Summary: What if Jaskier never spends that coin Geralt gave him in Posada.
No matter what happened, how hungry and desperate he was, Jaskier always saves it, it’s his good luck charm. It’s a reminder than good things can always turn up in unexpected places and change your life forever.
You can read this on AO3 if you prefer!
Sometimes ago I published that headcanon I used as a summary and my friends from the TAD group chat suggested that @helllucifer and myself could turn it into a fanfic each. So here’s mine.
@abluescarfonwaston who asked to be tagged :)
M/M, Gen, Hurt/Confort, dealing with feelings like adults, post episode Rare Species, injured!Jaskier, protective!Geralt, Geralt is an idiot
Geralt barely has time to cross the Inn threshold before a big looking man accosts him. He’s been riding for three days since his last hunt, he’s tired and starving and really wishes he could have a hot bath before someone sets him on another meaningless drowner hunt, for the third time in a row.
“Ah, Witcher you’re finally here!”
“Why? Do you have a contract for me?” Geralt asks, a little annoyed.
“No, I don’t. But we’ve got your bard! We’ve been waiting for you to collect him. Well… no, not exactly. Maybe, just talk some sense into him? He’s been trying to leave this morning, we’ve nearly had to tie him to the bed!”
“My bard?” Geralt asks, too startled to answer anything else.
“Yes. Aren’t you the White Wolf? The Witcher who travels with a famous bard? He’s here, upstairs. Wants to leave but he’s in no condition.”
Geralt’s heartbeat picks up a little.
“Jaskier is here? What happened to him?” he stammers, looking up as if he could find Jaskier through the ceiling, barely stopping himself from running up the stairs.
“That fool went at it with a couple of thieves right out of town. Gave time to my niece and her friend to escape back to the village to tell us what had happened. By the time we got there, they were already gone and the bard was lying half-dead on the ground! But I gather he gave as good as he got, there was plenty of blood around that wasn’t his.”
“Fuck,” is the only thing Geralt can say, a cold shiver making his way down his spine. His eyes travel back to the innkeeper.
“We got him back to the village and put him in one of the rooms here. Our healer has been taking care of him. He slept through the night and the next day. He woke up last night for a little bit and again this morning. He was pretty adamant he needed to leave and put up a fight when we wouldn’t let him go but in the end, he couldn’t walk for long alone anyway. He’s been sleeping on and off since noon, my wife’s been checking on him.”
“How bad are his injuries?”
“The healer says he’ll live, he just needs rest. They kicked him and beat him pretty good. He’s got a couple of deep cuts, ribs are in a bad way but he’ll be okay. He’s a tough one. The girls said he fought tooth and nail to save them. They took all his money. His clothes were all over the ground but we recovered everything we could from his pack. Don’t really know if he had anything of value with him they might have taken thought.”
“His lute. Did they take it?”
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