Archive of Our Own ^omega

"First snow's coming soon."

Jaskier looked up at the sky. It looked fine to him, but maybe Geralt had some witcher-y way of telling the weather. "And?"

"We're far from Oxenfurt. You should head back before you get stuck."

"I was going to spend the winter with you."

Geralt yanked Roach to a sudden stop. "What?"

"What?" Jaskier blinked innocently up at him.

"I'm going to Kaer Morhen for the winter."

"I know. You never said I couldn't come though, so…"

Geralt pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jaskier. You can't come."

"Well you could have told me that sooner!" Jaskier exclaimed. "Now where will I take shelter from blizzards and frost? I'm going to die now, cold and alone in the middle of nowhere!"

"Figure it out." Geralt started to make Roach walk again, but at a calm trot. Jaskier kept following.

"Why can't I come with you?" the bard asked.

"I didn't tell the others you were coming."

"Well I'm sure they'd forgive the surprise guest when they see how much of a delight I am!"

Geralt wasn't going to win this, and Jaskier could see that realization slowly dawning on him. The witcher rolled his shoulders, heaved a deep sigh, and continued to ride Roach along at a slow enough walk that Jaskier could keep up.

The road to Kaer Morhen wasn't as bad as Jaskier was expecting. It was rocky, but nothing he hadn't already encountered in Skellige. Snow was already covering the highest peaks and roads, but they soon followed a worn path through some woods that kept them mostly sheltered from the cold.

"If you get kicked out, it's not my fault," Geralt muttered as they walked through the woods.

"Oh please, as if anyone could kick a face like mine out into the cold!" Jaskier declared, though his voice died as they left the woods and suddenly came upon a large stone wall that Jaskier had to tilt his head back to see the top of. He marveled at the imposing structure, only to jump in surprise when a loud, creaking groan sounded and the gates parted. An older, grizzled looking witcher stepped out with a nod at Geralt.

"Welcome back, wolf," he said, and then gave Jaskier a brief look over. "Your bard?"

"He insisted on coming," Geralt said with a sigh. "Didn't tell me until it was too late for him to turn back."

The older witcher nodded and turned to lead the way back into the keep. Jaskier beamed, taking this as a sign of acceptance, and hurried to keep pace at his side. "Geralt's talked about you. Vesemir, right?"

Vesemir grunted.

"So that's where he gets it from," Jaskier noted, and huffed. "Honestly, would it kill you witchers to use your words? I mean really. What do witchers have against speaking their mind--"

He was promptly shut up by Geralt nearly tackling him to the ground, a hand clasped over Jaskier's mouth. Vesemir paused to watch the two struggle.

"Jaskier," Geralt hissed as he fully lifted Jaskier off of the ground with one arm around the bard's waist to get him to stop squirming. "For once in your life, shut up."

"Where did you find him?" Vesemir asked.

"He found me in a-- stop licking my hand Jaskier, I'm not letting go-- he found me in a tavern in nowhere, I haven't been able to get rid of him since," Geralt snapped, setting Jaskier down on the ground. "Be good." He released Jaskier and whistled for Roach to follow them as he wiped his hands off on his armor.

"I will have you know I am always good," Jaskier said with an indignant puff to his chest.

"Not many would be so open with their words to a witcher's face unless they were armed or drunk," Vesemir noted with a side glance at Jaskier as they continued walking.

"Yes, well. I have always spoken my mind," Jaskier bragged.

Vesemir gave another grunt. "Clearly."

"Was that a joke?" Jaskier gasped. "I didn't know witchers could make jokes!"

"Wait until you meet Eskel," Geralt grumbled, and looked at Vesemir. "Is he here yet?"

"Of course. Got here a week ago."

"I see. And Lambert?"

"Not yet, but he said he would be coming."

"For how much he hates the place, he always comes back every year."

"You know how he is." Vesemir stopped once they got to the inner courtyard. "Go show your bard to the guest room. You two will have tonight to rest, but in the morning I expect you to be up at dawn for work." He gave a sharp look at Jaskier. "Even you, bard."

"Of course," Jaskier agreed with a nod. "Geralt told me I would be helping repair the walls and polish the swords daily."

Vesemir blinked a couple times at him, then looked at Geralt, who shrugged. The older witcher sighed and shook his head. "None of that. I'll leave the heavy work to my wolves. There's plenty to be done in the greenhouse and cleaning up. You look like you have a touch for that."

"How very observant of you my good sir!" Jaskier chirped with a low bow. "I'm quite skilled in many arts, tidying up and gardening among them. It would be an honor to help you in the upkeep of this noble palace."

Vesemir stared at him for a moment more before a small, amused smile tugged at his lips. "You know, you remind me of a young pup who dreamt of being a knight and becoming a hero."

"Did he?" Jaskier asked, his eyes sparkling.

"No," Geralt interrupted with a growl. "He died in the Trials. Grab your things."

Jaskier was a bit surprised at the harsh tone from Geralt, but grabbed his bags and lute case and followed along while Vesemir took care of Roach.

They headed inside, only for Geralt to suddenly stop and whirl around just in time for a large figure to tackle him. The two tumbled on the ground while Jaskier stepped back. He was just about to call for Vesemir when the scuffle ended with Geralt kneeling on the ground with the other man in a headlock. Geralt had a fierce grin on his face, one Jaskier had rarely seen, while the other man, who Jaskier assumed was Eskel, tried to twist free. A laugh bubbled its way out of the new witcher, and Jaskier froze.

He had a deep, rich laugh, one that Jaskier could feel echo and rumble in his bones-- no, his soul. It felt like a crisp autumn day, cool and refreshing. A good glass of spirits, earthy and smoky, Jaskier briefly had a thought of getting drunk off of it while the two witchers stood and dusted themselves off, and then Eskel turned to look at Jaskier--

His heart stopped.

The other witcher had a deep set of scars on the right side of his face, part of which pulled the corner of his upper lip up in a permanent sneer, the tip of his canine peeking through. His eyes were a glowing amber, though they held a gentleness to them that made Jaskier's knees weak. He had dark hair that fell a bit over his face, ruffled by the small play fight he and Geralt had a moment ago. Jaskier wanted to run his fingers through it, it looked so soft, to comb it back with his fingers and cup that strong jaw in his hands...

Geralt snapped his fingers several times in front of Jaskier's face, startling him out of his daydreams. Jaskier flushed and fidgeted with his lute strap. He cleared his throat and turned back to Eskel with a deep bow.

"Terribly sorry. I ah, wasn't told there would be someone so handsome here," he said. "Jaskier the bard, at your service."

"Eskel." The other witcher rubbed a bit at the scars on his cheek and nervousness seemed to flash across his face briefly, as if Jaskier couldn't be more head over heels in love with this man.

"Jaskier. Your room," Geralt grunted, snapping Jaskier out of his stupor once more. It was then that he realized in his shock, he had dropped his bags, which Geralt now picked up and carried up the stairs.

"I'll talk to you later Eskel," Jaskier said with a wave before taking off to follow after Geralt.

He caught up eventually, having to jog up the stairs a bit to walk beside Geralt. "So, Eskel?"

"What about him?"

"Is…he single?"

"I don't keep up with his romantic life."

"Has he mentioned anyone last you knew?"

"No."

"Does he like guys? I'm not usually one for receiving but honestly I wouldn't mind. He looks like he packs quite the sword--"

Geralt sighed and shoved the door open with a bit more force than might have been necessary. "Jaskier, remember what I told you about witcher senses?"

"Yeah, what about them?"

"He's still down there. He can hear you."

Jaskier gave a small, very manly, squeak and hurried into the room to close the door behind them. "You couldn't have told me that sooner?!"

"Keep your mouth shut on your own."

