Silver Tongue - The Witcher | Geralt of Rivia

XIV

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Despite what many people might think of him, Jaskier wasn't stupid. Sure he loved women and wine as much as he did himself and his lute, but his vanity didn't hinder him in seeing the obvious.

After having almost been killed by a kelpie earlier that same day, because his two friends kept arguing about only god knows what, Jaskier wasn't in doubt that this morning's argument was the same reason why they weren't speaking now either.

Surely they'd joined forces and worked together to kill the creature and save their friend as per usual, but the way Myrcella kept avoiding Geralt's eyes, and the dead silence between them, had Jaskier worried. Not to mention the fact that Myrcella had left pretty quickly after they'd slain the monster, and didn't show up again until late noon.

"Where have you been and why aren't you and Geralt speaking?" Myrcella shot Jaskier a pointed look as he opened his mouth as soon as she'd closed the door to her room behind her. "–don't give me that look. It's not like the two of you were hiding it very well."

"I don't feel like discussing this." Was the only thing she said as she began removing her armor before throwing herself on the bed tiredly and sore. "And to think I went to you believing it was the easier option.." Jaskier sighed.
"Nothing is the easier option when the choice is between Geralt and I." Myrcella said flatly, and she was right. They were both extremely difficult in their own way. None of which were very pleasant.

"I don't know what he said that has your undergarments in such a twist, but you've got to figure it out before we go to the next city and take a contract for a monster that'll actually kill me." Jaskier tried to reason as he watched the woman laying on the bed, trying his hardest to form a real sentence as his attention was stolen by her captivating presence. "It won't be a problem because I won't be going to the next city with you." Myrcella sat up in the bed, avoiding the concerned eyes of her friend.

"I'm sorry what?"

Myrcella almost cringed at the lump forming in her throat. She hated confrontation and conflict. And like she'd done so many times before, she ran. "I'm leaving Jaskier." The bard looked at her with disappointment and hurt. But neither of those feelings were for himself. Jaskier felt hurt and disappointed on Geralt's behalf, and maybe even a bit betrayed. "—I got that part, but why? You can't just leave Geralt. He needs you."

Myrcella sighed, still looking at the ground as she admitted the truth. "He doesn't. And he made that very clear back in Cintra." The look on the bards face was pure shock and horror. "Y-You heard that?" Now his ship had definitely sunken, and as the captain, he'd gone down with it.

"Of course I heard that! I was in the room right next door! How could I not've!?" Myrcella raised her voice a bit. It was very clear that she'd been hurt by the words exchanged between her two companions and yet decided to keep it hidden as to not create conflict. "But why? There must be some other solution?" Jaskier pleaded desperately. He didn't really have many friends, and he feared that if Myrcella ran, the last friend he had left would leave him too.

"It's for the best Jaskier. I'm afraid I might lose him if I don't." Myrcella wanted to say more, to explain to Jaskier how being near her affected Geralt more so than she'd originally thought it would, and being around him affected her more than she'd originally thought. That she was unable to control herself when she was this weak, and that it would be against the Witcher code for Geralt to let her feed on humans and get stronger. Myrcella wanted him to know that she wasn't leaving because she feared facing off against a Witcher.
She was leaving because she didn't want to make Geralt choose between his beliefs and duty, and her nature.

Myrcella had corrupted Geralt, crept into his mind without either of them realising that he was slowly becoming more and more addicted to her, lured in and captured, ready for butchering if that was what she pleased. The monster-slayer had fallen straight into the beautiful trap of his prey, and she felt guilty.

"I'm killing him Jaskier, and he doesn't even realise it."

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Myrcella had only packed the bare necessities before leaving, afraid that Geralt would walk in on her and try to talk her out of it if she took to long. Amongst the few things she'd stupidly left behind, unfortunately, were her map and her compass.
And since she had no idea where the nearest town was, Myrcella ended up seeking shelter in a stone cavern as the sun began to set and it became too dark for it to be safe to continue riding.

That first night alone was cold and dark. She'd never been by herself, and the empty feeling she felt, as she laid down on the stone floor using her cape as a pillow, was ever expanding, till her mind finally rested and she fell asleep. Though deep down, even unconsciously, she knew that the thing that was missing was the warm breath and slow heartbeat of another person laying beside her as she travelled into the realm of dreams.

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Myrcella awoke to the sound of a rippling brook and the orange and soft sunlight of the sunrise tickling her face. Slowly she opened her eyes, only to realise that she was fully submerged in water, and that sunbeams had been reaching her through the glistening brook's surface. Myrcella felt heavy and struggled to move her limbs and swim to the surface. It wasn't deep, but she felt as if the more she struggled, the further away she sunk. It was only when the fabric of her dress flowed in the water in front of her face that she realised she was wearing one of her old gowns.

A calm settled inside of Myrcella as she stopped fighting the fabric of her dress, and let the slow current carry her downstream. She suddenly wasn't afraid to drown, and though her head felt as if it was about to explode as she struggled to hold her breath any longer, she showed no signs of distress.
Myrcella calmly breathed in water and let it burn as it entered her lungs. It was futile to fight the inevitable. It was then she realised, she wasn't afraid to die.

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Geralt stormed into the room he and Myrcella shared. His yellow eyes blazing with fury. "Where is she!" His voice boomed as he saw Jaskier bound to a wooden chair with a gag in his mouth. The different possibilities of what'd happened sifted through his brain and the anger soon turned to fear and worry.

Jaskier tried to say something, but the gag over his mouth, muffled his voice and made the words close to impossible to understand.

Geralt ripped the gag off of the poor bard and Jaskier uncomfortably spat out the piece of fabric that had been stuck inside his mouth. "I-I tried to stop her." He said.

The Witcher who'd begun to untie his friend halted his every move as the words registered. Had Myrcella not been kidnapped? He couldn't quite wrap his head around the situation. "What happened Jaskier?"

"She ran."

"Fuck."

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