Chapter Text
It took several weeks for Geralt to realise that Jaskier wouldn’t court him in any way that Geralt had seen others court before. His bard had evidently decided that since he was now in charge of the courtship method after accepting Geralt’s courtship, that he may take artistic licence to any and all forms of courtship.
The first clue that Jaskier was picking from different methods was given the morning after his acceptance of Geralt’s suit; “We shall take the same period they do in the South. A year should do it.”
Jaskier was going to make Geralt go through an entire year’s courtship.
Hearing this Ciri giggled, Vesemir chuckled and both Lambert and Eskel laughed in his face.
Fuck
***
This was the first time that Jaskier wanted to seriously court someone and knew it would be the last. To add to this, he was a man of the arts, he wanted to woo Geralt in such a way that others would write songs of their courtship period. So, he’d decided on a year based on a courtship he’d seen on his travels.
There were several ideas he quite liked from different areas of the continent. There was the gifting of flowers with meaning, braids to show intent, jewellery, food, and the most important perhaps, armour and weaponry. The last was going to be the trickiest for him to perform, given that Geralt needed Witcher grade weapons and armour and there were very limited places to acquire such pieces.
He wouldn’t be able to acquire new swords for Geralt, nor would he want to. But the armour he could.
That was why he made his way to see Vesemir whilst Ciri was distracted by the three younger Witchers. They all insisted that they were playing a battle simulation for the lass, but all Jaskier could see was a two on two snowball fight to the death in the courtyard.
“You want to give Geralt new armour.”
“Yes.”
“And why does he need new armour?”
“Well,” Jaskier knew when he was nervous he spoke with his hands, as did the Witchers, so he’d tried over the winter to not speak with his hands. An entire winters worth of practice and he was speaking with his hands. “When I was in –“
“Jaskier. Why do you want to give Geralt new armour.” He didn’t phrase that like a question.
“I want him to wear something that shows that I know who and what he is and that I will stay with him. That I, not approve per say, but that I understand that he’s a Witcher. I – well I also wanted to ask if I could ask for some for myself, as well as more training.”
The wizened Witcher appraised the bard, “You wish to show that you are binding yourself to him and will share his life with him.”
Jaskier sighed in relief, the Witcher had put to words exactly what he’d been trying to say. Except, perhaps more succinctly. “Yes, that’s what I want to show him.”
“They’ll be ready by next winter. Training I can help with for now, but you’ll need to do some with Geralt or others on the road.”
“Understood. Thank you, Vesemir.”
***
Nothing much was happening between Geralt and his bard, not from what Lambert could see and smell. They each smelt happier certainly, but they didn’t give any indicators that they were moving forward in their relationship. That and he knew that the Little White was sleeping in their chambers with them at night.
He and Eskel though had progressed very nicely if did say so himself. And he did.
Each night after a practice or battle session with the Little White he and Eskel would take turns massaging the pains of the day away. Last night had been his turn to be made into a puddle on their shared bed, Eskel pulling and kneading the stress out of his shoulders and body.
They spoke of past experiences and a thousand and one trivial things. Each night they spilled more secrets and wants than they knew what to do with.
Lambert told Eskel about how he’d missed the other Witcher during his travels and regretted when they would meet up only to depart soon after. Towns had no need for two Witchers more often than not.
Now though, with their Contract in place, they wouldn’t have need for parting so soon. There would be periods where they both stayed in place together. It did not matter where, though they did discuss the logistics of their usual travels and possible meeting points.
Lambert already had plans for requesting one of the sorceresses for a xenovox. Yes, it wasn’t a fool-proof plan, but it would ensure that they were able to more easily keep in contact.
It would also allow for one or the other to contact if they needed help. It would also allow Lambert some peace of mind knowing that he was reachable should Eskel truly need him.
There had been too many close calls for Lambert to know that Eskel too must have had times where he thought he wouldn’t make it back for winter.
***
Geralt and Jaskier stunk of joy. Any time they were both in a room it immediately filled with the scent. They would lay snuggled together in front of the fireplaces spread throughout the keep, commonly with Ciri curled up with them.
The three looked like a family, tucked into one another like they couldn’t bear to be separated for a second.
