Chapter Text
“Why do we have to split up?” Ciri asked, frowning up at Geralt. “I don’t get it.”
Geralt placed a gentle hand upon her shoulder and sent a meaningful look at Yennefer. Jaskier recognised that glint in Geralt’s eyes and he knew that it held a harsh, veiled warning. The trust between them was rocky at best and there was a lot of work needed if they were to ever go back to the way they were. Yet, Jaskier knew Geralt was trying to forgive her. This was just his first step in doing so.
“You need somewhere quiet and safe,” Geralt said slowly. There was an underlying threat there that Jaskier picked up on and, judging by Yennefer’s tight-lipped smile, she heard it too. “It’ll only be for a week then we’ll meet where we said we would.”
“It will help you control your power,” Yennefer said. “You need to be void of any distractions.”
“And Geralt’s a distraction ?” Ciri asked, incredulous.
“Everyone is,” Yennefer said slowly.
“ I’m a great distraction as some say,” Jaskier piped up. It was an attempt to alleviate some tension in the clearing. When it did nothing to help, instead leading three pairs of eyes to level him with similarly unimpressed stares, he fell quiet again with a small nod to himself. “Not the right time, got it.”
Ciri looked back up at Geralt, searching his face as if waiting for him to change his mind. From personal experience, Jaskier knew that once the Witcher’s mind was set, there was very little you could do to make it budge. So, when Ciri let out a sigh, he knew that she recognised she would not win this debate.
“Only a week,” she said.
Geralt nodded. “You’ll be okay.”
“What will you be doing then?” She asked with a small frown.
Geralt looked over at Jaskier. “Travelling and seeing if there’s any contracts to get us coin for when we’re back together. You need a new fleece.”
“With Jaskier?” Ciri asked. She looked at the bard and Jaskier gave her a small smile which she returned.
During the past week of fixing the destruction to Kaer Morhen, Jaskier had spent time bonding with the princess. It had been unintentional at first but when Ciri had isolated herself with guilt, Jaskier had been the one to pull her back out of her shell. They had spent time playing gwent and he had shared several stories about Geralt which she had greatly appreciated. She had particularly enjoyed his stories about when they had first met and how he had followed Geralt around like a lost puppy.
Geralt nodded with his trademark hum which could mean a million things.
“It’ll be like the good old days,” Jaskier said then cringed. “Gosh, saying that makes me feel old . I’m getting old.”
“I was wondering when you would realise,” Yennefer commented. “You’ve started to get grey hairs.”
Jaskier’s eyes widened and he let out a noise of disbelief. He can’t have grey hairs, right? He may not be young anymore but he wasn’t ancient. He was only forty, he wasn’t old . His hands went to rest upon his hair.
“Stay safe,” Ciri said after a moment, her own lips curling upwards at the display. She didn’t want to leave them but they all knew she needed to be without distraction.
Yennefer stepped forward and handed Geralt a small stone. It looked like a simple chip of rock, grey and slightly shimmery when the light hit it right. It was small and barely covered half of Geralt’s palm. Geralt looked at her with a questioning eyebrow raise.
“I’ve put a locator spell on it,” she explained. “If you need to find me, or if we need to find you, copy this chant and hold the stone close to your lips. We will find each other.”
She demonstrated twice and both Geralt and Jaskier echoed. When she was satisfied that they weren’t going to forget it, she took a step away with a nod of confirmation. Geralt pocketed the stone at his hip and Jaskier knew that the stone would not be leaving his person until they were all reunited again.
The two of them shared a meaningful look. It made the tiniest pang of jealousy lick at his brain but he quickly squashed it. Geralt was the first to look away and Yennefer sighed. It would take time to mend what was broken.
“Alright,” Geralt said as a means of getting going.
Ciri immediately wrapped her arms around his torso and hugged him tightly. Geralt hesitated only momentarily, still getting used to someone relying on him for comfort, before his hands rested on her back and he hid his face in her hair. When they parted, Ciri looked up at him with a determined set of her jaw and Jaskier knew that, once this week had passed, she would come back stronger. He was sure of it.
“Keep him safe,” Yennefer said, looking at Jaskier. He gave her a little two-fingered salute. “And try not to attract too much danger.”
“I can’t help that I have a special talent for it,” Jaskier said with a shrug.
She rolled her eyes but the slight grin upon her full lips revealed her amusement. She then turned, done with the goodbyes, and created the portal to the designated location she and Geralt had discussed. It was hidden and far away from society so she could practise the basics of her magic undisturbed.