Jaskier gingerly set his lute down on the floor beside the bed before flopping face first into the soft, plush sheets. A muffled scream came from him a moment later. Geralt gave his shoulder a rough pat.

"Have fun," the witcher said in a flat tone before leaving the room.

Jaskier wondered how long he'd be able to avoid Eskel.

Eskel wasn't sure what he was expecting the bard to ask Geralt about him, but it wasn't that. He thought maybe Jaskier would have asked about the scars, too afraid to ask Eskel himself, which he wouldn't have paid much mind to. Yet instead there was the question of whether he was single, and if he was into guys.

He fled when he heard the door close, feeling out of sorts. How could he be put so off balance by one bard and a couple of questions?

Not knowing what to do, he sought out Vesemir.

"Vesemir," he called out as he approached the wise witcher.

"You met Geralt's bard," Vesemir noted, a sure statement. Eskel didn't bother asking how he knew, he came to accept that Vesemir just knew these things.

However, he deflated at the way Vesemir referred to Jaskier. "Geralt's?"

"Not like that, it seems," Vesemir mused, rubbing his chin. "What's your impression of him?"

"Never met anyone like him," Eskel admitted. He slumped on a low wall to sit. "He stared at me. That's nothing new. But then, I think he…he called me handsome?" He put his face in his hands. "His eyes are so blue, gods. How can someone so beautiful be here, in this place…" He trailed off, and Vesemir sat next to him.

"So? What are you going to do about it, wolf? Are you going to win the bard's favor?"

"I wouldn't know where to start," Eskel admitted.

"He's a bard," Vesemir mused. "A colorful one."

"Very colorful."

"He clearly likes to collect things. Start with a small trinket."

"Like a necklace?"

"No, start with a small trophy from a hunt. You have to show him you can provide for him. But not just a trophy, he's a lover of the finer things in life. Make it something beautiful for him."

Eskel furrowed his brow and thought it over. He perked up as an idea struck him, and he stood and adjusted his armor. "Thanks, Vesemir."

"Good luck on your hunt," Vesemir said with a nod before standing to return to organizing crates.

Eskel ran off to get his crossbow and plenty of bolts, then took to the woods.

Jaskier didn't want to go to dinner to begin with, and Eskel's absence that evening only made it worse.

Vesemir only said that Eskel was taking some down time after catching dinner, enough rabbit meat to fill up him and both of the witchers there, as well as plenty for Eskel.

He was just about finished with his meal and ready to dash back to his room to hide in it for the rest of the night when Vesemir suddenly looked up and behind Jaskier.

"There you are," he said, and Jaskier stiffened. Maybe if he didn't turn around--

"Had to clean up," Eskel said, and sat down in the chair next to Jaskier. Sure enough, he smelled sweet but earthy, like pine and cedar. Jaskier wanted to move closer, to bury his face in his neck and drown in that scent. But then he remembered how he had embarrassed himself earlier, and the tips of his ears burned.

"Jaskier." The bard nearly jumped out of his skin at Eskel calling his name. He forced himself to look at the witcher.

"Yes?" he asked, silently cursing his voice for coming out an octave too high.

"Made this for you," was all Eskel muttered, and he held out a wide strap of leather. The other side had thick white fur, and on each end was three thinner lengths of leather.

"It's...meant to go on your wrist," the witcher mumbled, his free hand rubbing the scars on his face.

"Oh," Jaskier managed to choke out. He could feel the flush on his face creeping down his neck. He hid his smile behind his hand, certain he looked utterly besotted. "Would you put it on me? I'm not dexterous enough to tie a sturdy knot with one hand."

He held his right hand out, and Eskel looked at it for a beat, as if unsure what to do. Finally he blinked and cleared his throat.

"Yeah. D'you want the fur inside or out?" he asked.

"Inside. It looks soft," Jaskier replied, nearly swooning. "What kind of fur is it?"

"Hare. From dinner's catch," Eskel explained as he pulled the band around Jaskier's wrist and gently knotted the ties to keep it snug. The soft fur on the inside was a whisper caress against his skin. "There. Is that too tight?" he asked, and Jaskier shuddered at how low his voice was.

"No, it's perfect," he whispered, his voice coming out more like a wheeze. Seeing Eskel's thick, callused fingers tie the thin straps so gently but snugly against his wrist made his heart skip. He thought he'd faint when those same fingers brushed over the edge of the band, ghosting over Jaskier's skin. His eyes had a soft, distant look. He was so close, Jaskier could lean in and--

"Food's getting cold," Geralt spoke up from across the table, and instantly the two jumped back from each other.

"R-Right," Jaskier said with a cough. He turned back to his meal, keeping his head ducked down. "Thank you for the gift. It's lovely."

"I'm glad you like it," Eskel replied back. There was something off in his voice, but Jaskier didn't want to lift his head to see. If he looked at Eskel again, he'd surely break.

After he finished his food and promptly excused himself, he locked himself in his room to properly admire the band. It was a beautiful cream color, free of any rips or holes. Eskel was clearly skilled at tanning. From what Jaskier knew of the process, it took a long while, and was very delicate work. But Eskel had caught the hare today. Maybe he had some special witcher tactics to speed it up. 

At least it showed he had gotten Eskel's favor. So that was one more witcher that didn't mind the surprise guest. Even if Jaskier made an utter fool of himself in front of him. Or, well, not in front of, but it might as well have been with witcher senses involved.

Later, when he was laying in bed, the bracelet still tied around his wrist, he brushed his fingers over it and snuggled down into the sheets. A smitten smile stayed put on his face.

The next week passed by without much consequence. Jaskier would wake at dawn, go downstairs to join the witchers for breakfast, and then follow Vesemir to help him around the keep while Geralt and Eskel carried out their own orders. He had to admit, it was nice getting to know the older witcher. He was a plethora of knowledge and stories that Jaskier was sure not many that weren’t witchers had heard.

He kept the bracelet on all of the time, only taking it off to bathe. Afterwards he would immediately seek Eskel out so that Eskel could put it back on him.

Once, Eskel and Geralt were getting ready for their turn in the hot springs-- just once, Jaskier wished they wouldn’t give him his privacy and would join him-- and Geralt had offered to put it back on Jaskier’s wrist instead since Eskel’s hands were coated with dirt and grime. Jaskier nearly hissed at his friend and stepped away with the bracelet clutched close to his chest. He insisted on waiting until Eskel’s hands were clean so Eskel could put it on for him.

Then, like a bad omen, disaster struck once Lambert arrived. He shoved the doors open, a gust of cold air blasting in from the wind howling outside.

“Someone cut it close,” Geralt noted while Lambert shook off the snow dusting his hair and armor. “We were betting on finding your body in the spring when the pass opened up.”

“Oh fuck off,” Lambert retorted, plopping down into the seat on Jaskier’s other side. “Not my fault I got hung up on a contract. Village said it’s just some nekkers stealing their livestock.”

“Nekkers don’t take, they kill it right there,” Eskel interrupted.

“That’s what I fuckin’ told them! But no, don’t listen to the professional monster hunter, they clearly know the difference between a nekker and a griffin.”

The other witchers chuckled at that, and even Jaskier nearly choked on his stew from laughing, and he coughed and pounded his fist against his chest a few times.

“Yeah,” Lambert scoffed as he took a bowl and scooped up the last of the stew into it. “So Eskel, who’s this sap you convinced to stay trapped in this pile of rubble all winter with us?”

“What?” Jaskier asked, and he looked at Lambert. “I came with Geralt.”

“No shit, really?” Lambert asked, a frown on his face. He moved closer to Jaskier and took a quick breath in. “Huh. How about that.” He sat back in his seat normally. “You smell more like Eskel from afar.”

