Chapter Text
The day starts normally - well, the new normal at least. Ever since they had returned from Redania, Jaskier has been going out of his way to avoid Geralt and it has become fairly disruptive to his routine. He hadn’t realised how much time he had been spending with Geralt until he starts finding excuses to avoid him.
One afternoon, about a week after they had gotten back and Ciri’s new magic lessons had started, Jaskier is washing dishes with Vesemir when he remembers the note he read in Sterebor’s office. Since he’s alone with a walking history book, Jaskier decides to sate his curiosity.
“Vesemir, what’s Gorthur Gvaed?”
The unexpected question startles the old Witcher. “Gorthur Gvaed? That’s the Viper keep. Why?”
Jaskier shrugs and channels a nonchalant attitude. “I saw a note about it in Sterebor’s office, but it didn’t seem relevant to Ciri so I didn’t look further. It’s a viper keep?
“Yes, it's the stronghold of the School of the Viper the way Kaer Mohren was the home for the School of the Wolf. Gorthur Gvaed was sacked around the same time as Kaer Mohren. It was down in Nilfgaard and the last few regimes have been hostile to non-humans. I’m sure there’s still a few Vipers slithering around though. They and the Cat School are the reason people think Witchers are murderers. Both Schools broke off from the Order because they didn’t have a problem taking contracts on humans and resented being told to stay neutral. The Vipers are ruthless and bloodthirsty, and they have done a lot of harm to Witchers’ reputations.”
“Oh,” Jaskier says, “I can see how that would cause problems.”
He finishes up his chores, hoping Vesemir can’t tell how distracted he is. As soon as he gets the chance, Jaskier grabs his notebook and flees into the woods surrounding the keep. He finds his favourite cleaning, the one with the standing stones that has always made him feel oddly at home, and starts to dissect what he has learned.
There are multiple factions of Witchers, and Dijkstra had sent him after the wrong one. Jaskier has to take a moment to boggle at how much his life has shifted because someone didn’t know the difference between the School of the Wolf and the School of the Viper.
He’s made so many friends; Geralt, Yen, Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir, Pris, Essi, Ciri . He’s gotten to be a real poet with his works enjoyed by some of the most influential people in court. He’s gotten to be his true self and bond with people without the pressure to betray everyone around him. He’s gained so much happiness since this mission started.
If he hadn’t been sent on this mission he would have never realised how unethical Redanian politics are. If the Vipers are as bad as Vesemir says, Jaskier would have never realised that Witchers were as individualised as anyone else, that even though they are deadly fighters, they can be kind and caring. He would have never seen how much they act as a family, how they all dote on Ciri. How they’ll extend that kindness to a helpless stranger. All the friends and comfort Jaskier had gained was because of an ignorant mistake.
An ignorant mistake that he feels no pressure to fix. What he should do is find a way to get in contact with Dijkstra to warn him that the actual threat is not being monitored. A year ago he would have been jumping at the chance to offer to go back and be a part of the new mission. Now, however, Jaskier knows he’ll be doing no such thing.
He doesn’t want king Vizimir to be killed. Not for any personal liking, it would just be a political disaster that the Redanian people don’t need hovering over their heads. But Jaskier isn’t going to be the one to warn them. Dijkstra is supposed to be the mastermind. He can figure it out, or he won’t, but Jaskier is going to stay in his new home with all of his friends. It is all guesswork anyway, and the words of a vindictive bully . As far as Jaskier is concerned, Dijkstra sent him to die with no grand deception involved. If Dijkstra doesn’t like it he only has himself to blame. Jaskier isn’t giving up this life on the chance that it will save Vizimir’s.
None of this changes anything. Jaskier decided that he could never betray his friends a long time ago. He just knows how and why he was put in this situation originally.
The sound of footsteps crunching through the underbrush startles him back to the present.
Yennefer steps out from between two trees. Jaskier is surprised to see her. She usually only comes out to the woods if she is accompanying Ciri.
“Jaskier, can we talk for a moment?” Yen asks, sitting on one of the low, moss covered stones.
“Well, you have successfully ambushed me,” Jaskier jokes, “I imagine it’s important.” He can’t imagine why Yen would corner him alone so far from the keep, and on top of his recent revelation, he is very anxious about what she wants to say.
