Chapter Text
“Are you sure about this, Jas?” Essi asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
It’s fairly late in the evening and Jaskier is exhausted. He’s been running around all afternoon talking to various people and making the provisions necessary for the network to go on without him, as well as telling the Academy that he won’t be here for the spring term. He’ll still need to properly pack in the morning and try to find some basic travel gear for Maja at the market, but he’s now free of his obligations.
The last step was handing Essi and Shani the three notebooks full of coded notes that he’s kept about the network’s activities. Essi can read his musical notation-based code as well as he can – they developed it together during the year their studies at the Academy overlapped, when Jaskier mentored her. She’ll be the new Sandpiper.
His friends didn’t take the news as badly as he feared, but they both look worried. Jaskier can hardly blame them, given the state he came back in two years ago after that godsdamned dragon hunt.
“I’ll be fine,” he says.
He will be. Of course he will be. If there’s one thing he learned how to do, in all these years on the road, it’s to adapt to the situation.
Essi seems about to say something contrary, but Shani lays a hand on her forearm. They have an entire conversation in eyebrow raises and tilts of the head, which Jaskier doesn’t try to follow. Even after being back for two years, he still feels like he’s constantly playing catch up when it comes to his Oxenfurt friends.
That only cements his decision. As much as he loves them, his staying here was never going to be forever. The fire mage and now Maja only hastened the inevitable.
He feels a little guilty for leaving the network behind, but Maja needs to be his topmost priority. Both Essi and Shani agree with that, at least.
“We’ll miss you,” Shani says eventually.
“Me too,” Jaskier agrees softly. “It’s not forever, we’ll come back if we can, but I don’t know how long…”
“That fucking war,” Essi sighs.
“Will you be alright here?”
“Don’t worry about us,” Essi says firmly. “Focus on your little girl. We know what we’re doing.”
“Don’t get caught,” Jaskier says.
“Take care of yourself,” Shani fires back. “And Maja. That witcher of yours better not be an ass again.”
It’s hard to part with them. They’re his best friends, they have been for a long time – he’s known Essi for longer than he’s known Geralt. Not knowing when he’ll see them again…
They both hug him like it’s the last time, and all three of them are tearing up by the time Jaskier leaves their flat to go back to his own. He takes a long moment on the landing to compose himself before he walks in.
It’s late enough that everyone is asleep already. Ciri is laid out on the small couch and Geralt is at her feet in his bedroll. The light of the crescent moon falls on his silver hair and his pale skin, and Jaskier halts his tip-toed steps for a moment, drinking in the sight. It’s been too long since he’s last watched Geralt sleep.
Once upon a time, he wrote entire odes to this face. Now, he struggles to think of a single word. He hasn’t written anything new since the fire mage kidnapped him.
Silently, he moves around Geralt’s body to reach the bedroom, candle in hand. Maja’s small sleeping form is nestled under the blankets, awaiting him. Yennefer has curled up on the rocking chair in the corner, and Jaskier jumps when she moves, yawning.
“I didn’t mean to fall asleep here,” she whispers. “I just wanted to…”
She makes a vague gesture toward Maja, and Jaskier nods. If she feels the pull of Destiny as strongly as he does, he’s not surprised that she wanted to be as close as possible.
“It’s fine,” he says, putting his candlestick down on the night stand. He strips out of his jacket and his waistcoat. “Come on, the bed is big enough for the three of us.”
“What?”
“You’re going to sleep terribly in that chair or on the floor. I would have given you and Geralt the bed, but I don’t want Maja to wake up in a strange place. Especially since I’m upending her life again tomorrow.”
He sighs and sits down to pull off his boots.
“You’re doing the right thing,” Yennefer murmurs, coming to sit beside him.
Jaskier twists around to look at his daughter. He reaches out and pulls a strand of hair away from her face. “Does it make me selfish? To want to go with you rather than settle somewhere safe for her?”
“No, Jaskier. I would… I think I would make the same choice. I am making it, in a way.”
Jaskier bites his lip. “She deserves a home, though. A safe, stable place where she can grow.”
