The Sweetest Poison by AvoidingAverage
rating Mature / wc 5630 / notes hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining
“And what do you want in return? Your freedom? Your safety?”
Jaskier didn’t flinch from her scorn and Geralt could see his knuckles go white with the force of his grip around the small vial. “Save him.”
The mage stared at him for a beat before letting out a burst of laughter that echoed off the wall like the flutter of vultures wings. “All this trouble for the Witcher?” she asked incredulously, “Tell me, boy, do you really think he would do the same for you? That he cares at all what happens to the bard who follows after him like a lost puppy?” She stepped forward, confident as a soldier preparing his death blow. “Oh, I know who you are, bard. I watched you trailing after the Witcher, eager for every scrap of affection or interest he’ll toss your way. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”
Jaskier was breathing heavily now, jaw clenched tight enough that Geralt could see the muscles fluttering with effort.
“Were you hoping this ill-conceived rescue mission would be enough to make him finally notice you?” she murmured with a mocking smile, “Poor little bard--always singing of love but never truly experiencing it.”
