#thewitcherbingo

“If you ever got the chance to go back and re-do something - anything, at any point in your life, what would it be?”

Ever since you’d walked out of the musky tent belonging to the town oracle, now many hours behind you, that old haggard woman who actually meant no harm to anyone despite what the alderman said, your mind had been turning over all of the possibilities and what-could-have-been had you made a single decision differently at any point in your life.

The silence you left in the wake of your sudden question was thick and murky, your companions hesitantly testing the waters and slowly heading down the same path you had trodden several hours before.

Jaskier, sat by your side against a fallen tree trunk, leaning into you, placing his head on your shoulder. You smiled softly as he took one of your hands and started playing with your fingers. You knew where his path was taking him.

Geralt was a more difficult read, however. You were not entirely sure he had heard you, despite his enhanced witchery hearing as his expression had not changed. He remained as stoic as ever; perhaps he did not like to entertain such possibilities of the unknown having lived for so long already.

“Ciri should be here by now,” is all Geralt says, barely audible, voice practically carried away by the breeze, blanketed by the rustle of leaves.

“Ciri will be fine, she probably had to take a different route across the river,” you offer, knowing where Geralt’s worry stems from. Having a child in your party does weird things to you, like activating this strange need to protect her at all costs. A parental instinct you didn’t know you had in you until now.

You strain your senses for any sign of the girl with the flaxen hair but come up short. Jaskier’s weight against you keeps you from getting up and pacing in circles; he is the anchor to your ship being tossed about on a stormy sea, mooring you in the present, where you should be, without letting you stray too far in any other direction. You sigh and relax into him as you wait.

Jaskier presses a kiss to your shoulder and sits up as you soon hear the beat of hooves through the trees.

All of a sudden, she is with you. Ciri arrives at the camp on her horse, barely able to hold onto the reins. Her horse, you note, won’t stay still, even as its rider tries to dismount.

“Geralt, they’re coming,” she says, a whisper that is loud throughout the clearing, holding such a weight that even the hush-hush of the leaves is silenced.

Geralt does not have time to reply before she falls off her horse, her foot becoming stuck in the stirrup. You rush to help her, Geralt too, abandoning Jaskier at the log. He lifts her body as you free her foot and then sets her down where he had previously been sitting.

Jaskier appears at your side with the bag you keep a stash of bandages in, along with all sorts of herbs and ingredients for healing potions and poultices. You mutter thanks, your mind now on your patient, and dig in for a length of fabric.

Upon closer inspection she has a wound on her side - it looks like she had a narrow escape from an arrow, a crossbow bolt by the width and depth of it, her flesh too clean-cut for a run -of-the-mill military arrow. The cut is superficial but judging the state of her, she has lost a lot of blood. If the stain on her breeches is anything to go by, it’s not that fresh either.

“Ciri,” you call to her as her eyelids flutter, “try to stay awake for me please.”

Ciri groans and you apply more pressure to her wound but she does as you ask.

“What did you mean, ‘they are coming?’ Who is coming?”

You snatch a bottle of alcohol from Jaskier’s hand and pour a good dose of it on her wound. (He goes for an affronted look but the injured girl before him is much more concerning than stolen drink.)

Ciri does not cry out, clenches her jaw. “Nilfgaard.”

It is all she needs to say before Geralt is putting out the fire, collecting bags and belongings and tying them to horses. You hear him mutter something about the whereabouts of the vampire and the archer, but you know the other members of your hansa know what they are doing. It is your group that needs to pick up the pace.

“Geralt, she will have to ride with you. She cannot ride alone, not in this state.” You tie off the fresh bandage you’d wrapped around her. She now had more colour in her cheeks than before and you were confident she would pull through. She just needed some adult supervision for the ride ahead.

“Fine,” Geralt says, already gathering Kelpie’s reins and tying them to Roach’s.

He helps Ciri onto his mare and you go to your own horse, already being led by Jaskier. A quick glance tells you all your bags are secure on the saddle and another feeling is added to this whirlwind of an evening. You cannot immediately identify it.

The sight of him steadies you and soon enough you are following Geralt and Ciri away from what had promised to be a restful night.

The wind is in your hair, whistling in your ears and Jaskier’s arms are secure around your middle. You feel him lean forward slightly, enough to speak into your ear so his words do not get stolen, whisked away and left behind you.

