Chapter Text
Batshit
Coda 7: We Were Here
“I have always been a lone wolf and in the real sense of the word (people say it all the time but it's usually not true.) I feel like I watch people and I wonder why they do things. Especially when it comes to love and relationships: most of the time I am thinking "Why are they together when they are not meant to be together?" but then I realize that they don't know that they're not meant to be together; it's just me who knows things like that! And I don't see any importance in all the other reasons why people usually want to be together— because it looks good, because it's convenient, because it's a fun game to play... the only reason to be with someone is if you are meant for someone. You're a wolf and they're a wolf too and you look at each other and you say, "You're my family, you're my home." Well, that's how I think.”
― C. JoyBell C.
Preparation for the union between Geralt and Jaskier is in full swing at Geralt’s villa in Toussaint. Jaskier, unsurprisingly, is a complete bridezilla, making Geralt steer clear of the man when he’s on the war path.
He’s quite content to sit on the balcony that extends from their room, drinking white gull while browsing through the most recent bestiary his mate gave him as a wedding present. It’s not the most fashionable gift for a groom, but Geralt really wouldn’t have wanted anything else.
He can hear the commotion beneath him, Jaskier yelling something at his brothers about the height the arch and then about the arrangement of the flowers. Lambert’s swearing under his breath, Eskel’s switching between sighing and laughing, Yennefer’s relaxing elsewhere (she had threatened the actor earlier when he tried to demand she do something), Ciri’s been running around with Dara and Triss is being the perfect assistant to the man.
Geralt’s just thankful Jaskier hasn’t asked him to do anything. He can avoid his dramatics in favour of relaxation.
He hasn’t had a vacation in a long time. In fact, Geralt can’t remember the last time he ever just willingly took a break from the Path. But with it being his wedding and marrying a very insistent man, he did. They all did. And so far, it’s been a blessing in disguise.
The group arrived at his villa a few days ago, Jaskier and Geralt coming earlier to “christen” the place to the persistence of the actor. The party, upon arrival, took their time, graciously settling in before beginning wedding preparations. Jaskier, in his true flamboyant fashion, went into overdrive with the gardens in the back which would be the perfect place to be married (his words, not Geralt’s), and immediately gave out roles to everyone.
The wedding itself is tomorrow, which may be why his mate is in such a tizzy, but Geralt knows that despite the rush, the place will look beautiful and so will Jaskier (he’s been imagining what Jaskier will be wearing, but the actor has successfully hidden his wardrobe from him).
He’s blissfully enraptured with his book until a scent scours into his nose. It scrunches upon the smell, his eyes darting upwards into the room, but he doesn’t see anything except a golden mist that leads outside into the hall. He places down his book, following the scent, which smells like a summer morning that has fresh dew on the grass. The trail leads him to the forest near the side, seemingly with the sun’s rays shining through that focus on one path which goes deep inside the trees.
Geralt checks his weapons. Swords on his back which he grabbed as he left, daggers in his boots and a stolen set of brass knuckles from Lambert’s personal collection.
With everything strapped in place, the witcher enters and follows the illuminated path. It goes on for a while but Geralt can’t sense anything off about the forest. There is no chaos lingering in the air or monsters that seem to be lurking about. It’s just him and whatever the golden mist is.
Eventually, he comes to a clearing and sees the mist swirl around a figure in the center. He knows by the appearance alone that this person is no human but a fae.
He begins to reach for his sword but finds his hand can’t move. Fuck.
“Hello, Geralt of Rivia.”
The figure turns revealing obsidian eyes, mint green skin and long blonde locks that flows as rivers do down the back. Her teeth are sharp and glint in the sunlight when she smiles. The golden mist surrounds her, sparkling in the rays and illuminating her figure to be the sun.
She must be Jaskier’s mother. A being of her nature screams summer court which his mate had mentioned was her home on several occasions. Jaskier must have told her about the wedding.
“Hello.”
“A witcher of few words.”
Normally, Geralt would grunt but this is Jaskier’s mother, so he can’t just act how he’d like to. So he shrugs.
