Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They had barely spoken about it. Other than the weak ‘i’m sorry’ Geralt had given after Jaskier had prompted him. Neither of them had brought it up again and then there were more pressing issues at hand. Winter was upon them and there were two new bodies at the keep as well as the growing threat that his child surprise would be taken from him.

But Jaskier had been stealing away more often as the days wore on. Staying quiet, complacent. Without much more than that leather coat he seemed so fond of, the poet was at a loss most days. He earned his keep, chores or cooking when it was his turn, that much could be said. But other than that there was little in the way of relaxing or enjoying the other’s company.

Yennefer was much the opposite. She got on well with the other witchers, as well as she could and she often found herself amongst their company. Not that Jaskier wasn’t there too of course but he took up so much less space than she did. Her personality radiated in a way Jaskier’s once had too. He joined in on the jokes occasionally but it wasn’t well received. No one asked him about his songs or travels of course, they already knew it from Geralt. No, he was more an accessory to the witcher while Yennefer was a whole new person.

Geralt could see it on him sometimes. When he thought no one had spotted him or when his eyes lingered a little too long. Like he was shouting from too far away to be heard or paid mind. Geralt honestly worried about the bard on some occasions but often his attention was swiftly drawn back to the dazzling witch and her prospects. Jaskier left to scream for any scrap of belonging until his voice was left raw.

It was sort of a stand still, more and more Geralt caught the scent of the bard filling with utter despair as he stared off into space, but then he would snap back and it would start to dissipate, never leaving him completely. He had also noticed that Jaskier had been taking more baths to make up for his lack of use of scented sprays. The bard was aware of a witcher’s senses and although he might indulge on the road he wouldn’t subject a keep full of witchers to that. It might be a risk to his personal safety after all. Besides, it's not as if he had anything strongly scented anyway.

Geralt pondered these things worth noting as he walked back toward his room late in the evening. As he passed by the lab he heard two distinct voices speaking at an even volume within. He stopped to listen.

“I’ve seen you doing that nervous glancing at me all night Jaskier, what do you want?” Geralt heard the voice of Yennefer coming from the slightly opened lab door. She sounded impatient and harsh. A tone Geralt remembered thoroughly from all of the times she was angry with him.

“If you want to gain his trust back you need to stop playing with his feelings. The whole world can see how pining you too are so maybe get it together.” Geralt identified Jaskier’s voice and tone. It was soft as it often was, but it felt more like he was coaxing her than conversing. It set Geralt’s teeth on edge to hear the slight discomfort the bard held at being confronted.

“Pinning. Are you joking? That seems much closer to what you do, doesn't it.” Yennefer snapped back.

“Maybe stick to the ballads poet and stop sticking your nose in things you know nothing about.” She spat ‘poet’ like an insult, she had certainly used it that way before.

“I just wanted to warn you. I meant nothing by it.” Jaskier continued, half backtracking, half standing his ground. It warmed Geralt's heart slightly to hear his bard defend him even if it was unnecessary.

“Nothing by it? The last thing I need is you poking into my life bard. What I do with my witcher is none of your concern.” He couldn’t honestly remember a single conversation between the two of them, especially one regarding him. It was strange to hear some of his closest friends regard him in such a manner.

“Geralt” Jaskier emphasized his name in the face of the mage’s lack of its use.

“Is not simply a piece of meat for you to chew and then be done with when it suits you. I honestly have no idea why he still even lets you near Ciri.” Jaskier continued, an edge of anger tightening his words.

“Because I proved my usefulness, which is more than can be said about you. And It's not as if he cares how I treat him. The first time we met I enchanted you both just because it was convenient and he still came running back.” Yennefer said with a laugh. Geralt remembered being sick at the thought of lilac and gooseberries for a long time after that.

“This is exactly what I am talking about. You traipse around, playing the lovely mother to your little family but then drop him at a whim. It’s not right, he deserves better.” Jaskier defended him, taking a breath before continuing.

“At least I can be honest when I say I care for him. Which is more than you can say.” Jaskier’s voice was smaller now but it still carried a fiery bite that had come to define the bard.

“Hah! And who was it he came running after on that mountain bard. How long did you wait for him? A day? Two? Before you realized he wanted nothing to do with you, at least until he could use you for a favor. Being the bait is one of your more redeeming qualities. Your ‘care’ has gotten you nowhere. My method has been much more effective.”

“See that! That’s what I’m talking about. Your relationship is a cycle of debts and gifts and that's it. It's so shallow that even a swallow wouldn’t drown in its substance.”

“As if you have any right to judge shallowness. Half of your romps are in brothels with the prettiest girl you can spot.” Yennefer countered.

“Yes but in those cases it is understood from the beginning why we are there. There is no pretense as to what is going on, no empty promises. You are leading him on, making him think you want him for more than the power he can give you, more than the power Ciri can give you.”

“Don’t you dare bring that into this. I apologized for that and I didn’t even go through with it.”

“Yennefer, that's not the point. The fact that you were willing to sacrifice any child just for your magic back is absurd and should have been grounds to drop you at the next town. But Geralt’s too soft-hearted to do that so here we are.” Jaskier’s voice tapered off slightly, no sign of that earlier fire. He heard a scoff come from Yennefer.

“Is this about your childish little crush again? You know he doesn’t prefer men, and even if he did he wouldn’t want you Dandelion, even you must know that. I’ve seen into your head remember, I know what he’s said to you. It seems even a fool wouldn’t miss the demand for your exit from his life. Do you want me to repeat his words?” Geralt could hear the sneer in her voice as she mocked the bard. And then the slight intake of air sucked through Jaskier’s teeth, no doubt he flinched at the memory. A spike of guilt shot through Geralt for that. To know even now he was causing his bard pain, even as Jaskier defended him.

“That’s not it, I'm saying you need to change if you don’t want to lose him forever. Djinn binding or not. Even if it does kill me to see you two, it’s not up to me. So the best I can do is help you be better. Gods know you don’t deserve him.” Jaskier bit out, the defeated air about him strengthening.

“I’m exactly what he deserves bard-”

“You treat him like shit and use him to gain power, knowing he’ll come running back to you the moment he can. That isn’t love Yennefer! Even as cold hearted as you are, do not delude yourself into thinking what you have is in any way real.” There was a sharp snapping sound and a small scuffle as, presumably, Yennefer slapped the poor bard.

“And what you have is? You who dog at his heels like a broken puppy, a burden by your own design? Jaskier you are a bard. Clearly it is you who has deluded yourself into thinking you are anything more than the barker, the witcher’s whore. Except he doesn’t even deem you worthy of that small comfort. You are nothing more than the family pet to him, why else would he abandon you so often. I can tell you right now it won’t be the last time. Maybe you should do us all a favor and leave the keep before you get left behind, again.” Yennefer’s voice rose and fell with spiteful words. Geralt found himself startled at the sudden rise in volume and then even more so as Yennefer stormed out of the room in a huff before Jaskier could respond. The conversation was over.

The strong scent of anger, resentment, spite, frustration. It was overwhelming.

Geralt hid behind one of the corridors as she left down another. Then he entered the room. The sight layed out nearly shattered him.

Jaskier stood leaning back against one of the tables, his head down, his eyes unfocused and blank. The thick scent of despair radiated off him in waves. He hunched slightly, letting the pressure of his frame rest on the wooden table behind him. Then he looked up.

