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It was a known fact that Jaskier loved too much and too freely. Sometimes, he even fell in love with those he hadn’t met but felt they needed love all the same. Which was how he ended up with emotions towards witchers he hadn’t met beyond Geralt occasionally letting a name slip. It wasn’t the same kind of love he held for Geralt, it wasn’t all consuming, he didn’t want to kiss the other witchers silly but it did burn fiercely and involved a lot of throws and warm cuddles. Because, as Jaskier had helped Geralt work on his reading and writing, he realised something. None of the other witchers knew how to do that either. Which was how Jaskier ended up demanding he be allowed to go to Kaer Morhen with Geralt. He had a whole winter to remedy the mistakes their teachers had made. It wouldn’t magically make up for all the neglect but Jaskier would be damned if he didn’t try his best to slowly build scaffolding around them and start the process of patching in the holes.
The journey back to the old keep was more hazardous than Jaskier had even dared imagine. It didn’t help that Geralt told him most witchers died on the path, either too naive and new on their way out or too tired or injured on the way back. That was utterly appalling and Jaskier was in half a mind to demand that a new path be devised to make sure all witchers could get home and get the care they needed. Even if Geralt insisted this was for the best, an injured witcher had no prospects after all. Rather than argue, Jaskier kept his mouth shut and began scheming.
There weren’t many witchers left, the school of the wolf was a dying breed but, along with Geralt, three other witchers returned and Jaskier was delighted. It seemed that the whole family was together again. Not that they acted like a family, more like a bunch of pissy cats trying to establish territories because they couldn’t figure out how to share and snuggle. That did disappoint Jaskier, he had a lot more work cut out for him than anticipated. Still, he could put the beginnings of his plan into play.
“What are you doing?” Lambert sounded so utterly offended when he came across Jaskier settled comfortably between Geralt’s legs, both of them stretched out on a fur in front of a fire. Jaskier was holding a book and Geralt was reading aloud in a low, rumbling voice.
“We’re enjoying a good story. Care to join us?”
Snarling, Lambert stalked out of the room and Jaskier shrugged. It was a start, even if it wasn’t an auspicious one. However, it set things into motion because not two days later, Eskel had approached Geralt in the kitchen, softly quizzing him on reading.
“I could teach you,” Jaskier volunteered as soon as he heard, deciding to ignore the wide eyed, almost sheepish look from Eskel.
That was how an hour was set aside each day where Jaskier sat with Eskel, leafing through well loved books that Geralt had used, sounding out words together. After the third time, they ended up with a secretive audience in the form of Lambert lurking just outside the door, listening in. In the end, Jaskier left a book in his usual hiding spot and waited for Lambert to come to him. It took longer than he had anticipated, Jaskier had been shooing Eskel out the room and hanging around to tidy up after their lessons for a good week before the book was thrown by his feet.
“Stop mocking me.” Lambert had his arms crossed defensively over his chest and was glaring in a way that would have sent bolts of fear through most people. Just as well that Jaskier wasn’t like most. He’d seen the posturing, the anger and lashing out in Geralt before, knew all too well what lay below it. With the greatest simplicity, he picked up the book and sat down, opening it and giving Lambert an expectant look. After a beat, the witcher sat down next to him.
That was three witchers on their way to literacy but something still bugged Jaskier. Thankfully, he didn’t have to say anything because Lambert took matters into his own hand. He had a book with him one breakfast, furiously trying to catch up with the other two and master ‘See Spot Run’ at record speed.
“Why did you never teach us to read?” he asked around a mouthful of eggs, greasy fingers leaving marks on the pages.
A silence descended on the table as eyes turned to Vesemir who, for the first time since they knew him, looked uncomfortable.
“It wasn’t needed,” he began. “A witcher can’t read a monster to death.”
Understanding dawned on Jaskier then and there. He put his fork aside and stood with an “oh you poor dear”. It was barely audible over Vesemir’s mumbled “I was just a fencing instructor.”
Walking around the table, he easily settled on Vesemir’s lap, ignoring all social conventions regarding touch. Looking up at the witcher, he smiled.
“It’s never too late to learn.”
Given the possessive nature of witchers, one would have expected Geralt to get jealous. However, he seemed content for Jaskier to do as he pleased, spending time with the other witchers. All too soon, all four of them were piled together on rugs and chairs around a fire and frowning over their respective books while Jaskier flitted between them, helping and encouraging where it was needed. It was obvious Lambert struggled the most, the letters dancing before his eyes and never quite settling which made him growl in frustration and his book often went flying across the room. Only once did it land in the fire.