“Words are more of Jaskier’s forte.”
Her smile seems to grow at that. “Yes, he does have a way with them.”
“Does he know you’re here?”
“No. I will make myself known when it’s right. I wanted to speak with you. I must admit, I was surprised when my son told me of his betrothed. Our kind don’t normally fraternize with yours. In fact, we’re usually hunted.”
Well fuck. Geralt scratches the back of his head, not knowing how to respond. She’s not wrong. But he sure as hell isn’t going to apologize. Fae can be shitty creatures and cause mayhem. Sometimes they deserve death. He’s about to retort but she raises her hand, silencing his tongue.
“I will not condemn you for your nature just as you cannot condemn me for mine. Witcher play a role in nature’s system, just as the fae do. I am not here to berate you, though it is quite entertaining watching you squirm. I am here, to offer you a blessing.”
That’s unexpected. Geralt’s eyebrows raise. “What kind of blessing?”
Jaskier’s mother begins to approach him, the golden mist and sunlight brightening with every step she takes. “The pair of you have longevity already, so giving you life would be redundant. That is the most common blessing we bestow on unions. No. What I have come to give is something you have been searching for your whole life Geralt of Rivia.”
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Your kind are taught that love is a weakness. Our kind are taught it is a strength. It is both. And it cannot be born. It must be made. No matter the connection.”
Geralt’s brow furrows as he processes. It sounds like she’s referencing their soul bond, but that’s chaos, pure and simple. They’re bound by Destiny. Aren’t they?
“Are you talking about soulmates?”
“My dove has chosen wisely.”
Dove?
“Soulmates may be tied by Destiny, but so is freewill. Chaos did not make you choose him nor him choose you, but an honest want. A simple desire to see and be seen.”
“I know. Jaskier explained all of that.”
She raises her fingers and gently places them on his chest. “You are seen Geralt of Rivia. And now, you too will see.”
Chaos rushes through him as his chest warms underneath his touch. It heats up, burning as he yells in agony at the pain. His mark feels like it’s peeling off. But it is short lived. The pain vanishes as quick as it came, disappearing as her fingers go.
“Take care of him witcher. He may be half elf, but he is also half human. Fearless but easy to break.”
“I cannot promise I won’t do something foolish and hurt him. But it will never be willingly.”
Her lips quirk. “Wise indeed.” And with a flash she’s gone, leaving him all alone in the woods.
Jaskier meanwhile finishes the final touches on the venue. With a satisfying grin he takes a step off of the platform, taking in the entire sight. It’s…gods it’s breathtaking. He’s truly outdone himself.
“Thank you gentlemen and Triss. You’ve all been absolute gems. Go and rest. Tomorrows a big day!”
Lambert grumbles something unflattering about Jaskier as he leaves. Eskel simply shakes his head and follows, waving goodbye as he does so.
“You coming over tonight? Since you and Geralt aren’t going to be seeing each other until tomorrow?”
“That sounds good. Let me just grab things from my room and I’ll be over there in a jiffy.”
“Sounds good. See you soon!”
“Bye Triss. And thank you again.”
She shrugs. “It’s going to be magical tomorrow. I was totally happy to help.”
She leaves Jaskier alone then. He watches her go, before looking around the site again. He collapses into a chair, slightly exhausted from the work but thrilled about tomorrow.
He’s marrying Geralt. And to think, he never knew if he would ever meet his soulmate and now he’s marrying them. Blessed be Destiny.
“Hello my dove.”
Jaskier whips around to see his mother walking down the aisle. She is, as always, a breathtaking specimen, dressed in true fae galore. She truly is a sight to behold. He’s glad no one else is around to see it.
“Mother. What…what are you doing here? I thought you hated human traditions.”
She sits down beside him. “I do. But you do not. I wanted to see you before you wed.”
“Thank you. I am flabbergasted but the good kind.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Jaskier pauses at the mischievous glint in her eye. The wheels turn before he realizes why she’s actually here and it makes him shake his head. Always trickery with her.
“You talked to Geralt, didn’t you.”