Jaskier furrowed his brow, then turned his confused look to Eskel. “Is it because I’ve been sitting next to you?” he asked.

“Maybe,” Eskel said with a shrug.

“Yeah right,” Lambert snorted, only to shout a moment later when Eskel threw a light burst of igni at him over Jaskier’s head.

“Eskel, no signs at the table,” Vesemir chided, as if he was scolding a child for playing with his food.

Eskel grunted in reply and went back to eating, but a mischievous smirk spread across his face. “Fine. I’ll stew on it a bit.”

“Ugh.” Lambert shook his head and shoved a spoonful of stew in his mouth while Geralt and Vesemir had similar reactions. However, Jaskier tried his best to contain his giggles, only to burst out in laughter.

“Oh come on!” Lambert retorted. “It didn’t even flow that well!”

“At least he has a sense of humor,” Jaskier fired back.

Lambert pulled a face and shook his head. “If the pass weren’t already blocked, I’d leave.”

“Blocked?” Jaskier echoed.

Vesemir gave a long sigh. “Geralt, did you really bring him here without telling him there was no leaving until spring?”

“I thought that was just him trying to scare me off!” Jaskier defended, and he whined. “I should have picked up more oils. I don’t have nearly enough to get me through the entire winter.”

“We’ve got oil for you to use,” Vesemir assured him. “It won’t make you smell like a brothel like you do now, but it’ll work.”

Jaskier pouted and went back to eating his soup, though he did so with much less enthusiasm.

“How much do you have left?” Geralt asked.

“Technically enough for a month, but I’ve got some nice oils that I only use for special occasions,” Jaskier explained morosely. “It’s hard to find good vanilla oils, but I suppose this is an emergency.”

“You’ll survive. We’ll head back to Novigrad so you can pick up more in spring,” Geralt assured him with a heavy sigh.

“But an entire season, Geralt!” Jaskier whined.

"Relax, bard. There won't be any special occasions for you to need to worry about smelling nice for," Vesemir waved him off.

"You don't know that," Jaskier defended. "You witchers could use some excitement. Maybe a party!" His eyes sparkled at the thought.

The other witchers looked at him in a mixture of confusion and bewilderment, except for Geralt. Geralt continued to eat, unfazed by the bard's antics.

"No parties," Vesemir said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "There is too much to do."

Jaskier pouted and returned to nibbling through his stew. He went up to his room for the night, not paying much mind to the stares at his back.

The next day, some of the snow from the blizzard had already melted, so Jaskier sat on a chair he pulled outside to watch Lambert and Geralt spar against each other. Vesemir even eventually managed to pull Jaskier over to the training dummies to give him some basic pointers.

Jaskier already knew plenty about sword fighting with a lighter sword, so keeping up with Vesemir's training was easy when he got the hang of it. Of course, even a new witcher could knock him on his back in just a few seconds, but he could most likely best a common bandit in a fight.

The only downside of the training however was that it left him incredibly sweaty and aching. So, while Geralt and Lambert were still training and Vesemir had left to prepare dinner, Jaskier went back to his room to gather a few change of clothes and his bathing supplies. Except he was stopped by a cloth wrapped package right outside of his door. He picked it up and, never being one for patience when it came to gifts, plopped down on the edge of the bed to unwrap it immediately.

He gasped as the sight of two bars or soap, sprinkled with flowers, greeted him along with a sizeable bottle of oil. He immediately tugged the cork out to take a deep breath. Sweetened with vanilla, but there was still the scent of pine and cedarwood.

Jaskier’s eyes shined. Of course, he had other oils and soaps to use still, but wouldn’t it be nice to go to the other witchers flaunting his new gift?

So he used his new soap and oil to wash off the sweat and dust he had from training. He wondered who the package came from, and brightened when he realized it must have been Vesemir. He must have impressed the grizzled witcher today that he got some of the nicer soap and oil stashed away in the keep. So that was two witchers now that had shown their acceptance for his surprise presence, and it had only been a little over a week! He knew he would be appreciated by the witchers, despite the lack of warning.

After drying off as best he could, he pranced down into the dining hall in a new change of clothes and sat down in his usual seat. Eskel sat on his left, and now Lambert sat on his right with the arrival of the youngest witcher. Jaskier turned to Eskel and held the rabbit fur band out expectantly. Eskel smiled, used to this by now, and gently brushed the fur out with the soft inside of his wrist to make sure it was clean and smooth still.

Jaskier heard Lambert cackling behind him, but he didn’t give it much thought. Eskel however gave a sharp glare over Jaskier’s shoulder at Lambert. After a moment he let his gaze drop back down to focus on securely tying the band around Jaskier’s wrist while Lambert only laughed more, and Geralt gave a frustrated sigh.

“Thank you,” Jaskier chirped as he sat back in his seat. He didn’t question what had Lambert snickering, it must have been some kind of inside joke between the witchers.

He was so focused on serving himself and then starting to eat that he almost didn’t notice Eskel scooting his chair just a tiny bit closer.

“You smell nice,” Eskel noted, and Jaskier beamed at him.

“Thank you!” he said, then turned to Vesemir. “And thank you for the soap and oil.”

Vesemir gave him an unamused look. “Bard, if you think I’d lift a finger to help you smell like a brothel, the cold must have gotten to your head.”

“Huh?” Now Jaskier was confused. He turned his gaze to Geralt. “Did you…?”

Geralt shook his head. “You saw me, I was training with Lambert all day.”

Right. So that left out Lambert too. Which only left… Jaskier turned to Eskel, who was silent and now trying to wolf down his food as fast as possible. He paused and swallowed when he felt everyone’s eyes on him.

“I had the stuff laying around, and you said you liked vanilla,” he reasoned. “Not a big deal.”

Jaskier’s heart melted, and he threw his arms around Eskel. “Thank you!” he cooed, then hummed and moved closer to nestle his head on Eskel’s shoulder. “You’re warm.”

“Are you cold?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier nodded and gave a small hum. However, he was forced to let go of his personal furnace when Eskel pulled away to stand up. He pouted up at Eskel, who paused with an unsure look on his face. The scarred witcher quickly leaned in to pat his head a couple times.

“I have spare tunics,” he assured him. “I can get one.”

“Here, I’ll save you the trip,” Lambert suddenly spoke up, and the leather jacket he normally wore was wrapped around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier blinked and slipped his arms through the sleeves. He snuggled down into the jacket with a happy hum.

“Oh, it’s warmer than I thought,” Jaskier noted. “I thought it was just leather.”

“It was, but I added fur on the inside of it myself,” Lambert bragged with a small smirk.

The bard nodded and smiled as he went back to eating. “Clever. It’s cozy.”

Eskel sat back down in his seat, a dark look sent to Lambert over Jaskier’s head. Of course, Jaskier noticed out of the corner of his eye, even if Eskel quickly switched back to a neutral expression when he turned his head. Jaskier shrugged it off and went back to eating, though there was a tension in the air, even as the other witchers started to chat about various stories they had. Eskel was strangely quiet, only occasionally adding commentary.

Jaskier was about to ask him what was wrong, but he stopped at a tapping on his thigh under the table from Lambert. He looked at Lambert, who had a mischievous smile on his face and a glint in his eye. Jaskier knew that glint well enough, and he gave a tap back to agree to play along to whatever the witcher had planned.

Once there was a lull in the conversation, Lambert moved closer and wrapped a strong arm around Jaskier’s shoulders. “Have to admit, my coat looks good on you.”

“Does it? I think it suits you better,” Jaskier mused, tugging a bit at the hem as he looked down at it.

“Well it was made for me. But it’s a pretty sight to have you in it,” Lambert purred with his thumb lightly tracing over Jaskier’s shoulder in circles.

