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Leaving Kaer Morhen this time was a lot different than before.
For one, his brothers weren’t there, getting ready with him. They had left moons ago, while Geralt had stayed back, with Ciri, Yen and Jaskier.
Yen was set on teaching Ciri everything that she knew about Chaos. It took months, but she did it. Ciri was a fast learner, and Yen was a good teacher. At the end of it, when Yen didn’t have any lessons left, she didn’t have enough love for Gerlat, either.
It was alright. Their priorities have changed, in those months spent in Kaer Morhen. There were warm nights and soft mornings, but it wasn’t enough to make it last longer than it had. Geralt’s priority was Ciri, and Yen found something that she truly loved - teaching. So she left, with the promise to always come when they called.
And then there was Jaskier, who had no real reason to stay, but did it anyway. There were nights when Geralt heard him screaming himself awake, there were books filled with unsung lyrics, there were jokes and jabs, and the bard trying his very best to get to know Ciri, while staying out of the way.
She asked once, why was Jaskier staying around? Geralt didn’t know how to answer that, so he told her the truth. He said ‘for me’, and while Ciri frowned deeply, she never asked again.
Leaving Kaer Morhen this time was a lot different than before. It was summer and Geralt wasn’t alone. Ciri and Jaskier were with him.
None of them knew what the road would bring them, but they were willing to discover it together.
- Toss A Coin To Your Witcher
It took three contracts, two commissioned paintings and a day spent in a very busy market doing gods knew what, for Jaskier to gather enough coin to get himself a proper lute.
He was beyond ecstatic, with the instrument finally in his hands. It was a nice one, strong dark wood with a harsh design covering its front, straight lines crossing in angles. It was not as elegant as the one before, but to be fair, neither was Jaskier.
But some things never did change, and Jaskier was in the middle of the bed at the inn they were staying, speaking words of love to his new instrument while caressing it gently, intimately. If Geralt was a joking man, he would have found it hilarious.
‘Come on!’, Ciri cut him off strongly. ‘Let’s hear it, then.’
Jaskier’s eyes sparkled, looking with glee at Ciri. He got up and exaggerated greatly as he slid into position.
‘Any requests, dear audience?’
‘Something fun.’, Ciri suggested.
The spark in Jaskier’s eyes turned evil, as his eyes fell on Geralt.
When a humbled bard / Graced the ride along / With Geralt of Rivia / Along came this song
Geralt rolled his eyes, as Ciri’s grew very wide with glee and amusement. He didn’t say anything, as Jaskier went on with the song.
By this point, Geralt knew it by heart. He still knew it by heart, even if he hadn’t heard it in a long, long while.
He realized, then, that he had missed Jaskier’s voice. He will never admit it out loud, but he liked the bard’s singing. Even when he was singing of his own deeds.
Ciri liked it too, clearly. When Jaskier finished his performance with a flourish and a strong last verse, the girl clapped, before turning to Geralt.
‘Did that really happen?’
‘No.’, he answered quickly.
Jaskier made an indignant sound. ‘Excuse me, I was there. That is exactly what happened!’
‘Is it?’, Ciri was beyond amused, staring Jaskier down.
It took a few moments, but he did falter.
‘Well, it is close enough to reality.’
Ciri laughed out loud, a joyful sound, and Geralt couldn’t help the smile that graced his lips.
Jaskier kept mumbling under his breath, but he was ignored. Still, after Ciri stopped laughing, she got up and went to his side, playfully grabbing his shoulder.
‘Thank you, Jaskier, for the lovely story. Real or not, to be fair to you, Geralt would have never told me about it.’
Jaskier grinned at her. ‘Oh, have I got stories to tell you! Perhaps another day.’
Ciri smiled at him, wished them a sweet good night, and shut the door behind her.
When Jaskier looked at Geralt, he did a double take.
‘You’re smiling.’, he said with awe.
