Chapter Text
"It's not a curse I have heard of before lad. It sounds like old magic. The caster would need to include a cure. It may be an almost unachievable one, but it is a cure none the less. There is always an expression of true love, that tends to work for these old curses." The old Witcher stroked his beard in thought. The bard sitting across from him at the table, twirled a small green leaf between his fingers.
"It wouldn't work." The brunette sighed, not looking away from the leaf held in his fingers. Vesemir leaned forward, and rested his elbows on the table. A calloused hand took a hold of Jaskier's, the one not holding the leaf. It caused the bard to look up and into golden eyes. They were so similar to the ones Jaskier had followed for over 20 years.
"I wouldn't give up hope yet lad. Geralt, he cares for you. More so than that Witch, I am sure of that."
"That doesn't amount to much at the moment Vesemir and you know it." The bard laughed, but it held no humour. He sounded defeated. The Witcher frowned, seemingly unhappy with Jaskier not believing him.
"Before recent events, Wolf always spoke of you each Winter. He always missed you and looked forward to meeting up with you come Spring. You bard, not the Witch. He may not have admitted it to himself, but he does love you lad."
A lone tear cascaded down the bard's cheek. As Jaskier shaked his head, Vesemir's frown deepened. The human could tell that Vesemir was growing fustrated, thinking that Jaskier didn't believe him. Oh he did, Jaskier saw it Geralt's eyes when he rescued the bard from that cell. Geralt cared for Jaskier. The White Wolf had missed his bard. That hug, it was as if Geralt had been scared that Jaskier wasn't real, that he could disappear at any second. There was love there.
"I know he loves me, in his own Geralt way. I like to think it is the same kind that I hold for him. Or I would have thought that, about a month ago. I would be crying tears of joy. I can't...The cure, it's impossible. For this to stop, I have to stop loving him."
Jaskier dropped the leaf onto the table. He then rubbed the back of his neck, fingers brushing something smooth. He took hold and pulled, winced and dropped another leaf onto the table. Hesitantly, a calloused hand reached towards one of the leaves, then hovered. After a defeated nod offered by the bard, Vesemir picked up a leaf. Jaskier wasn't surprised when the Witcher gave it a sniff.
"It really is an Holm Oak leaf." Jaskier knew what the old Witcher was thinking, or he could make a good guess. After that Doopler that took on Eskel's form, then mutated into some Leshy thing, Vesemir had wondered if the same was happening to Jaskier. The old Witcher wanted to know if he would need to save his son the heartache and would have to kill a Leshy-bard, so Geralt wouldn't have to.
"Yep, I'm turning into genuine Oak tree. Soon, I'll be some real quality desk in some stuffy professor's office. I swear, if they ever get that weasel Marx to teach at Oxenfurt, burn me if I end up in his office."
Jaskier felt his cheeks burn as he tried maintain a smile. It was false, Vesemir knew it was false, but he still kept the painful smile on his face. He smiled, even when the tears flowed freely.
"They won't be back for a while lad, you can let it out." With the old Witcher's permission, the bard wailed.
XXX
Geralt was finishing loading up Roach, Yennefer and Ciri were similarly tending to their mounts. Coën, Eskel and Lambert were talking to the little family. Vesemir had placed a hand on Jaskier's shoulder, silently requesting the bard to hang back for a second.
"You're not going to tell them?"
"No. They already got so much on their plates, they don't need this as well."
"They could help you find a cure."
"Or drive themselves insane trying to find a solution that cannot be fixed. I can't do that to him Vesemir. Geralt already has trouble letting people close to him. How do you think he would react, knowing that my love for him is slowly turning me into a tree?"
The Witcher nodded, looking resigned. It was clear that Vesemir had already come to the same conclusion that Jaskier had, the old swordmaster just wanted to confirm that they were on the same page. "What will you do now then?"
"I shall spread stories of misinformation regarding Geralt and Ciri. Whilst doing that, I shall endeavour to fall out of love with Geralt. Easy peasy." A mirthless chuckle escaped the bard. He had felt helpless a lot since confessing to Vesemir. The Witcher had offered him a safe place to go to, when the reality of his fate would become too much for him.
"I'll research into your curse futher. I may have some old connections that could shed more light. That said...if you feel that your time is up...please return here Jaskier. I will look after you."
