Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At first it was because their relationship just wasn’t like that. Sure, Jaskier’s love for Geralt started in their first year of travelling together, but it took Geralt a little longer to admit he felt the same way.

It’s a whole thing, Jaskier knows from many years experience. The thing is getting Geralt to first acknowledge then, gods forbid, admit his feelings. 

Between Geralt realizing he was in love with Jaskier and actually doing anything about it he was too afraid of losing Jaskier to bring him to meet his family. He was sure that Jaskier would decide to leave (he couldn’t bring himself to think about losing Jaskier any other way) and Geralt just couldn’t deal with his family knowing he’d lost someone. He thought having to deal with heartache alone would make it hurt less. 

Then Jaskier came clean about his heritage. That teensy weensy detail about how he wasn’t actually entirely mortal and it changed everything. Geralt knew that he wouldn’t lose Jaskier to a monster hunt gone wrong, nor to old age or illness. And Jaskier gained his trust that he would stay by Geralt’s side for as long as he’d have him. There was no reason to hold back. Their relationship was a beautiful thing.

But he was still hesitant to introduce Jaskier to the other witchers. They still spent their winters apart. 

Jaskier will admit, it stung a bit. He wasn’t going to push. Geralt clearly wasn’t ready, but he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. They had all the time in the world, so Jaskier could wait. He could understand how daunting it will be to admit that not only is he romantically involved with a man, and had been for years without saying anything, but on top of that his partner wasn’t entirely a man at all. A fae in fact. Witchers don’t have the best relationship with the fae and even though Jaskier is sure Geralt’s family wouldn’t hurt him just because of his nature, he’s okay postponing actually meeting them.

It just means he has to miss his partner during those long, cold winter nights. 

Now it was spring again and Jaskier was on his way to meet Geralt so they could continue their travels together. He had nothing better to think about than whether this was the winter when Geralt finally admitted to his brothers and mentor that there was someone special in his life who would be coming to the keep next winter. 

A piercing cry wrenched him from his thoughts. Jaskier was in the woods. The last town he’d been through said there was a witcher working on a contract today and Jaskier wanted to see if it was his witcher. They weren’t far from where they were supposed to meet. 

Jaskier ran through the trees until he came to the top of a hill. Below him in a clearing he saw a griffin circling a fighter. It wasn’t his witcher, unfortunately, but Jaskier sat on a fallen log to watch the fight.

He soon realized that the fight was going badly for the witcher. The man fought bravely, but too recklessly. He would swipe the flying creature with his sword, but he had to let it in too close to do it. 

Just when he thought it was over and witcher had won, the griffin knocked him flat on his back. It got ready for one final pounce. 

Jaskier started to run.

****

Lambert

Lambert grunted as the griffin’s talons raked through his side. His silver blade pieced the beast and he pushed through the pain to slice through its flank. The creature crashed to the ground and he stumbled back from the impact and fell to his knees. He was exhausted from the fight. It had taken too long and the griffin had gotten in a few lucky shots. Too many close calls.

Pushing himself upwards again, Lambert advanced on the griffin. His sword was still embedded in the body which was lying still on the ground. He approached slowly and carefully pulled out his sword. He hadn’t realized the griffin was still alive and it pushed him away with its wing. Cursing Lambert fell backwards and landed flat. 

How had he not noticed the bastard was still alive? 

Now it was coiling to pounce on him and he only had time to brace himself with the silver blade above him. The griffin’s lunge landed directly on the sword point, but the beast’s weight came down on him, crushing the breath from his body. 

Gasping for breath, Lambert took a moment to make sure the griffin was truly dead before pushing at the carcass. It didn’t budge. He was stuck and he could feel his strength leaking out of him from the gashes on his side. 

He could feel his vision clouding and he knew it was from the crushing weight on his chest and from blood loss. Damn, he couldn’t even check how bad the injuries were with this hulking monster in the way. He needed to drop into meditation before he passed out, but it wasn’t safe here. He was trapped and vulnerable. He’d left all of his potions back at the camp and he was helpless until he healed. 

