Imagine if Jaskier got kidnapped by fae while he was busking waiting for Geralt to come back from a contract.
The bard thinks this is it for him. That he will be whisked away at the young, young age of 24, never to be seen or heard from again. His poor witcher, poor Roach, never knowing what had happened to him, fruitlessly searching for years and years—
Jaskier almost snorts at that, clutching his lute to his chest a little tighter as he is rather forcefully guided into a…nursery? With a rather tempestuous infant, wow, the lungs on the thing almost make Jaskier jealous—
“Play. Sing.”
Jaskier blinks, looking between the lanky fae with large, black eyes who had kidnapped him, to the slightly slimmer fae holding the screeching baby.
Oh. Oh.
Jaskier was quick to softly strum the beginning chords to one of the few lullabies he knew, and from there, he let his fingers and voice take over. He wasn’t sure how long he played, wasn’t able to tell time with the strange double sun thing going on wherever he’d been taken to, but Jaskier’s fingers felt like they were going to start bleeding by the time the little devil finally settled.
Jaskier almost relaxed, and likely would have, if it wasn’t for the hand now on his shoulder guiding him out of the room.
“You are the first bard to have success in lulling our young to sleep. We will come for you if we have need for you again.”
Jaskier stumbled through the portal he was—well, frankly, rather gently shoved through all things considered, and found himself back in his room at the inn. Which, he’d not been in before, and he had no clue how the fae knew where he was staying, what the—
Jaskier took one staggering step to his bed, managed to semi-carefully set his lute on the floor, and promptly passed out.
~•~
It happened several more times, that Jaskier was kidnapped for a private performance. The bard probably should have told the witcher, but well, he knew how the man felt about anything magical in nature. Plus, he wasn’t sure how Geralt would fare against the fae, and he wasn’t about to risk the witcher’s health when he wasn’t actually being hurt.
(Okay, and maybe he felt a little bit bad for the fae. They might not be the same species, but surely the dark splotches under their eyes were a universal sign of exhaustion. Not to mention the parents (probably? Hopefully?) looked so relieved every time their baby fell asleep, that Jaskier felt too guilty to say anything. Melitele help him, it’s not his fault he had a heart!)
The little one grew rather quickly, til one day, the bard was grabbed through a portal to find the young toddler…already sleeping?
“Your music is no longer required.”
Oh. Okay, that was—good. So why…?
“In return for your service, you shall be blessed with the ability to put to sleep whosoever you desire.”
…hang on, what?
“What do you—”
“Thank you, bard.”
Jaskier shuddered at the feeling of…buzzing, within him. It felt like eating something so cold it burned your mouth, sending strange tingles all over his body, and by the time he recovered he was once more back in his room.
Well frick.
He really should have told Geralt about this. The witcher was never going to let him live this down when he found out.
Well.
Hmmm…
If, he found out.
The bard grinned
If was good.
Jaskier almost jumped as Geralt came through the door, covered in Drowner guts and with a scowl on his face. Jaskier watched the wolf medallion as the the witcher took his armor off, exhaling shakily as he plastered a smile on his face and started rambling about the lovely barmaid downstairs.
The medallion wasn’t shaking, so clearly everything was fine. No need to worry the witcher uselessly. The weird tingling feeling was probably nothing.
…definitely nothing.
~•~
It wasn’t until Jaskier was patching Geralt up two months later, the witcher flinching violently against his will every time Jaskier came close to the gaping wound he was trying to stitch, that Jaskier realized what that tingly feeling had been.
“Geralt, I know you can’t help it, but—”
“Bard, just get it over with! They don’t need to be neat—”
“You have enough jagged scars! I’m just trying to—”
“Get on with it!”
“Alright, alright! Melitele’s sake, someone needs to sleep—wha—Geralt!”
Jaskier grunted, holding onto the witcher tightly and guiding him to the forest floor. That was…had Geralt just passed out?! Yes, he’d lost a decent amount of blood, but nowhere near enough to make the man lose consciousness. At least, not enough for a witcher to lose consciousness.
And he’d not even been slurring his words, Jaskier thought, hurrying to finish the stitches in his now slack patient. It was such a strange reaction, almost like—
Jaskier froze, looking down at the bandages in his hands. No. It couldn’t be.
The bard cursed under his breath.
