Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wind was biting as Jaskier reached a hand out to steady Geralt on the back of Roach, glad to see the Keep that Geralt had mentioned before he passed out. He hadn’t planned on coming up here, he knew Kaer Morhen was practically sacred to Witchers, but he didn’t really have an option when Geralt got stung by hell knows what right before they were supposed to part ways, having stayed together a bit longer than usual since Geralt had gotten a job closer to home before the winter for once. Getting up the mountain on his own with the other passed out had been incredibly difficult, but he’d made it.

 He just hoped they wouldn’t kill him now.

“Hello?” he called loudly, pausing outside the gated. “I know one of you has to be here by now! Geralt needs help, and I’m not exactly suited to handle this one!” He just had to hope they wouldn’t blame him...

The door creaked open, someone the same height as Geralt appearing in the doorway on the other side. His features were hard to make out with the light behind him though outside of dark hair and broad shoulders. Were all Witchers so big? Was that something to do with the mutations?

“Who the fuck are yo-“ the words halted as the other seemed to take in the limp form on Roach.

“Geralt.”

The word came out sounding like someone had hit the Witcher, breathless. Potentially speechless. Probably smelling the blood that Jaskier had spent the last several days trying to clean up while also ensuring the wound didn’t get infected.

“He was hurt in our last stop before we parted ways. And I don’t know enough to fix him up from this,” Jaskier said quickly, eyes wide as he kept one hand on Roach. “I did my best, of course, but there’s some sort of poison- I don’t know poisons. Not well enough for this. Not without someone to walk me through all of it. I didn’t know where else to go.”

The words tumbled out of him without hesitation. Between the panic about Geralt and the concern about how he was going to be received, it was hard to fathom that this was going to go well. But he had to get his Witcher taken care of.

Even if his Witcher didn’t know he was his.

The Witcher hesitated for a moment longer before nodding. “Grab the door. I’ll call for one of the others to take Roach,” the man said, not giving Jaskier a second to process as he stepped around the bard to carefully pick up Geralt. Not a small feat, even Geralt’s weakened state. Likely smaller than usual since Jaskier hadn’t been able to feed him properly for the last several days, on top of being poisoned by something.

“Lambert!” The voice rang out through the old Keep as Jaskier managed to snag the door before it slammed shut. It was pure luck he’d already had his lute in his free hand, not wanting to leave it outside in the bitter cold.

He would have, of course, if it meant getting Geralt to safety, but that was one less thing to worry about later. Repairing an instrument up here would probably be hell given that the bard would have to do it himself… It was unlikely there was a Witcher that knew how to care for an instrument properly, and that would make for a miserable winter for everyone when Geralt was better.

A red head appeared within seconds. Lambert, Jaskier assumed. “What the hell happened?” he ground out, taking in Geralt in the first Witcher’s arms before noticing Jaskier holding the door open.

“And who the fuck is that?”

“Late. Find Ves. We’ll be in the upstairs lab. Then take care of Roach,” the Witcher holding Geralt shot back, earning raised brows of annoyance before Lambert darted off. Jaskier let the door behind him close. “And you’ll grab the doors for me. But don’t touch anything. Start running me through what happened.”

Talking was easy. So were easy. Both things Jaskier was certain he could do, falling in step easily with the other Witcher. The still nameless one. Any other time, he would have been demanding to know his name and who he was and how long he’d known Geralt… All things that would have to wait until later when he wasn’t worried about his best friend.

So Jaskier took a deep breath and starting talking. “We stayed together a little later this year. I said I would stick around until he was back from his most recent contract. He doesn’t usually take them this late, you know? Ready to get home and all of that. I wanted to make sure he got back in one piece and-“

“I would appreciate if you got to the point about what happened,” the Witcher interrupted as he paused in front of a door and nodding for Jaskier to open it.

“Right. Sorry,” he mumbled, grabbing the door and stepping back to let them both in. Babbling was a bad habit when he was nervous… Which now was not the time for.  Forcing himself to take a breath, he continued. “He didn’t come back on time. Like I said. So I went searching. I found him on the edge of town in pretty bad shape, and all black eyed from those potions of yours.”

The potions that kept them alive, and Geralt had never bothered to fucking explain them to him.

“He had a really bad stab wound in his side. Not the kind made by a blade. Stinger, maybe? I’ve seen smaller wounds like that. From scorpions,” Jaskier explained quickly, setting his lute case down and out of the way when the Witcher made it inside. “There’s a couple of claw marks too. They were a bit deep, but they wouldn’t have been an issue if he wasn’t poisoned by whatever the hell it was. He was only shakily coherent by that point which, when you’re as talkative as Geralt is on a good day, means that I knew fuck all.”

He was following the Witcher towards the table that the big man swiped clean without hesitation. Not one of the ones covered in breakable bottles, thankfully, just papers that he clearly wasn’t worried about. “So I did my best to understand, and he mentioned getting stung. I patched him up best I could. He was out like a light before I was done.”

“The fever started to develop after that. Which was when I knew we were in deep shit because he couldn’t wake up to tell me anything about how to treat it. Not in any way that made sense,” Jaskier grumbled. “Which was when I decided we needed to head up this way. Quicker and more likely to find you than a random sorceress that would actually be willing to help for what coin we have on us. So I got him up on Roach and we started making our way up the mountain. She lead most of the way, thank Melitele.”

The Witcher looked at him in surprise, revealing some nasty scars down one side of his face that seemed to keep that side from making any major expressions, though the other side had one eyebrow raised and those same golden eyes he was so used to seeing. “You got Geralt on Roach? By yourself?” he asked.

Jaskier blinked at him in return, not expecting him to be hung up on that part. “Yes? A few times. I had to get him down when we would stop for the night to try to clean the wound,” he explained.

The Witcher huffed at him. “Must be stronger than you look,” he commented after a moment before shaking his head and turning back towards Geralt. “Get these bandages off him. I’m going to look for potions. When Vesemir arrives, he’ll take over. Understand?”

It seemed like the other was waiting for him to nod, so he did, grateful that the focus for now was on Geralt. On healing Geralt. What was really all he could ask. He could figure the rest out later. Instead, Jaskier was left to undo the work that had help Geralt together this long. But he was safe now, and with people that could actually help him. That was what mattered.

Still, the idea of being in relative safety didn’t stop Jaskier from undoing the bindings on the cuts first. The less he had to deal with the largest wound being open to the air, the less likely he was to get worst before anyone could get him properly on the path to healing.

“Do you want me to clean them up a bit? Kinda hard for him to avoid leaking when he was on Roach’s back,” Jaskier offered before the door swung open again.

The fourth Witcher was definitely older than the others. His hair had gray in it in a way that was starkly contrasted to Geralt’s pure white. This one was from age, much like humans. This was the Vesemir that was mentioned earlier. Ves for short, from the sounds of it. And that gaze pinned him from setting aside the dirty bandages as he was examined by the other.

How old did a Witcher have to get to have hair that was graying?

How old was Geralt that his was all white?

“That’s a conversation for later,” Vessmir finally muttered, almost as if to himself, before nodding. “Get him cleaned up. Eskel can explain what he’s seen and then we’ll get him patched up.”

Turning away to the other Witcher, Jaskier could hear them talking to each other as he managed to find a clean cloth and some water to work on cleaning Geralt up. Getting the blood that had oozed out during the trip washed away and the like… Trying not to focus too hard on how it was his best friend he was cleaning up. His muse.

It wasn’t long before the two Witchers appeared at the side of the table, a number of potions in their hands. “Going to need you to back up. He could lash out,” Vesemir commented shortly, waving him off.

A gesture that certainly didn’t have Jaskier leaving the room, hovering nearby as the two Witchers lowered their voices again. Talking about how to handle this, probably. The bard couldn’t say he was surprised, of course. Not with how private Geralt had been when they first met.

He watched Eskel’s hands rest on Geralt’s shoulders, holding him first as Lambert appeared in the doorway. “Where do you want me?” the redhead rumbled, directed to hold onto Geralt’s wrists. If he was bound to lash out like Vesemir thought, he couldn’t say he was too surprised. Then no one would get hurt, hopefully.

Jaskier barely caught Vesemir uncorking something before he was pouring it into the wound, wincing as it bubbled up and Geralt jerked.

A groan torn from his friend’s lips.

The liquid was still bubbling, and Geralt was writhing in the other two’s grasps even as Vesemir continued his work over him before he was finally able to bandage the other up cleanly. Neater than Jaskier had managed it on the road, certainly, though that was less surprising.

“Everyone out. He’s settled, I’ll keep an eye on him,” Vesemir growled finally as he stepped back, reaching for a towel to wipe his hands off. “Eskel, you’re in charge of our… visitor until I have a moment.”

Not their guest.

Shit.

The red head grumbled under his breath, not loud enough for Jaskier to hear, but the eldest Witcher glared at Lambert until he turned and stalked out of the room.

Eskel, on the other hand, waited for Jaskier as he looked between the quartet of Witchers, eyes lingering on Geralt for a moment. At least he had a name now for the one that he’d been talking to this whole. “Right. Of course. Thank you,” he offered what he hoped was a bright smile to Vesemir before grabbing his lute case quickly and following Lambert out of the room.

The door had barely shut behind them before Lambert was turning on him.

“Now. Who the fuck are you?”

Chapter Text

“Jaskier. A pleasure. I don’t suppose there’s any chance we could all have some tea or something while we have this conversation, could we? I hope you’ll excuse me, but it’s almost a blizzard outside, and I don’t quite have the durability that you two do,” the bard managed to offer with a bright smile, though it felt a little ragged after three days of dragging Geralt up a fucking mountain.

Eskel had stepped around him, a hand resting on Lambert’s shoulder. The one who had snapped at him so easily. “I think we can afford a cup of tea and food for you. Given how you brought Geralt up here. We will be asking him to confirm anything you tell us though before you’re given any free roaming privileges of the Keep though,” the other remarked, voice less sharp than Lambert’s. Though clearly distrustful, he seemed to have the voice of reason between the two of them.

“Delightful! Then lead the way, I am starving, and there’s a good chance I’m going to crash now that I’m sure Geralt’s in good hands once I’m done eating, so please take that as a warning that I am utterly exhausted,” the bard offered, motioning for one of them to show him where he was going to find something to eat.

And Lambert did lead the way, continuing to grumble in what sounded like an angry tone as they headed away from where Geralt resting. Lambert seemed to do that, grumble. Like he was pissed off at the world.

Jaskier was happy to follow, glancing around and trying not to think of Geralt lying behind them, passed out and hopefully healing. He’d always wanted to come here, of course, ever since he’d figured out that Geralt went north for the winter. The few times he’d mentioned it, though, Geralt had immediately shot him down.

He’d never planned on coming without an explicit invitation.

Now, he was stuck feeling like an intruder. Not a particularly regretful one, he would do whatever it took to make sure that Geralt was safe. That he would be well. He deserved that much, no one else was around to look out for the big Witcher when he was on the Path. Jaskier took that role on himself, even when he couldn’t do it properly and ended up climbing a fucking mountain without the other even awake enough to direct him. He was definitely chewing him out for that when he woke up later.

Thinking of Geralt waking up later made him feel a little better. Thinking of chewing him out. That felt more normal than whatever this was, even if he was fascinated by the old Keep that now surrounded him.

Worry for his friend clouded Jaskier’s mind as they walked, and combining that with his exhaustion and general amazement at where he was, the bard was quieter than usual as they walked except for quietly humming under his breath. A calming mechanism for all of the stress of the last several days.

The kitchen they entered several minutes later was clearly well used, though also well organized. Knives and utensils and different things to cook with. A door that likely led to a cold room, though they probably could just tie things up properly outside some times of the year if the walk up had been any indication. That was probably particularly useful if all the Witchers only returned for the winter… A question Jaskier was itching to ask but didn’t dare bring up yet.

“Can I help?” he asked as Eskel began to putter around the kitchen, feeling bad if he didn’t at least offer. Jaskier certainly wasn’t a guest yet, not given what Vesemir had said.

But Eskel waved a hand at him. “Just sit. I’ll find something you can eat and get the tea going. You look like you could sleep where you stand,” the darkhaired Witcher commented quietly. It was sweet, even if Jaskier wasn’t sure about sitting out helping.

Still, he took a careful seat while Lambert propped himself out of the way against a nearby wall. Just watching, from the undeniable feeling of eyes on his back.

Silence lapsed among the group again until Lambert decided to break it as Eskel set a plate down with some bread and cheese for Jaskier. “How did you know this was where we were?”

That voice was undeniably angry.

Jaskier reached for a piece of the cheese, shifting so that he could see both of the Witchers. He’d thought that Eskel would be the one asking questions, given Vesemir’s orders, but he supposed he was wrong. “I know around where Geralt and I part ways for these last several years. Between that and where Roach seemed like she knew the path, I put it together. On top of the fact that we never get this far north, I had a feeling we were closer than usual,” he answered honestly before taking a bite.

That brow of Eskel’s raised again, though the scarred portion of his face was now hidden behind hair. Perhaps that was intentional. “I see. And you travel with Geralt regularly?” Eskel asked quietly, his voice gentler. More prompting, though still deadly serious.

It wasn’t near as aggressive as he had been when the man had answered the door earlier. Probably because Jaskier wasn’t standing there with their fellow Witcher bleeding over a horse anymore.

That certainly didn’t hurt.

“For the last several years, yes. Seven, nearly eight? We met in summer, so it’ll be eight this summer,” he explained easily. “I met him in Posada a while back. I was there to play and try to make a name for myself as a new bard, freshly on my own. And, of course, he was just brooding. I had to hear what he thought of my music, you know.” Jaskier tore a piece of bread off and popped it into his mouth.

Something about what he said seemed to settle Eskel somewhat, though the man still didn’t look particularly happy about this whole scenario. “So you’re the bard who’s been travelling with Geralt,” he murmured.

