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Geralt had fallen. Hard. He hadn’t expected to enjoy this journey as much as he did when they had started out, but he also hadn’t counted on you. The Witcher normally didn’t do escort jobs, but he and Jaskier had been short on coin and it had seemed fairly easy, so he’d agreed to take it. You were fairly agreeable as well; you didn’t complain, you helped with tasks around the camp, and Roach liked you, so obviously you were good to have along.
When the three of you had started out on your journey (Jaskier had come with you, proclaiming something about beautiful ladies being angry), you had been very quiet. The bard would try to draw you into conversations but you would just give him a small smile and deftly avoid the question or comment. Geralt had noticed this but didn’t do anything about it, figuring you were wary of the pair or perhaps that you thought yourself above them. He knew you came from a well-off family, but your title hadn’t been disclosed to them. You were travelling for a business deal, finalizing a contract between your two families. As your small group had departed in the middle of the night, the Witcher couldn’t help feeling suspicious of the true nature of the arrangement. For safety, he was told; a rival family had been after you recently, wanting the benefits of this deal for themselves. This didn’t sit right with him, but the coin was good, so he pushed the feeling aside.
After watching you for a few days, Geralt had decided you weren’t a threat. Sure, you were quiet, but you had started engaging with the pair and were always keen to help out. He shrugged before pushing you to the back of his mind, content that the next few weeks should be fairly easy and he would get decent pay out of it.
His assessment of you was shaken about two weeks into the journey. You had relaxed around them, even starting to respond to Jaskier’s gentle attempts to include you. The bard had been delighted at your responses, slowly working his way under your skin. You were funny, you had little quips that you would fire back at him followed by your clear laugh ringing through the air. Geralt had thought that maybe he would have had to keep him away from you but Jaskier had been on his best behavior, not going past any mild flirting. The Witcher had chalked it up to the fact Jaskier was respecting that Geralt was travelling with them as well, not wanting to suffer the Witcher’s silent glare he directed at the bard whenever he engaged in a tryst within earshot.
Though still wary, Geralt gradually grew to realize he enjoyed your company. Your laugh would coax a faint smile out of him; you left gentle touches on his shoulder as you passed him while setting up camp. He was astounded; normally nobles were disgusted by him, not wanting to get too close. You were different though: this was the most relaxed that Geralt had seen you since the journey had started.
What really transformed his opinion of you was when Geralt had awoken in the middle of the night to hear you crying. You had tried to keep quiet, muffling the sounds into your blanket as you sobbed. He hadn’t moved, not wanting to let you know that he was awake to overhear your misery. This happened this next several days: Geralt waking up to hear you crying softly to yourself. He never addressed it, only making sure that a plate of food was ready for you, gently pushing it in your direction. He was met with puffy, red rimmed eyes and a wet smile, a soft murmur of thanks occasionally accompanying them.
Geralt tried to push one day, asking you about where you were traveling and the real reason behind it. He didn’t know why he cared, but something wasn’t sitting right with him, and maybe he enjoyed your company and didn’t like seeing you so sad. Obviously this wasn’t just a regular business deal; an ordinary contract wouldn’t drive you to tears nearly every night. You had dodged the questions, giving generic answers that sounded like they had been memorized, as if for a test. When he asked about the details of the business deal, you shut down. You offered him a tight smile before announcing that the group needed more wood and disappearing into the trees. Jaskier had sent a glance at the Witcher, confused by your mood. “What was that about?”
Geralt could only offer a shrug, unable to answer the bard’s question. The two continued staring at the fire, letting their sore muscles relax after the long day of travel. The quiet was broken by a sudden scream. Geralt shot to his feet, sprinting into the woods before he had consciously decided to move and cursing himself for letting you go off on your own.
As he raced through the forest, he could hear the clash of steel on steel, punctuated by shouting, the sounds of a fight reaching him through the trees. He skidded to a stop in a clearing, sword in hand. As he frantically searched the area, a flash of light alerted him to a blade swinging for his head. He spun to the side, knocking the sword away and down with his own as he came face to face with you, wild-eyed as you dropped your weapon at the sight of him. He had forgotten that you wore a sword.
The Witcher gaped at you as Jaskier came running in behind him, the stunned silence that had fallen over the clearing broken by your sobs as tears spilled from your eyes. Jaskier was quick to wrap you in an embrace, shushing you as he ran a hand soothingly through your hair, supporting you as you sagged towards the ground. Geralt didn’t relax, sharp gaze scanning the clearing in an effort to determine what had happened. His confusion rose as he saw three bodies scattered across the ground, clearly having been dispatched by a blade.
