ISLAND EYES. ❪ Geralt of Rivia ❫ ✓

four

Once Jaskier and Geralt returned to their room, Jaskier shrieked when he saw Beryl, in her human form, in the bathtub. Her legs were hanging out from the bathtub as she played with the ripples on the water.

Geralt sighed. "Right, that's - "

Beryl interrupted him by biting a big chunk out of the selkiemore's flesh. Jaskier groaned in disgust.

" - Beryl," finished Geralt.

"Where did you pick her up?" Jaskier asked.

Geralt grunted. "The ocean. She doesn't have a home."

"And you're going to take care of her?"

"She saved me from the selkiemore. It's only until I save her back," explained Gerald.

"Am I allowed to eat him?" Beryl asked, pointing at Jaskier.

"No, you're not allowed to eat any humans unless I say so," said Geralt.

"What? Is she a cannibal?" Jaskier asked, shifting away from Beryl.

"A mermaid," she answered. "Don't worry. I won't harm you - unless you give me a reason to."

Her voice was softer and inviting. Jaskier felt his muscles relax. Geralt glanced at Jaskier before nudging his head at Beryl.

"Out."

Beryl pouted, but obliged. She stood up in all her glory.

"Jaskier, grab a towel," Geralt ordered.

Jaskier snapped out of it and listened to him, handing a towel to Beryl, who took it with a smile.

"Oh - we should probably get her some clothes," Jaskier advised.

Geralt sighed through his nose. "Take some coins and get something for her."

It took less than an hour for Jaskier to come back with fitting pants, a corset-top, and a dress for Beryl. She took them and put them on, confused as to what the dress was for if she already had pants and a top.

"What's the dress for?" Geralt asked as he sat in the bath tub of fresh water.

"Well, Beryl can't be left alone here. She's coming with us tonight."

Geralt grunted.

"Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest. It is one night bodyguarding your very best friend in the whole wide world. How hard could it be?" Jaskier asked.

"I'm not your friend."

"Oh. Oh, really? Oh, you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom?" Jaskier retorted.

Geralt glared at him.

"Yeah, well, yeah, exactly. That's what I thought. Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal. The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier's triumphant performance!"

Beryl tilted her head at the mention of Cintra. She never ventured out to other kingdoms or went outside of the oceans bordering Fiopha. Because she was the only living heir to the throne, her father demanded she never left Fiopha. The knight in charge of her, Kori, would fetch her meals - human flesh - for her.

"I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry," retorted Geralt. "I'm not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men."

"I'm to go to this party in Cintra?" Beryl asked.

Geralt and Jaskier turned to look at her.

"Like I said: we can't leave you alone here," repeated Jaskier.

Beryl nodded. "I've never been to Cintra before. Is it lovely?"

"Well - not exactly. You'll find out," responded Jaskier.

"How about we don't go?" Geralt asked.

"No," answered Jaskier.

Geralt grunted in response.

"Is this what happens when you get old?" Jaskier asked. "You get unbearably crochety and cantankerous? Actually, I've always wanted to know, do Witchers ever retire?"

"Yeah. When they slow and get killed."

"Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this... monster hunting nonsense is over with," Jaskier explained.

"I want nothing," Geralt replied.

"Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you."

"I need no one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me," Geralt added.

Jaskier gave him a look. "And yet, here we are. And yet, there is Beryl, needing you."

Geralt hummed, glancing around. "Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?"

"Ah. Well - uh - they were sort of covered in selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway, you're not going tonight as a Witcher."