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Jaskier, despite the years he had spent at Kaer Morhen, had never really gotten used to the cold winters. He spent most of his days bundled up in layers of furs with a fire going, or normally latched onto Geralt to siphon body heat. There had also been a few days that he found himself outside with Ciri, the girl making snowmen or starting a snowball fight with everyone that crossed her path.
He didn’t mind the cold or the snow, but Kaer Morhen just seemed like it had so much more of it. Even the closest town didn’t get nearly as much.
“We’re on a mountain Jaskier, of course there’s be more snow.”
Yennefer’s taunting laugh echoed in his head. He knew the physics of it, but somehow they never factored with each other.
The other thing Jaskier noticed with the winter and snowy months was the amount of offerings. There always seemed to be more during the cold season, which didn’t make sense to him.
“People die when they don’t have enough to keep them warm.”
“Well yes, but why give over their things instead of keeping it? It seems even more dooming in that sense.”
No one had an answer for him that time. So he decided to get an answer himself.
He was always down at the gates, despite rain or snow falling, asking the people why they gave in the winter, a time when regular humans needed the food or clothes more than anyone in the keep did.
“It’s— it’s just how it’s been, my lord. Always more in the fall and winter months so—”
“Not anymore it’s not.”
Eskel had snorted the first few times Jaskier had told the town’s folk to stop bringing offerings in the winter when they didn’t need them. He even tried to tell them to stop all together because the whole thing was ridiculous.
“My lord, we can’t stop the offerings. It’s unheard of.”
“Jask, this is how they want to show that they’re loyal to the wolf. I understand your wanting to help, but doing this makes them feel safe.”
It had gone on like that for weeks; every caravan that made it up the mountain, every person Jaskier talked to. None of them wanted to stop giving. He knew it was out of fear of what would happen if they did, which was ridiculous because nothing would happen. Geralt wouldn’t go raiding a tiny town because they didn’t bring up three bags of grain.
But no one outside of the keep knew, nor believed it wouldn’t happen.
So Jaskier merely made everyone promise to not bring extra during the winter, or better yet, not traverse the side of a mountain in the middle of winter at all.
Geralt had nothing to say when Jaskier brought it up the first time, and had happily agreed that yes, people should stop traversing the mountain in winter. Apparently it never occurred to someone that actually received the offerings to tell that they weren’t necessary. That or whoever brought them ran back too fast to be told.
Either way, they both noticed that offerings had stopped coming in winter.
***
“Look at how much snow there is!” Ciri laughed as she ran into the courtyard. “And it’s still snowing!”
“Well we practically went through a blizzard and a half the last three days.” Jaskier pulled his coat tighter. “I’d be surprised if we had anything less.”
“It’s so deep right here! Watch! Tell me if I fully disappear!”
Jaskier had to hold on a snort as Ciri went face first into the snow, laying flat on her stomach. To her defense, he couldn’t see her, but it wasn’t because the snow was too deep, but the white furs on her made for perfect camouflage.
“Oh dear, it seems that I’ve lost the Warlord’s cub. I hope I can find her before anyone else finds out.” He could hear Ciri giggling as he walked. “I turned my back for just a moment, and poof, she’s gone. Maybe she’s hiding in the snow.” He watched as people walked by, smiling and rolling eyes at their antics. “Alas, I cannot find her. I might as well just fall down and die.” To that, he flopped down just as Ciri did, right next to her. “My heart is full of woe. Such a sweet child, lost and alone in this cruel world. I only hope I am burdened with such a fate as her so I might know the pain I have caused.”
He could feel eyes on him. He peeked out of the snow to see several people watching, brows raised in curiosity. Jaskier merely winked.
“I only wish I could have gazed upon her beauty one last time, for no one was more fare than her, for she, the most stealthy, radiant, adorable—”
“I hate to interrupt.” Eskel was standing just to the side of both of them.
“Uncle Eskel! He was just getting to the complements!” Ciri raised her head and pouted.
“Sorry cub. I’m sure he won’t deprive you of any that have been lost today.” He turned to Jaskier. “You’re needed by the gates.” He pulled the bard up. “We saw a rider closing in. You’re the only one that can seem to get through to people.”
