Runaway Part One | Geralt 18+
Requested plot: Can you have it that the reader is a princess who requested Geralt’s help and then she runs away when her father wishes to marry her off.
P.S I made my own kingdom up, don’t hate me. Alvinia is a bunch of snails ha.
Warnings: Language, mentions of violence. No smut in this one, but there will be in part two.
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The sounds of laughter could be heard all the way from the main hall to your chambers. You were envious over their merrymaking, gasping loudly as your maid tugged tighter on your corset. The dresser shook beneath your grasp, your nails digging into the wooden surface as she finished. Asa, your head maid tugged you into a proper standing position, before clicking her fingers at the other women in the room to assist her.
Your gown came into view, it was tight fitting and was supported by a lace cape. It was beautiful, but you knew you would struggle to move just by looking at it.
“How am I meant to support myself if someone attacks me?” You question, rubbing your fingers over the material.
“There are plenty of men down there to protect you, your highness.” Asa helps you into your dress, patting down any creases.
“I don’t need protection,” You hold your arms up, letting the other women work their magic. “I just can’t move around in this.”
“You only have to dance,” Another maid chimes in. “Can we start on your hair now your highness?”
You nod, sitting down by your dresser. Even sitting hurts your stomach, the corset digging into your skin.
It was your birthday, and as expected, your father was throwing an extravagant celebration in your honour. You were more excited for the kingdom, knowing how much they enjoyed a good party. Everyone was exceptionally happy now, knowing the monster that preyed on your people had been slain.
There was an Alghoul reeking havoc on your kingdom, and your father didn’t believe it was something needing the royals input. Taking things into your own hands, you took it upon yourself to request the Witcher’s help. When word got around that the creature was dead, you sent payment to its killer, as well as a formal invitation to tonight’s event.
“Your highness?” Small hands touch your arm, startling you from your thoughts.
“Mm, sorry what did you say?”
“You’re ready now, do you wish for me to call your escort?”
“That won’t be necessary, I’ll be walking myself,” Asa helps you stand, nodding at you. “I hope to see you all down there enjoying yourselves.”
The other maids bow as you leave, smiling at your words.
The walk down was painful, your heels digging into your feet with each step. By the third set of stairs, you had taken your heels off and carried them, not caring at the attention you may receive. Making your way to the main hall, you stood just a few rooms away, leaning against a pillar as you attempted to put your shoes back on.
“Does my lady need assistance?” A voice rang out, causing you to turn around.
A young man stood, eyes widening as he took in your appearance. He definitely wasn’t a local, judging by the way he shamelessly checked you out. It was actually refreshing, having someone give you a genuine attitude rather than a forced conversation.
“I’m afraid I cannot put on my shoes sir.” You respond, holding up the pair.
“What kind of man would I be if I didn’t help a woman in need,” The man chuckles, faking a bow. “Jaskier, at your service.”
“Pleasure to meet you Jaskier, who are you attending with?” Jaskier holds his hands out for your shoes, before bending down.
“I am with my very good friend Geralt of Rivia,” He gently places your shoes on. “And you my lady?”
Yes, definitely not a local. This will be fun.
“My father.” Was all you said, chuckling at the man as he stands.
“Do you need an escort?” He holds his arm out, and you shake your head.
“That won’t be necessary, but thank you.” Jaskier fakes a sad sigh at your words, but nods nonetheless.
“That is alright, I’ll be heading in now,” He fakes another bow. “I’m afraid my friend may be cutting the head off the king as we speak.”
It was clearly a joke, but you couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips.
“I’m joking!” Jaskier holds his hands up in defence. “I’ve just heard the royals are rather uptight is all.”
“The king is,” You shrug, patting down your dress. “The princess not as much.”
Jaskier also shrugs. “I’m sure she’s got a stick up her arse just like the lot of them.”
Is this what people thought of you?
“I’m sure I will see you in the main hall Jaskier.” You give the man a weak smile, and he bids you farewell. Taking a minute to collect yourself, you’re about to start walking again when loud footsteps greet you.
“Oh your highness! Thank the gods!” Asa is running towards you, and you tilt your head in her direction.
