#no 13

"What are you doing?" You watched as he stuffed your satchel with a swift pace, using his wolf tail as an extra hand.

"You'll need these for your journey." Katakuri closed your bag and handed it off to you. He lifted your hood over your head before placing his hands on your shoulder and meeting you at eye level. "There's another way out at the back of the cave. Take it, I'll distract them. You should be fine once you reach a safe distance-"

"What- No, I'm not leaving you." You look at him with worried eyes as your squeeze your bag.

"You know the human law, don't you? 'All humans associating with monsters must be killed with the beasts', I'd rather you leave so you don't get involved, they're only after me." Katakuri uses a furry hand to caress your face. "I wouldn't able to forgive myself if they did something to you."

You place a hand over his. You could feel your heartstrings playing heartache as you stared into his eyes, unsure if this would be the last time you would ever see Katakuri. For being a monster, he has shown you more humanity and hospitality than your own kind. You loved him, and you could feel your heart break at the idea of having to run away, but if you must, you had to tell him. The words were on the tip of your tongue, they wanted to come out-

"They're here," Katakuri announced as his ears flickered in the direction of the entrance. He stood up straight and gave you a starting push to the exit. "You must go now."

Your legs took over and dashed towards the back of the cave, your mind blank, your heart beating. The end came to view and that's when you looked back, your mind tuning to the reality around you. The sound of angered men failing strike and growls from your monster echoed through the cave to you. Shadows on the walls displayed their fight, the hunters attacked Katakuri from all sides. You watched with worry, fear hovering over you as you noticed a shadow climbing up. He's going to strike from above!

"Look out!" you cried, hoping your voice would reach him in time. Alas, the man came down from above and you were filled with horror as you saw the werewolf shadow get hit and fall down. "NO!"

You rushed into the cave, legging carrying you to the point they began to feel numb. Your heart pulls you closer to the fallen monster. Flying past the hunters, you kneel down to the werewolf hugging him. You shielded him with your body, but you didn't dare make eye contact with the hunters.

"Pl-please! Leave him alone!" you begged, doing your best to keep your voice strong.

"[Y/n], what are you doing?" Katakuri asked, his eyes wide. "You need to leave, they'll kill you too!"

Jaskier let his head gently fall against the wall behind him, his eyes taking in the ceiling for what seems to be the thousandth time since his capture. No new cracks have appeared, to his dismay, but it's better to look up at the ceiling then down. Looking down would mean acknowledging how shitty the situation he’s in is, which he’s already done far too many times. Jaskier pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around them, hoping it’ll give him more comfort than it actually does. 

Shackles wrap around his wrists, both with chains leading back to the wall behind him, same with his ankles, but instead of the chains leading to the wall, they lead to a bolt in the middle of the room. His stomach grumbles, causing a wave of nausea to roll over Jaskier. He can’t help but laugh to himself, who would’ve thought that after three weeks of this he still wouldn’t be used to the continual hunger, sure they fed him but it was never enough. He rests his head on his knees and closes his eyes, trying to focus on anything but the hunger pains, but then he is faced with the fact that there is nothing better to think about. 

No matter how many times he’d told his captors, they never believed him. “He’ll come for you.” They swore, but Jaskier knew it wasn’t true and he’d hoped that by now they’d have given up and let him go, but of course he couldn’t be that lucky. He knew he was there to be bait and an informant, nothing more. In spite of the fact that he knew no one was coming to save him, he still couldn’t convince himself to give up any of the information he held. So he took the beatings. Jaskier pondered over what he would say of his time in captivity, should he ever escape. “Please, they beat me into the next week and I just sat there silently, not even a single scream escaped these lips!” Or perhaps, “Oh please, those brutes knew nothing about how to actually torture a man, I’ve felt worse from a bar fight.” But those would all be lies. 

Hours later, Jaskier’s thoughts are disrupted by the door to his cell opening, he quickly scrambles up right so he is prepared for what is to come. Three men enter his cell, one of whom is holding keys. Maybe this is my chance. 

