Chapter Text
It was dusk, and Jaskier was watching from afar as Geralt sat on a rock towards the edge of the mountain. He hadn’t spoken a word since Borch fell off the mountain. That in itself wasn’t unusual, but his silence felt different. Pained, instead of contented. Jaskier let out a soft sigh and pushed himself to his feet, treading as softly as he could and setting himself on the rock beside Geralt. Geralt turned his head slightly as he approached, just to see who it was, but didn’t give any other acknowledgement that he was there. That, again, wasn’t unusual, but it also wasn’t unusual how it stung a little.
Jaskier thought about reaching out a hand and placing it on Geralt’s shoulder, but it wouldn’t go over well, that he knew. So he kept his hands folded in his lap, swallowing a few times before managing to speak. He kept his voice low, soft, as though not to disturb the quiet.
“You did your best. There’s nothing else you could’ve done,” He said. Geralt’s head twitched slightly but he still didn’t turn. Jaskier licked his lips and tried again, “Why don’t we leave tomorrow? That is, if you’ll give me another chance to prove myself a… worthy travelling companion.” He tried not to let too much emotion leak into his words, but failed. They tasted bitter as they came out of his mouth.
“Hmm.” Geralt said with a slight nod, and Jasker wasn’t sure if it was agreement or acknowledgement or something else, but he was elated to have any sort of response.
“We could head to the coast, get away for awhile? Sounds like something Borch would say, doesn’t it? Life is too short,” It was hope, now, bleeding into his voice, ugly hope that came from the slightest line that Geralt threw him, even though he was still fully expecting rejection, “Do what pleases you… while you can.” His voice was only a whisper now.
“Composing your next song.” Came the low rumble from beside him. Jaskier felt as though he should laugh, or sing, as if he were indeed composing instead of pouring his heart out to only the man next to him. But instead, he looked down.
“No, I’m just, uh… just trying to work out what pleases me.” He said. He could feel the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes as Geralt said nothing, moved not a muscle, barely even breathing. Jaskier was about to get up and walk away as quickly as he could manage without looking suspicious so he could go cry somewhere private. Then, Geralt did it again, throwing him a line of hope where he really shouldn’t.
“Why?” Geralt said, still not turning to face him.
“Why, why what, Geralt?” Jaskier said. He couldn’t tell if his courage was leaving or if more was entering him but he felt dizzy.
“Why should we leave.”
“Like I said, work out what pleases us,” Us, oh that felt far too intimate, time to backtrack, “I mean, you obviously need a break. Could be nice, you know, no monsters, just…” Just the two of us, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t.
Geralt was silent again, and Jaskier felt his nerve slip away entirely.
“Nevermind,” he choked, standing up unsteadily, “I know you don’t-” A hand gripped his shoulder, keeping him in place.
“Okay.”
“What?” Jaskier said weakly. And, gods, if he’d been unsteady before his knees were about to buckle now because Geralt was facing him, yellow eyes glinting in the dying sunlight, staring into Jaskier’s own eyes and searching for something.
“Okay. You want a chance to prove yourself, fine. But we’re doing it on my terms.” He said. Geralt let go of his shoulder, and it took everything Jaskier had to stay standing. He sank down onto the rock once again to hide his shakiness.
“Alright, yes, of course! But uh… what are those terms, exactly?” In his mind, he couldn’t help but think of course out of all of that, Geralt would stick onto Jaskier proving himself useful somehow.
“We’ll get moving at dawn. First town we reach, we get you a dagger.”
“What!” Jaskier shrieked, all caution thrown to the wind for a moment. Geralt raised an eyebrow and for a second everything felt normal between them, “Geralt, I don’t know how to fight!”
“Exactly,” Geralt said, a smirk pulling at his lips. He stood up, letting out a grunt as he straightened his back, “I won’t always be able to protect you.”
“So you want help, is what you’re saying.” Jaskier grinned.
“Hm.” Geralt started walking past him.
“I’ll take that as a yes!” Jaskier called triumphantly.
“Bold.” Geralt shot back over his shoulder.
“Right,” Jaskier said, still grinning, “Good talk.”