Jaskier heard the chair creak next to him, and he spared a quick glance to see Eskel gripping the arm of the chair hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Was he…? Jaskier looked back at Lambert, who only grinned and squeezed his shoulder. So that was why. Well, Jaskier was plenty versed in this game.

Jaskier grinned and practically preened as he pressed closer to Lambert. “I have to admit, you’ll have a hard time getting it back from me,” he purred. “It’s warm.” He pulled it a bit tighter around himself and took a deep breath, taking in the scent of smoke and sweat. “Smells like you too. I think I’ll be hanging on to this for a while.”

“Good,” Lambert said, and he moved even closer. A light tap against his shoulder. Making sure this was still okay. Jaskier tapped back and moved closer as well.

He was suddenly hauled off of his chair and into Lambert’s lap. He gave a surprised yelp but then laughed and wrapped his arms around Lambert’s shoulders. A splintering noise came from behind him, but he pretended to not hear it.

“Have to admit Eskel, I’m starting to see what you like so much about scent,” Lambert called over to Eskel as he nosed at Jaskier’s throat. “Having such a pretty thing smelling like me isn’t so bad.”

“Do you really have to do this at the table?” Geralt snapped, and Jaskier grinned over at him.

“Jealous?”

“I’m not.” Geralt gave a pointed look over to Eskel, who was trying hard to maintain composure, but even Jaskier could see how close he was to snapping. The arm of the chair he had been gripping earlier had a few prominent cracks running down it, and several splinters sticking out. He now resorted to gripping the much sturdier table while he stabbed the pieces of meat with his fork to eat them.

“Is it so wrong for me to try to keep warm?” Jaskier asked with an innocent batting of his eyelashes at Geralt. Geralt only gave him a flat look, knowing exactly what Jaskier was up to.

“Is it warm enough?” Lambert asked with a small tug on it.

“It is, it’s so warm and soft! And it looks quite sharp as well,” Jaskier said as he smoothed his fingers over the leather. “It’s so big on me. I do love clothes that fit my body, it is a body to show off after all, but there’s something special about wearing someone else’s clothes when they’re too big for me. Maybe I’ll have to steal more of your coats.”

A snap from beside them stopped whatever reply Lambert was going to come up with, and they both looked to see Eskel looking down at his hand, where his fork now laid snapped in half. The table creaked a bit when he let go of it. He tossed the halves of the fork onto his plate and shoved it away before standing up, his chair nearly toppling over in his haste.

“I’m retiring early for the night,” he said, his tone unusually dark. “Good night.”

Jaskier watched him stalk off, a bit worried that he might have taken it too far. But then Lambert burst out in laughter when the distant echo of a door slamming came from deeper in the keep.

“Was that really necessary?” Vesemir sighed, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Of course it was!" Lambert defended. "He needed a little push. He'll be over it in the morning when he sees we weren't serious."

Jaskier nodded and slid off of Lambert's lap to sit back in his own seat to go back to eating, as if nothing happened.

"I knew taking you here was a bad idea," Geralt grumbled.

"You kidding? He's the best thing to happen to this place in years," Lambert retorted. "Shit, this winter might actually be fun."

Fucking Lambert.

Fuck him.

Eskel threw a pillow at the wall with all of his might. It flopped onto the floor. He gritted his teeth, swallowing down the feeling to scream in frustration like a teenager.

Of course Lambert would pounce on the bard the first chance he got, especially after realizing that Eskel was trying to court him. And of course Jaskier would be into Lambert too. The bard clearly had a mischievous streak, he enjoyed fun. He enjoyed witchers that didn't have half their face disfigured.

Eskel sighed as all of the fight left him at once, and he flopped down onto the bed. His eyes fell on the rabbit fur cloak he was making, so close but so far to being finished. To finish it tonight, he'd need to stay up later than normal, but it was his last hope.

Even if Jaskier rejected him, at least the cloak would keep him warm when the temperature dropped even lower and the wind blew harder and the snow piled up. He hoped Jaskier wouldn't hold a deep enough grudge to refuse to use it.

With newfound determination, he set to work.

Right before dawn, Eskel looked at the cloak proudly. The fur on the inside had no sign to where one hide stopped and the next started, it looked as if it was fashioned from one large pelt. The outside was covered in a layer of forktail hide dyed a dark red. The hide was thin enough to still let the cape move freely but heavy enough that a gust of wind would not blow it away, and served a double purpose of making the outside a bit more waterproof.

Eskel had even taken the time to stitch the edges with gold thread. He wasn’t an expert at embroidery by any means, but the stitched swirls and small flowers along the edges stood out against the wine red color. In the center of the back, he had carefully stitched the symbol of the School of the Wolf. A mark to show who he had gotten it from, the protection he was under if he were caught anywhere outside of Kaer Morhen during the winter.

If Eskel had any say, he’d spend every winter with Jaskier, but he knew better than to plan that far ahead.

He laid down on the bed with the cloak, holding it close. It was plush on the inside, perfect for keeping warm. He hoped Jaskier liked it. He would have an hour until he had to be up to get his orders from Vesemir. He would be skipping breakfast, but maybe he could sneak a snack in between duties.

Except, of course, it wasn’t that simple. He hadn’t been sleeping well to begin with in the past week, only sleeping a few hours a night to work on the cloak, and then doing his chores as usual around the keep. Staying awake all night to finish it was the final nail in the coffin, and it felt like he had barely closed his eyes when he suddenly was getting body slammed by Lambert while the younger witcher shouted “Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” far too loudly in Eskel’s ear.

Eskel cursed and sat up, rubbing his eyes with one hand. “Fuck, how late is it?” he grumbled.

“Close to nine. The old man’s pissed, so hurry your ass up and get moving! Be down in the training circle in ten!” Lambert said before he fled from the room. Eskel sighed and hauled himself up, regaining a bit of energy when he looked over the cloak again. It was so beautiful, he might have been tempted to keep it for himself if he wasn’t looking forward to seeing the bright smile on Jaskier’s face so much.

He pulled on his armor as fast as he could and hurried downstairs with the cloak in his arms. He found Vesemir and Lambert sparring while Jaskier sat on a low wall, watching the two with interested eyes.

“Took you long enough!” Lambert teased.

Eskel didn’t bother acknowledging him, he went straight to Jaskier, who beamed at him.

“Good morning,” the bard said, and oh, Eskel simultaneously felt like melting and like taking on an army from that soft voice and blue eyes looking at him so reverently.

“Made you this,” Eskel said when he stood in front of Jaskier. He held out the cloak, and Jaskier gasped. Eskel could hear the way Jaskier’s heartbeat stuttered and raced at the sight, and he internally preened.

“Eskel, I-- I can’t take this,” Jaskier said, though he stood up and gingerly took the cloak in his hands anyways to marvel at it.

“You need to. It’s to keep you warm. The cold gets harsh, and you aren’t a witcher,” Eskel reasoned. It was a bit harder to defend the decoration covering the back of the cloak, when Jaskier turned it over and marveled at it. He traced his fingers over the wolf head embroidered over the back, and quickly brushed away a tear gathering at the corner of his eye.

“Thank you,” he whispered, and looked up at Eskel. “Put it on me?”

“Of course.” Eskel gently took the cloak back to draw it around Jaskier’s shoulders. He didn’t have a fancy brooch to keep it clasped, only a simple pin, but he silently pledged to get Jaskier the best brooch he could find the minute he could go back down the pass.

Jaskier gave a happy hum when it was fastened, and he sat back down to snuggle down into it. He drew the hood over his head and smiled up at Eskel from under it.

“Do you like it?” Eskel asked, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

“It’s gorgeous. Thank you,” Jaskier assured him, drawing the cloak tighter around himself.

