#paralised!jaskier

[who-even-needs-marbles]

I don’t know if you’re still interested in prompts, but in case you are… This may be the most phone-it-in prompt ever, but I thought your “Jaskier gets paralyzed” headcanon looked angsty and wonderful, and I keep hoping you’ll do something more with it. Maybe write us a scene or two from that ‘verse?

Hi anon! I know this took really long but life just be like that, good newn is that once I started writing this I decided to write the whole thing! So if all goes well that will be on my ao3 once I finish it.

This takes place somewhere around chapter 4 and 5 (yeah it’s going to be a long one) just after Jaskier woke up. He got stabbed in the head but Yennefer and Geralt managed to save him, what they didn’t realise at first is that brain injuries almost always have lasting affects, this time making it that Jaskier, the once so alive bard couldn’t even get one real word out of his mouth.

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The mumbling wouldn't stop, Jaskier was just making sounds and acted  like he was actually saying something, like he was still flailing his arms around and using every tone he could to get his point across. But he wasn’t. By the gods he was barely moving. His eyes were dancing and he was producing sounds but it meant nothing. The poet lost his words, he lost the life he had. It would take years for him to even walk again- let alone dance around the tavern enchanting everyone with a voice like honey. If he’d ever got to do that again. Brain injuries have disastrous results. He knew that, but he’d never seen it from this close. He never expected Jaskier to end up like this.

He’s met people who were blind, deaf, couldn't feel their left arm or just lost their sense of smell. Never someone who seemed almost fully paralised, not even knowing that they were.

He just kept mumbling, he just wouldn’t stop and it didn’t take the sorceress and the witcher long to realise that they needed to tell him, before he found out himself while they couldn’t do anything but watch. They needed to say something, anything to at least comfort him. He needed to say something and not just watch, Jaskier needed him but the words were stuck in his throat, stuck like they’ve never been, like the tightest screw in the world's heaviest tower.

“Jaskier'' Yennefer seemed to be able to talk. It made Jaskier snap out of his ramble session and look at her. She walked closer and grabbed his hand. Slow and ever so careful. Like it was made out of glass. Slowly lifting it off the bed into the air, letting their conjoined hands rest in the air. She looked at him contemplating what to do. Letting her violet eyes rest on the blue ones across of her.

Even the great Yennefer of Vengerberg didn’t seem to find the right words, or maybe even the heart. She always was brutally honest when it came to things like this. She’s a smart liar, only twisting the truth, but not fully lying.

She redirected her attention from Jaskier’s eyes to his hand. And the blue colour filled with confusion followed. She slowly let go of his hand. Not putting it down, but slowly taking her support away from his arm. And just before she let it fully go she told him something.

“Try and keep your arm up.” Confusion filling his eyes until she let go and the arm fell right back onto the bed, blue eyes grew wide and looked at Geralt, his words still stuck, and back at Yennefer, her violet eyes full with everything he needed to know.

* 

He needed to lift his arm. Jaskier couldn't figure out why it fell when Yennefer let go, he didn’t know what was even happening. He felt okay, besided the thobbing pain in his head he felt okay, so why did his own bloody arm fall?

He just needed to lift his arm. Lift it like he’d always done. Using his upper arm to lift the rest. He’d do it. They were just fucking with him, he was just fine. This was just one of Yennefer’s sick jokes.

Just lift it.

1.. 2.. 3 - 

Nothing.

Why not?

His heartbeat started picking up, along with his breathing. He could still do it. He’d been out for a while, his body probably needs some time. His eyes grew smaller, more concentrated and a little angry. He tried again, and he kept trying but nothing happened no matter what he did. He tried, and oh god he tried but nothing happened.

“What happened?”

But all he got were two worried looks. Why didn’t they answer him? They always answered him, and if they didn’t they wove him off, they didn’t start a group therapy session where he spoke while they just looked at him, worried.

“Answer me!”

Still nothing. Why? Why not? In Melente’s name WHY!

“Jaskier”

“Geralt tell me! What’s happening!?”

“Jaskier, I need you to listen.” Geralt’s breath got caught in his throat “You’re trying to talk right?”

“Trying? What do you mean trying? I-”

A hand got a hold of his own, Geralt's hand to be exact. The witcher brought their hands closer to his face and placed a gentle kiss on the bard's hand before looking him in his blue wide eyes.

