#Geralt whump

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Geralt is cursed to have his internal monologue visible on his face.

Of course, Jaskier finds him and questions the bag over his head.

*Bag falls off* Geralt: "shIT-" *quickly puts it back on* Jaskier: "What did that say??? 'I love...'?" Geralt: "ROACH. I love ROACH. AND ONLY ROACH. NOBODY ELSE. THERE'S NOBODY I WANNA THROW OVER A TABLE AT AN INN AND FUCK UNTIL HE CRIES. NOBODY I WANNA MARRY IN THE SPRING. NOBODY." Jaskier: "..........Geralt, darling, are you feeling alright?????"

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Purring Bonus Scene - Part 2

Jaskier grew used to hearing Geralt purr. He purred when they were sitting by the campfire after a good meal. He purred when he had a quiet moment to sit in the sun. He purred when Jaskier was able to convince him to let him rub his back. He purred when he was able to soak in a hot bath after a hunt. And he purred as he lay in bed or on his bedroll, listening to Jaskier quietly work on one of his songs.

He purred when he was happy, so it confused Jaskier when the bard heard him make a sudden, short purr while they were in a crowded market. There were people everywhere, talking, laughing, haggling, and singing. Jaskier was loving all the activity and bustle. There was so much to see, and so many people to talk to.

Geralt started to get uncomfortable. There were too many f***ing people. They were too f***ing close. There was too much f***ing noise. There was just too much going on. He wanted to leave. Now. But they also needed supplies.

A man jostled him by accident, bumped by another market goer, and Geralt made a noise...

Jaskier looked at Geralt when he heard him purr suddenly. The Witcher was glaring at a man who was very quickly stammering appologies and trying to disappear into the crowd.

What the h*ll...?

That purr hadn't sounded like his regular purr. It was deep and rolling. And if Jaskier hadn't had such a good ear for sounds, he would have thought Geralt was growling or 'Hmm' ing threateningly.

Geralt had growled at people before. It was very useful as a warning to stay away, to scare most common folk away, and to express annoyance.

Jaskier had been on the receiving end of a growl several times when his chatter got on Geralt's nerves.

Geralt had been growling at people all morning. They had been bumped and jostled several times already, and Jaskier figured that Geralt was starting to reach the end of his patience.

But that purr concerned him.

He noticed the way Geralt shifted restlessly, pupils dilating slightly as he met his eye, throat working to hold back another purr. Something was wrong. Geralt never purred in public.

Jaskier switched to using Handspeak. He held one hand out, palm up, and shook it horizontally, then curled his fingers into a fist, leaving his thumb and pinky extended, then tapped the sign against his chin.

(What's wrong?)

(I want to leave.) *weird purr with visible effort to cut it off*

(Trouble?)

Geralt's movements were stiff, (No, I just...) *more weird purring* (Let's just go-!)

A man stumbled and bumped into him just then, and Jaskier saw Geralt barely keep himself under control. Geralt ugly growled but managed to keep his arms at his sides when he really wanted to shove the man across the square.

"My apologies, Master Witcher!" The man stammered, clutching his cap and backing away as Geralt gave him a severe scowl. Other people were now giving them wide berth and eyeballing them nervously.

Geralt huffed and twitched his head, signalling for the man to go. The man backed away, bobbing his head in a storm of frantic apologetic bowing that made him look like a nervous pigeon.

Jaskier lightly touched Geralt's arm, feeling him bristle, then relax. He was now looking at every movement, turning at every sound, constantly scenting the air. It clicked: Geralt was overstimmulated. It was time to go.

(Let's go back to the inn.)

*suppressed weird purr and a curt nod*

They had hurried back to the inn, Jaskier leading Geralt through the less crowded parts of the market. Geralt had gone up to their room, closed the curtains and curled up on the bed. He pulled the blanket over himself, then started purring. Geralt closed his eyes and focused on the rythmic sound of it, of the steady vibration, and let it slowly chase away the tightness in his chest.

The sound of Geralt's purring was kind of relaxing. Jaskier found it interesting that this Distressed Purr sounded different than Geralt's Happy Purr. It gave his brain an odd sensation. If he closed his eyes, the sound almost made him feel like he was rocking or swaying.

