Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" Jaskier asked, fidgeting with his bead necklace and staring at the open gates of Oxenfurt from a distance.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed.

"Thank you, darling. Very insightful."

"You're going to go there no matter what." Geralt shrugged.

"Mmhmm, that's true," Jaskier said, starting to pet Roach to calm himself. "I need to make an appearance after all the winter months I spent with you at Kaer Morhen so people know I'm still alive despite the way I looked last summer. And I need to extend the lease on my storage. I'm not going to have my belongings sold as collateral."

"It'll be fine. It's not like we're settling down there," Geralt said, watching him with hidden concern.

"Yeah, definitely not," Jaskier agreed.

He used to absolutely adore Oxenfurt. Still did. But so much of what he had loved about the city was now a source of anxiety and dread. It'd be impossible to keep an eye on everything with so many strangers and too much noise, something happening constantly as the city bustled with never-ending festivities. Not to mention that he was rather famous there. People recognized him just by sight and right now it didn't feel flattering, only uncomfortable and mildly threatening.

He wasn't looking forward to people noticing each and every difference between how he had been and now.

The cropped hair, thinner frame, and the dark bruises underneath his eyes that refused to leave completely regardless of how he slept were obvious. But not the ones he was most worried about. That'd be all the changes in his behavior he wouldn't be able to hide.

Still, hopefully things would go smoother now that he had a better control over his problems than last summer. The anxiety, fluctuating touch aversion, and depression hadn't left him but they were so much easier to manage. Getting panic attacks and flashbacks was rarer. The memories of king Marden were less sharp. The deceivingly innocent touches didn't echo endlessly nor did the bruises. The guilt of having gotten Geralt hurt and almost killed wasn't as encompassing. Existing in general was far easier despite it not having been even a year yet.

Taking a deep breath, Jaskier said, "Let's go."

"Want to ride Roach like last time?" Geralt asked, glancing at the steady flow of pedestrians passing them.

"I think I'll be fine walking as long as I can stay really close to you and Roach," Jaskier said, starting to lead the mare. "That should be enough to make sure no one will accidentally touch me."

With a nod Geralt fell in step right next to Jaskier.

It did help. Made the increasing amount of people bearable. Made it easier to not let fear sweep him away despite the way his heart started racing as they passed the gates and entered the busy streets of Oxenfurt. There was too much happening to keep an eye on everything. Too much noise to focus on any single sound.

"Jaskier, everything is alright. Nothing is going to happen to you."

Aside from Geralt's voice apparently.

"...Yeah. Just— Just a lot happening at once. Hard to focus," Jaskier mumbled, doing his best not to tighten his grip on Roach's reins. She didn't deserve having her bit tugged.

"You're doing good," Geralt said steadily. "The Song and Rose isn't far now. Then we can stable Roach and get a room. You'll be able to calm down there before we do anything else."

"I like that plan," Jaskier said, unable to keep his gaze from flitting around nervously and his sentences from getting choppier. "Calm will be nice. Having a moment before performing. If there's any slots free for tonight. Which I doubt. It's pretty late."

"We have more than enough to pay for the room and stabling," Geralt reminded him.

That too helped. Took some of the pressure away. He wouldn't be failing even if he couldn't strike a deal for their boarding right from the start.

It'd be fine.

He'd be fine.

It didn't take long to reach the inn and take care of Roach despite the way each minute stretched into hours and each step from the stable to the inn's front door took miles to cross. For a moment Jaskier hovered his hand by the handle before he pulled the door open, letting the familiar sounds of music and chatter spill out to the street.

Squaring his shoulders and doing his best to smooth his expression, Jaskier stepped in. Trusting Geralt to stay right behind him to make sure no one would be able to grab or surprise him, he headed to the counter.

It was a relief Karolina was behind it. Talking to a friend should make things easier despite being familiar with all the staff.

And this time he wouldn't accept any possible offer to spend the night with her. Wouldn't need Geralt to get him out of the situation. He refused to let himself freeze again. Whether or not he'd actually be able to do it was a different question. One he didn't want to contemplate.

"Jaskier! It's been ages since last time. Nice to see you too, Geralt," Karolina greeted them with a smile. The way she took in his appearance was still impossible to miss.

"Hello, Karolina," Jaskier said, glad to be able to muster a small smile in return despite his churning nerves. "We'd like a room with a bed wide enough for both of us and we have Roach with us like usual."

"That's easy enough to arrange," Karolina said, smile widening. "Tymon was right then about you two finally getting together?"

That was the one rumor Jaskier was glad had gotten around. Would make life a little easier regardless of the less than stellar fidelity in his past relationships.

"Yeah."

"Congratulations. You're probably looking to perform like always?" Karolina asked, changing the topic.

"Yes. Are there any open spots for tonight?"

"No, not tonight but I should be able to squeeze you in for tomorrow and from then on there's some slots to choose from," Karolina said apologetically.

"That's fine, I expected there wouldn't be any way for me to play tonight. We'll just pay then," Jaskier said, gripping the lute case's strap slung over his shoulder hard enough for his knuckles to turn white as he focused on not starting to frantically survey the tavern. He could practically feel the curious looks they were garnering.

Which was nothing out of the ordinary. He and Geralt always drew stares no matter where they were. They were a strange duo after all. But this felt different, knowing many recognized him.

Letting Geralt take over the transaction to make sure he wouldn't be touched while paying and receiving the keys, Jaskier silently counted his breaths to make sure they'd stay calm.

There still were eyes on them.

The moment Geralt finished, they headed upstairs to find their room. The lock clicking behind them was the most beautiful sound Jaskier had heard in a good while.

"It's good I can perform from tomorrow on," Jaskier said, stifling an apology as he placed his lute case and saddlebags down. Not being able to play wasn't his fault, it simply was too late in the evening for there to be any free slots. He just needed to remember it. Besides, Geralt hated all the unnecessary apologies that still kept escaping him.

"Are you alright?" Geralt asked, watching Jaskier sit down on the bed.

"A bit anxious." Jaskier shrugged. "It's kind of disconcerting to be somewhere I'm famous. Been a while since people have recognized me just from looks. And there's so many people around in general. I'll be fine, though. It's not nearly as bad as last visit, I just need some time to get accustomed."

"Hmmm."

"It really isn't. I don't feel like I'm about to shatter into a million pieces or even cry," Jaskier said, patting the mattress next to him as an invitation.

One which Geralt immediately accepted.

"Could I get a hug?" Jaskier requested.

That too was immediately granted.

Everything felt better, a bit safer, in Geralt's gentle embrace. Like there was nothing but love in the world, no reason he had to stay vigilant. He could just be and bask in the closeness. The months of being in a relationship with Geralt hadn't yet made the marvel of it disappear, not after all the years he had spent silently loving him. Not when he still had trouble accepting he deserved Geralt.

But Geralt had made his decision, just like he had made so long ago.

"You're doing well," Geralt said quietly, thumb rubbing familiar circles on Jaskier's shoulder blade. "Just let me know if it's starting to get too much and I'll get you out of whatever is happening. I don't fucking care about appearing rude or controlling."

"You're being incredibly sweet. And worried," Jaskier said, smiling softly. "I swear I'm not feeling anywhere as anxious and panicked as last time. I know I scared you with my reactions back then."

"You didn't," Geralt said, the minute tightening of the hug belaying his protest.

"Definitely scared myself," Jaskier said, deciding to ignore the lie. "But sure, I'll try to let you know if things get too overwhelming. You're also welcome to take action if I simply freeze and can't do anything about it."

"Good."

"Mmhmm."

After a few more seconds Jaskier leaned back to break the hug and lifted his hand to hover next to Geralt's cheek. Getting a nod, he softly cupped it and moved closer again.

"A kiss?" Jaskier whispered.

"Yes," Geralt said just as quietly, leaning in until their lips were almost brushing and letting Jaskier initiate the kiss.

It was light and tender, not much more than a caress. It was everything Jaskier wanted. The gentleness Geralt kept showing him was breathtaking in itself.

"I love you," Jaskier said as they separated.

"Love you too," Geralt said, just watching him.

As amusing as Geralt cursing and choking on the words at first had been, actually hearing them was so much better. After all, he had waited for years to hear them, had waited for them even after getting together.

Knowing what Geralt was about to say, Jaskier stood up and checked his doublet was neatly buttoned shut and not showing more skin than absolutely necessary. "Let's get dinner. My treat."

"You don't have to pay," Geralt said.

"I want to. You keep paying far too often," Jaskier said, following Geralt out of the door and towards the stairs.

"No I don't."

"You do and—" Jaskier stopped, startled.

"What is it?" Geralt asked, looking around for threats.

"Essi," Jaskier breathed.

"What?"

"It's Essi. Singing. Don't you recognize her voice?" Jaskier asked, not sure if he wanted to hurry up and see her or to return to their room so he wouldn't have to face her.

He was descending the stairs before he even realized moving.

At the first glance he froze again. The foot of the stairs didn't grant a good view but it didn't matter. There she was.

Essi Daven. Little Eye. His Poppet, the closest thing he had for a little sister.

Sitting on a stool in the middle of the stage, singing a familiar ballad and enchanting the audience with her skill and voice.

He couldn't stop staring.

He had known there'd be a chance they'd meet but now that their paths crossed, he didn't know what to do. He had missed her. He didn't want her to see him. He wanted to hug her and never let go. He wanted to leave.

What he did was to walk to the bar when Geralt urged him to move.

Somehow Geralt ended up paying.

He couldn't stop staring at Essi. Not even as their eyes met. Not even as Geralt led him to a table and said something.

There was a snap by his ear.

Glancing at Geralt, he realized that he had snapped his fingers to get his attention. It was kind that it hadn't been a handclap. That would have made people turn to look at them.

"I'm not dissociating," Jaskier said quietly, not wanting to be overheard.

"Hmmm."

"I'm really not. Just... I wasn't prepared to see her," Jaskier said, starting to fidget with his bead necklace. "I'm fine, though. Nothing to worry about."

Impossible. Geralt constantly worried about him. And the worst thing was that he constantly did make it warranted.

"If you're sure," Geralt said, studying him keenly.

"I am."

"Good."

There wasn't much more to say. And Geralt's glare spoke loud enough when Jaskier only poked at his dinner once it was brought, making him actually eat slowly.

Essi's performance was beautiful.

Jaskier wished he could enjoy it as much as he wanted to, as it deserved.

Thunderous applause accompanied Essi off the stage. Mostly ignoring her audience, she shouldered her lute and hurried towards them.

"Jaskier, Geralt!" Essi greeted them, blowing the blond lock of hair falling over her eye away only to have it settle right where it had been. Looking at Jaskier critically, she continued, "You look like someone dragged you out of a gutter. I hope your music hasn't had a similar fate?"

Jaskier knew he was expected to snark right back. He could only silently stare at Essi.

"I see someone has stolen your voice. Such a sad fate for a bard," Essi sighed. Turning to Geralt, she said, "You should take a contract on that. Unless you're enjoying the rare quiet?"

"Essi—" Geralt started.

The haughty expression melting away, Essi gave a bright laugh and moved to hug Jaskier. "I've missed you!"

In a flash Geralt sprang up and grabbed Essi by her arm and waist, tugging her to his chest to keep her away.

"I've missed you too?" Essi said, looking at Geralt wide-eyed and faint blush appearing on her cheeks.

"Don't touch him," Geralt whispered in her ear, letting go of Essi and stepping back.

"What? Why?" Essi asked, looking perplexed and trying in vain to brush the stubborn curl away from her eye.

"Let's go to our room," Jaskier mumbled, unable to meet Essi's eyes as he stood up. "Too many people here."

And most were staring.

He had no idea what or how much to tell Essi but it was more than he wanted strangers to hear. It'd be easier to talk to her there in general, away from all the noise and movement.

"Sure." Essi nodded, starting to follow them.

Her curiosity was almost a tangible thing in the air by the time Geralt locked the door behind them.

"Take a seat," Jaskier said, sitting down and gesturing at the other chair.

"What's going on?" Essi asked, gently placing her lute by Jaskier's before doing as requested.

"You haven't heard any rumors?" Geralt asked, standing next to Jaskier and crossing his arms.

"I may be good at gathering information but I arrived only last evening and haven't had anyone tell me anything relevant. Not that I even knew there was something to unearth. Are you sick?" Essi asked, discomfort flashing underneath her concern.

"No, not like you think," Jaskier said quickly to put her at ease.

"Not like I think?"

Fuck.

He should have worded it differently despite his haste to dissuade her fear of diseases.

"Jaskier?"

"Some things have changed since last time you saw him," Geralt said once Jaskier just kept staring at the floor and fidgeting with his beads.

"Stop being cryptic and start explaining," Essi ordered, narrowing her eyes. "I can see perfectly well that something has happened."

"I— I'm not okay," Jaskier said quietly. "Better than I was but..."

'Not okay' felt so insufficient. It was so much worse than that but he didn't want to worry Essi more than he already was.

Still unable to look Essi in the eye, he stared at the blue pearl nestled in the center of an intricate silver flower that rested between her clavicles. It truly was a beautiful pendant. Also reminded him that he should let her know that he was with Geralt. He knew it'd pain her but she also was perfectly aware that she wasn't the only one with feelings for Geralt in this room. Aware that Geralt had never loved her the way she wished for.

He also knew she'd soon enough be happy for him.

Taking a deep breath that did nothing to calm his nerves, Jaskier said, "There was a feast I played at last summer and it went to hell. For me and Geralt both. Mostly me, though. It's— I'm still not over what happened. Doing much better by now but... It hasn't been easy."

"Oh."

Essi's eyes were wide and so concerned when Jaskier managed to glance at her face. He wished it wasn't him causing her to make that expression. She was supposed to be happy and carefree, not worrying about him.

"Is that why Geralt told me not to touch you?" Essi asked, a strange note in her voice.

"...Yeah." Jaskier nodded, furtively blinking tears away and hoping Essi wasn't noticing them or drawing conclusions. "It's a bit convoluted but I don't like being touched by anyone but Geralt. Especially suddenly. I don't... Uh. I don't react well to it. Please don't do it."

"I won't," Essi promised. Flipping her curl out of the way, she tried to continue, "I still want to—"

"Aside from that I'm just a bit anxious and depressed but who's not, world being what it is," Jaskier said quickly, giving a wavering smile. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"You just said you're not okay," Essi pointed out, lifting her chin and crossing her arms. "I know your habit of backpedaling the moment you touch on something serious and I'm not letting you do that to me. I'm your friend, not some town crier who's going to blab to everyone."

"Essi. Don't," Geralt said sharply. "Jaskier doesn't have to tell you anything. I know you want to help but pushing him isn't the way."

"You know everything, don't you?" Essi stated, studying Geralt.

"Yes."

"Good. Someone needs to know what's going on with Jaskier. He's actually far worse at talking about his real feelings than you'd think despite speaking nonstop," Essi said, the bite leaving her voice.

It was true. Jaskier could talk for hours without actually saying anything. Had at least. Somewhere along the months he had learned how to be silent. Not so long ago Geralt would have called it a blessing, now it was anything but.

"He is," Geralt agreed. "Still, don't try to dig for more information than what he's comfortable sharing. It's only going to make things worse."

"I'm right here, you know," Jaskier muttered.

"Something really bad happened, then? Things didn't just go wrong?" Essi asked, ignoring him.

"Yes."

"Alright. I promise not to keep pestering either of you," Essi said, blowing the lock of hair away from her eye, "as long as you know that you really can talk to me, that is. I care about you, both of you, and want you to be happy."

There it was.

One more issue that had to be taken care of immediately.

"Essi, there's something else you need to know," Geralt said, bracing himself.

He could already see her reaction, how the shock and hurt would twist her face before she'd be able to smooth her expression.

Back when they first met he hadn't known what to do about her crush. At least the long talk had made Essi aware of his lack of feelings for her, aware in advance that the moment they had ended up sharing had been only physical for him. That while he felt affection for her, it wasn't the kind of love she yearned for. Afterwards he had simply brushed away the signs of lingering attraction she had shown whenever they met.

He couldn't just ignore them now.

He didn't want to hurt her either.

Watching the iridescent pearl of Essi's pendant and smelling the verbena of her perfume, Geralt said, "Jaskier and I are together, have been since last summer."

A small noise made him look up just in time to see Essi's eyes widen and fill with tears.

"That's nice. Congratulations. I need to go put my lute away," Essi said wetly, jumping up and grabbing her instrument quickly. "I'll see you both soon."

"Poppet—" Jaskier tried, barely managing to reach out to Essi before she was already closing the door after her.

The running steps echoed loudly in Geralt's ears.

"Fuck," Geralt sighed.

"She'll be fine. Essi has known for years that I love you," Jaskier said, sounding subdued. "She just needs to come to grips with the fact that something finally happened between us. I'm not sure if she thought we'd ever actually get together, not with how glaringly one-sided it seemed to be."

"Are you alright?" Geralt asked, observing Jaskier.

"I too will be."

"And at the moment?"

"Probably not."

"Hmmm."

"What about you?" Jaskier asked, finally lifting his eyes from the floor. "I know you care about Essi despite it not being in the way she wishes."

It was a good question.

Essi was... She was admirable. Talented and outspoken, passionate and fearless. Someone he wished only the best. He also wasn't that.

Sleeping with her hadn't been a mistake but he also had never done so again. Had felt like they had resolved their conflicting feelings and expectations. Maybe it hadn't been as clear-cut to Essi as he had thought.

"I don't want to cause her distress," Geralt said after a pause. "Not that there's anything else we could have done."

"Yeah. She needed to know as soon as possible since she hadn't heard about it," Jaskier said, tugging his boots off. Once he had moved to lie on the bed, he continued, "I'm not sure if I did the right thing, not actually explaining anything about the feast. I just couldn't tell her about Marden, about what he did and wanted to do. She's my little sister. She's not supposed to worry about me."

There Jaskier went again, agonizing over whether or not he owed others sharing his trauma.

It was frustrating seeing him do it again and again.

"It's your choice to tell just as little or much as you want to. Not anyone else's," Geralt said, unable to keep his tone from turning sharper.

"She knows me. Will notice each and every change once we spend longer together."

"So what? Like you said, she knows you. She's not going to turn her back on you just because you don't want to hug her and are more cautious," Geralt said.

"Cautious. That's a pretty way of putting it, Jaskier scoffed, hiding his eyes with his forearm. "Makes it sound like I could go for a stroll alone among all the people without getting a panic attack within a minute."

"Stop catastrophizing. She won't stop loving you. Not because of your trauma, not because of our relationship."

"I'm tired," Jaskier mumbled, not moving his arm.

Narrowing his eyes, Geralt asked, "Do you have a headache again?"

"...Might be getting one."

"Take a painkiller and go to sleep then," Geralt said, going to rummage through the potion bag for the medicine. "Unless you'd like a sleeping potion instead?"

"I think that'd be better actually. I'm not sure if I can relax enough to sleep with the way my nerves thrum from the conversation and the general anxiety of being here," Jaskier said, sitting up. "Being well rested tomorrow should make everything far easier to handle."

"Agreed," Geralt said, gently tossing the vial onto the mattress next to Jaskier. "I'll step out for a moment so you can change."

"Thanks."

"Hmmm."

Leaning against the wall in the hallway, Geralt listened to the music drifting from downstairs. Just some unknown bard, not Essi singing. Hopefully she wasn't taking the last of her hope for a relationship crumbling too hard. It would never have happened regardless of whether or not he and Jaskier would have gotten together.

And hopefully Jaskier would continue handling Oxenfurt far better than last visit.

He didn't want to see Jaskier break apart yet again, overwhelmed by everything. He had been doing good lately too. No panic attacks in a couple of weeks, last flashback more than a month ago.

He didn't dare to trust that it'd stay like that. There simply were too many possible triggers here.

But for now Jaskier was safely in their room and by the sounds of it done with changing his clothes for sleepwear. Getting the go-ahead, Geralt returned to the room.

"Are you sure that's enough to stop us from tangling together during the night?" Geralt asked, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched Jaskier pile both of their bedrolls in the middle of the large bed and prop them in place by a couple of saddlebags.

"I just want to make extra sure it won't happen," Jaskier said, smiling ruefully. "Sorry that it leaves way less space for us."

"It's fine."

"We can lower that fortress a bit tomorrow night," Jaskier said, making the last adjustments and slipping underneath covers.

"I really don't mind," Geralt said, changing his shirt.

"Goodnight, love," Jaskier said, drinking the potion and drawing his blanket up to his ears.

"Sleep well," Geralt said quietly, listening to Jaskier's slowing breathing as he finished getting ready for bed.

"I hate the thought of going out to the streets," Jaskier mumbled, pushing a piece of sausage around his plate despite the way Geralt kept staring at him disapprovingly. "And no, I can't stay inside so don't offer that. I need to go to the university to speak with dean Ignazy to make sure he didn't take my pleasantries as an agreement to teach this year. I'm relatively sure I said something about it being a pleasure being part of the staff."

Probably. The short meeting was rather foggy, most of him having been focused on not getting a panic attack.

"I'll stay with you," Geralt said, still scowling at the half eaten breakfast.

"Thanks, darling."

"Hmmm."

"I think I'll loan some more strings and writing supplies while we're there," Jaskier said, feeling a bit cheerier.

"Steal you mean," Geralt said, finally looking up.

"I've paid for them in advance with my tuition," Jaskier said, standing up and ignoring the small displeased sound Geralt made as he abandoned his breakfast.

"You haven't paid it in years."

"With the cost of the academy I should be allowed to use their storages for the rest of my life," Jaskier said, handing Geralt an empty bag and shouldering his lute case. "You could probably buy a farm house and some land with the cost of graduating from the Faculty of Trouvèreship and Poetry."

"The fuck?" Geralt asked, freezing in place and clearly taken aback.

"...I don't know how much farms cost currently, though."

"Why the fuck did you compare it to them then?" Geralt asked.

"Because both are expensive?" Jaskier shrugged.

"Start stealing more notebooks. That academy is a damn front for robbing people," Geralt said. "Did you get a scholarship or something back then?"

"Something like that," Jaskier said, uncomfortable with the question. But having his parents sponsor his studies sort of counted. Maybe. Probably not but he hadn't paid a crown for his tuition so technically he wasn't lying.

"Hmmm."

"Let's go?" Jaskier said, heading to the front door and looking back to make sure Geralt was right behind him.

He was, just like he had known. It still helped. People tended to give wider berth to Geralt than others, most not wanting to get too close to a Witcher. As rude as it was, it did make things easier since he too would be given more space as long as Geralt was right by him.

"Let me know if you need to move somewhere more secluded," Geralt said quietly as they entered the busy streets.

"Sure," Jaskier said, doing his best to ignore the mass of people around them.

He was safe. He was. No one was even interested in them, just hurrying to their own destinations and taking care of shopping.

He too needed to focus only on getting to the university.

"This isn't too bad," Jaskier remarked just to say something.

"Good," Geralt said, kindly ignoring the faint tremor in Jaskier's voice. "It's not a long way to the academy, just a few more minutes. It's going to be quiet there."

"I know. It'll be nice to take a little breather before continuing to the dean's office. Hopefully he has time to talk and I won't have to reserve an appointment."

"We'll just go there again if—" Geralt cut himself off, stopping suddenly.

"What is it?" Jaskier asked, cold dread filling his chest.

"Something has happened," Geralt said, nodding towards a crowd on a nearby riverbank that guards were trying to herd away. "Do you mind if I go take a look?"

He did.

But being suddenly even more scared didn't mean he should act on it. He'd just grit his teeth and hope no one would accidentally bump into him.

"Of course not. Might get you a contract," Jaskier said, gripping his beads tightly and following closely after Geralt.

"Go away! This is guard business, not some spectacle!" A young guardsman yelled, trying to disperse the curious onlookers attempting to catch a glimpse of whatever was hidden by the other guards and a tarp. Turning to Geralt looking frustrated, he said, "You too. Back off!"

"I'm a Witcher, might be of help," Geralt said evenly. "What has happened?"

"I don't give a rat's ass," the guard bit out.

"Tomek, stand down," an older guard ordered, walking up to Geralt. "A Witcher, eh? Could actually use your expertise. Come."

Nodding, Geralt stepped towards the riverbank only to stop when the guard frowned at Jaskier and said, "Not you. Go back to the street with others."

"He's with me," Geralt snapped.

"Fine," the guard sighed.

Jaskier started walking as close to Geralt's back as he could without touching and hoping he'd be forgotten about. He really, really, didn't want people watching his every move, waiting for him to fuck up so they could do something about his unwanted presence.

"I'm sergeant Luiz," the older guard introduced himself. Quieter, he explained, "We've had a series of suspicious deaths lately. The victims haven't been pretty from the start but whoever or whatever is killing them is getting more brutal and the time between kills shorter."

"This is the newest one?" Geralt asked, kneeling by the bloody tarp.

"Unless someone has found another one elsewhere in the city." Luiz nodded, removing the covering.

Jaskier slammed his eyes shut, swallowing bile. The short look had been enough, the afterimage of the corpse playing behind his eyelids.

He wished he hadn't caught even a glimpse.

Chapter Text

Hearing Jaskier gag and swallow, Geralt glanced back at him. Satisfied that despite the whiteness of Jaskier's face and the eyes clenched shut he seemed to be fine, he started to study the corpse.

Jaskier's reaction was not surprising.

The victim seemed to be a man, probably not more than thirty, although the cuts and scratches disfiguring his face made pinpointing the age slightly more difficult.

"Has anyone moved him?" Geralt asked, leaning closer to see the multiple wounds on the torso better; Deep puncture wounds that turned into long cuts, crisscrossing everywhere and revealing far too much of the innards. Whatever the killer was, it definitely wasn't methodical. It did however make recognizing what had caused them unclear. There were multiple that were evenly paced, similar to what claws would cause, but not all. Nothing a monster with paws could have caused. A vampire or similar creature with enough dexterity could however have made them. Or a human with a knife and enough time and determination to practically carve someone open aside from also clawing at the man's face with long nails.

"Yes. The body was originally floating near the riverbank. The person who found him dragged him to land," Luiz said, grimacing as Geralt dug his fingers into a wound to open it slightly more. "What in god's name are you doing?"

"Checking if there's any residue in the wounds."

"And is there?"

"No."

"Is that good?"

"It doesn't give a new lead," Geralt said. "How long ago was he found?"

"Less than thirty minutes. Do you think those water monsters —drowners?— have caused some of the damage?" Luiz asked.

"There aren't any bite marks so it's highly unlikely. However, the water has washed away any useful scents," Geralt said, glancing at Jaskier to make sure he was alright.

Still pale, still keeping his eyes closed.

But his breathing was steady despite the faster than normal pace. Things were well enough for now.

"Has the body been identified yet?" Geralt asked Luiz.

"Not yet. We'll take him to the morgue once you're done. He'll have no dignity in death if we keep him where every passerby can gawk at him," Luiz said, frowning at the crowd refusing to completely disperse. "We've already had to move two other victims within a week there."

"I can continue investigating these deaths if we agree on the payment," Geralt said, quickly rinsing his dirtied glove in the river.

"Witchers never work for free, eh?" Luiz said.

"Do you?" Geralt asked, staring at him blandly.

"Fair point."

It was a simple matter to bargain a more than an acceptable price, the sergeant apparently out of his depth and able to see it. Hopefully it'd keep cooperating as smooth as possible. Having to strong-arm relevant information out of guards who refused to believe that he knew better than them was always fucking frustrating.

"I'll visit the morgue and interview the person who found him later today," Geralt promised, returning to Jaskier's side. More quietly he asked, "Jaskier, are you alright?"

"Mmhmm."

Not the most encouraging answer, especially since Jaskier was hugging himself and still keeping his eyes closed.

"Do you want to go back to the inn? We don't have an actual appointment with the dean."

"I... Yeah. Please," Jaskier whispered, relaxing his stance a bit.

"Let's go."

They were almost at The Song and Rose when Jaskier spoke again, "I'm sorry for dragging you away from the investigation just so you can walk me back."

"Corpses aren't going anywhere and I don't mind walking with you," Geralt said.

"I should be able to—"

"No. There's no 'should be'," Geralt cut Jaskier off. "Things are what they are and your limits are what they currently are. This is not the right moment for you to try braving this many strangers alone, outside at that."

"You're right. That'd be a bad idea," Jaskier sighed. "It's just frustrating, being a hindrance."

"You're not," Geralt said, opening the inn's front door and letting Jaskier enter.

"If you say so."

Biting down a retort, Geralt headed to the counter to get boiling water before they continued to their room.

"I'll make you tea," Geralt said, placing the kettle on the table and fetching the herbal blend from a saddlebag.

"Thanks," Jaskier said quietly, removing his boots and sitting down on the bed to lean against the headboard.

"Can I join you?"

"Please."

"How are you?" Geralt asked, sitting as close to Jaskier as he dared. "And don't blow me off."

"Disturbed. Scared. Nauseated," Jaskier said, staring at the ceiling. "That was the most gruesome thing I've ever seen and I've seen a lot while traveling with you."

"Hmmm."

"...I really don't want to follow you around for this contract. Not that I've done that basically at all since last summer," Jaskier continued, still avoiding looking at Geralt. "But this time... I really, really, don't want to. Wouldn't want to even if the feast didn't happen and I was fine."

"You don't have to, never do," Geralt said seriously. "It has always been your choice aside from the times when it's been too dangerous for you to join me."

And it made two of them.

He didn't want Jaskier coming along with him for this. There'd simply be death, mutilated bodies, and most likely nothing but examining them for now unless one of the older victims had more discernible wounds or other clues. As much as he disliked it, he might not be able to make much headway before the next attack.

"Geralt, don't end up like that man," Jaskier whispered, voice breaking. "I don't want to be called in to identify you."

"I don't plan to," Geralt said, wishing he could promise Jaskier it wouldn't happen.

But he couldn't nor did Jaskier want empty words of comfort. His safety was never guaranteed. There always was a chance that he wouldn't make it, that it'd be the last hunt he'd ever take on.

"Thank you," Jaskier said, turning to him. "Hug?"

"As many as you want," Geralt said, opening his arms.

It felt good, holding Jaskier and feeling how his racing heart calmed down. Being able to smell the sunshine and green spring Jaskier's scent reminded him of.

The tea had definitely finished steeping long ago but Geralt didn't feel inclined to let go.

Jaskier wished he didn't have to let go of Geralt ever again. He was love and safety and home. The most important thing in his life. Sadly he couldn't keep Geralt from his work much longer. Trying to find whatever was killing people was too important for Geralt to tarry for no reason.

"I'm pretty sure my tea has steeped," Jaskier said, not lifting his face from Geralt's shirt.

"It has," Geralt agreed, staying still.

"We should probably move."

"Probably."

Since Geralt wasn't taking the initiative, Jaskier sat up straight with a sigh. He already felt cold without Geralt's arms around him.

"I'll bring it to you," Geralt said, getting up to pour the tea.

Cradling the warm mug Geralt handed him and watching him start checking his gear, Jaskier said, "Stay safe and don't worry about me. I'll be fine. I'm not even planning on stepping out unless you don't return in time for my performance."

"Will you be alright playing without me close by?" Geralt frowned.

"There's a stage here so I don't have to get close to anyone and I'll just make up some excuse to leave immediately so I don't have to socialize afterwards. It'll be fine," Jaskier said, hoping he wouldn't be lying through his teeth.

He hadn't performed without Geralt being close in almost a year, but they weren't nearly as codependent as they had been in the beginning so there was at least a chance of him being able to do it. And probably break down and have a good long cry if not a panic attack once safely in their room again.

But that wasn't relevant.

"Hmmm."

Geralt didn't look convinced at all so Jaskier offered him a wane smile. "It will be fine."

"Don't push yourself too hard," Geralt said, buckling the sword belt. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Don't hurry on my behalf," Jaskier said. Noticing that Geralt hadn't yet put on his gloves, he reached out and asked, "Would you like a kiss on the hand?"

"Yes."

Taking Geralt's hand in his, Jaskier brushed his thumb over the familiar scars. Checking Geralt's expression once more, he placed a soft lingering kiss on the knuckles.

"Be safe, my love," Jaskier said, unwilling to let go.

"I'll do my best," Geralt promised, taking his hand back gently. It didn't take long for him to finish preparing and step out.

Everything felt suddenly cold as if Geralt had taken all the warmth with him, leaving only uncertainty and worry behind. It was stupid. Jaskier knew it. Nothing had actually changed. Closing his eyes, he tried to focus on the warm mug in his hands. It was a good sensation. Something real to ground himself with.

It had turned cold long ago when there was a knock.

"Jaskier, Geralt? Can I talk with you?" Essi called out.

"Just a moment!" Jaskier called back, quickly placing the mug on the nightstand and putting his boots on before going to unlock the door.

"Geralt isn't here but we can still talk if you want to?" Jaskier offered, letting Essi in.

"That's alright," Essi said, taking a seat without asking. Meeting Jaskier's eyes, she said, "I'm sorry for reacting so strongly yesterday. It's hard for me not to get swept away by my emotions but it wasn't proper."

"Essi, you have nothing to apologize for," Jaskier said sincerely, sitting down in the other chair. "I know you too love Geralt. Hearing that we've gotten together must have been a complete surprise. I myself wouldn't have thought it'd actually happen if asked only a year ago."

"I should be happy for you," Essi said.

Her eyes were still red-rimmed.

Jaskier wished he could hug her.

"You don't have to."

"I'm not. Not yet," Essi agreed. "But I will be."

"Thank you," Jaskier said softly. He had been sure she'd eventually be so but it was a relief to have been right. This tearing their friendship apart would have been incredibly painful.

"Don't thank me," Essi said sharply.

Not knowing what to say, Jaskier shrugged.

"I'm not doing you some favor or forfeiting a competition. That's not what love is, there's no forcing it. Geralt was very clear back then that he doesn't love me the way I love him and I'm not delusional enough to think he was lying," Essi continued, sharpness turning into sadness. "I do treasure the moment we shared but it was only a fleeting dream, nothing that was meant to grow and blossom."

Uncomfortable with the turn of the topic, Jaskier broke eye contact and started fidgeting with his beads.

"I'm glad you stepped away for long enough and told us to figure things out."

Jaskier wished Essi would drop the subject. He could feel his chest getting colder.

"I am jealous of how it's not just sex for you two, that you actually make love," Essi said, brushing her uncooperative lock of hair behind her ear.

Jaskier closed his eyes, hating how frankly Essi could speak her mind.

He couldn't deal with this topic. He couldn't. He should let Essi know it.

"...You haven't had sex?" Essi asked, astonished and both understanding yet utterly misreading his reaction. "You?"

"Essi, please—" Jaskier whispered, hugging himself as his breaths turned short and painful. Couldn't stop himself from folding until his forehead brushed his knees.

"Jaskier?"

He couldn't. He couldn't.

He couldn't.

Breath.

"Jaskier? What's wrong?"

The voice was wrong, didn't belong to the person whose fingers trailed down, down, down the scars on his lower back. Stopping only once meeting the towel around his hips.

He knew what was wanted of him despite having scars, despite not being perfect.

He didn't want it.

Didn't want the eyes on him.

Didn't want the deceivingly innocent touches.

Didn't want what was planned.

It hadn't gone that far.

He still couldn't breathe.

"Breathe. Jaskier, breathe."

He knew that voice.

But it wasn't Geralt. He needed Geralt. Needed to see he was alright, see he was unhurt. Not dead. Why wasn't Geralt with him? He needed him.

"Jaskier, please. You need to slow your breathing. We could do some breathing exercises together? Like we do before warming up our voices."

...That sounded familiar.

With effort Jaskier lifted his head, trying to see through his tears who was talking to him.

Golden hair and wide dark blue eyes.

He knew those eyes.

"...Essi...?"

"Yes, yes. It's me," Essi said quickly. "Jaskier, focus on me. You're breathing too fast, need to slow it down."

Oh.

That meant he was having a panic attack. Again. At least realizing it helped.

Looking around the room, Jaskier started listing things he could see, "...Bed... ...Nightstand... ...Mug..."

It was kind that Essi didn't question him, just let him continue attempting to ground himself with the familiar routine. Thankfully it started to work.

"...Hi, Essi," Jaskier croaked, doing his best to wipe the tears away with his sleeves. "Sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that."

"What was that?" Essi asked, her face almost matching his pallor.

"Panic attack," Jaskier said, unable to look at her. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizing. I may not know almost anything about them but I do know they're involuntary," Essi said. "You've never had them before."

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed, testing if his legs would support him.

Since he didn't immediately crumble, he made his way to the saddlebag by the bed. With shaking hands he fished out a small vial and drank its contents.

Knowing what Essi was about to ask, he explained, "Calming potion. Lambert —Geralt's younger brother— created the formula for me. I try not to use them often but..."

He was absolutely thrumming with nerves to the point he felt he was a hair's breadth from getting another attack. Not to mention that he had no idea when Geralt would be back and he'd have to perform soon.

And Essi's conversation topic kept circling around his head.

"Please don't— I can't—" Jaskier tried, raking his fingers through his cropped hair. It was a mistake, leaving him with the phantom sensation of it being washed.

Not trusting his legs to carry him for much longer, he returned to sit in the chair.

Thankfully Essi had backed off a bit without asking. He couldn't have her close enough to touch. He knew she wouldn't do anything but it felt impossible. He couldn't even stop tracking her every movement. Maybe he should just try to be grateful that at least it hadn't been a flashback. He doubted he'd be connected to reality by now if one had been triggered, not without Geralt helping him.

"It was because of me, wasn't it?" Essi asked, regret clear in her tone. "Because I started to talk about sex?"

Jaskier couldn't keep himself from flinching.

Hesitantly, Essi continued, "Jaskier, at that feast... Did someo—"

"Don't. Please. Don't," Jaskier said, words closer to a sob. He wouldn't be able to handle Essi finishing her question. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to handle anything else either.

He would have to.

He had a performance soon.

Geralt probably wouldn't be angry if they had to pay for another night but he had made a commitment. Thankfully Katarina hadn't been able to give him a long slot, having had to add him so suddenly.

"Okay. I won't," Essi promised seriously, gripping the skirt of her blue dress tightly. "Can I help in any way?"

He didn't want to be a bother. Essi was already so worried and spooked by him falling apart right in front of her without a warning.

"Jaskier, I really do want to help if there's something I can do."

Fidgeting with his beads, Jaskier asked haltingly, "Could you... I have a performance soon and... You don't have to but... Could you stay in the audience? As close as you can?"

"I will," Essi said resolutely.

"Thank you."

Geralt stifled a sigh, spotting the same young guard from earlier standing in front of the morgue's door.

"Witcher," the guard —Tomek if he remembered correctly— said, not bothering to hide his dislike.

"I'm here to inspect the bodies," Geralt announced. As Tomek didn't move, he said firmer, "Let me pass. I'm officially part of the investigation."

"Tch," Tomek scoffed, stepping aside.

Without a word Geralt entered the morgue.

It was dim and cool, filled with shelves, and tables where a few corpses laid. Looking around, Geralt spotted a young red haired woman tending to one.

"Shani?" Geralt asked, surprised.

"Geralt?" Shani exclaimed, turning around to look at him. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same. There's not much healing you can do for the dead," Geralt said, walking to her.

"I was asked to take a look in case I could identify the cause of the death," Shani explained. "Did you get a contract on finding the culprit?"

"This morning." Geralt nodded. "Jaskier and I arrived yesterday. We were on our way to the university when we came across the newest victim. Have you learned anything?"

"No, not yet. To put it frankly, he's an absolute mess. There's so many wounds that could have killed him that guessing which one did it is impossible. Which you probably already know if you saw him," Shani said. Smiling, she asked, "How's Jaskier? I haven't seen him in over a year."

That was a complicated question.

The longer Geralt took to answer, the dimmer Shani's smile turned.

"He's not as well as he could be," Geralt finally decided on. "It's personal so don't ask for specifics."

It might however be helpful if he could convince Jaskier to talk to Shani or even let her look him over. If nothing else, she'd probably have advice on what to do about the frequent headaches that still kept persisting.

"Alright," Shani said, frowning. Clapping her hands, she continued, "Back to business, shall we? You've seen the newest victim but you probably want to study the older ones too?"

"Yes."

"First one first?"

"Sure."

Walking deeper into the morgue, Shani said, "We aren't actually sure if the one we have here is indeed the first victim. The brutality of the kills has increased so there's a chance someone has been overlooked as unrelated to the matter. Oxenfurt is a big city which means people die constantly."

"Hmmm."

"Here he is," Shani said, gesturing at a young man.

"Has he been identified?" Geralt asked, bending down to see better. There weren't nearly as many wounds on his face which should make it easier.

"Yes. Arkadiusz Kamiński, twenty-six years old and married to Paula Kamiński, no children. A merchant with a small shop but not notably wealthy despite the high quality of his clothing. Found five days ago," Shani listed. "I'm quite sure the cause of death was a stab to the heart despite the slit throat and the other slashes."

"I agree," Geralt said after a moment. "The slashes seem too superficial and there's no signs of him having asphyxiated on his own blood. Have you measured the distance between those slashes, the ones that seem even enough to be from claws?"

"I have, they're exactly the same on each body."

"Hmmm."

That did point to a monster despite the stabs resembling knife wounds more. Perhaps a humanoid one with enough intelligence to try to obscure their work.

"Next one?" Geralt asked, moving to study another body.

"Also identified. Szlama Nowakowski, thirty-one and engaged to Tekla Szwed. One five-years-old child from a previous marriage with Tosia, maiden name Bosko. Occupation investor. He owned multiple apartments near the academy. Found two days ago behind crates in a small alley," Shani said briskly. "Most likely cause of death punctured lungs and a glancing wound to the heart from extremely deep slashes to the torso."

"Agreed, again." Geralt nodded. The chest literally carved open didn't allow for many other explanations.

"Both are young men who are reasonably well-off and in a relationship?" Geralt asked.

"As far as we know. Hard to say yet if it's coincidence or a pattern. Our third one should shed some light on the matter once we know who he is. Harder to explain away if he matches," Shani said. "They don't have similar features either aside from being more or less handsome."

"Have their families been interrogated yet?"

"I don't know." Shani shrugged. "I'm here purely for medical reasons. You'll have to talk to the sergeant about that."

"Thank you. You saved me the time spent on autopsies. I wouldn't have been able to trust any other physician not to have missed something important," Geralt said.

"That's very sweet of you," Shani teased, smiling.

"Just stating a fact. You're a skilled professional," Geralt said sincerely.

"And they say Witchers don't know how to flatter people," Shani chuckled. "Where are you staying? The Song and Rose like usual? I need to drop by at some point to see Jaskier perform."

"Yeah, The Song and Rose. We'll be staying for at least a couple of days. Jaskier has business to take care of at the academy and then there's this," Geralt said, heading to the door.

Stepping outside he was glad that differences in lighting didn't bother him as Shani squinted in the bright sunlight and shadowed her eyes with her hand.

"You done?" Tomek asked, scowling.

"For now. Where can I find the sergeant?" Geralt asked cooly.

"At the fucking barracks."

"Thank you for your kind answer," Shani snapped, following Geralt down the street. "Are you going to talk to the sergeant now?"

"Better to do it as soon as possible. I want to eat lunch with Jaskier," Geralt said.

"Oh."

"What?" Geralt asked, looking at Shani. She was suddenly grinning.

"That's interesting," Shani said.

"There's nothing interesting about lunch."

"There is when you word it like that," Shani stated, still grinning. "You don't want to have lunch, you want to have it with Jaskier. A lunch date, perhaps?"

"We didn't make plans," Geralt said, frowning.

"Ahaa!" Shani laughed.

"What?"

"You protested against having plans, not the date part. My, my. Have you finally seen the light?" Shani asked, elbowing him.

"Fuck off," Geralt said without any heat. After a moment he admitted, "...But yeah, we're together."

"Finally," Shani said. Smiling more softly, she added, "I'm glad for you two."

"Hmmm."

He too was glad.

It took only a couple more streets until they bid their goodbyes, separating. Soon enough Geralt reached his destination, the barrack's location familiar from past contracts. Entering the small dirt courtyard, he looked around trying to spot Luiz among the guards mingling around on their breaks. Not seeing the sergeant and no one paying him much mind, he walked to the door he was relatively sure led to an office.

Thankfully it was Luiz answering his knock, saving him from a search.

"I visited the morgue," Geralt said without preamble. "The wounds themselves didn't help narrowing the options much but I'm sure it's a humanoid of some kind since there's signs of knife wounds alongside claw marks. Could be a team too, I suppose. Has anyone talked to the families of the deceased?"

"Of course we have," Luiz said, looking mildy offended at the question.

"Good. Shani already told me the very basics but I'd like to hear an overview," Geralt said, sitting down when Luiz gestured at a chair. "Are there any similarities in their lives?"

"Well, they're both young men in a relationship and have some money, although Szlama Nowakowski much more so. According to their partners, they were very busy lately and stayed home less than usual. Both men had cited trouble at work as the reason," Luiz started. "They don't work in the same field and so far there's no evidence of them having known each other. Of course it's possible that their significant others simply didn't know that."

"Have you talked to Nowakowski's former wife yet?"

"Not yet." Luiz shook his head. "She's out of town but should return within the next few days according to her neighbor."

"Hmmm."

"It'll be interesting to hear what she has to say. We've also talked to the other family members but they weren't able to give much more information."

"I'd like to have the addresses so I can go talk to them myself too," Geralt requested.

"If you think it's necessary. I don't care much what you do as long as it's legal," Luiz said, starting to write down the information.

"I'll let you know when I learn something new," Geralt said, pocketing the list and exiting the office.

Jaskier really wished he didn't have to step out of the room, let alone get on a stage where he'd draw attention and be evaluated. But a promise was a promise and he needed to pull his weight.

Hopefully Geralt would return soon. It'd make things easier.

But for now he had Essi with him. That too helped. She was safe to be around. It wasn't her fault that she didn't know anything about what topics or actions to avoid. Aside from not touching. It was good she had remembered it and hadn't tried to comfort him through touch during his panic attack. It'd have made everything so much worse. He didn't want to even think just how badly it could have gone.

"It's time," Jaskier mumbled, getting up and fetching his lute.

"Are you sure you should perform?" Essi asked, worried frown deepening. "You look ready to faint."

"I'll be fine, Poppet," Jaskier said, wishing he could summon a smile for her.

"If you say so," Essi muttered, blowing her curl away from her eye.

"I do." And maybe if he repeated it enough, it'd even come true against all odds.

Exiting the room was difficult and he immediately yearned to go back so he could bury himself underneath the inn's blankets and his weighted one. Facing the world and strangers was far down the list of things he wanted to do.

Too bad he needed to work.

The first glimpse of the people having lunch and watching the previous bard leave the stage made Jaskier swallow nervously.

"You'll be alright," Essi said, going to sit at a nearby table and looking unconvinced about her words.

"...Yeah," Jaskier whispered, knowing it was too quiet for her to hear.

Jaskier wasn't sure of what quick pleasantries he exchanged with the unknown bard as they passed each other. At least she had left a stool on the stage. It was nice not to have to worry about his legs giving in, shaky as they still were from the barely finished panic attack.

Sitting down and taking a deep shuddering breath, Jaskier shortly introduced himself, "I'm Jaskier the bard, here to entertain you for a moment."

The first few notes of the song were too slow and hesitant. Wrong for it. The long intro let him swallow the lump in his throat, making singing possible.

That too was too faint. He knew it. Knew the audience had to be judging him without even looking at them. He was fucking up. He was.

The next song surely wasn't any better. He could tell that too.

He couldn't make his voice carry like he needed to, couldn't meet the right notes as easily as usual. At least his hands stayed steady instead of shaking. That was something. Let him choose songs with less vocals and more focused on the lute.

Worst of all, people here knew music and knew him. Could tell each small mistake he made.

It was only as he reached the last chorus of his final song he dared to look at his audience.

And immediately regretted it as he accidentally met Valdo's eyes.

He wanted to leave even more now. Didn't want to give Valdo the satisfaction of seeing him like this, looking as terrible as his playing. Didn't want to hear the snide remarks he'd make the moment they'd actually meet. Which they would. He wouldn't be able to avoid him completely considering how intertwined their social circles were. It'd surely happen no matter how he'd try unless he barricaded himself into their room. Which sounded like a very good option.

He wasn't sure how he managed to finish the song as his throat kept constricting, making even breathing difficult.

There was polite applause as he left the stage.

He could feel the scrutinizing looks as he hurried to the staircase, simply giving a wave to avoid anyone approach him. Aside from Essi immediately joining him.

"You really look like you're about to faint," she said as Jaskier stumbled on the stairs.

"...'m fine," Jaskier protested, voice barely a whisper.

Unlocking the door was difficult with how badly his hands had started to shake. It would have been nice to be wrong about the performance anxiety releasing itself through a panic attack. Especially since last one was still singing in his veins, multiplying everything.

"You're not," Essi said plainly.

"I want to be alone. Please. I'm sorry," Jaskier said, swallowing tears. "Sorry."

"You don't have to apologize. Just... Are you sure? There's no telling when Geralt will return," Essi said, looking far too worried.

He'd be fine. He just needed to break down first and she shouldn't have to see or deal with it.

"Yeah," Jaskier said shortly, tears escaping before he had time to slip into the room and lock the door behind him.

Pressing his hands over his mouth, he hoped Essi would leave soon so she wouldn't hear anything. Hopefully no one else would hear anything either. The lackluster performance was embarrassing enough.

Barely managing to reach the far corner, Jaskier let himself slide to the floor and curl into himself.

He couldn't do this.

Couldn't keep himself together.

He wasn't sure how successfully he bit down the cries but he was helpless to stop them. He felt like he was freezing and his heart either breaking or wrenching itself out of his chest with the way it raced painfully.

It was the only reason he knew he existed.

Everything was so far away, surroundings impossible to focus on.

"Jaskier?"

Someone had found him.

He couldn't stop a whimper escaping behind his hands as he curled into himself tighter.

"Jaskier, it's me. You're safe, I promise."

No he wasn't. It wasn't safe. It wasn't.

"Can you look up? See it's me and we're at The Song and Rose? It's safe, Jaskier. You're far away from the castle and it was almost a year ago. You're safe now. I won't let anything happen to you. It's safe."

He wanted to be safe.

With effort Jaskier managed to lift his head just enough to see over his knees.

"Good, you're doing good. Do you recognize me?"

It was hard to recognize anything through his tears. But he could more or less see black and white and worried gold.

Which meant, "...Ge— Geralt...?"

"Yes, it's me," Geralt said, voice still just as soothing and calm. Like there was nothing wrong.

There were a myriad of things wrong but it might be safe at least.

"...Geralt... Geralt. Geralt," Jaskier repeated as if reciting a prayer. "Geralt, I—"

"It's alright, everything is fine. You're safe and there's nothing wrong. You just need to focus on getting your breathing under control. It'll help," Geralt said. After a brief pause he asked, "Would you prefer a hug or to not be touched? Which ever is perfectly fine. I'm not going to do anything you don't want."

He yearned for a hug. He didn't know if he could stand it.

Instead of answering, Jaskier clutched his beads and rested his forehead on his knees.

"You don't have to choose. I won't touch you until you give permission," Geralt promised seriously. "I do need you to try to calm down, though. Jaskier, you're nearly hyperventilating. I can count your breaths so it'll be easier getting them under control. And if you want at any point to also feel them, you're welcome to place your hand on my chest. You can do this."

It was stunning how much faith Geralt had in him. Breathing normally felt like a distant dream.

But he did so the vast majority of his life so maybe it wasn't impossible.

"That's it. Good, you're doing good," Geralt said as Jaskier managed to take deeper breaths.

The sheer kindness and patience Geralt showed him time after time was incredible. The way he calmly coached him out of panic attacks and flashbacks and general breakdowns. How he brought him out of dissociation. How Geralt didn't scorn his weakness, just kept supporting him as much as he could.

How Geralt had learned all that along the months just for him.

"Geralt, can I...? Could you hug me?" Jaskier asked, reaching out with a trembling hand.

"Yes," Geralt said, not an ounce of hesitation in his tone.

Jaskier unfolded from where he had pressed himself into a corner to clutch Geralt, pulling himself as close as he could. Burying his face into the crook of Geralt's neck, he finally felt safe again.

"Can I hug you back?" Geralt asked.

"Please," Jaskier said, voice cracking and hugging Geralt even tighter.

"I've got you," Geralt said softly, rubbing familiar circles on Jaskier's shoulder blade.

"Mmhmm."

It was calming to just sit still, Geralt's arms around him and hugging him back. Bit by bit Jaskier managed to relax his grip on Geralt, tiredness replacing the panic and fear.

He was close to drifting off when Geralt said quietly, "You should probably move to the bed. More comfortable to sleep there."

"Mmm."

"Come on, Jaskier. We can't stay on the floor forever." Despite the words Geralt didn't move.

"Hmph."

"Jaskier."

"Carry me," Jaskier said, not bothering to open his eyes.

"Seriously?"

"Don't feel like standing up." His legs still felt far too shaky to be a reliable form of transportation. Geralt would be much better.

Geralt sighed fondly and scooped him up. It was just a couple of steps but the gentle way he was handled felt nice. Like he was something precious to Geralt, something important.

"You need to work with me a bit if you plan to get under the blanket. I don't have free hands to move it," Geralt said, tipping Jaskier forward just enough for him to reach the aforementioned blanket so he could pull it.

They were being ridiculous. That too felt nice after everything.

"Want your weighted blanket?" Geralt asked once Jaskier had settled down in the bed.

"Please."

"Hmmm."

"Geralt, how did your investigation go?" Jaskier mumbled, fighting against sleep. "And sorry I can't have lunch with you."

"It went well enough and don't worry about either thing. Everything's fine. Just go to sleep, I'll stay with you," Geralt said, bringing the weighted blanket and sitting down on the mattress next to Jaskier when beckoned.

"...You don't have to," Jaskier whispered, burying his face into the pillow. He really, really didn't want Geralt to leave him alone but he also didn't want to make him stay regardless of his commitments.

Besides, he really would be alright soon enough now that the combined anxiety of the performance and Essi's unfortunate choice of topic had spent itself. This time he didn't even have to lie about it to himself in order to push through. The rest of the day without Geralt's company would be unpleasant but manageable as long as he wouldn't be triggered for a third time. Which really shouldn't happen since he had no plans to do much of anything aside from recuperating. He'd leave doing useful things for tomorrow.

"I do, but I also want to," Geralt said. "There's nothing so time-sensitive that I need to leave immediately. And you are— You're more important in any case."

He wasn't but the words still warmed his heart.

Chapter Text

Geralt wished he knew what had happened. Performing without him there couldn't have been easy but he hadn't at all expected Jaskier to have been triggered to this point. Nor had he thought Essi's quick whisper of 'Jaskier needs you' when he had passed her to have meant Jaskier having an actual breakdown.

His chest hurt for him in a way that had become far too familiar.

But for now there was nothing else to do than stay by Jaskier's side and hope sleep would help. It was fucking frustrating that he couldn't be with Jaskier for the rest of the day, would have to go interview the finder and victims' families later. He'd much prefer keeping Jaskier company despite how not being constantly together was far easier than it had been. Normally he wouldn't worry about leaving Jaskier alone for the few hours —unless something urgent would delay him— his investigation would take but after this... It didn't feel right. Maybe Essi could keep Jaskier company. That way he'd have help if needed. As much as Jaskier hated feeling like he was inconveniencing others, her presence shouldn't be unwanted since Jaskier trusted her deeply and considered her a sister.

Although, there was a rather big issue between them unsolved. Spending time with her might not be as relaxing as he had thought after all.

In any case, it'd be Jaskier's decision.

Geralt wasn't exactly sure how long had passed before Jaskier moved, sighing in what sounded annoyance.

"You awake?" Geralt asked.

"Unfortunately," Jaskier agreed, rolling onto his back. Locking eyes, he said, "Hi."

"Hi, yourself."

"Shouldn't you be solving murders?" Jaskier mumbled, rubbing his temples in a familiar manner.

"They'll keep a little longer," Geralt said, getting up and heading to the saddlebag holding the potions. "Take a painkiller for that headache. Drink some water too, they'll help."

"Thanks," Jaskier said, dragging himself up to lean against the headboard and reached out for the offered vial.

Talking about headaches...

"I met Shani at the morgue. She asked after you."

"And what did you tell her?" Jaskier asked, tone carefully neutral.

"That you aren't doing as well as you could be," Geralt said. "I wasn't going to lie to her and she'd be able to tell so once she sees you."

"...That's a pretty way of putting it, I guess," Jaskier said quietly, fiddling with the vial.

"Jaskier, I was thinking that you should talk to her. She's a skilled professional," Geralt said, apprehensive of how his suggestion would be taken. "It's your call but I think it'd help. If nothing else, tell her about your headaches and migraines. She'll surely know more about how to ease them."

"...I should, shouldn't I..."

"Hmmm."

"I'll think about it," Jaskier promised, opening the vial and drinking the potion.

"Good." That was all he could ask for.

"Geralt, you really don't have to stay with me. People dying is far more important than me having one of my breakdowns. I'm used to them and am just tired now," Jaskier said, placing the empty vial on the nightstand and avoiding eye contact.

It definitely wasn't nearly as reassuring as Jaskier meant it to be.

"Go eat and finish your work for today. I'm staying in so there's nothing to worry about," Jaskier said, making a shooing motion.

There was a lot to worry about.

"Fine. I'll bring food here and go interview the families afterwards," Geralt said.

"I'm not—"

"I'm bringing food for both of us. You're not going to skip a meal," Geralt said emphatically. "I'll just ask for something light for you."

"Alright. Thanks," Jaskier sighed unenthusiastically.

It was a simple matter to order them food and wait for it. The short time it took to be served was far too long. At least Jaskier was still awake, exactly where he had been and looking through a window.

"Here," Geralt said, handing Jaskier a bowl of soup.

"Thanks."

"Hmmm."

It was only once Geralt finished his own lunch that he broke the silence, "What happened?"

"You need to be more specific. A lot of things have happened since the beginning of time," Jaskier said, staring at the bowl.

"For fuck's sake. You know what I meant," Geralt grumbled. "What happened while I was away? I doubt it was just the performance."

There was a long pause before Jaskier spoke, "It didn't go as well as I hoped, probably made a fool of myself."

"What else?"

"Why do you think there's anything else? You know how important music and performing are to me," Jaskier said, glancing at him.

"Because I know you and you haven't had too much trouble singing in front of people for a while now. Me not being with you can't have helped but there's clearly something else too," Geralt said, trying to keep his frustration from showing.

"...I didn't have a good time right before my turn," Jaskier muttered, everything in him radiating reluctance.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, Geralt asked, "Why was that?"

"Because I have a broken brain that loves to quit on me at the drop of a hat!" Jaskier snapped.

"Stop talking about yourself like that!" Geralt snapped right back. With effort he evened his tone as Jaskier flinched. "I thought we were over hiding things and brushing them off as unimportant."

"...I'm sorry," Jaskier said quietly. "It's just... It really wasn't important, just an overreaction to perfectly unthreatening thing. You know how I can get, especially when already stressed. And I am stressed about being here. Haven't yet gotten used to it. Hasn't been even a day yet, after all."

It was some sort of an answer and better than nothing. Even though it didn't actually give much information.

"I wish I could stay with you until you are," Geralt said.

"Oh, Geralt, dear heart, no. Don't apologize," Jaskier said, countenance softening. "It's not your fault and neither should you feel guilty in general for separating."

"Hmmm."

"What you're doing is incredibly important. You really don't have to worry about me," Jaskier continued. Apparently realizing how much of a lie the last sentence sounded like, he added, "Not more than usual, at least. You know I'll pull myself together eventually even if something happens."

"You shouldn't have to," Geralt said sincerely. Jaskier truly didn't deserve having to fight through everything, especially alone.

"Things are what they are to quote you," Jaskier said, giving a brief rueful smile. "Now, I'm going to sleep a bit more and you really need to get going. And Geralt, I do know that I'm safe here, I just... lost my grip on reality for a moment."

"Good. Do you know which room Essi is staying at?" Geralt asked, starting to gear up again.

"I do." Jaskier nodded, watching his every move.

"Go to her if you need help."

"You do know she's not trapped there? She has a life," Jaskier said, looking amused.

It was a far better expression on him.

"At least knock to see if she's in," Geralt said, finished getting ready. "I'll try to be quick but I have no idea how long it'll take. If nothing else, I should be back before dusk."

"Take as long as you need to, I mean it," Jaskier said seriously.

"Stay safe," Geralt said, starting to leave.

"That's my line," Jaskier huffed. Softer, he added, "Stay safe, love."

