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jaskierswolf · 4 years

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You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.2/25

Triss Merigold was bloody exhausted. The start of the school term was always the worst. She had barely had a break for the whole of the first two weeks. She flopped onto the sofa in the staffroom with a dramatic sigh. She loved the kids. She hated the parents. Already she’d been caught up on the phone with parents from the younger tutor forms just calling in to check up on their little darlings. No matter how many times she or the other teachers assured them that the school would notify them of any problems. The parents of the older kids were just as bad, blaming the teachers for their bad parenting skills and insisting that all their children should have been top of the class.

“It’s not that bad Triss.” Istredd Gynvael from the Feainnewedd tutor group hummed.

Istredd was the history teacher for the secondary school children and looked after one of the year ten forms. Overall he was well liked by most of the students, he wasn’t a strict teacher but Triss knew the students sometimes found his classes on the dull side. Not that Triss would ever tell him that. No, that little tidbit was between her and Yennefer alone, maybe Tissaia…

She’d never tell the Headmaster, Stregobor, at least.

“You don’t have to talk to the parents until parents’ evening, Is.” Triss moaned. “I have to deal with them all year round. They all think their angels can do no wrong.”

“We become teachers for the children. The parents are an unfortunate side effect.” Istredd sighed.

There was a murmur of agreement from across the staffroom.

“Sabrina’s mum called me a disgrace and failed artist last year.” Tissaia sighed as she turned a page in her book. “Apparently, they weren’t happy that I gave their daughter some constructive criticism on the use of lighting in her portraits. I’m not going to just throw compliments at every student. They’d never learn otherwise.”

Tissaia de Vries was the school’s art teacher. She was also the form teacher of Forget-Me-Nots, one of the year six classes. She’d been the person to encourage Yennefer’s career as an artist ever since she’d been a student at the school. It had been because of Tissaia that Yennefer had started teaching in the first place.

“Oh hang on!” Jaskier perked up from where he was scribbling in his notebook. “I happen to like the parents of my class.”

Triss rolled her eyes. Jaskier had dropped by her desk at reception at the end of the first day to ask for all the parents’ contact details so he could write his weekly emails. He’d been particularly interested in Ciri’s dad. Of course, Ciri was an interest to all the teachers at the school. She’d already been through hell and she was only six years old. The young girl didn’t seem all that bothered on the surface about her sudden change in circumstances. It was all a bit peculiar.

“That’s because you are a bit of a freak, Julian.” Mr Marx drawled from his corner of the staffroom.

Jaskier’s face turned to thunder and slammed his notebook shut.

Jaskier and Valdo Marx had known each other since before Jaskier started at the school. Their rivalry was legendary amongst the staff. No one was entirely sure of the details behind their feud. From what Triss could tell they had been at University together, both studying music at Oxenfurt. They had had some kind of falling out at some point. No one was really sure what about but last Solstice things had flared up when Valdo had had an affair with Jaskier’s partner. It was also Valdo that had told Stregobor and the rest of the staff that Jaskier’s birth name was Julian, something that her friend seemed to despise. Valdo refused to call Jaskier by his chosen name which never ceased to end in an argument between them.

This time was no different as Jaskier coiled up like a spring, ready to pounce on the other teacher.

“Call me that again one more time and I’m putting in a grievance. Wally.” Jaskier sneered. “Some of us actually care about the children we teach, and that means taking an interest in their home life and working out the best way to teach each child individually.”

“Name calling, Julian. How original.” Mr Marx smirked and patted Jaskier on the head as he moved to leave the room.

“Oh fuck you!” Jaskier called after him. “He’s just bitter because all the year twos wish they were Buttercups and not Foxgloves.” He muttered.

“He’s just bitter because he doesn’t get to talk to Mr Rivia at parents evening.” Triss sighed wistfully. “I would climb him like a tree.”

Jaskier’s scowled faded into a blissed out smile. “Oh he is dreamy isn’t he? Those eyes, like molten amber and that voice. Gods, it’s like sex personified.”

Triss giggled. “I knew it!”

Jaskier went wide eyed and slammed his hands over his mouth. “I said that out loud didn’t I?”

“Must you all be so dramatic?” Istredd called over Triss’s squeals of joy. “I’m trying to mark homework.”

“I think we’ve all earned a break, Istredd, if you want to mark in peace go back to your desk.” Tissaia hummed with eye roll.

Istredd sighed. “Just keep it down, maybe try and remain professional.”

“Oh come on, Is. You’ve not seen him. Geralt Rivia is hot!” Triss nudged her friend.

“Geralt? Yen’s ex?” Istredd put down his marking with a sudden scowl.

“No no no!” Jaskier whined. “Please tell me, I’m not competing with Yennefer Vengerberg!”

“Don’t worry Jaskier, that ship has long sailed. Isn’t that right, Is?” Triss winked at the history teacher. Istredd’s fingers gripped tighter around his pen and he muttered something under his breath before burying his nose back into the sheets of paper in front of him.

“Alright!” Jaskier called. “How many people here have had a crush on Yennefer Vengerberg? Hands up!”

“We’re not your kids, Jaskier.” Tissaia rolled her eyes at the younger teacher’s antics.

“True.” He admitted. “But humour me.”

Triss unashamedly put her hand up. Istredd was next. Chireadan was next and a handful of the other staff. Overall, just over half the staff in the room had their hands up.

Jaskier was not one of them.

“Not your type, Jask? I thought everyone was your type?” Triss teased.

Jaskier gasped and put his hand on his heart. “Triss! Just because I’m bisexual does not mean everyone is my type! She’s hot. I can admit that, but she fucking terrifies me.”

“And Geralt doesn’t?” Triss asked with a roll of her eyes, deciding not to point out that she was pansexual and already knew the myths of their sexualities were not true. “He could probably snap you like a twig.”

Jaskier beamed. “Oh I know!”

“Do we need to chaperone parents’ evening, Jaskier?” Tissaia asked cooly but her eyes were twinkling with amusement.

“I’ll have you know I am a professional!” He gasped in mock outrage. “But yes absolutely. I have no idea how I managed to talk to him on the first day. Gods, he looked at me and I wanted to melt. I could write ballads about those eyes.”

“Please don’t” Istredd sighed. “Geralt’s not that great.”

“Oh come on, Is, you just don’t like the fact he used to date Yennefer.”

“Yenna is better than him.” Istredd scowled.

“Oh ho ho!” Jaskier laughed. “Are you going to finally ask her out then?”

“Shut up, Julian.” Istredd hissed.

“Jaskier’s got a point, Is.” Triss gave Istredd a pointed look as Jaskier visibly bristled at the name. “But what about you and Geralt?”

Jaskier grumbled as he moved to retrieve his notebook. “Nothing. There’s nothing about me and Geralt. He’s a parent and I am a professional.”

Istredd sighed loudly and gathered up his belongings and left the room. Tissaia chuckled as she sipped her tea and continued to read her book, but seemed to be content with the gossip that was rife in the staffroom. Other teachers were beginning to file out as the lunch break was ending.

