Chapter Text
It took almost two full weeks since the accident before Yennefer felt able to summon a portal. She had to leave Jaskier behind for the time being. She might find that Triss was unable to help, so there was no point in dragging him along just yet.
Just the seemingly simple act of creating the portal was tiring, though she didn’t feel light headed at least. She may need Triss to make a portal for her to go back though if the tingling in her fingers was any indication. She stepped through directly into Triss’s workshop, the familiar room giving off a calming aura straight away.
Triss herself was nowhere to be found in the large room, no doubt busy seeing to the matters of the court. Yennefer took a seat at one of the tables covered in books and various tools, content to wait for her to return. There was little use in going about making a fuss and causing Triss unnecessary stress in demanding her presence right away.
She pulled over one of the large tomes lying open on the table in front of her, idly flicking through the pages. It appeared to be a book on herbology, not something Yennefer was particularly interested in, but it helped pass the time nonetheless.
An hour passed before Yennefer heard footsteps approaching. The door opened and in came Triss, more than a little surprised to see Yennefer waiting for her. “Yennefer,” she said with a smile, “it’s good to see you.” Triss seemed unphased by Yennefer’s sudden appearance, though it was hardly the first time she’d turned up unannounced.
“It’s good to see you too,” she said, standing to greet her.
Triss pulled her into a hug as soon as she was in grabbing distance. Yennefer sank into her embrace.
“It’s been too long,” Triss said, her voice warm. “But I suspect there’s a reason for your visit?” she said with a hint of worry.
“I’m afraid so,” Yennefer said as she pulled away. “To cut a long story short, a friend of mine is badly hurt, and he needs your help.”
“Is he dying?”
“No,” she said quickly. “He’s stable. But without the aid of magic, I fear he may not walk again.”
“Did something happen to your magic?” she asked, looking Yennefer over for signs of injury.
Yennefer shook her head. “I exhausted myself before the accident happened. It was two weeks ago now, but I’ve only just regained enough chaos to summon a portal to here.”
Triss was quiet for a moment, no doubt weighing up their options. Yennefer couldn’t lie, she would be disappointed if Triss turned them away. She was the best healer she knew and a good friend, but if her current circumstances with the king didn’t afford her the freedom to help, Yennefer would be forced to accept the situation.
“Alright,” she said eventually. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” she said, pulling her into another hug.
“Don’t thank me yet.”
With the help of Triss, they managed to get Jaskier through the portal relatively painlessly. Triss paid Irena for her work before they left, and Yennefer silently promised to the mage back once she could retrieve their belongings.
Jaskier for the most part was drugged up enough that he didn’t really know what was going on. It was the only way they could move him without causing too much pain. While it had been a relief to know he could still feel his legs and that his back was intact, it unfortunately meant his injuries caused him a great deal of pain even when he was just lying down perfectly still.
Triss took the opportunity to take a look at his legs once he was settled on the other side. Yennefer watched her face carefully, but she remained irritatingly neutral, no doubt fully aware she was being watched. Jaskier complained minimally, still too out of it. He did reach for Yennefer at one point, and she gladly took his hand, giving it a small comforting squeeze. It didn’t go unnoticed by Triss.
“I didn’t think you travelled with others,” she said simply.
“I didn’t.”
“What changed?”
Yennefer wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. There hadn’t been a singular thing that had happened after all. “I’ve known him for years through a… mutual friend,” she began carefully.
“The bastard,” Jaskier muttered under his breath, still not fully with it.
“Indeed,” she said, moving swiftly on. “I used to find him insufferable actually, singing his overly cheery and dramatic songs, constantly talking about nothing, making a general fool of himself.”
“Oi,” he said, feigning hurt.
“Hush, I’m the one speaking here,” she said before turning back to Triss. “Circumstances changed for both of us. He needed my help and, I don’t know. I think we needed each other really,” she shrugged.
“Saved my life,” Jaskier mumbled, his eyes half closed now.
Triss raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that so?” she said mostly to Jaskier this time to distract him from her prodding.
