Chapter 7: In the Midst of the Festivities
Jaskier lounged back on the daybed, tossing a grape into his mouth as he worked on his latest poem. Lannamar's sunroom allowed for the perfect amount of light to work. It had been three months since he had come to the castle. Three months since his wolf had ridden off like the gallant hero he was to save his cub. Three months and no word from the witcher on if he ever planned on coming back.
Lannamar had turned out to be an overly generous host. Upon agreeing to write poetry and songs to woo the one he wished to court, the king had given him everything he could ever ask for. He had been provided with the king's favor upon agreeing to this arrangement to win Lady Aurelia's hand.
He ate another grape, glancing down at the deep plum colors he had been decked out in, wearing the colors of the noble line employing him. The clothes were made of the finest silks and satans. He had been preened and pampered...given everything he could ever ask for to inspire his creative mind as he had been tasked with winning the heart of the lady.
Lannamar was courteous. He invited him to dine with him. They shared stories of the court he now found himself part of. It was very easy to distract himself for the real reason he had come here. It was easy to ignore that he was supposed to be looking for signs of his host murdering dozens of women.
It was easy to forget that for a few cosmic days on the road, Geralt had shared his bed. Like all things in his life, it hadn't taken him long to screw that up. In truth, he didn't really even expect him to return. Sure there was his hunt, but there was also the opportunity for the witcher to cut his losses. He had asked Jaskier to go with him. He had asked him to leave, and he had said no.
There really wasn't any going back to being pressed together in some dumpy inn bed after that. He had missed his shot. He had missed a lot of things. It's not as if it wasn't something he was used to. It's not as if he hadn't spent years between meeting up with Geralt in the past. Ciri needed training, and there were plenty of other hunts for murderous fiends. The hunt had always just been an excuse to get Jaskier to start talking to him anyways. He wasn't delusional enough to think any different.
Besides, he rather enjoyed being the person responsible for securing a political union. It was romantic in a sense. He poured all of the things he wanted to say to Geralt into the words he wrote to Princess Aurelia. Aurelia sent back her praise in the form of love letters to Lannamar, and he considered just what the wolf would say to such sentiments being sung into his ear.
He would probably tell him he was stupid...or a simpering moron.
Alas, Jaskier doubted at this point that he would ever get the chance to know. He wondered how Geralt was doing in Kaer Morhen. He wondered if he missed him. He wondered how he could have possibly been so stupid as to let him go.
"Are we ready for the feast tomorrow?" Jaskier was startled out of his conversation as the king waltzed into the room, leaning down to grab for a grape.
"Of course, your majesty," Jaskier agreed cordially. "I daresay once she hears the songs you wrote for her that she'll be powerless to refuse."
Lannamar grinned in approval, sinking down next to him and grabbing for the scrawled out draft. He read over the words to the song, raising an eyebrow before turning gorgeous blue eyes his way. "A bit more maudlin than your normal stuff."
"Perhaps I'm feeling particularly devastating?" Jaskier questioned, not willing to admit how much he had been missing the witcher as he poured his soul into the song for another.
"I wouldn't dream of holding back any of your devastation, Dandelion." Lannamar handed back the paper. "I should be able to propose soon."
"That's the plan," Jaskier agreed. "If everything works out."
"You'll make sure it does." It wasn't said as a request as Lannamar got back to his feet. "I do enjoy your company, but I tire of this cat and mouse game."
"Three months isn't too terribly long for a courtship," Jaskier argued, being more than well aware of the king's need for instant gratification.
"You'll find I can get impatient when I want something," Lannamar's eyes scanned over his form. "I don't like being told no."
Jaskier swallowed nervously, recognizing the lustful stare. He had seen it enough from the patrons at the brothels he sang at. It had been a thing he had been skirting around for weeks now. Weeks while he waited for any sign from Geralt of an end game to this scenario. At this point he figured he was just going to have to go along with the entire plan and get the king engaged to his bride. It's not as if he could slay any terrible beasty that might come his way.
That's what witchers were for.
He would have to tell Geralt whenever he saw him again that he was failing in his duties. Then again, seeing Geralt was a wish of a much less wise man. He had seen that woman the wolf had left with...he always did have a thing for witches.
"I'll attempt not to incur your wrath then," Jaskier managed to the fickle king. "Tell me, my lord, what ever will you do if Lady Aurelia says yes?"
"I'll get married," Lannamar spoke. "Is that not every man's dream?"
Jaskier knitted his eyebrows as he thought about that. Perhaps for some, however… "It's not my dream."
