Jaskier wakes up the the frantic twittering of birds; a little loud and nearby for his taste but the wildlife does what the wildlife wants and Jaskierâs just living in their jungle. Well, forest really, but who cares for logistics? Certainly not him as he stretches, back popping and foot nudging something small and solid as it does everyâ
Small and solid? Thatâs not something that happens every morning. Jaskierâs eyes pop open as he sits up abruptly, cool morning air making his arms raise with goose flesh. He blinks to clear his sleep-bleary eyes, squinting at the lump at the end of his bedroll. It looks feathery and solid andâ Jaskier nudges it with his foot so that it rolls and, oh, oh yep, yep thatâs a bird! There is a dead bird at the end of his bedroll how lovely.
Geralt comes back to camp to find Jaskier pacing around and peering at the open canopy of the clearing with a confused frown on his face. âLooking for something?â
âOh! Oh, no, no, I was just...â Jaskier clears his throat, hands on his hips and hair still wild from sleep, âAhem, breakfast?â He nods his head at the fire that he rekindled and has the bird roasting over, the scents of its dripping fat sizzling on the logs making the Witchers mouth water.
âGeralt, did that kikimore seem... bigger, than the last one you faced?â
Jaskier frowns at the response and falls unusually silent as he thinks. The dead birdsâ and sometimes squirrels or other rodents, most notably so far was a raccoonâ have continued to appear at the end of his bedroll every few mornings. To say Jaskier has been alarmed is an understatement. Heâs start considering that perhaps heâs sleep killing them, but how on earth Jaskier would have picked up the skills required to hunt wild game while asleep is a mystery. Maybe from watching Geralt? He doubts it, but itâs his best lead so far.
The other odd thing heâs noticed recently is that Geralt has been taking contracts for larger and larger beasts. Not that he didnât take them for gargantuan monsters before, but the big contracts were usually interspersed with smaller, safer ones. But now heâs just getting exponentially larger, with no smaller contracts between. No more contracted drowners, no foglets, hell not even a nekker or two.
Jaskierâs started losing hair from stress. Which is a whole other problem.
The kikimore that Geralt just faced downâ and won, thank the gods, Jaskier wasnât ready to watch his best friend and love of his life die just yetâ was the biggest beast to date. Ten feet tall and with tits to match, the monster genuinely made Jaskier feel fear. And for himself, too! Usually heâs just scared for Geraltâs well-being but this monolith seemed like it might have an appetite for lanky bards in addition to brick shithouse witchers.
They skip through the next few towns, Geralt stating that there were no contracts, until they reach a tiny hamlet with a posting for an ice giant.
Geralt rips off the contract and goes to find the alderman.
Jaskier is losing his mind.
The dead wildlife keep appearing, the contracts keep growing, the money piles up and heâs just found a dagger stuck in the cover of a brand new notebook. If this isnât a threat then Jaskier is a terrible bard and should really relearn what life threats look like. He also isnât quite sure who heâs pissed off this time, as he spends nearly all of his free time with Geralt, but it appears that someone has found him lacking and is making their opinions on his continued clinging to life very well known.
Jaskier is pacing anxiously when Geralt comes into their rented room, the dagger in one hand and the pierced notebook in the other. The Witcher glances down at them and his lips twitch up as he opens his mouth to speak when Jaskier spots him and rushes over.
âDo you know what I found, Geralt?â Jaskier knows his voice is a little shrill right now, but he thinks he deserves a smidge of hysteria after the months heâs been having. âDo you? Because I know exactly what this is. This-this-this has gone on for far too long!â
âI agree,â Geralt nods sagely and Jaskier splutters.
âYou-you agree? So youâve known about this the entire time?â
Jaskier throws his hands in the air, only narrowly missing shaving the end of his own nose off with the sharp blade, âThen why havenât you done anything about it?â
âI have been?â Geralt frowns in confusion, cocking his head adorably like a puppy in that way of his that always makes Jaskier want toâ stop. Focus, Jaskier.
âYou have been? Have you been dispatching vagabonds and neâerdowells behind my back? Why wouldnât you just tell me about it?â
Geraltâs confused frown deepens, âVagabonds and neâerdowells? Jaskier, what are you talking about?â
âThe threats, of course! The threats on my life! Thereâs been dead animals showing up on my bed for weeks now, Geralt! And it all makes sense, now that I know that you knew about this, why you kept taking larger and larger contracts. So youâd have enough money to set me up somewhere safe and, Geralt, while I truly do appreciate the thought, I cannot stress enough how much safer I feel in your presence than when Iâm across the continent from you.
âAnd this! This was the final straw!â He shakes the notebook in Geraltâs face, âA dagger, right through it! It looks just like my songbook, pierced through its bleeding heart with no blood yet to stain its pages. It has to be a threat!â
Jaskier finally looks at Geralt and is mildly alarmed to see that the witcherâs cheeks have gone a pleasant dusty pink as he fiddles with his fingers. âWhat is it, Geralt? Are you okay? Youâre looking a bit peeky.â
âI, uhââ Geralt clears his throat uncomfortably as he scratches the side of his neck, âThey arenât death threats, Jask. Iâ Um... I was trying to court you.â
âYou were doing what?â
âTrying to court you...â
âTrying to court... me?â
âDonât sound so surprised,â Geralt grumbles, digging his hands deep into his pockets as he glares at the ground.
Jaskier is quiet for a few moment before walking closer, boot heels clicking on the wooden floors. He slips one finger under Geraltâs chin and tips the witcherâs head up to look into golden eyes.
âThen I suppose Iâll have to court you right back. And the first step of bardic courting is kissing the man whoâs been courting you while you had a paranoia induced breakdown.â
