A/N: Back again with our favourite trio.
Summary: You and Geralt have an argument, and it takes a certain bard to get the two of you to stop glaring daggers at each other and make up.Ā
JaskierĀ wasnāt accustomed to being caught in the middle of an argument. Being aĀ partĀ of an argument, yes, it was practically his day job, but being stuckĀ in the midst ofĀ one that, quite frankly, had nothing to do with himā¦ no. Never.Ā
Though of course, nobody would haveĀ expectedĀ him to have to grow used to it while in the company he was in. You and Geralt could throw insults at each other all day if either of you were given the chance, but to find cause for an actual disagreement and end up completely ignoring each other?Ā ThatĀ was a rarity.Ā
A rarityĀ JaskierĀ had been all too confused to discover after returning from filling his waterskin up by the river. Heād walked back to the camp, expecting to hear at leastĀ someĀ kind of discussion, but had been entirely bewildered to find an eerie air of tension and silence as soon as he returned. Heād stood there for at least a full minute, completely still, eyes flicking from the brooding Witcher tacking up his horse to the clearly disconcerted teenager sat on a rock at least ten feet away.Ā
It was obvious something had happened. But did he go to the brooding Witcher or the disconcerted teenager?Ā
Oh. Nope.Ā Definitely disconcertedĀ teenager who was nowĀ crying.Ā
Tossing his waterskin on his bedroll, he crossed his arms over his chest and turned right, silently making his way over to you and your rock. You didnāt move as he sat down next to you, simply staying as you were, staring ahead at aā¦ seemingly interesting tree. He could see the tears stubbornly clinging to your lashes above the ones already rolling down your red cheeks, and for a moment he simply sat there with you, heart twinging each time a small sob shook your body or you reached up to rub at your eyes.Ā
āYou know,ā he said quietly after a while, leaning that bit closer toward you, āfor what itās worth, I thinkĀ GeraltāsĀ a dick, too.āĀ
Unfortunately, he didnāt receive the reaction heād intended at that, clearly telling him something was seriously bothering you. Youād always given him at leastĀ something for his humorous comments, whether that be a laugh or a roll of the eyesā¦ not giving a single reaction was almost worrying. No, no, itĀ wasĀ worrying.Ā
His eyes lingered on you for a moment. āWhat happened?ā he asked gently, watching as you glanced down at the fidgeting hands on your lap. āI only went down to the river for a couple minutes.āĀ
You swallowed thickly, a cool breeze abruptly rushing past you and blowing your tears away. āGeraltĀ happened,ā you said to him, voice broken by a sob. Further tears welled in your eyes and you bit your bottom lip, moving your arms up to hug yourself. Pity circledĀ JaskierāsĀ heart, and a moment later you found yourself leaning against his side, one of his arms wrapped around you and holding you comfortingly against him.Ā
āLike I said,ā he whispered, āheās a dick. What did he do?ā It wasnāt that he wasĀ assuming, he was justā¦ well. He supposed heĀ wasĀ assuming. But he was usually right to. Geralt often had a way with words that just wasnāt the best way. Things came out of his mouth that heād regret and want to shove back in as though theyād never been released, but his damn pride prevented him fromĀ apologising. Still, thoughā¦ you were much like that man in many aspects, most of which he still hadnāt discovered yet.Ā
āShouted,ā you said simply. āHe shouted at me.āĀ
JaskierĀ glanced over to the man in discussion, sharp eyes catching sight of his balled fists and stony face as he worked on Roach. He looked back at you. āWhy?āĀ
āBecause heās too fucking over-protective,Ā thatāsĀ why.ā Fury tainted your voice, andĀ JaskierĀ briefly gazed down at you to witness it.Ā Ā
Now, he had grown to know the Witcher over the past few months heād been a part of his traveling company, and, from what heād seen, he most definitely wasnāt over-protective. HeādĀ seenĀ over-protectiveness. Over-protectiveness was fathers not letting their daughters leave the house because of the possibility theyĀ mayĀ get raped. Over-protectiveness was husbands not telling their wives that their sons had died in battle because, apparently, women canāt deal withĀ hurtĀ andĀ pain. Over-protectiveness was mothers banning their daughters from seeing the men theyād learnt to love through secret meetings because they were too young.
