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Jaskier woke with a start at the sound of screaming.
His muddled mind took a moment to take stock of his surroundings. He was at home, in his bed…alone? Ah, right, Geralt was working the night shift again, but the screaming—
Ciri.
Without another thought, Jaskier scrambled to find his glasses on the bedside table and rushed out into the hallway towards Ciri’s room.
Although he had known Ciri since she was a small child, she hadn’t been a permanent fixture in Geralt’s and his lives until recently. Geralt had volunteered to care for the infant nearly a decade earlier upon Pavetta and Duny’s untimely passing, but the courts decided that Ciri’s guardianship would go to her grandparents. Begrudgingly, Calanthe had allowed Geralt and Jaskier to visit Ciri on occasion, but Calanthe had loved jealously and feared that they would take Ciri from her.
Jaskier wished that her fears hadn’t come to pass.
It had only been three months since they had gotten the call in the middle of the night. A house fire, consuming everything in its path and sparing none but Ciri. She’d been theirs ever since, along with the sleepless nights that accompanied her.
Jaskier was no stranger to childhood trauma. As a middle school music teacher he often dealt with children that had seen far too much in their short time on Earth. Even so, -, he had no clue where to start.
Ciri had always been a sweet, energetic child, taking joy from the smallest things around her, but ever since the accident she’d withdrawn into herself. Jaskier and Geralt had tried everything to help; they had gotten her a therapist, tried to make her surroundings to her liking, hell, he had even learned how to bake her favorite treats. Each day the Ciri he knew and loved would peek out from behind the mask, like the sun on a cloudy day, but every night the nightmares returned with a vengeance.
Jaskier skidded around the last corner—grasping the wall as he tripped over the hallway runner—and burst into her room. With a quickness only brought by muscle memory, he flicked the switch, momentarily wincing at the sudden brightness of the room until his eyes adjusted.
The sight that greeted him broke his heart.
As per usual, Ciri was still asleep. In the three months she had been with them, Ciri never woke up from her nightmares naturally. It wasn’t until either Geralt or Jaskier woke her that she was freed from the horrors of her mind.
Jolted into action by another piercing scream, Jaskier leapt across the room and began to softly call her name. “Ciri. Cirilla, darling, open your eyes.”
Jaskier watched as she tossed around on her bed, her youthful face screwed up in terror. He wished to wake her more quickly by placing a hand on her arm, but he had learned his lesson after such an action had sent her straight into a panic attack. Instead, he continued to call out.
“Ciri. Cirilla, you’re safe. You’re in Geralt’s house with me. No one can hurt you here.”
With those words, Ciri shot straight up with a scream, pushing herself into the corner of her bed as her eyes darted frantically about until she caught sight of him. At that moment she launched herself across the bed and into his arms.
“Oh dearheart, you’re okay, I promise. You’re safe, you’re not there anymore.”
The only response he received were keening cries into the crook of his neck as she continued to sob. Helpless, Jaskier continued to murmur reassurances until she finally pulled away and wiped away her tears.
“I’m sorry,” she said with a sniffle, “I keep on waking you up with my stupid nightmares—”
Jaskier shook his head and opened his arms, a silent invitation that Ciri took as she curled up next to him. “Don’t apologize, Love. Your nightmares aren’t stupid. Besides, when you’re as fabulous as me, you don’t need beauty sleep darling.”
Ciri snorted out a laugh and pulled away once more to wipe away some stray tears. “I just want them to stop.”
“Of course, and someday they will.” Jaskier paused, deep in thought before he turned to her. “You know, I used to have nightmares too.”
Ciri’s eyes widened to show her interest even as her silence stretched on. Taking her nod as a signal to continue, Jaskier said, “When I was 10, I was in a bad car crash. I was stuck in the car for nearly an hour before emergency personnel could get to us. I dreamt of being trapped for a long time after and I would wake up my parents screaming for months.”
Ciri sniffled and bit her lip as she processed the words. At least, Jaskier hoped that was what she was doing. The machinations behind an 11-year old girl’s mind were unknown to him.
“But it stopped?”
“Eventually,” he replied, rubbing a soothing pattern along her back, “but it took time.”
Ciri nodded, picking at her cuticles as he waited for her reply. After a few moments, she muttered, “But if the nightmares stop…does that mean I’m forgetting them?”
Jaskier’s heart broke as he looked into his goddaughter’s pale face and he fought back tears of his own. “No, darling. You aren’t forgetting them because you’ll still remember the good things everyday. You’ll remember your grandmother’s ferocity and Eist’s kindness. You’ll remember the shopping trips and horrible omelets—” He paused as Ciri let out a wet laugh and he placed a kiss at the crown of her head. “You’ll remember. You’ll just heal from the bad, and trust me when I say that’s what they would want for you, princess.”
Ciri nodded as tears streamed down her face. “Thank you, Jask.”
Jaskier shoved his own tears into a box for later and pasted on a smile. “Of course, darling. Now—” he punctuated the word by slapping both hands on his thighs and moving them both into a more comfortable position, “would you prefer a story or a song?”
“A song, please. Could you—I mean can I make a request?”
“Anything, Ciri, as long as I know it,” he replied, stroking his fingers through her long hair.
Ciri took in a shaky breath and moved so Jaskier could see her face. “My grandma used to sing me a song when I was a child when I had trouble sleeping. It goes something like this.”
Jaskier listened as she sang part of a chorus that he knew very well and smiled. “Yes, darling, I know that one quite well. I’ll sing it until you go to sleep.”
Ciri sniffled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Thanks, Jask.”
“Anything, princess.”
With that Jaskier began to softly sing a tune that he knew very well. A song that Pavetta had loved when she’d been alive.
Someday we’ll all be gone,
But lullabies go on and on
They never die
That’s how you and I will be
Jaskier shuddered as he sang those last words, and let the deep even breathing of Ciri bring him peace. With a smile, he lowered her down onto the bed and pressed a parting kiss to her brow.
Before he could leave, he felt a small hand grasp at his wrist. Turning back he saw Ciri frowning with her eyes still closed.
“Don’t go.”
“Okay.”
Without another word, Jaskier shut off the light and climbed into the bed, letting Ciri curl up close.
Geralt would find the two of them curled up together the next morning, finally home from his shift. He’d smile, knowing that they would be alright.
Everything would be alright.