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Jaskier’s chest felt heavy, the way it always did when he was on his bleeding, like a horse was standing on his chest. That heavy feeling always was accompanied by a sadness and tears that flowed to freely and easily. And while Jaskier knew that pain was his hormones and emotions the pain his stomach was all too real. The cramps felt like they would squeeze him until he burst. Luckily the herbs he took stemmed his bleeding for a couple of months but when they did come they were worse than ever and he was essentially crippled. He couldn’t move half as fast, he couldn’t hold his lute against his stomach, and he couldn’t function normally at all – to the point he kept a bag full of coin as savings for the days he would inevitably loose because of it, trapped in an inn’s bed, ordering food to his room, while feeling miserable, usually drifting in and out of an aching consciousness with a book to keep his mind company.
Which is why when his bleeding came for the first time when he was on the road with Geralt he was terrified. He didn’t want Geralt to know, he was sure that Geralt wouldn’t keep him around, if he let him live at all. Geralt killed things that were different and he was sure that the sentiment that Geralt definitely did not hold towards him would not hesitate his extinguishing action. They had been travelling for about 3 months at this point and while Jaskier definitely felt fondly towards Geralt he knew it wasn’t a shared feeling – and normally he was fine with that but right now that lack of fondness on Geralt’s side concerned him, knowing that Geralt could act without hesitation or regret. He knew he was going to have hide it from him at all costs, he had no idea how he would do it, but he knew it had to be done if he wanted Geralt to leave him unharmed and let him continue travelling with him.
He slept restlessly throughout the night, he always did while he was bleeding, but he was sure that anxiety for the following day was making his sleeping pattern worse. He would be ridiculously tired the next day but that was the least of his worries. Jaskier watched the sky brighten to day from night in snapshots of consciousness before he finally woke up for good as the sun had barely kissed the horizon. He woke up before Geralt, which meant he was up way too early. He decided to stand, and the second he did he felt his head swim from the lack of sleep and blood loss, and he felt all the blood that had almost settled in his stomach rush down. He grabbed his bag and quickly dashed into the woods and relieved himself, all the while biting his lip at the discomfort, feeling dysphoria press on his chest, heat rise up his cheeks, and tears prick at his eyes which he blinked back with frustration. After he had finished he headed back to their camp site and Geralt was still asleep so he lay down close by the fire, hoping the heat would help ease his stomach.
Too soon Geralt woke and Jaskier felt his anxiety become palpable. His heart thumped loudly in his ears, his hands got sweaty and his tongue started tingling, which it always did when he was nervous. He was downright terrified and decided to just lie by the fire and try and steady his breathing and wait for the anxiety to subside while Geralt got ready – it would do him no good to display his anxiety so plainly.
He listened to the shuffles and grunts as Geralt readied himself before he heard Roach’s pleased sounds as Geralt loved on him a little. Normally, when Geralt did anything sweet while he thought others wouldn’t notice, Jaskier always smiled to himself but right now even that wasn’t enough to get him to smile. He was sure nothing would while he had this toxic mix of cramps, anxiety and fear of Geralt and the consequences of the unfortunate circumstance of his hormones swirling around his person.
Jaskier knew what was coming but he still couldn’t supress his flinch when it did happen.
“Jaskier.” Geralt’s grunt sounded across the campsite, the same monosyllabic sound greeted Jaskier from sleep every morning.
“I’m awake.” He responded, in a voice that was all too small, but he stayed in the same position – knowing the pain and dizziness that would accompany him standing upright. He knew he would have to move eventually but he wanted to hold onto this as long as he was allowed.
“Get up then.” Jaskier let out a trembling breath before putting both hands under himself and pushed himself up with trembling arms. He got to his feet and the second he did he could feel himself swaying and he was sure his face looked ashen. He knew that his anxiety was heightening the problems of his bleeding which in turn was heightening his anxiety – starting the fierce circle that left him a trembling, light headed, aching and tender mess – praying that somehow Geralt wouldn’t notice with his witcher senses. His vision finally swam back to him at the same time the pressure left his ears and he was finally allowed to see, and the witcher stood in his view.
