#dagger yapping into the void

[midoalan]

*slams fist on table* we as a society should discuss plans how to get through this alan mido drought

[wordsablaze]

Into The Unknown

Yennefer has never been particularly fond of djinns but she doesn't entirely hate them until they cause trouble for Jaskier a second time... day fifteen of whumptober.

A/N: last whumpskier fic, getting halfway is enough for this year !! today’s pairing: yennefer/jaskier | prompts used: possession / magical healing

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Djinns are far more trouble than they’re worth.

Rinde had been a good example but Yennefer doesn’t truly accept it as a concrete truth until she comes across another one that also causes a small disaster. Or rather, until Jaskier comes across another one.

She hadn’t actually meant to run into him but she’s not complaining when she hears him start playing a song he’d written about her because, well, it’d simply be rude to ignore that gesture of good faith. Not that they need anything as flimsy as good faith to keep them together.

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” Jaskier drawls as he settles beside her.

She smirks. “I know. Shame I can’t return the compliment.”

And for once, she almost means that. He seems to have taken a leaf out of Geralt’s book and dressed himself entirely in black and white, a bright shirt nestled in between dark breeches and an even darker doublet that matches his pointed boots.

Any other time, she might have just been teasing because she won’t lie when she says he can pull the look off just as well as their mutual friend, but there’s something wrong with his outfit, something that has her on edge.

“Have you taken some sort of potion?” She asks, wondering why he seems to be radiating chaos.

He just winks. “Something like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” And with that, he slips away, slotting himself into a conversation a few tables away.

Yennefer stares after him for a moment, shocked. That’s not the way their reunions usually go and she most certainly will not stand for being left behind. Briskly, she follows, grabs Jaskier’s arm, and pulls him outside with a glare. “Are you drunk? Or have you perhaps lost those stupid marbles you keep yapping about?”

Jaskier lazily grins at her. “None of the above, Yennefer of Vengerberg. I’m simply enjoying the options that have been made available to me.”

A horrible feeling settles in her gut; he never calls her by her full name unless they’re trying to bamboozle someone into doing something for them and he always vows that she is his best option. “What have you done recently that involves chaos?” she demands.

He chuckles. “You haven’t sensed it yet? My, he might have been wrong about your power after all…”

“He?” Yennefer echoes.

Jaskier points at his own forehead before raising an eyebrow. As she watches, he blinks and his eyes darken from familiar blue to brown, to black, to all but a pair of empty voids.

She gasps but before she can do anything, he winks and smoke fills the air around her. By the time she stops coughing enough to curse, he’s gone. Both him and whatever it is using him as a puppet.

A quick round of questioning inside the tavern tells her Jaskier has spent the last week entertaining a vast range of people in a vast range of ways and she almost winces when she finds out because she knows the stupid bard will feel awful and apologise far too much when he’s back to normal.

It’s not particularly hard to follow the trail of chaos but it is painful when she remembers that Jaskier’s strange morals are going to give him an extremely hard time over the broken hearts, small fires, impossible promises, and handful of slaughtered animals that he’s left in his wake.

She finds him at the edge of town, running his tongue along a dagger.

“Who are you and what are you doing with him?” Yennefer demands immediately, waving her hand and sending the dagger flying into a nearby tree before Jaskier loses his tongue.

Jaskier smiles at her but it’s all wrong, cold and crooked instead of his usual warm expressions. It doesn’t help that his eyes are still awfully empty. “Ever so direct, I appreciate that. And he does too, he’s truly quite devoted to you…”

A strange mix of anger and affection rushes through her blood at the words but she doesn’t dwell on it, raising an eyebrow as chaos crackles along her arms. “Get out of him before I make you.”

“We both know that’s going to be rather agonising,” he says, but then his eyes glint. “Unless of course, you don’t. Haven’t you figured out what I am yet?”

She hadn’t, but she catches sight of Jaskier’s hands again - of the blackened fingertips and tendrils of what look like smoke running along his fingers, past his wrists and up his arms -  and it’s abruptly all too obvious.

“Of course I have. I’d recognise the work of djinns anywhere,” she hisses.

Jaskier smiles, pulling another dagger out of nowhere and twirling it in his hands, something that would be beautiful if he were in control of himself. “Then you know that forcing me to leave would be interfering with a wish and might lead to… well, consequences.”

“I don’t care what he said, this can’t be what he meant,” Yennefer scoffs.

That awful smirk returns as he holds the new dagger against his own neck, her magic doing nothing to cast it aside this time. “Oh, it wasn’t him. Just an interested party.”

She’s going to murder whoever it was when she finds them.

She doesn’t particularly want to force the djinn out of him because he’s right - she doesn’t know what could happen if things turn sour- but she can’t let this go since she has no idea what the wish was and how badly it’s going to hurt Jaskier if she lets it play out.

“We’ve done a lot of singing recently but I think I’ve had enough of his voice, haven’t you?” Jaskier asks, his expression full of innocence as he presses the blade into his skin without even flinching.

“No!” she yells, freezing the djinn’s intentions by stopping Jaskier’s hand, cursing when she’s met with more resistance than she’d expected.

