Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jaskier was looking for somewhere to make camp when he heard the rustling coming from just beyond the line of trees. He stilled, training his ears to the source of the sound. The rustling came again, this time followed by the snort of a horse. Jaskier didn’t relax, while a horse was a better outcome than a wolf or warg, a horse meant that there was at least one person somewhere close. The bard wanted to move along and hopefully get far enough away that he would go unnoticed when the owner of the horse returned.
He hesitated, there was a feeling in his gut that was pulling him to investigate. Spending so many years trailing after a Witcher had taught him that instincts are usually to be trusted. He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a small sigh, before pulling his dagger out. The small blade had seen a lot more action in the past year or so than it had previously. He mentally cursed himself as he moved through the bushes, bracing himself for any number of things.

His eyes widened when he broke into the small clearing.
Before him was the horse he had heard, but it wasn’t just any horse. He dropped his arm, letting his guard down a little as he approached the familiar chestnut mare.
“Roach?” Apprehension laced his voice, there were plenty of chestnut horses out there. The horse huffed in response, bowing her head a few times as she regarded Jaskier. The bard replaced the dagger in his belt, crossing the rest of the distance and rubbing his hand over her nose.
“I’ve missed you too, girl.” He admitted softly as she nosed at his doublet. He let out a soft chuckle before reaching into the inner pocket to pull out a slice of dried apple.
Even though it had been years since he had last travelled with the mare and her rider Jaskier had never broken the habit of keeping treats in his pockets; every horse deserved the occasional treat after all.
He gave her another affectionate scratch on the nose before surveying the clearing again. His features pulled into a frown as he did so. Roach was still saddled and had mostly full packs; yet the grass around the tree she was tethered to had been nibbled down to the dirt. There was no sign of a camp being made, and yet all the signs pointed to the mare having been here for a few days at the very least. He tried to spot any sign of the Witcher other than Roach and came up with nothing.
Jaskier let out a sigh, before setting down his own pack and removing Geralt’s from Roach’s back. The mare gave the bard an affectionate bump with her nose as he did so and was visibly grateful for the drink he gave her from his water skin. It wasn’t ideal hydrating her from his cupped hands, but Jaskier didn’t want to move Roach in case the Witcher came back. He dug the oats out of her packs and set them out for the mare before sitting with his back against a nearby tree.
Jaskier knew that it would be best to just move along and put distance between himself and the Witcher.
‘A blessing’ Geralt had said last time they had seen each other and Jaskier wasn’t keen to cross paths again, but something didn’t feel right. The Witcher cared more for his horse than he did for himself, so why had she been left tied up for so long without being tended to?
Jaskier shook his head to dispel the thoughts before leaning it back against the trunk. Geralt was likely just on a hunt that had taken him longer than expected, maybe a griffin he had been forced to chase from the territory or something similar. He would surely be back soon, and then Jaskier would scold him for not taking better care of Roach and be on his way.
“I’m sure he’ll be back before nightfall.” He said aloud, not sure whether he was talking to himself or Roach.

The hours passed and Jaskier could see the sun beginning to sink below the canopies of the trees.

He eventually set his lute aside. “I guess I’d better make camp.” He announced, standing up and brushing himself down.

“When Geralt comes back, he’ll just have to deal with me for the night.” He said with a small huff as he laid out his bedroll. Though he wasn’t so sure of himself.
As he got a fire lit Jaskier found himself reacting to every sound that came from the woods, turning around to expect to see Geralt come walking out, covered in the horrific monster guts and blood and whatever else he gets covered in on his hunts. Jaskier sat on his bedroll, stoking the fire as the sun continued to set and make way for the stars that were now scattered across the sky. When they had travelled together, Jaskier often worried when Geralt wasn’t back within Jaskier expected time scale, but now he didn’t have any information, not how long Geralt had been gone, or even what he was fighting. Roach had been left for quite some time, which wasn’t a thing that Geralt had ever done before.
Jaskier let the fire die down, then said a quiet goodnight to Roach before laying down. Despite all his intentions of sleeping he found himself tracing the different constellations in an attempt to contain his racing mind.

He must have drifted off at some point, because he awoke to Roach huffing his hair and the sun just beginning to peek through the trees. He sat up, rubbing at his eyes and scanned the camp. It was completely unchanged, so Geralt clearly hadn’t returned while Jaskier was asleep.
He ate a meagre breakfast of bread and jerky before making up his mind.
He pulled his boots on and gave Roach a scratch on the nose.
“I’ll go and find him girl,” He gave her a small smile, “I’ve never been good at staying out of danger.” He fished out another piece of apple from his pocket.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon. I promise.” He reassured her but was reassuring himself just as much.
He left most of his belongings with Roach, just taking his lute, and the daggers he kept on his belt and in his boot. He definitely wasn’t as good at tracking as Geralt, but having spent so many years at his side had taught him a few things, not to mention just a few minutes into his search the smell of decay was evident in the wind.
As much as he didn’t want to, he headed towards the smell, though the silence that accompanied it didn’t sit right with the bard, causing him to take out the small blade at his waist.
Jaskier walked as lightly as he could, hoping that if there were any monsters around, he wouldn’t attract their attention.

After what felt like an age but was likely only ten minutes into his search Jaskier managed to find the source of the smell.

The first thing that Jaskier’s eyes focused on was a mess of silver hair, even though it was barely visible across the mess of monster limbs and gore. The dagger slipped from his fingers, and he felt his body begin to move, he saw himself crossing the clearing, not caring about how dirty he was getting as he stepped over and through the mess. He dropped to his knees, using shaking hands to push at the cold armour, watching as the body rolled over.
“Geralt?” His voice didn’t sound like his own, tentative and wavering.
“Geralt?” He shook the man laid out in front of him, placed a hand on his cold cheek.
He tore his eyes from his face to scan over his body, the wound in his chest, the blood soaking his armour and the ground surrounding them both, the way his knees were sinking into the mud underneath him, the mud that was thick and cold, despite the lack of water around them.
He pulled the heavy body into his lap, “Geralt, this can’t be real…” He cupped the Witcher’s cheek, as tears burnt clean trails into his dirtied cheeks. He felt the same tears drip from his chin, forming puddles on worn leather. He felt as the sun moved from warming his back to his face, as the shadows around them shifted, felt the passage of time rushing around them, stopping for nothing, even as Jaskier felt as though the world itself had ceased spinning.
A cold wind ran it’s fingers through his hair and caused a different shiver to run through Jaskier. He finally looked up, feeling as though his whole world had shifted and pitched to the side. He forced himself to his feet, before using a strength he didn’t know he had to pull Geralt back to the camp. He heard Roach stamp her hooves as he laid Geralt out next to the grave of the night’s fire. He looked down at himself, his blue clothes tinted to a sick shade of brown, his hands stained with blood, the blood that seemed to be everywhere.
His hands were still trembling as he ran a hand over Roach’s nose, trying to soothe her visible distress. His hands found their way around her neck.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Roach, I’m so sorry.” The words spilled out of him, as a new wave of tears poured from his eyes.
He felt the chill grow as the sun sunk back down beyond the horizon, out of a need of the familiar routine for some comfort, he lit a fire, and he sat. He sat and he talked, he told Geralt everything, everything he had kept inside. He told Geralt all about how he was going to be so angry with him when they reunited, all the things he was going to say to him, how he was going to forgive him because there was no way he couldn’t, and he apologised, over and over again. When the sun began to light the morning sky Jaskier’s throat hurt and his voice was hoarse.
“I guess this should be it then.” He said quietly, before looking up at Roach. “He would want a proper Witcher funeral, right?” He stood up, heading back over the mare and looking through her saddle bags. “I can’t quite give him everything…but I can try…that should count for something.”
He walked a short way back into the woods, it was strange building a pyre, it wasn’t something he had ever wanted to do before, and it wasn’t anything he wanted to ever do again.
He headed back to the camp, and feeling a strange sense of peace washing over him as he helped Geralt out of his armour for the last time. He carefully placed it next to his bedroll before taking Geralt to what would be his final resting place.
“I don’t even know if I’m doing this right. I think there’s a very short list of things I have done right in my life.” He ran his fingers through Roach’s mane, the mare resting her head on his shoulder and letting out a soft whinny.
“I know what would be on the top of the list. Meeting Geralt was equally the best and worst thing that has ever happened to me, but given the chance it would be the mistake I would make every time.”
He removed the medallion from around Geralt’s neck, feeling the cool metal slowly warm in his palm. He lit the mound and watched as it slowly burnt down. He stood with Roach until the last embers darkened and flickered out.
He said a last wordless goodbye, slipping the medallion over his head and tucking it close, feeling the weight settle on his chest.