Yennefer’s hand finds his arm. Jaskier can barely see her face in the candlelight, only the outline of her nose and a glint in her eye. “This city was your safe place, wasn’t it?” she says. “And you ended up building a resistance network and getting kidnapped and tortured. I can understand that you don’t trust the idea of another safe place where you’d be on your own.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“We’ll keep her safe. We’ll do everything we can.”
“Thank you,” Jaskier sighs softly.
“I think…” Yennefer pauses. “I’d do it for you even if she wasn’t my Child Surprise, Jaskier. When… When I heard you scream, at the docks, when I saw your lute on the floor, I just…”
“I don’t think you’re my worst enemy any more,” Jaskier whispers.
Yennefer’s shoulders shake with laughter. “I should hope not, husband.”
“Come on, let’s go to sleep. We have a long day ahead.”
It doesn’t take Jaskier long to fall asleep, curled up around Maja as has become his habit, with Yennefer spooning him. The bed isn’t large enough for any other arrangement, but Jaskier doesn’t think that’s the reason why Yennefer’s arm finds its way around his waist.
*
Leaving is bittersweet.
They set out so early that the sun has barely come up over the horizon, and Jaskier hasn’t had anywhere near enough sleep. He’s done his best to explain to Maja that they’re going on an adventure while packing their few belongings, but he’s not sure how much she actually understood.
He slips his key under Essi and Shani’s door after locking up. Nothing here belongs to him. The flat will be assigned to someone else for the spring term, and no one will worry about Jaskier the bard disappearing for another summer on the road.
But he won’t be coming back any time soon. Jaskier only allows himself one look back at the Academy’s tower, peaking above the street buildings. Maja is silent in his arms, still half-asleep.
He takes everyone to the farmers’ market on the outskirts of the city, rather than the more upscale one on the city hall square or the fish market by the docks. The sky is grey and oppressive, though it’s not raining quite yet, and Jaskier stumbles through the streets, burdened with the weight of Maja and their bags slung across his shoulders, his new lute the lightest of them.
“I think we’ll have to get a horse and a cart,” Geralt says suddenly when they reach the first stalls. Those are the first words he’s uttered today.
Jaskier looks at him sharply. “Won’t that slow us down? And what about Roach?”
There’s a beat of silence, a look shared between Geralt and Ciri, that clues Jaskier in.
“It might slow us down, but it will be better if Maja can travel on the cart with one of us,” Geralt says quickly. “Roach… She died on our way to Ellander.”
“Sh—shoot,” Jaskier lets out. “She was getting old, but…”
“A monster got her,” Ciri says.
“A chernobog,” Geralt adds, his voice almost quiet enough to hide how it breaks on the last syllable.
Jaskier fixates his gaze on a point above the stalls, willing himself not to cry. Roach was a constant companion for so long – he can hardly imagine Geralt without her. Being with Geralt without her. He reaches out blindly for Geralt’s hand.
The past couple of years have been full of grief, but it never gets easier.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers to Geralt, meeting golden eyes.
The witcher squeezes his hand. “Me too.”
Shared grief is a lighter burden to bear. There is gratitude in Geralt’s gaze, thankfulness that Jaskier feels this loss as strongly as he does. Of course , Jaskier wants to say. Twenty-two years of friendship can’t be erased so easily.
But the moment fades away, and Geralt drops his hand to make his way down the street. Half an hour later, they have a horse – a nameless bay mare, tall and sturdy, ready to draw their new cart all the way to the Blue Mountains.
“What shall we name her?” Ciri asks almost immediately after offering her half a carrot.
“Roach,” Geralt says.
Yennefer snorts. “Seriously?”
“He names all of his horses Roach,” Jaskier explains. He’s only known two Roaches, but he roasted Geralt for months when he first learned this about him.
“Really?” Ciri asks. “Why Roach? It’s weird to name a horse after a bug.”
“Not the bug, the fish,” Geralt grumbles.
Ciri squints at the mare. “She doesn’t look much like a fish.”
Jaskier laughs. In his arms, Maja squirms a little, now properly awake.
“Want to walk for a bit?” Jaskier asks her in a whisper.
