So this is the first installment of my Oceans Away series. The name is probably going to change, but we'll see.
This is written for Camp NaNoWriMo, which I am still trying to figure out considering it's my first time participating. This quarantine and the added challenge is really getting my lazy ass to actually write something. The plot for this series is mostly thought out at this point, and a lot of it is already written.
I hope you all enjoy this!
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"Anywhere, anytime,
I would do anything for you
Anything for you
Yesterday got away
Melodies stuck inside your head
A song in every breath
Sing me to sleep now
Sing me to sleep
Won't you sing me to sleep now?
Sing me to sleep."
~ Sing Me to Sleep, Alan Walker
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Jaskier was no stranger to the ocean. In fact, if he could, he would bed himself alongside the waves, allow them to wash over him and swallow him into its calm embrace. He loved standing amongst the tides, letting the water pool at his feet, raise to knees, bathe him. Jaskier was no stranger to the ocean. He adored it.
Jaskier loved staring into bodies of water, whether it be the ocean itself, or a stream, a lake, a canyon…He loved seeing his reflection staring back at him. Not because he was some kind of narcissist - no, definitely not - but because it just made sense to him, seeing himself in the glistening water. If Jaskier could be anything, it'd be water. Water was just as emotional as he was, so feeling and energetic. When the water was calm, it was still, gentle, quiet. When the water turned angry, it raged, crashed, and roared. When the water cried, it dripped from the sky, or it flooded towns. It gently lapped at the shores, ebbed and flowed.
To Jaskier, nothing in the world could be more beautiful than the ocean.
Then along came Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf. Geralt somehow managed to be everything yet showing nothing at all. He became the black to Jaskier's white, the story to Jaskier's words, the rhythm to Jaskier's songs, and the night to Jaskier's moon. Everything special about Jaskier was emboldened by Geralt.
Jaskier had his talents, no one ever doubted that. Even so, Jaskier could admit that he'd been a hopeless bard before Geralt came along (maybe that line about hoping a wife would get an abortion wasn't the best thing he'd come up with), but his lute skills were undeniable. Jaskier knew his way around the strings, kept his fingers nimble and quick. Jaskier radiated talent, but what was music without his muse?
Jaskier watched the fire flicker in front of him, the soft outline of Geralt's sleeping form on the other side just barely visible in the night. For as bright as the fire shined, it couldn't reach the witcher, not when the man had placed himself far from the source of heat, and especially since the armor he insisted on sleeping in camouflaged with the darkness. Jaskier gave a soft sigh, shaking his head lightly.
These kinds of nights were so dreadfully boring. The nights where he couldn't sleep, enough to the point that, somehow, Geralt - the man who never fucking slept - managed to succumb to blessed rest before him. Now he had no one to talk to, to shoot the shit with. Not that Geralt really offered that in the first place, but it was the principle of the situation that really mattered.
Jaskier closed his eyes, exhaling quietly through his nose. He wasn't an arse, though. Just because he couldn't sleep, it didn't mean he was going to be bitter and cause a ruckus, effectively waking up his companion, who, quite frankly, desperately needed his rest because only the Gods knew when Geralt would finally get the peace he deserved. He leaned his head against the tree behind him, ears tuning into the forest sounds. Maybe the chatter of the nightlife and earth would lull him into slumber.
Distantly, he heard a fox slinking around, leaves barely crunching underneath soft paws. The fox only seemed to be getting further, however, likely avoiding their campsite. Raccoons scurried up tree trunks. Jaskier let himself grin, hearing a few coyotes howl in the distance. Now he knew what the raccoons were hiding from. Jaskier didn't let himself feel fear, though. The coyotes mostly likely wanted to keep their distance from the fire Geralt had started, just like the foxes.
Jaskier breathed deeply, startling when a familiar sound reached his ears. A rumbling sound, deep, like a kind of gurgling noise. A few slapping sounds punctuated the constant blooping and glugging. Jaskier's eyes shot open.
A river, he thought, suddenly straightening against the tree. His head snapped in the direction of the noise, mesmerized. He and Geralt hadn't needed to fill their waterskins - at least, not yet - so they hadn't searched for a body of water nearby. Geralt likely heard it, but never mentioned it to Jaskier, who would have never heard it amongst their own sounds as they set up camp.