Geralt was staring at him, his eyes narrowed slightly. He could see the witcher’s cogs whirring behind his eyes.
“Come here.” He grunted. Jaskier felt a bolt of electric fear travel along his spine and he mutely shook his head, his mouth falling slightly agape. “Jaskier. Come here.” This time Geralt’s grumbling was accompanied by a gloved hand beckoning him to move towards him.
“Oh no no.” Jaskier tried to say in a light voice but he knew his voice was strained and tighter than normal. “No thank you, my dear witcher,” he tried to keep his usual suave tone as much as possible despite his pain and fear, “the last time I agreed to that request I was gifted a punch to the gut. An experience I don’t wish to relive any time soon.” He let out a fake chuckle as a shiver encapsulated his body at the idea of Geralt punching his stomach while he was bleeding.
“Hmmm.” Geralt responded, making Jaskier want to roll his eyes – but he refrained not wanting to anger him, he knew he couldn’t handle himself right now and wanted to keep any potential negativity at bay. Surprisingly, Geralt dropped the matter and turned to continue getting Roach ready.
After about half an hour, which was longer than it normally took, Geralt called on Jaskier again, who had sat on a tree stump in the meantime, telling him it was time to start moving. Jaskier tried to suppress a shiver, which he wasn’t completely successful at, before he started walking behind Roach and Geralt. He had asked Geralt if he could put his lute on Roach and surprisingly Geralt had allowed him to do so, so at least he wasn’t encumbered by the weight of his lute, but that didn’t make his journey much easier.
His stomach rolled and his thighs ached but the worst part was definitely the lightheadness and the black spots that filled his eyes. He was so tired it felt like his sore eyes were moving at half speed. He trailed further behind Roach than usual but he couldn’t do any better. He could hardly spend any energy on chattered as he usually did. Geralt’s low tone sliced the silence unexpectedly.
“You’re quiet today bard.” Jaskier was surprised. Geralt rarely made necessary statements, let alone unnecessary observations. He also was surprised Geralt had commented at all given he was sure Geralt preferred him quiet.
“Yes well. The voice often fails while the mind is… creating greatness.” Jaskier almost choked on the obvious bullshit that he was spewing out of his mouth and Jaskier knew that Geralt knew it was bullshit as well. Geralt chose not to dignify his bullshit with a response and honestly he couldn’t blame him and they fell into an uncomfortable silence, stressing Jaskier out more than before. Jaskier had never been good with silences. Before it was at least a comfortable silence where he was focusing only on moving one foot in front of another but now he was stressed. Silences never worked for him anyway – negative thoughts burrowing their way into his brain and killing his esteem – but that was now accompanied by his worry that Geralt was angry at him.
Everything felt like a dull ache, his mind, his feet, his legs, the pressure on his chest – all excluding his stomach which felt like it was on fire – and all he could do was keep moving one throbbing foot in front of another. They continued on in silence but it wasn’t much longer before Jaskier knew his body had taken a turn for the worse and gave into his despised nature. His stomach rolled fiercely a few times, cramping worse than normal, before he felt a burning in his throat. He turned to the side and bent at the waist – a dizzy spell hitting him and sending him to his knees, only barely managing to catch himself with his hands slamming painfully onto the pebbles, before he vomited violently between his stinging hands.
He threw up for a few moment before he coughed, sending a river of pain to his stomach and prompting a dribble of bile to leak from his lips. His ears rang so he didn’t hear the crunch of gravel under Geralt’s feet as he walked over to his crouched form. He felt a hand rub his back as he continued to dry heave, making his stomach tense and cramp and feel truly, truly awful. He couldn’t hold out much longer before he placed a hand on his stomach to try and stem the possessing pain emanating from it, but unfortunately the shift of weight combined with his dizziness made him start to fall forward – inevitably face first into his own sick.
Luckily, Geralt was there to save him from that particular painful shame as he caught Jaskier by the shoulder before pulling him into an upright kneeling position, sending Jaskier’s head rolling.