Ciri gave Jaskier a hug which he quickly returned with a light squeeze. She then turned to walk through the portal, sending them a small wave before she disappeared.
“Be good, boys,” Yennefer said before stepping through.
…….
Jaskier’s feet hurt.
They had been walking for what felt like hours and still hadn’t reached the next town over. Well, Jaskier had been walking while Geralt remained perched atop of Roach’s back.
He strummed at his lute, humming a new melody that had been brewing in his head. Boredom had led him to shift from the tune to much more giddy jigs, stepping in time to his little beat as he sang to his audience of one – of two, if you count Roach.
They were still half a day’s walk away from their destination and Jaskier was craving the bitter taste of ale on his tongue. He was looking forward to finally resting his head on a pillow, no matter how stiff it was, because he welcomed anything that wasn’t the hard dirt they’d been camping on for the past four nights.
The town they had passed through immediately after saying their goodbyes to Ciri and Yennefer, when Geralt had taken on a contract to save them from a drowner’s nest, they had been refused room at the inn. They hadn’t appreciated Jaskier’s immediate, very rational , reaction of calling them pig-headed knobs and had demanded that they camp outside of town where their children wouldn’t see an ‘unwanted mutation’.
They had revoked Jaskier’s chances of getting a good night’s rest and proved to be the most insufferable, ungrateful pieces of shi–
“We’ll camp here tonight,” Geralt said, breaking Jaskier from his thoughts.
“How luxurious,” Jaskier sighed dramatically.
They were in the middle of a forest. Jaskier had lost track of where exactly they were. All he knew was it was another night of waking up dirty, with the possibility of bugs crawling into his underclothes.
Now, that had been a traumatic experience.
Geralt had dismounted from Roach. He rested a comforting hand on her neck as he offered the horse a sugar cube. Roach happily took it from him, nudging her nose against his shoulder in an almost grateful manner. Jaskier had always been intrigued by Geralt’s interactions with the mare. The way Geralt, a man built by years of danger and violence, treated her with a gentleness reserved only for those Geralt deemed worth it. Geralt loved that horse. The way Geralt’s eyes softened when talking to her made Jaskier’s heart tug.
Geralt turned to Jaskier. If Jaskier thought any higher of himself, he would’ve noticed the way Geralt’s gaze remained soft as he looked at him .
“I’ll scout the area. You stay here with Roach,” Geralt said.
Jaskier knew the drill
He gave Geralt a playful salute. “Yes, sir.”
Geralt nodded before walking off between the trees.
Jaskier approached Roach easily, resting a hand on her muzzle. Her ears swivelled and she allowed him to give her a fond scratch before dipping down to munch on the nearby grass.
He remembered back to when they had first met and the months following. She would never allow him to get close to her let alone rest a hand upon her flank. Roach had been snappy, grumpy, and definitely did not appreciate Jaskier’s persistent company. Jaskier was sure she had seen him as a pest that would create unnecessary noise and drama. However, after Jaskier sneakily fed her sugar cubes and chunks of his apples, she had grown to tolerate him.
“Another camp, another sleepless night,” Jaskier said to her. He had seen Geralt talk to her on several occasions and he, himself, actually found it quite therapeutic. “It’s getting dark. Hopefully, it won’t be as chilly as last night.”
He thought back to the night prior. Initially, he and Geralt had been sleeping on either side of the campfire. Though, as the flames died down, Jaskier had felt the bite of the evening chill and began to shiver. He wasn’t sure what had prompted Geralt, but the Witcher had invited Jaskier to share his bed roll.
To preserve warmth , he had said. And to save me from listening to your complaints in the morning.
When they had woken up the next day, with Jaskier’s head resting atop of Geralt’s chest and Geralt’s arm holding him close, they had chosen to not talk about it. Jaskier pretended that the warmth that had swelled in his chest was because the Witcher was a furnace and not for any other reason.
That had been the first night that Jaskier slept all the way through since his time with Rience.
There was a sudden cold gust of wind that left Jaskier’s skin prickling uncomfortably. For an evening without any breeze, he was left shivering. Confused, he looked down at himself to see hundreds of goosebumps had appeared on his arms. He felt the prickle of his hairs standing on end at the back of his neck.
