Relationships: Dara & Fringilla Vigo, Dara & Filavandrel aén Fidháil, Dara & Francesca Findabair | Enid an Gleanna, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon & Dara
Characters: Dara (The Witcher), Fringilla Vigo, Francesca Findabair | Enid an Gleanna, Filavandrel aén Fidháil, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, Iorveth (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach
Additional Tags: Dara-centric (The Witcher), POV Dara, Prince Dara, Dara is just about done with the Continent's bullshit he'd like a nap please, Worldbuilding, implied Jaskier/Iorveth, cause it amuses me, Fringilla is going to be having too much fun :)
Summary:
“It’s not about if you can fight,” Francesca hissed, dragging Dara down the hallway, “It’s about the royal line. I haven’t heard further news on Filavandrel’s condition and I have to defend the people here. If something happens to us…you are all that’s left, Dara.”
He felt tears at the corners of his eyes.
“I can’t leave you to die,” Dara said.
“You don’t have a choice,”
_______________________________________________________________________
When Ciri spoke of her own destiny Dara stayed quiet. He knew the burdens of a heavy legacy all too well, after all, he had taken the same actions as Ciri. A Royal Heir on the run, trying to stay anonymous. The one difference was, Dara had been playing the role of runaway so long, he fell into the role like a cloak, the fear like a scarf wrapped around his neck.
But with his capture by Redania and a dangerous mission set by Philippa Eilhart herself, Dara is realizing that the time for masks is over. That despite his uncertainty he will need to take up the mantle of Prince again. Not only to save himself but to save the people of Xin'trea.
I know!! I’m finally posting another fic, this one, in particular, is a VERY late entry to @beyondthecontinent. I’d like to thank my friend @brothebro for the lovely art accompanying this fic and I will be hopefully posting more of this fic in the not too distant future!!
I figured it’s about time there was more Dara-centric long fic in this fandom and I’m excited to have finally gotten the chance to write some! I cannot thank Bro enough for inspiring this fic with their amazing art and always being there throughout the process even when it’s been a struggle.
I love the idea of Geralt not giving a shit about gender. He will walk into a village and people will use he and identify him as a man but it feels no different to him than, say, getting your hair color wrong or slightly mispronouncing your name. Sometimes, it’s just easier not to correct people.
Overtime, Jaskier notices Geralt never refers to himself as a man, never really uses pronouns when talking about himself. So one night, a little tipsy, he leans over and asks Geralt, “It has come to my attention that gender for you seems more of an optional quest.”
Geralt looked at him and rolled his eyes, “in many ways.” He said.
Jaskier turned a bit red, took a deep breath and then said, “Ah. Yes. Well. Good for you. That’s lovely. Gender is constraining at the best of times. Ummm might I ask. Well, is there anything particular you’d like me to use in reference to you. Also, how on earth did you know —? Never mind.”
Geralt listens to Jaskier’s disjointed mutters and then laughs. A deep laugh that echoes in Jaskier’s ears.
“Jaskier,” Geralt said, clapping Jaskier on the back, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you refer to me as. When your body is mutated against your will as a child, twisted and reformed into something completely new. Gender isn’t something at the top of your kind anymore. I’m not a man, not a woman but I am a Witcher. I know that. I don’t particularly care what humans refer to me as.”
Jaskier looks at Geralt, hesitation in his eyes, “But I’m no ordinary human,” he said.
Geralt turned to him, firelight in his eyes, “No. You are not. Just call me Geralt.”
Then Geralt turned back to the fire and the two settled into companionable silence. Geralt just a touch more relaxed.
The first time Jaskier says it, the words come tumbling out of his mouth in a rush, caught between sentences and barely noticeable. It's been more years than Jaskier would care to admit since he saw the Wolf Witcher. It seems as if Geralt is still want to avoid him outside of their necessary interactions. Jaskier can never fully stop the twinge of hurt every time Geralt rejects Jaskier's offer to stay a little longer, to travel the path alongside him - wouldn't it be grand to truly have a companion?
So when Jaskier hears of a Witcher near Rinde with white hair, well it isn't too far out of his way to head to the town, leaving his supplies at an inn and heading to the river where the rumors led him. When he finally sees Geralt his heart jumps a bit in his chest and words begin to leave his mouth before he can even fully process what he is saying.
"Geralt! Hello. What's it been, months? Years? What is time, anyway?"
No response follows his statement so Jaskier pushes forward, "I heard you were in town. Are you following me, you scamp? I mean, I'm flattered and everything, but you should really think about getting a hobby one of these days."
Then, finally, a noise of displeasure from Geralt and they fall into their routine of Jaskier making witty statement as Geralt pretends not to listen.
It all goes to hell in a handbasket when the djinn is released. Jaskier forgets all about his singular statement on time and is instead focused on the much more present problems in front of him. There was one benefit to his near-death experience. After the fact, Geralt, whether out of guilt or a desire to watch over the danger-prone bard, agreed to let Jaskier travel the path with him.
Instead of random meetings and separate inns, Jaskier began to travel alongside Geralt. They would camp in the woods in-between towns and stay in the same room at whatever inn they chose for the night. It gave Jaskier a sense of pride to finally be considered Geralt's travel companion.
