Call Jaskier a fool, but he's fallen in love with a witcher.
As a merman.
But despite what all his peers tell him, he wholeheartedly believes the witcher would never hurt a merman, let alone one as harmless as Jaskier! They'll make great friends! And even better lovers! Hopefully!
So when Jaskier learns the witcher is camping not far from a river, Jaskier literally jumps at the chance to get close to finally meet the man he's admired from afar for so long. Only problem is that the river is muddy in some parts, and in other parts thinner and more shallow than he thought, and though he loathes to admit it, he does get stuck.
He's beached. He hasn't even met his witcher and he's BEACHED!
BEACHED! AND HE'S NOT EVEN ON A BEACH!
He's tied between being horrified he's dying alone, and being thankful nobody is seeing the embarrassing way he's leaving this world.
He's not getting nearly enough water into his gills, and the sun is merciless. It's been nearly two days since he first got stuck. His eyesight is blurring and all he can hear is his own breathing.
But then he's suddenly hefted up into arms and being carried away, and he can't even worry about who has found him, because he's finally drifted off into a (sadly very dry) slumber.
He wakes up to find himself in a small pond, just barely big enough for him to swim a lap, and that was pretty much it. Clearly for healing and not long-term stay. But it was big enough to live. The gills on his sides near his ribs are fully submerged in the water, and he belatedly notices that water is being repeatedly poured on the gills on his neck. He turns to look at what is dripping on him, and finds it to be a waterskin.
His witcher found him!
His witcher found him, and is filling up his waterskin with the pond's water and pouring it on Jaskier's fills repeatedly. He's caring for him! Oh, how Jaskier's heart is singing!
Jaskier tries to talk to him only to cough and let out a weak chirp noise. The witcher shushes him and warns Jaskier that he was in a very bad way and that it'd be best for him to rest for now. Jaskier decides not to take his advice, and instead stays up to stare at his witcher and chirp at him.
One time when Geralt pours the water over the mer's gills, he reaches his head up to bump at Geralt's hand until Geralt allows the Mer to limply nuzzle his wrist.
It's a tad annoying that this mer Geralt saved is so relentlessly determined to shower him with affection, but after a few days of the attention, Geralt submits to the routine.
It only gets more intimate when the Mer regains speech and now keep asking Geralt things about himself and showering him with compliments.
Geralt learns about the merman, and grows attached, he admits, but he can't keep care of a mer. He has to continue on The Path and the Mer cannot follow. So one day, he picks up Jaskier, brings him back to the ocean, and sets him free.
Four times.
It takes four times before Jaskier stops trying to beach himself to follow.
Geralt is miserable without his little merman companion, but he knows it's for the best.
That is, until a few months lather, when he hears word of a merman being captured nearby and he knows deep down it's his merman.
I don't know if Jaskier is captured by poachers intent on killing or harming him or if he's been captured by some sort of circus/freakshow but I DO know that Jaskier got captured because he started recklessly talking to any and all humans asking for anyone who knows how to turn him human (so he can be with his witcher)
Hii! For mermay prompts, how about depth for geraskier (ofc)
WHY YES OF COURSE FRANKSTER!
and uh, I made you choose between prince and amnesia, because both of those popped into my head at the prompt. Prince was chosen and here we are!
Hope you enjoy! <3
(also feel free to prompt me, here or on tumblr, i am on a writing spree and olsdfkj sorry for posting like 4 times in a day)
Send me a pairing and a word and I will make you some words? ❤️
On Ao3 here
Jaskier has been gone for too long. Geralt has been pacing their room for hours.
Yes, he did promise to stay put for a couple days, to wait for Jaskier’s… whatever he is doing. Or who.
The shoddy fisher village is gray, cold, everything covered in a thin layer of salt the spray of the waves offer in its violent rage.
Wind is whipping around the little wooden houses– sheds, really.
It’s been three days since Jaskier left. Three days, and he was supposed to be back this morning.
Is this how it feels to be left behind when Geralt himself leaves for a contract?
Possibly, because no matter how much Jaskier had told him to stay put, to wait, to just fucking trust him damnit, Geralt is fretting.
Finally he gives in.
Leaving the room the kind elderly lady is lending them, Geralt stalks outside. It doesn’t make sense. Nothing makes sense.