It wasn't often that the Witcher was surprised. You were clearly competent with a sword; he couldn’t think of any other explanation for the three dead men and the bloodied blade you had dropped. Trusting Jaskier to look after you, he moved cautiously towards the men, kneeling next to the first one as he searched the body for clues that would give an indication of who had attacked you and why. As he looked at the uniform the first man was wearing, he recognized the Vaithan crest, a kingdom across the river from the one you had left. Sparing a glance at the other two, his frown grew as he saw the same uniforms adorning them. Why were Vaithan soldiers after you? Why were the royal guards getting involved in a business deal?
Investigation finished, Geralt approached the pair, drawing Jaskier’s attention as he neared. He gestured back towards your campsite, the bard understanding his silent request as he nudged you to a standing position, pulling you against himself to help support you. You stumbled along, eyes glassy as your breath hitched in short, shallow gasps.
Reaching your things, Geralt helped Jaskier get you onto the ground, busying himself with cleaning your sword as the other man continued to soothe you before turning his attention to the fire. His mind was whirling, confused thoughts surrounding you and the reasons behind your journey. There were people after you, that was clear, but he didn’t understand why. He was just adding more wood to stoke the flames when Jaskier’s low voice broke into his thoughts. The tone that the bard had used aroused concern in him.
“Geralt, can you come take a look at this?” As the Witcher approached, Jaskier held his arm out, hand covered in blood. Geralt’s heart shot into his mouth, panicked as he rushed towards the bard, hands darting out as he searched the man for the wound he had to have sustained.
“Geralt, Geralt! I’m fine! Geralt!” The bard was shouting at the man, slapping his hands away from his body. “It’s not mine!”
The Witcher froze as the words registered in his mind before turning his attention to you. He slowly moved to your other side, noting how your eyes were distant, chest labouring as you struggled for breath. Following Jaskier’s directions, he quickly cut away the bloodied cloth - how did he not notice this before, he should have smelled the scent of blood on you - to reveal a deep gash on the back of your upper arm. Jaskier maintained a tight grip on the wound, keeping the flow to a minimum as Geralt retrieved his healing supplies. A salve was quickly applied before stitches were put into the wound and a bandage wrapped around the arm. You were unresponsive throughout the Witcher’s ministrations, the man having to gently move you to get access to your wound. As the first stitch went in you flinched, before remaining motionless as he continued. He could hear your breaths hitching as he worked, heart pulling at your unresponsiveness.
After coaxing a sleeping potion into you, the pair put you to bed, Geralt drawing a blanket over your shoulders as a heavy feeling settled in his gut at your stillness. He listened attentively, reassured by the sound of your thumping steadily in his ears as he watched your chest rise and fall. He told himself it was because of the job: it was his responsibility to keep you safe, there was nothing else behind the concern that he felt for you.
**~*~*~*~**
You were a little groggy the next morning, not quite functioning at one hundred percent. Geralt found it fucking funny, you were normally so put together that seeing you lost was a little bit endearing. You looked like a puppy, wide eyed and pouting. He helped you throughout the day, making sure you ate breakfast, redressing your wound, and keeping you on Roach with him while Jaskier rode your horse. He kept this up throughout the next few days, even as you started being able to do things yourself. Something in his chest would soften, a tightly coiled knot tugged loose when you would smile shyly up at him and quietly thank him, and Geralt found himself doing more for you just to draw them out.
Once you had healed, he tentatively asked if you wanted to practice your swordwork. You were clearly competent (you had taken down three grown men on your own, after all) but he wanted to make see for himself. Knowing you were smaller than him and weren’t as strong, Geralt decided he would tone it down a little bit to give you a fighting chance. Little did he know that you had been trained by one of the best swordmasters in your kingdom, maybe the continent. You had been the youngest of five daughters, so your father had treated you like the son he never had. You had been allowed to run rampant, joining him on hunts and practicing swordplay. This had left you a free spirit, never content to sit through the stuffy business deals your family conducted. This was the most fun you had had in a long time.
Without the knowledge that you were an extremely well trained swordswoman, Geralt held himself back as he faced off against you. Much to his surprise he quickly found himself on his back, your sword at his throat. Looking up to see a cocky grin on your face, clearly pleased with how quickly you had overcome him, he felt a flash of admiration and something else burn through him. The scent of pride drifted through the air towards him, pushing him over the edge. He growled low in his throat as he knocked your blade away, leaping to his feet as he grabbed for his sword, throwing himself completely into sparring as you recovered from the surprise, a feral laugh bursting out of your chest. As you held your own against him, Geralt felt proud, and a little bit excited he had finally found someone who could keep up with him.
