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Chapter Text

The wind whistled through trees like a whispered breath against the back of a neck, the sound gently unnerving to most occasionally enough to make them jump, but to some it could be soothing. It was gently soothing to Jaskier who had spent the best part of his life traipsing the world or at least wishing he could. He had spent the last decades happily fulfilling this dream wandering on sore feet following his witcher- A witcher he always corrected himself. Geralt wouldn't belong to him even if he begged and on more than a few drunken night he had thought to beg but he eventually let his senses rightfully doubt themselves before dropping to his knees onto grim dirt stained tavern floors. Geralt would never be his witcher something Jaskier had accepted long ago. He did however think of himself as his bard, now he wasn't and the wind whispering was the only friend in the forest.

He shivered at the thought, the only living thing for miles, there wasn't even a tweet from birds or the gently movement of soil from worm only uninterrupted silence. Jaskier grimly thought it was as if the forest hated him. The thought turned more grim when he realised that in a way it was true his own despair and loneliness leaking into the ground around him scaring off any life that would keep him company.

Jaskier sighed and began to weep clutching the lute to his chest the cold wood a painful reminder of what he had lost. The first drops of rain were light as a feather but soon the sky was dark grey and sheets of water were falling soaking him to the bone as his teeth chattered, it rained until he could not longer tell if the chattering of his jaw was due to sorrow or the biting cold that came with the rain. It still rained as he lay huddled against an old tree the elven lute a reminder that Geralt had protected him, a reminder that his muse was gone and that inspiration for life departed with it.

Jaskier woke miserable cheeks damp and eyes blurry with sleep. There was no fire to warm him or soft touch instead he warmed his wet clothes by shivering until the sun rose over head. He did not cry and it did not rain, the sun overhead marking the middle of the day as he left the clearing blue eyes desolate as he walked lute strung on his shoulder. Jaskier didn't know what to do, his hands trailed tree trunks the bark harsh against his palms the sting of pain as he threaded his fingers through nettles grounding him the present moment. He walked aimlessly until he hit a road and then crossed it before walking further into dense woods. He cried as the storm rolled in that night, then come sunlight carried on starving and thirsty. It took four days until he stopped at a stream ribs poking from dry skin, eyes blinking from dehydration. He had drunk his water skin dry three days ago and instead had taken to drinking from trees or the steady sheets of rain that fell.

"Isn't it funny how you appear when I need you?" He had collapsed on the bank his words clearly to the gentle river only looking to be knee depth and startlingly clear.

No one answered. The surround startlingly silent, almost to silent as he sat there denting himself the cool liquid that flowed past.

He sighed breath rushing from as he sat there seconds stretched to minutes before he finally lent forward knees sinking into mud and gulped the water from his palm greedily the water splashed across his face in some attempt at cleanliness. Jaskier leant back a little after drinking and just stared up at the clear sky as light clouds lazed across the blank blue canvas. Eventually after the minutes had clocked to hours he leant his lute against his side unstringing it from his back and instead leant his head in his hands mind racing as his heart broke further remembering the mountain pass and Geralt own words. He didn't cry, just sat numb not knowing what to do but feeling like something needed to change. He didn’t know how much time had passed but it was darker and his knees were deep into the dark mud next to the stream.

The bard eventually shook himself, if Geralt didn't want him then so be it, that would be that. He would mourn the loss but he could get on with his life, he didn't have a choice anymore. Jaskier got up, looked at the river a steely determination flashing in his eyes replacing the crazed desperation that made him continue to walk through the quiet forest. The look that had slowly over taken sorrow as he forced himself through the pain in his feet, the aching in his knees and burning of his dry throat to the simple goal of escape.

"I can do this myself," His voice is deafeningly loud in the quiet he hadn't moved his eyes from the blue grey river, the same blue of his eyes reflecting back at the dark water. "I'm going to-" He didn't know what he was going to do. "I'm going to do something." He concludes falling back in the dirt but the bone weariness was gone; he wasn't desperate instead he closed his eyes and listened willing himself to slow and be still. He didn't have to be lonely because Geralt left. He didn’t. He sat there till the sun went down, the trees had gotten louder the buzz of insects in summer a hum through the air in late afternoon, the call of birds and croak of frogs echoed by dusk. Jaskier curled up next to the river coated in mud, the lute leaving an imprint next to him as a small mammal darted to drink from the waters stopping the lick of its tongue when Jaskier looked at it. The tiny fluffy animal next to the river froze caught in his eyes then Jaskier reached out and caught the tiny fur ball, the voles eyes widened a little but soon snuggled into the warmth Jaskier extended hand offered. Jaskier cried that night as always but the gentle sounds of the forest accompanied his small hiccups as the vole pressed against the warmth of his neck as it rained.

He made it to a town a week later coated in dirt. His water skin shoved in a pocket the bag long forgotten and lute on his back. A small Robin fluttered near his head as he exited the tree line, it landed on the top of the lute near his shoulder and sat content to the gentle sway as Jaskier walked into town.

Jaskier words spun gold and his silver tongue danced, the ferocious tale of the deep wood was enough to garner sympathy for clothes and a small room as long as he sang of carnal delights. Jaskier was more than happy to these terms, he drank from his own water skin and sang until he couldn't carry on. The Robin fluttered around the room of the Inn as the bard settled into the straw bed, his clothes clean and a boring dark green that scratched his skin so unlike the bright finery he had would usually have insisted on. His shoes washed but still the old soft leather that Geralt purchased lay near the door. Jaskier didn't mind the night but was glad for the tweet of the bird next to his ear as he fell to sleep in a place he did not know. Jaskier didn't know where he was going but that was okay, he could mourn and move on. It rained that night as it had for the pervious fortnight the water streaming in rivulets down the roof and creating torrents in the streets.

Jaskier slept and carried on adding one final song to the collection of songs decicated to the witchers. The song cycle twenty years in the making ended with a tale of adventure and unending hope. Jaskier didn't feel hopeful as it ended, he felt like the story was a lie. In it Geralt leaves the confines of the bard to hunt and fall in love with a maiden along the way. He knew yennefer, if she ever heard it, she would not be fond of the song but neither was he. Jaskier supposed neither could change it now, he promised a change reputation to Geralt and this was the final chapter to that.

He carried on with the same brightness to the world that he always had, the same unending charisma and silver words. Only he still cried at night although the rains stopped flooding the land he cried still. Less though, some night Jaskier only let a few tears fall his fingers soft against the Robin that still twittered on his shoulder at every new location.

Winter drew in slowly, the wind began to chill Jaskier through his dark thin cheap clothing. The only item of value he had was the lute across his back, the small pack he held had a few spare coins and and a spare set of clothes this time in a rustic brown. Jaskier wander from town to town his mind held in place by the bird on his shoulder and the songs he sung, the heavy weight of grief at the loss of his witcher-a witcher on his shoulders.

"Bard, you want to sing tonight?" The barkeep snapped, he didn't know who he was. Jaskier marked himself with rich clothes a grin and the witcher nearly always at his side without it he was another bard trying to make his way in the world.

"I would love nothing more but I have an appointment with destiny dear fellow and I can not deny it." The barkeep rolled his eyes waving his hand an indication that Jaskier had brought about the end of conversation. Jaskier didn't bother showing off further instead slid into a booth at the edge of the bar eyes scanning the groups of people chattering over food or weak ale. He smiled at the sight of them and seemed to drink in their excitement.

"Hey, bard, are you going to play?" Someone calls obviously a little drunk as he looked a the bard through half lidded eyes. Jaskier smile remained in place but it wasn't real.

"I have other matters to attend to this fine evening but it would be terribly rude of me to not offer a single tune. I can sing one, what would you suggest?" He stands pulling his most precious possession from the floor where it rested, his heart steady and slow. "How about the new popular tune fortune of the mountain?" He didn't like the song personally, but he liked to sing it because maybe this time they would accept not all witchers are beasts.

"Nah that one sung by the witchers whore?" One of his friends snorts. Jaskier had heard worse, a lot worse,  in fact he imagine if he was the witcher whore he would be whole lot more happy currently. He had heard his- the witcher with enough whores to know he left them throughly satisfied.

"Another then?" Jaskier says his smile wider and faker.

"Nothing bout any of those monsters." Jaskier eyes sharpened the blue almost brightening as he looked at the man blood thruming through his ears. Dully he heard the chrip of his new friend, the Robin, on his shoulder as if it was trying to ground him in the moment and remind him. "Fucking bastard mutants have no place with lovey dovey tunes." Jaskier eyes narrowed and if the men hadn't been laughing at his awful joke they would have noticed the suddenly loud insistent twitter of a bird. Would have noticed the sudden tension across Jaskier back. They didn't though and so the first went down with a choked off ‘fuck’ as his broken nose hit the floor as he collapsed.

"Lovey dovey, there about monsters you bastard." Jaskier quick tongue that could twist words into beautiful stories was now a harsh snap. A man came at him but was rendered breathless by a solid kick to his chest and then rendered useless as the bard eyes bright snapped his arm. The crack of bone echoed as the rest of his friends joined the fray.

Jaskier was splattered with blood, his skin unmarked as he led the tavern, everyone who didn't fight had left or retreated to the bar. Those that fought had broken arms, bruised knuckles, bloody noses, dislocated Jaws and injured windpipe. Jaskier left in high spirits the cool air of winter warming against his flushed skin, the light in his eyes feral as he stood in the street lute strung on his back.

"Wasn't that beautiful?" He said cheerily to the bird that wasn't sat on his shoulder but fluttering above his head.

It twittered at him as if saying that it wasn't in fact beautiful but an absolute disaster.