By this point, he had already known Geralt for nearly ten years and he was no longer a wide-eyed youth of 18 but at 28 he was still a young man, full of excitement and dreams of grandeur. The way Jaskier saw it, 28 was a fine time to pick the final trajectory of his life, he couldn't imagine any other path for himself than right by Geralt's own.
And with the shift in their traveling methods came a shift in their relationship. On Jaskier's end, he could never tell what the final straw was. One too many nights moving closer next to a fire or one too many rooms with just one bed or maybe even one too many times that Geralt would move his hand as if reaching out to Jaskier only to take it away again. Whatever the reason, one day Geralt captured Jaskier's lips in a kiss and their companionship became something even more meaningful.
Now, after nearly twenty years together, Jaskier sits at Kaer Morhen and look at Geralt, still the same as the day they met. Meanwhile, Jaskier has a twinge in his right knee that flares up whenever he walks up a set of stairs and a back that cracks like a fire whenever he gets out of bed in the morning. Every year there's new lines on his face and more hair on his bedsheets. He wonders how much longer he can follow Geralt on the path.
He's getting slower.
When he was young, he brushed off his inability to keep up with Geralt on his inexperience. However, after years of following the Witcher, he had found that he didn't tire even after walking for miles a day and he adjusted to the lifestyle. Now, as he grew older, he couldn't keep up because he grew tired faster and a bruise would last for weeks instead of days.
He couldn't confide in Geralt. He was sure the Witcher would offer to retire but Jaskier couldn't stand the thought. Geralt, sitting my his bedside as he slowly grew older and less able to follow on any sorts of adventures. Geralt, a hero who he would chain to his bedside with his own feelings of ineptitude.
Jaskier ran his fingers over the rings on his left hand, noticing the callouses that had formed over the years.
His musing were interrupted by Vesemir taking a seat next to Jaskier, "Lost in thought?" the older witcher says, not for many words.
"Have any of you ever had humans partners?" Jaskier asks.
Vesemir is silent for a moment before answering, "Some of us."
"And -- what happens, what happens as they grow older, as they are able to be by your side less?"
"You forget boy, that while our bodies might not age, our minds certainly do. The older humans get, the closer they get to matching our life experience. For a Witcher, a aged partner is a more relatable partner. Once --- well I've been in love many times but there was a woman, I knew her as children and by the time we met again she had grandchildren. I loved her the same when we were young as well she had the years on her face."
Jaskier lets out a small chuckle, "I suppose it makes sense, that Witchers would see time and age differently than the rest of us."
For some inexplicable reason, he feels his throat getting choked up thinking about leaving Geralt behind eventually, no matter how natural the process. He struggles to continue talking but says in a weak voice, "What is time, anyways?"
Then Vesemir stands up, clasping Jaskier on his shoulder as he begins to walk away and saying, "Everything."
Then Jaskier is left in front of the fire watching it slowly burn down and he doesn't move until he feels the arms of Geralt wrap around his from behind and he turns to capture a kiss from the man.
"Are you ready to come to bed?" Geralt asks, apropos of nothing.
Jaskier sighs and gets up, "It is getting late and I believe you said we have an early morning?"
Geralt shrugged, "It's nothing urgent, you could sleep into the late morning if you'd like."
"But there's so much to work on."
"Don't worry we have time."
Jaskier's face falls at Geralt's words and he turns his gaze down, looking away, "Time."
Geralt can hear heartbeats. When he’s in a crowd of people it gets overwhelming. He hears the thump, thump, thump of dozens of hearts seemingly beating out of each human’s chest. A Witcher’s heart beats so slow. When he’s with his brothers and father in the keep he doesn’t have to hear the rabbit-paced patter of a human heart but in the world of man it is just another sound he has grown far too accustomed to hearing.
When he traveled alone, he bore this burden with a quiet sigh and quick trips to his room. Then, he began traveling. First with Jaskier then with Yennefer and Ciri. He had constants on the path for the first time in a long time.
He recognizes their heartbeats. He first noticed it in a small tavern in Novigrad. Geralt was breathing deeply in and out in an attempt to stay calm and push the heartbeats of everyone outside his mind. Then, one heartbeat in particular called to him, it seemed familiar. He let himself hone in on it, focusing on the rhythmic thumping noise and it wasn’t until he opened his eyes he noticed it was Jaskier. By focusing on the sound of Jaskier’s heartbeat, Geralt was able to push the other sounds away and become just a little less overstimulated.
It’s how he always knows when Yennefer is near because her heartbeat calls to Geralt from across the room and he knows the sound she carries in her chest and he never wants to forget it. Sometimes, in battle, Geralt uses his senses to check on Yennefer’s heartbeat, make sure she’s alive and healthy. It’s how he knows when she is lying and how when he she says “I have to leave” it carries a sense of regret.
Ciri’s heartbeat is how Geralt truly knew that she was his child surprise. Because when he walked into that field and saw that girl standing across the trees he could hear her heart beating out of her chest and Geralt knew without question this was his child. He had heard that heartbeat in his dreams for years.
Walking the path with Jaskier, Yennefer and Ciri, Geralt comes to know their heartbeats and it sounds like home.
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