Fuck, he was too young to be too slow to dodge a dying griffin. 

He breathed as deeply as he could, trying to gain strength to get out from under the griffin when he felt the edges of his consciousness falling away. 

On the edge of his hearing a rhythmic pounding was coming closer.

Footsteps.

Damn. Not fast enough.

Lambert blacked out.

Lambert’s senses slowly came back to him as he drifted into wakefulness. He was warm and comfortable and he became aware of a softly crackling fire. A pleasant smell of herbs wafted over He breathed in a sigh and was confused to feel something tug at his side.

A new sound had Lambert jerking upright. His hand fell on the hilt of his sword so he gripped it and scanned his surroundings. He hissed a breath pain flared up his side and the memories flooded back. A bad hunt after too long without food or rest. A griffin body crushing his own and footsteps running towards him. 

A man was sitting on the other side of a campfire from him. They locked eyes and the man beamed a bright smile at him.

“You’re awake! I hope you’re feeling better. You should be careful with those stitches, although I know you’ll tell me you didn’t need them at all. I was just serving up some rabbit, I’m sure you’re hungry?”

Lambert eyed the man warily. He was dressed in colourful silk and looked like he had a slight figure. His posture was loose and relaxed. Lambert bared his teeth and growled at him anyway. 

“Yes, yes. Very scary. Very threatening, but are you perchance hungry as well? A bit of food always cheers me up. It’s a good rabbit, with salt and seasoning, and you need some meat.”

Oh, that was what he’d been smelling. Lambert’s eyes dropped to the wooden bowl in the man’s hands. The man seemed to take his hesitation as an affirmative and started moving towards him. Lambert tensed and gripped his sword tighter.

“It’s all part of my master plan, of course.” said the man. Lamber narrowed his eyes and the man elaborated. “First I pull you out from under a griffin, next I carefully tend your wounds and lay you out to sleep for hours . I hunt for a lovely plump rabbit, and use my expensive seasonings to disguise the poison I’ve put in. It is the perfect and most effective way of killing an unconscious stranger in the woods!”

The man placed the bowl closer to Lambert without coming too close. He retreated to his side of the fire and smirked. “There is admittedly one rather large flaw, of course. I have to make sure my victim is not a witcher, who would be resistant to most poisons anyway, and especially not a witcher with a bag full of Golden Oriole.” 

He gestured to a spot beside Lambert where his potion bag and a full waterskin were within arms reach. Lambert also noticed two empty bottles: Swallow and White Honey. He didn’t remember taking them, but he must have. He feels sore, yes, but he would be in much worse shape if he’d had to do it without his healing potions. 

Frowning, Lambert unwrapped the bandage around his torso. There were three lines of neat clean stitches and a number of other small cuts. His ribs were also a fading purple colour. 

“Yes, a few bad scratches, I’ve stitched them just to make it heal neatly. It also looked like you may have cracked some ribs. Those should probably be fine to travel on by morning. Witcher healing is a wonderful thing, isn’t it? But it would help if you ate something. Really, I’m surprised you aren’t more hungry.”

Lambert finally reached over to pick up the bowl, but he didn’t start eating yet. He didn’t trust this stranger who seemed far too comfortable with an injured witcher. But the man was also right: there was hardly any risk in eating the food. Plus, he had to admit that he was starving and the meat smelled amazing. There was also bread to go with it. Lambert’s mouth watered but he wasn’t done being cautious. 

“Why are you doing all this? Who are you?”

“My name is Jaskier. I’m a travelling bard. I stumbled across the end of your fight and had to watch to the thrilling conclusion. I was glad you came out on top in the end, in spite of the griffin ending up on top of you. I’m not the sort of man to let a brave witcher be used as a beast’s bier so I decided to lend a hand.”

“And what are you expecting to get in return?”

“Return? Why, the warm fuzzy feeling of helping those in need, and, if I’m lucky, a story to turn into a song.” He smiled.

The man - Jaskier’s - posture was still open and relaxed. He was sprawled on the ground and watching Lambert, but in a polite conversational way. He figured he’d have time to defend himself if needed and started to pick at the food. 