The people here are not afraid of him, but seem to keep a distance from the bard. Everything about this place seems grey, but still it seems like the ever colorful Jaskier returns here, over and over again.
He starts with the aldermans house. They don’t have a tavern, the little gathering of houses far too small for such luxuries.
“The bard? You should check by the docks, or the boat house. He usually is out with the boat this time a year.”
He..what? Boat?
What the fuck is Jaskier doing?!
Geralt leaves without saying good bye, and the bard would have scolded Geralt for his bad manners, but he isn’t fucking here, is he?!
The boat house is, predictably, just down by the water. There is a long dock leading into the water, two smaller fishing boats tied to it.
An elderly man and someone who looks like his son sits by the house, mending nets.They look up when he approaches, shielding their eyes against the setting sun.
“Have you seen a bard around here? Jaskier? Brown hair, blue eyes, a lute and the worst fashion sense known to man?”
The elderly man presses his lips to a thin line and ducks his head. His son studies the witcher for a long moment, sizing him up, before responding.
“Aye,” he says, “What is it to you, witcher?”
“He’s my friend.” Geralt manages, working hard around a word that feels so inadequate. “And he is missing.”
“No more, lad,” the elderly man mutters, “Bad luck, it is.”
Geral frowns, trying not to let his impatience get the better of him.
“I’ll make it worth your while. Six crowns.”
“Florens.” The son corrects. “Ten. And I’ll take you to where we left him.”
-
The elderly fisherman refuses to come. Speaking of ill omens and bad luck, of not talking to the sea. The son takes him anyway, the sea getting oddly misty as they go further out with the boat.
“Coin is sparse out here, but my niece is sick. I’d rather leave the sea altogether than see her hurt,” the son says, rowing the boat towards a previously hidden little rock formation, barely an island. “Da doesn’t want to speak of it, speak of evil and it shall come, he says. We don’t need more sirens, he says.”
Geralt eyes him, then the sky. He can’t hear any flapping of wings, nor splashing of their tails. The water is calm, but the mist lays thick and hides both sight and sound.
The little boat touches the edge of the rock with a soft sound when they arrive.
“This is where I let him off every year,” the son says. “And pick him up after a few days. Know nothing but that.”
The florens trade hands, and when Geralt gets off, he pushes back into the water.
“I’ll be back in an hour. It’s probably superstition, but I don’t much like this place.”
-
Inspecting the area, Geralt finds it bare of both bards and life. He climbs around it, eventually finding an expensive looking chest with a solid lock on it.
It looks strange out here, oddly devoid of the wear and tear one would expect wood around the shore. Geralt picks the lock with ease, and when opens the lid, it doesn’t make a sound.
Inside it is a very familiar lute, and neatly folded clothes. Geralt’s heart sinks, but he has a trace now, something. He rummages around, finding everything Jaskier had brought but his jewellery. Even his underclothes is here.
Geralt closes it again, locks it carefully.
There should be traces here, anything to lead him to where Jaskier is.
The scent is old, barely there and hidden by the salty smell of the sea. Geralt will never complain about Jaskier’s perfume ever again.
It leads him to the other side of the little island, across the rocks on a path that looks surprisingly smooth and well walked.
Geralt stops when water starts lapping at his feet.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Either Jaskier has been hiding something from him, or something very bad has happened. And either truth still means Jaskier is missing, and that he went into the water. And from the sound of it, has been coming to the water for years.
Geralt trails back to the chest, takes off his boots and heavy armor. Takes off everything but his trousers, and two silver daggers.
The stone is smooth under his feet, and quickly gets slippery as it continues out into the water.
It’s cold, his skin pebbles when he gets as deep as his knees. Then the rock abruptly ends. Geralt breathes deep, and dives. Cat and killer whale would have been useful, but he didn’t know he would have to go swimming when they got out here.
Geralt has almost swum around the entire island when he notices the formations. Runes carved into stone, worn smooth by time and water.
With another deep breath, he follows it down, down, down, and what little sunlight was left quickly disappears down here.
There is an opening a bit further down.
And eyes. Many eyes.
Geralt realizes too late that he is surrounded, and there are clawed fingers and webbed hands pulling him deeper still, and into the opening.
His lungs are burning for air, and he is quickly disoriented, his elbows scraping against stone and harsh hands making him unable to reach for his knives.
