Golden Fields

An unexpected legacy

‘why don’t we get away for a while?” was his “I'll love you until I die,” Geralt realised much too late. The bard was a poet, a poet who constantly made it easy for Geralt to say what he needed. But he hadn’t fucking noticed. He was too busy thinking about Yennefer. About how Yennefer made him feel to recognize that Jaskier had caused him to feel in the first place.

Then he had quarrelled with Yen because he cared. He cared, but that wasn’t why he destroyed their relationship. He did it because she made him feel more. Then, he turned on Jaskier, the man that broke down Geralt, the one who had nurtured feelings into Geralt's chest. And in recognition, he had verbally torn down the chapel that was their relationship. And for the first time, jasper had walked away.

He swore to forget the bard. Yennefer had told Geralt “you’ll forget in time.” He believed her, alike in her ferocity and resentment, Yennefer always had a point. Geralt had wished the bard away. And he listened. By the time Geralt had cooled from spewing over Yennefer, Jaskier had disappeared. But as the years went on haltingly, Jaskier still preyed upon his mind.

He kept the likeness of his lover firmly in his mind. It was a battle. Years created memories, and after decades of fighting to forget pain, he almost lost the agonizing memory of Jaskier. If he could only win one battle, it would be this one. it was the last thing he had, he had sent away the rest.

Some nights he went half crazy. If he thought hard enough, he could almost sense the heat of Jaskier beside him on the bedroll. Or feel the bards curls roll over his neck as he shifted in his sleep. Or indeed, on silent nights, the echo of the bard playing by the fire late into the night. Jaskier wrote for the stars, composed to put Geralt into the constellations; he worked best by their guidance. Sometimes Geralt even believed that maybe the stars were on his side. Geralt found that he loved Jaskier on the first night like this, and for the first time in his life prayed to whatever god graced the skies, Prayed Jaskier would come back again–like he always did.

Geralt kept some of Jaskiers papers, by his heart. So when the bard returned to his rightful place, he could return them. But too much timed passed, ‘perhaps he forgot that he left them,’ So Geralt went searching to return them. It was a wretched excuse to be close enough to the bard to remember how his heartbeats and, how he smelt.

After weeks of travel, Geralt stood in Oxenfurt’s town plaza. The village was intensely busy. People were everywhere, none familiar. It had been decades since he had been in the town. Geralt walked, recounted the stories of the bard, hoping to find some clue to where to find Dandelion in the chaos of the bubbling town.
For the millionth time, Geralt wished he paid more attention to what the bard said, instead of how he said it. As he reached a soberer, more wealthy part of town, he caught a familiar mop of hair and followed.

“Jaskier!” Geralt called to the bard.

The bard didn’t cease but speed up. Ducking through the crowd. Geralt growled in response and hasten up to follow. Jaskier was never one to run, not from Geralt. He must have known Geralt was here to apologise. Jaskier would have eaten that up before now.

“Jaskier! Its Geralt!” Geralt yelled, closing in on the man. The man must have realized he was close. And ducked down a side road and out of view.

“Julian Alfred Pankratz!” the witcher yelled as he rounded the corner. As he did, he found himself shoved into the stone of the wall behind him.

“Why are you following me?!” the man demanded.

Geralt looked to him, finding the voice off, and was met with hazel eyes instead of blue. Jaskier nose was off. a slimmer, more angular face. Wider build. How had he confused this man for Jaskier? Had he forgotten the bard? somehow he reminded the witcher of the bard.

“I'm looking for Jaskier,” the Geralt ruffed removing the young man's arms from his chest.

“my father?” the young man asked, angling his head to the side. Jaskier? His father? Jaskier is a father. a father to a young man, not a boy. When was the child born? Why did he not mention the child to Geralt in all their time together?
“Hmm,” Geralt responded.

“I don’t know why you want him. But you won’t find him,” The boy murmured. Looking away, before swiftly taking a step away from the Witcher when he saw people looking.

Had Jaskier sired this child and disappeared? it would not have surprised Geralt, the bard often buckled under the pressure, if not grown irritated with domestic life.

“do you have any idea where I can find him?” Geralt huffed, knowing he’ll talk to the man about deserting his child. Even Geralt had gone back for his child surprise.

“He died last year,” the son mumbled.

Died? Geralt frowns. Jaskier died? He had heard little of his love for some time. He assumed the bard had gotten himself into some trouble and went into hiding— how long had it been? how old would Jaskier be now? It has been almost twenty years since he last saw the bard. Jaskier would have been almost sixty. Geralt had never seen the manage. Or perhaps just didn’t take notice. it never crossed his mind that Jaskier would die one day. The bard tended not to do things unless he wanted to. Geralt had never considered that there would be a time where it would be inconceivable to have Jaskier by his side.

He didn’t say goodbye. He didn’t even allow himself the chance too, he has assumed that Jaskier would run back to him, as he always did. Jaskier was always weak-willed, forgave too easily. Geralt had taken advantage of that for decades, because he was too closed off, wasn’t willing to let the man he loved in, as a result, Jaskier gave up on him and begun his own life.

“your mother? Where is she?” Geralt breathed, knowing he needs answers to his questions. He needs the chance to apologise to Jaskier, even if he’s already retired to the soil.

“I don’t have a mother, my father carried me,” the boy admitted, shifting strangely. Jaskier had carried the child? Jaskier had shown no interest in having a child of his own, let alone bear one. But Geralt had been misguided about Jaskier countless times.

“your father then?”

“I don’t know him, some witcher da had met on his way home from travelling. Da had never spoken of him.”

Geralt's skin prickled at that, not only had someone, someone other than him had given his bard a child, it was a fellow witcher. A witcher had taken advantage of the despair he had caused for Jaskier, and used it to impregnate the poor bard, and then abandon him.

Geralt will find the witcher, make him pay for the atrocities he’s committed against his child, Geralt's bard. Make him understand what miracle he has missed because he disregarded the bard.

“ill find the witcher,” Geralt told the child.

The boy lit up at that. For a moment, he saw Jaskier on the first day they met. There was something else there, it hid in the young man's shoulders. A tightness. Geralt could not place its likeness.

“Can I join?” he asked, “there’s nothing left here for me.”

“fine. But I don’t want to hear a word from you,” Geralt stated as he strode back in the direction of roach. Geralt would not have left the boy there anyhow, he would hold onto the last piece of Jaskier for as long as he could. the lad should have the chance to meet his father anyways.

“My name is Boreu, Da named me after a dragon he met, though I doubt the truthness of the stories.”