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The gardens at Oxenfurt university were quite possibly Dandelion’s favourite place on the Continent. They were bright and colourful, and they smelled simply divine. Over his last few years at teaching at the academy during the winter months he’d slowly managed to bribe the gardeners. They now grew a small garden dedicated to the most useful and rare flowers used in Geralt’s witcher potions. Dandelion collected them whenever he was in Oxenfurt to take back to Geralt. His witcher still hadn’t worked out how Dandelion was acquiring such rare gifts but he was grateful all the same.
But that wasn’t why Dandelion loved the garden.
In all honesty, the witcher flowers smelled a little bitter and they weren’t exactly the most beautiful blooms to look at. The things he sacrificed for love. No, he much preferred the snowdrops and honeysuckle that bloomed so beautiful during the winter months, the colourful pansies, and aconites that covered the garden in vibrant yellow just as the snow was starting to melt. The aconites were probably his favourite. He’d always been partial to a golden yellow flower. He’d chosen the name Dandelion after all. There was also a small selection of spring and summer flowers that bloomed all year round, thanks to the local mage and the enchantments meant they stayed fresh for weeks after they’d been picked. They made for the best flower crowns.
His fingers were cold from the icy wind but he ignored it. His gloves lay on top of his hat as he worked. He braided the cornflowers together with ease, lute playing had gifted him with nimble fingers. His tongue flicked out between his lips as he threaded the stalks together until he was left with a circle of blue flowers. He was delighted with his work. The deep rich blue of the cornflowers would match his eyes.
“Hmm.” He glanced around the gardens. “I just need one last thing. Ah. There we go!”
He grinned as he picked a handful of buttercups before lacing them into the crown. He ran his fingers through his hair, the tight curls had dropped into longer waves as the day had progressed. Once he was happy that he’d gotten all the knots out he plopped the crown on his head in lieu of his hat.
“Perfect!” He announced to no one in particular and sighed sadly. Geralt was still at Kaer Morhen with the other witchers. He had been to the great witcher keep but the path was difficult and it was always so frightfully cold. He’d decided to stay in Oxenfurt instead this year. His salary as a professor over winter would help them both during the warmer months and he did enjoy the comforts of Oxenfurt.
He always missed his husband terribly when they were apart though.
He gathered up his hat and gloves in his hands then hurried back to his rooms. His finger tips were starting to turn a rather alarming shade of blue. He pulled on his fur lined gloves, a present from Geralt last winter, and tightened the fastenings of his thick cloak around his shoulders as he strode through the halls of the university towards his rooms.
“That’s your best one yet, Professor!” One of his students called as he passed them.
He gave them a wink and touched the crown on his head. “Thank you, my dear!”
When he was back in his rooms he called for some hot wine to be brought up as he removed his winter cloak and gloves. He settled down in the cushioned nook by the window and gazed out forlornly. He wondered what Geralt was up to now. The sun was just beginning to set in the sky and soon the stars would be shining in the night sky. Dandelion always adored looking up at the moon when they were apart. The silver light from the moon always reminded him of Geralt’s soft long hair. He could remember the feel of the strands between his fingers as he helped to wash the gore and dirt from the silvery locks. He smiled fondly as he pictured Geralt’s face in the mornings. His hair always ended up tangled and messy over night. He’d wake up grumpy and looking like he’d been dragged along the ground behind dear Roach.
Dandelion sighed again and pulled out some parchment to write a letter. He wrote down his love of the moon. The way the soft pale light brushed his cheeks, and how he imagined that it was Geralt’s kiss in the dark. He wondered whether Geralt ever looked up at the moon and thought of him too. He hoped he did. They were worlds apart but the moon was the same no matter where they were. He wrote down the ache in his heart as he woke up to a cold and lonely bed. He dreamed of the warmth spring would bring and his longing to be reunited with his love.
He hummed softly under his breath as he wrote, the only other sound was the scratching of his quill on the paper. Once he was done he sprayed the parchment just once with his favourite perfume and cut off a small lock of his hair to tuck into the letter. Geralt would probably roll his eyes and call him a romantic fool, but he was a poet after all.
Dandelion gazed out the window over the city of Oxenfurt. What he wouldn’t give to see his husband’s familiar shining silver hair? He pouted and twirled a lock of his hair between his fingers. The movement made his flower crown fall down in front of his eyes and he chuckled to himself as he brushed the flowers back on top of his head.
Spring was approaching fast, he reminded himself as the sun finally dropped below the horizon. “Not long now, my love.”