Chapter Text
Prologue
Julian, you're a disgrace to our flock, said his mother.
Julian learn to behave like a royal fae, not like a disappointment that you are, said his father while he whipped his wings.
Overachiever, said his classmates.
Only a good hole, said the man's voice while he ruthlessly pumped into Jaskier's tender flesh, without having asked for permission.
Unlovable, said the voices as he dragged the knife across the skin.
We're not friends.
Good for nothing.
Filingless pie.
Burden.
If life could give me one blessing, would be to have you out of my hand, said the love of his life.
He was alone. Utterly, desperately alone.
Casted aside by everyone he knew. That was his story, his destiny, his legacy. Ending up with heart broken.
But he was tired. So drained of giving and giving and having nothing in return if not pain.
So he decided to be better, to be good. To be worthy of love.
And that was Jaskier's sole mistake.
Chapter 2
Notes:
Hello lovely unicorns! I hope everyone of is well.
Please read the tags for trigger warnings to stay safe!
Comments and gentle (pls I'ma cinnamon roll) criticism are well accepted!
Keep in mind that English is not my first language!
Stay safe, stay magical :)
Chapter Text
Chapter one
The battle against the Deathless Mother had left behind only ruins.
The keep had to be reconstructed again, many witchers had died and a family had to construct its ties.
There was no place for useless, albeit graceful, weed like Jaskier. But he couldn't stand to be a bother, a nuisance, another time in a different mountain, so the bard tried really hard to make himself useful and appreciated, even if nobody noticed.
He swept and scrubbed the floor, he cooked for everyone, he cleaned the rooms, restocked the books in the library and yet he was still invisible to the inhabitant oh Kaer Morhen.
Until he almost died.
He was cleaning the stable and feeding the horses and Eskel's sheeps, when he found that standing up was incredibly difficult. Black spots were dancing before his cornflower eyes and Jaskier felt a rush of fear flow through him. He knew he was about to faint and he knew that no one cared if he lived or died. He tried to reach his chamber but fell in the snow, panting for the effort, crying for his loneliness. He closed his eyes, for just a moment, the snowflakes a cold blanket across his battered body, and then he new no more.
The stew was delicious, well seasoned and obviously cooked by skilled hands.
The keep was finally clean but, Vesemir noted, was silent. And a house with a bard in it could not be noiseless.
Now the the old witcher thought of it he hadn't seen Jaskier since the battle, five days ago.
"Geralt, where's your bard?" asked the mentor.
"Not my bard, and probably lost composing around the keep" said Geralt, looking uncomfortable.
"Are you sure? Who do you think has cooked all these foods? Or cleaned the keep? Me? Eskel? Your witch or child surprise? Or Melitele forbid Lambert? No it was your bard. Have you alwasy been so emotionally constipated and borderline abusive with him all these years?".
The judgmental and dumbfounded eyes of the diners were upon the White Wolf.
"That's not true" tried to argue back Geralt, but he didn't have the time to go further than that. The noise coming from the stable were so loud that forced the witchers to investigate the cause of all that noise.
They found it. In the form of a bard layered in the unforgiving cold snow for four hours.
WolfaMoon on Chapter 2 Sun 06 Aug 2023 11:40PM UTC
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