“Sorry.” He spluttered out weakly, feeling disgusting with the film of bile covering the inside of his mouth and he knew he looked a state with sick covering his lips and chin. “I’m sorry.” He sounded pathetic as he dry sobbed his apology.
“It’s okay.” Geralt said as he put his hands under Jaskier’s arms and pulled him to his feet before almost completely carrying him to a log near where they were and sitting Jaskier down on it. Geralt crouched in front of him as Jaskier dropped his head in shame. Geralt took him by surprise when he gently grabbed his chin and lifted his face up slightly before softly wiping his chin and mouth clean with his hand, and then wiping his hand on his own trousers.
“S-Sorry.” Jaskier said again, feeling shivers wrack his body from fear, hurt, over exertion and the sudden cold that had possessed him.
“Let’s stay here.” Geralt spoke softly but Jaskier panicked.
“Please don’t leave me. I’m only a little ill, I’ll be better in a few days I promise. We can keep going I’m okay. I’m sorry I’m a little slower than normal. I can do better.” He said in a hurry – and he knew his words weren’t true but he’d be damned if he just let Geralt leave him without any objection.
“I’m not leaving you we’ll both stay. We’re not going to get anywhere substantial with you like this.” Geralt said finally heading back over to Roach. While Jaskier knew he couldn’t expect Geralt to mother him and look after him he wanted nothing more right now than for someone to care for him. But he guessed he was a big boy now and would have to deal with the pain on his own. So he stayed on the log with a disgusting taste in his mouth, his arms wrapped protectively and tightly around his midsection, while feeling completely and utterly sorry for himself.
Surprisingly, Geralt appeared in front of him once again this time with a flask in his hand.
“Wash your mouth out and then have a long drink. You’ll be dehydrated otherwise.” Jaskier removed one arm from his stomach and took the flask gratefully in a trembling hand while he complied with Geralt’s order under his watchful gaze. After he was finished Geralt took back the flask and screwed the lid on before fixing Jaskier with a piercing gaze that was enough to make him flinch.
“Now, don’t piss about I can’t be arsed with it.” Geralt somehow managed to speak with a tender severity that only he seemed to be able to master, but the tone did make Jaskier cringe. He was scared and he was pretty sure Geralt could tell. “What’s wrong with you?” The question was crass and straight to the point and Jaskier didn’t have a clue how he would charm his way out of this one – leaving him opening and closing his mouth like a thrashing fish on land. Geralt rolled his eyes before continuing, obviously done waiting for him to answer.
“Where are you bleeding?” His eyes flitted over Jaskier, and Jaskier realised that this wasn’t the first time Geralt’s eyes had done that today.
“What?” He asked his voice small as he leant away from the witcher. “
“Jaskier, for fuck’s sake where are you bleeding?”
“Geralt, I-“
“I can smell it on you. Don’t bother trying to lie to me. You’ve reeked of blood and anxiety and fear all day. Now tell me where so I can fix it.”
“I… I can’t say.” He said, dropping his head. He knew witchers had heightened senses but he didn’t bloody well know they could smell blood and emotions. He would give any amount of coin to be anywhere else right now. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about it, I’m fine.” He knew it wouldn’t work the moment the weak excuse had left his lips.
“Are you going to tell me or do I have to fucking strip you myself and find the bleeding.” The notion of Geralt stripping him only to find his bound chest and bleeding had him physically recoiling away from him, his heart beating a hole in his ribs.
“Don’t.” He whispered shakily. A look passed over his Geralt’s face akin to a cringe.
“You’re scared of me.” He said definitely, making Jaskier panic more. He didn’t know where this was going , he didn’t know what Geralt could and couldn’t sense from him, he didn’t know how he was getting out of this unscathed. “Why?”
“I… I…” He stammered out before his voice was stolen by a sob and before he knew it he was hyperventilating severely. His vision was swimming while his chest felt like it was going to burst and for a second he did think he was going to suffocate as his chest started to burn. A heavy but gentle hand fell onto his shoulder and squeezed in a comforting way before Geralt took his wrist and splayed Jaskier’s hand over his own armour clad chest.
