Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jaskier was summoned back to Lettenhove, unexpected and quite surprised by the short missive. It was wholly un-informative. Only that his mother wanted him back.

It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d written, nor the first to summon him home.

The Countess sent messages throughout the years, often imploring him to stop walking around after a Witcher and to settle down like a good Viscount should, a nice wife, and a few children. 

It never stuck with him. It really wasn’t his role in life to settle down with such things.

This time however, was the first to see his mothers signature accompanied with Dowager.

Fuck.

It’s been a hard few months. First, Jaskier had the, possibly, worst break up of his life, and it wasn’t even with someone he’d ever slept with. True, he’d certainly thought of it, who wouldn’t have? But really, losing one of the, possibly, most stable links that remained as a constant in his life certainly threw him off kilter.

Second would have to be that the cities were becoming unsafe. Not in general, no, they weren’t overrun by bandits or what have you, just that they were starting to round up anyone who was portrayed as other. The dwarves, the elves. Surely it wouldn’t be long until those that stood out of the norm were taken too. It wasn’t surprising that Jaskier and those he counted as his friends stood against such a thing. 

So yeah, a hard few months.

And losing his father, after the fact, seemed almost trivial. 

He’d never had been close to his parents, they doted on his older sisters, but as the youngest and only son, it was his duty to deal with the aftermath. They couldn’t pass on the inheritance to Natalia’s husband until he went to Lettenhove. 

Which suited him perfectly, he never wanted to be stuck in such a stuffy little box the inheritance would force upon him. Natalia, as the eldest, would have been in line for the inheritance first if she had only been born a boy. She was raised with the knowledge of the house, the keeping of the accounts, and Jaskier certainly had not been. Her husband, Jakub, was a kind man, and quick witted. Something Lettenhove would benefit from long term, rather than a flighty poet who cared far too much and could rarely make up his mind. Jakub would make a good Earl, leaving Jaskier with the viscount title to be then bequeathed in his will to one of Jakub’s potential sons. 

That however was far in the future and it would almost be a three week trip from his current situation, at Oxenfurt, on his own with no horse and no company. 

He’d certainly traveled alone for plenty of his life. He’d been comfortable in his own company, comfortable with traveling by foot, before Nilfgaard started stirring up the South. 

No, it certainly wouldn’t do to travel southwards alone, nor by foot.

Boat, it was.

He was fine with boats, really. Half of his childhood included boats. But it had been quite a while since he had used his sea legs. 

Nevertheless he was on the next boat towards Kerack. 

Line Break

Jaskier climbed off the boat and was embraced by his sisters, waiting at the port for him. A rough laugh was forced from his chest as he greeted each with a kiss to their foreheads. 

It hadn’t been something they’d done in a long while, and they were happy to accept his affection, “Dear sisters, I am glad for your patience, it has been an arduous journey, I can only imagine how difficult it must have been for you to keep calm under my absence.” He said dramatically leaning into Maryna, the second eldest daughter.

The eldest sister, Natalia snorted in response, rolling her eyes in exaggerated teasing, “You have no idea, little brother. All you boys are so rude and uncultured nowadays. It’s a war zone for marriage.” 

Jaskier had been absent for the marriages of Natalia and Jakub, and had missed that of Maryna and Augustus, but he had heard the two were quite brilliant together. Though, he did manage to send a gift for Karelian and Adrian’s engagement, a fancy Redanian telescope for Adrian’s ventures at sea. 

He had missed all actual weddings. Not really his scene these days. Not in the last decade or so. 

Little Helena, actually only minutes older than Jaskier was, had been engaged for three months before the betrothal had ended abruptly, when her betrothed managed to lose his composure and his head. No one really knew what had occurred, but Alfred and Margaret hadn’t rewrote a betrothal for her. 

Jaskier was loath to do so in his fathers stead as well. Helena could find her own way in love if she so chose. 

Jaskier tsked towards his sister, “The youth these days are so uncouth, how can anyone expect more from them.” He rolled his eyes squirming out of their grasp, “Now, are we walking home or did one of you bring a cart or wagon here?” 

Maryna rolled her eyes as they pulled back, “You expect us to have walked here? The carriage is just off the docks, Marek is standing guard.” 

Jaskier straightened, “He’s still around then?” 

Marek had once been a stableboy for the family, but his loyalty and steadfastness saw him promoted wildly through the ranks to guardsman. And, unfortunately for Jaskier, was one of many people in his homes estate that had the joys of knowing how bad Jaskier may have once been in bed.

Karelian noticed the slightest look of apprehension in his eye and laughed, “Come now, Julian, he’s a married man now. There’s no need to worry.” 

Jaskier smiled sheepishly as they walked out of the port to the awaiting carriage. Marek greeted him with a courteous nod, one required of his station as the only son of the Earl, and Jaskier resisted the urge to smack the guard. 

He had never been one to stand on ceremony. 

He used to travel with a Witcher for fucks sake. That’s as far from ceremony as you can probably get these days. 

Nevertheless they got into the carriage and Marek closed the door, giving a false sense of secure silence to the family. 

“Tell me, dear hearts, what’s toward? How has it been? How is marriage?” Jaskier said with a glint in his eye. It had truly been years since he had last seen his family, and as the youngest it was his job to be a little shit.

It earned him the customary eye roll, but Maryna answered nonetheless.

“Well, I am getting old now, which means children soon. The midwife says I am expecting two girls this year, and I believe I will name them Maria, and Nadia. If they’re girls, of course .” She looked towards her brother who smiled softly. Natalia had unfortunately had no children to pass the lineage to so far, but it didn’t mean Maryna or Karelian weren’t hopeful to obtain the line. According to the sporadic letters, Jakub had not stopped trying either though. 