“But you fancy him.” Triss persisted as she checked the time on her phone. She didn’t need to be back at the front desk for another ten minutes and she didn’t have to worry about lesson planning like the other teachers. Her job did have some perks.

“So do you.” Jaskier shot back. “I am simply appreciating that Mr Rivia is a good-looking man but his daughter’s in my class and you know me, I fall in love with everyone I meet.”

“Except Yennefer.” Triss pointed out.

Jaskier paled at the memory. “I have met Yennefer once and I genuinely thought I was going to die a terrible and painful death.”

“Oh it wasn’t that bad.” Triss giggled.

_________

Yennefer didn’t come back to school very often when she was in town but occasionally she would pick Triss up if they were going to the pub after school finished. Sometimes Yennefer would glide through the halls of her old haunt to reminisce over her days as a teacher, popping in to say hello to her old colleagues. The first time she’d visited after Jaskier had started teaching she’d visited her old classroom, the classroom that Jaskier now occupied.

“What the fuck has happened to my door?” Yennefer glared at the bright yellow monstrosity that stood at the entrance to her old classroom. During Yennefer’s time at school the door had been painted lilac with elegant black silhouettes of flowers.

Jaskier had rather a different approach. His door was so bright you almost needed sunglasses to look at it and his class had drawn their own buttercups to cover the door. Their teaching style was completely different too.

Yennefer luckily had been in charge of an older class and mostly taught English Literature and Language to the Secondary school children. Yennefer was firm, and at times strict, she demanded respect from her students and many of them ended up in detention for missing out on homework or mucking about in class. Yennefer’s theory was that by messing about it was both a waste of her time and theirs. Yennefer was not a lover of wasted time. Every action she took was planned down to the letter. She knew what she wanted and how to get there. Her writing was very much the same.

The scripts she wrote for the school plays were intricate and beautiful. Every line, every stage direction, every detail in the costumes had some hidden meaning that would be revealed later on in the play. As a director she was fierce and many of the older students were scared shitless after their time in the theatre but many also went on to attend drama schools. Yennefer could have become an award winning author, actor or director but that wasn’t where her passion lay.

Yennefer Vengerberg loved art.

She always had ever since she’d studied at the school under Ms de Vries. She was a remarkably talented painter but her real skill was in her reviews and critiques of others art. Her analysis was unparalleled and her wit and sarcasm had drawn in a wide audience from all across the Art world.

As soon as she’d been able to earn enough money from her work at a critic she’d flown from the school, much to the delight of her poor students.

Jaskier on the other hand was a ray of sunshine. He was the sun to Yennefer’s moon. The kids adored him and almost everyone on the staff fancied him, not to mention the parents. His charm could have melted the heart of the ice queen herself and had to got him out of many a bad situation in the past, of course it had gotten him into just as many tight spots as well. Where Yennefer was unwaveringly focussed and unrelenting in her teaching, Jaskier was easily distracted and flitted from one topic to another like a whirlwind. He was kindhearted and nurturing to the children, playing his guitar almost every day and encouraging the kids to be the best they could be. He was entertaining and fun, and every child wanted to be in Buttercups.

The layout of the building had changed a lot since Yennefer’s time and this section of the school now housed the primary school classes which was why Jaskier’s class was now in the old English room.

Yennefer burst through the door, Triss trailing behind her. “Seriously! What the fuck?”

Jaskier jumped up from behind his desk, knocking his paper work all over the floor. “Bollocks! Shit! I mean… oh cock!” His travel mug tipped over as he scrambled after the the sheets of maths homework. Coffee poured everywhere, including down his teal floral shirt.

“Triss!” Yennefer snapped. “Why is there a child teaching in my classroom?”

Triss sighed and walked over to help Jaskier save his marking from the coffee that was now leaking onto the floor. “Yen, this is Jaskier Pankratz. Our new year two teacher.”

“What are you, twelve?” Yen asked raising her eyebrow at the young brunet.

“I’m twenty-six!” Jaskier pouted. “I just have good genes and quite frankly a fabulous skincare routine. Did you want a copy?”

“Are you saying I look old?” Yennefer smirked at Jaskier who visibly started to panic.

“Oh no. No no no. You look very radiant, ethereal! Eternally youthful. Please don’t kill me?” He fell backwards in a fluffy of maths homework.

“Oh dear god.” Yennefer covered her face with her hand. “I thought this place couldn’t get any worse. Come on Triss, there’s a couple of bottles of wine with our names on it. See you around, Buttercup.”

“See you on Monday, Jaskier!” Triss passed him a handful of sheets she had managed to salvage from the coffee.

“Holy mother of…” Jaskier breathed as he stared after the hurricane that was Yennefer Vengerberg.

_______________

Triss giggled at the memory. It had been just under three years ago, back when Yennefer and Geralt were still going through their off and on again stage. Jaskier had looked like a deer stuck in headlights in the fierce presence of Yennefer. Triss knew her friend could be quite intimidating but underneath it all was a loyal friend. A lot of her scary demeanour was just a mask to hide her insecurities. Yennefer wanted everything in life, a family, a career, fame, money, power. She wanted it all.

But she was so terrified that she would never be enough, never deserve the things that she desired. Her relationship with Geralt hadn’t help. They burned brighter than the sun on their good days but their fights could have risen the Gods from their slumber. They pulled and pushed at each others souls, tearing each other apart. Triss had never met Geralt before Ciri had started at the school but she’d been there for Yennefer every time he broke her heart.

“It absolutely was that bad.” Jaskier pouted. “I ruined my favourite shirt and made a complete fool of myself. She was looking at me with murder eyes!”

Triss patted his arm sympathetically. “If Yennefer wanted you dead, Jaskier, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Jaskier staggered back and stomped over to pick up his guitar case and satchel. “Wow. Thanks Triss. That is… so comforting.”

The bell chimed in the corridors, signalling the end of lunch.

“Bollocks!” Jaskier cursed and scampered out of the room. “This is all your fault Triss Merigold.”

Triss smirked after him. “You love it, Buttercup!”

_____________

Triss pulled her thick wooden green coat around her. It was surprisingly cold for the end of September and she’d forgotten to bring gloves. She was on home time duty this week which mostly involved waiting in the playground with the kids for the parents who had yet to learn how to read a damn clock. She stuffed her hands in her pockets in a poor attempt to keep them warm. At least her hair was long and thick enough to keep her ears warm. She daydreamed happily about a warm bath and a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream.

“Ms Merigold?” A small voice broke through her daydream and she felt hands tugging at her coat. She looked down at Ciri who was staring back at her with tears in her eyes. “Where’s Coën?”

Triss glanced down at her watch and bite her tongue to stop herself from swearing. Ciri’s babysitter was over thirty minutes late. It was unheard of. He was normally waiting at the gates as soon as the bells rang to signify the end of the day, but today Ciri was the last kid left.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Come on, let’s go inside and I’ll give Geralt a call.” Triss took the young girl’s hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. Ciri clung on to her tightly and sniffed, wiping her eyes with her free hand.