Jaskier couldn’t help the true grin that crossed his face at that. “He has mentioned me! I was worried when you didn’t recognize my name. All good things, I hope?” he asked, not expecting that to be so.

Geralt wasn’t known for being gracious with praise, but he didn’t mind that. The fact that he had mentioned him at all was something he was going to consider a compliment. And ask him about when the other was on his feet again. After Jaskier chewed him out for making him worry.

“That’s certainly a long con if you were angling to get up here,” Lambert rumbled.

When their gaze met, Lambert looked absolutely livid. Like he hated the fact that Jaskier dare to sit here, and worse be casual about it. “I wasn’t angling to get up here, dear Witche-“

“I’m not your fucking dear.”

The words were sharp. Lambert took a step towards him, threatening. Warning.

Jaskier just raised a brow at him as he tore another piece of bread off. He might be worried about how they would receive him given everything, but Jaskier wasn’t scared of Witcher posturing. He would have left Geralt a long time ago if that were the case.

“Well, Lambert, I wasn’t angling to get anywhere. Besides maybe in his pants. I’d never even met a Witcher before, and I certainly didn’t hear of your home even briefly until I’d been travelling with him for a few years, and he never said anything about where it was,” the bard answered before taking another bite. The redhead glanced past him at Eskel before the furious gaze rested on him again. “And I’ll admit, I would have loved an invite, but I wasn’t going to intrude on your sanctuary. If Geralt never invited me, I would have accept that with much grouching.”

That little glance had been so similar to the look Geralt had first given him that day in Posada. Like he couldn’t believe that the other wasn’t scared shitless of him. Poor Witchers, used to being able to rely on fear.

Eskel cleared his throat, drawing Jaskier’s attention again. It felt like they were trying to keep him on his toes by going back and forth.

Jaskier couldn’t be certain, of course, but he wouldn’t be surprised if this was some sort of plan they had to deal with intruders. Solo intruders only, perhaps. It wouldn’t have worked with more than one person. He let his gaze be drawn to the other though, leaning back a bit in his chair as he ate.

“Please put the tea together, Lambert,” Eskel said quietly now that Jaskier was refocused. “You understand we cannot just trust that you happened to be able to put that together and wanted to come up here of your own free will, right? It’s not exactly standard behavior, and plenty of people would like to know where we make our home for the winter. That’s not a risk we can take.”

Ah. That made plenty of sense to him. “And I also just showed up with your very badly injured brother on the back of his own horse,” Jaskier added.

“Yes, that too,” Eskel said quietly. That was the part that Jaskier had been worried about. “He never mentioned you by name, so it’s hard to confirm you are who you say you are. But we can at least put some of that together with what we already know.”

Hopefully enough that they would give him a chance until Geralt woke up. That was all he wanted. He wanted to make sure he was ok…

At least he could trust that Geralt would recognize him upon waking.

“All I want is for him to get well. I wouldn’t have intruded like this if I hadn’t had to, I swear. Even if you can’t take my word for that right now,” Jaskier explained, tone a little more serious. “I’m just glad you let me in with him. I had no idea how to handle those wounds. Not with poisons in his system.”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Eskel’s face seemed to soften a little at that. Lambert set a few mugs out with tea for all of them, smelling strongly of chamomile and something else he couldn’t pinpoint. “We’re glad he’s here. Whatever else happens, I appreciate you getting him home safely,” the Witcher offered quietly in agreement.

It earned a gentle smile from Jaskier before he thanked Lambert for the tea. “Thank you,” he repeated to both of them. “For taking care of him.”

“We didn’t fucking do it for you,” Lambert hissed next to him.

Jaskier met his gaze without hesitation. “I never thought you did. But that makes me no less thankful,” he promised. “Geralt is my best friend and my muse. I would hate to see anything happen to him. So I am thankful that you are able to take care of him the way he needs right now.”

That angry gaze held his own even, if tiring, one for a long moment before the redhead turned and stomped off angrily. Despite the fact that Jaskier knew they could walk silently, he was pretty sure he heard those angry steps all the way down a hallway before a door slam reverberated through the Keep as if an angry teenager lived here.

“We don’t get visitors very often. Especially human ones,” Eskel commented quietly. Still not calling him a guest. It stung slightly, but at the same time, Jaskier really couldn’t blame them. Not that Eskel was asking that of him. He was merely… explaining.

Jaskier opted to nod, taking a small sip of his tea instead of letting himself focus too much on their wording. It was a warmer welcome than he had worried about earlier. “I appreciate it all the same. I’m certain this isn’t the way you expected to start your winter,” he said quietly, offering him a more gentle smile than the brilliant one he had offered earlier when they had realized who he was. “Do you mind I ask if there’s more of you that come for the winter? Geralt never talked much about any of you, so I’m afraid I have no idea how many people I might run into here…”

The way the other’s head tilted slightly, Jaskier wasn’t sure if he had stepped on a landmine or not. Would asking for information be considered rude? Nosey? Spy-like?

Probably should have thought of that before he asked.

“It’s unlikely we’ll see anyone else this winter given the way the snow is coming down tonight,” Eskel finally answered. It wasn’t a full answer, but it was enough that Jaskier was satisfied with it for the time being. “The mountain is dangerous on the best of the days. After too much snow, even we wouldn’t attempt it.”

“I look forward to seeing more of you all then,” Jaskier offered, hoping that made up for any discomfort the other felt about him asking about his family. About those that came here for the winter.

It wasn’t his smartest moment, but he was tired. The tea was making him even more tired, though he didn’t want to admit it. Until he was yawning into his hand. Shit.

“Finish your tea, Jaskier. Then we’ll get you up to bed. I’m sure Vesemir will want to talk to you in the morning,” Eskel said quietly, lip quirking in slight amusement. “We’ll find you a room in a moment. Lambert should have brought all of yours and Geralt’s things in when he was done taking care of Roach, so we can grab those, and you can get some sleep. Sound fair?”

Sleep sounded like heaven. Sleep with someone else he could trust to watch over Geralt. “Absolutely wonderful, truly,” the bard promised.

“I’m certain. We all like to sleep after coming up the mountain,” the other agreed. At least it wasn’t just a human thing that made that trip hellish. “I wouldn’t suggest wandering freely in the morning. It’d make us more comfortable if you didn’t.”

One of them had mentioned something like that earlier… “Of course. I’ll keep that in mind,” Jaskier promised. He took another big sip of his tea before getting up to wash the now empty mug. “I’ll clean this and then I’m ready to sleep for a week.”

Jaskier counted it among his wins that he heard the Witcher snort under his breath, hopefully in amusement. He pulled himself off the stool to go clean the mug, drying it down as best he could before realizing he had no idea where it went when he was done. He hadn’t been paying attention when Lambert was making tea earlier… Fuck.

A hand was held out next to him, the silence of Witcher movement making him jerk before realizing it was just Eskel. “Oh. Here,” he offered quietly, handing him the mug.

And made sure to watch where he put the mug.

Next time he was having tea or something, Jaskier actually wanted to find his way around the kitchen. Though, with how muddled he felt tonight, he wasn’t sure how much he would remember in the morning. Names would be plenty at this point.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Eskel said quietly, leading the way out of the kitchen. Not that Jaskier doubted the other could hear his footsteps behind him. Maybe his heartbeat. The only thing he remembered was to grab his lute case on the way out while they figured out where Lambert had thrown his things, hoping he had brought them in with Geralt’s.

It wasn’t long before he was being led up to what was to be his room, Jaskier starting to feel his feet drag as they finally made it there. Eskel pushed a door open for him to what was an unused room.

“I’ll get a fire going for you. There should be extra furs in the trunk,” the Witcher explained, pointing to a trunk at the end of the bed. He was already turning away to crouch in front of the fireplace, brushing away some dust and setting up the logs while Jaskier watched despite himself. Of course he’d seen Geralt get their fires going, but it was still interesting to watch Eskel’s hands move vaguely, not quite in view. Making a Sign to get a fire going for him.

Jaskier forced himself to look away and find some of those extra furs. This place was definitely drafty, and he was not getting ill right after getting Geralt up here to be treated. He tossed several at the end of the bed.

Eskel stood, brushing himself off and glancing at Jaskier. “Is there anything else you need before I leave you alone for the night?” he asked, looking around the room for a moment as if making sure he forgot nothing.

It was sweet. Thoughtful.

Finally, it was Jaskier’s turn to wave a hand at someone instead of being brushed off or shooed out of a room like he had been all night. “No, not at all, my d-“ he cut himself off before he made the mistake of calling Eskel dear as well. It was a habit, all of the endearments. He forced himself to course correct. “Eskel. Thank you.”

The Witcher nodded, not commenting on his slip up. Maybe it was just a Lambert thing, or maybe it was because he caught himself. Jaskier couldn’t be sure.

“Don’t be afraid to call for one of us if you need something. We’ll hear,” Eskel promised quietly, heading for the door. “Sleep well, Jaskier.”

“Night!” he called as the door shut behind him, voice as bright as he could manage after the days he’d had. He took a few moments to set his things aside, tuck his lute into a safe corner, and make sure the fire was going properly going for the night.

Jaskier was asleep as soon as he hit the pillow.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Jaskier woke slowly. It was debatable if it was still even morning as he curled up in his blankets, realizing just how chilly it had gotten in the middle of the night. He probably needed to add logs to the fire.

“Fuck, that’s going to make the floors cold,” he grumbled to himself under his breath, burrowing further under warm blankets.

Not that stone floors were particularly good for warm feet. Sleeping in his socks had been a good idea last night. He’d barely made it into bed, curled up tightly in the blankets, before he had passed out. The fact that Geralt was safe and well taken care of made it much easier to sleep. He didn’t have to wake up every few hours to make sure his friend was still alive or whenever a twig snapped.

There were monsters in these woods, after all, and Jaskier was no Witcher. If he had had to deal with a monster on the way up, they would have been even more screwed.

He huffed and forced himself out of bed, grumbling to himself as he felt cold through his socks. He was going to have to find a rug, or he was going to bitch all winter about it… And he would make sure more than just Geralt heard about it after he was sure that he was welcome here long term.

It took several minutes to get the fire back to its prior warmth so that he could feel comfortable changing. He would have to get a bath soon. He felt filthy after that trek, and he a good soak would make his whole fucking day at this point. Even though it was early. Well, Geralt waking up and confirming all of his words was also going to make his day, but he wasn’t going to complain about that part.

He refused to work on changing until the heat was roaring again, not willing to risk hypothermia just to change clothes. While the bard would kill for a good look, he was not going to die himself.

So Jaskier stood there, warming up in front of the fire, until he felt ready to get dressed. It was reassuring in that moment that Lambert hadn’t thrown his things in a snowdrift after realizing they didn’t smell like Geralt. While Jaskier was never quite sure what Witchers could smell, he knew that they could smell things like people. Geralt had commented on it a few times when he came back smelling too strongly of someone else and shoved him into a bath.

The only time Geralt ever pushed him into a bath instead of vice versa.

Finding clothes was easy, pulling something simple but bright. He went with a blue doublet, something to match his eyes, and it wasn’t near as bright as some of his other clothes. This was a little gentler, in his mind. It wouldn’t be too different from their surroundings or a bright blue sky. Balance.

By the time he was dressed, he realized that he wasn’t supposed to go wandering. Shit. If he wasn’t supposed to wander, what the fuck was he supposed to do?

It wasn’t like he was up at the crack of dawn or anything. With his luck, and what he knew about Witchers, they were probably already up and busy. Nowhere near his rooms, likely. With his luck. He’d seemed to have abandoned some of his luck at the bottom of the mountain, and he was certain that whatever had remained, he had used to get in here without anyone trying to make a swipe at him. Or outright blame him for Geralt’s injuries.

Groaning to himself, Jaskier managed to pull out his little mirror, realizing there wasn’t one in here, and go about fixing his hair. It gave him a moment to think, and he knew he would feel better if he looked put together before facing the grumpiness of the Keep.

Finally, he laid his cloak out on the bed so that he could bring it with him, not sure where he would end up going for the day. Maybe he could leave it by the door so that he wouldn’t have to worry about it later…

Right. Good. They, at least, weren’t going to throw him out in the snow until Geralt woke up. Not that he thought they’d do that anyways, Witchers weren’t monsters, but it was in the back of his head. Just trying to cause anxiety where he really didn’t need any at this point.

He took a breath and opened the door. “Good morning all!” he called in a sing song voice, leaning against the doorframe as he snagged his shoes to pull on.

Pointedly, he wasn’t leaving his room but just letting whoever was near enough to hear him know that he was awake. He wasn’t trying to get on their bad sides, though his feet itched to explore the Keep. To see what he could find here. To see what he could learn. He just wanted to know it all, and that was going to get him in trouble if he wasn’t careful.

Geralt wasn’t awake to get him out of trouble…

That left the bard to try to exercise some modicum of self-restraint, a trait he wasn’t known for having. Which was why he was putting his shoes on in a fucking doorway. And pointedly ignoring the worry that sprang up when he thought about Geralt not being awake.

Lambert appeared down the hall, pausing in front of Jaskier a moment later, arms folded across his chest in annoyance. “You’re finally awake,” he muttered, glancing him over.

It sounded like the redhead would rather be literally anywhere else, but that told him that he had probably also been the closest to him. Lambert had been the most visibly upset by his appearance in the Keep last night, though Jaskier didn’t doubt that the others weren’t his biggest fans.

Instead of focusing on any of that, Jaskier just flashed a smile. “I am! I’m not a morning person, Geralt is usually dumping me on the ground if I won’t get up in time,” he offered cheerily. “Without sunshine in my face, I’m awful at waking. Especially after a long trek up a mountain with an injured friend. Anyways, can we go see him? I’d love to see how he’s doing this morning.”