“Oh Geralt, did you need something?” Geralt just stared at him in shock. The poet spoke as if he hadn’t just been emotionally torn apart by someone he would have to live with for the next few months.

“Jaskier…” the bard looked up at him with an expression of confusion, then realization and worry.

“I’m guessing I'm not lucky enough that your witcher senses couldn’t penetrate the stone walls of this keep?” Jaskier suddenly looked very coy. Embarrassed even. It was a look he wasn’t used to seeing on the bard. Usually so brazen about even the most taboo of topics, now he reminded Geralt of a kicked dog. The reminder of Yennefer’s comparison sends another shock of guilt through him.

“No, Jaskier. What was that all about?” Jaskier looked away, and Geralt immediately missed it, feeling the small rejection.

“I was… I was just trying to get her to understand something. And I know what you’re going to say witcher. ‘It’s not my place to butt in on your love life.’ Which I’d like to call bullshit as someone has to be looking out for your personal health.” Jaskier fumed slightly but all Geralt could smell on him was the deep sadness that ran through his veins and marked his every word. There was so much more context he was missing.

“Yennefer has been good to us.” He cringed at the words as they came out and that scent of sadness only deepened.

“No, she hasn’t Geralt. She literally tried to kill your daughter and would have left me with that fire fucker if she hadn’t thought it would get brownie points with you. Not that it did anyway.”

“I’ve forgiven her.” That hurt. He could see the sharp wince in Jaskier’s posture and his eyes diverted swiftly, small pin pricks of water filling the corners just out of sight.

“Well, then that's all that matters isn’t it.” Jaskier didn’t meet his eyes again, instead going to brush past him in an effort to leave. Geralt didn’t let him. His arm shot out and grabbed the bard by the wrist, halting his stride.

Jaskier flinched as the cloth rubbed painfully against his rope burns but didn’t move to take his hand away. Geralt didn’t let go.

“Jaskier, what's going on.” Geralt tried to be gentle but he could see the bard already curling in on himself, trying to hide away his face and his feelings as he always had.

“It’s nothing Geralt. If you forgive her then there’s nothing to be done.” Jaskier still didn’t look at him but Geralt could feel the slight tremor in his hands, his words.

“Jaskier.”

“You- what does she have that I don’t…” The words came out unwillingly as Jaskier felt himself numb over. He was in too deep now, might as well get an answer as to why he was so unloveable before they kicked him to the curb like… a broken pet.

“What?” Geralt was completely taken aback by the change in direction.

“Never mind. I’m sorry. Just go find your mage and daughter. I’ll be… somewhere. I’m sure you’d know how to find me if you ever decide you wanted to.” Jaskier tried again to pull his hand away but Geralt still held fast. That thick smell of utter despair was overwhelming and he had to do something about it.

“Why would she have something that you do not?” Geralt asked in earnest which seemed to at least get the bard’s attention.

“It was a dumb thing to say- I-.” Jaskier shakily breathed out through his nose in a huff. Before relenting and answering the question.

“...Because you keep choosing her over me. I understand you’re together but I thought- I had more worth to you than that of the family pet. Simply to be ordered around and asked favors of and then ignored when not convenient.” Jaskier spoke evenly, that familiar aching numbness chilling his heart to the consequences of his words.

Geralt thought for a long moment, letting silence settle between them. Jaskier was right. It had always been a choice between the two of them. Geralt left Jaskier’s side to return to Yen’s often enough for him to notice. On the mountain, during the djinn incident, those many nights where he was at her beckon call. Never once had he thought about jaskier waking up alone in an inn or on the road and then proceeding to sit and wait for him to return.

“You know I waited for you… on the mountain. I’m sure you heard Yennefer say. I thought foolishly that this was just another instance in which you had abandoned me to be at her side again. That you would return to me once your fun was over and the work had to begin. She was right, I spent the day there, waiting. I nearly spent the next night. If you hadn’t taken everything with you I might have. But by then I knew I had lost you.” Jaskier was crying now, soft, silent tears could barely be seen at the angle of his head but they were there.

Geralt listened, feeling his heart restrict at the sight. The display of raw emotion the bard had never done before. Like everything that had happened between them had finally welled over, it was suddenly too much for the man to hold inside anymore.

“When I told you I had wanted to go to the coast. Do you remember Geralt? I selfishly thought she wouldnt find us there. That you might learn to be content with my company…” His head fell again.

“I know now I was wrong. I was just as likely to be abandoned there as anywhere else. I see that now.” Despair turned numbness turned to despair Jaskier felt nothing. The words flowed out of him with nothing. No fire. No spit. No anger. Just nothing. He had known Geralt would break him. And he had. It didn’t hurt as much as the bard expected. He felt his fingers twitch with disuse.

“Jaskier, look at me.” He didn’t. Geralt didn’t force him.

“ You and Yennefer are nothing alike.” Jaskier actually laughed at that. Heart broken tears welled up in his eyes as he accepted that fact. Far be it for him to expect comfort from a witcher. Shame even. for expecting care, to be loved. He let his laugh quiet back into silent tears as he now stared at the door, wishing very much for all the pain to stop.

“You are a light in this world. The likes of which I have never seen. I care for you- much more than I cared for her.” Jaskier still didn’t look at him but his shoulder’s tightened.

“Is that why you ran to her bed every night? Tell me, witcher, when has this care made itself known. Name me one instance, action, or word that you have shared that might prove your words here. As I have been looking… and been left wanting.” Geralt took the words like a cold bucket of water. He had been so scared of ruining what they had, he hadn’t realized it was already rotting.

“Let me- let me prove myself. I will show you with my actions, my words. Jaskier, Please.” His growl was low, grounding. He forced as much emotion in his tone as he could, which admittedly was not much.

Jaskier sighed with the weight of the years of grief he spent waiting to hear those exact words. Now that they hung in the air he couldn’t help but feel disappointment. Disappointment that it didn’t fix the numbness in his heart, the pain in his restricted lungs. He now had everything that he wanted. And it was still not enough. Gods he really was just a broken thing wasn’t he.

Jaskier couldn’t hold it in anymore. The shaking sobs tore themselves through his throat as he tried to keep himself from collapsing. The weight of hundreds of hours spent wondering if the witcher was thinking of him, missing him. The guilt of anger and hate that he had never really felt. The sense of betrayal that caught in his throat every time he saw Geralt go after Yennefer. It was too much.

Geralt caught him before his knees hit the ground, his entire body shaking as they slowly sunk to the floor of the lab. Jaskier said nothing, he didn’t even try. Just let himself feel it. That numbness washed away with the river of tears he let pour. Geralt held on to his hand and Jaskier allowed him to. Geralt let his other hand fall to the bard’s back, rubbing in slow circles. He was trying to comfort him but he understood there was not much comfort to be had here.

Eventually Jaskier ran himself dry, his tears quieting as they fell. He simply had no energy left to expend in this. Then he started to laugh. Again a small self-deprecating thing serving as punishment for the lack of relief he felt.

“Jaskier…” Geralt finally managed to get out cautiously.

