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fangirleaconmigo · 2 years

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Geraskier concept (PART TWO IN THE REBLOG)

How about an AU where Julian Alfred Pankratz’s family is a scary, violent family…like evil necromancers who work for imperialists and do their dirty work. Magical mobsters. Something like that.

And when Julian is ‘brought into the family business’ as a teen, he is taken on an errand and witnesses a murder. He is so traumatized by it. He vomits. He rages.

He isn’t a hero or anything but he does have a conscience and harming others and violence sickens him.

He wants to run away but his father is too powerful. He would never be able to get far enough. So he asks his father to let him go. To release him from his family obligations.

His father is like absolutely not. You’re young. Once you get a little experience, you’ll realize that killing is necessary. All of this idealism and self righteousness is just naïveté and childishness. So just stay. You’ll get used to it.

Julian is like no I will never be alright with killing people.

They fight like demons about it and Julian’s father tells him he will let him go under one condition. That he consents to having a spell put on him. “The day you kill someone, everything will go black and you will wake up here, under an obligation to work for me.”

They are both so sure of themselves.

Julian agrees to it almost before his father is even done explaining himself. He has nothing to lose. “I’ll never do it,” he vows.

Julian’s father is so sure his son will eventually become like him. Will follow in his footsteps. So he casts the spell and Julian agrees to change his name to sever their connection. He calls himself Jaskier and he takes off.

Freedom is exhilarating. Jaskier drinks and sings and fucks and meets new people and sees the world. Most importantly he gets to be himself.

Of course his father keeps tabs on him and occasionally sends a messenger to ask if he’s tired of being a brat. He tries to get him to come back. But the answer is always no.

Then Jaskier meets Geralt. At first it’s just admiration and of course (of course) lust, like everything else. But it quickly transforms into something else. They spend nights talking by campfires, drinking together, talking shit, making fun of aldermen who are afraid of Geralt or who don’t want to pay him. They fit together in a way Jaskier has never experienced.

And Geralt is magnificent. Geralt protects him and pulls him out of danger and saves his life time and time again. Jaskier falls in love with his entire heart and soul. He thinks it is one sided. So he decides to never confess it. But oh he loves him. He harbors it in his heart.

But he cannot bring himself to tell him about his family. Mostly, he is ashamed, though he isn’t sure if it is of his father or himself.

Then one day, Geralt is set upon by superstitious villagers being egged on by a mage who wants Geralt run out of town. Geralt, strong as he is, can be overwhelmed by magic plus being outnumbered.

Jaskier is in a tavern performing, but he finishes and comes upon the scene just as Geralt has fallen. He realizes with soul deep panic that Geralt could die if he doesn’t help him. The only way to do so is to silence the mage who hasn’t yet seen Jaskier.

When Jaskier picks up the knife he knows he will likely never see Geralt again. He knows it will mean a life of soul destroying evil. Of conformity. Of captivity. Of being under his father’s thumb again.

But they are bearing down on Geralt and no one else can help him. Geralt who has saved his life more times than he can count.

And what is love if not willingness to sacrifice?

So he steps out of the shadows and buries the knife in the mages neck. By the time he pulls it out, he turns to mist and the knife clatters to the ground.

With the mage dead, Geralt easily overwhelms the villagers and frees himself. He didn’t see who killed the mage but there’s no time to figure it out. he goes to find Jaskier so they can get out of town.

But Jaskier is gone. Geralt cannot find him anywhere. He tortures himself with thoughts about why Jaskier abandoned him. Did he sense that Geralt had fallen in love with him and so abandoned him? Did he grow tired of dealing with the prejudice that dogs Geralt? Did he see the mob and say…no more?

And who stabbed the mage? Certainly not Jaskier. Not his Jaskier who vomits at the sight of blood.

But Geralt cannot in his heart of hearts believe, truly believe that Jaskier would leave without a word. Would he? He thinks he can accept it and forget about him. But he can’t. It haunts him. So he decides he needs answers. He wants jaskier to explain himself.

If only he could find him and ask. He could put his heart at ease. But he realizes with horror that he has never actually asked Jaskier about his family or his life. What kind of friend has he been? And how will he find him?

Then he remembers something.

One night at a performance, someone called Jaskier some other name. Jaskier hustled them away, and Geralt doesn’t remember the whole thing.

The only word he remembers is Lettenhove.

He will go there. He will get his answers.

#the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #Jaskier’s murder family

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spielzeugkaiser · 3 years

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Just a quick update; I’ll start to work again tomorrow, so everything is gonna slow down a bit (that was a lot of content in the last few weeks; no way I could stay with that pace). I still have a lot of WIPs (there will be a part 3 for prophetic!jaskier (maybe even a part 4...), more fem!jaskier, and I think one or two bear!jaskier doodles? Also there are some undercover-at-lettenhove things that are finished and that I never uploaded; same as some baby!ciri doodles. And yes! Also a small happy end for the atonement au*) *remember how I said there in the tags that I would never kill Jaskier? Good times. Some of the postcards are already on the way, but I need to get some different paper for the rest before I can continue - but then they’re on their way :)

#I'm always doing at least 4 things simultanously #which is why everthing is so #cluttered #one day necromancer!jaskier will come back from the #war too #If you have prompts I usually take them #but especially bear!jaskier would be fine I think #and oh I forgot wolf!geralt!!#that's gonna happen one day too #...#jep #I'm a mess #look at my attention span #this is why I could NEVER write fanfiction I don't understand how you can all do that #also thank you!#that were some very entertaining weeks with you all!! <3 #Thank you all for the lovely asks and replys and prompts!

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artistsfuneral · 3 years

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Inktober Prompt Four - Kiss

prompt by @ouiouilegay

modern au, getting eady for a date, Jaskier Priscilla, necromancer!Jaskier, short

„Daddy's home!“ Priscilla yelled obnoxiously loud as she threw the front door open and marched into Jaskier's apartment as if she lived there herself. Cursing like a sailor from the first war, Jaskier stumbled into his living room, eyeliner in hand as black tears rolled down his cheeks. “What the fuck, Lilly?! I stabbed myself!” Priscilla stared at him, her eyes following the eyeliner stained tears. “Seriously, Jaskier, Goth is not a good look on you.” The necromancer let out a loud groan and let his head fall back in a dramatic motion. “You don't say.”

She grinned and put down her arrangement of tote bags. “You should be a bit nicer to me, Jules. After all I came all the way to your apartment just for a 'fashion emergency'. You have Pintagram, it's not like you couldn't just look it up.”

