Work Text:
Geralt had grown accustomed to traveling with Ciri. Moving around the continent to avoid the Nilfgaard soldiers searching for her, instead of traveling to fight the next monster, collect the next bag of coin.
He still fought, of course, but he was more careful with what he chose now. He was more suspicious of whose coin he was taking.
He was careful with where he left Ciri, when he went on a hunt.
He knew that, while he was being careful, they also had luck on their side. Luck that Ciri hadn’t been recognized. Luck that Geralt knew how to live off the woods, if need be. Luck that they’d managed to hear word of Nilfgaard soldier arriving twice, and slipped away without being caught both times.
Their luck would run out eventually, but for now, Geralt would take it.
And in the meantime, he would train the girl as best he could with what he knew, and he would pray it was enough.
So they traveled from town to town, trying not to be noticed, trying to just survive.
It had been a year already.
Two years, since he’d parted from his last travel companions.
He wondered, sometimes, what had happened to Yennifer, the woman he loved. If she had fought and died in the war. If she was still fighting in it now. If she’d abandoned the Brotherhood, and was living elsewhere entirely.
And he wondered about Jaskier… the man that he… but he tried not to think about him too much.
Thinking about him just brought guilt. And pain.
And he couldn’t be distracted by that. Not with Ciri around.
But when he lay awake, the girl sleeping soundly beside him, looking up at the stars, he let his mind wander…
And he let himself wonder if Jaskier was looking up at the stars too, wondering about him.
--
Traveling between towns, at least a ten days journey, a trio of bandits pass them by. Geralt was quick to steer them into the trees, and only took them back to the road when he was sure they were gone.
A mile or so later, though, he saw one of their horses again… and two of the men that passed them. Geralt steered them back into the forest, hoping Ciri wouldn’t see the bodies, and stayed in the woods this time. He would rather meet a beast, than have to deal with monstrosity of humans.
Whoever had killed those men had been using a blade, not any teeth Geralt was familiar with cut that smoothly.
A few more miles, and Geralt could feel Ciri fading, leaning against his back, and he started to plan camp for the night. It was after he dismounted that he heard it, a song that he’d been hearing everywhere, but from a voice he would recognize anywhere.
Geralt led them a little further in, and there he was. Jaskier, his feet kicked up on a bag, his lute in hand, leaning against a tree like he didn’t have a care in the world. There was a horse tied up eating some grain off the grass, and a fire cooking a rabbit.
Jaskier looked up when a branch snapped under Geralt’s feet, but he didn’t jerk in surprise in the way Geralt had half expected him to. He didn’t curse at him, like he was half afraid he would either. His face looked… uncharacteristically blank, as he watched Geralt lead Roach into the clearing.
Until he saw the Princess on Roach’s back.
“Ah, the Child Surprise,” Jaskier said, turned to grin at Geralt, “I had wondered if you’d gone after her, when Cintra fell.”
Geralt grunted, because it was clear that he had. She was with him now, after all.
“Jaskier!” Ciri cried, and Geralt turned to her in surprise. She climbed off of the horse and rushed to the bard, who stood up to greet her as well. “Oh, it’s been ages .”
“You know each other?”
“Jaskier used to play for us all the time!” Ciri said, her arms wrapped around Jaskier’s middle, “he’d always come talk to me too! When he was there, things weren’t always so horrendously boring.”
“Yes, well,” Jaskier pulled back, patting Ciri’s shoulder once before he pulled away completely, “that was a long time ago now. I’m sorry for your loss, Princess.”
“Call me Ciri, Jaskier, like I’ve always told you too,” Ciri said, ignoring Jaskier’s condolences like she ignored all mention of the fall of Cintra. Something Geralt was wondering if he should be worried about. The girl instead looked between Jaskier, his fire, and the horse, and then beamed at the bard, “are you staying here for the night? Can we stay with you?”
Jaskier looked turned to Geralt, “ask your Witcher, he’s the one that might mind, not me.”
Geralt frowned, the words cutting deeper than he’d care to admit. It had been two years since they last saw each other, but they both knew what the last words they had exchanged had been.
What Geralt’s last words to him had been.
“I don’t mind,” Geralt said carefully, “if you do not have a problem with it.”
