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Jaskier had woken up that morning to the sound of Geralt packing up camp and preparing to head west towards Riedbrune where he was hoping to pick up a contract.
Geralt seemed to be in an oddly talkative mood. Jaskier sleepily got out of his bedroll and began to pack it up. As his back was turned away, Geralt said, “At last, sleeping beauty has awakened.”
Jaskier took this in stride, he figured Geralt was still in good spirits from the nekker hunt in Toussaint. For once, the villagers not only thanked them on their way out but also offered provisions for the road. It gave a feeling of lightness to the long journey the rest of the day. Since they left in the morning, Jaskier had plenty of time to spend the working on his latest piece, it was a simple melody and told the story of a princess who spends years in silence, sewing shirts of nettles, in an attempt to break her brothers free of a terrible curse. It was an old story his mother told him as a child and he was excited to transform it into a musical form. Of course, Jaskier thought best out loud and spent the day with a constant stream of chatter about the song and the possible keys he was considering playing it in. Geralt stayed silent for most of the journey, never even pausing Roach to tell Jaskier to silence so all in all Jaskier had a good day.
However, this next morning Geralt had quite a bit more to say than usual on the topic of Jaskier’s composition. The whole time Geralt was packing up, he was quietly muttering to himself about the different things he had to do. Jaskier elected not to draw attention to this in favor of packing up his own supplies. It was not his business if the Witcher suddenly decided that discussing his plans out loud was his new modus operandi. As well, drawing attention to it would only serve to make Geralt silence himself which would be an utter shame in the bard’s opinion.
They headed out on the path to Riedbrune, Jaskier walking in front of Roach while Geralt stayed back aways. Shockingly, Geralt began actually commentating on his piece. He was thinking out loud about the key his new composition should be in.
“Geralt, you see, this is a piece about longing, heartache, the depths someone will go through in order to protect a loved one. She was silent for 6 years Geralt. Six years! Imagine the pain, the loneliness, but also the hope. I am torn between A minor and F major see. They both give completely different emotions to the audience and I cannot for the life of me, decide which one I prefer.”
Jaskier paused to take a breath, ready to continue on his stream of consciousness when he was interrupted by Geralt.
“A minor seems more appropriate. This has a similar tone of Elaine Etterial where a heroine suffering through great hardships.”
“Ah yes, one of my more inspired pieces! What a wonderful idea, the A minor key can bring out the tenderness of character while also giving the audience hope for-”
Jaskier paused. Did Geralt just give him advice? On what key to use? In one of his songs? How did Geralt even know the key he used in Elaine Ettarial and why would he know that and did this mean Geralt always listened to what he had to to say and managed to remember it. And why now of all times did he decided to speak up?
Roach gently nudged him with her snout. He turned around and saw Geralt glowering down at him, “Jaskier.”
The bard decided it was the better part of valor to simply continue on as if Geralt hadn’t just shared more thoughts on Jaskier’s pieces than he ever had before. He continued to explain his piece and if Geralt occasionally jumped in with a piece of advice or a brief comment on the piece, well Jaskier paused and then continued his rambling, not wanting to change this new status-quo they had found themselves in. Fuck, if Jaskier had known Toussaint would inspire such a change in Geralt he would have gone there ages ago.
They stopped for lunch in a small clearing and Geralt estimated they were only a few hours outside of Riedbrune and wouldn’t have to camp for the night.
“Luckily Geralt, I can most likely perform for our room and board and in the morning, you can start all your witchery-ness and perhaps find a contract in the region.”
Geralt spoke as Jaskier turned away and put their water skins and such back in Roach’s saddlebags.
“I know there will be a contract here. The closer we get to the town the stronger the stench of rotting flesh becomes. Something or someone is using rotten corpses. We should hope to make it to the town by nightfall, it becomes more dangerous the latter it gets.”
Jaskier spun around quickly, “As much as I love walking and gain blisters on my blisters I have no desire to be eaten, chewed on, or brutalized by any creatures wandering about so let’s head towards Riedbrune faster than ever. You won’t hear me complain a bit.”