Despite summer rearing her head Jaskier could not help but feel cold as the wind rustled the leaves, he packed everything up, strapping everything as best he could to Roach. He could almost hear Geralt’s scolding voice in the back of his mind as he failed to strap everything within its designated space. He was left with a decision as he looked at his lute and Geralt’s blades. With a small amount of deliberation, he strapped his lute to the packs and found where he had packed Geralt’s armour.
With a bit of work, he managed to put on the sheaths and adjust them with a struggle. He sheathed the swords, the weight heavy against his back, so different from the way his lute normally felt. He removed Roach’s reins from the branch where he had secured her.
With a heavy breath he mounted her, something he had rarely ever done. He gave them both time to adjust to the different feeling before urging her into a walk. With one last look into the trees, he headed out of the undergrowth, and onto the path.

Chapter Text

The weather was starting to change, the trees turning and the wind growing a more persistent chill. Jaskier’s knowledge of Geralt’s home was pretty scarce. As was everything else he knew about Geralt’s family and traditions, the years at his side only making him privy to the fewest of details. He knew the mountains where it stood, and the small village that stood at the base that all of the Wolves wintering there passed through.
Jaskier had decided that it was his responsibility to inform Geralt’s brothers of what had happened, he was the one that had found him, knew his final resting place. He still had his belongings, and he wanted to return those if that was the right thing to do. Even if it wasn’t the right thing to do Jaskier felt a sense of obligation, over the past months he had come to the realisation that it was something that he needed to do.
The beginning of winter was just around the corner as Jaskier arrived in Kaedwen at the base of the mountains. He stabled Roach, handing the stable hand a couple of extra coins with a soft smile, before entering the inn. Jaskier had taken to wearing Geralt’s swords permanently over his lute, and while he still played, he had stopped playing in taverns, and although it meant his life had been harder to get by without the coin, Jaskier just didn’t have the heart. The decision had come one night a few weeks after the start of his quest, when the tavern keeper had been especially enthusiastic about ‘the Witcher’s bard’ playing. It do not feel right to pick up that art of his life again, without the part of it that made it happen in the first place. 
He slid into a booth, ordering an ale as the barmaid passed by. When she returned and set the ale on the table Jaskier gave her a grateful smile, though the lady’s glaze lingered on his face, before looking back at the swords he had propped against the seat besides him.
“I could’ve sworn you were a Witcher with them swords strapped to your back, but you’ve got those pretty blue eyes.” Her tone was more curious than anything else, which he was getting used to. Once people got over the original shock got a closer look at him, they were often full of questions.
“Not a Witcher, but I am looking for one, have any passed through here yet?” He asked, taking a sip of his drink.
The maid shook her head, “Not yet, but should be any day now, we’ve found the Witchers tend to be creatures of habit.” She said with a small smile. “I’ll keep an extra eye out for you though.”
“Thank you, is there a room by chance?” He inquired hopefully, letting out a small sigh of relief when she nodded her head. He raised an eyebrow, his smile taking on a more flirtatious edge. “Is there any chance for a bath as well?” He asked, his smile only growing when the barmaid rolled her eyes playfully.
“Aye, I can have a bath sent up for you, would you like a bowl of stew as well? Cooked fresh this afternoon.” Jaskier nodded his head.
“That would be lovely, thank you.” The smile remained on his face as he handed her some coin, before sinking back into the seat as she retreated, the smile slipping from his face.
Jaskier had spent the past few months preparing for this, but now it was so close he was feeling apprehensive, he do not know much about Geralt’s brothers, and he do not know how they would react to him, or if they would even listen to what he had to say, but he had to try at least. It was the least he could do for them all, especially Geralt.

