Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Breathe, bard.”

Jaskier obeyed, gasping in a ragged and painful breath.

There were feet pounding against the ground, running, screaming-

“Let it out- shit. Lambert!” His rescuer-Witcher. Green eyes- Cat?- hollered.

Nothing hurt anymore.

The noise all around him faded into the background once again as he let himself drift-

“Stay awake,” the Cat Witcher ordered, and Jaskier tried. He did.

He could follow orders. He could be useful-

Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you, shoveling it?!

That gods awful wrench in his chest tightened again, and he had to grit his teeth to keep back the whimper.

He’d rather be numb than this.

“Fuck- you’re going to be alright,” the Witcher in front of him insisted. “My name’s Aiden. You’re Jaskier, right? The White Wolf’s bard?”

He couldn’t stop the sob that tore out of his mouth, and Aiden swore again, shifting his grip so Jaskier was leaning entirely on him.

“Oh good, you got him,” another voice spoke.

Aiden seemed to heave a sigh of relief at that. “Any of those fuckers escape?”

“Fuck no,” the other voice snorted. “We better get him out of here, and fast. He looks like a strong breeze’l push him into the grave.”

Rude, if accurate. He currently felt like shit and he could only imagine how he looked.

“…Not… dead… then?” he finally rasped.

“Not dead. Not yet.” Strong arms lifted him and he let his head fall onto someone’s shoulders. “Lamb, get the door would you?”

The world drifted out of focus, and he tried to obey the one order he’d been given, tried to be good, but it was all so loud. Too loud. Too many sounds, making everything in his body hurt so much worse.

“Just stay awake,” the voice next to his ear insisted, distorted and echoing around them.

But there was a bone deep ache that grew heavier with each step his savior took.

“Hold on for us, alright?”

But the world had spun away in dreadful colors he couldn’t keep up with anymore.

“Don’t sleep yet, don’t do it!”

But the siren call of the pain being over was too strong to ignore.

He closed his eyes, and knew no more.

“Easy,” a voice was speaking next to him.

The bed he was lying on was soft and warm, and he groaned, failing to lift his arm, let alone his head. “Easy there bard. You’re safe.”

Jaskier opened his eyes, drawing in a sharp breath as he took in gray hair and slitted golden eyes.

“Easy,” the voice repeated. “I’m Vesemir. Headmaster at Kaer Morhen. That’s where you are now.”

That explained the similarities.

Jaskier blinked, trying to look around as the rest of the room stopped spinning so much.

Stone greeted him.

There was a warm fire behind Vesemir, who was seated next to the bed he was lying on.

“Lambert and his Cat got the letter, and got you out of there,” Vesemir explained, answering the question Jaskier was still in too much pain to think of.

“Letter?” He finally asked.

Vesemir nodded. “The one with your blood on it? I’d call it a ransom note but there weren’t any demands.”

Oh.

Jaskier hadn’t seen what was on the paper. If he had he’d have told the bastards not to waste their time.

Apparently, someone had cared after all.

Wait.

He was in Kaer Morhen.

Geralt would be here.

“Easy,” Vesemir repeated again, “you’re alright. You’re safe. No one will hurt you here.”

“You… know?” Jaskier rasped, his heart sinking as Vesemir nodded.

“The evidence of their torture was written in your skin, and I could smell them on you. I know what they did to you.”

He could have wept, though with fear or relief he wasn’t sure.

Vesemir didn’t know about the mountain. Good.

He had some time then before he needed to leave.

“You need rest,” Vesemir continued, “I can have Lambert and Aiden bring you up some food in a few hours, but your body needs sleep more than food.”

Jaskier nodded. He could already feel himself starting to pass out again.

Vesemir’s hand was warm against his as the world grew hazy again. “Rest. You’re safe here.”

Something smelled amazing.

“Hey,” a soft voice spoke next to him, “there you are. There’s food, when you’re ready to wake up.”

It was easier to open his eyes this time, finding those green slitted eyes staring down at him gently.

“…Aiden?” he guessed, and the Witcher sitting next to him on the bed smiled.

“Good to see your memory is working. Come, can you sit up? The stew will go down easier that way.”

Jaskier did his best, and Aiden helped him with a hand on his arm, and then someone else was sliding pillows behind his back for him to rest against.

He glanced over to see a Witcher with wild red hair and yellow slit eyes that was sitting in the chair Vesemir had been in.

“Lambert,” Jaskier guessed, and the Witcher nodded.

“I should fucking hope so. Here, eat something, you still look like shit.”

Lambert passed a bowl across, and Jaskier tried to hold it, but his arms shook and Aiden quickly wrapped his own hands around Jaskier’s, helping him hold the bowl.

The first bite was amazing, and Jaskier groaned as he quickly shoveled more food into his mouth, barely tasting it.

“Damn, how long did they have you for?” Lambert asked, and Aiden turned and glared at him. “What? The bard looks like he’s fucking starving.”

Jaskier swallowed what was in his mouth, grimacing. “…I don’t know,” he admitted. “Weeks, at least.”

The silence was heavy, and Jaskier slowly finished eating what was in the bowl, his stomach clenching painfully.

When he finally finished eating, Aiden set the bowl aside, before clearing his throat awkwardly. “…We’re sorry,” he finally began, and Jaskier glanced at him, confused. “You got hurt because of your association with Witchers. You’ve done so much to help us… we should have been able to better protect you.”

“I got hurt because someone didn’t like Geralt,” Jaskier corrected. “And that’s on them. Assholes exist all over the place. I’ve never even met any of the rest of you before, you don’t have to try to protect me.”

“Bullshit,” Lambert snorted, and Jaskier thought he might remember a few of the things Geralt had said about Lambert.

Specifically ‘fiery tempered’ and ‘bad mouthed’.

“The first human in the history of Witchers to give a fuck about us, and we can’t keep him safe? Nah, this is a failing on our part. All Witchers should watch out for you. You’re too damn important to let fucked up stuff like this happen to.”

He hadn’t often thought about what the other Witchers might think of him. Usually, he just assumed they’d find him as mildly endearing as Geralt seemed to. And, after the mountain, Jaskier had just assumed they’d all hate him too. But from what few stories he’d heard from Geralt, he’d assumed Lambert of all of them would be least likely to approve of Jaskier.

To hear him say that, after everything Jaskier had lived through in the last year?

He couldn’t stop the tears welling up in his eyes, and Lambert swore. “Ah fuck, what’d I do? Shit, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it-“

Jaskier shook his head, trying to wipe the tears away, and he blinked as Aiden handed him a handkerchief.

Geralt had never carried one, and Jaskier hadn’t even realized that other Witchers could.

He accepted it, trying to dry his eyes. “I- I must apologize, I just- I’m not sure what’s come over me-“

“You’ve been through hell,” Aiden summarized, though he really didn’t know the half of it, Jaskier was sure. “…Where was Geralt? I was under the impression he was traveling with you, keeping you safe.”

Jaskier’s throat grew tight at the mention of him, and he shook his head, clearing his throat.

“Ah… no. No, Geralt… Geralt and I-“ his voice caught on the words and he could feel tears threatening to fall again. Fuck, he wanted to be done with the crying! “…He’s quite done with me, I’m afraid,” he managed, and even that made his voice crack.

Fuck, now his hand was shaking- he shouldn’t have said anything, he should have just kept quiet and-

“What happened?” Aiden asked softly, and Jaskier shook his head, gritting his teeth as he tried not to keep crying.

Wood scraped against stone, and then Lambert was setting an uncertain hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “…You’re safe here, alright? Whatever happened, we’re not gonna let you get hurt again.”

Jaskier tried to nod his thanks, and Aiden gently squeezed his hand. “Get some rest. When you feel up to it we can show you around the keep.”

Then Aiden was standing up, quietly tugging Lambert out of the room, finally giving Jaskier a moment alone.

…He was so tired of it all.

He just wanted everything to be over already.

He tried to lay back down, ignoring the voice echoing through his head.

If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.

Chapter Text

It had been a good year. Each year had, for the last decade or so. Geralt’s bard had been a blessing to all Witchers, and one Eskel was constantly grateful for.

Contracts paid well with little complaint, he’d managed to get more supplies than usual, and was looking forward to a calm winter.

Which was when he walked in the doors to Kaer Morhen and got hit with the smell of bleeding human.

What the fuck?

He set down his pack, hand straying towards his sword.

“Vesemir?” He called, and heard Vesemir’s tired voice respond.

“In the kitchen,” his mentor called. “You’ll have to come to me, I can’t set this down.”

At least he could let his hand drop from his sword handle, but he kept his swords with him in case.

The inside of the kitchen looked like the labs had exploded. Every surface was covered with salves and tinctures and ingredients as Vesemir carefully stirred a potion.

Eskel stared around himself in disbelief. “What… happened?”

“We don’t have human safe potions, and I left Lambert and Aiden in the labs working on them, but I'm trying to be prepared.”

“…Sir, that’s not an answer.”

Vesemir glanced up, before sighing. “Right. Sorry. I haven’t slept since Lambert arrived. We don’t know what’s happened to him beyond what we can smell and if something happens to him Geralt will never forgive me and I need to be prepared but white honey could /kill/ a human-“

“Happened to ‘him’? Lambert?”

Vesemir shook his head, pouring the potion into a bottle and finally sagging against the counter.

“No. Jaskier. Lambert and Aiden brought him here three days ago. He was tortured.”

He’d never met Jaskier before. Geralt had always brushed them off whenever they suggested bringing the bard to Kaer Morhen for the winter, and they’d never pushed.

Now, standing over the bed where Jaskier lay unconscious, bruised and bloody and reeking of pain and fear… Eskel regretted never pushing.

“Something happened,” Lambert said quietly, trying not wake the bard. “Between him and Geralt. Won’t talk about it. But he smelled of pain when he spoke of Geralt.”

Eskel took a seat, far away from the bard so as to not scare him when he woke up. “…The men that did this?”

“Dead. All of ‘em.”

Eskel nodded.

It was good that they were dead, but that left him with nothing to do with this anger in his chest.

"Has he talked about it yet?”

Lambert sighed. “I’m not even sure if he knows we know yet.”

“He’s spent years traveling with Geralt, and he’s drenched in their smell. He knows.”

Lambert sighs, and nodded. “…Yeah probably. We should show him to the hot springs when he’s up to it. I don’t imagine it’s pleasant, smelling like ones’ rapists.”

Eskel sat on the chair, trying to sort through the chaos in his mind. “…Geralt doesn’t know yet, does he?”

“Nah. He’s still not up the killer. Taking his time this year. The letter found me instead.”

“Letter?”

Lambert looked up. “…Fuck, Vesemir didn’t tell you. Go ask him, he may still have it. If he hasn’t burned it already.”

Eskel nodded, and took his leave.

“I wanted to run some tests before I destroyed it,” Vesemir explained. “See if I could track down anyone else who might have been involved, but not present when Aiden and Lambert showed up.” He fought back a yawn, wincing as he handed it over. “Read it if you want, but you’re going to need to punch something if you do.”

Eskel nodded, before patting Vesemir on the shoulder. “Go to bed, old man. You’ve done enough. He’s stable, and we’ll wake you if something goes wrong. Trust us.”

Vesemir sighed, and nodded, standing up and slowly trudging out of the room. “Less of the old man,” he grouched, and Eskel flipped him off with his back turned, smiling fondly.

The smile didn’t last.

Already he could smell Jaskier’s blood on the page.

He unfolded the letter, grimaced at the splatter of blood across it, and started reading.

Missing someone?

Your bard has been an entertaining toy for my men to play with, but we’re starting to grow bored with him. What does a monster want with such a pretty toy?

Careful, Butcher, or we might just make him our bitch next.

Eskel set the letter down calmly, resisting the urge to igni the thing.

No ransom demand, no sign that they had ever planned to let Jaskier go, just threats and that awful name.

Punching something wasn’t enough. He needed to burn everyone behind this.

He stood, heading out the main doors and into the snow, lighting igni in his hands and letting the power flow, fueled by his anger as he melted the snow in the courtyard.

Every year, humans found more and more ways to disgust him.

The snow melted around him as he let out the anger, pouring fire into the cold air until the stone underneath was dry, and he was exhausted.

He sank to his knees, gasping in ragged breaths as he shook.

This had gotten far too close to home. He could handle threats to himself, but Geralt’s bard was an innocent. He should have been safe.

Why wasn’t Geralt with him?

He startled as someone clapped above him, and he turned around to see the bard poking his head out the window of his room, watching him.

“Impressive!” Jaskier called down, and as much as Eskel wanted to take the flattery, he could hear how hoarse Jaskier’s voice was.

“Get back inside!” Eskel hollered up at him.

Jaskier gave him a crooked smile, which somehow still looked like sunlight even with the bruises on his face. “But I want to meet you!”

Eskel sighed, shaking his head. “Get back inside and I’ll come up,” he shouted, and Jaskier nodded, ducking back inside as the window closed.

…What the hell?

Jaskier was lying on his side on the bed when Eskel entered, and he smiled, but didn’t make a move to sit up. “Apparently I’m not as healed as I’d hoped,” he explained. “I’ve met the others already, so you must be Eskel.”

“I must be, eh?” Eskel asked as he took a seat next to Jaskier’s bed. “And you must be Jaskier.”

The bard chuckled. “No fair, the others told you that.”

“They did,” he agreed. “But Geralt told you about me, just as he told me about you.”

Jaskier’s smile fell a bit, and gut wrenching grief filled the air.

What the fuck? What had Geralt done?

“…I’m sure he had plenty to say,” Jaskier muttered bitterly.

The. Fuck?

He opened his mouth to ask, then thought better of it. Right now Jaskier was recovering.

“I don’t see a lute in here… do you want me to ask the others if they found it?”

Jaskier looked up sharply. “Would you? She’s very important to me.”

Eskel nodded. “Of course. Next time you drop off to sleep.”

Jaskier smiled again. “Oh? Are you to keep me company until then?”

“Someone should. Can’t leave a guest unattended, after all.”

"Mmm. Lambert was here when I woke up, but I think he stepped out for a bit-"The yawn that interrupted him told Eskel that Jaskier wouldn’t be awake much longer, but Jaskier was fighting sleep. “I- I wanted to get to know you, a bit,” Jaskier admitted. “I’ve heard some rumors about you. The dragon of Kaer Morhen. Your proficiency with fire outside was glorious to watch, but it didn’t tell me anything about you.”

“You’ll have all winter to abate that curiosity,” Eskel promised, and Jaskier’s scent soured again.

“…I shouldn’t stay that long,” Jaskier whispered. Already he was struggling to keep his eyes open, and Eskel wanted to say something about it, but Jaskier wasn’t in a proper state to have a conversation.

Instead, Eskel quickly thought about what he could say to help ease Jaskier’s dreams before he slept.

“You’re a bard, so you like poetry, yes? There’s an entire collection of poems in the library here. I could get you a few books for while you’re recovering.”

Jaskier smiled softly, his eyes lidded as he drifted. “That sounds nice…” he slurred, eyes staying closed for longer than they were open now.

Eskel gently stood up, tugging Jaskier’s blanket over his shoulder, before resting a gentle hand on his head as he fell asleep.

“…Sleep well, Jaskier,” he whispered. “You’re safe here.”

What the fuck had happened?

Chapter Text

He’d never been to Kaer Morhen before.

Lambert had discussed it with him a few times, but the conclusion was always the same: the Wolves weren’t ready to forgive a Cat yet. So, Aiden and Lambert traveled the path together, then said goodbye in Ard Carraigh at the beginning of each winter, meeting up again in the spring.

That had been the plan.

Then the letter.

Then rushing to find Jaskier, hunting down the scent of the bastards who’d written the letter, and saving the bard.

Or… saving what was left of him.

“The White Wolf has good taste,” Aiden commented as he sat next to Jaskier, waiting for him to wake up once more. He’d only just woken up the day before, and he still hadn’t left the room. “Imagine how pretty he’d be without the bruises.”

Lambert snorted. “Not as pretty as you, kitty.”

Aiden smirked. “No one’s as pretty as me,” he said sardonically. “But he might come close.”

The scent of fear spiked again, and Jaskier began whimpering in his sleep. Immediately Lambert cast Somne again. “You’re safe,” he whispered, his words granted power through Somne, and Jaskier calmed down, the fear easing. “No one can hurt you, you’re completely safe.”

After Lambert released the sign, Aiden leaned back in his chair, frowning. “How long did your headmaster say we could use that?”

Lambert groaned, running a hand over his face. “One week of constant use before it starts to cause problems, so we’ve got three days left.”

Aiden nodded, frowning down at the man that had done so much for Witchers. And had suffered horribly because of it. “…we should tell him, so he’s not surprised by it.”

“Sure,” Lambert agreed, crossing his arms. “When he stays awake long enough to talk, and we can get some answers. Like what happened with Geralt, and if there’s anyone else we need to hunt down. Then we can tack on that we’ve been using Witcher signs to keep the nightmares out of his mind.”

“I figured,” Jaskier rasped from the bed, and they both turned to stare at him.

“You wake up quietly,” Aiden commented, and Jaskier tried to smile, but it fell flat.

“Mmm. Spent twenty years trailing a Witcher…” his words trailed off, that same hurt and sorrow filling the air again, and Aiden cleared his throat, desperate to get that scent away from Jaskier.

“Are you feeling better? We could show you down to the hot springs after breakfast if you’d like.”

Jaskier blinked. “Hot springs?”

He still needed help getting down to the hot springs, but Aiden only had to wrap an arm around him to keep him upright as Jaskier insisted he could walk.

They moved slowly, taking the steps carefully as Jaskier took steady breaths, and Aiden took as much of Jaskier’s weight as he could as they walked. By the time they reached the hot springs, Jaskier was panting for breath, sweat clinging to his hair, but he smelled fucking proud of himself, and Aiden grinned with him.

“Good for you. We made it. I’m carrying you back up when we’re done though.”

Jaskier opened his mouth, likely to argue, but then paused before sighing. “Probably for the best. Down is always easier than up.”

Aiden helped Jaskier over to a bench, and Jaskier slowly started peeling off his shirt. Aiden turned around to give him some privacy, taking off his own clothes.

“Where did Lambert go?” Jaskier asked, and Aiden blinked, turning around.

“You don’t remember?”

Jaskier shrugged. “I… I think I might be missing some time. Things don’t… I’m not back to myself yet.”

Well fuck. “Lambert said he was going to help Vesemir with some potions in the labs.”

Jaskier nodded. “Right… he’s… good with alchemy. Ger-“ Jaskier cut off, shaking his head and shoving the rest of his clothes off.

Aiden tried to turn, but he found himself frozen as he stared at the scars along Jaskier’s body.

Bruises, he’d expected. But the cuts and burns were worse than he’d feared, and after a moment he had to force himself to look away.

“…I know they’re bad,” Jaskier whispered, and Aiden grimaced, searching for something to say.

“No worse than a Witcher’s,” he tried after clearing his throat. He offered Jaskier a hand, helping him stand up and walking him over to the hot springs. “You can look at my scars if you want. I promise they look worse on me.”

He wasn’t expecting the sharp poke to the ribs that earned him, and he glanced over, surprised. “Don’t you dare put yourself down. You’re gorgeous, with your… tan skin and… long black hair and… thick… shoulders…”

Aiden had to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back the laughter. “You’re really struggling there, aren’t you bard?”

“Excuse me if I’ve been trying to avoid words for a few weeks,” Jaskier grumbled as Aiden helped him down into the hot springs. “Oh fuck that’s nice.”

Aiden had thought the same thing a few days ago when he’d first been introduced to them, and had scrubbed Jaskier’s blood off his body.

It was much nicer to be here with Jaskier himself than his blood.

“Geralt never mentioned these?” Aiden asked. “Lambert’s been bragging about them for years.”

Fuck, he needed to stop mentioning Geralt, because that scent of sorrow and agony was becoming too much for him to bear, and he wasn’t sure he was the right one to ask about the problem anyway. Lambert, or Eskel, or even Vesemir, yes. But not him. He was an outsider here.

Jaskier also had no interest in talking about it, it seemed. “Back in Oxenfurt, there’s a bathhouse connected to a hot spring. The place is crowded, and expensive, but it’s worth it. There’s fancy soaps and hair oils and perfumes…” he trailed off, and Aiden sighed.

“Sounds like a hell made of scents,” he admitted, and Jaskier chuckled sadly.

“I suppose it would be.”

Aiden found himself staring at Jaskier’s injuries again, even as Jaskier slowly washed up. “…Did they ever say what they wanted?”

Jaskier shook his head. “All I know is that they were trying to get to Geralt. And they enjoyed how they were doing it.”

Right.

Aiden worked on cleaning himself up, trying not to let the anger show.

It wasn’t Jaskier that Aiden was angry at, it was the bastards that had hurt him. But he didn’t think Jaskier would appreciate that at the moment.

“…Thank you,” Jaskier whispered. “For rescuing me. And I’m sorry you had to.”

What?

Aiden reached over, gently ruffling Jaskier’s hair. “No need to apologize for that. You didn’t ask to get caught by those bastards. Besides, it’s nice to finally meet the great Jaskier. I might even call it an honor.”

That at least made a smile tug on Jaskier’s lips. “…Some honor…” he took a long breath, letting it slowly out as he straightened his spine. “Well. I’m sorry it’s under such poor circumstances, but I look forward to getting to know you all the same.”

After they’d finished bathing, Aiden helped carry Jaskier up to the main hall for lunch, where the others were already gathered.

The bard still wasn’t eating much, only a bowl of food each meal, but Aiden wasn’t sure how much of that was because he was injured, and how much was because he was human.

It had been a very long time since he’d actually interacted with humans for any long stretch of time, and he was shocked to realize he wasn’t used to it anymore. Still, Jaskier was funny when he was trying, and he fit well within their group, listening intently to stories of monsters and sharing stories. Tales of past romances with women of the court, and sometimes men, and various barmaids and stable hands- and their stable hands, that had the entire table cracking up.

The scents of fear and pain had almost entirely eased by the time they’d finished eating, and Aiden was ask if Jaskier needed one hand or both back up to his room, when he heard the main gates swing open, and everyone fell quiet.

Ah fuck.

Jaskier noticed the sudden quiet, and glanced around. “What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

“That’ll be Geralt,” Vesemir answered, and the color drained from Jaskier’s face, grief and fear and pain all spiking in his scent.

“Fuck- I- I need to go-“

“Jaskier?” Eskel asked. “What’s wrong?”

Jaskier was shaking his head. “I- I shouldn’t have stayed-“

It was too late to do anything though.

The doors to the main hall swung open, and there stood the White Wolf himself.

And a young girl behind him.

Chapter Text

Everything froze.

No one moved for several moments.

“…Jaskier?” Geralt asked, and the moment ended.

Jaskier stood up, shaking his head and running out of the room, Aiden quickly following him.

Lambert glanced between Geralt and where Jaskier had just run off, knowing they could all smell the terror that had clung to him. Almost as strong as when Lambert had found Jaskier in that room, bloody and bruised and barely hanging on to consciousness in Aiden’s arms.

And now he smelled like that around Geralt, the person he’d followed for twenty years.

“Alright, what the fuck is going on?” Lambert asked, fed up with the lack of answers. “Who’s the girl, and why is your bard so fucking scared of you?”

Geralt shook himself, grimacing as he limped into the room-

What fucking happened?

It was Vesemir that spoke next. “…You must be his child surprise.”

Fucking what?!

Lambert and Eskel stared, and the girl followed Geralt slowly into the room, before squaring her shoulders and walking up to Vesemir. “Cirilla of Cintra,” she introduced. “A pleasure to meet you.”

…A fucking princess.

Vesemir, fucking bless him, took this in stride. “Be welcome at Kaer Morhen. You must have had a long journey. Come, there’s food and a warm fire, and you can tell your story.”

Yeah, because Lambert fucking needed to hear this.

He glanced over at Geralt, frowning.

…He needed to hear what happened with Jaskier, too, but he had a feeling that was going to be a harder story to pull.

Through the girl's story, Lambert kept glancing over at Eskel, trying to see what he was thinking about this new madness.

He was feeling much better about bringing his Cat after all this.

After it was all said, Lambert sat back, frowning. “…So. We’re protecting your daughter from Nilfgaard, while helping your bard heal. Great. Geralt, what the fuck happened to you this year?”

“Why is Jaskier here?” Geralt asked, and even with their long years Lambert couldn’t read his tone.

Vesemir shook his head. “…Find a room for your girl, get her settled, then come find me. I’ll fill you in.”

Geralt nodded, and he and Ciri left the room right as Aiden came back.

“How is he?” Lambert asked, and Aiden shook his head.

“He didn’t talk, just paced around his room till his legs gave out and I made him lie down. Whatever went down between him and Geralt, it was bad. Did Geralt say what happened?”

Lambert shook his head. “Not with Jaskier. Gave a basic story about the girl. Cirilla of Cintra. His child of surprise. She’s running from Nilfgaard.”

Aiden whistled. “This was a bad year to know Geralt, apparently.”

“I’ve never seen him look like that,” Eskel commented, and Vesemir shook his head.

“…He wasn’t expecting the bard to be here. If I didn’t know better… I’d say he looked scared.”

Wasn’t that a thought.

A few minutes later Geralt was back, sitting down heavily on the bench. “…You’re new,” he commented to Aiden, who offered a small wave.

“Aiden. Of the Cats. I’m here with Lambert.”

Geralt stared at Lambert, who shook his head. “Don’t give me that, you brought a princess! Besides, he helped me save your bard.”