While Maryna was positively glowing in her pregnancy, Karelian was not yet showing, though her last letter to Oxenfurt had declared she was carrying. 

“Brilliant, darling. And you, sweet Helena, what are you occupying your days with, without a man to sully your shadow.” Jaskier teased to his side, where Helena sat, all upright and proper for just a moment. 

Then, Helena roughly leaned against him, “Much better than I would be if a man did choose to sully it, I spend most of my time in the library or at the altar.” 

Ah, Jaskier had forgotten that Alfred had brought in a few statues of Melitele when they were all young, trying to shove their skulls full of religious nonsense before going to the temple schools. It was just as bad as when he decided Julian was to be a proper son and learn sword fighting. Mistakes not to be repeated and not oft to be mentioned.

“And the sea, Karelian?” He continued, as the carriage pulled them into an open stretch of road, it wouldn’t be long now until they rounded the bend and the estate would be in view. 

Karelian shrugged, “Adrian has been fruitful on his trips. He brought back a few shiny relics last week from Kovir. He’ll be sad to have missed you, but he and the crew are off by Skellige as it stands.” 

Jaskier grinned, Adrian and he had met as boys, and the two rascals had been quite fond of each other. Jaskier was quite overjoyed to hear him joining the family. 

He may have been less enthused when Augustus joined, but that wasn’t exactly a high bar anyway. And Jakub was shifty, certainly, but nothing worth mentioning there. 

“Geralt took me to Skellige once or twice. Watched him fight this wondrous beast, a giant sea serpent. Now, Oxenfurt was of the belief most were gone, only a few stragglers left in the sea, but, phew…” Jaskier grinned.

Geralt had not been there to fight said serpent, but when it happened upon their boat… It was one of the few times Jaskier had seen Geralt fight with such vigor, something akin to fear in his eyes. Understandable, in hindsight, the Witcher might have had plenty of experience with Kikimora and Griffins, but the sea was its own beast.

He could remember the moment clearly, it even had its own ballad with the encounter. Unbidden, he felt a heat rise to his cheeks.

“Are you hale, brother?” Helena asked carefully, a hand outstretched and feeling his cheek. “Mother had almost expected you to arrive with your Witcher in your shadow.” 

The double meaning there from the previous conversation made Jaskier’s blush fade, “He’s unfortunately busy, and I am well, Just in my own world.”

Karelian laughed, “As you are like to do, dear.” 

Jaskier inclined his head at the light tease, just as the Estate came into view. It had been many years since he had seen his mother. Many more since he’d been home. To say he was nervous would be an understatement.

But he set his shoulders as he listened to his elder sisters talk trite as they pulled up to the house.

All too soon Marek was at the door opening it and helping out his sisters one by one, keeping his hand extended for Jaskier last. 

He gave it pause before taking the sturdy hand and stepping down off the carriage.

Taking deep breaths he tried to compose himself, running through the scales in his mind as he bowed to greet his mother.

She gave a moment of pause before pulling him into her arms, “Oh, Julian, I haven’t seen you for so long,” she murmured as she held him tight, pressing a kiss to his forehead after he stepped back.

Jaskier smiled ruefully, “I know. But I am home, and I am sorry for my absence.”

Countess Margaret tsked, “Nonsense, you can’t chain a bird and expect it to sing as beautifully as you do, even your father knew that.”

Jaskier blushed.

Margaret was always the gentlest with him despite her sharp tongue which really was a trait desired in the court of Kerak, a trait most of his sisters emulated.

Julian turned and looked across the courtyard at the house where he had spent the majority of his childhood. He smiled as vague memories washed over him, before following his mother inside.

At the office, a tea set and many papers lined the desk. It was an old desk, one Jaskier could firmly imagine his father sitting behind as he worked and examined reports from the land; it felt almost out of place with the tea set. 

Alfred wasn’t one for tea, preferring something much stronger as his drink of choice, and the delicate glass set atop the wooden surface made the whole thing slightly unsettling.

Margaret went about pouring two cups as it was at a proper temperature, while Jaskier simply stood awkwardly in the doorway waiting for some sort of advice on what to do next. 

“You’ve grown,” She finally spoke, “And your hair! How have you managed to keep it so soft and thick? You must have been working hard to keep it like this on your travels. Have you found any suitable suitors?”

Jaskier shifted nervously under her intense gaze as they both sipped at their tea.

“Mother,” He began slowly, “I am of the opinion that I will be a confirmed bachelor, I have no suitor that has struck my fancy for more than a week.”

Margaret scoffed, “I have heard your songs, my boy. You’re enamoured with your fair beauty, perhaps you should settle down with her?”

Jaskier raised an eyebrow and his cup, “My… who?” 

Sure, he’d sung of many women, and certainly he had many a love song in his repertoire, most of his own making, but they… who?

“Don’t play coy with me, Julian. You’re in love and you're constantly singing it. Tell her, your unnamed fair beauty and settle down. I care not if it’s here or in bloody Kovir. I just want you safe and loved.” She spoke softly, but the tone of her voice was enough.

Julian felt as though someone had slapped him across the face.

There was no way. His mother couldn't possibly know about his heart, and he hadn’t the time to write any truly scathing songs about Geralt anyway. There was very little in his songs about a fair beauty that didn’t include Geralt after all. Which really did just turn the knife.

“Mamma! There isn’t… I’m not… it’s none of your concern,” he sputtered.