“I don’t understand. I’ve waited years to hear you say those words to me. Years. But I feel nothing. I don’t feel better. I guess I’ve just run out of chances to believe you, run out of chances to be loved and now that even one person has told me they care I can’t accept it. Isn’t that funny Geralt? I’m the reason no one loves me.” Geralt felt himself stop breathing. He had never seen the bard like this before. Years of hiding, running away from him. Letting him down again and again. Now he faced the consequences.

Geralt moved of his own will, pulling the bard against him fully. He would start now. No matter whether he deserved another chance or forgiveness, Jaskier deserved to feel better. He let the rumble in his chest purr through the bard, holding him close to ensure he felt it. He remembered comforting Lambert like this, and Ciri. He couldn't honestly remember time when he had even held the bard, let alone did this for him. Not for lack of wanting to.

“Jaskier.” Jaskier said nothing, didn’t try to interrupt of make any move to show he was listening.

“You are not unloveable. No- Listen.” Jaskier had scoffed at the first sentence but Geralt continued.

“You are not unloveable. You have been surrounded by too many people who did not value you properly for too long and you have forgotten who you are.” Geralt waited for an expected interruption but it never came. Geralt sought and found his next words.

“You are the famous bard Dandelion. Charging into danger without a second thought for the simple reward of a more authentic story. To the courts you are an entertainer, playing politics on the side. To the elves, a savior, delivering justice and helping them live. To Ciri, a protector and mentor.” Jaskier’s tears had stopped, he simply lay against Geralt on the cold floor, holding on as he listened. The feeling of relief, that he had so longed for finally starting to show it’s head.

“...And to you?” Jaskier voiced before Gerlat could continue.

“To me you are the unattainable. The night’s stars through which I see the path ahead… You are my light Jaskier.” He hadn’t meant to say so much, but it felt so natural. So right in the moment to say such things.

“It seems- it seems my poetry has had some influence on you.” Jaskier’s tone was tentative. Testing. He was seeing how the witcher would react now that his tears had stopped. Geralt knew that he was far from fine, far from even feeling better but he could sense the relief in the bard as he relaxed into the soft purring.

“I thought of it, when I missed you sometimes. I would think of your voice, humming or singing.” Geralt continued. He was aware of how much there was left unsaid but he was trying and that had to count for something. Geralt felt the pull to shut up again. To stop talking and simply lay there but he knew he had to continue. He would make an effort to make Jaskier understand how much he was loved.

If he could force his feelings through the bard’s skin he would have done it. For now he would hold him and rumble in the way Jaskier liked. Talk to him in the way he did so long ago and let him speak back.

“I know… I caught you humming one of my ballads once… I- nearly cried at that time.” Jaskier confessed and Geralt felt his heart swell.

“I should have asked you to play for me more.” Geralt said, morning all the times he wished to hear the lute strum and said nothing.

“Then ask…”

“Would you play for me, Jask?” Jask… an old nickname. An endearment. Something real, something tangible to show him that he meant more. Jaskier huffed a light. Not one of the small self-deprecating things he had before, something real.

“Had I my lute witcher, I just might.”

“I’ll get you one. Another one. Then you can play me the songs you wish, i’ll listen. I always listen.” Jaskier sighed again, that thick scent of despair was dissipating now replaced with a softer sadness. Something less aching, less bone deep. Something more… content. He was far from ok. Geralt knew not to expect as much. But this, this was good. This was a step toward the happiness that the bard deserved. If Geralt could give it to him he would and this was part of that.

“You would?”

“If you would like. I may need your careful eye when searching. I don’t think I could pick out a proper one.”

“You mean, I’d travel with you again.” There was something dangerously close to hope in his tone.

“How else should I prove myself to you?” Geralt asked, that familiar level of sarcastic humor entering his tone when he wasn’t careful. He made sure to purr louder in an effort to smooth over his perceived misstep.

“I- I just didn’t think.” Geralt could hear Jaskier’s heart hammering in his chest, as much as he could feel it against his own.

“If you would have me again Jaskier, my words are not empty.” Geralt tried to reassure him but he felt Jaskier tense again slightly.

“Would- would Yennefer be there?” Geralt understood. There was still little trust between them. He could not expect that from him, he didn’t. But he could work on it, rebuild it.

“No. Once she had finished teaching Ciri magic, I would not like her to be close to her again. And after hearing how she spoke to you, I would not like her to be close to you either.” He felt the rumble in his chest turn from comforting to protective as he remembered the harsh tones and spitting words thrown in the face of his bard.

He felt Jaskier relax slightly again. His fist tightening around the cloth of Geralt’s shirt. A direct and tenable declaration of Geralt’s choice. He had chosen Jaskier. He had chosen Jaskier. Not Yennefer. One or the other and he had chosen.

“It’s not often that you listen to me. I’m glad that you did, about this.” Jaskier confessed again and Geralt felt the unasked question in the air.

“I should do it more often. And I won’t be meeting her after this, not on purpose.” In a way Jaskier was very grateful for that reassurance even if he didn’t entirely believe it. He could tell that Geralt was trying. For now, that would have to be enough. Maybe later, it would be.

For now, there was a very nice purr emanating from the chest of his witcher and he was very tired. With content in his heart, he could finally sleep easy. Tomorrow would come the fear again, the insecurity. Facing Yennefer again and questioning everything. But for now, he could rest.

“Wake me when you leave, I don’t want to wake up alone.” Jaskier said as his eyes got heavier.

“Then I won’t leave.” Geralt shuffled slightly to the discontented noise that Jaskier made. He slid his hands under the bard and lifted as he stood. All the while maintaining the soft purr. It wasn’t hard, in the presence of Jaskier he often fought to keep that part of him from showing. It felt right to let it out, to let it please the bard in the way it was designed to.

He held Jaskier close as he walked, carrying him through the keep toward his room.

There the fire was already lit and the bed lined with so many furs Geralt had lost count. He let the half asleep bard down on his bed gently. Jaskier groaned as he let go for a moment. Geralt ignored him, moving to remove both his own and Jaskier’s boots. Before then moving beside the bard and pulling him back into his arms. Jaskier let himself be moved, his eyes already closed. He enjoyed the warmth and the closeness and he tried not to think about how, once, Yennefer enjoyed the same.

He wanted to ask if he purred for her too but he worried he might be saddened at the answer. Somewhere in his tired mind he simply wanted to enjoy this moment, somewhere else he thought that Geralt might just tell him what he wanted to hear.

“Did you purr for her too? When she was sad?” He felt Geralt take a deep breath, his chest and Jaskier’s head rising and then falling.

“No, she was never sad. She never showed that to me so she received no comfort.” Jaskier felt a small swell of pride in him. This was something that had not yet been taken from him by the witch.

“Why?” He felt his mouth move before he thought, wanting to hear more about the little things Geralt had reserved for him.

“She doesn’t trust me to be vulnerable. She never has. And the ‘purring’ as you call it, it’s not exactly something I can just turn on and off.” Geralt explained. Jaskier pulled himself closer, putting more pressure on the witcher as he was held.

“Good. you might save this yet?” A hollow joke, meant to jab at him painfully and remind him of the pain he had caused. Jaskier was entitled to at least that. Geralt only pulled him closer, shifting slightly to get comfortable and then closing his eyes.

He would let the bard rest for as long as he needed. As long as he wanted.

