✧ Crispy ✧ 26 ✧ she/her ✧ Greek ✧ This blog is mostly about Hannibal, The Witcher and Good Omens but I reblog non-fandom stuff too ✧ I'm also the admin of the Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer tumblr community ✧ You can find my ao3 account here ✧ My main blog is @crispyliza ✧
"I'm choking from the taste (but I can't help but swallow)"
Chapter 6: Soul Contract
Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6
Summary: The deal is done and Jaskier copes with the aftermath.
Click here to read on ao3
(Please check the tags before reading)
“You can’t possibly be serious Your Majesty-- this trade is in no way equal!” Dijkstra yelled in disagreement, standing up abruptly and slamming his hands on the table.
Radovid shot him a warning look, displeased by his outburst. Tensions between the king and his advisors still ran high. They only recently started working towards some sort of reconciliation for the sake of the kingdom, and the balance was still too fragile for the Spymaster to make such a big show of defiance against the king, but he couldn’t help it.
Dijkstra took a deep breath to get his emotions in check and sat back down. “I understand how important this… gentleman is to your Majesty, but I merely worry a decision like that would put Redania in huge disadvantage.”
Radovid sighed and scratched his chin. “I can tell why you’d see it that way Dijkstra, but think about it.” He came to stand behind Jaskier and placed his hands on the bard’s shoulders. “Julian here is one of the White Wolf’s dearest friends! From his point of view, Julian came here to be with me of his own free will because we’re madly in love. Surely he wouldn’t carelessly put his friend in danger by attacking us.” He tightened his grip and Jaskier winced as the king’s nails dug into his skin. “Especially if said friend is tied to me.”
He let go and went back to his seat behind the desk. “Besides, the White Wolf isn’t just conquering kingdoms for the fun of it. He’s only doing it to the ones he deems unsafe towards non-humans. If we try to limit the discrimination against them and give them equal rights he should have no reason to show hostility.”
Dijkstra was silent for a moment, considering. “…Do you think we can make all these changes before the White Wolf comes knocking on our door? The sentiment against the elder races is deeply rooted in this kingdom. People aren’t going to change their ways easily.”
Radovid scoffed. “That’s what laws are for dear. We may not be able to make a difference right away, but we have to show we’re trying. That alone will be enough- especially if Julian vouches for us.”
Philippa looked at her nails nonchalantly. “And to ensure Julian’s cooperation, a soul contract will be needed.” She said and turned to Dijkstra. “I’ve got the perfect spell for it too. Our king gets to keep his boytoy forever tied to him and Redania stays safe as a result. It’s a win-win situation.”
The Spymaster frowned in contemplation before relenting. “Fine. But we must get this over with as quickly as possible.”
The king nodded in agreement and all three of them turned to look down at the still kneeling bard. Jaskier flinched at the sudden attention after his presence was mostly ignored for the majority of the conversation. He gulped and avoided their gazes. This was really happening.
The king’s quarters were chosen as the best place for the binding ceremony to take place, being in the safest part of the palace and away from prying eyes. Jaskier and Radovid were left there alone for a moment while the sorceress went to gather the necessary items, and the king spent this time reading through documents as if it was any other day, but the smile on his face betrayed his good mood.
He glanced up at the bard, who was sitting motionless on the bed, staring off blankly into the distance with his head hung low. Radovid rolled his eyes and abandoned the documents to come sit next to the other man, taking the bard’s hand in his own. When that still didn’t snap Jaskier out of his trance, he tagged at it harshly.
Jaskier blinked a few times and turned to look at Radovid, whose gaze softened when he saw the haunted look in the other’s glassy eyes. The king raised his free hand to gently stroke Jaskier’s cheek- as if the bard was made of crystal, fragile. As if Radovid hadn’t spent the past nine months trying his hardest to break him in every way possible. He seemed to have mellowed out now that he knew for sure he’d won.
“Why the long face love? We’re gonna be together forever- this is cause for celebration!” He leaned in to kiss the bard’s cheek and giggled. “Almost like a wedding don’t you think?”
Jaskier couldn’t tell if the king was saying this to mock him or because he genuinely believed it. Nonetheless, he chose not to respond, too lost in his own thoughts to care. Ever since he’d arrived in Tretogor he’d tried so so hard to keep it together. To stay positive. To find joy in the little things. Would that even be possible after this spell was done? How binding would it even be? He wished he’d asked for more details beforehand, though his questions would have probably gone unanswered anyways.