Margaret rolled her eyes, setting down her teacup and turning away from her younger son, “So you won’t even tell me her name then?” she asked.

“What? No!” He cried out. “There’s no name to give, I mean!” Jaskier shook his head, “Please, let’s focus on why I’m actually here.”

“We have all the files laid out for you on the table, Julian. We know how scatterbrained you can be.” His mother said shortly.

Jaskier took it in stride as he followed her hand wave to the table, the sooner he signed the family estate over to Jakub the sooner he could go back to his own travels. 

“Wonderful, how much of a mess did the dear old man leave behind?” Jaskier muttered softly, stepping up to the table to glance through the pages.

Margaret shot him a dirty look, unimpressed, “He made his affairs in order, as much as he could. Jakub has been handling everything wonderfully in your absence. There are, however, things only his blood son can use or touch.” 

Yes indeed, Kerack might have been heavily a piracy nation, but blood ties were heavily important. His father had, until the day he met his destiny, tried to bring Jaskier home. To no avail, of course.

Jaskier nodded and internally set himself for a day of droll signing of papers in his name and changing them to Jakub and Natalia’s. 

As he read the last will left behind, he nodded to himself. Gifting Karelian the sea-side cottage (with two floors and a garden it rightly shouldn’t be considered a cottage) made sense with how she longed for the sea and her husband, though was seasick just boarding a boat. And ensuring Helena’s dowry would also be generous was the least the old man could do. He glanced up to nod at Jakub as he entered silently, a brief incline as he traced over the words before signing off.

As he continued through the files, Jaskier paused over a treaty with Kaedwen. It wasn’t often treaties were crafted with those outside your border. Half-hearted alliances, sure, but an actual treaty? 

Not done that often. Jaskier started to read through it as it dictated maritime trade deals and was very careful to avoid the term piracy. It was an unspoken rule it seemed for other kingdoms to not mention the piracy acts of Kerack. An unspoken secret that everyone and their mother knew, he had always assumed.

The deal with Kaedwen, according to the treaty here, dictated cargo being untouched and always reaching its targets, with an extraneous clause for severe weather and sea monsters. In return, a strip of land given in good faith, and a generous sum of money would be handed over every five years the treaty kept. 

Considering some treaties fell within twenty years, some within a single year, it wasn’t the most impressive. However, the strip of land, up in Kaedwen, was.

He looked over to his mother, “Do we have a map for the lands in our holding?” 

It was a stupid question, he knew that, but it was always better to act the fool than to show off to his parents.

The Dowager Countess rolled her eyes and pointed to some rolled scrolls on the bookshelf, “Alfred was getting ahead of himself when they came into his hands.” 

Jaskier frowned and grabbed the offending scroll, unraveling it to see what Kaedwen deemed useless to them but useful enough to hand away without bringing insult to the treaty. 

“I never knew this map was part of our lands.” Jaskier said with incredulity, tracing over the Gwenllech river. The map showed the northern half of Kaedwen, which was mostly mountains and a few spots of towns. 

“It was a recent development,” Margaret lifted her nose with a sniff to the map, “A maritime trade treaty between the supplies of Kaedwen and Kerack. Though, mostly we ensure it doesn’t go missing on its voyage on the sea. The land was something Kaedwen could part with, nothing is there but barren land and caves filled with monsters.” She said with disdain, yet Jaskier’s eyes watched the map carefully, filling in empty space with his mind's knowledge, carefully drawn notes in a multitude of books he had crafted over the years. Just looking at what the map outlined included a township or two as well. Though the supplies they had would likely be sheep or wool. Not much use to Lettenhove.

“Barren land? Which is why Kaedwen was happy to part with it.” Jaskier said, looking over to Jakub as he said so.

His mother however, nodded, “King Belohun couldn’t rightly keep it himself, or so he claimed, so he passed it off to the nearest fool who’d accept. Your father. Alfred thought it would be good for you to scout it with your Witcher, perhaps there’s something salvageable from the mountains, but I wouldn’t hold my breath.” She told the two.

Jaskier kept his eyes on Jakub, “You’re the most experienced with the maps, brother, anything in that area of Kaedwen?” 

He tested the waters softly, the strip of land on the map went northeast of Ard Carraigh though not including it, which, notably, was the town he used to part with Geralt in in the winter. Yes, most of it was certainly uninhabitable mountains, snow, monsters, and treacherous valleys. But, the Wolf School was surely up in those mountains.

Jakub tilted his head, “There’s likely a good amount of iron in those mountains, or silver. Not much we can’t get elsewhere. We’re the sea-nation. Anything on the waters can easily go missing, let’s not play games here.” He looked across to Margaret, “Sending Julian might yield results, sure, but the amount of trolls or whathaveyou is certainly a deterrent for any mining operations.” 

Jaskier pressed his lips together, “I’d also be traveling without my Witcher to get there. With the upheaval of the south, things are… tense.” He didn’t lie, it just wasn’t exactly why Geralt wasn’t likely to bring him anywhere near there.

“Witchers work for coin, boy.” Jakub laughed, “We have plenty of that. I’ll send out a messenger, asking for a Witcher to act as a guard and guide. It’s easy money for them.”

Jaskier nodded slowly, not entirely sure if he was ready to follow a random Witcher into the Path northwards. Geralt didn’t really talk much about the other Witchers around. He had maybe two names outside of Geralt’s own that he could probably name, and even then, it wasn’t much to go off of outside of ‘He’s a good man’, or ‘Absolute asshat’. 

“Sounds like fun.” Jaskier stared at the map, and tried to force a grin, “Where do I sign?”

