Archive of Our Own

They had met her in the tavern where they'd be spending the night. It wasn't on purpose, but it was, as always, a good occasion to catch up on, to share a drink, maybe a good laugh between the usual exchange of snarky remarks. Geralt had gone to check on Roach, and the two others were left on their devices and a bottle of cheap cintran ale. Jaskier was sipping his tankard, while Yennefer was staring at him over her own. It was a strange, unusual moment of silence. But she was thinking, looking at him.

"How long have you been traveling by his side now anyway? How many decades?"

Jaskier shrugged.

"One stops counting after a while.

- And yet, you don't look a day over thirty..."

He nodded in his tankard.

"... Care to explain? Just walking by his side you should have died a thousand deaths already."

His eyebrows shot up in a delighted surprise.

"Oh you want to know the story? It's quite funny actually!"

The mage tried very hard to hide her merriment at his forwardness. She had expected him to avoid the issue, to hide something, but he seemed genuinely happy to enlighten her on this matter.

"So, it was quite some time ago..."

It was supposed to be easy. Well, kikimoras were never exactly easy to begin with, but it was handleable. Not like the fucking whole kikimoras' nest he was now dealing with! And of course the bard had refused to stay at the inn! How many times would they have to fight over this? You're a witcher, you go to the fighting. You're a bard, you stay at the inn. Easy. Simple. Manageable. But no, of course, not only was this stupid creature determined to follow him on the path, it was also determined to follow him towards danger! Otherwise it wouldn't be funny, right? And now, on top of having to deal with the shittons of creatures that surrounded him he had to worry about his fucking bard getting fucking injured! Damn him, damn the bard, damn the kikimoras, damn the whole wide world for having allowed this situation to happen, and his feelings to develop towards the squishable human being that was now very much in danger of getting himself squishably pierced by many stabby kikimoras legs!

When he had finished slicing his preys in halves, he called after the poet. Only silence answered him. And then a rumble, that could very well had been his name amputated from his vowels. He rushed in the direction of the sound. And his heart stopped as he fell to his knees to gather the poor bloody thing in his arms.

"Jaskier! Jaskier! It's alright! You'll be alright!

- Grrll... Cn't... Brrth...

- Shhh, hush, don't try to talk, I have you! I have you, I'm not letting you go, you hear me?"

Tears were gathering in his eyes. There was so much blood, so much blood! No one could survive this! Still, the witcher clutched him.

"I'm not letting you go! You can't die! I forbid it, do you hear? You. Are not. Allowed. To die.

- Grrrlll... ... ..."

The poor body went limp in his arms. Geralt tightened his grasp around him, cursing and wailing.

The first thing Jaskier noticed was how everything didn't hurt anymore. Which was quite a pleasant surprise to tell the truth!

The second was the whiteness around him. Everything was just... so white! And yet everything was nothing in particular, because he couldn't distinguish the floor from the ceiling, and wasn't even sure there would be walls if he managed to walk far enough to reach them. Should he bother, though? In a way, he knew he had nothing better to do right now, nor would he ever, and maybe it would help prevent him from wallowing into his sorrow at the thought that it was it, it was over, he was dead, would never walk the Earth again, nor would he ever see Geralt, and that particular thought would be piercing his heart, shattering it into thousands of desolated pieces if he dwelled on it too much.

So, he got ready for a bit of exploration, when he spotted a dark silhouette walking toward him, getting bigger and bigger.

When he could decipher its features, he found himself astonished, but not so surprised. A thin figure wrapped in a black shroud, from which emerged a cloaked skull, and a bony hand holding a large scythe - who could you expect to meet on your way to the afterlife if not the grim reaper themselves?

The reaper stopped when they reached Jaskier, and remained quiet for a moment.

"Erm... This is embarrassing..." Did they say in lieu of a greeting.

The bard gave them a quizzical look.

"You see, technically, you're dying. And so, I should take you with me on your journey to the realm of the dead. But... you see... the Witcher says you're not allowed to die...

- And that is a hindrance because...?

- Well if he says you're not allowed to die, then you are not allowed to die.

- ... While I appreciate the beauty of a tautology, I'm afraid I still can't figure how the words of a Witcher can... actually... forbid me to die.

- ... That's Geralt of Rivia.

- ... Yes.

- And you're the bard Jaskier. The reaper explained patiently.

- I am indeed.

- You are Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia's bard.

- I'm not Geralt of Rivia's anything, but I feel this is kind of beside the point.

- You are Geralt of Rivia's bard. The reaper repeated firmly.

- Alright, whatever, Jaskier conceded with a hint of annoyance. I still don't see--

- Geralt of Rivia says you're not allowed to die. The reaper declared with the tone one would use with a child. 

- Yes, you indeed pointed this out already but--

- Then you are not allowed to die. The reaper concluded.

- ... I'm sorry, I know you think you are making sense, but you're not."

The reaper sighed deeply, pinching the bridge of their nose. They seemed highly frustrated.

"Look, I don't know how to spell it out for you. The witcher says you're not allowed to die, so you're not allowed to die. That's it. That's all there is to it. Pretty simple.

- But... You're Death...

- I am indeed.

- Aren't you the one who decides who lives and who dies?

- Well, I don't exactly decide, you see, I'm a mere collector of the souls.

- And you aren't going to collect mine?

- Nope.

- Because Geralt says I'm not allowed to die.

- Exaclty, the reaper answered with an enthusiastic nod.

- ... You, the incarnation of death itself, are going to let me get away from dying, because a Witcher forbids it?!

- Yes!" Another happy nod. "Now you get it!

- But... Why would you obey him?"

The reaper stared at him, taken aback. They took their time to answer, as if Jaskier should have very well figured it out by himself by now.

"Have you... seen the witcher?

- I have, yes, been traveling with him for- what, a decade, now?

- Well he's fucking terrifying!!

- ... You-- You're... scared of Geralt?

- DUH!!

- Oh... Ok... That's- that's unexpected is what it is, uh, well, then- How... How? What-- what happens... now?

- Well, now, you're going to go back to where you came from, and you're going to try never again to pull that stunt, because I very much would like not to deal with all of this again. I don't have much time for this kind of shenanigans, and I'd really not face the wrath of a witcher either, thank you very much." The reaper declared, a bit annoyed. And with that, they gave a snap of their fingerbones, Jaskier heard a distinct *POOF* as everything around here went whiter than it already was.

Geralt was sobbing quietly, now, holding the blood-covered bard tightly against his chest. He almost missed the groan, but not the rumble in the chest of the man he kept so lovingly in his arms.

"Ooooh fuck! That hurts!"

Geralt looked at him in disbelief, held his head above that of his bard, before squishing him in adoration and relief. He let go only to yell at him.

"You idiot! Don't you dare do this again!

- I'm... Pretty sure I'm not allowed too..." Jaskier said with a wince; his head was still giving him a tremendous pain. Geralt, though, seemed to ignore it. But maybe, only maybe, the smallest of a smug grin drew itself on his lips...

Yennefer stared at him as if the bard had sprouted a second head. 

"Wait, so, you're telling me you're immortal because... Because Geralt refuses to let you die??

- Not because he refuses. Because he forbids it.

- That's... That's the craziest thing I've ever heard.

- I know.

- That's impossible!

- I know.

- That defies logic, sorcery, every single magical and natural act since the beginning of time!!

- I know.

- And yet...

- I know."

The sorceress looked flabbergasted. Jaskier shrugged, dismissively.

"And... You don't age because...?