“One of us is going to kill him!” Jaskier shouts, but his voice is deep, layered, not his own.

“Over my dead body!” Yennefer snarls back, tugging on Jaskier’s presence and pushing against the djinn, letting herself scream as she fights it, forcing herself to keep going even as Jaskier’s screams join her own.

She doesn’t stop until she sees his eyes fade from nothings into the blue she’s grown rather fond of over the years, until she feels smoke dissolve around them as the dagger clatters to the floor. Unfortunately, Jaskier also slumps to the floor.

Pushing aside her own desire to do the same, she hurriedly kneels beside him, cursing again when she sees his newly-acquired necklace of blood. His eyes meet hers, wide and terrified as he coughs up red, spluttering on the liquid that spills over his lips.

“Oh no you don’t,” Yennefer hisses, placing her hands around his neck.

He panics initially, his hands weakly scrabbling against hers, but the shock in his expression melts into sheer relief as she starts willing his skin to heal. She can tell it hurts because his hands tighten around her wrists and a soft, broken whimper escapes him but, like before, she simply keeps going.

It takes longer than she’d like for her to undo the djinn’s damage but when she’s sure he’s not going to bleed out or lose his voice, she pulls her hands away, wasting a little more magic getting rid of the blood on her hands because for reasons she doesn’t care to decipher, she hates the very sight of it.

Jaskier groans when his neck finally finishes weaving itself together and Yennefer has one of her rare moments of regret because although the bard will never complain about her magically healing him, she knows it can sometimes hurt to undo an injury just as much as it did to acquire it.

“I’m so sorry,” Jaskier rasps eventually, and Yennefer’s almost surprised to see he’s crying.

She slips her hand into his, gently squeezing. “You don’t need to be, not for this.”

“But I-”

“Don’t argue with me,” Yennefer interrupts, but not unkindly. She doesn’t have enough strength to sound bitter anyway.

Jaskier sighs before letting his head fall back on the floor as he lifts his free hand to his neck, a small sob slipping past his still-stained lips. For all the emotions he cycles through, he doesn’t cry often, and Yennefer despises it when he does because it hurts her too. Gods, she really hates all these feelings sometimes.

She shifts, pulling his head into her lap and brushing his tears away with her thumb. “It’s okay, Jaskier, it wasn’t your wish.” It wasn’t your fault.

He squeezes her hand, curling into her with a jagged sigh. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice nothing like it usually is but still beautiful purely because he still has it, because the djinn’s master had failed to take it away from him, from them.

They’ll deal with the rest of the chaos later because neither of them want to move and good company can often be a surprisingly skilled healer.

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so yeah, it’s been fun but life is busy and i’m gonna end this lil series here !! i have a lot of WIPs to work on anyway :p

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thanks for reading! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier

[syrahnbloodfeather]

The Dagger in the Dark Pt 1: Two Captains, One Carriage

At last once the sun had risen high enough over the woodlands to the east, and the Amber Glade had stirred from their beds, Syrahn was ready to face the great houses. She hadn’t slept a wink since she sent Lady Kaevia that letter; the threat of assassins looming around every corner and hiding behind every blade of grass kept her emotionally drained and physically exhausted. But the whispers hadn’t haunted her since the sun came up, giving her a blissful rest from the voices at the edge of her thoughts. Syrahn stood up straight and took all the time she needed before stepping out into the glaring sunlight to get to the truth of all this.

Immediately she noticed the foreign armor of her guardsmen. They were clad in the darkest armor she had ever seen, wielding longswords with a deep blood-like crimson, and shields that looked like they were carved straight out of obsidian; she could only imagine their suffering in this hellish heat, but she didn’t dwell on such thoughts for long. Most of them knelt the moment they noticed her presence, with just a single guard opening the door to her carriage. Fear of them not being her guardsmen at all and cutting her down once she got close enough made her reluctant to approach. “First stop, my Lady?” One of them asked, helping to put her mind at ease; she could recognize Sven Skyfire any day, even when he’s hidden in that ghastly armor.

“House Greyshade.” Syrahn offered him a relieved smile before gripping the front of her dress while she lowered her head and stepped into her carriage.

“Ah, the perfect thing to see first thing in the morning!” Another familiar voice called out to her, this time from within the carriage. Her subtle smile vanished the instant she recognized Lord Zaetan Bladewhisper and Lord Victus Sunpath sitting on either side of each other. “Well what are you waiting for? Hop in my Lady!”

Syrahn froze stiff. “What are you two doing in my carriage?!” Zaetan and Victus exchanged confused glances at such a strange question.

“It's usually customary for the Guard Captains to accompany the Glade Queen, is it not?” The tone in Zaetan’s voice seemed harmlessly playful, but it annoyed her all the same.

“My Guard Captain can't defend me very well inside my carriage,” Syrahn started while she felt heat rising to the surface of her face. “I didn't authorize either of you to assume his position either… and I definitely don't need two captains!”