Geralt gave him a confused look, well as confused as Geralt ever looks, and said, “I never said there were creatures around here.”
Geralt swung himself back up onto Roach and they began heading towards the small village ahead. And yes, Geralt had not implicitly said there were creatures trying to attack them, he had very strongly implied it and Geralt almost never gave Jaskier warnings for what he thought was in the town which understandably put the bard on edge. He was entitled to his flash of fear thank you very much.
At this point, Jaskier was beginning to suspect that something was wrong with Geralt. He never spoke this much or relayed his fears to Jaskier in this manner before. Was he perhaps struck by a talkative curse? Was there even such a thing? Jaskier walked ahead of Geralt in silence and his suspicions only grew as his own silence was overtaken by Geralt’s musings behind him of the possible creatures that could be in the town. The fact that he used Geralt and musing together was enough for Jaskier to be confused.
He elected to keep his suspicions to himself for the moment until he could bring it up to Geralt in the safety of a room at the inn. Nothing worse than a Witcher on a rampage. Hopefully, Riedbrune would be home to a mage.
A few hours later in the inn, Jaskier would come to regret his decision to stay silent.
As they walked into town they got the standard stares and glares. The main difference was that this time Geralt seemed to care. He kept hearing him muttering under his breath about the villagers ought to be finding more interesting shit to stare at and how this was already a long day he didn’t need more of this bullshit. Jaskier looked at Geralt in alarm, the last thing they needed was to be driven out of town without even having rested for a moment. Luckily, Geralt must have been muttering under his breathe for no one seemed to hear him. Jaskier assumed he was close enough to hear where no one else could. Thank Melitele for small miracles.
They entered the inn, a grimy looking innkeeper staring at them from behind a counter than double as a front desk and bar.
Jaskier elected to take charge as normal, with the added necessity of needing to keep an obviously cursed Geralt silent, “My good sir, what a gorgeous establishment you have here, my friend and I would love to have a room for the next few nights as well as stable our horse. As you can see here, we have a Witcher, so any monstrous-type problems or even spooky mysteries in your village can be sent right his way.”
The innkeeper grunted, clearly of the same ilk as Geralt, and said, “Don’t know of any monsters terrorizing the town. We have some rooms available but in my experience trouble follows Witchers, not the other way around.”
Jaskier got the room number from the innkeeper and made to head towards the rooms when he heard Geralt, “The only thing that follows you is a swarm of flies and the stench of unwashed flesh.”
Oh, this was the worst-case scenario. While this was not the most reputable establishment they had stayed at Geralt was always able to hold his tongue before and now they were going to be chased out before he could even bathe the horrors. Perhaps he could salvage this. Jaskier grabbed Geralt by the shoulders and looked to the innkeeper.
“Forgive my friend here, he has had a long day and your hospitality has been so gracious and welcoming, and this establishment, so fine, so fantastic.”
The innkeeper looked bewildered at Jaskier’s statement.
“There is nothing to forgive, your friend has been a silent Witcher, the only good kind there is.”
Jaskier paused. Looked at Geralt, and heard “Jaskier has been acting odd all day if I fucking find out he has an ex-lover or disagreement with this town I will personally find them and make sure there is no further quarrel.”
This was a particularly bold statement from Geralt. Jaskier couldn’t help but be a little touched at the threat towards whoever theoretically harmed him. There was just one problem. Geralt’s lips never moved.
Jaskier suddenly felt as though the walls of the inn were growing closer and closer together. If Geralt wasn’t under a spell of some sort if Jaskier could hear what Geralt was thinking without him ever saying it out loud.
“Ah yes, sorry, long day, hard day, you know how it is on the road. I’ll just be...out back! With the horse! Roach!! Fantastic horse, have to make sure that she has only the most proper care in the kingdom, please have a tub of nice warm, hot bathwater sent up so that we can get this awful road-mess away. Thank you!”
Without looking back to see if either replied or in the worst-case didn’t reply but he heard it anyway, Jaskier rushed outside.
Once he put Roach in the stable he tried to reason himself through this situation he found himself in. He began stroking Roach’s mane as he did so, hoping Geralt wouldn’t find an inopportune moment to appear.
