Chapter Text
The objective was simple.
Storm the castle, kill the mage, rake in the coin. It was clockwork to Geralt, and Jaskier too, but if there was one thing Geralt had learned in his training as a witcher it was that life always had other plans.
So why he had agreed to let Jaskier accompany him on this job was beyond him.
“If you would simply tell me more about your work, I wouldn’t have to trail after you to get every little detail,” Jaskier explained as they hiked up the mountain. “After all, one can’t create masterpieces with a simple, ‘I stabbed them’.”
“Yet that’s never stopped you before,” Geralt commented, taking note of the singed brush on their left.
Apparently, the mage in the area had set off several destructive fires, windstorms, floods, anything natural that could destroy a village. The survivors had moved, but many wanted their home back and were willing to pay a pretty coin for it.
“While I can sing with the best of them, Geralt, I should like to be better and for that, I need it all. The stab wounds, the gnashing teeth, your innermost thoughts and feelings.”
“Hm.”
He could feel Jaskier’s eye roll and he readied himself for the next onslaught of words, but Jaskier’s tone quickly changed as the castle came into view. It was decaying with the forest around it, but many of the walls still stood with defiance as vines tucked into every nook and cranny. In its former glory, it was surely to be rivaled, but it seemed its days were long since past.
“A castle on a mountain, it’s as if this was a song waiting to be written,” Jaskier said with his usual glee. “Geralt of Rivia, the fortress against towering stone walls.”
Geralt had heard worse, but he knew trying to shut up Jaskier now would just result in more defiant chatter. Jaskier could be quiet when necessary, even though his opinion of that differed drastically from Geralt’s. Luckily, Jaskier had gone silent now, taken to observing the castle as they made their way closer.
The protection spells were easy to sense, it was just the process of breaking them down. Judging by the destruction the mage had already caused, it would be an arduous task at best, but one Geralt was prepared for. He set to scouting out a weakness, an anchor point, something more tangible than just throwing his magic into the air. As luck would have it, the mage had somehow overpassed a single door and one that Geralt took no time in knocking down.
Of course, it was too easy and Geralt was quick to have his sword drawn and ready.
“You should go back down the mountain,” Geralt spoke in a hushed tone to Jaskier.
He glanced at the stairs just beyond the doorway, the darkness almost pitch black. There were no torches, sensibly, but that also made it all the more dangerous for Jaskier.
“No, you promised me,” Jaskier whispered harshly.
Geralt repressed a groan, already seeing Jaskier sneak after him. At least if Jaskier was by his side, there was a better chance of protecting him. Not that Jaskier cared that it also meant a better chance of him getting killed.
Grabbing Jaskier’s hand, Geralt led them up the stairs, his sword ready to strike or protect. Their footsteps were too loud, probably already alerting the mage of their presence, but there was nothing Geralt could do about it now. At the top of the stairs, they were finally greeted by sunlight pouring through small windows, a long hallway with multiple doors. If this was a game they had to play, Geralt was already exhausted.
“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, breaking the silence.
Whipping his head towards Jaskier, Geralt gave him a warning glare, but Jaskier merely glared back.
“My hand,” he bit. “You’re crushing it to death.”
Geralt dropped his hold on Jaskier as if he had touched a flame, mumbling out a quick apology before turning back to the hall. All senses were on high alert and he took a step away from Jaskier just to get away from his pulsing heartbeat.
At last, he heard the rustle that was not the two of them and he approached one of the doors with practiced caution. With a breath, Geralt threw the door open, dodging the first set of spells that spilled out of the room. Casting his own in return, Geralt and the mage were caught in a battle of avoiding rather than landing any actual hits. Geralt wanted to throw his sword to end it all, but no doubt the mage would stop it with some other spell.
The room was in ruins, splinters of wood flying around as a fire had overtaken another corner. A piece of shrapnel swiped past Geralt’s face but his charging threw the mage off as the next spell misfired. It was just enough to give Geralt his chance until a portal opened and the mage jumped through it.
“Fuck,” Geralt snarled. He had been so close only to lose the target in the end.
