Within a year of the Mountain incident, as Jaskier refers to it, things went from bad to hell in a handbasket in a short span. After returning to Lettenhove and gathering his things Jaskier wandered, setting up a network with Dijkstra from Cintra's borders to Redania.

He helped the fleeing people of the south that were running from Nilfgaard's forces and fled from the raid of Bleobheris after helping the druids grab all they could. He was in Brugge when Cintra fell when the news of the royal family was slaughtered by Nilfgaard.

Yet he held hope.

Songs of the White Wolf were sung in the dark on lonely nights, but Jaskier began his plans to separate himself from Geralt strategically. Writing and performing Burn Butcher Burn broke his heart more than he could ever say, even after the mountain Jaskier still loved the man.

When Dijkstra informed him that the White Wolf had been spotted fleeing the burning citadel, Jaskier knew that Ciri was safe. He made sure to keep in contact with the other Witchers, telling them all he knew over the Lark Pendant after Serrit came to him that Nilfgaard was hunting for the White Wolf but will take any Witcher associated with him.

The Sandpiper was born, in memory of Violet and Uval, smuggling Elves out of Oxenfurt and to Xin'trea.

Lambert and I made it safe to Kaer Morhen, are you sure we cannot persuade you to join us where it's safe Jaskier? Coën's voice echoed across his own over the rowdy tavern, a deep sigh of relief escaping his lips.

No, I am needed here in Oxenfurt, I'll be safe. Have you heard from Aiden or Eskel? He asked as he eyed the room, giving Emeila a smile as she poured him another glass of Est Est and passed on the information he needed for tonight's smuggling.

It was Lambert's voice who replied… Aiden is in Toussaint finishing off a contract, he will make his way here shortly.

A frown pulled at his brows as he rubbed the Lark Pendant, a sure sign that he was 'thinking and composing' to the outside world but his mind was on Eskel.

Eskel where are you?

I'm in Vizima, trying to deal with this Doppler. I've followed him for three weeks now and still haven't been able to catch him. It's like he's getting help… if I cannot find him soon then I'll be joining you in Oxenfurt and dragging you to Kaer Morhen with me. Eskel replied curt with no room for argument but by the goddess, Jaskier was not going to have that.

No, it's too dangerous here for you, make your way to Kaer Morhen, keep your head down and eyes out for Geralt, I have a feeling he may need you all soon… He urged. Please Eskel do not come here…

A long silence followed his pleas, a sure sign that Eskel was speaking with the others, now that was a fun happenstance they found out after a hunt gone wrong for Lambert. He called for Aiden but his voice roared down the bond to them both.

Very well, but I've heard whispers Jaskier, we're worried…

I can handle myself Eskel, I'll be fine… I need to go. He abruptly let go of the pendant and stood up, hand flicking the small journal close. It was the same one he had begun to make of all the towns that were blacklisted, but he had added to it now. Letters to the others in case something happened.

A lump formed in his throat as he turned to face Essi, she knew the truth now, all of it and as he passed over the small book, she cast him a long-measured look. "Are you sure this is what you want to do Jaskier?"

His Medallion was a heavyweight in his coat pocket. "There is no other way, tonight I'll smuggle the last of the elves from here and head south, I need to make sure Lev made it safe to Brokilon with my own two eyes. If something happens, send this to Lettenhove to Ferrant, he knows where it'll need to go."

"Very well Jask, I will do as you ask. It's been a pleasure." Essi replied softly, pulling him into a tight embrace.

"Goodbye Little Eye, be safe." He whispered into her ear and let go, it was time.

Somewhere unbeknownst to Jaskier, a girl finds a wolf in the forest.

X

The tavern that Dijkstra had placed him in was loud and booming, the scent of ale and sweat mixed in with the breeze that wafted in from the docks. It was cold almost bitingly so and wasn't that fitting that the air felt like his heart?

Dijkstra's note was burning to ash in the hearth, … sending a mage called Rience to find the girl… was all he could read of it as the fire ate away the rest. Oh, it was much longer than that, one that had Jaskier preparing his things to flee earlier than expected.

"Bard, the rooms full," Kos explained, his dark eyes serious as the hat he wore was pulled low over his too slightly pointed ears.

"Thank you, Kos." He replied before grabbing his lute and plastering on his performing smile, eyes catching his figure in the tarnished mirror briefly. He looked like shit, many nights of sleeplessness and smuggling… oh and the drinking, can't forget that too… had taken a toll on him. Ironically, he was looking more like his former self than the human one.