He realized that this deep, rolling purr was Geralt's way of self-soothing. He wondered if it was the equivalent of an extremely distressed human rocking themselves. The thought bothered him. How many times had Geralt done this in his years on the Path alone? How many times had laid in his bedroll, or in a bed at an inn, alone and Distress purring?

Jaskier sat on the edge of the bed, then hesitantly started rubbing Geralt's shoulder. When Geralt didn't pull away or growl at him, he slowly laid down and cuddled up against his back.

Jaskier heard the purr get a little quieter after a few minutes.

After about an hour Geralt's purr dropped off and he got up to putter around the room. He was looking a little bit better. Less like he was five seconds away from biting someone.

Jaskier let him stay in the room while he returned to the market for the rest of their supplies. Niether one of them ever mentioned the incident.

From then on, Jaskier did his best to keep an eye on Geralt when they went anywhere with crowds. He was good at reading people, and he started paying more attention to Geralt's subtle signs of discomfort. When he noticed the Witcher start getting restless, Jaskier would do whatever he needed to do to give his friend some breathing room.

Or just flat out help him get the f**k out of where ever they were so Geralt could find a quiet place to Distress purr until he felt better. Eventually, Jaskier became very good at helping Geralt completely avoid those situations without him even realizing what was happening.

And Geralt didn't just purr like that when he was overstimmulated. Jaskier heard him purr like that several times when the people of a town had been less than friendly towards him. Oh, he tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, but his purr said otherwise.

Jaskier usually gave him his space, and busied himself on the other side of camp, pretending he couldn't hear him. If Geralt started looking too gloomy, the bard would casually wander over and hand him a mug of tea. Jaskier would then wordlessly drape a blanket around Geralt's shoulders.

He reasoned that since Witchers had several cat-like qualities, that surely they would like to be warm like cats did. He would then sit close beside Geralt, because cats liked to cuddle. It worked most of the time. Geralt would get all warm from the tea, and he would relax. His purr would change from Distressed to Happy as he would start to doze off, leaning on Jaskier...

[icarustica]

⁠♡ wip wednesday

summary: angsty, whumpy, no real resolution, 700ish words

♡♡♡

“You will do what you are told!” shouted Geralt. 

“There it is,” Jaskier said quietly, stepping back, leaves crunching under his foot. The forest was quiet as he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. The silence was suddenly deafening, the peace in the dappled light of the forest like an unwelcome, scratchy blanket.

Geralt’s breath came short and fast in his chest, a rabbit’s pace that matched the speed of his heart. “What?”

“I will do what I’m told,” chuckled Jaskier. He flickered between Geralt’s eyes like he was searching for something. “I really am your whore, huh? For everything except… well, except whoring.”

Geralt blinked, anger rising up in him again. “I don’t–”

“If not, then one step above,” Jaskier snapped suddenly, fire flaring back up in his eyes. “You know nothing of friendship. Friendship is not this, this…” he spluttered for a moment. “Weighted give and take. I give you everything, Geralt, my care, my coin, my humiliation, all for what? A couple of songs? I could write a dozen ditties about the Countess and be brimming with riches within the week.”

Geralt’s face heated. He’d pondered that before, how attractive the thought of running off to some noble must seem to Jaskier, being surrounded by lovely adorers every minute, draped in fancy clothes and fed with all the fruit and meat he desired. How dismal travelling with Geralt must seem compared to that reachable paradise. 

“You think saving me from your monsters is payment,” Jaskier spat. “And perhaps it is. For playing at bars where every drunk blacksmith paws at me like a whore just to pay for our meals.”

Geralt flinched.

“And maybe your protection covers the work I’ve done to fix your reputation,” he continued, eyes blazing. “And if we’re being generous, it probably also covers the beatings I’ve taken for what I couldn’t fix.” 

Beatings. Geralt had never thought… sometimes Jaskier would come back from a night somewhere away from their shared room covered with bruises and stumbling like a drunk. Oh, I just found a convenient ditch to rest my head in for the night, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Lying. He’d been lying. 

“But what your protection does not cover, Geralt,” Jaskier snapped, “is the things I have paid to earn your friendship instead. Cleaning your armour. Stitching your wounds. Buying you things at the market just to cheer you up.”

Geralt swallowed. He opened his mouth.

Jaskier’s eyebrow quirked up, a challenge.

