Do it Again

Geralt stays up on the mountain for a long time, long after the sound of Jaskier's retreating footsteps fades into the distance. Once the fist of anger and sorrow unclenches from around his chest, he's only left with numbness. Shame.

When he hears someone approaching, twigs snapping underfoot, hope surges through him. He turns, only to find Borch standing before him.

"What now?" Geralt spits out. "Going to tell me that Yennefer despises me? That Jaskier is never going to speak to me again either?"

"No. I'm going to give you a chance to try again," Borch says with a sympathetic smile. "Don't waste the opportunity, Geralt of Rivia. I told you if you came with me, I'd show you what you're missing."

Geralt clenches his teeth. "What the hell does that--"

Darkness. Geralt's eyes open to a familiar room. He jerks up and looks around, takes in the bed, the small table to the side, the room divider between the living space and the bath. It's the room Borch had paid for before the night of the hunt but why is he--

I'm going to give you the chance to try again.

That fucking bastard, Geralt thinks with rising panic. Curses like these are rare and stupid and a waste of everyone's fucking time.

Maybe he's wrong. Maybe it's another kind of curse entirely. If this really is a time loop, he should be able to recall what happens next.

As if answering the unspoken question, a knock sounds on the door followed by Jaskier's voice. "Rise and shine, Geralt. What a beautiful day to slay a dragon."

Geralt dresses quickly and pushes past Jaskier to hunt down Borch. When he finds him outside the inn, Geralt stalks over to him and hisses, "You're the golden dragon, I already know. And you cursed me with a fucking time loop ."

"I remember," Borch replies calmly. "And I'll remember that fact each time you start over, but it is all I'll be able to recall."

"How do I break the spell?" Geralt grits out.

"That I cannot say. But the spell would not have worked on you if there wasn't an opportunity to fix a grave misstep."

"Can't say or won't?"

"Can't."

He's about to snap at Borch when he realizes that this might not be all bad. At least he has the chance to relive this day without fucking things up so badly with Yennefer and Jaskier. It's the obvious solution, so he clamps his mouth shut and figures he can have this whole thing done and dusted within a few tries.

Each time the bugle sounds as they make their way up the mountain, the sun bright overhead, he feels like a tired horse starting its race again.

For the first three loops, Geralt sticks to the very basics. Despite the ache in his gut, he keeps things civil but distant with Yennefer, gives Jaskier strict instructions -- "Don't bait Yennefer, for fuck's sake leave the Zerrikanians alone, don't wander off the path no matter how hungry you get, just stay out of trouble" -- and avoids any conversations about leaving for the coast, about children, djinns, or shoveling horseshit.

The first days feel like a fever dream. No one around him remembers anything. Yennefer and Jaskier are none the wiser. What happened between them all only exists in the memory of Geralt and Borch.

Geralt hates the idea of manipulating interactions to his favor, acting like each day is just a play he has to memorize the lines to. Truth be told, he doesn't even know what he wants from Yennefer. Though part of him longs to have her look at him with a tender gaze again, anger and frustration and guilt rise inside of him too.