Chapter 6: Like Magic

Jaskier's head hurt.

No, it didn't just hurt. It was pounding.

He'd been hungover in his life, but there was hungover...and then there was the point where you were wishing for death. He had messed up. He had messed up everything with Geralt. He understood that the witcher was disgusted with him. Why wouldn't he be? He had been flirting with a suspected murderer. However, he had just been doing it because he had asked him to. It's not as if he wanted to sleep with Lannamar. He had thought he had made it painfully obvious who it was he wanted to sleep with from day one.

Jaskier clung to his hair, leaning over the porridge that had been slopped out of the bowl. He was seriously debating the probability of puking if he tried to get any of the thick gelatinous substance down.

He was an idiot. He had let himself get comfortable around Geralt. He had forgotten what had happened the last time. He wouldn't make the same mistake. Geralt didn't want a drunken mess drooling all over him, and Jaskier didn't want someone willing to toss him out on his ass in the middle of the night to go sleep with the horses.

"Not off to Lannamar's?" Geralt questioned, coming down the stairs of the pub as Jaskier's eyes snapped up from his grainy slop.

He frowned at the witcher who seemed to have dark circles under his eyes. "Never scheme before breakfast as a general rule."

"Naturally," Geralt agreed, sinking in next to him. Jaskier's stomach was swimming in nervousness as the other reached out and grabbed a piece of straw from his hair. "How's Roach?"

Jaskier frowned at that, cheeks heating in embarrassment as he fought the urge to swipe at his hair. "A good deal nicer than you, I would say," he bit out, forcefully taking a bite to land in his sour stomach.

Geralt snorted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed for the porridge. He pulled the spoon out of Jaskier's hands and took a bite of the tasteless nutrition. "We need to talk."

A frown came to his face at those words, reaching out to sip at the coffee he had managed to finagle this morning. "Let me guess...it's over, right?" He looked down at the table. "It's alright. You really don't have to go through the trouble."

"Over?" Geralt questioned. "What are you talking about?" He leaned in, frustration covering his face. "Jaskier we're not…"

"Geralt!" Jaskier's focus was broken away from Geralt at the sound of the voice entering the tavern.

They weren't, what? Over? A couple? Compatible?

More importantly...who was this woman? She had long luscious red hair, pale skin, and was beautiful enough that Jaskier knew she had been carved like all those sorceresses. Great...another witch. Geralt seemed to attract them.

"Triss?" the witcher questioned, pushing up from the table as he rushed over to the witch. "What are you doing here?" Jaskier's eyebrow rose at the almost panicked worry on Geralt's face. "Is she alright?"

Triss sighed, shaking her head as she pressed her palms to his chest. "She broke her leg."

"Fuck," Geralt's eyes were murderous. "How did you let this happen?"

Triss' mouth fell open at the assumption, rage coming to her features. "How did I let this happen?" she asked incredulously. "You run off and leave me saddled with your feral child, who I have to adamantly try to not let her kill herself in witcher training that you convinced her she needs!"

Princess Cirilla of Cintra.

The white wolf's child surprise.

"She is perfectly safe. I ran through all of those same obstacles," Geralt argued.

"Yes," Triss agreed. "And look how you turned out!"

Jaskier grinned behind his hand. He sort of liked her.

Geralt bared his teeth in frustration, and to Jaskier's surprise, Triss stood her ground as he glowered down at her. "For just one day, I would like for there not to be someone accusing me of being a monster. Just one!" Those yellow eyes turned towards him. "Jaskier, this is Triss Merigold."

The bard frowned at the name, having heard it before. Everyone had these days. "Triss Merigold died at Sodden Hill. I've seen her grave."

Triss shrugged, tossing the long red braid over her shoulder. "Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated."

"So I see," Jaskier managed, looking between them both. Geralt had Triss helping with Ciri? He trusted her that much to leave her at Kaer Morhen with his child? He hadn't left Yennefer, who would have clearly been more fit to train the lion cub. He had chosen Triss, a woman who was supposed to have died at Sodden Hill where so many of her comrades had perished. She hadn't died, however. She had found Geralt and his cub instead.

Her eyes trailed over him, and he rose an eyebrow at her speculation. "You're the bard who wrote all the songs about him, are you not?"

"He's a good source of inspiration," Jaskier admitted.

Triss gave a sharp laugh. "He is that. Yennefer hatttteddd you." She shrugged. "I can see why now."

"My charming personality?" Jaskier questioned, noticing the way Geralt had stiffened at the mention of his witch.

"Something like that," Triss agreed, amused smirk on her face as she glanced almost wistfully over at Geralt. "Suppose I never stood a chance."

"Triss," Geralt hissed, that same bared snarl still on his face. He must really be worried about Ciri. "That's enough."

She scoffed, waving her hand. "Fine fine...have your secrets." Triss crossed her arms as she looked at him. "She doesn't want to wait to heal. She's being difficult, and to honest I think that Eskel and Lambert are at their wits end."

Geralt scoffed. "They adore her."

"They adore their peace and quiet even more," Triss argued. "She's putting up quite a fuss. Seems to think she'll fall behind in her training."

"And you couldn't reason with her?" Geralt questioned.

Triss rolled her eyes at the very assumption. "Have you ever known her to listen to reason?"

"Hmm," Geralt growled to himself, looking down in frustration. "It's not a good time. I'm in the middle of a case."

"I'll be sure to tell that to your daughter when her leg gets sepsis and rots off," the witch countered.

"That isn't fair," the witcher argued.

