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“And you will die like him too. Alone”
“You can’t talk to me like that.”
It all happened in a haze. Distraught feelings bubbled to the surface. He was cornered, he was alone. He said things he didn’t really mean. Such was the way. He only wanted him to see. Needed him to see that if he didn’t rise to the occasion he would get everyone, including himself, killed. He couldn’t be that moping prince anymore. Jaskier couldn’t be the carefree bard. This was war. There was so much at stake. And now he was going to die. Executed at dawn alongside Geralt. At least he would be by his best friends side until the end. Maybe, with him there, Jaskier could face his death. Geralt, for his part, was relatively quiet. Gods, he had been tortured. Jaskier heard him scream. And now he was calm. If only Jaskier could take some of that calm for himself.
The swoosh of the tent being pulled back brought them both back to themselves. No. It wasn’t time yet. It was still dark out. He wasn’t ready. Radovid stumbled inside.
“So this is where they’re keeping you,” he mumbled, looking around the small space with a mild disdain. Jaskier felt Geralt’s eyes on him.
“What are you doing here?” he just about managed to say.
Radovid took two steps forward, stumbled again, and then decided to lean against a wooden beam. Drunk.
“Straight to the point, then?” There was something hopeless in his false humour. “I heard what the Cintrans are planning to do with you.”
Jaskier didn’t dare speak. He didn’t dare get his hopes up. Their reunion had been so painful, they had been terrible to each other. There was no way he was going to help them out of the good of his heart. Not now. He was king. And what were they.
“I have a proposition for you.” He bent down until they were face to face. “I can talk to them in the morning. I can have you both free at first light.”
“What do you want in return?” Jaskier’s mind was racing with thoughts that he couldn’t pin down. He had no idea what was coming. He never knew where he stood when he was with Radovid. And that was what scared him the most. Radovid leaned forward and brushed his fingers against his cheek.
“Be with me,” he murmured, “just for tonight. I only ever wanted you, just as you are. And I have to know.”
“Know what?” the bard whispered, swallowing down a lump in his throat.
“That if it weren’t for all this, you would have chose me.”
Jaskier looked away.
“Radovid I-”
“Shh. I don’t want to argue now. Please.”
“Go with him.”
Jaskier turned his head sharply. He’d almost forgotten Geralt was there. His friend was holding his gaze steadily. After a moment, he nodded. Jaskier nodded in turn.
“Okay,” he said, turning back to Radovid, “okay.”
Radovid produced a key from his pocket. It wouldn’t be until later, when they were out of danger, when he could finally take a moment to breathe, when the pain of his injury had begun to subside, that he would wonder why Radovid didn’t just let them escape there and then. Radovid took his hand and pulled him to his feet. He was suddenly aware of how dirty he was. What a thing, to feel self-conscious now. He paused only to turn back to Geralt.
“I’ll come back for you.”
Radovid’s tent was close by. The soft light from the candles, the warmth. It looked so inviting. He couldn’t remember the last time he had spent a night indoors, let alone anywhere comfortable. Radovid let go of him in the entryway and poured wine. He offered one out to him.
“Drink?”
Jaskier shook his head.
“No, thank you.”
“Come on,” Radovid pouted, “you promised.”
With a sigh of reluctance, he took the proffered drink. Only a small sip. He wasn’t about to lose his head around him. Whatever his feelings for Radovid – and whatever Radovid’s for him – this was the lion’s den. One wrong move and he was dead. And Geralt alongside him. He laid down his cup and pulled off his coat.
“Steady on,” Radovid joked, “you only just got here.”
“Yes,” Jaskier agreed, throwing his coat over a chair, “and I know what I’m here for.’
“Oh come now. I’m not an animal, Jaskier. I like to woo a man first.”
“Oh, yes. I remember you wooing me quite well when you wanted to get your hands on Ciri.”
Something changed in Radovid’s face. Hurt. Regret. He couldn’t quite tell. He put his own cup down and stepped into Jaskier’s space.
“I know you don’t believe me. But what I said to you that night was true. You’re the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.”
“Well, you don’t make any sense to me,” Jaskier retorted, though this close he wasn’t able to put any bite into his words.
“I think you like that about me,” Radovid whispered, and before Jaskier could conjure any words in response, Radovid closed the distance between them and kissed him. That spark. That damned spark. His traitorous heart fluttered. His taste on his lips. His scent, his warmth radiating off him. Radovid was here, right in front of him. Wanting only him.
“Be with me,” Radovid whispered when they parted, “just for tonight. Pretend there’s nothing between us.” He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled Jaskier flush against him. “Let there be nothing between us.”
Jaskier reached up to hold his face and kissed him hard. Radovid moaned into his mouth. He could feel his hands move to undo the buttons of his waistcoat. Untuck his shirt from his trousers. His hands on his skin. Reaching, pulling at every heartstring. At where Jaskier was most vulnerable.