Chapter Text

The next morning did not go as Jaskier expected.

He slept through the rest of the day and then through the night, till early morning. When he woke the first thing he noticed was that soft rumble was still there. Geralt was still there. Jaskier had wrapped himself around the man and Geralt held him there. To say he was surprised was an understatement.

He Immediately pushed himself up off of Geralt’s chest to get a better look at him. Their thighs still pressed together and Geralt’s hands did not leave him. Geralt Looked peaceful and Jaskier couldn’t deny that this had been possibly the first good night’s sleep he’d gotten since being here.

Geralt now also looked back at him like he was the foolish one.

“Morning?” Geralt said, that look of sleepy haze still written all over him.

“It is, you didn’t leave.” Jaskier responded shortly but without the harshness that Geralt might have deserved.

“I said I wouldn’t.” Jaskier hummed, still aware of the hand on his lower back, keeping him from pulling away entirely. Not that he wanted to, but it was a sweet gesture. Jaskier would like nothing more than to lean back down, closer to the comfort of a soft bed and warm chest. But the day was starting. There were things to do, some of which included avoiding Yennefer at all costs.

“I suppose you did.” Jaskier admitted, knowing that Geralt was not mocking him for his miss trust.

“Are you hungry?” Geralt again made no move to pull Jaskier back to him but was enjoying the physical connection they still had as much as possible. This was how they could move forward. Slowly they could act as if nothing had happened, allowing Geralt to correct his mistakes as they did. The first being the avoidance Geralt had awarded him when they first arrived.

“Yes, but I dread to think of the scowl your witch will give me when I enter the main hall.” Jaskier complained in a tone so familiar and almost domestic. Jaskier began to shift away to get out of bed and start his day. Geralt let him, moving to sit on the edge of the bed to watch Jaskier as he pulled on his own boots.

“Not my witch.”

“Hm? What did you say.” Jaskier’s attention turned away from his own coat and shoes and back to the witcher.

“She’s not my witch.”

“Right I suppose she isn’t” Jaskier responded something playful in the way he made Geralt admit it again. Geralt caught the small smile that played at his lips and that tone of pride that Geralt was coming to love about his bard. He suspected there would be much of that soon and he would gladly play along.

“Ready?” Jaskier finished lacing his unsuitable boots and pulled on the long red coat he had shed at some point in the night. Geralt finished his own and stood to join him with a hum.

Jaskier didn’t hold on to him as they walked. Geralt wanted to reach out. He had already decided that he was going to court the bard, or at least attempt to. If he was being given another chance, he would do it properly this time. Rather than stringing along a friendship with the hopes of something more, he would start with a clear goal in mind.

Geralt stuck very close to his side in a protective manner. If Yennefer had anything to say Geralt would be there. He was well aware Jaskier could defend himself but the fact that he might not have to If Geralt was there pleased him.

That soft purr died in his throat as they entered the main hall and he saw Jaskier stifle a laugh. The idea that the great White Wolf was hiding such a side to him was utterly absurd. That or maybe he was just overwhelmed with how personal something like that was and that it was, for now, just for him.

All of the other witchers were there, Lambert, Coen, and Eskel all stood around close to each other and there were a few others sitting around or playing gwent. Ciri was also there, sitting and laughing with the others. The only one who seemed to be missing was Yennefer.

“Geralt!” The voice of Eskel sounded in the echoing halls. No one seemed to notice the bard, as they often didn’t

“Where were you last night!” Eskel again called out before Geralt could respond.

“My attention was needed elsewhere.” Geralt said without looking to Jaskier, which Jaskier appreciated. He didn’t need all of Geralt’s family hounding him for stealing Geralt from them.

“Oooh I see. The lady Yennefer required some extra training, hm?” Lambert called in response, failing to wink at Geralt as he called. Geralt felt Jaskier bristle beside him but the bard said nothing.

“Uh no? Yennefer was with me most of the afternoon. I’m pretty sure she went to bed after we finished training.” Criri piped up. Calling out the inaccuracy of Lambert’s guess.

Jaskier relaxed slightly but not by much and Geralt felt his chest tighten. The urge to pull Jaskier back to bed and lay there in a comforting embrace the rest of the day weighed on him.

“Oooh I get it, taking some alone time Geralt?” Lambert continued. Geralt didn’t justify his taunts, he continued into the room, Jaskier at his side. He and the bard got some of the breakfast Visemir had made for them all. They sat down together close enough to participate in the conversation but far enough to separate themselves to have their own conversation. It was not lost on Geralt that spending time with Jaskier hadn’t even occurred to Lambert as an option despite their shared entrance.

“What will you do today?” Geralt asked Jaskier, making the effort to start the conversation.

“I’m not sure. I’ve been cleaning up the library most days, it's a mess in there. Honestly Geralt you’d think witchers never read with how much dust there is.” Jaskier spoke softly, not wishing to draw the others' attention even if he knew they could hear him.

“You’ve been doing that on your own?” Geralt was very familiar with the keep’s library. Every witcher was literate and he had often enjoyed the books kept there in his days of training. Cleaning and organizing the thing was not an easy task. The room wasn’t grand but it was large and he could remember the state it had been in when he was last there.

“Unless anyone volunteers to join me, I suppose. It’s just something to do and sometimes I get to spend a few hours reading. Put to work my education so to say.” Jaskier jokes. Geralt had often forgotten how well learned the bard was. When they were on the road the only real place he could use his skills was the various noble courts Geralt found himself in. A luxury Geralt had often taken for granted.

“Do you enjoy it?”

“Yes? It’s certainly better than some of the other chores Visemier has had me doing.” Geralt smiled at that, remembering his own first time learning all that had to be done for the keep to make it work.

“After my hunt today, I will join you. If you would like.” Geralt honestly found the idea completely uninteresting. But he didn’t want to leave Jaskier alone for too long here. Clearly that had been a mistake, leading the bard to completely lose his self value. Geralt could not let that happen again.

“Actually, I was thinking I should start coming with you for training…” That took Geralt by surprise. Jaskier hadn’t really shown any interest in learning to fight, he hardly needed it. But Geralt would be more than happy to help him learn and if it meant keeping the bard safer.

“I don’t- I don’t want the other witcher’s there to mock me, but maybe after the library you could help me.” Geralt remembered how Ciri’s early training had gone, working herself to the bone just to keep away the torment of the other witchers. Then nearly killing herself though the trials because they had convinced her that was the only way to be strong. That strength was the only metric to judge worth.

With Jaskier's self-worth so fragile now, he understood his hesitation.

“Of course. Do you have training with a sword or dagger?” The question wasn’t mocking. It was honest. Something to gauge where to start.

“I have my formal training as a Viscount and I picked up a few things after I couldn’t rely on you anymore. I’m not completely incompetent with it but I’m far from good.” Jaskier sort of laughed at the way his style of swordsmanship had developed. The thought of Jaskier learning to use a weapon after Geralt abandoned him stung. The image of his bard scared and threatened, holding a blade he barely knew how to hold let alone wield all while Geralt was somewhere else on the continent not even thinking of him. Geralt moved his hand to cover Jaskier’s in a controlled action.

He had to make sure he was still there, that Jaskier’s life hadn’t ended when he left him alone. Jaskier looked away from his breakfast for a moment but again didn’t pull away.