He was still grinning as he watched Geralt walk up the mountain, over to their bedrolls- wait, no, he was turning left instead of right, where was he going? The grin slid off his face in an instant as he realized that Geralt was going to Yennefer’s tent. His good mood had already been precarious and was now turned sour as Geralt lifted the flap and went inside. Jaskier bit his lip and all but stormed off to his bedroll.
Sometime later, in fact sooner than Jaskier expected, he heard footsteps approach and then a grunt as Geralt sat down on his bedroll beside him. Jaskier pointedly kept his back turned.
“Jaskier.”
“What?”
“Why haven’t you packed up yet? If we leave at dawn, we should be ready. The less time for questions, the better.
“Wh-” Jaskier sat up, “But I thought-” Geralt tilted his head, no expression on his face, and Jaskier fell silent. He stood up dutifully, and the two of them packed up all of their belongings except for their blankets(And of course, Geralt kept his armor out).
Once they were done, Jaskier lay down, staring up at the now-black sky, freckled with stars. It was beautiful, but he imagined it would be even more beautiful on the coast. Even clearer, somehow, even more special with Geralt beside him. Geralt. Jaskier tilted his head slightly, watching through the corner of his eye as Geralt settled into his bed for the night.
“What were you doing in-”
“Don’t.” He growled. Jaskier shut his mouth and turned his head straight again. He couldn’t help how conflicted he felt. Geralt had agreed to come with him, effectively getting him away from Yennefer. And yet, the first thing he’d done after agreeing was go to Yennefer. He tried to push away the jealousy that was welling inside his chest. Geralt had chosen to go with him, that had to be enough. Eventually, he relaxed enough for Geralt’s steady breathing to lull him to sleep.
Geralt opened his eyes at the first sign of light. He could see it, a golden halo around the opposing mountain peaks. He sat up, stretched, and looked at Jaskier passed out beside him. The bard almost always rolled to face Geralt, never getting too close, but sometimes an arm would fling out and jerk Geralt awake. Or, he would simply wake to messy hair and a snoring face turned towards him, and it would fill him with some sort of feeling. Annoyance, probably, or at least that’s what Geralt always told himself. There was that same feeling every time the bard was near, and he had decided to label it as annoyance in all cases. To avoid anything messy.
Messy, like deciding to go with the bard to the coast on a whim. Messy, like deciding to teach him to fight. Messy, like every situation the two of them got themselves into, but somehow Geralt always felt more alive when he got them out.
He stood up with a grunt, toeing at Jaskier’s arm. Jaskier let out a sleepy grumble and blinked open his eyes. His head lolled, and he looked blearily first at Geralt, then at the sky, then back at Geralt.
“I thought you said we were leaving at dawn?” He said, his voice rough with sleep, “There’s barely even light in the sky.”
“We’re leaving at dawn. Meaning we have to be ready before dawn.”
“Ugh.” Jaskier groaned, rubbing at his eyes. Geralt turned away.
“Pack up your things.”
“Uuuugh.”
“This was your idea. I’m assuming you don’t want me to change my mind.”
“No, nonononope, no!” Jaskier exclaimed, rolling and sitting bolt upright, “No, you’re right, crack of dawn, let’s go!”
Geralt snorted. Jaskier looked up at him for an odd moment, but then continued packing his things. They were ready in a matter of minutes, their packing up the night before helping them. Geralt slung his bag onto his back and looked expectantly at Jaskier, who had his things ready and was picking up his lute.
“Ready?” He asked. Jaskier nodded, eyes bright.
Geralt cast his gaze around the camp, seeing the dwarves bundled tightly against the mountain cold. Then, there was Yennefer's tent. He was surprised when there was only a tiny pang of hurt as he turned away. Jaskier was already starting off down the path, and Geralt had to take several long strides to catch up with him. Jaskier’s steps were light and he looked much happier than he had the night before. He had his lute out and was about to strum a chord.
“The fair-” Jaskier started, but Geralt growled out a warning.
“Please, give me some peace. At least until we get out of earshot. I don’t want to wake the rest of them up.”