“I’m not sure I like what you’ve become,” he said between kisses, “or is this how you’ve always been. Cold. Calculated.”
“If I’m cold, you should warm me up.”
“You hold my life in your hands and this is what you want?”
Jaskier pushed him. Radovid stumbled against the table. In a second, the bard was on him. Pulling him up onto it and wrapping Radovid’s legs around him.
“The pouting child-king always gets what he wants?”
“Go on,” Radovid goaded him as Jaskier began practically tearing at his clothes, “tell me how awful I am. It only seems to hurt when it comes from you.”
Jaskier grabbed his jaw and held it firm, his fingers digging into the soft skin of Radovid’s cheeks.
“How could I ever hurt you more than you hurt me? You tried to take Ciri. You didn’t come back. And now you make me your whore. What’s the goal here, Radovid? What do you want from me?”
Radovid’s hand covered his own. It was so gentle, so soft, that Jaskier found his grip on him relaxing.
“For you to choose me.”
Jaskier detangled himself from him and stepped back.
“Not this again.”
“But look.” Radovid held his arms out as though making a point. “I’m naked and vulnerable. You could kill me if you want. My sword is right over there I know you saw it. You could kill me and make your escape. But you didn’t. That’s how I know you would choose me.”
Jaskier had grown tired of talking. Radovid always had a retort. Always had a way to trip him up with his own words. He was the only one who could ever do that.
“Get on your hands and knees. Now.”
Like an excitable boy who’d just been told he could have extra dessert, Radovid did as he was told. Spread out for Jaskier on the floor, he hardly looked like a king. And yet, he was still the one in control. Jaskier could shout and berate him all he wanted, but only for as long as Radovid would allow. Perhaps that was his power all along. To move undetected, to weave his web through everything until you were caught. You’d hardly know you were walking right into his trap. Jaskier got down on his knees behind him. Any other time and he would adore this. Radovid was tall and slender. His long curls fell off his shoulders. He was beautiful. But all Jaskier could feel was the twisting in his stomach. And the betrayal of arousal. He spread him open. Took a moment to believe Radovid was truly vulnerable. He gave him a small, gentle kiss at the base of his spine. A single offering of love and affection. And then he pounced.
Radovid keened under him. Jaskier worked him open with his tongue. All at once, everything he had held in for so long came flooding out. He wanted to devour him. He wanted to hurt him, to give him pleasure. To make him feel every complicated and contradictory emotion he made Jaskier feel. He slipped his tongue inside him. Radovid pushed back against him, silently begging for more. He could feel himself wanting him, wanting to take things further. He worked his tongue deeper, moaned against his skin. It wasn’t enough. Radovid dropped his head down into the crook of his elbow and rocked his hips. It seemed he was feeling the same. Pulling back, Jaskier stuck his fingers in his mouth before pushing one inside him. He thrust it in and out idly for a moment, before adding another. Radovid let out a breath as he was stretched out. He held still. This wasn’t going to be enough for what Jaskier wanted to do to him. For what either of them wanted.
“We need something more,” Jaskier muttered in frustration. He rose to his feet and crashed around the tent, uncaring of such gaudy possessions amongst refugees. Of who owned them. He found something that looked suitable, inspected it. Scented oil. Radovid was vain to no end. He wasted no time getting back into position behind him. He coated his fingers and sank two back inside him. The glide was easier now. The sounds Radovid was making sweeter. Jaskier wasn’t going to take his time with this. Wasn’t going to wait, or treat Radovid with the care and attention he may have once gave him. Radovid wanted him to fuck him. That’s what he would do. Drawing himself up on his knees, he coated himself in oil. He was almost ashamed of how hard he was. How much he ached to be inside him. Well, that would be rectified in a moment.
He pushed inside him slowly, carefully, until his hips were flushed against him. Radovid was tight. His body had stiffened under him before relaxing again. He didn’t say anything. Didn’t complain, didn’t beg for more. He was getting exactly what he wanted. No doubt he was smug about it.
Jaskier didn’t give it to him slowly. Didn’t savour the moment. With every thrust he gave himself away to him. Might as well make it count. He snapped his hips hard and Radovid cried out.
“That’s it. Give me something to remember you by. I want to feel it.”
Jaskier could only comply. He gripped him firmly by the hips. There was no romance, no sweet nothings whispered into the night. Jaskier was angry. He was frustrated. He was wanting. Despite it all, he wanted him. He had missed him so much. And it felt good to be with him again. To be entangled in each other. To almost forget, just for a moment, why he was here. What it was all for.
“Flip me over,” Radovid begged, “I want to see you.”
Jaskier pulled out just long enough for him to move onto his back. He didn’t want to give him even a moments respite. Radovid moaned as he slipped easily back inside him. There was a sheen of sweat over Radovid’s body. He lay there, spread out on the floor for him. Wanting him. It was easier when he couldn’t look at him. He focused instead on the thrust of his hips. Making it rougher, faster. Harder. Maybe if he fucked him hard enough, that twisting in his stomach would go away. Radovid took himself in hand, matching the pace.