“If you’re done flirting, grab a sword,” Vesemir called out to him. Eskel had worried about not being able to do anything, but the way Jaskier smiled at him and looked so happy with the cloak made him feel like he could take on anything. He grabbed a sword and walked into the circle to stand in front of Vesemir. His limbs felt heavy and he felt a crick in his back from how he slept, but he ignored it.

“Eskel and Lambert. Focus on practicing your technique,” Vesemir instructed as he stepped to the outside of the ring. “Stick to the basics, so Jaskier can see how fighting works when it’s not against a training dummy.”

So not only did he get to beat the shit out of Lambert for trying to ruin his attempts at courting Jaskier, he got to show off in front of Jaskier as well. The realization seemed to dawn on Lambert as well as they got into their respective stances across from each other. Lambert gave him a cocky smirk as they circled, and he pounced.

Suddenly the heaviness in his limbs made itself far too apparent, and Eskel just barely managed to parry Lambert’s blow to the side. He tried to trip Lambert, but everything felt dulled, and he was painfully aware of how hungry he was.

The fight was over embarrassingly quickly. Lambert drove an elbow into his back to knock him off balance, and swept his legs out from under him with a strong sweep. He landed on his back on the ground. He kept his eyes closed and took a few slow breaths to regain himself, and oh, that was actually quite comfortable.

He jerked as suddenly he was hauled up by the front of his tunic and he scrambled to his feet. Lambert stood there with a frown on his face while Vesemir scowled and Jaskier hovered behind them, his brow furrowed in worry.

“Eskel, what the hell has gotten into you?” Vesemir asked. “First you sleep through breakfast, now you fall asleep during training?”

“Wasn’t sleeping,” Eskel muttered, rubbing his eye with the back of his wrist. He shook his head to try to wake up more and picked up his sword from the ground with a sharp look at Lambert. “Don’t get cocky just because you won the warm up,” he threatened, though it sounded weak in his own ears.

“Oh shut up, it’s not fun if you’re half dead while fighting,” Lambert snorted.

Jaskier came up to Eskel’s side and rested a hand on his arm. “Are you okay?”

Eskel nodded and gave him a small smile. “Just a bit tired.”

Vesemir glanced down at the back of Jaskier’s cloak and then scowled at Eskel. He really couldn’t hide anything from Vesemir, it seemed. “Jaskier,” he said, and the bard turned to regard him with a mock salute. “Go take Eskel to his room and warm the leftovers from breakfast for him. Make sure he sleeps immediately after eating.”

Jaskier grinned and turned to Eskel. “Well, you heard him. Let’s go,” he said, grabbing the sword from Eskel’s hand to put it away.

“What?” Eskel asked, looking between Jaskier and Vesemir. “But I--”

“I won’t hear any of it,” Vesemir interrupted, raising a hand to stop his protests. “Go rest up. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Eskel deflated and he sighed. “Yes sir,” he muttered, feeling like a scolded child. Jaskier’s thin fingers wrapped so delicately but surely around his wrist, and he let himself be led back inside the main hall. Jaskier glanced back at him with a soft smile.

“Wait here for just a moment,” he said, letting go of him to disappear into the kitchen. Eskel rubbed his wrist where the echo of Jaskier’s touch remained, feeling strangely cold now. He managed a small smile when Jaskier returned with a plate full of roasted meat.

“Up to your room now, before it gets cold,” Jaskier said. “Lead the way.”

Eskel nodded and turned to lead Jaskier up to his room. He stopped when he got to the door, suddenly remembering the state he left his room in. Scraps of fur and hide were all over, along with discarded clothes and sheets of paper scribbled over with different designs he tried to think of to sew on the back.

“Thank you, you can go back down now,” Eskel said, reaching for the plate, but Jaskier held it away from him.

“No, I was told to make sure you ate and then slept immediately, so I won’t be leaving your side until you are fast asleep,” Jaskier insisted with a grin, his eyes sparkling.

Eskel sighed and grabbed the handle. “Okay, but...don’t judge me.”

“Don’t judge you for wha-- oh.” Jaskier got quiet when he saw the state of Eskel’s room, but he didn’t say anything about it as he shuffled in after him with the plate of meat. Eskel slumped on the edge of his bed and took the plate from Jaskier, who then sat down next to him.

“Thank you again for this,” Jaskier said, rubbing the edge of the cloak between his thumb and forefinger. “I feel like I won’t ever make it up to you.”

“Don’t. It’s a gift, there’s nothing to make up for,” Eskel insisted in between bites of food.

Jaskier managed a soft chuckle. “I really did need something to keep warm. I didn’t want to steal coats all winter.”

Eskel’s mood turned sour at the memory of Jaskier wearing Lambert's jacket and fawning over it in his lap.

Jaskier of course noticed this. “Especially not Lambert’s,” he continued and huffed. “Has he washed that jacket since he got it? It certainly didn’t smell like he had.”

Eskel huffed out a small laugh. “If he gets something on it besides sweat, sure.”

"I much prefer this,” Jaskier said, running his hand over the fur on the inside of the cloak. “You must have spent a lot of time on it. It smells like you.”

Shit. He should have washed it. “Sorry, I can clean it if you--”

“I never said it was a bad thing.”

The soft interruption made Eskel stop and, if he hadn’t been fiercely controlling his heartbeat to make sure it didn’t race from how flustered he was, he was sure his face would have been bright red. He cleared his throat, managed to mumble out a small “okay”, and returned to eating his meal with his head ducked.

Jaskier's fingers traced up and down his back, and Eskel couldn't help but relax into it. He shifted to try to lean against Jaskier, only for Jaskier to pull away and stand up.

"Just a moment," Jaskier said when he saw the uncertainty on Eskel's face. He carefully unfastened his cloak and draped it over a chair, then returned to the bed to sit in the middle of it. He propped some pillows up behind him and patted his lap.

"Here," he murmured, and Eskel made quick work of the last pieces of meat to set the plate aside and lay down on the bed, his head pillowed in Jaskier's lap. He draped a heavy arm over Jaskier's legs, finding he slept best when he held onto something. Jaskier didn't seem to mind, if the way his heart raced rabbit-like as he ran his fingers through Eskel's hair was any indication.

"Thank you," Eskel mumbled as Jaskier shifted enough to pull the quilt out from under them both and tuck it around Eskel's body.

"Sleep," Jaskier purred, and with those instructions whispered to him so lovingly Eskel couldn't help but slip into a soft sleep.

They didn’t talk about whatever it was that happened that morning. When Eskel woke, Jaskier had been gone, his cloak taken. When he ran into him again, it was in the dining hall for dinner. They shared a brief glance before Lambert made a comment about how long Eskel slept, and the moment was ruined.

They went back into their own routines, which was really whatever Vesemir told them to do for the day. They didn’t talk much to each other at meals aside from regular friendly chatting that happened to cross over with the conversation with the rest of the witchers. Lambert didn’t try to make any more moves on Jaskier, and for that Eskel was thankful. Jaskier wore the cloak Eskel made for him every day, and occasionally flashed Eskel an appreciative smile when he drew it closer around himself.

Some things still worried Eskel though. He knew Lambert knew better than to try to make any romantic advances on Jaskier, but he still saw the two sharing glances and secret taps back and forth.

A couple of weeks after he had given Jaskier the cloak, he started to approach them at the dining table. He saw them whispering to each other, but they immediately stopped and pulled away once Eskel came into the room.

"Eskel, Geralt was telling me you take care of most of the horses here," Jaskier spoke up when Eskel sat down. "Can you show me them after dinner?"

Eskel perked up at the request. He could do horses. That was an easy enough topic to talk about. "Sure. There's not many, but there are a few."

Jaskier beamed at this, and it made Eskel eat that much faster.

