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Jaskier rolled over in his bed. He noticed that there was a hotspot yet Geralt was gone. He groaned at the loss but happily snuggled into the blankets more. He rolled over to where Geralt slept previously, basking in the warmth from the sheet. He recalled opening his eyes for just a second on accident. It was still dark inside the room, but he could have sworn he saw something.
He willed his eyes open. He was greeted with an awkwardly-standing Lambert. Jaskier grinned up to the witcher. “Good morning, dearest. What brings you here?”
Lambert froze, as if unaccustomed to such a greeting. Jaskier frowned. His thoughts spun out of control as he wondered if he hadn’t been greeting Lambert with his usual pleasantries. He called everyone dear, darling, lovely, and sweetheart, didn’t he? Jaskier sat up, now fully awake, at the fear that he hadn’t been treating Lambert fairly.
Meanwhile, Lambert held one of Jaskier’s doublets. The young Wolf witcher said, “Can I borrow this?”
“Uh… sure…?” Jaskier’s heart soared. Lambert clearly liked him– was even going to try to understand Jaskier’s little culture of Oxenfurt and dressing in fine material.
“Do you have any pants?”
“None that would fit you,” replied the bard. Lambert fell silent. Jaskier quickly assured, “Geralt has a nice pair, though.” He got up to search through one of Geralt’s bags. He pulled out the nice, silk material that Geralt only wore to bed, as if to show his brothers that he was still super manly. “These would work, yes?”
Lambert took the black material. “Yes,” he whispered, voice soft and confused. It was very unlike the person that Jaskier had grown accustomed to.
Jaskier wanted to ask why Lambert wanted a doublet and a new pair of pants to borrow, but he didn’t want to pry. Obviously, the witcher was beginning to trust him. Jaskier wasn’t about to let the man down by spilling his secrets.
The bard simply asked, “Is there anything else you need?”
“What oils do you recommend?”
Jaskier beamed at Lambert’s question. He instantly reached for his pack. He took out his trio of oils: honey, grapefruit, and tangerine. “Geralt says the grapefruit one is the strongest, so just be careful with it. I personally adore honey, but I think tangerine is more up your whole, uh, schtick.”
Lambert graciously took the tangerine. “I’ll return it.”
Jaskier felt himself chuckle. “Don’t worry too much. I have extras in my room at Oxenfurt. I get free samples from one of my friends so–”
“Thanks.”
The bard blinked. “Your welcome, darling. You can borrow anything of mine anytime you want. I’m not sure what would fit you, but the offer will always stand.”
Lambert then smiled, soft and shy. Jaskier tried to hide his glee but knew that the witcher could smell it.
“Are you going to breakfast?” asked Lambert.
“Oh… uh, I’m still tired.” Jaskier spun around. His bed looked quite inviting. “I’ll go back to bed. The sun’s not out yet. I quite like the idea of dreaming some more–”
Lambert hit the bard over the head with a hardcover book that was laying in a pile on a small table. The witcher caught Jaskier from falling onto the stone. He dragged the bard onto the bed, where he then plopped Jaskier on. Lambert went from foot to foot in thought before covering the bard up in a fur skin.
—
Aiden walked down one of the halls of Kaer Morhen. He was searching for his ever elusive boyfriend. Lambert disappeared right before morning training, which was off for the Wolf, as he usually liked to spend the morning together. The Cat witcher stopped by the library, yet he found no one there.
Aiden moved on, wondering if Lambert had perhaps gone for a walk. He saw bootprints in the snow. He felt himself smile as he followed them along. So he was right, Lambert went for a walk. He eventually came across a small cliff. His heart rushed in its beats as he peered over the side.
Aiden looked down to see a small speck, to which he knew was Lambert. He called out, “Lamb! Lambert, are you awake?”
The speck moved, then hollered, “Broke my knee!”
Aiden started to climb down. He had the perfect abilities to make it down without a fuss. Less than half an hour later he was tying a stick to Lambert’s leg in an awkward attempt at helping it not heal weirdly.
Lambert cursed as they made the climb back up.
“Was there a slippery part by the edge that you miscalculated?” asked Aiden. He couldn’t think of any other reason why Lambert would have fallen.
“Fuck no. Someone pushed me. I thought it was a deer or something, but it was humanoid. Maybe a spiteful human, but they’re a lot louder. I don’t fucking know.” Lambert sighed as he slipped on a slippery rock. Aiden graciously held him up. “Something’s around Kaer Morhen. Something that clearly wanted me out of the way.”
“And I left to find you so–”
“We were their only hope,” murmured Lambert. “Only the idiots are left up there.”
“Are you saying that Vesemir’s an idiot?”
Lambert rolled his eyes. “Fuck. No. He’s just… he’s busy making potions and crap. Did you see that table in the laboratory? It’s filled up. He’s trying to make the Path easier for us, but he’s making it harder on himself.”
