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Dandelion huffed and squinted at his book. The words were out of focus and his head was beginning to ache from straining his eyes. He’d left his glasses upstairs in Geralt’s room. They’d fallen asleep together last night having stayed up too late reminiscing about their adventures from many moons ago. It had been nice to have the company. They didn’t share a bed that often these days. There was no longer any excuse. They had money and they had space and Corvo Bianco was kept warm even in the mild Toussiant winters by the fireplaces in both their rooms.
Geralt rarely took contracts anymore. He helped nearby wine merchants when they ran into monster problems but only if they sought him out. Most of time was spent with Roach in the picturesque countryside of Toussiant or visiting Yennefer and Ciri when the mood struck him. Dandelion joined Geralt for picnics in the fields and every few years they would venture further north to meet up with Eskel and Lambert. It wasn’t as far as Kaer Morhen. Dandelion couldn’t make it up the mountain anymore and the keep was no longer habitable even for the witchers.
Time was a cruel queen.
“Geralt!” He called out for his friend. He could go upstairs himself but his knees were aching and he was comfortable in his arm chair by the window.
Geralt was probably in the stables with Roach. He hadn’t seen the pair ride out down the path so Geralt would hear him. His keen witchers senses had to count for something.
“Geralt I need my glasses!” He called louder and pouted. He looked up at the ceiling with a heavy sigh.
“You’re more trouble than you’re worth, poet.” Geralt smirked as he pushed open the front door. “I just had a raven from Yen. She’s visiting with Ciri next week.”
“Oh?” Dandelion hummed and tilted his head. “That’ll be nice. Gods, How old is she now? I lose track.”
“Ciri?” Geralt scowled. “I don’t know. How are old are you?”
Dandelion stuck his tongue out as he tried to count back. A few decades ago he’d finally had to admit that he wasn’t entirely human. They’d suspected he might have elven blood for years but after all his classmates from Oxenfurt were long dead and he barely had a grey hair to show for it, he’d finally asked Yennefer to confirm the truth of the matter.
“Umm….” Dandelion pulled on one of his curls. They were finally beginning to fade to a snowy white and his hair certainly wasn’t as thick as it had been but he kept it long. The habit of playing with his hair was a hard one to beat, and soon he would match Geralt in both length and colour.
“Ciri can’t keep track either. Apparently time travel makes it a mess.” Geralt squatted down next to him and pulled Dandelion’s fingers from his hair. “It doesn’t matter.”
Dandelion snorted. “I’m old, Geralt!” He whined. “Hell, I can hardly get on my horse anymore, I can’t read properly and I’m getting wrinkles!”
Geralt brushed a thumb across his cheek. “You look fine, Dandelion. Stop moaning.”
Dandelion just huffed and crossed his arms. “Do me a favour, old friend, and get my glasses? I left them in your room.”
Geralt stood up and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but you’ll read to me?”
Dandelion laughed and he pulled off his hat, letting it drop into his lap so he could run his fingers through his hair. “Oh if you insist, my dear witcher.”
Geralt gave him a small smile and nodded. “I do.”
“Grab my lute from my room whilst you’re up there?” Dandelion called as Geralt started to make his way up the stairs.
“Did you want a dance whilst you’re at it?” Geralt yelled back.
Dandelion giggled at the mental image of his witcher dancing for him. “Well, now that you mention it!”
“Fuck off, Dandelion.”
Dandelion grinned and let his head fall back against his chair as he sighed dramatically. After so many years of his youth wasted on keeping up appearances as the unparalleled lover of all, Dandelion the bard and master of seduction, he was finally free. He was Dandelion, best friend and life partner to one Geralt of Rivia. They had their house and their life together. There were no expectations of grand romances or marriage or sex. It was just Dandelion and Geralt in their vineyard and that was everything Dandelion had ever truly wanted.