also on ao3 ↠ (rated m for descriptions of violence)
For twenty years, Geralt had known him. Watched him find his feet, come into his talent, grow up.
Now, he wakes alone in the woods, head thick and heavy like the aftermath of a spell, the taste of foreign magic on his tongue and a bundle of flowers in his hand.
There is a boy in a tavern and a man on a mountain and a creature in a clearing, and Jaskier was never human.
OOF wrote this really fast, but I’m actually proud of it! Prompt generously given by @bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher , a most wonderful person!
~
Geralt was tired enough that when he saw the dark-haired, teal-skinned head peeking out of the water of the lake, he was able to convince himself that it was just a hallucination. He removed Roach’s bridle, and she inspected the lake closely, ears flicking back and forth, before snorting and ambling away to search the lush greenery for treats.
Geralt hesitated. Roach had excellent instincts. If there was something strange about the water…
Ah, it didn’t matter. His water bottle had run dry several miles ago and he needed liquid. So he knelt by the lake, submerged his water bottle--and heard the hiss of a blade being drawn.
He tried to scramble to his feet, but he was clumsy with exhaustion, and with a yelp, pitched forward into the lake.
He caught a glimpse of a strong teal body darting around him, before he closed his eyes tight and somehow managed to find the little cliffed bank. Emerging from the water, he gasped for breath, steadying himself against the bank--and saw the rather gruesome aftermath of Roach taking exception to whoever had snuck up on them. There was quite a lot of blood on her hooves and legs, and the person--perhaps a bandit--had a crushed skull. Geralt sighed and climbed onto dry land.
“You have a mean streak, Lady Roach,” he murmured, walking over to lean his forehead against his horse’s neck. She nickered in a sound like a laugh.
A low chuckle, like water over stones, made Geralt straighten and whirl, reaching for his sword--which wasn’t in his scabbard.
The teal being was standing on the bank, holding the sword, grinning.
“I’m glad Lady Roach killed that creature before I had to drown him,” the being said cheerfully. “There’s a few too many bodies in the woods.”
Geralt swallowed hard. “Ah. Who are you?” he asked cautiously.
The being laughed again. Its teeth were sharp and looked rather like an otter’s. “You can’t pronounce my name. It’s not a human language,” it replied dismissively, waving the sword casually. Geralt couldn’t help noticing how muscular the being’s arms and shoulders were. Also he noticed that it was completely naked.
“May I call you by a different name, then?” Geralt asked.
The being swayed on its feet, pouting as it thought. “Hmm. Jaskier. Call me Jaskier.”
Geralt nodded. “You may call me Geralt,” he replied. “Can I have my sword back, please?”
Jaskier gave him another bright smile, and said, “No.”
Roach stomped and snorted. Geralt frowned. “Why not?” he demanded.
Another ringing laugh from Jaskier. “Because we must have a trade,” it explained. “What can you give me that is as precious as your sword?”
Geralt grimaced. “I have some money,” he offered with no enthusiasm.
“Your human money means nothing to nymphs.”
Oh, fuck. A nymph. Geralt felt alarm tingle up his spine and prickle his scalp and ears. He hummed, then said, “Do you have anything in mind?”
Jaskier swung the sword in a figure-eight and bit its lip, eyeing Geralt with eyes so blue they seemed to shine in the dusk. Then it grinned, as its gaze caught on his mouth. “A kiss,” it said. “I’ll give you your sword for a kiss.”
Geralt felt a wave of dismay. His vows to the king forbade such contact. They forbade any intimate touches beyond handshakes, actually. He could not kiss the nymph. “I cannot give you a kiss. Is there anything else you’d take?”
Jaskier’s grin vanished, and it frowned. “Why not?” it demanded. “You humans try to kiss nymphs all the time.”
Geralt ran his hand through his hair and winced as his fingers caught in snarls he hadn’t combed out in a while. “I took an oath,” he answered. “I can’t kiss anyone unless I have the king’s permission.”
