Chapter Text
The last thing Jaskier expects when he wakes up - not that he expected to wake up at all - is to feel comfortable and content.
It just doesn't seem to be that kind of day...week…life for him.
As far as he can tell, he's lying on his belly on rather uneven and irregular ground. And yet, he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. All he feels is…peace and comfort.
So naturally, trying to open his eyes is out of the question. Who knows what's waiting for him once he makes it known that he's awake?
What if this relaxed feeling is all just some sort of hoax and as soon as he opens his eyes he'll realise that he's about to be punched by elves, thrown across the room by magic, choked by a djinn, eaten by a dragon or whatnot?
No, thanks. Jaskier can quite do without all of that for a while. He's very content with just keeping his eyes closed and enjoying not being in pain for as long as it lasts. Who knows when he'll get that chance again?
But of course, curiosity wins out in the end. Cursed be his nature!
Jaskier slowly opens his eyes.
Even before his sight can adjust to the dim light around him, the first thing he notices is that his second set of eyelids remains firmly closed. Those thin, transparent membranes enable him to see without salt water and the likes irritating his eyes. So if they remain in place over his eyes that can only mean that he must be under water.
Which would explain the easy contentment he feels.
Still, it's suspicious.
How did he get here, wherever here even is?
Jaskier shuffles around until his back rests against the slimy, algae covered ground beneath him and he can look up. Thick sunbeams glint through the water not far above him.
So the water Jaskier’s in must be fairly shallow, only just enough to encompass all of him.
It's also not a very large space he's in and trying to move requires a certain level of shuffling and contorting his body at odd angles.
All around him are smooth walls of tightly packed earth and neatly stacked stones. The walls are equally covered in algae, but there are no barnacles or anything of the sort.
All in all, it leaves only but one conclusion about his whereabouts.
But how in the world did he end up in an artificial garden pond?
Jaskier doesn't trust this whole situation at all.
To be fair, the last thing he remembers is a series of incoherent fever dreams, so he can't really know what actually happened around him. But even if he managed to drag himself to this little pond somehow, Jaskier is pretty sure he should still be writhing in pain from the infected wound in his side. Not that he's complaining, but the gash wouldn't just have healed even if he's in water since that cursed collar is still subduing his magic.
Instinctively, Jaskier’s hands dart to his neck.
The collar is gone.
The only trace that it was ever there in the first place is a certain soreness of the delicate gills on his neck that were unpleasantly squished by the collar before.
Jaskier shifts around some more and tilts his head until he can get a good look at the gash in his side.
Like this, he can see that his torso is still wrapped in bandages, though they are crusted with already long since dried blood and have come quite loose. Some strands of the dirty linen even float freely in the water, revealing what's underneath.
The sword wound is healed, his skin unblemished, as if it had never been there.
"Oh," Jaskier blurts out, surprised.
And for the first time in months, he can hear his own voice.
Naturally, after the first moment of shock about this development passes, he immediately starts singing. Nothing fancy, just a short, wordless tune, but he absolutely has to make sure that his voice is really working again.
The melody echoes eerily through the water.
Just like it always had.
Just like it's supposed to.
Before Jaskier can properly marvel at the sound of his own voice, though, there's a splash and the water around him shifts violently.
Oh fuck.
Since he's in some sort of garden pond, of course, that means there are humans around. They don't just build themselves!
And the thing that just fell into the water is definitely a human!
Just his luck. Jaskier has barely gotten a moment to breathe, and already he managed to alert yet another enemy to his presence! How could he have been so careless?
Even if it's not the people that held him prisoner for so long, humans don't usually take kindly to sirens just chilling in their backyard.
The human that just jumped into his pond is probably packed with deadly weapons and tons of muscles and determined to take him out!
Gods, Jaskier is just so tired of being hunted.
All he wants is to relax, only for a moment! Is that so much to ask?
And what kind of wicked trap is that silver stuff floating around the human's head?
Oh.
Yeah.
Right, so at a closer look, that human in his pond actually turns out to be Geralt.
And judging by the continuous stream of bubbles leaving his mouth and nose, he seems to be in the process of drowning.
In a shallow garden pond.
Jaskier sighs, grabs the struggling and panicking figure by the back of his shirt and hauls both their upper bodies over the edge of the pond.
"Why the hell did you jump into the water?" Jaskier yells, more to hear his voice again rather than expecting an answer from the gasping and coughing Witcher beside him.
"Why the fuck…," Geralt nonetheless splutters between gaping breaths, "did you...sing?"
"What? Oh come on!" Jaskier shrieks in offence. "That little tune would've barely had an effect on an ordinary human, let alone a magic resistant Witcher!"
"It'll have an effect on a witcher, alright-" a familiar voice chimes in.
Jaskier snaps his head around until his eyes fall on Yennefer, standing a few feet away in front of an immaculately trimmed hedge. The occasional strand of late afternoon sunlight falling through the leaves douses her in an almost otherworldly twilight making Her look like a terrible goddess of death and revenge even more than usual.
Clinging to Yennefer's arm is a young girl with long, ash-blonde hair and emerald green eyes.
"-if said witcher is sleep-deprived and worried sick," Yennefer concludes with a sarcastic snarl.
"But Lady Yennefer-," the young girl protests and bats her bright green eyes innocently.
She looks so strikingly similar to the late Princess Pavetta of Cintra that there's no doubt that she's Geralt's child of surprise.
"-the only reason you didn't jump in as well, "the girl continues, "is because I held you back. I think it's more to do with how much you care-"
"Hush, child," Yennefer interrupts her. "Don't talk about things you don't understand."
The look with which Yennefer regards the girl stands in stark contrast to her annoyed tone. If Jaskier weren't convinced that the sorceress would hex him for it, he'd say that she looks surprisingly fond of the girl.
"Right. Uh," Jaskier stutters, not sure what to make of this entire situation. "I suppose I have you to thank for…" he gently brushes his fingers over his now collarless neck.