Firstly, apparently Jaskier is hearing Geralt’s thoughts. Which, actually, come to think of it put the whole day in perspective a lot better and this is truly a crushing blow to his supposed observational abilities. So, Geralt is not actually cursed to speak his mind but rather Jaskier is cursed to always hear it. For a moment, Jaskier considers running to Geralt and telling him but he was worried that Geralt would send him away and it is getting awfully close to winter. Geralt would head toward Kaer Morhen and Jaskier would find a court to winter at they would not see each other for months. No, it would be better to try and solve this problem on his own. He went back to his past hope that there was, in fact, a mage somewhere in this godforsaken town.
Now all he had to do was pretend that he heard nothing Geralt said. Of course, he could not quite tell the difference yet of Geralt’s thoughts and spoken words so he would have to make due looking at his whenever he hears Geralt to determine which is which. Yes, he could do this. After all, who better to keep the secrets of a Witcher’s mind that a Witcher’s bard?
Jaskier entered their room at the inn and immediately heard.
“Fuck.”
Now, Jaskier was unable to tell if this was a literal fuck or a mental fuck and this was already confusing. Better to say nothing. He sees Geralt taking off his armor piece by piece and setting it down next to the bed. In the center of the room, a large bath already sat waiting. Geralt still had some grime from the nekker hunt on him as they hadn’t quite stayed longer than necessary. Recently Geralt seemed to want to leave towns as soon as the contract was finished.
As Jaskier was looking at Geralt he heard, “Damnnit the buckle for the chest piece is always so fucking hard to reach.”
There it was. Now that Jaskier knew what he was looking for, he could hear the subtle differences between Geralt’s thoughts and words. His thoughts held a little less of a gravelly tone and a more emotional intonation that he would normally have while speaking.
Well, while he had this curse he may as well put it to good use.
“Geralt? Would you like some help with your armor? It seems a bit messy still from the last hunt.”
Geralt grunted in acquiescence and luckily Jaskier heard no further thought. Once the armor was off Geralt slid into the bath as Jaskier took out his lute and made sure it was still perfect after all day on the road. Oftentimes he thought the lute must have some minor enchantments on it from Filavandrel. His precious baby never so much as had a scratch on her, including all the times he used it as an impromptu club in battle. He turned back around and decided to continue his normal routine of helping Geralt wash up.
This was no selkimore and Geralt really only had the standard filth of trekking through the wilderness on him but Jaskier still took the time to clean Geralt’s hair and lather on the nice-smelling lavender soaps he brought with him that the Witcher swore he hated but Jaskier knew he secretly-
Wait. Jaskier could ask Geralt anything and find out the true answer. This was the moment when he could actually determine what was going on in Geralt’s head. No, that was far too much of a breach of privacy. He should not attempt to use this curse for his own gain. However, after almost 15 years at Geralt’s side, he really deserved at least a moment of honesty and a glimpse into his mind. He would ask little questions, nothing big, nothing serious.
“Is the soap as tortuous as ever, I have yet to hear your complaints so I must assume you are not only used to them but that you are beginning to like them”
Geralt hmmmed in response and said, “I find them unnecessary.”
However, right after that statement, Jaskier heard, “I enjoy the lavender more than the lemon at least. I don’t want to go around smelling like I’m edible. Especially if I’m going to be hunting what I think is lurking around here. No reason to up my flavor.”
Jaskier struggled to remain silent and composed as he finished up washing Geralt’s hair and headed back over to the bed to tune his lute. Unfortunately, Geralt’s inner monologue continued.
“Do Witcher’s actually taste better than humans? At least, for a cannibal, or a creature feasting on human flesh. Technically speaking I was born human but do the mutations add an extra layer of flavor like a spice or do they suck away flavor like a sponge with water. Am I a spice or a sponge? These villagers have probably gotten themselves killed by the creature twice over. Tomorrow, a villager will surely walk up to me in the Tavern and request for me to try and save their missing child, wife, mother, husband, or even pig. I want to give a fuck yet I have none left to give at the moment.”
