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Jaskier laid awake in his bed in Kaer Morhen, wondering why Geralt has yet to approach him about Fire Fucker. Surely Yennefer told him already, the witch never knew how to keep her nose out of other people’s business. Jaskier laid fully dressed on top of his blankets and bedding, stretched flat on his back across the mattress. His arms were crossed against his arms as he stared up at the ceiling, carefully counting the cracks and finding the patterns in the aged foundation of the Witcher’s Keep. Perhaps, a traitorous thought whispered in Jaskier’s mind, perhaps Geralt hasn’t talked to you about it because he doesn’t care. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, trying to discard the intrusive thoughts plaguing his mind. Recently they seemed to take a liking to teasing Jaskier about Geralt and Yennefer. “They’re better off without me,” Jaskier whispered out loud. His breath turned into fog in the chill of the winter air.
Why would a world famous Witcher and terrifyingly beautiful sorceress care for the likes of a simple bard?
With his mind made up Jaskier peeled himself away from the cold sheets in his cold room. He could easily light a flame for the lanterns but the mere thought of dancing flames made him shudder. Jaskier pulled on his red leather jacket and zipped it up in the front. There was still time to make it down the mountain before the storm hit. Half of the surviving witchers have been preparing firewood and stocking venison for the past few days, not paying Jaskier any mind. The other half have been painstakingly focused on patching the damages done by The Deathless Mother, and Ciri? Well… if he was being honest Jaskier hasn’t kept track on the Child Surprise. She was probably finding value and education with Yennefer. Jaskier had enough common sense to cast a few simple healing spells and such thanks to the elves he stayed with but didn’t know much about Chaos.
Jaskier grabbed his lute and carefully laid it to temporary rest in the hard case Yennefer bought him as a gift. He attached the latches and locked it away then adjusted the strap and pulled it over his shoulder. Jaskier welcomed the familiar weight of his beloved instrument against his back. He often complained about back pains and the like but he’d rather cease to exist than let anyone else carry his soul. “Right then,” Jaskier mumbled. He threw a few bits and bobs of clothing into a rucksack he found in the wardrobe. If he was being honest, he didn’t really know what he grabbed. He just took anything that seemed warm and heavy - a spare fur cape. Because of course witchers would have spare fur capes lying around gathering mothballs. When he was finished packing he pulled the bag closed using the leather straps cinched at the top.
A cold breeze blew through the hole in the wall and Jaskier shuddered. He shouldered the bag then topped it all off with the warm cape. For half a second he entertained the dream of staying for the winter. He let himself imagine a life made up of daydreams and false realities. Jaskier thought of Geralt’s arms wrapped around him, keeping him warm. He thought of Yennefer’s fingers, carefully combing through his hair post bath. Jaskier fooled himself into thinking of their words, warming his mind and his heart as they reassured him of their love.
The love they only had for each other.
Not him.
Jaskier remembered himself and then steadied his mind. He would be no help to himself wasting a way daydreaming while facing down a freezing storm. Jaskier closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He slid into his boots then left his room, creeping along the shadowed hallway. “Jaskier, where are you going?” A small voice asked when he rounded the corner. Jaskier hissed a cuss under his breath and turned to see the young Cirilla, dressed in her night clothes holding a stuffed teddy bear.
“I’m just going for a walk darling girl,” Jaskier said. His heart ached when he lied to her. He was never good at goodbyes, and there’s no telling if Cirilla would go running to Yennefer if she found out his true path for the night. Cirilla looked at Jaskier and put a hand on her hip. She’s definitely been taking judgmental glare lessons from Geralt and Vesemir. “Go back to sleep Ciri.” Jaskier tried to continue on with his path - sneaking through the keep to one of the side doors… except Ciri insisted on following him.
“I can’t go to sleep,” Ciri said as she bounced along at Jaskier’s side. Jaskier let out a resigned sigh and ran his fingers through his hair. “I get nightmares almost every night.” Ciri fell quiet, still following Jaskier wherever he tried to escape her. “Jaskier?” Ciri asked as she walked next to him. Her arms swung at her side as she continued to insist on pestering him along his night walk.
“Yes Ciri?” Jaskier asked. He looked to the ceiling praying to Mitelte for Ciri to go back to her room. Ciri dashed in front of him and stood directly in his path. Jaskier stopped walking and crossed his arms against his chest. “Cirilla, move out of my way.” Jaskier tried to look threatening but all it did was make the princess more insistent. She mimicked his pose, glaring up at him.
