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Dandelion celebrated many holidays. He celebrated a harvest holiday he picked up from Brugge. He celebrated a wine festival held in Toussaint. Northern Kaedwen had particular winter traditions that Dandelion adopted into his own winter solstice celebrations. An annual water sports and athletics tournament held along the coasts of Cintras held his attention in the summer, placing bets for certain individuals and undoubtedly performing through the competitions. Dandelion loved to have something to celebrate, a festivity to attend, a tradition to hold.
Geralt was rather the opposite. With his life being consumed by his travels and work and witcher status, he only celebrated holidays and the like when invited in to do so, or reminded that they were upcoming. In the winter, when he returned to Kaer Morhen to be with Eskel and Lambert and all the others, they held something of a celebration then, which Dandelion had insisted counted as a winter solstice festivity in a way, and Geralt hadn’t argued.
Once they began travelling together, Geralt was hard pressed to manage to forget a holiday.
They couldn’t always make it to the location of each holiday’s big celebrations, it simply wasn’t feasible with the life Geralt led, but Dandelion always found his ways to participate anyway. He made sure to procure them a nice bottle of wine to have amongst themselves when they couldn’t be in Toussaint for the wine festival. He’d write letters to his friends in Brugge in advance, directing them to burn the letters in the large bonfire they’d always light up, so he could ‘contribute to the light and fiery life of the party.’ He demanded updates from whoever and wherever he could on the Cintras Water Tournament, tutting away in disappointment if his winning picks failed to get first, or cheering exuberantly if they pulled through. More than once, Dandelion had suggested Geralt compete, and each time Geralt turned it down. If he were going to participate in some tournament, it’d be for swordsmanship, not impersonating a fish.
Dandelion seemed to hold a particular affection for a spring holiday popular in Cidaris, Kerack, and parts of Temeria.
Geralt hadn’t even known of the holiday's existence before Dandelion had handed over a heart shaped, chocolate coated sweet bun. Geralt, of course, had not failed to notice the heart adorning shop windows and flowers and perfumes and sweets abound in the quaint little town they had stopped in. He’d assumed it was simply a unique trait of the town, much like the fish-crazed village he’d stumbled across outside of Agar that he promptly never returned to. But Dandelion’s words partially cleared up what it was all about.
“Happy All-Lovers’ Day,” he beamed. “Ah, can’t you just smell the love and lust and life in the air?” He asked dreamily.
“Smells like sugar, perfume, and sweat,” Geralt countered with a contrarian smirk, and Dandelion tutted, swatting his arm as he took a bite of the sweet bun. “Is this a love confession, then?” Geralt questioned of the sweet bun. Dandelion only laughed, and took a bite of his own. Dandelion performed only songs of love and lust and playful affairs that night at the inn, and spent the night in the arms of a beautiful woman who caught his eye thereafter.
All-Lover’s Day did not come back up until their second year travelling together, when Dandelion received a letter; a request to perform at a holiday celebration upcoming near Dunblane. Dandelion had insisted on buying an entirely new outfit for the occasion, gussying up in a way Geralt had rarely seen him do in such fervour. Dandelion had, of course, managed to get Geralt to accompany him, and only when they arrived did Geralt remember the sort of celebration that was to be held.
Couples danced all about, wine and sweets and decadent food flowing freely, as Dandelion played songs about courtship and relationships and companionship. More than a couple individuals had lipstick stains on their cheeks, on their collars.
Geralt was asked by a woman if he was here alone, and Geralt wasn’t certain how to reply. He wasn’t, not technically, but that wasn’t the implication in her question. Geralt ended up not having to reply, as Dandelion skipped over at that moment, flushed from his performance and bright eyed from the energy of the party. He settled himself into Geralt’s side, talking rapidly and animatedly, and the woman turned away to find her next target of attention. Dandelion didn’t leave his side for the remainder of the night, and Geralt found that he didn’t mind that at all, even as Dandelion convinced him to dance, just once.
Another year past, and Dandelion was presenting him with a bouquet of wildflowers, all pink and yellow and blue, fresh vibrant spring blooms wrapped neatly and presented after they had settled down to camp amongst the trees for the night.