“What if he’s hurt?” Ciri asked quietly.

“I’m sure he’ll be alright.” Triss reassured her, wishing that she could believe her own words.

The pair of them hurried back inside and out of the cold. Triss let go of Ciri’s hand so she could search her desk for the file where she kept the emergency contact details.

“Mr Jaskier!!” Ciri cried and flew off down the corridor.

Triss looked up to see a very confused primary school teacher, guitar case slung haphazardly over his shoulder, struggling with an armful of small child. His leather satchel had dropped to the floor, books spilling out with a clatter.

“Ciri?” He stammered before he regained his composure and met Triss’s gaze with a worried look.

“Coën’s in trouble!” Ciri cried. “He’s going to leave me! Everyone always leaves me!”

“Oh Ciri.” Jaskier returned the girl’s clinging hug as she sobbed against his chest. “Ms Merigold is going to call your dad. We’ll figure this out together.”

Ciri sniffed loudly but nodded. “‘Kay.”

Triss found Geralt Rivia’s number with ease and dialled, praying that he would answer. She made a mental note to get Coën’s number too, he picked up Ciri most evenings during the week, depending on Geralt’s shift pattern, it was foolish that the young man hadn’t provided his contact details.

The phone rang three times before Geralt’s gruff voice answered.

“Geralt.” He grunted.

“Geralt, Hi. This is Ms Merigold, from Ciri’s school.” Triss started.

“Fuck. What’s happened?”

“Coën didn’t show at pick up today. Mr Pankratz is here with Ciri but she’s not taking it well.” Triss explained in a rush. She glanced over at Ciri and Jaskier. He’d sat down on the floor with her and seemed to be distracting her with a story. She still looked shaken but had calmed down and appeared to be completely captivated by the stories he was weaving.

“I’m on my way.”

Triss didn’t get a chance to reply as Geralt hung up the phone and the line went dead. She strolled over to Jaskier and Ciri, sitting down beside them. Jaskier glanced up at her without pausing his tale of knights and bards and princesses, and she nodded.

Ciri wasn’t an idiot though. She cut Jaskier off mid-sentence. “Is my dad coming to pick me up?”

“Yeah. We’ll wait here until he arrives yeah?” Triss suggested. “No point staying in the cold.”

“Is Mr Jaskier staying?” Ciri asked with wide eyes.

“As if I would leave you here!” Jaskier gasped and placed a hand over his heart, dramatic as always. “You are one of my Buttercups and we stick together!”

Jaskier pulled out his guitar whilst they waited for Geralt Rivia to arrive. Triss always enjoyed watching Jaskier play. She didn’t often get the chance. She knew he played for his class but her job kept her at her desk for the majority of the school day and they didn’t socialise that much outside of work. Occasionally, a handful of the teachers would head to the pub on a Friday evening but it wasn’t exactly the place to start playing acoustic guitar. Usually she’d only get to see him play quietly in the corner of the staffroom if he was working on a new song, or occasionally at a school event.

This was different though, it was intimate like a lullaby being sang in the dead of night. Triss was completely enchanted by her friend and was really starting to wonder how he wasn’t a famous musician. She’d expected him to play something uplifting to distract the young girl but Jaskier seemed to have other ideas. He played a song about heartbreak that was so full of yearning that even Triss could feel the telltale prick of tears in her eyes, and it seemed to do the trick. Ciri cried too but it wasn’t the chaotic full-bodied sobs from before. Tears rolled down her freckled cheeks quietly and Triss suddenly understood.

Jaskier was allowing the young girl to grieve.

He was telling her, through his music, that it was ok to be scared. It was ok to have these feelings and to cry. The teachers had all been concerned that Ciri didn’t seem to have processed the trauma of her young life very well and here was Jaskier, drawing out those emotions that the young girl had kept tucked away. Coën not turning up had triggered something in Ciri, some fear of abandonment that no one had realised had developed.

Triss smiled as she wiped a tear from her eyes. The young teacher had more depth than she’d realised. She’d underestimated him, perhaps they all had.

“Ciri!” Geralt came rushing through the doors, shattering the moment into a thousand shards of shimmering glass.

The girl in question squealed and flung her tiny body towards Geralt. Jaskier almost dropped his guitar in surprise and even Triss jumped a little at the sudden rush of movement.

“Dad!” Ciri cried as she wrapped her arms around her father.

“I’m here, Princess. I’m here.” Geralt reassured her in a low voice.

“Where’s Coën?” Ciri asked wide-eyed.

“Flu. He text me but it didn’t come through until I left work. I’m sorry.” Geralt explained as he kissed her hair. The silver-haired man then looked up to face Triss and Jaskier. “I am so sorry. What do I owe you?”

“Owe us?” Jaskier spluttered. “Geralt.”

Jaskier said the other man’s name like a prayer, fervently and full of adoration.

“You would have been home over an hour ago if it weren’t for me.” Geralt insisted.

Triss noticed with barely hidden glee that Geralt was focussed almost completely on Jaskier. Triss was certain that she could have slipped away and back to her car, and Geralt wouldn’t have noticed. So it seemed that Jaskier’s little crush wasn’t quite an unrequited as he thought.

“Geralt, it’s our job to ensure the children are safe. It was simply an unfortunate and completely unforeseen event. This is not your fault, nor is it Ciri’s or Coën’s. You owe us nothing.” Jaskier insisted.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed but continued to watch Jaskier intently as the younger man packed up his guitar. “Thank you.”

“That’s quite alright, Geralt. We’re happy to help, right Triss?” Jaskier blushed and looked towards her.

Triss smirked. “Delighted, Mr Rivia, but try not to let it happen again, or I’ll have to inform Yennefer.” Triss teased.

Geralt scowled but Ciri perked up at the name. “Auntie Yennefer?!” She squealed in delight.

“An old dear friend of mine, Ciri.” Triss nodded, throwing a smile at the young girl.

“Please don’t tell Yen.” Geralt groaned.

“Yeah, Ms Merigold. No need to get Yennefer involved.” Jaskier mumbled, glancing down at his feet and then back up at Geralt.

Geralt peered at the brunet. “I thought you only met her once.”

“A story for another time I think.” Jaskier blushed and sent her a warning glare.

Triss rolled her eyes. “Ask Yen next time you call her.”

“Dad.” Ciri tugged Geralt’s arm. “I’m hungry.”

Geralt growled. “Right. Time to go. Thank you for keeping her safe, Ms Merigold. Jaskier.”

“Anytime!” Jaskier replied brightly. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Ciri! See you, Geralt.”

“Have a good evening you two.” Triss waved them off.

Once they’d left the building, Jaskier sank to his knees and groaned.

“Alright there, Jaskier?” Triss teased with a laugh.

“Fuck me, he’s gorgeous.” Jaskier buried his face in his hands. “This year is going to destroy me.”

“Wouldn’t you rather Geralt destroy you?” Triss giggled as she pulled him to his feet and linked their arms.

“Triss Merigold!” Jaskier gasped. “No, no. You’re right. Oh good lord!”

