This is not Roach the 27th
Jaskier had been traveling with Geralt for almost a decade when he finally noticed that there was something off about Roach.
He'd never spared Geralt's horse much thought, though. As long as she did her job and didn't step on his foot too often, Jaskier couldn't care less about the horse.
Geralt, however, did care about his horse. When they stopped for the night, he took care of her before he did anything else. When he thought that Jaskier was out of earshot, Geralt liked to talk to Roach and sometimes her neighing and snorting did sound as if she was answering him. In those moments Jaskier made sure to give the witcher some privacy. He didn't even want to think about how long his horse had been Geralt's only companion.
So it did make sense that Geralt gave every horse the same name and that he went for the same breed and color. Jaskier should have wondered where he found a look-alike horse whenever he needed one because he doubted that a witcher's horse had that long of a lifespan. Not that he'd ever personally witnessed one of the horses' death, thank the gods for small mercies.
Things clicked together when one evening Geralt told him about one of his very first hunts. Jaskier didn't know what got him talking, they had just set up camp on a clearing after a day of uneventful traveling but for whatever reason, staring into the flames of their campfire made Geralt talk. Not that Jaskier was complaining, getting anything out of the witcher was a pain in the ass on a good day so if he was offering for once …
"Would have died that day." A rare smile ghosted over the witcher's lips. "Roach distracted it long enough for me to kill it. Got her hind leg mauled but she still carried me out."
Jaskier listened to Geralt as he talked fondly about how he'd nursed his horse back to health. After his own recovery from almost dying from blood loss and poison. It had been a close call for both of them.
It had taken a month before they had been able to travel again. And another one before Geralt could ride her.
"She still doesn't like it when the weather changes." He glanced over to where the horse was dozing.
They turned in not much later and Geralt's breathing evened out rather quickly but Jaskier was lying there with his hands folded under his head, gazing up to the stars. It was rare that the witcher spoke about his past, at least to anybody aside from Roach, and Jaskier treasured every word, playing them in his head over and over again.
But then Jaskier realized something. Geralt had talked about one of his very first hunts. Jaskier didn't know how old Geralt was exactly but that hunt must have been decades ago. No way had he been talking about his current horse.
"Can't be," Jaskier mumbled to himself. This Roach must be Roach the 27th or something like that. Even under best circumstances horses did not live that long.
However, thinking about it Jaskier remembered the days when Geralt would rather walk and lead Roach by the rains. Or didn't travel at all for a day or two.
Jaskier had joked that he was getting old when Geralt had said something about the weather changing and the cold creeping into the bones. Now he wondered if Geralt talked about himself or rather about his horse.
Jaskier tried to put off the thoughts and maybe ask Geralt in the morning but he only managed to stay in his bedroll for another minute or so before he got up as quietly as possible and walked over to where Roach was standing. The horse greeted him with a low neigh.
"Shh," Jaskier made, keeping an eye on Geralt's still form by the fire. "I just need to check something real quick."
He scratched Roach's neck before he let his fingertips trail along her flank to her hind leg. He didn't expect to find anything, not really because that would be insane. This was not the Roach Geralt had talked about but then his fingertips bumped over the ridges of old scars.
"What the fuck?" Jaskier wondered louder than intended. Loud enough to wake the witcher.
"Jaskier?" Geralt rolled to his other side, facing him. His eyes were scanning the area, searching for whatever had spooked Jaskier. "What's going on?"
"This." His voice toppled over. "Is not Roach the 27th."
"What?" Geralt propped himself up on one elbow.
"You told me that you name every horse Roach but you lied, didn't you? This," he jabbed his finger in Roach's direction, "is the horse you told me about earlier."
Geralt didn't deny it, he just let out a sigh and came up to a sitting position. Then he was just sitting there, looking miserable for some reason. Jaskier felt uncomfortable just looking at him. And the silence drawing out for too long didn't help to lighten the mood.
"How is this the same horse?" Jaskier crouched down next to him, his voice calmer now.
"I made a wish." Geralt didn't look him in the eye. He kept his gaze on his hands in his lap and if Jaskier didn't know better he would say that the witcher was embarrassed. Which would be a first.
"A wish?" Jaskier finally processed what the witcher had just said. "Like with a djinn?"
Jaskier had some vivid memories of their last encounter with a djinn. Had some vivid nightmares too.
"Yes," Geralt growled but didn't explain farther.
It took some coaxing but eventually, Jaskier got the story out of him. Not long after the incident that had almost killed him and Roach, Geralt had found a djinn.
