His Bard, Eternal

            It had been five months since he had found Ciri alone in the woods, three since they had reached Kaer Morhen. Geralt had entrusted Ciri to his own former master, Vesemir. He still had one job to complete before returning to stay through the winter. The two of them had passed through a small, forested hamlet. The villagers had begged of him to get rid of the heinous beast that had been lurking in the old cemetery just left of the village. Geralt knew what it was as soon as they described it. The creature had been digging up the fresh graves of a small family who had died of the pox. It feasted on them and on anyone who tried to go near it in an attempt to slay it. The villagers said they could hear the wails of the would-be heroes as they were eaten alive. It was a necrophage, specifically a graveir.

He knew he had to get Ciri to the safety of Kaer Morhen before setting off to do anything else. So, he had promised them he'd come right after taking the girl to his home. The villagers accepted this and would make sure no one was to go near the cemetery before the witcher's return. He was now back on his way to the village astride Roach to rid them of their hungry pest. It was still early in the day and the graveir would not rear its ugly head until dusk broke. The inn of the small town looked decent enough and he had been on the road for a few hours. He wanted something to eat, perhaps have an ale or two as well, and to give Roach a rest. He guided her into the stable attached to the inn and dismounted. Digging into his pack, he precured a for her a few sugar cubes which she gobbled up happily. "See you again later Roach," he said before giving her a pat on her flank. And with that he entered the inn in want of a peaceful meal before taking on the beast later, that would be much less peaceful. He had not yet reached the bar to order before hearing "Oh, its you," in a painfully familiar voice. The gods had decided Geralt of Rivia would find no peace on this day.

He turned to see Jaskier with the most pitiful look on one's face he had ever seen. For a moment he pondered as to why Jaskier looked so hurt and distraught. Perhaps that Valdo Marx had gotten under his skin again. But when all Jaskier did was turn away and walk to an empty table in the corner, Geralt suddenly remembered the last time he had been with the bard and what he had said. Jaskier sat down refusing to look anywhere except for out the window next to him.

It pained Geralt greatly. He felt a pang of regret and guilt creep into the pit of his stomach. He hadn't meant the cruel words he had venomously spat at Jaskier atop the mountain. And like Jaskier had replied, it wasn't fair. Cautiously, he moved towards Jaskier as if one wrong move would upset the bard further. Jaskier id not turn his gaze from the window as Geralt sat down at the table with him.

Even though he would never let it show, he had deeply enjoyed Jaskier's company the last twenty years since meeting him at Posada. He had been the only person who didn't reek of fear in Geralt's presence. The bard had always smelled of contented and of a blossoming meadow in the spring after a rain. Geralt had to stop his thoughts from continuing for a moment to focus on the fact that maybe he enjoyed the bard's scent a bit too precisely for his own comfort. Even now he caught himself inhaling the stale bar air to pick up on Jaskier. He also smelled the scent of salty tears before looking to see them cascading down in rivets along flushed cheeks. That pang in his stomach grew tenfold.

They remained in painful silence until Jaskier finally turned to look at him. Of course, he would be the first one to speak. "Why are you sitting here witcher? You said you no longer want my presence anywhere near you." He said sternly, voice not breaking despite his display of raw emotions. Geralt just kept his eyes locked on the slighter man's hoping he could simply read his thoughts. He had never been good with formulating his words. That had been further proved on the mountain with Yennefer. The thought of her still stung Geralt a bit, but he felt like the whole swarm when it came to Jaskier in this moment.