“Ah. You think he’ll be too busy or exhausted with preparing for when we take off next week.” Aiden hummed. “I think he’s happy to help.”
“Geralt will be too busy with his bard,” exhaled Lambert. “Shit. Eskel and Coën are the only competent ones up there and I think they’re both in the stables most of the time.”
“Coën’s planning on trying Cherry out for the year. You didn’t like her, so he’ll give her a chance.”
“That mare has a fucking attitude problem. She kicked me once when I was trying to reach into my saddle bag.”
Aiden huffed out in amusement. “Sounds like you two would have been a perfect team.”
“Fuck you.”
“You already have.”
—
Geralt walked into the Great Hall with surprise wafting off of him after soaking in the hot springs. Jaskier, the man known for sleeping in whenever he got the chance, was eating scrambled eggs, pickled asparagus, and stale bread with a subdued smile on his face. Geralt took his place next to the bard. The bard flinched at the contact, which made Geralt’s gut sour.
“You okay?” he whispered to the bard.
Jaskier put on a smile. Geralt smelt his nervousness and anxiety. It was then that he realized he smelt his own scent on the bard. He inspected Jaskier’s clothes, only to see a familiar pair of pants. Oh, Geralt thought, he’s embarrassed. Usually Jaskier asked to borrow a piece of clothing. Did this mean that more trust and comradery had solidified in their relationship?
Geralt smiled as he took a jar of the pickled asparagus and dished it out to his plate. He glanced up to see Vesemir giving a knowing smile. Geralt shook his head and turned his face down so he didn’t have to look at the old witcher. Geralt finished fetching his breakfast just in time for Eskel to stop by.
Eskel greeted, “Vesemir, Jaskier, Geralt.” He sat down and piled his plate with scrambled eggs. “Aren’t the chickens a great addition to Kaer Morhen?”
“I suppose,” agreed Vesemir. He poured himself some wine. He was about to stop, but then continued to fill up his mug.
“Drinking so early? What happened to keeping your head cleared?”
“Don’t get me started, boy.”
Geralt felt himself smile in amusement. He said, “Are we all allowed to drink today and not train?” He sent a small look to Jaskier, though the bard wasn’t looking.
Vesemir huffed with faux annoyance. “If you all really want to, I suppose you could take a day off. It would mean you’d have to train two times as hard tomorrow.”
Eskel chuckled. “I would rather not have to do that, thank you very much. I’ll stick with water until tonight.”
Geralt turned to Jaskier to ask if they wanted to go on a walk together, but the bard was picking up his plate. At Geralt’s confused look, Jaskier said, “I’ll be up in the library. See you later, dear.”
Geralt watched as the bard sauntered off into the kitchen. Eskel snorted at the White Wolf’s face. Geralt kicked him from under the table. They played footsies until Vesemir slammed his mug into the table harshly.
—
Aiden and Lambert reached the keep. Aiden opened the door just a crack so that Lambert could hobble inside. Warmth greeted them, which was quite nice. They walked through the halls, only to run into Coën. The Griffin had a knitted hat from Eskel on, and was holding a chicken that also had a knitted hat but a scarf as well.
“What happened to you two?” asked Coën.
“There’s a fucker around here,” said Lambert.
Aiden explained, “Something pushed him off a cliff. We think they’re in Kaer Morhen or planning to be.”
Coën gave a slightly confused nod, but prepared for seriousness. “I can put Daffodil back in the pen.” He quickly jogged away with the hen in his arms.
Lambert cursed, “The fuck was that?”
Aiden chuckled as he brought Lambert to their room. He propped Lambert on their bed and riffled through their bags. He handed Lambert a Swallow potion then took out a salve. Lambert chugged the potions quickly while Aiden took off the stick propping his leg, then cut his pant leg to get a look at his knee.
“It looks fucked up,” muttered the Cat witcher. Lambert’s knee was a tangle of blues, purples, and yellows.
“It’s broken. What did you expect?”
“Something better than it looking like that.”
“Well, shit, I can’t do anything about it.”
Aiden gave an unamused look to Lambert. “I get it. Just… stay here. I’ll sneak around to see if anything’s amiss.”
“You ain’t going anywhere without me.”
“Your knee–”
“I’m fine,” snapped Lambert. He patted his injured knee for emphasis. “It’ll heal within a few hours. If there’s a threat I’m not going to be sitting around while you deal with shit.”
“Fine.” Aiden let Lambert put his arm around his shoulder. “Where to?”
“Geralt’s room.”
“Ah. You want to check on Jaskier. How sweet of you,” murmured Aiden, amusement in his tone.
“Hey, that’s not it. I don’t give a damn about him.”
“Sure.”
“Aiden, I– you know that I don’t care–”
“Lambert has a heart,” forlorned Aiden. “It’s like I barely understand his motives nowadays. Whatever will I do?”