“Breathe with me.” Geralt started taking exaggerated slow breaths and after a while Jaskeir copied and he could see the witcher’s face again. Despite his crying he could see the witcher’s features creased in a specific way – Geralt was worried but was trying not to show it.
“Jaskier,” he sighed when he saw Jaskier come back to him, “let me help.” His voice stressed the last word, in an almost desperate way.
“I can’t… you’ll hate me… or… or leave me or kill me…” He trailed off in horror as something new washed over him. It wasn’t a secret to anyone that Jaskier had a lot of sex but often times he found out that men felt that he was exotic and a few times men had wanted him so bad because of his, let’s say ‘quirk’… “or rape…” his voice was nothing but a hollow whisper. He felt Geralt growl more than he heard it.
“I understand.” Geralt’s voice was venomous and slick with pure anger, he took his hand off his shoulder, and Jaskier knew he had messed up. “Because I’m the ruthless, inhuman witcher who prays on the weak, right? You know if you’re so scared of me I don’t know why you bother to follow me around anyway.” His voice was harsh, and maybe slightly hurt. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut, making more tears stream down his cheeks, another small sob escaping his lips.
“This is why I didn’t want to say anything!” He almost shouted. “It’s not you being a witcher, you idiot,” he let out another sob, “when anyone finds out that’s the reaction!” He doubled over and squeezed his stomach, crying hard as cramps wracked his entire emotion ridden, trembling frame.
“Jaskier…” The hardness in Geralt’s voice had melted and it was replaced with the previous soft concern. “Let me help you. I won’t hurt you I promise.”
“You’ll make me go away.” He sobbed out, squeezing into the smallest ball he could possibly make himself. He saw Geralt’s hand reach towards him, and he flinched away. Geralt’s hand halted for a moment before it continued to reach forward, taking Jaskier’s chin gently for the second time and lifted his tear stained face. Jaskier kept his eyes locked on his own trembling hands that rested in his lap.
“Look at me.” He hesitated a moment before he let his eyes meet Geralt’s gaze. “I won’t hurt you, Jaskier.” Sincerity dripped from his voice, and Jaskier could feel his heart slamming against his ribs. He took a trembling breath and he knew he had to take a chance and hope, hope to anything good, that Geralt would keep his word.
“I… I’m not injured.”
“Jaskier please-“ Geralt started but stopped when Jaskier held a quivering hand up.
“I’m on my blood.” He whispered, and unsurprisingly confusion passed over Geralt’s face. “I was born in a female form but I… I feel like a man. I’ve lived as a man for years but… but some things I can’t make go away.” He let out a sob, cringing away from Geralt slightly, but the shift hurting his stomach. Something akin to understanding crossed Geralt’s face.
“Are you in pain from your stomach because of it?” Geralt asked a crease forming between his eyes as he frowned at Jaskier’s midsection. He just nodded mutely. “Do you want some numbing tea?” Jaskier felt shock encompass his entire person, he hadn’t been expecting this, and all he could bring himself to do was mutely nod.
Geralt stood up and walked back to Roach, and Jaskier decided to scrunch his knees up to his tender chest and hug himself in a tight ball, his crying slowing down before he found his eyes drifting shut and he nodded off into an aching sleep.
He woke up to Geralt carefully shaking his shoulder. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and for a blissful moment he was free of cramps and he frowned in confusion, before the cramps came rushing back to him all too quickly. He groaned a little and looked at Geralt and it all came rushing back to him.
“Shit.” He mumbled, wiping his face with a shaking hand, though his trembling had subsided a little.
“Indeed.” Geralt smirked a little, “here you go.” A cup appeared in front of his eyes, steam gently curling above the rim. Jaskier took the cup in two hands to make sure he didn’t drop it everywhere and started sipping it slowly. Jaskier realised, as the warm broth warmed him from the inside, that Geralt had put cool water from the stream into the cup so he could drink it straight away. The kind detail puzzled him but he was grateful as the cramps subsided and he could eventually straighten up enough to look Geralt in the eye.
“Thank you so much.” Gratitude dripped from his words.
