ok first of all, your latest fic is gorgeous and i love the ot3 dynamic (yenraltkier? is that their ot3 ship name? geraskierfer?) but oh my lord THE ANGST jakier literally prefer to lose his music, an essential part of his life, of who he is, face the pain of losing a limb rather than face the pain from seeing geralt choosing not to save him, rather seeing geralt forced to choose between them, and im just???? this is literally PAINFUL
Nonnie, please come into my inbox so I can shower you in all the love. Because you have just summarised everything I wanted to write in that story. Jaskier knowing he would never win when faced with a choice between him and Yennefer. And he absolutely didn’t want to hear Geralt choose someone else over him (again). This way, he could keep his dignity and an illusion of hope that Geralt might have picked him (even though he knows better).
This unspoken fact would put a bit of a dampener on their relationship. Jaskier felt like a third wheel, the hot water bottle that only ever came out on cold nights when needed. Despite his inner turmoil, he tried to smile, to pretend that nothing was wrong. Even though he heard the other two talking about his fate, knew that he wasn’t an asset anymore, he served no function. On the most bitter of days, Jaskier cried, knowing he didn’t even have two hands to please both his lovers at once. His only purpose in the relationship and it was gone.
Of course, the other two didn’t see it like that. They loved Jaskier in their own ways. But guilt over the choices they didn’t make but knew the outcome of anyway blinded them. Touching Jaskier was a privilege Geralt didn’t think he deserved anymore because he wouldn’t have picked him. And Yennefer found that while she loved the fact she was first choice for someone, she looked at Jaskier and all he had lost in the face of her victory and it felt hollow.
As much as they could, Geralt and Yennefer tried to make it up to Jaskier. But it was Jaskier pulling away from kisses, shying away from touch. He didn’t feel complete and the others didn’t dare challenge him on it. They accepted his withdrawal and he understood it to mean they were grateful they didn’t have to be with him. It wasn’t a happy few months. Lots of assumptions, veiled conversations at cross purposes. The only thing Jaskier couldn’t make sense of was the few times he did end up sharing a bed, it was still just a loving and care filled as before. But perhaps Geralt and Yennefer were good at pretending. Or they were just good lovers. Either way, it messed with Jaskier’s head.
When Yennefer ushered him through a portal without Geralt and lute in hand, Jaskier had assumed many things. He almost hoped she was going to slit his throat and use the lute as a grave marker. Tell Geralt Jaskier had run off or left them. It might hurt Geralt but it would be easier on them all. Only, Yennefer didn’t do any such thing. She introduced Jaskier to a blacksmith who crafted her wares with magic and fire.
The silver hand didn’t quite feel like his own, not immediately but Jaskier was too floored at the idea of having a left hand again to worry about it.
“The more you use it, the more it will be yours. But you can also remove it when you need,” the blacksmith had said but Jaskier barely heard her. It was only when Yennefer stood opposite him with a small, genuine smile and offered up the lute that he understood. She didn’t need to tell him she loved him.
“Go drive Geralt up the wall with your songs. He’s missed them.” Yennefer missed them too. The last few months of silence from their bard had been difficult for them all. As they returned, Jaskier didn’t miss the flicker of disbelieving delight that crossed Geralt’s face.
And, if that night, Yennefer urged Jaskier to put his new hand to the side, he did as asked, finally allowing himself to be loved as he had been all along.