Eskel wanted that for himself and Lambert. He knew that they too probably stunk of happiness when they were together, but he wanted to addition to their duo. It was too soon, he knew, to broach the idea of a child or other companion for himself and Lambert. They needed time to settle into what they already had, they didn’t need the added confusion of another person or being in the mix.
That didn’t stop Eskel from wanting something a bit more for the two of them.
***
It was during their daily siege training that Ciri noticed that the snow was slowly lessening, there were less snowstorms and it seemed that spring was finally starting to come into season.
This both excited and saddened her. Jaskier can earnestly court Geralt now. But it will be a year until we see Lambert, Eskel and Vesemir again.
There would be no more siege battles, talks with Vesemir after hide-and-seek would stop as well. Though she deeply loved Geralt and Jaskier she also loved the hardened Witcher men she viewed as family. Knowing that they each needed to depart for their respective Path’s did not ease the ache she felt at the thought of separation.
***
Flowers. He needed flowers.
Not just flowers though, they needed to be the right flowers. When Geralt had asked Jaskier for suggestions of where he wanted to travel during the year Jaskier had not hesitated. There was a town near Oxenfurt that Jaskier knew of. It was surrounded by fields and fields of flowers, as far as the eye could see.
They couldn’t make their way directly there though. The flowers would bloom in late spring to early summer. It was too soon for them to head off in search of flowers.
Right that instant however Jaskier did not appreciate the lack of flora he saw in each town or city they passed through.
Ciri had been dragged into the flower madness when Jaskier had explained to her the importance of the flowers, the meanings behind them.
For he and Geralt there would be two meanings though. There would be the traditional sense of the language of flowers, but there would be their own story in the flora. If he picked wild holly or the foliage of berry trees Geralt would remember the red of Jaskiers jerkin, and the bushes on a mountain on a quest for a dragon.
Flowers or leaves from nearby ponds or lakes and he’d remember a request to guard the bard for a night in Cintra.
Lilac and gooseberries were out though. And so far on their journey they’d seen a startling amount of the stuff.
This made no logical sense to Jaskier until Geralt was off fighting an alghoul and Ciri was off playing with the local children.
He felt the surge of energy that accompanied a portal and smelt her perfume before she stepped through.
“Yennefer.”
“Jaskier. In your old age I see that you’ve become lax in your diet.”
He’d been eating a pastry that he’d made with the assistance of the tavern owners’ wife. Trying to perfect something that he’d be able to make for Geralt on the road.
“And in yours I see you’re now prone to becoming senile. We agreed to meet up later in the year, is everything alright?”
With the tip of her fingers she snatched some of the pastry from Jaskier’s hand, “Everything was fine until a little bird told me that you were wooing your Witcher with flowers.”
“Ciri has betrayed me,” He clutched at his chest as though wounded. “Whatever shall I do?”
“If you’re done being dramatic,” She ignored his snort. “I have it on good authority that if you follow the path laid on this map,” Said map was deposited on the table between them. “There’s work for a Witcher and plenty a field of flowers. Flowers of the non-lilac sort anyways.”
“What do I owe you?”
“A day of distraction for Geralt. I want Ciri all to myself for once without worrying that he’s hovering like a mother wolf looking after her cub.”
“Agreed.”
***
True to her word, once Jaskier convinced Geralt to follow the map, Jaskier found that there was plenty of flora to be seen in early spring. Alstroemeria and anemone were woven into crowns or adornments for the Witcher.
Then it was a bird of paradise pinned to Geralt’s saddlebags. Delphiniums and heather dotted amongst his hair.
The White Wolf became known for the bright and colourful flowers he wore coming into towns and cities. No longer was it his white hair that denoted who he way, it was the curl of a bouvardia behind his ear. The bright red of an amaryllis woven bracelet.
Flower vendors flocked to areas they knew would be on the Path of the Witcher. Hocking their wares to passers-by, playing on the romance of the Witcher and the bard who bedecked him in living beauty.
They also flocked in hopes of attracting Jaskier’s eye. New hybrid colours or flowers became more well-known throughout the continent. Popularity blooming once Geralt of Rivia wore the blossom, flush across his cheeks at the attention of all who looked upon him.
The first vendor who tried to sell a lilac and gooseberry crown to Jaskier, having seen the Witcher sniff in its direction, received a twisted smile and tongue lashing.