Jaskier spent two days in the inn, two very monotonous days. He was sat, eating a bowl of stew when someone entered, he looked up from his bowl, as he did whenever anyone entered, however he was greeted with the sight of an imposing individual, a pair of swords strapped to his back. He was quick to his feet, crossing the space between them before the other had even taken five steps into the room. “Can I get you a drink? Some stew? It’s very nice.” He offered, taking in the other’s appearance. He had mousy brown hair, not dissimilar from Jaskier’s own, and his face was heavily scarred on one side. Jaskier’s gaze lingered on his eyes, and he felt his chest tighten as he looked into the golden irises. He schooled his expression, which had slipped from the smile that had started off there. The Witcher in front of him furrowed his eyebrows as he considered the man in front of him, before nodding his head slightly.
“Sure, I’m not one to turn down a free meal.” The Witcher accepted, and Jaskier caught the barmaid’s attention and put in the order before leading the Witcher to the table.
As they sat across from each other, the Witcher crossed his arms on the table, leaning towards Jaskier as though he was trying to study him.
“I’ve never had someone approach me so quickly that do not trying to kill me, or get me to kill something.”
Jaskier gave the Witcher a smile, though he was finding it hard to make it meet his eyes, the image of dulled eyes flashing through his mind.
“Hmm, well, I’ve been waiting for you.” The maid slipped a bowl of stew and a tankard of ale onto the table, flashing them both a smile before leaving them in peace.
That caused the Witcher to raise an eyebrow. “Oh? Now that is new.” He pulled off his gloves, setting them down on the bench next to him before taking a bite of the stew. Jaskier do not miss the subtle smell he gave to the spoonful before placing it into his mouth. Jaskier do not blame him for being suspicious.
“Well, not you in particular, my dear Witcher, but either you or your brother.” He leaned back slightly, having lost his appetite now that he was faced with the very real situation he was in.
“I’m Jaskier.” He said, extending a hand towards him. The Witcher’s eyebrow’s furrowed very briefly, before shaking his hand.
“Eskel.” He took a drink. “Jaskier? Do not Geralt’s bard.” A smile appeared on Eskel’s face. “That explains how forward you are.”
Jaskier’s expression do not match the Witcher, it do not the first time he had been called that, and it likely wouldn’t be the last, but all the other times he didn’t have an obligation to explain everything that had happened and why the other Witcher wasn’t accompanying him.
“I thought that was Roach I saw in the stables, is he upstairs?” Eskel asked, noting the sour expression on Jaskier’s face.
The bard downed his cup to help swallow the lump in his throat, the air surrounding them feeling heavy. It was threatening to choke him, and all the mental preparation he had done do not any real preparation for how hard this was turning out to be.
“Ah.” He cleared his throat, trying to disguise the crack in his voice, though the way Eskel’s eyebrows furrowed revealed he’d not hidden anything from the Witcher.
“That was actually why I was looking for you.” He started, his voice quiet and heavy, the words threatening not to leave his chest, his eyes were focused on the bench just left of Eskel’s shoulder as he found he was unable to meet his eyes.
“I…I have some news for you.” Eskel leaned back, regarding Jaskier with a judging gaze.
“I think this would be a conversation best had in private.” He forced a smile onto his face and dragged his eyes to meet Eskel’s. “Eat first, and then we should speak.” Plus, this would give Jaskier more time to decide how to tell him.
It didn’t take long for Eskel to finish his meal and he was so pushing the bowl aside.
“So, a private conversation? Do you have a room?” Jaskier nodded his head, pushing up from the bench.
“Yes, this would be best had there.” His whole body felt heavy as he led the way up the stairs, well aware of Eskel’s presence behind him. He unlocked the door to his room and sat down on the bed. He watched as Eskel entered Jaskier saw as his eyes fell on Geralt’s swords in the corner of the room alongside Jaskier’s belongings that were still tucked away in Geralt’s saddle bags.
“Those…” Eskel swallowed heavily, shutting the door behind him. Jaskier let out a heavy breath to steel himself, before reaching under his shirt to remove the medallion. It was warm from his body heat, and as he held it out, he found the absence of the weight on his chest just as heavy.
“I’m so sorry.” If he do not know about his enhanced hearing Jaskier would’ve worried that Eskel hadn’t heard him.
Eskel do not move for what felt like an eternity, before he moved forward to take the medallion from Jaskier’s outstretched hand.
For the first time since that day Jaskier felt tears quickly build up and spill out onto his cheeks.
“I am so sorry.” He whispered again as Eskel sunk to his knees.
“How?” He asked, clutching the medallion, he looked up, and met Jaskier’s eyes.
“I…I do not.” Jaskier shook his head. “I do not know.”
“But, you were travelling with him, weren’t you there?” Jaskier shook his head again, faster this time as he let out a sob, he buried his face into his hands.
“We were, we had an argument, he told me…” He trailed off, feeling Eskel’s eyes on him. “We had gone our separate ways, and then one day I just found him, well Roach, I found Roach, just left, and you know Geralt, and he loves Roach more than anything. So, I waited, I waited for him, and when he do not come back, I looked for him, and he was just…” Jaskier’s voice cut off, the lump in his throat finally choking him. He felt the bed dip as Eskel sat beside him, an arm draped around his shoulder in an almost painfully familiar way.
“I do not know what it was, but he’d killed it.” Jaskier leaned into the embrace.
“I…I built him a pyre.” He lifted his head, finally meeting the Witcher’s eyes. “I do not know if that was that right thing to do, but I do not know what else I could do. I still have his armour, I thought I could give it back, I do not know if there was some kind of Witcher rites, but I do not…”
“Thank you.” Eskel turned the medallion over in his hands. “It’s warm…you’ve been wearing it?”
Jaskier nodded his head. “Just to keep it safe.” His voice was quiet and his tone betrayed the truth. He watched as Eskel ran his thumb over the wolf’s head, before holding it back out to Jaskier.
“He spoke about you a lot.” Jaskier furrowed his eyebrows.
“Every winter he would come, and he would always have more stories about how you had gotten yourself into more trouble.” Eskel let out a small huff, extending his hand further.
“You’ve done a good job of keeping it safe so far.” There was something else behind the words, something that Jaskier was not sure of. He took the chain, slipping it around his neck again. The weight settled back against his chest, over the past few months of wearing it, it felt like it had become part of him.
“Thank you.” He said quietly.
“I must thank you as well, Jaskier.” Eskel removed his arm from around the bard’s shoulders, putting a small amount of space between them. “There’s not many that would do so much for us.”
Jaskier shook his head quickly.
“Geralt is-was my friend. I just wished that I could’ve done more. I…I could take you there, in the spring, if that’s something you would like.”
“Thank you… That would be, I would like that very much.” He hummed slightly. “I bet the others would too.” The Witcher’s eyebrows furrowed in thought.
“Jaskier, I wonder if you would want to tell the others yourself. Vesemir would definitely want to ask you some questions, ones I wouldn’t be able to answer.”
When Jaskier remained quiet, a puzzled expression on his face Eskel continued.
“What I mean Jaskier, is would you come to Kaer Morhen with me? It would be nice to be able to hear some of Geralt’s stories, the ones we do not know.”
A soft smile formed on Jaskier’s face before he nodded. “I…Thank you, I would love that.”
Eskel claps a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s get some rest then, I usually head out at dawn-break. You do not want to be out on the trail when the sun goes down.”
“Noted.” Jaskier said with a small smile. “Thank you, Eskel.”
“Sleep tight, Jaskier.”

Chapter Text

It was before the first rays of sunlight were breaching the horizon when there was a gentle knock at the door. If Jaskier hadn’t already been awake he likely wouldn’t have heard it. He opened the door, greeting Eskel with a small smile.
“Did not know if did not be up or not.”
“Did not sleep.” Eskel gave him a small knowing smile. “Are we going to get moving?”
“Yeah, we should try and make good time. I’ll go and get Scorpion saddled up, so as soon as did not ready we can set out.” Jaskier nodded his head, watching the Witcher’s retreating form.

He packed away the few belongings that had made their way out of the packs onto the floor of the room, making sure that they had all been put back into their proper places. He wrote a short note, thanking the barmaid for her all her help and wrapped a couple of coins in the parchment before slipping it behind the bar.
It didn’t take him long before he was out in the stable, tacking up Roach and getting her ready for the trek with soft words of encouragement. When they had first met Jaskier often teased Geralt for doting so heavily on the horse, but he had started to understand it as they spent more time together and the past few months had shed new light, and he completely understood the depth of the relationship between Geralt and Roach. Travelling on the empty roads and through forests got lonely, and Roach was a very loyal companion and an extra set of ears and eyes; the mare had saved Jaskier’s hide more than once by not only alerting him to nearby danger but taking him safely away from it.

He led her out of the stable just as the haze of daybreak was starting to become visible around the silhouette of the mountains. The crisp air definitely had a chill to it that caused Jaskier to pull his cloak around himself a little tighter.
He felt Roach bump her head against his back, snapping him out of his thoughts. Jaskier had always had a problem of getting sucked into his own head, but what used to be a flow of jumble of melodies and lyrics had become more of a whirlpool of what-ifs and lost chances.
He ran his hand over Roach’s neck, feeling her warm breath ruffle his hair as she let out an appreciate huff.
“Thanks girl, you ready?” He asked softly, offering her the last piece of dried apple from his pocket. “I bet it’s going to feel strange going home without him, huh?” She bumped her nose lightly against his chest, over the spot where Geralt’s medallion sat, it feeling heavier than it had since he had first slipped the chain over his head.