Jaskier let out a tired sigh and flopped onto his couch, one foot draped over the backrest the other one on the floor. “I know, but, Lilly,” he whined out her name, “it's our third date and he's taking me to a pumpkin patch. A pumpkin patch, that man is absolutely adorable!”

Behind him, his best friend cooed. Jaskier smiled. “I know, right? I need to look fucking fabulous, without being overdressed for the occasion. Gods above, it's impossible. If he doesn't kiss me tonight, I might grow mad.”

“Wow, wait, hold on,” Priscilla grabbed him by the ankle and turned his body so he faced her, green eyes huge with disbelieve. “This is your third date and you haven't kissed yet?” Jaskier pushed his lower lip forward and nodded with a pout. “Sweet Melitele, it actually is an emergency. You're lucky, I brought exactly the right thing with me.” She turned around to ruffle through one of the tote bags. In a more serious tone, she added, “I'm actually surprised, you're usually way more straightforward when it comes to your dates.”

Jaskier hummed. He usually was, but it had been Geralt's request to take things slow. Ever since they've met that one evening on the train, Jaskier had found himself absolutely mesmerized by the witcher. It had started, quite obviously, with the huge amount of ghost horses that happily trailed after Geralt that day. Jaskier's blurted out sentence had caused a rather ridiculous conversation and before he knew it they were sitting in a little 24/7 coffee shop talking about... everything, really. Jaskier was absolutely enthralled with Geralt. He couldn't pinpoint it to one specific thing that he liked about the other man, rather it was an overwhelming amount of aspects that just clicked together.

Geralt was, by all means, absolutely gorgeous. While he was splattered with dirt and blood throughout their first conversation, he proved to be even prettier after a shower. (He had been late to their second date. After working late and falling asleep on the couch, Geralt had arrived with his hair still damp as he hastily put it in a bun, flashing Jaskier his stomach as his shirt hiked up.)

But it was a lot more than that. To his absolute delight, the necromancer had realized quickly that Geralt was shy. The stoic expression on his face was a well trained way of hiding it, but the way his golden eyes darted away when Jaskier complimented him, the way the tips of is ears turned red and how he kept pushing back loose strands of his hair, was telling enough. Jaskier found it endearing.

And as if that wasn't enough, he was also incredibly smart without being an as about it.

Jaskier smiled to himself, wiping the eyeliner tears from his cheek absentmindedly. “Priscilla, he's absolutely worth it,” he admitted softly and grinned up to her. She met his gaze with a look in her eyes that was very similar to the one his sisters had whenever they talked about love and relationships. The look suited her.

“Seems like you'll need this one,” she grinned as she held up a sunflower sweater. Jaskier gasped and immediately made grabby hands. “Oh Lilly, it's absolutely perfect!” She winked at him, flicking back her blond hair with a swift movement. “I know. Now go and put that on and those long cargo pants you have, I'll go grab your boots, then we will fix your teenage-anxt of a face.”

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tag list: @ravenclaw-dirt @whitetyger123 @amethystpagan @raiwalk @endrega23 @etcorsolus @halfbloodprincez @supermutantprince @kuripon @hailhailsatan @tsukuyomi-selene @kuripon @selectivegeekwithstandards

#part two of the necromancer au #the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #witcher #necromancer!jaskier #modern au

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innocentbi-stander · 4 years

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About necromancer Jaskier - what other necromancers use their powers for: evil minions, power, endless tortures and follow up revivals for more torture. What the Bard uses it for: forever fresh looking flower crowns, skeleton maids for mundane tasks like swiping the floor or packing the camp, reviving butterflies and other tiny animals he accidentaly crushed, reviving a dead tree and making it sprout new leaves so he has a nice shade to sit in and play his lute.

This has been sitting in my inbox for a little bit, apologies for the late response, I’ve been super busy this past week!

One of the reasons Geralt is so confused by jaskier being a necromancer is because he’s met other necromancers before, and they’re a bunch of angsty dark edge lords who more often than not are drunk on power

and then he meets jaskier- jaskier who couldn’t care less about his ability to storm kingdoms with undead armies, influence others to his will, or torture

geralt is baffled by how jaskier has somehow managed to turn his necromancing abilities into something good and pure

he possesses this often terrifying and dark power and instead uses it to make the flowers he weaves into roach’s mane last for weeks without wilting

geralt watches with wonder as the bard kneels down in forests next to the tiny bodies of fallen baby birds and breathes life into them once more and returns them to their mother’s nests

the one time he stepped on a butterfly and didn’t even hesitate to send it flying through the flowers once more

when they came across a stretch of land burned by raiders and jaskier plucked a cheery melody from his lute and the trees regrew before their eyes, providing a shady spot to camp for the day

he summons the undead from the earth like every other necromancer but its usually by accident- an indicator of exactly how powerful he is when just a simple wish for a task to be done sends skeletons scrambling from the soil to come to his assistance

this is perhaps the thing geralt is more surprised by, he’s seen other necromancers treat the undead they summon like dirt, like disposable servants meant to use and toss away as they please

jaskier treats the skeletons like old friends, he weaves them flower crowns of daisies, he rubs away the dirt smeared on their bones, he speaks to them kindly and thanks them graciously when they pack up camp, or whatever task jaskier has accidentally brought them forth to complete. he sends them back to rest with a kiss on their temple

jaskier is nothing like any other person geralt has ever met, and he thanks the gods he doesn’t even believe in that the bard is his

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Hope you enjoyed! I love getting prompts, feel free to send me more!

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 (for you're such a lovely person who shares so many beautiful fics with us and is always up for talking. ily

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on this ask because I just love seeing you in my inbox. But, like with everything, I need to stop hoarding and write a little thank you <3

Something wasn’t quite squaring up with Nilfgaard’s army. It spread at an alarming rate, much faster than a regular army could. Whatever sorcery the mages and sorceresses have concocted, it was terrifying. Such an army shouldn’t have been able to sustain itself, it needed food, water, resources to travel. Yet, despite all this, the army seemed to move silently, without the usual almost locust like destruction and draining of everything in their path. Nobody seemed to be able to pinpoint where the army was when it wasn’t fighting, only small scouting groups. People learned to be wary of those groups too. Wherever they went, the army was never seemingly far behind, backing them up at a moment’s notice. It was a mystery that was yet to be solved.

Finding a Nilfgaardian on the run was quite unusual. Eskel didn’t think it was something he’d live to see. They were usually so cocksure, travelling in their little groups. He had learned to spot them, even if they weren’t trying to make a scene. One leader, with five protectors. Those five tended to be on full alert and guarding their leader which was a bit odd, but then again, Nilfgaard as a whole was a bit peculiar.

