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Ciri wakes disoriented and panicking, not in the woods as she’s been for the last few weeks, but not in her bed in Cintra either, waking after a long nightmare. It takes a few moments for her to recognise the inn from last night and for her breathing to settle.
Pushing the heavy blankets away, she rolls over to see Jaskier and Geralt curled up together on the other bed, the witcher's starting to stir and lifts his face from where it's tucked against dark hair. He pushes himself up to one elbow, looking at her over Jaskier and offering a small smile, before dropping a kiss to the bards head, standing up and running a hand over his face with a yawn. Jaskier stirs and Geralt leans down to murmur something to him, watching as he rolls into the vacated space and pulls the blanket tight round himself.
Geralt raises a questioning eyebrow at her as he heads towards the door and she scrambles out of bed to catch up. He pauses by his packs with a sigh, before extracting one of his padded doublets and returns to drops it over the bard who sleepily tucks it around himself.
The two of them head downstairs in comfortable silence, following the smell of porridge. They end up settling by one of the windows with bowls in front of them, and Ciri debates how to phrase what she wants to ask as she eats.
"How much of what they say is true?" Geralt blinks a her and hums quizzically. "About witchers."
"That depends on what they say."
She rolls her eyes. "I mean, that you don't have emotions seems pretty untrue."
He stays quiet for a few moments to finish his porridge. "It varies. The trials affect everyone slightly differently. The basics are the same, sure, but for other things." He shrugs. "Potions work better for certain people, in some cases signs are stronger, others are more stripped of emotion than me or have higher pain tolerance."
He looks out the window, trying to catch sight of Roach to check on her, and Ciri shifts nervously. "You and Jaskier?"
"Ciri." There's a clear warning in his voice.
"I was just wondering how you met, and how long you've known each other?"
"Ask Jaskier, he loves to talk about it."
"Are you two…?" She trails off at his glare and tries to quickly pull on an innocent expression. He stands abruptly to get another bowl of porridge and then heads for their room. It takes her a moment to get to her feet to follow him, and she decides to not comment on the reddening tips of his ears.
---
Jaskier bounces ahead of them as they head out towards the stable yard, lute over one shoulder and gesturing wildly. His smile's not one she's familiar with, soft and fond rather than the wide one he wears while performing.
There's a loud whiny as they enter the stable yard and Roach pulls on her tether to headbutt Jaskiers chest and snuffle happily as he rubs her forehead. "Hello girl, have you missed me?"
"Clearly." Geralt nudges him aside and slides Roach's saddle into place and hands Jaskier her bridle as he starts tightening all the straps and securing saddle bags. They work comfortably around each other and, for such a usually grumpy horse, Roach is so obviously happy to see the bard it's adorable.
Jaskier moves further into the stable block when they've finished tacking her up and Roach moves to follow him before Geralt catches her bridle and gets an indignant snort in response. He stops beside a grey mare and starts repeating the process, ignoring Geralt’s raised eyebrow.
When they're ready to go, he offers Ciri a leg up onto his own mare and grins when she accepts, swinging himself up easily behind her. He looked small when standing next to Geralt earlier but he can't be that much shorter as he easily rests his chin on her head while he sorts the reins.
---
After about a week on the road Ciri gathers up the courage to ask Jaskier what Geralt had been apologising for in the inn. The witcher's out searching for some food so it's just the two of them in the camp, Jaskier leaning against a tree strumming odd, unconnected bits of music with Ciri propped against his side.
"There was a whole adventure, with dragons, treasure and everything. He left me behind at the camp, alone, and when I caught up to him he was upset and angry with … anyway he took it out on me. Said a lot of things he didn't mean that hurt a lot." He sighs, looping an arm round her shoulders and tugging her closer to press a kiss to her hair. "When you're..."
He's cut off by a quiet crunching close to them in the woods, sounding like dry leaves being stepped on by something fairly heavy, and Jaskier stills beside her. He slowly reaches down and reaches two fingers into his boot and it takes Ciri a moment to recognise what he's sliding out between them is the hilt of a dagger. He rises into a crouch, setting his lute aside and guiding her behind him, lines of his body tense.
After a couple of moments he slumps back with a groan as Geralt appears, from the opposite direction that he headed out from. He raises an eyebrow at the two of them and drops the birds he's holding on a nearby stump ready to be plucked for roasting.
About an hour after they finished eating as the fire burns low, Jaskier drops onto his bedroll with a last flourish of his lute and sets it aside. Geralt settles beside him a moment later, letting the bard tuck in against his chest before pulling the blanket over them.
Silence falls over the camp for a about a moment before Geralt almost throws himself away from a laughing Jaskier. "Get your hands off me. How the hell are you always so cold?" The movement shifts the blanket enough that she can see Jaskier's hands slide out from under the bottom of Geralt's shirt before their pinned to his side in the witcher's embrace. She rolls onto her other side but falls asleep to their muffled argument.
---
"You know Jaskier has a dagger in his boot?"
Geralt just hums in response, following Ciri's gaze to stall across from them. "I think there's another in his lute strap. Why? If you want one we can show you how to use it if your grandmother didn't." He turns to face her fully at her silence and takes in her puzzled expression.