He kicked at a broken chair, sheathing his sword as he gave the room a look over. There was nothing of value and with the mage’s spells wearing off, the castle was nothing more than what it looked like on the outside. A groan caught his attention, letting Geralt forget about a job failed for the time being in favor of making sure Jaskier was okay.
Jaskier wobbled to his feet, a dazed look in his eyes. With a few rapid blinks and the shake of his body, the initial shock had worn off, a small smile spreading on his face. However, Geralt wasn’t convinced, his medallion humming against his chest. He had been hit with a spell, that much he was certain of.
“Do you feel any different?” Geralt eyed Jaskier, grabbing his arm and examining every uncovered inch of skin that he could. “Aches, burning?”
“Well, no, I–Geralt, stop that,” Jaskier swatted at him, hopping away. “What are you on about?”
Geralt sighed heavily. “A spell hit you. I don’t know which one so we have to figure this out together.”
Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he patted down his body in a frantic manner.
“There could be a mark on you, a pattern of some sort,” Geralt supplied, his hands twitching at his sides.
While he knew what to look for, he wasn’t sure Jaskier did as the man spun in a helpless circle.
“They’re easy to spot, right?” Jaskier’s voice pitched up ever so slightly.
“No. Many are barely visible on the skin.”
Jaskier frowned, not ready to expose all of his body in that instant just to see if the mage got him. “Are there any other...things...we could look for? Stripping down here isn’t exactly ideal.”
Geralt sighed, his shoulders tensing up. “Possibly. We should try to find a mark first.”
“Right,” Jaskier nodded, grabbing Geralt’s wrist. “Well, let’s be on our way then.”
Jaskier gave a quick smile then, false, but no malice hidden underneath. The worry from before had appeared to be no longer and the two departed from the castle so Jaskier could be checked over completely. It wasn’t an easy task however, as the moment they reached a secluded area, Jaskier was overcome with embarrassment.
“You can’t see your own back, Jaskier,” Geralt chided as Jaskier kept walking further and further into the woods, his upper layers held tight against his body. “It’s not as if I haven’t seen you in the bath.”
“Well,” Jaskier called back. “This is different. You’re staring.”
That much was true, but it was only for the sake of finding the mark. Geralt reminded Jaskier as such and it was only then that Jaskier let Geralt approach.
“Trousers,” Geralt motioned.
With a sigh, Jaskier rid himself of all his clothing, his face reddening by the second. Geralt paid it no mind, inspecting the skin for anything out of the ordinary. He didn’t need to use his hands and he was mindful of the distance he kept from Jaskier.
“You can check your own front. I don’t need to do that,” Geralt said, in hopes of calming down Jaskier’s nervousness.
“Right, right,” Jaskier let out a small laugh.
Geralt did his best to rationalize Jaskier’s emotions. Even if he himself had little modesty and thought the same of Jaskier, he didn’t really know what went on in the bard’s mind. If anything, the night they had to hide in a cramped closet together should’ve said where their comfort levels were. Jaskier hadn’t had time to put on his chemise and Geralt could still remember the scent of a high that filled the small space.
There seemed to be something in the middle of Jaskier’s shoulder blades, but it ended up being a cluster of freckles, each varying slightly in color. Geralt didn’t remember Jaskier having so many on his back and he almost started counting them until that one little mole near his neck caught his attention in its usual fashion. Pulling his gaze away, Geralt took to staring at his hands, an attempt to give Jaskier a little privacy.
When the two finally affirmed there was nothing on Jaskier, Geralt frowned. There were only two ways this misguided spell could go and Geralt only hoped it was the one that just required a good night’s rest.
“That’s not a good look,” Jaskier commented once he was fully dressed. “Is it that bad?”
“I’m not sure,” Geralt admitted. He mulled over telling the truth to Jaskier and decided now was better than later. “When there’s nothing to be seen, it either means the spell is superficial or there’s something worse underneath. We may just have to wait and see what happens.”
Jaskier swallowed, his eyes going wide. “But if we wait, what if I drop dead? Geralt, what if I lose my ability to sing?”
Geralt wanted to laugh at Jaskier’s greater concern for his singing, but he held it down for Jaskier’s sake. “Then we should hurry to the nearest village. Hopefully they’ll have a healer that can sort this out.”