Jaskier struggled to breathe. He was wheezing in an effort to keep from laughing. All these years of telling off the bard for his chatty nature and Geralt practically writing books in his head the whole time. Spice or Sponge? Melitele’s tits it was just like Geralt to spend his free-time wondering about cannibalism. This curse was certainly going to be the death of him.
The rest of the night, Jaskier tried to do his best to ignore the constant stream of thoughts going through Geralt’s head as best he could. As Jaskier bathed he tried not to think about Geralt thinking about what the other Witchers were up to. Jaskier had no idea who Lambert was but apparently Geralt spent his free time trying to think of a good insult to greet him with when they next met up.
That night they shared the bed as they often do in their travels. Geralt tended to meditate as he fell asleep and luckily enough meditation relied on the assumption of clearing one’s thoughts so Jaskier was able to sleep without any unwanted thoughts interrupting his own.
He woke up to “Jaskier smells nice this morning.” and just about threw himself out of the bed. Geralt sat up and looked down at Jaskier with the most perplexed expression.
“Everything alright Jaskier?”
For a moment, he didn’t reply. Then he realized Geralt actually spoke those words out loud and yes, he could in fact respond.
“Yes, yes, everything is fine. Just….woke up suddenly you see, slipped right on out the bed. Are the sheets slippery? I think they are rather slippery don’t you?”
Geralt just continued to stare at him.
“I am too tired for this”
With that, he got out of the bed and began to get ready for the morning. He dressed in full armor, likely preparing for whatever hunt the poor bastard he believed would come and find him today was going to give. Jaskier, however, could hardly concentrate. Geralt thought about how he smelled? Was that a Witcher thing? Apparently he smelled good to Geralt which was...nice. Jaskier had no idea exactly how to feel about it. As such, he dressed in a bit of a daze, hair still mussed from sleep. As Geralt went to leave the room to go downstairs he heard, “His hair is adorable when he’s just woken up.”
Jaskier feels his face goes as red as his doublet and he is so happy Geralt has already left the room so he can’t see his complete mortification. He thought Geralt’s mental ramblings last night were bad. But the strange compliments directed at him he never heard? Far worse.
By the time he managed to collect himself and head downstairs, Geralt is already deep in conversation with a man at a table in a corner. It’s always a table in the corner, isn’t it? Jaskier sits down next to Geralt just in time to hear the other man say, “I can pay you, a few families have gathered together plenty of money.”
Jaskier notices Geralt has already gotten him breakfast and it’s laid out on the table. He begins eating the bowl of porridge Geralt got for him and is pleased to see that Geralt continues to perform these small acts of gratitude. While he may not be the most verbose of men, at least out loud, Geralt always manages to show his care in his actions.
The man takes out a purse coin and sets it on the table. Geralt nods and tells the man, “I accept your offer, makes sure to stay indoors tonight.”
“Thank you, Witcher! Blessings upon you, we have so many deaths from this mysterious creature no one is safe in the night anymore!”
“You would think after the first few you would stop going out at night altogether, but clearly that is too much to ask. You can’t stop people from enjoying their completely necessary midnight walks.”
Jaskier inhales his water on accident and has to cough it out in the most awkward way possible. A few droplets of water land on the table and by the time he’s done his face is red and both Geralt and the man-who-he-never-learned-his-name are giving him a look.
“Sorry, just, ugh, went down the wrong pipe.”
Geralt doesn’t seem completely convinced but turns back and finishes up his conversation with the man and waves his goodbye. He then turns to Jaskier and tells him.
“I have a contract. For the past week, dead bodies have begun turning up on the outskirts of town and the cemetery has been almost completely dug up.”
Jaskier nods, “So is this a fabulous day-time hunt or must we wait until it is dark and gloomy and so sane man ventures out?”
Geralt glowers, “There is no we for this hunt. I will be going alone. Tonight.”
“It is most likely Grave Hag, and that is far too dangerous for Jaskier to be around, the last thing I want is to see him hurt.”