“You’re not saying anything.”

*

It hurt to tell him that. It hurt that he wasn’t okay. It hurt that he didn’t even realize it. Oh he hated how he needed to tell him how bad it had gotten. Geralt needing to tell his beloved bard all that he loved doing. How he wasn’t able to do the things he loved most. Talking, singing, dancing, playing, writing, he didn’t know where the list would end. For as long as he knew Jaskier he was talking and moving and full of life. Now there was a man on that bed, paralised from his neck down and unable to string together the words he used to be so good with. And now he even had to explain it all to him.

He had to bite through the piercing eyes that were wide with fear, and confusion.

“You’re not saying anything. Not words, just tones. You can move your eyes right? Blink twice for yes”

*

Jaskier wanted to scream, scream until every word came back. He tried to answer, but just like his arm, his mouth wasn’t working with him. Just how he thought that he was moving his arms at first, now that he listened -really listened- he heard the notes escaping. How it just sounded like low grunts, how it didn’t even sound close to the voice he once had. So he just blinked twice. Geralt would find a solution, he always did. He just had to get through now.

Geralt sighed with compassion. “Do you remember what happened? Once for no, and still twice for yes.”

Did he remember? He dug through his memories, trying to find an explanation for why and how he ended up here. He tried to find it but he didn’t remember himself getting hurt. He remembered the Nilfguaardian threat and how he swore he wanted to help. How he found a way that didn’t involve getting a sword and smashing every black soldier he saw. It wasn’t safe, he knew that, but as long as no one caught him he’d be fine. He needed to pull a big stunt. He needed to be out in the open to get to the Nilfguaardian commander tent, steal the plans, and leave, act like a lost bard, having no idea how he got there. He remembered the plan, but not the execution. Like the day never came to light. Like he fell asleep the night before the big day, and woke up like this. In a condition he just couldn’t put his finger on and with the most terrible headache ever.

“Jaskier. Do you?”

He blinkt once.

“We were going to resist Nilfgaard. I found you struggling with a higher soldier, possibly a commander. I tried to save you-” He hadn’t let go of his hand, but now he squeezed a little harder. A comfort after he choked on his words. And Jaskier forgot, just for a split second that he couldn’t squeeze back, and swallowed the lump in his throat when he remembered again.

Yennefer decided to step in. Realising that Geralt couldn’t find the words he needed. “He stabbed you in your head, Jask. I’m sorry. You even died for a while, but your spirit hadn’t left yet, so we managed to save you. You woke up for a few seconds, after that you fell asleep for the whole week.”

He wanted to make a snarky and clever comment. Just a little something to say that he’s okay, even though he isn’t. To bite at Yennefer and have her bite back. To show Geralt how good they could get along and how their comments could be turned into the best theatre show on the whole continent. 

A try won’t hurt right? It was just a dagger in his head, and he survived that. He survived and he’d always pulled through everything. He had to try, for this wasn’t a life for a bard.

“Well at the very least I’m-”

“Jaskier.” Geralt  said. Eyes closed and lips moving in no particular shape. Testing the words before saying them. “Please, stop.”

“Unfortunately I’m going to have to agree with him” Yennefer said, her stoic and direct self. She wasn’t always like that, but she knew when not to show your emotions. He just hoped that she was in fact hiding them, instead of not caring about him at all. “You’re still not saying anything and this hurts us Jaskier. We will find a way but for now, just stop talking, please.” At least he knew that she cared now, but he still couldn’t believe them. How could they just give in? He was going to be fine, everything will return to normal after a drink, some food, and a good night’s rest. Right?

He didn’t know how his plea was heard, but Geralt knew him all too well. Decades of friendship and love making sure they knew each other all better than anyone else on the continent. Knew what the other was thinking when not a word was said. He sat onto the bed, only letting go of his hand to pull him into a hug. One he could not return no matter how hard he tried. He liked the feeling of Geralt being close though, so he didn’t complain. He just had one question, one question Geralt might even understand without actual words.

He would be okay right? This would pass like it was nothing right? “Right?” 

He got pulled even closer. His arms still stupidly limb and his neck only staying up because Geralt was holding it. 