The thoughts of Geralt had been carefully pushed from his mind until he knew he could do something about them. Like right now where he could demand to go see the other.

“He’s not awake. Old wolf said he might not be for several days,” Lambert ground out. Leaving no question that the redhead would rather be doing anything else in the world than sitting here, talking to Jaskier as he finished pulling on his shoes.

But Jaskier just waved a hand at him. “I don’t care. I still want to see him,” he retorted.

The thing about travelling with Geralt, especially right after they met, is that he was used to grumpy Witchers that didn’t want him around. Jaskier could ignore that just like he had nearly a decade ago.

Which was what led him to go to try to brush past Lambert before an arm shot out, slamming into the wall with more force than necessary. Barring his path. “What the fuck were you told about wandering around freely?” That was definitely a growl.

Were all Witchers so pissy?

Jaskier wouldn’t have denied that he jumped with the way the hand slammed down, but he also folded his arms across his chest as he looked up at Lambert. Stupidly tall Witchers, too, while he was making complaints. He’d have to make a list. “I’m not wandering freely. I’m either going to see Geralt or getting lost. But if you want to lead the way, I’m more than happy to take a stroll with you before we find something for me to eat and figure out how I’m going to fit in here for the day, that would be fantastic,” he shot back.

Lambert stepped closer, crowding him against the wall. Practically rumbling angrily. Almost cornering him in the space. “You aren’t in charge here, Bard,” he ground out. “You weren’t invited. And you aren’t trusted.”

That made him blink. It stung a little to know Geralt’s family didn’t trust him. Even if he wasn’t surprised, that didn’t mean he had to like it. He raised his chin slightly to meet that golden gaze. “And you aren’t scary, Wolf,” he answered quietly. “I’m going to see the most important person in my life one way or another. If those that he trusts could help me in that endeavor, I would greatly appreciate that. But I will not be kept from checking on him, no matter how skilled the people who worked over him last night are.”

There was no one that was going to keep him away from Geralt. Not after he had seen everything that had happened. He wouldn’t lose him. And he wouldn’t be intimidated by an angry Witcher who didn’t trust him.

Lambert didn’t move at first, glaring down at him in return.

Jaskier wasn’t completely sure how long they stood there or exactly why they stood there that long. He had the distinct feeling that he was being tested in some way. If Lambert wasn’t a Witcher, he may have thought that he was being sized up. Maybe he was… He couldn’t be completely sure. Hopefully, one day, he could ask.

Finally, that hand fell.

The angry look didn’t leave his face though.

“Come on, Bard,” he grumbled under his breath, turning down the hallway and stalking off. Leaving Jaskier to catch up quickly, sighing in relief.

“Thank you, Lambert!” he called, not wanting to be left behind. Seeing Geralt first was his biggest priority. Then he could worry about the rest of the day.

Chapter Text

Geralt was in a similar state to how they had left him the night before, though he was just asleep. A thin sheen of sweat covered his forehead. Warm to the touch. Warmer than usual.

Jaskier frowned as he carefully brushed the other’s hand out of his Witcher’s face, looking him over. “He’s healing well though?” he asked quietly, glancing up at Vesemir. Lambert had almost immediately ditched him upon dropping him off in the lab. That was what they had called it the night before. A lab.

It made more sense now that he was able to glance around for a moment before going back to look over Geralt. Trying to comb his fingers a bit through the mess of his hair. Clearly feverish…

He hated seeing him like this.

“He’s healing. It was a bad wound. He needed immediate care,” Vesemir said quietly from where he watched them, settled into a nearby chair. Keeping watch. Likely just how Jaskier had done over the last several days during their climb. “I’m glad he’s home for us to take care of him.”

It was the closest any of them had offered to a thank you.

Jaskier offered a slight smile to him, glancing up for a moment, realizing that the man’s eyes were watching him closely. Well, he supposed that was to be expected… “I don’t know enough about your potions that I could have done all of that, and I certainly couldn’t have held him down and administered whatever you used. Getting him here was his safest bet,” he said honestly.

“You took a great risk coming up here. But you knew that when you arrived at the door,” the old Witcher continued. “Very few would have attempted such a climb. And even less would have made it to our front door successfully.”

He couldn’t do anything but shrug, leaning a bit against the edge of the table, glad to see someone had brought Geralt a pillow. He would have asked about a blanket, but if Geralt was going to move, they might have issues getting him untangled… “I just had to hope you wouldn’t think I did it. If I could get past that, I didn’t think any of you would actually hurt me,” he commented, voice soft. Even at his most annoying, Geralt had never done more than punch him in the stomach that once.

Again, it felt like he was being sized up.

Vesemir’s gaze, while obvious, was less aggressive than Lambert’s had been. “You have a lot of faith in Witchers you’ve never met.”

“Always have.”

Ever since that first day.

There had been the thrill of meeting a Witcher. Excited to meet someone that he had only had the chance to read about, and only briefly at that. He’d found an incomplete journal hidden in the back of the library while he was doing research one day. His interest had been piqued. He’d never turned back.

It wasn’t like Elvish songs either. There was no art from the Witchers, and little information he could trust. Nothing to translate or record that he would dare put into words properly.

Not until he met Geralt.

“I’ve heard,” the deep voice beside him murmured. It made the bard warm to know that Geralt really did talk about him even if he didn’t name him. Not well enough to make sure that his family would recognize his name. “You are going to be watched until Geralt wakes though. We cannot just let you wander freely when we cannot confirm you are who you say you are.”

Jaskier shrugged, letting himself lean a bit against the table now. “I didn’t doubt that. I know you’re all protective of your home. And each other,” he said honestly. “But I would like the ability to come down and see Geralt. Perhaps a few places I’m allowed to be? I’ll try not to wander much.”

He wanted to know what the Wolves of Kaer Morhen thought of him, truly, as he met Vesemir’s searching gaze. The way those eyes widened just slightly for a moment.

While they were more expressive or more talkative than Geralt, the bar was rather low for that. It was little things. Clear displays of anger, Eskel’s willingness to talk to him, the way he was lucky enough to see the way Vesemir’s eyes widened for a moment at his response.

The only thing he understood was the anger. Kind of.

Finally, Vesemir nodded. “I think I can make a small list of places you can go until he awakens. But Geralt doesn’t confirm what you’ve said so far to any of us, we’re going to have issues,” he warned.

A grin spread across his face unbidden. A win, truly. Something that he was certain he could get out of this. “Perfect. Hopefully I’ll get something I can do out of these places as well? If I have to stay in my rooms all day, I’m going to go stir crazy, Vesemir. I hate sitting still for too long, especially alone,” he said, words coming more quickly now.

Food and a good night’s sleep had done him wonders in sounding like himself. On top of the fact that Geralt was on the mend, albeit slowly. A few days… It had to have been a hell of a wound.

A whole part of his side had been missing, after all.

There would be new scars.

“Careful. I can always find something for people to do,” Vesemir warned, lips twitching just slightly for a moment. Amusement, maybe?

Jaskier’s grin only broadened, a hand continuing to come through Geralt’s hair lightly. He’d have to bring a comb down next time so that he could get all of it untangled. Otherwise, it would be hellish later. “Then just don’t make it boring. Oh. Do you have a library? I can work really well in a library, though I might get distracted,” he warned.

Both were true, of course. Jaskier loved a good story, and a library full of Witcher relevant books? Melitele, he would be in heaven. He had never had the chance to get straight answers from Geralt on most things, but books? He would be set.

“We can find you plenty of work in the library,” Vesemir promised with a quiet chuckle. “And if you’re with someone, you can go unlisted places. Do you agree?”

“Absolutely!”

There was no thought to his answer, he was happy to go anywhere that they would let him. But a library, likely some baths, and wherever to get food? As well as being able to visit Geralt? That was an easy thought.

Vesemir nodded slightly. “Go with Eskel then. Get some breakfast. I’ll think of the places you can go while we wait for Geralt to wait,” he said as the door opened, the scarred Witcher standing in the doorway. Of course, Witcher senses made things like that so much easier. They could just hear each other coming and going like there was nothing else wrong.

“I’m assuming he’s well?” Eskel asked quietly from the doorway, glancing towards the white-haired Witcher on the table and then Vesemir.

“As can be.”

It was a fair assessment. There wasn’t anything that they could do besides care for him right now, Jaskier supposed. He hated that, but it was all he could do. It made the bard feel useless. “I hear you’re going to be the one taking me to breakfast. Probably for the better, I think I pissed off your brother this morning,” Jaskier commented cheerily, pulling himself off where he had leaned on the table.

He took one more look at Geralt, brushing a nonexistent piece of hair off his face before turning to go with the Witcher out of the room. His stomach was already grumbling, though less so than it had been the night before when he’d arrived.

They were heading downstairs, something that seemed to be left over from the Witchers’ breakfast pulled out to set on a big table for him. Now that he had the chance, Jaskier could see there was far more than just a kitchen to eat in. This hall was huge, it could easily house plenty of people. It was meant for more than just the four he had seen here so far… Tables and benches and- everything.

It was so empty.

Except for a tree full of medallions. An old tree that held what he could just now tell were Witcher medallions. Wolves. He itched to ask about it, but that felt rude. For reasons he didn’t understand. Still, his eyes stayed on it for a long moment before he sat down, realizing Eskel was there with food.

Jaskier settled down across from him, happy to dig in, though he also left plenty for Eskel if he chose to have them. “You know, you look an awful lot like your brother,” he said, pointing out something he had started to notice last night. That Geralt and Eskel bore a striking resemblance to each other even through the scars and the different hair colors.

Eskel’s gaze snapped to him for a moment. “We’re not related,” he said quietly after a moment, seeming to offer a soft correction.

“I know, I know. But you still look a lot alike,” the bard explained with a shrug, starting to work his way through his breakfast. And there was even coffee! Oh, this was heaven compared to the last several weeks.

“So why do you call us brothers?”

“Because you’re clearly each other’s family? If I had to guess, I’d say Vesemir is the father figure. Given the naturally gray hair. He definitely looks the oldest out of you four, but it’s hard to tell with Witchers since I know you don’t age the same.” It all seemed so clear to Jaskier that he hadn’t even questioned it. It wasn’t based off of Geralt calling them brothers or anything, it was just what he had seen so far…

But Eskel was staring at him like he’d grown a second head. Like this was the most insane thing he had ever heard.

Shit, had he fucked up?

“Brothers at arms, maybe,” Eskel finally allowed, letting Jaskier breathe a sigh of relief and reaching for his coffee to sip at in relief.

Brothers at arms. Jaskier could accept that, though he would have called the group more than that. He wondered if there was a reason for the difference, though he couldn’t be sure. Again, it felt rude to ask. Like he was intruding on something he hadn’t quite earned the right to ask of those he could talk to. Geralt, on the other hand, he wouldn’t have hesitated to bring it up with.

Geralt was still asleep.

He respected Eskel’s wording instead. “Brothers at arms then. I can tell you all care about each other, so I just kind of assumed familial relationships,” Jaskier said, shrugging. “Which makes it all the more interesting that you look the same. Well, similar. Like you could be blood siblings. Handsome, broad shoulders. Similar look, really. His is more grumpier, of course, but I can definitely see it. Like day and night.”

And now he’d grown a third head, from the looks of it.

Was he just walking around this morning sticking a foot in his mouth every time he opened it?

“I haven’t heard that since before the mutations,” Eskel finally murmured, making him realize that he had just… caught him off guard. Wasn’t prepared for anyone to say they looked alike.

Jaskier blinked before smiling as he understood a bit better. It wasn’t an insult, and Eskel hadn’t taken it as such. “Did you look more alike then? Did you know him then?” he asked curiously, continuing at his breakfast.

It wasn’t a ton of information, Eskel didn’t give things up the way that Jaskier really craved when he wanted a good story, but it was more than Geralt had ever given him. Talking about how they both used to have dark hair. Briefly about how they were about the same age, though Geralt had come to Kaer Morhen at a younger age. Brushing over how they had gone through the mutations together with almost no information on what that meant.

He'd never heard any of this. Geralt never talked of before the mutations, so much so that Jaskier had started to wonder if he remembered it. But Eskel did.

Some of it he even seemed to remember fondly…

The details, as blurry as they were, were enough to make Jaskier smile as he finished his breakfast and even when they cleaned the few dishes before he was finally able to dry off his hands and stretch.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite, for the time being. You have food and you have stories, which are two of my favorite things at the moment,” he offered brightly. The only thing missing was a good lay, but he was pretty sure sleeping with one of Geralt’s brothers without letting Geralt know he was going to sleep with one of his brothers was off limits.

Between the fact that he sometimes slept with Geralt and the fact that Geralt didn’t know he was up here. Plus Jaskier was still gaining trust. It all equaled unwise, for now.

“Let’s just… find a way for you to be useful today. You can find the springs tonight,” Eskel finally said, glancing away awkwardly, hiding his scars even more. Jaskier’s brows raised at the mention of a hot springs, but the Witcher just kept talking. “There’s always plenty to be done.”

Chapter Text

Eskel wasn’t lying when he said that there was plenty of work to be done.

Jaskier found himself in the library for the day, thankful to be inside. That didn’t, however, stop him from having to do plenty of work with a promise from Eskel that he would be back later and that he would let Vesemir know where he was left. It was enough to make the bard wonder how much of his conversation with Vesemir was heard earlier.

He was really going to need to figure out how far Witcher hearing went in this place before he did something really stupid. The problem being that Jaskier was really good at doing stupid shit.

That was how some people got Child Surprises.

But instead of focusing on that past, Jaskier was humming to himself as he tried to sort through the library. Apparently, it was a task that Vesemir had been trying to get one of them to seriously take on for several years. While Eskel doubted that he would be able to do this all winter, it was certainly something that would keep him in one place while the others go to their own work. And the bard was ecstatic to be in a room full of old books, earning a wrinkled nose from Eskel and a wish of good luck over his shoulder as well as a warning to leave anything on the back wall the fuck alone.

