Chapter Text
Boom!
Another blast of canon fire rocked the ship and Jaskier gripped tighter the bars they were held behind. The rough metal was almost beginning to hurt as it dug into their palms. If they had a heart still, it would be thundering in their chest as the excitement and dread of the situation pumped through their cold veins.
Across from them, Geralt’s pale face was pinched up in some indiscernible mix of negative emotions. His cat eyes were dilated, filled his yellow irises near completely, but stuck behind his own set of bars meant he couldn’t do much.
“It’s going to be okay,” Jaskier announced, “This will all blow over and we’ll be sailing back for the bay in no time. Then we’ll make our escape and get back our lost things, don’t you even worry about it, heart.”
Geralt rolled his eyes, apparently not tense enough to forgo that common gesture of his.
“You’re gonna get those pretty eyes of yours stuck like that one day,” Jaskier chided, “Then you’ll be forced to-”
Boom!
The ship jarred again, so hard Jaskier stumbled sideways and if not for their tight grip, may have fell on their ass.
“Oh dear,” they muttered as they straightened up, “Awful lot of those booms, isn’t there? I’m sure that’s fine. Emperor’s Navy just having to sweat a little, eh?”
They chuckled nervously, trying to brush it off, but Geralt shook his head slowly.
“What do you mean, no??” Jaskier demanded, “What can you hear??”
Geralt’s eyes went to the door of the brig and so did Jaskier’s, anxiously waiting for whatever might come through. There was a brief pause where they strained to hear the distant yelling, but couldn’t make anything out. Then the door swung open, slamming against the bulkhead as Susoji the petite jailer and Openea the large captain of the vessel came storming in, boots thumping loud against the rough deck.
“Ah, greetings, fair Captain,” Jaskier greeted as cheerfully as they could manage as the two crossed the room, “How fare you this day? It does sound rather loud up there. Is all-?”
“Shut up, mouth,” Captain Openea growled.
She and Susoji stopped in front of Geralt’s cell and keys jangled as Susoji pulled them from her belt.
“Is this an all hands situation?” Jaskier guessed as she opened Geralt’s cell.
“I said shut up,” Openea grumbled, “Come on, witcher. You fight for us, I’ll let you go at port.”
Geralt stepped out of the cell and pointed at Jaskier’s.
“The dandy is useless in a fight,” Openea scoffed.
“Hey!” Jaskier huffed.
True, but rude! Geralt pointed more insistently. Openea glared at him, tried to stare him down, but Geralt crossed his arms and glared back. Jaskier had never seen him lose a stare down before, so they were confident in him.
“You want them in harm’s way, fine,” Openea conceded, turning to Susoji, “Let them out. Hurry now, we don’t have much time before we’re boarded.”
Susoji hurried to Jaskier’s cell and freed them. Jaskier immediately went to Geralt’s side, gripping his shirt anxiously as the group of them headed out of the brig. Their things were just outside and Openea picked up Geralt’s swords, shoving them at his chest. He looked so grateful to have them back, he barely scowled at her.
“Come on,” she ordered gruffly, turning ahead to the hatch.
Geralt strapped his swords over his back, touching the handle of the silver one with a relieved sigh and then gave Jaskier the terse “stay behind me” look.
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Jaskier agreed.
They made their way up to the top deck where a pretty dense crowd was running around preparing to be boarded. Jaskier considered trying to grab one of the muskets being passed around just to have something, but they really were lousy in a fight. Their best bet was just to stay behind Geralt and try to be as small as possible.
They held the back of his shirt as he waded through the crowd, presumably looking for a good place to make a stand. Anyone they bumped had a sneering look or comment for them, but Jaskier was too nervous to worry about it. They could see the dark ship that was attacking. It was easy to identify by the pirate flag rippling in the wind. A wolf’s head in silhouette howled at an hourglass on a red background. Red meant no mercy, the hourglass meant time was running out, and the wolf’s head meant they were facing the much feared Captain Eskel Wolf of the Fiery Shadow.
Jaskier shifted uneasily. They’d heard stories about this man. He was as ruthless as he was cunning. Could lead a dozen hands to victory against five times that. His ship was fast, his crew deadly, and he was a devil with a sword himself. No one had ever beaten him. Which meant one very simple thing:
They were on the losing side.
