Chapter Text
Despite the songs that Jaskier sung, and what the main public believed, Geralt wasn’t a womanizer, nor did he set off to woo women. Except Yennefer, she was always an exception, not the rule.
So, after another disastrous attempt at a relationship with her they had called it quits. For real this time. It wasn’t like the previous eight times where they’d said and done the same things. This time had had a finality to it.
It had been over three season changes since then and Geralt realised he had a new problem. It wasn’t new as in it had cropped up recently, this was an enduring issue, which he had only recently noticed he had. Jaskier was this enduring problem.
The bard had no concept of space, safety or secrecy. Jaskier was constantly within Geralts personal space, invading and touching the witcher with familiar hands. Safety wise all one had to do we see the excitement in the bard’s eyes at the mention of drowners and griffins to realise he didn’t understand or care for the risks they posed. As for secrecy, Jaskier tended to draw out any and every secret that Geralt had, whether the witcher wished to share it or not.
Geralt had spoken of the sacking of the witcher keep with the bard, told him of the Trial of Grasses, and of the still alive witchers he spent winter with. Things he hadn’t told Yennefer, things he had kept hidden within his mind around the woman.
Now, after some time away from Yennefer, Geralt had come to a realisation, one which he thinks he would have had earlier had he not been with Yennefer.
He was in love with Jaskier. His bard.
Fuck.
***
The next logical step, at least in Geralts mind, was to attempt to court the bard.
Jaskier hadn’t been with anyone on their travels since they had met up accidentally further east. Winter was approaching quickly and Geralt was readying his packs to return to Kaer Morhen whilst Jaskier was preparing to head south to Oxenfurt.
This parting of ways was not going to allow for much courting but would perhaps give Geralt space and time to sort out how to approach the bard.
“So, Geralt, brooding White Wolf of mine, any big plans for Kaer Morhen?”
“No. The usual training,” Eskel, Lambert and he would try to get Vesemir to spar with them and place bets on who stayed upright the longest “Debrief and tell the others of any monsters we slayed,” The annual dick measuring competition for witchers, who had the most or impressive kills “And talk about what the plans are for next year.”
When Jaskier turned to consider Geralt the witcher struggled not to fidget under those cornflower blue eyes. “Have you ever taken anyone with you? Any of you witchers I mean.”
“No. No one sides from witchers, and Ciri, have been to Kaer Morhen.”
“How is Ciri? She missing court life yet? Missing my singing?”
Ciri was, was the thing. She missed Cintra and her grandmothers court. The festivities and liveliness that came with being the Lioness’s granddaughter.
“If only it wasn’t Kaer Morhen, if it was elsewhere, I’d – “
“You could come.” What?
“What?”
“You could come, to Kaer Morhen. See Ciri and sing for her.” This was a bad idea.
Jaskier turned to Geralt from where he had been adjusting his pack on his horse. A full body turn to look the witcher in the eye. “Would that be allowed?”
Geralt didn’t know if it would be allowed. No one had ever done it before.
“There’s still some time until the cold sets in. Give me a week and I will send word if the others will allow it,” They wouldn’t. Especially Vesemir. “If after a week there’s no word you can still safely set off for Oxenfurt.”
With that they parted ways, Jaskier to a nearby town for an inn to stay at whilst Geralt and Roach set off to Kaer Morhen. Where Geralt was now to ask his brothers and father figure if they’d allow for his bard to stay for the winter.
***
Truth be told Jaskier fully expected to be told no regarding his staying at Kaer Morhen. He stayed at the inn that he and Geralt had discussed but didn’t do so thinking he would receive a rider within four days to escort him to Kaer Morhen.
Much less receiving a witcher, whom from the facial scars and wolf medallion he could guess was Eskel, to take him safely to the witcher keep. For the entirety of winter.
The first words that Eskel had imparted had been to tell the bard that if he was to make the journey then he would be stuck at Kaer Morhen for the entire winter. Snow, storms and other obstructions would prevent Jaskier from leaving before the end of winter. Perhaps even early spring.
Despite knowing the likelihood of his welcome not being warm, and that the winters were extremely cold that far north, Jaskier immediately packed, saddled his horse and was ready within the hour.
***
Travelling with two was always slower than with one. This became painfully evident to Eskel during his escort of Geralt’s bard.
The bard for who Geralt had stood before himself, Lambert, Vesemir and little Ciri to ask if they would allow for him to stay for winter. Who Geralt had made an entire case for and spoke at length of his character before Vesemir or any others could say that it was allowed.
It was the most any had heard him speak in one go. It was also the most panicked they had ever seen him. Eyes refusing to meet theirs, speaking to the ground by their feet, or the walls behind them, determined to get through his speech.
Determined to get through it, expecting to be told no.
Looking at the man riding beside him Eskel couldn’t quite see the appeal. The bright clothes were typical of a bard. As was the boyish nature of him.
But having heard his songs the witcher could gather that there was more than met the eye. Not many would follow a witcher, much less Geralt, into the heart of danger. Nor would many sing to build the reputation of witchers because they did good work.
He’d volunteered to bring the bard to the keep. Seeing Geralt and Ciri reunite, and then re-begin their training together had provided the perfect opportunity for Eskel to meet the bard alone.
If Lambert had offered Geralt would most likely have refused.
Eskel though had a ‘gentler’ nature. Much more suited to bringing a foolhardy bard into the clutches of the wolf witchers.
So far on their journey he’d learned that Jaskier could talk, a lot. That the bard had learnt the lute alone, then had an education for it. Also, he learned more about Geralt’s travels and kills than from the man himself these past years.
That was just from talking to him.
Watching him had revealed so much more than that. Just like watching Geralt mumble a speech about the bard had.
The bard was in love with his brother. And his brother was also in love with the bard.