Sadly, Jaskier didn’t doubt they would notice if he actually went at anything on the back wall. Geralt always seemed to know when he was messing with things he wasn’t supposed to. It had caught him off guard in those first few months, particularly when Geralt had snapped at him for digging through his bag to find a potion after one of his first bad injuries.

Humans can’t mess with Witcher potions, you fucking idiot.

The words had stuck in his head, though he had since learned the basics. Geralt wasn’t always in a state to figure out what he needed, and Jaskier could identify what he needed between some of the more commonly used potions.

The day passed that way, easily. With his hands full of books that he was carefully organizing and managing to find a blank piece of paper he was certain he could write on for books he wanted to return to. There were, unsurprisingly, many books that Jaskier wanted to return to later. Books full of tales and stories and so much information that he just hadn’t had access to before.

It wasn’t long before he needed a second piece of paper after having covered the first front and back with a list of things he wanted to look at later.

Many of them wouldn’t actually be something he read in full, but he didn’t know when he would get a chance to come back here. He wanted to at least look at all of the books that he had written down. It would be something to take up some of the nights. Maybe Vesemir would let him borrow one or two for the nights while Geralt was still healing.

The work took up all of his thoughts, truly. Enjoying the feeling of old books in his hands. The writings of people long before him. Storytellers. Scholars. People dedicated to their craft.

He was carefully flipping through one of them, turning back around before he realized someone was there. He jerked in surprise, squeaking loudly before swearing in more than one language as he realized it was just Eskel. “Make some fucking noise, sweet Melitele. Stupid, silent Witchers scaring the hell out of poor defenseless bards without a care in the world,” he grumbled under his breath, well aware that the other could hear him. He was supposed to.

Earning him a snort of what might have been amusement out of Eskel. Those scars still hidden behind his hair. He must not like people seeing them… Poor man, that probably didn’t help how people treated Witchers to be so clearly scarred like that.

Just another thing to make him stick out.

It didn’t stop Jaskier’s mind from briefly thinking about climbing the man like a tree.

Some things really never changed.

“It’s nearing dinner. And I thought you might like the heads up. Then I can show you the hot springs beneath the Keep,” Eskel explained quietly, keeping a careful distance, arms folded across his chest.

Jaskier huffed at him loudly, but he put the book aside so that they could go find dinner. “I suppose I’m not above bribery. Especially if there is a hot springs on the other end of it. I am hoping that is as wonderful as it sounds, you know. I could really use a good, hot soak,” he commented.

Piles of books littered the room, care steps towards organization like he had seen to Oxenfurt with some modifications in progress. He had to hope that it was something that Vesemir would approve of when he saw it.

“The springs are one of the reasons we all return most years,” Eskel promised, voice earnest. And he was so looking forward to that.

The thought of a nice soak in a hot springs had him hurrying through dinner, which Lambert avoided. Eskel promised that the redhead would eat later. Something about not being fond of strangers. Which Jaskier had gathered, by this point, but that didn’t stop him from worrying that the man hadn’t joined him because of Jaskier himself. He did have to suppose being a stranger would lead to that, but he felt like that was a bit much for someone to avoid a whole meal! Who knew what those two had been doing all day.

Vesemir joined, asking after the library. He earned a grunt when he started explaining his process for organizing and a reminder to leave the back wall alone. Jaskier took that as some level of approval. There was also a request for Eskel to come watch over Geralt for a few hours while Vesemir meditated. At least he would get some level of sleep.

Not full sleep, but it made Jaskier worry slightly less about the whole thing. Witchers may need less sleep but they still needed rest.

By the time they were done with dinner, Jaskier was practically skipping as he followed Eskel down to the springs. They had hot springs. Geralt had never mentioned them, and he was considering that a cardinal sin.

Who would keep a hot springs a secret?

The real shame was that Jaskier didn’t make it to said springs until the second stay, practically dead on his feet from the riding the few days before. He’d made it as long as he had something to do, but the moment he left Geralt’s side, he was yawning, despite his earlier skipping.

Eskel had ushered him off to bed, refusing to let him go when he was already so tired, promising to find a few things that would help him get cleaned up.

At least Witchers knew what life on the road meant. Grime. Dirt and grime and feeling very gross when you came in after what had turned into a long week. He was able to get the worst of it off before he passed out again and rose at a slightly earlier time the next, though getting out of bed was still a struggle.

Lambert wasn’t the one to greet him at the door, again. He was pretty sure the redhead didn’t like him, and Jaskier tried not to take it personally.

Besides, Eskel promised that, after dinner, he could go to the hot springs.

Jaskier would have demanded to visit far sooner if he had known what was in store. Instead, he had only found out this morning. The brief chance to swing by his room and grab a change of clothes as well as his soaps and oils was all he needed now. He wanted to be able to change into something clean when he was done.

Stepping into the room, there were decent sized pools of water across what was now a very nice simulation of public baths. Something that Jaskier was not prepared for, nor the bit of steam that made the room pleasantly warm.

“I warn you now, Eskel, you may never get me out of here,” he said softly in awe.

He hadn’t even managed a dip in said hot springs yet, but he could tell. This was the best thing that had happened in the last several months and he was going to take full fucking advantage of it.

Eskel just snorted softly in amusement. “You and the rest of it us,” he said quietly. “They go in order of heat. You won’t want to use the last two, they’re going to be too hot for you. Good for us, not for you.” He motioned towards the end of the few pools. There were about five of them, now that Jaskier looked properly.

He wasn’t even hesitating to strip down now that he had found a bench off to the side to dry things off in. “I’ll keep that in mind in case I’m ever bored enough to try to peel my skin off,” Jaskier promised lightly, smirking as he saw Eskel turn away slightly when the Witcher realized he was already undressing.

It was sweet.

And Eskel’s warnings about how hot the pools could get didn’t stop him from going straight for the middle pool, right before the ones Eskel had indicated would be too hot for him.

Sinking into the bath was bliss.

He might have moaned.

A little obscenely.

Completely ruining any chance of this being a sweet moment.

Jaskier glanced up as he waited for the other to join him before realizing that Eskel hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you going to bathe? I’m sure your body hurts just as much as mine, and you were probably doing actual physical labor today,” he commented, aiming to keep his tone light.

“Quite alright. I’ll soak later,” Eskel said simply, turning to leave. Maybe stand outside the door?

He couldn’t imagine that they were just going to leave him on his own again even if they could smell where he was going and coming from. They clearly didn’t trust him, and Jaskier really didn’t blame them for that even if he so dearly wanted their trust. Witchers were a secretive lot. He knew that. The only reason he had as much trust as he did, he was certain, was that he had brought their brother home to be taken care of.

“Nonsense! Come on, you can join me, Eskel,” he promised brightly. “There is no point going to wander around or whatever you plan to do only to come back and soak later!”

“But-“

“Do not make me get out of this bath and drag you in. I am perfectly comfortable, but I will not take no for an answer here,” Jaskier threatened.

The look on Eskel’s face as he saw the other’s jaw drop for a moment before it snapped shut, mouth tightening. Either debating how to agree or finding a new argument for not coming to join him in the baths. If it was the latter, he was about to find out how serious Jaskier was.

“Fine.”

The response was grumbled, deciding to give up and not test the bard’s will to pull a Witcher into a bath. “But I’ll leave if you ask.” The words were quiet as Eskel turned away, just loud enough for Jaskier to hear and realize how uncomfortable Eskel was. Well shit. That had not been the point of all of this, he just didn’t think that Eskel should have to wait to bathe…

What was it with Witchers being self-conscious or some shit? He was going to have words with whoever had taught them to be ashamed of how they looked when they all looked like they could be carved from fucking stone.

Jaskier still turned away and let himself sink into the bath while he waited, letting the man have some privacy to undress. If he was uncomfortable with the idea of being seen, Jaskier didn’t want to make it worse.

It was several minutes before Eskel sank into the bath next to him, in one of the pools that had been indicated as too hot for humans. So just out of view, or not in total view, perhaps? Not that it stopped Jaskier from looking over at him, taking in the broad shoulders and the side profile of him for a long moment. It was even clearer now that he looked similar to Geralt.

The scars were still turned away from him, making the image even clearer. Not without Jaskier considering that fact that because his face was almost always angled in a way to hide the scars, the people on the Path must find it intimidating. When Eskel was easiest the kindest one to talk to at first, even in these awful circumstances, Jaskier found himself hating that fact even more. Hating the fact that someone, likely many someones, had taken this poor Witcher’s kindness and ignored it because someone or something had disfigured his face. Poor man…

“Isn’t that better?” Jaskier asked over his shoulder with a grin before he could be caught staring.

Earning a familiar grunt.

“Oh, shush. Use your words, I’ve already heard that you’re by far the most capable outside of, perhaps, Vesemir,” he teased softly, letting himself sink further into his own pool. “Let me know if you want me to wash your hair. I know which oils won’t irritate your nose, and it’ll be very soft when I’m done.”

He didn’t want to just assume that Eskel would welcome such an intrusion. Geralt had accepted it rather regularly, but the way he could feel himself being watched again made him almost certain that it was better to offer than just demand that one. “I can handle some steamy water for a few minutes to get your hair clean. Don’t worry about it,” Jaskier continued before he could hear an argument.

Silence reigned after that for a moment as Eskel seemed to process that idea before finally speaking up again. “You want to wash my hair?”

“Yes?” It came out like more of a question than Jaskier meant for it to, but he still got the point across that he did, in fact, want to wash Eskel’s hair. It was nice, and he liked the chance to spoil someone. It was even better to spoil someone that he knew deserved it and didn’t often get to be spoiled.

Another span of silence.

“Why?”

His heart broke a little.

“Because it’s just a simple thing I can do for you, Eskel. It’s nice, and I know how much grime you all get in your hair. Plus, it’s really relaxing to have someone wash your hair, even if you pretend to be very grumpy about it like Geralt,” he said, hoping that the lightness of his tone helped put it into context a bit. That the other could see he was just offering something little in his eyes.

“I’m not Geralt,” Eskel warned quietly, that golden gaze on him yet again. Watching him. Waiting for some sort of reaction that signified Jaskier didn’t mean it, he wanted to bet.

Instead, his head tipped back to meet his, slumped comfortably in the water. “I’m well aware, dear. That doesn’t change that I’m offering to wash your hair,” he murmured, not catching his use of the endearment. They were second nature to him.

“Oh.”

“You think about it. The offer stands any time,” Jaskier promised, closing his eyes as they lapsed into silence again. And if he dozed off… Oops.

Eskel could ponder his thoughts in peace.

Being woken by a fully dressed Eskel a while later was not the way that Jaskier wanted to get up, especially not out of such a cozy bath. It was just rude, really, he was cheated out of the chance to see a shirtless Witcher. Bards everywhere deserved better.

But he stumbled out of the bath anyways, trusting and hoping that Geralt was still. Even as sleepy as he was, he demanded to go see his friend.

Jaskier knew that the man wouldn’t be awake, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to make sure he was healing well. Awake or not, he was used to being the one that looked out for Geralt when no one else was around to do so. People might be around to do so now, people he trusted at that, but that didn’t erase the urge.

That was how he found himself looking him over tiredly, arms folded across his chest. “You really do need to wake up, dear Witcher, your brothers are not too sure what to do with me besides organizing a miraculous library,” he murmured, leaning against the table as he watched the way his chest rose and fell slowly. In anyone else, it was a reason to be worried. But with a Witcher… Jaskier was glad to see it. “Not that I mind, I love seeing the old books. And I will have it in working order this winter. But I really, really want to see everything and you need to be awake for me to do that part.”

Unsurprisingly, there was no response from Geralt in this instance. Even if there had been, he probably wouldn’t have earned more than a grunt for his ramblings. Maybe some huffiness.

For now, he just got silence.

Eskel rolled his eyes as he turned away to walk down the hallway, leaving him with Geralt for the time being. Probably was silly to be talking to a sleeping man.

“I don’t suppose you think they’d let me just doze in here for a bit, do you, my dear? I don’t really want to keep leaving you in here on your own,” he murmured quietly. He didn’t want him to be alone, and he didn’t want to go without seeing him anymore than he had to.

“Absolutely not.”

And there was that deep voice of the eldest Witcher of Kaer Morhen. The one that was clearly in charge. “There’s too much in here for you that could actually cause you to get hurt,” Vesemir interrupted before he could keep talking to the sleeping Witcher. “And while you may not plan to move around to sleep or something similar, I will not risk you messing with something you aren’t supposed to.”

Jaskier glanced up only to pout at being denied. It was remarkably rude that they thought he would mess with anything in here. “Come on, Vesemir, I can handle myself around your things. I just want to sleep in here,” he grumbled.

That look the man gave him was reminiscent of something a father would give him. Somewhere between a glare and appreciative of the fact that he cared for Geralt. It was a long time since someone had looked at him like that. Jaskier hadn’t been looked at like that in a long time. He certainly wasn’t going to get that look from his own father, and he wasn’t going to be going back to Lettenhove anytime soon to try for it.

“Pouting at me isn’t going to help. Go on back to your room. Unless you need me to show you the way?” Vesemir asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

Now it was Jaskier’s turn to huff. Maybe Geralt was rubbing off on him. “Will someone come get me if he wakes up at least?” he finally asked, looking at him closely. He didn’t want to miss out when he finally woke up. He wanted to see him… Awake and well.

Vesemir looked him over for a long moment before nodding. “I’ll make sure someone comes and gets you when he wakes. Now. Do you need help back to your room?”

Jaskier offered him a tired smile. “Then I can get back to my room on my own,” he promised quietly. “Thank you, Vesemir. I’ll be back in the morning if he’s not awake by then.” He offered a slight wave and turned to leave.

