The Greater Good | Ch. 10
A Cruel Reminder
CW: 18+—ignoring feelings, alcohol use, sex
Previous Chapter x
Ao3
this is full of lots of foreshadowing and a sweet lil soft boi geralt xx enjoy
The dew droplets on the grass sparkled with the rising sun, and it began to soak through the bottom of Juniper’s pants where she sat cross-legged next to Jaskier.
They sat almost knee-to-knee, but not touching. They breathed in together and they breathed out together, their shoulders rising and falling in sync. Juniper shivered as the cool morning air brushed against her bare skin, goosebumps rippled across her arms, her hair standing on end. The quick chill from the breeze was almost instantly replaced by warmth spreading across her like a blanket as the sun completely revealed itself in the sky, blazing hot.
She inhaled.
She exhaled.
Juniper tilted her head up to the sky, the sun starting to peak through the morning mist. In the distance, she thought she heard the chirp of a bird, but she knew that mustn’t be true because birds hadn’t existed since Nilfgaard started using drones. She distinctly remembered meeting dead birds on the ground, innocent bystanders that had been struck by drones.
She felt the tiniest breeze flutter passed her hand, and then she felt a weight touch down. She looked and thought she might be hallucinating because a goldfinch was sitting right before her, touching her, his head twitching as he looked around at his surroundings. Juniper dared not to breathe; she couldn’t believe her eyes. The goldfinch was staring right at her and she stared right back, afraid to blink or he might disappear. Just as quickly as he had appeared, he disappeared, a tiny yellow speck flying towards the willow tree. Juniper shivered, thinking again of her sister.
The clock tower in Myanmag struck six o’clock, its bells telling her it was time to start to the day, but the tick, tick, tick shook her to her bones, a not-so gentle reminder that the clock was ticking, time was slipping through her fingers. Each second, she felt her sister being pulled further and further from her. It was starting to feel like she might never reach her.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
She shivered.
“Shall we get started, Junie?”
Juniper blinked herself back to the present, back to where she was practicing her breathing with Jaskier. They met every morning before sunrise to meditate before practicing his combat training. Sometimes Geralt would join them, other times it was just the two of them. Jaskier practiced with both Geralt and Juniper so he could get a feel for different body types.
Juniper could see his improvement and along with that, his confidence. She realized that she liked teaching, and for these moments of her day, she felt happy. She found happiness in the simplicity of combat training, much like she did with her garden. For some fleeting moments, she felt like everything was right and okay in the world. She had her friends who had become family at Myanmag, she had Jaskier, she had Geralt. But late at night or in the middle of the day or at breakfast or in the bath, she was reminded that there was something missing, someone missing. Someone who had been missing for far too long—her sister, Ciri. When she was cruelly reminded of her absence, it felt like she couldn’t breathe, like the weight of the world came down on her all at once.
She choked down her heartache for her sister, turned to her newfound friend and smiled, and was met with a smile in return. “Let’s.”
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By the end of the day, Juniper had to practically drag her body to her bedroom. She had dove headfirst into her work that day, from meditating at dawn and combat training with Jaskier to working and harvesting in her garden to helping Triss craft various elixirs for their stock. Despite the hard work, she was grateful for it because she hadn’t thought about her sister all day, and when the thought of Ciri being locked up by Nilfgaard crept to the front of her mind, she shoved it to the back with another backbreaking chore.
Many people questioned Juniper, asking, “But Juniper, you’re a mage, why don’t you use your skills to do the work for you?” She would laugh it off and say she had to keep her figure somehow, but the reality was that it really did help her keep her figure in the way that it kept her from falling apart.
She leaned her forehead against the rough wood of her bedroom door, her hand on the crystal doorknob. When she felt like she had bottled up her heartache just enough to keep herself breathing, she opened the door. The air in her bedroom was fresh and cool, and she appreciated it. She shuffled to the bar-cart near the fireplace and poured herself a drink and tossed it back then poured herself another. She let her body fall onto the couch and she shut her eyes briefly, her last waking thought about the goldfinch from the morning. She felt bothered at the memory, something was wrong with the bird. She remembered now his eye—red and blinking. How strange.
Juniper must have dozed off because the room was slightly darker when she awoke to the sound of her shower running. She stood up, her foot stepping in the drink she spilled when she fell asleep. The sound of the shower reminded her that she herself could do with a bath, and this idea was confirmed when she saw the dirt caked underneath her fingernails.
She turned the crystal doorknobs of the double-sided white marble door that led into her bathroom with curiosity because someone had to have gone through her bedroom to get to the shower. The room was aglow with candlelight and smelled—the smell—was heavenly, cedar and eucalyptus. She suddenly felt drunk despite having only had one drink.