“What is this?” Geralt questioned, and Dandelion replied that it was a bouquet. Geralt rolled his eyes at the sassy reply. “Yes, I can see that. What are you giving it to me for?” He questioned more clearly, turning the bouquet in his hands and looking over the flowers therein. Cornflowers, pink allium, dandelions, bergamot…
“It’s All-Lover’s Day,” Dandelion said, as if that explained everything. “While you were fetching us dinner, I saw a lovely few patches of flowers and thought to myself, how beautiful to be wasted on not being presented on this holiday meant to celebrate beauty and love?” He waxed. “And, I’m not sure if you noticed, my dear witcher, but this is not simply a bouquet, but if you look, these blooms are all ones that can be used for teas or your potions or salves… I know you don’t like to be burdened with unnecessary frills and baubles, but for today this can be a beautiful bouquet, and tomorrow, a resource, see?”
Geralt had noticed that they could be used in potions, but he hadn’t expected it to have been intentionally made so. And something about the gesture, and the way Dandelion beamed at him expectantly, eyes wide and sincere, made his heart ache. He carefully plucked out one of the cornflowers, which made Dandelion begin to complain about Geralt ruining the bouquet, but he quickly shut up as Geralt leaned in and placed the flower behind his ear, tucking his hair along the stem to hold it in place. It matched his eyes.
“How lovely,” Geralt said quietly, only halfway in reference to the bouquet, and Dandelion, pink-cheeked, cast his eyes back to the campfire, pointing out that dinner was ready.
An empty jar made itself useful as a vase for the evening.
Dandelion had once asked him what his favourite holiday was, and Geralt had replied that he didn’t have a favourite. He imagined he’d had a different answer now, was Dandelion to ask the same question again.
Geralt didn’t forget when All-Lover’s Day was coming up the next year, only in part thanks to something that he had been working on for a long time leading up to it. Countless hidden letters written back and forth between himself and Essi, and a couple visits to see Priscilla without Dandelion’s knowledge, and practising to have, if only for the one occasion, a skill he otherwise did not have led up to a day in which Dandelion and Geralt were sat by a beautiful lake, relaxing in the sunshine as they had taken a break from travelling to rest and eat.
“It’s All-Lover’s Day,” Geralt mentioned, faux off-handed.
“Mhm,” Dandelion replied, stretching in the plush grass. “And a beautiful day for it, too.”
“I, well, I have something for you, for the occasion.” Geralt cleared his throat. Dandelion, in turn, sat up in the grass, eyes blazing with curiosity. “It’s something you’ve been asking of me for a long while. That I always say no to.”
“You hold me in suspense, my dear!” Dandelion half joked, half berated, leaning in eagerly.
“Fine, fine,” Geralt gave in. “But I’ll accept no critique from you for it. This isn’t my careerpath, of the two of us.” And before Dandelion processed what he meant by that, Geralt began to sing. It was quiet and low, admittedly hesitant as he made sure to sing the notes properly as Priscilla haad taught him, but it was singing, something Dandelion had always wanted to hear from him and something Geralt never really did.
Wildflowers didn’t matter much to me
Before I met you
But now I see them everywhere
And I think of you
Cornflower blue like eyes that light up
When they meet mine
Cheeks pink as peonies when you’re
Drunk on Toussiant wine
Dandelions dotting this sombre earth
To brighten a dreary road
Dandelions trailing after me
To lighten a heavy load
Wildflowers didn’t matter much to me
Before I met you
But now I see them everywhere
And I think of you
Geranium, lavender, and sage
Rosemary perfume
Even as you leave, they linger
The scent of you
As globe flowers begin to bloom
I know we’ll meet shortly
Forget-me-nots, a name for which
You never need worry
Dandelions dotting this sombre earth
To brighten a dreary road
Dandelions trailing after me
To lighten my heavy load
Wildflowers didn’t matter much to me
Before I met you
But now I see them everywhere
And I think of you
He stuttered or hitched a note more than once, but when he finished and darted a look over to Dandelion, who’s eyes he’d had trouble meeting through the whole thing, Dandelion was crying, huge wet tears that he swiped away faster than they could make it down his cheeks.
“You- did you write that for me?” Dandelion managed to get out.
And that was a complicated question. Technically, he had sent letters to Essi explaining more or less what he wanted to say, and then Essi had returned letters with suggested lines, and they went back and forth like that until the process was finalised. “I had quite a bit of help,” Geralt settled on, and suddenly found himself with an armful of bard.
“I fear I’ll have to retire,” Dandelion said into Geralt’s hair, “for the most beautiful song I’ll ever hear has already been sung.”
“Well, now you’re just being ridiculous,” Geralt replied, and when they kissed, Geralt almost considered singing a song about that, too. But Dandelion would undoubtedly get to it first, so instead he settled on just doing it again.