That stopped Geralt. “Save him? What happened? Why is Jaskier here?”

Vesemir sighed, pulling the letter out of his pocket and handing it over. “Lambert and Aiden got this. We think it was meant for you.”

Geralt took the letter, reading it quickly, a cold mask settling over his face as he took it in.

“…The people that had him?” he asked, no emotion in his voice.

“Dead,” Aiden answered. “At least anyone who was in that house. It was a band of mercenaries. We haven’t had a chance to ask him yet if there was anyone else, this is the first time he’d been awake long enough to leave his room.”

“We were going to ask him questions today,” Lambert continued, leaning forward as he glared at Geralt, “but then you showed up, and he got fucking scared. So why don’t you tell us what the fuck happened?”

Geralt swallowed. “…We had a fight.”

“Explain,” Eskel insisted, crossing his arms.

Geralt just shook his head. “I… said things I shouldn’t have. I haven’t seen him…” he trailed off. Stared at the letter. “…What did they do to him?”

His voice was smaller than Lambert had ever heard, and Lambert was tempted to go easy on him, but he still didn’t have answers.

“’Things you shouldn’t have’? Then why the fuck does he smell like fucking grief every time someone says your fucking name?!”

Geralt flinched, and Vesemir raised his hand, silencing the table. “…It’s not our place to say what he’s lived through. You’ll have to ask him that. But if he’s asleep, you need to let him rest. The rest of us have been on rotation, casting Somne while he sleeps to keep the nightmares away. Until you’ve talked to him, until he’s not scared of you anymore, you’re not going to be on that rotation.”

Geralt nodded, his hands clenching as he stared at the letter. “…Let me know when he wakes up? I want to talk to him.”

Vesemir nodded, and Lambert pushed himself up from the table.

“I’m gonna go make sure he gets some actual fucking sleep,” he growled.

‘Said some things he shouldn’t have’. What a fucking understatement. Geralt might not be lying, but I’m not gonna believe a word of it till I hear Jaskier’s side of things. Geralt’s been rambling on for years about how the bard never smells like fear around him, something fucking changed.

He slowly opened the door to Jaskier’s room, only to find that the bard was still awake, staring up at the ceiling. “Ah- fuck- I thought you were asleep already.”

Jaskier snorted. “I gathered. I want to be alone.”

Lambert blinked. “Ah… you sure?”

Jaskier nodded, just once. “…Thank you, for everything you’ve done. But I want to be left alone.”

After another moment, Lambert nodded. “Right. Uh. Someone’ll check on you in a few hours then.”

He closed the door behind him, leaning against it as he thought.

Well. Fuck. Now he had to actually sit with his thoughts.

…Or he could do something useful with them.

Aiden was already in the labs when he arrived, and Aiden looked up quickly. “Not with Jaskier?”

Lambert shook his head. “He’s not asleep yet. Wants his privacy.”

“Mmm. And you’re here because…?”

Lambert sighed, leaning against Aiden’s shoulder. “How well you know me…” He frowned, thinking back. “…You know about my dad.”

Aiden nodded, letting Lambert continue.

“My mom was fucking terrified of him. Couldn’t smell it back then, wasn’t a Witcher, but I could see it. He’d walk in the door and she’d get real fucking quiet. We could have been laughing about a dumb joke and he’d show up and then…” he shook his head. “…I don’t want to believe Geralt could be like that. I’ve known him for fucking years. But… how many people ignored what my old man did? Claimed he could never be like that?”

“If that’s what it is, I will personally hold him down for you to beat up,” Aiden promised. “…But how much of that fear is of Geralt, and how much is of the people that hurt him? Maybe Geralt's just a reminder of what he lived through before.” Aiden turned and pressed a kiss to Lambert’s hair, before pulling back and looking Lambert directly in the eyes. “Whatever has to happen, I’m by your side. And we’ll make sure nothing happens to Jaskier, alright?”

Lambert nodded, letting out a heavy sigh as the tension rolled off of him. “Right. Pass me the beaker, I want to make something-“

They looked up as there was a knock on the doorway, and Eskel was standing there, frowning. “…Jaskier’s not with you?” he asked, and Lambert blinked.

“No… he said he wanted some privacy. Why?”

Eskel shook his head. “He’s not in his room. And I can’t hear his heartbeat.”

“Fuck. Go find Vesemir, I’ll try to follow his scent.”

Aiden followed Lambert out, and Lambert quickly trailed Jaskier’s scent from his room, out the main hall-

And out the front doors.

Out the front gate.

“Fuck,” he swore as he took in the second set of prints in the snow, walking away from the keep, following the trail Geralt had left when he arrived. He turned to Aiden. “Get the others, I’m going after him.”

Aiden nodded, running back into the keep as Lambert took off after Jaskier.

Damn it bard, what the hell are you trying to do, get yourself killed?!

Chapter Text

Witchers, he’d found, had one rather significant flaw. They assumed no one would ever get close enough to them to figure out how they worked.

He’d learned how to sneak around Geralt years ago, something that came in handy now.

He didn’t want to be stopped, or found. Didn’t want to deal with Vesemir or Eskel or Lambert or Aiden, trying to convince him to stay. Because he couldn’t deal with Geralt.

Fuck.

He must be so angry.

The one thing he’d asked of Jaskier, and he couldn’t even do that properly.

So, he’d snuck out, keeping his movements slow and his heartbeat calm as he walked through the empty halls, and finally out the front door, shivering in the cold.

That was alright.

The cold helped the burns hurt less.

The snow, on the other hand, was a problem.

He hadn’t thought it was that late in the season, but there seemed to be an entire blizzard stopping him from making his way down the mountain.

First a dragon hunt, now this, at this point he just needed to avoid mountains on principle.

He wasn’t sure how long he’d been walking. Time had stretched beyond meaning leaving him drifting in his own mind, the last few months playing on repeat in his mind.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you, off my hands!”

“Did you whimper for your mutant, Jaskier? Did he enjoy your screams?”

“Don’t know what a slut like him’s supposed to mean to the Witcher.”

He stopped short.

He’d been following the trail of Geralt and Roach’s prints in the snow as he walked down the mountain, but now they were gone.

Turning around, he realized his own tracks were rapidly filling in as the blizzard raged around him.

Fuck.

Well.

This was alright.

He just needed to not panic.

Alright, so, he didn’t know which way Geralt had come from, and there were two paths in front of him, but one was level and the other sloped down, so that had to be the way off this mountain.

It had to.

He squared his shoulders, and kept walking.

How fucking long is this trail?

What had been a downward slope had led Jaskier into what seemed to be a quarry with a frozen pool of water, and he sat for a bit on a stone ledge, taking shelter under a rock cliff from the inclement weather.

He couldn’t see beyond two feet ahead of him.

This was dangerous.

A part of him wanted to turn back, but then he remembered Geralt. Remembered how angry he’d been before, and the shock on Geralt’s face when he’d seen him in Kaer Morhen. In his home.

He couldn’t go back. Not now. Now the others would know how much Geralt hated him, and they’d think the same.

Better to disappear so he couldn’t bother them anymore.

…Fuck. He’d left his lute behind.

That was alright. He wasn’t exactly much of a bard anymore.

He shivered, rubbing his arms as he looked around. He’d come here from the… right? And was going left? Or was it the other way around?

He couldn’t see the trail anymore.

He moved to stand, only for his knee to buckle and he fell, landing face first in the snow.

Spluttering, he pushed himself up, only managing to roll over in the snow as cold wind and snow bore down on him.

…Was this it?

He’d spent so long this past year, wanting to die, was this how it ended?

His legs weren’t in pain, but he wasn’t cold anymore, and he knew that was dangerous.

He should be cold.

But he didn’t feel anything.

“You idiot!” Someone yelled, but he didn’t have the energy to follow the voice. Suddenly there were strong arms- warm arms- wrapping around his shoulders, lifting him from the snow. “Damnit Jaskier!” Lambert yelled, turning and blasting igni straight up into the sky.

A flare.

“If you don’t want to see that dumbass the whole winter then I will stay by your side and keep him away but you can’t just go running off to die!”

Then Lambert was shrugging off his jacket, wrapping it tight around Jaskier, the warmth almost painful.

“Didn’t… mean to…” he managed. “Was taking… myself… off… his hands…”

Lambert stilled. “What?”

“Life’s blessing,” Jaskier rasped, eyes slipping closed. “He… doesn’t want me… near him.”

“Hey hey hey stay awake!” Lambert yelled, shaking Jaskier. “Don’t fucking go to sleep, you hear me! Keep talking!” They were moving, Lambert lifting Jaskier in his arms, holding him close. “Tell me what that idiot did. Come on bard, talk!”

Jaskier shivered, the memories painful. “He… he was angry… said it was all my fault…” Somehow, even after everything, he still had tears to cry, scalding against his skin as Lambert tried to run through the snow with Jaskier in his arms. “The djinn… the girl… he blames me for everything. As he should. It’s all my fault…”

“Bullshit,” Lambert growled. “That fucker can make his own choices. He called the law of surprise, he knew the fucking risks, he doesn’t get to blame it on you. And I don’t know exactly what happened with this djinn, but from what we pried from Geralt, he’s the one that got you hurt. So he can kiss my ass.”

Jaskier managed to snort out a laugh at that. “I… didn’t really… think he went for that.”

Lambert chuckled, even as he ran. “Oh, we’re going to tell you so many stories this winter. We were randy fuckers in training, and we got up to shit that would make even a bard blush.”

Jaskier tried to nod, but his eyes were growing heavy, and he let his head fall back down onto Lambert’s shoulder.

“No, no, Jaskier you need to stay awake. Jaskier!”

“How is he?” Someone else called from ahead of them.

“Frozen solid, you need to get him back to Kaer Morhen, now!”

He was being lifted, shoved into someone else’s arms, and he painfully opened his eyes to see Eskel’s scarred face before a coat was being draped over him. “Stay awake, as long as you can,” Eskel told him. “Scorpion will get us back to the keep in no time.”

“…Scorpion?” Jaskier asked, and Eskel shook his head.

“My horse. We’re on him right now. You’ll have to meet him properly sometime, I’ve heard you like horses.”

He was too tired to hurt more, but his heart still ached.

He hadn’t even stopped to say goodbye to Roach this time, just abandoning everything to get as far away from Geralt as possible.

And it hadn’t even worked.

Time blurred, but he did his best to stay awake, only fully passing out as the spires of Kaer Morhen came into view.

He felt wrong.

The air was too fucking hot, he couldn’t breathe with it, and he tried to roll over to escape the searing heat only for someone to grab his shoulders, pinning him down-

No, no nonono-

“Jaskier, Jaskier,” someone was calling his name but he couldn’t answer, couldn’t think- couldn’t breathe-

A calm settled over his mind, everything else drifting away. The heat, the pain, the fear, all of it.

“You’re safe,” a soft voice whispered. “You’re alright. Nothing’s going to hurt you. Just breathe.”

Suddenly, it was easy. Breath wasn’t even a thought, just an action his body took without Jaskier’s awareness.

After a few moments, the spell released, and Jaskier realized he’d been axiid.

“There you are,” Eskel was by his head, one hand on his shoulder. “We’re down in the hot springs. You’re still too cold to get into the water, but once you’ve warmed up a bit I’ll help you in.”

He didn’t have the energy to respond, just trying to take deep breaths as he took stock of where he was.

He was bundled in blankets so thick he could barely move, Eskel behind him as Lambert sat in front of him, between him and the door.

“Once you’re not a fucking icicle, we’re gonna talk,” Lambert muttered, arms crossed.

Jaskier shuddered. “…Geralt?”

Lambert snorted. “Not back yet. We sent up a second flare when we got you back to Kaer Morhen, so he and Vesemir should be back soon. Aiden’s making some hot drink to make sure you warm up inside too.”

Eskel gently squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder. “…The passes are all closed over. Geralt got here barely ahead of the storm, and it’s not going to abate for another few days, at which point we’ll all be stuck here for the rest of the winter. But if you’re that desperate to leave, then I’ll escort you down the killer myself the moment the paths are clear.”

Jaskier didn’t have the energy to respond to that.

Lambert looked up, listening to something before he nodded. “Vesemir’s back, he’s taken over cooking. Aiden should be down with something for the frostbite in a minute.”

Sure enough, a few minutes later the steps echoed, and then Aiden was down with a few vials, and he crouched down in front of Jaskier, brushing his hand through his hair. “You scared us all, little lark. Don’t go flying off like that, alright? It’s not safe.”

Jaskier swallowed. “…sorry,” he managed.

Aiden sighed, shaking his head. “This cream should help with the frostbite, but it shouldn’t be applied till after you’ve had a chance to get in the water. Vesemir’ll want to look you over first, make sure you’re not gonna cause damage by getting in too soon, but once we’re done we’ll get you back up to your room.”

A thought struck him. “Ciri?”

Lambert shook his head. “The girl’s currently taking very thorough stock of our library. Maybe we’ll start a competition this winter, see which of the two of you can read more.” The red-haired Witcher was holding himself carefully.

He was angry, and trying to contain it.

Jaskier shouldn’t have run. He knew that. But what was his other option? Stay, in the same keep as Geralt, who hated him?

No, no he’d never once stayed where he was hated, he wasn’t about to start now.

Vesemir was down only a few minutes later, frowning at Jaskier. “…You sure do attract trouble, don’t you? Come on, you’re shaking now, so your core should have warmed up a bit. Let’s see what kind of damage we’re working with.

He began unwrapping the blankets from around Jaskier, only to stop as there was a loud bang from upstairs.

The others winced at the sound.

“Geralt’s back,” Eskel commented wryly.

“Lambert,” Aiden warned, “don’t do anything rash.”

Lambert stood up, cracking his knuckles. “Rash? Like what?” he asked calmly, and even Jaskier could hear the anger simmering.

“Like picking a fight before you have all the information-“

“I’ve got all the information I need,” Lambert declared as Geralt’s steps echoed in the hot springs as he descended the stairs quickly.

Aiden sighed, but stepped out of the way, and then Geralt was in the hot springs as Jaskier flinched back-

“Hey pretty boy,” Lambert growled, before decking Geralt across the face.

Jaskier stared as Geralt went down, clutching his face.

“…What the fuck Lambert?!” Geralt asked, before his eyes darted to Jaskier.

Jaskier just stared, utterly confused by the turn this conversation just took.

“What the fuck? What the fuck were you thinking treating your fucking bard like that, eh? Or do I have to remind you how many times he's saved your ass?!”

Chapter Text

By the time he’d made it back down the mountain, and found Jaskier’s things gone, he’d known he’d fucked up.

Seeing Jaskier, in Kaer Morhen, reeking of pain and fear, and fleeing from Geralt, he realized this might just be the worst he’d fucked up since claiming the law of surprise.

Then he read the letter, and his blood ran cold.

“…The people that had him?” He couldn’t let his anger slip, not again, but he wanted blood for what Jaskier had suffered.

“Dead,” Lambert’s Cat answered- and when did Lambert find a Cat?

Whatever the case, Aiden had helped save Jaskier. So Geralt owed him.

“We were going to ask him questions tonight, but then you showed up and he got fucking scared.”

…Fuck.

This was his fault.

Of course he wasn’t allowed near Jaskier when he was asleep. The others didn’t trust him around Jaskier, and right then he wasn’t sure he trusted himself around the bard either.

Because Jaskier was scared of him.

Because his bard had fled from him, faster than he’d seen children run from his presence.

He needed to fix this.

He’d known, ever since he got down to Roach and found all Jaskier’s things gone, that he would have to figure out something to do to make this up to the bard, but he’d thought Jaskier needed space, and Ciri had been in danger, and…

Fuck.

…This had been done to get to him.

Jaskier had been hurt, to try and draw Geralt out.

Was he taken before or after Cintra fell, and Geralt became Ciri’s protector?

Was this revenge against him? Or someone hunting her?

He stopped by Ciri’s room to see how she was settling in, but she was staring out the window, humming an old Cintran song, so he left her to it.

His room was next to hers, so he stopped there, lying down on the bed and staring up at the familiar stone walls.

Winter was the time when he got to come home. Rest. Live without having to protect anyone, or keep things in line…

But he hadn’t been there to protect Jaskier this past year.

And now how much worse was everything because Geralt hadn’t protected him? Because Geralt had pushed him away?

Now he was protecting Ciri.

Now he had to fix things with Jaskier.

…Was there a way to fix this?

Jaskier should have been with him. He should have been safe. But because Geralt had pushed him away on that mountain, had yelled at him in a moment of anger, Jaskier had been hurt.

Because of Geralt.

The one thing Geralt had been trying to avoid the whole time he’d known the bard. Keeping his distance, keeping the bard at arm’s length so no one would suspect the mutant of caring for someone.

He’d always thought Jaskier would be better off for it.

And then a few careless words, and he’d burned his ties to the one person in the world that saw something more than a mutant.

The others blamed him, he knew. And they were right to.

He’d failed.

…He needed to make this right.

Damnit Jaskier, you’re supposed to be smarter than this!

He was on Roach, riding down the trail, keeping his ears pealed for Jaskier’s heartbeat.

They’d all split off in different directions, each taking a different path from where Jaskier’s footprints had disappeared into the flurries of snow.

Someone had to find him. The killer was dangerous for humans during good weather. During a blizzard?

He still couldn’t get the smell out of his head.

Jaskier’s fear was acidic and strong, and Geralt was supposed to be the one stopping him from being afraid, not causing it!

And the bruising around his eye, the scent of pain, the letter.

He needed to talk to Jaskier. Needed to make this right, but he couldn’t do that if Jaskier died in a blizzard!

A blast of igni in the distance.

Someone had found Jaskier.

He rode towards it, Roach irate beneath him. He’d need to take care of her after this, but right now he needed to make sure Jaskier survived this.

This was Jaskier. He survived insane, impossible things every day, that should have killed him, but he kept going.

When had Geralt started assuming that Jaskier would never stop surviving everything?

A second blast of igni, this one significantly stronger, and from the direction of the keep.

Jaskier was back at Kaer Morhen.

Geralt urged Roach back, barely taking time to get her back to the stables before he was charging ahead, the doors slamming open as he ran back into the keep, following the heartbeats.

Several of them, all clustered together. That had to be everyone else.

He ran down the stairs, desperate to see what state Jaskier was in, and the hot springs were barely in sight when-

“Hey pretty boy,” Lambert growled, and Geralt didn’t have time to tense before Lambert’s fist collided with the side of his face and he hit the ground.

“What the fuck Lambert?!” Geralt didn’t bother standing up, just glancing between Lambert and Jaskier, who was staring at them, his blue eyes dazed, and skin far too pale.

Lambert was angry, not just in a bad mood but furious. “What the fuck? What the fuck were you thinking treating your fucking bard like that, eh? Or do I have to remind you how many times he’s saved your ass?!”

…Lambert knew. About the careless words on the mountain.

“Lambert-“

Lambert shook his head, not letting him get a word in edgewise. “I’ve put up with a lot of stupidity from you, White Wolf, but don’t act like he hasn’t saved all our lives since he started writing about us! Whatever else he may be, he’s your fucking friend and you can’t even be bothered to be nice to him?! You always tell me to be better than that so what the fuck’s your problem, eh?!” Lambert shook his head. “You wanted life to take him off your hands?! Fine, we’ll take care of him then! At least then someone’ll be looking out for the best fucking thing to ever happen to Witchers!”

“We will?” Eskel asked.

Aiden glanced down at Jaskier, who looked stunned. “That alright with you, lark?”

Jaskier just nodded, dazed.

Vesemir cleared his throat. “…you said what?” he asked, and Geralt swallowed.

It had been a very long time since he’d heard that tone.

He pushed himself up to his knees, well aware of Jaskier’s eyes on him. “…I’m sorry, Jaskier,” he managed, and Lambert scoffed, but Jaskier didn’t look away. “I… am still searching for the words, to say this properly. But you should know… I didn’t mean a word of what I said that day.”

Jaskier didn’t say anything, and after a moment Vesemir spoke again.

“Eskel, get Jaskier into the water. Axii him if need be, the heat may be painful if the frostbite’s set in.” Eskel nodded, lifting Jaskier into his arms and-

Geralt finally saw the injuries Jaskier had sustained.

Jaskier had always been vain, fussing over every cut and scratch and applying creams so they wouldn’t scar, sharing them with Geralt at every chance. Not only did Geralt know every scar on Jaskier’s body and where they’d come from, but he also knew who Jaskier blamed for each of them.

He no longer recognized the scars.

Jaskier was covered in wounds, old and new. Some cuts, some burns, some bruises, but each painted a vicious picture of the torture Jaskier had lived.

And how long he’d been there.

Vesemir stepped between them. “Geralt,” he said calmly, and Geralt finally met his eyes. There was anger, and disappointment, and Geralt knew this wouldn’t be the last of this conversation. “Go tend your daughter, explain what you can to her. Someone will keep you informed on Jaskier’s condition.”

Geralt nodded, standing up even as Lambert glared at him.

It was clear he wasn’t allowed near Jaskier anymore.

And if being near him is what led Jaskier to try to face a blizzard, just to get away? Maybe it was for the best Geralt was removed from him.

He found Ciri with her nose buried firmly in a book, and almost smiled.

She squeaked as he knocked on the door, and slammed the book shut. “I knew you were there!” she lied, shoving the book under a pillow.

Geralt smiled properly then, taking a seat on the couch next to her, not saying anything.

After a few minutes, she spoke again. “…What happened?”

Ah, what to tell her… “Jaskier tried to brave the blizzard. Scared us all. He’s back, but he got a bit frozen.” He sighed as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t leave the keep without telling us. Especially not in a blizzard.”

She snorted. “Obviously.” She frowned, peering at him. “…Jaskier’s the one that ran from the room when we came in, right?”

Geralt nodded. “He and I know each other. Last time I saw him… I said things I shouldn’t have. Things that hurt him.”

“And now he’s scared of being hurt again.”

Geralt thought back to the horrible fear in Jaskier’s scent. “…Apparently,” he finally managed.

“Then you need to show him you won’t hurt him again,” she said simply.

He sighed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Because adults make things complicated.”

Geralt chuckled. “That we do.”

“…I’ve heard of him. Jaskier’s the famous bard, isn’t he?” When Geralt nodded, Ciri continued. “Sometimes, when Grandma fucked up a lot, she’d have to do more than just say ‘sorry’. She’d have to do something for Grandpa Eist.”

“They were married. Jaskier’s just a friend.”

Ciri wrinkled her nose at that. “…Jaskier’s the one that wrote ‘toss a coin’ isn’t he? Anyway, the rules still apply: sometimes you have to do something, like…” she thought. “…None of these examples work. Ah… oh! You could learn one of his songs! Bards are really vain, and like it when you sing their songs to them.”

“I think if I tried to sing to him, he’d run back out into the blizzard.” He sighed. “No, I’m afraid this problem has to be solved with words. It was caused by them, and they’re important to Jaskier. I… just don’t want to say the wrong ones again.”

“You could always write them down first to make sure they’re right.”

There was an idea.

“Well. You may just be one of the smartest people in the keep.” The smile Ciri gave him was worth it. “…I don’t suppose you’ve found a book on how to apologize in this mess, have you?”

Chapter Text

It was obvious Jaskier wasn’t present with them. He didn’t react to the warmth of the hot springs, and Eskel held him close, ready to cast Axii to take his mind away from the pain if necessary.

“Will he be alright?” Aiden asked, sitting next to the pool of water, ready to run for something if Jaskier needed it.

Eskel looked down at the bard, who was staring at the wall of the hot springs, eyes vacant. “…I have to hope so.”

The room was quiet for a while as Eskel held Jaskier close in the pool, making sure his head stayed above water.

“…I never knew the White Wolf could be such an ass,” Aiden commented, and Eskel sighed.

“He’s never been good with his words, or his emotions. Still, he usually knows better than to go for someone’s weak spots. He’s painfully good at finding them, but he usually keeps that to himself.”

“…So Jaskier’s weak spot is being abandoned? I suppose that makes sense, bards do tend to thrive off performances, so validation is only the next step in that.”

Eskel shifted his arms so he could brush away some of the hair from Jaskier’s face, ignoring how naked they both were. “I’ve not had much experience with bards, except from afar. But are they always this…” he searched in his mind for the right word, before giving up. “…trusting?”

Aiden snorted. “As if I would know what you don’t. Bards don’t like Witchers usually. I don’t know what his deal is.”

He’d slowly stopped shivering, and was now laying in Eskel’s arms, his eyes drifting closed as he slowly blinked.

“You can sleep,” Eskel whispered softly, hoping Jaskier would hear him. “We’ll make sure you’re alright. Just get some rest.”

After a few more minutes, Jaskier’s eyes closed, and didn’t open again, his heartbeat steadying out.

Aiden stared down at him, his head slightly tilted. “…Are bards usually this pretty?”

Eskel just shrugged. “Again, I haven’t had much experience with them.”

Eskel stayed with Jaskier after getting him back to his room, figuring that his Somne was the strongest and would help the most in case of more nightmares.

He glanced at the table next to Jaskier’s bed, smiling a bit as he saw the bookmark in the poetry book. At least Jaskier was getting some use from it. Eskel had read many parts of that book himself while recovering, trying to feel something of what humans experienced.

He frowned as he remembered Jaskier’s lute. Eskel had asked about it, but Lambert had explained they were still trying to fix it. Apparently parts of the wood had been burned when they retrieved it, and they were still trying to see if it was salvageable. Eskel didn’t want to be the one to tell Jaskier his precious lute had been damaged, but he had a feeling the responsibility would fall to him anyway.