“Very well.” Jaskier let out a dramatic sigh, but slung his lute back and crossed his arms as they walked. He could tell something was itching at the bard’s mind by the way he kept glancing over, opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water. But he said nothing. The silence wasn’t as blessed as Geralt liked to say. In fact, he’d grown used to Jaskier’s chatter. When they were far enough down the mountain that the other’s camps were nothing but dots and the sun had risen, Geralt looked over at Jaskier expectantly.
“Out with it.” He rumbled. Jaskier looked a little surprised.
“Um. It’s nothing.”
“It’s never nothing with you.” Geralt said.
“Really, it’s nothing.” Jaskier looked away.
“This silence is uncharacteristic of you.”
“I figured it would be welcome.” Jaskier said with a frown. Geralt grunted.
“As did I. But I suppose it’s not what I signed up for when I said yes, is it?”
“Suppose not.” Jaskier said, falling silent for only a moment before pulling his lute into his arms. He plucked out a few plaintive chords, then began trying out different strumming patterns. Some of the lyrics he was singing under his breath were ones Geralt had heard him working on during the climb up, and some were new.
The song he was piecing together was full of raw feeling in a way that most of his songs(or at least the ones Geralt heard) were not. Geralt wondered if he was simply composing like normal, or if this was his way of answering Geralt. Of course he knew it had to be the former, but his mind wouldn’t stop searching for meaning in the snippets that Jaskier sang aloud.
Lending credence to his curiosity was the fact that he was being so quiet, even singing. Usually he belted out his lyrics with not a care in the world for who could hear. But now, as they wound their way down the mountain, Geralt could only catch every few words.
“I’m weak my love, and I am wanting.” That was one phrase that he caught in its entirety. Jaskier’s voice broke on the word ‘weak’, and it sent a flash of something through Geralt. Annoyance, that had to be it still. That was the only thing he as allowed to feel in relation to the bard.
It took them the better part of the day, but they finally made it back down the mountain to where Roach was being kept. In a rare stroke of consideration, after packing their things onto Roaches back and climbing up, Geralt stretched his hand out to Jaskier.
“Get up.” He said. Jaskier looked surprised, but nevertheless accepted his hand and slung himself over the horse. Jaskier shifted himself so he was facing backwards, likely so he could play his lute without constraint.
“So, what’s our plan?” Jaskier said, leaning into Geralt.
“Coast. That’s what you said.” He could feel his words reverberating into Jaskier’s back.
“Well, yes, but neither of us specified the path we’re taking to get there. Are we going for a straight shot, or do you plan on taking jobs on the way?”
“Should probably take some if I want to teach you how to fight.”
“You can’t just throw me into battle, Geralt!” He said indignantly.
“Why not? Best way to improve.” Geralt joked. Of course, it didn’t sound like a joke, it carried the same even tone of everything he said.
“Best way to die!” Jaskier jabbed him gently with an elbow. Geralt let out a small huff of laughter.
“I should take some jobs just to make sure we have coin.”
“Ah, but you forget you have me!” He could practically hear Jaskier’s grin, “I can pull my weight in terms of coin, you know.”
“I know. But perhaps I don’t want to rely on people’s opinion of you to make sure we have a roof over our heads.” He said lightly. Jaskier exaggerated a gasp from behind him, or at least, Geralt was pretty sure it was exaggerated.
“Truly, Geralt, you should learn to be more kind to your travelling companion. Especially because you just may have to rely on people’s opinions of me! Contrary to what you think, I’m perfectly capable of being reasonable and likeable.”
“And yet you choose not to me.”
“Precisely.”
“And why is that?”
“Because you, Geralt,” Jaskier said, elbowing him in the side, “Are ever so fun to bother. All the annoyed grunting, it’s hilarious. You know, I could write a whole song about your grunting.”
“You won’t.” Geralt growled.
“Oh, but who’s to stop me?”
“Me. I will throw you off of Roach and go right back up that mountain.”
“You wouldn’t!”
“Want to test?” Geralt bared his teeth in some approximation of a smirk, looking over his shoulder at the bard who stared back indignantly.
“No.” He said, pouting. Geralt huffed in triumph.