Chapter Text
Maybe the Gods had heard Jana’s prayer, or maybe Roach somehow understood why they needed to hurry, but Geralt made it back to the town he had left only yesterday evening before nightfall.
They were both completely soaked by the rain, just as Jana had foretold, Roach was steaming with it.
The imposter was still playing and singing at the inn, but Yennefer wasn’t there. Geralt asked around, scaring people with his frantic looks. People stammered something about not knowing anything and quickly walked away, like most of them had in Bellmare.
Geralt was beginning to understand that walking up to humans with a crazed look in his eyes and yelling a question at them maybe wasn’t the best way to get an honest answer, not if he didn’t follow through with some torture.
When he finally did run into someone brave enough to talk to him and found Yennefer it was, unsurprisingly, in some nobleman’s fancy mansion.
The man himself was nowhere to be seen, but Yennefer was dining at his table like she owned the place.
“Back already?” she asked. She tilted her head. “I can sense you knocked out my client’s guards outside. You’re not in a bad mood again are you?”
“Jaskier is very ill,” Geralt said. There was no time for small talk. “Will you help him?”
“Again?” Yennefer asked. She rose and walked up to him, deliberately slow, purposefully getting on his nerves. “Have you found another Djinn?”
“No,” Geralt said. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but he’s dying, and no healer can help.”
Yennefer raised her eyebrows. “Dying? And yet he left you? I’d never have guessed he was the self sacrificing type.”
“No more idle chatter,” Geralt said. “Please. I’ll do whatever you ask of me, I beg you.”
Yennefer smirked. “A begging witcher. That’s a good start.” She stepped even closer, until her breasts were very nearly touching his chest. She looked into his eyes and stood on her toes, bringing her mouth so close to his he could feel her breath on his lips.
Geralt didn’t flinch, he didn’t move and didn’t avert his eyes. If this was what she wanted, if it was what was necessary to save Jaskier, he would give it to her. He’d fucked without feeling so many times before. Why would this be any different?
Yennefer blew out a quick breath through her nose and stepped back. “Don’t you think I have any pride?” she asked. “We had a good time in Rinde, but then you hadn’t realised the depth of your feelings for him, or they had yet to grow to this level. I knew I didn’t have your heart back then, but now I see I won’t even have your mind.”
“Please,” Geralt said. “I’ll try. Anything you want.”
Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Oh well, I’m bored out of my mind anyway. I’ll just take your word that you’ll help me out some time in the future if I ever have need of you. It can’t hurt to have a witcher at my command.”
“I give you my word,” Geralt said.
Yennefer smirked. “Really, even if what I’ll ask of you is to kill a bunch of innocent people?”
Geralt clenched his jaw, but didn’t protest.
“My, my, I’m impressed,” Yennefer said. “Oh, stop looking so worried. I won’t ask that from you, I was just curious. Where’s your bard?”
“Bellmare. Can you teleport us there?” Geralt would much rather travel on horseback, but he felt there was no time to lose.
“Fine,” Yennefer shrugged. She made a face. “Let me guess, you’ll want to take your horse as well.”
Roach absolutely hated portals, even more than Yennefer hated spending the energy it took to enable her to pass through unharmed. Roach usually walked wherever Geralt led her without complained, but now she pulled her head back.
“Easy girl,” Geralt said. “I hate them too, but we need to get to Jaskier as fast as we can.”
Roach’s ears perked up at the mention of Jaskier’s name.
Jana was waiting for them just outside her little house. She didn’t seem at all surprised by a portal opening and closing mere meters from her front door. Maybe she’d witnessed magic at close range before, or her worry for Jaskier overruled any other feeling. She did seem very fond of him.
It was dark outside. The rain had passed. It had refreshed the air, but not completely extinguished the warmth the sun had left. It was a soft late summer night.
“How is he?” Geralt left Roach outside and sped past Jana, not waiting for an answer.
“No change,” the woman said behind him.
Jaskier lay unconscious on his bed by the fire, the flickering light of the flames reflected off the thin sheen of sweat on his face. Geralt could hear he had difficulty breathing again.
His hands hovered over Jaskier’s body, but there was nothing he could do. He shot Yennefer a helpless look.
“Yes, yes,” she said, stepping closer. “Move out of the way.”
Geralt stepped back.
Yennefer passed a hand over Jaskier’s face. “How long has he been showing these symptoms?”
“I don’t know,” Geralt said. “He wouldn’t talk to me about it.”
“I might be able to wake him up for a while,” Yennefer murmured. “Geralt, go…fetch some water from the well outside. Leave the door open, the fresh air will help him breathe.”