“Ask him out.” Triss suggested.

Jaskier laughed weakly. “Not gonna happen. Stregobor would have me quartered.”

“Coward.”

“Absolutely! Come on, I think we deserve a drink! To the pub!” Jaskier announced loudly and together they finally left building for the evening.

______

#the witcher #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #triss merigold #geralt of rivia #jaskier pankratz #yennefer of vengerberg #geralt x jaskier #teacher!jaskier #fireman!geralt #you set my heart ablaze #wolfie's witcher writing

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randomfandomimagine · 4 years

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Soul of a Warrior. Chapter 11: Overflown

Fandom: The Witcher

Ship: Jaskier x Nissa (OC)

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Please reblog and leave a comment, it would make my day!

A/N: These are some of my favorite Jasnissa (Jaskier + Nissa, do you all like the ship name? :D) interactions in the series! I hope you enjoy reading!

Panic takes over my blissful serenity when I come to my senses. My head is pounding. I can’t remember what happened or when I went to sleep. I stir a bit, yet freeze when I meet with something warm and firm against me. I open my eyes and look over my shoulder. Jaskier peacefully sleeps behind me, with his arm dangled over my waist. My mind races, urgently trying to recover memories from yesterday. It is blank. Not being able to remember anything worries me. I think hard, shutting my eyes tight in concentration.

Geralt got hurt. We treated him. That sorceress, Yennefer, was here too. She and Geralt argued. He shouted at me when I tried to reassure him about how they actually loved each other despite it all. And then… I returned to Jaskier. We drank. A lot. That is all.

“J-Jaskier?” I utter, hoping in our drunkenness we didn’t do anything… intimate. At least we are still fully clothed, which contributes to calm me down.

He only hums quite happily and snuggles even closer to me. I blush. Fortunately, we didn’t seem to do anything. Not that I wouldn’t want to, but… Wait, do I want to? Well, perhaps, but not when I am not fully aware, when I can’t even remember it.

I sigh, resolved to enjoying his closeness. As quietly as possible, I shift to be facing him. Jaskier is smiling in his sleep, looking quite adorable. I smile myself and snuggle closer. His arms unconsciously tighten around me. My heart flutters. A new feeling takes over me, threatening to make me addicted to it. It is so unbelievably wonderful. I have to hold back the urge to lovingly push his hair out of his eyes. It tangles with his eyelashes.

Geralt’s words suddenly echo in my mind. Despite his harsh ways and high volume, he was right about one thing: it is stupid to conceal our feelings. Even if I am still not sure about Jaskier’s, I might as well try my luck by confessing to him. Easier said than done, though. I picture the scene, of professing my undying love for him. He would only flirt back and not take it seriously. If I insisted, he might laugh. Jaskier would think I was teasing and not believe me when I admitted that my feelings were true. Even if he did, could he reciprocate them? Would he reject me and ruin our wonderful dynamic?

Groaning in frustration, I hold on to his shirt. Stupid bard. This wouldn’t be so hard if he was more sincere. Is his flattering honest or just a façade? I have seen him flirt with other women, why would I be any different from all of them?

“Mm… Hey” A somnolent voice welcomes me, inviting me to look up into his eyes.

I chuckle as he watches me through one eye, rubbing the other to sober up. Just a glance at his angelic face and my vexation disappears, especially when he looks so sleepy and he still smiles at me. I can’t quite explain why, but it feels… magical. All of this.

“Did I wake you?” I gently tug at his shirt and he shakes his head.

“How are you feeling?” Jaskier asks, much to my surprise.

I gawk at him, but he only examines my expression. Did I miss something? Oh, gods… Did something actually happen last night? Did I somehow hurt myself? Did I say something that perhaps upset and worried him?

“Why would you ask?”

“Well” He makes a pause, laughing a little. “You were quite… giddy…”

“Oh, dear…” I cover my face with my hands in anticipation. “What happened?”

“You see, heartbroken by Geralt’s boorish manners, you came to me” The drowsiness slowly leaves his face as he smirks. “And I looked after you when you drank wine like it was water and you were stranded on a desert”

“You drank too” I complain, though his grin doesn’t leave off.

“Unlike you, my fair Nissa, I can hold my liquor” He taps my nose with one finger and I scrunch it. “I didn’t drink that much in any case”

“Ugh…” Just imagining the events that could have taken place, I cringe in embarrassment.

“I brought you here to the room and made sure you were alright. You know, like a gentleman” His deeds lose significance the more he gloats about them. “You felt a bit sick, so I put you to bed”

I observe him in search of signs that prove he is making it up. He only tilts his head innocently.

“If you are lying to me…”

“I would never!”

Before I can make up my mind about the veracity of his tale, the door roughly swings open. I groan and shrink closer to Jaskier when a headache throbs in my temples as a result of the loud noises. He protectively holds me closer.

“You’re awake” I didn’t quite appreciate the low volume of Jaskier’s tender voice until Geralt came along being loud and crude. “We’re leaving”

“We’re not talking to you” Jaskier proudly says, not even looking his direction.

I have a full view of the witcher from my spot. He stares at the bard’s back without a word. One of his grunts echoes around the silent room. Tempting Jaskier, Geralt doesn’t move a muscle. As expected, the curiosity gets the better of him and the bard looks at his friend over the shoulder.

“Where are we going, exactly?”

“I thought you weren’t talking to me”

“And bless you with absolute silence?” I sarcastically tell him, sitting up on the bed. “Not a chance, witcher”

“Hm…” Geralt only says, refusing to make eye contact with me. Still, he does not apologize. And I doubt he ever will.

“Uh… well?” Jaskier sits up too, awkwardly glancing between the both of us. “Where are we off to?”

“The outskirts”

“That sounds fun”

“Yen is taking us there”

So they have worked things out after all. How ironic that his outburst was for naught.

“What?!” The bard jumps to his feet, a hand falling over his hip. “Absolutely not!”

My head pounds, although that is not the only reason why I grumble. I find myself bearing certain hostility towards Yennefer myself. Even if she hasn’t personally attacked me as Jaskier claimed she has him, it is her mere presence in the group that disrupts our entire dynamic. With Geralt especially, who loses his mind whenever she is around.

“Why on earth is she taking us there?” I stand myself, stopping beside Jaskier.

“She wants to go to a nearby intersection” Geralt briefly explains. “It will probably be swarming with monsters”

Jaskier blinks repeatedly, surely holding back a snarky remark on the matter. Instead he grins sarcastically.

“I see” He says as he nods vehemently. “So you, ever her loyal protector, insisted on accompanying her. How did that work out for you, Geralt?”

He must have been painfully accurate, because the witcher only groans.

“We must go, Nissa” Jaskier takes me by the arm and goes ahead of him. “To make sure she doesn’t spill venom all over and poison him”

I look back just in time to see Geralt rubbing his temples and arming himself with patience.

