#nevertheless i STILL don't have any dreamers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multi-fandom-simp · 1 year

Text

Ghost of you

Helaena Targaryen x Female!Reader (MAIN), Slight Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters. I do not claim any of them as my own. This work is purely fictional.

Synopsis: You and Helaena had been lovers in secret for years, peaceful and content lovers at that. What happens when the dance of dragons turns that peace into pain? Could you live with the burden of everything being torn from your grasp?

! TW !: Mention of character death. mention of blood, heavy drinking, brief mention of incest(between Helaena and Aemond, not the reader), mentions of murder, mention of suicide, self harm, hallucinations, bad mental health, angst ofc

(A/N: This a little blurb I had while listening to some music earlier, and I just had to write it down. It is based off of "Ghost of You" by 5SOS. It fit Helaena so well, I couldn't not write it. I've never done a writing centered around a song, so it was fun to experiment. As always, I love to hear your thoughts on the piece or even helpful criticism, so don't be shy, I always love to talk/listen! Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!)

(P.S. Dialogue will be in italics like always, but the song lyrics are in bold italics!)

Word Count: 1,267

You couldn't quite pinpoint the moment in which you fell head over heels for your husband's sister, Helaena Targaryen. Also known as the dreamer or the idiot as Aegon would disdainfully call her. She had been a constant part of your life from the moment you were betrothed to her brother, Aemond, up until now. Originally greeting you as a friend and soon-to-be sister, then turning into the very reason your heartbeat. Neither Aemond nor Aegon cared, in fact, the two of them preferred it. Aemond loved his sister in the same way you did, and Aegon didn't care what the three of you did as long as he could visit his whores. The pair of them still did their duty of course, as did you and Aemond.

Alysara and Alarys were the names that Helaena had gifted the first and only two children you would have with Aemond. In return, you had gifted similar names to her first two babes. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys had undoubtedly been Aegon's, but Maelor came as a result of Helaena's first night with you and Aemond. Though Aemond wasn't a bad father, you and your lover were mainly the ones raising the brood of Targaryen children. Almost as if it were only the two of you who had produced the small little family. If only it could've stayed that way forever.

~Here I am waking up, still can't sleep on your side

There's your coffee cup, the lipstick stain fades with time~

The blinding sun is what rouses you from your slumber rather than Helaena's airy whispers. It crawls through the corners of your eyes, forcing them to open, forcing them to stare at the wine chalice still left on the balcony's edge. You focus on the rose-colored imprint staining the edge of the glass, it's the same imprint that she often left on your cheek.

~If I can dream long enough, you'd tell me I'd be just fine

I'll be just fine~

You can almost see her, if you close your eyes slowly enough that is. The glare from the sun outlines Helaena's body as she bound towards the bed. Her wild ashen hair glimmers like whisps of wind and the laughter bubbling from her lips sounds like a handful of diamonds.

"You'll miss the sunrise, Issa jorrāelagon" My love. The moment she says those two words her image flickers. Her feet were now firmly planted on the edge of the balcony rather than the floor of it.

"Forgive me, Issa jorrāelagon" and just like that, the dream is over and Helaena is gone.

~So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house with the ghost of you~

Squeezing your eyes shut does nothing to erase the memory, but wine does. The scarlet poison is what drags you from bed on this morning, and every other morning as well. The wildfire that it sparks in your throat keeps the memories behind a wall of fire.

~And I chase it down, with a shot of truth

Dancing through our house with the ghost of you~

Between every swig and every gulp, there is a breath. A sharp, hiccupping breath that reminds you that you're still alive. You're alive and Helaena is not. The breath is drowned out with another swig and then another gulp. You repeat the cycle until you're no longer dancing alone in the sunlight.

"I'm here, Issa jorrāelagon" The smell of citrus and grass announces her presence. It drowns you better than wine does. Burning not only your throat but your heart too.

~Cleaning up today, found that old Zeppelin shirt

You wore when you ran away, and no one could feel your hurt~

You reached out to touch her, hold her, anything to know that she was real. The cotton of her dress no more than grazed your fingers before it was pooling with blood. It ran down your fingers like spilled wine.

"You're not here, not really" Another swig, another gulp, this time to choke down the sobs. Before you know it, the walls began to sway. You reach out for the bedpost only to meet the cold ground instead. The stone floor is unforgiving against your head.