Geralt was protective, yes, but not at all overly. If there had been any hint of that, he wouldāve left you with that woman all those years ago for fear of a child living in his world. He wouldnāt have raised you as his own, teaching you to fight and telling you of all the monsters that lurked out there ā not because he was over-protective, but because the need for self-defense was high. He wouldnāt have kept you away from the stories he told you before you went to sleepā¦ stories of the dragons heād seen and theĀ kikimoresĀ heād killed. He wouldnāt let you walk to the river by yourself, or sleep away from him at nights under the stars if you so wished, or let you go out riding on Roach by whatever tavern you were staying at.Ā Ā
Everything he did for you was as any proper parent would do. Simply protectiveness. Not letting your child come to any danger, but not keeping her away from the trials and errors of life, either. That was how they learned, after all.Ā
So, it was with all this in mind, that he wondered exactly what had transpired between you both. PerhapsĀ GeraltāsĀ obvious irritation had been well-deserved and called-for.Ā
Narrowing hisĀ eyesĀ a fraction of an inch,Ā JaskierĀ stared at you. āWhat was he beingā¦Ā over-protectiveĀ about?āĀ
You sniffed. āHe wonāt let me come with him to kill the werewolf.āĀ
Ah. And there it was. The spilled dreams of every adventurous child, wishing to be just like their father.Ā Ā
ThereĀ was something GeraltĀ definitelyĀ wasnātĀ over-protective about. IfĀ JaskierĀ ever saw him invite you on one of his hunts, heād likely have a heart attack there and then. If a grownĀ manĀ ā yes, a lousy one, he could admit that ā couldnāt handle the thought of accompanying a famed Witcher on a hunt to kill a blood-thievingĀ monster, how would a young girl be able to?Ā
Alright, perhaps that wasnāt the best analogy. He knew ā somewhereā¦ deep,Ā deepĀ down ā youād beat him in a fight any day.Ā
But theĀ pointĀ was that, even at your level of experience, some things just werenāt meant for young eyes. You were fine with the killing part ā only if the killing was directed at a monster, of course ā and yet he was still privy to all the times the three of you had come across something Witchery on one of your many journeys and the way that Geralt would ensure his body was blocking you from view when he turned to kill it.Ā
It was simple, really. Geralt ofĀ RiviaĀ didnāt like it when you saw him killing something, all black-eyed and bloody. Hated it. Despised it. He didnāt want you to be the same.
SoĀ he took back all those assumptions.Ā
Not the one about him being a dick. That still stood, tall and proud.Ā
Sitting back,Ā JaskierĀ waited for you to turn towards him before he spoke again.Ā Ā āCan you tell me,ā he said, clasping your hands in his, āhonestly. Do you think thatās over-protectiveness?ā
Your face immediately turned cold and you pulled away from him. āYou donāt? I can fight! He taught me! Iāve- Iāve killed monsters before!ā
Jaskier shook his head, glancing over his shoulder to see Geralt looking at the two of you in discreet curiosity. He grasped your hands tightly in his once again and rose both eyebrows. āStop it,ā he said, and you had the good sense to shut your mouth, though your lips still trembled with unbridled anger. āListen to yourself, Y/N. I get that you want to join this hunt, but Geralt knows-ā
āKnows whatās best for me,ā you finished for him with an eye roll, āyeah, yeah.ā
Jaskier frowned. You were never usually like this. Either way, his eyes werenāt ignoring the fact that yours were filling with tears once again. Sighing, he shifted around properly on the rock. āIf you died, what do you think Geralt would do?ā
You looked at him, opening your mouth to speak but closing it a second later. āI-ā
āHeād go mad,ā the bard interrupted, raising both eyebrows for emphasis. āHe wouldā¦ utterly, truly, go insane. That man over there lives for you, Y/N. Iād hate to see the Witcher heād be if he hadnāt kept you that day.ā You stayed quiet, simply staring into his eyes. āIf I had a daughter, I would rather step, armourless, in the path of a werewolf than let her fight one like you wish to do.ā He dipped his head and you sighed internally. Somewhere inside you, you knew he was right. Of course he was. But that didnāt mean you needed to accept that.
You glanced up as you felt his thumb rub across the back of your hand. āA person will do whateverās necessary to protect the ones they love, Y/N,ā he told you gently. āUnderstand that.ā
Jaskier watched with a knowing smile as the gears in your head turned. Finally, you cautiously flicked your eyes over to stare behind him at Geralt, who had evidently finished tacking up Roach and was now mumbling quietly to her, something he always reverted to when he was feeling stressed. You sighed internally. That was partly your fault, you supposed.
āIāll speak to him,ā you told the bard, and his smile grew as he nodded his head.
āGood,ā he said. āGo sort it out. Iām not traveling with two moody people who wonāt even look at each other for the next few days.ā
He gently shoved you in Geraltās direction, shaking his head fondly as you stumbled over a log and shot him a narrowed glare, before watching as you made your way over to the Witcher.
You wondered if you had been the topic of Geralt and Roachās conversation, because you couldnāt help but feel as though the horse was silently judging you as you slowly walked up to them. Geralt, on the other hand, did anything but acknowledge your presence, sticking to rubbing his hands along Roachās back and keeping his eyes away from your own.
You sighed. āGeralt?ā
āCan- can we talk?ā you offered, absently fidgeting with the hem of your tunic. It was at this that he turned his head to face you, harsh eyes looking considerably carefully into your own. A moment later, he moved away from Roach and took a step toward you, crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow a fraction of an inch.
Youād forgotten how much so he could be.
Blinking, you bit your lip and attempted to figure out what to say. Surprisingly, no words could come to your mouth.