"What do you want?" A young tired looking woman asked suspiciously, having answered Geralt's knocking.

"Are you Paula Kamiński, Arkadiusz Kamiński's wife?" Geralt asked, making sure to keep his tone polite instead of impatient.

"I was," Paula said, crossing her arms. "What's this about?"

"I'm investigating his death. May I come in?" Geralt requested.

"No," Paula snapped, stepping back in and slamming the door shut.

Swearing under his breath, Geralt knocked again. When she refused to answer, he banged the door a couple of times before giving up.

"Don't take it to heart. She's been getting almost nonstop visits from guards, family, and general well-wishers, not to mention busybodies," an old woman placing a sheet on a clothesline to dry said suddenly.

"You know her?" Geralt asked, focusing on the woman.

"Sure do, I've lived next to Kamińskis since they moved in six years ago. She's not the most outgoing person if you couldn't tell. Her husband —peace to his soul— was the one entertaining guests and constantly inviting people over. Now, get over here to help with the laundry and I'll try to answer the rest of your questions, young man," she said, pointing at the large basket almost full of sheets. "And call me Berta."

"You said Arkadiusz tended to invite people over. Were there any new faces lately?" Geralt asked, feeling foolish as he grabbed one end of a sheet to stretch and shake it with Berta to ensure it staying wrinkle-free.

"All the time. Men, women, all sorts of people. Didn't matter whether or not Paula was home. Some visited for a few minutes while others could stay over for days," Berta said, letting Geralt hang the sheet.

"Hmmm."

"Paula wasn't very taken with her husband's habit. Told me she felt like the guests 'infringed on her house and privacy.' She sure will have quiet and privacy as soon as the hubbub calms down, the poor thing." Berta shook her head, offering Geralt another sheet.

"Do you know what he did with the visitors, especially those that didn't stay? Geralt asked, focusing on not pulling on the sheet too hard and ripping it out of Berta's hands.

"The times I was invited, it was usually over tea or lunch, just a quiet gathering. A couple of times I did attend an actual party. They were rather high-end too, foreign foods and wine from Toussaint. Real soirees, those," Berta said, tugging hard. "You're good at pulling sheets. I feel like I'm playing tug of war with an ox."

"...Thank you?" Geralt said, bemused.

"Take the compliment, young man. My nephew is absolutely terrible at this despite looking just as burly as you."

Sure that pointing out that he was definitely older than her wouldn't be appreciated, Geralt stayed silent.

"As for those who barely step in before leaving, I can't say. But who knows, maybe he had a side hustle of some kind. Wouldn't surprise me since it looked like he was living beyond his means, what with all the parties and expensive clothes," Berta continued. "Paula never bluntly said so but it was easy to see her disapproval whenever the topic of the parties came up."

A few more finished sheets and Geralt was certain that Berta had told him everything relevant she knew.

Hanging one last to dry, he said, "Thank you for your help. I need to continue on now."

"A shame, there's a couple left still," Berta sighed, looking at her basket. "Oh well, I had easier time regardless. Thank you for assisting me and I hope you'll find whatever killed the poor man."

Geralt nodded in parting, walking down the street and checking the next address. Not too far away from where he was, although in a more upscale residential area.

Thankfully this time he was let in after knocking.

"Please, take a seat," Tekla said, gesturing at a comfortable looking armchair in the bright and tastefully decorated sitting room Geralt had been led to. "Feel free to ask your questions about my late fiancé. I'll do my best to answer them."

"Thanks. Did you live with him? Geralt asked, looking at a large painting of the couple and a young child.

"Oh, no. That would have been inappropriate," Tekla said, a faint smile appearing briefly, "but it's true that I spent a lot of time here even when Szlama was out. I often watched after Marta —his daughter— and was practicing running the household. I'm not used to having so many servants."

As if on cue, a maid brought a platter of sliced sweet bread and an assortment of fruit preserves that she placed on the table between Geralt and Tekla.

"Please, eat," Tekla offered, gesturing at the food.

Feeling awkward, Geralt removed his gloves and served himself a slice. Holding a small delicate porcelain dessert plate underneath it to catch crumbs, he bit into the bread. It was perfectly baked which somehow made him feel even more out of place.

"I heard he was staying out more than usual lately. Something about troubles at work?" Geralt asked.

"Yes, he was busier than usual the last couple of weeks. He didn't talk much about his work with me but from what I gathered, there was an issue with one of the properties he owned that was costing him money. There were more than few evenings when he'd stay out far too late."

Money issues with both of them, then.

"Did he attend parties often?" Geralt asked, carefully placing the platter on the table.

"Once in a while, yes. Mostly with me but there were some work gatherings I didn't partake in." Tekla nodded, smoothing down the skirt of her black mourning dress.

"Did you ever hear the name Arkadiusz Kamiński or meet him?"

"No, which you surely already knew. I haven't remembered ever encountering him despite trying to think about it. I would have gone to the guards the moment I remembered," Tekla sighed tiredly. "But it's possible that Szlama simply never mentioned him. He had many friends and contacts."

"What about his former wife, Tosia Bosko? Can you tell anything about her?" Geralt asked, watching as Tekla pursed her painted lips in clear disapproval.

"I don't like to talk badly of others but she wasn't the best of wives or mothers," Tekla said after a pause. "They married young —too young many would say— and their marriage was quite tumultuous from what I've been told. She fought against her role and not even Marta's birth after all the childless years made her take her responsibilities any more seriously."

"Hmmm."

"I've met her several times as you can guess but I'm sad to say that we haven't befriended each other."

"Do you know where she is?"

"No, just that she's out of town at the moment. She dropped Marta off before leaving six days ago without telling when she'd be back," Tekla said.

Hoping she'd keep being just as cooperative, Geralt requested, "Mind if I look through your husband's office?"

"If you want to. The guards have already done so but I think they didn't take much. He has a private home office and one in the city," Tekla said, standing up and gesturing Geralt to follow her.

She took him down a corridor lined with oil paintings and doors, and upstairs to the second floor.

"Take as long as you need to, Witcher," Tekla said, opening a door for him. "I'll wait for you downstairs."

Giving an acknowledging nod, Geralt entered the office.

It was bathed in sunlight, windows facing the river and high enough to grant a view over the rooftops of other houses. Bypassing the two armchairs and the bookcases taking up most of the wall space, Geralt made his way to the large desk.

He flipped through miscellaneous papers, receipts, and notes on the table and in the drawers. Nothing of particular interest, not even the writings in what seemed to be a work related journal. The several deeds to houses made him slow down but even they neatly corresponded with what he had been told of Nowakowski's profession.

Stepping back to stand in the middle, Geralt surveyed the room again. Frowning, he focused on one of the bookcases.

Something about it felt different.

Same size, same dark color, same heavy wooden frame. Similar books on its shel—

No, not all of them were similar.

Moving to look closely, one of the books on the second highest shelf looked more worn than the others. Not glaringly so but in a house full of only well maintained belongings and a carefully crafted aura of wealth it felt strange. Especially in a space where other investors and coworkers would be entertained.

Curious, Geralt lifted the book only to freeze as something clicked quietly.

Taking the book fully off the shelf, he saw the small lever the thick book had been pushing down. Testing the back panel of the bookshelf made it swing slightly inwards, revealing a box and a leather bound book. After removing enough books to reach into the secret compartment, Geralt carefully took them out and brought to the desk.

The lid of the surprisingly heavy ornate box stayed shut when Geralt tried to open it, not that he actually had expected it to be unlocked. Not finding a fitting key in any of the drawers however was disappointing.

Shaking the box gently created the familiar sound of coins clinking together. Something bigger kept shifting too, making him want to simply force the box open to see what it was. Deciding that it'd be easy enough to do if he wanted to later, Geralt placed the box down on the desk and opened the book.

A ledger by the looks of it, with rows of numbers interspersed with writing.

Frowning, Geralt stared at the words written in runes used for Elder. Except the corresponding sounds didn't create any words he could understand. Quietly speaking them aloud didn't help either, everything staying just as unfamiliar.

Strange.

Taking both the ledger and the box, Geralt left the office to find Tekla.

Jaskier felt much more like himself again when he woke up for the second time. His nerves had stopped thrumming with anxiety and the stone pressing on his chest had removed itself. Not even Geralt being away was making him particularly anxious. Just the usual background radiation and the familiar worry about him trying to find whatever monster was killing people.

It was a nice change.

The day had already been ridiculously long and it was nowhere close to being over.

Jaskier kept lying still, just fidgeting with his beads and trying to focus on each breath and the way they made his chest move up and down. It was as close to mediation as Geralt had managed to teach him. Thankfully at the moment it was somewhat possible to slow his thoughts down from their usual careening.

The light streaming through the window had changed a bit when Jaskier opened his eyes.

Sitting up, he grabbed the forgotten bowl of soup from the nightstand and slowly finished it despite not being hungry. Not that it meant he should skip meals. It'd be far too easy to let it mess up the routine he had worked so hard and long to achieve.

It was a shame Geralt hadn't thought about bringing water with their lunch.

Going downstairs to get some wasn't an appealing prospect in the least but not even the broth of the soup had been enough to soothe the thirst.

Groaning, he got up and fetched his boots Geralt had apparently neatly placed next to his lute case after he had kicked them off before slipping underneath the blankets. The small kindness made Jaskier smile softly.

It didn't last even to the staircase, the increasing nervousness wiping it away.

A deep breath and Jaskier made his cautious way downstairs.

There were less people mingling than when he had performed, it being between lunch and dinner crowds. A welcome change. Doing his best to not flinch or otherwise react to sudden movements or voices getting temporarily louder, Jaskier reached the counter.

"Hello, could I get a pitcher of water to take upstairs with me?" Jaskier requested, feeling stupidly proud of how his voice didn't waver.

"Just a moment." The bartender nodded, heading to the backroom.

"Jaskier?"

It was impossible to keep from tensing up to the point he couldn't breath. Slowly Jaskier turned around, trying to keep his expression neutral and reminding himself that at least it wasn't Valdo addressing him. That was something. He really, really couldn't have faced him right now.

"Tymon," Jaskier said, trying to sound pleasant instead of like he wanted to immediately leave.

Although, Tymon probably would understand if he did walk away after the greeting. Out of his friends he knew the most of what had happened. It wasn't much or detailed but slightly more than what he had told Essi. It would have been so much worse to let Tymon keep thinking he was in an abusive relationship with Geralt.

"Hello," Suzanna said, standing next to Tymon and drawing Jaskier's attention.

"Hi, Suzanna," Jaskier greeted her back, surprised.

She looked almost as bad as he felt; her face pale and eyes red-rimmed, wearing only black.

A mourning dress.

"Are you alright?" Jaskier asked, concern replacing the nervousness.

"I—" Suzanna tried, looking away and blinking tears away. "My husband. He died."

"I'm so sorry," Jaskier said, heart aching for his friend. Struck by a worrying thought, he hesitantly asked, "I'm sorry to ask but... When did it happen?"

"Two weeks ago," Suzanna sighed tiredly. "Can we change the topic?"

"Of course," Jaskier said quickly.

At least her husband hadn't been the newest victim. That would have been a terrible way to lose one's partner. Not that there was a good one.

"Are you staying with Geralt here?" Tymon asked, looking around in a clear attempt to locate him.

"Yeah. He's out working at the moment," Jaskier said, taking the water pitcher with thanks when it was brought before focusing on his friends again. "We'll stay for at least a couple of days, depending on how quickly Geralt finishes his contract."

"Is it about the deaths?" Tymon asked, lowering his voice. "I heard about them today."

"Let's get a table," Suzanna interrupted, walking stiffly to the nearest empty one and placing her drink down, making it slosh dangerously close to spilling.

"...I shouldn't have brought that up around her. Of course she wouldn't want to talk about such a subject," Tymon murmured to Jaskier, looking contrite. Raising his voice back to normal, he asked, "Would you like to join us? It's totally fine if you'd rather go back to your room."

It was a difficult question.

At least Tymon looked completely sincere. Probably remembering how he hadn't been able to do much of anything last summer without Geralt being right there with him. Knowing he could leave any second helped.

"...Maybe for a minute," Jaskier said after a short pause, gripping the pitcher tighter.

"Want something to drink? My treat," Tymon offered.

"No, thanks." That way there wouldn't be the expectation of staying at least until he finished the drink.

"How have you been?" Tymon asked once they had sat down.

"Better," Jaskier said, glad not to need to lie. Made him feel less quilty about having to continue hedging. "Although, still not completely over my sickness from last year. What about you two?"

"I finished that essay about the aural qualities and verbal essences of poetry. It got even selected for an anthology that got printed," Tymon said, looking both proud and bashful.

"Oh, congratulations!" Jaskier said, smiling.

"It's not that big of a deal," Tymon said, rubbing his neck.

"Yes it is. No need to act so humble," Suzanna said quietly. "You worked hard on it."

"I guess."

There was a brief silence before Suzanna continued, "There hasn't been much going on with me aside from... Well. I did write a couple of songs but they aren't especially popular unlike yours tend to be, Jaskier."

"I'm sure they're beautiful." Jaskier said, flinching as a customer walking to the counter almost brushed against him. He could only hope it didn't make him look like a liar.

"You spent the winter with Geralt, right? How was it?" Tymon asked curiously.

"Wonderful. His family was so accepting and helpful. I can never thank them enough. They even accepted me as a part of their family. It's... I truly grew to love them," Jaskier said, meaning each word. "Geralt too continued being amazing but there's nothing new about that."

"I'm so glad for you. You really deserve being happy," Tymon said, smiling softly and looking like some of the worry lurking in his eyes melted away.

"Family is a marvelous thing." Suzanna nodded.

Jaskier took a slow shuddering breath to calm himself, feeling the air current as someone passed him behind his back.

His grip on the pitcher was starting to get painfully tight.

He wanted to leave.

"Thanks."

"Will you be performing tonight?" Tymon asked.

"Already did. But I'll be singing tomorrow evening around sundown," Jaskier said, unable to keep himself from looking around in an attempt to find possible threats.

"I'll drop by to see you," Tymon said, starting to frown as he looked down at Jaskier's snow-white knuckles. Seriously he added, "Jaskier, it's fine if you want to go. We won't be offended or anything."

"Oh. Right. Sorry," Jaskier muttered, feeling his cheeks heat up. It was so frustrating not being able to enjoy being with his friends after such a long time.

A glance at Tymon showed him looking just as sincere as before, although Suzanna's neutral expression was impossible to read. Then again, she had had it for most of the conversation.

"I think I'll go back to my room. Sorry," Jaskier said quietly, standing up. "I'll see you later. And Suzanna, I really am sorry for your loss."

It was a fight to stay long enough to listen to his friends' goodbyes instead of immediately hurrying away.

It made the solitude of the empty room even sweeter.

Hands shaking, Jaskier poured himself water and sat down on the edge of the bed. There'd definitely be no leaving the room again before Geralt arrived. He was done. Far too done with being without him in public spaces, no matter how safe he knew them to be. At least the water was washing away the constricting feeling in his throat. It was nice breathing more freely again. After placing the empty mug on the nightstand, he let himself fall on his back on the bed.

Taking his boots off so he could lift his legs onto it too would be too draining so Jaskier kept dangling his feet.

The beads were a nice solid sensation under his fingertips as he fidgeted with them. The faint clacking a nice sound to distract him from the way his heart beat too fast.

He had no idea how long he stayed like that when a familiar knock disturbed him.

It was welcome.

"Hi, Geralt," Jaskier murmured, not bothering to move or open his eyes.

"Everything alright?" Geralt asked, worry shining through in his tone.

"Well enough. Didn't have another panic attack or something if you're worrying about that."

"Good. Can I join you?"

"Please." Hearing Geralt step towards him, Jaskier requested, "Could you pull my boots off? I really can't find the energy to do so."

"Sure. I'll just take off my gear and armor first," Geralt promised, doing so rather quickly from the sounds of it. Soon he asked, "Is it alright if I take them off now?"

"Yeah, didn't change my mind," Jaskier said, lifting his right leg.

"Touching you now," Geralt informed him before gently taking his boot off, moving to the other once getting permission again.

"Sorry I ask for stupid things. I shouldn't make you do them," Jaskier whispered, eyes still closed.

"Don't apologize," Geralt sighed. "You're not making me do anything, I'm choosing to do them."

"You shouldn't have to."

"Jaskier, you know I like doing things for you. I don't care if it's helping you with your shoes or something bigger. Keep asking. Even if you can do them by yourself," Geralt said seriously. "I want you to know that I love you and I'm not good with words. Let me at least show at how I feel about you."

Geralt was such a liar, insisting he didn't know how to wield his words.

"If there's one thing in this world I know, it's that you love me, dear heart," Jaskier said, finally meeting Geralt's eyes.

"Hmmm."

And there went the words.

It was endearing.

"I love you too, Geralt. So very much," Jaskier said, reaching for Geralt's hand.

Getting a nod, he linked fingers with Geralt and pulled him towards himself. "Join me."

In seconds he was cuddling Geralt, listening to the slow steady heartbeat and feeling more content than the whole day. It was so safe like this, in Geralt's arms.

"How did things go?" Jaskier asked, enjoying the familiar patterns Geralt was absently tracing on his shoulder blade.

"Well. I got my questions answered, although the man who found today's victim didn't know anything," Geralt said.

"That's a shame."

"I did find a secret compartment in one of the residents."

"Oh! What did it contain?" Jaskier asked curiously.

"Some sort of a ledger and a locked box. Haven't opened it yet since I'll have to either break or pick the lock," Geralt said. "The ledger is written in Elder runes but they don't make any sense."

"That's fascinating. Is it in code?"

"Might be."

"Can I take a look?" Jaskier requested. "I know Elder and words are kind of my thing after all. Maybe I'll be able to figure it out."

There was a brief pause before Geralt agreed, "...Sure."

"A ledger isn't going to bite me, Geralt. There's no harm in me checking it out," Jaskier said, amused. "Let me help you."

He truly wanted to. There was so woefully little he could do for Geralt normally.

"Fine. Just don't push yourself," Geralt sighed. "I know simply being here in Oxenfurt is tiring for you and this is my job, not yours."

"Yes, yes. I'll do my best to rest enough." Jaskier waved his hand. "I still want to take a look. Cracking a code sounds interesting."

"Later. What did you do while I was gone?" Geralt asked, changing the topic.

"Slept and rested in general for the most part. But I did meet Tymon and Suzanna downstairs when I went to get water. You remember Suzanna, right? You met her briefly last year," Jaskier checked.

"More or less. How did it go?"

"I stayed only for a few minutes, being in public was getting overwhelming fast but it was fine. Also, Tymon at least is going to come here next evening to watch me perform. Guess I should prepare myself for others tagging along," Jaskier said.

"Hmmm."

It was nice that Geralt's tone had lost the bite. Not that he could fault the initial intense dislike Geralt had had. Tymon having accused Geralt of abusing him and then managing to accidentally trigger a flashback had most definitely made for the worst possible first meeting.

"Suzanna lost her husband recently," Jaskier continued.

"Really? How?" Geralt asked, fingers stilling in surprise.

"I don't know, didn't feel like the right moment to ask. But it happened two weeks ago so he thankfully wasn't the victim," Jaskier said, heart aching. "I didn't know him well but I feel terrible for Suzanna. Losing one's love..."

"You're not about to lose me," Geralt said, making Jaskier realize he had started to cling to him. "I'm right here with no plans for it to change. You don't have to worry about it."

Jaskier wished he could stop but Geralt's profession made it impossible.

As did the fact that he had almost caused Geralt's death last summer. The guilt wasn't as encompassing as it had been but the knowledge weighed heavy in his heart. There were so many things he'd change if he could.

"You need to stop getting hurt in that case," Jaskier said quietly, trying to focus on the here and now.

"I haven't gotten seriously hurt in a long time," Geralt defended himself, starting tracing patterns again.

"Hurt is hurt," Jaskier stated. "Still, I'm glad that you haven't had any serious injuries in a good while. Let's keep it like that, alright?"

"I'm fine," Geralt groaned.

"I know. It's the future I'm concerned about."

"Jaskier, you really do need to stop worrying about hypotheticals. You'll just wind yourself up."

"Just... Please, Geralt, always do your best to return whole and safe," Jaskier said, purposefully loosening his hold on Geralt.

"I will," Geralt promised, voice so soft it was almost a caress.

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered, matching the tone. Moving so he could meet Geralt's eyes, he requested, "May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

It was easy to close the distance and gently brush his lips against Geralt's before kissing him properly. As familiar as it was, kissing Geralt never failed to cause a thrill to run down his spine. A quick check and Jaskier carded his fingers through Geralt's hair, only to have them halt at a tangle near the ends.

Breaking the kiss, Jaskier said, "You need to brush your hair better."

"I know how to brush my hair," Geralt stated, annoyance clear on his face.

"Obviously not," Jaskier said, emphasizing the words by lightly tugging at the tangle. "Let me braid it?"

"Fine," Geralt sighed, sitting up as Jaskier fetched the comb.

"I'll give you a kiss afterwards since we got interrupted," Jaskier said, sitting behind Geralt and removing the ribbon holding part of his hair in place.

"You don't have to," Geralt said seriously.

"I want to. Besides, I know I can change my mind with you," Jaskier said, starting to comb Geralt's hair.

"Always."

Knowing Geralt hated to be thanked for things like that, Jaskier asked, "What kind of a braid do you want?"

"Don't care." Geralt shrugged. "Just pick one."

"Fishbone it shall be."

"Hmmm."

It was cozy, taking care of Geralt despite it being such a small act. Just being allowed to do so made him happy. And if the way Geralt leaned into the touch was anything to go by, he wasn't the only one enjoying it. Maybe he should have decided on a more complex braid so it'd take longer to make. As it was, he kept playing with it after finishing.

It kept being slightly strange, enjoying working on Geralt's hair while the thought of someone even briefly touching his was enough to make his anxiety surge. Still, he was grateful for it. Even though he might not be able to wash Geralt's hair ever again, at least he could help with it in a different way.

Geralt deserved genuine kindness and being cared for with no ulterior motives. There had been far too little of it in his long life.

"I love you," Jaskier whispered in Geralt's ear. "So, so very much."

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, eyes soft when he turned to look at Jaskier.

"Would you like that kiss?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

Jaskier let his lips linger on Geralt's even as they parted, sharing a breath and basking in the love. It was a shame they couldn't stay as they were forever.

"I should take a look at the box," Geralt finally said, breaking the moment.

"Yeah, you really should." Jaskier nodded, moving to stand by the table where Geralt had placed his findings.

"Step back," Geralt said, frowning.

"Why?"

"The box could be trapped. I don't want you to get caught in it if something happens," Geralt said, examining the lock.

"Now that's an unpleasant thought. You better not get caught in anything either," Jaskier said, retreating a bit.

"Hmmm."

With that Geralt hit the small padlock hard with a hilt of a dagger, breaking the pins keeping it locked with sheer force.

The casual show of strength probably wasn't meant to be as attractive as it was.

Putting on his gloves and using the dagger, Geralt swung the lid open.

Nothing happened.

Sighing in relief and moving to stand next to Geralt again to see for himself, Jaskier asked, "What's in it?"

All he got was a distracted hum.

"Are those gold nuggets?" Jaskier asked in astonishment, reaching into the box.

"Don't!" Geralt barked, grabbing Jaskier's wrist before he could touch them.

Jaskier froze in place with a small distressed sound, not moving even as Geralt immediately let go.

"Jaskier? I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched you," Geralt said quietly in the same tone he used to calm Roach down. "Everything is alright, still just as safe as before."

"Uh-huh," Jaskier mumbled, cradling his wrist Geralt had grabbed. He knew Geralt had done no harm. He just couldn't stop protecting it.

Making sure grabbing it easily would be impossible.

"Jaskier, you're safe."

"Why?" Jaskier asked, voice thick and tongue uncooperative.

"Shouldn't touch anything without protection before I'm sure it's safe," Geralt said, voice just as soothing as before. "I should have told you so earlier."

"Makes sense. Mystery box and all. It's okay," Jaskier said, forcing himself to take a deeper breath.

"Is it?" Geralt asked, studying him.

He was startled, not panicked. Knew that Geralt wouldn't touch him without permission unless there was a good reason for it. The explanation helped too. Let him know what he had done wrong to elicit such a reaction from Geralt.

"Yeah. Just— Just uncomfortable. Not the first time you've done that. It'll pass."

"Hmmm."

"It will."

"Hmmm."

Not finding the needed energy to reassure Geralt more nor wanting to end up ruminating on the instinctual grab, Jaskier switched the topic, "So, is that really gold? And does it smell poisonous? You're not going to lick it to find out, right?"

"That's something you'd do," Geralt said, looking him over once more before refocusing on the task at hand.

To Jaskier's amusement he really did bend close to the box and inhale deeply through his nose.

"I can't smell any traces of any compounds even from close," Geralt said, taking out one of the nuggets. "No film clinging to it either."

"That's good."

"Don't touch anything."

"I won't," Jaskier promised, rubbing his wrist absently. It still tingled from the unexpected touch. "What about that small box? Is it locked too?"

Putting the nugget back into the box, Geralt lifted the small box sitting among the gold to inspect it. When Geralt didn't immediately say anything, Jaskier leaned closer to see better.

"It's a puzzle box," Jaskier said.

"What?"

"Those aren't carvings. I think it's the kind of a puzzle where you need to find the correct position for each section for it to open. Priscilla loves them," Jaskier said, careful not to touch as he pointed out the patterns running along the box.

"Hmmm. Nowakowski has definitely put effort into concealing whatever is in it. I can hear something shifting inside," Geralt said, carefully rotating the puzzle box.

"Didn't you say he had money troubles?" Jaskier frowned.

"That's what I was told." Geralt nodded. "Not that all that gold agrees. I wonder if he got it through illegal means. Would explain why it doesn't show up in his accounts."

"Sounds plausible," Jaskier agreed, studying the small box. "Do you think it's safe for me to touch that?"

"No. I want to clean everything first, my gloves included," Geralt stated, placing the puzzle back into the larger box and shutting the lid.

"Can I take a look at the coded ledger at least?" Jaskier asked, shaking his hand to get rid of the last of the lingering touch and wanting to do something useful.

"We don't know if it's coded. Could just be a language I don't know," Geralt said, removing his gloves before getting the book for Jaskier.

"Let's see," Jaskier said, opening the ledger. Scanning the runes for a while, he tilted his head. "Huh. I don't understand this either. I stand by my guess of it being coded. Between us there's pretty low possibility of not knowing the language. Besides, there's always words similar to other languages, especially if they have same roots. It's really unlikely that I wouldn't recognize even a single one."

"We need to find the cipher then."

"I know a few. With any luck one of them will be the correct one," Jaskier said, itching to grab paper and a pen to start immediately.

It had been a while since last time he had used any but it should be an interesting challenge. And there couldn't be a better place for such an activity, academy's libraries so close by to find references should his memory or knowledge fail him.

Chapter Text

"Do you need to go make a report on your findings?" Jaskier asked, ripping a slice of bread into smaller pieces and ignoring Geralt's unimpressed expression at the rather ineffectual method of eating his breakfast.

"No. There hasn't been anything important enough to warrant it yet," Geralt said, skewering a small sausage.

"I'm sorry I haven't cracked the code yet," Jaskier said, avoiding eye contact and finally eating one of the small pieces.

"Don't apologize," Geralt said, tired edge to his tone.

"Mmhmm."

He knew Geralt was more than fed up with hearing the words. Still, the longer they couldn't read the ledger, the bigger the chance of someone getting killed kept getting. It being completely unrelated was rather unlikely after all. It'd be far too big of a coincidence.

"It's not like I could have made any headway with it," Geralt pointed out. "You have at least a chance."

"I guess..."

"Want to go to the university? You didn't get to do it yesterday," Geralt asked.

"Shouldn't you stay where the guards can find you? Or patrol the streets to look for clues?" Jaskier asked back.

"We can swing by the library at the same time," Geralt said. "Maybe there's some books that can speed finding the right cipher up."

"Oh. It'd be nice if you're sure that it won't interfere with your work," Jaskier said, popping another piece of bread into his mouth.

"I am."

"Alright then. Let's first get that bag for the supplies I want to acquire."

He had barely started to stand up when Geralt said sharply, "Sit down and finish your breakfast."

Huffing in annoyance, Jaskier sat back down and grabbed his bread that resembled crumbs more than a slice. It took a while to finish it. Thankfully Geralt didn't insist on him eating another one. That would probably have caused them to sit there for an eternity.

Compared to that braving the busy streets wasn't too bad.

He still hated each second of it.

People kept getting too close and were too loud. It was impossible not to flinch each time someone moved unexpectedly. Which was constantly. At least Geralt was a steadying presence, guarding him. It was the only reason he managed to keep walking despite the building anxiety.

"Alright?" Geralt asked, voice low.

"...Yeah..."

"We can go find somewhere quieter," Geralt offered.

"Academy grounds will be quiet," Jaskier said, managing to swallow the lump in his throat down enough to get the words out. They were close enough for it to be stupid to head somewhere else. Much easier to endure the crowd for a bit longer.

"Hmmm."

"Mmhmm."

Such a verbose conversation they were having. Too bad continuing walking was taking all of his focus.

After signing in to the academy grounds Jaskier veered them off the gravel path and headed to a secluded bench partly hidden by bushes and flowers. Closing his eyes, Jaskier took a deep shuddering breath. Fidgeting with his beads was calming. The sounds around them familiar. Geralt sitting next to him making the world a safer place.

"Feeling better?" Geralt asked once Jaskier's breathing was back to normal.

"Yeah. I'm not about to vibrate out of my skin anymore." Jaskier nodded, continuing playing with the beads. "Can we still stay for a moment longer?"

"Of course."

"Thanks. Mind if I lean on you?"

"Not at all," Geralt said, letting Jaskier lay his head on his shoulder.

It made the world a bit better place. Being with Geralt always did so. There was nowhere else he'd rather be.

"Is it alright with you if we first get the supplies, then —hopefully— have a meeting with the dean, and go to the library last?" Jaskier asked.

"Sounds good to me," Geralt agreed, linking his fingers with Jaskier's after requesting it.

The way Geralt kept bothering to ask for permission even after all this time was incredible —yesterday's mistake not counting. By all means he should be beyond fed up with doing it for every single tiny thing. It had to be just as frustrating to Geralt as it was for him if not more.

He yearned to be able to interact with people normally.

Instead he couldn't stand touching or being touched without explicit permission and even then touching anyone but Geralt was stupidly difficult, to a point where most of the time it was impossible. Even Geralt's touch could become unbearable. But on the other hand, at least he could touch Geralt without checking first once in a while. Seeing Geralt's expression fill with wonder and happiness each time he dared to do so was beautiful to witness. Made it more than worth it to try whenever he could.

Geralt was worth everything.

There was nothing he wouldn't do for him which in all honesty wasn't the best or healthiest of things.

It still was true.

He'd always put Geralt first.

"Thanks," Jaskier said, briefly squeezing Geralt's hand. Changing his grip he drew their hands closer to his lips, asking, "A kiss?"

"Yes," Geralt said with a barely visible smile.

Jaskier kissed the scarred knuckles gently before letting go, feeling more balanced again.

"Let's go raid those cabinets," he said, standing up and making sure his clothes were looking proper and covering as much skin as they possibly could.

"Hmmm."

Following the familiar paths and hallways Jaskier led them to the same door as last year, politely greeting people who knew him without stopping to converse whenever encountering them. He really didn't want to spend any longer at the academy than he had to to get everything needed done. In and out, that was what he hoped for and been seen out and about was enough by itself.

Looking around as they stopped by the door, Jaskier asked Geralt, "Can you hear anyone?"

"Not in the room but someone will come around the corner soon," Geralt said quietly, nodding to the closest one to them.

Jaskier couldn't stifle an annoyed sigh but he too could hear the footstep now. Putting on as neutral expression as he could, Jaskier started slowly walking again in an attempt to not look like he had been about to lockpick the door. Thankfully Geralt followed his lead instead of staying still.

It took only a couple of steps for the person to round the corner.

"Oh, hi Jaskier!" Antoni greeted him, clearly surprised. "I didn't know you were in Oxenfurt."

"Hello. We arrived only recently," Jaskier said, hoping he didn't sound as unenthusiastic as he was. It had nothing to do with Antoni that he already wanted them to go their separate ways.

"It's good to see you, we all have been a bit worried. You didn't look well at all last time we saw," Antoni said, eyes sharp as he took in Jaskier's appearance. Acknowledging Geralt with a brief nod, he continued, "Tymon tried to reassure us that you'd eventually be alright after he came back down after talking with you but... Well."

"I'm doing better," Jaskier said, glad not having to lie. Even though the way he looked didn't make it as convincing as he wanted.

"Really?"

"Really." Jaskier nodded, managing to muster a smile for his friend. "I'm just still not completely over the illness but doing better."

Hopefully he wouldn't have to keep repeating it each time he'd run into someone he knew. It'd be convenient if someone ended up gossiping about it, saving him from vaguely explaining things over and over. Things would get twisted and exaggerated but they surely already were from last summer so...

"Are you staying at The Song and Rose?" Antoni asked, moving the books he was carrying into a better position.

"Yeah. Antoni, don't let us keep you from whatever you were doing," Jaskier said, gesturing at the books. "We can catch up later."

Please leave.

It was getting difficult not to nervously fidget with his beads and he didn't want to show any cracks in his composure.

"Alright, I'll drop by at some point. You're welcome to visit me too whenever. You know where I live," Antoni said, smiling warmly.

Thankfully finishing their goodbyes and Antoni disappearing from sight didn't take long.

Since Geralt didn't hear anyone else approaching them, Jaskier focused on wiggling the door handle in a very precise manner. It was good that no one still hadn't bothered to fix the locking mechanism.

"Close the door," Jaskier said, slipping into the large rehearsal hall and Geralt immediately following after him.

Drawing a stiletto from his boot, Jaskier marched to one of the large supply cabinets and started picking the lock. Not that it was difficult, the lock just as old and loose as the door's. It was half a miracle that they didn't swing open just from looking at them.

"Take more," Geralt suggested when Jaskier stopped to think whether or not he had liberated enough strings and lute maintenance tools.

"Where's your incredulousness from last year?" Jaskier asked, grabbing more polish.

"It died after hearing about the tuition."

Chuckling, Jaskier closed the cabinet and exited the room. It didn't take long to visit the other rooms where he finished filling the bag Geralt was carrying with notebooks, pens, quills, and inkwells.

Heading to the dean's office, he muttered, "I don't want to do this."

"You don't have to," Geralt said immediately.

"Yes I do. I won't be able to stop worrying about the possibility of having accidentally agreed for another tenure as a lecturer," Jaskier said, tugging at his beads.

"You didn't," Geralt reassured him.

"Dean Ignazy might have taken my pleasantries as such," Jaskier said, worry twisting in his chest. "I need to make sure."

"Hmmm."

"Please don't leave me alone with him," Jaskier said quietly.

"I won't. You know I wouldn't do that to you," Geralt said firmly.

"I know."

Straightening his back, Jaskier opened the door to the antechamber of the office. Everything was just as it had been last time, even the secretary seemed to be wearing the same clothes. There was something calming about it.

"Jaskier. I didn't know you had arrived to Oxenfurt," Jan said from behind his desk, stopping scribing something.

"So everyone keeps saying." Jaskier shrugged. "Is the dean busy?"

"I think so," Jan said, starting to leaf through a calendar. With an apologetic smile he looked up and said, "Looks like he doesn't have any time for the next couple of days. Would you like to make an appointment?"

"Yes please. As soon as possible," Jaskier said, not sure if he was more relieved or disappointed he couldn't finish his task.

"Does three days from now at noon work for you?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Geralt looked around in wonder as they entered the library. The atrium they were passing through was high and filled with stained glass windows bathing the floor in colors, skillfully sculpted marble statues of people reading and holding scrolls in exaggeratedly ceremonial poses lining the path, each having a small placard showing their names and achievements. By all means it should have felt pompous, like there was far too much fuss over books yet somehow it managed to stay solemn and even beautiful.

"Can you imagine being so influential in arts and sciences that you'll be immortalized as a marble statue and placed where all future generations will pass it?" Jaskier whispered, mindful of the acoustics.

"I'd rather be forgotten," Geralt said quietly.

"Oh, my dearest Geralt, you will never be forgotten," Jaskier said, meeting his eyes.

"Not even Witchers live forever," Geralt pointed out.

"No, but songs and stories do. As long as there's people on this Continent to share them, you'll live on," Jaskier said, smiling softly. "And you, my love, will always have a part of me with you, no matter how many years pass. I may die but I'll never fully leave you. Each time you'll hear my songs or poems, it'll be me regardless of whose lips form the words."

Geralt wished he could make fun of how Jaskier had decided that his creations would become timeless classics. Instead he swallowed down a cold feeling and averted his eyes.

He didn't want to think about the difference in their life spans. Didn't want to be reminded that no matter what, he'd eventually lose Jaskier.

"Geralt?"

"It's nothing."

"...I made you sad, didn't I?"

"No."

"Geralt, I'm far from old. We'll have decades to spend together. Still, I'm just a human and there's nothing I can do about it. It's a fact that we age differently," Jaskier said. "I have made my peace with it but— but I understand if you hadn't thought about it and want to spare yourself the heartache. I'd never hold it against you."

"I won't leave you a second earlier than forced to," Geralt said fiercely, meeting Jaskier's eyes again. "Stop thinking that I'll walk out on you. It's not going to happen."

"We've never truly talked about the aging issue in depth. Other than that I do know that you don't want to leave me, whether or not I can always understand why," Jaskier said calmly and without even flinching at the tone.

It was good to see, especially knowing how on edge Jaskier was from everything.

"Aging isn't going to make me break up with you either," Geralt said shortly.

"I'm glad but if it ever gets too much, I won't blame you for it."

Geralt took a hissing breath through his teeth about to snap when wonder replaced the ire as Jaskier slowly and hesitantly touched the back of his hand.

Looking into the apprehensive blue eyes, Geralt turned his hand in a wordless offer to hold Jaskier's. One that was taken up on. It was suddenly much harder to remember what he had been about to say. Which was probably a good thing since most likely his words would have been harsher than intended.

"...You know, this might not be the best place for this conversation," Jaskier said, swinging their hands and making Geralt realize that they were still standing in the middle of the atrium.

Their words definitely had echoed much farther than meant despite the mostly quiet volume. At least there hadn't been anything too personal said. He'd still have preferred nothing to have been overheard.

Oh well. Too late now.

"Let's get those books," Geralt said, not letting go of Jaskier's hand as he walked deeper into the library.

The sheer amount of bookshelves was stunning.

He had known that Oxenfurt library was the largest one in Northern Kingdoms, only Nilfgaard's Imperial Academy's matching it in the South. Seeing the endless shelves and spiral staircases leading to upper floors filled with even more books for himself was still something else.

As was the way Jaskier led them unerringly through the labyrinth of it all.

"Here we go," Jaskier said, letting go of Geralt's hand to gesture around. "These are about codes. History, different languages, theories behind them, ciphering…"

"What's that?" Geralt asked, looking at a strange wheel with shelves that had a chair and a small table facing it so close that they almost touched.

"A bookwheel. You can place multiple books on it and rotate it to change which book you're reading. Really useful for research since you can keep each book open at the right place instead of stacking them up and bookmarking everything so they'll fit on the table," Jaskier said, pushing at the wheel to make it rotate slowly.

"Huh."

"Not that I'll use it. I'm not going to make you idly stand around," Jaskier said, starting to peruse the shelves.

It took less time than Geralt had expected for Jaskier to have an armful of books and deem himself ready. Signing the books out at one of the multiple desks was simpler than he had thought too, the clerk clearly recognizing Jaskier.

The way Jaskier got more and more anxious on their walk back to the inn however was just what he had expected to happen.

"Take a break," Geralt suggested when he noticed Jaskier flipping the ledger open after placing all the books on the table.

"But I—"

"Will do a better job when you're not tired," Geralt interrupted.

"Stop making sense," Jaskier grumbled, pouring himself water and sitting down on the bed.

"No."

"Hmph."

"How do you feel?" Geralt asked, sitting down next to Jaskier after getting confirmation it was fine.

"Well enough." Jaskier shrugged. "Not being able to have the meeting with dean Ignazy was probably for the best. I'd be far more anxious if I had talked with him."

"I'm glad," Geralt said. "I'll stay with you until you've calmed down but afterwards I need to go see if the victim has been identified."

"You can go now. I mean it, Geralt," Jaskier said seriously.

"Hmmm."

Finding out if more clues had been unearthed was important but so was Jaskier.

"I'll be fine. Yeah, I'm still nervous but you're right that it'll probably turn into tiredness soon and it'll be very boring for you," Jaskier said. "I'll just rest for a while and then get back to the ledger. You'd just be staring at me instead of doing something useful."

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked, hesitant to leave Jaskier alone.

"Yes."

"Alright." After fighting himself for a moment he requested, "Can I hug you?"

The soft smile appearing on Jaskier's lips made overcoming his instinctual difficulty asking for anything worth it. As much as Jaskier reassured him it was fine to do, it was definitely still a work in progress.

"Yes please," Jaskier said, embracing him.

"Hmmm."

Holding Jaskier gently, he breathed in the familiar scent of sunshine and green spring mixed with ink and lute polish. There were almost no traces of the sour note of anxiety left. Maybe leaving wouldn't be as bad an idea as he had feared.

"Stay safe," Jaskier said, voice slightly muffled by Geralt's shoulder.

"I'll do my best," Geralt promised, letting go only once Jaskier leaned back.

"I'll hold you to that," Jaskier said, watching Geralt as he geared up. When he was almost at the door Jaskier added, "Hey, Geralt?"

"Yeah?" Geralt asked, looking back at Jaskier.

"I love you," Jaskier said, blowing him a kiss.

Chuckling, Geralt shook his head. "Love you too. Don't be an idiot and rest up instead of running yourself to the ground."

"That's not a romantic goodbye," Jaskier pouted, eyes smiling.

"Never claimed to be one."

Geralt almost collided with Essi when he stepped out.

"Come with me," Essi said, grabbing his wrist and briskly leading him to her door. Opening it, she let go and pointed in the room. "In."

"What's going on?" Geralt asked, entering.

"I need to talk with you," Essi stated, stepping in after him and closing the door.

"So you stood in front of our door waiting?"

"Of course not. You almost hit me when I was about to knock," Essi said, gesturing for Geralt to take a seat in a chair while she sat down on the bed.

"Didn't mean to," Geralt said, rotating the chair so he could sit without having to take his swords off. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes and no." There was a pause when Essi apparently took in his armor and weapons. "Do you have time right now? You're hunting for that killer, aren't you?"

"If you're quick," Geralt said, having an inkling of what she'd want to talk about. Postponing it wouldn't be helpful and he didn't have a set time to get to the barracks.

"I'll do my best," Essi promised. "I already talked with Jaskier about this but since you weren't there I think I should do so with you too."

"You talked with Jaskier? When?" Geralt asked, surprised.

"Yesterday before his performance. He didn't tell you?"

"No," Geralt said, doing his best to keep the creeping irritation in check. Essi would never have intentionally triggered Jaskier even if their talk had been the reason for Jaskier's first panic attack.

"Alright, then I'll have to do this from scratch again," Essi sighed before visibly steeling herself and blowing her lock of hair away from her eye. "I'll be happy for you and Jaskier soon. It just took me completely off-guard that you've gotten together. I've always known that you don't love me in the slightest in a romantic sense and I've also always known that Jaskier is in love with you. He already was when I met you. There just never was any clear hints that you felt the same about him so you getting together seemed highly unlikely."

Geralt only nodded silently, waiting for Essi to continue.

"I've made my peace with your relationship by now and like I said, I'll soon be also happy for it. You two deserve each other," Essi said, voice softening.

"Hmmm."

It was good to hear that Essi's friendship with them wouldn't be forever damaged. Jaskier would have been devastated if it had happened. Not that he would have been unaffected either.

"So, you don't have to worry about me trying to get between you two, have to try avoiding me, or try to act like you're not together around me. I'm still your friend, just like before."

"I'm glad," Geralt said sincerely. Hopefully his short answers so far didn't make it seem like anything else.

"Since you asked me to be quick, let's get to the other topic I want to talk about with you; Jaskier," Essi said frankly, brushing the stubborn curl behind her ear.

"What about him?" Geralt asked, already knowing the answer.

"He's much more hurt than you wanted to make it seem, isn't he?" Essi asked, worry clear on her face and voice. "He's never had panic attacks before."

"What did you say to him?" Geralt asked apprehensively.

"I was talking about your relationship, and the hours we spent together when Jaskier left us alone back then," Essi said.

Well, fuck. No wonder Jaskier had an attack. That wasn't a topic he could handle from anyone else than him on occasion and even then it had to be approached carefully.

"Don't bring up sex when talking with him ever again," Geralt said forcefully, fighting against snarling at her.

Essi would never knowingly harm Jaskier.

He just needed to remember it.

"...Then… Oh gods, I really, really wanted to be wrong," Essi choked out, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I know what you think happened and…" Geralt trailed off, not sure what or how much to say. It wasn't his business telling what Jaskier went through. He also wasn't sure if letting Essi think the worst scenario had happened was the right thing to do. After a short pause, he decided to go with a similar answer as he had with Vesemir. "Things didn't go that far. I won't tell you anything else since it's Jaskier's decision and I'll never take it from him."

"Oh." There was relief in Essi's whisper despite the worry staying.

"Jaskier is doing much better than he did before but he's still …sensitive and not completely healed," Geralt continued carefully. "Let him go at his own pace. Don't make a fuss if he wants to leave almost immediately and don't pester him for answers or into doing something, no matter how jokingly. And we already told you but never touch him unless he asks for it."

"I won't," Essi said seriously. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Try to make sure no one else does those either. Reassuring things are alright and safe if he gets anxious would be good too and simply being there for him," Geralt advised her. "Try to treat him as always, just a bit gentler, I guess. He doesn't want your pity or to be a bother."

"He's my brother so of course he'll always be a bother," Essi said, flashing a smile. "But I understand and I do not pity him. Worry deeply, yes, but that? No."

"I know. Thank you," Geralt said, feeling relieved. It was good that Essi would be a little better equipped for all the changes Jaskier had gone through. It'd make all of their lives easier.

Geralt knocked on the door leading to sergeant Luiz's office, not worried about interrupting the conversation he could hear going on inside.

"Yes?" the sergeant asked.

"It's Geralt. Can I come in?"

Instead of an answer, Shani opened the door and let him in. "Hello, Geralt. You have perfect timing."

"Hi," Geralt greeted her, giving Luiz a nod. "I came to see if yesterday's victim has been identified yet."

"This morning. I heard you paid a visit to the earlier victims' families. Did you find anything?" Luiz asked in turn, looking curious.

"Mostly just confirmed in more detail what was told to me. I did find a well-hidden ledger, a sizable amount of gold, and a small box I haven't managed to open yet in Nowakowski's personal office," Geralt reported.

"Gold? And where's that at the moment?" Luiz asked, eyes turning suspicious.

The expression was far more familiar to a point of being normal. Had made Luiz's earlier attitude refreshing.

"In its original box in my room," Geralt said plainly. "I have no plans to keep it."

"You can trust him. Geralt wouldn't steal," Shani immediately vouched for him.

"I suppose you wouldn't have mentioned it if you were going to keep it," Luiz said, expression lightening. "Please bring it to us as soon as possible."

Hopefully it'd be returned instead of being pocketed. Luiz had seemed upstanding so far but corruption definitely wasn't unheard among city guards.

Still, it wasn't his problem.

"I will," Geralt said before changing the topic. "What are you doing here, Shani?"

"Just reporting that all information that can be garnered from the bodies has been found, so they can be returned to their families for funerals," Shani said.

"Hmmm."

"Before we get to that, you mentioned a ledger. What's it about?" Luiz asked, taking paper from his desk’s drawer and dipping a quill in ink.

"It's coded but I already have someone working on ciphering it," Geralt brushed it off.

Shani's expression made it clear she knew exactly who he meant but thankfully she stayed quiet. He had absolutely no desire to make Jaskier officially a part of the investigation and apparently she shared the sentiment.

"That's good, just keep me updated," Luiz said, quickly writing all the information down before looking up again. "The newest victim is Bendek Sitora, a librarian at the Oxenfurt academy."

Well, that was a slightly unnerving coincidence.

"He didn't have a significant other or maybe I should say that he had several, just nothing official like an engagement. You missed a bit of a spectacle since it turned out that some of the ladies and gentlemen weren't aware of each other," Luiz said, a hint of amusement shining through his professionalism. "While some mourned his passing, there also was rather colorful language hurled around about him, most notably —and I quote— 'cheating bastard and two-faced snake', 'pox-ridden dandy', and 'that good for nothing crapshooter probably fucking died just to avoid paying me back'. I find the last one especially interesting."

"He was a gambler with at least some debt?" Geralt asked, agreeing. "Do you know where he played?"

"At the Rolling Rook which is an above the board establishment despite the wordplay. If you want to visit it, you can find it at the harbor. The sign has a rather well painted rook —the bird— on it."

"I know the place," Shani added. "It's rather popular with academy students and Bendek was a recent alumnus."

"Sounds like a good place to see for myself," Geralt said thoughtfully.

"Agreed. People aren't particularly keen on talking to guards at such places," Luiz said before sharing the rest of the information about Sitora's personal life and known contacts.

In no time Geralt and Shani exited the barracks.

"Mind if I join you for lunch or are you going to have another date with Jaskier?" Shani asked, smiling.

"It wasn't a date but I don't mind. I'll just need to ask Jaskier if he agrees," Geralt said, heading towards the inn. "He might be too tired if he has been working on the code instead of resting."

"So it really is him working on it."

"He has a far better chance of cracking it than I would and he offered," Geralt said matter of fact.

"That's true." Shani nodded. "No offense but he's much better with words than you."

"He is," Geralt agreed. It definitely was no secret.

With that they lapsed into mostly silence until they were close to the inn. Only then did Geralt say, "I'll check with Jaskier if he feels up to socializing. I'll let you know if he declines."

"That's fine. I'll just grab a table and you two can join whenever if you want to," Shani said, opening the door for Geralt. "Give him my best in any case."

"I will," Geralt promised, heading upstairs.

"How did it go?" Jaskier asked when Geralt entered their room.

"Well. The newest victim has been identified," Geralt said before hesitating for a moment. "Did you know Bendek Sitora? I heard he was a recent academy alumnus and a librarian there."

"Bendek…" Jaskier mumbled, trying to remember. Shrugging, he admitted, "No, I can't remember anyone with that name."

"Hmmm."

"It's a huge place and if he graduated recently we wouldn't have shared any courses. Unless he attended my lectures but the name really doesn't ring any bells. Sorry I can't help," Jaskier said, placing the pen he had been twirling down onto the table. "Haven't really made any headway with the code either. It's definitely a skilled one."

"You did rest, right?" Geralt asked, raising his eyebrows.

"I did." For a bit.

"Good," Geralt said emphatically before continuing, "I met Shani again. She's downstairs getting lunch and asked if we'd like to join her."

"Oh," Jaskier said, surprised.

"We don't have to."

"...I think it could be nice. Haven't seen her in ages," Jaskier said slowly. And the thought of being around people didn't make his skin crawl so that was good. Heading to the door, Jaskier said with more conviction, "Let's join her."

There was a pleased gleam in Geralt's eyes when he glanced at him. It was nice. Geralt should always be happy.

It was easy to spot Shani even among the lunch crowd, her bright red hair standing out. Checking Geralt was right behind him, Jaskier made his careful way to her.

"Hi, Shani," Jaskier said nervously, knowing her professional gaze would surely spot everything physically wrong with him.

There was indeed a slight delay in her greeting, "Hello, Jaskier. It's been far too long since we last saw each other."

At least she was smiling. That was something.

"I was happy to hear from Geralt that you're around," Jaskier said, sitting down opposite her and relieved when Geralt took a seat next to him. "What have you been doing?"

"I've mostly been working at the clinic, taking some more courses at the academy, and helping the city guards on occasion. I'm sure Geralt has mentioned that I'm part of the current investigation," Shani said before pausing their conversation for long enough for them to order lunch as a barmaid stopped by their table.

"Oh, have you already started on your doctorate?" Jaskier asked once Shani and Geralt were done, happy for her. It hadn't been long since she finished her master's.

"This winter." Shani nodded, thankfully not saying anything about how he let Geralt order for him. "How about you? I heard you've been staying with Geralt but that leaves a lot of space for interesting stories."

It might not be a veiled inquiry about his terrible looks. Maybe. Probably was.

"Geralt and I are together," Jaskier said, the mere thought making him smile slightly.

"So he told me. Congratulations! I'm really happy for you two," Shani said, toasting with her drink.

"Thanks."

"What else? You always have new stories when we meet."

Yeah. Definitely probing.

"I spent the winter with Geralt and his family. They're absolutely wonderful people. Vesemir taught me how to cook, Eskel knitting, and Lambert how to fish with bombs," Jaskier said, redirecting the conversation.

"With bombs?" Shani laughed.

"Yep. You make a hole in the ice and drop one in. Afterwards you can just throw them. Lambert makes specific ones for it so the water doesn't mess with the ignition," Jaskier explained, smiling at the memory. "It's honestly a lot of fun."

"I'm still surprised that you didn't lose any fingers," Geralt said.

"Lambert is more careful than you give him credit for," Jaskier protested. "As am I."

"Hmmm."

"I find you knowing how to cook almost as unbelievable as the bomb fishing," Shani said, still grinning.

"I got pretty good actually. Vesemir is a great teacher, although he's a fencing instructor."

"Did he make you brush up on your swordsmanship too?" Shani asked.

"You knew Jaskier has some training?" Geralt asked, surprised.

"Of course I knew. It's just natural for a—“

"No, Vesemir didn't make me pick up a sword," Jaskier interrupted. Geralt didn't need to know about him being a noble. And definitely not from anyone but him. "Lambert however taught me some self-defense skills."

It was lucky that Geralt's suspicious look was interrupted by their food arriving. Although, he could have done without Shani's small frown as she watched him eat slowly and not because of talking incessantly. Thankfully Geralt was sincerely interested in what Shani had been doing so his steadily dwindling words didn't make the lunch too awkward.

Trying not to think about how much earlier Geralt and Shani had finished their food, Jaskier placed his spoon down and quietly asked, "Shani? Would you like to come up to our room? I know you have questions and this really isn't the place for them."

Geralt was right. It'd be good to have Shani's professional opinion on things. He'd just… need to get over himself.

"Sure, lead the way," Shani said seriously.

The walk to their room took ridiculously long, each step as heavy as his heart.

At least Geralt stood right by his side once Shani and he sat down. It was calming having Geralt so close. Guarding him. Despite there being nothing to be on guard against. Shani was safe.

"...I haven't been well since last summer," Jaskier said, breaking the silence and staring at Shani's feet, unable to meet her eyes.

"You do look sick," Shani agreed. "Do you know what's causing it or should I examine you? That's why you asked me here, isn't it?"

"Please don't touch me," Jaskier said quickly, starting to fidget with his beads. "And yeah, we know what's causing all this. It's just… Geralt thought that maybe you'd have some advice…"

"I need to know what's wrong before I can help," Shani said, eyes worried.

"Mmhmm."

It was kind of Geralt to let him hold his hand when requested. The physical connection was like a lifeline, helping him stay in control.

It was also kind of Shani not to hurry him.

"I— I got traumatized. Badly," Jaskier mumbled, aware of the way Shani straightened her posture attentively. "It's been difficult dealing with it. It really messed me up and my physical health too decided to go completely haywire. Frequent headaches and even migraines sometimes. Lost a lot of weight rapidly but I've managed to get at least some back. Sleeping issues and fatigue. Phantom pains and touches. Hands shake far too often. Nausea and difficulty eating. Things like that."

"Those are common symptoms." Shani nodded. "Trauma can affect your whole system, not only mental health, for a long time."

It was good to hear Shani echoing Vesemir's words. As knowledgeable and experienced Vesemir was, he wasn't a trained medic.

Squeezing Geralt's hand tighter and voice getting thicker from impending tears, Jaskier continued, "I also get panic attacks and flashbacks. Am anxious and depressed most of the time. Dissociate occasionally. I'm also really touch averse towards everyone but Geralt. Can't always handle him either. I have some absolutely ridiculous triggers too."

Listing things that had broken in him was easier than explaining what had happened.

Tears were still starting to run down his cheeks and looking anywhere near Shani was impossible.

"They aren't ridiculous," Geralt protested immediately.

"They are," Jaskier said, wanting to wipe the tears away but unable to let go of either Geralt or his beads.

"Jaskier, there really are no such things. Uncommon maybe but even those still stem from the hurt," Shani said calmly.

"I can't handle a fucking bathtub," Jaskier chuckled bitterly, tears falling faster. "On a good day I can barely brush one with my fingertips before I need to leave or will have a breakdown. And achieving even that has taken months.

There was the briefest flash of surprise on Shani's face before it was masked under professionalism when Jaskier glanced at her.

"Yes, that's uncommon but there's no reason for you to be ashamed of it. Sometimes triggers can be very specific," Shani said seriously, reading him correctly.

Jaskier could only shrug, trying not to outright sob and to keep all the memories from swallowing him whole.

"It started early summer last year. I was invited to play at a minor king's ball. I accepted, got Geralt to join me," Jaskier said, feeling Geralt's fingers twitch in surprise. He clearly hadn't expected him to go farther than asking help managing the symptoms.

It really would be easier like that but Shani probably needed the whole picture and was also sworn to silence through her profession. There'd be no chance of rumors starting nor would she be distraught for his behalf the same way Essi would. She had heard and encountered so much worse than what had happened.

"King Marden really liked me, asked me to go for a walk in the gardens with him. Called me and my music beautiful before offering me patronage if I'd stay with him. I refused. He didn't like it. Slammed me against a tree while strangling me," Jaskier continued, tugging at his beads. "Threatened to decapitate Geralt and make me watch before running his sword through me slowly if I tried to leave."

Breathing was difficult but he was still getting words out.

It was good enough.

"He didn't bluff. Geralt tried to get us out but we got caught. Probably because I drunkenly tried to protest against it rather loudly," Jaskier said, voice hitching as guilt surged. He had been such an idiot. Had placed Geralt in danger with his actions. Didn't matter that he had been on a mission to get blackout drunk in as little time as possible until Geralt interrupted him before managing it.

Ignoring Geralt's displeased noise and the rapidly disappearing oxygen, Jaskier kept going, "Geralt got stabbed when the guards subdued him. Marden started slowly digging his sword into Geralt's throat, making me watch from close enough to see every detail. He stopped only once— once I promised to do anything if he'd spare Geralt."

It was nice how Shani kept quiet, just letting him talk.

It was the only nice thing currently.

Lifting his feet onto the chair to curl into himself, Jaskier let go of Geralt's hand. The touch was starting to burn.

"They took Geralt to the dungeon, made sure he wouldn't die from the wound. Marden led me to a luxurious room. I didn't know what to do so I just stood there until—"

Gods, there really was no air left. Pressing his forehead against his knees didn't help grounding him. There were bolts of lightning coursing through his veins and everything felt slightly removed.

"Marden said he wanted me to be comfortable, started to play with me like a doll. Took my doublet off as a guise to touch me and pushed me to sit on the bed so he could wash my face and arrange my hair the way he liked," Jaskier whispered, memories flashing behind his closed eyelids and each of Marden's touch echoing. Having his hair sheared short wasn't helping. There still were fingers playing with it. "I wasn't comfortable. I wasn't. Please."

"I believe you," Shani said quietly.

"He left me alone for the night. Came back in the morning with servants bringing a bathtub and water. Didn't leave me alone this time. Turned away to let me disrobe and get in. Said he 'didnt mind indulging me for now'. Washed my hair. I hated it. I didn't tell him to stop. At any point," Jaskier sobbed, feeling the fingers massaging his scalp and water suddenly poured on him, making him sputter and miss air. "I have scars on my lower back. Nekkers, last spring. Marden didn't like that, they make me damaged. He liked bruises. Called them beautiful like flowers."

There were fingers ghosting over the scars, tracing them down, down, down on his lower back until meeting the towel around his hips.

"He beat me with a loose chair leg. I trashed the room during the night. Ended up stepping on porcelain shards. Tripped. Marden stopped when he hit my ribs instead of the scars, wanted me to sing for his wife. Cupped my face and called my eyes beautiful. Shoved clothes at me. Stopped indulging me, not turning around."