"I expect to be surrounded by lots of pretty flowers. Even as a tree, my presence should always assult Witchers with a splash of colour." The bard bit his bottom lip, an attempt to hold something in. He was not sure if it was a laugh or a sob. The hand on the bard's shoulder gave a comforting squeeze. A shuddering breath escaped the bard, he had come to rely so much on the old Witcher recently. Something he had felt incredibly guilty of, considering how many of his pupils the man had to bury recently. Vesemir had assured Jaskier that helping the human, kept the Witcher active, helped kept his mind off recent events. Jaskier didn't buy it.
"I'll ask Nenneke how she is able to keep such rare flowers in bloom. We'll make the Blue Mountains the new Valley of Flowers." Witchers had such kind smiles when they were given the chance to offer one. They must hold some form of magic, as Jaskier felt a genuine smile on his face.
"Is Geralt the only Witcher allergic to poetry?" Vesemir hummed, which caused Jaskier to snort. A miniature Dol Blathanna would do lovely in the Witchers' home. Maybe Lambert to even carve a bird house that is a replica of a certain tavern in Posada.
"They are ready to go now lad. I wish you luck." Vesemir gave the bard a solid pat on the shoulder, then carefully nudged him forward. Jaskier quietly thanked the old Witcher, before strutting over to Eskel, who was looking back at him with a smile. Eskel brought the human into a firm hug. Jaskier was quickly pulled away by Lambert and given a noogie. As the bard tried to fight off the redhead, Coën caught Jaskier's dropped belongings and handed them to Geralt.
Soon, Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer were on top of those horses and Jaskier swung his lute round to his front. With a strum of his lute and a spring in his step, the bard lead their little party onwards. That was until Geralt huffed in amusement, picked the bard up and dropped on the back of new Roach. "You are not going to be the one leading us down the Killer."
Instead of being offended, the human laughed brightly. He swung round so that his back was resting against Geralt's and continued to play a jig about a wolf that had a vendetta against fish. A fun song that told of the increasingly absurd ways, a wolf tried to obtain fish from a lake. Lambert gave Jaskier the middle finger.
Only one of the Witchers knew the true reason for the tear rolling down the man's cheek. It was from saying a goodbye, but one that held a lot more weight than the others understood.
XXX
Spreading false information regarding the whereabouts of a certain White Wolf and Lion Cub, was a rather easy fête for Jaskier. Trying to rid himself of the love he held for Geralt, absolutely hopeless. If his love could withstand all the bumps that the pair of them had ready faced together on the Path, there was nothing that could destroy it. His love had already planted its roots deep into Jaskier's heart, to remove it, could potentially destroy him. There would be too many cracks left behind, he would surely shatter.
Jaskier knew this, Rience knew it too. The Mage could see his unwavering love for Geralt a mile off. Knew that his love was steady and would stand the tests of time. So he cursed Jaskier. Used Jaskier's love against him. It was only once Jaskier rid himself the roots of his love, would he find himself free of planting his own in the earth. Rience doomed him, the Mage was well aware of this. Tapped into the same soul destroying chaos to wield fire, to cast that curse, making it pretty much impossible to break. Jaskier knew then that he was going to die, well he assumed turning into a tree was close enough to death. Rience knew this, knew that he was unlikely to get any information for Jaskier. Yet moved to the torture for the hell of it.
Poor Yennefer, the Witch thought she had saved his life that night. He didn't have time to correct her after the 'rescue' and neither the heart to at Kaer Morhen. She had shown genuine care towards him. Yennefer asked how his fingers were; enchanted his coat to aways keep him warm, even in the mountains and just chatted with him. He had grown to care for her. It wasn't the same as what he felt for Geralt. It appeared no one could replicate the feelings he had for his Witcher.
Jaskier had been chasing that love. Hunting for it in other people, whilst singing his songs. For if he could fall for another the same way, maybe he could fall out of love for Geralt.
At first, Jaskier thought he found it with Vespula. She had a spark to her that he adored. She was beautiful in so many ways and was feisty. It wasn't the same. She knew of his curse. Explaining why the back if his calves had the same colouring as bark, would had be difficult. Or it was more the fact of coming up with something that Vespula wouldn't immediately call bullshit on.