A small river runs alongside us, and its music accompanies us as we walk. Sporadic sprouts of green vegetation cover the brown soil. The ground is soft under our boots. It feels as though we could dig to reach the power hidden beneath, yet that won’t be necessary in the presence of a mage. Yennefer now leads the way, and although an outsider would think she was wandering, the sorceress seems to know what she is doing. The horses are restless when we stop and search, which alludes to the presumed large amount of power contained in here. A few cats calmly sit around as well, seemingly attracted by the very same thing.

“Uh… forgive my ignorance” Jaskier pipes up. “But… what is an intersection, exactly?”

I remain silent, because even if I have a vague notion about what they are, I wouldn’t be able to put it into words. Especially not with how sluggish I feel at the moment. Geralt steps right in, however, expertly teaching us more on the matter.

“They’re places from which mages can draw power” He responds, although his eyes never once leave Yennefer. The latter stops walking and stares at her hands, and she grins widely.

“It’s here” She confirms, facing her palms to the ground.

Geralt pulls out his sword, vigilant to our surroundings, and nods in her direction. He has her back. The sorceress then closes her eyes. She doesn’t move from the spot, but she looks focused. Jaskier sighs in boredom next to me, leaning an elbow on my shoulder. It is indeed uneventful, not the adventure I expected. Had I known we would be watching Yennefer just standing there, I would have stayed in the inn and sulked, perhaps prepare a witty speech to scold Geralt... or just continue to enjoy that closeness with Jaskier.

“So…” He mutters in my direction. “How’s your hangover?”

I bite my lip in self-restraint, only further irritated by his smirk.

“Quit your smugness, bard”

“What smugness? It was a genuine question”

“Well, I am going to genuinely wipe that smirk off your face”

"I care about you, Nissa, I was only... Wait, what was that sound?”

“Don’t change the subject now”

“No, really… I heard something…”

I open my mouth to complain, too tired to put up with it. And then I hear it too, some sort of growling sound. Geralt calls attention to it soon after.

“Archespores!” He warns us before lunging towards a disgusting looking plant that emerges from the ground with a hissing sound. It is nearly camouflaged amongst the vegetation. “Be careful, they are poisonous!”

“Jaskier!” I hurriedly push him off me. “Protect the horses!”

While he stumbles back to go do what I asked him to, I study my surroundings. Geralt is easily fighting off those creatures as he expertly swings his blade, protecting Yennefer while she takes the power from the intersection. I take my sword, which I have been carrying lately since training with Geralt. Unlike the witcher, who fends up the poisonous spikes that the archespores throw, I can only try to fight them off as best I can. I swing my sword in a pathetic attempt to deflect them, though it isn’t quite as effective as when Geralt does it. I grit my teeth and take a step back.

“Nissa, look out!” Jaskier’s voice sounds extremely close to me.

Everything seems to happen slowly. Thanks to his warning, I manage to see one of the creatures approach me. An arcespore has suddenly protruded from the ground to my right, and so I cut through it precisely in time to avoid myself getting hurt. I cut off its stem and kick it to push it away from me. It drags across the ground like a disgusting reptile. I exhale in relief. However, Jaskier had thrown himself forward in an attempt to warn me.

The archespore that I cut off is headed is way now. When he yelps, Geralt calls his name. The witcher’s hand is stretched out in his direction, flexing his fingers in a very specific way. I know what will happen before it occurs. I am not quick enough to stop it. Indeed, Geralt’s sign violently sends Jaskier flying back and slamming his back on the ground. While his landing is rough and he gasps when his body meets the hard surface, I can tell Geralt was only trying to get him out of harm’s way.

As soon as the path is free, the witcher casts fire upon the creature. The archespore shrieks, though it doesn’t die. It is adamant on hurting us, returning to its target. My hearts is pounding in my chest, though skips a beat when Jaskier screams in pain.

“Jaskier!” I quickly glance at him to see he is still on the ground, groaning and clutching his side. If he doesn’t move, he’ll get hurt. “Hold on!”

While Geralt prepares to cast the sign again, I stand between Jaskier and the archespore. My hands are trembling and hinder the simple task of wielding my sword. Fortunately, Geralt rids us of the creature with the summoning of his fire sign. Another one has erupted from the ground close to Jaskier’s head, and so I don’t hesitate to cut off its stem and kick it as far away as possible. Then I glance at him as the bard writhes in pain.

“Hang on, Jaskier!” I insist, even though when I look again, the chaos has died down. The archespores have all being taken care of. Geralt stands in the middle of it all, silver sword dripping with archespore juice. Yennefer triumphantly sighs next to him, breathing heavily after canalizing the power this place offered her.

“Everyone okay?” The witcher’s eyes sweep around.

“No!” Jaskier exclaims, holding his hand up as a cry for help. “I might be dying”

“Jas…” I worriedly call him, rushing to kneel by his side. “What happened?”

“Geralt threw me across with his witchering” He whines, wincing and clutching his side.

“Uh… yeah…” The witcher mutters, approaching us. “I was trying to get you away from the archespore”

“Are you bleeding?” I ask Jaskier, looking him up and down for signs of injury.

“No, but…” He sharply breathes in, groaning in pain. “I-I think I broke something”

I have a haunting suspicion that it’s his ribs. While I carefully move his hands away, I feel Geralt and Yennefer hovering over me, watching the bard. I push his doublet to the side to have better access to his injury. Jaskier yelps in pain when my fingers gingerly press there where he was clutching. I bow my head, confirming my early diagnosis. At least this is something quite simple and my many hours dedicated to studying have been useful on the matter.

“You broke some ribs” I carefully palpate, feeling the bone under his shirt.

“Ugh, brilliant...” He fidgets in the spot, still not daring to sit up further.

“You’ll survive” Yennefer tiredly tells him behind me.

I sneak my hands under his shirt to properly feel the fracture. He immediately shrinks away from my touch.

“Ah, your hands are cold!” Before I can ask him to suck it up, he sighs and presses my hands against his side. “It's quite nice, actually”

“We should get you some ice” I still check his ribs, counting two broken bones. It is a relief that they are the lower ribs, since the higher ones are closer to the lungs and the heart and could have complicated things by breaking, being so close to the organs.

“Let’s go back” Geralt offers Jaskier a hand, which he immediately takes. Quite easily, he is pulled to his feet.

I stand up myself, watching him carefully. Jaskier still holds a hand to his side. Broken ribs are indeed extremely painful as well as a slow healing process. He drags his feet across the ground, carrying himself differently as he tries to favor his injury. His hand never leaves that spot, putting pressure while he breathes carefully.

As we walk away from that blasted place, Yennefer has started speaking and commenting about the newfound power surging through her veins. Jaskier talks over her, seemingly too focused on his pain to pay attention to her. Or perhaps he does it to antagonize her.

“Ugh… Geralt, you beast” He mutters, still groaning. “You broke my ribs”

“Better having broken ribs than being dead” The witcher dryly replies. However, when I glance at him he is frowning a bit. “Nissa will patch you up when we’re back”

That comment gathers Jaskier’s attention on me. Intending to help him, I quietly move to his good side and close the distance between us. He watches me in curiosity as I wrap an arm around him. This way, I securely hold him up by with one hand on his back and other on his chest. Jaskier smiles a bit and accepts my aid by resting an arm over my shoulders and leaning his weight over me. He sighs in relief with my support.