"I wanted to apologise"
Jaskier had been expecting the worst. That Yen had discovered his secret and was here to turn him into a toad or some other squishy creature. An apology wasn’t the last thing he was expecting, because it wasn't even on the list to begin with. Confused, he blurts, "For what?"
"For the way I treated you when we first met. I could tell you were keeping a secret about yourself and I was worried for my family. I invaded your privacy by reading your mind, and I treated you with suspicion that you didn’t deserve. However, I’ve recently realised the truth so I know you aren't dangerous to the people I care about and so I am sorry for my previous behaviour."
It feels like a stone has sunk into Jaskier’s stomach and it made him want to vomit. He wasn’t sure if he was sick from the panic that Yen had figured him out, or relieved that she hadn’t killed him on the spot. "You know? But you don’t think I’m dangerous?"
Yennefer shrugs and smiles ruefully. "Anyone can be dangerous,” her grin turns malicious for just long enough for Jaskier to remember that she could incinerate him on the spot if she so chose before softening again, “but you're choosing not to be.”
“Of course! I care about you all, and I would never hurt any of you. I-” There is so much Jaskier can say here. He’s imagined being caught, of his secret coming out, but Yennefer immediately understanding that he isn’t dangerous is such a relief. It is dizzying. Jaskier has no idea how to express how grateful he is. “Thank you for understanding. I was so afraid of telling anyone.”
“Jaskier,” Yen said softly. Her eyes are kind and sympathetic. “I understand why you would be shy about telling the others. They hunt monsters, but they would never think of you as a monster just because of your heritage. Being part fae doesn't make you a monster any more than the Witchers' mutagens make them so. You’re a good person, Jaskier, and we all see that. You don’t have to be afraid of telling me or the Witchers that you aren’t fully human. None of us are, you fit right in."
The relief Jaskier had felt just a moment ago turns to panic the more Yennefer keeps talking. He’s grateful none of the Witchers are here to hear his racing heart. He somehow manages to keep a straight face as he internally screams Part Fae? Not fully human? What the fuck? What the actual fuck?! How did she even come up with that?!
Outwardly he says, "Thank you, Yennefer. That means a lot to me. I’m - ah - not quite ready to admit it to anyone else yet, though.” - since Jaskier isn’t even sure any of it was true - “Out of curiosity, what tipped you off?"
“That’s fine. I won’t force you and I won’t tell anyone else. Your secret is safe. I just wanted you to know that we would accept you no matter what. You don’t have to hide.” Her mouth quirks up at the corners in a wry smile. “Even if you are very good at hiding it. I almost didn’t figure it out, but there were some clues.”
Yennefer begins to tick off points on her fingers. "You’re resistant to magic. I can't use my chaos on you at all unless you're aware it is happening, and even then it is more difficult than it would be on a human. At first I thought it was a charm of some kind but something like that would have faded after a few weeks. Then I realised you were magic yourself, but you weren't a mage or part elf - I’m both I would be able to recognize either. Putting that together with your baby face, all of the near-death experiences you casually mention, and your love of nature you were either a fae or a dryad, and since dryads are all women I took a guess.”
“Well when you put it like that,” Jaskier says cheerfully. What she’s saying can’t be true. But if Yennefer says he’s resistant to magic, well, she is the expert and Jaskier doesn’t have a better explanation. At least she hasn’t figured out he was sent to spy on them.
“Jaskier,” Yennefer visibly hesitates and fidgets with her skirt with uncharacteristic nervousness. “I don’t mean to meddle… but, if this is what’s causing you to keep your distance from Geralt… You should know that he wouldn’t see it as a problem.”
Jaskier feels himself flushing bright red. “I - No, sorry, but no. We are not going to be talking about that.”
Yennefer is trying to matchmake him with Geralt. Jaskier will have to check that he didn’t hit his head on a rock, this conversation is getting more unbelievable by the second.
“Okay, but don’t let something you can’t change stop you from finding happiness. That is a lesson I took a long time to learn.” With that parting wisdom, Yennefer stands and walks away.
Jaskier waits until she must be out of sight and hearing before he hangs his head and laces the fingers of both hands through his hair.
“What the fuck? Fae? I can’t be Fae!”
“And why not?” a voice from behind him asks.
Jaskier shrieks and spins around. At the edge of the clearing is a gnarled old woman. Her dark, wrinkled skin looks just like bark and her clothes look like they are made from moss and other greenery. Her face, however, is shockingly familiar.