Jaskier feels his face turning red again and he cannot keep spending time around Geralt now. Geralt who in the privacy of his own mind is sweet and validates what Jaskier has thought might just be one-sided for years. It’s almost as if Geralt is in -- No, he doesn’t want to go there. Not now, not ever. Geralt is a Witcher who hunts monsters and merely allows Jaskier to follow him along. Sure, Geralt might care for Jaskier more than he thought but that does not mean the Witcher feels more for him than that.
Jaskier has allowed silence to fill up the breakfast table. He realizes Geralt going alone means he can search for a mage in the town and attempt to find a cure. This whole ‘hearing Geralt’s thoughts’ business has gone on long enough. He honestly doesn’t know if his heart can take much more of this.
Despite his resolve to try and avoid Geralt, there is no excuse he can think of the leave him for the day before the hunt tonight and the two of them end up heading towards the market together. Jaskier spends his time persuing the merchants of finer items in life, nice silks, sweet perfumes, while Geralt heads straight towards the nearest blacksmith to see if he can sharpen his swords.
Jaskier finds himself towards a lovely florist who has children selling crowns of flowers out front.
“I beg your pardon madame,” he says, keeping his voice light and airy, “I am Jaskier, a humble bard passing through town and I may have a need to ask you a question.”
She giggles, her black hair curling around her face, “and I am Roma, a pleasure to meet you, bard. What does a handsome fellow such as yourself have the need to ask of me?”
“Well, Roma, lovely lady of the flowers, I travel with a Witcher and wonder about the many curses and spells I have seen on my travels by his side. I have a simple question of a magical nature and wonder if there are any in these parts who know of such things.”
She pauses for a moment, thinking. From anyone else, these questions might seem suspicious and people would often want to pry, but Jaskier made sure to make himself seem innocent and indubitable.
“There is a village elder who lives in the East Side of town. Her name is Madame Damaria and while I wouldn’t qualify her as a mage she is a magic-user and could help you on your path. Her house is the one with the baskets of roses out front.”
Jaskier flashes her an award-winning smile and thanks her. When he heads outside he hears a stray thought and realizes Geralt must be near again. He sees the children outside with the flower crowns and suddenly has the most wonderful idea. He goes over to a young girl with long, straight hair. She has incredibly wide-brown eyes that look up at Jaskier as he bends down to whisper something to her. He presses a copper into her hands and she nods very seriously before her face split into a grin and she runs towards the corner.
Geralt rounds the corner and is immediately accosted by a small child holding a yellow crown of flowers in her hand.
“These are for you, Mr. Witcher,” she says.
Jaskier can’t help but let out a small laugh at the sight. He knows Geralt has a soft spot for children and can hardly let such a wide-eyed child down. So he receives the pleasure of watching the Witcher, in full armor, bend down on one knee to allow the little girl to place the crown on his head. He’s smiling, and walk a beautiful expression that is. Jaskier walks over and Geralt quickly stands up, the crown titled just a bit to the right on his head.
“What a handsome look Geralt, I can only imagine the women lusting over you now.”
Jaskier says it playfully, but Geralt scowls and reaches his hand up as if to take off the crown. Jaskier puts his own arm out and stops Geralt’s, his voice losing its playful edge.
“Wait, don’t remove it. I like it. It suits you.”
Jaskier tilts his head, expecting to hear Geralt’s thoughts but he only hears silence and suddenly Geralt’s cheeks gain the smallest hint of color and if he didn’t know the Witcher better than that he would think he’s...blushing? He feels his own cheeks heat in response and suddenly they are standing just a little too close and Jaskier’s hand is still on Geralt’s arm. The afternoon sun is hitting Geralt as just the right angle, seemingly illuminating the flowers on his head and giving it an almost halo-like effect.
He takes a step back and the moment is broken. He quickly turns around and begins walking back to the inn, Geralt falling into step behind him.
“You know,” Jaskier begins rambling, “some of those yellow flowers are actually buttercups. My name, uh, Jaskier, can mean buttercup in different languages on the coast. That’s where my mother was inspired to give me my name. I don’t know how accurate it is as buttercups are poisonous and I really don’t think I’m poisonous but you never really know if you are or are not poisonous I suppose.”
