#and eskel's just 'okay?? what do you want a fucking medal for it?? now move I need to squeeze him'

[teatitty]

Okay no but I'm thinking more about Big Brother Eskel hearing about this fucking bard Geralt has picked up and all the mischief and mayhem he causes while also bringing back a light to Geralt's eyes and making his path so much less lonely [wolves were never meant to be alone and especially not Geralt] and when he does meet him he's just like. Fuck. Look at this thing. He's so small and wild and free. Is anyone going to fuss over him like he's an errant baby brother or do I have to do everything around here my-fucking-self. And then he does and Dandelion's incredibly confused but he's not, like, mad about it

[knifewieldingenby]

a heart’s a heavy burden, part one

Incubus Jaskier, fic warning: very minor discussions about sex but no smut (I’m saving that for chapter two if you’d like to skip it. Mentions of energy starvation.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jaskier had been at Kaer Morhen for two months when things started to get strange. He woke up dizzy and nauseous, stumbling around the room to get clothes over his cold body. He felt hungry all the time but even the thought of food was making him sick. And his head, his damn head, felt like it was full of bees.

At first he thought it was just a cold. After all, it was certainly chilly enough in the keep to catch one easily. He wandered the halls wrapped in thick furs, sat by the fire with Lambert plastered to his side most evenings, stealing each other’s body heat. The other wolves teased them relentlessly, even Geralt, though he could see a hint of concern in the White Wolf’s eyes every now and again. But he’d had colds, and none of them felt as consuming as this. Nor did it feel like the flu; despite the dizziness and full head he was still able to move around the keep, could still eat when his stomach finally threw a fit. This was something...else.

He knew something was seriously wrong when he started getting angry for no reason. Every sound, every light, every laugh that rang out in the keep pissed him off. When Lambert tried to tease him about his hair (of all things) one morning he issued a swift “fuck off” that bit so hard it left Lambert in silence. The worst part was that Jaskier didn’t even feel bad about it. It didn’t make him feel any better, either. He felt like a powder keg, on the edge of exploding any second about the smallest of things. It wasn’t like him at all.

“I don’t feel so good,” Jaskier finally got up the courage to say one morning as he hobbled down to join the wolves hours after they’d woken up. The truth was, he didn’t want to bother them with his human problems. He didn’t want Geralt to regret bringing him here. 

“I noticed,” Geralt said. It was Eskel that approached him and gently touched Jaskier’s forehead with the back of his hand. He hummed and cocked his head a little.

“You have a low grade fever, that’s for sure. Maybe you should still be in bed.”

Jaskier nodded. Bed sounded good. He had forced himself to get up this morning - though he suspected it wasn’t actually morning anymore - but if he’d had his way he would have stayed in bed all day. His head felt heavy all of a sudden and he swayed in place. He felt an arm on him a moment later and he was aware he was moving, practically being dragged up to his room.

“I’ll bring you food later,” came Geralt’s voice. His vision faded in and out but he forced himself to keep his eyes on the man, who was now visibly worried. Before he knew it they were in his room and Geralt was positioning him in bed. “How do you feel?”

“Hungry.”

Geralt smiled slightly. “I’m sure. I can get you some food now-”

“No.” It came out somewhere between a whine and a growl, and Jaskier had the good sense to look embarrassed. Geralt nodded slowly, eyes full of confusion. 

“Okay, when you wake up then.” He looked down and grabbed Jaskier’s hand. “Take these off, it can’t be comfortable.” And then he was slipping Jaskier’s rings off his finger one at a time. He got to the last one on his left hand, iridescent pink and blue, a remnant of his childhood, and clamped his finger down hard.

“I never take that one off,” he said coldly. Thankfully Geralt didn’t push him on it; he squeezed his hand and placed it back on the bed. 

“Okay. Sleep well. I’ll be back later.”

Jaskier closed his eyes and felt the heavy weight of sleep consume him. Before he succumbed, he thought back to his ring. His mother gifted it to him when he was eight, maybe nine - he no longer knew how long he’d had it, but he never once took it off. It grew with him as his mother promised, by merit of the magic whirling inside it. ‘It’ll keep you safe from those who wish to hurt you,’ she’d said. She never clarified beyond that and after a while he stopped asking. The few times he thought about taking it off he felt the strong pull of magic and thought he’d better not.

Now he grabbed the ring and pulled. It slipped off with surprisingly little resistance. He placed it on the night stand with his other rings, turned onto his side, and let sleep take him. 

---

When he finally woke again it was night and Geralt was sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl in his hands. Jaskier felt like he was using all the strength in him just to sit up, his eyes taking a minute to focus. The room was dim, a small fire lit in the fireplace. He zeroed in on Geralt and squinted.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” It’s not his fault the question came out aggressive and demanding; he’d tried for gentle and his brain told him to fuck right off with that. 

“Eat,” he ordered. Jaskier’s stomach turned. He hadn’t eaten anything since last night, and even then he’d only had a small scoop of stew. Food sounded like a bad idea, and yet he felt famished. Still, he took the bowl and, under Geralt’s watchful eyes, ate a few spoonfuls. He held the bowl out to Geralt when he felt his stomach couldn’t take anymore and Geralt took it without a fight, placing it back on the table.