With a nod, Jaskier led the way before he stopped with a sheepish smile. “Don’t quite know how to get out of here.”
Geralt motioned in the direction Jaskier had been heading as he stepped ahead of him. There was a shift in the air and Geralt could feel Jaskier’s worry with every step. When they reached Roach at last, the sun was setting and Geralt thought back to when they had left her, surprised it had taken them the entire day. At any rate, Geralt didn’t want to stop now, sensing Jaskier’s anxiousness. He mounted Roach before holding out a hand to Jaskier, not realizing he had scared the man when Jaskier jumped.
“What?” Jaskier stared at the hand in front of him.
“Faster if we ride together. When Roach gets tired, we’ll take turns.”
Without any more questions, Jaskier gladly took Geralt’s hand, taking his place behind him. His hands landed on Geralt’s hips when Roach took off, but afterwards, they seemed to wander all over the place as Jaskier tried to find the right spot for them.
“Where you had them before was fine,” Geralt spoke, smiling a little at the nervous laugh he received from this.
When Jaskier’s hands found their previous place, Geralt merely noted how strong Jaskier’s grip was before thinking over what could happen in the next hours. Jaskier’s heart had finally calmed down, though that was the only thing that went back to normal. Jaskier had little to say, even his small humming in the darkness felt lackluster, and Geralt had to break the silence.
“If you have anything, we’ll fix it.”
Jaskier sighed, his shoulders deflating. “It’s not that, really it’s not. I’m just…” his voice trailed off, but Geralt did not miss the way his grip tightened. “I’m just mad at my own carelessness. I know the dangers, I know what we get ourselves into. I should’ve been paying attention.”
Geralt mulled this over, unused to Jaskier reprimanding himself. They had been in plenty of spots before, Jaskier stumbling over his feet, risking both their lives without having anything to say about it.
“The jobs are always unpredictable,” Geralt started, unsure of where he was going. He wasn’t used to comforting. “You can’t blame yourself for the unexpected.”
Jaskier wasn’t convinced, but he nodded nonetheless. Geralt wanted to say more, to find other words to take Jaskier’s mind off of the incident, but he was at a loss. If there was any indication of what kind of spell hit Jaskier, it appeared to be a self-loathing one at this very moment.
“Don’t worry, Geralt,” Jaskier mumbled, his forehead coming to rest on Geralt’s back. “I’m thinking back on many of our jobs, not just this one. I suppose it was going to catch up with me at some point.”
The conversation dried up between them then, Geralt with his own turmoil as Jaskier dealt with overthinking.
“Gods, is that the sun?”
Geralt glanced at the eastern horizon and saw the first peek of light, amazed that Jaskier had let them walk away from the mage’s castle for so long. A squawk grabbed his attention and he glanced towards Jaskier, half-expecting to see him choking on a yawn.
Instead, there was no Jaskier.
Geralt whipped his head around, searching, until he saw a pile of clothes on the ground. Leaping off Roach, Geralt rushed over to the clothing only to come to a sliding halt as a rather large lark wiggled out from them. Its feathers were beige upon white, the face a striped black with two little horn-like feathers sticking out of the top of its head.
“Jaskier?” Geralt blinked.
The lark let out a shrill noise and jumped, as if it was taken aback by its own sound. Immediately, the lark set into a series of chirps and notes, the black marks seeming to form angry eyebrows and Geralt breathed a small, “Fuck,” to himself.
“Alright, Jaskier,” Geralt bellowed over the shrilling. The lark stopped, letting out just one more chirp before going silent. “So you’re a lark. This should be an easy spell to break.”
He could see the questioning look on Jaskier’s beaked face and he sighed, uncomfortable with being the one who had to break the silence.
“If the village has a healer, that will be enough. You’ll be back to your slightly less annoying self in no time.”
Jaskier pecked at his hand earning a small “Ow,” from Geralt that Jaskier seemed particularly proud of. With a grimace, Geralt gathered Jaskier’s clothing from the ground and packed it into one of Roach’s saddlebags before remounting her. As they set off, it was then Geralt noticed Jaskier sitting on his shoulder and he repressed a groan.
“You have wings, Jaskier.”