…But he’d still left the keep without it. Had he even thought of it?

It was important to him, not only as sentiment but as the means by which he made a living. Why would he give that up? Unless…

He frowned, gently reaching over and turning over Jaskier’s hand in his sleep, drawing in a sharp breath.

The tips of Jaskier’s fingers were badly burned. There was no way for him to play like this.

It was clear Vesemir had been applying a burn cream to it, so hopefully the injuries would heal, but for the moment he wouldn’t be able to hold his lute.

…He was struggling far more than he let on. The torture he’d lived through was designed to keep him broken, far past when he was rescued. So what could Eskel do? How could he help?

Casting Somne every time a nightmare showed up wasn’t a practical solution. Somne wouldn’t last forever, and that only stopped the nightmares, it wouldn’t stop the fear when he finally woke up.

“Caught in your own head again?” Lambert asked from the door, and Eskel glanced over sharply.

“And how long have you been watching me?”

“Long enough to know that you’ve worked yourself into a mess,” Lambert answered easily enough. “…We’ve got to fix Geralt’s mess this time.”

“He’s certainly not going to do it,” Eskel agreed. “…Still. He did apologize.”

“And acknowledged that it wasn’t enough,” Lambert added. “He’s got work to do, but he’s not trying to run from it this time.”

“…He really cares.”

“Was that ever in doubt?” Lambert took a seat on the floor, next to the fireplace. “…I still kind of want to punch the bastard again.”

“Lambert,” Eskel cautioned, and Lambert rolled his eyes.

“Want to. I won’t unless he fucks up again. Which, let’s be honest, he’s going to.”

Eskel sighed, pinching his nose. “I know. I know he will. But technically first swinging rights go to Jaskier.”

“…I could teach him how to punch?” Lambert offered.

Jaskier started shaking, whimpering in his sleep, and Eskel quickly cast Somne again. “You’re safe, you can’t be hurt, you’re somewhere pleasant that makes you happy.”

Jaskier calmed down, and Eskel released the sign before sighing. “…Let him recover first. Right now I think if he tried to throw a punch he’d hurt himself more than he’d hurt Geralt.”

“I’m pretty sure even at full health he’d still hurt himself worse.” Eskel reached over and flicked Lambert’s shoulder, even as Lambert shoved him off.

“Be nice. As you said yourself, he’s saved all our asses with those songs of his.”

“…Do you think he’ll play again?” Eskel glared, but Lambert kept going. “Don’t give me an empty fucking saying, I was there, I saw what shape he was in when we got him out. Do you think there’s a chance he’ll ever play again, or did he lose that because of us?”

Eskel shifted in his seat. “…I think his hands will recover, eventually. Whether or not he plays again will have a lot more to do with whether he heals past wanting to travel down a mountain in a blizzard.”

Lambert grimaced. “That’s a type of healing we’ve got no experience in.”

Vesemir took over from Eskel as the sun began to set, and he ended up down in the cellars, grabbing a bottle of White Gull before heading up to his room with it.

He poured himself a glass, setting the rest of the bottle on a high shelf, and slowly drinking the glass, savoring the burn. A solid reminder that he was home, regardless of the chaos that his life had been thrown into.

His journals from past years stared at him, but he didn’t want to think about the past at this point. There was so much to think about just since coming home. Usually he tried to avoid jealousy, but…

Lambert had a Cat, now.

Geralt, as much as he was fucking it up, had a bard and a daughter.

Even Vesemir had his summer lover he never talked about, but they could all smell. Another Witcher that kept him company when the rest of them weren’t there.

Eskel leaned back, thinking about his own failed attempts at finding love over the years.

He didn’t want to be jealous.

But the jealousy didn’t seem to care what he wanted.

He downed the rest of his white gull and stood up, stretching before he shed his clothes, and got into bed.

He hated how much it hurt. How everything ached, and his mind drifted to thoughts of what it was like, all those years ago, falling asleep next to someone. Sharing their heat. Talking quietly about their fears of the trials, and everything that came with.

…Was he jealous of the others? Or jealous of their lovers?

Either way, it wasn’t helpful, and Eskel shook the thought from his head, trying to get to sleep. Jealousy wasn't going to help anyone right now. 

Chapter Text

He’d woken up in a lot of unfamiliar places of the last few months. Strangers’ beds, alleys, the cot in that back room, the bed in Kaer Morhen…

He’d never woken up feeling like he was buried under a wall of heat.

Cracking his eyes open, he looked around, finding that he was buried under a pile of blankets and furs, with Lambert sitting next to him.

“Come on, I know you’re awake,” Lambert sighed.

Jaskier squirmed for a moment, then gave up. “I’m stuck.”

“What?”

“Humans aren’t meant to move this much,” Jaskier complained, squirming again and failing to even roll onto his side.

Lambert stood up, tugging blankets off of Jaskier until Jaskier could sit up on his own, only to wrap the blankets around him from behind.

“Is that really necessary?” Jaskier complained, cocooned in blankets.

“Was it necessary to go trudging down the mountain without a coat, and without telling any of us?”

Jaskier ducked his head, heart spiking painfully. “…Why did you save me?” he finally asked.

Lambert stared at him for several moments, not saying anything, before he muttered a string of curses and sat down next to Jaskier, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and tugging him into a side hug. “You matter, you dumbass,” he growled. “No matter what bullshit Geralt said.”

That plucked at something in the back of Jaskier’s mind. “Did you… hit Geralt?”

Lambert grinned. “Fuck yeah I did. Need me to do it again?”

Jaskier shook his head. “No, not really.”

“…Struggling to remember that?” Lambert asked, and Jaskier nodded. “Do you remember the part where Geralt apologized?”

“He did what?”

“Oh we’ve got to get you working through your amnesia because you are missing some quality material.”

Jaskier stared at him. “He… but why?”

The sigh Lambert gave him could have been directly from his music professor’s lecture halls. “Because he cares about you. Dumbass. He’s been an asshole and we’re all on your side of this, but all of us can see how much he cares about you. Have for years now.”

Geralt… cared. About him.

He didn’t believe it.

The thought of seeing him still made him want to run away and hide.

“…Do I have to talk to him?”

Lambert shook his head. “Bastard’s got no right to your time. He fucked that up. Like I said earlier, if you never want to see him the whole winter, I’ll stick next to you and make sure he leaves you alone. I can bring you food in this room if you want.”

Was that what he wanted? To hide away and never see Geralt again?

“…I’m tired,” he admitted, his shoulders slumping as he let himself relax against Lambert’s shoulder. “Tired of running, and fighting, and trying to stay strong…”

“Well congratulations,” Lambert muttered, “we’re all tired here. That’s what winter’s about. Healing after the pain of the path. So take your time, and tell us what you need, and we’ll see what we can do for you. Alright? You matter to us.”

“…Why?”

Lambert looked down at him, and tilted his head. “Why do you matter to us?” When Jaskier nodded, Lambert sighed again, ruffling his hair. “Geralt has a lot to answer for… you matter to us, because in a history of shit and blood and piss-poor attitudes from people, you decided to care about us. To write songs about us. And yeah, we might not know you very well, but we’d like the chance to get to. Geralt kept you from us for long enough. If you’re not listening to him anymore, then neither are we.”

…His songs. Made a difference.

That was damn good to hear.

He took another nap, but by that afternoon was up to going downstairs again. Eskel was the one to help him down this time, a wall of heat against his side as he leaned on him, careful not to move too quickly.

“How the fuck did I get so far in the blizzard?” he wondered as he stumbled for the fourth time, only for Eskel to catch him.

“Your body stopped telling you that you were cold?” Eskel guessed. “To a certain extent cold can help with pain, but it usually does more harm than good in the long run.”

They made it back down to the main hall, and Jaskier sagged onto a bench, letting his head fall to the table as he just sat there for several moments, only perking up when Eskel placed a bowl of stew in front of him.

“Eat, you need your strength.”

Jaskier slowly sat up, digging into the food even as his body wanted to collapse against the table and never move again. It was a good stew though, he had to admit. Vesemir’s cooking was excellent, and Jaskier dreaded the day he had to go back to trail rations and unseasoned tavern food. His tastes as a viscount were spoiled, and he’d spent a long time making himself get used to bad food. This entire experience was going to ruin that for him all over again.

All too soon the food was gone, and Jaskier let his head fall back onto the table.

“Someone’s up and about,” Aiden commented as he entered from the direction of the stairs, and Jaskier raised his arm only for it to flop back down again. “Or… up, ish? You look like you got trampled by a selkimore.”

“Ah yes, just what my reputation needs, selkimore trouble,” Jaskier mumbled into the wood.

“You have a reputation?” Eskel asked. “Is it in the room with us?”

Jaskier somehow found the energy to flip Eskel off, even as they both chuckled. “I’ll have you know, my reputation as both a fine poet and bard, and an excellent lover, were well crafted and are difficult to maintain.” Something flashed across Eskel’s face, and Jaskier sat up a bit. “What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Eskel tried to brush off, but Jaskier wasn’t having it.

“No, it’s not nothing, tell me what’s wrong.”

Eskel cleared his throat, frowning. “I… it’s none of my business, but… I’m just surprised. That you’re still talking about being a lover, after… everything.”

Oh.

The rape.

He’d forgotten they knew about that. “…What they did to me wasn’t love, so I’m not counting it,” he finally said. “My heart, my soul, my love, those are all mine to give. Not something for them to take from me. They have no right to claim it, and they won’t take my ability to enjoy it, either.”

“Brave words, but it might prove easier said than acted on,” Aiden pointed out. “Still, I admire your courage. And I look forward to hearing many tales about your time as one of the finest lovers the continent has ever known.”

“One of?” Jaskier asked, desperate for a change in conversation.

Aiden grinned. “You are, in fact, in the presence of one of the other finest lovers.”

“Oh is that how it is?” Jaskier asked, chuckling. “We shall have to compare stories. Who knows, maybe some of them could be turned into ballads-“

Eskel sat up suddenly, frowning. “Jaskier, do you want to head back to your room?”

Jaskier blinked, surprised, but then sighed. “…Geralt’s coming this way, isn’t he?”

“You can still avoid him if you want to.”

He thought about it, but then shook his head. “No. No, whatever he wants to say he can say to my face. I tried to give him his damn wish and apparently destiny had other ideas, so whatever happens, it happens, and I’m not going to run from it anymore.”

“We’re here with you,” Aiden whispered, giving Jaskier’s hand a squeeze, and then Jaskier could hear Geralt making his way down the steps.

He was as silent as the grave when he wanted to be. He was giving Jaskier warning that he was coming.

He stepped through the doors to the main hall, a piece of paper clutched in his hand, and Jaskier stood up, gripping the table for support.

“…Geralt,” he greeted coldly.

“Jaskier,” Geralt whispered, then cleared his throat. “…Can we talk?”

Chapter Text

Jaskier didn’t say anything, instead just waiting for Geralt to speak. “I… I’m sorry.” Jaskier stayed quiet. “I let my anger take control. Let it guide me, and I… hurt you. I know I did. There’s nothing I can say that can make that right.”

Geralt’s eyes kept glancing down at the paper, and Jaskier wondered if he’d written the words out, in an attempt to get them right.

“Jaskier… you are important to me. You always have been. I blamed things on you that were my fault, and I shouldn’t have done that. You… are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And I’m sorry I hurt you… and I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from being hurt.”

Jaskier kept a grip on the table, turning to glance at Eskel.

Eskel shrugged. “It’s not the best, but it’s the best apology I’ve ever heard him give anyone.”

That’s what he thought too.

“…Them taking me wasn’t your fault,” Jaskier whispered, the first words he’d spoken to Geralt in a long time. “But the rest of it? You left me, Geralt, on a mountain. After years of having to put up with the bare minimum from you, and now- now you expect me to believe that I matter to you?!”

He was shaking, his hand clenched on the table as he tried not to stumble.

“Jaskier-“

“No, no I listened to you so now it’s your turn to fucking listen. I know words aren’t your strength and I know that you struggle to express yourself but you weren’t exactly reticent on that damn mountain so you’re going to need to give me a little more to work with before I believe that you fucking care. You’re sorry. That I understand perfectly. I’m sorry for a lot of things over the past several years of my life that I’ve spent following you around- yes my life, Geralt, I’m human and I’ve spent over twenty years of my life by your side so I fucking know you, better than I know anyone on this damn continent and you fucking left-“ his knees buckled, but before he could hit the floor Geralt was there, arms wrapped around him, and he broke.

Jaskier couldn’t hold back the sobs anymore, fingers clinging to Geralt’s shirt as he heard the others standing up, ready to help, but he couldn’t let go.

“You- you are my life, Geralt,” he gasped, shaking as he sobbed. “Traveling the path with you was all I fucking had, and you took that from me, because a witch broke up with you.”

“I’m sorry,” Geralt whispered, his arms holding him far closer than they had the whole time Jaskier had known him. “Jaskier, I’m so sorry. I’m never leaving your side again.”

“I can’t believe that,” Jaskier managed. "Not after everything. I can't believe you."

“Then let me prove it to you?” he asked. "Give me a chance to prove how much you mean to me?"

Jaskier swallowed, still shaking as tears fell, but after a few moments he nodded. "One. Only one more," he whispered. 

"It's more than I thought I'd get," Geralt whispered, and then he was helping Jaskier stand up, one arm around his back as he led him back to the table, sitting him down on the bench as Jaskier tried to get his tears under control.

Aiden sat down again next to him, offering him a handkerchief.

“So… are you two… alright now?” he asked, and Jaskier swallowed, glancing at Geralt.

Noting the way Geralt was hovering, face nearly unreadable, except for the tension in his shoulders. The lines of worry in his brow that had taken Jaskier years to learn, the way Geralt was clenching his hand, as if he was holding himself back from grasping Jaskier's hand like he used to when Jaskier was injured.

All the things that made his heart ache.

Jaskier turned back to Aiden. “I think… we will be.”

There was movement on the stairs, and then Vesemir, Lambert and Ciri all came down, and Jaskier realized they’d been there the whole time, just waiting for that to be over so they didn’t interrupt.

He let Eskel get him another bowl of stew as the others sat down, and Geralt stayed close by, a quiet comfort.

Fuck, it had been a while since he’d broken down like that. Not since the first day-

Nope.

He focused instead on the conversation, even as Geralt frowned at him.

He shook his head.

Instead, he listened as Lambert described some kind of explosive device to Ciri, before he blinked and realized the conversation had shifted while he wasn’t listening.

“…Can I help you to your room?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier pulled in a sharp breath, before hesitantly nodded.

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

Geralt helped him up, then wrapped an arm around his side, supporting him easily. “…I’m going to try. To be better about this. The talking part.”

“That’s all I can ask of you.” Jaskier smiled as they walked up the stairs, letting one of the pains in his chest ease.

It wouldn’t be easy. But he might just live through this.

“It’s good they’ve talked things out,” Eskel commented. “…Even if I’m not looking forward to hearing them go at it.”

“Go at what?” Ciri asked, and the others shook their heads.

“Some things you’ll learn when you’re older,” Vesemir said, standing up and leaving the room.

Ciri blinked, staring after him, before turning back to the others. “…Is this a sex thing?” she asked, and they all nodded. “But they’re not a couple.”

“Oh they are,” Lambert insisted. “Or, were, before all of this. And now that they’ve fixed it, it’s only a matter of time before they’re fucking again.”

“No, I mean they weren’t a couple before,” Ciri repeated, and Eskel leaned forward.

“What do you mean?”

“I talked to Geralt about his apology yesterday, and he said that he and Jaskier were just friends.”

They stared at each other.

Then Lambert swore.

“What?” Aiden asked.

“When I found Jaskier in the blizzard- I’d forgotten in everything else- he said he didn’t even know Geralt was into men.”

Eskel blinked. “That’s… not possible. No- Geralt’s been obvious about his feelings towards Jaskier- worse than you were about Aiden!”

“Oh?” Aiden asked, grinning at Lambert who just flipped him off.

“No but- they both care about each other. I mean- we all heard it, Jaskier said Geralt was his life.”

They stared at each other, before Ciri nodded. “Right. We need to get involved.”

“Not a good idea,” Aiden insisted. “Let them figure it out on their own, best not to get involved.”

Eskel however wasn’t certain. “…Geralt is the most emotionally repressed person on the continent. And I don’t particularly want to spend the winter watching them eyefuck each other from across the room without ever acknowledging they’re anything more than friends.”

“Gross, but you’re right,” Ciri added. “He was all gloomy on the way up here, and I think it was because of Jaskier.”

Lambert sat back, a wicked grin on his face. “If Geralt won’t acknowledge how he feels about Jaskier… then we should show him.”

“How?” Eskel asked.

“If he won’t flirt with the bard… we can. Make him jealous of us, make him finally act on his feelings.”

Eskel stared at him. “That’s a horrible plan.”

“Actually,” Aiden tilted his head, considering it. “I think a part of what got him to apologize was realizing we were trusted to care for Jaskier when he wasn’t. Jealousy may be the thing we need to get these two to communicate. Make Geralt see what he’s missing. Make Jaskier realize he wants it to be Geralt flirting with him-“

“Oh no he knows,” Lambert insisted. “Bard’s head over heals for Geralt. That’s why it hurt him so fucking much. He can’t possibly be that blind.”

“You’d be surprised,” Ciri added, “but I haven’t talked to him so I can’t say one way or the other.”

They all stared at each other. “Are we… actually going to do this?” Eskel asked. “Flirt with Jaskier to make Geralt jealous? That’s seriously our only plan?”

“Got a better way to spend the winter?” Lambert asked.

“Besides,” Aiden added with a grin, “he’s kind of cute. I want to see him blush, even if the White Wolf’s the one he wants.”

Eskel shook his head. “…This is going to go so horribly. What the hell. I’m in. When do we start?”

Chapter Text

Flirting would, unfortunately, have to wait.

Instead, Aiden found himself sitting in Jaskier’s room next to Geralt as the bard slept.

“…He’s going to be alright,” Geralt said softly, as if convincing himself. “With everything he’s been through… he has to be.”

“He’s a fighter,” Aiden agreed. “…Twenty years, eh?”

Geralt nodded. “First met him in Posada. A reckless bard with no idea how to take care of himself, or that he shouldn’t be following around a Witcher. He didn’t care. Just trailed along after me, never silent for a moment…” Geralt sighed. “…This last year has been the quietest in twenty years. And I hated it.”

Oh, he was so gone on his bard. How did he not see it?

“How many of his songs are about you?”

“How many aren’t?” Geralt countered. “He wrote ‘toss a coin’ the first day he met me. I’m not sure he ever stopped writing about me.”

“…Unless one of the songs he wrote this past year wasn’t,” Aiden pointed out, then shook his head. “No, what am I saying. Twenty years writing about the same man, he wouldn’t stop writing about you suddenly, would he?”

Geralt shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “…I don’t know.”

“No, no it takes a lot longer than a year to stop writing about someone you’ve spent twenty years trailing after. Just makes me wonder what type of songs he’s written.”

Geralt didn’t say anything, instead crossing his arms and letting out a ‘hmmm.’

“If he’s been as angry as he was in the hall, I wonder if he wrote any breakup songs.”

“…He was working on a piece, before we split,” Geralt finally said. “I think it was about Yennefer.”

Aiden blinked. “Yennefer?”

“The sorceress. Jaskier’s always hated her, and she’s never had much love for him.”

Well this was information. “He mentioned a witch… that you broke up with…”

“She broke up with me,” Geralt corrected. “That’s… what started the mess.”

Aiden waited, but Geralt didn’t continue.

Fuck, getting him to talk was like pulling teeth. Or getting Lambert to sit still so Aiden could sew up an injury.

After a few minutes, the scent of fear started to grow, and Jaskier began to whimper.

Immediately Geralt was casting Somne. “You’re safe, Jask,” he spoke softly, and Aiden could hear how much he cared. It soaked into his words as he gently brushed his thumb over Jaskier’s temple. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

The scent eased rapidly, and Jaskier calmed down. “…He really trusts you,” Aiden commented after Geralt released the sign.

“…He shouldn’t.” Geralt leaned back in his chair, and crossed his arms again. “If I’d stayed with him, he never would have been hurt in the first place.”

Lambert was in the labs when Aiden found him, and he wrapped his arms around his Wolf, tucking his head over his shoulder as Lambert chuckled, reaching up and ruffling his hair. “Can I help you, kitty?”

“Mmm,” Aiden purred, squeezing Lambert tighter, “maybe later. After dinner. We could help each other then. Bur for right now I just want to hold you.”

“Before I met you I never would have believed Cats could be so clingy.”

“And now?”

Lambert chuckled, turning around in Aiden’s grip so he could hug him tight. “Now I don’t ever want to let you go.”

“Then don’t.” Lambert rested his head on Aiden’s shoulder, and Aiden sighed. “…But?”

“We are both incredibly jealous. Are you sure it won’t bother you to see me flirting with Jaskier?”

Aiden thought about it, then shook his head. “Honestly I don’t think it would bother me to see you flirting with anyone in the keep.”

“Really?” Lambert pulled back a bit, staring at Aiden in confusion.

“Do you know what I worry about, when I see others trying to flirt with you?” he asked, and Lambert shook his head. “There’s two things. I worry, that they might try to take you away from me,” he counted on his fingers, “and I worry they might try to hurt you. I don’t have to worry about either of those things here.”

Lambert relaxed. “Don’t have to ever worry about someone taking me away from you, kitty. I’m yours, till you’re sick and tired of me.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

Lambert grinned, then lifted a hand to cup Aiden’s cheek, pulling him into a gentle kiss.

The kiss grew heated as Aiden backed him up against the table, kissing him deeper and deeper with each press, till their tongues were tangling and Lambert’s hand was gripping Aiden’s hair as Aiden bent him over the table, shoving ingredients out of their way.

“What happened to after dinner?” Lambert asked when they finally broke apart, and Aiden chuckled.

“Maybe I want to eat you up for dinner,” he grinned. “Unless you’ve got a problem with the others smelling me on you?”

“None whatsoever,” Lambert promised, tugging Aiden back into a kiss.

They quickly fumbled with their pants, shoving them down without breaking their kiss as they got more frantic with their movements.

Once their pants were off Aiden was lifting Lambert up, setting him properly on the table before reaching for a vial.

“Not that one,” Lambert broke their kiss to say. “Nasty side effects. Not good for fucking. Here.”

He reached back, tugging a different vial off the shelf, and Aiden chuckled. “This is not normal oil.”

“No, but it feels damn good for fucking.”

Aiden plucked the vial from Lambert’s fingers, uncorking it and spilling some over his fingers. “Is it supposed to tingle?”

Lambert grinned. “Oh yeah. If you like it I’ll bring some with us on the path.”

“Well then, let’s see if I enjoy it,” Aiden whispered against Lambert’s lips before kissing him again, and then pushing him down onto the table, gently rubbing the strange oil into Lambert’s skin, before sliding one finger inside him.

Lambert pulled in a sharp breath, squeezing down on Aiden’s finger as he groaned. “Come on, you know me better kitty, make me fucking feel it-“ Aiden chuckled, quickly sliding a second finger in, fucking Lambert on them.

“Always best to go slow when you don’t know what you’re working with,” Aiden pointed out. “But you’re right, you feel amazing around my fingers.” He slid another finger in and Lambert groaned, letting his head fall back.

“Fuck, stop teasing me and get to fucking me already!” Lambert snipped, and Aiden chuckled, giving a few more thrusts before pulling out, pouring some of the unknown oil into his hand and sliding it on his cock, gasping as the tingling spread there too. Lambert, the bastard, laughed. “Yeah, it’ll do that. Don’t worry, it washes off with water.”

“It better,” Aiden commented, pressing his cock against Lambert’s entrance. “I don’t plan to cum in my pants just for some magic oil.”

“It’s not magic, it’s-“ Lambert cut off as Aiden slid in, the both of them groaning.

Lambert reached up, grabbing Aiden’s shoulder with one hand, and the edge of the table with the other as he wrapped his legs around Aiden.

“You were saying?” Aiden asked, grinning.

“Fuck me or fuck off,” Lambert growled, and Aiden chuckled, leaning down and kissing Lambert again, teeth nipping against his lips as Aiden enjoyed the tight heat of Lambert, the oil soothing the way and leaving his entire body tingling.

“If you insist,” Aiden muttered against his lips, before grabbing Lambert’s hips, fucking into him as Lambert groaned.

Fucking Lambert was addicting, as it always had been, magic oil or no. His lover never stopped talking, but fucking into him, fucking sounds out of his mouth, it was always a delight to see which languages Lambert would start swearing in.

Today it was Zerrikanian, Lambert’s clever tongue rambling curses as he squeezed tight around Aiden, pulling him closer as Aiden lost himself in his lover.

He leaned down, kissing Lambert’s neck, delighted when Lambert stuttered over a word as Aiden scraped his teeth over Lambert’s neck, pulling more groans and whimpers from Lambert than actual words.

Already he was close, body singing as he fucked Lambert against the table. He hastily grabbed the vial again, spilling some more oil onto his hand and wrapping it around Lambert’s cock, jacking him off in time with his thrusts before they both peaked, Lambert spilling between them as Aiden spilled inside of him.

They lay there, panting after the fact, lost in the peace of each other’s arms for a few blissful moments.

“…This is a very solid table,” Aiden commented, and Lambert laughed.

