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It had been a little over two weeks since they left Yennefer's home when they came across the town. Though as Jaskier found out on their journey, it wasn’t technically hers as she’d only been living there while the real owners were away, hence why they had to leave in the first place. They had already passed through a number of smaller villages but this was the first place of any notable size. Hopefully big enough for an inn. Jaksier was looking forward to eating a real meal, and not something pulled from their supplies.
They first made their way through the market, replenishing their supplies ahead of time so they wouldn't have to wait around tomorrow before leaving. Once that task was complete, they found their way to the tavern, hoping there would be a room spare. Two beds would be ideal, but in a pinch they could make do with just the one, Jaskier fully accepting the fact he would be made to sleep on the floor. He wouldn’t argue with Yen if that’s what she wanted, not after everything she’d done for him.
Jaskier felt slightly out of place as Yen went to the counter to speak with the man there, likely the owner of the establishment. Whenever he’d travelled with Geralt, he was always the one to do the talking, trying to haggle for a lower price in exchange for entertainment. It worked more often than not. Now he had nothing to barter with. His lute may be fixed but he was in no condition to be performing for hours on end. Beside, Yen's intimidating presence alone ensured they wouldn't be cheated out of their coin.
“We’ve only got the one room available,” the man said, glancing between the two of them, looking at least somewhat apologetic.
“That’s fine,” Yennefer said, sliding some silver coins across the counter. The man took them, counting the amount. He handed over a key before heading back into the steadily growing crowd.
“Give me your things,” she said to Jaskier. “I’ll take them upstairs while you get us a table and some food.” Jaskier handed her his bag and lute, trusting Yennefer would be careful with it.
The tavern itself was busy, most of the tables already occupied while chatter filled the air. It was likely to only become more crowded now that the sun had set and people were coming inside to look for a fun way to end their day. Jaskier made his way toward the back, hoping to find a table there where the crowds were a little thinner. Sure enough, he found a place to sit, and after grabbing the attention of a barmaid, he ordered food and drink for himself and Yen. After that, the only thing left to do was wait.
He idly traced the grain of the table with his finger when he heard a voice, raised above the general noise of the room. “Hey you there!” a man said from somewhere. Jaskier looked up from the table, wondering who the man could be. A large man sitting at a table nearby was looking straight at Jaskier, an unpleasant expression on his face, something between anger and disgust.
Jaskier looked away almost immediately, stupidly hoping he hadn’t been caught. “I know you heard me,” the man said again. From the corner of his eye, Jaskier saw him get up, stalking his way over to Jaskier’s table.
“It’s no use ignoring me, bard.” He grabbed the back of Jaskier's chair, leaning into his space and preventing him from escaping.
Whoever this man was clearly knew him. Now he just needed to get him to go away. “Who, me? I-I’m not a bard I’m afraid. You must have me confused with someone else.”
The man grinned, an ugly thing showing off his yellow teeth. “I know exactly who you are. You’re the one who sings about that filthy mutant.” His breath stank of ale, making Jaksier's stomach turn.
Normally Jaskier would jump to Geralt’s defence, even after the mountain incident, willing to go as far as physically fighting to defend the witcher. But he was still recovering from his illness and injuries and knew he stood no chance. So he played dumb instead.
“I really don’t know who you mean. I work for a powerful mage, Yennefer of Vengerburg. Perhaps you’ve heard of her?”
The man’s face twisted into a snarl. He reached out and grabbed a fistful of Jaskier’s doublet, pulling him out of his seat before dragging him out the back door. A few people stopped their conversations to watch but no one came to his aid, sealing his fate.
“Wait, wait, hold on a minute–” he tried to say, a last-ditch attempt to reason with the man as the door swung closed with a thud. He was cut off when the man slammed him into the wall, his head colliding with it, making his vision swim.
“Now you listen to me. You’re gonna tell me where me and my pals can find your precious witcher, and then we’re gonna teach him a lesson. So where is he?”
“I don’t know.” The man pressed his arm against Jaskier’s throat, applying just enough pressure to make it difficult to breath “I don’t- I don’t know!” Jaskier choked, desperate to make the man see some sense. He clawed at the man’s arm, trying to pry him off his neck but he didn't budge. “I swear, I haven’t seen him in months. I don’t know.”
