Chapter Text
Geralt had long since had a standing rule that there would be absolutely no substitution for payment. It was coin and coin alone. The things people offered him as stand-in’s always were either not equal in value or led to more trouble than it was worth.
They seemed to think he would accept just anything, and others it seemed were trying to set him up for disaster. For instance, a man offered him a chicken. A chicken in and of itself wasn't the problem, it had been a small job and the man was dirt poor- just a farmer trying to support his family and rid them of a monster that was terrorizing his farm. Either way, coin or chicken, it would be a meal. He left with the bird but before he could cook it, a young girl, not even a teen yet, tracked him down with tears staining her cheek and demanding her pet back. When she learned what he had been planning all hell had broken loose.
Geralt didn't eat that night.
People seemed to have the notion that he would accept anything as payment. He had been offered the oddest of things from elf skulls to pets, sexual favors, even enslaved individuals who were kept simply for not being fully human like himself. All of which (most of which, he couldn't help himself when it came to a pretty face) he politely declined, insisting on the coin.
So when the fat man, Something something with an A, whatever his name, with a Cheshire cat grin on his face who had promised him a handsome amount of ducats for killing the local rampant beast that was killing his crops on his plantation had approached him, he accepted. The man resembled a typical jackass, his obvious excessive eating used as a status symbol of wealth to show how much food he could afford for himself.
He bore an ugly, smug smile when Geralt tossed the head of the monster down at his feet, waiting for him to produce a satchel that had the sweet jingle of metal in it which he rightly deserved. Behind him, a half-naked man coward with his wrists shackled together, not meeting anyone's gaze. He was dirty and near skin and bones, brown hair matted and oily, scars and bruises covering his fair skin. His jaw was hidden behind a gag wrapped around his head and stuffed tightly into his mouth.
Geralt nearly growled with frustration. He wasn't an idiot, he could see where this was heading.
"For payment," the fat man grabbed the other by his arm, throwing him forward and into the dirt at Geralt's boots just as he had done with the head of the monster. "Half fossegrim and half selkie."
Geralt looked down, disgusted in the treatment of the poor creature. He had never agreed with the treatment of creatures who were sentient just the same as human, not that he was going to associate himself with humanity more than he had to, and definitely was not about to strike up an argument in favor of them. It would only cause more problems than it would good.
“Selkie maw?” he asked. The creature looked too much like a beautiful man to be half selkie maw. Those things were hideous with their slime and jowls.
The human-like creature kept his eyes to the ground, not so much as daring to look up at the stranger he was thrown to. Briefly, Geralt wondered what kind of life someone had to live to be that fearful, but he brushed the thought aside immediately, focusing on the situation at hand.
“No, just a normal selkie woman.”
It made much more sense than what he was picturing but it didn’t change his mind. "I don't accept payment in any other form than coin."
He had dealt with this far too many times, each time more tiring than the last. Rich people thinking they can pawn off whatever they wanted onto him despite having the coin to do so just to get rid of whatever they didn't want anymore.
"Well," the man snorted. "Unlucky for you, this is all you're getting. Now get lost before the same happens to you, mutant."
A quick, hard punch to the face sent the man toppling over, the snap of his nose audible even over the noise of the streets. Blood spilled over his lips, unconscious in an instant.
Great. What was he to do with the creature now?
“Fuck.”
Occasionally, Geralt could admit that he didn't think things through as often as people thought.
The Witcher turned his attention back to the man-like figure who still laid in the dirt. Even though he wasn't looking up at him, he could feel his attention was completely on him, fear palpable.
"Get up." Geralt ordered gruffly. He felt slightly bad at the panicked scramble the creature did, shaking on his feet and still not raising his head.
He could always take him to a town over, drop him off and get the hell away from this shitshow which was quickly becoming the plan.
"You're not human." Geralt sniffed at him. Humans had a distinct smell, even if only a small amount of human blood in them. "At all."
He didn't respond even with a nod or sound.
"You're sentient though. Selkie and fossegrim are smart."
The man still didn't respond.
Geralt looked around. Dusk had already settled low on the horizon and the next town would at least be half a days ride if not more with someone slowing him and Roach down. Besides, Roach undoubtedly needed to recuperate after the intense day the two had.
"Come with me," Geralt ordered, grabbing onto Roach's reins and leading her towards an inn with stables outside. He kept an eye behind him, making sure the creature was still following him.
Despite his new audience, he was sure to love on his horse as he removed her tack, brushing and cleaning her coat of the grime from the day. Once she was thoroughly taken care of and he had paid the stable boy enough to feed and watch after her, he turned towards the inn, not acknowledging the creature trailing after him until they got just outside the inn’s doors. He pushed the gag out of his mouth, ignoring the flinch of terror at the touch. There were harsh red lines where the cloth had been, but there was nothing he could do about that now, they’d disappear only with time.
