Fanfics from Ao3 - Private

clinging to the moment - not1_2write

"Let's go to Kaer Morhen for the winter," Jaskier mocks breathlessly. "It won't be as exciting as last year. We'll rest and recuperate, you said. A moment of peace, you said."

Geralt, predictably, does not answer. Not even a "hmm" of annoyance. It's more worrying than anything given that the man is unconscious, slumped completely against Jaskier and covered in blood.

"We could have portaled in," Jaskier continues, hefting Geralt more firmly against him and taking a staggering step forward. "Yennefer and Ciri are portaling to Kaer Morhen in a few weeks time but no. Geralt, oh Geralt hates portals! So we're going to walk up the fucking mountain during a fucking snowstorm."

Grunting, Jaskier drags Geralt forward a few more feet. Knee high snow is starting to get into his boots- boots that are for once suitable for long treks and cold weather, for which he's grateful. They're not his usual style, no buckles or adornments to be found but they're sturdy and warmer than his old pair. Geralt had insisted he get them so Jaskier did, grumbling about the bland grey color all the while.

Despite the well made leather and the fur lining the inside Jaskier can feel his toes beginning to go numb. He marches forward as best he can, dragging his Witcher along with determination.

Geralt grunts, head lolling.

"We'll beat the snow," Jaskier parrots, panting a bit. "It's too early for a snowstorm, Jaskier. We'll be fine. Well what the bloody hell is this then!?" He would gesture dramatically at the snow falling in thick blankets around them if he had an arm free. But he has to keep one arm around Geralt's chest and the other firmly clamped on Geralt's limp arm draped over his shoulders otherwise he's going to drop the oaf. "This doesn't look like beating the snow!"

If he keeps shouting at the world maybe someone will hear him. Surely they're not the first ones to make the trek to Kaer Morhen. Geralt is usually one of the last to arrive and Witchers do have good hearing. Someone has to hear them.

Jaskier carries, hefts, drags Geralt another half mile before he finds the breath to start up again.

"Next year- next year we are portaling, do you hear me? I don't care if you puke yourself inside out. I don't care if I puke up my guts. It beats climbing up a mountain-" he stumbles over a root. Gods he hopes they can make it before the sun goes down. Wandering around in the dark, in the snow, trying to stick to a path he's only traversed once before is not a good idea. "-and stumbling into an entire nest of angry looking beasts that make the bloody horse run off. Gods above I miss Roach. Roach never ran off."

Jaskier has no idea what type of beasts they'd stumbled across- Geralt had been rather busy hacking them into bits and telling Jaskier to get on the horse and go. Which he would have been happy to do if the horse hadn't reared up, kicked one of the beasts in the head when it got too close and then promptly taken off, disappearing from sight before Jaskier could even attempt to grab her reins.

They had been scaly things, whatever the monsters were. Jaskier is inclined to think wyverns, though he had thought they were mostly contained to an island off the coast and intolerable of cold to these extremes. But after last year and the monolith who knows.

The important thing is that Geralt is unconscious and bleeding after fighting six of them off with no potions. So Jaskier is dragging him up the mountain, cursing him all the while.

Panting, trying to catch his breath and ignoring the numb sensation creeping into his fingers and toes, Jaskier adjusts his grip on the limp Witcher slung halfway over his shoulders. "Oh by the gods you are fucking heavy-!"

He's not leaving Geralt behind. It would probably be faster. He could scuttle up the mountain and get help but he's no idea what other manner of creepy crawlies are lurking in the woods- this path is called The Killer after all and Geralt had assured him it was very literal- and he's not about to leave an injured, unconscious Witcher to fend for himself with only one sword.