“You forgot this!” Asa lifts her hand, gasping for breath as she too collects herself. She lifts your tiara, and you realise a small ‘oh’ at its appearance.
“Here,” Your maid places it gently on your head, fixing the loose strands of hair that covered your face. “All set.”
“Thank you.” She curtseys at you, and you watch as she leaves.
Stepping foot by the main door, the keepers all bowed at you, one making a point of telling the caller that you had arrived. The doors opened, and the trumpets blared.
“Presenting her royal highness, Princess (Y/N) of Alvinia.”
It was easy to keep your head straight as you smiled at everyone. A chorus of cheers greeted you, followed by loud clapping. Raising your hand, the room quietens.
“Thank you for joining my family this evening,” Your voice reigns out. “We are most grateful for you all.”
More cheers followed, and you watched as your father nods at you from his chair. Truth be told, you wished for nothing more than to be out of the long gown and in the woods, training out of the watchful eyes of your people. Your father wasn’t aware of such activities, and you prayed it stayed that way.
Finally, you managed to take a seat by your fathers side, giving him a kiss on the cheek as you did. He smiles at you, and orders the staff to begin the feast. As people began bringing out food, you took the time to scan the room. There were endless amounts of people from all over the land. Some were already drunk, others sat quietly, and some chatted amongst themselves.
Then your eyes landed on him, the man stood out like a rose amongst dandelions. This was no doubt the Witcher. You never thought he would accept your invitation, and here has was, drinking ale as he talked to a familiar face. Jaskier. As if sensing someone looking at him, the Witcher turns his head, his golden eyes locking with yours. You couldn’t help but gasp.
“Something wrong daughter?” Your father asked from beside you, and you quickly shook your head.
“I saw someone trip over their dress, nothing too serious.” You reply, before nodding your head at a maid as a plate was placed in front of you.
He shakes his head, muttering something about a ‘silly girl’, immediately digging into his dinner. After finishing your meal, you waited for the others to follow. Shortly after, your father had cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the people.
“My good lords and ladies of the land,” He begins, wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Why are we still sitting? Is this not a party?”
People drunkenly applaud in response, but you tap your father on the shoulder, giving him a look.
“Hm, my daughter wishes to say a few words, I believe.” He waves his hand around, giving you the floor.
“Thank you all once again for attending tonight’s event, I’m sure you’re all very eager to continue celebrating,” More cheers fill the air, and you raise your hand. “But I wish to give another thank you to a certain individual, Geralt of Rivia.”
Mumbling soon follows, everyone searching the room for the man in question.
“Thank you Witcher,” You raise your drink in your hand, and whilst some hesitate, others soon follow. “For helping us in time of need. This celebration is yours just as much as mine.”
“Here here!” Jaskier responds loudly, smacking Geralt on the back. The man stands tense, clearly not liking the attention.
“Your efforts do not go unnoticed sir, my kingdom thanks you.” You tilt your drink in his direction, and he gives a curt nod.
Raising your drink to your lips, the room goes quiet as the others copy your movements.
“Right, now that we’ve established that.” The king clicks his fingers, and music fills the air.
Soon the large majority are up and dancing, and you excuse yourself. Some try asking you to dance, but you politely decline, making your way to a certain long haired slayer and his friend. The men have their backs to you, and Jaskier is busy flirting with a lady in waiting. The woman notices you, eyes wide as she curtsys and excuses herself from the conversation.
“I didn’t mean for her to leave.” You chuckle, startling the smaller man. He turns around slowly, properly bowing as grimaces.
“Your highness I did not mean anything I said out there, would you believe me if I said I was drunk? I believe I am incredibly drunk and I had no idea wha-“
“Jaskier, she doesn’t care.” Geralt interrupts him, noticing the way you’re giggling at the rambling man.
“No, no! Geralt you do not understand, I said some rather rude words and I-“
“He’s right Jaskier, I do not care.” You reply, continuing to giggle as the man visibly relaxes.
“Thank the gods, you weren’t wearing that,” He points to your tiara. “When we spoke.”
“It’s colour doesn’t bring out my eyes I’m afraid.”