The man Eskel spotted was obviously from the South, he heard him order, the accent harsh yet lilting at the same time. Watching him find the darkest corner - the one Eskel had wanted for himself - curiosity was winning out. Only a desperate man would share a space with a Witcher and this man, though he shrank away, steadfastly refused to move from the shadows of the corner.

“Got separated from your group?” Eskel liked to make small talk if he could. Especially when it helped solve a curiosity like the man opposite him.

“Something like that.”

Evasive, huddled and not looking Eskel in the eyes. The plot thickened. “So you ran away.” While the man didn’t seemingly react, Eskel could hear his heartrate pick up. “Why?”

Silence stretched. The man finished his food in a great hurry and was up, evidently not wanting any kind of company. Oddly, Eskel didn’t think it had anything to do with him being a Witcher.

The next morning the man was nowhere to be seen. But Eskel caught his scent and, with nothing better to do, he set off at a leisurely pace in the same direction. If they bumped into each other he could always claim it was a funny twist of Fate. He shouldn’t have joked about it, not even in his own head because, not a few miles out of the village, he found the evidence of a scuffle. The whole stretch of road had a tang of death to it which he couldn’t place. However, he soon forgot about it because he could smell blood and hear the pained, laboured breaths of someone. Rounding the small clump of bushes, Eskel tutted. “Run into trouble?”

“No.”

The blatant lie drew a laugh from Eskel. He had to admit, he was intrigued. Grabbing his pack, he approached the man, showing him his hands in an attempt to reassure that he meant no harm. In fact, he was offering a helping hand.

“Did they get what they wanted?” The question tripped from Eskel’s lips as he lifted the man’s gambeson away to reveal a cut to his side. It wasn’t deep but it was in the crease of soft flesh that tended to sting like a bitch, Eskel knew that from experience. His only reply was a shake of the head. “Good. You sent them packing by the looks of it. I’m impressed. My name’s Eskel by the way.”

Still no reply and the man tipped his head back, staring at the sky with gritted teeth while Eskel saw to his wound.

“Well, you’re in no state to travel alone. You headed anywhere in particular?” Another head shake but this time the man watched him with guarded eyes. “Okay. Why don’t we travel together for a bit. I can help keep you safe.”

“I can’t pay you for your services.” Clipped words that sounded tired. "And you probably shouldn't be around me."

It was cute, how the man seemed so determined to drive Eskel away without being cruel. Most refreshing. "I don't need your payment. As I'm not headed anywhere in particular, I figured we could both use a bit of company."

That settled the matter and, for three days they travelled in companionable silence, sticking to villages and heading north. It was only in a larger village that Eskel learned the man's name and not because they were getting more friendly either. The poster bore quite a good likeness to Cahir.

"So-" Eskel said as they camped outside the village, "-want to tell me why Nilfgaard thinks you're dangerous enough to not be approached but your sighting should be reported swiftly and discreetly?"

Cahir let out a world weary sigh, shoulders drooping. "I control a large portion of their army. They want me back for that."

Which was interesting. In Eskel's experience no general tended to command such loyalty. He was also a sucker for those in need. Plus, the chance to fuck Nilfgaard over was quite glorious. He smirked. "Want to come to Kaer Morhen to hide out for the winter?"

It was a bit of a trek north still but Cahir began to relax around Eskel. They shared their first kiss at the foot of the trail up to Kaer Morhen. A few more were traded along the way but, for the most part, they huddled for warmth, cuddled up for the cold nights.

Slowly the keep filled up with its regular winter visitors, all of them somewhat hesitant to greet Cahir until Eskel intervened with a pointed glare from behind him. Everyone settled in, Geralt turned up with Jaskier, Lambert and Aiden did their usual thing, even Coen managed to slip through the gates before the snow hit. Soon, they were all enjoying the roaring fires, drink and songs. Despite his army background, Cahir turned down all invitations to train and share knowledge. It didn't make him very popular but his cooking helped ease any grumblings.

It was all going well until a portal opened up and Yennefer stepped through. midway through greeting everyone she froze and turned to the door as Cahir stepped in.

"What are you?" she hissed, hand curling to cradle an unleashed spell.

"Nilfgaard's finest deserter."

That didn't seem to help ease Yennefer and she looked over Cahir with a critical eye. "I can see Fringilla's work in there with several others'. You volunteer for this?"

"Only as much as someone volunteers to be a Witcher."

"Just what is going on?" Vesemir rumbled. He had a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to jump in. That had Cahir taking a step back, a pained expression.

"I wouldn't advise you hurt me. You have an awful lot of dead buried here."

The growl from Vesemir wasn't reassuring. "Don't threaten me in my own home, boy."

"Vesemir!" The warning came from Yennefer of all people. "Don't."

Something was crackling in their air, Eskel could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was magic but not any kind he had felt before. Even worse, he could trace the source back to Cahir whose eyes were turning black slowly.

"I'm going to go outside. Please nobody follow." Stiffly, Cahir turned and marched out of the keep, into the snow covered woods. Silence reigned in his wake.

"The fuck?" Lambert spat, looking angry in his bewilderment.

As one, they all turned to Yennefer for an explanation. None of them had felt even a hint of magic from Cahir until that moment.

"That-" Yennefer pointed to where Cahir had been, "-is an unnatural necromancer. No innate ability but, with the right stimuli, can raise the dead between here and the bottom of the mountain."

The silence stretched until Jaskier cursed. "Now we know how Nilfgaard's army is sustained."

As big as the revelation was, Eskel had a bigger concern. That was his boyfriend who had just walked out, looking ready to be consumed by his unnatural powers. Stepping out of the keep, Eskel had to whistle. The whole area between the keep and the woods was covered in flowers, a carpet of green dotted with blossoms of colour. In the middle of it all was Cahir, kneeling, eyes closed and head tipped towards his chest. His breathing was forcedly even and deep.

"Go away," Cahir gritted out.

"It's just me."

Looking up, Cahir's eyes were black and bottomless, his breath hitched as a tear trickled down his cheek. "I didn't mean to. I promise. They're everywhere."

Eskel could hear the footsteps, shuffling and shambling. Not all of them human, one alarmingly large.

"Old Speartip," Eskel growled. From the forest around them an army of the undead approached. All the bodies they didn't have the means to burn after the sacking, Old Speartip from his cave, forktails they'd left dotted around the mountain, they were all approaching Kaer Morhen. Along with them came the smell Eskel had scented on the road where bandits had accosted Cahir, now he knew what happened back then.