Geralt wasn’t actually paying attention to the motorcycles as they parked outside the shopping centre. It wasn’t until Cirilla pulled his arm and pointed to them. He looked on in vague interest, scanning them as they all got off their bikes one at a time. Like dominos.

Until his eyes landed on the last person. There was nothing inherently special about the person, except for how out of place they looked. Everyone else was laughing and hanging off each other but that person – that man, Geralt discovered when he removed his helmet – was quiet and looked detached from the group.

Geralt was actually surprised to find that he was the leader, as all the men and women waited until he had passed before following him into the store. Not to mention, that while everyone else had embellishments and spots of colour on their bikes and clothes, the man’s clothes were a plain maroon leather and an equally plain black bike.

Right as he passed Geralt, their eyes met. It wasn’t anything special, but Geralt still felt a tingle down his spine at being noticed.

They held each other’s gaze until the man was gone into the store.

“Do you think they’re bad news?” Ciri asked, snapping Geralt out of what ever daze he had been in.

“Probably not, just because they look bad doesn’t mean that they are,” Geralt answered, placing the rest of their shopping bags into the car.

“I hope that they are, then something will finally happen in this town,” she muttered stepping away from where she was leaning against the trunk. “Maybe they’ll even let me join them. Do you think I’ll look good in a leather jacket?”

“Over my dead, burnt body, Ciri,” Geralt shut that idea down. He knew that once she got too excited about it, he’ll end up spending half his pay check on leather jackets and the other half on a motorcycle. And he was already busy paying for the fencing lessons she took interest in a few months prior.

“No need to take it that far,” she huffed.

Geralt rolled his eyes, “just get into the car.”

Ciri pouted but did as she was told. Her being gone gave Geralt a few minutes to process what had happened earlier. Geralt never stared, not if he didn’t have to, but there was something about that man.

With an understanding nod, he got right to it, finger pressing at your tight hole as he began to work you open for the first plug of the day. The smallest butt plug would be worn as you prepared for the big night, the second plug would be worn in the car on the way over and through the red carpet and reception, and the last would go in at the ball, to be worn as the night wrapped up and led you home.

“And so it begins,” you half-laughed, half-moaned as soon as the plug was secure. 

Henry grinned, eyes alight with cockiness. “And how do you feel about that?” 

Your hand smoothed down his chest to his crotch, fingers feeling the outline of his thick cock. “Hmm… I think I need to thank you in advance for everything you’re gonna do to me tonight.” 

“I can think of a couple of ways you can… express your gratitude,” he winked, watching with joy as you sank to your knees and licked your lips. 

Soon after you sucked the soul out of Henry’s dick, the hair and makeup team and stylists arrived to help the two of you get ready. Being doted on like a celebrity wasn’t something you were used to, but getting made up and pampered was an extravagant distraction from the nerves of making your first official public appearance as a couple.

A couple of hours passed as you went through the special treatment and when you finally saw yourself in the mirror, you about died. Growing up, beauty was only afforded to skinny people, people who looked nothing like you. It had been an insecurity for as long as you remembered, but looking at your reflection, all you saw was beauty. The makeup and dress complemented you perfectly, and for the first time in a very long time you got to enjoy the perks of getting dolled up and putting your best foot forward. 

The stylists began to pack up and let you know that Henry was done and waiting for you downstairs. Giddy to see his reaction to your look, you made your way out and carefully descended the stairs. Half way down the staircase, you saw him, jaw literally dropped open as his bright eyes took you in. He laughed, sweet and honest, gleaming with pride and love, the awe on his face making you fight back tears. 

“Okay, okay, stop looking at me like that. You’re gonna make me cry and ruin it,” you warned as you got to the bottom of the stairs and walked over to him. 

Everyone laughed and he cleared his throat, stepping up to you with a tamed smile. “Remember the deal?”

Your smokey dark eyes narrowed up at him, only breaking contact when your makeup artists and stylists called to let you know they had finished cleaning up and were leaving. As soon as they were out of the room you punched him lightly in the chest, knocking laughter out of the two of you. 

“Is that dress easy to bend in?”  

You nodded. Though the dress clung to your body, it was easy to move in, easy to take off; that was part of the reason you ended up choosing this dress for tonight. 

“Good. Shall we?” He watched with a filthy grin as you obliged. “Are you ready for the next one, love?” 

Thick fingers slid the dress up over your hips, hooked into your underwear and massaged the globes of your ass. A nod was all you could give him in response when his thumbs spread your cheeks to fully expose the heart shaped plug nestled there. 