“It’s only tea.” Geralt grumbled in response as he sat on the floor in front of him. He massively disagreed, it was so much more than tea but he didn’t want to draw attention to Geralt’s kindness and risk embarrassing him while he was already on his bad side.
“So, uh…” he coughed awkwardly, “what happens now?” He asked nervously placing the cup on the floor and biting his lip, a terrible nervous tick that he had.
“We’ll stay here until you’re feeling better.” Jaskier was relieved that he would be allowed to rest and Geralt wouldn’t leave him quite yet, but that didn’t answer the ultimate question.
“And what happens after that?” His voice trembled slightly, worried of the inevitable answer. He needed Geralt to explain what was going to happen but that didn’t mean he would enjoy hearing the answer. But Jaskier heard nothing as Geralt just furrowed his brow in a frown at his question.
“Does something happen after your… after it finishes?” Geralt cocked his head to the side.
“No…” Jaskier responded, a frown now settling on his forehead, before he realised that Geralt must have misinterpreted the question. “I… uh… just meant what happens with us after I feel better? Can I… at least walk to the next town with you?” His voice became more and more squeaky the closer he got to the end of the sentence. Geralt had shown him enough kindness since discovering his secret that he was fairly certain that Geralt wouldn’t kill him or physically hurt him but he was pretty sure that Geralt wouldn’t entertain his company much longer.
“Oh… do you not wish to travel with me any longer?” Geralt’s gruff voice sounded tense and confused, as a look akin to distress marred his features. “Did I do something wrong?” He sounded downright sad asking the last question, making Jaskier jump to reassure him.
“No! You haven’t done anything wrong at all!” He moved his hand protectively over his stomach as it gave another twinge but he pushed through, “You’ve been more than wonderful! You’ve been the kindest anyone has been after they found out in fact…” He let out a pained laugh and the truthfulness of that. Geralt frowned slightly, making Jaskier recoil a little at the anger that was rolling off Geralt in waves. “Sorry… I don’t mean to upset you.”
“You haven’t upset me. People who have treated you badly upset me.”
“Oh.” He was shocked. “But you’re not upset that I deceived you?” His voice was small.
“No… I understand why you did.” There was a slight pause, “I regret that you feel you have to though.” There was a slightly longer pause and Jaskier stopped his own words tumbling out of his mouth as he saw Geralt trying to phrase what he wanted to say in his own head before he spoke aloud. Finally he uttered;
“Though, I’m sorry I’ve clearly given the impression that I mean you serious harm. If you don’t feel safe around me and no longer with to be my travelling companion… I regretfully understand. But it’s important that you know I would never do any of those things to you.”
At his words Jaskier found his face burning with shame at the notion that he once looked upon the witcher with such fear. Although he couldn’t blame himself, because he knew he had been scarred by past experience, he should have given Geralt the benefit of the dount and assumed that he wouldn’t hurt him.
“I know!” He practically yelled, wanted to fix his previous miscalculations, “I know you wouldn’t, well I know now! I feel safe around you Geralt.” He spoke sincerely, and he meant it. “It’s just that past experience… favour doesn’t tend to shine kindly on the freaks of nature… especially from fellow human beings.” He gave a resigned shrug. “I would love to continue travelling with you… if you would let me that is…” Although he didn’t phrase it like a question, it hung heavy in the air.
“I would like it if you continued travelling with me, Jaskier.” Geralt reached out and took his hand, he didn’t flinch away – a fact that was not missed by Geralt. They both felt an immense weight lifted off their chests as they announced clearly their enjoyment of one another’s company. Even if it was in their own unique, and slightly odd, way.
“Though, Geralt, my bleeding will happen about ever three months or so… and I may slow us down during those times.” He was a little anxious of reminding the witcher of his continued and everlasting burden, but it wouldn’t be fair not to mention it now.
“I know.” Geralt’s voice was light, not annoyed or irritated at the prospect, “I guess we’ll have to stock up on herbs for tea then.”
And Jaskier realised that maybe this would be the first time in his life that his gender ailment wasn’t a sentence to a subpar life. That Geralt still liked him despite… no, not despite, but with his body being different to who he truly was. He knew he could finally be happy.