She actually encouraged him to go find love in the arms of someone else. She just had issue with Jaskier constantly returning with a wounded heart and another patch of discoloured skin. He was using her and she was aware of it. This was why his belongings were often thrown out of the window. They weren't good for each other, but they also were.
Jaskier relied on her, she made him feel safe in a way that Geralt could not. She knew and Geralt didn't. He hurt her as there was proof on his skin, that he did not love her the same way he loved Geralt. However, she knew that she did not love Jaskier like that either. Oh she cared for him, as good friend with benefits. Vespula was happy that Jaskier could find refuge in her. It just stung to have a visual reminder that Jaskier's love, belonged to another.
Then she told him to pursue a Prince. The clever woman saw that Jaskier had a crush on the man. She knew that a crush could grow into something more, so she pushed him on. It scared Jaskier really. The thought of possibly loving someone as much as he did Geralt. Enough so, that these new roots of love, could replace the ones that currently held his heart together for Geralt.
It scared him, but it was a chance. It was a chance save Geralt finding out that Jaskier was cursed for his love of the Witcher. It was a chance to save Geralt of possible pain. It was a chance to live. It was a selfish reason to pursue a possible relationship, just Jaskier couldn't let this chance pass by.
XXX
Turns out being by Geralt's side, made the curse progress quicker. It wasn't fair really. Stupid stunning looking man, openly showing how much he cared for his daughter's safety. Of course it made Jaskier fall harder.
The bastard didn't even know how loveable he was. Didn't know how much Jaskier was wrapped around his finger. Geralt didn't know that the dark patches of skin on the bard's calves and back, had turned to black bark. That Jaskier was literally becoming a barker. If Jaskier could help it, Geralt would never find out about this curse.
Jaskier was actually somewhat thankful of his new development of his curse, after accepting his role as bait. Of course their plan had gone tits up and they were attacked by Elves. Of course they did not lure, only Rience out. Their plans hardly ever went right, so it was good that Geralt was skilled at rolling with the punches. Jaskier was not skilled in that department. Well, he was skilled at thinking quickly on his feet, not actually punches. Fighting, Geralt was good at fighting, Jaskier was not. It was inevitable really. For the bard flitting about on a battlefield, to get injured.
The arrow had hurt. By the Gods it had hurt. It would have killed him, if not seriously wound him, if he had not been cursed. If his back was not slowly becoming a rather hardy plant, that arrow would have pierced a lung. It made sense for Geralt to think that his lute had taken the brunt of the attack. All the Witcher would have heard was an arrow striking wood. The resistance Ciri felt as she pulled out the arrow free of blood, she would have put it down to the arrow head getting caught on his coat.
They didn't know and it would stay that way until Jaskier found a cure, or...well. Jaskier wouldn't really be in a state to object Vesemir spilling his secret, once he fully became a tree. Maybe Jaskier should have a letter prepared for them. First, he'll help Geralt track down more information on Rience's location. Hopefully, he'll be able to avoid a certain owl in the mean time.
XXX
Geralt had really taken Jaskier's fear of Rience to heart. Yes, the insane Mage was after his daughter, his world. Ciri had Yennefer though and the young warrior knew how to fight. Should the Mage come after Ciri, she would have a fighting chance. Jaskier did not. Geralt knew this, so kept Jaskier close.
They all knew that Ciri was the Mage's priority, but Jaskier was their weak human that they had all grown attached to. Rience knew that Jaskier was helping Geralt and Yennefer protect Ciri. The Mage knew that Jaskier was the perfect candidate to be kidnapped and used as bait for a trap. It therefore made sense that Geralt would protect Jaskier, to avoid the bard getting picked up and tossed through a malevolent portal and into torture basement.
It wasn't just that. Geralt wasn't just keeping an eye on Jaskier so that he wasn't used as bait. No, the kind-hearted fool, listened to Jaskier. He heard the tremor in the bard's voice when he spoke about Rience. Geralt recognised that Jaskier was still terrified of the Mage. The Witcher wanted to be there for Jaskier.
He never outright said it of course; probably thought it to himself frequently, but Jaskier could tell. Geralt would put himself in front of the bard when there was a fire. The Witcher would often pull him onto the back of Roach, without Jaskier even voicing a complaint. Often, Jaskier found Geralt's cloak thrown over him, despite his coat still being enchanted. Geralt would give him small gifts found along the Path when collecting ingredients for potions. Small things, like a shiny stone or a flower.
