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 : Blood, anxiety, depression, sickness. Implied sex scene (nothing graphic). Emotional and physical whump

Chapter 3 : Broken vow
(3 day after)

###

Philippa had no explanation to give to Dijkstra for the blood on Radovid's hands. He was not hurt. There were no sign of infraction or common magic use in the room. She could feel some chaos but nothing she could identify properly. Maybe she should keep an eye on him during the next few days. She never noticed magic relative things about him but maybe someone was magically trying to reach him. And she couldn't let another mage play with her toy.

For the moment, Dijkstra and her had to manage his panic attack, which she was convinced it wasn't simply about the mysterious blood on his hands. Radovid had a hard time coming back to reality. He was confused and was mumbling some incoherent things about flowers and dreams. It took him almost a full hour to properly calm down and think straight. But then when asked what happened, he said he that he forgot. Philippa didn't need to read his mind to know that he lied. He had the same expression he usually used when he was passively resisting her at the court. He was hiding something. She was sure of that.

The day passed quite normally after that. The king was his usual self. Seemingly ignoring everything Dijkstra and herself were saying. Never approving or rejecting their decision, but totally closed. For the moment, his attitude was not causing any problem but soon she would have to push him on her side. Her politic agenda could not suffer much delay.

The next two days though, Radovid grew agitated. He almost didn't sleep. Whatever happened that night was still scaring him to death but still he refused to speak. She didn't need much more. She had to penetrate his mind and look by herself to find why. And maybe more importantly, who or how.

###

Radovid wanted to know how Jaskier was doing but that dream was the most disturbing thing he experienced. It was too weird, too real... For weeks his mind was full of flower metaphors and very intimate dreams about his bard. He had also this recurrent vision of the White Wolf holding a badly hurt Jaskier but nothing as raw and detailed. To be fair, he wasn't sure what to believe. Things changed when he dreamed about that slender old man telling him that Jaskier would need him to survive. The blood was a proof in itself that he was somehow there when Jaskier had been hurt. And that was scaring him to death. Maybe someone was magically playing with him while he was sleeping. And that was sending him into a paranoid state and provoking insomnia.

The problem was that he couldn't go without proper sleep forever. He had little naps which from he woke up in total panic each time and after a few days the sleep deprivation was already taking a toll on him. Naturally, Dijkstra and Philippa couldn't let him go like this either.

This was perhaps the only time the chief of Redanian Intelligence agreed with the sorceress on his safety since she made him their new political toy. Their puppet needed to be convincing as a monarch.

They commissioned a physician to prepare him something for dreamless night. He publicly rejected the offer of Philippa using magic to help him and he wanted someone exterior to the court to make the potion for him. So both the sorceress and Dijkstra were forced to comply. Also, although it was an uncomfortable position, they accepted without complaining.

###

Philippa was charged to supervise the preparation of the potion, even if she had the order not to touch anything. She was overwatched by Radovid himself who asked to see the process.

It was made of herbs with strong effects on the brain. Literal drugs to be clear. Philippa hid her smile. This was perfect. She just had to play low profile for some times and with some simple magical alterations she would be able to cast from afar later, she would have the perfect melange to force Radovid into a drug induced sleep but still let him dream. And with some luck he wouldn't be able to remember much. She had to see. She had to know.

Even if he couldn't bear Radovid, Dijkstra was more concerned for the king general safety but she reassured him, telling him that she was doing that to ensure that no mage was taking control over him.

So they let him enjoy two nights of dreamless sleep before taking advantage of it.

###

The curtains were partially open. The moon was barely giving enough light to see in the room, but perched on a chair's back, her owls eyes could see like in daylight. Watching the prone silhouette of the king wasn't what interested her and she wasn't found at all about mind reading, because it was exhausting, but this time she had to.

She regretted it for the most part as Radovid's drugs induced dreams were hallucinogenic and heavily sexual oriented. No distinct faces. Just silhouettes. So many phantasms he was satisfying. All male. She mentally sighed.