“Fine weather we’re having, aren’t we gents?” He jokes, trying to break the tension in the room, but no one laughs. “I uh, I see you brought keys, so can I assume you’re finally letting me go home?” 

The men stay silent, much to his dismay. One of the men, who has a scar stretching down the left side of his face, walks towards Jaskier causing him to step back until his back is completely against the wall, his heart racing. He closes his eyes to brace for the incoming pain, but when it doesn’t come he opens his eyes slowly. His hands have been unchained from the wall, and are now bound together in front of him, the same goes for his ankles, which now have a short chain between them so he is able to walk. The man grabs Jaskier by the arm and begins to lead him out of his cell, his heart beating a hundred times faster than before. 

Jaskier nervously laughs as he exits his cell for the first time since the start of his captivity, “Where are you taking me?” When no one answers he begins to struggle in the man’s grip a bit more, “Stop! Please, where are you taking me?” The man tightens his grip around Jaskier and drags him forward, causing him to stumble. 

“You smell like cow shit.” Is all the man holding him says. Jaskier briefly looks back as they round the corner, wishing more than he thought he would to be back in his cell. He is led into a new room with a giant tub in the middle, maybe they really do mean to let him have a bath. Silently, the men uncuff him long enough to take off his clothes, then recuff his wrists, leaving just the shackles on his ankles, with nothing to hold them together. “You have five minutes, don’t try anything dumb,” Is all the man says before he and the others turn around. 

Jaskier quickly washes himself, not wanting to run out of time or miss the only opportunity he’s had in a month to get clean. After he finishes, he quickly dries himself off with the towel they’ve provided and puts on the clean clothes they gave him. The material of these clothes is far scratchier than the clothes he’d had on prior, but after three weeks of wear, they had been falling apart and absolutely disgusting, so he is grateful for the change. Noticing the men all still have their back turned to him, Jaskier takes a moment to analyze his surroundings and sees there is a second door that hopefully leads out of the room. 

As quietly as he can, he slips out the door, which leads to an unfamiliar hallway. Jaskier takes off as fast as he can in his current state, heading for the only door in this hall, which lies at the very end. He can’t help but stop when he passes a window, taking a brief moment to look out, trying to figure out where the hell they have taken him. He is greeted by snow covered roofs and trees, which tells him his gauge of the passage of time seems to have been correct. Before his capture, fall had already begun to pass, cold winds were beginning to blow in. Some mornings he would wake up to frost on the ground. Now it seems that snow has completely taken over for now. His thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the door he just came through opening. Fuck. He turns to see the men enter, then looks back at the door he is going for and books it. He reaches the door and quickly tries to pull it open, only to find it locked. 

“Stop!” One of the men shouts at him as they race towards him.

Jaskier desperately pulls at the handle, begging it to open, “No no no no no,” he mutters as the men get closer to him. He is quickly yanked away from the door and pulled to the floor. “Please-” Jaskier begs as a kick lands in his side. “Please just let me go.” He sobs as another kick is dealt to his side, then a hand grabs his hair and yanks him off the ground a few inches, forcing him to face one of his captors. 

“We give you one nice thing and this is how you decide to treat us?” The man spits at him, rage turning his face red. His hair is let go and he falls back to the floor, the wind briefly getting knocked out of his lungs.

“I’m sorry!” Jaskier begs, tears running down his face, “I won’t do it again I swear!” 

“You’re right about that!” One of the other men shouts, “No more running for you, hows that sound?” 

Jaskier nods his head, “Please, I won’t do it anymore! Just take me back to my cell please!” 

“Funny, I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making any demands right now.” The third man grabs Jaskier’s wrists and pulls him to his feet, adjusting his hands so he has a good grip on Jaskier’s upper arms. 