She pushes her little hands against his chest, a clear command. Jaskier puts her down, glad to relieve his tired arms.
“Don’t let go of my hand, okay?”
She pulls on his hand until they’re about three feet away from the mare, who sniffs at them curiously. Maja jumps back and collides with Jaskier’s leg in fright.
“It’s okay, bud, she won’t hurt you,” he says, crouching down. From her height, the mare must look huge and scary, he has to admit.
“She’s never been close to a horse before?” Geralt asks.
“Probably not. Have you ever petted a horse, bud?”
Maja doesn’t answer, but she stretches a hand out toward the mare, cautiously.
“Yes, that’s it,” Jaskier says. He picks her up once more and slowly approaches the new Roach. “Keep your hand out like that.” He signs one-handed at the same time. “This is a horse. Horse.” It’s a simple sign, two fingers wiggling by his forehead imitating a long horse ear.
Maja’s little hand makes contact with Roach’s muzzle almost accidentally, and she screams and hides her face in Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier isn’t entirely sure whether she’s frightened, overwhelmed, or simply surprised. The placid mare doesn’t budge.
“Look,” he says, petting Roach’s head. “She’s not hurting me. She likes it.”
Maja holds out her hand again. Jaskier gently guides it to Roach’s white forehead. “There. We pet in the same direction the hair goes, alright? Not back and forth.” Maja obeys readily, transfixed as she runs her hand down the mare’s coarse forehead hair. Roach is patient and steady.
“Ho’se,” Maja says suddenly. She stops petting her to wiggle her hand close to her head.
“Yes, she’s a horse,” Jaskier laughs, making the sign again.
“Horse.”
They wiggle their fingers at each other for a while more, and a curious Ciri joins in, trying out the sign. Her rendition is far more precise than Maja’s, but a little stilted. Yennefer and Geralt watch them from a way away.
Later, when they’ve stacked several days’ worth of food and supplies in the cart, Jaskier arranges a little nest of blankets for Maja, more secured and comfortable than the seat but close to the cart driver. He stacks his lute case where it can’t accidentally be kicked out, briefly opening it to check how the untravelled instrument is holding up to the ambient humidity.
“That’s not your lute.”
Jaskier starts and almost collide with Geralt, who was leaning over his shoulder.
“You startled me,” he lets out.
“That’s not your lute,” Geralt repeats word for words – he’s nothing if not persistent.
Jaskier turns his back to him again and pinches a string, purposefully using his burned fingers. It stings. He lets go.
The lute is doing fine. Jaskier, less so.
“It’s gone,” he says in a whisper.
“Gone?”
“I shouldn’t have brought it with me, but I didn’t have time to drop it in my room, I thought it’d be fine for one night, it was my fault—”
“Jaskier.”
Jaskier looks back at Geralt’s tone.
“What happened to your lute?”
“The… the fire mage. He used it to knock me out. He…” Jaskier unthinkingly scratches at his hairline, the goose egg and the cut mostly healed. “He smashed it over my head.”
Geralt’s face turns to stone. “He. Knocked you out. With your own lute,” he grits out.
Jaskier nods without a word. Once upon a time, seeing Geralt this angry on his behalf would have made him feel loved.
It leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
“What else did he do?” Geralt asks, still cold and restrained.
Jaskier hides his hand behind his back before he can think about it. “Not much. Yennefer swooped in and saved the day before it got bad.”
Of course, the only thing his move did was attract Geralt’s attention. He grabs Jaskier’s arm, his strong grip settling on Jaskier’s wrist – and Jaskier freezes.
The fire mage’s fingers were more slender, less gentle, but they’re all Jaskier can feel. The rope around his wrists – there’s still the shadow of a bruise peeking out of his sleeves, weeks later. He stumbles backward and hits his elbow hard on the edge of the cart.
“Jaskier!”
Geralt’s strong hand catches him. Jaskier’s skin burns, and he doesn’t know if that pain is real or a memory. He rights himself and looks anywhere but at Geralt, wrenching his hand away, trying to catch his breath.
