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It all started with a look.
It pierced through Jaskier as soon as he entered the hallway with that damn stone in his hand. Despite his frenzy, he stopped, his body suddenly tense.
Their eyes met.
She cocked her head to the side, and Jaskier felt something… something strange building inside of him. Something light. His skin itched uncomfortably. He wanted to look away, to close his eyes, but he couldn't. Not when she smiled at him. Not cruelly, not wickedly but with… Empathy?
Despite himself, he took a step closer.
But suddenly, the demon looked away from him, and Ciri screamed. The connection broke while heaviness in Jaskier's chest came back, as he was brutally returned to reality. He cowered to hide behind the table. The stone fell from his hand, as he tried to cover his ears in a desperate attempt to protect himself.
Right. The stone. The stone that was supposed to help free Ciri from the clutches of some… demon. Yennefer said that he should give it to Geralt as soon as possible.
Within moments Jaskier found himself seeking a safe refugee somewhere under the tables. He found the stone right as it flew away along with Ciri’s screaming. He caught it and pressed it firmly to himself, trying to find a way to hide. For fucks sake, the witchers had quen. He had a wooden table. Great. This was going to go great.
Especially when the demon called two basilisks. I’m going to die here , Jaskier thought bitterly, rolling, trying to find another table to hide behind but they. Kept. Breaking.
Not for the first time during his stay here did he find himself wondering what the fuck was he doing here. His hands still hurt. His whole body ached, because bloody hell, those prison cells were fucking uncomfortable. The witcher’s beds were only marginally better in comparison. He was tired. He was hungover. And he was hiding from two basilisks under a fucking wooden table, trying his best to give this stone to Geralt, becuase Yennefer said it was important, and…
Damn, was he useless.
He bearly managed to roll to the side, avoiding getting squashed by the monster’s tale. Lambert yelled something, but he ignored it, pressing his lips just not to scream as his hands met with the dirty floor. He jumped backwards and ran to the nearest column he saw, trying to keep his eyes on Geralt, who was too occupied even to notice him.
Great. Just like the good, old times.
Something came flying in his direction. Jaskier cursed, leaving the column, and moved closer to Geralt.
Only his reflexes saved him from getting his arm crushed by a stray rock. He dived once again under the table.
“Geralt!” he tried, crawling. He grimaced, feeling the pain coming from his hands, but still pressed on. “Geralt! Yennefer told me to bring you this! It’s…” he almost hissed as a particularly rough stone had been met with his skin. “It’s balance and heat, and…” He looked up. Geralt wasn't even reacting. “Oh, you can’t hear me.”
Why did he even agree to help him?
A body fell right in front of him. It took everything in Jaskier not to scream out loud.
He could have stayed in Oxenfurt. He could have just not gone out of his prison cell, hang out with Gideon and the rest, play songs on spoons, and later still help the elves, but no. Fucking no. He went with Geralt, like the damn fool he is, and found himself in this bloody situation.
Damn his soft heart.
“Geralt!”
Nothing. No reaction.
He heard someone screaming again, and he had to close his eyes in a feeble attempt to stop his pounding head from hurting even more. He wanted to curl and hide. He wanted something to protect himself. He wanted this all to end.
I’m useless , he thought, while trying to keep his eyes trained on Geralt. He was saying something, trying to talk to Ciri, get through to her. Some bitter part of Jaskier wondered if the man would ever do something like that if it was him on the line. If he had to save him.
Of course, Jaskier knew that something like that would never have happened to him. Why would it? Ciri had some ancient powers. Yennefer was a sorceress. What did he have?
As much as he liked to boast, to smile, to put himself on the pedestal, he knew where his place was in the times like this. In the back. Maybe with one important thing to do, but that was all. He could only tell the stories later…
Something painful twisted in his heart at the thought of his broken lute. Right. He didn’t have that anymore. But maybe if any spoons would get left after all of this, then who knows…
He raised his head just to witness Ciri chanting something in Elder Speech. Moments later a portal was created and… Another fucking basilisk came from it. Bigger than the previous ones. Great. Great, amazing, spectacular…
“Seriously?” he murmured to himself sarcastically, feeling how an ugly wave of fear and anger washed over him. One fucking moment of peace. One. Was he asking for too much? “Oh shit.”
