Chapter Text
There were many times when Geralt had wondered how he’d gotten where he was in life. It was a dangerous line of thinking at times—how would his life have been different if he’d never been sent to Kaer Morhen or if he’d never killed Renfri or any one of the hundreds of mistakes he’d made in his life. Recently, however, they’d changed. Now he wondered how he’d managed to find a man who loved him unconditionally or how he’d not yet fucked up raising his child or how he’d semi-retired. As he sat in The Chameleon with Tofik on his lap, watching his daughter dance with her friends and his lover perform a particularly raucous duet, Geralt was once again thinking about how he’d stumbled into such a perfect life.
An entire year had passed in peace. Geralt’s first journey to the different coastal towns had been a huge success. Julian was right about the lack of witchers frequenting those towns; nearly all of them had a monster problem in desperate need of fixing, and the rest were relieved to know they could easily contact Geralt the next time they needed him. After that, winter had settled in. Winter in Vitrove was nothing like what he was used to at Kaer Morhen. It had only snowed twice and while the temperatures were consistently cold, it was nothing like the bone-chilling freeze he’d dealt with for most of his life. Still, the months had passed wonderfully. When it did snow, Ciri insisted they roll around in it for as long as possible. Yule was celebrated in a blur of drinks and dancing. On particularly chilly nights, Julian made tea and they all cuddled in front of the fire while swapping stories.
Spring had arrived quicker than Geralt ever thought it could. He’d left on his next expedition to take out any monsters before the last effects of hibernation wore off. When he returned, The Chameleon was busier than he’d ever seen it. He’d quickly learned that spring and summer were the most chaotic as wealthy people and merchants took the opportunity to visit Vitrove and appreciate the ocean. From there it had been a blur. Most days were spent in familiar routine—enjoying a calm morning with Julian, helping out at The Chameleon during the afternoon, and then returning home late at night exhausted. Occasionally they took the day off and simply rode down a random path, content with exploring all the little nooks they hadn’t seen yet.
All in all, things were going good for Geralt. Great even. He loved Julian more than he’d ever thought possible, and he knew Julian reciprocated in a way he’d never dared dream of. Sometimes he feared Julian would start to doubt Geralt’s feelings—it was clear there were days when Geralt’s words to him on the mountain still haunted a small part of him. Geralt wanted to prove to Julian just how important he was. And there was only one way Geralt could think of.
He was going to propose to Julian.
Witchers didn’t care about weddings. It wasn’t that they hated them, it just never seemed like an option. The idea that a person could care about a witcher past a short fling was so laughable that they’d never bothered to come up with customs of their own. Geralt didn’t think wearing a new piece of jewelry or owning a fancy certificate would change any part of their relationship, but that wasn’t really the point of this.
Julian loved weddings. For as long as Geralt could remember, he’d been unwillingly dragged to them. If there was a public wedding in town, Julian insisted on attending. If someone wanted to hire him to play at their reception, he dropped everything to do it. He’d even composed a few songs for newlyweds free of charge simply because the event had been so inspiring. Geralt wanted to give him a wedding to remember.
Luckily, Geralt wasn’t totally clueless. After spending decades traveling with Julian, he’d picked up a thing or two about the man’s opinions on receptions. Geralt had also consulted every married couple in town that he knew to see what they’d done for their special day. He had a general idea of what he wanted and what he thought Julian would like, but he still hadn’t done the hardest part: actually proposing.
Geralt needed to do this right. Julian deserved a proposal straight out of a fairy tale. Everything had to be perfect.
Before he proposed, Geralt wanted to introduce Julian to his family at Kaer Morhen. There were certainly other reasons for wanting to winter at Kaer Morhen this year; since he hadn’t shown up last year, it would be good to let the others know he hadn’t died. More than that, he missed his brothers, and he wanted them to meet Julian and Ciri. If his two families got along, everything would be just right.
So, the plan was pretty simple. Geralt just needed to broach the subject of going to Kaer Morhen to Julian without seeming too suspicious. Once they were there and everyone had gotten used to each other, Geralt could ask his brothers for advice. They would be a big help—well some of them at least. Then, all he had to do was find the most picturesque part of the mountain and give Julian a proposal to rival all others.
How hard could it be?
It was on the day the first leaf fell that Geralt brought the subject up to Julian. Autumn was upon them, and the sooner they left the better. It would take weeks to travel from the Redanian coast to the Blue Mountains, and it would only be more trouble if they had to ride through snow storms.
“Oh, Geralt, that's a wonderful idea!” Julian said as he prepared for bed. The tavern had quieted down in the past few weeks, but it was still difficult for Geralt to find time to talk to Julian during the day, so right before bed had to suffice.
“You’re sure it won’t be too difficult to leave the tavern? We’ll be gone for months,” Geralt reminded him. The enthusiasm was appreciated, but Julian did have a tendency to agree to things without thinking them through all the way.
Julian waved his hand dismissively. “It’ll be fine. The Chameleon has been operational for a few years now. I don’t need to be there every second of the day now to make sure things don’t fall apart, and I’ve got a staff that I trust. Priscilla and Zoltan should be more than enough to keep the place from burning down.” He sounded confident. Geralt reminded himself that this wasn’t the flighty bard he’d known, but a competent business owner. “Not to mention,” Julian added, “I’ve wanted to see that witcher keep of yours for so long now. And how exciting it will be to meet your family!”