He strode downstairs strumming, Fishmongers Daughter to a roaring crowd. His eyes took in every face and spotted those familiar with ease but the unfamiliar ones had him on edge, it was only thanks to years of training and practise that he was able to push on like nothing was bothering him.

But there was someone that caught his eye, a figure hunched at a table that made the medallion in his breast pocket vibrate. Fuck.

Kos shuffled around the room expertly and down into the back hidden room where the Elves were waiting, Emeila passing out drinks and food of the like while winking over at Henri at the door making sure all were well behaved. Song after song he performed, taking requests from the drunken patrons.

"BURN!" Someone screamed and he felt his heart crack, this was your plan, Julien, stick with it.

His fingers shift and he begins to play the song he most hated to write, to perform. He pours his emotions into it, cracking open the wound, even more, to draw people in to make them believe that he no longer cared for the Wolf when it was the exact opposite still.

"Ladies and gentlemen, you have been the most beautiful audience. Remember to toss a coin if you can." He cheered his voice burning with the force of it and moved into the next verse.

After everything we did, we saw
You turned your back on me…

He pranced around the room, his breath fogging in the air like puffs of smoke, laughing as a woman plucks the hat from his head with a tempting wink and coy smile. It made him nauseous as they sang with him, Butcher falling from their lips in a way that had not since he wrote Toss a Coin.

Fingers slowed as the force of what he has truly done sunk in once again, this time harder than before as the faces he always ignored floated around his mind like a ghoul. His voice grew soft and pained, more heartbreak dripping into his words than he intended as his eyes lost their focus.

Burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn, burn
Watch me burn all the memories of you…

Applause snaps his mind back into the present, bile churning as he inhaled shuddering breaths. Emeila passed over the glass of Est Est with a worried frown, followed by a thin soup. The woman was a blessing, she knew his moods better than he did and knew what his stomach could handle at any given time.

He spent the rest of the night playing the part of a drunk Bard high on the praise of his adoring fans while keeping an ear out for any hint of news about the Elves or even whispers of a Witcher. Soon enough the night began to grow into day once more, the patron's steadily piling out into the night humming and singing his songs till there was only he, the staff and one dead to the world drunk.

Though Henri got rid of him quick with a tap and a coin, closing the door firmly behind him and leaving him to Emeila's disapproving stare as she handed him another drink.

"Bard," the voice caused his entire body to freeze, eyes snapping up to the woman he had not seen in a year and didn't expect to see for a long while yet.

His eyes took in the torn purple cloak, damp with whatever mess she had found herself in. Pale as Geralt on Cat, hair frayed and messy. She was a far cry from the elegance she usually was. It was her eyes that caused him to pause though, tired and haunted but oh so relieved to see him.

"Witch. What are you doing here?" He asked clearing his throat as he heard the serious gruff. "And what fresh hell did you just crawl out of?" Now that sounded more like the Jaskier he was around her.

Yennefer flashed a brief smile. "A sewer, what's your excuse?" she asked with a smirk, tiredly walking towards him and pulling him into a hug.

"Hugging… we are hugging… Yen what happened? Why are you here?" He asked desperately, pushing her back to look her in the eyes assessing her properly once more.

Yennefer was not one for hugging, him at least, goddess knew what she and Geralt got up to after their nights fucking but, now is not the time for that Julien. If she was hugging him then something was seriously wrong. There were no visible injuries that he could see on her exposed skin, no wincing when he ran his hands down her arms and over her shoulders.

"It's been a long month." She chuckled thickly, uncomfortable with the way Jaskier was staring at her. "I miss the days when my biggest problem was an ever-present, sing-songy twit."

She had never seen the Bard like this, intense in a way that rivalled Geralt. Even with her quip, he didn't let up his stare, in fact, it seemed to intensify and for the first time in a very long time, Yennefer felt exposed.

"Don't try to misdirect me Yennefer, why are you here?" Jaskier asked taking a step back and leading her over to the bar, hands grabbing the first thing he saw which could be barely classed as ale.

"You're the Sandpiper." She uttered after a moment, taking a grimacing sip of the ale.

Jaskier snapped his head up, he had a choice to deny it or to confirm it. "How do you know that name? Why are you even looking for… because, you're part elf… I had completely forgotten."

Closing her eyes Yen took a breath to calm herself and looked at the bard once more. He truly did look horrible, with bags under his eyes that seemed to be screaming at her in pain, chalky skin and stubble. His hair was waxy and limp, a far cry from the peacocky bard he usually was. "I need your help."

