Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of the witcher. Those are property of Mr Sapkowski and I using Netflix series canon mixed with the books.

Warning : Description of burns, blood and body marks. Some violence (nothing too graphic). Mostly anxiety and depressive state. Swearing. Humiliation.

Chapter 4 - Day 2 - A candle in the night

How long did he stayed in the same position? He didn't know. But he kind of slowly grew more and more alert as the time went by. He was not well but his brain was unfoging progressively. Flashes of memories rushed back in his mind. The dark room… the chair… the judge… the pain inside… The question… What was the question ?

He shivered. There was a question, asked again and again, and there was pain. This was not like the fire mage but it was similar, right ? Torture. Pain to make him speak. But what for ? Did I speak ? He didn't have time to even try to process the shock of the first gruesome experience that he's been tortured again. No surprise his brain just blocked everything. Or was it for another reason ?

Either way, he had to get over it fast. If the judge didn't get what he wanted from him, he risked to brutalise him again. If he did get what he wanted he would be soon dead. Well, that was the promise from the very beginning... Navigating those kind of considerations was far for pleasant but protecting his secret were important to him. He maybe stupidly still caring for his best friend, but he would protect Geralt as much as he could. But the white wolf wasn't the only one for whom he shouldn't speak. He had the elves to protect too and the net of people helping them in the shadows.

He closed his eyes, trying to find what he missed.

The room… the chair… the judge… the pain inside… the hand on his belly… You're dying from internal injuries. You know that right ? Was he ? Maybe… Surely… He was still bleeding after all and he could feel there was something very wrong. The pressure inside his chest and head were not normal. The fact he lost consciousness several times either. Yes he needed to rest but this was not resting, it was ceasing to function for various amounts of time. And there was his inconsistent memories… Was that the reason he was back in his cell ? My head too fussy ? Am I too weak to endure ?

Slap… He remembered suddenly. Who are you working for ? It sent shivers down his spine. Did he speak ? His heart began to beat stronger inside his too compressed rib cage. It hurt. Slap… Who are you working for ? Slap…

He touched his face with his good hand. The swelling was worse. It was not a construct of his mind. The dark room existed wherever it was. He'd been interrogated in the poor state he was already in. They didn't care. He would be dead soon anyway but they stopped. Why ?

He opened his eyes and caught on his damaged hand, but it was almost normal. No more blood. How ? He was sure he'd seen blood before. I am hallucinating ? What is happening here ?

He was so confused. He closed his eyes again, focusing on trying to find in his disrupted memory if he had spoken or not. If this moment was even real… But he couldn't find more than those figments. He couldn't even put them in the correct order.

He tried to sit very carefully. His head pounded hard at the movement but it was kind of tolerable. He was less sick than when he arrived. On the other hand, his chest felt heavier. He turned his head to his right and found his mantle and vest on a bucket. And the mice were exploring his clothes with great interest. Next to him there was the empty pitcher and the same plate as before. How long it's been ? He realised then that the sun was disappearing and the place growing darker. Hours… If anything was real that lasted hours…

###

Slap... He jolted awake at the sound of the metal door opening. Again, he lost consciousness. He grimaced. His left eye was still swollen shut and his vision was blurry but he recognised the man in robe, entering his cell. Well he recognised more the robe than the man, to be fair.

Something had changed in his demeanour. He seemed angrier and impatient.

- "What a pitiful sight." The man said with a large grin. "Jaskier, the songbird of Oxenfurt, slumped against a prison wall. You should see yourself."

- "I don't need to. I already feel like shit. Thank you very much." He replied. His voice cracked. He was thirsty and his throat hurt.

- "I see we still have a sense of humour over there. This is impressive. I didn't know bards could be that tough."

- "What can I do for you, sir ?" Jaskier asked, trying to keep his composure.

- "I guess you don't remember then. But I wouldn't be surprised. You're not very well, aren't you ?" Jaskier just glared at the man. "This is a conversation we already had. But this time, I'll make you remember." The dark room was very real then. New confirmation.

The man in robe made a side step and let two guards with spears and a woman in a simple green dress enter. By her clothes, she didn't seem rich by any means and she looked quite uncomfortable. She had long dark hair and green eyes that almost matched her dress. She was pretty in her own ways, he couldn't help but notice.