Jaskier laughed. "They'll think twice about lovey dovey songs now." Although the words were cheery and matched his smile the darkness behind them was obvious his own feelings making the bird swoop lower before twittering at the bard. It hovered there flapping yellow eyes paling to the luminous blue of the bards.

"Come on red, there are other places to go." So they moved on through the town and then the forest, he came across a stream by nightfall and slept next to it. Four days later and having passed through the mountain pass north of Toussiants they came across another small town this one in the middle of no where, a rural community who didn't expect a traveller. Jaskier was angry from the night before, he had kicked every stone on the road so it was no surprise to himself that he lost the plot at the sight before him. It was, in fact, quite a surprise to everyone else.

At the centre of a make shift square that was more half a field that an actual square stood roped to a post a young women. Her back was lashed raw blood seeping into the thin white fabric that offered no protection from the harsh crack of the whip.

"What do you think your doing?" The bard said voice like a clap of the thunder as the clouded sky over head stopped the worst of the suns rays.

"This is our justice bard and you do well to not interrupt." A thinly veiled threat did little to stop the bard, Geralt used to say anything short of a sword wouldn't stop him. Apparently he had been entirely wrong as words could stop him they just had to be uttered by Geralt.

"Justice is hanging a murderer, justice is locking a thief in a jail cell, what pray tell has this women done?" Jaskier snapped back his fear at the threat non-existent striding to the group of three near the women weeping body as the cloud over head rolled together thickening.

"Our justice is lashing when a women takes a man to bed before hand tieing." He finally answered but Jaskier eyes glinted the smile he wore a dangerous imitation of something dark. His laugh caught in his throat in a swift huff before bubbling out, it was sick and twisted thing an unsettling edge of animal hunger roughing the once bubbly ound.

"What would you do to me then, major?" It was a sneer his lips curling. "I have fucked my way across the continent, buried my cock amongst virgins and the unmarried alike, I have let myself by taken by married men and those who didn’t even know my name. What would you do to me?" The bards head lower just a little daring the major or the two men at his side to answer his question. Blue eyes light the clear spring water daring them and they hesitated eyes flickering reproachfully even though he was just a bard after all. "Well?"

"You would be lashed raw at a public station, until we saw the bone of your ribs, you would then be castrated. Depending on the number of your sins you would be hung the next day after repenting your desires."

"Hum," Jaskier said head tilted like an animal interested in prey the bird on his shoulder took off as water began to fall the thunder overhead rumbling as it began to pour with rain and the grey cloud crashed with the beginning of lightening. "And what do you think I will do to you?" All of them looked scared now, the bard was thin but it didn't ease the fear that spread through them. Something changed in the air it felt warm and thick but not like a beautiful summer day but instead it was a warning pressing against their skin. The bard was lithe but it didn't stop the terror the animal tilt of his head and the vicious grin spoke of a promise they wouldn't enjoy.

Jaskier left and swept into the forest embracing the silence that came with it, there were no screams of agony and death. The painful whimper of the women who was saved as she crumbled to the ground.

*****

Jaskier was at the edge of Cleves, he didn't want to stay in the city it was loud and he received strange looks with only his lute and Robin on his shoulders. The sky was stormy and threatened rain as Jaskier wandered the streets humming at the birds on his shoulders occasionally. He stopped in the market not to let the vividness of life wash over him as the market bustled but because of a flash of shining white at the edge of his vision.

"Jaskier!" Jaskier eyes narrowed dangerously at the man who hesitated a split second and then stopped instantly thinking better of his approach. "Jaskier," It was more of a question this time.

"Fuck off Geralt." He had spent months crying, months trying to forget and now he was at peace when he walked with the forest, the bird comforting on his shoulders and sang where he could and charmed women and men in tavern he wouldn't stay in. Geralt doesn't move. "Fine, I can take my own advice occasionally." And so Jaskier who wanted to smile at the witcher who wanted to offer kind words and let the witcher become his witcher again spun on his heel and walked away. Water began to drizzle from the sky from the dark clouds that had made well on their promise of rain.

He got all of eight steps before the Robin twittered and held him to holt. The Robin had the good grace to at least seem embarassed at the interruption to Jaskier brilliantly dramatic saunter.

"What's the issue now red?" The Robin flutter and took off before floating down to land on the shoulder of man near the wall, dark hair greying with age. The bird barely landed before twittering and leaping into the air again Geralt watching the exchange transfixed.

The bird flutter landing on the bard outstretched finger head tilted as if to say something but it only let out a tiny squark. Tiny drops of rain settled on its feathers before rolling off and turned cool on Jaskiers scarred fingers.

"Oh really now?" Like a wolf watching Prey his muscles shifted and his head lowered a little even as his blue eyes glowered into the man pining him in place. "I recognise you, and your little posse." The man shivers because he too had recognised the bard. The man rarely remember the people he met on the road but he knew Jaskier last time they had met only a year past and the bard was lying on the floor soaked through and pathetic.

"Jaskier wasn't it?" Geralt tensed slinking into shadows as he sensed the mood for a fight. The man seemed scared of Jaskier and Geralt wondered why the bard looked a little dangerous but that was probably from practising a roughly threatening face in a mirror. Geralt had however considered many a time that although he seemed a little dangerous to a witcher the bard’s wrath tended to end in the other party tired, occasionally bloody and always defeated.

"Hum, yes," He says and took a step closer eyes focused but not quiet on the man. Jaskier thoughts flared racing ahead he knew somewhere deep inside the Geralt was still watching but this man had done wrong. He had killed two men, kidnapped a women or so he'd told Jaskier as he robbed him of the coin and anything of value at the base of the dragon mountains. "Don't you wish you could have just killed me, wouldn't it have been easier?" He dared and Geralt stayed warily in the shadows but the confusion made the sceme hard to understand.

"If could have fought us then you would have bard, now unless your looking for another beating.." He smirks a horrid smirk and Geralt growled low in his chest as the rain fell just a little bit harder. Jaskier could have hurt them, but he wasn't thinking straight and had be so lost in in his own head he practical threw the money at them wished them well. Only hoping they would leave so he could cry without an audience. Seeing them again must be fate, he smiled at the thought, fate was obviously feeling nice today. Unusual because Jaskier hadn’t always been a fan of hers.

"Oh don't worry I am." His voice gentle music to their ears but he doesn't move instead watched as life drained from their eyes and the man turned on his friends. He began to attack. Strangers moved to separate them, yank them apart, to stop the senseless violeonce but to know avil. Blood spilled into the streets. One mans head rocked into the stone street blood bursting from his mouth as teeth clashed with soft flesh. The now-heavy rain washed the blood away in streams between the crack in the cobbles. Jaskier laughed almost breathless until Geralt hand came down on his shoulder fingers curling into the chorded muscle.

"Jaskier what ever your doing stop it." Jaskier darkened instantly the light happiness and brightness vanished as one arm shot out, easily pushing the witcher off.

"You had your chance witcher." He turned back to the fight and the bird twittered on his shoulder as if too was annoyed. Swiftly the bard knelt as he pushed one of the men down, hand pining him as the other shot out with force, bone crunched against stone. A women fainted at the sight.

The robin twittered and its claws raked Jaskier fingers.

"Fine." Jaskier snapped and walked away the man's fist slowly pulled back punches before he stopped repeatedly beating his brother in arms face, dawning realisation widening his eyes. His hands went to his own face as he began to register the blistering pain shooting through him, he collapsed limbs limp. Geralt didn't help them and instead twisted to followed Jaskier.

"Jaskier! What's going on?" The witcher snapped, Jaskier decided in that instance he no longer wanted the witcher there. He had carefully re-constructed himself and he had grieved, he didn't need Geralt back now.

"Good day Geralt," He doesn't turn around leaving the witcher stricken standing in the middle of the street the groans of six men dying or injured behind him. Geralt thought maybe Jaskier had brought a curse to hurt them if they really had beaten him up. He would have ripped their throats out if he knew that Jaskier had suffered at their hands but he didn't want Jaskier to do it. Jaskier who was always to full of life and swayed in the gentelest of breezes wasn’t the one who needed to apply violence for revenge. Geralt just thought it wasn’t very Jaskier of him.

"Fuck." He tried to follow but couldn't will himself to follow. Instead he went back to roach, roach butted against his hand at the smell of Jaskier and looked around as if he would appear. She huffed when the bard didn't which cheered Geralt a little.
He was in the Inn a later drinking, usually he had one ale and went to bed but he stayed for two listening avidly to the conversation across the room. It was told by a women with scarlet hair all done up as she leant at a bench surrounded by wide-eyed attentive listeners eagar for the story falling from painted lips.

"The bard just stood there and laughed as Nickoli went for Taras throat, a right scene as well by the end. Healer doesn't think neither of them will make it and I saw Peter if he walks again I'd be surprised his knees were kicked proper through." They all watched bated breath so transfixed they weren't aware of the witcher approaching silently. “Jenny told me it a because they couldn't split the money the right way, the bard was just reveling in it though."

"The bard you speak of who is it?" He was worried they would know, Jaskier had spent the best part of his life helping Geralts own reputation he had no desire to see his once best friends ruined. Even if his friend seemed to have taken a dip in his standard decorum.

"Poor idiot named Dandelion I think." Geralt nodded and left them to the tall tales, his heart stuttering at the new name. Dandelion was a pretty name but Geralt couldn't help but dislike it, the wrongness settled in his gut as he trudged up to the cheap beds of the Inn. He didn't want to make the comparison but he knew Jaskier had changed if it wasn't in his expression it was in the fact he'd changed his name from a little yellow buttercup that was delicate and bright to a dandelion, an in-delicate and Hardy flower. He had liked buttercup much more but he doubted he'd ever get to tell Jaskier that.