Geralt simply looks at him and Jaskier hears, “Perhaps it is not Jaskier that is poison but me that is poisoning him. He is too sweet for the path I have decided to take. He will tire of me soon and I will be alone once more.”
Jaskier’s heart breaks at Geralt’s thought. Surely he has proven his loyalty to Geralt time and time again. He doesn’t truly believe he would ever leave his side? How strange it must be, to be inside a Witcher’s mind. Geralt is a confusing contradiction. His thoughts are sweeter than his words, his actions sweeter still and yet he continues to doubt those around him.
“You know Geralt, in all my years of traveling I have never felt so much excitement as when I have traveled with you. Perhaps for many, this would be considered dangerous but I feel the safety offered freely by you to me. Of course, I must also thank you for helping me leap to the heights of stardom in the musical realm. Toss a Coin and all that.”
At the tavern, the sun is beginning to set and Jaskier is playing for a rather crowded tavern. Clearly, this town does not have a bard, or lacks a talented bard of their own, and are excited to see an Oxenfurt styling in their own village. He begins the night with a jaunty tune and soon goes into his personal favorite, the Fishmonger’s Daughter. Everyone is clapping and stomping their feet to the beat. He plays for a few hours, going through a wide range of songs and emotional holds for the crowd. Soon, he sees Geralt get up, most likely to prepare for the hunt and decides to once again, restore the reputation of Witchers.
“Ladies and Gentlemen we have a special guest tonight. If you look to the back you can see the mighty Geralt of Rivia, about to head into the night to save this town from whatever may plague it. At last, I present….”
When a humble bard
Graced a ride-along
With Geralt of Rivia
Along came this song
When the White Wolf fought
A silver-tongued devil
His army of elves
At his hooves did they revel
They came after me
With masterful deceit
Brokedown my lute
And they kicked in my teeth
Geralt committed to his customary scowl as he did whenever Jaskier began to sing Toss a Coin, but Jaskier continued his performance. The audience was cheering as Jaskier began to interact with them, miming a kicking in of his own teeth and posing as he came to particularly dramatic parts.
Toss a coin to your Witcher
Oh, valley of plenty
Oh, valley of plenty
Toss a coin to your Witcher
A friend of humanity
As Jaskier reach the final verses of the song he looked right at Geralt with a bright smile, daring him to try and leave now. He stepped up onto a table as people surrounded him, cheering and singing along. Suddenly a thought that was not his own reached his mind.
“Jaskier is fucking hot when he’s performing.”
This shocked Jaskier so much he lost his footing on the table and fell right off onto a poor man who was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. The man’s beer crashed into the floor and Jaskier hoped the man wouldn’t bear a grudge. Being a veteran of falling on his ass, Jaskier had saved his lute and held it up over his head as he fell. Did Geralt just….? He stood up quickly and looked at the crowd.
“Thank you, everyone! I think that was destiny’s way of telling me that my glorious performance is over for the night, you were a fantastic audience and may your crops grow splendid and your daughter’s always chaste!”
The tavern’s atmosphere shifted as people went back to their tables and began talking amongst their own groups again. Jaskier headed to the back of the tavern where the rooms were and waved to Geralt.
“So, rate my performance, lovely as always?”
“Lovely is not quite the word I would use.”
Geralt said it in his gruff monotone voice, but there was a hint of teasing behind the words.
“I could also use the words gorgeous, sexy, fuckable. Who knew having a song written about you could be such a turn-on?”
At this point Jaskier was having trouble breathing, looking Geralt straight in the eyes as he heard these thoughts. He never thought he would hear the day that Geralt so much as complimented his music let alone...This was a terrible turn of events. How was he suppose to ever play Toss a Coin again knowing Geralt got off on it? How in the Lioness of Cintra’s ass did he hide it so damn well? He realized he had been silent for a startling amount of time and collected himself.
“Ah, yes, well, I meant to fall if that’s what you are talking about. It’s called artistic interpretation.”
Geralt merely grunted as they headed back to their room. He put on his swords, knives, and other assorted tools of monstrous destruction. Jaskier handed him the satchel full of potions and Geralt turned to head out into the now dusky night. He turned towards Jaskier.
