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Chapter Text

Geralt had traveled for days to reach the wooded Carterhaugh where fair folk dwell. He had heard tell of a special rose within Carterhaugh that repelled and weakened bruxae as well as other lesser vampires. 

He had also heard of the fairy named Jaskier who guarded these special roses and demanded a tithe from any who would trespass his woods. He would demand from any maid or man that came through Carterhaugh a cloak or mantle of green or their virginity, at least according to the ballad sung about him. Geralt was careful and had acquired a green mantle especially for this, as he had no wish to lay with such a creature.

As he made his way through the woods and into a clearing, he could clearly see the roses that he had heard so much about. They were white and edged with gold, and he could smell their sweet scent even as far away as he was. He dismounted Roach and made his way into the clearing with her close behind him. He hadn’t taken but two roses when he heard a voice from behind him.

“Sir, leave alone! This land is protected by me, what are you doing, pulling my roses?” It was a gentle man, boyishly handsome with soft brown hair and cornflower blue eyes. He wore an elaborately trimmed emerald doublet with puffed arms and slashes both on his sleeves and on the front. His padded hose were dark grey, almost black, and over those he wore tall black boots. He looked human but Geralt knew him to be fae by his grey skin.

“This land doesn’t belong to you, it doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“It may not belong to me, but it is under my protection. And, as such, you’re trespassing. You must have heard the warnings, what you must pay to if I caught you on this land. The song says a mantle or a maidenhead, but as far as I can see you have neither of those. How about we strike a deal, witcher?”

“I don’t bargain with the likes of you, fairy.” The witcher growled. He was tired from the journey to Carterhaugh and had no interest in playing games with the fae, no matter how pretty.

“You don’t have a choice, witcher. You came to Carterhaugh of your own free will,” the fairy Jaskier then more sang than spoke: “You pulled the rose, you broke the tree. For that you must pay.”

“I need these roses. They’re for repelling bruxae.” Geralt held the two that he had picked close to him, as if the fairy was going to reach over and snatch them out of his hands.

“I know what they’re for, what I need to know is what you will give me for taking them, and what for trespassing my land.”

“Your price is a green mantle, is it not?” Geralt clarified.

“Yes, that or a night you won’t soon forget,” he said, winking.

Geralt reached into a saddle pouch and pulled from it an embroidered green mantle. “Does this suffice?”

“Well isn’t this lovely, just an absolutely fantastic work of clothing.” Jaskier took the proffered mantle and clasped it at his sternum. He straightened the edges and looked back up at Geralt with a smile. “Too bad you didn’t choose otherwise but I’ll not soon forget you witcher. In fact,” Jaskier pulled out a lute from behind a rosebush, “I think I’ll come along with you to see how you deal with these loathsome bruxae.”

“No. Absolutely not. I do not suffer fairies easily, and less so ones who sing.”

“Oh but dear witcher, singing is the least of what I can do with this,” he gestured to his lute. Then he played a series of notes and changed the roses in Geralt’s hands into creeping vines that twined around his wrists.

Geralt’s eyes narrowed, “I needed those, fairy.”

Jaskier grinned widely. “All the more reason to bring me along, dear witcher, as I can bring more of these along with me,” as he gestured to the roses. 

“I gave you the mantle, that’s fair for the roses.”

“No,” he said, not unkindly, “that was payment for trespassing. For the roses you must take me along with you.”

Geralt frowned. “Fine. If you must, come along. But I refuse to babysit you.”

“No babysitting needed dear witcher, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” Jaskier slung the lute over his back and walked beside Geralt as he made his way out of the clearing.

“...It’s Geralt.” He spoke quietly, almost as an afterthought.

“What?” Jaskier turned towards the man beside him.

“Geralt. Of Rivia. Not witcher.” He said, more forcefully this time.

“Well nice to meet you Geralt of Rivia ,” he grinned slyly, “You may call me Jaskier.”

Chapter Text

They walked together for a while. Jaskier stopped to collect half a dozen of the most beautiful roses that Geralt had ever seen. Geralt made no motion inviting the fairy–Jaskier to ride his steed, and neither did Jaskier move as if to ride her. Instead, much to Geralt’s increasing chagrin, he talked.

