Where I Stand

Anchor

The fucking Faerie queen is standing in the main hall of Kaer Morhen. The fucking Queen of Faerie.

Okay, logically Lambert knew that Jaskier was her grandson, technically making him a prince, but the revelation didn't exactly sink in until the seelie queen was right there in front of him, antlers and all, dressed in silks and jewels so bright she kind of hurts to look at. If Lambert's life wasn't already so goddamn weird, he would think himself dreaming.

He watches as the queen stands calmly near the hearth whilst Jaskier flits back and forth, carrying books and heaps of parchment that he leaves strewn over the tables. The bard, it appears, didn't sleep at all. He's wearing nothing more than his sleep clothes, his hair is ruffled, and dark bags sit under his eyes that he occasionally glamors away, only to have them return a few minutes later. Lambert is thankful, at least, that Geralt chose to wait until morning to wake everybody, because he really doesn't think he could have been able to sleep if it had been last night that Geralt knocked on his door, a grim expression on the witcher's face as he tells him, "Jaskier found it."

At least Eskel and Vesemir seem to be feeling as awkward as Lambert is. They had been ushered out of bed at the break of dawn along with Lambert, then all corralled in the great hall where Jaskier looks like he's preparing for the lecture of a lifetime. Eskel watches Jaskier with a max of amusement and discomfort on his face. Vesemir looks like he's about to fall asleep in his chair.

Finally, Jaskier comes to stand at the end of the table facing them and nods to his grandmother who approaches with a gait so smooth it looks as though she's gliding across the floor.

"Alright," Jaskier says, placing his hands flat on the table. "I'm sure Geralt has told you the situation, so I'll skip over any unnecessary details. The good news, as you know, is that I found Aiden's mark, and I know how to fix it. The bad news is that it won't be as easy to remove as we'd hoped. I'll need help from all of you to do it."

"Anything," Lambert says immediately. "Just tell me what you need me to do."

Jaskier nods, giving him a weak smile in return, then flips open the massive book on the table. On the page he points to is an inked drawing of the same rune on Aiden, along with what looks to be text and incantations written in Elder and Old Faerie.

"It's called the Mark of the Lost," Jaskier explains, pointing at the symbol. "It's an ancient Faerie Rune that's been outlawed for centuries."

The seelie queen nods, "During my father's reign it was used as a form of punishment for faeries that had committed crimes deemed unforgivable. Imprisonment does not mean much for an immortal, as we experience time differently. This rune was created to be an alternative."

Lambert swallows thickly, a lump forming in his throat as he gazes at the worn page. "What does it do?" he asks quietly.

Jaskier hesitates, neutral expression slipping. Before he can open his mouth to speak, however, the queen places a hand on his shoulder and continues for him. "Imprisonment of the mind," she says calmly. "Once in place, the rune acts like a parasite on the brain, slowly reducing the victim's sense of self. They are locked away piece by piece until nothing remains. It is a very painful and mentally exhausting process. Many of the creatures that roam the ancient woods were such people once."

Something awful twists in Lambert's gut. His fingernails dig into the meat of his palms until his knuckles turn white. When Lambert speaks, it's difficult to keep his voice from wavering. "So he's gone then. The curse, it... it took away everything that he was."

"Temporarily," Jaskier replies pointedly. "Once the mind is gone, it cannot recover-- but-- everything remains intact. Aiden's mind is simply dormant. He won't heal over time, but now that we know why, he doesn't have to. We just need to let him out, figuratively speaking."