The man held him there for a moment longer, trying to determine whether Jaskier was lying or not. He eventually released his hold on Jaskier’s throat, but he wasn’t done with him. “If you can’t tell me where the witcher is," he said, practically snarling, “I guess I’ll teach you a lesson about singing about them.”
Jaskier didn’t get a chance to block the fist that collided with his face. The world tilted as pain erupted across his face. He stumbled, trying to regain his balance but was met with another fist to his gut, knocking the air out of him. He fell to his knees, trying to gasp in a breath. A boot to his side knocked him on the ground. From there all he could do was curl into a ball to protect himself. He shielded his head with his arms, bringing his knees in to protect his middle. It didn't help much.
Eventually the man ceased his attack, likely growing bored with the lack of resistance. He spat on the ground right by Jaskier’s head before walking away. Jaskier tentatively uncurled from his defensive position, waiting to see if any more attacks were coming before trying to get up.
The man had headed out toward the town rather than going back inside which was good news for Jaskier. Unless the man was going to get some of those “pals” he’d mentioned. Either way, the safest place to be was inside. The only problem with that was that Jaskier was still outside.
Gradually he got himself into a sitting position in the dirt. It took a lot of convincing himself to try to stand, leaning heavily against the wall for support. Just then the back door flew open, causing Jaskier to flinch and almost lose his balance.
“Jaskier!” Yennefer said, her eyes wild. She stood there, looking at him covered in dirt and blood. “Who did this to you?” she asked, steel in her voice. “I’ll kill them for hurting you.”
“I-I don’t know who he was. He was asking about Geralt. Apparently he’s not the biggest fan of witchers.”
“Yeah, well neither am I,” she muttered under her breath. “Come on. Let’s get you to the room and we can get you cleaned up.”
She looped one arm around his waist, allowing him to lean against her. They unfortunately had to walk through the crowded tavern to get to the stairs. People stopped their conversations as they passed to stare at him. Jaskier wanted the floor to open up and swallow him.
“Is he alright?” the tavernkeeper asked as they passed him, visibly concerned.
“He’ll be fine,” Yen said. “I believe he ordered food. Have it brought up to our room.”
“Of course. Is, uh, do you need anything else?”
“Did you see the man who did this to him?”
“No, but I can ask around.”
Yennefer only gave him a curt not before ushering Jaskier up the stairs. They were too narrow to walk up side by side but Jaskier felt steady enough to make it by himself. Yennefer lead him to their room, opening the door before directing him to sit on the bed.
The room itself was small, the only furniture being the single bed and a rickety looking table. Their belongings were piled up neatly at the foot of the bed which was where Yennefer was now rummaging through her bag for something.
Yennefer eventually found what she was looking for, a jar of what looked like greenish slime. “What’s that?” he asked.
“Salve. It should help speed up healing.” She placed it on the table. “Let me check your face first though.”
Jaskier sat still as Yennefer gently pressed around the area where he’d been punched, likely checking for any serious damage. “You’re eye might swell up a bit and you’re going to have a black eye for a while, but I don’t think that bastard broke anything. How do you feel? Anywhere particularly sore?”
“Not really. Just achy all over.”
“That’s something I suppose.”
There was a knock at the door. Yennefer went over to answer it.
“I brought your food.” the innkeeper said.
“Thank you,” Yennefer said, opening the door wider before taking the bowls from him. She placed them on the table, careful of the jar of salve.
“How about you lad? Not too battered?” he asked Jaskier.
“I’ll live.”
“I don’t suppose you found out who it was that did this to him?” Yennefer asked.
“He’s not local but someone said they saw him staying at the other inn across town.”
“Thank you.”
With that the man left, leaving the two of them alone once more.
“What does it matter who he was?” Jaskier asked.
“If you think I’m just going to let him get away with what he did to you, you’re sorely mistaken.”
“Is it worth it though?”