Jaskier looked down at his bird body as if he had forgotten and took a hesitant flap. Jumping from Geralt’s shoulder, he did a small circle around the man, a bright song filling the air.
“Yes, alright,” Geralt sighed, wondering how long his patience would last. “Just watch out for hawks.”
Jaskier was quick to stop his singing and he hovered near Geralt and Roach, the pace now up to a quick trot. As much as Geralt wanted Jaskier back as a human, he didn’t mind having a steadier pace due to the transformation. Now there was a thought, wishing for Jaskier to be himself again. Geralt had always preferred animals to people, finding something that didn’t talk back to be the easier companion. Jaskier had been the rare exception and Geralt wracked his mind for when that moment happened exactly.
It had been, what, years now? Years of travelling, adventure, and getting to know each other. Or rather, Geralt getting to know Jaskier. The opposites that they were, Jaskier was an open book while Geralt didn’t wish to think about the darker parts of his past. Jaskier was always polite, never prodding more once he noticed Geralt’s sullen attitude, yet once the conversation switched, there was that small part of Geralt that wanted to talk about it all. Perhaps a need for sympathy, for someone to just listen and look at it from an outsider view.
Geralt turned his gaze up to where Jaskier was flying, a small tinge of envy at how free Jaskier looked. How free Jaskier always was. The song that passed by his ear brought a small smile to his face and Geralt decided to stop dwelling in his thoughts for now.
As the day wore on, Geralt found himself able to make some sort of conversation that he was used to having with Roach. With Jaskier’s small chirps as acknowledgement, Geralt had to admit it was actually quite nice. Besides the occasional pecks when Geralt got sarcastic.
When a village came in sight, Jaskier was quick to shoot ahead and Geralt assumed he was scouting out the healer for them. As Geralt entered, Jaskier had flown back, his head hanging as dejectedly as it could for a bird.
“Next one then,” Geralt sighed, stopping at a stable to give Roach some food and rest. “We’ll just stock up here. We can camp on the road with you like this.”
Jaskier nodded his agreement as Geralt talked to the stablehand, finding out information about the surrounding villages. Soon, they were back on the road, Geralt heading in a new direction for Jaskier’s sake.
“Stablehand said there’s a healer to the north,” Geralt explained. “A powerful one too.”
A bright chirp was Jaskier’s response and he took off flying again. Geralt was sure if he could understand Jaskier’s bird singing, it’d just be the usual chatter from the man. He couldn’t help smile a little, amused by the situation for just a moment.
As they reached thick forests, Geralt set to looking for a particularly nice patch of ground to settle on. He couldn’t sense any foreboding danger, so it seemed for the time being, the forest was theirs. Just as the sun was beginning to set, Geralt set to making a fire as Jaskier sat on a nearby log half-buried in the ground, somehow grooming himself much like the wild equivalent would.
Geralt said nothing, but something was nagging at the back of his mind. The nagging seemed to grow and Geralt shifted as his skin began to prick. His armor was uncomfortable, his clothes too. Everything felt like it was on fire. The sun disappeared, the oncoming night greeted with a howl.
“Oh, Geralt, I had the oddest dream. There was a mage, you were there, and...Geralt?”
Jaskier blinked, glancing down at himself unclothed and scrambled backwards, his knees tucked to his chest. Before him was scattered armor and clothing, beneath it all a white wolf with golden eyes, lumbering to its feet.
“Oh, no, no, no,” Jaskier shook his head as the wolf shook off the discarded garments. “Now you?”
The wolf let out a low huff before taking the armor into its mouth, making a neat pile near Roach, who was more focused on the foliage.
“Hold on,” Jaskier scrambled to his feet, stopping just before the white wolf. “This is just a one time thing, right? Me as a lark once, you as a wolf once?”
There was too long of a pause and Jaskier threw himself across Roach. Her ears flicked but she let Jaskier hang his arms on her, his face buried into her shoulder.
“What kind of curse is this?” Jaskier bemoaned before remembering his unclothed state. “Right.”
First things first, Jaskier wanted to get back into his clothes and he dressed as Geralt settled in front of the fire.
“You’re awfully calm about this,” Jaskier commented as he pulled on his doublet at last. “I hope you’re not resigned to our fate.”
