#eskel x geralt x jaskier x yennefer

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

30 Days With the Bard

After a year and a half, several scrapped drafts, and 30K words, the sequel to Hanging Out With the Right People is finally posted! You can find it here on AO3 or read the first few scenes below.

Rating: M

Warnings: none

Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier; Eskel/Geralt/Yennefer; pre-Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

Summary: After saving Jaskier from execution, Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer agree to let Jaskier travel with them for thirty days, with varying degrees of reluctance. But just as Geralt starts to develop a soft spot for the bard with the blue eyes and quick wit, they discover that there’s more to Jaskier than meets the eye—and the bard’s secrets might put all of them in jeopardy.

***

Before

"Would it kill the two of you to take me to a party someday where nobody is likely to get murdered?" Yennefer asks, checking her lipstick in the looking glass.

Eskel snorts. "Yenn, the last party you took us to, half the attendees died."

"And most of them deserved it."

Sitting back on the bed of the inn room the three of them are sharing, Geralt shakes his head at his lovers. "You two planning on murdering someone?" He directs the question mostly to Yenn. They aren't sure if the duchess whose third wedding Yennefer and Eskel are attending has really been sacrificing maidens in a bid for eternal life or if it's just a pernicious rumor. Knowing their history with noble weddings, it's sure to be a shitshow either way.

Yennefer meets his eyes in the looking glass, red lips curving into what someone who doesn't know her well would think is a sweet smile. "Only if they need to be murdered."

Eskel sighs, exasperation belied by the affectionate hand he brushes through Yennefer's hair. "You sure you don't want to come with us, Wolf? Keep the bloodshed to a minimum?"

"I'd love to," Geralt deadpans. "Unfortunately, there's a griffin in the woods that needs killing. Send the duchess my regrets."

"The griffin will still be there when we get back," Yennefer points out.

"And more than likely, at least one hunter won't be." Most lordlings at least have the sense not to send people into the territory of an angry griffin, but not the local baron. He's more concerned about getting fresh meat on his table than keeping his servants from becoming meat for a griffin. “Someone needs to take care of the problem before it makes its way into the village.”

“You going to need help?” Eskel looks hopeful.

“I think he can handle a griffin just fine.” Yennefer turns to Geralt with a raised brow. “We’ll be gone for no more than a week. Do you think you can stay out of trouble for that long?”

Geralt snorts. “Think I can manage that, Yenn.”

***

The griffin is no trouble. Neither are the ghouls that have taken over the local graveyard. The trouble comes back at the inn, where Geralt is fast asleep when three young men, all drunk and looking to prove a point, come bursting into his room with the intent to kill.

All that comes after is death and screaming.

***

Someone in the next cell is singing. He’s been singing for most of the two days since Geralt got tossed in the dungeon. His range varies. He sings odes to the rats he’s befriended and scalding ditties implying that the guard’s mother fucked a weasel—which, in Geralt’s opinion, is unfair to weasels. He’s singing the latter when Geralt hears the sound of something heavy ricocheting off the door. Probably a stool.

“Can’t wait to watch you swing tomorrow, you little shit! Hope it takes a long time for your fucking neck to break.”

The singing abruptly stops. Geralt hears the sound of heavy footsteps stomping past his cell. A moment later, he hears a stuttering inhale from the next cell, followed by a single ragged sob. It’s the first sound of despair Geralt has heard from his fellow prisoner in the past two days.

He thinks about calling out. He doesn’t know what he’d say; it’s not like he’s good at comforting people. That’s Eskel’s forte, not his. But it seems wrong to let the young man be alone on the last night of his life.

In a tremulous voice, the man begins to sing again. Geralt closes his eyes, leans his head back against the wall, and listens.

***

Day 0

Geralt knows he should walk away when the bespelled guard commands the executioner to free him from the gallows. The man reeks of lilac and gooseberries; the baron's change of heart and his guard's interference is clearly Yennefer's work. He knows if he walks away from the gallows, Yennefer and Eskel will be waiting for him, probably exasperated that Geralt managed to put himself in mortal danger yet again. He can take a bath to wash the scent of the dungeons off of him, have a decent meal, and lose himself in his lovers' arms. Maybe tomorrow, Yennefer will portal them to see Ciri. After thinking that he was never going to see her again, all he wants is to hug his daughter.

But he makes the mistake of turning around.

Jaskier can’t be older than his early-to-mid-twenties, wide-eyed and scared out of his fucking mind, though he's trying to keep a brave face. His mouth trembles as he tries to smile at Geralt. "Well, nice chatting with you, Geralt," he says. "I would say I'll see you around, but... well, you know."

The magistrate is reading out the charges against the bard: debauchery and disturbing the peace. Geralt isn't sure how refusing to fuck the baron is "disturbing the peace," but it doesn't matter. The fact that it's a bullshit charge won't make the kid any less dead if the baron gets his way. People die stupid, pointless deaths all the time, but this one seems especially so. Rejecting someone's advances doesn't warrant a death sentence, no matter how powerful that someone is.

Jaskier's heartbeat ratchets up to a silent scream as the magistrate finishes reading the list of charges. His enormous eyes are locked on Geralt's face. He isn’t pleading for his life, but he might as well be.

"Fuck," Geralt growls.

He knows it's a mistake, even as he steals the guard's sword and drives the hilt into the man's head, knocking him out. He knows it's a mistake as he cuts Jaskier free of the gallows and slings the bard over his shoulder. He knows it's a mistake as he turns to meet the incoming guards with his stolen sword raised.

But he'll get them out of this alive first and worry about the consequences later.

***

"I still don’t know what the fuck we’re going to do with a bard,” Yennefer grumbles.

The bard in question is sprawled out in front of the campfire, lying on his back with his limbs akimbo, snoring loudly. His chemise is hitched up a little, exposing the pale, hairy plane of his stomach. It’s a show of trust that no one with a sliver of common sense would show when sharing a campsite with two witchers and a sorceress.

“I couldn’t just let him swing for the crime of not sucking the baron’s dick.” Geralt can’t quite keep the edge from his voice. 

Her expression softens, just a little. “No, but we didn’t need to invite him along.”

“Think he invited himself,” Eskel says dryly from her other side.

“It’s only for a month, Yenn.” Geralt puts a hand on her knee, rubbing slow circles with his thumb. “Thirty days. He’ll be gone by the time we need to go get Ciri from the Temple of Melitele and head to Kaer Morhen for the winter.”

The bard snorts loudly in his sleep.

“Fine, but he’s your problem.” Yennefer jabs her finger at Geralt. “ Entirely your problem. I want nothing to do with this bullshit.”

Geralt nods, because he sees no point in arguing. Jaskier will only be with them for thirty days. That’s not enough time for him to cause any real havoc.

***

Day 1

“Hey.” Geralt nudges the still-snoring bard with the toe of his boot. Jaskier hasn’t stirred the entire time that Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer have been packing up camp around him. They could probably leave him here and the kid wouldn’t notice. Geralt’s not sure how the fuck he’s survived as a traveling bard. “Time to get up.”

Jaskier’s eyes fly open and he gasps, flinching backwards. Geralt grimaces at the sour scent of terror flooding the air. He’s used to humans smelling afraid around him, but he hadn’t been expecting this human to be terrified of him, not after how insistent Jaskier had been the day before about wanting to travel with Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer. On the other side of the clearing, Eskel’s head jerks up, posture going tense.

And then Jaskier’s bleary eyes focus on Geralt and his expression clears, a smile curling his lips. The terror scent fades as quickly as it had flared up. “Good morning, Geralt! That was the best night’s sleep I’ve gotten in weeks. Where are we off to this fine day?”

The day is gray and a little damp, with the chill of autumn cutting through the last vestiges of summer. It’s not what Geralt would ever think of as a “fine day.” “We need to put more distance between ourselves and Tridest. We’re going to head east to Flotsam. If we make good time, we’ll be there by tomorrow afternoon.”

“Excellent!” Jaskier says, which is the most enthusiasm Geralt has ever seen anyone show about going to Flotsam. “I spent several weeks in Flotsam last spring. Met the loveliest lady, Hilde, I think her name was, or maybe Heidi. No, definitely Hilde, I remember because—”

Yennefer, who doesn’t tolerate cheerfulness before midday, gives Geralt a look that very clearly says, “shut him up or I will.”  

“Here.” Geralt shoves a piece of hardtack at him. No one can jabber and eat hardtack at the same time, one of its few virtues. “Eat this. We’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

Jaskier takes the hardtack with a grateful smile, one that only dulls a little when he takes a bite. He tries to say something, but it’s incomprehensible around the hardtack, so Geralt just turns away from him and goes back to saddling up Roach.

***

“So, if you don’t mind me asking,” Jaskier says an hour or so later, walking between Roach and Scorpion.

“We do,” Yennefer deadpans from the back of her mare, Sabrina, named after a girl she went to school with. Geralt thought that they must have been good friends until Yennefer explained that it was supposed to be a slight against the other sorceress.

Jaskier continues on, heedless of her reply. “How does this work?” He gestures between the three of them.

Yennefer looks down her nose at him. “If no one has given you the birds and the bees talk, bardling, I suggest you go back to Oxenfurt and ask one of your old professors.”

“No, thank you.” Jaskier looks up at her with a brilliant smile. “They did a shit job of giving that talk the first time around. I was nearly twenty when I realized you could use your mouth to—”

“How does what work?” Eskel cuts him off, frowning at Yennefer.

“The three of you,” Jaskier says. “Do you travel together all the time? How did you meet? How long have you three been together?”

Yennefer arches an eyebrow. “What makes you think we’re together?”

“I’m a bard.” Jaskier’s voice takes on a lofty tone. “I know love when I see it and the three of you are clearly in love.”

Eskel turns to Geralt with a look of wide-eyed incredulity. “You’re in love with Yennefer too?”

“Don’t worry, darling.” Yennefer’s lips curl into a little smirk. “There’s plenty of room in my bed for the both of you. Unless you’d rather duel about it.”

Jaskier looks between the three of them with the enormous eyes of someone just realizing they’ve stepped in it. ”I, er…”

“They’re fucking with you,” Geralt tells him flatly. 

Yennefer sighs. “You’re no fun, Geralt. Thank the gods I have Eskel.”

Eskel looks very smug.

“Ah, I see how it is.” Jaskier barks a laugh. “It isn’t kind to torment your new friend, you know.”