~We're too young, too dumb, to know things like love~

Innocent giggles and the telltale sound of lips bounce off the walls, " I'd like to do that again."

"I can't deny a princess now can I?" You had sounded so young, so naïve, nothing like how you were now. The only thing remaining true throughout your growth was the unwavering loyalty to Helaena. Even in death your heart only answered to her.

"You'll be a princess once you marry Aemond-"

"-I'd much rather marry you." Perhaps things would've been different if you were allowed to love Helaena openly. You could've asked for her hand, married her, saved her from birthing Aegon's children. Saved her from losing them because they were Aegon's children.

~But I know better now, better now~

"It should've never been you" Your sobs were the only truthful thing at the moment. Your husband had been the one to kill Lucerys Velaryon, so why was it Helaena who lost her son and not you? She had loved both of your children as her own, but their loss would've never driven her to madness as Jaehaerys's death had.

A son for a son, and yet they had taken much more than that. It started with a son and then ended with a lover. They had even taken your husband from you. It didn't even matter if you truly loved him or not. The fact that he was gone and with Helaena in whatever afterlife there was felt like torture to you. Aemond should've been here to keep you from drowning, but he wasn't.

~So I drown it out like I always do

Dancing through our house with the ghost of you~

"Hurry, you'll miss the sunrise!" You pushed yourself up on trembling arms and tried to stand. You got a few inches from the ground before your knee crashed back down.

" I'm coming, birdy, I promise" The pads of your fingers broke open as you stumbled your way along the rough ground. Every push and pull more agonizing than the last, but it all vanished once you looked up. Helaena's feet padded softly as she twirled past you and over to the balcony where her cup still lay. She brought the chalice to her rose-colored lips, peering over the rim as she did so. Your heart stuttered as her eyes met yours.

"Wait for me," you wanted to scream. Instead, you pushed harder, even grabbing the walls for leverage. Push after pull, scrape after scuffle, you eventually reach your love, your Helaena.

~And I chase it down, with a shot of truth

Your hands reached for her once more, " You're here-"

That my feet don't dance like they did with you~

"-muña?" You stumbled forward against the balcony's railing, Helaena disappearing with the wind. You turned your head to find your oldest boy, Alarys, with Jaehaera by his side. Her little eyes were wide with fear as she observed you crumpled against the same balcony that she had watched her mother jump from. Jaehaera's eyes were like a douse of cold water as realization dawned on you. Looking down, your feet left trails of scarlet, your dress was torn in places, and most importantly, you were alone. You had not been dancing, you had been crawling. Helaena was never here.

You were doing nothing more than dancing with the ghost of her.

#hotd #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #helaena targaryen x reader #helaena x reader #helaena targaryen #hotd helaena #helaena imagine #helaena targaryen angst #hotd angst #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #angst #house of the dragon angst

100 notes · View notes

shadebloopnik · 26 days

Text

Angelic Alastor AU [Colored version heree]

"Some friends are personal Guardian Angels, don't you think?"

Only through centuries of practice did Alastor remain still, hands ever as graceful as it smoothened the picnic blanket under them.

"Whatever makes you say that, my dear?", he'd ask.

The curly haired woman hummed to herself, placing a finger on her chin in thought.

"Hmmmm, well it'd certainly explain what you are to me, don't you think? Why our very meeting came straight out of a novella! A poor damsel being saved from the maws of danger!"

Alastor chuckled at the other's dramatics, the woman having placed the back of her hand on her head, and flopping onto her back to the blanket below.

"I pulled you out of the way of a falling pot, not exactly fairytale material."

"Still!", the girl bounced back up, her curls threatening to slip out of her tie. "It counts Allie! And then you go on to accompany me and become my very best friend, imparting wisdom and guidance as I traverse this life. Guardian Angel I tell you!"

"Well, someone has to have proper common sense between the both of us.", Alastor would say. Madelaine had a good head on her shoulders, primarily a no-nonsense girl in the face of the cruel reality before her, but she was a idealist deep inside. A clever dreamer who always saw the good out of everything, even with hopeless things, like her so called mate. Alastor opted not to bring it up, remembering their numerous spats over her so called boyfriend and how he should "Give him a chance Allie! He's a sweetie just see!". Really, with how clever she was, she needed to have better taste in men, she's too good for that.

