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He wasn’t sure how he got to the foot of the mountain. Heavy rain was apparently falling down on him, soaking his clothes yet he felt no chill. Replaying the words over and over and over in his head until all he could hear was Geralt's voice screaming instead of his own thoughts. He fisted his hands into his shaking legs, his knuckles turning white from the pressure, his teeth clapping hard, either from the shock or the cold, he couldn’t say. Rationally he knew that he should gather his belongings, that were scattered on the ground next to him, and seek shelter but he was unable to move.
“Damn it, Jaskier! Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you shovelling it?”
When he closed his eyes he could still see Geralt's amber eyes glaring at him with burning fury. He could still see the veins on his neck pulse like a beast ready to tear its prey apart. 22 years they spent together on the road. 22 years where he had given everything to the Witcher, 22 years of him devoting everything he was to his… friend? No. While he had freely given his heart to him, the Witcher didn’t even regard him as a friend, no he only thought of him as a burden given to him by destiny to curse him furthermore.
“The child surprise! The Djinn! All of It! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!"
He was trembling now as the tears finally fell down his face. Angry at himself he started to wipe them away and rushed to get up. Jaskier was many things but being a quitter was not one of them. He gathered his things and started to walk off to the next town, leaving his Lute behind in the dirt and not looking back, not even once.
It was a strange feeling to travel alone again after all this time but he had adventures before Geralt, he would have adventures after him. He made it back to the town but didn’t stop there, too to high was the risk of running into Geralt or worse, Geralt and Yennefer together, laughing, holding each other and making goo-goo eyes at each other. His heart couldn’t take it, so he decided to march on, only making camp when his legs started to quiver underneath him and his knees buckled with the very thought of taking another step. He did not sing or compose that night, he was silently staring into the fire trying not to think… not to think about when they had first met in that crowded tavern or how the first shared mug of Ale had led him to follow the Witcher out into the night, not thinking about the laughs they shared, the joy they had, the adventures.
Much later he would realize that that first night alone wasn’t actually the worst one, that one would come much later when he had regained some of his ability to feel when he would forget for a moment and turn around wanting to show something to Geralt only to remember that he wasn’t there anymore. But, if you had asked him right at this moment this Jaskier would tell you that he had never felt so alone in the whole world as during that first night.
It wasn’t even the rain, that still hadn’t stopped or the coldness or the darkness, no, it was the absolute silence that surrounded him. And yes sure, the forest still made the usual, well, forest sounds and Geralt had never been a great talker true but usually, he would, well, listen. He would listen to one of Jaskiers stories and eventually throw in a “Hmm” or sometimes even snort in amusement, or just tell him to shut the fuck up. Now there was nothing, not even the sound of his own voice. He had tried singing to himself, earlier on the road, not one of his songs about the White Wolf but some of his much earlier work, but no song had left his throat, only cracks and the broken sounds of a shattered heart.
“It is like ordering pie and realizing it has no filling!”
Maybe it was a good thing, that he had lost his singing. He wasn’t going to sing about Geralt anyway so that left him without most of his repertoire so why not choose a new career path. When he was younger he always thought of becoming a Gardener so why not give that a try. It wasn’t like he had any other ideas. Thankfully he had enough coin on him so that he could survive for a while without having to sing and entertain in taverns and inns.
When the red Rage of Frustration left Geralt's eyes he was still sitting at the edge of the mountain, staring out into nothingness. He took a deep breath and turned around to look for the rest of his travelling companions. Yennefer would have already left through a portal but he needed to find his bard. He shouldn’t have shouted at Jaskier as he did, he wasn’t even sure where all his anger had come from. No, that’s not true actually, he was well aware where it had come from. From a fear rooted deep within him. For someone who was supposed to feel nothing, he was actually doing a shite job about not feeling anything. The last decade or so his life was full of feelings. Ever since he had met the young bard, he had experienced annoyance, anger, frustration and sorrow and all of that within the first 10 minutes of meeting Jaskier. And yet, he still had agreed to them travelling together. And the longer they walked the path together the more feelings he experienced.
