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A winter at Oxenfurt had been just what Jaskier needed. His poor feet had finally recovered from months on the road, dancing alongside his darling witcher and their beautiful mare. He’d had spent the last few months with a belly full of the finest wines and feasts, his bed never cold and empty. It was luxurious.
It was dull.
The lectures were starting to feel like a chore, and not even the bright young things and their enraptured attention could make Jaskier feel better. He yearned for the open road, the dirt underfoot, the gorgeous scent of wildflowers. He was however, rather delighted with the salary he’d been afforded over the last few months. His coin purse hadn’t been this full since he’d left home so many years ago.
So naturally he spent the whole lot in one go, never learning how to hold onto his money in his youth. It was a folly but life with the witcher meant he never really had to worry about saving his money. They barely earned enough to cover the cost of living. He never had the opportunity to spend more than he could afford. He’d meant to buy himself a dagger. Something simple so he could protect himself when Geralt wasn’t around. He was no fool. Travelling with the White Wolf was starting to put a target on his back. He grinned as his finger stroked the hilt of the sword he’d bought instead. It was absolutely stunning, bejewelled, extravagant, perfect for a bard. It was light in weight, much like the rapiers he’d trained with as a boy, and he couldn’t wait to show off his new purchase to Geralt.
He swaggered through the streets of Oxenfurt, sword strapped to his side and lute on his back. He swiped his fringe from his eyes as he reached the tavern. He waved cheerily at the barmaid, giving her a cheeky wink, then turned his gaze to the darkest corner of the tavern. Sure enough, there was one Geralt of Rivia, looking as brooding and handsome as ever. Jaskier sauntered over to the witcher. He put one hand on his hip and flashed Geralt a coy smile.
“Fancy seeing you here, witcher,” he drawled flirtatiously as if they hadn’t planned this meeting months ago before the frost had come.
He saw Geralt’s lips quirk up in a smile. “I’m here to drink alone, bard.”
Jaskier chuckled at the call back to their first meeting. Despite everything he remembered it fondly. It had been the start of a new chapter in his life, and one that had bought him fame, not fortune, but most importantly life long companionship.
“Oh shush, you can’t hide your smiles from me, Geralt. I know you better than that, my darling,” Jaskier scolded his witcher gently, and then drew his sword with a bright smile. Geralt snarled, and moved to stop him but Jaskier paid him no attention. The patrons of this particular tavern knew him well, they wouldn’t blink twice at him drawing a sword. He was their most popular bard, much to Valdo Marx’s displeasure and Jaskier’s utter delight. “Now, Geralt, what do you think of this? Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Beautiful and useless, now put it away before you poke someone’s eye out, namely your own.”
Jaskier scoffed, twirling the sword expertly in his hand with an agile flick of his wrist. The blade cut through the air, a blur a silver and gold. Jaskier was rather pleased with the swishing sounds it made, and it all looked pretty impressive.
“Jaskier!” Geralt growled. “That’s not how you use a sword.”
“Shush, Geralt. I was trained you know, both at my childhood home and then later at Oxenfurt, granted the later was stage combat but I do know a thing or two.”
“And I am a witcher, bard. If you want a sword we’ll get you one, but afterwards we are having lessons, and you won’t protest. Not one word.”
“Geralt,” Jaskier whined, still not sheathing the blade.
Geralt didn’t answer. Instead he just drew his own steel blade from the scabbard lying against the bench. In one swift blow Jaskier’s sword flew from his hand, scattering across the floor, the blade completely severing from the hilt.
Jaskier cried out as he saw he precious weapon destroyed. “Geralt! There was no need for that you brute!”
“I can fix it, if you are attached, but that sword is an ornament, nothing more,” Geralt stated as he sheathed his own sword.
Jaskier muttered wordlessly under his breath and went to pick up his useless purchase. He sighed wearily, at least life with Geralt was never dull. They couldn’t even get an ale in a tavern without something going wrong. He smiled to himself, knowing that Geralt couldn’t see him with his back turned. He couldn’t wait to see what the new year would have in store for them.