“You have no idea how many people have been fucked on this table,” he promised. “Come on, let’s get down to the hot springs. Otherwise they’ll mock us all winter.”

Chapter Text

Eskel was the first one down to dinner that night, helping Vesemir carry food to the table, and not too long after Ciri was down, a new braid in her hair.

“That looks nice,” Eskel commented. “Did you do it yourself?”

She shook her head. “Vesemir helped me with it,” she smiled at the older Witcher. “Said he can teach me some other braids that’re good on the path.”

Eskel nodded, even as Aiden and Lambert entered the hall from the direction of the hot springs. “He taught us how to braid our hair, though usually we just tie it back these days.”

“Easier to maintain,” Lambert agreed, sitting down across from them. “But being able to braid’s important. ‘Specially if you want to impress a woman.”

“Or a man with long hair,” Aiden added, wrapping an arm around Lambert. “I still remember when you braided my hair out of my face when my arm was banged up from that rock troll.”

Lambert stared at him. “You knew I was flirting with you?”

Eskel tried to hide his smirk as Aiden and Lambert stared at each other.

“…Of course I knew. Lamb, you are many things, but subtle isn’t one of them.”

“Then why the fuck didn’t you do anything about it-“

They all looked up as they heard a screech from the top of the stairs, and then Jaskier’s voice.

“Geralt- Geralt! Set me down you ass- what do you think you’re doing?!”

Eskel and Lambert glanced at each other, worried, but then there were steps, even as Jaskier’s irritated voice continued protesting. “I can walk, do you have any idea how insulting this is- honestly, you haven’t changed a damn bit-“

Before long, Geralt was down the stairs, Jaskier slung over one shoulder.

“He tripped,” Geralt explained, gently depositing Jaskier onto the bench, pushing him down when he tried to stand up. “Stay here,” he ordered, before grabbing two plates, filling them both up as Lambert sighed where he was next to Jaskier.

“I see he’s just as direct as always,” Lambert commented.

Jaskier snorted. “He’s done that before?”

“Used to be how he carried Lambert, before the mutagen,” Eskel explained. “And the other trainees.”

“It’s efficient,” Geralt insisted, setting a plate of food in front of Jaskier before taking the seat next to him. “You can’t fall if I’m carrying you, and if I’m holding you with one hand I can draw my sword with my other.”

“Except you’re not wearing a sword,” Jaskier pointed out.

“Don’t tell me you objected at the chance to stare at his ass,” Lambert chuckled, and Jaskier blushed, falling silent.

Geralt just shook his head, and Aiden picked up the conversation. “So, Jaskier, I heard there’s to be a competition.”

Jaskier blinked. “What?”

“You were pretty out of it,” Eskel added, “but Lambert made a joke about you and Ciri racing to see who could read the most books this winter.”

“That sounds fun,” Ciri piped up. “I’ve got a head start though.”

At least that made Jaskier chuckle. “Oh, you may have a head start, but I studied at Oxenfurt. I could read two books a day when I got busy.”

“Something tells me I’ll still have the advantage,” Ciri beamed, chaos lurking behind that smile. “I am a princess, after all. And I’m pretty sure I’ll have fewer things to do this winter than you.”

“Oh? And what will I be doing?”

“Actually,” Vesemir cut in, “you’re both going to be too busy to read. Ciri, you’re going to be training starting tomorrow. And Jaskier, once you’re steady on your feet you’ll also begin training. The two of you have been targeted in the last year, and you both need to learn how to defend yourselves. Any reading can be done in the afternoons, when you’re not on the training fields with us.”

Jaskier groaned, but Ciri seemed… determined. Ready to begin, almost.

“Chin up, bard,” Eskel teased, “you’re going to be bedridden for at least another week, so you’ll get a chance to catch up to Ciri.”

“When he’s not asleep,” Lambert chuckled.

Jaskier casually flipped him off, but he was smiling softly, his scent calm.

Hopefully, training would be good for Jaskier. He needed a break.

After dinner Geralt escorted Ciri up to bed, and Lambert pulled out the wine and white gull.

“What is this?” Jaskier wondered, and Lambert shook his head.

“Deadly for humans. Here, you can have the wine. White gull’s the stuff that makes even us drunk.”

Jaskier snagged a bottle faster than Lambert could pull it out of reach, smelling the contents and blanching. “I think I might be able to get drunk off the smell, ” Jaskier remarked, accepting his wine and drinking some from the bottle. “…I have missed wine. Fuck I’ve missed it.” He chuckled. “You know… I’ve never seen Geralt drunk. He doesn’t carry this stuff with him.”

“That is strictly because of you,” Eskel commented, snagging a bottle of the White Gull. “That first year, apparently you were poking around his potions and nearly drank some, so he stopped carrying it with him, too worried you’d drink it and poison yourself.”

“I would nev- alright, yes, that is something I was doing- but I know when alcohol is too strong!”

“Jaskier I’ve seen you pick things up off a mage’s counter and put them in your mouth, just to see what would happen,” Geralt commented as he came downstairs again. “You absolutely would drink White Gull if given the option.” Geralt snagged the last bottle, taking a seat. “Drink your own wine, it’ll help you warm up inside.”

Jaskier snorted, but took another swig of the wine as the others drank.

“So,” Aiden began, after downing a good quarter of his bottle. “Jaskier. The question came up earlier: how many of your songs aren’t about Geralt?”

Jaskier froze, and Geralt glared, but Eskel quickly deflected. “Did you ever write about other Witchers? Or maybe past lovers?”

After a moment, Jaskier recovered. “I haven’t written about other Witchers yet, but I can always start. Why, have you got stories to tell me?”

“We could fill your ears with all kinds of stories,” Lambert grinned, and Geralt groaned.

“The last thing we need this winter is Jaskier getting an idea from you lot, unless you’re planning on traveling with him next. Doesn’t matter who his inspiration is, everyone just assumes the songs are about me, even when they aren’t.”

Jaskier cleared his throat. “Actually… all my songs are about you, Geralt.”

They fell silent, Eskel and Aiden and Lambert exchanging glances. Were they finally going to admit this to themselves? Were they finally going to talk?

Geralt frowned. “…The song you were writing. Before the dragon hunt. That was about Yennefer.”

“…A song can be about more than one person.”

Ah well. So close. But there was no way Geralt was going to understand from that what Jaskier felt about him.

Jaskier took another drink, swallowing and shaking his head. “Alright, that’s enough thinking for one night: what do you do for fun around here? I’ve known Geralt far too long to believe that reading is all he does in the winter.”

Lambert cracked his knuckles. “You are in for a treat, my friend: we play cards and take bets, and then rib each other for stories of the path.”

Jaskier grinned, especially when Aiden pulled out his own cards, and then as Aiden and Eskel began to play, Jaskier started singing.

He was drunk, yes, his words slurring slightly as he sang, but he was having fun, which was more than Eskel had expected to see this soon after everything.

As he played, he glanced at Geralt, finding that the other Witcher was staring intently at Jaskier the whole time as Jaskier tapped the table in time with his song.

It wasn’t the look of someone besotted though. But someone worried. He was staring at Jaskier, but specifically, Jaskier’s hands-

Eskel glanced at them, and had to look away sharply.

Somehow, he’d forgotten just how horrific the torture had been. But seeing the vicious burns on Jaskier’s fingertips, the way Jaskier was tapping with the sides of his fingers instead of the fingertips to avoid pain…

Eskel took another drink of white gull, and did his best to ignore it.

There was nothing he could do to change what Jaskier had lived through. All he could do was help him move forward. 

Chapter Text

Before he took over from Eskel the next morning, Lambert pulled him into the hallway outside Jaskier’s room. “Not to jinx it, but isn’t Jaskier recovering a little too well?”

Eskel groaned, running a hand over his face. “You can see it too. Fuck.” The sun wasn’t even up yet, but Eskel looked exhausted. “He went from trying to escape down the mountain in a blizzard to laughing with us over drinks in a single day- he’s definitely repressing things.”

“Yeah, I figured that, but what do we do?”

“Keep taking away his nightmares, and let him know we’re here?” Eskel shrugged. “This was the last night we could cast Somne without it causing harm, I have a feeling this evening’s going to change a lot of things.”

Lambert grimaced. “I can’t tell if we should make sure he has his space, or make sure Geralt’s with him… or make sure whoever is with him, it’s not Geralt.”

“Ask him later today. For right now, just make sure he doesn’t have any nightmares before the sun rises.”

Lambert nodded, clapping Eskel on the shoulder before stepping inside Jaskier’s room once more.

The bard was lying peacefully in the bed, lips parted softly in his sleep as his chest rose and fell with each breath he took.

Maybe… maybe it was nothing. Maybe he’d be fine. The bard Geralt had always described was made of sterner stuff, maybe this wouldn’t mess with Jaskier’s head too much, and he’d bounce back quickly.

Then the scent of fear spiked, and Jaskier started whimpering in his sleep, tiny sounds of distress escaping his lips before Lambert formed Somne once again. “You’re safe. They’re not real. You’re in a dream.” An idea struck him. “You’re on stage performing, and your rival’s really fucking jealous of how good you’re doing.”

Jaskier relaxed, satisfaction sneaking into his scent, and Lambert sighed.

…He didn’t think anyone in the keep would be sleeping much tomorrow night.

All through breakfast Jaskier smiled and laughed, though he did have to return to his room fairly quickly, still recovering, and Geralt helped him up.

Which was how Lambert found himself sparring against Geralt’s child of surprise. “You can’t just swing it and hope for the best, you’ve got to have a plan,” he pointed out as he tried to spar with her. Vesemir was watching from the sidelines, but he’d wanted to get an idea for her existing skill before he began training her. “You’ve got to avoid getting hit anywhere that’ll take you out of the fight, and the best way to do that is by deflecting the strike, or avoiding it all together.”

Ciri nodded, and Lambert tried a lunge, glad when she blocked his strike- only to do nothing with the opening it provided. Holy fuck had he been this bad when he first started? He suddenly felt bad for the trainers he’d bitten.

“Right, try that again, but when you block the move, you’ve got to hit back.”

“Where?”

“I- anywhere that’ll take your opponent down!”

Which was why, less than a minute later, he was deflecting Ciri’s sword away from his crotch, suddenly thankful that they were practicing with wooden swords. “Okay- that- don’t aim there while training, but that is a good way to end the fight-“

“That’s enough,” Vesemir called, “Ciri, switch with Aiden, you’ll train with Eskel for a minute.”

Eskel cleared his throat, having seen the ending of the last spar, and Ciri crossed over to him as Vesemir nodded for Lambert to stand next to him.

“…You’re good with her,” Vesemir commented.

“Eh, I’m just teaching her some basics, nothing more.”

“Exactly.” Vesemir glanced over at Lambert, eyeing him up and down. “…You’ve grown up, from the sharp tongued young boy who bit before asking questions. You’ve learned patience, if not much. But you’re patient with her. You’re focusing on the basics, and only addressing other things as they come up, and more than that you’re able to control her mistakes.”

Lambert frowned at him. “You’re never this nice unless it’s for a reason.”

“…I want you to train Ciri.”

“The fuck?”

“I’ll step in where needed,” Vesemir continued, before Lambert could get too worked up, “but you’re good with her. Were there still Witchers being trained…” he sighed, shaking his head. “That doesn’t matter. The choice is yours, I won’t push you to do something you’re not ready for, but you should think it over.”

Then Vesemir was gone, off to give instructions to Eskel and Ciri.

…He wasn’t the best swordsman here. Not by a long shot. Not counting Vesemir, he would have assumed that was Geralt-

But. This was Geralt’s kid. Which by default meant he needed to keep his distance. Vesemir had been a father figure, but it was hard going to him with frustrations in training when he was the trainer. Geralt had to be there for the kid, emotionally- gods help them all- so he had to step back from training. At least at the beginning, when it was hardest.

And yeah. Maybe he wasn’t the best at swords. But Vesemir thought he’d be the best to train her.

…That alone made him want to prove the old man right.

Who had said he didn’t want to push Lambert into something he wasn’t ready for. Like Vesemir had been pushed into raising them, after the sacking?

Damnit. Now he had responsibility!

And Aiden was staring at him, grinning, and Lambert scowled. “Okay, come here kitty, let’s spar a round and see if I can’t wipe that fucking grin off your face.”

Geralt was the first to leave the hot springs, heading up to get Jaskier for lunch, and Lambert leaned back in the hot water. “Things are about to get intense around here,” he commented, and Eskel snorted.

“They weren’t already?”

“Well, think about it. How much do you think Geralt’s actually figured out about what Jaskier went through?”

All mirth died.

Ciri cleared her throat. “What… has he gone through?” she asked.

Fuck.

“…Too much,” Lambert finally said.

“Things you shouldn’t have to worry about,” Aiden agreed.

“…People hurt him,” she began slowly. “…Did they rape him?”

Ah fuck.

Eskel was the first one who spoke up. “What do you know about that?”

“…Some of his bruises,” Ciri finally admitted, “the ones around his wrists. They looked like the ones around mine, for a few days after…”

Lambert’s heart dropped, bile clawing its way up his throat. “Who?”

She shook her head. “They didn’t succeed. I… I got scared, and screamed, and…” she stopped, wrapping her hands around her arms. “…They… died. I killed them,” she finally whispered. “…I’m sorry-“

“Don’t-“ Aiden had to clear his throat, turning away and wiping at his eyes for a moment. “Don’t apologize for killing people who would do that. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

“Are you alright?” Eskel asked. “Do you need anything? Do you have any questions? Is there anything we can do to help?”

Ciri shook her head. “No, no… I just… I knew them. I’d grown up around them… I thought… But… without the guards, without being ‘princess Cirilla’, they didn’t care. They were going to hurt me. Turn me over to Nilfgaard…”

“…Despite what others think,” Lambert began, “usually the ones that hurt us the most are people we knew. In some respect or other.” He sighed. “…I can’t promise nothing’ll ever happen again. But I promise I’ll do my damn best to teach you how to cut a man’s dick off if he ever tries shit like that with you.”

“Not that she needs help with that lesson,” Aiden pointed out, trying to bring back some humor to the situation.

Thank fuck it worked, and Ciri chuckled. “My grandmother taught me how to aim there,” she admitted, and they all chuckled.

“It’s a good fucking lesson,” Aiden agreed.

“Should get you some daggers,” Eskel added. “Maybe some that look like other things, so you’ve got the element of surprise. People expect Witchers to carry weapons everywhere, but you’ll probably be underestimated a lot. Use it.”

She nodded, smiling, and some of that horrible smell of fear and grief eased.

…Kaer Morhen was smelling of far too much fear these days.

Chapter Text

“Did you scream for him too, Jaskier?”

Fingers snapped next to his ears.

Flames burned at his skin as that voice just laughed.

He screamed, unable to pull away.

It was dark. So dark. Even the fire never illuminated anything, the light too weak in the oppressive darkness.

Bones shattered beneath boots and he couldn’t breathe, hands tight around his throat.

Someone stood over him, as he bled out on the floor. He couldn’t make them out. Didn’t know any of their faces. But he knew their hands, cruel and calloused as they pinned him down. Had learned to tell them apart by the size of their cocks inside him, and the cruelty of their thrusts.

A hand grabbed his hair, smashing his face against the stone floor as someone laughed, and then the floor was growing hotter and hotter as he struggled against it, screaming as someone laughed-

“Jaskier!”

He thrashed, trying to fight back, shocked when the hand on his shoulder left, and he pushed himself into the corner, gasping for breath as whimpers left his mouth, skin still prickling from heat even as the cold of the stone beneath his fingers nearly froze him.

No one moved.

He blinked a few times, getting used to the light.

There wasn’t light in the room. Not until Aiden-

The fight left him and he sagged, groaning as he remembered where he was.

In Kaer Morhen, in his room, trying to sleep the first night after the Witchers stopped casting Somne. “…Are you sure you can’t cast Somne again?” Jaskier asked, looking up to find that it was Geralt, sitting next to him this time.

Geralt shook his head. “Not for a few days. It could lead to permanent mental scarring.”

“I already have mental scarring,” Jaskier pointed out, grimacing at where his legs were tangled up in the blanket.

“Jaskier- you could lose your ability to think. You might never be able to write again.”

“Oh, good, you think I’ll ever be able to write again. That’s encouraging, at least one of us does.”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked up, about to glare, but stopped.

Geralt didn’t look irritated, despite his tone.

He looked… terrified. “…You were screaming,” Geralt finally spoke. “I couldn’t wake you. You were screaming my name.”

Oh.

He didn’t remember that.

“Well. I’m awake now,” he finally said, unsure what else there was to say. “And given that I don’t think I’ll be getting back to sleep, you don’t have to stick around. You can head back to bed if you’d like, or…” he trailed off, his hands falling uselessly to his lap.

After a moment, Geralt spoke again. “It’s still late at night… do you want to grab a drink?”

Jaskier shrugged. “Are you offering to carry me? Because otherwise-“ he squeaked as Geralt lifted him up, this time holding him in both arms, one around his legs and one around his back, so the blanket stayed with him. “…That works,” he managed, and Geralt tried to smile.

“You objected last time. To how I carried you. You’re right, there’s no threats in Kaer Morhen.”

He was learning.

That was… sweet.

Jaskier sat at a small table in the kitchen, watching Geralt intently. “You know, last time I checked, the process for wine was ‘open a bottle and pour’. Cup not even necessary half the time.”

“Mulled wine,” Geralt corrected as he heated up the drink in a pot. “Some of these spices are for flavor… some for sleep. Calmer dreams. Not half as effective as even Axii, let alone Somne, but hopefully it’ll help a bit.”

He tilted his head, considering Geralt. “Since when have you been so sweet? I’ve never seen this side to you on the path.”

“Kaer Morhen is a place of safety,” Geralt explained. “So, certain things I can’t be on the path, it’s safer to be here.” He finished heating up the drink, pouring it into a cup and passing it to Jaskier. “Be careful, it’s hot.”

“Yes I can feel that,” Jaskier snarked, but he was smiling softly.

He let it sit for a few minutes before sipping at it, relaxing at the sweet earthy taste. “…Have you done this before?” he asked.

“Done what?”

“Added spices to my drink without telling me.”

Geralt snorted, shaking his head. “How could I, you’re the one that carries the damn things.”

“Well excuse me if you’ve got the taste of a goat. I swear, before I met you, you didn’t even add fucking rosemary, even though it’s growing across the path half the time, and I know you can smell it!”

“Exactly. I can smell it, I don’t have to go out of my way to add it to the dish.”

“That’s not how taste works and you know it.”

“I missed this.”

Jaskier stopped short. “I- what?”

“This. Arguing with you. Knowing neither of us mean it. I said I would use my words more, so I am.”

Jaskier relaxed a bit, smiling at him. “…Thank you. I… missed you too.” He took a long pull of his drink, trying not to have to deal with the emotions clogging up his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

Ah here we go. “You can, in fact, stop apologizing. At least with words. You’ve said them, you don’t have to keep saying them.”

Geralt tilted his head in acknowledgement. “Then tell me how I can apologize.”

“…That’s a lot of power you’re giving me.”

“Maybe I want you to have that power.”

The words hung between them. Things Jaskier desperately wanted to say. Things he wished were true. But he couldn’t. And they weren’t. This was remorse. And he wouldn’t dare say what he was thinking. So, instead, he drained his drink, swallowing the last of it down to give himself a moment. “…Hug me?” he finally asked.

Geralt’s arms were around him in an instant, holding him close to his chest as Jaskier clung to him, letting himself breathe in the familiar scents that had long since meant home. His hands were solid against Jaskier’s back, holding him safe, and before he’d realized it he’d started sobbing, clinging to Geralt’s shoulders as Geralt held him.

“You’re safe,” Geralt whispered.

“I know,” Jaskier gasped, “that’s why I’m crying.”

His next nightmare he woke up to Geralt humming, and then the one after that he woke up to find Lambert was sitting next to him instead.

He frowned, and Lambert sighed, not saying anything, just gesturing behind Jaskier.

Jaskier turned around to find that Geralt was asleep next to him, completely passed out.

“…I’m kind of surprised I didn’t wake him,” Jaskier admitted.

“Probably would have if he’d slept the last few nights,” Lambert groaned. “Idiot hasn’t been sleeping. Just training. I think this might be the first time he’s slept since he got home.”

“But that was three days ago.”

“Exactly.”

Jaskier let his hand drift out, brushing the hair away from Geralt’s face as he stared at him.

He looked so… soft. Geralt never slept later than Jaskier on the path, so it was rare to see him like this. Soft, and vulnerable, and peaceful.

“He’s never going to let you out of his sight at this rate,” Lambert commented, and Jaskier snorted, shaking his head.

“No, this’ll pass. He’s just worried because I got hurt. Give it a week past when the last injuries fade, and he’ll be back to his normal self.” Lambert stared at him. “What?”

“You seriously don’t see it?”

“See what?”

Lambert shook his head, leaning back in his chair. “Go back to sleep, bard. I’ll wake you if the nightmares come back.”

“And how long till I can sleep alone?”

“When you stop screaming in your sleep. Bed.”

Jaskier shook his head, but laid down.

It was harder, lying next to Geralt. They’d shared beds in inns before, but… there had always been a distance. Geralt was never close to him, in fact he usually had his back to Jaskier. But right now he was facing towards him, eyes shut, hair falling around his face, one hand lifted, almost like it was reaching out towards him.

Jaskier closed his eyes, and tried to drift off to sleep again.

The next time he woke up, he was shocked to find it was the sun that had woken him up.

He opened his eyes to find that no one was sitting in the chair next to his bed.

And Geralt’s arm was slung across his side, the Witcher’s nose buried in his neck.

Chapter Text

Aiden blinked as he watched Lambert slowly sneak out of Jaskier’s room, closing the door silently behind him.

“I thought,” he whispered as he draped an arm around Lambert’s shoulders, “that you were in charge of keeping Jaskier company during his nightmares this morning.”

Lambert chuckled, shaking his head as they walked down the hall. “Don’t need to. Someone else has that quite in hand.”

Aiden tilted his head, listening to the heartbeats in the room. Jaskier’s own quick heartbeat, and the slow heartbeat of a Witcher in sleep. “…Geralt?” he guessed, and Lambert nodded. “He didn’t leave?”

“Nope. When I took over from him, he curled up next to Jaskier and drifted off. At this moment he’s wrapped around the bard, who seems to finally being getting some decent sleep.”

“I thought it would be harder than that to get them together.”

“If sleeping in each others’ arms isn’t enough, I don’t know what is.”

The sleeping pair didn’t make it down in time for breakfast, but Vesemir set some aside for the both of them before it was time for training.

Aiden didn’t see either Geralt or Jaskier till he made it down to the hot springs, where he found Geralt helping Jaskier wash his hair.

He stopped short, staring at the two of them for a moment, before he shook himself. That had taken far less time than he expected.

Tugging off his clothes he watched the way Jaskier relaxed into Geralt’s arms. The way Geralt spoke softly, hands gentle as they ran through Jaskier’s hair, then he cupped his hands and slowly washed away the soap.

Aiden slid into the pool opposite them, trying not to disrupt the tender moment. “I see you two have worked through your differences,” Aiden commented.

Jaskier just sighed as Geralt helped him sit up. “He’s always been clingy,” Jaskier commented, even as his head rested against Geralt’s shoulder. “Insisting on helping me bathe, when really I can manage on my own just fine.”

“And yet you’re the one who first insisted on bathing me,” Geralt grumbled. “Back before Cintra.”

Jaskier chuckled. “You’re right, I did. I’m still willing to rub chamomile into that lovely bottom of yours,” he teased, and Aiden stared.

It had taken Lambert years after they’d both gotten together to let Aiden bathe him, but it sounded like Geralt and Jaskier had been bathing each other for years already. “I’m shocked you’d let someone else bathe you,” Aiden remarked. “I thought Wolves were pricklier than that.”

“Maybe around most people,” Jaskier grinned, “but I am his best friend.”

Geralt rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to let go of that title for a while, are you?”

“Why should I? It took me twenty years to get you to admit it.”

Best friend.

Best friend?

They-

No.

They still weren’t together?

But-

But they held each other through the night! Geralt was washing Jaskier’s hair with more care and devotion than Aiden had ever seen! What the hell was happening here?

“So… you two… did you sleep well?” he asked, only for Jaskier to snort.

“Fuck no. Nightmares all night long. How long until I can go back to dreamless sleep?”

“At least three days,” Geralt informed him, “and then to be safe we can really only use it every other night.”

Jaskier groaned, and Aiden decided he might just share the sentiment. “I heard you slept well once Geralt joined you,” he instead teased, and- there was the blushing, but- fuck, why were they pulling away from each other?!

“That’s- I guess I feel safe around him,” Jaskier blustered, and Geralt let out a ‘hmm’ that could have meant anything.

Aiden sat back, staring at them even as the others came down the stairs, joining them in the pool.

“Geralt, you keep missing sparring,” Lambert called, jumping into the pool and splashing everyone even as Jaskier spluttered, and Aiden pulled him safely away as Lambert tackled Geralt in the pool, only realizing after he’d already done so that they were both naked, with nothing but the water between them.

Jaskier had frozen completely, and Aiden quickly let go of his wrist. “Lambert gets carried away sometimes,” he quickly said, turning away as Jaskier blushed, stepping back against the stone. “Ah. How are you feeling?” he asked as Eskel and Ciri got into the pool, staying clear of where Lambert and Geralt were now sparring.

“Better,” Jaskier squeaked. “I- much better.”