“You’re awfully quiet” He points out, which I hadn’t realized myself. I am just not feeling very talkative at the moment.

It isn’t the first time I see him getting hurt, and yet… a sudden restlessness has nestled within me. When I saw him falling and heard him scream, something stirred in my heart. Despite knowing he wasn’t badly injured, my mind began racing. He occupied all my thoughts, and it pained me deeply to know he was hurt in any way, no matter how mild.

“Uh…” I trail off while I buy myself some time to think. “I have a headache”

Jaskier grins when he is reminded of my hangover, and hence, of what happened last night. Honestly, I don’t feel the same amusement right now. I hope he isn’t aware of how distressed I am at the moment. I tremble slightly, and my lungs work relentlessly to get some air I can breathe with. All because of that thought that consumes me, that something far worse than a few broken ribs could have been his fate and can be at any given moment during our journey. That thought deeply upsets me.

Jaskier’s added weight proves exhausting as we finally reach the inn once more. The tension makes home in my muscles, and my entire being begs for me to rest. Sleep for a long time. These days have been daunting to say the least.

I am about to enter the establishment when I realize Geralt and Yennefer have stopped. They are a few steps of distance from Jaskier and me, calmly speaking. Really close. Too close. They then kiss, and my stomach churns at the sight. A non-physical ache overpowers any other discomfort in my body. It is a yearning too deep to fathom. Jaskier is extremely close to me, though it breaks my heart to think that I might never have with him what they have. Refusing to idly watch Yennefer and Geralt kissing, I turn to him.

“W… What’s wrong?” He immediately asks, noticing something is off. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because I wish you learned my feelings. And I feel stupidly happy whenever you are around me. I swoon at the thought of kissing you. I tingle all over at the memory of our fake kiss. I sigh when I lock eyes with you and immerse myself in the unforgiving beauty of the ocean in your eyes. Your smile makes my heart sing loud enough for me to compose the best of ballads despite knowing nothing about music. Because I would die for you. And in spite of it all, I am too frightened to tell you any of this.

I shake my head and tiredly put my arms around his neck instead. Very gingerly, I hold him close and nuzzle his chest. There’s that gentle warmth I crave.

“You scared me…” I say instead, concealing all these thoughts swarming in my mind.

“Sorry…” Jaskier whispers, tenderly wrapping an arm around me as well. “I’m alright, Nissa”

Were it not by his broken ribs, I would squeeze him tight against me, as tight as I could. So tight I’d bruise him. That may quell this need I have, this longing to have him impossibly close. At least that would make me content if I can’t have him.

“You are” I only mutter, scolding myself for being a coward. For yielding to this weakness.

I cannot conceive the idea of telling him. Even after all these emotions resurged, it is impossible for me to muster enough courage to pour them all out. The result is far too unnerving and intimidating, and a possible rejection is enough to break my heart just with the thought of it. Instead, I content myself with holding him. Feel him close against me. A bit hurt, but alive and well. Warm and gentle as always. Yes, that may be enough for now. How could I confess at this moment, in any case? We are all tired and a bit grumpy. It isn’t the right time.

His hand finds the dip in my waist, that spot it has rested on so many times and that seems the perfect place for him to hold on to. He gently pushes me off him. He stares. Despite how pleasant and hypnotizing they are, I cannot seem to be able to look into his eyes.

“Hey” Jaskier whispers, reluctantly making me gaze into them. “Did I scare you so badly?”

“Well…”

“Are you still worried then?”

“No…” I manage a feeble smile. “No, I’m only tired”

“Me too” He heavily sighs, although the movement pains him and causes him to wince.

“You should get some rest, Jas” I am about to hold on to him again and take him inside, though I glance at the pair.

Geralt and Yennefer are still standing too closely, and I don’t need to be a seer to understand their intimate thoughts. I would assume she wishes to leave soon, but not without spending some time alone with the witcher first. My heart bleeds in envy of what they have when their foreheads touch.

“Go on” I kindly pat Jaskier’s back. “I will be right there”

The bard nods and slowly makes his way into the inn. I on turn move towards them. Noticing this, Geralt walks my direction as well, gesturing for Yennefer to wait for him. A bit distant from us, the sorceress stares at me. Her violet eyes hold my gaze when I reciprocate, though they then follow Jaskier quite eloquently. Am I truly that transparent?

The witcher watches me expectantly, and so I say what I came to. No more.

“Uh… Jaskier and I are going in… to get some rest and treat to his injury”

“Good”

“Good…”

“What is it then?”

“I don’t understand…”

“You’re upset”

“What are you talking about?”

“Jaskier will recover”

“I… I know”

“And still lost your smile”

He doesn’t alter his expression, only watching me closely. Self-conscious about it, I let out a forced chuckle. He’s trying. He is stubborn and exasperating, but he is trying.

“I thought you didn’t care, witcher”

“Hm”

The silence is painfully heavy. We refuse to make eye contact. I rummage my brain to think of something to say, but my mind is completely blank. Anyhow, I don’t have the energy to even attempt to regain our prior dynamic. I am absolutely exhausted.

“Well, uh… Enjoy yourselves” I blurt out, rubbing my nape.

“You too” Even though the conversation is clearly over, we linger in the spot.

That dreaded silence returns. I internally cringe at the awkward moment. His golden eyes watch me. I take a hesitant step back. Geralt turns his body away from me as well. We say nothing else. I grimace at how terrible that interaction was and go to reunite with Jaskier.

When I enter the room, I find Jaskier sitting in the bed. He has taken his doublet off to be left in his white undershirt. As much as it vexes me, he looks very attractive in it. His notepad lies on his lap, and he furiously scribbles down on it. A pronounced frown is etched in his brow.

“What did that poor paper ever do to you?” My voice gathers is attention in me now.

“Ugh, Nissa…” Jaskier sighs. “It took me ages to get my doublet off!”

My lips part and I am about to mindlessly reply. Had he waited, I could have helped him take his clothes off. I remain silent and gather my efforts in not blushing when the thought flusters me. This is getting ridiculous.

Jaskier does not notice any of my inner struggles, far too preoccupied with his injury.

“I can’t do anything, it hurts all over!” He continues to complain, throwing an arm up in the air. “I can’t play my lute, I can’t walk, I can’t even sing!”

“Then lie down” I take the notepad from him and set it over the table.

“Bollocks” He barks even as he obeys and lies on his back. His hand keeps pressing against his side as though it is stuck there. “Every breath is agony”

“Try to relax” I say as I put a blanket over him, not wanting him to on top of all get cold.

“Will you be looking after me, Nissa?” There is a bit of vulnerability in his voice that makes me feel even more protective of him, if possible.

“Of course, my duties as the group medic bound me” I accommodate the blanket over his chest, and he smirks at me as though he is enjoying my cares far too much.