Of course, Geralt smoothed his expression into one more neutral, which made Jaskier roll his eyes.
- Her Sweet Kiss
The appearance of the lute meant the existence of performances. Every village they stayed in, every inn, Jaskier was there, singing along.
Geralt was used to it, before, and he got used to it now. More than that, Geralt was surprised by how relaxing he found Jaskier singing.
To be fair, that was what Jaskier did best: sing his stories. He was a different person entirely, with the lute in his hands and a fire in his eyes, his voice ringing loud, occupying the space around Jaskier like a second person, someone strong and impossible to ignore.
However, there were moments when Geralt didn’t want to listen to Jaskier sing. Most of the time, it was when he sang about him.
They were in an inn in the middle of nowhere, not a settlement in sight. It was a place made for travelers, and there were a lot of them there, a lot of different people.
Geralt felt watched, as he sat at a table with Ciri. It did not take long for him to notice the sorceress. She was very slim, unnaturally so, with long red hair and eyes so blue they were impossible to look away from.
He knew she was a witch, so he tried to assess her. Was she a threat or was she interested in him for other reasons, the more obvious ones?
The fairer sex, they often call it / But her love’s as unfair as a crook / It steals all my reasons / Commits every treason / Of logic, with naught but a look
When Jaskier sang the words, the woman locked eyes with Geralt. She smirked, a proud thing, and then it turned into a smile, predatory in nature.
‘Is this song about Yennefer?’, Ciri asked gently.
Geralt looked away from the witch.
‘Yes.’, he forced himself to answer.
‘So it’s about you and Yennefer.’, she went on.
‘Not quite. It’s how he saw us.’
Ciri hummed. ‘You keep saying that Jaskier’s songs aren’t true to reality.’
Geralt didn’t say anything.
‘I think this one is.’, Ciri said, gently grabbing his arm. ‘Or, at least, was true to reality at the moment it was written.’
‘It doesn’t matter anymore.’, Geralt said.
He also turned back to looking at the witch. She was still staring at him, an evident hunger glinting in her eyes. Geralt shook his head, as he wrapped an arm around Ciri’s shoulders and brought her to his side.
He really didn’t need a woman tonight. And he definitely didn’t need the drama that came with a witch. Not anymore, not again.
‘You can go.’, Ciri whispered. ‘With her.’
Geralt snorted, mildly surprised by her.
‘I could.’, he nodded. ‘If I wanted to.’
The story is this / She’ll destroy with her her sweet kiss
Jaskier kept singing, and yes, Geralt thought, there was truth to his song, and it applied in that moment. The redhead witch would, surely, bring him a moment of pleasure and a lot of moments of trouble.
He didn’t need either, not anymore, not with Ciri by his side, and Jaskier’s voice in his ear.
- The Golden One
Geralt grew to hate the song. Not because of Yennefer, the pain they both felt then, but because of Jaskier and all the pain he had felt after the mountain, all the pain Geralt caused and didn’t care about.
It was a regret of his, leaving Jaskier on that mountain.
They had talked about it the night before. They were sleeping in the woods, the weather warm enough for it. They stopped at a waterfall while there was still daylight, bathed in the lake and spent more time splashing around with Ciri. Geralt caught a few rabbits, Jaskier cooked them.
It was a nice evening, filled with laughter.
Ciri fell asleep quickly, but sleep eluded the two men. Jaskier gave up first, got up from his sleep rolls and walked a few feet away, to the edge of the lake. After a few moments, Geralt followed and sat next to him.
‘What troubles your thoughts, bard?’
Really, he knew better than to ask.
Jaskier met his eyes, and Geralt was surprised to see anger in them.
‘You’re my friend.’, Jaskier said strongly. ‘Nothing will change that, you have my word. But there are times when I’m reminded of that damn mountain, and I get very pissed off with you.’
Geralt opened his mouth, but Jaskier didn’t let him speak.