He started to blindly crawl backwards, but that came to an abrupt stop as he hit his head on… Something. Then he heard Geralt yell, and despite everything, his blood run cold.
He got himself from under the table and ran in his direction.
“Geralt!”
The witcher got pushed out of the room, and the monster followed. Jaskier tried to speed up, to just throw the stone to him, but then…
He felt it again.
He turned slowly, and once again their eyes met.
She was smiling, her stare weirdly turning from the angry, almost mad one, to the one of…
“Poor bard,” she said. It couldn’t have been much of a whisper, but to Jaskier, it felt like a scream. “So much hatred. So much suffering.” She tsked, shaking her head, her mouth turning slightly down. “You would have been delicious.”
He wanted to move. He wanted his body to run, to break this staring contest that they had but he… couldn’t. It was as if she had him trapped, her eyes scanning him, seemingly searching deep within his soul.
“Do you know how happy she is now?” She asked, taking a step closer to him. “I could do the same to you.”
His breathing sped up. He wanted to shake his head, to yell something back. But… Even though he was trapped, her stare made him feel… Light? Dare he say it, safe?
No. No, he couldn’t think like that. She was tempting him. She was a demon, for fucks sake. What was he even thinking?!
The basilisk roared in pain, and once again Jaskier was released from the demon’s stare. He only heard a quiet “Later”, and then he felt that he could move again. He wasted no time, as he leapt towards the corridor. He could see Yennefer and Geralt running back in his direction…
A tail punched him right in the stomach, tossing him a few feet away. He fell on his back, feeling the air being punched out of him. He coughed, hard, but luckily no blood escaped his lips this time. Good. That meant he still had the strength to run.
He scrambled to stand up, and took a dive again, only to now get pushed by Lambert out of the way.
“Fuck” he cursed, as he felt the stone slipping out of his fingers. He couldn’t even stand up now.
The stone made a clicking sound as it hit the ground, and through his hazy stare, Jaskier saw how Geralt finally noticed it. Great. Maybe he has heard him, maybe he’ll know what to do…
He did, as it seemed. As Jaskier was trying to get up, he heard him say something about hatred, and how the demon fed on it. Those words… He wanted to laugh in his face. Geralt was truly the last person to speak about matters like this.
Hatred. The very thing he gave Jaskier in return for years of friendship. Now he was lecturing others about it. Fucking hypocrite.
And yet still, like the damn fool he was, Jaskier found himself coming closer to him. A small part of him wanted to lean on the witcher if only to know that his presence here really was important to the man, but he restrained himself. This wasn’t about him.
He wasn’t looking at the demon. If Ciri still was there, maybe, just maybe she needed to see how many people were willing to be there for her. He needed to look at her for that.
“She isn’t yours,” the demon said. And damn right she wasn’t. But she wasn’t the demon’s either. Ciri wasn't anyone’s. She didn’t deserve to be used by some creature, just because…
Geralt cursed.
“She needs a vessel.”
Moments later, Jaskier heard a sound of a bottle breaking, and he looked at Yennefer in surprise. Wasn’t her mixture enough? She said…
Ciri said something, and Jaskier made a mistake.
He looked at her.
And then, there was nothing.
The quiet sound of the sea made him open his eyes.
Jaskier blinked, groggily, leaning back on his hands. He smiled to himself, feeling the soft sand moving under his hands.
The sky above him wasn’t blue, but grey. But Jaskier didn’t mind. To be honest he preferred it that way. The cold breeze didn’t bother him that much as well, because now he had an excuse to steal one of Geralt’s fur coats.
He chuckled to himself lightly, turning his head to the side. The witcher was crouched a few feet away from him, building a fire. By the quiet curses he could make out, he wasn’t doing a good job of that. But that was okay. In a few moments, he’d come to help him. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the coast.
He took another deep breath, relishing in the salty, fresh smell of the sea. It was so peaceful here. So nice. The sea, the dark line of the forest that he could barely make out from the other side of the coast. And noone in sight. Just him, Geralt, Roach and his lute.
