CW: suicidal thoughts/actions, suicide attempt, canon-typical swearing, depressive thoughts, self-esteem issues, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced child neglect
Please be safe. Do not read this if any of the above warnings trigger you. Your mental health is worth more than reading a story.
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"Put your arms around me.
Let your love surround me.
I am lost, I am lost.
If I ain't got you here,
If I ain't got you, I ain't got nothing at all."
~ Can You Hold Me? - NF ft. Britt Nicole
xxxxxxx
Winter had never been kind to Jaskier, but this...this was a whole new level of cruelty.
With a frustrated growl, Jaskier swept off the pack of snow that had just landed on his head and shoulders when a particularly rough gust of wind blew it off a branch above him. If he wasn't cold before, he certainly was now, and he had no idea how far the next town was. He didn't even know if he strayed from the path yet. Snow covered the entirety of the forest ground, and Jaskier could hardly tell where he stood anymore.
He thought about taking out his lute, but he quickly crushed that feeling down. Playing the lute no longer appealed to him. Not since...
Jaskier shook his head, letting out an exasperated sigh. He really needed to stop thinking about the damned witcher. It'd been three months since the mountain. Geralt made his feelings very clear. If Geralt wanted nothing to do with him, well, then he wanted nothing to do with Geralt. Simple as that. Jaskier survived eighteen years before he met the witcher in godsforsaken Posada. He could get by the rest of his life without any ridiculous adventures. He could have his \bown adventures.
Jaskier bit back a choked sob. No, he couldn't. He shook his head at himself again. Who was he kidding? He was so damn angry at Geralt, but he still felt for the other man. Jaskier honestly thought they'd gotten somewhere. Over the years, Geralt had shown genuine concern for the bard. He'd had to. There was no other way to explain why Geralt took time out of his life to save Jaskier from monsters, bandits, and scorned lovers. He'd fed the bard, kept him warm during the coldest nights, and, though rare, even joked with him. There had to have been something, right?
"My darling, you are thinking far too loudly for your own sake."
Almost immediately, the tension fled Jaskier's muscles, and an internal warmth surged within him. He sighed in contentment. The Voice. He'd never really given the voice a name, but she had been speaking to him much more over the years. She never truly stayed, yet she was always there when he and Geralt needed her. Whether it be during an intense monster fight or another seemingly restless night for Jaskier, The Voice always soothed him and guided him to safety.
"Well, now," Jaskier started, clearing his throat after so long of disuse, "I think you and I both know I've always been fairly loud."
The clinking of seashells filled his ears.
"Are you laughing at me? I'll have you know, I'm having quite the difficult time here," Jaskier scoffed, only mock offended.
"Yes, of course. My apologies,"The Voice replied, amusement in her tone.
For a few moments, Jaskier walked in silence, letting the residual calm The Voice had left him with wash away any unpleasant thoughts. He needed to focus. Night was approaching quickly, and it would only grow colder. He could always set up camp and brandish a blazing fire, but he doubted a simple fire and no walls would protect him from what appeared to be an approaching blizzard.
"You are close, little flower. The next town is not far from you."
At that, Jaskier brightened, straightening his back eagerly. "Really? How far?"
The Voice hummed softly, the sound of an ocean breeze entering one of his ears and escaping through the other. "At this pace, perhaps a couple of hours."
"Bless Melitele," Jaskier murmured. With that encouraging estimate, Jaskier picked up his pace, elongating his strides in the hopes of arriving at the town faster. He pulled the edges of his thick cloak closer to him and pulled up the hood, something he probably should have done before the snow mistook him for the ground.
A quiet sigh fell from his lips. "Do you think he meant it?"
The Voice didn't need to ask who he was talking about. "I could never speak for another."
"That's not what I asked," Jaskier grumbled, crossing his arms like a petulant child.
"My sweet Jaskier, you know I adore you so, but there are questions that even I cannot answer for you. Some things you must find on your own."
