Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, (here)
Read it on Ao3 HERE
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Geralt didn’t even make it a day.
He left Oxenfurt behind at dawn, riding Roach, alone, just like he always was. There was water here, a river, and trees. They were willow trees, weeping over the sludgy river, bending to sweep the water and Geralt thought of Jaskier’s mother, of the flash of an opal ring on Jaskier’s hand. The Pontar was wide and slow here, and Geralt thought of a hidden pool, far in a forest, and Jaskier talking about his mother.
Maybe he wasn’t half dryad, maybe he was. Maybe it wouldn’t mean anything but…but what if his life was longer than a human’s? Geralt didn’t want to have to lose him anytime soon, but what if he wouldn’t have to?
Geralt realized he’d already lost Jaskier. He’d betrayed his husband’s trust, kissing a witch and leaving him. He was still injured. Melitele’s tits, Geralt was an asshole. He’d hurt Jaskier. On purpose.
A clean break, what the hell was he thinking? They were married, there was no ‘clean break’. They’d have to see eachother eventually. He’d look into beautiful eyes and they’d be full of hatred. He’d see his husbands solid frame and watch the posture become closed and standoffish. Perhaps Jaskier’s words would even turn cold. Toss A Coin would never be heard in taverns again, instead something else. Witchers Are Selfish Bastards could become the next hit.
He couldn’t protect Jaskier though. The doublet was just that, a doublet. It was a pretty thing, not armor. Geralt could wrap the entire bard in basilisk leather and he still might never be safe.
But at least you’d be there to fight for him, whispered a treacherous part of Geralt’s mind. He spurred Roach faster, as if he could outrun the thought.
What if there was a barfight? Sure, Jaskier could take care of himself, but if there were no knives around? No weapons? What if he got jumped in an alleyway, or fell ill and he was too sick to find a healer?
Surely having Geralt there was better than nothing.
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