When dinner was done, Eskel nearly dragged Jaskier outside and to the stables in his excitement. He took great pride in how well he took care of the horses over the winter.

He opened the stable and led Jaskier inside. "This is Scorpion," he said, walking up to his black horse first. Scorpion huffed and snuffled at his hands in search of treats, and Eskel laughed.

"Sorry bud. Don't have anything for you this time," he said.

"I do." Jaskier paused and gave a sheepish smile. "I took some sugar cubes from the kitchen just in case." He pulled the small bag of sugar out of his pocket and laughed when Scorpion stretched his neck out to try to get to it.

"I see I've been replaced," Eskel noted with a small laugh. Jaskier took a cube out and held it out to Scorpion, who immediately licked up the treat.

Jaskier's laugh was like music of its own, and Eskel could have melted on the spot.

"No, no, don't be greedy. The rest are for the others," Jaskier reprimanded Scorpion, though he still scratched behind Scorpion's ears and rubbed over his neck.

"Ready to see the others?" Eskel asked, and Jaskier nodded and followed to the next stall.

"This is Vesemir's horse, Drifter," he introduced Jaskier to the strong and sturdy bay. "He's about as stubborn as his rider."

Jaskier held out a cube, though it took Drifter a moment before he hesitantly took the offering. Jaskier gave him a small pat and looked at Eskel for the next introduction.

"I don't know what Lambert calls his horse," Eskel admitted as they moved on. "Sweet girl though."

Sure enough, Lambert's horse immediately came up to greet them when they got close, and Jaskier cooed over her and gave her a sugar cube too.

"Of course that's Roach, you already know her," Eskel said as he gestured to Roach in the next stall. Roach was already stretching her neck out and whickering at Jaskier. Eskel smiled at the sight.

"Yes yes, of course I brought you two," Jaskier assured her gently as he moved closer to her and fed her the two cubes. He slung his arms around Roach's neck and grinned.

"I bet Eskel's taking such good care of you," he said. "Treating you like the queen you are. Isn't that right, girl?"

Eskel laughed and gave Roach a small rub on the head. "I try. Geralt says I don't spoil her enough, so he comes out and takes care of her most days."

"That sounds like him," Jaskier agreed. At the sound of a noise a couple stables down he paused and turned. "Is there another one?"

"Yeah," Eskel said. He led Jaskier a bit further down, where a smaller, but much stockier, pony munched idly on some oats. "Her name is Lily."

"She's so small," Jaskier said, his eyes wide.

"She hauls the heavier carts around," Eskel explained, then stopped and cleared his throat to hold back a smile. "She's…not doing so well, though."

Jaskier tilted his head and stared at curiously, a small frown tugging at his lips. "What's wrong with her?"

"Nothing much. She's just...a little horse," Eskel said with a fake sniff. Jaskier stared at him for a moment before starting to laugh. He coughed a bit and continued to laugh, small snorts coming from him as he gasped for air. He was nearly doubled over by the time he got a hold of himself again.

"She's--!" Jaskier burst out another round of giggles, his grin stretched wide across his face. "She's a little horse!"

Eskel suddenly felt like he didn't need his tunic or coat to stay warm against the bitter cold. Jaskier laughing so hard at such a simple joke could keep him warm for the rest of winter. He was no poet, but he was sure that Jaskier was what was meant when poetry compared a smile to the sun.

"Does she like sugar cubes?" Jaskier asked.

"Of course," Eskel said, but his voice sounded distant to his own ears. Not only did Jaskier laugh at a simple joke, his laughter made Eskel feel like he was floating on air.

"Here, for your horse throat," Jaskier said with a soft giggle as he fed Lily the last sugar cubes. He turned back to Eskel. "We should head back inside, huh?"

Eskel snapped back and blinked a couple times. "Yeah."

The two of them walked back to the main hall, where Lambert and Geralt had already opened a bottle of spirits and passed it back and forth for quick swigs.

"I'm off," Jaskier said with a yawn.

"Good night," Eskel said with a small nod, and sat back down at the table with Geralt and Lambert. He could feel Jaskier's eyes on him when the bard briefly glanced back before heading down the hall.

The three of them stayed up for a while, swapping stories and taking turns drinking out of the bottle of spirits.

When the bottle was empty not much long after, Lambert cleared his throat.

“Well it's been fun, but time to sleep,” he said, standing from the table and stretching. This got him an odd look from Eskel and Geralt, since usually Lambert was the last to insist on going to sleep. He was usually the one that insisted on staying up just a little bit later, to find some way to cause some mischief or fun.

“Being responsible now that your partner in crime isn’t here?” Eskel teased, and Lambert gave him a small shove in return.

“If he’s anyone’s partner, he’s yours,” the younger witcher fired back.

“He’s my bard,” Geralt pointed out with a light frown.

Lambert snickered and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh how could we forget, great White Wolf?”

Geralt growled, which was all the warning Lambert got before Geralt tackled him to the floor of the dining hall. The two tumbled as they wrestled like young boys, and Eskel got a small sense of nostalgia from the sight.

“Alright, alright, break it up you two. You know there’s no fighting at the table,” he reminded them.

“It’s not at the table,” Lambert said from where he was pinned to the floor, an arm twisted behind his back. Geralt nodded in agreement.

Well, he tried. “Can’t fault that logic,” Eskel mused. He drained the last of his mug and then tackled Geralt off of Lambert.

The three of them roughed around a bit, soft laughter bubbling up from them. Sometimes he and Lambert would team up to get the upper hand on Geralt, sometimes he and Geralt would team up on Lambert, sometimes Geralt and Lambert teamed up on him, and sometimes it was a free for all. Finally they all tapped out at almost the same time, thoroughly worn out from the day’s chores and then the wrestling.

Eskel gave a weak chuckle and clapped the two on their shoulders. “Have a good night,” he said, and stood to dust himself off while Lambert and Geralt did the same. He made the trek up to his quarters, but paused just outside of his door. He could hear a soft snoring from inside. He silently opened the door and peeked in to make sure he hadn’t gone to the wrong room without realizing it. It was his room, there was no mistaking that, but in the center of the bed, splayed out, Jaskier snored softly.

Eskel walked into the room and closed the door behind him without a sound, then went about taking off his armor. He would normally climb into bed as he was now, but he was acutely aware of how dirty he was from the hard work and then play fighting. So, to give Jaskier more time to sleep without being disturbed, he gathered up a few things to take down to the hot springs and bathe.

He tried to take his time, not sure if he was hoping that Jaskier would wake up on his own and return to his own room or if he was hoping that Jaskier would still be there, laying on his bed like he belonged there. He does belong there, a voice in the back of his head added, and Eskel waved it away as he scrubbed the dirt off of his skin.

He smiled gently when he crept back into his room silently and saw Jaskier now curled up, his fingers fisted in the sheets. He walked to the side of the bed and ran his fingers up and down Jaskier’s arm.

“Hey, Jaskier,” he called out softly. The sleepy mumble he got in response made his chest tighten, and he sat down on the edge of the bed to give Jaskier a more firm shake. “Hey, wake up.”

“Wha’?” Jaskier blearily opened his eyes and yawned, stretching out for a moment before settling back into the bed. “Eskel?”

“What are you doing in my bed?” Eskel asked, still running his hand up and down Jaskier’s arm to soothe him.

“Lambert’s idea,” was all Jaskier mumbled as his eyes shut again. “Said you’d like it if I--” He cut himself off with a yawn. “--mm, if you came back to your bed smelling like me. I must have fallen asleep.”

“I can see that.” Eskel didn’t bother asking about Lambert’s plan further. He’d settle that with Lambert face to face.

“I’ll go back to my room now,” Jaskier mumbled as he slowly sat up with another yawn.

