Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“But what if I do want to know, Mama?” Jaskier asked. He was crawling into bed, and it was one of the rare nights that his mother checked on him and not the nurse maid. 

“What does it matter?” she sighed a bit. She had in fact fired the nurse maid for telling the boy about the curse. “We gave you a name. It is Julian.” But her mouth made an odd shape, like the word sat wrong on her tongue, and she had a hard coughing fit as well. Because it was a cursed name. Because it wasn’t his name. “It is fine.”

“But it isn’t my name. And you make that face and cough, or sneeze whenever you say father’s name, because that isn’t his name either.” He looked at her. “Wait, that means you and father aren’t soulmates, because if you were you would know what his name is!”

“Into bed,” she said firmly. “And his name is fine.”

“I am going to find my soulmate and they’ll say my name and they won’t make the face you do when you say Father’s name,” Jaskier declared.

“You are marrying the third daughter of -”

“No, I am marrying my soulmate,” Jaskier glared at his mother. “Because.”

“It really doesn’t matter. It is just a name,” she snapped. “Go to sleep.”

Jaskier stuck out his tongue, which earned him a spanking, but he didn’t care. He was smart, he had just turned five and could write the family name! And he knew that he would find his soulmate one day.

*

“What’s your name, cutie?”

Jaskier swallowed. “What would you like it to be?”

The barmaid looked him up and down. “You look like a Paul to me,” she said and she gagged. “Weird.”

“Yeah,” he sighed. “And if you like you can call me Paul.” It was wrong, but everyone was wrong. Sixteen now and no one had ever said his name. “I’m on my way to Oxenfurt to study, I’m going to be a bard.” He was to be studying law and history, to be of use to the family. But well, the family wasn’t going to be attending class with him. “I want to see the world. Find my soulmate.”

“Oh, cutie. Soulmates aren’t real,” she shook her head. “You find someone who can keep you warm, and a roof over your head, who you don’t hate the sight of.”

“Soulmates are real, and mine is out there,” he said firmly.

“To be young,” she laughed a bit. “I’ll fetch you some water.”

“An ale, please, and I’ll sing you a song of love and truth, and promises of destiny.”

“And what do you know of love, cutie?” 

“Not much, all my family hate each other. But I’ve read a lot of poems, and I am going to explore the world and learn everything I can about it.” He smiled and winked at her. “You want to teach me anything about love?” She laughed and he flushed a bit. But that night she showed him a lot and he fell a little bit in love. Like you should with the first person you fuck.

“You know I was wrong, you don’t look like a Paul. You look like a Ernst.” She coughed this time.

“Thank you for this night fair maiden. I know you’ll meet your soulmate one day.”

“World is going to eat you up,” she shook her head and gave him another kiss. 

“No, I am going to eat it up.” Jaskier swore.

*

“Julian,” his father’s mouth sneered on the name. To be fair, Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was just how the word was wrong in the mouth, or because of how much his father loathed him. “You will marry -”

“My soulmate, yes I quite agree,” Jaskier smiled. He had a lute over his shoulder and a small travel bag. “Glad we agree. Some money for the road while I am off to find them?” His father backhanded him, and Jaskier sort of nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Good, now go to your room and -”

“No, I’m sorry that you never had the guts or will or anything interesting enough about yourself to go out and end the curse. I’m sorry that for two hundred years our family has been gormless enough to not even try to end the curse. And I’m sorry that you were willing to settle for nothing when out there, there is everything.”

“Leave, and never come back, Julian.” Jaskier watched his father choke on bile as he said the false name. He took a vicious sort of pleasure in it.

Jaskier gave a deep bow, “It will be my pleasure,” he declared. “But uh - last few crowns for the road?” His father punched him and he figured that was a no. He had already stolen a couple hundred crowns, and a few little trinkets to help pave his way. He was sure that would last him for months on his adventure. It turned out that adventure on the open road was a lot more expensive than he expected, and what he had learned at university was not what people in taverns wanted. 

But at least sometimes they threw food at him, and then he got to eat. The bigger problem is that people weren’t very willing to guess at his name. He thought people would have more fun with it.

Mostly he was happy with what they called him, that it wasn’t his name. He had come up with a new name, he had tried for the first couple months to build ‘the nameless bard’ as a reputation but that went nowhere. But since he refused to go by his family name, he had decided on Jaskier. It was odd but people still made the face when they said it, it didn’t sit right, but there was less coughing or sneezing when it was used.

Perhaps it was closer to what his name actually was.

He wondered if he was a Jack or a Jakob.

Jaskier was stuffing bread down his pants when he properly noticed the man in the corner. He was interesting. Jaskier followed interesting these days. Well mostly he just followed the road but sometimes it was interesting. “I love the way you sit in the corner and…brood,” Jaskier said. He had not gotten any better at flirting. It was annoying.

“Hmm.”

“Comment on the performance?”

“Hmm.”

“Man of few words, I see. My name is Jaskier,” he said, and felt his mouth twist on the word. And the man was now actually paying attention. And so was Jaskier and oh fuck. “You are a witcher. I’m not a monster!” Fuck fuck, cursed people should not talk to witchers. They were supposed to run from witchers, just in case said witcher decided they were monsters and needed to be killed.

He wished he was surprised at himself when he sat down across from the man instead of running away. 

“I suppose saying I’m not a monster is not the best introduction is it.”

“You aren’t a monster,” the witcher said and finished his ale. He stood up and left without another word. Jaskier sat there for a moment and then realized fuck the witcher was getting away.

Jaskier ran out of the tavern and the man was not hard to follow being large with larger swords and dressed in all black. “How do you know I am not a monster?” He asked, huffing as he ran up. The witcher barely glanced at him. “Yes, yes, it is your job I suppose to know a monster at a glance. How does that work actually?” Jaskier kept talking asking questions. He noticed that he was annoying the witcher, but the man wasn’t moving the horse up to a cantor, leaving him behind. “I am cursed,” Jaskier said finally winding down.

“To talk beyond all sense, I figured,” Geralt nodded. “It is obvious.”

“Yes, exactly,” Jaskier said and then froze. “Oh wait, no. That’s not the curse. At all. Are you sure you are a witcher with that bad a guess?” 

“Hmm,” was all the man said and then there was a creature, and elves, and a new lute, and he wrote a song that he knew would bring in money at taverns. He wouldn’t have to eat the rotten food thrown at him. That would be nice. And he followed the witcher, who didn’t speak to him for a week. Jaskier figured it was a test. He had been excellent at tests at Oxenfurt. And he knew that if he stayed, if he kept following, the witcher might help him.

