Chapter Text
The tavern was full and lively tonight, the simple wooden and stone building filled with ballads and hearty jigs, the patrons swaying as they walked, or stuck in their seats from drunkenness, chuckling loudly amongst themselves; which meant good news for you, the merrier they were, the more coins you could idly slip from their pockets.
You sat at the dark mahogany bar with your confidant Romy, her eyes casually searching each individual in the tavern. This was your usual gambit, both you and Romy would get “drunk” at the tavern and so happen to innocently fall onto or stumble into a gentleman, meanwhile the other pinched his coins, each night taking turns, trying new tactics to distract and evade. Some were more annoyed at the spilt ale, but most times men were too pleased to have a beautiful woman like Romy ‘bump’ into them. She had warm blonde hair that cascaded down her back and inviting rich brown eyes. She also bought her corsets a size small.
Despite playing the innocent girl who couldn’t stomach her whiskey, you had witnessed Romy outdrink half the men in the tavern. You, on the other hand, are the light-fingered one. Whenever you pinched something, it was as if a small streak of lightning crackled down your back, and like a magpie, the shiny and expensive things in life always caught your eye. Romy was a skilled pickpocket as well, but not as skilled as you. It was you who always had to find the biggest coin pouch or the most sparkling necklace to steal or to try the more elaborate scheme. Tonight, Romy wore her navy blue skirt paired with her favourite light sky blue corset, edged with white stitching and laced with white silk, on top of her white shirt. She’s bonny and even a blind man would admit it. You always preferred simple colours, tonight sporting your black pair of trousers, your old pair of beat-up black leather boots, a white men's shirt with billowing sleeves, and a simple black corset. Your brother often called you a poor impersonation of a pirate, but you can’t very well be swift-footed in a heavy skirt.
“Who looks good?” you questioned, keeping your back towards the main hall of the tavern.
“Hmmm,” Romy pondered “I’m not sure. Not a lot of them look worth it to me.”
You sighed. “Okay, lemme look.”
Without missing a beat, Romy turned in her stool to face the bar and you turned just the same, this time to face the room. “Another pint please Reuben,” Romy called down the bar.
You’re eyes gazed over the crowd, trying, hoping, to spot someone worth stealing from. You and Romy had had a slow couple of weeks and you’re itching for a big steal. In the corner of the room, a bard plucked merrily at his lute, spinning the tale of a butcher’s son and a fisherman’s daughter. He wore a bright blue tunic that matched his eyes, over a white shirt, and jigged along to the beat of his song.
“He’s cute,” Romy commented, blushing slightly. She had turned back to the crowd and was smiling at the bard.
“Hey!” You slapped her wrist playfully “We’re supposed to be working, you’re here to distract the men, not them distracting you.”
“Oh c’mon! It’s only a bit of fun.” she teased.
“I’m sure you’ll have more than your bit of fun” you retorted with a smile on your face.
You turned back to the room, eyeing the patrons carefully, but Romy seemed to be right, not a decent target in sight. Half of them you knew personally, farmers, blacksmiths, carpenters, seamstresses, and fishermen.
Before the war, a few good merchants would wander through Burdoff now and then, take you and Romy for simple small town maidens, and become easy pickings, but those sorts of men have now dwindled in number. And as much as you liked stealing, you could never bring yourself to steal from a farmer or fisherman, especially those you knew from the village. And in your eyes, it was better to steal one big bag of coins, rather than skimming off of everyone, which makes you a much more obvious target.
As you continued to peer around the room, the tavern door swung open and stepped through a beast of a man, and the room fell quiet.
Tall, impossibly broad, with shocking white hair and citrine yellow eyes. Once in the light, you could get a better look at him. He was filthy, his black armour drenched in mud and blood, save for a shining medallion on his chest, etched with the symbol of a wolf. A scowl painted his angular face as his eyes searched the room. He settled on a gentleman sitting at a table on the left-hand side, the farmer Jacob. The white-haired man made his way over to Jacob, and only then did you notice the head of a kikimora, oozing thick black blood on the floor in his hand.
You whispered behind you to Reuben “Who is that?”
“A Witcher. Jacob and some of the other farmers hired him to get rid of a kikimora near their lands. Guess he got it done.”
You watched as Jacob and his compatriots handed the witcher a pint and a sack of coins, and it looked heavy. Suddenly the bard sprung into another song “Toss a coin to your Witcher, O valley of plenty, O valley of plenty Ooh Ohhh…” The tavern seemed to liven again and settle into its normal lightheartedness. The song soon ended and the Witcher joined the bard in the dark corner of the tavern and sank into his pint.
You shot a look at Romy.
“No,” she said flatly and turned back to the bar.
“Yes.”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“He’s a fucking witcher!”
“Exactly! He’s terrifying! No girl is gonna jump on him unless she’s getting reimbursed. He’s gonna love the attention from ya.” Romy tried not to smile. “C’mon you gotta help me pull this off” you pleaded.