She knew him to be a party animal and attracted to men, which was a problem in her long term plans, but she didn't know he had such a strong appetite for flesh.

Mind reading was hard to do in general, but dream reading was worse, because the dreamer's mind had a tendency to create some warnings and reveal the presence of the observer. She was proud because hers were very discreet and metaphorical. The warnings were hard to read, especially for a drugged consciousness. The signs of her presence were like birds shapes appearing here and there, or feathers.

But then she noticed other shapes and metaphors beginning to crawl inside his mind. There was flowers, as he mentioned in his shocked state, few days ago. She couldn't feel any chaos in the room so that was probably just memories, but it was very strange.

Pleasure was all he knew. Radovid made love again and again... He was barely aware of what was happening. Just the sensations. But soon something with those anonymous silhouettes he was satisfying his hidden inner phantasms reminded him of someone. Someone he loved so much. Someone he was afraid to reach again and also to loose.

The flowers were the first sign. Roses, on the sheets of his bed. Dandelions between nobler flowers in a vase on a table. A blue pansy as a tattoo, on the wrist of one of his anonymous lovers. And he had blue eyes... Those blue eyes that belonged to the love of his life.

He remembered his feelings, not the name. Then he felt danger. But he couldn't put the finger on it. Radovid knew that he had to wake up now, but his mind was slow and numb. He couldn't stop the dream even if he wished to so he had no choice to fall into new unbearable metaphors.

Philippa was beginning to loose patience when finally a strange vision formed in Radovid's mind. From another bed story with strange flowers metaphors, she jumped into a very dark place with him. She felt his fear just before. He unconsciously knew what was coming. The dream was difficult to form in her mind. She had spent too much time watching uninteresting sex scenes and she was running out of chaos. She got a mere minute of it, a bit blurry and disjointed.

She saw him on his knees crying in an infinite red roses field. His hands were bloodied and he was cupping a single blue petal. Then a white wolf came forming out of tin air. His snowy fur was tainted with blood. He sat in front of the king, and howled. Radovid howled with him.

What stroke her was the emotions. There was love. A very strong love feeling. And pain. And sorrow. Radovid was in love ? Yes... Deeply in love.

Again she always knew his sexual penchant. He always had short adventures with men and a strong attraction to male bodies in general. But feelings. That was something new and dangerous. Because love is a very powerful emotion that can lead to both amazing things and catastrophes.

As she was loosing control over her spell, she reluctantly pushed herself out of his mind.

She flew silently to the bed, perching herself on the bedhead and observed the king, upside down. Radovid was slightly agitated. His eyes were moving quickly under his eyelids, hint of a dream phase and he was shivering slightly, as if his muscles spammed. He seemed to fight something. She couldn't feel chaos anywhere. She concluded it was a simple nightmare.

She was certain that was she saw had meaning nonetheless and she didn't want him to have more than he could so she decided to use a little bit more magic to wake him up, hoping that the drugs would help to fracture his memories.

She casted the spell, while taking her flight out of the room. She went to the cold fireplace, flying up through the chimney, emerging outside, and she slid silently on the cold night wind to the only open window of the castle : Dijkstra's room. She morphed back into her human form.

- "We have to talk." She said to him.

He looked at her, raising an eyebrow, and nodded.

###

Radovid woke up, sweating and breathing hard. He had a nightmare, he was sure of that. His first reflex was to look at his hands. They were clean. He knew that was important somehow but the dreamless potion was numbing his mind and he couldn't focus more. His dream was already fading, leaving just a few sensations. The drugs in his system were still active and he plunged rapidly into another sleeping phase.

A few minutes later, in the corner of the room, on the same chair Philippa watched over him, a shadow appeared, projected by the cold moonlight. Radovid's breath slowed down progressively as he was falling asleep deeper and deeper. The shadow stretched unnaturally as what was causing it was still invisible but moving.

It came next to the king, creasing the sheets at his side, and pushing on the mattress, as if someone had sat on the bed. Radovid, unconsciously shivered as something whispered to his ear.