“I’ve made a decision,” Jaskier announced during a quiet afternoon. “You’re all coming along wonderfully with reading and I have so much more to offer.”
Four witchers looked at him a little fearfully, wondering if they weren’t enough. They didn’t say anything as Jaskier walked out of the room but the sadness was palpable. Until Jaskier returned with his beloved lute.
“If anyone wants to learn any music, I’m happy to teach them.”
While reading was a chore for Lambert, he took to music like a duck to water when shown songs, able to replicate the chord sequences Jaskier showed him quite quickly. He had a special love of raunchy singing songs. The only sad thing was that there was only one lute or any kind of musical instrument in the whole of Kaer Morhen. Though Jaskier was more than happy to sing along to whatever tune Lambert was picking out. Soon, they had a whole repertoire of witcher drinking songs they would happily belt out while the others thumped the table in time with the beat.
By contrast, Eskel seemed content with the softer side of things. In fact, he had taken a real shine to sonnets and would often be found discussing them in depth with Jaskier. Occasionally, Geralt joined in but he didn’t find as much joy in dissecting whether the “sweet smell of faded summer” was in fact a statement about the passing of seasons or whether it was the soft lament of two lovers growing old.
“What are you doing?” Vesemir’s voice pulled Jaskier from his quiet introspection. It was early, the sun was barely poking out from behind the mountains but he was out in the courtyard with Geralt sat on a barrel and frowning into a book.
“Stretching,” Jaskier replied, sunnier than the weather. “I learned a series of movements to keep the body supple and the mind engaged. It helps me keep up with Geralt.”
The wink he sent Geralt’s way was enough to have him raising the book to hide his blush. While everybody knew what was going on between them, Geralt didn’t like to shamelessly advertise it. He was a private soul by nature.
“Come.” Jaskier beckoned Vesemir. “Let me show you.”
They worked through poses, Jaskier explaining a little about each of them. While they looked simple and easy, Vesemir was surprised to find that they gave the gentlest workout he had ever had. By the end, he was pleasantly tired but not in a way a training fight would have worn him out. It was, for want of a better word, rejuvenating. It had him as close to a smile as he usually got.
Over the course of the week, it went from Jaskier stretching in the courtyard while Geralt read to Jaskier and Vesemir. Until, silently, Eskel joined them one morning, standing next to Vesemir, a little nervous but a smile from Jaskier had him easing into the flow. The next morning, soft lute strums accompanied their exercises as Lambert sat opposite Geralt and his book, playing something gentle. The grateful look Jaskier shot him was enough to get him scowling, even if the music never stopped.
Spring was just around the corner. The witchers were all sat around the cleared dining room table with parchments in front of them, quills in hand. Eskel’s tongue was sticking out the corner of his mouth as he focused on his work.
“Just remember, this means you can keep in touch with each other. Enchanted crows can deliver your letters now.” Jaskier was playing soft music as the others perfected their penmanship. Well, all except Lambert who had taken to doodling, letters getting lost in the pictures. But that was okay, he could always draw his sentiments, the others would understand.
By the time it came to leaving Kaer Morhen, Jaskier was content and happy. He had four witchers who looked so much more self confident in their abilities. Because while he had kept their attention on the arts, it was inevitable that they all bonded. It wasn’t all that unusual to find at least two, if not three of them piling on top of each other with a book, getting lost in adventures they didn’t have to live through. Someone else’s struggles were so much more satisfying when the fear of death and failure didn’t hang above their heads.
Three witchers and a bard stood in the courtyard, horses loaded up as they prepared to leave on their respective paths. Only Vesemir stood in his usual attire and a soft smile creasing his face.
“Safe travels to you all,” he said, meeting the others’ eyes in turn.
“What will you do?” Eskel asked. “You usually accompany us at least some of the way.”
The smile turned into an excited grin and Vesemi gestured vaguely towards the keep. “My path for the year is one that is a tight circle. The library here needs some attention.”
Pride made Jaskier beam. He stepped forward and gave Vesemir a hug. “I expect many a wonderful tale from the library when we’re back next year.”
That sealed it. The next winter, they were all going to return with more stories. Eskel even kept a diary to share with Jaskier in case Geralt was stingy on his details for songs. And, when they all reconvened at the start of the next winter, Vesemir had tomes from the library ready to read stories from while Lambert turned up with his own lute on his back.