“I jinxed it, didn’t I?” Jaskier asked though, this time, the question wasn’t aimed at anyone but himself. His whole body shuddered as the chill ran through him sharply. “This just won’t do. If I wake with hypothermia, it’s all Geralt’s fault. You heard it here first, Roach. Geralt let me freeze.”
There was the sound of movement behind him. Geralt had been fast in scouting the area.
“That was quick. You’re setting yourself a new record,” Jaskier said as he turned to greet him.
He was surprised to find… nothing. No Geralt .
Jaskier blinked in surprise, wrapping his arms around himself to fight off the sudden onslaught of cold. He had been sure he had heard footsteps. He looked at Roach, expecting her to have raised her head in alert as she usually did when sensing danger. However, she remained contentedly munching on the grass. He must’ve been imagining things.
In the slowly oncoming night, the forest was growing darker. Jaskier squinted at the foliage and saw nothing out of the ordinary. No person, no animal, just more trees. He simply squinted into the darkness between the trees. He was sure he had heard something but he concluded his mind must’ve been playing a funny prank on him.
That’s when he heard them. The whispers. It was as though hundreds of voices overlapped yet they spoke as a soft melody that had Jaskier’s shoulders relaxing. He stared into the empty treeline as he listened, but he saw no one speaking.
“ Jaskier, ” they whispered to him with voices like melted chocolate, “ Jaskier.”
“Jaskier?” Geralt’s voice had Jaskier whirling around.
Geralt was standing beside Roach, a few logs tucked under his arm. He was staring at Jaskier with pinched eyebrows. Jaskier had come to learn that was how he looked when something concerned him. How long had Geralt been standing there? Jaskier was sure he would’ve heard him coming.
Jaskier glanced back over his shoulder to the surrounding forest. There was nothing there, and he heard no more voices. He blinked several times.
“Jaskier, are you alright?” Geralt asked, still concerned as he watched Jaskier search the shadows.
Jaskier stared at the empty spaces between the trees for a second longer before turning back to face his Witcher. He must’ve been imagining things. Maybe he was sleep deprived, a lack of sleep does do strange things to people.
Right ?
He had heard stories of people hallucinating when deprived of sleep. Having met someone who had imagined horses in their washhouse, Jaskier had seen what lack of sleep could do to someone’s mind. So, he blamed it on the bad rest he’d been getting during their travels. That’s all it was, just his mind playing tricks on him.
“Another lovely, sleepless night under the stars,” Jaskier said, though no heat mingled with his sarcasm. He hoped it came across as playful and hid the strange sense of unease that had settled under his skin. “I couldn’t be any better.”
Upon seeing Jaskier was his normal self, Geralt’s expression relaxed into his ‘stoic hero’ face as Jaskier liked to call it. Though, in reality, he appeared more utterly done with Jaskier’s bullshit. He still kept a watchful eye on the bard for a moment longer.
“Anything out of the ordinary?” Jaskier asked as Geralt dropped the firewood in a pile. He was excited for the warmth to fight off the sudden chill still running through his bones. The firelight would chase away the lingering shadows encircling them and bring a comforting warmth.
“No,” Geralt replied.
“Blessed! I didn’t quite like the idea of being oh so rudely awoken by bandits again,” Jaskier said as perched himself on a conveniently fallen branch a little aways from the fire-to-be.
Geralt didn’t reply, instead moving his hands in a complicated pattern that Jaskier still had trouble keeping up with. He cast Igni on the firewood, setting them ablaze easily and gracing Jaskier with a delicious warmth. Yet, despite the much needed warmth, Jaskier still fought the urge to violently recoil.
Jaskier hooked his fingers into the groves in the branch, pulling it with him as he shuffled a little closer to the flames. He remained a distance away, close enough to feel its warmth but not close enough to completely chase away the chill. He had been trying to train himself out of his newfound fear for fire but it wasn’t going as well as teaching Geralt to sing — god awful and downright painful.
“So,” Jaskier started as he knew Geralt would not be starting a conversation any time soon, “What’s the plan once we reach town? If a trip to the tavern is not included in the itinerary, we’ll be having a long chat about depriving me of my necessities.”
“I’ll look at their notice board for a contract,” Geralt replied. He had sat himself opposite Jaskier, resigning himself to the ground instead of sharing the branch. It was too small for the both of them anyway. Then, with the slightest curl of his lips, he added, “And a drink would be nice.”
