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Eskel woke to a cold bed, which was the first red flag in his mind. Wintering at Kaer Morhen like they were, it was rare for Jaskier to even be awake before him, much less before dawn was even close. His internal clock told him it was still the middle of the night. Jaskier’s side of the bed wasn’t even warm anymore. He slipped out of the warmth of the several piled furs and quilts. It was safe in Kaer Morhen, but surely there was a reason Jaskier was out of bed.
He was just thankful that his lover had a habit of wearing strong perfume that he could easily trace the path of. Down to the kitchen, where he was expecting to see Jaskier getting a midnight snack, yet he wasn’t there. There was just the lingering scent of tea, a stronger trail for him to follow.
But the longer he walked, the more worried he got. The trail led him outside, to the gate, and then some. Was Jaskier kidnapped? The thought made him immediately break into a run, barely registering the stones and twigs under his bare feet.
The trail led him into the woods, which only made him more worried. Had someone infiltrated the keep while they were all asleep? Surely it shouldn’t have been possible, yet the gates had been opened just barely. He didn’t even think it possible for someone to infiltrate during the winter, the pass was blocked, but it had been quite warm the past few nights.
Just as he was debating going back and waking everyone up for a search party, he crashed into a clearing where Jaskier was sitting, perched calmly atop a log with a mug in his hands. The bard had startled at Eskel’s sudden appearance, but settled when his eyes adjusted and realized who it was.
“Eskel? What are you doing out here?” he asked as he settled back on his makeshift seat.
“Could ask you the same,” Eskel said, trying to calm his racing heart as he walked over to sit down next to Jaskier. “What are you doing so far from the keep this late?”
“Needed to think.” Jaskier sighed and glanced up at the stars. They painted a beautiful canvas above, a smattering of lights against the dark trees.
“You know it’s dangerous outside of the keep,” Eskel murmured. “And cold.” He wrapped an arm around Jaskier’s shoulders, his point proven by how tense Jaskier was to try to hide his shivering.
“It’s not that cold,” Jaskier whispered, though he leaned into the touch and rested his head on Eskel’s shoulder anyways.
“And I’m the king of Redania,” Eskel teased. He pressed a kiss to the top of Jaskier’s head before pulling away. It was clear Jaskier wasn’t in any mood to return back to the keep any time soon, and Eskel couldn’t just leave him out here alone. “Let me get a fire going.”
“Okay,” Jaskier relented, his eyes soft as he smiled up at Eskel. Eskel couldn’t resist leaning down for one last kiss to Jaskier’s head before he went about gathering up good wood to make a fire with. It wasn’t that hard to find enough, with the various forktails, bears, and wolves that wandered around there was plenty of downed trees and branches for him to gather up. Soon he had an armful of firewood and deposited it a few feet away from the log where Jaskier still sat. Then it was just a quick Igni and a fire was started.
“There,” he said, feeling satisfied with himself. He sat back down next to Jaskier and wrapped an arm around him once more. Jaskier set his empty mug aside so he could wrap Eskel’s free hand in both of his own. Even with age, Jaskier’s hands still looked slight and young next to Eskel’s weathered, scarred hands. The firelight cast sharp shadows over their hands, over the wrinkles that painted their skin. Eskel absentmindedly traced over one on Jaskier’s hand with his thumb.
“I know,” Jaskier whispered, staring down at where their hands met. “I’m getting old.”
“You’re getting beautiful,” Eskel whispered back with a squeeze to Jaskier’s hands. “You always have been. But I don’t think I’ve seen anyone age nearly as elegantly as you.”
“Mm.” He could feel the curve of Jaskier’s smile against his shoulder. “I’m getting gray and wrinkly. Like an old mushroom. Soon you’ll have to toss me out into the scraps heap for the birds.”
“Mushrooms have many uses and are in fact very important to the environment,” Eskel pointed out. He rubbed Jaskier’s shoulder in small circles. “Besides, you’ve still got a lot of life left in you. You know what else mushrooms are known for? Being incredibly stubborn and hard to kill.”
Jaskier laughed softly at that. “I know. But— you’ve got so much life still in you. I saw you training today. You’re just as graceful as you were twenty years ago.”
“And you’re even more graceful than you were twenty years ago,” Eskel pointed out. He grinned. “Better at flirting.”