“You took your ring off,” he noted.

“Yeah, I figured I’d worn it since I was a kid and it was time to free my finger, so to speak.”

“Hmm.” He stood up quickly and headed for the door. “I need to speak with Eskel and Lambert for a moment. Try to get some more food in you if you can.”

Jaskier waited patiently for Geralt to return, confused but too tired to worry about it. When he heard multiple footsteps down the hall he sighed. He really wasn’t in the mood to talk to people right now.

“Holy shit, you really weren’t kidding.” Jaskier looked up to where Lambert was entering the room, followed closely by Eskel and Geralt. Geralt growled a warning at him and he laughed. “Sorry, but I definitely thought you were making shit up.”

“Stop talking,” Eskel said. He came closer to Jaskier and sat at the end of the bed. “This is...certainly new.”

Jaskier was only getting more confused by the minute. Him eating soup was new? Being in bed? Being sick? Of fucking course it was new, he hadn’t been sick his whole time here. 

“What’s new?” He snapped. Lambert chuckled again.

“Guess we know why he’s been in such a shit mood.”

“Lambert, I swear on my sword I will snap you in half.” Geralt grabbed a hand mirror and brought it to Jaskier. “Don’t...ah, just don’t freak out okay?”

Jaskier snatched the mirror from Geralt and oh, that was new. That was very new. He touched his forehead where Eskel had touched him just this afternoon. Instead of a nearly flat surface he was met with two horns that curled up and around his head, close to his hairline, and flicked up at the ends. 

Fucking horns.

“What. The fuck.”

“Oh no, he’s freaking out,” Eskel said under his breath. Geralt groaned and shook his head.

“Why did I bother to bring you two up here? You’re making it worse.”

“Geralt.”

Jaskier’s voice shook. Fear bubbled up and over; he was sure the wolves could smell it in the air. He looked at them through brand new eyes. He was...he was a monster, for fuck’s sake, something these men hunted for a living. What were they going to do with him? None of them had their swords, but he knew even in the keep they all kept small daggers on them just in case something happened. And now that something was Jaskier. A monster.

“It’s okay.” Geralt sat next to him, ignoring the way he flinched from the proximity, the way it made Geralt’s heart ache. “I know it’s new, and scary, but you’re okay. You’re safe.”

“But I- I’m a monster, Geralt. How did this happen to me?”

Geralt glanced over at the night table and picked up the iridescent ring. It looked so small in his big hands, looked so small now that it wasn’t on Jaskier’s finger anymore.

“Tell me about this ring.”

“My mother gave it to me. Said it would protect me from people who might hurt me. She made me promise never to take it off, and I haven’t until now.”

“It’s a glamour, isn’t it?” Lambert asked. Geralt nodded.

“Yes, it’s a glamour. Your mother clearly knew your horns would come in eventually and wanted to keep you safe from humans.”

“But what am I if not human?”

“Lemme smell him,” Eskel piped up. Jaskier’s eyes widened. “I have the best sense of smell and you know it.”

To Jaskier’s surprise Geralt moved from his place on the bed and was replaced by Eskel, who smiled sheepishly at him.

“Is this okay with you,” he asked. 

Jaskier nodded, a bit shaky and uncertain, but sure that he wanted to know the truth. He’d spent over forty years in the dark. No more. Eskel leaned over, pressing his face into Jaskier’s neck, and breathed in deeply. Jaskier’s eyes closed and he had to bite back the moan that threatened to break free. Hunger roared it’s head and he felt light-headed in a good way this time. He was ashamed when he felt lust creeping up on him. Eskel was certainly beautiful, but he wasn’t the one Jaskier had been pining over all these years.

Eskel and Lambert chuckled in unison and Jaskier blushed, certain they smelled his lust. If they could smell it so could Geralt, and he didn’t want to know what the White Wolf thought about that.

“It’s okay,” Eskel said as he pulled away. “It’s perfectly normal.”

Geralt chimed in. “Is he a-”

“Without a doubt.”

“Will you two stop speaking in code and tell me what the hell I am?!” Eskel and Lambert nodded to Geralt, inviting him to take the reins. He switched spots with Eskel and, to Jaskier’s great surprise, took his hand.

“You’re an Incubus. Half, most likely. I’m guessing your biological father was full Incubus.”

“Huh. That would explain why my father fucking hates me I guess.”

Geralt frowned at that, his eyes flashing with something close to anger. He shook his head and continued.”I’m not surprised this is just hitting you now. Your ring kept your physical traits glamoured and prevented our medallions from sensing you, and you’ve been...very sexual since you were a teenager, I assume. You’ve never gone this long without having sex, have you?” Jaskier shook his head. “Do you feel a hunger that food won’t satisfy?” A nod this time. “That’s because you’ve been starving for energy, an energy you can only get through sexual acts.”

“Okay, I guess I’m with you.” He wasn’t really with him; part of him wanted to laugh in Geralt’s face, tell him, tell them all, that they’d lost their minds, and go back to sleep. Surely when he woke up the horns would be gone and everything would be back to normal. “What do I do about it?”

Silence. Eskel shuffled awkwardly, Lambert grinned, and Geralt glanced down. Jaskier’s eyes must have been deceiving him, because the man looked shy. 

“You need to have sex,” he said simply.