Cahir let out a shuddering breath, hands curled into a fist. "Threats of violence and pain make them come."

"And when you feel safe, do they go away?"

A miserable nod was his answer and Eskel dropped to his knees. He gathered Cahir against his chest and kissed his softly, demanding all his boyfriend's focus to be on him. The noise of the undead around them stopped, under his knees Eskel could feel the grass wilting back to its winter state. Pulling away, he was pleased to see the blue of Cahir's eyes.

"I'll always keep you safe," he rumbled. A darker thought crossed his mind. "The groups of six scouts for Nilfgaard, they weren't scouts at all, were they?"

From the doorway, Eskel could hear the others shuffling around and peering out at them. But his attention was on Cahir and Cahir alone.

"A necromancer and their guards who're also their tormentors." Cahir sniffled. "There's a reason I've not joined you in the waterfalls. To raise an army, they did unspeakable things."

Eskel pulled Cahir tightly to his chest, wishing he could make everything better. Alas, there wasn't much to be done other than what he'd already been doing; supporting and loving to the best of his abilities.

"We now know better," he tried to reassure. "How would you feel if, in the spring, we continued to travel together? We can take any road you feel comfortable on."

Looking up at Eskel with wide, wet eyes, Cahir licked his lips. "I can't pay you for your services," he said, repeating his words from all those months ago. "But how would you feel about fucking Nilfgaard over? We could rescue a few more necromancers."

It was a daring plan but one that Eskel was intrigued by. So were the others when, over dinner, Cahir haltingly told them everything. The Path was unpredictable at the best of times, the coming year it was going to get even more convoluted.

#eskhir #eskel/cahir #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #the witcher #tldr: nilfgaard creates necromancers to raise armies

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gods-no-longer-tread-here · 3 years

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eater

cw: major character death, undead character, mild body horror

Idk I just wanted to write a sad thing. So. Here’s a snippet about the last day.

The eater hesitated at the edge of the clearing.

His Hunting-Man stood in the middle of the clearing, wrists joined by something shiny. He looked, and smelled, furious--and also a little frightened. Humans had hurt him. The eater’s Hunting-Man was strong, but he was not godlike. He could fall.

“Jaskier,” Hunting-Man said evenly, staring straight ahead, “Can you come here, please?”

The eater’s lips pulled back in a snarl. His Hunting-Man never asked him to come closer. He was coerced, then; it was a trap. The eater’s blood boiled as he searched the shadows for whoever was ordering his Hunting-Man around. His mouth began to water, and his stomach growled. He would kill these humans, yes; he would kill them and eat their hearts, and disappear before his Hunting-Man could see him. The eater was good at that.

“Jaskier.”

His Hunting-Man would look angry to anyone who did not know him as the eater did. He was not angry. He was terrified.

The eater flexed his fingers and rocked on his feet, unable to decide. He wanted to protect his Hunting-Man. He had to protect his Hunting-Man. That was the only thing he knew for certain, in his life as an eater; he had to protect his Hunting-Man.

Hunting-Man whispered, “Please.”

The eater tipped forward onto his knuckles and crawled out from behind the thick bush that had hidden him so well. Hearing his Hunting-Man speak in fear was too much for him. Carefully, the eater rose to his toes and scurried a little closer. Eaters were supposed to hide, and skulk, and steal; he felt exposed and small, stepping out into the faint brush of evening sun.

His Hunting-Man looked right at him. Yellow eyes met blue, and the eater saw the pain and grief in his Hunting-Man’s face. They had agreed silently that Hunting-Man would not look upon the eater, ever; so to be pinned beneath his Hunting-Man’s grieving gaze was a horrid experience.

“Jaskier. It’s alright. No one’s going to hurt you.” His Hunting-Man smelled of agony and despair and guilt. This would not do.

“No,” the eater said, his voice barely audible. “No sad. No sad, Geralt.” He straightened up again, then continued until he stood like a Man. His balance was bad and his legs were in pain, but he still stumbled forward, intent on his Hunting-Man’s face. “Don’t be sad.” His hands--his scarred, filthy, rough-skinned hands--reached out, and the eater began to pet his Hunting-Man’s cheeks and nose. “I help. I help you. Please don’t--”

Something sharp plunged into the eater’s side. It was silver. The eater opened his mouth to scream, but instead he heard himself say, “Don’t be sad. I kill bad things, yes? I kill them for you--” His legs gave out, the pain swamping his mind. His Hunting-Man dropped to his knees and looped his joined hands over the eater.

“Don’t talk,” his Hunting man hushed him. There was only love and grief on his face, now. “You’re alright, Jaskier. Just… don’t talk.” Something like a tear slid down his cheek. “Go to sleep, my heart.”

“I protect you.” The world was going dark, and the eater was very cold.

“I know. You protect me so well. Go to sleep, Jaskier. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

The eater nodded sluggishly and closed his eyes.

Geralt cradled Jaskier to him as the last dregs of poisonous blood dripped from his wound to the earth. He hadn’t wanted to see his bard like this--but now he couldn’t look away. The death-pale face and rotting eye, the yawning wounds, and the stench of putrefaction nearly overwhelmed Geralt. This wasn’t his bard. His Jaskier, who he had last seen convulsing on a necromancer’s table.

He could still picture the wide grin, the sparking blue eyes, the faintly-tanned skin. This undead carcass wasn’t Jaskier. And yet, it was all Geralt had left.

“It was necessary,” Ciri said, approaching slowly with her spent crossbow. She smelled like shame and self-loathing. “You know ghouls are…”

“I know,” Geralt whispered, wishing he could kiss Jaskier one last time. “I know.”

#Geraskier #The Witcher #Geralt #Jaskier #Ciri #geraskier fic

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Jaskier: Necromancer of Emotions

Witchers didn’t have emotions. That was just a common fact. They came, they killed and demanded payment. Rumour had it, they even fucked perfunctorily, devoid of any emotions and going through the motions just the same as any other bodily function.

Enter Jaskier.

His welcome to Kaer Morhen wasn’t exactly a warm one. A few grunts, a nod from Eskel but there wasn’t the excited gathering around a new person. Not everyone was born an extrovert, it was okay. After all, Jaskier could adopt them all then and wouldn’t have to fight someone else for his wolves.

The days that followed were silent save for the clashing of blades and the grunts of exertion as the witchers trained. There was definitely sounds of frustration there and the odd chuff of what Jaskier could almost call laughter. But for the most part, it was more stoic in Kaer Morhen than the nunnery Jaskier had once infiltrated. He wondered whether he could get the same ending - squawking and shrieking when the nuns realised he was in disguise. The image of four witchers flapping their hands and squealing was something that had Jaskier snicker to himself. It seemed Operation Giggles was a go.