Gods, this is such a bad idea, he groaned to himself, shooting a wary look at Geralt. The man was practically in a coma at this point. Surely, he wouldn't notice if Jaskier was gone for a little bit...would he?
Jaskier shook his head. No. Definitely not. Besides, even if he did head off in the direction of the water, Geralt had no reason to come looking for him. He was sure the witcher had been planning on ditching him at the next town anyway. The thing keeping him from running to the river, however, was the presence of monsters. Jaskier doubted there were any nearby. Geralt would have mentioned it, but he hadn't. So…
Jaskier stood slowly, carefully, grabbing his lute from beside him and strapping it to his back. He truly did not want to wake his companion. He just wanted to sleep. By the Gods, Jaskier was also exhausted to his core. Hours of walking in the sweltering sun and chilly nights had taken a toll on his legs, his feet, and his energy. He needed to rest if he wanted any hope of keeping up with Roach and Geralt tomorrow. Jaskier eyed Geralt as he crept out of the clearing, but the other man didn't even twitch.
Roach, on the other hand, opened her eyes and lifted her head slightly, staring back at him. A flicker of anxiety sparked in Jaskier's chest and he raised a finger to his lips as if to shush her while he backed out of the clearing. Roach flicked an ear in response, almost as if to say, "Stupid bard, where are you going?", but she eventually laid her head back down. Her eyes didn't close, and the fear of waking Geralt didn't fade until he was away from the campsite.
Jaskier closed his eyes briefly and let out a small sigh of relief before turning around and heading in the direction of the river. He hoped there would be a boulder or a decently-sized rock to sit on. He'd really hate to dirty his doublet more than it already was. He quite liked this one, too. The forest felt empty to him, despite the sounds, but more than once, he caught sight of a small dark figure darting around him. He wasn't afraid - it was hard to be scared of creatures running away from him - but he couldn't help the paranoia that one of those darting figures would be running towards him rather than away. Jaskier took in a steadying breath.
"Relax, Jaskier," he murmured to himself. "You know the way back to the campsite. A monster chases you, you run back to Geralt. Easy, simple, you've done it before."
Turns out, he didn't need to worry. The river finally came into view, the water glistening a light blue hue under the moonlight. A small smile graced his face at the sight, and he felt the tension leave his shoulders. Off to the side, a sizable rock sat at the edge of the riverbed, a perfect position for Jaskier to climb up and stare off at the gently rushing water. Jaskier made his way onto the rock, crossing his legs in front of him as he gazed absentmindedly at the water lapping at the river's edge. Jaskier hummed softly to himself for a few moments before deciding to retrieve his lute.
He strummed the strings lightly, reveling in the beautiful sound his beloved instrument made. He let the noise rush through his ears, then started to pluck at the strings with a purpose, a distinct melody beginning to form. It wasn't a jig - he definitely didn't have the energy to create something containing that much excitement - and, instead, a soft lullaby echoed in the night. A fleeting thought crossed his mind to make this moment into an actual song, a break from all the adventures he'd taken to writing lately, but that thought left his mind as quickly as it came. There was no describing this moment of peace. Jaskier let the feeling of serenity wash over him, and he took a minute to truly embrace his surroundings.
"Home," he whispered to himself as he dragged his heavy eyes across the river's surface. He was so, so tired, but no matter how hard he'd tried, sleep evaded him like a breath he could never quite catch. He just wanted to rest. Was that so hard? Apparently, yes, it was.
Jaskier huffed, closing his eyes and allowing himself to play the same few soft notes over and over again, letting it become more instinctual than conscious. Not having to think about his actions but continuing in his motions soothed him, didn't require any effort or logic. For a moment, even if just for a minute, he could just...be. He could just be Jaskier, could just be Julian, could just be Dandelion. He could just be whoever he was, whoever he wanted to be. Hell, he could be nothing, no one at all. And that was okay. Because the river didn't judge, didn't mock his lute playing or humming, didn't think his singing to be "like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling."
That remark had hurt at the same time that it hadn't. Being sleep-deprived often gave a similar, albeit much less potent, effect as being drunk. It was as the old saying went: "A drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts." So, Jaskier hadn't taken as much offense to the insult as he probably should have because he understood that Geralt was tired, cranky, and annoyed. However, the fact that Geralt still thought it, despite having the presence of mind not to voice it out loud before then, still stung.