Jaskier had to admit traveling with someone for a month and having them not say a word to you, was a bit more of a test than he expected. But he was also fed and given the witcher’s pallet for sleeping, and they shared an inn room. Jaskier did start to bring some decent coin in and a paid for that room once or twice, but still the man never said a word to him. But he kept up. And he was developing really excellent leg muscles with the pace he was forced to keep.

But again the witcher never out distanced him in such a way that Jaskier couldn’t follow.

The fire was warm, and the rabbit on the spit smelled divine. “Are you sure it isn’t a curse to always talk? You even talk in your sleep.”

Jaskier smiled. He had passed the test. 

“Say my name,” Jaskier said. It would help prove his point, and Geralt in the month had never said it. 

“Jaskier,” Geralt replied and paused. “There it is. Why is your name cursed?”

“It isn’t? It is just not my name,” he explained. “Better than what my parents named me. When people would call me Julian, they sometimes vomited. Though that could just be that my father hated me that much.” Jaskier smiled. “What do you think I look like?”

“A fool.”

Jaskier laughed a bit. “Not so foolish. Or maybe I am, I don’t know. My family has lived with the curse for a couple hundred years. All male born children are cursed to not know their true name until someone guesses it. You can name them, but anything you do, people will have an almost allergic reaction.” 

“I’ve seen far worse.”

“That has been the family philosophy,” Jaskier sighed. He took the cooked rabbit when Geralt cut him off a haunch. “Who cares if your wife throws up when she says your name? She can still bring money and land, and breed.”

“You care,” Geralt guessed.

Jaskier nodded. “I don’t want to be hated. And if your name makes someone sneeze or cough, or even just look like you ate something awful, they’ll hate it. And eventually hate you because it is your fault. Someone just has to speak my name, and the curse will be lifted.” Jaskier wasn’t sure why he was changing it a little. That he wasn’t saying that the person who said your name would be your soulmate. He figured that maybe soulmate was just too fanciful a thought for a witcher. And he honestly wasn’t sure since it was his nursemaid who told him that. Perhaps it had just been a story to get him to sleep. Anyone guessing his name would be enough.

Fuck, he wished it was true though.

“Have you paid someone to say names?”

Jaskier blinked. “Oh well, umm. No.” He had always tried flirting and teasing and cajoling, and none of that had produced any results.

“Hmm,” Geralt said.

Three days later the whore was very confused when they both stood in front of her and asked her to say every single name that she could think of. “I’ve done a lot, but this is a new one. This gets the two of you off? Do you at least want me naked?”

“Just the names,” Geralt replied and crossed his arm. “I am sure you know many.”

“I mean if she wanted to be naked?” Jaskier said. “Ow.” Geralt had lightly hit him. “My good woman, please, just the names.” She did actually know an impressive amount of names, but none created any feeling in him at all. Nothing changed. It never changed. He gave her a low bow. “My thanks,” he said and started to leave. Geralt wasn’t though. “Geralt?”

“She should have better thanks than that,” Geralt replied.

“Oh, yes. Why you though?”

“Because it was my coin.”

“Right.”

Jaskier went downstairs and it was a bit dreary. He started playing his lute and he brought in a fair bit of money and the madam asked if he wanted a permanent job. That men would pay a great deal for him. He was honestly debating it, but then Geralt emerged from the room and said, “Let’s go.” And he followed.

Because Geralt had assumed they traveled together now.

Geralt who said little, wanted him around.

Jaskier smiled. “You are used to me!”

“One gets used to many things. Like ball itch, the smell of guts, stepping in shit.”

“That is the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“You need better friends.” Geralt mounted Roach, and they were walking out of the town.

“I know, that is why I found you,” Jaskier was whistling happily. Today hadn’t found him his name, but perhaps tomorrow would.

*

“Geralt?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are we headed north, when winter is coming?” Jaskier was cold. He had been for a week now. It wasn’t quite the first frost yet, but it was coming. Months of travel, paying whores to list names, and nothing was ever correct. But he found he didn’t mind. He had no urge to try a different way because then he’d have to leave Geralt. He didn’t want to leave his friend.

“Dropping you at Redania and I’ll go home for the winter. We’ll meet up again in the spring, figure out your curse.”

It warmed Jaskier up that Geralt was planning to see him in the spring, keep trying to help him. But there was one problem with that. “Umm, Geralt?”

“Shh -” Geralt said and did that animalistic head tilt he did when something was wrong. Jaskier pulled his lute into his lap, ready to protect it with his body. Geralt was holding his sword and then a shape burst out of the woods and attacked Geralt. 

“FUUUUCCCCKKKKKK!” Jaskier shouted. He had never seen anything get the drop like that on Geralt. He had seen Geralt get injured and monsters pin him, but nothing like this and it had Geralt face down in the hard ground. “LEAVE OFF!” Jaskier shouted, and the lute he had been willing to die for a moment ago, swung like a club at the thing attacking his friend. He connected and it didn’t knock him over but it did stun him.

Eyes pinned him, the shock evident in them.

“Witcher eyes, fuck shit shit. I don’t know who you are, but you cannot hurt my witcher.” Jaskier held up the lute ready to swing again. “Go away!”

“Your witcher? Geralt, are you a pet now?”

Geralt moved and easily flung the other man off. “Fuck off, Eskel.”

Jaskier then watched them hug tightly. So Geralt did show affection to people other than whores good to know. Also that meant he tried to murder one of Geralt’s brethren with a lute. He was fucked. “I’ll just go, then.” 

“Where?” Geralt asked. “It is night, and you can’t build a fire.”

“Besides I want to meet you very much. Not many humans defend a witcher.”

“I’m Jaskier,” he said.

“No you aren’t,” Eskel replied and moved closer. Jaskier went very still and Eskel sniffed him like a, well, wolf. Geralt was usually a lot more subtle when he sniffed Jaskier. “You have one hell of a curse on you.”

Jaskier shrugged a bit. “Whole male line does. Couple hundred years.”

“He’s the first to try to fix it,” Geralt grunted. “We’ll go back to solving the problem after winter.”

“What’s the problem?” Eskel asked. Jaskier explained, again leaving off the soulmate factor. Eskel tried to guess a few names but most were repeats and none spoke to him. “Hmm, so where are you going to winter?”

“I’m dropping him off in Redania,” Geralt said. 

Jaskier gave a half smile. “I’ll find a place to stay.”