Surprise lit in Jaskier's eyes, his jaw-dropping ever so slightly at the statement. Though that surprise morphed into something indescribable as his eyes flickered to somewhere over Yennefer's shoulder to a shadow that moved in the hall, he was up and moving before she could stop him.

This time it was her turn to be surprised as she found Jaskier holding Cahir by his throat, a dagger pressed firmly to his throat with bared teeth. She quickly moved to their side, her hand resting on the arm that held the dagger pulling slightly and finding surprising strength. "He's with me. It's okay."

Burning blue eyes, the colour of a storm burned into her, "Do you know who this is? What he has done!? You killed my friends, you hunted Cirilla."

By the end of the sentence, the words only came out in a rumbling snarl that Yennefer didn't know Jaskier could even make. Blood had begun to trickle down Cahir's throat as the dagger pressed ever so slightly into his flesh, yet he didn't move, he couldn't. Something told him that this human, this Bard was extremely dangerous.

"Jaskier please, I wouldn't be asking you this if he wasn't needed." Yen plead, watching the war that raged on within Jaskier.

"Fine," he growled letting the bastard go and facing the witch once more. "We leave Oxenfurt at nightfall. There's a room at the stairs you can bathe in, till then he is to stay out of my sight, if I see him again before tonight I will kill him, understand?"

"Crystally." She replied, watching as he stalked past her and up the stairs. She could see the chaos that clung to him tightly ripple, only because she has been around long enough to recognise it.

"He is not human, is he?" Cahir asked, hand going up to wipe the blood from his throat.

Yen turned to him with wide eyes. "If you asked me that even a day ago I would have laughed and said yes he was but now, now I am not so sure."

X

Jaskier woke to a familiar feeling and predicament, though it had been a very long time since he was knocked out and kidnapped except this time it was to a chair and not to a surly White Haired Witcher. Rope bit painfully into his wrists, chest and legs, the chair groaning as he shifted his weight when testing it.

There were eyes on him, a figure deep in the shadows of the tavern, a shade darker that gave his captor away. Fuck, he should have just had Kos take Yennefer and Cahir to the ship, he should have left when given the chance.

He began to ramble as a distraction while he tested his senses and categorised his exits if needed. His boot dagger was gone, his coat tossed carelessly over the table to the right. Fuck, both his daggers were no longer on his person and his lute was gone. Rage and grief swirled around him as his voice continued to warble terrified.

Fire sparked in the shadows, highlighting the figure for a flash and then again and again, slowly growing closer with each flash until he was right in his face, the flames' heat licking at his flesh. Fuck, a mage, of fucking course.

"Hello, Jaskier." The bastard greeted with a mockery of a smile. "I think it's time we had a little chat."

"About?" play dumb Jaskier, find a way out.

The mage chuckled and lit some of the candles around him, "about Geralt of Rivia and his Child."

All sense of fake fear dropped from Jaskier at that sentence, his back straightening and the snivelling being replaced by a piercing cold look. "How about you go fuck yourself."

"Oh, I do love it when the prey fights back, makes it all the sweeter when they break." Reince chuckled before throwing a punch to the Bards face, his head snapping to the left with force.

"Is that all you got? My mother could hit harder than you." Jaskier mocked, spitting the blood in his mouth at his captors' feet. Laughter escaped his lips as punch after punch reined down upon his person, the mage screaming in fury.

"Tell." Punch. "Me." Kick. "Where." Another punch. "They are!"

It went on for hours, the sky going from a pitch black to a silver grey of sunrise, yet Jaskier still said not a word on where he knew Geralt would be heading. Fuck no, he would never betray a fellow Witcher let alone Geralt.

His body burned with fractures, split skin and weeping wounds, the worst was his hand. Reince had gotten sick of physical force and decided to try and persuade him by burning one finger at a time, earning a shattered nose for his troubles.

"Such loyalty this Witcher has earned from you," Reince growled frustrated and slightly impressed. "But you'll break soon enough, they always do. Tell me where they are going!"

"I've not seen Geralt in months, not that it matters to you," Jaskier grunted out, shaking the haze from his mind. He was pushing his body to the limits, three days with very little sleep and fourteen hours of torture were taking a toll. "Even if I knew where he was, I would never tell you, I'd rather die. So do your fucking worst."

A manic grin pulled at the mage's lips. "With pleasure bard, with pleasure."

A solid mass of power slammed into Jaskier, causing his chair to careen backwards and shatter on impact. He rolled to his hands and knees, laughter escaping his lips, blood splattering beneath him with the force. It only grew louder as he used the table to shakily pull himself up, his hand going from coarse wood to smooth leather.

"What's funny bard?" The Mage asked, his head cocked to the side.