"No?" Lannamar questioned, brow arched. "And what is your dream, Dandelion?" His tone spoke of sincerity, as if the future of some lowly bard actually made a difference to him. ...Honestly, it was probably just because he knew without him he'd never see Aurelia in his bed, let alone his crown.
"Fortune and glory," Jaskier answered without thinking, grinning up at the king as he grabbed for another grape.
"Fortune and glory?" Lannamar questioned. "Are such things truly so important?"
"For some that were not born into such," Jaskier argued, brow twitching at the haughty tone. "For those that have known what it's like to be truly poor in their lives."
"Have you wanted for so much?" the king questioned.
"Have you wanted for anything at all?" Jaskier countered with, holding that dark gaze as he realized his slip and shrugged it off. "I really do have to get back to writing, my lord."
He felt that gaze on him for quite awhile, as if Lannamar were daring him to look up and acknowledge his slight. It made the spot between his shoulders ache with the need to shrug off the atrocity of the sin he had just committed. How dare he question a nobleman of his privilege?
"I'll leave you to it, Dandelion," the king spoke finally. "As long as it's ready by the festivities tonight."
"The festivities?" Jaskier asked. He had known the king was to be inviting a few dignitaries to dine, but he was told nothing about any happenings.
"A feast," Lannamar spoke simply. "In honor of my coming nuptials. You will ensure I have something to celebrate, correct?"
"I wouldn't dream of disappointing you," Jaskier spoke, nodding to him as he popped another grape into his mouth.
"You would dream it," Lannamar argued, reaching for the grapes himself as he bit into one. "But it would be a nightmare for you."
"Noted," Jaskier spoke without humor, keeping his eyes on the eligible bachelor as he walked away. Perhaps he should take a brighter tone with his song? It may very well be the difference between him keeping his head, or him requesting it be sent to Geralt as a well wish for getting him into this mess in the first place.
Jaskier looked out on the crowd as he sang to the masses. The gathering King Lannamar had arranged had devolved into a row of drunken morons...usually Jaskier's favorite. However, he couldn't seem to get over the king's thinly veiled warning. He had to impress…he had to impress or he may very well end up like all of those women Geralt had told him about.
It's not as if he had spent all of his time slacking off and writing. He had explored the castle grounds for any sign that Lannamar might be hiding a secret identity as a murderous psycho. The only clue he had was a locked stairwell in the north tower. Whatever it was sealed with was a formidable match for his lock picking skills...to which he had many of.
It was the best match for a follow-up sleuthing scenario once he ever got the energy to be more productive, and less pissed off that he had been abandoned here like a sack of potatoes. ...A well kept sack of potatoes, mind you, but a sorry sack nonetheless.
Jaskier finished with his set, swinging his lute onto his back as he grabbed for a passing cup of wine. He practically upended it as he didn't realize his thirst. He would have to sing personally to Aurelia soon—if she ever arrived. He would have to sing a song about the one he loved to another, whilst pretending the words had come from someone else. The life of a musician was never uncomplicated.
Finishing his drink, the bard moved through the alcoves to find the servant who had them a plenty just earlier. However, he hadn't really been expecting the hand wrapped around his mouth that yanked him further into the darkness. He bit down hard on the meaty flesh as a second hand wrapped around his neck, lifting him up off the ground and pulling him further away from the party as he screamed into the palm blanketing his mouth.
For his part, he fought for his life. His teeth tore into the flesh of the hand until he could taste blood. He heard a grunt of pain behind him as he was spun around and slammed up against the stone wall. Jaskier's eyes widened almost comically to see a very polished, very pissed off, witcher standing in front of him, staring in disdain at the hand that was now currently dribbling blood on what Jaskier could only assume was a very expensive rug.
"Well," Geralt started, frowning as he reached out to Jaskier's doublet and yanked on a silk handkerchief. "At least I know you're not easily kidnapped."
"Geralt…" Jaskier spoke, voice beyond stunned as he took in his immaculately groomed appearance.
"Hmm," Geralt agreed, finishing wrapping his wound.
"Geralt…" he repeated, feeling awestruck with just how much he had missed him. "What are you doing here?"
"I happen to have misplaced an annoying bard. You haven't seen him anywhere, have you?" Geralt questioned, half smirk coming to his face. "Watch yourself if you do see him. He tends to bite."
"How did you get in?" Jaskier questioned, mind running with a million scenarios of how they were going to have to take off running due to the pile of dead bodies.
"It's a party," Geralt reminded him, motioning back toward the thrum of bodies in the great hall. "It was easy to just walk in."
Jaskier nodded slowly. "You came back."