“Don’t lie, love, you do it because you adore me”

“Or because otherwise you would only whine all day”

"I would not..." While he talks, I take a step away from the bed, but he is already alert. “Wait, w-where are you going?”

“I should get you some ice for the swelling of the ribs and-“ Before I can move further, his hand has tenderly wrapped around mine.

“No, just stay here with me” When I stare at him astonishment, he gives me those blasted puppy eyes that I can’t resist. “Please?”

I heave a dramatic sigh and sit in the bed with him, careful to choose his good side. Jaskier grins in celebration and I shake my head at him. It sets my teeth on edge how much I adore him.

“You think you only have to give me those eyes and cutely say ‘please’ and I will do anything”

“I absolutely do”

“Stupid bard”

Perhaps at any other moment, I would have been able to wittily retort back. Yet right this second I can’t think clearly. Many hypotheses circle my brain as to why that can be: my dispute with Geralt, my hangover, the remnants of adrenaline still pursing through my veins… though none of that is true, I am only deceiving myself and I know it. It’s Jaskier. It’s always him, flustering me with his presence alone, with his dashing smile and kind eyes. Gods, when did I become a hopeless romantic that believes in true love? Pathetic.

“You can lie down with me” He teases me, poking my side and making me jolt up when it tickles. “My ribs may be broken, but I’m not made of glass”

“You might still break, Jas” I acquire a confident façade to hide the turmoil nestled deep within me. “You are such a delicate flower”

Jaskier completely freezes for a moment. His expression showcases a myriad of emotions as it changes from confusion to outrage to moderate amusement.

“Wh…” He only utters. His mouth falls agape. “You… Nissa, I…”

A genuine grin takes over my mouth, though it quickly vanishes when he harshly pulls at my arm. I squeak and fall over him, lying down as he wanted me to. Fortunately, I leaned on his chest and not on his ribs. Even so, he grimaces a bit as it probably hurt in any case. Nonetheless, he doesn’t complain. He only stares at me with great concentration.

Rolling my eyes in resignation, I get comfortable next to him. The bed is still too small for two people and we are forced to press our bodies together. I take notice of the mere inches that separate our faces, our noses and our foreheads. Our lips. Considering leaning back, I open my mouth to utter an excuse. However, Jaskier fidgets and clears his throat himself.

“Will you speak to me, Nissa?” I watch him in confusion, so he elaborates. “The sound of your voice is soothing”

The intensity of his gaze takes my breath away. I part my lips once more, trying to say something, perhaps trying to say it all. He said something so sweet that I want to reciprocate. The moment is tender and intimate, and he hasn't said a joke in a bit. Perhaps the outcome may be more favorable than I first imagined. This is my chance. If I could speak my mind…

My cheeks burn in anticipation. My breath hitches in my throat.

“Actually, I…” I start, mentally cursing my rapid heartbeat. “I need to tell you something”

“Oh, please, not now, love! We’re both exhausted” When his fingers reach out to fix my hair, I feel as though my heart will jump out of my chest. “It surely can wait”

“But you said…” I clumsily mutter, feeling myself blushing still. Can he not see it?

“I meant something trivial” He sighs, and I can nearly read the exhaustion in his features.

“A-Alright” Perhaps it’s for the best. I wouldn’t know how to say it in any case.

We have plenty of time, I can tell him some other moment. And yet, this sudden weight in my chest, this craving, won’t leave anymore. I am suddenly certain that I won't find peace until I express these feelings that have been eating me alive before I even realized them. I had loved Jaskier for longer than I'd care to admit, long before he kissed me. Although I had loved plenty of times before, it was never in such a way, as now my emotions and thoughts are flimsy and changing. All because of him.

“Good” He murmurs, never looking away from my eyes.

“I… don’t know what to talk about” His staring rattles me, although I can’t look away either. His eyes are so pleasant to look at, so beautiful and comforting.

“Sing to me then” He closes his eyes and snuggles closer to me. Does he even realize the way he makes my heart race? How the sight of his comfortable smile makes me sigh?

Glad to spoil him, I accede to his petition. However, the only songs that I can think of are his, and I refuse to give him the satisfaction of singing one of his ballads back to him. He would never let me forget it.

“Nothing comes to mind” I stutter, noticing how close we are still. “What am I to sing?”

“Anything” His hand once more returns to my waist as he easily lets his arm fall over me.

A melody suddenly reaches my mind and I start singing. It is a slow song, one talking about feelings and romance. Quite fitting given the situation. Jaskier’s grin grows as he lowly sings along with me. Of course he knows the song. I shiver at how beautiful the sound of our voices together is. The wonderful music of our souls dancing together. It perfectly fills the quietness and nearly lulls me to sleep. I sink down into him. I smile from how perfect it is to be by his side, and give in to exhaustion as our harmonies die down.

An unknown sound pulls me out of my peaceful slumber. I am still tired when I open my eyes, yet it all melts away at the sight of a sleeping Jaskier. We haven’t moved from our position, facing each other. I am slightly worried, however, when I notice he seems a bit pale and sick. My hand gingerly brushes against his cheek. When my palm presses against it, I breathe out in relief that he doesn't have a fever. Instead of retracting my hand, however, I find the touch to be far too enjoyable. I stroke his skin and reach out to push his hair to the side. It’s always in his eyes.

“Nissa…” He smiles. A tingling sensation spreads up my back. I freeze, fearing that he caught me, yet Jaskier stills. After several more seconds of silence, I confirm that he is still asleep. My lips automatically curve up in a smile. Butterflies flies in my stomach. I tenderly stroke his cheek again.

I turn on my back, hurriedly taking my hand off his face, when the door swings open. In walks Geralt, eyebrows raised at the state he finds us in. Jaskier’s head then softly falls on my shoulder. I happily chuckle, and the witcher lets out an amused hum as well. I smile at him.

“I was hoping we could do some more training” He says, loud enough for me to hear but low enough not to wake him. “Guess this isn’t the best moment”

I flush knowing he is perfectly aware of how comfortable and delighted I currently am. Nonetheless, it does not bother me. I am willing to put up with his teasing, it can’t ruin my happiness.

“Later perhaps?” I only say, unable to contain a big smile.

“Hm” His eyes move from him to me. “I’ll be outside”

Jaskier tightens his arm, previously loosely falling over me, to pull himself incredibly close to me. I am conflicted between yelping and laughing. Geralt does chuckle himself before leaving us. I ultimately giggle a bit myself, wondering if it’s normal to be overwhelmed with bliss in such a manner. I feel giddy and silly for it. He is only resting over me, yet I have never felt safer and happier. Perhaps I am more fatigued that I had anticipated, these days have certainly been challenging... or perhaps I am too comfortable with Jaskier. Whatever the reason, I fall asleep again before I can do anything about it.

For several days, we have been taking it easy, barely leaving the inn and ensuring our dear bard gets plenty of rest. While he does, Geralt has insisted on training with me, yet ensuring I don’t overwork myself either. I was recently gravely injured after all.

