#yennefer whump

[astaldis]

Issue no 27 - Lullaby for Yennefer

From Chapter 7: Bard Comfort of "Where the Tulips Grow."

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Whumpee: Yennefer of Vengerberg

Caretaker: Jaskier

"Grit your teeth, Yen, this is going to sting." Yennefer gives a curt nod. She has lived through worse in her long life, much worse. Moreover, to her own surprise and against all reason, she trusts 'doctor' Jaskier. As a lutenist he has dextrous, sensitive fingers, hasn't he? Surely a lot more so than Geralt. Jaskier is an artist. He will be good and gentle with a needle, too. Like he is with everything he does.

It does sting when Jaskier carefully cleanses the injury with a cloth soaked in hot water, of course it does, and even more so when he pours copious amounts of a cold liquid onto it that smells like some very strong spirit. Judging from the deep sigh he gives while doing so, a spirit he is loath to part with, but still he does, for her. Yennefer clenches her teeth as hard as she can and only gives a low groan at the burning sensation that radiates from her side into her whole body. It does not get any better, either, when Jaskier starts to insert the first stitch, then the next. She tries to concentrate on his gentle voice that accompanies every stab of the needle with soft, soothing words. To her amazement, it helps a lot more than expected. It is almost a bit like magic. Perhaps it is magic after all? Jaskier's very own, very personal magic? A magic she could easily get lost in. Yennefer sighs. Maybe this is exactly what she should do, get lost in his voice and his touch and forget about the pain and the world and just fall asleep to the gentle lullaby he has begun to sing to her. Or is it a love song?

"He watches the morning light catch on her raven hair. Curves of her lips promisin' a life that they will share. Two lovers intertwined in the light of a winter's dawn. As the rubble of war sweeps down through the valley. So, stay with me, oh, lover, my heart's filled with worry. Stay with me, oh, lover, the borders are burning. And war is yearning to take you away from me. And to bury you deep in the clay down below. So, come to me, oh, lover, my heart is still burning. Come to me, oh, lover ..."

Jaskier keeps on singing the song of the Lark, the elven warrior who killed both an Empress and her lover to save to world. A hauntingly sad song, but still full of hope and love and yearning. The song the mysterious shape-shifting elven storyteller taught him along with the tale of the Seven. He keeps on singing until the last stitch is done and the wound dressed in fresh, clean bandages, until Yennefer relaxes in his arms and falls deeply asleep to his tune with a little smile on her lips, a smile as sweet as the promise of spring. Tenderly, Jaskier tucks the blankets around his sleeping beauty and kisses her good-night on the cheek. Then it is time to finally see to his own leg. No, wait. A disturbing image springs to his mind all of a sudden. Fuck! Almost worried out of his mind for Yennefer, he totally forgot about her, imagine this! His lute, she is still out there. Possibly lying broken beyond repair in the dark and rain. A jolt of panic grips the bard. Looks like he is not quite done rescuing loved ones yet, no. He has to get to her immediately. And yes, don't laugh, his lute is a she and she has a name, too. However, her name is his secret, and it will remain a secret as long as he can sing. So, hopefully until the last breath he breathes on this continent. Preferably in the far, far away future.

[hannibard]

Say what you will about the witcher season 2 but all the "Yennefer took Jaskier in the divorce", "Geralt and Yennefer are a divorced couple rasing a kid and dating the same man", "geraskefer love triangle with an oblivious Jaskier in the middle" memes and fics were top tier

[fioblah]

surround yourself with fragile things

tip jar

[whumpypepsigal]

“We didn’t come this far just to abandon each other.” — “Then don’t abandon me.”

[patroclusdefencesquad]

yennskier forehead smooch my beloved

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

Jaskier has abs of steel

Bonus : geraskier and yennskier similar soft kicks

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 27

Geralt is fighting a mage who takes his memory of the last 30 or so years and plops it in a jar before fucking off. Geralt is confused, but even moreso when he returns camp and some guy in obnoxious clothing is waiting for him. The man gasps at Geralt's appearance - No big deal, humans always do - Before rushing over to him and pouncing to attack. Geralt does the smart thing and flings the human away. The human slides in the dirt a bit and looks up at him with hurt in his expression, which is... odd. Roach also seems a bit peeved. Maybe because there's a strange man in their camp? "Geralt, what's gotten into you? That- That was rather rude. You could've just said you didn't want me to hug you today." "Today?" "Yes, Geralt! I hug you after every hunt gone well! Every day! What are you, a doppler?" "Are you?" "Hah hah, very funny Geralt, I'm laughing, truly, I am." "...How do you know my name?" And suddenly the human looks very worried. "Oh fuck- Did you hit your head or something!? Do you have a concussion? Can witchers even get concussions!?" The bright man screeches, reaching for him again. Geralt very awkwardly flails his arm up to swat his hand away with a harsh "Don't touch me." and the man glares at him, before slowly just looking... sad. Deep down, Geralt dislikes seeing this man look upset. It causes this odd ache deep to his core. Geralt begins interrogating this man about why and how he knows him, and the man keeps talking to Geralt as if he's some poor wet puppy in a box. Eventually Geralt tells him to leave the camp and not follow him. The man doesn't listen. Geralt is getting really fed up with him, until the man tells him he'll leave Geralt if he takes him to some woman named "Yennefer" because "She'll hopefully know how to help." This in turn becomes Yennefer saying Geralt's lost all his memories of Jaskier, Jaskier sobbing into Yennefer's shoulder as she awkwardly comforts her weird gay friends, and then her sending Jaskier and Geralt (and or also coming along) to track down the mage and get the jar of memories back, even though the entire time Geralt is adamant about Jaskier not coming, fearful for the human who seems to care so much about him for some reason. Either he can't trust this "Jaskier", or even worse, this Jaskier who seems too perfect to be true is real, and does indeed care for Geralt this much, and thus Geralt can't let ANYTHING bad happen to him.

