Jaskier opened gritty eyes to a room he didnât recognize. Rubbing his face, he sat up, wondering whereâ
The bard blinked, surprised at the sound of Geraltâs voice. He turnedâ
âWhat happened to you? You look awful!â
The witcherâs face didnât even twitch, which was likely more a testament to the manâs apparent exhaustion than Jaskierâs blurted observation. In Jaskierâs defense, though, the man hadnât seen the witcher look so sicklyâŚwell, ever. The manâs eye bags had eye bags, his face was even paler than normal, and his hair was half out of its usual ponytail in rather uneven chunks.
Overall, it looked rather like the witcher had spent the past three days ill too.
Which reminded Jaskierâ
Geralt stared, looking at Jaskier likeâŚwell, like he was some sort of striped unicorn.
Jaskier tried not to wince at how gravelly the witcherâs voice sounded. Clearly the man had been through something while Jaskier wasâŚotherwise preoccupied. A point for later investigation, he mentally reminded himself, trying not to lose his caravan of thought.
âYou know, not pulling my weight the past few days. Iâll make it up to everyone though! I have this wonderful recipe from the cook who worked for my family, it makes rabbit tasteââ
Jaskier blinked, surprised at the hands that were gently pushing him back onto the mattress heâd been trying to get off of. Honestly, he wasnât sure whose room this was, but heâd been trying to leave before the owner came by and kicked him out.
When he opened his mouth to say this, however, he soon found himself gaping as Geralt manhandled him into lying back down.
âGeralt, what are youââ
Jaskierâs jaw clicked shut, and he stared as Geralt tilted his head, hand still splayed wide against Jaskierâs chest. He told the bard to breathe in deeply once, twice, and Jaskier found himself doing so, absolutely bewildered.
The feeling didnât change as Geraltâs hand found his forehead, tension leaking from the witcherâs shoulders at whatever he found there. But then Geralt was smelling his wrist, and this was getting decidedly weirdâ
âGeralt, Iâm fine. Seriously, I donât know whatâs happened to you, butââ
The witcher gave Jaskier the most withering look the bard had ever seen on his face before, even after that one time in Toussaint. Which, Jaskier maintained still wasnât completely his faultâ
âYou donât get to say youâre fine, Jaskier.â Geralt rasped, grip tightening around the hand he still held.
âYou almost died, Jaskier!â Geralt growled, voice suddenly vicious in a way that reminded Jaskier far too much of the last time he and the witcher had such a heated conversation on top of a mountain.
For some reason, it was that thought which made Jaskier snap. The idea that no matter how hard he tried, Geralt would always leave him behind, orâor be pissed off, when Jaskier apparently didnât have the decency to be sick elsewhere.
âOh, Iâm so sorry, Geralt. How dare I barge into your home, and demand that you take care of me. How could I beg you to set aside some of your precious time for one measly, useless bard.â Jaskier yanked his hand back, sitting up and resolutely plowing on when he saw the witcherâs mouth open.
âBut wait, it wasnât me who asked to be here, was it? And I certainly didnât ask you toâto barge into the abandoned room on the other side of the keep I found, and bring me toâwherever this is!â Jaskier waved his hand around the room.
And maybe he could have stopped there. Geralt seemed less angry, and if Jaskier didnât know any better, the man looked almostâŚguilty. But that wasnât an emotion the witcher ever had, not when it came to Jaskier, and that just pissed off the bard all over again.
âSo no, I didnât ask you for help, and I certainly never intended to be such a burden to you. Iâm well aware that if you could, youâd have foisted me off on some poor inn keeper or healer if I so much as sniffled.â
Jaskier sneered, expression apparently so violent that Geralt physically took a step back. Jaskier used the extra space to stand, ignoring how dizzy the movement made him.
âNow, Iâm going to go start shoveling out the stables. If you need somethingâGeralt!â
Jaskier growled at the arms wrapped tightly around him, pinning his own down. He squeaked as he found himself dragged backwards, in the opposite direction from the door heâd been walking towards. Seriously, what did the witcher want?! Heâd been perfectly clear earlier about the idea of Jaskier lazing about, so whyâ
Jaskier blinked up at the ceiling, wondering how heâd ended up back on the bed, this time with the witcher underneath him. What was happeningâ
Jaskier froze, brow furrowing at the words.
