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He didn’t mean to stumble over a body. He very much, in fact, hated dead things. Jaskier was just a bit lost and that was all. He was traveling to meet Geralt at the end of the mountain he hibernated at. Jaskier was making great time, seeing as there was still snow on the ground, but did anyone care? No.
He stared at the body in horror before realizing that the body was not, in fact, dead. The chest lifted up, went down, then lifted back up. The person was alive and not as dead as Jaskier once thought. Feeling like he was too used to helping people, Jaskier fell to his knees to figure out why the man was passed out in the snow.
Jaskier determined the witcher was either recovering from blood loss or was cursed to not wake up. He thought the first option was more likely, so he searched for anything the witcher had on him. What Jaskier found was a medallion of a snake, a broken plate of armor, and way too many sharp things. Jaskier had never seen so many blades on a person before– some of them probably had different, weird names that were meant for inflicting specific injuries. He did not, however, find any potions.
Jaskier contemplated his choices. He could try to find the nearest town alone, as he could not carry a man of the witcher’s size. He could also just continue on like nothing happened. That wasn’t exactly what his heart wanted, though. He ended up searching for a clearing. He found a small spot that didn’t have much snow piled along. He rolled some logs over to create a wind barrier to get a fire going.
Once the fire was crackling, he took out his bedroll. It was a nice one compared to his first bedroll. He left his belongings hidden in the thick forest as he retreated to find the unconscious witcher. Jaskier took the witcher by the arms and pulled. The snow and him almost slipping repeatedly did not help one bit. By the time he got the witcher on the bedroll, Jaskier was exhausted and much too cold.
He tended and fed the fire as the day went on. He wanted to take out his lute but worried about waking the witcher. Jaskier had decided to sit and hum as the fire kept him warm. He was bundled up in his thick cloak and sat on a round stump that was a bit damp but not horrible. The light of the day faded, and with it, Jaskier began to doze.
At first, he thought he woke from the cold. That was determined unlikely as the fire was roaring big and bright beside him. Instead, Jaskier looked down to his throat to find that a knife was touching it. He let out a small, frail sound before looking up. The witcher had woken.
“Who are you?” demanded the witcher.
“A humble bard!”
The witcher stared him down. “Who do you work for?”
“Oh, uh, I’m between jobs right now so no one, but the Countess de Stael will surely take me back if the need arises. I’m a favorite of hers–”
The witcher yanked Jaskier to his feet. Jaskier tried not to show how nauseous he was from it. He looked dainty compared to the witcher. Jaskier was sure this witcher was larger than Geralt, and that was truly a record as Geralt was the largest man he’d ever seen.
“I’m Jaskier,” he blurted out as the witcher looked at him with a stern gaze.
“You…” The witcher seemed to not be sure what to do with Jaskier. He peered around the camp with narrow eyes. He eventually settled on, “You should have left me to rot.”
Jaskier furrowed his brow. “No, I should not have. You clearly got into trouble. Witchers only get into trouble like that from fighting monsters.”
The witcher laughed cruelly. “You wouldn’t say that if you knew why I was here.” He sat down on the log, uncaring if the wind was hitting his back. Jaskier slowly sat down on his tree stump and wrapped his cloak tighter around him. “What are you doing out here?”
“I’m heading to Kaedwen.”
“Do you live up there?” asked the burly witcher. It didn’t seem like a conversation– it was more of an interrogation.
“No. I sometimes stay in Oxenfurt but I mostly travel the road.”
“What’s up in Kaedwen?”
“A friend. We try to meet up every spring so we can travel together for a few months. We make a great pair and bring in loads of coin.”
The witcher sighed. He poked the fire with a stick. “You’re actually just a good person, aren’t you?” He sounded like he was in disbelief. “Alright. Get some rest. The forest around here isn’t safe.”
Jaskier’s curiosity got the best of him. “Were you on a contract? Did it go wrong?”
“There’s a pack of Devourers. I got most of them, but I slipped down from their cave. You’re lucky they haven’t come across us yet.”
“A sabbath, then.” Jaskier sighed. “They’re nasty little pricks. Is there a town nearby that they’re feeding from?”
“We’re in the middle of three small towns,” confirmed the Viper. “They’re banded together to put the contract up. It’s still fairly small, but I have free boarding and food.”
“Will you be alright to fend them off?”
The witcher answered plainly, “I’ll worry about the creatures, bard. Sleep for now. You’ll wake up if something goes wrong.”
So, Jaskier slept. The bedroll had new bloodstains but he’d focus on that when he wasn’t surrounded by possible monsters. He had trouble at first trying to sleep, but soon he gave in. The fire was warm and the cloak he had was heavy.