“Ready?” Eskel came around the edge of the stable, Scorpion greeted Roach with a soft bump and a huff, which brought a small smile to Jaskier’s face. He nodded his head, giving Roach another pat before mounting her.
As they made their way towards the beginning of the trail a strange sort of aura filled the air between the pair, with the soft sound of hooves being the only sound as the world around them began to light up with the red glow of a new day.
“You’ll have to stick close, we call it the Killer for a reason.” Eskel warned, looking over at Jaskier as they got to the base of the mountains. Jaskier nodded his head in acknowledgment, causing a faint furrowing of the Witcher’s brow. A micro-expression Jaskier would’ve missed if he hadn’t trained himself on reading unreadable faces and hearing a multitude of words unspoken.
“I’m sure Roach knows where she’s going, I’ll follow the lead of those with experience.” A small smile appeared on his face at the sound of Eskel’s chuckle.
“Good idea.” A few more steady hoof beats filled the air. “It’s a little strange looking over, out of the corner of my eye I keep thinking it’s him.”
A sombre expression passed over Eskel’s features and he looked forward again.
“We did not often come up the trail together, but we did the first year we came back to winter.” Eskel was quiet for a few moments, gathering his thoughts, Jaskier giving him the time to do so.
“We made a pact before we set out on the Path for the first time that spring. We would wait for each other at the base of the mountain and travel up together. The village did not here then, so I set up camp and waited.” He swallowed heavily. “Four nights I waited. I was packing up camp on the fifth day when he arrived.” He let out a small sigh of a laugh. “I did not think he was coming; the ground was already beginning to frost and all he had to say was ‘Sorry I’m late.’ Prick.”
Eskel shook his head, the small smile on his face warped into a pained expression. “I thought he’d died. So many do in the first year. Seven of us took our first steps out that year. Only three of us returned in the winter.”
Jaskier reached over, touching his hand to Eskel’s shoulder to offer some comfort.
Eskel shifted slightly in Scorpion’s saddle.
“I know I said this last night, but thank you, Jaskier. I mean that. Too often we have been left with questions we never know the answers to. Too many stories lost to the sands of time, unknown even to us. It’s a fate all of us fear, yet all too often we are left to become nothing more than fire-side tales.”
“I thought I was going to be the only poet this winter, seems I was mistaken.” Some of the tension in the air dissipated as Eskel let out a small laugh and Jaskier cracked a smile.
“And I thought that you were a no-good bardling that never knew when to be quiet.” Eskel fired back with a raised eye-brow.
Jaskier scoffed, placing a hand on his chest. “My good sir! I have never heard such a false accusation in all my life!” Eskel tossed his head back in a laugh, before looking back at Jaskier with a grin. Jaskier did not help but smile back, feeling lighter than he had in months.

The sun began to make its way further into the sky, and was soon over their heads, and despite the rays beating down on them the wind was freezing. They did not stop until they decided to have some lunch at a gentler part of the trail, giving both them and the horses a rest. Jaskier gladly dismounted Roach, removing the packs from her back so that she could have a break.
“You certainly deserve one, did not you girl?” Eskel let out a small chuckle as he did the same for Scorpion.
“You dote on her almost as much as Geralt did.” Jaskier turned to look at him with a small frown on his face, rubbing over the mare’s nose.
“That’s not a bad thing, she’s a wonderful girl, aren’t you Roach? She deserves all the pampering she can get.” Roach nuzzled at his doublet and Jaskier had to let out a small laugh, rubbing behind her ears.
“I never said it was.” He gave Scorpion a pat before sitting down against a rock. “It took me by surprise this morning when I rounded the corner and saw you with the swords strapped to your back. Anyone else would’ve mistaken you for a Witcher.”
Jaskier sat down next to him and let out a small laugh. “You are right on that one…The looks did not been pleasant. I did not know what gets the worse reaction, before or after they realise I’m not a Witcher after all.”
Eskel gave him a confused look. “How long have you been wearing them?”
Jaskier shrugged slightly, digging in his pack for something to eat. “A few months…since, well.” He took a bite of jerky, and Eskel gave a knowing nod.
“It did not feel right just packing them away…plus they’re very heavy…I was better off carrying them than our darling Roach.”
Eskel shook his head again slightly before taking a bite of bread.
“Have you ever used them?”
Jaskier was quick to shake his head. “I did not think I could, they’re much too big and heavy for me, I prefer a dagger, or at least a short sword.”
“A short sword? So, did not not completely hopeless then?”
“Of course not, I am a Viscount after all.” Eskel raised a sceptical eyebrow. At the expression on the Witcher’s face Jaskier stood up, sweeping into a deep bow.
“Viscount de Lettenhove, Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service, my dear Witcher.” He took hold of Eskel’s hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. Eskel turned their hands, pressing a kiss of his own to the back of Jaskier’s hand in return. “It’s a pleasure to be within your company Viscount Pankratz.” Once his hand was released Jaskier retook his seat. “I prefer Jaskier these days, a respectable name I’ve made for myself.”
“Oh yeah, very respectable indeed, spoken across all seven kingdoms. I’ve heard your little ‘coin’ song in nearly every tavern I’ve stepped foot in. It’s absurdly catchy.”
“Well, I’ll gladly play it for you so you can hear it exactly how it’s supposed to sound.” Eskel did not help but smile.
“There’ll be plenty of time for that tonight, but we should finish eating and then get moving again; before the day slips away from us. The Killer is dangerous enough during the day, never mind once the sun has set.”
“Anyone would think that you did not want me to play for you.” Jaskier teased, finishing off his jerky.
“Oh quite the contrary, we just did not want to attract any unsavoury creatures. There are plenty we could encounter, and I did not want to increase our chances.”

It did not long before they were off again, both eager to get to their destination.
A bit further up the trail Eskel held out his hand, stilling them both, the Witcher dismounted, drawing his silver sword just as there was a crash on the right side of him, a blur coming flying towards them. Roach bolted, heading further up the path with Scorpion hot on her heels. By the time Jaskier managed to get her under control enough to dismount the sounds of battle were clear in the air. He made it down the path just in time to see Eskel narrowly avoid a swoop of the beast’s deadly tail and bring down his sword to cut off the trident. In a deadly dance the reptile tried to get up off the ground, attempting to get the upper hand from the air; however, Eskel was quicker and used a ledge to gain the upper ground just for the few seconds he needed to behead the beast.

Even though Eskel had been the one fighting, Jaskier felt as though he’d had a hit to the chest, knocking all of the air from him. He forced his feet forward, dodging the remains of the reptile.
“Geralt! Are- “ Jaskier took a sharp intake of breath.
“Are you hurt?” He corrected as he used his hand to wipe over Eskel’s cheek, removing some of the gore that had found its way there, eyes scanning him over for injuries.
“Just a wyvern. It’s to be expected.” Eskel sheathed his sword with a slight shrug, wiping the rest of the gore from his face using his sleeve. “Some of the first things we learn to fight. There are nests of them all the way up and down the trail. It feels like we’re always clearing them out, and yet they always seem to come back.” Seemingly brushing off Jaskier’s mistake without a second thought.

“Come on, we did not stay here forever.”

Jaskier nodded his head, giving Eskel another quick visual once over as he followed him back up the trail a short way to where the horses were waiting.  As they continued on a tense silence filled the air between them; Jaskier did not help but feel guilty about his slip-up, he did not the only one grieving, and the wound was a lot fresher for Eskel, it hadn’t even been 24 hours since he had found out about his brother. He could not allow a rift between them to form this early on.

