Chapter Text
Geralt couldn’t see straight, or maybe he wasn’t standing upright. Well, either way, he was dangerously close to falling on the floor and not far from puking. He was slouched against the stone archway of lady Lilainne’s garden party, too full of her very expensive and very old wine. The night was cold, but he preferred the silence over the sickly-sweet melodies of the band and the incessant chattering of the other guests.
“Geeeeraaaaalt…” A musical voice called out over the garden, and he swears it might be spirits of the afterlife coming to take him for his alcohol poisoning. But no, a bard stumbles from the other side of the marble archway, swinging along another bottle of wine.
“Hm?” Geralt said and let his eyes drift shut. The darkness swirled behind his eyes, but he didn’t have to see Jaskier clamor through the dirt over to him. The bard propped one hand on the wall, dangling the wine bottle in a hand placed precariously on his hip.
“How are you enjoying…” He trails off, getting lost in his own head for a moment before snapping back to reality with a few rapid blinks. “The party?” Jaskier tops it off with a sweet-looking smile, staring at the Witcher with soft, distant eyes. Geralt tries to respond but as soon as he opens his mouth, he’s interrupted by Jaskier heaving a wine-laden laugh.
“Her ladyship wanted me too…” He looks around with all too wide eyes, before leaning in closer to Geralt, “Marry her daughter Lisette.” He burps into a fit of giggles before pointing his finger down his throat and mock-gagging. “I heard she was refused by Duke Maron de Ghislain! Can you imagine being denied by a lord with nothing to his name but pig farms and tacky paintings?” He cackles maniacally before slumping harder up against the wall, damn near knocking his head against the stone.
“Hm.” Geralt grunts. Jaskier, left with nothing to work with, falls back into an uneasy silence, and Geralt can hear the soft rustles of foliage again. He watches impatiently as the bard takes another long swig from the bottle, before tossing it behind him.
“Why can’t the real Dukes and Duchesses want me to marry into their family?” He sighs before lurching up from the wall, meandering off further into the garden. Geralt waits a moment before realizing that the bard was going to get into trouble if he doesn’t follow, and with a sigh, trails him. “I’m charming, I’m witty, quite the killer at parties.” He pointedly looks at Geralt, “But I get stuck with pig farmers, terrible entertainment, and shite brandy.”
“I’m not exactly a party person.” Geralt grunts.
“That’s because you like to sleep in the dirt Geralt.”
The witcher made a sour face. “If you hate it so much, then why are we here?”
Dandelion ponders, he takes a cursory look at Geralt “Well I suppose it’s because you look rather good in my old silks and filigree.” He gives the witcher another look up and down. “You know Geralt, you’d make quite the killing at these parties if you liked people a little more.”
“I have no interest in making a killing at any of your parties.” Geralt grunts.
“Sheesh, quite the date you are.” The bard retorts, turning away flippantly. “I’ve had quite a bit of the Montigerre and since you already seem to be in a sour mood, we should leave before her ladyship buys a ring for Lisette in my honor.”
“Hm.” Geralt grunts. “I’m not your date.”
“Oh, well you should probably tell that to Lilainne.” Jaskier giggles as he meanders beneath one of the plant arches.
“What?!” Geralt, mustering whatever semblance of sobriety he had left, rushed forward and grabbed the other man by the shoulder, forcing him around. “What did you say to Lilainne?”
Dandelion, utterly discombobulated, searched the other man's face. Satisfied that this was another one of his friend's fits of bluster, Dandelion gently removed Geralt’s large hand off him. “What was I supposed to do? I can’t just flat out refuse a Duchesses’ proposal without a reason, and at her own party, Geralt?” He dusts off the shoulder of his doublet, “I don’t have a death wish.”
The witcher clenched his fists, staving off an incoming migraine. Drunken rage made him shake. Geralt takes in an unsteady breath, he growls, “What did you say to Lilainne?”
Dandelion sees the bluster morph into unbridled anger, and he goes bright red, avoiding the witcher’s amber gaze. “I, um, may have told her ladyship that I am married to the Witcher taking a momentary reprieve from the party in her garden. “
“You’re telling me, that a Redanian Duchess believes you’re married to a Witcher?”
“I—well, yes.”
Like a caged bull, Geralt snorts and turns on heel, sweeping up Jaskier’s arm in his hand. “You are going back to that hall this instant to correct her, and then we are leaving.”
“Wait!” Jaskier digs his heels into the dirt, clawing at Geralt’s silken shirt. Their gazes meet, and its either the drink or the tingly feeling in his chest, but Geralt lets the bard go.
“What?”
“Listen, I’ve dug myself in a bit of a whole here, I don’t want to marry Lisette and if I tell the Duchess that I lied, she’ll tell every lord and lady in Redania and I’ll never be able to play here again!” Jaskier steps into the Witcher’s personal space, fisting his hands in the other man’s shirt. “Just play along until the end of the party please!”
Geralt snorts again, “What’s stopping Lilainne from telling all these lords and ladies that we’re married?”
The bard’s face drops. “I…don’t know.” He tries to give the witcher and apologetic smile.
“Right,” Geralt grabs the two hands on his chest and starts to drag again. “So, we’re going to fix this problem before we can’t anymore.”
“But--!” The bard cries out as he’s practically carried by the chest across the garden, back to Duchess Lilainne’s Mansion.
-0-
Geralt doesn’t let the bard go until they’re at the front steps of the veranda. The party is still going strong, and the music is lilting out into the garden, albeit without their lute player.
After he’s unceremoniously dropped at the steps, Jaskier struggles to find his footing. “Geralt you can’t expect me to go inside looking like this!” He gestures to his now mussed clothes. “It’s a party! If I’m going to humiliate myself in front of everyone in Redania you could at least have been gentle…” The witcher gives him no response besides a pointed scowl.
Jaskier deflates, he looks to the wide-open doors leading into the main hall, then back to the witcher, who raises an eyebrow. Fear twists in the bard’s gut and he turns back to Geralt to protest again, but he’s interrupted by the sound of heels on polished marble.
“…I’m sure he’s still here my lady, that bard couldn—” A man is cut off by the shrill voice of the Duchess.
“His name is Jaskier! And if I find out that weasel is—”
Jaskier panics at the sound of her voice, and his eyes snap to Geralt, who is still looking at him expectantly. The heels draw closer, and the bard is thrown into a frenzy. The witcher just folds his arms and watches as the bard moves through every stage of agony in an instant.
Geralt almost feels bad. Almost. But the smug satisfaction of the bard finally getting the brunt of his own bad luck for once is enough for him to not care. But Jaskier flits his panicked gaze to him, and something in the vibrant blue of his eyes unhinges something deep in Geralt’s chest.
Jaskier throws the other man into a hurried kiss. It’s chaste and much too firm but Geralt is startled enough not to stop him. Jaskier’s lips move seamlessly against the others as Lilainne crests the top of the stairs, Geralt’s hands had moved to the bard’s waist in a failed attempt to move him away. The Duchess sees the two of them wrapped in an embrace and is just as surprised as the witcher. “Oh! My goodness!” She says exasperatedly before quickly scurrying away from the scene, her exhausted steward in tow. By the time she’s gone, Geralt finally manages to push the bard off him.
“JASKIER!” Geralt snaps, but the look on the bard’s face belays no fear. In fact, from the flush on his cheeks to the playful smirk that graced his lips, he seemed quite content.
“My apologies, sir witcher.” The smirk breaks into a smile as he bows, mocking him. “Shall we return to the party?” He extends his elbow with a flourish.