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Once upon a time, there was a little selkie called Julian. He was a curious little thing, always straying farther from his colony than his siblings, chasing the rays of light. His parents watched his interest of the human world grow with concern, but didn’t stop him when he was older and asked to see it for himself. His father was not thrilled in the least, but his mother convinced him. After all, maybe if the pup saw it once, he would finally forget about it. With a sigh, his father set off with Julian in tow. They swam far longer than Julian had ever swam in his short life and when he grew tired, he held onto his father’s flipper. After several hours, they arrived at the shore and Julian stuck his little head out of the waves. The sight before him was unlike anything he had ever seen. The rays of light bouncing off the waves were almost blinding and the sky above was filled with colours. In the distance, he could see a sliver of sand and dunes, just like the ones under water. Julian’s father huffed at the light, squinting. After a while, his father insisted they return to the colony.
Of course, little Julian’s interest was only sparked further. He took his siblings to see the shore and as he grew older, he managed the distance without problems. Among all his siblings, the one who could best understand his fascination was Essi. They discovered that around certain times of the year, when the moon stood just right, the humans would make a big fire that could be seen from the shore. As they watched the humans dance and revel on the sand, Julian longed to join them. When he told Essi one night, she only fixed him with her blue eyes. “You’ve always been destined to live another life, be something more,” she said.
On his 18th birthday, she approached him early in the morning before any of their siblings or parents were awake. He was dragged along to a deep part of the sea where he’d never been before and he wondered where his little sister was leading him. They came to a halt before a dark cave. Julian’s eyes were slow in adjusting to the blackness of the entrance and it seemed that all the light of the surface was sucked away by it.
“A sea witch lives here. Urszula. Alina said her grandmother told her about a legend once. There was a selkie in our colony long ago, who fell in love with a human. When her parents found out, they chased her until she fled into this cave. Alina’s grandmother said she bargained with the witch and went to live with her human.” Julian couldn’t believe his ears. Before he could say anything, she shoved him into the darkness.
“Go. I’ll be waiting.”
Julian swam forward hesitantly. His eyes had adjusted to the sparse light and in the distance he could see purple and deep blue lights. He followed them until the tunnel opened to a giant cave. Its’ walls were covered in algae and other unrecognizable plants, all emitting a soft light.
“And what do we have here?”, a deep velvety voice asked.
Julian whirled around, trying to locate the speaker. A shiver went down his back. He had never seen a creature like that in his life. The witch’s upper body reminded him of the female humans, but below her waist her body was that of a kraken. She was standing beside several enormous pots that, as his mind reminded him conveniently, could easily fit two or three of him. He gathered all his courage.
“You are the witch of the sea, Urszula.” The witch inclined her head and eyed him. Slowly, a grin spread over her features, her violet eyes shining like the plants around them. She eyed him and he struggled not to squirm under her calculating gaze. “You have come to bargain for a life on land,” she said, chuckling. Maybe, Julian thought, this had been a very bad idea. But he remained rooted on his spot, unable to look away from the witch’s gaze.
“Poor little selkie pup,” she continued, “do they not teach you the ways anymore? Do you have to make busy old Urszula show you how to shed your selkie coat?” She cocked her head and Julian swallowed. He had never heard of a selkie shedding their coat before. He nodded nonetheless.
“Very well. But everything comes with a price. You see, selkie males can summon horrible storms and the elixirs brewed from selkie tears are…” she paused, expression distant, “beyond powerful.” She returned her violet gaze to him. “What do you say?”
Julian paused to think. If his tears were all the witch wanted in exchange for this knowledge, he would gladly pay the price.
He nodded. “It is a bargain.”
Her grin became feral. “Exquisite.”
She handed him a flacon to collect his tears, then set to rummaging about the cave, putting together a small pouch with herbs. As he thought about his life and the people he loved that he would leave behind, the tears came easily and soon Julian handed the small bottle back to the witch. She exchanged it for the pouch and proceeded to rattle off the instructions, looking almost bored.