Her smile confirms it. “Mother, please tell me you didn’t threaten to disembowel him, or god forbid make him a servant to the summer court.”
She waves off his worry. “I did no such thing. And I would not have claim over him if he ever steps foot in our court. You know he belongs to you and you alone.”
His lips perk up at that. “True.”
“I came to give you a blessing.”
“Oh?” He sits straighter in his seat, raptly focused on her. “What kind of blessing?”
She takes his arm, the one where his scar is and gently traces over it. “I cannot restore your memory, for that belongs to the chaos inside of you. But I can restore something else. This will hurt my dove.”
“Mother what are you—”
“Shh.” She closes his eyes. “Sing in your head my dove. This will be over soon.”
A searing pain shoots through him, igniting his scar as if it were being burned all over again. He bites his lips, blood pumping out from the indent as he holds in a scream.
It’s over quickly, just as his mother said it would be. He blinks his eyes open gasping in relief. “Bloody hell.”
His mother strokes his cheek, her smile fond as she presses her forehead to his. “You have chosen wisely my dove.”
“I have.” Tears begin to bubble in his eyes.
“I am proud of you. And my blessing will occur once the union has been created. Only then will you see what you have forgotten.”
“Thank you.”
“I must go now. Call if you need anything, but I doubt you will for quite some time.”
“I will always need my mother.”
“You are too kind.” She kisses his forehead as she vanishes, her lips leaving a lingering presence despite her form no longer beside him. Jaskier tenderly touches the place on his head, his smile full of love for the woman who birthed him before he sighs. He is eager to see his mother’s magic come to fruition though he believes he knows what exactly she’s done.
But it will need to be just the two of them. Jaskier doesn’t want to share this with anyone else.
So he keeps what happened in the gardens to himself as he makes his way to his room, packs his things for the night and goes to the girls to celebrate his upcoming nuptials.
Tomorrow is going to be a beautiful day.
The Wedding:
Geralt adjusts his clothes in nervousness. The cuffs are twisted back and forth, the collar flattened constantly, the lapel shifting to change positions. He isn’t a wreck, Lambert can fuck off with his accusations but as he fiddles with the cuffs once more, he can feel Jaskier send calming waves to him and he immediately relaxes, a quirk in his lips.
“Looking good Geralt.”
Lambert comes in, his tie undone and hanging around his neck, the collar sticking up, and his cuff links jingling in his hand.
“You should finish getting dressed. We’re starting soon.”
“Nah. Aidan likes the roguish charm.”
“Maybe. But Jaskier doesn’t so fucking fix it.”
Lambert rolls his eyes, sitting into a chair as he does what Geralt asked. Eskel enters in shortly after, his own suit immaculate. It makes Geralt feel a little unkempt.
“You two clean up nice.”
“Fuck off Eskel.”
“Shame the wedding won’t shut up your potty mouth though Lambert.”
He gives him the finger. Eskel lets out a sigh as he sits across from his younger sibling and Geralt just watches the two with a fond smile, thankful that his brothers are here with him on this day.
“So, Geralt, are you and Jaskier moving out of the keep?”
“Yeah. We’ll be around in the winter but the rest of the year we’ll be in his place.”
“I bet he’s glad to be able to resume his normal schedule now that the crazy stalker’s been caught.”
“Hm.”
“Took a while to find that fucker but eventually we did.” Lambert says as he finishes fixing his lapel. Vesemir comes into the room as the brothers discuss Geralt’s and Jaskier’s move, holding a tray with four glasses of whiskey.
“No white gull?”
“I’ll not have you drunk on your brother’s wedding Lambert.”
“Thanks Vesemir.” Eskel grabs a glass. “A toast shall we?”
The rest of the witchers take a glass and raise it in the air. Eskel smiles at Geralt when he speaks. “To Geralt, who found himself a partner and the one who will drive him crazy for the rest of his days.”
“Hear hear!” shouts Lambert as Eskel finishes. The group all chuckles as they drink and Geralt can only feel fondness bloom in his chest, right where Jaskier’s mother had placed her fingers the day before, right over his soul mark.