"I don't want to see him again," Jaskier snapped back, a hysterical laugh in the undertones of his voice.
"Then you do not have to. Even so, Destiny is a powerful force-"
"Fuck destiny!" Jaskier yelled, grasping at his biceps tightly in anger. "Everyone says it! Destiny this, and destiny that! Look at where destiny's fucking gotten me now! Broken-hearted, tossed aside, and so frighteningly alone ..." Jaskier's voice cracked, and he had to clench his eyes tightly to prevent tears from falling.
"You are not alone,"The Voice whispered gently, "I have always been beside you, even when you could not feel my presence."
Jaskier let out a cynical laugh. "I know you have, and I thank you for it. You have helped me so much over the years, but the fact of the matter is, you're not actually here. You're some kind of disembodied voice living in my head, one Geralt never really believed in. Let's face it, I'm so, so, so alone."
The Voice didn't respond, and Jaskier merely shook his head in dismay. Shifting his gaze to look straight ahead of him, Jaskier focused on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other. He couldn't bring himself to think about anything else much longer. The calm that once encompassed him had fled, and all that remained was the bitter chill.
Taking in a deep breath, Jaskier steeled himself against the harsh wind and trudged his way to the next town. The only thing keeping him company was the set of footprints he left behind.
xxxxxxx
Jaskier let out a long sigh of relief as he finally opened the door to the village's tavern, immediately greeted with the warmth of a blazing fire in the back of the room. Several patrons sat at the tables, drinking and laughing and yelling as they sheltered from the cold. He pulled back his cloak's hood, making his way to the barmaid.
She gave him a polite smile as he situated himself on one of the stools towards the corner. "Dinner and ale?"
Jaskier returned her smile with a weak one of his own. "That would be most appreciated."
She nodded before heading off towards the kitchen. Jaskier breathed in deeply as he surveyed the tavern. He absentmindedly noted there were no white-haired men sitting around, and he didn't know what to make of the tight feeling in his chest at that revelation. Was it relief? Was it disappointment? Fuck Geralt.
Jaskier huffed and shrugged off his cloak when the heat became too much, revealing the lute case sitting on his back. Almost immediately, shouts of "play us a song, bard!" erupted around him. Jaskier jumped in his seat, looking around at all the patrons calling to him. His throat closed up. He hadn't actually sung in a tavern in so long. He barely played to himself anymore. The only reason he still carried the lute was out of respect to Filavandrel.
He opened his mouth, ready to disappoint the crowd, when the barmaid returned to his spot, placing a tankard of ale in front of him. "I'll waive your pay for a room, dinner, and ale if you entertain them," she bargained.
Jaskier just barely masked his flinch. His coin purse was light enough that he often forgot he had it. It would do him well if he could have a whole night free. Jaskier reached around and placed his lute case on his lap. He opened it and let his fingers run over the engravings, unwanted memories of Geralt protecting him from Filavandrel and Toruviel flooding his mind.
With a deep sigh, Jaskier lifted his head up and flashed the most dazzling smile he could muster, though it felt so fake and wrong on his face. "Well, I suppose I could do a few," he conceded.
The tavern erupted into a chaotic mess of enthusiastic shouting as Jaskier made his way to the middle of his room, legs trembling slightly for the exertion of his prior trek through the woods. Gods, he was tired, but he needed the money.
As he bowed to the crowd in greeting, his heart began to race. Most of his songs involved Geralt and his adventures. Jaskier knew he wasn't emotionally stable enough to sing anything related to the White Wolf. He'd need to buy himself some time, figure out as many songs as he could that didn't include the man who ripped his heart to shreds three months ago. He settled for a classic.
Clearing his throat, Jaskier gave a sheepish smile and said, "It's been a while since I've played, so I might be a bit rusty. I'm sure I'll get back into the swing of things soon enough, however." He sent a wink to the crowd, who, surprisingly, looked quite understanding.