Jaskier shrugged, and Ciri took that as a yes. The girl happily turned to Roach, pulled down their sleep rolls and their bags to set up camp for the night. Geralt watched Jaskier, but the man really did seem to have no problem sharing a fire with them for the night.
Geralt left soon after to collect firewood and dinner for the night, leaving Ciri to listen to Jaskier’s songs.
Songs that were about witches, and adventures Geralt didn’t recognize. Songs that were not about him.
That cut deeper than Geralt would care to admit as well.
He had two rabbits over his shoulder, and wood tucked under his arm, when he heard Ciri scream. He dropped it all, running, his sword at the ready, he entered the clear-
To find Ciri, crouched beside the body of a boar, and Jasker, wiping a sword in the grass.
Jaskier glanced over at him, sheathing his weapon with a practiced ease Geralt didn’t recognize, “it was just a wild boar, probably spooked by the fire. She’s fine.”
Geralt looked to Ciri, who was poking the boar now, a frown on her face. She looked fine.
“And you?” Geralt couldn’t help but ask. Because this was Jaskier, and the last time he’d seen him… Jaskier hadn’t been able to take down a fly, let alone a raging wild boar.
Jaskier cocked his head at him, like he was confused that Geralt would ask about his well being which was… surely Geralt had asked after him in the past. He’d always had Jaskier at the back of his mind, of course he’d asked if he was okay before.
But by the way Jaskier was now smirking at him, like this was a new trick Geralt had learned, maybe he hadn’t.
“I’m perfectly fine.”
“The sword is new.”
Jaskier nodded, moving to put the sword back beside his lute case. “I stayed with a Nobleman for a few months last year, he taught me the basics.” Geralt frowned, he didn’t like picturing Jaskier staying with another man for a few months . “If you didn’t catch anything, this will surely feed all three of us for the night.”
Geralt shifted, he’d completely forgotten about his catch. “I dropped it when I heard... “ Jaskier wasn’t listening, and Ciri was still focused on the boar. He turned back to collect it all without another word.
--
The night went by without anymore incident. Jaskier played his lute until Ciri was asleep, and then he turned in his own bedroll, falling asleep without saying goodnight to Geralt.
It was to be expected, even if it stung. Jaskier had always been a talker, had always been the one to make sure they caught up on each other’s lives when they ran into each other again. Although, Geralt was now realizing he’d asked more questions than he’d shared. He hadn’t known Jaskier had gone back to play in Cintra’s court, enough times for Ciri to remember him.
He’d never asked what Jaskier did, in his time in between.
And this time, Jaskier was clearly not going to make the effort to find out what Geralt had been up to either.
Geralt knew why. He had no reason to be offended. He’d been the one to push Jaskier away, he couldn’t expect the bard to act like nothing had happened. That wouldn’t be fair. He was lucky Jaskier had allowed them to share a fire for the night.
No matter how much Geralt wished they could go back to the way things had been before… that wasn’t how life worked.
He knew that better than anyone.
--
Geralt woke to the sounds of packing, and he sat up right when he heard a horse being led away.
They weren’t being robbed, though, and Roach was still tied up to her tree. Jaskier was just leaving as the first light of dawn broke through the trees.
“Say goodbye to the girl for me,” Jaskier said, before he hoisted himself onto the mare and rode away.
Geralt lay back down, watching the space in the trees Jaskier had disappeared through.
He shouldn't be surprised he didn’t get a goodbye. He hadn’t given Jaskier one last time either.
--
Geralt let Ciri sleep in, mostly to avoid the girls disappointed look when she realized Jaskier had left without speaking to her. The look came anyway, and Geralt didn’t have an answer for her questions.
Jaskier had left because of him. Because he’d been an ass.
He didn’t want to tell her that though.
They ate the rabbit for breakfast, and set out on foot for the town. They had been riding Roach for days, and they would be able to make it to the town by nightfall on foot.
The girl deserved a break.
--
They entered the town just as the sun began to set, casting long, gold, streaks across the cloudy sky.
Ciri was talking about the food she thought the tavern might have. Ciri’s ramblings often reminded him of Jaskiers. He’d often wondered if the two of them would get along.
And now he knew… the only thing stopping them from a friendship was Geralt.
He sighed as he handed Roach off to the inn’s handler. She would enjoy a night indoors, with hay to chew, and oats to eat.
Geralt wished he could afford giving her more.
