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Geralt stepped into the inn, bracing himself for loud, drunken laughter and chatter. He was surprised when instead, the room was nearly silent, apart from a lone man standing at the front of the room.
He was holding a lute, and his head was down, but still he sang, while the rest of the room watched, enraptured.
Geralt hesitated in the doorway for a moment before stepping in. The innkeeper nodded at him, and slid him a jug of ale silently. Geralt slid him a coin in response, and found a seat at the back of the room.
The Witcher often found that he didn't have time for bards, or the like. They sang the same three songs about heroics and love, and had the tendency to encourage the audience to sing along with them while emptying their pockets of coin.
This, though, was something that Geralt had never seen before. There were no ruckus crowds singing together, or people ignoring the bard all together. Everyone was staring at this bard, silently.
Geralt took a sip of the ale. The bard's words flickered through his ears- something about an ocean, about a father who had been lost, and a home that was no longer there.
Seemed a bit fluffy to Geralt, but he had to admit that the bard was talented. He was crooning to the audience, reaching out to them with his voice, and by all accounts it seemed like they were reaching back.
He's like a siren, Geralt thought to himself. He took another swig of his ale and stood up. He was only there passing through- no sense in staying up any later into the night as that would only delay his departure in the morning.
His chair screeched as the legs dragged against the floor. The bard did not stop singing, but his head shot up, chilling Geralt with his blue eyes.
The bard was beautiful.
It wasn't that Geralt didn't recognize beauty when he saw it- Geralt saw the world around them just the same as anyone else, and he knew how the world saw him. But this man's beauty, his thick, brown hair that shone with a golden light under the lanterns, a soft jawline that gave him a gentle, kind look, it pierced something within Geralt.
The bard held eye contact with Geralt, singing in a mournful tone about how he could never go back home, and how he would never find a home again.
Kaer Morhen came to mind. Perhaps the bard was a siren, but his medallion stayed calm when Geralt put a hand to it. Geralt forced himself to shake his head, both to get rid of the thoughts and to break the eye contact with the bard.
Geralt walked back to the innkeeper, and requested a room. The innkeeper nodded, hardly taking his eyes off of the bard to hand Geralt a key. A piece of Geralt itched to ask the innkeeper about the bard, to see how he was able to have such a thrall on the entire inn, but he held back.
His room was standard, as far as inn rooms went. There was a window that was already opened, the moon's light coming in. Geralt set down his gear, and walked to the window with the intention of shutting it, but paused when he reached it.
The lake that the town sat on the edge of was shining.
There was something strange about that lake. Geralt couldn't tell what it was, especially not from this distance, but there was something that wasn't quite right.
Geralt resolved to speak with the innkeeper in the morning. If there was a contract here, if there was work to be done, he could stay and perhaps discover what was going on. If not, he would move on.
Geralt settled on the bed, trying to push all thoughts out of his mind.
Sleep came quickly, with the faint hums of the bard from downstairs leaking through the floorboards.
The moon was still in the sky, when the door to Geralt's room creaked open. Geralt was awake immediately, though he kept still. The intruder opened the door only a bit, before cursing under their breath.
"Fucking Arelan, fucking giving away my room,"
Keeping his head still, Geralt glanced towards the door out of the corner of his eye. The figure was still cast in shadows, but Geralt immediately recognized him as the bard.
"At least he didn't find the box," The bard was saying. For a moment, Geralt wondered if he was talking to someone, but there were no other heartbeats in the doorway other than the bard's. "Okay, just get into the room, grab it, and get out, nothing to it. He looks like he's sleeping like a log, right?"
Geralt's eyes went to his gear which was on the other side of the room. Nothing was in boxes, so what was he talking about?
Geralt waited until the bard snuck into the room. He was walking on his tip-toes, but the floor still creaked under his weight. As the bard stepped into the room, the moon's light cast from the window onto his face.
There was a worried look on the bard's face. His lute was strapped to his back, and his arms were spread out, as if he was attempting to balance himself. Geralt didn't move until the bard reached the side of Geralt's bed, and knelt down to grab something underneath.
The noise of a floorboard being eased out of place was much louder in the total silence of the room. Geralt heard the bard freeze for a moment, before setting the floorboard aside.
