Archive of Our Own

The hall still has pine needles scattered here and there from being decorated for Kolijada. A recent change with the addition of Jaskier and Ciri to the winters at Kaer Morhen. Greenery had hung from the rafters and covered the mantel. There had even been a large pine tree in the corner. A roaring fire chases the chill from the room as the occupants chat the evening away.
Eskel flops down onto the bench next to Geralt, noticing the carved wooden figure that is usually in his brother’s hand if he isn’t working around the keep or training Ciri. “That doesn’t much look like Roach,” he motions to it. Geralt elbows him hard in the side and responds, “It’s fine. Actually Jaskier did a really good job.” Eskel rubs his side a bit and looks to where Jaskier is talking to Vesemir across the hall. Geralt’s gaze follows his to the pair, his amber eyes softening as he takes in Jaskier gesturing wildly as he tells some story.
Eskel chuckles, “Mittens for Kolijada.” “He needed a better pair,” says Geralt defensively. “A Kolijada gift to the one you love,” Geralt glares at Eskel but he continues unfazed, “should have special meaning to it.” He motions to the figure in Geralt’s hands, “like a carving in memory of a beloved horse. Practically shouldn’t figure into it. And what was that gift for his name day?” Geralt didn’t answer. “A blanket wasn’t it? Very sentimental that,” Eskel stated.
Despite being in the middle of a story, Jaskier had noticed Eskel and Geralt looking at him. Well he noticed when Geralt looked at him. He stops mid story and breaks away from Vesemir when he sees the glare Geralt sent his brother’s way. “Think about it,” Eskel says as he gets up to give Jaskier the seat next to Geralt and goes to talk to Coen. Jaskier flops down next to Geralt, who can’t help but think how adorable it is when he does that. The lean into his body is just what he needs to get him to relax as the conversation with Eskel had caused him to tense up a bit.
“If he wasn’t a witcher, you would have killed Eskel with that look. What did he say,” the bard inquires. “Nothing of importance,” growls Geralt. Jaskier just rolls his eyes and grabs the mulled wine in front of Geralt downing it in one go. “Jaskier are you...Do you miss…” he stumbles to a halt, not sure how to ask what he wants to know, or even if wants to know. “I’m I what?” Jaskier gives Geralt a little push with his shoulder.
Ciri picks that moment to sit down on the other side of the table. “Gwent anyone?” she asks happily waving her new deck. “Jaskier will play, I’m off to bed,” Geralt stands suddenly causing Jaskier to give a little squeak as he almost tips over without Geralt’s body to lean against. “Geralt wait…” but Geralt waves him to stay, “Never mind Jaskier, see you in our room. Ciri, we’ll be training early so don’t stay up to late. Night,” and quickly leaves. “I’ll go first,” Ciri states. Jaskier looks after Geralt for just a moment, before turning back to her. “You’re going down Princess” he playfully threatens pulling out his own deck.
Geralt makes it to their room and tries to meditate, but his thoughts are swirling through his mind. He thought the mittens would be a good gift because ever since Rience, Jaskier’s hands are more susceptible to the cold. The new blanket had been spelled by Yen to be as weather proof as possible. Fuck, Eskel was making him doubt himself. Yes, Jaskier needed both, but did Jaskier see them as more a practical gift? He had meant to show Jaskier that he loves him. That he sees how Jaskier’s hands still ache because he protected Ciri and him. The new blanket will make him more comfortable when they’re on the Path. That Geralt still wants, no needs him to continue travelling with him.
He gives up on meditating and, after quickly changing into a night shirt, climbs into bed. Laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he thinks of all that Jaskier does for him. From making his life easier on the Path and patching him up after a contract, to the gentle touches and tender words that show how much Jaskier cares for him. And, not that he would tell him, the songs he writes and sings about Geralt are one of his favorite ways Jaskier’s love shines through.
Geralt turns his head to look at Jaskier when he comes in, and watches him while he hurriedly changes and joins him under their blankets and furs. Jaskier shivers a bit and Geralt pulls him close to warm him up. They share a few tender kisses. “Everything all right, Dear Heart,” Jaskier asks. “Everything is fine, Jask. Did you beat Ciri?” Jaskier launches into a play by play retelling of the round of Gwent between Ciri and him. Geralt enjoys listening to Jaskier voice, giving a small chuckle at how Ciri beat him in the end. Jaskier lightly slaps his arm. “Don’t you laugh at me,” he says. Geralt catches his hand and brings it up to his mouth. “Never,” he replies before kissing the burn scars gently. Jaskier leans in and brushes his nose along Geralt’s before they softly kiss. “Good night, Jask,” Geralt whispers. One last tender kiss shared, and the two men snuggle in for a good night’s sleep. Well Jaskier sleeps; Geralt stays awake, thoughts still swirling in his brain while he cuddles his bard through the night.
Geralt slips out of bed, dresses, gives the top of Jaskier’s head a kiss, and goes to grab some food before he and Ciri start training. “Watch leaving your left side vulnerable after that turn. Again,” he tells her. Ciri takes her stance and goes through her moves again and again. Geralt helps her adjust an arm here, a leg there. At times he watches, at times they spar, and at times they move through motions together side by side. After a while he takes Ciri’s blade, “All right, take a run.” She goes off leaving Geralt staring at the spot where she disappeared from his view.
A punch to Geralt’s shoulder, startles him out of his thoughts. “Didn’t you hear me talking to you, Wolf. Damn good thing I’m not some beast bent on tearing out your throat, or you’d be dead,” Lambert gloats as he joins his brother. “I know there’s no way in hell you were lost in thought unless you’re thinking of the bard again. Are you making up an ode to his…”? Geralt smacks Lambert on the back of his head then starts walking away. “Knock it the fuck off!” Lambert yells, but Geralt is walking away. “Have Ciri come in for food when she gets back from her run. She’s due to train with Yen this afternoon.” “GERALT!” Lambert yells after him but is ignored.
Once he is almost to the library, Geralt stops and leans his forehead against the wall. An idea has sparked in his head based on something Lambert said. Lambert of all people. This was probably a stupid idea. But he listens as he stands there outside the library, making sure no one is inside. Not that the other witchers wouldn’t be aware of his presence lurking in the hall but at least Jaskier or Yen wouldn’t have known. Luck seems to be on his side though as the room is currently empty. Muttering to himself again that this is a really stupid idea, he enters the library, grabs what he needs, and flees.
The unused room at the top of the stairs is cold; snow has blown through the broken-out window. Geralt sets down the items from the library and sets up the room. He cleans off the floor in front of the fireplace, which thankfully still seems functional. Some of the broken pieces of furniture get thrown into the fireplace, the rest into a corner. Using Igni, he starts a fire then folds the blanket he had taken into a cushion, and places it on the floor in front of it. Geralt retrieves a flat piece of wood from the pile in the corner and lays it next to the blanket. Then he arranges the quill and ink pot and notebook on the wood. It will work for a makeshift desk, or at least a shelf for now.
Geralt watches the flames dance for a few minutes, taking some deep calming breathes. Shaking his head, he mutters to himself “Just fucking do it.” He settles onto the blanket and grabs the notebook. Jaskier is always writing bits and pieces to full songs in his notebook. Songs that can cause such strong emotions and reactions. Songs that bring his audience to bouts of laughter or to shed a tear. Songs that remind people how wonderful life and love can be even if there is sadness and hardship from time to time. Songs that show witchers are worthy of respect and aren’t the monsters that most people have been led to believe. That show people, that show Geralt, that Jaskier loves him through the good and bad times.
An hour later, Geralt is glaring at the blank page trying very hard not to just throw the book into the flames before him. He knew Jaskier was talented; but he never really realized how hard Jaskier had to work to come up with new songs time and time again. Though he thought he was getting better with Jaskier’s help, he knows he is horrible with feelings, emotions, and forget actually talking about those things. It seems like it should be easier to write something about how strongly he feels about Jaskier. His travels, his life, he would be empty without the bard and, well, everything and all that he is.
While all this is going through his mind, Geralt dips the quill into the ink starts to write one word or phrase at a time.
Jaskier
Bard
Love
Happiness
Talent
Honest
Brave/Protective
Ok, not brave with certain creatures
Great kisser
Looks
Chatty
Soft Hair
And that chest hair

