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Jaskier's outfit for this chapter was inspired by the lovely seijishun on Tumblr.
The third of Jaskier’s captors, an enormous red dragon named Aramaris, really made a pageant of things when his turn to kidnap the bard came around. He flew over the town they’d stopped in, shaking the trees as he flapped his enormous leathery wings, and perched on the roof of a dilapidated temple . He opened his enormous maw and spewed clouds of fire across the sky to get the attention of anyone out on the street or in the square. He roared thunderously and scratched new holes into the temple roof with his clawed talons.
Bring me the White Wolf’s bard, he demanded. Every living person in the village heard the dragon’s telepathic voice. Some screamed. Some dropped what they were holding and covered their ears. Some collapsed to their knees to pray, frightened of whatever demon had invaded their minds. Jaskier merely rolled his eyes from the corner of the tavern and sighed. This was certainly different but it wasn't unexpected. It had been nearly a month since Lythos had picked him up off the side of the road and flown off with him. He'd almost started to wonder if the giant reptiles had ended their bet entirely or grown bored. Apparently not.
The red dragon's voice echoed through the town again, this time sounding even more demanding. Bring the bard to me unharmed or there shall be great destruction wrought upon your dingy village .
“Well, this is certainly new," Jaskier huffed into his mostly-empty pint of ale. At least he'd gotten to finish that before his soon-to-be kidnapper arrived.
“Ain’t you the bard what came into town with the Witcher?” the innkeep asked, turning to look him over. Jaskier nodded, nonplussed by the racket growing ever louder in the square.
“We should take ‘im to the temple, then,” one of the patrons suggested. “Let the dragon see for ‘imself if this is the right bard.”
Jaskier allowed himself to be gently surrounded and ushered through the streets of the unusually lively marketplace. He was guided carefully through the town square and into the courtyard of the half-destroyed temple. He was shoved gently to his knees before the enormous dragon, whose snout was still smoking from his earlier display of power.
“Aramaris?” Jaskier asked.
Ah, so sweet young Lythos has told you our names.
“Yes.”
Jaskier took a moment to stand up and bow at the waist, adding every courtly flourish he knew to the gesture.
Are you prepared for your next adventure, little bard? Aramaris questioned. I have a great many ideas and I am excited to share them with you.
“Shouldn’t you be doing this when Geralt is actually around to see it?” the bard questioned. “It seems rather silly going through all of this if the White Wolf isn’t even here to defend me.”
You’re playing this up for the audience, aren’t you? To make their stories even more wild when Geralt returns for you?
Jaskier gave a surreptitious wink and nodded, knowing the dragon's silent voice was focused only on him. This had been a very private conversation so far but now he needed the townsfolk to serve their purpose as witnesses. Someone had to give the news to Geralt, better to have several persons around to see his bard-napping than only one.
“Aye, great and merciful creature. Take me and let the White Wolf alone! I will serve as tribute in return for the Witcher's safety. Swear to me that you won't hurt him if you take me instead.”
I accept your offer, little bard. You people, Aramaris slowly turned his snout down towards the audience and huffed out a thin puff of smoke. You shall tell the Witcher that Aramaris of the Ruby Scales has taken his bardling. If he wishes to get the lad back, he must travel to the ruins at Leyda.
“Y-yes, uh...sir?”
That will suffice.
Aramaris rose, settling Jaskier tightly within the confines of his talons, and sprang into the air with a forceful leap. Once they were far enough away, Aramaris began to pepper the bard with questions.
Do you think they’ll tell the Witcher what he needs to know?
“Oh absolutely. They were scared shitless.”
How long will it take your Witcher to complete this contract?
“He should be back in the village by tonight. Early morning at the latest.”
Perfect. Does he really call you his 'little lark' as a term of endearment?
"Yes, why?" Jaskier asked.
You'll see when we get to Leyda.
“Holy shit,” Jaskier muttered. He gave a little half-laugh that landed somewhere between shocked and impressed.
Do you like it? Aramaris asked. Jaskier could only nod in reply.
