Chapter Text
when you are gone away
The problem with following a witcher and his sorceress all over the continent is that real life has a tendency to become horrifying, and so when Jaskier has a nightmare, he can't always tell it's a nightmare till he's been scared to his bones, fought his way to consciousness, and then spent several minutes checking his surroundings to make sure it was actually a dream.
It got worse after Geralt nearly fucking died on him, the inconsiderate arsehole.
Geralt insists he was fine, that he was nowhere close to dying, but the whole incident has haunted Jaskier ever since. No one should ever lose that much blood, or have actual holes in their- he can't think about it.
Jaskier has seen Geralt fight uncountable legions of terrifying monsters, he's had close calls with all manner of nasties, he's almost died enough times that a cat would envy how many lives he must have, he's even (most frightening of all) survived leering at Yennefer of Vengerberg, but Geralt pale and still, barely breathing, heartbeat so inhumanly slow Jaskier wasn't sure if it was his imagination, is the scariest thing he's ever faced.
Frankly, he could've done with Yennefer in that moment, would've actively welcomed a witch to help Geralt heal, and the one good thing about her continued presence in their lives is the knowledge she'd come if Geralt needed her help. It's scant comfort, but when he wakes in a cold sweat from yet another dream where Geralt's guts aren't where they should be, he's reassured if Yen's tent is in the clearing. Even if he hates literally everything else about the situation, having an incredibly powerful mage on Geralt's side is a good thing.
Sometimes, Yen's presence even allows him to relax enough to have peaceful dreams, and he'd thank her for it if he didn't hate her. (Very occasionally, he finds himself liking her almost enough to express his gratitude, but so far he's resisted temptation.) He didn't realise how tight the knot in his chest had gotten, how much worry he was carrying on a daily basis, till the first time Geralt got hurt badly enough to be scary again and Yennefer put him back together with a few words and a handful of herbs.
On the mountain, he sleeps soundly and dreams sweetly, despite the fact this is a literal dragon hunt, and despite the way he bared his heart to Geralt only to see him go straight back to the witch. He's frankly a bit annoyed that his brain betrayed him by giving him good dreams because of Yennefer, today of all days. For fuck's sake. He's sad, damnit.
Still, in spite of that treachery, and the way no one thought to wake him this morning (he knows full well he's neither use nor ornament on a dragon hunt, he's not stupid, but still, rude; he wanted to watch!), he does feel better for a restful night. He hurries to catch up on the story, since (as evidenced by the groaning dwarves and the dead bodies, not to mention Borch and his warriors not being dead) he clearly missed a lot.
He hangs back as Geralt and Yennefer talk with Borch, not wanting to intrude on their conversation, and is an unwilling witness to Borch's revelations and the ensuing argument over the djinn wish.
Fuck. It explains a lot about their relationship that they're bound together unnaturally by magic, and a djinn's magic at that. Djinns aren't exactly known for granting wishes in happy ways. Tying two people together but doing nothing to make them compatible or happy sounds about right. Maybe now they know, they can do something about it. (Like, say, avoiding each other for the rest of their lives; not that he has a preference, it just seems wise.)
Finally, Yen leaves; Jaskier should probably feel triumphant, but mostly he just feels sad again. There's an unwanted but irresistible pang of sympathy in his chest.
Geralt can be so fucking stupid. Falling in love for real with the woman he bound to himself but neglecting to tell her about the mystical bond? Gods, Jaskier loves Geralt dearly, he does, but what a fucking idiot. His heart is too soft to hold on to his animosity in this moment. Now Yen's no longer part of their lives (Jaskier sincerely hopes - okay, he feels sorry for her, no one said he likes her), he can let himself empathise in ways he's steadfastly avoided till now.
Hating her has gotten exhausting, it's almost a relief to just... let it go. To silently wish her well, even if he also wishes never to see her again. Maybe their lives will go back to what they used to be. Maybe Jaskier can finally figure out how to be enough. Or maybe they'll go claim Geralt's child surprise, as they undoubtedly should have years ago. He can at least hope that things will become less complicated without Yen ripping through their lives like a hurricane.
His hope lasts less than a minute, till Geralt starts unloading two decades of bitterness on his head and his world turns upside down and inside out. He wants to believe it's a dream, that the venom spilling from Geralt's mouth is just his own worst fears lurking in his mind. But he's woken from enough vivid dreams to be too aware of reality, of the stones under his feet and the wind whipping his hair back from his forehead as Geralt shows him all his doubts and insecurities are true, actually, that he's been fooling himself for two decades thinking Geralt cared for him, deep down. That he is, in fact, a burden.
He wants to find his hatred again, to blame Yen for her part in this, but that isn't fair. This isn't her fault or her influence. Nothing so easy.
This it all Geralt, who's apparently been holding back for years, who it turns out considers all the bad things in his life to be Jaskier's fault and has just been putting up with him all this time. Who in a few short sentences hits every tender, vulnerable, fragile spot Jaskier possesses.
Geralt, who would consider it a blessing for Jaskier to be taken from his side.
Jaskier searches Geralt's face for anything other than anger, anything at all, and finds nothing. He thought he knew heartbreak, but this is cracking him down the middle in a way he isn't sure he's able to weather.
Fuck. Jaskier loves Geralt, and he always thought it was, well... maybe not mutual, but not not mutual. He thought they were friends. He thought Geralt cared... gods, he has been a fool.
Okay. Geralt truly hates him. Great. Good. Fine.
"I'll... I'll go get the rest of the story from the others." He will not cry. He will not cry. "See you around, Geralt," he manages, knowing full well that he won't.
Then he turns and walks away.
~ fin ~