everyone& #39;s done a twilight geraskier au but what abt a geraskier the host au

jaskier has been to hundreds of worlds, had hundreds of host bodies that he& #39;s lived countless lives in, but none have ever quite been like earth
when he opens his eyes, he knows his body used to be a young man named julian pankratz, the firstborn of a fairly high class family with a love of music never properly cultivated. jaskier couldn& #39;t care less about status—moot in their own culture—so he pursues the music
it& #39;s nice for a time; since they arrived war and starvation and hurt have ceased to exist on the continent except in the remotest pockets of the planet and it& #39;s an easy and simple life

and then the dreams start—memories, jaskier thinks, from julian& #39;s life—
of a man with white hair and eyes like the sun, and more and more often jaskier wakes with a deep ache in his chest and a name on his lips that he can& #39;t quite remember

he falls in love with this man from his dreams, julian& #39;s memories—/his/ memories—and something pushes him
to leave the safe life he has to chase this memory; he knows this man isn& #39;t one of his own, knows he wouldn& #39;t have been captured and forced into this idyllic life by jaskier& #39;s kind, so he leaves and he wanders

he& #39;s drawn to the mountains, the words & #39;kaer morhen& #39; stuck in mind
though he& #39;s never heard them before

he spends two weeks in the forests at the foot of the mountain, hungry and dehydrated and finally collapses because he didn& #39;t plan and has no idea what he& #39;s looking for and he figures this is where he finally dies
he wakes up and the first thing he sees is those gold eyes from his dreams watching him with cold wariness and jaskier& #39;s heart tries valiantly to beat out of his chest

"geralt," he breathes, the name finally, /finally/ coming to his waking mind. geralt just crosses his arms
"you& #39;re not julian," geralt says, and oh, how jaskier has missed that rough voice he& #39;s never heard before

"no," he agrees, because there& #39;s no point in denying it when he can see the silver light reflected from his own eyes shimmering on the wall. "i& #39;m called jaskier."
"why are you here."

"i was—" jaskier wonders if he should say but figures he has nothing but his life to lose, and he& #39;d give it to geralt without hesitation if he asked, "—looking for you."

"why."

"you& #39;re the one memory that won& #39;t leave."
it& #39;s the last thing he says to geralt for some time. others interrupt and jaskier finds himself surrounded by a cobbled together family in the heart of the mountains, resisting falling prey to his kind. they don& #39;t trust him, that& #39;s made very clear, but they don& #39;t
find him to be a threat, either—they& #39;d left him wandering the forests long enough to see if any of his kin were following him and only took him in when it was clear he was on his own

it& #39;s ciri who approaches him first, young and curious, and she looks so much like her father
it punches the wind out of him with the breadth of affection that fills him

she asks questions that probe into uncomfortable territory but she also shows him genuine kindness and jaskier loves her immediately, wholly and completely, and everyone seems to breathe easier
after that more and more of geralt& #39;s little family start to include him in the day to day life of kaer morhen and he starts befriending them all—not as a remnant of julian but as /jaskier/

those that don& #39;t take kindly to him, still caught in their very justified
anger and prejudice, find themselves at the wrong end of geralt& #39;s fists, and jaskier finds himself firmly in the circle of geralt& #39;s fierce protection

it seems almost inevitable after that
jaskier isn& #39;t julian and he doesn& #39;t pretend to be—and geralt knows that, can& #39;t forget it when every time jaskier looks at him there& #39;s silver behind the blue, a being of age and knowledge that geralt can& #39;t fathom, but they grow closer, drawn to each other despite it all
geralt kisses him softly and jaskier feels so full of love—his, julian& #39;s, does it even matter anymore?—that he thinks he might burst

"i& #39;m not him," he says quietly when they pull apart

geralt hums, "i know," and kisses him again and jaskier lets himself be lost in it
life goes on a day at a time and jaskier thinks this, of the hundreds of worlds he& #39;s been to, of the hundreds of lives he& #39;s lived, this one—here on earth, with geralt and ciri and yen and this little family—this one is his favorite of all

// end thread
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