“Why?” Geralt looked at him in confusion. “You went to school there. You have family?”

“You are as unwanted as we are, aren’t you Jaskier?” Like Geralt when Eskel said his name, there was a small flinch, twist of mouth, but no big allergic reaction. Jaskier checked the lute which had a crack in the neck now and didn’t answer. “Good thing we know a place where unwanted things can go?”

“A ditch by the side of the road?”

Eskel ruffled his hair. “Home with us to Kaer Morhen. Bet between all of us, we get you your true name by the spring thaw.”

Jaskier looked to Geralt, because he wouldn’t go if his friend didn’t want him there. Geralt just hmm’d and shrugged.

“That means yes,” Eskel pretend whispered. “This is a puzzle. I like puzzles! Hmm, Mikel? Orren?” Eskel sat there guessing for a while, and Jaskier wondered why Geralt was looking at him the way he did.

In the morning the three took the path to Kaer Morhen. To Geralt’s home. 

Jaskier was very curious about it, and held hope that maybe he’d have his true name by spring. That maybe Geralt would be the one to say  it.

Chapter Text

Geralt felt something ease inside of him when he could make out the walls of Kaer Morhen. Jaskier and Eskel were walking a bit ahead, chatting away. Eskel still trying to throw random names in and Jaskier always paused and then shrugged. The two must have gone through several dozen names by now, and none were ever right. But it was likely a fae curse - It was just too absurd to be anything else. And specific. Likely a foolish human refused to speak a fae name properly or something. And most people would try to solve a curse but apparently Jaskier’s whole line were filled with morons.

At least Jaskier was the type of moron who tried to solve a problem.

He was almost bouncing as he walked in the bitter wind next to Eskel, happy that someone was talking with him. Geralt had been so sure that the curse had to be he couldn’t shut up. He had never seen someone talk so much.

Geralt then realized that no, maybe Jaskier didn’t talk that much — it was just that Jaskier was the only person to talk to Geralt that much. Even winter with his brothers didn’t involve that much talking. He had thought his silence would drive the boy away, but he had been dogged. There were a few nights where he could have easily ridden away when Jaskier slept. The boy had zero situational awareness, and fell asleep like a rock, trusting that this almost stranger would keep him safe.

Geralt was sworn to protect humanity from monsters and he swiftly realized that Jaskier needed to be protected from the whole fucking world. And also maybe the world needed to be protected from him a little. Because Jaskier was fearless. And not in the way that witchers were fearless - years of training and potions, mutagens, tests all designed to remove fear as a thing they understand. 

Geralt was pretty sure that Jaskier had just never learned that there was more to be scared of in the world than not. He had spent months trying to solve the puzzle of Jaskier, and not come to any conclusions. He was curious if Eskel would - he had always been better with puzzles. But a winter at home should fit all the pieces together, get the boy a name, and in the spring they would part ways.

Eskel and Jaskier had paused to wait for him so they could enter together. 

Geralt smiled as the door opened and there was Vesemir. Eskel hurried over and went in. Geralt could hear the hug they were sharing. But Jaskier was hesitating. “Jaskier?” He fought the urge to clear his throat on the name, knowing that Jaskier hated the reactions when people said the false name. “What’s wrong?” Jaskier smelled worried, which he hadn’t even when they had been cornered by nekkers. Then it was brilliant, hands on experience makes songs so authentic. But now there was worry. Not fear, because Jaskier had apparently been born without that concept, just concern. “I know it looks shabby, but it is sturdier than it seems.” They had kept some of the ruin for show to hide how fortified the inside was.

“You tested me for a month. What if they aren’t as nice as you?” Jaskier looked at him. Geralt had to blink at that. Jaskier honestly thought he was friendly. That him having been quiet for a month believing it would get rid of the boy, was just a test. “We’re best friends. So, I mean they’ll not be really mean to me, right? And Eskel is very nice.”

“We’re not -” Geralt cut himself off. It would hurt Jaskier to deny their friendship. They weren’t friends, Jaskier was a puzzle, but no need to grow Jaskier's fretting. “Lambert can be a dick, but not cruel - it is mostly because he is so young. Vesemir is strict about routine, but listen and you’ll be fine and you are already friends with Eskel.”

“But what about the others?”

Geralt looked at the walls. “There are no others,” he said quietly. “Not in our school.”

“No wonder you were happy to have me around,” Jaskier nodded. “You were lonely. You needed me, like I needed you.”

“Hmm,” was all Geralt was going to say to that bit of insanity. “Come on, there is a lot of work the first couple of weeks, to prepare for winter. You will be fine.” He nudged Jaskier forward. When they stepped inside, Geralt closed and barred the door. He could feel that Lambert was already there. They were all home. Vesemir was watching them. “Sir, this is Jaskier,” Geralt introduced. He didn’t like how his name twisted on the word. He couldn’t fathom people willing to live their lives with that feeling.

“No, it isn’t,” Vesemir said.

“No, sir,” Jaskier squeaked out. “Curse. Here to fix it? I’m Geralt’s best friend.”

“I see,” Vesemir nodded. “Geralt with me please. Eskel will find you a room, boy.”

“I’m 19 now,” Jaskier said. “Hardly a boy.”

“I’m almost 300.” Or over, Vesemir didn’t like to be too clear on that.

“Really, wow I wouldn’t have said a day over 280.”

Geralt moved in front of Jaskier, ready to protect him as he had in many a bar or town square when he took offense. Jaskier took offense over very odd things. Another puzzle.

“He has spirit!” Eskel cheered. “Come on, we’ll get you a room near Geralt’s.”

“We always share at inns,” Jaskier protested and glanced over to Geralt. Geralt was relieved that Vesemir and Eskel were polite enough not to comment on the nerves that were pouring off Jaskier.

“Next to mine,” Geralt said firmly. He glared at Eskel who was two seconds away from laughing at Jaskier. Or Geralt, it was hard to say. “And make sure Lambert is in a good mood before you introduce them.”

“He’s never in a good mood.”

“You know what I mean,” Geralt growled. He was a bit worried about Lambert’s sharp tongue hurting Jaskier who seemed a little sensitive right now.

“I’m fine Geralt. I mean if your grumpiness and Eskel’s facial scars don’t scare me, I hardly think a few poor manners will do so. Remember that one tavern where a man threw a goat at me?”