Perhaps Operation Giggles was an ambitious project and should have been called Operation Smile or Operation Emotion. Actually, that was much better, the rhyme made Jaskier grin to himself.

He started off small. If it was his turn in the kitchen, he tried to make sure he always had things on the side so when a hungry wolf just so happened to amble past, there was something tasty for them to snag. All absolutely coincidental. Obviously.

The songs Jaskier played were more difficult to gauge. Anything rowdy and crude seemed to have Lambert’s attention even if he only glared while softer ballads often caused Eskel to stare off into the fire with a sad look. Which wasn’t quite the emotions Jaskier was angling for. However, the positive ones seemed more elusive. Almost like they were buried so deep in witcher psyche, they might as well be dead. Which got Jaskier thinking. If the only feelings his wolves knew were annoyance, anger and disappointment, maybe it was the way to deeper buried emotions. So Jaskier got to work.

Composing a song that started off as something attention catching to the point of annoying was quite easy. A merry ditty that could be whistled. The depth of the craft came from leading it into something more melancholy, anger melting into despair, hopelessness and desolation. To pull it from there into something hopeful and up into a cheery jingle again was pure genius, even if Jaskier said so himself. It took him a good week of solid work before he could debut it. At first, it went ignored but the circular nature of his song meant that he could just keep cycling through it without break. He got to watch the witchers get annoyed by it as expected. They followed it down the path into something sedate and contemplative. It almost hurt Jaskier to watch them get lost in the song like that but to offer them a metaphorical hand and boost them up was worth it. One by one, the witchers seemed to climb out of the pit of emotions into something more uplifting.

It wasn’t an obvious, sudden change but Jaskier persisted. Each time he sang the song, each cycle, it seemed to ease something in the witchers. There were small changes to start with. A small flicker of a smile over food. A press of shoulders together where they sat, nudging in playful reassurance but so small it was almost invisible.

The scream of “Lambert, you prick!” one morning was startling, even more so the fact that it was followed up by a harsh bark of a laugh that was cut off as quick as it started. It was the beginning though. Only a week later, Lambert was buttering bread for breakfast when, without looking up, he asked. “does anyone know how to make a whore moan?”

Geralt’s gruff “don’t pay her” earned another gruff snort and Eskel smiled into his drink.

“That works, that works,” Lambert nodded sagely. “I was going to say you wipe your dick on the curtain.”

“That is poor etiquette, son,” Vesemir scolded but Jaskier was certain he could see a thawing around the corners of his firmly set lips.

In a way, Geralt was the easiest to mine for emotions. Jaskier already knew he could get him loose limbed and content so happy was only a couple of steps up from that. The trick was to have him let go. In Kaer Morhen, without the pressure of surviving the Path and surrounded by family, it was probably the easiest opportunity Jaskier would ever have. They were still flushed, catching their breaths and messy when Jaskier pressed closer.

“Are you happy, my darling?” he asked, innocence dripping from his tongue. The grunt he got in return was not the most encouraging but it was better than he’d dared hope for. “What would make your little heart burst with joy?”

It was an evil ploy, getting Geralt to talk at his weakest but Jaskier never claimed to be a good man.

“If the others were happy too. They used to smile and laugh.”

In words, it was so simple. Yet in practice it was so much more complex. All Jaskier could do was promise to help. It seemed though, that the groundwork he’d laid had been worth it because Lambert seemed to be coming on leaps and bounds. He was still caustic and crude but his humour was less of an armour and more because he genuinely enjoyed a bad joke. Sure, his sense of humour could do with a little (a lot) of refining but Jaskier didn’t mind. Even Vesemir seemed to soften and thaw out like a glacier.

The biggest challenge was Eskel. Each time Jaskier felt that he was getting somewhere, it seemed to slip back into oblivion. The hint of a smile on Eskel was immediately hidden, his face dipped and turned away. A hiccough of a laugh was silenced and swallowed down harshly. Nothing Jaskier did seemed to break the control Eskel clung to. It was something he bemoaned to Geralt on a regular basis, only to be grunted and hummed at in return.

There was no way Jaskier could have predicted that he would find assistance on is crusade. Breakfast was finishing up, Vesemir chewing on the end of a sausage thoughtfully when he was given a questioning glance by Lambert and Geralt. At his nod, the two of them stood up and stood at each side of Eskel, staring impassively down at him.

Worried, Eskel looked up. “What?”

“You have a weakness,” Geralt intoned seriously.

“You’re ticklish,” Lambert added and stepped closer, one hand easily jabbing into Eskel’s side.

The change was instantaneous. The usually stoic, solid presence that Eskel projected was shattered as he squirmed away from the tickling fingers. Unfortunately for him, on his other side Geralt stood in wait and got his other side. With a squeal, Eskel slithered under the table and made a break for it. He burst from under it next to Jaskier and dashed from the room. Lambert and Geralt let out a loud whoop and stepped over the table in pursuit.

“Well. That happened.” Jaskier said and looked over to Vesemir who sent him a small, warm smile.

“Thanks to you.” A shrieking laughter and a yowl of “meep” from Eskel went up as he was probably caught. It sounded like a donkey with hiccoughs but it was unmistakably laughter. “It has been decades since laughter was heard in these old halls. I thought the sound had died with their hopes.”

Somewhere in the castle there was a yell of “for fuck’s sake Lambert!” and a fresh volley of laughter. No doubt the game had changed and Lambert was the target after whatever he had done. Or at least it was probably the case until a loud and long “no” from Geralt echoed through the halls. A minute later he was tearing through the dining hall, the other two hot on he heels, laughing. For reasons unknown, Lambert was in a frilly bonnet while Eskel sported a curtain like a cape.

“Children,” Vesemir sighed, sounding all too happy. “They never did grow up, did they?”

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #lambert #eskel #vesemir #witcher wolf pack #tldr: jaskier helps the witchers feel happy again

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innocentbi-stander · 4 years

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I just saw one of your necromancer jaskier posts (which was absolutely amazing I might add) and it got me thinking... What were lambert, eskel, and vessimir's reactions to the whole necromancer thingy? and also have a wonderful day/night/afternoon 😁

Thanks for the ask! I’m glad you’ve enjoyed my necromancer jaskier content, it’s def one of my favorite to write!