Heart pounding in your chest and pussy, you did your best to remain still as his fingers plucked at the base of the plug, gently working your tight hole with it. The smallest plug popped free and you let out a hungry groan, needy for more.

“Patience, love. It’s right here. Just need to get you ready for it,” he cooed, lube-covered fingers gently pressing into your hole. The pressure lured a moan as he worked you open and began to press the medium sized plug into your ass. The moment the second plug slipped in, Henry pulled you up and spun you around, mouth claiming your neck in a frenzy. 

“Fuck, Hen,” you whined, hips grinding against his fingers as one of his hands shoved your dress to keep it up and the other rubbed through your wet folds. Your pussy throbbed and your fingers were lost in the luscious curls atop his head, his teeth biting sharply down on your pulse point. A loud squeal burst from your lips and he laughed deeply, moving his face out of your neck enough for you to see the mischief in his eyes. 

“Neck was safer than ruining your lipstick, right?”

All you could do was roll your eyes as he grinned and left you to right yourself again. When you were ready the two of you gathered your things and left for the limo waiting just outside. The ride was tense, anticipation of the red carpet and the rest of the night to come made you slightly uneasy, knee bouncing where you sat at Henry’s side.  

“Nervous?” Henry’s voice startled you a bit as it broke the silence.

Being in the public eye and the center of attention wasn’t your favorite, especially at your weight. Scrutiny and harsh words were already hurled your way at the mere speculation that Henry could be linked to you romantically, but you knew that he had your back. That he loved you just the way you were and would never stop defending you. 

“A bit,” you answered honestly, releasing a breath before smirking his way. “Though, I am pretty excited to get back home.”

Henry dropped your hand and found your thigh, giving it a squeeze as he winked. “We’ve still got one more to go, remember,” he reminded you, holding up your clutch where the third and largest plug lay waiting. 

“How could I forget?”

-----

As you stepped out of the car, flashing lights blinded you and left you disoriented and clinging to Henry’s side. His assistant, Brendan, and a flock of event staff soon surrounded the two of you, leading you onto a red carpet. 

Henry held you close, big hands reassuring you as he leaned in and said, “You can stay with me the whole time if you’d like, or you can wait with Brendan during the interviews. I’m happy with whatever you decide.”

You shot him a nod and painted on your prettiest smile as you walked the carpet to the first photo stop. Brendan and the staff continued and waited as you and Henry posed as a couple for the first time in public. Photographers called out for you both, shouting both direction and questions about your relationship. The noise and flashing lights immediately jump-started your anxiety and, as if he knew what you were thinking, your boyfriend took a deep breath and wrapped his arm around your waist, turning you to him. 

A gentle smile helped you to relax and the world disappeared when he leaned down and kissed you, tame enough not to ruin your lipstick but firm enough to offer you love and comfort as you shared your love with the world. 

Beaming up at him, your hand pushed through his curls and you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before coming back to earth. Everything was a blur and the only thing you could focus on was Henry. Your hand remained clasped tightly, safely, within his large one as he led down the carpet to the first interview. 

When Brendan ushered him forward, you dropped his hand and took a step back, letting him do his interview as you watched from the sidelines with the team. You stood and watched as he spoke with charm and ease, politely thanking everyone before coming back to you. 

At the next photo stop and interview he let you go when your grip on his hand loosened, but at the last interview his grip grew tighter, and you realized he wasn’t going to let you sit this one out. 

The reporter smiled widely as he approached, and her eyes immediately flew to you, signaling something to the videographer as you arrived at their station. 

“Hello, sir. Henry you look wonderful,” she greeted, letting him thank her before continuing. “And who might this lovely woman be?”

Clearing your throat, you leaned in and she moved her mic from Henry’s face to yours. “I’m Y/n L/n, Henry’s girlfriend.”

Henry looked down at you affectionately, watching as your nervous smile grew into an excited one. It was out. It was official. Not that you and Henry hadn’t been committed to one another already, but now it was a public affair. Excitement, relief, and a small rush of adrenaline kicked through your system, the heat of Hen’s hand against yours telling you that he felt the same. 

All of your worst case scenarios flashed through your mind, but to your surprise, the reporter in front of didn’t sling a backhanded compliment at you. Instead, she smiled a genuine smile and congratulated Henry on landing a woman as beautiful as you. Brain scrambling to catch up, you only caught on in the middle of his sentence.