[dapandapod]

Brave your neck to see the sun

Just another thing that lives in my head rent free that is half a fic, half an idea, that begs to be written, so here is the mix of it. And because who I am as a person, I slapped it on Ao3 as well.

(cw, lettenhove has fallen, sad stuff in general, loss of family, their spirits)

Because....

Cursed Jaskier.

I mean, he is immortal, and his home, Lettenhove, is but crumbled rock by now, and jaskier is tied to their ruins. 

And maybe madness is threatening in the corner of his eye, maybe the past is talking to him, maybe the stones remembered what they looked like in ages past.

And Jaskier cannot leave.

Maybe this is where jaskier goes after the mountain, because when he last was home, it was still standing.

But the land is fallen, burned, ash on his tongue.

Maybe there was a curse put on the stones rather than him, keeping what remains of the family bound to the ground, for the dynasty to defend against an army should they return.

And Jaskier is caught in the ruins, and the remains of his family and his childhood.

Geralt finds Ciri, and she dreams of Yennefer, yes, but she cant' stop dreaming of a land that was, and she feels herself pulled there, but it is too dangerous, because it is on the other side of the army following her.

When they finally go, the survivors in the gathering of houses on the outskirts of Lettenhove speak of a ghost, of lights as the darkness is falling, of the sound of crying, and singing, sometimes laughing.

It takes time for them to make it up there, the magic fighting them every step of the way, making it treacherous and dangerous.

Jaskier can hear them coming, but they are not the first ones attempting to seek the treasures of what once was, and he hides.

They find a lute, broken in what seems in a fit of rage against the stones. some of the strings are still connecting the neck to the body, and Geralt feels a pang of fear when he recognizes it.

Jaskier has had time to make many hiding spots, a routa of sorts, of small camps. There are weeds growing around the cracked stones, sticking up defiantly, baring their necks to see the sun.

Eventually Geralt finds Jaskier, hiding in one of the crumbled rooms, a half burned painting propped up against the wall, a little girl with one eye covered with yellow locks looking out, holding the hand of her older brother.

Jaskier holds his dagger out, until he realizes who it is.

Geralt doesn’t know how to break the curse, and it hurts Jaskier to leave. They can’t stay with him, and to not raise suspicion they have to leave him behind.

Jaskier watches them leave, and he knows that he won’t see them again. Why would Geralt come back after all, now that Jaskier finally can’t follow.

He waits until he can’t see them anymore, until he believes they can’t hear him anymore, and he screams out his frustrations, voice echoing against the stones.

Eventually Yennefer finds him, and she has the solution. Not a pleasant one, but one that allows him to leave.

His bloodline is tied to this place, imprinted on him when his fathers father brought him underground and a small child, and put his blood among his ancestors.

What Jaskier thought was madness was instead shattered remains of a spirit.

With the witch’s help, Jaskier’s mother’s spirit wakes, and she cries when she sees her son.

“Where were you?” She asks, she grieves, she screams, until her rage has run its course.

More spirits rise, and Yennefer keeps them safe in the middle of the courtyard.

The curse can’t be lifted, but they learn that Jaskier can be freed, can move on from his past if he lifts his imprint away from the stone.

A grave hag has taken residence below, her cackling and grunting traveling up the stairs, and Yennefer too must leave Jaskier, to bring a witcher to help.

Her magic is still fragile, and she places her hand on Jaskier’s cheek as he takes her goodbye, leaving him with the spirits of his family.

Eventually it is Eskel who kills the hag, keeping Jaskier company when he laughs a little too loudly, his eyes a little too wide with unrest and grief.

When Yennefer finally returns, she brings Geralt and Ciri once more, and they are surprised to see Eskel by Jaskier’s side, the hag dealt with.

Yennefer presses Jaskier’s cut palm against the cold stone of his ancestors, chanting as she recalls his blood, distangles his past from the stone.

Above, the ruins creak and groan, the spirits growing agitated. They shriek and they trash and they try to protect their home from the intruders.

When they emerge, Jaskier is quiet. He is quiet as he tests his first steps outside the ruin grounds, and he is quiet when he looks back to what was his home, and then his prison.

The ground is covered in weeds, slowly dancing in the wind, the spirits keeping their own company.