Which he can’t see. She claimed he would see something, and he had assumed it revolved around his mark but all that appears in his vision is the white scar. It’s as if nothing has changed.
But he had felt the chaos. It had burned through him, almost like a cleansing of sorts. However, the mark remains unscathed.
“Oh! Geralt, this is for you.”
Eskel reaches into his coat and hands over an envelope to the witcher, who takes it gratefully and moves to the balcony to read it alone. He knows it’s from Jaskier (of course he’d want to say something personal since they had agreed on traditional vows).
The letter begins the way all of Jaskier’s letters do. A lot of swirls and loops accompanied by a scent of sandalwood and mint.
Dearheart,
Today is the day! How exciting that we will finally be able to show the world that I belong to you and you to me. I never thought I’d have this day. The day where I would wed my soulmate.
You are, everything I dreamed of and more. When I imagined what kind of person you would be, I always envisioned a strapping man, with golden locks that shined as bright as the sun, eyes that rivalled the finest gemstones and who could kiss all my fears away.
You are all of this. Your eyes remind me of my mother’s golden rings that make all women swoon, your hair is silky upon touch and when I caress my fingers through it, it reminds me of gliding through a river, and your muscles, well. You know how much I enjoy those.
But truly the most glorious thing I can praise and be utterly thankful for is your wonderfully large cock which…
Geralt laughs as the next two pages are solely devoted to describing the various ways in which Jaskier enjoys sex with him in excruciating detail. Soon though he gets to the end of the letter which has resume its sweet words.
I love you Geralt. And I am beyond the moon with us making this union official. Now, before I meet you I know my mother visited you and gave you something. She did this with me as well and told that the blessing would reveal itself once our union is established. If it’s what I think it is, I’d like to just be us, to look. I can’t imagine you disagreeing but do let me know when I see you at the end of the aisle.
Love,
Jaskier
Geralt smiles as he folds the letter back up, walking into the room where his family is gabbing amongst themselves. His face must set something off in Lambert who bounds forward reaching for the letter. Geralt senses his approach and ducks out of the way. The two scrap a bit before he throws it into the fire to get it away from his younger sibling.
“Fuck.”
Lambert straightens himself out. “You’re a fucking spoilsport.”
“It was none of your business.”
“Maybe. Doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have been fun to tease the hell out of you.”
“Fuck off.”
“Boys settle down. We need to get going. The ceremony is to begin soon. Come along.”
Vesemir ushers everyone out of the room and down to the gardens, where everything will be happening in just a few moments.
Jaskier sits rigidly as Triss dusts his cheeks with blush. They all woke up early to get ready, Yennefer working on his hair as the redhead fixes his face. Ciri and Dara have joined them, both on the bed in their outfits chattering about all things teen.
Faint melodies play in the room as everyone gets ready, soothing away the nerves and bringing forth eager anticipation. Triss hums along as she works, Yennefer smiles fondly along with the woman, her ring glinting sharply in the sun’s rays.
“So, how are you feeling?” Triss asks, tilting his chin left to right.
“I can’t even begin to describe how excited I am.”
“Good. And you said the clothes you’re wearing…those are traditional elvish designs?”
“Well. To a certain extent yes. The summer court tends to dress in lighter colours and floral patterns. This gown is more of a modern take. I had one of my favourite designer’s create it.”
“It’s beautiful. You’ll be radiant.”
“Indeed. Thank you by the way, all of you, for being here and bringing us together.”
Yennefer smiles at Jaskier in the mirror who grins in return. “I speak for all of us when I say you’re welcome.”
Warmth spreads through Jaskier as he basks in the love all these people have for him and he for them. They are truly marvelous.
“Okay. You’re face is a done.”
“The hair too.”
“Excellent. Time for the gown then.”
He leaves the chair and with nimble fingers, removes the dress from the hanger. “I may need some help.”
Triss chuckles, going to his aid and helping him into the cumbersome piece. His head pops through, then his arms shooting down. Yennefer comes around and adjusts the train while cleverly drinking wine, so she doesn’t spill it.
