#dryad jaskier

[bardcore-jaskier]

♡My immortal Jaskier headcanons♡

So here are my headcanons, because I refuse to believe that our ball of sunshine has an expiration date...

So, I know Lauren said that Jaskier not aging in the show was just a filming mistake, something they simply forgot to do and on a completely logical level I am fully aware that in canon Jaskier is completely human, 100%. And I also know that they're not gonna change it, no matter how much some of us may wish they did (Although why not? They already strayed so far from the books and made so many changes, might as well go the extra mile)

Realistic-ish headcanons:

- Jaskier is part elf, perhaps quarter elf like Yennefer, it is an entirely justifiable headcanon, theoretically, Jaskier's human father could have married a half elf commoner woman (who may or may not have had the pointy tips on her ears cut off with a knife to avoid human prejudice)

- Jaskier has a fae ancestor, somewhere many many generations back in his ancestry, so his entire family is suspiciously long lived but nobody cares because Lettenhove isn't politically important and therefore doesn't catch the attention of the prejudiced Nobles farther up the royal court chain.

- Jaskier unintentionally drinks the same elixir mages/sorcerers drink to prolong their life. I read that chaos wielders don't have naturally long lifespans, they semi-regularly drink an elixir with mandrake roots in it to slow the aging process. According to Witcher Wiki, you can only buy mandrake root in Lindenvale and my headcanon is that Jaskier experiments with many different tea blends to see which one is more effective for soothing his throat after singing. So at the age of 29-30, he wanders into Lindenvale and buys some dried mandrake to make a tea, after one sip he felt more rejuvenated than ever and since that day, mandrake root tea has become his number one go-to, he drinks it as often as he can.

More fanfic centric, less canon possible headcanons:

- Jaskier is a Dryad. (Yayyy trans Jaskier headcanon) Since Lettenhove is so tiny, it isn't even on the Witcher continent map, but a simple Google search says that it is Located somewhere in Kerack. Kerack borders with Brokilon, so it's kind of a nifty little loophole for fanfic writers to use and place Lettenhove somewhere near the forests where Dryads live.

And while most Dryads treat any man that enters their realm as a mere sperm donor, Witcher Wiki does also mention that some Dryads can form emotional relationships and fall in love with humans and/or elves, but in the end, all Dryad born offspring is AFAB. So imagine this, Jaskier's father falls in love with a Dryad, she falls in love with him, they have Jaskier, Jaskier notices early on that he feels like a boy and his rich Viscount father hires a mage to help Jaskier transition early.

- Jaskier is a higher vampire, higher vampires are a HIGHLY secretive society, even in canon, part of the reason why even Witchers have so little information about them is because they prefer to hide in plain sight and are ridiculously good at it. Jaskier doesn't age, has no self-preservation instincts, doesn't buy a horse and yet still keeps up with Geralt on foot for 20 years. Jaskier's personality isn't fake, he doesn't act like someone else, it's all him, but his clumsiness is a little bit of an act, he also purposefully avoids physical fights, it comes across as fear of getting hurt but in reality it's because he's afraid of appearing too strong and exposing himself. Lettenhove doesn't appear on maps, because it doesn't exist legally, it's just a castle hidden in the woods, a safe place for higher vampires, kinda like Kaer Morhen is for Witchers, Jaskier's parents just happen to be the ones who run it.

[thedemonofcat]

An Au: In terms of human standards, Jaskier is regarded as very odd by the general public. It is, therefore, because of this that he is often misunderstood at times to be some non-human. People have put a contract out on him. It has been suggested that he is,

An Elf

A Siren

A Fae

A Succubus

A Dryad (Despite them being all female)

one time even a dragon

Among the witchers, it is now a competition to see who will have a run-in with Geralt's weird Bard friend every year

[echo-bleu]

A dryad!Jaskier for or the Witcher Trick or Treat event! Prompt: Fall.

[ID: Digital portrait of Jaskier, seen from the side, on a reddish brown gradient background. He has pointed ears and an assortment of orange-toned leaves and ferns in his hair.]

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Kiss from a Rose

1) w h y

2) okay here we go

---

“My Mother was a rose dryad and my father was a very brave man.”

Jaskier is half-rosebush, half-human. He can grow flowers at will, he can communicate with the Sylvans and the Fae. He is a child of nature.