Suddenly, they breach the surface, and Geralt pants harshly as he is dragged onwards and thrown onto a slimy rock. Broken shells of crabs and clams are spread out, and bones of fishes of all sizes lie spread among them.
Now free from his attacker, Geralt reaches for the dagger and turns to face them, but a beautiful face filled with fangs hisses at him as they retreat backwards, and another set of hands grip him hard.
Geralt can’t entirely make out if it is siren or mer people or something completely else, but more hands grip him, wrestling the knife from his hand.
“Walk!” one hisses, “You were looking, and you found us. Walk!”
Her voice is almost human, but her tongue is unused to his language. They shove him forward, deeper into the cave. It gets darker and darker, until suddenly Geralt realizes the walls are glowing.
Aluminescent is probably the right word for it. Algae covers the walks, swirling lines make patterns he feels like he has seen somewhere before.
It takes him until the now narrow walkway opens up into a bigger space that Geralt realizes where he recognizes it from.
The embroidery of Jaskier’s clothes.
When Geralt locks eyes with Jaskier across the room, the bard’s jaw is slack with surprise when he sees him
“Geralt,” he says, but oh.
Oh.
Jaskier doesn’t have a tail, but his skin is glimmering with the same pattern as the walls. He is sitting in the middle of the open space, on a rock slanting out to a deep, clear pool.
It almost looks like a throne room.
Around his feet are merpeople of different shapes and sizes.
The guards shoves him back when Geralt attempts to take a step forward, and Geralt bares his teeth to them.
“Stop it,” Jaskier says, voice commanding.
The guards, now that Geralt sees them, look like a strange hybrid of fish and man. Claws and fins and webbed fingers and hissing breaths, but they keep their distance, as they are told.
Jaskier is still wearing his rings and his necklace, but little else. On his brow is a circlet, thin and adorned with shells and crowned with a mother of pearls.
“I told you to wait,” Jaskier says, tilting his head.
“You didn’t come back. It’s been three days,” Geralt says, feeling foolish without not really knowing why.
“Has it? I’m sorry, time passes strangely down here.”
They just look at each other for a long while, for once the bard too seems at a loss for words.
“You don’t look like them,” Geralt says finally, indicating at the more fish-like guards behind him.
“I don’t,” Jaskier agrees, “Many mer these days are closer to sirens, but those close to the royal family are more humanoid.”
Jaskier gives a crooked smile when he sees Geralt wracks his brain.
“I told you I was a noble, didn’t I?”
“You said viscount.” Geralt suddenly remembers. “Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz de Lettenove.”
“Ah yes, well. That is some of the truth, yes. Don’t give me that look, Geralt, I didn’t lie to you. I just happen to be a prince too.”
Geralt blinks, and Jaskier looks back at him, sitting proudly despite the light frown.
“Mer prince? Is that why you don’t have a tail?” Geralt asks carefully, and the guard next to him rolls his eyes so hard his head moves with it.
“I do have a tail, my friend. When I choose to. The perks of royalty, wouldn’t you say?” he says with a smirk, “Now, as happy as I am to see you here, and for you to meet my family, this is… not ideal. I wish… It doesn’t matter. You are here now. Ligeia, let him through. I think it is time he is given the tour.”
“But my prince-” Ligeia says with her weird, hissing voice, but Jaskier waves her off.
“I have spent more time with him than you are old. Let him come to me.”
Geralt is let through, and Jaskier offers his hand. It is not something they usually do, not while awake, but Geralt accepts it anyway.
Jaskier is cool to the touch, but his hands feel the same. Same callouses, same scar just over his thumb from a stupid accident with a branch.
He is led towards the other side of the rock, into the clear pool.
“Not the way I wanted to show you, but I’m glad you are here,” Jaskier whispers, like a confession. Hand in hand, they dive.
-
When they return to the outside world, the stars are out. When Geralt worries about how they will get back, Jaskier waves him off.
“They always kind of know when I need to go back. I think that is a part of why they don’t trust me.”
Yeah, that makes sense. Splashing of ores breaks the serene silence around them, and the son stares at them a bit wide eyed.
The ride back is more tense than last time, despite Jaskier’s chattering.
When they get back to their room, Geralt realizes they are still holding hands.