Joy, Caring, Happiness, Devotion, Friendship and lately even Love. So he did the only thing he could think to do when his heart was frozen with fear of losing someone so fragile and human and mortal and that was to push him away, as far as possible and to focus on Yen instead, which to be frank was unfair to all three of them, but he knew Yen wouldn’t care, so that was alright. Yen and he were pushed together by destiny not love and they both had accepted that long ago. He knew it was a good thing that this time she and he had parted for good.
Now, his feelings for Jaskier, however, were a whole different thing and it scared him to the bone thinking about it. Jaskier was fragile, a human, slowly ageing and dying (a little) every day and yet he was like a curse, but only in the sense that there was no getting rid of him, Gods Geralt never wanted to get rid of him. He would never ever say it out loud but (to him) Jaskier was the sun in the sky, the one good constant thing in his life, the one permanent fixture, the one-
“What do you mean he left!? When!?” The dwarf he just shouted at took a few steps back, almost lunging himself of the small cliff path before stuttering his answer. “About an hour ago, good Witcher…” Geralt released the man where he held him angry at the collar and stomp off.
Stupid bard! He would get himself into trouble wandering off on his own. he always did. He could get attacked by a wild animal or worse take a wrong step and fall off the cliffside. It was already getting dark and heavy rainclouds gathered above the mountaintop. He started to decent as the rain came falling down in fast violent bursts and he soon had no other choice than to seek shelter in a small cave the muddy ground turning into a slippery death trap even for his skilled Witcher feet, he just hoped that Jaskier had found a way to wait out the rain. If he had known that waiting out the storm meant losing precious time to follow his bard and not seeing him again for 2 years he would have run down the mountain as fast as he could.
When he finally made it to the foot of the mountain the sun had already come up in the sky. Geralt approached Roach and made sure that she was all right. She brushed her head against his side and gave a questioning neigh. “I don’t know where he is Roach.” The horse made a frustrated sound and nagged him on. In a swift motion the Witcher mounted his horse and started to travel down the path, it was only logical that Jaskier would have moved in the direction of the small town they stayed in before reaching the mountain. It had only been a week ago that they had shared the small room above the kitchen, cuddled together in the only bed the room had to share warmth. Well, to keep Jaskier warm, the Witcher naturally ran hot. He could remember how warm Jaskiers skin had felt against him, how he had wiggled against him, to get comfy, smelling of chamomile, parchment and fresh flowers, but not fear, never fear. It was one of the things that deeply fascinated him about Jaskier. Not once, not even when he had first threatened to kill the bard and leave him dying in a ditch he had never smelled of fear.
Roach made a quiet sound and stopped in the middle of the road and Geralt was forcefully brought back to the present. “What is it, girl?” She snivelled the ground and Geralt saw a few wet footprints. Quickly he dismounted and followed them into the woods to find a small clearing. Someone, Jaskier, had made a fire here recently and- The Lute! His fucking Lute was sitting next to a tree as if it fucking belonged there. Fear and Anger started to boil in Geralt's veins and it took him three full breathes to calm himself. He used his survival skills to first make sure the Lute was left behind on purpose and second that Jaskier had not in fact managed to get himself into trouble this quickly. There was a tiny part of him that hoped for Jaskier needing to be rescued, for him to swoop in and save him once again from danger only to be showered with the bard’s affection and thanks.
Sadly the camp looked like the young human had simply left his Lute behind on purpose. If you had looked real close then, you would have seen the tiny tremble in the Witchers hands as he grabbed the instrument and fastened it to his horse’s saddle. The rain had turned the road into mud and it was easy to track Jaskiers footprints through the woods or at least so he thought because after a while it seemed as Jaskier had realized that he was leaving tracks and he started to use a few tricks Geralt had thought him to keep anyone from tracking him. The White Wolf was as impressed as he was worried.