Lettenhove is no more, and the ruins remain unbothered. 

Sometimes Jaskier returns, just to speak with his sister. Sometimes he sings to his mother, and talks about the worldly affairs with his father.

Jaskier is not tied to the stone anymore, but his spirit will not rest until his family does.

Ciri doesn’t dream of the ruins anymore, but sometimes she gets a faraway look, takes Jaskier’s hand, and asks if he would take her to the coast.

Geralt and Yennefer never reconnected after the djinn. and eventually finds another djinn to break the wish.

She finds her own way, even if it is connected to Ciri’s, and she finds her own destiny in the shape of a Merigold.

It takes time for Geralt to build up what he broke. Takes time to figure out how friendship works, and even more so when Geralt figures out his own feelings towards the bard.

The bard is not the same man, how could he be, but he grows anyway. Grows like a defiant weed in the cracks of a stone, baring their neck to see the sun. 

[whump-collector]

Eamon Farren as Cahir in The Witcher 2x03

For @whumpers-monthly Issue no 21: Fake execution

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon (Modern AU) - Teething

Jaskier, likes to have fun. Everyone does. But sometimes, he goes a little too far. When the I'm-bored-let's-do-something-fun part of his brain turns on, he often gets into trouble, and takes Geralt along with him.

Because Geralt, no matter how mature and rational he is, always loses all his common sense the second Jaskier gets involved. Jaskier comes up with a brilliantly irrational idea for something fun, like sticking firecrackers in anthills, or tying a Halloween prop skeleton to the ceiling fan and turning it on high, and Geralt's brain is suddenly comprised of a single dustbunny and an obscene amount of blind trust.

Jaskier: "Do you want to go to the pool and put floaties on our feet to see if we can walk on water?"

Geralt *brain functioning at the same level as a common whelk*: "I'll get the floaties!"

Zero consideration is ever given to all the ways these ideas could go wrong. Jaskier just sometimes forgets that Geralt is a Witcher, and is much stronger than a regular human bean. With much faster relfexes.

Jaskier also regularly gives in to his intrusive thoughts. Which is how he decides that tickling a Witcher would be a good idea. Jaskier had the upper hand at first, having the element of surprise. And then Geralt, in breathless desperation, had twisted and...kicked.

He'd caught Jaskier right in the mouth. There had been blood. So much blood. It had been running from between Jaskier's fingers where he had one hand clamped over his mouth as he'd slowly tried to stand up, dazed and in so much pain he couldn't even scream. Geralt had grabbed him, pulling his hand away from his mouth.

He was missing most of his teeth on the left side, and the rest were broken.

F**k

The box of dumba** band-aids wasn't going to fix this.

Yennefer had been able to stop the bleeding and heal the empty sockets. She'd had to use a spell to numb his mouth and remove the broken and shattered teeth.

Repairing a few damaged teeth with magic was fairly easy. It didn't require much Chaos, but creating a whole new set of teeth? That was beyond what Yennefer could do all in one go

It would have taken several months to replace all his teeth. So, she came up with a spell to convince Jaskier's body to just grow more. Jaskier had expected to wake up the next morning with his teeth all grown back, but no. Apparently, it wasn't going to be that easy.

A week later, he woke up, gums a little sore. He put it down to soreness left over from being kicked in the mouth by a massive Witcher boot. A few days later, and the soreness had become more intense. He didn't mention it to Yennefer, not wanting to constantly whine about the same thing every day.

The pain put him in a bad mood and made him just want to hide in bed. He'd gotten more irritable over the following two days, snapping at Geralt and Yennefer and keeping to himself more. Yennefer had sensed his discomfort and gone to check on him. She had gone into his room, brushing soothingly at his mind as she ran her hand up and down his back. He was sweating slightly but didn't feel as if he had a fever. She had a suspicion of what was wrong.

"Your mouth hurting you, Nightengale?" She received an irritable grunt in reply. "You should have said something! Here, let me see." Yennefer carefully pressed her finger into his mouth and lightly ran it over his gums. She could feel two small bumps on his lower gums and two on the upper ones, right at the front.

Ah, just as she thought. Yennefer pressed her finger down on the bumps, rubbing gently, and Jaskier's breath hitched, then he realxed, biting down on her finger with a soft moan of relief.

"Your teeth are coming in." Yennefer said, rubbing the sore gums

Jaskier pulled away with an incredulous squawk of "You mean I'm teething?! Teething? Like babies do?!"

"Did you think they were going to just pop up overnight?"

Jaskier :*irritated, embarrassed gumbling*

He rubbed a hand through his hair in frustration. "Doesn't that take months? I'm going to be f***ing teething for months?"

"It won't take months," Yennefer assured him, playing with the hair at his temple, "They'll come in four at a time, with two days between. That way, you get a break between the sets."

And here he was, teething as an adult. It was awful. No wonder babies cried while they were cutting their teeth! The poor little b**tards!

The first four teeth were absolute h*ll. He hadn't known how bad it was going to be. Jaskier's gums were so sore. He hadn't known what to do, so he had just sat there and cried in his room.