“Well, my prince,” he says teasingly, “I think we have some talking to do.”
omg... can I ask if there is a goldfish version of Geralt?
atm there's no Goldfish!Geralt, I'm so sorry Anon 😟 Geralt is the one that saved our little fish from a monster, but who knows maybe in the future I can draw him as a cute goldfish!
“Look, why don’t we leave tomorrow? That is, if you’ll give me another chance to prove myself a... worthy travel companion. We could head to the coast. Get away for a while.”
Here’s my piece for the @geraskierholidayexchange event! It’s for @kaenanmatsuura , who asked for ‘Merman Jaskier and Human Geralt’ as well as ‘Some well deserved cuddles’! Happy Holidays! I hope you like it! ❤️
Your prompt made me think of Art Nouveau— I think because I instantly thought of them on a beach, hair flowing wildly— so I did it in the style of Alphonse Mucha’s paintings and posters. Below the cut is a version without the wave overlapping Jaskier’s tail, and some more of my rambling~
Do not Edit, Trace, or Repost! ⚠️
Reblogs, however, are greatly appreciated! ✨
I just wanted to include this version here because I really liked working on Jaskier’s Tail. I also have some concept sketches, some timelapses, and a drawing of Mer!Jaskier’s design I made for my own reference purposes. I might post those later. Let me know if that’s something you’d like to see! Thank you!
for @petrificustotaluss ❤
this was not an official ask, but i loved the idea too much not to write it!
Keeping the lighthouse is a family tradition. Before Eskel, it was Vesemir and after him, if Geralt is still capable, he will take over. If not, it will be Lambert and so on until no one is left to tend to it. But Eskel is new here, he's only been around a couple of months and he's still adjusting. It's not the solitude that bothers him, not really, and he loves the location right on the ocean, but there's something that just feels off and he can't quite place it.
He starts his mornings the same way every day, with breakfast and tea, then sets himself to his chores. In the afternoons, he reads and paints and in the evenings he lights a fire in the hearth and watches out for incoming ships. But the island is a lonely one and there isn't much traffic, so he rarely has much to report in his log. The days progress in much the same way, changing only in the content in his books and paintings and what he eats for supper and then one day while he's heading down to the beach to fish, he finds…. something.
He climbs down the rocky ledge to the beach to closer inspect it. It's just above the tide line so even if the tide came in high, it would remain untouched. Eskel crouches down next to it and it's actually an amalgamation of bits of stone and shell and coral and while from a distance it's just a pile, it's actually quite beautiful up close. No one lives nearby so Eskel is certain it cannot belong to anyone and he doesn't feel any guilt about picking it up and taking it home with him.
He takes it inside and sets it on the mantle where he can look at it when he reads. The following morning, there is another.
This one is simpler but unmistakably handmade and Eskel would call it windchimes under other circumstances. There is a cross of driftwood at the top with small, beautiful stones and bits of softened sea glass tied on rope. When he picks it up it blows lightly in the wind and for something so simple, it makes a remarkably beautiful sound. He takes it back to the lighthouse and hangs it outside the front door.
The gifts keep coming, each one more beautiful than the next and there's no denying any longer that someone is leaving them there intentionally. But no one lives within a hundred miles and Eskel would know if there were ships passing through, so he can't figure out who is leaving the gifts.
He resolves to find out.
Vesemir taught him to brew teas to keep him awake and alert long into the night if need be. And this is not a situation where he needs to be awake, but no one needs to know but him. So he brews his tea and fills out his log and in the early hours of the morning, he slips down to the beach to wait.
For a little while, there is nothing and then, just before dawn, just before Eskel would regularly wake, the surface of the ocean ripples and something breaks the surface. Eskel watches as a head appears from beneath the waves, shiny blonde hair flat against the skull and then blue eyes, so bright he can see them even in the early morning light. He holds his breath as the man slips above the surface, strong arms and a strong chest now fully visible. And then the man freezes.
Eskel doesn't move for fear of startling him, but he holds his gaze, soft and unwavering until the man turns abruptly and dives back below, a thick silver-blue tail slapping the water as he goes. And then, just as suddenly as he appeared, he's gone and Eskel is left stunned and alone.
He's heard the tales of merfolk, of course, every ship's captain and lighthouse keeper has, but he never believed in them until now. Because his visitor was certainly not human. From the chest up he had seemed so, but no human man bears a scaled tail and no human is that shockingly beautiful.