“We’ll keep that in mind when we make a friend,” Yennefer says.

Geralt talks over Jaskier’s offended gasp. “It’s been the three of us for ten years now. We don’t travel together all the time. Most towns will chase out two witchers with stones as soon as we step foot in them and Yennefer has her own life, away from the Path.”

“Oh?” Jaskier turns to Yennefer, eyes bright with curiosity.

“No,” she says flatly and his shoulders sag a little.

Geralt doesn’t know how he ended up being the one doing all the talking, but Yennefer seems uninterested in answering Jaskier’s questions, Eskel is still faintly bewildered by the bard, and he has a feeling that Jaskier will keep asking until he gets the information he wants. “Eskel and I have known each other since we were boys. Yennefer and I met fifteen years ago in Aedirn.”

“He was hired to kill me.” Yennefer’s lips quirk.

Instead of looking horrified, Jaskier looks delighted. “Oh ho, I can tell there’s a story there.”

“Not really.” Geralt shrugs. “I didn’t kill her.”

“Well, I would hope not. That would have been an inopportune start to a romance.”

“There wasn’t much of a romance at the beginning,” Geralt says dryly. “She tried to kill me the first time we met.”

Yennefer makes no attempt to look remorseful. “That’s what you get when you barge into someone’s hiding place with a fucking sword.”

“Why were you hired to kill her?” Jaskier frowns. “I thought witchers killed monsters, not men. Or in this case, mages.”

“I was accused of assassinating the Queen of Lyria and her daughter,” Yennefer says. “Geralt had the misfortune to be traveling through Lyria at the time.”

Geralt hums. “The King of Lyria didn’t give a shit that I only kill monsters. It was either my head or hers.”

“But you saved her instead.” Jaskier looks downright starry-eyed.

Geralt snorts. “She saved herself.”

“You helped.” Yennefer reaches over to pat his arm.

“And then how did it become the three of you?” Jaskier looks between Yennefer and Eskel.

Geralt exchanges glances with his lovers. The story of how the three of them got together is inextricably entwined with the story of how Geralt claimed Ciri via Law of Surprise. And Geralt doesn’t need to discuss it with Eskel and Yennefer to know that there’s no way in hell that they’re going to tell Jaskier about Ciri. What keeps their daughter safe is that everyone thinks Princess Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon was lost at sea with her parents eight years before. No one would think to connect the lost princess to nine-year-old Ciri, the feisty, spirited student at the Temple of Melitele who gives her teachers endless gray hairs.

“I needed a witcher’s assistance and Geralt was unavailable,” Yennefer says, which isn’t entirely a lie. “Once Eskel and I got to know each other, it didn’t take long for us to realize what Geralt saw in the other one.”

“But how—”

“What about you?” Eskel asks. “How did a noble become a traveling bard?”

Jaskier strikes Geralt as the type to love talking about himself, so he’s surprised when the bard almost looks flustered. “Well, my parents sent me to Oxenfurt when I was twelve, like every noble son in Redania. We’re expected to study all seven liberal arts, but much to my parents’ dismay, I was far too interested in the art part of the liberal arts, particularly music. When I graduated from Oxenfurt, they thought I would return to Lettenhove and take my place as my father’s heir. Instead, I just… walked in the opposite direction of Lettenhove. That was seven years ago. I haven’t been home since.”

Geralt hums, remembering that Jaskier’s father apparently told the Baron de Tridest to go ahead and have his son executed. From the lost look on Jaskier’s face, he’s thinking the same thing. Taking pity on him, Geralt decides to change the subject. “Want to hear about the time Eskel nearly burned down the keep where we grew up?”

Eskel shoots him a betrayed look. “That was an accident.”

“Wouldn’t have made the keep any less burned down if there hadn’t been a mage nearby.”

“Come on, Wolf.”

“I would be delighted, Geralt.” Jaskier grins up at him, blue eyes sparkling with relief at the distraction.

Geralt has never been much of a storyteller, but he can try his best if it keeps Jaskier from getting that lost look on his face again.

***

Read the rest on AO3!

[eskelhashugetitties]

Girlfriend say something normal about Joey Batey challenge (failed)

[thedemonofcat]

Once, Jaskier went around and hired every single witcher at Kear Morhen. Then goes to find Yennefer for some magic help.

The job is very simple. To go to the next bardic competeition with him. Then, when Valdo goes on

Boo and yell insults as loud as possible.

Jaskier had Yennefer come along to have her magic amplify the sound even more

[halohalona]

IN THE SPAN OF THE SAME FUCKING WEEK WE GET SUPERMAN BUT LOSE GERALT

HENRY SAID THAT HE'LL ONLY CONTINUE THEE ROLE IF THE SHOW STAYED TRUE TO THE BOOKS. NETFLIX IF TOU CAN'T EVEN STAY TRUE TO A FUCKING BOOK THEN CANCEL THE FUCKING SHOW

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

The Witcher Masterlist

my requests for the Witcher are currently OPEN!! i'm partial to eskel, and love writing imagines/talking about my headcanons, but open to pretty much any character!!

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Geralt of Rivia

r o m a n t i c

A Quiet Moment - relationship: geralt x reader | summary: based on some prompt that asked you to write a scene between two characters just being around each other with no dialogue. Immediately thought of Geralt. | tags: fluff, angst

Extraordinarily normal - coming soon...

Scales Unbalanced - coming soon...

Geralt of Rivia NSFW Alphabet | tags: fluff, smut

p l a t o n i c

Stern - coming soon...

Eskel

A Hero from the Songs - coming soon...

Ribs - relationship: eskel x reader | summary: You're not from the world where the Witcher takes place. So, to stay alive, you stay glued to your witcher - Eskel. Catching feelings for him was bound to happen anyway. Right? Maybe a tiny, life-threatening encounter with a leshy is just the little push the both of you need. | tags: fluff, angst

Witchers

Witchers + stressed singlemom!reader - characters: geralt, eskel, lambert, coen | tags: fluff, angst

Geralt, Lambert, Eskel + drunk!so - characters: geralt, lambert, eskel | tags: fluff

Witchers + someone making their s/o uncomfortable - characters: geralt, eskel, lambert, coen | tags: slight angst, fluff

Imagines + headcanons (various)

How The Witcher characters would react to someone from our world falling into theirs - characters: geralt, yen, jaskier, triss, eskel, lambert, vesemir | tags: fluff, crack, timetravel

Modern!Human in Kaer Morhen - characters: geralt, yen, triss, jaskier, eskel, coen, lambert, vesemir | tags: fluff, crack, timetravel

How The Witcher characters would react to Lambert’s child surprise - characters: geralt, yen, ciri, triss, eskel, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

The Witcher characters + monstertamer!reader - characters: geralt, yen, jaskier, ciri, eskel, lambert, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

The Witcher characters + maleficent/fae!reader - characters: geralt, jaskier, yennefer, ciri, eskel, lambert, coen, vesemir | tags: fluff

[dapandapod]

Bruises

I realized I forgot to post this on Tumbl! It's about 8,5k and written in one day in a fit of inspiration (helppppp) because I needed that sweet sweet Jaskier whump. Please enjoy this emotional hurt/comfort ish-fix-it of season 2. On Ao3 here

Jaskier never expected to see Kaer Morhen, especially not in the way he ended up seeing it.

The dwarves lead him and Ciri as far as they can, banter and cutting remarks following Jaskier at every step.

Sure, he gives as good as he gets; whatever he is dealt he makes sure to give back, if he can get away with it.

But you can only be hit so many times before it becomes a bruise, no matter how lightly.

And Jaskier is already sore, from years of barbs, from years of being told to “fuck off, bard” or “shut up, bard” or “you are so fucking loud,” and well. It hits harder when it is someone you consider a friend.

Especially when it turns out that friendship was one sided.

The little princess is full of resentment and anger, but trading banter puts a small smile on her face, so he lets her.

If the way to get friendly is to let her tease him, so be it. He knows she needs an outlet for her inner turmoil so it doesn’t fester, so he turns up the dramatics and plays along.

The second to last eve they spend with the dwarves, it suddenly becomes too much. He knows Yarpen isn’t a fan, he knows there is some truth behind his name calling and swearing. 

Ciri is sitting across the fire, sharpening a stick with the knife from her boot, looking for all the world like she isn’t paying attention to the conversation around her.

But then one of the dwarves calls Jaskier an ignorant, lazy, useless human, wondering what the fuck he is doing here anyway.

Maybe it is the ale, maybe it is the smoke stinging his eyes, or the years of putting up with it.

Jaskier doesn’t remember which one of them it was afterwards, and it doesn’t matter. His anger flares. He stands up, and the group goes very quiet.

“Have any of you asked me anything of my life? Have any of you bothered to ask what I was doing in a fucking prison cell, why I don’t have a lute, or where I went after you left that fucking dragon hunt with Geralt?”

There is complete silence, only the crackling of the fire and the night sounds of the forest.

“You might think I’m useless, and that I am lazy, and that I’m ignorant. But I don’t have to be here. I have people depending on me, yet here I am. Giving up responsibilities and comforts alike, all for someone who can’t even call me a friend, surrounded by people who clearly don’t want me here.”

He flexes his hands, feeling the blistered and burned skin strain, the pain clearing his head some.

“I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow.” He finishes, picks up his bedroll and his pack, and settles on the outskirts of the camp, by the wagon.

Close enough to be safe, far away enough to get some peace.

It takes a few minutes for the muttering to begin, a few more until Ciri stands up too, and gathers her bedroll.

Until now, she has been distant, and he can’t blame her in the least. Now she settles down just a few feet from him, alongside the carriage.

It is colder here in the north, and neither of them had any kind of proper gear packed for their journey, unplanned as it was. He still drapes his leather jacket over her when he hears her chattering teeth, and settles on his bedroll with just a thin blanket.

~

Kaer Morhen is all big halls, high ceilings and hairy men. Hairy witchers. Lots of them too, and Ciri runs to greet them with a big smile.

They had found Eskel along the path, guiding them the rest of the way up. Ciri knew some of the way already, but only the paths closest to the keep, so it was a great relief having someone who knew what to avoid and what trails led them past ancient traps and monster dens.

The road was long, and Jaskier can’t believe Geralt thought he would make it here unscathed. Eskel seemed a little concerned as well when Jaskier explained his task, but said nothing.