“Should I use the griffin story, or do you have another in mind? Don’t worry, I’ll spin it as a tale of heroism and daring-do. What’s your name, by the way, or moniker? Something romantic to address you?”

Lambert looked up from his near-empty bowl of food. “Fuck off.”

Jaskier laughed. “Now, even though I think it is an abysmal attitude, I’m sure some villagers you’ve met in your travels have the regrettable habit of calling you that, but it won’t do in a song! Something like the White Wolf?”

Ugh, Geralt’s stupid nickname. They had been giving him shit for that one for years. It was better than Butcher though. 

“Shut up.” He’d finished the bowl by now and lay back down to think. 

Lambert didn’t like this man. He didn’t like that he’d seen him in a vulnerable situation. He shuddered at the thought that this frivolous little man may feel entitled to a debt for his help. This alleged bard seemed like the type of man who would gossip about Lambert’s failure all over the continent. He should leave immediately.

On the other hand, he was still injured and it was a long walk back to the village where he’d gotten the contract from. The idiot chattering at him didn’t seem like a threat, and he had been very helpful with no demands for any return.

Lambert decided to meditate for just a few more hours. The bard was humming softly to himself on the other side of the fire. He’d hear if the fool caused any problems. He reached beside himself to keep a hand on his sword. Just in case. 

The next morning Lambert awoke fresh and rested. He was annoyed to see that his companion from the night before was still around, but when the man gave him bread with jam on it for breakfast he couldn't complain. 

He was also shocked to find the griffin’s severed head and its valuable feathers neatly tied in a pile. His silver sword was wiped but not cleaned beside it. 

He listened to Jaskier chattering. Apparently the man had enough sense to know Lambert would be upset if he handled the sword, but also didn’t want to leave it completely neglected. It was a relief, Lambert realized, to have the trophy taken care of. One less thing to do that morning with his aching body. The feathers were a nice touch too. He’d be able to sell them and get a bit of extra coin.

Lambert cleaned the sword and listened to Jaskier’s constant stream of information. Something wasn’t making sense. Normal men didn’t roll griffins off withers. They didn’t know the names and uses of witcher potions or which part of the monsters were valuable. 

He interrupted the man’s observations of the weather (it was a pleasant day, it would make travelling easier) and asked. “How do you know so much about witchers? It isn’t exactly common knowledge.” He hoped a blunt question would give him a blunt answer.

“Oh, well I wouldn't call myself a common man! When you’ve travelled far and wide across the continent like I have you pick things up here and there. I’ve also studied at Oxenfurt where I learned a great deal of things.”

Lambert scowled. That wasn’t an answer. Although he’d been given no reason to feel threatened, this man and his knowledge felt dangerous. He couldn’t justify doing any harm to him after all the help he’d given. It would be best to leave and make sure he wasn’t followed. 

He began to gather his things. “Which direction are you going, bard ?” 

Jaskier also started to pack up camp. “I must get to Murivel, I have a most urgent appointment and I fear I am already late. Would you like to accompany me so I know you’re alright?”

“No. The contract is in Piana. Need to get there before the head goes bad.”

“Of course. Normally I’d offer to go with you, to make sure you get there safely, but I’m afraid someone is waiting for me.”

To make sure Lambert gets there safely? A bard with little more than a musical instrument case and a bag to his name, probably not even armed, thinks he can keep a witcher safe? Maybe this man was just a fool after all. Or had an inflated sense of self importance. 

Lambert turned to go. A voice trailed after him. “Farewell and stay safe on the path!” He grit his teeth. All he wanted to do was turn in the contract and get away from this cheerful idiot. He didn’t look back. 

****

Geralt

Geralt was pacing by the eastern gate of Murivel. He was supposed to meet up with Jaskier yesterday and the bard hadn’t arrived. There were many reasons why he might be late, and not all of them were bad ones, but of course the bad ones were all he could think about. A few years ago and something like this would have Geralt frantic, but now that he knew his partner was a little more than mortal he knew there was no reason for it. He just didn’t know how long to wait before going to look for the bard. He’d never been late before.