Jaskier counted that as a victory. He let out a triumphant, ‘ huzzah !’ which Geralt simply watched. The corners of his lips were still curled, betraying his amusement at the bard’s antics.
“Rarely ever do I say this, but I do hope there is a monster worth slaying,” Jaskier said. He picked up a stray stick beside him and poked the fire with it. “One that mildly inconveniences people with preferably no murder, of course. A wyvern stealing cattle, perhaps? You were right when you said we needed more coin.”
“I thought you were sure that your singing would earn us enough,” Geralt said.
“My singing is very good, Geralt, but not good enough to get me a new pair of walking boots,” Jaskier said. He flicked his stick into the fire in favour of raising his leg to wiggle his worn-down boot in front of Geralt. When the fire flowed lightly in his direction, he quickly retracted his leg to himself and stared accusingly at the fire. “After Nilfgaard took over Cintra, prices rose exponentially. It’s a crisis.”
“Those boots are fine,” Geralt said.
“No, they’re absolutely not. I can feel every tiny stone, every nook and cranny in the road. I need new boots,” Jaskier replied. Then, with the petulance of a child, he added, “my feet hurt.”
Geralt shrugged. “If there’s a contract, I’ll take it. Can’t do anything if there’s no monster.”
Jaskier sighed. Perhaps it was vaguely wrong of him to wish that there was something that would earn them the coin they needed to get him a new pair of boots and possibly a nice, warm jacket to fight this awful chill that just didn’t seem to go away — even the fire was doing very little to help.
“Is it really cold to you?” Jaskier asked, then remembered Geralt was a Witcher. The cold didn’t affect Geralt the way it did to Jaskier. He got cold but it took a lot more than just a light breeze to make him shiver. “Nevermind, don’t answer that.”
“You’re cold?” Geralt asked.
“Quite a bit, actually,” Jaskier said.
Geralt fully looked over at him and assessed the bard’s form. “I forget humans freeze easily.”
Jaskier pouted at him. “Is that your way of saying it’s actually a pleasant temperature?”
“Yes,” Geralt replied. “I’m not cold.”
“Well, whoop-dee-doo ! Good for you,” Jaskier said. “But I am going to freeze my tits off.”
Geralt rolled his eyes.
“We can share the bed roll again tonight,” he offered. “I don’t want you to get ill. I wouldn’t hear the end of it.”
Jaskier felt mildly giddy at the idea of being close to Geralt again. He didn’t want to seem too eager so he simply nodded.
“Alright, sharing a bed roll it is,” he said then pointed an accusing finger at Geralt. “I’m not that bad when I’m sick.”
“You thought your singing career was over when you had a simple cough,” Geralt said with a little smirk. “You told me that, if you were to never sing again, I should tell everyone that Valdo Marx cursed you. You said ruining his reputation would be the only thing that would make you better.”
“Blah blah,” Jaskier said as he waved a hand. “Why is it you only tell stories when I don’t want you to?”
“Because you won’t twist stories you don’t want to hear into a shitty song,” Geralt replied with a shrug.
“A shitty song?! Geralt, I thought we were friends,” Jaskier said with a gasp. He held a hand to his chest in mock offence but he knew that Geralt didn’t mean it.
Geralt simply huffed in amusement. The fire reflected in his eyes. It looked like they were glowing. Jaskier truly thought he was beautiful but that was his best kept secret, and one he would hold close to his chest until he was buried six feet under. It was a silly crush . He had had feelings for the man ever since he had seen Geralt sitting in that tavern. At first, those feelings had been purely driven by lust but, as the years went by, those feelings had morphed into something much softer and much, much deeper.
Jaskier had accepted that Geralt didn’t share the same feelings. The man had grown to tolerate Jaskier, had even called Jaskier his friend, but after years of Jaskier outwardly flirting with him and receiving nothing in return, Jaskier knew that it was unrequited. And when Geralt had chosen Yennefer barely a day after meeting her, Jaskier had realised that he would be nothing but a temporary companion. Geralt would never want him the way Jaskier wanted him.
It hurt but Jaskier couldn’t blame him. Yennefer was a powerful mage and, as much as hated to admit it, she was a magnificent woman. And, even worse to admit, he could truthfully say that she had grown on him. He didn’t see her so much as untrustworthy competition anymore, but he could see her slowly becoming a friend.