He shut it again. It was unfair, asking him to battle words with Jaskier, a man who played with them for a living. Especially when he couldn’t figure out the feelings to inspire the words in the first place. 

“The witcher’s whore,” Jaskier repeated quietly, like he was testing the words in his mouth or telling a story. “Does what he’s told.”

Geralt stepped closer, growling under his breath. "Stop."

Jaskier would have normally backed down. De-escalated things with a joke, but today his chin jutted upward. Today fire brimmed in those blue eyes. "Yes sir," he bit out.

“Jaskier," he warned.

"General Geralt, sir," he continued. "My most excellent warlord!"

"Stop."

"Oh great Butcher-"

Something snapped, the words torn out of him: "Fucking stop!"

“Oh, yes, master,” mocked Jaskier, equally as loud, hand flourishing like he was about to bow.

Geralt’s face heated even more, helpless anger clawing at him. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong - the skin on his body, the woods crashing with wind around them. “Jaskier, I am not your master, you are not my whore, I–”

“You like it,” he snarled, bitter like gin. “You like being the man in charge, the martyr at the head of the battle. So much responsibility, and oh, only you can bear it.”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier snapped down into a full bow, hand across his pleated red chest. “Yes, sir! Am I dismissed, sir?”

“Stop it.”

“Yes sir, of course sir,” he mocked, looking to the ground as if chastised. 

Geralt let out a frustrated growl, somewhere between a cry of anguish and a sob.

“Shall I clean your boots, sir?” Jaskier snapped, eyes glinting through his hair as he looked up, still half-bent into a bow. “Your armour? Shall I find you another whore to spend the night with?”

Geralt marched forward, vibrating with anger. “Fucking stop,” he growled, close to shouting. “Just– just stop–”

“Apologies, sir, I’ll do better, shall I take your belt for lashings?”

“Fucking hell, Jaskier!” Geralt grabbed his shoulders, determined to shake out whatever the fuck was making him talk that way. 

Jaskier pulled his collar into his hands and kissed him.

Geralt had good reflexes and bad instincts. He pressed into it without a moment’s hesitation, drowning in Jaskier’s scent, the feeling of his soft lips opening to him, the warmth of his body pressed against his own.

Jaskier broke it, leaning back only an inch. “There,” he whispered. “Now you can take that from me too.”

♡♡♡

I'll probably never finish this, but i like where it was going!

⁠♡icarus

[astaldis]

For the Whumptober prompts 9 "Bruises", 10 "Slurred words"/"Passing out from pain", 12 "Underground caverns"

Chapters: 3/?        Words: 1,966 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Geralt of Rivia & The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members, Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy, Maria Barring | Milva, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach Additional Tags: Friendship, The Hansa | Geralt's Company, Protective Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is Missing Summary: While the Hansa is on their journey searching for the druids of Caed Dhu, Jaskier goes missing. Geralt is worried, very worried. 

[geraskierficrecs]

New Story Alert!

I caved and started a new two-shot story featuring a very feral bard.  Enjoy the whump and angst.

Check out the first chapter here.

Teaser:

Priscilla huffed out an aggrieved sounding sigh that made him smile faintly up at the green leaves above him.  “I still don’t think this was a good idea,” she said, repeating an old argument.  “You’re too exposed out there.  Especially now that–”

The clumsy attempt at cutting herself off before she completed the thought was enough to pique Jaskier’s interest.  “Now that what?”

“It’s nothing.”

“Don’t be coy.”

“You don’t want to know about it,” she said.  “That’s what you asked for.  A disconnect.”

There was only one topic Jaskier had sworn to avoid and the thought of it, of him made the smile drop like a stone from his face.  He closed his eyes and forced his breathing to remain steady, knowing Priscilla was like logging every change in his voice.  “Is he hurt?”

The image of Geralt lying dead and abandoned was the sort of madness that inspired his darkest nightmares.  They were the nightmares that left Jaskier shaking and hollow eyed for days afterward.

“He’s…” she sighed, the sound staticky over the cheap phone speakers.  “We don’t know.”

“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?”

The illusion of control was crumbling in his grip like grains of sand.  He lost his battle against the panic threatening to overwhelm him and let it roll over him in waves, searching for the colder emotions lurking beneath the surface.  Anger.  Rage.  Vengeance.