Hmmmmm lambert, eskel, and vesemir’s reactions to geralt’s necromancer bard would be... interesting

when eskel, lambert, and vesemir first heard the rumors about the bard following around a wolf witcher, they were Extremely Confused

geralt is most definitely the prickliest wolf witcher out there, and no way could they imagine him letting some foppish bard traipse after him around the continent

they wondered what kind of person would choose to live their life around a witcher, especially one like geralt

when they finally met jaskier they were momentarily distracted at how happy geralt seemed

the bard was full of energy, sunshine personified and a mouth that seemed to alternate between talking nonstop and smiling like there was no tomorrow

he wore bright colors and his eyes were the bluest they’d ever seen

and around him geralt smiled more than they had ever seen

jaskier seemed to have a special talent for making geralt laugh, and they were always touching each other, whether that was knocking elbows, jabbing ribs, tackling the other person, an arm around the shoulder, or play fighting

lambert asked geralt once if he was afraid he’d hurt the human messing around with him like that and geralt hadn’t even looked up from the sword he was polishing to say “no, because jaskier isn’t human. he’s a necromancer”

lambert’s mind went blank because...... what

much like geralt before he met jaskier, the wolf witcher’s only experience with necromancers were crazy assholes drunk on power

imagining the happy go lucky bard as a powerful being with the power to command the dead is a bit of a stretch

although looking back on a few instances throughout the past few weeks it does make a lot more sense

like the time lambert could have sworn he heard jaskier’s neck snap after a particularly daring tackle by geralt

or the conversations he’d heard him having around the keep with seemingly no one

the evening jaskier had been playing his lute after dinner and his feet seemed to move without touching the ground

or the time jaskier and geralt had been arguing and little fractures had formed all across the courtyard and-

lambert was an idiot. they all were idiots. of course jaskier was a godsdamned necromancer.

eskel and lambert mostly cope with this news by insisting jaskier join them in training both to teach him to fight with actual weaponry and to serve as an exciting new opponent

lambert’s never fought against an army of skeletons before but it quickly becomes his favorite winter activity

jaskier is particularly fond of ‘aard the bard’ but they have to start doing it in secret because geralt nearly has a bloody heart attack every time he sees his bard flying up into the air

vesemir, ever the curious scholar, is absolutely delighted to pester jaskier with questions about his powers and abilities

when jaskier sheepishly admits he doesn’t actually know that much not having had any kind of mentor, vesemir is quick to throw an arm around his shoulders and declare that they’ll just have to ‘find out together then’ with a glint in his eye that jaskier quite likes

(geralt would have it put on record that he does not like this, thank you very much, jaskier has a tendency for awakening a person’s desire for chaos and the last thing he needs is him and vesemir getting up to shit)

if geralt worries about jaskier and vesemir, the jaskier and lambert team up is one he never saw coming

lambert usually does not warm up to others, but of course he has to take a shine to geralt’s bard

its truly a match made in hell, jaskier is always up for trouble and lambert has an intense desire to always be creating it

and so that winter turns into a full out ‘how many times can we fuck with geralt’ war and geralt is Not Having It One Bit

geralt spends a lot of that winter chasing lambert around to beat his ass

he never quite gets around to doing the same to jaskier and he’ll never admit it but one look at jaskier’s big blue eyes is enough to melt geralt’s heart (the big softie) and make him forgive any sins jaskier may commit

all in all, when the spring time comes geralt has decided that Operation: Introduce the Family to His Necromancer Bard Boyfriend has been a roaring success and he can’t wait for next year, even if it means he spends months being pranked mercilessly, he know’s they’ll have decades more to come

and as he looks at jaskier, practically skipping down the path ahead, lute on his back and flowers sprouting around his feet, making idle chatter with a skeleton he accidentally summoned with a particularly strong sneeze, geralt knows he wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if more content is needed, my prompts are always open!

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Thank you so much for your amazing writing!! I love all the ficlets and fics you have posted in your tumblr. Would you believe me if I say that everyday I log into tumblr to see if you have posted anything else? I have been in quarantine in my house for a month (government issued quarantine) but you always get me to smile. So thank you!! And keep on!! Ps: i love the fics in which you make jaskier interact with the rest of the wolves causing and initial panic as they are not used to affection.

I really hope quarantine has treated you well, Nonnie and things are easier wherever in the world you are! It make my little heart soar to know that my writing has brought a smile to your face. May this next little fic for you give you a little more to smile about today. I really hope you enjoy it!

As far as travelling companions went, Geralt was quite pleased with Jaskier. Minus his annoying tendency to chatter, to constantly play music and be a general pest. There wasn’t anything special about him, except for the high notes he could hit when given enough incentive. He obviously hadn’t seen enough of the world, given how constantly cheerful he was, happily bounding along after Geralt into all manner of fights. Which was downright unfortunate when Geralt ended up facing off against a leshen and miscalculated. Distantly, he could hear Jaskier’s shout and Geralt had just enough time left to feel guilty at making Jaskier witness his death and also probably be slaughtered by the leshen. But as his mind turned to the shame and indignity of such a stupid death, Geralt slipped from the land of the living.

He really didn’t expect to blink his eyes open to see Jaskier peering down at him, lute in hand.

“Ah, I was wondering when you would deign to wake up. Come on now, the day is wasting away. We have contract to claim the reward on then I want to sing in the tavern for a dinner. I have a new song I need to try.”

Geralt sat up with a groan and looked down at his stomach. His clothes had a large gash in them but underneath it, his skin was pristine, not even a scar to show some evidence of accelerate healing.

“I died,” he grunted.

“Yeah, but you got better.”

That made zero sense but Jaskier was already off, strumming his lute and humming, obviously not interested in having a conversation. It was possibly for the first time in his life.

After that incident, Geralt paid more attention and he began to see a pattern. Wherever Jaskier went, meadows blossomed, vases perked up, there was even the incident with the kitten and the crying children. After Jaskier declared that an adult ought to have a look, the kitten was running around and the children cried no more. Only, Geralt had seen enough dead things to know that the kitten had most definitely not been alive three minutes earlier.

“Are you a necromancer?” he asked without any preamble, once they had settled on their bedrolls for the night.

“No.” While the answer was the truth, Jaskier still sounded hesitant.

“But? I know you brought that kitten back to life. And me, after that incident with the leshen.”

“Okay, technically I’m not a necromancer. I’m just-” Jaskier scratched the back of his neck and looked down before mumbling, “kind of on really good terms with Death.”

Once again, it made zero sense so Geralt just stared at Jaskier. It did the trick because more words came forth.

“I sort of died and didn’t realise it, was a bit too busy composing. Well, Death heard my song and liked it. Like, really liked it. Now, I just have to play a song and ask Death and, well, you’ve seen what happens. Plus, Death likes it when I’m happy so I can work little things like flowers and the sorts without their input.”