Jaskier huffed and elbowed him gently. “Can you really blame me? How else was I supposed to greet the most handsome man in my life after he just cut the head of a ghoul clean off of its nasty shoulders?”
“I don’t know, perhaps ‘thank you for saving my life’?” Eskel snorted. “Not ‘I like your eyes’.”
Jaskier laughed. “I seem to remember I thanked you very thoroughly for saving my life.”
“You did.” Eskel tilted his head up to stare at the stars, his hand still rubbing idle circles into Jaskier’s shoulder.
The silence stretched between them, despite the crackling of the fire and the skittering of small animals in the underbrush that Eskel could hear. He knew it wasn’t the end of this conversation, far from it in fact, but his tongue felt tied. He was content to just bask in the silence for a little longer, and Jaskier seemed to feel the same.
He got up a couple times to add more wood to the fire and add another small blast of Igni to keep it hot enough to keep Jaskier warm. Eskel knew the bard got colder easier these days, yet tried to hide it. He complained of the cold still, but not as much as he had when the cold barely made him shiver. Now he was trying his best to hide his shivers, and act like he could sit outside in the middle of the night in winter and feel fine.
“You’ve lived twice as long as I have, and then some,” Jaskier murmured. “And you haven’t aged a day since I met you.”
“Not true. I have gray hairs,” Eskel pointed out.
“How could I forget your bemoaning and whining when you found the first one?” Jaskier teased. “All that crying over how you were going to look old like Geralt. Meanwhile I’m almost halfway there.”
Eskel brushed his fingers through Jaskier’s hair. It was true, his hair was speckled with gray now, turned glimmering silver in the dim firelight. “It’s beautiful on you.”
Jaskier hummed and moved to face more towards Eskel, his own fingers brushing Eskel’s hair back. “I wish I could live long enough to see you go entirely gray. I bet you’d be gorgeous.”
“I wish I could live that long too,” Eskel joked, a small grin on his face.
The remark pulled a huff from his lover, who swatted at his chest weakly. “You will. You’re the best witcher I know, you’re always so careful and well prepared.”
“One day I won’t be,” Eskel pointed out. “That day could even be tomorrow.” It wouldn’t be, not if he had anything to say about it, but the cruel reality that he didn’t have any say in when he died was still a heavy weight on his mind. The idea of seeing Jaskier die broke his heart, but the idea of leaving Jaskier alone to live out the rest of his days without him brought even more grief.
He wondered if Jaskier would ever smile again, much less sing, if he went first. He had seen the terror on Jaskier’s face, the way he went days with minimal sleep when Eskel was teetering on the edge with a slash across the stomach from a wyvern. He had neglected his own wellbeing, even forgoing food and water unless strictly necessary, to make sure Eskel had everything he needed to heal quickly. He hoped Jaskier wouldn't ignore his own needs if Eskel was gone for good, if there was no hope of him coming back from that edge.
“No, not yet,” Jaskier murmured, his hand tracing down Eskel’s cheek and along his jaw. “Doesn’t feel like your time yet.”
Eskel couldn’t help but smile at that. Jaskier was always so sure of how things were, how they were going to play out. He wished he had the same confidence. “Don’t tell me it feels like your time.”
“No, not yet for me either. But I’ve been thinking about it,” Jaskier replied. “I’m sure we’ll have many more years together before one of us dies somehow. Or maybe we’ll die at the same time, entwined forever even in death.”
“Romantic,” Eskel mused.
“Mm, very. Perhaps I’ll even write it into a ballad.” One of Jaskier’s hands slipped into Eskel’s to intertwine their fingers as he turned back towards the fire, and they both gazed up at the spattering of stars across the canvas of the night sky. “One that would make everyone grow misty-eyed and wish they had the deep, soulful love that we share.”
“I didn’t realize we had a soulful love.”
Jaskier snickered and squeezed Eskel’s hand. “We do. One that every young maiden dreams of having one day. The kind that sweeps you off of your feet and makes your heart soar with the birds. I’ll write a ballad about it that will bring everyone to tears and make them grip their loved ones close.”
That made something in Eskel’s chest warm, and he rested his head against Jaskier’s. “It’s been a while since you’ve written a new ballad.”
“I know,” Jaskier whispered.