"Yes," Yennefer replies. "And also for throwing you into my pond once I got it off. Geralt nearly didn't let me. I guess he would have preferred to sit by your sickbed and pine dramatically. It just didn't have quite the same dramatic effect when he sat next to the pond for three days until you finally re-emerged."
Jaskier looks back over to Geralt and feels heat pooling in his cheeks as he realizes that his arm is still resting on Geralt's back. He quickly withdraws back into the water until only his hair and eyes stick out.
Geralt, however, is still bent over the edge of the pool, and slightly coughing. His face is hidden by a curtain of dripping, white hair, but he slowly raises his hand and flips Yennefer off.
Who gasps in mock offense.
"Geralt, you can't swear in front of the child!" she chides and clasps her hands over the girl's ears as if that would keep her from seeing Geralt's crude gesture.
Then she leads the princess away like that, with her hands still resting over her ears.
They head towards the door of a large mansion looming at the far end of this well-kept garden.
"You both come in here and get a bath," Yennefer calls over her shoulder before she disappears into the house. "You reek of… fishy things."
Jaskier watches until the door closes behind them, then turns back to Geralt.
The Witcher has stopped coughing and is staring back at Jaskier with an intense look in those incredible amber eyes.
"You coming?" Geralt huffs after a moment of awkward silence before he climbs out of the water.
Then he turns back around to Jaskier and looks at him expectantly.
Jaskier mumbles a reply, but with his head underwater and this close to the surface, it only produces bubbles.
"Huh?" Geralt asks and crouches down to stare at Jaskier even more intently.
Jaskier sheepishly lifts his head a tiny bit further out of the water and repeats: "You go ahead, I'll be right after you."
Geralt frowns.
Great.
Did he say something wrong?
This entire situation is just so bizarre. Jaskier still feels like he's in some sort of hazy dream where strange dreamworld rules apply that no one bothered to fill him in on.
"You're not going to run away and never come back or something stupid like that?" Geralt chides unkindly.
To be fair, the thought had indeed crossed Jaskier’s mind.
It would certainly spare him many awkward conversations and probably quite a bit of renewed heartbreak, which can be the only conclusion to seeing Geralt again.
However, whether he follows Geralt inside the house or runs far, far away and tries to hide in the nearest human settlement, there is one rather distinct problem that presents itself.
"Look," Jaskier huffs anxiously. "Scales are great and all, but to get inside the house I'm gonna need a pair of legs. And that will leave me rather… uhm…without scales and therefore, well, nude," he concludes and glares at Geralt challengingly.
It's not like they haven't seen each other naked before, it's kind of hard to avoid that when travelling together for so long. Hell, technically, Jaskier is naked right now, but still the idea of changing form and going into the house like that feels different.
Especially the part where he would stroll into Yennefer's tasteful abode butt-naked. Besides, that poor girl they’re harboring is, judging by Jaskier’s knowledge of the situation, already traumatized enough.
"Wait here," Geralt growls after a weirdly long pause full of more intense staring and heads inside by himself.
With a relieved sigh, Jaskier lets himself sink back under the water and tries to make sense of this whole mess of a situation.
Geralt doesn't seem to want to murder him, despite the fact that Jaskier is a terrible sea monster and lied about it all the time they knew each other. So that's something.
But he still seems to deem it necessary to watch and guard Jaskier for the three days he needed to heal. So Geralt definitely doesn't trust him, either. Maybe even expected Jaskier to attack.
Of course, Jaskier knows that Geralt is only protecting his child surprise. He knows this relationship with Geralt could never have gone anywhere once the siren is out of the bag, so to speak. There's no way a Witcher could ever trust a monster like him.
Jaskier knows all that. And yet, seeing proof that Geralt considers him to be a threat still hurts.
And also, what's that whole part about not running off supposed to mean?
Don't run off until he's taken that bath Yennefer ordered, or don't run off, period?
Really, what are the rules here? Would someone please fill him in on that?
Is he Geralt's prisoner now or something? Like, the Witcher won't kill him but wants to keep a close eye on him for the rest of their lives to make sure he doesn't slaughter any poor, defenseless humans?
It's not like Jaskier has any intention to do so.
Well, not as soon as he's taken care of those terrible circus people, anyway.
Right, he ought to find them soon. It's been, what? Nearly a week since his escape? There are still other people locked in cages that need his help. He can't just abandon them!
The image of little Marcy stuck in a cage will probably haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. The least he can do is make sure it's only that: An image in his head, a bad memory.
"Jaskier?" Geralt calls across the garden, panicked and wary.
Right. Can't let the dangerous siren out of your sight for too long.
How long does Geralt expect to keep watching him like this?
Well, if Geralt is looking for a reason to be scared, anyway, Jaskier might as well provide that.
After all, Jaskier is known across the Continent not only for his brilliant songs but also for his pettiness.
Hidden underneath the waterline, Jaskier watches as Geralt stalks closer towards the edge of the pond. Then he surges upwards and out of the pool in a cascade of water until he's towering above Geralt, balancing on his long tail.
"Yes, Geralt?" he asks innocently and flashes the witcher a bright smile which, in his current form, is all pointy teeth.
Geralt stares up at him with a grim expression.
Uncomfortable silence stretches out between them.
Well, that's not quite what Jaskier was going for. He was hoping to rouse some sort of reaction out of Geralt that would let him know where they're standing. He didn't mean to prompt more of that horrible staring. Heck, if Geralt had attacked him that would have still been better than that scrutinizing glare.
Jaskier clears his throat and that seems to finally break the odd spell that had overcome Geralt.
"I've brought this," he huffs and finally breaks eye contact.
Distracted by trying to be intimidating, Jaskier only now realises the bright pink bundle in Geralt's arms. Curious, he slithers closer and Geralt holds the piece of clothing out for him to slip into.
It turns out to be a robe, made of fine, bright pink silk and lazed with very fluffy looking fur along the wide sleeves and hem in the same colour, which means the garment must have been either died by magic, or been created from it entirely.
It's very much to Jaskier’s taste.
It's also definitely Yennefer's, and she's definitely going to kill him if he gets it drenched with pond water.