āPerhaps you could start with āIām sorryā,ā he suggested gruffly. Before you could open your mouth to speak, he continued, obviously knowing you well enough to be certain of what your next words would be. āYou shouted at me long before I returned the favour,ā he said. āWhat did you call me? It was-ā
āIām sorry,ā you said.
He nodded. āAs am I. For shouting, that is, and letting my temper get the best of me. That is all Iām apologising for, however.ā
A spark of frustration swirled inside you, and you subconsciously balled your fists together. āCan we not at least talk-ā
āYou donāt know what I was going to say!ā
āOh, believe me, I do.ā
āYou donāt think Iām good enough!ā
āI do think youāre good enough, and thatās what scares me!ā He burst forward, a fire in his eyes, his own fists clenched and teeth gritting together.
Coming from his mouth, the words felt foreign to you. Even in his darkest times, Geralt had never shown any hint towards being scared. You supposed that was a guardianās job ā to not let your child see that you were frightened ā but even soā¦
āYes, because you are too much like for me for your own fucking good!ā At this, you took a step back, whether consciously or not, swallowing thickly as that fire in his eyes raged in an inferno. He noticed immediately, however, and took his own step back, straightening and reigning in his temper. He shut his eyes and shook his head, lowering it. āListen,ā he said, voice cooler. āGirls your ageā¦ they shouldnāt want to join hunts for werewolves or strigas or kikimoresā¦ they should be scared of the idea. Terrified. They should want to stay home and- and sew, or whatever else it is that they do.ā
āIām not like other girls,ā you told him.
āI understand that,ā he said, āand I accept my part in making it truth, but that doesnāt mean I am going to indulge in it.ā His eyes opened and held you in a steady gaze ā much less fiery and more like the soft amber you loved. āI canāt have you turn out like me more than you already have,ā he said simply. āI want you safe. I want you not to turn into a killer. That isnāt the image I had in mind when I decided to keep you.ā You frowned at his words, watching as he stepped forward. āYou are good enough. Of course you are. Youāve been learning to fight since you could walk. But Iām a Witcher. And every hunt for me is far from easy. I have almost died more times than I would have liked, and I refuse to willingly lay the same risk on you.ā
Geralt wasnāt often outspoken, but in the times that he was, you found it extremely difficult to disagree with his words. For such an impassive man, he had a talent for making whatever he said hold such emotion. You supposed that was why you couldnāt help the tears which welled in your eyes as he spoke.
āYou can hate me all you like,ā he said. āLie awake at night, dreaming of ways to murder me while I sleep. But I would rather suffer through that a thousand times over than have you lying in a ditch somewhere, dead, because I let you join me in a hunt. You are far too precious to me for thatā¦ and I apologise that you clearly cannot see it.ā
A fat tear rolled down from one of your eyes, leaving a silver trail, and you rushed your arm up to rub it away. āI can see it,ā you assured him. āYouāre all Iāve ever had, Geraltā¦ you know I look up to youā¦ I just- I guess I was upset at the fact that the both of us know I can fightā¦ Iāve done it beforeā¦ yet you still wonāt let me.ā You sighed, shaking your head as the realisation that perhaps your logic was a little shaky reached the sane part of your mind. āI wanted to be like you,ā you all but breathed out.
Geralt let a small smile appear on his face, riddled with dim emotion. He shook his head. āNo, you donāt,ā he said. āYou want to be you, because you are more important than I. Yes, you have fought before, but that is when we are caught in battle and I donāt have a choice. When I am given one, I use it. Wisely.ā Silence ensued for a moment between you, but when another tear leaked from your eye, he silently stepped forward and enveloped you in a hug. āOne day,ā he said quietly, stroking the back of your head. āOne day, I will have enough faith in the world to let you fightā¦ but until then, I do it alone. I canāt fight to the best of my ability while knowing youāre risking your life beside me, because my sole thought would be on protecting you.ā He kissed the top of your head. āIt always is.ā
āIām sorry,ā you said, gripping his tunic. āI wasnāt thinking.ā
He shook his head. āI was often the same as a childā¦ wanting to fight and prove myself. What I didnāt realise was that there are many other ways ā both safer and better ā to do that.ā He drew back and held you at armās length, allowing a small smile to grace his lips. āBetter to be late in this life than early in the next, hm?ā
You mirrored his expression, reaching up yet again to rub at your eyes.Ā āYes.ā
Geralt wrapped an arm around your shoulder and tugged you against his side, taking a hold of Roachās reins with the other before slowly walking towards where Jaskier was still sat on the rock, strumming his lute.Ā āAre you certain the real reason you wished to fight with me is because you didnāt want to be left with him?ā your Witcher asked quietly, leaning down so you could hear.
You scoffed.Ā āHeās not that bad,ā you told him, the happiness already returning to your eyes.Ā āHe was the one who made me speak to you, after all.ā
āOh, it was an ugly, fat donkey ball, by the way.ā
Geraltās eyebrows shot up and he turned his head down to meet your amused gaze.Ā āWhat?ā
āThatās what I called you.ā
āI see. Innovative. What does it even mean?ā
āOh, you little shit-ā
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