Geralt really didn’t want to go, but he understood Yennefer needed some space to work. He needed to see how Roach was doing anyway. He’d worked her hard today and then pulled her through a portal and his only thoughts had been with Jaskier.
Geralt quickly took Roach to the inn and payed a stableboy to take care of her. He pulled up a bucket of water from the well and was about to duck through the door of Jana’s house when something he heard Yennefer say stopped him.
“Geralt is outside. I have no fucking clue why you wouldn’t want him to know, since he cares about you more than anything, but you can talk freely now.”
“I just don’t want to be a burden to him,” Jaskier’s voice was weak but clear. Geralt breathed a sigh of relief at hearing him talk, but the words stung. “Not physically and not on his conscience either,” Jaskier said.
Geralt clenched his fist around the handle of his bucket as Yennefer snorted. “You’ve never worried about being a burden to anyone in your life, you thrive off annoying people.”
“Geralt is different,” Jaskier said quietly.
Geralt wanted to enter the house, to tell Jaskier that he wasn’t a burden to him at all, but he also wanted to hear what Jaskier had to say that he didn’t want Geralt to know.
“Stop questioning him about things that are not important right now,” Jana’s stern voice sounded.
“When did you first experience symptoms, bard? Have you been in contact with anyone who was ill? Have you been cursed?”
“No,” Jaskier said. “It was when I got these scars.” Geralt imagined he was pointing at his chest and arm, Jaskier didn’t have many other scars to speak of.
He almost dropped the bucket and gave himself away.
“At first I thought I was just weak from the blood loss, but it came and went in a pattern. Every couple of days I would feel ill. At first I could pass it off as a lack of sleep or drunkenness, but the spells happened more often and lasted longer.”
Something snapped inside Geralt and he had to put a hand on the roof of Jana’s house to keep himself standing. Jaskier had been ill all this time, even back when he was still traveling with him, back when he asked to be left behind, back when Geralt had just left without thinking anything of it.
Yennefer’s shout pulled him out of his daze. “Witcher! Stop lurking behind the door and get in here, I need your help!”
Geralt dashed inside and saw that Jaskier had lost consciousness again. Yennefer was removing his shirt and threw a frantic look over her shoulder.
“He’s been poisoned. The poison has been in his body far too long. If I don’t draw it out now we’ll lose him.”
“What do you want me to do?” Geralt asked.
“Hold him. This is going to hurt,” Yennefer said grimly.
Geralt put down his bucket and sat behind Jaskier on the bed. On Yennefer’s instructions he pulled Jaskier up into a sitting position against his chest and wrapped his hands loosely around Jaskier’s upper arms. Jaskier’s head rested lifelessly against Geralt’s shoulder. Geralt didn’t understand the need to hold him, surely he wasn’t in any state to struggle.
“He won’t break,” Yennefer said. “I need you to really hold him still. This requires a tricky branch of magic. I need to be able to focus and I can’t if he’s moving around.”
“I’ve got him, Yennefer,” Geralt said. “Get on with it.”
Yennefer threw him a glare. “Don’t tell me what to do again.” She lifted her hands and slowly waved them over Jaskier’s body, closing her eyes and speaking ancient words.
Jana’s fire almost completely died and then rekindled on its own. The house creaked around them.
Jaskier’s body shuddered against Geralt’s chest. Geralt tightened his grip on his arms. Jaskier remained unconscious, but Geralt could still feel he was in pain.
When Jaskier let out a pitiful moan, Geralt glared at Yennefer.
She still had her eyes closed, but she sensed his gaze on her. “Shut up, Geralt, this is necessary.”
“Can’t you give him something against the pain?” Geralt snarled.
“No, I’m removing a foreign substance from his blood, adding one would only make it more difficult.”
Jaskier was writhing now, fighting Geralt’s grip. Geralt had to hold on to his arms tight enough to probably leave bruises. He hated it.
When Jaskier’s eyes flew open and he screamed, Geralt wrapped his arms protectively around Jaskier’s upper body and growled at Yennefer.
Yennefer opened her eyes and took a step back, looking at Geralt warily.
“Calm down, big bad wolf,” she said. “If you try to bite me next I swear I’ll burn you to a crisp and your beloved bard with you. I’m trying to save him, you oaf.”
Geralt tried to calm himself down. Jaskier’s eyes had closed again and he was breathing fast, sagging against Geralt’s chest. His scream still rang in Geralt’s ears.
“I’m sorry,” Geralt said. “I’m sorry, I can do it.”
Yennefer stepped closer again. Her eyes were kinder than before. Maybe she didn’t like Jaskier very much, but Geralt could see she didn’t truly mean him harm.
