Try, Please Try For Me

A Bargain

Geralt wakes up with a splitting headache which is surprising because he wasn't expecting to wake up at all.

His head is spinning. It feels like someone has shoved cotton into his mouth.

He groans softly and takes a quick assessment of his condition.

The wound in his chest isn't bleeding from what he can see, but it still hurts like hell even if the Swallow did its job well. He has a few cuts and bruises but nothing too bad. Everything is also...hazy. He's over sensitive like when he takes too many potions but his mind feels clouded rather than sharpened. The world around him is too bright and too loud and he can't make sense of anything.

He's probably drugged. That would make sense. The only thing that doesn't quite make sense is why he's still alive.

Geralt blinks his eyes open, forcing himself to look at his surroundings despite the way his head is spinning.

Night has fallen, but the darkness brings no respite for his senses. The moonlight and flickering torches that surround him leave him feeling dizzy. The sound of men talking is overwhelming.

He's in what looks to be the courtyard of a castle ruin. The structure is old, probably around the same age as Kaer Morhen, and is steadily being retaken by nature. He's chained in the center of the courtyard-- metal shackles, attached to strong iron chains fastened into the stone slab beneath him. On the far side of the courtyard there's a series of makeshift tents, flying a modified Nilfgaardian banner-- a war camp. Secluded and hidden in an old ruin.

He had fought for as long as he could once the men caught up to him, not because he was expecting to win in his condition, but because each second he delayed them meant Jaskier could get farther out of their reach, and that was the only thing that mattered in the end.

Yes, so long as Jaskier is safe that's all that matters. Even if the last thing Geralt sees of him is the look of utter shock and betrayal on the bard's face. He's sure that expression will be burned into his memory for the rest of his life.

The thought of what he did...it hurts. Like someone has reached deep inside of him and torn something that will never heal, and Jaskier may never forgive him for it. But Geralt knows that it would have hurt so much more if the bard had died in front of him.

Jaskier will be alright. He's smart, he's capable, he'll get help from people in town or track down one of Geralt's brothers. Eskel and Lambert will make sure he's safe and well cared for, and in time Jaskier will forget all about Geralt, maybe even find someone new to love, someone better and more deserving of him.

He did the best he could for him.

A voice across the camp rouses him from his thoughts. "Oi, look, the witcher is awake."

Two men watch him from the other side of the courtyard. They're cautious in the way that humans usually are, even though Geralt is restrained. Most live their lives never even seeing a witcher these days, but the rumors keep them nervous, especially rumors about Geralt, and nervous men are more likely to lash out.

Geralt watches the two of them through narrowed eyes and one nudges the other before heading off into one of the larger tents. Some time passes, then the man emerges with the blond haired mage from earlier.

The mage says something to the man that Geralt can't make out amongst the noise of the camp, then the man nods and leaves, and the mage approaches Geralt.

"I was wondering when you'd wake up," Commander Kaspar says, striding towards him.

Geralt doesn't respond, just glares at him.