Geralt felt terrible. It had been an accident, but still. He'd hurt his bard and there wasn't much he could do to help him. Or maybe there was...

He went out and did a little shopping. It involved uncomfortable assumptions and some awkward eye contact, but he'd managed. He walked out of the boutique with his fancy baggie containing some things that would hopefully help.

Jaskier was on the couch, trying to distract himself with his shows. He kept rubbing his gums like Yennefer had done for him the other day.

He vaguely registered Geralt sitting down next to him, too focused on the discomfort of his gums. He felt a warm hand touch his shoulder and squeeze gently. He turned and saw Geralt tenatively holding something out to him like some sort of peace offering.

It was flat, and shaped like a dinosaur with a hole in the middle. It took Jaskier a minute to realize it was a teething ring.

Jaskier had been too desperate for relief to turn it down. He threw his pride aside and just about snatched it out of Geralt's hand.

"That helping?" Geralt asked as Jaskier made little groaning noises as he chewed on the ring.

"Ohhhhhhhh, F***ing YES!" Came the muffled reply. Jaskier glanced toward the kitchen where Yen was making dinner, then gave Geralt a mischevious look. He nudged Geralt then started making loud moaning and slurping noises around the teething ring.

"Stop that right now or I will f***ing come out there and switch off your soul!"

"What?" Jaskier asked in an innocent tone, "I'm just soothing the pain in my poor gums!"

"You're being gross," Yennefer accused him, flapping a kitchen towel at him as she stalked over.

"Well, if me chewing on a teething ring grosses you out that much, I'll just have to find something else, " Jaskier sighed, feigning hurt. He turned to Geralt and said, "I need to rub my gums on something, so how about a blowjob?"

Yennefer slapped him on the back of the head with the towel. "You disgusting little w*nker!"

"Minger!"

"Plonker!"

Yennefer grabbed the teething ring away.

"Hey!" Jaskier sqwawked, making a grab for it, only to have Yennefer keep him at arm's lenght by means of a hand on his forehead.

"Calm your tits," She drawled, "I'm trying to cast a spell!"

Jaskier grumbled and flopped dramatically back on the couch to pout.

The teething ring was cold when Yennefer handed it back to him a few moments later. "That should feel better on your gums, dove," she said, dropping a kiss on the top of his head before returning to the kitchen.

The teething ring stayed cold, thanks to the spell Yennefer had put on it, so he didn't have to worry about having to put it back in the freezer. He spent the afternoon being in a much better mood now that he could numb the annoying pain in his gums.

Yennefer had told him that the constant pain would slowly get worse over the next four days untill the teeth erupted. She had been right. The pain had gotten more intense.

He was looking at his gums in the bathroom mirror when Geralt stuck his head in and came over to see, Yennefer at his heels. Geralt tilted Jaskier's head back and gently prodded at the bumps in his gums. "Looks like they are ready to break through," Geralt said.

Yennefer hummed her agreement after looking for herself. Jaskier smiled rakishly and said "You better ask for that blowjob while you still can, Geralt!"

"EwW, JuLiAN!" Yennefer groaned, swatting Jaskier on the arm while Geralt laughed.

They finally erupted later that day, and Jaskier was relieved. The pain rapidly diminished, and he enjoyed the next two days where he wasn't in constant pain.

The next four teeth were not as bad as the first had been, to Jaskier's relief. And the four after that were fairly easy as well. He found that he didn't always need the cold teething ring to help with the ache. Sometimes, it was enough just to bite on something.

He used the other teether Geralt had bought, the soft rubber one shaped like a giraffe. It squeaked when he chewed on the body, and he spent the next four days being an absolute menace by annoying the ever-loving f**k out of Geralt and Yennefer with it.

He figured out how to 'talk' with it, and attempted to communiate with Yennefer and Geralt soley through squeaks, in various 'tones of voice'.

Jaskier (getting griped at for something): *soft, sad little squeak*

Geralt and Yennefer: *dropping everything and rushing to comfort him*

While the last two sets of teeth had been pretty easy, Jaskier found that the molars would cause him the most pain, even more so than the first four teeth. It was awful. His gums ached so badly. They were red and sore, and the pain was almost maddening.

Yennefer had to get him a different teething ring; one that could reach the back of his mouth. He wasn't complaining about the pain, and that worried her. He would go on and on about a scratch, or a bruise, but when it came to more serious injuries, he would try to hide it. She had learned that the quieter he was , the more pain he was in.

He had been lying in bed all morning, pulling at his ears, grinding his knuckles into the sides of his jaws, and chewing on his fingers. He'd tried to keep his whimpering quiet, but Yennefer had heard him.

She found the perfect teether, and spelled it cold. It had worked, to Jaskier's relief. He'd laid in his bed, cuddled up with Yennefer, his head on her stomach, letting the cold teething toy numb the pain while she stroked his cheek and ran her fingers through his hair. "You're a hot mess," she murmured to him, brushing his hair out of his eyes.

