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Education at Kaer Morhen involved a lot of things. Different weapons, physical fitness, hunting, foraging, identifying poisons by scent, even sewing to mend clothes. However, there were a lot of things it didn’t involve. Things that a witcher couldn’t possibly need. Music was definitely one of those things, Jaskier mused because Geralt obviously had zero appreciation of the art. But other things too, which were less about being cultured and more about basic skills.
There were moments where Jaskier suspected things but didn’t want to believe them, Put them down to Geralt being Geralt. He obviously preferred information first hand, always seeking out the alderman or asking locals where to find the poster of the contract. Sometimes Jaskier just watched Geralt in front of a board like it was the world’s greatest word search. At times, he’d skip over a contract and Jaskier couldn’t figure out why. But pointing it out usually had Geralt frowning at the piece of parchment and huff out something about it not striking his fancy (as if witchers could ever pick and choose amongst contracts) or it not being valuable enough (as if that had ever stopped Geralt before - the man seemed to thrive on helping the poor). A pattern emerged after a while though and Jaskier didn’t want to think about the implications. The contracts Geralt skipped over didn’t contain the words ‘contract’, ‘monster’, or ‘witcher’. Which led to some alarming conclusions.
It wasn’t something Jaskier could delicately raise, lead Geralt to realising he knew and wanted to help. Also, Jaskier couldn’t very well corner the man and accuse him of being unable to read. Because if he was wrong, Geralt’s allegedly nonexistent emotions would be very hurt. So, Jaskier did the simplest thing he could. Whenever Geralt went to look at a village noticeboard, he tagged along and pointed at random papers, reading them out loud. Once or twice he fudged up words but Geralt never seemed to realise that the advert Jaskier was pointing at was for a laundry service rather than for a tailoring service he was describing.
“Why are you pointing out such useless adverts?” Geralt snapped.
“Just thought you’d be interested.” Jaskier shrugged and plucked the contract Geralt was looking for from the board. “Here. This is the one you want.” It didn’t have any of the key words Geralt tended to look for. There was no thanks thrown his way and Geralt stomped off, the parchment clutched in a tighter grip than usual.
It went on like that, each time Jaskier got more and more certain he was right, Geralt couldn’t read.
“What do you think of this one?” Jaskier plucked a random advert and pushed it into Geralt’s hand who stared at it with contempt. It was advertising a litter of puppies from a good guard dog lineage.
“What about it?” Vague, carefully eyeing the advert but not acknowledging any of it. Jaskier’s heart broke a little. Given how often he had shoved the necessary contract into Geralt’s hand, it was obvious Geralt was trying to figure out whether it was a contract or not. The price in the corner suggested it wasn’t but the poor couldn’t always pay in coin. Sometimes other goods or services were written down which he would negotiate verbally.
“You’re not tempted?” It was cruel but Jaskier had had enough of the song and dance.
“For so little?” Geralt scoffed, hedging his bets on Jaskier not screwing him over by putting something other than a contract in his hands all of a sudden.
Ever so gently, Jaskier took the advert and pinned it back up to try and hide the sound of his heart breaking. “You’re right. I don’t think there’s much for us in the village. Come on.”
They turned away but Jaskier saw Geralt look over his shoulder, a small frown on his face as he looked at the advert Jaskier had put back, clearly not understanding. Returning to their room at the inn, Jaskier knew he had to end the farce. He pulled a book from his bag and passed it to Geralt who stared at it, more disgusted by it than any kind of head or guts he’s waded through on a hunt.
“What’s this?”
“A book.”
“I know that. But why are you handing it to me?” Geralt set it to the side, not even glancing at it.
“Given we’ve got a bit of downtime and that you’ve tended to your swords last night, I thought you might fancy a bit of a change. Does the title not intrigue you?”
A gruff “no” had Jaskier’s eyebrow raising as he sat down on the bed with a small smile. “You mean, a monster compendium is not something of interest?” He had picked it up a little while ago, intent on learning more about Geralt’s potential enemies, even if the book didn’t have all the facts correct, it was a good starting place. “Or maybe you’d want to go through it with me and correct the mistakes?”
Watching Geralt try and find a way out of it was painful. He frowned, frowned harder and ended up growling in his throat, turning away from the book with a moody “no”.
“I could teach you,” Jaskier offered quietly. “If you’d like to read.”
Silence stretched and Geralt’s back was stiff, obviously coiled tight and ready to either fight or flee. “Since when has a witcher ever read a monster to death?” That sounded far too much like something Geralt had learned from someone else and all Jaskier could think of was a young Geralt being denied the chance to learn to read over and over again with such cruel and mocking words. However, it wasn’t a no.
Moving quietly, Jaskier grabbed the book and settled on the bed with enough room next to him for Geralt to join, if he so wished. Cracking the book open, he began to read out loud. It took a minute but Geralt eventually joined him, looking angry and disinterested but Jaskier knew better. He was scared, terrified even, of being mocked, of being found wanting. Not breaking his reading, Jaskier adjusted his grip on the book so he could pull his finger under the words as he read them, letting Geralt follow.
They spent a few days like that, Jaskier reading aloud and Geralt watching, listening to how the words sounded compared to how they looked. Jaskier even picked up a few other books, much simpler, suited for children really. He swapped out to one of those books as they sat in a clearing in a forest, away from everyone and everything. Shoulder to shoulder, Jaskier got Geralt to haltingly grit out the sentence “the cat lost his hat”. It was perhaps the proudest Jaskier had ever been and the small, satisfied look on Geralt’s face was worth it.
Months down the line, when Geralt was able to sit next to Jaskier and read aloud from the book of monsters and laugh together about the inaccuracies, there was a soft lull. In fact, Geralt looked nervous as he pushed to book into Jaskier’s hands.
“I’ve got something for you.” Eager, Jaskier sat up, smile wide. He was expecting a kiss, maybe some oil for his lute or, if Geralt was feeling especially romantic, some jewellery. “It’s something I’ve been working on in secret.”
Reaching into his pack, Geralt pulled out a bit of parchment folded in half. On the front of it was a crudely drawn heart, obviously done by someone who wasn’t artistically inclined. It was shoved gruffly into Jaskier’s hands and he opened up what was a handmade card.
To Jaskier,
Thahk Thank yuo.
I lov yuo.
Geratt Geralt.
It was, without a doubt, the most precious thing Jaskier had ever been gifted, spelling mistakes and all. Because while he had gotten Geralt reading, it never even occurred to him that writing would be another skill to teach. All the education at Oxenfurt was something Jaskier had taken for granted until now. With Geralt by his side, he realised it was a gift, one that he was delighted to share with his beloved.