He was in the garden near the roses parterre. The sun was high but he was cold. He walked to his brother's tomb. Immediately something seemed odd. It was hard to focus though. With great effort he saw the details. The royal eagle symbol of Redania was replaced by a flower shape on the grave stone. Looking harder, he realised that the writing had changed too.

Here lies Julian Alfred Pantkratz, aka Jaskier, beloved bard of Oxenfurt. His heart sunk but then he realized that there was no death date, just his year of birth.

Suddenly there was someone by his side. The same cloaked figure he saw on the battlefield. Blurry, indistinct, and out of phase. He couldn't see her face and her voice was strange.

- "Don't be afraid, Red Rose. I wish you no harm. But if you love him, you have to face horror and pain with him. Face it with him. Don't leave him alone. He needs you."

The woman disappeared before he could ask something.

The shadow vanished and the pressure on the mattress lifted. Radovid shifted in his bed and slowly the drugs erased the last figment of his dreams.

In the cold hearth of his fireplace, a white owl feather, darkened by the soot in the conduit, fell silently in the ashes.

###

An owl was hooting nearby. Regis was looking absently at the fire. It was his turn of watch. They had travelled far today. Even pushed the horses a little bit to much for his liking. If tomorrow was the same, he would have to talk to Geralt.

Cahir and Milva were sleeping but the witcher wasn't... As always. The mutant was a restless man from the beginning. His need to find Ciri was burning in his core, like a animal instinct he couldn't repress. But he was more agitated than the usual.

- "If you really can't sleep, let's talk a bit." Proposed the old man, whispering to not wake up the others.

Geralt didn't reply. He was to proud to ask for help and too stubborn and proud to say what was disturbing him. Regis had a pretty clear idea though but helping to get things out of a very introverted man with a lot of scruples on the top of that was an almost impossible mission. The incident with Jaskier had pushed him over the edge. It slowed them considerably but also woke up very bad things in the monster hunter's head. Five days of fear and buried feelings for a simple human had ravaged Geralt's inner beliefs.

It was impossible for anyone in the group not to see that Jaskier loved the White Wolf to death, but the ordeal had revealed that the Wolf loved his bard too. Not the same way. But it was strong and now really painful for him.

Regis understood clearly that Geralt had always have a hard time dealing with feelings and things like that even if his actions were showing. But this time his actions were not that clear to see as positive, even by himself.

- "Do you thing Jaskier is doing fine ?" Finally asked the witcher, just above a whisper.

He knew that Regis could hear him, even speaking that low. The vampire was surprise that he formulated things that clearly. Yes, the bard well being was in the heart of his restlessness.

- "What do you want to hear, Geralt ? You already know the answer." Replied Regis. The witcher sighed.
- "I don't want to hear : dead."
- "Then he is alive..."
- "You don't believe it."

Regis was sad to see Geralt like that. He knew that leaving Jaskier behind was one impossible decision to take for him. In a way it had to be done, but he knew also that the witcher did it for the wrong reasons. Sure, he wanted to save his friend's life but it was more about not to witness him die... And he was trying to convince himself that saving Ciri was what made him choose.

There was a slim chance that the bard could survive, with the help of the healer - and the love of his Red Rose he hoped - but he had seen many men die from less. The witcher was beginning to feel the bite of guilt. The guilt to have broken a promise and lied to a dying man. To his best friend. Regis didn't want to make him feel worse. The mission they had was hard enough in itself. At least, if Geralt could find his daughter, it would light his heart. So he chose not to tell him the truth. More of a sweet lie.

- "I have to admit that he is a surprisingly tough man. Maybe he can pull trough." He smiled.
- "Yeah, he is stronger than he looks..."

He is more fragile than you believe... Regis thought, keeping his worries inside.