Margaret rolled her eyes, “Julian, do remember going to the area is part of your filial duty, I expect a better map when you return as well, and if there’s any villages in the area they should know they’ve come under a different rule now. Hill-folk they may be, but Kaedweni and Kerackan politics are different. Though, I’m sure with a chaperone you can’t get in much trouble, even if it’s a Witcher.”

Jaskier bit the tip of his tongue and nodded, “Yes, Mother.” 

He looked down at the map. It was just turning to autumn, he could make it there and back before winter if luck was on their side and a Witcher was nearby.

“Jakub,” Jaskier started carefully, “You’re the one with experience in my family's coin, be a dear and draft up a Witcher contract. Make the pay good too, it’ll be a few months of a journey, best make it worth their while.” 

Jakub visibly restrained himself from rolling his eyes as if to do so was a cardinal sin. “And what price do you propose? You are the expert in Witchers, dear Julian.”

Jaskier stared at him for a long moment trying to think how much he could reasonably request for a Witcher. To hire an armed guard for the same job over many months would have been close to ten thousand or more, deposited in a bank, never to be carried. But a Witcher usually didn’t have a bank vault. 

“I’d suggest twenty thousand crown. But that’s a ludicrous and ridiculous amount for a Witcher to carry, perhaps jewelry or something of equal worth that the man could sell for coin elsewhere.” Jaskier said with a calm demeanour, as if he had not just said something completely out of the woods, double almost of what an ordinary guard might require. 

Jakub stared at him with a slow glare, “I can make that work if my lady dowager agrees. It is, after all, your wealth as well, Countess Margaret.” 

Jaskier flicked his eyes to his mother and stood (well sat) firm in his decision. She slowly nodded, “If the Witcher can keep my boy alive, and return him alive, I’d give him fourty. Add that to the contract, Jakub.”

Jaskier could feel his fingers tingle as Jakub sniffed and wrote down a short note, “It’ll be posted within the day at the Port and at the town center. It’ll be on the morrow for it to reach Kerack proper.” 

Jaskier nodded and turned back to the papers. Most of it was drivel, things Jakub would deal with when he took over. 

“Is there any particular reason to be signing the betrothal contract for Helena, mother? I thought the poor bastard died.” He fingered a parchment carefully, reading the date and people involved.

“Alfred was going to try setting her up with the brother. Feel free to burn it.” She waved her hand, “I need not another body to deal with.”

Jaskier frowned but said naught. That would be for later, with him and Helena alone to discuss.

He turned back to the papers. Perhaps they weren’t all drivel.

Line Break

Jaskier had been in Lettenhove for two days. The first, mostly filled with paperwork and promptly passing out after dinner. The second, much of the same, though luckily the paperwork ended at noon. 

With a sigh Jaskier leaned back in the old chair staring at the papers with a sore head and back, “Done.” 

The Countess raised an eyebrow with a smirk, “Would you like applause for something most noble sons do anyway?”

“Save your applause for a performance, Mother. I, on the other hand, have a sister to talk with.”

She merely raised her head with a slight tilt, “I’ll summon Jakub and continue to sort these papers. You need no escort on our own estate.”

Jaskier smiled tightly and left the office space, heading almost directly to the library, almost barreling headlong into a servant or two on his path. 

Skirting around the door he took in the room. The library was quite large, and rather ornate. Old bookshelves and tables scattered along the walls were lined in books, maps, papers and paintings. A table where some of the family portraits and a small statue of a lion were mounted on the wall. There was an easel set near the window, as well as a fireplace that held a fire. 

And there she was: Helena, seated at a small writing desk next to it. Her head was bent over a quill and paper, she didn’t look up, only shook her head at his presence. So he continued to approach cautiously, and waited until she finished what she was doing. She glanced up towards him and jerked slightly, moving to cover up what she was writing.

“Julian! ” she exclaimed, quickly dropping whatever she was doing and flipping the page over, smoothing her skirt. Standing, she came around the desk quickly towards him and held out her hands towards him as if to hold him back from the table, looking anxious or worried, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone else, it’s just… It, eh, the library hasn’t seen many visitors these days.”

“I know. And I understand.” He took her hands gently and pulled her close, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and then resting his forehead against hers as he hugged her. She might have been his older twin, but he had luckily ended up taller and larger, unseeming for a bard if he lost his frippery, but good for a noble son.

Helena stiffened at first, but relaxed into his arms after a moment, hugging him tight. She seemed smaller, more frail, than usual. Her hair was pulled back from her face to reveal tired dark circles beneath her eyes that he could only see so close to her. Most wouldn’t have thought to look. “How is everything in fathers office?”

Jaskier waved his hand flippantly, “Paperwork is easy. I’m more interested to hear about you. It must have been hard, dealing with the hand destiny gave you. Your poor betrothed, I heard such awful rumours as I traveled.”

Helena perked up slightly, her spine seemingly straightening in the hug as she craned her neck upwards towards him, “What type of rumours could have reached your ears, brother mine?”

Jaskier tilted his head, “A little this and a little that. I run with Witchers, rumours aren’t always the best when they get to me. Some say he died from poison, some a wire ‘round the neck. But I’d rather hear it from you. Knowing our sisters, they certainly won’t have lent you a shoulder you weep into.”

Helena bit her lip, a white indent to the normal rose, and looked to the window, “I need no shoulder to cry on, Julian. Or to mourn. Tomasz was a bastard.” Helena gripped onto Jaskiers shirt as she stared at the window and easel as she spat, “I am gladdened to not spend my days, and my nights, as his wife.” 

