The Witcher and The Princess: Sparks
Geralt of Rivia is not a babysitter, he is not a bodyguard, and he has no interest in transporting princesses across the continent. Until gold is offered and for the next 90 days he’s saddled with a chirpy, bubbly, princess, who is betrothed to the prince of Narok and has a desire to see everything before she’s trapped behind another set of walls.
Warnings: angst, a taste of smut, drinking
Geralt watched as she limped down the stairs, the first smile he had seen in days worn so comfortably it was a shame it had taken him so long to see it. She sat across from him without ordering breakfast.
“Sore?” he asked, and she shook her head, lying with ease.
“Where’s Jaskier? I want to thank him for his hospitality.”
“He left this morning, a party to attend I believe.”
“I think we should leave today too,” she announced, “There’s another town a few miles down the road. It’s on the coast and I have a good friend from back home who lives there.” She looked so hopeful that he found it difficult to even consider saying no.
“Okay,” he answered, and she practically leapt across the table to throw her arms around him. With soft lips, she planted a kiss on his cheek, dousing him in appreciation. She flew up the stairs, the limp almost nonexistent when she didn’t even give her feet time to touch the floor.
When she returned to his side, she wore a dress of pink cotton and the corset that made him imagine her in ways that even the innocence of pink cotton could not dissuade. She was glowing as she led the way out, beginning the walk towards the town limits with a skip in her step.
“Would you like to ride with me?” he asked before he knew what he was saying, and quickly tried to cover up the attempt for closeness with logic, “Because we left your horse behind.”
“As long as Roach doesn’t mind, she had a rough day yesterday too.” As Y/N brushed her hand down Roach’s muzzle, Geralt felt his insides grow warm, unable to bury his affection when someone showed his horse as much care as he did.
“She’ll be okay, and the faster we make it there, the faster she can rest.” That earned him another grin before she reached out a hand. It was a struggle to get his own hand to move, his mind trying to process the consequences of pulling her onto his horse.
Situating her behind him would press all the softest parts of her against him. Her hands would wrap around his torso, tightening with every jostle until he would be able to focus on nothing but the feeling of her body encompassing his.
Though he was sure placing her in front would be so much worse. She would reside directly beneath him. Her hair would brush against his nose, filling his senses with the intoxicating smell of roses and sugar. Every time he looked down her hemline would pose no longer protect him from the sight of soft flesh. He would have his arms wrapped around her, and when she inevitably relaxed against him it would be no different than cradling her within his bed chambers. And worst of all, she would in between his legs, jostling against him with every movement. And when he found himself unable to control certain animalistic tendencies there would be no hiding it.
She was to sit behind him, for both of their sakes.
He was right of course, about the challenges of her sitting behind him. Her arms wrapped around him and she leaned in close, still bouncing with the excitement of seeing her friend. He could feel every inch of her, but what he didn’t account for was the feeling of being between her legs. Sitting there, feeling them tighten against his hips took his mind to place that he did not dare to venture. He struggled to force the thoughts out of his mind, it was the incessant imagination that made him lash out at her. The frustration that he was unable to act on the vulgar images his mind conjured had caused all their problems previously and he was determined not to let it happen again. It was not her fault everything she did made his stomach do flips. It was not her fault that every time she spoke he could focus on nothing but her lips and the way they would feel wrapped around him. And it was definitely not her fault that he wanted to drag her from his horse and fuck her against the nearest tree until she was raw and limping for the rest of their journey. So, he did his best not to think of the princess riding behind him at all.
The town was not far, and just as she said the ocean crashed against the edge of the town in a way only poets could dream of. The moment they entered the town, she slid from his horse and he let out a mental sigh of relief. He watched as she ran down the street, slipping through merchants going about their daily business. She turned a corner and disappeared from sight, tugging him out of his catatonic state. Urging Roach forward he followed her and was greeted by the sight of her flinging herself into the arms of a young silversmith. She thew her arms around his neck and pulled him tight, laughing with glee as he did the same. He drew closer and he could hear their happy reunion.
“I’m travelling to Narok, and I begged my escort to stop here. I couldn’t stand the way we parted being the last time we saw each other.”
“Marriage,” she replied darkly, and then shook her head, “But that is the last thing I want to discuss. Come, meet my Witcher.” At the sound of his title, the silversmith’s eyes darted to him and the widened.
“Your escort is a Witcher? Why not your guards? Is he truly capable of protecting you?”
“Of course, he is!” she defended, slapping a playful hand against his chest. “I appreciate your concern, Adam, but he has gotten me this far without incident. I will not have you question his abilities, especially in my presence,” she defended, catching Geralt’s eye as she did so.
“Of course, I just want you to be safe.”
“I know, and that is why I wish to keep you around during our stay in your city. I wish to see everything before we are forced to continue our journey.”
“I would love nothing more than to be your guide,” Adam responded, and she jumped with glee before turning to Geralt with wide and pleading eyes. The plea was clear. ‘Let me experience the world without a shadow’ it screamed, and he nodded, warning her that for her safety it was best if she was back by dusk. She nodded and took Adam’s outstretched arm, allowing him to lead her away from the Witcher.
True to her word she returned as the sun was setting. She smelled of salt and fire when she did so, and explained that there had been a bonfire on the beach when he asked about the lingering smell of smoke. He gave her a brief once over, checking for any wounds as he tried to appear as apathetic as possible. When he was satisfied that she was safe he gave a silent nod. She grinned and kissed him on the cheek once more before allowing Adam to drag her to the center of the pub where people were dancing to the tune of a mandolin.