Jaskier sighed softly as the pain ebbed away, and mumbled back, his Northern accent becoming more pronounced, "No am not, am a spicy disaster."

"That you are, Bardling."

Once he was feeling better, he emerged from his room and sat on the couch to terrorize Geralt and Yennefer with sex jokes and inappropriate gestures with his teething toy, which was shaped like a banana, and even had a peel. Every time one of them looked at him, he was making some kind of suggestive motion with it.

Geralt tried not to react to it, not wanting to encourage him, but Jaskier was very creative with his jokes and gestures. Geralt had completely lost his sh*t when Jaskier managed to get his attention, then held the banana teether at crotch level and started 'peeling' it.

Geralt outright guaffawed, and couldn't stop.

Yennefer yelled at him from the study, "Stop braying like an a**!", as she, against her better judgment, came to see what the fuss was about.

She regretted it instantly.

"Well, thanks, now I have cataracts! "

"Stop doing that!"

"And don't do that either! That's somehow even worse!"

"I don't care what it's called! Just stop doing-!"

"I hope you choke on your banana!" Yennefer spat over her shoulder as she gave up and swept out of the room while Geralt laughed so hard he snorted at Jaskier pretending to deepthroat the teething toy

Jaskier sniggered when she's gone, and went back to chewing, a smug look on his face.

Four days later and the whole teething nightmare was over and Jaskier was relieved. No more pain, or drooling, or being cranky, or not being able to sleep. Now he could focus on more important things, like his music and annoying Geralt and Yennefer.

[astaldis]

Whumpers-Monthly Issue 28: Falling

Fandom: The Witcher (TV)

Whumper: Yennefer of Vengerberg

Caretaker: Jaskier

Published: 2023-02-20; Completed: 2023-04-09; Words: 23,951; Chapters: 9/9

From: Where The Tulips Grow - Chapter 3: Battle for the Bard

The two sorceresses stare at each other. Slowly, Philippa wipes the blood from her nose with a handkerchief.

"Contrary to what you might think, Yennefer," Philippa begins to speak, looking at the red stains on the white fabric pensively, "I have nothing against you personally. Why don't we sit down here, just the two of us, and talk things through. I'll conjure up a nice cup of tea, no poison, I swear. There is a bigger picture to all of this. Let me explain and you'll no doubt understand why we need the bard."

"Sorry, can't do that." Yennefer shakes her head. "Jaskier is my friend. I don't sell out friends." 

Having mostly recovered from the dizzy spell, she quickly and without warning aims a fiery jet of magic at Philippa. Perhaps she can blast her off the cliff? Fuck, how stupid of her, Philippa would probably just transform into an owl and laugh her head off. While, if the same happens to her, Yennefer, she will not have that luxury. Turning into an animal is not a skill she has mastered, nor has she ever had the desire to do so. And Philippa knows it.

Philippa dodges, the stream of light only grazing the side of her white dress, leaving an ugly singe mark in the fabric.

"You've ruined it, bitch!" Philippa spits. Then she launches the counter-attack. Several blasts of magic in quick succession that drive Yennefer, who parries the blows as good as she can, closer and closer to the edge. Three steps. Another blow and parry. Two steps. Now she is standing precariously close to the rim. Shit, she has to do something or she will tumble a hundred meters down into the abyss. Luckily, Philippa has slowed considerably by now, showing the telltale signs of magical exhaustion. Not only her nose is gushing blood, but her eyes are starting to bleed, too. Hell, they both must be looking not a little worse for wear, and feel like it. 

Yennefer takes a deep, steadying breath and summons all that is left of her chaos. With all her might, she hurls it at her opponent in a tremendous explosion of magic. Philippa is too exhausted to shield herself. The blast hits her square in the stomach and flings her across the promontory. Lying in a heap on the stony ground, she does not move.

However, something else moves. The cliff. In the very place where Yennefer is standing. Fuck!

Together with the ground under her feet, Yennefer falls.

[jaskierwhumpweek]

JASKIER WHUMP WEEK 2023

Announcing Jaskier Whump week!

This is a week open to all kinds of ships, au’s, and prompts that deal with hurting our dear bard, Jaskier.

It’s finally back! After much contemplation, I’ve decided to open this up again! I’m so excited!!

This will take place on from January 8 - January 14 2023 !!.

Rules:

This story must center around Jaskier being Whumped or emotionally hurt.

THIS IS OPEN TO ALL FORMS OF MEDIA.

Ex: Written stories, art, edits, or videos

Ships of all kinds are welcome here! And don’t feel pressured to write a slash fic, gen fics are welcome too!

There are no word limits, so, write to your hearts content.

You are allowed to use all media that Jaskier is mentioned in ( The book series, the games, the Polish show, and the Netflix show).

It doesn’t have to be in Jasker’s POV, it can be in anyone's, but he must be the ‘main focus.’ He must be the one getting Whumped.

You can follow one of two prompts for that week day.

The prompt are open to interpretation.

NO CHARACTER BASHING

Post your stories under the hashtag #Jaskierwhumpweek

@jaskierwhumpweek on your posts so you can be re-blogged.

