The White Werewolf || Season One: Ties That Bind

Chapter Twenty-One

Arc Coast, 1240

"I don't know how you get it so tangled," Robin mused, trying to be as gentle as she could as she combed out Geralt's silver tresses.

Jaskier was sharpening a straight razor on a leather strap, stopping every few strokes to eye it critically. "Well, he fights monsters all the time. Gets all sorts of filth in there. And he never ties it back properly, despite my efforts."

Geralt grunted as Robin tugged on a particularly difficult knot. She kissed his scruffy neck affectionately. "Sorry," she apologized.

"It's fine," he growled.

A few minutes later, she had his hair entirely smooth. Then she brushed the comb in rosemary oil and ran it through the strands until it shone.

Geralt frowned slightly as she started to braid it intricately, starting at the crown of his head and stopping at the nape of his neck, leaving it loose after that.

"I am sure I look ridiculous," he observed.

"Hardly. You're quite dashing," Robin assured him.

"I agree," Jaskier said blithely, walking over with the razor and a small bowl.

He sat in front of Geralt, using a rag to spread the substance in the bowl on his face. "So bristly," Jaskier complained. "Are you sure that's hair?"

Geralt grunted and Robin giggled as Jaskier stood and moved behind Geralt with the razor. "Come, dear sister. I'll teach you how to do this in case I'm ever indisposed."

She joined him. Jaskier carefully tipped Geralt's head back. The witcher narrowed his eyes at him, but his expression softened when he looked at Robin.

"I get it, you have a favorite," Jaskier quipped. "You want to get as close to the skin as possible for a smooth, clean shave."

"Or I could just not grow hair like you," Geralt murmured teasingly.

"Do you want me to slice right through your throat, Geralt?" Jaskier wondered conversationally, swiping the razor up smoothly, showing his sister how it was done.

He handed it to her, urging her to try. She was a little slower, and much more nervous, but she managed.

"I'd heal if you slit my throat," Geralt quickly added between strokes.

"Not if I did it well enough," Jaskier protested softly, winking at him.

Robin finished shaving Geralt's face and neck under Jaskier's careful supervision. When she was done, she rubbed more of the rosemary oil into his now relatively smooth skin.

"You're very handsome," she told him, kissing his nose.

He ignored the compliment. "Let me do your hair next," he suggested.

"It will take a good deal longer," she cautioned him.

Loose, her hair fell to her waist in thick waves.

"I don't mind."

He sat behind her and started to carefully undo her braids. She could easily unravel them magically, but he enjoyed pampering her like this, especially on the road.

Once her hair was down, he pushed his nose into the folds and breathed in her scent.

Lavender and mint. The two herbs she used most frequently in household salves and tinctures. She also put lavender oil in her hair, and chewed mint after meals to keep her mouth fresh. He could taste it when he kissed her. It always tingled against his lips.

He knew that he would never forget her scent. It was comfort. It was solace.

It was home.