The innkeeper raised her eyebrows at the pair when they entered the simple cottage type building. Before she could comment on the very much half-clothed, young man who looked to be half his age, wrists bound. Geralt slapped the money down onto the stone counter with a glare. The old woman gave him a sneer as if she had already made up her mind as to what was going to be happening in her room before handing him a room key, pulling the money back beneath the counter.
"Baths are drawn at sunrise if you'd like one, it'll cost extra to have one made any other time" was all she said before Geralt turned, striding down the hallway adjacent to them.
Quiet footsteps assured him that he was still in the company of his newly acquired... slave? He felt uncomfortable even thinking about owning another person or thing outside of an animal.
Once he was in the room, he opened the door in an invitation, letting the creature in first. Of course, the room had one bed, its walls blank and uninviting. At least, it was clean, which was better than the majority of the inns he had stayed in.
He shut the door to save the pair from the prying ears of the innkeeper who seemed far too interested in their affairs to be healthy. "What's your name?"
"Jaskier," the man whispered quietly.
"The town knows what you are?" Geralt asked, unlatching his armor in preparation for much-needed rest. When the creature- Jaskier- nodded, he continued. "So I can't just leave you here."
No reply.
Geralt sighed heavily, letting his armor and bag fall to the floor with a loud thump that made the other flinch back.
"Relax," Geralt said, trying to sound comforting. Instead, he seemed to tense up, even more, not helping the situation. "Do you want a bath?"
Jaskier shook his head, shrinking down into himself and pulling his bound arms closer.
Geralt wasn't a talker. It would be great if the creature would offer some type of words, explanation, anything to distract from the awkward air forming between them when Geralt didn't reply, focusing on stripping out of his armor to his undershirt and pants. “I’ll untie you in the morning when I can trust you won’t attack me in the middle of the night.”
Jaskier didn’t offer any protest.
"I'm hungry, I'm going to go find something to eat. Do you want something?" Geralt asked eventually.
It was obvious what the answer should be. Geralt could count the ribs poking out of his sides underneath the candlelight he lit to illuminate the room some since the sun had long since set. Instead, Jaskier shook his head again.
"Suit yourself," Geralt sighed, heading towards the door. He wasn't going to let him starve, he really just wanted him to speak up. He made his way to the kitchen, and though the staff was gone for the night he nabbed some bread and cheese. It wasn't exactly healthy, nor could it compare to meat, but it would do for the night. He grabbed himself a hearty helping and then an extra helping in case the creature came around to eating before heading back to the room.
When he opened the door, Jaskier was in the midst of examining the room, freezing the second the door creaked open.
Geralt huffed, plopping down into the chair at the small writing desk and spreading out the bounty of food he was able to find. Ignoring the man, he tore into the bread, groaning at the taste of food. He had long burnt off his breakfast during the fight. Thankfully he had noted that the kitchen had plenty of food, so if they ran out he could go get more.
He was well aware of the eyes watching him once his back was turned, but he didn't react, instead, chowing down and hoping he would make up his mind and come get something to eat as well.
It wasn't until he had finished off an entire loaf of bread and a hefty chunk of cheese did his stomach protest the large amount of food all at once.
"Are you finished?" That timid voice spoke up from the back of the room.
"Yeah," Geralt assured him, turning his attention.
Apparently, ending the conversation there was not what the creature needed to hear as he also stopped, not daring to vocalize what he wanted.
"Would you like some?" Geralt asked eventually, tired of the timid shyness. He understood, at least on some level. He was afraid, anyone would be. Being given to a stranger as if you meant nothing couldn't be something pleasant in any circumstances, but he really wasn’t equipped to handle… emotions.
"What will you want in return?"
It was the boldest, longest sentence Jaskier had managed to say since they had met. Geralt turned finally, gold eyes searching the creature's face.
He was so, so young looking. He knew he was an adult, most likely around his twenties, but he had a baby face to him, dull blue eyes timidly meeting his own across the room, looking ready to flee at any second.
"Nothing. It isn't as if I asked for you. I'm just trying to be,” what was the word? Not a dickhead?
“Nice."
A sad, hurt snort echoed in the cold air. "Right. A Witcher being kind to something like me."
As soon as the words left his mouth, a look of pure regret and horror crossed his face contorting something already sad into something much worse. "I'm sorry, my-my lord."
Geralt raised an eyebrow before standing. Jaskier cowered back a step, eyes wide though he made no move to run.
He stepped away from the table, holding out his arm in an open invitation. "Listen, kid, I'm tired. Eat whatever you want, we'll figure this mess out in the morning, alright?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Quit calling me that," Geralt growled, kicking his boots off beside the bed.
"Yes, sir?" he asked, puzzled.
"Geralt."