He absentmindedly smoothed his hand down the instrument. He recently polished it, so the wood was cold but nice to the touch. Just for the fun of it, he pulled on some of the stings softly, adding to the symphony of the sea and forest some new notes. He smiled. Life was good.
Jaskier!
He turned to the witcher, raising a brow, but the man wasn’t even looking at him.
“What is it?” he called back. Geralt turned, his brows raised.
“What?”
Jaskier frowned.
“You called?”
Geralt’s brows went even higher, as he came closer to the bard, sitting beside him.
“No,” he murmured, cocking his head to the side. “Are you all right?”
Roach snorted behind them. Jaskier shrugged.
“I must have misheard” he murmured. Geralt seized him down with a look but promptly decided to let it go. Instead, Jaskier felt how his arms encircled him, drawing him closer to the witcher’s chest. He chuckled, as Geralt hissed, feeling his nose touching his neck.
“You’re cold” the man complained, but otherwise made no attempts to move back.
“And you’re warm, so I’m taking advantage” he murmured. Geralt only sighed in exasperation.
The wind played a few notes on Jaskier’s lute. He frowned, as some notes sounded as if someone was screaming, but… It was just wind. It was okay. No one was here.
“You know, I never asked,” Geralt said after a moment of silence. “Why the coast?”
Jaskier shrugged, closing his eyes in content. The cold breeze slowly made his skin freeze, so he huddled closer to the witcher. “I honestly don’t know. I just thought it would be peaceful. The sea, the humming, no monsters, no nobles… Just us.” He bowed his head, mumbling more to himself than the witcher. “I wanted us to relax. We both needed that.”
Geralt only hummed above him. Without looking at him, Jaskier could have guessed that he had his head raised, looking at the grey sea in deep thought.
“I like it here” he finally said, and Jaskier felt something warm spread in his chest that had nothing to do with the warmth that was coming from Geralt. He smiled happily to himself. But the next words that came from the man, made his heart skip a beat. “We could stay here.”
Surprised, Jaskier untangled himself from Geralt, just to look him in the eyes.
“Are you serious?”
Geralt frowned, as he looked down at him. A gloved hand came to cup his face. Jaskier’s heart probably stopped, as he saw how much sincerity was in those yellow eyes.
“Yeah. If that’s what you want.”
The wind picked up, its gusts plucking at the lute’s strings even harder. Jaskier thought he has heard… someone scream again.
Break out of this! Come on!
He hesitated. What about Geralt? His contracts? Would he be able to even settle down? Were witchers even allowed to do so?
He must have tensed, because Geralt gently leaned down, and pressed a kiss to his forehead.
“Don’t worry about me” he whispered against his skin. His voice was warm and thoughtful. So different from the sounds coming from his lute. Full of… fear? And… And pain.
We need you! Jaskier, come on, you’re stronger than this!
“I can learn to settle” Geralt still was whispering. “I can learn to do many things if it’s for you. You deserve this.”
“I deserve this…” Jaskier whispered to himself. Those words felt so… Strange on his tongue. Like he knew what they meant, but he just couldn’t fully apply their meaning to himself. Because did he? Did he really deserve this? This life of peace, after so many turmoils? But what about the war, the elves, the…
Geralt kissed his forehead again.
Fight it!
“You’ll have nothing to worry about anymore. Just eternal peace, and time to figure out what pleases you.”
Despite himself, Jaskier chuckled, hearing Geral throw back the words he had said to him all those years ago.
“Sap” he murmured, burying his head in his chest if only to block those strange voices. It was just his imagination. Everything was fine. That cold sensation in his stomach could shut the hell up. Geralt chuckled above him. “You please me.”
Jaskier, please! It’s not worth it… No, don’t! Don’t hurt him!
“Then we’re staying?”
His fringe swayed lightly on the wind. Jaskier smiled.
“We’re staying.”
The strings on his lute broke with a sad twinge. The leaves rustled loudly around them, as the waves hit the coast more fervently. But Jaskier didn’t care. He was happy here.
This isn’t real!
Jaskier jumped.
“Okay, now you had to hear this.” He looked up, and sure enough, Geralt was looking up at the sky with an expression that was difficult for Jaskier to decipher. He felt as the witcher grabbed his hand tightly in his. A sound akin to a growl came out of Geralt’s throat. Jaskier tensed.
