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The ground was damp. He absently ran his fingers over the dirt, watching how it stuck to his skin. There was yelling, or at least he thought there was. It sounded so far away. Cool hands suddenly gripped him, shaking him slightly. He turned his head to see amber eyes staring at him. He seemed worried about something but Jaskier didn't know what about.
The man in front of him was saying something but Jaskier couldn’t make it out, the noise all merging into one incoherent mess. The hands moved to his head, brushing over his scalp. Seemingly satisfied by whatever he had found, the man took his arms again and pulled him to his feet. Jaskier wobbled, almost falling back down with the sudden vertigo. He tried to say something, he wasn’t sure what, but all that came out was a slurred “nnnn…”
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember what was supposed to be going on and who this other man was. He seemed familiar. Jaskier quckly decided that whoever he was, he must be trustworthy. He let the silver haired man take his hand and lead him through the trees. He had no idea where they were going.
The air smelt of horse. Wait, there was an actual horse. Jaskier found himself lying down, his face resting on her neck. He didn’t know how he knew it was a lady horse, but it seemed right. He tried to push himself upright, almost causing him to fall. Strong arms came up to steady him. It was the man with the amber eyes. He looked worried.
“Wa’s wron’?” he mumbled, wanting to make whatever was upsetting the man go away.
He gave Jaskier a clearly forced smile. “Nothing, Jaskier. I’m going to find someone who can help you.”
“Me?” He was vaguely aware he should probably be concerned but he couldn’t quite manage the energy. Everything felt so distant and dulled. The only thing he could really focus on was the man.
“Don’t worry yourself. Everything’s going to be fine.”
Loud. Something was far too loud. No, someone was too loud. Raised voices broke through the haze in Jaskier’s mind, stabbing his ears with the volume of it. He wanted to cover them but found his arms were far too uncooperative. Instead he rubbed at his arms, trying to channel the nervous energy he felt. He tried to hum, just to drown it out but it sounded wrong, off tune and warbling.
Suddenly there was a warmth encompassing his head, covering his ears and muffling the noise. He opened his eyes, (and when had he closed them?), to see the silver haired man in front of him, a worried expression on his face.
Slowly, Jaskier began to take in his surroundings. They were in some kind of building, filled with people. It stank, but he wasn’t sure what off. It made him miss the horse from before but his friend was here so he must be safe.
There was more yelling, the amber eyed man turning to someone to the side to retort. Finally the sounds of shouting died down and the hands over his ears released. Jaskier let out a sigh, slumping forward to rest his head on the man’s chest since he was sitting directly in front of him. There was a moment of hesitation before arms came up to encircle him.
“Please, Jaskier. You need to eat something.”
“Hmm?”
“Jask? Please.”
They were outside. The sky was dark. How much time had passed? Jaskier looked around, trying to figure out where they were.
“Jask?” came the voice again. He turned to see his friend sitting beside him, looking very concerned.
“Wha’s go’n on?” he asked.
“Are you with me Jaskier?”
“Uhh...,” he looked down at himself and the space between them, not entirely sure what he was being asked. “Yes?”
His friend nodded, some of the tension leaving him. “Do you think you could eat some of this for me?”
Jaskier noticed then he was holding a bowl of… something. He wasn’t quite sure. But it smelt nice and it made his stomach growl, making him realise just how hungry he was. He gave a small nod to the amber eyed man.
The witcher lifted a spoonful of whatever it was up for Jaskier who was perhaps a little less coordinated than he though he was, almost succeeding in falling into the man and spilling the food everywhere.
He tried to correct himself with a jolt but overbalanced, sending himself backward instead. A large hand grabbed at his sleeve, pulling him upright again. “So’ry,” he mumbled as the man shuffled closed to let him lean against him. Jaskier suddenly realised how unsteady he had felt before now that he was safely pressed against his side.
The room was far too warm. Wait, room? Had they moved again? It was light outside. It was a different room from before, smelling pleasantly of herbs instead of whatever that other place had stank of.
Jaskier felt the urge to take off his doublet because of the heat but gave up on that idea when his arm got stuck half way out of one sleeve, the tight material too restrictive for his uncoordinated movements. He wanted to ask for help but he seemed to be alone. Where had his friend gone? Had he left him?
Jaskier thought about getting up to look for him but the room was spinning far too much. Maybe he was coming back? Yes, that must be it. Jaskier may not remember his name but he knew he wouldn’t leave him behind.
He went back to wrestling with his doublet, only succeeded in getting more worked up about it. He gave up when he accidentally slammed his hand into the table in front of him, eliciting a startled yelp at the sudden pain. How had he not noticed the table? He rubbed at his hand, trying to soothe the pain. It was fading fast, but he knew there would be a bruise later.
He was too preoccupied with his hand that he didn’t notice the other people enter the room until gentle hands took his injured one. He looked up to see familiar but concerned amber eyes. “What were you doing, Jaskier?” he asked ever so softly.