Geralt pulled out the stone she had given him from his pocket. He spun it between his fingers, eyes never leaving the tiny piece of rock. He would always do so whenever his mind would wander towards Ciri and Yennefer. Geralt didn’t like talking about his feelings but Jaskier knew that he had too many thoughts running through that head to be healthy. Jaskier would never forget the way Geralt’s expression had darkened when he had explained Yennefer’s betrayal. It had hurt him deeply.
However, Jaskier prided himself for always acknowledging there were several chapters to a story. There were always hidden meanings between the lines that no one had the heart to talk about.
“Ciri is safe with her,” Jaskier said.
Geralt looked up from the stone but he didn’t say anything.
“Yennefer may be a cold-blooded snake, but she would never hurt what’s most precious to you,” Jaskier explained. “Ciri is in good hands.”
“She was going to trade her for her magic,” Geralt said. He sounded like he’d rather listen to Jaskier rant about his top five poetic techniques instead of this.
“I’m not saying she should be excused,” Jaskier said slowly but honestly. “She had her back against the wall and had lost the very thing that made her feel whole. Haven’t we all reached rock bottom? I know that when I did, I would’ve made a deal with the devil’s ass for a strike of luck.”
“You’ve hit your rock bottom?” Geralt asked.
“We all have,” Jaskier said. “And that may not be my last rock bottom. I have many years left to live and only destiny knows what lies ahead. But I’m an avid believer that things will start to look up and the sun will shine on you again. It’ll be hard, but you just need to keep pushing through.”
“You trust her,” Geralt said.
He looked as though the mere thought of Jaskier having any positive regard for the witch was a puzzle in itself which was fair enough. Jaskier had never shown an inkling to liking her until he had snuck her onto that ship so it wasn’t a surprise that Geralt still thought Jaskier hated her guts.
“I trust her about as much as I can throw her which, I have to admit, isn’t quite far,” Jaskier said. “But I trust how much she cares for you and how much she’s growing to care for Ciri. ”
Geralt ran the stone across his knuckles with ease that Jaskier would’ve called magic. He looked as though he was thinking over Jaskier’s words.
“You speak highly of her,” Geralt said, then his lips twitched into a small smile. “I thought she was a ‘cold-blooded snake’.”
Jaskier laughed. “That was a rather tame insult, wasn’t it?”
“You’ve said better,” Geralt said. “And you’ve said much worse.”
“There’s something about the air around her,” Jaskier said with a fake shudder. “It’s as though she sucks out my creativity with her mere presence.”
“Or maybe, you just can’t think of anything good enough,” Geralt replied.
“Don’t underestimate my creative process, dear Witcher,” Jaskier warned and rested a hand on his hip. It didn’t have the same effect as he hoped due to his sitting position.
“I underestimate nothing,” Geralt said as he pocketed the stone again and leant back on his arms. “I’ve heard your music.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asked with a dropped jaw. “This is the second time you’ve insulted my music tonight. I’m going to write a song about you and your unwashed ass and then we’ll see why you should never underestimate the bard.”
Geralt hummed.
“Try ’hm’ing me when people believe that you’ve still got shit stuck to your ass hairs.”
Geralt simply rolled his eyes.
The rest of the evening was spent with Geralt marching off into the forest to hunt and returning to cook two small hares on the fire while Jaskier entertained himself with writing a new song. There had been a comfortable silence between them, one that Jaskier occasionally filled by asking for help on a rhyme. Geralt was as unhelpful as any and had given up on helping when Jaskier had told him so.
After they had fed and readied their bed rolls, Jaskier crawled under the shared fur blanket. Geralt joined him after making sure Roach was fed and well. Jaskier tried not to think much of the warmth pressed against his side but he happily welcomed it. It chased away the cold and, as Geralt’s presence often did, offered him comfort.
He still shivered lightly and, as he curled on his side, he pulled the blanket to his chin. It didn’t fend off the chill completely but he could deal with it. They’ve slept in swamps before where mud made the bed roll squelch and in barns that stunk of horse shit — he could deal with a little cold.
However, when he felt a strong arm around his waist tug his body closer to the furnace beside him, he felt his whole body relax. He and Geralt had been close like this on several occasions, they had shared a bed in a tavern more often than not, but it didn’t make it any less special to Jaskier. Geralt’s arm gave his midriff a light squeeze as if to ask if this was alright. Jaskier responded by placing a hand lightly on Geralt’s forearm and letting out a content sigh.
Falling asleep came easy that night.