Aiden nodded, and thank fuck Eskel was better than him with words, because he chimed in. “Vesemir may have you with us on the training fields as early as next week. Have you ever sparred before?”

“A few times,” Jaskier answered easily, and Aiden slipped away, clinging to the wall and washing up properly as the others talked.

This was getting weirder and weirder.

“You’re sure?” Eskel asked, and Aiden nodded.

“’Best. Friend.’ I honestly was so shocked I didn’t have the wherewithal to ask about much else.”

Lambert and Eskel sat back, staring at each other. “…How the fuck don’t they know?” Lambert finally asked, and Eskel shrugged.

“We always knew Geralt was… slow, in matters of the heart. Maybe he’s fallen for someone equally as ignorant.”

“A bard who doesn’t understand the fucking heart?” Lambert scoffed. “Not likely. I don’t know what his problem is but it’s not ignorance… it can’t be.”

“You’d be surprised what someone can ignore, when they think there’s no chance,” Aiden pointed out. “Perhaps he’s convinced himself so thoroughly that Geralt doesn’t feel the same, that he’s become blind to it.”

They all stared at each other. “I know we agreed to wait till the nightmares were over, but… should we start now?” Eskel asked. “I’m starting to think if we don’t do something it’ll be far too late.”

Lambert nodded. “If I hear Geralt call him his damn ‘best friend’ I’m tempted to kiss the bard right then just to show Geralt how he really feels about him- ow!”

Aiden had smacked his arm, and was now glaring at him. “Flirtations only. We’re not acting on a damn thing. Geralt’s the only one he’d accept any kind of advances from, especially right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Lambert grumbled, rubbing his arm. “No scaring the bard. I’m not that kind of prick.”

“We will have to be very careful with that line though,” Eskel pointed out. “What he’s lived through makes this tricky. We need to be gauging his scent at all times while doing this to make sure we’re not crossing any lines.”

“Sure,” Lambert agreed. “So as long as he’s not around Geralt, we’re fine. Except- we’re only supposed to be doing this around Geralt, so he can see that he cares about his own fucking bard, and whenever Jaskier’s around Geralt he smells of nothing but fucking lust. Should be easy.”

Aiden shook his head. “How the fuck does Geralt not see it?”

The next time he saw Jaskier, the bard was alone, sitting on a window ledge and staring out into the snow, smelling of old grief. “Breathtaking views, eh?” Aiden asked, and Jaskier shrugged.

“Any view can be breathtaking when you haven’t seen anything else for a while.”

Aiden blinked, before remembering.

While he’d been able to see in the room, it had been very dark, and humans likely wouldn’t be able to see in it at all.

Just another way those bastards had tortured their bard.

“What are you thinking about?” Aiden asked as he sat down next to Jaskier. “You seem rather deep in your thoughts.”

Jaskier shrugged. “Wondering why the mountain didn’t claim me.”

Yikes. “Dark thoughts,” Aiden commented. “I’m glad it didn’t though.”

“Are you?” Jaskier turned to look at him. “Why?”

Why am I glad you’re not dead? A lot of fucking reasons!

“…Which answer would you like?”

Jaskier clenched his hands on his pants, and that scent of grief grew stronger. “The one that convinces me not to go out there again,” he admitted.

Aiden nodded, thinking. “I’m glad that you survived… because now I’m not the only one that’s new here.”

Jaskier blinked. “What?”

“I mean, yes, it’s Ciri’s first time to Kaer Morhen too, but think of all the things I can’t talk to a little girl about! Have you even found the erotica section in the library yet? I can’t talk to Ciri about that, and all the others have read those already, years ago!”

Jaskier chuckled, a small smile playing at his lips. “That’s… I know if people started reading older books I’d read years before, and wanted to talk to me about them, I would be thrilled.”

“Ah, but you’re a bard! An artist yourself! Do you honestly think Geralt would want to discuss literature with me?”

Jaskier tilted his head, nodding slightly. “He might. Eskel definitely would.”

“Ah, well, I suppose you may be right. But I still want to discuss it with you. I want to get to know you, Jaskier. I feel like an outsider here. Geralt, and Lambert, and Eskel, and Vesemir, this is their home. And Ciri’s Geralt’s child, so she’ll always be welcome here. You though, you’re like me. A guest. Still finding your footing. While it’s one thing to know that I’m welcome… it’s another to feel it. It’s kind of nice to know I’m not alone in that.”

The scent of grief had settled into something much calmer, and Jaskier was smiling faintly. “…I guess that’s a good reason to stick around then.”

“Every reason is a good reason to stay, I’ve found,” Aiden whispered, reaching over and clasping Jaskier’s hand gently. “…Please… talk to us, if you feel like that again?”

Jaskier nodded. “I’ll try.”

And that was all he could ask of him.

Chapter Text

It felt wrong, trying to sleep anywhere else, so that evening Geralt found himself in Jaskier’s room once again, sitting vigil as Jaskier slept.

The men that had hurt Jaskier were dead. That’s what Aiden had said. And that left him with no one to hunt down. No one to kill for daring to hurt his bard. Nothing to fight, save the nightmares in Jaskier’s mind.

The letter replayed in his mind.

What does a monster want with such a pretty toy?

Lambert had saved Jaskier. Not Geralt.

Because Geralt had sent Jaskier away. He couldn’t regret going to Cintra to save Ciri. But he regretted not bringing Jaskier with him.

If Jaskier had been with him, how much would have been different? Jaskier would have been spared. But would Calanthe have let Ciri go with him? Would she have been spared the nightmares she lived through in those few weeks before Geralt found her?

Jaskier had always been the one who could talk down a situation. Make others see reason when Geralt couldn’t. How had Geralt never realized just how much Jaskier did for him?

“You’re brooding,” Jaskier commented, and Geralt glanced over. He hadn’t even noticed Jaskier waking up.

“Nightmares?” he asked.

Jaskier shrugged. “We knew there would be. What’re you thinking about?”

“Cintra.”

Jaskier blinked. “Right. You went back for Ciri. I’m surprised Calanthe let you take her.”

“You-“ Fuck. He hadn’t even realized. “No one told you?”

Jaskier sat up properly, frowning. “Told me what…?”

“You- fuck, you must have been taken before word could spread. Cintra fell to Nilfgaard.”

“It what?! ”

Geralt nodded. “Calanthe’s dead. I found Ciri in the woods a few weeks after Cintra fell. She barely managed to escape.”

Jaskier sat back, staring at nothing in particular. “…Fuck. I never liked the woman, but… I’m sorry she’s gone.”

“I don’t know if Ciri saw her death or not. She won’t talk about that night. I’m still not sure how she got out of the castle.”

“That poor girl…” Jaskier frowned. “Why are you here with me, instead of helping her?”

Ah. “Ciri… she’s stubborn. Doesn’t want to be helped. Will accept teaching, but… not much more than that.”

“She’s traumatized, ” Jaskier pointed out.

“So are you.”

Jaskier looked down, that same grief filling his scent again. “…Here we are, I guess.”

“Jaskier…” how to ask the questions in his head? How to help? Jaskier had always thrived with words, but Geralt had never been able to find the right ones. “…You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not sure what sleep will do to help,” Jaskier whispered.

“Do you want me to hold you again?”

Jaskier looked up, hopeful. “Would you?”

Geralt stood up, laying down next to Jaskier as he scooted over. Tentatively, he wrapped his arms around Jaskier, relaxing as Jaskier seemed to melt into his arms.

…He’d never let himself enjoy this before. Holding Jaskier in his arms. Despite being of the same height, Jaskier had always been that much frailer than Geralt, and he was a warm comfort in Geralt’s arms. Someone to protect, and keep safe. Someone that saw him as safe.

Someone that still saw him as safe, even after everything that had happened between them.

Geralt tightened his arms around Jaskier, holding him close, resting his head on Jaskier’s hair and letting his eyes slip closed.

Mischief didn’t have a scent, so much as an energy. And that morning was full of it.

Geralt couldn’t be sure where it was coming from, but it was always a safe bet that it would be Lambert.

Geralt had taken a seat next to Ciri on the other side of Jaskier, and Eskel and Aiden had sat down on either side of the bard, offering him polite smiles as they talked.

“Did you sleep well last night?” Eskel asked, and Jaskier shrugged.

“About as well as I could hope for,” he sighed. “I’m missing the perks of having a Witcher in my mind.”

Something spiked in the air, but Geralt couldn’t identify it, so he dismissed it entirely.

“Well, that was the second night, so after tonight we should be able to start up a rotation,” Eskel pointed out.

“Thank fuck, ” Jaskier groaned, turning back to his breakfast.

“Ah, Jaskier, you’ve got something,” Aiden reached across, gently tracing his thumb across the corner of Jaskier’s mouth, catching a bit of honey that had clung there, and flashing Jaskier a grin. “There you go.”

What.

He frowned at Aiden, but couldn’t think what to say, and Aiden just chuckled, turning back to his own food. “So, should I show you any of those recommendations I was talking about, before I head off to spar?” Aiden asked.

What recommendations?

“I’m not sure if I have the energy for anything too raunchy,” Jaskier admitted, and-

What?

“But I’d be happy to try.”

“Try what? ” Geralt interrupted, irritated when it came out snippier than he intended.

Jaskier blinked, startled. “Ah- Aiden had some books to recommend?”

Oh.

That… was fine.

“…There are some good ones in the library,” he admitted, turning his head and scowling.

It was nothing. He was just on edge. Aiden was just being kind.

That was it.

He missed the look that Eskel and Aiden shared, and then Eskel spoke up again. “Actually, I might be able to recommend some books that are nice to fall asleep to. I could even read some to you this afternoon if you’d like.”

“Oh would you?” Jaskier asked, excited. “That sounds wonderful.”

“Will you read any books to me?” Ciri asked, and Eskel smiled softly at her.

“I can read to you before bed if you’d like?”

This was… alright, this was weird, but it was fine. Eskel had always been one to care about others. Even if offering to read someone to sleep was… new, it wasn’t unusual. It was who he was.

Maybe being… touchy, was just who the Cat was.

Nothing to get worked up over. That would upset Jaskier.

Still, when breakfast was over and Aiden helped Jaskier up to the library, one arm around his back, his hand on Jaskier’s side…

It was only the fact that Jaskier didn’t smell of fear that stopped Geralt from snapping at Aiden.

…Fuck, maybe he did need more sleep. He wasn’t usually so easily provoked, even when Lambert was trying to get a rise out of him.

Maybe-

Jaskier was going to be taking a nap later on this afternoon, maybe he’d let Geralt join him?

To help him with his nightmares, of course. No other reason.

He shook his head, remembering that Eskel was supposed to be reading to him. Jaskier might not call him out, but Eskel definitely would.

…Maybe he could get knocked out during training instead-

And have to run the walls till dusk? No.

No, he’d just have to try to nap in his own room, or wait till this evening.

At least Lambert hadn’t commented that morning when Geralt had woken up with Jaskier’s arms around him.

Geralt sighed, standing up and stretching as he prepared mentally for the training ahead.

At least he could help train Ciri.

As he made his way out of the keep, he couldn’t help but think he’d missed something.

Chapter Text

Even with the offer to read him to sleep, Jaskier hadn’t expected to wake up from his nap to Eskel sitting next to him. “You know, I think I might be able to take a nap on my own,” he pointed out, and Eskel looked up from the book he was reading.

“You’re still recovering. And, the last time we left you alone for a nap, you did try to walk down the mountain.”

Right.

“Well, I think I’ve calmed down enough from the shock of seeing Geralt to not try that again.”

“I hope so.” Eskel stood up, offering Jaskier his hand. “Shall we head down to dinner?”

Eskel’s hand was warm and strong as he pulled Jaskier up from the bed, wrapping an arm around his side as he helped Jaskier walk downstairs.

“I can walk on my own,” Jaskier pointed out, but Eskel just smiled.

“Just let me care for you, alright?”

…Something was going on.

Still, he was never one to pass up the opportunity to have a strong man’s arms around him, so he leaned into the touch.

They walked in peaceful silence down the stairs, till they got to the main hall where Geralt was in the middle of telling a story.

He stopped short as he saw Jaskier and Eskel, staring at them till Lambert prompted him to finish the story.

Interesting.

Eskel helped Jaskier over to the bench, helping him sit down with a hand on the small of his back.

Geralt’s eyes never left Jaskier for a moment as he did so.

Lambert grabbed a bowl of food for him, and Aiden sat next to him, already asking him questions about the books he’d read that afternoon as Eskel took the other seat next to him, and Lambert sat down across from him.

Geralt sat down between Lambert and Ciri, but he remained quiet, staring at Jaskier. It was… unnerving, to be the focus of Geralt’s attention. To feel his eyes on him through the whole meal-

Aiden’s hand landed gently on his shoulder, and Jaskier’s mind narrowed onto the contact. Aiden gently patted his shoulder, then withdrew his hand, continuing on with the joke he’d been telling, but Jaskier wasn’t able to focus on it.

He… was reading into it. Clearly. Lambert and Aiden were together, and Lambert was sitting right there, so Aiden wouldn’t be flirting with him.

Definitely not.

It had just been too long since he’d had a chance to flirt with someone, and now that his mind was starting to accept that he was safe, he was starting to crave it again. That’s all this was.

But, Witchers could smell scents, so he needed to be careful. He wouldn’t want Lambert thinking he was interested in Aiden. Not when the two of them were clearly-

“Oh, Jaskier, there’s something in your hair,” Lambert commented, before reaching over and plucking a feather from Jaskier’s hair he hadn’t noticed, and-

Brushing his finger over Jaskier’s ear as he did so.

What.

What?

But then he was pulling back, and it was nothing, but now Geralt was glaring at Lambert-

Fuck, this was a mess.

What was going on?

At the end of the meal, Aiden was offering to walk with him back to his room, but Jaskier shook his head. “Honestly, I think I’d like some semblance of privacy, if you don’t mind?”

The others nodded, and Eskel was offering to read a book to Ciri, and Aiden and Vesemir were working on cleaning up as Jaskier made his way out of the hallway, walking slowly up the stairs before pausing.

Geralt knew a Witcher's hearing was better than that of a human’s, but that meant he always forgot how well a human could hear, and Jaskier pressed his ear against the stone, listening in as Geralt spoke to Lambert.

“What are you doing? You already have Aiden. Don’t do this to Jaskier.”

“Do what to Jaskier?” Lambert asked. “Care about him, and then ditch him? Nah, that sounds like something you’d do.”

“You’re toying with him. Leave him alone.”

“Why? Something you want to say, pretty boy? There a reason you’re so fucking protective of the bard that you won’t let me pull a feather from his hair without looking like you want to gut me?”

“He’s my friend, ” Geralt growled, “and I’ve already put him through enough heartbreak. Is that what you want me to say? Admit that I broke his heart, and I’m failing to pick up the fucking pieces?”

“You still don’t see it,” Lambert sighed. “Go make sure your bard gets to his room, if he falls and breaks something I’ll rip your head off.”

Jaskier pulled away from the wall, slowly making his way upstairs, trying not to let his heartrate give away that he’d been listening in.

A few moments later Geralt was walking up the stairs, easily catching up with him and tugging Jaskier’s arm over his shoulders. “Come on, you’re still recovering.”

Jaskier nodded, keeping his thoughts to himself as they walked up to his room.

He woke up from another nightmare, blinking his eyes at the dim light of the fire, and the way Geralt had fallen asleep curled around him again.

Lambert was toying with him. He hadn’t denied it. Were the others?

Jaskier thought back to the easy smiles Eskel gave him. The way Aiden had sincerely wished for him to stick around. The way Lambert had yelled at him to stay alive on the mountain, and had punched Geralt because of how Geralt had treated him.

…No. They weren’t toying with him. But they were doing something.

He hadn’t imagined the way Aiden had been more physical around him in the last day. How Eskel and Lambert had made a point to keep him away from Geralt. How Eskel had offered to read to him, and had been surprised when Ciri had asked him to read to her as well.

They weren’t toying with him.

They were flirting with him.

He blamed the trauma for not recognizing it immediately, he was usually on top of his game better than that.

But why?

Why were they going out of their way to flirt with him? Why put in that effort?

Well. There really was only one way to find out.

“You still don’t get it,” Lambert sighed.

Geralt didn’t know what they were doing, that much was obvious. Was this about Geralt? A Witcher tradition?

Jaskier smiled as he reached up, gently brushing Geralt’s hair back from his face.

How many people could touch a Witcher in their sleep without waking him up? It spoke to a trust Jaskier had never believed Geralt would ever give him.

He hoped this wouldn’t break that trust. But if the other Witchers were going to flirt with him, then the only rational thing to do would be to flirt back. 

Chapter Text

He’d heard the others talk about it, but Eskel was still caught off guard when he opened the door to Jaskier’s room only to find Geralt wrapped around Jaskier, his nose in the bard’s neck, both of them sleeping deeply.

“Geralt, you lucky oblivious idiot,” Eskel muttered, stepping inside the room and taking a seat next to Jaskier’s bed.

The rotation really wasn’t necessary anymore, except that Geralt was sleeping so deeply these nights that he’d slept through two of Jaskier’s nightmares, forcing the others to step in.

Eskel opened his book, allowing the firelight to illuminate the words as he waited for the sun to rise.

Geralt woke up first, sitting up and blinking at Eskel. “…I’m almost caught up on sleep,” he pointed out. “You don’t have to stay.”

“Good. If you still feel the same way after tonight, we can talk about you taking over entirely.”

“Tonight?”

“My Somne is better than yours,” Eskel explained, turning back to his book. “Go take a bath, Geralt. Or do you not trust me to keep an eye on our bard?”

A deliberate choice of words, and one that Eskel was hoping Geralt would call him out on, if his argument with Lambert yesterday was any indication of where he was at.

Geralt just stared at him for a minute, before standing up and leaving.

Oh well. They’d known it would take a while. They had a full winter, after all.

After several minutes, Jaskier stirred as well, blinking in the light of the sun that was just beginning to rise.

Eskel set his book aside, and smiled at Jaskier. “How did you sleep?”

Jaskier just shrugged, then yawned. “The same as always,” he managed, and smiled as Eskel offered him a hand up. “I’m going to get used to this,” he warned teasingly, and Eskel chuckled.

“Being taken care of? Good. I was beginning to fear you’d leave this winter having been neglected entirely.”

Jaskier chuckled, and when Eskel wrapped an arm around Jaskier he leaned into the touch, his hand resting on Eskel’s shoulder, even as Eskel shuddered at the warmth. “Shall we?” Jaskier asked.

As they made their way down to breakfast, Eskel noticed that Jaskier was clinging to him more than usual. “Are you alright?” Eskel asked.

“Just fine darling.” No hint of a lie in his tone, and he didn’t sound like he was in pain, but still…

“No new aches?”

Jaskier shook his head. “If I was in pain, I’d tell you. Thank you for checking in with me though dear heart.”

Eskel nodded, trying to ignore the way those simple words sent fire through his chest.

Jaskier was just being nice. He was a bard, and he was feeling better, so of course he’d be acting a little different. Geralt had always said how much of a flirt the bard was, this must be normal.

They made it down to the hallway and Eskel helped Jaskier across to the table, only for Jaskier to gently kiss his cheek before taking his seat. “Thank you darling,” Jaskier smiled, and then turned to his food, and Eskel-

Couldn’t think. Couldn’t move. Just kept remembering the feel of Jaskier’s soft lips over his scars, the warmth of him in his arms, the way he smiled-

“You alright Esk?” Lambert asked, and Eskel had to all but shake himself to keep moving.

“I’m alright,” he agreed, stepping back and grabbing food.

Lambert had already gotten food for Jaskier, and Eskel did his best to stay calm as he got food for himself, and sat down across from Jaskier. Aiden and Lambert were already sitting on either side of Jaskier, keeping Geralt away from him.

Hopefully, making Geralt’s jealousy worse.

Sure enough, a few minutes later Geralt was up from the baths, and glaring at where the three of them had already taken all the spots around Jaskier.

He sat down, and the flirting began.

“Jaskier,” Aiden began, setting a hand gently on the bard’s wrist, where Witchers knew human scents were strong, “Could you help me with something this morning?”

“Of course love, what can I help you with?”

Aiden blinked, startled by the nickname, but recovered quickly even as Geralt continued to glare. “Ah- there- there was a book, on, um, monsters in Oxenfurt, and ghost stories, and- I was wondering if you could tell me about any rumors you know of?”

Well saved, Aiden, Eskel thought, even though he’d been no better when Jaskier had kissed his cheek… his soft lips pressed against the scars as if they weren’t even there, warm and sweet and-

“Of course!” Jaskier beamed, and Eskel began to realize that maybe, just maybe, they’d made a mistake.

Maybe they couldn’t flirt with Jaskier without getting attached.

Lunch was no better. The few times they’d tried to find casual reasons to brush up against Jaskier, he’d leaned into it, and then followed it up by calling them ‘dear heart’ or ‘darling’ or ‘love’, and Eskel was quite sure that if he didn’t kiss the bard by the end of the day he was going to explode.

How could anyone be so… so… cute?

Then Lambert had offered to show Jaskier around the labs.

“I’ll go too,” Geralt insisted, even as Lambert stared at him, smirking, and then Ciri caught Eskel’s gaze, and winked, before glancing at them.

What the hell. In for a pound and all that. “As will I,” he decided, even as Geralt glared at him. “More people can’t be a bad thing.”

Which was how he’d found himself in the labs, half listening in as Lambert showed Jaskier around, and half watching to make sure the bard didn’t try to eat anything he shouldn’t.

“This is where I’m spending most of my winter,” Lambert explained. “If you’ve ever seen the shit that Geralt makes for his potions, you’ll understand. I make enough potions for these idiots so they have decent shit to start off the year right, and then they’re screwed once they run out.”

Jaskier laughed, soft and musical, and Lambert blinked, startled, but then carried on. “So, uh, have you helped Geralt with any of his potions before?”

“A few,” Jaskier agreed. “Why, do you want me to help you with them this winter?”

“That- actually, that’d be pretty nice. An extra set of hands is useful, if you’re good at following instructions.”

“Oh I’ve always got an extra set of hands for you, handsome.”

Something snapped, and they all looked over at Geralt, who had just snapped a wooden bowl he’d been holding.

“…I should clean this up,” Geralt growled, turning and finding a towel as they all watched, confused.

After a moment, Jaskier turned back to Lambert. “So, you spend most of the winter doing this?”

“Ah, yeah, I collect the ingredients on the path, and store any extra for the next year.”

“Sounds like you’re going to be rather busy,” Jaskier agreed, smiling as he draped an arm over Lambert’s shoulders. “Do tell me if I can be of any help.”

What. The fuck. Was happening?

That evening after dinner, Eskel and Geralt both helped Jaskier up the stairs, even as Geralt glared at where Eskel’s hand was resting on Jaskier’s hip, and Jaskier’s arm was draped over Eskel’s shoulders.

He’d have to do so much apologizing to Geralt once all this was over.

They made it back up to Jaskier’s room, and Eskel helped him over to the bed, noting how despite his best efforts, Jaskier was breathing heavily and sweating.

Even the stairs were too much. Maybe he should ask Vesemir if this was to be expected.

“Thank you,” Jaskier smiled, his hand lingering on Eskel’s arm for a moment before he laid down, and Eskel stepped back.

“Well, wolf? Are you going to hold our bard through the night again?”

Geralt scowled, but Jaskier scooted over to make room for him, and he climbed into bed, wrapping his arms around Jaskier.

“Well, I’ll see you all in the morning,” Jaskier commented, and Eskel formed the sign of Somne.

“ Sleep, and have pleasant dreams,” he instructed, and Jaskier’s eyes drifted closed.

“…Why are you doing this?” Geralt asked.

Eskel took a seat, picking up his book and opening it to the bookmark. “…Because I want him to be happy,” he answered, half tempted to Somne Geralt too. “Go to sleep. I have a book to read.”

Geralt snorted, but wrapped his arms tighter around Jaskier, and was soon asleep.

…Something told Eskel it wouldn’t be long before Geralt snapped.

He just hoped he didn’t snap first. 

Chapter Text

Yesterday hadn’t gone as expected. Aiden still felt like he was off balance as he made his way down to breakfast, startled to see that Geralt was already sitting next to Jaskier.

Aiden shoved away the pang of jealousy in his own heart at that, and grabbed a bowl of porridge. This just meant he got to sit next to Lambert again.

He took a seat, already leaning into Lambert’s touch as Jaskier grinned, telling an animated story, looking so much better than he had the last few mornings.

Right. Somne. He would have actually slept last night.

Eskel did look tired, but Witchers needed less sleep, and he’d take that evening to sleep as Lambert and Aiden kept watch over Jaskier’s sleep.

Maybe Aiden should recommend that Eskel take a nap that afternoon. The poor man deserved it.

“Any fun dreams?” Lambert asked with a grin, and Jaskier blinked in surprise, before smiling coyly at him, scent full of delight.

“Are you asking if I dreamed of you, darling?”

Lambert spluttered, and Aiden grinned. Jaskier had caught on, and was flirting back. Good. Aiden had been worried about pushing him too far before, but now it seemed the bard was willing to match their energy. Had someone explained to him what they were doing? He should probably fill him in on that. Just so he didn’t think they were trying to woo him. Though… he did deserve to be wooed properly. Something he likely wouldn’t get from Geralt, even if the idiot did open his eyes.

“Speaking of dreams, there’s an incredible book about a sorceress who could interpret dreams. I read it the other day. I could show you this afternoon if you like?” Aiden asked, and Jaskier grinned.