His thighs started to change colour.
Oh Jaskier's heart couldn't take it when Geralt would ask for advice on how to help Ciri. Those beautiful golden eyes, would soften like warm honey. The man that could fight a bear with no weapons, would get embarrassed as he asked Jaskier. Then looked so grateful when Jaskier offered any recommendations.
Jaskier didn't feel hunger anymore. At least not in the same way.
When they did part, it was usually only for a short while. They gathered more information after all, when apart. Geralt aways found him. Would always great Jaskier with a relieved smile. Geralt would then linger close to Jaskier, for at least a full day after reuniting. Sometimes, Geralt even took hold of the bard's hand as he led the pair of them to their next destination.
Jaskier found himself energised under the sun's rays.
He was doomed. There was no way that he could fall out love with Geralt. Not with how tender the Witcher was being. Not when the white-haired man had learnt to open up. Not when Jaskier was getting used to the easy smiles, the unrestricted laughs and gentle touches.
It was looking like Jaskier would need to place his fate in the hopes that killing Rience would break the curse. Geralt would kill the parasite of a man, Jaskier knew that without a doubt. He just didn't know if it would be in time.
XXX
Radovid learnt how to play the lute for him. For a moment, the roots buried in his heart shifted. They moved to make room for something new. This new love, it felt precious. Something fragile, that had the potential grow into something robust.
It was a feeling that flooded Jaskier's entire being. He felt weightless. As if he once had chains around his ankles keeping grounded and they suddenly broke. He felt free.
They made love. Good thing about travelling with a Witcher, was that people hardly questioned the bandages. Radovid had been concerned and it made Jaskier so tempted to explain everything. He held it in, for wanting to not ruin the mood. Come morning, Jaskier would tell the Prince. Tell Radovid that he had given Jaskier hope for a future.
Hope was often described as something fragile, as was love. Something being fragile, meant it could break. Jaskier almost felt himself break in 2, finding Radovid hovering by a bed previously occupied by a Princess. His new life line had been severed and Jaskier found himself falling.
He couldn't remember what he told the Prince to get him to leave. He was too lost in his own turmoil. The roots made by his love for Geralt, moved back to their rightful place with a violent snap. It robbed him of his breath. Yet he was able to scream in anguish.
By sheer loyalty, Jaskier was able regain his senses enough, to realise that he needed to find Ciri. He needed to know where she was. Needed to see that she was OK. Curse be damned! If she was needed help, he would crawl to her side if need be. The world doesn't even know how much it needs that little girl. She truly was magnificent.
Jaskier ran. He fact that he lost feeling in his toes, was irrelevant.
XXX
Yennefer was relieved to see that Jaskier was unharmed. She hugged him closely and for a moment, he felt safe. The Sorceress was alive. She was powerful and brilliantly smart. If there was a problem, no doubt she would already be working on it.
The rugged was pulled from under him once again. Ciri was missing and Geralt was mortally wounded. Triss had taken the Witcher to Brokilon to get him medical attention. Jaskier felt his heart falter. Geralt had been in such a bad condition, that none of the magic users present could help him? Yennefer wasn't by his side and was instead here? Jaskier couldn't understand why she wasn't already trying to hunt down Ciri.
None of it made sense to him. The only thing that did make sense, was that Geralt was hurt. The White Wolf was possibly dying. Jaskier needed to be there. He either needed to be there so that Geralt wouldn't be alone in his final moments, as apparently Triss hadn't stayed with him. Or Jaskier would need to help Geralt recover, so he could hunt down his little girl. No force possible could stop the Witcher from finding and protecting his child.
Jaskier ran.
XXX
He no longer had feet. They were just stumps stuck in a pair of boots. Very fine looking boots, but still a pair stuck on the bottom of his legs. He screamed and wailed when he first saw them. He almost fainted when he saw roots try to wiggle into the ground below him, when he placed his 'feet' on the ground. The boots never came off after that. Even if he could feel the roots grow in the void space that previously housed his toes, he kept the boots on. Geralt needed help, which he couldn't really provided his stuck in one spot.
Well, he wasn't really much help to Geralt at the moment. The Dryads were the ones treating the Witcher's wounds and helping him train. Jaskier was just there for moral support really. Although sometimes, it felt like Geralt was the one supporting Jaskier.
