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Geralt would never admit it but his hands trembled slightly in anticipation.
At the time he was in a small dressing room in Oxenfurt waiting to be called on stage. Nothing in his life had prepared him for this.
This is not a scenario he ever imagined himself in, but when Jaskier, oh sweet and beloved Jaskier, begged and begged, day after day, for months, begging and crying over him all winter long at Kaer Morhen, there came a time when he could no longer deny it.
Not when he looked at him with his eyes shining in a way that would make his cheeks blush if possible, and when he finally said yes the room they were in was flooded with the smell of the bard. The smell of happiness, wild flowers in the middle of spring and sunshine. And the smile he opened seemed to be able to melt the layers of snow that huddled on the outside of the ruined castle.
Maybe it’s because he’s terribly in love with that damned troubadour but he was incapable of saying no. If Jaskier asked, he’d freeze the sun and steal the moon.
Sometimes the power that the little man in colorful clothes held over his person was frightening.
Anyway, when the winter finally passed they went on the road towards the Oxenfurt academy.
For the damn Bavarian contest.
All the time Geralt wondered if it was really worth it. Was it worth embarrassing himself in front of dozens (if not hundreds) of old philosophers, teachers, masters of the arts, bards and among many others? Was it worth throwing away years of Witcher reputation? But it took just one look at Jaskier, jumping up and down the road in joy, tired and stinking of happiness, for him to knows it’s worth it.
Now here he is.
With his improved hearing he can hear the crowd gathering in the great hall. He knew that many people would get together to attend the show, with several performances of poems, dances and songs. And that many were there because of the confirmation that Jaskier would perform, but at the time the news that the famous White Wolf would also be there, not only accompanying his companion but also to perform... Well, let’s just say that even though it’s the biggest hall in the whole school, the vast majority of people had to stand, huddled in every empty space possible, all waiting for the big performance.
The Witcher had been trying to meditate for the last 40 minutes, trying to get his heart back to normal rhythm, but every performance he heard finished was one step closer to the big moment they were supposed to enter.
Cursed be the one who caused them to be the last to present.
Jaskier, on the other hand, hummed quietly, sitting in front of a dressing table, retouched the light makeup he was wearing.
He was beautiful as a god, untouchable and pure, slightly reddish cheeks, with an outline around his eyes that only highlighted the blue abyss of his orbs. And to top it off, sinfully red lipstick painted his lips deliciously. The bard was wearing a white doublet with entrenched patterns sewn on the sides, with chic ruffles and a little exaggerated on his waist, with full shoulder pads and high collar, with equally white trousers glued to his legs and toned thighs from the years of walking alongside Roach. And to end the angelic air, well placed on his back were two beautiful white wings.
The most beautiful being he’s ever seen.
Geralt’s outfit was a little different. With a dark emerald green blouse with a flowery pattern, nicely buttoned and covered with a simple white coat, matching the other’s clothes. Around his neck was a long scarf of the same green as his T-shirt that, for anyone else, it would drag on the floor if he wasn’t so tall.
The peace on the dressing room was broken open when a tall, slender woman holding a small clipboard opened the door wide open.
"You’re on in five minutes, get ready." She says, closing the door and leaving right after the warning.
For years he repeated the saying that Witchers have no feelings, but look at him now, sweating cold with his jaw closed so tight that he can swear his teeth are cracking. Anyone who looked would say that this was a man on his way to his own execution.
"It’ll be all right, love," the soft, melodious voice wraps him in a warm embrace.
Jaskier is already ready, holding his lute in one hand and a white hat in the other. He approaches his lover, standing on tiptoe, and gives a small chaste kiss on the Witcher’s forehead, taking advantage of the distraction to accommodate the hat on the head of snow-white hair.
With a naughty laugh he walks away, calling the other with a brief nod.
Geralt takes a deep breath one, two, three times. Walking slowly backstage.
From there he has a good view of the crowded room, the whispers of parallel conversation increasing. Somehow his eyes are pulled to the familiar figures sitting down further down the stage.
Three well-known muscular shapes sit uncomfortable on the small chairs that were not meant to house the Witcher profile. Vasemir notices his gaze, staring at him and nodding lightly with a look of pride. Lambert next to him also notes, poking Eskel with his elbow and smiling in a scathing way, laughing at his situation. Eskel, being the older brother he always was, only laughs lightly, smiling happy.
Next to the three are two very powerful women, sitting like queens on their thrones, dressed like royalty, standing out in the crowd. Yennefer and Triss do not realize it, too involved in the conversation of their surprise little child. Ciri jumped on her seat, her blond hair like a real mess, even with the noticeable attempt to tidy up in a behaved way.