Luckily he didn’t have to decide. The familiar sounds of Jaskier’s lute came rolling down the hill before midday. He started towards the sound so he could meet his lover all the sooner. He saw Jaskier first but was rewarded for his efforts by a joyful cry of “Geralt!” and his lover running to greet him.

Since there was no one in sight Geralt indulged Jaskier in a long embrace. When they finally parted he asked, “What took you so long?”

“Oh, I ran into one of your brothers! Lambert I think, although he didn’t actually say. He’s in Piana and might stay for a bit because a griffin took a swipe at him, if you wanted to go see him? Catch up and all that? You could probably catch him if you left soon.”

“Hmmm” hummed Geralt, and then he kissed the top of Jaskier’s head before steering him towards the village. “I just saw him a few weeks ago. I haven’t seen you in months.”

That brought a bright smile to Jaskier’s face and he started to recount the story of how he came to meet Lambert. It sounded like his brother gave a great first impression, snapping and snarling at the hand feeding him. 

Geralt knew he could have avoided that if he’d only told Lambert about Jaskier beforehand. He’d had every opportunity over the winter, but for some reason he could never find the words. 

Next time. Next time he saw them he would tell his family. He’d also make sure to scold Lambert for almost dying to a griffin. One griffin! Clearly Vesemir let them slack off too much over the winter.

Chapter Text

Jaskier

It was autumn again and Jaskier had said his tearful goodbye to Geralt a few days ago. He was making his way back down the Buina to find a warmer place for the winter. He still hadn’t gotten an invitation to stay at Kaer Mohren with Geralt, but he suspected this would be the last winter spent apart. His witcher was showing signs that he was ready to talk to his family. Jaskier hoped he would, not for selfish reasons, but because he knew Geralt would be happier once it was off his mind. Jaskier preferred when Geralt was happy and relaxed. He so rarely got to be. 

Jaskier was planning on staying the night at an inn and he had promised to play in the common room that evening. He decided to advertise his performance by busking in the town square. He was playing a delightful improvisation game where he made up little songs about people as they passed through. 

He’d spent a pleasant half-hour teasing courting couples and crooning to elderly ladies when he saw an entirely different figure passing through the market stalls. A tall, strong man with two swords at his back was bartering with a vendor about animal feed. Jaskier grinned and made his way over.

“A song for you too, sir?” he asked, lounging on the stall. 

The witcher turned and revealed a pleasant, if scarred face. Jaskier admired it for a moment then trailed his eyes down in an obviously appraising way. He wasn’t surprised to see the wolf medallion. It must be Eskel then. 

It was the farmer who answered, “Aye, may as well play Toss a Coin , bard. This fellow needs it if he wants as much grain as he’s bargaining for.”

Jaskier gasped. “My dear sir, that isn’t the point of the game at all. Besides,” here he winked at the witcher. “I have a much better song in mind.”

Geralt had said Eskel had a sense of humour and a reputation of being very kind and soft-hearted. Geralt would also skin him alive if he heard the song he was about to do, but Geralt wasn’t here and would never find out. Probably. 

He launched into a bawdy song he liked to call The Witcher’s Sword is Long. It was one he made up to tease Geralt, and it was clear the sword in the song was not one of the metal ones the witcher carried. He was constantly threatened with terrible deaths if he ever performed it, but it wasn’t like anyone would realize it was about Geralt if the man wasn’t even here!

A witcher’s sword is long.

He uses it til dawn.

A thrust, a parry, a stab, a jab!

And the witcher’s come and gone!

A witcher’s sword is skilled!

How many beasts it’s killed!

A swipe, a slash, a stroke, a poke!

And now the contract’s filled.

The witcher’s sword is sweet,

When he stores it in his sheath.

A rise, a fall, at night a fight

A monster in the sheets!

The audience he’d gathered was delighted with it and afterwards he passed his cap around to collect some generous tips. He announced where he would be playing that night and was pleased to hear a few villagers promise to come.