“Please, Jaskier, do not follow me tonight.”
Jaskier, knowing he had to go and find Madame Damaria tonight only nodded. He heard Geralt’s unspoken plea. “Stay safe.”
Jaskier headed quickly to the east side of town and sure enough, there was a home on the edge with rose baskets out front. He knocked on the door and patiently waited until an older woman with wrinkles that spoke of stories and a smile that spoke of a good like opened the door.
“Hello young man,” she started, “What can I do for you on this fine night?”
“Are you Madame Damaria?”
“Most certainly.”
“May I come in? I have a question to ask you as a magic-user. Roma recommended you.”
“Of course, come right in. I have tea in the main room, just follow me.”
She led him into a small sitting area where there was a small tea set on a table. Jaskier sat down and explained the curse to her. She asked a number of clarifying questions. What he absolutely sure he could only hear Geralt? When did he first notice hearing his thoughts? Did he come into contact with any malicious mages recently?
He answered them all clearly although he was embarrassed to say that he had no idea when or how he was cursed. Geralt was far more often the target of curses and the like than him. Outside of the djinn incident, Jaskier had grown used to Geralt being cursed, not him.
She opened her arms and breathed in deeply before looking right at Jaskier and breathing out. A feeling of water rushing over him went as quickly as it came. He looked over at Madame Damaria who looked no more or less worried than when he walked in her door.
“Good news, boy, I know what caused the curse. A fae must have cursed you in the woods, I can sense the presence of its magic. Luckily too, the fae are not harmful creatures but rather mischievous. This curse was not intended to permanently maim you. They likely saw you with your lute and bright colors and figured you would find this as hilarious as them. They saw you as kin”
Jaskier sighed, fantastic, now he had to deal with the fae. Geralt would likely run into the fae realm and attempt to fight their queen with no regard for his safety in order to break this curse. Mischievous indeed.
“Is there any way to break this curse that does not involve fighting the fae?”
Madame Damaria laughed, “Of course, the fae just want to cause a bit of chaos. I do not have the power to break it but you do. All magic demands sacrifice see, and in order to break this curse, you simply have to pay it back. “
“Pay it back? What on the continent does that mean?”
“This curse makes you hear the most innermost thoughts and secrets of the person you are closest to. To break this curse you must do the same in return and tell him your innermost thought and secret.”
Jaskier suddenly felt faint.
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you will always be connected and your friend shall never have the privacy of his own mind again.”
He sighed. Geralt was constantly targeted, by villagers, by monsters, and seen as an outcast. He was always analyzed and judged. He at the least deserved the privacy of his own mind. However, if Jaskier were to confess to Geralt he would lose that which he holds most dear. Despite what he has heard from Geralt throughout the day, he cannot see the man truly accepting his confession. Jaskier’s greatest fear is losing Geralt, but he cannot continue this way. Even if the man would cast him out, Jaskier would do this for him. Conceivably Jaskier could continue pretending. Catching glimpses of the man behind the Witcher through his thoughts but Geralt deserves better. He resigns himself to his fate as he thanks Madame Damaria and walks back towards the inn.
The streets are completely empty. Jaskier supposes Geralt’s warning must have been enough to scare people away and keep them safe and out of harm’s way. He suddenly feels a sense of foreboding wrapping around him. Just as he is about to start running he hears Geralt shout, “Jaskier duck!”
Jaskier ducks just in time to see a sword go over his head and land with a squishy noise in something or someone behind him. Almost afraid to turn around he looks and sees a seemingly deformed, naked, elderly woman with rotten flesh lumbering towards him. He is not afraid to say that he lets out a small yelp as Geralt leaps over him and grabs his word off the ground. It seems in that strike Geralt managed to sever the Hag’s long tongue which trailed on the ground, still twitching. The battle is hard to follow due to the speed of both combatants, however, now that the grave hag has lost her tongue, her greatest weapon, it is a winning battle for Geralt.
