We're not friends. How many times has he heard Geralt say that? Jaskier stops counting after a while.
He should've listened. But nooo, he gets cocky, lets the way Geralt allows him into his stories and his scars, shares his food and his rooms and protects him from angry husbands get to his head, feed his ego. Obviously Geralt cares about him, right? He's just an actions-rather-than-words kind of guy. Life has been rough for him, he doesn't know how to communicate. So many excuses has Jaskier made for Geralt's behavior through the years, thinking of himself to be so smart for figuring out what he calls Geralt-speech.
He should've listened.
If like could give me one blessing...
The words play on repeat in his head over and over as he makes his way down the mountain - tired, dirty, alone. Hurting. "See you around, Geralt" had been an answer spoken from shock, but with every step he takes with heavy feet, pain and anger build in his chest until they finally explode. Two decades, the best years of his short human life, his best songs... all wasted on this son of a bitch.
He really should've listened, he thinks again when he stops by a river to wash his face, not wanting to reach town with his eyes red from tears spilled over the biggest asshole in the world. He truly is a fool.
(He gets drunk that evening, and sings and dances for the local tavern until his feet and throat are sore. Drinking songs, naughty songs, adventure songs. But not a single song about the White Wolf.)
Oxenfurt seems to be the most logical step, so he stays there for a while, trying to put himself back together. He finishes "Her Sweet Kiss", adding to it a new bitter twist that didn't have before ("gorgeous garroter"? "lovely garroter"? how about neither). Half of the dinner hall cries when they hear him sing it for the first time. And it's the only song about Geralt he sings when he goes back to the road.
There's war coming, people need bards to help them forget. Oxenfurt may be home (in a way Lettenhove never was and never will) but Jaskier is still Jaskier, and he grows restless easily. He needs adventure, he needs his freedom. So back to the road he goes, jumping from inns to taverns, from courts banquets to weddings, singing for both pleasure and coin. People keep asking for the songs of the White Wolf, he deflects the best way he can - it's hard to escape his reputation.
The three soldiers that kidnap him from his room definitely don't let him forget.
They don't believe him when he says he doesn't have any idea about Geralt's whereabouts. They ask him about princess Cirilla as well, because they know he's played in court before. Bloody hell, if their information gathering is so good, how come they don't know Jaskier hasn't seen that asshole of a witcher in over a year? If they've been tracking him, surely they would've noticed the lack of very specific songs?
Jaskier tells them that after the first day. Obviously being afraid and obeying doesn't change anything, so if he's going to get hurt anyway, then at least he wants to use his tongue as it deserves. They think the whole separation deal is an act - Jaskier snorts.
If only.
They hit him and whip him, they keep him chained and only feed him some water and bread in the morning that he gets to throw up later when feet connect with his stomach. They don't ask about Geralt's location any longer, changing the tactic to wanting to know the witcher's secrets and weaknesses. Those Jaskier does know. He still doesn't tell. He tells himself it's because he doesn't want Nilfgaard to win.
The truth is, even now, he's still a loyal fool.
They leave guards outside. A waste of soldiers, because nobody is coming for him. Geralt isn't coming for him, but this part he keeps for himself - the guards possibly shitting themselves at the chance the White Wolf may come for them is the only little pleasure he can get from this situation.
It seems there's some commotion outside tonight, but he isn't paying attention. Jaskier stays in the corner of the cell, face and clothes covered in blood, pants reeking of piss, hugging his legs and waiting for sleep to come - if it comes at all. When the door opens, he whimpers in fear and tries to make himself smaller.
Jaskier has never been afraid of Geralt. For him, all the time. Of him? Never. Yet he reeks of it now. And when blue eyes finally look up and see who it is, they widen, filled with shock. Part of him thinks he must be dreaming.
"...Geralt?"