Yennefer didn’t answer that, moving from the door back over to the table. “Take your shirt off,” she said. Jaskier did as he was told without complaint, wincing as his body protested against the movement. Red marks littered his arms, chest and stomach where he’d been hit. He assumed the rest of his body was in a similar state. His skin would turn an ugly shade of purple as the bruises developed over the next few hours. Thankfully he didn’t see any cuts, those were always annoying to heal.
She started by pressing gently over his ribs, checking for any broken bones. Satisfied everything was where it should be, she opened the jar and scooped some of the salve onto her fingers before massaging it into his skin, starting with his arm. It had a pungent herbal smell and felt slightly tingly, but it wasn’t unpleasant.
“It should help dull the pain a little,” she said as she worked. As she moved up his arm and onto his chest and back, he sat in comfortable silence. He couldn’t help but think of the times when he’d been injured around Geralt, the witcher usually patching him up in an inn room not too dissimilar to this one. He would tend to his wounds but did so in an efficient manner that left little room for reassurance. It was all about efficiency with him, care was secondary.
Jaskier couldn’t say he was exactly surprised. After all, it was what Geralt was used to. He’d always had to patch himself up, maybe another witcher to help him if he was lucky. But he’d never received true care, not until Jaskier showed him what that felt like.
Jaskier suddenly felt a lump form in his throat. He swallowed, hoping to make it go away. Yennefer noticed but mistook the action for pain. “Sorry, I’m trying to be gentle,” she said.
“No, it’s not that.”
“Want to talk about it?”
They had talked about Geralt while on the road before now, but neither had quite gotten into the more personal side of their relationships with the witcher. Maybe with time they would get there, but not yet, not today at least. “Not really,” he mumbled. Yennefer only hummed in response, and wasn’t that just such a Geralt thing to do.
A few minutes later, Jaskier was thoroughly covered in the salve. He felt like he’d been covered in grease, but Yennefer assured him his skin would absorb it quickly. “Time to eat, I think,” she said, wiping her hands clean on her dress before passing him one of the bowls.
It was only a simple meal, some kind of stew with fresh bread, but it had been a few days since they’d had anything fresh so this was excellent by Jaskier's standards. They ate in comfortable silence before Yennefer took the empty bowls back downstairs. While she was gone, Jaskier put on his sleep shirt and began unrolling his bedroll. Yennefer would probably want the bed, and since she had paid for the room he wasn’t going to argue with her about it.
“What are you doing?” she asked when she returned.
“There’s only one bed,” he said.
“So?”
“So I’m assuming you want the bed?”
“Moron.”
“What?”
“We can share. Unless you don’t want to?”
“Erm,” he said dumbly. He hadn’t expected this. It wasn’t that he was against sharing, gods knew he and Geralt would share a bed more often than not. He just hadn’t expected the offer from Yennefer.
He realised then she was still looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do you want to sleep on the floor?”
“No, not really.”
“There we are then. Put that away,” she said, gesturing to his partially unrolled bedroll.
He did as he was told, trying to ignore the ache of his sore body as he moved about. While he was busy, Yennefer changed out of her dress into something more suited for sleep.
Lying down together was awkward at first. Jaskier lay on his side facing the wall, Yennefer mirrored him behind, facing out to the room. The bed really wasn’t designed for two people, one false move could send someone toppling onto the floor. It was uncomfortable, Jaskier almost afraid of doing something wrong. Though what he could do, he wasn’t quite sure. He and Yennefer may get on well now, might even consider each other friends, but at the end of the day, he was still a little terrified of her.
“Relax bard,” she said in the darkness.
“Right, sorry.” He tried to relax, closing his eyes and willing himself to fall asleep. Except that didn’t happen and the more he tried, the more awake he felt. He wanted to fidget, to find a more comfortable position, but he dared not move. He resigned himself to another sleepless night.
“Jaskier,” Yennefer said, making him jump. He’d thought she had fallen asleep.
“I’m trying, alright.”
“This isn’t working, is it?”
“I’ll sleep on the floor. It’s fine.” He shuffled around enough to sit up, fully expecting Yen to get up to allow him to stand. Instead she turned to face him.
“Let’s just try something else first.”
“Like what?”
“Lie down, on your back.”