“Eskel, I’m sorry, it was-“
“Jaskier, it’s fine.” Eskel cut him off, waving his hand to dismiss the bard’s words. His voice sounded heavy, which Jaskier knew was from a lump in his throat. Jaskier was used to reading between the lines, and the way Eskel’s shoulders were so tensely set told Jaskier that it did not fine, but apparently being stubborn and emotionally repressed must run in the family.

Jaskier ran his hand over Roach’s neck, knowing that pushing any further was likely to end in an argument, and he did not want any more fights, not over emotions. He was a bard, bards weren’t emotionally repressed; and Witchers did not deserve to be either.

Chapter Text

As the sun was beginning to make its way back down below the horizon the pair reached the end of the trail. The temperature had dropped even further and Jaskier was shivering, even under his multiple layers.
“Come on, nearly there, it’s just over the crest of the hill and around the bend.” Eskel clapped him on the shoulder finally breaking the silence that had accompanied them for the rest of their journey up the mountains. Though the tension had eased, neither of the travel companions had been brave enough to brooch another conversation. Though Jaskier could tell he wasn’t the only feeling apprehensive about reaching the castle, he swallowed heavily, he didn’t feel worthy enough to even be this close. Even without the entrance within view, the building certainly was. It almost looked as if it had grown out of the side of the mountain, the walls merging seamlessly with the jagged cliff face. Ever since it had come into view Jaskier felt as though the stone itself was watching him, judging him to see if he was worthy enough to approach.

He did not feel worthy, he felt as though he was a player on a stage, dressed up in a thick cloak and gloves with a pair of Witcher’s swords strapped to his back that he could not use, and a medallion sat heavily against his chest. He was wearing a costume he would never be able to fill and the pressure was threatening to keep him from going further.

On the approach the walls seemed to grow taller with every passing second, making Jaskier feel even smaller and insignificant than he had before. Jaskier’s hesitance to go any further wasn’t shared in any part by Roach, who was tugging Jaskier forward as she sped up on the approach, eager to get to a familiar place, probably the closest she had to a home. Knowing that a warm stable and fresh hay drew her ever closer to the gates.

A sickening feeling was growing in his chest that he would never be able to see the inside of the keep. Even though Eskel had been welcoming, that didn’t mean that Vesemir had to be. Geralt hadn’t shared stories about his family and home often, but from what he did know, Geralt’s father figure was awfully protective of everything surrounding the Witcher’s and their secrets; and rightly so. Jaskier was an outsider, he wasn’t even a Witcher from another school, he was just a bard. A bard who had made his name singing about Witchers. There was another possibility that Jaskier would get to see the inside of the walls, but they would be the last thing that he ever saw. He could live with that though, it definitely wasn’t the worse ending destiny could have lined up for him. Maybe it would be the one he most deserved.

“Get out of that head of yours bard. You’re going to hurt yourself thinking that hard.” Jaskier hadn’t even noticed that the Witcher had been watching him, though he caught the slightly concerned expression as he turned his head to meet his gaze. Jaskier shot him, what he hoped, was a reassuring smile before he tugged his cloak together around himself despite it doing little to fend off the cold.

The only thing stopping the bard from turning on his heels and running all the way back down the mountain was the possibility of a hot fire, and maybe even a warm drink and something to eat. Even if he was tossed straight into the dungeons, he would at least be out of the wind.

As they rounded the final corner Jaskier could spot a figure waiting just inside the gate. He noted that the large imposing gates remained bolted shut, with only a small door granting them access, just enough space for the horses to walk through. Eskel dismounted and let go of Scorpion’s reins as they got closer, greeting the older Witcher with a tight hug. Jaskier followed his lead and dismounted from Roach. He held back a little, giving the pair a small amount of privacy and space, despite the protesting snort from the mare. Eskel pulled back, turning and holding out his arm to gesture towards the bard.
“This is Jaskier.” Eskel introduced briefly as Jaskier approached, greeting the elder with a respectful bow.
“Jaskier..?” Vesemir questioned with a raised eyebrow, giving him a quick look over, before looking back to Eskel. Vesemir’s face was schooled into a carefully neutral expression, while Eskel’s quickly morphed and he placed his hand on Vesemir’s shoulder.
“We can explain once we’re all inside.” Vesemir returned the gesture, and the two shared a look that Jaskier could not begin to decode before the elder wolf returned inside the keep.
Eskel picked up Scorpion’s reins again, and lead the way to the stables, though neither of the horses seemed to need any guidance.
Jaskier hesitated in untacking Roach, though he couldn’t raise his eyes to meet Eskel’s, and instead had them fixed on one of her buckles. While the cold did make the untacking process slower it wasn’t that which was preventing Jaskier.

“Does…” Jaskier swallowed heavily, “he has an idea what has happened, doesn’t he?”

Eskel’s hands stilled as he was untying the packs from Scorpion’s saddle.
“I imagine he has a very good idea. Yes. He knows you have Geralt’s swords, and there’s Roach.” Eskel continued with removing the bags, unbuckling Scorpion’s saddle.
“I suspect he had an idea before even you did.” He gave Scorpion a pat before continuing with his routine. Jaskier glanced up before willing his fingers to move again.

“He might seem coarse, but he’ll be grateful that you came, that you’re here to tell him.” Eskel finished by laying out some fresh hay for both of the horses before moving to help Jaskier with Roach, putting all her tack in the right places in the stable.

Jaskier watched as he moved around the stable with ease, knowing that it was second nature for him. He watched as he hesitated, hands on Roach’s bridle where it hung. He felt a gap that he wanted to fill, maybe in the past he would’ve been able to say something, would’ve been able to make the right comment to lighten the mood, to offer some comfort. There were no words that felt right though, nothing would be able to lessen the hole that was so present.

Eskel turned back to him and they both shared similar expressions, both electing to turn a blind eye.

“Come on, let’s go and get warm.” He urged Jaskier out of the stables with a gentle pressure on his back.

Jaskier couldn’t help his eyes wandering as they approached the keep he could feel the history of the pace seeping out between every brick as they entered, and though his mind was buzzing with a million questions he wanted to ask, simultaneously all he could think about was the fact that this was the place where Geralt grew up. He probably got bruised knees from falling on the flagstones, scrapes from playing in the undergrowth in the warmer seasons. It was also a building that held a lot of pain, something Jaskier didn’t know the details of, but he had had his fair share of pain to be able to feel it.

“I’ll get you set up in a room, so you can get a little settled in first. I know you must be worn out.” Eskel explained with a soft smile as he led the way up a flight of steps. Thick tapestries and banners lined the walls to muffle the echoing stone, and probably to try and trap some of the warmth. Some were older than others, but every single one of them were at least decades older than Jaskier was.
Eskel pushed open a door, gesturing inwards to the nearly empty room.
“You can take this one, mine is two doors down,” Eskel pointing down the corridor, “When you’re ready to head down just knock and we can head down.” Eskel gave him with a soft smile and a pat on the back before leaving him to get settled into his own space. Jaskier stood with just his toes crossing the threshold for a few minutes.
It felt like such a huge step, entering the room, despite its bare-boned appearance. There was so much history in this room that had likely been lost to the sands of time. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before stepping in. There was no big moment or revelation, there wasn’t any kind of shift, nor did Jaskier feel any different from the few steps he had taken into the room. But not that he had any expectations to. As he further entered the room he took his time to commit everything to memory before he had any kind of mark.