“I’ll need to reopen one or both of the wounds. Don’t jump at me when he starts bleeding. The poison needs to leave his body.”
“Not the one on his arm,” Geralt said. “Please, if you can.”
Yennefer nodded. She looked more serious now than she had all evening, worried even.
Geralt pulled back his arms to grant her access to Jaskier’s chest and grabbed his arms again.
Geralt didn’t know if Jaskier could hear him, but he whispered reassurances against the side of his head. Jaskier’s hair clung to his forehead, covered in sweat. Silent tears were streaming from his eyes. Geralt would do anything, anything right this moment to take away his pain, except let him go. He couldn’t let Jaskier leave him, not like this.
“Hold on,” he whispered. “She’ll be done soon.” He didn’t know if that was true, but he hoped it was. Jaskier whimpered, almost as if he’d heard him.
Jaskier started screaming again when the edges of the cut on his chest were pulled apart by an invisible force and a green slimy fluid slowly seeped out, mixed with his blood.
Geralt held on to him tightly, and remained in control by chanting a mantra in his head. He was a witcher, he normally didn’t fear, he hunted beasts and monsters, he protected. He was protecting Jaskier right now. Yennefer was saving Jaskier, Jaskier would smile again, and talk and sing. Geralt was a witcher, and as long as Jaskier lived, he wouldn’t mind having one fear.
Yennefer seemed exhausted. She only managed to partly close the cut in Jaskier’s chest when all the poison was gone. Jana helped Geralt cover it in healing herbs and wrap it with fresh bandages.
They lay Jaskier down on his pillow and covered him with the blanket. Yennefer pressed her palm against his forehead.
“The poison is gone and I’ve put him in a healing sleep. If he wakes up, he’ll live.”
“Thank you,” Geralt said. He wasn’t looking at her but at Jaskier. When he reached out to feel Jaskier’s temperature, Yennefer stopped him. “No touching.” She turned around and left the house.
Geralt followed her outside. “Thank you,” he said again, “truly.”
“Don’t forget your promise,” Yennefer said. She suddenly turned around, pressed a brief kiss to Geralt’s cheek and whispered an ancient word. “Now I’ll know where to find you if I have need of you.”
“I won’t forget,” Geralt said.
Yennefer turned away as if she was about to leave, then changed her mind and looked back at him.
“The monster that poisoned him, you killed it?”
“Yes,” Geralt said.
Yennefer nodded. “Impressive.”
“Do you know what it was?” Geralt asked.
“I’ve never seen one myself. I’d heard of them, and I saw its image in the bard’s eyes. They were created a long time ago, by a very powerful but bitter sorceress.”
“To what purpose?” Geralt asked. Jaskier had a talent for angering people, but personally insulting a sorceress who lived long before he was even born seemed a little out of his league.
“To hurt people like she’d been hurt,” Yennefer said. “Someone broke her heart, I guess, no one knows exactly what happened. She’s disappeared, so we can’t ask her. Not many of her monsters have survived either. They are very powerful, but they have a vital design flaw. They’re programmed to instil a slow and painful death on a loved one of anyone who threatens them.”
Geralt drew in a sharp breath. He had been the one who threatened the monster. It was him who unleashed it on Jaskier.
“That defence only works when everybody knows about it and it scares them enough to not even try,” Yennefer continued. “When someone, foolishly,” she gave him a pointed look, “attacks the beast and it does its thing, its attacker will be so enraged by the maiming of a loved one that he thereby gains the power to kill it.”
It was true Geralt had only been able to kill the monster when he thought it had killed Jaskier. “What power is that?”
“You’re the only one I know who’s actually killed one of these. You should know,” Yennefer said.
She sighed when she saw the confusion on his face.
“Okay, it makes me throw up a little into my mouth to actually admit to this, but love is one of the most powerful sources of magic there is. I’ve never felt it, not true love anyway, so I don’t know what it’s like, but I’ve seen what it can do.”
Geralt was still looking at her with a blank expression on his face.
“Fuck, Geralt,” Yennefer exclaimed. “You love him, you complete, utter idiot! How much proof do you need?” She punched his chest. “You have a heart in here, and it feels, it feels so much, it’s written all over your face. How are you so bent on ignoring this?”
Geralt opened his mouth, but Yennefer shushed him and pointed a finger at his face. “Don’t you ‘witcher training’ me. How long has that been? Start thinking and feeling for yourself again. If that skill had truly been mutated out of you, the both of you would have been dead by now.”
Yennefer looked away, her eyes roaming over the sleeping town around them.
