The general population of the pub remained oblivious to the two women, all attention focused on either their drinks, or the singular woman singing with her lute. A stray eye would glance to the Witcher in the corner, covered in dirt and blood. She could go to their room and wash up, but who wanted to do that alone? Geralyn never imagined that she would spend her nights waiting for a Bard, of all things, to finish her sets before she could go to bed. She never imagined she would form an attachment to someone, let alone keep them in her life. Juliana had broken through her walls early on, but she would say that she had not done so until this year. She had a reputation to uphold.
A relationship of any kind outside of Roach, the casual tavern maid, and a certain witch was a shock to her system. Friendship was what she allowed herself to believe she had with Juliana. Just a friendship, she reminded herself as she let her eyes roam the woman on stage. To say Juliana was attractive was an understatement. Her long hair fell in light waves around her shoulder, a stray lock dropping into her face, causing her to blow it out of her face. Her smile lit up her entire face, bringing out her hazel eyes. She insisted on wearing a formfitting blue dress, because it “brought out her eyes.” Geralyn grumbled every time she put that dress on, “it doesn’t bring out your eyes, it brings out your tits.” And each time Juliana would respond with the smile of a devil, and Geralyn was familiar with those, “But my tits sell.”
Not that she wanted to control Juliana, hell she knew she couldn’t. But there was always an unease when she put on that dress and Geralyn knew she would be on a hunt. She didn’t trust the men in the pubs they stayed in. She didn’t trust men in any part of the world with her Bard. If she had her choice she would put Juliana in a safe cottage in the woods, warded from any creatures, far from the dangers of the world, filled with dandelions.
Geralyn let a smile grace her lips as Juliana began singing love songs, the men dropping coin at her feet. Dandelion, Geralyn’s name for Juliana when they were alone. It had happened after a fight they had when it was suggested that her Bard would be safer far away from her.
“I am not a weak flower, Lyn!” Juliana snarled, her hair and eyes wild as she grasped the Witcher’s bicep.
The Witcher turned on her Bard, “You’re right, you’re a fucking dandelion, stubborn, a pain in the ass, and always coming back.”
Juliana’s eyes widened, her grip loosened on the Witcher. She took a step away from her. “Do you want me to go?” She asked bluntly.
It was the Witcher’s turn to freeze. Did she want her to leave? For her safety, yes. To get her far from the demons and the monsters. Yes. To save her from the sentence of loving a Witcher, yes. To keep her alive.
The Witcher felt her chest tightened as she imagined life without her Bard. Without her incessant singing about tossing coin to the Witcher. Without her warmth next to her each morning, without her pressed against her during a storm, without her there to wrap the Witcher into her embrace when the darkness swallowed her whole. Without her to piece her back together, each tiny piece by piece. “Hmmmm.” The Witcher answered noncommittally, but the bard knew exactly what that ‘hmmm’ meant.
In that instant she drew the Witcher into her embrace. “Darling, I’m not going anywhere.” She whispered into the Witcher’s white hair. “Dandelion’s are stubborn, hardy, and they grow where you least expect.”
The Witcher burrowed her face into the neck of her bard, breathing in the fresh floral scent. Juliana brushed her hand through the Witcher’s hair, working through the tangles from the day. When she was finished she was finished she began massaging her scalp. The Witcher let out a faint moan, which resulted in a chuckle from the Bard. “Come to bed with me,” the Bard murmured, pulling away from Geralyn and taking her hand to lead her into their bed for the night.
That was the day that Geralyn knew without a doubt that she could not and would not live without her Bard. As unlikely as the scenario would be, she knew her existence and purpose was directly linked to the woman on stage. The woman who refused to leave her side, even when she was at her worst. The woman she loved.
Geralyn was pulled from her musings by the applause that signaled the end of Juliana’s performance. She knew that did not mean they would be retiring to their room. The Bard had to make her rounds of the pub and take full advantage of the tavern owner’s hospitality, even if his wife wanted to throw her into the swamp for the night.
Juliana sashayed through the crowd to the bar. As she waited for her cup and plate a man drew close to her. Geralyn’s hand tightened on the mug in her hand, she could smell his intent from her seat and began to rise from her seat. He pressed his front against Juliana’s back, Geralyn heard Juliana give a warning.
“And why would I do that?” The buffoon said, just before Geralyn reached him.
Geralyn grabbed the back of his shirt collar and raised him off the ground by his collar.
“Well, I doubt she would appreciate it.” Juliana said brushing herself off, looking at her lover, suspending the man with one arm, with the look of a killer in her eyes, dried blood and mud splattered her clothes and hair. “Darling, let him go, he’s not worth your time.”
Geralyn glanced at Juliana, taking her eyes away from the man. The Witcher sighed and dropped the man to the ground. Juliana gave her a small smile, something glinted in Geralyn’s eyes as she closed the gap between the two women and pulled the Bard to her, pressing her lips to Juliana’s.
She pulled away, “Mine.” She growled lowly as she moved in to press another kiss to the Bard’s neck, her hand traveling to the small of the Bard’s back. Sensing the men in the tavern turning their gaze to the two women pressed against the bar. “Our room, now.” She mumbled low.
Juliana began to protest, “We’ll take your food with us.” The Witcher snapped, grabbing the plate and ale, pushing the Bard towards the stairs and guiding her to their shared room.
Juliana smirked when the door closed behind the two, a warm bath was freshly drawn in the corner of the room. Geralyn cocked one eyebrow at her lover and set the plate and mug down. She moved to where Juliana stood and pulled her against her chest. Threading her fingers into her hair and pulling her in for a kiss, more passionate than the bar kiss. Juliana’s hands fell to the waistband of the Witcher’s pants and pulled the tucked shirt out, running her hands along the Witcher’s toned stomach, moving upward until Geralyn grabbed her hands to stop her.
Juliana removed her hands from Geralyn, as Geralyn reached down to the ties of the corset. She began kissing along Juliana’s neck as she untied the corset, “My Bard.”
Geralyn woke the next morning next morning with Juliana pressed against her side. She glanced down at the woman in her arms and smiled, no matter the monsters, the demons, the challenges she knew one thing would always be certain. That she would find her home in her Bard.