“I’m sure they’ll love you,” Geralt said in an attempt to comfort himself just as much as Julian. Most of the witchers that typically wintered at Kaer Morhen were respectful of newcomers, but unfortunately Lambert was not like most witchers. Hopefully, he didn’t give them too much shit.
“Of course they will,” Julian said as he climbed into bed. “And I’m sure they’ll love Ciri even more. She’s gotten quite fierce with that sword of hers, after all.”
Ciri would probably get along wonderfully with the other witchers. She was an eager learner, and his brothers loved to teach tricks to anyone deemed worthy of it. He was sure she’d be put on the pendulum within the first two weeks.
They planned to leave a week from tomorrow. That would give Julian enough time to train Priscilla and Zoltan in their new duties and Geralt time to find the proper winter gear for his companions.
Ciri was elated to hear they would be wintering in a witcher keep. As Geralt had expected, she nearly jumped for joy when he told her about the training witchers did during winter to keep their skills sharp. He was sure she’d beg every witcher in the keep to spar against her, and Geralt knew they’d all cave to her wishes sooner or later.
Julian was even busier that last week, if such a thing were possible. Zoltan and Priscilla already knew some of the aspects of running The Chameleon, but Julian needed to prep them on the behind-the-scenes work he usually handled alone. After that, he’d introduced them to all of his suppliers and set up weekly shipments of produce to The Chameleon. Even though earlier he’d sounded confident about leaving the tavern in someone else’s hands for a few months, it was clear Julian was nervous about being away for so long. Geralt couldn’t exactly blame him. He knew how much work Julian had put into fixing up The Chameleon, and it would be a shame for that all to be undone while they were on vacation.
Geralt was also kept busy that week. Since it didn’t get nearly as cold on the Redanian coast, he had some trouble procuring the warm clothes necessary for a winter at Kaer Morhen. After a week of bartering and a trip to a different town, Geralt finally had a pile of warm wool clothes and thick cloaks. Then, he’d bought two horses for Julian and Ciri. The farmer that usually lent his horses to Geralt had agreed to sell them, so they would already be used to Julian and Ciri. When they were riding up the Killer, it would be good to have horses accustomed to their riders. The horses were all re-shod by Kethis and once she was done, she slid a box over to Geralt. The box was small enough to easily fit within the palm of his hand. The wood had a dark lacquer and intricate swirled carvings along the edges.
“Virtheld provided the box, for a small additional fee,” Kethis explained.
“It’s beautiful,” Geralt marveled as he turned it this way and that.
Kethis snorted. “It’s the thing inside that really matters.”
Geralt unlatched the delicate clasp. The box was lined with colorful fabric—a scrap Geralt had saved from one of Julian’s old doublets. There was a small divot in the center of the box that held a ring. The wedding band wasn’t the most ornate piece of jewelry Julian would own, but it was practical enough that it could be worn every day without getting in the way. The ring was a polished silver and instead of gems encrusted around it, Kethis had delicately sketched vines and buttercups.
“It’s perfect,” Geralt said once he’d safely stored the box. “Thank you.”
“That’s the Kethis guarantee,” she said with a grin. After accepting the bag of crowns from Geralt she added, “You know wedding rings usually come in pairs, right? When you finally get your ring, you know where to go.”
Geralt grabbed the horses’ reins. He said, “Let me focus on proposing first. Then we’ll talk.”
“Always a pleasure doing business with you, Geralt!”
Geralt bade her goodbye and led the horses home. Once he’d stashed the ring box in a well hidden place, he headed to The Chameleon for his night shift.
It was the last night they’d be working in The Chameleon until spring. Tomorrow, they would spend the day packing and doing all their last minute errands. Then, they’d get an early night’s sleep and leave at dawn. It wasn’t necessary to work tonight, but Julian had insisted. It seemed pretty clear that Julian wanted one last night of normalcy in the tavern, and Geralt couldn’t argue against that.
His shift passed quickly. The night was cooler than it had been the last few weeks, and it seemed only the locals were still coming to the tavern. Geralt was glad they were leaving soon; any more delays and it would be significantly harder to climb the Killer.
And that’s when everything went to shit.
The tavern was still open for another hour, but Geralt had already finished his shift, so he was sitting in his usual spot. Ciri had been watching Priscilla perform but now that the bard had finished, she was sitting with him. She had been in the middle of talking about what she was most excited for during their trip when a bright light filled the room. Geralt could sense the Chaos and instantly knew it must be a portal. Everyone else in the tavern was several cups in and very inexperienced in magic, so they started to panic. Geralt was ready to start crowd control if they became too on-edge, but thankfully everyone calmed down once the portal closed.
The person that had just emerged from the portal stood up and brushed her skirts. It took Geralt a moment to recognize her as Yennefer. When had he last seen her stumble through a portal? He hadn’t thought she was capable of such a clumsy thing.
Yennefer fixed her already perfect hair and looked around. She hid it well, but Geralt could see she wasn’t quite sure where she was. He was about to leave his dark corner to ask her what she was doing here when she locked eyes with Julian from behind the counter.
“Jaskier?” she said a little incredulously. Geralt supposed that was fair. He had barely recognized Julian when he’d first stumbled into The Chameleon.
Julian put down the bottle he was holding. With a long sigh he said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”