These Weary Tears.

High above in the night sky, the moon shone brightly, casting its pale glow down upon the slumbering world below. The forest was filled with the sounds of night. In the shadows crickets chirped and owls hooted softly, watching their nests with piercing yellow gazes. The forest rustled softly as a breeze combed through the treetop boughs. In the gloom, nocturnal beasts stalked about, looking for soft, unsuspecting prey. In the middle of a clearing, Geralt of Rivia was crying. 

The White Wolf was weeping. The embers of a dying fire lay in front of him and Jaskier was laid nearby, fast asleep. Roach wasn't too far away either, being tethered to a tree nearby. Geralt felt weary, his heart heavy with burden. He hated that he was crying, he wished that the tears would stop flowing.  It had been a long day. They had gone from town to town, slaughtering monsters and running from nasty townsfolk. They had not received payment but instead the townsfolk had chased them out, waving pitchforks and uttering threats. To Geralt, that had happened to him many times, but why he began to cry now, he did not know. Now, they both had hardly any coin left and their provisions were beginning to run low. When they finally settled down to make camp, Geralt finally felt a heavy weight on his shoulders that he hadn't known was there. Jaskier had sung during dinner and Geralt kept mostly to himself, trying to ignore the pressing weight. It did not grow any lighter. Eventually, Jaskier retired, yawning loudly and complaining at how much he wanted a bath.  Geralt stayed up, staring into the flames. And, without warning he burst into tears, shoulders shaking. He was tired. Tired of it all. He'd ignored his emotions long enough and now they burst through, bubbling up and boiling over. 

"Geralt?" 

Geralt whipped around in surprise to see Jaskier rubbing his sleep-heavy eyes free of sand. 

"Jaskier," Geralt hissed, his voice ragged and harsh. 

They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. "Geralt?" Jaskier grunted, still tired. "What's wrong?"

Geralt did not answer his companion but turned back to the fire. Jaskier got up and sat beside the witcher. The bard placed a warm hand on Geralt's shoulder. It felt...nice. Geralt turned away, but made no effort to move Jaskier's hand. 

"You don't have to tell me," Jaskier began. 

"Jaskier, I just-" Geralt began. Words got stuck in his throat and he couldn't find anything to say.

"Come here," Jaskier said and pulled Geralt up. He pulled the witcher towards his bedroll. "Come," 

Geralt wordlessly followed his bard. The bard lay down and motioned for Geralt to follow. The witcher bit his tongue and laid down beside Jaskier. Jaskier reached up and brushed a stray silver lock of hair out of Geralt's face and the witcher's stomach did a small flip. 

"What troubles you?" Jaskier asked, his voice soft and steady. 

"I-" Geralt began and sighed heavily. "I am tired. Of this. All this running and hunting and fighting, I hate it."

Jaskier nodded and listened as Geralt spoke of how much hunting they were doing and getting nothing from it, how the nasty people in the towns kept chasing them away and how tired Geralt was of it. 

"I want it to stop," Geralt sighed. 

Jaskier leaned in and kissed the witcher's forehead. "It will be alright in the end," he reassured in his soft voice. "And I'll be here for you, no matter what happens. I promise," 

Geralt sighed and buried his face into Jaskier's chest. He rubbed the bard's hands with his thumb. 

"Thank you," Geralt sighed.

Above them, the stars twinkled away like distant diamonds and the sounds of night continued. Eventually, the witcher and the bard fell asleep in each others arms, content and safe. 

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The End. Let me know what you thought! :D