His head was almost entirely underneath the bed. Geralt silently slipped out of bed, standing on the other side.
The bard had retrieved whatever he had needed to and put the floorboard back. He pulled his head out from under the bed, eyes solely on a wooden box, with intricate designs on the top that Geralt couldn't quite make out in the dark.
The bard traced a hand over the top delicately. He started to open it, before his eyes flickered up.
"Shit-" The bard cursed, once he saw Geralt standing on the other side of the bed, arms folded. The box dropped heavily, with a thunk that made the bard flinch. "Fucking Gods, warn a man, would you?" The bard sniped, placing a hand over his chest. Though his heart was racing, Geralt could hear it, it calmed, even as he looked at Geralt more closely.
Geralt said nothing back, just watching as the man sent a glare at Geralt before picking up the box once again. He inspected the edges closely, before breathing a sigh of relief.
"Sorry for creeping into your room like this," The bard eventually said, once he found the box to his standards. "Arelan, the innkeep, he has a tendency to give away rooms without telling it's prior occupants."
Geralt didn't reply. The bard shifted uneasily, before ducking his head in a deep nod.
"All right then, I'll just slip out of your hair." The bard stepped towards the door, but not before sending a nervous look to where Geralt had placed his gear. Geralt followed his look, at first presuming the bard was scared of the swords. He should be-
Except he wasn't looking at that, at all. He was staring at Geralt's medallion, which was tremouring slightly against the table.
"What's in the box." Geralt asked. The bard flinched, and pressed the box closer to his chest.
"Nothing of interest. Now if you don't mind," The bard took another step closer to the door, but this time Geralt stepped in between. "Sir, I am trying to leave you alone. I would think that is what you would want from me."
"What is in the box?" Geralt asked again, this time holding out one of his hands. The bard stepped backwards, this time closer to the medallion, which started to rumble against the table.
"Sir, I beg of you- no." The bard's voice was hardly above a whisper. "I am not harming anyone. I never have, and I never will, just let me pass."
"Jaskier? You in there?" A voice came from the other side of the door.
"In here, Arelan, come in," The bard called in response before Geralt could do anything. The door opened, revealing the innkeep. He winced when he saw the two men standing in the room.
"I forgot to tell you the Witcher is staying in ya old room." The innkeep, Arelan said with an apologetic tone. "You didn't pay last night, so I had to give it away."
The bard's shoulders were tight, but he still smiled.
"No worries, Arelan. Just remember to tell me next time, so I can grab my things."
"Aye." Arelan responded. He looked at Geralt warily. "Any issues?"
"None at all," The bard once again cut in. "I was just retrieving my things." He knocked one fist against the box that was still clutched to his chest.
Geralt saw the suspicious looks that the innkeep was shooting him, so he resisted from stopping the bard walking past him.
But he couldn't help but notice the strong scent of sea-water coming off of the bard, as he passed.
"Sorry again for waking you, sir." The bard- Jaskier?- said when he reached the door. He met Geralt's eyes briefly, before looking away. "I'll be departing, for a few days," he said to the innkeep. "I'll leave tomorrow."
"Aye," Arelan said. "Don't suppose you need me to hold onto anything while you are gone?"
Jaskier sent another glance to Geralt before turning and walking from the door.
"If you could take care of my lute while I'm away, I would be very grateful," he said, as he followed Arelan down the hall. As the door shut behind them, he continued to talk. "Full moon's coming up, you know?"
"Aye," Arelan agreed.
Geralt frowned as he sat back down in his bed. The bard had only been in the room for a few minutes, but the entire place smelled of him, that salty tang of sea-water.
He stared out the window at the moon. Jaskier was right, they were only a few days away from a full moon- but what did that mean?
When Geralt fell asleep again, he dreamed this time of the lake outside, the full moon shining down above it, and something slipping through the water. Every time Geralt reached out to discover what was in the water, he would be held in his place.
Geralt woke the next morning as the sun was just beginning to come up. When he came downstairs, it was not Arelan standing behind the bar, but a short woman who was wiping the bar down with a rag.
"Excuse me," Geralt said once he reached her. "Do you know of any monsters or jobs that need to be taken care of?"