“Well little Buttercup, remember me?” the woman asks.
Jaskier takes a closer look and realises that he does recognise her. “Madam Ysabella?” he asks, dazed.
The creature - for she is a creature, Jaskier realises, not human like he’d thought - nods.
“How are you here?” he asks.
Ysabella gestures to the forest floor around them. The mossy stones spaced all along the edge of the clearing in a circle around the central one Jaskier is perched on. “When you talk of the Gentry in a faerie circle, you summon us. Did you not know?”
“I regret that I do not know as much about Good People and their customs as I should.” The only thing he can remember is that he needs to be polite and not make any promises. He isn’t sure how well he is going to manage, since he’s just had two life altering conversations in the span of a few hours. And it looks like he is about to be having a third.
“A failing that you might lay at my door,” Ysabella says gravely. “As a child I thought you had not inherited any of my son’s power.”
“Your son?”
“Yes, my son… and your father. He was briefly interested in the human world, just long enough to meet your mother, but he grew bored again quickly. I knew he left her with child, and children are so interesting to our kind. If I realised you took after him after all, I would have brought you back to Faerie to raise. You are too old for that now, however.”
At first Jaskier is too stunned to reply. The words don’t make sense. For a long moment he feels lightheaded and nauseous, just trying to come to terms with what he’s hearing.
Realising he needs to make a polite response, he gives the Fae a deep bow. “It is good to know you, Grandmother. I will always remember the care you showed me as a child with fondness.” Jaskier knows better than to thank a fae. She might be family, but she was the one who taught him to never thank the Good People. “My fa - ah, I mean, the Count - did he know?”
Ysabella tilts her head to the side. “I believe he suspected you weren’t his, but I doubt he realised what you are.”
“Oh. Well. I suppose that would explain some things.” Jaskier’s mind is still racing. If the man he had always assumed was his father suspected he was raising a bastard, it was understandable that he would treat Jaskier so badly. It doesn’t excuse his behaviour, Jaskier had still been a child under his care, but Jaskier can understand why he had never been good enough for the Count.
“This discovery must be confusing for you,” Ysabella says, breaking Jaskier out of his spiralling thoughts, “I have been meaning to speak with you on an important matter, but I did not know how to reveal myself after all these years. It is imperative that I speak with you now.”
“Of course,” Jaskier says, bracing himself for whatever information his long lost friend turned fae grandmother had been waiting to tell him.
“Child, what do you know of the Wild Hunt?”
*****
An hour later, Jaskier stumbles through the hallway of the garrison in a daze. He doesn't even realise that Lambert is coming the opposite way until a strong hand lands on his shoulder.
"Jaskier, are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost," the Witcher says.
Jaskier lets out a hysterical laugh. "Something like that," he says, patting Lambert's arm.
He has to tell everyone. Even if this is just a crazy dream, he has to tell the Wolf Pack what he knows. He can't keep this a secret, not when it is Ciri's safety at stake.
"I have to- There's something I have to tell everyone. Later. When Ciri's asleep." Jaskier isn't entirely sure that he's making sense, but Lambert's confused scowl morphs into his concerned scowl, so he probably got at least some of the point across.
Jaskier gives Lambert's arm another pat, thanks him and then retreats to his room. He sits down hard on the edge of the bed and puts his head in his hands.
He hasn't even started putting his thoughts in order before his door opens and an arm reaches through to drop a waxed cloth bag onto his chest of drawers. The arm retreats and the door is shut firmly behind it, so Jaskier goes to see what is inside the mystery bag.
When he opens it, the contents are enough to have tears running down his face. Lambert has given him a bag of the sweets he always denies sneaking Ciri. They're just clumps of sugar with food dyes added in, but Lambert gave them to him because Jaskier was upset and that is sweeter than any confectionery. Jaskier pops one in his mouth, and discovers that the lump in his throat doesn't feel so bad with the taste of sugar on his tongue.
Jaskier is more centred by the time Lambert knocks on his door. He’s gone over the conversation with his fairy grandmother countless times, and attempted to figure out how he is going to explain all this.
Wordlessly, he follows Lambert into the common room. The rest of the Wolf Pack are all waiting for him, seated in the various chairs. Geralt is standing by the hearth, and Jaskier is familiar enough with him by now to know the man is too restless to sit still, like a pacing wolf.