Jaskier’s fist tightened in Geralt’s shirt as their breathing quickened. After all they’d been through, this was it. This was where they would die. Hacked to pieces by a madman with a “grisly smile”. Unless maybe they didn’t participate and surrendered. Wolf had been known to spare those that surrendered. After all, who would’ve told his story if he killed everyone?
“Geralt, come with me!” Jaskier hissed.
They tugged Geralt toward Openea.
“We have to surrender!” They blurted as soon as they reached her, “No one bests Captain Wolf!”
“No one so far,” Openea countered.
“You would count on being the first?” Jaskier scoffed, “You would bet your entire crew’s lives on being the first??”
Openea gripped their face suddenly, quite hard and Geralt tensed, shifting forward.
“Grow a fucking spine instead of just a mouth, coward,” she sneered in Jaskier’s pinched face, “Bravery is remembered in golden light, while cowardice blackens thy name.”
She pushed their face away a bit roughly and Jaskier scowled at her.
“I would rather have my name blackened on the record of the living than gilded on my gravestone,” they responded coolly.
“Then go back to your cell!” Openea snapped, “I don’t have time for this!”
Jaskier made a frustrated noise and turned away, dragging Geralt along. They did not go back to their cell, instead going to the galley to hunker down. They were a little surprised Geralt was coming along with them so easily, but either it was because he also recognized the sail or he trusted their word enough.
“We’ll just wait here,” Jaskier muttered nervously, “When the fighting’s over, they’ll come searching for loot and we can surrender. I’m sure it will all go just fine. Nothing to worry about, heart.”
The raucous sound of many guns going off sounded above them and Jaskier shifted closer to Geralt who put an arm around their waist. They wished having no heart meant they had no fear, but apparently the heart didn’t control that or at least the curse’s metaphorical purpose for it didn’t. Lucky them.
The fighting did not seem to last very long before tapering off. Which was rather concerning, but at least they didn’t have to sit there waiting for very long before the door was pushed open. Three rough, very pirate looking individuals flooded in and Jaskier and Geralt put up their hands.
“Cooks?” One, a blonde, suggested.
“Nah, that one’s got swords,” one with an eyepatch pointed out.
“Cowards,” the last, a rather tall one, offered tiredly, uncaringly.
Geralt twitched a little, lips pursing, but of course, he could say nothing in his defense.
“I’d like to think we’re just intelligent actually,” Jaskier spoke up as the pirates came nearer, “We know well the reputation of your crew and respect you and your captain. We simply would like to not die.”
“This one’s got a pretty mouth,” Eyepatch snorted, crouching by Jaskier and gripping their chin.
“This one’s not bad either,” Blondie commented, crouching by Geralt, “Look at this hair.”
They tried to touch Geralt’s hair, but he jerked his head aside, snapping his teeth at them.
“Feisty,” Blondie laughed.
“Don’t play,” the tall one ordered, “Just get them up so we can take them to the Captain.”
“You are never any fun, bird,” Eyepatch grumbled.
But they and Blondie gripped Jaskier and Geralt by the upper arms to haul them to their feet. Geralt’s swords were taken by the tall one who looked over them curiously while Geralt scowled, jaw tight. He looked ready to fight to grab them back, just as he had when Openea took them, but he again knew when he was outnumbered.
“You’re a witcher,” the pirate commented, then looking actually fully at him, “A full mutant witcher.”
Geralt’s eyes narrowed at them and his chin lifted, challenging them to do something about it.
“Captain will be very interested in that,” they muttered as they turned.
Jaskier and Geralt glanced at each other in confusion as they were pushed forward. Then Geralt gave Jaskier the “what have you gotten me into??” glare and Jaskier grinned sheepishly. At least they were alive, right? For the time being.
They were prodded back up to the top deck which was now red. Jaskier swallowed down bile and tried not to look as they were pushed past the viscera that used to be the crew. They were brought to a line of about a dozen still living ones, all kneeling with their hands bound behind them. They were likewise bound and forced to their knees at the end of the line.