To shed his coat, all he had to do was think about his skin falling from his shoulders to the ground. Julian wanted to laugh at the simple way it was done. He had to drink the tea every month to keep the call of the sea at bay and he had to return every year to get a new batch of herbs. In his human form, his selkie coat would be his most prized possession, for if a human found it, he would belong to that human and could never return to sea.
Julian committed the witch’s words to memory and thanked her. Urszula only smiled.
Essi was waiting at the entrance. He explained his bargain with the witch and embraced his sister tightly. They swam to the shore just as they had done countless times, but this time Essi would be returning by herself. Their goodbye was tearful and Julian wondered again at the power selkie tears could have. For the first time in his life, he swam to the shore until he could feel the rough sand under his belly. His body felt heavy like never before but he heaved himself out of the water.
He did as Urszula had instructed and thought of his skin falling away like a wave from his body and suddenly he was shivering, lying naked on the beach. He turned, gathering up his coat and folding it neatly, he stashed it in the pouch Urszula had given him. Like magic, it fit snugly inside without problem. He looked out to the sea and spotted Essi, her beautiful form dancing between the waves. He raised his arm in goodbye, then started his trek up the dunes.
After a day on land, a woman found him alone on the road, shivering and hungry and took him in. She fed him warm soup and gave him her husband’s old clothes. He learned that he was a sailor away on the sea. He stayed with the woman for a week and learned to navigate his new body, long limbs and all. When the woman climbed into his bed one night, equally as naked as him, Julian discovered the pleasures of the human body. The woman showed him the way to the nearest village and Julian continued his journey.
He started singing in taverns and on the streets, quickly learning that he needed coin to feed himself and have a roof over his head. He kept his pouch at his hip and didn’t take it off even in his sleep. Julian discovered that women and men were drawn to him in equal measure and he gladly took them to bed, sometimes more than one in a night, sometimes several at once. His singing brought him a fair bit of coin and even more reputation, as did his bedroom activities.
On one such night, after bedding a fairly handsome man, he asked Julian to sing for him. Julian indulged him and the man gifted him his first lute. Julian threw himself into mastering the instrument and continued his travels inwards, away from the sea. He went from town to village to settlement, learning all the songs he could pick up. He decided to change his name when his reputation outgrew him and became known as the traveling bard Jaskier.
On a fateful day in Posada, he met the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. At first, he was wary to approach him, witchers were monster hunters and Jaskier was not human. But he couldn’t resist the call of adventure and he accompanied the witcher to the end of the world. And although he lost his lute, most prized possession only second to his selkie coat, he gained new respect for the witcher, who had helped the elves although it yielded nothing for him. (And a new lute for Jaskier.) Perhaps the world had been wrong about witchers. Of course, what else was there to do except follow him in his travels? So, much to the witcher’s dismay, Jaskier stuck to him like a clam to a stone.
They traveled for years and Jaskier fell in love. How could he not, his witcher was so brave and selfless, it was infuriating, and even though he claimed he didn’t want to get involved, he always did, sticking his nose in other people’s business. It settled like a stone in his chest, this secret love. They continued to travel, Jaskier continued to sing, to love his witcher and to bed his way across the continent.
Every year, when Geralt retreated to his winter keep, Jaskier would return to the sea to collect his pouch of herbs and visit his family. He learned that Essi had followed in his footsteps and went to travel the continent. Jaskier decided to keep an eye out for his little sister.
They met Yennefer of Vengerberg in Rinde and Jaskier was instantly wary of the witch’s violet eyes, seeing through him in an instant. He briefly wondered if violet eyes were a common trait for witches.