“You’re not telling me we have someone bringing an offering right after a snowstorm.” Jaskier brushed off his coat. “I can’t believe people. Honestly, what’s the point of bringing an offering so you won’t be killed by the Warlord if you’re just going to get killed on the way up the mountain?” He reached into the snow and pulled Ciri up. “I’ll finish complementing your radiating beauty after I take care of this.”
“Maybe we can do it inside by a fire.” She breathed into her hands. “Papa said that regular humans get sick easier in the cold, and I don’t want you to get sick and lose your voice.”
“Aren’t you just a darling?”
“You won’t be able to complement me if you do.”
Eskel snorted.
“My dear, if I had been born mute, I would definitely find a way to speak of your beauty to the world.”
***
“How many years has it been?”
“At least three I think. Why has someone suddenly decided they needed to offer?”
“Can’t even say that’s what it is.” Jaskier sent Eskel a questioning glance. “Single rider on a horse, another carrying bags. Might be someone seeking sanctuary, or just a crazy bastard trying to offer. Either way, we figured you’re the least threatening presence with the most experience in these types of things.”
Jaskier merely nodded. He’s been the one to meet people at the gate for offerings, or if someone wanted to pledge service. Everyone agreed he had a calming air about him.
The day when he arrived was tucked away in his mind. He still remembered how terrified he was when he was passed off to them like he was nothing more than a sacrificial lamb. He didn’t want others to feel that, and he wanted to erase the stigma that had wrapped around Geralt.
They waited at the open gates. Jaskier hopes it would take no more than a few minutes to convince whoever was riding up that no offerings were necessary, especially during a snowstorm, because lying in the snow for several minutes did actually chill him every much.
Eskel spoke when the horses finally reached them. “State your name and why you’ve come.”
The rider stayed silent, face and all features covered by a cloak that didn’t look heavy enough for the snow.
Jaskier had a slight frown. The rider seemed awfully small. “I regret to inform you that offerings are not necessary, one’s right after a harsh storm especially.” The rider’s head moved, indicating they were listening to him. “You need not put your life in danger to trudge up this mountain. You’re welcome to stay the night and rest up until tomorrow.”
“Julian?”
Jaskier’s heart felt like it stopped.
The rider removed their hood to show a girl; dirtied face, chestnut hair, red nose from the cold, features too pale for comfort, and eyes welling with tears.
“Emma?” Jaskier stepped forward. “By gods, Emma!”
Emma started crying, pulling back the cloak to reveal another small body. “I can’t wake him up.”
Jaskier was certain his heart had stopped when he saw the boy that was nestled in a cloak, face paler than Emma’s. “David—!”
“He fell asleep last night and I can’t get him to wake up.” Emma sobbed as Jaskier took the boy from her. “I tried to keep him awake Julian, I swear! I didn’t know where else to go after father— and Miss Sarah said she’d heard—”
Her sobs were lost on Jaskier’s ears, a mere noise in the background as he stripped his heavy fur off himself and wrapped it around the boy in his arms. “Eskel—”
“I’ve got him, lark.” Eskel had gently taken the boy from his arms and rushed through the gate and to the keep.
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry I didn’t try hard enough! I should have known not to but—”
Jaskier stood and gently quieted her. “It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s not your fault. Come on, let’s get you inside.”
“I swear on my life I’ll pledge service! Please don’t make us go back…”
“None of that.” His voice was firm as he helped her from the horse, keeping her in his arms. “I don’t want to hear it, not from you. You’re safe here. I promise you.”
He kept whispering reassuring words as he walked through the keep, ignoring any stares he got, only gesturing to someone about the two horses out front. His words were near whispers, and Emma’s sobs quieter than that, but he knew that all the Witchers around him had heard everything that was being said.
***
“I want him dead. Fuck any political stance that could be taken. I want him dead, and if I have to do it by my own hands then I will.”
Geralt had never thought he would see Jaskier in a blind rage. “My lark.”
“Do I have a sword? I think I need a sword. Better yet, I think I need a sword which Yennefer has enchanted. Can I have an enchanted silver sword that shoots fire when I swing it?”
“Jaskier.”