He woke to the sound of a battle. He blearily stood up and assessed his surroundings. The night was too dark and he couldn’t see anything beyond what the fire provided. He could hear the clear sound of flesh being slaughtered. He grabbed a weapon that the witcher left behind and prepared to go out in the night.
Jaskier didn’t make it far. He heard the snap of twigs and leaves, as well as the crunch of snow. He turned to his left but it was too late. He felt strong hands push at him. He fell back as long, thick fingers gripped his shoulders down. The snow felt cold and hard behind his back as Jaskier struggled.
The Devourer snapped its beak-like mouth of teeth at Jaskier. The bard pushed the mouth away from him and attempted to kick at the large body over him. He wasn’t strong like witchers were. He felt like a helpless victim as he grabbed for the dagger he stole from their make-shift camp. Jaskier swung the dagger at the Devourer. It slashed through the throat of the creature but it wasn’t deep enough at all.
Jaskier continued to kick at the beast upon him. He was not going to die in some backwater hick town. He had dreams and promises and he was going to see his niece at least once in his life– and then the Devourer’s head fell down. Jaskier felt the body of the creature fall on him. He let out a pained groan.
The witcher was back with guts slewn over his clothes and armor. He sounded amused as he kicked the Devourer’s corpse off of Jaskier and said, “For a bard, you’re not bad.”
Jaskier stood up shakily.
The witcher assessed Jaskier. “Letho of Gulet,” he announced.
Jaskier momentarily forgot about the splattered blood across his face and the bruising he’d wake up to. He grinned, held out his hand, and said, “I like you, Letho.” The witcher took his hand. “Ooo, strong grip. Very handsome of you.”
Letho let go with a surprised face. “You…” He stood rigidly in the dark. “Go back to bed, bard. That was the last of them.”
Jaskier let himself be led back to camp by Letho. He had human eye-sight and that was shitty as fuck. He warmed himself by the fire as he washed off the blood from his hands, neck, and face. He wanted to take a hot bath but knew that was impossible. He finally just slipped into the inviting darkness of rest.
The next time he woke it was dawn. The sun shone so incredibly bright against the snow. Jaskier packed his bag up then tended to the fire. He was sure that the witcher would return. The fire was still going, after all. Letho hadn’t left long ago.
Half an hour later Letho returned with a sack damp from the snow that sounded full of bottles and a dead rabbit. Pleasantries were exchanged in the quiet as the rabbit roasted. With breakfast done shortly after that, they picked up and left. Jaskier tried not to stare at Letho too much, but he couldn’t help it. The man just saved his life plus he was ruggedly handsome.
They reached one of the small towns before noon. Upon Letho’s arrival, the tavern cheered around them. Letho got paid and ordered up ale and food. Jaskier prepared to pay quickly for his own hot meal but was stopped when a plate landed in front of him. Letho slid into the table with his own food and drink in hand.
“For… caring,” decided the witcher.
Jaskier grinned as he raised a fork with potato to his mouth. They ate while the townspeople sang with merry cheer. Once Jaskier was tipsy enough he joined in. Letho sat in the back quietly. Jaskier didn’t remember much after that. He found himself in a bed when he awoke. His heart sped up when he didn’t see his bags or lute. He relaxed when he spotted them in the corner.
Jaskier wandered about the inn. He was called over by the owner. The owner said, “Bard, will you be staying another night?”
“Uh… no. I’ll be leaving soon,” replied Jaskier.
“Alright, then. If you’re hungry, my daughter makes a great breakfast spread at the tavern.”
“That sounds delicious.”
Jaskier found himself gouging through a breakfast platter that tasted much too good. He was on his way out after but stopped at the board. On it was an old paper that was tattered and turned yellow. It was a bounty of sorts on it.
A local woman caught Jaskier’s eye and drawled, “Are you looking to be a bounty hunter, son?"
“I suppose not,” replied Jaskier.
“Good. That mutant is a Kingslayer. It wouldn’t surprise me if he planned to kill the wanted person instead of getting the bounty. You shouldn't try to interfere with his plans.”
“Kingslayer?”
The woman nodded sagely. “Do you not know of the tales about the witchers that don’t carry two swords?”
Jaskier said, “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anything bad about them.” Other than the usual rumors about how horrid witchers were.
“Kingslayers, they’re called. That White Wolf isn’t one of them, but there’s a few out there. They kill humans for fun or wealth, particularly royalty. We were a bit concerned when such a witcher came to town, but he took the contract and saved us, so we accepted it.” She chuckled.
Jaskier couldn’t help but wonder if Letho was planning to kill someone near town. Either way, when he checked his bags one final time before setting off that morning, he found a dagger in his bag that hadn’t been there the night before. He felt himself smile as he left for Kaedwen, thinking he made a new friend.