‘You apologized, which I appreciate more than you know, and I have forgiven you, but there are times when I forget that.’
He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, and then he smiled at Geralt. It was forced.
‘You are allowed to be angry.’, Geralt said slowly. ‘You have every right to be, it was a really shitty thing I did.’
‘Yeah, it was.’
‘It was even shittier after.’
Jaskier frowned at that. ‘What do you mean?’
It was difficult, but Geralt forced himself to say the words aloud. ‘I didn’t care. I didn’t care that I hurt you, I didn’t care that I left you there, that I ran from you. All that I cared about was her.’
‘Understandable.’, Jaskier said after a moment. ‘Painful to hear, but understandable.’
‘Painful to hear, but it’s the truth. And even more painful, I only cared again when I needed you, when I ran back to you.’
Jaskier looked away, hiding his eyes. But Geralt could still see the tightness in his jaw, a clear sight of anger. And pain, if he were to guess.
‘I regret it.’, he admitted. ‘I regret it as much as I regret not taking my child surprise when I should.’
Jaskier’s head snapped to him, he was evidently surprised.
Geralt smiled a little, at his idiotic expression. ‘I’m not doing that again.’
‘What?’
‘Leaving you.’
Jaskier’s mouth fell open.
‘I can’t promise it.’, Geralt went on, eyes skipping to where Ciri was sleeping. ‘I don’t know what the future will bring, but I don’t plan on leaving you again. Need or not, you’re my friend and that should and will hold more power over me.’
The bard tried to speak, but didn’t quite manage it. Jaskier, speechless? Impossible thing, but it happened, and it made Geralt laugh. He used two fingers to close Jaskier’s mouth.
‘If our paths diverge again, I think it will be your doing.’
‘I don’t want that.’, Jaskier said quickly.
‘I know.’, Geralt smirked. ‘We’ll see.’
Jaskier relaxed, letting out a slow breath. He also knocked their shoulders together.
‘We don’t know what the future holds, but I do wish to discover it by your side.’
Gerald hummed in acceptance, and didn’t move away when Jaskier’s hand made its way to his back.
In the next inn they found themselves in, Jaskier stared at him before starting his set.
The king called on the kingdom to gather all their best / To slay a mighty dragon because it was his pest
Geralt rolled his eyes, feeling a spark of annoyance.
‘I know about this one.’, Ciri said. ‘Yennefer told me.’
He froze, but only for a moment. ‘Good. I would hate to have to talk about it.’
‘Jaskier also told me about it.’, she went on, watching him.
He sighed. ‘I hate this song and I deeply regret everything that I did on that fucking mountain.’
‘As you should.’, Ciri grinned. ‘You were an idiot.’
He couldn’t argue against it.
- Song of the Seven
It was not often that Geralt didn’t know a song by Jaskier. He usually heard him rehearse every new song, improve it, change it. So by the time Jaskier sang it to an audience, Geralt knew it by heart.
Which is why he was very surprised when one night, Jaskier sang a song he had never heard before.
You're nothing, you're less / You're broken, a mess / Defeated and hopeless / You'll sink to the depths / The oppressors are mighty / Way greater in strength / Let history warn you / Resistance means death
It was a song about a story Geralt had heard before. Whispers, myths, stories to put children to bed. There were no books which spoke of this story, not even in the Kaer Morhen library. And what Geralt had heard, it was very different from what Jaskier sang about.
He was curious, like never before. And judging by Ciri’s look, so was she.
When Jaskier ended his set, he approached the table cautiously, hesitantly.
‘I know you wish to learn more’, he said, ‘and I will tell you everything I know, but let me have dinner before. And drink, I definitely need a drink.’
‘Promise!’, Ciri said strongly.
Jaskier smiled at her, very gently.
‘You have my word, princess. Even if I am sure you will not enjoy the story.’
Yes, Geralt was very curious.
