And Howl Your Pain unto the Moon

Part 11 - Breaking

It must have been hours later when Yennefer finally found them, as the sun moved much lower on the horizon. He heard her steps and the opening of the door, so he stopped playing and turned to see her watching them, eyes soft and wistful. He realized that Geralt had fallen asleep and slid lower on the ground, his head now pillowed on Jaskier's thigh, so he nudged him gently to wake him up, and when he turned to the witch again, her expression was unreadable once again, the smell of lilac stronger than before.

"It's done, bard. Come," she turned around and walked inside while Jaskier turned to the now awake witcher nervously.

"Go, it's gonna be okay, Jask," the still sleep-deep voice told him and so he went.

Yennefer led him straight to the lab room they were in before and sat him down on the cot at the side. Then she floated the armchair in front of him, sat on it, and held up a vial with a glistening, distinctly blue liquid.

"I've thought about what you wrote you wanted from this and have to tell you. This solution doesn't come without risks. If you want to keep the positive parts of the curse, we can't just break it. We need to solidify it, but at the same time change it up enough, so that you're not a danger to others or yourself. There is a possibility of painful backlash," she said, perfectly manicured nail tapping on the glass, piercing violet eyes looking into his soul.

"I expected that, actually. I've seen enough curses to know it won't be easy," he shrugged his shoulders and was a bit surprised when he saw her smile.

"Okay, nice then! I've never even hoped you'd want me to curse you, bard. What a nice development," she nodded, now grinning, and he felt a bit nervous at that. Who was he kidding, a lot nervous.

"Oh pshhh, calm down you scaredy cat. Here's what the re-cursing is going to do. I read the original phrasing, and I reformed it to change the effects. Mind me, you are still going to have to turn on the full moons, there's nothing I can do about that part, but you should be fully conscious, with no hunger, and no wanting to kill. It might still hurt," she said, and he gulped but nodded. He was ready for that. He could overcome a bit of pain.

"We can use the touch to help. It seems like you have lots of willing cuddlers around, so if we keep that part to soothe the wolf, we could actually make it hurt less, in theory. I'm not too sure about that one myself, but it's a possibility," she said, and he nodded again. That was actually better than he imagined.

"You still want to do it then?" she asked, handing him the vial.

"Of course, I do. You're never gonna get rid of my annoying presence now, witch," he smirked much more confidently than he felt, took the potion, and drank it in one swig. It tasted of mint and soon he felt his eyelids falling, as her hands gently guided him to lie down.

"Sleep now, bard. We'll see if it worked in the morning."

...

There was a giant pair of piercing purple eyes watching him from the darkness of his dream. He walked towards it, but didn't move, because his body wasn't his anymore, it was the wolf's.

"Yours the body, yours the choice,
nimble fingers, soothing voice,
just once a month moon can change you,
reveal the wolf that's inside you.

The wolf's strength won't leave your body
but the curse won't rule your mind
even when you're hurt and bloody
you won't forget who's your kind.

With some love and with beloved pack
no longer lone wolf as such
there's no more pain when turning back
with the help of loving touch."

The voice was soothing, and he felt himself shiver even with the thick fur, then he curled into a ball in between the warm bodies of his packmates and slept.

...

Jaskier woke up slowly. He was well-rested and a bit hungry when he blinked his eyes open to see the sun had already risen high up behind the window and the birds were singing loudly going through with their day. He sat up on the cot and looked at his hands to see no change there. No fur, no claws. It wasn't a full moon anyway, so he never thought he would turn, but still, he remembered the last time he was cursed and how that ended.

He stood up, stretched, satisfied at the crack that left his spine and walked out of the room. He stopped, silent, listening for any signs of Yennefer and where he could find her, when he heard some noise coming from the kitchen and walked quietly, following it. It was clear that she was there, talking, and when a low rumble answered her, he knew Geralt was there too.

He tried not to let that lessen his excitement over having the curse cured. He knew this would happen. He knew she would take him back. That Geralt would want that. But still, the voices continued, and he couldn't help but listen, deep in his heart selfishly hoping they were arguing.

"... remember he'll need the touch, especially from the beginning. The curse has been applied but it will take at least two full moons for the new one to get rid of the pain. I know how you feel but cuddle the heck out of him for gods' sake," Yennefer lectured.

"I will, it's just that it's..." the low rumble answered and Jaskier felt his heart clench. What is it, Geralt?

"Melitele's ass, Geralt, I know. But try. Talk to him about it, I'm sure he'll be glad you did. The worst case is that he'll just travel with one of your brothers. He'll still be okay," the witch's voice was soft, intimate, and full of understanding.

"Yen..." the deep voice cracked and Jaskier forced his eyes closed, trying to stop the tears.

"I'm so sorry, again. You are really important to me, you know? I can't lose you," the witcher's heavy gravel tore right through the bard's heart.

"It's okay, you won't. I promise."

He couldn't listen anymore, his heart was hurting, there was blood rushing into his ears making all sounds muffled, his eyes were filling with tears, and he just had to get away, so he held his breath as long as he could and tiptoed back through the hallway to the entrance door and slipped out. At that point, his face was wet from the tears, but he still tried to hold the sobs back, as he stumbled around the cottage trying to find a place to hide.

Finally, he saw the stable, heard familiar horse noises with the oh-so-comforting smell of Roach, stumbled inside, and shut the door, before collapsing inside the mare's stall. There, with a warm horse muzzle sniffing at his neck, he finally, finally broke down crying.