A continuation of ideas on this post:
Ok but hear me out...... Jaskier as an Old God. Just decided one day to see what the tiny, insignificant humans were up to on the tiny insig
Geralt isn’t dumb, especially when it comes to monsters. So he knows right away that Jaskier isn’t human. One hint? He doesn’t have a heartbeat. But the medallion stays cold and still on his chest, so he’s not sure what to think. So he lets him follow him at Posada in hopes that he can take this ‘man’ down outside of town.
But then Jaskier doesn’t try to hurt him. Geralt is still suspicious, but he knows that not all non-humans are evil. So he decides to let him tag along. If this not-quite-human bard isn’t going to harm him, what’s the use of shaking him off? He convinces himself that it’s to keep an eye on Jaskier.
So Jaskier follows along behind him, showing very few evil tendencies. And if he gets stabby sometimes with unruly bar goers? Geralt has seen worse from people.
Sure, Geralt wonders what Jaskier is, but after a couple years it’s uncomfortable to bring it up. But he should have known that Yennefer would not leave it alone.
They’ve known each other for over 20 years, and had been traveling with Yennefer and Ciri for at least three when Yennefer starts asking questions.
“What even are you?” Her violet gaze is sharp, staring at the bard across the table from her, who only clicks his tongue at her tone.
“Come on sorceress, didn’t your little school of witches teach you that it’s rude to ask those kinds of questions?” He traces the outline of a burn on the tabletop. “How about a game? You have to guess.”
Yennefer likes games like this. And she knew monsters, so she was confident that she would get it in the next hour.
Vampire? No. Were? No. Djinn? A laugh. No. Doppler? No. A particularly attractive kikomora? Are you even trying? No.
It goes on for years. Ciri grows up, becomes a sorceress and a powerful Witcher. She joins in on the game, but they never guess. Geralt never chimes in, happy to just sit back and let the sorceress throw out every guess she can conceive of.
Sylvan? Rude! Dragon? Close! Wyvern? Wrong way!
It’s almost another 20 years of this before Jaskier gives them a hint. And what a hint it is.
The beast - Jaskier - like a dragon but so much more, is standing over them. The claws on his front feet are as long as Ciri is tall, and he ducks his massive head to bring one of his many blue eyes level with Yennefer and Geralt. They struggle to gaze back for longer than a few seconds at a time, and can feel the chaos that he is made of calling to them.
The eyes cover his face and stretch down his neck, only stopping at the mane of writhing tentacles that cover his shoulders and part of his back.
Jaskier’s massive head tilts at them, and Geralt can see the laugher in his eyes. His throat has gone dry, and he drops to his knees as the voice of the man he loves - deeper and heavier, but still Jaskier, rumbles through his mind.
“I’ll give you one more guess, little sorceress. What am I?”