Tipping the coins out of his purse, he turned to offer them to the brown-haired witcher. The man raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “What’s this for?” he asked, “Trying to see how long my sword really is?”

Jaskier burst out in a bright laugh. “No need for that, good sir. I’m not working right now, just drumming up business for later. These are for you! You provided the service of inspiring a delightful song, and now I’m filling my side of the contract.”

The witcher shook his head but smiled. “I won’t be taking your hard earned coin.”

“Then let me use it to buy your lunch. It must be past midday by now. Come we can find some hot soup and mulled wine and you can tell me a tale from your travels this year that I can work into a song. My name is Jaskier and I am a famous bard.”

“Eskel.” said Eskel, and Jaskier was thrilled he had been right. “And if you insist, I won’t refuse.”

****

Eskel 

Eskel listened to the bard talk with amused interest. It wasn’t everyday that he encountered a human who was so friendly towards witchers, especially one that wasn’t desperate to get him to do a job. He was feeling surprisingly comfortable now that he had a full belly and a drink in his hand. There was something about the bard’s scent that seemed almost familiar and it put him at ease. He couldn’t quite figure out what it was. 

Jaskier asked questions about his contracts and exploits. It was clear he was interested in a good story, and Eskel was enjoying telling them. 

Too soon his food and drink were done, and Eskel knew he needed to say goodbye to his new companion. To his surprise, the bard wasn’t eager to let him go.

“What do you mean you have to go? It is still very early, and I still have so many questions about your adventures with the sirens. That will make for such a romantic ballad.”

“If you say so.”

“I know so! Just you wait! When you come down from Kaer Morhen in the springtime you’ll hear your praises sung from every tavern you pass through.”

Eskel sat forward and frowned. “When I come down from Kaer Morhen? Why do you think I’d be going there?”

Jaskier cocked his head with a confused look. “Aren’t you? I thought that’s where you were headed?”

“No, Kaer Morhen was destroyed decades ago in the siege. No one goes there now.” That’s the story the school of the wolf school had carefully spread. They didn’t have a stronghold anymore and the last thing they needed was another purge. The knowledge that the last of the witchers still spent their winter season up in the mountains was a closely guarded secret. 

“Oh, of course! That’s what I get for learning about witchers from the old stories.” He gave an awkward laugh. “So out of date. You must catch me up so I don’t make another silly mistake like that again.”

“Unfortunately I have to finish buying provisions for the winter and then head out of town to find a camp for the night.”

“Head out of town ? Whatever for? There are perfectly good places to stay here, and you won’t get far enough away before nightfall that you wouldn’t be able to make up the distance by being well rested tomorrow morning.”

“I’m trying to save on coin.” he said a little ruefully. “I’ve had a lean year and there are still many things I need to get before winter.”

Jaskier nodded then bit his lip, looking thoughtful. “Hmm. I understand, I really do. But perhaps I can tempt you anyway? I’m staying in the Black Goat inn tonight and I’d be happy to share a room if it meant getting to hear more from you. You’d have all afternoon to bargain for provisions and you wouldn’t have to rush into a bad deal. I’ll even treat you to dinner to sweeten my proposal.” 

He was looking up at Eskel with big blue eyes and a shy smile. Eskel was shocked at what he was proposing. “An offer like that, bard, will make me think you really are trying to see how long my sword is.”

Jaskier smirked and leaned forwards. “I’ll admit, dear witcher, in my younger days I would have been curious.” he winked and Eskel could feel himself starting to blush. “But my heart belongs to another, and to another I’ll be true.”

While his companion was talking one of his hands began to fiddle with a chain around his neck. For a second Eskel got a look at a ring before it vanished back behind the collar of his shirt. “Romantic.”

“I’m a bard. I live on romance.”

“Oh? And what would your beloved think if he knew you’re inviting another man into your bed?”

Jaskier waved a hand dismissively. “Oh that he’d understand.”

“Even after singing about that man’s skilled sword in the market.”