*****

Jaskier was angry at Geralt for being in the same town as him so he lay near a tree no stream in sight and cried until he curled around the lute and fell asleep. He looked at the lute in the morning still overcast and dark, the wood hummed to him almost sentient in Jaskier mind. With teary eyes he placed the lute against the tree and watched as the tree seemed to furl around it almost protectively. The lute sat like a reminder inlaid in wood and Danelion stared at for a long moment torn between ripping it form the tree and cradling it or smashing it.

"Keep it safe," His whisper broken, he had spend months grieving Geralt and carefully letting himself feel the world again as he finished off his promise to Geralt all those dacades ago. Dandelion suppose he had finished his song now so what was the real use of a lute if it only served as a painful reminder of Geralt, a reminder he couldn't bare after seeing Geralt look at him like that confused and hurt. The Robin on his shoulder twittered the warmth of life to his neck a gentle pulse, a reminder he was here in the woods. "Please," He begged as if the tree would hear him before turning and walking away silent tears on his cheeks, he made it a mile before his chest heaving stuttered the air catching in his throat. Dandelion had to sit down and pant until he caught his breath tears wetting the material on his chest.

The Robin twittered as if it to wanted him to stop and stand again. The bird fluttered around again settled on his knee beady eyes filled with intelligence mimicked the once famous bard head tilt.

"You know," Danelion thumb stroked the bird just above the joint of the wings. "I suppose I could forget about Geralt just not think of him anymore," The bird twittered again this time a short squark. "I don't think I want to forget yet, maybe I'll be my own destruction," A wry twist of his lips before now in darkness he begins to walk slowly through the forest.

Chapter Text

Geralt didn't like the way Jaskier eyes glazed over as he looked at him, he didn't like the way Jaskier laugh was tattered and unhinged as those beautiful big blue eyes fixed on Geralt over his shoulder, below him a man shuddering and bleeding twitching to get away. Geralt couldn't stop seeing the image of Jaskier as he asked if he was alright the warmth under his hand as he grabbed his shoulder, the sharp way he knocked his hand off much easier than should have been possible. Geralt hadn't gripped him hard of course because that would hurt the human but still his light touch should have been harder to knock away. Geralt couldn't remember though. Could not even recall if he had even applied pressure to his figure tips, maybe he had been shocked and hadn't gripped him at all. The fact he didn't know wore on his mind almost as much as the image of Jaskier hand around the man arm as he dove the heel of his palm down and it snapped under his strength. Geralt knew he had to be strong, the bard had followed him for years but he’d never shown that he had the ability to snap bones. Then again Geralt wasn’t sure he hadn’t shown this strength before, one time he recalls the bard batting away a heavy bar stool that had been chucked towards their heads by the rather large town blacksmith.

Geralt couldn't stop thinking about it as winter drew closer and still when he closed his eyes saw the bard grinning not at all like Jaskier. He hadn't ran into him the rest of the unreasonably stormy season despite listening for rumours of a bard called Dandelion that had apparently disappear much like Jaskier. The worst thing was wondering if Geralt had missed it, has Jaskier always had that feral glint in his eye.

Vesemirs hugged him in greeting and patiently waited for him to speak what he wanted knowing he had something to say. Geralt held back for three nights before finding him in his make-shift office below the library.

"How easy is it for a human to snap a man's arm with one hand?"

"Depends, a trained solider could easily do it." His amber cat eyes narrowed and he looked over Geralt expression studying him like always. "What happened, cub?" Geralt sat and glared at the nickname but didn't say anything. The silence stretched on.

"I ran into Jaskier," Understanding flashed through the older witchers cat-like eyes. "He broke someone's arm,"

"Did you have a conversation with him?" He asks sounding like he already knew the answer by the tired sigh he heaved at the end.

"No."

"Then Jaskier may have his reasons, if he doesn't want to talk Geralt you may have to accept that. Humans years are precious and he may have already accepted what happened between you," It was a warning to leave him be and Geralt knew that but the thought of Jaskier dying thinking those words pained Geralt acutely. "He's older Geralt, remember even if you talked the boy could not join you on the path he must be near fifty," Geralt frowned casting his mind back to Jaskier clear blue eyes burning like starbursts, fist strong and sure with the strength of someone who knew exactly what that punch would do. Geralt rarely thought on the age of his long time companion anymore as although he seemed to age it had never become an issue, he could still as of a year ago walk miles and miles everyday.

"He's forty," Geralt says instead.

"Is that your only question?" His eyebrows raise.

"Yes," Geralt had lost more questions but he knew Vesemirs wouldn't help he'd offer the usual advice which is you know what to do.

"Great, you can help me," The older witcher turns a sheet over the map a detailed image of the continent on fingers pointing along the Angra. "Have you passed through Angurtour?" He asks and Geralt shales his head at the area south of lyria but to far east to be populated where only a few towns and villages were places along the Angra and Solveiga.

"No, There nothing much out there so I don't go often," That's what he had been taught by Vesemirs and Vesemirs nods like he expected the answer.

"It's a down a weeks ride south of Glevitzinden," The older witcher pulls another parchment out. "This was delivered here from someone hoping for a witcher," He offers it and Geralt looks it over the cursive pretty and ornate even if the words were horrifying.

To whom that receive this letter, be you well. We have hire for a witcher but few rarely pass these lands, the land is harsh and we can protect ourselves and our gods protect us from death. Angurtour is a village at the base of the Cervantesa pass, it falls under the Eastern Realms protection and land and this is why we write to you. Angurtour was attacked by a creature, of its 164 resident all but 92 residents were killed; it spared families at the edges of town and children as well and some mothers and father who were in addentance of the towns central proceedings. We will pay any sum of coin for the creatures head given to the king in Brama Solveiga. If this message. Find you we await your arrival.

"Is this it?" Geralt frowns at the useless letter which held no details.

"There was a written eye witness report," He hands over the letter on thin parchment the writing in it shaky and unsure.

I am a resident of Angurtour and was present at the town proceedings when the creature came. It wore human skin and look harmless but almost instantly men began fighting their brothers. I was helped to stand by the creature and it offered me respite from the war that raged and I accepted. I awoke in middle of Angurtour, a storm the likes I have never seen raged but everyone who had been present was dead or injured heavily.

"It sounds like a curse," Geralt looks over the words again. "Or a human."

"That's what I thought," Vesemir agrees. "I could think of no monster that matches such a description and only a mage or a curse could kill so effectively."

"Would you like me to go there in spring?"

"Oh no need, I just wanted to make sure I wasn't missing anything." That was the end of that Geralt stood but hesitates hand on the back of the chair.

"It might not be a human," Geralt utters going back to the table. "The storm is magical, there are never storm behind the mountains not like that anyway." Vesemir nods and looks at the map again.

"I don't know of a mage who would do this, not now when the war with Nilfgaard so close," Vesemir looks up expecting input but Geralt eyes were caught on the blue marbled rock on Vesemirs desk and looked completely lost, Vesemir had only ever had the barest description of Jaskier but Geralt expression so pained and open reminded Vesemir of the first winter twenty years ago when he had told his brother after a few drinks that a blue eyes bard had hired him but had began following him on the path. Geralt stared at the small stone inlaid in the wire held inside the centre of a tree, the blue was of the sky on a clear day a few dark streaks like the sea and all of it looked identical to Jaskier's eyes.

Geralt shook his head a little returning to reality. "I don't know," Geralt sighs and Vesemir let's him brood stood in front of the desk for a minute.

"You can have it Geralt,"

"What?" Geralt says snapping back eyes focusing on Vesemir who now sat back in the chair a small smile on his face. The old witcher waves his hand.

"You can keep it, but you return it by spring," He motions the little tree that he had acquired before the keep was attacked, while he still trained new boys into being witchers. It had been given to him by Barmin and sat on the desk every since he barely remembered the story from it.

"No," Geralt shook his head and left, he couldn't watch the little tree with Jaskier eyes inside anymore if he took it back to his room by the time spring came he would steal it away and keep it. He was ashamed to admit he had never quite noticed before just different the shades of Jaskier eyes were until the exact colours were captured in a stone. Geralt didn't look at the blue stone again for the rest of winter, Eskel said he needed to stop brooding but it didn't help. He was constantly startled from mediation by the image of Jaskier, now dandelion, grinning as he broke bones.

*****

Jaskier was quite happy to not be addressed by names, not even dandelion although it someone did ask he usually picked a name of a flower. He had always liked flower they were of so bright and Hardy flowering in unlikely places reaching for the sun with Petal of any colour, he remembered seeing a little purple and white thing growing through cracks of rocks petals like a needle warning as it reached Fort he sun that shone on the cliffs for only a few hours. Jaskier smiled at the memory, that flower could survive anything so could he. Jaskier wander forest to forest Town to town, he had taken up carving for money and would sell the beautifully detailed items in town for a bed or wares if need be. He had a bow for food and a water skin, the leather bag carried one extra pair of clothing and a luscious pelt of fur he had bargained a women for over winter.

He was in Novigrad, he tended to stay away from towns and hadn't set foot near a city in since Geralt was by his side but the raven that had swooped and circled his makeshift bed against a tree outside Roggveen had been insistant and so he followed it along the coast until Novigrad was in sight then the bird landed once on her forearm black beady eyes on the city before sqarking as if to say your welcome. The Robin hadn't been enamoured by the presence of the big black bird and happily twittered as it left back to the safety away from people.

"Well then red," The man sighs looking to the city sprawled between the sea and the river. "I suppose something demands our attention." And he headed into the city the soft squark of the raven taken over by people and hooves, a market street bustling with people which banged against Jaskier made his heart hammer inside his chest.