Trust Jaskier to charm Death. Geralt was half tempted to start smacking his head against the wall because he actually should have expected it. Jaskier was too pure to be a necromancer.

“Okay,” Geralt said because there was nothing else to say really. And so, they continued along their travels. Winter saw them in Kaer Morhen with the other wolves and Geralt had all but forgotten to mention Jaskier’s otherworldly friend who helped out.

At first, it wasn’t obvious. Sure, Lambert was ecstatic that his cactus had survived, even bore a flower a few days after their arrival but that was just strange. Vesemir’s herb garden seemed to be exceptionally bountiful. The only thing that was strange was the way the witchers could sense the opening of a portal every now and then but by the time they got to it, all they could see was Jaskier, strumming at his lute and singing something bright yet mournful, occasionally downright macabre.

One by one, the witchers figured it out, or at least thought they did. Geralt had to reassure his family that Jaskier wasn’t a necromancer, they would have been able to detect the sharp burn of such magic. But proof came when, one morning, Eskel entered the great hall, face crumpled with grief, the body of a goat in his arms.

“It’s Li’l Bleater,” he said, voice shaking ever so slightly. “I don’t know what happened.”

Lambert had skidded around the corner and marched up to Eskel, pulling him into a hug as soon as the goat’s body was gently laid down. There wasn’t anything he could rally say to make it better.

“He was in his pen, safely locked in.” Eskel was trembling a little but there were no tears. “I don’t know what happened to him.”

Jaskier padded closer and suddenly Geralt knew what was going to happen. A hand darted out to stroke over Li’l Bleater’s head before Jaskier settled to pluck a few chords on his lute, starting into a slow song.

“Now is not the time for this, bard,” Lambert spat, turning to snarl at Jaskier and his insensitive ways. “This is Eskel’s- Oh fuck me.”

On the ground Li’l Bleater blinked awake and kicked to get back up onto four legs. Letting out a soft bleat, he trotted up to Eskel and butted against his leg.

It was the moment Vesemir entered the room and he frowned, looking between Eskel and his goat. “How many times have I told you, no animals in the keep. I haven’t had to tell you that since you were fifty.”

The secret was out about Jaskier though and he had to, once again, explain how he might have become buddies with Death. Nodding with a frown, Vesemir obviously had a few concerns.

“So Death only ever brings things back to life for you. Never the other way round?”

Jaskier’s eyes widened in realisation and Geralt had to snatch the lute from his grasp as a mutter of “Valdo Fucking Marx” left Jaskier’s lips.

“And who else knows about this ability you have harnessed?”

Looking at Jaskier, it was obvious there was someone else. However, he was reluctant to say who and betray their confidence. It didn’t matter though because a week later, a portal opened in the courtyard where the witchers were practising while Jaskier strummed at a new song. Of all the people, it was Yennefer who walked through it, a body slung over her shoulder.

“Again?” Jaskier asked with a sigh but he diligently played a new song for Death as payment. On the floor, Stregobor gasped to life. “Try and keep him alive for more than two weeks this time, I need time to compose songs worthy enough.”

Nodding her thanks, Yennefer gripped Stregobor and disappeared through another portal without a word. Three sets of yellow eyes turned to Geralt who looked just a little shell shocked. He was definitely going to be more careful around Yennefer after that, he did not want to end up on her wrong side.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #yennefer of vengerberg #tldr: jaskier is not a necromancer but still brings things back to life from the dead

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innocentbi-stander · 4 years

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just stumbled across your blog in my conquest to consume all feral and bamf Jaskier content within 24 hours, and i read your headcanons for necromancer Jaskier and was wondering if you had anymore, or if you had a small ficlet involving some sort of necromancer Jaskier?? (i also saw your demigod Jaskier, where he was a son of Hades, and LOVED IT) if you don't, or aren't into that trope, that's okay. i absolutely love what you've already written. god-tier writing, truly

Hi there! I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed my writing! I do have a small little ficlet that I wrote that I posted on ao3 featuring necromancer Jaskier, I’ll link it below! However I’m also never above writing more necromancer Jaskier content, so here you are:

Fic: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25272997

______________

Sometimes Jaskier cursed the day Death had made a pact with his unborn soul, tying him to the immortal life of a necromancer and all of the bizarre powers that came with it.

Today was not one of those days.

Because when you’ve been locked in a cage in the depths of some decrepit castle after being ambushed on the road with your witcher boyfriend and badass witch friend, those powers really come in handy.

The bard pulled himself up into a sitting position on the cold stone floor, taking a look at his surroundings.

He was clearly in the dungeon of a long forgotten keep, by the look of the worn stone walls and rusted bars. The room was dark, and shadows flickered in the light of the few torches along the wall.

Jaskier cursed to himself as he felt the ache of his head, where he had been knocked unconscious during the attack.

The attack. The attack on the path that he had most certainly not been alone for.

A look around the cells confirmed the location of Geralt and Yennefer, each located in their own cells across the room. Clearly their attackers had deemed them the more worthy threat, as Geralt was weighed down in chains and Yennefer sported her own pair of silver cuffs decorated in runes. Magic suppressants.

Jaskier scoffed. They hadn’t even bothered to use rope to bind his arms, too confident that the supposedly human bard would be little more than a nuisance. It was their mistake.

The pounding of his head moved into the background of his thoughts, and Jaskier became increasingly aware of a pain in his stomach. His fingers that caressed the area came away covered in blood. Shit.

Flashes of memory reminded him of the man who had run him through with his sword when one hit to the skull hadn’t stopped him from fighting back. On any other human this wound would have been fatal. For Jaskier, it meant a bothersome hole through his torso for a few days, and a very fussy witcher poking at his bandages and offering bowl and bowl of soup.

Yay necromancy powers.

The bard lazily scanned the inside of his cell, looking for anything that might aid them in their mistake. Not that he necessarily needed any assistance, but Jaskier wasn’t fond of revealing the true depths of his powers to anyone, much less some low budget crew of hired bandits. He preferred to keep his abilities known to the few, better to be underestimated than overtaken.

He spared a glance over to the corner where Geralt and Yennefer lay. Jaskier sighed, a long and bothersome sound. For such a great witcher and even mightier witch couldn’t they wake up a little bit faster? He’d prefer being able to break them out when they could walk on their own, Jaskier didn’t think he could haul either of them back to their campsite.

As if on cue a small moan sounded from the other side of the dungeon.

Jaskier glanced up to meet violet eyes blinking at him.