He had succeeded in appearing apathetic, but he was anything but. Worry had etched itself across his forehead every moment she was gone and as she reappeared, he had wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms. And now, as she danced with Adam anger was bubbling within him, waiting for the chance to pull the young silversmith limb from limb. His hands were all over her as they danced. They lingered at her hips and bunched the fabric of her skirt. As she twirled around Geralt knew the look Adam was sending her way. Longing for once was and a lusting for what rested in his hands now. She was laughing all while he did so, catching his hand and allowing him to spin her across the makeshift dance floor. Her fingers brushed away stray pieces of hair, lingering on his cheek and tracing his neck with remembrance of the past. The clear past between the two grew only more obvious when a slow tune came on and they held one another close with aching familiarity.
Geralt downed more liquor than he had in months as he watched them, until he could take no more and left to their room, hoping that sleep would ease the aggression coursing through his veins and the tightness in his pants. He laid in the dark, unable to sleep for half an hour when the door creaked open. A ray of light struck his face and he watched Y/N slip inside as quietly as she could. She was still panting from the dancing, chest heaving in the golden light of her candle.
“Geralt?” she whispered, and he grunted in response, “Are you alright?” He grunted again. She was always asking if he was okay, as if she had nothing to do with the agony he was forced to endure day in and day out. “Are you ill? I can call for a healer.”
“I’m fine.” She set the candle down and approached him, kneeling beside the bed.
“How do you know Adam?” he asked, swiftly throwing the attention from himself.
“He used to work in the palace.”
“And what was your relation?” Geralt was sitting up now, looking down at the sight of her resting on her knees between his legs. He fought to rid the idea from his mind, but it seemed to have dug its claws in.
“I don’t quite understand what you mean,” she whispered, and he growled, pulling her to her feet and pushing her against the wall. She didn’t struggle as he had expected her to but looked at him with apt fascination.
“I mean how did you interact. How often did you sneak from your bed to meet him in the dark of night? How often did the innocent princess wed to another allow temptation to guide her? And what exactly did temptation bring?” he growled, and she froze, revealing that he was correct in his assumption.
“I- I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered and he smirked, trapping her between his body and the wall as ale began to make decisions for him.
“Well, I know he didn’t truly ravish you based on the way his eyes were imagining it tonight, so I ask again. What did you allow the lowly silversmith do to you?” She struggled at his insult of the silversmith, but he held her far too tightly. “Did you let him kiss you?” he asked, leaning in until their lips were mere centimeters apart. When she did not answer he tutted softly. “Come on Princess, I need an answer.” She nodded, eyes wide and lips parted. “Where?” Silence again, but this time he took a different route in pulling the answers from her. He pressed his lips to hers with rough admiration and pulled away. She gasped at the removal of contact and he pressed his lips against her throat, sucking gently at the soft skin. “Did he kiss you here?” she nodded, and he moved to her shoulder, kissing her again. “Here?” She nodded once more, and he moved his lips to where the slopes of her breast began. “What about here?” She shook her head and he pulled away, surveying her as a predator does their pray. “What else did you let him do?”
“Nothing,” she replied, and he shook his in disappointment.
“No need to lie, Princess. Nothing bad will come from a little honestly, especially when you are so very wound up. So, tell me, what did he do to you?” She remained silent and gasped when he pulled her onto his lap, bunching her skirt at her hips and running his hands along her thighs. She was so soft beneath him, her hips rocking forward ever so slightly even as he did nothing but touch the outside of her thighs. He slipped a hand beneath her dress and cupped her center. She let out a soft moan, hands finding his hair as she rocked forward with more need. She was velvety in his hand, her core so wet it seemed it was melting at his very touch. Her breathing turned into needy whimpers, struggling to feel more friction between her core and his hand, but he was not done interrogating her. “If you don’t want to tell me what he did, tell me instead why he was sent away.”
“Someone caught us,” she moaned, still caught in the high of his pleasure, and he froze, hands clenching against her flesh. She yelped and tried to pull her away, her core pulsing against him in protest, but he did not relent.
“And what were you doing when they caught you?” All of the sudden a smirk appeared on her face, any fear she had before dissipating in an instant, and she grabbed onto his shoulders pulling herself forward. She pressed against him and leaned in to whisper in his ear.
“We were in an empty hall. And he had me pressed to wall, my legs wrapped around his waist,” she said and he growled, hoisting her into the position she had described. Her legs tightened around him and she pressed kisses against his neck. “And I was moaning so loud it was a wonder someone hadn’t caught us sooner. If they hadn’t caught us, I would have let him take me in that very hall.” Geralt growled and pressed his lips to hers. He was hard against her, straining against his pants as she rubbed against him. “But they sent him away and I was forced to endure hours of lecture, about the sanctity of remaining pure for one’s husband,” she whispered, grinding against him as she pressed kisses against his chest, but at the moment she mentioned ‘husband’ Geralt froze. What the hell was he doing? She was to be wed and he had her wrapped around him like a common minx.
He was supposed to keep her safe, but defiling her would do anything but, so with great effort he pulled away, unwrapping her from his body. And pulling away.
“What just happened?” she asked through pants of frustration.
“Your husband,” he growled, and she had the audacity to look bewildered. “I will not take you away from your husband. I apologize and assure you it will not happen again.” She looked like she wanted to scream, or worse cry, but she only nodded and stepped away from him, smoothing down her dress.
“Yes, my husband. I hope this will not make things uncomfortable.”
“It will not,” he assured her, and she nodded with an unexplained sadness and retired to her bed, allowing Geralt to do the same, and revel in the frustration he had created for himself.
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