Chapter Text
Jaskier couldn’t help but feel there was a sort of miasma hovering over the village. Normally, that meant a contract for Geralt to complete, but though he cannot put his finger on it, it also feels different from usual. After nearly nine years of following the witcher around, for almost 3 seasons a year, he should be used to the oppressive atmosphere of entering a settlement besieged by a creature, and normally he is… But there’s something here that doesn’t feel quite right.
Geralt frowns, more than he normally does, so he’s not the only one who feels it. They stop in silence to ponder the noticeboard, and Jaskier finds himself surprisingly unsurprised to find no contract for a witcher. He glances at his companion, frowning: “Geralt…”
“We should camp in the woods tonight.” It’s blunt as Geralt’s words always are, but they also hold the same tension Jaskier feels.
Normally, Jaskier would complain, but something stops him.
He glances at the noticeboard again and one of the pieces of parchment catches his eye.
Alright fuckers. One of you will tell me what happened to Anna or I will make you.
Something is definitely going on here, and he isn't sure if he wants to learn what it is.
He turns back to his witcher and attempts a reassuring smile, but he isn't sure it's successful. “Yes, let's.”
—
They don’t go far from the village, not really, but they find a clearing in the woods beyond the path, and most importantly, beyond the oppressive atmosphere.
Jaskier glances back to find Geralt still as tense as he had been at the entrance of the village. It worries him, really, because he always wishes he can remove some of the burdens that the man labours under. After so long, he’s figured out that Geralt’s gruff attitude has little to do with him actually wanting to push Jaskier away, at least he thinks, because Geralt shows he cares in so many other ways. It’s in the way he finds food for Jaskier, in the way he stays to watch Jaskier’s performances even though he probably wants to go to sleep. Jaskier hopes he brings comfort to Geralt too, tries to make it easier for him to get rooms in inns once he learnt of the prejudice Geralt faces, tries to get as much coin as he can so he can make sure Geralt has enough food, tries to get rid of the unfair reputation Geralt gained.
Now, though, he hopes he can help Geralt to relax, but the fact that the other man leans into the hand he puts onto his shoulder concerns him even more. It’s not that he doesn’t like physical contact, Jaskier has been around him long enough that he actually enjoys it, but normally he deprives himself of it. If he readily accepts the offered comfort, there must be something very wrong.
“Geralt, darling?”
He won’t outwardly ask what’s wrong, implying the question allows the witcher to avoid it if he wishes to.
But it seems Geralt doesn’t want to avoid the issue because he actually responds, “The whole village smells of fear, anger, and grief. But there isn’t a monster, they would have put out a contract on it.”
Jaskier won’t ask what that means; he knows enough about the world to know what that means. It means that someone, not something, was the cause of those emotions.
He’s about to ask Geralt if he thinks there’s anything they can do. Sometimes, when a human causes those emotions, like a man beating his wife, they help the victim get to safety. Jaskier sometimes wishes they could do more, perhaps even get rid of the person causing the harm, but Geralt is still convinced he can only kill monsters unless a human literally raises a sword to him, especially because of what happened in Blaviken, even if most humans have forgotten.
Before he can get the words out, however, a man bursts into the clearing, a huntsman probably, given the bow he holds and the dogs that follow him. He is closely followed by a brawny woman who seems furious. She has short brown hair that hangs to her angular jaw, and is nearly as tall as Jaskier. He recognises the calluses on her hands that are so like Geralt’s, suggesting that she does know how to use the sword at her waist, the pommel of which she grasped when she noticed them.
They all stand around the clearing looking at each other in surprise, even the dogs are quiet. Geralt has moved closer to him for some reason, though no one is moving at all now.
Jaskier decides to break the silence, if not the tension, by breathing out a small startled greeting.
Both newcomers' eyes flicker to him as Geralt moves even closer, though Jaskier doesn’t know why, though their attention quickly moves back to Geralt.
The uneasy silence continues after that, Jaskier would normally continue to fill it, but the atmosphere they had escaped at the village seems to be back and he feels unbalanced.