The woman looked up, eyes lingering on Geralt's medallion before meeting his eyes.
"No." Geralt nodded.
"Do you know anything of the bard who was here last night."
The woman's eyes flickered back from the medallion to Geralt's gaze.
"Jaskier? What do you want with him?"
"A few questions." Geralt responded with, truthfully. The woman glared at him, scrubbing harder against the bar.
"He's gone. Left town. He went South."
The woman's heart skipped a beat when she said the last word, letting Geralt know that was a lie.
"Hm." Geralt nodded still, and pressed a coin against the bar. "Thank you."
Stepping outside of the inn, Geralt found himself standing in front of the lake that was featured in his dream.The trees lined the other side of the lake, reflecting green colors off of the water. It was a nice summer day- Geralt was surprised to see that there were no children swimming in it, given the heat.
There was no way of finding the bard, now that he was gone. He certainly was not moving south, but that didn’t give Geralt nearly enough information to actually go out and search for him.
Geralt shouldered his swords, and set off. No sense running around in circles regarding something that doesn’t involve him.
To get to his next destination, he had to get on the other side of the lake. It was a nice enough day that he didn’t mind the walk, and began to follow the dirt path that skirted the water.
He had been walking for a while when he heard a shout. He sped up his pace, peering out onto the lake.
The lake was still empty, only a few ripples passing through when a bird landed on the water’s surface. The forest ahead of him was too dense to see through, but he still carried on.
It was the box that caught his attention first. The single shout had not sounded again, but Geralt knew he was heading in the right direction.
He saw the box as he neared it, and immediately recognized it as the box that Jaskier had been holding close to his chest. It was open, and laying on the ground upside down. Geralt didn’t even have to pick it up to find it empty, but he still inspected the inside closely. There were no traces of magic within the box- whatever magic had been in there, was no longer.
It smelled once again, of the sea.
Geralt tucked the box under his arm, and continued down the path.
“No!” The voice screamed again, this time much closer. Geralt drew one of his swords as he approached a clearing, where a man stood. He was holding something white, in his arms, but turned when Geralt stepped into the clearing.
It wasn’t just the man in the clearing- Jaskier was there as well. He was wearing the same clothes as he was last night, but they looked much more battered and torn than they had been. His face was pale, and there was a trickle of blood running down his cheek from his temple.
The man who was standing over him had light hair, and was smirking. That smirk faltered when he saw Geralt behind him.
Without a second of hesitating, the man took off, the white piece of fabric- was it a blanket?- trailing after him in the wind.
“No!” Jaskier shouted, trying to push himself to his feet but stumbling.
Seeing no other danger in the area, Geralt put away his sword, and reached out a hand to help the bard up.
"You need to go after him," Jaskier gasped, not taking Geralt's hand. "You need to get him, he stole it, I need it back-"
Geralt frowned, coming closer to the man.
"What did he take."
"My- the white thing, you saw it. About as long as my body is, it's mine, and it's incredibly important that I get it back." Jaskier tore his eyes from the place that the man had disappeared into the trees to look at Geralt. "Fuck. You're a Witcher, aren't you?"
Immediately putting his hand down, Geralt felt a frown settle on his face. This wasn't the first time he had received this reaction, he just hadn't been expecting it from the bard.
"Yes."
Jaskier continued to stare at him, chewing on his lower lip. "My box!" He scrambled forward, still on the ground, and reached for it. Geralt handed it over easily. Jaskier took it and pressed it tightly to his chest, just as he did the night before.
Geralt watched as he took a deep breath, settling himself before meeting Geralt's gaze again. "I need your help. I know Witchers do not dabble in the deeds of men, but this is crucial."
"Crucial how."
"Life or death, for me, shall I say." Jaskier said, as if that explained anything. "If the wrong person gets their hands on..." He floundered for the right word. "The blanket, then my life is as good as over."
"For a blanket?" Geralt clarified.
"Yes. I'll give you anything you want. All of the money that I have, my lute, the clothes off of my back- just get that back for me."
Geralt watched as Jaskier tried to push himself to his feet on shaky legs. He helped him up, almost immediately, and was caught off guard when Jaskier smiled warmly at his touch, instead of flinching away.