“Don’t hold back. I want them all to hear. Hear how you chose me.”
Radovid moaned obscenely. A performance, Jaskier was sure. Still, it spurred him on. He watched himself disappear inside him over and over. Glanced back up to find Radovid looking at him with such devotion. That may have been real.
“I love you,” Radovid panted, “I love you I love you I lo-”
He broke off with a gasp as he came. The mighty king of Redania, making a mess of himself just for him. It was beautiful. Jaskier couldn’t hold himself back. Radovid wanted a lasting reminder, Jaskier would give it to him. He chased his pleasure with wild abandon, and buried himself deep when he finally reached his peak. He panted above him, lungs desperate for air. They looked at one another, no words passing between them as they wondered what on earth they had just done.
Jaskier’s head rested on Radovid’s chest. He listened to his rapid beating heart. Radovid was human underneath after all.
“I should go back to Geralt.”
He moved to get up but Radovid’s arms engulfed him. He was not strong enough to resist.
“Just a little longer,” Radovid murmured, “Just a moment longer.”
His fingers threaded through Jaskier’s hair. He pet him like a lover. Not at all like a man condemned.
“You will uphold your end of the bargain, won’t you?”
“I will talk to the Cintrans first thing tomorrow.”
Jaskier closed his eyes and buried himself into Radovid’s scent.
“Thank you.”
He couldn’t take this. Fucking was easy. He’d fucked his way around the continent. But this. This was too close. It cut too deep. He wanted to stay. And that was why he should leave.
Radovid redid his shackles. Geralt hadn’t said a word as they entered the tent. All the rage Jaskier had felt earlier had vanished, and he sat obediently as he was once again held in place. It felt wrong. Like none of this should have happened. Maybe he should have killed him and escaped. But he hadn’t. Radovid had been right all along.
“You’ll speak to them,” Jaskier stammered out.
“On my honour as a king,” Radovid replied, stepping away and standing over him, “you won’t die tomorrow.”
All Jaskier could do was give a shaky nod. Radovid hovered for a brief moment, and then left without another word. Jaskier felt a wave of emotion as soon as he was gone. He tried his best to ignore the threatening sting of tears, but he was so worn out. So tired. Radovid had taken everything out of him, carved a hole in his chest to make himself a home, and then vanished into the night.
“Why did you tell me to go with him?” he addressed Geralt.
“Because I knew you wanted to,” the witcher replied, “you shouldn’t have to deny yourself anything for me. Especially not for a journey you shouldn’t even be on in the first place.”
Jaskier found himself laugh through his tears.
“You are an altruistic bastard, you know that?” His humour vanished as quickly as it came. “Do you have any idea what I did? What we did?”
“I heard.”
Oh of course, witcher senses. As if things couldn’t get bad enough.
“I let him use me. And the worst part is I’m not even angry with him. I can’t believe I- Gods, what must you think of me. I’m so-” He couldn’t even get the words out. He could barely even bring himself to look at Geralt right now. Good old Jaskier, always being led by his cock. He didn’t even want to know what Geralt was thinking. Didn’t want to see it in his eyes.
“You may have saved our lives,” Geralt said, voice steady, “don’t be ashamed.”
That only made things worse. His tears ran hot down his face.
“He told me he loved me.”
Through the blanket of his pain, he heard Geralt sigh.
“To love someone you can’t reach,” he said, “I understand.”
He was thinking of Yennefer. Of how they parted, every time not knowing when they would be reunited. Not knowing if they would survive long enough to even have the chance. Was that to be Jaskier’s fate too? He didn’t have long to ponder on it. The tent flap was pulled back again. This time, It was Vissegerd.
***
All hell broke loose. Radovid watched a man die by his sword. The first life he had ever consciously taken. But he didn’t have time to think much of it now. He could have a break down when all of their lives weren’t in danger. Jaskier had been right all along. If he didn’t take charge now, he would get himself and everyone around him killed. He could do this. He had his army by his side. His general looked at him with pride. And then he was gone.
He had to keep his head. He had to do this. He needed to prove Jaskier wrong. But where was Jaskier? He had left them chained up in the tent. They were sitting ducks. Weaving between the fray, Radovid went to find them. The tent was empty. That was good. That was a good sign. They made it out somehow. But that also meant they were somewhere in the fray. He whirled around and spotted them. Jaskier went down. Radovid stopped breathing. Geralt picked him up. Jaskier was walking. Just about. He wasn’t dead. He watched as the pair of them limped off into the distance. He knew Geralt would keep him safe. He had done all these years. As the figure of Jaskier disappeared into the distance – stumbling, injured, alive - Radovid was sure that it wasn’t the last he would see of him.