Call To Me

by DARKSOMEONE41

It has been four months since the last time he heard the voice that soothed him to sleep. When Geralt nearly gets killed during a kikimora fight, Jaskier starts to learn that there may be more to this voice than he originally believed. Or maybe he was losing his fucking marbles. Sequel to Sing Me To Sleep. Highly recommend reading that before this.

Here is the second installment to the Oceans Away series. This is the direct sequel to Sing Me To Sleep, and I highly recommend you read that one first before you read this one! Please enjoy!

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"And it's a long way forward, so trust in me
I'll give them shelter, like you've done for me
And I know, I'm not alone, you'll be watching over us
Until you're gone."

~ Shelter, Porter Robinson, Madeon

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Jaskier hummed as he watched Geralt fight off a kikimora hiding in a pond. They had recently traveled to a town where they'd immediately been asked to "Please, please, please, help get rid of the monster in our water." Geralt, the foolish bleeding heart, took off without a word in the direction the village alderman had pointed them to, leaving Jaskier to quickly tell the older man that they would discuss payment upon their return and dart after the damned witcher.

Wincing at a particularly vicious swipe from the kikimora, Jaskier resisted the urge to call out to Geralt as the man was sent flying backward and landing roughly on the shore. He had learned his lesson a long time ago that, as much as he hated it, it was best to stay quiet and out of the way during Geralt's fights. Calling out or racing onto the battlefield only served to distract his friend and, more often than not, resulted in one or both of them getting injured. Eventually, they'd compromised. Jaskier would only interfere with a fight if Geralt sincerely needed help. Only one of them was even remotely happy about this agreement, and it certainly wasn't the one doing the actual fighting.

He couldn't help but worry, though, even if he had full confidence in Geralt's ability to slay any monster that came their way. Despite the potions his witcher consumed beforehand, the kikimora seemed to be gaining the upper hand. Jaskier wasn't sure when he should draw the line. He knew that if he threw himself in the line of attack, Geralt would stop fighting. While the witcher may act like Jaskier was a complete bother, Geralt would lay down his life to protect the bard. Jaskier was not above using that knowledge to his advantage. If he had to risk his life to force Geralt to retreat and try again at killing the monster at a later time, then so be it.

He watched as Geralt lunged at the kikimora once more, slicing at the creature's legs. More than once, Jaskier witnessed his friend be nearly drowned by the monster, held down by one of the many limbs it possessed. If it happened again and Geralt managed to come back up - he would always come back up, he had to - Jaskier had decided that would be when he would force the stubborn witcher to retreat.

With halted breath, Jaskier focused in on the battle, absorbing in every detail for his upcoming ballad, only to be shocked out of his thoughts by a vicious roar...one that sounded eerily similar to the kikimora Geralt was fighting. Jaskier's mouth went dry. The roar sounded like the kikimora Geralt was fighting, except it hadn't come from that exact beast itself.

Jaskier's eyes widened in horror as another kikimora, one about the same size as the one Geralt found himself facing, came bounding out of the forest. The village said nothing about there being two kikimoras.

He distantly heard a frustrated "Fuck!" escaping Geralt's mouth, and Jaskier couldn't help but think it summed up the situation quite nicely. This was definitely a "Fuck!" moment if Jaskier had anything to say about it, and he definitely had a few words to say to the village alderman when they returned. If there was anything Jaskier hated more than people insulting Geralt, it was them being negligent or cruel enough to mislead him into an early grave.

Jaskier's heart leapt to his throat as he watched Geralt struggle to keep up with both monsters, ultimately failing to block quite a few swipes aimed at him. Geralt was losing this fight, and Jaskier would be damned if he lost his witcher because of some bigoted arse. He wanted to run and pull Geralt away, but while he may have been able to escape with a few wounds here and there from the first kikimora, there was certainly no way he would live if he ran in front of both of them. Not to mention that even if he did live, Geralt would be the one to kill him afterward.

No, all he could do was sit here and watch in utter desperation as his friend was tossed around and nearly drowned by these two merciless creatures. He could feel his eyes burning, tears pooling at the edges. His heartbeat rapidly, and his shaking hands curled around his lute. This couldn't be the death of Geralt. There had to be something he could do.

"Jaskier..."

Jaskier froze. No way. No way in hell. He hadn't heard that voice in months. But he couldn't deny it. It sounded like the same soft, melodic, sweet voice that spoke to him all that time ago along the river. The same voice he thought he'd heard during a momentary lapse of sanity. He couldn't possibly be losing his marbles now. This was quite literally the worst time ever.

"My sweet Dandelion, I am not here to harm you..."