The Robin sqarked and wormed itself against his neck keeping safe from people moving around shoulder to shoulder no care for who they hit. Jaskier breath came in a gasp when someone knocked him off kilter only staying up by grabbing another.

"Ugh," He hissed out and squared his shoulder finding a lane narrow but empty leading away from the street. "You know red I used to love the bustle of people, the voices, even the ill thought insults," Confiding the bird eased Jaskier and he carried on blue eyes piercing and bright wathchfully scanning people as he rejoined the bustling roads from the small lane aimlessly picking and choosing. He ended up in a quiet alley between houses near the centre of the city, the clothing lines between houses air drying off-white linen that absorbed the smell of the busy city.

"Aren't you a pretty little thing," It wasn't a question low and filthy, the words rattling from the man's chest eagerly eyeing Jaskier. "Took a wrong turn?" His leer pronounced and twisting his face, he wasn't alone joined by another two men at either shoulder.

"No wrong turns when you don't know where your going," Jaskier said brightly leaning against the rough side of the building blue eyes flickering to the two men at the other end of the small cut through.

"Yes, maybe your right," He says again close enough to smell, his eyes trail over the shoes he was wearing scuffed and dirty and his skin clean and smooth more like he was turning thirty than forty.

"Maybe destiny wants me to have you," He kicks his lip and the man next to him snickers undressing the man with one look lingering on his trousers and shoulders eyes darkening as he does so.

"I want to have him," He says and his friends nod agreeing.

"Destiny might want it but she doesn't get shit anymore," The air was warm again thick like the moment just before lightening strikes, the men exchange looks. "Maybe I'll have you though," And the bard who long left his lute behind grins all teeth and no joy.

"Shit," One of the man says realising suddenly this had maybe been a mistake he could feel his feet willing him to run heart rising just looking at the man who previously looked like easy prey. He wonder idly if Geralt had ever noticed the pure fear he instilled in those that he tended to fighter over the witcher honour with, the racing heart rate.

"Too late for second thoughts," Dandelion snaps voice dark and he quickly leans off the wall and the man who was closest, who had spoken first and was already close to having a heart, met his eyes. The blue was almost brighter than before, almost glowing, then his head slammed into the wall with a sickening ceack that said he would never get up. Four of them looked ready to bolt and one even managed a single step towards the road. "Oh don't leave I thought you wanted to take me against this wall, isn't that right?" Words a soft melody that curled in the air but not hiding the darkness in his tone. They all were frozen like rabbit caught in the unforgiving claws of a trap staring wide eyed until finally one nodded squeaking out a yes.

"Your brothers got you into this mess, it's their fault your going to die." Jaskier voice lightened picking up a jovial tune as if this was normal, eyes bright blue and holding the one who squeaked in place. "They wouldn't die for you, are you going to die for them?" Dandelion watched as something cold flashing through his eyes as the mans fists clenched with uncontrollable anger contorting his features, Danelion let of a chuckle that grated like Iron against granite.

He moved and jumped onto the person next to him and suddenly the four of them were fighting amongst themselves and Danelions blue eyes drank in the sight. Brothers in arms and one in blood heaving at each other like life could only be lived when the other lay broken at his feet blood leaking onto the dark floor of the alleyway. He only blinked when one of them turned on him and landed a hard punch to his face.

Jaskier hit him back air leaving the body as he landed a hard hit to his ribs. The man gasped trying to breath. He went to hit Dandelion again but was thrown back as Dandelion kicked him hard enough to break ribs sending him to the ground and he distracted by the melee of his brothers in arms fighting.

"Come on red, what are we really here for, hum?" He says quietly and red twitters eagerly drowning out the sounds of flesh striking flesh and harsh pained breathing. Jaskier walks away his boot smashing into the jaw of a dark haired man whose head was already gushing blood, his hands tight on his friend throat until Jaskier boot sent his head back. He fell back sprawling across the floor. Jaskier emerged onto the street his meek look and dishevelled hair easy to glance over as he began to wandered again. The bird twittered all at once and flew away at a large intersection and Jaskier eyes still a little too bright followed the bird to spot on a roof, a raven perched on a large house wedged in a few house down. His brown hair flopped across his eyes as his head tilts considering the two birds watching his back, then the robin moved playfully pecking on the ravens talons on slate roofing, Jaskier didn't think the slate was particularly pretty but knew instantly that this was the right house.

He stopped momentarily watching a chestnut gelding being led through the streets but it was not Roach, Jaskier smiled a little sadly at the horse as it was yanked to a trot past a cart ahead. He didn't think cities were a good idea, not now, but he took small comfort in the fact that he least wouldn't run into Geralt here, the witcher had never been fond of Novigrad. Jaskier didn't mind it, it was close to the sea and the sea was beautiful, the raw power churning in its depths and the way in which it lapped the shore so gently or with licks of anger that could kill a whole city. Jaskier liked a sea just like he liked the land, he didn't think of it though because all that came to mind was Geralt overlooking the mountains asking if he would come with him. He supposed if Geralt had come he would have showed him what the sea could do, he pushed the thought away pointless now. Geralt wasn’t who he was here for and so had no place in his mind for now.

"Who's house is that?" He says charmingly, for a second the women dressed in finery looked irritated to be interrupted from her pointless meandering but like always couldn't resist the soft lilt to his voice or the light in his eyes. "Why madam I am so sorry to interrupt your walk but I simply must know,"

"It belongs to Sir Kenred an advisor to the king." Jaskier blue eyes smiles at her just as much as his mouth does as he bows low hand twirling extravagantly as if she wasn’t a middle class wife but the queen.

"Have a wonderful day madam," Jaskier bids and she nods merging with the passing merchants. He darts to the house finding it was not guarded but that he could not just walk in through a conveniently unlocked door. His whistle like the best of music and the little red Robin lands hastily on his head, the trill of the bird joining him in accompaniment the raven already swooping off. "Sir Kenred," He humms to himself the name lost amongst the busy streets filled with chatter, hooves and merchants all and begins to wait. It was almost night fall the street had emptied somewhat when a man came back flanked by two well armed soldiers, they glared and looked ready to stab the man who named himself after flowers without further instruction.

"Move along," He says sounding every bit the noble Knight tired with a peasent.

"Let me in, I have business to discuss and trust me you don't want to do this on the streets," He inclined his head, looking over Dandelion. Jaskier had somewhat lost sight of the grander things in life and instead wore a dirty dark jacket and suade trousers of the same colouring, nothing suggested him to be untoward but the smear of blood on his boots and a few flecks on his collar. Kenred eventually nodded as one of his dressed up soliders set about unbolting the doors and let him in. The room was magnificent walls painted in purple and high walls filled with art or painfully expensive décor. He dismissed the guards. Sir Kenred bolted the door, checked it and led Dandelion to an office, his eyes seemed almost entirely blue as he looked at the Knight maybe a round fifty with a few grey streak in his hair.

"So what is your business?" He indicates a chair and dandelion takes it, the Knight eases slightly when he sits down now able to loom over the man, stood over him he was easily the one in charge.

Dandelion grins. "You've done something bad, go on tell me the absolute carnage you caused?" His eyes unnaturally alight as the Knight shifted infront of him, the room warming as body temperature rose and leaked into the surrounding air.

"Which part?" A grin worming onto his face at the blatant interest in his exploits almost hypnotised by Dandelion visage.

"What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

"My daughter was so pretty," He says and shifts again oblivious to the rumbling outside where the river met the see began to churn and spit up froth. "Her mother got old, but my daughter looked like her. So like her," He admits a sated smile on his face. His dark eyes flicker away from dandelions as thunder clapped like a decision from the gods over Novigrad. Instantly something rose up in Kinred overtaking the hypnotised proud state he was in the blue eyed spell broken. Fear wracked him, causing him to physically shiver as it overpowered everything. His heart rocked until until he was swaeting rooted in terror.

"No, go on," Dandelion voice cold as ice his smile was gone. "Tell me," His lips peeling from teeth in an animalistic snarl. Kenred managed half a step back, the urge to run growing and spreading until his limbs were vibrating trying desperately to get away. The river began to crash into the edge of the city with renewed vigor, waves splashing the docks as a storm found away overhead.

"My daughter was so pretty,” He tried to fight the words fists clenching until his joints squeaked and the skin turns a bright ghostly white. “But her eyes were wrong," He sped up the words drawn from him in fear tumbling from his mouth without permission. His back hit the wall. The air was hummed with energy. "I ripped them out of her mother and put them in her head!" His lip bleed as the words came from his mouth unhindered by the way he savagely bit his bottom lip keeping the words hidden from the world he had too much fear to sob and could only stare as dandelion stood up from the chair he had been forced into. It was clear he wasn’t in charge anymore.

"I bet there was so much blood," His voice rough scraping from his throat. The bird on his shoulder didn't pull him back instead fluttered away as if it too could feel the thick air pressing in the room. "What did you do with your daughter?"

"Tied her up," He gasps. His hands jerked up pressing into his eyes sockets seemingly helpless to stop his fingers clawing into his own head, nails scraping thin skin. The skin turned white from pressure and then a single drop of blood welled almost peacefully to the surface. "She was so pretty," He wailed voice choked off, and blood tumbled from his head as the single drop became a stream spilling out of shallow cuts and down on to his chest soaking rich clothing to nothing more than stains. "So pretty," The nails raked. Stream turned to waterfalls. Blood flowed more freely as the self-inflicted wounds deepened.