……
Jaskier stared up at the gaping mouth of the cave. The sky was a dark red and the trees towered over him like an audience at his execution. It began to pour with heavy rain, unleashing the heavens from above. He was forced to quickly rush into the cave for cover, taking several steps away from the cave’s entrance to keep himself dry. The terrible archway of rock was lined with sharp stones that caught the edges of rainwater and let droplets cascade down their sides to further fall onto the floor below.
It was cold. Freezing. Jaskier had to wrap his arms tightly around himself to offer even an inkling of warmth. His whole body shivered violently and his teeth chattered. Yet, through the rain, the stun shone strong upon the forest.
“ Jaskier, ” came a soft voice from behind him.
He whirled around to face it. There was no one there. He realised it must’ve come from deeper within the cave.
“Hello?” He called. The only response was his echo.
Sending a look back at the rain that continued to pour outside, he took a step further into the cave then another then another. Soon, he was walking through the natural tunnel that led him further into the darkness. He knew he should probably turn back and wait for the storm to end but something drew him further into the cave. It was like he was a moth and the endless darkness was his flame.
“ Join us, ” another voice echoed ahead of him and made him halt in his steps. There was the sound of movement up ahead.
He squinted into the shadows but he saw nothing. In fact, he could barely see anything. All natural light had faded away and, even as his eyes adjusted, he could only see a metre ahead of himself at best. His hands immediately reached out around himself in search of the cave’s walls. It took him a long moment of panicked flailing before his hand rested on the uneven surface.
However, when he turned to see what his hand had landed upon, he felt his blood run cold.
A statue’s face stared back at him from between his fingers. Its beautiful features were carved into a light grey stone. He retracted his hand instantly with a nose of distress. It simply stared back at him with unseeing eyes.
“You scared me,” Jaskier said. “I didn’t see you there.”
The statue, as expected, didn’t reply. It was a strange place for a statue to be.
“Why are you here?” Jaskier asked slowly as he took a tentative step closer.
And to his horror, the statue simply smiled.
……
Jaskier awoke with a start, flying upright with wide eyes and a fast-beating heart. He quickly realised the sun had risen and the sky was becoming a pale blue.
“Good morning,” Geralt said.
Jaskier’s head spun to look at the man. He was standing beside Roach, feeding her an apple. He was in his armour and looked as though he was ready to set off. Luckily, he was unlike his past self and hadn’t simply ridden away and left Jaskier behind.
“Morning,” Jaskier replied as he ran a shaking hand through his hair.
“You alright?” Geralt asked.
“Yes,” Jaskier lied. If Geralt picked up on it, which he most likely did, he didn’t question it. He simply nodded with a huff. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“You looked like you were having a good dream,” Geralt said. “You needed the rest.”
A good dream? That had felt like a nightmare.
Geralt must’ve noticed something in Jaskier’s expression. “Was it not a good dream?”
Jaskier knew there was no point in lying. “No, it wasn’t.”
“Do you want to… talk about it?”
Jaskier shook his head. “No, but thank you. It was only a silly nightmare, nothing to worry about. And we need to get going, don’t we? I would like to be in that town with an ale in my hand in as little time as possible.”
It didn’t take long for Jaskier to fold the blanket and bedroll, handing it to Geralt so he could secure it to Roach’s saddle. The horse simply waited patiently, only nudging at Geralt’s shoulder when she grew restless which prompted him to run a gloved hand down her nose soothingly. When Geralt sat himself upon her saddle and nudged her into a light trot that Jaskier could easily keep up with, she let out a satisfied huff.
Jaskier walked beside them, lute in his hands and mind wandering back to the dream. The statue’s face, too beautiful, seared into his memory and, every time he closed his eyes, he could see that disturbing smile upon stone lips. If he really thought about it, he could still feel the cool surface of its face under his fingertips. He strummed his lute to a random tune in hopes of blocking the feeling out.
He knew he was being quieter than usual. Geralt recognised it too if the several side-eyed looks shot in his direction proved anything. The Witcher didn’t comment on it but Jaskier knew Geralt was keeping a watchful eye on him. He didn’t push Jaskier into conversation, simply accepting the silence with care. Jaskier piped up on occasion but not nearly enough as his usual, endless chatter he usually bombarded Geralt with.
“What rhymes with ghost?” Jaskier asked, voice easily penetrating the silence that had fallen over the pair. “And it can’t be ‘roast’.”
Geralt thought for a moment. “Host?”