He ran his fingers over the coarse sheets, a couple of slightly dusty furs folded on the lid of trunk at the foot of the simple cot. He removed both of Geralt’s swords, laying them carefully down. He reached under his shirt, wrapping a hand around the medallion. He couldn’t bring himself to remove it though; he held it tighter for a few seconds, squeezing his eyes closed as he felt tears threatening to fall. He took a deep breath and let the weight fall back against this chest. He knew that he would likely have to give it back to the Witchers eventually, but he hoped that he would be granted at least a few more hours of wear. The first time he had taken it off since the fateful day in the forest had been just the previous day when he had offered it to Eskel. Over his months of wearing it, it had almost become a part of himself. Geralt had mentioned once that it was able to detect magic, something he had almost forgotten about until two months ago when he was able to avoid the advances of a pushy mage due to the vibration warning him that a spell had been cast.

He set his bags down against the side of the trunk and began the tedious process of removing his outer layers. As he changed out of his dirty travelling clothes and into something a little more comfortable and a lot cleaner his mind wandered once more, the room he was in felt almost formal. The room was plain, with no decorations or personal touches to be noted. While he knew that Witchers weren’t meant to have feelings, he also knew that this wasn’t true. He had spent enough time with Geralt to know that even though he had done his best to repress them, the emotions were still there. He also knew that Geralt carried sentimental items, while it was not many, Jaskier knew of at least three items that Geralt had that seemingly had no use, only one of which were currently in his bags. He tentatively assumed that the others were here, which meant that Geralt likely had a room here, this theory was further backed by Eskel’s lack of thought as he had lead them to this corridor and rooms.

He shook the thought from his head as he pulled on yet another layer. Part of his mind was telling him to dress presentably to make a good impression on Vesemir, yet the more rational part of his brain was telling him to dress for warmth. That was the part that won, even in the room Jaskier could feel the cold and he half wondered if it was the castles way of making sure he did not feel welcome within the walls.

He almost took a seat on the bed, but decided that if he sat down, he would likely never make it to Eskel’s room, the exhaustion of the journey weighing heavy in his bones, not just of the day but of the past months.

Chapter Text

He left everything but himself in the room, before making the short trip down the hall to knock on Eskel’s door, his call of “Just a moment!” Echoing through the thick oak and into the empty corridor. Jaskier found himself fiddling with the chain around his neck as he waited, a small habit he had developed without notice over the months that had passed.

The door opened after a minute or so and he was greeted with a soft smile. “Let’s go and grab something to eat, and I can properly introduce you to Vesemir.” Jaskier nodded his head, though they both knew the heavier context behind what was to come with the conversations that needed to happen.

As Jaskier found himself seated by the fire in the main hall, a fur heavy around his shoulders he realised that how he had got here, and how the mug in hands had found its way there was a complete blur. He looked away from the crackling fire, and over to where the two Witchers were having a quiet conversation. He couldn’t work out the topic of the conversation, their voices too hushed for his human ears to pick up, but from the expressions on both of their faces it wasn’t an overly pleasant conversation.

It wasn’t the first time Jaskier had noticed he had seemingly lost time, the odd day that the sun seemed to set sooner than it should have, arriving in towns sooner than I felt he should’ve. Every time he dismissed it as just being tired and needing to sleep, and this time was no different, the journey up to the keep had been strenuous, not to mention the long journey before that. He ran a hand over his face to wake himself up a little which caught Eskel’s attention, a look of faint concern on his features.

“Feeling better now you’ve warmed up a little?” He asked softly, shifting in his seat to better face the bard. There was something in his voice that Jaskier couldn’t quite place, but he did not have the mental energy to try and unpack what it could mean.

Jaskier nodded his head, “I think the trek has taken it out of me.” He took a deep drink from the mug he was holding, it was some kind of spiced mead warming from the spices it contained as well as temperature. He was very grateful for it as some of the chill that had settled within him had begun to warm.

Vesemir let out a soft huff that could’ve almost been a laugh. “I think even the hardiest of Witchers get worn out on the way up here, so you did well to make it here on your own two feet.”

“Well, I have Eskel to thank for that, and Roach of course.” The slight smile fell from his face at the thought of the horse in the stable, and the real reason that he was here. Eskel dismissed the praise with a slight wave of his hand.

“Has Eskel…?” Jaskier looked between the pair, hoping that the worst part of the conversation was over already.

Vesemir met him with a heavy nod, his expression shifting to one more solemn.
“I already had a good idea, I felt a shift probably about 5 months ago and had my suspicions when you showed up.” A heavy silence filled the air as all three of them fought to find the words to properly fill it.

“Ger-“ Jaskier choked back, the name too heavy on his mind to come out from his chest. He swallowed heavily as his hand came to rest over the medallion, a finger tracing the chain.
“It was around that time, I don’t know for certain, but…” He was at a loss for words, something that didn’t happen often to him. He squeezed his eyes shut, in an attempt to stop the tears that were forming from spilling over. The silence threatened to consume them all again, creeping in from the shadows. Jaskier couldn’t find a single word to break through it, and it wasn’t until he felt a soft hand on his shoulder, did he open his eyes again, the glow from the fire almost blinding. Jaskier could not bring himself to raise his gaze above the flames.

“I think this is something better breached after some food and a warm bed.” Vesemir released Jaskier’s shoulder, but something in the elder’s expression had the tears in Jaskier’s eyes rolling down his cheeks regardless, leaving hot paths before dripping from his chin. He agreed with a small nod, twisting the mug in his hands.

Vesemir turned back to Eskel, giving Jaskier a bit of privacy to hastily wipe at his face.
“I’m sure I can entrust the task of making sure our guest is fed and settled tonight to you Eskel? I will see you both in the morning. I have some things I need to attend to.” Eskel nodded his head in acceptance. Vesemir clapped his fellow Witcher on the shoulder, and giving Jaskier a small nod before he exited the hall.

Jaskier scrubbed his hands over his face, and through his hair, letting out a heavy sigh. Eskel let him have a few moments before standing up.

“Let’s go back to the kitchen and find something to eat, I know I’m half-starved.” Jaskier joined him, though he wasn’t eager to leave the fur behind, instead opting to leave his now empty mug in favour of having two hands to hold the fur around his shoulders.

He followed Eskel through a couple of doors, and knew that he would have to make sure not to stray too far. The keep was a maze of stone, all of which looked the same to Jaskier’s untrained eyes. He hoped he would become familiar with the different corridors, and maybe even have the privilege to learn some of the history behind them. Though that was the last thing on the bard’s mind, especially after Eskel had pushed open another heavy door and the smell of a warm stew had filled Jaskier’s nose.

Eskel crossed the room, throwing some of the wood that had been neatly piled next to the fireplace onto the dwindling flames to rekindle them, he gave the fire a stoke and soon the wood began to pop and crackle.

“Just a venison stew I’m afraid.” Eskel explained, grabbing two bowls from a shelf.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about, it smells absolutely divine. I’d never complain about a hot meal.”