With that, Jaskier strummed his lute, fingers finding the strings automatically, despite how long it'd been since he'd last played. A boost in confidence welled up in his chest and he opened his mouth.
"Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger, Come quell your daughter's hunger..."
Before long, the tavern walls shook with people stamping their feet, clapping their hands, singing along if they knew the lyrics, and raucous laughter. For a while, Jaskier was able to forget about his worries, songs coming back to him like he'd never failed to remember them, all of which not including the shall-not-be-named witcher.
He concluded with his song Elusive, one he hadn't sung in so many years. To his delight, the crowd ate it up, soaking it in with the same excitement as all of his others. However, as much as he hated to admit it, his legs were growing weaker, and he could feel his posture beginning to slouch. He gave a stiff bow to the audience and said,
"You have all been so lovely tonight! Thank you so much, but I'm afraid this is where my show must end."
Disappointed groans filled the tavern's air, even from the barmaids walking around. Jaskier sent them an apologetic smile as he backed up to his lute case, which was covered with coins. His heart swelled at the sight. This would last him quite a while. Just as he was about to put his lute away, a feminine voice called from the back,
"Wait!"
Jaskier turned around, searching for whoever had caught his attention. His eyes locked on a young brunette sitting on the far left, her hand held up for him to acknowledge.
"Yes?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
She gave him a soft smile. "Perhaps one more song? Something much softer to end the night off?"
Jaskier opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly continued, "You don't have to perform or dance or anything. Just a soft ballad for an easy night of rest."
Jaskier hesitantly surveyed the room, taking in the slow nods of agreement and low mumbles of affirmation. He took in a deep breath, bringing his lute back up. His body protested, but he figured if he just pulled out a barstool and performed sitting down, perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as he imagined it to.
"I suppose I could do one more," Jaskier conceded, dragging a stool to the front center of the tavern. Applause greeted him as he settled in his seat, enticing a melancholic smile from him.
"This is a song I've just recently finished. You all will be the first to hear it, so, please, your opinions would be greatly appreciated."
With everyone's eyes on him, Jaskier drew in a shuddering breath before saying, "I call this 'Her Sweet Kiss.' "
He gently plucked at his lute's strings, closing his eyes as he sang,
"The fairer sex they often call it,
But her love's as unfair as a crook.
It steals all my reason,
Commits every treason
Of logic, with naught but a look."
Not once did he look at his audience. Nor did he open his eyes in fear that tears may spill down his cheeks. A pressure in his chest made itself known, pushing down on his heart and lungs to the point where he almost felt suffocated. Memories flowed back to him, of Posada, Filavandrel's elves, the djinn incident, the mountain. He'd told himself he wouldn't do this, wouldn't sing about Geralt of Rivia, but how could he not? Twenty-two years. Twenty-two years of his life, given away to a man who never wanted it.
And it hurt.
"I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting." Jaskier could feel himself flinch despite his closed eyes as his voice cracked on that line, a bit too much emotion showing through. Jaskier thrived on being open with his emotions, but even that was too much to handle, especially after having his feelings torn to pieces by a man he thought he could trust.
"The story is this,
She'll destroy with her sweet kiss."
Jaskier strummed the final notes on his lute, giving himself only a second of reprieve before opening his eyes. The crowd stared back at him, slack-jawed and misty-eyed, in greeting. Jaskier shifted in his seat. Well, this certainly wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting.
Jaskier cleared his throat awkwardly. "Right, well, I suppose that would do it for tonight."
As he stood, he distinctly heard someone whisper, "Who hurt you so badly?"
He didn't know who it came from, but he couldn't stop himself from turning around and casting a grim smile to the audience. "The one person I had left in this world."
Jaskier didn't stay to chat any longer. He quickly grabbed his lute case in one hand, careful not to spill the coins inside, and his lute and cloak in the other. He stalked out the door, forgetting about his free dinner and room. Those were the least of his worries, especially when his heart felt like it was being twisted, wrung out like a drenched shirt.