After they ate, Jaskier ordered them all mead, and he drank half of his before he started speaking. He looked at the table as he spoke, and didn't meet their eyes. It was unusual to see Jaskier this serious, and it was unusual for him to speak in an almost whisper.
As Jaskier was saved by the elf Seanchai, as he told the story of the Seven, of the first Witcher, of the Conjunction of the Spheres, Geralt noticed that Jaskier did not embellish the story, not at all. It gave it a lot more credibility.
At the end of it, Ciri was crying softly and Geralt’s brain was working tremendously, trying to correlate the story he had just heard with everything he knew before.
‘Bard.’, Ciri said gently. ‘Do not ever think lowly of yourself again.’
‘Excuse me?’, Jaskier finally lifted his eyes, meeting hers.
The girl smiled. ‘You were chosen to tell this story. An ancient elf chose you to tell this important story, because they trusted you to tell it right. And trusted you to get to story to the ears of everyone who needs to hear it.’
‘I...’, Jaskier sighed. ‘Yeah. Yes, I understand what you’re saying. Thank you.’
Ciri shook her head, before turning to look at Geralt.
‘You didn’t know this.’, it wasn’t a question.
‘No, he didn’t.’, Jaskier answered for him. ‘There’s not a book in Kaer Morhen that speaks of this.’
‘There should be.’, Geralt said.
Jaskier nodded. ‘I’m working on it. The first draft is rough, but I am writing it properly. And you have my word it will stay in Kaer Morhen.’
Geralt knew Jaskier cared for him and for Ciri. That wasn’t an issue that needed thought. He also knew that Jaskier cared about history, about the written word, about preserving history. About stories.
But in that moment, Geralt realized that the bard cared about the history of the Witchers. It was… it wasn’t something he had ever thought of before. He had always felt a pang of frustration when Vesemir said ‘There isn’t enough data in our books’, and he only now realized just how much he had heard that over the years.
‘Thank you.’, he told Jaskier. ‘This is important. I don’t think I realize, right now, how important this is.’
The bard tilted his head, watching Geralt through slitted eyes. But before he got to say something, Ciri had asked a question.
‘Do you keep a journal? About your adventures with the Witcher? Beyond the songs you sing, I mean.’
Jaskier kept Geralt’s eyes as he smiled, but turned to Ciri.
‘I’m not much of a writer.’
Ciri snorted, because that was a big fat lie. Jaskier didn’t really answer the question, but Geralt knew that he had a ledger, thick and leather bound, that was close to disintegrating from use, but that Jaskier still wrote in every other night.
Before, Geralt would have made fun of it. Not now, though. Now, he thought that maybe, on his deathbed, he would be grateful that someone had written down the story of his life.
- Whoreson Prison Blues
Geralt had left them for half a day.
He had caught a contract, a small one, and he left Jaskier and Ciri in town, as he went into the nearby woods and hunted. He wasn’t gone more than six hours, but when he came back to their room, Jaskier was bleeding, Ciri was crying and they were both singing a stupid song Geralt had heard before from a prison cell.
‘What the fuck happened?’
‘Oh, not much.’, Jaskier grinned at him.
Geralt closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to remain calm. So he turned to Ciri and demanded she tell him.
Apparently, there was a witch. Tall and thin, with red hair and blue eyes.
‘I think I saw her before.’, Ciri admitted. ‘But I don’t know where.’
Geralt hummed. ‘In an inn, where Jaskier sang and you told me I could go with her.’
‘Oh!’, Ciri’s eyes grew wide. ‘Oh, but you didn’t go with her.’
Jaskier groaned. ‘Did she kidnap me because you didn’t sleep with her? Seriously?’
Geralt’s head snapped to his. ‘She kidnapped you?’
‘Yeah.’, Jaskier shrugged. ‘Tried to torture me.’
‘Tried?’
He shrugged. ‘Her nails on my back were pretty mild compared to firefucker.’