Jaskier stopped his humming, a resigned sigh escaping his lips. He hated thinking about the djinn incident. He'd really thought he was making some headway in his and Geralt's friendship, because that's what it was, wasn't it? Even if the other man didn't agree to it? A friendship. A really, really good friendship, because they'd yelled at each other, argued, and fought, but at the end of the day, Geralt hadn't ditched him by the riverside and brought him from town to town in his search for a healer. That must mean that Geralt possessed a modicum of concern for Jaskier's well-being, right? He'd also yelled at Filavandrel's elves when they tried to beat on Jaskier, choosing to direct their fury at him instead. There must be some kind of friendship that Geralt wasn't admitting to. Jaskier wasn't that imaginative...right?
He placed his lute to the side, shifting closer to the rock's ledge. Reaching down, Jaskier removed his socks and boots and set them next to his lute, dipping his toes in the water. A shiver ran up his spine. By Gods, it was freezing. But Jaskier didn't let the chill deter him. He stubbornly picked up his lute again and began strumming. If he couldn't fall asleep, then he was at least going to have a good night.
He hummed a new, gentle tune to the river but continued with the same notes as before now that he'd trained his fingers to play them almost autonomously. Before he could stop himself, Jaskier opened his mouth and softly sang,
"River, ebbing and flowing,
Soft and gentle, is she.
Be calm, my dear, I'm hoping,
Together, we soon shall be.
"River, hold me close,
Wash away my worry.
The one I love the most,
River, deem me worthy."
Jaskier stopped his singing and let out a frustrated sigh, dropping his hand from the lute's strings once more. He shook his head, annoyed. That song didn't fit the river at all. Crude, bland, and monotonous. It didn't serve the river nearly enough justice, but how could he phrase the love he felt for the water in words that people could understand? Normally, Jaskier had no problem singing about adventures or heartbreak or love. The river, though, didn't fit an adventure or heartbreak, and the only "love" Jaskier really sang about was of the sexual variety. There was nothing sexual to the river. It was so much...simpler yet complex than that.
How could he describe the only constant in his life? The one thing that remained by his side since he was a child? How could he describe the call of the river that rang in his ears like a siren's song every time he heard it? The answer was simple: he couldn't.
Jaskier set aside his lute and kicked his feet lightly in the water, which had warmed considerably once he became accustomed to the chill. He leaned forward, forearms resting on his knees as he stared down at the rippling water. His reflection stared back at him. The glimmering moonlight cast just enough visibility to see the slight difference of color underneath his eyes. Gods, he was so tired. Tomorrow was going to be hell, and he knew it. It would only be by the grace of the Heavens above that he doesn't collapse on the Path. Geralt would kill him.
Jaskier raised his eyes, relaxing at the sight of fluent movement of the river rushing down to wherever the direction may take it. He wondered if there was a waterfall nearby, one that perhaps he and Geralt could bathe in. Gods knew they needed it. He shook that thought from his head.
Stop talking, Jaskier. Just listen. Let the river calm you. Once you feel relaxed enough, you can head back to the campsite and grab the couple hours left of the night. He groaned in dismay. All he wanted was a good night's rest. Was this how Geralt felt when he went searching for the djinn? He was starting to understand the desperate measures.
Jaskier closed his eyes and swayed himself gently, rocking himself in a poor imitation of a mother and child. The sound of the running water muted everything else around him, a better song than one he could ever compose. Yes, this was it. This was what peace was.
"Jaskier…"
Jaskier's eyes fluttered open and flicked around, his feet stilling in the water.
"What the hell?" he murmured when he didn't see anyone around him, not even Geralt. He furrowed his eyebrows. It couldn't have been Geralt anyway. The voice was tender and benevolent, a sweet-tempered and soothing tone. Definitely not Geralt.
Jaskier should probably be freaking out right now. Some unknown, unseen entity knew his name, but running away felt like the last thing he wanted to do. The voice sounded so...familiar, despite him never hearing it before. He felt comforted.
Jaskier stayed quiet for a few minutes, ears searching for the voice again, but all he could hear was the river and the rustling of leaves. Had he imagined it? Surely not. He couldn't have. Jaskier huffed. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. He closed his eyes again and started back up kicking his feet.
Sleep, he thought, that's all I need. Just some rest. Please, Gods, just let me sleep…
"Jaskier?!"