He and Ciri entered the tavern, and Geralt paused in the doorway at the familiar voice, singing to the crowd.
Of course Jaskier was here. He was a bard. This was his job.
Geralt should have stretched their journey out another day, so they wouldn’t have to bump paths again.
Jaskier turned on the stage, clearly looked right at them, and then turned away. Geralt doubted if they would get so much as a hello out of him tonight.
He felt a pang of guilt when Ciri’s shoulders dropped in disappointment.
Geralt led them to an empty table, ordered dinner and ale for himself. Dinner and water for the girl.
As they ate, Ciri watched Jaskier move around the room, playing his lute and singing his songs. He never moved over their way. Geralt was not surprised. When they were both finished, Ciri stood up, and Geralt followed her.
The inn was next door. It wasn’t long before they were in their conjoined rooms for the night, but Geralt hesitated, surprised, when Ciri chose to come sit on Geralt’s bed, instead of going to bed in her own room.
“He’s different, now,” Ciri said into the silence, wrapping her arms around herself, “something’s happened to him.”
Geralt sighed, sitting down beside the girl. He didn’t want to talk about this. “People change,” he offered, more of a platitude than anything else.
“He used to spend a lot of time talking to me,” Ciri continued, “he said he was doing it for a friend. Checking in on me to make sure I was okay.” Ciri sniffed, “I didn’t believe him, though, he talked to me too much to be doing it for anyone but himself. I thought we were friends . Now it’s like he doesn’t even care.”
Geralt felt his heart sink. He was the friend Jaskier spoke of. The bard had gone back to Cintra, back to a place he’d never felt safe, to check on Geralt’s child surprise.
Then Geralt had blamed him for it… and now Ciri was paying the price.
Geralt really was an ass.
--
After Ciri fell asleep, in her own bed, Geralt made his way back to the tavern.
He had a bard to speak to.
Jaskier was still playing, though now he was just sitting on a stool, humming a slow song to a few hungry eyed maidens. Geralt was worried he would have to wait until Jaskier left one of their rooms before he could talk to him; but, soon after he finished his last song, Jaskier collected his coin, packed his lute away, and gestured to another man to follow him out the back door.
So Jaskier was having one of his more… deviant nights. Geralt followed the two men to the back, prepared to wait for them by the back door. He hoped they would be quicker than Jaskier was with a woman.
As he leaned against the back door, however, he did not hear the sounds of fucking. Instead he heard whispering. Geralt inched the door open a crack, and froze, his eyes widening in surprise.
“Why should it be 60/40? I’m the one going out of my way getting the Nilfgaard soldiers.”
“I’ll be docking you down to 20 if you don’t leave quickly enough, they’ll probably be gone by morning.” Jaskier said calmly.
“But I’m the one-”
“You don’t even know who Nilfgaard is looking for,” Jaskier hissed, “be happy I’m letting you join in on this at all.”
A pause. “Why should I even trust you? You killed two of my friends.”
What ? This man was accusing Jaskier of- but no. Jaskier would never… he hadn’t even been able to kill a pixie, one that had been tormenting him for days. Geralt had been forced to do it when he wouldn’t stop whining.
But when Jaskier spoke next, Geralt knew it wasn’t a mistake. Jaskier sounded bored even talking about it, “are you still on that? That was a day ago. You three tried to rob me, and I stopped you, it’s not my fault they died in the act.” Jaskier sighed, like this was taking more effort than it was worth. “Look, you’re a bandit. I know you’ll do anything for money, so it’s 70/30, or I’ll get someone else to go fetch the soldiers. I need to stay here to follow them if you don’t return in time. Alright?”
“Fine.”
Crunching gravel, the man was turning to leave. To bring Nilfgaard soldiers here .
Geralt couldn’t have that.
He opened the door, and took down the man easily with his throwing knife. It sunk into the back of the man’s skull, and he collapsed soon after.
Jaskier just sighed, turning to face him, drawing his sword from the satchel that had once only stored his lute.
“You were selling us out, me and Ciri. For money .” Geralt looked him over as Jaskier didn’t even try to deny it. “Ciri was right, something’s changed. Something’s wrong with you.”
“Wrong is a bit harsh, don’t you think?” Jaskier flicked his sword, positioned his feet in a fighting stance. “Just a few modifications. It’s better this way.”