“That sounds wonderful. Maybe then my dreams will be full of beautiful sorceresses instead of the usual nightly terrors.”

“You don’t talk about your nightmares,” Geralt pointed out, and Jaskier’s scent lost the cheer, falling into something darker, that had clung to him when Aiden and Lambert had first found him.

“…Not much to talk about,” Jaskier managed, before smiling softly at Ciri, who was just now making it down to breakfast. “Hello dear, how are you doing this morning?”

“Tired,” Ciri groaned, grabbing a bowl of porridge and sitting down next to Geralt.

“While some people need recommendations for books, others need recommendations on when to pinch the candle and go to bed,” Eskel remarked, even as the others chuckled and Ciri casually flipped them off.

Good. The girl deserved to feel safe here.

“Right.” Lambert clapped his hands, standing up. “Vesemir’ll have our hides if we take much longer. Geralt, it’s your turn to clean up the dishes. Oh, and Jaskier,” Lambert grinned. “Be sure to watch us train this morning, alright?” With a wink, he was off, and Aiden shook his head as he chuckled.

“He won’t be the only one showing off. If you feel up to it, you should come sit out on the front steps to watch us.”

Then Aiden stood up, taking off after Lambert, and nearly tripping on the steps as Jaskier called over: “Make sure to put on a show for me then!”

…Oh, this winter was going to be fun.

Jaskier did sit out on the steps for a few minutes to watch, but before long Vesemir was ordering him back inside, insisting he wasn’t recovered enough yet to be outside.

Geralt was a force to spar against, strong and fast and angry, clearly pissed and jealous but unwilling to actually talk about it, instead taking out his aggression as they sparred.

Still, all the aggression stayed on the training grounds, so there was no need to be too worried. Except about how unwilling to talk Geralt was. Seriously, they’d been flirting with his bard for days now, why hadn’t he done anything?

Lunch was equally as flirtatious, and as Aiden helped Jaskier up to the library, he made sure to keep a hand on Jaskier’s side, taking as much of Jaskier’s weight as he could even as Geralt glared.

That man had to snap soon, this was getting dangerously close to Aiden genuinely flirting.

“I am genuinely sorry for how long this took,” Aiden began as they got closer to the library, “but it’s surprisingly hard to find good wood this late in the season. Or, wood that’s not for burning, that is.”

Jaskier blinked. “What?”

They got to the library, and Jaskier stopped short as Aiden just grinned. It had taken a lot of work, but the scents of pure delight and happiness and relief were so strong coming off Jaskier that Aiden would do it again in a heartbeat.

Jaskier pushed off of him, stumbling a bit as he crossed over to the chair, where Aiden had carefully set his lute. “You did save her,” he whispered, fingers running delicately over the lute strings. “I never thought I’d see here again…”

“She was a little worse for wear, but nothing we couldn’t fix,” Aiden grinned, and Jaskier turned back to him, confused.

“…Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this? Flirting with me, fixing my lute- I don’t understand what’s happening.”

Oh, oh Jaskier. “Because we care about you. Is that so hard to understand?”

“ Yes. ”

“Jaskier…” Aiden reached out, gently brushing the hair away from Jaskier’s eyes, where tears were starting to gather. “How have you lived so long, and still not realized that people care about you? Geralt may be an idiot, but the rest of us have some understanding of just how special you are-“

He wasn’t ready for the kiss.

Jaskier pushed forward, pressing his lips against Aiden’s, and Aiden’s mind froze in shock.

Oh- oh-

He let his eyes slip closed, gently cupping Jaskier’s cheek as Jaskier gripped his arm, before pulling back. “…Do you really think so?” Jaskier rasped. “Tell me you’re not just fucking with me.”

“We’re not,” Aiden promised. “We want you to be happy, just- Geralt?”

Jaskier snorted, shaking his head. “Geralt doesn’t see me as anything but a friend. He never has.”

“I think the last few days prove that that’s not true.”

Jaskier shook his head, chuckling slightly. “So that’s how it is. You were flirting with me to try and make Geralt jealous.”

Oh, he was clever. Fuck, that was dangerously attractive. What the hell, all of this was dangerous waters. “To be fair, it has been working, just… wasn’t expecting you to flirt back.”

Jaskier chuckled. “Careful flirting with a bard. We might get the wrong idea.”

He pulled back, and Aiden’s fingers itched to follow him, but he stayed still. “Jaskier…”

“Thank you, for restoring my lute,” Jaskier managed, picking it up, but now that scent of delight was tarnished with grief and pain and wrong.

“What is it?” Aiden asked. “Please, what’s wrong?”

Jaskier shook his head. “…Just… Remembering how it got burned.”

Oh. Not this then. A memory.

“…Can you play something?” Aiden asked, and Jaskier took a breath, before sitting down on the chair and nodded.

“I think I can try.”

Aiden sat on the arm of the chair, draping himself around Jaskier, trying to push away the knowledge of what Jaskier’s lips felt like against his own.

That was a very dangerous thing to know. 

Chapter Text

Lambert stared at Aiden incredulously as he came downstairs.  “…Alright, I think all of us are a little past ‘fake’. What the fuck happened?!”

“He kissed me.”

“Yeah, I can smell that. Why?”

“Why do you kiss me, asshole?”

Eskel held up a hand, halting the argument. “…We need to talk to Jaskier. Plainly. Fill him in on this.”

“He figured out we were flirting with him to make Geralt jealous,” Aiden explained.

“Just how past fake are we?” Eskel asked. “You kissed him, Aiden. Are you going to do it again?”

“He kissed me,” Aiden defended, before sighing. “…Lambert?”

Lambert snorted. “If the bard kisses me I’m kissing back.”

“Right… so what the hell is this?”

They all took a seat, staring at each other.

Eskel was the first to speak. “I… have feelings. For Jaskier.”

Lambert sighed, and shook his head. “Fuck it, so do I.”

“I think it’s fairly obvious I do too,” Aiden added. “…What… what the hell are we doing?”

“Geralt’s going to kill us,” Eskel groaned.

Lambert couldn’t help the laugh, and he leaned back, staring up at the ceiling. “Well then. He’d better hurry up and tell the bard how he feels, before our feelings turn into straight up love.”

Aiden stared at him. “You really think it’ll get that far?”

“If he calls me ‘handsome’ again it just might.”

Eskel chuckled at that. “Your face was funny. So was Geralt’s reaction- I can’t believe he broke a bowl and still hasn’t realized he’s in love with Jaskier.”

“He needs to hurry up then,” Aiden announced. “Before we beat him to it.”

Lambert spent the rest of his day in the labs, working on preparing ingredients so he could spend a whole day later in the winter doing nothing but brewing potions. By dinner that evening he estimated he could get his first round of potions made sometime in the next week, and he went down to dinner satisfied with his work.

Only to stop and stare.

He’d known Aiden was gifting him back the lute that afternoon. Had figured that was what had caused the bard to kiss Aiden. He hadn’t realized the bard would decide to play the lute that evening.

Jaskier sat on the table, strumming his lute as he grinned, having donned a red coat from storage along with a frankly ridiculous hat, and was wearing brown pants that clung to his thighs and boots that showed off his calves, with a puffy sleeved shirt that cut low on his chest.

Lambert hadn’t even been aware they had such an outfit in storage.

Then he began to sing.

Lambert didn’t recognize the song, but from the soft look Geralt was giving the bard, he clearly did. It was slow, and sensual, something between a heart wrenching ballad and a saucy tale to be sung in a brothel, and Lambert had to take a seat before walking became difficult.

Jaskier’s voice.

He’d known the bard had to have a good voice, he was a bard. But the deep notes of his voice, the way his soul seemed to pour into the melody as he growled the words-

Well fuck.

It was a good thing they’d already decided they were properly wooing the bard, because after a performance like this Lambert was half tempted to kiss the bard on the mouth.

He wasn’t the only one who thought so. The others were all staring at him, food forgotten as they listened to the bard’s song. Aiden looked damn near entranced, and Eskel’d never seemed so vulnerable before.

Geralt-

Fuck.

Geralt looked like the bard had hung the damn moon, he was so gone on him.

…Well. He’d better make a move, because Lambert was done waiting for him to catch up.

When the song ended, they all clapped, and Lambert stood up, crossing over and picking the bard up, even as he squeaked. “Wonderful performance,” he said as he set the bard on his feet, his hands lingering on Jaskier’s waist for a moment as Jaskier stared at him, so close he could have kissed him.

Lambert pulled back, and cleared his throat. “You planning on playing every evening?” he asked, and Jaskier grinned.

“I should hope so. It’s been far too long since I had my lute in hand, and I plan to enjoy her for as long as I can. Though, at the moment I should only be playing one song at a time. Still recovering my callouses, and all.”

“Practice can only help with that,” Lambert agreed, even as Geralt glared at him.

“…You sound good,” Geralt finally said, and Jaskier blinked in surprise, before beaming.

“Why thank you! I’ll be the first to admit that I wasn’t sure how my voice was recovering, but that came out much better than I’d anticipated. It’s nice to see you appreciating my music for once. I know that must have hurt to say.”

Underneath the ribbing, Lambert had heard what Jaskier hadn’t directly said.

Geralt didn’t compliment the bard. At least not enough.

Yeah, no. Geralt’d had twenty years of chances. It was their turn to show the bard how valued he was.

Geralt glared as Lambert stepped inside Jaskier’s room that evening. “I can keep an eye on him,” he growled.

“Since when?” Lambert scoffed. “You’ve slept through his last few nightmares.”

“I won’t be asleep.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier interrupted, “if you’re going to be holding me through the night, then you’re not going to be awake. And if the two of you continue to argue, neither of you are going to be here this evening because I’ll be sleeping alone. Get along or get out.”

Lambert nodded, smirking a bit as Geralt scowled at him, but didn’t argue further.

Instead, Geralt got into bed next to Jaskier, wrapping his arms around the bard even as Jaskier sighed fondly.

Lambert took the seat next to the bed. “Get some sleep, the both of you. Aiden’ll be here in the morning when you wake up.”

He’d known the bard wouldn’t sleep through the night. He hadn’t without Somne since the night they brought him to Kaer Morhen. But this was the worst one yet.

The scent of fear flooded the room, and Jaskier started twitching, tossing and turning in his sleep, thrashing in Geralt’s arms as Geralt slowly began to stir.

Lambert reacted faster. “Jaskier, wake up,” he reached over, trying to shake Jaskier’s shoulder to wake him up. “It’s just a nightmare, it’s not real.”

Jaskier didn’t react.

He started whimpering, high notes of fear and pain as Geralt sat up, grabbing Jaskier’s hand and holding it. “Jaskier, please, you’re safe,” he tried.

The whimpers grew worse, tiny gasps of “no, no no please, please don’t,” that broke Lambert’s heart.

“Jaskier, Jaskier!” Geralt called, growing louder as he tried to cut through the nightmare.

Finally Jaskier gasped awake, shaking as he cried, only to turn and throw up over the side of the bed.

Lambert winced, managing to avoid it, and rested a hand on Jaskier’s back as he shook. “You’re alright b-“ Jaskier pulled back, flinching away from both of them, stumbling off the bed and planting his back to the corner as he continued to shake. “…Jask?”

“Jaskier?” Geralt asked, but Jaskier just shook, tugging his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, hands clenching and unclenching against his pants as he buried his head in his knees, the scent of tears and terror flooding the room.

Lambert glanced over at Geralt, who shook his head.

He didn’t know what was happening either.

Fuck.

“Jaskier,” Lambert spoke slowly as he approached, “you’re safe. Completely safe. Nothing’s gonna happen to you here.”

Nothing.

“Jaskier… do you know where you are?” Geralt asked.

Still nothing.

Not good.

“You’re in Kaer Morhen,” Lambert explained, slowly getting closer, till he was close enough to touch Jaskier, but right now he didn’t dare. “Aiden and I brought you here to recover. Do you remember that?”

Geralt got off the bed, slowly coming forward and kneeling down next to Jaskier. “…Can you hear me at all?” Geralt asked. “Jaskier, I need you to respond. Can you hear the words I’m saying?”

Nothing.

Jaskier didn’t make a single sound to indicate he could hear them. He clenched his hands against his pants, fingers digging into the fabric till his fingers went white, and continued to cry. 

Chapter Text

“Can you hear me, Jaskier?”

It was so dark.

So dark.

He couldn’t see anything around himself.

He’d had rough sex before. Had disappointing sex before. But this… this was something new. Something worse.

It felt like the bastard was inside his mind, violating him all over again.

“Come on bard, talk to us!”

Voices, yelling. They were so loud. So painfully loud.

Where was Geralt-

No.

No, Geralt wasn’t coming for him. Not this time.

This time he was on his own.

“Jaaaskiiier,” that bastard taunted, and Jaskier shuddered, feeling his hand trace down Jaskier’s back, the touch burning his skin. “Does your Witcher know yet? What I did to you?”

What?

He wanted to lift his head, but there was nothing to see. The room was so dark. Too dark. The images behind his eyes were brighter than what lay in front of him. The only sunlight he ever saw anymore was in his dreams, where he stood on the mountain and watched the man that held his heart destroy him.

A hand grasped his shoulder and he tried to bite back the whimper, but he was just so scared! Every time someone touched him now it was to hurt him, every time the door opened he was bound and blindfolded, sometimes even gagged if they didn’t want to hear his screams, and he never knew what fresh hell was coming for him.

The hand didn’t move from his shoulder, but it didn’t do anything either, just held him.

What was it this time? Waiting for him to relax before they beat him? Or would they bind him again? Or hold him down and take turns raping him?

How long had he been here? He couldn’t even remember.

“Jaskier, please.”

Please what?

He wouldn’t do it. Whatever it was. The pain wouldn’t stop, but every piece of resistance he could claim, he would. Even if that just meant burying his head further into his knees-

“Jaskier.”

A haze stole over his mind.

Peace, and calm, and-

“Breathe,” He obeyed without thought. “Let it out. You’re safe.” Safe? What? No, yes- Where-

“You’re safe. You’re in Kaer Morhen- open your eyes-“

Jaskier blinked, and the fog evaporated.

Eskel was kneeling in front of him, Lambert and Geralt either side of him. All of them terrified.

“…What?” he managed, and they all relaxed.

“There you are,” Eskel offered him a slight smile. “You got lost in your head. I had to use Axii to pull you out.”

Axii.

Witcher mind control.

That was the fog-

“Oh gods-“ Jaskier slammed a hand over his mouth as his stomach tried to rebel, and Lambert quickly shoved a bowl into his lap just in case.

“The hell was that nightmare about?” Lambert asked.

Jaskier shook his head. “Just… the darkness. It… it never ended…”

“You’re safe,” Geralt insisted, wrapping an arm around Jaskier’s shoulder and gently tugging him into a hug. “You won’t ever be in the darkness again.”

Jaskier shook, tears falling as he clung to Geralt.

His white hair stood out in the dim light of the room, something Jaskier could anchor himself to, and he clung to Geralt like a raft in a storm.

“I’ll go get some more wood,” Lambert decided, slipping out of the room, and Eskel sat next to them on the floor.

Fuck, they were on the floor. “Bed?” Jaskier managed, and Geralt nodded, lifting him into his arms and carrying him over, sitting down and holding Jaskier close.

It had felt so real. He hadn’t known where he was, what day it was, anything.

“We should talk to Vesemir,” Eskel said softly. “If the nightmares are just getting worse, there could be something going on.”

Jaskier didn’t have energy to comment. He rested his head against Geralt’s shoulder, breathing slowly as Geralt gently rubbed a soothing hand along his arm.

“Maybe it’s the mage,” Jaskier whispered, and Geralt stopped moving.

“Mage?”

Jaskier nodded. “One of them was a mage… maybe he did something?” Geralt looked at Eskel, and Jaskier frowned, glancing between them. “What?”

Eskel turned his head, listening to something further into the keep. “…Lambert’s going to get Aiden,” Eskel informed him, which- what?

Jaskier looked back to Geralt. “Does someone want to explain what’s happening?”

“No one mentioned a mage before,” Geralt explained.

“You’re sure?” Eskel asked, and Jaskier turned to him to repeat what he’d said, only to realize Eskel wasn’t looking at him, but rather out towards the hall. Witcher hearing. “…Fuck.”

“Does someone want to explain what’s happening?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt did his best to continue running his hand up and down Jaskier’s arm.

“We’ll keep you safe, no matter what,” he promised, which was the opposite of reassuring.

The door slammed back open and Jaskier flinched back, even as Lambert winced, tossing a few extra logs on the fire as Aiden entered the room, disheveled from sleep.

Both looked worried.

“What’s going on?” Jaskier asked.

“You’re sure there was a mage?” Aiden asked.

Jaskier blinked, remembering how far Aiden’s room was from his.

They’d run here.

He nodded. “He… some of the torture was lethal. He healed me when I thought I was going to die.”

Geralt growled, holding Jaskier closer.

Eskel stared at the other two, who shook their heads.

“Six men killed,” Lambert explained. “All the fuckers in that house. None of them were a mage.”

Jaskier swallowed. “…There were seven men that raped me,” he whispered. “…The mage got away?”

“Fuck,” Aiden swore, turning and pacing the small room. “…He must not have been there when we arrived. Fuck, how did we not smell him?!”

“Mages can mask their scents if they’re trying,” Eskel pointed out. “He knew he was up against a Witcher. It would have been the first thing he did.”

Jaskier shivered, hearing his voice chuckle against his ear. “You’ll never escape me, Jaskier.”

“What can you tell us about him?” Aiden asked. “A name, a description, anything at all.”

Jaskier tried to think back, but he’d been meticulous. “He never told me his name. I never even saw him. I couldn’t see anything in that room. Even when they opened the door, either it would be night, or the other men entered first, and they’d blindfold me before he entered.”

“Fuck.”

“He…” Jaskier shivered. “He was sadistic. He’s the one that burned my lute… and my hands…”

The memories threatened to pull him under once again, and he shook his head, trying to keep his mind present, instead of slipping back into that dark hell.

“Did he do something?” Jaskier asked. “Something to make me never forget him? Something to make the nightmares worse?”

The Witchers all stared at each other. “I don’t know,” Eskel began. “No one thought to check for magic on you. We can do so now, but… spells like that are tricky. We’d have no way of knowing.”

Next to him, Geralt winced. “There… is one person we could ask. Someone who would know about mages. And if there were any lingering curses on you.”

Jaskier’s heart sank. “No. No, no, not the witch.”

Chapter Text

The coin Yen had given him all those years ago lay forgotten in a pocket of his bag. The same bag he’d managed to pull Jaskier’s outfit out of in an attempt to cheer him up. The bag where he’d shoved all his memories after the dragon hunt.

Geralt grimaced as he picked up the coin, activating the tracking spell and allowing Yen to find him.

Now he just had to wait to see if she would.

Vesemir was glaring at them when Geralt made it down to breakfast that morning, Jaskier already sitting next to Lambert and Aiden, who were doing their best to keep him propped upright. The lack of sleep was getting to him.

“So,” Vesemir began, once Geralt was downstairs and they were all accumulated. “One of the men survived. And he was a mage. And, given that none of the rest of them were, it sounds like this may have been the man behind the entire incident, meaning he could be planning it again. Do I understand this properly?”

They all slowly nodded.

“And,” he continued, “Jaskier’s nightmares have only been getting worse, and so we’ve invited a sorceress to come here and make sure there’s no curses on Jaskier. The same sorceress responsible for Geralt’s own blunder in reasoning earlier this year. Did I understand that correctly as well?”

Geralt winced, but nodded.

Vesemir let out a heavy sigh. “Jaskier, what do you see in this idiot? Because I raised him to be better than this.”

Rude. But also justified.

Vesemir turned his attention fully to Jaskier. “Bard, when you’re done with breakfast come find me in the labs, I want to see for myself how you’re recovering physically.”

Jaskier nodded, scent spiking with nervousness, but before Geralt could speak up Eskel beat him to it. “I can go with you,” he offered. “Hold your hand if you want?”

Jaskier smiled a bit, and nodded. “That would be really nice,” he managed.

“Wolf,” Vesemir cut in before Geralt could say anything. “Go check on your girl. She’s usually down to breakfast before now.”

Right.

Geralt knocked on the door to Ciri’s room, worried when he didn’t hear anything.

He knocked again, louder. “Ciri?” Nothing. “Ciri, if you don’t answer me I have to open the door.”

He could hear her heartbeat inside the room, but that was it.

Opening the door slowly, he frowned as he saw that she was curled up in bed, her face pressed against the pillow, the scent of tears filling the air.

Fuck.

“Ciri…”

She just shook her head, burying her face into her pillow as she silently cried.

Geralt sat on the bed next to her, gently setting a hand on her shoulder.

She didn’t brush it away, so he figured it wasn’t the wrong thing to do.

“Talk to me, Ciri. What’s wrong?”

“…I miss them,” she finally whispered. “Grandma. Grandpa Eist. Mousesack. My friends back in Cintra. Why do I get to be alive, when all of them are dead?”

Oh.

It had been a long time since he’d had these feelings. But at least these were feelings he’d had before, and had some idea of how to deal with.

“Witchers don’t know, going into the trials, which of us will live or die. We train for years before we take the mutagen, learning how to fight. Watching each other grow. And just because someone survived the mutagen didn’t mean they’d survive the trials. I was one of four that survived my trials. All the others that year died. And for a very long time, I resented destiny. Fate. Everything that had let me survive while my friends died. But then… something happened.”

“You met me?” Ciri asked already sounding glum about the idea.

Geralt chuckled, and shook his head. “I met a bard. Reckless and wild, and an utter idiot… but he saw something in me. Something I thought died when my friends did.”

Ciri was staring up at him. “What was that?”

“Humanity. Or something very close to it. He saw in me what my friends had seen. What those I lost saw in me. It took a long time for me to realize it, but he made me want to be someone they could be proud of. Made me realize that if I kept living like I had been… I was just adding my name to the list of those that had died. Instead of using my life to honor them.”

“You can be smart when you put your mind to it,” Ciri commented, and Geralt frowned.

“Smart enough to recognize a backhanded compliment," he pointed out, and it made Ciri chuckled. "It’s alright to grieve the dead. But don’t wish yourself among them. You never know what day you’ll be joining them. Do so with a tale of what you did with the time they bought you.”

She was still crying, but she wasn’t shaking from it, and her scent had shifted from pain and grief to something much closer to resolve. “…I want to do something. To grieve them properly.”

“Come on. Get dressed. I’ll show you where Witchers honor our dead.”

Ciri frowned as she stared up at the tree. “Somehow, I thought you’d be showing me something I hadn’t seen before.”

Geralt shook his head. “Why go a long distance to someplace out of the way, when we all grieve?” He nodded to the medallions on the lower branches. “The ones made of wood are the trainees. We didn’t used to carve them, but Vesemir began the tradition before I was brought here. Wanted to honor their sacrifice as well. Sometimes the other trainees who survived would carve them, honoring their fallen friends, sometimes it was Vesemir. One way or another, they’d be remembered.” He nudged Ciri’s shoulder gently. “You could carve medallions for your family if you’d like.”

Ciri debated it for a moment, before tugging something out of her tunic. A scrap of fabric Geralt had seen her carrying.

She stepped forward, wrapping it gently around one of the branches. “…It was my grandmother’s,” she explained, stepping back. “It was on her when she died. It… it’s not the same, but…”

Geralt nodded. “I’ve carried back the medallions of fallen Witchers, after hunting down their bodies to make sure they made it home.”

“I think she would have liked you, if she’d ever gotten a moment to actually know you.”

Geralt shuddered, remembering Calanthe’s attempts at fliting with him during the banquet. “…We knew each other well enough,” he finally settled on. “She was a warrior. I can see much of her spirit in you. But also that of your mother’s.”

Ciri smiled a bit. “…What was she like? My mother?”

“She was-“

The medallions all vibrated, and Geralt tensed up for a moment before a portal opened up next to him, and Yennefer stepped through, pissed.

“Give me one good reason not to take that coin back and lay a curse on your head,” she growled.

Ciri stared at her. “…Is this Yennefer?” she asked, and Yennefer blinked, startled.

“Who is this?”

“Yennefer,” Geralt sighed. “Thank you for coming. This is Cirilla. Cirilla, this is Yennefer. I asked her to come.”

Yennefer stared at Ciri for a few more seconds, before turning and glaring at Geralt. “You still haven’t given me a reason not to curse you, Geralt,” she warned.

“…I’m sorry, for how things ended,” Geralt began, even though the words burned his tongue to say. “But that’s not what this is about. Jaskier needs your help.”

Something twitched in Yennefer’s eyes. “Really? I thought you were as done with him as I was with you.”

“And yet you’re here,” Geralt pointed out.

“To make sure you can’t call me again,” Yennefer snapped. “…Where is Jaskier anyway? And what does he need help with?”

There was something she wasn’t saying. Geralt had expected her to fight him on this, needing an incentive to even consider helping the bard, but she seemed more agreeable to helping him than helping Geralt.

“…A mage got to him. Aiden and Lambert rescued him two weeks ago. But we’re worried he might be cursed. Can you take a look, and help identify the mage?”

Yennefer considered it for a moment, before nodding. “Fine. I need someone to talk shit about you with anyway.”

…Something had definitely changed. 

Chapter Text

As Vesemir looked Jaskier over, Eskel made sure to hold his hand and take deep breaths with him. Vesemir kept everything non-invasive, and mostly relied on scent to make sure Jaskier wasn’t in pain.