Geralt was in awe and slightly alarmed by how unbothered the bard was by yet another witch torturing him.
‘When I couldn’t find him’, Ciri went on, ‘I did a tracking spell.’
‘And you went on your own.’, Geralt’s anger spiked.
‘Yes, because if it wasn’t someone who knew how to hide their tracks against magic. So I deduced I could take them.’
‘And she did.’, Jaskier nodded.
‘I sent her to sleep.’, Ciri said proudly. ‘Well, I tried to. I would have gotten it, but Jaskier managed to set free his hands and he punched her.’
‘We took her to the prison. They’ve been looking for her, apparently.’, the bard said. ‘She keeps kidnapping men and leaving them all mutilated.’
Once again, Geralt took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
‘How hurt are you?’, he asked Jaskier, who shook his head.
‘Open cuts, basically. It'll heal in a day or two.’
‘And you?’, he asked Ciri.
‘Not at all, I’m just a little tired.’
‘Are you positive the witch is locked up?’
‘On her way to Deireadh.’, Jaskier nodded. ‘She won’t be seen again.’
Only then, did Geralt manage to relax. He sent Ciri to bed and got a bath prepared for Jaskier.
His back was covered in scratch marks. Clearly, the bard had downplayed it, probably for Ciri’s sake.
Once he was in the warm water, Geralt helped him, washed his back and hair. It was an intimate setting, more intimate that they’ve ever been before, but he found himself not feeling uncomfortable.
‘I’m sorry Ciri had to get me.’, Jaskier finally said, once he was clean.
Geralt hummed, sat down on the floor with his back against the bath.
‘There would have been no stopping her. She cares for you.’
‘I know.’, he could hear the smile in Jaskier’s voice. ‘And you know I care for her, right? I would never… I would take a sword in her stead.’
‘I know, but I hope you’ll never have to.’
‘Oh, so you don’t wish me dead?’
When Jaskier said it, Geralt startled very badly. In his haste to turn around, he dislodged the bath. When his eyes landed on Jaskier, the bard was grinning mischievously.
‘No, I do not wish you dead.’, he said strongly. It made Jaskier’s grin turn into a soft smile.
‘That doesn’t mean I won’t be the one to kill you.’, Geralt went on.
Jaskier rolled his eyes, but he was still smiling. ‘I don’t think I believe you, you just spent half an hour washing my hair.’
Geralt glared at him, but it was a lost cause.
‘You’re not unpleasant.’, he eventually told Jaskier.
The bard laughed at that, very loudly, so loudly it was impossible for Geralt not to smile, too.
When he calmed down, Jaskier leveled him with a look.
‘She was amazing today. I’m sure she would have taken the witch out.’
‘Yes.’, Geralt nodded. ‘She is a strong mage, and she will be a strong witcher. However…’, he tilted his head, looking for Ciri’s voice in all the hubbub of the inn.
Again, he couldn’t help but smile. ‘However, she is still singing your stupid prison song.’
Jaskier grinned. ‘She’s a kid, but she’s not that young of a kid.’
Geralt sighed deeply, feeling very tired all of a sudden. He wordlessly went to bed and a while later, Jaskier joined him. When the bard curled around him and wrapped an arm around Geralt’s chest, he let him.
- Burn Butcher Burn
For the past couple of inns, the townsfolk were requesting a song that Jaskier refused to sing. Geralt didn’t ask about it, but Ciri did.
‘It’s not… it is a song written by a broken heart’, Jaskier explained without looking at Geralt, ‘that has since been mended.’
Ah, so it was a song about him. Still, Geralt shrugged. ‘I won’t mind if you sing it.’
Jaskier stared at him, for a long while. But he didn’t say anything, he just shook his head and mumbled a ‘Maybe’. And that night, he fell asleep wrapped around Geralt again.
It took another four inns. The inn they were staying at was very large, and the crowd was very insistent on Jaskier singing ‘the butcher song’.