“That’s good. You’re a fast learner too.” Geralt ignored the reminder of his failures and continued forward. This also worked accordingly for his plan of courting the bard.

There were no witcher rules of courting, not like there were with fae or dragons or humans. Witchers were not meant to feel love and thus did not court. Geralt however, had been around humans long enough to pick up on those sorts of things that were meant to show romantic interest.

He was no stranger to flirting but counting was an entirely different matter. He thought of things the bard might like as a first courting gift, things that he would use to prove himself a worthy mate. Things that would prove to Jaskier that he was not taking him for granted anymore, that he was worthy of the bard’s trust again.

It was why he was going hunting this morning. The hunter for the day had the first pick of the meat and would often choose the best of it for themself. Geralt knew that humans who wed or planned to often cooked for each other. They had done this on the path of course, Geralt would hunt and then Jaskier would cook but Geralt had never cooked for Jaskier.

Since he was the one hunting he could ensure the best part of the animal was given to his bard before the others got their hands on it. A small gesture that would symbolize the start of their courtship. This is what kept his spirits up now as he padded across the lightly snow covered ground. Thinking of his bard.

He kept his senses sharp, looking for a boar or deer that would make a fine meal for the keep. Ciri was with him this time, she often went with whatever witcher was hunting as she enjoyed it very much. They didn’t hunt everyday as there was a lot of grain, bread, and as many vegetables and fruits as they could store in the winter but occasionally Visemier would request meat for something. Those were always the best nights, it meant the witchers would be up late, drinking and enjoying each other's company. But tonight Geralt was only excited to offer his gift to Jaskier. That would be the highlight of tonight, if he managed to pull it off.

Ciri stalked silently a few metres away, they were both looking out but she saw it first. She was closer. A stag. Tall and elegant but muscled. A good feast for the keep. Geralt dropped low, letting Ciri do the same. She had seen it first, it was her right to get the first swing in. Geralt watched her stance and technique, noting the improvements and where she still had to learn.

He followed the animal from a different angle in case Ciri only maimed it. Hunting monsters was much different than hunting to eat. Enough damage would render parts of the animal useless, not enough and it might get away. Ciri was getting very good at this Geralt had to commend her for it.

When she finally struck, flinging a throwing knife clean through the air and into the animal with a harsh snort the stag took off. The knife sticking out of it inoffensively. Geralt stood and took chase. Reading his own dagger and aiming for the base of the neck, between the shoulderblades. The spine.

It wasn’t ideal but it would have to do for now. He put effort into his throw and watched as the dagger sunk into the moving flesh up to the hilt.

“I had it!” Ciri complained.

“I know. But we don’t have the time to find another if you didn’t” Geralt reasoned. Ciri seemed to accept this, looking over the animal with interest. Geralt removed his Dagger, whipping it off with a bit of cloth he used for this and sticking it back into its hold. He then did the same for Ciri’s, handing it to her.

“You have improved.” Geralt grunted as he heaved the stag onto his shoulders.

“Clearly not enough.” Ciri grumbled, disappointed in her performance today. Geralt smiled at that, remembering his own drive to be better.

“You’ll get there. You almost are.” They walked back to the keep in mostly silence after that. There was little to say and Geralt was looking forward to spending the rest of the day in the library, something he never thought he’d think in ernest.

Heaving the animal down, Geralt helped butcher it with his mentor. Cutting the part meant for Jaskier himself and instructing Visemier on who to give it to. His mentor looked at him with a raised eyebrow and Geralt felt the sudden need to explain himself. He didn’t.

“If that’s what you wish Wolf.” There was nothing more said about it. Visemier did look at him oddly but that was it.

Soon Geralt found himself at the double door that led to the library, hesitating. He wasn't sure why he was but he was. He could hear the soft shuffle of Jaskiers boots, the hum in his throat as worked. Geralt felt he might interrupt if he opened the door. But he knew that it was this hesitation, this lack of action that had led Jaskier to such a dire state in the first place. The fact that he didn’t want to open the door showed how far he had to go.

He did anyway. This was part of it wasn't it? Choosing Jaskier rather than his own worry of messing it up. This is what he had promised the bard, what he was delivering.

“How was the hunt?” Jaskier’s voice stopped humming to speak to him. It wasn’t flat or disinterested. He wanted to know, he asked not out of politeness but to know more about Geralt’s day,

“It went well. Ciri is improving very quickly. I… I am very proud of her.” Geralt answered as he looked around the library for the bard. He heard his voice a few rows away from the door and walked in that direction.

He found Jaskier, on top of a chair, reaching one of the higher shelves with several books in his arm. It was clear Jaskier had been doing this for a while. The library looked much better than he remembered. There were no longer stacks of books randomly piled up on desks or even the floor. There was little dust where he could see it and the furniture had been rearranged into a more welcoming environment.

The row that Jaskier was currently working on and the section that was a part of was well organized and Geralt could spot around the room. He couldn’t quite make out the system as to why Jaskier chose these sections but there was clearly a system he was working by.

“You should tell her that. That you’re proud of her. She doesn’t hear it enough for all she’s been through.” Jaskier pointed out and Geralt knew he was right. The sudden thought that Jaskier would make a good father brushed against him and something instinctual inside him clicked into place.

“I will. How would you like me to help?” Geralt changed the topic. He felt sort of useless standing there watching as Jaskier methodically placed each book in his arm on the shelf, moving some other books around as we went.

“I’m almost done this section and then I'll show you how I've been fixing the library.” Jaskier looked at him finally as he said this. Conveying that this was not a rejection of the offer but a message that he understood Geralt needed his guidance to actually help him. Geralt was fine with this.

“In the meantime, tell me more about the hunt. What did you catch?”

“A stag, it wasn’t the biggest I’ve seen but will feed the keep for tonight.” Jaskier hummed again, to show he was listening but too concentrated to respond. It was an interesting reversal of roles and although Geralt would have normally let the conversation die he pushed forward again. Making the effort.

“Ciri got the first hit in. She nearly took it down.” Geralt let his pride show in his daughter and Jaskier smiled like that.

“But then you took it down? I suppose you’ll be getting the ‘best cut’ then?” Geralt shut his mouth. Jaskier was well aware of the witcher tradition, having lived with them for several weeks. And due to how big a deal the other witchers had made it on their first hunt. Geralt said nothing about what he planned to do. A surprise was more romantic right? Jaskier might like it to be a surprise.

Geralt felt his cheeks warm at the decision but he again decided to say nothing.

“Right well that’s that one finished.” Jaskier, forgetting his question, finished the section and stepped down to take a look at his work. Checking that the books were in the right order before turning back to Geralt with a slight blank stare.

“You were going to show me your system.” Geralt reminded him and then delighted seeing the recognition come back to Jaskier. Then he began explaining and Geralt listened intently. It was something vaguely familiar, sections based on the content or theme of the book and then each book arranged based on the author. It was honestly not as difficult or complicated as he had expected. He saw that it was only taking so long as everytime he picked through one of the piles on the floor he often found himself walking back and forth across the room multiple times.

Jaskier talked for the both of them as he often did but Geralt felt proud for the amount he had contributed. Asking the right questions, humming at opportune times, reminding jaskier of the topic when he got too concentrated on organizing the books.