Jaskier doesn't see much of an alternative though, so he moves over the edge of the pond, turns his back to Geralt, and lets him pull the robe over his arms and shoulders.
Jaskier ties the robe closed at the front and starts the process of turning back into his human form.
Changing forms is always a little unpleasant, but after spending so much time without the option, the familiar stretch and pull of his skin is almost a relief.
The process is also always a little wobbly, especially after being out of practice, so when Jaskier finally stands on two feet again, he doesn’t manage to remain standing for long and instead falls backward with an indignant yelp.
Right into Geralt’s arms behind him.
“Oh, shit, sorry!” Jaskier stutters and turns nearly as pink as the robe.
So much for miming the scary monster to get a reaction out of Geralt.
“‘S fine,” Geralt grumbles, pushing him upright. Then he vanishes into the house without so much as a glance over his shoulder; without looking to see if Jaskier is following, thus proving that things are indeed very much not fine.
Jaskier sighs and slowly follows inside.
Past the door, Jaskier finds himself in a large dining hall dominated by two ridiculously long tables that could easily house two dozen guests or more. Jaskier can't help but wonder what overcompensating noble Yennefer "borrowed" this place from.
He flinches as he notices a figure sitting at the far end of one table that is definitely too slim around the shoulders to be Geralt.
She looks up and studies him without hiding her curiosity in the slightest.
“Oh, it’s only you, Princess Cirilla,” he huffs in relief. The girl seems to be the safest option of people to run into in this house at the moment.
“If Yennefer catches me ruining her robe I’m in deep trouble," he explains. "I don’t think we’ve been introduced, I’m Jaskier!”
“You can call me Ciri,” she replies without changing the questioning way she’s staring at him. “Or Fiona, when we’re in public and incognito.”
“I’ll be sure to remember that," Jaskier nods solemnly. "Now, Yennefer mentioned something about a bath. You wouldn’t happen to be able to point me in the right direction by any chance?”
“You’ll have to wait,” she replies, and finally, her expression turns into something else than that curious glare. She frowns.
“Geralt rushed past here a moment ago and mumbled something about taking the first bath. I really don’t know what’s up with those two today, they’re behaving just as oddly as when Geralt first introduced me to Yennefer.”
“Well, that’s quite alright. I can wait!” Jaskier beams. “Plus it'll give us some time to answer all those burning questions I can see written across your face,” he offers and sits down on a chair across from the girl.
“My questions about you or about the strange behaviour of adults in general?” she returns with a mischievous glint in her eyes.
Jaskier leans closer and whispers conspiratorially into her ear: “Anything you can ask before either of them catches us!”
He is rewarded with a shy smile on the previously far-too-serious face for such a young girl, and he practically feels his heart warm up to her.
That's definitely not a good idea, given how complicated the situation already is. Getting attached to Geralt's child of surprise is only going to cause more trouble.
But in the end Ciri asks him neither about himself nor about Geralt or Yennefer. She instead requests to hear about the night Jaskier met her parents, with just a hint of sadness in her eyes. And how could he possibly deny such a request?
Half an hour later they are giggling breathlessly about Ciri’s retelling of some of the more ridiculous things Eist has done in hopes of winning over Calanthe’s heart, when Geralt storms into the room, dressed in clean clothes, hair still wet and dripping on the painted floor tiles.
Jaskier’s head jerks up guiltily, although he is not quite sure what it is that he’s feeling guilty for.
He seems to be on the right track, though, judging by the continuously grimm expression on Geralt’s face.
“Bath is ready for you, third door on the right,” Geralt grumbles and crosses his arms. “I put out some of my clothes for you. Don’t use the stuff in the heart shaped flask, it smells like fish. Gods know what Yennefer wants with that, I thought they were all supposed to smell like flowers and stuff.”
“Right, to be continued, Princess,” Jaskier beams at Ciri, fairly certain that he won’t be able to keep that promise, and follows the trail of wet floor Geralt left.
“It doesn’t smell like fish, Geralt!” he hears Ciri call out before she succumbs to another giggling fit, for some reason.
The water in the bathroom’s large tub is pleasantly hot and clear, so it must have been refilled after Geralt took his bath. Jaskier suspects there was some magic involved.
Jaskier generally enjoys being in water, of course. Still, there’s nothing in the world that compares to a proper, near-scalding bath. Knowing Yennefer does occasionally have its perks, he has to admit.
Like when some evil magic tries to mute him. Which is something Yennefer has saved him from twice now, he realises. And this time there weren't even any threats to his manhood involved in the process, so that's certainly an improvement.
Although, given the sorry state of the robe he discarded in the corner of the room, that might still be ahead of him.
Curious, Jaskier picks up the heart-shaped flask from a tray full of delicate glass bottles standing by the tub.
He simply has to investigate this ominous tincture that supposedly does or does not smell like fish.
He carefully sniffs at the contents.
Well, he has to agree with Ciri. It doesn’t smell like fish at all. But while it is far from unpleasant, it also doesn’t smell anything like he would expect from bathing oil. It’s strangely harsh and musky except for a soft flowery afternote of lilac and gooseberry that seems to be present wherever Yennefer has trudged. Jaskier isn’t even sure that part is coming from the bottle at all and not just generally hanging in the air.
He opts for a lavender scent for his bath in the end.
When he emerges from the bathroom, after far more time than the half-hour Geralt spent on his bath, the smell of food hangs in the air and Jaskier realizes just how starved he is. Right. It must have been several days now since he ate anything. With all the life-threatening situations that happened since then he didn't really notice.
He follows the smell of food in a trance, almost against his will, back to the dining hall, where all three pairs of eyes belonging to this weird, ragtag family stare at him.
Before Jaskier can find the time to become nervous and intimidated, Ciri calls “I saved you a seat,” and points at an unclaimed plate of delicious looking steak on the table next to her.
Jaskier nearly trips over his feet in an effort to come over as far as possible. He slumps down next to Ciri, doesn’t bother with the knife or fork laid out beside the plate, and just digs in.