- "On your feet." The judge ordered. The guards came closer.

Jaskier struggled to get up. The pain in his head and chest spiked. He broke a cold sweat instantly and shivered.

- "Examine and heal him." The man continued, speaking to the woman. He was visibly annoyed. "No evidence. Even for an expert."

- "Master, I can't. I am an herbalist. I sell plants to healers, I am not one."

The woman had a soft voice. Jaskier scoffed discreetly but at the same time he pitied the poor girl forced into this situation. He forced a defiant smile on his face, to push on the humiliation for the authorities to try stupid things to accomplish their dirty work.

- "Oh don't underestimate yourself." Cut the man. "We know you can use magic. You've been denounced. You know I just have one word to say to accuse you of preparing poisonous plants and you'll find yourself hanged before this one." He added, pointing at the bard.

She looked down instantly. Her hair dropped and revealed the tip of pointy ears. Jaskier's smile faltered instantly. His heart sank.

- "I'm sorry." Said softly the woman looking back at him. He sadly smiled back.

- "It's ok. I understand."

With trembling hands she reached for his shirt. The guards began to laugh.

- "She never touched a man before, or what?"

- "You know this one isn't exactly shy." Added the judge. "Or maybe she is one of his conquests. But I doubt a man with good taste will take on your filthy race. Oh… but maybe you like what you see ? Savage."

Jaskier was boiling. The poor girl was ashamed and didn't know how to react any more. He doubted that seeing him half naked will spare her embarrassment but he chose to shorten the experience so he pulled his shirt off himself. Lifting his arms was something he hadn't imagined that painful but the movement almost made him stop breathing. The guards reacted immediately, menacing him with their spears. At least they stopped laughing.

Two days after the ordeal, the bruises had fully extended on his torso and coloured his pale skin. It was a pretty unpleasant sight. The elf gasped.

- "This is too much, sir." She exclaimed, forgetting her first embarrassment. "If I heal him this extensively, the magic will stay on his body for a long time and could be traced. No expert would be fooled." She said. The man in robe clicked his tongue in disapproval.

- "Well, how long would it last ?"

- "At least two or three weeks."

- "That's too long. What can you heal that will leave no trace that he's been tortured in a few days ?"

She detailed him from head to toes and they shyly replied.

- "I can't, Sir."

The man in robe reached for her arm and twisted it. Jaskier tried to protest but a kick with the haft of a spear connected with his damaged ribs. He doubled over, gasping, suddenly fighting to make the air in.

- "Stop!" Screamed the judge. "Don't make it worse."

- "This is not what you think!" The elf cried in his grip. "I don't know the real extent of his wounds but even if I wanted to heal what appears the worst, there would still be proofs that he's been tortured… His right hand… fire magic… I can't hide that."

The man in robe released the elf. Jaskier didn't notice the order, cause he was still focusing on getting his breathing right, but the guard at his right pushed him against the wall, and blocked his arm up for his superior to access the damages, once again. I still don't feel anything. He cried internally when the man manipulated his fingers. The judge finally let go of his hand.

- "Angry husband huh?" Scoffed the man in robe. "This is far better than I imagined…" Jaskier gulped. "Seen helping with a rogue mage. Tortured by another using forbidden techniques. Lied to the authorities. You know, you were already meant to be hanged, and those accusations just add to the list."

- "But ? I guess there is a but, because you would try to find a healer for me now. I remember informing one of your handymen that I required medical attention. He was pretty clear. Dead for dead, why bother ? So what's new ?" Pushed Jaskier. The judge grinned.

- "But... I received orders specifically to erase all traces from your little problem there and to keep you alive. You see, when I find a man in a lot of troubles like you, I always enjoy it. Because you are like fishes caught on a line, trying to escape the trap you fell into. And my job is to find the line, follow it to the fishing rod and the man holding it. You, mister, are a marvellous fish caught in a net of events. I am pretty sure that there is a link between all this but not an obvious one. The order to keep you alive came with a threat. You see, I don't appreciate that. So, famous bard Jaskier, why would someone want so urgently to erase all the proofs that you've been tortured ?"

- "My pretty face is my brand I guess." He tried to joke nervously.