Priscilla’s voice spoke over the thundering of his heartbeat in his ears.  “He went missing two weeks ago.  We haven’t been able to make contact with him.”

“Two weeks?” he repeated.  “Why wasn’t I informed?”

“You’re out,” she said.  “You gave up your chance to be informed.”

[kaciart]

Day 13 It's just a pebble: Avalanche / Stuck in the mountains / “Well, this wasn't how I thought the hiking trip would go.”

-

Patreon | Ko-Fi

[grymwolfen]

And the fact that he goes to put his lute down gently, then what he's seeing really hits him. The lute just drops from his fingers in his sudden horror/distraction. My heart.

Jaskier seeing Geralt injured.. he started crying and everything 😭

[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

[blooms-in-april]

"Here."

Jaskier looks up from his lute to see Eskel holding the reins of a horse so beautiful it looks like a pearlescent moon.

"She's for you." Eskel says.

Jaskier moves as if in a dream, taking the reins of the albino mare. Eskel continues, the words flowing.

"She was a steal, blemished. Someone cut her deep in the head and sides. But I thought you'd find that romantic, you know. Make a wounded unicorn out of her marks. And you need a horse and you like pretty things. It made sense to me."

The chords of his throat knot, cut short. Jaskier draws his fingers through the white mare's mane, lute callouses catching on hair white as snow. He picks at a stuck burr and his heart clenches with the familiarity of the movement .

"Why couldn't it have been you?" He says.

Eskel stops abruptly. There is something wild and despairing in the bards voice, a reclamation of destiny.

"Why couldn't it have been you I met in Posada all those years ago?" Jaskier says. "Where were you twenty years ago? Where were you ten? Where were you when I was young and green and full of music?Of course I meet you now,"

He laughs, and there is no melody in it.

"Of course I meet you now, when I am full and sick of loving. You would have been- kind, when you finally sent me away. You would have killed it quickly, killed the dream quiet and fast, in my sleep, like a horse with a broken leg too weak to stand."

[whumpypepsigal]

The Witcher s03e03: “[Your mother] loved you the best she could. To save you, she had to let you go.”—“This can’t have been the only choice.”

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 60

For completing an especially hard contract, Geralt is given a present from the fae. "Your perfect love", they call it. When Jaskier is shoved toward him, Geralt wishes he could say he was surprised. Geralt quickly gains his shock back, however, when upon his bard speaking, he finds he has been completely drained of his personality. Jaskier speaks as concisely and directly as possible, with no embellishment or flowering of his words - Hell, he doesn't even speak with emotion or tone in his voice. Geralt demands to know what they've done to Jaskier, only for the fae to teleport them out. Geralt goes from mage to mage, sorcerer to sorcerer, healer to healer, priest to priest, hoping desperately that someone, anyone, can revert Jaskier back to himself. Jaskier no longer sings. He barely talks. He doesn't wander off, or dance in place, or reach out to Geralt. His eyes have even dulled in color, now a blank gray, always looking hazy and glossed over. Nobody can heal Jaskier. Or so it seeems! I love happy endings SO two options (or any you come up with but you know what I mean) Option 1: Geralt marches back to the Fae's woods and demands they speak to him, as they've disrespected him by not giving him his prize for completing their contract those months ago. When they bring him in, affronted at the idea of what he is implying, they are shocked when he berates them for at least a full hour over how much he loves the traits his bard once had that they had thought he found annoying. "So you never gave me my perfect love." He finishes. They all converse for a moment, before nodding. "It seems we underestimated you, Witcher. We apologize for the misconception." And thank the gods, Jaskier slumps in place and looks to Geralt with bright blue eyes. "Geralt? Wh- What's going on?" Only to then be kicked out of the fae realm again. Oh well. At least Jaskier was cured. Option 2: TRUE LOVE'S KISS BABBYYYYYYYYYY

[oonoturna]

Another old drawing… in this one, Jaskier… and his White Wolf.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Purring Bonus Scene - Part 3

Jaskier helped Geralt lie down on his bedroll, trying his best to keep him steady so he wouldn't jostle the shoulder he'd recently dislocated, or tear open the fresh stitches in his belly.

There had only been two bandits, but Geralt had already been exhausted and injured from the fight with the Gryphon, and one of the bandits had gotten lucky. Briefly. Before Jaskier had gone feral and taken him to pieces.