It had been...difficult... seeing Geralt like that. The older man knew, as he used what little strength he had, to take hold of Jaskier's hand. That wonderful, beautiful, treasure of a man. He put Jaskier's wellbeing above his own, when he looked like death warmed over. Jaskier loved him with his entire being.
Geralt was truly a man with a heart of gold. He even held Jaskier as the bard cried, when Geralt announced Rience's death. Poor sweet Geralt, probably thought Jaskier was crying out of relief. No, Jaskier was crying, as he knew he was still cursed. Killing Rience did not break it and he was still hopelessly in love with Geralt. Jaskier was to become a tree, yet he would not leave Geralt's side.
The next day Milva told him that 'Jaskier was not Geralt's friend and that he was only tagging along, to get one more song when Geralt dies'. He played it off with a joke, but he was so close to screaming at her. Sure, she didn't know that staying by Geralt's side was causing him to 'die' quicker. Jaskier could give her a pass on that, even if it hurt to brush that off. However, Milva had been there when Jaskier first arrived. Coming to Brokilon was pretty much a death sentence for a human. So really, Jaskier waltz in to almost certain death for someone that wasn't at least a friend?
He knew that Milva spoke from a place of care. She was protective over Geralt, but was grumpy about it. She was like Geralt when he first met the Witcher all those years ago. That ended well in the end, sort of. Well the ending was not the most ideal for Jaskier, but the bond he was able to build with Geralt, was his greatest accomplishment. Milva would grow to tolerate Jaskier, if he had enough time.
The Dryads recognised that Jaskier was a friend of Geralt, at least They even offered him the Water of Brokilon. They knew that he was cursed. The water was offered as a potential cure. They had advised him that it was unlikely to work. The water was used to turn young girls into Dryads and Jaskier was neither young enough, nor female. Eithné had actually shown sorrow on her face when she out that it didn't work. She gave Jaskier her blessing as they left. He was greatful for it, he really was. He just didn't know if it would help. Fuck, he wished it did. They needed all the help they could get. There was a precious girl out there, that needed their help afterall.
XXX
He was running out time. The Hansa, his family, they were close on Ciri's trail. They were so close to saving her, but Jaskier couldn't jump over that last hurdle. He would need to leave his family of misfits to tackle Stygga Castle on their own, without him. Not that there was much he could do. Well, that had been the same really for their whole quest, but Jaskier had been there.
He just...couldn't stay anymore. His whole body was covered in bark now, he had to wear padded clothes to give the illusion that he still had skin. Every morning, he had to wake early and pull out the leaves growing in his hair. He had grown taller than Geralt, so had to hunch around the Witcher to appear smaller. It was a difficult task, as he had also grown broader.
He didn't want to leave them, he had grown so close to them all. He loved them all. Milva, Cahir, Regis and Angoulême, they meant the world to him. He really, really did not want to leave. He wanted to hold onto them for ever. He wanted to share more stories over a fire and laugh together. He wanted to have fish soup and join in with the others, teasing Geralt when he was pouting.
Only Regis knew the real reason why Jaskier was leaving. He was their medic afterall. He would discreetly check on them all often, to make sure they were alright. It was a given that Regis would eventually spot something. What the Vampire spotted, was Jaskier pulling Catkins from his hair. A rather big clue that something was wrong with the resident bard really.
To think, there was a time when Jaskier felt uneasy around the Vampire. He soon became a source of comfort, in a similar way as Vespula. They never slept together like he did with Vespula, but that didn't mean that Jaskier was opposed to the idea. If he was not cursed, maybe he would have entertained the idea. Now, Jaskier just didn't have the drive to. He didn't have the drive to do most things, but forced himself to carry on as normal to avoid suspicion. Regis allowed him to not pretend. The Barber Surgeon would make some medical excuse to pull Jaskier away from everyone else and just allow him to decompress. No one ever questioned it, Jaskier was a human in his 40's, he was bound have ailments.
Well, Geralt did notice. His brows would furrow in a way that Jaskier was particularly find of. He would ask Regis what Jaskier needed to be healthy, and run off to collect whatever ingredient the Vampire requested. Geralt would watch Regis brew the concoction and ensure that Jaskier would take it at the times their Barber Surgeon suggested. It was a drink filled with nutrients a tree would find in soil. Geralt didn't know that. He thought it was simple remedy, to reduce pain for humans. Reduce swelling from inflamed joints caused by walking all day.