If these are uploaded to AO3, add the link. I will make a collection of the works gathered.

All endings are welcome, all archetypes are welcome!

Create to your hearts content!

Please do not hesitate to ask a question if you have it, I am more than happy to help.

PROMPTS:

Surrender or Sacrifice

Mourning or Flashback

Isolation or Humiliation

Good intention; bad result or Exhaustion

Grief or Hatred

Betrayal or Tears

Anxiety or Lashing out

HAVE FUN AND CREATE BEAUTIFUL WORKS!

[dancingwiththefae]

Love Be Brave

day 1 of @jaskierwhumpweek

Ship: Geraskefer (pre-relationship)

Prompt: Surrender

Tags: Graphic torture, angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 2.9k

Completed: yes

1/1

Summary: Jaskier is held captive and tortured for information on Geralt and Ciri. Geralt and Yennefer are on their way to rescue him, but not before his resolve finally breaks.

A/N: this probably would have worked for betrayal too but I have a different idea for that

Also on AO3

---------------------------------------

He couldn’t remember how long it had been since they brought him here. It couldn’t have been too long. A week maybe? More? He wasn’t sure. But in the never ending dark of the cell, it felt like forever. All the days blurred into one. Funny that, how quickly you lose your sense of time without the sun. He missed the sun. The light. The crisp air of a winter’s morning. It all felt so far away now. The door creaked open and the false light from the lamps crept in. Only to be blocked moments later by a man.

“Morning bard,” he greeted with cheer. It made him feel sick. “You know, I’m feeling generous today so, any requests?”

Jaskier pretended to ponder on the question a moment.

“A nap,” he ventured, “a jug of wine. And to fall into the arms of a beautiful woman.”

The man laughed an ugly laugh.

“Still full of jokes. Save it for Rience. He’s looking forward to your meeting today.”

“Oh, I’ve no doubt,” he whispered, staring down at the burns already decorating his skin. His hands were a lost cause. His fingers felt hot and tight, barely functional. The ropes around his wrists had rubbed the skin raw. And under his clothes, a litter of bruises and marks. They quickly learned that beatings got them nowhere. Jaskier had taken a punch from many angry spouses in his time. Now, they mostly did it for fun. They took what mattered most, his music. It would take a miracle for him to play again. Or, magic at least. Except the only magic user available was the one destroying him piece by piece. He hadn't broken. That was the most important thing. Though he was starting to lose sight of why it was so important.

The man hauled him up by his collar and dragged him out of the room. He pulled the bard through an all too familiar corridor and into a dark, empty room save for two chairs. Both were empty. Jaskier was shoved into the one in the centre of the room. He no longer fought back when they tied his hands and feet to it. He wasn't sure he had the strength to anyway. The man left and Jaskier was alone. He knew it wasn't going to be for long. It was the same every time. The door creaked open. Jaskier didn't need to look to know who it was.

“Hello, Jaskier,” Rience spoke in a soft voice, “are you ready to tell me where the witcher and the girl are?”

Jaskier let out a laugh that sounded more like a whimper.

“Where's the fun in that?”

His voice didn't match the confidence of his words. Rience chuckled at the sorry sight he must have made. Calmly he approached, not sparing another glance towards him. He took a seat in front of him, rested his chin in his hand and stared. The stillness of it unnerved him. The way he looked at him, like he was his favourite toy, brought him nothing but dread.

“Shall we get started?” Rience said after a while. Standing, he retrieved a poker from the edge of the room. Conjuring a flame, he ran his palm along it.

“Everytime you refuse to answer a question-” he pointed to hot end of the poker towards him with careless grace “-you will be punished. But I'm sure you know how it goes by now. So, where is the princess?”

The bard kept his mouth shut. In reality he wasn't sure where she was. He had never even met her. But he had a pretty good idea where Geralt would take her if he had her. Considering how desperate Rience and his company seemed for answers, Jaskier could only guess that that was the case. He didn't know everything, but he knew enough. The mage let the silence stretch on for a moment. When it continued too long he struck, pressing the poker against his side. The bard didn't hold back his cry. There was no shame in screaming. The poker was wrenched away with a cruel smile. The bard panted against the searing pain in his side.

“Where does the witcher go when they're not roaming the continent?”

More silence. Rience went for his shoulder this time. Pain lanced through him. More questions. More scars to add to his collection until he was drenched in sweat, gasping for air and praying to any god that would listen for a miracle. His will was only so strong. It was made all the worse by Rience's obvious enjoyment of his pain. The man knew how to cause pain, and he did it well. He took pleasure in it.

“Do you know why I do it this way,” he drawled, stepping in close to run his fingers through his hair in mock tenderness, “why I don’t just pull the answers I seek straight from your head?”

“Enlighten me,” he ground out.

Rience crouched down in front of him until they were face to face. Piercing eyes pinned his. When he spoke it was soft and with a smile.

“Because it’s more fun this way. Magic is too convenient. Yes, I could simply force my way into your mind and find everything I need. But what’s the fun in that? I don’t just want to complete my task. I want to watch you break”

Abruptly, he stood and stalked away, turning on his heel when he reached his usual place.