“Too warm,” he murmured. His friend helped him out of his doublet, carefully slipping his arms out of the fabric. Jaskier felt much better, and not only because he was a little cooler. There was someone else in the room he noticed then. A woman, wearing a long black dress. She seemed familiar too but not in the same way as his friend. He squinted at her, trying to figure out how he knew her. She couldn’t be dangerous if his friend was here too.
“Jaskier,” she said, sounding unimpressed. Alright, so she knew his name then. “You've managed to get yoursef into yet another idiotic situation I hear.” Her tone suggested she wanted some kind of reply but Jaskier honestly didn't know what she was on about. He had a feeling there was something he was missing as he only continued to stare at her in an attempt to figure things out. It was like his mind was wrapped in several layers of wool, keeping him from making any actual progress. He watched as her mask of indifference morphed into one of concern.
His friend broke the uncomfortable silence. “I told you it was bad Yen.” That name seemed familiar but he still couldn’t connect the dots.
“How long ago did it happen?” she asked as she walked toward him. Something in the way she moved made him want to run from her, but he reminded himself he was safe if his friend trusted her.
“About a week or so.” Jaskier didn’t know what had happened a week ago. Was that when the man had found him in the woods? But that was only a day or so ago. Right? Jaskier couldn’t help but feel like he ought to be panicking but instead he was detached, struggling to string his scant memories together to form something coherent. It made his head hurt.
Hands ran over his head. They were smaller than those belonging to the silver haired man, and yet significantly less gentle. There was an unpleasant buzzing in his skin wherever this “Yen” touched him. Something whispered chaos in the back of his mind but he didn’t know what it meant. He tried to jerk out of her grasp, only succeeding in almost toppling out of his seat.
“Easy, bard. I’m just trying to figure out what that mage did to you.” He looked to the amber eyed man, unsure of what to do. He gave him an encouraging nod so Jaskier decided to allow the woman to continue whatever it was she was doing. Her hands returned to his head, along with the buzzing feeling, running down his neck and stopping at his chest.
“Fuck, has he been eating at all?” she asked as she ran her hands down his sides.
His friend shook his head sadly. Jaskier wanted to make it better. “He struggles to eat unless he’s at least somewhat lucid. Otherwise he’ll just choke. Or resist me.” He sounded close to tears. And that couldn’t be right. His friend shouldn’t be sad.
Yen gave his friend a sad look, resting her hand on his arm. “I’m sure you tried your best.”
“’m sorry,” he said, feeling like he should say something though he wasn’t sure why.
“It’s not your fault, Jask,” he said.
The conversation continued on but Jaskier found himself unable to follow it, their voices sounding garbled. He found himself staring at a point on the floor, awareness fading as his vision blurred.
Jaskier woke in an unfamiliar room. He was yet to open his eyes but he could tell the room was bright behind his eyelids. He cracked one eye open, regretting it immediately when it sent stabbing pains straight into his skull. He flung an arm over his eyes to block out the light, letting out a groan.
“Jaskier?” a familiar voice said from somewhere nearby.
“Hmm?” he replied, not wanting to uncover his eyes to check.
“Are you with me?”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll take that as a yes then.”
Jaskier was thoroughly confused now. Where did Geralt think he would be? He risked opening his eyes again, only to be met with the same stabbing pain. “Too bright.”
“Shit, sorry. Yennefer said this might happen.” Jaskier could hear the witcher get up. The room dimmed considerably and Jaskier risked another peek. The light still made his head ache but it was bearable at least. He was in a room that looked far too expensive for it to be somewhere they had rented. The curtains had been drawn, sinking the room in a dim light. Geralt was sitting in a chair at his bedside, looking like he hadn’t slept in days.
“What’s going on Geralt?”
“What do you remember?”
“I… I don’t…” Something stirred in his memory then, a mage, a fight, a stray spell. Then fractured memories, following a man with amber eyes and silver hair who he couldn’t remember but trusted with his life. “That mage? Was I cursed?”
“Pretty much. Yennefer thinks it was meant for me, trying to rob me of my senses. But he missed and got you instead.”
“How long ago was that?”
“A little over a week.”
Jaskier tried to sit himself upright but found his arms were shockingly weak. He looked down at himself then, startled to find himself without a shirt. Even more shocking was the fact that he could see the clear outlines of his ribs.
“Wh-what happened?” he asked, unable to stop his voice from shaking.
“I’m sorry, Jaskier. I tried to get you to eat but you were so often too far gone to manage to even swallow. Twice you tried to get away from me and almost got yourself hurt. I didn’t want to force you-” he broke off. Jaskier could tell the past few days had been difficult for the witcher.
“Hey. You did your best. Give me a while and I’ll be right as rain and following you around like always,” he said, trying to comfort him. Geralt only nodded. Jaskier reached out an arm to rest on his knee, the closest part of him he could comfortably reach. “Thank you for saving me Geralt.” Jaskier knew he would always be alright as long as his friend was nearby.