“-she’s fantastic, and loyal, and truly sincere. I’m a very lucky man to have her at my side,” he gushed, smiling down at you as you hid your gummy smile behind your hand. 

“And there you have it, Superman is officially off the market. Have a gorgeous night, lovebirds,” she said cheerfully, shaking yours and Henry’s hand as her time ended. 

As Brendan and the event staff surrounded and led you to the entrance of the building, you and Henry deflated and shared laughter, leaning into one another, happy that the public display was all over. Brendan handed you both your masquerade masks and you helped each other put them on, the leather covering his face leaving you melting as he delicately secured your own diamond mask to your face.

Once directed to the main ballroom, you spent the next hour mingling with celebs and socialites, drinking expensive champagne and wine, and snacking on hors d’oeuvres. You were dragged to the dance floor for a couple of songs before Henry secretly led you away, up a red velvet staircase to a private balcony that overlooked the entire ballroom. 

“Wow,” you gasped, looking over the railing at the crowd below. 

His chest met your back, lips dropping to your shoulder as he said, “It’s time.”

Sucking in a breath, you turned and handed him your clutch, watching in anticipation as he retrieved the final plug and a sample packet of lube. He gently turned you toward the railing, heavy hand pushing your shoulders forward until you were leaning over, elbows on the rail and ass on display for him. 

Smoothing your dress up and underwear down, thick hands splayed your cheeks. A single fingertip swirled around the base of the plug, working the outer muscle before finally wiggling the plug free. 

Even with the sound of the ball you could still hear his groan of approval as your empty asshole fluttered around nothing, a slight gape inviting him in. His tongue sent a zap of shock and arousal through you when it met your puckered hole. Face pressing into your ass, Henry’s mouth worshiped your hole, fucked in and out and left you writhing in pleasure. 

As the room below you swirled in lively bliss, Henry doted on your ass and slid the final plug into you, watching in awe at the way you gave in to the stretch and burn. 

“Jesus Christ, Henry, I don’t know how long I can keep going. I-I might come,” you panted as his mouth worked up your spine to your ear. 

“No you won’t. You’re too perfect.” His words caught you off guard and his eyes tenderly caressed your face. “I’m glad you’re here, sweetheart. I’m so thankful you’ve let me love you.”

You were engulfed in his arms a moment later, and you lean into him that much harder, small hands grabbing at his big back. A moment passed and he pulled back just enough to catch your lips on his, lick his way into your mouth and share the moment with you. Before you could get too carried away, his lips broke away and left you practically begging for more. 

He watched in amusement as you let out a needy whine, your eyes going wide at something behind him. Curiously, he turned and found the offending object, a portrait of Jesus on the Cross painted on the wall above the private booth you’d just defiled. 

“Oh my God, I’m going to hell,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. 

Henry laughed darkly, voice deep enough to leave butterflies in your stomach. “Let’s go to hell, then. Together.” 

On the brink of a horny death, you let out a guttural groan of arousal and let him whisk you down to the ballroom again. Moving in his arms, he led you around the dance floor in a passionate rhythm, the tension finally pushing him to say his goodbyes and take you back home.

In the back of the limo, you couldn’t keep yourselves apart. Barely able to breathe, the two of you refused to slow down, just kissing and grinding together that much deeper. Heat grew between you, left you hot and had Henry already getting sweaty. By the time you stumbled out of the car back at his house, your hair and makeup were a mess. 

In record time, you were slung over his shoulder and marched into the house, only set down when you were half way into the large living room. Big hands wrapped around your wrists, stopping your efforts to rid him of his suit before you could even try. 

“Go to the room and get comfortable, I’ll be right in.”

Rushing to the bedroom, you took a minute to take off the smudged makeup and let your hair down before sitting at the edge of the bed. Sure enough, a minute later Henry appeared, already down to his pants and boxers. Finally stripping out of both, his thick cock sprung free, and he spit down on his shaft before shooting you a dirty grin. Stroking his cock as he approached, you crawled backward up his bed, stopping in the middle while he stood at the foot, eyes tenderly dragging along your naked body. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/n,” he sighed earnestly. 

A blush warmed your cheeks as he climbed up and walked on his knees, pushing your legs open to fit himself between your thick thighs. Heat cloaked you as he dropped his chest against yours and kissed the breath out of you, hips grinding his hard dick through your wet lips. 