“Your mind is a thing of wonders. Host! Perfect.”
“You’re still working on that song from last night?”
Jaskier nodded and sang a couple of his lines to him.
“It’s a work in progress, obviously.”
“What’s it going to be about?”
“A ghost who fell in love with the living,” Jaskier explained. “A tragic love story that may be quite relatable. We all want what we can’t have.”
“Hm.”
“I might test it out in town if I finish it by tonight,” Jaskier said. “If it gets a good response, I might just add it to my repertoire.”
“And if it doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll still add it to my repertoire. People will recognise talent eventually.”
“Hm.”
“‘Toss a Coin’ took a while to pick up and yet it now stands as one of the most famous bardic songs across the continent. Valdo Marx can only dream of creating a song like it.”
“Why do you hate Valdo Marx so much?”
“Because he is a talentless weasel who has an ego much larger than his pox-scarred cock. ”
Geralt snorted in amusement. “I don’t want to ask why you know that.”
“The answer is simple,” Jaskier said as he shot a sly smirk up at the Witcher. “Even my rivals want to sleep with me.”
The Witcher cocked an eyebrow at him. “I’m surprised you allowed him in your bed.”
“We were young and it was essay season,” Jaskier said as if that explained everything.
He didn’t really have much of a reason. He was just happy he managed to burn Valdo’s songbook the morning after — it wasn’t an evening he was particularly proud of. Then, he realised something: Geralt was asking him a lot of questions.
“You’re trying to tempt me into conversation,” Jaskier said with a suspicious squint.
“What?”
“You’re asking me questions. You never ask me questions.”
“I don’t?”
“There it is again! Why are you asking so many questions?”
“You’re being quiet,” Geralt said, obviously giving up on playing dumb.
“I am simply living in the moment, Geralt.”
“You’d talk more in the moment.”
“I thought you preferred silence,” Jaskier said.
“I do,” Geralt agreed but he looked down at Jaskier with a little frown. “It’s just strange when it’s with you.”
“Admit it,” Jaskier said with a grin. “You like when I talk.”
Geralt simply turned away from him with a huff. That was enough of an answer and Jaskier beamed .
“Oh ho ho! I’m telling everyone who ever doubted me when I said we were best friends,” Jaskier said proudly. “You enjoy my company.”
Before the mountain, Jaskier had never been sure. He had thought Geralt had tolerated him at best but, due to his crush that just didn’t seem to go away, Jaskier had followed after him and tried to change the world’s views on Witchers. He had been a lovesick puppy that Geralt seemed to be happy to be rid of. However, after the Djinn, Jaskier had hoped that, although Geralt didn’t feel the same way, he saw Jaskier as a friend. After that god-awfully traumatising experience, Geralt seemed to accept that Jaskier wasn’t going anywhere — he accepted that Jaskier was his friend but he hated to admit it.
“I do,” Geralt said, surprising Jaskier. That was all he offered but it filled Jaskier’s whole body with a comforting warmth.
“I think I’m growing on your brothers too,” Jaskier said. “Lambert didn’t threaten to kill me when I called him Lamb before we left. I’m convinced he likes me. And Eskel showed me the hot springs which I am very offended you didn’t tell me about by the way. And when he tells stories, he doesn’t leave out the details.”
“You’ll see them next winter,” Geralt said.
It was a casual comment but Jaskier could hear the question written between the lines. Do you want to come with me? And the answer was very easy.
“I’ll improve on my gwent skills then.”
That had Geralt smiling. It was something small but, on Geralt, it was everything.
The rest of the journey included a much chattier Jaskier and a quieter Geralt just as it should be. They kept a steady pace and they arrived in town exactly when they thought they would. Jaskier had been ecstatic when they had spotted the roofs poking out from between the trees.
Though, as they stepped foot in town, Jaskier felt a shift in the air. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and an involuntary shudder ran down his spine. A quick glance at Geralt showed he was the only one who noticed so he guessed it was just himself being dramatic.
However, as they continued to walk through the streets, Jaskier was sure people turned to stare. Jaskier wasn’t surprised due to towns’ tendencies to watch strangers as they walked down their cobblestone paths, especially when one was a Witcher. Usually, people would stare at Geralt as he passed them. Whether it was from relief or from fear, they would keep a close eye on the Witcher in town. But, as he glanced at the townspeople around them, he realised something. They weren’t staring at Geralt.
They were staring at him.