After a while, when the worst of his hunger is sated, he realizes that there’s not nearly enough eating noises for three people. He looks up and finds that only Ciri is paying attention to her own steak, while Yennefer and Geralt stare at him incredulously.
Jaskier swallows down the bite he had just stuffed into his mouth and looks down on himself.
Oh.
Now that the cat’s out of the bag and everyone knows about his big siren secret, he didn’t think much of it when he substituted the cutlery for his claws and fangs. Judging by the pointed stares and heated atmosphere, the cat’s not quite as out of the bag as he thought, though.
Jaskier retracts his claws, sending the pieces of potato he had pierced on each finger of his right hand falling back on his plate.
He clears his throat, wipes his hands on his napkin, and picks up his knife and fork at last.
When he nervously glances up a moment later, he only just catches Geralt and Yennefer exchanging a knowing look before they both turn back to their own food.
Ciri, to her credit, ignores the whole scene and just keeps eating her food normally. When Jaskier glances at her, she smiles at him and rolls her eyes in the direction of the witch and Witcher.
Yup. The girl is definitely growing on him.
“So, did you smell the heart-shaped bottle in the bathroom, Jaskier?” Ciri asks, far too innocently, though Jaskier can’t figure out what the catch is supposed to be.
“What?” Yennefer’s head perks up. “Ciri, I told you not to leave that standing around!"
Now that's a worrisome reaction. Jaskier wonders what would have happened if he had used it for his bath. Maybe it would have turned him into an ugly toad or something. Though maybe that would be an easier life than what's currently in store for him.
"Wh-What did it smell like to you?” Yennefer asks, strangely flustered.
“Uh, I don’t know,” Jaskier stutters, uncomfortable with the sudden attention when he still has no idea what to make of this whole domestic scene and just how much he’s intruding on it.
“A bit like leather, I guess? And campfire smoke, maybe? Definitely some onion.”
Yennefer seems unhappy with his answer. Jaskier wonders why that bothers him so much.
“I don’t know, it was hard to tell when the smell of your perfume is always around,” he adds, uncertain. Geralt grunts in agreement.
This time, Yennefer and Ciri exchange a knowing look, while Geralt looks just as confused as Jaskier feels.
“Oh, shut up you, you’re far too young for this kinda stuff!” Yennefer huffs and throws a bread roll at Ciri, who fails to catch it due to another bout of giggling escaping her.
After Ciri has caught her breath again, they finish dinner in silence, though somehow the general atmosphere has changed and Jaskier no longer feels like he’ll be impaled on a spike at the first wrong move.
Not that that eases his confusion in the slightest.
“Right,” Yennefer declares as Jaskier finally sets down his cutlery after his third serving. “You two-” and she points at Jaskier and Geralt, though she mostly glares at Geralt, “need to get some rest and then tomorrow we can talk about the plan to take out those horrible people who did that to Jaskier!”
Oh, so that’s still on the table, then. Jaskier is immensely relieved to hear it. He might be able to take out the circus by himself as long as they don’t get the drop on him this time, but he feels a lot better knowing these powerful people will be fighting at his side.
That’s, of course, all there is to it. It’s not like he wants the two of them by his side per se or anything like that.
Because that would make things so much more complicated, he just can't afford to feel that way.
There's no reason why Geralt would have changed his mind about getting rid of him and Yennefer never liked him in the first place. Expecting anything different would be ridiculous.
Jaskier only needs their help, is all. He can bear a little heartbreak if it means Marcy and the others will be safe and sound in the end.
Besides, any of his plans to sneak away unnoticed would be spoiled by the fact that he doesn’t actually have the first idea of where exactly they are. He's almost certain now that the strange, neverending darkness he felt earlier, before passing out and waking up in the pond, was the inside of a portal. Neither Geralt nor Yennefer would be this calm if the danger at hand were anywhere near the young girl they have taken under their wing.
So they could be anywhere on the Continent right now.
When Yennefer dismisses them for the night with another pointed look at Geralt, Ciri is eager to grab Jaskier by the hand and drag him towards one of the empty bedrooms, which the house seems to have plenty of. Given her enthusiasm it’s no surprise that once she’s made sure he has everything he needs, she lingers.
“Out with it, dear Ciri, what’s troubling you?” Jaskier demands. Ciri looks up at him, caught and embarrassed.
“Are you going to stay with us?” she asks and Jaskier should have known that that’s what she would ask, but it still breaks his heart.
“I don’t think that would work out," he says solemnly. "I know it’s fascinating and novel to have something like me around, but you’ll forget about me soon enough. Geralt and Yennefer are here to look out for you now, and I don’t really fit into that, it would just make everything unnecessarily complicated, and that’s the last thing you need right now; you need some sort of steadiness and control in your life and anyway, I….”
He’s rambling and he knows it, the speed of his words picking up until he’s sure Ciri can’t make out much of a meaning anymore.
He interrupts himself and smiles at her apologetically.
“It’s just that you have a calming effect on them,” Ciri claims, and Jaskier can’t help but snort at that. His presence has certainly had quite the effect on this little family, sure, but a giant sea monster invading the home of a Witcher definitely is anything but calming.
“They haven’t thrown things at each other all day!” Ciri explains. “Not even during dinner. Well, Yennefer threw a bread roll at me, but that's different.”
“I’m sure they were just worried that I can throw things the hardest,” Jaskier teases with a lopsided grin.
In reality, they were probably just too polite to drag out their usual bedroom drama in front of Jaskier. But his joke wasn’t too exaggerated either. There definitely had been a lot of tension during dinner over the fact that Jaskier isn't human.
He loves Ciri all the more for the fact that she doesn’t seem to give a damn at all. Jaskier could bite off her entire head in one go if he wanted to, but she still wants him to stay.
Ciri replies to his teasing with an equally sheepish smile and a “Good night, Jaskier," before she turns to leave.
But when she reaches the door she turns back around again, as if she just thought of another thing.
"When is it hardest to resist a siren's call?" she asks challengingly.
Quite an odd question, especially coming out of nowhere like this, but Jaskier does his best to oblige.