"Not anymore the land will take what it's owed,” His voice wasn’t rough anymore, instead it was soft as he watched. “She'll only be a skeleton now. You killed her didn't you?" He says but the man who didn't look much like Jaskier anymore knew the answer even as it tumbled from bloody lips.

"I threw her out to the sea!"

Jaskier snarls. His hands presses against the knights own. Pressing. Forcing them deeper into his own head until something squelched. Dull eyes rolled from his head. The spheres dead and lifeless amongst the bright red fresh blood were nightmare-ish. "Your life is not justified," He says savagely almost entirely a growl from deep in his chest. He ripped harder into the man. Jaskiers hands pressed harder, bone against calloused finger tips. Dark blood coated Jaskier hands and wrists Kenred own outfit soaked through his own skin stained with what should be inside. Dandelions fingers curled. Something cracked. Kenred's face split and jaw and the lower half of his face hanging, he was instantly dead. "The land is owed you,"

Jaskier left in the raging thunderstorm walking back through the throngs of people that hurried to get out of the warm rain. Blood that coated his nimble fingers once used to play the lute and wrists slowly washed off into the dirt on the street. The bird silent was under his jacket.

*****

Geralt was in Hagge, it was cooling to winter again and despite numerous questions of the bards location he wasn't found, no one knew of Jaskier or even of Dandelion. In most towns there seemed to be a rumour that Jaskier had lost his life to wolves on the path although Geralt doubted that. It was entirely possible he supposed but for all his failings Jaskier wasn’t stupid and something about him dying to wolves didn’t settle right, the image of him bloody and laughing came to mind. Not wolves he would bet. He had eventually asked a witch to find him, given the mage a single page of Jaskier journal with a heavy heart so she could find scry his location but the mage had shrugged, taken his money and said he wasn't here. Apparently Jaskier wasn't anywhere according to all three separate mages and all of them said the same--he wasn't dead just hidden. Geralt stopped after that, maybe the bard had asked a mage to hide from him, his heart sunk with the thought.

Hagge was cold dreary and soaked in rain, as winter approached slowly, invading from the north until the cold settled deep into Geralt’s bones. It was time to go home. Hagge may have been sensing the incoming bitter winter but the tavern was also loud and joyous people heartily enjoying the last warmth in the air.

"No I'm telling yous that's what he said!" Someone shouted indignantly as he entered the tavern. "He said they all were just standing there in a line and jumping into the damn river."

"Thats ridiculous, no one's that stupid!" One of them answer rolling his eyes but the man at his side shook his head slowly to drunk for speed.

"Nah no point mourning the bastards, they used to throw people in the Pontar instead of giving them there day in court." His voice slurred but Geralt hid a smile satisfied in a dark way that someone made them suffer the same fate they wrought on people far more poor than themselves.

"Gave ‘em what they deserved then, humm?" His friend says nodding but the drunk one was frowning.

"Kinda like that other thing in Rinde, huh?" He murmurs. "Tradesman told me that the men known on the road outside of Rinde all fucked themselves death,"

"What a way go though, eh?" Another says with a laugh but the drunkest one was frowning again. Absently Geralt noted it was a story he would recant to Jaskier as he would surely love a story of karma before remembering how they last parted ways.

"Gave ‘em what they deserved," His murmur so low Geralt barely caught it. "There was the major of Vartgen as well, didn't someone say that he chopped his own arm off in the square?" He says but noone but Geralt was listening to his drunken nattering now. Geralt frowned and thought about it, he had heard alot of weird stories in his years but recently along the pontar he had heard rumours and cautionary tales of people in power getting what they deserved accompanied with at least a little pain or death. He wasn't surprised that someone had given into to revenge but it wasn't exactly peaceful revenge. In Wyzima amongst the filthy rich and arrogant denials of harm he heard a muttered story much darker but it was similarly about deserved revenge. Eyes ripped out they said, half bones by the time he was found on his roof the raven pecked most of the skin off. Geralt shivered at the thought of the person who did that although he suspected something magical.

"Yes, but he chopped of the arms of every suitor his daughter ever took," The words light and musical not matching the horror they meant someone else responded leaning over with a grin. Geralt stopped breathing at the sight of Jaskier, he had Jaskier’s face but other than that looked so unlike himself. "Doesn't that sound fair?"

"Nothing’s fair," Someone huffed nose scrunched up finally listening again, Jaskier was sat at the table with them drinking. Geralt remember to breath only when Jaskier moved head swivelling from one patron to the next, the warm air stinging his lungs as he stared. His eyes even from this distance were so varied and bright, Geralt was sure now that rock in Vesmirs office must have been created using Jaskier image they were so similar. It was strange how he had known the man for years yet never had he realized with startling clarity quite how amazing his eyes were.

"Somethings are fair," For a second Geralt amulet on his chest flares with heat and startled he looks around worried. "Destiny isn't but something are." He looks back to Jaskier who was smiling and sipping from a tavern mug perfectly content, shoulder open and relaxed as blue eyes glittered.

"Miserable bastard aren't ye?"

"Only when you talk about chopping people's arm off!" Jaskier defends loudly. He looked every bit the silver tongued bard like he always was but Geralt knew him well. Something was different, wrong even. His eyes were bright not how he used to get when a flower took his fancy or he came back from a night in a bed but something different. His smile seemed off too although Geralt couldn't place why but maybe he had never seen that left incisor before. "Although all other topics are free rein good sirs!" He sounded like Jaskier, almost, Geralt suddenly felt like someone had hit him very hard in the head or he was looking through a mirror or was in a particularly twisted dream dream. Jaskier laugh was light in the air ringing in his head like a memory. Everyone paid rapt attention and Geralt knew everyone was always interested in Jaskier but looking in from the outside he wondered if everyone had always looked so animated and alive in his presence.

"Come on then Bluebell you’re a traveller what great stories have you got?" He asks and they all look over interested, Geralt did as well yanking himself from the feeling and wondering what Jaskier was going to say. Blue eyes met his and Jaskier face twisted. Expression flitting like pages in a book before he looked away like he hadn't even registered Geralt. Geralt knew better. The pain and something worse was Jaskier, the emotions so raw and human where something so very him. Jaskier smiled at the men who were interested, the bar maid even slowing to hear Jaskier tale as he grinned wickedly leaning forward forearms braced on the table.

"Do you know what the river loves?" It was such a strange start to a story even Geralt was surprised. "Rivers love to play, and then they get bigger and they love, if for just a moment, the sweet calm that comes after they flitted down mountainsides and were tossed down waterfall." No one interrupt to ask why the traveller, blue bell Geralt supposed, was speaking of river all far to enraptured by the tale. "Then they swell and the water beckons the animals and travellers, and the river loves itself as it carves the land into anything it pleases the water jostling and turning and its absolute carnage and the river, the river loves it." Geralt had no idea what it meant the story but he felt like he should, maybe it was a message or a puzzle. He couldn't take his eyes off Jaskier his voice savage and raw. "The river will take what it thinks owed and leave carnage and slaughter in its wake and it will give you water. The water to provide, and help your harvest before it rolls playfully through the field and you will all but forget that the river could lay waste to everything. That it drags carnage and chaos in its depth. The river loves that." He says and everyone was gaping at the tale nonsense that made sense to each of them is some way, they ate it up and the tale embedded deep into each mind. Geralt couldn't look away even as Jaskier, eyes as bright in real life then the ball on Vesemir’s desk, look straight at him. Through him. "The river loves that," Geralt wishes to follow but he doesn't. Jaskier leaves instead and he heads for Kaer Morhen the next morning.

*****

Jaskier looked at Geralt. The tale as old as the land not the humans on it hanging in the air, the gentle warning that a river will provide and take and you can't control when because slaughter and carnage are uncontrollable. Just like a river. Geralt eyes were gold and blown wide staring at the story and Dandelion notices the way his nose twitches and his eyes narrow just slightly thinking about it. Dandelion can see him think trying to figure out if the words were a riddle or meant for him, Dandelion left lingering outside for a moment as a storm brewed over head above the Pontar which he had slowly followed for the last season. The sky darkened with the promise of the worst storm of the year. Some part of him wanted to stay to explain even the robin on his shoulder was nudging its cold beak against the quick pulse in his neck. He headed out of the town south knowing Geralt was heading north to Kaer Morhen, he felt a little bad that the witcher would contemplate his words but ignored the feeling by assuring himself if he ever came to work it out even if he himself was long gone he might understand. Geralt looked so happy to see him but Jaskier was settled into his new routine, it still hurt and sometimes he cried but sometimes he felt happy that he too could rid the world of monsters.

He couldn't stay to see Geralt because to him he wasn't ridding the world of monsters he was the monster killing humans, Geralt would hunt him. He cried sometimes over their bodies not for the loss but thinking what would happen if Geralt had seen him. It doesn't stop him, nothing ever would. Nothing would ever stop him again.

Chapter Text

Geralt wasn’t waiting any days this time to talk about what he needed to, his mind spinning as he greeted everyone in the keep. Eskel looked him over eyes narrowed and promptly snorted telling him he looked like shit but, thankfully, didn't tell him to go to bed. Geralt suspect his brother might know he couldn't sleep so instead Vesemirs reluctantly joined the wolves and two other witcher's in the great hall. The great hall was now a delipidated hall as they all sat around the large roaring fire that kept the first freezing nights of winter at bay.

"I have a story, well someone--Jaskier told it in a tavern in Hagge." He ignored the looks exchanged because everyone knew of Jaskier and everyone knew that he wasn't mentioned anymore. Last year he came back after the dragon hunt and Lambert had mention Jaskier, Lambert had swiftly gotten a broken jaw and bloody nose.