Jaskier pulled his medallion from his coat and slipped it over his head, a hysterical edge creeping into the laughter as the curse twisted and churned, the glamour it caused dropping. He could feel the strength return to him, the pain intensifying but he could deal with that easily enough.

"It's my turn now." He replied darkly, turning his head towards the mage and staring at him through the parts of his hair, taking pleasure as he took a step back.

Gold eyes burned bright, eyes that Reince was familiar with and not prepared for.

A portal began to swirl around him but Jaskier was faster, Ignii bursting from his fingers letting out a fireball fast and almost blue with heat, catching the fire fucker in the face just before he disappeared into the portal.

"What the fuck?" Yennefer asked in shock from behind him, the bottle she grabbed to sell her ruse dropped out of her lax fingers and shattered on the ground.

Jaskier whirled around, Quen forming before him till he recognised who spoke. "Hello Yennefer, didn't think I'd see you here still."

"Jaskier, what the fuck? You're a Witcher?" She demanded stalking forward, her anger fizzling as she saw his pallor grow sickly. "Jaskier?"

"Fuck," He replied stumbling towards the stairs, he needed to get to his room, he needed the Swallow that was freshly brewed yesterday. "Help me."

Yennefer rushed forward, grunting with the effort as he leaned on her for support, he was heavier than what she expected. Questions could wait till he got where he needed to go. The stairs were a hard task, grunts of pain escaping his lips as he limped up them, nearly collapsing against his door when he finally made it.

"Pass me that," He ordered pointing to the potion, knocking it back with a grimace as it seared through his veins. He could feel the wounds close, and energy restoring but the pain remained, his curse lashing at him on the inside. Fuck, he struggled to even breathe. "You knew I was cursed."

"I did, Geralt did as well but we thought something minor, not… not this." Yennefer explained as she watched him strip, taking in the sheer amount of bruising and injuries from his torture on top of old scars.

Clenching his eyes Jaskier ripped the two chains off his neck leaving only the lark pendant and his medallion and left them on the small table for Pris or Essi to find, a sign that things went south and to carry out his plans.

"I'm cursed to be human, this." He gestured to the medallion hanging on his chest. "This lifts it, no, it forces it back but it's painful, lashing at me like a thousand knives, stealing my breath and clenching my heart. The longer I wear it the more chances there are it will kill me."

Yen surged forward her hand going for the Medallion in fear, stopping as Jaskier caught her hand. "No, no… I cannot run from this anymore Yen. This… this is my choice."

Horror washed over her, followed by rage. "I never thought you'd take the coward way out."

"You think I want to do this!? You think I want this to happen?" Jaskier snarled as he began to gather his armour, pulling it on. He had not worn it since he discovered what exactly Levana had done when he became Jaskier. "I don't have a choice!"

"There's always a choice!" Yennefer snarled blinking as Jaskier reared back like she had slapped him, his eyes going glassy for a second as a flicker of agony twisted his face.

It was like that night all those years ago with Levana except this time Jaskier was sure he made the right choice.

"We need to go, can you portal us to Brokilon?" He asked shaking himself from the memory.

"I can't… I told you… I have no magic." Yen replied watching as Jaskier sighed and nodded, he indeed forgot that.

Closing his eyes and weighing the pros and cons, he moved to the bag and pulled out one of the Lark Pendants. "Then we must part here, you need to go, Yen, it's not safe here. I'll get Kos to smuggle you out of Oxenfurt, he'll take you to Nenneke, she may be able to help you. Take this, if you need me you know what to do."

Yennefer's eyes flickered from the pendant to his eyes, dropping to the one at his own neck. The weight of the gift had her heart aching, the trust. These pendants were not cheap or easy to make and if they were designed specifically for Jaskier then they carry a part of his own form of chaos in it. The fact that even though magicless he trusted her enough to carry it, meant a lot.

"I do." She replied thickly and slipped it over her head. "What will you do?"

A feral smile pulled at Jaskier's lips, the scars twisting and making it even more beastly. "Why Yen, I'm going hunting. Geralt is being hunted and I will not have that, can't. Now go, Kos will be at the stables by now just tell him I sent you and you'll be accompanying him, hurry!"

Yen nodded and turned to leave, pausing at the door as he began to put on his armour properly. "He doesn't deserve you Jaskier, not after breaking your heart for surely that is what he did to make you write that song."

"Yet, I can't help but love him anyway," Jaskier whispered back still to her. "Goodbye Yennefer of Vengerberg, may the Path be easy for you."

She left, her heart heavy, why did she feel like that was a final goodbye?