Still says nothing, now that Ciri is surrounded by witchers, and Jaskier is left just standing there at the edge of the room. He is usually not one to hesitate to introduce himself, but he is tired, hungry, and frankly feeling rather neglected.

Eventually Ciri introduces him to the group, and it takes about three seconds after that to figure out who Lambert is.

Ah, ‘Lambert, Lambert, what a prick,’ indeed.

He is given dinner, a place to sleep, and is shown to the room where they keep a myriad of bathtubs. Lucky for him, there is already a fire going, making the room warm and toasty, and making it considerably easier to warm the water without any signs.

Jaskier can’t lie, he had been picturing hot springs, or anything pre-heated really, especially the shallow pool that had been built in the floor.

A quick toe dip later, and he is never stepping foot in that pool, ever.

His fingers ache when they come in contact with the heat of the fireplace, and he flexes them in an attempt to dispel the discomfort.

Sinking down into a tub at long last is heaven.

Dirt from far more than the road to the keep has had his skin itching, his hair stuck in a permanent curl around his ears, and he longs for his artistic dishevelment once more.

Sharing breakfast with the witchers of Kaer Morhen enlightens him about the many odd manners of Geralt of Rivia.

Watching the other witchers mess with each other explains so much. Unguarded food is immediately stolen, and if given the chance, someone will increase the temperature of their tea all the way to boiling, and then challenge each other to drink it, and so on, and so forth. Brotherly pranks, clearly, but the kind you need a certain set of mutations to deal with.

Jaskier only has his mixed heritage to keep him out of the worst of troubles that technically would be bad news for full humans, but nothing to keep him safe from this, so he steers clear.

Yennefer and Geralt join them that same afternoon.

Ciri runs into Geralt’s arms, and Jaskier remains at the table where he is challenging Coën with loaded dice.

Not until most of the others have gone to bed does Geralt finally approach him.

“Thank you for bringing her safely here.”

Jaskier looks at him for a long while, before replying.

“You’re welcome.” He says finally, and Geralt pats his shoulder. Weird.

~

After that first day, Jaskier approaches Vesemir while the others are busy.

The way he left things in Oxenfurt doesn’t sit right with him, and he is pretty sure Pricilla is going to assume he is dead if he doesn’t get a message to her soon.

He still has no idea how long he is supposed to stay in the keep, but he writes a carefully worded letter, assuring his safety and asking her to keep singing the Song of the Shore.

She will know what the coded song title means, and he has enough funds squirreled away to keep the entire Sandpiper operation going for a while longer, before he needs to find a way to beg his benefactor for assistance.

Vesemir gives him a long look, and Jaskier offers the letter he is holding, stifling a frustrated sigh.

“You are free to read it. I’m not trying to give away your location, just assure my safety of me and those I left behind.” He says, because he knows.

He spent years in the library of Oxenfurt, and he has read the old tomes that contain what little witcher history there is to find, as poorly depicted as it is. He knows about the sacking of the keep, understands the fear of it happening again.

It still stings.

Vesemir accepts his offer, and opens the letter, reading it over. His eyebrow climbs up his forehead, and he looks at Jaskier before putting it back into its envelope.

“I’ll have it sent.” He says, his mustache twitching when he makes a considering face. “Do any of the others know?”

“About the Sandpiper?” Jaskier asks, and Vesemir nods. “Yennefer knows. She was a part of the last group I sent off, before…” Jaskier stops and takes a breath. “Before. I know how and when to keep things to myself.”

Vesemir nods again approvingly, and takes the letter with him.

No one seems to have noticed the exchange, and Jaskier is left wondering if that is a good or a bad thing.

~

Things are a bit tense in the keep. Geralt still hasn’t seemed to forgive Yennefer for her betrayal, and Ciri seems to be more withdrawn lately.

Between witcher practice and chores, Jaskier tries to make himself as useful as he can be.

Which is not very, as it turns out, since he is not trusted to be in the lab anymore because of a tiny little tasting incident. Nor is he allowed to help with the patching up the keep. The library is Vesemir’s baby, and Jaskier is sure he is safeguarding secrets of the past there.

So Jaskier just… hangs around. Without a lute, he can’t play, and he probably wouldn’t be able to just yet anyway with his fingers still in their sorry state. The blistered skin has started peeling now, and new soft pink skin has started to show underneath.

He and Yennefer are getting closer, both of them evidently outcasts of a sort.

Especially since none of the other witchers make an effort to get to know them, nor is Geralt paying any kind of attention to either of them. She is the only one who really knows about the firefucker, and nobody has bothered to ask about the bandages.

If she had her chaos, she could have healed him, but she doesn’t, so instead she makes what ointments she can and watches him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t eat it instead of applying it.

~

Late summer is slowly becoming early fall, and Jaskier realizes that his window for leaving is ever shrinking.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really, but he has no idea what he's doing here. Geralt hasn't asked him to leave, but neither has he asked him to stay.

Their interactions are short and rarely between them alone.

A lot of it consists of Geralt being nearby when Jaskier is retelling funny stories of their travels, making Ciri smile and the other witchers roar with laughter and the corner of Geralt’s mouth twitch in an aborted smile.

They don’t treat him like the dwarves did, but they clearly don't know why Jaskier is here either, and it is frustrating to say the least.

They seem to appreciate his singing more than Geralt ever did, sure, but sometimes it feels like they use him to annoy Geralt, and sometimes Jaskier thinks it’s working…

Lambert is probably the worst. He is an asshole and excuses it by calling it honesty.

He picks up where Geralt left off after the mountain, poking at every visible sore spot until Jaskier is stinging. Jabs and jibes, poking fun at Jaskier to make the others laugh. Nothing he isn’t used to, but something that makes Jaskier feel uncomfortable when nobody steps in to stop him.

Ciri sticks close to his side after those nights.

She doesn’t say much, doesn’t try to defend him, and he would never ask her to, but she glares at Lambert and asks Jaskier to tell her another story, which he gladly does.

~

It’s been two weeks since their arrival, and he, Lambert, Coën and Geralt are gathered around the dining table. Most of the others have filtered out to their own tasks or downtime activities, but they linger, chatting and playing dice. Coën stays out of it, still not trusting Jaskier since the loaded dice incident, which Jaskier is immensely proud of.

For the first time in a long time, Jaskier is actually enjoying himself, and enjoying being next to his friend. Maybe, after all this time, Geralt has started to think of him as a friend too.

Until Lambert opens his mouth and ruins it all.

“You are not half as bad as Geralt made you out to be. Or maybe it’s because he made you leave your lute behind at the bottom of the mountain?”

Next to him Geralt stiffens, and Jaskier feels his jaw working.

“Thanks,” is all he says, shaking the dice in the cup one more time before slamming it down on the table a little harder than strictly necessary. Then he stands up and climbs over the bench, very fucking done with the entire conversation.

Behind him he can hear Coën berating Lambert, who pretends he has no idea what he said wrong.

Fucking asshole.

He doesn’t hear Geralt say anything, nor ask about the missing lute.

It’s not that cold out yet, but the air is fresh and crisp on his face when he steps out through one of the side entrances to the courtyard. Here and there witchers are milling about, but Jaskier wants to be alone.

He hurries to the main gate and across the bridge, seeking his solitude amongst the trees on the other side. Technically, it is a bit dangerous to go out alone, but Jaskier is pretty sure no little beasties would dare come close to a monster hunter’s keep in broad daylight.

“Jaskier.” Geralt calls after him, and Jaskier stifles a long line of swears. Still he lets Geralt catch up to him, even if he is decidedly not looking at the witcher.

“Lambert can be such a prick.” Geralt says when he has caught up. “He only wants to rile you up.”

Jaskier notices the clear lack of an apology in there.

“So I’ve noticed. And he succeeded,” Jaskier says shortly, flexing his fingers again.

A bad habit now, but it is better than picking at the sharp, hardened edges of skin that still cling to his fingertips as they heal.

Clearly, Geralt hadn’t thought through what he wanted to say, or he had expected this to be enough. It isn’t. He lingers, still standing there, waiting for… something.

“What do you want from me, Geralt?” He asks when Geralt isn’t saying anything, and turns to look at him. His… friend. The man he has spent far too many years believing he meant something to.

“... I wanted to see if you are alright.” Geralt says haltingly, and Jaskier finally snaps.

“Oh yes, I am clearly alright after being told time and time again that I am annoying, unwanted, useless, loud, and being told by your family that you had made me out to be all those things too, before they even met me.”

Geralt looks taken aback, but Jaskier is not done.

“I’m tired of this, Geralt. I am so fucking tired of this. Not once have you come to my defence, not once have you told them to fuck off.”

“You can hold your own.” Geralt says, frowning, and Jaskier spreads his arm in frustration.

“I can, of course I fucking can! I have to, since not even the man I thought of as my best friend considers me a friend enough to have my back!”

Again, the witcher doesn’t have a reply to that. Fucking figures.

“Leave me alone, Geralt. Before I say something I’ll regret.”

“...Don’t wander.” The witcher cautions him hesitantly, and thankfully returns towards the bridge.

Jaskier stays longer than what is probably advisable. He is just fuming, and he kicks a young tree, making yellow leaves fall down around him.

He could technically blow off steam by sitting down to write, but there would be an audience no matter where he goes in the keep, and he is also not very much in the mood for another Burn Butcher Burn.

That one has done enough damage already.

In the end, it is Ciri who ends up fetching him. She doesn’t say anything about his red eyes and tousled hair, nor the bruises on his knuckles.

“Dinner is ready,” is all she says, and waits for him to join her back across the bridge with the others.

Jaskier takes his dinner and chooses another table far from the big group. Predictably, Ciri joins him, but he didn’t expect Eskel to sit down with them, too. Nor Yennefer. Nor Geralt.

They talk amongst themselves, even if Ciri and Jaskier are the only one replying to Yennefer when she says something.

It makes him feel weird, considering their rivalry all these years.

He knocks their shoulders together and teases her, calls her the worst wife ever. It is worth it for the smile he teases out of her, but he notices Geralt pull in a sharp breath of air.

“What?” he asks, but Geralt says nothing, just stares down at his food.

That evening, Geralt walks Jaskier back to his room.

“I’m sorry,” the witcher finally says after a long stretch of silence that Jaskier refuses to fill. “For what Lambert said. And for what I made Lambert believe.”

Jaskier blinks in surprise. When there is nothing else, he turns towards his door.

“Sure. See you around, Geralt.”

But Geralt stops him with a hand around his wrist.