“Ah, Yennefer, welcome to the land of the living! Or should I say ‘land of the living, also occupied by me’?”

“Jaskier?” Yennefer’s brow furrowed, “What happened?”

“It appears as if we were attacked by bandits on the way back to the campsite, and not even clever ones at that. Hired men. Probably from that lordling Geralt and I pissed off a contract back. He seemed like the type for stupid baseless vengence.” Yennefer sat up, pulling herself to her feet to pace her cell. She jangled the cuffs on her wrists.

“Magic resistant cuffs. They must have been fairly well informed.” Jaskier laughed.

“Not well informed enough it seems. They haven’t bound me at all.” He flashed his unbound arms at her along with a smirk. A stupid mistake really, he had forgotten the blood that streaked his hands and forearms from his middle. Maybe Yen wouldn’t see.

Yennefer, clever witch that she is, noticed immediately. She crossed to the front of her cell, narrowing her eyes at him through the darkness.

“Jaskier, are you hurt?”

“......no.”

The look on Yennefer’s face had killed better men than he.

“We’ve talked about not covering up injuries to look braver. That includes you too.” Jaskier had a will as strong as a limp noodle when it came to his witcher and his witcher. So he fessed up immediately.

“One of the men may have poked me a little with his sword when they nabbed us on the road.”

“Jaskier”

“Fine, he ran me through like he was intending to make the most musically inclined shish kebob known to mankind. Happy?”

“Ecstatic. Are you still bleeding?”

Jaskier sucked in a breath as he peeled up his blood-soaked shirt. Even though he wasn’t technically dying, that didn’t mean it didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He winced at the blood running down his stomach in little rivulets.

“Yeah, it’s still bleeding a little.” Yennefer cursed.

“Fuck. We need to get out of here as soon as possible or you’re going to have to end up taking one of my blood replenishing potions again.”

Jaskier resolved to leave immediately. Those potions were fucking disgusting. Luckily, Geralt seemed to sense the urgency and chose that moment to reawaken.

“The fuck?” Geralt threw himself to his feet at the ready as quick as one wrapped in chains possibly could. Yennefer clapped her hands together, drawing his attention to her.

“Fantastic Geralt, you’re finally up. It appears we’ve been kidnapped, you’re covered in chains, I’ve got magic suppressing cuffs, and Jaskier’s been run through with another man’s steel.”

Nothing got Geralt furious quicker than hearing of harm done to his bard.

“Jaskier?” The witcher pressed himself against the bars of his cell, eyes searching to meet Jaskier’s own. He raised his arm in an awkward wave, trying not to flinch at the steadily increasing pain.

“Hello Geralt. Lovely day to get stabbed, isn’t it?” Geralt wasn’t amused.

“Are you okay?’

“I’ll be better as soon as we get the fuck out of this awful, disgusting dungeon. I feel like I’m going to catch a disease just from brushing up the wall in here. Now how about I get us the hell out of here?”

The look on Geralt and Yennefer’s faces was one of intense worry as they watched Jaskier heave himself to his feet, almost gagging at the pain that flared throughout his stomach. Geralt barely stopped himself from reaching out to assist him, realizing that he’d never be able to help through the iron bars between them.

“You don’t have to Jaskier. You’re hurt, you need the energy to heal, not drain it summoning the undead. We can find another way.” Jaskier laughed.

“Another way? You’re covered in chains and Yen’s locked off from her magic. I can get us out of here, and then take a nice long nap.”

He met Geralt and Yennefer’s eyes, waiting for each of them to nod their assent before his next actions.

The bard held out a hand in front of him, closing his eyes and letting his subconscious drag down into the earth below. He could feel his power begin to condense in his fingertips, creating a soft blue glow. His power sent a call out to the underworld, and a smile crossed his face when he felt something answer.

Jaskier opened his eyes to see a skeleton pulling itself from the earth in front of his cell. As soon as it stood in front of him, it swept into a low bow and hissed words in a language foreign to all living beings except those with a connection to Death.

Masterrrrrrrrr……..

Jaskier grinned.

“Hello there! As you can see, we’re in a little bit of a predicament, if you wouldn’t mind it would be great if you could release us?”

The skeleton spared no second thought before enacting Jaskier’s wishes, ripping open the bars of his cell like they were made of paper, and proceeding to do the same for Yen and Geralt and their bonds.

Just as the skeleton was finishing up with Geralt’s chains, a troop of bandits swarmed into the dungeon, a man dressed in red at the head.

He was no doubt the leader of the crew, and was understandably shocked to see all of his prisoners standing free.

“I hate to interrupt the part of this whole ordeal where you’ve undoubtedly come down here to tell us all about your evil plan of capturing us, who hired you, and what’s going to become of us, but I’m afraid we simply must go. Places to be, and all that. Luckily you won’t have to go explaining to the lordling who hired you why we’ve gone missing, because you’ll be a little preoccupied dealing with some of my dear friends!” Jaskier performed a lazy wave of his hand, his fingertips resuming the familiar glowing blue hue. The bandit seemed to be having trouble processing what exactly was going on.

“What-how,” he sputtered, but was interrupted by the screams of his men in the halls behind him. The clickity clack of bone on the stone floors brought a smile to Jaskier’s face, and the tears of flesh and ligaments being torn away filled the dungeon. The men spun around, attention taken by the new imminent threat, swords raising in shaking hands. Too easy.

Jaskier felt a hand tug on his shoulder, and was pulled through a door into a forgotten corridor after Yen and Geralt. They traipsed down hallway after hallway, collecting Jaskier’s lute and Geralt’s confiscated swords.

After a few minutes Jaskier’s steps became less steady, and his knees began to feel more like jelly. The third time the bard had to grab the wall for support Geralt lifted him into his arms seamlessly, making sure he was comfortable before ambling on.

It wasn’t long until they reached sunlight, but by then the world had already begun to go hazy for Jaskier. He had used up too much of his energy summoning the undead and he had lost too much blood.

Jaskier allowed the gentle rocking of Geralt’s pace to lull him to sleep, his eyelids drifting shut against the midday sun. He knew that when he woke he would be safe and the campsite, protected in his lover’s arms and soon to be met with his overbearing fussing. There would be a warm bowl of stew, a roaring fire, and plenty of blankets. There would be laughter as Yennefer told the tale of the most recent fool who had dared to cross her, and Geralt would bury his face in Jaskier’s hair to disguise his amused smile. It would be home.

Jaskier closed his eyes, and allowed himself to dream.

___________

Hope you enjoyed! Feel free to send more prompts!

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