“Ah, no he’d be livid about that one actually.” Jaskier smiled and looked in the distance, clearly thinking of someone else. 

Eskel snorted but stood up from the table. “I must be going. Thank you for the food. It has been a pleasure talking to you.” And that was true. Eskel can’t remember having such a lovely conversation with someone other than his brothers in a very long time.

“Farewell my dear witcher! Take care of yourself on the path!” To Eskel’s surprise the bard jumped up and gave him a quick hug. Eskel patted him once on the back and then stepped quickly away. He waved a farewell before disappearing back in the crowd. 

Without thinking he started to hum the song the bard had sung for him.

****

Geralt 

Geralt shouldered his way into the keep with an arm full of firewood. He bent to stack it beside the fireplace in the kitchen. Lambert was slicing vegetables and Eskel kneading bread. 

Eskel was humming slightly as he worked. The tune was familiar, but for a moment Geralt couldn’t place it. Suddenly the words popped into his mind. He slammed the last log on the pile and turned to face his brother.

“What the fuck are you singing?”

Eskel paused with his hands in the dough. He raised an eyebrow at his brother then continued his motions, chuckling.

“It’s a funny story. I was passing through Rakverelin and a bard was serenading people in the market. He caught sight of me and sang a tune about my, ugh, ‘sword.’ He got a large crowd and a pile of tips, so he offered to buy me lunch.”

“About your sword.” Geralt knew exactly what the song was about. He was going to kill Jaskier. He’d promised he’d never sing that one, not in public at least. 

“Yeah, honestly, I thought the man was trying to hit on me. He even asked if I wanted to share a room with him. I’ve never met a human to be that bold around a witcher.”

Fucking Jaskier. Of course he did. Geralt just grunted and turned to go. He needed to scream into a pillow or something. Jaskier was going to be the death of him if he started singing that song .

Lambert spoke up before he could. “I met a bard too this summer. He was very pushy. I didn’t like him, something seemed off. He knew too much about my potions.”

Geralt froze in the doorway and turned back to listen to the conversation.

“I wonder if it was the same one. There can’t be too many bards travelling around who care about witchers. I think he introduced himself as Jasper.” mused Eskel.

Lambert nodded. “That does sound familiar. What sort of information was he asking for? Do you think he’s dangerous?”

Eskel looked up at him. “Now that you mention it, he knew I was headed up here. But mostly he just asked for stories, hunts I’ve been on.”

“Geralt, you travelled with a bard years ago, is that sort of behaviour normal?”

This was his opening. He knew he should have told his brothers about Jaskier long ago, and this was his opportunity to finally get this secret off his chest. 

“That’s- No, that’s-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “Jaskier. My bard. We still travel together.”

“Jaskier! That’s the name!” exclaimed Lambert

“You’re still travelling together? How long has that been? That must have been twenty years ago! He can’t be the same, the one I met couldn't have been older than thirty.” said Eskel.

Lambert jumped in before Geralt could think of answering. “You’re right. Maybe a son? Bards are known for spreading their seed in other people’s gardens.”

“No.” said Geralt quietly. “It’s the same Jaskier. He told me about the griffin. And really Lambert? One griffin?”

“You know about that!” shrieked Lambert. 

Geralt shrugged and turned to Eskel. “It’s been about twenty three years? Twenty four?”

“How come we’re only hearing about him now.”

Geralt bit his lip and looked away. “At first I didn’t think it mattered. Then I didn’t know what to say.”

Eskel rolled his eyes and finished putting his dough away to rise. He turned back to Geralt with a thoughtful look in his eye. Lambert was still grumbling about the griffin.

“So you think it matters now.” It was a statement not a question. 

“Yes.” said Geralt. “He means a lot to me.”

Eskel laughed and sat at the table beside Lambert. “You’re an idiot, Geralt. Go get us some drinks and tell us all about your bard and why you haven’t brought him to meet us before now.”

Geralt smiled and went to the wine cellar. This was the last winter he would have to spend without Jaskier. It was finally time for him to meet his family properly.