“Mm, yeah, I was, uh… was dying. But Yen’s nice. Saved me,” he said, giving their joined hands a little shake.
Yennefer squeezed his hand back. “It’s my fault you keep getting hurt though.”
“Nah,” was all he said to that, turning his head away, apparently done with the conversation. He didn’t let go of her hand though, his fingers loosely holding hers. Yennefer almost wanted to argue with him but now clearly wasn’t the time.
“Has he been badly hurt before?” Triss asked, keeping her voice low now as Jaskier drifted on the edge of consciousness.
Yennefer nodded. “There’s been a few times now while he’s been travelling with me that he’s almost died. This has been the worst so far.”
The room fell silent for a while, only the occasional complaint from Jaskier as Triss continued her investigation. Yennefer held on to his hand the entire time, letting him squeeze hers when the pain got worse. It was the least she could do.
“I think I’m done,” Triss announced eventually. “I believe I’ll be able to fully heal his legs but it’s going to take some time and he’ll need to take it easy for a month or two after while he recovers. It’s not an instant process I’m afraid.”
“But he’ll walk again?” she asked, daring to hope.
“Yes, that shouldn’t be a problem.”
Yennefer finally let out the tension she’d been carrying since waking up in the cave, finally hearing some good news. “Thank you Triss, truly.”
Triss got to work straight away, mixing various potions to aid healing and relieve pain, and gathering the necessary books and spells. Yennefer helped where she could, passing over ingredients to her and making sure Jaskier was still comfortable. While they worked, Triss explained it would take several treatments over a couple of weeks to allow his body to adjust and heal on its own in between. Doing it all at once ran the risk of complications which they wanted to avoid at all costs.
Triss put Jaskier to sleep before she began. There was no need for him to be awake and it would only cause him unnecessary pain for the first few treatments. Yennefer stayed by his side anyway, observing Triss as she began working on shifting his broken bones into better alignment. Irena had done a decent job already, but no matter how skilled the healer, magic couldn’t be beaten when it came to delicate matters like this. That was all Triss did the first day, splinting and bandaging his leg to keep it in place.
The next day, Yennefer finally went back to retrieve her and Jaskier’s belonging. They’d been moved out of the room into the cellar but it appeared as though everything was where it should be so she supposed she couldn’t really complain. She paid the innkeeper a little extra for the inconvenience before returning to Vizima.
“Yen! You’re back,” Jaskier said when she came into the room. She could tell he was a little out of it on the painkillers just by the unfocussed look of his eyes, but he seemed aware enough of his surroundings.
“Had to go back for our stuff. Here,” she said, brandishing his lute.
“Oh!” he said, making grabby hands at it, sitting a little more upright. She handed it over with an amused huff. He held it in his lap, turning it over to inspect it for damage. It never ceased to amaze her how much he cared for the instrument, despite knowing by now that she’d enchanted it to resist damage. Old habits die hard, she supposed. She left him to it, moving the rest of their stuff to the room Triss had given her for the time being.
Triss came to find her a short while later as she was going through their things, making sure nothing was missing. “I know you mentioned he sings, but I hadn’t realised he was Jaskier the bard,” she said, leaning against the door frame.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, last I heard, he travelled with that witcher, Geralt of Rivia. I hadn’t expected him to be with you.”
“He did, travel with Geralt I mean,” Yennefer said simply, refusing to let anything slip past her careful mask. The last thing she wanted was to be interrogated about Geralt.
“I met Geralt once,” she said.
Well, that was the last thing Yennefer had expected her to say. “Really?” she said, failing at hiding her surprise.
“Yes, I asked for his help lifting the curse from the princess many years ago. I often wonder where life took him.”
“Nowhere good, I’m sure,” she said dryly.
“So how long exactly has he been travelling with you if he’s not with Geralt anymore?”
“Almost a year now I believe,” she said with a hum.
“And he hasn’t irritated you into chasing him off yet?”
That earnt her a small laugh from Yennefer. “No, but trust me, he’s trying his best.”
