Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters. Those are property of Mr Sapkowski and I using Netflix series canon.
Warning : this fic contains references of suicidal thoughts and alcoholism.
Jaskier is bi or pan but again this is because I feel him like in love with his muses no matter the genre. This is geraskier. I always write on a platonic side but with a kind of romantic way, because I use the muses. You can read it as more than this if you want and feel more comfortable with it this way.
Last thing, English isn't my first language so I apologise in advance for any mistake or bad formulation.
Endless pain
The first stab were the words themself...
If life could give me one blessing... He saw the rage in Geralt's eyes and he felt suddenly numb. He couldn't process everything. It would be to take you off my hands...
Then the pain radiate in his chest. As clear and sharp as a knife would have found its ways to his heart. He looked a few seconds at Geralt's back. He did his best to stay dignified. Geralt had never been tender with him, yet he was patient and had his ways. This time, he really hurt him. Jaskier was a hopeful man by nature. Somewhere in the back of his head he thought that Geralt just spoke out of pain. Normally he would have fought back but right know his own pain was too much. He had to let everything cool down. Right. Then. See you around Geralt. He said, his throat constricted. The witcher didn't move. He didn't reply. The pain was terrible so he just went away.
He knew the sorceress and the witcher had hurt each other pretty badly this time, and there was a good chance that Geralt was just only mad at him for being too joyful when he was hurt. Of course, trying to reach him in this painful moment was a bit clumsy, but he'd always been there for him when they ripped their heart open. Always. Maybe Geralt needed just some time alone to process. Surely, he did. This was the only thought that could make all of this kinda tolerable.
Jaskier stumbled his way up to the cave in the mouth of which he left his lute. His mind almost blanked. He couldn't accept the words that ripped him open, so he did as nothing happened. Well as much as he could... He asked Borch about the fight and he promised him to tell nothing about the egg in his future song. The song... Did he really want to sing about that ? Well he had to pretend. Geralt would come back and his words would mean nothing. The pain would go and they would travel back together once more. He would help him overcome Yennefer's heartbreak, as he always do. And... no there was nothing more. He just had to be patient.
He waited a bit, sat on a rock, watching the horizon. The dwarves had already left and as much as it'd been in the whole trek, he was aside. Then he watched the two warrior ladies piling the dead bodies of the ravers but soon his aversion for gore just reached a picking point and he politely left. He couldn't be of any help there.
How long had it been. Half an hour? One hour? He slowly returned to the pick of rock where Geralt was. He didn't mean to enter his space. He would wait from afar, he promised himself. But... he didn't anticipated the second stab.
Geralt had left... He had really left. He meant everything he said to the core. It couldn't be true. Jaskier couldn't bear it to be true. On shaking legs, he rushed back to the dwarves camp. No one.
He began to panick. He meant it... No No No... If life could give me one blessing... No ! This couldn't be. I would be to take you off my hands... No! His mind put himself in protecting mode. He denied reality. Because if all of this was true, then his life would mean nothing. The twenty two years he gave to this man meant nothing... That was unthinkable.
He got down the mountain in a blurry state of mind. The pain in his heart was growing and he shunted it. It took him more than three days to reach the starting camp. He remembered vaguely eating berries and drinking water directly from small rivulets on the path. He knew that was not a good idea but it was the best he could do on his own. He was sick by the time he reached his goal, but nothing was more important than finding Geralt to make this nonsense stop.
When he found no-one, that was the blow that destroyed him. His heart just shattered. The pain that he felt was so strong that he knew nothing else. He was no more but that gapping wound bleeding out all the love he had for the White Wolf. Everything was true. His life had meant nothing. For twenty two of his mortal years he meant nothing... Geralt just discarded him on the side of the road like useless tool and everything that he lived was empty.
He found his way back to town but he didn't know how. He reached the first tavern and asked for the strongest alcohol they had. He drank to oblivion.
He woke up sick as hell, on the floor of a room he didn't remember paying. He was naked. He was dirty. But the worst was the pain that was building back up in his chest the more he was regaining consciousness. This was heartbreak. He knew that. He had experienced a few in his life. But none hurt more than this one. He wouldn't survive this. He was sure. Why was he was even still alive to feel it, to begin with ?
He was an empty shell on the floor, cracked open. He turned his head and saw his luth sat against the bed. Then, for the first time in days, he let the tears come and he began to cry. Silently at first but then he could not hold whimpers.
He was just a fool. A fool who made himself believe that he was somehow important to a man he made his muse. Twenty-two years of life... empty... meaningless... His body was now bleeding off every song he ever wrote for his witcher, as they were now like stabs in his shattered heart. If he wanted to live, he had to carry all the words he gave to him like scars. As marks of his stupidity... As marks of his unrequited love... If only he wanted to live...After all, he could exhaust Geralt wish and get off his hands permanently. It would be easier... He curled up onto the floor, desperately sobbing, as the pain reached another pike.
Slowly, the room filled with memories. The White Wolf was everywhere around him, inside of him. Digging his fangs in his heart again and again. He was trembling... He was going to lose his mind. He closed his eyes but he couldn't escape.
I love you He whispered to his ghost memories that would haunt him for the rest of his life.
I am linking all my current fics about Jaskier into a "Muse Saga". There are others to come. I have 2 stories to finish right now.