"No," Triss agreed. "It isn't. But it's what needs to happen. Leave whatever you're working on. Your obsession over your hunts is nothing compared to her obsession to please you. She will break every bone in her body and keep going, rather than risk disappointing you." The frown on her face increased. "Don't disappoint her."

Jaskier took another bite of porridge, bile rising up his throat as he attempted not to vomit. "Geralt, you might as well go. It's not like you can do much for a bit anyways. You weren't invited into the castle."

Both sets of eyes rounded on him, one in frustration, and the other in amusement. Geralt cracked his neck as he watched him. "I'm not leaving you with a suspected murderer."

"Why?" Jaskier questioned. "What were you planning on doing? Grabbing some pitons and scaling the castle walls?" He shook his head at the assumption. "It's your kid, wolf. You've got to go."

"The song bird does bring up a good point." Triss walked over to the porridge, waving her hand over the bowl as she winked at him. "Try it now. I think it might help."

Jaskier hesitantly took a bite, sighing in bliss as the nausea and headache faded, leaving him refreshed for the morning. He looked up gratefully at the witch. "That's a wonderful trick."

"Magic never gets old," she stated as a fact. "Just want you at your best for your apparent mission."

"Fuck," Geralt growled underneath his breath. "Bard, walk with me to Roach. We'll go over the plan until I can get back."

Jaskier grinned at Triss as he slipped out of his chair, carrying his bowl over to the counter. "He's bossy in the morning. Think it's cause he's sober." Triss laughed at the joke, shooting an amused glance in the witcher's direction.

"Jas," Geralt snapped, clearly frustrated as he motioned them out.

"I heard you the first time," he teased him, beyond grateful that the sickness was at least gone as the anxiety of having to do this without the white wolf was starting to creep in.

Jaskier rubbed at the back of his head as he followed Geralt towards the stables. He could feel the tension in the air, not knowing if it was his fear about what happened to Ciri, or what had happened between them last night. If he had to guess, he didn't rank that high in importance levels towards the witcher, and so he was leaning towards Ciri. "I'm sure she's alright."

"I'm sure she's driving Vesemir up a wall. She hates to sit still," Geralt murmured, leading them into the stables. "So which pen did you sleep in?"

Jaskier spun on him, rolling his eyes as he saw the way Geralt was grinning despite how frustrated he seemed to be. "I'm so glad that my discomfort amuses you."

Geralt shook his head, mouth still tilted in amusement. "It was just completely asinine of you to leave our room and come sleep with the horses."

His spine stiffened at the words, whatever levity had been between them gone as a mask covered his face. "Forgive me, what with you throwing a jealous fit and tossing me out, I couldn't really focus on where to bed down for the night."

"You left when I told you to stay," Geralt argued. "You never listen to me. Just like I know you won't listen now if I ask you to come to Kaer Morhen."

"Right, so why ask? Does it feel better?" Jaskier questioned as Geralt growled in frustration. "I got Lannamar's attention, witcher. If I go now then it will have all been pointless. We will not get this opportunity again."

"You don't care about this hunt," Geralt pointed out. "Why would you put yourself in danger where I can't protect you?"

Jaskier shrugged. "I've always had a knack for putting myself in danger, and despite what you think, I'm good at this kind of thing."

"I searched you out for the job. I wasn't implying that you weren't," Geralt argued.

"What were you implying then?" Jaskier asked, not referring to what was happening. "Last night. Did you think I was going to let him fuck me? The way I let you?"

Geralt inhaled deep to try to quell his temper, but then seemed to decide against it as he stepped closer, grabbing both of his arms as he yanked him close. "I don't imagine anyone is going to be fucking you...the way I do."

"Did," Jaskier corrected, remembering when he said they were a mistake.

"I used the correct tense, bard. I may not be as fluent in words as you, but I know what present tense is." Geralt assured him, one hand traveling to his hip, and the other sliding into his hair. "I only ask one more time. Come with me. We'll figure out what to do with Lannamar when we get back."

Jaskier was in trouble, because at hearing the words, and feeling those fingers trace along the skin of his hip bone, his head became muddled. He wanted to agree. He wanted to do anything his wolf asked of him.

But what would that make him?

How would they last if he became boring to a man who might as well be immortal?

"We have our in, witcher." Jaskier said with finality. "Go be with Ciri. Let me do this." And prove he was worth a damn to be in his life. "I can help you." He reached up, fingertips tracing along the strong jaw that was currently clenched in anger. "I don't just want to be the source of everything bad in your life."

Yennefer helped him. He relied on her. She could hold her own.

Geralt seemed to be debating with himself, before he reached up and pulled the hands away from his face. "You're infuriating." He moved to walk away, but paused in his steps, turning back around with a sigh. "Be careful," he exhaled, clearly struggling. "Don't do anything foolish."

Jaskier smiled at the worry in that tone. "You know me wolf, nothing foolish."

The witcher rolled his eyes at the thought, but the heavy handed tension appeared to have dissipated. "Jas...be careful," he repeated, this time more serious as he grabbed at Roach's reins to lead her out to the trail.

"Tell your surprise I said hi," Jaskier said flippantly, feeling like there was a hole eating at his stomach. Why wasn't he going? Why was he pushing some hunt he didn't even care about? Why did he always have to be so stubborn?

"She'll be sad she missed you," Geralt said, gritting his teeth as he turned from him, and Jaskier did everything he could to prevent reaching after him as the witcher saddled Roach, and rode out to meet Triss. He tried not to think of the fact that he had backed himself into a corner where he was going to a castle alone to face down a murderer. He tried not to think about the fact that he'd much rather be with his witcher instead.

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