The voice is barely a murmur, sounding tired and broken... and the smell of fear starts disappearing, only leaving a faint touch under a racing hearbeat. Because he's still a loyal fool. Because even if he wants to throw something at the witcher's head and tell him to fuck off, he knows he's safe from Nilfgaard now.
no subject
He should've listened. But nooo, he gets cocky, lets the way Geralt allows him into his stories and his scars, shares his food and his rooms and protects him from angry husbands get to his head, feed his ego. Obviously Geralt cares about him, right? He's just an actions-rather-than-words kind of guy. Life has been rough for him, he doesn't know how to communicate. So many excuses has Jaskier made for Geralt's behavior through the years, thinking of himself to be so smart for figuring out what he calls Geralt-speech.
He should've listened.
If like could give me one blessing...
The words play on repeat in his head over and over as he makes his way down the mountain - tired, dirty, alone. Hurting. "See you around, Geralt" had been an answer spoken from shock, but with every step he takes with heavy feet, pain and anger build in his chest until they finally explode. Two decades, the best years of his short human life, his best songs... all wasted on this son of a bitch.
He really should've listened, he thinks again when he stops by a river to wash his face, not wanting to reach town with his eyes red from tears spilled over the biggest asshole in the world. He truly is a fool.
(He gets drunk that evening, and sings and dances for the local tavern until his feet and throat are sore. Drinking songs, naughty songs, adventure songs. But not a single song about the White Wolf.)
Oxenfurt seems to be the most logical step, so he stays there for a while, trying to put himself back together. He finishes "Her Sweet Kiss", adding to it a new bitter twist that didn't have before ("gorgeous garroter"? "lovely garroter"? how about neither). Half of the dinner hall cries when they hear him sing it for the first time. And it's the only song about Geralt he sings when he goes back to the road.
There's war coming, people need bards to help them forget. Oxenfurt may be home (in a way Lettenhove never was and never will) but Jaskier is still Jaskier, and he grows restless easily. He needs adventure, he needs his freedom. So back to the road he goes, jumping from inns to taverns, from courts banquets to weddings, singing for both pleasure and coin. People keep asking for the songs of the White Wolf, he deflects the best way he can - it's hard to escape his reputation.
The three soldiers that kidnap him from his room definitely don't let him forget.
They don't believe him when he says he doesn't have any idea about Geralt's whereabouts. They ask him about princess Cirilla as well, because they know he's played in court before. Bloody hell, if their information gathering is so good, how come they don't know Jaskier hasn't seen that asshole of a witcher in over a year? If they've been tracking him, surely they would've noticed the lack of very specific songs?
Jaskier tells them that after the first day. Obviously being afraid and obeying doesn't change anything, so if he's going to get hurt anyway, then at least he wants to use his tongue as it deserves. They think the whole separation deal is an act - Jaskier snorts.
If only.
They hit him and whip him, they keep him chained and only feed him some water and bread in the morning that he gets to throw up later when feet connect with his stomach. They don't ask about Geralt's location any longer, changing the tactic to wanting to know the witcher's secrets and weaknesses. Those Jaskier does know. He still doesn't tell. He tells himself it's because he doesn't want Nilfgaard to win.
The truth is, even now, he's still a loyal fool.
They leave guards outside. A waste of soldiers, because nobody is coming for him. Geralt isn't coming for him, but this part he keeps for himself - the guards possibly shitting themselves at the chance the White Wolf may come for them is the only little pleasure he can get from this situation.
It seems there's some commotion outside tonight, but he isn't paying attention. Jaskier stays in the corner of the cell, face and clothes covered in blood, pants reeking of piss, hugging his legs and waiting for sleep to come - if it comes at all. When the door opens, he whimpers in fear and tries to make himself smaller.
Jaskier has never been afraid of Geralt. For him, all the time. Of him? Never. Yet he reeks of it now. And when blue eyes finally look up and see who it is, they widen, filled with shock. Part of him thinks he must be dreaming.
"...Geralt?"
The voice is barely a murmur, sounding tired and broken... and the smell of fear starts disappearing, only leaving a faint touch under a racing hearbeat. Because he's still a loyal fool. Because even if he wants to throw something at the witcher's head and tell him to fuck off, he knows he's safe from Nilfgaard now.