"Geralt," Vesemirs said softly and it shut Geralt up looking into the ale that wasn't watered down like in every tavern between Nilfaard to Ard Carrigah .

"Fine, you tell the story about the tree on your desk." Geralt snaps without thinking and Vesemirs looks him over trying to deside which was best before nodding heavily.

"On my desk is a stone of blue, it's wrapped in wire shaped like a tree." He started and everyone was watching as no one knew the story, they had asked when they were small and never received and answer. "I was given it by Barmin, he told me the story when he gave it to me." Vesemirs smiles wistfully remembering long ago when the copper had shined a little bright and keep was alot cleaner. "Long before humans got here other gods were meant to be here, the ones the druids and fairies used to worship. There was a goddess of the rivers, she was meant to be as blue as the sea and as playful as a stream. The goddess of the river gave life to the people and the water she supplied gave harvest and fertility and let those who roam the land live off it. It was said the goddess came across an elf in the rocks trapped and raped lying at the shores as she was beaten by the males above her. The goddess of the river gave fertility and harvest and the girl was still hurt and so she dragged those males to the water and drowned them for what they did. The goddess let the river goes as it pleased and carnage followed for those the goddess was though ill favoured. The goddess of the river became the goddess of slaughter and carnage and so the people chose rocks to appease safe passage through turbulent waters, they would pick rocks the colour of the sea and carry them against the waves. Since then the rocks have stop being carried. Still old elven and druid rites call to put the stone as pure blue as the sea into the wire of trees for the goddess, in the past, was of harvest and growth and hopes the wire tree served as a reminded before the goddess killed them." Everyone was staring at Vesemirs the tale twisted and what every witcher looked forward to, Geralt was panting his vision on Vesemirs and nothing else. "Of course this was long ago, God's that are barely worshipped anymore. I imagine it's even hard to find a detailed book on her." Vesemirs shrugs and Eskel chuckles.

"I never heard of that one," A few chorus of ‘me neither’ are heard.

"I heard the second half, the goddess of destruction, war and carnage." Aiden says with a shrug. "Didn't know the origin though." Geralt was still staring at Vesemirs he couldn't rip his eyes away  from the amber slits but all he could see was Jaskier’s grin in the tavern. The flash of blue as he glanced back as bones broke. The way he stared at him in Hagge.

"Thats-" He stopped what could he say; wow that similar to what Jaskier said, do you think it has meaning? That's great but will the bard forgive me? I never let any of you meet him but I have suddenly begun wondering if normal people really have eyes like that?

"Geralt?" Eskel hand was on his arm eyes drunk and soft as he finally looks away from Vesemir only to immediately look back.

"You'll want to hear the story Jaskier told," Vesemir studied him and nodded and Geralt knew he was intrigued even as he tried to drunkly recall Jaskier words. "He said 'Do you know what the river loves? Rivers love to play, and then they get bigger and they love, if for just a moment, the sweet calm that comes after they flitted down mountainsides and tossed down waterfalls. Then they swell and the water beckons the animals and travellers, and the river loves itself as it carves the land into anything it pleases the water jostling and turning and its absolute carnage and the river, the river loves it. The river will take what it thinks owed and leave carnage and slaughter in its wake and it will give you water. The water to provide and help your harvest before it rolls playfully through the fields and you will all but forget that the river could lay waste and drags carnage and chaos in its depth. The river loves that." Geralt didn't find it necessary to repeat those word the way Jaskier had looking at him with that raw intensity before sweeping out into the brewing thunderstorm.

"Huh, your bard pretty well read," Aiden says alcohol loosening his tongue but Geralt was too deep in his own thoughts to glare at him for the slip of 'your bard' .

"I haven't heard the story in a century, I'm surprised Jaskier knew of it," Geralt was hoping Vesemirs would say more but that was it.

"How did he know of it?" Geralt grinds out words scratching up his throat fingers white knuckled for a second.

"You said he lectured in Oxenfurt, the boy is clearly intelligent and may have read it." He didn't want to tell them that it had meant more, that Jaskier had looked at him across the tavern not looking like Jaskier at all and grinned like an animal. "Any other stories that you picked up this year?" Vesemirs said to distract everyone from Jaskier and Geralt who was now staring blankly into space.

"Oh yeah, I was in Novigrad in autumn," Lambert starts gross excitement lacing his tone. "Apparently some bastard knight was killed but you should have seen it," He shook his head the smile at starting the story was gone. "The bastard eyes were torn from his skull sitting there on the table like little sweets, found him on the roof though crows had pecked him some much you could see bone. Should have seen his face though, I was hired to kill a monster but I've never seen a monster that could do that. Someone had stuck there hands into his head a ripped his face off," Lambert shook his head remembering the sight and Aiden even looks a little grossed out next to him.

"Humans ripped his face off and tore his eyes out?" Eskel said nose crinkled and Geralt was listening again now.

"Apparently the bastard ripped his wife's eyes out and killed his kid so God knows who did it but it sounded like he had it comin," Lambert shrugged.

"If you want human revenge I came back through Vartgen where the town was happily merrying away the days." Everyone was looking at Coën now who was leaning forward sipping gull. "Apparently some bastard major was always a little ready to chop of fingers or hands, the bar man who served me only had eight fingers. Took the hands off of all of his daughters lovers,"

"And?" Aiden asks.

"Some guy wanders into the town and he was about to take some boys hand off for stealing, apparently this stranger talked him out of it and then forced him to chop his own arm off. Idiot died of infection a week later." Coën finished and the witchers chatted excitedly between each other.

"I didn't ask for stories of humans murdering human for revenge," Vesemirs says tiredly after watching them but Geralt ignored him. The other witcher apparently shared the sentiment that revenge was the best topic for stories tonight.

"I heard that in Zurawia all the lawyers, major, his aides and a few soldiers jumped into the Pontar." Geralt says recalling the story from the tavern that they spoke of. "Apparently they did the same to prisoner that they couldn't be bothered to keep." Geralt adds despite Vesemirs dry look that said he didn't care for the story of blatent murder of humans.

"Human murdering isn't a story for witchers, you kill monsters." They all muttered and ignored Vesemir but did tell stories about their own monster not human ones.

*****

It was spring nearly the snow almost melted and Geralt was hesitating looking out across the valley arms rested on the cold bare stone.

"Will you try to find him again?"

Geralt considers the man that in another life, a happier one, would have been his father. "That story, the one with the river?" It didn't need answering, Vesemir knew what he was talking about. "It means something to him, you should have seen him Vesemir. It was a message."

"Are you sure?" It was an honest question he didn't want his cub becoming too lost in a story that wasn't for him. He already had begun noticing Geralt had taken to becoming more spaced out as he tried to work out the riddle of Jaskier. Jaskier that may have just told his cub an idle tavern story.

He sighs. "I think its a message I just don't understand it," He huffs and Vesemir next to him leans against the wall suddenly unending patience for Geralt’s few words. "Everything was confusing he changed his name, and he barely looks like Jaskier." Vesemir straightened slightly eyes narrowing worriedly, pupils thinning into slim lines as he looked to Geralt.

"Geralt maybe he wasn't Jaskier."

"It was, It just wasn't the Jaskier that travelled with me." Vesemirs eyes clouded with pity for his pup but he hid it before Geralt could see.

"He's human Geralt, you hurt each and he recovered however he could. Maybe he changed too when he didn't have you," Geralt wasn't oblivious to that implication and didn't address it nor plan to anytime soon.

Geralt was ready with roach at the gate, Aiden and Lambert had left a week ago, Coën three days since. Eskel shook his hand and headed onto the warmth of the keep again with a grin and 'see you next year'. Vesemir looked at his cub, and once Eskel was inside pulled the small item from his pocket.

"If you find Jaskier maybe you can give this to him," He places the small tree in Geralt hand even as the white haired witcher shook his head.

"Vesemirs I can't take this,"

"Take it, I think he'll appreciate much more than I ever could," His hand braces against Geralt before the brief show of affection was gone. "Just be careful Geralt," Geralt nodded as he always did and began the trek down the mountain.

*****

Jaskier was now introducing himself as Datura to the tavern owner, Datura was a group of poisonous flowers but he doubt the Inn keeper knew that. He gave him a drink all the same allowing him to pay a little less than he should at Dandelions soft kind smile. He drank and wandered back to the river that would grow and become the Juruga it would sweep past Sodden, curve the edge of Cintra and mix with the sea. Jaskier found a small area to get to the edge of the river without falling into its murky depths and sat again the bank feet in the rushing water as it passed through the south of Rivia.

"Jaskier?" The voice was rough and surprised and he knew instantly who it was and wondered if he could escape but he heard Geralt approach and for a second considered running. He could always throw himself into the river and hope for the best. It was too late by the time Geralt settled next to him and instead looked pointedly away. "Jaskier," He sounded in physical pain and Jaskier wanted to turn and check but pointedly kept his head away knowing that he had recovered and one look would send him crying again. "I'm so sorry," He jerked and looked to the witcher who looked as nervous as he had ever seen him hand tight to his sides.

"Go away," Dandelion managed, he didn't want to have this conversation admit that he lied to Geralt, admit anything more than this.

"I have something, for you," His words jolting and Dandelion couldn't help but look to his hand, one offered to him fingers curled around his palm to hid the offering. "Its- its for you- the river," There sat in his palm was the little tree the blue rock was glinting in the fading day light. Jaskier reached out fingers falling just short of the little structure, he didn't know if Geralt knew what the offering meant, Jaskier didn't even know what it meant. It was the colour of the sea a clear blue streaked with darker blues and Jaskier sighed. He took it from the witcher palm slowly and held it up to his face the smooth surface of blue was polished and old.