He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes shut tight as he walked aimlessly, trying to quell the nauseous feeling building in the stomach, his breathing erratic. Fuck, what was he thinking? He should have rejected that last song request. He hadn't even sung the full song to himself yet. How had he thought playing that song to be wise when he hadn't even allowed himself to grieve properly?
He really wished The Voice was here now.
He wished Geralt was here.
Jaskier shook his head, opening his eyes and dismayed to see through tear-blurred vision. No, he wasn't going to think like that. Geralt left him, abandoned him for a mage who didn't care for him. The witcher had snapped at him, blamed him, ripped his heart to shreds. Geralt didn't deserve Jaskier's sorrow. He didn't earn it.
Jaskier growled loudly to himself. He knew what he should be thinking; why couldn't he just believe it? All this pain and suffering, and all for a man who probably hadn't thought about Jaskier for the past three months. Hell, Geralt was probably gallivanting across the Continent, finally relieved that the annoying bard he'd been trying to rid himself of for the past twenty-two years was gone. Jaskier swallowed past the lump in his throat.
A lot of people wanted Jaskier gone.
Jaskier let out a choked sob, the biting winter wind gnawing at him, seemingly bypassing his skin and only freezing his insides. Another cry escaped him. Why must the world continue to hurt him so? What had he done to deserve this? All he wanted was to love, and maybe even be loved. He wasn't picky or pining; he just wanted someone to give him a reason to live.
Jaskier's breath caught in his throat as he looked up from his locked gaze on the snow-covered path. He'd traveled a bit of ways away from the town and come face-to-face with a looming cliff. Just beyond the cliff rested a vast lake, sea, ocean. Jaskier couldn't tell, not when the body of water expanded far beyond what his eyes could see.
He sighed softly, gathering the coins in his lute case and placing them in his coin purse, which he left beside the case, making room to lay down his lute and shield it from the bitter cold. Leaving the lute case and coin purse propped up against a nearby tree, Jaskier stepped forward, toeing the edge of the cliff. With a deep inhale, he wrapped his cloak around him and knelt down in the snow. Immediately, his knees became soaked and started to go numb from the cold, but Jaskier couldn't bring himself to care.
Gods, it hurt so much. He had no one. His family never cared for him. They were cruel and unforgiving, even more so when they found out he wanted to become something other than what they groomed him for. Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, to Jaskier, a bard? What a disgrace to the royal family.
And what a disgrace, he was. Taverns continuously booed him out the doors, tossing anything they could get their hands on at him. He lived his days with bread in his pants and blisters on his feet. He starved some days, lost sleep on others. Jaskier didn't remember being anything else but a walking, talking shell of a man those days.
Then he saw him: Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf. The moment Jaskier laid his eyes on him, he knew the brooding man in the corner with ale the barkeep probably pissed in would be his greatest success yet (not that he had much going for him to begin with). Those years, somehow, were the best years of his life. Ironically, they were now his worst - and likely Geralt's, too.
Jaskier closed his eyes again, willing the tears to stop, but his body didn't seem keen on obeying. He let out a quivering sob. Fuck, he couldn't do this anymore. He had nothing left, had no one left. Where would he go? What would he do? What was a life worth living if he was worth nothing? Jaskier turned his head to the lute case leaning against the tree. His heart clenched.
I am so sorry, Filavandrel, Jaskier thought, rising to his feet and unclasping his cloak, your lute deserved so much better.
Jaskier raised his head up, the moon tauntingly bright above him, almost as if it were smiling at his misfortune. He swallowed thickly. Thank you, though, for lending it to me, for giving me something to live for. It's not its fault, or yours. Some things just hurt too much to cure.
Jaskier took a step forward and looked down at the waves crashing against the side of the cliff, seemingly trying to reach up to him and pull him down to them. He closed his eyes once more. I'm sorry, Filavandrel.