The king was starting to get annoyed by Jaskier’s silence, but he didn’t get to do anything about it since that was the moment Philippa chose to appear inside the room, through a portal that created a light breeze before it vanished.
With a flick of her fingers, various furniture started to move away to create space in the middle of the room. She used chalk to draw a magic circle on the floor before beckoning the other two closer and making them stand in front of each other at opposite sides of the circle.
The bard watched her place candles, crystals, feathers and animal bones at what seemed like specific spots inside the circle, before entering it herself and standing in the middle, arms reaching out.
“Take my hands, both of you.” She said calmly. After they’d both obeyed, she scrunched her face in concentration and started reciting words in Elder. The air in the room started swirling around them, blowing the candles out and leaving the three in complete darkness. The magic circle started to glow red.
The red light gathered in the middle of the circle and climbed onto the sorceress, who closed her eyes and tightened her grip on Jaskier and Radovid’s hands, causing the magic to course through them. It felt like static was making its way all throughout the bard’s body, getting more and more painful as time went on. He bit his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood in order to stop himself from screaming.
Finally, the sorceress stopped chanting and exited the circle, though the magic continued unperturbed. She brought the men closer to each other, pulling them inside the circle, and let go, making them hold each other’s hands instead of hers. She took Radovid’s free hand and placed his palm on Jaskier’s chest, right above Jaskier’s wildly beating heart. The sorceress looked exhausted, but she kept her chin held high.
“Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove and King Radovid V of Redania both consent to the following: The latter will have ownership of the former’s soul in return for promising not to engage in war with the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia. Julian’s life will be tied to Radovid’s and if the latter one dies, so will the former. If the White Wolf attacks Redania first, Julian will lose his life since his part of the deal will be broken.”
Suddenly, an excruciating pain started radiating from Jaskier’s heart. It felt like it was being squeezed and the skin over it started to burn as if something was being carved on it. This time the bard wasn’t able to muffle his screams and they echoed loudly throughout the room. This moment felt like it lasted hours but it was probably just a few seconds because it ended just as suddenly as it started.
Jaskier immediately fell to the floor, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. He sat there for a moment to rest, dry heaving.
“So it’s done?” Radovid asked, looking a lot better than the bard. He was staring down at his palm in curiosity. “Yes, it’s done.” Answered Philippa hoarsely, who was also trying to catch her breath.
The king’s gaze snapped to Jaskier as a sinister smile creeped on his face. He closed his fist and manifested a glowing red chain that extended until it attached itself to a matching red collar that appeared on Jaskier’s neck. He tugged harshly, forcing he bard closer to him.
“W-what is that?” Jaskier asked, horrified. The sorceress chuckled. “Just a little something to keep you in check. Its radius extends all the way to the outskirts of Tretogor but you won’t be able to go farther than that unless the king is accompanying you, and he can bring you back to him whenever he pleases.”
Radovid looked very pleased by this add-on, and he made sure to let Philippa know. The two started talking about her compensation as they made their way outside the room. Jaskier chose to stay behind as he struggled to come to terms with what had just transpired. When his raging mind showed no sign of calming down after a while, he decided it’d be a good idea to go get piss drunk instead, but before he went looking for alcohol, he stopped in front of a large ornate mirror and pulled his shirt up.
There, right over his heart, was something akin to a tattoo- made of scar tissue instead of ink- depicting a crowned eagle holding a scepter and what seemed like a banner with a cross on its chest.
Redania’s coat of arms.
...
Life moving forward was much the same as it was previously but with one notable difference.
Since it was now physically impossible for Jaskier to escape, he was finally allowed to leave the palace premises. The first time he stepped outside he almost wept with joy, but the direness of the situation prevented him from shedding any actual tears.
Being outside was intoxicating. The direct sunlight was almost blinding to his eyes, and Jaskier’s skin tingled with warmth on the places it touched. Other than the sun, the weather was less than ideal, what with winter being right around the corner. The greenery had mostly withered already, and a small fog was created whenever Jaskier exhaled, but none of it mattered. If anything, the cold air that entered his lungs was refreshing.
Autumn used to be Jaskier’s least favorite season, because whenever the temperatures started dropping, it signified the end of yet another year on the Path, which meant the time for him and Geralt to part ways was also coming near- unless it was one of the rare occasions Jaskier accompanied the witcher to Kaer Morhen. Somehow, the anticipation of their parting was worse than the months that followed which they spent apart. Out of sight out of mind as they say.
