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“Wait, what?” Jaskier could not believe his ears. He ignored the twin looks of annoyance Geralt and Yennifer gave him at his interruption of their lesson with Ciri. Or rather, his interruption of their break in teaching as they grew too frustrated with their lack of progress to continue without a drink or two and giving Ciri some time to relax and regroup. After what he just heard he knew they had NO ground to stand on when it came to having time wasted by others.
“You’ve been trying to teach her what now? I thought you were teaching her magic!” He knew they were. In fact, for the last three months they had done nothing but try, in their own, individually awkward ways, to teach Ciri how to control the strange magical powers that ran through her blood. For three months he has sat by as they struggled to communicate the simplest ideas and techniques to the girl, and for months he has kept his comments to a minimum despite being increasingly exasperated with their so-called teaching methods and both Geralt and Yennifer’s tendency to get snippy with everyone and everything when Ciri just couldn't grasp what they were trying to impart.
“Let me get this straight.” He was pacing now, squeezing his hands into fists to avoid messing his hair with furious, agitated pulling. “You’ve been fucking about this whole time trying to teach her to attack someone with her voice .” He wanted to pull his hair out so badly. All this time wasted. He could have been singing at court, enjoying the good life in a city somewhere with friendly company and real food instead of roughing it miles from indoor plumbing, all because Ciri needed a safe place to practice her magic .
“Yes, Jaskier,” Yennifer says in that tone that changes Jaskier to You Complete And Utter Idiot. “I don’t know how you missed it, but training Cirilla to channel her magic through her voice to create a focused and powerful attack, on purpose mind you, has been the whole point of this painful endeavor.” She knocks back her glass of wine as if getting drunk would erase their months of failure to reach said goal.
Jaskier closed his eyes, counting to ten and forcing himself to breathe deeply, to breathe efficiently, powerfully, and purposefully. Years spent at university, more again under master bards as an apprentice. Years on the road as a journeyman honing his natural born talents into a skill that would make him a Master of his craft and lauded professor at the largest center of learning on the continent; all reduced to forcing himself to remain calm enough not to hit his friends over the head with his lute in frustration.
“I can do that.”
They look at him blankly, and he is just about to repeat himself, perhaps if he says it slower and louder this time they will understand, but the pair are already groaning and turning away in annoyance as if he was the one wasting their time and THE NERVE OF THEM!
“Well fuck you too!” And fuck staying calm. His training worked just as well to power the rant he was about to whoop ass with. “I mean really! You want to train her voice and you don't ask the master bard conveniently wasting his life hanging out with you idiots? Hello?” He said, gesturing dramatically at his person. “I am the only one in this gods forsaken pack of barely functional adults who specifically has voice training? You people wouldn't know a scale from a key and heaven forbid you get off your supernatural high horses and ask the human for his expert help!”
Geralt sighs. “Enough, this isn’t about your delicate feelings, bard-“
Ignoring him, Jaskier grabs Yennifer’s wine glass right out of her hand. Ignoring her enraged shout he dumps the contents into the fire, which goes up with a whoosh, and dries the glass with a hankey.
“I’ve been able to do this since I was barely older than you,” he says conspiratorially to Ciri, who is now watching him with rapt attention. “But I’ve yet to meet more than one other bard who can manage it without resorting to some sort of trick to boost their impact.” He taps his nail on the glass, satisfied that it's dry enough (and checking that it is real glass and not some sort of magical material, or even possibly unreal material. You could never be too sure with sorceresses).
“You can cheat it of course, I’ve seen people do that with reed straws and such, but my skill works on voice alone.” He says proudly, ignoring Geralt’s annoyed huffing.
He holds up the wine glass dramatically, opens his mouth, and WAILS.
It shatters in his hand.
Geralt is on his feet in an instant, blades drawn. Yennifer is still reeling in shock, blinking at the obliterated cup in a way that leaves Jaskier feeling very smug indeed, but she recovers enough to pull Ciri back toward her and away from Jaskier and his shattered pile of glass.
“What are you?” Geralt demands, lips pulled back in a snarl that only betrays how caught out by surprise he was.
Jaskier scoffs. He hadn't been impressed by Geralt’s posturing in years.
“Fucking talented is what I am.” He sniffed, dropping the broken wine glass stem into the grass and offering the princess his hand. “Come Ciri darling. If voice training is what you require then I will give you the range of a goddess.”
He smirks at the pair as Ciri pushes eagerly out of Yenn’s arms and grabs his hand. “Oh thank Melitile. I thought we would be stuck out here forever. If I had to listen to them argue about whether being cold and calm, or furious and burning was the best way to fight, or tell me to visualise my power as a flowing river or something stupid like that one more time I was going to run off to a temple and take a vow of silence rather than scream ever again!”
“There there, darling. It's not their fault, really. Not everyone who can do can teach.” He patted her head, rolling his eyes at the greatly offended looks Geralt and Yenn were giving him. “Now, let's go somewhere more private so you can practice all the silly, embarrassing yelling where they can’t watch and judge, shall we?”
“Yes please.” She replies primmly, and he smiles approvingly at her manners. “Do you think you can teach me to explode someone’s head like you did that glass? That would be wicked gross!”