“What’s a king?”
“A leader of humans. I have sworn my loyalty to him, and that includes following his rules. I can’t kiss you unless he says I can.”
The nymph tilted its head, then shrugged and said, “So let’s go to your king. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind letting a loyal follower kiss someone to seal a bargain.”
Geralt sighed heavily. “You’re right. He wouldn’t. Hmm.” He started to remove his armor to take off his soaked clothes and wring them out--then noticed Jaskier staring at him in fascination.
“You look like me,” the nymph exclaimed. “Your shape.”
“Yes,” Geralt replied, confused. “Did you not notice?”
Jaskier shook its head. “I’ve never seen a human without plumage,” it said. “Are all humans like that?”
Geralt yanked off his shirt and wrung it out thoroughly. “No,” he grunted. “Humans have all kinds of bodies. By the way, are you a man or woman?”
Jaskier stared at him blankly. “What’s the difference?” it asked.
Geralt opened his mouth to explain--then closed it, frowning. There honestly wasn’t much difference. He could explain body parts, but even that wasn’t a solid rule. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“What are you?” Jaskier asked, tilting its head.
“A man.”
“Hmm.” Jaskier tugged its hair, then grinned and said happily, “I’ll be a woman, then!”
“Ah… alright.” Geralt scratched his head. “Are you… going to wear clothes?”
“Clothes?”
“Plumage.”
“Oh! Yes, that will be easy.” Jaskier crouched and picked a thistle, then stood and passed the thistle from the top of her head to her thigh. With a shimmer, she was clothed in a simple shirt and trousers, both of them glistening green like plants moving underwater. Her skin was white and tanned, but her hair was still short, messy, and dark, and her eyes gleamed blue in the dark.
“When shall we go?” the nymph chirped, grinning.
Geralt looked at his soaked shirt, his armor on the ground, his trousers plastered to his legs, and the goosebumps on his skin from a chill breeze. He sighed heavily. “In the morning,” he said. “I’m not ready to move on, and Roach needs her sleep.”
Roach bobbed her head and butted his chest with her nose.
Jaskier shrugged. “Alright,” she said, and swung Geralt’s sword casually. “Shall I wash Lady Roach’s fierce hooves?”
Roach immediately went to the nymph, nuzzling her face and making her laugh. Her teeth were still strange.
Geralt wondered what those teeth would feel like against his skin and hastily turned away.
When Roach was clean and Geralt was down to his loincloth, the knight and his horse settled to sleep. Jaskier sat a little ways away and sang songs in that liquid tone, songs that brought the hush of waves on sand, the gurgle of fast rivers, the chuckle of swift streams, the patter of rain… Geralt fell asleep quickly and softly for the first time since childhood.
~
Jaskier sighed dramatically when Geralt tried to convince her that he needed his sword to fight and protect them, then dove into the lake (still holding his sword) and emerged five minutes later with a sword that gleamed like mother-of-pearl in the sun, with a golden hilt and a bright yellow gem in the pommel.
“Here,” she said, holding it out to Geralt. “My aunt, the Lady of the Lake, gave this to me after she handed some random human her second-best sword.”
Geralt’s mouth fell open, but he took the sword and held it reverently. “It’s beautiful,” he murmured, running his fingers along the flat of the blade.
Jaskier shrugged. “Aunt said it makes the warrior who holds it invincible. Not a very good enchantment if the warrior loses it, or someone else steals it. Still. You might find it useful.”
Geralt stared at her for a moment, and wondered if there was a way to show his gratitude without offering a favor. Finally, he swallowed hard and sheathed the Lady’s sword. “Let’s move out, then,” he said in his best emotionless voice.
Jaskier smiled knowingly, but said nothing.
Luckily, they weren’t far from Camelot; only a few days. On the first day of travel, Geralt kept trying to explain court manners, but Jaskier’s unstoppable questions about why things were like that kept twisting him up. There really was no point to any of these things, except that they were important. They were about respect and the hierarchy.