“Are you and Yennefer… really married?”

Of course. Of course that is what would be on Geralt’s mind. Another sore spot amongst the others on his bruised heart.

“Fret not, witcher, the sorceress is still unwed and free for the taking. She did get me out of a rather sticky situation, though, so if it’s all the same to you, I do consider her my friend and platonic wife.”

With that, Jaskier turns and closes the door behind him.

Fuck, that was not how he wanted this day to go. His eyes sting and he swallows many times and he clenches his fists to keep his emotions in line.

Maybe it is time to leave.

Maybe it is time to go back to where people need and want him. Where he can make a difference. Where he can matter. Where he is enough.

His eyes sting once more, and with a great sigh he heaves himself from where he was leaning against the door and pours himself a cup of water.

He’ll talk with Eskel in the morning. Or Vesemir. Find a way to leave that won’t inconvenience anyone any further.

~

Leaving is harder than he thought, mainly because now, all of a sudden, people seem to seek his company.

Yennefer keeps appearing, asking him for help with stupid things. Some of them, he realizes, might be a way to regain the trust she broke between her and Geralt, but he appreciates her company it all the same.

Especially since most of it includes making Ciri smile, some other parts of it to make Lambert’s life a little more shitty. Something he is all for, to be honest.

Jaskier is petty when he wants to be, and right now he is the Prince of Petty.

Geralt too, seems to have come to some conclusion. He bites back faster when Lambert becomes too much, or Eskel, or Coën for that matter. In Jaskier’s defence, even.

It’s… weird. Nice, but weird.

And it is tearing at the walls that he spent all summer building.

~

Jaskier writes another letter to Pricilla.

Vesemir had told him that he will accept no return letter, but there are some strings he could pull if it were really necessary. Since they are hiding from Nilfgaard in a keep deeply hidden away by time and nature, Jaskier respects the need for it, and continues writing his one sided letters.

He is rather used to one sided communication, after all.

~

When he finally thinks he is about to get Eskel alone, it is not by his own doing.

“I’m sorry, I found a journal without a name, and I looked through it to see who it belonged to.”

Well, fuck.

“Jaskier. You are putting yourself at great risk.”

“And others even more so, if I don’t.” Jaskier replies, knowing exactly what he is referring to. Eskel blinks, then nods.

“I need to go back, Eskel. Before winter comes.”

“It’s too dangerous. The pass will be open for a few weeks more, but you are a wanted man.”

This is news.

“What do you know?” He asks quietly, accepting his journal back.

“I have no idea how you got into the prison cell, but word’s spread that the White Wolf busted you out.”

Fuck.

“That’s not good.”

“I’m sorry.” Eskel says, and Jaskier pats his shoulder, but he immediately pulls his hand back with a grimace. How can one see the spikes on his shoulders, and forget that they are, indeed, spikey?

“Shouldn’t have done that. Why do you keep wearing spikes?” Jaskier says. “ Also, no fault but my own, I suppose, with the jailbreaking and all that. Actually, scratch that, are all witchers allergic to just bailing someone out? Or is it just a Geralt thing?”

Jaskier tries to lighten the mood, but his stomach is sinking and his hands feel clammy. Time to write another letter or three.

“Witcher’s are all cheapskates, I’m afraid,” Eskel grins, but then sobers. “Do the others know?”

Jaskier shrugs.

“They didn’t ask. Nobody asked.”

At the same time, Geralt comes around the corner and spots them, a frown forming on his forehead. Of course.

“Right. Well, if you would keep this to yourself, I’d be immensely grateful.” Jaskier says quietly, and this time Eskel pats Jaskier’s shoulder.

“I got your back, bard,” the scarred witcher says, ironically, and now there is a lump forming in Jaskier’s throat.

Great. Fantastic. Splendid. Amazing.

Without waiting, Jaskier takes off towards his room to hide his journal again. Not to avoid Geralt. Not at all.

~

The letters he puts together are swiftly given to Vesemir. His eyebrows shoot up again when he spots one of the names addressed.

“Not a friend I would have expected of you, Pankratz.” Vesemir says quietly. “I hope you know what you are doing.”

Jaskier knows. It is a high risk game for everybody involved, with him in the direct line of fire.

“They will have to make do without me for a while.” Jaskier says quietly. “Or so Eskel tells me.”

“Ah, yes. Might be good to lay low for a while. You are welcome to stay the season with us, if you don’t have anywhere else to go, but we expect you to pull your weight.”

Does he have anywhere? Is he really welcome here?

The way Geralt looks at him sometimes, he is not so sure.

“Thank you. Though I might need to make a trip down to civilization soon. Some more clothes, paper and a lute. What kind of bard am I without a lute?” He asks, half joking.

“It’d be better if we sent down one of our usuals.” Vesemir says, scratching at his beard. “A man like yourself is sure to stand out anywhere in these small settlements.”

Was that a complement?

“Was that a complement?” Jaskier says, smirking, and Vesemir huffs goodnaturedly.

“I can see them looking, bard. I have eyes. And ears.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jaskier asks, frowning, but Vesemir turns to go.

“Write me a list of what you need, and I’ll see what we can do.”

~

Aubry and Coën leave only a few days after Jaskier had written his list. He doesn’t really expect them to find him a lute, but something stringed to play would be nice. It’s rather likely they would find a 4 stringed lute at most, nothing like the one he smashed over that guard’s head, nor like the one he got from the Elven kind that he keeps safely in Oxenfurt.

Frankly, he’s glad that he couldn’t bring one of his nicer instruments.

The temperature changes could crack the wood, if not treated carefully, and it would be hell to keep that many strings tuned. He is pleasantly surprised when there is a knock on his door, and Geralt steps in with a leather case.

“The boys found you something,” he says by way of greeting, and Jaskier stands from his desk to accept the offered case.

He can feel the corner of his mouth tick up, and he wipes his hands on his trousers first to rid himself of stray ink before he dares touch it.

He grips it by the neck, feeling the smooth wood even through the leather of the case, and the gentle sounds of the strings as they are pinched in his grip.

“Oh, hello there,” he whispers to it, and opens it reverently.

She has six strings and a little care package, and she is terribly out of tune. The wood is old, loved, worn out, and he can see clearly where her previous player liked to put their fingers, the lacquer worn or marked to help the unpracticed one.

“What a beauty you are,” he tells her, and from the corner of his eyes, he sees Geralt leaning against the door frame, arms crossed. It almost looks like he is smiling, but Jaskier won’t turn his head to look.

There is a nervousness in him, like when you get to know a new lover. Excitement, fondness, curiosity.

He sits down on the bed, lute perched in his lap, and attempts to tune it. He fishes out the little tuning fork around his neck, raps it on his knuckles, plucks the matching string, and starts adjusting it.

Geralt makes a face; it’s probably not a nice sound to sensitive ears, but he remains.

“Did you know, it's common lutes have as many as 12 courses?” Jaskier says, turning the peg until it feels right.

“Courses?” Geralt asks.

“Strings. Oh, I might need to get this little darling some new pegs eventually, and that string looks a little worn out. We will fix you up, love.” He coos at the lute, and he hears Geralt huff.

“Doesn’t yours have 13?” Geralt asks, and Jaskier looks up, surprised.

“They do, yes.” Jaskier looks down, and his hands suddenly feel a little clammy, his cheeks warm. “The most I have ever heard of is 35, which is ridiculous. One of my old masters in Oxenfurt has one with 19, but I find those are best suited for academic music, rather than music for the masses.”

Geralt doesn’t say anything else, and when Jaskier looks up, Geralt is smiling.

“What?” He asks, but Geralt just shakes his head.

“Just haven’t talked like this in a while. It’s nice.”

That… is not what he expected him to say. Truth be told, he is still a little hurt. He still hasn't received a proper apology from that outburst from Geralt on the dragon hunt, nor any kind of thanks for just dropping everything to come with him again.

“This is going to take a while,” Jaskier says hesitantly, when Geralt doesn’t say anything else, nor move. “Technically, I should look her over first, then tune, but ah, can’t blame a man for being excited, can you?”

Jaskier looks down, puts his tuning fork back inside his shirt, where it clinks against the ring, and puts both hands on his lute.

“I don’t mind. If you don’t mind me staying.”

This is so weird.

Geralt stays, and listens to Jaskier tuning his new treasure. It takes him almost twenty minutes to see that Geralt is holding another bag, most likely one with the requested clothing.

They will have to wait a little more, as Jaskier is getting into position and putting the lute strap over his shoulder.

His right hand already stings a little, the new skin not used to the sharpness of the strings. Jaskier plays a few scales to get to know her, and to get back into it. He plays a little ditty from his past, humming the familiar nonsense words of the warm up song of his early days in the academy.

They don’t know each other yet, but it feels good to play again.

Just because he can, and because he wants to show off a little, Jaskier decides to test her limits. An old lullaby, embellished by the academics and time, harmonies and contrast ringing out in the room.

He smiles, until his index finger stings, and he hisses and puts it in his mouth.

“You alright?” Geralt asks, sitting up straighter from where he finally was sitting on the chair by Jaskier’s desk.

“‘m good,” Jaskier says around the finger in his mouth. “Just a cut. New skin’s not tough yet.”

He takes the finger out, and inspects it. His fingers are red, and the small cut is bleeding a little more than it should. Even his cuts are dramatic, he hears his teacher say, an echo from a distant past in the back of his mind.

“...New skin?” Geralt asks, face blank, and Jaskier looks up at him. The good atmosphere in the room is changing, and for some reason Jaskier feels like it is his fault. It makes him feel a bit defensive.

“Yes, you know, after the old skin blisters after a bad burn? Haven’t played in some time either, so that probably makes it worse, I suppose.” Jaskier can’t help but prod, to see if Geralt will take notice.

“You didn’t tell me about the burn,” Geralt says, his mouth a thin line.

“You didn’t ask.” Jaskier says, laying both hands flat over the strings, looking at Geralt challengingly. Good mood is all but gone now, and he feels that old bruise makes itself known again. This time he is the one poking it.

“Usually don’t have to.”

“Maybe I got tired of our one sided friendship,” Jaskier says before he can stop himself. Fuck, that is not how he meant to say that.

By the looks of it, Geralt doesn’t take it too well either.

He stands up, staring at Jaskier as if he grew a second head.

“Tired?” He says, hands clenching and unclenching against his sides.