Jaskier's eyes snapped open again. That voice was much more real this time. Most certainly not the lulling voice he thought he heard before. No, this one sounded like gravel, a deep growl.
Fuck. Geralt.
Jaskier quickly turned his head, just in time to see Geralt break through the treeline, amber eyes searching and muscles tense, like he'd been preparing for a fight. At the sight of Jaskier sitting on the rock, completely unharmed and calm, Geralt's tense shoulders visibly relaxed, though he still seemed wound up. With the slightest bit of hesitation, Geralt stalked his way over towards Jaskier, standing beside the rock and making no move to climb up beside the bard.
A moment of silence passed before Geralt finally asked, "What are you doing out here?"
Jaskier sighed. "Couldn't sleep. Came to get some fresh air." He shot Geralt the best smile he could manage, but he really couldn't muster up the energy for a decent one. "What are you doing up? You looked rather deep in your sleep. On your fortieth dream, perhaps?"
Geralt responded with one of his signature hums, seemingly expressionless, but Jaskier could read between the lines. The bags beneath Geralt's eyes had disappeared considerably. There was still a hint of grey underneath those amber eyes, but he looked much better than before. His face gained a bit of color, too, something Geralt really couldn't afford to lose with his naturally pale skin.
Envy reared up in Jaskier's chest, closely followed by guilt. How he wished he could be as well-rested as Geralt right now, but he also felt horrible for thinking that way. Geralt didn't often get that kind of rest. Jaskier should be happy that his companion had slept more than five minutes for the first time in months, not jealous.
"Why didn't you wake me?" Geralt grumbled, staring down at the river and crossing his arms.
Jaskier raised an eyebrow. "Well, why would I? You seemed to be getting plenty of rest. No point in both of us being sleep-deprived." Wow, that came out much more bitter than he'd expected. The slight downward tilt of Geralt's lips communicated that just as well.
Jaskier huffed. "Sorry. That sounded really aggressive. I didn't mean to say it like that."
Geralt hummed again, waving off the apology. "You're tired," was the best consolation Geralt would give. Jaskier would take it.
The bard scoffed. "'Tired' is a bit of an understatement there, Geralt. Exhausted is more like it. Weary, drained, fatigued...these are all great words to describe me at the moment. 'Tired' was so two days ago."
"See you still have enough energy to complain," Geralt sniped back, but Jaskier could hear the amusement in his tone.
With a good-natured roll of his eyes, Jaskier replied, "Really, now, I thought I'd be able to garner some sympathy from my very best friend in the whole wide world, but I guess not-"
"We're not friends."
"-and there he goes again. Crushing my feelings like those words don't hurt my poor heart every time he says them. Honestly, Geralt, I'm quite offended that you would even say something like that. After all these years, you would think-"
"Jaskier..."
The bard stopped his rant abruptly, mouth clamping shut, but his attention diverted back to the river. A wave of calm rushed over him, practically drowning him in tranquility. There was that voice again. That soothing, soft, motherly…
"Jaskier?"
The bard's eyes snapped over to his left, where Geralt had turned his head and was staring at him with narrowed, quizzical eyes. He could see the question dancing in Geralt's expression, and Jaskier hoped he didn't ask. He wasn't sure how to answer.
"What's wrong?" And of course he fucking asked, because why wouldn't he?
"Uh, nothing. I…" Jaskier turned back to the river, staring intently into moonlit waves. Was there something under the water? A monster? Had Geralt really not heard that voice?
"You...what?"
"Did you…? Did you really not hear that?"
The frown deepened. "Hear what?"
"That...that voice. A woman?"
The response he got back was an incredulous stare.
Frustrated, Jaskier palmed at his heavy eyelids and growled, "How did you not hear that? She was clear as day, Geralt! She fucking said my name!"
"Jaskier."
The bard's attention whipped to the witcher beside him. For a moment, he doubted if Geralt had been the one to speak, sure that his companion was incapable of talking in such a delicate tone. Jaskier took in the softened amber eyes, concern thinly veiled.
"We should head back to camp," Geralt continued, eyeing Jaskier apprehensively, "and try to sleep while you can."
Jaskier groaned, irritated. "Geralt…"
"Try."