The fight ended as Geralt twisted his blade, sending yours flying across the clearing. He was reversing it to bring to your throat, caught off guard as you launched yourself at him with a shout, wrestling him for the sword as you tackled him to the ground. The blade was quickly lost as you rolled through the grass, your breathless giggles warming Geralt’s heart. He ended up on top of you, arms on either side of your head as he supported his body over yours. You grinned up at him, chest heaving, clearly pleased with your performance. Your expression slowly changed to something else, something more intense that the Witcher couldn’t read as your scent changed. It was a pleasant mixture, light and airy, not something he normally smelt, a sharp scent mixed in that he couldn’t identify. He could hear your heart racing in your chest as you gazed up at him, lips parted as you remained relaxed beneath him.
He didn’t know what came over him as his eyes flicked down to your lips and back up before leaning down, your breath mixing with his as he got closer. Abruptly, Jaskier’s loud voice boomed through the clearing, startling the two of you as Geralt rolled to his feet, sticking a hand out to help you up. He could see a light blush dusting your cheeks as you fixed your clothes, refusing to look at him. Disappointment and embarrassment drifted through the air, confusing the Witcher before he shook himself, turning to see a slightly inebriated bard stumbling through the trees. Your attention was quickly taken as you fussed over Jaskier, forcing water and some herbs into him before you put him to bed. As you did this, Geralt kept catching the glances you sent his way, charged with something that he couldn’t identify.
As the days went on, you relaxed further with the two, starting to show physical affection to the both of them. Jaskier was given playful swats whenever he would tease you, accompanied by your laugh as you quipped something back at him. Geralt found he wanted to see the smiles sent his way, rather than the bard’s, though he was not without your attention. You gifted the Witcher with gentle lingering touches, your hand resting on his shoulder or his arm as you would slip past him. Sometimes, you would cajole the man to sit in front of you as you carefully brushed and braided his hair, working loose the tangles formed during one of your sparring sessions or a hunt.
You were still being hunted, but now that Geralt knew it was Vaithan soldiers after you it was easy to evade them. He had worked with them before, so he was familiar with their patrol patterns and tracking methods. He would lay false trails for them, sending them on wild goose chases through the wilderness. Occasionally they would catch up to the small group, but between you and Geralt they were quickly dispatched. The aftermath was filled with gentle touches from you or the Witcher, the other sitting quietly through their ministrations. There were no serious wounds; the two of you quickly learned each other’s fighting styles and adapted to complement each other. Often there were no wounds to be found, just sore muscles to be attended to.
As you got more comfortable in the Witcher’s presence, you started teasing him as well. Nicknames like ‘the big bad wolf’ or ‘big bad witcher’ started to be commonplace in your vocabulary. He would tease you back, calling you ‘flower’ or ‘little duck’. If he was particularly annoyed with you, ‘princess’ would appear. You had flinched the first time he called you that, before firing back a particularly clever quip, drawing Jaskier in as well. You didn’t flinch the second time, but Geralt didn’t often use that nickname, sensing there was something else behind it.
When you were close to towns Jaskier started finding reasons to leave the two of you alone. It was awkward at first, but you quickly fell into a rhythm. There was a lot of teasing that slowly fell into a companionable silence, which you sometimes filled with your chatter. It often ended with you tucked into Geralt’s side, tracing patterns into his knee as you stared at the fire. His fingers would fidget, tapping different rhythms onto your skin. It was nice, Geralt thought, having someone to share the silence with. Jaskier never shut up, but he was also just a friend. You, you were different, maybe more than a friend. As he came to this realization, he looked down to find you staring up at him, emotion swimming in your eyes.
The air felt charged, as if he was being drawn to you. The world stopped as he drowned in your eyes, pulled into their Y/E/C depths as he slowly leaned down, your eyes fluttering shut but not releasing him from their spell as he pressed his lips against yours, breath mingling as you sighed into him. You shifted, turning your body into him as one hand found his chest while the other fisted into his hair. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards him. You went willingly, allowing yourself to be moved so that you were straddling his thighs, leaning into his chest as your lips moved against his. He only pulled back when he needed air, your chest heaving as you leaned your forehead against him. He opened his eyes to see a smile, face serene as you caught your breath. As if you felt his gaze on you your eyes opened to meet his. He felt as if he was caught within your gaze, peace filling him, feeling as if he was finally able to get air after drowning for so long.