“Jas, you’re so stunning!”
“Thank you princess.”
“Dad’s jaw is going to drop.”
Yennefer raises an eyebrow. “I think it’ll do more than that.”
“Hun, children present.”
“Relax Triss. Nothing she hasn’t heard before.”
The redhead rolls her eyes as she adjusts the belt around Jaskier’s waist. She tightens it accordingly, before going over to the jewelry and adding it to the ensemble.
“There. All done.”
Jaskier hugs her in gratitude and then stands before the mirror. Gods, he had imagined his beauty on his day, but his reflection doesn’t even compare to the image he had created. He is far more ethereal. His fae features are prominent as he strips the glamour away, ears finally pointed, his cornflowers brighter, and his skin illuminated by moonlight despite it being daytime.
“Holy fuck.”
“Ciri.”
“That wasn’t me. That was Dara.”
Jaskier turns as the elf’s eyes widen. “You’re an elf.”
“Half.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Not many do.”
“Cool.”
Triss snorts. “That was anti-climactic. Anyway, we should get down there now. Oh! Geralt wanted me to give you this.”
Jaskier takes the outstretched envelope. “He wrote me a letter.” He blissfully sighs. Yennefer snorts and links her arm with Triss. “We’ll leave you to it. Ciri, Dara, let’s get settled for the ceremony.”
The teens follow the two women out of the room while Jaskier sits back down. He can just picture Geralt trying to convey his thoughts and feelings into words. The letter probably won’t be as long as his but the fact that Geralt wrote anything is a wonder.
He sends gratefulness to the witcher and in response, feels the man’s love grow infinitely for him. Gods, Jaskier can’t wait to marry this man.
Jaskier,
I’m not good with words, so I won’t spend too long on this, but I knew I needed to write you something since we aren’t doing personal vows.
I always was a lone wolf. I had no desire for partnership and since I never knew what my mark was, figured a soulmate was a fool’s errand. So I never entertained the idea of one.
Then you came along. And threw every understanding of the bonds underneath the rug. You may have caused my anchor to switch but you’ve been a far greater anchor than Yen ever was because you see me as a man, not a witcher. I am eternally grateful to whatever higher power gave me you.
I’ll see you at the end of the aisle.
~ Geralt
The man may not be the most eloquent, but he certainly knows how to send Jaskier into a romantical tizzy. He strokes the penmanship before placing the letter to the side, bunching up his gown and moving to the gardens.
It’s time to marry his soulmate.
Geralt stands at the end of the aisle, illuminated by an enormous tree that has icicle lights hanging throughout it’s branches. Yen’s spelled the environment to be darker despite it being day for “dramatic effect” at the request of Jaskier.
The witcher has anticipation rushing through his veins, his eyes occasionally glancing over to the entrance to the venue. He can see Aidan sitting with Lambert, his head resting on the witcher’s shoulder. Priscilla’s with Eskel, their hands entwined. She throws Geralt a wink when their eyes connect. Ciri and Dara are across from them, speaking in hushed tones and glancing around snickering. Triss is with Yennefer, who is fussing over her dress until the redhead swats her hand away. Shani, Jaskier’s agent is there too, texting away something on her phone. Jaskier insisted she should come since she was, in a way, the catalyst for their union.
Geralt couldn’t find it in himself to argue.
Vesemir stands with his large tome at the front right next to Geralt. Geralt can’t tell if he’s excited or frustrated with how long Jaskier is taking. Though, that might just be him.
“Are you ready son?”
Geralt casts over to Vesemir, who’s eyes are silently communicating that they’re ready to go.
“Yes.”
He nods, coughs, and gestures to the tiny audience to stand. Movements rustle as fancy clothes brush against other fabrics and furniture. Then, it’s silent.
Music slowly comes to life and with it, pixies who are tranced to waltz around the group as gold sparkles trickle down from their wings. Their movement are graceful, swaying in large circles and bringing the attention to where Jaskier stands, otherworldly underneath all the lights.