“Want me to fuck this wet pussy before we get to that glorious ass?”

His deep, throaty voice made you shiver and moan, head shaking side to side. “Fuck my ass, Daddy. Wanna feel you there.”  

Henry groaned and kissed you roughly, tongue dominating yours as he made his way down your body, stopping to pay attention to each russet hued nipple before landing between your shapely thighs. He didn’t spend long laving at your wet pussy, but by the time his talented mouth left your body you were on the edge of an orgasm. 

When you were instructed to turn over, you settled on all fours, gently shaking your ass up at Henry. He rewarded you with a few slaps, strong hands massaging the warm flesh before he found the base of the plug and worked it free. 

Before you could beg for him, his fat tip was pressed against your hole, the lubed skin slowly pushing at your entrance. 

“Tell me you want me.”

A needy moan fell from your lips at the rasp of his voice, and instead of giving him a proper answer, you pressed your hips back against his, swallowing his thick tip with your tight hole. Henry grunted and gripped your hips, too enamored by the way you felt to reprimand you. All he could do was move, pull you back as he pushed forward, and hiss as your body sucked him in to the hilt in one long, wet stroke. 

“Oh fuck!” Your body writhed and shook as his hips met your ass, the pleasure and build up finally consuming you in ecstasy. 

Words of encouragement and slaps to your ass filled the air as you worked yourself on his dick, pussy fluttering around nothing and asshole clamping down on him as you cried out like a whore, ass filled with his cock and your dark hair tangled in his hands. 

“That’s it, sweetheart.” 

He bucked hard against you, sturdy thighs clapping loudly against the back of yours with each thrust. Your body swayed with his movements and his teeth landed on your shoulder as he fucked you raw and nasty, fingers toying with your clit to make sure you kept on cumming the rest of the night through.

“How close are we?” Jaskier whispered from behind you as you peeked past the corner of a building. You waved him off, trying to focus on the guards that stood just under ten feet away — this was the only street that could take you to the bandit’s secret meeting place. Getting questioned from the guards was yet another obstacle you needed to pass; if they stopped you and Jaskier for more than five minutes, there wouldn’t be enough time to get the coin to Geralt.

“Fuck.” You leaned against the stone wall and racked your brain for a way to get around them. 

This wasn’t your forte. Typically, you helped Geralt with directions and connections. You knew where to find the best contracts, who offered the most money. It was a benefit of having a father as an esteemed hunter among the kingdoms. But being a well-known hunter’s kid wouldn’t get you past the Novigrad guards — since you were in a city, plenty of people had a relatively known family name. The guards would laugh in your face and ask what your business was being out that late. Either way, sneaking past them was not an option.

If only Geralt hadn’t put you and Jaskier, of all people, in this situation. He was trying to make a deal with a group of bandits to let a famous blacksmith free — the bandits, of course, wouldn’t let up that easy. They captured the blacksmith for a ransom and expected Geralt to find a way to get it for them. Of course, Geralt didn’t trust the bandits to keep the blacksmith alive, so he sent you and Jaskier to go find the coin in time for the setup.

You weren’t sure why Geralt didn’t just beat up the bandits and free the blacksmith. Maybe he was waiting until he knew the blacksmith was safe. Either way, you needed to figure out the task at hand before worrying about the finer details.

You and Jaskier had to find the coin by midnight, and it wasn’t easy. Luckily, Jaskier had about half of the ransom from his performances (which took a good amount of time to convince him to give up), and the rest you managed to scrounge up from a few family friends and from begging on the street.

After a whole day of dealing with Jaskier’s constant blabber, you were sure he would understand the severity of the rendez-vous situation. Of course, the bard was much worse at sneaking around than you were (though he seemed to brag about his abilities on more than one occasion). But you thought maybe, just maybe, he would try to be a little quieter in the dead of night. Obviously, you were wrong.

“Geralt better thank me for this later. It took me three weeks to get that coin, and that was almost all from luck. It’ll probably take me twice as much to make it back.”

At this point, his complaints wouldn’t stop unless you spoke up. You leaned towards him with the lowest whisper you could muster, “Jaskier, you’re saving a man’s life. The ballad you’re bound to create will make up for that coin in no time.”

Jaskier halted himself, then smiled. He ignored your hushed voiced, and instead of matching it, he doubled it. “You think so?”

