For Whumptober 2021:
'All Trussed Up and Nowhere to Go'
"You have to let me go", bound
It all happened so fast.
One minute, Jaskier was talking endlessly about a pretty girl he once sung to in a town square. The next minute, he was frantically calling out for Geralt and sliding along the ground, ankles caught by two very large, very thorny vines.
Geralt was more than a little shocked and annoyed. Jaskier attracted so much trouble...but then again, after his words on that day…
The witcher spent the majority of this past year making it up to his bard, who he'd found only a few days after that day, singing a rather heart breaking song in some backwater tavern and drowning himself in alcohol.
Jaskier had been rather pissed to wake up next to Geralt the next morning, and rightfully so. What he'd said was uncalled for.
So that was how they ended up here, a year later, trying to make their way to a town Jaskier knows of.
Geralt instantly got off Roach, stumbling only slightly on the uneven ground, and dropped to his knees to grip Jaskier's frantically flailing arms.
The bard looked up, fear and pain clouding those blue eyes in an awful cocktail of misery, and Geralt winced at the blood staining the rocks and Jaskier's clothing.
Whatever it was that had Jaskier in a death grip was refusing to let go, and even went so far as to let out a bellowing roar somewhere nearby. Probably its last noise on this wretched planet, if Geralt's stormy expression was anything to go by.
A sharp tug almost knocked the witcher off balance, while Jaskier let out a pained gasp.
"Geralt- Geralt, there's thorns-" Jaskier said between panicked gasps. The witcher grunted in acknowledgement, glaring at the vines while thinking of a way to help his bard. The thing roared again, vines tightening around Jaskier's legs.
This was unlike almost anything Geralt had ever faced, and he knew of quite a few evil creatures. This was obviously some monster plant or some shit, so it could be susceptible to fire…
A whisper saying his name drew him out of his thoughts, and Jaskier was looking at him with a grim expression.
"You have to let me go," He said, a pained look crossing his face when the thorns dug deeper still.
Geralt practically growled his disapproval, glaring into Jaskier's cornflower eyes.
"No way in hell, it'll fucking eat you or some shit, I can't risk that." He firmly stated. Jaskier shook his head frantically.
"If you let go, it'll practically lead you right to the thing," the bard reasoned. "And my legs won't, y'know, be torn to shreds like they are right now."
Geralt's jaw tightened at the realisation that Jaskier was right, but it still didnt make it any less painful
"Geralt…"
That one word, his name, said so pleadingly...but if Jaskier died...
"Geralt, stop brooding and kill the fucking bitch or I will."
The witcher's jaw tightened, and he huffed. As much as he hated this, he knew it was the only safe solution.
"If you get eaten, I'll smack the shit out of you, bard." He growled, and with that, released Jaskier's arms.
Geralt saw the flash of a cheeky grin on Jaskier's face as he was whisked off into the brush, and felt his fear only grow tenfold. He dashed after the trail of disturbed dirt, flattened grass, and the thin stripe of blood leading deeper into the forest.
It was eerily silent, like Geralt had stepped into a completely different universe. Even what little sun peeked through the leaves wasn't comforting.
There was no sign of any flowers, or other cheerful plants. A thick ivy covered everything, from bushes to small trees, and poisonous plants dotted the place like freckles.
In the center of the clearing he had followed the trail to was a massive plant, its leaves dotted with black, and thick vines spread out from its roots. Each of the vines had thorns that were a good five inches, and serrated to boot.
It made the witcher sick to think that those things dug into Jaskier's legs, how much pain he was actually in.
The plant itself looked like a fly trap, but way bigger and way meaner. It had Jaskier in the air by his ankles, and the bard was shouting profanities and insults at the thing.
"-cking plant! I'll have you know my best friend is a witcher! He kills stupid fucks like you! You overgrown goddamn salad- Geralt!"
Jaskier yelled his name, relief and joy heavy in his voice. The 'overgrown salad' whipped its head around to face Geralt, a low growl rumbling deep in its throat. Or...stem? Whatever it was.
Geralt drew his swords, preparing to fight, when he noticed that his necklace was acting up.
So a mage then. Easy enough, right? But where was the mage?
He scanned the clearing with sharp eyes, still not letting Jaskier out of his sight. For once the bard was quiet, letting Geralt think through whatever he needed to do, yet Geralt could tell he was in pain.