“Nymphs don’t have stupid rules like that,” Jaskier grumbled, after Geralt’s third attempt to explain why there were different bows. “We’re all siblings and cousins and aunts and mothers, there is no hierarchy. Are you sure all these rules will convince the king to let you kiss me?”
“Yes,” Geralt said, rubbing his forehead. “King Arthur isn’t as bad as some of his vassals, but he’s very stern, especially after the incident with Lancelot.”
“What happened with Lancelot?”
“He slept with the queen.”
“Why is that a problem?”
“Because for humans, bindings like marriages and unions mean two people are, well, bound. It’s not good when one of them sleeps with another person. And she’s the queen. That’s even worse.”
Jaskier frowned and pursed her lips, then brightened. “So, once the bargain is sealed, does that mean no one can get in between our bond?” she asked.
Geralt stared at her blankly for a moment. Then he managed to say, “No. No, bargains aren’t bindings. Not like a marriage.”
Jaskier huffed and rolled her eyes. “Silly human, kiss-bargains are unions.”
Chills rolled through Geralt’s veins. “You… you want a union in exchange for my sword?” he spluttered. “It’s just a piece of metal!”
“But you love it,” Jaskier replied serenely. “It is old, and you care for it deeply. Therefore, since you lost a part of you in my lake, and I found it, I will give it back if you accept a part of me.”
A burning-hot blush crept up Geralt’s neck and filled his face. He swallowed hard and said, “That… doesn’t seem like a fair deal, though.”
Jaskier scooted over and leaned on Geralt’s shoulder. “You gave me a piece of you. You want it back. So, in exchange for the loss of such an important part of you, I will give you something important to me. Don’t worry, I’ll take it back when you die.”
Geralt’s stomach twisted. Die? Well, he was almost fifty… if he didn’t retire, he would be killed. But Jaskier seemed so nonchalant about it. Had she had unions with humans in the past, and watched them die? That seemed like such a sad life.
Jaskier looped her arms around his. “It’s a fair deal,” she assured him softly. “You just can’t see that yet.”
~
The days spent traveling were, unfortunately, too short.
Traveling with a nymph wasn’t actually that bad; when coin ran short, she amused herself and other people by singing for food, or staging fights. She also stepped in when tempers were hot over stupid things like donkeys or women who weren’t interested. She charmed everyone she met, even though sometimes that had dangerous consequences.
Entertaining as this was, they weren’t Geralt’s favorite moments.
His favorite moments with Jaskier involved her singing softly when it was just them. Combing his hair for him, putting little braids in it. Cooking together, sometimes with her feeding him and laughing when he blushed. Finding shapes in the stars when they lay down to sleep.
Geralt was a little unnerved by how quickly he grew to appreciate Jaskier’s presence. But, well… she was kinder to him than other humans. The mark of his inhuman heritage, his golden eyes, usually scared people away; but Jaskier touched his cheekbones gently and murmured that his eyes were beautiful. His body was bigger and stronger than other humans, and he was often called an ogre behind his back; but Jaskier was just as tall and strong as him, and saw no problem being close. Geralt’s sense of humor made people edge away and look at him askance; Jaskier laughed at his jokes, all of them, and called him quick-witted.
Geralt wasn’t sure what this fluttering warmth in his chest meant, but it made him want to be near Jaskier for more than just eight days. She was wonderful. So bright, so full of life, breaking into the dull drudgery of his life and making it about her smile, not his despair.
Approaching the castle, Geralt began to tense. King Arthur was a good man, but Geralt wasn’t sure which would be worse: being allowed to fulfill the bargain, and then having to say goodbye to Jaskier, or not being allowed to, and dragging them apart, so they couldn’t share their pieces with each other. No, he knew exactly which one was worse--never feeling Jaskier’s soft lips against his, never getting his father’s sword back, never sharing with Jaskier again.