Eskel grabbed his shoulders and eased him back down onto the bed. “Stay. I’ll sleep on the floor if you’d like your space, but I won’t make you walk all the way back to your room.”

“Okay,” Jaskier replied, all too easily convinced to lay back down and snuggle down into the sheets again when Eskel tugged them over him. “Sleep here with me. I liked sleeping next to you.”

He looked up at Eskel with those blue eyes, so soft, and Eskel could never say no. The witcher lifted up the side of the blanket so he could slip under it and lay down beside Jaskier. Jaskier gave a soft, happy noise and turned so his back was to Eskel before shifting to press back against him. Eskel wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s waist to hold him close, unable to stop the small smile from tugging at his lips.

He nosed at the spot just behind Jaskier’s ear, a low hum escaping him when he picked up the scent of both of them mixed together. He folded his other arm underneath his head and closed his eyes. He had missed this, being able to hold onto someone during the night. Like this, with Jaskier sleeping so peacefully in his arms and their scents mixed together in the bed, he could almost pretend that Jaskier was his lover, or perhaps something more. The bard seemed like a romantic, and witchers weren’t meant to be married but if Jaskier asked, Eskel would say yes without any hesitation.

With that thought swirling around in his mind, Eskel dozed off.

Jaskier woke up to wind howling off of the stone walls of the keep and feeling the warmest he had in months. He yawned and shuffled a bit, humming when he bumped back against a solid body. A heavy arm around his waist tightened, and the witcher behind him nosed at his neck.

“Good morning,” Eskel murmured, and the light ghosting of his breath against his ear made Jaskier shudder.

“Morning,” Jaskier murmured back, covering Eskel’s hand with his own to give it a small squeeze.

Eskel pulled away from Jaskier to sit up and stretch. He blasted a small burst of aard to push the curtains back, revealing the blizzard raging on outside. “Snowing pretty heavy out there.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement and sat up as well to lean against Eskel and drape his arms over his shoulders. “Good thing I have such a warm cloak,” he cooed.

“It might not be enough,” Eskel said. He tried to get up, but Jaskier’s arms tightened around his shoulders and he stayed put. “Jaskier?”

“You’re too comfortable to let go just yet,” Jaskier replied, burying his face in the crook of Eskel’s neck. “Just a few more minutes.”

“Okay.” Eskel wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders to draw him in closer to his side. “But not too long, or breakfast will be cold.”

Jaskier could have died right then and there and he would have passed on with very few regrets. Being held by someone so big and strong, soaking up Eskel’s body heat... He wanted to stay there forever. But unfortunately, a few minutes of silence later, Eskel gently pulled away, and Jaskier reluctantly let him go, albeit with a pitiful whine.

“I know,” Eskel murmured, giving Jaskier a small pat on the head. “Come on, the others are waiting.”

Jaskier got up, but just as he was about to reach the door, he found himself with a coat shoved at him.

“If the cloak isn’t enough,” Eskel clarified, when Jaskier gave him a confused look. The witcher wasn’t meeting Jaskier’s eyes, and if Jaskier didn’t know better he’d say that Eskel looked embarrassed.

He took the coat and slipped it on. It was even bigger on him than Lambert’s was, but it was much warmer and smelled of pine and cedarwood. “Thank you.”

Eskel nodded and gave him one last pat on the head before he was shooed out of the room. Jaskier tugged the coat tighter around himself and hurried to his own room to change into a new outfit and fasten the cloak on.

When he got down to the dining hall, the others were already eating and chatting, including Eskel.

“Good morning sunshine,” Lambert said when he saw Jaskier approach. He gave a low whistle when he noticed the coat under the cloak. “I was thinking you smelled odd.”

“It’s Eskel’s,” Jaskier clarified with a warm smile as he sat down in his seat. “So that I can still work outside.”

“You won’t be working outside,” Vesemir said with a shake of his head. “There’s too much snow.”

“Then what’s the plan for today?”

“The armory needs some organization. I was hoping you could help me with that.”

Jaskier brightened up and nodded. “Of course!”

“Good.” Vesemir turned to the others. “You three, patch up any holes in the halls of the main building.”

The three seemed to sigh in relief that they wouldn’t be condemned to work outside either. They all got to work, the three younger wolves heading off in search of spots around the main building to patch up while Vesemir and Jaskier headed for the armory.

They still had to go outside to get to the armory, but at least they wouldn’t be working outside. The armory itself was still freezing though, and Jaskier could feel his fingers going numb within minutes of handling the cold metal.

“Here,” Vesemir grunted after Jaskier fumbled with a-- thankfully dull-- sword for the fifth time because of his frozen fingers. Jaskier got a pair of gloves tossed at him and he quickly put them on. They were just on the side of too big for him, but that didn’t matter. He could already feel his hands slowly warming up just a bit.

“Thank you,” he said as he got back to work.

“Next time, don’t suffer in silence,” was all Vesemir grunted in reply.

They didn’t get through the entire armory, since there was so much to organize and figure out what was salvageable with some cleaning and repair and what needed to be melted down. Eventually the time came to cook dinner, and Jaskier followed Vesemir back to the main building to help, only to realize he really should have gotten more suitable boots for the winter.

This realization unfortunately didn’t hit him until, in his haste to get inside and out of the biting cold, he slipped on a patch of ice covering the stone walkway. He tried to catch himself, to step off of the ice so he could regain his footing, but it only led him to crash face first into the snow. He struggled a bit in getting up, resulting in getting covered with more snow, and he whined.

“Come on, I can make dinner alone tonight,” Vesemir said as he hauled Jaskier up by his arm. “Go take a soak in the hot springs and get some dry clothes on.”

Jaskier shivered and managed a small nod as he shuffled inside with Vesemir. He hurried up to his room to strip out of his wet clothes, and made the trek downstairs to the springs wrapped up in a fur blanket and carrying a change of clothes.

The bath felt good, but the cool air on his damp skin undid it. He wrapped up in the fur again and made the trek back up to the dining room, where he sat down beside the fire and snuggled down into the fur. He wished he had the cloak and coat Eskel gave him, but they were still hung up by the fire in his own room, drying off. He shivered and pulled the fur tighter around himself.

Suddenly the fire roared higher, making Jaskier nearly jump out of his skin. He turned to see Eskel with his fingers still poised in the sign for Igni. Eskel jerked back a bit when Jaskier’s eyes met his, and moved as if to slink away, but Jaskier was faster.

“Wait.” Eskel stopped in his tracks, and Jaskier shuffled a bit. “The fire won’t stay up for long. It’ll get cold again.”

Jaskier mentally patted himself on the back for coming up with such a clever reason, especially as Eskel sighed and crept into the main hall to sit beside him. Well, that wouldn’t do. With the boldness that Geralt constantly berated him for, Jaskier moved to plop down in Eskel’s lap and wrap the fur blanket around him as well to trap him in the cocoon.

He could feel Eskel stiffen, but after Jaskier snuggled closer and relaxed against him with a content sigh, the witcher wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s waist to keep him close.

“Comfortable?” Eskel murmured, and Jaskier gave a small hum in agreement. How could he not be comfortable, wrapped in warmth and snuggled up against Eskel? He wished he could vocalize this, but he could feel himself dozing off, loose from the warm bath and the heat surrounding him. Eskel’s fingers ran up and down his back, and he nearly melted against the witcher.

At first, he had taken the rumbling he heard as the wind outside. But after several moments of it continuing and not letting up, and even feeling a bit of vibration against his cheek where he was resting his head against Eskel’s chest, he startled awake. Instantly the rumbling stopped and Eskel froze. Jaskier lifted his head to look at him.

“Was that you?” he asked.

Eskel turned his face away and cleared his throat. “Sorry. Wasn’t thinking about it.”