He could feel each hit, pain radiating from long gone bruises and lacerated sole.

Nothing else felt real.

Not like Marden.

Not like the pain and the hungry eyes on him.

He wasn't sure how he was still talking.

He wasn't sure if he was still talking.

He might just as well actually be still with Marden, living it all.

He didn't want to be.

Didn't.

But he had promised to do anything, anything at all. And he would have.

So maybe he hadn't left.

Maybe Geralt hadn't killed Marden.

"He kept calling me Songbird."

The endearment rang in his ears, making it impossible to hear anything else.

"I was so afraid of what he did to me, to Geralt. Of what he wanted to do to me. I still am. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He wasn't exactly sure what he was sorry for. But he knew he had fucked up.

He wasn't perfect, was full of flaws. It wasn't allowed.

Had gotten Geralt hurt. Almost killed.

Or killed?

Maybe Geralt was dead.

The mere thought wrenched his broken heart into even smaller pieces. Or maybe all of him was shattering and scattering in the wind until it'd be impossible to put him back together. There was nothing but pain and terror and worry and failure and guilt and pain and fear and fear and fear. He was so afraid.

Wasn't strong enough.

"Jaskier."

He was breaking, had already broken from it all. Yet it could have been so much worse.

"Jaskier, focus on me."

Would have been within an hour if Geralt hadn't been there.

He just wasn't strong enough.

"Jaskier, you're safe. It was almost a year ago, you're not there anymore. It's safe. You just need to look around and tell me what you see."

That wasn't Marden's voice. No endless whispers of Songbird, Songbird, Songbird, of how Marden owned him, of how he had been paid for even before stepping into the castle.

Opening his eyes was difficult, seeing through his tears even harder. But there were familiar worried golden eyes looking into his. Which meant that Geralt was—

"Not dead?"

"I'm not. I'm right here and it's safe. We're at The Song and Rose and Shani is with us. It's safe. Can you tell me what's around us?"

Taking a shuddering and shallow breath, Jaskier tried to focus, "...You… …Shani… …Bed… …Table… Lute case… Saddlebags. Saddlebags."

Those hadn't been at the prison disguised as a luxurious room. Made it easier to remember and keep murmuring the words as he looked around the room despite how low his perspective was.

Jaskier had no idea how long had passed when he met Geralt's eyes again. "Hi."

"Hi yourself," Geralt said softly. "Don't try to sit up yet, give yourself time to calm down a bit more."

Oh. He had once again curled up on the floor. But Geralt was right, trying to move would probably just make him nauseous and lightheaded. Better to stay still and keep breathing.

"Did you hurt yourself?" Shani asked, voice as soft as Geralt's.

"I don't think so. I just… tend to kind of lose muscle control when having a flashback or bad enough panic attack," Jaskier said quietly, unable to meet her eyes. "It's fine. I'm fine."

"You're not fine, Jaskier," Shani stated. "That's why you asked me to come here in the first place."

That was true.

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Sorry," Jaskier said, unable to keep the word in and slowly sat up. It made his head throb with pain but there was no nausea so he counted it as a win.

"Do you want help getting to bed?" Geralt asked.

"...Don't touch me," Jaskier whispered, managing to heave himself upright with the help of his chair. The few unsteady steps to the bed took far too much effort but at least he'd be able to rest now.

After removing his boots that is. Which he couldn't do it with Shani there as ridiculous as it was.

"Shani? Could you— Do you mind if… I'm tired."

"Of course. I'll let you rest now and we can continue our talk later when you feel better," Shani said, standing up. There was a small sad smile on her lips when Jaskier looked at her. "Jaskier, thank you for trusting me. I'll think of what you told me so I'll have some recommendations ready next time we meet."

"Thank you," Jaskier said quietly, closing his eyes and willing the tears to stay away. He had already cried too much.

"Thank you, Shani," Geralt said, walking her to the door from the sounds of it. By the time Jaskier had tugged his boots off, Geralt appeared at his side. "Here, water and a painkiller for your headache. Brought also your weighted blanket if you'd like it."

"Thanks. Please."

His words were steadily dwindling but Geralt still understood him. That wonderful caring man.

"Sleep, Jaskier. I'll wake you up when it's getting late," Geralt said, gently placing the heavy blanket on Jaskier and taking the empty vial and mug.

"But the investigation?"

"Don't worry about it. I'll take a crack at the puzzle box. That's enough for now," Geralt said.

It definitely wasn't but he really had no energy left for arguing about it. So instead Jaskier just shifted around to find a comfortable position and let sleep drag him down.

Chapter Text

It was considerably darker when Jaskier woke up. Groaning, he sat up only for his heart to drop as he saw the empty room.

Surely Geralt would have woken him up if he had to leave for work instead of disappearing without a word? Which meant that something had to have gone wrong.

Jaskier bolted up, looking frantically around for clues.

He couldn't find anything wrong. The two chairs were still upright, one of them moved back to the table. All the books and papers and Geralt's findings were neatly stacked instead of strewn around. Their things and saddlebags as they had been. Window closed. No bloodstains. No signs of a fight. No—

The door opened, Geralt entering silently and carrying a large tray of food and drinks.

"You're awake," Geralt said, clearly surprised.

Jaskier could only stare, words gone.

"Hey, it's alright. I just went to get us food," Geralt said calmly, placing the tray on the table. "Everything is fine. Can you take a deep breath for me, Jaskier?"

It was far harder than it should be but he managed after a few tries.

"Sit down, you're shaking."

It sounded like a good idea.

Jaskier sat down in the chair nearest to him.

"Didn't mean to disappear on you. You were still deeply asleep when I went downstairs to get us supper so I didn't expect you to wake up anytime soon," Geralt explained, handing Jaskier a bowl of soup.

He was getting tired of soup. Trying to eat something solid would probably be doomed to fail. The bread in the morning hadn't gone very well.

"Can you speak at the moment?" Geralt asked, frowning.

"...I... Yeah," Jaskier mumbled, words far stickier than supposed to. But at least they were returning and talking didn't feel like chewing glass. "Sorry. I got startled, not seeing you. Thought something bad happened."

"I should have woken you," Geralt said, glancing at Jaskier's shaking hands.

"It's fine. I overreacted," Jaskier said, eating the first spoonful. It tasted like dust.

"Hmmm."

"Geralt, you're free to go as you please. I mean it," Jaskier said seriously. "My reactions are mine to deal with, not your responsibility. Don't let me hold you back from doing something. Besides, I'm just still rattled from the flashback."

"Hmmm."

A bit better hum.

"I'll be fine in a few minutes," Jaskier reassured, glad that the shaking was calming down. It was nice not having to worry about spilling the soup because of trembling hands.

"I still should have let you know. It's no hardship to be mindful of you," Geralt said, sitting down and starting on his food.

"You're too good to me."

"I'm not."

Deciding they wouldn't be getting anywhere, Jaskier changed the topic, "If you brought us supper, it's getting closer to my performance, isn't it?"

"It is." Geralt nodded.

"You really should have woken me up earlier," Jaskier said, looking outside to gauge the time.

"You needed the sleep," Geralt said simply.

Jaskier could only sigh, annoyed that Geralt was right. Flashbacks were exhausting, far more so than even the worst panic attacks.

"What did you do while I slept?" Jaskier asked, hoping Geralt hadn't neglected his duties.

"Tried to take a crack at the code and the puzzle box. I got fucking nowhere. Maybe I should just cut the box open," Geralt said, glaring at the small wooden box.

"And accidentally break whatever is inside it?"

"Could be worth it," Geralt grumbled.

"We both know you're not going to force it open. Yet at least. Maybe in a day or two," Jaskier said, pointing at Geralt with his spoon.

"Hmmm."

"...Did I scare you?" Jaskier asked after a moment of silence.

"What?" Geralt asked, looking startled.

"You're being really short, barely saying more than one sentence at a time. I know I at least surprised you by sharing what happened with Shani and you hate seeing me like that. Not that I like flashbacks either," Jaskier said.

"You didn't scare me but you're right that I don't like seeing you in such pain," Geralt said seriously. "Still, I'm glad you told Shani. She'll be able to help better now. It's also good to see that the aftermath of the flashback wasn't as bad as before."

"So am I. It's nice to feel like a person instead of a lump of fear, exhaustion, and paranoia," Jaskier agreed. "I honestly think that I'll be able to perform better than yesterday."

"That's great," Geralt said, eyes warm.

"You'll still stay with me, right? As long as duty doesn't call, that is," Jaskier checked.

"I will," Geralt promised.

"Thank you, dear heart," Jaskier said, ignoring Geralt's displeased look as he placed the half-full bowl back on the tray. He'd finish it later after his stomach would settle down again.

Hands freed, Jaskier went to pick up his lute and sit down on the bed to tune it. After a while the familiar sounds of Geralt sharpening a dagger joined in, making some of the lingering tension in Jaskier's shoulders melt away. The pleasant moment carried him almost to the bottom of the stairs before anxiety surged again when it was time for his performance. It was a shame he had to part with Geralt.

A few empty pleasantries with the previous bard and Jaskier walked to stand in the middle of the stage.

Deciding it'd be safest to pretend to focus on his audience by looking slightly over their heads, Jaskier shortly introduced himself, "My esteemed audience, I'm Jaskier the bard and here to delight you with sweet songs of love and epics of gallant deeds."

It was nice for his voice not to tremble.

The first notes still were more hesitant than supposed to.

Maybe one day he'd get over his performance anxiety but for now being so focused on was highly unpleasant to the point of frightening. He'd still never give up his career, let alone music. So much had been wrenched from him but this he absolutely refused to let Marden take from him.

At least he was playing better than yesterday, having had time to sleep and recover from his attack.

As his set was coming to an end, Jaskier launched into the song he had composed during the winter;

"Winter winds,
Cruel and faultfinding,
Vicious yet spellbinding,
Call my name;

Follow, follow, follow us,

Leave your home and love,
Be the mourning dove,
Fly away on our wings,
Discard everything,
And forget

Am I truly lost,
Or am I only afraid of the cost,
Of letting others see what's inside,
Of my trembling heart,
Am I truly so broken,
That all I can is to fly,
On the wings of winter winds

For they are calling, singing

Follow, follow, follow us,
Leave your home and love,
Be the mourning dove,
Fly away on our wings,
Discard everything,
And forget

Is there a way to leave the cold,
To break their hold,
To be like snowmelt joining a raging river,
To be a part of something,
To hold someone

And resist

For the winds keep singing, calling;
Follow, follow, follow us,
Leave your home and love

Yet I'd rather stay"

Letting the last chord reverberate, Jaskier exhaled slowly and finally looked at the audience. It was a familiar scene, barmaids weaving around the crowd and customers filling the tavern with laughter and conversation while drinking and eating.

He found Geralt sitting at a nearby table with some of his friends. After bowing once at the applause and hastily wishing luck to the next bard, Jaskier hurried to Geralt. Only once seated next to him did Jaskier truly pay attention to the people sharing the table. Essi and Tymon were no surprise, nor were Suzanna and Antoni. Meeting Valdo's eyes made Jaskier's heart drop. He had known avoiding him would be impossible but it didn't make the situation any better.

"Hi," Jaskier said quietly, quickly looking away. Maybe if he ignored Valdo, he'd follow his cue.

"Julian, I see your fashion sense has changed since last we saw. You must tell me your new tailor and barber," Valdo said, looking him up and down slowly.

Jaskier couldn't help flinching. He really should have known better. At least Geralt hadn't reacted at Valdo calling him by his given name, so that was something. He definitely didn't want to explain it to Geralt in front of everyone.

"Leave it, Valdo," Essi snapped immediately.

"Just wondering," Valdo said easily, sipping wine.

"Your new song is beautiful," Tymon said, pushing the large charcuterie board at the center of the table towards Jaskier.

It was sweet. As was Geralt pouring him water.

"Thanks," Jaskier said, taking a cracker to nibble on.

"You can truly feel the yearning in it. I'm sure it'll be popular with those with a broken heart," Suzanna said softly, staring at her drink.

"Thanks," Jaskier repeated, wishing he had a better reply. He had no doubt that Suzanna was counting herself in with the brokenhearted.

He also wished he could have done something else than saying it again and again as some of the audience came up to him, both to offer money and attempt chit chatting with him. It was nice how Geralt kept people from trying to touch or flirt with him. Essi trying to do the same was endearing. He felt almost safe, sitting between them.

It was after the last of the appreciative listeners left that Antoni asked, "You stayed the winter with Geralt, right? Was the Witchers' keep as mystical as it sounds?"

Geralt's unimpressed look at the description was enough to make Jaskier smile.

"It was beautiful and sad yet filled with warmth and laughter. A home to return to," Jaskier said softly. "I hadn't had one in a long time."

"Maybe you would have if you didn't always run away. I'm surprised you didn't do so during the winter but perhaps the snow was too high," Valdo said, staring at him over his goblet before focusing on Geralt. "I'd prepare for Julian inevitably finding that warmth and laughter somewhere else if I were you. We all know he's rather …free with his love."

Jaskier felt like he had been punched.

He wanted to protest, to say he hadn't been nor even wanted to be with anyone but Geralt since last summer. To remind Valdo that he had been just as free, had in fact been the first to do so, and that he could go fuck himself.

"Tread very carefully," Geralt said, voice low and almost as cutting as his swords.

"Valdo, could you try to be civil?" Antoni sighed.

"But I am," Valdo said, gesturing at himself. "I haven't said a single thing that's not true. I simply think master Witcher should know that in advance to avoid possible heartache. Our dear Julian is so accomplished in the art of it."

"That's it, we're leaving," Geralt ground out, standing up and waiting for Jaskier to follow suit.

It was far more difficult than it should be, his legs numb and fingers tingling. Somehow he still managed to grab his lute, bid some sort of goodbyes, and follow Geralt back to their room.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier whispered, placing his instrument back into its case gently.

"For what?" Geralt asked, watching him.

Everything.

"I don't want to be with anyone but you. Please believe me," Jaskier said, turning to face Geralt.

"I do believe you," Geralt said, no ounce of suspicion on his face. "That was Valdo Marx, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry you had to meet him."

"You're again apologizing for things that aren't your fault," Geralt sighed. After a short pause, he asked, "Is your name Julian Pankratz?"

"Julian Alfred Pankratz. Sorry I haven't told you. I just… Don't use it almost at all," Jaskier said, fidgeting with his beads. "I prefer Jaskier, chose it for myself like I told you last summer."

"I don't mind you not telling me. I've had almost a year to ask, and your name is whatever you decide it to be." Geralt shrugged. "You cut Shani off when she was going to say something about your swordsmanship. Was that related?"

"...Sort of," Jaskier said quietly, looking away.

"Hmmm?"

"The Pankratz family is… well-known. And there's things that I needed to do —still have to on occasion— to upkeep the prestige. Learning sword fighting being one," Jaskier said, switching to nervously tugging at his beads. "An heir not knowing fencing would have been preposterous."

"An heir," Geralt said in a tone Jaskier couldn't decipher.

"I don't know if you know Lettenhove but… Uh. My family …governs it. I visit as little as possible but I— I still am a viscount," Jaskier mumbled.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Geralt asked in the same tone. His expression didn't give any clues either when Jaskier glanced at him.

"It never came up. Wasn't relevant."

"If it's not relevant then why did you try to hide it?"

"I was afraid," Jaskier whispered.

"What? Why?" Geralt asked sharply, visibly tensing.

"That you'd tell me to fuck off and never come back." Maybe Geralt would do so now. But he couldn't take the words back and truthfully, Geralt deserved to know. "The pogroms were led by priests and mages but they did have nobles' silent and not so silent blessing, probably funding too. They were part of destroying Kaer Morhen, your peers and family. And you said it yourself; 'nobles are best taken in small doses'. I heard you talking with Mousesack back in Cintra. You already found me annoying and I— I was afraid that'd be the last straw."

Geralt's silence was deafening.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said quietly.

"Do you really trust me that little?" Geralt asked, anger and hurt warring in his tone.

"No! Geralt, I trust you more than anyone," Jaskier exclaimed. "I really do."

"But not enough to trust that I wouldn't judge you for being born in the upper class, something you had no say over," Geralt snapped, eyes darkening.

"That's not—"

"That's exactly it," Geralt said, walking to his armor.

He didn't want to cry. He really didn't. It didn't stop the tears.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Jaskier gasped, frozen in place as he watched Geralt don his armor and sling his swords over his shoulder.

Geralt was leaving.

Just like he had known.

He shouldn't have said anything.

It'd be even worse if —when— Geralt would have heard it from someone else.

"Geralt, please. I— Please."

"I'm going to check out The Rolling Rook. Meant to do it anyway," Geralt said, voice clipped. "I'll be back."

"Geralt…" Jaskier pleaded, door closing after Geralt before he managed to even finish.

Fuck.

How many fucking times would he have to listen to Jaskier think he was one misstep away from abandoning him? Each time he thought they had settled the matter, it'd crop up again and again, only the details changing. He had absolutely no fucking idea what he was supposed to say, to do, to finally make Jaskier realize for good that it wasn't going to happen. It was even worse knowing that Jaskier's distrust had been there from the very start instead of being brought on by the feast and Marden. It couldn't have helped but Jaskier had had years to share.

Geralt strode briskly towards the harbor, the cooling night air feeling good on his skin and people parting for him in hurry as he seethed.

It wasn't even about being a noble, like Jaskier probably thought. It changed nothing except finally explaining some of Jaskier's habits, and that they'd eventually have to visit Lettenhove when duty would call and Jaskier wouldn't be able to refuse.

Not being trusted fucking hurt.

As did knowing that he himself had sown the seed of mistrust with his words and actions.

He already knew that having tested what would make Jaskier finally leave at the beginning had left permanent marks, both in his own poor behavior and Jaskier. He definitely hadn't meant for an idle comment aimed at someone else to join in.

Hissing in frustration, Geralt reached the harbor.

Ignoring drunk sailors, a couple of prostitutes calling out for him, and the unpleasant smell of old fish and urine he continued walking until he found The Rolling Rook. For an establishment popular with academy students, it wasn't in a good area. Not in a dangerous one per se either but still surprising. Maybe they wanted to keep their gambling habits far from where teachers might come across them by chance.

It was a relief that the air smelled much better inside.

The spacious dimly lit room he had entered was filled with tables of various sizes, most occupied by a mixed crowd of sailors and other workers as well as much better dressed academy students. It was nice how he didn't garner immediate attention, most too engrossed in their games to pay mind to a new patron arriving.

Passing a staircase guarded by a burly man, Geralt reached the bar.

"Welcome, welcome! How may I help?" The bartender asked, handing an ale to another customer.

"I'm in the mood for some Gwent but haven't been here before. How does joining the games work?" Geralt asked, watching a well-dressed man briefly show something to the bouncer before going up the stairs.

"In that case, welcome to The Rolling Rook!" The bartender smiled. "There's open tables that everyone is free to join and leave as they please. You can recognize them by the painted dice carving on them. You only need to be able to match the bets to play, be it against the house or another patron. That goes for all the games you can find here. Tables without the carving are reserved for private parties but there's no rule against asking to join in. Just be prepared to be declined."

Geralt nodded to show he was listening despite observing the room.

"Now, I see you have a rather impressive pair of swords but it should go without saying that using them if luck isn't with you tonight isn't allowed. Neither are fists. We do have a boxing ring in the joint room over there in case you feel like taking part in something more physical," the bartender continued, gesturing to a doorway to his left where telltale sounds of fists meeting flesh and jeering were originating.

"And upstairs?"

"That's reserved for private games with high stakes."

Interesting.

"How do I get accepted?" Geralt asked casually.

"A familiar question, people always want to take a peek," the bartender laughed, pouring a shot of Mahakam spirit for another customer. "First of all, you'll need to play and win games here to show you have both the skills and money. Like I said, it's only high stakes there so being average doesn't make it. I'll be frankly surprised if you manage to impress the overseers on this floor in one night. Almost everyone up there are loyal patrons."

"I do like a challenge," Geralt said.

"That's the spirit! Now, would you like something to drink or eat?" the bartender asked.

"Beer would be great," Geralt agreed, deciding against asking about the victims quite yet. Letting the house know of his interest in more than gambling wouldn't help getting him upstairs.

Tankard in hand Geralt made his way to the games, looking for an uneven group of drunk students who seemed at home.

Spotting a promising one at an open table, he asked, "Mind a fourth?"

"Not at all! Watching those two is getting boring," a young brunet said, shoving tankards and shot glasses to the side to make space for playing.

"Not our fault you lost last game," one of the players said, not glancing up from her cards as Geralt sat down.

"Yeah, yeah," the brunet said, starting to shuffle his cards. "I'm Jarek and my friends here are Miloš and Kornelia."

"Geralt," Geralt introduced himself and took out a deck of his own, getting a chorus of hellos. Shuffling, he asked, "What faction do you play?"

"Nilfgaard is my strongest, been collecting them for some time now," Jarek said, placing his deck face down on the table to open his money pouch. "Ten crowns sound good to you?"

"Did Kornelia beat your ass so badly that you're afraid to go higher than that?" Miloš laughed, placing a Ballista to his own unit.

"I'm not drunk enough to bet all my money against a deck I haven't even seen a glimpse of!" Jarek protested only to take a long drink out of his tankard.

"Ten is fine," Geralt said, adding his bet onto the small pile of crowns between them and flipping a coin to see who would start. "Have you already been playing for long tonight?"

"A couple of hours so the night is still young. I don't even have any early lectures tomorrow. …Not that you look like you'd have any either," Jarek said, placing the first card down.

"I'm not a student but I have visited the academy on occasion. Went to the library today, in fact," Geralt said, matching the move.

"Really?"

"A friend needed some books and wanted to see if Bendek Sitora was working. Apparently he owes him some money," Geralt said, placing a Commander's Horn down and making Jarek grimace as his points shot up.

"Isn't that the high roller who got thrown out by Pawel a couple of days ago?" Kornelia asked, looking up from her cards for the first time.

Now he definitely needed to get upstairs.

"Who's Pawel? The owner?" Geralt asked, satisfied as Jarek lost the first round.

"Nah, that's Pawel," Miloš said, pointing at the burly man guarding the stairs before sighing as Kornelia won their game. "He's in charge of the security here. People don't tend to try to even argue with him since he's got a pretty mean streak. Good for keeping fights to the minimum but if one does break out, you definitely don't want to be anywhere near him. Is this your first time here?"

"Hmmm." Geralt nodded, opening the second round against Jarek. "Do people get thrown out often?"

"No, I've heard of it happening but that was the first time I've seen it happen. From the shouting it seemed like Sitora was trying to place bets he couldn't afford, invalid deeds and such. Don't cheat or start a fight and you'll be just fine," Kornelia said, focusing on Geralt's game and downing a shot. "Want to play against me once you win?"

"I haven't lost yet," Jarek grumbled.

"You will in a minute," Kornelia stated.

She was right too, Jarek losing only a little later.

"Fifty crowns?" Kornelia suggested, already placing the coins down.

"Sounds good," Geralt agreed, shuffling his deck. "So, I should stay on Pawel's good side. Any other tips since I want to keep playing here? Upstairs sounds like an interesting place."

"I think half of the people here would like to get into that club, me included. But I don't have enough money or time to hang out here night after night," Kornelia said, drawing cards from her Scoia'tael deck. "Apparently it's almost like another gambling den up there, one that's much fancier."

"Hmmm."

"I've been visiting this place once in a while for a couple of years and people seem to get promoted when they keep winning too much, especially against the house. I guess it's bad for business," Miloš said, handing Jarek a tankard.

"Well, people don't like to play if they only lose," Jarek said, taking a long drink.

"Unless they are you," Kornelia said, lips twitching as she tried to keep from grinning.

"Sod off, Kornelia," Jarek grumbled, grabbing a nut from a bowl on the table and throwing it at her.

"Maybe I should try my luck with playing against the house then," Geralt mused. "I guess the people with the red armbands are staff?"

"Yeah. Whoever owns this place likes organizing, I guess. Makes things simpler, though, so it's not a bad thing," Jarek said.

"You don't know who the owner is?"

"I do. Her name is Joanna Lis but she doesn't visit The Rolling Rook very often and when she does, she either talks with the staff or heads upstairs. I think she was here a couple of days ago so she might show up next month—" Miloš interjected, only to pause as a heavyset middle-aged woman in a rouge low cut dress entered the den and briskly headed to the stairs. As she disappeared upstairs, Miloš said, "...I stand corrected. That was her."

"Dramatic timing," Geralt said, pushing down the urge to get up and follow her. Getting into an altercation with a bouncer who apparently liked fighting would only get him banned.

"Almost poetic." Jarek nodded.

"I wonder why she's already back," Miloš said.

"Probably something involving Sitora and his lack of money." Kornelia shrugged. Pursing her lips and folding her cards, she said, "Looks like I too have a sudden and acute lack of money. Congratulations, Geralt. You win."

"Good game," Geralt said, filling his money pouch with his winnings. "Thank you for playing and the tips. I'll try my luck against the house next."

"No problem! I hope you'll keep winning so us losing won't look too bad," Jarek said, his friends more or less echoing the sentiment.

It didn't take long to find one of the staff members sitting at an open table, idly observing the patrons.

"Feel up to Gwent?" Geralt asked, nodding at the faction decks in front of the croupier.

"Of course. Do you have a deck of your own or would you like to use one of ours?" the croupier asked with a polite smile, gesturing to Geralt to take a seat.

"I have my own," Geralt said, doing as suggested and pretending to take a longer sip of his beer than he actually did.

"Any preference on what faction I should play?"

"No, that won't affect the outcome," Geralt said, placing both his cards and money pouch on the table. "Would a bet of fifty crowns be an acceptable starting bet?"

"More than a generous one if you're looking to keep raising it," the croupier said, evaluating look in her eyes.

Good. He had her attention.

Now he'd just need to keep winning against a professional with the best deck money could get.

"I am. I've heard that you can find skilled opponents and high stakes up here," Geralt said, giving a leading glance at the ceiling.

The quirk of the croupier's smile told his not-so-subtle reference was caught.

"We'll see," she said, picking up and starting to shuffle the Monsters faction deck.

After taking out the starting bet, Geralt followed suit by deftly shuffling his Northern Kingdoms deck before drawing cards from it, and a coin flip later he opened the game. It turned out to go much smoother than he had expected, the croupier getting ahead only enough for them to need a third round before he won.

A smart move; Bolstering the player's confidence and luring them into playing more. The house could more than afford losing a bit at the start, especially with someone boasting about their plans for high stakes.

Upping the bet by the fifty crowns he had won, Geralt requested another round.

He could tell that the croupier played more seriously this time despite it still ending up as his win.

Once again placing his winnings completely into raising the bet Geralt took a swig of his beer, keeping eye contact. He was met with just as steady a look.

"You know your way around cards, don't you?" the croupier said, elaborately shuffling her deck.

"I have played once or twice," Geralt agreed easily.

"Passes the time between monsters?" The croupier asked, twirling her chosen Monsters faction leader card between her fingers before placing it on the table.

"More or less."

All he got was a polite smile and her starting the game. He got to close it as the winner.

The professional smile did dim briefly as he once again placed everything into his bet.

"Would you like me to get you another drink, sir?" The croupier asked, adjusting her armband.

In his peripheral vision Geralt could see the bouncer shift slightly closer to them.

"Sure, why not. I'm almost done with mine," Geralt said, pretending he hadn't noticed it or the fact that they had started to draw other patrons' attention.

"I'll be right back with it," the croupier said, taking her cards and heading to the bar where the bouncer and the bartender met her.

Before Geralt had time to see more, his view was blocked by Kornelia approaching him. Eyes wide as she took in the large pile of coins on the table, she said, "I see you've used my money well."

"It was a nice starting point," Geralt said, futilely trying to see past her as more people gathered around him.

"You definitely weren't joking about wanting high stakes games," Jarek said, sounding awed. "How many games have you managed to play already?"

"Just a handful," Geralt said.

"A handful and the table is covered in money?" Miloš whistled. "Thanks for not bleeding us dry. I'm not sure we would have survived."

"I didn't—"

Geralt didn't have time to finish as one of the other patrons grabbed a coin from the pile to inspect and scoffed, "He's a Witcher, probably used magic or a curse to fool the croupier. Or maybe he's playing with counterfeit money."

For fuck's sake.

"Put that back and leave," Geralt ordered. He was not going to have some random asshole rile up the people and have him thrown out before he made his way upstairs.

"Going to curse me too if I don't?"

"I haven't cursed anyone, I'm here simply to play Gwent," Geralt said, noticing one of the other croupiers on the floor get up and hurry to the stairs.

"Witchers can't be trusted! You're just as beastly as the monsters you kill. Claim to, at least. Everyone knows you also breed them to make sure you'll always have work," the man sneered.

"We do no such thing," Geralt said, refusing to show his rising anger.

"You calling me a liar?" the man asked, hands clenching into fists.

"Yes."

"You bastard—!"

"What's going on here?" The bouncer —Pawel— asked, voice low and demanding as he made his way through the crowd.

"That mutant is cheating with dark magic," the man accused, pointing a finger at Geralt. "Threatened to curse me too for daring to speak up."

"He's lying about both of those things. I haven't broken any rules or done anything to anyone here," Geralt said, studying Pawel. The bouncer was tall and muscular, sporting a nose that had clearly been broken more than once, and was watching them with ice cold narrowed eyes.

"That so? Your windfall is pure luck?" Pawel asked, nodding at the crowns on the table.

"Skill, more so. I'm seasoned and have good decks," Geralt said, keeping steady eye contact with Pawel. "I came here to play and have no need to cheat to do so. My profession also has absolutely nothing to do with this."

"Geralt really isn't cheating, he's just good at Gwent," Jarek said suddenly. "He played with us before moving on, we can vouch for him."

Miloš and Kornelia didn't seem quite as eager to jump to his defense despite nodding. Not that he blamed them at all for it.

"Do you have any proof he's been cheating?" Pawel asked the man accusing Geralt.

"Well, no, but everyone knows what Witchers are like…" the man said more hesitantly as Pawel stared at him.

"He took one of Geralt's coins from the table. No one is supposed to touch other people's money without explicit permission, right? If anyone has been out of line, it's him," Jarek pointed out.

Pawel immediately grabbed the man's hand and forced his fingers open, revealing the coin. Seeing it, Pawel's eyes lit up in dark satisfaction as if he had been just waiting for proof of someone having broken the rules.

"I'm sorry, wasn't going to keep it," the man gasped, voice pained as Pawel tightened his grip until Geralt could hear bones grind against each other.

"Put it down then," Pawel said, only to immediately slam the man's hand on the table with enough force to break one of the man's fingers.

No wonder Miloš had warned him of his temper.

"I'm sorry," the man sobbed, cradling his hand and backing away the moment Pawel let go.

"Oh shit!" Jarek whispered, face pale. "I didn't mean him to…"

"Get the fuck out of here or you soon won't have any fingers left to play with," Pawel said to the crying man with an ugly smirk. Turning to Geralt as his words were heeded, he said, "You're a lucky son of a bitch that your croupier didn't accuse you of cheating and you had people vouching for you. That would have been you otherwise."

"Can I keep playing then?" Geralt asked, making Pawel laugh.

"That will be up to me," the heavyset woman Miloš had pointed out stated, passing through the crowd to Geralt. "I'm Joanna Lis, the owner of The Rolling Rook. Come upstairs with me and we'll talk."

Not the sort of attention he had meant to gather but it still worked, and that was all that mattered.

"Gladly," Geralt said, starting to quickly place his winnings into his money pouch as well as a new sizable one the croupier he had played against handed him before he had time to mention his unexpected problem of running out of space.

A quick thank you to Jarek for standing up for him and Geralt followed Joanna up the stairs, Pawel walking right behind him. He was led through the lavishly decorated second floor where a few people were lounging and gambling while a bard softly played music in the background, and up another shorter staircase into what appeared to be an office.

"Please, take a seat," Joanna said, gesturing to one of the armchairs and rounding the heavy oak desk in front of them to do so herself.

Glancing at Pawel who stood by the door, Geralt said, "I'll need to take off my weapons."

"Don't unsheathe any and you're good for now," Pawel said, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

Nodding and glad he wasn't also carrying the crossbow, Geralt swiftly placed his swords to lean against the other armchair and sat down.

"Who are you?" Joanna asked, studying him keenly.

"Geralt of Rivia." Geralt introduced himself.

"And what are you doing here, Geralt of Rivia?"

"Playing Gwent, was at least until the interruption," Geralt said. "I heard about this place from a friend and decided to see for myself."

"Your Gwent playing was starting to cause trouble for me, even before that little altercation Pawel took care of. Do you always place such high bets so quickly?" Joanna asked, adjusting a ring on her finger.

"When I have the money but I was also told that the second floor has another den and got curious. People don't tend to be nearly as good at Gwent as they think, so I hoped I'd find some actual challenges up here." Geralt shrugged.

"That so?"

"Yes."

"Bendek Sitora having played here had nothing to do with your choice of establishment?" Joanna asked. A small smile appeared on her skillfully painted lips as Geralt didn't answer immediately. "Don't look at me like that. The first floor is full of my employees, of course you mentioning his name was caught. People trying to fool me is rare and them ending up dead little after is even rarer so it draws my attention. I didn't know however that a Witcher was interested in such a thing."

"He's the reason I heard of this place but I expected him to be alive," Geralt lied. "I'm sure you also heard that he owes my friend money."

"That wouldn't surprise me at all. His finances were extremely poor last time I met him," Joanna said, giving no hint of whether or not she believed him. "I asked Pawel to throw him out after he tried to offer a fraudulent deed as part of a bet. I'm sure he ended up a bit roughed up in the process but I can also vouch that it wasn't enough to kill him."

"Do you know what did?"

"I'm neither a soothsayer or a murderer so no, I do not."

"Hmmm."

"Pawel, how badly did you beat Sitora?" Joanna asked casually.

"Not sure, I don't keep tabs, but he managed to stagger away even if it seemed pretty difficult. Maybe he tripped and broke his neck?" Pawel said, sounding amused.

"If he did, thankfully it wasn't on my property. And if it was some other debtor, that's also not my problem," Joanna said. "What is my problem however, is you Geralt trying to bleed my poor croupier dry."

"I was just playing Gwent, nothing more. If that's a problem, you're welcome to point me towards another gambling establishment," Geralt said, trying to read Joanna's expression.

She clearly had no issues with Pawel's violence but it was also unlikely she'd sanction him to actually murder someone. If nothing else, being dead made paying debts rather difficult. She didn't seem like the type to go for blood instead of gold. And if she did after all… Then her confidence in her ability to keep things under wraps despite his presence could become a useful tool.

"I'd rather keep your money within these walls since no one always wins." Joanna smiled. Opening a small box on her table, she took out a circular wooden chip painted rouge and adorned with an illustration of a rook. "You're more than welcome to keep playing as long as you do it on the second floor and pay the monthly fee."

"How much is it?" Geralt asked, hoping he could afford it without a delay.

"Two hundred crowns. Aside from the playing, it includes the option to use one of the private rooms on the second floor for the night and all the refreshments on the tables are free. Anything else you order will cost as usual," Joanna said, pushing the chip towards Geralt.

"Deal," Geralt said, starting to place coins on the table. Deciding to press his luck a bit, he asked, "You said it's rare for people to fool you and even rarer for them to die afterwards. That's happened before, then?"

"Try to fool me," Joanna corrected. "But to answer your question, Oxenfurt is a large city and avid gamblers don't always have the healthiest of habits so someone dying once in a while is inevitable."

"Hmmm."

"I'm not hosting fights to the death if that's what you're thinking. Too messy and not profitable enough by far compared to the risks," Joanna said pleasantly. "For that kind of thrill you need hardened criminals. I'm a woman and too softhearted to even contemplate branching out to that. I'm satisfied with the clientele I have."

A soft heart or womanhood definitely didn't seem to be the reason keeping her from bloodsports.

"You wouldn't know where to find those thrills?" Geralt asked, placing down the last crown.

"Of course not. I would need criminal contacts for it," Joanna said, eyes wide and innocent.

Geralt didn't believe her for a second.

"Of course," Geralt echoed her.

"I'd prefer you not to ask about Sitora when you rejoin other patrons. Death isn't good for business, surely you understand despite it being the opposite for you," Joanna said, sweeping the crowns into a lockbox she placed into one of the drawers.

"I'm not going to stop people from talking about him. There will be gossip the moment someone shares the fact that he's dead," Geralt said, glad his medallion didn't react to the chip when he took it from the table. Not having to figure out what kind of an enchantment it had was one less thing to worry about.

"Don't be the one to break the news then," Joanna stated.

"Hmmm."

"Do as she says or we will have a problem," Pawel drawled, scowling when Geralt turned to look at him.

"Hmmm."

Being visibly unintimidated seemed to piss Pawel off since his scowl darkened and fists clenched. The bouncer was clearly too used to people immediately backing down whether or not there was a reason to do so.

"Geralt, I'm going to trust you'll have the good sense not to stir up trouble. Go gamble and make merry but mind your conversation topics," Joanna said, drawing Geralt's attention back to herself. "It'll make things easier for everyone."

"I'm not here looking for a fight," Geralt said calmly.

"Then there's no issues with my request, is there?"

"None at all," Geralt agreed, deciding he'd just need to ask careful questions and hope someone knowing Sitora's fate had appeared.

"Good," Joanna said, smiling at him. "I hope you'll have a fortuitous night. Pawel will walk you out."

"It was nice to meet you," Geralt said, standing up and buckling his swords back on.

The office door had barely closed when Pawel said in a low dark voice, "You have fancy swords but don't think that'll stop me from beating your ass the moment you step out of line, so you better do as she told you to."

"I'm not looking for a fight," Geralt repeated himself, walking down the short stairs to the second floor.

"We'll see," Pawel said, continuing his way down to his original placement.

Chapter Text

Geralt poured himself a glass of wine to sip on as he observed the second floor; There were far less tables and they were farther apart from each other, granting more privacy for conversations which could be useful. He'd still need to be careful with his questions since there were a few croupiers both playing and observing the patrons, ready to report to Joanna if he overstepped. The seating area by the refreshments had only a single man lounging in a plush armchair, listening to the unknown bard.

Deciding to take advantage of him not having a playing partner, Geralt asked, "Feel up to a hand or two of Gwent?"

"I'd prefer dice. I'm not in the best of conditions for tactical games," the man chuckled, lifting a goblet of red wine. "Better to let fate decide the outcome."

Pity. Playing against a drunk would have been profitable.

"Dice sounds good too. Let's grab a table," Geralt said, heading to the farthest one from the croupiers.

"Norbert," the man introduced himself, shaking Geralt's hand before taking a seat on the other side of the table.

"Geralt," Geralt said, noticing a small decorative box holding pristine dice on the table next to larger ones holding both playing and Gwent cards.

"I haven't seen you here before. Did you just get in?" Norbert asked, taking the dice out.

"Yes. I heard of this place from Bendek Sitora and wanted to try my luck. It's hard to find actually challenging opponents when playing Gwent," Geralt said, taking care to keep his voice down. "Not that I mind other games either."

"I sure hope you have more money than Sitora had. He got kicked out for fraud, you know." Norbert shook his head, matching Geralt's volume.

It was good he apparently hadn't yet lost his voice control to wine.

"Does a hundred crowns sound like a good bet?" Geralt asked, shaking his new money pouch as an answer.

"Perfect," Norbert said, fishing out his velvet pouch that looked ridiculously expensive with an air of someone who regarded such a sum as loose change. "Feel free to roll first."

"I actually hoped that Sitora would be here tonight. I promised to try getting him to pay his debt to a friend," Geralt lied, rolling the dice. Two fours and a five. Could be worse but he really didn't want to lose such a large sum of money right from the start. Unlike how his opponent seemed like, his pockets weren't bottomless.

"Your friend is going to take a loss," Norbert stated. Lowering his voice more, he said, "Aside from being penniless, Sitora is dead."

"Really?"

"Heard about it today, apparently he was killed," Norbert said conspiratorially, rolling the dice.

A three, a four and a six. A tie.

"Well, look at that! Lady Luck doesn't seem to know which one to favor," Norbert laughed, pushing the dice to Geralt's side of the table.

Luck was already favoring him, Norbert having heard of Sitora's death and willing to gossip.

"Do you know what happened?" Geralt asked, giving the dice a shake and watching in dismay as they landed on one, three, and a two.

"Murder," Norbert whispered gravely, watching Geralt expectantly.

"You’ve got to be kidding," Geralt said, playing along.

"I'm telling you the truest truth!" Norbert exclaimed too loudly for Geralt's tastes, placing a hand on his heart. "My sister told me so and she wouldn't lie. She was in a right state, in fact. She had been briefly involved with Sitora a handful of months ago but she broke it off before it got too serious. He had wandering eyes to put it kindly, you see."

"Hmmm."

Rolling the dice, Norbert continued, "I shouldn't have been surprised that he got kicked out. Cheater in love, cheater in money, like everyone says."

Geralt didn't feel inclined to tell he had never heard the proverb before. Instead he sighed and pushed his coins to join Norbert's as the dice didn't favor him.

"Another round with the same bet?" Geralt suggested, already fishing more crowns out. As Norbert agreed, he asked more quietly, "Did you know him well?"

"We were acquaintances, nothing more. Frankly, I saw him here more than with my sister which probably was how he ended up losing all his money," Norbert said, watching as Geralt rolled high numbers. "He put up a great front of wealth, I didn't think for a moment he was a pauper before he got kicked out. Clothes were always the latest fashion and no signs of wear, bought gifts for my sister, placed high bets, drank the most expensive wines, that sort of things."

"I heard he got kicked out because he tried to bet an invalid deed. How did it come out during the play? Wouldn't it be noticed only afterwards?" Geralt asked, relieved as he won the round.

"You have heard a lot," Norbert said curiously, alcohol glazed eyes sharpening.

"Played with some people who witnessed it downstairs," Geralt said. "It left an impression on them."

"Oh well, that's true. It's rare someone gets actually thrown out instead of being firmly asked to leave." Norbert shrugged and took a drink of his wine before continuing, "He tried to bet a deed to a house that wasn't actually under his name. Too bad for him that his opponent knew the address and the actual owner."

"Do you?"

"No," Norbert said slowly, first signs of suspicion knitting themselves into a frown.

Stifling a sigh, Geralt asked, "Another round?"

Jaskier felt like screaming in frustration. Why the fuck did he have to be so damn good at breaking his relationships? He always shared too much yet too little at the same time, choosing the wrong things to say and keep to himself. Why the fuck hadn't he shared his noble status with Geralt? Why couldn't he just have told him from the start so it would have been done and over and he wouldn't have to see Geralt furious about it now that they were involved?

It would have been better that way. Easier. Everything was so much more intense now and he never had learned how to feel things halfway in the first place.

Jaskier kicked the closest wall, immediately regretting it as a loud thud echoed in the silence of the night and his toes smarted.

Fuck.

It had been ages since last time he had done something like that. At least he hadn't punched the wall. It'd probably have made less noise but Geralt would have noticed if he suddenly had bruised knuckles which would have only led to him being even more angry. And really worried about him suddenly falling back to the very undesirable way of expressing sudden flashes of anger. Not that he himself wanted it to resurface. He was perfectly happy with not hitting inanimate objects before realizing doing so.

It was a shame their room didn't have enough space for him to practice the self-defense moves Lambert had done his best to drill into him over the winter. Going through the sequence might have helped. Instead Jaskier closed his eyes and forced his breathing to deepen. It didn't make him feel much better but at least his blood didn't rush quite as loudly in his ears.

Something was better than nothing. Had to be.

He hated how off-kilter he had been ever since arriving at Oxenfurt. The constant anxiety kept eating at him, fraying his already tenuous nerves even more. It hadn't been this bad in a good while. He had almost gotten used to his issues being more of background radiation quietly affecting his life instead of him constantly falling apart. It felt unbelievable that they had arrived only the day before yesterday.

At the same time, there was some comfort in it. Maybe it really was the change in their daily life like he kept saying. Maybe. Hopefully.

And hopefully there would still be 'them'.

He knew Geralt would be back but that didn't tell him much. No matter what would happen, Geralt wouldn't disappear without a word. Besides, his belongings were here and Roach was stabled. Even if Geralt would want to simply leave, he logistically couldn't do so without dropping by.

Needing something to do with his hands before he'd end up biting his nails, Jaskier sat down at the table and took out the puzzle box. Even if he was a shitty partner, he could try to be useful at least.

Pressing and shifting the sections around was calming, letting him fidget. Even his racing thoughts were finally starting to slow down a bit with the way he had a single tactile thing to focus on. It would have been nice if the too familiar feeling of being an absolute failure of a partner would also have subsided but one couldn't ask for miracles. Not being on the verge of kicking something again or continuing crying would have to be enough. He operated like that a lot of the time anyway, having to settle for things not being as bad as they could be. Maybe one day it wouldn't be like that but who knew if or when it'd happen.

Closing his eyes, Jaskier forced everything but the feel of the box out of his mind. The wood was smooth and polished aside from the carvings he needed to organize back into coherent pictures. The sections he slid around made faint clicking noises that once in a while sounded slightly louder.

Interesting.

He hadn't realized that during his earlier attempts. It was probably the lack of ambient noise letting him hear the barely there difference, the last bard having finished their set and the tavern having closed for the night long ago.

Listening intently, Jaskier slid a section back into the position where it had clicked louder. Opening his eyes, he noticed that the carvings matched with the ones above it. Had to be the locking mechanism clicking in place then. Relying almost more on his hearing than his sight, Jaskier kept fiddling. It was slow with the way he had to switch even the correctly positioned parts around to let the others slide where he wanted them but he was finally making progress. And he really needed something positive right now.

Eventually the box let out a louder click than before as its lid opened.

"Hah!" Jaskier exclaimed quietly, satisfied. Moving one of the lit candles on the table closer, he opened the box.

A key and a circular wooden chip painted red.

Jaskier wasn't exactly sure what he had been hoping to find but the reality was a bit underwhelming.

The key was intriguing but the lack of identifying marks made it rather useless by itself. It being the standard size and material for a house key didn't help much either. Hopefully the corresponding address could be found in the ledger book once the code was cracked. Putting the key back, Jaskier lifted the wooden chip. It was smooth and perfectly circular, lacquer coating the rouge paint. Flipping it over revealed a black illustration of a bird but no other clues of what it was or meant.

Sighing, Jaskier placed the chip too back into the box.

He wished he had something else to keep him busy while waiting for Geralt's return. There was the code but he knew that solving it would be impossible currently. He was far too tired and anxious to focus. At best he'd get nowhere, and at worst he'd totally fuck up the progress he had made so far. Sleep would be a wonderful option to pass the time but actually achieving it would be even more impossible than cracking the code.

Jaskier sighed again, rubbing his itching eyes. Having nothing better to do, he folded his arms onto the table and rested his forehead on them. It was far from comfortable but he couldn't be arsed to move.

Not before he eventually heard the telltale sounds of the door unlocking.

"Hi, Geralt," Jaskier whispered, pushing himself to sit straight.

"You're awake," Geralt said, displeasure coloring his tone.

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Geralt said predictably, starting to remove his gear.

"Did things go well?" Jaskier asked, fighting against starting to fidget with his beads. He really didn't want to show how nervous he was despite Geralt definitely hearing the way his heart pounded.

"I got useful information," Geralt said shortly.

"...That's good," Jaskier said, looking down.

The silence between them was incredibly loud.

"Geralt, I'm so sorry. I should have told you that I'm a viscount years ago," Jaskier said quietly, breaking the oppressive silence. "I know you aren't fond of nobility and I really shouldn't have omitted the fact, leading you astray. You should have had the opportunity to tell me to get lost because of it from the start like I said earlier."

"And I'm not pissed off because of your status like I said earlier," Geralt grunted.

"I…"

"Jaskier, what the fuck am I supposed to do to make you trust that I'm not going to suddenly leave you?" Geralt asked, voice strained and finally turning to look at Jaskier.

Jaskier wished he had a solid answer.

"I do trust that you're not going to leave me without a word. It's just… I just… I fuck things up constantly and make you take care of me. I know I'm a burden regardless of how much we both wish things were different. I know there's only so much you can carry before it gets too much, no matter how you'd like to pretend otherwise. Things aren't nearly as bad as they were but you have your limits and one day I'll finally cross them. Being part of people you despise only adds a new layer to everything. I will not blame you for deciding that it's time to part ways. I want you to place yourself first," Jaskier said shakily, gripping his beads hard and blinking threatening tears away. "Please, Geralt, always place yourself first."

Geralt sighed and sat heavily onto the bed. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he said, "You're an idiot."

"Excuse me?" Jaskier said, taken aback.

"First of all, I don't despise nobility. I don't enjoy all that decorum, and them believing that they're somehow better than the common folk is ridiculous, but it's not as if I have a vendetta. You've seen me interact with them without going for their throats or whatever you're imagining will happen," Geralt stated. "Second, you don't act like that. Yes, you were obviously sheltered and kind of oblivious when we met but you didn't hold yourself above others. Not even the elves despite writing that stupid song."

Jaskier wanted to protest that it was a popular song, not stupid. He stayed silent, just letting Geralt speak as a small spark of hope ignited in his heart at Geralt's words.

He didn't yet dare to believe it.

"Third, I thought that I've made it perfectly clear by now that I don't regard you as a burden," Geralt said, tone sharpening. "I love you. Want to be here for and with you. Why can't you accept it?"

"I always fuck my relationships up. And those were before everything," Jaskier whispered. "I just know I'm fucking this up too. Valdo was right about things never lasting."

And wasn't that a bitter pill to swallow, Valdo being right about something.

"You're not fucking things up."

"I am! I already fucked up years ago and keep only doing so," Jaskier choked out.

"Jaskier, I don't really care that you didn't share your status right away. It isn't particularly relevant to who you are as a person. You actively hiding things time after time is the issue. I fucking hate when you do that. You do know that you can trust me, right?" Geralt said seriously.

It really was incredible how far Geralt had come with his ability to open up. Right now it only made him feel even worse about everything he didn't want Geralt to ever know. Which was absolutely shitty and selfish of him.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said, ducking his head. "I do trust you, Geralt. More than anyone else. It's just— I'm not— It's me I don't trust. I've hurt you so deeply time after time and I know I'll do so again without meaning to and you don't deserve it at all but I won't be able to stop it from happening because I'm me and that's what I always end up doing to those I love."

…Hopefully Geralt was able to follow that. He knew it wasn't a particularly coherent sentence.

"And I'll eventually hurt you. Are you going to break up with me because of that possibility?" Geralt asked.

"No!" Jaskier said more vehemently than he meant to, finally meeting Geralt's eyes. "You'd never do so on purpose."

"Then why would it be any different for me?" Geralt asked steadily. "Why would I fuck off just because it's inevitable that you'll eventually do something I won't like?"

Because Geralt didn't deserve it happening. But that answer wouldn't be accepted.

"Because I make your life more difficult, unlike you do to me. I know you wouldn't simply leave without any warning but my relationships always end. Most of the time because of me. I'm not good at actually maintaining one. It's been years since I've had one lasting nearly as long as we have and— I don't want to fuck this up. Except I keep doing so. Constantly. And each time I'm so, so afraid that it'll be the last straw," Jaskier said quietly, tugging at his beads.

There was a long pause before Geralt said, "I'm worse at relationships. I don't even know how to start them."

Helpless to do anything else, Jaskier started to laugh.

"Oh, Geralt." Jaskier shook his head. "Can I come sit with you?"

"Of course."

"Thanks."

"Jaskier, I don't need you to be perfect, I need you to tell me what's going on. I have no fucking clue anymore how many times I've said that," Geralt sighed, looking beyond tired. "Sure, being noble doesn't seem to have much bearing on your day-to-day life but you didn't just omit it, you tried to actively hide it. Don't do that to me."

"I'm sorry that I keep making my fears your problem," Jaskier said, wishing he knew how to stop doing so. Wishing he still wasn't afraid of so many things and so constantly. "I know that what we have is different, far more solid than any relationship I've had before, even the ones that I sincerely thought would last."

"Hmmm."

"I excel at screwing every good thing in my life up, one way or another, and doing so to us terrifies me. I guess I just keep choosing the wrong ways to keep it from happening."

"You want me to like you, don't you?" Geralt asked, watching him strangely.

"I think that's as obvious as can be," Jaskier said, baffled.

"No, I mean—" Geralt cut himself off, frowning. After a pause he started again, "Even after all this time you actively try to make me like you, don't you? Like with deciding not to share something you were sure would worsen my opinion. You want to please me."

"Are you calling me a people pleaser?" Jaskier asked, brows rising.

"Yes."

Rude. Except…

"You're not completely wrong. I do want people to like me and I'm not above playing a part to achieve it, to a point. Not to mention that the performer persona I show to the crowds is tailored to be likable, it's vital for success. Still, it's not like I try to bend to each whim people happen to have," Jaskier said slowly, clicking his beads. "Standing my ground has become a lot harder than it was but…"

But he wasn't completely incapable of doing so, was he? The times he had stood up to Geralt and other people still counted regardless of how shaky and unsure they left him, right? Just because he couldn't always do so surely didn't negate everything.

"I'm not trying to make myself into someone I'm not for you. You do know that, right?" Jaskier asked.

"I do," Geralt agreed.

"Good."

The silence they lapsed into was far less oppressive than last time. It was nice, just sitting next to Geralt despite their conversation not having reached a concrete solution for the issue. Geralt too was looking much more relaxed again, his shoulders not carrying tension the same way.

"It's beyond late. Let's get to bed," Geralt said eventually, standing up and heading to the door to let Jaskier change in peace.

"How did your investigation go yesterday?" Jaskier asked, hoping he'd get an actual answer now that they had made up, slept, and had breakfast.

"Bendek Sitora got thrown out of The Rolling Rook for fraud only a couple of days ago. I got to talk with a few people who witnessed it and got some more information about him as a person. What the sergeant told me definitely wasn't exaggerated," Geralt said, bending over his leg as he did his morning stretches.

"A broke player then, in more sense than one." Jaskier nodded.

"I also talked with the owner. I think she's either involved in what's happening or at least knows more than she shared," Geralt continued, switching sides. "I'll need to visit the place again."

"You didn't gamble all of our money away yesterday, right?" Jaskier asked, getting a flat look.

"No," Geralt huffed. "I actually won more."

"That's good!" Jaskier said. "And talking about good things, I managed to open the puzzle box."

"You did?" Geralt asked, straightening.

"Yeah. I wish the contents were more useful but at least we know what's inside now," Jaskier said, fetching the box and handing it to Geralt. Seeing the surprise on Geralt's face as he took the wooden chip out, he asked, "What is it?"

"This is a token from The Rolling Rook, I have one too. It grants entrance to the exclusive second floor," Geralt said, studying the chip.

"Oh! We finally have an actual link between victims then. Sitora and Nowakowski at least," Jaskier said, excited. "Do you think the others visited The Rook too?"

"Would explain their money troubles." Geralt nodded. "Sitora got thrown out because of a fraudulent deed on a house."

"And Nowakowski dealt in properties."

"Exactly."

"I wonder if The Rook's owner has the deed. It'd be interesting if you could see it," Jaskier said. "Any chance you could ask her?"

"I didn't tell her about working for the city guard, although she knows I have interest in Sitora's death," Geralt said, placing the chip back and taking the key out.

"Oh well, maybe you'll manage to find someone else who knows what it said," Jaskier said, moving to the table from the bed where he had been watching Geralt's exercise. "I didn't notice any identifying details on that key but maybe the code will mention what it's supposed to open."

"Hmmm."

"You could also ask Nowakowski's fiancée if she recognizes it," Jaskier suggested. "Who knows, maybe she has a talent for differentiating almost identical keys."

"It'd definitely speed things up," Geralt agreed. "I want to talk to her about Nowakowski's apparent habit of visiting The Rolling Rook too. It takes money and usually regular patronage to get to the second floor. I got lucky with getting there so quickly."

"Clearly your obsession with Gwent finally paid off," Jaskier said, flashing Geralt a grin.

"Fuck off," Geralt said without any heat. After putting the key back into the box and the box on the floor next to him, he bent down again continuing his stretching.

"I'm perfectly fine where I am," Jaskier stated, rifling through his notes about the code. Finding the sheet he wanted, he continued, "I've picked out some ciphers that seem promising from the books but I'm not sure if I'll be able to crack this before you return."

"That's fine," Geralt said, finishing stretching and standing up. "I'll try to join you for lunch."

"The investigation is far more important than you trying to do that," Jaskier said immediately. Seeing Geralt's expression, he added, "I'll get something even if you're not here."

"Good."

"Also, I haven't forgotten about my promise to take you out for an actual dinner date. It'll just have to wait for a bit longer," Jaskier said, smiling softly as Geralt looked vaguely embarrassed.

"You don't have to," Geralt said, putting his armor on.

"I want to, just as much as during the winter. Doing it right now just doesn't feel like good timing. Murder investigation isn't a particularly romantic setting."

"Hmmm."

Once Geralt had finished gearing up Jaskier reached for him. "A kiss before you leave?"

"Yes," Geralt said immediately, taking the offered hand and leaning close.

"I love you, dear heart. Stay safe," Jaskier whispered against Geralt's lips before capturing them into a gentle lingering kiss. It still ended far too quickly.

"You too," Geralt said, letting Jaskier keep holding his hand. "Don't work the whole day, okay? You slept far too little last night."

"Stop worrying. One night of little sleep isn't going to affect too much," Jaskier said, squeezing Geralt's hand once before letting go.

"Fine, fine," Geralt huffed. Adjusting his swords, he headed to the door. "I'll see you later then."

"See you, love," Jaskier said, blowing a kiss at Geralt's retreating back as he stepped out, not minding that it wouldn't be noticed.

Once the door closed Jaskier sighed, shoulders drooping as the room felt immediately colder without Geralt's presence. He really hadn't expected to be left alone so much when they had arrived. It was completely unavoidable due to the circumstances but it still kept eating at him. As much time as he had spent at Oxenfurt it still felt unfamiliar, keeping him on edge. He hated the feeling. Was sure it wouldn't be half as bad if only Geralt could be with him. Wanted to feel at home like before everything.

It'd be nice to open the window a bit to let the fresh morning air in but he knew he'd end up focusing on the sounds carrying from outside far too much. Sighing again, Jaskier shook his head and started reading his notes on the possible ciphers.

Hours later he felt like yanking his hair out in frustration. The fucking code kept resisting getting cracked. Each time he thought he got it, he'd run into something that'd prove that he had shit. He might not be actually practiced in ciphering but he was supposed to be good with words and languages. Besides, Geralt was relying on him and letting him down was the last thing he wanted to do.

He needed to solve this.

Resting his forehead on his palms, Jaskier took a deep breath to calm himself. Getting swept up in his emotions would help absolutely nothing. Maybe he just needed a break. Maybe he was just missing something obvious after staring at the code for a good long while. Maybe he wasn't actually failing. Maybe.

Deciding to fulfill his promise to get something to eat despite Geralt not having arrived and not being hungry, he tugged at his sleeves and collar to make sure they were covering as much as possible before heading downstairs.

Weaving carefully around people he wished that he had waited an hour or two to avoid the lunch crowd. His skin prickled whenever someone passed him too close, making him want to retreat upstairs to get away from the strangers. But he had a promise to keep and he refused to be weak enough to not be able to handle something as simple as getting food. Nerves and sleep deprivation could go fuck themselves.

Fidgeting with his beads, Jaskier waited for his turn to order only to tense up even more as someone moved to stand behind him.

"Hello, Jaskier," Suzanna's familiar voice greeted him, letting him relax a bit.

"Hello," Jaskier echoed, turning around just enough to see her. Having most of his back to her was much preferred to anyone being able to grab him from behind.

"Would you like to join me if you're alone?" Suzanna offered, futilely looking around for Geralt.

He had planned to go back as soon as he could. "...Sure."

"Thank you. It's been very …quiet… ever since…" Suzanna sighed, looking down. "Some company is truly appreciated."

"No need to thank me." Jaskier shook his head, stepping forward as the line moved.

They had been sitting at a table waiting for their orders for a while before Suzanna broke the silence that had fallen between them. "It's alright, you can ask."

"What?"

"You can ask what happened with my husband," Suzanna said, meeting Jaskier's eyes steadily. "I'm sure no one has shared the details with you yet and you must be curious."

"Oh…" It was true, he was curious. He also didn't want to rip such a deep wound open. "You don't have to tell me."

"It's alright," Suzanna repeated. "I'd rather have you hear it from me than from some second hand accounting."

"You said it's been two weeks…?" Jaskier asked carefully, studying Suzanna's pale face for any signs of discomfort.