At this point Jaskier doesn’t bother fighting, knowing that at least once he’s back in his cell, maybe they’ll relent and stop beating him. When they reach his cell, Jaskier is quickly thrown to the floor and rechained like he was before. He lets the breath he had been holding in, until he looks up and sees that the men are all still in his cell. He scoots back until his back hits the wall once more, as if that could protect him from these men, then he looks up. 

“I- I promise I won’t try that again.” He tries to sound less scared than he actually is, but it doesn’t work. 

“Damn right you won’t.” The man with the scar over his eye sneers at him, stepping closer. “Now tell me, bard,” he spits out bard as if it’s an insult, “are you familiar with what the punishment is for stealing?” Jaskier nods shakily, trying not to panic. “Well what is it then?” 

“You-you cut off the hand of the-” His eyes widen, “No! Please don’t!” 

“The hand of the what, bard?” The man repeats, “You didn’t finish answering my question. 

“Of the thief,” Jaskier chokes out.

“Now since this is your first offense, my men and I have decided to be generous, haven’t we?” The two men behind him nod their heads in agreement. “So we won’t cut off your legs, how’s that sound?” 

“That- that sounds good, uh sir, thank you.” Jaskier allows his heartbeat to slow back to normal, until he feels something grab his left leg. 

“Glad you agree, we’ll just break one of your legs instead.” Before Jaskier can even say anything in protest, he watches the man lift his foot up and then step down on Jaskier’s knee with more force than he would’ve thought possible. A scream shoots out from his lung, louder than he’s been in ages. 

All three men laugh, “Gods he couldn’t even take it like a man.” One of the men in the back jokes before stepping forward. “My turn.” This time Jaskier thinks he’s prepared for the pain, but another scream erupts as he feels his kneecap shatter. He wants to pull his leg closer to him, but worries that even the slightest movement could make the pain a thousand times worse. Then he remembers there is a third man. 

“N-no, no please!” He sobs, the pain from his leg radiating throughout his body. 

“Now now bard, is that anyway to say thank you for being taught an important lesson?” The third man chides, before smashing Jaskier’s shin. A look of satisfaction crosses the man’s face as he grabs Jaskier’s chin, “Now, say thank you.” 

“T-Thank you.” He sobs, trying to look away from the men despite being forced to make eye contact with them. 

“Good boy.” The man lets go of his chin to pat his head before turning around, leading the other two men out of the room. 

The second Jaskier is alone, he begins to cry, which quickly turns into screaming. He could handle the beatings and the loneliness, but now with his leg broken, the reality that he is never going to leave this place is far more real than it had been before. Despair shakes him down to his core. No one is coming for me. I’m going to die here, alone. At one point, someone bangs on his door to tell him to shut up, but he can’t seem to stop, despite knowing he needs to. Eventually someone comes in and gags him, threatening to cut off his tongue should remove the gag. 

If Jaskier had to guess how much time had passed since his leg was broken, he’d have to guess a couple weeks, maybe a month. Not that it’s shown much improvement, but the pain is a little less prominent than it was before. It doesn’t really make a difference, he can’t stand on it, and even if he could, there’s no way he’d dare attempt to escape again. His cell door opens and the man with a scar walks in with a piece of bread and a cup of water, causing his stomach to growl. It’s a sign that four days have passed, at least that’s what he guesses is the amount of time that passes between them feeding him, but without the sun it’s hard to say. 

The man pulls the gag out of Jaskier’s mouth, not that they need to leave it in anymore, he’s pretty quiet these days, the men just think it’s funny. “We’re helping you save your voice so when he comes for you, you can scream nice and pretty for him.” One of them joked at one point, even though they all know he’s not coming for Jaskier. He’s not his bard anymore, in fact, Jaskier would be willing to bet he’s happier now that Jaskier’s gone. He recalls at one point early in his captivity, when the men tried to get him to sing for them. When he’d refused they’d broken his lute. He could still see the smashed remains of his prized instrument in the corner of his cell, just out of reach. 