Geralt is the Unseelie Prince. 

He knows only war and winter and his heart is made of ice (or so the legends say). There is nothing soft or kind about Geralt, Prince of the Winter Court. 

During a sparring match with his brothers, Geralt accidentally unleashes a flurry of snow into the human realm. It takes Jaskier by surprise, burying him and giving him a rather nasty case of hypothermia (which turns into a very bad cold when he thaws).

Geralt takes care of him out of guilt.

They don’t really get along at first but Jaskier is bubbly as fuck and grows little flowers for Eskel’s accursed immortal pet goat to eat (or wear). He melts the snow in his footsteps and replaces it with flowers.

Romance Occurs

Smooching, sexual tension.

Maybe some miscommunication and fear of rejection?

Then Geralt does a great big PDA for Jaskier and they make up and get married in a very elaborate, over-described ceremony with lots of lace and flowers and kisses and snow-flurries when Geralt gets too excited about his adorable new husband.

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Dryad Jaskier has been unleashed, ladies and gentlemen (I’m sorry).

Read Ensnared on AO3 to find out more.

“It’s a pest is what it is,” the hunter spits across the table, and Geralt moves his hand away to avoid the splatter of saliva. “All our traps, any wagon train that goes through. It destroys the lot. Some of the men get away, others don’t. Always seems to know when we’re comin’ too. It’s destroying the trade.”

“How long has this been going on?” Geralt asks quietly. His voice barely audible above the lute and tenor of the bard in the far corner. He sits perfectly still. Almost unnaturally so. His shoulders squared, his back straight. The others in the tavern regard him with trepidation, and the sickly scent of their fear is crowding his nostrils and making him feel sick.

“Best part of a year, witcher. Your kind don’t pass through here very much anymore.”

“Not a lot of us left,” Geralt says as his gaze wanders towards the door. “Fifty crowns upon completion of the contract. You say the survivors report a male humanoid shape with green skin, pointed ears, interacts with wildlife and nature. It sounds like a dryad, but it can’t be.”

“Why not?” The hunter eyes the witcher with distrust. Didn’t even bother to disguise it. With his white hair and yellow eyes, his unkempt armour and his aloof demeanour, Geralt cut an untrustworthy figure. A monster hiding beneath a frail veneer of humanity. Incapable of empathy - of any emotion - a witcher is about as untrustworthy, and as feral, as the monsters they hunt.

“Dryads are exclusively female,” Geralt sighs heavily through his nose, one eyebrow raised. “Do we have a deal?” Belhaven is a shithole of a town. Their main export is iron ore to Mag Turga further south, but they still need access to the northern kingdoms for other wares. Their dryad - although it definitely isn’t a dryad - problem is destroying the little infrastructure they have.

[thedemonofcat]

There has only been one known male Dryad, Jaskier. However, this isn't because he is some kind of miracle. Jaskier is a male Dryad because he's trans

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

Can I just say, I love Thomas the Rhymer! It's one of my favourite fics. I didn't realise you wrote it too! If you don't mind taking another prompt from me, then maybe Aine meets Vesemir/the other Wolves? And of course, I hope you have a good birthday! May you always be happy and healthy

“So you’re telling me,” Lambert continued, eyes narrowed suspiciously at his elder brother, “That your bard was working for the Queen of the Faeries the whole time?”

“Correct.”

“And this is her?”

“Yes.”

“My Lady,” Eskel bowed respectfully. She waved her hand at him.

“I’ve had quite enough of the bowing and the kneeling from you Witchers,” she rolled her eyes affectionately towards Geralt. “You horribly formal brutes.”

“Never heard us described that way before,” Vesemir smiled. “Thank you for the unusual compliment, Your Highness.”

“Really, my dear Wolves, Aine is just fine.”

“And you made Jaskier into a dryad?” Vesemir asked.

“Aye, in return for his services as musician and party host.”

“It was great fun,” the bard beamed from his place beside the Queen. “I do miss those parties. Midsummer was always wonderful.”

“You’re all welcome back again this year. I’d love to have you perform again. Perhaps your darling husband can join you for a dance or two?”

“We’ll see,” Geralt grimaced. Public adoration wasn’t really his thing. Neither was dancing. Both were very common when he visited the Faerie Realm with his well-loved wife. Jaskier thrived on it.