Eskel sits in the sand for some time thinking about it as the sun rises and the day begins around him. He starts his routine late that day and as he goes through the motions, he can't seem to shake the image of blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He's reminded of the fields of buttercups where he grew up and absently starts referring to the creature as Jaskier.
He spends the entire morning thinking about him and by lunchtime, he's made up his mind to leave a gift of his own. He wants to show that he doesn't mean any harm, that whatever Jaskier is doing around here, he's welcome to stay and that Eskel appreciates the gifts he's been leaving. But he can't exactly leave a painting and he doesn't know what else a merperson might want or need, so he thinks on it as he eats and comes up with the idea to carve something for him.
It's been a long time since he's done any whittling, but he's sure he'll still be able to pull something off. He looks around his untidy kitchen and living area and reluctantly ignores them for the time being, heading upstairs to dig out his knife.
Eskel spends far longer than he should trying to find a piece of wood that's acceptable for carving and then even longer trying to decide what to carve.
At first, he considers a whale, but then thinking about it, he doesn't know if that might offend a merperson. What is their relationship with the other creatures around them? He doesn't know. So he thinks about something else he might recognize. Coral, perhaps? A shell?
Eventually, he settles on a ship. It came before the idea for a lighthouse, but he thought that might be presumptuous and had returned back to the ship idea.
He gets to work, carving out the basic shape with practiced draws and shortly he's left with something that already resembles a ship. He carves out the shape of the bow, and the deck then makes a quick decision to add sails and a little rope coming off the side for the anchor. When it's done he smiles down at it. It's not his best work, by far, but it's been years since he's done anything like this and he's out of practice. But it's finished before he has to turn in, which is what he wanted because he wants to wake up early tomorrow to deliver to Jaskier himself if he can.
So he tucks the knife back into his pocket and carries the boat back up to the lighthouse. He sets it on a table and goes about the rest of his evening, tucking into bed early so he can wake up early.
When dawn rolls around, Eskel is exhausted, but he manages to wake up and he hurries down to the beach with his little boat. He sets it down in the sand where he'd found the other gifts and backs away in case Jaskier sees him and gets nervous again. He doesn't want to startle him.
And just like yesterday, after a few moments, he rises out of the surf only this time he doesn't turn back. This time he sees the boat and comes closer, pulling himself up out of the water and picking the boat up in his hand. He turns it over, inspecting it, raking clawed fingers gently along the side. After a moment, evidently unaware of Eskel sitting close by, he curls his tail up under himself and sits and looks at the boat. His eyes are wide with interest and a small smile spreads across his lips as he turns the boat around in his hands once more.
Eskel holds his breath, afraid to even move lest he startle Jaskier. He watches him carefully but lets himself look this time. Jaskier really is beautiful. His hair shines in the early morning sun and when he shifts, his tail seems almost to shimmer.
Abruptly, Jaskier looks up and spots Eskel and for a moment, neither of them moves, but then Jaskier cocks his head and shifts. Eskel thinks he's about to slide back into the water and he can only hope he takes the boat with him, but he doesn't. Instead, Jaskier slides closer to the bottom of the ledge and holds the boat up to him.
"Did you make this?" he asks and Eskel is a little startled to hear his voice. It's as beautiful as the rest of him, but he hadn't expected him to speak in the common tongue. He nods, unsure of what else to say. "It's lovely," Jaskier smiles.
"'S for you."
"For me?"
"You left such beautiful things," Eskel shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought I could give something back in return."
"Oh." Jaskier looks down at the carving.
"Is that... okay?" Eskel asks. After a moment, Jaskier looks back at him.
"Yes."
"Thank you," Eskel adds, "for the gifts. And I'm sorry if I startled you yesterday, I just wanted to see who was leaving them. At this, Jaskier's face flushes a bright red and his gaze drops to the sand in front of him.
"I think you're beautiful," he mumbles, the colour in his cheeks deepening, "and you always seemed so alone up here."
Eskel flounders. He has never considered himself beautiful, especially not with his scar and especially not in comparison to someone like Jaskier.
"Oh."
"I didn't want to disturb you, I just wanted to... visit," he shrugs lamely, "to come and see you."
