Geraskier Oneshots

A Fair Day for a Flower Festival

Geralt wasn't quite sure how long his bard had been moony-eyed for this festival, but it was certainly a while. 

Geralt had received a call in Vengerberg.  Jaskier had begged to come with him, and considering it sounded like hirikka, he figured it would be a good journey to bring him along on.  Jaskier, unfortunately, had overheard his client mention something about a flower festival Tretogor, and was set on it.  He had gotten the dates, and, so, here they were, waking up in an inn before sunrise to prepare.  

Jaskier insisted that they dress according to local traditions, so he gave Geralt a gilded blue coat and forced him to slick his hair back, and he himself wore a white ruffled shirt and a crown made of Jacob's ladder and dandelions, for his namesake.  

"I love you, Jaskier, but don't you think the crown is... a bit much?"

"No!"  The poet gasped.  "I think you should be wearing flowers yourself!  There must be something you like,"

"No, there isn't," 

"Geralt!"  He whined.

After a lot of pleading, Geralt finally gave in and allowed him to pin one marigold into his hair.  Jaskier was beside himself with joy, so he supposed it was worth it.  Besides, it was a flower festival, after all.  There was no silliness in making his love happy.  Even if he would have preferred to not be going at all. 

Jaskier grabbed his hand and pulled him outside, passing through the inn's pub on the way through.

Geralt looked longingly at the buffet.  "Not even breakfast?"

"We'll get food there,"

"What can you even make out of flowers?"

"Oh, plenty!"  Jaskier was so excited he was practically bouncing.  "Bagels and bread and flaky pastries and this amazing cream-"

"Okay, okay, I'm sure you'll find something to tempt me,"

Jaskier smirked.

Geralt made a face at him.  "You little shit, you're worse than I am,"

The poet laughed.  "And that's why you love me,"

He rolled his eyes but didn't deny it.

It wasn't long before they could hear the sounds of the festival.  And smell it.

The smell sort of hit Geralt like a freight train; he stumbled, his hand over his nose.  It was a cross of heavily-perfumed flowers and decadent food; amazing, but so sudden.

Jaskier grabbed his arm.  "Woah, easy, Geralt, are you okay?"

"Fine," he muttered.  "Sorry, just... can't you smell that?"

Jaskier raised his noise skyward.  "Sort of.  Geralt, is this going to be too much for you?  We don't have to go if it's going to... yaknow,"

He did a good job of hiding his disappointment, but Geralt could tell.  He really didn't want to disappoint him; he'd been looking forward to it for so long.  "No, no, I'll be okay.  It was just a lot at once,"

Jaskier gave him an incredulous look.  

"Jaskier.  I'll be fine.  I just needed a second to adjust," He insisted.

Jaskier gave him a soft smile, then looped his arm through the witcher's.  "Okay, darling.  Let's go, then?"

Geralt gave him a half smile and nodded.  It would be a long day... but a long day with Jaskier wasn't so bad.   

"Okay... food for Geralt,"  Jaskier muttered under his breath.  "Food for... ah!"

He dragged Geralt over to a stall seated at the very front of the the town square.  It was hung with a single blanket-like weaving of flowers.  Sitting clearly visible on shelves and over fires were beautiful pastries, donuts, breads, and a number of other things, all laced through with a variety of pastel flowers.  Jaskier's eyes caught on a set of lavender danishes filled with jam the same color as the petals, and he bought them without asking Geralt if he wanted one, but he needn't, because Geralt would indeed, very much so.