“Well, he’s currently trying to tune that lute you gave him and failing horribly.”
“Gives him something to do I suppose,” Yennefer shrugged. “If it bothers you though, I can just take the lute off him and put away it in here.”
“No, it’s fine,” she said with a small smile. “Like you said, it gives him something to do when he’s awake. I can’t imagine it’s much fun sitting in bed all day for weeks on end.”
“If you change your mind, don’t hesitate to take it off him yourself,” she said with a wink.
The next couple of weeks passed in much the same manner. Every few days, Triss would put Jaskier to sleep while she worked on healing his legs, mending bone and regrowing muscle and skin. It was a slow and energy intensive process, but gradually progress was made. After the first week, Jaskier no longer needed such strong painkillers, able to cope with just enough to take the edge off.
Now he was more in charge of his faculties, he decided to thank Triss by singing to her, anything she requested. She certainly seemed to enjoy the attention and Yennefer couldn’t help but be pleased. It was good to see him acting like his old self.
Once Triss deemed him ready, she had him start taking short walks around her workshop, just to get him up and moving again. It was slow going and both Triss and Yennefer kept close to his side, supporting him and ready to catch him should he fall. He was very unsteady the first time, but only showed improvement from there.
By the end of the two weeks, Triss had done all she could. Jaskier was able to walk around by himself with the aid of a cane which, if all went to plan, he wouldn’t need for too long. Yennefer had suggested to Jaskier they go to Oxenfurt while he recovered. As nice as it was to see Triss, her workshop was hardly ideal for a long term stay. Jaskier agreed and so after giving their thanks to Triss yet again, Yennefer summoned a portal to take them directly to Jaskier’s rooms at the academy.
The first few days passed quietly. Jaskier explained to the academy the reason for his unexpected return, glossing over the exact details of what had happened but assuring them he would make a full recovery soon enough. They had tried to get him to give a few lectures since he was here, but Yennefer quickly shot that idea down. Jaskier may be healing well, but he was still in no condition to teach any time soon. As a compromise, they had him help grade the students’ assignments instead.
That thankfully gave Jaskier something to keep him occupied. As Yennefer had come to learn, Jaskier did not do well without something to do, constantly on the go. Unfortunately, she could only take so much sitting around before she too became restless. She had taken to going out every day for an hour or two, just wandering about the city. Sometimes she would bring something back from the market. It started off with practical things like ingredients for her potions and spells which were hard to find elsewhere, but it quickly turned to more personal things.
The first was a new pair of boots for Jaskier since his had been ruined in the accident. He had others of course, but they were more fashionable than practical for when he might go perform at court, hardly suitable for travel. She handed them over without fanfare, all but shoving them into his lap. He’d tried them on straight away and thanked her, marvelling at how comfortable they were. Seeing him happy like that just from a pair of boots made something pleasant and warm burn in her chest.
From there, it was anyone’s guess what Yennefer would bring back next. She had no aim, and more often than not, she would return empty handed. But every now and then something would catch her eye, whether it be some honey cakes or shiny trinket. She would bring these things back and offer them like a tribute, trying to make up for her past mistakes, for putting him in harms way time after time. He seemed thrilled by them each time, though she doubted she knew they came from guilt.
One quiet evening, they were lounging together by the fire in the small sitting room. Yennefer was reading while Jaskier was trying to write his latest song, muttering lyrics as he plucked the strings of his lute. It reminded Yennefer of how this all began, after Jaskier recovered from his illness and injures, when they would just spend their time in each other’s company before they headed out on the road. He was safe then. He was safe here.
He wasn’t safe with her.
He should stay.
It wasn’t the first time she’d thought about leaving him here. Just walking out the door one day and never coming back. It wouldn’t stop him from travelling of course, and the roads were far from safe, but at the very least he wouldn’t be dragged into every magical mess they came across.
“Yen?” he asked softly. She looked up from her book to him. She hadn’t realised he’d stopped playing, too lost in her own head.
“Yes?” she said, trying not to give away her inner turmoil.