Jaskier made his way south. He didn’t realize how it happened but he blinked and a few weeks had passed. He pretended to be fine and had even reached a level of denial so that he actually managed to be happy and smile during the day. The reality, however, was that he had lost his singing and that he had even stopped trying to a few days ago. Every time he opened his mouth to start a tune all that came out was the screech of a wounded animal and so he had given up. But this meant that now for the first time in his long, long life he (had) started ageing. No song to support him, no song to charm, no smiling and happy crowd around him to feed him. He could, of course, choose the route of his more monstrous cousins and simply kill to get the lifeforce he needed but Jaskier hadn’t given up his tail to walk on land among the humans to become a monster. All he wanted was to entertain and make people happy with his songs and love. And now he wasn’t able to even do one of those things, which meant he was slowly ageing and dying.
Deep within him, he knew that the fact should scare him, but it was a relief to him, as a life without Geralt was a half-life anyway. He had travelled every day as far as he could, to bring as much distance between him and that retched mountain as possible. He only allowed himself to crash for a few hours, and only when his legs could not carry him any longer. He was aware that he was exhausting himself but he needed to reach the south coastlands before he would die. He needed to feel the sand between his toes, the salty water against his skin. If only he had asked Geralt sooner, if only he had agreed to settle down at the coast with him. A fool's dream, a Witcher doesn’t settle down, especially not with an annoying bard.
His coin purse was running thin and he took every odd job he could find to survive. Cleaning stables, writing love letters for nobles, helping out in kitchens or even babysitting, anything but singing as his voice was as broken as his heart.
The months went by and Geralt was so frustrated and angry all the time that even Roach was mad at him. Jaskiers trail had grown cold, so very cold in fact that at times Geralt woke from his slumber, scared that the bard was dead and lost to him forever. What a fool he had been, he should have treasured every moment, every laugh, and every slight touch. He should have let Jaskier know how he felt but now it was too late. Every town he came thru he gave Jaskiers description to the people and asked if anyone had seen him but every time the answer was the same. They hadn’t seen him. And even when they saw someone who matched his description the person in question had not sung in the taverns at night, had not filled the hearts of the people with joy and love, had not bedded every young maiden in town before moving on.
There was nothing that he could do, he thought it would be easy to find his… THE bard again but it seemed like destiny was against him as she always was. So all he could do now was to make sure that the only part about destiny that mattered now would come to pass and so with a deep sigh, he turned roach around and started his journey to find his child surprise.
Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon or just Fiona as she went by now blinked her tired eyes open and took in her surroundings. She was still on a horse, perched against a warm chest. “Where are we?” Her voice was quiet and still heavy with sleep. “Almost there, princess.” “I told you not to call me that….Julian.” “Touché.” Jaskier laughed but it sounded tired and strained. When he ran into the young princess a few weeks ago he was not sure if it was luck, destiny or something completely different, but the bard knew that he had to make sure that Ciri was save. He wasn’t sure how he actually got her to trust him but she knew who he was and agreed to travel with him. He managed to acquire a horse, well he stole it, and they had been travelling south to reach the coast and hide there. Unlike the Witcher, Ciri was an easygoing travelling companion that laughed loud and clear and appreciated his stories.
She was kind, funny and grateful to him and yet every time she said something nice to him it left a bitter taste in his mouth. Missing Geralt had become second nature to him, like breathing or walking, and being with Ciri was like a constant reminder of what could have been. At night when he fell into an uneasy sleep, he could still hear Geralt's bitter words, could still feel the heartbreak, over and over again. When he woke in the middle of the night from his restless slumber he wasn’t even able to cry anymore, he had given Geralt all of his tears and now only quiet, dry sobs left his throat.
On one of those occasions Ciri was at his side and after holding him close and asking him what was wrong in her kind warm tone of voice he had given in and told her everything, How he had met Geralt over 20 years ago when he was just an unknown singer in a shitty tavern at the end of the world, how they travelled, lived, laughed and fought together. How he fell in love with the stoic Witcher and how he lost his singing, rendering him basically mortal. She had looked at him with her big blue eyes, shedding tears for him he could not cry himself. “Is there no way to get your singing back Jaskier?” she had asked and he had silently shaken his head. His muse has left him and without the golden sunlight of Geralt's eyes there was no tune left inside his heart. After that, they had become even closer. Jaskier never thought about having children of his own but his fatherly feelings for the young princess grew with every day they spent together. Her company eased his loneliness and hope began to grow in his heart, maybe just maybe he could find another muse before his days were over for good.