They made it to Geralt’s room. They quietly, sneakily opened the creaky door. They flung their heads inside to see the bard asleep in the bed as if nothing was wrong with the world. Just as quietly as they opened it, they closed the door and shuffled away.
“Of course the bard’s fine,” muttered Lambert. “He fucks around and sleeps through chaos that he doesn’t start.”
“Hmm. Who does that remind me of?”
“Oi.”
—
Eskel had finished breakfast and found his way to the stables. He knew that morning training would start soon, but he quite liked the idea of checking on Lil Bleater and the chickens before disappearing for a few hours. He was checking Lil Bleater’s horns for any sign of lacked nutrients when he looked up to see Coën shutting the chicken pen.
“What are you doing?” asked Eskel.
Coën looked grim. “I can’t hang out with Daffodil today. Lambert got injured. He thinks whatever pushed him off of a cliff is trying to break into here.”
“Lambchop fell off a cliff!?”
“Yep.”
Eskel stood from the goat. He let Coën lead him to the other witchers. They were greeted with Aiden helping a limping Lambert get up a staircase. Eskel quickly took Lambert’s other side, and together the trio made it up the stairs while Coën played with his knitted hat strings. They reached the top to find Vesemir.
The old witcher gave them an amused look before he realized Lambert had an injury. Vesemir said, “What’s happened?”
“I was attacked,” said Lambert.
“I see that. What’s the threat assessment?”
“Low. Haven’t seen anything odd.”
Vesemir turned to Eskel, who shrugged. Vesemir closed his bestiary in order to stand up. He took out a silver sword that he held by his bed. “Are Geralt and Jaskier clued in?”
“Haven’t seen Geralt yet. Is he in the Great Hall?” said Aiden.
“He went to train.”
They all very focused and sneakily made their way to the courtyard, as witchers did. They were welcomed to Geralt going through paces on a wooden dummy. Lambert whistled, which caused Geralt to look away. The White Wolf seemed surprised to see all of them with serious looks on their faces.
“Hmm,” he greeted.
Coën supplied, “An attacker is nearby. Have you heard anything suspicious? We haven’t come across anyone odd yet.”
“The keep’s big.”
“That is it,” said Vesemir. “Fan out in pairs. There’s a lot of secrets in these walls. Bestiaries, journals, potions, oils, relics. There’s a lot that could be sold for a high price to a buyer. Witchers are seen as monstrous, so their history is always wanted.”
“How’s Jaskier?” asked Geralt. Everyone pretended to not smell fear and anxiety rolling off of the white-haired witcher.
“He’s asleep,” gruffed Lambert.
“He fell back to sleep?” murmured Eskel. “I thought he said he was going to the library.”
The witchers all seemed to know something was off. They exchanged looks and gestures.
“Library,” called off Geralt. “I’ll go to the library.”
“Me too,” added Eskel. The pair quickly stalked off. They disappeared into the halls of Kaer Morhen where something mysterious had gotten inside.
Coën, Aiden, Lambert, and Vesemir stared at one another.
“We’re going to the bard’s room, then,” muttered Lambert, clearly not happy as they all moved out at once. He was held up by Aiden and Coën so he didn’t injure his knee further. “Shit balls.”
Vesemir spoke, “A Doppler is the most likely choice. They’ll have the memories of the real Jaskier, so be wary. They might greet you like normal, but they’re not. They’re tricky and often don’t mean harm.”
“If the Doppler is in Kaer Morhen it isn’t just for fun. It takes a long time to get here,” said Aiden.
“The library has a lot of information. Good and bad.”
“Doppler’s react to silver, yeah,” checked Coën. He took out a silver dagger as they neared Geralt’s room. “What if it’s not a Doppler?”
“Then Jaskier has some weird scheduling going on,” muttered Aiden.
Vesemir knocked open the door quickly with one push. He turned to see the bard still asleep. He sighed as he neared the bard with his silver sword in hand. When Jaskier still didn’t wake, Vesemir gestured for Coën to come closer. The Griffin put his silver dagger across Jaskier’s bare arm. There was no reaction.
“Jaskier!” he whisper-shouted in glee. Coën reached down to wake the bard, but was stopped when Vesemir grabbed his wrist.
“Blood,” spoke Vesemir. Lambert and Aiden both looked away for not noticing it earlier. Vesemir leaned down to where he was smelling the blood from. He put his sword down and turned Jaskier’s head over to see a bleeding gash. “Head wound. See if Geralt has any salve in here.”
Aiden set Lambert against the wall as he looked around. Coën slipped his dagger away to help. They riffled through bags and tables, but found no salve or potion that would be safe for humans.
Vesemir gave a single nod. “Alright. Help me get him to the laboratory. Head wounds affect us, so they affect humans more so.”