Chapter Text

Jaskier

Jaskier was buzzing with excitement and, admittedly, a little bit of nerves. It was his first time spending the winter with Geralt and his family. He’d already met two of them and hopefully made a good impression. 

Geralt had insisted that they arrive at the keep early, before the weather could turn bad. Jaskier wasn’t sure why they needed to. Geralt knew Jaskier wasn’t delicate, but sometimes it felt like the man’s protective streak swayed his logic. 

They passed through the old wooden doorway and were greeted by a tall man with grey hair. He also had what Jakier thought was a very fetching mustache and he briefly pictured Geralt with one.

“Welcome Geralt. I’m glad to see you’ve returned safe and well. And you brought your companion after all these long years.”

“It is good to be back, Vesemir. This of course is Jaskier.”

Jaskier stepped forward and bowed with a flourish. “Thank you so much for allowing me to stay in your home. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Hmm yes. Let’s hope so.”

Jaskier’s nerves ramped up as Vesemir turned on his heel and walked away. The older witcher called over his shoulder “Come! Your food is getting cold.”

Jaskier shot a concerned look at Geralt, who only quirked an eyebrow at him. Jaskier huffed and followed Vesemir. Why did witchers have to be so prickly! 

****

Vesemir

Vesemir was expecting another member of his family to arrive at the keep today. Last night he could see a campfire across the valley on the opposite ridge. There was a campsite there that all the witchers used on their way to the old ruins. The last leg of the path to the keep took a full day to cross with no places to rest, so no matter what time of day someone arrived at the site they would rest and continue the next day. 

He’d asked Geralt to go and hunt something so whoever would be joining them could have a hearty meal waiting for them. It also gave him the opportunity to talk to the fae one-on-one.

The faerie bard had been polite, if a bit nervous, around him so far. Vesemir had watched him and Geralt closely since they arrived. Geralt seemed happier to have the man around, and after years they should be able to trust him. But a witcher didn’t make it to old age by being trusting, especially by trusting the fae. They were a patient race that could afford to bide their time before a strike. Twenty five years of deceit was nothing to them if they had sufficient motivation. 

Vesemir entered the library, knowing that’s where he would find Jaskier. The man looked up from the book he’d been examining. He smiled and wished Vesemir a good morning. He was sitting on the sill of one of the large windows. 

The witcher returned his greeting and moved to stand by the adjacent wall. It was designed to look casual, but it was a strategic position. Jaskier wouldn’t be able to get past him into the keep, not if Vesemir wanted to stop him. 

“Geralt said someone was on their way. You must be looking forward to seeing them. Do you know who it could be?”

“If that’s your way of asking if you’ll have to face Lambert yet, I won’t know until they get here.”

The bard looked confused. “Face Lambert?”

“He’s not grateful he was tricked into accepting help from a faerie.”

“Tricked!”

“That’s how he sees it. Your kind has a reputation.”

“Well, why shouldn’t I trick him? Witchers, as everyone knows, are emotionless beasts who only care about squeezing villagers for coin and stealing children. No better than the monsters they kill. Or maybe-” Jaskier tipped his head and gave a sharp smile, “- there’s a little more to you than your reputation ?”

Jaskier waited for a response and Vesemir nodded his head in acknowledgement. The faerie leaned back and when he continued there was a playful note in his voice again. “Lambert doesn’t have anything to worry about though. He played by all the rules. Didn’t give me his name or utter a single word of thanks. If I could even work that kind of magic I wouldn’t have gotten far with him.”

“Good to know his lack of manners is good for something.” said Vesemir drily. Jaskier snorted. “What kind of magic can you work then?”

“I’m a changeling. I have an exceptionally strong glamour, one not even your medallions can sense once it is in place. I have longevity and fast healing, but not immortality nor an aversion to iron. I can also work some persuasion, but I try not to use it unless I need to. 

Vesemir nodded again, impressed. That was an open and clear explanation, and it was consistent with what he knew from his own experiences with changelings and the fae. 

“You’re worried about me.”

Vesemir raised an eyebrow. 