It was early spring when they finally reached the coast. They both worked as hard as possible on their way there and with their combined funds they managed to buy a small cottage on a small cliffside overlooking the stormy seawater. Jaskier wasn’t stupid and he knew that now that they had stopped, Geralt would eventually make his way here to find his Child Surprise and he Jaskier should leave before that happened but how could he when he had promised Ciri to keep her save. Not that he was much of a help without his alluring singing voice. She was much better equipped to wield a sword than he ever would be but he still didn’t want to leave her to fend for herself. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be alone himself, craving attention and friendship and someone who actually cared about him.
They settled in quite easily as if they had always lived together. Jaskier sold the horse and bought some seeds to grow in the small garden, Ciri would train each day and they would dye her hair a reddish-brown with beet juice and roots to hide her heritage. With her bright blue eyes and the soft features, she could easily pass as his sister and that’s the cover they choose to use. One day when she woke screaming from a nightmare and shattered the windows with her loud scream, Jaskier pulled her into his chest as she was shaking, scared and embarrassed and so very afraid of the power deep inside of her. So he set her down the next day and taught her how to control your breathing, how to throw your voice and all the other “tricks” his kind knew.
How to charm or frighten with the tone of your voice alone and how a song could turn the battlefield around. She looked at him with her big innocent eyes then and asked “Is this why you weren’t ageing before? You said you had travelled with Geralt for 22 years but you don’t look a day over thirty and I hardly doubt he would take a child on his adventures.” Jaskier laughed and ruffled her blonde almost white hair. “You are too smart for your own good sweetheart.” His smile turned a bit sad as he suddenly gazed out to the ocean. “My brothers and sisters. They are not like me and if you ever meet one you need to either run or make sure they cannot lure you in with their song, do you understand?” His fingers grabbed at her shoulders as he made sure she would understand his meaning. “Their Song? You mean like…a Si-“Yes dear, a Siren.”
Her Grandmother had, of course, told her about the tailed half humanoid creatures that lived in the sea and lured innocent people to their death with their song, sucking the life force right out of them, rendering themselves immortal. “But you are not…?” Unsure how to formulate her question she blinked at him. “No, I don’t…I discovered very early that I enjoy much more to feast on the joy I bring to people with my singing. That with the right muse I can…” His eyes glimmered in the dim light and he wiped over them forcefully with the back of his hand. “It doesn’t matter now. I will not go back into the sea, and I won’t steal the life of others.” Ciri sobbed and hurled herself into him, pushing him into a big hug. “I don’t care. You are my brother.” And for the first time in his life ever since he met the Witcher, Jaskier felt accepted and even loved and he tightened his arms around her. “I just miss him…” he whispered more to himself than to be heard.
Geralt finally gave in. He let Roach decide which road to take and destiny to lead him where he needed to go. After a while, he realized that his loyal mount choose to head south and a bitter lumpy feeling grew in his stomach. He could have been there, with Jaskier if he only agreed to run away with him. If he would have just stopped being so damn stubborn for a minute and appreciate what he had right in front of him for twenty years. He missed the soft brown hair that curled a little bit around Jaskiers ears when it grew longer, the soft blue eyes so heavy with emotions, the silky soft looking pink lips and his everlasting smile that hasn’t changed a bit in the last two decades.
Now that Geralt had time to really think about his former travelling companion, and he did so every waking minute he wasn’t disposing of monsters to gather some coin for his journey, he had realized that for someone in his late forties the bard basically looked exactly the same as the day they had met in that lousy tavern. Fear took its strong grip in his heart. What if his little songbird was cursed or worse tied to him in some way? What if he was at fault for Jaskiers unchanging appearance and what if he hated him for it? From that day on that little voice in Geralt's head tormented him with vile thoughts about his bard. He rushed Roach on to go faster, to reach wherever they were headed faster so that he could maybe finally find some rest.