Focus Geralt! He mentally scolds himself.

Ridiculous Clothes
Handsome Clothes
Caring
Compassionate
That thing he does with his tongue

Geralt gives his head a light slap, “Stop that.” His quill dips into the ink again then again. As he thinks of Jaskier, whatever word or phrases come to him he writes them down. Soon Geralt realizes that the sky outside the window is going dark. He has a couple of pages of the notebook full of how he sees, thinks, and feels about Jaskier. Deciding he needs to stop here and head down to dinner before people come looking for him, he puts aside the notebook and quill and douses the fire.
Of course, Jaskier notices again that something is still bothering him as they all gather to eat. Geralt catches him afterwards talking intently to Eskel, probably trying to get Eskel to tell him what they talked about last night. Later as he’s laying with his head on Jaskier’s chest, playing softly with the hair that covers the toned muscles, he hears, “Geralt, talk to me. What’s wrong” whispered into his hair. He hates the doubt that creeps into the bard’s voice. Geralt lifts his head and brings his hand up to cup Jaskier’s cheek; then brings their lips together in a soft kiss. “I promise. There’s nothing wrong between us.” “But,” Jaskier starts to respond, however Geralt sets a finger up to those plump lips, silencing the question. “Please trust me Jask.” There’s nothing that Jaskier won’t grant him so he kisses the finger against his lips. “All right, Love, Night.”
Afater Jaskier slips into a deep sleep, Geralt untangles himself from him and heads back to the room at the top of the stairs. He restarts the fire and reads over the words and phrases he had written down before, hoping it will inspire him to come up with something more than just a list to express what Jaskier means to him.
Your lips are like cherries
Your eyes blue like the sky
Your chest is very hairies….

