And Howl Your Pain unto the Moon

Part 9 - Geralt

The rest of the winter went by fast, now that Jaskier had a plan in mind. He spent his days restlessly flitting around the keep, until Vesemir made him participate in the training, to 'make him work those new powers'. After a bit of complaining, he had to agree that the exercise made him feel much better, getting rid of a big portion of the restless energy. At the same time, he felt like he was truly working towards his goal to be more helpful.

When the snow melted enough to make the path passable again, the witchers packed their horses and went down the path one of them per day. Jaskier and Geralt slipped into the traveling together routine quickly, even though they departed a bit later than the witcher usually would, as they wanted to wait till the next full moon to make use of the room in the keep one last time.

Thus, when they arrived into Ard Carraigh that spring, flowers were already busy blooming, and the land was full of life, including monsters. Even though Eskel passed through not even two weeks ago, there was a fresh contract for drowners waiting for Geralt, and Jaskier sent him on his hunt with a wish of good luck and the knowledge of a warm bath waiting for his return. Jaskier felt a bit bereft without his lute to play, but still, he went down into the tavern to have an ale and listen to what talk had been going around since he turned.

He didn't hear anything important, but at least he got the room ready, and when Geralt returned, dirty but in one piece, Jaskier went to wash his hair in a moderately okay mood. It was pleasant not to have the witcher squirm and refuse his care. Another pleasant side effect of the curse. They touched much more than before and spent the nights next to each other. Geralt was also much more careful with his words, clearly still very much aware of the wound slowly healing in the bard's heart.

Had it not been for the threat of the next full moon, Jaskier would have enjoyed their travels even more than ever before. Alas, now their peace of mind was stuck on the tiny little problem called Yennefer.

Geralt sent her a raven with a message as soon as they arrived in the city, but so far there was no reply, even as they traveled south to one of the safe houses Geralt knew she preferred. Jaskier tried not to show how irritable the fact made him, pushing the unwarranted jealousy deeper. He should be glad their friendship was mending itself, not listen to his hopelessly pining heart. But alas... He guessed he and the witch would never truly see eye to eye when he had to chase after crumbs of Geralt's affection for years while she could have it all but still ran away from him every time.

They slept in one bed, tangled into each other like they got used to in the den back in the keep, and woke up well rested, smelling of the two of them and contentment. At least now Jaskier knew Geralt truly did enjoy his presence. When morning came, they followed the routine to breakfast and departed from the city swiftly, as even Jaskier had to admit it was a bit much for his newly enhanced senses. He suddenly understood why Geralt never wanted to stay long, and he hoped that this particular side effect he could get used to quickly. What good would be a bard that couldn't enjoy a nice busy festival?

He asked Geralt about it and the man assured him that his brothers didn't have problems staying in loud areas, it was just him who changed too much after the trials. Jaskier... Jaskier knew about them, Geralt uttering he got grassed twice once before when the bard got relentless with his teasing, but even as young and careless as he was back then, he could feel that asking more about it would be too much. Which was why he was so darn surprised when, as he stared into the campfire that evening, Geralt sitting on the log preparing their rabbits over the fire, the witcher coughed lowly, as if unlocking something in his throat and started speaking.

"It's... it's because of the second round of grasses, that I have white hair," he wasn't looking at Jaskier, brows furrowed, clearly thinking over every word, fighting with himself on the way. Jaskier didn't dare breathe too loudly.

"It's also why my voice is this growly, or how did you phrase it in that song, low and thunderous. It changed me much more than the others, including my senses, but not always in a better way. My hearing and smell especially. I can get... overwhelmed. It's hard to keep everything separate when I'm tired, and if it goes on for too long, I just like to get away from it," he turned the rabbits on the fire and Jaskier's heart squeezed painfully in his chest.

"Geralt..." he finally spoke when the witcher remained silent.

"Geralt... dear, is that why you never want to go to see my competitions?" he felt his eyes getting misty and his nose was itching from the inside. The witcher nodded.

"It's not that I don't want to see you win, it just... gets to be too much. Don't worry though, the others are okay with their senses, you should be too," the witcher mumbled but Jaskier was already getting up and resolutely walking over to hug him from behind to wherever he could reach. The armor dug a bit into his chest where he plastered himself to the witcher's back, but he didn't care, burrowing his face into the man's neck.

"I am sorry you had to go through that, Geralt," he said and to his surprise felt the witcher briefly squeeze one of the arms that were hugging him with his own gloved hand. They stayed like that until the dinner was done and Jaskier squeezed the witcher once more before going to eat.

That evening they laid down already snuggled into each other and just before they fell asleep, Jaskier felt his tongue getting loose and whispered: "I'm really glad you told me. For a while, I truly believed you didn't like my singing, you know?"

"I never truly disliked your singing, Jask," Geralt mumbled into his hair and then they dreamed.