“Now, shall we try this again?”

It was the same as before. Jaskier held on with all the strength that he had left. Rience's resolve was breaking. After a few more attempts, the mage dropped the poker carelessly to the ground. His face twitched and he struggled to keep composure. He paced back and forth. Jaskier tried his best to keep his breathing even. It was getting harder to recover after his ‘meetings’ with Rience. It wouldn’t be long before he couldn’t at all, he knew. There was a part of him that wanted to give up. To just give them everything they want and pray to the gods that they would let him go. He pushed it down best he could.

Rience stopped. With an inquisitive hum he produced a white light from his hand. He looked back at the bard from over his shoulder. The fire in his eyes filled him with dread.

“Let’s make this more interesting.”

He strode across the room far too quickly. He knew it was futile and yet he still flinched back as if to get away.

Rience placed the palm on his hand on Jaskier’s forehead and suddenly he was struck with overwhelming pain. There was not a part of him it didn’t touch. Struggling against it was futile. It was everywhere. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He grit his teeth until they ached. Rience was going to kill him. He was sure of it. When he thought he couldn’t take it anymore it vanished.

The mage looked down at him with a smug grin as Jaskier tried to get air back into his lungs.

“You’re playing a losing game, bard,” Rience murmured, “I’m going to take what I want anyway.”

Panic began to set in. He couldn’t go through that again. He just couldn’t. But he couldn’t betray Geralt. If what Rience said was true - and he knew deep down that it was - he was going to betray him whether he wanted to or not. When he didn’t respond, the mage held his hand up once again. Tears stung his eyes. Jaskier opened his mouth and told him everything.

Shouting emerged from down the hall. The mage's eyes flitted towards the door. The commotion grew louder. With a huff, the mage stalked towards the door and left the room. With him gone, the adrenaline left Jaskier all at once. Slumping forwards in the chair, he suddenly felt exhausted. The world around him began to blur. He barely registered the pain anymore. His body felt heavy. He didn't want to fight the weight to keep himself up. Rushed footsteps echoed from down the hall, approaching closer. Rience reappeared through the door, heading straight towards him with fury. A ball of flame erupted from his hand. Jaskier didn't have time to panic. This was it. This was the end for him. The gravity of what he had just done settled in as soon as it happened.

The door burst open, startling them both. Geralt stood in the doorway, wild eyed and sword at the ready. The world seemed to stop for a moment as they locked eyes. He watched the witcher's face morph from shock to fury. Sword raised, he readied himself to fight. A portal opened before them and in a flash, Rience was gone. Jaskier stared at the space he had occupied in horror until white hair obscured it.

“Geralt,” he breathed. He couldn't quite believe it. Geralt was here. He had found him. He'd come to rescue him. But he didn't know. Oh gods, he didn't know. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” he wept, “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“Yen,” the witcher called, “he's in here.”

He cut through the ropes at his wrist with a knife.

“It's alright,” he soothed, “we're getting you out of here.”

“No, no. Stop,” Jaskier begged, “I- I told them everything. Rience, he knows. He knows where Ciri is. I'm so sorry.”

The witcher paused. His face was unreadable. Jaskier was sure – he was so sure – that Geralt would leave him. He wouldn't save him. Not after what he did. And he wouldn't blame him. Jaskier was an enemy now. He had betrayed his loyalty, his deepest trust. But then the witcher did something he didn't expect. He carried on.

“Doesn't matter. We can deal with it later.”

He bent down to cut through the ropes at his ankles. Jaskier wanted to ask what he was doing but the words wouldn't come. He could only watch, startled, as Geralt freed him. There was more crashing from outside and then Yennefer ran through the door, stopping in shock when she took in the sight in front of her.

“Fuck,” she swore.

“They know where Ciri is,” Geralt explained in a rush, “we have to get out of here.”

He held the bard from under his elbows and pulled him up to stand. Immediately, Jaskier's feet went from under him. The witcher's arms moved to encircle his middle. It was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Yen, open a portal. Now!”

He couldn't find the right way up. Everything was spinning. It was too much effort just to think. To try and move. He didn't want to fight it any more. He was done fighting. Letting himself drop into the weight that was holding him up, he surrendered to the darkness.

The world came back to him slowly. He was aware of aches throughout his body. Duller than they were before. He was covered by scratchy sheets. They brushed against his legs as he shifted. His eyelids felt heavy. He would drift back asleep if not for thirst making itself known. With immense effort he opened his eyes and blinked. The room was dark. Dark enough that he could almost be convinced he was back in his cell, if not for the bed he was currently occupying. A candle flickered alive on a table beside him and he flinched away.

“Sorry, sorry,” he heard a woman whisper. Her voice was familiar. Yennefer's face was illuminated in the candlelight. She moved it away from the bed and for that he was grateful.

“You're awake,” she said, “can I get you anything?”