A few feet away, Yennefer is crouching beside an utterly uninterested Maja, trying to show her something. Maja just rocks on her heels, fascinated by the swoosh of her skirt. Frantic laughter bubbles out of Jaskier at the sight.
“Jaskier?” Geralt asks again, hesitant this time, concerned.
Jaskier steels himself and turns back to him. “Sorry.”
“Your hand…”
Of course he saw. Jaskier swallows and makes himself unclench his right hand, straightening his fingers until the shiny pink skin stretches painfully. “It’s just a few burns.”
“It’s been weeks.”
“And in a few more, I’ll be able to play again. Nothing, in the grand scheme of things.”
Geralt recoils, looking almost stricken. “That fucker,” he swears under his breath.
“Geralt—”
“He did this because of me. I should have been there.”
Jaskier closes his eyes to gives himself strength. “Geralt, as much as I am still mad at you for what you said, that was not because of you, any more than it was because of Ciri. I assume you don’t blame her for being hunted by half the Continent?”
Geralt opens his mouth, and closes it again. He shakes his head reluctantly.
“I didn’t know exactly where you were. I wouldn’t have told him if I had. But ultimately, his motives for… torturing me are the same as every other person of his ilk: he enjoys it. You are not responsible for that.”
“Hm.”
“What you – what we are responsible for, is doing our best to protect them,” Jaskier gestures toward Maja and Ciri with his burned fingers. “My fingers will heal. Being with you should help with the… panic episodes, and the nightmares. Don’t twist your head worrying about me or feeling guilty.”
“I…” Geralt hesitates. He stays silent for a moment, then he squares his shoulder. “I’m sorry for taking so long to come back to you,” he settles on.
Jaskier knows his smile is a little sad, a little wistful, but – well, he’s entitled. “Come here,” he says, opening his arms.
He can barely remember the last time they hugged, but Geralt’s biceps press against his arms, and his hair tickle his nose. Jaskier breathes in his scent and tries not to break on his shoulder.
“I didn’t mean what I said,” Geralt says, almost too softly to hear. “Life without you is… very quiet and boring.”
“Are you calling meeting your Child Surprise and becoming a father boring?”
Geralt grunts and pushes him back. “Shut up, Jaskier.”
“Right. Right, doing that right now.” He smirks and switches to sign language. “You can’t stop me.”
“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Geralt growls. “Where did you even learn signs, anyway?”
“A dear friend of mine is mute. Yennefer’s met him, actually,” Jaskier adds loudly.
Yennefer looks back at him, confused. “What?”
“Dermain. He guided you through the tunnels, didn’t he?”
“The elf? He said he was going to Cintra, that he was from… Gors Velen, was it?”
Ciri turns toward them at the mention of her former home, which leads Maja to look up as well. Jaskier keeps signing as well as speaking for her sake. He wants her to learn more than just isolated words.
“He often lets people think he’s a refugee to make it easier to trust him. He’s been a part of the network since nearly the start. He knows the tunnels by heart.”
“He almost got killed by a swamp monster,” Yennefer frowns.
“Apparently that one migrated closer to the surface for some reason. They’re normally only in the deeper tunnels. I don’t know, I’m not the monster specialist here.”
The conversation quickly devolves into a back and forth between Geralt and Yennefer about the monster, and Jaskier tunes them out. He shows Maja her little spot in the cart instead, and she curls up on the blankets for a nap.
Jaskier feels a bit like joining her, but he hops onto the driver’s seat instead. Ciri climbs on beside him.
“I’m glad you’re not dead,” she says with the kind of bluntness only someone her age can pull off.
“Me too,” Jaskier laughs.
“No, I mean, I just… Everyone else is gone. Everyone I knew before. My grandparents, Mousesack, all the guards and the servants and the courtisans… My cousins in Skellige are probably fine, but apart from that… But you’re here.”
“Oh, princess,” Jaskier sighs. He extends an arm, and she snuggles up against him. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t think I’m a princess any more,” Ciri whispers.
“I think that’s your call. You can be, if you wish to be. A princess in exile. But you can be anything you’d like.”