"Nevertheless Maddie, it warms my heart to know that i'm an angel in your eyes. Recognizing greatness as it is there's hope for you yet!", Alastor flashed her a teasing smile, a hand on his chest to exaggerated how touched he was.

"Hmmph! Certainly the most devilish one I've ever seen!", She giggles, and Alastor couldn't help but smile wider. Oh dear you have no idea how right you are.

"Devilish appetite perhaps, 'cause if you're not fast enough, I might just eat all these treats by myself." He positioned a hand on the basket, moving to grab at one of the beignets.

"Hey mister! I spent all morning on those honeybuns!!", she laughed, quickly swatting away his hands as she laid out their spread on the blanket. Allie always had a way of making her feel loose, free in a way that went beyond what was socially appropriate at the time. He didn't care for social proprieties, or gender roles, treating her as he would anyone. He acted above such frivolous things, as mysterious as he was charming. Eating pastries like this, enjoying the afternoon sun in a quiet spot at the edge of the woods, singing songs with her very best friend, there was nothing more she could ask for.

————————————

Sooooo, I can't just move past Alastor's canon mom and NOT include her in this AU- im weak okay- and I figured he'd need to have some human influence anyway for the whole radio thing.

Alastor ends up being pretty depressed and a shut-in in heaven when the two fell. Most didn't see him for weeks or months at a time. Sometime(not sure abt the timeline yet) he ends up frequenting Earth in secret a lot. He ends up meeting Madelaine, or Maddie for short.

He becomes her best friend, encouraging her free spirit, and enjoying her company, making him genuinely smile and laugh for the first time in centuries. He learns a lot on human things from her, picking up the love for radio from her as well. Its also because of her that he stuck around a lot in the human world around that time, meeting others like Mimzy as well.

Maddie thinks Allie(the name he chose to adopt), is a bit weird. He doesn't seem to fully grasp some social cues, and thinks himself above expected roles. He doesn't treat her any different despite her background and gender(in fact he never seemed to mention it at all???). He helps her with her hair, and dresses, and lets her go loose without ever mentioning how odd it was. She loves all his little quirks, even if she thinks it odd(like how he doesn't ever look any older)

37 notes · View notes

spacecadetspe · 2 months

Text

A snippet from last year…

Feb. 15, 2023

Fortitude has been very quiet the past couple of days. I can't say I blame him; neither of us have slept well, and what's worse, the tension in the apartment is unbearable.

Ever since we got Skofnung, Phobetor has been bedridden. Helping Hermes process the 129 berserkers in the sword took a massive toll on him. I've sent him energy where I'm able, but such donations have been few and far between. I'm still getting nightly visits, and wake up with horrible aches and pains.

Morpheus is of the mind that I have been "dreaming recklessly," but the truth is I can't remember my dreams, lately. It's increasingly possible that he means I need to take precautions before going to bed. After all, I'm not an ordinary dreamer, and my soul tends to wander pretty freely at night.

He and Njorun have been working on an antidote to Phobetor's "hangover," as Njorun calls it, including, of all things, fly agaric. If it weren't for use by an oneiros, I'd have serious qualms about using it. Nevertheless, we took the medicine to the Nightmare Cliffs and administered it to my beloved general, who immediately flew into a mindless rage and tried to escape. It was then that I called Ekibyou to help process his mindscape, since I don't think anyone in that room was qualified. I don't think any of us could handle the level of horror that exists in his mind.

Fortitude left to retire, and that was the last I heard from him for awhile. He's said very little, and I'm not sure what I can say to make it better... or maybe I'll just make it worse, and I couldn't handle that.

L seems to think that my creativity could benefit from some spontaneity. She suggested that I schedule some time for myself to write or draw or something to get me creative again, but I still found it was difficult to get back on track. So, once we went to bed, I lay down and tried to do some EMDR on my own.

It's different than it is when I have a guide like L walking me through. I have to come up with pertinent questions to ask myself, and I have to focus on the feeling objectively, which is... fucking hard. In this case, I focused on the tension in my shoulders and the tightness in my chest. What was I afraid of?

"I'm afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing."

Why?

"Because I don't want to get snapped at again."

We still care if people snap at us?

"Well... the people who matter to us, anyway."

I get it; nobody likes to be snapped at. But we do get stuff wrong sometimes, you know, and the people we love have to have a way to express that to us.