"I-" Jaskier started to say, but cut himself off with a choked gasp, all of the blood draining from his face.
Geralt had to quickly adjust his hold as both of Jaskier's legs went out, and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.
"Fuck," Geralt hissed, trying to keep ahold of Jaskier. The box clattered out of Jaskier's grip and hit the ground, but Geralt was more focused on slapping at Jaskier's face. "Jaskier!"
There were no visible wounds on Jaskier's body, and his only movement was to make a low moaning noise.
They ended up in a position with Jaskier's back being pulled against Geralt's chest. His heartbeat was irregular, but it was still beating. Jaskier's body was tense against Geralt's, until it suddenly went limp once again. Jaskier's head fell backwards, resting on Geralt's shoulder.
"Fuck. That was not fun." Jaskier said. He blinked, and looked up at Geralt. "Oh, hello. Did that happen to convince you to help me?"
"What the hell was that?" Geralt grunted. He wanted to shove the bard out of his grasp, but wasn't sure if Jaskier could stand up right.
"That's only the beginning, if we don't get it back. Are you going to help me?"
"Where would he take it." Geralt asked, in lieu of a real answer. Jaskier still seemed to take it as a yes, for he beamed and pushed up to his feet.
"Probably the next town over, about half a day's walk. I think he wants to sell it." He stuck out his hand. "My name's Jaskier. I saw you at the inn last night, no? And then-" he hesitated, the tips of his ears turning pink. "And then in your room. Sorry about that."
Geralt returned the handshake cautiously. "Geralt."
"Come on, Geralt, might as well get a move on." Jaskier said, holding onto Geralt's hand and tugging him in the direction that the thief had disappeared in. "I'll carry the box if you will throw one of your knives at the thief the moment we see him, yes?"
"Hmm."
"I do not care how you get this back, I just need you to know that at all costs, the p- the blanket must remained undamaged, and gently carried."
"What's the significance of it?" Geralt asked. Jaskier looked back at Geralt.
"Let's make a deal. You get it back for me, and I'll tell you. How's that?"
"Hmm."
"I promise, as I promised you last night, I have never intentionally harmed another human with it, nor do I plan on harming another. I don't think I could even do much hurt with it, all in all."
Jaskier's heartbeat was steady, and his words felt honest to Geralt. Geralt nodded back, and stepped in front of Jaskier, focusing in on the broken branches and footsteps left in the thief's haste.
"Geralt," Jaskier said, gently touching Geralt's arm with his fingertips. "Thank you."
Geralt nodded briskly before turning back to the path.
The journey was short. The thief was clearly an idiot, and didn't expect to be followed, as he left a trail as plain as day. Jaskier continued to urge Geralt along, bringing them up to fast pace any time Geralt would slow.
Eventually, the forest thinned. To their right, they could clearly see the lake. Geralt did not miss how quiet Jaskier went, and the way that his head was on a swivel, looking in front of them, to staring at the lake. He stopped every time Geralt looked at him, and there was an unreadable emotion upon his face.
There was only one incident. This time, Jaskier squeaked out an "oh fuck," before dropping to the ground. Geralt got to his side before his head hit the ground, and tried to arrange him in a comfortable position. Jaskier's hands twitched at his sides, and his mouth was gaping open and closed.
"F-fuck," Jaskier hissed out. "Get on m-me,"
"What?" Geralt said, but he let himself be herded by Jaskier's shaking arms to lay on top of the man. At first, he was worried about crushing him under his weight, but Jaskier made a small sigh of relief. "P-pressure helps."
Geralt awkwardly allowed more of his weight to rest upon Jaskier. From this close, he smelled of seawater, but also pain, and fear. Jaskier also smelled of wildflowers, ever so faintly.
Geralt mentally berated himself for being so attracted to a man who was currently in immense amounts of pain. He focused on Jaskier's face, trying to monitor his pain.
Jaskier's trembling stopped a few minutes later, and he heaved a deep breath. Geralt rolled off of his body, and helped Jaskier up.
"Sorry, about that."
"This have to do with the blanket?" Geralt asked. Jaskier was brushing dirt off of the back of his pants, and looked up, a strange looking over his face.