The plant gave a great roar and smashed a thick vine down where Geralt stood not a second ago, his witcher instincts causing him to react quickly and dodge the incoming blow. He slashed at the vine while it stuck in the ground, cutting through the plant material with actually a lot of difficulty.
It was like cutting down a small tree with nothing but a paring knife.
Salad screeched in pain, leaves curling at the ends, while Jaskier let out a whoop and cheered Geralt on. He cut off pretty quickly though when the vines wrapped around his legs tightened.
Geralt darted in and swiped through the massive leaves, feeling his sword connect with the stem, and ripped it out. Salad screeched again, flinging a vine wildly and whapping Geralt into a tree. Hard.
The witcher saw stars, ears ringing with the force of the blow.
A figure stepped between Geralt and the plant dubbed Salad, laughing maniacally.
"My plan works at last! Finally, someone dared trespass in my woods!" They crowed, flinging their hands out wide.
Geralt glared at them, yellow eyes blazing while he attempted to stand.
"Leave the bard out of this. I was the one who trespassed, not him." He demanded, adjusting his grip on his sword. The other sword was flung somewhere into the underbrush when he was tossed like a ragdoll.
The mage tutted, a feral grin on their face. "Ah, but he was travelling with you, yes? No witcher would willingly put up with all that annoying chatter, right? And I happen to really dislike witchers."
Jaskier looked slightly crestfallen, and Geralt's heart twisted in his chest with what he was about to do.
"...he means nothing to me," Geralt growled, eyes flashing coldly to emphasize this. "He has done nothing but be a nuisance, I was going to knock him out and dump him in the next town. If I killed him, I'd surely be hunted."
The mage paused, frowning. Geralt refused to look behind them at Jaskier, a firm glare trained on the fucker.
Salad seemed oddly docile too, not moving. Its grip on Jaskier had loosened slightly, and its head was turned towards the mage.
"I don't believe that," they said after a long moment, their androgynous features twisted into a confused frown. They sounded like they doubted themselves though.
"It's the truth. Kill him or don't. You're still on my hit list right now, so good luck. His death hardly matters to me."
The mage stared at him, long and hard, face totally neutral. Everything was dead silent for long moments.
As soon as the mage opened their mouth, a large vine smashed them into a tree, Salad roaring triumphantly in the background. Geralt blinked in surprise at the bloody mess, before looking back up at Jaskier.
That's that problem solved.
He lay on the ground, frame shaking as he laughed, throwing his hands up and whooping. The end of a vine high-fived Jaskier, and Salad grumbled softly.
Geralt rushed to his bard's side, panicked, and looked over the wounds on his legs. Jaskier looked up at him with those big, expressive eyes, smile falling when he saw the witcher.
"Jaskier…" He started, mind blanking when those blue eyes met his. A big grin lit up the bard's face, and he gestured up at the hulking plant behind them.
"Overgrown Salad didn't like that fae - yeah, that was a fae by the way, how cool is that - because the fae took his home! I managed to convince him that we were here to help! He's a big softie, aren't you, you're such a good little plantie plant~"
Jaskier cooed and patted Salad's head (mouth??), ignoring the sad look on Geralt's face.
"Jaskier, I'm sorry," the witcher said, wincing at the blood clearly staining Jaskier's expensive pants. The bard blinked, looking back up at him.
"For what? Saving me? Honestly, Geralt, I'm the one who's sorry for getting caught in the first place-"
"No," Geralt interrupted, glaring firmly at Jaskier. "Those things I said back there weren't true."
Awkward silence fell between them. Salad grumbled, concerned for his new friends.
"Oh." The bard whispered, a pained look crossing his face. He looked like he was going to argue, but held it back, glancing away from Geralt's puppy dog eyes.
"I don't want a repeat of last year," Geralt grumbled, guilt twisting low in his stomach. "So I'll say it again. I do care about you, Jaskier. You aren't a burden."
Jaskier sniffled a little, giving a short laugh. "I know that, you blundering oaf. You've made that clear this past year, and for that, I'm grateful."
The witcher's lips twitched into a hesitant smile, and Jaskier smiled sunnily up at him.
"Now, can we please take care of the thorns in my legs? Pretty sure they have a paralysis element to them, I can't walk."
part one of 'matthias can't write endings' :)