“You alright?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve been staring at that page for ten minutes. What’s on your mind?”
“It’s not important,” she dismissed, turning back to the book.
In her periphery she could see him setting aside his lute. “You can talk to me, you know.”
Yennefer sighed before finally setting aside the book. He clearly wasn’t going to drop this so she may as well be honest and get it over with. Especially if she was going to go through with her plan. He deserved to know at least. “I’m a danger to you,” she said simply.
“Excuse me?” he asked with an amused huff. “Where did you get that idea from?”
She merely shrugged. “It’s true, isn’t it? You keep getting hurt because of me.”
“This again? Really Yen, I thought we were past this by now,” he said almost dismissively.
For some reason she couldn’t quite figure out, his lack of a reaction infuriated her. “Do you have any instincts for self-preservation?” she asked sharply.
“Well clearly not,” he said, meaning it as a joke. Yennefer was far from amused.
He seemed to realise then that she was serious about this and dropped any pretence of keeping the mood light. “What’s this really about Yen?”
“I’m going tomorrow,” she said. As the words left her mouth, she knew it was the right thing to do, her resolve solidifying. Jaskier was safe here, he didn’t need her around to look after him while he recovered, and she was next to useless here anyway. If she left now, he wouldn’t be able to follow her like she knew he would try to.
“Going where?”
“Away,” she shrugged. “And I won’t be coming back.”
“Wait, what? Why not? Yen, you can’t leave me here,” he said. There was an almost desperate edge to his voice, something bubbling up to the surface from the depths of his emotions. It wasn’t something she’d seen often, and she hated to see it now.
“You’re not safe with me,” she said, trying to keep up the charade that this wasn’t also painful for her. If she cracked now, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to go through with it. “I can’t stop you travelling, but you’ll be safer without me around.”
“No, you don’t get to decide that,” he said, his voice trembling, though whether from anger or grief she wasn’t sure.
“And why not? This is hardly the first time you’ve almost died because of me.”
“And what makes this any different from all the times I almost died with Geralt?” he snapped. They rarely ever talked about the witcher, too much heartache caused by his name alone between them. It felt like a punch to the gut now. “Every time I followed him on a hunt I knew exactly what I was getting myself into and I still did it anyway.”
“Why?” she asked, truly dumfounded. “Why take that risk? He’s a witcher, I’m a mage. We’re equipped to deal with these things. You’re just…”
“Just a stupid human who doesn’t know when to stop?” he finished bitterly.
She struggled to find the words to refute it. She wouldn’t have said it quite like that, but yes, that was the core of the issue. Jaskier was painfully human. He had no defence against the dangers she so often faced. He couldn’t create wards, heal wounds with a word and a thought. He didn’t even have Geralt’s enhanced endurance to help him run away. He was a target, and he kept paying the price.
“It’s for your own good,” she said quietly.
She stood, intending to go to bed. As she passed Jaskier, he reached out and grabbed her arm. She stood, frozen, waiting to see what he would do next, careful not to meet his gaze. Gently, he slid his hand down her arm to her wrist. He slipped his hand in hers, carefully, as though he was afraid she would bolt. She still might.
“Please don’t leave me too,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, rough from the tears he was holding back, threatening to crack.
The words sent a stab of guilt through her heart. She knew it wasn’t fair to do this to him, not after he’d been cruelly abandoned by Geralt and left to fend for himself on the monster infested mountain. But he was too important to her to risk losing him again. They’d come too close too many times. Their luck was surely running out.
“It’s for the best,” she repeated, also struggling to hold back the emotion in her voice. Maybe if she said it enough she’d believe it.
“For who?” he asked. From the corner of her eye, she knew he was looking up at her now but still she refused to meet his eyes. “Because it’s not for me.”
If she didn’t leave now, her already crumbling resolve would fracture completely. And yet, she was held entirely motionless by his hand in hers, too weak to tear herself away.
He raised their joined hands to his face, his lips brushing against the back of her hand feather light. Finally, she summoned the courage to face him. He was still looking up at her, his eyes wide and shining in the firelight, pleading with her to stay.