“You can’t leave,” Ciri said. She stomped her foot in front of her for emphasis. “Geralt would be upset and Yennefer -” Ciri stopped herself. She took a deep breath and rolled her shoulders back. “As the princess of Cintra I order you to stay. Otherwise I’ll sic my wolves after you.” Jaskier looked down at Ciri with a saddened smile on his face. “Who will teach me music if you leave?” Ciri asked almost tauntingly. Jaskier sighed deeply as he knelt down and placed a hand on Ciri’s shoulder.
“You are awfully annoying for a princess,” Jaskier teased. A small smile curled on the corners of Ciri’s lips. “But Geralt and Yennefer don’t want me here,” Jaskier said. The frown returned tenfold, Ciri’s bottom lip jutted out in a full pout. “Listen to me Ciri,” Jaskier adjusted her nightshirt for her, straightening out the collar. “You don’t need music,” Jaskier said. Ciri opened her mouth to protest but Jaskier held up a finger, stopping her before she spoke. “Music won’t help you control chaos, and music won’t help you wield swords made of silver and steel.” Jaskier squeezed Ciri’s shoulder, trying to ignore the tears that were starting to roll down her face. “You need more skills than what I can teach you. You need better ones. Singing and dancing in bars is no life for a queen like yourself.”
“You’ve survived for over twenty years with singing and dancing!” Ciri protested. Jaskier was taken aback at how upset she was. Music wasn’t nearly as cool as magic and sword fighting. “I want to learn music. How can I learn music if you’re dead halfway down a mountainside?” Ciri asked. Her sniffles filled the silence between them, echoing down the vast hallway. Jaskier squeezed Ciri’s shoulder reassuringly then stood up.
“Speaking of which, I must make my leave before the storm hits.” Jaskier patted Ciri’s head and nudged her over. He slid past her and made his way to the door only to run into a very solid and sturdy chest. Chest? Jaskier opened his eyes and was met with a white tunic. Yes, a chest was blocking Jaskier’s way. “Get out of my way Geralt,” Jaskier said. He tried to shoulder past the witcher but Geralt reached out and pulled Jaskier back just as he reached for the doorknob.
“No,” Geralt said, as if it was as simple as that. Jaskier stumbled backwards a few feet to where Geralt pulled him. Geralt took the opportunity to slide between Jaskier and the door. When Jaskier regained his bearings he looked at Geralt with a tired expression on his face.
“Just let me go Geralt,” Jaskier pushed weakly against Geralt’s chest. He could already feel the cold from the weather. It was positively freezing, the storm swirled against the walls. “Geralt, please don’t be mean about it this time. Let me go, I won’t cause a fuss.” Jaskier looked at Geralt pleadingly. Geralt studied Jaskier then shook his head and carefully tugged Jaskier into his chest. Jaskier froze for half a second, his mind quickly processing what was happening. Geralt’s arms wrapped around Jaskier, holding him close. Jaskier sniffled and felt his eyes tear up with tears threatening to spill.
“No,” Geralt repeated. He bent low and pressed his nose into Jaskier’s shoulder. He nuzzled into the nape of Jaskier’s neck, warming the cold muscle. “You’re cold,” Geralt said. His voice was near void of emotion but Jaskier spoke fluent Geralt at this point. He could hear the concern in Geralt’s voice clear as day. Jaskier tried to look around to find Ciri but the princess was nowhere to be found. He frowned slightly then got distracted when Geralt kissed the top of Jaskier’s head. Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut then wrapped his arms around Geralt, returning the hug. His fists clenched tightly to the shirt on Geralt’s back. Jaskier sniffled and felt himself just… let go. He cried and sobbed while his body shook against Geralt’s.
“Oh bard,” Yenenfer appeared behind him. She snaked her arms between Jaskier and Geralt, hugging him from behind. Jaskier shivered in their arms, fully feeling the effects of the cold he was barely exposed to. “You foolish minstrel,” Yennefer scolded. It was a lighthearted jab, a weak attempt to get Jaskier to smile. Maybe it made him even more of a fool but Jaskier took a deep breath and smiled into Geralt’s shoulder. “Ciri told me everything she knew,” Yennefer explained. She nuzzled her nose into Geralt’s hair, planting her own kiss right over Geralt’s. “Come, let’s warm you up,” Yennefer said. She kept her voice soft and warm, it was something for Jaskier to focus on.
“I’m afraid if you wish to bed me Yennefer, you’ll have to wait for me to thaw out,” Jaskier said with a halfhearted cocky smile. He let Yennefer pull him away from Geralt. Yennefer adjusted the cape around Jaskier’s shoulder to help keep him warm.
“Tell me Jaskier, what were you thinking?” Yennefer asked. An arm wrapped around Jaskier’s waist as he stumbled along at Yennefer’s side. Jaskier fell quiet and stared at the brick laid floor beneath their feet. “Jaskier,” Yennefer said softly, trying to prompt an answer.