Geralt allows himself to calm down a little with the image of his family there (of course Jaskier would invite them to do so, and of course Yennefer would make sure to arrange the best seats in the whole amphitheatre.) Looking a little further into the crowd, he is startled to notice several other familiar faces. From friends he made on the way, not humans he helped in his missions, warriors and companions, as well as some other witches here and there (was that Letho of Gulet? The fucking Viper?).
His hands are shaking again.
Finally the man who was performing finished his recital, a ound of applause resounded.
It was time.
Jaskier enters the scene, a bright smile on his face and alaude on his hands, putting himself into position. From the moment Geralt said yes to that stupid performance they’ve been training for this moment. In the empty rooms of Kaer Morhen, in the rooms of the inns, in the middle of the forest, in the makeshift camps. Each movement was engraved in his mind like stone sculptures.
With a final sigh Geralt enters the stage, his eyes never leaving the mesmerizing blues of Jaskier.
'Do this for him. ' He repeated it in his mind.
Silence was deadly. Some people held their breath in anticipation. It’s not often that you see the big, scary Geralt of Rivia, the Blaviken butcher, the white wolf, side by side with his colorful lover in a singing-ready bard competition.
The first chords are strumming, in a lively and danceable way. Naturally and fluidly Jaskier begins to walk the stage, carelessly.
"He’s resplendent, so confident" he begins.
"My Witcher, My Witcher, My Witcher" the two of them sing together.
"I realize, I’m hypnotized"
"My Witcher, My Witcher, My Witcher"
Geralt is still standing stoically in the center of the stage, being surrounded by the other. Jaskier sees his nervousness and approaches with a warm smile.
"I hear the moon Singing a Tune"
The two look at each other. Geralt could almost hear the bard’s voice saying 'sing for me, and only for me. '
"My Witcher, My Witcher, My Witcher"
"Is he divine, Is it the Wine"
He hears laughter in the crowd.
"My Witcher, My Witcher, My Witcher"
Jaskier dances and shuffles, the wizard realizes that he is trying to calm him down and it works. Geralt leaves his stationary state, orbiting Jaskier like the moon orbiting the Earth in a natural and automatic dance.
"I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t Ask me Why
That’s how we are, my Witcher and I
I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t Ask me Why
That’s how we are, my Witcher and I"
Their voices sing in harmony.
A warm wave spreads through his body, warm and welcoming, familiar and happy. Geralt no longer cares about the hundreds of eyes that stare at him, he just focuses on his beloved, chasing him around the stage.
His body gets rid of any nervousness, allowing itself to smile widely. Jaskier drops the lute, letting the band in the far corner continue with the music.
His eyes meet once more and Geralt sings. To no one in that room, only to Jaskier.
"I Feel Alive when I’m beside"
"My Witcher, My Witcher, My Witcher" Jaskier completes it.
"From this Angle like an Angel"
"My Witcher, My Witcher, My Witcher"
The two meet, holding their hands, their feet dance in a lively waltz.
"I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t Ask me Why
That’s how we are, my Witcher and I
I don’t know, don’t know, so don’t Ask me Why
That’s how we are, my Witcher and I"
As part of the setting there is a small wooden bridge. Jaskier climbs into it with little jumps and Geralt follows him as a lover running after his beloved.
"Upon the bridge" the bard smiles.
"My Heart does beat" trying to reach him theatrically.
"Between the Waves" Jaskier leans on the edge of the bridge as if looking down at the water.
"We will be saved" Geralt circular his hands around his waist, pulling him closer just to be away in a dance step.
"The air we Breathe" The singer descends from the bridge, returning to the center of the stage.
"Can you Believe?" Geralt follows him.
"Learn to Forgive upon the bridge" the two voices come together in a choir, the audience watching in a trance.
At the end of the song, the audience claps in the rhythms of the song, many are standing up dancing in the best way possible in the crowd. The two on stage are too busy to notice but Ciri jumps into the same place in joy, pulling the two wizards into an improvised dance, the three Witchers tapping their feet to the ground along with the beat of the song, Lambert even ventures to sing along the chorus causing some laughs among the others.
"That’s how we are, my Witcher and I
That’s how we are, my Witcher and I
That’s how we are, my Witcher and I
That’s how we are, my Witcher and I"
They repeat along with everyone inside the amphitheater. The couple holds hands, Jaskier dancing much more flexibly than the other but that didn’t matter.
The song is over but the band still plays, the mood is light and happy and everything seemed to go by very fast, screaming in the audience asking them to repeat.
The two look at each other, big smiles on their face and slightly panting breath.
"What do you think my Witcher?" Jaskier asks.
Geralt smiles there wider, pulling the other to a passionate kiss.
"I will sing with you until the end of time, my angel."
And with the music begins again.
Geralt has never been happier.