“Hmm,” Aine nodded. She turned her gaze to Geralt’s adoptive brothers and father. “Ah well. We can always convince the others.”

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

are you taking prompts for thomas the rhymer verse? if so, maybe geralt and jaskier meet aine again after the story ends?

(I really miss writing Thomas the Rhymer but that was such a fun fic! Thank you for this ask, it made my day to know people enjoyed my first Witcher fic)

When Jaskier woke one midwinter morning to find the courtyard of Kaer Morhen covered in flowers, he knew exactly who had come to visit. “My Lady!” 

“Huh?” Geralt asked, rolling over in their shared bed. One of the Witcher’s large arms fell across the bard’s torso, trapping him against the mattress. “Who?”

“Geralt, get up. It’s supposed to be freezing but the grass is green and there are daisies everywhere.”

“Aine.”

“Of course it’s Aine! Let me up!”

“Hmm.”

The bard pushed his husband’s arm out of the way and leapt out of bed. He tossed on his favorite shirt and trousers, which he’d taken with him from the Faerie Realm after his wedding to Geralt last summer. He flew down the stairs two at a time and out into the open mountain air. Standing statue-still in the middle of the greenery was the Faerie Queen, smiling widely. “True Thomas! How well you’ve taken to the mortal world.”

“I was a mere human not long ago,” the young dryad beamed, bowing lowly. 

“Ever the dramatist,” the Queen sighed fondly. “Embrace me, child, for I have missed your music.”

“Come inside! We’ll provide you a meal and I can play for you once again.”

“I’ve actually come to see the child,” Aine said. “I would like to meet the Lion Cub of Cintra truly and officially.”

“My daughter is quite the charmer.”

“Your daughter?”

“Papa!” 

“Cirilla!” Jaskier turned back towards one of Kaer Morhen’s many doors, which he’d left hanging open in his hurry to greet the Queen. Aine’s eyebrows lifted. She really does consider him one of her parents. “Come and meet My Lady, the Queen of the Faeries!”

“Call me Aine, child,” the redheaded woman insisted. She held out her hand, which Ciri kissed respectfully. The Queen hadn’t expected that and she grinned at the girl’s politeness. “I’ve come to give you a very belated birthday gift, dearest Ciri.”

“Don’t all Faerie gifts come with terrible prices?”

“Not mine.”

“Ciri,” her Papa scolded, blushing. “She has been far kinder to your father and I than we could ever have thought possible. I thought you knew better than to suspect such tricks from Lady Aine.”

“I’ve heard so many stories of Fae trickery,” the ex-princess apologized “I’m very sorry, my Queen.”

“You haven’t offended me in the slightest. My sister and her court have always been known for their mischief making and I very rarely leave the comfort of my own Realm to correct such tales. Anyway, you’ve more than earned this gift,” Aine smiled. She reached forward and pressed the heel of her hand to Ciri’s forehead, much like she’d done when taking Jaskier’s memories away so many years ago. This time, however, the girl’s face broke out into a placid grin. Her eyes shone with happiness and magic, her fair skin glowing slightly where it touched against the Queen’s. By the time Aine pulled her hand away, Geralt had joined them.

“My Lady,” he greeted with a short bow. Aine curtsied back and turned her attention to Ciri once more.

“I hope you enjoy it.”

“What did she give you?” Jaskier asked, ever the curious forest spirit. 

“Peace,” the Princess answered. Her eyes were full of tears but the smile threatening to split her face in two revealed her utmost joy. “She gave me peace.”

Aine spent the day with them, eating at their table and sharing in their happiness. She danced with Ciri before the fire in the Great Hall as Jaskier performed all of her old favorites from his time in the Seelie Court. Yen asked the Queen a few basic questions about being royalty and the finer workings of Fae magic but mostly just sipped at her wine and enjoyed herself quietly. 

Nobody in the room was a normal human; each had their own odd and special powers or enhancements. Somehow, though, she knew that this was the epitome of human nature. This room was filled with the purest parts of human existence.

Love. Family. Compassion.

The Queen of Faerie Land sent Jaskier a grateful look and felt her ancient heart settle firmly into her chest for the first time in a century. She’d be back to visit again. Soon.