"I wished for Roach to stay with me," Geralt admitted with his jaw set as if he expected Jaskier to laugh at him. When he didn't, Geralt added: "She hasn't aged a day since then. Heals quicker too."
"But she still doesn't like it when the weather changes." Jaskier nodded in understanding.
Geralt gave him a look, his golden eyes hard to read but that wasn't necessary. His whole posture was tense and he was clenching his jaw, it was palpable how uncomfortable he was with this topic.
Witchers weren't meant to be soft. They were meant to be cold-blooded killers, barely better than the things they killed. They were not meant to have emotions, they were not meant to care for anybody or anything let alone a stupid horse. Jaskier got that but he also knew that Geralt was not what the people wanted to see in him. He was not cold-hearted. He cared for people, too much often.
That he'd wished for his horse to stay with him was so sweet and so sad and so much Geralt, it made Jaskier blink against the tears welling up in his eyes. He was just glad that Geralt had returned to staring into the smoldering remains of their fire and didn't catch Jaskier choking on emotions.
"What did you do with your other two wishes?" Jaskier asked just to change the topic.
"Didn't need anything else so I used the second one to free the djinn."
"Why am I not surprised?" Jaskier chuckled at that. "Only you would not only waste one wish to free a djinn but let the third one go to waste as well. You could have asked for fame and fortune. Or would that be two wishes? Well, you already had fame, not the good kind of fame, I might add, but you were already famous, so you should have asked for fortune. Some nice company for the night. Hell, even a good meal or an ale. Anything." Jaskier threw his hands up at the wasted opportunity.
"I still have it," Geralt said.
"I'm not following, you still have what?" Jaskier blinked at him, still running all the possible wishes in his mind.
"The third wish," Geralt clarified. "The djinn was grateful for his freedom, he promised to grant me that third wish. Just have to call for him." Geralt stretched out again, clearly done with the conversation. "Can we go back to sleep now?"
"I just found out that your horse is immortal and that you have a djinn's wish up your sleeve how can I possibly go back to sleep now?"
"Jaskier." Geralt had turned his back to him. "Shut up and go to sleep."
Grumbling under his breath Jaskier laid back down as well but he didn't expect to fall asleep any time soon. His thoughts were circling around immortal horses and djinns and naturally, they turned to his own encounter with a djinn. He could still hear Geralt's voice, telling him that he wouldn't let him die. Now Jaskier couldn't help but wonder if Geralt would have used his last wish to save him. Would that have been his last resort if mages and evil witches hadn't been able to save his life? Or would he had let Jaskier die?
That question kept him awake half the night but he didn't dare to ask it in the morning. So they just packed up and were on their way again.
Geralt was back to his old silent self. Apparently, he'd used up his words for at least a day or two, and they continued their journey in comfortable silence. Jaskier did see Roach with different eyes now but otherwise, things continued as normal.
They were earning coin with hunting and singing, sometimes they had to curl up and lick their wounds, sometimes they had to leave a village in a hurry with stones hurled at their backs. Jaskier wrote songs about their most memorable adventures. And he made sure to mention Roach, the witcher's loyal horse, more often now.
Then they went hunting a dragon. Which had been a bad idea from the beginning, Geralt had said so himself but then Yennefer had shown up and things had gone downhill from there.
Jaskier got a front-row seat to Yennefer lashing out on Geralt. Who in return lashed out on Jaskier.
"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands," Geralt yelled at him, throwing up his hands in frustration.
The words hurt, they did but Jaskier knew two things: One, Geralt didn't mean it. The words were spoken in the heat of the moment, fueled by blind anger and most likely regretted in a few minutes.
And two, Geralt didn't have a wish left. So even if he truly wished for Jaskier to be taken off his hands, which he didn't, it wouldn't change a damn thing. Jaskier would stay.
Because there had been another hunt. It had gone badly. Jaskier's intestines on the floor badly. They had been in the middle of nowhere when that thing had jumped them. Geralt had killed it quickly but not quickly enough.
There wouldn't be a healer or mage this time, they both had known that. Jaskier had been bleeding out in Geralt's arms.
Geralt had muttered stupid things to him and Jaskier had tried to assure him that it was okay when the witcher suddenly had called out for the djinn.
Jaskier knew that Geralt didn't really wish for him to be taken off his hands now because back then, when he'd been dying in Geralt's arms, the last thing he'd heard when he'd closed his eyes for what he'd thought would be the last time had been: "I wish for him to stay with me."