Jaskier cried into Regis shoulder the first time Geralt made the brew himself, handed it to the bard after dinner, as requested by the Vampire. Regis had pulled him away that night, claiming to look at Jaskier's ankle, as the bard had stumbled earlier that day. The care and the worry that Geralt openly showed that he had for Jaskier, in front of all of them, was incredibly endearing. So was Geralt's quiet request each night that Jaskier sleep by him, for warmth. So was Geralt's farewell, before they parted for the last time.
XXX
It was the shouts coming from the Courtyard, which alerted him first. Vesemir ran to whatever threat had dare approach his boys. The harsh winter winds, stole the warmth from his skin, as soon as he opened the main doors. The scene he walked on to, stole his breath. Coën, Eskel and Lambert had their weapons drawn. His eldest Wolf had his hand ready in the sign of Igni.
Vesemir threw Quen around their guest. Flames engulfed the shield, it shattering caused an explosion, which knocked the younger Witchers back. Vesemir charged forward, his hands clasping around large discoloured ones. He didn't really blame his boys for their reaction, Jaskier was hardly recognisable like this.
His visage was similar to that of a Leshen, mildly. Jaskier was not as willowy as a Leshen. He was almost as wide as he was tall, which was almost double comparered to how Vesemir saw him last. His body was not made out of twisted vines, but solid wood, covered in finely cracked dark bark. His clothes were gone, his body no longer affected by the temperature. There were no longer any parts of his body that required extra protection. Oddly enough, there was fabric wrapped and his leg stumps. Chestnust locks had been replaced with smooth dark green leaves. Not yet covered in bark, his face and neck was discoloured. There were small patches that looked harder than the rest, already turning into bark. The eyes were the same. Still cornflower blue and swimming in tears.
This poor boy. All he did was love one of his sons. Travel with his son, keep him company of the weary Path. Give his son friendship and offer a safe place. He offered Geralt kindness when the world seemed to lack it and this was the consequences.
"How long lad?"
"A couple days at most." Jaskier's shoulders lowered in defeat. The movement was rigid. It was expected, considering what the boy was becoming, but it was unnerving. Swallowing hard, Vesemir nodded and patted the hand that had once been so dainty, compared to his own.
"Alright bard. Rest tonight and tomorrow I'll take you to the spot I prepared for you." The cursed human whispered a thank you, which Vesemir did not feel that he deserved. Especially when a tear landed on his hand.
Not letting go of the trembling hand in his grasp, Vesemir guided Jaskier into the Keep. A harsh glare thrown at the younger Witchers, was enough to silence them for now, but he knew that a difficult talk awaited them. It was a miracle that Lambert complied. Then again, his youngest was smart, he could tell that now was not the time. He was greatful that the young Witchers kept to themselves, so that Vesemir could guide Jaskier to a room to rest in. It had to be one on the ground floor, as the upper levels, did not have doors big enough to allow Jaskier to enter.
Once the bard had settled, Vesemir made his way back to the main hall, his head bowed. Wordlessly, he poured himself a drink; one that Lambert had brewed, and downed it. The quiet hung around them for a brief moment, before Lambert broke it.
"What the fuck is happening Old Man? You called that thing bard and there is only one bard that I can think of, that would know how to get here!" The young Wolf's face was scrunched up in an angry mask, to hide the panic he truly felt.
It was understandable. Even though their time with the bard had been brief, they could not dispute the impact he had on their family. That silly, brightly coloured human, had been singing their praises for years. That soft squidgy human, had approached the broodiest of the Wolves and claimed him as a friend. That indefatigable windbag of a human, won over Geralt's heart.
"His cursed. Geralt's bard was captured by that fire Mage."
"Rience? He cursed Jaskier, I heard that the bastard was killed by Geralt." Eskel scratched his cheek, eyes gazing in the direction he knew Jaskier was resting.
"Aye, Wolf sent a letter confirming his death. The Mage caught Jaskier to get information on Geralt and Ciri. When it was clear that he wouldn't get the answers he wanted, he cursed the bard."