"I understand that. I don't have any desire to control anyone. But 'snapping' at me makes me feel like I should be some other way than I am."

Where is this coming from?

"Oh, geez... there are too many instances. Like when Surtr got mad at me."

We... completely lost track of who we are that time, didn't we?

"Yeah. He put us back together and apologized, but it was still pretty memorable. And that time Fortitude snapped..."

I get it. When people express harsh displeasure with us, it makes us question who we are and what we do... Wait... is this why we're having such a hard time being creative again? I mean... it's been almost a year.

"Yeah. Every time it happens, we change a little bit about ourselves, trying not to make waves, trying to keep our loved ones from getting mad at us again."

We can't keep doing this, though. We saw how much X did it, and how much of an effect it had on us. We literally almost died.

"It's not just people getting mad, though. It's the sharp, accusatory words that make me feel like they wish I could be different. I can't deal with that."

Nor should you. But we can't change that people are going to do it. So what do we do with all this fear?

"I just want it to go away."

Well, Fortitude suggested we try our hand at a sigil for "peace." We could try that.

"I would have to understand peace first."

It's hard to do when we're in pain all the time, being pursued by a nearly tireless assailant.

I cried softly until I fell asleep, and despite activating my sigils, I still woke up with cuts and bruises... and missing a section of my right ring finger. Something has got to give.

#mythology and folklore #dreams #spicy psychology #magic #trauma #tw abuse #shadow work

0 notes

dhwty-writes · 3 years

Text

Goodbyes

We’re almost done! Part 6 of @heyabooboo‘s gift for @thewitchersecretsanta.

I'M SORRY! I know it was mean to end the last chapter like that, but I couldn't resist. I won't keep you waiting any longer, here's the second to last chapter:

Summary: Jaskier has lost the Game of Fools. Before he says goodbye forever, he asks for one last favour.

Moodboard by the amazing @petrificustotaluss

Warnings: references to depression

Read on AO3

'It truly is the softest silk,' he thought as the white robes settled on his body. 'The chains are a bit heavy, though I suppose shackles are meant to be.' Maybe he could bargain to be relieved of those later. He had a lot of time, now.

He blinked his eyes open to see he had traded places with Geralt. He was kneeling at the deity's feet while the witcher stood before him; bloodied and bruised, his hair a matted mess, clad in black leather. "Jaskier," he whispered, disbelievingly.

Slowly, a smile spread on his face. "There," he said softly. "That's better."

"What- no! What is happening?" Furious, he turned to the deity, all the docile tranquillity that now settled in Jaskier's mind gone, replaced with outrage, disbelief, fear. "We made a deal," his voice was quivering uncharacteristically. "You said you'd leave them be as long as I'd stay. You said you wouldn't lay a finger on him!"

There was something strange about Geralt's statement, something that Jaskier's clouded mind couldn't quite grasp. "It's alright," he promised just as the deity answered: "We did. Until he offered a better one. I might be a god, but he chose this fate and there is nought that I can do. Just as little as you. There is no entity stronger than the own free will of a man. He will stay until the day that he completes the task."

Jaskier blinked slowly. That might be the most the deity had said to him since his arrival. "Task?" he echoed weakly. When had talking become so hard? "What task?"

"Funny that you should ask." They carded their fingers through his hair and he couldn't help but lean into the touch. It still burned, though not as much as when he had touched them before. "I already told you," they soothed. "Follow the rules, that's all you have to do."

"Free will or not," Geralt growled, "I am not about to accept this. It is my own free will to say that I am staying. Let him go."

"I can't," they answered simply, "and I shan't. Your soul belongs to me no more, that's what he is paying for. It was won, fair and square. You can go, he'll be fine within my care."

"No!" he insisted and stepped forward, one hand already going for the sword.

They held up their hand in warning. "Go ahead and draw your sword," they said, almost sounding amused, "and you'll end up where you were before. With no-one to save you anymore. Your freedom was won, so go on: leave."

Helpless, Jaskier watched as the witcher growled and narrowed his eyes and the deity raised their hand, lighting curling around it. He had to do something. "Wait!" he blurted and leapt to his feet before he even knew what he was doing. Both of them turned to him. "I— I should be granted a favour, I believe."

