Chapter Text
He knew the spell had hit him, the familiar, dizzying feeling of magic had crashed through his body like he was a ship in the waters of skellige. But nothing had happened, he felt entirely normal after the wave of magic had ceased its crashing. He couldn’t help but think it was worse this way.
He’d expected blinding pain or loss of autonomy, bodily or otherwise, but all that had followed the surge of chaos was a moment of dreadful anticipations followed by confusion and nothing.
The mage responsible was now incapacitated and tied securely to a tree, far enough away from Geralt that the residual chaos on them didn’t leave his medallion buzzing against his chest, but close enough to keep a watchful eye on them. Killing the mage may have worked better, having them sent somewhere their chaos could be properly contained would have been ideal, but he couldn’t risk letting them out of his sight, especially couldn’t let them die, not when there was some unspecified magic coursing through his body that didn’t seem to be affecting him in any way.
Yet. Hadn’t done anything yet. He wouldn’t have survived this long as a Witcher if he let his guard down that easily.
Since the spell, or curse, or charm or whatever it was that was had been cast, Geralt was pacing back and forth waiting for the bound mage to regain consciousness and tell him what they’d done, or for something to actually happen. Whichever came first at this point.
Right now he’d like nothing more than to return to the village and soak in a bath until his fingers wrinkled and he didn’t have to worry about over-zealous magic users abusing their power. But of course, his luck couldn’t stand to be that good and he couldn’t just saunter into a populated town while some spell or other just waited to be triggered inside of him.
While Blaviken was no longer fresh in anyone’s mind, the last thing he needed was some village mage’s curse causing the next incident that had him tossed out of every town he had tossed out of every town he ever stopped at.
And this time there was Jaskier waiting for him. While the parasite himself could be annoying and was here of his own volition, Geralt wouldn’t knowingly put him in danger. Sitting it out here was his only remaining option then.
He grimaced, glancing up at the mage, who was still as dead to the world as they’d been last time Geralt checked.
He could only hope that they would wake up before the spell’s effect began to take hold, being caught unawares was very much the last thing he needed to add to today’s misfortune.
Sheathing his sword, Geralt settled onto the forest floor, letting his eyes slip shut. His other senses would alert him to the mage’s consciousness when the time came, for now, he hoped meditation would help keep him calm, pass the time, and give no reason for any curse to be activated.
Which would have worked perfectly well if an all too familiar voice hadn’t broken his focus mere moments after he felt himself begin to slip in concentration.
“Would it kill the man to give me a heads up when he plans to disappear?” He heard the bard mumble, seemingly to himself.
“Gods, this damned jungle keeps getting thicker every time I trudge through it after that pig-headed Witcher.”
Followed quickly after.
Normally, the approaching chatter of Jaskier post-contract was a welcome nuisance, but now, even despite the bit of comfort that rose unbidden into his chest, he dreaded the possible side effects the magic may have on the people around him, especially his danger-magnet of a bard.
“Jaskier!” He shouted, hoping he caught the man a safe distance away from himself.
“Geralt? Woo! I thought you’d been hurt worse than normal!” The bard shouted back from somewhere just a bit too deep in the woods for Geralt to see, still approaching steadily.
“Jaskier, stop walking!”
“Wish he’d say that more when we’ve been walking all day,” Jaskier muttered, but the footsteps stopped all the same.
Geralt rolled his eyes, his lips forming a smirk before he could stop it.
“If I’m standing here like an idiot in the woods just because of some witchery potions side effect I swear to melilite I’ll slap him.” Geralt felt his eyebrows furrow at the sound of Jaskier’s voice, how did the bard even know about that?
“Are you coming here or am I going there?” Jaskier shouted the crunching of leaves giving away the man shifting foot to foot, the way he does any time he’s made to stand still for more than a minute at a time.
Geralt ran his hand over his face as he thought through the situation at hand. There was no way Jaskier would stand there until the mage woke up, and even less of a chance that he’d turn back to town without a reason he understood.
“The weather’s lovely today,” He heard Jaskier muse, deepening the confused wrinkles between his eyes.
“Come here, just keep your distance from me!” He compromised. It’s best to have Jaskier in his sights and he could always tell the man to run if things started to go south. This way he had control over the situation anyhow.
“Good to know I’m standing in the woods for no reason,” Jaskier spoke in a sarcastic tone as the crunching of leaves began approaching again.
He continues to mutter and curse as he plowed through an unnecessarily grown-in section of the forest, finally appearing through the tree line plucking leaves out of his hair with an undignified flick towards the ground. The trail made for human trekking was only a few feet from where Jaskier pushed through the woods, but Geralt figured he’d keep that bit of knowledge to himself for now.
“How close is keep your distance? Do I stop here? Oh? He doesn’t look like he drank any Witcher juice, wonder what’s holding him up. Who’s that? How does he get Roach through this jungle all the time?”
Geralt could barely get a thought through his head at the rate Jaskier was speaking through his own.
“Jask, please.” Geralt spoke through gritted teeth, needing a moment of silence to explain the situation.
“Please what?” Jaskier answered, the words sounding oddly different than the previous onslaught of words.
“Just stop talking for a damn second.”
“I’ve barely said a word since I got here. Maybe the physical bit of his potions wore off and it’s just heightened senses. Am I being too loud?”
“Jaskier!” Geralt shouted, trying not to let his frustration get out of hand.
The bard tenses up at the raised volume for a moment before settling back down, rocking on his heels.
“Just-” Geralt took a steadying breath to calm himself down, guilt shooting like a lightning bolt through him when he saw Jaskier startle from his anger.
“Quiet.”
“How much quieter can I get? I might as well have stayed stood in the forest like a tree. He still hasn’t even told me who he’s got tied up over there. It’s good technique though.”
Geralt froze then on the spot, as it finally hit him why Jaskier seemed unable to not speak.
Because he wasn’t. His lips weren’t moving at all, and the reason his words spoken out loud sounded so odd was because those went through his ears instead of being funnelled straight into his skull.
The tone and volume were always the same, the way he assumed Jaskier heard his voice in his own head.
Well, he thought, now he knows what the curse is.