It was love at first sight for Geralt and Jaskier’s heart broke a little at the look in his friend’s eyes. He left them alone for a few weeks and found the call of the sea stronger than ever before, so he drank his tea and met up with Geralt a few towns over. The witcher’s golden eyes were clouded with anger and sadness and Jaskier didn’t press him. That winter, Jaskier decided to visit Oxenfurt and see the famed city for himself. He found Essi there, already an established professor at the University. They spent a happy winter going to fetes and street festivals, drinking sweet wine and exchanging stories about their travels. Jaskier spilled his heart to Essi and she told him about a medic named Shani and they wallowed in their shared incompetence in matters of the heart. When spring came, Jaskier promised to return next winter after his visit at the sea and they parted with a tight embrace.
He met up with Geralt just like every year, finding each other by hear-say and rumors alone and they fell into the same patterns as always. His love was not gone, but Jaskier learned to live with his aching heart, pouring it into his music. Whenever they met Yennefer, he would leave for a few days and start singing in other villages. Geralt would always find him afterwards, expression dark and even more taciturn than usual. Jaskier grew accustomed to the way the witcher and the sorceress couldn’t seem to escape each other, the way they fell into bed with the force of a great storm and left each other just as quickly. He could see his friend suffering, but who was he to give advice on love, whose heart cracked a bit more each time Geralt took Yennefer to bed and whose heart healed again each time Geralt found his way back to him.
Then they went on the blasted dragon hunt. They hadn’t seen Yennefer in a while and just like summoning a devil, she appeared, ethereal and powerful as always.
By now, his chest barely ached when he saw them together and Jaskier made a decision. In their twenty-odd years of traveling together, Geralt had never made an indication that he knew Jaskier’s true nature. He knew that Geralt was a protector of those who were other, just like he protected humans from monsters. If he would accept it, Jaskier would gift him his seal coat. As a witcher, Geralt would know what it meant to be offered such a thing by a selkie. Jaskier knew his love was hopeless and his friend would never be cruel so Geralt would reject him in his kind, quiet way and Jaskier could finally be done with it, heal his broken heart and return to the coast. Or he could visit Essi in Oxenfurt and drink away his sorrows. And maybe, after a few years had passed, he could return to Geralt’s side as his friend and they could travel together again.
He nodded to himself and followed the bizarre party up the mountain.
Borch and his companions fell down the mountain and Jaskier could see that his friend was blaming himself for their death. When he saw Geralt sitting on a boulder, overlooking the lands below, Jaskier approached him cautiously. It pained him to see him suffer, but nothing he could say would make Geralt blame himself less. He tried nonetheless.
“You did your best. There’s nothing else you could have done.” He watched Geralt from the side, but the witcher’s face was turned away toward the valley, golden eyes lost and face impassive like stone. On a fools whim Jaskier tried to offer Geralt the greatest comfort he could imagine.
“Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow?” He paused to gauge Geralt’s reaction. Still, the witcher’s face yielded nothing. “We could head to the coast. Get away for a while.” He was nearly breathless with anticipation. This was his chance.
“Sounds like something Borch would say, doesn’t it? ‘Life is too short. Do what pleases you…’”, he held his breath, “’while you can.’”
“Composing you next song?”, Geralt asked.
Jaskier swallowed, heart thundering in his chest. “No, I’m just, uh..,” he trailed off. “Just trying to work out what pleases me.”
His mind was racing with thoughts, but his courage was gone.
He balled his fists in his lap as he watched Geralt leave for Yennefer’s tent. He tried to quell his aching heart but to no avail. Maybe it was finally time to accept the rejection, as unspoken as it had been.
He went to sleep and conveniently missed the fight, which he wasn’t at all disappointed about in all honesty. It always involved an awful lot of blood and swords and general unpleasantness.
He barely arrived in time to hear the shouts Yennefer and Geralt exchanged. He watched Yennefer storm off in a whirl of wild gooseberry and whooshing skirts, leaving Geralt behind. Borch exchanged more words with Geralt and Jaskier heard enough to understand they were talking about Geralt’s Child Surprise. The old man walked away. Geralt looked so lost and Jaskier’s heart bled again. Geralt turned away from him, his eyes a storm of emotions Jaskier had never seen before.