She stopped at the other end of the room to find Geralt standing in the shower, his back facing her. She admired the water running down his strong shoulders to his thick legs. He was running his fingers through his white hair, soaking each strand. She watched him raise his chin to the ceiling, the water running over his face. Silently, she took off her clothes and left them folded on the counter. Juniper knew that Geralt was aware of her presence, but he didn’t make it known. She stepped into the glass shower, it was the size of a small bedroom and was wall-to-wall deep emerald stone, a gold shower head descended from the ceiling. The steam enveloped her like a warm hug. She stepped towards Geralt and pressed her body against his back, wrapping her arms around him. Hugging him felt like hugging a living statue.
“Is this okay?” She asked.
He turned around in her arms, his face tender. His hand touched her cheek and he brushed back her wet, golden hair; he could feel warmth spread through his body. He had never been more okay. Juniper did that to him, and he didn’t know if he liked it or not. How curious these two; both individuals so afraid of the other but unable to stay away. He counted every droplet of water on her dark lashes, her eyes pools of black as she gazed up at him. What is she thinking?
Almost as if she could hear his thoughts, she looked away, burying her face in his chest before her face could give away her thoughts. He tightened his arms around her. For a moment, they stood silently, bodies pressed together with the water running over them silently.
Juniper looked up at him again after some time, eyes drowsy, yet mischievous. “Let’s finish what we started.”
He looked at her quizzically, then remembered how they were interrupted in the garden shed yesterday. Devious smiles spread across their faces simultaneously, but their gazes softened the longer they looked at each other. They leaned in close to each other, their lips just grazing each other’s—just a taste. They kissed each other softly at first, their arms instinctively closing tighter around each other as their kisses grew deeper. Geralt brought his hand up to Juniper’s cheek and held it gently, his fingers tangled in the hair at the base of her neck. Her hand rested gently on his neck, leaving goosebumps as she ran her fingers down his shoulder and left it gripping his forearm. He reached to turn off the water and they stood dripping, staring at each other, the electricity between them practically visible.
Geralt reached for her, his hand gripping her sides as he lifted her up, her legs wrapping around him. They laughed together as she clung to him, struggling as she did so due to his wet skin. She left kisses on his neck and gently held his ear between her teeth for a moment. He laid her down on the bed and stood over her, both of them reminiscing to their first time together. Except this time, Geralt admired the tattoos on her body, his hand reaching out to touch the hummingbird on her hip; it came to life beneath his fingertips, wings flitting wildly, his eyes widened in awe. He drew his fingertips up toward the owl’s feather—for wisdom—on the inside of her forearm and it beat as if the owl was actually there, he swore he could feel a breeze. Juniper watched him intently, watched how he perceived her body. Though he didn’t say it, he thought; no, he knew he was looking at the most beautiful piece of art he’d ever seen.
He leaned down and kissed her thighs, her belly button, her chest. He hovered over her and she wrapped her legs around him, bringing him in closer. She pushed her head back into her bed, shutting her eyes to the world and let herself fall into the moment, where Geralt’s mouth was working down her neck to her collarbone, his hands gently caressing her breasts.
Instinctively, she dug her fingers into his back when he pinched her nipple. Her eyes flashed open and she was met face-to-face with Geralt, eyes ablaze. Without looking away, he reached down and pushed himself inside of her and she gasped. They kept their eyes locked as their bodies moved together. Juniper thought Geralt was close to finishing when he buried his face in the crook of her neck, grunting with each thrust. But instead, he sat back and lifted her into his lap as he did. She held onto him; her arms wrapped around his neck. She kissed his neck and then held his face close to her own. She bit her lip, stopping herself from crying out as she felt bruises start to form where Geralt gripped onto her hips, his hands too strong.
Geralt couldn’t get close enough to her after having spent so many years apart. He was brought back to reality as he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He was mad at himself but mostly confused. Who cries during sex? He shoved his feelings down and let his mind escape to how glorious it felt to be in Juniper. He watched her toss her head back in ecstasy and her breasts bounce with each quick thrust. His mouth fell open and he squeezed his eyes shut as he finished. He fell forward with Juniper in his arms and rested his head next to hers as he laid between his legs, shivering as she ran her fingers through his hair. He kissed her shoulder, breathing her in.
Almost asleep, he brought his head up. “I almost forgot.” Juniper met his statement with a confused stare. He removed himself from the entanglement of her limbs and walked over to his pants where he picked them up to find a small gift in his pocket.
In the short time he was gone, Juniper had fallen asleep. He watched her chest rise and fall slowly, her eyes fluttering under their lids. On her bedside table, Geralt set down his gift: a small, handmade wooden figure of a wolf. He had carved it from a Juniper tree. Slowly, as to not wake her, he pulled up the sheet on her body and got in bed beside her, watching her as she slept. His love for her flooded his chest.
Now there were two wolves to watch over her.
