#witcher drabble

Jaskier grumbles, shifting again. “Are they gone yet, Geralt? My arms are killing me.”

“No,” Geralt grumbles. “They’re still searching the market.”

“Should we try finding another exit?”

“Do you want to wade in monster infested sewage?”

“Oh Melitele, there’s monsters in there?” Jaskier gasped, climbing up a couple of rungs suddenly. It put his head near Geralt’s calves. His dirty pants frankly didn’t smell any better than the rest of the sewer, but at least the supposed monster infesting them was a known quantity.

“Don’t stick your ankles in the water and you’ll be fine,” Geralt points out, unimpressed. He shifts his feet so that he doesn’t accidentally step on Jaskier’s fingers. They fall into an unhappy silence, suspended between the sewage and the angry people in the market above.

Jaskier is silent for a long moment, then he asks in a muffled voice, “Geralt? Why are people so awful?”

Geralt goes still, cocking his head to the side as he takes that in. He falls into a long silence, which grows heavier and heavier with each passing moment. When he answers, his voice is quiet.

“They’re just scared. I’m different. It’s not their fault.”

Below him, Jaskier gapes, then puffs angrily. “That’s crap and you know it!” he hisses quietly. “You’re the best man I’ve ever met, and if they can’t see that they’re bloody blind.” His fingers tremble on the ladder, his muscles screaming as he demands they continue to hold him in this unaccustomed position.

“Lot of blind people, then.” Geralt notes mildly, then ducks down away from the lid at the top of the ladder, gesturing for Jaskier to be quiet. Overhead there is a boiling murmur of voices, shuffling footsteps. After a while, they move off.

“Well, that bloody jeweler better get ready for fame. Yorik the Pig-Fucker has a nice ring to it,” Jaskier seethes quietly into the yawning silence left in the wake of the people moving away. “And I’m going to write a hell of a ballad about how you took care of his troll problem, too. Geralt’s jaw tightens, and his hot golden eyes rake over Jaskier below him in the darkness.

“I talked the troll into finding new territory, Jaskier. There’s nothing epic about that.”

“Tell that to my new ballad,” Jaskier mutters grumpily, shifting his legs to try to ease their stiffness. Geralt glares down at him, but the glare slowly softens.

“Why?” he asks, examining the bard as best he can from where he’s standing.

“Why what?” 

“The songs? The...” he grimaces in distaste. “Following me?”

Jaskier looks back up at him thoughtfully. He’s asked this before, but every now and then, it comes up again, as if he can’t wrap his head around the idea that Jaskier likes him. Jaskier licks his lips, taking an uncharacteristically long moment before replying.

“People go out of their way to tell you that you’re not enough. That you’re bad, or scary, or stupid. None of that is true. I sing because I never want you to feel like you’re not good enough.” 

Above him, Geralt sinks into silence, his throat closing. Jaskier’s words made him feel sore inside, uncomfortable. The human didn’t seem to understand exactly what he was, even after years of traveling with him. Even after sharing his bed. Hard to identify emotions boil inside of him, and he shifts uneasily.

Jaskier watches him from below, his own heart sinking. Geralt was the least easy person to say kind things to that he’d ever met, and it bothered him deeply. Someday, though. Someday, his Witcher would finally hear him without flinching.

At the top of the ladder, Geralt listens as the voices finally begin to disperse. He glances down at Jaskier, who is shivering miserably beneath him. His own muscles are sore from holding the same position for hours, he can only imagine what kind of pain his bard is in. Nevertheless, he waits until the sounds of the market have dispersed entirely and the scent of night wafts down from the access point before he moves again. Beneath him, Jaskier gives an exhausted whimper as Geralt shifts and climbs up a few rungs to peek out from below the cover.

The rush of relatively fresh air is a relief to his desperately sensitive nose. It might still stink of urine and horse dung, but at least it hadn’t spent miles rolling atop a river of sewage. Gulping in the fresh air, he surveys the street. Finally, it’s empty. Quickly as his sore muscles will allow, he scrambles out of the sewer, then reaches back down to help Jaskier. The bard swallows another whimper as he begins to climb, his stiff muscles screaming.

“Geralt! Put me down!” Jaskier complains as Geralt begins to jog up the street, staying close to the shadows where he can.

As soon as Jaskier is in reach, Geralt leans down and fists the back of Jaskier’s doublet, dragging both him and his lute carefully out of the sewer. He deposits them on the cobbles and helps Jaskier stagger upright. The hours of standing suspended have taken a toll on his human companion, who winces as he flexes his legs and looks around the empty street.

“Back to Roach?”

“Hmm.” Geralt agrees. He watches the bard stagger a few steps, sighs, and heaves him over his shoulder in one easy movement.

“Be quiet. We need to get out of here. You can barely move,” Geralt grumbles, picking up his pace. Thankfully, at this time of night the city is far less crowded, and he is able to make his way to the outskirts with relatively little interference, bard slung over his shoulder like a sack of flour. Jaskier bubbles and puffs with irritation, but much to Geralt’s relief, remains relatively quiet until he sets him down some time later. Jaskier staggers, but by now at least a modicum of feeling has returned to his legs, and he rights himself quickly.