The wounds had been easy enough to take care of. The belly wound hadn't been too deep, and Geralt had spent one winter teaching Jaskier how to do joint adjustments. Jaskier had expertly reduced the dislocated shoulder in a matter of seconds.

Jaskier covered Geralt with the blanket, listening to his I'm Hurt purr to try to guage how much pain he was in. The purr was loud. A frantic, thrumming from deep in the Witcher's chest. It wasn't the loudest Jaskier had ever heard him purr, but it was loud enough to suggest that Geralt was in a significant amount of pain.

Geralt slowly rolled onto his side, curling up as much as he could under the blanket. Jaskier had tucked him back in a quiet corner of the small cave they had made camp in.

Geralt's first instinct, when wounded was to find a safe place to hide while he recovered. The cave was perfect.

Pain radiated in a throbbing burn in his shoulder, and the stab wound in his belly sharply reminded him it was there with every breath. He purred while Jaskier boiled water for some tea to help with the pain. He'd already taken a potion to counteract the toxicity, and the purring was helping to ease some of the pain.

Jaskier spoke quietly sometime later, and lightly touched his leg to get his attention. He helped him drink the bitter-tasting tea, then laid him back down. The bard checked on him periodically throughout the night. He could hear when the painkillers in the tea started to do their job. The Hurt purr became less frantic sounding, and a little quieter.

Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief when the sound trailed off to a normal exhausted snore. He continued the pain management plan as Geralt healed. He knew Geralt was getting better when he started refusing the tea. The belly wound certainly healed faster than it would have had Geralt been human.

Geralt had always pulled through after being injured. Jaskier knew he would be alrght, even if he didn't have any Swallow handy. As long as he was purring, he was healing. But there was one time that he seriously feared that Geralt wouldn't make it.

Vilgefortz had left Geralt crippled and in excruciating pain. Triss had found him and taken him to Brokilon and begged the dryads for their help. She'd gone and brought Jaskier and Yennefer, knowing they would want to be with Geralt.

It had been the most terrifying thing Jaskier had ever been through. The dryads had used their herbs to heal Geralt, but it had taken over a month. 36 days of listening to Geralt rave and scream while the herbs did their work. Jaskier had been a mess by the end.

The raving had gotten to him. Yennefer had tried to keep up her calm demeanor, trying to banter with Jaskier to keep him distracted. Had tried to get him to walk through the woods with her (where he couldn't hear Geralt raving) for a few hours every day, and to take care of Roach.

It had worked at first. The bard's frayed nerves had calmed, and he had even started playing his lute every once in a while. But as the days started to march on with no sign of Geralt coming out of the healing magic, the more distraught Jaskier became.

Yennefer couldn't blame him. She'd never seen Geralt so seriously wounded. And even though he had accelerated healing ability as a Witcher, she had no idea how long it would normally take him to heal from such severe injuries.

Jaskier had looked at Yennefer with fear in his eyes one evening, when Geralt's raving had gotten particularly loud.

"Yen...do you-!" Yennefer knew he was going to spew some nonsense about Geralt dying. He never had trusted healers or magical rememdies, unless Yennefer was the one doing the healing or making the remedy.

"Don't be ridiculous!"

"But...he's not even purring,"

Yennefer rolled her eyes as if exasperated. She knew the bard was worried that Geralt was in too much pain to purr. She had found Jaskier's theory that Geralt purred to heal himslef quite intersting. And there did seem to be some merit to the theory.

"Oh stop your whining! You act as if the dryads don't know their business!" One of Geralt's screams ripped throuh the air, and Jaskier cringed, hugging himself reflexively. He'd looked at Yennefer, his eyes suddenly wet.

Oh, no... Yennefer thought. She had a suspicion of what was coming. Please don't!

Jaskier pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes as Geralt screamed again, and his breath hitched as he whimpered brokenly, "yEn...!"

Ah, F**K! Yennefer thought, D*mned Voice Crack!

"Julian..." Yen began, her tone vague. It could have been a warning, it could have been sympathy. Not even she was certain.

The bard flinched when she used his name, trembling and making a choked off keening sound.

