Jaskier has started referring to the parts of his life as pre-dragon hunt and post-dragon hunt. He doesn’t like to refer to the actual incident because he tries to think about it as little as possible, but even pretending like it didn’t happen, his life post-hunt is nothing to brag about.
He’s never really felt like he belonged anywhere; he didn’t fit with his family, he annoyed most of the other kids his age - Oxenfurt may have been the only place he felt comfortable. But all of that changed when he met Geralt because he was just as fucked up as Jaskier is and no one had wanted him either and with him, Jaskier had elevated them both. And it was good, for a while. Or at least he had thought it was. He doesn’t think much about his Witcher anymore. His heart aches to know that even someone who knew and understood the pain of not being wanted could throw him away so easily.
Evidently, Jaskier is entirely unlovable.
Which is fine, he tells himself. He can still charm his way through court and find people to keep him company for a time. And even if they too move on, he’ll get by. After all, nothing could be as bad as losing someone you thought was a kindred spirit. Nothing could be as bad as losing your one true friend.
But he doesn’t think about that anymore.
Except when he’s composing. When he can’t find the words because anything uplifting sounds false and falls flat on his tongue. The only words he can get to flow are dark and melancholy and they get him thinking about feelings and people he would rather forget. Only how could he? Whatever possessed Geralt to shun him after twenty-two years, Jaskier doesn’t share it.
Maybe it’s because witchers don’t have emotions. Jaskier had thought that was some sort of line, but maybe Geralt is just good at pretending to feel after all.
The longer he spends alone, the more somber his writing becomes and the less people want to pay to hear it. The only thing they want to hear anymore is Toss a Coin and Jaskier can’t bring himself to play that anymore. The only song about Geralt he can stomach playing is one he wrote for himself and he’s not ready for anyone else to hear. Not that they would want to anyway, it’s not as though it’s any happier than the rest of his repertoire.
He travels for a while but eventually, without the coin from performing, he needs to find somewhere to settle for a while. Somewhere he can find some other job. No one wants a bard who makes people miserable, so he makes his way to Oxenfurt because it’s the only other place he knows he can find work. And maybe someone there will be happy to see him.
He arrives mid-afternoon on a sunny day and while he receives a warmer welcome than he has in months, it still doesn’t feel quite right. He and Geralt had something special and no amount of familiar faces will help him recreate that - especially if it was all in his head to begin with.
It feels good to have his position back as a professor and Jaksier enjoys the constant stream of people in and out of the college, but his happiness is hollow. So many of the people here who he once considered friends seem more like acquaintances in comparison to the closeness he felt with Geralt. Maybe he’s being too picky; the people here are kind and accepting and much less often request to hear songs about the Witcher he made famous.
So Jaskier tries. He tries harder than he ever has before to fit in and to be accepted, but even as he tries, even as he considers changing things about himself it doesn’t feel right. He doesn’t only want to be accepted, but to be accepted for who he is. And he’s not perfect, but who is? Certainly not any of the people who have abandoned him in the past.
