Jaskier wasn't asleep. But he wasn't awake either. He was lost.
There was this indescribable emptiness all around him and inside of him as well. He didn't feel tired. He didn't feel pain. He didn't feel. It was a new thing, such that has never happened to him before, but he wasn't even curious anymore. At least not enough to really think about what was happening.
It was calm but unsettling at the same time. It was like with every moment he was trying to go somewhere, but he couldn't, so instead his soul was wandering in the empty space before that. Eventually, the calm didn't feel that calm anymore. It just felt wrong.
There was something missing. Something didn't fit. He was supposed to walk. He was walking, wasn't he? He was walking towards something. At first, he didn't know that, but now, when he didn't find it, he finally knew. Something was supposed to be here. And he couldn't leave without it. He couldn't go further. And without moving further, he would stop. And with stopping, he would fade.
He opened his eyes.
He could now see, that he was laying in a bed in a dark room illuminated by the moon outside its window and by flames of a fire burning inside of the hearth. There was a familiar unicorn statue on the table at the window and a dark shape sitting on a rug by the hearth. He took a deep breath and saw yellow eyes open wide. The witcher got up in one smooth motion and immediately he stood next to the bed.
"Zima?" asked the rough familiar voice and the unicorn blinked. He remembered that man. He tried to swallow but found his throat too dry. Immediately there was a hand supporting his back as he sat up and then a cup was held to his face, so he drank.
"Silverhair. So that wasn't a dream," said Jaskier as he looked at the old witcher.
"It wasn't. Lambert found you halfway up the trail. You're at Kaer Morhen," nodded silverhair and Jaskier felt his lips lift a little in a semblance of a smile. Weird. It was so long that he was almost sure he forgot how to do that.
"You raised your cubs well, Vesemir," he said after that, remnants of long-forgotten mirth in his eyes. It felt wrong, the lone fragment of something in the emptiness.
"Of course you knew," smiled the old witcher as he blinked and then sighed.
"I figured it out over the years," he nodded as Vesemir slowly sat on the ground next to the bed.
"I didn't raise them that well. If I did, you wouldn't be here like this right now," the old man rubbed his face and Jaskier could see the worry etched into his features.
"Oh, no more of that. That is not your fault, and you know it. If there is anyone to blame then it would be me, not you my friend," the unicorn shook his head, before sliding down to lie once again. It was his fault after all, for giving his heart away like that when he knew how dangerous it is. But he couldn't help himself, could he? Love was, after all, not something a man nor unicorn could stop.
He felt the silver tears flowing again and did nothing to stop them.