Chapter Text
- Two years later -
“Three,” Dandelion counted before their horse took them into the line of sight of the patrolling guards outside Oxenfurt. Both of them dismounted.
He frowned. “you said there would only be two.”
“There has always been two. That’s the standard procedure for Dijkstra. His tailing squad, I mean. A strong one for combat and an agile one for fast chases through the city. As for why there are three this time… it’s hard to say. Extra measures taken? The jitters brought by the tension of war? Or…” he exchanged a serious look with Geralt, “he was expecting you?”
“No one other than my fellow Wolf Witchers, Triss and you know I’m here.” he said firmly, “and I don’t believe any of you would sell me out.”
“And Rience.” Dandelion pointed out. “Though he’s not an ally of Dijkstra, I’m sure of that.”
“And Rience.” he agreed. “Wish we could have gotten to that bastard faster. How’re your wrists?”
“Fine.” Dandelion shrugged, hand moving to his lace sleeves to lower them, but Geralt was faster. He caught it before Dandelion succeeded in tugging it away, hoisting it up and inspecting the hideous scars under the pale moonlight. Dandelion grunted but did not comment.
“He almost ripped your hands off…” he murmured, fingertips skimming over the reddened scars, caressing the skin there, slowly and thoroughly.
“Seriously, Geralt, it’s the one-hundredth times you’ve been - ”
He leaned in and kissed that mumbling, ungrateful mouth. Noises were gone and the only thing he could hear was the fastened heartbeat of his lover, which satisfied him greatly and encouraged him to deepen the kiss until both of them were left breathless.
“Shit. Geralt. You can’t solve everything with a kiss, or a blowjob!” Dandelion whispered when they parted for air.
“Seemed like an effective way, in my experience,” he grinned, turning to face the city gate of Oxenfurt. “What do we need to do now?”
“Act on our plan.” Dandelion passed him a key. “the key to the back door. Remember -”
“Aye, slipped in after you make a mess in the tavern as a drunkard and being thrown to the street, singing ‘Song of the South’… I’d say your plan is as witty as ever.”
“No time for your glib remark,” said Dandelion sternly, “Dijkstra has eyes everywhere. Once I’m in, the three tails will be led away, and you wait… if everything goes well, I won’t be back before tomorrow night, during which I have to go to all those boring conferences to pass time, meet Dijkstra in the fresh, and answer all his ‘where's Geralt’ questions.”
“What if you don’t come back?” something suddenly hit him.
“I will.” Dandelion put an arm around his shoulder and squeezed, “there won’t be any danger. Oxenfurt is my city. Everyone here knows me.”
“But…” he hesitated, touching the scars on the bard’s wrist.
“If there’s someone who needs to be cautious, it’s you, Geralt.” Dandelion pressed their forehead together for a brief moment, and he could feel the warmth in his breath, “Everybody is trying to get to you, and get to Cir-”
He caught the bard’s lips with his own again, this time a little more desperate.
“Go back to me,” he whispered to the other man’s mouth, hands letting go after patting him on the back. “Go. Do what you need to do. And meet me at your house tomorrow night.”
Dandelion jumped forward and kissed him one last time, and turned firmly away, leading Pegasus in the direction of the city.
*
He had been to Dandelion’s house in Oxenfurt several times, even wintering here once or twice when the snow blocked the narrow route to Kaer Morhen. It was a two-story house with a lovely little garden, though the garden was almost deserted due to its master’s constant absence, or laziness, or both. It had a living room and a small kitchen on the first floor, two cozy bedrooms, a study and a balcony upstairs, and a basement for storing alcohol and food. Geralt knew the house had been gifted to Dandelion when he graduated and was hired as a professor so that he could move out of the dormitory.
Though he had never slipped in through the back door, he managed to get in without fuss. It hadn’t changed much since the last time he was here, parchments and cushions laying around, books piling up to the ceiling, dozens of vodka bottles at the corner, a few quill and ink bottles on the tea table, a few instruments Geralt couldn’t name hanging on the wall.
His eyes rested on the comfortable sofa facing the fireplace. How many hours had they spent on it in the snowy winter days, reading, chatting aimlessly, Dandelion humming tones lowly in his mouth, or simply staring into the crackling fire. They had some of the greatest romps on it too… and Geralt blushed in spite of himself.
He left the luggage and his cloak in the living room and went upstairs. The stairwell cracked happily under his weight, and his footsteps were absorbed by the thick crimson carpet.
All of the decorations and the smell of the room were so comfortable and familiar, but it wasn’t his home. His home would be here tomorrow, at night.
The bedroom to the right was smaller, and it had been his guest room before they finally gathered enough courage to confess their feelings to each other two years ago, which had taken them over a decade. Geralt shook his head at that. Eskel and Lambert would tease him forevermore for that if they had found out. Fortunately, they held the same affection for each other, and even after two years, he still couldn’t believe his luck.
It was hard to name what had changed since that day, except the obvious fact that making out and sex had been added to their relationship. Dandelion was still flirting with his audience when he performed, dropping his eyes on those beautiful girls out of habit, but that was as far as he went. Both of them stopped stepping into the brothel by tacit agreement, and Geralt would turn down those who approached him.
Though there was still something that needed to be said.
“And someone said he detested any kinds of monogamy.” Geralt blurted out one day in bed when they were both drunk, and regretted it immediately.
But Dandelion did not let the subject slip. He climbed up onto Geralt and pressed him down with his whole body, forcing him to concentrate on him. “Yep, I did say that, more than once. Let me assume that you know the reason?”
