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    Summary

    “You don’t sing at all anymore.”

    A statement and not a question. Jaskier, bright as ever, with the finest of clothing on, carelessly flinging his many rings onto the table in his chambers hears it and spins around quick to face Geralt. Hands on his hips and tunic unbuttoned he smiles up at his companion and sighs wistfully, “Dearest Garalt if only we were all like you- but unfortunately the rest of must make due with the measly years we’re given, and if we fail enough at something eventually we must give it up,” and here he strips the tunic off completely and flails dramatically onto the bed, all while avoiding eye contact, “But look at it this way- one man’s failed bard is another man’s renowned bedwarmer!” A wink for good measure.

    - or, whilst Geralt and Yennefer are off raising Ciri and watching their romantic relationship deteriorate, Jaskier retires from bardship and becomes a royal bedwarmer and absolutely nobody is happy but they work it out

    Language:
    English
    Words:
    1,474
    Chapters:
    1/3
    Comments:
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    Kudos:
    448
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