Yes, Geralt remembered because he stepped in front of said goat to protect Jaskier. And in the few months the fact that the goat wasn’t even the oddest thing thrown at Jaskier should have had him leaving the boy. But he hadn’t. Vesemir cleared his throat and a raised brow, which had Geralt hurrying after him. 

“Wait, someone is actually in charge of Geralt, makes him heel?” 

Geralt almost stopped to challenge that, but if he delayed Vesemir would give him shitty tasks for readying the keep.

“Geralt is a good boy,” Eskel called loudly and okay, no.

“Geralt,” Vesemir warned. “Don’t let Eskel get you in trouble. Again.”

“This is going to be the best winter of my life,” Jaskier said with glee. “Do you think Vesemir will teach me how to make Geralt heel?”

“Oh, so that is how the two of you work, little surprised.”

“I don’t understand,” Jaskier said.

“I’ll be happy to explain it to you, little pup.”

“I’m 19!”

“Eskel won’t eat him alive,” Vesemir said when Geralt paused. “Probably. Unless the pup wants to be eaten.” Geralt growled a bit at that thought, and he couldn’t say why. “Hmm,” Vesemir replied and they went into his office. Something relaxed in Geralt at being in that space. It was filled with books and swords and smelled like wood and metal. “Tell me,” Vesemir said as he sat behind his desk.

Geralt explained the curse as he understood it from Jaskier. “Good thinking, going to people to have the names read,” Vesemir praised and Geralt perked up a bit. “And I trust you made a list so we don’t have to repeat ourselves.” Geralt’s shoulders slumped. No, they hadn’t exactly thought of that. “I see. Well while all of you prepare the keep for winter, I’ll work up a list. Make sure he works.”

“This is hard labour, he is a bard.”

“Meats need to be salted, things swept. Furs brought out from storage. He helps, or he suffers come the winter, Geralt.” Vesemir gave him a stern look. “He earns his keep just like everyone else.”

“Yes, sir,” Geralt nodded and headed downstairs. He followed the lute music and found Jaskier in the room across not beside Geralt’s. “Why that one?”

“I counted the steps, this is actually three strides closer to your room, in case anyone tries to murder me in my sleep. You’ll get to me faster.” Jaskier smiled at him. “Plus the bed was just a bit better.”

“No one will kill you in your sleep.”

“Tell me this place isn’t haunted.”

“Of course it is, but they won’t kill you.” Geralt gave as much of a smile as he ever did. “Maybe they’ll want you to write a ballad about them.” Jaskier’s face lit up at that, and Geralt hoped the thought of that would get him through the work ahead. “Vesemir said you have to work.”

“To be sure,” Jaskier agreed swiftly. “I’m happy to play in the evenings for all of you. Nothing would make me happier.”

“No,” Geralt sighed a bit. “Work work. To ready the keep for when the snow makes it so we can’t leave.” Months of travel and Jaskier couldn’t build a fire, and cried when he had to skin a rabbit. He thought of all the chores that needed doing. “Furs need to be taken out of storage and beat?”

Jaskier nodded. “I can do that,” he promised. Geralt showed him to the store rooms. He then went to check the stables, and do work there. Jaskier would be fine. He wasn’t that surprised when Eskel came an hour later and told him the bard needed help. Geralt went to find Jaskier and the furs were strung up on a line. So that was good.

He saw Jaskier’s first strike and sighed a bit. “Jaskier, you have to put your shoulders into it.” He went over and corrected Jaskier. “Surely, you’ve done this before.” 

“No. Servants.” Jaskier did better, though not by much.

“Picture you are protecting me from Eskel,” Geralt suggested and the swing finally got the dust moving. “Good.” Since he was there he helped getting four furs taken care of to Jaskier’s one. “Jaskier, do you have any practical skills?”

“I can walk enough to keep up with you,” Jaskier said. “And I can cheat fairly well at Gwent. How I won us that room and board in that town with the ghouls.”

“But for preparing a keep for winter?” Geralt was a bit worried. Jaskier hit a fur hard, and the dust and bugs all came out.

“I can learn.” 

Geralt nodded and they finished the blankets together.

Jaskier was incredibly smart, willing and determined, so everything Geralt or Eskel taught him, he picked up quickly. Vesemir was clearly watching even when they couldn’t see him, and Lambert ignored him except to make jokes about how useless he was. It annoyed Geralt because Jaskier was trying hard and collapsing every night from exhaustion. The day he scrubbed down the root cellar and patched up all holes, Jaskier fell asleep mid dinner. Geralt took the spoon out of his hand, and let the bard lean against his shoulder.

“Send him down, before the pass closes,” Lambert said. “Winter here will kill him. He is a weak little boy.”

Geralt glared at him. “He has been proving himself sturdy all week.” Jaskier’s fingers were not worn bloody just because of his music calluses. “If he leaves, I leave too.”

“He that good at sucking cock? Maybe he’ll share those skills.”

Geralt growled. The witcher school was about to be down one more member. 

“I’m great at sucking dick,” Jaskier said sleepily. “I think? I dunno. Only done it a couple times. But it was fun.” Geralt felt warm at hearing that, and couldn’t explain the restlessness that rose in his blood at the thought of Jaskier on his knees. “But I don’t do that with Geralt. He’s my friend.” Jaskier’s arms curled around him. “And I won’t do that with you, because you are a meanie. Catch more drowners with honey instead of vinegar.”

“Isn’t it flies?” Eskel asked.

“Flies where?” Jaskier looked blearily up and just shrugged as crawled into Geralt’s lap and fell back asleep. Geralt held him easily and ate around him. It had happened many a night when they were camping after a hard walk.

Lambert opened his mouth.

“The boy stays,” Vesemir said. “He has proven himself this week. He is weak yes, and we’ll all have to look out for him this winter, but he shows his willingness and work ethic.”

“Thank you,” Geralt said softly.

“Yes, we get to keep the puppy!” Eskel cheered. 

“Puppy? I wanna a puppy,” Jaskier whined not even really awake.

“No puppy, go back to sleep,” Geralt urged. He looked at Lambert. “Are you done testing him?”

Lambert smiled a bit. “Didn’t want you hurt, if he couldn’t stay.”

Geralt rolled his eyes a bit. His brothers were idiots, but they cared. He finished eating and carried Jaskier up, but when he was this exhausted, Jaskier tended to cling more than a vampire to a blood source. Geralt just put Jaskier in his bed, one night together wouldn’t be a problem. He read by the fire and listened to Jaskier hum in his sleep. It was annoying.

He had missed it.

