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, but this is an alternate take of it.

Warning : Violence (some graphic - blood). Anxiety, depression, suicidal thoughts, rage, sickness. Emotional and physical whump

Trigger : This chapter contains a lot of whump, you are warned :)

So apparently, I wrote more of this story first than Bleobheris so here we are 😅.

Note : Radovid sees more than what I put in dream POV (italic). Everything I describe during his sleeping time is part of it. I simply chose another POV with a more normal way of telling the story.

Chapter 2 : Rage of the wolf
(5 days before)

###

Radovid had had this nightmare several times in the past few weeks but never as vivid as this night. There was so many details. Like he was there in person.

He was in the middle of a battle field, with two armies colliding and the mayhem following. At first he was afraid but no-one was touching him. He was like an invisible object that everyone knew they had to avoid. Soon Radovid realised that, even if everything was scary, he was not in danger. So he began to look around.

In the middle of this chaos, he saw an enigmatic woman in blue cloak moving out of sync with everything around. She was kind of sliding and, like him, she seemed to have no physical interaction with people around her. He couldn't see her face, but he could see a bit of a white hair braid. She disappeared in the crowd, as she walked toward the forest nearby. Following the example of the mysterious woman, he chose the same direction and pushed further to escape the chaos of the melee.

And as he walked by the tree line, a movement caught his eye. From one of the camp afar was running a horse with two men, followed by many soldiers who tried to intercept them. The riders were barely dodging their pursuers at first but they were progressively increasing the gap. One escape move changed their direction to the place he was hiding. They were now aiming for the forest, which was smart. When they came closer to his position, Radovid recognised them and his heart beat faster.

His Wildflower was clinging his dear life on to the White Wolf, watching over his shoulder where the ennemies were. He was screaming but he couldn't hear him. When he saw some archers escaping from one side of the war field and positioning themself in an interception course, he understood suddenly what was coming and that he would be the witness of his worst nightmare. This time there wouldn't be the shield of this usual metaphorical dreams. This was reality. This was Jaskier's past. Before that vision of him bloodied and battered...

The horse was breathing hard. The weight of the two men was too much. Geralt knew it and was aiming for the tree line to escape the soldiers. They were barely evading charges, but the danger was the archers. Hence the trees were their best shot. They were both already battered from the past days' abuses and quite exhausted but the adrenaline was maintaining them alert.

Geralt could feel Jaskier's fear, as he was clinging at his waist, his chest against his back. He could feel his heart beating fast and strong and the tremors on his firm grip. From time to time he was screaming some warnings for imminent interception. Geralt didn't tell him to shut up because two pairs of eyes were better than one and his friend noticed two deadly charges before him, so he was efficient somehow.

But all good things must end, and their lucky ride through the two armies colliding found its end in the worst way.

The first arrow grazed Jaskier's head and passed near his. The blood splashed on his face just before the bard screamed and jolted backwards.

- "Don't !" The witcher screamed. "Hold onto me, Jask !"

The bard obeyed and pressed himself against his back further, his head resting on his shoulder. Geralt felt the hot blood running down his shirt. He clenched teeth. He didn't know how bad his friend was hurt but he went for the lucky guess. Head wound always bleeds a lot. That could be simply that. He hoped... But his hopes where cut short.

Jaskier suddenly jolted against him and let out a strangled cry. The bard dug his fingers in his sides for a second before his grip loosened. Geralt was powerless to prevent his fall when he slid backwards this time. The horse panicked and made the move that made Jaskier dismount for good. Once the extra weight was off his back the animal doubled and ran faster. The horse was certainly not a Roach. It was a random horse he found at the camp, probably used to move cards and heavy stuff, certainly not for fast maneuvers on a war field, with two men on his back.

Geralt struggled to get him under control and the distance between his fallen friend and him grew alarmingly quickly. When he finally could turn around, he witnessed a pure nightmare.

Jaskier was lying face to the ground, and an arrow sticking out of his back. Far away two armies were colliding and three soldiers that certainly found in them an easy target were running in their direction. Followed by the archer that probably shot down the bard. Scared, his horse refused to move when he wanted to charge them.

- "Jaskier ! Get up !" He screamed, aggravating the fear reactions of his mount.

To his relief though, he saw his friend move. But he was too slow and even when he finally managed to get up, he was clearly fighting to stand. The right side of his face was covered with blood and his left arm was falling limp on his side in a slightly odd angle. Geralt could tell the bard was doing his best but was too disorientated to act efficiently. The witcher jumped off his horse, silently praying for the animal to stay around in his distressed state and ran toward his friend. But his bad knee just woke up at the wrong time. He tried, he really tried to close the distance quicker but failed…

When he saw the first soldier near Jaskier with a dagger in his hand, he screamed at his friend to move but, again, it was too late. Then it was like the time slowed down.

In his confused and pained state, Jaskier barely reacted to the first stab in his lower belly but he fell on his knees at the second. Geralt cleared his sword, closing the distance as fast as he could, but everything was just out of reach. The other two soldiers came to keep the bard steady and he saw the other shots in quick succession, followed by the brutal last one with a sick twist of the blade.

As the soldiers released him, Jaskier fell on the ground like a rock and rolled on his side, not to move again. Unaware of the real force of the storm running towards them, they ignored the enraged witcher to occupied to abuse their victim.

Radovid tried to stop the soldier when the dagger was pushed hard inside Jaskier's belly, but he was like a ghost. His hands just passed through them. He was crying because he was powerless and the man he loved was brutally assaulted. He dropped on his knees next to him when he was released and fell.

