In the grand tradition of The Witcher, Yennefer helps Jaskier take a bath
Like you do.
⚠SFW mention of nudity.
The one thing that people never mention when it comes to giant squirrels are the giant paw prints they leave behind for extremely small people to trip into, covering themselves in mud. Yennefer hadn't really thought about the implications because she was currently six foot, four inches, and the whole world felt just a little smaller to her.
And Jaskier?
Well, he was just absolutely the tiniest.
And she could not stop taking photographs or videos of him trying to do seemingly normal things. His indignation was the most amusing thing about this void episode.
Yennefer had been keeping an eye out at night, when there seemed to be something trying to press in the walls of whatever barrier kept Derleth from whatever was out there. She tried not to think about it. She had no books to research the creature, and if there was anything she'd learned from Geralt, it was that there were too many creatures and too many ways to stop them. Beheading was a fine idea until something needed silver or a goddamn crypt.
Jaskier falling into a footprint of mud simply made her day. Yennefer started laughing as soon as she'd seen him go sprawling.
He might have been playing to the camera. Yennefer had made for an invaluable companion this week, being one of his friends to find themselves taller than ever before. If making her laugh, kept her nearby, then Jaskier found himself more than willing to ham it up from time to time. At first, it was all just a ploy for her help, or at least that was what he told himself until he realized he enjoyed making her laugh.
Biffing it had not been on purpose.
Jaskier landed and faceplanted in the mud. He’d been so careful. The bathrooms were out of reach for him this week, and he had been content to relieve himself privately in The Green, as the squirrels appeared to have very little interest in eating or bothering him. But that meant no showers or baths, despite the cunning use of pipes and electricity that made them so much easier to access even daily if it was desired.
He missed the modern convenience, but he would get by this week like he had regularly in his life back home on The Continent.
The mud really put a damper on things.
“What? What? WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM? HOW CAN THERE BE MUD WHEN IT DOESN’T EVEN RAIN??” Jaskier shouted, arms flailing to the white void above them, as if this would justify his surprise or even perhaps some arbiter of Derleth would reveal themselves to apologize for being so inconsiderate.
Jaskier's flailing was more amusing than him actually falling into random mud. The footprint was enormous. Must have been the day when there were even bigger squirrels around. The water? Who knew? It didn't really matter because it was here, and he had fallen in it. Yennefer laughed hard.
Even if there was a tiny bit that felt sorry for him. He was teeny, and things must have been more overwhelming, right? Doing normal things at two foot tall just seemed like a massive (pun intended) problem to her. She crouched beside him and reached out a hand to help him up, even as she screwed up her face to keep from outright laughing in his face.
"You may not be the only one using the Green as a privy, you know."
There might have been details about Yennefer’s laugh that Jaskier might have picked up on. But any charm or enjoyment he got from mostly his expense was gone when she uttered the word privy. Jaskier’s mouth opened into a large, expressive, horrified ‘O’ shape.
No, now that she had mentioned it, the thought would not leave his head. He gave himself a good sniff, but though it did not smell strongly of urine the idea that it still might be made the situation just that much more intolerable.
“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO GET CLEAN?” he shouted.
He was incredibly animated, and just aware enough to know it didn’t make the situation any less amusing but the opposite. He had a plan. A plan that involved him not having to use a bathroom far too large for him.
Now it seemed he was stuck.
She shook her hand out in front of him once more, in an offer to help him out of the hole he'd fallen into. Yennefer had an idea, but it required Jaskier to trust her more than she thought he did.
It didn't stop her from forcing her chuckle to quiet. The more he floundered and gestured, the more eager she was to pull out her camera. Some things just needed to be recorded.
"Do you trust me?" she asked, deciding to leave the phone in a small pouch at her waist. "Because I can reach all the things you need for you to get all of this —" she gestured at his entirely too-small body. Everything was so neat and proportioned that it just seemed odd if she thought about it too long. "— off. But it requires me to see you naked."
Jaskier took the offered giant hand and pulled himself up. He was caked. It felt heavy and wet and he might have compared it to the feeling of cement if he were more familiar with it.