They spent about two hours just sorting and organizing. It was oddly peaceful, they couldn’t really hear the noise of the rest of the keep with the doors closed. It was secluded in a way Geralt wasn’t really used to when he came to Kear Morhen.

It was like they were back on the road again, posturing to some court for a few extra coins. He missed it. Those two years spent alone after the mountain were near torture. His mind kept wandering back to the bard shouting at him to go after him, find him. The other side knew he would likely never be welcomed at his side again. But then he didn’t get to make the decision, he needed Jaskier, the only one he could trust at that moment.

After Yennefer betrayed him, he spent nights on end wishing it had been Yennefer he sent away on that mountain. Nights remembering how open and honest Jaskier had always been with him. Even with his life on the line Jaskier had told him what Vizimer had planned for Ciri. Yennefer had never extended that same courtesy.

Looking at him now, long chestnut brown hair, cornflower blue eyes, long red coat covering quiet strength. The domesticity of his movements, the books in his arm as he sorted. He wondered how he had missed it, how could he have possibly thrown this away. Jaskier was looking back at him now. That familiar confused fondness that Geralt recognized so often on his face.

“Thank you for helping Geralt. I know this can’t be your idea of fun. No doubt you’d rather spar or something similarly obnoxiously masculine.” Jaskier poked. Geralt smiled at this.

“I’ll get to do that later, when I teach you to wield a sword.” Geralt answered as he placed another book in its place. They were very close, working in the same section of shelf. Had Geralt wanted to he could lean slightly to the right and his shoulder would press against Jaskier’s.

He did.

A small moment of intimacy compared to their sleeping arrangements but it still awoke that flood of warmth in his heart, his lungs. The fluttering that filled his mind as he felt Jaskier lean back.

“That will be hardly a spar- I don’t think I could even hold my own against Cirilla let alone you-” He was interrupted by the door slamming open. The harsh noise echoing through the stone hall and startling Jaskier quite thoroughly and distracting him from current thoughts.

“So this is where you’ve been.” Yennefer stood in the doorway looking as perfect as she always did. Despite the force it must have taken to throw the heavy wooden doors open she looked as nonplussed as ever. She directed her question only to Geralt, only sparing Jaskier a single judgmental glance.

“Yes.” Geralt’s tone was neutral at the surface but both the other two could feel the tightness just under the surface. Yennefer looked slightly bereft at the short answer. Jaskier felt a small pride in that and Geralt felt the bard press his shoulder back against him. Something that Yennefer absolutely noticed.

“And what are you doing?” Yennefer’s tone was equally short as she eyed the two of them.

“Organizing books Yennefer, this keep is or dreadfully unorganized. Some one must do it if we are to see the rise of witchers again.” Jaskier answered for him, adding his own flare that didn’t quite conceal the undercurrent of disdain he held for the interruption.

“I was looking for you Geralt. I thought you might help me with something.” Jaskier recognized her tone and his blood boiled. The same tone that always came right before Geralt walked away from him and into the witch’s tent. The tone of a woman enticing a clueless man into doing what she wanted. The tone that Yennefer often spoke to Geralt in when she wanted something from him. The only tone Yennefer spoke to Geralt in when she wasn’t mad at him.

Geralt heard the heartbeat of his bard pick up at her words, he felt his own lurch painfully at the reminder of mistrust. Jaskier thought he might leave, expected him to leave. At only those simple words. At a time he would have.

“I am busy at the moment.” Geralt answered feeling the soft purr rumble through him in order to comfort his mate. And Jaskier relaxed if only slightly. He then watched Yennefer bristle slightly, her eyes flicking again to Jaskier and something more than just judgement passed between them.

“This place will still be here, and I’m sure Jaskier is looking for an excuse to be alone again. You know how he gets with his little songs.” The words came out in a false light meant to brighten the mood. When put in the face of a witcher and a bard, no one in the room was convinced.

Geralt felt Jaskier press harder against him when Yennefer suggested Jaskier wanted him to leave. Geralt got the message very clearly. Jaskier did not want him to leave, Geralt did not want to leave.

“I’m sure there is another who would be willing to assist you.” Again he denied Yennefer and felt Jaskier relax a little more. This seemed to light a fury in Yennefer, jealousy clearly written across her scrunched face.

“Is this what you do all day bard-” She stopped herself, the rage simmering below the surface now licking out like fire at the bard.

“Surely there are more useful things to do with your time Geralt, let the bard mope. Come on, the others are waiting. Besides… I need you.” Again that tone came at the end only now with an air of desperation. It was an unnerving slip up that cost her the conversation. One she would never had made in the early days of their relationship. She wouldn’t have needed to convince him at all, he would have simply compiled at the first ask.

“My attention is here.” Geralt’s tone rose slightly, Yennefer had overstepped here. Belittling his bard, his mate, as she had done countless times before and expecting to get away with it.

“And I’m sure Jaskier can make his own decisions about the company he keeps.” He heard Jaskier suck in another breath. He was surprised, surprised but pleased at Geralt, directly defending him. In his tone, his words, his stance.

Geralt stepped slightly in front of Jaskier, shielding him unnecessarily from the harsh words. They were both well aware that Jaskier would jump at the chance to battle wits with Yennefer but that would mean Geralt leaving him undefended.

Choosing Yennefer.

So he did, hearing the skip in Jaskier’s heart as he moved and seeing the dark look flash behind Yennefer’s eyes. This was his choice, he stood by it.

Choosing Jaskier.

As he did, he saw the anger nearly consume Yennefer as she stared at them. Mostly at Jaskier which set the witcher on edge. He hadn’t realised the slight heavy breathing that he was doing until he felt the warm press of a hand at his back. Out of sight from Yennefer, Jaskier calmed him. He was telling him that it was ok, to let it go. Maybe he should, they would be rid of Yennefer soon enough and then it wouldn’t matter.

He would get his bard back, in the manner much like before but so much better. He would do it right for him. For them. Both because it was what Jaskier deserved of him and because he wanted to be that for him.

He didn’t want to stand down, but it did. It was upsetting Jaskier that made it matter. He remembered the warmth of his touch, the soft words to calm himself as he turned his attention back to Yennefer.

“Right well, if you choose to punish yourself through harsh poetry I won’t stop you.” Her tone was biting as she insulted him again. Geralt felt all that calm he had worked for leave his body as the words left her mouth. But before he could do anything about it she had turned and left, leaving the doors open in one last rude gesture.

She had a habit of that. Getting the last word in before the other could respond properly. Geralt assumed this was part of her desperate plays for control over situations. Having experienced so little of it in her life, she now fought for it at every opportunity.

Geralt heard Jaskier sigh behind him and he resisted the urge to kiss that discontent off his lips. What he did do was grab hold of the wrist that sat at his back and pull Jaskier into an embrace. He wanted to do this correctly, not ruin his courtship through rushed expressions of affections but he could tell that the bard needed it.

“Geralt, I am not so fragile as to crack under a few off-hand insults by the bridge troll of the keep.” Jaskier laughed but reciprocated the hug, resting his head on Geralt’s shoulder with ease.

“I know. You may be one of the most resilient people I've ever known.” Geralt whispered into his neck, relishing in the jump in pulse under his lips. He could stay here for the rest of the day, the rest of the year. Soon, Jaskier would be his, properly. Because he earned back his trust and properly courted him. The way that someone as lovely as this deserved.