"When several sirens are singing together, I suppose. Also, I've heard it works stronger on sailors because they already yearn for the sea or something like that. But despite what the legends claim, we actually don't lure people to their deaths all that often. Seal tastes better."
"Soooo," Ciri huffs, tapping her chin thoughtfully. "If someone were to care about you a lot, it would also be easier to draw them to you?"
"I.. uh… Maybe?" Jaskier replies, uncertain. "Don't worry though, Princess, I don't intend to use my magic on you!"
Right. Of course, the poor girl is worried. She saw Geralt nearly drowning today, just because he hummed a short melody. That must have been a rather scary sight, her protector, helpless like that.
"Interesting!" Ciri calls and then darts out the door, leaving him alone with guilt over scaring the poor girl like that.
It’s about one and a half hours of tossing and turning later when Jaskier finally decides that there’s too many worries circling around in his head for him to find any sleep. He climbs out of bed again, determined to find something to distract himself with.
Jaskier doesn’t know his way around the house, but there’s only so many layouts a place like this can have. Since he got to spend a lot of time around various nobles' homes as a bard, he finds the door to the library on his first try.
Unfortunately, the library is already occupied.
Amber eyes look up at Jaskier from one of many plushy armchairs as he enters.
“Oh, shit sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you,” Jaskier splutters and immediately turns to leave again.
“Can’t sleep," Geralt huffs. There's no way of telling if it’s an explanation of Geralt’s presence or a question directed at Jaskier.
Jaskier lingers in the doorframe, uncertain what to do. If Geralt means to say that he, Geralt, can't sleep, then Jaskier should maybe stick around and make sure there won’t be another djinn involved.
“Not since I found you in that cave,” Geralt clarifies and glares down at the book on his lap as if it were to blame for that development. “I keep seeing you in my dreams like...like that.”
Jaskier can feel his face fall into a frown.
Right, that makes sense, he supposes. Geralt found a monster nearby and didn’t eliminate it, so his Witcher instincts tell him to be on guard at all times. And it probably only got worse since they brought Jaskier to this place, even if he spent most of the time unconscious in the backyard.
“I...I can just leave!” Jaskier blurts out, his voice unusually high from the effort of remaining calm and not bursting into either tears or angry yelling. Hard to tell which would be more likely.
Geralt’s head perks up again.
“Honestly, you’ve already done so much, more than I could ever have asked of you. Or Yennefer, for that matter. I’ll just go now and take care of those people by myself, and you won’t have to worry about them coming after you. Or about me. I’ll stay out of your hair, of course, you’ll never see me again. I don’t intend to test your restraint any further than I already have, believe me!” he rambles.
Geralt gets up abruptly and takes a step in his direction.
Jaskier flinches and shuts his mouth with a click.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Geralt barks angrily and Jaskier can’t help but take a cautionary step backward.
“About you not being able to sleep peacefully because there’s a dangerous monster living under your roof,” Jaskier explains slowly. “What...what are you talking about?”
Once again, Jaskier is just utterly confused and feels way out of his depth. When this is all over and he’s not sizzling at the end of a silver sword, he swears he’ll return to his home in the ocean, and never interact with any humans ever again. Or at least for the next century or so. He’s had enough drama for more than a lifetime.
Geralt drops the book he'd been holding carelessly to the floor and runs a hand down his face. He looks incredibly exhausted . Which makes sense, Jaskier supposes. After all, he did just spend several days without proper sleep, sitting by the pond and watching as Jaskier recovered.
“Damnit, Jaskier," Geralt shouts after a moment. Well, Jaskier can guess where this is going. It's not his first damn it Jaskier speech after all.
"You were delirious and in shock when I found you," Geralt continues, exasperated. "I thought that’s why you acted the way you did. It’s not like I appreciated having to pin you to the ground just to take a look at your wounds!”
That same crazed look flashes through Geralt's eyes, like when they found the djinn and then after the dragon hunt. That angry look which never seems to end well for Jaskier.
“I’m sorry, I won’t attack you again, I promise!” Jaskier calls and takes another step back, raising his hands in what is meant as a soothing, peaceful gesture.
This apparently is the wrong thing to do because Geralt’s entire face forms into a mask of pure horror, and he, in turn, takes a step back.
Fuck.
At this rate, Jaskier WILL end up at the end of a silver sword. Now, if only someone could tell him what he's doing wrong? He has no idea what to say or do to calm Geralt down and make him believe that Jaskier isn’t a threat and that he just wants to leave.
But then Geralt seems to relax despite Jaskier’s lack of words. His shoulders slump forward, all tension suddenly gone from his body, and he buries his head in his hands.
Jaskier remains as still as possible, uncertain what to do, scared that he'll rouse Geralt's anger again if he moves.
"When I came back with Yennefer-," Geralt's grunts, his voice muffled by the hands in front of his face, "-you were bleeding out in my arms."
Geralt looks up then, and his expression is once again guarded and unreadable.
"That's what I keep seeing in my dreams," he mumbles. "Your corpse in my arms. I don't know how to bear it."
"But…," Jaskier protests because that just doesn't make any sense at all.
"You wanted to be rid of me! Even back when you still thought I was human!"
Geralt's carefully guarded face falls into a deep frown again. "I'm a Witcher, Jaskier," he huffs. "Of course, I knew that you're not actually human. I figured you just preferred that form."
"What?" Jaskier shrieks, and with the shock of that revelation hitting him, he can't help but lace a little bit of magic into his voice, just enough to make his voice carry.
A door opens somewhere down the hallway.
There generally won't be a lot of sleep in this house tonight, it seems.
"And as for what I said after the dragon hunt," Geralt adds, unimpressed by the magic swirling around him.
He sighs deeply before he continues.
"Well, Yennefer has always called me an idiot. Lately, I find myself more and more inclined to agree with her."
As if summoned by that, Yennefer appears around the corner, dressed in a thin nightgown that reveals far more than it hides. Jaskier finds it rather hard to keep focusing on Geralt.