Geralt just sighed, his head on his paws as he stared into the fire.
“I suppose you’re right. Nothing we can do about it for now,” Jaskier filled in the gaps.
The fire crackled before Jaskier spoke again. “But why am I a lark? At least you’re a wolf that can still fight and grab things with its mouth. I just...fly.” Jaskier waved his hand around, a scowl on his face.
For a moment, he wondered if Geralt had stopped listening. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
“Geralt?” Jaskier asked.
The wolf’s ears flicked towards him, though his eyes remained on the fire. This brought Jaskier’s spirits up a little and he got up to get his lute off of Roach. Geralt lifted his head, watching him with wary eyes.
“Now you don’t get to say anything about my practicing,” Jaskier teased as he sat back by the fire. He knew Geralt never meant anything by those comments, but sometimes it was fun to agitate him just a little.
Jaskier plucked at the strings, nonsense lyrics coming to his mind. He thought how he would write this one down, how to sing about it with much more glamour than their messy transformations.
“Townsfolk will think I see myself a lark without realizing I’ve actually turned into one,” Jasker laughed, finding a particularly nice chord amongst his strumming. “And now there’s quite literally a white wolf with me.”
Geralt grunted, settling onto his side. In this state, Geralt was much more approachable and Jaskier couldn’t help himself, taking small steps towards Geralt.
He knew Geralt could hear him, but the wolf hadn’t snapped at him yet and Jaskier ran a hand down his side. Geralt glanced at him, but there was nothing else so Jaskier took it a step further. He buried his face into the soft fur, inhaling happily with the calmness it washed over him. That was, until Geralt got to his feet, leaving Jaskier with no balance and falling face forward into the ground.
“Geralt,” Jaskier sputtered, wiping the dirt off his face. “Honestly. As if you could resist temptation either.”
Using his back feet, Geralt kicked a little more dirt towards Jaskier before taking the other side of the fire and laying back down.
“Alright, alright. I’ll ask next time.”
There was a thump and Jaskier’s face lit up, noticing the slight twitch from Geralt.
“Are you wagging your tail?”
Grinning, Jaskier set back to his lute practicing, watching Geralt’s occasional movements. There wasn’t much difference to how they usually were, Geralt watching the fire while Jaskier worked on his music. If it wasn’t for the sight of a wolf across from him, Jaskier would think nothing of the situation.
“Gods above, I’m exhausted, but if I’m going to be a lark in the morning, I don’t want to sleep,” Jaskier sighed. “What bollocks is this, having to be a human only at night. If anything it should be you, Geralt.”
He could already hear Geralt’s hum of acknowledgement and watched as Geralt got up, padding over to Roach. Even in this wolf state, Roach seemed to know Geralt and let him brace his paws on her as he pulled the food satchel from out of the saddle bags. Instead of going back to his side of the fire, Geralt sat next to Jaskier, nudging the food towards him.
“Right,” Jaskier nodded, gently placing his lute in its case. “Meat for you?”
Jaskier teased just a little but he pulled out the dried meat for Geralt and himself, indulging on the small loaf of bread they still had left. Geralt was quick to finish his meal, thanks to his newfound sharper teeth before he went back over to Roach, grabbing a bedroll.
“I don’t have a choice, do I?” Jaskier yawned as he accepted the offering.
Laying it out on the ground, Jaskier laid on his side, watching the small flicker of the fire as his eyelids grew heavy. When white engulfed his view, Jaskier pursed his lips, wanting to throw his arm around the wolf in front of him. He didn’t realize he had let his concerns show that much, but he was grateful that Geralt was still there to comfort him even in this form.
With Geralt’s nod, Jaskier wrapped an arm around Geralt, snuggling into the thick fur. Geralt tensed up, just his usual amount, before he relaxed into the hold. Jaskier had never gone as far as this before, usually thankful enough that Geralt would even choose to sleep on the same side of the fire as him. As much as Geralt didn’t care about the world, he had a way of understanding unspoken things.
Each of Geralt’s breaths sent a wave of calm over Jaskier, his struggle to stay awake slowly slipping away as he fell into a dreamless sleep at last.