“So how far are these bruxae of yours?” Jaskier asked after they had been walking for a little while. Geralt hummed, not looking at him.

“Oh come on!” Jaskier was getting tired of walking as he wasn’t used to leaving Carterhaugh for any length of time.

“They’re not mine,” Geralt told him. He was traveling on his horse, Roach, at a walking pace. Every so often Jaskier would stop to look at flowers or leaves on the side of the road or look at a sign and would have to jog to catch up. Geralt could understand the desire, it was a crisp autumn day and the ground was covered in a sunset of multicolored leaves. Still, they had a lot of ground to cover and Geralt wished he would move apace.

“Okay, fine. How far are we from not your bruxae?” Jaskier asked, a bit exasperated. His feet were already sore, his shoes not really fit for walking, and he wasn’t looking forward to multiple days of travel. Though it was a chilly day the cold didn’t seem to touch him at all.

“About five days, probably less if we make good time,” Geralt responded, still not looking at him.

“How good are we talking about?” Jaskier asked again. 

“Twelve hours of travel on foot or eight hours on a steed will mean more like three days.”

“Good thing we have a steed then!” He said with a suggestive grin.

“Good thing I have a steed then. You will walk.” Jaskier gave Geralt a look, affronted, and Geralt smiled, “Only a jest bard. There’s a town not far from here where we can rest beforehand and you can acquire a horse. But for now, you walk.” Jaskier huffed.

As they continued traveling, Jaskier spoke non-stop about whatever topic he fancied and even more besides. “Did you know, dear witcher, that I was classically trained as a bard? It’s true! Everything I say is, actually.” Jaskier frowned. “Do you know how hard it is to always have to speak the truth? It comes naturally to most fair folk, they speak in riddles and rhymes since birth, but me, I’ve got to learn those twists and turns of speech.”

“I’m sure you excel in many things, fairy.” Geralt said, having grown tired of listening to Jaskier talk over an hour ago. He wasn’t looking forward to having to spend the rest of his day listening to the fairy talk and wondered if he would ever run out of things to say. While Geralt had some amount of interest in how this man came to be fae, he didn’t want to encourage him, and thus kept his comments to a minimum.

As they made their way into town, Geralt went in search of an inn. He stopped to ask one of the townsfolk who was taking their laundry down from the line where he could find lodging and they pointed him in the direction of the town center. He dismounted Roach and followed their directions, eventually finding himself in front of a rundown inn with a wooden sign proclaiming “Ye Dragon’s Den”.

“That sounds cozy,” Geralt heard Jaskier say behind him.

Geralt hummed noncommittally. He didn’t much care either way what the name of the inn was and didn’t feel like dignifying Jaskier’s chatter with much more of a response than that. Geralt tied his horse to the post outside the inn and went inside to inquire about a room for him and his tag-along. 

Jaskier seemed fascinated by all the people at the bar and Geralt wondered how long it had been since he had been around mortals. He remembered the fairy saying something about how he had not always been a fairy but hadn’t spoken about it much more than that. How could a man become a fairy? Geralt had never heard of such a thing happening before. Jasker went to one end of the bar and inserted himself into a lively group of tavern goers. 

Geralt walked up to the other end of the bar where the bartender was, “Do you have any available lodging for the night as well as stables where I can keep my horse?”

“Would you like one room or two?” The bartender asked Geralt. He was wiping a glass with a dirty rag that wasn’t actually getting any cleaner despite the multiple passes with the cloth.

“One room is fine, though I’d like two beds,” He said, turning to glance over at Jaskier who was telling a loud story to some other bar patrons. They seemed to be hanging on to his every word, laughing uproariously whenever he told what Geralt assumed was a funny story or joke. When he heard Jaskier laugh along it was as if there was the soft chiming of bells and the air seemed clearer for the moment.

“That’ll be five gold for the room and another one if you want dinner and breakfast for you and your companion. Would you like a bath drawn up as well?”

“That would be good, yes,” Geralt said as he opened up his coin pouch and pulled out the gold, sliding the pieces across the hardwood counter. The bartender nodded and passed him two ales.