You giggled as you lay your head on his chest, draping yourself against him. “This is nice,” you murmured, wrapping your arms around his middle as you went boneless against him.
Geralt hummed in agreement, liking the warm feeling that came over him at the feeling of your body on his. He tightened his arms around your waist, holding you close. He could smell your pleasure drifting through the air, encouraging him to nuzzle into your hair.
“I wish I could stay like this forever, in this moment with you.” You pulled back slightly, looking at the man with a genuine expression on your face. “I really do care for you, Geralt. Thank you.”
Your hand came up to cup his cheek and he leaned into it, keeping his eyes on you. His lips quirked upwards before he leaned forward, capturing your lips again. This kiss was messy, a battle of tongue and teeth as he nipped your bottom lip, exploring your mouth with his tongue when you gasped at the sensation. His hands roamed downwards, finding a place on your ass as you moaned into his mouth. He swallowed the sounds, chasing you until one of your hands tangled itself into his hair, pulling on the strands. He growled at the feeling, kissing and nipping down your neck as you gasped, grinding down on him.
You tilted your head back, granting him better access to your throat. A rush of adrenaline ran through him at that motion; he didn’t want you baring your throat for any other man, you were his. Overcome by the desire to claim, he bit down on tender, supple skin, sucking a mark into the hollow above your collarbone. You yelped at the action, tugging at his hair again. Your breath stuttered as you managed to gasp his name, “Ger- Geralt, I can’t.”
He growled again, pleased that he had reduced you to this. He moved to your other side, biting at your shoulder, groaning as you jerked against him. “Geralt, stop, please-”
At the sound of your pleading voice, some sort of warning went off, forcing him to think rather than acting on his baser instincts. He drew back, pausing at the look on your face. He couldn’t smell the bitter scent of fear, but you looked nervous. You were flushed, lips swollen from his attention, but your eyes held a hidden emotion. Frowning, he ran a hand through your hair as you refused to meet his gaze. “I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean - Sorry, I just-”
He halted your stuttering as he pressed a chaste kiss against your lips, knot loosening in his chest as you melted against him, returning the kiss fiercely. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t ask. Forgive me, little duck.”
You smiled before tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “I do- want to- I just, I’ve never...” Again, he shushed you, one hand rubbing patterns into your back as the other tightened around your waist.
“I have all the time in the world for you. We’ll take it slow.”
**~*~*~*~**
After that night, you were much more tactile with the Witcher. Most nights found you in his lap, relaxing into his embrace as you wildly told a story from your childhood, Jaskier in stitches next to you. You started pulling your bedroll closer to his, inching it closer night by night. The bard had finally had enough of your bullshit, marching over and picking up your bedroll only to lay it next to Geralt’s as he shot a knowing look at the two of you. You had blushed at that, refusing to look at either man for a little while. You hadn’t moved it back though, and the next morning you had woken up with your legs tangled in Geralt’s, head on his chest as he held you tucked against him.
You stole kisses from him throughout the day, leaving gentle touches on his arms as you passed him. You let Jaskier ride your horse, choosing instead to stay with Geralt, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you as you travelled. You continued your training bouts, though they often ended in fierce makeout sessions rather than actual fighting. It was a good life, and you were happy with what you had. You could almost forget about your destination, about the actual reason for your travelling, the one that neither man knew about.
Almost.
**~*~*~*~**
As the small trio got closer to their destination, you grew tenser and quieter, shrinking into yourself as you withdrew from the pair. Jaskier tried to draw you out of your shell, but his best attempts weren’t enough. Geralt pressed you, trying to understand why you were suddenly pulling away, frustrated at the lack of response. One night, when Jaskier had left the two of you alone, Geralt confronted you about what was happening.
“Y/N, I don’t understand. What’s wrong?” Geralt had knelt in front of you, effectively trapping you as you would have had to step over and around him to escape. You couldn’t meet his gaze as you responded.
“Nothing is wrong, Geralt, I am merely preparing for when I meet my betrothed.” At your words, it felt like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over the Witcher, dousing him in the reality of your situation. He had forgotten you were a noble, seeming to enjoy playing games with those you considered beneath you. And play you had, leading Geralt on as he escorted you to your marriage. You weren’t any different than the rest of them.
“Your betrothed.” He saw you flinch at his flat tone, face dropping as you realized your misstep. “I see. This was all just a game to you, something to keep your mind occupied while we travelled.”