"Killing the fucker, usually breaks the curse. Why is the bard like that?" Lambert looked lost. None of them, apart from Geralt knew that Rience had gotten a hold of Jaskier. Coën sighed and crossed his arms. "Fire magic is forbidden for Mages to use for a reason. It consumes their soul to wield it. It stands to reason that for a Mage to use fire magic with such little regard of its price, would use forbidden magic to curse another."
"No." It had been a long while, since Vesemir had heard Lambert sound so defeated. The older Witcher understood. When all his contacts came back with no solution to Jaskier's curse, he felt helpless.
"Does...does he know how to break it?" Eskel asked, his eyes still trained on where he knew Jaskier was. When Vesemir hummed one sad note, Eskel turned his attention to him. The old Witcher was disappointed in himself for causing Eskel's face to drop.
"Aye, aye. The lad knows. He has to stop loving Geralt, or he will turn into a tree...He has days."
"Fuck!"
"Shit!"
"Oh Melitele!"
They spent that night getting shitfaced.
XXX
They were all gone. All of them. They had followed Geralt, to try and save Ciri and Yennefer. They had followed Geralt to their death. All four of them gave their lives not knowing if their quest was a success. Technically it was a success, but Geralt didn't feel like celebrating.
Gone.
They had become like a family to him and now they were gone.
He didn't know what to do now.
Why them? He was the leader, how did he survive? It just didn't make sense. Why was he alive, when they weren't?
What was the next step?
How was he going to tell Jaskier?
Jaskier? He still had Jaskier! Thank fuck the bard did not follow them. When Jaskier first said that he was staying behind in Toussaint, Geralt had been jealous. At the time, he couldn't name the feeling, but he could now. Even though he had been jealous at the time, Geralt had also been relieved that his bard would be safe. It did make the assult on the castle somewhat easier for him, knowing that he didn't need to worry about Jaskier.
He hadn't lost all of them. He still had Jaskier. He and Jaskier could keep the memory of Milva, Cahir, Regis and Angoulême alive. Jaskier would make heroes out of them. They deserved that. They were heroes to Geralt.
Geralt would find Jaskier. He needed his bard.
With a new aim, Geralt headed to Toussaint.
XXX
A gentle breeze blew through the halls of Kaer Morhen. It carried the the pleasant voice of a bard. It was a testament to Jaskier's skills, that he was still able to play the lute, with how big his hands were. He missed a few notes here and there, but none of the Witchers had the heart to comment on it. The rumours saying that Witchers had no emotions, were just that, rumours.
The music was bittersweet. It was nice to hear music gracing these walls. The Keep used to be noisy. There used to be cadets running down the halls. There used to be dozens of Witchers chatting over dinner. Now the Keep was almost silent. Except from the music that rung out from the room holding a bard.
Coën closed his eyes and rested his head back on the wall behind him. The Griffin allowed the music to wash over him. It brought a feeling of content, in a way that he had not felt in such a long time.
So it felt like a slap in the face when the music suddenly stopped, followed by a sob. The breeze turned icy and the Witcher felt his heart stutter. He started to jog towards the crying. It quickly evolved into a sprint. He didn't knock before he entered Jaskier room, he doesn't think the bard would have heard him anyway. Coën didn't blame him.
Jaskier had grown even more, he was 3 times bigger than when he left Kaer Morhen. That was not the reason behind Jaskier's tears. Bark had encased Jaskier's hands, but that wasn't it. His fingertips were growing into branches before their very eyes. Small buds forming on then.
Shimmering blue eyes locked onto Coën. They were filled with defeat and fear. The Witcher knew what was happening, but he didn't want it confirmed. "I've run out of time." Jaskier croaked. Coën nodded, struggling to remain composed for the bard. "I'll get the others."
The Wolves were already making their way towards Jaskier when he bumped into them. They all headed back to the cursed man, expressions grim. Vesemir grabbed hold of the distorting hand and patiently lead Jaskier out of the Keep. Not a word was uttered, all that could be heard was footsteps and disconolate cries.
Progress was slow. Jaskier's movements becoming more stiff as they continued. At one point, the cursed man yelped and stumbled. Eskel caught him with a grunt and Lambert swore. Coën quickly moved to Jaskier's side to support him. Jaskier's legs had started to fuse together. Without a word passing between them, the Witchers arranged themselves to carry Jaskier. All the while the bard apologised, as tears continued to stream down his face.