*

A couple weeks later the keep was in better condition that it had been before. Mainly because Jaskier had switched gears. He left the actual prep to those who didn’t particularly get tired moving boulders, and instead made the keep a home. Branches were brought in and somehow formed into wreaths that decorated walls. Old tapestries hung, a seating area created in front of the main fire in the hall. Halls were swept more than they usually cared about, and soaps now had just the smallest hint of scent. Not overwhelming for witcher noses, but just something there. 

They all agreed it was nice.

He was also taking to cooking in the kitchen well, Vesemir had begun to teach him. It seemed Vesemir had decided that just like so many before, a pup needed teaching and he just couldn’t stop himself.

Lambert was still snarky, but it was the same as what he doled out to Eskel and Geralt, and in that Jaskier gave as good as he got. Geralt had heard Lambert even laugh once when Jaskier insulted him. And Eskel had decided that Jaskier needed to learn some self defense and that went poorly. Geralt was the one to bandage Jaskier up.

“You were supposed to duck,” he chided gently. Eskel felt horrible that he had hurt the puppy as he kept calling Jaskier. He almost wondered if Puppy was Jaskier’s name. That’s be a horrible name. “Puppy?” he said directly to Jaskier and he threw up a little in his mouth.

Jaskier laughed. “Well thank the fae that is not my name. It could cause a lot of problems.” 

Geralt finished wrapping up his arm. “Indeed. Do you want me to tell Eskel to lay off the lessons?”

“No, it makes him happy. And I don’t mind. I think my punching is coming along really well.”

It wasn’t.

But Geralt nodded. “What sort of name do you wish you had?”

“I don’t care,” Jaskier replied. Geralt just snorted at that, because Jaskier cared about everything. “Fair. I care a little. But it is mostly that it would be mine.”

“Hmm.”

“I mean if it was dashing and noble, majestic sounding, so that no one ever forgot it, I would not object.”

Geralt smiled a bit. “I was dropped at the door of Kaer Morhen. Geralt is a name I chose. I don’t remember what my mother named me.”

“Mine named me Julian,” Jaskier sneezed, and the snot flew all over Geralt’s shirt. “Whoops.”

Geralt just rolled his eyes and took the shirt off. He caught Jaskier staring at the medallion, like the boy always did when Geralt undressed. But he didn’t say anything about it. “Not Jaskier?”

“No, I chose that one, like you.”

Geralt nodded a bit. They sat there in the quiet, Jaskier’s eyes on the medallion until they heard Lambert shouting for Jaskier, that he wanted to play cards. “I’ll see you at supper,” Geralt said. He left to go check on the horses, finding the stables soothing.

*

At supper Vesemir presented a journal. “I have written in here every name I could think of. We will go through it and check them off. I will pass the journal off to Eskel, then Lambert, then back to me. We should be able to work through and find your name. And this way we can avoid repeats.”

Geralt frowned. “Wait, why don’t I get a turn?” The three looked at him. Jaskier was busy tuning his lute to play for them. “What?”

“You’ve had months of guessing, and couldn’t figure it out,” Eskel explained. “So any name you would know, has been tried.”

“Oh he seldom guessed,” Jaskier explained. “He paid whores and tavern wenches to guess, but he never actually did.”

“Geralt, what the fuck?” Eskel hit him. “Why didn’t you take care of our puppy?”

Geralt just hit him back and didn’t respond. He focused on his ale.

“It was okay, I figured it out!” Jaskier was smiling. “See, he hadn’t had a friend in a while. So he didn’t want to guess, in case I left, but because he is a good friend he tried to help. I didn’t mind. I like traveling with Geralt. I was going to stay even after my soulmate guessed my name. They could just travel with us.”

Geralt blinked. All the witchers did. “Soulmate?” they all said in unison.

Jaskier flushed and started strumming hard on his lute. Geralt reached out and gently pried his fingers off. “You never said it was your soulmate.”

“Well, that is just what my nursemaid told me when I was young. Doesn’t necessarily mean it is true.”

“We could find out,” Eskel suggested.

“How?” Lambert replied, clearly curious.

“I would need a few drops of your blood,” Eskel said to Jaskier and Geralt immediately shook his head.

“You aren’t hurting him.” He moved a little closer to Jaskier.

“It wouldn’t hurt,” Eskel said. “And I could read what is inscribed on it. Because maybe there is something Jaskier doesn’t know and, Jaskier is now handing me a bloody knife. So it seems ….yeah.”

“I want to know.”

Geralt looked at the thin line of Jaskier’s arm and huffed. Geralt took his shirt off and tore a strip off. He wrapped it around the wound and Jaskier’s eyes were on the medallion again.

“Eww, put it all away,” Lambert covered his eyes. “You are so gross.”

“Oh you shouldn’t have done that,” Eskel muttered.

Geralt didn’t understand until Jaskier made a noise that was somewhere in between a squawk and a growl and then Jaskier’s ale was in Lambert’s face and then Jaskier was in Lambert’s face trying to pummel him with his metal mug. Christ it was the bar in Vizima all over again. He never could figure out why the bard only took offense over Geralt and never himself. He walked over and picked up Jaskier. “He was just teasing. And jealous because I am fitter than him.”

“Tomorrow I am taking you down,” Lambert said, flipping Geralt off.

Jaskier had gone limp in his Geralt’s hold.

“Put the boy down,” Vesemir told him.

Geralt just snorted. “No.”

“Geralt, I said put him down.”

“Fine.” Geralt let Jaskier go and stepped back; sure enough Jaskier had launched himself at Lambert again. “See, he goes limp to give you a false sense of his idiocy, that maybe he’s learned his lesson. He has not. Learned that with the goat incident.” Geralt went over and plucked Jaskier off Lambert. “Eskel, when you are checking his blood for the curse, also see if they removed the ability to feel fear? That could be handy to know.” Geralt slung Jaskier over his shoulder and picked up the lute. He went over to the fire and plopped the bard down into the nest of pillows and blankets. “Play me something happy.” That always distracted Jaskier when he went into feral mode.

Sure enough, the bard played and Eskel and Vesemir disappeared with the blood sample. Lambert came over to listen and Jaskier beamed at him, already having moved on from trying to murder the witcher. It was companionable and eventually the other two returned.

“It is soulmate,” Eskel said. “It is there in his blood. His true name will only be known when someone who is full of love for him speaks it out loud. When someone who can not imagine a world without him in it, calls to him in his real name. Also they didn’t mess with his fear, that is just all Jaskier.”

“So I am completely fucked,” Jaskier said, “Because who would ever feel like that about me?”