Geralt's brows knit together in confusion, but the deity only chuckled. "And why is that?"

"For putting up a fight."

They crossed their arms defiantly, but at least the lightning stopped. "Alright. Ask your favour, then."

"I won't see him again," it wasn't a question. "This is no realm that welcomes him. I— May I say my farewell? There's... one last truth I need to tell."

Suddenly, their expression softened. "Be my guest."

Carefully, and with shaking knees Jaskier inched towards Geralt. He was half expecting the deity to withdraw their permission halfway there, but then he was standing next to his witcher and being pulled into a tight embrace. He almost forgot to breathe and was gasping for air once Geralt released him again. Though that might also be attributed to the sobs shaking his body.

"I'm sorry," he whispered quietly enough that he hoped that the deity couldn't hear them. Those were very slim hopes, however.

"Don't be," Geralt lied, "it's not your fault."

Jaskier's heart clenched. 'Only that it is.' It was him who had been foolish enough to enter into this world. Who had been foolish enough to challenge a god. Foolish enough to think he could win. 'It was always going to end like this.'

"Jaskier," he said insistently, "Jaskier, look at me." Slowly, he raised his gaze to comply. "I won't leave you here to your demise. I will come back for you and I will get you out of here. You know that right, you—"

"No," he shook his head adamantly. "No, Geralt, please don't—"

But the witcher didn't hear him, and if he did, the selective deafness stroke again: "I won't let them take you away from me, do you understand that? You just need to be a bit patient, alright? Wait for me."

"I won't," he replied with a steadier voice than he would have thought possible.

"Jaskier—"

"Shh, Geralt." He put a finger over his witcher's lips to shut him up. "We don't have much time. Just once in your life I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

"Just—"

"Can you do that?" he asked again, more insistently this time. Geralt nodded slowly and Jaskier wet his lips with his tongue nervously. "When I came here, I was fully aware that this outcome was an option," he began explaining quietly. “Not my preferred one, of course, but an option nevertheless. I wouldn't have entered this world if I hadn't been willing to bear the consequences."

He breathed in and out shakily. "I am more than willing to stay if it means that you walk free. If you— If you want to help me, there's one thing you can do."

"Anything," Geralt said. It sounded so desperate that for one moment Jaskier could imagine that he knew the extent of such a promise. So desperate that for one moment he almost regretted what he had done.

'Focus,' he told himself. He was doing this for Geralt, after all. "I need you to wake up. I need you to go back to your sorceress and your child surprise, your brothers and your friends, all the people you love. And then—" He gulped. "And then I need you to forget about me. Do not come back. Do not bargain for my release. Do not go looking for a cure, for there is none. I will return when my time is done, and maybe if the fates are kind, you and I will meet again."

"But—"

"No buts, Geralt. If you have any respect for me and our friendship, do as I say. Don't you dare waste what I just gave you. Don't you dare trade your soul for mine again, don't you dare waste your life with grief. Did I make myself clear?"

"Yes."

"Good." Jaskier nodded, his whole body trembling. "Good. One more thing. There's something I... have for you. A parting gift, if you will. One last song, if you will have it."

"I... I will. Always."

Jaskier nodded and pulled him down to his knees with him. He'd rather do that in a position where he might not be in danger of collapsing spontaneously. His lute appeared in his hands, his fingers settling on the strings as if it was as natural as breathing. He plucked the first notes, breathed in and— hesitated.

"Fuck," he cursed quietly. 'I can't do it, I can't—' It was the one song he had written that never was supposed to be heard. The one song he had only dared to compose when he was overcome with heartache and grief, incapable of keeping all those feelings inside without combusting. The one song that was nowhere to be found, not a single line written on so much as a scrap. And now he was supposed to sing it to the last person who was ever supposed to hear it?

"Jaskier," Geralt said sheepishly, almost ashamed, "I lied."

That was enough to snap him out of his spiralling thoughts. "What?!" What on earth was that damned moron talking about now? Jaskier was having an existential crisis, thank you very much, and—

"I lied," he said again. "So many times. Your singing is no annoyance, no fillingless pie. I love it and I do not yet know how I shall lead a life without it. Without you. Please. Don't be afraid of me."