Instead of responding, you shifted your head slightly. The sound of the guard’s voices was now suspiciously gone. “Fuck.” You leaned past the edge of the building to get a better look.

‘Fuck’ was right. The guards were walking slowly, with their torches pointed outwards, towards the building you were hiding behind. You tried to think of other reasons for their sudden interest. Maybe their shift just ended? They were bound to move around the city and trade places with other guards, so maybe that’s why they were walking in your direction. But the smarter part of you knew that was not why at all.

“What?” Jaskier tried to look past your shoulder, immediately pushing himself back when he saw the guards. “Oh, fuck. What are we gonna do? Is there another way?”

There was, but you had to think fast. What other buildings were down this street? An herbalist’s shop, a meeting place for local bards, a pub—

“The Golden Sturgeon,” you whispered, hardly hearing yourself over Jaskier’s incessant mumbling. Well, mumbling was an overstatement — the guards from three streets could probably hear him.

You tried to shush the bard to tell him your sad excuse of a plan, but he was ignoring your pleading hand gestures. Jaskier’s panic mode was setting in; he looked like a complete loon, and in any other circumstance you would’ve laughed.

“I’m terrible under pressure! If they ask me a question I’ll probably blow it. No, I’ll definitely blow it—“

The guards were about to walk right up to you. You did the only thing you could think of: you grabbed the bard by his doublet and nearly shoved him on top of you.

“Shut up and follow my lead.” You practically growled through your gritted teeth, then smashed his lips to yours. It wasn’t a pleasant kiss — at first. Your teeth clanked together, and you felt Jaskier gasp from surprise. But as soon as the two of you realized what was happening, and felt each other’s bodies loosen, the kiss was actually…nice? You never expected yourself to enjoy a kiss with the annoyingly charismatic Jaskier, but, here you were. Your hands loosened their grip on his doublet and slowly lifted to his face—

“What’s going on here?”

You gently pushed your face from the bard’s but kept a hand to his cheek. The guards held their torches out towards you, and soon their angry faces turned to amused ones. You smiled — they actually believed it.

“Sorry, sir.” You made your voice higher than usual and slurred the words together. “We were just on the way to…” You faked a drunken giggle, “The Golden Sturgeon.”

“At this time of night?” One guard looked you up and down — if you weren’t afraid to blow your cover, you would have shuttered.

Luckily, Jaskier seemed to catch on. He wobbled on his feet a bit, fully committing to the part of the drunken bard. “Keep your eyes up here, sir.” He laughed just enough to make it a playful threat, but the look behind his eyes told you otherwise.

Still, the guards made no move to question you. Instead, another one scoffed. “Enjoy your night.” And like that, the guards walked off.

You released a huge breath once you knew they were gone. That was probably the tensest thing you had ever been apart of — and traveling with Jaskier and Geralt was full of a lot of tense moments.

Your relief was short-lived, as you noticed Jaskier looking at you with a certain glint in his eye.

“What?” You scrunched your nose up and felt the overwhelming presence of your own hand on his face.

Jaskier only smirked. “Maybe we should...try that again. You know, in case they come back."

“Fuck off.” You pushed the bard away with a blush. “Now, let’s go find Geralt.”

You knew that voice too well, you were sure it was him. So, you run to the door without letting your weapon go. When you opened it, the sight to meet your eyes felt like a memory. It was Jaskier, just as handsome and troublesome as ever, a little older, but so were you, and he was aging as well as wine. Behind him, there was a man, bigger than him. He had white hair, but you couldn’t see him well enough due to the darkness and the heavy rain.

“I owe you an explanation, but I need you to sew him up as soon as possible.”

“Go to that room and lay him in bed.” You nodded towards the interior of the house as he was walking in with the unknown man leaning on his shoulder. “And you owe me more than one explanation.”

The bard did as instructed. You quickly gathered your bone needle, the thread and a mysterious potion made by herbs.

“Make him drink this. It’ll ease the pain.”

The man drank it without hesitation, lying back on your bed. You guessed he was a witcher, and not a common one. You had recently heard of Jaskier after all those years- and yes, you had heard the infamous song about Geralt of Rivia too.

“What was it?” You asked while preparing your tools.

“It was big and ugly.” Jaskier answered. Not quite useful.

“Werewolf.” Said the witcher dryly. Then he fell asleep.

You were working in silence, stitching his neck and part of his arm. It was an ugly cut, deep and irregular. You had to clean it first, and you thanked Melitele, for the blood was so stuck to his skin it must had been torture had he been awake. You lost count of the stitches and lost track of time, surely past midnight.