Geralt felt everything crystallize in that moment. Why he had let Jaskier travel with him, why he touched Jaskier so much, why he protected and indulged the foolish boy.

Because he loved him.

Fuck.

He was going to have to start guessing names.

He was lost in his own thoughts when he heard Eskel say, “Kristoff.”

“Jorgen,” Lambert said.

“Rilken,” when it was Vesemir’s turn.

Wait…what? Geralt looked at his family in confusion.

“It will be a fine thing to be your soulmate, little pup,” Eskel said solemnly.

WAIT…WHAT?

Lambert nodded. “It would be my honour to have you traveling at my side.”

NO REALLY WAIT…WHAT?

“I enjoy your company and would have no problems with that continuing,” Vesemir tilted his head in respect.

WAIT WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK OF WAIT…WHAT?

Jaskier wiped a tear away. “I have no idea why people are so scared of witchers. You are just the sweetest, most honourable men ever.” He cleared his throat. “And I appreciate the three of you willing to be my soulmate. Becoming Geralt’s best friend so he would bring me to you, was the best thing that could ever happen, and I’d be happy if any of you -”

“Wiktor,” Geralt blurted out. His mouth curled on it.

“Oh,” Jaskier said softly.

All four witchers stared at each other. It was about Jaskier - but it was also about their competitive edge.

“It is on,” Eskel said, and started shouting out names. Lambert jumped on top of him to cover his mouth, also shouting. Vesemir began reading from the list in his book.

Jaskier sat there, clearly stunned by how Geralt’s family were idiots.

“Alexi,” Geralt added in. Because he was an idiot too.

And Jaskier was his bard and no one else was claiming him.

Chapter Text

He wasn’t hiding. It was examining very thoroughly a room he had found that it seemed like no one had been in for a few decades. Only he didn’t like what he was finding. The cots were small and there were so many considering there were four witchers in the keep. It was a good room though, and he looked at the window placement and the ceiling. “Toss a coin to your witcher, o valley of plenty,” he sang out and the echo carried beautifully.

Oh fuck, the acoustics were better than the practice room at Oxenfurt. He sang the whole song and the words just hung in the air. He heard a giggle and a call for more. A wisp was running around the room. Other shapes forming in the corner of his eye. Jaskier hadn’t quite believed Geralt when he teased that the keep was haunted, but he hadn’t not believed either. A few of the wisps seemed larger than others. 

Well, Jaskier was never one to say no to a willing audience. He sang a few songs, a couple silly ones, a couple classics and a couple he had written since being there. One of which was about the wolf witchers and their large swords being dwarfed by their large hearts. When he finished he felt a few of the ghosts brush against him and disappear. The door opened and they all hurried away, and he swore he heard one child ghost shout. “Shit, it’s Vesemir I’m not getting punished again.”

Jaskier looked over at him. “You were a strict enforcer of bedtime I bet.”

“Good sleep means good fighting,” Vesemir looked around the room. “You made it lighter.”

“They just don’t want to be forgotten.”

“I never forget any of my charges.” 

“I can tell,” Jaskier gestured to the small beds. “But this isn’t the way. This is a grave, not a memory.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Is there a room in the entire keep that is meant entirely for fun?” 

“Stefan,” Vesemir’s mouth curled a bit, “That seems like a waste of space.”

“No it seems exactly like what you need,” Jaskier stood up. “And we’re going to make it happen.” He picked up the end of a bed and started dragging it to the door. There were twenty beds in the room. And Vesemir was just looking at him in puzzlement. “Help?” Jaskier suggested but the man crossed his arms. “Don’t make me use my magic powers.” He quirked a brow and waited, but Vesemir was not moving a single bed.

“Ow!” Jaskier cried out loudly. “Ow ow ow son of a bitch that hurt!” He waited, and then the thunder of boots could be heard.

Vesemir just snorted. “They keep calling you their puppy, and yet they all heel to you.”

“Hey you came to find me and check on me too,” Jaskier pointed out. Eskel and Lambert burst into the room, but no Geralt. Jaskier made sure not to react because if he smelled the least bit sad, they tended to fret.

That was why he had been hiding in the first place, he had realized the snow drifts outside seemed a little smaller and that mean maybe another month until spring. Until he had to leave the best home he had ever had. And immediately the name guessing had doubled and Eskel tried to push sweets in his mouth, and Lambert wrapped him up and Geralt’s frown intensified. Maybe they should get witchers actual puppies. These men were such caretakers. Only no one had ever let them take care before. Vesemir had even read out loud to him for fuck’s sake.

But not a single of the four had got his name right yet.

Because they liked him, adored him. But they didn’t love him.

It was more than he had before, more than he ever expected to have a family like this, so he didn’t mind not having a true name as much anymore.

“Where are you hurt?” Eskel demanded his magic readying.

“What do I need to kill?”

“Why didn’t Geralt come?” Vesemir asked them.

“He said Jaskier was faking and he’d be along to deal with whatever bullshit chore needed accomplishing after he finished with his regular morning exercises.” Lambert rolled his eyes. “Anya,” he coughed, “he does not love you like he should.” Lambert had moved on to women’s names, just in case. 

“He is right though, I was faking,” Jaskier said, and oh lord the horrified gasp from Eskel was the cutest shit. A finger was even getting ready to wag. “Yes I know, boy and wolf. But look I cried wolf, and I got wolves, I’m good. Now start moving all the beds out of the room.” He started dragging again and Eskel nudged him out of the way, picked it up and carried it out.

Lambert carried two, not wanting to be outdone by Eskel.

Vesemir just sighed and picked up a bed. 

God, he loved his puppies, Jaskier sighed happily. He started to drag one and eventually he heard Geralt’s voice saying told you so, and with his help all the beds were out. 

“Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger!” Jaskier sang and whimpered at how good is sounded. All the wolves heads immediately snapped and they moved closer. Jaskier had wanted to do a little more work, but he knew that look. He sang a couple songs, and in the corner saw the ghosts. “Your brothers don’t mind,” he told the ghosts and they inched closer. Jaskier smiled when Eskel held out a hand and a wisp seemed to settle in his lap. One climbed onto Geralt’s shoulder and four were around Vesemir. And then one stood at attention beside Lambert. He sang a couple more before looking at them. “We are turning this into a play room.”

“Uhhhh,” Lambert looked at Vesemir and then Geralt. “I don’t know if I am fine with turning our childhood bedroom into that.”