Lambert all by shoves Jaskier into the last chair with a guiding hand on his shoulder and then perches on the arm beside him.
Vesemir is the one to break the silence. “Lad,” he says, “You wanted to tell us something.”
Jaskier nods. He opens his mouth but all his carefully rehearsed plans have abandoned him. With a dark huff, he says, “I don’t know how to start.”
“Jaskier,” Yen soothes, “You know you can tell us anything. Is this about what we talked about in the woods?”
Jaskier swallows around the lump in his throat, “Sure, let’s start there. This afternoon Yennefer found me in the woods and told me that I didn’t have to be afraid of telling you all that I’m part fae.”
There is a brief second of silence, but Jaskier can feel everyone’s eyes on him and he knows in the next second they’ll start asking questions and giving reassurances. He has to press on. “I didn’t actually know that. I thought I was human. I had no idea until you told me -”
Yen interrupts him anyway, “You didn’t know? Then what did you think we were talking about?”
Jaskier holds up a hand to stop her. “Can we circle back to that?” he asks. He can’t let anyone get distracted from the rest of his story. He needs to tell them this first. If he reveals what he had thought Yen had discovered, they might not believe him, or they might not even give him the time to tell them.
“We were in a fairy circle when you found me. And we summoned one of the Good People while we were talking.” A gasp goes up from the people around him. Jaskier can’t look. He’s telling the story to the rug. “Not just any of them. My grandmother. I knew her as a child, but not who she was or what she was. She lost track of me when I lived in cities but found me again when I started to spend time in the woods here. And when she did she learned about Ciri.”
“What about Ciri?” Geralt growls.
“She’s - Her magic. The Elder Blood. There’s a war in the world where they live. Factions fighting over the power to travel through time and space. One of the sides is losing. They don’t have that magic and they’re looking everywhere to find it. There’s a group that travels through our world to kidnap slaves to work for them -”
“The Wild Hunt,” Vesemir interjects.
“Yes,” Jaskier agrees. “The Wild Hunt is looking for anyone with Ciri’s powers.”
Beside him Lambert swears and clutches at the knife in his belt like the Wild Hunt will break down the door any moment. Jaskier looks up at the rest of his friends to see expressions of fear and determination on everyone’s faces. Geralt looks like he’s ready to run into Ciri’s room and protect her from all comers.
“The Gentry you spoke to,” Vesemir is the first to recover and put thoughts together, “Your Grandmother. Does she want Ciri or her magic?”
“No,” Jaskier shakes his head wildly, “She said she was from a different court. They’re fighting against the ones who command the Wild Hunt. They don’t need Ciri’s powers because…” He trails off, the sheer ridiculousness of the explanation getting caught in his mouth.
He turns to the Witcher sitting beside him and rifles through his clothes to get to the pocket he knows contains Lambert’s flask until he can pull out the vessel and take a long gulp.
“Becuase they’re allied with fucking interdimensional unicorns .” He manages at last. Lambert is either too shocked by the pronouncement, or he sympathises with Jaskier’s need for a stiff drink, because he doesn’t take away the pilfered flask.
Jaskier takes another long swig of Lambert’s potent alcohol and braces himself for the questions he’s sure will follow. Vesemir makes him recount his history with Ysabella, as much of it as he can remember. Yennefer interrogates him about his grandmother’s intentions; whether she is offering help and what she may demand in return. Jaskier answers to the best of his ability. Ysabella had only told him that the Wild Hunt must not find Ciri. She had not offered any advice on how to do it.
Yennefer and Vesemir began a debate about whether it would be wise to contact Ysabella again. Vesemir argues that it would be better to stay away from the woods and avoid any more encounters with the Fae entirely, and Eskel agrees with him. Lambert joins in supporting Yennefer, who wants to get more information from Ysabella and find out what her terms are before deciding what to do.
Jaskier quickly loses the thread of the conversation. He quietly excuses himself after checking to make sure that no one needed any more information from him. After the stress from the day, he is crashing hard and just wants to be left alone in the privacy of his own room.
Geralt follows him out but Jaskier only spares him a tired and apologetic grimace before closing the door in his face. It sometimes takes Geralt a few minutes to gather his thoughts and Jaskier knows it isn’t fair not to give Geralt a chance to speak, but he has reached his limit for emotional conversations for the day.