“Okay, no need to panic, we’re not panicking. Just a little nap, it’s fine,all fine! Please be fine. Please wake up—”
The witcher bolted into a sitting position, hand reaching for a sword as Jaskier threw his arms around Geralt, being careful to avoid the stitches in the man’s lower back.
“You just—just fainted, and I—”
Geralt hummed, awkwardly patting Jaskier before gently pushing him away as the bard wiped tears from his eyes.
“We should get moving.”
Jaskier blinked. Did…did Geralt not realize what had happened? He seemed…embarrassed, almost, like he didn’t want to talk about it with Jaskier. Which was…okay, Jaskier wouldn’t want to talk about it either if he passed out, he didn’t exactly blame the witcher for wanting to stay silent.
The bard hurried to wrap the man’s wound, cleaning up the supplies he’d used afterwards. This was his chance to come clean, to finally confess everything, but…what would Geralt say? Would the witcher ever trust him again, if he knew he could knock the man out with his words? Maybe even just a thought?
No, Jaskier shook his head as he placed the medical bag back over Roach’s haunch. Better if Geralt never knew. Jaskier couldn’t bear the thought of the witcher leaving him, all because of a gift he’d never asked for.
He’d just…never use it. It was fine. The witcher never needed to know.
~•~
Okay, so Jaskier had used it once or twice over the years. But only for good reasons! Like when Geralt was fishing for a Djinn, or those robbers had tried to take his lute, and that one time the woman’s husband came back early and looked like he wanted to skin Jaskier alive—
Okay, mostly good reasons.
Jaskier peaked out from underneath the table at the chaos that was currently happening outside. He could see what looked like a basilisk head, maybe, as well as what looked like an arm.
…just, an arm.
This…seemed like a very good reason.
Melitele help him he was going to get himself killed, one of those horrible creatures was going to eat him, he was going to—
“Cirilla, sleep!”
And—oh, thank you thank you thank you, he did not think that was going to work, oh he needed to figure out how to send those fae a thank you gift, really—
Jaskier blinked, realizing that while he’d been busy mentally recovering from all of…that, everyone now had their eyes on him. Including Geralt, who was carrying a passed out princess, a flabbergasted Yennefer, and far too many witchers eyeing him skeptically. Which, okay, rude, but fair.
“Well, looks like you’ve got this settled! I’m just going to—”
“Jaskier.”
“Oh come now, Geralt, surely this conversation can wait until morning? I—okay, yeah, not a Doppleganger,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes at the silver sword that he carefully pushed away from his neck. “It’s honestly just a small gift, nothing to worry about!”
“Gift?” One of the witchers growled, eyes narrowed.
“I mean, kind of? I didn’t ask for it, and I can’t get rid of it I don’t think, so I’m not sure if that’s the right word for it. I think the fae called it a blessing, actually—”
Jaskier flinched back at the chorus of swearing that filled the room. Honestly, what was—
“You’re telling me you met a fae, and that instead of—of dying a gruesome death, or just being whisked off to their kingdom to be their pet, you received a blessing?!”
Jaskier stared at Yennefer, who looked…well, quite frankly, even more bedraggled. And suddenly, he realized he might have been very, very lucky, if the expression on her face was anything to go by. But, honestly, the panic could wait, he wanted to see how badly that left eye of hers could twitch.
“They needed a bard, and I have and always will be an excellent performer. Honestly, the first time was a bit scary—”
“First time?”
“—but after that it was very…well, boring, quite frankly. They were rather polite, but not the best conversationalists, unfortunately.” Jaskier pouted a bit, wondering once again why he always seemed to end up with the quiet ones. “The two suns thing was honestly the most interesting part of the whole affair.”
“Hang on, you—”
“Two suns—”
“You saw—”
Jaskier faked a yawn, which then turned into a real one as he realized he actually was, in fact, quite tired.
“As lovely as this has been, I think I’ll be finding my way back to my bed now. And don’t worry about her—” Jaskier gestured to the princess. “She won’t wake up until I want her to.”
And—yes, those wary glares were back now. Hm. Not ideal, truly, to be on the receiving end of such looks in a witcher’s keep, but there wasn’t much he could do about it right now.
He’d panic about it in the morning.
Maybe even write a ballad about it! The princess doomed to slumber, all because of the Deathless Mother…
Yes, yes, there definitely was something there…