He looked desperately at his lover in foetal position trying to protect himself from further abuse. Those soldiers just found an easy victim to escape their fate of the battlefield and pretend they served their kings. Radovid felt sick at this display of sheer brutality.

One vicious and hard kick landed badly though and he rolled over. The shock and the pain cut his airways. His expression though was what shocked Radovid. That last kick might have been a very damaging one.

Suddenly the witcher was on them and he witnessed the rage of the White Wolf… He was terrifying but, at this moment, he was all he wanted.

- "Kill them !" He screamed as the mutant charged.

He regretted almost instantly his wish as the wrath of the witcher was the most brutal thing he ever saw. But it felt somehow right. During the massacre, he crawled back near Jaskier who has turned to his left side and was slowly bleeding out into the mud. With trembling hands he tried to reach for him... and to his surprise, he did. He didn't have to think more, even if nothing made any sense, he took a better position and put his hands on his bleeding wounds. The bard gasped in pain but Radovid didn't move. He could feel his body trembling under his fingers and the hot blood pouring.

Was it real ? In a way he hoped it was just a nightmare but he chooses not to take a chance and kept the pressure on the wounds. For a brief second, the bard opened his eyes and looked at him.

- "I am here for you... Do you see me, my love ?" Asked Radovid.

Jaskier didn't answer and simply closed his eyes again.

The archer stopped his course when he noticed the furious witcher charging the group and try to shot him. By pure reflex, Geralt used Quen twice to deflect the arrows without even looking at him. The archer had enough braincells to flee for his life before he was on them.

The last time Geralt felt so much desperation and anger was when Vilgefortz broke him and he failed his daughter. On that instant, it was inconceivable to lose Jaskier too… not him… never. He felt suddenly a surge of pure rage. A deadly instinct. A need to kill. And he responded to it.

He roared when he charged the enemy and murdered the soldier that hurt his friend first, in the most brutal way. He was almost delighted to see the fear and the pain when he slammed his sword like a hammer on him. He aimed to hurt so he broke as many bones as he could before ending his life, opening him in two to let him bleed to death.

Surely believing at first they had a chance against him, the two others soldiers chose to flee too late. When they witnessed the fate of their camarades, they tried to escape but the witcher was faster this time. Too close to them. And needed more blood to avenge his friend. So he killed them without hesitation, screaming his rage at their faces. The last thing they saw was his infuriated golden eyes and his mad expression as their own blood was splashing back on him under his assaults.

His need to kill was not fulfilled and even doubled when he turned round and he saw Jaskier's condition, but no one was threatening them now - as the armies were fighting from afar and no-one was paying attention to them - and his friend needed him urgently.

He ran back where Jaskier laid and kneeled by his side. His leg protested but he ignored the pain. The bard was on his left side, breathing hard. The arrow was broken on his back - probably when he rolled over - and the head had pierced off his shoulder. He couldn't see the wound itself hidden under his clothes but the shoulder had an odd angle, as if it popped out slightly out of its socket. The most worrisome part though was his mid section. Jaskier was bleeding quite heavily from the multiple stab wounds - not to mention his head, so his vest and shirt were rapidly turning red, and rivulets of blood were already mixing with the mud.

Geralt mentally catalogued the potential damages. Nothing he saw was encouraging. But he refused to think about the bad end. Jaskier would not die. Not under his watch. Yet he couldn't go easy on him if wanted him to survive. He needed the bard on his feet to help him on the horse and flee the war field while they still could.

Of course, the pain was too much for his human but to Geralt's surprise his friend did as he was told without saying much. He was crying, whimpering helplessly, but he moved and complied the best he could.

Miraculously their mount was still there. Maybe it could become a Roach, with some work, he thought. Climbing on the horse was a challenge in itself though, but they worked together and managed. Alas Jaskier's strength was fading fast. Geralt mounted behind him and blocked him against his chest. One arm against his belly, one hand on the reins.

They disappeared into the forest and galloped toward their camp, where the others were waiting. He didn't dare to look but the smell of blood was overwhelming and he could feel the hot vital liquid running down his forearm, while he was trying to keep his friend steady.

This was certainly not the best way to travel with this kind of wounds but the quicker he would return to the camp, the better he would have a chance to save Jaskier. He had nothing else in mind.

Radovid screamed when Geralt forced Jaskier on his feet and he lost that strange physical contact with his lover. But nobody heard him and he stayed on his knees shivering, looking at his hand covered in blood. He saw his Wildflower and the Wolf getting back on their horse and running out of this place, through the forest they tried to reach before.

Time shifted, accelerating, slowing down, the armies where everywhere now. There was fire and death in every direction. Radovid couldn't focus on anything and was suddenly pushed into the void. Everything went black.

###

In the Tretogor castle, in his room, Radovid woke up in a shock state. He felt sick to his stomach and his head was spinning. The first thing he saw, sating up, was the blood on his hands. He screamed, alerting everyone in his aisle. Guards and handymen rushed in.

Philippa and Dijkstra came just a few minutes after, finding him almost in transe, trashing in the arms of some domestics.

I hope you like the kind of supernatural aspect of it.
But was it real ? Did Radovid kind of save Jaskier in a none chronological order ? 😏 Well stay tune to figure it out.

Note : in the book, it happens sometimes, Geralt just snaps seeing Jaskier hurt or in danger. I wanted to illustrate that in my hard-core version of the arrow scene.

See you soon!