“Your room is at the end of the hall and your bath will be ready in two hours. Food will be out shortly.” Geralt took the two ales and made his way over to Jaskier.

“Geralt my friend!” Jaskier exclaimed. He seemed to have already drank a whole glass of ale though Geralt wasn’t sure where he could have gotten it from. “I was just talking about you to some of my new lovely friends and telling them all about you,” he said with a grin.

“Hmm,” Geralt furrowed his brow. “I brought you a drink,” He said as he handed it to Jaskier. “We have a room here for the next night and then we can go deal with the bruxae.” Jaskier followed Geralt away from the group of chattering people and joined him at a small table.

Geralt watched as Jaskier looked around the inn in wonder. “I’ve never seen that style of doublets before,” he said, looking at one of the men who was wearing a doublet with a very fashionable cut. “Nor have I often seen men wear doublets without an overtunic or jerkin over the top of them,” he said, eyes wide.

Geralt asked, “How long has it been since you left Carterhaugh?” This style of doublet was a relatively new design, though it had been the fashion to wear one without any covering over the top of it in recent years.

Jaskier answered, surprisingly somber, “Six years at my last count, though I couldn’t be sure. But of course it feels so much longer and like no time has passed at all.”

“How much longer did it seem?” Geralt asked. He had some experience with magical time dilation, though it was different for everyone.

“Oh I couldn’t say,” Jaskier said. “The days bleed into years into months into weeks. It feels so long yet as if it could not possibly have lasted for six years, though I try to count the turning of the seasons.” Jaskier let out a soft laugh. “And I am only a bard.”

Just at that moment a man in a dark grey tunic came to their table, two plates in hand. He gave them each a plate of some sort of meat pie dish with a nod and told them to enjoy the food. Geralt and Jaskier thanked him before beginning to eat their dish.

“How did a bard end up protecting Carterhaugh from intruders, anyway?” Geralt asked abruptly. It had been on his mind for a while and this seemed the perfect opportunity to ask.

Jaskier huffed, “Well I wasn’t always fae.”

“How did you become one I must ask,” Geralt prodded as he took a bite of his meat pie.

“It's kind of a long story,” Jaskier said hesitantly. 

“We have the time,” Geralt encouraged.

“It began in Oxenfurt, where I had begun my classical training as a bard. I was studying music, specializing in playing the lute, though I learned to play a variety of instruments. While I was there I fell in love with a beautiful woman, who I thought to be the Countess de Stael. She was beautiful, and her voice…” Jaskier trailed off, a dreamy look in his eyes. “... her voice was like that of an angel, when she sang you couldn’t help but listen, transfixed. We became involved, as it were, and when I finished my degree I followed her home, where she bade me play at her court.”

Jaskier began to pick at his food, not quite as hungry as he had been a moment ago. “This wasn’t your typical court, you see, and the Countess de Stael wasn’t really a countess but a fairy queen. I played at her court and the queen made me into one of her own, a fae. I was favored by the queen but the others? Not so much,” he laughed sadly. “I drew the ire of many for my human customs, though I was not one anymore, and for sleeping with a few people that I really shouldn’t have. To them I committed many grave missteps for courting above my station, and so I was relegated to the protection of one of the queen’s woods, Carterhaugh, where you met me. That was probably around six years ago now.” 

Geralt had finished eating and was just taking sips of his ale. “Do you miss it, being human?”

“You know,” Jaskier said, pausing and taking a long sip of ale, “out of everything, what I miss most is making music. They took my lute when I was stuck in Carterhaugh and I haven’t been able to play since then. I still think of myself as a bard above all, but I’m not sure if anyone else does,” he smiled sadly.

“If you were sent to protect the woods then how could you leave there with me?” Geralt asked. He had heard of people being trapped by the fae though not of any that could come and go easily.

“We made a bargain,” Jaskier said, “and I cannot break a bargain.”

Geralt smiled, “Very tricky, bard,” and Jaskier smiled, too. It had been a long time since anyone had called him a bard, even longer since he had left Carterhaugh.