Geralt frowned, he didn’t draw his own sword, “I’m not going to fight you, Jaskier.”
“Why not? Worried the pathetic bard will draw blood?”
“I’ve never thought you were pathetic,” Geralt said, he raised his hands, took a step forward, and then ducked when Jaskier took a swing at him.
Jaskier may have been practicing, but Geralt had been fighting his whole life. He slipped behind Jaskier easily, and had him in a headlock a moment later. He held on until Jaskier dropped his sword and fell to his knees.
After he was unconscious, Geralt picked him up, threw him over his shoulder, and took him back to his room.
He didn’t know what was wrong with Jaskier, but he was going to find out.
--
Jaskier blinked his eyes open to find himself slumped in a chair, with Geralt and Ciri staring down at him. He blinked a few more times, catching sight of the rope tying him down, and the room from the inn they were obviously in.
He didn’t have a painful pounding in his head, like he would have expected. He wondered how Geralt had taken him down without leaving any injury at all.
Pulling on the restraints, Jaskier wasn’t surprised when they didn’t budge. He stopped pulling to glare up at his two captures.
“Is he possessed by a demon?” Ciri asked in a whisper.
Jaskier snorted. Geralt narrowed his eyes at him. “No, demons don’t exist.”
“Then what’s wrong with him?”
“I don’t know.”
“ Nothing ,” Jaskied said, putting on his best smile, “Nothing’s wrong with me. Geralt’s just a bit dramatic, likes to make his points with emphasis . I got it. I’ll leave, won’t talk to anyone, we won’t have to see each other ever again.”
Geralt scowled at him, “that’s not what I want.”
Jaskier tilted his head, “well it was the last time we spoke.”
Geralt’s scowl deepend. He opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a popping sound.
Yennifer walked out of the portal that had opened behind them.
“You’re calling for me so loudly half the continent must be able to hear it,” she made a few hand gestures, ones none of them understood. The portal disappeared. “What do you want, Geralt?”
“Well, isn’t this a lovely reunion,” Jaskier said, leaning back in his chair, “not sure why I have to be here for it. I would prefer not to be, if I’m being honest.”
Yennifer’s eyes turned to him, her eyebrows shooting up. “Why is he tied to a chair?”
“Something is wrong with him,” Ciri said.
Yennifer turned to her, looked even more surprised, and then turned back to Geralt. “So after two years of silence, you call me here, where you’re hiding the Princess of Cintra, to check up on Jaskier’s … what? Annoying personality?”
“Something is wrong with him,” Geralt repeated. “He killed two men the other day in cold blood. He tried to sell Ciri over to Nilfgaard.”
“Alright, first of all,” Jaskier said, “it’s not like you two haven’t killed anyone, so get off that high horse. Second of all… yes, but have you heard of the reward money? I mean, come on-”
“The Jaskier I know would never kill another man. Nor would he sell out a friend.”
Jaskier snorted, “oh, I see, now we’re friends? A bit late-”
“I was talking about Ciri.”
Jaskier turned to the girl, who did looked rather upset that Jaskier had tried to sell her whereabouts to the Nilfgaard soldiers. But it’s not like they were planning to kill her.
And it wasn’t like they weren’t going to find her eventually.
Jaskier shrugged. As much as he was able to, tied to a chair.
“I see your point,” Yennifer said, her lips pinched.
“Could you just… check? See if he’s been cursed, or something?” Geralt asked.
Yennifer nodded, rolling up her sleeves. “I can’t promise I can fix it,” she warned stepping forward.
Jaskier leaned back, “Yen, darling, you really don’t have to-”
But her hand was already on his forehead, and both of their eyes were already falling shut.
Yennifer opened hers with a sharp inhale a moment later, dropping her hand and staring at Jaskier with wide eyes. “Jaskier, what have you done?”
He shrugged again.
“What?” Geralt asked, stepping forward, grabbed Yennifer’s shoulder, “what is it?”
“Nothing. Really, it is better this way.” Jaskier said,”I don’t see the big deal-”
“It’s not better, Jaskier,” Yennifer shook her head, “your mind is like a black cavern, empty and black.”
“It’s better- ”
“Can you fix it?” Geralt asked.