Geralt stood, turning his back to and walking away. He closed his eyes at your sharp inhale, could hear your heart rate increase as you stumbled to your feet, chasing after him. “I will get you to your destination, and then after that I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Geralt, no , it’s not like that, you don’t understand- I would never-” He shrugged your hand off as you reached for his arm, turning to face you with a look of rage on his face. You recoiled at that action, face shocked as you pulled your hand to your chest. His heart sunk at the fear on your face, he could smell the acrid scent diffusing into the air, but he pushed it to the back of his mind. He wouldn’t let you continue with this little game.
“What don’t I understand, princess ?” he near-snarled, sneering when you flinched at the nickname. “I think it’s pretty straightforward. I was supposed to be escorting you to your wedding , and you’ve played my heart. I lo--I cared for you, I let you in. I don’t do that, never do that. But I did for you and you played me like a fucking string . Well, I thank you, princess, for illuminating that fact for me. I will make sure to never do this again.”
He turned away, fist clenching at his side as he controlled himself. He started walking away from you, pausing as he heard you let out a sob and fall to the ground, voice breaking as you screamed at him. “That’s what you don’t understand, that fucking nickname ! It’s haunted me my entire life, and you were the only one who saw it for what it was, a nickname, not my fucking title!”
His heart clenched at the heartbreak clear in your voice. He closed his eyes, inhaling deepling through his nose as he fought to keep himself from running to you, wanting nothing more than to take the agony out of your voice. Cautiously, he glanced over his shoulder, seeing you on your knees, tears streaming down your cheeks. “Princess,” you spat, a vicious expression on your face. “I never wanted to be a princess, I hated being a princess. I forgot, Geralt, you let me forget that that’s what I was! I could be normal with you, you and Jaskier, who didn’t care about the pomp and celebration. You wanted nothing from me. I could let my guard down around you and just be myself! I didn’t, I don’t want this marriage, it’s the last thing I would do if I had the choice! But I’ll never escape it, Geralt, they will chase me down and lock me away, dress me up in fancy clothes and keep me a prisoner in that damn castle. I only want to stay with you.”
Your voice broke on the last word as sobs ripped their way out of your throat, finally releasing the misery and anguish that had been building up over the last few weeks. Geralt was left reeling; you were a princess? Fuck, that explained so much. He had known there was more to this business deal than what it appeared to be: this was a political marriage. You clearly didn’t want it, not that you seemed to have a choice. Geralt was torn: you had lied to him, yes, but it was clear you hadn’t wanted to or done it with any ill intentions. He hung his head, trying to figure out what he wanted to do. You sounded so miserable, all he wanted to do was wrap you up in his arms and protect you from the hardships of the world.
He cautiously approached you, heart breaking at the gut wrenching sobs that were being torn from your chest. He slowly knelt in front of you, reaching a hand out to place under your chin, drawing your gaze up to his. You met his eyes and Geralt could see the pain that was swimming behind your irises. His voice was soft when he spoke, though still reserved. “I believe you.”
At his words, you launched yourself forwards, catching him off guard as your momentum pushed him backwards to land on his backside, you clutched to his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” you babbled, words streaming out of you as you clutched at his clothing, trying desperately to get as close as you could.
He shushed you, arms pulling you closer as he tucked your head beneath his chin. He slowly rocked you, listening to the sound of your heartbeat as he examined his memories of the last few weeks, finding only fondness and warmth; he couldn’t find anything that would suggest you were doing this to hurt him. He could hear your laugh in his ears and it sounded genuine. The sobs that were forcing their way out of you were undoubtedly real, and Geralt found he didn’t want you to hurt anymore, only wanting to protect you. He dropped a kiss on the top of your head, hand releasing you to rub patterns into your back, soothing you as he continued his gentle circling motion.
You quieted after several minutes, hiccuping as you tried to pull away. Geralt held on a moment longer, tightening his grip before rearranging you so that you were seated sideways in his lap, legs draped over his thigh as your shoulder rested against his chest. He held you loosely, arms draped around your waist as he waited for you to speak. “I’m sorry, Geralt, that I didn’t tell you the truth. I’ll understand if you want me to finish this journey by myself, if you don’t want to see me again. I’ll still give you your coin, you’ve escorted me most of the way there.”
Geralt was stunned; that was the last thing he had expected you to say. As the meaning of the words registered, he found that he didn’t want to leave you, that he didn’t want to say goodbye. It was a new feeling, a knot loosened in his chest as something pleasant warmed him from his toes up to his head. He tightened his grip on you, drawing a squeak as he growled, “I’m not letting you go anywhere, little duck.”
Your breath hitched as you stared up at him, puffy eyes filled with hope. “You don’t hate me?” Your voice was small, hesitant as you spoke.