“Yes well, if you excuse me your highness, I need another drink.” He bows, with a loose wave of his hand. Jaskier leaves you with Geralt, and the two of you watch as he walks away.
“Quite an amusing companion you have there,” You note, smiling as the man grunts in response. “But I guess I say companion loosely?”
“Very loosely.” He replies, taking another drink of ale.
“Well he did say he was a very good friend of yours, not to mention that you would be cutting the head off of my father.”
Geralt chokes on his drink at this, causing you to chuckle.
“Don’t worry,” You assure him. “I know you’re not going to do that.”
“Remind me to have a stern talk with my very good friend.” Geralt scowls at Jaskier from across the room.
“I will,” You clear your throat. “Which reminds me, I wish to properly thank you again for ridding us of that Alghoul.”
“You already thanked me.” He raises his cup to point at the room.
“I did, and I apologise for bringing the attention to you. I’m aware that your people face a lot of scrutiny, I wish to change that.”
Geralt stares down at you in surprise. “I’m sure this won’t change anything.”
“It may not, but you still deserve gratitude,” You hold your arm out, offering it to the man. “Shall we go for a walk? There is a lady eyeing you up like you’re her last meal.”
The Witcher hesitates, eyeing you.
“Unless that’s something you’re after?” You joke, and the man scoffs, taking your arm.
It’s hard to miss the looks the people give the two of you as you wander into the gardens.
“People are staring,” Geralt chuckles, and you wrap your arm tighter around his. “Aren’t you afraid of what people think of their young princess?”
“There is only a few things I am afraid of sir, what others think of me is not on the list.”
“And what are you afraid of?” He’s genuinely asking, and Geralt takes your hand as you walk up some stairs.
“I’d rather not say whilst there are others near, if you don’t mind.”
He nods at you, looking around at the other couples and attendees chatting away.
“Do you usually walk with strange men at night?” It’s a joke, but you shrug at him, your arm returning to his as you continue walking.
“Do you usually walk with princesses?” You retort, grinning as he rolls his eyes. The two of you stroll until you’re further into the gardens, the loud music only just reaching your ears.
“Are all birthday parties like this?” You give Geralt a confused look, and he continues. “Loud, I mean.”
“I am an only child, so my father likes to show off.”
“Enough about me,” You grab his hand, dragging him down to a bench. “Tell me about your adventures.”
“I’m not sure a princess would like to hear such gruesome stories.” Geralt chuckles, and you frown.
“I’ll have you know I’ve taken down my fair share of kikimora’s.” His chuckling subsides, his eyebrow raising at your confession.
“You,” He points at you. “Have killed a kikimora.”
“Three of them, they were attacking my people.”
“So why did you send me to kill the Alghoul if you can do it yourself?” Geralt is confused, and his arm rests behind you on the bench.
“I haven’t been able to leave the palace without proper supervision in preparation for my birthday,” You clasp your hands in front of you. “But I knew you would help.”
“You can use a sword.” It’s more of a statement than a question, and you nod again.
“I’ve been trained in secret by a friend.”
You can’t help but blush at his words, never having someone comment on your secret before. A comfortable silence befalls the two of you, and Geralt watches the stars. He was ethereal. The way the moonlight cascaded through his hair, the way the light made his eyes glow a little brighter. Beautiful.
“You’re quite beautiful.”
Geralt raises his eyebrow, smiling a little.
“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, Princess?” He quips, his smile reaching his eyes as you laugh.
“Do you think I’m beautiful too? Either way I’m afraid I had to say it,” You wave your hands in defence. “It’s my curse, honesty.”
“So we’ve found something else you’re afraid of hm?” He retorts, and you remember the conversation from before.
“I guess we have... I’m afraid of a forced life if I’m honest.”
“A forced life?” Geralt repeats.
“Being forced into a marriage with some man who only views me as a trophy, bearing children born not out of love, but ‘tradition’,” You can’t help but scoff, shaking your head. “Who wants their future designed for them?”
“Do you not wish to be queen?” He stares down at you in confusion. “Women dream about being where you are.”
