To Heal A Lonely Heart

Not All Tears Are Evil

For the second time today, we were interrupted by the bard. Standing in the doorway, he cleared his throat. Geralt and I shot apart and I gave Jaskier a sheepish smile, while my husband returned to his usual annoyed mask he put on whenever the bard was around. This may be Geralt's and my house, but as often as Jaskier stayed with us, he had fully accepted this room as his own. Only that, once the child was there and old enough to have a room of their own, this room would be theirs.

But right now, it was the bard's – or any guest's of that matter, but he was our only guest; the only person that we would allow to stay with us. And he was standing in the doorway, lute in hand, with the original plan to put the instrument in his room – to put it out of harm way in the main room (you'd never know what the witcher would do to it if it was just laying around) –, met with the sight of his hosts making out against the bedpost of his bed!

"What? This is still our home!" I laughed at him as he dared to move again, entering the room fully and setting the lute in the chair in the corner of the room.

"Yeah, but we agreed that this is my room," Jaskier protested.

Smiling, I rubbed my belly. "Not for long," I hummed.

Jaskier's eyes shot to my belly, causing Geralt to take in a defensive stance next to me – he couldn't help himself, even if he wanted to. Before the bard could say anything, the witcher jumped in.

"If the housing does not suit the Viscount," he started grumbling, "then perhaps he should find a room in the village then? Like we agreed on."

"Gods! Let him stay for a few days!" I exclaimed, lightly slapping his chest with the back of my hand. The action earned me a cocked eyebrow, which I didn't notice since my attention was still on our guest. I also didn't notice him nodding before he started to move, walking towards the door, waiting in the doorway for me to follow him.

With one last smile, I looked at the bard. "Good night, Jaskier."

"Good night, Nienna," he returned, then leaned a little to the side to see the witcher, "Night, Geralt."

"Hm," he nodded curtly before shifting his eyes to me, an expectant look in his eyes.

I rolled my own eyes at him as I joined him, pulling the door close in the process.

"Oh, no. Don't give me attitude," he muttered as he led the way upstairs.

"Then how about you treat him better? He's our friend after all."

"Your friend," Geralt corrected, lifting his index finger.

"You still care about him!" I argued.

"Maybe. But right now, I don't want him too close to you. He causes trouble wherever he goes. I don't want you in the middle of it. Not in your ... situation."

"Ugh. Gods! That again." I stopped on the stairs. "Geralt, just because I'm pregnant does not mean I'm weak."

He also stopped, a few steps above me, overtowering me even more than usual. Golden eyes peered down at me.

"That's not what I meant," he sighed, "I don't want you to be stressed. I know stress is bad for our child."

Damn my lacking control over my emotions! I teared up. The wooded steps creaked and within seconds, I was wrapped in a tight, comforting embrace. Strong arms lifted me off my feet and carried me up the rest of the stairs. Reaching the top, he didn't set me down. Only when his legs hit the edge of the bed, Geralt sat, with me in his lap, letting me cry into his chest.

He stroked my back gently.

"Don't cry, my love," he cooed soothingly and I lifted my head to smile at him.