The Witcher One Shots

Sleepless in Kaer Morhen (Geraskier kinda) (Angst/Fluff)

Jaskier had spent four nights in Kaer Morhen, and every night, he'd wander around the halls, anxious about sleeping in a new place, not that he'd need to be, he's surrounded by Witchers of course, but something just felt off, maybe it was because of the previous struggle with Rience, or maybe being hunted by Redanians. Jaskier tiptoes down the halls, making his way to the grand hall, where the tree with medallions stood. He was curious, he'd heard Geralt mention the tree a few times, but he didn't think it'd be so, dead. He'd thought Geralt meant a living tree, one outside on the Kaer grounds.

"Gods why does this place have to be so spooky." Jaskier mutters to himself, using a half-melted candle to light his way and pulling his blanket around to cover more of his exposed arm. Why did it always have to be freezing? Jaskier could feel himself shaking, from the cold or the anxiety he couldn't tell.

The sound of rats could be heard from afar, which meant he wasn't far from the grand hall. Thank Gods. He wanted to sit by a fire and admire the tree. Jaskier wanted to ask someone what the tree was for, why there were so many medallions hanging from it, what the tradition behind it was, but unfortunately the Witchers weren't very friendly to him. Vesemir wasn't cold, but surely wasn't too happy about having a 'yappy bard' in his words, at the secret Witcher fortress, the others, Coen, Lambert and Eskel outright made fun of his garish style and songs and Geralt said nothing. The only friend he really had here was Yennefer, and she was too busy with Ciri that Jaskier was entirely alone. And so alone he stayed, making himself scarce as to not be a bother to any of the people staying here. Sure, he was a bit lonely, but it's better than being made a fool.

Jaskier admired the structure of the building. How well it's held up considering the climates up north. He glanced around, and carefully tugged his blanket around himself, making sure he was covered. He was staring at the fire when he heard someone's footsteps gently stepping down the hall. Too heavy to be Yen or Ciri, but too light to be Vesemir, and too slow to be Lambert or Coen. Geralt or Eskel then. Great. The Witcher who left him in Caingorn, or the Witcher who is generally an arse. He couldn't decide who he wanted to come down that hall the least.

Jaskier moved away from the hall, attempting to hide himself but not going out of his way. He was too cold to care enough.

"Jaskier." Ah. Geralt. "Jaskier are you alright?" The white haired Witcher came into the room, seeing Jaskier curled in a ball a small distance from the fire.

"Geralt, why are you awake, I thought I was alone." Jaskier said, once again pulling on the blanket, not out of being cold, just wanted to hide himself.

"I came to check on you, I heard you get up."

"I'm fine, Geralt, you can go back to bed. I just wanted to warm up a little." The bard lied, but he didn't want to bother Geralt.

Geralt walked over to Jaskier, sitting next to him by the fire. The pair sat in silence for what felt like eternity.

Geralt broke that silence, "I haven't seen you around. Where have you been going?"

"I just stay in my room, you're busy usually, and Yennefer is training Ciri, so I don't want to be a nuisance." The bard shivered; this time actually having been cold.

Geralt noticed and invited him closer to the fire as the bard looked worriedly into the flames, "Jask, you're not a nuisance, you're my friend."

That's not what you thought in Caingorn. Jaskier thought bitterly. He'd thought he had let those feelings go, but being here, seeing Geralt be happy with his family, it put salt in the still open wound.

"Yes, I suppose you're right. I should go back to bed." Jaskier sighed, getting off the cold stone floor, and attempting to walk away.

"Jaskier wait." Geralt said, reaching after him, grabbing his blanket, tugging it out of the bard's grasp, revealing cuts, bruises and burns along the bard's bare chest, "What happened?" Geralt looked upon the burns and cuts and felt an anger growing in his chest.

"Nothing, just an accident." Jaskier tried to brush it off, he thought Yennefer told Geralt about Rience, but apparently not.

"Those aren't accidents Jaskier, I'm not daft." Geralt's voice shifted to concern, a tone Jaskier had only heard once before, with the Djinn.

"I'm fine. I don't want to talk about it." The bard went to grab his blanket from Geralt, but the Witcher moved away.

"Jask, what happened to you?" Geralt's voice faltered a bit.

Jaskier grunted, "I was tortured on your behalf by a Nilfgaardian sorcerer by the name of Rience. Is that what you wanted to hear?" Jaskier angrily spoke, reaching for the blanket and yanking it from the Witcher's hand.

Geralt stood for a second, shocked at the information he received. Who would torture Jaskier. He hadn't seen me in months.

"That's because of me?" Geralt muttered, attempting to close off his emotions before they could get too far and failing.

"Geralt-" Jaskier's voice trailed off, before he realized he couldn't salvage this. Geralt was angry and there was no way to calm him down.

"Rience." Geralt finally uttered, "Rience will pay for this. I'll make him pay." Geralt told his best friend.

Jaskier sits back down next to Geralt, noticing the sadness in his eyes.

"Geralt, it wasn't your fault." Jaskier said, his voice cracking a little, "You don't control Nilfgaard or Rience, you couldn't have known."

"I could've if I hadn't pushed you away in Caingorn." Geralt bluntly grumbled, "If I had been there, I'd have been able to stop him. I would've been able to keep you safe."

Jaskier was silent. Geralt was right, he's rarely wrong. Geralt had left him in Caingorn, and if Jaskier had been with Geralt, Rience likely wouldn't have gotten to him. But he did. And there's no point in lingering on it now.

Jaskier looked into the fire, reliving those tormenting moments. That's why he couldn't sleep. Not because of being in a new place, because if he closed his eyes, he'd experience those moments again. He'd be back in that tavern, tied to that chair, bleeding and burning. The fire danced around the logs, sending the occasional ember onto the stone floor. The burning in Jaskier's hand came back. His eyes swelled with tears.

"Geralt-" He faltered, "Geralt." The Witcher turned to look him in the eye, "Promise me something." A tear fell down Jaskier's face, "Promise me he'll never get to me again."

Geralt closed his eyes, keeping the tears at bay, before opening them once more and pulling Jaskier into a hug, "I promise Rience will never hurt you again."

The bard melted into Geralt's arms, quietly sobbing into his shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Julian." Geralt mumbled, "I'm sorry that I wasn't there, and I'm sorry that I hurt you. Forgive me."

Jaskier, slightly shocked at the mention of his real name, pulled away, and covered himself with the blanket once more. 

"Good night, Geralt." He said, getting up and going back to his room and drinking some Toussaint red to help him sleep.

~~~

That morning Geralt and Ciri were up training before the sun had risen, and Jaskier was hungover. He'd gotten carried away with the liquor last night.

Yennefer barged into his room, telling him to come out to the grand hall.

"Jaskier let's go! I don't have all day!" Yennefer complained, as she snapped her fingers.

Jaskier, hungover and tired, reluctantly got out of bed and put on his white blouse as he walked out of his room.

Yennefer dragged him through the halls and to the grand hall, where he found Geralt and Ciri sitting at one of the tables, shuffling cards, Barrel cards.

Jaskier sat next to Geralt, across from Ciri.

"You don't have to make yourself scarce Jask. You're our family too. Besides, Ciri needed a break. Up for a game of Barrel?" Geralt asked, patting Jaskier on the back.

"Jaskier, if you ever need someone to relax with, I will!" Ciri smiled, taking some cards Geralt passed to her, as Yennefer sat down.

The group of four sat around, drinking ale and playing Barrel until nightfall, when the hugged and went to bed. Jaskier tugged the covers over himself, smiling, finally feeling like he could sleep.