Jaskier nodded, making his way to the table. "Yes, Geralt."
Geralt rolled his eyes. It was more of a title than a name, but he'd accept it for now. "When you're finished, come get some sleep, we have a long ride tomorrow."
He could feel the uncertainty radiating off of him at the implied meaning of the sentence. Perhaps, Geralt wandered, if he didn't address it, it would be alright.
"Yes, Geralt."
Perhaps it was the exhaustion. Perhaps he was used to the many women and men he bedded, but either way even with Jaskier in the room with him, he was able to fall asleep easily. It wasn't until he felt the bed dip beside him did he stir from his slumber.
"What do you want me to do?" A quiet voice asked with a quivering hand laying gently against his forearm.
"Nothing." Geralt shook his hand off, disgusted by the mere thought of taking advantage of him in that aspect. He rolled over, turning his back to the creature. "Go to sleep, dammit."
After a long moment, he felt the body next to him relax slowly.
The morning sun had just begun to shine threw the windows, stirring Geralt from his sleep when a harsh knock at the door startled him fully awake.
"Do you require a bath drawn this morning?" A voice called threw the door.
"Yes!" he shouted back, groaning at all the yelling that was happening so early in the morning. He smelt like onions or something fouler. Either way, it was gross.
Rolling over, he was immediately greeted by those frightened blue eyes again. At least the dark bags beneath him had dissipated some, though it was easy to tell he hadn't slept nearly as much as Geralt had.
Geralt grunted at him before rising with a stretch.
Jaskier followed his lead, rising from the bed and beginning to make it. Geralt raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. Instead, he wandered over to the table to hide the evidence of their raiding of the kitchen only to find nothing was left. Jaskier noticed him looking over the table and nervously spoke up. "I'm sorry."
Geralt shrugged. "I got it for us to eat, nothing to be sorry for. Before we head out we will stop at the tavern and get something better in our stomachs for the day."
Jaskier accepted the answer, visibly relaxing.
The two existed in easy silence until the inn maids came in with the water to fill the bath for them. Once they left, Geralt turned to Jaskier, examining who was dirtier. Both of them looked pretty awful. This job was costing him far more than he made which was nothing to begin with.
"I'll bathe first and then I'll ask for another bath. Alright?"
Jaskier nodded and Geralt was off to the other room he had yet to visit. In it the tub, the water the maids had just poured steamed slightly, promising the relaxation of hot water next to a toilet. He relieved himself before stripping down and relaxing back into the bath with every intention of planning out the day. They'd go find breakfast, ride until they found a safe town, and Geralt would drop Jaskier off and immediately leave. He could get supplies in town to camp out with Roach for the night until he found another job to do so he could afford a place to stay.
So lost in thought, he almost missed the beautiful melody coming from the other room. The words were low and quiet, just barely made out above the sound of the water sloshing over the sides with every move.
“What is this pulling, tugging at my
Limbs so heavy dragging me down again
So I'm hoping, this cold blue water
Scrubs me clean and spits me out again
Because I just want to feel the sunlight
Warm and soothing…”
Each word was entrancing, more beautiful than the last. Geralt could almost see the melody, feeling his body relax into the calm, sad words, sinking further and further into the water.
"Geralt!"
His eyes snapped open, surprised to see Jaskier standing above him with a scared, panicked look in his eyes. It was the first time he got a good look at his face up close, noticing how similar their eyes were. While his glowed gold, Jaskier were an unnatural blue like they held the ocean in their depths.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whimpered, falling to his knees next to the bath.
Geralt hadn't realized how low he had sunk into the waters of the bath. He sat up quickly, wiping the water from his face. "What?"
"I didn't... I didn't think you could hear me. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to hurt you, swear by it-" Jaskier rambled, hands fluttering around Geralt, checking to make sure he wasn't injured.
Slowly it dawned on him. He had never dealt with a fossegrim before but he knew what they were, men similar to sirens, malevolent creatures who sing with intent to drowned women just as a siren did men. He supposed it would work on anyone, not just women.
"You almost killed me," Geralt uttered, looking at Jaskier in surprise.
"I didn't mean to, sir, I would never, I was taught better than to attack my masters-"
Geralt cringed. "Don't call me that."
There was a sincere and honesty in his voice. Geralt was not a trusting man by any means, you don’t stay alive in this world by trusting.
“And I’m supposed to believe that?” he asked, disbelieving. The gag still sat around his neck, thoroughly forgotten until that moment. It must have been why his previous owner had kept his mouth bound, so he couldn’t fight back.
"Right, sorry, Geralt." Jaskier let out a sigh. "I really didn't think you could hear me in the other room.”
Geralt shrugged, ringing out his drenched hair. "You have a very beautiful voice." It was hard not to listen. “If I hear it again, I’ll gag you.”
