Try, Please Try For Me

Why So Blue?

"Well the healer did have to get the arrow out."

A brief image of someone pulling an arrow out of him and rummaging around his insides flicks into Jaskier's head and he grimaces. "Glad I wasn't awake for that." He pauses, then says, "How long was I asleep for anyway?"

"Four days," Geralt replies.

"Hng, fuck."

The witcher nods in agreement. "Here," he says, grabbing a cup from a table that's next to the bed. "You should drink some water."

Jaskier nods weakly and Geralt carefully helps him up into a somewhat seated position, then holds the cup to his lips. As soon as the water hits him he realizes how unbelievably parched he is, and he drinks until the cup is empty.

Now sitting up, Jaskier can see that he is definitely not in some room they rented at an inn.

The room is large and circular with an impossibly high ceiling. There's a subtle ring pattern on both the walls and ceiling that makes him feel as if he's inside a giant tree. Over to the side, there's an archway that opens into a balcony, where dappled light is pouring through and speckling the floor. The bed he's lying on has crisp white sheets, but the bed frame looks to be made entirely out of woven tree branches.

"Where are we?"

Geralt sighs and then carefully says, "the Faerie realm."

"Fucking what!?" Jaskier jolts and he immediately regrets it when searing pain rips across his body. Geralt is there right away, pressing his shoulders back against the pillows to hold him still and running a soothing hand up and down his forearm.

Jaskier waits for the pain to fade and collects himself, letting the information sink in. Holy shit. He's in Faerie. With other fae. He can finally have the answer to every question about himself he's ever had. This is more than he could ever dream of-- this is--

He runs a hand through his hair in disbelief and freezes when his fingers brush something that most definitely was not there before. It's hard and smooth. Jaskier carefully feels around it and discovers it's attached to his head, then moves his hand up along the ridge and--

His eyes go wide. "G-Geralt? I have...I have..."

"Horns," Geralt finishes.

"H- horns," Jaskier says. "I have horns."

"And blue skin."

"Blue--" Jaskier's blood stills and he lifts a hand to his eyes. It's blue. It's fucking blue. A bright peacock blue that slowly fades as it travels down his arm, completely paling by the time it reaches his elbow.

What the fuck?

"Geralt why do I have horns? Why is my skin blue? And why are we in Faerie?"

He's breathing fast. It hurts but he can't stop.

Geralt takes hold of his hand and grips it firmly. "Okay, I'm going to explain everything, but you need to stay calm, Jask."

"Calm?" Calm. Yes, he can do that. A sound that's a cross between a squeak and a hysterical laugh comes out of Jaskier's throat. "I'm completely calm."

Geralt gives him a look.

"Well I'm sorry but this is kind of a lot to process."

The witcher makes an expression as though Jaskier had struck him across the face. He looks down. "I'm sorry, Jaskier, I--"

"No, it's okay-- just- just start from the beginning."

Geralt takes a deep breath, and holds Jaskier's gaze for a few moments before he starts. "You remember what happened with your wound...the black lines?"