Yennefer strolls up to them and casually leans against the wall opposite the library door, forcing Jaskier to stand sideways in the doorway if he wants to keep looking at both her and Geralt.
Then she brings up her hand, which appears to be holding a grapevine full of plump, ripe fruit, and one after the other shoves them into her mouth, chewing slowly.
Geralt glowers at her. Jaskier only manages to stare unbelievingly.
"Oh, don't let me stop you!" Yennefer purrs after the third grape has disappeared. "I'm only here to watch the show."
At that moment, Ciri stalks around the corner, bleary-eyed and yawning, and positions herself next to Yennefer.
Wonderful. An audience is the last thing Jaskier wants right now. Still, he is determined to resolve all of this once and for all and then get the hell out of here.
"You keep staring at me, though," he throws at Geralt, turning back to face him. "Like you think I'll swallow you whole any second!"
It doesn't come out quite as angrily as he had been aiming for. The repeating plop sound behind him as another grape vanishes into Yennefer's mouth is really rather distracting.
Jaskier takes a deep breath and tries to suppress the urge to strangle Yennefer before he continues.
"You can't look at me like that and pretend like you're not afraid of me!" he huffs at Geralt. "Actually, you and Yennefer both!" he adds and turns back around just as the next grape disappears. "The way you both looked at me during dinner when I used my teeth and claws…" A shudder runs down Jaskier’s back at the memory.
"Oh, that wasn't fear," Yennefer drawls as she raises a single, perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Far from it, actually, wouldn't you agree, Geralt?"
Geralt makes a weird, strangled noise behind Jaskier.
"Then what, pray tell, was it, if not fear?" Jaskier shouts in frustration, and once again, he can't quite keep the magic from seeping into his voice.
Yennefer claims another grape, entirely unfazed as swirling Chaos makes strands of hair dance around her face.
Ciri stares at him with large eyes.
Jaskier takes another deep, trembling breath. Gods, if he's managed to get Ciri to fear him as well, he'll never stop hating himself.
"That's not exactly something we can discuss in front of a teenage girl," Yennefer claims cheerfully and wriggles her eyebrows.
And what exactly is that supposed to mean? Jaskier’s head starts spinning. He'd really appreciate it if things could start making sense now; thank you very much!
"You owe me 5 orens, Yen," Ciri declares with a yawn. "They'll never figure it out, and I want to go back to bed!"
"Give them another moment," Yennefer replies without taking her eyes off of Jaskier and with a grin that strangely reminds him of a shark about to devour its prey. A look which, Jaskier knows, is usually reserved for Geralt when they're just about to tumble into bed together.
So Yennefer looking at him like that instead of Geralt is just plain wrong. Because Yennefer hates him.
Right?
Jaskier’s brain must be broken. That's the only explanation for all this. He's probably still back on the mountain, succumbing to his injuries, and everything else simply happened in his head. Yeah, that's the only logical explanation.
"Grape?" Yennefer offers to no one in particular and Jaskier watches mesmerised as another one of the fruits vanishes between her plush lips with a plop.
"Yennefer really missed you, you know," Geralt whispers.
Right into Jaskier’s ear.
Which means that he's standing a lot closer than last time Jaskier looked at him.
It sends a shiver down his spine - much to his surprise, not in an unpleasant way.
"She claims she misses your witty banter," Geralt adds, and Jaskier can hear the sarcastic grin in his voice, even if he isn't looking at Geralt's face.
Yennefer snorts. "That just means that you make for boring conversation, Witcher!" she accuses. "Which, by the way, can be attributed to the fact that you've done nothing but pine after the since he left."
"You have?" Jaskier throws in meekly, though he can't tear his eyes from Yennefer's lips. Whatever spell she has cast on him is nearly as powerful as siren magic.
"Hmm," Geralt provides unhelpfully. Next to Yennefer, Ciri rolls her eyes.
"Ciri's right. We should wrap this up already," Yennefer declares, her tone suddenly turning serious. "I'm sure Geralt would sleep a lot easier if he could hold you in his arms, make sure you're safe. And I wouldn't be opposed to that, either. Seeing you bleed out in Geralt's arms made for a rather horrifying image."
"You want to…what now?" Jaskier stutters, his head spinning from the unexpected turn the conversation has taken.
A strong arm wraps itself around Jaskier’s waist from behind.
"Hey, if you're having a cuddle pile, I want in on it!" Ciri demands. "What do you say, Jaskier?"
"That's not quite what we had in mind," Geralt grumbles into his ear at the same time as Jaskier huffs. "How could I possibly deny such a request, Princess?"
Yennefer snorts.
They do all end up in one big pile on one of the larger beds of the estate, draped over and curled around one another. Jaskier is still convinced that he lost his mind and that none of this could actually be happening in reality. Still, since this is all he's ever wanted and more, he certainly won't be complaining.
Geralt falls asleep as soon as he rests his head on the pillow, except that he substitutes the actual pillow on the bed with Jaskier’s chest.
Soft snores ring through the room, accompanied by Ciri's giggles. Jaskier doesn't dare move.
That is until Yennefer weasels her arm underneath Jaskier and pulls him closer until his back is pressed flush against her chest. Geralt's head rolls off his chest, but he only grunts once and places it on Jaskier’s outstretched arm instead.
Ciri uses that opportunity to curl up in the small gap between Geralt and Jaskier.
If someone had told him, when he emerged from the garden pond, that this would be how his day would end, Jaskier would have asked them whether they've considered a career as a court jester. And yet, here they all are. Jaskier can't quite remember the last time he felt this safe.
And he imagines it's not much different for Ciri after everything she's been through. But here she is, with a witch, a Witcher, and a man-eating monster curled around her.
Jaskier gently tucks a stray strand of hair from Ciri's cheek before he finally allows himself to relax and settle in for the night.
Jaskier wakes up as an actual man-eating monster curled around the small heap of people in the center of the bed. He must have accidentally transformed in his sleep. Whoops.
This hasn't happened to him in a long time. He supposes he's not quite used to being in human form anymore.