“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I wish I had what you have.” She sighed. “But honestly, it’s probably an inconvenience most of the time. Take care, Geralt. When he wakes up, tell your bard that I sifted through his mind and think his song ideas are awful.”
Geralt sat on an old chair in the corner of Jana’s house, watching Jaskier sleep.
Sunlight was starting to filter through the two tiny windows, along with the sounds of the town waking up.
Jaskier’s chest rose and fell in an even rhythm. Geralt could hear his heart beating steadily.
Geralt also heard the shuffling of feet and saw a shape moving through the shadows in the house, but as long as it didn’t seem like a threat, he kept his eyes on Jaskier.
Jana held a steaming bowl of stew in front of his face.
“Thank you,” Geralt said, waving his hand. “I’m not hungry.” The bowl was obstructing his view of Jaskier. He slightly altered his posture so he could see over it.
Jana didn’t take the hint. “Eat,” she said, “you’ll feel better.”
Geralt didn’t need to feel better, he needed Jaskier to be better. He shook his head.
Jana simply pushed the bowl into his hands. Said: “Eat.” And left.
Geralt grudgingly picked up the spoon.
Half the morning had passed and there was no change in Jaskier. He was still breathing evenly and no pain had registered on his face since Yennefer left.
Jana had gone to the market and returned. She chatted away about how it was turning into a warm a warm sunny day outside, and that some people had asked her how Jaskier was doing. She complained that the people in this town were cowards who feared illnesses so much they would have let their beloved bard die if it wasn’t for her. Geralt ignored her until she walked up to Jaskier and reached out to touch his face.
Geralt jumped up. “Don’t touch him! Yennefer said-”
“Calm down.” Jana raised a hand to stop him from pushing her away, as if a frail old lady could stop a witcher. Still, Geralt froze. “Didn’t you notice that witch was teasing you? I don’t know why a good man like yourself would be acquainted with such a horridly jealous woman anyway.”
As she talked, Jana started fussing over Jaskier, stroking his hair and rearranging the blanket.
“She saved our bard, but I bet you that’s just about the only good she’s done in her dozen lifetimes. She saw you hurting and just decided to play a little game with it. You’ve a better heart than she does, the way I look at it.”
Geralt grunted. Seeing how Jaskier was still peacefully asleep, Jana was probably right about Yennefer lying to him. Come to think of it, Yennefer had joked to him about Jaskier’s death before. Geralt hated that, but still, he didn’t agree with the old woman. To compliment him at Yennefer’s expense was unfair. “I’m not a better person than she is.”
“This a precious boy right here.” Jana said, smiling down at Jaskier and completely ignoring Geralt’s comment.
Geralt wondered if she knew her ‘precious boy’ used to regularly sleep with other people’s wives, often managed to enrage an entire room full of people by singing a single verse, and had wished death by Djinn on a fellow musician at the first opportunity he got. But he decided not to bother informing her. She probably wouldn’t care anyway, the way she bathed Jaskier in motherly love.
Maybe it was as simple as that, all she saw in Jaskier was someone in need of a mother, and that was enough.
“And you love him so much,” Jana said.
She was looking at him now.
The last rays of sunlight were disappearing behind a neighbouring house when Jaskier finally stirred.
Geralt dropped to his knees next to the bed as Jaskier’s eyes slowly blinked open and found his.
“You’re still here,” Jaskier said, his voice barely more than a whisper. It would take a while before he could sing again.
Jaskier pushed himself up on his elbows and seemed surprised at his own strength. His skin had regained its natural colour and his eyes their striking blue, without any signs of fever.
“Of course I am,” Geralt said. He didn’t cry, because witchers don’t.
Jaskier blinked at him.
“Don’t leave me again,” Geralt said. “I don’t like it.”
“Oh…” Jaskier sat up even straighter. “You so said that! I know you’re going to tell me to shut up and never mention it again, but you meant that, I know you did, you don’t lie. And I will never ever let you forget-mmh”
Geralt had moved forward and kissed him.
Jaskier froze.
With anyone else Geralt might have worried that they were scared, and he was forcing them into something they didn’t want, but not with Jaskier. Jaskier had never been afraid of him. If this wasn’t what he wanted, he’d push Geralt away.
Jaskier’s eyes fluttered shut and Geralt knew this was definitely something he wanted when his hands came up and he wound his fingers in the fabric of Geralt’s shirt, pulling him closer.
Geralt obliged and pushed on, leaning over Jaskier and finally crawling over him onto the bed, pressing him down on his back until his head was resting on the pillow again.
Then he pulled back, stood up and pulled the blanket up to Jaskier’s chin.
Jaskier was looking at him with big bright eyes. He remained stunned for a moment longer, but when he realised Geralt was just going to leave it at this he pushed up on his elbows again and loudly voiced his protest.
