Chapter Text
Geralt’s walking through the halls of the keep when he nearly steps on a doll. More precisely, a doll Jaskier was gifted by Triss not but a fortnight ago.
Furrowing his brow and humming disapprovingly, Geralt picks it up from the ground and dusts the dirt from its cloth face. He supposes Triss found it amusing to make it look like him, golden button eyes and white yarn for hair. He rolls his eyes and goes back to his task, keeping the doll under his arm.
He finds Jaskier in one of the east-facing rooms, the sun shining into the open window he’s sitting at. His back is to Geralt, his clothes (“A play doublet,” Yennefer had said after having to magically repair a fifth outfit after Jaskier had destroyed it in some way. Jaskier had taken it reverently before hugging her tightly, to which Yennefer gave an awkward pat to his back, though Geralt could tell she was happy.) a bright blue.
“Jaskier, are you not supposed to find me when you drop?” Geralt asks, amused as Jaskier startles and turns towards him. He’s got something small in his hand that he had been dragging along the window ledge.
“Oh,” Jaskier says, his free hand dragging his fingers along his bottom lip. “You were training.”
Geralt huffs a fond sigh and makes his way over, running his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. Jaskier leans into the touch. “That’s a poor excuse and you know it,” Geralt says, softening the admonishment with a kiss to Jaskier’s forehead. “What is it that you’ve got?”
Jaskier brightens, holding out his hand proudly. I’m his palm sits a medium-sized stone, speckled with reds and oranges and sparkling in the sunlight. “Look!”
“A rock?” Geralt asks bemusedly, taking a seat beside Jaskier.
Jaskier huffs, pulling his hand back and up to his face, rolling his treasure between his fingers. “It’s a pebble, Daddy. I found it with Ciri at the lake this morning!” Jaskier goes back to rolling it back and forth on the ledge, eyeing it as though it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever encountered.
“Why play with a pebble when you’ve perfectly reasonable toys made for you?” Geralt asks, holding up the doll so Jaskier can see. “I don’t appreciate being left on the ground.”
Jaskier has the decency to blush and takes the doll from his hand, pushing its hair away from its face. “Sorry, Daddy. I got excited.” Geralt watches enamored as Jaskier goes to make the dolls hands (or really the nubs with the vague shapes of thumbs to their sides) hold the pebble between them.
“Ah, of course. I’m not mad, but I don’t think Triss would appreciate it if she saw her hard work left in the corridor.”
Jaskier nods and sets the doll to sit next to him. He then starts rolling the pebble between his fingers again.
Geralt smiles and stands, holding out his hand. “You know,” he starts, “I’ve been to that lake many times and have seen many colored rocks. Perhaps we can find the whole rainbow.”
Jaskier looks up at him and gasps, jumping up and putting the pebble in his pocket, grabbing the doll.
“Ah, let’s leave me here,” Geralt says, knowing there will be many tears should it be dropped in mud (and it will be dropped in mud if it’s brought along).
Jaskier giggles and sets the doll up in the chair he was in, taking Geralt’s hand and squeezing his arm in a tight hug.
Geralt kisses his hair and leads him out, already thinking of where the green pebbles lie on the lake’s bank.