“When was the last time you called me your friend, Geralt?” Jaskier says, starting to get agitated. “When was the last time you asked me something, anything that didn’t directly relate to Yennefer, Ciri, or you needing me to do something? When was the last time you apologized, for anything you have said to me?”

Jaskier stands up and puts the lute down on the bed, lest he does something he regrets too. All the words are pouring out of him now, why risk breaking anything but his own heart?

“Maybe I grew tired of being the only one trying.” He grabs his handkerchief to stop the blood from his finger, clenching his hand hard around it.

“Why are you here then?” Geralt spits, and it’s like a slap.

“I ask myself the same thing every day,” Jaskier shoots back, finding himself taking a step forward. “Why am I here, when clearly nobody wants me to be?”

Geralt stares at him, and Jaskier can’t really tell what that expression is.

“Are you leaving?” Geralt asks through clenched jaws.

“Can’t. Apparently there are consequences for being broken out of jail. Especially when it happens to have been by someone like the White Wolf.”

This time, Geralt visibly flinches.

“Didn’t think about that, did you?” Jaskier says. “I was so glad you found me again, I didn’t give a damn about the consequences. I pretended we could start again, maybe you would want me by your side, walking next to you for once, not just trailing behind like some forlorn fucking puppy.”

Jaskier looks at his bed, looks at the oh so loved lute, that had seen so many sets of hands, every scratch and tear a part of a journey.

“Vesemir has allowed me to stay through the winter. Unless you’ve all got something against that. Let me know, and I’ll be on my way.”

Jaskier wishes he wasn’t in his room. Wishes he could just leave. Instead, he has to stand there like an idiot and wait until either Geralt does, or opens his mouth, for once.

“I didn’t realize…” Geralt begins but trails off.

“That actions have consequences, Geralt? That words do damage too? Did you learn nothing from your entire Butcher experience?”

That is a low blow, and he knows it, but he doesn’t feel like being nice right now.

It’s remarkable that Geralt hasn’t blown up at him yet, which in itself is probably not a very high standard to hold anyone against.

“You are still bleeding,” Geralt says eventually, and Jaskier looks down to see that he’s dropped his handkerchief. The witcher bends down and picks it up, grabbing Jaskier’s hand along the way.

Jaskier is too stunned to protest, and Geralt lifts his hand enough to inspect the cut. It’s not bleeding much anymore, but from where it’s placed, it is likely open easily.

Geralt pinches the tip of Jaskier’s finger with the handkerchief, and Jaskier suddenly flashes back to another room, another time when someone held his hand.

It takes effort not to just yank his hand back, his pulse rising and his palms getting clammy again. Geralt looks at him from under his brow, concerned, but Jaskier pinches his lips shut.

“Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?” Jaskier manages when Geralt breaks the stare to reach for some linen Jaskier has been using as bandages every now and then.

“What I missed this past year. How to be your friend. Where we go from here.”

Geralt makes a tight wrap around his finger, to the best of his ability. Not the best place for a bandage, but at least Geralt has experience.

“I can’t tell you where we go from here, Geralt. If you ask, I can tell you about the months since the dragon hunt, but the rest, you will have to figure out along with me.”

Geralt holds Jaskier’s hand in his for a moment longer, neither of them looking at the other. The witcher’s hand is not much larger than his. With a gentle thumb, Geralt moves Jaskier’s fingers, allowing him to see what the firefucker did to him.

“You and Eskel seem to get along,” Geralt says carefully. “Does he know?”

The corner of Jaskier’s mouth tugs upwards in half a smile. Geralt is fishing, but Jaskier won’t say unless there is an actual question.

“Some. He found a journal of mine that I thought I had hidden.”

Geralt frowns and releases Jaskier’s hand. It drops to his side, and they both just stand there in the middle of the room, looking anywhere but at each other.

“You don’t usually hide your songs.”

“It wasn’t a song book.”

“... Can I see?”

Fuck it, why not. Whatever is happening in this room tonight will change things either way.

The new hiding place isn’t really a hiding place, just the drawer in his desk. He hands Geralt the leather bound pages, and Geralt opens and looks through it.

At first glance, it looks like his economic books. Taking stock of things bought and sold, to who and where.

Geralt glances up at Jaskier, who just nods at the book again.

Flipping a few pages, Geralt starts to make connections. When he looks up at Jaskier again, his face is carefully blank.

“You are the Sandpiper.”

“I am.” Jaskier agrees.

“You smuggled elves out of the big cities.”

“Indeed. Don’t worry, I have taken precautions for if I’m not around.”

If he should be discovered. If he were not to come back.

“Jaskier, you are putting yourself at risk.”

“And so are you, every time you take a contract. Don’t you dare tell me it’s not the same.”

“So it’s for the money?”

Jaskier sniffs, glaring at the witcher.

“No. It’s for the people who don't have anyone else to turn to. Because when they run out of elves, they will find new targets. You can’t tell me you took every contract for the coin, I have seen you accept contracts for half of your rate if they can’t afford it.”

“Is that why your fingers were blistered?” Geralt asks.

“No. That’s… something else. Something I’d rather not talk about tonight, if you don’t mind.”

Jaskier knows that if he does, he will spend the rest of the evening wondering if he gave anything away, wondering where Rience is, who else he is burning because Jaskier got away.

Geralt gives the book back, and Jaskier places it back in the drawer.

“Rest your hand, Jaskier. Heal before you play again.”

The room is strangely empty when Geralt has left.

Jaskier sits on the bed, staring at his hands for a long while, until he finally decides to look at what was in the bag of clothes that Geralt brought, and Jaskier promptly forgot about in favor of the lute.

Looking through it,it seems like Geralt might have added a shirt of his own to Jaskier’s new wardrobe.

He shoves it to the bottom of the pile.

Jaskier doesn’t make it down to dinner that night.

~

After that day, things slowly progress in small steps.

Everything goes to shit, however, when Voleth Meir makes herself known.

Ciri’s body moves at the possessing demon’s will, and she manages to stab three witchers badly before the alarm is raised.

Yennefer wakes him up, pulling him from a dream into a nightmare. She needs him.

Somehow they always need him.

The powers channeled through Ciri’s small body are strong, destructive.

Jaskier is hiding under a table when a large creature steps through a portal, a creature he has never seen before. It sweeps at the witchers, and Voleth Meir laughs with Ciri’s mouth.

It takes Yennefer tearing open her veins for Voleth Meir to finally let go, for Ciri to free herself from the snares her mind had been tangled in.

With a scream, Ciri, Yennefer and Geralt disappear from view through a portal.

Jaskier sees Lambert land on his back, leg bleeding badly after a swipe from one of the creatures still roaming. He pulls him to the relative safety of his table, and tears his tunic enough to wrap Lambert’s leg.

“Thank you,” Lambert grumbles as he gets his bearings, the commotion in the room making it hard to hear. Jaskier just nods, tying the makeshift bandage off.

Finally, it’s over.

And somehow, Yennefer got her powers back.

~

The days after are a mess. One of the stabbed witchers doesn’t make it, and Ciri has been hiding in her room, guilt ridden, making herself as small as physically possible.

Geralt tries to coax her out, but he still has too little time, too many things to sort out. With her newly regained magic, Yennefer heals who she can, focusing on major injuries until she almost exhausts herself completely.

All the while, Jaskier is left to his own devices. Again.

Not that there is anything he can actually do for them. He isn’t medically trained, nor does have magical abilities.

It leaves him wondering how he survived the whole ordeal at all, and while he feels lucky about it, there is also a morsel of guilt.

So Jaskier finds himself knocking on Ciri’s door. She is reluctant to let him in, but with some honey cake bribes, she finally relents.

This, he knows. This, he can help with.

A young girl, plagued with guilt and fear, struggling to get a hold of herself and what she did, he knows how to help her.

“Not what you did. What your body did, under someone else's control.” Jaskier reminds her between bites. “I might not have gone through what you have, but I know what it is like to feel helpless. Fear and expectations don’t mix well, especially not when a murderous witch is involved.”

They talk a lot, mostly Ciri actually, and maybe they cry a little. After they finish their stolen cakes, and Jaskier has sworn not to tell Lambert, Jaskier brings out his lute to let Ciri play.

It seems she has a basic knowledge, plucking out the chords of a famous love song.

Sadly, not one that Jaskier had written, but at least it wasn’t one of Valdo Marx’s. Which he tells her.

And then she proceeds to play one of Marx’s love songs.

When Geralt finally joins them, Jaskier is chasing a giggling Ciri, who is hugging the lute close, calling her a traitor and a terrible little child, cursing Valdo for tainting her poor, innocent ears.

~

The first day Ciri dares to join them for breakfast, she hides behind Geralt. Both Yennefer and Jaskier hover, ready to step in between if anyone has anything to say.

They don’t.

Lambert is the first one to approach, bandage and limp both gone, Jaskier notes. He sits opposite of Geralt and Ciri, slamming his plate down, his fork rattling down across the table.

“Hey, it happens. What is a little mind control between friends?” is all he says, then digs into his food with the worst table manners Jaskier has seen in a while.

The tension breaks when Jaskier starts berating him for it, and is met with a mouthful of food telling him exactly where he can stuff his manners.

Ciri smiles when Eskel settles next to her, bumping their arms together.

The others make a toast to the lion cub among the wolves, the one who finally found a way to shut Lambert up. Even if it was by challenging him to stuff his mouth full enough to almost choke.

~

The first snow falls not long after.

The last letter has been sent, the last visit to the village by the foot of the mountains has been made, and those witchers unwilling to be stuck for the season have left.

It is colder than a grave hag’s asshole, as Eskel declares one day, with Coën immediately wanting to know why he knows that piece of information.

“I am a man of science,” Eskel grins and winks, and Lambert almost spits out his mead.

Ciri and Yennefer are slowly bonding, their first lessons taking place by the giant lake below the keep.

Jaskier takes care of his lute, works on new material, and with Vesemir and Eskel’s help, looks for new routes for the Sandpiper to take.

Geralt finds him more often now, seeking out his company rather than just tolerating it.

For a moment, Jaskier had expected him and Yennefer to fall back into bed as soon as the air was cleared, but if they have, they never said.

Instead, Yennefer spends more and more time with Ciri, trying to work out ways to control her power when they realize just how strong the young girl already is.

Sometimes they all do things all together.

They go ice skating.

They lose a snowball fight, pelted until they yell for mercy.