Yennefer and Ciri are fast asleep, Yennefer's arm protectively curled around the girl's waist, but he can feel Geralt's eyes resting on him.
When Geralt notices that he has Jaskier’s attention, he looks at Ciri, then back at him, and presses a finger against his lips. Then he rests his head on Jaskier's tail, which can't possibly be comfortable with all the scales, but he promptly falls back asleep.
Jaskier shakes his head, mouthes a silent, disbelieving "Witchers" and goes back to sleep himself, using one arm as a pillow and carding the other hand into Geralt's slightly wavy hair.
When he wakes up the next morning, he's alone in bed with Yennefer, who trails small circles over his scales with her fingers.
Jaskier must have been more exhausted than he thought if he slept through both Geralt and Ciri climbing over his tail to get out of bed.
"So do your teeth just grow back like a shark's do?" Yennefer purrs. "That seems convenient, especially since I've heard you like to get in bar fights on Geralt's behalf."
"You seem rather interested in…all that," Jaskier teases as he vaguely gestures at himself.
"Well, it is rather alluring, I have to admit, the whole big, scary monster thing," she replies.
Then her hand on Jaskier's tail stills.
"But you should know that I've already cared about you quite a bit back when you pretended to be human. This isn't just a fixation on your pretty smile."
Jaskier grins at her, showing off his many teeth before he turns serious again.
"To be honest, I find that hard to wrap my head around," he admits sheepishly. "It always seemed more like I was in the way of your and Geralt's, uhm, various exploits."
Yennefer snorts.
"Just say 'Fuck', Jaskier. I promise nobody here will rat you out to the bards' association if you don't use a flowery euphemism for once!"
At that, she picks up drawing circles on Jaskier's tail again, carefully avoiding eye contact.
"But you're not wrong," she admits. "When we first met, the whole Geralt thing was rather all-consuming for a while. Finding out about the djinn wish put it more into perspective, though. So after the dragon hunt, I tried to figure out what I really want and what is only based on dumb magic. It's hard to tell sometimes, but I'm pretty sure I still love Geralt in his own right, even without the djinn wish. But when I finally managed to look past what the djinn made me focus on, I realized that Geralt's not the only one I can't stop thinking about."
She sighs deeply and looks up at him.
"Which is really fucking annoying, don't get me wrong, but that's how it is."
"Hmm," Jaskier replies thoughtfully and taps his index finger against his chin.
"So, do you think that you've subconsciously felt drawn to a man-eating monster because you're a man-eater yourself? Looking for familiarity?"
That, rightfully, earns him a pillow thrown into his face.
The assault is immediately followed by an armful of sorceress snuggling up to him.
"Pah, I bet you've never harmed a single soul in your life! You're far too soft-hearted for it, don't you think?"
"I think," Jaskier replies seriously, "I think I can smell burnt pancakes. Should we be concerned?"
"Stop deflecting!", Yennefer orders, but before Jaskier can answer, she climbs over his tail while cursing and darts towards the kitchen.
Jaskier takes the opportunity to turn back into human form and silently vows to buy Geralt a new pair of pants when he finds the shredded remains of what he wore to bed yesterday scattered across the floor.
Then he goes about finding something else to wear.
He shows up in the dining hall a little later, dressed in a new pair of Geralt's breeches and another one of Yennefer's near-transparent nightgowns.
He could have just kept on Geralt's shirt that he'd been sleeping in, of course, but he wouldn't have gotten this far as a bard if he didn't know how to make an entrance.
The pancakes, which could apparently still be salvaged, stand no chance against him.Geralt and Yennefer quickly neglect their breakfast in favor of staring at him. Only Ciri continues to dig in.
Now that Jaskier has overcome his previous dumbassery, it's easy enough to recognize the looks he's receiving as barely contained longing. He wonders what drove him to not recognize this earlier.
Still, he sits down next to Ciri nonchalantly, pretending not to notice.
"So what's the battle plan? How do we take them out?" Ciri calls, thus breaking the spell that seems to have overcome the witch and Witcher.
The girl's eyes sparkle with an almost similar want, though it seems more akin to bloodlust than that type of longing. Jaskier wonders if he should be concerned at Ciri's apparent excitement for violence.
"I'm so excited when in the heat of battle we can find out who's magic scream is louder, mine or Jaskier’s!" Ciri adds chipperly and barely manages to remain on her seat, she's bouncing up and down so much.
Yeah, he should probably be concerned.
"You're going to stay close to me, where I can keep an eye on you and only fight if you have to defend yourself if you want to come along at all," Geralt growls. "And Jaskier will sneak past the whole commotion and free the prisoners since they know him and hopefully will trust him. Best case scenario, neither of you two has to fight at all."
They make some more detailed plans after that. Jaskier tells them as much as he can about the circus and especially about the two mages and their power.
After breakfast, they pack whatever weapons and tools might come in handy in their endeavor before they finally set off.
Once everything is prepared Yennefer's portal spits them out in front of the barn, which Jaskier spent so much time trapped in.
They arrive just in time to catch the end of a heated argument between a local farmer and one of the acrobats about how the rental of the barn was supposed to have ended a week ago and that the harvest will need to be stored there soon.
The conversation ends abruptly as the pair takes notice of Jaskier and his companions, and chaos breaks out.
The acrobat tries to make a run for the tent, but Geralt knocks him down with a flick of his wrist and a wave of magic. His yelling, though, is enough to alarm the rest of the crew.
A moment later, three more acrobats come running out of the main tent and circle Geralt in an attempt to flank him. Spells fly through the air and explode in puffs of multicolored smoke against the protective shield Yennefer has conjured around them.
The murderous look on Ciri's face makes a nearby town guard reconsider his decision to get involved.
Amidst all the commotion, Jaskier slips into the barn.
"Siren!" Marcy gasps as she spots him, panic in her voice. "What are you doing here? I thought you escaped! You must have escaped!"
"Well, I have," Jaskier replies and offers his most reassuring smile. "And now I've come back to get everyone else out, too. The name's Jaskier, by the way."