“I’m sorry Jask.” 

The thing was, he knew that he was right. A voice deep inside of telling him that he wasn’t okay for once, but he still chose to ignore it. Ignore Geralt, ignore Yennefer and ignore that voice, because this couldn’t be true.

It just can’t go like this.

“I’ll fix you Jaskier, I promise” He whispered, only pulling him closer. “Just make this easy for us, please”

He didn’t want this. He wanted the life he had back. And yet,

here he was.

Because he thought it was a good idea to fight against that stupid emporer. Because he just felt the need to fight it all. To give up the life he had for one of heroics and heartbreak. Not just following it, but being in the centre of it all.

Only he planned for his heart to break.

Not for him to break his friend's heart. 

Not for him to lie there not being able to do anything. Not being able to get up and deal with it in some way.

He didn’t know when the tears started to roll but he knew he was crying. Sobs escaping his throat and they still didn’t sound like his sobs. They sounded lower, like his throat was full of snot from the world's worst cold.

What a shitty way of the world to show him that the heartbreak he oh so romanticised isn’t great. That isn’t worth the one song he might not even be able to write. This wasn’t worth his heroic story he didn’t even get to write until the end.

“I’ll stay with you, Jask, I’ll get you through this.” He’d lie if he didn’t feel a kiss on his hair. He liked it, liked the feeling of still being something to someone. Liked the feeling of Geralt caring for him. “I’ll help you, Jaskier.” His sobs only got louder and he wanted to pull himself even closer to Geralt’s chest, hide in the safety and the warmth of the person he loved most. “I’ll help you through.” He whispered before placing another kiss in his hair. “I promise.”

*

Geralt didn’t know how long he’d been holding Jaskier, but he knew that they were there for a long time. He held him and pulled him as close as he could, afraid to lose him if he even as much as looked away. He knew that Yennefer left after a while, he wasn’t sure if she grew bored or couldn't take it anymore. Either way he was alone with Jaskier. And he kept crying until his eyes were swollen and red. He didn’t have a lot of energy anymore, even Geralt could see that, but he still wouldn’t go to sleep. He could understand why, sleep always felt like it made things real. Sleep made sure that the next morning you could see what really happened. He knew how tempting it was to tell yourself you were okay, that you’d be just fine and that no one needed to worry their asses off.

It took him long enough to accept Jaskier’s help when he needed it, telling him that he didn’t need help. Not even when stabbed, poisoned, beaten, yelled at, kicked out, or to put it simply, when he was hurt and not okay. Jaskier would always patch him up, no matter how loud he told him that he didn’t need it. 

He knew he was probably off way worse, if not dead had Jaskier never helped him.

He mostly realized that in the mornings when that freshly stitched up wouldn't sting as much as before. How he did lose a lot of blood in hindsight. And how he did sometimes need someone to tell him that he wasn’t the monster they made him out to be.

That’s why he didn’t need to think for one second when he found out that he wasn’t okay for once. He already stitched him up before of course, but not like this. Not in a situation this hopeless. But despite the bad view on the future he wouldn’t leave him. Not the man he loved, not the man who helped him through all those bad times.

“I love you, Jaskier.” He got a hold of him and held him upright, looking him in those red swollen eyes. “I love you.”

He saw the other man look up, his eyes just a little bit less sad than before he said those three little words. Geralt gave him one of his most sincere smiles, smiles only meant for Jaskier and no one else. He could see that Jaskier wanted to talk, wanted to say those words back, but he also saw that he gave up without even really trying. Probably feeling just as tired as he looked. Instead he saw him try to smile, which still seemed hard, but he also still seemed to have some sort of degree of control over his face. His lips still didn’t seem to work with him, but his eyes did. Telling him the words unsaid. 

“Thank you, I love you too.”

They sat like that for a while, stealing a few more seconds together before Geralt spoke up again.

“You should sleep.” 

And with two blinks he lowered him back onto the bed. Only keeping his hand on his cheek, softly brushing his thumb over it. “I’ll be back when you wake up.”

And with those words he saw his eyelids close and heard how his breathing slowed. He still stayed like that for a while, not really wanting to leave his side. But after a while he did. He got up and took one more look at him before he really left the room. 

One more glance at him before the real strom settled in.