Chapter Text
Icy water brought him back to awareness, like a slap from mother nature herself. Sputtering, he shook his head, attempting to curl in on himself before hissing in pain. Right, his ribs.
"Hello again, little songbird."
Jaskier brought his eyes upward, struggling to keep his breathing even. Even then, the coughing only increased once he was awake. He'd glared at the guard in front of him, with every inch of his soul he tried his best to burn through his skull what he'd hoped was something intimidating. The guard still smiled, so probably not. Jaskier sighed tiredly, letting his head fall again. "Can't you assholes let me sleep for another hour?" A hand gripped his hair tightly, yanking his head up and to the side. He couldn't help the noise that escaped, feeling the injury above his temple cry in protest.
"You're not to sleep until we either get the information we need," The guard, his name just now forgotten from Jaskier's blurred mind, pushed his head back with a grunt. "Or capture the man we've been looking for."
Jaskier grit his teeth, willing the floor beneath his feet to finally stop swirling wherever he looked. If he had to guess, its been maybe about a day since he'd been brought here. At least that was his guess from the soreness in his shoulders, thanks to his wrists being pulled behind him by the chain. At least they'd given him the pleasure of having his legs free to stretch out in front of him. And at least he still had breath in his lungs. "Once again," Jaskier coughed, sitting as upright as he could manage, "You've got the wrong bard, I'm afraid. Perhaps I could point you to another singer who gives a shit. Though I warn you, their singing won't be as goo-" His head snapped to the right after the strike, leaving his jaw pulsing with dull pain. "Yeah, okay. Fair."
"Enough! " The guard squatted to meet Jaskier's eye level, gaze brimming with rage and annoyance. "Either you tell us what we want or we'll tear it out of you as the life leaves your eyes. The Captain gives no shits about your well being, much less now that you've refused to submit."
Now that the pain had allowed for Jaskier's focus to return, he could notice the scar under the guard's eye. It travelled from just below the eye into a curved line tucking under his chin. It still looked fresh, or at least never correctly healed. It looked disgusting, even considering how many scars Jaskier had seen before. Of course, he'd seen old ones, ones that had faded with time. Even the newer ones that he'd tried to tend to never looked this bad. Maybe Geralt-
Geralt.
Jaskier shook the thought from himself, feeling the familiar lump in his throat begin to settle. It would do nothing for him if he welcomed the thought of his Witcher back in. It had been too long since he'd even heard rumors of Geralt's actions throughout his travels. Travels without him. For good. Even if Geralt did hear about Jaskier's disappearance, he'd probably think of it as a blessing. Finally receiving peace for all the
His mind was sent reeling from the next hit.
"How do we find the Witcher? If you give me any information the next weapon to come through those doors won't be necessary, you little shit!" The horribly scarred man pulled him to his feet, albeit shaking ones. Face to face in a distance that was much too close for Jaskier's smelling preference, the guard pointed a gloved finger to the heavy wooden door behind him. The only door in the room. Too many hours spent looking at the door. Too many minutes passing as the man continued glaring into the bard's steeled face, determination clear.
"Fuck off." Jaskier lowly growled, wadding up enough spit to land on the armor against his chest. If he'd learned anything from his travels, anything from Geralt, it was that he was much more stubborn than others would ever hope to know. Despite their shattered friendship, despite the passing ache that would fall onto Jaskier's shoulders when people would ask for the tale of the White Wolf, he would never betray that trust they'd given each other. Yes, he didn't know anything about Geralt since that day. And he most likely wouldn't live long enough to catch a glimpse of that white hair in the moonlight again. But if his struggle here would at least buy Geralt some time to live another day, he'd take it. "Fuck Off. "
His back hit the stone immediately, rushing the air out of his lungs and leaving him gasping. He'd heard the shaking yell of the infuriated guard before hearing the door burst open. They brought in a pot, and for a moment Jaskier thought he'd finally be poisoned for his troubles. But the bright red metal they'd taken out stilled his heart.
They wouldn't
It took two guards to hold him against the stone, his cries nearly muffled as he struggled fiercely in their grasp. He could see the boots getting closer.
Please
Someone ripped the back of his shirt, he nearly felt the blade nick his skin when it glided through the dirty silk. They ignored his screaming once more.
Geralt.
When he felt something...Wrong hit his skin, he lost all sense. He vaguely heard scuffling, a stomach-churning sizzle of flesh and a loud shrill cry. It was only when he'd realized, out of breath, that it was his own voice he'd been hearing that he saw white. And finally gained peace.