In the end, it’s the woman who breaks the silence, seemingly having become even more agitated. “Oh, for fucks sake, Anton! Are we going to stand here watching the witcher, or do you want to get paid?”
That seems to startle the confusion out of the huntsman, who murmurs apologies at Geralt and Jaskier, and urges his dogs back into their search.
Geralt and Jaskier stay frozen for a while, until Geralt sags and puts his head onto Jaskier’s shoulder. He stops himself from jumping at the unexpected move, he hadn’t realised Geralt was close enough to do that, but then he grows even more concerned again. If Geralt leaning into physical comfort is uncommon, him seeking it out is even more unexpected.
“What was that?” He feels a nudge from Geralt’s head, possibly because of the shakiness of his question. He doesn’t really know why he feels so shaken though, in the end nothing really happened.
“I think it has something to do with the village, they smelt the same way.”
“Are we going to do something about it?”
“I don’t know.”
They continue to make camp, trying to act as if all things were normal, but as Jaskier attempts his normal blabber, his mind keeps returning to the village and the unusual encounter.
They are sitting down to finally eat the food Geralt has prepared when the man whips his head up and gazes towards the woods, almost exactly where the huntsman and the woman had exited the clearing a couple hours prior. Shortly later, the woman comes through the boundary of the clearing, alone, this time. She still looks absolutely furious, but, by the light of their campfire, Jaskier can see her tired expression made even more obvious by her red rimmed eyes which immediately lock onto Geralt.
“Witcher,” she addresses him in a raspy alto voice, “you kill monsters, right?”
Geralt, of course, hums a noncommittal answer, which she seems to take as a sign to continue.
“The king of Kaedwen killed my sister.”
Jaskier isn’t sure if he could explain his reaction to the woman’s words. It’s easier, perhaps, to think of non sentient creatures as monsters and of sentient creatures as those who fight the monsters and are never monsters themselves. He knows it’s not true, of course, he’s met his fair share of human monsters, his father amongst them, but he’s never seen anyone attempt to ask Geralt to kill any. He knows it has happened before, Geralt told him the story of Blaviken when he was drunk and melancholy one night, and it’s the most Jaskier has ever heard out of him. Now, he really doesn’t know how Geralt will respond, though in the end, the witcher surprises him.
“I do kill monsters, yes, but killing humans is against the code of my school.”
A look of anguish crosses the woman’s face. “Some humans are monsters.”
“Yes.”
A tense silence stretches through the clearing once again but this time, Jaskier knows he can break it.
“My dear,” he says in his softest tone, “would you like to sit and have some food with us?”
It feels like the least he can do for her, and he wishes he could do more, but perhaps, giving her food and a space to talk will be enough for now.
She answers with a small nod and sits on a log close to the fire, looking a bit lost. Jaskier splits his food in half. He had been hungry prior to this, but now he will only be able to swallow a little bit of food, so it’s not much of a loss.
“Have you not heard about the rumours, my Anna isn’t the only one.”
Oh, so she had been the one to post the notice.
“We never spend much time in Kaedwen, really, so we haven’t heard.”
Jaskier now wishes they hadn’t made their way to Kaedwen early this year, so he wouldn’t be aware of this atrocity. Normally, he’s only in Kaedwen for a few days as he says goodbye to Geralt for the winter. But this year, Geralt had heard of a greater amount of contracts in the country and thus, here they were, in early autumn. Geralt, of course, does not pay much attention to the gossip.
He is broken out of his thoughts as the woman speaks again.
“The rumours say there are hundreds.”
“Hundreds of women?”
“Hundreds of girls. Anna was 16.”
The woman doesn’t say what the king does to the girls, but it's easy enough to understand the implications. Oh, right now, as his entire being fills with sorrow and fury, how he wishes Geralt did sometimes take contracts on monstrous humans too.
The rest of the evening is silent, Jaskier doesn’t wish to talk and both his companions seem determined to be understandably taciturn.
The young woman, for she is young, though it’s more visible now in her sadness than it was in her fury, leaves after eating a bit, but not before saying one final thing.
“My name is Zofia, if you ever need to find me. Though I don’t think I’ll be staying here long.”