He was travelling for week’s trough the ugly sight of autumn. It had been raining for days and days and most roads were closed since they were unsafe for travel. The main road, as well as the smaller side paths to the coast, were flooded and there was no chance in hell that Roach could make the trip. So Geralt did something he had never done before. He left her behind. Determent to find his journey's end he left her in a stable in a small river town and bought a small rowboat to scale the river with. He overpaid for the boat since the fisherman wasn’t gonna aid in something he deemed suicidal but Geralt didn’t care. All he knew deep in his heart was that he needed to take the boat along the river, out into the stormy ocean and along the shoreline. He said goodbye to his stead, boarded the small wooden boat and turned to face his destiny.
To be fair even though he always hated the idea of fate guiding him he didn’t expect to die like this. Of course, he knew that taking a boat out to a wild sea in the middle of a storm was stupid but he thought that if he followed his heart he would finally be where he was supposed to be no more running. But maybe this was his destiny, to have this small boat smash against heavy rocks lured by the singing of Sirens. He could see them sitting on the wild rocks with their pointy nails and teeth, hungry staring at him. As a Witcher, he was immune to most magic but their song carried a familiar tune and something in his heart stirred and swelled until he was unable to withstand anymore. The broken boat sunk down the heavy waves as he started swimming. Snickering and sharp teeth awaited him and he closed his eyes as he let the cold water wash over him. If this was how he was supposed to die, then so be it. He just wished that Jaskier- “GERALT!” Geralt's eyes flew open just before one of the Sirens could grab him and he flung around, trying to stay afloat in the ice-cold water. Amber Eyes stared into Blue Ones and a big smile started to form on his face. The Gods had finally claimed him and sent him to heaven. At least his death had been painless. “Jaskier….” He whispered before darkness came over him.
“That stupid shit smelling son of a whore!” Jaskier was furious. His whole body was shaking as he stomped through his cottage. It was the third day that Geralt was sleeping in Jaskiers bed and even though the healer had assured him that his Witcher was fine and just needed to regain his strength he was still so worried that he didn’t sleep himself. Ciri, bless her soul, took care of the garden and took over the cooking, since Jaskier himself had been useless ever since he had dragged the unconscious Witcher into his home. It was only out of pure luck that he was outside his house watching the heavy waves wash over the stony shore when he saw the small boat and his inhabitant. He had moved before he could even think about it, shedding his clothes while he was running and diving right off the cliff into the dark ocean water. It had been hundreds of years since he had last felt the tight embrace of his homeland and for a second he forgot what he was supposed to do, for a second all he wanted to do was swim, and sing and eat and as the hunger rose inside of him he almost forgot himself. But destiny intervened and he saw Geralt go overboard, swimming to his hungry cousins, clearly affected by their shrieking, a poor imitation of his song, and he forced himself to distance himself from the call of the ocean. He reached his Witcher right the second he passed out from the magic around him and dragged him to shore.
Ciri waited for him, took one look at his naked form and the almost drowned Witcher and just told him that she would go get the healer, then left running. Now three days later the colour slowly came back to Geralt's cheeks and his breathing had become evener. Jaskier was still furious with him but worried at the same time and he rehearsed in his head over and over what he wanted to say to him. He knew that Geralt would probably just brush him off and ignore him further. His heart was heavy and he felt tears well up in his eyes. “He’s waking up.” Ciri’s soft voice pushed him out of his heavy thoughts and he nodded. “I am heading to town to buy some fresh bread.” They both knew they had still plenty of bread left but Jaskier appreciated the fact that she was giving them some space. He took a deep breath, prepared some soup and carried the tray into his own bedroom.