Now that none of the above were any of Jaskier’s concern anymore, he was able to at least partly appreciate the season for the first time in years.
He hadn’t spent as much time in Tretogor as other Redanian cities, like Oxenfurt or Novigrad, but he still remembered the way to a few places, though it was mostly inns and brothels.
Seeing as sex was something he was currently far from lacking, for better or for worse, he decided to stick to the inns instead. The one he used to frequent most in the past was called ‘The Merry Maiden’, and so it was the first place he chose to visit. The man who owned it was thankfully the same as before, and he recognized Jaskier instantly.
“Well well well, if it ain’t the famous Jaskier! We’ve been waiting for ya to show your face ‘round here ever since we learned ya’ve been staying in these parts. I started ta think ya’d forsaken us common folk since ya never left the palace.” Piotr, the innkeeper, said when he spotted Jaskier.
“What nonsense my friend! I’ve just been really busy; the king has been throwing banquets almost daily if you can believe it.” Jaskier said with a strained laugh, taking a seat across the bar. Piotr immediately placed a tankard of ale in front of him. “Good ta know. I see ya’ve yer lute with you, ya plannin’ on playin’ tonight?”
Jaskier downed the ale in one long gulp and wiped his face with the back of his hand before turning to look at Piotr with an expression of mock offence. “But of course! It’d be an insult to my name and my bardic integrity if I didn’t!”
The innkeeper chuckled. “Then get ta it lad! Business has been shite lately, if ya do yer magic I’ll let ya have dinner on the house.”
The bard all but jumped off his seat in excitement. “No need to tell me twice old pal!” He said and took to the stage, elated at the chance to play for his preferred audience for once instead of the Redanian high society that saw him as barely more than a toy at best or a piece of meat at worst.
The tears he couldn’t shed before threatened to come out as he sung the bawdiest songs in his set list and his fingers trembled as they plucked the strings of the lute, though he managed to at least keep his voice steady thanks to all his past training. This was the closest Jaskier had felt to happiness in months, and he wished this moment could last forever.
What a useless thought to have, he thought bitterly. The performance went great regardless, and the crowd that gathered to watch him made sure his tankard was never empty for long.
After his set ended, most of the patrons got up to leave, but Jaskier stayed behind to flirt with Piot’s daughter, Anna, as she cleaned up around the place. Things between them were starting to heat up when the bard felt a tug at his neck that made him yelp. He looked down to see the collar from before, whose chain stretched across the room and disappeared into the wall. Jaskier turned to look at Anna in alarm, an excuse ready at the tip of his tongue, but her eyes hadn’t left his face.
“Is something wrong?” She asked in confusion.
Oh, Jaskier sighed in relief, she can’t see it, thank fuck.
“Nothing’s wrong my lady, but it is getting rather late. You should probably finish up and go to bed before Piotr catches us.”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t protest. “Fine. Don’t be a stranger ok?”
“I wouldn’t dare.” Jaskier said and kissed her hand, making her blush and giggle.
His smile dropped when she disappeared from his vision. The bard wasn’t ready to return to reality yet, but he didn’t have choice. He was barely out the door when the tugging started again. He stumbled several times as the chain dragged him across town, all the way to the palace, and he was out of breath when he finally made it inside.
Radovid was waiting for him in his room while lounging on the bard’s bed in his nightclothes. The king frowned when he took in Jaskier’s disheveled appearance and clicked his tongue. “Your little outing went well I presume?”
Jaskier closed the door but stayed frozen at the entrance. “Y-yes your majesty, I am deeply grateful for this opportunity.” The king stood up and sauntered towards him, closing the distance. “I see.” He said and started unbuttoning Jaskier’s doublet, making the bard shudder, and not in a good way.
The king leaned close to whisper in his ear while his hands continued working on the buttons. “I’m glad you had fun darling, but I have to admit I missed you terribly.” He grabbed Jaskier’s nape and squeezed harshly. “If you were as grateful as you say, you wouldn’t have made me wait this long. Don't let it happen again.”
The only thing Jaskier could do in response was nod.
...
Being able to go out was a nice bonus but it didn’t take long for it to lose its appeal since Jaskier’s hellish life in the palace continued on without respite. The bard’s “workload” increased more and more as time passed, and when the nobles started realizing Jaskier wouldn’t say no even to their most depraved desires, they took full advantage.
Asphyxiation was one of the tamest kinks he was forced to engage in, but one night early on, a particularly eager baron took it too far.