He was both touched by the offer and wary of it. Not because he didn’t trust her, he did. He just knew he was also opening himself up to a slew of jokes about his tiny manhood. But so be it. He didn’t want to know what would happen if the thick layer of mud dried on him and he let out a long suffering sigh.
“Yes, I trust you.”
With that, Yennefer scooped him up. He wasn't very heavy, to be honest. Maybe the size of a toddler, and she could have picked one of those up before. She held him like one too, tucking him against her side, with her arm around his back.
It must have looked utterly ridiculous.
"Right then. Off to the showers with us. Any particular scents you're interested in?"
If she was going to do this, she was going to do this right. Pick some scents, get some of the products she'd acquired over the weeks at various places. Besides, he was starting to smell a little, even without the mud. She'd gotten used to being able to bathe more often, and all of the denizens of Derleth doing the same.
It was not very dignified, but the fact that Yennefer was willing to carry him when neither of them were really sure of the mud’s origin also meant something to the bard. What it meant, he wasn’t quite certain. Something, probably.
They almost never said his name. Geralt (well, technically the jinn) had been their connection. And he wasn’t here, and even if he was, both of them had ended things on bad terms.
Still sometimes Jaskier wondered if Yennefer mostly looked after him due to some feeling of loyalty toward the witcher. Jaskier didn’t blame her if that was the case.
“Oh, whatever you have. I’m certain I’ll be fine if I smell like a sorceress for the rest of the week.” He made a dramatic, exaggerated sigh as if he had no choice but to accept his fate. But the truth was, he trusted her.
There was some loyalty because of He Whose Name Shall Not Be Spoken, but the truth was: they were likely a little jealous of the relationship the other had with Geralt. Jaskier got to see him more often, and Yennefer slept with him. She used to flaunt that in Jaskier's face, but there was no point here.
Not even the misplaced loyalty to Geralt would have made her keep up the pretense of spending any time with him if she didn't secretly enjoy his company. Yennefer had never let anyone dictate what she did.
"That gives me nothing to work with. Flowers, fruit, or musk?" Yennefer had taken well more than she needed, but who knew when they'd be somewhere to stock up on more.
And yes, she'd have to launder her outfit. He was still muddy, after all, no matter how it got that way. "I'll have to find a tub for you. Something you won't drown in."
“Musk?” Jaskier said. Flowers and fruit were all very good, but musk seemed more masculine. Not that he was especially masculine at his mere two feet in height, being carried around like a wee child. “Honestly, I just want to get out of these clothes and soak. Perhaps we can use a normal tub, and just fill it up very slightly? I don’t need a swim, after all.”
The tubs in the dorms weren’t uncomfortable, but they weren’t large, glamorous fixtures either. If there was going to be an advantage to his decreased size, he could do with a little bit of imagined luxury.
"I could use a swim." A nice clear lake somewhere on the Continent where she could swim naked and bathe in the actual sun. "Might do you some good not to have a monster chasing you while you do it."
While she talked, she took the stairs two at a time. They weren't in a hurry or anything, she just liked being able to do it without breaking much of a sweat at the moment. After all her experiences here, this would be gone soon enough.
Once to her dorm, she let them in and set Jaskier down. She trusted one of her roommates, but didn't know the others so she kept her things in her room. Yennefer shooed him off to the bathroom while she went to get her supply of bathing items. When she returned, it was with an armful of bath salts and oils, shampoo and conditioner. If she was going to do this, she was going to do this proper. It did make her miss the bath in Rinde, though. She set everything out and began to run the bath.
"Get it all off then."
The mud was heavy and cackled on his clothing. Perhaps the particles themselves were larger because it was a struggle to get them off. After a small amount of finding the various fastenings and ties, he managed to drop his ruined clothing with a loud, slapping plop of a sound.
Generally, he was not a shy or bashful man. But Yennefer was also a great deal more beautiful than the women Jaskier normally found himself naked with. Fen and Margo were also beautiful but Fen, despite her lycanthropy and love of knives, was the furthest thing from an intimidating woman, and Margo was aggressive and had been largely focused on Fen.