"Ah. Much as he tries to stay with troupes or caravans, he travels alone a lot." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You've seen him playing his lute, he's got steady hands, fast but controlled." Ciri nods, perplexed by the turn in conversation. "Most of the time he doesn't think to use it, rather talk his way into and out of trouble. Or call for someone else, or use his fists on more occasions than he'd probably like me admitting to. But he's dangerous with a light blade. Especially at a distance, got one of the best throws I've ever seen. Musicians, artists and the like always have an edge because of how they've learnt to control their hands and wrists."
She just blinks at him in surprise, both by the amount of words he's just used and by the concept as Jaskier as a fighter, let alone a competent one. She'd been blinded by the fact that she'd only ever met him at banquets or parties, parading and playing. Geralt just offers her one of those half smiles of his, and a tinge of guilt makes her flush and look away.
"I've never seen him reach for a blade as a first reaction, but he's nothing to scoff at, Little One. Ask him to teach you to play when we reach Kaer Morhen if you like, he'll be delighted, and you can see if it helps."
She nods without looking at him but lets him guide her towards the weapons stall to look over the offerings. After a short argument with the stallholder, Geralt ends up with an angry scowl and she gains a small pair of matched daggers, with tiny engravings of birds on the hilts.
When the two of them return to the camp Jaskier is sprawled by the fire, within reach of the cooking pot containing what smells like stew. He's not dressed in the blue outfit he'd been wearing when they left, but a baggy, oversized shirt it takes her a moment to recognise at Geralt's. The witcher just raises an eyebrow at the bard, seemingly used to this, and drops the loaf of sweetbread they'd picked up at the market on his stomach.
---
A wary quiet falls as Geralt follows Ciri into the tavern, a hand between her shoulders to guide her. Eyes follow them as they head towards the bar and the inkeep sets his jaw and glares.
After a few moments the soft plucking of a harp picks up and Ciri hears Geralt sigh, looking over at the bard just as she starts singing, but before she can ask there's footsteps following them in.
"Essi!" The bard by the window turns to face the door as Jaskier shoots past the two of them and barely has enough time to move her harp to one side before he scoops her up to spin her. There's grumbles from a few of the patrons at the cut off song but they trail off quickly as they notice the lute across Jaskier's back, assuming he’d be joining her in playing.
The two bards talk for a few moments, gesturing wildly, before Jaskier starts strumming a familiar song and the other bard, Essi assumedly, joins in. They play a handful of jaunty songs as Geralt orders food and finds a table in an out of the way corner. They sound really good together, voices blending with the familiarity of long hours of practice, and the whole tavern sings along to some of their songs.
By the time some of the crowd is starting to head out, they’ve shifted to quieter and sadder songs, finishing on one with no instruments, just their harmonising voices.
Cos although you say good day to me
I know I don’t belong.
And although you hold my hand and say
‘I love you’, you are wrong.
Because love does not exist here
In this garden there’s no feeling,
And you say the words so often
That I barely know the meaning.
There's a melancholy silence across the tavern as the two of them finish and take their bows. They get respectful nods as they head for Geralt and Ciri's table and several more coins are pressed into their hands from teary eyed patrons.
As soon as Jaskier gets near enough Geralt tugs him into his lap, burying his face in the side of his neck and holding him close. Jaskier pulls back after a moment, cupping Geralt's face and pressing their foreheads together before whispering something too quiet for her to catch.
Ciri looks away, feeling like she's intruding, and turns to find Essi watching them with a soft smile. She catches Ciri's eye with a wink and bows deeply, introducing herself with a smile, "I'm Essi. Me and Jaskier travel together occasionally."
"Fiona."
Any further conversation is cut off by food and drink arriving for the bards, and the two dig in eagerly. Jaskier doesn't move from his spot on Geralt’s lap and the witcher's arms stay wrapped round his waist for the rest of the evening.
---
Geralt gently catches Jaskier's wrist as the bard passes where he's pacing around the camp, mumbling lyric fragments to himself, and tugs him down to lie on the bedrolls, keeping him there with a hand on his chest.
Jaskier pouts up at him but Geralt ignores him with such practised ease that Ciri can't help but stifle a giggle. The witcher however is looking out at the surrounding woods, frowning, and Jaskier catches his free hand, tangling their fingers.
"I assume you're keeping watch tonight?"
Geralt nods and offers a small smile, pressing a kiss to their joined hands before standing up and grabbing a blanket from the packs.
"There's something out there I don't like."
"Surely it can't be too bad?" She bites her lip, the last farmstead they passed though hadn't said there was trouble.
"I've been travelling with him for fourteen years, you won't change his mind. Come here little one." Jaskier holds out his arms and Ciri dives into them, snuggling against his chest as Geralt flicks the blanket over the two of them.
He walks a couple of circuits of the camp, grabbing his swords and some potions before dropping into his mediation position by their heads. Jaskier starts to hum a lullaby, so quietly that she can feel more than hear it, and Geralt snorts softly but reaches out to run a hand through her hair before it comes to rest on Jaskier's shoulder.
One thing that's become clear since the bard joined them is how much Geralt cares for him. He's happier than those first few weeks when they were alone, more relaxed, but also so much more free with his affection. And he's so, so aware of Jaskier all the time, orientating himself around him with such ease that she's not even sure Geralt's aware he's doing it.
She’s torn between wanting this journey to last forever and wanting to arrive at Kaer Morhen to start the training Geralt promised her, and the last thing she hears before drifting off is Geralt’s gruff voice speaking to his bard.