Eskel chuckled softly as he dished out two hearty portions, setting them both on the table which sat in one corner of the room. “It’s definitely a staple around here. Especially at this time of year before the snow really sets in.”

Jaskier took a seat, pulling the hand-carved bowl closer. He watched as Eskel sat across from him and began eating. He was glad for the warmth, it was nice and hearty, and was definitely somewhere on the list of the better things he had eaten in his life. While it certainly wasn’t fit for a banquet, Jaskier couldn’t imagine a better meal to fill his stomach.

The silence that filled the space was more comfortable than it had been, with the pair enjoying the meal. Jaskier had initially wanted to savour the meal but as he began to eat he found himself wolfing it down his hunger getting the best of him. He didn’t notice Eskel’s slightly raised eyebrow as he scraped his bowl.

“That was delicious.” Jaskier said plainly as he sat back in his chair. Eskel let out a huff of a laugh.

“A hard day’s work is the best seasoning.” He retorted with a soft smile. Jaskier felt as though a lead weight had just dropped in his stomach, that the chair had given way underneath him.

That was something Geralt had often said to him as they were sat around a campfire, or sometimes not, but always after a period of travelling and usually several hours of complaints from Jaskier about how long they had been on the road, and how little food they had, and the quality of the food. Nights of jerky and nuts and whatever else Geralt was able to forage around the camp they had made. He could also hear the soft huff of amusement Geralt let out whenever Jaskier fawned over any kind of rabbit meal, roast rabbit, rabbit stew.

“-kier?” Jaskier blinked heavily, “Jaskier?” He focused his eyes on Eskel’s apprehensive expression.

“You back with me?” His voice had a similar edge to earlier something Jaskier faintly registered as concern. Jaskier gave his head a nod, shifting to sit up in his chair and scrubbed his hand over his face.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m just…” He looked back at Eskel, before down at the table noting that Eskel’s bowl was now empty. “I’m just tired.” He shot him a faint smile which was not returned.

Eskel looked like he was about to say something, then thought better of it.

“Another drink?” He asked instead and Jaskier nodded his head.

“I did leave my cup in the other room.” Eskel stood, scooping up both of their bowls and depositing them on a side close to the fireplace.

“That’s no problem, I’ll bring the bottle with us.” He gestured his head back towards the door. “Come on, it’s more comfortable by the big fire.”

Jaskier stood, hitching the fur back around his shoulders and trailing after the Witcher.

They soon found themselves sat around the fireplace once more, Eskel was right about it being more comfortable. While it was not the most comfortable chair he had ever sat in Jaskier found himself sinking into it, pulling the fur tighter around himself. Eskel poured him another drink with a soft apology for it not being warmed by the fire this time.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes as Jaskier took a drink.

“So,” Eskel spoke up after taking a drink of his own. “How long had you been waiting before I turned up?”

Jaskier hummed slightly, “Not long, last night made it four nights, but it was later in the afternoon when I had arrived, so I’d say only two days.” Eskel nodded his head, eyeing Jaskier as his hand found the chain around his neck.

“That’s good. It’s a nice inn, but I wouldn’t have wanted you to spend all of your coin.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement. “It was nice…but, there was not much to do.”

Eskel huffed out a laugh. “You can say that again, there are some lovely people, but not much to do.”

“In truth I spent most of my time looking out for you or your brother.” Eskel’s face fell slightly, though the expression was gone as quick as it had come.

“You’re lucky it was me and not Lambert.” Jaskier looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Lambert is not as…” He hummed, “How should I say this…welcoming, as I can be.”

“Oh…well I am glad.” Eskel smiled at the expression on Jaskier’s face.

“I mean, given enough booze and rounds of Gwent and he would warm up to you soon enough, but he wouldn’t take kindly to being approached so….”

Jaskier pulled an expression, knowing exactly what Eskel was trying to tell him.

“What can I say, my charm gets me into many doors…” He considered for a moment, “Admittedly it also gets many shut in my face, but alas, it is who I am.”

Eskel shook his head in amusement. A small smile tugged at the corner of Jaskier’s lips before he finished his drink.

Eskel opened his mouth to say something else, but was very quickly cut off by a loud yawn coming from Jaskier. He scrubbed over his face, but the weariness was evident in his eyes as he set his cup down.

Eskel stood, gesturing Jaskier up.

“Come on, I’ve kept you long enough, Vesemir would have my head if I let you fall asleep down here.”

Jaskier brought the fur with him as he stood, carefully following Eskel through the corridors back towards his room.

“I won’t be heading to sleep straight away, but feel free to come and knock on my door if you need anything.” He hesitated slightly, considering something. “I’m not going to give you the benefit of the doubt when it comes to navigating this place, so please try not to wander off, though if you do find yourself turned around just yell and either me or Vesemir will hear you.”

Jaskier nodded. “I don’t think you’ll have much problem with me wandering tonight my dear Witcher, I think I’m tired enough to sleep for a week.”

Eskel patted him on the arm with a soft expression. “Then I will keep you no longer, rest well Jaskier.”

“You too Eskel.” He watched as Eskel turned to head back down the corridor before calling out, “Thank you.” Eskel turned back to him and gave him a nod, watching as Jaskier entered his room.

It did not take Jaskier long to ready himself for bed, and he soon found himself under the blanket and furs on the bed. While it was far from the most comfortable sleeping arrangement it served its purpose well enough. Jaskier was able to note that he was able to see a sliver of the sky through the brick work, the stars seemed brighter and more plentiful here, even from the small glimpse he had.

Chapter Text

Before Jaskier had opened his eyes he could feel a faint breeze brushing across his face. It was a very cold breeze, and he rolled over to avoid it, tucking his face into furs that smelt faintly of dusk and must. That was new, he was used to sleeping under unfamiliar bedding, but rarely did they smell like that hadn’t been touched in months, maybe even longer his sleep addled brain added helpfully. He let out a groan as he buried his face deeper into the blankets. His whole body ached with a weariness that one night’s sleep was never going to be able to counter. He did not move again for several moments, fighting against the urge to let himself drift back off to sleep with the dry feeling in his mouth. With a hefty sigh he opened his eyes, rolling onto his back. His eyes briefly scanned the ceiling above him, and he caught the sky through the crack above him. The sky was a pale blue, clear from clouds in the small section he could see. His brain was slow to process, but he remembered where he was as he sat up, leaning forward to stretch out his back with a soft groan. He got himself out of bed and took stock of his clothes. A shiver running through him made him layer up again, though he decided to forgo the fur he had sported the previous night. He deliberated over his travelling cape but his socialite upbringing made him wear all three of his under-shirts instead underneath his thickest doublet. Eskel must’ve heard him moving around because shortly after pulling on his boots over two pairs of socks and exiting the room he was greeted with Eskel rounding the corner.

“Morning.” Eskel greeted simply, “Sleep well?”

Jaskier nodded with a small hum. “I don’t feel nearly as weary as I did last night.”

Eskel smiled softly at that, “Good, I’m glad to hear it.” Jaskier came to meet him at the end of the corridor, following as they made their way back through the maze of stone. While there was not much natural light the place did feel lighter with the start of a new day.

“I was thinking that I could give you a real tour today; now you’re not so dead on your feet?” Eskel questioned.

“I would like that. I’m hoping that at least by the end of my time here that all the stone won’t be looking quite so identical.” Jaskier said with a slight laugh. “I’m sure there is lots of personality hiding within these…cold…walls.” He frowned slightly. “Seems my lyrical prowess is lacking somewhat these days.”