"Slightly more by now but yes. Adrion came home late at night and I was angry with him about it, had stayed up waiting for him. He was drunk too, making things even worse since he had been doing that a lot lately. It's not like we had the money for him to spend it all on alcohol and gambling night after night. I started yelling at him and he matched it. We got into a bad argument," Suzanna said, anger flashing on her face before it was replaced by hurt. "I said horrible things to him. Some were warranted even though I worded them far more terribly than I should have. I made things so much worse."

Not sure of what to say, Jaskier stayed silent. At least their food being brought created a brief distraction.

"There were things thrown around before he stormed out. It was the last time I saw him alive," Suzanna said, voice cracking and closing her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," Jaskier whispered, wishing he could take her trembling hand in his in an attempt to comfort her.

"I didn't think too much about him not returning the next day. I thought he was staying at a friend's place, cooling down. It wasn't the first time we had such a fight and some distance always helped before talking about things. I got worried only once he didn't return by the evening. Come morning I went to find him but no one had seen him so I visited the city guards to ask if there was anything they could do to help. One of them connected the timing and… and led me to the morgue to see if the body they had found was Adrion," Suzanna choked out, tears escaping. "I wish he had been wrong."

"I can only imagine," Jaskier said softly.

"He had been hit on the head, everything of value stolen, even his boots. He had bought them only the previous week," Suzanna continued, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief she had taken out. "If only… If only I hadn't caused him to leave—"

"It's not your fault. You couldn't have known that would happen," Jaskier said seriously. "I didn't know Adrion well at all but I remember you telling that him spending time out was common. There was no way you could have predicted that time would be any different."

"I just… It's hard not to think of all the 'what ifs'," Suzanna said, taking a shuddering breath. "I could have handled things better. I should have done so, shouldn't have lost my cool. He didn't even do anything he hadn't done before."

It being an occurring thing had probably made things only worse, rubbing the hurt deeper. …Just like his inability to trust that he wouldn't cause things to collapse did to Geralt. He really needed to learn how to do better by him.

"His fate isn't your fault," Jaskier repeated. "It's terrible and unexpected but you didn't cause it by getting angry. It's on whoever robbed him."

"Thank you. Hearing you say that I'm not to blame helps a bit," Suzanna said in a small voice, staring at her plate.

"I'm simply telling the truth," Jaskier said firmly.

"Thank you."

"Suzanna, I'm glad you shared. Thank you for trusting me," Jaskier said, meaning each word. They weren't too close yet she took the time to tell what happened herself instead of letting him hear from some other source. Which would have happened sooner rather than later considering the speed rumors circulated in Oxenfurt and the type of the tragedy. The only reason he hadn't heard it yet was probably because of how secluded he had been so far.

Suzanna gave him a thin pained smile before picking up her utensils and starting on her ignored lunch.

Not coming up with a conversation topic, Jaskier followed suit.

Chapter Text

"Morning, Roach," Geralt said, entering the mare's stall and having her greet him back with a headbutt to his chest. Petting her neck, he said, "Sorry I've had so little time for you, I got a contract. Something is actively killing people so I haven't had the chance to take you out for a ride but I know that the stable staff here take good care of you."

Roach's flicking ears still showed her displeasure at the neglect.

"Don't look at me like that. I haven't been able to be with Jaskier the way I want to either," Geralt chided her gently, although a handful of oats he offered seemed to mollify her. Starting to brush her, he continued, "I'll try to take you out for a short ride today but no promises. You might have to put up with boredom and strangers for a bit longer. Hopefully Jaskier will come to see you at some point. He's been alright with going downstairs alone despite the crowd so maybe he'll be able to go outside for long enough to hurry here, wouldn't take him even a minute. I wish I didn't have to leave him alone so much but there's no way around it."

The huff Roach gave sounded agreeing.

"Yeah, him trailing after me would be a bad idea. Anything could happen and I'm not going to put him in possible danger. Besides, he doesn't even want to follow me around for this."

Which made things simpler. He'd be constantly distracted if Jaskier were with him, far too tuned in and familiar with his anxiety even just interrogating people would cause.

"He's still helping, though," Geralt said, moving on to checking Roach's fetlocks and hooves. "Jaskier solved a puzzle box and is working on a code. He doesn't need to do so but he really wants to and honestly, I'd probably get fucking nowhere. Still, he shouldn't be stressing about my job. He's got enough going on as is."

Not that he needed to tell Roach that. She had been there right from the start, the one steady unchanging thing among all the upheaval. The only difference being how close she and Jaskier had become during the past year.

"It's good that Essi and Shani are here. They'll be good for Jaskier. He has other friends around too to make sure he doesn't have to be completely alone but I doubt he's suddenly going to confide in them and tell everything. He did that with Shani. Took me by surprise but he handled it so much better than before and now that she knows, she can help properly."

Roach's soft huff sounded satisfied. She too was clearly happy about it.

"Essi too knows a bit about the feast. We also let her know that we're together. She's getting over it faster than I feared."

Not that he had doubted that she eventually would.

Done tending to Roach, Geralt bid her goodbye and exited the stable. Deciding to start with the key, he headed to Nowakowski's.

His knocking was answered almost immediately, door flinging open and a little girl staring at him with wide startled eyes.

"You're not daddy!" she accused shrilly, tears welling up in her eyes.

"I'm not," Geralt agreed quietly, not sure what else to do.

"Marta! I've told you not to open the front door," Tekla admonished, worry shining through in her voice and hurrying down the hallway to them.

"I want daddy to come home," Marta sniffled, clinging to Tekla as she lifted her into her arms.

"I know, darling, I know," Tekla sighed softly, rubbing her shaking back before focusing on Geralt. "Hello again. Have you found something out?"

"Hmmm." Geralt nodded.

"Please, come in." Tekla said, backing to give Geralt space to do so. "Would you mind terribly if I got Marta settled first? I'll ask one of the maids to bring you refreshments in the meantime."

"That's fine," Geralt agreed, following her into the parlor. Taking a seat in a plush armchair, he watched as Tekla gave brief orders to a maid before swiftly carrying crying Marta away.

If he had felt strangely out of place last time surrounded by the casual show of wealth, sitting alone made the feeling only stronger. There was nothing about him that complimented the rich fabrics, dark wooden furniture polished to perfection, and the decorative knick knacks. Just the closest candelabra to him most likely cost more than his boots. It was ridiculous.

It didn't take long for the maid to return carrying a tray of tea and cake.

"Here you go, sir," she said, serving him.

"Thanks." Geralt nodded. Deciding to use the opportunity to talk with her, he asked, "Have you worked long here?

"Yes, sir. Closer to eight years now," the maid said, avoiding Geralt's eyes.

"You knew Szlama Nowakowski well, then? Also, you don't have to call me 'sir'."

"Yes, sir."

Stifling a sigh, Geralt continued, "Did you notice anything abnormal about his behavior or something happening around him before his death? It could be important."

"No, sir," the maid said, glancing at the door Tekla had exited from and gripping the tray tighter.

"Hmmm."

"I really should go," the maid said hurriedly, glancing at the door again.

"She's not returning yet, I can hear her upstairs with Marta. There's no way she can listen in and I won't let her or the city guard know my source," Geralt pressed, watching her knuckles turn snow white as her grip kept tightening.

"It's nothing." The maid shook her head. "There was nothing out of the ordinary before his death."

"Some kind of a habit then?" Geralt guessed.

The startled look was an answer enough.

"I must get back to my duties," the maid mumbled, almost running away before Geralt could try convincing her to share.

This time he didn't bother stifling his sigh.

He had finished the slice of cake and half of the tea by the time Tekla returned. Smoothing the skirt of her black dress, she sat in an armchair facing Geralt. "I'm terribly sorry to leave you alone like that. I'm glad you got the refreshments at least despite me being such a poor hostess."

"It's fine. I just have some questions," Geralt said, taking the key out and handing it to her. "This was found in a box that was hidden in the home office. Do you know where it's supposed to go?"

"Oh. I wasn't very involved with Szlama's work but I can try…" Tekla said, furrowing her brow as she examined the key. "I think it's a house key, probably for an older building. Newer keys tend to be a bit lighter and this one is quite sturdy. It could of course be for a warehouse or a shop instead of a residence, it's impossible for me to tell more just from looking at it. I'm very sorry I can't be of more help."

"That's alright, I didn't expect you'd know the exact address," Geralt said, shoving off the slight disappointment. It wasn't as if answers tended to drop into his lap. As Tekla returned the key, he asked, "You said that you don't recognize the other victims' names but does The Rolling Rook say anything to you?"

"It's… a gambling establishment…?" Tekla said slowly.

"Yes. Did Szlama play there?"

"Once in a while, I think. He did have a fondness for dice but didn't have much time for it. Is the place involved with what happened to him?" Tekla asked, gripping her dress anxiously.

"The name has been brought up a couple of times but it's too early to say," Geralt brushed the question off. "Although, how often did he gamble?"

"Maybe a couple times a month, not very often like I said," Tekla said, looking dissatisfied with his vagueness.

"Hmmm." At least it confirmed Nowakowski also visiting the establishment. It wouldn't have been too hard for him to simply not let Tekla know the true frequency. Deciding to change the topic, Geralt asked, "Do you have a list of Szlama's properties showing their age?"

"I think there's a reference sheet of a sort. I can try to find it for you," Tekla said, standing up and gesturing to Geralt to follow her upstairs to the office. Looking through the drawers, she said quietly, "I truly do want to help as much as possible, please don't doubt that. Losing Szlama has been difficult and not knowing why or what happened has only made it worse."

"I'm thankful for your help," Geralt said, letting his eyes roam around. Nothing much aside from a window being open seemed to have changed in the room, things being where he remembered.

"I'm glad," Tekla said, offering him a small smile and a leather bound journal. "Here. It has a list of the properties and brief summaries of them."

"Thanks. I'll bring it back when I don't need it anymore," Geralt said, taking it. Deciding not to trust in the honesty of the city guard, he added, "You should pay a visit to sergeant Luiz in a couple of days. He'll have a sizable sum of gold for you to pick up. It was in the same box as the key. Any guesses why Szlama would have hidden it?"

"Oh, that's unexpected." Tekla blinked. "Thank you for letting me know. As for why… Maybe he was saving it for a rainy day? It's prudent to have savings, after all."

"I suppose," Geralt sighed, unconvinced.

Jaskier sighed, craning his neck to stare at the ceiling. Not that he'd find the answers there but at least it wasn't ink on paper. He knew he was close to cracking the code, the answers right at his fingertips, but the words were starting to swim and cause a headache. Maybe taking another break wouldn't be too bad of an idea despite it not being that long since lunch. Stepping away had been helpful the first time. Maybe it wouldn't be him just willfully wasting precious time.

Time they didn't have to spare.

Contemplating taking a break just because he was getting uncomfortable was probably selfish after all.

Sighing again, Jaskier looked back at his notes and picked up his pen. Idly tapping it and mouthing the syllables of the runes, he tried to organize them into recognizable patterns.

The sudden knocking on the door caused him to jerk his pen, leaving a squiggle and broken paper in its wake.

"Jaskier? Are you in?" Essi's voice called out.

"Ye— Yeah," Jaskier stammered, heart racing as he went to open the door.

"Did I scare you?" Essi frowned, eyes taking his appearance in.

"Just startled. Sorry. Do you want to come in?" Jaskier offered, shaking his hands to get rid of the familiar tingling in his fingers.

"Thanks," Essi said, going to look at the haphazard piles of papers and books covering the table. "Are you composing something?"

"I wish but no. Trying to crack a code for Geralt," Jaskier said, following her.

"Ooh, interesting!"

"More like incredibly frustrating," Jaskier grumbled, glaring at the ruined paper.

"It's in Elder runes?" Essi asked, lifting a sheet to read. "Have you tried to match the syllables to Common or Nilfgaardian instead?"

"First thing I tried." Jaskier nodded.

"Thought so."

"Did you want something?" Jaskier prompted when Essi kept reading silently.

"I wanted to see if you're alright. You and Geralt left so abruptly last night. Not that I blame you, Valdo was out of line," Essi said, focusing all of her attention on him. It was almost uncomfortable in its intensity with the way she seemed to be trying to find the answers through sheer will.

A small fond smile still found its way to his lips. Gods, how he had missed her. More than he had even realized during the months of upheaval.

"I'm okay now. We talked things out with Geralt," Jaskier said, dragging a chair away from the desk to sit in. "He even finally knows that I'm a viscount."

"I really don't understand how you managed to keep that from him for so long," Essi said, incredulous note in her tone.

"Skill?" Jaskier offered.

"More like a chronic need for avoidance."

"Poppet, you wound me."

"Stop calling me Poppet," Essi huffed, just like she tended to do at the nickname. It was familiar. A fond little game, a gentle push and pull.

"I— Sorry. Sorry, Essi."

"Jaskier?"

"Sorry. You're right, I shouldn't call you that. You keep telling me so. Sorry," Jaskier mumbled, the cold tingling returning to his fingers as he clutched his beads and lowered his eyes. He should have remembered that Essi despised being called Poppet. No one else but him even used it. He should have stopped doing so after being told the first time. Not having gotten into the habit. Not have kept making her uncomfortable time after time after time. Not—

"Hey, Jaskier. Jaskier, look at me." Essi's voice cut in.

He didn't want to see her anger. He still did as asked.

"There you are," Essi said softly, meeting his eyes. "Can you take a deep breath for me?"

It ended up stuttering in his chest, passing his lips as unsteady gasps.

"That's it, keep breathing. You're doing great," Essi said, slowly kneeling in front of him. "Jaskier, you know that I don't actually mind you calling me Poppet, right? I would have made it clear right from the start if I truly wanted you to drop it."

"Ah." That did ring true, Essi had never had trouble speaking her mind and then some.

"It'd be strange if you stopped now. I'd miss it."

"Oh."

"You're the only one who gets to call me Poppet. It's a right reserved for my brother and no one else," Essi said, soft tone contrasting with the intense seriousness of her blue eyes. "Do you understand me?"

"I… Yeah. Thank you," Jaskier whispered, heart unclenching. Gesturing at himself, he said, "I'm sorry for… all this. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with my overreaction."

"Stop that. You did nothing wrong," Essi said, still kneeling, still holding steady eye contact.

There were no lies on her face.

"You'll let me know if you want me to stop calling you Poppet, right? Won't let me keep going if you change your mind?" Jaskier checked, easing his fingers open one by one so he could fidget instead of gripping his beads.

"I promise to." Essi nodded, brushing her wayward lock of hair out of her eyes. There was a long thoughtful pause before she continued, "Jaskier, is there something you don't want me to call you anymore?"

She truly knew him far too well. A blessing and a curse depending on the situation.

"I don't really like being referred to as Songbird but it's not like you've been calling me that regularly anyway." Jaskier shrugged.

"I'll stop completely," Essi said immediately with such determination it brought the small fond smile back on Jaskier's lips.

"Essi, can I—" Jaskier stopped, swallowing.

"Yeah?"

"...It's silly," Jaskier mumbled.

"If you can't be silly with me, then with whom?" Essi said, matching his smile with a brighter one.

"Convincing argument, I guess," Jaskier said, taking a deep breath before asking, "Can I hold your hand for a second? Try at least?"

"Of course!" Essi said, smile growing almost blinding as she offered her right hand.

Her visible excitement helped, made it easier to trust that she wasn't just begrudgingly appeasing him.

"Please don't move," Jaskier said quietly, hovering his hand above Essi's. He wouldn't be able to deal with her clasping his hand, holding him. She wouldn't purposefully restrict his movements but it'd still go badly. He wasn't sure of when or if he'd be able to gather enough courage for a second try if things went sideways.

"I won't."

He trusted her promise.

Trusted her.

"I'll touch you now…?" Jaskier said, trying to focus on the happiness dancing in Essi's eyes instead of the cold dread clawing at his chest.

Essi was safe. His little sister. She wouldn't do anything he didn't want. She was safe.

Essi's hand was unmoving as he brushed his fingertips against it, the only change being her smile somehow managing to brighten even more at the briefest touch. She truly was like the sun, warm and blinding in her happiness.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Jaskier laid his hand on top of Essi's and pressed gently into the touch.

"I love you. Thank you," Jaskier whispered, yanking his hand away and quickly backing a few steps to leave his chair between them.

"I love you too," Essi said, soft and sincere. She didn't even seem bothered by his sudden need for distance. "Is it alright if I stand up?"

"Yes." Jaskier nodded, unable to stop staring at each movement she made and feeling like he was close to bolting. Thankfully Essi kept moving slowly, clearly noticing his skittishness. He really didn't deserve her.

"Is Geralt out investigating?" Essi asked, changing the topic and taking a seat in the other chair.

"Yeah, he left in the morning," Jaskier said, glad his voice didn't hitch. "No idea when he's coming back."

"Thought so," Essi said. "I know you have the code to crack but would you like to go for a walk with me? It'd get you out of your head for a bit which I think would do good for you."

"I can't," Jaskier mumbled, averting his eyes. "The crowds would be too much."

"That's alright. I could still keep company if you want?" Essi offered, tone just as pleasant as before.

It still felt like he had disappointed her.

"I'd like that," Jaskier said. After a moment of hesitation he ventured, "We could go see Roach? She's at the stable."

That should be doable. And the way Essi's expression brightened again would be worth the momentary discomfort of being outside without Geralt.

"Sure! Let's go."

"After you," Jaskier said, opening the door.

Maybe he should be grateful that his anxiety surged only once they were almost by the front door of the tavern. But he could do this. It'd be a very brief walk outside and Essi was with him. Nothing would happen. He knew it. He wasn't sure if he believed it.

"We can go back if you want," Essi said, noticing his slowing steps.

"No, no. I want to do this." Jaskier shook his head. "I've been outside without Geralt before, just not in populated places…"

"I'm not going to let anyone touch you, even by accident," Essi promised, tossing her hair out of her eyes.

"I know you'll do your best." That he even believed.

It was sweet how Essi made sure no one was even close when they stepped outside. It didn't stop his heart from pounding with anxiety but at least he wouldn't have to skirt around strangers. Jaskier immediately beelined to the stable, barely keeping from jogging and Essi matching his speed without a comment.

The familiar scent of hay and horses was calming.

"Hi, girl. Sorry I didn't come to see you earlier. It's been rather hectic. Not a good excuse but it's the truth," Jaskier greeted Roach, grabbing her brushes.

"Hello, Roach," Essi echoed, following him into her stall. Seeing Jaskier start brushing her after Roach gently headbutted his chest in a greeting of her own, she asked, "Has Geralt really given you permission to tend to her?"

"Yeah, I've been taking care of Roach since— since the feast. I've been riding her a lot too while traveling," Jaskier said, patting Roach's neck. "She's been an absolute darling."

"Seriously?" Essi asked, clearly surprised. "I remember Geralt disliking anyone else but him even interacting with Roach."

"I was doing really badly right after," Jaskier said quietly, focusing on the mare so he didn't have to look at Essi. "Geralt realized that Roach felt easy and safe to be around so he pushed some of the responsibilities of her upkeep on me so I'd actually do something. She's been getting double the attention ever since. There's no way Geralt would actually stop doting on her just because someone else does so too."

"Oh."

The note of sadness in Essi's voice shot right through him. He had known she'd pick up on the allusion of how he had been pretty much incapacitated but he refused to lie. Pick and choose what to tell, yes, but he wasn't going to insult her like that.

"I'm doing much better by now," Jaskier added quickly. "Still, working with Roach is really nice and I got into the habit. She's honestly such a sweetheart too."

"You do seem more relaxed than inside," Essi said, tilting her head. "Do you think either Roach or Geralt will bite my fingers off if I pet her?"

"No," Jaskier chuckled, watching as Essi slowly offered her hand for the mare to smell.

"Jaskier says you're actually a sweetheart so please don't nip me," Essi said as Roach snorted and eyed her suspiciously.

"Come now, Roach, play nice. We like Essi, Geralt included. You've also seen her before so no need for that," Jaskier said, pausing his brushing.

A softer huff and Roach lowered her head to bump Essi's palm with her muzzle.

"Good girl, Roachie!" Jaskier said, restarting the brushing as Roach let Essi pet her cheek.

"Yes, you are!" Essi agreed, smiling. "I think this is the first time I've gotten to touch you, Roach. Thank you for playing along. And thank you so much for having been there for Jaskier. I hope you'll keep doing so."

"Essi…"

"It's true. I'm glad she was there to help. I only wish I could have helped too," Essi said seriously.

"You did just by existing. I thought of you sometimes," Jaskier said. "Besides, you're helping me now more than you even know."

"That's something at least," Essi sighed.

"It's all I could want and more than I'd ask," Jaskier said sincerely, meeting Essi's eyes.

The words didn't seem to have the intended effect as Essi's expression twisted. "I'm not a child anymore."

"No, you're not," Jaskier agreed, bewildered.

"You don't have to shield me from whatever happened. I'm not naive to what can happen out in the world. I promised not to ask and I won't, but I need you to understand that you can talk to me, that you can ask for my help and support," Essi said heatedly, taking a step back as Roach snorted again and shifted around. "Don't stay silent as an attempt to protect me."

"I'm not—"

"Don't you dare to say that you're not doing so," Essi cut him off sharply.

She was right.

He didn't want Essi to bear the burden of knowing everything, didn't want her to have to hear about the worst of men and wounds he still wasn't sure would fully heal. It was so easy to look at her and see the barely fourteen years old girl she had been when he had graduated and started traveling. Somewhere along the years and between their meetings she had grown up yet she'd always remain his little sister, someone he had silently sworn to protect as much as he could. As fierce as Essi was, she was also sensitive and he didn't want to be the reason for her tears. Not even when they'd be for him, not because of him.

"It's not that simple," Jaskier said faintly, petting Roach to calm both her and himself down.

"It could be," Essi stated, blowing hair out of her eyes.

"...I don't want you to hurt."

"You won't hurt me."

Jaskier shook his head. "I know you, Essi. It would hurt you just as surely as if you grabbed a jagged shard of glass with your bare hands. Except you wouldn't be able to simply drop it."

"I could help you carry it instead," Essi said, tone softening. "You've never been good at letting others see when you're hurting but please don't pretend around me. You don't have to endure alone."

"I'm not alone and I'm not pretending," Jaskier said, carding his fingers through Roach's mane. The soft yet coarse texture of it grounding him to present despite the unease boiling right under his skin. "What happened is… It's hard to deal with and even harder to think about. I'm not ready to share the details with you. Please."

"I told you that I won't ask and I mean it. I don't want you to share because you feel like you have no other choice," Essi said, tugging her wayward curl behind her ear. "But please, base the decision on what's best for you, not what you think I can handle."

That did seem like a fair request.

"I'll try," Jaskier agreed.

"Thank you." Essi smiled.

"What?" Paula snapped, opening the door after Geralt had been persistently knocking for a good while.

"Did Arkadiusz ever visit The Rolling Rook?" Geralt asked quickly, hoping Paula wouldn't immediately slam the door shut like last time.

All he got was a glare.

"I need to know," Geralt stressed.

"Fine. I'll talk with you briefly if you'll stop hounding me afterwards," Paula said, radiating annoyance. "Come in."

"Thanks," Geralt said, entering and taking care not to mirror her tone.

He had barely closed the door and taken two steps when Paula stopped and turned to look at him, arms crossed. "Speak, Witcher. I don't have the whole day."

"Did Arkadiusz gamble and did he ever visit The Rolling Rook?" Geralt asked again.

"Yes. Was that all?"

All of the victims had visited the place then.

"No. One of your neighbors mentioned that he hosted a lot of parties and short visits, could you tell more about them?" Geralt requested, watching Paula's displeased expression darken even more.

"Those aren't your concern," Paula said tensely.

"I'm trying to solve the murders and the more I know, the easier it'll be to find the commonalities between the victims. There's a chance that someone who has visited is involved," Geralt explained evenly.

Why people had to be so unhelpful when all he tried was to solve their problems was still a mystery to him even after all the years. Things would go so much faster if they'd just comply. Even those who despised Witchers would win, getting rid of him quicker. It was simply a question of practicality.

"Arkadiusz liked hosting and had plenty of friends. I'm not sure what you want to hear." Paula shrugged.

"Did something seem out of place lately? Did he quarrel with someone or owe money? What were the visits that took only minutes about? Things like that," Geralt listed, watching Paula's lips twitch at the mention of owed money.

"No, nothing seemed strange. No, he didn't fight with someone. Short visits were usually someone leaving him a message or something," Paula said, looking away.

"And being in debt?"

"He might have borrowed a bit from a friend before the last big party he hosted," Paula said reluctantly. "He wanted to entertain and impress business associates he was looking to partner up with."

"Could I get the name of this friend?" Geralt asked, pleasantly surprised Paula actually answered the question instead of kicking him out.

"Joanna Lis."

"The owner of The Rolling Rook?"

"Yes. I told you that he visited the place," Paula said. "Are we done here? I have better things to do than share gossip with you."

They clearly had different definitions of gossip.

"Are you sure that—"

"Yes! Stop trying to drag my husband's name through the mud," Paula snapped, annoyance morphing into barely restrained anger. "I'm done with people prying and trying to find fault in Arkadiusz's actions. He might not have been the perfect man but he was my husband! Go listen to the neighborhood rumor mill if you're so keen to tarnish his memory, I'm sure someone will be perfectly happy to join you in it. Now, get out of my house and don't come back!"

"Thank you for your time," Geralt said, surprised with the outburst and glad to be right by the door as she seemed ready to throw the nearest object at him if her balled fists and deathly glare were anything to go by.

Her following him just to be able to slam the door again was a completely unnecessary addition.

Staring at the sky Geralt let out a small frustrated groan. Although, maybe he should be glad that no one else had so far had such a bad reaction to him digging into their affairs.

"Don't take it too personally, young man. I told you Paula is fed up with people asking about her late husband," Berta said, holding a laundry basket and standing at the threshold of a neighboring house. "I'm surprised she even let you in."

"Need help with the sheets?" Geralt asked, deciding she might know about the rumors.

"You're such a dear. I'd be happy to have help." Berta smiled, crow's feets wrinkling her eyes.

"Hmmm."

"I hope Paula wasn't too harsh with you. She's a good woman underneath her pain, she's just lashing out," Berta said, leading Geralt to the clothes line and offering a sheet to him.

Taking it and waiting for Berta to have a solid grip on her end of the sheet, Geralt said, "It's fine, nothing out of the ordinary. Although, can I ask you a few questions?"

"Of course!" Berta said, starting to pull.

"Paula mentioned that there's rumors circulating about Arkadiusz. Do you know what they're about?"

"Oh, those are some mean spirited things. I didn't want to repeat them last time we talked. Kamińskis are decent folk." Berta shook her head.

"There could be something important in them," Geralt said, hanging the sheet to dry.

"I doubt that," Berta sighed. "You know about the frequent parties and visits. People have drawn less than savory conclusions about them. Some think they're full of indecency of all sorts, and that Paula isn't even aware of everything that goes on under her own roof."

"They think Arkadiusz was cheating on her?"

"Very much so. Some just want to see the worst in others. I told you that I've attended some of the parties and they were perfectly fine gatherings with no signs of paid women or substances better not touched. Everything was nice and proper, even after some wine," Berta said, starting to pull a second sheet with Geralt. "I'd wager that the most vocal of the gossipers haven't even stepped into the Kamińskis' home."

"Hmmm."

"Don't go believing all the rumors, young man. They'll just cloud your mind," Berta said sternly.

"I work with facts," Geralt said, Berta nodding approvingly.

Sometimes the facts just were hidden in the gossip but that didn't seem something she'd like to hear.

"That's a good lad. People are far too keen on thinking the worst of others and then circulating those thoughts."

"Human nature, I guess." Geralt shrugged.

"I suppose you'd know all about it," Berta said, studying him. "People do tell tall tales about Witchers."

"That's just part of life," Geralt replied evenly.

"I've been terribly rude, not asking your name," Berta said softly. "I'm sorry for my lack of manners."

"You don't have to apologize," Geralt said. "I'm Geralt of Rivia."

"Geralt of Rivia. I'll be sure to remember that." Berta nodded, smiling at him. "You're a good young man, don't let the nasty rumors convince you otherwise."

"Thank you," Geralt said, surprised.

Maybe he could find the time to help Berta finish the laundry before continuing on.

Chapter Text

"Witcher!"

Geralt turned around at the shout, noticing Tomek striding toward him down the street. Waiting for the young guard to reach him, he asked, "Yes?"

"Sergeant wants to see you. He told us to tell that if we happened to see you," Tomek said, looking displeased about being the one having to deliver the message.

"Do you know what he wants?"

"Nowakowski's ex-wife has returned. She was at the barracks last I saw, no idea if she's gone already. You might have to track her down," Tomek said, some cheer entering his voice at the thought.

"Good to know. I'll head there." Geralt nodded.

"Great," Tomek said, not sparing Geralt another glance and continuing his patrol.

Changing his destination Geralt headed to the barracks, hoping Tomek had found him quick enough to not have to track Tosia down. He wanted to take a look at at least some of the buildings Tekla had written down for him before afternoon would become evening.

The unfamiliar feminine voice he could hear from behind the sergeant's office door seemed like a good sign. Knocking and announcing his presence, Geralt entered the room.

"Ah, Geralt. I see someone found you quickly," Luiz said, clearly pleased.

"Hmmm."

"Geralt, this is Tosia Budny, Nowakowski's ex-wife. Tosia, this is the Witcher I mentioned, Geralt of Rivia," Luiz introduced them. "Tosia returned from Novigrad this morning."

"Hello," Tosia greeted with a small wave from a chair placed in front of Luiz's desk.

"Hello," Geralt echoed, studying her.

She was wearing sensible yet expensive traveling clothes and spotless high boots, long blond hair braided and blue eyes sharp as she too took his appearance in.

"You're going to ask the same questions as the sergeant so I'll cut to the chase," Tosia stated. "I was visiting Novigrad to see friends and several plays since I love theater. No, I didn't keep in contact with Szlama during that time. Yes, we had a tumultuous marriage and worse divorce. Yes, in general I kept seeing him since we have a child and not to do so would be impossible. No, I didn't know he was dead before today. Yes, I came here as soon as I could after seeing the notice on my dining table from the guards. Yes, I'm pissed off that they broke in. No, I'm not going to make an official complaint about it."

That did cover a good amount of the questions he would have asked and even some he wouldn't have.

"Do you know who would want him dead?" Geralt asked, noting her shifting her weight nearly impercipiencely.

"No."

"Make your best guess," Geralt prompted.

"Well… Tekla never liked us keeping in contact even for Marta's sake. Maybe she came to conclusions about Szlama's fidelity and decided to put a permanent end to us seeing each other. It's not like she doesn't have the money to make such a thing happen," Tosia said, resentment coloring her voice.

"And did you?"

"Do what?"

"Have an affair."

"How dare you!" Tosia yelled indignantly, standing up fast enough to make her chair slide backwards.

"Please keep your voice down," Luiz said sternly.

"Are you really letting this— this mutant slander me?" Tosia seethed, gesturing at Geralt.

"Let's stay civil. We aren't questioning you to attack you, just to get as good a picture of the circumstances surrounding the deaths as we can," Luiz said.

"Accusing me isn't civil!" Tosia argued.

"You didn't answer the question," Geralt pointed out, earning a venomous glare.

"You're out of line, trying to defame me!"

"Answer the question," Luiz cut in, drawing Tosia's ire to himself.

"You're supposed to protect Oxenfurt's citizens, not allow some outsider to attack our honor," Tosia said coldly.

"My duty is to find the killer on the loose to protect the citizens and I will not have you hinder us. Now, I ask politely once more that you answer the question. Otherwise I'll be forced to consider you as someone trying to purposely obfuscate the investigation," Luiz stated matter of fact, meeting her furious eyes evenly.

"Fine. This isn't worth getting thrown into a jail or something," Tosia spat, crossing her arms defensively. "As turbulent as my relationship with Szlama was, we never lost the spark. Maybe exactly because of the issues since we weren't able to find closure or completely separate our lives because of Marta. Sometimes our arguments led to sex. We never planned it so there was no pattern if that's what you're looking for."

"Thank you," Luiz said.

"Is that enough or do you want all the details? Positions maybe?" Tosia scoffed. "Or maybe you'd like to hear tips on how to get a woman off?"

"That's quite enough," Luiz said, embarrassment flashing across his face.

"Hmmm," Geralt agreed.

Hearing that they were having an affair was all that was needed. That was one more thing common with the victims despite Kamińskis' being an unproven rumor.

"Are you sure? You were so intent to learn about our private lives. You'd probably like to hear details on the way Szlama liked to go dow—" Tosia cut herself off as Luiz cleared his throat loudly.

"I think we're done here," Luiz said, cheeks red and avoiding looking at her.

"What about you, Witcher? Looking for more information?" Tosia asked sweetly, eyes furious.

"No," Geralt said.

"Good."

"You may leave now. We'll be in contact if needed," Luiz said, staring intently at the pile of papers on his desk he was straightening up into a neater one.

Without another word Tosia marched out, slamming the door after herself.

"That went well," Geralt said as the sergeant kept busying himself with unnecessary organizing.

"Not the word I'd use," Luiz said.

"We have ascertained a new commonality between all the victims."

"That's true." Luiz nodded. "It's looking like the physical appearance isn't important to the killer aside from the age range."

"The murders have to be premeditated for their actions to be the deciding factor. If they were a crime of opportunity, it'd be something more superficial. The killer must be stalking their victims before attacking," Geralt mused.

"Agreed. There's no other way for the killer to know so many details about their lives. I wonder whether they've been stalked simultaneously or if the time spent on gathering information is shortening," Luiz said, finally stopping moving the papers around. "If it's the latter, they might eventually slip and kill someone not fitting their criteria."

Which would only make things more dangerous. Someone killing without any discrimination at all could wreak terrible havoc.

"Fucking finally!" Jaskier cheered, triumphantly lifting a sheet of paper up.

He had lost count of how many ciphers he had tried before one of the more obscure ones had finally matched the ledger's contents. Hitting the library truly had been a good idea. There was no way he would have cracked it without a reference. But if they ever came across another code, he'd have far too many memorized to not be more efficient than this time. It was nice knowing he could still be useful despite everything.

Hopefully Geralt would arrive soon so he could share the contents with him.

Humming a cheerful tune, he stood up to stretch his stiff back and shoulders. It was disappointing he couldn't reach his toes. All the hunching over the papers and tension from stress clearly weren't being too kind. Maybe he should join in on Geralt's daily stretching next time. That might help.

Not having anything better to do Jaskier took his lute out and sat on the floor to tune it. Even the thought of having to perform later didn't feel as daunting as before. Managing to do something right for once really was doing wonders for his mood. Now he'd just need to keep from fucking up before getting on the stage.

Which should be doable. Hopefully. He hadn't had a good track record lately.

Making sure not to be too loud, he continued plucking his lute while figuring out what songs he'd perform. Being able to focus solely —mostly, at least— on the music for the first time since arriving was wonderful.

By the time the familiar knocking and Geralt's voice drew his attention the shadows had lengthened.

"Geralt!" Jaskier greeted with a smile, placing his lute on the floor and hopping up.

"You seem happy," Geralt said, looking surprised.

"I cracked the code," Jaskier said, offering his hand. Getting a nod, he tugged Geralt to the table with him.

"Really?"

"Really! It was quite an old one that hasn't been used much within this century but that definitely made it more secure," Jaskier said, lifting the first translated page so they could both see it. "It seems to hold records of accounts and transactions but also personal notes about the business. Nowakowski seemed to be trying to turn his gambling habit into an actual enterprise."

"He was trying to establish a gambling den?" Geralt asked, gently taking the paper from Jaskier for easier reading.

"Sure seems like it. And guess who's name I found?" Jaskier said, lifting another paper from the table and pointing at one of the paragraphs. "The Rolling Rook doesn't seem to be the only place Sitora was losing money at. I wonder if he found one of Nowakowski's deeds there."

"Would be quite the coincidence if he got hold of someone else's," Geralt said. "This is really good. Thank you, Jaskier."

"It was no bother." Jaskier shook his head.

"I know for a fact it was," Geralt said, lips quirking upward. Softer, he asked, "Would you like a kiss?"

"Yes please."

It was sweet and far too quick.

Taking the paper from Geralt so he could place them back on the table, he requested, "Another? And can we hug?"

"Yes and yes," Geralt said, opening his arms.

Jaskier pressed close, hugging Geralt around the neck. An immediate improvement despite the armor now digging into his chest.

"I miss you," Jaskier whispered, enjoying the warmth of Geralt's hands against his upper back.

"Hmmm."

"How verbose."

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed again, fully smiling.

"Hmmm yourself," Jaskier said, leaning close enough to share a breath. "That kiss?"

Instead of answering, Geralt captured his lips in a light and unhurried kiss. It was love and adoration, wanting to be touched. Wanting to simply be close. They had had far too few chances for it lately.

Jaskier gave a playful little nibble on Geralt's bottom lip, inviting him to let the kiss deepen. Which was immediately obliged. Pressing as close as he possibly could, Jaskier kissed him thoroughly, enjoying the small satisfied sound escaping Geralt. It was only as he ran out of air that Jaskier pulled back, heart racing and filled with love.

"I'm glad you're here," Jaskier said, giving a final peck on the corner of Geralt's lips before stepping back.

"Glad to be here," Geralt replied simply, starting to take his armor off. "Did you do anything else than work on the code?"

"I spent more time with Essi and went to see Roach with her," Jaskier said. "Roach finally let her touch her too!"

"That's nice." The warmth in Geralt's voice was unmistakable.

"It really was nice. Essi was very excited about getting to pet her and I was starting to feel a bit bad about not having visited Roach. She's been so patient with us mostly ignoring her. I think I'll try to go see her tomorrow too if possible," Jaskier mused, slinging his lute over his shoulder and heading to the door to wait for Geralt to finish. "It'd be great, getting out of the inn for a while. I haven't been cooped up only in our room but still."

"Roach would appreciate you tending to her again," Geralt said approvingly.

Clearly the mare wouldn't be the only one appreciating it.

"I'm sure she would." Jaskier nodded.

"I told her that I might take her out for a short ride tonight but it'll have to wait," Geralt said, joining him. "I want to go see if Nowakowski's place is operating despite him being dead, and I need to go back to The Rolling Rook too."

"The staff takes great care of her, she'll be fine. I wish I could take her for a ride in your stead but… Well. Visiting the stable is as far as I'll be able to go," Jaskier sighed, opening the door and letting Geralt exit first.

"It's enough."

"Maybe."

"It is," Geralt repeated, sounding so sure of himself.

It'd be nice to share that confidence.

They had barely entered the tavern downstairs when Jaskier's attention was drawn to a cheerful greeting, "Jaskier, Geralt! Want to join us?"

After exchanging a glance with Geralt, he approached the table where Tymon was waving at them with Antoni sitting opposite of him and smiling while looking over his shoulder. Taking a seat while Geralt continued to the bar, Jaskier greeted them back, "Hi. Are you having dinner?"

Which was a stupid question considering Tymon and Antoni had almost full plates in front of them.

"Yeah, arrived a bit early but we don't want to miss a second of Callonetta's performance. She should start any minute now," Tymon explained.

"Priscilla is here?" Jaskier asked, starting to look around wide eyed.

It took him a moment to spot her bright red hat adorned with the large feather, people obscuring her from a clear view from where she was sitting close to the stage. Still, what he could glimpse of her face and form was heartachingly familiar. Like nothing had changed since last time they had met. For her it most likely was true too. And if it wasn't, it was hopefully because of good things. She deserved only the best in the world.

"I saw her this morning and got to briefly catch up with her," Antoni said, scooting his chair to the left to make more space for Geralt to sit next to Jaskier when he joined them carrying drinks for both Jaskier and himself. "Tymon helped me today with some filing at the academy so I owed him dinner and what better place to have it than here, with her singing?"

"It's been ages since last time I saw Priscilla," Jaskier said, absentmindedly accepting the offered mug without taking his eyes off Priscilla. She had stood up, the bard on the stage closing his performance.

"I bet she'll happily join us once done," Tymon said.

"That would be nice," Jaskier agreed.

It truly would despite having to once again face the initial worried surprise his appearance would elicit. He'd just grit his teeth, smile through it, and focus on the warmth of Priscilla's presence. And probably end up explaining some of what had happened in private. Again. He'd happily skip that part but at the same time he'd rather she heard from him than the rumor mill. She'd definitely ask about it if he didn't offer any explanation. Essi and Tymon wouldn't give anything away but there had to be various guesses floating around.

It might actually be mildly amusing to hear what people had come up with. Maybe he should ask Tymon. After all, he lived permanently in Oxenfurt instead of traveling for most of the year.

"Quiet, she's starting," Antoni shushed as Priscilla took the stage.

Sitting down on a stool she shifted into a better pose and started strumming high chords on her lute, her clear soprano soon joining in.

It was a familiar song, making Jaskier smile lightly. He could still remember her softly murmuring to herself as she had been coming up with the lyrics, both of them working on their own songs side by side until late in the night.

The song had changed when Geralt whispered to Jaskier, "Start eating."

"What?"

"Your dinner. It's for eating."

"Oh."

He hadn't realized at all that it had been served. The fact that he hadn't noticed someone getting so close to him was disconcerting but Geralt wouldn't have let anything happen and something going wrong at The Song and Rose surrounded by friends was rather unlikely in any case. He might be accidentally brushed against but that wasn't dangerous despite his instincts screaming otherwise.

Not paying constant attention to his surroundings didn't matter, was a good thing even. He didn't enjoy the hypervigilance plaguing him. He still couldn't help the way his heart skipped a beat.

"Right," Jaskier said, taking a deep breath and looking down at his bowl. He really was getting tired of soups. Maybe he should try having something solid for tomorrow's lunch if his stomach didn't rebel against it at breakfast. Eating something was better than not doing so at all but still.

It was only as Priscilla's performance was coming to an end that Jaskier remembered he was next. Disappointment washed over him at the thought of getting to only briefly greet her until later. Hopefully there would be a later instead of Priscilla continuing on immediately.

"My turn is starting soon," Jaskier said, unable to hide the tinge of unhappiness.

"You'll do fine," Geralt encouraged, eyes briefly dropping to the slightly unfinished soup before locking with Jaskier's.

"I'm not really worrying about that." And wasn't that a change? "I'll just miss catching up with Priscilla. There's not much time to exchange words before getting on the stage."

"Hmmm."

"I'm sure she'll wait for you if there's nothing urgent," Tymon said.

"I hope so," Jaskier said, standing up and slinging his lute over his shoulder. Quieter he asked Geralt, "May I kiss your hand?"

"Yes," Geralt said immediately, offering his right hand.

"Wish me luck," Jaskier murmured, lightly kissing the scarred knuckles.

"You don't need luck," Geralt stated.

That sweet, sweet man.

It took almost no time to get to the stage. Noticing Priscilla was about to take the stool with her, Jaskier called out, "You can leave the stool. I'll use it."

"Jaskier?" Priscilla exclaimed with a dazzling smile as she turned. Jaskier hated the way it dimmed the second she took in his appearance.

"Are you alright?" Priscilla asked, stepping off the stage.

"Please don't hug me." Jaskier shook his head as she opened her arms. "And yeah, I'm well enough. Let's not talk about it here."

He knew his lackluster greeting —if it could even be called one— only worried her more. Wanting to mitigate it at least a bit Jaskier smiled warmly, letting his happiness of seeing her shine through, "It's been far too long. I've missed you, Priscilla."

"And I you, darling," Priscilla said.

Jaskier couldn't help being thrown by the casual endearment. It felt …strange… despite Priscilla often doing so, and not just because of his relationship with Geralt. Deciding to figure out where his boundaries were later, Jaskier asked, "Do you have time to catch up after my performance? We could go to Geralt and my room."

"Geralt is here too?" Priscilla said, automatically looking around.

"Yeah, he's sitting with Tymon and Antoni if you want to join him."

"I do. And I'd love to see you after your performance. It truly has been far too long," Priscilla said warmly. "But I should let you start playing and do some rounds. Break a leg!"

"Thanks, I'll see you soon," Jaskier said, watching Priscilla walk to the nearest table before stepping onto the stage.

The weight of the eyes on him made Jaskier swallow nervously as he settled down on the stool. Exhaling slowly he strummed his lute and gave his customary introduction. It was nice, not having to think of his words and simply going through the routine. Having had time and the focus to plan his performance helped too. A lot.

Keeping his eyes on his lute to block out the crowd, he sang.

It was easy to let the music carry him from piece to piece, bringing the end of the performance forth quicker than he had expected. Getting up, Jaskier bowed and thanked his audience before hastily making his way back to his table. Stopping by Geralt's shoulder, Jaskier asked, "Priscilla, would you like to go upstairs with Geralt and me now?"

"You're not going to wait to see if any of the patrons wants to congratulate you for a wonderful performance?" Tymon asked, surprised.

"Not tonight, no." Jaskier shook his head.

"Well, if Jaskier and Priscilla are already leaving, I think I'll do so too and go visit Lyssa," Antoni said, draining his drink. "No offense to you Tymon but I'd rather gaze upon her beauty than your boring face."

"Haha, very funny," Tymon deadpanned.

"Are you together?" Jaskier asked, remembering Antoni had been trying to court her last summer.

"We're definitely something," Antoni agreed with a grin.

"Congratulations," Jaskier said, stepping back to let Geralt get up. "I'll see you both later, then."

It didn't take long for Priscilla to say her own goodbyes and follow them upstairs.

"Jaskier, darling? What's going on?" Priscilla asked seriously, placing her lute down next to Jaskier's. "You're acting strangely and it's definitely not because you're trying to figure out a way to tell me your years-long crush finally worked out."

"You heard about Geralt and I?" Jaskier asked to buy time, pulling a chair for her.

"Your friends couldn't wait to tell her," Geralt said, staying right by his side and sounding long-suffering.

"In their defense, it is quite a delicious piece of gossip and Oxenfurt thrives on tales," Priscilla said, sitting down and crossing her legs.

"It's bards that thrive on those," Geralt stated.

"And poets." Priscilla nodded. Refocusing on Jaskier, she said, "Now, tell me what's going on."

Feeling old beyond his years, Jaskier sighed and took a seat in the other chair. He wasn't looking forward to this. At all. But at least it was just pained weariness pressing down on him instead of pure panic. Maybe having talked about what had happened twice in so little time had numbed things a bit.

Staring at the floor Jaskier started quietly, "Last summer I got hired to perform at a minor king's feast. Marden really liked me, wanted to become my patron. Wanted me to stay with him. I didn't agree and he didn't take it well."

Such an understatement.

"He made it very clear what would happen if I left. I had dragged Geralt to the feast with me and he'd be the first one to pay the price. Did. He got stabbed, almost decapitated."

Jaskier closed his burning eyes as Priscilla made a shocked sound.

He knew he had fucked up.

"I shouldn't have been so visibly upset after my walk with Marden that Geralt decided to just grab my drunk ass and leave."

Geralt's low dissatisfied grumble made him curl into himself.

"We didn't manage to get away, that's how Geralt got hurt. He was thrown into the dungeon while I was led to a guest bedroom. I was left mostly alone for the night. Come morning… Marden— He— I—" Jaskier said, pressing the palms of his hands against his eyes in a futile attempt to keep tears away. He was so damn tired of crying. "Things happened. I sang for Marden and his wife. Geralt freed himself and me. We got away."

It would have been so much better if that had been the end. But no, in so many ways it felt like it had been just the beginning of the fucking nightmare.

"I just… I'm having trouble moving on. I'm sorry. Sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Geralt said. Jaskier had no idea how many times he had repeated the sentiment.

"Jaskier, love, listen to Geralt. It's alright to still hurt," Priscilla said gently. There was rustling as if she was getting up to cross the small distance between them but it stopped suddenly. Maybe Geralt had given some sort of a sign.

"Sorry I couldn't let you hug me. I don't like being touched anymore, not by anyone but Geralt and even he can be too much. Please don't try to touch me from now on," Jaskier said, using his sleeves to wipe away tears. He needed to get a grip.

"I won't."

"Thanks."

A few deep breaths and Jaskier dared to look at Priscilla. She was watching him with wide worried eyes and parted lips, leaning forward like she wanted to come to his side.

At least it wasn't pity on her face.

"I've been depressed and anxious ever since. It hasn't been the easiest year for me. Or Geralt for that matter. A lot has happened and so much of it was things going wrong," Jaskier said. "I'm sorry I've changed from how I was last time we saw."

"Jaskier, that's probably the stupidest apology I've ever been given," Priscilla said, raising her brows. "Why in the world would I be offended by you having gone through something pivotal?"

Because she had liked, loved, him and he wasn't the same person anymore. Would never be.

"I'm not capable of acting like I used to, won't be able to fall into the dynamic we had."

"Oh, darling. I don't need to kiss your cheek in greeting or have you be the life of the party. I'll be happy to learn all the differences. Besides, nothing can change the fact that it's you," Priscilla said, voice gentle and eyes intense.

"Ah."

"Listen to her," Geralt said.

"I love you and nothing that was done to you could possibly change it. It's clear you're still hurting but that's not going to make me leave. If anything, it makes me want to stay. You're dear to me and I'd take the hurt away in a heartbeat if I could but since I can't, let me rediscover how to be your friend instead," Priscilla said, tone growing fiercer.

"Oh."

Jaskier wished he had the right words to tell her how much that meant. It was almost strange hearing all the affirmation and love said so openly, so impossible to twist into a different meaning.

Since everything would be insufficient, he smiled and said, "Thank you, Priscilla. Truly. I shouldn't doubt you."

"I'm glad you see that," Priscilla said.

"I, uh, I actually have another request aside from not touching me," Jaskier said, unable to help the nervousness despite Priscilla's wonderful declaration. "Could you please drop the endearments? For now at least. I'll let you know if I change my mind."

It was nice knowing that the small approving sound Geralt made was because of him actually asking for what he needed instead of jealousy. Things would be so much more difficult if Geralt was the possessive type. The trust he had in him was warming, especially since the track record of his past relationships was far from stellar.

"Of course I'll stop," Priscilla said immediately. "I might slip at some point but please know it won't be purposeful."

"I know."

"I hope you also know that I really am happy to have run into you."

"And I'm really happy about it too," Jaskier said. "Although, I think that's more than enough about me. I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier about what you've been up to."

"Don't apologize, I'm glad you confided in me," Priscilla said. "I spent most of last year in Kovir, part of it traveling around and part of it in the court. The place was absolutely freezing during the winter. Which is an experience you probably shared? I don't know where Kaer Morhen is aside from the North but I imagine it's not in the warmest of climates."

"It's not," Geralt confirmed.

"I've never been anywhere colder or seen more snow in my life," Jaskier said. "Oh! I also finally saw the northern lights. They were absolutely gorgeous. Do they appear in Kovir too?"

"They do. There's nothing quite like them," Priscilla said. "But let's continue catching up later. You look exhausted."

Which was a fair assessment. He knew his perpetually dark eye bags made him look so and he was feeling the hollow tiredness going over what had happened with Marden always caused. Maybe one day he'd be able to talk about it without it draining him but it definitely wasn't tonight. Maybe one day he also wouldn't be almost constantly more or less tired.

"That's probably for the best," Jaskier agreed. "I'll see you later, tomorrow maybe? Unless you have something else planned. It's perfectly alright if you're busy."

"Tomorrow it is! I have errands to run in the morning but I'll be available for lunch, maybe a little earlier too."

"I'll be almost surely here regardless of the time so feel free to knock at any point," Jaskier said. Since Geralt would be busy with the investigation, he wouldn't be wandering far.

"I'll see you later, Jaskier, Geralt. Sleep well," Priscilla said warmly, exiting the room.

As Jaskier ran his hands down his face, Geralt asked, "Are you alright?"

"Surprisingly well considering the topic," Jaskier sighed. "Although, I do feel wrung out."

"Headache?"

"...Getting one."

It was Geralt's turn to sigh.

"I know, I know. I would have said so soon," Jaskier said.

"Good. I'll never understand why you still try to pretend not having one," Geralt grumbled, retrieving a vial of painkiller.

To be honest, Jaskier wasn't completely sure either. It just was such a common occurrence and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. Besides, he could shrug off most of them without much trouble.

"Hopefully Shani will have some advice about them," Geralt said, handing Jaskier the vial. "Don't stay up to wait for me. I have no idea how late in the night I'll return."

"Stop fretting. I'm fine," Jaskier said, smiling slightly.

"I don't fret."

"Yes you do."

"Drink the damn potion."

Chuckling Jaskier did as told.

Standing up he said, "You're welcome to come to bed whenever you arrive regardless of whether or not I'll be awake. Don't decide to nap in a chair or something. Also, I know you have to leave in a minute but could you hold me for a moment…?"

It felt so selfish to keep Geralt away from actually important things. He still couldn't help the way he yearned for the closeness, the comfort of having Geralt's arms around him. He needed the proof that Geralt truly was with him and that Marden hadn't permanently ripped him away. That he was safe. That they both were safe.

He wanted to be safe.

"Of course," Geralt said, opening his arms and letting Jaskier hug him before gently holding him. It'd be easy to disengage, Geralt's touch butterfly light.

"You can hug me tighter," Jaskier murmured, voice muffled by Geralt's shirt. "Want to feel you."

"Hmmm." Gradually the hug tightened and Geralt started rubbing the familiar circles on Jaskier's shoulder blade with his thumb.

It was safe.

Loving.

"I love you," Jaskier said, trying to get even closer. He didn't want to be aware of anything else than Geralt. Wanted to steal a few more seconds. Wanted to tug Geralt to the bed so they could cuddle.

But there was no time for that.

"I love you too," Geralt said, briefly squeezing him.

"Love you," Jaskier repeated, letting go and Geralt immediately doing the same. "Now, it's time for you to go save Oxenfurt."

"That's not what I'm doing," Geralt said, starting to don his armor.

"Close enough." Jaskier shrugged. "Stay safe, okay? Do your best at least, I know that's impossible to promise."

"I'll do my best," Geralt agreed. With a worried frown he asked, "Are you sure you're alright with staying alone. I know talking about the feast takes a lot out of you."

"I'll be fine. I'm just going to bed soon so it'd be incredibly boring for you anyway if you stayed. Besides, your work is more important," Jaskier said, checking his lute was safe in its case.

"Hmmm."

"Go." Since Geralt kept staring at him, Jaskier ventured, "Or you could give me a kiss first?"

"Yes."

"Kiss it is then," Jaskier said, offering his right hand.

With utmost care Geralt took it and as Jaskier nodded brought it to his lips. It was chaste yet lingering like Geralt didn't want it to end. After a few more heartbeats he let go of Jaskier's hand, keeping eye contact.

"Thank you, dear heart," Jaskier said, stepping back. Which he very much didn't want to do. "Shoo, shoo. Go."

"I'm not a horse to shoo away," Geralt huffed, strapping his swords to his back.

"You smell like one so it's rather fitting. I'm serious, though. It's time for you to continue your hunt," Jaskier said, sitting on the bed and tugging his boots off. "I'm going to change so you need to step out anyway too."

"Fine," Geralt sighed. "Sleep well."

"Happy hunting," Jaskier said, blowing a kiss before Geralt turned around and exited the room.

Chapter Text

The address led Geralt to the seedier side of Oxenfurt. Leaning against a shadowed wall of the opposite house, he surveyed the two store building. It was just as old and slightly decrepit as the ones surrounding it, standing out only because of the muffled sounds Geralt could hear behind the closed door and windows. Just as he was about to cross the street, a couple stopped by the door and knocked four times.

Immediately someone cracked the door open, asking, "What do you want?"

"A hand so lucky everything turns to gold," the woman who had knocked answered promptly yet quiet enough that even Geralt's sharp hearing barely caught it.

"Alright, come in," a man Geralt guessed to be the bouncer said, opening the door and letting the couple in. Looking around, the bouncer quickly shut the door behind them.

A password then.

After letting a few minutes pass to make it less obvious that he was copying the action, Geralt walked to the door and knocked.

Just as before, the door was cracked open and the same question asked.

"A hand so lucky everything turns to gold," Geralt said, only for silence to follow.

"Who the fuck are you?" the bouncer asked, opening the door slightly more so he could see Geralt better.

Well, fuck.

"Someone who wants to make his money grow fast," Geralt said evenly, eyeing the sword on the bouncer's hip. A slightly worrying difference from The Rolling Rook and other gambling houses he had visited along the years. A cudgel or a knife wasn't too out of the ordinary, especially for the less reputable establishments but an actual sword? Much rarer.

"Oh yeah? But why are you here? There's plenty of other places for that."

"I was told I could find privacy and high stakes."

"By who?"

"The owner. I knew the password, everything is in order so you should let me in without any trouble," Geralt said, forming Axii with the hand hidden by the door. Shoving down the strange cold twisting feeling in his chest casting the sign on a human caused, he watched as the bouncer's eyes went blank for a second.

"Alright, yeah. Everything is in order." The bouncer nodded, stepping aside. "Come in."

"Hmmm."

Geralt couldn't immediately see anything that would warrant secrecy as he entered the den, just the expected sight of people gambling and drinking. Heading to the bar, he passed an open doorway to the adjoining room with more people and a staircase leading both to the second floor and downstairs.

"Had a little trouble getting in, eh? What was the hangup?" the bartender asked, eyeing Geralt curiously.

"Just a small misunderstanding since it's my first time here," Geralt said, displeased that it had been noticed.

"Rare to see your kind and Otto takes his job seriously. You probably weren't what he expected," the bartender said. "What will you have?"

"Ale and some advice on how things are run here would be good."

"I can certainly do both. You're welcome to join any table that has space as you'll be playing against the house. Upstairs is for high stakes so don't bother going there if you can't place hundred or more crowns as a starter," the bartender explained, handing Geralt his drink.

"And downstairs?"

"The Red Games, obviously," the bartender said, giving a puzzled look.

"Obviously." Geralt nodded. "When does the next one start?"

"Tomorrow night. Planning on participating? I bet you'd do great, what with your… experience," the bartender said, gesturing at all of Geralt.

"We'll see," Geralt said. "Thanks."

"No worries, information on how things are run here seems to be just as much a part of my job as supplying the drinks." The bartender smiled. "Have fun."

"Hmmm."

Taking a sip of his drink, Geralt joined a slightly secluded table with a couple of other players. After sharing polite greetings he fell silent, listening to the idle conversations going on and waiting for the current round of cards to end. It was slightly disappointing that no one in the room was talking about The Red Games. It'd have been much easier to simply eavesdrop instead of bringing up the topic himself.

After playing a few rounds Geralt spoke up as his playing partners had a lull in their discussion, "I heard The Red Games happen tomorrow. How would I sign up?"

He could practically feel the energy of the table change.

"I'm not surprised you'd be interested in that," the croupier said, eyeing Geralt's sword and armor. "I don't know what kind of odds you'd garner but it'd definitely bring an audience so they might let you sign up late."

"Hmmm."

"You should talk to Demian, he's the booker. You can find him upstairs."

"I'll go find him then," Geralt said, folding his obviously losing cards and standing up.

Unlike at The Rolling Rook the upstairs didn't seem much different; no table full of free refreshments or doors leading to private rooms. The clientele was a bit better dressed compared to the main floor but even they didn't exude the same aura of wealth.

"I'm looking for Demian," Geralt said.

"That's me. Let me finish this round and I'll be right with you," one of the croupiers said. In a few minutes he crossed the room to where Geralt was waiting. "So, what can I do for you?"

"I was told you're the one to talk about The Red Games," Geralt said.

"Yes, indeed. Are you looking to join?" Demian asked curiously.

"Perhaps. I'd like to know more first."

"Well, the sign ups have closed already but I can wave that considering how much of a novelty having you would be. Should bring a bigger audience despite the short notice," Demian said, stroking his beard. "There's also the participation fee you need to pay that goes towards the price before I add you to the roster."

"How much?"

"Fifty crowns. Got to make it worth the risks."

"Hmmm."

"It should go without saying but we aren't liable for any injury that might happen. You know what you're getting into so it's on you."

Which was exactly what he wanted to learn. Too bad asking outright would immediately paint him as an outsider.

"And if I'd prefer to watch?"

"Frankly, now that I know you have interest in the games I want you as a participant. Having a Witcher is too good an opportunity to pass. I can't remember a single time any games in Oxenfurt or Novigrad have had that," Demian stated. "Sign up or stay away."

Well, shit. That didn't leave many options.

"Fine. Do I pay now?" Geralt asked, hiding his frustration behind a blank expression. If his guess was right, being in the game was not something he wanted to do.