“Geralt? What’s going on?”
Come back to us. To me. Please.
He couldn’t even make out whose voice was that. Was it a man? A woman? They sounded distressed, close to begging…
He blinked, as the first drops of rain fell on his face. Geralt’s hand around his tightened.
“Who’s screaming?” he said, looking up to the sky as if he could see the face of this someone. But all he could see were the dark clouds gathering above him. The rain started to pour harder.
You deserve better than to die in a lie.
Something in Jaskier suddenly felt hollow. A lie? Was this all a lie?
He looked around. Nothing here felt like a lie. He could clearly feel the coldness of the rain, the way the wind was smacking his clothes, Geralt’s warm hand in his…
“Don’t listen to them” he heard the witcher murmur. “This is real.”
But the seed has already been planted. Jaskier took a few steps back from Geralt, feeling tears prick his eyes. He shook his head.
“Tell me something true,” he said, his voice breaking. He almost bowed his head, not wanting to see Geralt’s pained stare. So open. So unlike him.
“I love you.”
The pin dropped. Jaskier chuckled humorlessly to himself, and as a few tears fell, he whispered to himself.
“You’re lying.”
The coast disappeared.
He was in pain.
That was the first thing he noticed, as he slowly came to be. His back was aching. He could feel his temples pounding, making him moan. Jaskier tried to curl inside, but something heavy was preventing him from doing so.
“Jaskier?”
He blinked. Something yellow flashed before him. Familiar.
“Geralt?” he whispered groggily. He wanted to move his hands, and…
He couldn’t. Someone was holding him by the wrists. The wrists? Oh Gods, no. No, not again…
He panicked. With a swift movement which he didn’t even expect of himself, he pushed with his hips, throwing off the person who was holding him down.
“Get off of me!”
He finally opened his eyes, looking around in a frenzy, breathing quickly.
He was laying on the floor of Kaer Morhen. Looking to the side, he noticed Geralt, who was laying nearby, his face twisted in worry, surprise, and… Was it hurt that briefly passed in his eyes?
Jaskier didn’t have time to decipher it, as suddenly all he could see was Yennefer’s violet eyes, as she kneeled carefully before him.
“It’s okay, Jaskier,” she said gently, gentler than Jaskier has ever heard her be. “You’re safe now.” She moved slightly forward, but as he instinctively jumped back, she stilled. Jaskier shook his head, confused. Why were they focusing on him? Where’s Ciri? What happened with the demon?
“I’m okay” he heard somewhere to the back. He whipped his head, and sure enough, there was Ciri standing behind him. Her dark brows were drawn into a deep frown, as she was looking at him, biting her lip. “You…”
“Jaskier” Yennefer said again, drawing the bard’s attention back to her. “Can I check your hands?”
Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. Only now he felt the burning coming from his palms. His… His fingers… He didn’t want to look at them. He knew what he would see. A mess. But was that anything new?
Hesitantly he put his hands in front of him, trying to ignore the slight tremble that came with the movement. He could feel Geralt’s stare on him, his confusion. The gnawing feeling of guilt only grew from that, so instead, he focused on Yennefer. To her credit, she was trying to be gentle. Her fingers danced around his burned skin so lightly that he could barely feel it. She cursed under her breath.
“Come,” she said, suddenly standing up. “We need to clean your wounds.”
Jaskier didn’t know who was more surprised: him or Geralt. His shock only grew, however, when he heard Geralt saying:
“I can take him.”
Yennefer turned to him so abruptly, that Jaskier felt that slight gust of wind which came with her turn, her skirt twirling angrily.
“ You take care of Ciri” she replied in such a cold tone, that Jaskier was surprised ice didn’t start to fall from her lips. “You’ve done enough.”
Not waiting for a reply, the sorceress kneeled once again in front of the bard. All viciousness disappeared from her face, as she looked at him.
“Can you walk?”
Jaskier nodded stiffly, still not fully understanding what was going on. Why was Yennefer so angry? Why was she standing up to Geralt on his behalf? What the fuck happened?
He slowly stood up, swaying slightly. Okay, maybe it was worse than he thought. But before he could steady himself, a sudden hand was placed on his back, while Yennefer’s head appeared under his arm. She shrugged lightly at his surprised stare, and leaned in, whispering.