Still, they weren’t done with the investigation when Eskel heard Geralt coming up the stairs, with Ciri and someone else.

This must be the sorceress then.

“If you want I can hug you once this is all over,” he said, and Jaskier looked up suddenly.

“What?”

But then the door was opening, and Geralt stepped in with the sorceress behind him, and Jaskier stiffened, tugging his hand out of Eskel’s and crossing his arms. “Witch.”

“Don’t give me that, bard, I’m doing you a favor.”

Vesemir and Eskel stayed back, letting this play out.

“Yennefer’s agreed to check you over for any residual spells,” Geralt explained. “If you two can try to get along without your usual animosity, that would be for the best.”

Jaskier glared at Geralt, but didn’t say anything further, and Yennefer stepped forward, muttering a few words as her hand began to glow, and she hovered the hand over Jaskier’s head. Her violet eyes glowed too, and Eskel’s medallion hummed on his chest.

Jaskier, for his part, stayed perfectly still as Yennefer worked, even though Eskel could smell the fear as Jaskier held himself like a statue.

Finally, after several minutes, Yennefer stepped back, scowling. “He’s right. There is a curse on you, though it’s not simple. It’s going to take me a little while to figure out exactly what it does.”

Jaskier swallowed. “…Did he put a tracking spell on me?” Jaskier whispered. “Can he find me again?”

Yennefer shook her head. “Tracking spells are attached to clothing or items, not people. And if he had, he’d have found you already. No, I’d say this spell has something to do with your mind. Possibly your memories.”

“Wouldn’t we notice if his memories were missing?” Geralt asked.

Yennefer shook her head. “It might not be suppressed or missing memories,” she pointed out.

Jaskier swallowed. “…Could it be making sure I never forget him?”

“That is one option, certainly. I’ll have to do some more testing to find out. It could take a few days.”

A few days. Brilliant. Eskel hoped the scent of fear eased before then.

Jaskier swallowed, but nodded. “Do what you need to,” he managed, and Eskel reached out, setting a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder.

“You’re not alone in this,” Eskel promised. “We’re right here with you.”

Jaskier smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Geralt, can I talk with you?” Yennefer asked, and Geralt sighed, but nodded, grasping Jaskier’s hand briefly before following Yennefer out.

“…He still follows at her heels,” Jaskier muttered to himself, before shaking his head. “I think that’s as much testing as I can handle for a single day,” he declared, standing up.

Vesemir nodded, “You’re healing well. You should be able to walk unassisted in the next few days, and a week after that you should be able to join us on the training grounds.”

“Delightful,” Jaskier muttered. “Ciri, I say it’s high time we take on that challenge in the library. What about you?”

Ciri offered a small smile. “You’re on.”

“I’ll join you,” Eskel offered. “To keep things fair of course.”

Not because he didn’t want to leave Jaskier alone after all of that.

Aiden found them in the library, and sank into the couch next to Jaskier, draping himself across the bard. “So why was Geralt getting yelled at by a sorceress?”

Jaskier grimaced. “They always yell at each other. Usually right before they fu-“ he stopped talking, glancing sharply at Ciri, who just sighed.

“I’m young, not unaware. I know what fucking is. I also know that’s not what they’re doing.”

“Really?” Aiden challenged. “And how do you know what they’re doing?” Jaskier also looked up properly, interested.

“Because that’s not what people sound like when they want to fuck each other,” Ciri answered easily enough. “Yennefer’s actually angry at Geralt, and Geralt didn’t seem interested in Yennefer.”

“How- you’re twelve,” Jaskier pointed out. “Why do you know these things?”

Ciri grimaced. “Grandma and Grandpa needed locks on their doors.”

They all grimaced at that.

“Right. Changing the subject,” Eskel announced. “Jaskier, it sounds like you’re going to be training with us fairly soon. Do you have any previous experience with a sword?”

Jaskier winced, but shook his head. “No… Geralt tried to teach me a few times, but… it never went well.”

Ciri nodded. “He does suck as a teacher.”

They all turned to stare at her. “What?” Aiden asked.

“Geralt. He tries, but he has no idea what he’s doing trying to teach. I honestly thought I was the first person he’d ever tried to teach till just now.”

Jaskier bit his lip, and then he started chuckling, then laughing. “Oh, oh that explains so much,” he finally managed. “I never picked up a damn thing from him! No wonder if he just sucks at training!”

Aiden and Eskel smiled a bit, but Eskel’s attention was on Jaskier. The way his scent shifted to happiness when laughing, the way his smile brightened up his eyes…

Aiden caught his gaze for a moment, and then Aiden smirked, before standing up. “Ciri, come on, I wanted to show you a dagger trick.”

Ciri glanced between Eskel and Jaskier, and grinned, and nodded.

Right.

“They’re not very subtle,” Jaskier pointed out after they’d already left the room.

“I’m afraid subtlety is a double edged sword around here,” Eskel agreed. “The people who we want to tell things to don’t listen, and the people we want to keep secrets from read us like open books.”

“Spoken like a poet.” Jaskier was staring at him, his book long forgotten.

Eskel took a breath, letting it slowly out. “Jaskier… we haven’t been very clear with you.”

“I figured most of it out,” Jaskier interrupted. “I just… well. I’ve got several questions, but only one that I can’t seem to find any answer for.”

“Ask away,” Eskel encouraged.

“…Why now? When Geralt’s around, that makes sense, you’re making him jealous, but why try to flirt with me now, when he’s not here? When he has his Witch? Is it scent? Or…” he trailed off, staring up at Eskel helplessly.

Fuck it all.

Eskel stood up, crossing over to kneel next to Jaskier on the couch, gently reaching out and cupping Jaskier’s cheek. “…We were trying to prove to Geralt that he was in love with you,” Eskel admitted. “…But what we ended up proving to ourselves was that we were too.”

Jaskier swallowed. “…Geralt doesn’t love me.”

“What he feels for you runs deeper than anything I’ve ever seen from him before,” Eskel pointed out. “You may have known him for twenty years, but I’ve known him his whole life. Love or not, what the two of you have is special.”

“Then why…?” Jaskier asked, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, and Eskel’s heart ached for him.

“Let me show you?” Eskel offered. “Let me prove to you, that what I feel for you is real too?”

Jaskier nodded, and Eskel leaned forward, kissing him fiercely. Jaskier gasped into the kiss, opening his mouth and Eskel slid their lips together, teeth gently scraping over Jaskier’s bottom lip as Jaskier moaned.

Eskel’s hand slid back, till he was cradling Jaskier’s head, holding him gently and tenderly and trying to prove with his actions just how much he cared about Jaskier. About how real his feelings for him were-

He’d gotten distracted.

Too caught up in the bliss of kissing Jaskier that he’d let the rest of the world fall away, safe in Kaer Morhen, and hadn’t been listening.

A hand gripped his shoulder, tugging him back.

“What the fuck Eskel?!” Geralt growled, and Eskel swallowed, blinking as he gasped for breath.

“Geralt, wait-“ Jaskier insisted, standing up and grabbing Geralt’s arm, holding him back.

Geralt didn’t turn to look at Jaskier. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? I never thought you’d be the type of person to-“

“Geralt I asked him to,” Jaskier snapped, and Geralt stopped, turning to stare at Jaskier.

“…what?”

Jaskier swallowed, wiping his fingers across his lips, wiping away the moisture gathered there. “…I asked him to kiss me,” Jaskier finally repeated. “Something I’ve asked you to do a thousand times, and a thousand ways, only he actually listened and said yes so maybe you need to figure out who you’re really mad at. Him, me, or yourself. But either way you need to let Eskel go. Now.”

Geralt stared, shaking, but his fingers relaxed against Eskel’s shirt, and no longer looked like he wanted to punch Eskel.

Instead, he just looked gutted.

Jaskier shakily nodded to Eskel, and then fled the library.

Fuck.

“…As if I’d ever do anything to harm our bard,” Eskel growled, brushing Geralt’s hand off of him. “He’s right. Figure your shit out, Geralt. Because at this point all you’re doing is hurting him, and we're done letting it happen.

Eskel turned on his heel and left the room, leaving Geralt standing there in silence. 

Chapter Text

Unbelievable.

It wasn’t that Jaskier was unused to being interrupted by Geralt, but this was the first time it had nearly come to blows. And yes, Jaskier understood that Geralt was trying to protect him, but…

“We were trying to prove to Geralt that he was in love with you.”

Fucking batshit crazy idea.

At least he’d figured out why the others were flirting with him, but…

“We ended up proving to ourselves that we were too.”

…Did the others feel the same? How much of their flirting was real? He’d been assuming they were all just playing a game of sorts. A fun way to pass the winter by.

But… there had been the kiss with Aiden.

“Tell me you’re not just fucking with me.”

“We’re not.”

He’d assumed then, that they were being genuine about caring about him, and were just… having fun. He often flirted with barmaids and soldiers, and while he never stayed long, he was always serious about the flirtation. He did admire them, and find them beautiful, but it was… it was never anything more. He knew what they wanted, they knew what he wanted, and they had a wonderful evening before he kept going on the path.

“Let me prove to you, that what I feel for you is real too?”

Ugh! Why were these things so complicated?!

And Geralt, he’d- he’d looked angry. Angry enough that it could almost be mistaken for jealousy except-

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”

…Even after all this time. Even after the forgiveness. Even after seeing how broken it had all made Geralt… Jaskier couldn’t forget.

The vitriol with which Geralt spat those words. The anger blazing in his eyes.

All this time, and he still couldn’t forget it. Not for even a moment.

“Bard.”

Jaskier yelped, spinning around on the stairs only to slip and fall, wincing as he landed on his ass.

Yennefer was less than impressed, glaring up at him.

“Excuse me if I’m still recovering,” Jaskier snipped as he clung to the wall to stand up. “What do you want?”

“What happened to you?”

He scowled. “That’s none of your business-“ he gulped as Yennefer took a step up the stairs.

“I’m helping you. I deserve to know.”

Jaskier scowled, but looked away. “…Some men wanted to hurt Geralt,” he explained, gritting his teeth. “They figured out I was the best way to do so.”

Yennefer stared at him for several moments, before nodding, and grasping Jaskier’s arm. “Hey, what are you-“ he tensed as magic surged through him, only to blink as he stared down at himself. “What the…”

“Hypothermia too?” Yennefer asked. “Geralt didn’t mention that. Come on, I want real answers, not whatever scraps of information I can pull from Geralt.” She started walking up the stairs, turning to grin evilly down at Jaskier from the top step. “And, given that I did just heal all your injuries, I do believe it’s my business now.”

She turned on her heel, walking further into the keep, and Jaskier blinked before following after her.

This… was odd.

Jaskier followed Yennefer to a small lab that she’d clearly taken over, and leaned against a table. “So… ah… what was that about?”

“How did you get hypothermia?” Yennefer asked, not answering his question as she worked at the other table.

Jaskier sighed, figuring it was probably for the best to just get this over with. “I took an ill-advised trip down the mountain in a blizzard.”

“Mmm. And the mage that had you, what did he want with Geralt?”

Jaskier shrugged. “To hurt him, I’m assuming. He didn’t really talk about it much.”

“And when were you taken-“

“Why do you care?” Jaskier asked, scowling, and Yennefer stopped what she was doing, turning to stare at him.

“…I looked for you.” What? “After the hunt. Thought about seducing you, to get back at Geralt.”

Jaskier grimaced. “Oh that’s never happening.”

Yennefer tilted her head. “Really? Am I not your type?”

“You once grabbed me by the balls and then blew up the building. I don’t particularly go in for that. Not to mention the part where we hate each other.”

“Begrudgingly tolerate,” Yennefer corrected. “Besides. I could make it worth your while.” Jaskier shuddered, and Yennefer frowned. “…It’s not just about me then. Unless- oh. I see.” She frowned, and Jaskier sighed.

“Yes, the bastards raped me as well as tortured me, so glad we could have this conversation, can I go now?”

Yennefer stopped, actually shocked for once. “…That’s not what I meant, but that is important to know.”

“Oh for fuck’s- what did you mean then?”

“Simply that your heart’s already invested in the Witchers here. I always suspected you were more interested in men than women, but I hadn’t realized just how poor your taste was.”

“Oy!”

“They’re Witchers, and we both know how dense they can be.”

“The others aren’t like that,” Jaskier snapped.

“And here I thought you’d be over having your heart stomped on.” Yennefer sighed, before passing over a bottle of something.

“What is this?” Jaskier asked, holding it with trepidation. “Some kind of potion? Or, poison?”

“It’s wine, idiot. You never let me finish talking.”

Jaskier uncorked the bottle. It was a good vintage.

He took a swig, letting the sweet alcohol burn away some of the memories, and motioned for Yennefer to continue.

“At first, I thought to seduce you. Then, I thought we could talk shit about Geralt together. Then I realized I couldn’t find you.”

Oh. “You were worried about me.”

“Nothing so sentimental, I was merely perturbed. I can find most people I put my mind to, and not being able to find you was… vexing. But, you’re here now, and you seem to have made things up with Geralt, so there’s not much more I need from you. The mountain must be nothing but a distant memory, given everything.”

Jaskier frowned, downing as much of the wine as he could.

Yennefer scowled at him. “That’s a good wine, I’m not sharing it with you to just for you to drink it down like so much ale.”

Jaskier shook his head, pleased when the fog lingered. “…Haven’t forgotten it,” Jaskier finally admitted. “I want to. But I can’t. It’s… stuck. In my head. Some days it’s the only thing I can think about.”

“Really? After all this time?”

Jaskier grimaced. “It may just have been another breakup to you, what with your… looks, and your scary evil eyes, but it was the culmination of twenty years of my short life. All of it. And it meant nothing. Tossed aside… He’s asked for my forgiveness, and I’ve granted it, but… I can’t stop thinking about it. It haunts me. Some days I swear I can still hear him, yelling at me- what are you doing?”

Yennefer was tracing a hand along his head, her fingers glowing, and he flinched back. “Relax, bard. I just had an idea about the curse. I want to see if I’m right.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, taking another swig of the alcohol as Yennefer’s magic poked at his mind.

The memory of that horrible day sprung to mind, and the rejection and heartbreak that came with it.

“How fascinating…” Yennefer muttered to herself, but her hand stopped glowing.

“What?” Jaskier asked, curious despite himself.

“I’ve figured out the curse,” she said smugly. “You’re not cursed to lose memories, you’re cursed to never forget something. Not your torturer. Geralt. I imagine he was poking around in your mind, looking for information on Geralt, and so he locked those memories at the front of your thoughts so he could access them easier. You must have been rescued before he could undo it.”

Jaskier stared at her. “…So I’m cursed to never forget the damn mountain?!”

Chapter Text

Geralt couldn’t move.

“I asked him to kiss me.”

“Something I’ve asked you to do a thousand times, and a thousand ways.”

No, but- Jaskier always smelled of arousal. And he stopped trying to flirt with Geralt after those first few months on the road.

“I thought you were as done with him as I was with you.”

“Well, Wolf? Are you going to hold our bard through the night again?”

“There a reason you’re so fucking protective of the bard that you won’t let me pull a feather from his hair without looking like you want to gut me?”

What does a monster want with such a pretty toy?

…Everyone knew.

Everyone fucking knew.

How had he not seen it?

Jaskier always came back to him.

Always.

How had he not understood what that kind of loyalty meant?

And then…

And then Jaskier’d tried to make it down the killer in a blizzard to get away from him.

He’d known he still had so much to apologize for. But…

…He slept through Jaskier’s nightmares. Too caught up in the scent of Jaskier, the feeling of having him safe in his arms, here in Kaer Morhen, that he’d been sleeping through the horrible nightmares.

Jaskier had been raped. By men who were trying to hurt Geralt. And knew exactly what Jaskier meant to Geralt.

Better than Geralt knew, apparently.

Gods, did the entire continent know? That put Jaskier in too much danger, He was supposed to be safe-

He was distracting himself.

Finally, Geralt took a seat on the couch, surrounded by the scent of Jaskier.

And Eskel.

They’d been kissing.

Jaskier… had wanted to kiss Eskel.

Had been flirting with the others, who’d been flirting with him.

He’d been so angry. Had assumed the worst, but…

He hadn’t been relieved, when he found out Jaskier had initiated.

He’d felt… betrayed? Why? What right did he have to who Jaskier slept with? So long as it didn’t get them chased out of a town, it didn’t matter. Jaskier could live his life as he chose. There was no one safer for him to sleep with than the other Witchers here in Kaer Morhen. Hell, Geralt knew from long ago that they would treat Jaskier better than anyone else Jaskier would get the chance to hook up with.

…But he still didn’t want that.

Or… rather…

He didn’t want to be left out of it.

The thought was quiet. A voice he’d usually ignore. But how long had he been ignoring it?

Was it only that he didn’t want to get chased out of town? Or was it that he didn’t want someone else kissing Jaskier?

His thoughts ground to a halt.

Kissing Jaskier.

What would the bard’s lips feel like against his own?

Would he let out that soft sigh he’d overheard so many times before? Could Geralt make him whimper, the way he sometimes did? What would he smell like during his peak?

…Oh gods.

Those weren’t thoughts that someone thought about their friend.

How long had he wanted to know these things? How long had he desired Jaskier?

And did Jaskier still want him, or was it too late?

He got to his feet, running out of the library and focusing on Jaskier’s scent, only to stop.

There was anger in Jaskier’s lingering scent.

Right.

He needed to apologize for that too.

Fuck, he had so much to make up for.

He could only hope that he still had time.

Walking quickly, he followed Jaskier’s scent, only to stop as he heard steps heading towards him.

Rapidly.

What was-

He barely managed to catch Jaskier as he rounded a bend in the stairs too fast, unaware of Geralt’s presence.

“Fuck!” Jaskier swore, balancing himself on Geralt’s arms as Geralt stood steady on the stairs, not letting either of them fall. “Geralt, good, just who I was looking for.”

He was?

Before he could feel pleased about being the one Jaskier was searching for, the bard kept talking. “Yennefer’s figured out the curse. It’s the mountain. The mage cursed me to never forget it.”

Geralt’s heart sank into his feet.

“Fuck.”

Yennefer was waiting for them in one of the spare labs she’d taken over, and raised an eyebrow as they entered. “That took less time than expected,” she remarked, but Jaskier waved her off, tugging Geralt into the room.

“You said you could fix this if he was here,” Jaskier insisted.

“I said I’d need him here to fix it,” Yennefer corrected. “I'm making this up as I go.”

She continued working on what she’d been doing when he entered the room, and Geralt glanced over at Jaskier.

“You haven’t… been able to forget the mountain? This entire time?” Geralt asked. “Not even for a moment?”

Jaskier shook his head. “No. It never leaves my mind.”

What right did Geralt have to ask anything of him, when he’d fucked up so much already?

Jaskier glanced over at Geralt, and tried to smile, reaching out and holding his hand. “It’s alright. I know you didn’t mean it. It’s just a curse.”

“How- my words were used to torture you,” Geralt managed. “You’re still being tortured with them.”

“It wasn’t to torture him,” Yennefer pointed out, “it was to find information about you.”

“That’s worse,” Geralt growled.

Jaskier reached up, cupping Geralt’s cheek and smiling gently at him. “I’m alright,” he promised. “And, after this, I’ll finally be able to move on.”

Right.

Moving forward.

Geralt took a breath. “Jaskier, I-“

“And that’s the components complete,” Yennefer interrupted. “Jaskier, I need you to stand facing Geralt, and holding his hands. I’m going to cast a spell that should allow you to dislodge your memories of Geralt from the forefront of your mind, and hopefully stop thinking about that disaster of a hunt.”

Jaskier nodded, taking a stand in front of Yennefer, and reaching for Geralt.

Geralt clasped his hands, feeling the warmth of them in his palms as Jaskier smiled at him.

“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Jaskier asked.

Right. There’d be time to talk later. Even though the feeling of Jaskier’s hands in his own made his mind scream at him, he stood still as Yennefer worked.

She chanted something, holding components in her hand that began to smoke, filling the space between them as Geralt thought about their last several years together.

The times he woke up to Jaskier curled into his side. The times Jaskier helped him bathe. The moments in Jaskier’s songs, where it felt like the bard was singing to him, and him alone. All the tiny moments where Geralt dismissed the idea that Jaskier could ever have feelings for him.

No more. He was done ignoring what he saw.

The chanting ended, and Yennefer nodded. “That’s the spell.”

Jaskier blinked, looking around himself, and Geralt was done waiting.

He stepped forward, into Jaskier’s space, cupping his cheek and tilting his head up.

Actions were his strength, not words, but he needed to get some words out.

“Let me?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier nodded slowly, eyes wide.

He leaned forward, pressing his lips gently against Jaskier’s, trying to speak all the words trapped in his head through that single kiss. The love, he’d only just realized. The fear of losing Jaskier. The way he never wanted to let go of him. The way he wanted to answer all of Jaskier’s pleas for kisses, and so much more.

He pulled back, and sighed. “…Forgive me. I’ve been blind to this.”

Jaskier blinked. “…That… was a very nice kiss,” he began hesitantly. “I’m so sorry, but- who are you?”

What.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Yennefer groaned behind them. 

Chapter Text

He’d never seen Eskel angry before. The gentle Witcher always seemed to be a steady force in the uncertainty that was the keep, but he stormed down to the main hall, teeth gritted as he made his way out to the training fields, and Aiden barely had to think before he was following after him.

“Eskel- wait, Eskel,” Aiden called, jogging to catch up with him.

Eskel didn’t slow down, making it to the training grounds and heading for one of the obstacle courses.

“Is that wise?” Aiden asked.

“You’re spotting for me, aren’t you?” Eskel asked, the first words Aiden had heard from him since he’d come down the stairs.

“Of course I am but what happened?”

He didn’t get an answer immediately.

Instead, Eskel ran through the obstacle course five times, taking risks Aiden wouldn’t have taken, until finally he stopped running and leaned against the wall, panting for breath as steam poured off of him.

Aiden didn’t comment, instead leaning against the wall next to Eskel. “Want to tell me what that was about?”

“I kissed Jaskier.”

Aiden blinked. “Alright… and why does that mean you want to kill someone?”

“Geralt interrupted us.”

Oh fuck. “How did that go down?”

Eskel shook his head. “…Jaskier went off on Geralt. I did too, a little.”

“So… Geralt knows now?”

Eskel laughed, shaking his head. “Oh, no, I don’t think he’s ever going to figure it out. He’s in complete denial about the whole thing-“

“You two need to get in here!” Lambert hollered from the main door.

Aiden and Eskel glanced over at him. “…What now?”

They all frowned as they gathered around Jaskier, who was staring around himself in utter confusion.

“How much of his memory is gone?” Aiden asked.

Yennefer shook her head. “It’s… unclear. Every memory of Geralt has been suppressed, but he has memories, just… not many. And apparently I'm not in any of them either.”

“Do you remember us?” Lambert asked, and Jaskier slowly nodded.

“Sort of? I remember… you rescued me. And I remember waking up here. I remember you’ve been helping me, I just… there’s… gaps. My entire life is full of them.”

“It's Geralt,” Yennefer explained. “You’ve been following him for twenty years. Any memory that had him, and possibly even those that just had to do with him. They’re all gone.”

All memories of Geralt.

Damn.

Jaskier turned apologetically to Geralt, who was standing awkwardly by, frowning. “I did mean it, that was a very nice kiss.”

“What?!” Lambert blurted out, and Yennefer sighed.

“Oh, yes, after the spell Geralt decided to kiss Jaskier.” She grinned smugly. “Have fun unpacking that mess, I’m going to keep working on seeing where this spell went wrong.”

Aiden and Eskel shared a look of stunned silence, as Lambert stared intently at Jaskier.

Geralt cleared his throat. “I… I asked, if I could kiss you… why did you say yes if you didn’t know me?!”

Jaskier shrugged. “Have you seen you?”

He glanced around the room, opening his mouth, and then closing it again, before frowning. “Wait… how many people here have I not kissed?”

Vesemir sighed and left the room, and then Lambert stared in confusion as he was the only person to raise his hand.

“…When did you kiss Aiden?” Geralt asked.

Aiden cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. “Ah- yesterday,” he admitted.

“That was yesterday?” Jaskier sat back, frowning. “…I have no concept of time right now.”

“Well, you have no memories,” Aiden pointed out.

“And, Yennefer healed your injuries, so your body’s gone through several weeks of healing in a matter of minutes,” Geralt pointed out.

“She did what?” Lambert asked.

Eskel cleared his throat. “It’s about a month into winter,” he answered. “What… do you remember about today?”

“I remember us kissing,” Jaskier offered. “…I don’t remember anything past that, till I was in the labs with Yennefer and Geralt.”

Right. Eskel and Jaskier had kissed.

This was getting complicated.

“If no one minds explaining,” Jaskier began slowly, “does anyone mind telling me what I was rescued from?”

Oh fuck.

Eskel took over explaining things to Jaskier, stepping to the side and quietly talking to him about the horrors he’d lived through.

Geralt sat down next to Lambert and Aiden. “…So. You’ve all kissed my- you’ve all kissed Jaskier.”

“I haven’t yet,” Lambert pointed out. “…But I would have if he’d offered.”

Geralt glanced between Lambert and Aiden. “You two… aren’t you…?”

Aiden figured he could forgive Geralt’s lack of wording at this moment, given the chaotic nature of the day. “We’re open to others joining our relationship, with one of us or both.” he explained. “So long as we’re both aware of it.”

Geralt slowly nodded. “…You knew. How I felt about him.”