“He said he couldn’t teach me anything of value so he’s leaving,” Ciri piped up, suddenly appearing at Yennefer’s side again. Yennefer sighed and squeezed Jaskier with her arm. He leaned into her, using her for most of his support.
“Is that really what you were thinking?” Yennefer asked quietly. Jaskier was silent for a solid ten minutes. Just the sound of their footsteps echoed down the hallway. Geralt’s were the lightest, dancing behind them as he avoided making loud movements.
“No,” Jaskier admitted. They got to a bedroom that wasn’t his. Jaskier frowned and almost said something but Yennefer shook her head at him. She reached down to squeeze his hand reassuringly. “I don’t want to intrude, I'll just -” Geralt looked at Jaskier over Yennefer’s shoulder, a stern expression on his face. “Okay,” Jaskier said. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then followed Yennefer into her and Geralt’s bedroom.
When he opened his eyes the first thing he saw was Geralt gathering the warmest blankets and clothes. The Witcher piled everything up on the bed, apparently making Jaskier a mountain to sleep on. Yennefer was warming Jaskier a bath with boiling water from the fireplace. Jaskier froze when he saw the flames dancing along the coals. He lost himself in the fire, his mind haunting him with the pain in his fingertips. Jaskier whimpered and hid his hands inside his cape, tightening it around himself. “What is it?” Geralt asked from the bed. Jaskier’s eyes flickered between Geralt and Yennefer, trying to read the situation.
“Oh, yes of course,” Yennefer said with an understanding nod. Her face turned to one of pity. Jaskier hated it. Yennefer reached out and gently took Jaskier’s hand into her own. “Take off your lute and your bag Jask,” Yennefer used her other hand to comb through Jaskier’s hair. “I promise you’re safe here. Have I ever lied to you?” Jaskier shot her a look.
“Yes,” Jaskier said. Yennefer laughed weakly and gently tugged at the roots of Jaskier’s hair. “You’ve lied to me a lot of times before I think.”
“Alright but would I ever lie about this?” Yennefer asked. Jaskier was well aware of Geralt’s intense stare from the bed. Yennefer rolled her eyes and gently cupped Jaskier’s face. “Ignore Geralt. He’s still emotionally incompetent.”
“Isn’t he always?” Jaskier asked, unable to keep the fond smile from forming on his face. Geralt let out a low grumble of protest but they both ignored him. Jaskier let Yennefer peel off his clothes to his underwear, preparing him for the bath. When Jaskier’s feet dipped into the freshly heated water he let out a satisfied sigh. Jaskier sank into the tub and let his arms hang over the side of the walls. Yennefer let out a soft gasp when Jaskier accidentally exposed his fingertips.
“Jaskier, why didn’t you say anything to us?” Yennefer asked. She carefully took Jaskier’s shaking fingers and interlocked their fingers together. “I - I’m sorry,” Yennefer said quietly. Jaskier looked at her, unable to keep the surprise from showing on his face. Jaskier swallowed thickly and stared at their hands, resting in the water.
“Yes well, sorry isn’t going to do me much good is it?” Jaskier sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. He glanced at Geralt, who was studying them from the edge of the bed with a frown on his face. Geralt leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. Jaskier shifted in the bath, self consciously turning away from the Witcher. He drew his injured hand to his chest, concealing the burnt skin. Geralt stood up and crossed the distance between them in a few short strides. He knelt at the side of the bathtub and carefully took Jaskier’s hand into his.
Jaskier didn’t know what he expected, but he definitely did not expect to hear Geralt apologize. “What happened to your fingers Jaskier?” Geralt asked softly. It was the quietest he’s ever heard Geralt talk, the most understanding the most… saddened. Jaskier let Geralt hold his fingers. Trying to stretch them out to their full potential made Jasier let out a hiss of pain so Geralt just let his fingers curl up in his palm. “Jaskier…” Geralt gently ran his index finger along Jaskier’s burnt fingertips. “You aren’t only worth music to us,” Geralt said. Jaskier hummed and pulled his hand away from Geralt. He glanced at Yennefer, who only nodded in agreement with Geralt.
“You are worth so much more to us than just your music,” Yennefer promised. She gently scratched at Jaskier’s scalp, making his eyes flutter at the touch. “Just like me being more than my chaos.” Yennefer kissed the side of Jaskier’s head and nuzzled her nose into it. “If Destiny decides to forge us a new path together -”
“- then together we’ll walk it,” Jaskier said with a nod. He looked between Geralt and Yennefer, smiling slightly. “Perhaps I’ll teach Ciri to play the lute to go along with my singing,” Jaskier teased. Geralt grumbled but didn’t say anything against it. As Yennefer finished washing Jaskier up he found he felt a lot better than an hour ago. There’s something to be said about being with people you love.