The Witcher looked down at you, hand reaching up to brush a strand of your hair behind your ear. Leaning down, he brushed his lips against yours, smiling when you sighed into his mouth and melted into his chest. Your hands came up to fist into his shirt, just resting against him. He drew away slowly, hesitant to see the look in your eyes. One of your hands came up to cup his cheek, and he instinctively turned his face into the warmth, nuzzling your palm as he pressed into the touch. You smiled up at him, eyes soft as a whispered “thank you” fell from your lips. You curled into him, hands back on his chest as you slowly drifted, Geralt holding you against him as you fell asleep.
This was how Jaskier found the two of you a while later, a soft smile appearing on his face. When he opened his mouth to say something, Geralt growled at him. “Not a word, bard.”
Jaskier held his hands up in surrender, turning away to set up his bedroll with a smirk on his face.
**~*~*~*~**
The next two days were sad but gentle, the two of you trying to steal away as many moments together as you could before you had to leave. The Witcher had suggested not delivering you to the castle, but you had smiled sadly as you shook your head. Reaching up to run your fingers down his cheek, you had explained that you had tried to run away before, only to be hunted down and returned to your parents. After that, you hadn’t been allowed to be alone, always having a servant or guard watching you to make sure you stayed. Even before you left, your mother had warned you that if you didn’t uphold your end of the marriage, you wouldn’t have a moment of peace; you would be hunted until you were found and returned to your betrothed’s side.
As the castle came into view, you requested a brief respite. Geralt had frowned at you as you untied a bag from your saddle, but you only offered him a tight smile before slipping into the woods. Jaskier had glanced over at the Witcher, a question on his lips, but Geralt had only shrugged, an expression that said I’m just as confused as you are on his face. It had been several minutes since you had disappeared, and Geralt shifting nervously as you still didn’t reappear. He had just made up his mind, dismounting to go after you when you appeared in the trees, the sight of you making Geralt’s heart stop.
You had changed out of your travelling clothes into a magnificent dress. The dress itself was made out of fine silk, the colour complimenting your Y/E/C eyes. It fell to your ankles, soft slippers peeking out from beneath the hem. Your sleeves ended just past your elbows, fine lace forming a ruffle along the ends. The collar draped across your chest, sleeves just off your shoulders as two thin straps covered in jewels connected behind your chest. Your hair was piled high on your head, a silver crown resting in the plaits.
Geralt realized he was staring when you blushed, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Do I look okay?” you asked demurely, shy now that your travelling companions saw you for who you really were.
“Do you look- Darling, you look amazing! That colour really suits you, it's no wonder Geralt is- ow!” The bard cut himself off as one of the Witcher’s hands shot out to smack him upside the head. Jaskier muttered to himself as he rubbed at the irritated spot, cursing Witchers under his breath. Geralt approached you, hands reaching for yours as he gazed down at you, the warm feeling he so often in your presence felt bubbling up inside him once more. You wouldn’t meet his eyes, so he reached out and lifted your chin, admiring you the whole while.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured, the corners of his lips turning up as you blushed once more. You fingers tightened on his before you let go, retreating back to your horse. Mounting, you settled yourself with your skirts hitched to your knees, ignoring the wolf whistle the bard let out at the sight. “Fuck off, I hate riding side saddle.”
Geralt grinned at that, before realizing what this meant. You were to be parted soon, sold off like property in order to further your kingdom’s advances. He understood your reasons, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. A silence fell over the group as Geralt followed your lead, remounting Roach before falling in behind you.
As you rode up to the gates, Geralt watched your posture change. The laid back traveller was quickly replaced by the royal princess, back straightening as you held your head high. You no longer looked around to admire the sights, looking straight ahead as you ignored the merchants passing you on the road. You didn’t acknowledge the guards who stopped your progress, allowing Jaskier to announce you when they inquired. Your small group was quickly led to an antechamber, Geralt insisting that he wait with you in order to see the contract completed.
As the door closed behind the soldier, your posture slumped, tears coming to your eyes. Geralt was quick to cross the room, kneeling in front of you as you collapsed into a chair, blinking up at the ceiling to stop yourself from crying. He rested a hand on yours, intertwining your fingers as he squeezed, offering silent support. Jaskier did the same, perching himself on the arm of your chair, hand squeezing your shoulder to remind you he was there.
You composed yourself as the door opened, standing to meet the page that entered. He bowed deeply before gesturing that you should follow him. You took a moment, straightening your back as you fussed with your dress before stepping forward, any hint of hesitation or reluctance gone from your posture. Geralt and Jaskier followed at your sides, a somber feeling overcoming the party. Jaskier looked close to being in tears, having gotten close to you over the journey. Geralt felt much the same, not wanting to let you go but understanding he had to.