“You did suggest someone from my house would be willing to do the job.” Zaetan calmly explained; Syrahn clenched her jaw and pursed her lips together at that realization. She remembered saying something along those lines yesterday afternoon. “Your new Honorguard is more than capable of fending off any threats now that they're properly equipped too, as a token of my family's goodwill.”

“Fair enough…” Slowly she sat down along the bench and the carriage door closed behind her. She chose to sit as far away from the two as she possibly could, but since she gave her more prestigious carriage to Jaeras so she could travel to the Sun’rael Manor in style, her backup ride was a little more… cramped than she remembered; even on the other side she was almost butting her knees against theirs. “So… why do I need two of you?”

“If assassins were sent to kill Lady Sun’rael from the Glade, then you can't rule out the possibility of them turning their attention to you as well.” Victus warned with Zaetan nodding in approval. “Think of us as retainers, if that suits you.”

Syrahn narrowed her eyes. “How do you know about that?”

“Your sister filled us in.” Zaetan quickly answered. “That’s why we’re going to House Greyshade, is it not?”

“I'm on my way to visit all of the houses, yes.” She didn't want to single out House Greyshade just yet, not until she had all the facts. “I need to get to the bottom of this but I'm not about to start a witch hunt. Hopefully none of our houses are guilty… because if they are, I will not hesitate to banish them.”

“Banishment seems a little tame for attacking your allie-"

Syrahn didn't wait for Victus to finish his thought by saying, “The families would be banished. Those directly responsible will be hanged.” Her eyes flickered between them with aggressive intent in her gaze. “I suppose I should start with you two.”

“My Lady?” Zaetan asked while Victus fell silent.

“Thank you for volunteering.” The Glade Queen straightened up in her seat while she studied his face for the slightest trace of deception. “You already know assassins came after Lady Sun’rael less than three days after the Amber Glade demanded reparations for our garden’s destruction. Why would House Bladewhisper want her dead?”

“We wouldn't.” Zaetan answered plainly yet confidently. “Sure we've killed people we didn't like before. But sending in assassins to do our dirty work is… tasteless. Like using poison the way House Sunlust tried on us it's without honor.” He gave her a comforting smile before finishing with, “And you know how much we Bladewhispers yap on about honor. I'm sure you're tired of hearing it by now, truth be told.”

Syrahn was not yet convinced of his innocence. “Truth be told House Sun’rael is a mercenary contractor. Mercenaries will do just about anything and kill just about anyone for money. Your house does the same… sounds like a recipe for conflicting interests, wouldn't you agree?”

“Our trade is mostly selling arms and armor. We buy raw materials from mining guilds and goblin cartels, refine it in our forges, then make whatever the demand is from scratch. Your Honorguard was outfitted by our best blacksmiths, free of charge.”

“How thoughtful.” The Glade Queen decided to keep that remark to herself. Lord Zaetan seemed like an honest man; a simple man perhaps, but an honest man nonetheless. Although she was convinced he had nothing to do with that attempt on Kaevia’s life, ruling out his family before she spoke with them directly was not an option. As quickly as she blinked, Syrahn’s amber eyes flickered to Victus.

“House Sunpath would never stoop so low as to send assassins to dismantle House Sun’rael. As a fellow family devoted to the wrathful flames of the Holy Light, we share a special kinship, I'd wager.” He didn't wait for Syrahn to speak before making his case. “None of my family was harmed during the attack on the Glade either. It just doesn't make sense for us to raise a hand against them.” Syrahn found it remarkably difficult to read their faces, but a part of her was merely convinced she was just searching for something that wasn't there. What both of them said sounded genuine and believable, and if everyone she talked to was this convincing, she was in for a grand waste of her time. “But you know who would want to harm House Sun’rael?” Lord Victus spoke up, catching her attention again. “House Greyshade.”

“Are you so sure about that?” Syrahn quickly asked before a sharp inhale; the animosity between the Sunpaths and Greyshades was no secret. If she knew it was more than a house dedicated to the Holy Light and a house devoted to the Void distrusting each other out of instinct Syrahn wouldn't have let either of them into the Amber Glade in the first place. “Or is this your excuse for me to banish your enemies?”

“House Greyshade killed two of my nephews.” As expected Victus was quick on the draw to defend his family. “Listen - I don't have proof so I'm not saying they did it… but they've hired cutthroats to do their dirty work before. And as a family of warlocks and shadow priests, they're predisposed to hate a fellow house of paladins.”

Syrahn wasn’t interested in their rivalry. It looked childish to keep such grudges as someone on the outside looking in, but she couldn’t ignore the fact that she was in his very same shoes not even two years ago; House Flamesunder held such bitterness for her family, and it resulted in a civil war that almost brought the Amber Glade to ruin. Before she was able to open her mouth to comment, the carriage finally stopped at the first destination of many. “House Greyshade, my Lady.” Sven called out from the driver’s seat, as Lord Zaetan stepped outside to open her door for her.

“I should probably stay here.” Lord Victus suggested, leaning back in his seat.

The Glade Queen gave him a long stare before her door was opened. “You probably should.”

Mentions: @k-sunrael @house-sunrael