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Fics inspired by inexplicific’s warlord AU
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Published:
2020-07-30
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1,266
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1/1
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There's Something at the Door

Summary:

(A Direct Prequel/Missing Scene to With A Conquering Air by inexplicifics)

Jaskier is newly graduated from Oxenfurt, and has taken up his rightful place in the courts of Redania. Nevermind that none of his peers like him and he finds the whole thing quite boring. The monotony is broken when the King calls a very important meeting one day, but whether this is a positive thing is yet to be seen...

Notes:

hey yall! this really wont make sense if you haven't read inexplicifics wonderfully beautiful works! I've had this idea bouncing around in my head ever since I read it for the first time, but I've finally managed to get it out! the remix 'For the Asking' by Rassaku is what gave me that last push. slight content warning for all the same things that are referenced in With a Conquering Air! I tried to stay as true to the canon of that universe as I could, as I wanted it to feel like it could slot right in before the story picks up, but I am not in inex's mind so readers be kind. Also i really don't write much so apologies for the inevitable missed mistakes, even though I did bug two friends to help me edit.

Title is pulled from That Unwanted Animal by The Amazing Devil because i am astonishingly unoriginal xx

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Work Text:

Recently, Jaskier had spent most of his time daydreaming. He dreamed of travel, of seeing the continent, of freedom, of caring peers and attentive lovers. Anything to make the long hours bearable. Even since he had taken his place as a full time member of the Redanian court, boredom was an ever-present feeling. The last few years had been wonderful, studying at Oxenfurt, making genuine friends for the first time in his life and perfecting his craft. Once he graduated however, all of that was behind him. Nevermind that he had been permitted to study the bardic arts, now that he had returned home he couldn't even sneak down to the taverns, let alone practice his lute.

 

His days were filled with long meetings sat in between his brothers, who sneered at him every chance they could, and feigning any amount of care towards the matters at hand. Jaskier liked to think he was bright, and he knew well enough about the current politics to hold his own, but it was just so dreadfully tedious. It didn't help that as he got older his family and peers became less inclined to continue pretending they enjoyed his presence, so without the comforting knowledge he would return to Oxenfurt, he was feeling well and truly alone .

 

 

 

Jaskier had been back in court full time for three months when the King called a meeting of grave importance. It was mandatory to all acting nobles who were not otherwise occupied. “Occupied”, obviously, referred to the older, less tolerable nobles, if there were any at all, that King Vizimir no longer cared enough about to try and control. As he sat with his family, surrounded by 50-odd nobles of Redania facing the head table where his father was joining the other head of houses, he got the most peculiar sense of dread.

 

“Thank you all for being here,” King Vizimir began, standing at his throne, and immediately a hush fell over the room. “I’m sure you are wondering why I called you all together.”

 

“ As you are aware, the Warlord of the North,” he sneered at this, pausing like it disgusts him to mention the name, “has conquered the upper two thirds of Redania. The head council has been in deep discussion this past week, and we have come to a decision on what must be done to prevent the continued siege.”

 

He breathed for a moment, looking around the room, before steeling himself. “We have decided that the most promising course of action is to send tribute to placate the Warlord. And we have decided... that this tribute will be a person.”

 

If the room had been quiet before, you could have heard the flutter of a butterfly's wings out in the courtyard in the suffocating silence that followed. 

 

“Now, we cannot simply pluck any servant or peasant to be offered, as that would do our reputation no favors, so that leaves only one of our own.” He said, carefully devoid of any emotion.

 

Jaskier stilled at this. He had been in attendance at the meeting when someone suggested this course of action, but had evidently not been invited when the decision had been agreed upon. He is sure he would have been in opposition had he been there. Everyone has heard the rumors of the White Wolf, of how he is vicious, more beast than man. How he is unfeeling and slaughters without care. And, recently, how he is most... unforgiving in his choice of bedmates. If the King is implying they intend to send him a partner, they might as well be sending someone to their grave. That the head council clearly agreed to this in secrecy from the larger court is… curious.

 

“We have not decided who this tribute will be, but we have decided on parameters. They can be of any gender, and must not be yet betrothed, preferably of-age, but I hardly doubt the Wolf will take that into consideration.”

 

The room remained silent. For a long moment no one moved, no one even dared to breathe. Jaskier glanced around, and saw faces mirroring his own expression of shock throughout the room. Although King Vizimir had made it clear he had finished his speech and was now waiting on suggestion from the court, for once the catty and shallow court nobles of Redania had been rendered speechless.

 

After a few drawn out minutes of this shocked silence, some people around the room began to shuffle. As much as Jaskier was trying to avoid thinking about what was going on, for his own sanity, he could feel the stares on him. He knew, is the thing, that he wasn't the most favorable member of the court. He was brash, and loud, and wildly annoying, traits he was reminded of consistently throughout his disciplining as a child. He had formally trained as a bard, which to them was about as respectable as a common whore- 

 

Ye gods .

 

Jaskier caught his parents making eye contact out of the corner of his eye, and finally his blood ran cold. He feels, in that moment, the compulsion to allow his mind to leave his body, go somewhere safer and far away, but he resisted as best he could. 

 

The Count de Lettenhove cleared his throat, just as the panic started to truly set it. All eyes turned to watch, a mixture of relief and indifference, as his death sentence was given. 

 

“Your majesty, might I volunteer my Julian?” he said, as calmly as he's ever been in all of Jaskier’s life. 

 

“Count Pankratz,” King Vizimir started, either in shock at actually having a volunteer, or relief at not having to choose someone himself. “You understand what we are asking of you?”

 

“Of course, your grace,” and he looked at Jaskier then, and suddenly he was six again, begging his father for comfort he was incapable of providing. “ It’s not like he’s doing anyone any good here . May as well be useful once before he dies.”

 

A wave of hurt shock rippled down Jaskier’s spine, and he tore his eyes away from his father’s to stare helplessly at his family around him, pleading without word for a scrap of compassion from the people he has been raised with for the better part of two decades. His mother pointedly avoided eye contact, along with his sisters. His brothers met his eyes, however, with that same coldness that read all over his father's face not moments before. His eldest brother has the nerve to smirk , cruelly and wholly uncalled for. The air was pushed from his lungs as Jaskier’s eyes darted around the courtroom, desperate for an ally. Finding none, he looked to his King.

 

King Vizimir gazed back and for a moment they held eye contact, the king's eyes filling with grim determination, and Jaskier’s with sheer terror. The King looked down the row, and one by one, the council nodded. A unanimous vote.

 

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, you will be brought before the Warlord of the North as tribute, as a display of Redania's… respect.” And he made a small gesture with his hand, and suddenly there were guards upon him, seizing him from behind the bench on which he sat.

 

And Jaskier has but a moment to get his feet under him, two guards flanking him and gripping his arms. He looked around wildly, terror and panic and a glassy calm rushing over him in repeated, violent waves. Finally, he cried out loud, begging, pleading, once, before the doors were opened and he was dragged from the courtroom.

Notes:

it's short but this scene just wouldnt leave me alone. Please be kind as i really truly am not usually a writer haha