“No! It was one thing when it was me, but it’s—” Jaskier took a breath, trying not to cry. “They’re children Geralt. They’re— he sent my little brother and sister— it’s the middle of fucking winter! There’s no fucking reason why two children younger than thirteen would be traversing up a fucking mountain after a fucking snowstorm in the middle of fucking winter!”
Geralt pulled Jaskier into a hug, rubbing circles in his back. “I know. There’s nothing that could be said to justify the actions. We’ll get the story once they wake, figure out what happened, then we’ll go kill him.”
“I knew he was a monster but…”
“We’ll settle it, I swear to you, but you need to rest.” Geralt placed a hand on Jaskier’s face, thumbing away tears. “You haven’t sat down since they arrived. Yenn and Triss are doing everything they can to help and they said with lots of warm food and rest, they’d be fine.”
Jaskier sighed and nodded. “I never believed… I know my father couldn’t wait to get rid of me, but my younger siblings…”
“I know. Come, you need to be well rested for when they wake.”
***
It was warm; warm and comfortable as Emma opened her eyes. She was in a large bed with blankets and furs piled on her. To her left, her younger brother, sleeping peacefully as far as she could tell, equally as covered.
She didn’t recognize the room, and nearly panicked at the lady sitting in a chair by the fire with a book.
The lady’s eyes flicked up at the movement. She smiled and placed her book on a small table. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
Emma coughed slightly. “I’m fine, my lady.”
“There’s no need for formalities with me.” She moved from her chair by the fire to one closer to the bed and poured a cup of water. “My name is Triss Marigold. You’ve been asleep for two days, we were afraid we got to you too late.”
“What of my brother?”
“He woke slightly yesterday. Not nearly as coherent as you, but enough to eat a bit. You should both make a full recovery as long as you stay in bed.”
“Where— are we?”
“You’re in Kaer Morhen, home of the Warlord of the North, the White Wolf.” Triss stopped a laugh. “I give you my word, as long as you both are here, no harm shall come to you.”
She thought she was just delirious. Never did she think they actually reach the keep.
“There’s someone that wished to see you as soon as you woke. Are you up for having visitors?”
Emma hesitated before nodding very slightly.
“Alright. I’ll go fetch him, and I’ll also get you something simple to eat. You’ll need to regain your strength if you ever want to leave that bed.”
She barely registered Triss’s words as she left the room. She has made it to Kaer Morhen, home of the White Wolf. What was she thinking in venturing there? What use would a warlord have for a nine year old boy and thirteen year old girl? Triss had said no harm would come to them while they were there, but what about after they were well? Surely they’d be thrown out.
She looked to David; he was balled up under the blankets and furs, the pile slightly rising and falling with each breath. Maybe she could convince them to let him stay. He was a child. She was only a few years away from adulthood. She could make do until then, but she knew she could care for her little brother as well.
The door opened suddenly and Emma held in a startled yell. A man stood in the door, short brown hair, light blue eyes, a smile that had slowly made its way across his entire face. She knew that man, he was the reason they traveled up the mountain.
“Julian?”
“Emma.” Julian made his way into the room and to her side of the bed. “How are you feeling?” Emma just stared at him for a moment before she started crying. “Hey, hey, what’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere?”
She nearly fell from the bed as she reached for him, wrapping her arms around him and sobbing into his coat. “I thought it was a dream.”
“No, I’m here. You’re safe here.”
“Miss— Miss Sarah said you were here and you were happy. I couldn’t think of anywhere else to go… I was so scared she was lying, but she’s never lied to me before, so I took a chance…”
Julian kissed the top of her head. “That was very brave of you. And you took care of your little brother through the harsh journey.”
“I couldn’t leave him, not there, not after what happened.”
Julian didn’t ask any question, only continuing to console his sister by whispering how proud he was and how brave she had been. He didn’t release his hold on her until Triss entered the room.
“I’ve brought venison stew. It’ll warm and help you get your strength back.”
Emma wiped her face and gingerly took the bowl from her. “Thank you, my lady.”
“Just Triss is fine.” She calmly reminded her, retaking her seat by the fireplace. “You had us worried. You both were showing symptoms of hypothermia, your brother also showing pneumonia. It was good you got to us when you did. Jaskier refused to leave your sides until you were left with mild fevers, and even then Geralt had to drag him away to make him rest.”