Very soon no one who wanted the business of the bard carried any lilacs or gooseberries.
Jaskier was highly amused until Yennefer started finding ways of stuffing the flora into his clothes, shoes and saddlebags. Everything he owned suddenly smelt like the sorceress. This persisted until they came across Triss Merigold.
She took one long look at a bedraggled Jaskier, sniffling Witcher (who’s nose was red from how often he itched and scratched it due to the overwhelming scent coming from Jaskier) and worried Cirilla. With the flick of a hand she sent off Ciri and Geralt in search of some herbs and materials and quickly rid Jaskier of the jinx.
“You won’t come across any buttercups on the trek Yennefer has you on.” She commented, pulling more lilacs from his hair.
The bard hummed, also plucking at the left-over blossoms littered on his jerkin, “I know, there’s a specific spot I know that has the best ones that I want to show Geralt. It’s near Oxenfurt.”
“They’ll be blooming in a few weeks.”
Their atmosphere of calm was shattered by Geralt and Ciri bursting into the room, somethings guts in their white hair and herbs clutched in hand.
***
At first Eskel was perplexed. The village he was in, having rid them of a nasty situation, offered him both coin and flowers. Needless to say, he took the coin and left the flora behind.
By the third contract he took he listened to the sob stories that those offering the blooms to him. They claimed that it was due to the love that the White Wolf had for the things. Geralt was apparently traipsing about the continent covered with the things.
The image of Geralt fighting a kikimora with a flower crown was very amusing to Eskel.
So, after his fourth contract he took both the flowers and the coin. Tucking the peach coloured rose into his armour.
***
If anyone else offered Lambert another flower, he was going to make them eat it. Yes, he’d heard that Geralt was lollygagging around with flowers up to his eyeballs, but that didn’t mean that Lambert had to.
“Red roses, the way to show your love! Come and get your symbol of love today! Say it like a Witcher!”
Eskel looks good in red. Lambert thought, maybe there was something to this flower business.
***
Sneaking braids into a Witchers hair is harder than I thought.
Even the slightest twitch in Geralt’s general direction had the Witcher alert and prepared for combat. It was very inconvenient for Jaskier, who only wanted to sneak in a braid or two for Geralt to wake up to.
On his first attempt he’d told Geralt that there’d been a bug in his hair. Unfortunately for the bard this proved to be true. A large arachnid was crawling near the pale hair and being that he’d claimed to be moving the bug and not trying to do anything nefarious to Geralt’s hair Jaskier had picked the thing up and deposited it outside of their camp. He could still feel its legs on his hands.
The second through fifth attempt had been in the quiet of a rented room during Geralt’s baths. Those were easily disguised as washing his hair or working out a knot due to monster fighting.
His sixth and seventh attempts had been interrupted by raiders and bandits. Eighth due to a nightmare that Ciri had, he didn’t blame her for that, and he and Geralt had held her close that night to sooth her.
The ninth though was a disaster and could not be explained away. Geralt had slept in such a position that Jaskier had needed to straddle his chest to reach his hair, and when the Witcher awoke to the image all Jaskier got was a “I thought we agreed to wait until the year ended?” and warm hands on his hips.
So, after the ninth attempt at putting braids into a sleeping Witcher’s hair proved futile Jaskier point blank asked the man in the morning if he could braid it.
“Geralt, I need you to sit down and still for a few minutes whilst I braid your hair. And no,” He interrupted as the Witcher opened his mouth to argue, “It won’t interfere with your vision or fighting. And yes, they will look spectacular. Really highlight your cheekbones. Any other questions?”
His lover huffed, “Will I be getting a crown out of this?”
“No, though you’d look lovely with a braided crown that will have to wait until we reach Oxenfurt.”
***
This was followed with three weeks of different braids in Geralts hair. None of which contained flowers much to Ciri’s and Geralt’s dismay.
Since the braiding began Jaskier only made bracelets and pinned the blooms to Geralt’s armour. Townsfolk similarly despaired at the sight of a crownless Witcher. They’d heard the tales of the crowned White Wolf and had wanted to be witness to such a sight.