"You could have just come up when I was on the beach," Eskel suggests and Jaskier looks perplexed.
"Just come up and talk to you?" he asks as if it's a foreign concept. And really, Eskel doesn't know anything about merpeople, it could be.
"Yeah," he says, "I wouldn't mind. It'd be nice to have someone to talk to while I fish."
"Oh. I... have never had someone I could just talk to before."
"What do you mean?"
"Back at my home, I'm a prince," he sighs, "so everyone is intimidated by me because my father is the king. They never want to talk to me in case they anger me or my father, I suppose. And my parents are too busy."
Eskel nods, he knows what that was like. It was just his dad and the three of them, but Lambert was enough work for four parents, never mind one on his own. If Eskel hadn't had Geralt, he would have spent much of his younger life alone.
"Well," he says, "you're welcome to come here. I'd be happy to have company." Jaskier beams at him and Eskel's heart clenches a little. It's been too long since he's had company, he tells himself. "I have a few things to do around the house, but I'll be back shortly if you'd like to wait." Jaskier nods eagerly and just as Eskel calls out to him.
"Wait! I have something for you."
Eskel clambers down the rocks and Jaskier slides over to him, holding out a wreath of dried coral and shells. It's a little damp but holds its shape and Jaskier looks so proud of himself when he gives it to him.
"Thank you," Eskel smiles, "I'll hang it above the fireplace with the first one."
Eskel's chores take altogether too much time and he finds himself skipping over things that aren't necessary and putting jobs aside for later that aren't as important. He shouldn't, but he's eager to get back down to the beach and see Jaskier, even if he can't quite explain why. When everything is finished, he gathers his fishing supplies and makes a lunch to take to the beach with him.
Jaskier is waiting in the shallow water, lying on his stomach and tracing lines in the sand. He looks positively radiant in the afternoon sun, but Eskel finds himself wondering if the sun is good for his skin. He keeps his thoughts to himself and heads down to the beach.
"Hey," he says a little awkwardly and Jaskier perks up. He smiles at Eskel and swipes away the lines in the sand. "I usually go to the end of the rocks, if you want to come?"
"Yes," Jaskier grins and slips back into the water. By the time Eskel makes it to the end of the jut of land, Jaskier is perfectly poised on a flat rock just above the water's edge.
Eskel situates himself and pulls out a worm to hook and Jaskier gives him a funny look.
"What?" Eskel asks, then abruptly realizes Jaskeir has likely never fished like this before. "You put a worm on the hook to attract a fish."
Jaskier wrinkles up his nose at him and then dives soundly into the water. He reappears a moment later with a fish in his hands, offering it up to Eskel where he bobs before him.
"Thank you," Eskel says, trying to avoid the note of confusion in his voice. "You didn't have to."
"I don't mind. Do you need more?"
"No, I-" he wants to tell him no, but Jaskier looks so hopeful that he can't possibly. "If you don't mind?"
"Not at all," Jaskier chirps.
Eskel sets his fishing supplies aside and lies back against the rocks. This time, when Jaskier resurfaces, he comes to lie next to him in the sun. Once Jaskier gets talking, he doesn't stop, but Eskel is happy enough to sit back and listen to him.
It's not until the sun is sinking low in the sky that he realizes how long they've been there. Eskel casts a disappointed look at the fish sitting next to them on the rocks. He'll take them with him anyway because he doesn't want to offend Jaskier, but he's already mentally planning what he's going to eat for supper instead. Only Jaskier follows his gaze and frowns at the fish, picking them up and chucking them back into the water.
"I'll get more," he says and with that, he slips back into the water. He resurfaces only a moment later, holding two fish up to Eskel and smiling almost sadly.
"This was nice," he says and Eskel can't help but smile. He crouches down next to him.
"You're welcome to come back."
"Tomorrow?"
"Any time," Eskel smiles. "Goodnight, Jas-" he stops himself, but Jaskier is already cocking his head at him.
"What?"
"Goodnight," Eskel mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Julian," he offers and Eskel smiles.
"Eskel. Goodnight, Julian."
"Goodnight, Eskel." He turns with a flick of his tail and dives down beneath the surface. For a moment, Eskel watches him, but then the glimmer of his scales fades into the darkness and he's gone.
Julian, he thinks to himself and he can't help but smile.
