Meet Me In Posada

Chapter 6

Dressed in a soft shirt and dark brown pants, Geralt sits at the rickety wooden table and stares daggers into his cup of tea. It's wrong, this life that Jaskier claims they have. A quaint little cottage, sprawling fields of fat purple grapes, the painted vase of daisies on the table, crocheted fucking doilies on the arms of the sofa. It's like he just up and left one day and started living life like a normal person. Ridiculous. This isn't what a Witcher does.

"So," Geralt says, not looking up from his tea, "You're my soulmate."

"I am," Jaskier confirms.

"And we're married."

"Have been for thirty years now."

"But you're..."

"A man?"

No, he thinks. Beautiful.

"So...soft," Geralt decides eventually. With round cheeks and wide blue eyes, perfectly manicured hair and nails, and a turquoise doublet of embroidered silk, the man in front of him doesn't look like he has any business even being near a witcher, much less married to one.

A light pink blush seeps into Jaskier's cheeks. "Well, I do admit I've gotten a tad soft since settling down here, but I assure you, darling, I was more than capable of following you on the path then and I still am now. I'm stronger than I look."

Hm. That he is, Geralt thinks, recalling the strength that the bard used to pin him on the ground. Still though, he has a hard time believing without someone like Jaskier would be the other half that the universe picked out for him. Geralt had always expected someone...harsher.

"Anyway," Jaskier continues, "You've always needed a little more softness in your life. Now that we're retired, I have all the excuses in the world to pamper you."

Geralt disagrees. Softness isn't something that's meant for witchers. Neither is retirement. Witcher's don't retire.

"Well, you do," Jaskier responds when Geralt makes his thoughts on this known.

"No," Geralt says firmly. "I don't. A Witcher doesn't retire. We get slow and we die. We don't sit around playing house and pretending we're something we're not."

"Oh you haven't given up the trade entirely," Jaskier confirms. "You'll take a few local contracts here and there, sometimes you team up with Eskel or Lambert for a larger one. But mostly you stay here. With me. And my version of you seems quite content with that."

Geralt doesn't think a world exists in which he would ever be content with that, but he doesn't say it out loud. Still, there's a sad sort of look in Jaskier's eyes that tells him he doesn't have to.

"You always find plenty to keep yourself busy here anyway," Jaskier continues. "You chop wood for the fire, go hunting, help repair things around the vineyard-- and of course you have all the time in the world to dote on Roach."

Geralt perks up a bit. "Roach is here?"

"She is-- er-- Roach number seven is anyway. I believe she's the one you'll have after your current Roach. There's also mama Roach and baby Roach. She had a foal with Scorpion last summer after Eskel visited. They're all in the stable out back, along with Pegasus. We can go visit later if you like."

"Hm."

A smile tugs at Jaskier's lips. "Oh yes, I'd almost forgotten that used to be your primary form of communication," he says fondly.

"I--"

"Don't worry about it, darling. I learned how to decipher your grunts and growls years ago. I believe that one is something along the lines of; you're pleased Roach is here, but you feel conflicted at everything involving me. Am I right?"