Jaskier finally learns of the hot springs, much to his outrage.

“You mean I could have dipped into preheated water all along?!” he yells, waving his arms around dramatically, and is rewarded when Ciri snickers, and Geralt bites down a smile.

It makes something in his chest soar.

The walls from the past year are slowly being torn down.

Deliberately so, in fact.

Piece by piece, Jaskier decides to let Geralt in.

It’s not perfect. It’s painful and it’s terrifying to let himself be open to hope again, to trust that there is friendship this time.

~

When Geralt learns about the firefucker, he is gone for an entire day.

Jaskier has no idea where he went, and he is feeling terribly vulnerable after talking about it, hands shaking and heart racing. Yennefer finds him outside her workroom, and she pulls him inside, cursing Geralt all the way.

“Let him sulk,” she says. “If he can make a hardship his fault, he will. When he gets his head out of his ass, he’ll come back.”

Later that night, Jaskier hears Yennefer rip Geralt a new one for leaving like that, when Jaskier clearly was shaken up and shouldn’t have been left alone.

Ciri learns about the firefucker days after, and angry tears roll down her cheeks when she realizes what Jaskier went through for her, even before they met.

They sit on the bridge outside the gates, feet dangling over the edge. The air is cold enough for their breath to fog, and Ciri’s slightly damp hair to freeze.

Jaskier thumbs her tears away and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“The whole world could be at my heels, and I would do it all again to keep you safe.”

“Sometimes, I just want the world to burn.” Ciri whispers, and Jaskier tucks her into his side.

~

Geralt calls him his friend now.

It’s good.

Jaskier gets to borrow a horse, and they go out riding in the snow around the keep. They argue about whose turn it is to do the laundry, and who is the worse cook. 

When the window to Jaskier’s room breaks for reasons Lambert and Ciri swear up and down they know nothing about, Geralt simply moves him into his own.

The bed is wide enough for the both of them, which makes Jaskier think of who else might have shared it before him, but he pushes that thought down.

It has no place here, nothing to stand on.

They actually interact less after sharing a room, both of them needing their own space during the day.

They learned that after a vicious fight, where Geralt found all Jaskier’s sore spots once again and pounced.

“Do you ever tire of your own voice?!” he asked nastily, and that shut Jaskier right up.

He slept in the main hall for three days, until Geralt actually apologized.

After that first apology, the rest came a little easier.

They talked about what happened on the mountain. They talked about Jaskier’s past, and Geralt confessed that sometimes, since way before the dragon hunt, he thought Jaskier was only following him for the stories, for the fame it brought him.

It was Jaskier’s turn to apologize, for not seeing that, for not respecting privacy and boundaries set. He realizes he might have been blind to Geralt’s reactions to his songs, distracted with the fame their association granted them.

“But,” Jaskier says,”Not once would I have left you, even if you never lifted your sword ever again.”

To this, Geralt admits to how he always expects to be abandoned, or to be left behind.

“The thought of you leaving, or dying, it’s terrifying. I don’t think I could piece myself together again. So I left first.”

It’s like a kick in the chest, when Jaskier realizes.

That is the first night they actually sleep close on purpose. Geralt is a nasty little blanket thief, but Jaskier makes due by simply curling in close.

~

Midwinter comes, and a new year grows on the horizon. Darkness grants them a perfect view of the stars above, and the snow a blanket to let the world sleep.

Jaskier still is not allowed to join them on hunting trips, but he is getting good with a bow, under Vesemir’s sharp eyes.

~

Another sleepless night, another early morning, at the first light of dawn, when the first rays find their way through the dirty windows of Geralt’s room, that is when Jaskier dares to press a kiss to Geralt’s forehead.

Convinced that the witcher is asleep, he leans on his elbow, tracing a wild strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a quick kiss, dry lips against warm skin, making Jaskier’s entire body ache.

This is why he feared bringing down those walls. This is why he withstood the bruises, an armor to keep his heart at bay.

He doesn’t expect Geralt to open his eyes and gaze up at him. Doesn’t expect Geralt to wrap a hand around his neck and pull him down, pressing a kiss of his own to Jaskier’s forehead.

Resting against Geralt’s chest, Jaskier draws in a shaking breath.

“Ask me, Geralt.” He whispers into the dawning day.

“Do you love me?” Geralt whispers back, arms tightening around Jaskier’s back, pulling him closer.

“I do.” His voice wavers, eyes stinging. “Where do we go from here?”

“Wherever we want to. We’ll figure it out.”

“Geralt?”

“Hm?”

“Do you…?”

Jaskier doesn’t dare ask. Too scared of the question, even more scared of the answer.

Instead of replying, Geralt rolls them over.

Now he is the one leaning on his elbows, hovering inches from Jaskier. They are so close, he can feel every breath Geralt takes, see the pulse jump in his throat.

Instead of replying, Geralt kisses him.

A surprisingly chaste kiss, lingering and soothing and earth shattering and heart wrenching.

“I do.” Geralt whispers finally, lips brushing together. “Whatever that will do to us, I do.”

~

Come spring and the first visit to the village below the mountain, Vesemir finds him with ten envelopes and a small box.

The box is a set of strings and pegs and lute varnish they couldn’t get before the pass closed this winter. Most of the letters are from Pricilla, updating him on what is going on in Oxenfurt and the Sandpiper network, all well coded.

Jaskier realizes he can’t stay anymore.

The world around them is growing ever more restless and chaotic, and the only way to be prepared is to be out there.

Parting with Geralt is harder than it ever was before.

Being alone is dangerous, but being with them is even more so.

He has an organization to run. Stories to tell. Lies to spread.

During the winter, Jaskier came to realize how he can make a difference. On the road, with a lute on his back, in inns and taverns, the way he always did.

As they part, on a crossroad that finally will lead them to part, they stand next to new Roach and Pegasus, arms wrapped around each other and foreheads pressed together.

“Ask me,” Jaskier whispers.

“Won’t you tell me?” Geralt whispers back, making Jaskier huff and smile.

“I won’t make it that easy for you, witcher.” He teases, and Geralt steals a kiss, humming softly into it.

“So I’ll have to come find you then, and ask you to tell me again.” Geralt mumbles against his lips.

Jaskier will hold him to that.

Words held back until they meet again.

The road is long, and full of dangers.

Jaskier hopes it will lead him to Kaer Morhen once more.

[eskel-loves-lilbleater]

Geralt/Triss or Eskel/Triss?

If I have to chose between those two and ONLY those two, then I definitely go with Eskel/Triss. I feel like Triss & Geralt's relationship, both from the books and the games, has SO many issues that it's rather toxic. I don't hate it, I just think they can do better.

That being said, my actual preferred pairings?

Yennefer/Triss:

Completely fan-based, I know, but I feel they meet on a more even level, have comparable life experience, understandings etc. I think they are better for each other and make each other better, than most of the alternatives.

Geralt/Jaskier:

I mean, it's really Geralt and ANYBODY else BUT Triss or Yen but I understand why him and Jaskier are such a popular pair. Again, they make each other better, for the most part.

I also like Geralt/Eskel and Geralt/Regis however, if I had to pick faves?

Eskel/Regis:

Bloody absolute rare-pair and I don't get it. Lots of people adore Geralt & Regis together (which I get) but I think Eskel would be an even better match. The love of books and philosophy, animals and simple pleasures. And we KNOW Eskel would not have the slightest issue with Regis' species affiliation. Big, brawny Eskel would LOVE someone who can take and give back like a Higher Vampire. Feral Eskel getting all protective and Regis finding it adorable because he REALLY doesn't need it. They would be so sweet together.

Lambert/?:

But what about the youngest, surliest wolf? I mean, any combo of Lambert/Aiden/Voltehre/Milena, I just eat that shit right up. Absolute GIVE ME MORE and I will be happy. (Big thank you to @inexplicifics for creating so much of this and inventing Milena. Big happy spot in my heart!!)

Or Lambert/Eskel lol

Other fave pairings:

Letho/Gaetan

Vesemir/Guxart

Ivar/Keldar

And why is there so very little love for Arnaghad? I need giant bear love!

<3

[formerly-geraltshumblebard]

"my child is absolutely fine"

no it is not. henry cavill is leaving the witcher.

[random-apollo-child]

Jaskier geralt ciri yen and some other witchers walk into a town

Jask: I've been here before.... let's leave

Cöen: why do you wanna leave

Lambert: bard, what did you do

Jask: I- *scoffs* why in the world would you think I did anything

Geralt: jask what the fuck did you do

Yen: you very clearly did something

Jaskier the chaotic neutral bard: I may or may not have set a few building on flame

Ciri who thought jaskier was a lawful good person: *Spits out water* you fucking what??

Papa vesmir concerned: bard what the flying fuck

Jaskier the white wolf's bard: it happened like 7 winters ago

Eskel: what the FUCK

[quinemajo]

I made fanart for "A Hoard of Witchers" Witcher fanfiction

[finnyphcntom]

notorious.

--------

Chapter One : The Word Hate

--------

Did he over exaggerate? Yes. But something inside of him just.. felt weird when Dandelion was shamed upon. Geralt wasn't that bad of a dude, especially to Dandelion.

Lambert hated to say- yes, hated, that word again. He hated that he actually enjoyed Dandelion's presence.

--------

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : oh but id lovee to convince you. maybe we can get a lil tipsy and ill go home with you, yeah handsome? ;)'

--------

Lambert was... notoriously known, for many things. What things? Well, the list is long, but here is the simplified version;

Being a bitch.

And then there was... well, thats about it.

He hated, hated, just about... Well, all? Of Geralts friends. Eskel would always say, "hate is such a strong word,"

Well no shit. He knew that, used it for a reason.

Speaking of hate, he hates when they hang out.

He was rather tired of everyone hanging out without inviting him. Yeah, he'd decline with a 'fuck no' or 'i hate triss lol' but, hell, he still wants at least an invite.

But no one bothered to invite him anymore.

They act like he doesnt know, isnt aware, of these events. Hes heard them talk, all because hes 'too angsty.'

Be real. If they had an Aiden, and then said Aiden died, theyd he angsty too.

Which, he will say, Geralt does have his Aiden.

Dandelion.

Lambert hated to say- yes, hated, that word again. He hated that he actually enjoyed Dandelion's presence.

And do you know what he hates even more?

That hes jealous.

He hates that he's jealous, and hates that he doesnt know what over.

Over Geralt? Maybe.