“You’re worried I’m going to hurt Geralt, hurt the rest of your family. You don’t trust me because I’m different from you, not even human.”

“Yes.” 

“But you let me come anyway.”

“Geralt trusts you.”

Jaskier smiled softly. “That trust was earned after years of knowing each other. So I understand that I haven’t earned yours yet. I just hope you’ll give me a chance to show you I mean no harm to you or your family of witchers.” He bit his lip that moved to sit up straight and looked Vesemir in the eye. “I love him, you know. I love him in more ways that I could possibly say, possibly sing about. Even before he loved me back. I wanted to see him happy and surrounded by love. He loves all of you, so hurting you, or even standing by to see you hurt, I couldn’t bear it because of what it would do to him. 

“I can’t say what the future will bring. No one can promise forever, but I can promise that nothing, no fight or angry word, no heartbreak or betrayal, could ever make me stop loving him, make me want to see him hurt. There is nothing on this earth that would make me betray his trust or his secrets. I’m happy to spend the rest of my life earning your trust if it means I get to spend it with him.”

Vesemir looked at him. The faerie was sincere. It eased something in the old witcher’s chest. “That would make a pretty ballad, bard.”

“Hmmm I think you’re right.” He grinned cheekily, “On the subject, Geralt told me you once faced a chimera! You must tell me that story.”

“I will, later. At the moment there’s cabbage to boil. Come, I’m putting you to work in the kitchen.” Vesemir turned and walked out of the room. Behind him Jaskier laughed but followed.

Vesemir decided that Geralt had made a good choice of companion.

****

Geralt

It’s been a month since Geralt and Jaskier had arrived at Kaer Mohren. Geralt was relieved that Jaskier and the other witchers were getting along so well. 

Jaskier and Vesemir had some kind of understanding, and Geralt could see there was respect on both sides. Geralt had been worried about the two of them meeting, but he knew Jaskier had a talent for charming even the most guarded of people. And yes, he included himself in that.

It had taken a while for Lambert to warm to Jaskier. Geralt understood that it was wounded pride on his grumpy brother’s part. Unfortunately for him, the way Jaskier finally won him over was by offering to exchange embarrassing stories about Geralt. He’d learned to dread whenever he saw them with their heads together giggling. Once Lambert decided Jaskier was a friend, it hadn’t taken him long to discover they had complimentary mischievous streaks and now they planned pranks together. They claimed it was to prevent the keep’s inhabitants from getting bored.

Jaskier and Eskel got along immediately. Geralt wasn’t surprised. He’d always known the two of them would be good friends. They had much in common and it warmed his heart when he saw the two of them talking about their shared interests. 

And every night he could slide in bed beside his partner and hold him. On the path he never felt as secure as he did in this broken old castle. He could relax and unwind in ways he denied himself the rest of the year. He’d never realized how wonderful it felt to share that openness with Jaskier. 

At the moment the five of them were relaxing in the great hall after dinner. They tried to only light one fire to ration the firewood, and it was nice to spend time in each other’s company.

Eskel and Lambert were playing cards and talking quietly together. Vesemir was reading, but it looked like he was close to dozing off. Geralt was mending one of his shirts and listening to Jaskier idly strumming his lute. His partner was composing a song about one of Vesemir’s adventures and Geralt could already tell it would be popular. 

Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath in. He wanted to savour this feeling. He wanted to be able to look back to this night when the path got hard again, when people were cruel and when fate threw more pain his way. But for now, he was happier than he’d ever been. Geralt caught Jaskier’s smiling eyes and his heart thumped like he was falling in love all over again. He was glad that he’d finally brought the two halves of his life together. He couldn’t remember why it took him so long to bring Jaskier here.

As if reading his thoughts, Lambert decided to break his contented reflections with a shouted request. “Bard! Play the song you sang to Eskel the first time you met!”

Geralt glowered at him then turned to Jaskier. “And while you’re taking requests, why don’t you play the one about the first time you met Lambert.”

“Now hold on!”

The peaceful moment may have been lost, but Geralt’s heart was still full of happiness.