“Did he lift his hand towards you?” Jaskier asked softly, running a hand over her arms. He knew the rumours of Tomasz’ heavy hands, but had hoped his father would have looked into such things before a betrothal and showed them to be false.

Helena’s gaze narrowed and as she spoke there was a ghost of laughter in her tone, “Once. Three days later he was missing his head, and I, having misplaced mothers brooch...”

Jaskier swallowed roughly, not ceasing in the comfort of his sister, “The bee one or the peacock?”

“Peacock of course, I’d never part with the bee.” Helena replied softly, as if the very question was ludicrous. Then she sighed, pulling away to look at him and wipe her tears.

Jaskier pulled back and wrapped his arm protectively around her shoulders, “You shouldn’t let them hurt you, dear heart. You go and find someone new, and if you love someone, don’t give them up, even if it pains your heart.”

Helena laughed, though it sounded more like a sob, “How can you be so calm after what I said?”

Good question, Jaskier supposed. It must be to do with the utter insanity chasing a Witcher in love with a Sorcerer does to the mind. “I’ve heard worse.” He ended up saying, “Besides, you're not holding a village hostage for your husband to sate his villainous urges, so you're doing better than some.”

Helena blinked a few times, “You’ve really encountered that?”

“Darling, I’ve encountered so much worse.” Jaskier laughed, “But tell me, when the brooch got misplaced, was there a name left in return? I’d love to thank whoever freed you.” 

Helena shook her head, “No. And I didn’t ask. Never saw the medallion you write about either.” 

Which certainly put Jaskier at a disadvantage to thank people, but perhaps that’s for the best.

“You know,” Jaskier said a few minutes later after they migrated into the comfort of the couch, “Mother is sending me North, I’ll likely be gone within the month.”

“Where to?” She asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I’m having a trip to the land Kaedwen ceded to Kerack. Just waiting on a double sworded escort, with high rewards.” Jaskier smiled, “It’ll prove interesting, at the very least.”

“With a Witcher you don’t know?” Helena frowned slightly, “Is that safe?”

“Safer than trusting a man in my experience. Also depends on who shows up I suppose. I’ll be fine.” Jaskier leaned over and kissed her on the forehead, “Now come on, we’re going to the kitchen, like we used to. Tomorrow’s another day that will always come.”

Line Break

Schrödinger was used to being slighted on contracts. And trying to get on with just himself was hard enough. Keeping an injured brother at his side was unproductive, but there’s no way he was letting him go alone. 

After a few shit contracts in Verden, and after a fuckshow in Nazair, entering the small kingdom of Kerack couldn’t be worse. 

Schrödinger kept walking until he found himself in a not-quite backwater village, he walked through the streets looking for a notice board. Most places had them on the main path, the easiest place to see any Witcher walking by and easiest place to be seen by one. And this place was no different.

Luckily, it seemed that there was only the most ludicrous of contracts on the board. It was absolutely unbelievable, unlikely, and it certainly felt like a trap.

Too much of a good thing, you know?

Schrödinger pocketed the paper and headed back into the woods where he had set up a small camp, falling down into a rolled out blanket draped next to a log.

“Got us a possible contract. Some noble blood wants a chaperone North, supposedly pays good too.” Schrödinger started without preamble, as he lay on the blankets next to his companion.

“Hmph” A voice said from beside him, the only indication that his brother was alive. Wonderful companion, really. 

Laying on his back, Schrödinger stared up at the cloudless sky above them. It was late afternoon now, which meant that they had been here less than originally planned. Well, to be fair to them, he had hoped for a fighting contract he could get done that night rather than a vague ‘delivery’ contract. 

Ah well, if the nobles even pay half what they’re proposing, it would set them well enough for winter.

Which is definitely how the two found themselves at a large estate, with sprawling trees verging on the edge of decoration and use, and a building larger than useful. Schrödinger looked down at the paper in his hand and shrugged, knocking on the door.

There was a muffled yell inside and a scramble. Theoretically any human visitor wouldn’t have heard it. Then again, Schrödinger never claimed to be human, not before or after his mutations.

The door was wrenched open and a girl? woman? How did humans age? A woman opened the door, her dark hair braided and a plain but fancy dress kept her looking ready for any guests. 

“Witcher! Ah, two Witchers! How wonderful, Mamma was getting twitchy with Julian.” 

Schrödinger tilted his head, curious, “Is your mother the Countess? The one who wrote this out?” He handed over the contract.

“Jakub wrote it, but Mamma enlisted his help for it. Julian’s been getting twitchy too now that I think of it.” The woman scrunched up her nose, “He’s not used to being in one house for so long.” 

She said it as if it were a secret, which it most certainly was not. Even Schrödinger, who had no idea who Julian was, could tell it was a tease.

“Right. May we enter?” Schrödinger asked.

“Hm? Yes! Sorry!” She turned and held open the door with wide eyes, tracing over them. “Julian says Witchers have medallions. I don’t see yours.”

Schrödinger grimaced, “Sometimes it’s not the best to show which school trained you. Witcher politics. Where might we find the Countess. Or Jakub, was it?”

“Yes, he’s married to Natalia. Augustus is much more level headed I think, not enough to run an estate, but he’s certainly not bloody ruthless about specks of dust. I’d kill him myself if he started complaining to me.” She muttered with a frown. 

“Right. Sure.” Schrödinger muttered looking around the halls as they followed the woman. 

“My name is Maryna, by the way. I should know who I am to welcome to Mother too.”

He grimaced, “Schrödinger, of the Cats. And my brother.”

