Chapter Text
The first flower petal Jaskier notices is snow white.
He clears his throat, coughs and on his tongue he finds the single petal waiting, stained by the remnants of blood after the djinn attack.
He studies it, so tiny and frail between his fingers. From the window behind him he can hear the sorceress purr and Geralt, his Geralt groan.
Jaskier drags the elf with him towards town. There are questions he needs answered and the Witcher is obviously busy.
When they are alone he shows the petal to the elf. Simply holds it up and looks at him, demanding an explanation as if the elves have all of the awnser.
”What’s this?” He asks.
”It was in my mouth. Is this the djinns magic? Or the sorceress?” Jaskier asks, his throat still a little sore.
”Her name is Yennefer.” The elf says and picks up the petal and studies it. ”And no. It is past the season of flowers, but it could be just a flower.”
Jaskier doesn’t like the phrasing of that. At all.
”And if it's… not just a flower?” Jaskier asks. ”And if it's not the djinn and not.. Yennefer.” It's hard not to spit out her name. The elf obviously harbors feelings for her and it seems unwise to upset him. ”What is it?”
The elf hesitates, twirling the petal between his fingers.
”Tell me, bard. Is there elven blood in your family?” The elf studies Jaskier closely, as if he suddenly would reveal pointy ears. This is not the question Jaskier expected. Also not a topic he is comfortable with, considering the prejudice roaring around the continent against anyone with barely a drop of elven blood in their veins.
”Why? Is it an elven curse?”
The elf gives him a forlorn smile.
”More like a disease. The word for it in your tongue would be Hanahaki. Only those of elven descent can get it, and even then only those who are in desperate unrequited love are at risk. It’s very rare and is only cured when the feelings are returned.”
“But I'm not in love.” He cocks his head in confusion, and ignores the stinging he felt looking inside that window. The countess just broke his heart after all, and the witcher...
“Then it's probably just a petal.” The elf says and shrugs. “And all the better for it. It’s not a nice disease, bard. Not many actually find their cure.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“And what happens to them?” Jaskier asks, not wanting to hear the answer but needing to know all the same. It can’t be what’s happening to him. He is not in love. And his elven blood is so far back it only shows itself through a longer life. There is no way this applies to him. But just in case, he must know.
“They die. Suffocate. The petals turn into flowers, sometimes vines. It fills their lungs and when they can’t get out anymore, it’s over.”
The elf gives him the petal back and pats him on the shoulder.
“If you are not in love, you should be fine. Just keep a lookout will you? If you start coughing up petals, you need to find a healer. One with magic.”
The elf squeeze his shoulder a little before he walk away. Jaskier stands there with the white petal in his hand, deep in thought.
~~
Yennefer pants against Geralt's ear, sweat cooling between them. Geralt says nothing, but there is a churning feeling in his chest. It is rather uncomfortable, and when Yen gets off of him and straightens her dress he just stays there on the floor.
“You didn’t have to save me, witcher.” She says, voice cold despite them just having mindblowing sex.
“You’re welcome.” Geralt mutters sarcastically, buttoning up his clothes again while still on the floor. When her dress is impeccable again she looks down on him with a calculating look.
“What?” he asks, staring back. That churning is getting heavier, a feeling close to regret, of something being off.
“Why did you make that wish?” She asks and Geralt blinks, surprised.
“I couldn’t just let you die.” Geralt says and sits up. All his muscles ache from falling through the floor, and not to mention their recent activity.
“Why not? You don’t owe me anything.” She says and Geralt snorts.
“You ask this after you fuck me?”
“I am asking you this after I fucked you yes.”
“You saved Jaskier.” Geralt shrugs.
“That’s all?” Her perfectly shaped eyebrows clubs up her forehead.
“You are powerful and clever and that would have been a shitty death.”
Yennefer's eyes twinkle and she smirks.
“Not beautiful?”
“You already know that you are.” Geralt stands up slowly and dust of his pants. He means every word he says but it doesn’t feel right.
“You have known me for a day. That wish is a big commitment.”
“I know. But it saved you so it was worth it.” He looks arounds, out the window. It would seem the others left. Well, he can’t really blame them. But his stomach does an uncomfortable flip anyway.
He leaves the sorceress behind. He knows he will meet her again. The churning in his chest intensifies and he hurries his step towards town. He needs to know Jaskier is safe.
~~
Geralt finds him outside the tavern. He is leading Roach with their packing strapped on their back. He is alone, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. He just dislikes the witch, is all. He is not in love with anyone.
Geralt reaches him and they look each other up and down. Geralt certainly looks a bit beaten up and Jaskier can’t claim to be much better. He hasn't taken the time to clean up yet, his shirt still unbuttoned at the throat and spotted with his blood.
“Alright?” Geralt asks him, frown on his face. Jaskier nods and tries for a smile.
“You?” he asks, motions a hand towards Geralt. “Sounded a bit like… ah.. you fell through a floor?” Geralt gives him a small smile and no, Jaskier is not in love. He is merely not used to seeing that expression is all.
“I did.” And then Geralt does something completely unexpected. He lifts his hand and thumbs away some of the dried blood off his chin.
And Jaskier does his utmost best to ignore his aching chest.