"Yes," he finally answered after a pause. "It's only going to get worse, the longer it is in the hands of Gods knows who."
Geralt inspected Jaskier for a moment. Jaskier looked back at him nervously. Eventually, Geralt nodded and started back on the path. They were close- he knew it.
As they continued to walk, Jaskier became increasingly jittery.
"I know this might not make any sense, but if anyone cuts into, or destroys the blanket, that's bad news for me. I don't typically condone murder, but I am just letting you know that if you want, I will fully support you cutting his head off."
Geralt glanced back at Jaskier, who was looking out onto the lake.
"Hm."
Before Jaskier could say anything else, a branch ahead of them snapped. Geralt paused as Jaskier sped ahead, breaking into a near sprint.
"Jaskier!" Geralt shouted, running to catch up with him.
"You!" Jaskier shouted. There was a grunting noise. When Geralt reached them, it was to a similar scene. Jaskier was on the ground, writhing, as the thief held the blanket in two hands.
"You thought I wouldn't realize what a prize I had received?" The thief taunted. Geralt came closer, frowning when he saw the blanket. It looked nothing like a blanket, in fact, it looked as if it was a light layer of fur, that-
"You thought you wouldn't realize how much money I could get for a real selkie pelt, along with it's bitch to go with it?"
The thief gripped two edges of the pelt and began to tear at it. Jaskier let out a scream of anguish, blood already beginning to pour through his shirt.
Geralt was across the crossing and had the thief pinned against a tree before the thief even saw him.
"Drop. It." Geralt ordered.
The thief's eyes went wide, but he obeyed, dropping the pelt at their feet. Geralt spared a moment to look at the pelt, before raising a fist and knocking the man on the head.
The thief collapsed almost immediately.
Geralt wasted no time in scooping up the pelt, and rushing to Jaskier. Jaskier was breathing heavily, a hand flexing over the spot where the blood was coming from. Geralt lifted Jaskier's shirt, but there was no clear wound.
"Water, water!" Jaskier gasped out. Geralt nodded, and scooped Jaskier into a bridal carry.
The lake's edge was perhaps a five minute run, but every moment made Geralt's heart pound faster. Three minutes in, Jaskier went limp in Geralt's arms, his eyes closing.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Geralt chanted. The line of trees fell behind them, and Geralt was rushing into the water, until it was up to his knees.
The lake's silence was broken by Geralt's splashing, and him laying Jaskier on its surface.
Jaskier didn't react.
"Damnit, Jaskier, turn," Geralt said under his breath, his arms resting underneath Jaskier's body in the water. The bleeding had stopped, but he still wasn't stirring. The pelt- how could Geralt have ever thought it was anything but a pelt?- rested gently on top of Jaskier's body, becoming heavier in the water.
"Jaskier," Geralt said again, this time louder. The pelt got heavier as the water begin to weigh it down.
There was a slipping motion, and suddenly, Jaskier was gone. The breath was taken from Geralt's lungs until a small, white head poked up through the water. Even if Geralt hadn't expected it, he would have recognized the spotted head and big eyes easily.
"Jaskier," he breathed. Jaskier, now as a seal, made a little squawking noise at him before dipping back into the water.
In the darkness of the night, Geralt could hardly see Jaskier, but he knew he was there, felt the swirling water between his legs as Jaskier spun around in circles and loops.
Once he was certain that Jaskier was alright, he slowly backed out of the water. He had been in such a rush that he hadn't bothered to take off his shoes before running in, and they squished uncomfortably under his feet as he stepped out onto the bank of the lake.
Jaskier made another squawking noise, only stopping when Geralt turned back around.
"Only sitting down here. You all right?" Jaskier chirped and dove back under the water.
Geralt pulled off his shoes to dry, and rolled up his pant legs.
A selkie. Jaskier was a selkie. The signs were all there, including why Jaskier was hesitant of him at first. The constant sea-salt scent, and why getting his pelt back was so crucial. Had they come too late, the thief could have figured out how to control Jaskier using his pelt, not just how to hurt him.
The phantom pains and wounds that Jaskier was experiencing must have been the thief handling the pelt- Geralt had heard of selkies being connected to their pelts even when in human skin.
