As they were finishing their plates, said bard noticed he didn't often hear his companion speak as much, nor did he meet someone more privy than him. He was musing on his thoughts, when the little boy came tugging at the lady's sleeve.

"Ma'am? Can you make the little lights come again? Can you sing one more?"

The blind musician seemed happy of the intervention. But before she could say a word, the innkeeper came chastise her progeny.

"Now, now, let the poor thing rest! Stop pestering her! And you, my poor dear, come rest to your room. You are exhausted. You'll see, it's nice and cosy, and I've lit the fire."

The musician thanked her profusely, and apologise to the children.

"I'm sorry, but if you ask the nice man by my side, I'm sure he can sing beautiful songs for you too. You see," she bent to whisper "he's a bard too!

-Will there be pretty lights?

- There will be pretty words, which is wonderful too!"

The children looked doubtful, but Jaskier, more than happy to shine, jumped at the chance to show his talent. He had plenty of adventurous tales to tell that would dazzle even little ones. As he started playing and singing, the blind musicien apologised to Geralt.

"I hope you don't think me ungrateful if I show obedience, and go rest. Mine is a long journey."

Before he could ask where to, she rose, bowed her head, and prepared to follow the guidance of the motherly woman.

The witcher quaffed his drink. Impatience and exhaustion were getting the better of him. For a reason he quite didn't understand, this whole thing was getting on his nerves. How did she even know Jaskier was a bard, for fuck's sake? None of them had said anything about it! He rose and followed their path.

He spotted the two women making their way in the dark of the night toward the staircase, the innkeeper happily chatting to her customer, the blind musician listening with a smile, when their path crossed that of an obviously drunk large man, reeking of wine. The innkeeper got out of the way to let him pass, but the musician couldn't see anything…

A loud splash was heard. A large puddle of mud had welcomed her fall.

"Can't you beware?" barked the drunkyard.

"She can't see much, you idiot! Oh my poor dear" The innkeeper rushed to her side, as the musician stumbled to get back on her feet, as her robe dripped of mud. But she recoiled from the touch of the woman helping her.

"I'll be fine, I'll be fine. Please.

- We must get you out of those clothes quickly, or you'll catch death!

- NO !"

The shout startled the poor woman, as Geralt came closer to them.

"I'm sorry, I'll be fine. I guess I'll sleep in the stables. I can't very well soil your sheets.

- But…

- I promise, it'll be alright."

The witcher made his voice heard, though barely above a whisper.

"Whatever you're afraid of they'll see, I can protect you of. I'll guard your room's door if you wish."

She gasped at the sound of his voice. He was quite close to her, and, truth be told, that voice seemed… Reassuring? Still, she made a movement with her head to refuse.

"I'm grateful, really, but it won't be necessary. I'm used to sleeping outside."

The witcher stood firmly by her side. Whatever it was that she was hiding, whatever it was that she feared, he truly wanted to help her at this moment.

"Yes, but you don't have to. There are other ways. And I promise you'll be safe."

She was hesitating, he could tell.

"It… It wouldn't be enough." She whispered.

"Why?

- … No one, not a living soul can see. There are holes, I cannot be sure.

- I'll stand with you. And I won't look. You have my word.

- You couldn't. It would be awful… For you."

What did she mean? Why did she worry her appearance would shock him that much? And why did she care?

"I promise I wouldn't make fun." He said wryly. She caught his wrist in a tight grisp, startling him. Her hand was so cold...

"No, you don't understand! You… Cannot look! You cannot see!" Her anguish was palpable. "No, this is a bad idea. Thank you, but I'll sleep in the stable. I'll sleep in the stable!" And she turned around before stopping, realising she had no way where to head. Gerlat took her hand in his in a gentle motion.

"I won't look, nor will anyone. I'll be in the room with you, you'll get out of those clothes, take a warm bath, I'll turn around the whole time and never look at you. There will be no mirror, no light if you wish, I'll guard your door from the inside, making sure no one, and I mean absolutely no one, can see you. And believe me, I can."

She had heard him. She didn't say a thing. The struggle was obvious within her. Then, finally, she relented.

"I'll be… Most grateful." Her voice was barely audible.

Geralt turned toward the innkeeper, who had stayed silent, almost shocked, during the whole scene. She turned her heel, anouncing loudly:

"I'll fetch warm water! Nils, show them the room. Girls, come help me!"


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