Work Text:
The enigmatic allure of old castles lies in their labyrinthine corridors and hidden chambers, where the echoes of history whisper secrets lost to time. Raised within the sprawling confines of his family's estate, Jaskier had mastered the art of wandering amidst the maze-like architecture, becoming intimately acquainted with every twist and turn, every shadowed alcove. Yet, even with his familiarity with such structures, Kaer Morhen, perched stoically on the mountainside, presented a challenge no less daunting.
It had been a mere seven days since Jaskier first crossed the threshold into Kaer Morhen's ancient walls, a period marked by the tumultuous upheaval wrought by Ciri's harrowing encounter with demonic possession. Despite the chaos that initially gripped the fortress, a semblance of tranquillity had once more settled upon its weathered stones. With its towering walls and imposing architecture, the fortress starkly contrasted with the outside world. For Jaskier, finding himself within the hallowed halls of Kaer Morhen was akin to stepping into a cherished reverie, fulfilling a lifelong yearning.
Yet, amidst the serenity of Kaer Morhen's confines, Jaskier yearned for a deeper connection with Geralt, a desire to witness the witcher in moments of repose within the sanctuary of his own home. However, such intimacies remained elusive, as Geralt persisted in venturing forth alone, leaving Jaskier to while away the hours in the village nestled at the mountain's base.
In the solitude of those predawn hours, as the village lay shrouded in slumber, Jaskier often pondered the enigmatic circumstances that had led him to Kaer Morhen's threshold. Though grateful for Geralt's intervention in liberating him from imprisonment, Jaskier couldn't help but wonder why fate had intertwined their paths. Surely, Geralt could have easily abandoned him to his own devices, yet he hadn't.
A sense of displacement gnawed at Jaskier's heart, an awareness that he stood apart from the harmonious bonds between Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri. They were a familial trinity, their connections woven seamlessly together, leaving little room for an interloper like himself. Jaskier recognized his role as a transient figure in their lives, a fleeting amusement destined to fade into memory once his purpose had been served. He was the wandering bard, the entertainer who would eventually move on, leaving only echoes of his songs and laughter. This feeling of displacement was not new to him, having been a wandering bard for most of his life, but it was particularly poignant in this setting.
Though the other witchers begrudgingly tolerated his presence within Kaer Morhen's confines, Jaskier couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, an incongruous puzzle piece amidst the fortress's stoic guardians. Perhaps it would have been simpler had he departed when the opportunity arose, yet the capricious hand of fate had intervened, sealing his fate within Kaer Morhen's embrace as a storm raged outside, rendering the mountain path impassable and leaving Jaskier stranded within its ancient walls.
"Jask, are you in here?" Geralt's voice sliced through the library's peaceful ambiance, disrupting Jaskier's reverie among the stacks of ancient manuscripts.
"Um, right here," Jaskier responded, his voice carrying a faint uncertainty as he tore his gaze from the pages before him to meet Geralt's eyes.
"You weren't at lunch," Geralt observed, his tone tinged with a hint of awkwardness as he extended a plate of food toward Jaskier.
"Oh, thank you," Jaskier murmured, accepting the offering with a grateful nod, though the tension between them hung heavy in the air, a palpable barrier that stifled genuine connection. "You didn't have to do that."
"It's cold here, and less body fat means it would be harder to stay warm," Geralt explained, his attempt at conversation faltering beneath the weight of unspoken truths.
A pregnant silence descended upon them, stretching taut between the shelves laden with knowledge and the chasm of misunderstanding that yawned between them. Geralt's desire to bridge the divide was palpable, yet his efforts often seemed to exacerbate the distance rather than diminish it.
"So, how's it going in here?" Geralt ventured, his words laced with uncertainty as he struggled to navigate the treacherous terrain of their strained relationship.
"It's going fine. The books provide excellent company," Jaskier replied with practiced ease, donning the mask of the jovial bard to conceal the ache that gnawed at his soul. Besides, they're a wellspring of inspiration for my next compositions."
"If you need material for your songs, the others would be willing to share their stories," Geralt offered tentatively, a flicker of hope kindling within him at the prospect of fostering a genuine connection.