Yennifer placed her hand back on Jaskier’s forehead, and then all three of them were sucking in a breath before-
Jaskier, two days without his Witcher, and he was wanting, and aching, and fucking pathetic-
Jaskier, two weeks without his Witcher. He’d been invited to play at a Lord’s wedding, but he couldn’t bring himself to play his most well known songs. He was still scraping the tomato out of his ear when he met her.
The witch in the green dress.
He’d never asked for her name. She told him he would help his pain stop, if he wrote a song about some adventure of hers or whatever. Call her the Green Lilly. Jaskier agreed, of course. He would do anything for the pain to stop. And he’d be grateful to have a different song to sing.
She’d placed her hand on his head, traced something against his skin, whispered a few words and then - the pain had been gone.
Everything had been gone.
Jaskier jolted back to the present with a wince. Geralt stumbled back, tearing his hand away from Yennifer like it burned.
“It’s my fault.”
Jaskier tisked, Geralt always made everything about him.
“I can fix it,” Yen said, “it will take a while to get supplies.”
“I’ll pay whatever it costs,” Geralt said. Yennifer was gone before he’d finished the promise.
Jaskier rolled his eyes when Geralt’s sad eyes turned to him.
“That was a lot of excitement, you should probably get the girl to bed, yes?”
Geralt turned to Ciri, who was looking a tad overwhelmed with all this. Jaskier waited until the man and the girl were in the next room before he made his move.
No one had ever said Jaskier didn’t know how to use his mouth.
He managed to get his right hand loose, and was just trying to wiggle out, when Geralt was back and tightening the rope again.
Geralt settled himself on the bed, clearly getting ready to wait the night out. Jaskier would just have to convince him with his words then.
He pouted. “Come now, Geralt, why are you even bothering with this, hmm? I’m not hurting anyone… unless they try to hurt me, but that’s just normal self defence.”
“I’m not doing this because you killed the bandit’s. You’re hurting yourself, Jaskier.”
“Um, no, the opposite in fact.” Jaskier tilted his head, “I’m not hurting, or sad, anymore. I’m not nearly as pathetic as I was either. I’m finally free of everything that had been holding me back. I’m not spending so much time worrying so fucking much about every little thing. It’s really, very relaxing.”
Geralt shook his head, “had I really hurt you so badly… you would prefer to spend the rest of your life as a black pit? Feeling nothing, caring for no one?”
“That’s rich, coming from you,” Jasker tilted his head back, resting it on the back of the chair and staring up at the ceiling. “But if you must know, it wasn’t all to do with our break up. My mother was a whore. She died when I was eight, leaving me with nothing and no one. The only way I got to where I was when I met you was my selling what I had, mostly my body, for gain. I lived with a man three times my age for nearly a year to learn how to play the lute, and then I used that instead.” Jaskier turned to Geralt, to find the Witcher watching him with a pinched expression. “You were simply the first person who tolerated having me around, and didn’t ask for anything in return.. I had even thought you might actually…”
Jaskier shook his head, “but I was wrong. You didn’t love me the way I loved you. You didn’t care. And I was left with nothing and no one... again. For some reason, it was harder the second time.”
Geralt leaned forward, until they were at eye level. “I did care for you, Jaskier. I do, still. I regret what I said… I had been hurting, and you were an easy target. I’m sorry.”
Jaskier shrugged, “it doesn’t really matter now, does it?”
--
They’d fallen into a silence, after that. Jaskier must have realized nothing he said was going to change Geralt’s mind, because he’d started fidgeting with the ropes again instead.
Geralt wasn’t worried. Jaskier, even heartless as he was right now, wasn’t much of a match for him.
He spent the time studying his old friends face. He wondered how there had been so much he had missed.
Jaskier hadn’t told him about his difficult childhood but then… Geralt had never asked.
Now he was finding he wanted to know more.
Yennifer popped back into the room, carrying herbs to break the curse. She set about crushing them and adding pieces to a bowl she’d placed on the floor beside Jaskier.
Jaskier took this time to start talking again.
“You really don’t have to do this,” Jaskier said, pushing his head as far back as it would go, but not being able to escape as Yen drew lines on his forehead. “Seriously, stop it. It’s not a curse- it’s just- it’s better- it’s-”
“It’s a curse,” Yen said, “and we’re getting rid of it.”
“No, please,” Jaskier jerked when Yen grabbed both sides of his face and closed her eyes. “I don’t want it back! I don’t want to be pathetic again!”