The spot that Vesemir had prepared for Jaskier, was beautiful. A delightful fragrance filled the air. The array of pastel flowers, were calming. They were in a valley, yet it still received plenty of light and offered some protection from strong winds.
"You really did make a new Valley of Flowers. Lambert, you need to make me a bird house that looks like this tavern in Posada, for no specific reason." Jaskier's voice was raspy. Soon it would be gone. Soon the bard would become forever silent. Coën should have savored the singing from earlier, more.
"Fuck bard, I'll make you village of bird houses, all made too look like important places for you and Pretty Boy." The redhead choked on a laugh. Coën could see that the smile of Lambert's face was strained. He could see the bearly contained tremor of the young Wolf's frame. Coën let out a shaky breath.
"Nice try Lambert, but trees can't blush. Now if I was still human, I would look like your hair right about now." His voice was growing weaker. Vesemir lead them to the patch of soil circled by rue. Eskel moved to remove the cloth from the bottom of Jaskier's merging legs.
"I happen to know that you can get Lambert's face to blend in with his hair, if you talk about a certain someone." A fustrated expression formed on Lambert's face while the tips of his ears turned red. Any other time Coën would have teased the younger Witcher. Now, it didn't feel right. The two Wolves were trying to match Jaskier energy. Most likely hoping that it would give the cursed human comfort in his last moments. Coën, couldn't bring himself to match it. This human was so strong. Trying to joke when facing his end. It was expected for Witchers to be able to face death head on. They were trained to be that way. Jaskier wasn't.
The raspy laugh coming from Jaskier was so quiet. To the Griffin, it sounded like a roar.
They placed Jaskier in the circle of freshly laid soil. They held him in place as the cramped up roots, dove into the awaiting dirt. It was quick. Alarmingly so. Jaskier gasped. The Witcher's knew that they could step away. Knew that Jaskier was firmly planted in the ground and would not fall. It was a reflex that Coën was able to duck out the way of Jaskier's arms, suddenly reaching up to the sky.
With each panicked breath, more branches grew and leaves unfurled. With each panicked breath, Jaskier's face sunk into the trunk that was now his body. With each terrified breath, the wind grew stronger. It swirled around them, picking up petals and rustling Jaskier's leaves. It sounded off. It was as if the wind was singing and the petals dancing for Jaskier's last performance. Jaskier's breaths grew weaker, tears continued to fall. The Witchers held on, for they knew Jaskier could still feel them. He had confessed it earlier. Jaskier's panicked breathing slowed to a stop. Cornflower blue eyes closed and never opened again. The wind died down to a gentle breeze.
The Witchers held on, until valley was bathed in moonlight. The rumors that Witchers couldn't cry, well, one shouldn't believe in everything they hear.
XXX
Geralt was running. He didn't really know where he was heading, he just needed to run. He had arrived at Toussaint and managed to talk to Anna Henrietta. She had not reacted well, when the Witcher enquired about Jaskier. She had been furious. Initially, Geralt had been fustrated, thinking that Jaskier had let his dick get him in trouble again.
He wished that was the case. The Duchess was quick to correct him. She was furious to learn that Jaskier did not love her. Furious that he let her think that was the case, when it was clear that Jaskier loved Geralt. She was furious that Jaskier had gotten himself cursed and instead of trying to figure out a solution with her, he ran away.
Geralt didn't really remember leaving Toussaint. He definitely didn't remember how that conversation ended. All he was aware of, was that Jaskier loved him and he was cursed.
The hope that bloomed in his heart at the possibility that Jaskier reciprocated his feelings, it healed something in him. It battled with the dread of knowing Jaskier was cursed. He was also hurt that his bard didn't come to him for help. There were multiple reasons as to why Jaskier could possibly think that was the correct action to take. Most that Geralt could think of, made no sense, but he couldn't jump to conclusions. He had done that too many times before, especially with Jaskier. He couldn't do that again, it never ended well. Geralt would need to ask why and he would need to listen.
First he needed to find his bard. He needed a direction first. He was running, but where to? Where would Jaskier be? Who would know where he would be? They had friends still, didn't they? Yeah, the Dwarves. Jaskier might have gone to them. If not, they travel a lot. They hear things, they might have heard of Jaskier. The last that Geralt heard, they were in Rivia.
Geralt headed to Rivia. He prayed that that Jaskier was there, that they could figure out how to break his curse. He prayed that he would be able to confess.