But Yennefer? Somehow the idea of disappointing her or not quite meeting her standards was intimidating. And he was not as his regular, erm, size as it were. Even if he was proportional it wasn’t precisely how he would have chosen to reveal himself to her for the first time.
So he stood there, hands over his manhood, trying to look as casual as he possibly could about the situation. If he showed fear it would only make things worse.
He was showing fear even if he didn't realize it. His hand over his cock could only mean one thing to Yennefer: bashfulness. And she knew that Jaskier was not bashful. She'd heard rumors of his trysts, and the countless lovers he'd taken along the way. It seemed he might be undone by a simple bath.
And the stories Geralt shared of having to rescue him from cuckolded husbands.
"Did you hide your dick from Geralt, as well? Or am I just that special?" she asked, as she dipped her hand into the water to make sure that it was warming up. Then she tossed some bath salts into the mix and used her fingers to let it swirl around. The vanilla warmed up quickly and left the entire bathroom smelling of baked goods. "I do realize you're only two-foot tall. And to be honest, large cocks are not always good. You have to know what you're doing."
“Me? Hiding?” Jaskier made a sort of dismissive horse sound with his lips as he tried to downplay things further. “I only thought it was right to spare you, as a member of the fairer sex, from seeing anything potentially untoward. Just because you’re helping me bathe doesn’t mean you’re interested in an eyeful.”
That was an excellent save, Jaskier thought. His hands still didn’t quite move from position but Jaskier rolled back and forth casually on the balls of his feet, waiting patiently for the bath water. It smelled delightful at least. Showers were fine, but they lacked the satisfaction of a proper bath.
Making Jaskier look slightly more ridiculous, not that he needed the help, was the way the mud shaped his hair into a sort of sideways mohawk.
"Jaskier…"
Yennefer set something called a Squatty Potty next to the bathtub. It would be a useful stool for him to climb in. She had no intentions of picking him up and dumping him in the bath. Funny as that scene played out in her mind.
"You realize that I'm almost a hundred years old, yeah? That I've seen far more private bits than you likely ever will, and — oh yeah, I've grabbed your cock before." He'd been uncooperative in Rinde, and she thought a little stimulation — positive or negative — would help the situation. "I wouldn't have offered to help you out if I was going to be averting my eyes and swooning at the thought."
“Oh yes, who could forget.” Jaskier hesitated a moment but then had to uncover himself in order to climb up onto the step, over the ledge of the bath and then after some struggle, drop down into the other side. Being picked up and placed in might have been easier. Given how slick the sides of the tub were, he wasn’t entirely certain how he was getting out.
“Swooning wasn’t what I was really worried about anyway,” Jaskier admitted. Yennefer was intimidating and sometimes a touch mean. It was really laughter he wasn’t ready to hear, even if the two of them constantly ribbed one another. He didn’t mind that, that was part of their friendship.
But men had sometimes fragile lines they weren’t always willing to admit could be crossed. So instead of saying anything more, Jaskier did his best to act very casual about the entire situation, using the scented water and his hands to start scrubbing the mud from his hair and skin.
She looked. Of course she did. When was she ever going to get another chance at seeing Jaskier, two foot tall, and naked? Yennefer might be mean, but she wasn't an idiot. Besides it was difficult not to look when you were trying to make sure that he didn't lose his balance, slip, and hit his head.
Eh, not bad. She'd seen worse. She'd fucked worse.
Not that she was planning to ever fuck Jaskier.
"You were worried I might laugh?" Yennefer's eyebrows rose as she looked down at him. She reached a hand into the water, cupping a handful, and letting it run down his back to help with the mud. "Aren't you shagging a werewolf? And her friend?"
“Technically they’re both werewolves. I didn’t have to do much, really. I think they were more interested in one another. Not that I’m complaining. They were both lovely.”
He might have written a song about it. One that would probably be performed never. At least not when either woman would be around to maul him for committing their tryst to song.
He left the laughter question unanswered and instead leaned forward and stretched as Yennefer pour water over him. The kindness wasn’t lost on him. He would have absolutely slept with her, despite the thousands of reasons why that was a poor idea, if he ever thought Yennnefer was interested.