She stays silent for a long moment, their peace only intruded on by the sounds of Geralt and Yennefer’s argument – which has moved past the swamp monster and onto something that makes sense only to them.
“I think I’d like to be just Ciri, for now,” Ciri says eventually, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Then I’m very happy to meet you, Ciri. And you can come to me anytime you want to reminisce about Cintra.”
“Thank you, Jaskier. I’d like that.”
Jaskier exhales slowly, squeezing her shoulders. He’s passed on the Sandpiper mantle, if there is such a thing – maybe it’s time he also learns again to be just Jaskier.
Jaskier, new father and mostly retired bard, friend of witchers and sorceresses and young, frightened just-Ciris. That’s more than enough, for now.
*
The end of the day is trying. They set out from the city proper soon after noon, and they’ve had some trouble finding an isolated camp site so close to the numerous little towns and hamlets scattered around the area, but staying in an inn would be dangerous. By the time they’ve built up a fire and started on dinner, Maja is exhausted and fussy.
As Jaskier dreaded, the novelty of the “adventure” wore off when she realized that they weren’t going home to sleep. Maja’s distress soon turns into crying and screaming, and she refuses to get into a bedroll or even be picked up, lashing out whenever Jaskier tries to approach her.
Powerlessness is the worst part of parenthood, Jaskier is quickly learning. Seeing your child hurt and not being able to do anything about it. Maja can’t tell him what’s wrong, and he doesn’t know how to help her. Ciri is looking increasingly distressed by Maja’s cries, and Yennefer and Geralt are just as lost as he is.
He settles for sitting cross-legged as close as she will allow to where she’s curled up on the floor, and singing. He starts with The Starless Sky, and after a couple of runs-through, moves on to other lullabies he knows, and then a couple of quiet ballads. Maja’s heart-wrenching cries slowly subside until all that’s left is drying tears on her face and a rasp in her breath.
Eventually, she falls asleep. Jaskier waits until her breathing evens fully before he picks her up to lay her on a bedroll. She didn’t have dinner, but he made sure that she had snacks to munch on through the day, so she shouldn’t wake up from hunger. He gently wipes her face and sits there silently for a while, listening to her soft exhales.
When he looks up, Yennefer meets her gaze.
“Will you come eat?” she asks softly, gesturing at the bowl in her hand.
Jaskier sighs and moves closer to the fire, making sure that he can still see Maja’s sleeping form in case she wakes.
He doesn’t taste his food at all. It’s good fare, fresh vegetables and meat they got at the market, leagues better than what they’ll be eating in few weeks, but Jaskier mechanically stuffs it into his mouth and swallows back nausea.
“Will Maja be okay?” Ciri asks in a very low voice, pushing back her own bowl.
“I think she’s just having a hard time adjusting,” Jaskier answers. But he can’t be sure, and that’s what eating at him. What if she’s sick or hurting beyond that and he misses it?
“You’re doing your best,” Geralt says in his gravelly tone, and Jaskier looks up at him sharply.
Geralt’s eyes flicker toward Ciri with the same concerns, the same fear in the downturn of his mouth. Jaskier nods at him, trying to convey his understanding through his gaze.
Later, when Ciri has gone to bed too, a few feet away from Maja in her own bedroll, Yennefer scoots closer to Jaskier. “I’ve seen children her age before,” she says, nodding toward Maja. “She’s different.”
“Yes,” Jaskier says curtly. He’s on edge, too tired to examine why his hackles raise so easily. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Is it something that we should worry about?”
Jaskier considers the question for a long moment. His gut answer is no, she’s perfect the way she is , but he can understand that Yennefer needs more.
“She’ll need more… understanding,” he says slowly. “She might start speaking more later, or she might never really learn. She gets overwhelmed easily, as you saw. But she doesn’t need to be fixed. ”
“No, of course not,” Yennefer says immediately. “That’s not what I meant. I just… When I was a child, I was told that the reason I was… the way I was, was because of my elven heritage.”
Jaskier tilts his head. “The way you were?”
“I was born different, too. Physically. A crooked spine.”