Flower trade was still in full swing, but the crowns were seen less and less. Elaborate bouquets and wreaths taking their place as people witnessed the decoration of Roach’s saddlebags.
***
He wasn’t missing the crowns. There was nothing too miss.
Each morning he woke to the feel of Jaskier carding his fingers through his hair, along his scalp. When they travelled anywhere people looked to his hair not for the colour but to see what Jaskier had done in the morning.
Small braids behind the ears, a large thick complicated one down the middle of his scalp, dozens of intricate ones interlocking at his nape.
But no crowns, flower or otherwise.
Ciri still paraded with brightly coloured crowns. The colours a stark contrast to her pale hair. His had looked similar, reds, blues and greens looking ever more vibrant in his hair.
***
Several weeks of Geralt looking morose at the loss of his flower crowns they arrived at Oxenfurt. The three met with Yennefer after a night’s sleep and she took Ciri away for the day.
Two birds, one stone. Thought Jaskier.
***
Jaskier led Geralt away from the main city and through several flower fields. From the smell alone Geralt could now identify the flora they passed, accustomed to them after having his bard weave them into his life.
He also knew when they’d arrived at the right field when Jaskier stopped and all Geralt could see as an ocean of yellow. Buttercups filled the land, stretched out either side of his vision, and ran further than he could see.
His bard led him further still, they trod lightly between the delicate flowers, avoiding crushing them. They continued until they reached a small patch of stones, an area cleared between the flowers.
“Now sit and be patient.” Jaskier pushed on his shoulders to position Geralt.
For the next hour Geralt sat alone whilst Jaskier ventured through the sea of yellow to find blooms to use to decorate Geralt. The next hour he spent humming as calloused fingers carded through his hair and set to work.
***
As he picked the flowers, he used an ointment that Triss had gifted him on the stems. She’d promised that any bloom treated with it would remain in season until the next year.
He braided sunshine into Geralt’s hair, creating a crown resplendent in colour and matching its owner in many ways. When he’d finished, he let Geralt know, and was witness to the tentative touches that Geralt placed along the crown, feeling both the flowers and twists in his hair.
Those hands that sought to protect humanity, and now Geralt’s small family, gently prodded at the work Jaskier had put in his hair. Cataloguing how many flowers were in it, the type of braid that Jaskier had done, they worked methodically around the Witcher’s head and ended on either side of the bard’s face.
“I love you Jaskier.” Jaskier felt as though all the blood in his body was relocating to his face, ears and neck.
Staring back into those cats-eyes Jaskier whispered back, “I love you too.”
***
Jaskier knew what Geralt’s hand felt like in his. He knew its dimensions only in relation to his own. The bard also had knowledge of the width of his Witcher’s neck, his wrists and torso. All these pieces of intimate knowledge proved to be very near worthless when trying to purchase the Witcher jewellery.
“Do you know his ring size?” This was the third merchant he’d spoken to. They were all helpful until they realised that, no, he didn’t know Geralt’s ring size.
“Perhaps you could bring him in for a sizing?” The fourth suggested. Which he couldn’t do due to this being a surprise for the damned Witcher.
The fifth he visited, a young woman with a small stall, her wares displayed behind shielding magic that would most certainly do something nasty to grabby fingers, made a helpful comment, “Do you know anyone who has similar hands?”
Which, yes he did. But he did not know where either Eskel or Lambert were. They could have been anywhere on the continent, but he did know someone who could track them down.
***
“Why do I want to ask Aunty Yenn about Uncle Eskel and Lambert?”
“Because, you’ll get a nice shiny of your own, and I will make you flower crowns for the rest of my life.” He was not above bargaining with his child.
“You’ll also throw in extra hot cocoa ingredients for when we go to back to see Vesemir. Oh! And get Geralt to make more buns for me.”
“Deal.”
***
When Eskel stepped through the portal he was surprised to see Jaskier on the other side.
“Is Geralt in trouble?”
“No, but I am. Gimme your hand Eskel.”
***
Stepping through the portal that Yennfer, the most terrifying sorceress Geralt had unfortunately brought into their lives, had made Lambert wasn’t expecting to see his lover cheating on him with Geralt’s.
“What do you think you’re doing to Eskel!?” Lambert stormed over to the two of them. They still held one another’s hands and seemed to be looking at his in consideration.