“You can purr?”

Eskel was silent at that, and Jaskier felt his heart melt. “You can purr,” he repeated, his hands coming up to rest on Eskel’s shoulders. “That..that’s the most amazing thing I’ve known.”

The witcher shook his head. “It’s embarrassing. Usually I can control it, but I wasn’t thinking.”

“Don’t,” Jaskier insisted gently. He settled back against him, resting his head just under Eskel’s chin again. “Let me hear it. It’s soothing.”

There was a brief pause of hesitation, where Jaskier wasn’t sure Eskel was going to do it again. He could have pushed Jaskier off and left, leaving the fire to die down naturally instead of keeping it carefully controlled so it wasn’t too hot but didn’t die down either.

However, just as Jaskier was about to apologize and retreat back to his own room, he heard it. A soft rumbling noise, coming from Eskel once again.

“Precious,” he whispered, stroking his fingers up and down Eskel’s chest. The petting seemed to make him purr louder and so Jaskier kept doing it, running his hand over anywhere he could reach without moving. He tried desperately to stay awake, not wanting to miss a moment of Eskel purring and holding on tight to him, but he was so tired.

Just before accepting his fate and snuggling down to fall asleep, he blindly grabbed for Eskel’s hand. He gave his hand a small squeeze and intertwined their fingers, briefly marveling at how much bigger Eskel’s hand was compared to his own, before he fell asleep.

He didn’t get to sleep for long before dinner was finished. He was gently shaken awake with Eskel’s deep voice murmured into his ear that it was time to eat. He reluctantly pulled himself free of his cocoon of warmth to sit at the table, feeling buzzed even though he hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol. He kept stealing glances over at Eskel and couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face every time, before he ducked his head down and tried to focus on eating.

That night, he paced in his room, a delicate silk sash twisted in his hands. What if Eskel didn't like it? It wasn't like it was something he made himself, it was just a scarf he carried around and occasionally tied around his waist for fashion. He wasn't even sure if it smelled like him.

But a bard that didn't try to return what he hoped were romantic approaches was a bard that would die alone. So he fastened his cloak on-- showing off his own fantastic gift while giving Eskel his own-- and marched down to Eskel's room.

However, when he got in front of the door, all of his confidence left him. He looked down at the sash in his hands and frowned. It wasn't useful for a witcher to have such a thing. A witcher doesn't care about fashion, and it wouldn't be able to be used to keep warm as a scarf. It was just a pretty thing to hold onto. It wasn't beautiful and functional like the cloak was.

This was a terrible idea, he thought, and moved to turn and retreat back to his room, but he was stopped in his tracks by the door opening.

"Jaskier?" Eskel stood there, looking at him surprised.

"...Yes?" Jaskier asked, hiding the sash behind his back.

"Why are you lurking outside of my bedroom?"

Right. Witcher hearing. "Um. No reason."

"What's behind your back?"

"Nothing."

A flash of what Jaskier was sure was disappointment flashed across Eskel's face, and he caved. He slowly held out the pale blue strip of silk. "It's-- I was going to give it to you, but it's really a rotten gift so--"

Eskel's hand covered his own, and he gently took hold of the sash to take it and inspect it. "It's beautiful," he murmured, his pupils dilated wide as he ran his fingers over the silk. "Soft."

"It's not good for much except fashion," Jaskier mused with a small frown. "But if you want it…"

"I do." Eskel turned his wide-eyed gaze on Jaskier, and Jaskier smiled gently.

"I'm glad. It's yours then," he said, and hesitated. Well, better to take a risk than die alone…

He leaned up and pressed a light peck on Eskel's scarred cheek. "Thank you," he murmured, his face feeling like it was burning. He only caught a glimpse of the shock on Eskel's face before he turned tail and ran, bolting back to his room. He leaned back against his door to slam it shut, his chest heaving and his heart racing in his chest from more than just the running.

He thought that'd be the end of it, that maybe they wouldn't talk about it ever again if Eskel didn't want to, and Jaskier could go on pretending he wasn't hopelessly in love with the kind witcher. But of course, he forgot that with how kind Eskel was, he wasn't as emotionally guarded as Geralt and didn't avoid talking about feelings like the plague.

So he really shouldn't have been surprised when the knock came at his door a few moments later.

Jaskier held his breath, praying that if he didn't make any noise, Eskel would assume he had gone to sleep already and would leave him alone. However, that clearly wasn't the case as another knock came.

"Jaskier?" Eskel called out softly.

Don't answer, let him think you're asleep, Jaskier's mind screamed. He clasped a hand over his mouth to try to quiet his breathing further.

"Jaskier I know you're in there," Eskel sighed, and Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut as if that would stop him from caving. "I can hear your heartbeat. Can you open the door? To talk?"

Jaskier carefully stepped away so he could open up the door just a crack and peek out. Eskel smiled softly back at him from the crack.

"Hey," Eskel murmured, and Jaskier tightened his grip on the door.

"Sorry. I don't know what came over me," he admitted. "I-- you've been so nice to me, and you're so handsome and genuine, even when I talked about you behind your back--"

"Jaskier," Eskel interrupted softly, and Jaskier's jaw clicked with how hard he shut it.

Eskel chuckled softly at the sound and rubbed over where Jaskier had kissed him. "I'm not used to this," he admitted. "I can't remember the last time someone called me handsome when I wasn't paying them or wearing a mask. It's been much longer since I've been kissed."

Jaskier wanted to say it was their loss, but his heart felt like it was going to burst and his tongue was tied in knots.

"I'm..not sure about the right way to do this, I asked Vesemir and he said a trophy from a hunt works well for courting, but you didn't strike me as someone who likes having a forktail head mounted on your wall. So I made you the cloak."

The cloak. Jaskier glanced back at it, where it still was drying in front of the fire beside Eskel's coat. "It's lovely," was all he could say, and he internally cursed himself.

"Well, that's what it was for. Courting, or something," Eskel explained, rubbing over his scars again. "If you don't want it now that you know--"

"I knew," Jaskier interrupted, opening the door a bit wider to give him a shaky smile.

Eskel froze. "You did?"

"I'm a poet, I know how to see the love in the little things and the big things. And, a gesture like hunting down enough rabbits for a cloak, and assembling it yourself like that…" Jaskier smiled more and shrugged. "It's not something just anyone would do for a bard."

"You don't mind?"

"Well, who would?" Jaskier opened the door wide enough to lean against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest. "I can't think of anyone who would mind having someone so handsome and kind trying to court them with such a thoughtful gift."

Eskel managed a weak smile. "Well, I guess not." He shifted his weight on his feet for a moment before looking at Jaskier. "Would you like to spend the night in my room again?" he asked, then tensed and held his hands up in defense. "Just like last night, nothing more. Unless you want more."

Jaskier smiled and stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. "Well, I can't say no to such a soft bed and wonderful bedpartner." He grabbed Eskel's hands and looked up at him. "Can I get a kiss first?"

Eskel stared down at him with wide eyes, his pupils dilated into round disks again. He gave a small, slow nod, and Jaskier leaned up to press a light kiss to his lips. He tilted his head and brought one hand up to cup the back of Eskel's neck to give him another, and another. A soft sigh escaped him, and he smiled and stroked a thumb over Eskel's cheek.

"Strikingly beautiful," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the spot where Eskel's scar pulled his lip up.

"To bed?" Eskel asked, giving the hand still holding his own a small squeeze.

"Please," Jaskier agreed. He felt he couldn't be happier, but then Eskel scooped him up as if he weighed nothing and he swooned.

“You smell like me,” Eskel murmured with a kiss behind his ear as he carried Jaskier back to his room.

Jaskier smiled and held on tighter. “Good.”