You nodded towards the bard to go out of the room and closed the door behind you to let Geralt rest.

Jaskier nailed his clear, blue eyes upon yours. Neither of you moved. Both of you were thinking how to start a to talk. Should you start with a light-hearted conversation or spill all the venom you had been keeping in your heart for years? You hadn’t seen each other in over a lustrum. Maybe more. He opened his mouth, about to pronounce a word, but he bit his lip instead. A rare sight it was, regarding words came easy to him, he used them as he wanted.

“We can sit by the fire.” You simply said.

Once you were on the chairs in front of the fireplace you looked at him. He didn’t look back. The first change you noticed was his shoulders. They were broader than before. Then his jaw, and his eyes, they were sharper. You wondered if he had seen the same things you did when you entered the real world- right after he left.

“So, you didn’t marry the alderman’s son.” Jaskier said, more an affirmation to himself than to you. His tone, you couldn’t decipher, but it was dark and deep.

“You could at least look at my face when you are talking to me.”

“I never liked when you got angry at me.” He sighed. “And I bet you are making that face right now.”

“We are not children anymore, Jaskier.” You tried to suppress the smirk that was creeping to your lips, remembering all those times you frowned at something Jaskier had done. “You are a man and I am a woman. We can talk, I’m not going to scold you. Or punch you. I wanted to the first few years I hadn’t a single piece of news about your existence…” You added the last part with a bitter tinge. “But the anger faded away.”

“I thought you wouldn’t want to talk to me.” He looked at your eyes, his lit with hope. You couldn’t resist the smile this time. Even if it was a sad one. How could you ever deny him of anything? That he acknowledged his fault made you felt understood. There was a knot in your stomach indicating you it was time to ask the question you’ve waited way too long for.  

“I want to know why you left so abruptly.”

He blinked. Silence. He gulped. Silence. Yet his pupils didn’t hide. He breathed deeply before answering.

“It was for the best.”

“Oh, was it?” He sounded almost like he was trying to convince himself of his decision instead of you. “Are you sure it was not an affair gone wrong? I’ve heard lately you had a good number of them.”. It was what you always thought had happened. He had to run away. What other reason could there be for his sudden disappearance?

“You heard of them?” He exclaimed surprised.

“I tried to look for you. When your best friend since childhood vanishes from your life, it’s the least you can do. But I failed. And when I finally found something… Well, so much time had passed, I thought you wouldn’t’ even care if you saw me ever again.”

“So it was you.” Jaskier murmured absorbed in his own thoughts.

“Who?”

“On the way to Cintra.” The bard gestured towards you. He looked more like himself now, without the mask of remorse, focused on something else. “I thought it was you, but you turned your head and… It was your hair, it was the way you walked. But I honestly thought fate would never let me meet you again.”

“If that’s so, tell me why you are here then.”

“Geralt was hurt and by chance-”

“I live in the middle of the woods.” You interrupted him. “By chance. I hardly believe that. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Fine. I heard you were here.” You nodded. “Heard your name, some anecdotes, that you sometimes healed people, put two and two together. I was about to come here a couple of times, but I didn’t have the courage. Then all of this happened, and I knew your house was closer than the town...”

“So you were going to go away.” You said absently. You were disappointed, it was obvious. And it was too late to feign this was a light-hearted conversation. You wouldn’t conceal your feelings.

“Do you think it was fate what has brought me here?” He wondered out loud.

“If that’s the case, then fate has a twisted way of making things happen. Why now?”

“Why not now?” He sounded hurt.

“Why not before?”

“I… I want to apologize. I’m sorry I broke our promise...” You can recall the distant moment. He said he’d bring you wherever he’d go, if he ever left home. And he left. Without you. He continued, as he saw you weren’t going to ask further. “I honestly thought you wouldn’t want to accompany me.”

“What made you think that?”

“As I said, I though you married the alderman’s son. I thought you were in love with him. He was constantly giving you flowers and gifts.” You huffed.

“So, you left me because you thought I was going to marry that pig of a man and then proceeded to avoid any contact with me? How could you have been such a fool? Or maybe I was the fool, thinking that we were friends…”

“You were my best friend. Since we were born.” Jaskier firmly confirmed.