His heart clenched as the double doors in front of their party opened, revealing the throne room to them. There were two people sat on the thrones perched on the dais, with a small group of people standing below. They turned at the sound of the doors
The page announced “Her Royal Highness, Princess Y/N of Tairis” before bowing as you swept into the room.
Geralt almost stumbled as he spotted the prince approaching you, a sharp feeling flaring in his chest before he shoved it down. Was that…. It couldn’t be . He was brought back to the present as you curtsied, holding your hand out to the prince to kiss as he bent over it. “Prince Raleigh, it’s so good to finally meet you,” you murmured, a fake smile pasted on your face.
The prince answered you, but Geralt didn’t hear it as the world halted around him, the prince’s name pulling a memory from deep within him. As he stared at the young man, he could see that the prince wasn’t happy with this arrangement either, he could smell the fear and reluctance wafting through the air. Hope bubbling up in his chest. Geralt waited as you completed your greetings before striding over to the prince, bowing in greeting.
“Geralt!” the man exclaimed, a genuine smile appearing on his face. “How are you? It’s been what, three years since I last saw you?”
“That is has been,” Geralt rumbled, pleased that the prince was still the happy young man underneath the layers of formality. “But if I may have a word with you, Prince Raleigh? Privately?”
“Of course, of course! Anything for you, my good Witcher,” the prince was quick to lead him to an office as he ignored the half-hearted protests from his staff. As he closed the door behind him, he turned to face Geralt, face dropping as he continued. “It’s felt like it's been longer than three years since we last saw each other, my friend. And as much as I am glad to see you again, our meeting is tainted by your contract. I wish you had just come to visit.”
Geralt’s eyebrows rose at the prince’s bluntness, struggling to keep the hope that flared in his chest from showing on his face. “Oh? You weren’t looking forward to meeting your betrothed?”
The words tasted bitter on his tongue, but he kept his face neutral, not wanting to give anything away. The prince made a face at his question, leaning against the desk in the middle of the room as he crossed his arms across his chest. “I wasn’t aware that she was even my betrothed before yesterday. Apparently it was a deal our parents had made when we were young, and they ‘forgot’ to mention it to me.” The last sentence was accompanied by air quotes, the tone overly sarcastic.
The prince pushed off of the desk, walking over to gaze out the window as he continued. “I had hoped to court someone else, to have had the chance to explore, marry for love, maybe. She’s beautiful, she just makes my heart sing.” He glanced over at Geralt as the Witcher moved to join him. He grinned wryly, “But it was not to be, eh?”
“What if it was?” Raleigh shot Geralt a sharp look at his question. Turning fully to look at him, the prince narrowed eyes, “What do you mean by that?”
“Do you remember how we met, prince?” Geralt walked over to the desk, picking up a quill from the surface and toying with it. “How I saved your life?”
“Yes, and then when I asked what you wanted in return you said…” as he trailed off, Raleigh turned to look at the Witcher, realization dawning on his face as what Geralt was suggesting became apparent. ‘You would claim-” he cut himself off, not wanting to voice the hope that was slowly wafting through the room.
Geralt nodded, keeping his gaze on the prince. “I would, I- I love her.”
The prince grinned at his admission, hope flaring in his eyes. “Well then, my dear Witcher, let’s go turn that fucking room on it’s head. Lead the way.”
Returning to the room, the two men found two groups of people waiting; the royals murmuring amongst themselves as Jaskier and Y/N waited on the other side of the room, sending anxious glances towards the office. The prince bounced over to the group, a brilliant smile on his face. His parents looked at him warily, the group dispersing as you and Jaskier made your way over to join them. The prince made a grand bow as he stopped in front of the king and queen, flourishing as he stood. “Mother, Father, Sir Geralt has something he would like to say.”
The Witcher stepped up beside the prince, meeting the royals’ gazes. In a low voice, Geralt spoke the line he had been angling for ever since he saw your betrothed. “I claim the Law of Surprise that Prince Raleigh owes me, in return for saving his life.”
He ignored the sharp inhale that came from the queen as she realized where he was going with this. “I claim that which the prince possesses but does not know: I claim Princess Y/N.”