The dragon had brought him to the famed ruins at Leyda and sequestered him in a series of large chambers at the very back of the crumbling stone fortress. There was a bedroom, a bathing chamber with a magically-heated marble pool, and a small stone room filled to bursting with clothing and jewelry for Jaskier to play with.
That wasn't the most exciting or dramatic part, though. That wasn't what had the bard speechless and wide-eyed. Against the far wall, between two lovely stone archways that framed the warm Leydan sunset, sat an enormous golden bird cage. The floor of the huge metal contraption was piled over with pillows, all wrapped in gold silk covers. Jaskier sucked in a breath and whistled several quick, high notes when he breathed out. “This is...incredibly impressive.”
It’s all about the presentation, Aramaris intoned. The Witcher reacts most strongly to visual stimuli. Him seeing you in danger is what activates his protective instinct. By binding you and caging you, I will draw the strongest reaction from him yet.
“I should probably tell him what’s going on,” Jaskier sighed. “I feel bad manipulating him like this. He doesn’t deserve it. He already deals with so much on the Path.”
I shall compensate you and your Witcher more heavily than my compatriots have, since you have brought this to my attention. He shall have payment for his emotional distress as well as payment for his time. It shall all be decided when we are through with dressing you.
“I guess that helps,” Jaskier shrugged. Then the dragon’s earlier words sank in totally and he turned to face Aramaris again. “Wait. Did you say bound and caged?”
Yes. I have requested help from another one of our number to get the exact pose down. There is an illustration on the desk if you’d like to see my artistic vision for your...imprisonment.
Jaskier crossed the room to the desk and glanced down. There was an unrolled scroll pinned open, an illustration clearly pulled from some adult-themed storybook. It depicted a lovely and terrified princess with her arms tied rather artfully over her head. The rest of her was stretched out on a sad looking cot. I replaced the shoddy bed in the picture with the birdcage and the pillows, as you can see. The sorcerer from that story didn’t understand anything about the importance of visual presentation.
Jaskier laughed and nodded. “Not even a little. That’s truly a horrible little cell.”
Would you like a bath, little bard? Perhaps some food and Toussainti wine? After you eat we can peruse the closet, if you’d like. Aramaris followed up his suggestions with a hopeful puff of smoke and Jaskier giggled with amusement.
“You dragons try so hard to be enigmatic but you’re just as romantic as us mortals,” he teased. “I will cooperate fully with all of your plans; except for the dress in this picture. I'm sure you have something far better picked out already, don't you?"
Hmm, the dragon avoided making eye contact for a moment before giving in and nodding. I may have a few things in mind...
"Then let's get that bath sorted. I can't wait to play around in the closet together!"
Thank you, the dragon smiled (as much as an enormous lizard could smile). This will be most amusing.
Geralt burst through the door, breathing heavily, his silver sword drawn and at the ready.
Ah, Jaskier thought to Aramaris, He usually doesn’t bring the sword. That's new.
He’s brave, your Witcher.
Or stupid.
"Where's my-" Geralt’s eyes widened when they lit upon the bard's current predicament. Jaskier was...he was...
Jaskier had been laid out like a fucking feast at the bottom of a gods-damned gilded birdcage. They'd even tied his arms above his head, stretching out that long, lean body against the equally gilded pillows. Geralt couldn't help but let his eyes trace down the pale expanses of the bard’s lightly tanned arms. He marveled at the way the deep blue silk ropes seem to emphasize every muscle and vein in the bard's arms. His wrists had been crossed and secured against one of the cage bars, holding him still in a half-sitting yet reclined position. His stomach, bare except for the thin golden chains dangling from his silky cropped blouse, rose and fell quickly with his little panting breaths.
The Witcher’s nostrils flared but he couldn't seem to make himself move. He had to finish looking at Jaskier first.
The way his bard’s legs looked when wrapped in a pair of thin turquoise dancer’s pants, which had been slit from ankle to hip, was utterly bewitching. The only thing keeping Jaskier from being completely exposed to both Geralt and the dragon were a pair of brown leather shorts. Even those, however, had been loosely laced up the sides to reveal even more of Jaskier's temptingly soft skin. Geralt desperately wanted to fly to the bard's side and free him from his current predicament , but he had questions for the dragon first.