Jaskier was laying underneath the man on all fours as the other pounded into him. A piece of silk ribbon was tied around the bard’s neck, and the baron took great pleasure in cutting off Jaskier’s airways by pulling at the ends until he went dizzy, at which point the nobleman loosened his hold to allow the bard to breath once more.
This pattern continued until Jaskier could feel the baron getting closer to his climax. He cheered internally, already imagining the hot bath he was going to take once this was over, but when the nobleman gave one last tug to accompany his release, he didn’t let go. It was awfully reminiscent of the time Radovid stopped playing nice, and this only served to make the bard’s panic even worse.
Jaskier struggled to hold himself up with one arm as he used his other hand to claw at the ribbon on his neck, but it was no use. The baron was too far gone in his post-orgasmic bliss, and when he finally noticed what was happening, Jaskier had already gone limp
When the bard woke up again he was in the infirmary and one full day had passed. The healer ran to inform the king of his return to consciousness, so Jaskier had a short moment alone to gather his bearings.
I almost died.
It was a thought that by all accounts should have terrified him, but the only thing he felt was regret. Regret that the baron didn’t finish the job. Regret that he survived. Jaskier had never been a suicidal person, but recently he’d started toying with such thoughts more and more.
The bard had many qualities, positive and negative alike, like his outgoing nature for example, or his flair for the dramatic. But his most unique quality was his ability to feel things much more intensely than other people. It was a gift and a curse all at once, because while it helped him form deep, meaningful connections and become an outstanding artist through his ability to impart a piece of his soul in everything he created, it also greatly amplified all his negative emotions as well, sadness being one of the strongest amongst them.
Jaskier was someone that wore his heart on his sleeve, and even though it had been trampled on time and time again, he couldn’t make himself stop. Even now that he was experiencing the absolute worst time of his life, he wasn’t able to numb his pain by disassociating, no matter how hard he tried. He was mentally present for every torturous second, and he felt Everything, even when drunk out of his mind.
After taking all of the above into account, who could fault him for considering death as a possible solution to his predicament? But despite how much he’d love to escape this eternal torment by ending it all, he knew it was impossible, not if he wanted to maintain his and Radovid’s deal and keep Geralt safe. So he went with the next best thing.
Jaskier was first exposed to fisstech on one of his rare outings. He had found himself back at ‘The Merry Maiden’, only this time he wasn’t at the bar, but at Anna’s bedroom, doing a whole different kind of performance.
The were laying on her bed facing each other after the second round, both sweaty and breathing heavily, when Anna sat up and reached over the bard, taking out a small pouch filled with white powder from the nightstand drawer.
She gave Jaskier a cheeky grin before pushing him to lie on his back, and poured some of the powder on his chest, arranging it in three neat lines using his tuning fork necklace, before leaning down to snort one of them. She gave a contented sigh and fell back into the pillows.
“Oh fuck yeah.” She laughed. “Feel free to have a taste handsome, there’s more where it came from.”
Jaskier considered her offer. There had been many opportunities for him to give fisstech a try throughout his life, especially while he was a student at Oxenfurt Academy, but one of the most common side effects was damage to the respiratory system, and that would be catastrophic for a bard, so Jaskier always resisted the temptation.
But now he was at a point in his life where he had run out of fucks to give.
The bard swiped at one of the lines with his index finger, gathering some of the powder, and then opened his mouth to rub it on his gums as he’d seen others do. Right away, he could feel his brain getting foggy and his muscles relaxing, all his troubles melting away. He let out a groan of satisfaction and stared up at the ceiling with a loopy smile. How had he not considered drugs before? It was exactly what he needed, the perfect cure to help him escape his horrid reality.
Before going back to the palace, Jaskier traded all his measly earnings (gone were the days of luxury) for all the fisstech Anna had left, after ensuring from her a steady supply in preparation for the future.
That night, as some aristocrats used and abused him like usual, Jaskier was able to lay back and accept it easily from his vantage point up in the clouds, sheltered inside the safety of his own mind. No more buzzing thoughts or internal screams of pain.
I’m playing The Witcher (the first game!) on PC for the first time and I’m able to make my own screenshots for the first time and I spent way too long in the Prologue trying to get a nice shot of Geralt looking out the window in Kaer Morhen at night so that I could draw it…
happy pride to the bj scene where hannibal and will eat ortolans that food stylist janice poon named buddy and pedro after gay penguins from the toronto zoo