“Water,” he whispered. Or tried to, at least. It was difficult to talk. She seemed to have understood anyway, and poured some out from a jug for him. With careful hands, she lifted his head enough to drink. She held the glass for him. He drank slowly until it was empty. Yennefer helped him back down and took the glass away.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him. How was he feeling? He wasn't sure. He hurt, his his limbs felt stiff. His hands were wrapped in bandages and basically useless. The guilt at what he had done ate away at him until there was a hollow in his chest. He was confused as to why he was here. Why Yennefer of all people was tending to him. It was so much all at once.

“Where are we?” he responded instead.

Yennefer chewed her lip. Her lack of response was deafening.

“Not Kaer Morhen,” he continued.

“No.”

Again, the silence stretched out.

“You won't tell me,” he concluded.

Her face screwed up in anguish or pity he couldn't tell.

“I'm sorry, Jaskier.”

“No,” he mumbled, “I understand.”

He really did, as much as it hurt. He had betrayed them. But, boy did it hurt. He had always prided himself on his loyalty. And now they couldn't trust him.

“Hey.” She cupped his cheek and tilted his head to look at her. “When you're healed, we're gonna move to another safe place. We'll stick together. All of us.”

“Why?” He felt tears sting his eyes. “I told him everything.”

“Jaskier, you were tortured. Nobody blames you for giving in.”

Confronted with everything that had happened, he couldn't hold back any more. Tears flowed freely. She held him silently while he wept. Once it had started, there was no stopping. Everything he had pent up since he had been taken by them. All the strength he had used to keep himself together. He let it go. Finally, he let it go. He cried and cried until there was no more left to give. Still, Yennefer held him. Kept him close while his breathing evened out. He pulled away first, wiping the tears from his face. That was when he noticed his sleeves were different to what they were before. He realised he was wearing different clothes and he was relatively clean, all things considering.

“Did you...bathe me?”

“You smelled worse than a sewer,” Yennefer laughed, “but don't worry. We were very gentle.”

Jaskier felt his cheeks flame at that. Any other time and he would have made a comment of fished for compliments. Or even openly expressed how he wished for their hands on him again. Quietly, he wished for it. It had been so long since he had felt a kind touch and he wasn't even conscious for it.

“What about...” He checked down his shirt at the marks Rience had left. They looked old, as if they had happened months ago.

“Do you underestimate my abilities?” she joked. There was an uneasy edge to it.

“And my hands? Are they-” he couldn't finish the sentence. The idea that there was permanent damage was too great to even contemplate. The sorceress sighed a weary sigh.

“They will... take time. But I'm working on it. Can't have a bard without his lute, can we?”

The thought almost made him cry again. He stared down at his bandaged hands. He couldn't do much like this. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to need taken care of. He didn't doubt Yennefer's abilities. Not for a second. He just hoped this was not one thing too many.

“You should try and get some more sleep.”

She pulled away from him and made to leave.

“Don't go.” He didn't mean to sound so desperate. A sudden wave of panic at the thought of being alone took over. He reached out with a bandaged hand to stop her until he remembered how useless they were now. The sorceress sighed and gently coaxed him into the middle of the bed. She lifted the covers and climbed in next to him. The bard didn't hesitate to curl up into her. He was so tired. A kind of tiredness that had settled into his bones. His body ached. If he were in a better frame of mind, he would probably have been embarrassed by his actions He buried his face into her neck. The scent of lilac and gooseberries was strongest here. He breathed deeply and relaxed into it.

He wanted to sleep. His body cried out for it. But when he closed his eyes, he was hit with images of Rience, of that place, of himself giving in. He was too exhausted to cry. Yennefer sensed his unease.

“You want Geralt, too?” she asked.

Jaskier nodded into her shoulder.

“I'll let him know,” she whispered.

A few moments later, the door opened and Geralt appeared a the foot of the bed. Jaskier buried his face back into Yennefer quickly. He didn't want to see if the witcher looked at him with pity. Before Geralt could speak, Yennefer held up a hand to stop him.

“We'll talk in the morning. For now-” she waved her hand towards the other side of the bed “-Jaskier needs us.”

The bed dipped behind him as Geralt cautiously climbed in behind him. He shuffled in further until he was pressed up against the bard's back. Though the witcher was being careful of Jaskier's injuries, the weight against his back settled him. He felt safe between then. Safe in a way he hadn't felt in a long time. He listened to the steady breathing between them, felt the soft rise and fall of their chests against him, and quietly slipped into sleep.

[whumpypepsigal]

The Witcher s03e08: “I couldn’t protect [Ciri].”

+bonus:

[awaywithwitchers]

y'all I am frothing at the mouth, you have no idea how excited I am to start posting my christmas fics

[leventart-den]

I can't get the thought out of my head that.. One day Jaskier somehow gets into that other world of Wild Hunt and time flows differently there. A few months pass here, and years there. And how he survived all this time changes him a lot. I really want a wild, feral Jaskier who doesn't even remember how to speak humanly but is able to defeat any witcher. And now Geralt, Yen, Ciri and the rest must re-teach him to live among people and behave normally. 👀

Gods, give me time, I want to draw a wild Jaskier. 😖