Chapter Text

The next days passed much the same. Organizing the library, eating with the others, getting sniped at by Lambert. Lambert was good at sniping comments and aiming for where it would hurt most. And fuck did he have good aim sometimes, though. Geralt could have warned him about his particularly snippy little brother, really.

Admittedly, Lambert also ignored him and seemed to try to stay out of his way when he could get away with it. What was it with him meeting taciturn Witchers?

There was definitely a long list of things that he was going to chew out Geralt for.

The other thing that he saw plenty of was the hot springs. Jaskier just could not let those go unused, even if Eskel hadn’t come around to letting him wash his hair yet. The scarred Witcher seemed to be deeply uncomfortable with the idea. And Jaskier wasn’t one to push where he truly wasn’t welcome.

Especially when he considered it a win that Eskel hadn’t fully stopped bathing with him. The man continued to return once or twice even though the springs were on Jaskier’s list of places he was allowed to go by Vesemir. A list that he was trying very hard not to push the boundaries of because he was itching to see the rest of the Keep.

He also went to see Geralt every day, trying to keep his hair combed and put together. Checking on him as best he could when he wasn’t caring for him…

All he wanted was for the other to wake up.

It wasn’t long before Jaskier pulled out his lute, fingers itching and trying to distract himself from the fact that he couldn’t exactly wander very far. But there was a nice little fire going in the room off to the side of the dining hall, and he was done for the day. Everyone was.

None of the others were around to tell him to shut the fuck up, and he would have only gone to his room anyways. Still, he would rather be out here for a little while longer rather than in his own room now that he had enough sleep to not want to pass out immediately at the end of the day. Besides, he had a feeling the acoustics down here would be lovely.

Tuning was easy, the cold hadn’t ruined anything, thankfully. That case had been worth every penny he’d spent on it.  Instead, it was only just slightly out of tune.

Within a few minutes, he was strumming softly, smiling as he let himself slowly sink into his music. Familiar songs fell from his fingertips as he warmed up, humming softly. He wasn’t playing for attention, after all, he just wanted to play. Music had always been his safety, his strength. The place he could turn to when he didn’t know what else to do.

Whether the song was his own, something else, or just a random tune stuck in his head, Jaskier didn’t care.

Still, he didn’t take long to turn to the songs that he had written about Geralt, not paying attention to his surroundings now that he was comfortable and warmed up. Those were always his favorite. They’d been the first songs he’d written that he really considered a success, and they were about Geralt. Someone always on his mind, especially now.

He paused to shake out his hand, glancing up as he realized there were eyes on him. “Oh. Hello, Lambert,” he offered cheerily, seeing the redhead hovering in the doorway.

The redhead only grunted, arms crossed. “That’s the least bad version I’ve heard of that yet,” he muttered.

Jaskier could feel his face light up. “You’ve heard it?” he asked brightly, setting his lute down to rest in his lap before he processed the rest of it. “I should hope it’s the best you’ve heard yet! It’s my song! I wrote it after Geralt and I met in Posada.”

Lambert’s face seemed to smooth for a moment, surprise crossing his features. By far the closest to a friendly expression he’d gotten out of the other, though it was merely neutral. “You wrote that,” he said quietly. Not quite a question, but still incredulous. “Why?” The reaction, while very different from Eskel’s, was also very familiar.

Like he didn’t understand why there was someone out there that would do such a thing.

“Because I wanted to capture our first meeting. And I saw how people treated him when I met him in a tavern. Considering I was a man stuff bread down my pants at the time, I figured we were both in… not the best of situations. Earned us both a bit of coin after it caught on,” Jaskier explained with a smile, picking the lute up again so he could let his fingers tap at the strings even if he wasn’t really playing. More like fidgeting than trying to do anything with the instrument. “It was the first time he was my muse. The song wasn’t really planned.”

Golden eyes didn’t leave him before he heard a quiet ‘huh’ and Lambert turned to walk away without further explanation. Leaving Jaskier to try to figure out what that meant and why Lambert would react like that. Still, he hadn’t bitched about his playing…

That was the thing that Jaskier reminded himself of as he tried to think through the reaction, picking up his lute to continue playing. Enjoying the feeling of the stringers underneath his fingers as he worked through the rest of his repertoire until he was ready to be done for the night. Wondering what the other Witchers thought of his music when they heard it on the road.

He’d have to ask eventually, but he doubted that Lambert would answer him after that. Eskel might tell him. He wasn’t sure how often Vesemir left the Keep, so he may never had heard Toss a Coin.

Thinking about their reactions was a nice distraction from worrying about Geralt that night. He knew what Geralt said he thought of his music, after all, though he was pretty sure he was lying. Geralt would have told him to fuck off properly by now if he really hated his music…

The following day was Jaskier’s fourth day in the library, the piles starting to be sorted to where they needed to go. It was actually starting to look organized in some places, though there were also clear gaps and piles everywhere that he hadn’t made it through yet. It was going to take forever, he wasn’t going to pretend that he would be done with this by the end of the week or something like that, but he was slowly making progress.

Another book in place and he could-

The door was pushed opened to the library, causing him to turn around in surprise. “It’s not time for dinner yet, is it?” Jaskier asked in surprise, eyebrows knitting together. It didn’t feel late enough for dinner.

Eskel shook his head, standing in the doorway. “Geralt’s awake,” he said quietly.

Jaskier nearly dropped the book in his hand, barely managing to put it down before it ended up on the floor. The only thing that he made sure was to set it down on its side so that he would be sure to come back to it later. He didn’t want to ruin his work by putting something where it didn’t go.

“Well let’s go!”

He was already brushing past him, shoulder brushing against Eskel’s as he hurried past him. He didn’t hear the footsteps behind him, but he was certain that Eskel was there, rushing down to the lab.

Geralt was awake! Geralt was awake, and this was the best news ever.

He was all but running down the hallways towards the lab. He had to see Geralt, and Geralt was going to see him. He was going to talk to him.

Eskel was saying something behind him. Jaskier didn’t hear a single word, though normally he would pay attention. All he could think about was seeing his friend and muse now. The man he cared more about than anyone in the world.

Without bothering to knock, Jaskier shoved the door open.

Just in time for him to hear the other speak. “What do you mean someone brought me up here? Who the fuck could make their way here but us in this storm?” Geralt grumbled tiredly.

And Geralt was propped up in a new position, the table he had been laying on now pressed against the wall. A breath of relief rushed out of him in pleasant surprise as he saw him even as his heart pounded at the fact that the other didn’t realize who had brought him here.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder before he could move forward, eyes wide as he looked at the injured Witcher.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

Jaskier’s heart pounded in his chest, feeling fingers dig into his shoulder as he watched Geralt closely. Hoping that he hadn’t missed the man hitting his head or some shit that was going to make this a lot hard.

“Geralt?” he asked softly, going to step forward only to be held in place. A firm warning from Eskel who still stood behind him. “Come on, you can’t mean you’ve forgotten the last nearly decade, even in your long life. I’m not that forgettable. And don’t you dare say I am.” He was trying his best to keep his usual upbeat tone, but the idea of not being remembered scared him…

Golden eyes snapped to him, pausing.

Those were the golden eyes that he knew the best. The familiar face, and he was awake and functioning even if he didn’t look great. His Witcher. If he hadn’t still been injured, Jaskier would have thrown himself at the other and taken the hug as soon as he could get it.

“Jaskier? How the fuck did you make it up here?” he asked in confusion.

A rush of air escaped him in relief. “I dragged you up on here on Roach, that’s how! Heavens above, I would’ve thought you’d have more faith in me than that, you ridiculous man!” he snapped.

Those fingers loosened slightly as Geralt recognized him. There was going to be a bruise there later, he wouldn’t dare tell Eskel about it. Eskel would feel bad, and Jaskier wouldn’t blame him when he got his head back on straight.

Jaskier pulled away, glad that he was let go as he hurried to Geralt’s side. “But still. You’re awake,” he finished in relief.

Geralt blinked at him before he swore he caught the hint of a smile as he hurried over. Jaskier couldn’t help but throw his arms around him even as Geralt stiffened. Stupid man, they’d done plenty more than hug. Still, he pulled back after a second. “Observant as ever,” he said dryly. “I don’t suppose you’ve been making yourself useful?”

It was certainly more words than he was used to the normally grouchy Witcher saying, but Jaskier was far more distracted by the fact that he was actually up and talking. It may look a little strained, but there he was… Even if he was making the list of things to yell at him about even longer by not realizing who was here in the first place. “I have been organizing the library, actually,” he said with a grin. “It has been very hard not to wander this Keep, you know. Because you’ve been asleep and unable to explain just who I am beyond the ‘bard’ that you apparently have mentioned. How dare you tell them my profession and not my name? And then to not even believe I would try to get you here?”

That actually got a snort out Geralt before he winced. “Bard is easier when they haven’t met you,” he offered by way of not-apology. “And I didn’t think you’d trek the Killer.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” Jaskier snapped, but he was standing in front of him now, able to pull away from Eskel’s grip even though tension filled the room. “You know good and well I would do just about anything for you! So I got you up this god forsaken mountain, you could at least use my name when you talk about me, you ridiculous man! You do not get to wake up and think you can avoid this conversation Geralt of Rivia!”

Geralt had leaned his head back, watching him tiredly.

The words came out without hesitation, as if he were talking to just anyone else. To Jaskier, this was anyone else. This was the most important person he had ever met in his life who had just scared the shit out of him twice, and he would make sure that he got every bit of what was coming for him in this moment. He didn’t think how few people would talk to a Witcher this way or even that he was most certainly yelling at his admittedly still injured friend. Jaskier knew that if he was awake, he was getting far better. Especially after three days of rest.

Until he realized that the other Witchers in the room were staring at him, Eskel with a slightly raised brow and Lambert looking like he was trying not to laugh. Vesemir’s face was indiscernible, though there was no doubt in Jaskier’s mind that he was paying close attention.

“I do think I earned some right to chew him out after all of that. Did anyone else want a go before I continued?” Jaskier offered, rocking back on his heels for a moment.

Lambert finally broke, snorting loudly in amusement.

It was the first time he’d seen the redhead offer any form of positive emotion in reference to him since he’d arrived. He’d only gotten surprised neutrality the night before. Maybe that was a step in the right direction.

“I think that confirmed everything you needed to know, Vesemir,” Geralt commented quietly, glancing towards the older Witcher as Lambert just shook his head. They must have been talking before he’d come in. “He is who he says he is. I’m not sure how he made it up the mountain though.”

“I’m not completely sure either,” Jaskier grumbled under his breath.

“Keep yelling, I want to hear what else you come up with,” Lambert added.

Vesemir huffed, shaking his head. “No more yelling. I just told him that he needs to take it easy for a day or two, and I don’t need you all fucking yelling in my lab,” he snapped, looking at the three of them, Eskel carefully stepping out of the immediate line of sight to get a talking to. “Are we clear?”

A round of yeses went through the room, leaving Jaskier to fuss over Geralt for a while until it was announced that maybe they should all eat dinner in here if they were going to keep acting like this and something about ‘he wasn’t fucking dying’ under Lambert’s breath.

Still, it sounded like a glorious idea to Jaskier until he heard Vesemir say that he needed to talk to him after dinner. He’d thought he’d gotten away from all of the explanations and suspicion with Geralt awake but that...

Shit.

Still, he followed the eldest Witcher away from the group in silence.

He hadn’t seen this office yet, and it was as surprising as it was worrying. Though Vesemir motioned for him to take a seat in front of a fireplace that he was getting going. At least he’d be warm while the other chewed him out or told him some sort of bad news.

There was no way he was in here because everything was ok.

Jaskier knew what it was like to get chewed out, after all. He’d gotten up to plenty of trouble over the years, in Oxenfurt and since he’d graduated. Geralt could speak to plenty of that.

But Vesemir was putting on a kettle a moment later before settling into the chair across from him. Like maybe this was a chat. That was… confusing. Not necessarily better, but not worse either. It had the potential to end well, now. Which he could hope for. Things had been going well, he thought. He hadn’t wandered in any unapproved areas, and he hadn’t gotten in an actual fight with Lambert. He hadn’t done anything wrong that he knew of. Besides Geralt’s not immediately realizing who had brought him here. That had been a misstep, just not on his part.

“How are you settling in?” Vesemir asked, golden eyes watching him closely. “We haven’t spoken much since you’ve arrived.”

Jaskier blinked at him in surprise, not realizing that that was what he was going to start with. “It’s- nice. I’ve loved seeing the library, you have books that shouldn’t exist anymore,” he said, deciding to start there. “I’m really looking forward to seeing the rest of the Keep. And finding time to read many of those books. Really, it’s incredible. And Eskel has been delightful.”

Nice wasn’t the right word, truthfully, but it was an amazing chance to see all of this. Things that he would have thought long lost to history. Plus- “Don’t even get me started on the hot springs. I can see why Geralt returns every year, on top of the company,” Jaskier finished.

It earned him a slight twitch of the lips. Amusement, maybe? Vesemir was harder to read than the younger Witchers. Which was impressive considering how unexpressive Geralt could be.

“It’s nice to know someone appreciates the library besides myself,” he rumbled quietly. That was a shame, people should enjoy having access to that kind of history. “And now Geralt is awake. Able to attest to who you are. After seeing you.”

His smile changed into something softer. Geralt being awake was everything he hoped for. “He is. A very welcome change from the person I dragged up the mountain on Roach’s back.”

Geralt had been an awful state when he had come up the mountain. Missing part of his side, getting worse. Unable to wake up. It was a thing that was going to haunt his nightmares for a long time, seeing him like that. He’d gotten him here, that was what mattered. Geralt was awake. Geralt would be alright. Everything else could be fixed from here.

“But he doesn’t know how you got up here. Nor did he think you could.”

Oh.

Jaskier understood now.