Geralt shakes his head “That’s horrible!” He crosses it out and tries again.

Jaskier means Buttercup
It’s a perfect name for you….

Geralt crosses that out as well

More lines fill the notebook and more lines get crossed out. And if a piece of wood from the pile in the corner gets thrown across the room, no one is there to know about it. Geralt paces back and forth across the room, trying to work out some of his tension. “Jaskier is so good at this, at loving me and letting me know.” Muttering out loud he continues, “Hell the whole continent knows and I can’t…. AAAARRRGGGHHH!” he lets out a loud yell. “Fuck,” he than whispers, his shoulders tensing up even more. When no one comes investigating after a few minutes he relaxes a bit and sits down.
Picking up the quill again, he takes a few deep breathes and scratches out quite a bit before he stops to reread what he wrote.
I am insensitive, I have a tendency
To pay more attention to the things that I need
Sometimes I drink too much,
Sometimes I test your trust,
Sometimes I don’t know why you stay with me?
I'm hard to love, hard to love, I don't make it easy
And I couldn't do it if I stood where you stood
I'm hard to love, hard to love and you say that you need me
I don't deserve it but I love that you love me good

“Great, Geralt, just turn it basically into a poem about you.” Again, he crosses out the words. At least it was longer and made sense in a way. It seemed better than anything else he had written. Another sigh escapes him. He closes his eyes and thinks of the songs that his bard has sung about him. Some are slow and sappy, some are loud and bawdy but all are about love. The last one comes to mind and he can hear Jaskier singing it in his head (and isn’t it a good thing there’s no mirror so Geralt can’t see the blush that colors his cheeks).
I can’t imagine me lovin someone else.
I’m a lucky man,
I think this bard’s got himself,
One hot Witcher
You turn me on, let’s turn it up,
An’ turn this room into a sauna.
One hot Witcher
Oh, whaddya say, babe?
Oh, now whaddya say, babe?
You wanna?

Geralt shakes his head and adjusts himself just a bit. No, definitely not something like that. Maybe he needs to douse the fire down a bit as it’s definitely getting quite warm in his little escape room. “Get yourself back to writing or whatever you think you’re doing here,” Geralt mumbles to himself. Maybe he should have done this in the stables so at least he’d be talking to the horses instead of himself. He pictures Jaskier the first time he heard him sing. Not at that tavern where Jaskier first approached him. Geralt had come clean that the first time he had heard him was in Oxenfurt while with Everard during an open floor night for students. Geralt thinks back on that night and how Everard had to talk him into a night off. Other bards sang rowdy songs to get the crowd fired up. But his bard had sung a song of loneliness and pain. Not realizing he’s sticking his tongue out of the corner of his mouth like he’s seen Jaskier do more times than he could count, Geralt sets his quill to paper again.

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
I heard he sang a good song
I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him
To listen for a while
And there he was this young boy
A stranger to my eyes
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
I felt all flushed with fever
Embarrassed by the crowd
I felt he found my letters
And read each one out loud
I prayed that he would finish
But he just kept right on
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
He sang as if he knew me
In all my dark despair
And then he looked right through me
As if I wasn't there
And he just kept on singing
Singing clear and strong
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me
He was strumming my pain
Yeah, he was singing my life
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly
With his song