The debate about what to do about Grandmother Ysabella’s news goes well into the next day. Jaskier only lasts until midday before he escapes from the garrison. The woods will be off limits until they have a plan one way or the other, so Jaskier finds a quiet corner on an outer wall where he won’t be in anyone’s way. It gives him a good view of the forest and it is a quiet place to think.
Soft footsteps sound behind him and Jaskier turns to see that Geralt has tracked him down. Jaskier pastes on a smile and observes, “I thought you’d be down there with strong opinions about Ciri’s safety.”
Geralt shrugs and sits down beside him. Jaskier surreptitiously checks his exits in case he needs to leave quickly. He’ll have to skirt around Geralt, so if the Witcher doesn’t want him to leave he will be stuck here.
“I’ve been waiting to hear what you think we should do. Of all of us you know your grandmother best and you would never put Ciri in danger so I trust your judgement on this.”
Jaskier turns to stare at Geralt in shock. He is completely flabbergasted by Geralt’s pronouncement of absolute trust. That Geralt would trust him with Ciri - with his daughter’s safety - so completely, is astounding. The weight of that trust warms him with pride while at the same time his stomach sinks at the idea that he doesn’t deserve it.
“Of course. I would never let anything happen to her.” Jaskier eventually chokes out.
“I know,” Geralt says simply, and then his eyebrows come down and he bites his lip. It is the most nervous Jaskier has ever seen him. Jaskier suddenly wants to be far away from here. “Jaskier,” he breathes, “I know you don’t want to talk to me, but please, I have to ask…”
In the small pause Jaskier can feel his skin going clammy and nausea rises up in his throat. He can’t find a way to escape or to interrupt Geralt, so the man stumbles on. “You said - that night - you said that you can’t. I was wondering - if things were different - would you want to?”
Jaskier can hear the insecurity, the unasked questions. He takes a breath and hates that it hitches with tears. He looks away from this wonderful man - so strong and still so sensitive, not afraid to be vulnerable - and he can’t bring himself to lie. He knows that a few simple words will stop Geralt from ever asking again, but it would break both their hearts in the process and Jaskier has never been an honourable man. In the barest whisper he admits, “Yes, Geralt. It’s not because I don’t want to.”
“Is it because I…” Geralt clearly bites back whatever he wants to ask. Jaskier immediately feels like shit for making Geralt doubt himself,
“No, Geralt, no. You're wonderful, the best man I’ve ever met. It’s just that…” but Jaskier still can’t admit to it, “It’s just that I’m just a coward and a cad and I know I don’t deserve you.”
“You’re not either of those things. You’re smart and talented. You’re so good with Ciri. You’re a good person, and nothing you’ve done can change that. You deserve to be happy, and I want to be the one to give you that happiness, if you’ll let me.”
Jaskier lets out a mirthless laugh. “You’re giving me too much credit, darling."
"I’m not.” Suddenly Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and looks him earnestly in the eye, “You went into Redania and put yourself at risk to help my daughter. You found out she was at risk again and you didn't hesitate to tell us. Those aren’t the actions of a coward or a cad. You're a good person. Whatever you're worried about can't be so bad that it would make you any less of a good person"
“I don’t want to fuck this up.” Jaskier wishes he could look away but Geralt’s golden gaze is pinning him in place. “Geralt, you’re so important to me, I care about you so much and I’m so happy here. I don’t want to lose you or any of my friends here.”
“You won’t,” Geralt says softly. "It will be okay. I would never force you to tell me something you don’t want to, but you can talk to me about anything. I’m here for you. There’s nothing you can say that will make you lose your place here."
Jaskier feels his defensive walls breaking. The weight of his secret is finally too much. Even if Geralt hates him for this, he has to confess. He can’t go on like this anymore.
Before he can talk himself out of it, Jaskier takes a deep breath and blurts, “Have you ever agreed to do something for a job, but once you found out more you realised that you really, really shouldn’t have taken that job?”
“Yes,” Geralt answers simply.
Well, that was probably true. If anyone could sympathise with having to make hard choices and regretting them, the so-called Butcher of Blaviken could.
"The RSS gave me a job.” Jaskier explains, “I'm not proud of it and if I knew then what I know now I never would have considered it. And I'm scared that if you find out then you'll hate me and I'll lose you and all of the people that I care about."
“What was the job?” Geralt cut off Jaskier’s rambling.
"I don't know how to start."