Hesitantly, Jaskier did as he was told, making sure to leave as much room for Yen as possible. He needn’t have bothered because as soon as he lay down, Yennefer lay down right next to him, practically on top of him really, resting her head on his chest. Tentatively he wrapped his arm around her, unsure if the gesture would be welcome or not. When she didn’t object, he allowed himself to relax.
He had to admit, it was more comfortable than before, though rather daunting. They’d never been this physically close before so this was uncharted territory, and Jaskier was scared of getting it wrong.
“You better go to sleep now bard because I don’t really want to get up again,” Yennefer mumbled tiredly.
This time when Jaskier closed his eyes, he felt the familiar pull of sleep.
Jaskier woke up alone. That was odd, but not entirely unexpected. While they had been travelling, Yennefer wasn’t exactly one for staying in bed. What was unusual was that she hadn’t stayed in the room.
Simply getting up and moving was a greater task than it should have been. He felt stiff and his whole body ached. Even the seemingly simple task of sitting up had become difficult. He slowly got himself standing and set to the task of getting dressed. He pulled out the first thing he found from his bag and chucked it on the bed. Once he'd found the matching trousers and a chemise to go with it, he mentally prepared himself to actually get dressed. Already all he wanted to do was lie back down and go to bed.
He carefully pulled his shirt over his head, wincing as his sore muscles protested. As he had suspected last night, his skin was now littered with dark bruises. Some were bigger than others, the rounded shape of a fist here, a nebulous splotch of purple there. Overall, he looked like he felt.
After finally getting dressed, he ventured downstairs, wondering if Yennefer had gone to get breakfast. The tavern was almost empty, only a handful of people scattered about the tables. Yennefer wasn’t one of them.
“Excuse me,” he said to the innkeeper, “I don’t suppose you happen to know where my friend might be?”
“The witch? Aye, she left about an hour ago. Didn’t say where she was going though.”
“Ah, thank you.” He turned to head back up stairs but apparently the man had more to say.
“One more thing. She paid for your breakfast before she left. I can bring it up to your room?”
“Oh, erm, thanks. I’ll have it down here.”
Jaskier took a seat, this time against a wall nearer the front. Everyone else seemed disinterested in Jaskier but he couldn’t help but feel exposed. At least sitting with the wall to his back, he could watch for anyone who might approach him.
The front door opened a few minutes later. Jaskier only just managed to supress a flinch. He must be more on edge than he thought if it only took a door to make him jump. Yennefer stepped though, glancing around before spotting Jaskier and making her way over.
“Finally up then,” she said, taking the seat opposite him.
“Where were you?” he asked instead of replying.
“I had some unfinished business.”
“You found the guy who attacked me, didn’t you.”
“You could say that,” she said casually.
“What did you do?”
She smirked but revealed nothing. “Have you eaten yet?” she asked, trying to change the subject.
“No. But I was told you already paid for my breakfast,” he said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
“Hmm, well you might want to eat quickly. I’m not sure how long it’ll take for him to come after us.”
“Yennefer. What did you do?”
“Don’t worry, we should have at least an hour to get our things together and leave.”
“Yen.”
The corners of her mouth twitched ever so slightly, as though she was trying very hard not to smile. “I may have cursed him," she shrugged. "He’s currently unconscious and will remain so for a good while yet, so don’t worry about it.”
Jaskier got the distinct feeling prying any more details from her would prove futile. Still, he found the fact that Yennefer had gone out of her way to get revenge on the man oddly comforting. Jaskier was almost tempted to try to find the man on his own just to know what happened, but it was probably better if they left as soon as possible to avoid a round two. He wasn’t sure he could take another beating like last night.
His breakfast eventually arrived, and while he ate, Yennefer went back upstairs to pack their things. When she returned, carrying there things, the placed a small bottle on the table in front of him.
"What's this?" he asked, staring at the orange tinted liquid inside.
"Painkiller. Drink up."
Jaskier reluctantly did as he was told, downing it in one. It burnt his throat and left an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth but within minutes he found his pain abating. It was still present, but it was manageable.
"Ready to go?"
"I guess." He stood, picking up his bag and lute, securing the strap over his shoulder. "Where are we going now?"
"I don't know. East?"
"Sure," he said, smiling. "East it is."