“Geralt, what are you doing up here?” Startling at Jaskier’s quiet question, Geralt knocks over the inkpot but catches the notebook before it can drop into the spreading ink and hugs it to his chest. “Melitele Jaskier, you trying to kill me or something?” he growls out at him to try covering up his embarrassment and guilt. Not only had the usually not so quiet man caught him unaware, but also trying to write a poem, song, whatever, that was as a surprise for him.
Jaskier can’t help but burst into what can only be called a giggle. “Geralt, I don’t think I’ve ever sneaked up on you before. Even when I try.” He stops giggling as a couple of different emotions flick quickly across his love’s face. Jaskier voice fills with concern. “But I never surprise you. Geralt what’s going on?” Standing up to give himself a bit of time to refocus himself, he goes to give his standard “Nothing, it’s fine,” answer but Jaskier is done with that. “No Geralt. Talk to me!” he demands.
For a moment, Geralt thinks he should just push himself past Jaskier. However, those blue eyes start to mist over and he knows he can’t. He’s hurt Jaskier too much in the past, and he had promised both this man and himself to be better. To not let the feelings, good and bad, bottle up until he explodes like he did on that horrible day. With a deep sigh, he gingerly holds out the notebook, hoping Jaskier doesn’t notice that his hand is shaking slightly.
“What’s this,” Jaskier asks softly, taking the notebook into his hands. Geralt just stares at those hands. Hands that can bring beautiful music from the lute. Hands that play him just as well. Hands that bring him comfort and healing. Hands that are scarred from protecting him and Ciri when he least deserved it. He takes them gently, brings them up to ghost his lips over them. “Jaskier I…” he stops, “You know…” he stops again. “Dear heart. Take a breath, take all the time you need.” Jaskier reassures him as he steps closer, touching his forehead to Geralt’s. The two men stand like that for a few minutes. Jaskier’s hands holding that notebook, Geralt’s hands holding his.
After closing his eyes and taking a few deep calming breaths, Geralt tries again. “Jaskier, you are…I … You are very important to me.” Jaskier acts like he’s going to respond, but Geralt pleads with him. “Let me finish?” Feeling a slight nod, a gentle nuzzle of a nose along his, he continues. “You are more than important. The path, my life, would be dark and lonely without you. I would be existing but I wouldn’t be living.” He pauses and takes a few more calming breaths. “I promised I would be better about talking to you. But when I try…You are so good, really good…” he lets out a huff and Jaskier gives him a gentle head nudge to encourage him to go on.
“I love you, Jaskier. My life is empty without you. I not only want you to always feel loved, cherished, and safe. I want to be able to tell you how much you mean to me.” Before he can continue, he feels a drop of water on his hand. Opening his eyes and pulling back just a bit from Jaskier, he’s horrified to see tears falling from those beautiful eyes. Fuck, he thinks, I messed this up again, hurt him again! “No, Geralt, Sweetheart.” Jaskier soft murmur stops him from backing away all together. “But you’re crying, I hurt you again,” Geralt voices his thoughts from moments ago. “You didn’t. Those words are simply the most wonderful thing anyone has ever told me. And to come from you, my dearest Geralt, they are the most precious thing I have ever heard. How could I not cry in happiness?”

Their lips meet tenderly, the taste of Jaskier’s tears mixing in with their kiss. Geralt lovingly lifts his hand to wipe away the last of trace of dampness from his cheeks. Smiling at the man he adores, Jaskier asks, “Now what is the notebook and why are you hiding out way up here?” “I…well Eskel thought…and Lambert said…just look at it.” Geralt pushes his hands holding that stupid, why did I think I could do this, filled with rambling stupid ideas notebook into Jaskier’s chest. “Words mean so much to you. Your songs are so…your emotions, your love,” Geralt actually blushes here “shines through. I just wanted to give you something better than mittens or a blanket…” he trails off.
“Oh Geralt. I love the mittens and blanket. Those gifts mean the world to me because it shows you want me with you on the path and here. That you see me and know what I need, even if I don’t. That you love me.” Jaskier takes huffs out a small breathe. “ Besides, why would you listen to Eskel and especially Lambert about what is good for our relationship?” Jaskier jokes. Geralt laughs out loud and the tension in the room disappears. “Not the brightest idea I’ve had,” he admits. Dousing the fire, the two exit the room and head back down to the main keep.
Jaskier stops at the door to their room. “Do you mind if I read this now?” For a moment, Geralt wants to take the notebook back. Instead he says “Don’t… judge me too harshly, it’s not like I’m a well-known bard or a master of the seven liberal arts,” he teases. Jaskier just snorts and gives him a quick peck on the cheek. Geralt leaves to fetch them some breakfast as Jaskier settles in to read.
Geralt almost drops half the food and drink he gathered when he’s stopped by a hand on his arm. “You’ve got enough there for a day or more, even if you are sharing it,” Vesemir observes. “I’m not…I’m hoping you’ll not see us until tomorrow.” Geralt explains, and he is not blushing. Vesemir just chuckles, “We’ll take care of Ciri until tomorrow. You take care Jaskier. Sometimes a lazy day in is just what the heart needs.” Geralt has never been so grateful of Vesemir before. “Thank you,” he responds quietly and quickly returns to his bard.

Kicking the door closed behind him, Geralt manages to set everything down without dumping it all over the table. Jaskier is still reading the notebook. Why did I think this was anywhere near a good idea, Geralt thinks to himself? He’s going to think I’m an idiot. Obviously its really horrible if he still is trying to make heads or tails out of what I wrote.
Before his thoughts spiral any further, he hears Jaskier set the book aside and get up from the bed. Within moments, Jaskier is at his back. Geralt feels Jaskier’s hands slip around his waist to find his stomach enclosing him in a loving embrace. A soft kiss lands on the side of his neck. Words he never will forget are whispered into his ear. “Those words, your words, are the most beautiful I’ve read. From the first to the last because they came from you, from your love. I will cherish this gift forever.”