"Who...Who are you?" Jaskier whispered, keeping his eyes locked on Geralt. His vision tracked as Geralt was flung into a tree, but his heart didn't skip a beat out of fear like it normally would. Instead, his heart calmed, and his hands stilled. He felt...relaxed, at peace. Why the fuck was he okay with Geralt getting killed?

A soft twinkling echoed in his ear, like tiny bells or...clinking seashells. "Sweet flower, it is not that you are accepting of the witcher's fate, but, rather, you know what you must do."

"I...do?" Jaskier asked, narrowing his eyes. By Melitele, he must look like psychotic talking to himself.

"You do. You know what the kikimoras have planned for your dear friend."

Jaskier scoffed, shaking his head. "No, I don't! I-" He paused, his gaze suddenly locking on a spot in the woods. Just barely, he could see the dark outlines of two silhouettes between the trees. His eyes locked on Geralt once more, and he finally saw it. The two kikimoras he was facing were herding him towards the treeline...right into the grasps of the creatures in the forest.

"They're cornering him," he whispered, the realization hitting him like a ton of bricks. He needed to warn Geralt now.

"Indeed," the voice hummed, "and the witcher has just the right technique to save himself."

"What could that possibly be?" Jaskier snapped, "He's completely outnumbered."

"Calm yourself, my child," the woman's voice soothed. Jaskier felt his muscles melt from their tense position once more, a wave of peace washing over him. The voice continued, "Where are you currently?"

Jaskier furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "The forest."

"Yes. What are forests made up of?"

"Trees?"

"Trees are weak to...?"

Jaskier straightened up, and he could practically feel himself glowing with anticipation. "Fire...Igni!"

"Very good, my lovely flower. Now, go save your witcher."

"Thank you," Jaskier murmured as he strapped his lute to his back, emphasizing as much gratitude as he feasibly could.

The voice laughed at him, the sound of clinking seashells filling his ears once more. "No, my darling Jaskier, this was all you."

He could feel the voice leave him, but it parted from him with an overwhelming atmosphere of tranquility and a clear mind. His body was steady, and he knew what he had to do.

By the grace of the gods above, one of the kikimoras slammed into Geralt, sending the witcher flying in Jaskier's direction. Without much thought, Jaskier raced forward and grabbed the back of Geralt's armor, attempting to haul the witcher with him.

"Jaskier!" Geralt yelled, pitch-black eyes glaring at him, "What the fuck are you doing?!"

"Saving your life, you arse! Just pull back for a moment!" Jaskier snapped in response, returning with a glare of his own.

"You're going to get both of us killed!"

"Only if you don't listen to me, so get your arse up and follow me!" Jaskier glanced up to see the kikimoras advancing in their direction, but he didn't feel fear. Somehow, for some unknown reason, he felt inexplicably safe.

Casting an angry but bewildered expression, Geralt let out a deep growl and followed Jaskier, the two of them running in the opposite direction of where the two kikimoras hiding in the woods were, careful to avoid falling into the pond.

"What is so damn important, Jaskier?!" Geralt hissed, casting a quick yet effective Aard when the kikimoras got a bit too close.

"There are two more kikimoras in the forest, behind us. The two you were fighting were pushing you towards them."

"What?" Geralt turned around, and Jaskier could see his eyes narrow and his jaw tense when he finally acknowledged what would have been his inevitable death. A low growl admitted from his throat.

The two of them rounded a tree, hiding behind as Jaskier spewed out his plan. "You need to get them into the woods, round them up into a tight area. We're in the woods, Geralt. Just cast Igni, light the trees on fire, and burn the bastards to ashes."

For a moment, Geralt stared at him, and Jaskier could admit that those blackened irises made the gaze just the slightest bit unsettling.

"Uh, Geralt? As much as I would love to entertain this impromptu staring contest, we're kind of in the middle of a life or death situation, so if you could please..."

His words seemingly snapped the witcher out of his reverie. Sending one last wary and confused look to the bard, Geralt sprinted back into the clearing and caught the kikimoras' attention. Jaskier watched as Geralt led the kikimoras into the woods before shifting his gaze over to the left, where he saw the other two already in the forest start to make their way in Geralt's direction.

Jaskier, somehow still holding onto his air of calm, waited with bated breath as Geralt and the kikimoras disappeared from view. For a moment, he could only hear the kikimoras and he wondered if Geralt was safe. Then, the forest fell silent.

Jaskier's hands didn't shake, his heart didn't race, and his eyes didn't tear up, but he still felt a flicker of worry burning in the pit of his stomach as he waited and waited and waited. He kept his vision locked on the patch of trees Geralt had disappeared through, focusing to catch even a glimpse of white hair.

Above the treetops, a burst of fire broke through the canopy, and an intense sense of relief fell over him as Geralt came bounding through the dense thicket, amber starting to peer through the inky blackness of his potion-induced gaze. Jaskier let out a deep sigh and moved to greet his friend halfway.