Jaskier didn’t know what to do with himself then, but his heart told him he had to try and comfort his friend.
“Phew, what a day,” he tried. “I imagin-“ He never got to say what he had imagined, because suddenly Geralt turned back to him and started shouting.
“Damn it, Jaskier! Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you, shoveling it.”
Jaskier tried to defend himself, but for once, Geralt was talking over him. “The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it!” Jaskier couldn’t believe the fury and hatred in his friends eyes.
“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”
With that, Geralt turned away once more.
Jaskier felt his heart shatter into a million pieces. Of course the witcher didn’t want him around. All those years, it had always been Jaskier finding him, bothering him.
Afterwards, he couldn’t remember what he’d said, but he somehow made it down the blasted mountain. He forgot to take his tea but it hardly mattered, he was headed to the coast anyway. He sang to sustain himself until he arrived at the village closest to his colony. With his last coin, he bought a waterproof chest and hid his clothes and his lute in a cave below the water. He took his selkie coat and returned to the sea.
His family welcomed him warmly although they quietly wondered why he’d come back so early. He passed his days helping his mother wrangling his siblings and hunting with his father and the other warriors from his colony. For a while, it was enough. Jaskier nursed his bleeding heart and regaled his siblings with the tales of adventures he had experienced at the witcher’s side.
After a few months, the same urge from his youth returned and he found himself swimming closer to the shore again, observing the humans. The one he was looking for was never there. Geralt had never taken contracts near the coast after all.
A year passed and one day, Jaskier tasted something all too familiar in the water. Horrified, he followed it all the way to the coast where he found the witcher in the midst of battle against three sea creatures. There was blood all around them, spreading in a cloud of black and red. Geralt was badly injured, knee-deep in the waves, feet swaying in the uneven sand.
The monsters were working themselves into a frenzy, the blood spurring them on all the more. Just as Jaskier arrived, Geralt collapsed into the shallow water. In a fit of rage Jaskier launched himself at the nearest monster with his fangs and sharps claws, using all the strength and tricks his father had taught him on the hunt. The water turned opaque with monster blood and Jaskier dragged his friend out of the water onto the wet sand.
He transformed in a heartbeat and dropped to his knees beside his friend. Geralt was in bad shape, there were several nasty gashes along his ribs and a deep wound in his thigh that was spewing blood. He looked around and spotted Roach not too far away. He whistled. She came trotting, good girl that she was.
Frantically he dragged the saddlebags from her back, looking for Swallow or Kiss. Finally he found the round pink potion and uncorked the bottle with his teeth. He took Geralt’s head in his arms, pressing the bottle to his lips. Carefully, he made sure his friend drank every last drop, then followed up with Swallow. He’d learned a thing or two in the twenty years he had followed the witcher around the Continent, those potions would be sure to heal him. Already, the skin on his ribs was knitting itself together, leaving behind small pink scars. The wound on Geralt’s thigh was taking longer, but Jaskier knew that was to be expected with such a deep gash. Relieved, he set Geralt’s head back on the sand. In that moment, his friend’s last words to him came rushing back. Jaskier winced and got up. He’d done enough, Geralt would be fine and it was best for both of them if he simply disappeared again. He picked up his coat and stroked Roach one last time, then he dove back between the waves.