He also hadn’t been expecting for both Eskel and Jaskier to reach for a hand each and interlock their fingers.
“No, he’s too large. Mine are closer to Geralt’s. The only issue is the scar on my left hand. May interfere with the sizing.”
Jaskier lifted both his and Lamberts hands, “Agreed, they’re too big. Mind coming with me to the stall? I want to purchase everything I can whilst you’re here.”
“What’s going on here exactly?” Lambert asked, staring at the interlocked hands of Eskel and Jaskier. If he didn’t like what he heard Geralt would be down a songbird.
“I am trying to get a ring for Geralt, but I didn’t know his ring size. But your hands are like his, so I wanted to see if I could manage using one of you for sizing.”
Lambert considered it, “A ring may be the wrong choice, gets in the way with punching. An anklet or cuff would be a better choice, less of a hazard. Or you could get him a body chain, they tend to be larger and designed in a way that doesn’t lend to strangulation as necklaces do. There’s also the possibility of earrings, the White Wolf’s considered getting some before.”
Looking up he was surprised to see the stunned expressions on both Eskel’s and the songbirds faces.
“What?”
“You have thought about this Lambert. Tell me, did you get a gift already for Eskel?” Sorry Geralt, the songbird had to die.
“If you did I don’t want it now,” How do you always manage to make me feel like I am being stabbed when you deny me? “Give it to me when we meet up again, and I’ll give you yours.”
***
To say that she was surprised to see the same bard come back to her part of the market was an understatement. Yes, she had been expecting his return, but not with two large Witcher’s by his side.
They looked formidable, dressed in their armour and with the swords poking out from over their shoulders.
“I found my sizing references. But not for a finger ring sorry, I am in the market for an anklet, cuff and body chain. They need to be easily removed by hand, but not by force, and they need to not get in the way of armour. See exhibits A and B.” The bard gestured to the hulking figures beside him.
Pulling together every ounce of courage she had she asked, “In gold or silver?”
***
Lambert’s forethought and insight proved valuable. Each cuff he and Eskel tried he would point out any faults Geralt may find in the practicality of the piece of jewellery. A cuff that Jaskier had thought nice proved to be a liability for it would interfere with Geralt’s gauntlets.
At the end of the day he walked away with a shiny ear cuff for Ciri in the shape of a wolf, one which was spelled not to fall off and would not require a piercing hole for her to wear it. He also walked away with four pieces for his Witcher, three of which Eskel and Lambert heartily approved, another they didn’t for he had purchased it before they had arrived.
He also commissioned three pieces from the woman, promising to return with the reference and materials she needed to complete them.
***
When Geralt returned from his contract that day he walked into their reserved room to find a golden anklet placed on his pillow, a beaming child on her own bed staring at him in the doorway, and no bard in sight.
“Did he at least show you how to put it on me?”
***
A week later, buttercups still in his hair and still in the same inn Geralt received a second anklet. Similar in make but not design. This one was made of gold as well, and had a dragon imprinted on it. The first one had had a lioness. Unlike the first one Jaskier placed this one on him, rolling up the leg of his trousers and placing a kiss on his ankle before and after he placed the jewellery.
“I’ve got everything I need from here; we can make our way back onto the Path. There’s rumour of a few contracts further south.”
***
It was when Jaskier was invited to perform in a nearby court that Geralt received the third piece, a body chain that laced over his shoulders, connected low on his sternum, and looped around his back. This too was made of gold.
The chain, though delicate looking, was thicker than the usual ones used for such an adornment. Geralt thought that on anyone but someone with the bulk of a Witcher it would look bulky and unappealing. On a Witcher though the length and width of the chain appeared smaller and in proportion to the wearer.
Jaskier advised that the chain could be worn both over and under his clothing but wouldn’t fit over his armour.
When it was gifted Jaskier stunk of nerves, “Do you like it?”
“I don’t know how to put it on, but yes, I do.”
He knew that once Jaskier put it on him that he would not take it off unless another piece was given to him to replace it. Any and all Jaskiers gifts were treasured items to Geralt, and he would remove none from his person unless forced.