“Listen I am not getting beaten into a pulp by a witcher because you have to have to scratch that dirty itch of yours.”
“Hey!” You protested. “ O c’mon, it’ll be easy I promise. Just call him a big hero or something, they love that shit. Pleeeeeaassse Rooomyyyy?”
“No! Apparently they have like, superhuman senses or something. You put a foot wrong and you’re blown. It’s not worth the risk.”
You slumped in your seat and groaned loudly “Gods you’re no fun sometimes.”
“You know I’m right.”
“Still no fun.” You resigned yourself to just drinking, but that ‘dirty itch’ as Romy called it wouldn’t go away. The night carried on but you just sulked, displeased that you’ll probably go another week without a decent lift.
Suddenly Romy turned to you, “Will you stop?!”
Only then had you realised you’d been shaking your knee up and down since she turned down your plan. You turned restlessly in your stool, facing the crowd again, and you found yourself unable to keep your eyes off the witcher, but more specifically, the medallion around his neck. He got up and began making his way towards the stairs, up to the rooms. You looked at her and she knew instantly what you were doing as you downed the rest of your drink.
“Don’t do it.”
“Another ale please Reuben.”
“(Y/N) I swear to gods.”
“Back in a moment,” you winked.
“If he kills you I’m not coming to your funeral.”
“If you’re not gonna be useful, at least be quiet.”
You got up from your stool and began making your way towards the witcher, making sure to stumble here and there, sloshing your ale out of its flagon. You kept your eyes on the back wall as if making your way to someone at the back of the tavern. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him getting closer and closer and closer until as he tried to walk past you, you stumbled into his shoulder. He caught you almost instantly, your arms around his neck and damn if he wasn’t very sturdy.
“Whoops!” you slur. “So so-orrrrry!” He glared down at you. Gods if this man wasn’t the sourest looking grump you’d ever seen. You’ve seen funerals with more cheer.
He pushed you off him and grunted before continuing to make his way upstairs. You continued towards the back of the bar towards the bard. You introduced yourself and he told you his name was Jaskier and humbly bowed his head.
“Listen my friend over there” you pointed back towards Romy, “thinks you’re quite the performer, and quite cute” you winked. You thought you could almost see him blush a little. You waved at Romy, beckoning her over. Even from here, you could see she wasn’t happy with your stunt, the steam rising from her hair, but she eventually obliged bringing her sweetest smile with her.
As she sat down she looked at you. Did you get it? You saw here eyes imploring.
Of course. You replied with a wink. Safely in your palm was the wolf medallion, and you felt that lightning run down your spine.
The night continued on, Jaskier was very preoccupied with flirting with Romy but overall he was very friendly. You managed to get the name of the witcher, Geralt of Rivia. Jaskier spun a few tales, but you soon got bored as the third wheel and contented with tonight’s lift, you made your exeunt.
You stepped out of the tavern and breathed in the cold night air. You noticed the first signs of snow falling, and began the walk home, enjoying the fresh air and snow dancing in the moonlight before it settled too heavily. You turned the corner to the main road, humming along to yourself and - SLAM-
Black gloved hands gripped your throat and you were pushed against the shadowy wall of the tavern. You tried to yell but the wind had been knocked out of you. You looked up at your assailant only to see the witcher, snarling down at you, menace in his eyes. You were of modest height but this beast was towering over you, no way you could squirm out and escape his vice-like grip.
Shit.
“Sir, please….” you whimpered girlishly, pushing tears from your eyes.
“Don’t play dumb thief!” he growled, emphasising each word. His voice was deep and he was so close you could practically feel his chest vibrating as he spoke. “Where is it?!”
“Where’s what? Please I don’t know what you’re talking about”
“I said” he squeezed your throat tighter “Don’t play dumb. Where is my medallion?!” He slammed you back against the wall. You soon realised you couldn’t talk your way out of this one.
“Okay, okay.” You sighed and stopped your waterworks. “If I give it back will you let me go?”
His only reply was a soft grunt which you decided to take as a ‘yes’. You pulled the medallion from your pouch and held it up towards him, the moonlight catching its rough edge. As he took from your hand, his grip on your throat loosened and he stepped back, you could finally catch your breath again. But you didn’t hang around long, instead quickly running back home, out of harm’s way.
Geralt returned to the tavern, still furious, the smell of the thief clung to his nose, sandalwood, lemon and leather. He barreled back into the tavern, eager to get some sleep. He’d been on the road a while, and though sleeping rough never really bothered him, that kikimora did put up a severe fight.
The barman piped up as Geralt strode past “Uh hi there sir?” he asked nervously and Geralt shot him a glare, it was clear to everyone else that Geralt was not in the talking mood. “Uh, sir your, um, friend has had a fair few but he said you would, um, cover it?”