That wasn’t reassuring, but he could understand why he was in here, talking with Vesemir. He ran a hand through his hair. “A lot of luck, mostly. I had to hope that Roach knew where we were going and follow what little path I could. Combined with what I already knew about vaguely where you all were, of course. That was probably the key part was knowing enough to start in the right spot,” he explained, meeting Vesemir’s eyes again. “I pay a lot of attention, despite what people think about me. The joy of being a bard, truly.” He flashed a smile to hide his nerves.

Even as the other examined him before getting up to make them both a cup of tea. He couldn’t be sure that Vesemir believe him or even remotely what he was thinking here.

Every instinct in him screamed to start babbling. To keep talking. He managed to bite his tongue.

To hold himself together.

It was hard, Jaskier wasn’t know for his silence. His best skill involved him talking until the people in front of him forgot why they were suspicious of him or of Geralt. That wasn’t what he wanted here. He wanted these people to trust him and accept him. Wanted people to think of him like a friend or at least an ally.

Vesemir offered him a cup of tea before sitting back down. “You seem like you’re telling the truth,” he commented quietly. “But you can understand why I can’t just accept that, I’m certain.” His voice was full of authority even as he looked at him calmly.

The others were Vesemir’s first priority. Just like Geralt was Jaskier’s first priority. He couldn’t blame him for that.

“I would never harm Geralt, Vesemir. And that means that I would never harm any of you. You’re important to him, probably the only thing I’m certain is important to him,” Jaskier said softly, hands clenching around the mug he had been offered. “I know he cares about a lot of people, and I know he’d give his life for a lot of people. But you’re the people he has come back to every year. The people he has never breathed a word about to me. Even for a man that doesn’t talk much, that tells me something… I am not here for anything other than to make sure that he would live.”

Vesemir didn’t move as they sat there, only blinking occasionally. Listening to Jaskier’s speech. Watching for- something. He couldn’t be quite sure what.

He couldn’t stop himself from continuing to speak.

“He’s the most important thing in my life. My best friend and my muse and whatever form of partner he needs,” Jaskier explained. “I won’t hurt your family. I swear.”

The older Witcher took a small sip of his tea, silent for a moment longer. Leaving Jaskier to try to think if he missed anything. If there was anything he could say that would help this situation, that would make him worry less. Anything at all.

Carefully, it seemed, Vesemir set that mug down, still hot and mostly full. Much like Jaskier’s.

“Humanity hasn’t been kind of Witchers, as I’m sure you know. You’ve travelled with Geralt long enough, from the sounds of it. To know that. Even if you don’t know the extent,” Vesemir began quietly, leaning forward just a bit to watch Jaskier. To- smell his reaction, he supposed. Witcher smell was something else. It made him wonder if he could also hear his heartbeat. “And that means I can’t trust you fully, even if I think you may be telling the truth. There is too much at stake to merely believe you and hope my boys will be ok.”

Jaskier swallowed, feeling the way he started to shake one leg in trying to keep himself together. “So what’s that mean for me?” he asked softly.

“It means I’ll be watching,” Vesemir answered. “Geralt trusts you enough that he didn’t panic when he saw you were here. So I’ll give you a chance. But I am paying attention, and I have no doubt you’ll notice how much compared to how much people supposedly notice you.”

He couldn’t help it, he laughed.

“Oh. Well, I think I can more than live with that,” Jaskier said, letting out a breath of relief. “I didn’t think I was going to magically gain your trust just because he woke up. Just that Lambert might debate running me through a little less. And that I could see more places.” Witchers were a distrustful lot, and the bard really couldn’t blame them for that.

Vesemir seemed to smirk for a moment. “At least you’re practical, despite what your clothing suggests,” he said quietly. “We’ll need to make a list of places you’re still not allowed.”

“Wonderful! I can’t wait to see more of your home,” Jaskier said brightly, taking a sip of his tea. His heart still pounded in his chest, a little nervous about the whole thing. But not in a way he hadn’t expected. This was something he could work with. A little distrust was nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Chapter Text

Jaskier was quick to dote on Geralt now that he was awake, though he was also still working through his long list of complaints he had with the Witcher as well. Starting with how dare he not telling Jaskier about the amazing hot springs. And regularly ending with anger about questioning that he would get the big Witcher up here.

Not that the doting stopped the white haired Witcher from verbally swatting him away when he started ‘hovering’.

The was how he found himself sitting behind him, brushing out his hair while he ran through said list of complaints. While also making sure that Geralt’s hair wasn’t going to be absolute hell to untangle when he finally got out of this condition. It was bad enough that he hadn’t had a chance to get to it recently, and if they let it sit like this any longer, it was going to be miserable for everyone involved.

“How have you been settling in?” Geralt asked when the bard finally fell silent for a moment.

Jaskier blinked in surprise, hands pausing from where he was working through his hair. “Well, I’m fairly certain that Lambert doesn’t like me,” he began after a moment. “I think there might be a new chip in one of the stones near my rooms from where I pissed him off the morning after we arrived. But it’s been good. Better, now that you’re awake!”

Lambert and Eskel still hadn’t warmed up to him much, though Jaskier had started to see them relax a little now that Geralt was awake. Now that they knew he wasn’t an active threat. He still caught Lambert glaring sometimes, though that may have been his resting face.

He wasn’t going to tell Geralt that. Though he could see those golden eyes watching him after the other’s head turned, he wasn’t going to admit that the two Witchers were angry about him being here. At least one was. Eskel was polite, but that didn’t mean the other was happy to have him around. And he wasn’t sure how Vesemir felt. The oldest Wolf was the hardest to read, though he hadn’t been hurtful about it.

“Uh huh,” Geralt grunted quietly, disbelieving. Glancing at Jaskier over his shoulder, raising one brow tiredly. “Chipped stones?”

It took everything he had not to roll his eyes at the other. “He may have hit the wall. I think he was trying to intimidate me, but being as you actually hit me right after we met, I was a little prepared. You should have warned me about your family, you know,” he commented, carefully working at a knot. Those first few… months had been difficult. Geralt’s good side was impossible to find if you didn’t know what you were looking for. He’d worked it out. “Think Lambert will like me better now that you’re awake? Or he’ll just stop trying to intimidate me?”

Which earned him a proper snort before Jaskier caught the way Geralt’s face tightened slightly. Had it hurt his side? Damn. “No. Until he decides he trusts you, he’ll try to make you break,” Geralt said simply, ignoring what was likely pain. “And then he’ll keep being a prick.”

“So it’s a family trait!”

A quiet snort came from the doorway, Vesemir standing there, leaning against it. Watching the two of them. “They are best at getting under each other’s skin. And breaking my furniture,” he commented.

Jaskier’s head jerked up immediately at the sound before smiling brightly. “I have heard that that’s what siblings are best at. That and annoying their parents,” he pointed out. He hadn’t been around his own family in years, but he could see that relationship here.

“Sword master.”

His head tilted to the side. “I’m sorry?”

“I was their sword master,” Vesemir explained calmly, arms folding across his chest. “Now I watch over the keep so they have a place to return to every year.”

Left blinking, Jaskier glanced between Geralt and Vesemir for a moment, considering for once what he would say next. He didn’t want to step on a landmine somewhere, fingers pausing from their work. Upsetting Vesemir was the last thing he wanted. “I don’t believe that family is only decided by blood,” he said quietly. “In fact, that seems a remarkably shitty way to decide who’s important in your life, if you ask me.”

Carefully, his fingers went back to work on Geralt’s hair, leaving Vesemir to watch them. Those golden eyes were still on him, he could feel it. “And with as relaxed Geralt is despite the fact that he’s injured, I’d say you’re all at least as important as family,” the bard murmured.

“You’re being dramatic,” Geralt grumbled under his breath, though everyone in the room would certainly hear him.

“You take that back!”

“No.”

“Are you done?” Vesemir interrupted, and Jaskier could have sworn the old Witcher’s lips were twitching in amusement. That was reassuring. Even so, Jaskier had the decency to look slightly embarrassed while Geralt glanced away. “Your bard has proven somewhat useful in organizing the library, Geralt. You might be able to help with light chores like that in a few days.”

Geralt nodded. “It’ll be good to get out of this fucking bed,” he grumbled. Bed was being generous, more like a cot at best.

“You’ll get out of the bed when I say you’re ready,” Vesemir reminded him pointedly. Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle as he finished working on getting his hair untangled. “And you won’t encourage him to get up. Because I will make both of you regret it. Understood?”

Quick to nod, Jaskier began to work on braiding his hair. “Understood!” he promised cheerily, fingers working confidently through Geralt’s hair. This was familiar… Something he had done before.

The feeling of doing something he had done before to take care of Geralt was nice. It also distracted him as Vesemir watched the pair for a moment longer, leaving Jaskier feeling like he was being examined again. Not that that was new, it always felt like one of the Witchers was watching him anywhere he went since he’d arrived.

They were weary of him; he couldn’t blame him for that. Not that that was how he wanted to spend his winter. Jaskier could be some level of patient, though. They would trust him eventually, just like Geralt now did. Hopefully.

Vesemir disappeared a moment later though after making sure that something was in place. Jaskier was pretty sure it was beyond the basic potions he was familiar with, or something like that. Letting them know that water was boiling in case either of them wanted tea. A brief check on the bandages that were holding his muse together. It was a small bit of acceptance of Jaskier at Geralt’s side, a small indication that he would allow Jaskier to be part of this Keep because Geralt trusted him.

A win.

“Your father is a bit intimidating, you know that?” he asked quietly when Vesemir disappeared down the hallways.

An ‘I heard that’ could be heard echoing down the hallway.

“Stupid Witcher hearing.” That was much louder. Pointedly loud enough for Vesemir to hear while he went back to braiding Geralt’s hair. That would make it easier for him when he finally got out of bed to get it washed in those wonderful hot springs.

“I’m really glad you’re alright. Or going to be. You know that, right? You really scared me when we were coming up here, Geralt, I didn’t know if I was going to get you here,” he said quietly. This was the first chance he was able to have a proper conversation with him where he was pretty sure there wasn’t another Witcher listening over their shoulder.

For once, that didn’t get him a grunt. A moment of silence before Geralt spoke, staring towards the fire where water bubbled quietly. “Glad you stayed longer than usual,” he muttered quietly. “Saved my life.”

Jaskier blinked before smiling slightly. “Wouldn’t have had it any other way. And now I get to see your family’s lovely Keep and meet your incredibly grumpy brother. As well as Eskel, of course. He actually has some manners, and I think he must have soaked up any manners you or Lambert were meant to learn, by the way,” he teased.

“Still. It’s appreciated,” Geralt murmured.

His face lit up into a grin. “Any time, my dear,” he murmured, leaning over to quickly kiss him on the cheek. The only Witcher he would currently call ‘my dear’. The others only got dear.

There were few moments he could get away with clearly romantic acts even though Geralt seemed blatantly oblivious to everything. Like it was intentional. But he wasn’t going to let him escape something like a kiss on the cheek or his endearments, and he could blame it on something else later if he had to. Like the fact that hugging Geralt would be potentially harmful to his only just now healing wounds. He’d never had to explain it, though.

“You rest now so that I don’t have to explain to the others that you’re a total idiot that reinjured himself, ok?” Jaskier continued, pulling back and brushing a piece of hair out of Geralt’s face. “Sound fair?”

“No. I hate fucking being stuck in bed,” Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier burst into laughter despite himself, poking the man in the shoulder. “Shush. I’ll make you some tea. Then I think I have to get some work done before I make anyone around here even more grumpy,” he teased, getting to his feet to go about doing just that.

Puttering around the lab, Jaskier hummed under his breath as he made tea. Geralt was awake and on the mend. It was more than he could have asked for. Everything was going to be ok.

“I think Vesemir likes you,” Geralt commented quietly when he returned with the tea.

Jaskier gasped, humming coming to an immediate stop. “Really?!”

A really dramatic response for someone that had definitely just discussed trust and how much Vesemir was watching him the other day. He really hoped the older Witcher liked him, and he could dream of trust.

Chapter Text

It was only about another day before Geralt was able to join them for dinner in the main hall.

While Jaskier would have loved to sit next to Geralt, Eskel had already claimed a seat on one side of the table and Lambert on the other. Which meant that Jaskier wasn’t going to disrupt a perfectly good set up of two on each side and Vesemir at the head. Crowding Lambert didn’t seem like a good idea either, though. The redhead had been the least open to him staying here.

Jaskier slid in next to Eskel, grinning brightly at the scarred Witcher on the side where his scars weren’t immediately visible. Something he had noticed the other did pretty regularly, and every time, it made the bard worry just a bit about how he had been treated that that was his first reaction.

 “Now everyone is able to eat together! This is wonderful,” he said cheerily, trying not to dwell too much on Eskel. He wanted to ask what had happened, who had hurt him, but there hadn’t been a right time yet.

An increasingly familiar glare was shot across the table at him. “Do you ever shut up?” Lambert seemed to grind out.

“Generally? No, he doesn’t,” Geralt said before Jaskier had a chance to respond.

“You say the sweetest things, my dear,” Jaskier teased, a hand rising to his chest in acceptance of non-existent flattery. “Someone has to make up for your many broody silences. And the fact that you are absolutely awful with the details of your stories.”

Eskel rolled his eyes as he reached for some of the bread. “He hasn’t shut up since he arrived, Lamb, I don’t know what made you think Geralt being awake would change that,” he reminded him quietly.

Earning what could almost be considered a grateful look from Geralt. It was gone a moment later when Lambert opened his mouth to say something likely equally cutting only to earn a harsh elbow into the side. Despite the fact that Geralt probably shouldn’t be moving that quickly yet.

“Not at the table,” Vesemir snapped, looking between the two of them. “And not until Geralt is healed. Understood?”