“I’ll explain everything later.”
Jaskier nodded and pretended that he didn’t feel Geralt’s look burning him on the back of his head. In silence, they started to slowly leave the main room.
Once back at his temporary quarters, Yennefer sat him on the bed, while she started to search the drawers for some forgotten herbs. With a flick of her wrist, the fire started to crack in the hearth, engulfing the, otherwise cold, chamber in its warm light. Despite himself, Jaskier relaxed slightly.
“You’ve got your chaos back” he murmured. Yennefer looked at him, a small, sad smile appearing on her lips.
“Yes. Thanks to you, partially.”
The man frowned even more, but hissed a second later, as the movement only made his head hurt more.
“Can you, please, explain what the fuck happened?” he whined, closing his eyes for a moment. Maybe that’ll help.
Yennefer sighed, and by a slight clinking sound, Jaskier guessed she must have put some bottles aside. Moments later he felt the bed dip beside him.
“When I broke the bottle, I wanted to… Sacrifice myself. For Ciri” she murmured. Jaskier raised his brows, keeping his eyes closed. It hurt less that way.
“Surprisingly noble of you, witch,” he said, but with no usual heat behind his words. He could swear he heard her smile.
“I guess… But I didn’t manage to do it. The oil made the demon leave Ciri, but before I could do anything, she… Jumped on you.”
Oh. Oh . Well, fuck him. So that was why he was feeling so guilty. Once again, a damsel in distress, causing everything to fuck up. Jaskier shook his head, feeling unwanted tears welling in his eyes. For fucks sake.
“I’m sure you were all thrilled” he deadpanned, bowing his head. He jumped when he felt Yennefer take one of his hands in hers, but he calmed down, as he felt a light tingle of magic around it.
“Try terrified” she answered, and was that… Concern in her voice? Jaskier risked opening one eye, and sure enough, Yennefer was pressing her lips tightly. She took a deep breath. “With Ciri, we were slowly getting to know what she wanted with her. With you… Well…” She looked at him and sighed. “She told us you were a better substitute. A… Delicious vessel.” She basically spat out those last two words in disgust, making Jaskier frown. Since when was Yennefer of Vengenberg so… Protective of him? “She said, she never saw so much hatred and pain in one person.”
Jaskier’s heart twisted. Fuck. Of course, Geralt was saying something about that, Yennefer probably did too. But he didn’t listen, so of course…
He should have bottled it down.
The sorceress must have noticed how he tensed, because she gently squeezed his hand all of sudden.
“We tried talking to you. You had to break the illusion yourself because we didn’t have enough oil to help you… But she didn’t want to let you go. She started to attack us, and…” She chuckled. “Geralt never mentioned you can hold your ground that well.”
He chuckled as well.
“To his credit, I rarely did bar fights when he was around. Besides…” He looked to the side, a wave of guilt taking over him again. “You learn a thing or two when you smuggle elves.”
Yennefer nodded behind him.
“I guess so. Anyway, Geralt froze. He did almost nothing to fight, especially…” She let go of his hand and took in the other. Jaskier didn’t like the tone of pity that was slowly making itself known in her voice. “Especially when she started to talk. In your voice.”
That made Jaskier turn abruptly.
“That made difference?”
Yennefer only stared him down.
“Of course. She was switching. Once it was you, once it was her. And she played with us. With him. She… She was mocking him. She told him why you were suffering. Why you came to his aid. She told him how happy you were in that illusion, how… safe you felt.”
Fuck. Amazing. Fantastic even, oh dear Gods. A fucking demon decided to… To do what? Confess his pathetic love for Geralt for him? In front of everyone?
“Fuck” Jaskier murmured, bowing his head. Yennefer lightly squeezed his hand.
“She made Geralt practically useless, probably because someone suddenly started to talk to him about emotions.” Her dry tone made him smile, if only slightly. “But she slipped as to what she wanted. Come back home. That’s why she wanted Ciri, so I explained to her what to do, she made a portal, and when Geralt finally came to himself, he grabbed you, and we went inside. Only there she released you, but as she did so, you fell, started to contort, so Geralt had this brilliant idea really, to hold you down, and before I came to say anything…” She shrugged. “The rest you already know.”