Was this love? Maybe. Geralt didn’t really have much experience with love, unless one counted his shy flirtations with Yennefer, the witch-girl who was about five years older than him and didn’t actually care about him at all.
The pain of Yennefer faded when Geralt looked at his nymph, and he was glad.
Merlin met them at the gate, and Geralt swallowed hard. He’d forgotten the ancient fuck was in residence. Would he know that Jaskier wasn’t human? There was that tale of Merlin’s own uncanny blood--would like recognize like?
Merlin stroked his beard and eyed them both sharply as they stopped a few yards away from him. “Well, Sir Geralt,” the wizard said, “I saw you were coming, but I did not see the nature of your companion.”
“She’s not dangerous,” Geralt replied, a little too quickly.
One eyebrow rose, and Merlin’s mouth curled up into a sly smile. “Why don’t I believe you?” he murmured, then turned to Jaskier. “Welcome, nymph. I am Merlin, mage of this court.”
Jaskier smiled. “Thank you, Merlin. My name is Jaskier.”
“If you two will come with me, I will escort you to the king’s audience chamber.”
Geralt suddenly had to urge to scoop Jaskier up and run away with her, abandon King Arthur’s court, become a wanderer with his nymph by his side--but that was just panic. He had always hated talking to royalty in public.
A stableboy took hold of Roach, who took a moment to nuzzle Jaskier’s cheek before allowing herself to be led away. Geralt ran his fingers through his hair and followed Merlin and Jaskier into the castle. Why did he feel such dread?
Arthur was having an audience with some vassals who were whining about needing more taxes. Geralt, Jaskier, and Merlin waited by the door until the nobles were gone and they were announced.
“The mage Merlin, Sir Geralt of Rivia, and Jaskier, your majesty.”
Merlin and Geralt bowed; Jaskier just tilted his head and looked at King Arthur thoughtfully.
“Who is this Jaskier, Sir Geralt?” Arthur asked, inspecting Jaskier with his gaze, too.
“A nymph,” Geralt said. “She has my sword, and made a bargain that she’ll only give it back if I kiss her.”
Arthur looked pointedly at the sword on Geralt’s hip. “But it seems you have a new one,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“It’s a loan until she gives me my own back,” Geralt explained.
“A loan from who?”
“My aunt,” Jaskier answered for Geralt, her voice more uncanny than ever. “The Lady of the Lake.”
Everyone froze. Geralt felt sweat on his face.
“I… see,” King Arthur said slowly, frowning. “And why did you exchange his mortal sword for a magic one?”
“Because it is important to him,” Jaskier replied, as if that were obvious. “The magic one is just magic; the one I hold is steeped in memories and care. Can I kiss him now?”
Merlin frowned and stroked his beard again. King Arthur’s mouth twisted and he looked stern. “Why such a bargain?” Arthur demanded. “A mere kiss for a sword?”
Jaskier smiled brightly. “Because I love him,” she said.
Geralt’s head whipped around and he stared at Jaskier, wide-eyed. “What?” he got out in a strangled voice.
Jaskier laughed and pushed his shoulder gently. “You humans are so silly,” she teased, “You don’t even know nymph custom.”
Geralt could not think of a reply, so he stayed silent.
Merlin chuckled quietly, and said, “Well, that is certainly a twist.”
King Arthur looked just as stunned as Geralt. Then he frowned, and stood swiftly. Geralt tensed, watching the king warily and trying to figure out the best way to escape without putting Jaskier in danger.
The king walked towards them, fists clenched. Geralt stepped subtly forward and in front of Jaskier. He’d rather die than let his nymph be hurt.
“Arthur,” Merlin said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention. “Do you truly mean to punish one of your knights because an uncanny being fell in love with him? That is not wise, you know; nymphs do not take kindly to such actions.”