"Its beautiful," And it was although he wasn't sure if Geralt gave him this because of his story or because of what he may have deduced form the story. "Geralt,"

"It matches your eyes," Geralt lips twitched and he stayed there completely still as if Jaskier would vanish. Dandelion was thinking about just throwing himself into the river but the trinket was beautiful and Geralt was sat there hand out infront of him empty but not moved. "Their so blue," He sounded like he wanted to say more but dandelion understood the unsaid words, his eyes were too blue. Dandelion looked away realising the unspoken words were true and it reminded him of the years since they parted, he had become the monster Geralt hunted, he had given up his music and his life and settled into life without Geralt. Settled into what he had and there was no going back to twittering rants on the road and lively pub music and Geralts insults.

"Geralt, why are you here?"

"I need to tell you I didn't mean it, any of it," Geralt voice was low and clear making it ring with truth. "If you don't want to see me again then I can honour that but I need you to know," He chokes off and Jaskier looks like he was going to cry but his eyes remained on the blue and copper tree in his hands. He didn't want to look up and face him. See the gold eyes that would be staring into him with haunting familiarity. "I'm sorry,"

"I'm sorry too Geralt," He admits finally looking into the golden eyes the pupil wide with focus as he stared straight at Jaskier and he was ripped away from the moment by scratching against his neck, the red Robin was pecking insistently and twittering until Jaskier offers a hand for it to jump on. He felt Geralt eyes follow the bird and relaxed a little without his eyes on him. His breathing sped up as the bird twittered at the little tree before flying up infront of them both it swept the river before landing light as feather on Geralt leather clad knee. It squarked and Jaskier held out his hand again the bird hoping back. "Geralt," He had to stop his panting making him dizzy small stars covering his vision as he panicked he slipped his feet and ankles into the water again and the cool pressure of water slowing his racing heart. Geralt was staring at him worried halfway between reaching for him but thinking better of it. Dandelion gave him a smile, it was Jaskier smile the darkness lurking behind it was gone.

"You okay?" He nods quickly at Geralt and swallows thickly.

"It's very pretty but you don't need to bribe me with nice rocks to make it safely across the river," He made his voice as soft as he could hoping the gentle implication would click into place.

"Vesemirs said you might have known the story," If this hadn't been such a careful moment Dandelion might have laughed.

"I bet he did," Dandelion blue eyes went to the tree in his hand he could feel how old it was and gently placed it back in Geralt palm. "You should give it back to him," Geralt manages a smile.

"Your story, I wanted to give it to you." He says and Dandelion closes his fingers around Geralt’s holding the small tree in Geralt fist.

"It's a good story Geralt but the reason people made the stone is for safety, you don't need to beg for safety." Jaskier eyes shining in the purple dusk the river was flat and calm almost perfectly reflecting the sky. The robin ruffled its feathers once again gently urging him on. "Geralt you do know why I told the story?"

"I knew it was a message," He mutter conviction and worry intertwined. "I'm sorry Jaskier, I – I couldn't figure it out." Jaskier wasn't that surprised when he told the story didn't really want Geralt to figure it out.

"Don't worry," His hands retracted thumb going to the little bird that had been with him for two years. Comfort spread through him at the familiar feel of feather against his skin and boldly he looked back to the witcher. "I thought you'd figured it out when you gave me that," Slowly something seemed to click in Geralt’s eyes but he wasn’t going to stop now. Dandelions eyes slipped to the river and with a simple errant thought the water began twisting like the earth was shaking the water lapped and splashed against the bank soaking both him and Geralt in a matter of seconds. "I thought you'd realised Geralt,” He sighed. “I'm the thing that used to be offered stones for safe passages."

"Fuck," Geralt eyes widened and he stared from the water to Jaskier wide eyes that were so so blue. "Your Agrona," His words breathless and Jaskier smiles wider, he had done his research with the story. "Your a goddess?" Geralt eyes trailed down him and Jaskier laughed a real laugh, he hadn’t laughed like this in years. Since the tavern at the base of the mountain before the witch, the dragon and that awful angry argument.

"It's an old story Geralt," He waggle his eyebrows and although Geralt still looked in shock Jaskier shuffled a tiny bit closer freezing before he could lay his head on the witcher shoulder. He began panting again as the warmth from the reveal faded out of him and into the ground. His smile falls flinching back.

"Of course you’re a goddess," Geralt groaned still wide with shock but he seemed to be overall excepting. It made dandelion feel worse and Geralt felt the shift. "What's wrong?"

"Geralt I'm a monster," He could see the protest on the witchers lips. "You say a monster is made by what you do, what do you think I do Geralt to be called the goddess of war?" His words low and shaky.

"Jask," His voice soft as hands scared by war and slaughter reached for the god who was meant to own such things but now sobbed quietly on the shore. Night had drawn in and every star was covered by the clouds. They could both hear the clap of thunder across the flat plains, Geralt hands curled gently across Jaskier palms. "I'll never think you are a monster,"

"Geralt in that tavern last autumn those stories," He notices his gold eyes glaze over as the last piece of the puzzle slid into place, if he was Agrona then the war and slaughter part of the story also had to be true. "The stories of the monsters there all true."

Geralt doesn't loosen his grip on his hand. "I listened to those stories, you hurt the people who hurt others." Jaskier breathing had all but stopped all his focus on Geralt and he was barely aware of how everything around them had paused mimicking him as he sat hand warmed by Geralt own heat. "You weren't the monster in those stories Jaskier." He melts inside at the words they sat in silence for a long time Geralt waiting for Jaskier. Jaskier didn't know what to tell him; that those words made him indescribably happy or that he didn't understand the extent of what he had done.

"I did it when I was with you as well, just one or two occasionally and never so... publicly."

"But then I left you," Geralt voice broke with guilt and Jaskier wanted to pull him closer but resisted just like he always had.

"I didn't at first but then I did, I hadn't in so so long. Then you weren't there and I didn't have an image to keep up." Geralt watched the bard from the corner of his eyes as Jaskiers lips twitched.

"What happened?" An invitation not a demand and Jaskier shuffled closer relieved when Geralt did pull away. Tentatively in a way Geralt had never seen Jaskier the bard rested his head on the man shoulder.

"There was a girl in the square and they were going to lash her to death for fucking someone. Geralt, I - I just saw me in her and I killed them if they agreed with the punishment. Every single one that agreed I just killed."

"They were evil," Geralt voice was certain and he pulled Jaskier even closer even as he began to shake like a leaf in a hurricane. Jaskiers face buried into the witcher neck, nose and lips against the scarred skin there. 

"I'm evil," His hand clawed at Geralt even at the admission he enjoys the soft look in the golden cat eyes. His head pulled back just far enough so he could look down at Jaskier who was pressed against his side one leg bent his ankle just inside of geralt knees. 

"Your beautiful," It was quiet whisper low enough it was obvious Geralt didn't actually want Jaskier to hear. "and you can be mean but your not evil, what you did them- it wasn't evil," Jaskier heard him only a breath away from Geralt face it was impossible not to, he relaxed instantly at the words. Slowly the world moved again the river slow and calm the cloud clearing a little so bright stars could shine through. Geralt held his gaze. "Will you stay with me, I promise to never say anything like that again."

"Then I'll stay," His heart soared and as if to prove it the bird tweeted on his shoulder and jumped to Geralt armoured shoulder. With the birds movement drawing a gold flicker of eyes geralt stilled in shock at the soft press of wet lips against his own. 

*****

The winter came fast the cold invisable one night and freezing the ground solid by morning.  However, the path was safer than most years Geralt taken it and he was glad as Jaskier started the dangerous walk up the mountain by his side. Geralt didn't want the bard to struggle up the mountain although with recent revelations he knew Jaskier probably had something to do with more assessable path. Geralt led roach, Jaskier warm body tight against his side as they stomped through the thin snow. Red Jaskier beloved fluffy robin was burrowed into the warm furs around Geralt’s neck much to his fake displeasure. Geralt loved the bird much quicker than he like to admit, he had originally attempted to scare it off but it seemed nature was much like Jaskier - not afraid of anything. After they travelled up through Lyria and all Jaskier's past deeds had been sobbed into Geralt’s old shirt at every campfire Geralt had finally asked about the music or lack thereof. Jaskier shivering and sobbing admitted to the past through hiccups, Geralt who had seen him shed tears over lovers had never seen the man so absolutely soul-wrenchingly broken.

He insisted, constantly, that Geralt could pick up contracts on the way but speed was imperative to Geralt as Jaskier led him to the forest were a small stream and an old tree stood. Geralt was never one for amazement but the way Jaskiers finger trailed against the old wood and it rippled under his touch was nothing short of astounding. He wondered again if nature had always reacted to Jaskier with such familiarity and had vague memories of him passing through thick forest with nothing so substantiale as a single scratch or nettle string. Geralt watched the tree part and smiled widely as Jaskier let out a startled laugh upon seeing the smooth un-harmed coat of his lute nettled in the heart of the tree. Geralt didn't tell him it was beautiful until a few night later when they were both warm next to a small fire sharing the same air with Geralts arms tightly grasping against Jaskier's back.

"Are you sure about this?" Jaskier shifted as they walked looking up to Geralt his own face all wide and innocent. Geralt knew who -what- he was now but he still couldn't help but feel protective of him even knowing the carnage he controlled at his fingertips. Geralt knew that Jaskier hadn't shown him everything but he had no intention of forcing the man secrets from him. 

"You know I've been talking about you for two decades, I'm wondering how long it will take them to realise you don't quite look the right age." Geralt hand unconsciously brushed Jaskier now pink cheeks but he only blushed harder. Geralt smiled at the sight of his bard prettily flushed and now that he could he simply allowed himself to curl his forearm against Jaskiers hips as they continued the walk.