Jaskier sighed heavily. His head started to pound even more, as his heart twisted in his chest. For fucks sake. How was he supposed to look at Geralt now? How was he supposed to do anything now? Fucking hell, he got possessed because of his emotions, he never should have left this chamber…
Meanwhile, Yennefer started to gently prob his head.
“Come on, bard” she murmured. “Let it out. Talk.”
But for the first time in his life, Jaskier didn’t want to talk. What was there to say anyway? That he felt useless? That he felt guilty? Ashamed? He wasn’t drunk enough for this shit.
“Fuck” he murmured for the second time. Yennefer chuckled humourlessly.
“Eloquent start.”
Anger started to boil inside Jaskier. His hands twitched, as he felt the sudden need to write if only to have material for yet another angry ballad to sing through taverns. But he couldn’t see a piece of paper anywhere. And even if he did, although his hands didn’t hurt anymore, he wasn’t sure if he could use them.
Yennefer must have noticed how he was looking around the room, because she let go of him with a sigh.
“What do you need?”
Alcohol, he thought to himself, but out loud he said: “Paper. Ink. Anything, where I can write.”
He thought wistfully back to the notebook he had hidden inside his lute, but that was gone as well. Great. Yet another sacrifice for…
A sudden gust of wind made him snap his head back to Yennefer, who now had a notebook with ink and feather on her lap. When he anxiously moved to grab it, she lightly swatted his hands away.
“I’m going to write. You… Do your thing. Rant.”
Her tone left no room for argument, so Jaskier, although surprised, let her do it. Maybe she needed to do something as well.
“Fucking hell” he murmured, and chuckled, seeing in the corner of his eye how Yennefer sent him a pointed look. “I’m so tired, Yennefer. So fucking tired. Everything hurts. It hurt even earlier, but now? I don’t even know what doesn’t hurt. And what for?” He sighed, shaking his head. At least with elves, he felt he had a purpose. But here? “Why did he need me? Why did you need me? I haven’t done anything.” Yennefer opened her mouth but shut it just as quickly. “I’ve brought danger, by just being myself. By feeling . And was I not right to feel?” He turned to her, biting his lips. “Tell me, Yennefer. You’ve said it yourself. Geralt hurt me. He left me on this fucking mountain, alone, and then I was made to figure out my life again. And just as I have done it, he bursts open my prison cell, and tells me he needs me. And do you know, how he fucking apologized for leaving me?” Yennefer only raised a brow, but from the way she pressed her lips in a thin, pale line, Jaskier knew she was slowly starting to heat up as well. “He only said ‘I’m sorry.’ That’s all. That’s fucking all.”
The sorceress frowned.
“He… Didn’t ask you about the Firefucker? The torture?”
Jaskier burst out laughing bitterly.
“Of course not. Have you met him? So he drags me to Cintra, and I find myself falling back into this routine so easily. So fucking easily. And then I have to take Ciri here, I finally lay down, and then you, my dear wife, come waltzing in, waking me up and throwing me in this mess, when I have nothing. Nothing to defend myself. Three basilisks and I have only a wooden table to hide under. Not even a dagger to get by.” Unwanted tears started to fall from his chin. A sob has forced its way out of his lips. “And all I feel is this… Anger. This helplessness. Why am I here? Why did I come back?” He closed his eyes. A sickly sweet voice of the demon rang in his head. “And she knew that. She was talking to me, she was promising me happiness… And you know what the worst part is?” In the corner of his eye, he could see her shaking her head. He coughed in between sobs. “I felt happy. For the first time in months. I felt happy in this illusion. I wanted to stay there. To just… Exist. With…” He sighed. There was no use in hiding it anymore, was it? “With him.” A dry chuckle escaped his lips. “Pathetic, isn’t it? Because of him, I was in this situation. Not for the first time, mind you. And yet still, the happiest I’ve been… Was with him.”
He nearly jumped, when he felt a sudden weight on his shoulder. He was even more surprised when he heard her saying:
“I know that feeling.”
Silence fell upon them. Jaskier was staring at the floor, trying desperately to contain his sobs. He was better than this, he was.