When Geralt woke up, he was lying on the wet sand and Roach was nibbling at his hair. He stroked her soft nose, taking stock of his body methodically. His ribs ached in a familiar way and his thigh throbbed, but it was nothing against the pain he had felt when he fell into the water. He sat up abruptly, trying to remember who or what had saved him. He had been certain that his search for Jaskier had come to an end. After all, witchers always died in battle. They didn’t get to live peaceful lives in the city. No, Geralt had been sure he had made his final mistake in engaging the sea monster, the last in a long line of mistakes he’d made in his life. Vesemir would have scolded him for taking such careless risks. But the coast was the only hint he had for his friends’ whereabouts. It hadn’t taken him long to realize what a mistake he had made shouting at his only friend on top of that cursed mountain. He had tried to find Jaskier afterwards, but he had evaded him. He’d asked around in the biggest cities, but the famous bard was nowhere to be found, almost as if he had disappeared from the Continent. It had taken Geralt half a year to pinpoint the little village a few miles away as the last place Jaskier had been seen. He had taken a room at the inn and gone to explore the nearby sea, where he’d conveniently found a monster to take out his frustration. That brought him back to his current situation on the beach. Something or someone had saved him from the creature, had killed it for him. He looked around, but the only living creature around him was Roach. He remembered falling into the water, muscles seizing up from the cold, blood staining the water red and black. Then something had gripped him by the armour and dragged him to the beach. Bloodloss had made things fuzzy then and Geralt had imagined seeing Jaskier tending to him just as he had done countless times before. But that couldn’t be true, could it? Jaskier was far away, probably in another town, reveling and singing and bedding his way through the population.
Despite himself, the pang of jealousy hit him hard. It had taken him a long time to understand his… feelings for the bard. Another encounter with Yennefer had finally made him see. It had felt good, to have someone by his side during his travels, someone to return to in spring, someone to laugh and argue with about the most trivial things. It had never felt that way with her. No, it had been all-consuming, intoxicating, being with Yennefer of Vengerberg. But with Jaskier, it had felt like being home. Until he had thrown it all away in a fit of self-hate and rage. Yennefer had taken one look at him and said, “You should try the coast.” He’d asked and pleaded for her to tell him more but she’d shaken her head. “You’ll have to figure this one out on your own.” With that, she’d left the tavern just as quickly as she’d come.
Geralt scrubbed his hand over his face, gathering his thoughts. It would do him no good to lay around thinking about the past. If he wanted to find Jaskier, he had to investigate the village and people. He got up and lead Roach back to the road.
He returned to his inn room to wash the sand and sea salt from his skin. After a change of clothes he sat himself down at the main room. Now came the part he hated most, talking to the other patrons. Jaskier had always been so much better at this than himself, charming and smiling his way into coin purses and underclothes. Geralt sighed and walked to the bar. He ordered ale and a fish soup and asked about the local folklore. The inn-keep only raised his eyebrows.
“Yer a witcher aren’t ya?”, he asked. Geralt nodded and prepared himself for whatever ugly thing would come out of the man’s mouth next. But the man only pointed towards a corner of the main room, close to the big hearth. “You’ll have to talk to Elwira over there, the old hag knows everything there is to know ‘bout legends.” He nodded, taking his food and making his way to the fire place.
The old woman was sitting bundled up in furs and blankets, sipping the same soup he’d ordered. He sat down across from her and her wise brown eyes swept over him. She nodded at him. He nodded back and dug into his food.
“What yer wanting to know, witcher,” she rasped, “is all the legends ‘bout selkies.” His head snapped up, golden eyes boring into old brown ones. She smiled and tapped her nose. “I have a way of knowin’, son. Don’t worry ‘bout that.” He directed his attention back to the soup. “Now, selkies. The infamous creatures who shed their coat and become human.” Her eyes twinkled madly and Geralt wondered briefly if the woman was making fun of him. “Many generations ago, there was a human man who fell in love with a selkie woman. How I know that, witcher?,” she asked, even though Geralt had barely moved a muscle besides inhaling his soup. “Well, that stupid fool was my great-grandfather. The story goes that whenever she was away at sea, he could summon her by shedding seven tears into the sea. In the end, she came to live with him on the land. She never told anyone how she did it, but she lived and died on land and never once returned to the sea.” The woman took a sip of her soup, watching the witcher before her.