Jaskier was an intelligent, well educated man. He was also an idiot.
A hundred years and Yennefer didn't have many people she could call friend. Jaskier had grown on her, like lichen. The fun was in their banter, and they both shared the sore point known as Geralt. Despite the Witcher's curt manner, they had both grown fond of him. Then when they were at their worst, Geralt's wish felt like a betrayal to Yennefer. Yennefer who just yearned to be important to someone.
Then Geralt took that out on Jaskier. Yennefer would have offered him a ride if she hadn't been so upset that she could barely see. And then the anger set in. A thing couldn't hurt you anymore if you just hated it, so that's what she did.
By the time Sodden Hill came along, Yennefer was ready to pay for some of her past selfishness. After all, it was her who stole Aedirn from Fringilla, leading to all of this war. There was some form of responsibility there.
"I still can't believe you asked to be immune to werewolfism and not to cure it." Another handful to run water down his back before Yennefer reached for bathing oil and a slight bit of bubble bath.
“Oh…” Jaskier said. Once Yenner said the words it seemed so obvious. “Yeah, that would have been a better wish.”
But then Fen and Margo hadn’t asked for a cure to their lycanthropy either. Maybe they liked it? Jaskier couldn’t imagine why but perhaps there was a freedom to transforming into a hairy beast once a month.
He shrugged.
“Probably a lot of better things I could have asked for. I wasn’t really expecting to find The White Lady, to be honest. Just sort of said the first thing that popped into my head. At least no one nearly died from my wish.”
Geralt’s wishes had been worse.
"Yeah, well now his final wish is broken so we'll never have to see each other again. I hope that means he'll never show up here." Yennefer had let her guard down since being here. The longer she was here with no sign of the White Wolf, the more relieved she was.
Except she was lonely. There were limited people and a good deal of them were just not interesting enough to bother talking to, let alone anything else.
Jaskier may be a rake, a bit of a ponce, as some would say, but when he wasn't singing, you could count on him to tell the truth. He was an earnest idiot, and Yennefer — loathe as she was to admit it — appreciated that about him.
(She might also enjoy his slight terror of her.)
"You know, I had him bathe the night you came to Rinde. He made snide comments about how Aretuza fixed me up. Fixing my split ends." Her mouth twisted. "He has no idea what I was like before."
Jaskier looked up at that, sharply interested in that tale.
“What were you like? ...I mean, if you don’t mind my asking.”
Yennefer stiffened, staring straight ahead. She could throw him off here, make some off-hand comment about being two foot tall and having to endure that torture. Or she could… just be honest. It was very rare that Yennefer gave away anything about herself, but if there was anyone who had earned it, Jaskier was among them.
"My real father was half elf, which doesn't always mix well with human blood." She didn't look at Jaskier; she didn't want to see pity. "I was incredibly deformed. A twisted spine that meant I could barely walk, let alone pick anything up. And my jaw made it hard to talk."
She sniffed and looked at her bathing items.
Jaskier paused.
“Geralt is so rude. He makes these little comments, belittling everyone. I’m the Witcher. I’m so old. That’s why I’m cranky and think I know everything. Well! He clearly didn’t know that about you or he would have kept his mouth shut.”
Jaskier’s impression of the Witcher was categorically terrible. But then, it didn’t have to be good to get his point across. Or to possibly make her laugh.
Yennefer's mouth twitched with a small smile. It wasn't much, but it alleviated any doubts she had about mentioning any of this to the bard. It also wasn't going to keep her from making jokes at his expense (and she hoped it won't keep him from doing the same). Not everyone could keep up with her, or even tolerate it half as well as Jaskier could.
"I doubt he would have believed me anyway," she answered, turning her hand over so that Jaskier could not see the scars left from her losing control. "And I don't want any pity over it."
And with that, she grabbed two handfuls of water and poured it over Jaskier's head, like some sort of temporary waterfall.
Jaskier raised his arms to protect himself from the impromptu waterfall.
“Pity? No. Terror is much more fitting,” Jaskier teased. Would Geralt have believed? Jaskier thought he would, but he didn’t feel it was right to contradict Yennefer, especially since this was more about an emotional truth.