Vesemir took Jaskier’s arms while Coën took Jaskier’s legs. Lambert hobbled his way with Aiden. The five of them went up to the laboratory slowly. They ran into Geralt and Eskel, who were empty-handed. Geralt quickly took Coën’s place in carrying Jaskier. They all moved onto the laboratory.
“They weren’t in the library? Then why are they here?” said Aiden. “What else does Kaer Morhen have to offer that we haven’t checked?”
That question was quickly answered when they opened the door to the laboratory in order to see the not-Jaskier putting some of the potions in a bag.
“Oops,” said not-Jaskier.
“Melitele’s tits, that’s a good fucking copy,” murmured Lambert.
Not-Jaskier awkwardly stood in a stare-off with the witchers. “So… you found out.” His eyes were on the unconscious bard that they were carrying. “I don’t suppose you’ll let me leave.”
“Put down the bag,” commanded Vesemir. He gave Eskel his part of the unconscious bard to hold onto. The old witcher stepped forward. “You don’t have to die here if you don’t want to.”
“You see,” said not-Jaskier, “that’s not true. I have Jaskier’s memories. I know how to make all of the potions and oils in here. Not to mention that I now know of witcher’s weaknesses and their history thanks to the lovely library he likes to spend his time in.”
“I’ll adjust my statement. You don’t have to die painfully.”
Not-Jaskier gave a grim smile. “I have orders, Vesemir. I can’t reveal anything to you so…” The Doppler quickly took a Black Blood potion. Within moments, not-Jaskier was heaved over and choking on his own blood that turned a sickly dark color.
“Fuck,” said Coën.
Geralt and Eskel carried Jaskier over to a bed. Eskel looked unsure of what to do with a human that was injured, but Geralt quickly went about the lab for the ingredients in the human-safe salve he carried. As Geralt mixed up a salve, Aiden put Lambert down on the bed next to Jaskier. Lambert groaned as the Cat witcher took another look at his broken knee.
Meanwhile, Vesemir sighed as he looked at the not-Jaskier’s fallen form. The Doppler didn’t revert to their original form. Coën seemed slightly haunted at the appearance of a dead Jaskier. Vesemir said, “I’ll take care of it. Roam the perimeter for any other threats.” Eskel chose that time to go with Coën. The two set off in a pair to check the rest of the keep. Vesemir buried the Doppler in the woods.
When they all returned with no threat over looming, they were greeted with Geralt muttering to his bard. Something was clearly wrong with Jaskier, as he simply gurgled and groaned. Nothing the bard said made any sense– there were no words or sentences spewing out of the poet’s mouth. Geralt didn’t seem affected by it, so most wrote it off as a human thing.
“What’s wrong with the shit-stirrer?” asked Lambert. His knee was looking better by the minute now that he was resting.
Geralt seemed subdued as he revealed, “Concussion. Happens when they’re hit on the head. He’ll hate sunlight for a while. Won’t be able to play music, too.”
“Does that happen a lot with the bard?”
“Sometimes. He likes to investigate things he should leave alone.”
Eskel chuckled. “Hey, do you all remember how I met Jaskier in the first place?” They all turned to him. None of them could recall it. “Oh. Did I not spill the beans?”
“Aiden and I revealed the ways we met him,” said Coën. “I was dying in an inn and Aiden was in Oxenfurt because of their sewer problems.”
“Well, mine involved that weird monster from a few years ago. You know, the tar-pit with the hand coming out of it.”
Vesemir remembered that incident. “I never could figure out what the creature was. It wasn’t in a bestiary or tale that I know of.”
“Well, he heard some townspeople in the taverns talking about sacrificing me to the creature, so he obviously had to check out on this witcher that was going to his impending doom–”
-
Jaskier rifled through his desk to reveal an old notebook. He huffed in relief as he flipped open the cover to see his name scratched across the first page at the bottom. The next was filled with his old, horrid poems. He read through them with a smile. It was easy to remember the days when he finally got away from home as the best days of his life, but his poems back then were quite the terrible sight. He sat down at the small table and flipped through the pages.
He looked up to see his dearest had entered their room. Jaskier felt himself smile, “Good evening, Geralt.”
“Jaskier, the sun hasn’t even risen today. You stayed up the whole night because you forgot where you put your notebook. We’re supposed to leave Kaer Morhen in an hour.”
“Oh, well, things happen.”
Geralt raised a brow. “You look half-asleep.”
“No I do not!”
“Jaskier, it’s okay. We can leave tomorrow. Just… just sleep. Your head is still healing.”
“Fine.” Jaskier shut his notebook, flung it into his satchel, then blew out the candle. “I’ll sleep. You go see off your brothers or something. Tell them I said ‘hi’ and stuff.”
“See, you can’t even form words. What happened to your poet's tongue, Jaskier?”
Jaskier flung his blanket over his head in response.