Julian continues to visit him in the weeks that follow and Eskel finds himself changing up his entire schedule for the time he gets to spend with his new friend. Although more and more often the word friend feels wrong. Because he thinks about Julian even after he's left and he looks forward to seeing him in the morning and he's started whittling little trinkets for him to take home with him.
And Julian tells him more about his people and how they live and Eskel hangs on every word. It's incredible to think there's an entire kingdom practically beneath his feet and he's never known. They talk about everything; Eskel tells him about his brothers and Julian tells him about his family, though he's never very enthusiastic about it.
He shows up every single day and Eskel finds himself hanging on his words, watching the way Julian gestures when he speaks and the way he squirms when he gets too warm sitting out in the sun. He likes to roll off the rocks straight into the water and splash Eskel in the process, once he even pulled him in with him, holding him aloft by wrapping his tail around his legs. And Eskel hasn't been able to stop thinking about that since.
How Julian was warm against him, despite the coolness of the water. How he held him tight and smiled mere inches from his face. Eskel had wanted to lean in, to kiss those plush lips and run his hands through blond, shining hair. He thinks about it still, even as he makes his way down to the rocks. He's packed a lunch and has a carved humpback whale for Julian - Eskel has asked and he'd said they were his favourite. But Julian doesn't come.
Eskel waits and worries and by the time night has fallen and the air has cooled off, he's sure he's done something wrong. Maybe he said something out of place and offended him, or maybe Julian knows how he feels and he's disgusted by it. A sickly feeling swirls in Eskel's gut and he leaves the little carving above the tideline in the hopes Julian will come back during the night.
But when he checks in the morning, the whale is still there and his heart sinks. Surely, he has done something to offend him or Julian would have just said he wouldn't be back. But he didn't and Eskel is alone again. He leaves the carving, in the slim hopes that Julian will still come and collect his final gift, but he's not optimistic.
Night seems to set in early that day and Eskel is tucked into bed long before he normally will be. He can't bear to look out over the ocean tonight knowing Julian is out there and just doesn't want to see him any longer. He buries his head in the pillow and tries to think of anything but Julian and the sea he calls home, but he's surrounded by it, inescapably.
For the next two days, Eskel goes through the motions, wondering how he spent his time before Julian. He's bored, antsy, wishing he had something to do to occupy his mind, but he can't focus on books and his paintings all seem dull and pointless. And he can't even bring himself to look at driftwood again.
But when he can't sleep one night, he climbs out of bed and wanders down to the rocks, wishing he knew how to make this empty feeling stop. But when he gets there, the little whale is gone, replaced by a bottle, soft with the tide and tied neatly with twine. His heart skips a beat and he looks around wildly for any other sign of Julian. There isn't any, but Eskel sits down next to the gift and waits.
He's not sure when he fell asleep, but the next thing he knows it's bright and he opens his eyes to the sun high in the sky and a gull perched on the rock next to him. It flies away when he sits up and next to him, there's a little gasp. He turns to see Julian's head, just peering out of the water and he's so relieved he could cry.
"What are you doing here?" he asks gently, afraid of making things worse.
"I'm sorry I was gone," Julian whispers, "my father found out I've been coming to the surface so often and he was… less than impressed."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"
"Don't apologize," Julian smiles, "I'd rather be here."
"You were gone for so long, I thought I'd done something wrong-"
"Not at all! I would give all of them up for you." Eskel ducks his head, but he sees the light flush that crosses Julian's cheeks and he fumbles into a sitting position.
"You don't mean that," he mumbles. Julian just looks up at him and pushes himself a little further out of the water.
"Come down here and I'll show you," he whispers and he looks so sincere that Eskel couldn't possibly deny him.
He pulls his boots off and slips down to sit on the lower rocks and he sits with his feet in the water. Julian slips beneath the surface but stays close enough that Eskel can watch him swimming toward him. He resurfaces between Eskel's feet, pulling himself onto the rock between his thighs and leans up so they're nose to nose. Eskel's mouth goes dry and he searches Julian's eyes for any sign of hesitation.
"I'd like to kiss you," Julian whispers and Eskel is barely aware that he's nodding before soft lips are pressed to his own, sharp claws gently running through his hair.
When he pulls away, Julian is beaming at him and he leans in for another kiss before humming softly and drawing away again.