“Look, I know fun is sometimes a foreign concept to you, but really you deserve a play room.”

“He doesn’t mean what you are thinking,” Geralt told Lambert.

“What sort of other play room is there?” Lambert shot back. “That means one thing.”

“Exactly,” Jaskier agreed. “We’ll need a couple nice tables for Gwent playing. And I said in a tavern once, this board you hang on a wall and throw these mini arrows at it, and score points. No serious books allowed, only romances and adventures. I can play music. A play room!”

“Ohhhhh,” Lambert nodded. “A recreation room.”

“Is that the name for it in this region?” Jaskier looked to Geralt. “What does a play room mean?”

“I wanna tell him,” Eskel said easing forward.

“No,” Vesemir replied. “Go get mops and buckets. We’ll clean out all the dust, and then white wash the room.”

“Fine. Chair,” Eskel sneezed. “Don’t move. We’ll get everything.”

“Okay, I can understand the more feminine names, but really I don’t think my name is going to be furniture, Eskel. But thank you for trying.” Jaskier gave him a hug, and noticed that Geralt actually had emotions playing over his face. Jaskier could read him well. Sort of. He seemed upset that Jaskier was hugging Eskel, but also happy his brother was getting affection. Jaskier just couldn’t understand why he’d be upset.

Why Geralt had stopped guessing recently. That had upset him at first, when Geralt had stopped guessing a couple weeks ago. But he saw Geralt watching him, and several nights a week he was in Geralt’s bed, because he didn’t like being so far away from the man at night. And Geralt always had the sheet folded down for him. All of it equaled that Geralt had stopped guessing for a very specific reason. And Jaskier would know it in time.

It took them a week to get the room exactly how Jaskier pictured, but it was perfect. And the ghosts seemed so happy. Several more had disappeared, no longer tied to the pain the room had held. They were down to just three or so, who Jaskier was pretty sure just didn’t want to leave. He loved the room. It was fun and friendly, and the poor witchers seemed a touch confused by having a dedicated space for no practical purpose other than enjoyment. Jaskier set himself up in his corner and began to play his lute.

Eskel and Vesemir settled into a game of Gwent, Geralt and Lambert the throwing board. And they all relaxed. There was laughing and teasing and just fun. “Over the summer, we should all find games and such to add to the room for next winter,” Jaskier said as he strummed. They were all looking at him intensely. They always did, because they were all such intense men. “What now?” he sighed a bit.

“If we fail in finding your name, you would still return to us?” Eskel asked, hesitantly. “We thought -”

“Since we have done you a grave disservice clearly you won’t want to spend anymore time with us.”

Jaskier stared at them in shock. “Vesemir? Is that what you have been thinking as well?”

“It is logical,” Vesemir replied without looking up from his cards.

Jaskier bit his lip, upset. “And Geralt?”

Geralt just snorted and threw a small dagger at the board. “There is no getting rid of him, once he claims you. Be a fucking miracle if he doesn’t insist we spend all season on the Path together.”

Jaskier gasped in happiness. “Can I do that?”

“No,” they all replied and he pouted a bit. 

“Could be fun,” he muttered.

“Puppy, that would leave large swaths of people vulnerable to monsters,” Eskel pointed out. “You don’t want people dying just so you can have your family?”

Jaskier shook his head swiftly.

“We could perhaps arrange a time mid summer to meet up for a few days of camping together,” Lambert suggested idly.

“Yes!” Jaskier shouted. “Geralt and I will meet you wherever, whenever, won’t we?”

“Hmm,” Geralt said and threw another knife.

“So you travel with Geralt, do you?” Vesemir asked. “This is your decision?”

Jaskier looked at them all. The other three looked a little sad, but not surprised. “Yes?” Jaskier said, asked. “I love all of you, but honestly I’d drive the rest of you crazy. He has figured out how to endure me. Like ball itch, he once said.”

“I don’t endure you, I like you,” Geralt muttered and threw a last dagger, and left the recreation room.

Jaskier stared after him and then looked at the others. “So I’m better than ball itch?” Jaskier smiled a bit. “I’m better than ball itch!” Vesemir came over and kissed his head. “What is that for?”

“Jaskier, thank you for the suggestion of this room,” Vesemir said. “I will make sure to find games over the summer for it.” He left the room.

“Huh?” Jaskier looked at Lambert and Eskel. “Is something going on?”

Lambert came over and hauled him up into a big hug. “Jaskier, you are my favourite thing.” The hug maybe displaced a rib, but he didn’t mind really. Then he was tossed through the air into Eskel’s embrace and Lambert was gone too.

“What the fuck, Eskel?” Jaskier looked at him, because Eskel would answer.

“You know what Lambert thought you meant by play room, Jaskier?” Eskel grinned. “Basically a sex dungeon.”

Jaskier flushed bright red. “I uhhhhh…shouldn’t that be in a basement then?” 

Eskel was holding him gently and kissed him so softly, a perfect romantic kiss. “Jaskier, my little puppy. Would that your heart had chosen me. But I’m here for you until the end.”

“Why do you keep calling me Jaskier?” Jaskier looked at him. “And why do none of you react anymore when you say my name?” Not a one of the three had twisted their mouths, or coughed when they said Jaskier.

“Becasue we love you in our way, and to us that is your true name,” Eskel said and kissed him again. “Go on Puppy, go to Geralt.”

Jaskier squeezed him tight. “You are my very bestest friend.”

“I know,” Eskel said and nudged him. “Go on.”

Jaskier hurried down the corridors until he made it to Geralt’s room, but he wasn’t in there. Jaskier thought and went to the stables. Sure enough Geralt was brushing Roach. “They have decided to stop guessing my name,” he said to Geralt, realizing that was what had happened in the recreation room.

Geralt growled a bit. “What? I’ll kill them,” he snapped and put the brush down. 

Shit, he looked like he actually might.

“Say my name?” Jaskier asked. No, he knew that tone of his voice. He was begging. “Please, just say my name?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt said and there was only the smallest reaction and Jaskier screamed in frustration. The horses all stomped at the noise. Jaskier ran out of the room and he could hear Geralt following. Jaskier ran and ran through the whole keep until he was exhausted, and just collapsed on the ground. He was crying and he didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t. When Geralt wrapped an arm around him, he curved into the man.

“They can say Jaskier without reacting, because they love me, and think it is my name. And you can’t. Because you don’t love me. You are the one I wanted to guess me name,” he hiccuped a little.