Geralt took a moment to organize the day's events in his head. Jaskier was a selkie, but he wasn't hurting anyone. And he was safe, now. Geralt let himself relax slightly.
After a few minutes, Jaskier appeared back near the bank, pulling himself closer to land with his flippers. He had a fish flopping in his mouth.
"Stop," Geralt instructed, as Jaskier dragged himself across a particularly rocky patch of land. Jaskier looked up at him with his big eyes, and dropped the fish. "Is that for me?" Jaskier barked excitedly, bobbing his head up and down. "Thank you."
He leaned out to grab the fish, and pulled it back onto land. Jaskier shuffled backwards, into the water once again. Geralt stared at the fish in his hand for a moment, before beginning to make a fire.
Once the fire was going, and the fish was roasting on top of it, Jaskier came back, with another fish. Instead of passing it off to Geralt again, he dropped it in front of himself and laid his head on it, watching Geralt.
"Don't go over the rocks again," Geralt warned. His fish was just about cooked, so Geralt took away from the fire, and waded back into the water. Jaskier made excited noises as he did.
"Are you going to eat?" Geralt asked. Jaskier bobbed his head once again before digging into his fish. It wasn't exactly a pretty sight, watching Jaskier, as a seal, devour a fish, so Geralt focused on his own meal.
By the time they were done, Jaskier was floating on his back in the water, lazily spinning in circles. He sat up once Geralt tossed the stick he had been using to cook back on land.
"What?"
Jaskier made some chirping noises, wiggling over to Geralt. He brushed against Geralt's legs. Even as a seal, and soaking wet, he was incredibly soft. Geralt couldn't resist but bend down and brush a hand against Jaskier's underbelly.
This only excited Jaskier even more, as he began to rub against Geralt's leg with more intensity.
"Got it, got it," Geralt couldn't hold back a chuckle. He continued to brush at Jaskier's pelt, obligingly petting wherever Jaskier instructed him to.
Once Jaskier seemed satisifed, he pressed his nose to Geralt's leg before taking off into the water again.
The moon was slightly lower in the sky when Jaskier reappeared. Geralt had been leaning against a tree, gently tending to the fire as he stared out onto the lake. Like a mirage, or a vision, Jaskier appeared, now in human form. He was entirely naked except for his pelt, which he wrapped around himself.
He looked better than he had in the past day, even more beautiful than he had looked at the inn. His hair was dripping with water, little beads running down his skin.
Geralt remembered when, only a day ago, he had wondered if the man was a siren. Perhaps he was- Geralt got the sense that he wasn't through with all of Jaskier's secrets.
"You stayed," Jaskier said, sinking to his feet once he was next to Geralt. Instead of moving away, Geralt found himself drawn in.
"You needed protection." Geralt finally responded. Jaskier smiled at him.
The bard, the selkie, the man, Jaskier reached out and pressed his lips to Geralt's cheek.
"Thank you," he whispered. He didn't move as Geralt turned to face him, and instead, let Geralt press their lips together.
It was a chaste kiss, just a simple press of lips together, but the scent of seawater was so overbearing it almost made Geralt's head spin.
"The innkeeper and his wife would watch over my things for me." Jaskier informed. "They are the only ones who know what I am."
"Your family?" Geralt asked, but didn't press when Jaskier shook his head.
"But it might be time for me to move on. I've been thinking about heading for the coast, better water there."
"Hm." Geralt said. Jaskier was staring directly into Geralt's eyes, making him feel like he was transparent. "I was heading that way too."
Geralt wasn't, but Jaskier didn't need to know that way.
"Good." Jaskier smiled at him. "I guess I better stay with you then. So you have something to protect." Jaskier whispered again. He cupped Geralt's face with one hand. "Will you protect my pelt, dear Witcher?"
Geralt's mouth went dry, so he nodded as he tried to speak again.
"I will."
Jaskier's smile was almost blinding, and Geralt let himself be pulled in for another kiss.
There was a shift, and Geralt opened his eyes to see that Jaskier had dropped his pelt onto the ground.
"You will protect it, just as you will protect me?"
Geralt nodded, reaching out to pull Jaskier onto his lap.
"Good," Jaskier said, sounding pleased. "I thought you might."