Somehow, that was all it took. "Never," he promised. He could only hope that Geralt knew the truth of that statement. From the first moment he had seen him in that shitty tavern in Posada, Jaskier could never imagine to be afraid of him, witcher or not. And how could he be? How could he fear a man as fiercely loyal and stubbornly kind as Geralt?

'I'm not afraid of you,' he wanted to tell him, but Geralt, as a witcher, as the Butcher of Blaviken, was feared by so many people. He couldn't allow him to believe for even a moment that Jaskier even thought about doing so himself. And so, there was nothing to be done but sing:

"I found you when you were so lonely

And I was on my own as well.

In spite of your nature, you took me in your heart,

Now I’ve got this story to tell.

I could hear the song of our heartbeats.

Within but an hour I knew

That I will love you ‘til the end of all time.

Each day I fall for you anew.

For you I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

A monster is roaming the forest,

I laugh as I hear a wolf howl.

No devil of hell is bloodcurdling or fright’ning,

They all fear the White Wolf’s growl.

A demon they call you; I don’t care

‘bout that or if you love me.

My heart’s yours to keep, for better or worse

Your side is where I choose to be.

My friend, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

Your first laugh was brighter than sunshine.

When you laughed I did nearly faint.

But our life is not made of innocent pleasure,

Not this peaceful picture I paint.

I’m cursed, for I fell for a wand’rer.

Your Path is so ruthless and long.

I’m twice cursed for my fate is that of a dreamer

I blink, and I turn, and you’re gone.

My dear, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

Now I wander through the dark wasteland

At the hour of loneliness

No moon, star, or sun to cast but a mere beam

As I long for your soft caress.

A wealth of truths I failed to confess

In all of the poems you’ll miss.

The Path’s taking you far and farther afield

While I’m dreaming of your sweet kiss.

My heart, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

I sob as I curl up on my cot.

Without you my camp is too bare.

My terror’s my pillow, despair is my blanket;

I’m wishing that you were still there.

I fear this time you won’t come back here

You’ve fallen into the abyss.

I wonder if I should have bid you farewell

With that accursed ill-fated kiss.

My love, I’ll always wait

Although chance might tear our Paths asunder.

Against the whims of fate,

I will wait while you wander.

Dear heart, I’ll always wait.

I swear I’ll always stay."

Jaskier gasped quietly as the song ended. His head spun and his breath came raggedly as if he had forgotten to breathe throughout his performance. Maybe he had. Still, he wiped at the tears on his cheeks, put on a brave smile and asked: "Well? How about a review? Three words or less."

"Hmm." Geralt was frowning deeply, his expression so clouded with a whirlwind of emotions that not even Jaskier had the slightest idea what was going on in his head. Then, finally, he said: "It's not true."

"What is not true?" he meant to ask. But before such words could leave his mouth, he was silenced by Geralt's lips. Taken aback by the sudden motion, he tensed up. 'Salty,' was his first thought, 'and wet.' Was Geralt crying, too? He could scarcely believe it. Geralt had told him witchers couldn't cry. But he'd also told him they couldn't blush, the liar.

A hand slipped into his hair, carding softly through it, while Geralt snaked an arm around his waist and— 'Oh,' he realised belatedly, 'Geralt is kissing me.' It took him a moment to process that shock before he remembered that kisses were supposed to be a two-man-act and that he should probably start kissing Geralt back.

'Great gods,' he thought, 'I can kiss Geralt back!' With a desperate whine he let his lute drop to the ground, for once uncaring for the consequences—this was a paranormal netherworld that existed beyond what any mortal could grasp with its mind, after all, he doubted the lute would mind—and looped his arms around Geralt's neck to pull him in tight. Because after years of endlessly seemingly unrequited pining he was finally allowed to.

And now all he got was one farewell kiss.

After what felt like an eternity, they pulled apart. "It's not true," Geralt said again. "You make it sound like I don't love you as well, and that's not true. I love you, Jaskier. It scares me, but I do, more than you can imagine."

"Oh. I love you, too." He kissed him again. If only he had known that earlier. That would have changed everything. Only that it wouldn't have. Geralt still would have entered into the ruin. Jaskier still would have followed him to the netherworld. He still would have lost. They still would have been doomed to spend their lives apart.

"Your time is up," the deity commanded with a booming voice.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said again. "Farewell, my love," he whispered and kissed him one last time. "Don't wait for me."

Thunder roared.

He blinked.