***
When they met again, after the fiasco with Jaskier and Geralt, Eskel was gifted with a bouquet of red roses and a charmed vambrace. The vambrace had inscriptions of protection on it, but what made Eskel tear up was the inscription inside. Imprinted on the metal in gold was their contract.
In small golden letters down the inside of the armour was their entire contract, signed with a golden rose about and below the text.
His own gift for Lambert, a new belt with a wolfs head made from silver, worth more than three contracts and the reason for many nights sleeping on the road, felt paltry in comparison. If not for the smile and way Lambert gazed upon the belt, Eskel would have worried that Lambert would take offense to his gift.
Well, that and the night they spent together, without wearing or using their gifts, put any doubts from his mind.
***
He’ll eat anything I put in front of him.
Cooking was evidently the talent of Geralt in their small trio. Ciri was too young to be patient enough, and Jaskier’s attempts were basic and usually lacked the pop of taste Geralt infused in his own dishes.
This did not deter Jaskier from attempting to make their dinners on nights where Geralt was too tired, or breakfast in the morning so as to see Geralt wake, sleep mused, and smile softly at Ciri and Jaskier around the fire.
However, Geralt’s iron stomach was not shared amongst the family, and Jaskier sometimes produced dishes only consumable by those with a Witcher’s stomach.
“No more pies Jaskier. We agreed. I need you to swear to it now.” Ciri waggled her finger in front of Jaskier, pointing at the ruin of a pie and the man who made it.
Sighing, looking at the black mush on the table, Jaskier agreed, “I swear, no more pies.”
***
The first thing that happened when Jaskier and Geralt arrived to Kaer Morhen was that Vesemir practically dragged Jaskier from his horse and into the keep.
Jaskier’s foot was still in the stirrup when Vesemir tried to pull him off.
His urgency and rush made sense once they both entered Vesemir’s room. The armour, both sets, were finished. They were both beautiful.
Geralt’s was darker and larger, focused on protection from monsters and fangs rather than swords and fists. Jaskier’s in comparison was lighter, both in colour and weight. As Jaskier had asked the armour for himself was made for fighting the human kind of monster, light to allow him to move quickly.
When he’d first made the request to be taught to fight by Geralt the Witcher had laughed. Not cruelly but with joy. This had confused Jaskier until he was awoken earlier than normal and made to do drills alongside Ciri. His lover was a sadist at the worst of times.
Neither set was completed though, each had a missing piece on their left shoulder piece. Small divots in the armour displayed where the pieces were missing.
An oval divot was on Geralts, and a divot in the shape of a wolfs head was on Jaskiers.
He’d made the hasty request of Vesemir when shopping for jewellery, after Lambert pointed out the impracticality of rings on a Witcher. So, he had commissioned a buttercup encased in resin, set in an enchanted oval setting, to be placed on the left shoulder of Geralt’s armour. Left because it was the side that one wore a wedding ring on.
For his own, a wolf head, similar to the medallion of his Witcher, would adorn his own armour. Both pieces he’d been keeping hidden, hoping to surprise Geralt with both the armour and meaning behind the buttercup and wolf head.
Knowing that Geralt could hear him, having followed but allowed he and Vesemir privacy, Jaskier called out to his White Wolf.
***
Nothing could have prepared for the sight of the two sets of armour in Vesemir’s chambers. There was a clear distinction between the two, in size and practical use.
Jaskier, his love, had asked Vesemir to make them armour.
“It’s my last courting gift to you, well, one of the last. It’s the last big one Geralt.”
Reverently Geralt approached and touched the armour.
“The left shoulder is what I want to talk to you about.” Geralt’s hand reached for the empty shoulder. “The spot is for our symbol in a way. To mark what we are to each other without it getting in your way.”
He traced the oval shape on his armour, “I didn’t think we needed to mark one another.”
Vesemir snorted, “Sure you don’t. You just happen to walk around with buttercups and braids in your hair all the time. I don’t know how I missed it before.”
The buttercups were still as fresh as when Jaskier picked them, less in quantity due to their travels, but no less in their meaning and beauty.
Geralt felt Jaskier take his hand, as soft as feather, and place something in it. “When you’re ready, and we’re wearing the armour, I’d like you to put it on me.”
“What about me?”
“Also, when you’re ready and wearing the armour.”
“Tomorrow then. In the morning, with Ciri there.”