Jaskier blinks, tries to slot that into his growing understanding of Yennefer. “You… changed yourself?” He’s heard of the transformation sorceresses go through to make them beautiful, everyone has. He just didn’t think it was real. Sure, Yennefer is a beauty, but…
“I didn’t understand the consequences of that choice, at the time,” Yennefer grits out. “I thought it was the only way to get the life I wanted. Turns out I sacrificed the one thing I couldn’t get back.”
Jaskier stays speechless for a moment. Yennefer’s gaze is heavy on him, as if challenging him to say something.
The one thing she couldn’t get back. The one thing she’s spent decades chasing.
He looks back at Maja.
“I don’t think it’s anything to do with elven blood,” he says eventually. “It runs in my family. I have a couple cousins who don’t speak at all, and a little brother who was a bit like Maja as a child.”
Some of the tension in Yennefer’s shoulders eases. “So you know how to help her.”
Jaskier laughs. “Not a clue. But I’m starting to seriously doubt that any parent knows anything.”
“Hm. I feel that pull, but it’s like I can’t connect with her.” She pauses, looking oddly vulnerable. “Am I… am I just bad at this? You’re so good with her.”
“She’s known me since she was born, even if I wasn’t around all the time,” Jaskier says. “And even then, we had a hard time at first.”
“Worse than this?” Yennefer gestures vaguely between him and Maja.
“Much worse. We were just starting to settle down. She doesn’t do too well with change, and she lost almost everything she knew. I don’t know how much she understands of death, but she misses her mother and her uncle.”
“And now we’re making her leave it all behind again.”
“Yeah.”
They stay silent for a moment, watching the fire crackle and waver. Geralt’s eyes shine in the firelight, and Jaskier knows he was listening, though he didn’t make a noise.
“You aren’t bad at this,” Jaskier says eventually, answering Yennefer’s earlier question.
But he doesn’t look at her, and he’s not entirely sure who he’s talking to. Geralt is so tender and yet so hesitant with Ciri, even after months together. Yennefer seems afraid to let herself have the one thing she’s wanted for so long. Jaskier himself feels like the worst parent in the world, watching his daughter scream and flinch away from him.
They’re doing their best. He can only pray that it will be enough.
*
The next day, they leave the villages for the open fields. The journey through Redania and then Kaedwen will be long and harrowing, and they won’t be able to take breaks in inns and taverns along the road, not with the people after them. Yennefer’s slowly recovering magic will give them some measure of comfort, especially when it gets colder, but they have to use it sparingly. And a portal, even if she were able to make one, is too easily tracked.
Jaskier looks at the road stretching out in front of them. They can do it, he thinks. They can make it to Kaer Morhen. And whatever they’ll find there…
They’ll be alright.
Having been freed down from the cart to stretch her legs while they let Roach take a break, Maja is currently being chased around by Ciri, squealing in laughter. Jaskier’s heart melts to see them together. His daughter and Geralt’s, two decades later… who would have thought?
Geralt’s thoughts seem to be going in the same direction, because their gazes meet over the cart, and the corner of his mouth rises.
Ciri finally catches Maja as the little girl skids to a halt in front of Yennefer.
“Got ya!”
She seems to understand instinctively that tickles, or even just taking Maja unaware by picking her up, wouldn’t go over well, and she just crouches and claps her hands. Maja excitedly claps back and laughs. Yennefer hovers, unsure what to do.
They’re only feet away from where Roach is munching on a patch of grass, and as Maja calms down, she becomes transfixed with the mare. She takes a few steps forward, and then falls on her butt when Roach turns her head toward her, just as curious. Maja’s eyes go wide. “Horse,” she signs, her eyes seeking Jaskier.
She finds Yennefer instead, who freezes briefly, then hesitantly imitates the sign. Maja flaps her hands and runs up to her. She grabs a fistful of her skirts and start pulling her toward Roach.
Yennefer catches Jaskier’s gaze, who nods. He goes to grab a carrot from the cart while Yennefer lets herself be manhandled. Maja holds out her hands at her.
“She wants you to pick her up,” Jaskier murmurs to Yennefer as he sidles up to her and slips the carrot into her hand.