He finally manages to strike her head clean off and it lands with a thump in the cobblestone of the street. His Witcher is covered in blood and there are branches and leaves stuck in his hair. Not the worst Jaskier has seen Geralt after a hunt, but not the best either. Geralt looks at Jaskier and his eyes are still pitch black from the potions yet Jaskier can see the concern lacing his features.
“He seems to be okay, no injuries, just shocked, I can’t believe the grave hag smelled him. Damnnit I should have been faster. Why was Jaskier out here instead of somewhere safe? One day he will get hurt and it will be my fault”
“What were you doing out? I told you not to follow.”
Jaskier cannot handle this any longer. There are likely better times to confess the truth than standing the in the blood of a grave hag in an abandoned street but Jaskier was never one for proper timing.
“Well, Geralt, you see, for the past day I have been terribly cursed-ACk”
Jaskier is cut off as Geralt grabs his face and looks his over for injuries or signs of pain, and it might not have been the best idea to say that while Geralt was still on edge from the potions.
“Let go of me you big brute, I’m fine! The curse, if anything, was hurting you more than me.”
“No matter what happens to me I need Jaskier safe, whatever cursed him shall regret the hour they glanced upon him.”
Jaskier cannot take hearing Geralt’s words anymore, stealing his privacy and love and attention like a...like a sponge! Taking it all until there is nothing left and surely Geralt will hate him after this, knowing his secrets were laid bare to him. He tries to talk without breathing, without pausing for a moment to hear what Geralt is thinking
“For the past day, I have been able to hear your thoughts. I’m sorry I cannot control it no matter what I do and I went to a magic-user in town and the only way to lift it is to in return give you my most precious secret so here it is.”
Jaskier takes a breathe, at that moment, Geralt’s brain is going in as many directions as his own. Geralt is wondering if Jaskier has a secret son, a secret fortune, or has been using Geralt all along, oh Melitele he wants this curse to end. There are no lights in the streets but the moon is close to full and in its light, he can see the confusion and worry on Geralt’s face. Then, standing in the blood of a monster looking up the face of a man who believed himself to be one Jaskier quietly said his secret.
“I’m in love with Geralt of Rivia, my Witcher and deepest friend.”
With that, the spell was lifted. It was as though a muscle Jaskier didn’t even know he had unclenched and he could fully breathe again. He felt the magic dissipate and leave. He heard nothing but silence. Jaskier sighed and turned away, feeling the tears beginning to burn behind his eyes. He heard a hitch of breath behind him and suddenly Geralt was grabbing his arm spinning him around and
oh.
Geralt is kissing Jaskier softly, hesitantly, like any moment Jaskier could join the mists surrounding them and simply drift away. Geralt’s hands are shaking a bit but pressed up against Jaskier’s cheeks and he is so nervous but Jaskier suddenly feels the love that is being given to him. For a moment Jaskier forgets to breathe and then he’s reaching his arms under the Witcher’s own and holding onto him, knowing he won’t let go.
Geralt pulls back and looks into Jaskier eye’s and the black is finally receding leaving only a bright gold behind. Geralt looks for vulnerable that Jaskier has ever seen him and when he speaks it is soft and quiet.
“If you have even been into my mind but for a moment you have seen how much I care and admire you. I worry that I will ruin you, make you follow a monster along a path you don’t know any better than to follow. I don’t deserve your love Jaskier, however, you will always have mine in return.
Jaskier’s breathing hitches and his voice comes out a little raw.
“You stupid Witcher, you think I cannot make my own choices. I am a continent-renowned bard, famous in my own right, with a noble title waiting at home. I follow you because you bring me the joy I have lacked in every other aspect of my life. You have given me an adventure of a lifetime and there could be nothing greater than to join you on every journey as long as you would have me.”
This time, it is Jaskier who initiates the kiss, Geralt being unusually reticent and dare Jaskier say it, scared. He kisses him with all the passion he has held back for years and Geralt simply melts into him. It’s perfect, in a way, that they finally meet on the remains of a battlefield, the trappings of an adventure. The journey of the bard and his witcher is far from over. In many ways, it is just beginning and Jaskier wouldn’t want it any other way.