Seeing Geralt in his bed raised all kinds of pushed down feelings in him but he forced them down. The white-haired man slowly blinked and sat up, taking in his surroundings. Before he was even awake a bowl of soup was thrust into his hand and a lovely voice angrily told him to eat. “What were you thinking Geralt?! By the Gods has the last Striga you fought kicked your stupid head in!?” Instead of answering Geralt silently smiled at Jaskier, taking him in while slowly sipping at the delicious soup. “A boat Geralt! A fucking BOAT! IN A THUNDERSTORM!” His bard was shaking with anger and fury and Geralt loved every second of it. It meant he was well and alive and there was a chance for them to- “And where the fuck is Roach? Don’t tell me she finally had enough of your shitty attitude and left you huh!?” Geralt continued smiling at his ranting bard and took a deep breath. The heavy scent of chamomile and parchment overwhelmed him completely and suddenly he knew what the smell reminded him of. It smelled like home. Jaskier was his home and he would never let him leave again. He sat up straighter and pushed the now-empty bowl onto the nightstand.
Jaskier noticed his shaking hands and all anger rushed out of him, he grabbed Geralt by the shoulder as to steady him. His finger dug into the Witchers skin and his throat suddenly felt very dry. “Geralt….” His Witcher looked at him with a soft smile that Jaskier had never seen before on his face. The Siren opened his mouth to ask if Geralt was okay but no words left his mouth as the Witcher pressed a chase kiss to his lips. “I love you Jaskier.” Blinking Jaskier took a step back, his fingers touching his own lips to chase the feeling of the kiss. He looked back witch shock at Geralt, who had promptly fallen back into the pillows and was gazing at him with such intent and love it made Jaskiers knees weak. “Are you cursed?” The Witcher shook his head, an amusing grin on his lips. “Bewitched then?” “No. Jaskier” The bard blinked harshly and shook his head. Sudden anger rising inside of him once more.
What is it then? Pity? Have you decided that the words you said to me last didn’t cut deep enough? Must you taunt me now with what I feel for you? Must you be as cruel as to-“The sentence died on his lips as Geralt roughly grabbed his hips and pulled him into him with such force that he tumbled and fell onto the Witcher, who promptly moved them around so he was pressing the bard into the bed with his weight. “Look at me Jaskier.” His voice was rough and full of emotion and Jaskier found himself unable to resist the order. “I am an idiot.” “Well, that is the smartest thing you ever said to me. Continue.” “What I said that day. It has haunted me ever since. Words spoken harshly without thinking and never meant to truly push you away. I…” He swallowed and paused for a second. Baring his feelings was hard for him but he knew that he needed to do so if they could ever move on together. “I love you. I have so for a long time but I was scared. Scared that you would realize that I was just a boring brute, a monster only good for killing. I was scared that you would leave, so I pushed you away first.”
Jaskier was silent for a few minutes. Long minutes where he tried very hard to ignore the delicious weight of Geralt above him, how Geralt's skin smelled of leather and salt and how his groin rubbed against the Witchers thick thigh. Finally, his brain caught up with his Witchers words and he focused his attention back to Geralt's face. “That’s the stupidest thing you ever said to me Geralt. I would have never left you if you hadn’t sent me away.” Geralt looked sad and still scared as Jaskier continued. “Do you, do you still…I mean I understand if you don’t, I mean. I am ageing now and…” He rambled and turned his face into the soft pillow, eyes full with unshed tears, cheeks burning with embarrassment. Geralt's big hand gently reached for his chin and turned his face around to look into the tear heavy eyes. “Jaskier…” he whispered softly into the bards’ ears. “I don’t understand the ageing, and I don’t care. You are you and I am yours for as long as you’ll have me.”
A soft sob escaped Jaskiers mouth as he brought his arms and legs around Geralt's huge form and pulled him closer. “Forever then.” He smiled and dragged his Witcher down onto him for a fierce kiss. This time there was nothing chaste about it. This time it was all heat and suppressed emotions and as Jaskier let out a heavy moan Geralt slipped his tongue into his mouth and pushed his wrists up above his head. “Geralt, please. I need.” “Tell me Jaskier, tell me, I give you anything, you need only ask.” “Clothes off!” Geralt loosened his grip on Jaskiers Wrists to make fast work of his shirt and Breeches. He paused as the bard was finally naked and wanting under him and pushed his face into the crook at his lovers’ neck, inhaled deeply and let himself truly enjoy himself. “Jaskier, my sweet little lark.” His bard let out a deep chuckle that quickly turned into a heavy moan as Geralt started to kiss him up and down his chest and hips. His blunt nails scrapped frantically over Geralt's back and finally found themselves entangled in his surprisingly soft hair just as Geralt reached his thigs and covered them in hot open-mouthed kisses.