Yennefer gives him a panicked look, but she leans down to pick Maja up and settles her on her hip. “Hey,” she says. “Do you want to give Roach some food?”
Maja’s little hand flaps excitedly.
Yennefer holds out the carrot with her free hand. Roach, seeing it, immediately comes to crowd them. Maja squeaks and buries her face in Yennefer’s shoulder.
“It’s okay,” Yennefer says softly, as Jaskier forbids himself from intervening. “She’s just hungry, see? She likes carrots. Do you want to give it to her?”
Maja raises her head.
“Hold out your hand. Keep it flat, like that.” Yennefer carefully deposes the carrot in Maja’s hand, keeping her hold on it. “There. Her teeth are really far inside her mouth, see? So she can’t bite you if your hand is flat.”
Maja listens attentively, her tongue sticking out. She holds the carrot out to Roach, then, predictably, squeals and lets it go as soon as Roach bites into it. Yennefer catches it before it falls, letting Roach grab it properly.
“Flat!” Maja shouts.
“Yes, well done!” Yennefer says. “You did it!”
Jaskier and Ciri clap their hands, laughing. Yennefer meets Jaskier’s gaze, and there’s a sense of wonder on her face that Jaskier would never have understood a couple of months ago.
He grins back.
*
Bonding takes many forms.
It’s everyone taking turns at riding on the cart with Maja, and her starting to trust them.
It’s Yennefer kissing Maja’s forehead the first time Maja chooses to climb onto her lap for the evening story time.
It’s Ciri patiently teaching Maja how to high five, until she can do it reliably – it’s the two girls randomly slapping their hands together amongst peals of laughter for reasons none of the adults can discern.
It’s Jaskier leading Ciri and Maja through singing exercises and children’s rhymes. Learning to control her voice helps Ciri in her magic lessons, and in turn, Yennefer joins them when they’re singing.
It’s Geralt making Maja a little wooden play sword so she can follow Ciri everywhere and imitate her even during her training.
It’s sharing food and space and thoughts. It’s Geralt hunting for food for them all, it’s Jaskier teaching Ciri to cook over the fire, it’s Yennefer magically mending their clothes.
It’s the weight of the guilt and the resentment slowly lifting, until it settles between them and becomes nothing more than memories.
It’s the five of them huddling for warmth at night, Geralt and Jaskier cradling their daughters between them, Yennefer in the middle.
It’s Jaskier bouncing up in the morning and kissing each of them hello – “in order of size,” he says, starting with Maja and ending with Geralt. It starts with quick, surprise pecks on his cheek, but day by day, the kisses are more genuine, more passionate. Eventually Ciri has to teach Maja to make disgusted noises to separate them.
Yennefer doesn’t like kissing much, but Jaskier never misses an opportunity to brush her hand, to bump her shoulder. He hugs her whenever she’ll let him. She stretches out on his lap while he sings.
It’s watching Maja’s signing improve in leaps and bounds, quickly surpassing her speech and allowing her to express herself in full sentences and nuances beyond what Jaskier imagined. She’s already a bit of a poet, and by the light of the fire, in the evening, he’s filled a few pages of his notebook with little stories she’s told them. She accompanies her signs by singing what seems like random words, snippets of lyrics and phrases she’s heard, unrelated to the situation. Understanding her isn’t easy, but it’s a task that Jaskier gladly takes on, and his love for his daughter seems to grow with each day.
Yennefer is the most studious of his three speaking students of sign language. Jaskier himself is less than fluent, but he fills the gaps in his knowledge with guesses and inventions of his own, creating their own little language. Ciri is the most daring, unburdened by the fear of doing it wrong, while Geralt grunts his way out of making the signs himself but understands far more of them than he lets on.
Despite the rough conditions, sleeping out every night with only the limited protection of Yennefer’s magic, they thrive together. Some days are better than others, and there’s drama, meltdowns and nightmares – gods know they have plenty of trauma to share between them – but Jaskier can’t remember the last time he was this happy.
By the time they make it to the Blue Mountains, they’re a family. And they’re ready to take on anything that life or Destiny sees fit to throw at them.