No matter how grumpy Lambert was, Jaskier couldn’t tamp down the fact that this was wonderful. He wasn’t going to take the commentary on his ample talking personally because he didn’t care. Instead, he switched tracks. “Now. Since I have everyone here, I have a very important question,” he said between bites. Waiting until they were all looking at him took a moment, but he could be patient sometimes. “Is there something to do with being a Witcher that makes all of the ones I’ve met so far incredibly good looking?”

Next to him, Eskel froze for a moment, even though Jaskier had already made it very clear what he thought about the man’s looks.

However, Geralt just sighed quietly, looking to the ceiling for some god to help him. Whichever may take mercy on his soul for being let him stuck with the bard here. Not that he should have expected any better, Jaskier wasn’t known for his subtly.

“I’m insulted you’re including me with the old Wolf,” Lambert grumbled, breaking the silence that was trying to build between the table.

“And why wouldn’t I? You’re all at least twice my age, I think it’s fair for me to comment on your looks equally.” Jaskier reached for his drink, taking a small sip as he raised a brow at Lambert, missing the look that Eskel and Geralt shared. More focused on the fact that Lambert was glaring at him again, though this time also seemed to be colored with something the bard didn’t understand. “You are all over the age of sixty, right? That’s safely double my age.”

Lambert stabbed the meat on his plate forcefully. “That’s not the point. He has over a hundred fucking years on me,” the redhead shot back. “Not really looking to compared to him by a prancing fucking peacock.”

“Lambert.”

Vesemir’s voice disrupted their bickering, quiet and collected. A hint of warning after their disruption earlier about bickering. At least this time, it wasn’t about Geralt overexerting it.

His utensils rested on the table, a bit more class than really necessary for such a small group. There was always part of him that was raised a viscount even if he didn’t act like it most of the time. Most of the time, he was truly a prancing peacock, like Lambert said, but he had still been raised in court. And he had a way with words on top of that.

Which was why he pulled himself up a bit before leaning against the table. “I tend to lean more towards flowers than birds, Lambert,” he pointed out as he sorted out what he wanted to say. “But I am an expert when it comes to beauty. And I can see plenty of it in the room besides rather grumpy looking Witchers. Full of scars, general mistrust, and probably lots of shit you’ve dealt with. And yet I can still see four stunning men sitting around me. The kind of looks that is worth ballads, and I’ve written a few to one of them.” He offered a wink to Geralt who only rolled his eyes.

A fist came down on the table between them, making Jaskier jerk a bit in surprise, Lambert standing up and leaning over so that he towered over where the bard sat. “I’m not asking for one of your ballads. Or your looks,” he ground out. “So keep them to your fucking self.”

“You don’t have to ask, sweetheart, I’m just saying what is there.”

Lambert lunged towards him, only held back by a hand to his chest by Vesemir and Geralt grabbing his shirt. He shook their touch off, looking like he definitely would have hit Jaskier if given the opportunity. “I told you not to call me shit like that,” he growled. Shoving back from the table, Lambert turned and stalked off. Restrained from doing any actual damage despite his clear wishes to make Jaskier hurt for even just a moment.

Vesemir watched him go, shaking his head. “He’s always had a bit of a temper,” he said quietly. “I’ll go talk to him.”

But Eskel was on his feet before Vesemir could get too far. “I’ve got it,” he promised quietly. Possibly escaping more of Jaskier’s compliments. It wasn’t like he had handled them well before, though never as violently as Lambert.

Watching as Geralt gently touched the scarred Witcher’s arm, turning to say something that Jaskier couldn’t catch. Far gentler than Jaskier was ever used to seeing him act.

It was… sweet.

“I’m not sorry for what I said, but I am sorry for messing up dinner, Vesemir, I apologize,” Jaskier finally said after they had disappeared down the hall. He wasn’t sure if the others could hear him, of course, but he couldn’t let that stop him from speaking. Besides, perhaps they would be able to hear at least part of that. Know that he meant it.

The eldest Witcher just huffed, shaking his head. “Not the first time we’ve had a dinner end in bickering. Help me fix up some food to store for them to eat later when we’re done,” Vesemir said quietly, sitting back down to finish his own plate.

“I can do that,” Jaskier promised.

That was really all he could do, he supposed. Besides keeping an eye on Geralt.

It left the two of them to eat with less important conversations between them. Not much that could really be said at this point, and Jaskier hadn’t really figured out how to broach the topic of his staying here. How to make it less awkward.

He’d probably have to figure it out on his own, like he did with Geralt. There was only so much he could do right now, and Lambert clearly didn’t want anything to do with him. Which made it harder since they were stuck here. They couldn’t really give each other more space than the Keep and a bit of ways outside. Not to mention the fact that Jaskier hadn’t been allowed to go very many places until recently, and Vesemir had mentioned that it was still going to be difficult to allow him completely free reign of the Keep. There were things that could really harm a human, after all.

Fixing things up so that Eskel and Lambert could come back to them later wasn’t hard, leaving Geralt to sit on the side despite his grumbling that he could move some plates.

“Stop pouting, we’re going down to the hot springs after this. Eskel introduced me to them, and I may never leave this Keep because these are the best things ever,” Jaskier commented as he stretched, grinning. Hiding the fact that he was still upset by the fact that he had disrupted dinner. Even if Vesemir said it was fine, that didn’t make him feel a bunch better.

But Geralt grunted and he was able to usher him back towards the springs, only stopping to make sure they would both have clothes to change into after that were nice and warm. “I’m serious, by the way. Those springs are the best thing I have ever seen,” he said, opening the door to the springs. “On top of the fact that I get to see a Witcher’s nice ass almost every time I get into them. So really, two great things, truly. I don’t know how I am ever going to step back into life on the road after this spoiling.”

Geralt rolled his eyes as he stepped inside. “You’re not helping with Eskel’s awkwardness every time you compliment him,” he said, stepping to one side so that he could strip down, not caring that Jaskier was in the room.

They’d shared too many rooms for either of them to be shy. And Jaskier had helped him with too many baths. “He deserves to be complimented. He’s good looking,” he retorted. “And he deserves someone that is going to be kind to him. Just like you do.”

He could hear Geralt huffing before a soft sigh as the other sank into a pool. Now that he could understand. “It makes him uncomfortable.”

“But not when you do it?” Jaskier asked, sinking into the pool with him, unable to help the soft noise of pleasure at the warmth. Though he was starting to get used to the draftiness of the Keep, there was nothing better than sinking into this pool. Thankfully, Geralt had chosen one that they could share. It’d certainly be easier to wash his hair that way.

It was also easier for him to ask him these things and actually watch his face. See the way the other opened his mouth for a moment before it clicked shut. Seeming to try to piece together what to say. A familiar look on Geralt’s face when he was thinking.

So Jaskier sank back in the pool and let the Witcher think. He’d speak when he was ready. The warmth could seep into his bones while he waited. Let him relax…

“Eskel and I are close. We’ve grown up together,” Geralt finally rumbled next to him.

Jaskier opened one eye, looking at him curiously. “How close is close?” he asked, wondering. If dinner was anything to go by, he could see plenty, but that didn’t mean he knew how close. Not from just watching a few interactions or the fact that Eskel hadn’t mentioned anything. Except for the fact that they weren’t brothers, which made Jaskier’s mind head towards a filthier route.

And there was that silence again. That moment of thought. Of framing things in a way that Geralt was comfortable with admitting, difficult given his penchant for not showing many emotions beyond the negative ones. “Incredibly.”

Huh.

Maybe the filthier thoughts earlier weren’t so far off.

Jaskier opened his eyes, staring at the water for a moment as he considered that. Incredibly close. He couldn’t imagine Geralt describing anyone that way. He certainly didn’t talk about Yennefer like that.

Silence lapsed between them again, though for once, it was Jaskier’s fault. Considering what Eskel must be to Geralt and what they meant to each other… He’d never been so foolish to think that there wasn’t other people in the Witcher’s life. He knew the man regularly paid for sex on the road, after all, and they slept together on occasion as well. No complaints from Jaskier that front, especially since he did similar. Albeit without paying. But to find out it might be someone so important that Geralt would say they were incredibly close was shocking. Not bad, but surprising.

Finally, he shook himself. “Let me wash your hair. You’ve been cooped up in that room for far too long,” he interrupted their silence, reaching for his oils that they could use.

A sign that he didn’t think much of it. Or at least wouldn’t consider things any differently with the potential that Geralt was sleeping with his fellow Witchers… And mind unhelpfully supplied that he wondered if that meant Eskel was off limits.

“Yeah, alright,” Geralt grunted.

Jaskier grinned and shifted so that he could get to work on his hair.

Chapter Text

The coming days saw Jaskier’s chores begin to vary as he was allowed more places than the library, the lab, his room, and the hot springs. Not that Jaskier would have complained about being confined to the hot springs more, but he was ecstatic to see more of the Keep.

Even though ‘more of the Keep’ right now meant that he was stuck outside, helping tend to the animals.

The plus side was that he was stuck outside tending to the animals with Eskel. Which gave him a chance to talk about what he had discovered about Eskel’s and Geralt’s relationship. To hopefully clear up any confusion about things or at least make the future less awkward. He couldn’t bring himself to be jealous, after all. He was not a monogamous fellow.

Neither was Geralt, from the looks of it. Between sleeping with him and Yennefer… And apparently Eskel. Well, he’d fallen in with the right crowd.

He huffed as he brushed through Roach’s coat, trying to ignore the fact that he could still feel the breeze through the gates of the barn. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been, the horses needed to be kept warm as well. That didn’t mean it was warm enough for a man that was not used to being this far north in this much snow.

A noise made him turn around, surprised as he was faced with a little goat. “Oh. Hello there,” he said brightly, crouching down to say hello to the small animal. A kid. “Where did you come from?”

Maybe he wasn’t anything but a spoiled city boy (if no one mentioned he’d spent every year of his adulthood on the road), but that didn’t mean he wasn’t incredibly curious about this new little animal. The Witchers had a number of animals, after all, so they could have things like milk, meat, and eggs throughout the winter. But he hadn’t seen a goat yet. Or heard of one.

He reached out to rub at his fur, smiling as he gained a bah. “Well aren’t you friendly!”

Eskel came around the corner with a swear before realizing that everything was ok, though Jaskier couldn’t be sure why he was worried. “What a little brat,” he grumbled under his breath. “This is Lil’ Bleater. He’s my- pet, I suppose.”

“He’s your pet?” Jaskier asked in surprise. “Does he travel with you? I didn’t know that Witchers had pets beyond their horses!”

There was a small smile pulling at Eskel’s face. Even the bit hidden behind his hair, though it was hard to tell how much control he had of the other side of his face. “Yes, he does. If he didn’t, I think he’d try to follow me down the mountain, and he is a bit of an idiot,” he said softly. “So I bring him with me. He’s my law of surprise goat. Making him… a bit of an honorary Witcher.”

Jaskier blinked at him before laughter bubbled up. “Is that how that works? I always wondered how someone became a Witcher,” he teased. Though-

Fuck.

Now he understood something new that Geralt had never bothered to explain. Like why he hadn’t claimed his own child surprise. Besides the fact that the Path was no place for a child, he knew that Geralt wouldn’t put this life on someone else. Not when there was a better life out there for them… Like that child with her family. That little girl.

“Kind of. There’s a couple of ways the people ended up here, but that’s one of them,” Eskel said as Lil’ Bleater threw himself at the man, huffing in amusement while he rocked back. He wrapped his arms around the goat, picking him up easily. “So, yeah. He’s a trainee, I suppose.”

Jaskier chuckled as he watched them even as he was filled with thoughts about child surprises. “Well, he’s an adorable little trainee,” he said, crouched down as he watched them. “Not my favorite Witcher, by any means, but I rather say, he could come to grow on me if Lambert keeps exploding every time I dare to respond to his goading with teasing.” The redheaded Witcher hadn’t managed to properly scare him yet beyond making him jump sometimes. Still, he would’ve liked to be on semi-decent terms with everyone. Lambert was the hold out.

Eskel raised a brow, brushing a hand through Lil’ Bleater’s fur. “Lambert is the least social of us. And the youngest. Don’t take it personally,” he said quietly.

“I don’t, I don’t,” Jaskier promised, waving a hand at him. “Lambert at least talks to me, Geralt was much worse when we started off. And I’ve never been one to fear a Witcher, you know? Besides, he’s worried about his family. I can’t blame him for that. Any of you, really. Strange bard shows up at your door with your injured brother at arms? I’m glad I didn’t get tossed out on my head or something.”

It had been a real concern while he was trying to make him way up the mountain. He’d had no idea how they would react to him being up here, but he couldn’t not bring Geralt up the mountain. Apparently nicknamed the Killer. He could see why.

“Everyone is very lucky you made it up here,” Eskel murmured. His voice was soft, honest. Thankful for the fact that Jaskier had made it up the mountain, not too different from himself though much more genuine about it in this moment. “It’s taken out experienced Witchers. Your trek here was practically a miracle.”

Jaskier flashed him a smile, trying not to think too much about his own mortality. He wasn’t meant for morbid thoughts, even if he could be really good at them on occasion. It came with the paying attention to more than people thought he did. “And then I was met by a number of pretty faces, which no man in his right mind would complain about, you know,” he pointed out with a grin. Hoping that it was clear he included Eskel in that number, scars and all.

There were those golden eyes again. Watching him, even from behind his hair. Taking him in. Seeming to try to piece together what he meant.

Who had hurt him like that?

How many people had winced away from his scars? Or treated him like a monster?

“Why do you do that?” Eskel finally asked quietly, eyebrows knitting together. When Jaskier only tilted his head, ignoring the cool wind that blew around the barn, he expanded on the question. “Comment on my looks.”

The frown that crossed his face wasn’t something that Jaskier could help. “Because you have good looks, and it’s clear no one tells you that enough. None of you seem to hear what you deserve often enough, but you always seem the most shocked… So I try to tell you when it crosses my mind,” he said with a shrug. Eskel was truly stunning. They all were, in their own ways. “Scars don’t erase your beauty, and anyone who’s told you otherwise is an absolute fool. It’s just part of who you are. And yours are more prominent than most peoples.”