Pathetic. That wasn’t the first time Jaskier had described himself with that word… Geralt didn’t know where he’d gotten it from.
He hoped his old friend would let him see himself differently… let Geralt show him the way he saw the bard.
Geralt stood up when Yennifer stood back, her magic complete. Jaskier leaned forward, drool falling down his chest as he gasped for breath.
“No, no, no,” Jaskier moaned, his eyes squeezed shut. “I don’t want it!”
Yen placed a hand on his head again, and his breaths calmed, his body went lax. She took her hand away and turned to Geralt. “That’s all I can do, you’ll have to handle the rest.”
Geralt nodded, “how much-”
Yen waved a hand, “just don’t call me again, unless it’s urgent.” She looked at Jaskier once more, before she nodded her head in goodbye. “Until we meet again, Geralt.”
Then she was gone, and Geralt was left in the room with a quietly crying Jaskier. He knelt in front of the bard, untying him as quickly as he could. He caught him when Jaskier fell forward out of the chair.
Jaskier didn’t even react to him. He just kept gasping and shaking.
Not knowing what else to do, Geralt pulled the man to the bed. Jaskier curled into a tight ball as soon as Geralt placed him there, and, without thinking much about it, Geralt curled himself around him.
He held him until the shaking subsided. Until Jaskier was breathing normally again.
He didn’t let go, Jaskier pulled away.
The bard leaned against the bed frame, fruitlessly wiping the tears off his face. Geralt moved to lean beside him, handing the man a clean cloth.
“Thank you,” Jaskier whispered, using the cloth to blow his nose into. “You can leave now.”
Geralt frowned, “is that what you want?”
“It’s what-” Jaskier waved a hand, “you did your thing, you solved the problem, now you’ll be on your way. That’s what you do .”
“I’m not going anywhere,” Geralt said, leaning forward to catch his eye, “not without my bard.”
Jaskier looked at him, his mouth twisted downwards. “Geralt, I don’t want your pity. I don’t think I could take it.” His voice broke at the end. Geralt didn’t think he could take that, either.
“This is not pity,” Geralt said seriously, praying the man would believe him. “I told you I care about you, just moments ago.”
“But you love Yennifer-”
“I do,” Geralt nodded, “but I also love you ,” he pushed his hand against the bard’s chest. “It’s different, but the love is the same. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize… “
Jaskier frowned at him, “are you serious? You’re not just… saying this because-”
“I’m serious,” he pushed his hand more firmly against the other man’s chest, “I’ve thought about you every day since we parted ways. I’ve looked for you. I’ve stared up at the stars, wondering what you were doing, like an idiot. Jaskier, I’ve spent the last two years trying to find you to make up for my mistakes. I… I’m sorry I ever made you doubt me. But this is not pity. I do love you.”
From the look on Jaskier’s face, Geralt can tell he didn’t believe him. But then Jaskier started to yawn, and the Witcher sighed.
“Rest,” Geralt said, pulling Jaskier down into the bed again. “Maybe in the morning, you’ll believe me when I say I’m not leaving your side.”
Jaskier didn’t reply, but he did lean into Geralt’s touch as he soothed his hand down the bard’s side.
It was enough. For now.
--
The next day, Ciri and Geralt left the town behind them, heading back into the woods for another week’s journey.
Jaskier rode along beside them.
He smiled again. He sang and laughed like he used to, mostly with Ciri.
He still shot Geralt suspicious looks, still didn’t trust the Witcher to keep his word and stay by his side. Geralt was patient though. He was willing to prove Jaskier wrong, with time.
There was a darkness now, to his bard, that Geralt wasn’t sure had been there before. He worried that it had been, and he just hadn’t noticed.
But he was noticing now.
When he could see the darkness rearing its ugly head, Geralt made sure to stay close. To nudge Jaskier back to the present, if they were sitting beside each other in a tavern. To pull him close, if he was asleep.
To ride beside him and ask questions, and give honest answers in return, if they were traveling between places.
And when it was just the two of them… kiss him, until the darkness went away.
Jaskier always looked at him with gratitude, after it passed. No matter what method Geralt had used.
And at night, when Ciri was asleep, and they were alone. They stared up at the stars and talked.
And kissed.
And made love.
And Geralt held the man he loved in his arms, every night, both of them content.
--