“We should stay here for a while longer. Yennefer may have my head as soon as I step out.” Jaskier laughed, genuinely, at the thought of Yennefer finally being jealous of him. Had her feelings for Geralt been genuine, Jaskier might have even compared their pain.

“Hm.”

“Would you still like to learn to fight?” Geralt pulled away finally, letting Jaskier do the same.

“As much as I would love for ‘harsh poetry’ to be a weapon, I would still like to be able to defend myself.” Jaskier laughed but Geralt could hear the restriction in his voice. He was a delicate heart, a poet’s heart as he so often referenced.

“As much as I would like to agree, there is credit in your three decades spent alive and well.” Geralt pointed out as he continued with his task of sorting. Jaskier huffed at this.

“If you call living on the run, kidnappings, monster fights and murderous witches, alive and well.” They both smiled at this. There were no barbs here, nothing to indicate malice or blame. Geralt had long understood that Jaskier had never blamed him for these things, as it was the dignity of his own decisions that earned these consequences.

Jaskier did not ask to fight because he believed Geralt unworthy to defend him, he asked to fight to be a better asset in Geralt’s life. As much as Geralt hated this reasoning, he also wanted Jaskier to be safer and this had that side effect.

It also gave the opportunity for Geralt to enact the next step in his courting ritual.

First a gift of luxury, to show his intention.

Second, a gift of protection, to show his devotion.

Geralt planned to fashion a fine blade with an antler hilt, made from the same stag that he would offer his courtship with. It seemed the type of poetic gift that Jaskier would be drawn to. Through this he could prove himself.

They wouldn’t see Yennefer again until dinner, when both Geralt and Jaskier had returned from the training grounds after their first lesson.

As promised there was no one else out there, no one to laugh or mock. No witches or child surprises. Just the two of them. They did not spar, Geralt wanted to gauge his talent and it would be an unfair fight.

Jaskier’s style, as promised, was different from anything Geralt had seen. He had the formal posture and stance of a nobleman but he often displayed cheap tricks and fought dirty. Geralt oddly thought it suited the man, for all his silks and jewelry Jaskier often sought the use of lies and gambles to survive.

He was not skilled of course, Geralt had expected this. But he knew how to handle a blade and was not nearly as clumsy as Geralt might have expected. All of his time swinging and wielding that lute showed ever here. Jaskier’s fingers were nimble and he was strong. He got a feel for the blade quickly as Gerlat expected, from there he learned quickly.

It would not be long before he was a decent swordsman. He wouldn’t match any of the witcher’s or even Ciri at the end of the winter but it would be enough to help him on the path. A fair fight for any average thief or assailant.

“You were right.” Jaskier looked up from where he had hunched over, out of breath.

“You are a fast learner. This will come quickly to you.” Jaskier gave a weak smile before returning to catching his breath and then speaking.

“I enjoyed it. It’s nice to not be judged for my inability to do something I’ve never needed to learn.” Jaskier jabbed and Geralt suspected this was probably a sore subject for the bard. Which was why he had asked there to be no one here while they worked.

“You’re a good teacher, much less condescending than my other teachers. Treating me like a real person you scamp.” Jaskier winked at him as if his basic decency was a flirt in some way. Geralt understood that in most places, decency for a man like Jaskier would be seen as interest and thus only the harshest words were spared. God forbid a man look as if he was interested in another man. He had seen it many times before, mocking men, shouting insults to his character. It hurt him, Jaskier deserved so much more than that.

“Everyone deserves patience.” Geralt chidded as they walked back into the keep where dinner was being prepared. Most of the others were already in there, a few setting tables or rough housing. Ciri and Lambert were chatting and joking, while Yennefer listened near them.

Her’s was the only head to turn when the two of them walked in. Again that bristling anger radiated off of her at the two. Geralt ignored her while Jaskier gave his own look back. The same defiant stare that he had given her in the library, the one of patience yet triumph. The one that told her he knew he would win. And he has.

It took until the food was served for words to pass between them however, when Lambert noticed the cut of meat that Jaskier ate from.

“Wait, I thought Geralt did the hunt today?” Lambert stood up, bending at the waist over the table slightly to get a better look at Jaskier’s food. The other witchers around had their attention drawn there as well.

“He did, I was there.” Ciri confirmed, her attention also being drawn to Jaskier’s plate although she wouldn’t recognize the cuts of meat like the witchers would.

“Oh Shit! He gave it to the bard!” Lambert jeered after inspecting Geralt’s plate as well. His shout definitely got the attention of the rest of the hall and more importantly, Jaskier himself. The bard set down his fork, now also inspecting the two portions and then a look of realization crossed his face. He also was not equipped to identify the different cuts but enough contest clues spelled out exactly what had happened.

Geralt, who hadn’t looked up from his own dinner, looked up just to see that look. To bathe in cornflower blue light for a moment as the bard realized.

“What, what is it?” Yennefer’s voice sounded, she seemed to be the only one out of the loop.

“Geralt gave the best cut of meat to Jaskier? Gods know why.” Ciri filled her in, unaware of the secret meaning behind the gesture. Jaskier stared at him, he still hadn’t touched his plate again, simply looking to Geralt as if he might find an explanation on his face.

“Gods know is right, maybe because the bard can’t hunt?” Eskel reasoned to varied agreement from the others. Yennefer was not convinced, she saw the look shared between the two of them.

“What is going on between you two? First that little display in the library and now this. I’d be half convinced you’ve put some sort of spell on him, Jaskier. If I didn’t know you were an incomitant.” Yennefer lashed out before her mouth could shut fast enough. It was so out of pocket even Ciri turned to look at her with confusion. Lambert and Coen as well, who had both been sitting around Geralt and Jaskier.

“What display in the library? Was that where you were all day?” Ciri turned to look at Geralt now, the same question that played on all of their minds.

“I was helping Jaskier to clean the library. It had been neglected for some time.” Geralt quirked in the way he often did when he knew he was being smug.

“It seems our friend’s interest in prospects has shifted.” Coen spoke this time, half mocking Geralt for his very public display of affection. Geralt saw Yennefer bristle at this, she was losing her foot hold in the keep and she couldn’t stand it. He also caught Jaskier’s look of fondness mixed with pride as he understood more of what this meant.

Yennefer was at sort of a loss for words as she watched the interaction. This was sort of the planned reaction Geralt was looking for. This was not a get back at Yennefer, he would not do Jaskier the indignity of making it about her. No this was about Jaskier’s understanding of his intentions. That was his only goal.

“I don’t think such a simple gift is worth that sort of reaction.” Yennefer defended her desperation to regain control showing.

“Are you joking? Might as well have the ceremony now.” Lambert joked, clapping Geralt on the back for his new found desire.

“As if someone like Geralt would ever be interested in someone like that. It’s probably some mistake. Go on, Geralt take it back. I’m sure there is someone much more deserving of this sort of brutish affection.” Yennefer continued digging her own grave and forcing that rancid smell of jealousy down all of the witcher’s throats.