He found himself looking eye to eye at the deity, who stared down at their chest in disbelief. "Thank you," they whispered as if they couldn't quite understand what was going on either. Lightning cracked like a whip. They groaned and sank to one knee. Jaskier surged forward to keep them from falling, but he wasn't fast enough.

Thunder roared. Wind surged up, mingling with the darkness receding from their body.

He blinked.

The shackles disappeared around his wrists and fell to the ground. "What—"

"Jaskier!" Geralt yelled, trapped on the other side of an impenetrable wall of storm clouds and lightning. "What's happening?"

"It hurts," they whimpered curling in on themself. "Please, it hurts so bad."

"What does?" Jaskier asked. "Tell me, how can I help you?"

An agonised scream escaped their lips. "My heart," they sobbed. Thunder roared again. A deep crack appeared on the grey, stony surface of their chest. "It's breaking again." The stone splintered further. The light filtering through the rifts was almost blinding. Not angry lightning, but soft, soothing sunlight.

"No," he said softly. "You're starting to feel again."

"I'm hurting!" they disagreed, their voice almost drowned out by the thunder of another crack appearing. "Don't you see? How can that be better than feeling nothing at all?"

"It will get better," Jaskier promised because there was nothing else, he could think of to say. "It hurts, but it will get better." And then, because apparently, he had lost his sanity somewhere in the netherworld, he surged forward and pulled them into a tight hug.

Thunder roared and the first wave of pain punched the air from his lungs. "Great gods," he wheezed. The trials had been barely a pinch in comparison. Still, he refused to let go.

"What are you doing?" they sobbed, uselessly shoving at his shoulders. "I'm hurting you." As if that would get him to let go. He was as stupid as a turd and as stubborn as a mule with no sense of self-preservation, after all. And he knew exactly how they felt. The emptiness. The numbness. The nothing. And the heartbreak, the agony when the stone encasing your heart finally crumbled away.

"I know," he said, pigheadedly holding them even tighter. "But alone you're hurting even more." He squeezed them and heard the stone crack again. "It will be over soon. It will be better."

Thunder roared. Lightning flared. They both cried and sobbed in unison.

He blinked.

The storm died and the wall of darkness around them dropped. Above the sun had reached its zenith, the sickly orange washed away.

He blinked.

He was lying on the ground, his sweat-soaked hair plastered against his forehead and breathing heavily. When he stretched out his hand, he could feel the deity's next to his. "You did it," he whispered and grasped their fingers. Their touch was pleasant and warm, like a ray of sunshine after a cold spring day.

"No," they answered. "You did." They fought themself to their feet.

Jaskier's breath hitched. They were even more beautiful than before. Their body was still engulfed in swirling mist and snow, their skin still the same tan colour. But instead of darkness shrouding them, they were glowing now. Not with violently flashing lightning, but a soft reddish glow. 'Like the sky eternally stuck in sunset.' Their long hair floated behind them as if they were surrounded by water instead of air. And in their chest where the grey expanse of stone had been, was now a swirling sphere of golden light. They tilted their head to the side, their eyes sparkling kindly.

"Jaskier!" his attention was diverted by Geralt looming over him with a worried look on his face. "Are you alright? Talk to me, Jaskier, what happened."

"I'm fine," he croaked and let him pull him to his feet, leaning heavily on him, "I think."

"You are free to go," the deity answered in his stead, "if you wish so."

Geralt's grasp on his waist tightened at that. "I am?" Jaskier asked, confused. "But I lost."

"No, you paid the cost," they insisted and bowed their head. "With your song you freed me from my throne. A song to melt a heart of stone."

"I did? I didn't know."

"And maybe it's better so. Go now, both of you. Wake up, but be careful as you do. You are safe within this world, but on the journey back you're on your own. You'll have to find your way alone. Do not get lost."

Jaskier pried Geralt's arm away, to manage a deep bow. "Thank you," he said, earnestly grateful, "for your advice. And for keeping your word."

They smiled. "I might be a dreamer, coward, and a fool, but I am not a liar, too. Enjoy your freedom."

"We will," he promised and turned to Geralt. "Come on, love. It's time. Let's go home."

Geralt frowned darkly. "How do we do that?"