"Yeah." Demian nodded. "The game starts at midnight tomorrow but be sure to arrive at least an hour earlier."

"I will," Geralt said, handing him the money and walking away. It was time to pay another visit to The Rolling Rook.

Geralt could feel Pawel's glare the moment he stepped through the door. Not paying any heed to it, he headed to the staircase the bouncer was blocking.

"You came back," Pawel sneered.

"I have a membership," Geralt stated, showing the painted chip.

"Yet you're not here to play. There's something fucking fishy about you and I won't stand for it," Pawel said, voice dripping animosity and crossing his arms. "I'm going to enjoy throwing your sorry ass out the moment mistress Lis decides you asked the wrong question."

"You're blocking my path," Geralt said, not feeling like entertaining Pawel's posturing. "Move."

For a moment he was sure that Pawel wasn't going to do so. Then with a heartfelt curse the bouncer stepped aside and let him pass. Not wasting another second, Geralt strode up the stairs only to stop in surprise as he spotted familiar faces. He hadn't expected the harpist he had heard from downstairs to be Suzanna nor had he thought any of Jaskier's friends to be members as he noticed Antoni playing cards with an unfamiliar woman.

"Mind if I join?" Geralt asked, walking to Antoni.

"Geralt, I had no idea you go here!" Antoni exclaimed. "Sure, take a seat."

"I got in just recently."

"Didn't you and Jaskier arrive only a couple of days ago?" Antoni asked, disapproval coloring his voice.

Fair. Him appearing to have spent most of his time gambling while Jaskier was stuck at the inn didn't paint a flattering image.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" the unfamiliar woman asked, looking wary.

"Of course. Alicja, this is Geralt of Rivia. Geralt, this is Alicja Żuraw, a fellow archivist at the academy who has a keen mind rivaled only by her beauty," Antoni said, gesturing between them.

At the sudden discordant chord Geralt looked at Suzanna, noticing her glaring daggers at Antoni's back. Despite immediately recovering her playing, she stayed tense and her haggard face stormy. Perhaps he wasn't the only one who had thought Antoni was spending his evening with Lyssa, let alone expected to find him gambling with a woman while all dressed up in a silken deep green attire and blond hair carefully arranged unlike earlier.

"Pleased to meet you." Alicja said despite some of the wariness remaining. Turning to Antoni she added, "I didn't know you're friends with a Witcher."

"We're acquainted through Jaskier," Antoni said.

"Ah. That explains it." Alicja nodded. "He's always been a bit peculiar."

At her words Geralt refocused on Alicja, narrowing his eyes.

Before he could decide if it was meant as an insult or not Antoni shrugged. "Jaskier has never cared about others' opinions when it comes to people he befriends. And Geralt seems nice enough."

Geralt could only raise his eyebrows at the description.

"Now that the introductions are done, should we play something?" Antoni suggested, starting to deftly deal cards.

"Have you played here for long?" Geralt asked, inspecting his starting hand.

"Alicja introduced me to this place about eight months ago and after a very lucky evening I joined the upstairs three months ago," Antoni said.

"I've been playing here for a year or so," Alicja said after a short pause when Antoni didn't continue.

"You're familiar with how things are run here, then?" Geralt asked.

"I'd think so." Antoni nodded, placing a card on the table, Alicja swiftly following suit.

"I know of the owner and Pawel but are there any other people in charge? Lis normally visits infrequently, right?"

"Once or twice a month usually. She's been here most nights since Bendek's murder but— Wait. Are you investigating that?" Antoni asked, staring at Geralt wide eyed and thankfully lowering his voice.

"Hmmm."

"Oh. That's…"

"Are we in danger because of it?" Alicja asked, almost hissing the words. "I will not get tangled in some Witcher-y business."

"Not that I know of," Geralt said.

"Not that you know of," Alicja repeated, lips thinning. "One more game and then you leave us alone, is that clear?"

"Alicja—" Antoni tried.

"No. Either he leaves or I will."

"Alright. Sorry, Geralt. What the lady wants, she gets."

"It's fine," Geralt said, placing down a winning card and earning an annoyed look from Alicja. "You were telling me about how things are run when Lis isn't here."

"The bartender who's downstairs —Feliks— is in charge of the entertainment, hiring the bards and such. Suzanna got her job about a month and a half ago if I remember correctly," Antoni started.

At the mention of Suzanna Geralt glanced over his shoulder at her, noting that he hadn't been imagining the dark glare still boring into Antoni's back. It was a good thing she was playing instrumental music since it seemed doubtful that she'd be able to sing with the way she clenched her teeth.

Geralt refocused on their game as Antoni continued, "Renata is in charge of the croupiers. She doesn't tend to host much anymore unless it's for the wealthiest of the patrons. Usually she's doing administrative work or something similar. You probably haven't met her unless you visit during the day and early evening. Pawel's in charge of the security like you probably guessed. There's also a couple other bouncers but they have far fewer shifts and have much better temperament if you ask me."

"Have you noticed them or any of the patrons acting strangely lately?"

"Not that I can remember." Antoni shook his head. "Pawel did come to work looking pretty beat up a couple of weeks ago but that has happened plenty of times before."

"Hmmm."

"I can't remember anything either," Alicja said, voice clipped and tossing a card on the table, bringing the game to a close. "It's time for you to leave us alone, Witcher."

"I'll let you or Jaskier know if I remember something later," Antoni promised. "Have a good night, Geralt."

"Thanks, you too," Geralt said, heading to join another game.

He hadn't found out much of anything new by the time Suzanna started her break. Joining her by the refreshments, Geralt asked, "Mind if I talk with you for a bit?"

"Not at all," Suzanna said, pouring wine for herself and leading Geralt to the farthest table from the others.

"Antoni mentioned that you've worked here for a month and a half. You're probably familiar with the place and patrons by now?" Geralt asked. At Suzanna's nod he continued, "Has anything seemed different the past few weeks from how things were when you started?"

"Everything seems different but that's probably just me," Suzanna said, lowering her bloodshot eyes. "It's… I've had hard past weeks and it's been difficult to focus on anything else than what I'm feeling."

"Hmmm." That wasn't surprising. If he lost Jaskier— He refused to even think about it. It had also come far too close to happening far too often for comfort.

"I'm sorry I haven't really paid attention to others. Is there a reason why you ask? Maybe I'd be able to think of something if I knew what you're looking for," Suzanna said.

Letting her know should be fine. It wasn't exactly a secret and Jaskier tended to be a good judge of people and had known Suzanna for years.

"I'm investigating the recent murders," Geralt said, lowering his voice so no one else could hear.

"Oh," Suzanna said, gripping her wineglass tighter. After a moment she nodded. "Jaskier mentioned something about it earlier. I'm not sure how I can help, though."

"You're familiar with the place. You might have noticed if there's been recent changes, be it in how things are managed or how the patrons have been acting," Geralt said. "Did you know Bendek Sitora, Szlama Nowakowski or Arkadiusz Kamiński? Even by looks."

"I knew of Sitora, he worked at the academy's library so I saw him occasionally," Suzanna said.

"Did anything strike you as odd the last time you saw him?"

"He got kicked out, which you probably have already heard. He was otherwise acting like always from what I remember."

"What was normal for him?"

"Being boisterous, flaunting his wealth —or rather lying about it as it turned out—, flirting with every woman in the room," Suzanna said, voice darkening. "I had thought he was better than that from the little interactions we had at the library. He seemed like a nice person."

"Hmmm."

"But like I said, I didn't know him well at—" Suzanna cut herself off as Antoni's laugh rang out. It seemed almost surprising she didn't break the stem of her wine glass as her grip tightened even more.

"Something bothering you?" Geralt asked mildly as Suzanna glowered at Antoni's back.

"He should appreciate what he's been building with Lyssa, not entertain another woman. He has no idea— No idea what it's like to—" Suzanna ground out before downing her wine in one go. Standing up she curtly said, "My break is over. Have a good night, Geralt."

"You too," Geralt said, highly doubting it. She seemed far too livid for that.

It was only a couple of hours before sunrise that Geralt returned to the inn. Their room was dark and still, curtains drawn and Jaskier deeply asleep under blankets by the sound of his breathing. Geralt readied himself for bed as silently as he could, occasionally glancing at Jaskier to make sure he wasn't disrupting his sorely needed rest. Taking care not to shift the rolled up bedroll separating their sides of the bed Geralt laid down only to freeze as Jaskier turned to face him. With a soft sigh Jaskier nuzzled his pillow, continuing slumbering. Something about it made Geralt want to reach out and gently brush Jaskier's cheekbone, to run his fingers down his cheek and pet his cropped hair. It was a familiar wish, yearning to touch yet unable to do so.

Instead Geralt studied Jaskier's face, trying to memorize each detail; the way his lips were slightly parted and dark lashes fanned out against pale skin, the way his brows were relaxed with no signs of distress or nightmares. The way Jaskier remained the most beautiful thing in the world regardless of how his looks had changed.

"I love you," Geralt whispered, words sticky in his mouth.

Sharing the sentiment had become much easier as time had passed but being the first to say the words was still difficult. It made him feel strangely vulnerable, like he was revealing a part of him that could be dealt a mortal wound. Still, managing to do so was always worth it. Worth seeing the delight on Jaskier's face and hearing the words echoed with the utmost sincerity.

"I love you," Geralt repeated even quieter, closing his eyes and clenching the sheet to keep from touching.

"What time did you return?" Jaskier asked, putting his boots on.

"Well past midnight, Geralt said, starting the last set of his morning stretches.

"Definitely a good thing I didn't try to wait for you then. Although, it's strange going to bed without you next to me. Kind of lonely too," Jaskier said wistfully. "I know it's unavoidable so don't you dare to feel guilty. I'm just looking forward to when we'll properly have time to spend together. It feels like ages ago that we've done much else than shared meals."

"It's been only few days."

"Come now, dear heart. I know you agree with me," Jaskier said, watching Geralt bend over his leg.

"Hmmm."

"I don't need to see your face to know you're smiling."

"I'm not."

"You're fooling absolutely no one. I can tell from your tone," Jaskier said. "I've also finalized the plans for that date I'll be taking you so you're going to get a treat once you finish the hunt."

That made Geralt chuckle, the sound warming Jaskier's heart.

"I'm not a dog to train with treats," Geralt said, switching legs. "Or a horse."

"No, you're not," Jaskier agreed, "but you still deserve to have nice things. There's not much I can do but I can ensure that at least."

"You're capable of much more than you think. Don't sell yourself short," Geralt said, tone turning serious.

"I'd rather not sell myself at all," Jaskier said, tugging at his left sleeve in an attempt to make it cover more of his skin.

"Jaskier—"

"No. We're not going to touch that topic this morning," Jaskier stated, realizing having spoken aloud. "I've had quite enough of it after going over things so many times here. I really didn't mean to reply like that to your offhand comment. Let's just get back to enjoying each other's company, okay?"

"Fine," Geralt said. "I still meant it."

"And I thank you for the sentiment. Now, did you learn anything interesting yesterday?"

There was a lengthy pause before Geralt straightened up and let the unfortunate slip of tongue be, asking, "Did you know Antoni gambles at The Rook and Suzanna is working as a bard there?"

"They do?" Jaskier said, intrigued.

"Hmmm."

"Huh. That could be useful. Did you get a chance to talk with them? I bet they'd be happy to answer whatever questions you might have."

"I did, although not for particularly long." Geralt nodded. "Antoni had company and she wasn't too keen on talking with me. Suzanna hadn't had a second break by the time I left."

"Didn't Antoni say he was going to visit Lyssa?" Jaskier asked curiously, knowing he was focusing on the wrong thing.

"Yeah. Suzanna seemed furious that he was spending time with another woman."

"I don't know what kind of an arrangement Antoni and Lyssa have, but seeing him with someone else might have felt like a slap in the face for her considering it wasn't too long since she lost her husband," Jaskier said, heart aching for Suzanna. He knew he'd irreversibly fall to pieces if Geralt died. Each time Geralt got hurt was difficult and the times he had come close to losing his life were still a source of nightmares despite it not having happened in a relatively long time. Not since the graveir last summer. That whole affair was a fog of terror and crippling anxiety, not letting him even remember everything. Which might be for the best, all things considered. He loathed losing time but it had undeniably been useful on occasion, letting him have a break from everything in a twisted way. Still, he'd rather not dissociate ever again if he could choose.

"I suppose," Geralt said, getting up. "Nowakowski's gambling establishment was interesting too. Something called The Red Games are hosted there."

"...The Red Games… I think I read something about that in the ledger." Jaskier moved to look through his notes. Pointing, he said, "See here. The Red Games. It seems to be a list of participants, their odds, and how much profit they've brought the house on which evening. And that's probably the list of winners. Those are entrance fees… Oh, I really don't like that there's names under a column called 'Red'. Ominous, don't you think?"

"Agreed."

"That section seems to end with today's date and a blank space. Maybe they're hosting one tonight?"

"They are. I signed up."

"You did what?" Jaskier exclaimed. "Do you even know what the games are?"

"I have a guess," Geralt said.

"You're being suspiciously laconic all of a sudden. What aren't you sharing?" Jaskier asked, narrowing his eyes.

"From the way people acted I think it's some sort of a bloodsport," Geralt said evenly.

"A bloodsport?! Which you are participating in?!" Jaskier squawked. "What the hell, Geralt?"

"It was the only way to get to see what the games are about. They wouldn't let me be just a spectator." Geralt shrugged.

Fuck. Fuck. Geralt's job was more than dangerous enough without him willingly walking into a fight. And not just boxing or something similarly benign since those wouldn't need any secrecy to host. Bloodsport requiring a coded ledger hidden away pointed straight to something much more sinister, something deadly by design.

Raking his nails down his scalp Jaskier shook his head.

"Beads, Jaskier," Geralt reminded. "Don't hurt yourself."

"I'm not hurting— Fuck," Jaskier ground out, repeating the gesture before clutching his bead necklace with both hands. "I know— I know you have to— That you must—"

Great, now his fucking words were slipping away.

He wanted to kick something.

Taking a hissing breath through his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut Jaskier fidgeted with the beads, trying to focus on their familiar shapes. The small imperfections of the wood and the smoothness of the brass ones. Something concrete to shut out the flash of anger and anxiety.

"Want to break some sticks?" Geralt offered, making Jaskier look at him in puzzlement.

"Huh?"

"Stick breaking. One of Lambert's suggestions for anger management, remember? Might help you calm down faster. It has worked for me," Geralt said, fishing a couple from his pocket and handing them to Jaskier.

Breaking them into tiny pieces was a somewhat calming activity, smoothing away the urge to kick something. Throwing them against the wall helped too, although it'd be a pain trying to find all the scattered pieces. But that would be a future annoyance. Right now it working was enough.

"Feeling better?"

"...Mmhmm… Sorry," Jaskier mumbled, flushing.

"Don't apologize," Geralt said, walking to the bed and sitting down. "Join me?"

Without a word Jaskier sat next to Geralt, fidgeting with his beads and avoiding eye contact.

"Can you talk about this at the moment?" Geralt asked.

"...Yeah. Words are coming back. Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay if you need more time to calm down. There's no need to hurry," Geralt said, no scorn or frustration in his voice as if he hadn't yet again overreacted. It kept being strange, having such patience aimed at him and his weakness when all he did was complicate everything and cause problems.

"I'm fine." Jaskier shook his head. Taking a breath that ended up being anything but steadying, he said, "Geralt, you do realize that you might have signed up for a deathmatch, right?"

"It's a real possibility," Geralt agreed. "Still, it's much more likely that it's just armed combat with little or no rules. If every match ended with a kill, keeping things silent would be impossible. Sudden spikes in mortality would be noticed by the officials, let alone by the people who knew the dead. Endeavor as reckless as that would get shut down relatively quickly."

"Even if killing isn't required for winning, there's going to be people who will do so. Those kinds of people are probably going to be excited about a chance to kill a Witcher," Jaskier said, feeling physically ill.

"I know."

He hated that Geralt was more than familiar with such violet bigotry. He didn't deserve it. None of the Witchers did.

"And if you end up killing someone for others' entertainment, you're going to come out bloody and hating yourself," Jaskier continued, eyes burning as he echoed Geralt's words from the day they had met.

"...I know," Geralt repeated quietly.

"Oh, love," Jaskier whispered, gently brushing the back of Geralt's hand before slowly linking their fingers together. "Couldn't you just turn the place in to the city guard and have them deal with it?"

"I can't. They'd simply shut things down causing everyone to scatter. Even if they'd manage to immediately catch important people, getting a halfway coherent picture of what was happening would take days. I can't chance that kind of a delay," Geralt said, squeezing Jaskier's hand with some of the familiar marvel at being touched without permission in his eyes despite the topic.

"What about the fact that you're going to be breaking the law while working for the guard? I doubt they'll look kindly at it," Jaskier asked, matching Geralt's grip.

"I'll let the sergeant know an abridged version."

"Geralt…"

"I have to follow this lead. You know I do."

"I do," Jaskier said, reaching for Geralt with his free hand. Getting a nod, he cupped Geralt's cheek. "I just hate knowing you'll be hurt no matter what happens."

"I highly doubt there's many fighters participating who can match me in the slightest," Geralt said, leaning into the touch.

"You'll be hurt even if you're not wounded, we both know this. You don't have issues with violence when needed but to do so simply for others' entertainment will leave a mark if you have to maim someone. You have a good heart, Geralt."

"I'll be fine."

"I know that too. It's just unfair you have to do things that go against the very person you are," Jaskier said. "You're good and kind and made of love no matter what you tell yourself."

"Hn."

"There's so much passion inside of you, Geralt. Your love is fierce and burns like the sun, like an inferno, it's the reason why you keep fighting even when the odds are stacked against you," Jaskier said, stroking Geralt's cheekbone. "Yet for all that your hands are still the gentlest thing there is when you touch me. Your lips sweeter than summer fruit when you kiss me. Your words more beautiful than any dream when you share your feelings with me. You're a being of love in all its forms, Geralt."

"Jaskier—"

"I simply wish you didn't have to harden yourself against the world that treats you so unfairly. I do understand why you do so, why you find it necessary," Jaskier said. "And no matter what, I'll be here, loving you."

"I love you too," Geralt said, voice raw.

"May I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Jaskier pressed his lips against Geralt’s in a gentle kiss, wishing he could show him that he was the most valuable thing in the world. Nothing mattered as much as Geralt did.

Resting his forehead against Geralt's, Jaskier said, "Participating is a terrible plan. You know that, right?"

"Hmmm."

"Try to stay in one piece."

"I will."

"What are you going to do during the day? The games probably don't start before nightfall," Jaskier asked, leaning back to look at Geralt.

"I need to be there an hour before midnight," Geralt said. "I was thinking about starting with taking another look at the sites the bodies were found in. I doubt I'll find new clues but I might have missed some sort of commonalities, especially in relation to the points of interests we've discovered."

"That at least sounds like a relatively safe activity. I approve." Jaskier nodded.

"Nice to have your blessing," Geralt said, lips twitching upward. "What about you? What are you planning on doing while I'm out?"

"I'm going to re-read the section about the games. Maybe I'll manage to glean more information or recognize some names. I didn't really pay attention to that while I was ciphering," Jaskier said. "Aside from it I need to go through my storage downstairs and then there's lunch with Priscilla."

"Sounds like a busy day," Geralt said, stroking Jaskier's hand with his thumb.

"Don't know about that," Jaskier sighed, miffed that it really was a rather full day for him considering how easily he still tired.

"Just remember to rest too."

"You don't need to worry about me. I'm not the one who's putting their life on the line searching for a murderer," Jaskier said. "Now, shall we go start the day and get breakfast?"

Geralt's small smile at him asking to eat was almost worth having to let go of his hand.

Chapter Text

Jaskier navigated the rows of numbered drawers and wardrobes The Song and Rose loaned for traveling bards and other creatives, heading to where his belongings were stored. Not having a clear view of the large room was unpleasant, keeping him on edge as he braced for running into someone each time he passed a new corner despite not hearing anything but his own footsteps and pounding heartbeat.

Reaching his destination was a small relief.

Unlocking the two large wardrobes and a drawer containing his belongings, Jaskier couldn't help but grimace at the thought of paying for another season. Normally winters meant replenishing his funds with a tenure at the academy or a placement at some court or another. He hadn't had to spend any money while at Kaer Morhen but he also hadn't made any. On top of that, he had been barely able to work last year after the feast, mostly depending on Geralt. Even now he wasn't making nearly as much as before. Maybe he should just sell everything so he wouldn't have to put a dent in the meager amount he managed to contribute. Although, Geralt probably wouldn't be on board with the idea.

Jaskier placed down the saddlebag he had filled with things he wouldn't need until winter. Updating the list of the contents of his storage the inn required as he went, Jaskier frowned as he got to swapping the thick shirts and doublets for the lighter ones suited for warm summer months. He had almost forgotten how many had met their demise in one way or another last year.

Inspecting the doublet that sported ink-soaked sleeves, Jaskier tensed as he heard approaching footsteps.

"That's a unique dye job. Did you do it yourself?" Valdo asked, stopping next to Jaskier.

"Valdo," Jaskier gritted out, wanting to throw the doublet at him and leave.

"Julian."

"What do you want?" Jaskier asked, taking a shuffling step away from Valdo. He hated the way he was being stared at, like he was something truly fascinating. There had been a time when he'd have welcomed the look, even preened at the attention but that had already passed years ago, long before he had even heard of Marden. Now he wanted nothing more than for Valdo to go back to the prickly indifference that had mostly settled in between them after a long period of bitter breakups and unwise entanglements that had followed the end of their real relationship.

"We haven't had time to catch up and I'm curious about what you've been up to. There's quite a bit of gossip going around, you know," Valdo said.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed, not surprised by the confirmation of his guess.

"What did you do to this poor doublet? Surely not even you can find it fashionable despite your updated looks," Valdo asked, reaching for it.

The moment Valdo moved Jaskier dropped the doublet and hastily backed away, stopping only when he collided with the drawer. Ignoring the way it dug into his spine as he leaned away, he tried to will the familiar tingling in his fingers away. He would not have a panic attack in front of Valdo-fucking-Marx. Absolutely not. He'd rather run away tail between his legs and make himself look like a fool. Although, that wasn't an option either at the moment with the way he was frozen in place.

"No need to be so dramatic. It's not like I'm diseased," Valdo said, eyebrows rising. As Jaskier stayed still, he picked the doublet up and offered it to him.

Jaskier silently shook his head, anticipating it to be handed to him regardless.

Instead Valdo dropped the doublet with an annoyed sigh and far too much flare. "If you want it to get dirty on top of everything, have it your way. Who am I to give you fashion tips since you've clearly changed your tastes into something more suitable for a wastrel instead of a minstrel."

Jaskier kept taking carefully measured breaths, unwillingly grateful that Valdo was staying away from him.

"Really, Julian, has the Witcher rubbed off on you so much that you don't even speak anymore?" Valdo asked, pursing his lips.

"Don't talk about Geralt like that," Jaskier said quietly, mirroring some of Valdo's irritation despite the fear still churning in his chest.

"What in the world do you even see in him? Beyond the tales that is. I must admit that following him around has been useful to you considering the amount of songs you've written despite their highly questionable quality," Valdo said, flicking his hand dismissively.

"He's a better man than you could ever be," Jaskier stated. Why he couldn't simply walk away or at least not make the situation worse, he didn't know.

"Ha!" Valdo barked a hard laugh. "A better man? He's barely even one. I've never understood your infatuation with him but you've never had much class so maybe I shouldn't be surprised."

"You don't know him. You know absolutely nothing about how good he is, how kind, how much he cares. How much I love him," Jaskier said fiercely, biting back the malicious addition of 'More than I ever loved you.' He didn't want to truly fight with Valdo, knowing he'd crumble almost immediately. He was far too close to doing so as it was.

"For how long? We both know you're incapable of staying faithful," Valdo said, looking Jaskier up and down as he took a step closer. "Your heart is a fickle thing, always looking for someone new to shower with affection. It's simply who you are."

Jaskier's breath hitched, eyes flicking to the nearest escape route. "I'm not— It's not— You too—"

"We both know you haven't changed that much, Julian. Which brings me to my original reason for coming to talk with you. What happened last year?" Valdo asked, studying him.

Jaskier could only shake his head mutely, feeling like his heart was about to burst out of his ribcage due to its frantic beating. He didn't want to think about it. He couldn't think about it or he'd start crying. He refused to let Valdo see him so pathetically weak. He had sworn to himself to never again let Valdo witness that side of him and he wasn't going to break now. He wasn't. Not even as his eyes burned and throat constricted.

"Oh, come now. It couldn't have been that bad."

That was true, it could have been so much worse.

"Please, don't…" Jaskier whispered, voice cracking and hating himself for pleading. "Just leave me alone."

That did make Valdo pause, looking at Jaskier strangely. "Interesting. You really are different than last time we saw each other, and not just your bedraggled looks."

Jaskier wished he wasn't interesting, wished Valdo didn't continue looking at him in fascination like he was a puzzle to solve. He didn't want him to try to keep digging for information or try to get closer to him again. Didn't want Valdo to think he might have a chance to yet again pull him into one of their unwise hook ups that had been so frequent. Didn't want anything at all to do with him, regardless of what Valdo was thinking about. The only thing he wanted was to simply vanish, to get away from him before he shattered into pieces.

"What in the world did you do?" Valdo wondered.

Of course Valdo would think it was something he did. Although, it wasn't completely incorrect. He had fucked up many times, chosen the wrong things to do and say.

Jaskier shuddered, trying his hardest to block the crowding memories.

"Fine," Valdo sighed. "You're not going to divulge anything, are you?"

Jaskier could only stare at him, fixated on every small movement. He couldn't let himself be caught off-guard.

"I have no idea what's going on in that head of yours but let's actually catch up later when you've gathered yourself. I'll be happy to tell you all about my success in Cidaris if you'd prefer to listen in silence," Valdo said, turning on his heel with a handwave and walking away without waiting for an answer.

It sounded like a threat. Like he was granted a short reprieve before the interrogation would continue. On the other hand, it wouldn't be the first time that Valdo gave a weak and conceited peace offering. Jaskier hoped it was the latter despite not being able to convince himself of it in the least.

Jaskier managed to finally blink as Valdo stepped out of view. Flexing his tingling fingers, he peeled himself off the drawer and locked it and the wardrobes. Moving mechanically he grabbed his saddlebag, the doublet on the floor, and the item list, heading back to his room without paying attention to the tavern's crowd he passed. After testing multiple times that the door was firmly locked Jaskier headed to the farthest corner and slid down until he could curl into himself and rest his forehead on his knees. The tears he had been holding back started to run down his cheeks as he tried to make himself even smaller.

He hated this. Hated how easy it was to turn him into a crying mess. He should be doing better than that by now. Should be able to handle a small conflict and some unkind words. It was far from the first time or the worst argument with Valdo. It hadn't even been one.

Raking his nails down his scalp Jaskier took laborious breaths, not truly feeling the sensation. Everything was getting slightly removed and hazy. It was better. He didn't want the pain lancing through his chest or the white-hot frustration. Didn't want any of it. He was vaguely aware that he still should try to ground himself, try to recognize physical sensations and things around him. It was somehow important.

Instead he pressed his forehead harder against his knees, letting himself float.

He had no idea how much time had passed when a knocking slowly drew his attention. It wasn't the familiar pattern Geralt used. He didn't know what to do, didn't know who was trying to get in.

"Jaskier?"

He knew that voice.

"Are you in?"

Priscilla. Which meant it should be safe to open the door. She wouldn't have brought any strangers with her.

Jaskier walked to the door with numb legs and heart in his throat. There was another knock as he kept blankly staring at it. Finally he managed to unlock the door and crack it open just enough to confirm it really was only Priscilla.

"Are you ready for lunch?" Priscilla asked, sounding unsure.

Jaskier shook his head and stepped back, letting Priscilla enter. Wiping his drying tear tracks, he avoided meeting her eyes.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Priscilla asked, voice full of concern.

Jaskier could only shake his head again, words gone. It still felt like he was only half present in his body, everything far away. He knew it wasn't supposed to be like that. Knew he was supposed to do something about it. He just couldn't think.

"Oh, hon—" Priscilla cut herself off, probably remembering she wasn't supposed to use endearments.

It was nice that one of them had a working memory.

"Jaskier, it's alright. It will be alright. I know it will," Priscilla said gently as Jaskier continued shaking his head, "and I'll be right here with you. Would you like to sit down? You seem quite unsteady on your feet. We don't want you to accidentally hurt yourself, do we?"

Her soft voice was pleasant to listen to. Something to focus on.

It was also nice that she didn't comment on the fact that he went back to his corner. He knew he had to appear pathetic, needing the certainty that no one would be able to approach him unnoticed.

"It's perfectly alright if you don't feel like talking. We can just sit in silence. Or I could sing something?" Priscilla offered, turning a chair to face him and sitting down.

Jaskier gave a small nod, still avoiding looking at her face. At least the tears had stopped before she arrived. He didn't want her to worry even more than she surely did.

Priscilla started humming a sweet tune, soon continuing to the lyrics. It was a good distraction. He knew the song, could follow it in his mind. Gradually the visual of his fidgeting fingers was connecting to the movements he made and the woolen blanket enveloping his thoughts slid off as Priscilla sang song after song.

"Thank you," Jaskier said, voice feeble and scratchy.

Priscilla kept singing until the song finished. "You don't have to thank me. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. You're far too dear to me to ignore your distress."

She was smiling when Jaskier finally met her eyes. He wished there wasn't a hint of sadness in them.

"Still, thank you. I'd… I'm not sure how long it would have taken me to get out of my head without your help," Jaskier admitted.

"But you would have done so. You're far stronger than you think," Priscilla said, sounding absolutely certain.

Jaskier closed his eyes, failing to believe her. Not wanting to lie, he said, "It means a lot to me that you think that."

"I do. You're strong, capable, and one of my closest friends."

He really didn't feel like the first two things but maybe it'd be alright to let her believe it. Changing the topic, Jaskier said, "We meant to go get lunch but I'd rather stay here. I'm sorry. I really am. I know we both were looking forward to it. I just… can't. Sorry."

"It's not the lunch itself I was excited for but spending time with you. I'd be happy to stay here unless you'd rather rest, I'm perfectly fine with that too. We can just reschedule," Priscilla said sincerely.

She was truly being too understanding.

"I'm not sure how good company I'll be but I'd like to spend some more time with you." Time he'd actually be able to enjoy and be mentally present for.

He was awarded with a blinding smile.

"I'll just go grab us something to eat first and return right away," Priscilla said, heading to the door. "I'll be back before you know it!"

"Alright." There'd be no use protesting. Or time since Priscilla was out of the door almost before he finished.

Jaskier paced as he waited, relishing how he could feel the slight reverberation of his steps and hear the clicking of his heels. He really should have tried to drag himself out of dissociation the moment he had realized starting to feel off and removed from everything. Not even trying to help himself didn't accomplish anything but making him guilty and even more frustrated. It had been over two months since last time he had had an episode. He had been doing pretty good regarding that and now he had ruined it.

His ruminating was disrupted by knocking, the cadence same as last time. Being able to recognize the person from the sound alone was truly helpful, not leaving him time to worry. Maybe he should ask Essi to always knock in a specific pattern too.

This time Jaskier didn't hesitate letting Priscilla enter.

"Tadaa! I brought the lunch to us. My treat," Priscilla said, placing a tray full of food on the table Jaskier hastily cleared.

"You don't have to—"

"I won't hear any of that," Priscilla said playfully. "Having a belly full always makes the world look brighter."

"Thanks," Jaskier said, placing some chicken and vegetables on his plate. The churning in his stomach wasn't encouraging but trying to stomach something would still be better than skipping a meal altogether, especially since Priscilla had gone out of her way to bring it.

"Want to hear more about Kovir? I had a great time there," Priscilla asked.

"I'd love to," Jaskier said sincerely, grateful she didn't try to make him talk about what had upsetted him or mention his tiny portion.

"Do you have a spare map where you could mark the spots the victims were found at? I'd like to go take a look at them," Geralt requested after sergeant Luiz had given a rundown of the developments since last time they had seen. Which boiled down to nothing.

"I do." Luiz nodded, going to take it out of one of the drawers lining the wall behind his desk. "Do you think you'll find anything after such a long time?"

"I don't know," Geralt said honestly. "My senses are far better than humans' but you're right that it has been a while since the bodies were found."

"Worth the shot," Luiz said, handing Geralt the marked map showing all of Oxenfurt.

"Thanks," Geralt said, memorizing the locations before folding the map and placing it into the bag holding his potions.

"Remember to drop off that gold you found as soon as possible," Luiz said, rounding his table and heading to a filing cabinet across the room.

"I'll bring it tomorrow at the latest. I already let Szwed know that her late fiancé had secret savings she'd be able to pick up," Geralt said, appreciating the lack of accusation in Luiz's tone. It was refreshing. If things stayed as they were, he wouldn't mind working with the sergeant again.

"That's good." Luiz nodded. "Wealth isn't much of a condolence but better than nothing since we can't give the answers yet."

"Hmmm."

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, nothing." Geralt said, not wanting to mention The Red Games. He wasn't keen on letting Luiz know he'd be involved with an illegal fight ring. Especially since the sergeant had specified that he didn't care too much about how he approached the investigation as long as it was through legal means. He'd hedge the timing of his findings if needed once he knew more.

Bidding farewell Geralt headed out towards the spot Kamiński had been found, wanting to start with the oldest site. Checking the dead end alley was quick work, the hard rain only a day after the body had been found having destroyed everything just as he had expected.

Walk to the second site took less than half an hour.

The daily goings-ons and curious gawkers had scuffed the dirt road too much to find any useful tracks and the blood splatters on the crates and the stonewall were smudged and faded with an attempt to wash them away, just as he had been warned about. It was still obvious that the murder had happened there instead of the body having been dumped later and the angle of the sprayed blood matched the wounds, confirming that the attacker had been shorter than Nowakowski by several inches.

Stepping away from the crates, Geralt surveyed the area. It was far from a busy place and would likely be deserted by night but he couldn't help but be slightly surprised that no one had come forward about sighting a person covered in blood. It should be almost impossible for the killer not to have gotten drenched given the amount of wounds and the violent strength behind them.

Checking the map, Geralt noted that the Pontar river was only a few streets away. That could be where the murderer changed and cleaned up unless wherever they lived was easier to reach. After checking the nearest streets for any signs, he headed to the docks.

"Are you familiar with the river's currents?" Geralt asked a fisherman who was sitting in his docked boat working on a tangled net.

"Would say so. Why?"

"Could you estimate how far a body could have drifted downriver within a maximum of ten hours three days ago when it's thrown in in Oxenfurt?"

"A body?" the fisherman asked, startled.

"Hmmm."

"You're not planning on disposing of one, right?" the fisherman asked, narrowing his eyes clearly suspicious.

"No. I'm trying to figure out how far upstream one already found might have gotten into the river," Geralt said, wondering if he'd need to go talk to someone else.

"Three days ago…" the fisherman trailed off, stroking his beard. "The currents aren't too strong near the shore and if it tangles with something it'd slow down or stop completely. My guess is two miles at the farthest. Hard to say, there's a lot of factors."

"Thank you. That'll be helpful," Geralt said.

"Yeah, sure."

With that Geralt headed back to the site Sitora had been found and started to follow the shoreline, checking the banks and nearby secluded alleys and nooks in case the body had been only dumped in the river and killed elsewhere. He had made his slow walk upriver for about a mile when he finally found the murder site underneath a bridge.

The sand had been disturbed in a way that made Geralt guess that Sitora had been first pushed off the street, making him drop to the bank and from there dragged out of sight.

The site itself was gruesome, the bridge's stones painted with old blood and sand saturated.

Walking carefully around the bloody area, Geralt surveyed the way sand had been disturbed. It was clear Sitora had trashed around instead of being immediately killed. Perhaps the killer had something deeper against him, wanting to inflict pain. There also were footprints heading to the river and then towards the street. Not surprising that the killer had wanted to wash away the evidence of their activity.

Kneeling by the clearest print, he examined it closer; much smaller than his and the shoes seemed to be slightly high heeled.

A woman?

She'd have to be extremely strong to be able to overpower her victims in the manner needed for her killing method. Or perhaps she managed to first drug them. That'd make subduing much easier. River water had washed away all suspicious smells on Sitora and the other bodies had been old enough for a drug's scent to fade.

Although, it wasn't as if women were only ones to wear such shoes or size despite being more common. It did however prove without a doubt that he was looking for someone humanoid.

Geralt followed the prints heading back to the street, trying to find any diluted drops of blood that might have dripped from the killer despite their efforts to make themselves presentable. He managed to find them for long enough to determine that they had headed North to start with. Whether or not they had gone somewhere else after, he couldn't say.

Taking out the map and a pen that had seen better days, he marked the murder site on it and a tiny arrow pointing North. Drawing lines connecting all the spots he considered the area inside the triangle.

The Rolling Rook and Nowakowski's establishment fell within it.

Not surprising.

Whether or not there was something else interesting, he didn't know. Hopefully Jaskier would know the area well enough to point out any spots that might have significance.

Hopefully Jaskier had also had a peaceful time so he could have spent the day resting instead of pushing himself yet again. It'd be nice to return to him and see him in good spirits and lively. Calm at least. He'd be happy with that. Besides, it'd be doubtful that Jaskier would have enough energy to be lively even if he had taken it easy.

It was fucking frustrating that he couldn't stay with Jaskier the way he wanted. Neither of them had expected or prepared for him to spend almost all of his time chasing a murderer. The only positive was that Essi and Priscilla were also staying at The Rose and Song. He didn't want to even consider how badly Jaskier would be faring if he didn't have trusted people around to help him and spend time with.

It'd be great if Shani too would come see Jaskier again soon. Jaskier truly could use a professional healer's recommendations on how to manage his symptoms better. And how to get rid of the damn headaches he tried steadfastly to avoid mentioning.

Sighing, Geralt headed back to the barracks. The city guard would absolutely want to hear that he had found the murder site. Afterwards he'd return to the inn. To Jaskier.

Jaskier smiled as he listened to Priscilla tell him about a visit to a snow castle, one of Kovir's winter wonders. Apparently it was a large building made solely of ice and snow, decorated with sculptures just as icy. It sounded strange and magical.

"You could even spend a night there!" Priscilla said, eyes sparkling. "There were rooms for rent. I didn't sleep there since my escort wasn't keen on the idea but I really want to do it sometime in the future."

"Sounds absolutely amazing," Jaskier agreed. The sheer joy Priscilla was radiating as she shared her tales was even more amazing.

"It really, really was."

Jaskier was about to ask for more details when a knock on the door made him freeze.

"Jaskier, are you in?" Essi asked.

It was sweet how she seemed determined to keep checking in on him. Hopefully she wasn't letting it interfere with the things she had planned to do.

"With Priscilla," Jaskier called out, going to open the door.

"Hi, Jaskier," Essi said, shooting him a smile before hurrying to Priscilla. "Pris!"

"Essi!" Priscilla said, standing up and hugging her tightly. "It's been too long!"

"Come back South quicker next time then," Essi laughed, hugging her back just as enthusiastically. "I've missed you so much!"

"And I you, dear," Priscilla said, kissing Essi on the cheek.

Watching them was filling Jaskier with warmth. It was so good to see both of them so happy, so carefree. He had wished only the best for them whenever he had thought about them during the winter and finding out they truly had had a wonderful year was an immense relief.

"I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Essi asked, looking between Jaskier and Priscilla.

"Not at all. We had lunch and were catching up," Jaskier said.

"I missed all the gossip then," Essi sighed. "I hope you don't mind having to repeat everything to me at some point, Priscilla."

"Of course not. I'll even add something just for you," Priscilla said, winking.

"I look forward to it," Essi said, taking a step back and stumbling on the saddleback Jaskier had dropped in the middle of the room when he had staggered his way in. Looking down at what had almost tripped her, she asked, "What is that?"

"...A saddleback?" Jaskier offered, not exactly sure what she meant.

"No, this poor thing," Essi said, lifting the stained doublet that was more than half out of the bag.

"Oh."

There was nothing similar to Valdo's sneer on her face. He still couldn't help but brace for comments aimed to tear him down.

"I remember how excited you were when you got this outfit," Essi said, examining the doublet. "What happened?"

She really had been there when his tailor had finally finished it and the matching trousers. Had listened to him explaining in detail the cut's differences from the one he had been wearing and how the fabric needed different stitches. It felt strange, having been so excited about fashion. Now it was hard to get even half as excited as that about anything most of the time, let alone something so frivolous.

"I knocked over an inkwell and tried to keep the ink from pooling over the table," Jaskier said quietly, staring at the blue sleeves stained black.

"Oof, definitely looks like it." Essi grimaced. "Are you going to get it fixed?"

"I've thought about it but…"

"But?"

"I've barely been able to work so I don't think it's a good idea to spend on it. I can wear it as is when we're traveling in the wilderness," Jaskier said, looking away and starting to fidget with his beads.

"I could pay for it," Essi offered promptly.

"You could do with a completely new outfit too since your current ones don't really fit. I'd be happy to get one for you," Priscilla added.

Jaskier knew they meant well.

He still couldn't keep the cold feeling from washing over him. Having someone clothe him, even just by paying for it, was dangerous. It created strings, obligations that could be used against him. Used to make him do anything, anything at all. Marden sending him money for a courtly attire was what had started it all. Letting someone do it again was far too risky.

"Jaskier?"

Except… During the winter Eskel hadn't wanted anything in return when he had literally lent him the shirt off of his back. Hadn't expected to get anything after knitting him a thick woolen shirt among other things. Hadn't asked him to do anything after lending him a cloak.

Maybe it wasn't unsafe.

Maybe he wasn't suddenly unsafe.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" Priscilla asked, making Jaskier realize he had been staring at her unblinkingly and had forgotten to breathe.

"It's… nothing. Sorry," Jaskier said, lips numb.

"Don't even try that. We aren't blind," Essi said. "Are you close to a panic attack? Can we do something to help?"

"I'm okay," Jaskier said, focusing on the way air moved in his lungs as he took deep and slow breaths. "It's just… Back then… I was given new clothes. I know it's not the same. At all. I'm just easily taken off-guard. Lots of reminders. Sorry."

"Please don't apologize," Priscilla said.

"Besides, you shouldn't spend that much on me," Jaskier said, starting to feel steadier again. Being actually able to de-escalate before getting completely overwhelmed was a nice change of pace.

"It's my money and I can spend it in any way I want to," Essi stated, crossing her arms, almost a mirror image of Geralt from last summer.

"Jaskier, I was at a court the whole winter. I currently have almost more than I know what to do with. Please let me help in a way I actually can," Priscilla said.

"You already help just by existing," Jaskier said sincerely. Shaking his head, he added, "I don't even know my size anymore and can't have a tailor take measurements so getting fitting clothes is a moot point in any case."

"If I borrow a measurement tape from your tailor, you could take them yourself," Priscilla suggested. "It might irk his professional pride a bit but having the outfit fit you like a glove isn't actually necessary."

That was true.

"Would it make you feel better about accepting my offer if I decided that it's only for clothes that need altering, not for ones made from scratch?"

It did make it easier to consider.

"Jaskier, I really want to do this for you. No strings or obligations attached," Priscilla said softly. "You've helped me so many times over the years. Allow me to do the same."

If it were Priscilla or Essi, he'd give the same offer in a heartbeat. Would be grateful for a concrete way to help, would mean it with every fiber of his body and soul. He should let them have the same relief, shouldn't he?

Wrestling down the certainty that he wasn't worth it, Jaskier said, "...Alright. Thank you, truly. You didn't have to."

He was rewarded by smiles shining brighter than the sun outside.

"When do you want to go to the tailor?" Essi asked.

"Are you free tomorrow? I have a meeting with dean Ignazy at noon and it shouldn't take even half an hour. If you have nothing else, we could see at the academy's gate? But only if it's alright with you. Please, please don't feel like you have to agree to that time."

He didn't want to have to ask Geralt to take even more time out of his investigation but a short detour should be fine. Maybe. And if the timing didn't suit any of the others, he'd figure something out. Like not going at all or pushing it after the murderer was caught. He refused to be a bigger inconvenience than he already was.

"Works for me." Essi nodded.

"I'm fine with it too," Priscilla agreed. "I'll go get the measurement tape today so you'll have plenty of time to get those numbers. Also, I'm not going to let you grab the cheapest clothes. You're going to get something you love and that's final."

The way Priscilla looked at him made it abundantly clear that she was well aware that had been his plan.

"Good. Jaskier deserves something nice," Essi said, grabbing a piece of leftover carrot from lunch.

"I don't," Jaskier said, not managing to hold it in.

"Yes you do," came the expected replies.

"Did you want something, Essi?" Jaskier asked to change the topic.

"Want?"

"You didn't tell why you came here."

"Oh! No, not really. Just your company," Essi said, finishing the carrot and picking up another. "But since Priscilla is here too, I'd love to hear about what it was like in Kovir."

"I won't mind a repeat," Jaskier said, gesturing to Essi and Priscilla to take the chairs.

For a moment he hovered awkwardly before going to sit on the bed. He was sincerely grateful that neither of them were Witchers and couldn't hear how his heart kicked up a notch when the mattress slightly sank under him. He was yet again being silly, getting nervous about his seating place. Tugging on his beads Jaskier focused on his dearest friends, doing his best to shut out everything else than the joy and excitement starting to fill the room as Priscilla got back into storytelling.

Chapter Text

"Geralt!" Jaskier greeted, putting down the book Essi had lent him. "Did everything go well?"

"Found the newest murder site," Geralt said, taking his gear off.

"Oh, that's big."

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed. Studying Jaskier, he asked, "How did your day go?"

"I took another look at the ledger to see if I'd spot something of interest I overlooked while translating," Jaskier said, getting up from the bed he had been resting in and grabbing the pile of papers from the nightstand. Thumbing to the correct page, he showed it to Geralt, "Now, I can't be certain if it's the same man, but I did spot a Pawel in the list of past participants. From how you described that bouncer, I wouldn't be surprised if it's him."

"He definitely seems the type to enjoy an illegal fight ring," Geralt agreed, glancing at the page before refocusing on Jaskier. "You didn't really answer my question, though."

Jaskier closed his eyes and sighed tiredly. Of course Geralt wouldn't let it be brushed off. Not that he could fault him.

"I spent most of the day with Priscilla and Essi. Got most of the storage sorted out too before Valdo decided to be a nuisance," Jaskier said, placing the sheets on the table to be able to fidget with his beads. Not being able to curb the nervous tick was irritating. Geralt would absolutely focus on it.

"What did he do?" Geralt asked, tone darkening as expected.

"Was an ass like always." It was nothing new. He just hadn't been able to snap right back at him like before. He didn't want to be so affected by Valdo. Hated that he had any sort of hold over him. Getting so worked up because of a fucking mistake of an ex was aggravating. It'd be so much easier if it was like with Priscilla, relationship only having made them closer to each other. It had been easy, comfortable and loving despite never getting as serious. Being around her was still those things, just different in flavor.

Valdo… Valdo however could crawl into a gutter and never emerge again and he'd be perfectly content with it.

"Anything I can do?" Geralt asked, still staring at Jaskier intensely.

Asking Geralt to punch the conceited smile off Valdo's face was far more tempting than it should.

"Hug me?" Jaskier requested instead.

"Of course," Geralt said, stepping closer and opening his arms.

Embracing tightly, Jaskier rested his forehead on Geralt's shoulder and tried to draw strength from him. He was so fucking tired. No matter how he tried to convince both of them, being in Oxenfurt was draining especially without Geralt by his side. He did have Essi and now Priscilla too but it wasn't the same. At least things were going a lot better than last visit. He wasn't about to fully crash any minute despite the way he kept having smaller ones. It was still bearable. He could still function without too much trouble most of the time, could be useful instead of dead weight.

He was doing much better no matter how he kept feeling. He just needed to focus on seeing things objectively.

"I love you. Miss you," Jaskier whispered, trying to get even closer. He craved the comfort and safety. Craved just being around Geralt, sharing their lives in the small simple ways they had fallen into.

"Love you too," Geralt said, matching his volume.

It was wonderful how easily Geralt could say the words now. No cursing or sounding like he was dragging them from somewhere deep and tightly guarded. There was so much more openness, so much more trust that it was safe to share his feelings.

And it was learned for his sake.

"I love you. So much," Jaskier repeated.

"Hmmm."

Hesitating for a moment, Jaskier said, "About the confrontation with Valdo… I did dissociate a bit afterwards. Priscilla helped me out of it."

He didn't want to worry Geralt but openness should be reciprocated in kind. And Geralt really did need to know it.

"That's not good," Geralt said, stilling completely. "How are you feeling now? Still detached?"

"Frustrated about not being able to keep myself together but otherwise well enough and back in my body," Jaskier said, not lifting his head. He didn't want to see the worried lines on Geralt's face. He was far too familiar with the sight as was.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," Geralt said, a hint of doubt in his voice. "Anything I can do?"

"Do you have time to lie down for a moment?" Jaskier asked, sure he was taking precious time away from the investigation. He just was too selfish not to ask for comfort. Too weak not to place the burning need to have Geralt close above actually important things.

He should take the request back.

He'd be just fine with Geralt leaving to do his job despite the hollow ache in his chest.

"I do," Geralt said, letting go and heading to the bed.

A couple deep breaths to shove down the guilt and Jaskier followed suit. He couldn't help but practically melt as he cuddled Geralt, ear pressed against the slow beating heart and Geralt drawing nonsensical figures on his shoulder blade.

It had been only four days since arriving but it felt like eternity. It just had been so tumultuous, all his problems rearing their head in a worse way than in a good while. He had prepared for things getting more difficult but not for going over what had happened with Marden three times and barely seeing Geralt. They had had a plan for how to make things easier for him to handle and practically all of it had been thrown out of the window the moment Geralt got the contract.

Change was still so damn stressful.

"I'm glad you're here," Jaskier said, focusing on the steady heartbeat. It was calming in its familiarity.

"Glad to be here," Geralt said. "I'd prefer to be with you more. Are you really doing okay?"

"Well enough like I said. Aftermaths are much easier to recover from nowadays so it's not too bad. And I'm definitely not planning on sharing what happened with anyone else so that's a huge trigger you don't have to worry about," Jaskier said.

"You're exhausted regardless, aren't you," Geralt said, voice too flat to consider it a question.

"Could be much worse." Jaskier shrugged, accidentally elbowing Geralt.

"That's not the same as okay."

"Geralt, there's nothing to be done about the situation before the killer is brought to justice so please stop fretting. There's nothing to gain from it. I'll get through this and afterwards we can just spend some extra time together to catch up," Jaskier said, relatively sure he'd be annoyingly clingy once Geralt was free to indulge him. Not that it'd be much of a hardship for Geralt at first. He was a much bigger cuddler than expected. Maybe he was trying to balance the lack of physical comfort from most of his life.

With that thought Jaskier squeezed Geralt before loosening his hold enough to shift to meet Geralt's eyes. "Would you like a kiss?"

Geralt studied his expression for a moment before nodding. "Yes."

Kissing Geralt's forehead made him smile which was always such a beautiful sight. Littering small kisses all over Geralt's face after a quick check only made the smile widen.

"On the lips?" Jaskier asked.

"Yes."

"Thank you."

It was hard to kiss as they both kept smiling. With a small laugh and shake of his head Jaskier tried again, finally able to properly catch Geralt's lips. It was unhurried and light, filled with adoration. Just love and contentment of being together. It was a shame they couldn't stay as they were for the rest of time. It'd be preferable to having to let go of each other.

Sadly that was exactly what they needed to do.

"Let's get food before your performance," Geralt said, getting up and leaving Jaskier feeling cold from the sudden lack of body heat.

"You really could try to be more romantic. It's quite rude to just walk away after kissing," Jaskier said, following suit and grabbing his lute.

"Never claimed to be a romantic," Geralt said.

"Hmph."

"Want one more kiss?"

"Yes please," Jaskier said eagerly, hurrying to face Geralt.

It was just as sweet as the previous ones. Its warmth almost made up for not resting against Geralt's chest. Almost.

The dinner crowd downstairs made Jaskier's anxiety spike as they joined it but it didn't feel like a vice was constricting his chest. It was fine, he was fine. Being uncomfortable was far too common to pay much mind. Valdo not having ruined his day completely was far more important. It felt like a win. A small accomplishment and a proof that he wasn't that pathetic no matter how he had felt while crying over the stupid small confrontation. Valdo just always had had a talent for aiming right where it hurt the worst. And trying to get him open up about the fucking feast that was so freshly in his mind from all the explaining and reminding of his less than stellar love life before Geralt hit the mark perfectly.

If only he could have returned the barbed words in kind.

Maybe next time he'd be better prepared.

"May I join you?" Suzanna asked quietly, startling Jaskier. "If you don't mind, I'd rather not eat alone."

"Oh. Umm, sure," Jaskier said, hoping the slight disappointment of not getting to enjoy Geralt's company alone didn't show. He really didn't want to turn Suzanna away. Going through the pain she had was almost unimaginable, the least he could do was offer some company. Not to mention she appeared even more haggard than before in her rumpled dress, looking like she had freshly wept and her brown hair trying to escape from its braid. It'd be bordering on cruel to turn her away.

"Thank you."

"Did your shift last long after I left?" Geralt asked.

"A couple of hours," Suzanna said, sipping her drink. "I didn't notice anything strange going on, although Lis did make an appearance. She had a long talk with Pawel in her office but it's impossible to hear anything."

"She continues to be a lot more involved with the going ons then," Geralt said.

"I've never seen her visit so often." Suzanna nodded.

"Antoni mentioned that a croupier named Renata tends to take care of things during the daytime. Do you know if she'll be there tomorrow?" Geralt asked.

Jaskier wasn't sure what Suzanna's face did at the mention of Antoni but the expression did settle on vague disdain before smoothing out. "I think so. She has very predictable shifts."

"Thanks."

"I saw you earlier today, Jaskier. Did you have a meeting with Valdo?" Suzanna asked, focusing on him.

"...Of a sort, I guess," Jaskier said, tapping his fork against the plate.

"Did it go well? You seemed a bit dazed when you returned upstairs." Suzanna frowned.

"It was fine."

"Alright," Suzanna said, continuing to study Jaskier. "Still, are you sure? You two have a… tumultuous relationship."

That was one way to sum it up.

"Yes."

Focusing on his dinner was preferable to her asking more about what happened with Valdo. Geralt too would be happy with that option.

This time getting into Nowakowski's gambling establishment was a simple thing, bouncer clearly waiting for him. Passing him Geralt headed to the stairs leading down another armed man was guarding

"You're the Witcher then?" the man asked, looking Geralt up and down before stepping aside. "Demian mentioned that you'd join us. You can find him downstairs, should be easy to spot him. The crowd hasn't arrived yet."

Geralt nodded in acknowledgment and started descending, curious about what he'd find. Fight rings did tend to be similar to each other but the space felt tiny for such an activity if the cellar was the same size as the building itself.

It wasn't.

The space had to encompass at least three nearest ones, possibly more. It made Geralt want to go take another look at the deeds that had been found to see if Nowakowski actually owned them too. Or perhaps the owners of the properties were also involved in this. It felt more likely than them being blissfully unaware of what went on literally right under their noses.

"Geralt, I see you made it with plenty of time to spare," Demian said, walking up to him.

"Wanted to be early since it's my first time." Geralt shrugged.

"Good. Wouldn't want our visiting star to be late. You haven't been here before so I'll walk you through everything. As you see, the space for the audience is separated from the ring by ropes," Demian said, gesturing to Geralt to follow him. Pointing at another sectioned off area where several people were milling he continued, "Contenders wait over there for their turn. There's also some bandage rolls and such to use if needed on that shelf. Someone slowly bleeding out isn't what people are paying to see."

That didn't sound promising despite perfectly aligning with his guess of what the games were about.

"We have a roster for pairings, although after the first round it'll be the winners advancing and fighting each other. Anything goes when in the ring but outside of it fighting isn't allowed. If people want to get revenge, it better happen off the premises. The only thing you'll have to change is to take off your armor."

"Hmmm." Geralt nodded, watching his fellow fighters. So far he didn't spot a familiar face but he had arrived earlier than necessary. There'd surely be more coming later.

"And over here are our highly regarded patrons," Demian said, stopping by the only benches available for the audience. A small group of well dressed people Geralt had briefly noted were watching him with expressions varying from interest to disgust.

Except for one.

"I thought you didn't know anything about bloodsports," Geralt said as Joanna Lis met his eyes.

"Oh, but I don't. There's more than two dozen people who can attest that I'm currently on the other side of Oxenfurt at a quite lavish party," Lis said, smiling serenely. "Who would believe a lone Witcher trying to slander a well-liked and proper upper class lady?"

"Right."

"You two have met?" Demian asked.

"We're acquainted. Geralt here has started to visit my own establishment," Lis said, still holding eye contact with Geralt. "I'm highly interested in seeing him in action."

"I'm sure he'll put on a great show for us," Demian agreed.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, wanting to take a closer look at the other patrons yet loath to be the one to look away first. Thankfully Lis focused on an unknown man who stepped forward, Geralt following suit.

"That's the Witcher you advertised?" the man asked Demian.

"I am," Geralt said, taking in his neat and relatively new looking clothing that suggested him to be of middle class. Dark hair and short beard too were well-groomed. He didn't however look familiar at all. Using the brief distraction Geralt quickly glanced at Lis' feet but her dress fully concealed them. A pity. It'd have been useful to see if there was a chance that she had left the footprints at the murder site.

"You better shine in the ring, I bet a sizable sum on you. Thankfully you do look like you know what you're doing," the man chuckled. "Dear Joanna too did so despite her man competing. She was actually the first to do so and since she's got a great knack for odds I followed suit this time."

"He's not my man, simply a business partner," Joanna said.

"Whatever he is to you, he seems to just have arrived," the man said, pointing at the entrance.

Geralt couldn't muster an ounce of surprise when he turned around and spotted Pawel heading towards the other contestants.

"Does he take part often?" Geralt asked.

"Most times." Demian nodded.

Pawel's talk might not be only hot air then. Someone who managed to keep himself from getting permanently injured despite continuously taking part in fights where anything was allowed couldn't be bad at it.

"It's about the time you join the other fighters. The audience will arrive soon," Demian said, walking Geralt down to the waiting area.

Trying to ignore Pawel's hostile glare burning into his back, Geralt observed the patrons. Majority of them were men with a few women mixed in but all aside from Lis were unfamiliar to him. Deciding he wouldn't glean anything useful from them, Geralt turned around to size up his opponents; They too had a similar divide of genders and everyone was well armed as expected. Almost everyone also carried themselves with ease belying confidence, only a few nervous ones sticking out. Most likely first timers like him except definitely not as experienced. Granted, it wasn't a particularly useful measurement, everything considered. Interestingly there was one face aside from Pawel that felt familiar. The man in question quickly averted his eyes as Geralt stared at him, trying to remember where he had seen him.

The barracks. It was one of the guards he had seen a couple of times during his visits to the sergeant. Most likely he wasn't undercover, just a bit too interested in spilling blood, but it'd be made clear next time he'd meet up with Luiz. There was no question about whether or not he'd be confronted if his actions were made known.

"Afraid to fight without that armor of yours?" Pawel asked, shouldering his way to Geralt and lifting his chin defiantly.

"No. I just hadn't gotten to taking it off yet," Geralt said calmly, unbuckling his sword belt so he could start doing so.

"Hah! I bet you would have tried to circumvent the rules if not confronted. That's what Witchers are like, fucking cheats and full of fake mysticism to take advantage of people," Pawel said loudly.

Pawel's attendance wasn't a surprise but him knowing words like 'circumvent' and 'mysticism' was mildly so. Geralt couldn't be bothered to jab back, just finished taking his armor off and placing it in a spot that was out of the way yet easy to keep an eye on. He wouldn't be shocked if someone tried to steal it.

"I hope I'll get to cut you down," Pawel sneered. "Wipe that arrogance off your face."

"I doubt you could beat me even if I had my hands bound behind my back and was wearing a blindfold," Geralt said, studying the audience that had started to appear.

"Fucking look at me when I'm talking!" Pawel snapped, making Geralt glance at him. "You try to stir up trouble at The Rook and now you show your ugly mug here. What the fuck are you up to?"

"Nothing," Geralt said, ignoring the way Pawel seethed. Perhaps riling him up wasn't the wisest move but he had better things to do than indulge his posturing. If Pawel wanted a go at it, he'd get one in the ring as long as he actually managed to keep winning.