“You’re not useless.”
He looked at Yennefer, his brows raised, but the sorceress wasn’t looking at him. She was just staring in the distance, but by the way, she tucked herself closer to him, Jaskier knew, she was being honest. And that confused him even more.
“In fact, you are one of the most important people here.” At his sarcastic chuckle, she lightly punched him on the arm. “Believe me, it does not come easy to say this, but it’s true. I woke you up, because I knew you would do anything to help Geralt. And if not Geralt, then Ciri.” She sighed, shaking her head. “And honestly, it’s not that bad that Voleth Meir took you over. It finally made Geralt think.”
“No shit.”
They both laughed. Jaskier put his cheek on Yennefer’s head. She squeezed closer to him.
“You witness history, Jaskier.” She murmured. “And unlike me or Geralt, you try to memorize it. You create your versions, tell stories, move people’s hearts. That’s kind of important.”
Jaskier shook his head.
“Why are you being so nice to me?”
Now it was Yennefer who bowed her head.
“I wanted to help the only person, who doesn’t hate me here.”
Jaskier jumped.
“Geralt doesn’t hate you,” he said with a conviction that surprised even himself. But Yennefer only laughed bitterly.
“I tried to exchange his child surprise for my chaos. He does.”
“You wanted to sacrifice yourself.”
“He doesn’t know it.”
Jaskier had no answer to that, so he just squeezed her hand in his lightly.
“So we’re both fucked.”
Yennefer chuckled.
“Maybe. Maybe not. I certainly need time to figure things out.”
She stood up so abruptly, that Jaskier almost fell from the bed. He looked at her, feigning annoyance, but she only shrugged. Her hand moved, and something fell on the bed beside Jaskier.
“Here. So you can stop hiding behind tables.” A sudden smile appeared on her face. “And don’t fall asleep. You’ll have a visitor. Soon.”
With that, she turned to leave the room but was stopped by a sudden tug on her hand. Jaskier was looking up at her, a real smile finally stretching his lips.
“Thank you,” he said and tilted his head up, to lightly kiss her palm. “Wife dearest.”
“Thank you as well” she replied, and with mischievous sparks in her eyes, moved to kiss his cheek as well. “My drunkard husband.”
And with that, she was gone.
Jaskier sighed, moving to fully lay on the bed. Mindful of Yennefer’s warning, he leaned down to inspect what the sorceress created for him.
He almost gasped, when he saw that it was a dagger. And not one of those that Geralt always kept on Roach. Those were practical. Simple. This one, however…
Jaskier’s fingers danced delicately on the crossguard. Instead of a simple, horizontal piece of metal, this was created by two large, silver, buttercup flowers. Their stems were entangled with each other, making up the rest of the crossguard. In the middle of it, there was a small purple sapphire. The spindle was brown, and it reminded Jaskier of a very twisted branch. At the end of it, there was a flat, circular piece of silver with a dandelion inscribed on both sides.
The sheath was beautiful as well. It was sturdy, made out of silver, and what Jaskier guessed, must have been some kind of wood painted burgundy. It had a small ear-like strap, from which hung a short, silver chain ended with the same purple sapphire that was in the crossguard.
Jaskier smiled to himself, seeing as on the silver the first few notes of Her Sweet Kiss were engraved. So it looks like Yennefer did listen to his music after all. Maybe he should write another ballad about her…
A sudden knock on the door tore him from his thoughts. He groaned internally.
“Coming!”
He absolutely wasn’t prepared for Geralt standing behind the door. A Geralt who looked almost… Sad?
“Can I come in?”
Wordlessly, Jaskier moved to the side. Geralt walked in, and when the bard turned to him after closing the door, he noticed with surprise how… Awkward the witcher looked. How… Almost uncertain. He frowned.
“Did something happen?”
Geralt shook his head.
“You tell me.”
Oh. Oh no. Oh shit, no, he was not having this conversation now. Or ever, if he had a say in this.
But it seemed like it was a day full of surprises, as Geralt suddenly looked at Jaskier with such remorse in his stare, that it made the bard almost take a step back.
“I’m sorry.”
Jaskier turned his head away. Anger started to bubble under his skin once more.
“You’ve already said that.”