Jaskier chuckled. "Of course, you wouldn't understand," he mumbled with fond adoration. Geralt opened his mouth to say something, but Jaskier was faster: "It's easy," he promised. "As easy as breathing." He put his hand over Geralt's eyes. "Close your eyes," he instructed him. "Take a deep breath. Just like you taught me." He waited until his witcher's breathing evened out. "Good. And now, love, imagine waking up."

Geralt heaved another breath. Jaskier kissed him on the lips. "I'll be with you in just a moment," he promised.

He blinked.

“Jaskier,” the deity said softly. Geralt was gone and Jaskier found himself alone in an empty garden with a deity. He turned around to them.

“He’s gone,” he whispered, relieved.

“He is. You showed him how.”

He gnawed on his lip, nervously. "Could Geralt have left at any time? Is this a prison of his design?"

They hummed thoughtfully, contemplating that question. "It is and it's not. He owed me, after all. But after paying his price, yes, he could have left." They sighed. "But," the deity continued, "he couldn't have."

"He could have never imagined," Jaskier whispered.

"No," the Deity said softly, then scrunched up their nose. "Are you certain it's him you want? You can do so much better than that."

"No," Jaskier answered with a dreamy smile. "I can't imagine that."

"Such words from you. I wouldn't have thought it possible." They smiled. "I have a question for you, too, flower, one answer that finally is due. Say it, friend, do not be shy, so this chapter finally can end. Tell me, who am I?"

He thought for a short while before answering: "I thought you were the patron of dreams, but here nothing is quite like it seems. Who you are, you want to know? You are who you create yourself to be. Just like I. Fate's around our necks like a noose, but what matters in the end is what we choose. I am not who I have been, nor am I who still will come. Reality will bow to your whim, and to mine, until I am gone. We are who we create, deity or not, we share the same fate."

"So, you do understand," they said, a satisfied smile spreading on their face. "From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew you were divine as well."

"I am," Jaskier agreed, understanding. "You are not alone."

"Neither are you. There is a witcher waiting for you."

He smiled. "And I will go to him in just a moment," he promised, "but… What about you? What will happen when I’m gone?”

"You go back to your life," they answered with a sad smile, "I go back to mine. It will be fine."

"It won't." He frowned. "You will be lonely again."

"If that's Fate's will, so be it then."

He huffed. "I did not just bear the brunt of your pain only for it to happen all over again. What will you do when I'm not around anymore? What will you do when you turn to stone again?"

They laughed weakly and shook their head. "Your concern is cute, but uncalled for. Not even a god lives long enough to turn to stone twice in their life."

"Not even a god?" he frowned. "Can it happen to mortals, too?"

"Worry not, my flower dear," they replied. "You're not in danger here. Humans might grow still, but they die before they petrify. As will I, once the loneliness returns."

“In that case, friend, I have one last offer to present. A priest you want, you say?" He bowed with a flourish. "It would be my highest honour to take on that duty for you. I might not pray or know how to raise a temple But I can make people believe in you. I can make people imagine."

"That you can," they agreed. "The honour would be mine, priest." They held up their hand. "Before you go. Might you show me what you've created?"

"Of course. Come and look your fill."

He blinked.

There was a wooden door hovering in the air over the wintery garden. He turned the doorknob and stepped aside to let the deity peer through, but not before sneaking a glance as well.

The lake was still there, and it was still winter, too. But instead of the playing children there was a cottage on the shore, with a bench overlooking the scenery. On it sat an elderly couple, leaning against each other and smiling.

They smiled. "It's beautiful."

"Thank you. If you want it, it belongs to you. Talking flowers, birds, and all."

They giggled. It sounded strange out of their mouth, strange and familiar at once. "I should have known I'd find that in your world. I look forward to visiting."

"And I look forward to returning," Jaskier answered. "Invite us again once our days on earth are done. We will come."

"Once the day of both your deaths arrives, I will. But ‘till then I’ll stand guard, so that none without the other parts. So now: farewell."

He was hesitant almost when he said: "I shall be taking my leave."

"You shall. Good riddance, priest."

Jaskier stood and turned. "It was an honour meeting you," he said and bowed deeply. "Farewell, Nehaleni."

The deity looked almost surprised for a moment, but Jaskier was already imagining.

He blinked.

#my writing #For You I'll Always Wait #FYIAW #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #geraskier fanfiction #the witcher fanfiction #geraltxjaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher secret santa

6 notes · View notes