"The hell you are!"

The crowd was starting to fill all of the space allotted to them. The cellar was full of chatter, voices echoing unpleasantly and already far too loud for comfort. Not that there was anything to be done aside from ignoring as much of the background noise as he could. Hopefully the cheering wouldn't reach deafening once the fighting started.

"What about you? Are you here at the behest of Lis?" Geralt asked.

"What?"

"Are you here for Lis' sake? She usually bets on you, doesn't she?" Geralt repeated, taking a look at Pawel's shoes despite knowing the size was far too big to match the prints in the sand.

"Always. I don't fucking lose," Pawel said, pointedly moving his hand to the sword hanging from his belt. "I know how to get the job done."

Ah. He didn't know Lis had changed her bet.

Before Geralt had time to say anything else, Demian stepped in the middle of the fighting ring. Silence fell as he lifted his hands and spoke loudly, "Welcome to tonight's Red Games! I hope you all have gotten yourself all the drinks your heart desires and taken the chance on Lady Luck by betting on your favorites. Tonight we have twelve fighters, all skilled and out for blood!"

The cheering erupting from the crowd was just as loud as Geralt had expected. Hiding a wince as his ears rang, he kept his attention on Demian.

"As usual, the pairings too have been decided by luck, only the previous champion getting the advantage of having to fight one less round in their pursuit of being crowned again!" Demian said, doing a sweeping gesture that ended up pointing at Pawel who lifted a fist. The second round of cheers managed to be even louder, whistles and stomping joining the shouts.

"Told you I always win," Pawel said so smugly it made Geralt want to wipe the expression off his face in turn.

"Tonight we also have quite the rarity among the contestants. A Witcher, The Butcher of Blaviken himself!"

The murmurs and far less cheering was a welcome reprieve. As was the volume not reaching another crescendo while Demian introduced the rest of the fighters, none of the names familiar.

The first fight was between two newcomers, both decently skilled. It didn't take long for one of them to forfeit after getting sliced on his right arm. Their retreat from the ring was accompanied by shouts, some pleased and most disappointed. The next two fights took a little longer, contestants more skilled.

Once Geralt's moniker was called he entered the ring, noting the blood splatters both new and old staining the stone floor. His opponent faced him and lifted his sword, starting to slowly circle Geralt once Demian gave the go-ahead. Waiting for his combatant to make the first move, Geralt matched his speed and observed his footwork; nimble and much better than most of the previous ones had. It seemed unlikely that the pairings had actually been blindly determined. They matched far too well with what would be the most entertaining to watch.

It still was quick work to make his opponent fall to the ground and yield, sword lightly resting against his throat.

"The Butcher of Blaviken wins!" Demian exclaimed as the crowd cheered a bit louder than last time Geralt's name had been called. "We'll see his skills again during the second round."

"Fucking bullshit, placing me against a Witcher," the defeated man grumbled and spat on the ground. "Should be against the rules."

"I thought there weren't any rules," Geralt said, passing him.

"Fuck you doubly!"

Ignoring the rest of the cursing, Geralt watched as the vaguely familiar guard fought against one of the women, barely winning.

Only Pawel against one of the newcomers left. He already knew it'd end badly.

The audience made their excitement known far too loudly as Pawel strutted to the middle of the ring, clearly basking in the attention. Swinging his sword a couple of times he waited for his opponent to join him.

The borderline panicked expression on the newcomer's face told he too had realized that he had been selected for a bloody display instead of an actual fight. The moment Demian started the fight, he opened his mouth clearly planning on immediately forfeiting. He didn't have time to do more than yelp and scramble backwards as Pawel charged, striking where his chest had been.

Geralt couldn't help but grimace as the man kept barely parrying most of Pawel's attacks, each movement stiffer. It wasn't skill keeping him alive. Pawel was toying with him, putting on both a show and relishing in the situation.

After a few more attacks that left shallow wounds Pawel grinned and got behind the man, slicing his back open.

The crowd went mad, screaming their enjoyment loud enough Geralt was surprised everyone within five miles couldn't hear it. Two workers quickly entered the ring and dragged the heavily bleeding man off to the side where a third started inspecting his wound.

"Our current champion Pawel wins again! What a show of skill and ruthlessness!" Demian shouted once the noise level let him be heard. "With that we'll move to the second round. Give an applause for all who made it through!"

The newcomer seemed to be still alive since the workers were trying to stop the bleeding by the nearby shelf holding healing supplies. Whether or not he'd make it was another question. The stench of blood was rich in the air, starting to overpower everything else.

"We start off with our fair ladies, Lucya and one of our old favorites, Militsa. Let's hope for a catfight to remember!" Demian introduced the fighters who both gave him a scathing glare.

Geralt refocused on the fight, trying to discern which one he'd be fighting next round. Both of them were much better than their previous opponents, their attacks fast and parries precise. No obvious openings either. If there wasn't a very real chance of death at any second, watching them fight at such a high technical skill level would have been actually enjoyable.

It didn't take much longer for Militsa to gain the upper hand and the crowd to start chanting her name. Lucya jumped back and lifted her hands as she forfeited after getting her side grazed.

"Militsa continues to the penultimate round! Next we'll find out who gets to face her," Demian said, gesturing to Geralt and the guard to take the women's place.

"Don't tell the sergeant," the guard whispered, eyes wide.

"Hmmm," Geralt hummed, wanting to end things quickly.

The moment the bout started Geralt moved, aiming at the guard's sword arm. His swing was firmly parried, showing the surprising amount of strength the guard had. Trying to simply overwhelm him with heavy blows would take too long for the situation. Changing tactics, Geralt swiftly stepped to the left and slashed at his side, landing a solid hit with the flat of his blade to the crowd's loud disappointment. Ignoring the indignant shouts over how no blood was spilt, Geralt avoided a sloppy swing as the guard tried to catch his breath.

Quickly moving inside the guard's reach, Geralt adjusted the grip on his sword and drove the pommel against his nose, breaking it with an audible crunch. The guard shouted in pain and dropped his sword in a clear sign of giving up.

"Stop taking part in bloodsports," Geralt said, voice low and menacing as the guard took pained breaths through his mouth and cradled his bleeding face. "You're supposed to uphold the fucking law, not kill people for entertainment."

The answering mumble was too muffled to make sense of.

"The Butcher of Blaviken wins again despite not living up to his name!" Demian stated, staring at Geralt clearly annoyed. "As Pawel gets to defend his place as the champion, the next fight decides which will be his final opponent. Welcome Militsa back into the ring and don't let her pretty face fool you, she at least is thirsty for both blood and glory!"

"Continue being a dick and it'll be your blood," Militsa said under her breath and gave Demian another dark glare, taking her place.

She moved almost before the fight was declared started, not letting Geralt take the advantage. She was fast and quick-witted, avoiding falling into a predictable pattern with her attacks even as Geralt parried them all. Teeth gritted and eyes sharp she lunged forward almost recklessly, managing to nick Geralt's right thigh even as she avoided his sword so barely her brown shoulder length hair brushed against it.

Taking a few steps back to leave some space between them Geralt studied Militsa, struck by a strange sense of familiarity.

Something about the way she fought with single-minded focus and skill, the way her hair flew behind her as she moved, her red shirt—

Fuck.

Renfri.

She looked like Renfri. Fought like she had.

Militsa immediately closed the distance again, forcing Geralt to hastily block her swing as his distraction almost cost him his neck.

Delivering a swift riposte to the next attack, Geralt forced her into defence. A few seconds later he hit her flank with the flat of the blade, hoping showing he could have killed her would be enough.

Maybe she'd take the offered way out. Maybe it wouldn't have to end the same as all those decades ago. Maybe.

She didn't yield.

All she did was wheeze and retreat just enough to have space to mount another attack, bearing down on Geralt and taking more risks. Turning a killing blow into a warning had only made her bolder, reading his unwillingness to maim correctly. A sharp kick to her stomach didn't deter her either.

The audience was loving the longest fight so far, shouting and whistling loudly enough to make Geralt's ears ring.

Militsa dashed to the side, managing to slice a thin line on Geralt's arm.

He couldn't keep holding back against an opponent with resolve to kill.

Steeling himself, Geralt breathed out and riposted again. Using his superior strength Geralt gave heavy yet relatively easy to parry swings, knowing the reverberations would start numbing her hands. A plan Militsa seemed to catch on quickly as she narrowed her eyes and suddenly ran backwards to create more space between them. Without even stopping she drew a knife from her belt and threw it, forcing Geralt to duck. The moment he straightened up Militsa was already on him again.

Geralt shoved her sword aside after a feint and pirouetted behind her, slicing the back of her left ankle.

Militsa screamed in pain, falling to the ground as her heel cord was cut. Rolling over enough to see Geralt, she yelled, "You fucking bastard! Do you know what you fucking did?!"

"Yes, and it's better than being dead," Geralt said, feeling strangely hollow as he watched her futilely trying to stand up.

"Fuck you!" Militsa cursed, eyes watering as two bloodstained workers helped her up and off the ring.

"There it is! There's The Butcher of Blaviken we've been waiting for! What an unexpectedly cruel decision, to humiliate your opponent by permanently taking away their sword skills and ability to move around normally instead of offering the mercy of oblivion!" Demian exclaimed, smiling widely. "That's what we pay to see, am I right? And what an exciting fight for the crown we're about to see!"

"So you can actually use that sword," Pawel said, stepping right into the congealing blood trail his opponent had left as he joined Geralt in the ring. "Started to think it was just for show."

Watching Pawel leave bloody footprints, Geralt stayed silent.

"You think you're too good to even acknowledge me, huh?"

"Good enough to have Lis bet on me," Geralt said.

"The fuck?" Pawel asked, stopping his pacing.

"She bet on me winning," Geralt repeated.

"You're lying," Pawel hissed, whipping to look at where Lis was sitting with the other patrons. She watched them with keen eyes and calm expression, giving no indication of whether or not she could hear them over the general noise. "She always bets on me, always. I win, she wins."

"Not this time."

Pawel unsheathed his sword, clearly ready to attack despite the match not having officially started.

"Time for the last round of the night!" Demian hastily announced, making Pawel halt. "Pawel, our champion, has never once been beaten since he showed up. But against a Witcher, a Butcher? Will his skill and luck hold out? Let's have a fight of a lifetime!"

Pawel charged forward with impressive speed. His attacks too were faster than Militsa's, each powerful and without an ounce of hesitation. No toying, no testing, just looking for a chance to deliver the killing blow. This wasn't a show, it was a battle. Offering anything else in return would be impossible, not that Geralt was inclined to give him the same grace as his previous combatants.

It was no surprise Pawel had kept his title for all this time.

Pawel riposted the next attack, almost managing to slash at Geralt's stomach. Using the momentum, he continued delivering swift attacks that kept Geralt on the defensive. The snarl on Pawel's lips was turning into a wide smile the longer Geralt kept from launching a counterattack.

A single slightly too wide swing and Geralt struck, scoring a cut on Pawel's chest. He knew the exact amount of strength he had used, knew the feeling of flesh rending open.

This didn't match.

Hurriedly retreating, Geralt stared at Pawel, watching him lightly touch where his shirt was cut open and chuckle.

Geralt threw his weapon to the side and drew his silver sword instead, earning a toothy grin.

"What are you?" Geralt asked, as Pawel twirled his sword.

"Stay alive and you might find out," Pawel said, attacking again and moving even faster. The sheer speed would have overwhelmed a normal person, each attack, feint, and parry blending together.

Geralt matched them all, trying to determine what he was fighting; Something humanoid, mostly likely a shapeshifter. Perhaps a cursed one. Or a higher vampire. Thankfully almost definitely not a true one considering how exceedingly rare they were, no Witcher having even seen one in more than two centuries from what he had heard. Bruxa and an alp were out of question since Pawel was far from a beautiful woman. Mula didn't match either as he had all his bones.

A katakan then.

That fit the best.

"You're a katakan," Geralt stated, Pawel barely avoiding a thrust aimed at his middle.

The displeasure on Pawel's face told that he had been correct.

"Oh, fuck you," Pawel said, jumping unnaturally far backwards and letting go of his sword. In the next second he transformed, the audience's screams of joy turning into ones of terror.

Where a human had stood was a large monster resembling a misshapen grey wingless bat with horns and large ears. Dark fur covered its front and neck, creating an illusion of a beard while its most striking feature were its long limbs ending in similarly long claws.

It made Geralt wish for a vial of Black Blood potion and vampire oil to coat his sword with. Katakans were no easy foe.

"Told you I'd wipe that arrogance off your face," Pawel laughed, voice reverberating. "Unprepared Witcher is an easy kill."

"Clearly you've never fought one," Geralt said. The moment Pawel moved in the range he formed Igni and created a burst of flames that made Pawel screech and back up again.

Only to turn invisible.

Trying to follow the faint shadow Pawel cast was difficult with the way the cellar was illuminated by torches, fire light fluctuating with air currents. Too slow to block all of the attack, claws shallowly cut Geralt's back. As Geralt more felt than heard Pawel circle him, he cast Quen that blocked the next swipe, letting him launch a quick counterattack that met its mark on Pawel's shoulder and forced him visible again.

Teeth snapped only inches from Geralt's sword arm as he pirouetted away while forming another Igni, managing to singe Pawel's fur and burn skin.

With a frustrated growl Pawel turned invisible again, making Geralt lose track of him as the shadows kept swaying.

His Quen shattering from claws and long fangs sinking into his shoulder told him far too well where Pawel had appeared. The feeling of his blood being greedily sucked was disconcerting and rapidly making him lose strength. It did however let him sink his sword deep into Pawel's side, him being either too distracted by the taste of blood or too confident Geralt wouldn't have time to act.

With an earsplitting scream Pawel let go and stumbled backwards.

Ignoring the numb weakness in his limbs Geralt quickly charged after Pawel, not allowing him time to regenerate as he drove his sword through Pawel's head.

Panting, Geralt yanked his sword out and stayed ready to repeat the move at the first sign of the wounds starting to knit back together. They didn't. Pawel kept lying still, the whole cellar silent as a grave.

"...Well. That was a fight of a lifetime," Demian said, voice trembling and peeking from where he was crouched behind an overturned bench.

Looking around Geralt realized most of the people had fled during the fight, those who stayed cowering by the walls and behind the few furniture there were.

Except for Lis who was standing tall next to Demian.

"You knew about him," Geralt said, meeting her eyes.

"I didn't. He always took care of the bodies, making them disappear but it's not like I asked what he did with them and definitely didn't ask if he ate them," Demian said, rattled.

"Not you."

"I knew he was exceptional," Lis said.

"Yet you bet on me winning. Did you tire of him?"

"No. I simply knew what the outcome would be. He refused not to fight tonight," Lis sighed. "You have too great of a reputation not to trust that you know how to fight and win."

Geralt hummed, not feeling up to a longer conversation. He'd go talk to her once he had had time to rest. Focusing on not showing any weakness, Geralt sheathed his silver sword and retrieved the steel one before going to where the healing supplies were, most thankfully clean despite the shelf having toppled.

"Ah. Um. There's usually more pomp than this but… here," Demian said, bringing Geralt a heavy pouch holding his winnings. Looking around and rubbing his shaking hands together he continued, "I suppose we'll settle the bets afterwards. What should we do with …Pawel…?"

"Let me finish and I'll harvest him. After that you can do whatever you want with the corpse. Burning is one option," Geralt said, tending to his shoulder.

"Harve— No. Actually, I don't want to know." Demian shook his head. "I have better things to do."

Geralt simply hummed again, tying the bandage. It'd suffice until he got back to the inn and his better tools.

…Jaskier would be less than thrilled to see him needing them.

Jaskier paced around the room, unable to stay still for more than a few minutes at a time as he waited for Geralt to return. The midnight was long gone, making his heart heavier with each passing hour. Tugging at his beads Jaskier tried to shut out the gruesome images of all that could go wrong. He needed to trust that Geralt was fine, that he'd arrive soon and all his worrying had been all for naught.

One more lap and he could hear the faint sound of a key being used. The door opened silently, Geralt stepping in carrying a sack and a large pouch.

"Geralt!" Jaskier exclaimed quietly, hurrying to him. "Are you alright? Hurt? How did it go? What's up with the sack?"

"There's a katakan head and remains in it," Geralt said, placing the sack next to the door.

"What?" Jaskier asked, sure he had heard wrong.

"Katakan remains."

"What the fuck?" Jaskier asked with feeling before his heart dropped and anxiety surged even higher as he fully comprehended the words. Katakans were deadly. Geralt hadn't had his oils and potions. He couldn't have walked away unhurt. Jaskier uselessly fluttered his hands over Geralt's torso, unable to touch but wanting to see under the armor concealing all the probable wounds.

Except for a slice on Geralt's left arm and another on right thigh.

"You're hurt," Jaskier said, throat constricting. He had known, known it'd happen.

"I'm fine," Geralt said, gingerly taking off his sword belt and starting on the armor.

"Don't. I don't have the strength or the patience for this song and dance," Jaskier said, swallowing the lump in his throat and fetching the saddleback holding all the healing supplies.

"Fine," Geralt sighed. "I need to take my shirt off. Is that alright?"

"Of course." Sweet, sweet Geralt. Even now checking he'd be comfortable. "Tell me what happened."

"Pawel turned out to be a katakan. The final fight was against him. It didn't last particularly long but he did manage to get some hits in before I could kill him," Geralt said, throwing his shirt to the side and revealing multiple bandages wrapped around him. "My previous opponent managed to scratch me twice."

Jaskier took a shuddering breath, doing his best to focus on the fact that Geralt was safely with him again. Not dead. Not dying either from the way he was talking and moving around.

"Let me help," Jaskier said, laying the supplies on the table.

"Could you take care of stitching?" Geralt asked hesitantly. "I can do it myself but the shoulder is always an awkward placement."

"I think I can manage that," Jaskier said after a small pause. It'd require quite a lot of skin contact but the thought didn't make his heart race even faster and he sincerely wanted to do something to make the aftermath easier for Geralt. If it was stitching the wounds closed, then so be it.

Jaskier examined the bite mark after lighting all the candles they had, displeased with the way the deeper punctures started sluggishly bleeding once the bandage was removed.

"Geralt, could I put your hair in a ponytail? It'd keep it out of the way."

"Go for it."

"Thanks," Jaskier said, swiftly doing so. Giving a warning, he poured disinfectant into the wounds and dabbed the excess away. One more check and Jaskier started carefully stitching the deepest wound, thankful he had a good angle for once as Geralt sat in a chair. "Tell me about the games. How were they organized?"

Listening to Geralt's succinct overview of the night was easing something dark and tight in his chest. He could hear Geralt's voice, could smell him, could feel his slightly clammy skin under his hands.

Alive. Injured but alive.

Still with him.

"Thank you. For returning," Jaskier said once he finished the sutures. "I'm glad you're relatively in one piece."

"Promised I'd always do my best," Geralt said, twisting to look at Jaskier.

"Stop moving. You'll open something," Jaskier chided.

"The rest are scratches," Geralt said, not turning back.

"Our definition of scratches is very different then. Scratches don't properly cut skin, wounds do and you have no blood to spare so don't reopen them," Jaskier said, grabbing a fresh roll of bandages. "Give me your arm. I want to tend to it too."

It was quick work, the cut clean and shallow enough not to need stitches.

"I'll do the rest," Geralt said, standing up. Before Jaskier had time to protest, he added, "I need to take my trousers off for it."

"Oh. Right," Jaskier said, feeling foolish. It'd be so much easier if that didn't matter. "I'll just… go to bed. Join me when you're done?"

"I will," Geralt promised, watching him fondly for some reason.

Lying down on the bed and closing his eyes, Jaskier requested hesitantly, "...Could you keep talking? I want to be sure you're still here."

"I'm not going anywhere," Geralt promised, clothes rustling. "You have the meeting with the dean tomorrow at noon, right?"

"Yeah. Do you think you can make it? I'll figure something else out if necessary," Jaskier said, focusing on the feeling of his beads and the sound of Geralt's breathing. "Priscilla and Essi want to take me out to get new clothes too. I suggested doing it right after the meeting but don't feel obligated to come with me. I'll just let them know we'll have to reschedule."

"They're getting you new clothes?" Geralt asked, sounding beyond surprised.

"Mmhmm. I trust them not to use it as leverage."

"They won't."

"I know. Priscilla even dropped off a measurement tape so I can just give the new numbers to my tailor. I suppose it'll be nice to have something else than the shirt Eskel knitted that actually fits."

"I'm glad you're letting them do this for you," Geralt said, done with the bandaging from the sounds of it. It didn't take long for him to extinguish the candles and join Jaskier in the bed.

The moment Geralt settled down Jaskier rolled over and met his eyes. Hovering a hand over Geralt's cheek, he whispered, "May I?"

"Always," Geralt said, nuzzling into the gentle touch.

"I love you," Jaskier said, trying to force the heaviness in his chest to disappear. Geralt was right next to him, stitched and bandaged back together, talking, breathing. Alive. The feeling had no reason to linger.

"Love you too," Geralt said. "Want to cuddle?"

More than anything.

"I know where your wounds are. There's no way for you to do so comfortably," Jaskier said, stroking Geralt's cheekbone with his thumb.

"I could still hug you as we are."

"Just be careful," Jaskier said even as he pressed his chest against Geralt's and slowly sneaked his arm around him, alert for the faintest sign of discomfort.

"I'm not made of glass," Geralt huffed, amusement lurking right beneath the surface.

"No, you're not but you're so very precious to me," Jaskier said.

"Hmmm."

"Could I kiss you?"

"Yes."

Jaskier tried to pour all his love, worry, and happiness of Geralt having returned into the tender kiss. Whether or not it worked he didn't know but the rest of the affirmations would have to wait until they had slept.

Chapter Text

"So, Pawel was a katakan," Jaskier said, sitting hand in hand with Geralt on a secluded bench in the academy grounds to let him settle down before the meeting with the dean. "Didn't see that one coming."

"I knew he was bloodthirsty but didn't expect it to be literal," Geralt agreed, making Jaskier chuckle.

"It's pretty ironic, isn't it? You found a vampire like you had theorized only for him not to match the murders," Jaskier said. "I wonder if you've been chasing after a blood red herring all this time."

"The Rook has to be involved somehow. There'd be far too many coincidences otherwise. I wouldn't be surprised if Lis was somehow behind all this. They could have partnered up too to commit the murders," Geralt said, rubbing his thumb over Jaskier's knuckles.

"What about Militsa? She'd definitely have the skills from what you told me."

"Doubt it but if the murders suddenly stop, I'll need to track her down," Geralt said, face blank and voice tight.

"Is something wrong?" Jaskier asked, concerned by the sudden change.

"No."

"I know there is. Would you please tell me? I want to help you shoulder whatever is weighing you down," Jaskier said sincerely. There weren't many things he could do for Geralt but listening was one of them.

Geralt worked his jaw, clearly fighting with himself. In a tone bordering on hostile, Geralt said, "She reminded me of Renfri."

Jaskier ignored the delivery, knowing it to just be a byproduct of Geralt's troubles with being vulnerable. Unsure of what to do with the admission, he said, "Thank you for telling me. Want to talk about it?"

"No."

"That's alright. But you can, anytime, whenever you want to," Jaskier said, squeezing Geralt's hand. "I'll be here."

"...Thanks," Geralt said after a long pause.

"You don't have to deal with things alone. Not anymore," Jaskier said gently.

"Hmmm."

By the sound of the hum anything more would be pushing too much. Not showering Geralt with more reassurances was difficult but it had been shown too many times that it wouldn't help. Would only be detrimental, make Geralt lash out in an attempt to make it stop.

So Jaskier fell silent, focusing on the warmth of Geralt's hand.

After a long while Geralt asked, "Shouldn't we go? Your meeting is soon."

"Yeah," Jaskier said, slowly standing up. All of him wanted to simply leave, to hightail it out of there. Sadly it wasn't a viable option. "Stay with me?"

"Of course."

It'd be fine. He'd just need to tell he wasn't interested in being a lecturer for now. Just decline. Say no. Should be simple. He hated that it was anything but.

Jaskier let go of Geralt's hand once they reached the entrance of the antechamber to the dean's office and nervously straightened his clothes to make sure they covered as much as possible. Plastering a fake smile on his face, Jaskier stepped in.

"Hello, Jan. Is dean Ignazy free?" Jaskier asked the secretary who was filing paperwork.

"Oh, hi Jaskier," Jan said, turning around to look at him. "You can go in, Ignazy finished the previous meeting a while ago."

Carefully maintaining his smile Jaskier thanked him and knocked on the dean's door, entering with Geralt when he got permission.

"Good afternoon, dean Ignazy," Jaskier said pleasantly, taking a seat in front of the large oak desk. "Thank you for meeting with me."

"Pankratz." Ignazy nodded in greeting, briefly looking at Geralt who stayed standing behind Jaskier. "What did you want to talk about? You didn't leave a message with Jan."

Well. Shit. That had been stupid. He really shouldn't have been in such a hurry to leave.

"I wanted to talk about the future of me teaching here," Jaskier said, doing his best to keep the flash of panic from showing. "I had to decline the offer for last winter since I was otherwise occupied but as things are, I doubt I'll be able to return as a faculty member for an indefinite time."

"How so? I've been under the impression that you've enjoyed your time with us," Ignazy asked, studying Jaskier with a frown.

"Uh. Um. You see…" Jaskier floundered, all the prepared excuses fleeing his mind.

"Pardon me asking but does it have something to do with the rumors?"

"That would depend on the nature of the gossip," Jaskier said, glad to have something to latch on.

"Most of it is frankly ridiculous, although not completely unbelievable considering your traveling companion. But I don't place much weight on stories of you having been stricken with a wastin curse or having a vampiress as a lover who sucks your lifeblood each night," Ignazy said, waving his hand dismissively. "More reliable sources have shared that you've fallen sick."

"Ah. Yes. That's true. Very persistent but not life threatening. A permanent residence might seem wise but I require plenty of fresh air. As exciting as cities are, so many people grouped together does have its downsides," Jaskier said, relieved Ignazy had brought up one of the excuses he had already shared. "We might head to the coast as we make our way down South."

"I've heard that is beneficial for one's health," Ignazy agreed. "If your situation changes, feel free to contact me. Having one of our most successful alumni is always a welcome addition to our staff."

"Thank you," Jaskier said, widening his fake smile as if basking in the compliment. "If everything is settled, I'll leave you to continue your work. Thank you for your time."

A few more pleasantries and Jaskier exited the office, Geralt right behind him.

Before they could leave the antechamber, Jan called after them, "Jaskier! I almost forgot to ask but have you seen Antoni lately? He missed work yesterday and is at least running late today."

"No, I haven't. Tymon might know, they're much closer," Jaskier said, unable to keep from tapping his feet.

"I saw him at The Rolling Rook two nights ago," Geralt said.

"...Rook…?"

"Gambling establishment."

"He's never stricken me as a type to go on a bender but I've been wrong before," Jan said. "Jaskier, could you let him know he has plenty of explaining to do if you happen to see him?"

"I will." Especially if promising it would let him get the fuck out of there faster.

"Jaskier, Geralt!" Essi waved at them, waiting with Priscilla by the academy's gate. "Are you ready to go shopping?"

Jaskier looked at Geralt, getting a nod in answer. "We are. Geralt doesn't have anything too pressing."

"Great! You'll want to visit your usual tailor, right?" Essi asked rhetorically as they headed back to the busy market area filled with shops of all kinds.

It was nice how much more space he had with all three around him, passersby having to go around their group. It was the easiest he had managed the crowds so far. No constant flinching or anxiety singing in his veins loud enough to muffle everything else. No being so hyperalert that he could barely blink, scared someone might touch him if he averted his eyes. Being among so many people was only uncomfortable.

A bell jingled cheerfully as they entered the tailor's, causing a blond man to look up from where he was cutting fabric. Smiling warmly, he said, "Ah, there you are! Priscilla told me yesterday that you'd be visiting."

"Hello, Izaak," Jaskier greeted him, bracing for comments on his changed looks that never came. "Thank you for lending me a measuring tape."

"It was no trouble, I have plenty to spare. Do you have something specific in mind?" Izaak asked, rounding the cutting table.

"No, not really. I do however have a doublet that needs new sleeves." Jaskier shook his head and took out the ink stained garment from a bag Geralt had been carrying.

"Oh dear. That truly has seen better days," Izaak said, reaching for the doublet. "I think I still have some of that fabric so fixing it should be easy. Do you want me to resize it too?"

Jaskier more threw at than handed the doublet to Izaak, reflexively recoiling. Thankfully he didn't seem to mind too much aside from looking baffled.

Before Jaskier had time to say anything, Essi interjected, "Resizing would be great."

A stubborn look from her kept him from protesting.

"Could you show us the attires you have ready?" Priscilla requested.

"Of course. Follow me," Izaak said, leading them to where clothes of various cuts and colors were displayed. "Does anything catch your eye?"

"Don't even think of the prices," Priscilla said firmly, lifting a finger when Jaskier opened his mouth. Her smile did soften the order, making Jaskier only sigh in defeat. Clearly she wasn't going to listen to reason.

Jaskier fidgeted with his beads and tried to focus on the fashion instead of calculating what everything was worth.

"Maybe one of these…?" Jaskier said hesitantly. He brushed his hand against an interestingly patterned powder blue doublet with plenty of simple lace detailing and puffed shoulders created from individual strips of fabric. The one he pointed at was a simpler midnight blue one with a few silver grey accents.

"Oh, those are lovely!" Priscilla said, apparently happy with his choices. Throwing a teasing smile at Geralt, she added, "You agree, don't you Geralt?"

"Hmmm."

"Come now, you can do better than that."

"They look good," Geralt said.

"Not the raving review they deserve but I suppose that'll do," Essi said. "Izaak, your work is stunning as always."

"Why, thank you," Izaak said, bowing lightly. "Jaskier, would you like to try them on?"

"No!" Jaskier exclaimed, stepping farther away from Izaak, eyes wide and heart racing painfully fast. He didn't want to. Couldn't. He shouldn't have protested like that. But he couldn't change clothes in a public space behind only a screen.

"You don't have to," Geralt said firmly, Jaskier snapping his attention to him. "It's alright."

Jaskier gave a shuddering exhale, grabbing his beads tightly. Geralt was with him. So we're Essi and Priscilla. Izaak had never done anything untoward even when measuring his inner thighs, always staying utterly professional.

It was fine.

He was fine.

"Sorry," Jaskier said quietly, lowering his eyes.

"Don't worry about it. I can do the alterations just according to the measurements you gave instead of also pinning the fabric while you're wearing them," Izaak said, trying to hide his confusion.

"Thank you."

"Have you decided which one you'll get?" Izaak asked, thankfully moving on.

"Both!" Priscilla said cheerily. "They're both too gorgeous to leave behind. Dark one even seems close to Jaskier's size."

"Priscilla! You can't," Jaskier protested, aghast. Her paying for one outfit he could just about accept but two? He was far too familiar with Izaak's prices not to have a good picture of the small fortune Priscilla seemed happy to throw away.

"I can and will," Priscilla said, lifting her chin. "Izaak, would you come to the side so we can discuss the price without naysayers."

"But—"

"She's not going bankrupt because of this," Essi said. "Let her do this for you. Please."

"But I…" don't deserve it.

"She's free to use her earnings the way she wants and she wants to use it on you, just like I did with the weighted blanket and sleeping potions," Geralt said.

Jaskier sighed in defeat, rueing the fact that all his dearest friends were far too stubborn to see reason.

It didn't take long for Priscilla to return with Izaak. Soon enough they exited the shop, Jaskier carrying his new dark blue doublet and matching trousers so he could try them on in private to see if the size fit like it seemed.

They had barely made it past three other shops before a call rang out behind them, "Witcher! Witcher, stop!"

A young guard hurried to them, out of breath. "I need you to come with me immediately. There's been another murder."

"Where?" Geralt asked.

"Follow me," the guard said, gesturing to Geralt to come with him.

"I need to drop by the inn first," Geralt said, glancing at Jaskier.

"No, you don't. I'll be fine with Essi and Priscilla," Jaskier said, already regretting his words.

"Are you sure?" Geralt asked, worry shining in his eyes.

"I am," Jaskier said seriously, trying to convince both himself and Geralt. "You need to go. It can't wait."

"Alright. I'll trust you know what'd be too much," Geralt said before adding seriously to Essi and Priscilla, "Take care of him."

"Always," Essi said fiercely.

"Stay safe," Jaskier said, watching as the guard led Geralt away. Suddenly people surrounding them felt menacing. Like something would go wrong any second. It was ridiculous.

"Let's go back to the inn," Essi said once Geralt disappeared from view. "Do you want to walk between me and Priscilla?

"Please," Jaskier said, gripping his beads white-knuckled.

"You're safe with us," Priscilla said, getting behind Jaskier.

"I know." He just needed his emotions to agree with his logic. Geralt leaving him in the middle of a busy city didn't change a single thing. He had been comfortable enough to leave the keep with only Eskel and Lambert during the winter. There wasn't really a difference. Aside from more strangers than he could count. It was still the same in theory.

Walking the streets wasn't that bad. He just wanted to rip his skin off with the way it crawled and Marden's phantom touches felt far too real. But it was fine. It really was. Almost. Sort of.

Essi and Priscilla kept everyone from touching him as they made their hasty way to The Song and Rose.

Aside from Marden.

There was nothing to be done about that.

It was fine.

"Jaskier, we're here. Do you have a key?" Priscilla asked, jolting Jaskier back to reality.

"Ah. Mmhmm. Yeah." Jaskier said, mouth dry. "Thanks for walking with me all the way to my room. I truly appreciate it."

"Of course we did," Priscilla said, brow furrowed with worry.

"Still, thank you. I'm not sure how I'd have managed it without you two," Jaskier said sincerely, words flowing easier again.

"Are you sure you should be alone?" Essi asked, looking just as worried as Priscilla.

"I just need some time to calm down and rest which I'd rather do alone," Jaskier said, unlocking the door. Forcing a smile, he repeated, "Thank you so much. I'll see you later."

"We'll both be in my room if you need us for anything. Feel free to drop by," Essi said.

"I'll keep that in mind," Jaskier said, entering his room.

Geralt followed Tomek towards the general area the previous murders had occurred, the killer clearly having a geographical preference.

"How long ago was the victim found?" Geralt asked.

"About half an hour or so. Sergeant is at the site already," Tomek said. "I was sent to find you and the medic. She should join us soon unless something has held her up."

"Shani is joining us?"

"I just said so," Tomek said curtly, shooting Geralt an annoyed look.

It took only one more street for Shani to appear, carrying a familiar bag smelling of herbs and disinfectant slung over her shoulder. She hurried over to fall in step with them. "Geralt! You got here quickly."

"I was already in the area. How have you been?" Geralt asked.

"Busy," Shani sighed. "I'm so sorry I haven't had time to drop by like I promised. How is Jaskier doing?"

"These have been the hardest five days in months but he's doing alright, everything considered," Geralt said. If only he could have spent the visit by Jaskier's side like they had planned.

"I'm glad to hear that. What about you?" Shani asked, studying him. "You've managed to hurt your shoulder?"

Trust a healer to spot the smallest difference in his posture.

"Found a katakan," Geralt said.

"A vampire? Was it the culprit?" Shani asked, eyes wide.

"I don't think so, not by himself at least."

"We're not going to their final kill, then. It would have been nice to know that there wouldn't be more deaths waiting to happen," Shani said, adjusting her bag as Tomek led them to where more guards were waiting by the mouth of a narrow alley mostly blocked with crates.

"Ah, you're here. Good," Luiz said, noticing them. "A new body was found but… it's a bit different this time."

"How so?" Shani asked.

"The victim has been dead for longer," Geralt said, smelling the telltale stench of putrefaction.

"How did—?" Luiz started, only to shake his head and continue. "That's true. This one had actually been hidden so it took a while for anyone to discover it. I hope you two will be able to pinpoint the time. Rigor mortis has passed so it has to be over twelve hours but aside from that…"

"Let's take a look," Shani said briskly, following Luiz into the alley.

"We already did some investigation but put everything back as close to how we found it. I'm interested in hearing your thoughts," Luiz said. "The crates blocked all of the alley originally but no reason to recreate that."

They were about halfway down the alley when the first signs of a scuffle and blood splatters appeared. It seemed like the victim hadn't been stunned immediately and had tried to escape the situation a few times before having been brought down to the ground and torn apart.

And then dragged all the way down to the butt of the dead end alley.

"That's new," Shani said, Geralt humming in agreement.

Instead of the mutilated body, they were looking at an oilskin canvas covering it. Evenly placed stones were securing it and watered down blood was creating a halo as if the killer had tried to wash away the gore. Geralt circled the covered body once before locking eyes with Shani and nodding. Together they moved the stones and peeled back the canvas.

"More escalation," Shani grimaced.

It felt almost an understatement with the way the victim's face was an unrecognizable mess from bruising and cuts, even white bone showing in some places. His body wasn't in any better condition, carved open and half of the limbs broken.

Kneeling, Geralt moved the hands that had been carefully crossed over the victim's chest to rest on the ground. "Rigor mortis has passed completely and the body has cooled down to the ambient temperature."

"That tracks. Livor mortis has become fixed too," Shani said, pressing at a purplish fingertip that didn't temporarily turn white from it. "Sergeant was right about the minimum of twelve hours."

"Make that at least a whole day, most likely longer," Geralt said, spotting housefly eggs. Taking a closer look at the gaping wound on the stomach, he frowned. "That's not right."

"What do you mean?" Shani asked, placing the hand down to focus on the largest wound as Geralt spread it further.

"The innards. They aren't in the correct order."

"You're right," Shani agreed, brow furrowed in puzzlement. "It's impossible for the wounds themselves to have shifted the organs like that."

Sticking his hand in to feel around and ignoring the shocked and disgusted noises from the guards, Geralt said, "Nothing is missing which is good, there's monsters with taste for particular ones. The killer probably placed everything back in after they spilled."

"That's a lot of effort spent when combined with the posing, an attempt to wash away some of the blood, and covering the body. Staying so long at the scene and most likely returning after fetching water and to place the canvas is a huge risk," Shani said. "This isn't a busy area even during the day but it's also not completely deserted."

"It could be because of regret. Maybe the killer knew him," Geralt said, staring at the body unblinkingly as coldness crept into his chest. Something about the victim kept niggling at him.

It was impossible to tell for sure with all the facial wounds but he seemed to be in the same age bracket as the others. Blond hair was dyed and crusted with old blood despite the attempt to wash it, silken deep green doublet and trousers painted almost black with the stains.

"Did he have any possessions?" Geralt asked, not averting his eyes.

"He did," Luiz said. "A rather full money pouch that also had a wooden chip."

"Red with a black bird?"

"Yes."

"Fuck!" Geralt cursed, fists clenching. "Fuck. That's Antoni."

"What?" Shani exclaimed, face so pale it bordered on translucent.

"Antoni. One of Jaskier's friends, I don't know if he has a surname. I saw him two nights ago at The Rolling Rook where the token is from. He was wearing those clothes too. Dean Ignazy's secretary at the academy even said he's been missing," Geralt said through gritted teeth.

"Oh no, no, no," Shani shook her head, professionalism breaking as tears gathered in her eyes. "It can't be him."

"I'm truly sorry for your loss but I do need to ask for more details," Luiz said apologetically. "If you're right about the regret, the killer has to be someone close to him. You might even know them. Did Antoni have a fight with someone recently?"

"Not that I know of," Shani said, swallowing thickly and wiping her eyes looking resolute. "He had a habit of pushing for information when curious but he also tended to back down if he sensed getting too close to someone's boundaries. He didn't like arguing."

"He was in good spirits when I saw him, entertaining a woman. Although—" Geralt cut himself off, the cold feeling crystalizing around his heart.

"Although…?" Luiz prompted him.

"I need to get back to the inn. Now," Geralt said, air too thin in his lungs as he started speed walking. "Antoni wasn't the only one I knew at The Rook. Suzanna was there and she was absolutely livid with him. She has worked there for a while now."

"You can't actually think she's the killer?" Shani protested, jogging to keep up with him. "She hasn't been well since her husband died but… This? I can't believe it."

"I really hope I'm wrong. Catch up as fast as you can," Geralt said gravely, starting to run.

He needed to get back to The Song and Rose. Suzanna had been spending a lot of time there, often joining Jaskier. If he was right, and something in Jaskier's behavior triggered her…

Jaskier groaned and thunked the back of his head against the headboard. Fiddling with his beads, he stared at the ceiling and tried his best to ignore the lingering phantom touches. At least he had mostly calmed down. That was something. Now if he just could be the only one in his body.

Being able to do something would be nice too. He probably should take yet another look at the translated ledger to see if he could spot something about the patrons of The Red Games but the mere thought of it was overwhelming. Reading the music theory book he had borrowed from Essi was also out of reach, the technical language taking far more effort to comprehend than it should have when he had tried.

He needed a distraction.

Tugging at his beads, Jaskier's eyes landed on the neatly folded attire sitting on the table. It might work. He hadn't owned the clothes back then nor were any of his older ones the same color. Absolutely no link to the past.

Changing was an unpleasant experience.

Getting to worry the new doublet's sleeve was pleasant however, the fabric unfamiliar and smooth under his fingers. The clothes even really did feel like they fit as supposed to. It was surprisingly nice, knowing he'd have more options than his oversized ones. He even felt a little more like himself, finally wearing something him from before the feast would have approved of. Attracting attention was far from what he wanted but at least in Oxenfurt he'd blend in just fine, nothing about the attire out of ordinary for a bard. He might even be less inconspicuous like this.

He still needed something to do, restlessness welling up again.

Knitting would be a satisfyingly fiddly activity but keeping count of the stitches would be difficult, as would trying to work on anything else. …Getting an easier book from his storage it'd be.

Sighing deeply Jaskier hurried downstairs, trying to ignore the strangers enjoying their day and the music. He had almost made his way into the storage area when Valdo calling his name drew his attention.

"What do you want?" Jaskier asked tiredly, not slowing down as he crossed the threshold.

"Your company. It's been a long time since we've truly talked and I'm curious about what has happened, like I told you. You've changed. I want to know who you are now," Valdo said, making Jaskier freeze.

Oh. Fuck. No.

"I don't understand why you've decided to throw your future away, getting together with the Witcher. You have so many better options instead of following him around like a love-sick puppy settling for scraps. You've always craved affection like it's oxygen. There's no way you're getting it from him." Valdo shook his head, stepping closer.

"Geralt loves me," Jaskier said, mouth dry and heart trying to escape through his ribcage, "and I love him. He's all I want."

"You always say that about whoever you've happened to fall in love with for the week. It's never true, never lasts. You know it perfectly well. I bet you're already looking elsewhere so why not spend the night with me, Songbird?" Valdo said, voice smooth and reaching out.

Jaskier wished he could flinch, could back away and say no, could do anything but stand frozen. Valdo would absolutely back down if he did so.

Probably.

Maybe.

Hopefully.

Valdo's fingers gently stroked his cheek.

Jaskier wasn't sure why he had thought he might have changed what was happening. Not when Marden had taken his face between his hands and calling him Songbird, thumbs caressing his cheeks. Of course he wouldn't be listened to. Not even if he'd be able to protest.

"Julian?"

He was so cold, blood replaced by ice water.

There was no air.

Or choice.

"Julian?

The hand caressing his cheek moved to hold his shoulder, shaking him briefly. It'd surely turn into a hit soon. He wasn't responding after all. Marden wanted his undivided attention. Pain would get it.

As would continuing to touch him. It'd work even better, each handprint burning into his memory.

"What are you doing?"

"Oh, Suzanna. I was talking with Julian and… Well."

"Jaskier, let's go."

To the breakfast parlor?

A hand wrapped around his wrist, turning Jaskier around and tugging him forward.

"Where are you going?"

It was a good question. He was too disoriented to see properly. Not that he knew the castle's layout.

All he could do was to let himself be led.

Chapter Text

"Jaskier!"

"Wha— What?" Jaskier gasped, blinking rapidly as he tried to grasp the situation. Everything was still foggy, disjointed and confusing. He was standing in an alley he couldn't remember entering. His chest hurt and body trembled as Marden kept washing his hair.

He wasn't alone. "Suzanna?"

Why in the world was she here? Wherever here was.

"What were you doing with Valdo?" Suzanna asked coldly, staring at Jaskier with a shuttered expression.

"Valdo?" He had been with Marden, hadn't he? Except… He wasn't at the castle. It didn't have dirty alleys. Or Suzanna. Perhaps he had had some variety of a flashback. He dearly hoped so. It was the better option.

"Yes, Valdo," Suzanna said, eyes darkening.

"I wasn't doing anything."

"Don't lie to me! I heard Valdo, you were about to get together," Suzanna spat. "You were about to cheat!"

"I wasn't." Jaskier shook his head frantically, pressing himself tighter against the wall he was leaning on. Breathing was getting harder again. "I want absolutely nothing to do with him."

"You've been meeting him in private when Geralt isn't around, out of anyone's eyesight. You even dressed up for him! It's not the first time you've cheated with him during the time I've known you so don't try to deny it," Suzanna said, each word turning more venomous and hands clenching. "I thought you were serious about Geralt, had changed. I hate having been wrong."

Jaskier shook his head again, throat constricting and tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. He wanted to leave, to disappear. Be anywhere else. He didn't know why she was so livid, why she had dragged him somewhere secluded.

What the hell was going on?

"I'm not—" Jaskier forced out, inching away as Suzanna got closer.

He could now remember her grabbing his wrist. It hurt. He wasn't sure if it was all in his head or if her grip really had been so forceful. Hopefully she wouldn't do it again despite looking angry enough for it. Part of him wanted to simply shut down, to not have to face her fury. He couldn't. He couldn't let himself dissociate again, not now. Hopefully adrenaline would be enough to keep him going until he was far away and somewhere safe to break down.

He yearned to be safe.

Yearned for Geralt to appear, to protect him, to make him be safe again.

"Stop lying!"

"Suzanna—"

"No! You've always been like this! You don't care! You sweet-talk and always break your promises like they're nothing. You don't love me, just do whatever you want!"

…Love her?

"You promise it's going to change and it never does. Never! You go out each night to use all our money and fuck anything with a pulse, not sparing a single thought to how it makes me feel."

Had she started to think he was her husband?

"You're scum. You don't deserve even the air you breathe!" Suzanna screamed, launching forward and wrapping her hands around Jaskier's throat.

He couldn't breathe. Couldn't back away, the wall blocking his retreat. He needed to—

Not do that.

"Yeah, with this instincts can be really unhelpful," Lambert had said after showing how to get out of a stranglehold.

Jaskier ducked down and slightly forward, placing his weight on Suzanna's thumbs making her hold break. The moment he slipped from her grasp he started running towards the mouth of the alley.

He had gotten halfway down it when an unyielding grip on the back of his doublet yanked him backwards.

If only he was still wearing them open. Shrugging one off would be so easy. As it was he was dragged deeper into the alley again, Suzanna much stronger than he had expected.

"Let go," Jaskier gasped, terror and the lingering pressure from strangulation stealing his voice.

"Why won't you stay dead?!" Suzanna shrieked, throwing Jaskier onto the ground. "Why do you keep tormenting me? I didn't mean to do it. It was an accident!"

Jaskier quickly rolled onto his back, just in time to see Suzanna draw a long knife. It had to have been strapped to her thigh, the cut of her mourning dress hiding both the slit pocket and the shape.

"Suzanna, it's me. Jaskier," Jaskier tried, scrambling away from her and barely able to draw a breath. "Please, don't do this. Please."

There was no recognition in her wild eyes. She was advancing again, teeth bared and an angry flush coloring her ashen complexion. It almost looked like something dark was coalescing around her shoulders and sneaking down her arms.

"I'll make you stay away. Make sure you'll never appear again. Make sure you'll be only a memory," Suzanna said, Jaskier barely managing to roll away as she tried to stab him. "I'll tear you apart until you're nothing!"

It was hard to see through the tears warping his vision but there seemed to be black smoke made solid overlapping her hands, extending into claws. He had no time to try to figure out what it was as he needed to avoid another stab.

"Stop, please," Jaskier pleaded, managing to draw out one of his stilettos from his boot. Using the momentum he kicked out, his heel connecting with Suzanna's stomach.

She only snarled and doubled her attack, unfazed. A clawed hand grabbed Jaskier's arm, another raising the knife.

Jaskier thrust his stiletto up, feeling it sink into soft flesh and hot blood starting to run down his hand. The cold steel stabbing him was a horrifying contrast.

Geralt barreled into The Song and Rose, looking around frantically before running to the staircase and up to their room. The few seconds unlocking it took were far too long.

"Fuck!" Geralt cursed, finding the room empty.

Slamming the door shut he ran to Essi's room and banged on hers hard enough to make it rattle on its hinges. "Essi! Essi, is Jaskier with you?"

"No, why?" Essi asked the moment she opened the door, worry shining in her eyes.

"Damn it! He's not in our room. I need to find him. I know who the murderer is," Geralt said hurriedly, already turning away.

"Is he in danger?" Priscilla asked, appearing behind Essi.

"Maybe."

"Who's the killer?" Essi asked, running after Geralt with Priscilla.

"Suzanna," Geralt said, jogging to the storage room. Hopefully Jaskier just had decided to finish going through his belongings.

"Suzanna?!" Essi and Priscilla exclaimed.

"Hmmm."

"That's… Why in the world would she do something like that?" Priscilla asked. "I can't even imagine her being a serial killer. Are you sure it's her?"

"Almost certain," Geralt said before cursing again, not finding anyone in the room. Where the fuck had Jaskier gone?

He tried to ignore the increasing tightness in his chest, each passing minute making it constrict his heart more. He had no time for it. Couldn't let himself be distracted. He needed to find Jaskier, now. Suzanna could be dealt with afterwards.

"Did Jaskier say anything about going somewhere?" Geralt asked, heading to the stable. Maybe Jaskier had seeked Roach out.

"No. He wanted to calm down alone in your room. I have no idea where he'd have gone instead," Essi said, keeping pace with him.

"You're looking for Julian?"

Geralt was almost at the door when the question stopped him in his tracks. Whirling around he saw Valdo at one of the tables.

"Do you know something?" Geralt asked, striding up to Valdo, completely ignoring the others sitting with him.

"I talked with him briefly in the storage room a while ago. He… reacted strangely," Valdo said, frowning.

Geralt wanted to snarl, to ask what the hell Valdo had said to Jaskier this time. There was no time for that. "Where did he go?"

"I don't know. Suzanna interrupted us and dragged him away. I did see them exit the backdoor however."

"Oh no," Essi gasped.

"Is something wrong?" Valdo asked, frown deepening. "Is Julian alright?"

Not bothering to answer, Geralt hurried to the backdoor. Everything seemed normal when he entered the street. Looking around he tried to find something, anything that would point him in the right direction. He didn't have time for standing around uselessly. Not seeing any clues, he closed his eyes and drew a deep breath through his nose.

Sunshine, green spring, and honey. Traces of ink and lute polish. He could just about make out the most precious scent for him. Jaskier really had been here not too long ago.

"I've got it," Geralt said. Looking at Essi and Priscilla he continued, "Shani and the guards will be here soon. Tell them to follow me."

"How? They'll have no idea where to go," Priscilla asked.

Shit.

That was true.

Taking out a vial of Black Blood he had been carrying, Geralt said, "I'll leave a handprint on a wall whenever I turn. This will stay black even when dried."

"Alright." Priscilla nodded.

"I'm coming with you," Essi stated. "Don't slow down to wait for me but I will follow."

"It'll be dangerous," Geralt said, starting to track down the faint scent.

"I know and don't care. Jaskier is in trouble and I'm not leaving him to it alone," Essi said, already falling behind as Geralt sped up.

He probably should protest and to tell her no but having her there could be useful. She could look after Jaskier while he dealt with Suzanna, hopefully even lead him away from the danger. He wished it wouldn't be necessary but it was highly doubtful.

Geralt sprinted down the streets, not caring about the annoyed exclamation and physically pushing through people who didn't make way quickly enough. As the scent grew stronger, the less people there were until none were left.

He could hear Suzanna screaming accusations.

Speeding up even more Geralt drew his sword and rounded one last corner just in time to see Jaskier kick Suzanna in the stomach, both of them on the ground knives in hands.

He had no idea what the sound rending out of him was when Suzanna buried hers into Jaskier.

No. No. No!

He couldn't have been too slow.

Too late.

He couldn't have failed in an even worse way than before.

He couldn't have lost Jaskier.

Suzanna snapped her head up to look at Geralt and stumbled onto her feet, clutching the right side of her ribcage where Jaskier's stiletto was sticking out of. She hastily backed away as he ran forward.

Keeping an eye on Suzanna and pointing his sword at her, he kneeled by Jaskier's side.

"Ge— Geralt…?" Jaskier gasped, blinking rapidly.

Alive. Jaskier was alive.

"It's me. You'll be alright," Geralt said, daring to focus solely on Jaskier for a second to assess his condition; red marks circling his neck and left wrist, and a knife still buried into his side. It was impossible to say for sure without examination but from the placement it seemed like it had avoided the internal organs.

It was difficult to drag his eyes away from the weapon and back to Suzanna. The darkness around her was strange, something he couldn't immediately pin down.

"Help is coming. I need you to keep pressure on your wound," Geralt said.

"...Wound…?"

"You got stabbed."

"Oh."

"Whatever you do, do not draw the knife out," Geralt said, satisfied that Jaskier managed to locate his wound and start pressing to staunch the blood flow.

"Not in me," Jaskier said, words slurring.

"What?"

"Knife. Cut my side, not stuck in."

Good. That'd be easier to treat than a deep penetration wound. Smaller chance of infection too.

"Just hang on a little longer, Jaskier. Everything will be fine," Geralt said, standing up. He needed to take Suzanna down before she had a chance to hurt anyone again.

"He won't stay dead. He keeps coming back. I try and try and try and it doesn't work," Suzanna wheezed, shaking her head and tears streaming down. Her hands were stained red where they pressed around the stiletto. "I didn't mean to lose my temper, didn't mean to hit him. I was just throwing things. It was an accident but now he won't leave me alone!"

Geralt had time to take only a single step forward when Suzanna collapsed, each of her breaths loud and laborious. After a few heartbeats the blackness peeled off of Suzanna, forming a tall horned humanoid with large claws and made of shadows.

A hym.

A spectre that possessed the guilty, drawing strength from their pain and fueling it until they were driven to complete madness or suicide.

He hadn't seen one in years.

Definitely not a good timing to go against one, still wounded and strength sapped from Pawel sucking his blood the previous night. He hadn't had time to prepare either, no lighted candles to circle the hym to force it to stay corporeal or spectre oil on his sword to heighten the damage. He'd just have to make due and attack before the hym had time to act.

Geralt formed Igni and blasted fire at the hym before charging forward. His sword cut into it, the strange combination of slicing through simultaneously solid and insubstantial form familiar from other spectres.

His shoulder already twinged from the first swing. Not paying attention to it Geralt evaded the large claws reaching for him.

His second strike met only thin air as the hym teleported behind him. Pirouetting to face it Geralt got another swing in even as the claws brushed against him, immediately sapping a little bit of his vitality as the hym didn't need to land a solid hit.

Another burst of fire to make sure it would stay where it was and Geralt stabbed through the spectre's leg.

"Jaskier!"

Good. Essi had arrived, would be able to help Jaskier. It'd be easier to keep himself from turning to look at him.

The small distraction was enough to cost him, hym's claws hitting his chest and slicing through the armor, sending him flying. He collided with the ground hard enough to drive air out of his lungs. Struggling to breathe in Geralt turned his landing into a far from graceful roll, managing to get back onto his feet and sidestep the second slash as the hym teleported to him.

Geralt felt how his shoulder wounds opened again as he blocked the next attack. Quick steps backwards to give him space, he adjusted his grip and switched the lead arm. He was not going to drop his sword from something so insignificant.

Anticipating the hym to teleport behind him again, he hastily cast Yrden on the ground just as it happened.

Glad to be right Geralt hopped away and swung his sword, scoring a solid hit. Unlike with other spectres Yrden wouldn't keep a hym from turning intangible but it would slow it down noticeably. Using the time granted to him, Geralt unleashed a barrage of fast attacks that he finished with yet another flash of flames.

As the Yrden faded, the hym surged forward. The glance from its claws left Geralt shaking, more of his strength sucked away.

He couldn't afford another hit.

Grasping at the raw Chaos he could barely feel, Geralt channeled it into another blast of fire and Yrden a second later. A few evasive steps and attacks parried, and he managed to lead the spectre into the casted circle. Geralt stabbed the slowed down hym through its chest and yanked his sword outward, rending it's shadowy form apart.

A heartbeat later the hym turned into wisps of black smoke that quickly dispersed.

The silver sword dropped from Geralt's numb fingers as he gasped for air, shaking from the exertion. He allowed himself one more strangled breath before whirling around, stumbling to Jaskier as fast as he could.

He was surprised to find Shani and the guards had arrived.

"How is he?" Geralt asked, falling onto his knees by Jaskier's side.

He wanted to cradle Jaskier to his chest, to kiss his pale lips, to feel the way his heart beat and chest moved. He didn't dare to touch.

"He'll be alright," Shani said, finishing tying a bandage around Jaskier's middle while Essi was propping him up just enough for her to be able to do so. "He's lost quite a bit of blood but nothing vital was hit. He fainted only recently which in all honesty is probably for the best. It's a normal reaction to this kind of physical trauma and this way he didn't have to bear more forced touching. As long as he comes around soon there's no need to be too concerned about it."

"Hmmm." Geralt swallowed, not sure anymore if his hands were shaking from the immense worry or from his own wounds.

Looking up from Jaskier, Shani said, "You're a mess."

"I'm fine. Focus on Jaskier," Geralt said immediately.

"I'm finished with him so take that armor off. I need to stitch you back together before you too faint," Shani said firmly.

Since Shani seemed determined enough to start unbuckling his armor herself if he didn't, Geralt complied. He was starting to hurt like hell as his adrenaline started leveling out so letting Shani do her job was probably the wisest move in any case.

"Mind if I ask what happened here?" Luiz asked, walking up to him.

It reminded Geralt that there was one more person whose situation he really needed to know. "What happened to Suzanna?"

"We apprehended her. She's hurt badly but will apparently make it. Not for long, though. There's no way she won't be executed for all she has done. I'm glad the city will be safe again," Luiz said, anger hiding behind professionalism.

"She wasn't in her right mind. The monster I fought was a hym. They're spectres that possess those carrying guilt and feed on the emotion, driving their hosts to madness," Geralt said, knowing it wouldn't be changing her fate. It'd be a rare judge to sentence her to prison instead.

He still felt the need to at least make the situation clear for Jaskier's sake. As much as he wanted to tear Suzanna apart limb by limb, she had been Jaskier's friend.

Which only made everything worse. And Jaskier didn't even know about Antoni yet.

Suzanna was going to get exactly what she deserved if not better.

The most important thing was that she'd never again get close to Jaskier, could never hurt him like that again. The anger in him was welling high enough that staying still to let Shani work was increasingly difficult. He wanted to tear into Suzanna. To grab the stiletto Jaskier had stabbed her with and finish the work. To take care of the threat. To make sure there wasn't even the slightest chance for Suzanna to get to Jaskier.

He knew her fate wasn't nor should be his call. He wouldn't be able to look at the situation even remotely objectively, not with how furious and filled with worry that only fueled it he was. She had almost killed Jaskier. Had hurt him in so many ways, would keep hurting him with the memories.

His mercy was spent after telling about the hym.

"Hym or not, she's guilty of multiple murders," Luiz said. "Do you happen to know what she regretted enough to get possessed?"

"I think she accidentally killed her husband."

"A manslaughter to add to her crimes then. She's not going to be able to wriggle out of this despite law tending to be more forgiving to women," Luiz said. Nodding at Jaskier, he added, "I'd like to talk with him too once possible."

It was hard not to tell him to fuck off. The last thing Jaskier needed was to be interrogated the moment he'd wake up.

Apparently noticing the dark expression, Luiz specified, "I didn't mean right this moment. I'll visit him later or you can come to the barracks when you can, whichever happens first."

…That was acceptable.

An agreement to do so and the sergeant moved on, leaving them alone again.

"Alright, you're not going to keep bleeding like a broken sieve," Shani said, patting Geralt's arm after finishing the last bandage. "You can put your shirt on."

"Thanks."