âI didnâtâYennefer found you, and you wereâif Iâd just looked, maybe it wouldnât have been so badâif Iâd justââ
Jaskier blinked, trying to make sense of the Witcherâs mangled explanation. He vaguely recalled purple eyes andâcaterpillars? But he wasnât sure what was real or not, his fever having gotten rather high very early on this time.
Jaskier cleared his throat.
âGeralt, it wasnâtâŚthere was nothing you could doââ
âNo, Jaskier.â The arms around him tightened once, before loosening. âYouâyou tried to tell me, and I justâI ignored you, accused you of being lazy, like youâre not the most hard-working human Iâve ever metââ
âOkay, Geralt, now we both know thatâs a bit of a stretchââ
âNo, Jask, youâreââ Geralt exhaled heavily out his nose, the warm air tickling Jaskierâs neck. âYouâll complain until I want to stick paper in my ears to find some peaceââ
âBut no lazy human can keep up with a witcher, through rain or sun, or start an entire operation to help save a race he doesnât belong to, or climb a mountain just to help aâa friend, who doesnât appreciate him nearly as much as he ought.â
And thatâŚJaskier swallowed the lump in his throat, refusing to start crying right now, not when he was literally still on top of the hulking man that was the cause of said tears.
âI almostâŚyou stopped breathing, Jaskier. I didnâtâŚa few seconds more, if the fever hadnât justâjust vanished, like it had never even been thereââ
Jaskier could hear how ragged Geraltâs own breathing was, and he couldnât exactly blame the other. It must have beenâŚstrange, to see Jaskier go from being deathly ill to perfectly fine within a matter of seconds.
âThe three days couldnât have ended at a better time, then.â Jaskier mused, only realizing heâd said the words out loud when he felt Geralt stiffen beneath him.
âIn my defense, I would have gotten sick regardless! And I did try to tell you.â
The bard tried not to shiver at the growl he felt through the witcherâs chest.
âI, uhm, kind of made a deal. With a fae.â
ââŚJaskier, you knowââ
âIn my defense, I made the deal before that incident!â
âBefore? Jaskier, whenââ
âYou remember that time we came across that ring of mushrooms, right before we separated for the winter?â
The witcherâs arms grew tighter as he spoke through gritted teeth, âyou mean the fairy ring I explicitly told you to avoid?â
âI repeat, in my defense, you didnât explain why, so Iââ
âIf you just listened, for once in your lifeââ
âYou know what? I donât need to explain myself to you. If youâd be so kind as to unhand me, Iâll gladly make my way back to my room!â Jaskier pushed against the unyielding grip on him. âI canât grant you your one lifeâs blessing quite yet, but Iââ
âNo, Jaskier, you canâtâyouâre too weak, youâll get sick againââ
Jaskier laughed, a brittle sort of thing.
âI assure you, Geralt, you donât have to worry about me getting sick any time soon. Iâll be out of your hands by the next time I so much as sneeze, soââ
âJaskier, thatâs not what Iââ
Geralt cut himself off, inhaling sharply.
âI donâtâI didnât mean, what I said. On the mountain. I wasâangry, and I took it out on you, becauseâbecause youâre always fine, no matter what I say or do, but thatâs notâit wasnât fair. To you.â
Jaskier swallowed, mouth dry as he closed his eyes against the prickling sharpness.
âI made the deal with the fae, so that Iâd never get sick on the Path again. So that IâdâŚIâd always be prepared, and notââ
Jaskier listened to the wind beating against the walls of the keep, the crackle of the fire.
âFor twenty years, Iâve been fine, Geralt. And I canâtâI canât do it anymore.â
âNo, you donâtâI canât keep being yourâyour beating bard, or whatever you want to call it. I amââ
Jaskier laughed wetly, biting back the whine that wanted to crawl out.
âI am tired.â He whispered, as if it was his greatest confession. The admission of weakness made his stomach twist even now, a remnant of the fear he had every time he admitted to being less than perfect to the witcher.
âI am soâŚso tired.â
Jaskier didnât dare to even breathe, waiting for Geralt to push him away. To tell the bard he wasnât worth the effort, even with the coin he earned. Maybe if he braced for the rejection, mentally prepared for it, he couldâ
Jaskier tensed. That wasnâtâŚwhat?