“Does this brother have a name?”

Schrödinger could practically hear her roll her eyes, “Aiden. Also of the Cats.”

Maryna nodded firmly as she rapped on a lounge door, sliding it open after a moment.

“Mother, Jakub, Sisters, may I introduce the Witchers, Schrödinger and his brother Aiden, of the Cats.” She said all proper like, making Schrödinger internally grimace, though his outward expression barely twitched a muscle.

“Splendid, ladies, leave us. And send Julian in from the music hall.” The Countess, or what Schrödinger assumed to be the Countess, said.

The ladies wasted no time scurrying out of the room.

“Sit, Witchers.” The man, Jakub (as Schrödinger’s best guess can give) said, “We have plenty to speak on.”

“Then speak, boy.” Schrödinger said, carefully sitting to not ruin the soft fabric that nobles oft used to back their chairs.

Jakub bristled and frowned, “The contract we offer is simple, keep my brother-in-law alive on his journey to investigate new land ceded to our family. I’m told the price we offer should suffice, by a reputable source.”

That sent alarm bells ringing in Schrödingers head but he nodded slowly, “It’s a good price, especially to keep one man alive.”

The Countess regarded him seriously, “Julian is my only son, and he is a troublemaker. He’s been traveling on and off through the years, but often has a guard of sorts with him. He’s well versed in keeping himself alive, starting fires, and what was it he was talking about last night, Jakub?” 

Jakub grimaced, “He was entertaining your daughters with the ways to memorize plants and poisons, as if that is proper knowledge for women to know.” 

“Indeed,” The Countess looked over to Aiden with a slight frown, “As you can see, he’s a handful.”

“How long is the trip?” Schrödinger asked, calmly reaching over to grab Aiden’s arm. Not to restrain him, not yet anyway. But the tension in Aiden’s shoulders told him it was best to be on guard on both ends of this conversation.

“A few months, it’s far north in the mountains of Kaedwen. I’d half tell you to also ensure he is brought home, but his attention span is missing. We told him to come home in a letter once for a wedding and he showed up five years late.” The Countess said with a snide look to the doors.

As if summoned, a mop of brown curled hair popped around the corner, with the build of a soldier but the face of a child. Schrödinger paused, “I assume you are Julian?” 

“You assume correctly,” The man said, a slight grimace to his lips, “Are you to be taking this contract, fine sirs?” 

“I’m no Gryphon raised, boy. You need no propriety with me, we’re Cats.” Schrödinger said.

Julian inclined his head, shielding his eyes and the shot of intrigue that Schrödinger picked up, “I have everything packed, maps and a few copies of the treaty too. If it pleases you, sirs, then I shall retrieve my bags.”

The Countess cut off anything Schrödinger might have said, “Fetch the bag from your fathers office as well, it has all the gems and trinkets in it for their pay.” She regarded their dress for a moment, “We figured gems would be worth more than a stack of gold.”

In Schrödingers experience, they most certainly were, and it also depended on where you went to get it converted or sold. 

“We’ll accept. Been meaning to head North anyway.” Schrödinger lied through his teeth. He wanted nothing to do with the Wolves territory, but the pay really was too good to pass up.

He watched the man bow before vanishing back out the door.

“I do hope ear blockers work on Witchers.” Jakub muttered across the room.

“Ear blockers?” Aiden said softly, and Schrödinger tried not to wince at the rough gravel of his brother's heavily unused voice.

“Julian is a musician. Never shuts up, Helena, his twin, used to say he sang in his sleep.” 

Schrödinger hummed, it wouldn’t be too bad to have his own bard on the road. Surely it can’t be worse than having Aiden shut down and taciturn after the attack. Luckily the humans here were smart enough not to mention the eye patch or the red raised skin marking his brother. 

Within ten minutes, the three were outside by the gates of the estate. It had been an oddly teary goodbye from the sisters, and stiff from the gentlemen and Countess. 

Julian appeared ready to walk quite a distance, with a good pair of shoes and a light coat, two bags of supplies and a bloody lute wrapped over his shoulder. 

Aiden tilted his head as he watched but Schrödinger was more concerned about all the things the man had with him.

“Is all of that essential?” He muttered, staring at the full bags.

“Well this one has your pay and the maps, and this has everything I need to survive. It’s only a bit extra weight then what I’m used to,” He nodded towards the house, “No sense taking my sleeping roll with me in this weather. I’ll buy one later if it gets awful out, but I’ll be fine.” 

Schrödinger was starting to like the human already, “Well, can you play and walk?” He asked, gesturing to the lute.

“Hoh, can I ever.” There was a moment of rearranging the bags until the lute rested nicely against his front as Julian strummed the instrument. 

Music filled the Path as they walked out. It was both the easiest and most unclear contract he’d been given. It wasn’t common for nobility to search a Witcher to protect their children, less common to trust one for an undetermined amount of time with said child’s safety. 

And if they did trust them, they trusted Gryphons or Wolves. Not Cats. 

Even less, two cats, one clearly injured.

But Schrödinger certainly wasn’t going to question the whims of nobility.

As the afternoon sun began to dip towards the trees Aiden and Schrödinger fell into their normal routine of setting up camp quickly. It was slightly early, to be sure, but human eyes didn’t see that well in the dark and with a human charge, camping early was for the best.

As Aiden set the fire, Schrödinger tossed him packs of rations, and grabbed his bow. He paused for a moment looking at the human who appeared to want to do something but didn’t want to get in the way. 

“Until we learn what you’re good at, just sit down, boy.” Schrödinger suggested, nodding to Aiden, “Help Aiden if you want.”