“Jaskier…” she whispered, her voice breaking on the name.
“Please Yen. Don’t go."
The walls were coming down now, turning to dust. Even in the face of danger, pain and death, still he was choosing her. Either he was a complete idiot or incredibly brave. Most likely both. For the first time in her life, she was utterly powerless. He had made up his mind and refused to budge. She had a feeling even if she did leave, he would find her again through sheer force of will.
“Alright,” she said, breaking the heavy silence at last. “Alright, I’ll stay.” She moved to stand nearer to him, pulling him closer with her free hand so that his head rested against her stomach, her fingers brushing through his hair. He kept her hand pressed against his face, just drinking in her presence, wrapping his other arm around her, keeping her close. It was hardly the first time he’d been physically affectionate with her, but this felt more akin to worship.
“I don’t think I could stand it if you left me too,” he mumbled, quiet enough that she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have heard it.
“One man’s wrong opinion doesn’t decide your worth,” she said.
“It’s not just him.” With a sigh, he released her from his hold, though he still held her hand. He sat back in his chair and Yennefer found herself kneeling down on the floor beside him so that they were level.
“Who else?” she asked. She’d had an inkling of some deeper sadness within him for some months now, but he was skilled at showing people what he wanted them to see. It was rare that he was ever truly vulnerable. Yennefer was hardly one to talk, her guard up at all times for fear of anyone slipping through the cracks in her façade. Somehow, Jaskier managed to anyway, but she was still stuck on the outside of him.
“Everyone,” he said plainly, as though it was a fundamental fact of life. “They might not mean to, but they all leave me eventually.” She didn’t say anything, letting him take his time. She ran her thumb over the back of his hand, hoping to give him the courage to keep going.
“I’m too much,” he said after a moment, eyes fixed on his lap. “I’m too loud, or I have too much energy. I take up too much space. I’ve never particularly fit in anywhere, and after a while it wears you down. Geralt put up with me the longest, but in the end I still wasn’t good enough.”
His confession made her ache in a way she hadn’t been expecting, bringing back almost forgotten memories of being a twisted young girl living in a village where her own family wanted nothing to do with her. “I know what that’s like,” she said with as much sincerity as she could manage.
“You?” Jaskier huffed, though not unkindly, looking up at her from his lap. “The great Yennefer of Vengerberg.”
“I wasn’t always a mage, you know. I was unwanted once, for a long time. But even now, when I walk into a room filled with the most powerful people on the continent, they look at me and wonder what I can give them. They’re not interested in me; they want what I can do for them.”
A quiet hum was all he offered, turning his eyes back to their joined hands. “I don’t care about any of that,” he said. “Power has never interested me. If it did, I wouldn’t have become a bard.”
“There’s power in stories,” Yennefer said. He had after all successfully changed the public’s opinion on witchers, turning them from violent beasts no better than the monsters they were hired to slay to protectors of humanity who should be celebrated.
“That may be so. But it’s a different kind of power,” he gave her a tentative smile. “People interest me. Anyone with a story to tell is worth listening to.”
“Has anyone heard your story?” she asked. “For all your incessant chatter, it hasn’t escaped me that you rarely talk about yourself.”
He looked away, cracking under her kind gaze. He swallowed thickly before speaking. “No one’s ever asked, and I’ve learnt the hard way that it’s not something one wants to hear unless requested. No one wants to hear about the storyteller.”
“What if I asked?”
“Not tonight,” he said with a watery smile and a small shake of his head.
“Not tonight,” she agreed. They both felt fragile enough, no need to add to it right now. They had time for all that.
“So, you’re staying?” he asked. She hated now the hope in his voice, hated that she had even thought of abandoning him, hated that she almost turned her back on someone who only wanted her for herself, not what she could offer.
“I’m staying. And I’ll stay until you get sick of me.”
“I don’t think that could ever happen,” he said. Whether because of his hushed, almost reverent tone, or the pure open honesty in his eyes, or perhaps some divine work of the gods above, she believed him.