The Witcher - Imagines and One Shots

Fabled Princess - Geralt x Reader

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jaskier asked as he and Geralt made their way into the city. The Witcher and his bard causing quite a stir as they wound their way through the bustling streets that were filled with market stalls. The vendors and their customers staring as the white-haired man passed.

"Me? You're the one that hasn't been able to stop talking about this fabled princess. You're the one that has gone on and on about us sneaking into this damn masquerade ball. And now that we are actually here, you are changing your mind?" Geralt asked, as he turned to look at the man behind him.

"It's just that the king isn't your biggest fan, and if we are recognised at the celebration, it probably won't end well." Jaskier added, Geralt remembering back to the last time he had been in the city. The Witcher hired to go after a sorceress that lived in the countryside just beyond the boundaries of the city. The creature had threatened the life of his daughter, and the king was determined not to lose his child as he had his wife. But the clash between the Witcher and the old harridan had caused quite some damage, and Geralt had had to make a quick escape. The king's men in hot pursuit.

"The whole point of a masquerade ball is that people don't recognise you, Jaskier. And once you've seen this princess (Y/n) you might actually stop annoying me about her." Geralt replied, as they made their way through the tavern door, and up to the bar.

Everyone knew of princess (Y/n). There was not a soul that had not heard of the half elf's ethereal beauty. Not a man that did not want to call her his own. Yet the princess had always refused any suitor that had come her way, so the masquerade ball was her father's latest attempt at finding his beloved child a suitable husband. And hopefully ensure an heir to the throne.

"We will be fine. No one will even notice us. You can see your princes, and then we can get out of here." Geralt continued, as the buxom young lady handed the two men a drink, before winking and giggling at the big pale haired man. Jaskier not sure that Geralt was right.

                                                             >>-------------------------------<<

(Y/n) looked in the mirror. Brushing away the single tear that rolled down her cheek. The sound of the music, laughter and the murmur of hundreds of voices already filling the palace. She knew why her father had organised the celebration. She knew that he hoped to use the night to find her yet another eligible suitor. Some other man that would see nothing but the way she looked. That could not see passed the façade to the woman inside. To the woman that needed something more than a prancing, preening peacock of a prince or lord.

(Y/n)'s mother was an elf. One of the most beautiful creatures ever born. Her father, the king, had himself been seen as the most eligible of men. A warrior of elegant and well-defined stature. A man that had cut an impressive figure. Yet (Y/n) had outshone the pair. She was exquisite, ethereal, loved wherever she went, and by anyone that met her. But like her mother, (Y/n) had depths that only the man that she was truly meant to love, could see. Yet (Y/n) was still to find the man that could make her sad heart smile. And as the time passed, she doubted that she ever would.

"(Y/n)." The king called out as he entered her room. (Y/n) hastily wiping the tears from her eyes and grabbing for her hairbrush.

"You look beautiful, my dear. As always you will create quite a stir. Your mother would have been so proud of you." The king told her as he leant over and kissed the top of her head.

"The celebration is well underway, and all that it is missing is the guest of honour." The king continued, as he placed a mask over his daughters face before taking her hand and escorting her from the room.