This is written by @combeferre_writer01 on ao3
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It was Yennefer who told Jaskier about the curse. No-one else knew how to find the poor bard. He'd been under everyone's radar ever since Geralt had yelled at him on that mountain.
Yennefer was one of the first people to hear about the curse. A witch--whose name no longer belonged to a living person-- was bragging to her about this Witcher she had finally taken down. The people of a small village were whispering of a horrifying mutant. The witch knew she wouldn't have stood a chance against the Witcher in a fight. The Witcher, however, didn't stand a chance against her magic.
"I'll go to him," Jaskier nodded slowly. "I don't know why you're insisting, though." The once bard was skinning a rabbit. "Am I feeding you or what are you doing?"
Yennefer looked shocked at the man. The last time she saw him he was trying not to cry as he slowly made his way back down the mountain after Geralt had unfairly torn him a new one. Now he was plainly dressed and had a bow and a quiver of arrows.
"I'll stay." She seated herself on a log near Jaskier. "What have you been doing?"
"Getting by."
"You're starting to sound like him." Yennefer chuckled humorlessly. Jaskier didn't reply. "What's going on, Bard? Where's your instrument?"
"I traded it for the bow and quiver," Jaskier dismissed. "I didn't need it anymore but the bow comes in handy when you get hungry."
"When will you leave?" Yennefer wanted to change the topic. Why wasn't he talking nonstop? Why wasn't he wearing colours that allowed her to see him from yards away?
"At daybreak. There's no point in travelling now; I'll lose my way and that's nothing I'm in the mood to do right now."
"Do you need me to-"
"No."
"Jaskier, what's happened?" She asked gently.
Jaskier finally looked up from his bloody hands. "The same thing that happened to you. He left." He scoffed and looked down at his hands again. "He was always so scared of us leaving him but pushed us away. I gave up on trying to pick myself up. I'm not as strong as you are, Yen."
Jaskier tucked himself between two wide trees. He could perfectly see the bandits but knew they couldn't see him. The once bard took a stance, knocking an arrow, and took aim.
The first shot, a warning to the other two, went straight through the neck of the beefiest man and he dropped like a rock into the sea. Rather than running, the men opted for looking around and drawing their own weapons. Jaskier shook his head at their stupidity.
Not wanting to take more time with the fools, he knocked a second arrow and launched it into the hornets' nest hanging from the branch above their heads. The hornets chased them off so he could slip through.
The once bard didn't hum as he walked. He didn't even seem to miss the lute he once brought with him everywhere he went. The man was hardly a shell of who he used to be. This fact made Yennefer worry as they parted ways that morning.
However, Jaskier did a lot of thinking as he walked. The changes in him didn't go unnoticed by himself. He was aware of all the changes he was going through and he didn't know how to feel about it. Was he finally growing up or had something in him died? Strangely enough, Jaskier felt there wasn't that much of a difference.
He stopped skipping from town to town sleeping with anyone who asked him. He no longer panicked if he didn't get enough money to eat after playing his heart out in some pub that wreaked of sweat, ale, what was probably piss, and the gods didn't want to know what else.