“I know Jaskier isn’t right,” Geralt said softly. “I feel it deep inside me.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you, you idiot,” Geralt snapped. “And your true name is just out of my reach. I keep feeling it. And I stopped guessing to try to listen to that feeling. But do you know how fucking hard it is to listen to that tiny voice in my heart when I keep getting distracted by you?”

“I distract you?”

“You keep staring at my medallion, and singing, and making my brothers happy for the first time in decades.”

“I’m staring at your chest,” Jaskier replied. “Not at the medallion.”

“Because the scars are repulsive I know. But I can keep a shirt on more -” Geralt began and wow, did Jaskier have to correct that.

“Because I want to lick every inch of your skin,” Jaskier whispered.

“I see,” Geralt nodded and stood up.

Jaskier looked up at him. “What do you see, and I am in the air now,” he said as Geralt hauled him up and he was over Geralt’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Not going to let you lick me in the hallway. I’m not a heathen.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said. “Ohhhh,” he wiggled a bit and Geralt smacked his ass. “Eep. You know I uhh. Well, I see.” He gulped. “I have done this before.”

“I know.”

“Once? And it didn’t live up to my hopes.” Jaskier was put down and they were in Geralt’s room. Geralt took off his shirt and Jaskier’s eyes were immediately drawn to his skin.

“That won’t be a concern,” Geralt promised and pulled him in for a kiss that made Jaskier’s head swim. “This will surpass your dreams.”

“I’ve been dreaming of you for months,” Jaskier said. “Lots to live up to.”

“I’ll manage.” Geralt said and soon they were on the bed and Geralt definitely managed. All the managing, the best managing Jaskier could imagine.

*

“You have the dagger?” Eskel was fussing. 

“Yes, I have the dagger,” Jaskier sighed when Lambert came over and started fussing as well. “I’m fine! I have all your gifts. And Geralt won’t let anything happen to me.”

“And you’ll protect the world from his temper?”

“Geralt doesn’t really have a temper,” Jaskier frowned at Vesemir.

“He meant I need to protect the world from you,” Geralt said, and they were all snickering.

“You -” Jaskier gasped. “I am a model of gentlemanly behaviour!” There were more snorts of laughter and Jaskier pouted.

“Love you, Jaskier, we’ll see you at the coast in a few months,” Eskel said. Lambert did the same and Vesemir smiled and cupped his neck. Geralt nudged them away and off down the Path, and Jaskier was relieved because any more and he’d be a sobbing wreck. When they camped for the night, Geralt opened his arms and Jaskier crawled in and started sobbing.

“What if they die?” he wailed. “Lambert always drops his left, and Vesemir is ancient, and Eskel relies on his magic too much, forgetting it needs to rest.”

“They know, you’ve spent the last two weeks reminding them of all that. They wouldn’t dare disappoint you by dying. We’ll see them at the coast. And you can fuss,” Geralt promised.

“I will fuss so much,” Jaskier swore. It was still cool and the fire was providing needed warmth. But they had lingered longer than Geralt would have usually. They waited not just until all the snow had mostly melted, but until the ground had started to thaw. Geralt had told him it was a treat for his first winter, that next winter they’d leave a couple weeks earlier. Jaskier appreciated the extra time with his family - loathe to let go of people who could say his name without flinching. 

Geralt couldn’t, though, but that was fine. One day, he’d be able to say Jaskier like his brothers did.

“Dandelion,” Geralt said and Jaskier could hear a stem being snapped.

“Yes?” Jaskier responded. And he paused, because something felt different inside him. He was being flooded by warmth.

“First dandelion of the spring,” Geralt said and held up the small weed. “We did linger at the keep. Usually takes weeks before I see these.”

“No you dumbass, say that again. At me!” Jaskier held his breath.

Geralt looked at him carefully. “Dandelion,” he said softly, staring directly into Jaskier’s eyes. His mouth held the word easily. “My Dandelion,” he whispered and pressed his forehead to Jaskier’s.

“You are my soulmate,” Jaskier managed to say, a different sort of tears falling from his eyes.

“No shit, I didn’t need a name to know that,” Geralt replied. “Jaskier?” he said the name without a single reaction, it finally sitting on his tongue as well. “Which do you prefer? Jaskier or Dandelion?”

How was he supposed to decide that? Because his soulmate had just given him his true name, but also he was rather attached to Jaskier. “Both?” he asked.

“Jaskier generally, Dandelion just for us?” Geralt suggested and that sounded perfect. He tilted his head so that Geralt could kiss him.

“Say it again,” Jaskier demanded after the kiss.

“Dandelion, you’ll get sick of me saying it.”

“Never,” Jaskier swore.

*

They were all in the tavern, the owner a little scared at having four witchers sitting at a table, but Jaskier’s singing was bringing in a lot of people who were buying a great deal of ale.

“HIS NAME IS WHAT?” Eskel shouted.

Jaskier grinned. He began to strum Toss a Coin.

“I’m not fucking calling Jaskier that,” Lambert complained.

“You better not,” he could hear Geralt growl. “My name. My bard. My name. My fucking soulmate.”

“Heehee you said fucking soulmate,” Eskel teased.

Vesemir was just sitting drinking his ale, and clearly waiting to hear Jaskier sing. Jaskier decided to oblige him, as he watched his wolves start to get into a slap fight.

Jaskier blew a kiss to Geralt, who immediately stopped fighting and paid attention like Jaskier was the only thing in the world. 

Jaskier began to sing a song about dandelions, that was not even remotely about the flower but about sex. He watched Geralt start to flush and the others began to cackle and tease. Jaskier lost himself in the music and happiness of the moment.

He had a soulmate, a family, a name.

He had everything.

And luckily when the bar brawl broke out later, he had the dagger Eskel had given him. “Let me at them, they don’t insult my witchers,” he roared as they all carted him out. 

“Dandelion, it is fine,” Geralt whispered against his neck.

“Of course it is, I am fine. All good,” Jaskier smiled at him.

“Don’t let him go, that’s a fucking lie,” Eskel warned.

“No shit, I know him,” Geralt replied.

“You do,” Jaskier snuggled into the embrace and was carried to the beach where they were all camping. He was surrounded by the witchers so he couldn’t go back to finish the fight. “You know me perfectly.” He snuggled into Geralt’s arms, and zoned out listening to the witchers all tease about his name. He didn’t mind in the least, because he fell asleep hearing his true name on the lips of everyone he loved.

“My Dandelion,” Geralt whispered against his head.

And there was the voice he loved most of all. Saying his name perfectly.