Kill Your Darlings (Jaskier x Assassin!Reader)

Chapter 4

You heard the lute first. The soft melody from the strings reminded you of your mother — her voice would echo around your small house, waking you from your deepest slumbers as she made whatever was lying around for breakfast. She never admitted that she was talented, that her voice was just as beautiful as any bards, not even when you told her so. She would only smile and continue singing, pretending not to hear your compliments.

But the remnants of your memory were blown away when another chord was struck — the wrong chord, you guessed, since the whispering of a curse followed after. Your vision of her faded slowly, her smile turning into a far off memory, an image that you tried to grasped as you reached a somewhat full awareness of your surroundings.

As you got your bearings, you were reminded of your situation. You decided to move slowly, just in case something was terribly wrong. Keeping your eyes closed, you twitched your fingers, testing that you were, in fact, alive. Your fingertips felt what was beneath you. It was...what felt like a blanket. And now that you came more to your senses, your back wasn't on the cold floor — it was in a bed.

The fear panged within you with a thousand bolts. Ignoring your initial instinct to stay quiet, you jolted up and shot your eyes open, immediately reaching for the knife you typically kept under your sleeve.

"It's not there."

The voice startled you — you flicked your eyes across the room. The witcher was watching you from a spot where he leaned against the wall. As you tried to push yourself off the bed, you noticed, once again, your wrist was bound. But this time, it was only one wrist attached to the nearest bedpost, with the most intricate knot you had ever seen — even if you tried to undo do it with your one free hand, the witcher would stop you immediately. Unable to move, you stayed upright in the bed like a helpless bunny rabbit about to be targeted by a hunter.

You stared the witcher down from your position, trying to seem more in control of the situation. "You didn't kill me."

"No." The witcher jutted his head to the side. "Because you didn't kill him." You snapped your head to your right — there, the bard was sitting in a chair a good distance away from you. He was holding a lute in his lap, but had stopped playing it. Once he saw you look at him, he flinched.

You smirked at your effect on him but turned back to the witcher. "Why am I tied to a bed?"

To your surprise, the bard answered. "Because we put you there." You turned back to him with your eyebrows raised, then settled on a glare. It took him a second to get understand the underlying presumption of his sarcastic comment. "No no no, we didn't do anything like that—"

"You fainted." Again, your head swiveled to the other side of the room. You blinked back at the witcher; he was telling the truth, from what you knew. The last thing you remember was letting the bard go, getting ready to fight, and then darkness.

You reached a hand to the back of your head, where the witcher had knocked you out before. You touched around your hair, expecting to feel some sort of leftover blood. There was none.

"We patched you up. Your shoulder too." The witcher shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry about that."

You dropped your hand with a sigh. You supposed it was kind of them to tend to your wounds — still, the idea of these two strangers looming over your unconscious body made you shiver.

You subconsciously reached a hand to your shoulder — it was covered, but you still felt exposed without your cloak on. You rolled your shoulder back, clenching your teeth at the pain ached in your bones.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and dropped your hand. "Why haven't you handed me to the guards?"

"Bringing an unconscious person to the guards doesn't do any of us much good." He stayed silent for a moment, then gave in to your continuous frown. "And we thought you should be given a chance to explain yourself."