It is taking me a bit to grow used to the weight and feeling of the bigger weapon, but Kader’s sword proves more useful than my small dagger. It is also a bit difficult to focus on the witcher’s lessons ever since Jaskier has gone outside with us and curiously watches. At least he is feelings better. Yet his mere presence proves distracting, even if he remains mostly quiet. Mostly.

Now, as I watch Geralt demonstrate how he swings his sword, I feel slightly more confident when wielding mine. I idly watch the small cloud of dust his boots create when his feet drags across the ground. My hand falls on my hip, and I nod for the tenth time when he asks if I am paying attention.

“You taught me all of this already, Geralt” I tiredly tell him, rolling my eyes at him.

“You need to master this first before you learn anything else” Is his monotonous response.

Perhaps he is right, but it is agonizing to endlessly repeat the same movement over and over. It might be the very reasoning behind his insistence, but my arms and legs have already memorized the motion, and tey are sore from how often they have moved in such a manner: one foot behind and the other alert at the front, both arms up, strongly wielding the sword in a defensive horizontal position. I am so eager to learn something new already.

“I am fed up with this” The thought that he might believe I am not prepared to move on bothers me. “I can defend myself!”

It is him who insists on teaching me, I'm not quite sure why. It may be his strange attempt to apologize for being so stubborn. In any case, I know enough after he showed me the basics.

“You’re defenseless if you don’t have your weapons” Striding over to me, he takes the sword from my hand and carelessly throws it to the ground.

“That’s not true” I reply in outrage. “I can still punch an asshole”

Jaskier laughs a little at something about how I said it. The witcher sighs, however.

“Show me then” He lifts his hands up in the air, squaring up to prepare. I resign myself.

I tighten my hand into a fist and thrust it against his palm as hard as I can. Geralt watches me, unimpressed, as I try again. I look at him helplessly, wondering what I did wrong. With a sigh, he positions himself behind me and fixes my stance. His arms reach me from behind and I rest against his broad chest. How had I not realized how muscular he truly is? I am embarrassed, as we had never been this close. It doesn’t seem to fluster Geralt, however, not even when he twists my hip to demonstrate how I must turn.

"Use your whole body to give power to your blow" He calmly instructs. "It will be more effective"

“Um…” Jaskier intervenes, now standing beside us. “Can I help?”

“You can barely keep yourself alive, Jaskier” Geralt carelessly waves him off. I giggle.

“Well, I never!” He tugs at my arm until I am dragged away from the witcher. “I can be useful in a fight! Just teach me”

“You can be my punching bag” I joke, gingerly pushing my fist against his shoulder.

“Not like that” Geralt falls into place behind me again and lays his arm over mine to get ahold of my wrist, correcting my form. “Or you’ll hurt yourself instead of them”

Jaskier purses his lips tightly, glaring at the witcher behind me. I pay no attention to his unexpected sulkiness and punch his shoulder again, this time in the way Geralt advised.

“Ow!” The bard complains, stepping back and clutching the spot. “Mother of-“

I giggle against my hand, and that remedies whatever has gotten into Jaskier. He chuckles a bit, although still rubbing his sore shoulder.

“There, now I know how to punch an asshole” I conclude, changing sides to stand by Jaskier. He complains at the insinuations of my sentence, but I cutely bat my eyelashes at him. “Do you think we could take a walk now, Jas? I truly need a break”

“You little devil” He replies, albeit with a fond grin. “Of course we can”

Knowing I have bribed Jaskier against him, Geralt hums and begrudgingly goes to sheath our weapons. I can barely contain my eagerness and happily clap in anticipation. These days have been so repetitive and dull… it was beginning to break my spirits.

Jaskier laughs as he circles my waist with his arm, shoving me against him.

“That’s cute, love, but save it for Geralt. You don’t have to convince me”

“I am not putting on an act” Falsely offended, I rest a hand on my chest. “Can’t I be genuinely excited to take a stroll with my two favorite men?”

“Two?” Jaskier tuts his tongue as he shakes his head. “You have to choose one”

“I couldn’t possibly do that” I smirk, gently pushing his arm off me. “Unless you gave me some solid reasons to sway my decision”

He lifts his eyebrows. When he opens his mouth, he is forced to save that thought.

“Hey” Geralt scolds us. When we cautiously glance at him, he only nods his head to the right. Following him obediently, Jaskier and I move to one side of him each. Even if we still lock gazes and giggle like children.

I would have never thought Geralt would be the one annoying me to death. Jaskier is behaving, lowly singing as he mindlessly walks by our side. His voice is as sweet and melodic as ever. He also seems quite into the song as he is finally making some progress. On the other hand, here’s Geralt asking me question after question to ensure I remember everything he taught me about how to fight. I have never heard him talk so much, and I suspect he might be doing it only to wind me up.

“No offence, Geralt” I cut him off, finally fed up with his patronizing tone, as much as he is only trying to ensure I don’t ever get hurt again. “But you’re ruining my idyllic moment”

Jaskier laughs out loud at my observation, yet it is true. The meadow we are on is indeed quite beautiful. Beams of sunlight reach us from above, filtering between the tall tree trops. The grass carries a strong yet pleasant scent. Tiny daisies of white petals peek amongst the vibrant green. I am tempted to pick some of the flowers out and ask Jaskier if he knows how to make a flower crown. For me or him, I don’t mind. Perhaps even for Geralt, it would be certainly a sight worth seeing: a witcher with a flower crown… surely, a scowling witcher in that case.

This is the very same meadow we found an injured Geralt in, though I make a conscious effort to substitute that memory with this current one of wandering around with them, listening to Jaskier beautifully singing and knowing that, even if obnoxiously, Geralt is looking after me.

Just when I managed to silence Geralt, my delightful moment is suddenly interrupted by the bard’s cautious voice.

“Who… who’s that?” He stares somewhere over my shoulder, so I turn around following his gaze. A woman is standing there, looking at us. An odd feeling creeps up to the pit of my stomach. I can’t see her face because she has covered her head with the hood of her maroon cape but… her eyes… brown, kind and warm… they look familiar…

I frown, though the gesture soon softens. That woman stares at us, and I hear Jaskier behind me muttering things to Geralt. I don’t distinguish his words, I’m far too focused on her. It can’t be…

“H-Hana?” My voice gets caught in my throat, shaking as much as my hands suddenly are.

“Nissa?” When she speaks, I get all confirmation I need. Her voice. It’s Hana’s voice…

My mind blanks. I freeze. My ears whistle. The sunlight dims. I cannot believe it…

“Isn’t that your friend?” Jaskier fidgets behind me. “Y-Yeah, from the tavern, I saw you talking that day, before…”

Before that dreadful day. The day she died. The day I lost her. Yet… he is right, Hana is standing there. Before us. Alive. She’s actually there. She… Oh, God… A wave of nausea hits me. The world seems to spin around me. Two arms get ahold of me, making me realize I am swaying. Not only swaying, I am falling. I’m… I’m…

“Nissa!!” My friends call me before I sink into that welcoming darkness.

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