"From the beginning." Geralt strokes the back of Jaskier’s hand, making him realise that Geralt hadn’t let him go. It gives him the strength he needs to finally confess.
"The beginning. Right. Yes. But then I have to pick which beginning, the order things happened or the order I learned about them -"
"The order of how things happened," suggests Geralt dryly.
"Okay. Right, yes.” Nothing for it, Jaskier just has to blurt out the truth that could get him tossed right off this wall, “So Dijkstra found out somehow that Emperor Ehmyr contracted a group of Witchers to kill the Kings in the northern realms in exchange for restoring Gorthur Gvaed. I don't know how long he’s known that, but he found a Witcher in Novigrad and convinced him to teach me and a few other agents how to lie to Witchers - how to hide an emotional reaction. I also know how to hide compromising thoughts when a mage is reading my mind. I thought it was just standard training, but now I’m not sure.”
Geralt’s face is impassive. He doesn’t need training in how to mask an emotional reaction. He’s as impassive as a stone. Jaskier can’t stop now, the words are pouring out of him. The whole story came out in a rush: the steps Dijkstra had taken so that Jaskier would be able to honestly promise he meant the Witchers no harm, the stories Jaskier found out were lies only after leaving Redania, and the conversation he had with Luc when the thug found him again.
Jaskier can feel tears building up in the corner of his eyes. Geralt doesn’t say anything when he finishes his story. In the horrible silence Jaskier begins to beg, “Please Geralt, I didn’t know better. I only knew what I was told. I won’t - please you have to believe me - I would never sell you out now. I haven’t for a long time. Since before Luc even. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn't want you to find out why I was sent. If you thought that I was just using you- that you were just one of my marks - I wouldn't have been able to bear it."
Geralt finally takes a long breath. He still hasn’t let go of Jaskier’s hand and Jaskier takes as much strength from the contact as he can. “Would you have told them about Ciri?” is the first question he asks.
Jaskier bites his lip. He’s started being honest and he can’t stop now. “When I came here I thought the Service would never hurt an innocent child. I know better now, I swear, but yes, I probably would have at the beginning.”
“What made you change your mind?”
Jaskier tilted his head, trying to think back. “I’m not sure. It was everything really, but I only realised it slowly. Nothing was like what I was taught. You weren’t going into Redania and assassinating people. You’re a family that truly loves and cares for each other and you have friends here and no one is scared of you. The more I learned about how different things were here than they are in Redania the less I wanted to have anything to do with Dijkstra and his plots.”
“So you learned you were taught wrong and you changed your mind?” Geralt clarifies. At Jaskier’s nod Geralt snorts and squeezes his hand. “We knew you were still a risk to us at the start. We all expected that if you had the chance you’d sell us out to the Redanians. We didn’t trust you at the beginning, but you proved long ago that we can trust you now. Knowing that the spies think you’re going to stay loyal doesn’t change anything.”
“You mean you don’t - You don’t care?! I’ve been worrying about this for months for no reason?” Jaskier turns to Geralt to stare at him, eyes wide.
Geralt, with a deeply amused smirk, hums and says, “Sounds like it.”
Jaskier finally lets go of Geralt’s hand to grip his hair in both hands, “I could have told you after Luc! Oh Lebioda and his wisdom, I’ve been terrified of you all finding out and sending me away or worse and now you’re telling me that I’ve been a fool this whole time?”
“Jaskier,” Geralt tries to interject but Jaskier has been keeping this secret for so long and now the dam has broken.
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t even care that I was lying to you? That I’m able to lie to you?”
“Is there anything else you haven’t told us?”
There is one more secret that has been weighing on Jaskier. “On some of my jobs I killed people. It wasn’t self defence or an accident. They told me my targets were dangerous and it was for the good of Redania, and I didn’t question it,” he admits.
“Do you regret it?”
“Yes.”
Geralt pulls him into a gentle hug and Jaskier feels his eyes fill with tears. “You trusted the wrong people and they lied to you. They made you believe things that weren’t true and do things you would not have chosen to do. But now you know better and you won’t do those things anymore. I’m sorry you had to go through that. I wish I could have protected you from it, but I will not condemn you.”
Jaskier can’t help it, the tears spill over and he sobs into Geralt’s shirt. Geralt rubs his back and lets him cry. The weight of his secrets has been a constant, choking pressure for so long now. Having Geralt know the worst, most shameful parts of him and absolving him is unbelievable.
