AN: Okay I know that technically blade singing is a wizard only thing in DnD... But it really should be a bard thing. Also thanks so much to my wonderful beta TheOneandOnlyElla on AO3. I'm considering making a spotify playlist of all the songs in this fic. Yay or Nay?
Summary: Geralt's not scared of Jaskier, he's scared for him.
It was a quiet night, relatively. The fire was crackling, the forest animals were scurrying, and Jaskier was playing his lute. There were no lyrics, just a lovely melody that filled the night air. Yennefer was on the opposite side of the fire from Jaskier, nuzzled into Geralt's side as he stoked the fire up. It was a nice night. Geralt was content, his lovers hadn't argued in a few days or fought over who got to cuddle him in bed. He might actually get a decent night's sleep. Maybe he could finally get them to have the threesome he desperately wanted to try. The thought made a gentle smile come to his face.
"Can I ask you a question?" Yennefer asked suddenly, looking straight at Jaskier over the fire.
"Didn't you just?" he asked back, wiggling his eyebrows. She rolled her eyes. "Shoot. What's on your mind?"
"As a bard of the College…" she started, extracting herself from Geralt's arm to dig something out of her saddlebag. She returned a moment later, this time sitting closer to Jaskier with a book and a pen. "Did you ever study Blade Singing?"
And he was having such a nice night. They didn't notice Geralt freeze in his spot. He knew what Blade Singers were. They were a specialized type of bard trained in healing and combat magic. Time was a platoon of soldiers wasn't complete without a Blade Singer. They had songs that wove healing magic around the soldiers, but they were primarily fighters. With a specialized blade, they sang songs that allowed the blade to act independently of its master, functionally having a sword with no bearer fighting on the field. They were a dangerous thing.
"I did actually," Jaskier said with pride, puffing up his chest a little as he set down his lute. "Though I only took a couple semesters of it. I wanted to declare it as a minor, but I wasn't any good at it so I dropped and focused on composing instead."
No no no nonono. That isn't what Geralt wanted to hear. He'd fought a Blade Singer before, shortly after he set out on The Path. It was something he would never forget.
"Tell me everything," Yennerfer said with glee, her pen eagerly twitching. "I only read about them. I have a professional curiosity, you know."
Geralt didn't want to hear any of it. He didn't want to hear how Jaskier explained that Blade Songs are complicated, convoluted, and unique to each Singer. He didn't want to hear about how he'd crafted his song primarily for self defense. He didn't want to hear about how each part of the song, the tempo, the melody, the key, the words, all controlled a different aspect of fighting. He didn't want to listen to any of it. He wanted it to be a bad dream.
The Blade Singer he fought still haunted his nightmares. Her bloodlust had run so high and so strong that she'd Sung her Blade into sentience. Eventually the Blade possessed her and forced her onto a killing spree that had spread over most of the south. Geralt had been sent to stop her. When he finally found her after weeks of tracking, he found a corpse that had been killed ten times over already, but betrayed by her own healing song. Her Blade was forcing her to sing her healing song enough to keep her body walking and her song singing. He had to decapitate her, carve out her vocal chords, and burn them to make the song stop.
The image of that shambling corpse singing a broken and discordant song never left him. It didn't let him sleep properly for months following the fight. The song still played in his worst nightmares. It was shortly after that incident that Blade Singers went out of favor with armies. They would pop up every now and then, usually as mercenaries or assassins, but none that needed a Witcher to hunt them down.
"I'd love to see a demonstration," Yennefer said, her eyes sparkling. That shocked Geralt out of his stupor, gold eyes flashing to look desperately into blue that didn't glance in his direction.
"I don't think so," Jaskier said with a nervous chuckle. "I haven't practiced in years, I don't even think my Blade is sharp anymore, and I told you I was never good to begin with."
"You have your Blade on you? Can I see it?" If Geralt wasn't so terrified of the idea, he would have thought Yennefer's excitement was cute. She almost bounced as Jaskier went into his saddlebag and produced a long knife in a leather sheath. He passed it gently to her, and she drew the silvered blade. Even from across the fire, Geralt could feel the power that had already been sung into it. It frightened him. "And you made it yourself?"
"It's all part of the training," Jaskier explained. "A Blade made by you is more likely pliable to listening to you. Other blades can be sung, but they're more stubborn."
"Fascinating," she breathed, looking up and down the blade with fascination. "I really want to see a demonstration."
"I'm not really… I don't have a sparring partner." A lame excuse as Yennefer's eyes darted to Geralt. "Always better to see a swordsman work with a sparring partner and there's none here so-"
"Spar with Geralt," Yenneer suggested, a smirk on her painted lips. "No better swordsman on the continent to demonstrate on."
"No." Geralt's tone suggested an end to the conversation and Jaskier looked grateful.