"I wouldn't want to impose," Jaskier hesitated, his smile faltering beneath the weight of unspoken truths. "Besides, I'm sure Ciri or Yennefer require your attention elsewhere."
"Are you sure?" Geralt pressed, his concern mingling with a lingering guilt for his inability to bridge the chasm that separated them.
"Yes," Jaskier affirmed, his tone belying the ache that clenched at his heart as he watched Geralt retreat from the library, leaving him alone amidst the silent companionship of dusty tomes and forgotten lore.
With Geralt's departure, the facade crumbled, and the mask of the merry minstrel fell away, revealing the weariness that etched lines upon Jaskier's brow. Alone once more, he allowed himself a moment of vulnerability, the weight of his solitude pressing down upon him like the weight of the world.
Once more retreating into the comforting embrace of the library's hallowed halls, Jaskier sought solace amidst the towering stacks of dusty tomes and forgotten manuscripts. Here, in the quiet solitude of the archives, he stumbled upon a discovery that would forever alter the course of his fate.
A peculiar tome, its cracked leather binding adorned with faded runes, beckoned to him from the shadows of obscurity, its secrets whispered on the breath of ages. Intrigued by its enigmatic allure, Jaskier gingerly pried open the ancient volume, the weight of anticipation heavy upon his trembling shoulders as his eyes traced the arcane symbols etched upon the yellowed pages, a sense of foreboding washed over him, tendrils of apprehension coiling around his senses like a suffocating embrace. With each word he uttered, the air seemed to shimmer with otherworldly energy, crackling with the promise of unseen forces at play.
"Mire unseen an hear unspoken esse yeá aep yn taedh minne," Jaskier murmured, the ancient words rolling off his tongue like a forgotten incantation.
A wave of dizziness swept over him, the world tilting precariously on its axis before plunging into an abyss of darkness. When Jaskier finally regained consciousness, he found himself disoriented, the passage of time rendered indiscernible by the unyielding shroud of darkness that enveloped him.
Struggling to his feet, Jaskier reached out for support, only to recoil in horror as he realized the truth of his predicament. His hands, once familiar and comforting, were now nothing more than fleeting wisps, their substance dissolved into the void of invisibility. Panic clawed at his throat as he frantically scanned the empty expanse of the library, his heart pounding in desperate rhythm against the cage of his ribcage.
With trembling fingers, he reached out to touch his face, only to find emptiness staring back at him. He was invisible, a spectre condemned to wander the halls of Kear Morhen unseen and unheard by those around.
In a desperate bid for salvation, Jaskier attempted to cry out, to shatter the suffocating silence that threatened to consume him whole. But no words escaped his lips; no sound pierced the veil of emptiness that encased him in its icy grip.
Tears welled in his eyes as he grappled with the crushing weight of his isolation, the realization dawning upon him that he was truly alone, adrift in a world that could no longer hear his cries for help.
Like a caged beast, Geralt prowled back and forth in the main courtyard before the gates leading to the vast woods surrounding Kaer Morhen.
"You need to calm yourself," Yennefer interjected, sensing the palpable fear emanating from Geralt. She half-expected his relentless pacing to bore a hole into the ground beneath him.
"It's been three days, Yen," Geralt exclaimed in frustration. "Jaskier hasn't been seen for three days."
When Geralt couldn't locate Jaskier in the library one afternoon, where he intended to bring the bard some lunch, he assumed Jaskier had ventured off to gather tales from others. Yet, his brethren had to spot Jaskier despite Vessmier actively seeking him out. The veteran witcher recalled Geralt mentioning Jaskier's stint as a professor at Oxenfurt during winter and considered him a potential tutor for Ciri. Despite scouring every corner of the keep, Jaskier seemed to have vanished.
Initially, Geralt entertained the notion that Jaskier might have persuaded Yennefer to transport him away, but Yennefer denied any such request from the bard. Furthermore, Jaskier's belongings, including his cherished lute, remained untouched in his quarters. Geralt couldn't shake the chill in Jaskier's room and regretted not providing more furs. Oddly, it appeared Jaskier hadn't even kindled the fireplace.
After questioning each inhabitant of the keep, it became evident that no one had seen Jaskier in at least three days.
"I'm certain he's nearby," Yennefer attempted to reassure Geralt, masking her growing concern for the bard.