The bard huffed, but he didn't argue. Casting one last observant look over the river, Jaskier lifted his feet out of the water, donned his socks and boots, and followed Geralt back to the campsite. The walk was silent, and Jaskier kept his gaze focused on the dirt, but he could still feel the quick glances Geralt sent his way. On any other night, his heart would have warmed at the clear display of worry Geralt decided to show, but he found himself too exhausted and, frankly, confused, to even think about it.
Geralt gestured to Jaskier's bedroll, shooting the bard a pointed glance. Jaskier withheld a sigh and laid himself down, but he turned his back to where Geralt decided to situate himself against a tree, likely to meditate while Jaskier slept. He rested his head on top of his curled arm as a pillow, blinking sluggishly into the dark forest. The crackling of the fire permeated the quiet of the clearing, but Jaskier paid no mind.
He closed his eyes, sending up a desperate wish that he could finally fall asleep. That's all he wanted, and Melitele knew that he would go find himself his own djinn if he didn't sleep tonight. After a few long moments, Jaskier felt irritation building up in his chest. He was tired. Why couldn't he just fall asleep? He was half-tempted to ask Geralt to choke him into unconsciousness - Melitele knew the man would probably be eager to fulfill the request - but before he could, a voice breezed into the clearing and into Jaskier's ears.
"Rest, my child," the soft lullaby whispered. A flicker of alarm built up in Jaskier's chest, yet he found his muscles relaxing, melting into his bedroll. His body felt light, airy, and he could feel sleep finally welcoming him. Unable to fight the temptation, Jaskier exhaled deeply. The last thing he heard was the lullaby singing lovingly,
"Sweet dreams, beautiful Dandelion."
Then, Jaskier knew no more.
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Geralt's head snapped up when he heard Jaskier's heart rate pick up from where the younger man had laid himself down once more. He started to move, quick to arrive at Jaskier's side and determine what was wrong. However, he needn't had worried, not when a soft but audible exhale escaped Jaskier's mouth, probably the deepest and most relaxed the bard had sounded all night. His companion's breath eventually evened out, taking full inhales. He was finally asleep.
Geralt settled back down in his spot, crossing his legs once more and resting his hands on his knees. He straightened his back against the tree behind him, the perfect position for meditation, but he didn't close his eyes. Instead, he stared at Jaskier's still form, a contemplative frown on his face.
He wasn't quite sure what to think. Jaskier had been so adamant back at the river, entirely certain he'd heard a woman's voice call his name. That was ridiculous, though. If that had happened, Geralt would have most definitely heard it. His hearing was far more advanced than Jaskier's, so it couldn't be possible that the woman's voice passed by him. He'd also managed to snag his own few hours of sleep, and he felt more than well-rested. He would have heard her.
Geralt chalked up the bard's ramblings to sleep deprivation. It had to be. Geralt had no doubt that Jaskier was tired. He noticed his companion lagging behind further than usual lately the past couple of days. It was one of the main reasons he'd decided to camp for the night rather than pushing through like usual. The next town was still a couple days away, but Geralt figured it was okay to indulge in one night of rest if it meant the bard could regain at least some of his lost energy.
As it turns out, the stop benefited him more than it did Jaskier.
Geralt sighed deeply through his nose. He should be more concerned than he currently felt about Jaskier hearing a woman calling him. It could have been a number of things - a siren, for one - but he hadn't smelled a monster nearby, nor had he heard one, and his medallion had yet to hum to indicate any presence of magic. So the likelihood of Jaskier actually having heard something was slim to none. Perhaps it had just been an auditory hallucination, a common symptom of sleep deprivation.
A soft hum escaped him. His logic was completely reasonable. There was no sign of any woman speaking...but Jaskier had seemed so sure. Geralt knew his companion was prone to exaggeration, but Jaskier looked far too exhausted to even think about conjuring something like that up. Sure, the bard had found enough strength to complain, but even Geralt could see through that facade. Jaskier truly, wholeheartedly believed someone called out to him.
Geralt closed his eyes, slowing his breathing as he lowered himself into a meditative state. If Jaskier thought he heard something, who was Geralt to say he hadn't? The only thing Geralt could do was to keep a better ear out and pay just a bit more attention to his surroundings. And if it meant it would keep Jaskier safe, then that's what he would do.
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Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving me a review to tell me how to improve. I've only ever written one other The Witcher fic - And When I'm Gone - so I would greatly appreciate it if you all could leave some feedback, whether it's on characterization or plot. It would mean so much to me.
Thank you again!