"Siren, you can talk!" Marcy gasps wide-eyed. "But their mages are too powerful; you have to flee before they can catch you again! Save yourself!"
"Oh, don't you worry about that." Jaskier drawls and gets to work on the lock with the set of lock picks he took with him. "I brought some friends to deal with those awful people. One of them is a Witcher and you know how Witchers fight monsters, right? So he knows how to handle them."
"That's not how it works!" Marcy chides and bleats nervously. "Witchers slay monsters like you and me, not humans!"
"Yeah, well," Jaskier replies, a little distracted since the lock is doing its best to be stubborn. "That's how it works today because I say so. And since sirens have magic voices, whatever I say comes true!"
"That's not how it works!" Marcy repeats though she sounds uncertain.
Finally, the lock acknowledges his superior skill and snaps open. Jaskier opens the cage door and offers Marcy his hand as she climbs out of the far too small space.
"Hmm, if I take that long with every cage, we'll still be here by nightfall," Jaskier thinks out loud and furrows his brow. "I wonder where I could find the key."
As if summoned by those words, one of the circus folk comes running into the barn and Jaskier spots a large keyring dangling from his belt.
"Hey, you!" the man yells in their direction and Jaskier instinctively pushes Marcy behind him protectively. The look she regards him with as he does so is one of pure glee and wonder. Jaskier, swept up in her excitement, has to remind himself that he doesn't actually have the power to speak things into existence. The man appearing with the keys is just a coincidence.
He gets ready to charge at the acrobat just as the barn door flies open again. An ear-piercing scream nearly knocks him off his feet and makes him tumble backward into Marcy, who ,in response, fearfully wraps her arms around him.
The acrobat is not so lucky. He is hit by the full force of the scream and thrown backward, where he collides with the barn wall several feet away. He doesn't get up.
In through the door strolls Ciri, sword casually resting on her shoulder, as if she had just arrived at a round of training with Geralt rather than taken out a full-grown man.
"Weren't you supposed to stay by Geralt's side where he can keep a close eye on you?" Jaskier chides as soon as he has peeled a terrified Marcy from his legs and regained his balance.
"Yeah, but then later, he also told me in secret to make sure you are safe," she replies and raises her chin challengingly. "So when I saw that creep sneaking into the barn after you, I figured that's more important and followed!"
"That was a siren's cry, wasn't it?" Marcy yells excitedly and clings to Jaskier’s side instead of his legs. "Is she your daughter?"
"I'm not a siren!" Ciri protests at the same moment as Jaskier calls out "That's right, she's my daughter."
The look Ciri regards him with in response is full of surprise, but then it turns into something fond and warm. It's the best thing he's ever seen, Jaskier decides.
Suddenly, something comes crashing through the wooden wall and interrupts the tender moment. Jaskier summons his claws and teeth, ready to attack.
In a pile of hay not far from the acrobat Ciri took out lies a tangled mess of limbs that Jaskier recognizes as the female mage that trapped him. Faint, purple smoke rises from a large gash in her tunic.
Marcy looks back and forth between him and the unmoving sorceress incredulously.
"Actually, I brought the whole family," Jaskier offers with a shrug.
With the acrobat's keys they make quick work of the remaining locks and release all the other captives from their cages. By the time they're finished and have freed themselves from the colorful group of non-humans trying to express their gratitude, the fight outside is just about over. Jaskier is a little sad that he didn't get to join in on the violence at all, but the sight of Geralt and Yennefer back to back, surrounded by corpses and fuming with rage on his behalf, is quite a sight to behold, so he doesn't complain.
Geralt looks up, panic written across his face until his eyes fall on Ciri by Jaskier’s side, and he calms down again.
Jaskier strolls over, kicks one of the corpses clad in the town’s guard armor, and drawls: "Soo...time to high tail it out of here and never come back?"
"Hmm," Geralt hums. "They'll have a problem with drowners, ghouls or other critters sooner or later, and then you'll see how quickly a little friendly slaughter will be forgotten."
"Oh dear, was that a joke?" Yennefer gasps and clutches a perfectly manicured hand on Geralt's blood-sprinkled shoulder. "Yeah, we'll have to work on that, my dear grumpy Witcher. But the effort is appreciated!"
Geralt scoffs and mumbles something incoherent under his breath.
Not much later, they teleport back to the estate and take all the rescued not-quite monsters with them.
For several days after the rescue mission, the house is bustling with activity until eventually, one by one, they set off to find their own little safe corner in the world.
Before they do, Ciri makes sure to bother them as much as possible and learn each of their individual life stories, which she writes down in a notebook for future reference. Jaskier is so proud that he could cry.
Jaskier joins Ciri in her quest to collect stories most of the time, except for every now and then when Geralt or Yennefer grab him by the collar and drag him away into an empty room where the other one is already waiting.
Most of the time, those impromptu meetings are not appropriate for the eyes of Ciri or Marcy.
But every once in a while they just talk, about this strange new thing between them, about what the future holds for Ciri and about what an emotionally repressed idiot Geralt is.
"So are you two," he tends to growl in reply, and he's right, of course, but it's just not as much fun teasing Yennefer about it.
Marcy stays with them the longest. She tells her story of how her whole family was attacked by the circus' mages one day, how they managed to snatch her up, and how her parents were forced to flee and leave her behind to save her various siblings.
By the time they manage to locate Marcy's family and organize a tearful reunion, Marcy and Ciri have become close friends, and when they agree to write each other letters as Marcy's people move on, Yennefer promises she will make that happen no matter where life takes either of their families.
The estate feels far too empty after that, but they don't intend to stay much longer anyway. Geralt insists Ciri needs to go to school somewhere; Yennefer wants to introduce her to some of her old friends for additional magic lessons. Then, come next winter, Jaskier is promised that he will meet the rest of the Witcher family up in Kaer Morhen. And that they most definitely won't try to pierce him with a silver sword, despite his being a siren. Or at the very least, that they'll have to go through a very protective Witcher, witch, and child of destiny first. Jaskier almost hopes it will come to that, just so that he can see that protective fury of his rag-tag family again.
But only almost.