Try, Please Try For Me

An Audience With The Queen

Geralt sleeps for two days.

Jaskier spends most of that time utterly restless.

When they return to Faerie, Jaskier gets Geralt set up in a vacant cottage, one with rooms of moss coloured carpets and birch walls, where the two of them can rest and recover from the past few days.

There are many empty homes in Faerie-- Jaskier had learned that within the weeks he'd been forced to stay before his escape. Fae are flighty creatures by nature, and most prefer not to be tied down to one specific place for very long. So homes are left vacant, with faeries coming and going and staying in them as needed, before moving on to the next place. No single faerie really owns any of them, save for the queen's palace and traders and artisans who need a permanent location for their craft.

If not for everything that's happened, and his experience with the fae, Jaskier thinks it would be nice to entertain the idea of living in a place like this. Just him and Geralt in their own little home, free of the hardships of the path, the judgement of humans. It could just be the two of them living a simple domestic life. But Jaskier is practical enough to know that that is an idea and nothing more. Neither he nor Geralt would be content in retirement, both of them itch for new experiences.

On the first day, a healer tends to Geralt's injuries. He was in a rough state-- nearly dehydrated, drugged with some form of sedative, and in serious need of stitches.

Afterwards, Jaskier is left alone with Geralt while the witcher sleeps, his advanced healing taking care of the rest. He relegates himself to a plush chair in the corner of the bedroom and spends the afternoon watching over his witcher.

Jaskier's mind is a storm of feelings. He's relieved to have Geralt back-- grateful beyond belief, actually-- and every time he looks at the witcher's sleeping face he has the urge to just hold him close and never let go. But at the same time, he's hurt and angry. He loves Geralt, more than anything, but something deep inside him still sits like an open cut and he's not sure how long it will take to heal.

On the second day he grows more restless, and spends the day pacing around the cottage.

On the morning of the third day, he convinces himself to leave the house and get some food. When he returns, Geralt is sitting upright in bed, looking around the room curiously, and Jaskier finds himself frozen in the doorway.

"Jaskier..."

Geralt looks up at him and gives him one of those soft smiles and Jaskier is once again hit with a myriad of feelings like a punch to the gut. He wants to run. He wants to scream. He wants to kiss Geralt until neither of them can breathe.

Instead of doing any of those things, Jaskier sucks in a deep breath and stares at the witcher dumbly, blurting out, "you're awake," in a voice shaky and awkward enough to make himself cringe.

The witcher nods. "Thanks to you."

"You're looking better. How do you feel?"

Geralt looks down, hands clenching and unclenching as if assessing them for damage. "I...feel fine," he says. "Well rested."

"Good."

Jaskier should leave it at that. He wants to leave it at that, and just continue on as if nothing happened. But apparently he also has other ideas because suddenly his feet are moving on their own and his hands are balled into fists and before he knows it he's stomping across the room and punching Geralt square in the jaw.

The smack of the blow echoes through the air sharp and crisp. Geralt looks almost as surprised as Jaskier feels.

"How could you do that to me, you asshole!"