Geralt moved his arms, and that made more sense. He was just apologizing for having to get rid of the bard, whichâŚthat made sense. And Jaskier could help with that, could at least turn to let the witcher push him offâ
Jaskier squeaked as he was pulled back down, this time with his head half-smushed into Geraltâs chest.
âI said no leaving the bed, bard.â
Jaskier glared at the black fabric under him.
âYou havenât eaten anything in three days. Youâre dehydrated. And, while you might not get sick now, it could make next winter worse. Right?â
Jaskier frowned, grunting out an affirmative. It would figure that now, when Jaskier wanted to just lick his wounds in peace, Geralt wanted to talk.
âWell, itâs not like food and water are just going to miraculously appear, dear witcher.â Jaskier snarked, turning his head so that Geralt could hear him.
The witcher grumbled, but seemed to see Jaskierâs point, gently rolling Jaskier onto his back on the side of the bed next to the wall.
Jaskier thought that heâd get a chance to slink back to his room, and was already looking around to try to find where his clothes had gone, when Geralt simply grabbed a bowl from the desk. A bowl which had some sort of soup or broth in it already, that the witcher heated with a quick igni.
Geralt carefully handed him the bowl, only letting go once he was sure the bard had a steady grip. Jaskier stared down at the opaque liquid with small chunks of veggies and meat. He couldnât remember the last time heâd been so annoyed at being given food.
It was utterly ridiculous.
âEat.â Geralt urged, looking like he was about to grab the spoon and start feeding the bard himself.
Jaskier took a tentative bite, eating more quickly when he realized that he was a lot hungrier than he thought, and the soup was well seasoned. Still, he was only able to finish half a bowl before he had to stop, which seemed to bother Geralt if his scowl was anything to go by.
âGeralt, itâs fine. I justâŚhavenât eaten much lately.â
The witcherâs eyes narrowed, and Jaskier looked away, wondering if Geralt knew how long âlatelyâ was. If the witcher was aware that the meals he didnât show up to, he didnât bother making up.
Still, Geralt just grunted, apparently accepting Jaskierâs explanation for now as he took the bowl away.
And then Geralt was wrapping him up in furs, practically tucking him inâ
âGeralt, I just woke upââ
âAnd you spent the last three days fighting to breathe with fluid in your lungs and a fever so high it should have caused brain damage. You need rest.â
âI can rest in my own room, then. Not wherever this is. Seriously, Geralt, whoseââ
Geralt gave him a funny look, as if he was second guessing Jaskier not having brain damage.
âYour room isnât fit to sleep in. Youâll stay in mine, at least until we can find one where you wonât lose your fingers to frostbite.â
And that wasâŚJaskier rather liked his fingers. Rather needed them, too. Heâd just assumed all the rooms in the keep were dreadfully drafty and cold, but he had to admit, this oneâGeraltâs, apparentlyâwas much warmer than the one heâd been using. And, admittedly, he wasnât exactly eager to go back to the frigid space, so he simply hummed in response, glancing around the room with more interest now.
âSleep, Jaskier. It will be here when you wake.â
âŚJaskier definitely didnât blush as he closed his eyes, not the slightest bit embarrassed at his curiosity. It was just the heat, from all the furs.
Jaskier turned to the right, then the left, trying to get comfortable. He was, unfortunately, still exhausted, but even though his body craved rest, his mind would not be quiet.
What would happen, when Jaskier woke up? Would Geralt try to find a way to break the blessing (curse)? The witcher had apologized, with real words, but would that actually change anything? Could Jaskier bring himself to believe the witcher, or was he just setting himself up to be hurt again. Andâ
Jaskierâs eyes flew open as Geralt grabbed his hand, looking rapidly between their conjoined appendages and Geraltâs face.
âRest, Jask.â The witcher leaned forward, calloused fingers reaching out to gently slide Jaskierâs eyelids shut. The bard breathed out as he did so, letting go of tension he wasnât aware he was holding.
âIâll be here when you wake.â
And thatâŚit didnât fix everything. It didnât erase twenty years of being abandoned and yelled at and ignored. But it was a start. Enough, at least, for Jaskier to relax into the mattress beneath him, drawn to the land of slumber by the pull of exhaustion and the soothing circling of Geraltâs thumb over his knuckles.
But for now, at least, it was enough.
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