Geralt wanted to laugh and cry and run out towards the beach. He’d always known there was something different about Jaskier, but a selkie? He couldn’t believe he had missed such an important detail about Jaskier. But the time apart had made him question how well he knew his best friend. He’d never invited Jaskier to Kaer Morhen and he’d never cared enough to ask where Jaskier spent his winters. That hadn’t kept the bard from telling him, of course, but had Geralt ever listened, truly? On the mountain, Jaskier had wanted to head to the coast. Trying to tell him what? His guilt roared its’ ugly head. And the irony didn’t escape Geralt. To summon Jaskier all he had to do was cry into the sea. Once again he cursed the potions and Trials that had made him a mutant, not human. Everything that had made them human had been burned away in the Trials. Witchers couldn’t cry. The woman patted his hand and Geralt almost flinched back. He kept his body relaxed until she drew away her hand.
He thanked her and returned to his room. So it had been Jaskier after all who’d saved him on the beach. He laughed despite himself. Jaskier, a selkie. He had never trusted Geralt enough with his secret and Geralt didn’t know what to do with that knowledge. He was his friend, his best friend. And then Geralt had gone and yelled at him on the mountain, screaming all those ugly things. And Jaskier had left, as had been his right.
He probably didn’t want anything to do with him anymore. Geralt had made sure of that on top of the mountain. He shook his head. He had to try, one last time. If Jaskier still didn’t want him, he would return to the inn and head back inland. People said witchers didn’t have hearts, but Geralt knew otherwise. What else could be the painful thing beating against his ribs at the thought of losing his best friend, the man he loved.
Geralt decided to leave Roach at the stable and walked to the beach. He sat down on the sand, looking out at the waves. He fell into meditation until movement between the waves caught his eyes. The head of a seal was bobbing up and down. In a surge of desperation, he ran towards the sea, tugging his boots off, and dove into the water.
If this was Jaskier, he had to reach him and tell him everything he had left unsaid all this time. Geralt hated swimming but he pushed forward with sure strokes. Suddenly he felt a tug at his jacket and he was pulled towards the shore once again. He let his body go pliant. Maybe Jaskier finally had enough of him after all. When he felt the sand beneath his feet, the tugging stopped and Geralt staggered back to his feet. He didn’t turn around in time and only heard the splash as the selkie returned to the waves.
He felt his heart sink in his chest and sat down. He was dripping wet and the wind was cold around him. He put his head in his hands. He’d failed. Jaskier had finally had enough of him. This was as clear a sign as any to leave him be. He wished he could cry in that moment. The tightness in chest stealing his breath, it was a dark hole that seemed to suck the life out of him.
After a while, he heard footsteps and tensed. Whatever human wanted to disturb a witcher had better find another place to be very quickly.
“Geralt?”
He whipped around and barely got to his knees. Jaskier stood before him, just the way he had last seen him on the mountain. His expression was uncertain, his eyes tracking every movement.
Geralt got up and walked the last few paces to him. He dropped to his knees again, head bowed, not daring to look him in the eyes just yet.
“Jaskier, Jaskier, I’m sorry,” he said, fisting his hands at his sides, eyes fixed on the ground.
“I am so, so sorry. And I need you to know- I need you to know none of what I said on that mountain was true. I didn’t mean one word.” He looked up and found Jaskier’s blue eyes staring back at him. His lips were twisted in a wobbly smile and there were tears in his eyes.
Geralt forged on. “You are the best thing that happened to me in a long, long time.” He looked away.
“You deserve much better than my friendship. I would-“ he swallowed around the words. They felt like ash in his mouth. “I would understand if you sent me away and I understand if you hate me. I’ve spent the past year regretting what I’ve done and I hope you can forgive me one day.” Suddenly, he felt Jaskier’s fingers on his cheek, gently guiding his face to meet his gaze. He was shaking his head, but he was smiling still, the tears flowing freely.
“Oh my dear stupid witcher.”