Geralt turned to see Jaskier and a blonde entangled in the corner where he left him, their lips not leaving each other. Geralt rolled his eyes and stepped towards the barman to pay what Jaskier owed, silently promising himself he’d leave early before Jaskier awoke in the morning, damned bard caused more trouble than he’s worth. Geralt went to reach for his pouch, but it wasn’t there. He checked the other pocket, inside his armour, even upstairs in his room, but it wasn’t anywhere. The thief. When Geralt got his medallion from her, she must’ve taken it then.
“Who was that girl here at the bar?!” He demanded.
“Whi-which girl?” Reuben stuttered in fear.
“The one sat with that blonde,” he gestured towards Jaskier.
“Oh that’s (Y/N).”
“Just use what coins I paid for the room to cover this fools”
“But that’s not eno..” Ruben began but quickly stopped when Geralt glared at him with his intense yellow eyes.
Satisfied with his answer, Geralt left the tavern, collected Roach from the stables and followed his nose in the direction she ran. He followed until he came to a small stream, and her smell evaporated. He could see no tracks in sight. Bested with tiredness from this whole day, he found a clearing in the forest to sleep under. If he ever saw (Y/N) again, he wouldn’t be so merciful.
You made it home from the tavern, even double backed and walked through the stream as to not be tracked, to make sure the Witcher didn’t follow you.
You approached your small cottage, no light in the window.
Good. They’re both asleep.
As you sneaked closer to the door a voice came from the darkness, “You’ve been out very late.”
Your brother Mattias came from around the corner of the cottage and lit his pipe. You slapped him on the arm.
“You scared the shit out of me! Don’t you know not to sneak up on young ladies like that!”
“Next time I see a lady I’ll be sure to do that” he smirked.
“Har har. Gis’ a bit” you signalled to his pipe. It was your fathers, carved on its side a snake you did when you were six. He passed it to you and as you breathed in and out, the smell of the tobacco brought you images of your father, watching the sunset at the end of a long day.
“Get lucky tonight?” Mattias asked. You threw the bag of coins, even he looked impressed.
“We can get Madi some medicine now.” you passed the pipe back to him. Your younger sister Madisson, aged 14 had fallen quite ill with fever. And the small plot of land and few chickens kept you and your siblings from growing hungry but didn’t provide much income. Mattias didn’t approve of your habit, but her fever only got worse.
“Who’d you get it from?”
“A witcher.” You said proudly.
Mattias’ eyes glared at you. He pushed the pouch back into your hands. “Give it back.”
“What? No. We need it.”
He raised his voice, “I’ve been speaking with Jacob about that kikimora and that witcher did him and this town a service. You return his money. Now.”
“Matt we need it for medicine! And besides, there’s always more monsters to kill, we have no idea when were are going to get out next windfall.”
“We’ll get it honestly! We’ll…sell some of the land”
“And how long is that gonna take? Bartering with Jacob or Gil?” You argued, “How long do you think Madi has huh?”
“I have put up with your thieving for-”
“Put up with? Madi would still be in those rags if not for my thieving”
“Enough!” you both turned to see Madi, standing in the doorway in her shift and blanket. She was still pale, sweat glistening, highlighting her sunken features. When she frowned like this she looked so much like your mother.
You rushed to her, pulling the blanket tighter around her, “Madi you shouldn’t be out in this cold go back inside.”
“Well, I can’t sleep much with you two arguing now can I?”
“I’m sorry,” Mattias says.
“Me too. We’ll keep it down. Go back to bed, pet.” She turned and went inside.
You took the pouch from Mattias “how much is the medicine we need?”
“10 orens” he replied, a puzzled look on his face.
You took 10 orens from the bag, handed it to him, and left the rest. “You can buy the next one” you smiled at him and made your way back towards the tavern.
Geralt awoke in the forest just before sunrise, the sound of singing wandering towards him. Jaskier plonked himself down next to the ashes of last night’s fire, “Oh she was a dear, that sweet Romy, I am forlorn to be leaving such a shapely ass. She did this thing with her fingers where sh-”
“Jaskier! Shut. Up. It's too early for your nonsense,” Geralt got up and began angrily packing away his things and getting Roach ready to ride.
“Gods you are more sour than usual.”
“Well while you were sucking on that girl’s face I had all my coin stolen by a rotten thief and had to sleep here!”
Suddenly a thought went off in Jaskier's head. “You mean this coin?” Jaskier shook a bag of coins. Geralt instantly grabbed it from his hands and could tell it was short of a few coins.
“Hey!” Jaskier protested.
“How did you get it?”
“I woke up with it next to my bed. Didn’t know it was yours just thought I got lucky. Oh well, I saw we use it for our next bawdy night eh?” he sighed.
As Geralt poured the coins out to count, a note fell out with them, in messy handwriting read: Nothing Personal :)
The note had the same smell, sandalwood, leather, and lemon.
The thief returned it? Why? Why then take it in the first place?
“Well,” Jaskier asked, “Where to next?”