Over Dandelion? Maybe.

The fact that Dandelion gets invited to hangouts? Maybe.

Oooor the fact that Geralt, who treats Dandelion like shit, gets to keep his best friend. And he doesnt. Bingo, baby.

Well, okay, maybe it was a mix of all four.

But no, he heard of this party that was happening at Yennefer's house. How could he not? Kiera informed him alllll about it.

And another thing he was known for; not only being a bitch, but a petty one at that.

He was going to show up at that damn party.

~~~~~~

Lambert expected many things in his day. To fold clothes, deal with shitty customers, fold clothes again, to fix registers because somehow no one else knew how to do that, and then to again, you guessed it, fold clothes. Oh, and deal with shitty customers.

And then, he would go home around 3pm, just to clean horse shit and feed the goats on the farm. Only sometimes would he find holes in his perfectly good jeans.

But what he didnt expect? His phone to light up with a text. Ever since losing his girlfriend, he hasnt had a single text, other than from Eskel.

Eskel was a family man. Soft, sympathetic. He thinks he would have a little bit more trouble lying and hiding stuff behind his back. He thinks any of these people who are hosting these parties, throwing the- his phone dings again.

Oh, right. He was so used to a lonely phone that he forgot it went off.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : hey lambert, i know we dont really talk but what time is that party tomorrow? ive got a performance that day and want to arrange an uber ^-^'

Holy fucking shit? It had to be Dandelion. No one else in the group was talented enough with music to perform it.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : also!! how come u never go? :('

That was the second message.

Did Dandelion not know?

What does he do? He hated to say that his heart was racing. Why was his heart racing? It was just Dandelion. Just a rising celebrity with like seven degrees- from Oxenfurt no less- and his brothers best friend.

His heart was fucking racing. Does he be cool? Does he be mysterious? Should he even answer?

No, no he had to answer.

The few times hes talked to Dandelion have been.. amazing, actually. Of course, Dandelion had an issue with talking to strangers, and also, well, sleeping with strangers, but that was fine. Lambert felt like Dandelion enjoyed talking to, well...

Lambert.

Not Geralts brother, not a bitch (which he will admit he is,) not a depressed, angsty man who practically lives in his room at the farm he grew up on. Which he was.

His phone dings again. Shit.

Lambert grabs his phone off of his car mount this time, sitting in the parking lot of his shitty retail job at Cavill's Combat.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : oh shit my bad i probably shouldve clarified. this is dandelion im sorry'

Be chill Lambert.

'lambert : heyy yeah no youre good lol'

The multiple y's were cool? Right? Showed he was calm. One Y was boring, three was excessive. Right?

'lambert : as for the party, i have no clue thats a geralt question.'

He decides not to answer the second question. For now.

He puts his phone back on the mount and his car in drive, pretending like he didn't flinch at the sound of the bluetooth connecting.

His phone dings again, and he cant answer, but he does peak at the message.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : well i wou .. geral ... mad ... ignoring me ...'

That was all he could see for now. Quit frankly, that was all he needed to see.

Did Geralt ignore Dandelion whenever he was mad?

My brain was shut off upon hearing the first Hollywood Undead song start.

~~~~~

When I arrived home, I was bombarded with questions. Eskel was that type of man.

"How was your day at work?" He said from the kitchen, where Lambert was trying to sneak on by.

"Long." Lambert said. "Henry wasnt there."

His boss. Whenever Henry was gone, Lambert had to pick up all the shit- as an assistant store manager.

"Didnt have to fix anything today though, right?" Eskel said.

What a fake fucking bitch, Lambert thought.

"So... do you want me to fix you something to eat?"

He heard it, but didnt register it.

Being the odd one out was quite the funny thing. He lost his best, childhood friend of 14 years in his sophomore year of college to suicide.

He drops out of said college. Decides to start therapy; ends up getting sent to a psych ward.

And now hes working at some shitty fucking retail job; and still working at his adoptive fathers farm.

Yeah, life was fucking great. A ball of fucking sunshine.

Eskel was a doctor. Geralt was a successful Butcher, working under their adoptive father.

And he was a depressed man with a shitty retail job.

"Hello? Lambert?"

Without thinking, Lambert grabs the nearest item which just so happened to be a decorative vase, squeezing it tightly...

"How are things since you ended it with Kiera?"

and throws it.

Right at Eskel.

He's rather lucky it misses. Shatters all over the ground instead of on Eskel's mass.

"You're fake. Did you know that? You're a liar. You're a fraud. Stop with the fake fucking persona that you care about me."

And with that, he has no choice to storm away.

~~~~~

In his room, hes able to check his phone again. The text from Dandelion was sitting there, menacingly.

'lambert : does geralt always ignore u when hes mad at u?'

With how busy Dandelion was, you werent expecting an immediate response.

But you get one.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : typixally he tellsme to fuck off and rhats how i know hes mas at me'

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : u should go :( ive never seen u there, i know u dont like me'

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : but i got a few tricks up my sleeve to convince u too ;)'

It takes Lambert a bit to decipher Dandelions absolutely awful typing. For a man with an english degree, he is sure as hell bad at English.

Lambert kept reading the, 'i know u dont like me.'

Who the fuck told Dandelion that? Because Lambert has never, not once, discussed any sort of dislike for Dandelion.

If anything, Lambert actively defends his name. He remembers all the times Geralt spoke about ignoring Dandelion, called Dandelion annoying.

Lambert would always stick up for him.

Were there any good reasons why? He had a bunch, personally.

One, and the biggest reason, was that Lambert would kill in cold blood to be able to talk to his best friend again.

Two, is that Dandelion was a good person with good morals. And incredible talent. Dandelion deserved love and praise, not hate from his closest friend.

Three, he was oddly drawn to Dandelion. He didn't know why.

Did he over exaggerate? Yes. But something inside of him just.. felt weird when Dandelion was shamed upon. Geralt wasn't that bad of a dude, especially to Dandelion.

But it's common decency not to talk shit about your best friend when the person you're talking to lost theirs to suicide.

Kind of inconsiderate, Geralt.

'lambert : lol who told you that? i like you'

He suspects it was Triss. Maybe Yennefer had assumed? Lambert didnt really like anyone, it was a safe assumption. But Geralt knew- knew Lambert actually at least tolerated Dandelions presence.

He even told Geralt that he wanted to be Dandelion's friend. That Dandelion reminded him of Aiden. He opened up to Geralt, surely his own family wouldn't do him dirty like that?

Dandelion didnt answer, and Lambert didnt know why, but it disapointed him.

'lambert : i gotta know what those tricks are though, care if i ask for a little more convincing? ;)'

Lambert was going to shit his pants.

First, he double texts. Which is fine, because Dandelion like... quadruple texts. But then he had to hit on the man.

It was playful, right? It wasn't gay. Playful. A game.

Why was his heart racing again?

He was straight anyway.

~~~~~~

Eskel was full of concern at the dinner table when Lambert didnt show up. There sat Geralt and Vesemir, but Lamberts seat was eerily just.. empty.

"Lambert skipped his farm work today," Vesemir said, taking a bite of his mashed potatoes, before grabbing salt and shaking what seemed to be half the bottle in it. Taking another bite, he seemed satisfied.

"He didnt respond to my texts at all. Read every single one, too." Eskel said. "And he..."

Eskel did not want to throw Lambert under the bus. Not when it seemed something was seriously wrong.

"I had to pick up his fucking slack," Geralt said. "Seriously, this kid needs to grow up. We all work in jobs we don't like. I don't like slaughtering pigs and looking at blood, and I'm sure that Eskel doesn't like performing surgery. But we aren't babies about it."

Geralt was chewing into his food like a rabid animal, clearly angry. The steak that was on his plate was massacred, cut up and stabbed.

The walls at Kaer Morhen were pretty thin. The farm itself was nice, but the house wasn't in the perfect condition. It was pretty, but old, some of the rooms half-finished.

Therefore none of the men were surprised or so much as even flinched when Lambert yelled, seemingly speaking to his T.V screen and taking his anger out on Overwatch.

90% of Lambert's free time was spent on video games. It used to be with his girlfriend, Kiera, but she slowly started avoiding him.

He hardly noticed the change. It was gradual; slow, but eventually he caught on. She wasn't the same.

For his own sake, he left her. He will admit, he loved her, but it wasn't hard. She messaged him once every few days.

"He broke up with Kiera, Geralt." Eskel says. "And now hes having a rough time. Maybe we should cut him some slack."

"Don't really care. Shouldn't of been as toxic as he was." Geralt said.

"We should try to understand Lambert. He comes before a girl, Geralt. Put those events with her aside, it's clearly driving a wedge between the three of you."

They could hear Lambert; which means Lambert could hear them.

Toxic? That was funny. He devoted everything to that girl. She ran a small business he would fund- which typically took his full paycheck from Vesemir. Other than that, she didn't really work. He paid for everything.

Toxic was funny.

"Lambert was too much stress on her. Shes a girlfriend, not a therapist. Girls don't like emotional guys, I cant help that." Geralt says, sharply and angrily.

"Lambert hardly talks about emotions." Eskel corrects.