“I care about my people, but I am not a pawn for someone else’s benefit, nor am I a carrier for children.”
He thinks of your words, nodding slowly. It’s quiet for awhile, until Geralt speaks.
“Why are you telling me all of this?”
“Because I envy you.” You grab Geralt’s arm again, noticing him tense in response.
“I’m not someone to be jealous of.”
“I’m envious of your freedom.” You sigh.
“I kill monsters, your highness.”
“And yet, you’re still free to do as you please.” Shrugging, you noticing someone running towards you.
“Then runaway.” Geralt also notices the figure as well, standing quickly.
“Easier said than done,” He helps you stand, and you peer to the side, noticing Asa making her way over. “Relax, it is my maid.”
“Your highness! Your highness! He’s here!” She gasps, not caring about the large man by your side. Your stomach drops, and you sit down again.
“Not him,” You groan. “Anyone but him.”
“Whose here?” Geralt asks, confusion evident in his tone.
“Lord Kalen, Princess (Y/N)‘s betrothed.” Asa replies, frowning as she does so.
“Don’t remind me,” Your head rests against the bench. “If that is all Asa, I wish to remain here for a little longer, thank you.”
She nods, curtsying before leaving.
“Can I just order you to kidnap me and take me away?” You’re only half kidding, and Geralt chuckles.
“And have a whole kingdom out for my head? Not sure how that would work.” He’s still chuckling, and you look away.
“Do you have somewhere to stay for the night Witcher?” You change the subject, causing the man to grin.
“Why, wish to get me in bed?” Gasping at him, you slap his arm from where you were sitting.
“I’m offering you a place here in the palace for the night, would you not prefer sleeping somewhere where you can actually fit in a bed?”
“Why?” He asks again making you groan, and the man stares in amusement.
“Yes or no Witcher, I will not ask again.” You probably would, if we’re honest.
He thinks over your words, before agreeing.
“Jaskier may stay too, I’m sure the two of you don’t like to be separated.”
Geralt’s amusement fades, a scowl taking over as you grin. He holds his hand out, and the two of you walk back to the palace. You seperate when you enter, and you asked a maid to prepare two bedrooms for the Witcher and his guest.
“My bride,” A hand touches your shoulder, and you can’t help the frown. “I have been looking for you.”
Faking a smile, you release a breath. “Lord Kalen! I’m so happy you could make it.”
“For my bride to be, anything.” The older man kisses your hand, and you attempted to hide your distaste to the best of your abilities. The lord was thirty years your senior, and you cursed your father in your head once again over the arrangement.
“Please, help yourself to some ale!” Grabbing a pitcher as a member of staff walks past you. “Enjoy yourself!”
“Oh I will, but I know what I would enjoy more.” His eyes gaze over your body, and you shiver in disgust.
“I’m afraid that’ll have to wait for our wedding night.”
“A shame really.” He sighs, grabbing the pitcher from your hands.
“Mm,” You notice Geralt watching you from the corner, Jaskier trying his hardest to get his attention. “A shame indeed.”
“If you’ll excuse me my lord, I’m not feeling very well.” You leave without an answer, making your way through the crowd. People attempt to stop you, but you excuse yourself to them and quickly hide on a balcony.
Making sure the curtains are drawn, you’re leaning over the edge in an attempt to catch your breath, the unease over the lord taking over. Soon after, the doors open from behind, and you don’t turn around.
“Asa I don’t need anything right now, please leave me be.” You whisper, your fingers gripping the cold stone beneath.
“Guess again.” It’s Geralt, and your head whips around. You don’t reply, instead sniffing in response. The man steps forward, until he’s in front of you. His fingers reach up, holding your chin gently.
“That is your husband?” He questions, cringing at the idea of the older man.
“Not yet, but he will be.” You sniff again.
Geralt’s jaw tenses, before he shakes his head.
“You are beautiful, by the way.” He mumbles, wiping away a stray tear.
“I didn’t get the opportunity to tell you before.”
“Oh,” You can’t help but lean into his touch. “Thank you.”
For once, it was nice to have a genuine compliment.
“Princess?” He’s peering down at you.