The man pushes the bread and water towards Jaskier, who quickly accepts them. “T-thank you.” He rasps out, his throat dry both from the lack of water, and the fact that he’s been gagged, which somehow also leads to him being far more thirsty. After he finishes eating, he hands the now empty cup back to the man, who goes to put the gag back in Jaskier’s mouth. “Please! I’ll be quiet!” He begs, same as he does every time they remove it. 

The man ignores this and shoves it back in Jaskier’s mouth, making a point of retying it far too tightly, while also catching some of Jaskier’s hair in the knot. “Tsk tsk bard, I think he would be very disappointed if when he comes for you, your voice is all gone, don’t you think? I mean that has to be the reason he kept you around so long hm? I can’t imagine you’re good for much else.” The man laughs, then turns on his heel and leaves the room, locking the door behind him. 

The next time Jaskier hears the door begin to open, he startles, his internal clock telling him that his captors are there early, or at least they seem earlier than usual. Usually he likes to be sitting up right when they come into his cell, so he can be prepared, but he is too tired and feels too weak to be doing anything but lay on his side. His eyes barely open as he watches the door swing open and shoes rush in. 

“Jaskier?” He hears a voice call, weird, they never call me by my name. He closes his eyes again, partially assuming it to be a dream, but as the footsteps get closer to him, he opens them again so he can at least look his captors in the eye before they beat the ever-loving shit out of him. When they open, Jaskier can’t help but do a double take as the man in front of him is his captor’s as he had been anticipating. He struggles to focus, only taking in the stark white hair of the man who abandoned him. The gag is gently pulled out of his mouth, catching slightly on his hair. 

“Are you here to break me out?” He rasps, his voice barely audible. “Or am I merely dreaming?”

“Oh Jaskier,” gentle hands cup his face, “I am so sorry.” 

Jaskier’s heart drops, “So I take it you’re here to kill me then?” Then Jaskier notices the blood on his armor. “Am I already dead?” 

“I killed them Jask, they’ll never lay hands on you or anyone again.” He sees the flash of metal and the jingle of keys, before feeling the shackles fall from his wrists. Moments later, he feels the shackles around his ankles also fall free, or at least on one of his ankles as he still can’t really feel his broken leg. “Let’s get you home.” 

When Jaskier wakes up again, he is in a bed, not the floor like he’s grown accustomed to. His leg also no longer radiates pain, when he opens his eyes he immediately has to shut them again, it is far brighter wherever he is now than it had been in his cell. The voices he hadn’t even noticed at first have now fallen silent around him, as if the owners have realized he is awake. 

“Jaskier?” There he is again, with his soft words and comforting voice. Why didn’t he come for me? “I’m here Jaskier, can you open your eyes?” 

He doesn’t want to, but he does anyway. There he is, seated by his bedside, his hand holding Jaskier’s, concern laced into every aspect of his face. “Geralt?” A cup with water is placed against his lip, his voice must be far raspier than he thought, but he doesn’t complain as he quickly drinks as much water as he can before the cup is pulled away. 

“Easy there,” Another voice, Yennefer, says as she places the cup on a stand beside the bed he is in. She must be the reason his legs does not hurt anymore. “There’s plenty of water now, no need to worry.” 

Jaskier looks at her, then at Geralt again, tightening his grip on Geralt’s hand. “You-you came for me?” 

“I’m sorry it took me so long, Jaskier.” 

“You came.” He sobs, “Oh Geralt, I’m so sorry I swear I never told them anything. Not even when I gave up hope you’d come. I swear on my life, I never said a word.”

“Even if you did Jaskier, I wouldn’t care.” Geralt rubs his thumb against Jaskier’s hand, trying his best to soothe him. “I just wish I had come sooner, I’m so sorry you were put through that.” 

“You’re, you’re not mad?” 

“Only at myself for not being there sooner.” 

Jaskier wipes the tears from his eyes with his free hand, not wanting to let go of Geralt’s hand. “Thank you for saving me.”