"Could I stay here? Nearby, I mean."
"Of course," Eskel says quickly, "but your family-"
"They told me if I came back to you I'd forfeit the crown and my place in the kingdom."
"Then why are you back?" Eskel exclaims. Julian's hand slips to cup Eskel's jaw and he smiles.
For @little-piece-of-tamlin! Because they have just done amazing work for mermay! Beta’d by @natskier!
CW: injury, Jaskier whump
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Jaskier cried out, his voice hoarse from all the screaming. The sun beat down on him, making the golden sand glisten and sparkle, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It should have been a beautiful day above the waves but, as always, Jaskier had managed to get himself in trouble. He’d been following a particularly pretty fish through the shallow waters near the coast and hadn’t noticed the shadow of the boat above his head, looming and menacing and a clear sign of danger. Jaskier had swam right into the fishing net, the little fish escaping through the gaps as Jaskier got caught up. He’d managed to pull the net free from the fisherman, that was his only blessing. Humans were cruel and he didn’t want to be trapped in some tank in a circus, or a freak to be shown by the nobility of the Continent, but he couldn’t swim properly. The netting had caught in his tail, digging under the scales and cutting into his fins with every movement. The ropes had wrapped around his chest and the more he’d tried to get free, the more ensnared he’d become, and in his panic he’d managed to swim ashore, beaching himself in the middle of a hot summer’s day.
And mermaids were not meant to survive above water for any length of time, not without glamours and potions.
“Fucking, cock, shit!” Jaskier whined. His hands were raw and bloody from where he’d been pulling at the ropes but it was no use. He was trapped.
He screamed again, desperately hoping to attract someone’s attention. With the way his skin was starting to burn and his scales were starting to itch and flake, he needed help; soon. He just prayed to the gods that whoever helped him would be kind.
He prayed to the gods that at least someone would find him.
Before it was too late.
“Please,” he sobbed, tears streaming down his face as his eyes fluttered shut. “Help me.”
It hurt.
Everything hurt.
His throat was burning.
He was going to die, stranded on a beach, alone.
“Fuck!” a low gravelly voice shouted, “Are you alright?”
Jaskier whimpered, his eyes snapping open to get a glimpse of his saviour. Light shone in a halo around silver hair and glimmering golden eyes, bouncing off two swords strapped to the man’s back.
A witcher.
“Oh fuck, please don’t kill me,” Jaskier whined. He’d heard stories of witchers, monster slayers and Jaskier was not human. That made him a monster to the race that reigned on the land. “Please, please.”
“Hey,” the witcher said in a low voice, slowly making his way towards Jaskier, shrugging his swords off his back, “I won’t hurt you. I promise. I’m Geralt.”
“Jaskier,” he rasped, “Normally I’d shake your hand but I’m rather tied up at the moment.”
Geralt’s lips quirked up in a small smile and Jaskier wanted to cry, he was so fucking relieved. It was ridiculous, he was dying on the burning hot sand and he was making bloody jokes.
“I can help with that?” Geralt asked, cocking his head and gesturing to the ropes.
Jaskier let out a sigh of relief and nodded. “Please.”
He only shivered a little when Geralt pulled a dagger from its sheath, silver and glinting in the sun. Jaskier had to keep reminding himself that the witcher promised not to hurt him. The dagger was for the ropes, not his throat. The witcher worked methodically but slowly, careful not to nick Jaskier’s skin or scales. When he was free, Geralt let out a low growl.
“You’re hurt.”
Jaskier ran his hand through his hair, scratching the back of his neck. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”
“I have salve?”
Jaskier shook his head. “Help me get back to the water?”
So Geralt hoisted Jaskier into his arms, as strong as all the rumours about witcher suggested but infinitely kinder. Jaskier was almost sad that they’d be parting. Maybe he’d buy a glamour off the local sea witch. He could find Geralt, maybe learn more about these witchers from the source, put a stop to the nasty rumours.
The salt water burned as he was finally dropped back into the water, but it was a relief. He dived under the water swimming happily in circles before breaching the surface. Geralt was squatting on the sand, the waves lapping at his ankles. “Thank you, Geralt.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh don’t pout at me, witcher. You will see me again, I promise,” he said with a wink, and then he turned to dive back under the water before he could change his mind.
