Work Text:
Jaskier leaned over, straightening everything just so. His boots, ruined now, were neatly lined up by the door. He’d have to find some way to afford a cobbler, one that didn’t involve his trade. He couldn’t do that just now, not when he knew what would be requested.
Carefully, he blew out the last candle, and tucked himself into bed. The straw was scratchy through the cover, and his head felt awkward laying this way, but it was better than the alternative.
Squeezing the doublet his pillow was wrapped in, he could almost pretend this wasn’t so sad.
“Goodnight, Geralt.”