“Did I hurt you? There must be other reason.” Your voice was now soft. Trying to seek understanding. “I know you, Jaskier, and you would have said goodbye. I know you and you never shut up, you would have said goodbye and a lengthy monologue stating your motifs and objectives.”

“I was a fool, that’s all.”

“That’s all…” He nodded. “Yes. Of course.”

“I’ll leave as soon as Geralt can walk. I’m sorry for all the inconveniences.”

“You’ll leave again. I hope you at least say goodbye.”

Jaskier crossed his arms and watched the fire crackling. Your heart felt heavy. The muted hope of a closure of your story with the bard was melting away. You felt your soul sank in your chest, lower and lower. There was a lump in your throat. There was no explanation, then. It was worse than rejection. Sadness, anger, you knew those emotions, and knew that time clamed them. But what can you do when there’s nothing but emptiness?

“Are you crying?”

“It’s not your business.” You sobbed, ignoring his worry. “And here I thought the moment we met, it’d be like the old times. Laughs and games, ale and songs. You said you were a fool, but I am the fool who hasn’t got over it after an eternity.”

“You don’t understand.”

“That’s what hurts. Not understanding what’s happening. I thought you were kidnapped, dead, lost. Then I learn you were just fine.” Your tears were now on your cheeks. Your voice high-pitched. “Then I blamed myself, I must have provoked it. I made you leave. But I’m wrong again. You just left and didn’t look back. Is that how it happened?”

“No! For fuck’s sake!” He stood up and kneeled before you. His face was painted with an ongoing conflict. He didn’t want you to be sad. He wanted you to keep going on without him. But why? “I thought you’d forget me soon after that!”

“How was I to forget my… you?”

“Does it really matter so much to you?” He took your hands in his.

“Yes.”

“I was in love with you.” Jaskier squeezed your hands but broke the contact of your eyes. “I just was heartbroken because I thought you had something with the alderman’s son. I can’t even remember his name. But you danced with him and he said he was going to court you and… I just wanted to leave and find something worth to live for because I had lost my reason to wake up every day.” He lowered his head and hid it on your lap.

“I didn’t know… I danced with you too on that fair.”

“Well, we always did.” His voice was muffled. “But you had never danced with anyone else before.”

“I stayed three years waiting for you. Then I learned a few things from a Melitele sanctuary, came back to no news from you, and left again. After a few villages and towns, I chose to settle here…”

“Why did you wait so long?” He rose his head slowly. His eyes were red too.

“What do you think?”

“I was a fool.”

“Indeed. But so was I.”

“I hope you would forgive me.” The bard said as he shook his head.

“What are we going to do now, Jaskier? Are we going to part ways?”

“I… I don’t know. I could… visit sometime… if you want me to, of course.” He babbled. “Did you really love me? And you still do?”

“My feelings haven’t changed. I still love you.” His gaze showed his amazement. And his adoration. “Have you heard me?”

“Are you serious?”

You stood up and made him go up with you. You grabbed his face by the sides and pulled him closer.

“Yes.” It was a mere whisper.

“Aren’t you resentful?”

“Are you?”

“No, but I-”

“Listen, Jaskier, I lived my life with you and without you. And my heart has known no greater joy than when you smile, or talk, or just are next to me.”

“Are you a poetess now?” He smiled, that sweet gesture that made you lose your reason every time.

“Don’t mock me. At least I’m clear about my feelings and my intentions. Now it’s your turn.”

“I love you.” The words spilt like a waterfall; he was thrilled to finally be able to speak them. “I have no doubts. The moment you opened the door, I couldn’t tame the butterflies in my stomach. I don’t care what happens in the future. We will figure it out. But I don’t want to lose you again.”

“You won’t. And I will track you down if you disappear again. I learnt a trick or two.” Jaskier moved his face closer to yours, his lips gracing yours.

“What is a love confession without a kiss?” His arms surrounded your waist.

“Do you think you deserve a kiss?”

“No, but I’m greedy enough to ask just in case I get it.”

You closed the distance. His kiss was soft, sweet, like the warm breeze in summer. You pressed your body against him. It was an indescribable feeling. His smell, his heat, his flavour, they dulled the world around you, and there was only Jaskier. You kissed him again.

“When will Geralt wake up?” He asked and you giggled.

“Not until morning.”

“Then we have time to catch up.”

…

“Was it fate?”

“What do you mean, Jaskier?”

“Us meeting again. Was it fate?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

“You were always so romantic…”