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Jaskier awoke alone, a thin line of sunlight draped over him like a blanket of warmth from the window in front of him, he felt anything but warm now.
His hands were bound behind him, his ankles roughly tied together, and a gag was firmly lodged into his mouth. A sharp pain came from his head, the very place his own lute had hit him, in the hands of one he thought he could trust.
It was too good to be true, so why had he believed it?
Radovid hadn’t wanted him, just to use him to get to Ciri.
The thought made a tear find a way down his cheek, but he was more angry than anything.
Was he more angry at Radovid, or himself?
There was a part of him that had known for certain the prince’s true intentions, but he hadn’t wanted to believe it.
"The only good part of this mess, was meeting you."
Those words now had a different meaning, it wasn’t because Jaskier was what he desired, but what the bard meant for Redania's plans. Jaskier had been put in charge of Ciri, he was supposed to protect her, and the prince had taken advantage of that.
His sense had been swept away by Radovid’s charm, he had even learned his song. No one had made that effort before, they never looked past his outward charm, his surface, his mask.
Radovid had seen him, for him.
And he took advantage of that.
The manipulation was clear in hindsight.
I’m scared, Jaskier. A distraction, one meant to lower his guard, and it had.
"Just admitting that makes you braver than you know."
The prince had smiled, he thought it was one that was genuine, but he now knew it was due to the fact that Radovid knew the act was working.
"That’s it, that’s what makes you so special."
Melitele, he had wanted to believe him, he had believed him.
“You don’t just see people, you see the best in them.”
Jaskier had hesitated then, if only for a second, a voice in his head had sent him a warning.
What was he not seeing here, because he was looking for his best?
But before his thoughts could develop into any action, Radovid had reached for his lute.
"May I?”
He was confused by the request, and he let him take it. Radovid knew the way past his suspicion, the way to earn his trust.
“Yeah. Yeah, all right.”
And the prince had played his own damn song back to him. The playing wasn’t perfect, which they could work on, but all rational thought left his mind as Radovid’s voice repeated his own words back to him, he felt seen, heard, appreciated. He had rushed forward and kissed the prince, gently pulling back his golden hair and cradling his face. Radovid reciprocated, wrapping his arms around Jaskier’s waist.
It was incredible, it felt real, was it all a lie?
Jaskier snapped back to reality, tugging at his restraints, the course rope scratching against his porcelain skin, digging into the hands that had so tenderly held the traitorous prince. He felt sick.
“I can’t take you inside, I’m sorry.”
The bard had whispered, he wouldn’t risk betraying Ciri for his own feelings, no matter how strong.
“Then take me here.”
And passion flooded through him, all thoughts replaced by the gentle touch of Radovid’s fingers, his lips pressed against his, his guard so completely down.
Jaskier had felt a happiness then, one he hadn’t had in what felt like a lifetime. Time froze as he shared this moment with the prince, his eyes closed, soaking his presence in.
He hadn’t seen the arm raise to strike, the one that still held his lute in its hand, and he didn’t realize till a shooting pain erupted from his head, making his vision go white.
“I’m sorry, Jaskier.”
Was the last thing he heard before he crumpled to the ground, groaning. Then another swing of the lute impacted his head once again, and the darkness overtook him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Now he was left here, alone, angry, frightened, and injured. He had to get up, find Ciri, find out what had happened.
But he was tired, betrayed, and didn’t know how he was going to tell Geralt and Yennifer when they returned.
If they even returned for him, maybe they would simply leave him once they found Ciri was gone, maybe they already had. He had betrayed them.
Plus, he didn’t really have the energy to move, let alone get out of restraints, and he felt like the world was spinning around him.
Having a head injury wasn’t good.
He could talk to himself, normally, sing something to calm himself down, but Radovid had even taken that way to cope when he left.
And so Jaskier cried, the sound muffled by the gag, until he fell asleep, exhausted from the events, and weakened by his injuries.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Geralt and Yennifer did return, after the events at Aretuza, to find Ciri gone and the bard in a sorry state.
The witch rushed forward to remove the gag and restraints from the bard, lifting him up to rest sitting against a sack of grain on the floor.
“What could have happened, Geralt?” Yennifer sighed, inspecting the bleeding spot on Jaskier’s head. The bard stirred, opening his eyes, blinking heavily and not quite awake.
The Witcher hummed in concern, scanning the room around him, then seeing a bloodied lute stashed away in the corner, hidden from the natural light.
“Looks like we’re going to have to ask him.” He replied, kneeling down to meet Jaskier’s hazy eyes, they flitted around till they finally focused enough to register the Witcher in front of them.
Jaskier shrunk from his gaze with an involuntary whimper, guilt written across his delicate features, Geralt softened as he realized he’d been glaring at the bard by accident, the anger towards Ciri’s assumed capture still lingering.
“Jaskier, what happened?” He asked softly.
Tears began to form in the bard’s eyes, he looked at Geralt with what almost seemed like fear.
“I’m so sorry Geralt, its all my fault, I trusted him, I-“
“Who, Jaskier?” Yennifer asked.
He turned to her, whispering like he was afraid of the words.
“Radovid, the prince of Redania.”
She closed her eyes and hissed sharply, standing to pace the floor, anger and frustration evident.
Geralt sighed and shook his head, now glaring at the bard who looked as though he wanted to disappear.
“Why, Jask?” He stood, looking down on the man.
“I was stupid, and he lowered my guard, told me I was special, I-I even kissed him, I-“
His words turned incoherent and he began to sob, crumpling under the anger and frustration of the two people he so cared for. He was betrayed, and it was his fault, and now two of the people he cared for the most were angry with him. He whimpered as the pain in his head ached, a wave of dizziness overtaking him. His hand went up to touch his injury, as if to somehow shield it from pain, and shot down again as pain shot through him.
Geralt felt the anger fade to concern and he kneeled once again, gesturing to Yennifer to look at the wound on his head.
He didn’t want to know how the bard could trust someone like that when Ciri was under his care, but he knew that Jaskier could fall hard and fall fast. He was manipulated, and blaming him now would do them no good. He knew Jaskier would never purposefully put the princess in harms way, he was tricked.
The Witcher looked at Yennifer, who began to heal Jaskier's injury, her anger also replaced with a look of care, and he put a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. He cringed as the bard flinched from the touch.
“Jaskier, it’s ok. We’re going to find her together.” Geralt whispered, rubbing small circles into his shoulder.
Yennifer nodded in agreement, then mumbled an incantation, the blood on his head faded, and the broken skin closed as if it were never touched.
Jaskier’s exhaustion was still evident on his face, his eyes were puffy from crying and his face was tear-stained.
“You…aren’t angry?” He spoke in a half whisper.
“We know you wouldn’t betray us Jaskier, you were manipulated, and they will pay for that.” Yennifer replied with conviction, taking his hand into her own and squeezing tightly.
“I wouldn’t, I swear, and I’m so sorry, Ciri-“
“Ciri is going to be fine, we will find her.” Geralt cut him off.
“And you’ll help us, Jaskier, you know well who took her. But for now, rest, you annoying twat.” The Witch added.
And with another incantation, Jaskier fell into a deep slumber, surrounded by two he called family.