The Witcher - Imagines and One Shots

The healer - Part 1 - Geralt x Jaskier x Reader

"Just don't throw up on me." Geralt told Jaskier, as the Witcher forced Roach to move ever quicker. The bard sat behind him, struggling to stay upright, as they raced along the ancient track.

The white wolf had no idea how or why his friend was like this, but he was. The bard losing all colour from his face. His skin becoming a very concerning shade of grey. The thin trickles of blood that were coming from his mouth and nose, telling Geralt that he better do something, and he better do it quickly. The large, pale haired man, just happy that an old friend wasn't that far away. An old friend that would know how to fix whatever was going on with the bard.

(Y/n). Some would call her a witch; but more still, including the Witcher himself, saw her as a healer. A woman that some would journey for days to see with their ailments. A woman that it was said could cure anything. Some even claiming that they had seen the dead come back to life after she had laid hands on a body. But whatever the truth, Geralt himself had seen her do some amazing things with little more than a few herbs and some care. And he just hoped that she would be able to do the same with Jaskier. The guttural, pained noises now coming from the man behind his, pushing the Witcher onwards. Hope that when he did get to (Y/n), it wouldn't be too late.

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(Y/n) slowly stirred the bubbling pot that sat on the glowing embers. Dropping a few expertly selected, small flower into the well-used vessel. This was the sixth brew that she had created that day, and given the lateness of the hour, it would have to be her last. The others having to wait for the morning.

It had been a busy day, even for her. The healer having to wonder if there was some sort of creature out there that could have been causing all the maladies that she had been seeing recently. The idea of malevolent creatures. Of ill willed monsters bringing to mind someone. Someone that she hadn't seen for some time. Some one that she had to admit, she would quite like to see again.

She had met Geralt quite a few years ago now. He had actually come to find her. To kill her. The white wolf having been informed by someone or another, that she was a witch. Practicing her dark magic from her humble little home that was nestled just on the edge of a large forest. Yet when he had found her, she had been treating some of the children from one of the local villages. The Witcher shocked, as the little ones and their parents had stood between the large man and the supposed witch. The adults chastising him. Scolding him for coming to harm the only one that helped their children. The healer doing her best to ease the situation, before she found herself having to treat a lot more than the young ones.

In the end, she had asked him to stay for a while. Told him that if after a few days he still thought that she was a witch, he could use his silver sword to dispatch her. An offer that had obviously taken the pale haired Witcher by surprise. Yet within the first hour he had spent with her. As she explained about her herbs and potions. Her poultices and concoctions, he had been able to do nothing but smile at her. A smile that she found herself drawn to.

Over the years, he would always come to see her when he had found himself close by. The Witcher telling her that he could never repay her when she had been able to heal Roach once. That he would be there if she ever needed his help. Yet it had been some time since he had made an appearance last. The healer wondering whether she would ever get to see the handsome man again.

Without warning, the door to her home was kicked in. The healer reaching for a poker, as she prepared to protect herself from the intruder. The heavy metal implement falling to the floor, as she saw who it was. His features barely picked up by the dying light of the fire, but it was him. There no mistaking the long white hair. Geralt almost filling the doorway, as he stood there with another man thrown over his shoulder.

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He could see the chimney smoke coming for (Y/n)'s little home now. The house nestled just in the trees. The stone walls illuminated by the moon that would occasionally poke its head out from behind the clouds. He had no idea whether Jaskier was still alive. The arms of the bard had gone limp. The Witcher no notion as to how he had remained in the saddle, given the speed at which Roach was running. But he was, and at any moment they would be at the house. Geralt hoping once again that he wasn't too late.

The wolf knew that later he would have to apologise to (Y/n) for not having been to see her for so long. It wasn't that he had meant to neglect her. He actually owed her for healing Roach. But his work had kept him away. Geralt praying that she hadn't had need of him in his absence. That no one else had come looking for her, thinking that she was a witch. But all that would have to wait, for once again he had need of her abilities.

Roach's hooves dug into the damp ground, as Geralt pulled her to a stop. The Witcher jumping from the saddle and dragging the limp form of Jaskier over his shoulder, before making his way over to the door. The big man using his foot to kick open the door. His eyes wide, as he saw her standing next to the fire, a poker in her hand. The healer dropping it when she had obviously realised who it was. One word leaving his mouth, as he made his way into the home.

"Help............................!"