The Witcher One Shots

Inkpot Gods (Radskier) (Angst)

A/N: I was listening to Ruin by the Amazing Devil when I wrote this, as you could probably tell by the title, and I decided to write something about my current fave ship in the Witcher fandom, so here's this. Also, imagine Inkpot Gods, but sadder, yk? Also, Madeleine Hyland as Priscilla, I rest my case. Anyway! Enjoy!

It had been weeks since the shed, since Radovid had last seen Jaskier, and since he'd become king. Radovid thirsted for Jaskier once again. Radovid ached to feel Jaskier's skin under his fingers. And he knew it would likely stay that way. Radovid had betrayed Jaskier's trust, and for that he couldn't feel more regret. He could only lie in bed and think of how different he wanted that to go, he could only think of how Jaskier had put a dagger through his heart, but that didn't stop the urge to find him. He liked Jaskier. He really did, and he could only think of how he wanted that morning to go so differently. The candles that light Radovid's room flicker the orange light, just barely being able to see the dark outlines of the furnishings in his room. He had been prepared to leave the luxuries of Redania behind for the bard. The Sandpiper. The one who got away. Radovid couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. So much had happened in so little time. His heart broken, his brother dead. The red stained crown's weight still on his head and the echoes of Phillipa's chant still rang in his ears. The tears streaming down his face as he gazed at the bloodied corpse of his brother sprawled out in front of him.

Long live King Radovid.

It still haunts him. He couldn't sleep. Radovid shuffled the blankets off his sweating body, as his chemise was damp at the chest. Radovid hopped out of his bed, wiping the sweat off his forehead and moving his hair out of his eyes. He walked through the castle. The silence echoes so loud, so haunting. He stopped in the room. The room where his brother's body had been found. He looked upon the kingdom. Only a few lights could be seen from here. Those few lights went out. The dark sleeping kingdom he was to rule. The kingdom he didn't want to rule. The kingdom that tore him away from what he really desired.

~~~

Jaskier had helped Geralt in Brokilon, the pain of Radovid still ached in his heart. The fact that he'd tried to help. The fact he had showed in Oxenfurt to no avail, he waited. But Radovid never showed, only solidifying what Jaskier had thought about him. That he was just a mask, that he was only using Jaskier to get to Ciri and Geralt. It hurt. It hurt once again. The pain of Jaskier's love never stopped.

Dammit Jaskier. Geralt's angered voice echoed through Jaskiers mind.

I'd be out from under Djikstra's thumb. Radovid's voice played.

Jaskier could only feel the anger and sorrow of Radovid showing his true colors. But even then, Jaskier still cared about him. It's in his nature to help those who've hurt him, even if it was beyond healing. And yet Jaskier saw differences between Geralt and Radovid. Geralt pinned the blame on him. Radovid took the blame upon himself.

How can you think my feelings for you were a lie.

Because that is who you are, Radovid, at your core. I thought I'd seen through your mask. Turns out there was nothing behind it.

Oh, how Jaskier wanted to change how that moment went. But the heat of it caused Jaskier to act without thinking. He so desperately wanted to believe that Radovid was more than a mask, and perhaps Radovid was, but it was too late. The damage had been done.

"Jaskier." Geralt placed his hand on Jaskier's shoulder, "are you alright?"

Jaskier realized he'd been crying without knowing it.

"I'm fine, Geralt." Jaskier got up quickly, "I think I'm just tired. I'm going to go to bed." Jaskier moved from the table in the corner of the tavern inn, grabbed his lute which was sat by the stairs, and ran up them, only to break down before he could get to his room.

The pain was still there. Still stabbing at his heart. He got to his room quickly before anyone could see. As soon as he closed the door, he fell to his knees, clutching his lute close to his chest.

With you I am enough.

Radovid sang to him. Radovid sang his own song to him. Maybe Radovid was more than a mask.

He got up, wiping his tears, and sat on his bed. He plucked the strings of his lute, humming, only what he can muster. 

"I can hear him sing, if I don't make it back from where I've gone just know, I've loved you all along." That's what he came up with.

~~~

Two days later Radovid heard of a new song by Jaskier, and a new name, Priscilla. Inkpot Gods is what they had called it. The rumor was it was about a princely lover the bard had. Radovid knew exactly who it was about. And it hurt. He so hopelessly wanted to run away with the Sandpiper, but he couldn't. It was too late.

Before long the song was being played in every tavern, every inn, the song was being played everywhere. Radovid couldn't escape it. As if he wanted to.

One night he decided to stroll through the kingdom. He'd told Phillipa he just wanted to get an idea of how the city was being run, so he could adapt. That wasn't the truth. He'd gotten a letter from an unknown writer.

I want to see you again. That morning, I regret it dearly. I waited for you. You didn't show, which makes me think you were truly a mask, but I want to know for sure. Meet me where it all began at midnight if you truly aren't what I thought you were.

Radovid knew who it was, he knew who'd written it, and he knew that he would make there, no matter the cost. He didn't care if it was bad for him to do this. Nothing was going to stop him.

Jaskier didn't have high hopes of Radovid showing his face. He knew that this was dangerous, he knew that Radovid may not be able to get out of the palace if he even wanted to, but he needed to know. He needed Radovid to show his face.

Jaskier was sitting in an alley, wearing a black cloak, borrowed from Geralt. He needed to blend into the darkness. Jaskier awaited. Losing hope, he turned to walk away, before hearing sprinting footsteps.

"Jaskier?" The man whispered, "is it you?"

Jaskier's heart leapt from his chest. By the Gods, he came. He actually came.

Jaskier came out of the shadows and saw Radovid's face. The dimly lit street made nearly impossible to have seen Jaskier in his hiding spot.

"You're here." Jaskier smiled, pulling down his hood, "you came."

"You said to come to prove I really cared. I really care, Jaskier. I do." Radovid fiddled with his finger, suddenly feeling as though this may not have been the greatest of ideas.

Jaskier grabbed his face and kissed him, dragging him into the alley so no one could see. Radovid couldn't see anything, but he felt a smile spread across Jaskier's lips.

"I'm sorry." Radovid broke the kiss for a moment.

Jaskier rested his forehead against Radovid's, "As am I."

"I'm sorry I didn't show up in Oxenfurt. I tried. I really did."

Jaskier didn't care why he didn't show, all that he cared about right now was that he was here now, and Jaskier didn't want any space left between them.

"I'm sure you had a good reason." Jaskier kissed him once again.

For the first time in a while, Jaskier's heart wasn't hurting, and Radovid wasn't the king. And that's all they could either hope for.

And what you see is not the dark, it's just the God's upturning inkpots cause they know what you've become.

Jaskier hummed the tune of his song, his song about Radovid. Radovid felt the vibrations of his voice and hummed back. This is what it's like to be in love. Radovid thought, it has to be.