Try, Please Try For Me

For You, Dearheart

"He is recovering quickly," Aspenfroth says, nodding to Jaskier from where she leans on the doorframe. "Not many are as lucky as he is. An encounter with ash is often deadly."

"Hmmm." Geralt's gaze follows to where Jaskier is sitting on the balcony with Twillthistle, focused intently on what the insect-like fae is telling him.

He is recovering quickly, and to Geralt's relief, that includes both his physical wounds and mental strain. The bard is happier, he's smiling again, laughing even, and seeing him return to his regular self, sets Geralt at ease almost as much as his physical recovery.

Twillthistle is teaching him how to shift. Apparently once he's able to do that it means the ash is entirely out of his system.

"I imagine that his mortal blood helped keep the ash from consuming him before you found us," the fae continues. "You saved him."

Over on the balcony Jaskier smiles at something Twillthistle tells him, and the sight once again fills Geralt's chest with warmth.

"I wasn't going to just let him die," Geralt says.

Aspenfroth hums, and traces a long finger down the edge of the doorframe. "Many of your kind would. It is unusual for a human to have such a connection with one of our own. Not unless they are bound to repay a debt."

Geralt raises an eyebrow, studying her face. "If you're trying to ask me something, just say it."

The fae shrugs. "I am merely observing your connection. A witcher such as yourself is familiar with danger. I imagine that entails many things. A life for a life perhaps?"

"I am not indebted to him," Geralt says. "He's my friend. I helped him because I care about him." It's true, at least partially. Geralt does care about Jaskier, and the bard is his friend. But he also means so much more than that.

"So you return his sentiment?"

Geralt's eyes narrow. "What do you mean?"

"He thinks of you as his mate." Aspenfroth pulls her gaze away from Jaskier, and turns to look at Geralt. Her eyes fall on the lock of hair that had been carefully knotted by Jaskier that morning.

"We're married," Geralt replies bluntly.

"It is more than that," Aspenfroth says. "Humans could never understand how deeply a bond between fae reaches. You can feel it, can you not?"

"I..."

Is that what this is? In his long life, Geralt has never gotten close to people. Only his brothers, and Yen for a time, but neither quite felt the same as what he feels for Jaskier. Just being in the bard's presence makes him feel alive in a way that he's never experienced before. Jaskier feels like the comfort of a warm blanket when snow is falling outside. Like the overwhelming feeling of relief that Geralt gets when he finally sets foot in Kaer Morhen after a year on the path. Jaskier feels like home.

Geralt frowns suddenly, and eyes the fae in front of him. "What do you want from me?"

"That depends on your answer," Aspenfroth replies.

"I...may feel something," Geralt admits.

"You love him."

The statement sounds like an accusation, and it hits Geralt like a blow to the chest.

That can't be true. Witchers are not supposed to love. They don't. Not like this.

And yet...

Geralt looks over to Jaskier, the man who shines so bright he could put the sun to shame. Who looks at Geralt and sees him for who he is, not what he is. Jaskier, who fills Geralt with a renewed sense of awe every day that he's with him.