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Geralt didn’t know why Jaskier was here. All he’d done since leaving the village was complain about the cold. His brightly coloured doublets may have been made by the finest tailor in Novigrad, but they were hardly practical in the cold weather, the flimsy fabric letting the biting wind right through. He had at least brought his cloak with him, but it could only do so much when he was so woefully underdressed.
He had pointed out that Jaskier was welcome to head back to the tavern where he could warm up by the fire, but Jaskier had insisted he needed to join Geralt on this hunt. Something about working on a new song, but Geralt didn’t really care for his reasons. He largely ignored his constant chatter, though not completely. He made sure to keep a close eye on him to make sure he wasn’t falling behind and that he wasn’t about to succumb to hypothermia.
Geralt had accepted a contract for a forktail that had continued to take the villager’s sheep even as the cold weather closed it. Normally forktails would head further south where the temperatures weren’t quite so low. Geralt suspected it was only a juvenile if the descriptions of its size were to be trusted, which may explain the strange behaviour. He’d managed to pick up a trail from a few days ago at the outskirts of the village, clawed branches and the stench of death leading further into the forest.
They eventually came to a stop at the edge of a lake, frozen over from shore to shore. The trail ended abruptly with no sign of the forktail, though Geralt could guess where it had gone. Jaskier bumped into his back, apparently not looking where he was going. “Oops, sorry,” he said sheepishly.
“It crossed the lake,” he said, looking over the expanse of ice stretching out before them.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go,” he said, stepping onto the ice.
“Wait,” Geralt said, grabbing his arm to pull him back. “It might not be safe, let me go first.”
“Alright, fine. But if a forktail can cross the ice, I’m sure we can too.”
Jaskier may have had a point, but Geralt wasn’t willing to risk it. It had been a few days since the forktail had come through this way. The Ice could have melted since then. All it would take is one wrong move.
Hesitantly he stepped on to the ice, testing his weight. When there was no shift he took another step, putting his full weight on the frozen lake. Confident it would hold he turned to Jaskier. “Alright, come on. Slowly.”
They moved at a slow walk, Geralt diligently keeping an eye on the ice to check for weak points. He feared the ice might crack if they went any faster. Either that or Jaskier might slip, still too busy complaining to really watch where he was going. He had started shivering at this point, his teeth chattering despite his best efforts to supress it. Geralt was starting to get worried, but they’d faced worse conditions before. Jaskier was surprisingly tough, despite how much he loved to whine.
They were about half way across when there was a sudden crack. Geralt’s heart stopped. He turned around to see Jaskier frozen in place, arms stretched out as though he was ready to catch himself. Cracks radiated out from under his feet, threatening to give way and plunge him into the icy water below.
“Fuck,” Geralt hissed under his breath. He couldn’t risk getting closer to pull him to safety, his extra weight enough to send them both down.
“Geralt, what do I do?” he asked, unable to keep the fear from his voice.
“Get down on your front,” he said, trying to remain calm for both their sakes. “Don’t move too quickly.”
Jaskier did as he was instructed, ever so slowly crouching down. His shifting weight caused more cracks to spider out. Geralt’s heart was beating fast, almost that of a normal human, ready to spring into action. With each crack, Jaskier paused, hovering in place as he waited for the ice to settle. All Geralt could do was watch on in horror as the ice kept weakening.
Jaskier eventually tried to kneel, creating a new pressure point on the already weak ice. That was all it took. Jaskier fell, a startled cry escaping him as he disappeared with a splash. Geralt lunged forward, trying to catch him but he was too far away. He slid onto his front up to the edge, sticking his arm into the frigid water. His hand brushed against something and he grabbed it, holding on tight as he pulled. Jaskier’s head broke the surface first, taking in a gulp of air.
Geralt shifted so he could get both hands on Jaskier, holding him higher above the water. From this position he couldn’t pull him back on the ice, but he didn’t know if Jaskier could keep himself afloat for long enough while he switched position. His movements in the water were stiff and uncoordinated, the cold already causing his muscles to seize.
“Jask, can you stay afloat? I can’t get you out like this.”
Jaskier couldn’t speak but managed a jerky nod. He began kicking his legs, his arms working to keep his head above the water. Geralt released him gradually, unwilling to let him go just in case he began to sink. When it was clear Jaskier could keep himself from drowning for a moment, Geralt let him go. He quickly got to one knee, giving him the leverage needed to pull him out. He grabbed him under the arms and pulled, dragging him onto the lake’s surface.
“You’re alright,” Geralt sighed, overwhelming relief washing over him. He wasn’t out of danger yet however, soaked through and freezing as he was. “Come on, we’re going back.”
Jaskier tired to say something but couldn’t get the words out past his chattering teeth. Geralt dragged him a little further from the hole in the ice before attempting to haul him to his feet. It would be a little safer going back if Jaskier could bear his own weight but that was looking doubtful as he continued shaking uncontrollably.
Geralt took his cloak off, wrapping it over Jaskier’s shoulders and pulling the hood over his head. It was the best he could do for now, the priority being to get back to the village. Geralt slung Jaskier’s arm over his shoulders, supporting him with an arm around his waist. Jaskier could just about get his legs to work, though not without stumbling. Each time he did, Geralt’s heart leapt into his mouth, fearing the ice would open up and swallow them both.
After an excruciating ten minutes they finally made it back to the solid ground of the shore. Geralt wasted no time in bending down and picking Jaskier up, hooking his free arm under his knees and sliding his other up behind his back. Jaskier didn’t complain, barely seemed to register his change in position. “Stay with me Jaskier,” Geralt said as he hurried back through the trees.
Jaskier was barely lucid when they finally arrived back at the village. He’d stopped shivering and was frighteningly still, save for his shallow breathing. He didn’t know if there was a healer in the village and didn’t want to waste any time searching around for one. Instead, he took Jaskier straight back to their room at the small inn.
He stripped him down, throwing his sodden clothes in a pile on the floor. He chucked a few logs in the fireplace, lighting it with igni, instantly setting the wood ablaze. The next step was wrapping Jaskier in the blankets from the bed and laying him on the floor in front of the fire, getting him as close to the heat as possible.
Only then did Geralt start removing his own cold, damp clothes, dropping them on the floor to join Jaskier’s. The forktail would have to wait until tomorrow, though he doubted it would survive in this weather much longer anyway. He pulled a clean set of clothes out of his bag and put them on.
“Ge’lt?” Jaskier slurred, now shivering violently.
“I’m here, Jaskier,” he said, moving around to where he could see him.
“Cold,” he mumbled through chattering teeth.
“I know, but you’ll be warm soon.”
“Hurts.”
Geralt knelt down next to him, unwrapping the blankets before lying down behind him, covering them both. He pulled Jaskier against himself, hoping some of his body heat would help warm him up a little sooner. He ignored the fact that his skin felt like a block of ice. Jaskier relaxed into the embrace, leaning further against Geralt, pressing himself against him.
“’s nice,” he said after a while, still only half awake.
“Feeling any better?”
“A little.” Though he still shivered, it was nowhere near as violently as before.
“Good. You’ll warm up soon enough.”
“Should’ve stayed behind.”
“Hmm. Maybe you should listen to me when I say you don’t need to come along.”
“Not likely to happen,” he said with a small laugh, some of his humour returning.
“No, I suppose if that were to happen I would only be more concerned.”
Jaskier laughed again, pressing himself closer to Geralt. Geralt let him, wrapping his arms tighter around him. “You’ll be alright,” he mumbled into Jaskier’s hair.