“Yeah, we did,” Lambert chuckled. “And you had no fucking clue.”

“…Is that why you did what you did?”

“You mean is that why we showed your bard what it means to have someone seduce him for a change?” Aiden asked, “Yes it is.”

“Well. I know now, what he means to me. You don’t have to keep it up.”

“Who said we were keeping it up for you?” Lambert challenged. “We started flirting with him to prove a point to you, yeah. But it’s gone way beyond that now.” Lambert grinned at Geralt. “Step up your game, Wolf. You’ve had twenty years to seduce him. It’s our turn now.”

Geralt’s eye twitched. “You want to do that? Try to steal him away from me?”

“You haven’t exactly noticed it for the last week,” Aiden pointed out. “We’ve been flirting with him this whole time, to the point where he started flirting back. He was convinced you didn’t see him as anything but a friend. Can’t steal him away from you if he’s not yours.”

“Ahem.”

They all looked up, not having noticed that Eskel and Jaskier were done talking, and now Jaskier was standing at the end of the table, his arms crossed as Eskel pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Who, exactly, is stealing who?” Jaskier asked, smirking. “If I’m not mistaken, three of the four of you have kissed me in the last two days.”

They all slowly nodded.

“Right then.” Jaskier walked across, before sitting himself down in Lambert’s lap, grinning down at him. “Shall we make this even for everyone?” he asked, and Lambert just nodded, unable to say anything else.

Jaskier leaned in, gently kissing Lambert as Lambert’s hands rested on Jaskier’s hips, ever so gentle, and Aiden could have sworn it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Jaskier pulled back, and smiled a bit. “There. Now it’s even.”

…What?

Jaskier stood up, spinning so his coat flared behind him for a moment, and grinned. “Alright then. Let’s make this official, shall we? None of us know how long it’s going to be till Yennefer fixes my memories. So, until that happens, you all have almost even footing. Geralt’s known me for twenty years, so he has the knowledge, but I don’t remember a moment of it with him. And while I do remember the rest of you, you’ve all known me for a matter of days.”

“Weeks,” Eskel corrected.

“Week,” Jaskier nodded. “You all want to seduce me? Fine. Give it your best shot. You have till Yennefer fixes my memories to convince me. Once my memories are back, I’ll make my decision, and then the rest of you will put this whole thing to rest once and for all. Does that sound like something you all can do?”

“A competition for your heart?” Aiden asked. “Rather ballsy of you.”

“I’m that confident,” Jaskier grinned.

“Good to see the lacking memories didn’t change your personality,” Eskel commented, chuckling. “…Alright. I’m in.”

Aiden and Lambert shared a look, each of them nodding. “As are we,” Lambert agreed.

“We’ll make it completely fair and flirt separately,” Aiden offered.

Geralt stared at all of them, before looking back up at Jaskier.

What must it be like, to look at someone you’ve known for decades, and have them not recognize you?

Aiden didn’t want to think about how heartbroken he’d bee if Lambert lost his memories of their time together.

“…I will win your heart,” Geralt declared. “I’m in.”

Jaskier grinned. “Well then. Best of luck to you all.” 

Chapter Text

Jaskier blinked, standing in the doorway of his room. “…Can I help you?” he asked Geralt.

“You- the nightmares?” Geralt asked, sitting on Jaskier’s bed.

“…What nightmares? And why does that explain why you’re in my bed?”

Geralt cleared his throat, standing up. “You’ve… been having nightmares. Since you were rescued. I- couldn’t be sure if the spell meant you wouldn’t have those nightmares or not, given that you don’t remember the torture, so…”

He crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, you were planning on just… sleeping in here tonight? To protect me from the nightmares?”

“…Essentially,” Geralt managed.

“I don’t think that’s terribly fair to the others,” Jaskier pointed out. “That gives you an advantage.”

Geralt grimaced, moving past Jaskier. “Fine, I can go-“

Before he could leave, Jaskier put a hand on his chest, keeping him back, fascinated as Geralt let him. “…No. No, don’t leave. Stay. This night. But tomorrow night it’ll be one of the others.”

Geralt gaped, staring at him. “You… what?”

“You seem to think that I need protected in my sleep, and clearly I’m not a valid judge of whether or not that’s true, given my memories, but I’m not about to let you have an advantage over the others. So you’ll take turns. Unless, one of them wants to forfeit that advantage.”

He remembered enough with his time with the other Witchers to know they could hear this conversation, and after a moment Geralt shook his head. “They’ve agreed.”

“Well then. Get in here.”

Jaskier made his way over to his bed, shrugging off his clothes before pausing.

Staring.

“Jask…”

“Do you know what these are from?” Jaskier asked, staring down at his arms, his chest, and the numerous scars littering them. “…It’s… strange, not recognizing my own body.”

“Only some of them,” Geralt explained, stepping up behind him and gently turning his arm over, running his fingers over a silver line over Jaskier’s left arm. “A tavern brawl. A farmer insulted me.” He then brought his hand down to Jaskier’s stomach, to a small sliver along his side, and Jaskier tried to not shiver at the brush of Geralt’s thumb along the scar. “A bruxa you got too close to. It tried to take your stomach.” Then Geralt picked up Jaskier’s right hand, gently tracing his fingers along the back of it, the contact sending thrills down Jaskier’s cock. “Another bard you accused of stealing your songs.”

“…The burns?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt shook his head.

“You didn’t have them at the start of the year. I have to assume it was the people who took you. Along with most of your scars.”

Jaskier nodded.

He remembered seeing some of the scars before, in glimpses, but… he didn’t remember getting them.

Twenty years of his life.

How close were they, that Jaskier couldn’t remember his own body, it was so intrinsically connected to the memory of Geralt?

“We should sleep,” Geralt advised, but he still hadn’t stepped away from Jaskier’s back.

“…Am I the same?” Jaskier whispered. “Have… have I changed?”

“A bit,” Geralt admitted. “But… you’ve changed a lot in the last year. I haven’t seen all of it.”

Jaskier shook his head. “I barely remember it. Just… flirting with people, drowning an ache in my chest… I can’t remember what that ache was though.”

“Me,” Geralt answered, finally stepping back and Jaskier took the opportunity to grab his sleep clothes. “We had… a fight. I said things I shouldn’t have said. You suffered for it.”

“You regret it?” Jaskier asked, after tugging on his clothes and turning around, finding that Geralt had taken off his own shirt, and didn’t appear to be putting another one on.

“Of course I do.” Geralt frowned. “What?”

“Do you always sleep without a shirt on?”

Geralt paused, and grimaced. “I… can put one on-“

“No, no, it’s fine, just… wasn’t expecting that.”

“…Witcher temperatures are different. You… used to say it helped you fight off the chill.”

“Did I now?” Jaskier grinned a bit to himself as he took in the muscled god of a man who was about to sleep next to him, shirtless. Those abs, those pecs, those biceps- “What are your scars from?” he asked, and Geralt sighed.

“Get in bed and I’ll tell you.”

“Yes sir,” Jaskier agreed in an instant, sliding into bed and patting the space next to him.

Whatever god had blessed him with this, he was infinitely grateful to them.

Geralt let out another heavy sigh. “Usually, you prefer to sleep closer to the door, so you don’t feel caged in.”

Oh.

Jaskier scooted over, and grinned as this meant Geralt had to climb over him to get to his own space.

Blessed indeed.

“Come on, tell me,” Jaskier encouraged, and Geralt nodded as he settled into place, one arm out towards Jaskier.

Jaskier easily settled into place, lying with his back to Geralt’s chest, shocked at the feeling of rightness that came with it.  

He really didn’t understand their previous relationship.

“Selkimore,” Geralt began, pointing at scars on his arm. “Werewolf, griffin-“

“Can you tell me the story behind them?” Jaskier asked. “I got more details from my scars. I want stories, Geralt. You must know this about me by now.”

“I do. And I also know that I’ve told you these stories, at least a hundred times.”

“So maybe telling them to me again will help my memories come back,” Jaskier argued. “Start over. Selkimore. What on the bloody continent is a selkimore?”

With another heavy sigh, Geralt obliged.

“I thought you were supposed to be a whore! Leaving a trail of broken hearts and pleased bodies behind you!” Someone laughed, fingers digging into him as he cried out. “What’s so special about you? Is that why he hasn’t come for you yet? You couldn’t please him? Did he get bored of you, bard?”

“Shut up,” he cried, and those fingers turned to fire inside of him, reminding him that once again, his words weren’t wanted.

“Do I need to burn your tongue again for you to remember your place?” that voice asked.

Never a face. Always a voice.

He was alone this time. It had to be night, there was no light from the door, and the mage was alone with him.

These were the moments he feared the most.

There was nothing the mage wouldn’t do to him in these moments, and Jaskier wasn’t looking forward to what new part of his body he could set on fire.

“Maybe next time I shouldn’t bother to prep you at all. Maybe pulling my cock out of you bloody might make this more interesting.”

How could a voice so soft promise such cruelty?

“Should I keep you, once this is all over? I’ve never kept someone before. Fulfilled my contract and moved on… but I could keep you. Take you back with me, somewhere no one will ever find you again.” The voice chuckled. “There’s a few monsters I’ve been collecting. Maybe I could give you to them. Not to eat, of course. To fuck. Would you like that, Jaskier?” The fingers slid out of him, and the mage’s hand traveled to his stomach. “You were a Witcher’s whore. Would you scream for other monsters? Would you like to find out how deep a chort’s cock could get inside of you? How far the seed of a drowner might reach? Or maybe we should take you out and let a wild pack of them have you? Might even find a rusalka to take you. Would you like that?” Fingers dug into Jaskier’s cheeks. “Answer me, whore.”

“N-no,” Jaskier whimpered.

“Then stop being so boring and scream for me!”

Jaskier screamed as the mage’s cock slammed into him, and the mage laughed-

“Jaskier!”

Jaskier gasped awake, tears streaming down his face as he whimpered, clutching at his stomach.

Geralt was next to him, hand on his cheek, staring down at him. “Are you alright? What did you-“

Jaskier rolled over, and threw up onto the floor.

“Jask- Jask do you know where you are?” Geralt asked, and Jaskier shakily nodded, heaving in breaths.

“That- that was horrible,” he whispered. “Fuck- please tell me he’s dead?” Geralt didn’t say anything, and Jaskier looked up to find Geralt looking away from him, frowning. “…Geralt?”

“…The mage got away,” Geralt admitted, and Jaskier grit his teeth, trying not to sob.

“He- tell me he can never find me?” Jaskier asked. “Please, please tell me he can’t ever find me again.”

“We’ll keep you safe,” Geralt promised. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

It was the best he could get.

He could feel it, in his chest. Geralt wouldn’t lie to him.

But that meant he also wouldn’t tell him something just to make him feel better. Not unless it didn’t matter anymore.

“…What do you know? Of what he did to me?” Jaskier asked, unable to stop the tears.

Geralt shook his head, tugging Jaskier closer to his chest. “He will never hurt you again,” Geralt promised.

Jaskier just cried harder, clinging to Geralt’s chest.

That was what was missing from his memories.

That nightmare had happened.

That was the pain he’d lived through, that he’d been brought to Kaer Morhen to recover from.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to get his memories back anymore. 

Chapter Text

Lambert grimaced as he came down the stairs the next morning to the smell of misery and fear once again. “The fuck happened now?” he groaned, crossing over to see Geralt with an arm wrapped around Jaskier’s shoulders.

“Nightmare,” Geralt answered. “A bad one. We might still need to cast Somne during his sleep, even without his memories.”

Jaskier didn’t even say anything, just holding on to Geralt’s leg under the table as he ate.

Lambert grabbed his food and then hesitated, but then Jaskier looked up, staring at him with wide red-rimmed eyes. “Please?” Jaskier asked, holding out his free hand, and Lambert was helpless to deny him anything, crossing over and sitting next to Jaskier as Jaskier clung to his leg, his hand shaking. “…I still remember you,” he whispered. “Not all of it, but… the parts without Geralt, I’m sure.”

“What was the nightmare about?” he asked, and Jaskier shook his head, nudging Geralt’s shoulder.

“Threats the mage made,” Geralt explained. “Involving monsters. And… what ways he’d use Jaskier to ‘entertain’ the monsters.”

Oh.

That was fucking miserable.

“I… could use your help in the labs? With the potions? If you still wanted too…” he trailed off, but Jaskier nodded.

“That sounds nice,” he agreed. “I could use the distraction. Thank you.”

He glanced up over Jaskier’s head, but Geralt was nodding at him, apparently approving of this plan.

Right then.

At least once they were working together in the labs, the scent of fear had eased some. Jaskier stayed quiet for a while as they worked, staring vacantly at the ingredients as he prepared them.

He wasn’t as proficient as he’d seemed the last time they were in the labs, but Lambert had a feeling that had more to do with his lack of memories. His knowledge of potions would likely be directly connected to his time with Geralt, after all.

After a while, Jaskier finally spoke. “There’s… not much I remember, about being here, but… I remember you… carrying me through a blizzard?”

Lambert nodded. “You were pretty upset with Geralt, and when he came up to Kaer Morhen, you decided to try to leave, through a blizzard. You were half frozen when I found you.”

Jaskier nodded slowly. “…am I safe here?” he finally asked, and Lambert looked up properly, setting down the pestle he’d been working with.

“Of course you are.” He reached over, gently setting a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “Bard, we won’t let anything happen to you. And if anyone gives you any grief, come find me. I’ll deal with them.”

Jaskier offered him a small smile. “…I don’t remember being a bard,” he admitted. “I remember studying in Oxenfurt. I remember setting out to perform, and I remember a few performances, and then… nothing. I don’t remember the last twenty years of my career.”

“We’ll get it fixed,” Lambert promised. “That witch of Geralt’s may be terrifying, but she’s damn competent.”

“That I seem to remember, somehow,” Jaskier chuckled, shaking a bit as he did so. Still, his scent was more amused than sad now, and Lambert was counting that as a win. “The… ah… the potions we’re working on right now. What do they do?”

Lambert nodded, leaning into the distraction, explaining in detail what each potion did, what each ingredient contributed, and the importance of preparing the ingredients properly.

As he talked, Jaskier started smiling a bit more, coming out of his shell again, and seemingly forgetting about those nightmares.

If only Lambert could forget about it as well.

Eskel was off reading poetry with the bard as the others gathered around the table in the hall, discussing the latest development.

“If the mage has monsters, can we hunt him down using them?” Aiden asked.

Geralt shook his head. “The only monsters Jaskier’s sure were mentioned were a chort and a drowner, and those are both easy enough to find anywhere. They don’t have any specific needs. Though, he did mention trying to find a rusalka, so he could be near water.”

“Right,” Lambert snorted. “So he’s not in a desert. That helps so much.”

“We need to accept that this mage will probably come after Jaskier again,” Aiden sighed. “We need to be ready. And we need to make sure Jaskier’s safe above all else. Do we have any dimeritium?”

“I can check the armory,” Lambert offered. “But there hasn’t been much call for it. We know how to kill mages easily enough without it.”

“Even if we give Jaskier a dimeritium dagger, he wouldn’t know how to use it,” Geralt pointed out.

“Vesemir said he’d train the bard once he was healed,” Lambert pointed out. “Your witch at least healed his injuries, before taking his mind.”

Geralt bristled. “My witch?”

“Oh come on, it’s obvious to all of us. Why are you trying to start something with your bard when you’re still reeling from the relationship you had with your witch? Figure out who you want, Geralt!”

“You just want me out of the way so you can have Jaskier all to yourself. Your cat not enough for you, Lamb?”

“Enough,” Aiden insisted, coming between the two of them. “None of this helps Jaskier. Eskel’s with him tonight, he’ll cast Somne to make sure Jaskier sleeps through the night, and tomorrow we’ll have him join us in the training grounds. We’ll take a look around, and if there is a dimeritium weapon in the armory we can train him on how to use it, and if there isn’t then we’ll just teach him standard weaponry, and hand to hand combat. Alright?”

Geralt nodded tersely, and Lambert also nodded.

Aiden was once again the voice of reason to Lambert’s temper, and Lambert took a few breaths before relaxing his stance.

“I don’t give a fuck if Jaskier doesn’t choose me at the end of this,” he muttered. “I just want him to finally be happy. And I doubt that he would be with you, given your history.”

He turned and walked away, heading out to the training fields. He’d missed training that morning, keeping an eye on Jaskier, and he wasn’t about to let his skills rust.

Ciri was the one who found him, watching him run the obstacle courses with interest, and once he finished his round he hopped down, nodding to her. “Heard that Aiden helped you train this morning.”

“He did. He likes you a lot,” Ciri commented. “…But you’re trying to seduce Jaskier?”

Oh, this was going to be a tough conversation. “You don’t like small talk, do you?” he asked.

“I’ve been traveling with Geralt for the last month, I figured this would be expected.”

He chuckled, nodding. “That’s fair enough. You’re right. Aiden and I are together. And we’re both trying to seduce Jaskier.”

Ciri frowned, crossing her arms as she sorted through this in her mind. “Why?”

“Because he deserves good things.”

“That- that doesn’t add up.”

Lambert chuckled, leaning back and thinking it over. “…Aiden and I are open with our relationship. I’m sure that’s part of your question right there. We know we love each other, but that love doesn’t grow weaker just because we also love others. We just ask that we each know that the other’s going to be pursuing someone else. And as for why Jaskier…” Lambert tilted his head, thinking back to their flirting the last few days, before… everything. “…I want him to be happy. And I’m damn selfish enough to think that it could be with me and Aiden. Or just one of us if that’s what he wants. But I want to see him smile. I want to make him laugh. To try and give him just a bit of the peace he’s given us Witchers in the last few years.”

Ciri nodded slowly. “I… think I understand. But why did you turn it into a competition?”

Lambert shrugged. “It’s winter and we get bored.”

“Alright.” She grinned. “Bet I could get Vesemir and Yennefer in on betting on it,” she commented, and then she was running off as Lambert stared after her.

…Well.

It was certainly going to be less boring than winters in the past had been. 

Chapter Text

He’d been reading poetry.

How had it turned into this?!

It had been a simple book of Elven poetry, and Eskel was delighted to learn that even without half his memories, Jaskier still spoke Elder, and they’d been reading the poems back and forth to each other and now-

Now Jaskier was straddling his lap, kissing him gently, the book discarded somewhere behind him as his hands clung to Jaskier’s hips.

Geralt was going to kill him.

He couldn’t think about that, not with the way Jaskier’s lips met his, teasing out groans from him as he clung to Jaskier with everything he had, the scent of the incredible bard invading his senses as his lips pressed against his own-

And such lips. Firm against his own but so fucking soft, gentle as the bard and perfect as Jaskier tilted his head, pressing even closer against Eskel-

He forced himself to tilt his head to the side, gasping for breath as Jaskier smiled sweetly down at him, one hand brushing Eskel’s hair back, the other delicate where he cupped the scars on his cheeks.

“I don’t remember you getting this flustered the last time we kissed,” Jaskier whispered gently, and Eskel managed a nervous laugh.

“Last time we were interrupted,” Eskel pointed out, though as Geralt had interrupted them, that would be another lost memory. “I had less time to get in my own head.”

Jaskier laughed, grinning down at him like a thousand fucking suns. “Oh? Do I make you get lost in your head, mighty Witcher?” He leaned down, till his lips were just barely out of reach. “Allow me to pull you out again,” he whispered, before kissing Eskel again.

Eskel couldn’t hold back the groan as Jaskier kissed him, pressing forward against him, holding him tight, hand skimming down Eskel’s shirt-

“Jaskier,” he managed, breaking the kiss, even as Jaskier kissed his way down the scars on Eskel’s cheek- and gods when was the last time someone had kissed his scars- had they ever? “Jaskier, stop,” he insisted, and Jaskier pulled back, confused.

“I- Eskel?”

Eskel took a moment, taking a few breaths as he gathered his thoughts. “I… I- fuck I want to- but not like this,” he managed. “You… you still don’t have your memories. As we learned last night, your memories of your time at those men’s hands is not well buried.” Jaskier’s scent soured a bit, but then he was smiling, wrapping his arm around Eskel’s shoulder.

“It’s sweet that you worry for me,” Jaskier whispered, fingers scratching gently at Eskel’s scalp- fuck but that felt good- “but I promise I’m fine.”

Eskel shook his head again. “Jaskier, no. Not until I know you remember what happened to you. You’re missing half your mind right now, bard. What if it’s the half that would object?”

Jaskier let out a heavy sigh, slumping against Eskel. “Then it would have to contend with this half, that absolutely wants you to fuck me,” Jaskier groaned. “But I won’t push if you’re truly uncomfortable with it.”

“Thank you.”

Eskel rested his hand on Jaskier’s leg, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles into his thigh, and Jaskier rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “It’s not fair that you won’t fuck me and yet still tease me,” Jaskier complained, and Eskel chuckled.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Never.”

“Some of us would,” Lambert called from his room, and Eskel chuckled.

“Something to share?” Jaskier asked.

“It seems my competition is getting jealous,” he called back.

“Oh I’ll show you competition,”

Eskel gave Jaskier a rueful smile. “It seems we might be interrupted shortly.”

The grin he got back was as mischievous as a damn faerie. “Shall we give him something to interrupt?”

Eskel grinned, and then Jaskier was kissing him again, the world fading out as Eskel held Jaskier close, enjoying his warmth for the last few moments before-

“That’s got to be against the rules,” Lambert snarked, pulling Jaskier back with a grip on his doublet.

Jaskier just smirked up at Lambert. “Why, are you feeling left out? I don’t see you seducing me with Elven poetry.”

“Are you asking me to seduce you?” Lambert asked, and Jaskier-

Fuck. He smelled of nothing but arousal. “I do believe that was the point of this whole game, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t recall seducing each other on top of one another being mentioned,” Eskel pointed out, and Jaskier turned his heated gaze back to Eskel, grinning where he was still kneeling over Eskel’s thighs.

“Isn’t that the best type of seduction?”

Eskel blushed, and Lambert blinked. “…What are you saying, bard?”

“All these years together, haven’t you ever gotten together with each other?”

Eskel swallowed, gently slipping out from under Jaskier and standing up. “That was a long time ago, Jask,” he managed, not looking at Lambert as he left the library, leaving the two of them alone, feeling Lambert’s gaze on him as he left.

Fuck he was still worked up.

Even heading down to the hot springs did nothing to clear his head, and after he’d bathed he made his way back to his room.

He still had a few hours before dinner, and after that he’d be watching Jaskier through his sleep-

Ugh. How was he supposed to do that when his body was hard as a rock just thinking about the bard?

…He should address it.

First he made sure his door was locked, and then he leaned back on his bed, closing his eyes and thinking about how Jaskier had felt in his arms. How soft his lips had been against his own, the smell of arousal that had clung to him, the feeling of his body pressed against his-

Fuck.

Eskel undid his pants, pulling out his cock and letting his head fall back as he slowly stroked his cock, mind hazy with thoughts of the bard.

Jaskier had wanted to pleasure him. What would that have been like? How would the bard’s hands have felt around Eskel’s cock? Would he have used his mouth? What clever tricks did that clever tongue know? And what about Jaskier, would he have fallen apart under Eskel’s careful care? What would Eskel’s name sound like, falling from those lips in the throes of pleasure-

Eskel’s peak slammed into him, and he lay there for several moments, breathing as the pleasure lingered on in his mind.

…Fuck.

That… was dangerous. They were all interested in the bard, after all. He couldn’t get too attached. Jaskier might not pick him.

Hell, he knew Jaskier would choose Geralt. Knew how much it would break Geralt if he didn’t. But there was a very selfish part of him that didn’t care. That wanted Jaskier to choose him-

“All these years together, haven’t you ever gotten together with each other?”

…Maybe. Maybe Jaskier would want to be shared. Or to share them.

He shook his head, sitting up and setting to cleaning himself up.

Those thoughts were as fantastical as the thoughts he’d just peaked to. Once he regained his memories, Jaskier would remember being in love with Geralt. That was all there was to it. This was…

Well.

This was just forcing Geralt to actually be in love with his bard.

He was already expecting it when Jaskier grabbed his hand after dinner, pulling him upstairs to his room.

He wasn’t expecting Jaskier to tug him over towards the bed.

“Jaskier, I’m still not sleeping with you without your memories,” he pointed out, and Jaskier wrinkled his nose.

“Rude, as if I wouldn’t seduce someone before dragging them into my bed. But Geralt held me through the night last night, so tonight it’s your turn. Like I said, we’re keeping things even.”

“I can just use Somne to make sure you sleep,” Eskel pointed out, and Jaskier paused, turning to face him.

“Are you saying you don’t want to hold me?” he asked, and Eskel paused, before letting out a heavy sigh.

“…You know damn well what you’re doing,” he pointed out, but got into bed, holding the blankets open for Jaskier to climb in as well.

Jaskier easily settled into Eskel’s arms, warm and soft and so perfect as Eskel’s heart caught in his throat, wanting to cling to Jaskier and never let go of him.

Instead, he brushed the hair back from Jaskier’s face. “Ready?” he asked, and Jaskier nodded. Eskel formed the sign for Somne. “Sleep and dream of pleasant things.”

Jaskier went boneless in his arms, and Eskel held him gently, staring down at the incredible bard.

Giving him up at the end of this was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do.

But he didn’t have to right now.

Eskel pulled Jaskier closer, settling in next to Jaskier, breathing in the contented scent of their bard, and ignoring the ache that was sure to come later, when Jaskier chose Geralt.

For right now, he had the bard. And that was all he would focus on.