A Witcher fic

[xt1me]

Full disclosure, I have not seen any of the Nexflix series of 'The Witcher'. Nor have I played any or the games nor read any of the books.
I stumbled across a fic on tumblr & fell down the rabbit hole.

I have learned the that the show runners never aged up the actor who plays Jasker simply because they forgot he wasn't immortal like the others.

There's bunch of 'immortal Jaskier' fics out there now so here's my one.
(I wish I could think of a better ending)

 

Geralt eyed Yennefer and Jaskier wearily. Both of them said that they were on friendly terms these days but that didn’t stop the catty remarks whenever they met.

“Why Bard, I must say whatever dye you use works wonders. You can’t see any grey hair at all.”

“Ha! I’ll have you know this is all natural. Besides, I’m sure whatever grey hair I’ll have will simply make me look more dashing in my elder years. Don’t you agree Geralt?”

“Hmm.”

Ignoring Geralt, Yennefer continued needling Jaskier. “You’re elder years? That’s not too long away surely.”

“Are you fishing sorceress?” he teased, “You don’t find me trying to work out your age. Besides, I stopped keeping track after I hit forty. Too depressing.”

“What?” Yennefer asked, startled. “You don’t look forty.”

“My dear, was that a compliment?” Jaskier batted his eyelashes at the sorceress.

“No.” she said flatly. “How old are you really Jaskier?”

“Ha, sounds like a complement to me. Admit it, you like me.”

Yennefer simply glared at the bard. Snorting, Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “It’s no great secret. I’m, humm, lets see,” he stared off into space, muttering slightly as he thought. “If that was last year… & that was 5 years before … and then…” He stopped, eyes blinking back into focus, “Wait a minute that’s not right. What year is it?”

Yennefer told him.

Silently he counted on his fingers.

“Oh hold on. I refuse to believe I’m sixty-two.”

“You’re joking.”

He counted it up again.

“Fuck. I’m sixty-two, when did that happen?”

“You mean to tell my you’ve never noticed you stopped aging.”

“Well nether of you noticed either!”

“I thought you were wasting your money on beauty products. And you can’t expect Geralt to pick up on something like that.”

“Hmm.”

“How did this happen?” Yennefer demanded.

“I don’t know!” yelped Jaskier.

“Did you drink any strange potions on any of your little adventures?”

“Now that’s a terrible thing to ask a person.”

“You can’t remember can you.”

“Well no, but I defy you to remember everything you’ve drunk in the past, apparently sixty-two years. Oh,” he said delightedly, “maybe I’m cursed.”

“You’re not cursed.” Sighed Geralt, “And it’s not magic, I’d know.” he gestured vaguely at his medallion, “Maybe you have elven blood or something.”

“It’s a nice thought but I’m afraid I look far too like both my parents for that to be true. Though I did used to pretend as a child.”

“Perhaps a grandparent?” mused Yennefer.

“Unlikely. I had to learn off the family history and let me tell you, that was a boring slog. Nothing even remotely interesting. And I have no interest in going back to the homestead to double check. I haven’t been home since my sister passed. You know,” he said thinking, “looking back that should have really clued me in to this lack of aging thing.”

Yennefer reached out and grabbed Jaskier’s head, ignoring his wild flailing.

“Oh stay still Bard and let me have a look.” She peered deeply into the bard, hands thrumming with power. “Humm not a curse, no unusual ancestry I can detect, but there’s something. It looks almost. Devine.” She let his Jaskier go narrowing her eyes at him. “Did you do any favours for the gods?”

“Religious orders are notoriously tight-fisted. Any Bard worth their salt never bothers with them. Let them stick with their choirs.” He said dismissively. Then a thought struck him. “But-” He drew out the word.

“So you did do something.” Yennefer prompted when it looked like Jaskier wasn’t going to continue fast enough.

“Well,” he said as he tried to tease out an old memory into the present, “there was something, quite a while back now. Nothing big. There was some festival or other in a village I was passing through. I thought I’d take some time to avail myself of the free food and provide some light entertainment. You know how sometimes local traditions have someone dressed up as a historical or mythical figure to lead the dance or give gifts or what not. Well, this one had someone dressed up as some local god. I can’t remember the name. They were incredibly gorgeous though. I remember they asked me what I’d liked as a blessing.”

“You didn’t.”

“I didn’t actually, I do remember all the trouble with the djinn. I might not have thought they were anything more than a local, but I wasn’t taking any risks. I simply asked to spend the night in their company. Did I mention they were gorgeous?”

“They? Were they a man or a woman?”

“Both, neither, I’m not sure what they were. It seemed rude to ask when there were far more interesting things to discuss. If you get my meaning?”

“You slept with them and you still don’t know. Just how dunk were you?”

“Not that drunk. But if you really want to know they had the most amazing-”

“Jaskier!” Geralt interrupted, not want to be subjected to yet another ode to some lover’s genitalia.

“Spoilsport.” but the bard thankfully continued with his tale, “I seem to remember them mentioning something about the gift of love requiring a gift in return but I admit to being somewhat distracted at the time.” He sighed, forlornly. “It really was a wonderful night.”

“Anyone else fucking a random stranger would end up with the pox. But somehow you end up with immortality.”

“Huh, I guess I did.”