"Then why can't I find him?" Geralt nearly bellowed, the inability to locate Jaskier gnawing at him. He had always possessed an uncanny ability to track the bard's whereabouts.
"Perhaps he's just outside. You know how restless he gets; he probably grew tired of confinement and went for a stroll," Yennefer suggested, attempting to offer solace.
At that pivotal moment, the heavy doors leading to the expansive courtyards swung open, the air thick with anticipation as Geralt stood on the edge, hoping against hope for the sight of Jaskier striding through. Yet fate seemed to have a different script in store. Instead of the bard's familiar figure, Eskel entered, his presence accompanied by the scent of the hunt and a hefty boar slung over his shoulder. But conspicuously absent was Jaskier.
"I looked, but there was no trace of Jaskier," Eskel murmured, his tone laced with a hint of regret. Despite the lack of personal acquaintance, the tales spun by Geralt during long winter nights had woven a tapestry of familiarity around Jaskier, making his absence keenly felt by all.
It was no secret that Geralt held a special fondness for Jaskier. His worry was palpable in his brow furrow and the tension in his stance. If Jaskier's vanishing act perturbed the stoic witcher, it spoke volumes about the gravity of the situation.
"He has to be somewhere," Geralt muttered as they retreated indoors, his quiet mantra echoing the collective hope that Jaskier would soon reappear unscathed and unharmed.
Returning to Kaer Morhen, the fortress whispered with the echoes of anticipation, Geralt's heart leaping at the distant strains of a lute. Hope flared within him like a beacon for a fleeting moment, igniting the possibility that Jaskier was finally located.
"Jaskier!"
Geralt's voice rang out, carrying the weight of longing as he scanned the surroundings for any sign of the bard, whose musical talents were as familiar as his penchant for trouble.
Yet, the lute lay unattended, a silent witness to the absence of its master. Disappointment clenched at Geralt's heart like a vice, mingling with the frustration of yet another false alarm.
"Just the damn lute again," Lambert's voice cut through the air, his characteristic grumble punctuating the moment as he entered the scene, Ciri trailing behind him.
"Did you find him?" Ciri inquired, her concern etched across her features. Though her interactions with Jaskier had been limited since her tumultuous arrival, she harboured a growing curiosity about the bard, recognizing in him a potential source of connection to her shattered past, particularly regarding Cintra.
"Not yet," Geralt responded, drawing Ciri close with a protective arm around her shoulders. Oddly, despite Jaskier's physical absence, his presence lingered in the air, an olfactory memory that clung stubbornly to the witcher's senses.
The fragrance of wildflowers and honeysuckle, intertwined with the subtle undertones of chamomile oils, formed an ethereal bouquet that served as Jaskier's signature scent, a haunting reminder of his enduring presence, even in his absence.
If Jaskier were brutally honest with himself, he'd admit that invisibility wasn't as terrible as he initially thought. He had adapted to it, though the solitude weighed on him.
Increasingly, Jaskier realized that perhaps no one truly cared to hear his voice anyway. So, he spent his days drifting around Kaer Morhen, silently observing its inhabitants. Occasionally, he'd muster the courage to strum his lute again, finding solace in the melodies he could still weave.
Initially hesitant to play his lute since arriving at Kaer Morhen, fearing he'd intrude upon others, Jaskier now saw it as his only means to remind them of his presence.
Surprisingly, Jaskier discovered that his absence hadn't gone unnoticed, especially by Geralt. He had expected indifference, but it seemed his companions did indeed miss him.
As the heavy clouds loomed ominously overhead, signalling an impending snowstorm, Geralt felt the weight of urgency pressing down upon him. The impending storm threatened to engulf the land, obscuring pathways and sealing off routes for days. Yet, amidst this looming natural fury, his mind was consumed by the absence of one particular individual – Jaskier, the wandering bard whose companionship had become an inseparable part of his journey.
"I need to go out to find him," Geralt muttered, his voice edged with determination. He couldn't bear the thought of Jaskier being caught in the unforgiving cold, his fate at the mercy of the impending blizzard.
"You can't expect to find him before the storm arrives," Yennefer interjected, her voice laced with concern as she attempted to dissuade Geralt from braving the elements again.