"Are they all dead?" he asked once he'd approached Geralt by the pond's bed.

Geralt hummed, giving a curt nod. "Don't have heads as proof, but it'll do."

"I'll get the alderman to pay us anyway," Jaskier reassured, rolling his eyes at the thought of facing the bastard after such an event.

Geralt hummed again, glaring in the direction of the fire he started.

"Do you think it'll take down most of the forest?" Jaskier asked quietly, able to see the flicker of flames, though not as much as Geralt's enhanced eyes.

"Doubt it," Geralt responded, "Cast it in a mostly bare spot. Not as many trees to catch fire and spread out enough not to light the main areas."

Jaskier nodded, relieved. "Good. That's good." With that, Jaskier turned, ready to head back to the village, when he felt Geralt's gloved hand wrap around his forearm. Turning back, he met Geralt's burning stare.

"How did you know?"

"How did I know what?" Jaskier asked, eyeing Geralt's unwavering grip.

Geralt paid no mind. "How did you know about the other kikimoras?"

Jaskier swallowed thickly and averted his eyes. "Oh, uh, well..."

"Jaskier." Geralt growled, voice brooking no room for argument.

Letting out a long-suffering sigh, Jaskier answered, "Do you remember about four months ago when we were at that river? When I couldn't sleep?"

Geralt furrowed his eyebrows in thought. "The voice?"

With a nod but still refusing to look his friend in the eyes, Jaskier continued, "I heard her again. Except she talked a lot more this time. She didn't exactly tell me, but...opened my eyes, I guess? She talked me through seeing the kikimoras and how to kill them easily."

Geralt didn't respond for a while. His eyes lingered on Jaskier's as if searching for any semblance of a lie or maybe even insanity. After a few moments, he replied, "This...voice. It speaks to you often?"

Jaskier shook his head. "I haven't heard it since the night by the river."

"Hm." Geralt crossed his arms. "Yennefer could probably get rid of it."

At that, Jaskier's head shot up and he shot the witcher an incredulous look. Yennefer? Gods, no! Not only did Jaskier desperately not want to get rid of the voice, but he especially didn't wish to see that dreaded witch any sooner than he had to. Geralt may be infatuated with the horrid mage, but Jaskier could truly do without her. "What? No!"

"No?" Geralt repeated, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"Think about it, Geralt," Jaskier huffed in exasperation, "That voice just saved our arses. It's done nothing but help us so far!"

"It's only helped us once, Jaskier," Geralt deadpanned, fixing the bard with an unamused stare.

"It...actually helped me go to sleep that night," Jaskier confessed, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, "I don't think I could've without it."

Geralt hummed, deciding to look over at where the fire seemed to be dying down, considering Jaskier no longer saw the bright orange flames like he'd been able to before. "You trust this voice you hear?"

"I guess so?" Jaskier exhaled deeply. "When it spoke to me, I felt...calm. I wasn't afraid or nervous or anxious. I was just calm, and I felt safer than I probably should've." With a half-hearted shrug, Jaskier said, "If I felt that comfortable with it, maybe it isn't that bad?"

Geralt turned back to him, an apprehensive look in his eyes. "Many monsters trick you into a false sense of security."

"I don't think this is a monster, Geralt," Jaskier pressed gently, "I truly think it's something good."

He held Geralt's gaze for a few seconds later before the witcher finally let out a short sigh. "Fine," Geralt growled, turning to walk in the direction of Roach, "We won't get rid of it."

"Good," Jaskier mumbled, picking up his pace to keep up with Geralt.

"But," Geralt started, leveling Jaskier with a serious, side-eyed glare, "if at any point that voice leads us astray, we get rid of it."

For some reason, those words sent a chill down Jaskier's spine. He couldn't quite comprehend it, but the thought of living without the voice left a void in his heart, despite the fact he managed four months with no word from it. Still, he saw the underlying concern in Geralt's eyes - concern the witcher would never admit to - and he nodded.

"Okay."

Geralt nodded, seemingly satisfied, and they traveled the rest of the way in silence. As they neared the treeline to find Roach, Jaskier found himself casting one last look at the pond. A gentle breeze sifted through his hair, almost like fingers scraping lightly against his scalp. He felt the slightest calming of his heart at the feeling, and a soft smile graced his features. With a deep breath, taking in the comforting and earthly scent of the water, Jaskier turned his back to the pond and followed after Geralt.

Until we meet again, Voice, Jaskier thought.

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I hope you guys enjoyed this story! If you did, please consider leaving a review and tell me how I did, if I need to improve upon anything. I understand that these past two haven't been much, but I promise the next one will be when the plot really begins to pick up. Thank you so much!