Geralt held his breath, waiting for the rejection he knew was coming.
“You still haven’t figured it out, dear heart?” Jaskier sank to his knees. Geralt had never noticed how their eyes had always been on one level.
Jaskier took a deep breath and Geralt couldn’t help the way his eyes strayed to his lips, the way he was worrying them with his teeth. He looked up again to find Jaskier’s blue eyes watching him in fond desperation.
“I love you.”
Geralt’s world screeched to a halt around him. He knew that a witcher’s heart couldn’t stop, not really, but in that moment he was certain his heart skipped a beat only to start up again, much faster than before.
“I’ve loved you for a long time. And how could I not?” He laughed wetly. “That’s what I wanted to tell you on the mountain. And I wanted to give you this.” Jaskier reached behind himself and pressed a soft fur coat into Geralt’s hands.
“I am a selkie and this is my coat. Will you protect it for me, dear heart?”
There were too many thoughts running around in Geralt’s mind. Stroking the soft fabric , Jaskier’s coat, he could only return Jaskier’s gaze, hopeful and disbelieving at the same time. Despite everything, despite all he’d done to push him away, Jaskier still trusted him enough to protect his life, to put it in his hands again and again. Words were too much and he’d always been better at acting than talking so he surged forward to take Jaskier’s face between his hands.
“May I?”, he asked against his lips.
Jaskier nodded and then they were kissing.
Kissing Jaskier was different than he’d imagined. His face was wet from tears and his lips tasted salty like the sea. But they were soft and pliant and Geralt couldn’t contain the small growl when he felt Jaskier’s teeth graze his lips. Jaskier’s hands rose to wrap around Geralt’s nape and curled into the soft locks.
They broke away panting, Geralt’s hands on Jaskier’s face, Jaskier’s hands in Geralt’s hair.
Jaskier’s blue eyes were blown wide, his cheeks flushed a delicious pink. Geralt licked his lips and revelled in the way Jaskier’s eyes flicked down, tracking the movement.
A thought hit him with the force of a thundering wave. He still hadn’t told Jaskier how he felt. They had kissed but he wanted to be sure, wanted Jaskier to know.
“I love you too,” he rasped, nervous despite himself.
Jaskier’s face lit up and his smile nearly split his face in half with how wide it was. This time, it was him who pressed his lips to Geralt’s.
I love you. I love you I love you I love you. Now that he’d said it once, he couldn’t stop thinking it. And he didn’t have to hold back anymore.
“I love you,” he said, pressing kisses to each of Jaskier’s cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered into Jaskier’s neck, kissing the tender skin there. “I love you,” he said as he pressed a final kiss to Jaskier’s lips.
Jaskier broke away giggling and fell backwards into the sand. Geralt frowned.
“We really are fools in love, aren’t we?”, he said. He laughed some more, blue eyes shining like the sea. Geralt settled next to him on the sand.
“Essi will have a field day with this.” Jaskier chuckled.
“Essi?”
“My sister Essi, poet extraordinaire and Professor at Oxenfurt. We have to visit some time.”
Geralt stiffened at that. From the corner of his eyes, Jaskier noticed and sat up again.
“Do you want to join me in my travels again?”
Jaskier raised his brows. “Yes,” he hesitated. “Unless you don’t want that.” He looked away, expression twisted and Geralt’s heart sped up again. He hurried to add, “I would love that.”
He reached out and took Jaskier’s hands in his.
Jaskier turned back.
“Good. Because you’re not getting rid of me that easily again, dear witcher.” He smirked and twined his fingers with Geralt’s. Geralt smiled back and it was worth seeing Jaskier’s face light up. He kissed him again for good measure and simply because he could. He had made mistakes, but so had Jaskier. Geralt didn’t believe in gods or Destiny and he didn’t know what he had done to deserve Jaskier’s love and trust, but he thanked his lucky stars for it and resolved to do everything in his power to keep deserving it all.