He took a deep breath.
I'm sorry, everyone.
He took another step forward.
"Jaskier?"
I'm sorry, Geralt.
"Jaskier!"
Jaskier took the final step forward, and then...he was falling. He didn't open his eyes, didn't dare to see his fate approach him. He made his bed, and it wasn't comfortable in the slightest, but he must lay in it.
He heard a distant - anguished? - "No!" yelled from above him, and it squeezed at his heart for some reason, but he didn't have long to dwell on it.
Hitting the freezing water knocked the air out of his lungs and, for a moment, all he knew was pain. Sheer, breath-taking, agonizing pain. He felt his bones break, his skin bruise...but he was alive.
Jaskier opened his eyes and saw nothing but darkness surrounding him. He couldn't move his arms, his legs, his head. Why wasn't he dead? Why was he alive? Why wasn't he drowning at least?
Then, the pain disappeared as quickly as it came. The water closed in on him, almost like a hug, followed by, "Oh, no, my sweet Dandelion. How could I ever take the life of someone that has loved me so beautifully?"
The Voice.
Jaskier felt the routine calm wash over him again, which he couldn't explain considering the fact that he was floating in the middle of the ocean and not dead.
Wait...what? What did she mean by that? What did she mean by her taking his life? He'd jumped into the ocean. Who the fuck-?
Who are you?
The sound of clinking seashells filled his ears. Jaskier's eyes flicked around to search for the source of laughter, but all he saw was blackness.
"My flower, have you really not guessed it?"
If Jaskier's heart hadn't stopped before, it certainly did now. What? What are you saying? What does this mean?
"You have loved me since you were but a child. Even when you were told I was dangerous, you came to me, sang to me, loved me. All I could do to return the favor was save you from your unfortunate demise."
Unable to think of anything else to say, Jaskier thought, I didn't fall accidentally...I jumped.
"Sweetheart, I know," The Voice replied, her voice tinged with deep sorrow and sympathy. Strangely, he didn't feel angry about her pity, probably because it didn't feel like she was pitying him. It felt so much more...understanding than that.
Have you always been here? Jaskier asked.
"Who do you think it was that has been calling to you all these years?"
It finally dawned on him. The water seemed to warm around him, a tight embrace in the otherwise pitch black of the ocean. The ocean...which had saved him.
Awestruck, Jaskier whispered, You're the voice...
"Indeed, I am. Rest now, little flower. I will take care of you."
A tight feeling grew in Jaskier's chest. Will I wake up?
"Of course you will. Though, you will not be the same as before."
What...What does that mean? He tried to stop the panic from welling up inside him, but he supposed he didn't fare too well when the water around him seemed to hold him tighter in response.
"For as vast and powerful as I am, I cannot control life and death. What I can control are the creatures that live alongside me."
What does that mean?!
"When you wake, you will no longer be human. Do not fret, Dandelion, I will grant you a form, not unlike the beautiful soul you are now. Now, rest. I will wake you when you have recovered."
Recovered...?
"Why, of course. You fell from a great height. Your human body could never survive that fall. What can survive is your soul."
I don't understand...This doesn't make sense to me! If he could move, Jaskier would have curled into a ball and pulled at his hair. He felt calm, but the frustration was starting to break through.
A deep sigh echoed in his ears, the sound of waves crashing on the shore. "I wish I could help you better understand, but it is so much easier to show you. Now, sleep, my darling Dandelion. When you wake, I will still be with you."
Jaskier didn't want to sleep. He had so much more to say, so many questions to ask, but before he could think anything else, he felt his eyes drift shut.
Then, he knew no more.
xxxxxxx
That concludes the third installment of Oceans Away. The next one is where things start to sort of come together. I'm really not good at worldbuilding, character/plot development, or easing into things. This is my first real try at it, so hopefully, I'm doing okay. Your comments have been really sweet, thank you so much. I hope you guys enjoyed this one as well, despite how... dark it is.