But Yennefer didn't let up. "Oh come on, you can't be frightened of a bard with no skills."
Oof. That was a low blow to both of their egos. Jaskier puffed up his chest defensively, as if to refute that he did in fact have skill. Geralt just scoffed the deepest scoff he'd ever scoffed in his life. There was no way he was afraid of Jaskier. But he was frightened for his boyfriend. Terrified, in fact, that he'd end up like that Blade Singer he had to fell all those years ago. His eyes locked with Jaskier and his bard looked resigned. They knew Yennefer wasn't going to relent and they shared a deep sigh.
"I'll go easy on you," Geralt huffed, grabbing his steel sword and standing stiffly. He didn't want to do this, but maybe if they gave Yennefer the demonstration she was badly wanted they wouldn't have to go for long.
His bard only nodded, took his Blade back, and stood to face Geralt in the clearing. He reached down and grabbed the dagger from his boot, flipping it in his hand so he brandished the pommel instead of the edge. Geralt figured a long knife and dagger were perfect weapons for this lithe and sneaky little bard. Jaskier dropped into a semi-competent knife fighter's stance and started to sing.
Geralt almost missed Jaskier's first attack when he heard the song. It was so similar to the one the other Blade Singer sang. It was all Geralt could do to snap himself from his stupor and block the Blade that went for him. Damn it, Jaskier was fast. So fast, in fact, that if he was a normal human, Geralt was certain he wouldn't have been able to keep up. But as it was, he was a Witcher, and could follow Jaskier's movements, albeit with a little difficulty. The bard managed to keep himself constantly behind Geralt, right in the Witcher's blind spot, while his Blade remained in front of Geralt at all times. The two moved in perfect synchronicity, switching places whenever Geralt spun around. He felt the pomel of Jaskier's dagger come down on him a couple of times in places that, if it had been blade first, would have been very bad wounds.
The longer the fight went on, the more Geralt was glad Jaskier never volunteered his Blade Singing in battle. While his technique was solid, there was little strength and zero confidence behind his blows. He wouldn't have been able to fight this way with a monster, and he knew of none that could be felled with a dagger or a knife, no matter how quick. A dark part of Geralt realize that Jaskier had a very good base knowledge, and with some training could become a good warrior. Then coming on these hunts wouldn't be so dangerous, he could even help Geralt. That's what Blade Singers did anyway, they stayed back in safety while the Blade when into battle. It could wo-
Suddenly the song changed and Geralt was snapped back to attention when he felt a blade drag over his arm. He'd been distracted, he let the Blade get past his defenses but it was Jaskier's dagger that had struck him. The blade end, not the pomel end. An icy chill went down his spine and he turned slowly. Jaskier allowed Geralt to turn, stayed where he was instead of flipping around back to his blind spot. Geralt's blood ran cold when he saw his bard's face. It was the same face as that Blade Singer, the same bloodlust in his eyes. In a flash he realized why Blade Singers went out of favor. Something about the Songs turned these people bloodthirsty. That was the look on Jaskier's face as he lunged forward, ready to stab Geralt right in the heart. Instinct took over at that point, and Geralt backhanded his broadsword, whacking the flat of his blade against Jaskier's temple. It was enough to knock him to the ground and end his song. The Blade dropped to the ground and Geralt knelt before his bard, grabbed him by the collar, and pulled him up till their noses touched. Jaskier was still a little stunned and could only blink stupidly as he was manhandled.
"Do not ever do that again," Geralt growled. Jaskier shook his head, like he was trying to understand, but his ears were probably still ringing. Geralt huffed and stood, grabbing the Blade from the ground. Cursed thing. Geralt wanted to snap it, but he was sure Jaskier would never forgive him if he did. So he snarled and threw the blade down, turning back to his lover as he did. This bard who was still on the ground dazed, who had become so damned important to Geralt that he didn't want to see him end up like that corpse. He didn't want to have to be the one to kill him. "Do you understand me?! NEVER AGAIN!"
The shout made both his lovers jump. So rarely did Geralt raise his voice. Yennefer slowly closed her book and went to help Jaskier off the ground. She looked like she regretted ever bringing it up.
As for Jaskier, he stumbled to his feet. His head was pounding and ringing, he couldn't quite remember what happened. One second he was sparing, the next Geralt was yelling. But he didn't want to be in this woman's arms, this woman that he despised. Groggily he reached for Geralt, straining to be with the one person who made him feel safe. Yennefer wasn't expecting him to lean away so when he took another step towards Geralt, she couldn't hold him upright. He pitched forward, too dazed to stop himself from falling.
He felt something warm and blacked out.