That pretty face twisted as he looked at him.

Jaskier continued before Eskel could argue. “Besides. Clearly, Geralt agrees with me. So I can’t have awful taste, at least on the looks front. I can’t say much for personality given that he’s also slept with Yennefer, but she’s as sexy as she is scary so…”

Eskel blinked at him owlishly as he kept talking. “Geralt- well. He’s known me for a long a time,” he pointed out, glancing away in what could only be described as awkward.

“And rather well, from my understanding,” Jaskier teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Was that a blush? Oh, that was cute. Jaskier wasn’t sure he’d ever seen a Witcher blush like that. Especially not in embarrassment and outside of any threat.

“We’re not any- it’s not- I- We-“

The words came out in a stammer as those golden eyes flicked back to him, wide and practically concerned. Like Jaskier was going to be upset or disgusted or- any of the above and then some, really.

“Sweetheart. Dear Witcher. Please do not start apologizing. Frankly, I can’t blame him or you. Nor would I want to. Despite the age difference, I’m sure I’ve slept with more people than at least one of you. And with far less respect than you have for each other,” the bard said before Eskel could work himself into a tizzy of sorts. “Given the opportunity, I’d absolutely take the chance on sleeping with you myself.”

If anything, that flush deepened as Eskel’s jaw worked to come up with something to say. Jaskier just had to hope he hadn’t pushed it too far given how uncomfortable Eskel seemed to be with his attention.

Finally, the Witcher turned to leave. “We should finish our chores out here before you freeze,” he mumbled softly, Lil’ Bleater in his arms and turning to disappear out of the stall they had been talking in.

Shit.

“Almost done!” Jaskier promised, trying not to worry too much about how that had gone.

Still, he was going to have to talk with Geralt about potentially sleeping with his brother if the opportunity ever arose.

Chapter Text

Wintering in Kaer Morhen was stressful at the best of times for Lambert, but now there was the fucking bard. Geralt’s fucking bard. A human.

Some of his earliest memories were the sacking of the Keep.

Having a human around only made those starker. Bringing back things he could be sure if he remembered or not. The smells of smoke in his sleep. The yelling. The blood. It was hard to be certain where his memory ended and his imagination began, especially in the middle of the night.

The only thing keeping the redhead sane was the letters from Aiden in their enchanted notebooks. They’d swapped them a few years ago, holding onto them to keep in touch. It was a nice way to know the person he was closest to was doing alright when he wasn’t ready to bring him home for the winter, and he wasn’t sure Aiden would appreciate it either. Cats and Wolves weren’t known for getting along, even if Aiden was stable. Comparatively.

Usually, it took longer into the winter before Lambert had to rely on the book like he was now.

Replies could take up to a few days, but that didn’t stop him from writing. Gave him something to look forward to if he knew that he would hear from Aiden soon. Hopefully.

A,

I should have stayed south with you this year like you suggested… Geralt’s bard showed up with the dumbass on the back of Roach half dead. And I’m trying really hard not to break his fucking nose.

Do you think if I rolled myself down the mountain it would keep me from dying before I got to the bottom? I could be a pretty big snowball by the end of it, and then I wouldn’t have to deal with the dumbasses up here or the stupid bard.

He keeps fucking flirting with me, and I’m going to throw him off the ramparts if he doesn’t stop.

Feel like this means you should come next year. Then at least I won’t have to deal with whoever shows up alone.

Not even including the fact that Geralt and Eskel are making this awkward.

Kill me now.

L

~

Lamb,

You’ve got the bard? Like the ‘Toss a Coin to Your Witcher’ bard? You’re joking! I wanna meet him. You have to introduce me, I feel like the renditions we’ve heard are ass. Not really sure I care about him as a person, but I’m curious what he actually sounds like.

The old Wolf letting him in is what really shocks me, honestly. You lot are protective of that old Keep of yours. Even from other Witchers. What’s the issue with Eskel? I thought you got on with him.

No snowballs with you in the middle. Even you can’t survive that, don’t be stupider than usual.

And if you want to bring me north, you’ve gotta figure out how to keep me warm. I hate the cold.

Haven’t seen the Caravan so far. Might run into them further south if I hear rumors, but I’ll find you either way when the thaw starts so don’t get your brothers to kill you between now and then, yeah?

A.

P.S. Isn’t it a bard’s job to flirt with people?

~

A,

I swear to whatever you hold holy, I’ll kill you too if you take his side. The fucker hasn’t stopped flirting since he got here. I can’t even tell if he means it. Which is worse.

No shit. Couldn’t send him back down without killing him, so I get that, but that didn’t mean he had to be so fucking friendly. For him, anyways. No swiping at him and only some minor threatening which is such bullshit.

I do like Eskel, but him and Geralt have been together for decades, despite the fact that they think they’re being subtle, and Geralt has clearly fucked the bard. (Bard has fucked him? Unclear) So now they’re all dancing around each other like none of this is going on and the rest of us can’t smell the hormones on them. Plus, Eskel and Geralt usually share a room half the time and now they’re not. Weird. Don’t like it.

You can share my bed, don’t ruffle your fur about it. If the human can function, so can you.

Apparently, the dumbass is a viscount? The fuck?

I’ll do my best. Can I kill them? And if you run into your brethren, try not to go completely off grid again. That sucked.

L

P.S. He’s not a bad musician, at least. I’ll let you have that for free if you don’t bring it up again. He might be good if he wasn’t so annoying and wanted to hear all my stories.

~

Lamby,

Ha. Love that you’ve got the family drama this year and not me. Tables being turned sucks for you, but I’m personally kinda enjoying this. Does the bard want to sleep with Eskel too? Or Eskel with the bard? How’s that going? Couldn’t they just. Have a threesome? Might be fun, if he’s not exactly scared of any of you. Sounds like he’s not, and then you could at least have something semi-normal.

Matchmaking might actually make this all easier on you.

How does a viscount become a continent renown bard?

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you like me. Big cozy puppy to cuddle with? All to myself? I’d be so spoiled.

A.

P.S. No killing without me to help.

P.P.S. Sweet Melitele, now I really do want to hear him. I’m done, I swear.

~

Kitty,

Just to be clear, you’re not cute. I’ll show you a ‘puppy’, if you’re not careful.

I don’t want to fucking matchmake. I want them to grow the fuck up and leave me alone. Bard seems interested in Eskel. Eskel is too awkward around people he doesn’t know well, though I think he’s warming up. Caught them in the library the other day. Eskel seems to like having a scholar around, so that doesn’t hurt?

And we were all playing cards the other night when Eskel let the bard flop in his lap. Fucking cheater. Not sure if it was a distraction for Geralt or helping Eskel, but it was not helpful to getting the game done.

No idea.

Keep the family drama next year, I don’t want it.

L

~

Lambchop,

Are you sure you don’t want to fuck the bard too? You’re talking about him an awful lot, sweetheart.

And I’m adorable, didn’t you know? Your threats are cute.

Sounds like the bard might actually be interested. I’d say he might be flopping in your lap too, if you let him, but you haven’t really described what sounds like interest? Besides the fact that you haven’t described fear, he just seems friendly.

A.

~

Oh, fuck you.

L

P.S. Why do you know what interest from a bard sounds like?

~

All you had to do was ask.

A.

P.S. Wouldn’t you like to know?

Chapter Text

Days and then even a week passed as Jaskier settled into the Keep, Geralt slowly allowed back on his feet. Well, slow for Geralt. A wound like that would have kept a regular human down for months, but not the famous White Wolf. Of course not.

Chores took up much of their time, especially once Geralt was back on his feet to do jobs that needed a pair of Witchers. Like building up the walls or fixing bigger disasters that had come up over the year.

Despite the fact that Vesemir insisted some of these were unnecessary or that he could handle them. Jaskier was finding it clear that he really was the parent figure of the group and tried to handle much of it himself. Whether that be repairs or his sons wellbeing or keeping the home together, Vesemir wanted to provide for them in his own, quiet way. Eskel and Geralt, even Lambert, had nothing of it when they thought it was too much for one.

It was all rather sweet, even if none of them actually spoke much about it.

Besides the occasional argument.

Cards or reading and music were what took up the afternoons. While all of it was still work, it was rather domestic at the same time. Much more relaxing than anything Jaskier had done on the Path, certainly, and just as much work as teaching a room full of young adults.

Maybe less because young adults were idiots. These three, at least, had Vesemir to keep them in line, so it wasn’t up to Jaskier’s new classroom management skills to keep them in line. Probably for the better, he’d only been teaching a brief while, and he was really not in the mood to break up a tussle between three men who were much bigger than him. (Maybe only slightly, but no one would know that by looking at the bard).

Besides, not being the adult of the group meant that he could participate in their less violent antics. Like cards, teasing, flirting, and the occasional snowball.

Things were slowly settling into a rhythm.

Even Lambert seemed to warm up a little to him, though it was quick to disappear if Jaskier accidentally slipped in an endearment. Especially if Jaskier implied that Lambert was his in some way. Made him wonder if the other had a partner elsewhere.

It was something that Jaskier wanted to after, and he would have if it was any of the others. The tentative truce he had built with Lambert was far too fragile for such a question.

Particularly when none of the others had explained it away as such.

That didn’t start the redhead from occasionally appearing whenever Jaskier was playing in whatever corner he had found, practicing or composing. So silent that the bard was never quite sure when he arrived, and the angry Witcher was quick to disappear the moment he was spotted. Occasionally with a shrug or a ‘not horrendous, I suppose’.

That was how Jaskier found himself performing through a miniature set for the Witchers one night when Eskel had finally asked after his songs. Something the other had never stopped to listen to, as far as Jaskier was aware, though he was sure the man had heard them.

Maybe Geralt groaned a little when he sang Toss A Coin, but Jaskier merely winked before continuing on with the set. Fishmonger’s Daughter earned laughed from Lambert and rolled eyes for Vesemir, though the older man seemed to have no actual issue with it beyond the fact that it wasn’t his most polite song. His more well-known songs were easy enough, and Jaskier got the joy of prancing around the room like he was in a tavern rather than just four Witchers for the winter.

No one could say that anything would stop Jaskier from putting on a proper show. Not even the lack of a proper audience.

They also couldn’t say he didn’t know how to play to his crowd.

There wasn’t any proper ballads in this, mostly just fun songs that would get them going or make the group happy. Nothing too serious even if they weren’t used to people singing a Witcher’s praises.

Besides, he had a proper love song to finish up on, one that he spent most of sitting on the edge of Eskel’s chair. Making the other turn a bright red even as he had a slight smile, glancing away.

“Oh, would you three just fuck already,” Lambert grumbled at the end of the song.

Because apparently Jaskier’s leaning over the arm of Eskel’s chair and winking at him was where the redhead drew the line. Right after he’d caught the other man’s gaze, of course. He couldn’t let such an act go to waste.

“Like I’m not trying,” Jaskier grumbled, pulling himself off the edge of the chair, uncaring that everyone else in the room could certainly hear them. And that they all knew he knew they could hear him. While also certain that he had never been unclear about his intentions.

“See! The bard’s even trying. Could you three figure this shit out before it gets even more painful to watch?” Lambert continued, motioning to Jaskier while Eskel’s face turned a flustered and more deeply embarrassed shade of red, and he seemed to sink into his seat now instead of enjoying their antics like he had been moments before. As if that would help in not having to deal with this mess or get Lambert to shut up about it.

Anything to avoid the fact that Jaskier had flirted with him since he’d arrived.

“Fuck off, Lambert,” Geralt growled even as Jaskier had stepped away to put his lute back in its case. He had tried to make his case already, but no one had listened to him so far.

Lambert just folded his arms across his chest. “Why? The three of you clearly have some awkward flirting going on that I’m tired of fucking watching. Figure it out like sensible people and fuck,” he snapped back. “It’s not like you haven’t all fucked by proxy anyways, so-“

“I think that’s enough,” Vesemir interrupted.

“Bullshit! I’m right and you know it. You can smell them too, so don’t even start with me. It’s suffocating!”

Oh. Huh. So there was some smell of emotions. Geralt had never actually confirmed that for him, Jaskier noted as the case clicked shut. Finally turning back around now that he’d had a moment to gather his thoughts, he glanced between the arguing duo and the look of absolute mortification of Eskel’s face. That wouldn’t do…

“You know, Lambert dear, I’ve made my thoughts on this matter very clear,” he commented, interrupting before Geralt could get into it again, a hand resting lightly on his friend’s arm.

Geralt paused in stepping towards Lambert, raising a brow at the bard in confusion. Witchers might work things out with violence, but Jaskier never had been that type, even when it meant people potentially fighting over him. As gallant as it could be, they had been having fun. He wasn’t going to ruin a good night just because Lambert got tired of watching them flirt.

“Actually, about all of you.” He winked towards Vesemir, earning an eye roll. And a gagging gesture from Lambert, to top it off.

“But let’s not going to push anyone towards things they don’t want or aren’t ready for.”

“That’s- not the point,” Lambert retorted, gaze turning Jaskier. Those golden eyes narrowed like he was trying to avoid snapping at him for using an endearment again. “I’m tired of watching you three dance around this like it’s not hanging over everyone in the whole goddamn Keep at this point.”

But Jaskier just tilted his head a little, brow raised. “I’m sure you can have more patience around this than me. I refuse to make Eskel more uncomfortable than I already do.”

“Oh please-“

“You don’t make me uncomfortable.”

The words were soft, but they were the first spoken from the recent object of his affections, earning the entire room’s gaze on him. Eskel shifted a little before sitting up a bit straighter, though he still seemed to be hiding the scarred half of his face behind his hair.

“Oh?”

A quiet clearing of the throat before Eskel pushed on.

“You don’t.”