As he spoke that damning sentence, he turned to you, watched the surprise flit over your face before you settled on hope, your eyes shining as you realized what he had done. As conversation burst out behind him, Prince Raleigh shouting over his parents to make himself heard, he only had eyes for you. His gaze roamed over your face, taking in all of the little details he hadn’t let himself notice since you had revealed your secret. He could see the tension draining out of your shoulders as he stepped closer to you, unshed tears shining in your brilliant eyes. He could smell your hope, your happiness drifting through the air towards him as you dared to allow yourself the thought that this may end up the way you wanted it to.
As he took another step towards you, your expression broke as you rushed towards him, jumping into his arms as he pulled you against him, tangling his hand in your hair as his other wrapped around your waist, holding you to his chest. He looked down at you, saw the happiness shining in your gaze as you stared back before he lowered his head, capturing your lips with his as he swallowed your sigh. Pulling back, he rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he basked in your scent.
Feeling a hand on his arm, Geralt opened his eyes and looked to the side to see Jaskier standing there, a huge grin on his face. You laughed quietly, reaching an arm out to tug the bard into the hug, clinging to both him and Geralt as he wrapped you in his arms, pulling the Witcher back in when he tried to pull away. The larger man grumbled under his breath but let himself be squished into the embrace. As silence fell, the three of you pulled away to see the rest of the people in the room staring at you. The king and his advisors all had impassive expressions while the queen and Prince Raleigh were looking at the three of you softly.
The king opened his mouth to say something but was stopped by a hand on his arm. The queen smiled gently at him before turning her gaze to you. Geralt felt you shift nervously beneath his arm, could smell your anxiety as you waited for the answer to the Witcher’s claim. He could hear your heart racing, its rhythm picking up as the queen smiled, stepping forward as she gestured for you to do the same. She took your hands as you approached her, before pulling you in for a hug. Geralt could hear her whispered words, meant only for you. “I wish you all of the best, dear. As much as I wish you could join our family, I realize now that you’ve found your place in life.”
You let out a sob, gripping the woman tighter as you mumbled thank yous. She shushed you, running a hand down your back as she pulled away, smiling down at you, reaching up to brush the tears from your cheeks. She looked at Geralt, holding out a hand to him. The Witcher was quick to join her, placing his larger hand in hers. She smiled up at him, “Take care of her, she is a precious gift.”
“Of course,” he replied, taking your hand in his other, squeezing your fingers as he smiled down at you. You looked back, beaming up at him, adoration clear in your eyes.
The queen moved behind you two, placing her hands on your shoulders as she announced, “The Law of Surprise has been claimed! And I acknowledge it. Princess Y/N satisfies the Witcher Geralt’s claim, as destiny proclaims.”
Prince Raleigh cheered at his mother’s proclamation as Geralt tucked you back into him. The queen turned around in response to your questioning hand. “Would you- would it be possible for you to- my parents-” you stuttered, adoration filling Geralt’s heart as your royal demeanor fell away.
“It’s no problem, child, what would you like?” The queen took your hand between both of hers, you calming at her touch. You took a deep breath, reaching up to pull the crown from your hair before handing it to her. Geralt felt like his heart might burst, understanding the silent symbolism of shedding your royal duties.
“Of course, I will send this back to your parents and let them know what has come of you. Now go, child, enjoy your new life.” You relaxed at her words, at the finality of her taking your crown. You thanked her before turning back to Geralt, tugging on his hand as you left the throne room, leaving your old life behind. Jaskier quickly followed you, face breaking out into a brilliant grin as the three of you rode out of the gates. Your laughter filled the air, lifting Geralt’s heart at the sound. You left the castle, Geralt taking a moment to stop and ponder it. When they had entered earlier that day, silence and misery had been all that had accompanied; now that you were leaving with him, his soul felt lighter, heart happy as you took your rightful place by his side.
Later that night, Geralt watched you with a fond gaze as you gleefully burnt your dress, severing that last link to your life that you had. As you looked up, you met his gaze over the fire. Seeing the sheer happiness and joy that was on your face felt like the most important thing in the world to him, he wouldn’t have changed anything in the world. As you finished poking at the fabric, you came over to him, dropping a kiss on his hair as you sat down, tucking yourself under his arm. He pulled you closer to him, lacing his free hand with yours as he relaxed, leaning his chin on your head as he inhaled your scent. He felt comforted, happy, now that he had you with him.
He settled further into the grass, pulling you down as he lay back. You let out a soft noise that sparked a warm heat in the middle of his chest, prompting him to roll onto his side, tugging you closer so that your legs tangled with his as you pressed your nose into his chest, relaxing into his warmth. He murmured soft nonsense into your hair as you drifted, going limbless against him. Geralt sighed as you babbled in your sleep, relaxing as he let himself drift off to sleep alongside you.