Chapter Text
“Dad! There’s a weird man playing a guitar and singing outside the door!”
Geralt didn’t get Christmas. He could understand the appeal of having a big family meal, and getting gifts for people to show them you care (it was easier than telling them after all). But the rest of it?
All of the lights and decorations, the music, the obsession with everything Christmas that some people had. Not that he was criticising people for celebrating a religious holiday. But most people weren’t celebrating Christmas for the original reasons anymore. So why was it so popular? Other religions holidays certainly aren’t hyped as much.
Despite all of this, the thing that confused Geralt the most was carol singers. Carols in church, fine. Christmas songs on the radio, despite Geralt’s dislike of them, fine. Going door to door, forcing people to listen to your singing? Odd. So when Ciri yelled that there was someone at the door with a musical instrument, he sighed.
“Leave it, he’ll go away if we don’t answer.”
As the first song ended, Geralt thought that would be the end of it. The usual carollers never stayed long. But as the second song started, and eventually bled into the third, he began to doubt his earlier judgment.
“He’s not leaving.” Ciri stated the obvious.
“Hmm.”
“Well, I want to go and listen to him.”
Geralt heard her little footsteps travel to the front door, and took a deep breath before following. When he reached the door, there stood a man playing his tinsel-adorned guitar with fingers that looked to be slowly turning blue, wrapped up in a thick winter coat and a pink beanie on his head, tufts of brunet hair sticking out from it.
“Good evening!” He beamed, rubbing his hands together, leaving his guitar to hang from its rainbow strap around his neck and shoulders. “I wasn’t sure you were going to answer, it’s been a long day.”
“Dad said to leave it and you’d go away,” Ciri said with all the tact of a 10-year-old.
“Ciri,” Geralt chastised, but the other man just looked amused.
“Oh he did, did he?”
“Mhm, but I wanted to listen.”
“Well, your father can make up for his rudeness by donating to the charity I’m raising money for by doing this, and then you can request any Christmas song you want.”
He shook the money collection box also hanging from his shoulder and it sounded too empty from having done what must have been at least the whole street.
“Doesn’t sound like you have much,” Geralt commented as he got his wallet out of his pocket. Maybe if he gave the man some money, he could be on his way soon.
“Yes,” he winced. “Unfortunately, there are too many people who don’t agree with the charity I’m fundraising for. I didn’t think people were still so bigoted, but the world is constantly full of surprises.”
“What’s the charity?” Geralt dreaded the answer to the question. Christmas was supposed to be a time for acts of charity so why did people not want to donate to this one?
“Oh, uh, an LGBT+ youth homelessness charity.”
“Hmm.” Well then. Maybe instead of the £5 note he was going to put into the pot, Geralt would go for a slightly larger note instead. £20 should make up for what other people are too cruel to give.
As he pushed the note through the gap in the top of the box, the musician looked up at him with poorly concealed admiration in his eyes before breaking out into a wide smile.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “That was very generous of you.”
“People think my dad is grumpy and cruel because he’s big and he frowns all the time,” Ciri began. “But he’s not. He always teaches me to help people who need it. He’s the best.”
“I’m sure he is.” The man looked back up at Geralt from Ciri once again, and gave him a subtle wink.
“You look cold. Dad, can we make him a hot chocolate? He’s not wearing gloves.”
He should be wearing gloves. How careless to be out in this freezing cold weather without proper clothing. It’s probably so he can play his instrument properly, but it’s still stupid.
“Oh no,” the man once again laughed, slightly nervously this time. “I wouldn’t want to be a burden.”
Humming once more, Geralt made his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on. As he walked down the hall, he heard his daughter chatting away to the caroller.
“That means yes. He’s not very talkative but all his sounds mean something different. Please come inside while he makes the hot chocolate. What’s your name?” Ciri was barely giving the other man a chance to respond, but now she waited patiently for him to answer.
“I’m Jaskier.”
“That’s an interesting name.” Ciri voiced exactly what her dad was thinking. “My name is Cirilla, but no one calls me that. It’s Ciri. And my dad is Geralt.”
“Both delightful names, for truly magnificent people,” he replied, leaning his guitar on the wall ready to take the mug Geralt was about to hand to him.
Ciri and Jaskier continued to chat idly whilst they both drank their hot chocolate and Geralt watched them closely. His daughter seemed absolutely taken with this stranger and he couldn’t understand how it had happened so quickly.
