Chapter Text
Jaskier is just about to fall asleep when the tentative knock against his door gives him a start and has him sit up at once.
“Geralt?”
He barely raises his voice as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed and reaches for his dagger on the tiny bedside table before he has even climbed to his feet. If it’s indeed Geralt on the other side of the door of the little inn room, he will have no trouble making out his question and answer. If it’s someone else, they will either leave, knock again, or, if they had hoped to clear out an empty room or overwhelm him in his sleep, they won’t get the drop on him they had wanted. After nearly three decades at Geralt’s side, catching Jaskier off guard is far harder than it seems, and he always makes a point to make it seem easy, to lean into the assessment strangers make of him and only correct them when the tables have already turned.
Tonight though, there is a second knock, slightly louder than the first just as he crosses over to the door, and a small, familiar voice that calls out for him by name.
“Are you still awake?”, Ciri asks, a heartbeat before Jaskier unlocks the door and jumps ever so slightly when he eases it back to receive her.
“Come in, honey - Is everything alright?”
The fire in the hearth and the candle on the windowsill cast the entire, tiny room in warm, flickering light – but Ciri’s face looks pale even beneath that gentle glow. On every other night, Jaskier would immediately reach out to touch her, to gather her close and usher her towards the bed in the far corner of the room, but the memory of their… not quite quarrel earlier is still too fresh in his mind to risk it.
“Can I stay with you tonight?”
Her voice gets almost lost in the creaking of the floorboards beneath their feet when she shifts her weight and still doesn’t quite look up to face him.
“Please?”
“Of course you can”, Jaskier tells her and his frown only deepens when he watches some of the tension leave her body, as if she were breathing a sigh of relief, “Ciri, what’s wrong?”
A couple of hours ago, when they had reached the little town where they were supposed to meet up with Geralt at the end of the week, she had been adamant that she wanted her own room while they waited for their witcher to catch up with them, had all but demanded it with an edge to her voice Jaskier had seldomly heard in all the years she had been traveling with him and his husband, and he had agreed after a beat of surprised silence. These days they had more than enough money to occasionally splurge on an indulgence like that, and this far they had hardly ever done so.
I thought you wanted to be by yourself tonight, is what Jaskier wants to remark now, but his and Geralt’s daughter of surprise still makes no move to take even one step further into the room, and additional hostility would probably be the last thing to help with that.
“Sweetheart”
His voice comes out more hesitant than he would like, but at least Ciri doesn’t flinch back when he reaches out to touch her shoulder.
“You know, you can come to me with anything at all, right?”, he asks when he still gets no answer.
“I don’t feel good”, she finally mumbles, and this time her eyes flick up to meet his for a second, “my stomach hurts and I think I’m going to throw up”
“You poor thing”, Jaskier croons at once, and his hands come up to cup Ciri’s face and touch her forehead, “lets get you sitting down then, hm? Do you think you can walk over there?”
He gestures towards the empty bed and slings an arm around her side when she nods and allows him to guide her towards it.
“I don’t think you have a fever”, he tells her once she has sat down on the edge of the bed, both arms slung around her belly and shoulders hunched forward, “but I’ll check again later. Did you eat anything you haven’t had before?”
“No, just some bread and soup and that was hours ago”
“Hm, sometimes it takes a while for the effects to kick in even if something you had was off. I’ll get you something to drink, okay?”
“Don’t leave”
“I won’t even leave the room, honey, just go over there and heat up some water, okay? I’m pretty sure we’ve got dried peppermint or ginger, if not both and you’ll probably feel a lot better with something warm in your belly”
Ciri doesn’t look convinced at all, but she does finally nod and doesn’t protest when he briefly touches her cheek once more before he turns to rifle in his pack for the little container and sets about replacing the cast iron pot over the fire. It doesn’t take long to prepare her tea, and Jaskier finds Ciri in the exact position and spot he had left her when he returns to her side a couple of minutes later and sets the steaming mug down on the nightstand beside his sheathed dagger.
“Did you remember to lock up your room?”, he asks when he sits down by her side and wraps his arms around her as soon as she leans into his side.
“Yeah, I got the keys here”
“Good girl”, Jaskier tells her before he kisses the top of her head, “can you show me where you’re hurting?”
“Here’s worst”, Ciri winces, even as she sits up straighter and moves one hand to indicate her lower belly, “but it kinda hurts all over”
“Your right side’s not the worst?”, Jaskier asks, just to make sure and breathes a quiet sigh of relief when she shakes her head and goes back to holding her stomach with both arms while he rubs her back.