"Course I came back," Geralt snapped almost instantaneously. The voracity actually took Jaskier off guard as he tilted his head to stare up at the brute as he stepped closer. "What do you mean by such a statement? Did you think I would leave you here?"
He shrugged to the question, not realizing how relieved he was to have his wolf back. ...To know he had come back. "I never know what to think when it comes to you." He didn't—not when it came to Geralt. "Though I suppose…" he trailed off, not wanting to say the words he knew to be true.
Geralt frowned at him, stepping even closer as he pushed him against the wall, causing the bard's breath to hitch. "You suppose?" He grabbed at his chin with his injured hand, tilting it up to meet those eerie yellow eyes. "What do you suppose, bard?"
Jaskier swallowed, his throat bobbing as inexplicable need passed through him to feel the body pressed up against him again. "The hunt," he spoke softly. Geralt had left the hunt half complete. Of course he would return for it. Of course he would find a convenient way to get in now that Jaskier had gotten him the info he needed.
"The hunt?" Geralt repeated, voice a thin veil of anger as those eyes seemed to brighten in their intensity. "That the only reason, Jas? The only reason why you think I'm here?"
"I don't…" Jaskier started, getting cut off as Geralt pulled at his hair.
"You're such a fucking idiot," his wolf barked at him, before yanking him forward and against his lips.
Jaskier moaned into the harsh kiss, opening up immediately to the forceful tongue pushing its way inside. Geralt tasted like ale and meat, and it made him ache to be back on the road with him. To be with him… He kissed back, forgetting the part where he was supposed to be angry yet again with his witcher for being abandoned. He forgot everything besides the way those arms wrapping around him made him feel.
Geralt pulled away from his now bruised lips, staring down at him in intensity as his emotions seemed to be practically bubbling over. "I don't give a fuck about the hunt. I didn't want you to go. Don't you understand? Don't you get it by now?"
He did. He understood. Jaskier had felt the overwhelming blackness that came from being apart from the one he ached for. ...If Geralt cared at all he knew he had at least felt some of that blackness. "Why can't you say it?" Why couldn't he just say he missed him? Why couldn't he just put him out of his misery?
The witcher frowned at the implication, and Jaskier grunted as he was spun around and forced against the wall, Geralt's hands covering his as he forced them up above his head. "I can't wait Jas...not for this."
He was about to ask what this was, but he needn't have bothered as desperate hands came to this strings fastening his very expensive pants. Geralt's mouth found his neck as those fingers deftly made fast work of the hindering ties. "Do you mind if I take you, Jas?" Geralt breathed against his skin, biting just under his pulse. 'Do you care if I hurt you?' Were the words left unspoken between them as Geralt ripped down his pants.
"No." He never minded much at all, did he?
A hand wrapped around him, and Jaskier moaned as he was pumped to full hardness, having already been semi aroused the instant his wolf had pressed him to the wall. He heard rustling behind him, and felt Geralt rub himself between his cheeks, precum wetting the area as that talented mouth lapped at his pulse.
Jaskier gritted his teeth in pain as the head of Geralt's cock breached his unprepared entrance. He felt Geralt hesitate before pushing all the way in, opening his eyes to see those yellow pools brimming with concern. "I don't want to hurt you."
But he always did, didn't he?
"It's alright, wolf," Jaskier assured him. "I missed you too, you know?" Because this was what the urgency was about, wasn't it? Geralt not being able to speak the words they both knew were lingering between them. ...Geralt not being able to curb his desires at seeing him again.
Lips were once more pressed to his, swallowing up his cries as Geralt pulled his hips back and pressed into the hilt. Jaskier ignored the pain, focused more on the almost delicate way Geralt kissed him all the way forcing his hips against the wall to give himself a better angle to thrust. The juxtaposition was jarring in his mind as he splayed his fingers to support himself as the white wolf truly began to move inside of him.
Jaskier was used to the rough and tumble routine from Geralt, and so this came as no surprise. He actually preferred it as he canted his hips back to meet every desperate thrust as the angle shot pleasure straight down to his toes.
Each thrust brought Jaskier closer and closer to the brink as the hands wrapped around his hips clawed at him in an almost desperate frustration...as if they were still separated...as if Geralt couldn't get close enough.
"More…" Jaskier panted, ignoring the warm wetness between his legs at the vigor of the thrusts. Geralt pulled out, growling in need as he spun Jaskier back around, not hesitating in lifting him up so they were face to face and he could push deeper.
Taking the hint, he wrapped his legs around those muscled hips, practically keening at how deep Geralt's cock pressed inside him as he desperately fought to get back to those lips while his arms wrapped around his neck.