“Because…” Geralt suddenly panicked, but he was pushed to speak by the pair of determined blue eyes now nailing him to the bed, “because you shift interests swiftly. You get tired of people easily. And that’s why you keep leaving.”
“Yes, and no.” Dandelion lowered his head, catching both of his wrists, and let his golden curls brush over his face teasingly. “That’s the reason on the surface. Allow me to take one step further: why am I shifting interest swiftly and get tired of people easily?”
“…”
“Haha,” Dandelion chuckled lightly, “you've yet to know me fully, my love.” He dipped his head and stopped when his lips were a breath away from his, “because people are too similar in my eyes. I can see through them too easily, thus I lose interest quickly. How’s a rose different from another, except for the fact that they’re both beautiful and pleasant, attracting me? I appreciate the unique beauty of all the flowers, but they’re merely flowers, and I can always find another pretty flower. If I was bonded to one flower by some stupid monogamous oaths, that’s a loss to both the flower and me. Who would be willing to wear the same piece of clothes for the rest of their lives? But you, my darling, gorgeous, you’re far, far more than a flower or a beautiful doublet…”
Dandelion’s lips pressed to his and something inside him burst like a thousand colorful fireworks.
“You’re me.” Dandelion said to his lips, and Geralt couldn’t tell whose lips were trembling, or both. “Sometimes I get the illusion that we’re the same person, you know? When you’re not with me, a large part of me goes with you. When you hurt, I hurt; when you are happy, I am happy too. And it has been the case for more than a decade. I’ve never met anyone like you and I never will. I love you the way I love myself, and I was often called the most self-centered person on the whole Continent… How could I ever get tired of … myself? Get tired of you?”
Seizing his bard by the arms, with a smooth move, Geralt flipped him to the bed, switching their positions. When he flopped down on the other man and bit his lips brutally, he didn’t realize there was another heavy thing lifted from his stomach.
And now, he smiled every time he went back to this moment. Taking a few more steps, the bedroom to the left was Dandelion’s room. Closing the door behind him, Geralt took his armor down and folded them away on the bedside table. Instead of climbing into the bed, he sat on a cushioned floor mat with his legs crossed, closing his eyes and starting to meditate.
Meditation was the best way for Witchers to pass time, especially on days filled with chasing and waiting for their prey. He could sense behind his eyelid that daylight came and gone, during which he sat like a statue, not moving a muscle.
When he heard a low “bump” on the balcony, a smile crept its way to the corner of his lips, and he opened his eyes.
An elegant silhouette crawled into the room.
“And now I present you, the man who fooled the spymaster of Redania, the shining star of Oxenfurt, the Nightingale Prince, the great master of disguise, the silver tongue, Dande-”
“Stop talking nonsense and kiss me!” Geralt snapped, getting up from the floor, and his demand was obeyed. Dandelion laughed and leaped into his arms, rubbing their lips together, his hands already targetting Geralt’s loose pants.
“That desperate, huh?” Geralt groaned, trying to disentangle himself from the octopus in human form now winding around him. “Shouldn’t we talk about what happened…”
“You told me to kiss you first!”
A gust of ghostly cold wind was brought into the room, briny and wet from the sea. Something hitched inside Geralt’s heart, as he saw something unusual from the corner of his eyes. A shadow, at the edge of the window, in a shape of an … owl?
He suddenly pulled Dandelion behind him, reaching for his sword in a flash, and pointed at the shadow with it in less than a second.
The room froze. The owl, yes indeed an owl, tilting its head, watched them with its round yellow eyes. For no reason, Geralt got a feeling that it found the situation they were in now was quite droll, maybe a little bit dull.
“Show yourself,” he ordered. The hand that he held the sword was steady.
Behind him, Dandelion let out a deep sigh, and his lover started fidgeting uncomfortably.
“Philippa, you had your fun.” he told the owl, “fine, you win. Introduce yourself, or shall I? Oh, Geralt, put down the sword. She won’t hurt us… not for now.”
He lowered the sword but didn’t put it down. The owl flapped its wings and the next second, a woman in a hunting suit appeared gracefully in front of them. Her chestnut hair was falling out of its neat bun. She had a kind of confidence in the way she held herself that strongly reminded him of Yennefer: something that could only be brought by power and experience.
“Introduce us, Dandelion,” she said calmly, not shrinking a bit under the scrutiny of Geralt’s eyes. “Ah, and I see you have grown fond of climbing windows.”
Dandelion flushed furiously, “Geralt, Philippa Eilhart, the loyal sorceress of Redania and the ruler of Redania de facto, alongside Dijkstra. Philippa, Geralt of Rivia. You know who he is. You’re here for him. Alright, can we get down to business now?”
“We knew he would lead us to you, one way or another.” Philippa did not even give Dandelion a sideways glance, “I had my suspicions about the relationship between you two… and now it has been confirmed. Don’t be so offended, Witcher. I know your kind because we are the same kind. I like girls more than you do.”
“Get to the point.” he hissed.
“Not into small talks? Pity. Before I asked you for the information you hold, believe it or not, I came with goodwill.” There was a quite firmness to her voice. “I brought you a little gift. A piece of information.”
Geralt narrowed his eyes.
“You’ve been looking for this Rience… he’s here, in Oxenfurt, right now.”
Behind him, Dandelion gasped. He gripped his lover’s hand firmly, a shiver running down his spine like ice. It was about time. He could almost hear the sound of the Wheel of Fate turning.
And whatever the future held, he felt like an invincible man when he had Dandelion by his side.
END