The witch sighed quietly and Soft!Yennefer was there, taking one of Jaskier's wists and tugging him towards her. "Come here, you foolish little thing,"

Jaskier broke down into hiccuping sobs when Yennefer pulled him against her. "Shhhh. Hush now, Songbird. He's going to be alright!" Yennefer murmured, her hand rubbing his back.

"He's hurting, Yen!" Jaskier cried, holding on to the witch tightly.

"But he's healing. The dryads are healing him. Look at me, Lark," Yennefer pulled away, cupping the bard's tear-stained cheeks in her hands, "Do you trust me?"

Jaskier sniffled and nodded, "Of course I trust you, Yen..."

"Then trust me when I say that Geralt will be alright. The dryads know their magic. They know what they are doing. They wouldn't have agreed to help if they didn't think they could heal him."

She wiped the tears off his cheeks and let him put his head back on her shoulder. "I'm worried about that a**hole, too," she admitted, surreptitiously using his shirt to dry the tears that had gathered in her own eyes. "But I've spoken with the dryads, and they assure me that he's healing well. They say he should be fully healed any day now. And then we can both lecture him the whole way back to Vengerberg."

Geralt woke several days later, wounds completely healed, and spent two more days resting before he was allowed to leave Brokilon. Jaskier and Yennefer had been too relieved to even pretend they were angry with him. At least for the first few hours.

After that, Geralt was kind of wishing he could go back to being a motionless, raving plank. Anything would have been better than the nearly two day long lecture that he had to listen to.

Even Roach was mad at him.

The dryads had asked Geralt why his wives were so upset with him. Geralt had been caught off guard by the question, but Yennefer and Jaskier could never let an opportunity for a good joke go to waste. The bard and the witch had played along.

Jaskier was, after all, a performer. And a Drama Kid never half-a**es things.

Had he gone a little overboard? Maybe. Had it been worth it? Absolutely.

Yennefer had been impressed. And had gleefully added fuel to the fire.

On the third day, the dryads hand given them food, wished Geralt luck with his 'wives' (who were now only mildly annoyed with him) and saw them out of the forest.

Yennefer had portaled them to Vengerberg, and a few hours later, Geralt was sitting at the table in Yennefer's house. He shoveled down whatever she put in front of him, eating like a starving wolf, and then stretched out on the bed, Happy purring until he fell asleep to the sound of Jaskier and Yennefer bantering...

[heytheredeann]

For @vortexoffate

[astaldis]

@whumpril​

Chapters: 2/3    Words: 3,256 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Geralt of Rivia, Angoulême   Additional Tags: whumpster-dumpster's Whumpril 2024, chaos-company's Angstpril 2024, Head Injury, Blood and Injury, Spoilers for The Tower of the Swallow, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach Whump, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach Has a Bad Time, swaying, Cry for help, Geralt's knee injury, Limping, Dizziness, Trust Issues, drained, panicked, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Whump

Summary: The fighting in Belhaven does not go well for Geralt and his companions. Cahir is injured and they have to flee. (The scene from The Tower of the Swallows chapter 6 told mostly from Cahir's POV, but also some Geralt POV.)

Inspired by Angstpril and Whumpril prompts.

[geraskierficrecs]

Completed Fic!

Check out the final part of the feral Jaskier story, Searching in the Shadows here.

Teaser:

“Geralt.”  The word was half horror, half hope.

As soon as he reached the final cell on the hallway, he knew this must be where Rience had kept Geralt.  There were several additional locks added to the outside of the door and the viewing window was locked so no one could open it.  Jaskier pulled the gun from his waistband and checked that the safety was off before slowly tapping the door pad.  There was a cheerful beep before it opened with a soft creak.

The inside of the cell was better lit than the others and hummed faintly from the halogen lighting.  It made it easy to make out the various pieces of medical equipment along the walls and the tray of abandoned surgical tools.  Several vials of blood were neatly labeled and placed inside of a small refrigerator on the counter, indicating what Rience must have been using Geralt for.

At the center of it all was a stainless steel operating table where an unmoving Witcher lay chained into place.  They’d removed most of his clothing and Jaskier could see the way he was shivering faintly in the damp chill.  It allowed Jaskier to make out the various stitched up cuts and abrasions left behind by Rience’s people even with the help of a Witcher’s healing abilities.  His eyes fluttered beneath closed lids as his chest rose and fell in an unsteady, erratic tempo.