The tall one holding Geralt’s swords approached a large individual in a long red coat with a dark hair tail whose back was to them and whispered in their ear, showing them the swords. The individual turned and Jaskier almost flinched.
With the horrific scars slashed across one side of his face, it could be no one else but Captain Wolf. Who now had his eyes on Geralt as he moved toward them. Jaskier wondered if they’d made a mistake now, but how were they supposed to know this captain had any interest in witchers? Though maybe they should’ve guessed a pirate might want a reward for turning a non-human into a witch hunter. Fuck.
Wolf stopped in front of them, staring down at Geralt with intent amber eyes. Geralt glared back at him, clearly having no intention of losing a stare down for the first time.
“You’re a full mutant witcher,” Wolf commented, voice deep and rough.
Geralt sneered at him.
“Rare to find one of you,” Wolf continued, “So few of you to begin with and I thought the witch hunters had got all the full ones who couldn’t hide their nature. How’d you get away?”
Geralt just bared his fangs at the man who abruptly drew his sword and pressed the tip to Geralt’s cheek.
“I asked you a question, boy,” Wolf said lowly.
“Geralt can’t speak,” Jaskier quickly piped up, “He’s got no tongue, so it’s impossible for him to answer you. Admittedly, even if he could, he probably wouldn’t, he’s a real surly-”
Wolf’s sword moved sharply and pressed to Jaskier’s cheek now and Geralt tensed as Wolf narrowed his eyes at Jaskier.
“And who the fuck are you?” He wondered.
“Ah, Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service,” Jaskier quickly babbled, “Jaskier, if it pleases you and they, even if it doesn’t. Poet, musician, and I like to think, my lovely witcher’s mouth. I speak for him for the most part, although I think sometimes he’d rather I not.”
“And do you ever shut up?” Wolf asked dryly.
“No, not really,” Jaskier admitted, “I even talk in my sleep sometimes.”
Wolf snorted.
“Tell me why he hasn’t gotten caught by witch hunters,” he ordered.
Jaskier glanced at Geralt who glanced up at Wolf before nodding sharply.
“Well, funny that,” Jaskier began, “He had a sort of royal protection that gave him the freedom to roam certain hostile countries given to him by Queen Calanthe herself. You can probably see why that is no longer helpful. Since she’s dead and the Emperor has taken Cintra. In addition to this, the Emperor appears to want his alive capture. For gods know what reason.”
Actually, they knew the reason. It was because the true heir to the Cintran throne was missing and also happened to be Geralt’s child surprise. Since the Emperor was struggling to hold Cintra with his military, it was no wonder he wanted the heir to take the throne through marriage. Luckily, she was hidden away safely while Geralt ran around trying to get their stolen things back. But Wolf didn’t need to know any of that.
“What did he do to get permission to live?” Wolf snorted.
“It’s a bit of a long story,” Jaskier said, “But basically, he helped Queen Calanthe’s family out in a time of great need.”
Wolf hummed as he pulled back, taking his sword off Jaskier’s face.
“And what are you two now?” He wondered, “Other than fugitives.”
“Well, I am great entertainment,” Jaskier offered, “And Geralt is a great swordsman. Quickly learning how to be sailors too.”
“Oh?” Wolf prompted, lifting an eyebrow.
“Useful,” Jaskier clarified, “We’re useful.”
Wolf’s eyes trailed down to Jaskier’s open shirt, where some of their chest was bare, lips pressing together as he seemed to consider this sight.
“Perhaps I could show you how useful I am, my captain?” Jaskier suggested, lowering their eyelashes and leaning forward slightly.
“Yeah, perhaps you could,” Wolf agreed.
He turned toward the tall one.
“Coën, take them both to my cabin,” he ordered.
“Yes, Captain,” Coën grunted, bowing their head.
They went around Jaskier and Geralt and took them by their upper arms to guide them away.
“And what makes you useful?” Wolf asked the next person in line as Jaskier and Geralt were led past.
“Die, pirate scum,” the sailor spat.
“See, that’s not the right answer, friend,” Wolf said.
Jaskier winced at the sound of a sword going through flesh and the thump of a body hitting the deck.
“Now, what makes you useful?” Wolf asked.
Jaskier felt a cold chill in their spine.