Jaskiers hands gripped the bedsheets and he pushed his hips upward to get some friction but Geralt cleverly moved his head out of the way every time the bard would move. “Stop teasing you asshole!” Jaskiers voice was husky and breathless as he raised his head to glare at the Witcher. “Ask nicely little lark.” Geralt lashed his tongue on Jaskiers soft skin just a few inches away from where he truly wanted to taste. “Please. Please. Need you please just….Geralt please?” Chuckling the Witcher gave in and licked his way from the root of Jaskiers cock right to the top before swallowing him down and sucking hard. Jaskiers hand found his hair again and his delicate fingers grabbed onto him as if his life depended on it. Soon only heavy breathing filled the air and for the first time in his long life, Jaskier found himself speechless.
Afterwards, Jaskier found rest on top of Geralt, their limbs intertwined, holding on tight as he was still afraid Geralt would get up and leave. His eyes were closed and his nose was pressed against the Witchers neck, enjoying the heavy hands that softly brushed through his hair. After a while, Geralt cleared his throat. “So, you have a lovely home?” Jaskier snorted and cuddled closer to his bedmate. “Really Geralt? Small Talk?” A heavy sigh escaped the Witcher as he was unsure how to proceed. He had opened his heart and finally told Jaskier how he felt but the bard hadn’t actually said anything back and he was uncertain where he was standing now.
“I- I can leave as soon as the weather is better.” His voice was uncharacteristically soft and small and Jaskier moved a bit away from him to raise his head and look at him. He sat up and took Geralts Hand into his own, lacing their fingers together. “If that is what you want I won’t make you stay Geralt.” His voice was so full of understanding and love that Geralt had to swallow hard before realizing that maybe the bard didn’t want him to leave after all. He shook his head and put his free arm around Jaskier to draw him in closer. “No, I… FUCK. I am not good at this.” He took a deep breath. “I love you. I want to stay with you. I need. I need…” Another deep breath and then words came out of him like vomit, and all the things he always wanted to say but never could find the words for fell off his lips. “When you are away from me I can’t breathe. I can’t sleep and food tastes like bitter ash in my mouth. There is only the hunt keeping me forward and nothing makes sense. I miss your babbling, your stupid singing, and your smile your constant annoying voice, your laughter. I don’t want to leave again, but I have been running away from destiny all my life and I cannot do so anymore. I need to find my Child Surprise and then if you still have me I will return with her here and be with you for the rest of your life.”
Jaskier just stared at him speechless when he suddenly felt a heavy weight lift from his chest and the spark of magic relighted inside of him. “Ah, my dearest Witcher. Of course, I will have you. I love you too!” Relief washed over Geralts Face and Jaskier realized that he hadn’t actually said those words out loud yet. He grabbed Geralts Face between his hands and placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “I love you.” A sweet kiss to his nose. “I love you.” His eyelids. “I love you.” His cheeks and then finally with a last “I love you” his lips. Over and over again until his own Lips felt sore and bright pink from biting and kissing. Geralts arm crushed around him in a tight grip and both their laughter filled the room before Jaskier kissed his forehead once more. “Geralt, I need to tell you something…” He looked uneasy and uncertain and Geralt wanted to wipe the uneasy smile off his face, replace it with true happiness. “What is it my little songbird?”