“You…you can’t! You can’t just kiss me like that and crawl over me with your incredibly hot witcher body and just leave it at that!”
“Not now, Jaskier,” Geralt said. “You need to save your energy and recover.”
“To hell with that.” Jaskier pulled his arms from under the blanket and reached out for him. “Come back. Get your sexy ass over here.”
Geralt gently but firmly pushed him back down again, holding him down with the blanket this time.
“If you behave now, we can continue later.”
Jaskier opened and closed his mouth but no sound came out.
Maybe, after all this time, Geralt had finally discovered something that would shut Jaskier up.
Geralt’s heart filled with something that very much resembled but probably wasn’t joy. Joy probably wasn’t a feeling witchers experienced.
He’d missed this.
Jaskier was soon strong enough to stand up and move around. The very first place he demanded to go was the inn’s stables to visit Roach. Geralt indulged him, and had to bite back a smile when he witnessed the pure happiness his horse expressed at being reunited with her favourite bard, while Jaskier fussed about nonexistent tangles in her manes and asked her if Geralt had been taking care of her at all.
Jana was happy too, and Jaskier thanked her for everything she’d done for him by playing any song she requested, however many times she wished. His voice wasn’t back to its usual smoothness yet, but it was a beautiful sound nonetheless.
Jaskier had thanked Geralt for returning his lute by pressing a soft kiss against his cheek, which, to Geralt, meant more than either words or music could express.
Despite all the happiness, they still had to talk. Jaskier knew this too. Even Jana did. She didn’t complain when Geralt asked Jaskier to follow him outside one evening, even though she usually fussed about Jaskier catching a cold.
They walked to the edge of the town in silence. It was a clear night. Autumn was well on its way and the stars shone nearly as bright as they did in winter. There was a chill in the air.
When Jaskier shivered, Geralt draped the new cloak he’d bought around his shoulders.
Jaskier stroked the soft fur and looked at him with big eyes that reflected the moonlight.
“Don’t thank me,” Geralt said when Jaskier opened his mouth to probably do just that. “Instead, tell me why you kept it from me. You knew you were ill, you knew it had to do with the monster. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Jaskier lowered his eyes. “I promised,” he said.
“What?”
“I promised you that if I got hurt bad enough that I’d start holding you back, I’d leave you be.”
Geralt vaguely remembered this promise, although not the exact words. Clearly it had meant a lot more to Jaskier than it did to him at the time. He’d never needed any promises to let Jaskier tag along. He could have escaped him any time he wanted. All he had to do was leave as Jaskier was sleeping, or spur on Roach until Jaskier wouldn’t be able to keep up. Letting Jaskier follow him had always been by his choice.
“The last thing you want is someone needing you,” Jaskier continued. “I already held you back too much after I got hurt. Don’t think I didn’t notice you took on contracts you didn’t like because of me.”
Geralt wanted to say something, but Jaskier shook his head.
“Just let me…say this. When I felt there was something wrong with me, I decided I had to let you go on and find a healer. I truly planned to catch up with you again later. But then no one could help me, and it got worse, and I thought would be easier for both of us if you didn’t know. I wanted you to remember me as that cheerful bard that followed you around for a while, not as a burden holding you back.”
Geralt cupped Jaskier’s cheek and forced him to look at him. Jaskier’s eyes were filled with tears but fierce and determined.
“I need you,” Geralt said, slowly, carefully. “You’re not a burden. You never were. When I fought the monster, back when…when you got hurt, I was losing. It was too strong for me. But I knew that if I let it hit me, it would come for you, so I dodged sooner and didn’t fight as recklessly as I usually would. Before that fight I didn’t care if a monster got one or two hits in and made me bleed a bit. I went back to fighting that way after I left you here. I almost lost a fight again just a few weeks ago.”
Jaskier frowned and opened his mouth to say something, but Geralt brushed his thumb across his lips to silence him.
“And when I thought it had killed you I just, I gained a power I had never felt before.” Geralt looked down and was quiet for a while, then he looked up, into Jaskier’s eyes again. “You’re worth living for Jaskier. You’re worth fighting for. You make me stronger. I need you.”
Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s shoulders and buried his face in his neck.
“You’ve never talked that much before,” he said. “I didn’t know you could.”
Geralt returned the hug and buried his face in Jaskier’s hair, breathing in the scent of him, sweet and healthy. “I don’t mind letting you doing the talking for me.”
Jaskier pulled back with a broad smile on his face. “I can do that,” he said. “I’m pretty good at talking. Geralt?”
“Hmm.”
“I love you.”