“I hardly see how that’s relevant.” Julian muttered. “Nothing wrong with being concerned.”
“Your mood practically effects everyone here. This is the first day that it feels like the keep has taken a breath.”
“Who’s— Geralt?” Emma asked.
“You know him by his title; Geralt is the Warlord of the North, the feared White Wolf.”
“He’s a big softy.” Julian added, rolling his eyes at Triss’s statement. “He’s looks big and scary but it’s all a façade.”
Emma stared into the stew in her lap. “Will I have to meet him?”
“Well, its generally customary to greet your host if you’ll be staying. But we don’t have to do it until you’re all better.”
“So… it’s not true that he eats children?”
Triss held in a laugh. “Apparently there are new rumors going around. No sweetheart, he doesn’t eat children. I don’t think he would have a daughter if he did.”
“He has a daughter?”
“He does.” Julian answered. “She’s your age. I think you two would get along splendidly.”
***
It was another four days before Emma and David were deemed in perfect health. They had met a few people in that time, mainly the staff bringing them food or clothes.
They’d met Ciri, the White Wolf’s daughter, when she unexpectedly brought them food one day. It was a pleasant surprise for Emma. Another girl her age that didn’t have the feel of a noble. She told them about a lot of people there; Aunt Yennefer, the most powerful sorceress in the land, Uncle Eskel and Uncle Lambert who were the best fighters in the land besides papa, Grandpa Vesimer who trained all the Witchers, and a few others that had already been forgotten.
Then she talked about papa, and nothing Emma heard was anything she expected to hear about the great Warlord of the North.
“Papa let’s me practice braiding on his hair when he’s not busy with his political work. Once I did it so perfect he let me put flowers in it and it stayed for a few days.”
“One time I found an injured bird and papa showed me how to care for it until it was well enough to be on its own again.”
“Papa let’s me stay up with the adults sometimes to hear Jas’s new song.”
“Papa also practices his braiding on me.”
Never would Emma have though that someone that was so feared, would allow a human girl to braid flowers into his hair. David wasn’t amused by any of it.
“Alotta people say papa’s scary, but he’s never been scary to me. You should come meet him to know it’s true.”
That’s what brought Emma and David into one of the main halls. Ciri had practically forced them from their room and dragged them throughout the keep until they were standing before the White Wolf himself.
“Papa! This is Emma and David. They wanted to meet you!”
Geralt looked at Ciri with a slight smirk. “Did they want to meet me, or did you drag them here before they were ready?”
Jaskier had rolled his eyes. “Well, better now than never.” He went to stand by his siblings’ side. “Emma, David, this is Geralt; Master of Kaer Morhen, Great Warlord of the North, Famed and Feared White Wolf.”
Geralt rested his head on his hand. “Must you introduce me like that to every new person here?”
“What? Those are your titles, I think you should use them. You don’t introduce yourself to others with more than your name and a huff.”
Emma curtsied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I thank you for sheltering us and treating mine and my brother’s illness. I have nothing to give for your kindness.”
Geralt let a small smile spread across his face. “You are an important person to my important person. You need not give anything.”
“But—”
“Geralt, wouldn’t you say Ciri could use another lady in waiting?” Jaskier said.
“Yes!” Ciri happily said, taking Emma’s hands. “Please Papa?”
“You ask me as if I have a choice when you’ve clearly made up your mind already.”
“Thank you Papa!” Ciri dragged Emma out of the hall.
“Maybe we should send Triss or Yenn to explain servitude later.” Jaskier snorted before turning to his little brother. “As for you…”
David had completely zoned out of the entire exchange, his focus solely on Coën across the room.
“I think I see who is favorite will be.”
“Go asking him about his eye.” David turned to Geralt when he realized he was being spoken to. “He loves telling the story to anyone that will listen.”
A smile plastered itself on David’s face as he ran across the hall and stopped in front his Coën, who fist seemed confused as to why a child was in front of him, but confusion turned into into outright glee as words were spoken to him.
Geralt turned from the sight to Jaskier, whose face was set in a sad smile. “They’re okay.”
“They are. Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a sorceress to see about a silver sword that shoots fireballs when I swing it.”