"It's me," he says quietly, struck by the huskiness of Jaskier's voice. He should have brought water, he didn't think of it. "Radovid." Comma, King, he doesn't add, because he doesn't really want to joke about this. He pulls his hood back so Jaskier can see for himself, his blond hair curling against his cheeks. Radovid looks tired, dark shadows deep under his worried eyes.
"Jaskier, are you hurt?" he whispers urgently, stepping closer so he can slip his arm through the bars of the cell, reaching into the darkness for Jaskier's hand. Perhaps it is unwise, he realizes, to come so close to a man backed into a desperate corner. Jaskier could hurt him. He has before, though only with his words, not with his hands. He persists still, his other hand coming to rest against the bars, the keys he's holding clinking against the metal.
"Radovid?!" Jaskier's voice boomed with disbelief, echoing off the dungeon's walls. He wasn't sure who to expect to approach his cell, but admittedly Radovid was so far down the list he found himself sputtering as he struggled to get his brain to catch up. And sure enough, it was Radovid standing in front of him, plain as day. He wasn't sure if he was wholly glad to see him or just happy that it wasn't someone worse than Rience.
"Am I hurt, he asks?" Jaskier scoffed, dusting himself off dramatically, because even in distress he could not help it. It was in his nature to deflect, so as not to show any weakness. It was the only strength he had, the ability to perform, so he might as well put it to good use, right? "I shall live. I have not been interrogated yet, thankfully." Even though the fire fucker was no longer a concern, the association would be enough to fill him with enough fear to freeze up. He could not afford it, if Redanian intelligence should try to pry Ciri's whereabouts out of him.
"What in Melitele's tits are you even doing here?" he asked as he struggled to keep his expression neutral, even though memories of their time spent together started to rise to the surface, begging him to be a little softer.
"Shhhh," Radovid shushed in return, eyebrows going up in worry, extending his arm into the cell further to placate Jaskier pleadingly. He glanced towards the end of the corridor anxiously, where the guards would no doubt be back very soon. "Please, not so loud. No-one knows I'm here," he added quietly, a little apologetic at the way he had just shushed Jaskier.
He straightened up at Jaskier's scoffing answer, squaring his shoulders to take it better, nodding. "No, I-" He answered, swallowing but meeting Jaskier's eyes. "I told them to wait until Philippa and Dijkstra were back." An easy enough order, as the guards would much rather wait until the true masters of the castle came back to take any kind of decision.
"I'm going to break you out," Radovid announced, pulling his hand back once it was clear Jaskier wasn't going to take it, holding up the keys instead. "I have the keys, I am kind of, um. The King?" That sounds almost like an apology, too. "They won't let me free you, but I've lived in this castle all my life. I know how to get in undetected, and how to get out."
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"Jaskier, are you hurt?" he whispers urgently, stepping closer so he can slip his arm through the bars of the cell, reaching into the darkness for Jaskier's hand. Perhaps it is unwise, he realizes, to come so close to a man backed into a desperate corner. Jaskier could hurt him. He has before, though only with his words, not with his hands. He persists still, his other hand coming to rest against the bars, the keys he's holding clinking against the metal.
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"Am I hurt, he asks?" Jaskier scoffed, dusting himself off dramatically, because even in distress he could not help it. It was in his nature to deflect, so as not to show any weakness. It was the only strength he had, the ability to perform, so he might as well put it to good use, right? "I shall live. I have not been interrogated yet, thankfully." Even though the fire fucker was no longer a concern, the association would be enough to fill him with enough fear to freeze up. He could not afford it, if Redanian intelligence should try to pry Ciri's whereabouts out of him.
"What in Melitele's tits are you even doing here?" he asked as he struggled to keep his expression neutral, even though memories of their time spent together started to rise to the surface, begging him to be a little softer.
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He straightened up at Jaskier's scoffing answer, squaring his shoulders to take it better, nodding. "No, I-" He answered, swallowing but meeting Jaskier's eyes. "I told them to wait until Philippa and Dijkstra were back." An easy enough order, as the guards would much rather wait until the true masters of the castle came back to take any kind of decision.
"I'm going to break you out," Radovid announced, pulling his hand back once it was clear Jaskier wasn't going to take it, holding up the keys instead. "I have the keys, I am kind of, um. The King?" That sounds almost like an apology, too. "They won't let me free you, but I've lived in this castle all my life. I know how to get in undetected, and how to get out."