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Jaskier, Ciri and Geralt had been travelling for weeks with minimal interactions with people or towns.
Although it was necessary for all their safety, Jaskier was dying for the chance to visit a marketplace and buy some of the many things they were low on, or out of completely. They were low on coin as well and while Geralt was quite noticeable with his white hair, Jaskier the bard was also a well known name.
After days of arguments on the topic they finally decided that Geralt would take the next contract he could find, while Jaskier and Ciri bought supplies.
It would be easier for Geralt to approach the alderman alone, and would draw less attention than a performance from a renowned bard.
The two days it took to reach a town after they finally made their decision were two of the longest Jaskier had ever experienced, or at least that's how it felt.
Finally the day came that they reached the town. It wasn't a big city by any means but it was large enough that there was a market square bustling with life.
They parted ways before they came too close to town, Geralt approaching before them and heading for the notice board while Jaskier and Ciri, hoods up, followed at a more leisurely pace.
The Witcher made eye contact with the bard across the square and gave an almost imperceptible nod, then after partially tearing a piece of parchment from the board he strode off.
Jaskier was sure to wait a few minutes before making a pass by the notice board himself. He briefly glanced at the torn parchment noting the contract Geralt had taken was for drowners. A quick simple job usually, not the greatest for coin but it would be done in an afternoon and would get them through as long as Jaskier spent what they currently had wisely.
"Will he be long?" Ciri asked, breaking Jaskier out of his musings.
"Hmm? Oh, no I'd say not. Simple contract shouldn't take long at all really. While he's gone we need to replenish our supplies," he looped their arms together and began to lead Ciri around the small market, explaining what they needed as they walked so she could help keep an eye out for the items they were after.
They spent the afternoon browsing the market, picking up a few essentials, some fruits and vegetables, some bread, a few herbs and some ink among other things. Ciri looked longingly at the sweets on offer and Jaskier figured with the coin Geralt would be adding to their shared purse later in the day he could splurge a little and let Ciri pick out something sweet from the baker.
The girl had just finished licking her sticky fingers clean when a group of soldiers came wandering out of the nearby tavern.
“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed as he pulled Ciri’s hood more firmly over her pale hair. He couldn’t be sure from this distance but he was fairly confident that the insignia they wore was that of Nilfgaard.
Ciri gave a questioning look, following his gaze before her own eyes widened in surprise.
“Jaskier, what do we do?” she asked quietly, looking around the market like Geralt would magically reappear just because she wished it.
“We lay low and make our way out of town. Geralt will come find us once the contract is done if he sees that we’ve left. Don’t worry dear we have contingency plans for this very thing.”
Plan in place the pair slowly resumed walking around the market, this time keeping their heads down a little more, while they were slowly making their way towards the road back out of town.
Jaskier kept an eye on the soldiers, while also looking out for Geralt. He hoped the Witcher would show up, but at the same time he knew Geralt would be easily spotted with his well known white hair.
After enough time had passed so as to not seem suspicious, he was almost certain they were home free as they began to walk out of the market and back towards the main road.
They would make their way down the road to where they parted earlier and head into the woods a little.
Everything was going fine until a young child, maybe ten years old or so, came barrelling down a side street and crashed into the pair, sending both Jaskier and Ciri sprawling.
The commotion drew the attention of a number of locals, as well as the very much unwanted attention of the soldiers, who by that stage had been making their own way across the marketplace, likely gathering their own supplies for the road.
Ciri’s hood came off as she fell and the flash of ash blonde hair was enough to draw the interest of the soldiers.
The small band of men began to stride purposefully towards them, their voices growing louder and one of them beginning to point.
“Shit. Ciri, you need to run. Don’t stop, don’t look back. Just run fast as you can and find Geralt. He’ll keep you safe,” Jaskier whispered hurriedly, eyeing the men who were drawing ever nearer.
Ciri looked ready to protest, but after only a moment she looked away and nodded, taking off at a run down the street.
As Ciri ran the soldiers began to run as well, shouting now and calling for her to halt and to declare herself.
Jaskier put himself between Ciri and the soldiers. He knew there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it out but he would buy her whatever time he could. He pulled his dagger from boot, knowing it would be no good against a sword, and faced the Nilfaardians who would threaten a child.
“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” Jaskier called, dagger held low but ready.
“State your name and get that girl back here,” the first to arrive stated, he was shorter than Jaskier but a little older and had a scar across his cheek. He had a hand on the hilt of a sword sheathed at his waist.
“Ah good sir, my name is Julian. That was my daughter, you merely startled her-” Jaskier was cut off by the sword aimed for his throat by another of the soldiers, this one a younger man, dark hair obscuring part of his face. What Jaskier could see looked cold and cruel and he gulped, staring at the sword.