Geralt is struck speechless. He has no words. His eyes are captivated by the vision that his mate is, who moves slowly towards him.
He steps onto the raised platform, demure before the witcher.
“Handsome as always.” Geralt can only take his hand and kiss the inside of his wrist, to communicate how he’s feeling. He knows Jaskier can feel everything inside of him anyway, but the action still makes him beam.
“Ready to begin?” Vesemir waits patiently for their answers.
“Yes.” Geralt shares a smile with Jaskier. And then Vesemir begins.
The ceremony isn’t anything grand or long, despite the size of where they stand. But it is intimate, the pair’s hand clasped together for the entire time, repeating the vows to one another after Vesemir states them. They place their rings on the correct finger and their eyes never waver from each other as the ceremony goes on.
“You may now seal your union with a kiss.”
Geralt smiles, letting go of Jaskier’s hands to clasp his face and kisses him, pouring all that he feels for this man into it. He can sense his mate tremble underneath the affection but rebound quickly, returning with fervor. As he does, a spark of chaos erupts where is mark is and carries a strange warmth throughout his entire body. The group launches into applauses with hooting and hollering as Geralt and Jaskier pull away.
“I love you.” Jaskier whispers.
“I love you too.”
“Want to flee this?”
“Very much.”
Jaskier grabs Geralt’s hand and dashes down the aisle, laughing along with everyone’s cheer as the witcher stumbles behind. The pair make their escape by going further into the gardens and settling down on a stone bench amongst the rose bushes.
They sit in a satisfying silence, basking in each other’s presence and their hand entwined, with Jaskier resting his head on Geralt’s frame. He can’t believe they made it here, together, now untied through matrimony and chaos.
"I got your letter."
Jaskier perks up. "And?"
"Five pages Jas?"
"Oh fuck you. That was some of my best work."
"Two pages were devoted to my cock."
"And it is absolutely lovely and should have had more."
"I had to burn it so Lambert wouldn't read it."
"Ah. Well. Occupational hazard I suppose."
"Thank you. You are...I know I never thought this could be mine. And I know I've always refuted Destiny."
"Like an idiot."
"Shush."
"Shushing."
“But, she gave me you. And for that, I will only ever be grateful.”
“Mm. I’m sure she loves hearing that.”
Geralt chuckles, lightly kissing his mate. His chest hums in satisfaction upon feeling Jaskier’s arousal spike but he settles it down. He has something else to focus on.
“Did you feel something? When we kissed?”
Jaskier shifts backwards a bit. “I did. I believe it to be my mother’s blessing. I think she may have reversed the scars. We might be able to see what our marks say now.”
Geralt hums. He isn’t sure how he feels about checking the mark. Deep down, he knows Jaskier is his, mind, body, and soul. But if the mark has different words scrawled across…would Jaskier still wish to be with him?
His mate seems to be going through the same thoughts if his face is anything to go by. His brow has furrowed, his fingers dancing with each other in anxiousness. Geralt grasps them to ease his mind.
“Do you? Want to check?”
Jaskier sighs. “Honestly? No.”
Relief floods Geralt. They’re on the same page.
“You are mine. I don’t need a set of words to tell me that. My mother may have given us the opportunity to confirm it but that’s just it. Like soulmates, it’s a choice. And I choose you. Every time.”
"Me too. I cannot think of anyone else I would rather spend eternity with. Soulmate or not, I would have chosen you."
“Then it’s settled. We don’t look. We don’t need to.”
“No. We don’t.”
The pair kiss again, deeply, and unfathomably full of adoration for the other. And underneath their clothes, two white marks illuminate.
I just love how you stand there and brood.
You here alone?
Then they fade, leaving nothing but unblemished skin.
The blessing fulfilled as two souls choose the other, forever bound by Destiny.
Outfit Inspiration:
Wedding Edition
Venue:
Jaskier:
Geralt:
Yennefer:
Triss:
Eskel:
Lambert:
Ciri:
Vesemir:
Dara:
Priscilla:
Shani:
Aidan: