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“Butcher!”
“Murderer!”
“Freak!”
“We don’t want your kind here!”
Jaskier had heard it all when traveling with the witcher. He heard the grumblings of tavern patrons as the pair would have a meal or when he was performing for some extra coin. He heard the screams as they walked down the streets, his companion having just finished a contract that saved these people’s very lives. He had heard every nasty thing thrown against the man like they were nothing, like Geralt was nothing.
To say the least, Jaskier hated it. He had hated it since that adventure in Posada when Geralt had given Filavandrel his coin to help the elves try and start a new life. From that day forward, the bard had done everything he could to clear the witcher’s name and give him the full glory he rightfully deserved. He was the White Wolf, the man who saved countless lives, and asked for hardly anything in return. From the traveling he had done with Geralt, the man deserved the riches of the world for the work he had done all over the continent. Instead he was given foul words, cruel treatment, and little pay. It made the bard’s blood boil.
He had had the final straw when after a particularly hard ghoul hunt, he had joined Geralt to receive his payment. The town they were in was already quite callous, and the two had just wanted to get out as soon as possible so they could find a place to camp and finally relax. Jaskier would prefer an inn. A place with warm food and an even warmer bed was something he liked far more than the harsh ground and cold winds at night. That being said, Jaskier would happily take harsh ground over someone throwing rocks at them for just staying the night.
The alderman had been curt with Geralt as he came for his payment. It was obvious by his hunched frame and scowl that he wasn’t happy to pay the witcher for his services, even though just a day ago he was pleading for his help with the ghouls. The man was quick to count the coin and shove it in a pouch before haphazardly throwing it across his desk towards the two.
“Here, take your bloody coin and get out of my sight.” He spoke gruffly, quickly trying to busy himself with some documents that were scattered about his desk.
Geralt had gone and grabbed the pouch with only a nod. The man wasn’t one for many words, less so after such an exhausting fight, but Jaskier was capable for the both of them to speak.
“Excuse me sir, but I believe you haven’t paid my friend here his fair share.”
The alderman’s shoulders tensed, his gaze moving up to look back up to the two of them. “What did you say?”
Jaskier took a step forward, puffing out his chest in his burst of confidence. “I said, you haven’t paid my friend what he is owed. I watched you count and you have not paid him for what was agreed for how many ghouls you had said there were. Not only that, but there was at least double your count of the things. My friend deserves at least triple of what you’ve just given him.”
With every word Jaskier spoke, the alderman’s face began to grow redder and redder. He abruptly stood from his seat, his chair falling with a loud crash, and his voice becoming louder, “How dare you accuse me you bumbling idiot! I have given this witcher what he deserves, even more! He should be thanking me for even giving him what I have. Now leave here before I have you arrested for such an accusation.”
The bard clenched his jaw tightly, his face turning into his own scowl. How dare he say such a thing. How dare he think Geralt is worth so little even after nearly dying for this stinking town! He opened his mouth to rightfully tell the thickheaded man before someone had grabbed onto his bicep to stop him from speaking.
“Enough Jaskier,” Was all Geralt told him, eyes stern and grip strong as he held him back.
Jaskier’s lips turned into a tight frown, eyes pleading as he looked to the witcher. He deserved more! Surely he knew that. He couldn’t just let this idiot not give him what he was owed. He desperately wanted to argue more, but with a final tug on his arm he held his tongue and followed Geralt out of the alderman’s office and down the street to head out of town. Jaskier was grumbling the entire time about what a pig headed man the alderman was and how he was going to write a song that would ridicule such treatment. Geralt remained silent as he guided Roach out of town. Jaskier glared at every townsfolk that glowered at them as they left.
The two were quick to leave and get as much distance between them and the town as possible. Once out of town, Geralt had mounted Roach and remained to keep his ever going apparent vow of silence. Had this been any other journey, Jaskier would happily fill their quiet conversation. Whether that was playing his lute, figuring out new lyrics, or just talking, the bard had plenty of ways to not have the silence just hang. After such an encounter though, the brunet kept quiet, only occasionally grumbling on how horrid the town was and how he would have loved to give each person there a piece of his mind. If Geralt heard him, he gave no indication. Jaskier didn’t care one way or another.
The duo traveled in the final hours of daylight there was before moving off the path and into the wilderness, finding a small clearing within the forest. Geralt murmured something about finding something to eat and moved off deeper into the woods. This wasn’t unexpected. After traveling together for so long, the pair had come up with a system for the evening. Geralt would go off to hunt along with searching the perimeter to ensure they would be safe. Jaskier would then set up camp: light a fire, set up their bedrolls, prepare for dinner, brush off Roach and make sure she had plenty to eat, and make sure they had enough firewood to last the night if it was particularly cold.
Jaskier set off to do his tasks without much thought. Having done them so often, he didn’t have much trouble with the mundane chores as he continued to think about the day’s events. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the alderman’s words out of his mind. Not that he was really trying hard to not think about it, but he couldn’t help but be troubled by them. Why was it so hard for people to see Geralt as he saw him? Why was it so hard to see how selfless and caring he was towards mankind? Could they not see he had spent his entire life, which was incredibly long mind you, only trying to protect and save their ungrateful asses? His literal job was to hunt monsters that killed humans! How stupid could you be to hate the person that kept you alive? Jaskier let these questions run through his mind, unable to find any answers. It only had the anger in his blood continue to simmer. His frown remained along with his sulking mood.
His uncharasistic silence hung heavy on his shoulders as Geralt returned with what seemed to be one hare in hand. It would be a light dinner then. Jaskier didn’t mind. He didn’t think he could eat too much anyway with how his anger was affecting him. He began preparing a spit to cook the hare along with a light broth to go with the meat. In the past, he would have been horrified at the thought of preparing a meal from such a fresh kill. In fact he would gag when watching Geralt skin animals that he would have to turn away. He knew better now after traveling so long with the witcher. Killing animals was just a part of traveling.
Dinner had cooked silently, along with being eaten silently. Jaskier didn’t have it in him to talk and not let his anger overwhelm him, so he kept his thoughts to himself. He’d rather try and have them get past the experience and onto better adventures. With that in mind, he thought it would be best to try and sleep off his vindictive mood and wake up the next day refreshed and back to his happy self. After cleaning up his dinner, he moved to begin preparing his bedroll.
“You’re unusually quiet.” Jaskier froze where he was. Geralt usually would complain about how loud he was being, more often than not telling him to fuck off. It was very rare that he would mention how quiet the bard was.
Jaskier took a measured breath, ensuring to keep his voice level. “I’m just keeping quiet. Thought you’d like it after a hard contract.” He responded, trying to give him his usual smile, but it was more of a grimace.
Geralt’s lips turned down into a frown, eyebrows furrowing. For always being so charismatic, the bard was a terrible liar, and they both knew that. “Jask. Tell me.”
The bard’s shoulders slumped down as his chin fell to his chest. He could never get anything past the witcher no matter how hard he tried. Well, if Geralt wanted to know what was bothering him so bad then he wouldn’t be one to withhold information.
“I’m mad, Geralt. No, not mad. I’m enraged. Why did you let that ass of a man walk all over you? Why didn’t you stand up for yourself? You know he underpaid you! After all that work you did and you were hardly paid anything. I saw Geralt. I saw what you had to go up against. I know you told me not to follow you, but I did and you deserved every coin that man could give you and then some!” Jaskier had tried to keep his voice calm, but by the end of his rant he was yelling, hands on his hips and fuming.
Geralt stood then, golden eyes burning in fury. “You did what? I told you to stay behind! You could have gotten yourself killed!” He roared, towering over Jaskier now with his fists clenched at his sides.
Jaskier would have been terrified of Geralt’s fury in the past, maybe even a bit scared now, but he was far too angry to care at this point. He got right into the other’s face and continued his screaming.
“I don’t care and it doesn’t matter! I watched and with how many ghouls you killed it justified better pay! You,” he shouted and pressed a finger into the witcher’s chest, “should have demanded it! How are you going to take care of yourself if you let these people treat you like trash!”
“Why do you even care? It’s already done and over with!”
“Because I love you, you stupid witcher!”
The forest was silent.
Geralt’s eyes went wide, and Jaskier’s once boiling blood now ran cold. Had he really said what he thought he just did? Geralt tried to rein in his shocked expression, turning his gaze away from the man before him. He quickly tried to deny what he had heard, “You’re lying.”
Jaskier felt his heart break. Out of all the things he has lied about, out of all the fake stories he had told Geralt, out of everything he is, this was not something he would lie about.