"I need to go take a look at Suzanna but let me know when Jaskier starts coming around. I think it'll happen soon, although I doubt he'll stay awake for long. He's been through a lot," Shani said, grabbing her bag and standing up. "Don't glower at me, Geralt. I'm a medic. I do not pick and choose who to help and who to leave to their own devices when there aren't extenuating circumstances like a whole battlefield full of wounded soldiers."

"Her being a serial killer doesn't count?"

"No. Not with this," Shani said, heading to where Suzanna was lying deeper in the alley surrounded by guards.

"I admire that part of her," Essi said softly. "It's amazing how she can put aside her own emotions and practice what she has sworn to do. I'm not sure at all if I'd be able to go tend to Suzanna and sincerely do my best."

"Hmmm." He'd absolutely be incapable of it, would do the very opposite. He couldn't even look at Suzanna again, sure he'd do something unacceptable if he did.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Geralt asked, confused.

"I'm sorry that this happened. I wish I had stayed with Jaskier. Suzanna wouldn't have been able to drag him here if I had done that," Essi said, blinking tears away. "I'm so, so worried and afraid for Jaskier. It's wrong seeing him like this. I can only imagine how you're feeling at the moment."

"It's not your fault. You simply respected Jaskier's request," Geralt said, knowing Essi wouldn't have left Jaskier alone without him asking her to do so.

"That goes for you too," Essi said, slowly drawing Geralt into an embrace, giving him time to protest. "You didn't abandon him. You simply had to go do your job. Please don't blame yourself for this."

Geralt could only swallow, tense in her hug but not disengaging. He couldn't accept her words. He had failed again. Almost lost Jaskier. He should have been there, protected him from this ever happening.

"You saved him. He's alive because of you," Essi said, hugging him tighter. "Thank you. Thank you so much for reaching him in time."

A small sound from Jaskier kept him from replying.

"Jaskier?" Geralt asked gently. "Can you hear me?"

"...Uhh…" Jaskier breathed, eyelids fluttering.

"Can you open your eyes? It's safe, you're safe."

"Geralt…?" Jaskier asked, voice barely a whisper and eyes unfocused. "What…?"

"You're hurt but will be alright. You're safe now. Just rest," Geralt said, aching to touch. To reassure himself that Jaskier truly was still with him. He didn't dare to even ask for permission, just clenched his fists tight enough for knuckles to turn white.

"Oh."

"How are you feeling?" Shani asked, returning to Jaskier's other side and kneeling back down.

"...Not good," Jaskier said, sounding a little more aware. "Tired. Cold."

If only he was wearing a cloak. It'd be easy to cover Jaskier with it.

"That's normal. You're in shock and lost blood. We'll soon get a blanket to combat the chill. Some of the guards immediately went to get those and stretchers when we saw they were needed. I'm going to take you to the clinic just in case," Shani said reassuringly, the calm tone clearly rehearsed.

"Uh-huh," Jaskier hummed, closing his eyes. Only a second later he opened them, looking frantic. "Suzanna? What did—? Is she—?"

"She's not going to hurt you ever again," Geralt said, fighting to keep his own tone steady. The last thing Jaskier needed was him to lose his temper.

"No." Jaskier shook his head. Voice breaking and tears starting to fall he asked, "Did I kill her?"

"You didn't," Geralt said, wishing he could wipe the tears away.

"Thank the gods," Jaskier sniffled, wincing as his unsteady breathing agitated the wound.

How did Jaskier do that? Worry about someone who had tried to kill him? Unless he was simply relieved about not having killed another person. Having done so would definitely have torn Jaskier apart for a long time.

"How is she? Why did she try to…?"

"She's wounded and the guards are taking care of her," Geralt said, swallowing a less than kind opinion on the matter. "She's behind all the murders. A hym had possessed her, using her guilt as an anchor and sustenance."

"Oh," Jaskier said in a small voice.

"Try not to stress about her. There's time later to catch you up with everything. For now just rest," Shani said. "I know you're in pain and dizzy."

"Mmhmm."

"Listen to Shani. The only thing you should do is to lie still. The guards have returned so we'll soon get you into an actual bed," Essi said, smiling tremulously. Shooting a pointed look at Geralt, she added, "You too are going to rest the moment we get Jaskier settled. Shani was right, you're a mess yourself."

"Geralt is hurt?" Jaskier asked, voice full of worry despite the clear exhaustion.

Essi really should have waited until Jaskier wouldn't hear that addition. Now he looked ready to try to drag himself up to check on him.

"I'm fine. Shani took care of it," Geralt said quickly.

He only got a dubious look.

"Jaskier, we need to move you onto the stretcher now," Shani said. "I'm sorry but it can't be done without touching you."

"Okay," Jaskier said, panic flashing across his face.

If only it wasn't necessary.

"Only me and Shani will touch you and it'll take only seconds," Geralt said as Shani positioned the stretcher right next to Jaskier.

"Okay," Jaskier repeated, breathing getting faster and shallower.

"One, two, three," Geralt counted before lifting Jaskier onto the stretcher with Shani's help. He had to swallow an apology as Jaskier whimpered in pain and paled even more, something Geralt hadn't thought possible. At least it really did take only seconds.

"You did great," Essi said, gently placing a blanket over Jaskier. "I love you. We all do. Just close your eyes and try to sleep if you can. We'll make sure you'll get safely to the clinic."

As Geralt was about to take hold of the stretcher by Jaskier's head, Shani snapped, "Leave it. You're going to aggravate your own wounds if you strain yourself in any way. Just walking around is more than I'd prefer you to do but I know you won't agree to being carried."

There really wouldn't be any arguing with her so Geralt sighed and stood up, hating the way his head rushed for a moment before everything stabilized again.

Chapter Text

Jaskier woke up to dull pain and eyelids too heavy to open. He felt like utter shit. He couldn't keep a small moan of discomfort from passing his lips.

"Jaskier? Are you awake?"

Huh. That sounded familiar.

"Jaskier?"

"Uhh," Jaskier hummed, managing to open his eyes to slits. It was Geralt prompting him. Seeing him was nice. Made life immediately better.

"Hey there," Geralt said gently.

"Hi," Jaskier croaked, mouth dreadfully dry.

A mug of water immediately appeared. That too was nice. At least until his hand shook badly enough to spill some of the water despite Geralt not having even let go yet.

"Let me," Geralt said, voice just as soft. It was kind of strange despite being far from the first time he had used it when talking to him. Simply waking up didn't tend to have that effect.

"Okay."

It did work much better like that; Geralt slightly lifting his head with the help of a pillow and bringing the mug to his lips so he could take small sips.

It really shouldn't have been so tiring.

"Do you remember what happened?" Geralt asked, staring at him unblinkingly.

That was a good question. Looking around Jaskier saw a small unfamiliar room with another bed, cabinets, and some shelves full of jars. He wasn't sure how he had gotten there. Probably something to do with—

His breath hitched with fear.

He had been in an alley with Suzanna. Had to fight her, had to stab her in an attempt to keep her from killing him. From murdering him. He was pretty sure he hadn't been fully successful. Carefully touching his aching side proved it to be true.

"Suzanna…" Jaskier swallowed painfully. "Suzanna was behind it all, wasn't she?"

"She was." Geralt nodded.

"Why would she do that? It doesn't make sense," Jaskier said, on the verge of tears. He didn't want to believe she could do something so abhorrent. "She has never— She has bit of a temper but—"

"Shhh, it's alright. You're safe. She won't be able to hurt you ever again," Geralt said so softly it was almost a caress. "You're safe."

That wasn't the point.

He was afraid, didn't feel safe at all but he wanted answers, not platitudes.

Shaking his head and swallowing tears, Jaskier repeated, "Why did she do it?"

There was a long pause as Geralt kept just looking at him before sighing. Placing the mug on a nightstand, he said, "She accidentally killed her husband during their fight and framed it to look like a mugging. Her regret over it was strong enough to let a hym in. They're rare spectres that possess those carrying a lot of guilt so they can feed on the emotion, driving their hosts to complete madness or suicide."

"That's why she thought I was her husband?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

He didn't know how to feel about it. What Suzanna had done was absolutely unforgivable, brutally murdering three bystanders after accidentally killing her husband. It was terrible. The way she had done it was beyond horrifying. She needed to answer for her actions. But it sounded like she truly hadn't been in her right mind. It had been so evident during her attack. She started not to even know who she was with. Had turned into a manifestation of destructive wrath fueled by a literal monster possessing her.

There was a part of him that couldn't blame her despite everything. She too had been a victim in a way.

It'd be simpler if he didn't sympathize with her at all.

"How are you feeling?" Geralt asked, drawing Jaskier out of his thoughts.

"I don't know," Jaskier said honestly.

"Will you be alright for a minute while I go get Shani? She wants to check up on you now that you're properly awake," Geralt said.

"I will." Watching Geralt walk away made him want to grab him to make sure he'd stay right by his side. Separating from Geralt only led to disasters.

But he couldn't let himself fall back into the codependency where he could barely function without Geralt. He refused. Needing him to stay close at first so he'd be able to get through some of the new trauma would be unavoidable but that was different. Probably. At least admitting from the start that he wasn't alright was progress. No hiding from it for two weeks or so until thrown into a flashback.

Not that he'd be able to do much of anything physical until he had healed some. Just standing up would be a terrible idea. He was weak as a kitten and would only tear his wound open.

Wound. Hym. Essi had said something about those and Geralt. And he was still injured because of Pawel.

"Hello, Jaskier," Shani said, distracting him as she entered the room with Geralt right behind her. "How are you feeling?"

"Hi, Shani. I'm… awake and cognizant?" Jaskier said, not sure what else would be factual. He definitely didn't feel good but that was given.

"An improvement indeed." Shani smiled. "Do you remember what happened?"

"Yeah."

"That's good," Shani said. "Geralt told me that you managed to drink a bit. I'll soon get broth too for you. I know everything must be tiring at the moment and you do need plenty of rest but you also need to eat and drink often. You lost quite a bit of blood and it'll take time before your body finishes replenishing it, not to mention heal the cut itself."

"I think I won't throw up if I try eating." Not appealing at all but it'd be necessary.

"Are you nauseous?" Shani asked, frowning.

Right. Wound close to his stomach. He could see why that would alarm her.

"Not really. I just… Eating gets difficult when I'm stressed," Jaskier said, averting his eyes.

"Let me know immediately if you start feeling physically nauseous. I'll stay in the clinic for the next few days so Geralt can get me quickly," Shani said seriously. "Now, I need to take a look at the cut."

No, no, no, no. It'd require touching. He didn't want that. At all.

"I'm sorry but I truly have to."

Jaskier shook his head, starting to tear up again. He didn't want anyone's hands on him. It'd be dangerous. He'd get hurt. He was already hurting so much. He didn't want it to get worse.

"Jaskier, it's just us here. Shani would never harm you. She won't touch you more than necessary, won't do anything else than tend to your wound," Geralt said reassuringly.

"No," Jaskier whispered. "Please."

"I wish I didn't have to but it'd be dangerous for me not to monitor the healing, especially during the first stages. There could be signs of infection, the sutures might not hold, or the healing might not progress as supposed. Even without those, the bandage must be changed periodically," Shani said calmly. "I could narrate everything as I'm working so nothing would come as a surprise. It'd also be alright if Geralt supported you and helped in general so I wouldn't have to touch you as much."

He knew it was logical. Necessary even like Shani said. He couldn't suppress the absolute dread over the prospect.

"I can't," Jaskier forced out, starting to feel dizzy.

"Jaskier. I promise it's safe," Geralt said. There was so much worry and sadness in his eyes when Jaskier met them.

"Calming potion. Sleeping potion. Something," Jaskier said. "I really can't."

"Alright. Let me and Shani figure out options," Geralt said.

That was better. At least his opinion on the matter would be considered. It helped slightly, knowing he could affect something even the tiniest bit.

Getting his breathing under control stayed impossible. It fucking hurt.

"Jaskier?" Shani asked.

"Huh?"

"Geralt told me everything that's in the potions. It's safe to combine the calming potion with the painkiller you've been given and that way you can still try to eat and drink something afterwards."

"Thanks," Jaskier said quietly, letting Geralt help him drink it.

Slowly it started to help, letting him finally calm his breathing and his heartbeat stopped thundering in his ears. He was still scared of what would follow but the fear wasn't about to swallow him whole anymore.

"You can do it now," Jaskier said quietly, staring at the ceiling.

Geralt sat on the edge of the bed, helping Jaskier to lean up slightly and let him ruck up his shirt just enough for Shani to start unwinding the bandage around his midsection. Them asking permission for each step and Shani explaining everything she did let him stay somewhat grounded.

Geralt wished they could let Jaskier simply rest instead of having to tend to his wound. He hated the way slow tears started to run down Jaskier's cheeks and how small pained sounds passed his lips as Shani worked.

It wasn't a second too soon that he could assist Jaskier to properly lie down again.

"You're fine, it's alright," Geralt said, wanting to do something to make Jaskier feel better. "Shani won't need to do that again for a while. She'll get broth and more water so you can eat and go back to sleep afterwards."

"Uh-huh," Jaskier hummed, eyes still scrunched shut and brow furrowed in pain. It was only after Shani had fetched the food and left them alone again that Jaskier looked at him, blinking the last of his tears away. "Did Essi say something about you being a mess? My memories are a bit hazy but I'm pretty sure about that."

Of course Jaskier would worry about him when he really should focus on healing.

"Hyms are dangerous," Geralt said.

"And it hurt you, didn't it?"

Jaskier probably wouldn't calm down before he had answers. "I'll tell you about it while you eat."

"I know what you're doing once again," Jaskier said, looking unimpressed.

"You need to do so. Why not combine the two?" Geralt shrugged, fluffing the pillows with Jaskier's permission to support him in a better position for it.

"I'm going to eat by myself the moment my hands stop shaking enough for it," Jaskier grumbled, letting Geralt bring a spoon to his lips. "This is just embarrassing."

"Nothing wrong with needing help."

"Take your own advice and start talking."

"The hym managed to claw my chest through the armor and its touch saps energy," Geralt said, offering another spoonful of broth.

"What about your wounds from Pawel? Did you open them? There's no way they didn't bother you. You didn't have enough time to heal," Jaskier said, ignoring the spoon and looking like he was a second away from trying to get up.

"Stay put," Geralt snapped, immediately hating himself for the way Jaskier froze wide-eyed. Calmer he said, "Don't move, your wound hasn't closed enough for that. It's far too easy for you to accidentally tear it open. Give it more time before testing getting up. You'd get lightheaded from the bloodloss anyway."

"...Right…"

Not back to hums despite the quietness. That was good.

Knowing better than to lie, Geralt continued, "The shallower ones didn't bother me but I should avoid using my sword for a couple of days unless necessary."

"The bite opened?"

"Hmmm."

"And how badly did the hym hurt your chest? Should you even be up? You're not ignoring Shani's advice just to sit with me, are you? If you are, then get back to bed right now," Jaskier said rapidly, tone turning more and more worried. "Don't hurt yourself just for my sake. I'll manage."

"I'm alright. Sitting and walking isn't going to harm me," Geralt said. He'd definitely need more sleep than normal and not do much of anything aside from those but he was fine enough to sit by Jaskier's bedside. His chest hurting like a bitch and limbs feeling heavy with exhaustion didn't mitigate the fact. "I told you how I'm doing so eat."

Jaskier stared at him suspiciously for a moment before deflating, looking absolutely spent. "We will get back to this topic later. I'm not going to let you just brush it aside."

"Later," Geralt agreed. In all honesty, Jaskier had managed to stay lively for much longer than he had expected. Stubborn bard. "You need to eat a bit more before going to sleep, though."

A deep sigh was his only answer but Jaskier did manage a few spoonfuls and some water before he was on the verge of falling asleep.

It was good enough to start with.

"Sleep well," Geralt said quietly as Jaskier's breathing slowed close to the familiar tempo of sleep. Unlike his heartbeat. That stayed too fast, a reminder of how much blood had been lost.

Geralt clenched and unclenched his fists rhythmically, trying to focus on the movement instead of the anger and worry making his chest hurt more than the wounds ever could. Meditation would be a good idea, might help with reining in his emotions, but he had to stay alert in case he needed to act quickly. He couldn't chance even the slightest delay to his reaction time.

The clinic was safe but then again he had thought the same about the inn. There was no way he'd let Jaskier come to more harm.

The moment Suzanna plunged the knife into Jaskier's side kept replaying in his mind. The way the long knife had reflected light, the soft sound of it cutting flesh, breath escaping Jaskier's lips in a small punched out exhale.

The red blood. The hazy blue eyes barely managing to focus on him.

He wasn't sure if he had been more terrified in his life. He had been so sure, so frightened that he had lost Jaskier. Lost the most important person to him.

Jaskier's blood had been so red against his pale skin.

Jaskier's breathing was deep and steady in sleep. Peaceful despite the slightly furrowed brow. No nightmares. Not yet at least. They would surely return, vicious and insomnia inducing. But they had ways to manage them. It'd be difficult but they wouldn't overwhelm Jaskier, not like last summer.

He didn't want to hear the screams that the night terrors wrenched from Jaskier's throat ever again.

The knife kept plunging into Jaskier's side.

He had been too slow to put the pieces together and Jaskier had again been the one to pay the price. Again. It should be him paying for his own shortcomings, not Jaskier. Never Jaskier. Vesemir had reminded him that Jaskier would eventually get hurt again in one way or another but he never expected it'd be like this. He should have been able to keep Jaskier out of this. Out of danger. His own life was full of perils but it shouldn't touch Jaskier. His work shouldn't place him in harm's way. He didn't know what he was supposed to do if leaving Jaskier behind somewhere he thought safe when he went on a hunt wasn't enough.

Jaskier's heart beat so much faster than was normal in sleep. He couldn't stop staring at the way his chest moved with each breath. He had been so sure for a moment that he wouldn't see it ever again.

The steady movement felt like a miracle.

"Geralt? Can I come in?" There was a soft knock on the door as Essi asked quietly for permission.

Instead of saying something Geralt opened the door, lifting his finger to his lips. Gesturing Essi to come with him to the far side of the room, he whispered, "Stay quiet. Jaskier fell asleep only recently."

"He was awake? Properly?" Essi asked, matching his volume and eyes lighting up.

"Hmmm."

"Oh, I'm so glad. I know Shani said that him waking up for short periods and being disoriented is normal but it still was disconcerting to witness," Essi said, brushing the curl over her eye behind her ear.

"He acted like himself and remembered everything. Started worrying about me instead of himself," Geralt sighed, shaking his head.

"He's definitely feeling better then," Essi agreed. "He's also right about being worried about you. You really do need to rest, not just keep vigil by Jaskier's bedside. He's out of danger by now, will be alright."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"Essi—"

"No. You're wounded, exhausted, and worried out of your mind. Knowing you, you've also found a million false ways to make this your fault," Essi said firmly. "Get in that bed right this second or I'll call for Shani so she can force you to."

They weren't false.

"I don't need to do that."

"Liar."

"Sitting is restful enough, it's not like I'm doing sword practice to pass the time."

Essi was silent for a moment, staring at him with narrowed eyes before saying, "Jaskier is going to need your help for a while to get around. Shani did say it'd most likely take about two weeks before it's only scar tissue that's still healing. How are you going to do that if you're wounded yourself?"

Geralt stared back at her, looking just as displeased. Giving one more pointed glare, he moved to sit on the bed. "Happy?"

"Stop being childish. You know perfectly well what I meant," Essi huffed.

Geralt tugged his boots off and laid down. He hated how he felt immediately better, not having to stay upright.

"Geralt, this really isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong, didn't place Jaskier in danger in any way," Essi said much softer.

"You don't know that. Jaskier hasn't been able to tell why Suzanna decided to grab him. It could be because I was investigating. She was well aware of it," Geralt said, keeping his eyes on the ceiling. It was roughly cut wood, light colored and sanded down just enough to make sure it wouldn't shed splinters with age. He felt a strange kinship with it.

"From what I understand that wouldn't fit Suzanna's pattern and she'd probably have gotten rid of Jaskier sooner if she thought it'd get you off of her scent," Essi said, voice catching.

"I would have hunted her down without rest or mercy if she had done that," Geralt growled.

"Which makes it even more likely that her selecting Jaskier had nothing to do with you. She may have gone mad but she's not stupid."

"What else could it be? Jaskier has spent barely any time outside of our room. Definitely not enough to accidentally antagonize Suzanna," Geralt said, hoping the way his heart twisted didn't show in his tone.

"But he has spent time with Suzanna. He could have done or said something."

"Don't you fucking dare to pin this on Jaskier!" Geralt snapped venomously, sitting up.

There was a shuffle from Jaskier's bed but in the end he simply shifted without waking up.

"Don't you dare to say I'm blaming Jaskier," Essi hissed, much more mindful of her volume.

…No. Essi would never do that. He still wanted to attack, to protect Jaskier from the smallest implication that he had no one but himself to blame.

"Geralt, I'm not your enemy. Nor am I going to hurt Jaskier be it physically or with words. You can put your fangs away," Essi said. "You really need to calm down. Everything is going to be fine. Jaskier is safe and will keep healing. Suzanna or the hym isn't going to hurt anyone ever again. There's nothing to fight."

Geralt managed to open his fists, surprised to find crescent indentions on his palms.

"You can rest now. You really need to. You're wound up so tightly you're about to snap."

"But Jaskier…"

"Is safe. We're all safe now," Essi said softly. "Go to sleep, Geralt. I'll sit with Jaskier while you do sso."

"Hi," Jaskier said, seeing Essi sitting where Geralt had previously been when he opened his eyes. He couldn't stop himself from looking around frantically, heart in throat.

"Geralt is sleeping in the other bed," Essi whispered.

"Oh." That was good.

"It was quite the ordeal to get him to do it," Essi said, smiling. "He's been out like a light for several hours now. He definitely needs it."

"Agreed."

"And you need to eat," Essi said, grabbing the bowl from the nightstand next to her.

Less good.

"Shani's orders. I'm sure you think me having to spoon-feed you is embarrassing but it's not. Besides, you've done far more embarrassing things around me anyway," Essi said. "We can test if you can drink without help afterward. A mug is much easier to handle steadily than a spoon."

"Fine," Jaskier sighed. "You won't back down, will you?"

"That's for sure." Essi nodded.

Listening to Essi talk about nothing of importance was pleasant, making the situation less awkward. Managing to drink by himself without the water going everywhere was even better. Perhaps he could sip from the bowl next time instead of someone helping him if his hands didn't get shakier again. Being unable to do something as simple as eating by himself was disquieting. Made the idea of it even more difficult. He hated not having control over it, having to adapt to someone else's speed.

"Essi…"

"Yeah?"

"What was done with Suzanna?" Jaskier asked quietly, fiddling with the blanket eyes downcast. He wished just saying her name didn't make his heart skip a beat and a shiver run down his spine.

"The guards apprehended her. She's waiting for a trial in a holding cell," Essi said.

"And her…"

"Her what?"

"...Wound…"

"She'll live. A medic is tending to her."

Jaskier closed his eyes, grateful for the fact.

"Jaskier, can I ask something?" Essi said hesitantly.

"Mmhmm?"

"Do you know why Suzanna picked you?"

Jaskier tried to curl into himself only to stop as his wound protested, sharp pain hitting him hard enough to steal his breath. Moving slowly back to lying straight he scrunched his eyes against the tears. He wasn't sure if they were caused by the pain or the question.

"Shhhh, you're alright. It's safe, you're safe. Just relax and stay still," Essi shushed gently. "I'm sorry I asked."

"...Is okay…" Jaskier forced out, trying to ride the waves of pain without making any sounds that might be alarming to Geralt. He had no doubt Geralt would immediately wake up if he let out a whimper or a sob. Both sounds of distress were far too familiar to him to go unnoticed even in sleep.

He didn't want to disturb the rest Geralt sorely needed. It'd probably take ages for him to go back to bed if he thought there was the slightest thing wrong.

"It's not. I shouldn't have pressed you." Essi said.

"You didn't. Asking once isn't pressuring," Jaskier said once he had his voice back properly. Squishing the urge to bite his nails, he added barely audibly, "...I don't want to talk about it. I'm sorry. Sorry. I shouldn't have— Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Essi said immediately. "I should have known better than to ask something like that so soon."

"How long has it been?" Jaskier asked, realizing he had no idea.

"It's the next day."

"Could be worse, I guess," Jaskier sighed. "I hate losing time."

"Try to think of it like having had a really long night's sleep. Something you sorely need just as much as or more than Geralt does," Essi said. "You should go back to sleep actually. I can see that you're getting more tired again."

"Probably should," Jaskier agreed, closing his eyes.

He really was exhausted and not ready to deal with reality for long at once. It just… It was so much. So messy. He shouldn't hide from it but he could push it to be thought of later for now. He'd have time. No deadline to get over things like everyone had been telling him for close to a year. Could simply rest for now. He really needed to believe it.

"Sleep well, Jaskier. I love you," Essi said gently.

"Mmhmm," Jaskier hummed, drifting off.

The next time he woke up was because of Geralt prompting him.

"Go away," Jaskier mumbled, nuzzling his pillow.

"Can't do that. Shani needs to check on you and you also need sustenance," Geralt said.

That made him immediately fully awake.

"How are you feeling?" Shani asked.

Jaskier took a moment to take stock of himself before answering, "A bit better. Not as exhausted as before and my head is clearer."

"That's good," Shani said. "You don't feel feverish at all, have trouble breathing, have extremely stiff neck or have difficulty opening your mouth? No muscle spasms either?"

"No, none of those unless you count the way my hands trembled." Jaskier shook his head.

"Those symptoms aside from you hands could indicate infection or lockjaw," Shani said, clearly noticing his confusion. "How bad is the pain?"

Not the worst he had experienced anymore.

"...High."

There was a small unhappy sound from Geralt that made him want to take the word back.

"That's to be expected, especially since the painkiller has mostly run it's course. I'll give you another which should help. Next I need to take a look at the cut while changing the bandage."

That did make breathing difficult.

"I'll be fast and careful," Shani said, softening her voice from the brisk professional tone she had used.

"Uh-huh."

"Shani would never hurt you on purpose," Geralt said.

It was nice how he didn't promise she wouldn't do so at all. The wound treatment would be painful no matter what for now. Should get gradually less so, thankfully.

"I know," Jaskier whispered, unable to look at either of them. They surely knew perfectly well it wasn't the pain he was apprehensive of. He really wished that was the reason instead of the mere idea of someone touching him in any capacity making him want to run away, wound be damned. But he could do this. It was necessary. Not because someone was getting pleasure of any kind from it, neither affectionate or twisted. It was merely for his health. Purely clinical.

After a moment to gather his nerves Jaskier said, "It's okay now but could you narrate again? Sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

"Nonsense. I'm perfectly fine with asking permission and telling everything I'm doing like last time," Shani said. "If it's alright with you, Geralt could help you up enough for me to be able to unwind the bandage?"

"Yeah."

It felt terrible in every possible way. At least Shani was fast and precise, minimizing the time and contact the treatment took. He was still futilely swallowing tears by the time he could lie back down.

"It's okay. No one has to touch you for a while. It's okay," Geralt said. "You're safe. Nothing is going to happen to you. You're safe, Jaskier."

The familiar mantra started to slowly work, letting him calm down despite the touches continuing to echo. But that too was familiar. Relatively easy to ignore most of the time. He hated it but hadn't yet figured out a way to stop it from happening. If there even was a way. Hopefully time would do the trick.

"Mind giving me the bowl?" Jaskier said after a long moment, noticing Geralt's eyes land on it. "I managed to drink water without help last time and my hands feel pretty steady at the moment so I should be able to sip from it."

Geralt gave a pleased hum, doing as requested.

The bowl of broth felt ridiculously heavy in his hands but at least he really did manage to eat a bit by himself before having to hand it back to Geralt.

"How are you doing?" Geralt asked, eyes worried but sitting more relaxed than before once Jaskier had drank the painkiller.

"I'm…" Exhausted. Confused. Scared. Worried. Hurting. "Not as well as I could be."

"Hmmm."

"I'm sorry," Jaskier said quietly.

"For what?" Geralt asked, frowning.

"For getting myself into this situation and worrying you. Worrying everyone," Jaskier said, voice getting smaller. He really had been so stupid, not leaving the situation the moment he realized what Valdo would propose. If only he had done that Suzanna wouldn't have been able to drag him away. Wouldn't have had a reason to do so.

"Not your fault," Geralt said. "You didn't do anything wrong."

Jaskier could only shake his head, trying to grasp beads that weren't there. His breath hitched and fingers clenched, short nails digging into his skin.

"Easy, Jaskier. Easy," Geralt said gently, quickly opening a drawer and producing a bead necklace. "Had to take them off so they wouldn't accidentally constrict your neck while you slept."

"Ah." That made sense. It was the main reason he did so himself each night. Getting choked in his sleep wasn't an attractive prospect. He was far too done with being choked at all. Fighting not to touch his throat where bruises surely were forming Jaskier quickly looped the beads around his neck.

It was grounding to fidget with the necklace, feeling the imperfections of the wood he knew by heart and the smooth coolness of brass ones. Listening to the faint clacks the beads made as they moved.

"Jaskier, you really didn't do anything to bring this upon yourself. You're not to blame," Geralt said seriously.

"...Sure…"

The look Geralt gave him made it abundantly clear that he saw through the lie. Not surprising considering how feeble it was.

"Jaskier—"

"Geralt, this wasn't your fault either," Jaskier interrupted, grasping to find some reserve of energy. He couldn't let himself drift off quite yet, no matter how much his body screamed at him to go back to sleep. This was too important. "You didn't fail. You didn't betray me by leaving me alone so you could do your job. You didn't cause me to come to harm. You did absolutely nothing wrong."

Hopefully hearing the words would help at least a little despite how brief the reassurance was for now. He was far too aware of how hard Geralt took it each time he got even slightly hurt.

And this was far more than slightly.

All he got was a shuttered stare. Not that he had really expected anything else. Geralt was far too practiced at carrying baseless guilt on his shoulders.

Chapter Text

Jaskier bit back a heartfelt curse as he carefully settled against the pillows to be more upright. Not being able to live normally was already frustrating to no end despite it not having been even three full days. Which admittedly was the very problem, the cut having only started to heal and the constant ache turning into stabbing pain whenever he didn't take enough care while moving. It still was shit and did absolutely no favors for his terrible mood.

He wanted to get out of the bed, out of the clinic, out of the reach of Shani's hands that kept touching and touching and touching, leaving endless echoes even when she was done. He hated even the feeling of Geralt's hands on him, no matter how necessary his help too was and how he did his best to minimize the amount.

He fucking despised the current situation. The helplessness and exhaustion, the knowledge that he could easily undo Shani's hard work if he did much of anything aside from sleeping, eating, and resting. Hated having gotten himself into this situation in the first place. He wouldn't be able to flee or even attempt to protect himself from danger. Would have to just lie there, endure whatever might happen, and afterwards break into tiny jagged pieces he would never be able to reassemble. It'd be nice to at least have his stiletto close by so he could grab it if needed. He could still feel the way the stiletto had sunk into Suzanna, the hot blood running down his hand. He didn't want to experience it ever again. But he would. He'd do as Lambert had told him; to fight, to do whatever he needed to to stay alive.

It felt so wrong, being willing to hurt others just for his own sake.

Besides, requesting the blade would probably be too worrying so completely unarmed he'd stay.

"Are you alright?" Geralt asked.

"Just fine," Jaskier said, doing his best to smooth out the grimace twisting his expression.

"Are you sure? I could reposition the pillows if it'd help," Geralt offered, looking like he was about to do so.

"I'm fine," Jaskier repeated sharply, barely able to stifle most of the bite. "I don't need your help."

A lie. And unkind.

He should apologize.

"Hmmm."

Running his fingers through his cropped hair in agitation was a mistake, nails scratching his scalp leaving the sensation of it being washed in their wake.

"Beads, Jaskier," Geralt said, voice tighter than before.

Now he wanted to yank the necklace hard enough to break the cord and make the beads skitter everywhere.

"Fuck off," Jaskier said through gritted teeth, repeating the action with more force despite its futility.

He might be useless and helpless but he was not some doll to order around and play with or constantly touch before grabbing to move him somewhere else to continue. Hopefully. He really did feel like one with the way he was treated, people doing whatever they liked to him regardless of how he felt. The way his pleas not to be touched kept falling on deaf ears made him feel sick and on edge. Knowing the very valid reason didn't help much when most of his autonomy had been stripped away. He had almost no control, others making the decisions and he had no other option than to comply with them.

He wanted —needed— to affect something. Anything.

Geralt took a hissing breath before asking, "Do you need a painkiller?"

"Fuck off! Leave me alone," Jaskier snapped, running his hands down his face. He felt the telltale prickling of tears, the hot flare of anger and the desperate need for any scrap of control burning bright in his chest.

"Jaskier—"

"Go away!"

"Jas—"

"Leave!" Jaskier yelled, voice breaking as tears started to fall. "Just go."

Geralt's silence was ice cold, washing over him like a wave that smothered most of the flames. He knew he had fucked up spectacularly. Truly hurt Geralt. He couldn't take the words back or even apologize, the need to wrench control back in any way he could irrepressible. He hated what he had done, was still doing. Hated how he didn't even have to look at Geralt to know the exact expression he'd have. Hated that he was yet again pushing Geralt away despite his promise not to keep doing so. Hated himself for taking his issues out on Geralt just because he happened to be there.

He wished he was better than that.

"Fine," Geralt said emotionlessly, door slamming behind him loudly enough to startle Jaskier.

"Fucking idiot. Why did I do that?" Jaskier sobbed, pressing his palms against his eyes in an useless attempt to stop crying. He didn't have the right to be distraught by his own actions, especially since there was a part of him that felt slightly better after making Geralt leave. It was fucked up. Twisted. Cruel. He should have asked Geralt to step out like a normal person instead of cursing and yelling.

He really didn't want to make Geralt hurt more than he already did yet he had done exactly that.

Raking his nails down his scalp yet again left him feeling even worse. Each pass only invited nonexistent bruises and cuts that had scarred long ago to start aching in tandem with his actual injuries instead of bringing relief.

He wished he could scream without alarming everyone. Maybe that would help with the tangle of emotions that hurt almost more than his side.

Geralt was relatively sure he was supposed to feel furious at how Jaskier had treated him but all he could muster was cold numbness tinged with it. What the fuck had that been? What had he fucked up badly enough to elicit the uncharacteristic reaction?

Aside from letting Jaskier get hurt yet again.

It was probably that, Jaskier finally reaching the end of his patience and forgiveness that had seemed boundless. Not surprising. He might not have been the one to plunge the knife into his side but it happened because he hadn't put the clues together fast enough. Just like with Marden, the answer having been right under his nose the whole time. He had just been too blind to see who they really were and Jaskier paid the price.

There was an increasing heavy weight in his chest as the fact that he had been suddenly completely shut out, almost literally thrown out of the room started to sink in.

Jaskier had promised multiple times to do his best to stop pushing him away when he felt worse than what had settled as the new normal.

It sure didn't seem like he had tried at all just now.

Fighting the instinct to go back to Jaskier as the sobs from behind the door rang in his ears, Geralt headed to the front door after letting Shani know he'd be just outside. Easy to get if needed. The lingering coolness in the late spring air felt good on his skin as he took deep breaths. In contrast the heaviness in his chest had turned into lancing pain as if he was the one having had a knife driven into him.

It was disquietingly similar to the sensation of when Jaskier had broken up with him around the half year mark of the feast.

He really didn't know if he'd be able to forgive Jaskier if he'd do so again without truly meaning it, without actually wanting to end things and go their separate ways. It had… It had broken something in him that he hadn't even realized existed. It had taken only hours before they had talked things through but it was a sour and painful memory. One that he visited rarely. There was no reason to dwell on it or any doubt that Jaskier truly, sincerely loved him for some godforsaken reason. Now it was trying to break free, the way he had been pushed away reminding him of it too strongly.

It had been quiet, detached words back then. Almost identical to how Jaskier had been faring. Now it had been loud and explosive, just pouring out like there was no space for the words to stay in.

At least Jaskier had only told him to leave instead of telling him they were done.

That was something to hold on to.

It should be easier to figure out what he had specifically done —or not done— once they both had had a chance to calm down. Going to Jaskier right now would only lead to a fight. He wouldn't be able to keep his temper in check and Jaskier would either match it or completely shut down.

Better to continue standing outside listening to the bustle of the city and smell the mix of herbs from the clinic and fresh smell of spring that so many bodies so tightly packed together tried to overpower.

He wished he could go for a ride. Get away from everything for a while and focus solely on working in tandem with Roach. She was easy to understand, her moods and wants straightforward. She didn't even judge much whenever he ended up confiding in her no matter the topic or how much he failed at understanding emotions and how he should act. She just listened. Simply brushing her would work, bonding with her through a pleasantly repetitive yet caring task. He had paid far too little attention to her in general since arriving.

The wind had picked up and clouds were starting to roll in when he heard Shani's voice from inside, words indistinct but tone sharp and worried. Time to go back in.

"—in bed right this second," Shani ordered.

"No. I need to… I need to make things right," Jaskier said, voice choked and leaning heavily against the doorframe of his room.

Fucking reckless, stubborn bard.

"Go back to bed," Geralt snapped, striding up to Jaskier. "You're not fit to wander around."

"I'm not wandering." Jaskier shook his head, apparently immediately regretting the action as he leaned even heavier.

"You're upright and walking without help, that's close enough. Come on, back to bed," Geralt said, managing to soften his tone a bit as he reached for Jaskier. "Let me help."

"No. Don't touch me," Jaskier said, shrinking into himself.

"You're going to hurt yourself."

"No! No. Please," Jaskier said, staring at him wide-eyed and paling even more. "Please don't touch me. Please."

Ah. Jaskier's blow-up was beginning to make sense considering how much he had been touched, even his bare skin, without an option to refuse. Shani having kept a clean cloth between them probably didn't help enough. Not that it made his reaction right but at least the reason for it was slowly starting to take form.

Not understanding was difficult. It only highlighted how he still struggled with emotions despite having made progress. And Jaskier was highly emotional, had always been. His moods just were more… mercurial nowadays. Even harder to keep up with sometimes.

"Geralt…"

"Alright. I won't touch you," Geralt said, smothering the need to help. "Just be careful."

"I'm always careful," Jaskier mumbled, turning around slowly and taking unsteady shuffling steps towards the bed.

"I wish." He truly did.

Watching Jaskier gingerly lie back down was painful in itself. At least there wasn't a smell of fresh blood in the air so Jaskier hadn't managed to tear his wound open.

"Geralt, could we talk?" Jaskier asked, staring at the blanket he was worrying.

With fingers that had shorter nails in a few than last time he had seen them.

Fuck. It had been a while since Jaskier had bitten them like that. At least he hadn't accidentally damaged the skin around them. There wasn't a drop of blood Jaskier could spare.

"Yes," Geralt said, closing the door after reassuring Shani that Jaskier hadn't undone any of her work. The wound would need to be checked soon just in case but it wasn't urgent.

Geralt took a seat, waiting for Jaskier to start.

"I'm so, so sorry. I had no right to act as I did, yelling and cursing at you. You only wanted to help and I was horrible to you in return," Jaskier said, still keeping his eyes lowered and fingers busy.

"Why?" He needed to understand.

"I don't have a good explanation. I'm sorry," Jaskier said, shoulders hunching.

"Tell the bad one then," Geralt said, tone turning sharper. He would not be pushed away again. He had told Jaskier time after time that it was the worst thing to do yet it kept happening.

"...I needed to control something. Anything," Jaskier said so quietly it was hard to make out.

"And you decided telling me to fuck off was the answer?" Geralt asked, gritting his teeth. "What the hell, Jaskier?"

"I'm sorry."

"You shut me out. Again," Geralt stated, unable to keep the rising anger away from his voice and body language. "How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to?"

He requested so few things. Had to fight against bone-deep instincts to even verbalize them. Jaskier disregarding the most important one fucking hurt in a way he couldn't explain.

"I'm sorry," Jaskier whispered.

"I don't need your apologies, I need you to finally get your shit together regarding this!" Geralt yelled, forcing himself not to get up. He was certain Jaskier would read it wrong, would see it as an incoming attack. Losing control over his volume was more than enough as Jaskier tried to curl into himself with a scared noise.

Calm. He needed to calm down before things would escalate more. Jaskier still didn't deal with aggression too well and his encounter with Suzanna definitely wouldn't have helped. He had to be the one to balance things so they wouldn't crash, whether or not he was qualified to do so. As it was, Jaskier was already staring at him with half-glazed eyes and chest moving too fast with stuttering breaths.

"You're safe, Jaskier. Nothing is going to happen to you," Geralt said, softening his voice. "It's okay. You're safe. No one will hurt you."

"Uh-huh."

Oh, an answer. Maybe Jaskier wasn't as close to a panic attack or flashback as he had feared.

"I'm not going to do anything to you and neither is anyone else. It's safe, just slow your breathing," Geralt said, doing so himself too in an attempt to grab a hold of his patience.

It took a few of minutes before Jaskier had calmed down enough to say, "I really am sorry."

"I know," Geralt sighed. "That's not the problem."

"I know," Jaskier echoed quietly.

"Just… What the fuck, Jaskier?" Geralt asked tiredly. "Why do you keep pushing me away the moment you feel worse?"

"I don't mean to."

"You did this time."

"...I did," Jaskier agreed, fingers trailing towards his lips. Right before Geralt had time to tell him not to bite his nails, Jaskier changed the trajectory and clutched his beads instead. "I don't want to be touched. At all. Not by you, not by Shani, not by anyone but I don't have a choice right now. I know I don't, and it only makes it worse since I don't even protest most times because of it. I let it happen. Like with—"

"Don't," Geralt said quickly as Jaskier was about to repeat the motion with his free hand. Seeing the terribly anxious habit resurface made him want to just wrap Jaskier in a blanket and tell him to go back to sleep, conversation be damned.

Both hands firmly gripping the beads Jaskier continued, "I don't have control over anything. I hate it. So much. It just… boiled over, I guess. You were about to do something for me again instead of dropping it when I said I was fine, and right after told me to use the beads instead of just letting me do what I was doing. I suddenly just… I just needed to affect something and make you do what I wanted this time so I pushed you away."

"Hmmm."

"I overreacted so badly. Didn't think. I should never take my problems or pain out on you," Jaskier choked out, tearing up. "You don't deserve it in the slightest."

At least his reaction finally made sense. There was logic behind it he could follow.

"I don't know why I keep doing so. I don't want to. I really don't," Jaskier said, hiding his face behind his hands. "Everything just gets so much to bear sometimes and I—"

"It's okay."

"It's not."

…It wasn't really. It was too close to what he had kept doing for years, trying to keep Jaskier at arm's length by less than kind actions. Something he deeply regretted. He didn't want Jaskier to start carrying the same guilt. And as selfish as it was, he didn't want to go through it no matter how fucking much he deserved the treatment for all he had done in the past. For all he still kept doing. For all the ways he hurt Jaskier.

"Geralt? Please say something," Jaskier said, making Geralt realize he had been quiet for far too long.

"I think I understand what you tried to do. You feel powerless so you tried to take some back by controlling something and I was the only thing available," Geralt said slowly, trying to summarize.

"...Yeah… I know it's messed up."

"A bit," Geralt agreed.

"Sorry."

Geralt took a sharp breath to keep from snapping at Jaskier to stop apologizing. Shoving the irritation aside, he said, "You still didn't actually answer why you keep pushing me away in general. I know you don't actually want me to fuck off."

"I don't!" Jaskier exclaimed, meeting Geralt's eyes with a frantic look.

"Do you really have no idea why you keep doing it time after time? It's definitely not because of your people pleasing tendencies," Geralt said. It was frustrating how they had talked about a very similar problem only days ago. And that was disregarding all the times they had fought over the same thing along the months.

"I get really overwhelmed. Want the feeling to go away so badly that it spills out," Jaskier said, rubbing his face. "At the same time I don't want to make it your problem since it shouldn't be yours to bear so I still end up internalizing the emotions, except it happens too strongly and I end up building a wall between us instead."

That… was far more concrete explanation than Jaskier had ever before managed to give.

It made last of the lingering anger and hurt to bleed out.

Jaskier forced himself to move his hands back to clutching the beads instead of biting his nails. He really, really didn't know how else he'd be able to verbalize the urge behind the action if Geralt wasn't satisfied. He barely understood it himself despite all the conversations and fights. It all boiled down to not being able to deal with his emotions but there was so much on top of it that led him to hurt Geralt time after time despite not wanting to. Despite hating doing so.

"Alright." Geralt nodded. "I forgive you."

"Thank you," Jaskier whispered, heart skipping. He hadn't been sure if that'd happen, knew he had fucked up more spectacularly than in a long time. The relief was making him feel faint.

A little too literally.

Closing his eyes and exhaling slowly didn't help much.

"Geralt…? Can we stop? I don't… I don't feel too good," Jaskier said, hoping the world would stop spinning despite closed eyes and staying still.

"Fuck!" Geralt's curse sounded alarmed. "What's wrong? Did you open your wound?"

"Dizzy."

"Goddamn, I shouldn't ha—"

"You should have nothing. I was fine," Jaskier interrupted, focusing on saying each syllable clearly. It was getting harder not to slur as he had to swallow down bile. Throwing up would be a bad idea, the violent movement definitely not advisable.

"Stay still," Geralt said, sounding far too worried.

It wasn't as if he was dying. Just close to passing out if he'd try to shift too much let alone sit up. Having a small breakdown, walking around without help, and then having a long highly emotional talk back to back probably hadn't been particularly conducive for his health. At least he had been too focused on other things to really pay mind to how much the cut had been hurting ever since he had gotten up. It was starting to make itself known.

"Uh-huh."

There was a sound of Geralt getting up and opening the door. "Shani, come here."

Oh. He had forgotten about her. Knowing she had heard everything that had gone down through the thin door was disconcerting.

"What's wrong?" Shani asked, her footsteps stopping by the bed.

"Lightheaded," Jaskier said, focusing on breathing.

"Anything else? Has the pain gotten worse?"

"World is spinning enough to make me nauseous. And yeah."

Shani gave an unhappy hum. "Vertigo could be simply caused by some of the emotional stress dissipating now that things have calmed down between you two but could I please take a look at the cut? Geralt would have let me know if you started to bleed but I'd like to be sure everything is as it should."

"...Okay."

"I'm sorry. I know you truly hate this," Shani said sincerely. "If it's any consolation, I won't have to do so again today."

That was something at least.

"Could I have a calming potion before you do it? I know I shouldn't use them too much but I— I really don't— I won't be able to keep from panicking otherwise. Not after everything," Jaskier forced out, feeling like he was utterly failing. He just was so fucking weak.

"Of course. Just move very carefully so your vertigo won't get worse."

It took far too long for him to manage to safely sit up enough for Shani to start unwinding the bandage after the potion worked.

He wished it would take all of the anxiety and fear away. He wanted to be unburdened by his stupid hangups. Getting hold of Lambert's first try at the potion would be nice. Not advisable thanks to the hallucinations but it had made him feel so light, completely carefree. He wouldn't be biting back tears if he could have taken that version instead.

"All done. It's healing nicely despite your impromptu walk. I think you simply overdid things a bit. Rest and things should even out in an hour or two but if they don't, let me know," Shani said after she was finished and a mortal age had passed. "Also, I can't promise anything yet but you might be able to attend the funeral tomorrow afternoon as long as you use a wheelchair. The cemetery is really close by so it wouldn't be a long trip but you will feel physically very drained afterward if you decide to join. Staying here would be the better option but I doubt you'll agree to it."

"A funeral?" Jaskier asked, feeling like ice water replaced his blood.

"Oh. Oh no. No one told you yet?" Shani asked, paling.

"Told me what?"

Geralt exchanged a look with Shani before saying, "The last murder victim, we identified him at the scene. It was Antoni."

"No. No, no, no, you must be joking. Mistaken at least. Please tell me you are." Jaskier shook his head, not caring how it made the vertigo worse. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

"It was him," Geralt said. "I'm sorry."

Everything blurred with the tears he had been fighting. Wasn't it enough that one of his friends turned out to be a serial killer? Why did another one have to fall prey to her? Gods, the grief and loss washing over him hurt. It had been a long time since he had lost someone and never in this kind of circumstances.

"I'm so sorry, Jaskier," Shani said, sounding like she too was close to tears.

She had actually witnessed the state Antoni had to have been. Had been there to identify him.

He wanted to return the condolences, try to comfort her but all he could do was cry. It all was so fucking much. He didn't know how he was supposed to even start sorting things out.

Gasping for air between the sobs didn't help, just made him more lightheaded. Everything was starting to feel so fuzzy like a blanket was separating him from the world. There were black spots dancing behind his eyelids in beat with his racing heart. He desperately wanted to be hugged, to be held, despite the mere idea of it happening sounding like torture. He wanted something to hold on to. Something to help him drag himself out of the torrent of emotions.

"I know it hurts but you'll be alright," Geralt said, trying to catch Jaskier's eyes.

It wasn't about him. It was about the sudden void inside of him where a friend had resided.

Jaskier shook his head again only to teeter dangerously as the world spun.

"Lie back down," Geralt said, sounding like he wanted to help. At least he refrained from asking to do so, letting him lower himself without being touched.

Staying still and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes hard helped a bit, the axis of the room starting to normalize now that there was a single sensation to focus on. Made reining in his reaction easier. Air wasn't as thin anymore. Sobs were quieting to sniffles. Everything hurt, physically and emotionally, but at least awareness was back.

"Sorry," Jaskier whispered tremulously. "Didn't mean to—"

"Shhh, none of that. We're all grieving, there's no reason for you to apologize for doing so too," Shani said, voice thick.

He didn't want to make others carry his grief on top of their own. He should be strong enough to shoulder it by himself. He was already making everyone's lives so much more difficult, not managing to keep himself together or even safe.

"Shani, I'm so sorry you had to find him," Jaskier said, moving his hands and meeting her eyes that shone with unshed tears. "It must have been hard, seeing him like that."

"Hazard of my job," Shani said hollowly. "Illness and death don't discriminate or ask for permission."

"Still…"

"Don't worry about me, I'll be fine after a while. Just focus on recovering," Shani said, smiling weakly. "And by that I mean that you need to rest, not argue and walk around. Especially without help."

"I will," Jaskier promised, cringing.

Chapter Text

Jaskier wished he owned something black. It felt so wrong to attend a funeral wearing the wrong color, the closest thing he had being the new midnight blue attire with silver grey accents. Accents that had greatly multiplied since last time he had worn it when Priscilla had handed it to him. He truly appreciated that she had apparently taken it back to the tailor's to be fixed and the blood soaked fabric replaced. Even the knowledge of the extra costs she had shouldered couldn't dim the feeling. The thought of having to wear it as it had been too disturbing.

"Are you ready?" Geralt asked from behind the door.

"Yeah," Jaskier said, sitting on the bed and waiting for the pain to recede a bit. It was fucking bullshit that just changing his clothes still stole his breath away. Shani definitely hadn't been joking when she had warned him about how exhausted he'd be.

At least walking wasn't as difficult as yesterday. Far from normal and painful but better enough for Geralt to even refrain from immediately offering his help despite how painfully clearly he wanted to, his hand awkwardly hovering as if he didn't trust that he wouldn't stumble. It too was an improvement; Geralt having truly listened to his troubles with the loss of autonomy despite his terrible delivery was a small silver lining.

Not that he had to go far, the wheelchair waiting for him right by the front door.

"Want to borrow my cloak?" Geralt asked, offering it. "You might get chilly otherwise."

"Thanks," Jaskier said quietly, putting it on.

Wearing black now. Another tiny pinprick of light among the darkness.

The hard chair was uncomfortable and he already knew the position would soon make the wound hurt worse. He still wasn't going to change his mind about attending, Shani having given him her reluctant blessing to do so.

"Mind if I push you?" Geralt asked as if he didn't already know the answer.

"Go for it." Jaskier nodded. As Geralt exited the clinic he said, "This feels so strange. Like I should be doing something."

"You most definitely shouldn't."

"I know, I know."

Geralt had barely had time to stop a few feet from the door when Shani hurried out, wearing a black shawl over such a dark brown dress it was only shades lighter and carrying a small bouquet. "You didn't have to wait, did you?"

"Not at all." Jaskier shook his head.

It was a short walk to the cemetery, the perfect spring weather silently mocking them. The skies should be weeping, the wind tearing at their clothes like it was desperately trying to cling to life all the while stealing the breath from their lips.

Jaskier hated the stares he got as Geralt pushed him where Essi and Priscilla were standing with Tymon.

"Jaskier, I'm so sorry I haven't visited you," Tymon said as a greeting, voice rough. Even the neatly coiffed blond hair and pristine dark clothes couldn't hide how he looked like he hadn't slept since Antoni's death had been published.

"Please don't apologize. This must have been horrible for you, it's no wonder you haven't been up to a social visit. I know how close you and Antoni were," Jaskier said. "Besides, I haven't done much aside from sleeping."

"Still…"

"I'm so sorry for your loss," Jaskier said, wishing he could draw him into a hug or at least rub his forearm as Tymon looked away blinking tears away.

"We all lost a good man," Tymon said quietly.

"We did," Jaskier agreed before they lapsed into silence as more people gathered before the open grave.

His heart skipped a painful beat as Valdo settled a slight distance from them, watching him with an inscrutable expression. Meeting his eyes only caused Valdo to frown, in thought or anger he couldn't say.

It was impossible to look away. Valdo might decide to approach. Might want to talk to him. No one knew what their last one had been about. No one would be turning him away before he'd take even a single step towards them. Him. He wanted Valdo to go somewhere far, far away where no one might mistake them to be yet again sleeping together.

"What's wrong?" Geralt asked, startling him. As Jaskier only whipped to stare at him wide eyed, he said, "Your heartbeat and breathing changed. Is it starting to hurt too much?"

Swallowing thickly, Jaskier shook his head and focused back on the coffin by the grave. "...It's nothing."

"Hmmm."

It was slightly easier now that he wasn't looking directly at Valdo, just keeping him in his peripheral vision to make sure he'd notice any movement.

There was so much movement around him despite most people standing still.

So much that could go wrong.

Suzanna would have fit in perfectly with the funeral goers around them; clad in a black mourning dress and distraught. No one would have noticed anything off.

Valdo too was wearing full black head to toe, showing off his wealth and status with the expensive dye job. It strangely made him wonder if Suzanna had spent all her money on her dresses. Ones she had worn were far from cheap and she wasn't a noble.

…He too really should be wearing black to show his respect to the departed. He felt so rude for not doing so for the first time in his life. He hoped Valdo didn't think that Antoni wasn't worth the effort to him. It was a stupid thing to fixate on but at least it was something else than the rising fear. A small distraction. Drawing Geralt's cloak tighter around himself helped a little, the slight pressure around his shoulders a tangible sensation and coloring correct.

He wished he could have borrowed more clothes from Geralt, most of them were black after all. He had wondered about it during the first year they had travelled together. As striking as they looked on Geralt, contracts didn't pay enough to have a whole wardrobe be in black despite how meticulously mended they were. Then he had learned that there were monsters with parts that made for excellent dyes.

The priest had arrived.

He really should get out of his head before he missed the funeral.

He wished staying present didn't take as much effort as it did.

At least Valdo wasn't looking at him anymore.

It was difficult to follow the priest's speech as fear and grief warred for dominance. There was danger all around but at least it was socially acceptable to break down a little. He wasn't the only one crying, didn't draw any attention by not being able to keep himself together.

It didn't take long before Tymon was called forth alongside a few other men to help lower the coffin into the grave.

"Here," Shani choked out, offering Jaskier and Geralt each a flower from her bouquet as Antoni's parents dropped the first ones into the grave.

Jaskier nodded in thanks, watching as Tymon and Lyssa took their turn paying the final farewells.

"Let me walk," Jaskier requested quietly as Geralt started to push his chair.

"But…"

"Please."

"Alright," Geralt sighed heavily. "Let me assist at least?"

"Fine." It wasn't fine but better than the other option.

Necessary too as he had to borrow far too much of Geralt's strength to make his way to the grave. Leaning against Geralt, Jaskier stared at the flower covered coffin for a moment before letting his own softly fall to join the others.

"Farewell my friend. I'm so, so sorry you had to suffer this fate," Jaskier whispered, bowing his head. "I hope you'll find peace."

Geralt gave the slightest tug on his arm in a sign that it was time for them to return to their previous place. Jaskier let Geralt lead him, each step harder as if his strength had left him as he had let go of the white flower.

"Are you alright?" Geralt whispered as Jaskier tried to catch his breath once he was sitting again.

"...Yeah," Jaskier said, clutching the armrests as he willed the radiating pain in his midsection to diminish.

"Hmmm."

He had to trust that Geralt would keep an eye on possible threats as his focus was stolen by the effort to keep breathing steadily and biting back any sounds of pain that wanted to escape his lips.

Not yet.

He couldn't do that yet. Couldn't show everyone around him even clearer how weak he currently was, how easy it'd be to do something if Geralt would leave his side even for a second. But he wouldn't. Surely Geralt wouldn't leave him alone right now even though he was surrounded by his friends. Who hopefully really were his friends and not hollowed out versions of themselves that were infested by monsters.

He wasn't sure how his heart could bear another betrayal without utterly shattering.

He was already in pieces.

Pieces that had only recently started to truly mend. And now… Now there were new cracks and parts chipped away.

"Are you going to attend the wake?" Tymon's question drew Jaskier's attention to the world around him again.

The funeral had to be finishing up then.

"Can't," Jaskier said, not meeting Tymon's eyes. It felt as if he was the one betraying the friendships he had with his weakness.

"I understand. I'll give a toast in your stead," Tymon said. "I hope you'll get to rest."

"Thanks."

"I'll see you later then?"

"Sure." He really should manage more than single words forced past numb lips.

"See you later, Tymon," Geralt said, turning the wheelchair around and starting to push without asking for permission. "Let's get back to the clinic."

Not that Geralt simply deciding to move him mattered right now.

Geralt wished there was something he could do as he watched Jaskier lie still in bed, forearm thrown over his eyes to block everything away.

He had known attending the funeral was a bad idea, the slight bleeding the excursion had caused only highlighting it. It had been minor enough for a simple bandage change to take care of it and Shani to dare to go to the wake afterwards.

Not letting Jaskier attend the funeral would have been the worse option by far.

The few bloodstains on the old bandage still had been far too much.

"Can I get you anything?" Geralt asked, hoping it had been long enough since last time he had offered his help. He didn't want to suffocate Jaskier with his bone-deep urge to do something, anything to make him feel better.

There was a lengthy pause before, "No."

"Are you sure?"

"Mmhmm."

He needed to trust that Jaskier was being honest instead of ignoring his needs. At least he had taken a painkiller the moment they had arrived and it shouldn't have worn off yet. If only it could take all of Jaskier's pain away, physical and mental alike.

Losing people always hurt, left an aching empty space behind no matter how much part of the life it was. He knew it far too well. So many people around him died starting right from his childhood that it had become routine yet the pain of it never completely vanished. He could still remember in stark clarity the horrible moment he had realized almost everyone he had known for most of his life were gone, only Vesemir, Eskel, and Lambert left. For years Kaer Morhen had been filled with loud echoes of people long gone before their new life, the new reality of the fall of the School of the Wolf had started to take root and grow into something different yet good.

The few friendly faces outside of his family didn't tend to stay either.

Neither had his mother, whether she was dead or alive.

Jaskier and the people he had brought with him into his life were such a baffling breath of fresh air. Untainted by blood, violence and hate. No scent of death clinging to them so strongly it warned others to stay away before exchanging even a single word.

He didn't know if Jaskier had lost anyone before this.

"Geralt?"

"Yes?" Geralt asked, shoving memories of the past away.

"I…"

When there were no further words Geralt asked, "Is there something you need? Water? Food?"

"No. I just… I don't know. I can't… think," Jaskier mumbled. "Everything is muddled."

"Do you know where you are?" Geralt asked, alarmed. It had been stupid of him not to consider that everything going on might get too much for Jaskier, causing a dissociative episode.

"Oxenfurt. The clinic. Shani went to the wake and the other medic is …somewhere around here. Probably upstairs."

That was good. Maybe it was the exhaustion and pain instead. For now at least. He'd keep an eye on any change in Jaskier's memory and ability to track things around him. It'd do no good for him to completely shut down, no matter how badly he wished Jaskier didn't have to go through all this shit.

"Could you still drink before trying to go to sleep? You lost even more blood," Geralt said, deciding pointing out all the crying wasn't necessary.

"Barely stains on the bandage," Jaskier said, finally moving his arm. He looked terrible, bloodshot eyes dull and face ashen.