“I was worried I’d lost my favorite bard to stuffy literature and poetry.”
“I know.”
Eskel frowned and squeezed Jaskier’s hand. “I’m not trying to make you feel bad for it. I know your inspiration is strange.”
Jaskier smiled against his shoulder. “It’s been too long since I’ve written a new song, you’re right. Being a professor and spending so much time teaching others how to write songs and analyze music and how to play this or that instrument…it’s sucked the creativity out of me.”
Eskel pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s silvered crown. “I’m glad you came with me to Kaer Morhen this year.”
“It might be my last,” Jaskier admitted. “I don’t know how many more times I’ll be able to handle the cold, and the long trip up here.”
“Well, Oxenfurt’s not that bad in the winter,” Eskel admitted. “I don’t mind if every winter has to be spent there instead.”
Jaskier fell silent beside him, and the grip on his hand loosened. Eskel could hear him swallow a couple times before he finally took a breath, as if to say something, but sighed it out instead. “Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?” Eskel asked, turning to face him once again.
“I— wanted to tell you,” Jaskier mumbled, pointedly avoiding his gaze, “I might not be able to accompany you around the Continent anymore. At all. I’m— I can’t travel that much anymore. My bones are getting weary, I need somewhere safe and comfortable to rest my head at night. I’ve been offered a permanent, year-round position at Oxenfurt, with free lodging and everything, as long as I teach.”
“That’s wonderful,” Eskel breathed. Such an offer was unheard of, he knew. When Jaskier got his first offer to teach for the winter, Eskel had thought then that he meant for good. That they would no longer keep each other company while Eskel traveled along on the Path. Jaskier had laughed him off and assured him that no, only the old and crotchety men who were the best of the best in their prime got permanent teaching positions at Oxenfurt, which Jaskier most certainly was not at the time. Yet here he was now, silver in his hair and wrinkles framing bright blue eyes that now held a deep sadness to them.
“I can’t accompany you anymore around the entire Continent, don’t you see?” Jaskier asked, the gleam of tears catching in the firelight. “I— I can’t keep up with you anymore.”
“I’ll stay in Oxenfurt with you. Someone has to make sure nothing interrupts your classes,” Eskel assured him. He managed a grin. “Besides, you’ve got it backwards. I can’t keep up with you anymore. You’re moving up in the world. Becoming one of those old-fashioned, crotchety old men you hated so much. Here I am still doing the same thing as I always have.”
Jaskier pulled away, his mouth agape and his eyes wide for a moment before he broke into a grin. “Did you just call me crotchety?!”
“Maybe.”
“Why you—! I am still a treasure, thank you very much.”
“My treasure,” Eskel cooed, leaning in for a kiss, but Jaskier pushed him away with a comical pout.
“Oh no! You do not get to act all sweet and loving as if it’s going to make me forget this insolence, this— the sheer audacity you have to call me crotchety!” Jaskier rambled, jabbing a finger into Eskel’s chest. He gave a small ‘hmph’ when Eskel leaned in again and pressed a kiss to the corner of Jaskier’s mouth.
“You are a little crotchety,” Eskel pointed out. “You were ranting to me last week about these stupid young bards who think they can just stick some words together and call it a song. No moral, no epic battle, no inspired emotions, just words and noise for the sake of words and noise.”
“And I fully stand by that,” Jaskier huffed. “Which is why they need me so badly at Oxenfurt. Someone has to teach them about the importance of a good story setup, climax, and resolution. And stanzas and rhyming schemes, good gods none of them understand structure.”
“You’re only proving my point.”
“I know.” Jaskier sighed and looked at Eskel with a warm smile. “And now the students don’t want to listen to me because I’m an old crotchety man who’s a has-been and still thinks he’s important.”
“You are important, and you are not a has-been,” Eskel insisted. He wrapped Jaskier’s hands in both of his own, for support and to keep him warm. He knew how quickly Jaskier’s fingers could get sore and stiff in the cold after years of playing the lute and writing. “Not yet.”
Jaskier smiled at him, those tears gathering in the corners of his eyes once more, against the wrinkles that deepened with every winter that passed. “Not yet,” he vowed in agreement. A vow that was sealed with a kiss, gentler than the winter breeze that brushed across them and made them find warmth and comfort in one another, as they had for so many years already.