Battle Wounds (The Witcher Fanfic)
Feb. 17th, 2022 02:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
asphaltcowgrrlTitle: Battle Wounds
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Gen-ish
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 553
Summary: Geralt’s wound isn’t healing and Yennefer doesn’t know what else to do.
Author’s note: Written for the weekend challenge at 1_million_words. My prompt was a rather gross one: Maggots are still used to clean wounds! In fact, as recently as 2004, the US Food and Drug Administration permitted the production and marketing of maggots for limited use as a 'medical device'! Please don’t ask why I went here with this. LOL Also, I’m nowhere near having Jaskier’s quick wit down yet, so forgive me.
Yennefer leaned over Geralt’s naked shoulder and pursed her lips. “This wound isn’t healing, Geralt,” she scolded. “Are you drinking your potions?”
Geralt grunted.
“What about washing it like I told you?” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.
“Yes,” he groaned. “And putting that horrible smelling poultice on it as well.”
“Then I do not know what else to do for you,” she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I’ve tried everything from herbs to actual magic, but nothing is working.”
“But have you tried maggots,” Jaskier offered. He was perched on a stool in the corner where he could watch both Yennefer and Geralt as they moved around the small room.
“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, gruff and grouchy.
“Don’t listen to the bard,” Yen said, distracting the Witcher by dabbing something cold and stringent on his wound. “Maggots are not used on wounds any longer.”
“Not true,” Jaskier sang, picking out a quick tune on his lute. “Two doctors bought me a drink last month after a performance.” He looked at his hand, inspecting it, frowning at a small cut marring his skin. “They nearly drove me out of the bar due to their discussion regarding the use of maggots post-accident to keep the wounds fresh and clean.”
“Fresh and –” Geralt shook his head, looking a trifle paler than usual. “Don’t you have a barmaid to woo or something?”
Jaskier grinned. “Not tonight,” he said, plucking at the strings of his lute again, a melody finding its way to the strings. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”
“Lucky us,” Yennefer grumbled.
Geralt chuckled.
“I’d be careful you two,” Jaskier said, standing up and straightening his coat. “I may not have magic or big, bulgy muscles, but I have my music. And you’ll all go down as meanies if I have my way.” He stomped over to the door, stopped, gave them a withering look. “I’ll be at the bar.”
“Bring me a pint,” Geralt called.
“I’m not coming back.”
Geralt just smiled.
“I really hate you, you know that, right?” The bard shook his head. “I don’t know why I even bother, truly. I get nothing but sass from these two.” Grumbling, he let himself out of the room and headed down the stairs.
“How do you know he’ll be back,” Yennefer asked, still bathing the infected wound.
“Because he always is,” Geralt said. “Besides, he’ll ask everyone in the common room about treating wounds and he’ll no doubt find someone with some crazy idea that sends him pounding back up the stairs.”
“Without your ale.”
“Without my ale,” Geralt confirmed.
Yennefer was wrapping the last of the muslin around Geralt’s wound when the door flew open. Two sets of eyes whipped to discern the disturbance, finding only a grinning bard in the doorway.
“Guess what I learned?”
Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other and groaned.
“If it has anything to do with maggots,” Geralt began, before being interrupted by the bard.
“No, no, of course not,’ Jaskier said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “This is even better.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Yennefer deadpanned.
“Oh, you won’t regret sticking around for this,” he said, launching into a tale that neither of them could fully believe was true.
Jaskier was, after all, a bard.
Fandom: The Witcher
Pairing: Gen-ish
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 553
Summary: Geralt’s wound isn’t healing and Yennefer doesn’t know what else to do.
Author’s note: Written for the weekend challenge at 1_million_words. My prompt was a rather gross one: Maggots are still used to clean wounds! In fact, as recently as 2004, the US Food and Drug Administration permitted the production and marketing of maggots for limited use as a 'medical device'! Please don’t ask why I went here with this. LOL Also, I’m nowhere near having Jaskier’s quick wit down yet, so forgive me.
Yennefer leaned over Geralt’s naked shoulder and pursed her lips. “This wound isn’t healing, Geralt,” she scolded. “Are you drinking your potions?”
Geralt grunted.
“What about washing it like I told you?” She crossed her arms over her chest, waiting.
“Yes,” he groaned. “And putting that horrible smelling poultice on it as well.”
“Then I do not know what else to do for you,” she said, throwing her hands up in defeat. “I’ve tried everything from herbs to actual magic, but nothing is working.”
“But have you tried maggots,” Jaskier offered. He was perched on a stool in the corner where he could watch both Yennefer and Geralt as they moved around the small room.
“Jaskier,” Geralt warned, gruff and grouchy.
“Don’t listen to the bard,” Yen said, distracting the Witcher by dabbing something cold and stringent on his wound. “Maggots are not used on wounds any longer.”
“Not true,” Jaskier sang, picking out a quick tune on his lute. “Two doctors bought me a drink last month after a performance.” He looked at his hand, inspecting it, frowning at a small cut marring his skin. “They nearly drove me out of the bar due to their discussion regarding the use of maggots post-accident to keep the wounds fresh and clean.”
“Fresh and –” Geralt shook his head, looking a trifle paler than usual. “Don’t you have a barmaid to woo or something?”
Jaskier grinned. “Not tonight,” he said, plucking at the strings of his lute again, a melody finding its way to the strings. “Tonight, I’m all yours.”
“Lucky us,” Yennefer grumbled.
Geralt chuckled.
“I’d be careful you two,” Jaskier said, standing up and straightening his coat. “I may not have magic or big, bulgy muscles, but I have my music. And you’ll all go down as meanies if I have my way.” He stomped over to the door, stopped, gave them a withering look. “I’ll be at the bar.”
“Bring me a pint,” Geralt called.
“I’m not coming back.”
Geralt just smiled.
“I really hate you, you know that, right?” The bard shook his head. “I don’t know why I even bother, truly. I get nothing but sass from these two.” Grumbling, he let himself out of the room and headed down the stairs.
“How do you know he’ll be back,” Yennefer asked, still bathing the infected wound.
“Because he always is,” Geralt said. “Besides, he’ll ask everyone in the common room about treating wounds and he’ll no doubt find someone with some crazy idea that sends him pounding back up the stairs.”
“Without your ale.”
“Without my ale,” Geralt confirmed.
Yennefer was wrapping the last of the muslin around Geralt’s wound when the door flew open. Two sets of eyes whipped to discern the disturbance, finding only a grinning bard in the doorway.
“Guess what I learned?”
Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other and groaned.
“If it has anything to do with maggots,” Geralt began, before being interrupted by the bard.
“No, no, of course not,’ Jaskier said, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “This is even better.”
“I can’t wait to hear this,” Yennefer deadpanned.
“Oh, you won’t regret sticking around for this,” he said, launching into a tale that neither of them could fully believe was true.
Jaskier was, after all, a bard.
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Date: 2022-02-17 10:57 pm (UTC)WOOHOO! I've written so little fanfic the last ten years or so that I worry when I do!