“Brutish? Only you could call a thoughtful gift brutish and then still expect to be on the receiving end Yennefer. I for one found it to be a lovely gesture.” Jaskier defended before Geralt could get a word in. Geralt was quickly reminded that, although he would like to defend Jaskier as often as possible, Jaskier would equally like to exercise his sniper tongue.

“I was just saying-”

“We know what you were saying Yennefer, I don’t even have to be a witcher to smell the stench of jealousy coming off of you. Honestly, for a person of your stature, I would be embarrassed.” Yennefer’s face lit up with shame as Jaskier tutted at her like she was an out of turn child. There were a few chuckles at the interaction. Lambert was holding in a laugh as he watched Yennefer’s reaction. This only seemed to further the anger in the mage.

“Ugh- Geralt?” Yennefer sighed and then turned to Geralt as her last resort, asking him to defend her. He simply tilted his head like he was confused as to why she would ask and said:

“You do smell of jealousy.” That broke the dam, Lambert nearly spewed out the ale he had taken a swig of specifically to keep from laughing. Jaskier was also giggling politely behind his hand. Yennefer gaped like a fish at them before standing indignantly and walking out of the room.

Ciri was also now giggling and everyone was watching her leave. Except Geralt. Geralt’s eyes only rested on Jaskier as he looked back. Sharing a moment of slight confusion as Jaskier tried to ask why this sudden show of care. Geralt knew there would be time for all of that later and gave him a reassuring look. Trust me, it said.

Trust me.

Jaskier only nodded, looking back at his plate and smiled before continuing to eat. He enjoyed dinner much more than he ever had that night. It was nice to not be tip-toeing around his words while Yennefer was there. Or worrying that he might be on the receiving end of one of Geralt’s withering stares. He felt more relaxed than he had since coming here and he supposed none of that would have happened without Geralt. His new found effort to please the bard and now apparently gifts.

Jaskier wouldn’t actually know the meaning of the gesture until the end of the night, just as Geralt had planned. When the other witchers would wind down after a night of light drinking and more rough housing. Jaskier stuck around for the night but stayed near Geralt for the most part. This went unnoticed by none of the other witchers, least of all Geralt who felt no small swell of warmth at the small intimacy. His mate felt safer closer to him, he was doing it right. Something in him felt entirely satiated at the thought. Nearly drunk on the dopamine his inner wolf was receiving from the entire night.

His nerves only really picked up at the end of the night. As he walked back to his room, his bard in toe he felt his heart rate pick up as they got closer. He would tell Jaskier his intention of the gesture and Jaskier would either accept or decline. Then he would begin the courting. Gifts and showing of strengths. It would be the final acceptance from Jaskier that he believed Geralt capable of regaining his trust completely. Then the real test began, consistent choice of Jaskier every time, interspersed with gifts, flowers, dates. His mind went heady with the thought of it. Of having Jaskier in such a context.

He stood in front of the bard now, alone in their chambers.

“Jaskier?”

“Yes my dear?”

“Do you understand what the meaning of the gesture at dinner is?” Geralt wanted to make sure, if he already knew there would be no need to make it awkward with unnecessary clarity even if he probably would anyway.

“Would you explain it to me witcher?” Jaskier’s tone was soft, nothing but fond acceptance.

“I wish to begin courting you.” His tone was formal but inviting and he saw something even softer pass over Jaskier as he continued.

“If you accept, I will begin. I want you to know your acceptance will not determine my effort to rebuild your trust. But if you would have me. Jask. I would be yours.” When he looked back up he saw tears pricking at the edges of his bard’s and he immediately stepped forward, taking his forearms to see what was wrong.

“Oh Geralt- you’re such a softie at heart. How did I manage to end up with the squishiest of witchers in all the continent? Sorry- I just didn’t expect this so soon…” He looked lost for a moment, searching for the correct words.

“I- I have not been convinced of your loyalty. You can not expect that of me. Not yet. But- But I can not deny that even still my heart calls for you. So please Geralt please. Before you offer this to me, be sure. Be sure that you will not leave me again. When I say be sure I mean it. It will break me Geralt, and I have only just now seen the light of the sun again.” His eyes turned away from him. Truths spoken out loud that he had never admitted before.

“I have not been kind to you, I am going to change that Jaskier.” Geralt reassured but Jaskier waved him off. He knew. He knew that already. He wanted more.

“Jaskier, my heart, I have found what pleases me. I was too… scared to see it before and you have suffered for it. But I will be worthy for you, I swear to you that. As the friend you deserve or as yours, I swear it to you.” Geralt pressed his forehead to Jaskier’s, closing his eyes as he spoke.

“...Yes, you big hunk of soft hearted-, I accept your courtship. I may not believe it yet, that you are willing to do this for me but I'm sure you will go to the ends of the earth to prove it, you dramatic man.” Jaskier sighed playfully, a sound that filled Geralt’s soul on its own. It would be enough to hear his bard content like this the rest of his life. But now… now he was his.

“Although I’m not sure it is right to share a bed this early in the courtship, let alone before. Think of what the church will say. How scandalous of you witcher.” Geralt rolled his eyes as Jaskier fought to compose himself.

“A witcher’s courtship is more brutish than a nobleman’s.” Geralt joked back, referencing Yennefer’s earlier comment.

“Good, a decade of foreplay and I think I deserve to indulge in a little brutishness.” Jaskier looked back to him now, his tears dried.

“In that case…” Geralt lent down to sweep Jaskier off his feet and into his arms with a slight yelp. Geralt let his throat rumble against the bard, reminding his mate of his comfort and warmth, as he carried him to bed. Repeating the same motions as last night, removing both of their boots as well as his armor and Jaskier’s coat and vest.

Jaskier was pliant under his touch as he laid back down, taking him back into his arms for the night. Geralt pressed his nose against Jaskier’s neck, inhaling the sweet smell of wild flowers and honey. Nothing of the sadness he had smelled previously. There was still a long way to go, trust to be built and tested. But for now. For now they will rest.

As he laid there, scenting the bard over and over again, convincing himself this was real, he felt the urge to mark him. Seal the bond with a dark bruise and a bite mark. He would restrain himself until the period of courting was over. That was proper, formal. Jaskier deserved for this to be correct, so for now he would settle for long, deep breaths at the base of his neck and the ghosting of kisses that made Jaskier’s heart flutter.

“...Geralt.” Jaskier’s voice was slightly strained as if he wanted to pant out the word.

“You smell very good, Jask… I apologize, is this too fast.” He moved away to look in Jaskier’s eyes, searching for discomfort.

“No, no Geralt. Just what are you doing?” Oh right, human. He knew Jaskier’s senses were slightly heightened due to his part elven heritage but he also knew they were nowhere close to a witcher’s.

“Scenting you.” Geralt responded, after sensing no discomfort he moved back to continue, hearing Jaskier’s heart skip again. He was enjoying this.

“Is that the thing where you invasively read my mood through my scent?” Jaskier jokes, poking fun at him even if he was thoroughly loving the attention.

“Another brutish witcher courting ritual.” He felt Jaskier shake a laugh before settling again, he himself smiled against his skin.

“Then by all means Geralt. But don’t be surprised when I fall asleep. There is only so much relaxing purring a man can handle before he passes out. Especially after the training today.” Geralt hummed in response. He hadn’t even realized he was still purring, it felt so natural. So right for Jaskier.

His Bard, His mate, His everything.