"Sure as hell corrects me all the damn time about them. Sick of him calling me ungrateful and shit. I cant control his losses." Geralt said, with a tone that ended the conversation there.

~~~~~~

Toxic was funny. Really, really funny. Was it toxic to correct your brother on his own toxic behavior?

Lambert didn't understand.

Geralt. A man who ran everything in his life with his dick, not his brain. Who cheated on women, who verbally abused his friends. Who ignores his so called "best friend" because he's mad.

Thats actually not really that bad, but whatever. Lambert was mad, and petty, and wondering why Dandelion hadn't answered him.

Why was he thinking of that? Not okay, Lambert. He's busy. Probably recording music and getting yelled at by his directors.

Toxic was funny, when Lambert was so loyal. When Lambert tried his best to fit in, he just genuinely never did.

Toxic was so, so funny.

His mind ran off, to a different place, one where theres grass and tulips and roses and fuck- Dandelions.

Dandelion.

Would Dandelion prioritize Lambert over Geralt? Sure, they'd talk. But when he's mad at Geralt. When Geralt's not around. He would be a rebound for a best friend.

Just like he was to Kiera.

He had just won a match when his phone dinged and lit up three times.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : hi ! sorry had to finish up recording a song for my album. stupid director :(

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : oh but id lovee to convince you. maybe we can get a lil tipsy and ill go home with you, yeah handsome? ;)'

Lambert was kicking his feet, giggling, and squealing like a high school girl. Well, his face was stoic, but mentally he was there. Mentally he was going insane.

He had never been hit on deliberately like that. Like stated before, he was the odd one out. With Geralt and Eskel his brothers, he was known as the ugly one of the family.

He was surprised when Kiera wanted him. Him, out of the three. He had made the move, god forbid a woman make a move on him. But she still accepted- still chose him.

She used to fuck with Geralt a couple years back, back when Geralt and Yennefer would cheat on each other. He always had girls left and right. Kiera, Yennefer, Triss, and boy, did he have a shit ton of one night stands.

He wasn't surprised when Kiera got distant. It hurt at first, but he realized one thing- thats life. She lost interest.

When people normally got to know him, they would see Geralt and run. They'd lose interest in him, all of the sudden. But Geralt would never take them from him though, he wasn't that bad a person.

And he wasn't a bad person either. But Geralt's best friend currently hitting on him? It shouldn't make him feel giddy inside. It shouldn't make him so happy that it felt like someone had chosen him over Geralt.

He couldn't help but smile.

But it was playful. It was all playful.

He couldn't help but feel his smile drop, as he went to read the last message from Dandelion. His face contorted in anger; wanting to lash out all over again.

'+1 xxx-xxx-xxxx : it was geralt. glad to see youve changed ur mind tho! <3'

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Tag Game. Ot4 4 and heat bombard please 💞

I talked about Heat Bombard a little here.

OT4 4 is the sequel to Hanging Out With the Right People and 30 Days With the Bard. It's pre-Eskel/Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer with a Jaskel focus and background Geraskier and Eskel/Geralt/Yennefer.

There isn't much of it yet, just an outline and a few short snippets, but here's the beginning:

For the third morning in a row, Eskel is awoken by a noise that could easily pass for the mating call of a royal archgriffin. “Melitele, Geralt, oh gods, your mouth—” “For fuck’s sake,” Yennefer grumbles, voice muffled. Eskel rolls over onto his back, glancing over to see his lover poking her head out from beneath her pile of blankets, looking adorably disgruntled. “In his defense, Geralt does have a damn good mouth.” In the next room, Jaskier lets out another cry. He might be good to take on a griffin hunt sometime. Yennefer rolls her eyes. “No one’s mouth is that good.” “Hey,” Eskel says mildly. “I didn’t do half-bad last night.” That earns him another eye roll, which he probably deserves. “If he gets any louder, the keep is going to fall down around our ears.” “Kaer Morhen’s survived several thousand years, a Conjunction, at least two sieges. I think it can handle a bard.” “Can it?” Yennefer slips her head back under the covers. “If the noise keeps up, I may need you to stab him.” “Stab him yourself.”

WIP Ask Game

[swanimagines]

THE WITCHER AO3 SERIESES

EVERYTHING FOR THE WITCHER

Geralt of Rivia

Jaskier

Yennefer of Vengerberg

Lambert

Eskel (coming)

Tissaia de Vries (coming)

MISC

Preferences

(Any of the other characters don't have any requests written nor pending as for now, so I'm unable to have serieses for them as AO3 requires you to have at least one oneshot written to be able to add it to a series, and I can't promise serieses for characters who don't have requests pending/I have no ideas of my own for them)

For anyone who's concerned, THESE ARE NOT ONESHOT COLLECTIONS, they are made using AO3's "series" feature.

If you want to be informed about new fics for The Witcher or its individual characters, create an AO3 account and subscribe or bookmark any of those serieses listed above. There are buttons at the top right corner for those, or on top on mobile. I do not do Tumblr taglists anymore.

Also, if you're wondering, requests are ALWAYS open and you're welcome to leave one or multiple. Just remember to read my rules and pick a request type from this list.

[thedemonofcat]

Due to jurisdictional reasons, the Pankratz family owned part of Blue Mountain, which included Kear Morhen. Although the family allowed the witchers to use the area, they charged a small annual fee.

When Julian Alfred Pankratz, the young Viscount who had just begun to go by Jaskier, was twelve, his father took him along to Kear Morhen on one of his trips.

There, Jaskier met a young witcher trainee named Geralt. It was evident to anyone who observed them that Jaskier and Geralt were fond of each other. As one of the other witcher trainees put it, "Geralt is trying to impress the little lordling."

As a result, Geralt’s fellow trainees made it their mission to try and embarrass him in front of Jaskier as much as possible.

[glwstic]

Rec List 4: The Witcher

-  Worth More Than Your Songs by Chaos_Breeds

“Jask, you’re bleeding,” Geralt growled, his free hand starting to pat for injuries, and-

Jaskier relaxed a bit, slumping in relief. “Good morning to you too,” he greeted brightly, ignoring how raspy his voice was. “Damn witchers and their sense of smell. I’m fine, don’t worry, just my hands.”

The room froze.

———

In which Jaskier runs himself ragged, convinced he must prove his value.

Geralt and Yennefer will not stand for it.

Oneshot,  1,676 words

-  Defying the Odds by Chaos_Breeds

Geralt didn’t care to eavesdrop, really, even less than he wanted to hear another bawdy ballad. It was better to keep his eyes on his ale, stay out of trouble, and wait for Jaskier to be finished. “So how much longer do you think he’ll live?” asked the baron, drumming his fingers on the table. “Such clever songs. I hope we’ll hear another few years’ worth before he goes.”

Geralt immediately stilled, the performance fading into the background.

———

In which Geralt learns that traveling bards are one of the most dangerous professions for very good reason. He overhears some nobles betting on how long his bard would survive on the path, and Jaskier’s odds apparently aren’t good.

Geralt will be damned before that happens.

Oneshot,  1,705 words

-  Bard Assassin by Hyrulehearts1123, sageclover61

Collection, 8 works, 88,968 words

>>>  Edge of Nowhere by sageclover61

Jaskier needed no introduction to Geralt of Rivia, not when he knows who this Witcher is on sight. On the other hand, this is his opportunity to make a new and different name for himself, a guise within a disguise, and perhaps fame that'll hide the secrets that he keeps.

Oneshot, 1,361 words

-  why were you digging, what did you bury by ruffboi

"You'll be coming with me," his father said, rather abruptly and with no room for argument.

"I thought no one but the elders and the witch could know where the clearing is," Julian said slowly.

"This is your duty as my son and heir," his father snapped.

"Of course, father," Julian replied. "I'll be ready after supper." He wondered, a chill running down his spine, what this duty actually was.

Oneshot,  1,776 words

-  I Have Heart-Fire and Singing to Give by inexplicifics

Jaskier is invited to come and sing at Oxenfurt - an honor he has never dreamed he would be granted so young. But leaving Kaer Morhen has its perils...and there are those who would very much like to get their hands on the Consort of the Warlord of the North.

5/5 Completed, 23,311 words

-  And I'll go up, up to find us by thequeenofsong

Geralt's thoughts when he goes up the mountain after finding out about the husband hunters coming to Kaer Morhen. Also includes a flashback to the night in Redania after Geralt finds out Jaskier was sent as a sacrifice and Jaskier's confession of love. Inspired by Inexplicfic's Accidental Warlord AU.

Oneshot,  2,909 words

-  No More Monsters by ruffboi

When Geralt leads his army into Tretogor, they expect most of what they find.

What they don't expect is the near-silent, trembling figure they find tucked against the wall in Radovid's rooms after Eskel runs a sword through the bastard's throat.

Oneshot,  1,219 words

-  Dandelion Wedding Crowns by sageclover61

Twenty years after conquering Kaedwen, Redania sought a treaty with the Warlord of the North, and offered with it an arranged marriage.

Geralt, the accidental warlord of the north, would very like human nobles to stop doing monstrous things, like marrying off their children. Needless to say, the marriage won’t last. Now if only he could figure out how to help Jaskier and his sisters, too.

Inspired by Inex's AW AU and Pallidus' As long as the sun and moon are above.

Oneshot, 16,303 words

-  dead man running by peaktotheocean

Jaskier handed her the spare dagger and breathed easy when she took it without question. "Ciri, darling. We're going to get out of this dungeon together. You know how sometimes, humans call things monsters that aren't monsters at all? Rather just, things they don't understand?"

She looked at him with fierce determination in her eyes. "Yes, I do."

Oneshot,  7,512 words

-  Little Lark in Our Hearts by Chaos_Breeds

Based on inexplicifics Warlord!Geralt AU. Jaskier thought he was over what his father had done, when he was sent away as tribute to the White Wolf. During a conversation about sending tribute to another king, Jaskier realizes he very, very much is not okay.

Good thing he’s got a whole pack to help him through it.

———

(In which they get a stark reminder of Jaskier’s circumstances before becoming part of the Witcher’s keep.)

Oneshot, 1,604 words

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Witcher characters + monstertamer!reader

Summary: how characters from the Witcher would react to finding a person who has tamed monsters

Notes: i finally finished most of the drafts i had lying around and thought fuck it let's post them all. have fun with the new content!!

Taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins @lucyinthelibrary @sunndust (hmu to be added to any kind of masterlist!!)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Geralt

Probably found you bc he was supposed to kill said monsters in the first place

To me, Geralt comes across as someone who’s genuinely a good person

Idt he’ll kill your monsters, despite the money he was paid

Impressed, mostly stays to himself though

Yennefer

Obviously she wants to know how

You’re the only one on the Continent with this power and she wants it

It’s yen, what did you expect?

Will try to do even better than you

Jaskier

This is magical, magnificent, oh my!

Immediately writes a ballad of the enigma that tamed the monsters

Don’t let him get too close to them

Will ask for details to spice up his song

Ciri

She would try to kill the monsters in order to ‘protect’ Geralt

And frankly, she does not believe you at first

Will never get accustomed to the tame monsters

Her first instinct will always be that they’re bad

Eskel

In absolute awe

If he could do this, his job would be so much easier

Doesn’t care what others think, he’s always wanted to talk to a ghost

Does not want to kill them

Lambert

He’s like ‘ain’t no way bro’

So cool about it

Well if you can tame monsters

Then why tf does he still have to kill them

Coen

Super torn

He should be doing his job, instead he’s having tea with a Bruxa

Will probably end up killing the monsters

It’s his job after all

Vesemir

He needs to write this down!!!

Might like… froth at the mouth if you can’t tell him how you did it

TELL HIM

Comes back from retirement