“What do you want from us?”
He is pretty, Aramaris projected to both of them. I wish to keep him here, where he can sing for me every day.
“He cannot be caged,” Geralt asserted, stepping forward. He brandished the silver blade and Jaskier felt his fragile mortal heart leap in his chest. “Free the bard or…”
Face your sword? Oh, little Witcher, you know you won’t survive if we two creatures come to blows.
“If I die to free Jaskier then it isn’t really death at all,” Geralt stated. He grit his teeth and raised the weapon again. “Let him go, dragon!”
Hmm. Little bard, what do you think of your Witcher’s efforts?
“Don’t do it, Geralt!” Jaskier cried. He wriggled a little and the jewelry hanging off his every limb jingled brightly. The light of the setting sun glanced off the gold chains atop his stomach and the Witcher’s eyes were drawn down to that swathe of pale, trembling skin yet again. Too bad he couldn't take a break from being a Witcher to merely ogle the delicious little troubadour. Jaskier tugged his torso forward as far as his bondage would allow and begged of Geralt; “Leave now and save yourself!"
“You know I can’t do that, Jaskier,” the Witcher snarled. “I won’t leave you here. I’ll die first.”
Prove your love and perhaps I’ll set you both free, Aramaris huffed, filling the room briefly with steam. Geralt blinked, owlish and confused,
“What?”
Free your darling from his prison as if I were not in the room at all. Prove your love to him, Witcher, and I might consider letting you both go free.
Geralt, overtaken by both shock and relief, dropped his sword and raced to the cage. He yanked the door open and fell to his knees against the cushions inside, crawling his way to Jaskier. The bard was practically hyperventilating with giddy excitement and tried to hide his glee behind a mildly frightened expression. The gold bands looped around his neck, arms, wrists, and ankles all jingled and chimed gently as he moved and shifted towards his rescuer.
When the Witcher reached his bard, he immediately looped his strong arms around the smaller man’s waist and pulled their hips and chests together. He slid one hand up to cup the side of Jaskier’s neck and jaw, molding their lips against each other for a heated and desperate kiss. A kiss that said I missed you. I was worried about you. I'm so glad you're back in my arms. All the things Geralt had such a tough time saying out loud were easily read through his physicality.
Jaskier sighed and went limp in his lover's arms, allowing Geralt to move and adjust his weight however he wanted. The Witcher tilted Jaskier’s head back, baring the line of his pale throat for all the world to see. He pressed a series of slow, wet kisses along the bard's neck and down to his collarbone, where he sucked a light purple bruise. Jaskier huffed out panting little breaths as he went, his hands still tugging against their bindings in an effort to caress his Witcher in return.
“Geralt,” the bard whined, “C’mon.”
Yes, Geralt, Aramaris adds, Give our precious bardling everything he wants.
The Witcher couldn't do anything but oblige, bending Jaskier even further back and fisting a hand into the hair at the back of his neck as he kissed him even more deeply. He let his tongue slip into Jaskier’s mouth and licked against the back of the bard's pearly teeth. His hands reached up and slowly undid the knots keeping Jaskier captive against the cold, golden metal of the birdcage. Those orange eyes stayed locked with Jaskier's blue when Geralt murmured, "What do you want, little bard?"
"You," Jaskier breathed, wrapping his arms around Geralt's neck as tightly as he could without hurting the Witcher. "I want you."
Then have him, Aramaris urged. Go quickly, before I decide I want you both in there to keep.
Geralt wrapped his little lark tightly in his arms, retrieved his sword, and raced away from the ruins as quickly as Roach could go. He had his arm wrapped tightly against the bard's middle, holding Jaskier tightly against Geralt's chest as they rode. "I'm never letting you out of my sight again, my lark."
"Hmm," Jaskier smiled, resting his head back against Geralt's gently bouncing shoulder. He felt the Witcher's warm hand against the skin of his bare stomach and grinned. "First you should take me back to camp, or the inn, and get me warm. This outfit doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?"
"No," Geralt agreed lowly. "It really doesn't."
"Do you dislike it?" Jaskier teased.
"No. I didn't say that at all."