Arthur clenched his jaw, then turned back to Geralt and Jaskier. After a moment, he huffed angrily and said, “Fine. You may have an exception to your vow, if only to get your sword back.
“Thank--” Geralt started to say, but he was spun around before he could finish and Jaskier pressed her lips to his.
I love you, Geralt, Jaskier’s voice whispered in his mind. I love you so much.
I love you too, Geralt replied.
Jaskier pulled back and laughed merrily. “Well! Now that the binding is sealed, we can go have more adventures together!”
“I--but my oaths--” Geralt stammered, still a little off-kilter.
“Silly man, I told you all those rules are stupid. Why be knight who has to follow them, when you can be free?”
Geralt opened his mouth, thought for a moment--and began to feel a lightness in his mind and body. “You’re right,” he murmured, almost reverently, putting his hands on Jaskier’s waist. “I don’t have to.”
She laughed again and pulled him close for a second kiss.
He was bitten only a few weeks into the apocalypse, screaming and kicking away from the thing that had sunk its teeth into the soft flesh of his lower arm. First came the fever, leaving him delirious. A semi-conscious state in which he’d slunk away from Geralt—passed out from trying to stop the disease spreading through Jaskier— looking grieved even in slumber. Then came the seizures, wrecking his body somewhere in the woods, far enough away from the camp to not be a threat. And finally, after seemingly endless hours of agony— Death. And then his Un-Death, in which he gets up, shivering, ravenous, and.... not a mindless monster at all. Shit.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/18
Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Roach (The Witcher), Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg - mentioned, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon - mentioned, other minor background characters
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Game Lore, Mix of canons, fae, creature!Jaskier, winged!jaskier, Feral Jaskier | Dandelion, BAMF Jaskier, Fae!Jaskier, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Magic Jaskier, Monster jaskier, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Character Transformation, Magic Manipulation, Magic mind control, Memory Magic, (All mentioned Magic Mind/Memory Manipulation is non-sexual), Pining, Mutual Pining, Angst, Fluff, Angst and Fluff, Jaskier Whump, Hurt Jaskier | Dandelion, Not Actually Unrequited Love, smitten geralt - Freeform, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, (Past mostly), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Feral Behavior, (Exhibited by Jaskier), Cuddling, Feelings, Fix-It, Making Up, Love Confessions, Getting Together, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, idiots to lovers, Eventual Smut, Hurt and comfort, Slow Burn, (in the past), Flashbacks, Insecurity, (minor) - Freeform, Healing from trauma, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, Blood and Gore, Transformation, Swearing, Sex, Monster sex, (Meaning Jaskier in Fae!form), Terato, Teratophilia, Explicit Consent, Forest Sex, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, (briefly, they switch), Top Jaskier | Dandelion, very light dom/sub undertones, Porn with Feelings, PWP, (More Plot Than Porn), Masturbation, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Nipple Play, Size Kink, Scent Kink, Praise Kink, biting kink, Wing Kink, Kink Discovery, Happy Ending
Series: Part 1 of It’s Tough to Be a God
Summary:
Traders are a gossiping sort. If there was a scandal within the noble houses of Posada, you’d hear about it in Cretegor by the end of the week. So, the quick spread of a rumor about a little village in the Kestrel Mountain range was not at all surprising. What was surprising was the story that the traders wove. They said that Luibhtorrach, a sad, ghost of a farming town, had miraculously become a hub for trade, as if overnight. Their lands unbelievably fertile and brimming with crop. Even stranger, each and every one of Luibhtorrach’s people professed that their good fortune was the work of a mysterious beast they’d claimed as their personal deity. Most recent news foretold of their plans to throw a midsummer festival celebrating this newfound god. In preparation, silken blue banners were erected in every corner of the town, each bearing the symbol of their new patron: A delicate dandelion wrapping around a golden sun.
- Or -
Jaskier accidentally becomes the god of a village he stumbled upon after Geralt’s post-dragon hunt meltdown. Maybe it had something to do with his new look.