Jaskier nodded, accepting the threat for what it was, yet still, he opened his mouth again."My mother taught me that song when I was young, I can't remember most of it, though."
Were they at the point that they were freely disclosing personal information? Not really, Geralt had only been stuck with him for less than a full day. But, he did nearly kill him. He supposed it was Jaskier's way of proving how he truly didn't mean to almost kill him.
"Do you need help bathing? I can wash your hair or your back." Jaskier offered helpfully, holding up his still bound wrists.
“I’m supposed to untie your hands and let you near me in the bath when not five minutes earlier you attacked me.”
Jaskier looked away for a moment before back to Geralt. “That’s fair. I’m just offering my services. Mostly because I’d like to stretch if I’m being honest.”
"You're suddenly very talkative," Geralt commented, considering his options.
He didn’t trust him in the slightest. But if he wanted to, in turn, gain his trust enough to make it to the next town, there would have to be compromise. With a finality to his decision, he untied the ropes, releasing the limbs from the tight binding. Rope burn had skinned the sensitive skin, leaving raw wounds in their place as Jaskier stretched, sighing in relief as the tension from his shoulders and arms slowly melted.
Geralt, in a show of trust more than the actual feeling, relaxed back and let the man run his fingers through his hair, finding the soap offered by the inn and begin lathering it in. If anything, he figured he could kill the creature and move on if he acted on any impulse.
"The man who owned me before would have had me whipped for singing to him like that, not compliment me. And he definitely would never have stolen food for me." Jaskier explained.
Geralt wasn't about to lie, it felt wonderful to let Jaskier scrub at his scalp. "I've been trying to explain to you that I didn't want to own you in the first place."
"Well, to be fair, I'm not human in the slightest. Given to someone trained to kill... monsters. Like me." his words choked for a moment before he continued. "What was I supposed to do? Just trust that you weren't going to be as wretched and mean as everyone else?" Jaskier laughed though there was no humor in his voice. He urged Geralt's shoulders down who obliged, letting him rinse his hair gently.
When he arose, he took the soap from him, going over his body quickly before standing.
Jaskier helpfully handed him a towel with the smallest of smiles.
Geralt looked him up and down before taking the cloth. “So is that your power? Drowning people. That’s why that man had you in the first place.”
Jaskier looked away, clamming up instantly.
Geralt knew when to leave well enough alone. He stepped out of the bath, drying his skin. His clothes didn’t smell that bad, so he shrugged his shirt back on over his head and his pants. When he turned back around, Jaskier was staring longingly at the bathwater.
“I’ll pay to have the water changed so you can bathe as well.”
He really did try not to care, but there was something about Jaskier that made him want to.
“Thank you!” he hopped up. “I’ll repay you as soon as I can.”
Geralt grunted in response. He made his way down the hall to the front desk of the innkeeper and paid, ignoring her obvious interest yet again.
The witcher made his way back to his room to assure Jaskier of where he was while he bathed before making his way to the stables to tack Roach back up. She was happy to see him, nosing and nibbling at his hair each time he bent down in front of her. Horses, he found, and animals, in general, made for great company. She had never been afraid of him, never believed the rumors spread that fueled hate of his kind. She was reliable and affectionate towards him, and really, what more could he ask for in a travel companion.
Once she was ready, he went back to the room, putting his own armor back on and throwing his bag over his shoulder with his sword.
Just as he turned around to go to the bathroom, Jaskier emerged, toweling off his hair.
With the grime and mud washed from his skin and hair finally cleaned, he made a truly beautiful sight. There was of course still scattered scars and bruises covering his skin, but he was lithe, some muscle clinging to his arms that hadn’t been eaten away yet by lack of food.
Both fossegrim and selkies were known for their beauty, and it showed in Jaskier’s body.
“Geralt?”
The Witcher shook himself out of his stare, glancing up at his face. “Do you have clothes?”
Unbothered by the Witcher’s gaze at his very much naked body, Jaskier held up a pair of pants. “It’s all I’ve got.”
Geralt nodded. “We’ll have to stop and get you a shirt and some shoes as well.”
Jaskier abandoned the towel, sliding his worn and dirty pants back on and looking at Geralt for direction as to what to do next.
“Umm…” Geralt pulled his bag off his shoulder, rifling through until he found one of his spare shirts. “It’s dirty, but it will have to do if we want to eat.” he tossed the shirt to the man which he quickly slid on.
It hung off his shoulders, so large it draped around him as if it was a dress rather than a shirt. His height at least helped to fill it in some, but not enough even when he tied the top strings around his neck as tight as he could make it. He looked like he was wearing a pillowcase almost, completely swamping him in the fabric.
Geralt’s nostrils flared. An overly attractive man wearing his shirt and smelling of him was certainly doing it for him, not that he would ever admit that to the creature. “Let’s go.”