Julian inclined his head, “As you say, sir. I’ll help anyway I can.” 

Schrödinger looked between them and nodded, clapping Aiden on the shoulder before disappearing into the bush, hopefully for some real meat for dinner. 

Line Break

Jaskier was grateful to have a Witcher guide that actually spoke this time. The unfortunate part was that he would probably throw his heart over all that much quicker when the man spoke. 

With Geralt he never had to worry about smelling like love or lust, it just became part of his regular style, the horny bard who fell in and out of beds like he fell in and out of love. Surely, he did fall in love with each and every one, but it was fleeting, and it was fast. 

Jaskier set down his bags and gathered what looked to be some good logs and passed them over to Aiden, unbalanced at making conversation.

With Geralt, he wouldn’t hesitate striking conversation and wouldn’t bat an eye when he’d grunt in response or grumble under his breath. He could ask about his day, his latest hunt, even a scar or two. But certainly he couldn’t and wouldn’t behave the same to the new Witcher he was with. 

He hoped they’d like him, despite him being a contract to them. And really, even if they were friendly, maybe it was to make it easier on themselves for the trip to Kaedwen. Even if they secretly wished he’d, oh who knows, fuck off? Ok, he might still have a bit of resentment lingering in his skull. 

Schrödinger at least seemed friendly, but Aiden was cold. And silent. Which was his normal experience to Witchers for the most part actually, making Schrödinger the outlier here.

Jaskier busied himself unwrapping a loaf of bread and cutting it up, having stowed it away that morning as he passed by the kitchen (taking the long route to his room). 

“I can smell your anxiety.” Aiden muttered, his voice rich and not as deep as Jaskier expected.

Jaskier looked over to the fire, “Oh, well, it’s a long journey is all.” It was a white lie, but the fluttering of his heart most certainly gave him away, if the Cat Witcher could hear it.

Aiden looked back passively, narrowing his eye, “We’ll ensure you’re returned to Lettenhove in one piece. You’ll be fine.”

“It’s not my safety I’m concerned with,” Jaskier looked at the Witcher carefully, to see his reactions, “I’m a Bard, you know? When I’m not gallivanting around with my siblings. I don’t know how you Cats are, will be, with my… me. I like to be liked, that's all.”

Aiden nodded slowly, looking him over, “I’m sure you’ll have time to play for a willing audience in taverns and such, I’d like to do a few actual contracts on our way north, if you don’t mind.” It was said snidely, but Jaskier took no mind.

“I carry plenty of coin and things to sell for you, but I also have my own purse. We won’t be wanting for money, but I do understand the need to be out there doing what you're made for. It’s what always sends me out onto my own path, me and my restless feet.” Jaskier assured the man. 

Aiden nodded, “Hm. Do you know ‘Toss a Coin’? Towns always pay better if it’s been heard recently.”

Jaskier brightened, heart clenching slightly as he remembered why it was written, “Any bard worth their salt should know that beauty! Why it’s a must have in one’s repertoire.” 

Aiden smirked, “Aye, my friend used to say I was obsessed with the Bard, had a copy of his works and everything,” The smirk fell, “My priorities changed when I lost this.” 

There was a vague gesture towards his face and Jaskier winced. “I thought Witchers didn’t have friends.” 

Jaskier hated his mouth sometimes.

Aiden lips curled, “I probably don’t anymore, only brothers.”

Yep. Jaskier wanted to stab himself now, just let him fall on his own blade, thank you, small though it is. “Tell me about him anyway? I’ll even trade you, a story for a story.” 

Aiden shrugged, “Lambert, of the Wolf school. He was an utter bastard most of the time. Swore every sentence and hated everything and everyone. But always sincere in it. The thing about bastards is there’s rarely a filter to go through, he said what he meant or he huffed and turned away when he didn’t. I was supposed to meet him last year sometime, got ambushed on the way and a rogue brother took my eye and my medallion as proof of my death. I would be dead if Schrödinger hadn’t been nearby, if he hadn’t smelt my blood.” 

It was both an attempt to frighten and a warning, to Jaskier's own ears. He nodded slowly, “Your voice softened when you spoke of your friend, would he truly blame you for missing the meeting after what happened?” 

“That would require me proving I’m actually me before he took off my head. Lamberts the kind of bastard that thinks the world hates him, even if someone tries hard to prove the opposite, one step to the left and he hates it right back.”

“Of the Wolf school, you said.” Jaskier said softly, his eyes flicking to his bag, “Did you ever Winter together?” 

Aiden stared impassively at him for a long moment, “I think I’m owed a tale of my own now, Bard.” 

Jaskier inclined his head, mentally smacking his forehead, of course he shouldn’t have mentioned Winter. 

“What tale would you like? Dragons or Serpents or Family bullshit, my dear Witcher?” Jaskier asked, his mind dancing through the possibilities. 

“A story about dragons? Even I don’t have one of those, let’s hear what you have.”

Jaskier grinned, “I’ll be happy to share. In fact, I’m trying to make it a song as well. Now, it all started with this old man and his two, very beautiful, Zerrikanian guards. There was a lot of flirting involved, and if I remember correctly a hot tub orgy, but that’s telling, isn’t it?” Jaskier grinned, “Of course that’s only the beginning, see, it involved a dragon hunt, issued by a king.” 

Jaskier fell into the role of storyteller easily, barely noticing Schrödinger sneak in from the darkened bushes with some hares, nor did he notice the hares getting gutted and prepped for them. 