Eskel was shaking his head slightly, though his expression gave away that the bard was amusing him, even if he was trying to hide it.

“Come on, we’ll start down at the main hall.” Eskel lead them back down to where they had been the previous night. Even with the daylight streaming through the windows the sconces on the walls were still lit intermittently in the darkest corners. It almost felt like a liminal space, somewhere trapped between night and day. Jaskier did his best to take everything in, noting the discrepancies between the aged tapestries and the stonework, even still he knew that it would take time before he would be able to move around the keep with the ease that Eskel and Vesemir had. It could be that was time he wouldn’t have. He had this winter, but it was not as though he was a Witcher. He was realistic in his expectations that once he had shared his information and stories and the air began to warm, and life began anew again, he would be on his way, a line drawn abruptly under this part of his life, the defining feature of his adult years, the reason he-

“Oof-“ He winded himself as he walked straight into Eskel’s back, mind distracted enough that he hadn’t notice Eskel had paused in his step.

“Sorry dear heart, I was not looking where I was going.” He let out a slightly nervous huff. “I was just pondering the infinite amount of stories that must lie within these walls, yearning to break free.” Eskel turned to look at him, eyebrow raised slightly.

“That so?”

“It is so, my dear Witcher.” He patted his hands up and down Eskel’s side, flitting like a trapped bird. “I must say, you Witchers must all be very solid, must be useful for protection, lifting those big swords…”

“Jaskier…” There was a sheepish expression on the bard’s face, one of Eskel’s hands came to rest on his shoulder. This seemed to calm some of nervous energy radiating from the human.

“Okay?” He asked, eyebrow raised as he looked at Jaskier. He removed his hand once he got a nod of confirmation from the human. “Okay, so here’s the main hall where we were last night. We do tend to spend a lot of time together in here, with the fire and all, either here or the kitchen.”

Jaskier took the time to look around and fully take in the view. He hadn’t had enough energy to appreciate the vastness of the room the previous night. The walls were tall, the ceiling almost out of view and the light struggled to reach the rafters. Jaskier could sense that this had once been a place of greatness, with people to fill the space. While the structure had survived the test of time, the grandeur hadn’t. Where once there may have been open space or dining tables there were shelves piled high with a multitude of different objects, many seeming like they did not belong.

He must’ve had the question written across his face because as soon as Eskel looked over to him an expression that was difficult to describe came over him. There were many ways Jaskier could’ve described it but it wouldn’t have been quite right. It wasn’t a happy expression, it was adjacent to grief, but that wasn’t right either. He thought he would get an explanation from Eskel, but instead a third voice joined them. Jaskier hadn’t even noticed the elder wolf entering the room, but he must’ve done as he was stood only a short distance from the pair.

He also must’ve been able to sense the bard’s question, “Other than on the odd occasion and during the winter it is just me in the keep. While I am still very able, there is only so much I am able and willing to do.”

“This keep was made for more than four-” there was a slight hesitation as he realised his mistake though he chose not to correct himself, “-Witchers. When I was still traversing the Path there was a whole community of Witchers that resided full time here, not to mention the young recruits that had not yet gone through the trials.”

Jaskier nodded his head as he listened, taking another look around the hall before meeting Vesemir’s eyes.

“It must be hard.” That was putting it lightly and Jaskier knew it. He did not know all the details, but you would be hard pressed to find anyone who did not know about the pogrom of the Witchers. It was long before Jaskier’s time, but something of that scale had caused a shift that was still being felt to this day. The emptiness and quiet of the keep had a heaviness that was almost oppressive. He could imagine it bustling with life, the constant noise and moving of people, likely similar to his time at Oxenfurt University, although likely with a lot less music, singing, and frivolity.

Vesemir cleared his throat, placing a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “It’s all in the past, while it is important that we remember, it must not impact our present.” Jaskier wasn’t sure how he felt about the statement, not in this moment. He caught a troubled look on Eskel’s face, though it was gone as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Jaskier to wonder if he had seen it, or if he was projecting. Despite both his own and Eskel’s seemingly troubled feelings the look on the old Wolf’s face quashed any dispute. “Life is for the living.” Vesemir punctuated the statement with a pat to Jaskier’s shoulder, taking a step back from the pair.

“I’m going to show him the kitchen in the day light and grab some breakfast before I show Jaskier around the rest of the keep.” Vesemir nodded his head.

“I’ll be out in the courtyard finishing shoring up the east wall. I want to get it secure before the worst of the snow hits.”

“I’ll be out to help you before too long.” Vesemir acknowledged Eskel before leaving the hall.

Jaskier soon found himself in the kitchen, the daylight did wonders to light up the space. The kitchen was often a source of life within a home, and while it wasn’t a conventional home the keep was a home none-the-less. There was evidence of Vesemir’s early rising and Eskel moved about the space with ease.

“Most days there would be a pot of porridge, but seems Vesemir opted for bread.”

“Bread suits me just fine.” Eskel turned to him with a soft expression. The pair sat in a comfortable silence as they shared a humble breakfast.

“I may not be able to provide much help in terms of securing the walls, however I would happily prevent myself from becoming idle by assisting with any cooking and cleaning. I am also able to assist in repairs to any clothing or armour, I have found myself to have developed quite a skill set in regards to repairs. If you were to be so inclined I would also be more than happy to add some embellishments-” Jaskier was startled out of his ramble by a faint chuckle, he raised his eyes to meet Eskel’s amused expression.

“No need to try and persuade me you can be useful Jaskier, we’ll be grateful for your help. Any and all help is needed over the winter.” Jaskier felt his cheeks flush slightly.

“Well, that is of comfort to hear.” Jaskier brushed his hands clean of crumbs. “I know that you were planning on giving me the grand tour, but perhaps I can settle myself in by preparing lunch and you can help dear Vesemir with the wall while the day is still young?”

Eskel considered him closely. “I suppose the keep isn’t going anywhere, but no one would blame you if you wished to take a bit of time to rest from our journey here.”

Jaskier considered it briefly, but the days in the inn he had spent waiting for Eskel to pass through had made him stir crazy even now that he was where he had intended to end up.

“A good night’s sleep can instil such energy my dear Witcher, and it would only be right of me to showcase my gracious thanks for the daring rescue you provided.”

Eskel quirked his eyebrow in amusement. “Should I expect to hear a song detailing as such?”

The expression on Jaskier’s face fell as it felt like a stone fell onto his chest. He hadn’t played in months, his lute tucked safely away. He hadn’t played in so long, he wasn’t even sure that he could play any more.

Jaskier took a deep inhale to try and ease the tightness growing in his chest and forced an uneasy smile back onto his face.

“Ah my dear Eskel, I will need more inspiration than that.” As a way of drawing a line under the conversation. “Now, is anything out of bounds or shall I make us a hearty meal?”

The Witcher has an almost troubled expression on his face, but dismissed it with a small shake of the head.

“Well, you’re welcome to use anything in the kitchen, do bare in mind that it will have to last us a few days. I will venture down to Kaedwen to stock up before the snow settles properly for the winter, but it is best to err on the side of caution.”

Jaskier nodded his head. “Lovely, now go and make yourself useful dear heart.”

Eskel couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Watch yourself bardling.”