"But I have to try," Geralt retorted, his resolve unyielding as he hastily prepared himself, ensuring he was equipped to face the harsh conditions, determined to rescue his bard from the clutches of an icy demise.
"Look, wolf, no one has seen your bard for days," Vesemir spoke up, his tone sombre as he reluctantly broached the grim reality that lingered unspoken among them. "No human could survive outside for that long."
"What are you saying?" Geralt's voice was low, a tinge of desperation seeping into his words even as he already knew the answer.
"That Jaskier is most likely dead," Yennefer finally voiced the grim truth, her words hanging heavy in the air as a sombre silence descended upon the group.
"No, he can't be dead," Geralt protested vehemently, refusing to accept the possibility of such a devastating loss.
"I'm sorry," Eskel offered softly, extending his sympathy, only to be met with a harsh rebuff from Geralt.
"Yeah, I kind of like the little bardling," Lambert chimed in, his attempt at levity falling flat in the face of the situation's gravity.
"Jaskier can't be dead," Geralt repeated, his voice wrought with disbelief and denial, clinging desperately to the hope that somehow, against all odds, his beloved bard would emerge unscathed.
"But how can you explain that none of us have seen him?" Yennefer pressed, her voice tinged with frustration as she pounded through Geralt's steadfast resolve.
"He can't be dead because I love him!" Geralt's declaration echoed through the room, a genuine proclamation of his unwavering affection, even as the spectre of doubt loomed large over them all.
Suddenly, amidst the tense atmosphere, a loud bang resonated through the room, drawing their attention to a nearby table where something had collided. The bang shattering the silence jolted them from their grim reverie.
Then, amidst the tension and uncertainty, a delicate fragrance enveloped the room, weaving its way through the air like a gentle melody. Wildflowers and honeysuckles intertwined, their sweet aroma mingling with an undercurrent of apprehension, casting an ethereal atmosphere over the space.
Driven by instinct, Geralt followed the intoxicating scent, each step guided by an unseen force drawing him closer to the elusive source. Initially, it seemed as though nothing tangible lay before him, but as his outstretched hand made contact with an unseen form, he knew he had found what he sought.
"Found you," Geralt declared softly, relief flooding his voice as he realized he had located Jaskier, his missing bard.
In the ensuing chaos, disbelief and confusion reigned as each group member grappled with the surreal nature of the situation. Doubts lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of wildflowers, as they attempted to ascertain the truth of Jaskier's invisibility.
"You're shaking," Geralt observed, concern lacing his words as he enveloped Jaskier in a protective embrace, acutely aware of the bard's trembling form.
"Here," Vesemir offered, hastily draping fur around the invisible figure, creating a visible outline that served as a tangible reminder of Jaskier's presence.
"How did you become invisible?" Eskel queried, his curiosity piqued by the enigmatic circumstances surrounding Jaskier's predicament.
A silent pause followed, punctuated only by a knock echoing through the room, prompting a collective realization that Jaskier could not communicate verbally.
"You can't talk?" Yennefer ventured, seeking confirmation through a series of yes-or-no questions.
As the questions mounted, each group member sought to unravel the mystery of Jaskier's invisibility, probing for answers with a mixture of concern and fascination.
"Did you get cursed?" Eskel inquired, his brow furrowed with concern for his friend's well-being.
Surprisingly, two knocks signalled Jaskier's affirmation, sparking speculation among the group.
"You read something in the library," Geralt surmised, recalling Jaskier's penchant for scholarly pursuits.
A single knock confirmed his suspicions, prompting Yennefer to retrieve a book from the library in search of answers.
"Is this the book you read?" she asked, holding the tome aloft for Jaskier's unseen gaze.
One knock affirmed her query, yet Jaskier's response was unexpected when Yennefer suggested a simple solution to reverse the spell.
Two knocks signalled his reluctance to return to visibility, leaving the group perplexed and uncertain about how to proceed.
"Do you want to stay invisible?" Geralt questioned, his voice tinged with confusion as he sought to understand Jaskier's unspoken desires.
A single knock provided the answer, leaving the group to grapple with the implications of Jaskier's unexpected revelation.