- "Don't play the fool with me. Who are you working for ?" The man growled. The question… I was already asked.

- "I guess that my first answers didn't satisfy you then."

He was playing a dangerous game here. He was trying to make him believe he remembered the dark room interrogatory clearly, based on those vague memories he had. It seemed to have an effect, but not totally the one he wanted. The judge looked at him suspiciously.

- "Please tell this man what real condition he is in. So maybe it will help him understand that he doesn't have that much room to play."

The man pushed the elf in his direction. She put her trembling hand on his chest and murmured something in elder. He felt a tiny tickling running under his skin. When she finally removed her hand she looked at him sadly.

- "There are tears inside that are bleeding slowly. In your chest and in your head. Some could have healed but it seems that you've been beaten repeatedly, reopening those internal wounds. They are now killing you."

You're dying from internal injuries. You know that right ? This was confirming it then… He felt strangely detached from all this. He was trapped. He was dead if he'd speak. He was dead if he'd not. The choice was how.

- "I don't mind seeing you agonizing slowly." Added the judge, as to answer his silent thoughts. "But what's inside that damaged head of yours is precious. It was precious for that mage that tortured you. It is precious for who I serve. It is precious for those you are working for apparently. The thing is that I received the order to try and get those informations by someone and to erase whatever happened to you by another. The first didn't care if you died, slowly drowning in your own blood, or at the end of a rope in front of the masses. He was not betting on you. But as soon as the second one expressed his wish to preserve you and to hide evidence of harm, you became more interesting. A key component if you will." The man began to walk back and forth in his cell. "I am sure you are smart enough to know what is best for you."

- "The easy answer would be to trust the man that wants me alive and pristine but I have the feeling that I should trust the other, in order to make my death less painful. Because if the second asked you to patch me up I guess that you won't follow that order strictly. Did my fussy bleeding inside head get it right ?" He pushed.

- "Good, there are still some functional brain cells in that. And see, you're not an idiot."

- "You still need to hide the evidence though. And the more you hurt me, the harder it will get. Especially in a short time." He smirked.

- "There are other ways to hurt you. Less barbaric, more efficient, more durable. You know, I suspect you are a peon under someone important 's boot, trying to work out meaningless things such as helping the elves to escape the country. If that proves itself right, your fame won't protect you from dishonour. I don't know how much you care about your life as an artist, but I know what will be the reaction of your audience here and the direct consequences on your work. We'll burn it all. Dead or alive, you'll be a ghost. Enticing, right ? Now, can you help him ?" Asked the judge, turning to the elven woman.

Jaskier tried to keep it together but the revelation was too close to the truth for some points and the elven healer seemed to connect informations. She looked up and in her beautiful green eyes he saw a myriad of emotions. The name of the Sandpiper was known in the dark, as much as Jaskier was known in the light.

- "Yes." She said in fear. "But you said a few days. There will be an inquiry... "

- "Don't think about that. Just heal him enough to be sure he won't die from his current wounds..."

- "I can heal the tears that are threatening him and accelerate his natural regeneration. It will take a lot on him but it will make the worst of the bruises disappear within a few days. If..."

- "I don't care how. Do it."

The guard released him and she approached. She put a hand on his chest once again and began to speak elder. He strangely recognised a very old elven speech. Words were a bit strange but he was sure it wasn't anything magic. After the thirst iteration he understood. He did his best to keep a neutral face.

- "I know who you are, little bird." She was saying.

When she saw recognition in his eyes, she switched to healing incantations, with the same diction. He felt the warm magic penetrate deep in his body and something cracked in his chest, as probably his damaged ribs were setting back. They were more than bruised after all. He felt deep buried pain settle back slowly. Then the elf moved her hand to his face.

"Heal. hand. Discreet. Hurt. Fire. Forbidden." She said just once, like it was another spell. The dialect she was using was so old that it demanded all his concentration to translate and he got just a few words.