Jaskier stood up and brought some distance between them, fear seeping from his pores that filled Geralts nostrils. The Witcher looked at him patiently, waiting for the bard to continue. “I need you to let me finish the story okay? I need to get it out in one go otherwise I won’t be able to tell it. Do you understand?” Geralts nodded “Hmm.” “I wasn’t born in Lettenhove, I wasn’t even born on land….” And so Jaskier told him about his childhood, swimming with the other Sirens, devouring humans and animals alike, everything they could lure into the dark depth of the ocean. He told him about his blue tail and that his song was always different from those of his siblings. He told him that he hated the killing, the feeding and that then one day he tried to take his own life, unable to live such a cursed life anymore. Instead of dying he was saved by a sorceress who gave him a choice. To die or to walk among the humans, a new life to be given.
He had chosen the latter and his new life took him all over the continent, every song he sung, every melody he spun entertained and brought joy to the people and he was so full of energy and happiness that he never needed to hurt someone ever again. And then one day when he had lived as a human for almost fifty years already a Witcher sat broodingly in the corner of a tavern and destiny had gripped his heart and wrapped strings of fate around it.
“So you see, I am the Monster out of the two of us.” He did not cry he just stood and handed Geralt his silver sword, took a few steps back and kneeled on the floor, waiting for the Witchers final Judgment.
A Moment passed, then another and finally Geralt stood, towering over the naked Siren. Jaskier closed his eyes and waited, smiling and only reopened his eyes in shock when he heard the Sword fall to the floor as he was pulled into warm arms. “Are you…are you perhaps short of a marble!?” Geralt used his own words that he had spoken so many years ago, against him now as he drew him closer to his chest. “You stupid idiot.” A sobbing laugh escaped Jaskiers throat as he wrapped his own arms around the man now kneeling before him. They stayed like that for minutes before he felt Geralts lips against his own once again. “You don’t mind then?” he asked, his voice still full of fear and small but Geralt only shook his head, his white hair flying around him. “It only means that I will be able to be at your side for much longer than a human life my love.” Relief and Happiness washed over the bard as he climbed into Geralts lap. “I meant what I said, I will hunt down the child and then return to you my little lark.”
A cough from the open door caught his attention and as he looked up he saw Ciri standing there, half-covering her own eyes. “You found me, congratulations. Now will you two please put some clothes on!” she turned around and walked back into the living room as Jaskiers loud laughter shelled through the whole house and Geralt looked at him dumbstruck. He was still shaking from laughter when they, now both dressed, sat down in the small living area of the house, Ciri bringing them hot steaming tea. She ruffled trough Jaskiers hair and then took place opposite them, sipping her own hot brew. Geralt opened his mouth a few times only to close it again, lost for words. “Hmm.”
Finally, Jaskier took pity on him and told him how he and Ciri had met, that she saved him or maybe he had saved her, that when they found each other they saved each other and that they had come here together only a few months earlier to wait out the war. And Geralt listened and listened and drank the sweet honey-laced tea he was handed and ate the cheese and bread that Ciri prepared and he nodded at the right parts in the story and his belly and heart and his whole being were full with love and warmth and the feeling of being home. He drifted off after a while just looking at them, forgetting the world around him until he felt Jaskiers hand at his shoulder, shaking him back to the here and now. “Did you hear the last part?” He shook his head and tried to apologize but Jaskier just kissed him again and continued. “I said that you should get Roach when it stops raining and we can spend the winter here at the coast and then travel again.”
“Travel?” he asked like an idiot and stared at the bard. “Yes, Geralt. You are a Witcher. I am not gonna make you stay here like a housewife and die of boredom. We will survive the war and make sure Ciri gets proper teaching from a mage and there’s always monsters to be slain and songs to be sung.” Warmth spread into Geralts stomach so hot he felt like he was on fire and he pulled Jaskier back onto his lap, kissing him deeply until they were both out of breath. “We´ll go to Kaer Morhen then after the winter has passed. She will be save there.” Jaskier nodded and closed his eyes, rested his head against his lovers’ chest. “Just promise me that if the path takes us onto different directions again you will find your way back to me.” Geralt kissed him then with an all-consuming intensity. “I swear” he whispered into the bards’ ears and truly it. As meant he had finally found his one true Home.