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    Summary

    “This drink, the mage made it. It is going to make you a good boy,” she brushed back his hair, too long nails trailing along his cheek. “But you cannot tell anyone. You cannot tell a soul about this drink or this spell. You don’t talk about it. You keep it secret.”

     

    Julian opened his mouth to ask more and was hit by a pain he had never experienced. The boy cried out in pain and doubled over, arm wrapping around his screaming middle. His mother shushed him and pet at him until he was able to catch his breath.

     

    “See what happens to naughty little boys who don’t listen?” Her voice was sharp. “I told you not to say anything.”

    --

    Jaskier was cursed with obedience as a child and has mostly learned to get by without others knowing. Geralt is not most people.

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