"You wouldn't have noticed for another decade or two, witcher," Jaskier laugh was bright and Geralt revelled in the sound completely relaxed even as they got to the gate. "This should be good, I'll finally know what you say behind my back," Geralt looked away as his eyebrows wiggled thinking of all the times he sang praises of the man. Geralt hoped in someway that his brothers would mention his praises simply because then Jaskier would know that all the insults had never been serious, except he wouldn't have to voice the thoughts himself. 

"Nothing bad Jask, because there nothing bad to say," The bard snuggles into the warmth of his side, but snorts like he doubted the words. Geralt knew he had annoying habits, he knew he killed but there was truth in the words because Jaskier was many things but not bad, annoying at times yes but not bad. Jaskier grasped at geralt his slim hand sneaking under geralts furs until his fingers closed comfortingly around his. With a smile at the bard Geralt let out a peircing whistle one hand covering his bards ears. Heavy doors thudded open hard wood slammed into stone as Vesemirs and Eskel greet them, both with smiles and bright eyes that didn’t hide the shrewd look over Jaskier received. Smiling brightly Jaskier took a step forward his grip tightening as he introduced himself, heart fluttering in his chest loud enough to be heard by every witcher present, Eskel gave him a look over Jaskier shoulder. His brother approached grin on his face and brought him into a tight hug limbs crushing him as Jaskier hand remained in his.

It was later, after Eskel had dragged Geralt away with a promise of a catch up over gwent that Vesemirs met him outside Geralt room.

"I assume you'd like this back?" Jaskier smile playful as his hand unfurled to show the small delicate tree that sat nestled in his palm.

"Only if it's served its purpose," Vesemirs eyes may be old but they looked over Jaskier with the wiseness one got from centuries. Jaskier laughed.

"I think it's served its purpose," His fingers calloused from years of playing strings gently pressed against the beautiful blue rock. "Do you know where its from?" Vesemirs waited silently and Jaskier took this as cue from  previous experience with witchers with an inelegant snort.

"The rock is from Skelliage it was stollen from druids before even you were born."

"Interesting," Vesemir says peering at the little tree before nodding once smartly and plucking the small tree from Jaskiers palm with in-human speed. He quickly disappearing around a corner before Jaskier could ask anymore questions. Jaskier ran a hand through brown locks and bounced down to the courtyard where Eskel was talking avidly to Geralt who only offered an occasional grunt to show his attention.

"There you are, this place is a maze!" He goes over to join them and Geralt watches as his feet lightly dance against the ground hair tousled in the low wind. He launches at Geralt falling into his side with a lazygrin. The grin didn't have too many incisor or a dark twist, his eyes weren’t lit up with a vicious light, Geralt still saw him look like that but that look that was not quite Jaskier was reserved for others only. It was usually shot toward murders and rapists, bandits who had taken but twice it hadn't been shown not to scum of the earth but directed across the bar to people who insults Geralt. Geralt would never tell Jaskier but when he acted so aggressively towards people who insulted him he loved him all the more for it as he had rarely had someone so protective of him before.

"I can't believe we finally get to meet you, are you going to sing for us?" Eskel asks as Geralt tuned back into the conversations. "Geralt says you are the best," Jaskier grinned at the compliment and slid his hand into Geralt’s finger curling comfortably around his.

"How could I deny you Eskel?" He jokes and then encourages the witcher to continue his story. Geralt let them chat, until eventually they all retreated to the warmth offered by the old keep. They made it most of the way through winter before suspicious eyes landed on Jaskier. Eskel was, thankfully, kind enough to bring the matter up in private. Jaskier had been a taboo subject for years and the man could tell he shouldn't bring up the fact Jaskier wasn't human in front of the others.

"Eskel he's not an elf," Geralt says again, for the third time since the conversation began and Eskel flung his hands around listing everything that suggested Jaskier was in fact an elf, if he didn't know better the argument would convince him. Eskel argument embarrassingly included things that he had not ever really thought about; how his bards footsteps were lighter than should be possible, how he slept as much as a witcher and never seemed too tired, how he his reactions were so quick he was only a fraction slower than a witcher and worse the list went on. "He's not a danger."

"I know he's not a danger!" He threw his hands up. "You've been travelling and talking about him for two decades, he is clearly not a threat but he's also clearly not human." Geralt bit his lips wondering how he had been so oblivious, he spent every day-all day with Jaskier for decades and never figured it out, it had taken Eskel a month. It wasn't even as if Geralt had had suspicions but ignored them, he had never thought anything more than the errant thought that he's too pretty to be human.

"Just don't tell anyone," His voice a low rumbling threat but Eskel snorted unimpressed and stomped back outside to the courtyard where they continued to fight while Jaskier watched. Overhead it was a dark wintery day the occasional flurry of snowflakes cooling their skin heated from exercise.

"God!" Lambert curses hitting Aiden with the flat of the sword dramatically looking to the sky. Geralt rolled his eyes and tuned his hearing into Jaskier absent minded humming across the courtyard. "I miss the fucking sun, where even is it?" He says sighing heavily like he really did miss the sun. Jaskier continued to humm not looking up from the notebook he was currently scrawling in but Geralt felt the bright light of the sun's rays focusing on them, the whisper of wind caressing skin as the clouds were whisked away. "What?" Lambert shrugged dismissing Aiden's widened eyes. Aiden just kicked him again harder eyes pointedly looking around Geralt.

"Oh shit," Coën says eyes following Aiden’s as well, Jaskier continued humming completely oblivious of all the eyes now on him. Geralt wonders if he had always been that obvious and how he had never noticed before. When they travelled it never got that cold Geralt used to see flurries of snow befroe entering Kaer Morhen but not since knowing Jaskier and it always rained if they couldn't find a river, rained just enough that his skin would be clean of blood and gore. Geralt scrubbed a hand against his face.

"Jaskier a mage?" Lambert asked and finally the bard looked up to find the group of sweaty witchers staring at him. Geralt raised an eyebrow recognising the confused look Jaskier had and flicked his eyes to the sky. The blue eyes followed his gaze so quickly it was barely visable.

"Oh thank Melitele the sun's out!" He says jumping up as if he had not been responsible for the change. "I've been waiting for the sun for ages!" He disappeared inside and Lambert shook his head.

"So not a mage then," Lambert concludes spinning the blade around his wrist. "I just have good timing." Aiden looked like he doubted it but met the thrust of his sword. Geralt felt a little more eased, maybe Jaskier wasn't quite so obvious about it than he thought. Eskels golden cat-eyes caught his and the witcher smirked looking far too smug for Geralt's liking.

It was a week later when they were sat telling stories, usually it was a joyful affair only the best stories making the cut but Aiden was talking a story that ended with a young boy dead after he was sacrificed for an old druid customs in Nilfgaard. The whole room shook with lightening when Aiden mentioned the body was thrown in the Yarra river after ritualistic sacrifice. Geralt hand tightened on Jaskier thigh under the table and lightning struck again. Still no one said anything because why would you a guess a human bard made lightening it certainly hadn't been Geralt guess. It wasn't any of their guesses either which made geralt feel slightly better as he clutched a little tighter to Jaskier, Eskel didn’t even give him a suspicious look.

The winter was long, it had been long for the last few years, Geralt considered that maybe Jaskier had an emotional reach that was as large as the continent, the winters stretched because he was morning the loss of his White Wolf. He didn't think his reach was that extensive though, so decided that maybe the winter would always be this long now. The days were sunny enough the snow should have melted instead it lay frozen still just slightly too thick to leave.

"They'll be here next year Jask," He said to the bard - his bard lying in the bed next to him. "We can go back on the path and next winter we'll come back and they'll all still be here." Blue eyes blinked up groggily half way to sleep but Jaskier offered him a soft smile before resting his head onto Geralt bare shoulder and drifting to sleep. It melted the next day and Coën and Aiden left leaving only the wolves to remain. Vesemir shook Jaskier hand but willingly leant forward as the bard did so too. Blue eyes like the sea studied him for a second, Jaskier raised a single delicate eyebrow.

"You know don't you?" 

"That I do," The old witcher accepts making Jaskier grin. "but your secrets safe with me."

"I know," Jaskier smiled. He gave a glittering wink to Vesemir and just before his eyes shut the eldest witcher caught the disturbing inhumanness of it, the black was gone instead there was a circle of blue changing as much as small green-blue stream. Then he winked and Jaskier was stood there a cheeky grin on his face. "Did you know before Geralt did?"

Vesemir shrugs noncommittally in answer clasping his hand. Jaskier gave a tiny exasperated shake of his head before joining Geralt at the gates, hand brushing against his forearm as he leans up pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

So, the two men left on the road again, following the path beside the Gwenllech leading down the mountain rocks. Geralt wondered yet again how he'd never noticed before. The bard hopped and danced in the small torrent of water becoming soaked in seconds, his laugh of brilliant elation as he flicked water at Geralt. Geralt shook his head but couldn't help the smile as he paused wondering how it escaped his notice; the water splashing at him not him splashing the water, the way he danced though the uneven river bed like a mountain goat, his eyes almost completely blue as he moved. The red robin twittered above his head and he whistled back in a perfect mimicry and a raven swooped down before circling overhead, Geralt thought of the chaos he wielded and the acidic burn of magic and looked back to Jaskier. This was real magic Geralt thought surely as he watched a snow fox dart between the trees. Jaskier eyes met his, the blue of the river to his gold and he grinned.

This was magic.

Real magic right next to him and he had never even noticed.