“Yes” Geralt sighed, and Jaskier heard a squeak of the chair being pulled. “But it wasn’t enough.”
Huh. Interesting. It finally made Geralt think, Yennefer has said. Maybe that was what she meant. Intrigued, Jaskier sat down on the bed and looked at Geralt with a new interest in his eyes. Meanwhile, Geralt sighed.
“I’m sorry for what I’ve said on the mountain. It was never your fault, it was mine. I guess I…” Geralt shook his head. “I guess I just wanted to take it out on someone, and you’ve just… Been nearby. Which is a shitty excuse, but still… I’m sorry.”
Something warm started to grow inside of Jaskier, but he quickly squashed it down. Pathetic. Few nice words, and he was already…
“But that’s not the only thing I should apologise for.” Geralt suddenly stood up from the chair and came to the bed. He didn’t sit, Jaskier noticed, but maybe it was for the better. He worried that his treacherous heart would forgive the man the instant he was in a touching distance. “I’m sorry for dragging you back into this. I’m sorry that I didn’t check you for your wounds. Sorry for just… Taking you for granted. You deserve better. Better than me for sure.”
Now he was dreaming. He must have. No fucking way that Geralt of Rivia started to take accountability for his actions. No fucking way that he suddenly saw what his attitude did to Jaskier.
“This isn’t real” he whispered to himself, shaking his head. He must have been back in n illusion. He must have.
Geralt frowned.
“It is.”
But Jaskier shook his head herder.
“No. No, it’s not.”
Suddenly, Geralt kneeled in front of him.
“It’s real, I swear.” He frowned, seemingly trying to come up with something. “I am truly sorry. I have no idea, if or how I will do better, but I’ll try. After… After today…” He sighed, clenching his hands on his sides. Jaskier’s eyes unconsciously followed the movement.
If he says he loves me, this is over , he thought to himself, and surprisingly, this thought has helped him calm down a bit. It was going to be okay. It was.
“I was worried. I didn’t know, how to react, what to do. It was Eskel all over again, and all I could think was that I… I didn’t want to lose you too.” His shoulders were tense, Jaskier noticed with a surprise, as the witcher took a deep breath to compose himself. “And now Yen told me I might have lost you already.”
Oh. So that was what she had meant when she said he was going to have a visitor. Sneaky, sneaky.
Jaskier allowed himself to relax a tad more.
“It isn’t that bad. I’m still here, aren’t I?” His heart leapt when a shadow of a smile passed Geralt’s face, but immediately it was replaced by sadness.
“You are. By a miracle.” Geralt sighed. “Can I… sit beside?”
Jaskier nodded, scooting to the side to make more room for him. What was going on on this day? He didn’t want to say he hated it, but it was just so…
“About what Voleth Meir said…”
There we go.
“I… Don’t want to talk about it.” He said sternly, turning his head away. He could feel Geralt's stare on him.
“All right. But… Just so you know… The feeling’s mutual.”
Jaskier’s head snapped back in a second. As expected, Geralt wasn’t looking at him, but the bard still saw how he was pressing his hands together. His nervous habit. He sighed heavily, thinking.
What was he supposed to do with this? He was still hurt. He was still angry, sad, and entirely too tired to deal with all of that baggage. But he couldn’t just push Geralt away. Not when this was probably the first time in his life, when the man has actually apologized. He was trying. And Jaskier wanted him to know he appreciated this. But still…
“I… I understand.” He said finally. “But we can’t go back to how things were immediately.” To his surprise. Geralt simply nodded. “I was hurt. This apology is better than the previous one but… I still… I guess I need time.”
“That I can give to you.” Geralt looked at him, and this time it wasn’t a shadow, but a real smile stretching his lips. “I can wait.”
Jaskier couldn’t help himself.
“Then we have a deal.”
Slowly, hesitantly, he put his hand over Geralt’s and the warmth returned to his chest, when the witcher’s fingers squeezed his in return.
He finally felt a bit of happiness seeping back into him again. He was safe. This was real. It was…
But… Just to be sure…
“Geralt?” A hum was all the reply he got. “Tell me something true.”
The witcher frowned.
“Water’s wet?”
Jaskier laughed. Yeah. This was true. This was true.