Jaskier relented, but before he started singing, he smiled at Geralt, clearly anxious about what he was about to sing. The witcher made a point to smile back, making Jaskier relax.
He took a deep breath, grabbed his lute, and his expression turned into one of disdain.
I hear you’re alive, how disappointing / I’ve also survived, no thanks to you / Did I not bring you some glee / Mister, oh, look at me / Now I’ll burn all the memories of you
The song was clearly written after the mountain. But fuck, it was such a good song. It was, in Geralt’s opinion, the best song Jaskier had written.
Yes, it was written from a broken heart, that was evident. But Jaskier had said the heart had been mended, which is probably why Geralt didn’t feel any negative feelings towards the song.
Fuck, he really liked the song. He fucking loved the song.
What for d’you yearn?
In the past moons, it had become pretty evident, for Geralt, that he yearned for Jaskier’s touch some days, for his heart other days. Maybe, one of these days, he’d gather the courage to do something about it.
‘Shit.’, Ciri said by his side. ‘This is good.’
‘Very.’, Geralt agreed.
They were silent until Jaskier was done. When he came to the table, he looked like he was ready for the chopping block.
‘So?’, he finally asked Geralt. ‘Should I fear for my life tonight?’
‘No.’, he answered gravely. ‘But you should sing it more often. It’s my favorite.’
‘You’re joking.’, Jaskier said dubiously.
‘I’m really not.’
Ciri moved the conversation away from the song at hand, and nothing else about it was said that night.
Geralt fell asleep wrapped around Jaskier, the bard’s hair tickling his chin.
- Secret Worlds
Jaskier was working on a new song. He was careful about it, too, not singing it if Geralt was around. Which, of course, made Geralt be very curious about it. He got sneaky, but still, all he got was a verse here and there.
Geralt wasn’t able to make way of it. He tried asking Jaskier a couple of times, under the cover of night. He never answered, but he always held Geralt.
And then, one night, they were in an inn. Just the three of them and another five people.
Jaskier played just one song, sitting on a chair in the middle of a makeshift stage. That song, though… It wasn’t as strong as Burn, Butcher . It wasn’t as soft as Her Sweet Kiss. It wasn’t as shocking as the Song Of The Seven. It wasn’t as funny as Whoreson Prison Blues . It wasn’t about the past, like Toss A Coin To Your Witcher .
It was about the future, and a surprising future. Their future. Jaskier did not look away from Geralt as he sang.
Didn’t the trees tell us their stories? Yeah, but we called them all liars / And they said “Come down now” / But we climbed so
High, high into the night
I look at those secret worlds you call eyes / And wonder if we might
There’s something changed / That leaves like broken shards of stained glass / Into our / Windows, oh, shining in your light
And on that tree I’ll carve your name / Cause in years to come, we both know we won’t be the same / You asked me to climb, I never learned
But if you ask me for my fire / Just watch me burn
‘Oh, it’s happening.’, Ciri said, at one point. Geralt couldn’t think of anything to say, he couldn’t even take his eyes away from Jaskier to look at her.
‘Yeah, it’s definitely happening.’
He was aware that she left, went to her room, but he was entirely focused on Jaskier.
After he finished the song, as Jaskier slowly made his way back to the table, Geralt couldn’t remember a word of this new song, but in his ears kept ringing an older song.
What for d’you yearn?
When he got to his side, Jaskier opened his mouth, tried saying Geralt’s name, but the witcher didn’t let him. Instead, Geralt grabbed his neck and kissed him, kissed him like he earned for so long, kissed him like the bard deserved it.
Geralt pulled away first, glad to see the surprise on Jaskier’s face.
There’s something changed , Jaskier whispered, to the tune of his song.
‘Has been for a while.’, Geralt nodded.
‘Yeah.’, the bard breathed out. ‘Good.’
He was the one to kiss Geralt for a long, long while, until the innkeeper loudly reminded them that they had a room.