###

The old healer was exhausted. She looked like a woman in her early seventies but she was way older. Her druidic connection with nature granted her longevity, just like mages and sorceress with their chaos use, except she let time print her body. She sat on the big armchair next to her bed foot. Her back hurt after three intense days to take care of her patient and sleeping in this chair instead of her bed. He was certainly not out of the woods yet but the fact that she was making so progress was encouraging. She couldn't explain why though. The man those strangers had left with her was fighting as much as he could to live and it was truly the only thing that kept her going. She had to salute and honour his resilience.

Her tired eyes dropped on the fabric she had put on his belly to protect the wounds she had cleaned and redressed once more. Despite her best efforts she couldn't stop completely the oozing for now. The damages were massive, she was to old to share much vitality with her patient and he was so weak that she had to focus her healing spell on some specific tasks only. The first one she had chosen was the infection that was drain all his remaining forces, so she had to take care of the rest the normal way. It was not enough, she was aware of it, but he was still there, fighting with her to keep that tired heart of his beating and taking the next breath.

She let some tears run as she was suddenly kind of overwhelmed. She had chosen to get away from humanity a long time ago and preferred the company of animals for a good reason. That wounded man here just reminded her why she had fled. From the very little she had learnt of his journey, he was simply a collateral damage and a war casualty. She hated those words that hid the reality. Human madness. That what it was. She sighed and look at the lute in the corner of her room.

- "A poet on a battlefield... pure madness."

He moaned in his sleep as he slightly moved. She looked back at him and clenched teeth. His wounds were very painful and technically should have been lethal, considering the time he spent without any healing spell and the poor conditions he travelled. That Regis who insisted to spend some time with him did an excellent job with what he had though.

- "Tell the old Nelian what is keeping you alive, son ?" She asked softly.

Of course, he didn't wake up to answer her. She observed him a few more minutes, but soon exhaustion won over.

She didn't see a bit later when the shadows moved against the light of the moon, and in the middle of it two shapes appearing. A man with blond hair, seemingly looking down at the poet and a cloaked figure next to him whispering. They suddenly disappeared, unphasing with reality and the shadows moved back to their places. The old healer jolted awake as she felt something odd in the natural energies. She straightened herself and looked around. All seemed normal and the odd feeling was fading fast.

As she was sinking back in her armchair, she noticed two pale and half closed eyes looking at her. She got up immediately to come closer to the bard. He followed her movements. How could he be awake in his state ? She thought.

- "Who are you and where am I ?" He asked slowly with an extreme raspy voice.
- "I am a druid. My name is Nelian. I am taking care of you, son."

The man looked at her an uncomfortable amount of time. Believing he might have not understood her, she was about to repeat her presentation when he spoke again. It was coasting him a lot to pronounce each words.

- "Where is Geralt ?"
- "He is coming back soon." She replied with a soft smile, ignoring the fact that was the last thing he needed to hear.

The bard peered at her and then smile sadly, before closing his eyes.

- "My Red Rose was right... He lied..." He said just above a whispered.

He took a few painful ragged breaths and after some strangled sobs, he went slack. With trembling hands she took his pulse, anticipating the worse. It was weaker than ever but still there. She sighed in relief but she knew she had lost him. She returned to her armchair and let herself fall inside. Sleep caught her fast.

###

When she woke up at the first lights of the day, the first thing she did was to listen. The bard was still breathing. She tiredly got up and looked at him. A thin layer of sweat was pearling on his skin, and the bandages were tainted with blood... again. She peeled off the fabric revealing the inflamed oozing wounds. The skin was alarmingly hot. As she looked away, mentally arguing with herself to pursue or not her impossible task of saving this life, her eyes caught red petals on the ground. There were a few next to the left upper foot of the bed and looking around, she saw a few more near the bard's lute, in the corner of her room. She looked at the window. It was closed. The wind couldn't have dropped those inside. She picked up one, near her foot, and smell it.

- "Red rose ? I don't have roses..."

She looked back at the bard suspiciously, remembering the pike of magic she felt before he briefly woke up.

Mysterious mystery lol
Well this is where everything is complicated with the time ^^. I hope you'll stay on board.

See you soon.