She was clever though. Using elder speeches no-one but a few humans knew to communicate with him. He tried to smile with his eyes only to let her know that he was ready. Her body hid her movement when she took his wounded hand in her free one. She incanted a new spell. He felt his head getting lighter as the swelling was decreasing a little bit. But as she warned him, pain came from his hand. He felt like the psychopath was burning him all over again. The worst thing was not the physical pain itself. It was the mental one. The experience was sending him in a very dark place in his mind. A place he didn't want to be. His future self not able to play the lute. Just some tiny burns huhu... But burning his hand was a symbol. No one will see how damaging it could be for him and how big the sacrifice he made for his muse. He closed his eyes and tears began to fall. The healer had to stop her ministrations when he could not hide his emotions any more.

- "I'm sorry. This is all I can do." She muttered in common language, releasing him. "His body will heal faster in the next few days. Now it depends on his constitution only. Some wounds could take longer to heal in the end. Some won't heal completely..." She looked discreetly at his trembling hand.

- "Don't worry. I'll find something to delay inspections." Said the man in robe joining them. "How long before the magic leave his body?"

- "A day maybe two. But the effects will be noticeable longer. There is a lot to heal, so..."

- "I see. That's perfect."

- "But the fire magic..."

- "Doesn't matter. I have practical solution for that." The judge smiled.

Jaskier was feeling more and more light headed. He barely caught the allusion to his hand being cut down. Probably that the elven magic was already doing its job. Faster healing meant strain on his stamina. He had so little left, since he didn't eat for two days now. His knees gave out and he slid to the ground, back to the cold wall. He was trembling now, exhausted.

- "The official inquiry will begin as soon as soon as the evidences are hidden. After that, the real inquiry will begin. Mine. And we have that fragile creature to patch you up if need be." Said the judge with a shark smile.

- "I did what you told me to do. Now, I won't heal him any more if you torture him." The elf protested with a small voice.

- "You don't have the right to have an opinion on the matter, elf." He replied, looking at her with anger.

- "I won't be your tool !" She seemed to grow in confidence. "I won't let you."

- "And can you tell me how ?" The man laughed.

The elf seemed lost for a second, but then she looked at Jaskier and gave him a sad smile. She spoke elder again. Slowly for him to get all the words right.

- "You are a candle in the night for my people, little bird. I won't serve your tormentors but I can't help you either." The man in robe was fluming at her side, demanding she used common language. She ignored him. "Sacrifices are to be made for my people' sake. Find your way out of the cage if you can, little bird. I pray for you but I am so sorry..."

Jaskier opened wide eyes, understanding what she had in mind.

- "Don't…" He muttered, unable to speak louder. His general weakness was overwhelming.

But soon everything went just pure chaos. The elf threw herself at the man in robe, kicking and screaming. The reaction came immediately. The guards intervened brutally to defend their master. The horrible conclusion to this madness happened outside the cell.

He heard a terrifying scream and long and painful gurgles. The silence itself was the most horrible thing that followed. Jaskier put his arms around his chest trying to keep his fleeting warmth. He felt so sick. Bile was rising suddenly. He had nothing else to throw up. The man in robe reappeared, dishevelled, with marks on his face where the woman had dug her nails in his flesh.

- "What did she say ?" He erupted.

- "That doesn't matter any more..."

- "Oh yes it matters. Either way you speak or..."

- "You'll kill me ? Yes exactly… Nothing new..." Said Jaskier trembling harder by the minute.

The man in robe looked at him with intensity. He was a monster but far from an idiot. He perfectly understood his answer. The woman they killed had put him in the line, just to prevent him from being interrogated further. She implicitly made him complicit while forcing them to kill her and lose leverage. She condemned him to imminent death to prevent any leak from the secret net of elven smugglers as himself. The short time he had left was only the one the judge would need to justify the murder of the elf healer in the prison to those who didn't care seeing him dead, or to find a good reason to kill him to those who wanted him alive.

- "I am not done with you, bard."

- "Yeah… I guess."

With that the man left his cell with the guards, leaving him isolated with his dark thoughts. He was tired. So tired. He was healing but...

- "What for ?" He muttered to himself. "All wasted..."

Exhaustion caught him as he was, half naked, back to the wall, while the last light of the day just disappeared by his small window. You are a candle in the night for my people, little bird... But that light was flickering. The healing magic still working in his body sent him back to oblivion.

Well, I tried to put some of the book Jaskier in there. The one that knows many languages and that knows political machination.
I hope to see that in S3.

See you soon!