Geralt wished he could take Jaskier into his arms and sooth all the pain and fear away.

"You still should do so."

Jaskier sighed, laboriously propping himself up just enough to be able to drink a little when Geralt handed him the mug. Lying back down, Jaskier closed his eyes. "I hate my life."

Geralt sucked a sharp breath through his teeth, stomach dropping and chest constricting as the image of Jaskier jumping into the fucking river flashed across his memory. "No. Absolutely not."

"Not going to do anything. Never have wanted to end things," Jaskier said seriously, cracking his eyes open to slits. "Everything is just bullshit right now."

"Hmmm."

"Geralt, I'm being honest. I'm not going to do anything to myself. Didn't mean to even bite my nails yesterday," Jaskier said. "I'm sorry I'm worrying you so much. I wish I could get a grip already."

"Not your fault," Geralt said immediately.

"If you say so," Jaskier said, closing his eyes again.

It took considerable effort not to snap at Jaskier to stop blaming himself for feeling terrible. It wouldn't help. At all or anyone. Instead Geralt said, "You're right, things are fucked up at the moment. It really isn't your fault, though. You didn't cause any of this."

Jaskier's bitter, hollow chuckle sent shivers down Geralt's spine. It sounded so utterly wrong.

"I got myself into this situation," Jaskier stated, keeping his eyes closed.

"You didn't—"

"I did but can we please shelve this for now?" Jaskier asked. "I'm going to crash if I don't rest for a bit."

At least it was an honest answer instead of shutting him out. It was nice to see that Jaskier was again trying not to do so. Hopefully it would finally stick this time.

"Later," Geralt agreed. He could wait until Jaskier was ready to talk. He could. Didn't matter that he wanted to act, to get into the topic immediately so Jaskier could see reason.

Jaskier might have a pattern of pushing him away but he himself did have one of pushing topics too far and too quickly. He needed to stop thinking he already knew what the problem and the solution were from a few words and a rueful tone. It didn't tend to end well, just caused panic attacks and breakdowns instead of fixing anything.

He refused to stay as the reason for Jaskier's tears which meant he had to learn to be better than that.

"Go to sleep, Jaskier. I'll be right here," Geralt said.

"Thank you."

"Hmmm."

It didn't take long for Jaskier's breathing to slow down as sleep claimed him. His heartbeat still stayed slightly too fast, just like it had ever since the injury. Hopefully its sound would slow down back to the familiar tempo soon instead of highlighting the bloodloss still affecting Jaskier. It was unnerving to listen to. Had the opposite effect than the normal relaxing sounds of sleep.

Rubbing at his wounded shoulder that had started to ache from pushing the wheelchair, Geralt tried to focus on the way Jaskier's chest moved.

Jaskier had been so close to joining the myriad of people he had lost along the years. It could easily have been his funeral instead he had attended. It seemed like they had attracted danger like carcasses did flies lately. Or maybe it was his perception that had changed, not the actual amount. The consequences had been more dire and he had finally faced just how incredibly important Jaskier was to him. No longer was there any chance or will to try to keep him at arm's length in an attempt to keep from hurting once Jaskier would leave him.

Which Jaskier didn't seem to want to do. At all.

It still would happen. One day it really would be Jaskier's funeral he'd be attending.

Geralt had to swallow painfully, mouth suddenly dry and heart clenching.

Jaskier kept breathing.

Was still young. It wouldn't happen in decades. They had time.

He'd eventually have to ask where Jaskier wanted to be buried. Or cremated. Maybe he wished it to be in Oxenfurt or perhaps Lettenhove.

Jaskier's fingers twitched and brow furrowed before smoothing out again.

It'd be nice if at least the chilling image of Jaskier jumping into the fucking river a week after the feast would disappear. There hadn't been any danger after all. Just a misunderstanding. He had enough actual close calls to mull over as was. No need for it to stay high on the list and keep haunting him whenever Jaskier was faring especially badly. Killing himself had never even been something Jaskier had wanted to do. Not even during the weeks he had struggled to keep from carving new scars onto his sole to cover the ones left from the porcelain pieces.

Which Jaskier hadn't wanted to do for a long time now. At least he hadn't said anything about it or acted like he did. Hopefully he wasn't just keeping it to himself.

Geralt poured himself water, hoping it'd wash away the strange tightness in his throat.

He really needed to meditate soon. Maybe tomorrow. He had barely done it since arriving at Oxenfurt. Getting some actual sleep between the investigation had been the priority but it should help getting everything under control again.

Jaskier made a small distressed sound, fingers clenching the blanket. A nightmare. They had stayed away for surprisingly long.

"Shhh. You're safe. Everything is fine," Geralt said softly, hoping the words would be enough. "You're safe, Jaskier. I'm safe too. Nothing will hurt you. It's safe."

All he got was Jaskier bolting up and yelping in pain at the violent movement before falling back down.

"Fuck! Did you hurt yourself?" Geralt asked, surging forward, hovering a hand by the wound.

Jaskier started to sob, hiding his eyes behind a hand.

"Jaskier. Tell me," Geralt said, forcing himself not to rip the blanket off and lift Jaskier's shirt to see the bandage.

"Don't… know," Jaskier managed between the cries. "Where…? What's…?"

"Let me look," Geralt said, ignoring the questions for now. Physical health was more urgent. If the stitches had ripped…

"No, no. Don't." Jaskier shook his head. "Don't touch me. Please."

"I have to."

"Please don't hurt me."

The broken, terrified plea stabbed Geralt straight through the heart. "Jaskier, look at me. You're safe, had a nightmare. I need to check the wound, you could have done damage."

Jaskier did move his hand and looked at Geralt, eyes wild and glazed, tears streaming down his cheeks. It seemed like he was hanging on to reality by a thread.

"Focus." Geralt snapped his fingers to keep Jaskier's attention on him, wishing he could be gentler. "I need to take the blanket off and lift your shirt. Then touch you to inspect the wound."

Jaskier blinked rapidly, touching his side and grimacing. No blood stained his hand when he lifted it to look at it.

Not that it was enough proof. The bandage might not have soaked through yet.

"I'll give you ten seconds and then I'll check if something tore open," Geralt stated. It'd be so much easier if he could Axii Jaskier to calm down but he'd never again betray his trust like that. "One, two, three…"

"Let me do it," Jaskier rasped, making Geralt freeze.

"Can you?" Geralt asked dubiously.

"...Yeah. But do we have time? We need to— to escape," Jaskier said, dragging himself up to sit.

Oh fuck. Jaskier really wasn't completely in touch with reality, still stuck in the nightmare. Not really a surprise after the days he had had but damn concerning, especially if he wouldn't snap out of it soon.

"We have time. We are safely at the clinic," Geralt said, quickly moving pillows to support Jaskier.

"Not safe," Jaskier said, starting to shakily unwind the bandage.

"Yes safe," Geralt countered.

"Are you sure…?"

"Yes. We're in Oxenfurt at the clinic. It's safe. All danger has passed," Geralt said, clenching his jaw when there was a bloom of blood on the dressing. Fingers itching to tend to the wound himself, he handed Jaskier the supplies Shani had left by the bed. "Let me see. I won't touch without a warning."

"Okay," Jaskier said, voice slightly stronger and tears slowing down.

Geralt leaned as close as he dared, observing the sluggishly oozing cut critically. "The stitches are holding but you did tear more of the scabbing. Not much but you really need to stay as still as you can or it might get worse."

"Oh. That's not good," Jaskier said, trying to take a proper look without twisting.

"No, it's not."

Without another word Jaskier started to clean the wound, actions practiced. Maybe awareness was properly returning to him.

Wanting to test it, Geralt asked, "Do you know where you are?"

"The clinic. We attended Antoni's funeral earlier…?" Jaskier said slightly hesitantly.

Finally.

Everything was still foggy with confusion and pain. At least Geralt's presence was clear as day. That helped. Geralt would do his best to keep him safe even if there was something dangerous around after all. Which there shouldn't be since they were at the clinic. But there could be.

It was so damn hard to think.

Hopefully he wasn't tearing more of his wound open by tending it himself. Geralt would surely say something if he did but the worry was almost a tangible thing in his chest. He really didn't want to set himself back or have to suffer the same amount of pain as at first. It constantly hurt like hell as was and even painkillers weren't able to fully mask it.

Right now it felt like he was being repeatedly stabbed.

There shouldn't be anyone around who would do that. No one else was in the room with them.

Hopefully.

Jaskier stopped his work to look around, afraid Geralt had missed something in his worry. It was possible. Not even he had noticed anything wrong with Suzanna. Not Geralt's fault since he wasn't infallible but it highlighted how there were dangers that could attack any second without any warning.

Everything was so muddled, his thoughts both sluggish and racing. It was weird. Distracting.

"Don't stop, you haven't finished," Geralt said.

"But…" Jaskier said, continuing scanning the room.

"It's safe. Just us here," Geralt said firmly. "Keep going. The faster you finish, the faster you can go back to sleep."

"I don't want to sleep," Jaskier mumbled, going back to bandaging.

"Why?"

"Might get more nightmares. What if I end up actually throwing myself off the bed? Wouldn't be the first time," Jaskier said. "I'd definitely tear the stitches."

He really didn't know if his body would hold up if he lost such a large amount of blood so soon. The possibility of dying from a fucking nightmare was unnerving. What a pathetic way to go too.

"You need sleep," Geralt said, placing the medical supplies back in their place when Jaskier handed them to him.

"I need my blood more."

Hopefully there wouldn't be another Oxenfurtian katakan bursting in. Or any other kind of a vampire. Which reminded him, "What did you do with Pawel's head?"

"What the fuck?"

"Is it still rotting in the bag in our room?"

"No. Essi took it to the guards for me," Geralt said, helping him lie down.

Jaskier wished Geralt's hands didn't burn like white hot brands. He craved closeness so badly, the reassuring touches and the absolute safety of Geralt's embrace. It was as if a piece of him was missing.

"Good. Our room won't stink to high heaven then— Shit! The room!" Jaskier exclaimed, heart dropping. "Oh no, no, no. I'm so sorry we're going to lose it."

"Why in the world would we?" Geralt frowned.

"I can't perform!" Jaskier said, gripping his beads to keep himself from scratching his scalp. The one thing he was good for and now he couldn't do even that.

"I have more than enough to pay for it for a long time and still have extra. All the gambling and finishing the contract paid well. I also got a reward for killing a katakan," Geralt said. "There's nothing to worry about."

"What about paying the clinic? This isn't free, is it? Shani might not want to take much but she's not in charge," Jaskier said, wanting to leave immediately. Just get up and stumble his way to somewhere that didn't cost money.

He was already such a burden and now this.

"Calm down. The guards are taking care of that," Geralt said.

He'd love to calm down but the fear had turned into anxiety over practicalities.

"I won't be able to help with anything for a while after Shani discharges me. I'm so sorry you'll have to take care of everything, me included. You shouldn't. You really shouldn't have to," Jaskier said, words falling quicker and quicker. "I'll figure something out. I promise. I can't be even more useless than right after the feast. It's not fair to you. I'll— I'll play sitting. That's enough. I managed the funeral. I'll have healed more by that time. Playing will be fine. It will. I won't be such a burden again. I—"

"Jaskier, stop," Geralt said firmly, managing to get a word in. "Take deep breaths. Everything is alright and will continue being so. You have nothing to worry about."

"I could at least get us a room for free most times last summer but now I have nothing to contribute. You're already paying for the room and Roach's stabling while I'm a useless lump. You can't keep being responsible for everything," Jaskier said.

"I don't mind doing that," Geralt said.

"I do!" Jaskier snapped, tugging hard at his beads.

"You really need to calm down before you have a panic attack or hurt yourself."

Fuck his health. As long as he wouldn't tear the cut completely open he'd be fine. Not burdening Geralt was more important but that answer wouldn't be accepted so Jaskier took as deep breaths as he could. He hadn't noticed how stuttery they had gotten.

"That's it. Slow and steady," Geralt said.

There would be time to figure out how to manage things by himself. He really couldn't lean on Geralt for every single thing despite needing his help being unavoidable.

There had to be something he could do.

Chapter Text

Jaskier took a deep breath and stood up carefully, doing his best to ignore the way his head rushed. Getting to finally leave the clinic was a much better thing to focus on. He really hadn't been sure whether Shani would let him leave on the day she had estimated it to be fine after the way he had done slight damage to the cut. Thankfully it had been minor enough for her to not rescind the verdict despite looking displeased.

He might hate that Geralt was paying for their room by himself but he really, really wanted to leave the clinic and its unfamiliar sounds, people coming and going behind the flimsy door, and the constant smell of herbs and disinfectants mixed with unpleasant odor of various ailments people visited for.

The inn's room would be controlled. Familiar. No chance of someone accidentally stumbling in like had happened on occasion.

"—oment you start to feel worse or bleed you're coming back. Same if you get a fever, even a slight one. You're not to skip a single meal and will keep drinking more water than usual, with a little bit of salt in it. You will let Geralt help you," Shani said, Jaskier tuning in on her speech midway.

Geralt had definitely caught each and every word so it should be fine.

"I'll go with you to the inn so I can do one last check to make sure the trip there and going up the stairs didn't hurt you. After that Geralt is qualified to take over the wound care," Shani said. "I'll also take the wheelchair back to the clinic with me when I leave. I'm sorry I can't leave it with you."

"It's fine," Jaskier said, putting Geralt's cloak on and making his way to the front door where the chair waited.

He wasn't keen on spending time in public spaces in any case. Too many people, too many unknown factors. He couldn't get rid of the irrational feeling it'd be dangerous. There were so many secluded alleys where anything could happen out of sight.

Like getting murdered.

After other horrifying things were done to him.

He wasn't going to be afraid of fucking alleys, was he? That would be just as embarrassing as still being beyond terrified of bathtubs.

…He'd ask Geralt to go with him to test entering one once he could walk freely again. Hopefully the wariness was just a byproduct of how fresh everything was and how defenseless he was despite having his stilettos holstered in his boots. Surely it'd get better. Surely he wasn't that cracked.

It was kind of Geralt and Shani to just let him be, striking up a conversation as they made their way to The Song and Rose.

It took far too long. It was far too quick.

Jaskier stood up before anyone could even suggest pushing him all the way to the staircase. He was going to walk the rest of the way and that was final.

"Is everything alright?" Geralt asked while Shani moved the wheelchair out of sight to wait for her.

"Just dandy," Jaskier said, nervously flexing his fingers. "Not looking forward to people staring."

"They won't."

"That's a lie and you know it."

"Hmmm."

It did feel like half of the tavern turned to stare when they entered. The whispers accompanying it didn't help at all despite it being no surprise, people knowing Geralt had caught the serial killer and many surely also knew he had gotten himself dragged into it.

It'd be nice to be able to hurry upstairs.

"Oh, Jaskier! I'm so happy to see you got discharged," Priscilla said, joining them from the nearby table she had been at.

"Glad to be back," Jaskier said quietly, focusing on walking. His balance and strength really were atrocious.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Priscilla asked, apparently not bothered by the slow pace. "Just say the word and I'll do it."

"Not really." She had already done far too much regardless.

"That's fine, my offer stands. I'll be available whenever." Priscilla smiled.

"Thanks," Jaskier said, continuing his shuffling way without stopping. He really wasn't sure if he would be able to do so if his momentum was interrupted.

The stairs looked far higher than he remembered.

"I'll help," Geralt said, letting Jaskier throw his arm around his shoulders. "Step by step. As slowly as you need to."

It was uncomfortable despite them being nearly the same height and Geralt being beyond careful. The closeness and the way each step hurt made for a distressing journey up. Thankfully there was no one trying to use the staircase. They'd get so angry with him over how long it was completely blocked.

"Take a moment to catch your breath and then I'll check the wound," Shani said once they were safely in the room and Jaskier was sitting on the bed.

Giving a thumbs up, Jaskier did exactly that.

He'd get to rest soon. He'd be fine for a moment longer. He could resist the urge to flop down and surrender himself to the siren song of an actually soft bed. He had missed the high quality bedding.

Shani doing her job was no more pleasant than before however.

"Everything is how it should," Shani gave the final verdict. "You need to mostly rest but you should do very light exercise once in a while, it'll help. By that I mean slowly walking a lap or two around the room and similar. Do not get impatient and strain yourself in any manner."

"Got it." Jaskier nodded.

"Geralt, make sure he won't overextend himself," Shani ordered, getting an agreeing hum.

Rude. He was perfectly capable of restraining himself. The only thing aside from resting he had to do was making sure he'd stay useful but that was a minor inconvenience compared to the fact that Geralt couldn't keep carrying everything on his shoulders. He'd be fine doing his part.

He should go ask about being placed on the roster again. Tomorrow maybe. One or two more nights of Geralt paying shouldn't be too selfish. Hopefully.

Right now the bed was winning the contest against his will to help.

"Thank you, Shani. For everything," Geralt said, glancing at Jaskier who had laid down and closed his eyes looking like he was crashing from exhaustion. Nothing they hadn't expected.

"No need to thank me." Shani shook her head. "There's nothing that would have stopped me from helping Jaskier. He's dear to me. I only wish I could have acted as his friend instead of a medic more often."

"You did. It was always clear. Besides, Jaskier wouldn't have let anyone he doesn't trust to tend to him," Geralt said. Just the thought of how things would have gone without Shani was enough to make him uneasy. He would have done everything he could have but despite all the practice with wound care, he was no medic. Let alone when it came to humans who healed so differently from Witchers.

"That's true," Shani said. "Having to drug him so he wouldn't try to fight to get away would have gone terribly afterwards."

It truly would have. Even like this Jaskier had to use a potion more than once to get through without a panic attack or a flashback.

"I'll keep you updated on how Jaskier is doing. You'll probably also want to check on him in a couple of days?" Geralt asked.

"I'd like to. I might also give a completely social call at some point if that's alright?"

"Sure."

"Thank you, Geralt. For everything," Shani echoed with a smile before sobering. "I truly mean it. Things kept escalating so much that there's no knowing what Suzanna would have done next. I still don't know how to feel about her being the culprit but I do know for sure how I feel about you. Glad you're mostly alright —Don't you dare to ignore your own wounds— and so very grateful for saving both Jaskier and the residents of Oxenfurt."

"I didn't save the whole city." Geralt frowned. "Don't make me into some hero."

"You definitely are one depending on who's talking," Shani said. "Better get used to your reputation growing again."

"Oh, fuck," Geralt sighed, rubbing his face. "That's not what I wanted."

"Tough luck. Your days of being an anonymous Witcher passed long ago," Shani said, grinning.

"Why can't I be like Eskel? No one is singing his praises across the Continent." Not that those songs would be unwarranted. Eskel was damn good at what he did.

"Because your partner is a renowned bard."

Geralt looked at Jaskier who had started to snore, unable to protest that part.

"See? All those songs brought you Jaskier alongside them," Shani said. "Besides, I know for a fact that sergeant Luiz gave you a higher reward exactly because of who you are, White Wolf. It's not always so bad to be known."

"Maybe," Geralt allowed.

"I need to get going now but feel free to call on me. I'll be sure to come as fast as I can," Shani said, giving Geralt a warm hug. "Take care, both of yourself and Jaskier. Get some rest too, okay?"

"Doctor's orders?" Geralt asked, hugging her briefly before stepping back.

"No, just friend's advice," Shani said before exiting the room.

It was suddenly very quiet despite the loud snores.

Geralt walked to Jaskier on silent feet and gently covered him with the blanket from his own side. It was warm enough in the room but Jaskier still shouldn't sleep without one. No tempting a chill to set in on his watch.

Maybe he should add another just in case.

The bed was wide enough for him to settle next to Jaskier with plenty of space to leave between them. The sudden yearning to do so bordered on physical need. It had been so long since they had touched out of anything else than necessity. He wanted to draw Jaskier into his arms, to feel the way his chest moved and heart beat. Seeing and hearing them wasn't enough.

He had no idea when he'd get to do so or even brush against Jaskier's hand.

He'd wait, be it hours or years. He wasn't going anywhere.

Deciding to use the time Jaskier was deeply asleep productively instead of contemplating things he couldn't affect or how many blankets would be enough, Geralt walked to the saddlebag that held his own healing supplies and shed his shirt. It was quick work to unwind the bandages circling his shoulder and chest. Everything seemed to be healing well, all the shallower wounds already fully gone.

Rolling his injured shoulder made the lingering stiffness clearer.

He'd need to pay extra attention to it when he stretched to get it back to normal as soon as possible. He needed to be able to wield his sword perfectly. Having a usable shoulder wasn't enough.

The claw marks on his chest were also healing well despite it being slower than he'd prefer. Probably a lingering effect of the hym's power. It still shouldn't take more than a couple of days before they were nothing but new raised scars on his skin already littered with them. Nothing noteworthy.

The numbing agent in the cream he massaged on them tingled his fingers. That was as familiar as the numerous scars.

He had no idea how many there were by now.

He hated that Jaskier too was starting to collect them.

Having his own skin constantly marred was just a fact of life, his body created for fighting and staying alive, nothing more. Unlike Jaskier's. Jaskier was made for singing and laughing, not for bitter fights for survival. He wasn't supposed to know the pain of his flesh rending open or how hot his blood was spilling through his fingers.

It hurt, knowing he kept failing to protect Jaskier from that. Jaskier not blaming him hurt too.

He wanted so badly to be worthy of that trust despite having no idea how to actually do so, how to stop coming short time after time. He had shit all. He really wasn't some hero full of valor and chivalry. Those were in Toussant; Knight-errants swearing sacred oaths on the heron and the love of their Dutchess to protect the people and rid the world of terrible evils. He was just a stray Witcher who couldn't keep even the most important person to him safe.

Geralt put his shirt back on and packed the supplies away.

Jaskier was still sleeping peacefully, snores having quieted to snuffles and sighs. He looked so ill, bloodless and thin with a constant furrow between his brows belying the pain he refused to mention unless pushed. It had again been days since last time he had smiled.

At least he kept breathing.

That was the most important thing.

Geralt kneeled down by the bed, trying to fall into meditative trance. He really had ignored the practice of it for too long. It'd be fine to do now, Jaskier peacefully sleeping in their bed and he'd be right there to wake him up at the first signs of nightmare. They had decided after the first one that it'd be for the best during the day. Jaskier's fear of having a worse physical reaction was valid with the way it had happened relatively often after the feast, dreams closer to night terrors than anything. Nights were peaceful with the help of sleeping potions but using them more than once in a day was out of the question. Even like this it was more often than he'd like but the alternative was worse. They'd have to start gradually lessening the use as Jaskier's wound healed more.

Jaskier's heartbeat had slowed some. It was good to hear it beating closer to its usual rhythm.

It was difficult to empty his mind, guilt and worry clinging to him like burdocks to Roach's tail.

But those were easy enough to untangle. Maybe he'd be able to do the same to the emotions. Possibly. Didn't seem likely. He had added another huge failure to his abysmal track record. Another failure that had almost robbed Jaskier of his life and left deep scars behind. Literally and figuratively both.

He was so grateful for Lambert's self-defense lessons. There was no chance Jaskier would have made it out alive without them. He didn't know what had gone down before the scene he had witnessed but the nasty bruise circling Jaskier's throat gave a good idea.

It felt like a miracle that Jaskier didn't have any trouble breathing or speaking despite it. He must have gotten away quickly.

He should try to get Jaskier to talk about the incident. Having him describe it for the first time to the guards wouldn't go well. He just… didn't know how to press. Each time the topic veered to it, Jaskier started to shut down and panic.

Geralt let out a low annoyed grumble as his thoughts refused to calm down.

He tried to imagine Vesemir kneeling with him, giving quiet instructions and demonstrations he could follow like during the winter. It helped some, letting him center himself better.

There was no reason to stay on edge. Everything was fine, no danger lurking around. The door was locked and Jaskier slept right next to him. Even through the meditation he'd notice any changes in his environment.

The stiffness in his shoulder eased some as tension finally started to leave his frame.

Sitting up to lean on a pile of pillows, Jaskier said, "Geralt, you should go take Roach for a ride. It has been far too long since the sweet lady has had a good run."

"But you—"

"Am fine," Jaskier interrupted. "Shani just checked me over and said so a few hours ago."

"That's not what she said," Geralt said.

"Close enough." Jaskier waved his hand.

"Hmmm."

"It has been days since you've taken time to properly care for Roach. You both deserve a break."

"Are you sure you'll be alright alone?" Geralt asked. "I could go see if Priscilla is still downstairs."

"I'll be fine." Didn't matter that he hadn't been alone for long at all so far and someone had always been closeby. Geralt truly needed time to himself and tending to Roach would be the perfect way for him to relax.

Geralt looked so conflicted.

"I really will. I'm not planning on going for a walk or taking another nap so there's no reason I'd accidentally tear my wound open," Jaskier said. Going to be put back on the list of performers would have to wait for tomorrow. "You can go. I mean it."

"Hmmm."

Gripped by a worrying thought, Jaskier said, "Is it your wounds? Would going for a ride hurt you? Shit, I'm so sorry for hogging the bed. You should rest, should have told me to move. I'm sorry I didn't think—"

This time it was Geralt who interrupted, "My wounds have mostly healed. They aren't troubling me."

Jaskier wasn't sure if he believed Geralt. Their definition of 'fine' tended to differ and Geralt was skilled at not letting any physical signs show no matter how hurt he was. Probably a bone deep habit born from necessity.

"I think I could go for a short ride," Geralt said almost tentatively, studying Jaskier.

"That's great! Have fun and say hi to Roach for me," Jaskier said, glad Geralt would finally take a break. He had to be so tired of caring for him.

"I won't take long, an hour or two at most," Geralt said, buckling the sword belt on.

"No armor?" Jaskier asked, surprised. He had thought Geralt was still too on edge from all that had happened from the way he acted to not arm himself properly, especially since it was a habit.

"It's at the armorer," Geralt said.

"Armorer?"

"The hym cut through the front. A professional has to fix it."

"Oh."

He knew Geralt's chest had been hurt. Somehow he hadn't realized just how hard he had to have been hit. He wished he could help instead of not being able to do anything but worry.

"It should be finished in a couple of days," Geralt said. "Take it easy and don't tire yourself out. I'll come back soon."

"See you later," Jaskier said cheerfully, sagging the moment the door closed behind Geralt.

It was good to be alone. He didn't have to pretend being better than he was now. Everyone was already so worried about him that letting all the cracks show felt wrong. He knew it wasn't exactly the best course of action but he really didn't know how to lower his guard enough to stop. Besides, who would like to constantly hear about how damn much he hurt or how there was again splinters in his sense of safety?

It wasn't as if the others, Geralt especially, didn't have any idea so it wasn't lying by omission.

He just didn't advertise it.

It wasn't even as if there was anything to be done. He was already using painkillers and the other problems would… have to be addressed at some point. Just not quite yet. Aloud at least. It was difficult not to have the whole clusterfuck circle around and around in his head.

Getting back to performing would be nice. It'd give him something else to focus on. He'd definitely hurt more afterwards but physical pain was just pain. Simple. Not being fully dependent on Geralt would be worth it. If he got an evening slot, he'd be able to escape the pain anyway after using a sleeping potion. Dreamless nights were the highlight of his life currently. It'd be nice if being close to Geralt would usurp its rightful place as the best part of his life.

But the thought of touching someone for any other reason than his health was repulsive. He didn't want those touches either but there was no alternative.

Maybe it was that. The bone deep urge to wrench control over his body from something. It wasn't as if it had disappeared. At least refusing to touch was better than lashing out at Geralt again. He really needed to learn how not to do so when everything got too overwhelming. He'd… figure out an alternative. Just because he didn't do it very often didn't make it any more acceptable. Hurting Geralt just because he hurt himself was the last thing he wanted. Not letting himself be touched did pain Geralt too but it still was the better option, caused less damage to their relationship. It was incredible how patient Geralt was regarding his touch aversion.

Jaskier didn't bother biting back a pained sound as he shifted.

It felt good, just vocalizing his discomfort.

It was the only good thing, the walls starting to close in as there were no distractions from the muted sounds of life going on outside of the room. He really was so goddamn defenseless. All the things Lambert had taught him were currently impossible. He wouldn't be able to put up any kind of a fight, would just have to endure and hope it wouldn't be too bad. Maybe it would be even alright if he'd manage to dissociate. If he wasn't present, nothing would really happen to him, just his body. It'd be easier like that. No new memories to tear him apart.

His fingers were almost too numb to feel the beads as he fidgeted.

There was a familiar knock and Priscilla's voice asking permission to enter.

The cut wasn't numb as Jaskier got up and made his way to unlock the door. Cracking it slightly open, he asked "Do you need something?"

"Jaskier? Should you be up?" Priscilla asked, clearly taken aback it wasn't Geralt opening the door.

"I'm fine."

"Alright then," Priscilla said dubiously. "Can I come in?"

"...Sure." It'd probably be better than the walls suffocating him.

Needing to keep all little sounds of pain from escaping again was frustrating. At least being in bed while people were around had mostly stopped being uncomfortable days ago.

"Where's Geralt?" Priscilla asked, looking around.

"Gone for a ride. What do you want?" Not the most polite way to ask but he really didn't have enough energy to choose his words more delicately.

"I can leave if you'd prefer," Priscilla said immediately, somehow not looking offended. She was too good.

Jaskier shook his head. "It's fine."

"I was just wondering how you and Geralt are doing and if you'd like some company," Priscilla said. "It must be dreadfully dull to be confined to a single room."

"Things have been more exciting," Jaskier agreed. Hoping for a distraction, he asked, "Have you been up to something interesting?"

"I visited the market district yesterday and found some interesting things but the best ones were a beautifully decorated traveling book coffer and a couple of puzzle boxes," Priscilla said, smiling. "I've missed having new ones to figure out."

"I'm happy for you," Jaskier said. "I actually had to solve a box recently. It took ages despite both Geralt and I trying. You'd probably managed to do it in half an hour."

"You did? It wasn't just for the challenge, was it since both of you worked on it."

"...It was for the case," Jaskier said more hesitantly.

"Oh. How did it come up?" Priscilla asked, matching the tentative tone.

"It belonged to one of the victims and seemed important so Geralt wanted to take a better look at it."

"Was it useful?"

"Kind of," Jaskier said, averting his eyes. Swallowing thickly, he asked, "How did Antoni's wake go?"

He felt so guilty about not having attended. No one probably had expected anything else considering how weak he was but it still ate at him. He had been able to say goodbye at the funeral but…

There was a short pause before Priscilla said, "It was beautiful. We took turns playing and told stories about him. Tried to focus on the good times we had."

"Mmhmm."

"Jaskier, no one is angry or disappointed that you didn't join. We all know you cared about him and would have been there if you could choose. Of course your health had to take priority," Priscilla said gently. "It's alright, I promise."

"But I…"

"No buts. You did the right thing by not attending."

He wished he could believe it.

"At least I couldn't ruin anything," Jaskier mumbled, tugging his beads. That was a positive.

"Why in the world would you think you'd do so?" Priscilla asked, taken aback.

"..."

"Please talk to me."

"It's just that… I keep getting myself in trouble and drag others into it with me," Jaskier said, eyes downcast. "Who knows what would have gone wrong this time."

"Oh, darli— I'm sorry, didn't mean to call you that," Priscilla said. When Jaskier just waved his hand she said, "Nothing that happened is your fault. You didn't cause any of this."

Jaskier took a shuddering breath. "I did. I could have so easily avoided Suzanna taking notice of me."

He was good at that, inviting unwanted attention and provoking people.

"Her actions aren't your fault," Priscilla said firmly.

"...She thought I was going to cheat on Geralt…" Jaskier whispered, heart clenching painfully. He shouldn't say anything. Didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to get into what had happened. Didn't want to tell her how badly he had handled everything.

…He wanted her to keep saying it wasn't his fault, even though the words would be lies.

"What?"

"I wasn't. I'd never do that to Geralt. I know I've done it before, that a lot of my relationships didn't go well for one reason or another. But I really don't want to be with anyone but Geralt ever again. He's all I want."

"I know you truly love him," Priscilla said. "But why did Suzanna think that? It's so clear that you've truly committed."

"I—" Jaskier tried, words catching in his throat.

He had already broached the topic. It shouldn't be this hard to explain. He hated how his eyes burned and fingers clenched into fists. He carefully drew one of his legs up to loosely hug it, wishing he could curl into himself. To crumble into nothing so he wouldn't take space and burden everyone. Priscilla surely couldn't actually want to know, was just saying what was expected.

"...It was nothing. Just a misunderstanding," Jaskier forced out.

"Jaskier, you don't have to build walls between us. I'm not going to tear you down no matter what," Priscilla said gently. "I'd like to hear what happened but if you're not ready, I won't push."

It was sweet of her to offer him a choice.

Getting to choose was precious and so rare.

"I went to get a book from my storage but—" Why in the world was it so hard to just tell her he had had a conversation with Valdo? If it could be called that. It wasn't as if there actually was anything noteworthy about it.

Priscilla gave a questioning hum, urging him to continue.

"I froze. She overheard. I should have declined. Just said no."

It would have been so easy to diffuse the situation before Suzanna had a reason to grab him. Just a single word and he could have avoided what had happened. He was such an idiot. Weak one too for not managing to stand up for himself even after all this time. It wasn't as if Valdo would have strangled and stabbed him for turning him down. Wouldn't have locked him in a gilded cage to wait for being taken.

Wouldn't have threatened to kill Geralt.

"It really was only a conversation but I didn't manage it. Not for long. I just let Valdo say and do whatever," Jaskier said, glancing at Priscilla before looking away again. The next words were even harder as unwanted touches echoed. "He wanted to sleep with me. Touched my cheek. Called me Songbird."

He couldn't remember if he had told Priscilla that he hated that nickname now. It was hard to remember anything recent. Jaskier closed his eyes and tried to block the thoughts of both the times he had spent with Valdo along the years and what had happened with Marden. He knew they weren't the same at all. His relationships with Valdo had been messy, even plain dysfunctional at times, but never nonconsensual.

He really should have been able to decline. The worst thing that would have happened was Valdo saying something cutting and unpleasant about his ability to stay faithful to Geralt.

"Why couldn't I do something as simple as telling him to leave?" Jaskier whispered, resting his forehead on his knee.

"It's not your fault. Not at all," Priscilla said. "Valdo should have noticed that you were uncomfortable and backed off. That's on him. And everything else is on Suzanna's shoulders, not yours."

Jaskier wanted to beg Priscilla to keep lying.

Hearing her not blame him hurt in a better way than everything else. She didn't know much about what had happened at the feast, didn't know how deeply it had shattered him, didn't understand why he kept failing such easy tasks.

Her lies were beautiful and ignorant.

"I should be able to keep myself safe. Lambert even spent the winter showing me how. I shouldn't have shut down just from a nickname and a mere touch to my cheek," Jaskier said.

"You told me that you don't want to be touched. A caress to a cheek can be intimate, it's not strange that you'd be surprised," Priscilla said.

Intimate. He didn't want that.

"Marden caressed my cheeks, declared my lips soft afterwards and called my eyes beautiful. Valdo didn't do that much. I think. Suzanna got there quickly. I think. Time doesn't work as it should and neither does my memory, it could have taken her longer than I thought." He might have just blocked something away again.

"Jaskier, Valdo would never do something like that. He has acted terribly towards you but he'd never use force. Never," Priscilla said, voice thick and urgent.

"Mmhmm."

"He was thoughtless and hurt you but you aren't missing something crucial."

Hopefully.

"As for Suzanna, she fixated on a single thing that was a misunderstanding. She too completely ignored all the ways you were saying no despite the word not leaving your lips," Priscilla said. "It's them who failed, not you."

Jaskier pressed his forehead harder against his knee, tears slipping down his cheeks.

"Please believe me. Jaskier, you didn't get hurt because you did something wrong."

"...I want that to be true…" Please, please keep lying. Please keep spinning pretty words and beautiful intentions.

"It is. It really is. You're not at fault," Priscilla said, voice trembling.

He had made her cry. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, none of that now," Priscilla said gently. "You have nothing to apologize for. All that you should do is to truly listen to me instead of immediately shooting the thought down. I'm not saying this only because you're dear to me, I'm saying it because it's true."

"I'm sorry I made you cry. Shouldn't have said that about Marden out of the blue," Jaskier said, not lifting his head. He hadn't gone into those parts with her. She definitely caught the implications. "Shouldn't burden you even more. This shit is more than enough."

"I'll gladly listen to whatever you want to talk about. Don't worry about my tears, there's nothing for you to feel guilty of. You know they come easy and it's been a fraught few days lately," Priscilla said.

Those it had been.

"Jaskier, please forgive yourself for whatever you're blaming yourself for. You've done nothing wrong, have only been wronged," Priscilla said much more firmly again. As if she truly believed it.

"Maybe," Jaskier said, finally looking at her. She seemed just as determined as she sounded, wiping the few tears away.

"That's a start." Priscilla said, giving him a small smile.

"Mmhmm."

A short pause before Priscilla said, "Jaskier… I think you should let Valdo know—"

"No!" Absolutely not.

Jaskier gripped his leg tighter, fighting against scraping his nails against his scalp. It wouldn't help. Only make things worse. He didn't know why he kept doing it when distraught. Unless it really was an attempt to hurt in a different way. He couldn't think clearly enough to recall his conversations with Vesemir.

"I don't mean everything," Priscilla said quickly. "Just enough to let him know that what he keeps doing is completely out of bounds now. You sniping at each other used to be normal but now it's one-sided and only hurts you. I don't think he'll actually stop before he knows just how much he's doing damage. I'll be surprised if he didn't ease up temporarily considering all that just happened but it won't last."

"No, no, no. I don't want him to know anything. He'd say something. Use it against me," Jaskier said, chest cold.

"He's not evil."

No… Valdo wasn't. "He can be spiteful."

"To be honest, so can you," Priscilla said. "You used to needle him right back."

That too was true.

He still didn't want to share anything about what had happened with Valdo. Didn't want him to know just how pathetic he had become, how he had been so efficiently broken in so few hours. He'd be leaving Oxenfurt soon enough and then he wouldn't be seeing Valdo for who knows how long.

But he really didn't know how he'd manage to bear even more of the snide comments Valdo would shower him with whenever they'd end up in the same space. Didn't want him to hold even a shred of hope for sleeping with him ever again. Didn't want him to try again. And Priscilla was right, Valdo was many things but evil wasn't one of them. Maybe sharing the tiniest bit could go well and ensure a new kind of a peace between them.

"I'll think about it," Jaskier allowed after a long silence.

"Thank you."

"...Mind if I lie down?" His side was starting to scream in pain from the way he was sitting.

"Of course not," Priscilla said. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Could you lay the weighted blanket over my legs?" Jaskier requested, deciding it'd be safe to let someone else than Geralt do so. If only he could actually sleep underneath it but having extra pressure on the cut wasn't a good idea.

It still should help with calming down despite needing to stay awake.

Chapter Text

Being out of the city was really fucking good.

No need to block the constant din of people going on with their lives and the music playing from what sounded every other building and street corner, or the various smells and stench of so many bodies packed so tightly. No need to ignore all the dirty looks and people skittering away from him in fear. He could finally relax in a way that wasn't possible within the city walls. It was just him, Roach, and the soft sounds of nature around him. The travelers he passed didn't take away from it. He would have enjoyed going far enough to be surrounded by only wilderness instead of the tamed fields and crops of trees but it'd take too long. As glad as he was about being finally out, he had no desire to spend so many hours away. Just a short ride to settle both him and Roach who hadn't gotten nearly enough exercise despite the stablehands taking good care of her.

"Easy, girl," Geralt said, reining Roach in yet again to keep her from speeding up to a gallop. She'd get to do so once properly warmed up and when they were away from the more populated roads. He wasn't keen on trampling someone and causing an incident.

All he got was a frustrated snort, Roach clearly not caring about his reasons.

"I know, I know. You're angry about having been ignored for so long," Geralt said quietly, not wanting to be overhead talking to his horse. "I didn't have much choice. I already told you about the investigation and that Jaskier got seriously hurt. I had to make sure he'd be alright."

Roach's answering huff sounded more mollified as Geralt let her trot faster.

"It was… fucking frightening," Geralt forced out. Roach wouldn't judge or try to immediately encourage him. "I thought I lost him. For good. It's not the first time he's been in serious danger or gotten hurt but this time… He's never been this badly wounded. Never. It's going to take him a long time before he's completely healed even after he's back to being more active."

It wouldn't be surprising at all if he'd have to keep constantly telling Jaskier to slow the fuck down and remember to rest. So far Jaskier had complied with Shani's orders almost perfectly despite occasional grumbling and fearing each second he was touched but it would not stay like that. The bard was far too stubborn not to try too much the moment he felt a little better. Not to mention the way he had again fretted about money. It was disturbing how little Jaskier still valued his own health, being more than willing to compromise it just to save a few coins. Jaskier working towards being more independent again was great in itself but whether or not he'd do so wisely or even safely was a completely different question.

Jaskier regaining more autonomy should do good for his mood too despite everything else going on. The way he despised the current situation with every fiber of his being was more than clear, even without the blow-up. It still made him ache when he thought back on it. It shouldn't. They had talked it through. Jaskier had apologized and explained as well as he could. There was nothing more to be done.

He couldn't help but worry that there was growing resentment behind it. Jaskier might not even realize it. He'd deserve it after everything but he was selfish, wanting to hold on to Jaskier. To stay by his side for the rest of Jaskier's life. He didn't want Jaskier to get on a wagon and ride away, out of his life never to be seen again and leaving him behind. His early years had changed with it. He didn't want a repeat like this, with someone else he loved. Why he was even thinking back to it was a mystery. It had happened long ago, in a different life. He hadn't been bothered by it for decades. It was ridiculous to think about it suddenly.

"What the fuck?" Geralt growled, Roach jerking her head in reaction. "What the hell am I doing?"

Roach gave him no answers.

It'd have been too good.

He really needed to focus on here and now, not inconsequential things that had happened ages ago. There were much more pressing issues to take care of. Not that he was supposed to be thinking about them. Jaskier was right that he needed a moment to be away from everything and everyone as frustrating it was. It had been far too many days since he had stepped out of the city or even truly had a moment to himself. He was already feeling more centered again despite not having been riding for that long.

The air was fresh with the scent of new plants and bright green grass that hadn't had time to deepen in color. The sun was regaining strength day by day and the wind was gentle enough to feel pleasant on his skin even when he finally let Roach gallop at full speed like she had wanted from the start.

This was much better than thinking about the past.

It was only once Roach started slowing down by herself that he reined her in again to start the cool down.

The heavy thoughts were closing in again as if he had been literally running away from them. If only he could slay them like monsters. Like maras or hyms that both affected the mind. …Hym. He hadn't been prepared at all to encounter one. The possibility hadn't even crossed his mind. He had been so sure that a vampire had been involved even if they might not have acted alone. It was a really fucking bad oversight, letting himself focus solely on something that hadn't even been confirmed. Didn't matter that he hadn't heard of anyone encountering a hym in a long time. It could just as easily have been some other monster that he had disregarded. This one had even been hiding right in front of him, interacting with everyone. With Jaskier.

It was difficult to keep from tightening his hold on the reins as the image of Suzanna stabbing Jaskier flashed across his memory.

Geralt breathed deeply, doing his best to relax again. It had happened. He couldn't change it no matter how he wished to. All he could do now was to be there for Jaskier and hope it wouldn't throw his recovery too much backwards.

It would be alright. It had to.

The streets of Oxenfurt felt even louder and more crowded after the ride in the countryside when Geralt crossed the gate, making him want to turn Roach around and leave. At least people were more annoyed at him riding a horse than fearful of all he was and represented. It made for an uneventful ride to the Song and Rose's stable, only a few curses having been thrown at him by passersby who refused to move an inch to save both of them grief. Leaving Roach with a shining coat and a pail of feed, Geralt headed to the inn.

"Geralt of Rivia, I presume?" A woman asked from where she was leaning against the wall next to the front door, arms crossed.

"Yes?" Geralt frowned, something about her familiar.

"Lady Lis would like to talk to you at your earliest convenience," the woman stated with an empty smile.

Ah. The croupier he had played against the first night he had visited The Rolling Rook.

"Why?"

"Who am I to say?" the croupier shrugged. When Geralt stayed silent she said, "If I'm to guess, it might have something to do with the fact that you murdered our head bouncer."

"It wasn't murder and Lis knows it," Geralt said.

"You killed him."

"I did."

The carefully crafted smile she had worn while gambling too flickered, anger flaring up behind it. "At least you don't deny it."

"Why would I? I didn't do anything wrong. It was a fight to the death," Geralt said, suddenly missing having his armor. Not that he was expecting to suddenly have a repeat. She might have a concealed weapon but her attacking was highly unlikely. Still… He wasn't going to be taking any chances of underestimating people around him. It had only brought grief lately.

"That's lovely. Now, I have delivered the message. Come to The Rook as soon as you can. Gambling on what the next invite will include isn't something you want to do," the croupier said, smile turning venomous as she curtsied and left without waiting for a reply.

It would have been nice to have the energy to join in on Priscilla's soft singing as she worked on the puzzle box Geralt had found. Singing at least a little or testing playing his lute would be a good idea considering he had made up his mind about getting back to performing to take some of the burden off Geralt's shoulders. He had to be so rusty, not having done either since before …Suzanna. It'd be humiliating if he failed in front of everyone, voice breaking or fingering so clumsy he'd play the wrong chords.

Instead Jaskier lay on the bed, idly fidgeting with his beads and staring out of the window.

He really should get up and practice.

Do something productive.

Simply sitting up would be a start.

All he achieved was an urge to bite his nails.

He didn't want to attract attention. Hated the thought of being stared at and judged. Everyone knew he had fucked up so spectacularly that he got almost killed for it. Again. At least almost no one knew about how last summer he got close to it and how he had placed Geralt too in danger. That was something. Not that he wanted to be known for this time either. It was so hard to even try to believe Priscilla about how he hadn't done anything wrong no matter how badly he craved to keep hearing the words. It just was so easy to see in hindsight how simple it would have been to avoid Suzanna grabbing him. How he should have done better to keep himself safe during the confrontation after all the time Lambert had spent on drilling self-defense lessons into him.

Tracing the mostly faded bruises circling his throat brought forth the memory of air cutting off, the pain and fear of not being able to breathe. It had been the second time in less than a year he had been choked. He wasn't sure if he should believe it wouldn't happen yet again soon enough.

His friend had tried to murder him.

A friend.

Not some minor king with twisted tastes. Not someone who didn't know him from anything but his singing and looks.

He had trusted Suzanna. Logically known that he was safe with her despite the constant anxiety. He had been wrong. So completely, utterly wrong.

"Jaskier?"

He had no fucking idea how he was supposed to conciliate that.

"Jaskier, what's wrong?"

There were steps coming towards him.

Jaskier sat up quickly and tried to blink tears warping his vision away, patting around to find something to protect himself with. He needed to see. Needed to not be unarmed. Needed to be able to fight back if necessary. He didn't want to die. Didn't want Geralt to return only to find his lifeless corpse. He knew he couldn't stop it but he had to try.

His fingers found something on the bedside table.

"Jask— Ow!"

He had hit. It wasn't enough. He knew it wasn't. Not even to intimidate.

"Please, don't kill me. Please. Please," Jaskier whispered brokenly, curling into himself and trying to protect his head. "Please, don't hurt me..."

He knew it would happen. He couldn't run, didn't have anything else to use as a weapon. He wanted to disappear, to be somewhere safe. He hadn't even realized being in danger before being approached. Had failed again to keep himself safe.

He would die this time.

"Jaskier, it's okay. You're safe. I won't do anything to you. I love you and would never harm you."

It wasn't true. It wasn't true. It wasn't true.

Terror was stealing his voice. He couldn't even beg to be spared.

He'd die.

Suzanna would stab and carve him open until he was nothing but a mutilated mass of flesh. The man he had seen on the riverbank had been in terrible condition. It had only kept escalating. Hopefully he'd die quickly, would be strangled to death so he wouldn't have to feel being destroyed piece by piece and cut into ribbons.

He'd die.

Would be touched and caressed and cut and strangled and stabbed and touched and stabbed and touched and stabbed and—

"Jaskier, you're safe. It's safe. Can you look around and tell me what you see? You're safe. You're having a panic attack or a flashback but none of it is real. You're safe."

Lies. He wasn't safe. He'd be hurt and killed and touched and hurt and—

"You're safe, Jaskier. Look up, it's safe, you're safely in our room. Do you recognize me? Or maybe things around you?"

There was something familiar about the voice lying to him. He wasn't safe. He still loosened his grip just enough to peek over his drawn up knees.

"That's it. Slow your breathing and tell me what you see. You're safe."

No one was getting closer to him.

No one was within arm's reach.

He couldn't make out a weapon or a hand reaching for him through his tears.

The next breath turned into another sob on its way out despite being slightly deeper. There were more soft steady words telling him everything was safe and encouraging him to list things around him.

No one was trying to touch or stab him.

He had no idea how much longer it took before he was able to grasp who was talking. "Ge— Geralt…?"

"It's me. You're safe. Jaskier, you're safe, I promise. Just slow your breathing and try listing things you see," Geralt said gently.

It took another eternity before he was able to take a normal breath, tears slowing down as reality filtered in. He was in their room at The Song and Rose, sitting curled up on the bed. Geralt was kneeling just out of reach looking incredibly worried and like he wanted nothing more than to hug him —an impossible wish. He'd shatter again if he'd be touched. There was someone, no, Priscilla, standing by the door and rubbing her sternum.

Rubbing… Oh, no. No. No, no, no.

"Did I—? What did—?" Jaskier tried, a different kind of panic surging. He had thrown something, eliciting a pained sound. He had no idea what he had grabbed, how badly he might have hurt her.

He should have never hurt her. Never. He felt nauseated, fresh tears falling as the realization settled in.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Priscilla," Jaskier gasped, air starting to disappear again. How could he? How could he again hurt someone he loved? What the fuck was wrong with him? "I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!"

"I'm not hurt," Priscilla said immediately. "It was just a book and you didn't throw it hard. I'm perfectly fine. I shouldn't have tried to get close."

At least she didn't deny him doing something.

"Jaskier, beads," Geralt said quickly, making Jaskier realize he was digging his short nails into his scalp.

Everything was so blurry. He couldn't stop endlessly apologizing, stuck in a loop. He should ask how hurt Priscilla was, not forgiveness for something too abhorrent to deserve it. He had hurt her. Physically. Not just by his inability to get over things.

A bucket half full of crumpled papers was shoved into his hands. He hadn't realized needing it until there was a bitter taste in his mouth and nothing in his stomach.

"Jaskier, you need to calm down. Now. Here, drink this," Geralt said, words cutting through the haze.

Something cool touched the back of his hand so lightly he barely felt it, making him flinch. He couldn't see through his tears, needed the physical clue to be able to grab the offered vial. He still hated the briefest touch.

The potion did nothing to the taste in his mouth.

It did force his heartbeat to slow down after a while. Let him take deeper breaths as the worst jagged edges in his mind were slightly smoothed and body made to relax. He was suddenly so tired. So, so wrung out that not even the screaming pain in his side could keep his eyes from slipping closed. The bucket was gently taken from his hands.

"Jaskier, I need to check your wound," Geralt said.

"Nnh."

"I have to."

Geralt wished he could let Jaskier to just lie back down and go to sleep. It looked like the tiniest breeze would make him keel over. He didn't know how long the first panic attack —flashback, whatever it had been— had been going on before he had arrived but it definitely had been for far too long, Jaskier completely lost in his head and Priscilla having no idea how to help. The second one triggered before the first had even passed only made everything worse.

"...Mmhmm…" Jaskier assented, not lifting his head or moving at all.

It was eerie. Still, better than the blinding panic and radiating pain of earlier.

"I'll grab the supplies and then start. Could you lift your shirt for me?" Geralt requested, retrieving the bag quickly and without looking away. He had almost given up on Jaskier doing so when he finally tugged his chemise up enough to reveal the bandaging.

No visible bleeding. Good.

"How bad is the pain?" Geralt asked. When there was no answer, he switched the wording. "Is the pain worse?"

"Mmhmm."

It wasn't surprising that Jaskier either didn't have the energy or capacity to speak at the moment.

"I'll start unwinding the bandage now," Geralt said, giving Jaskier time to protest.

When there wasn't any sound or gesture he started. The wound did look agitated and redder than last time but thankfully nothing had opened or oozed blood. All he had to do was a quick clean and add a little more of the cream Shani had left with them before wrapping a fresh bandage around Jaskier's middle.

Jaskier let go of his chemise the moment Geralt finished. It was the only movement.

"You need to drink at least a little," Geralt said, switching the medical supplies for a mug. It took a while before Jaskier accepted it with a shaking hand and even longer for him to take the offered painkiller afterward.

"Lie down," Geralt said, grabbing the vial midair as Jaskier simply let go after finishing. There was another lengthy pause before Jaskier gingerly lowered himself and turned his face away from him. It made his heart ache in a far too familiar way. "Jaskier, you're safe. Everything is alright no matter how it feels right now. No one is going to do anything to you and Priscilla isn't angry with you."

Jaskier's breathing hitched but it was the only reaction. Not that there was any sense trying to have any kind of a conversation and definitely not about what had happened. Jaskier wouldn't accept the words, would likely only spiral more. The calming potion only helped the symptoms instead of curing anything.

Rest was the most important thing for now in any case.

"Go to sleep. I'll watch over you," Geralt said gently, wishing he could take away all the fear and pain.

There was no response.

It took a long time before Jaskier's heartbeat and breathing finally slowed to those of sleep. Geralt stayed still where he was sitting against a wall, not taking his eyes off of Jaskier. He didn't want to miss even the slightest sign of nightmares, wouldn't let Jaskier suffer them after everything.

He fucking hated how something had again gone wrong while he was away. Returning to such scenes made him want to not leave Jaskier's side for a second. It wasn't possible or healthy for either of them but that didn't change the fact. Jaskier didn't deserve any of what was done to him, didn't deserve the pain he went through, and him being there made things easier to handle for Jaskier.

And if he was by Jaskier's side, he could protect him from more harm. He'd rather die than let someone hurt Jaskier yet again.

Geralt took a deep breath and fished out a few short sticks from his pocket. Snapping them into pieces didn't help much with the burning rage swirling in his chest. Fucking Lambert and his fucking useless suggestions.

He wanted to snap Suzanna's bones like sticks. Start with the hands that had grabbed and hurt Jaskier.

There hadn't yet been any word of when her trial would be held. Having one was the right thing but it still felt like a waste of time, her fate almost certainly sealed despite the hym's influence. At least it also meant that no one from the guard had yet to come knocking and demand a statement from Jaskier. Maybe he should ask if a written one would suffice. That should be easier on Jaskier than having to recount everything to a stranger.

There was the faintest knock on the door, more akin to someone briefly tapping a finger on it. Quiet enough to ensure Jaskier wouldn't have heard it even if he had been awake. Having a good idea of who was requesting him, Geralt got up and walked to the door with silent feet.

"Be as quiet as you can," Geralt whispered as he opened the door just enough to see Priscilla, getting a nod.

"How is he?" Priscilla asked, voice more of a breath than whisper and trying to see past him.

"Sleeping."

"Good." There was an awkward pause before she said, "I don't know what triggered him the first time. He started to suddenly cry while we had been peacefully coexisting. …But I did make it worse…"

Priscilla looked like she was about to start crying herself, her already red rimmed eyes welling up and lips trembling. She probably had never seen someone having such a breakdown as Jaskier had had. Definitely not someone she loved.

It was still hard not to snarl and slam the door on her.

"What did you do?" Geralt asked through his teeth.

"Approached him. I was worried."

An innocuous thing. Something he too could have done without a second thought. He had to focus on relaxing his jaw and not balling his fists.

"He sat up so fast and threw a book at me. It was on the nightstand next to him," Priscilla said, rubbing her sternum where a red spot was spreading from underneath her neckline. She had probably been hit much harder than she had admitted, Jaskier definitely able to pack a punch when driven to a point of reflexive self-defense. It was good to know what exactly they meant by Jaskier having hurt her.

"I didn't try after that. I didn't know what to do. Was completely useless," Priscilla said, wiping her eyes. "Is Jaskier… Will he be alright? I've never seen… I've heard of people… You and Jaskier told me that he's not well but…"

"With time," Geralt said, deciding on honesty. There was no use in offering empty reassurances. "I have no idea how long it'll take. He was already struggling and this on top of it… It's fucking bad."

Priscilla let out a choked sound, looking at the floor as tears finally fell.

"Jaskier is resilient. He bends, not breaks," Geralt said, glancing at Jaskier before focusing on Priscilla again. Resting his hand on her shoulder he said, "You didn't cause this. Jaskier had probably been clinging on to any shred of control until he was feeling mostly safe. The clinic wasn't that to him."

He too needed to remind himself that Priscilla hadn't been the reason for Jaskier's breakdown. She didn't deserve any animosity.

"He thinks I'm safe?" Priscilla asked, desperate hope in her eyes.

"I'm sure."

"He was so terrified of me, begged me not to kill him," Priscilla said, swallowing painfully as tears ran faster down her cheeks. "He really thought I'd murder him."

"It was probably a flashback. When Jaskier has one it's like he's reliving the memory. He's not reacting to what's going on around him, only to what happened." It felt strange being the one explaining. All those months he and Jaskier had been the ones learning what was happening and why.

"...Oh…"

"How badly are you hurt?" Geralt asked, lowering his voice even more. He didn't want any chance of Jaskier hearing this part of the conversation in case he suddenly woke up from the deep slumber.

"What?"

"Jaskier threw a book at you. I can see where it hit."

Priscilla looked down at her chest and tried to tug the neckline higher to cover all of the red skin. "It's going to bruise, nothing more."

"Don't minimize it. Maybe it's just a bruise but Jaskier did hurt you," Geralt said sharply. He got enough playing down to deal with without her joining in.

"He did," Priscilla mumbled, grip on her shirt tightening. "Because of the flashback, right? Not because of who I am?"

Geralt moved his hand to rest between Priscilla's shoulder blades and drew her to his chest. She immediately hugged him back, pressing her forehead to his shoulder as her tears dampened his shirt. "He didn't even know it was you. If he had been aware of what was going on, he'd never have hurt you. It shouldn't have happened at all."

"...Does he do it often?" Priscilla asked, hold tightening.

Shit. Having one of your dearest friends trying to hurt you had to be frightening on top of everything else that had happened. Some innkeeper getting punched after grabbing Jaskier or Lambert getting kicked was one thing, Priscilla getting hit by a book just for trying to approach was another.

"No. It's really rare. This was the third time he has done anything physical to protect himself while having an attack." The time Jaskier had accidentally pushed him while backed into a corner and trying to get away didn't count.

"That's not too bad…" Priscilla said slowly. "He scared me. He threw the book before there was anything else visibly wrong than him crying and he has done that around me before. It took me completely off-guard. Then everything kept devolving and I had absolutely no idea what was happening or what I should have done."

"You did good," Geralt said honestly.

"How?" Priscilla asked incredulously, breaking the hug to be able to look Geralt in the eye.

"You stayed mostly calm, didn't yell at Jaskier even for the book which would have been a normal reaction," Geralt said. "Not going to him after it was clear he wouldn't be able to do anything to you was the right decision too. Him recognizing that someone was next to him would only have triggered him more."

Priscilla took a deep shuddering breath and wiped at her slowing tears, a resolute expression forming. "If that happens again, what should I do to help? Not making things worse isn't enough."

"Call for me."

"And if you're not available?"

"You saw a bit of what I did before leaving. Giving Jaskier something not part of the memories by talking is the best since touching is absolutely out of the question. Keep repeating that he's safe, encourage him to look around and list what's around him, and to feel his beads. Those are the basic ways to try to draw him out of an attack," Geralt said. "I guess you could try singing something familiar to him."

"Is that why Jaskier is wearing necklaces now?" Priscilla asked.

"Hmmm. He's grown to like them, though."

It was less awkward to explain things than he'd have thought. Although, after Priscilla witnessing such an all encompassing flashback there wasn't much to be done about it anyway. She needed to understand what had happened.

"That's good. Is there—" Priscilla cut herself off when Geralt shook his head.

"Someone is about to come up the stairs," Geralt said. "We can continue later. I'll also let you know when Jaskier is feeling up to talking with you. It may take some time."

"I'll wait for as long as he needs to. Just, please tell him that I'm not angry, hold a grudge, or am hurt," Priscilla said, "and that I love him and nothing will change it."

"I will."

"And Geralt? Don't blame yourself. For anything," Priscilla said seriously.

"Hmmm."

That was an impossible order.