Geralt's brows furrowed in dismay as he processed Jaskier's unexpected response. "Why would you want to stay invisible?" he pressed his tone, a mixture of concern and bewilderment.
A tense silence settled over the room as all eyes turned towards the invisible bard, awaiting an explanation that seemed as elusive as the bard himself.
Finally, after an eternity, a solitary knock resonated through the room, conveying Jaskier's unspoken reluctance to divulge the reasons behind his decision.
"But why?" Ciri interjected, her youthful curiosity breaking the heavy silence. "What's so appealing about being invisible?"
Another knock followed, leaving the group far from understanding Jaskier's motivations.
"Perhaps it's not a matter of preference," Yennefer mused, her tone thoughtful as she considered the possibilities. "There could be deeper reasons behind Jaskier's choice."
"Like what?" Lambert scoffed, his skepticism evident. What could possibly compel someone to choose invisibility over being seen?"
Geralt's gaze softened as he regarded the invisible form of his beloved bard, a pang of empathy stirring within him. "Maybe he's hiding," he suggested quietly, his words carrying a weight of understanding from his struggles with acceptance and belonging.
"Hiding from what?" Eskel inquired, his expression puzzled as he tried to piece together the puzzle before them.
"From everything," Geralt replied, his voice tinged with sorrow. "From the world, from himself... perhaps even from us."
A heavy silence descended upon the room, laden with unspoken thoughts and unexplored emotions. Each group member grappled with their interpretations of Jaskier's invisibility, haunted by the uncertainty of what lay beneath the surface.
"We can't force him to change if he doesn't want to," Vesemir spoke up, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom earned through years of experience. "But we can offer our support, whatever he decides."
Nods of agreement rippled through the group as they silently resolved to stand by Jaskier, whatever path he chose. Amid the uncertainty, their bond remained steadfast, a beacon of solidarity amidst the shadows of uncertainty.
As they settled into a tense yet determined calm, Geralt's hand found its way to the invisible form beside him, offering silent reassurance of his unwavering presence.
"I don't know what to say," Geralt murmured, his voice heavy with regret as he gingerly attempted to position the invisible bard on his lap. The furs shifted beneath his touch, betraying Jaskier's silent presence.
"You were always better at talking than I was," Geralt continued, his words falling into the space with a hollow echo. The one-sided conversation felt increasingly futile, the absence of Jaskier's voice a stark reminder of their fractured connection. "But maybe if I had talked to you earlier, none of this would have happened."
"I never know what to say when I'm around you," Geralt confessed, his voice tinged with frustration as he struggled to articulate his thoughts. "It's like the words escape my brain." Despite his uncertainty, he resolved to try something new. "Yen told me about Rience. Is that who you want to hide from?"
There were no knocks in response, but Geralt could sense the dampness against his chest, a silent testament to Jaskier's tears.
"I should have been there to protect you," Geralt whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I should have been there for you more."
"You were so young when we met, not much older than Ciri is now," Geralt reminisced softly, his gaze fixed on the invisible form nestled against him. The memory of their first encounter lingered vividly in his mind – a chance meeting with a young bard whose unyielding spirit had captured his attention from the start.
"I thought that if I scared you enough, you would just go away, but you stayed," Geralt recalled with a mixture of fondness and regret, his voice tinged with a hint of disbelief at Jaskier's unwavering determination.
"Even when I didn't deserve you," Geralt confessed, his words barely more than a whisper as he grappled with the weight of his past mistakes. "I'm sorry for making you feel like you had to hide from the world."
As the tears continued to flow, a silent testament to Jaskier's unspoken pain, Geralt reached out, offering reassurance in the only way he knew how. "But I want you to know that I'll be with you no matter what you decide," he vowed, his voice unwavering in its sincerity. "Know that I'll always love you."
Leaning down, Geralt pressed a gentle kiss to what he believed to be Jaskier's head, his heart heavy with emotion.
"I love you," Jaskier's voice suddenly pierced the silence, accompanied by the subtle rustling of movement beneath the blanket.
With a sense of anticipation, Geralt watched as Jaskier's head emerged from its invisible shroud, revealing the familiar features of his beloved bard.
"I see you," Geralt declared with a warm smile, his eyes alight with relief and love as he beheld Jaskier's visible form again.