He goes to the Witcher, grabbing his arm gently. Geralt turns to face him, expression unreadable in the darkness of the alleyway near the inn. Jaskier regards him seriously, then reaches up and gently tucks some of Geralt’s hair away from his face.

“You are special to me. You know that?” He asks, fingers lingering softly on Geralt’s dirty cheek. Geralt regards him in the darkness, his golden eyes catching the little moonlight and glowing with it. His face remains stony, but Jaskier can see the little muscles in his face, especially at the corners of his eyes soften into a vulnerable look of confusion. Jaskier can see it because he’s known Geralt for so many years. Stepping closer, Jaskier cups his cheek, pressing his chest lightly against the Witcher’s armored body. He smells awful, they both do, but at least in the fresh air it’s bearable.

There was a slight blur to everything as I came to, groaning when I felt Geralt’s spot in the bed was cold. I sat up, pushing the covers off. If Geralt wasn’t in bed, then there was only one other place he would be. Tiptoeing down the hall, I smiled as I leaned against the doorframe. Geralt was sitting in the rocker he had built, Ailana snuggled on his chest, snoring softly. I walked towards them, moving to take Ailana when Geralt’s grip on her tightened, causing my smile to grow even more. He’s always been protective, but when I told him that I was pregnant, he became even more protective. And then when Ailana was born, he was just as protective of her. I leaned down, running my fingers through Geralt’s hair, kissing the corner of his mouth as I whispered.

“It’s just me love.”

Geralt’s hold on Ailana loosened just enough for me to be able to pick her up, holding her to my chest as she stirred. Moving towards her crib, I was just about to put her down when she started to scream, tears streaming down her face. I jumped when Geralt jumped up, looking around the room, a small dagger in his hands.

“Geralt, love, it’s okay. Ailana is okay. She just woke up, that’s all.”

Geralt lowered his dagger, walking towards us. He leaned down, giving me a soft kiss as he picked Ailana up, causing me to laugh.

“You spoil her.”

Geralt smiled as Ailana calmed, snuggling into his chest, a content sigh leaving her.

“I know.”

“But it is cute.”

I yawned, causing Geralt to look over at me, wrapping his free arm around me, pulling me to his side.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

I made grabby hands towards him, causing him to laugh as he carefully placed Ailana in my arms, picking me up once she was settled. We both snuggled into Geralt as he carried us down the hall, laying us on the bed before he crawled in beside us, wrapping his arm around my waist, Ailana laying between us.

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

I had just put Ailana down for a nap when Geralt came in, his chest heaving as he scowled.

“Geralt?”

I walked towards him, placing my hands on his chest once I was close enough, looking up at him.

“What happened? Is everything okay?”

He huffed, causing me to shake my head.

“Not today mister. Now tell me what’s wrong or you can sleep with Roach tonight.”

Geralt grinned slightly, sparing me a quick glance before he looked back at the wall.

“My mother.”

I made a face, tilting my head to the side as I reached up, placing my hand on his cheek, gently forcing him to look at me.

“What about her? Did something happen?”

I huffed slightly, whispering.

“Is she dead?”

Geralt grinned then, shaking his head as he grabbed me by the waist, picking me up. I wrapped my legs around him as he walked towards the couch (idk what that would be called in the witch universe or if they’d even have that) sitting down, causing me to sit on his lap.

“No, she’s not dead.

I nodded, sighing as I ran my fingers through his hair.

“Then what is it? Clearly something happened, you’re upset.”

“I saw her today. She sought me out. She told me that she’s been looking for me, for us.”

“Us? Why?”

“She heard that we were married, that you were pregnant. She told me she was sorry for what she did, and that she wanted a second chance.”

“A second chance?”

“She wants to meet you. And Ailana.”

“Do you want her to come here? Not a lot of people know we live here in our little corner of the world.”

“I know.”

I smiled softly, placing my hands on his cheeks, leaning down so he would look at me. 

“What do you want love?”

He looked up at me, sighing harshly.

“To keep you and Ailana safe.”

“And you’ve done that. But she is your mother. No matter your differences, a part of you, even if it’s miniscule, still cares for her. If you don’t want her to meet Ailana, then she won’t. If you want her to meet us, then okay, we’ll meet her somewhere public. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

“You’re too good for me.”

I leaned forward, resting my forehead on his.

“You deserve it.”

“I don’t.”

I huffed, shaking my head.

“Okay, we are so not going to start the yes you do no I don’t fight cause we both know in the end I’ll win.”

I grinned, placing a kiss against his lips.

“I always win.”

He leaned up, kissing me harder as he ran his hands over the top of my thighs, squeezing my hips.

“Or maybe I always let you win.”

I scoffed, leaning back.

“You let me win? Sure, let’s go with that.”

Geralt laughed, shaking his head.

“I love you.”

“I smiled, running my fingers through his hair as I leaned down, kissing him.

“Not as much as I love you.”

🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺🐺

Permanent Loves:

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The Witcher Loves:

@socie

@tanelle83​

@llama2264​

@struckmatches​