The sun was gentle on Jaskier as he woke up. His temple was throbbing, and as he reached a hand up to it, he felt a large goose egg. Damn it. He didn't remember getting drunk, he didn't remember getting high, he didn't remember much. Fuck. He groaned loudly as he stretched and felt pain all up and down his body. A large, warm hand rubbed his back and Jaskier belatedly realized he'd been laying on his stomach. How out of it was he that he didn't even realize that? An arm was hanging off the bed and he pulled it back under the covers, leaning into the hand on his back.
"How are you feeling?" he heard Geralt whisper, and hummed happily at the voice.
"Like fucking shit," Jaskier muttered, rolling onto his side so he could press his back into Geralt's chest. He loved being the witcher's little spoon and it seemed Geralt was happy to oblige him. His arm wrapped around his bard's waist and pulled him close. "Mmmm You're so warm, Geralt. Please don't let go."
"I'm not letting go," Geralt said with a chuckle, nuzzling his face into the juncture between his bard's neck and shoulder. He pressed a soft kiss there and frowned a little. "How's your head?"
"It hurts. What happened?" Jaskier was half asleep as he asked his question, but forced himself awake as he felt his lover stiffen. "Ger? What happened last night?"
With a deep sigh, Geralt retold the tale from the night before in hushed tones. In even lower ones, he told his bard all about the Blade Singer he faced all those years ago. He told him about how much it frightened him seeing Jaskier fight like that. The entire time Jaskier listened, his fingers trailing over Geralt's hand and arm in nonsensical patterns that he knew the witcher liked. Enough of a touch to let him know Jaskier was there, alive and well and with him, because there were too many times where he almost wasn't. When Geralt's story was over, Jaskier turned over so he could face the love of his life and pressed a loving kiss to those perpetually chapped lips.
"I'm so sorry that happened to you," Jaskier hummed, his voice low like Geralt's was, not breaking the spell of peace that had fallen upon them.
"I don't want that to happen to you." Geralt's voice was pleading and Jaskier kissed him again, long fingers tangling in the long white locks. "Promise me you'll never do that again."
"I promise," Jaskier said with a nod, nuzzling their foreheads together. "Never again. I'll get the Blade melted down next time we pass a blacksmith."
"Thank you." Geralt pressed a loving kiss to Jaskier's forehead. Jaskier heard that language loud and clear. It was an obvious 'I love you' from the man who would never be able to get the actual words out.
"I love you too," Jaskier whispered back, a bright smile on his face as Geralt's eyes lit up like the sun. For a moment he wondered what he'd done to deserve such a perfect man.
And then Geralt was kissing him, softly, tenderly, wrapping strong arms around his bard and easing him onto his back. Jaskier let out a soft sigh and wrapped one leg around Geralt's hips. A brief glance to the left confirmed that Yennefer was still asleep, her back to them, and a smirk came to his lips. She hated it when they had sex when she was still in bed and usually he complied with that. After all, he wouldn't want to be in bed when they were fucking, watching that one time was bad enough. But that morning he didn't really care. In fact, he wanted to rile her up. They'd been getting more vicious with each other lately and he wasn't backing down. Besides, Geralt was so strong and warm above him and Jaskier was so eager for his touch. Geralt had been drifting away from him and sleeping more with Yennefer, which is probably why the two were arguing so much.
The feeling of Geralt's cock at his entrance snapped him from all thought of Yennefer. Jaskier was so relaxed that Geralt was able to slip in easily. They rocked together, muffling their moans and sighs with soft kisses, their hands running lazily over each other like they had all the time in the world. And maybe they did. There in that tent, with the sun muted by canvas, the world quiet in the early morning, they were the only people that existed. It was in these moments that Jaskier believed that everything would work out so peacefully. That he and Geralt might actually have a life together. That they could live together. Even raise his Child Surprise together as their own. Geralt was being so gentle with him, so loving, so intimate that Jaskier was sure his witcher really did love him too.
Climax surprised both of them, coming long and slow together, not the usual short and explosive endings they were used to together. It was all gentle and strange, but Geralt found himself liking it all the same. He nuzzled into the crook of his boyfriend's neck and breathed in his scent. Not just sweat and sex, but underneath that, lavender oil that he put into his hair, the rosin he rubbed into his lute that rubbed off on his face and neck every time he touched there, and a musky bergamot that was all his own. Lavender, rosin, and bergamot, a combination unique to his love and his love alone. He heard Jaskier mutter an incantation in Elder, something Yennefer taught him, and they were clean.
"Are you both done?" Yennefer's groan broke the spell they were under and both men looked towards her with tired eyes. She looked back at them with hate in her tired purple eyes. "That was disgusting to watch."
"Then next time turn your back," Geralt said with a lazy grin.
Jaskier chuckled, Yennefer glared, and Geral rolled his eyes, Back to normal once more.
AN: Short chapter this time, but the next couple will be quite a bit longer, I promise! Again, Spotify playlist? Yay or Nay, let me know!