☜ The Witcher Imagines ☞

Imagine Geralt comes home to pay respects

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Jaskier couldn't tell if Geralt was being his normal self or if something had happened. However, one thing was the defining factor to deciding whether the Witcher was finally having his annual existential crisis.

The man couldn't sleep if something plagued his mind. As the days of travel grew longer so did the bruises under Geralt's eyes become darker.

"Would you happen to be able to shed some light onto our travels?-" Jaskier finally sighed in exhaustion, "- Will it be one of the many monsters we have already encountered? A beautiful damsel calling for our aid? A queen offering land for that sword yours" he proceeded to watch Geralt's shoulders roll back in frustration.

"No" the Witcher monotonously replied.

"Then what has us in the middle of nowhere?".

The Witcher didn't answer this time round, leaving the bard beyond confused unable to pluck at his lute as his legs felt broken. This length of walking would eventually send the man six-feet under but -as always- the Witcher refused to care, especially as a small wooden home came into view.

It was quaint in its simplicity and gave Jaskier the impression of a farmer's family being nearby. But no horse sat in the stable, no cattle in the pen and not a candle flickered as dusk approached. However, Geralt of Rivia appeared at home as the tension in his body was replaced with something respectful yet melancholy.

Geralt had dropped from Roach with a eery silence that even forced the bard to be unnaturally quiet. This was especially so when flowers supernaturally preserved were pulled from his bag. They were lilies, simple in colour but elegant in structure.

"Wait here" the Witcher softly demanded with his voice deep and solemn. It was a call of respect for Jaskier that was met with the horse's reigns dropped in his hands.

Geralt was reluctant to return, but after hearing bandits were nearby he didn't want any of your belongings to be stolen from the only place he called home. There was the blue dress you wore when you first met, still baring the ale stain at the hem, the one he caused.

The red one was bought the most recent to your marriage, he recalled you saying it was to make you look strong, a Witcher's wife couldn't be weak. But all he wanted was for you to be safe (even if you reminded him constantly of the hunting you did while he was away).

Yellow... you died in that one. There was no blood stain, no vomit on the colour or sweat staining the fabric. There was only a simple trickle of black that travelled in spots down the bodice.

Humans could be cruel creatures.

Unlike what Jaskier expected, Geralt travelled around the back of the house and into the meadow you once frequented. When the house made you claustrophobic and became stuffy, the Witcher normally found you making a fire, cooking game and laying under the stars.

"I worked hard to make that house" he chuckled as he approached you, your hair tied like a puzzle of rope as you feasted on the small rabbit you'd caught.

"We both know building isn't your speciality" you joked before he finally sat beside you (not without draping a blanket over your shoulders).

"You could appreciate the effort" he nudged.

"It is!... it's where we sleep is it not?".

Geralt shook his head. He knew you spoke the truth but he also knew you would much rather go back to the old days, when your dresses were traded in for your armour and there was always time for hunting: monsters and game.

You at last rested your head against his shoulder. It had been a long day of waiting until you finally decided to free yourself from that box.

"You were gone for too long" you finally sighed.

The Witcher knew his work took the time too fast for him to measure it. Yet he still found you in his arms toward the end of it all.

"I won't be next time. It will be over and then... then I can stay".

He reached your headstone as the memory cleared out into reality. The flowers grew as promised and surrounded your burial ground, the object which marked your name was protected and unstained, he made sure it wouldn't be damaged (much like his memory of you).

"You couldn't just wait up could... you", Jaskier entered the meadow at too intimate a moment to take it back. It was only at the last second did he see such a far away, fogged over look against Geralt's cat-like eyes and the tombstone a metre from his feet.

The bard slowly approached as if Geralt was a predator and took a peek from behind his bicep to see the stone and the script written upon it.

"Oh, Geralt. I'm sorry".

But the Witcher wasn't listening, he was back in the memories, back before he stopped measuring time, back before you were an invisible ghost trying to comfort the one you left behind.

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