“Of course.”
***
Bright and early the next morning Geralt rolled out of their bed, not having slept at all due to his excitement. Ciri and Jaskier were in a similar state and buzzed with energy as they set about getting dressed.
There was nothing in their Contract on what to do in this situation. By the laws of the Contract they were already married. But, as Jaskier had asked to marry and court Geralt in his own way he could understand that his bard wanted to recognise their bond in another way.
They took their time dressing, each piece was handed to them by Ciri, she delicately placed them into their hands, each time they thanked her. For the larger pieces of Geralt’s armour she needed help from Jaskier, both lifting and fitting the pieces to Geralt.
***
When each male was dressed Ciri confusedly handed them what was left. A medium sized pouch was placed with the armour when the Witcher’s had hauled the items in the night before. She had seen the small bag that Jaskier kept the wolf head and buttercup in, and it was not the pouch she handed to the men.
Jasker crouched to her level, pulling Geralt down as well. “We both made a promise, to raise you together and in our image and to protect you.”
She knew, she’d written that in their Contract, heat in her ears as she listened to them pledge to be her parents.
“So, my Little White, terror of my life, and daughter mine, you’re part of this too. We’re a family and no one gets left behind.”
From within the pouch he pulled out a small vambrace, the same design both Geralt’s and Jaskier’s armour, though closer in colour to Geralt’s. It too had a piece missing she noticed, when Geralt strapped the piece to her arm.
“And this,” He held up his wolf’s head, No not his wolf’s head, mine. He held up Ciri’s wolf’s head, with a buttercup in it’s jaws, “Is for you. Because you’re ours as much as we are each other’s.”
When she launched herself at the men, she called her fathers she distantly noted that the armour was not soft or as warm as they were without it on. She also noticed that she had tears streaming down her face, for though she knew she was theirs there was nothing that she had to really show that. Yes, there was the Contract, but it was different.
Children carried their parents’ names with them, and she carried her dead parents’ ones. They carry their parents’ appearance, their noses or lips or eyes, her hair was a shade different to Geralt’s and she could never forget that.
She’d been with them for the year and picked up habits, but it never felt like enough to be theirs in a tangible way.
And Jaskier, her perfect soft-hearted bard of a father had seen that. Recognised that she wanted more than the Contract. How her eyes tracked the movements of his hands in Geralt’s hair as he braided it, hungry for her own braids.
Always hungry for something of her own from them.
“You’ve always been ours Little White, even without Destiny you’d be ours.” Geralt whispered into her hair.
***
It felt like Destiny to Jaskier when he fixed the wolf with the buttercup to Ciri’s vambrace. The token was charmed to be as strong as the armour it was fixed into and given that it was put into a Witcher grade vambrace Jaskier felt certain it would not break.
When he affixed the buttercup to Geralt’s shoulder it still felt like Destiny. The resin, an amber to match Geralt’s eyes, glinted against the darkness of the armour. Said eyes tracked every movement of Jaskier’s hands when he revealed the token.
The click that the wolf head made, in his own armour, felt final. Something had clicked into place then as well, Destiny, Fate, something intangible recognised Jaskier and Geralt and Ciri in that moment.
***
Extra
“You bought four things from her.” Lambert remarked at breakfast after Jaskier and Geralt’s semi-marriage ceremony.
“What?” But as Jaskier was biting into some bread it sounded more like, “Woo?”
“When were in the market she said four items, counted them in each of the bags, and put them into the pouch. There was the chain, and the anklets. What was the fourth thing?”
Every Witcher looked sharply to Jaskier when his scent spiked.
Eskel seemed to understand before everyone else did, “You said ‘finger’ ring. You clarified finger Jaskier – “
“Maybe this shouldn’t be said in front of Ciri.” Remarked Vesemir, grabbing the girl by her middle and running off from the table.
Geralt was staring at the back of his bard’s head with amazement.
“Well, I know exactly how big I needed that ring didn’t I. No one goes around grabbing a single finger Eskel, I didn’t need help with that ring. After all I grab it quite a lot, don’t I?” Jaskier winked at Geralt. Grabbing his now empty plate and cutlery he made to leave the room, “Let me know when you want that gift too Geralt, it’ll look lovely with the chain and anklets.”