It feels like hours before he cries himself dry. Geralt doesn’t complain and doesn’t let go the whole time. Finally Jaskier sits up and wipes his eyes on a handkerchief. He looks to Geralt to see if there is any judgement or coldness in those yellow eyes. He finds only softness.
Geralt smiles, soft and shy, and says, “You were trying to protect me.”
“What?” Jaskier doesn’t know what Geralt means. He was lying to protect his own skin, not Geralt’s.
“You didn’t want to be my lover because you thought I would be hurt if I found out you lied to me.”
If Jaskier wasn’t red faced and blotchy from crying, he is sure he would be blushing. “Well, I mean, you could also argue that I was trying to protect myself from an angry Witcher.” A lover. Geralt wants him to be his lover.
“Jaskier,” Geralt breathes, and the tenderness with which he pronounces his name is enough to make Jaskier shiver. “Do you have any other objections?”
Jaskier shakes his head mutely. Geralt leans in and presses the lightest kiss on Jaskier’s lips. It’s perfect. It’s almost enough to make Jaskier start crying again. Geralt reaches up to cup Jaskier’s cheek and deepens the kiss. Jaskier clutches at the front of Geralt’s shirt where it is still wet with his tears.
When Geralt finally pulls back he is giving Jaskier that soft smile again. Jaskier mirrors it and feels warmth flooding his body radiating out from his heart.
“Was that alright?” Geralt asks.
Jaskier tilts his head forward so he can rest his forehead against Geralts. “Yes darling,” he says, “That was perfect.”
Everything continues to be perfect for a long time afterwards. Jaskier feels like he’s able to breathe again now that he doesn't have to fear that his past will ruin his future. He and Geralt take their relationship slowly, but Jaskier feels like flying with every soft touch and loving kiss. He practically bleeds love poems and is able to publish a book of them that earns him fame across the kingdom.
He does face some teasing after he admits to everyone what he had been worried about. Lambert is especially vicious, and has the annoying new habit of asking Jaskier “Are you going to tell the Redanians about this?” for every little thing from what they’re eating for dinner to the time Jaskier caught Lambert feeding baby squirrels. Lambert also corners Jaskier to ask him everything he knows about the Witcher he’d met in Novigrad. After Jaskier shares all he knows, Lambert and Geralt disappear for a few weeks and when they come back Lambert is wearing a second medallion around his throat, shaped like a snarling cat.
The Wolf Pack decides that they do want to ask Grandmother Ysabella more about the Wild Hunt. It turns out that according to Faerie law, Ciri is legally Jaskier’s heir, since he is in a relationship with her father, so she is considered claimed and under the court’s protection. Ysabella revealed that, since she is “not too distantly” related to the current king, both Jaskier and Ciri could make a claim on the throne if they gathered enough support within the court. For Jaskier that would be incredibly unlikely and the attempt would be foolish since his mother was human, but Ciri could reasonably make a bid for the crown because of her magical abilities. As a result, the Witchers can count on the support of the Ihuarraquax and their warriors, but the current king and crown prince are happy for them to stay far away from their court and any potential usurpers.
A few years after Jaskier arrived at Ard Carraigh, Mansfelf the spy master hears news that King Demavend III of Aedirn has been killed by unknown assassins. Not two weeks later, an undercover Redanian spy arrives at the village, surreptitiously looking for Jaskier. He goes down to meet the spy in a tavern and brings along one of Vesemir’s old books from the Kaer Mohren library that explains the Witcher schools. Jaskier informs the spy that the RSS needs to look for Viper Witchers, apologises that he has no information about them or their whereabouts, and then passes them a formal letter of resignation with the request that Dijkstra and the spies never contact him again. The spy looks like he is ready to spit acid, but Jaskier passes him over to Mansfeld and walks away from the last remnant of his former life.
That night Jaskier returns to the common room in the garrison he shares with his Witchers and his Mages. Lambert and Eskel immediately rope him into judging a bet on which one of them can do a standing backflip the fastest. The three of them get scolded by Vesemir for causing havoc and are sent to get dinner and are assigned the washing up when they are finished. After dinner he reads a bedtime story to his step daughter because she insists he is the only one who gets the character’s voices right. And at the end of the night he lays down beside his lover and falls asleep in his arms.
Jaskier couldn’t be happier.