Once the drinks had been finished and Jaskier had sung the song he’d promised Ciri after their donation, he stood and moved to shake Geralt’s hand.
“Thank you again for your donation,” he said, moving away again only to gently pat Geralt on the back. “It’ll mean a lot to those kids.”
“No problem,” Geralt rumbled, unsure how to navigate this overly friendly interaction.
“Have an amazing Christmas Geralt and Ciri. Perhaps our paths will cross again!”
And with that, Jaskier left the house in a flourish, with Ciri humming his songs and a faint smell of floral perfume lingering in his wake.
***
The next few days pass by in a haze of work, looking after Ciri, more work, and Christmas songs, and by the time the weekend rolls around, Geralt had nearly forgotten about Jaskier the Carol Singer. Once the weekend arrived however, and he and Ciri were in town for the Christmas Lights Switch On, and as Geralt looked up at the stage in passing, he stopped in his tracks as he made direct eye contact with Jaskier who was stood in the middle of the choir.
“Dad, why did you stop?” Ciri asked, feeling her arm pull as she tried to keep walking but her dad wasn’t moving. “Oh! Is that the carol singer?”
She waved excitedly up at him and he smiled widely, giving a small wave back before slowly mouthing “stay there.” Geralt and Ciri did as they were told, staying to listen to the rest of the choir’s festive set. 3 songs later, the choir filtered off the stage and Jaskier came bounding over towards them like an over excited puppy.
“What a pleasant surprise!” He grinned at Ciri and Geralt in turn. “Now tell me, what did you think of the performance? You must have some review for us, three words or less.”
Ciri giggled at Geralt’s replying grunt before offering up her own answer. “Brilliant!”
“Why thank you, Ciri. High praise indeed.”
“I like your hat.”
“Yes, I quite like it myself, do you think it suits me? I think I might wear it all year round.”
Jaskier wiggled his head from side to side, causing the bell on the end of his elf hat to jingle, and Ciri to laugh even louder.
“What are you doing here in town on this fine Winter day, dear friends?”
“Friends?” Geralt mumbled and the only acknowledgement he got that Jaskier had heard his confusion was a quick glance and smile.
“I wanted to come and see the lights turn on, but I had to convince Dad,” Ciri explained.
“Ahhh, is he a Scrooge?”
A Scrooge? What the hell is a Scrooge? Is this man teaching Ciri rude words? Whatever it means it can’t be good.
“He doesn’t particularly like Christmas, no.” The wisdom with which Ciri appeared to be nodding with was well beyond her years, whilst Geralt was still confused. Even more so, when Jaskier gaped at him and brought a mittened hand up to his chest in offence.
“My dear Geralt, how do you not like Christmas? It’s the most wonderful time of the year!”
“Hmm,” was all Geralt had to say to that.
“He doesn’t hate it,” Ciri explains for him. “We’ll do gifts and dinner and have family over, but he doesn’t really understand everything else. He lets me decorate though.”
“That is very nice of him. Would he object if I returned the favour from the other day, and get you both a hot chocolate? A Christmas flavoured hot chocolate?”
“Oh Dad please!”
As Geralt looked down at Ciri’s pleading face, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to say no, even if it did seem weird to be accepting this offer from an almost complete stranger. But Jaskier didn’t look like he could pose a threat to anyone, especially not bundled up in all his layers to protect against the cold.
“Ok,” he replied quietly.
“It’ll keep you nice and warm whilst you wait for the lights switch on later.”
“Yes!” Ciri bounced up and down as Jaskier proceeded to lead them to a little café around the corner.
Once there, Jaskier bought them all a drink, both Ciri’s and Jaskier’s with cream and marshmallows, and they sat at a small table, tucked away in a secluded little corner. Much like last time, Jaskier and Ciri carried most of the conversation, which was completely fine by Geralt. Rather unexpectedly, he found himself almost endeared to this musician who had treated him and his daughter with such kindness. Sure, he talked a lot, and was way too enthusiastic about everything, but unlike most people he wasn’t put off by Geralt’s lack of responses, or intimidated by his appearance. It was a welcome change.
Eventually he bid them farewell once more and vanishing into the crowds as Geralt and Ciri waited for that magic moment when the streets would be illuminated by colourful Christmas lights, the warmth from the cafe sustaining them.