He’s not even sure if this town has a half decent healer, and he’s learnt from personal experience that the middle of the night is the worst time to go search for one, never mind try to dicker over payment. As long as it’s not side sickness they have to deal with, they can probably figure this out by themselves – and there’s always Yennefer as a last resort, even if Jaskier hopes it won’t come to that.
“I’m sorry for being a bitch earlier”
Ciri’s forehead has come to a rest against Jaskier’s collarbone, and her voice comes out muffled in the semi dark.
“You weren’t being a being a bitch”, Jaskier assures her with soft laugh, “I’m one sometimes, Geralt can be one for sure, but not you. You’ve got nothing to apologize for”
Her answering laugh is cut short by a groan and Jaskier merely catches her when she slumps further into his side and continues to smooth his hands against her back and side.
“Can you do me a favour and try to drink a bit of tea? I think it’s cooled off enough for a few sips”
Cool enough for her anyway. Jaskier sometimes winces just from watching her and Geralt down steaming hot soup or drinks while he waits for his to cool down to a humane temperature, no matter how cold it is around them or how hungry he is after a long day on the path. He still blows on the thin tendril of smoke that rises from the cup when he hands it to Ciri, who hardly flinches when she closes her hands around the warm earthenware and breathes in the fresh scent before she lifts it up to her lips.
“Or you could do that”, Jaskier tells her with a soft laugh when she lowers her cup and leans it against her belly, “on second thought, I might know something better. Drink up darling, I’ll be right back with you”
The majority of their everyday sort of utensils used to reside in Roach’s saddlebags, but these days she and Pegasus share that load, just like their stores of human- and witcher designated herbs and potions are divided between Jaskier’s and Geralt’s packs. Some habits however are so ingrained that even years of near uselessness cannot override them, and the little, battered saucepan lid that had been part of Jaskier’s pack even before he had joined Geralt’s traveling is still in its accustomed place, shoved down to the very bottom of the bag that holds his notebooks and stationery.
“What are you doing?”, Ciri asks from the edge of the bed when he returns to the hearth and carefully places the lid in the flames.
The only upside of the perpetual state of rain and cold phases that seemed to follow them around wherever they went lately at least had the advantage of a hearth fires already being lit in their rooms, and the lid is small enough to heat up fast.
“Old trick of mine for dealing with stomach-aches – and believe you me, I know what I’m talking about there”
It’s only then that the obvious assumption dawns on Jaskier, and he just about manages not to voice it at once. They’ll know soon enough and there’s little use in bringing it up before he really has to.
“Here you go”, he says as he carefully winds an old scarf around the hot disk and hands it her once he has made his way back to her and the bed, “that ought to do a better job than your mug”
“That’s genius”, Ciri tells him a moment later, empty mug discarded on the mattress beside her as she holds the little bundle in place against her middle and looks up at him with a smile that’s only a little strained, “thank you”
“O, you’re welcome honey, just tell me when it gets too cold”
“Can you come here?”
“As if I’d ever decline an invitation to cuddle my favourite princess”
“I’m the only princess you’ve ever gotten to cuddle”, Ciri points out, but does immediately lean into Jaskier’s embrace when he sits down next to her again.
“O, you’d be surprised actually. I used to be quite popular with several members of the high aristocracy before I got with Geralt”
“Popular”, Ciri echoes with raised eyebrows, only pulling back far enough to see his face.
“Don’t look at me like that”, Jaskier tells her with a laugh, as he tugs her back and holds her close, “no one ever said that I had to live as a celibate while I pined for the love of my life – well, no one I listened to anyway. It’s all a sham anyway; just some stupid, stuck-up little men trying to bully about everyone to live up to their bullshit moral code. As if being born without a cock makes you public property”, he adds with scornful laugh, before he shakes his head as if to dislodge that train of thought, “o, but never mind all that for now, are you feeling a bit better?”
“A bit”, Ciri agrees, and pauses just a moment before she asks, “can I still sleep here?”
“Of course, honey. Forget about the room, we can either keep it if you want it tomorrow or just give it up if you don’t. You don’t even want to know how many rooms Geralt and I got kicked out of after paying upfront over the years, one more booked room that goes unused is hardly going to be what fucks us in the end. Do you want to lay down for a bit or are you still feeling too queasy?”
“I think I’ll be fine now”
“Alright, just wake me up if it’s getting worse again”
“Thanks”
“Don’t even mention it, Ciri”