"Geralt…" he breathed, eyes locked in the demonic ones of his witcher as his heels dug into the meat of his lower back. "I'm close...I'm…" He was quieted once more as his mouth was claimed, those hips speeding up as they were both lost in the throes of passion. "Geralt!" Jaskier screamed, breaking away from the mouth as he exploded between them.
He forgot all about where they were. He forgot that Geralt had ripped him into a dark corner of a booming party. He forgot everything beyond the feeling of those strong muscles tightening and a warm wetness filling his insides.
Geralt set him down, and his entire body shuddered at the feeling of him pulling out. His eyes were shut in bliss as the witcher reached towards him, yanking his pants back up over his thin hips and doing up the ties. ...For propriety's sake he imagined. Though at the moment he couldn't be bothered to care as he panted in his fucked out bliss.
"Bard," Geralt managed, and Jaskier slowly opened his eyes to meet that smiling face. "I missed you."
Jaskier felt an exhausted grin spread across his face, his stomach tightening into knots as he could feel his witcher's desire run down his leg. "How much?"
"Enough to scale a wall to get in here," Geralt admitted, voice placating and filled with an almost irritated fondness as his hands found his hips, pulling him off the wall and close.
"They didn't actually let you into the party?" Jaskier questioned, eyes half lidded as Geralt's rough thumbs stroked along his hips.
"No bard," Geralt confirmed slowly, amusement in his tone. "They did not let me into the party."
"Proving that King Lannamar has standards," he teased, sighing as his lips were gently kissed. It was hard to wrap his mind around just how deeply he belonged to this man.
"He has more things than I dare to let him keep," Geralt assured him. "Including his life if he truly is the culprit."
"That's almost romantic," Jaskier mused, fingers playing with the combed out white mane. "I didn't know you had it in you."
"Talking about murdering a man is romantic to you?" Geralt questioned. "We really must raise your standards."
"No wolf, you wouldn't want that," he assured him. "I'd be much less likely then to let you bugger me in an alcove."
Geralt's shoulders shook slightly with laughter. "Well...we can't very well have that."
Jaskier's face split into a wider smile as he leaned in close for another kiss. "No, we can't have that…" he breathed, barely an inch from his mouth.
"Dandelion!" Jaskier's eyes widened at the sound of the voice, pushing Geralt instinctively away as he looked down at himself and the state of his clothes and the position he had been caught in as the King rushed his way.
"My Lord, I apologize. I was just saying hi to an old friend." The cover story was weak, and he knew anyone looking at the both of them could clearly realize what had transpired. Still...he wasn't really expecting the arm that wrapped around his forearm and yanked him over to the king.
"The guests heard a cry. I thought you were being murdered back here when I couldn't find you for the song." Lannamar frowned as he looked him up and down, before his eyes traveled over to Geralt. "You're a witcher."
"You're observant," Geralt countered with, and Jaskier noticed how tight his jawline had become. "Take your hands off him."
Lannamar's eyes shot up his forehead at the bold statement. "I am the king. You can't talk to me in such a manner."
Geralt's teeth were gritted as he shook his head. "You're not my king." Jaskier grunted as the witcher grabbed his other arm and yanked him back towards him. In any other scenario he'd be offended about being treated like a ragdoll being torn between two fighting siblings. As it was, he was just hoping Geralt's temper didn't get them both killed.
"Be that as it may," Lannamar spoke. "He is employed to sing at this feast. A position that he is currently not fulfilling." The king glanced his way, shaking his head in disgust. "A witcher, Dandelion? Have you no standards?" Jaskier opened his mouth to reply, but it didn't seem the king was interested in how his standards were measured. "How did you get in here in the first place? I should have you thrown out."
"You could try," Geralt agreed, nose curling in distaste. "But I wouldn't recommend it." He upturned his bandaged hand, motioning to the party. "Shall we head back to the festivities so that the bard can fulfill his obligations?"
"Why would I let you around my court?" Lannamar questioned, eyes narrowed to slits. "Even if you did try to clean yourself up beyond the brute you actually are."
"You shouldn't," Geralt agreed. "Yet, I'm going to just the same." Geralt walked out of the alcove without a second thought, never one to quake in front of any man...not even a king.
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A.N- Whoahhhhhhhh Is that an update? I think it may very well be. With all the talk surrounding Season 2, I couldn't very well let this story die. Hope you enjoyed the new chapter and that my writing wasn't too rusty. Geralt finally showing a bit of emotion...like a bit...if you squint….