“I am not lying, Geralt of Rivia, and if you would just see how much you are worth it you would know it to be true. I’ve never once tried to hide my feelings from you.” He muttered forcefully, voice hoarse with emotion.
While confessing his love was the last thing he had wanted to do, Jaskier wasn’t going to deny it. He wasn’t going to deny how he first fell for him after trying to save him after being captured in Posada. He wasn’t going to deny the fluttering of his heart when seeing the rare smile Geralt would give him. He wasn’t going to deny the attraction at seeing Geralt in action, sword in hand and determined expression. He wasn’t going to deny the heartbreak he felt when he first saw Geralt fall for Yennefer after the djinn and countless times after, and how it only hurt worse when he was given such little attention afterwards. He wasn’t going to deny that it was going to hurt even worse now that his secret was out and he would be forced to leave because Geralt didn’t feel the same.
Jaskier took a shaking breath, taking a step away from the witcher and looking out into the forest. He began blinking away the sting of tears as he spoke his next words, “It doesn’t matter anyway, whether I love you or not. I know your heart is set on Yene-someone else. I understand. I just wanted you to take care of yourself. Heh, I apologize if that makes you uncomfortable. I’ll leave in the morning so I won’t be such a bother to you anymore.”
His voice broke and he took a moment to compose himself. He knew Geralt would not feel the same. He saw where the witcher preferred to look for love over and over. That didn’t stop Jaskier from feeling so devastated as he did now.
The bard heard Geralt begin to move, but he didn’t dare look at him now. The man was probably disgusted with him, and wanted to get away as far as he could. He would feel the same if he was in his boots. Jaskier continued to fight against the tears in his eyes as he began spiralling into self doubt and hate, until all of a sudden he felt arms around his torso and his face was suddenly met with a firm chest.
“If I were to ever see my worth, I would need my idiot bard by my side you know.”
Jaskier stopped breathing, unable to believe what he just heard. He tried to push away from Geralt’s chest, but the witcher’s arms only tightened around him. He lifted up his head, his watery gaze meeting a golden one just as teary. For once in his life, the chatterbox bard was shocked speechless. Geralt chuckled at the smaller man’s expression. After a moment, his amusement turned serious and he began to speak once more.
“I’m . . . sorry for not expressing myself properly. It’s hard for me to find the right words, and even more difficult to explain my actions. I’m sorry for that Jaskier. I never meant for you to think I did not care for you. I actually feel quite the opposite. I maybe care for you too much. I was just too scared to admit it, both to myself and to you. I felt unworthy of your love, if by some you chance felt the same.”
Jaskier was dreaming. That had to be the only explanation as he listened to Geralt speak more words than he had ever spoken in one sitting. With how Geralt looked at him though, this soft yet vulnerable expression, he could not have faked it. The bard had seen love countless times, he wrote countless ballads about it, but never had he seen such genuine love in his life. It was that genuine love that finally broke him, and his tears began falling down his cheeks.
Geralt’s expression suddenly turned panicked before Jaskier had a chance to speak, “You absolute git. You are worthy of everything. You deserve the world, much more than my love could ever give you.” He wept, almost out of frustration now. How Geralt could still call himself unworthy of anything just lit a fire in the bard’s chest.
The witcher outright laughed, and it was music to the bard’s ears. Jaskier chuckled along with a watery smile, wiping away his lingering tears.
“Come, I think we’re both exhausted after such a day.” Geralt voiced, pulling Jaskier along to his bedroll. The man hummed in agreement, suppressing a yawn behind his hand.
Geralt loosened his hold on his bard, but kept him in arms reach as they both prepared for bed. He took off his armor and stoked the fire for the night as Jaskier took off his doublet and pulled their previously separated bedrolls together with a smirk. The witcher only rolled his eyes at his antics, but didn’t complain. The two eventually laid down, Geralt pulling Jaskier close to his side and the brunet laying his head onto the other’s chest, his ear right above his heart. It was a few moments later that he felt a chaste kiss being pressed against his head. He couldn’t stop himself from grinning and letting out a pleased sound.
As they laid there, with Geralt’s heartbeat lulling him to sleep, Jaskier vowed right then that there would never be another day where Geralt would feel unworthy ever again. As long as he still had breath in his lungs and love in heart, he would make Geralt learn that he was deserving of love and everything good that this world had to offer.