“Don’t fucking lie to us you piece of shit, where’s the girl gone to? Tell us and we’ll make your death a quick one.”
Jaskier plastered a fake smile on his face, and got ready to move out of the way if the soldier tried to take his head off.
“Now, now good sir, there’s no need to threaten violence. If you’ll wait right here I’ll go retrieve her for you,” he said, backing away a step, trying to get some distance between himself and the blade.
“I don’t think so,” the first soldier sneered, drawing his own weapon and closing the distance between them.
Jaskier knew he couldn’t fight a sword with a dagger. However, he also knew how to fight dirty. One doesn’t survive long as a travelling bard without picking up a few tricks.
As the soldier began to thrust his blade towards Jaskier, the bard ducked and rolled beneath the blade, using the momentum to get back up again and twisted so he was behind the man, using his dagger to cut deeply into the man’s sword arm. The soldier yelled at the unexpected pain and dropped his sword.
Dropping to the ground once more Jaskier grabbed the fallen weapon. He hated swords, but Geralt had taught him the basics and he intended to use anything at his disposal to keep these bastards away from Ciri as long as possible.
Jaskier wasn’t sure how long he held out before one of them got a good hit in. He had suffered deep laceration to his left arm, the injury causing him to falter and allowing another of the men to get close enough to hit him in the head with the pommel of their sword.
Disoriented, he dropped to the ground and rough hands grabbed him before dragging him away from the road and back to the inn.
Jaskier was vaguely aware of the soldiers shouting at the patrons to get out or suffer the same fate as him.
Suffice to say that the inn was empty within a matter of moments, the barmaid throwing him a pained look as though she wished she could help him on her way out the door.
“Now you can be a good lad and tell us what we want to know and we can end this nice and quick, or you can spend the next few days here with us and we will get it out of you anyway. This’ll be my last offer,” the man speaking to him seemed to be the leader. The others waited to the side while this one grabbed Jaskier by the hair and held his face up to look him in the eye.
Jaskier’s head was throbbing and he felt like he would pass out if not for the insistent pain of his hair being pulled and the man practically spitting his face.
“I told you, my daughter was just startled. She’s probably already come back looking for me-” a fist crunched into his cheek bone and Jaskier stifled a sob. He really wasn’t cut out for this whole torture thing.
It went on in this manner until it was dark. The soldiers kept asking him questions, Jaskier dancing around the truth and refusing to tell them anything of real substance.
He was fairly sure that he passed out at one stage.
Even Nilfgaardian soldiers were only human though, and after what felt like days, but was probably only hours, all but one of the small group headed off to sleep.
The one on guard duty simply tied him to the chair he was sat upon and went to keep a look out.
Jaskier hoped that Ciri had found Geralt. He hoped that they were far away. He hoped they would rescue him. Some of these things were rather contradictory but he was a bard, not a hardened soldier or mercenary. He didn’t want to die here being tortured, though he would if it would only save Ciri.
The night passed slowly, the men swapping out guard duty every two hours so they all got sleep.
Jaskier drifted in and out of consciousness and waited for the dawn to come, mentally preparing himself for another day of being beaten and tortured.
An hour or so before dawn one of his wishes came true when Geralt silently climbed through a back window of the inn when the guard was nodding off.
The soldier startled awake when he saw the intruder but was quickly silenced when Geralt ran him through with his steel sword.
Geralt made quick work of cutting the ropes keeping Jaskier bound, and slung the bard’s less injured arm around his own broad shoulders.
“Geralt, you need to get Ciri out of here. Just leave me, I’ll slow you down,” Jaskier insisted as Geralt half carried him out of the inn and into the darkness of the sleeping town beyond.
“Shut up Jask, Ciri is fine. I'm not leaving you behind," Geralt said firmly, as he continued to lead the bard through the town.
Realising how serious Geralt was Jaskier opted to keep his mouth shut and focus on trying to walk.
By the time they were out of the town and in the forest to the side of the road Jaskier's injuries and exhaustion were catching up to him. More than once Geralt had to catch him as he stumbled.
After the third instance Geralt just closed the space between them and pulled Jaskier to a halt.
"Come on, let me help you," he motioned Jaskier closer before bending as he wrapped one arm around the bard's lower back, the other beneath his knees as he deftly lifted the younger man into his arms.
Too tired to fight it, Jaskier just let himself be carried back to wherever Geralt had left Ciri squirrelled away in wait for their return.
“I’d never leave you behind Jask. You know that. Rest now and we’ll be back at camp soon,” Geralt murmured.
Feeling warm at Geralt’s words despite the situation he did just that. Letting himself drift and trying to focus on anything other than the pain he was in while Geralt carried him back to the most important thing in either of their lives.