He omitted a few details, particularly about his failed proposal and the not-banishment from Geralt’s side, but all in all it was a good story.

“I traveled back down the mountain with the dwarves, wonderful Yarpin, a good fellow. He has a way with words that…” Jaskier‘s sentence was cut off when a haunch of hare was placed in one of his outstretched hands, one he had been using to demonstrate his descent of the mountain in Caingorn. “Oh… Thank you, Schrödinger.”

“Eat, Julian, then sleep. We wake with the sun.” The Witcher muttered, watching him curiously. 

Jaskier nodded, knowing full well the routine of waking on the path after a night of camping. His bag suited him well as a pillow, a bit hard in some spots but well enough, and he used a cloak as a cover. It wasn’t cold yet, and shouldn’t be for a long while, so it did wonders. Really, considering how he had sometimes followed after Geralt sans pack, this was an improvement.

It was easy to fall back into a familiar routine, adding in a second person. Aiden never seemed to hunt for game, so the two of them took turns setting the camp. 

So far, they had only been to one town very shortly, a drop in and out to see if there were contracts. Luckily for the town, and unlucky for the Witchers, there wasn’t. 

It felt slower paced than Jaskier was used to, but he didn’t question it. It certainly brought less pain to his legs and less aches that he needed to treat for his feet.

As they passed through their second town, Schrödinger grabbed a contract on the board, shuffling the other two into the nearest Tavern. 

Jaskier bought them a room, two beds, and ushered the Witchers up the stairs. “You’re heading out then?” Knowing full well that with Geralt he was always supposed to stay out of danger's reach, and with the two new Witchers, he had yet to know the rules they’d work with.

“I’ll be a few hours. Some beasties in the rivers. Play your songs, bard, and both of you rest up.” 

Jaskier frowned but nodded.

Aiden however grabbed hold of Schrödinger’s arm, “I’m going with you. I’m not some kit that needs protecting.”

Schrödinger frowned, “And I can’t fight a bunch of bastards while worried about you. Your coordination isn’t the best yet, wait and make sure the next time you see your Wolf he doesn’t have my head cause I got you more injured by letting you fight too soon.”

Aiden looked like he welled himself up for a fight but deflated, dropping his hand as he dropped his head down, “Fine.” He spat.

Jaskier looked between the two, “I have no business and no need to know, but what’s your reasoning to not let him go. Depending on how many Drowners there are, surely it’s fine. Cats are faster than most, or so I heard?”

Aiden straightened at Jaskier's reasoning, eager to hear Schrödingers own, “Cats can be faster, sure, but getting cocky loses your head faster than anything. Aiden doesn’t have the choice of being cocky right now. He can walk and eat without getting hurt, but with claws? That type of precision comes with practice.”

Aiden nodded again, knowing full well that it was true.

“Isn’t it better to practice under the watchful eye of a brother than being dropped in his own contract?” Jaskier pushed. 

It wasn’t that he wanted them both gone, but it was something he was used to. Indeed, it was more that he wanted Aiden to be happy as well. And moping about in the room or the tavern downstairs was not conducive to anything.

Schrödinger regarded Jaskier carefully and nodded, “Hm, suit up, kitten. Guess we are going hunting.”

Aiden’s head bobbed as he lurched to his feet, “Yes! I mean, right. One moment.” 

Jaskier smirked and grabbed his lute, moving to the door as he let the two Witchers figure it out.

He bartered with the owner, arguing to play in his bar and bring in plenty of coin from the customers who would come listening to his music, in return for some free meals and drinks. And a bath to be brought up, already paid for, but that was mostly because the smell of rot in the rivers would turn customers away when the Witchers return. 

It was a song and dance Jaskier knew well. Compared to the White Wolf, the Cats didn’t eat nearly as much. Or, they were not yet comfortable eating as much in front of Jaskier, whom they still called Julian after a few days. Honestly, he wasn’t quite sure if either of them made the connection yet, despite the towns folk sometimes calling him by his preferred moniker. 

He really needed to work with the two on that, it was slightly getting on his nerves, itching his skin, at every reference to his birth name.

Names aside, Jaskier was enjoying his time, generally, with the two Witchers. 

They talked often, both of them, and Jaskier learned both also enjoyed listening to his songs. 

By the time the two returned, drawing the eye of the Tavern, Jaskier was deep into his set, having started with Toss A Coin just to ensure it was on the mind of the audience. As it was, he was working his way through a rowdy ballad. He finished it off and gave pause, “And our dear heroes have returned, victorious in saving the village I am sure; as they always are. Now, my friends, I’ll be just a moment.” 

He waved to the worker as he scurried to the Witchers, “Injuries,” He looked them over seeing neither favouring a side, “Or are you both well? I have food on its way and a bath in the room. Cold, but I’m certain your Witchery magic can heat it.” He made a poor attempt at the Igni sign. 

Schrödinger nodded, a puzzled look in his eyes, “Our thanks, Bard, you didn’t need to do that.”

“Nonsense, it’s the absolute least I could do. I’ll be up later, I already ate, so I’ll bring you up your platter after this next song.” Jaskier grinned. 

Aiden tilted his head and pulled Schrödinger up the stairs. Jaskier shook his head, knowing the two weren’t all too believing of him yet. That’s fine, they’d have at least a few months to figure it all out.

Line Break

Aiden tossed his blade in his hand, catching it by the hilt as they walked down the rough path, as Julian wrote in the small brown leather book he carried.

Aiden kept himself aware of Julian’s actions. It was unclear, a human was capable of doing things of such hate and vitriol he couldn’t even imagine. Well, he could. 

Julian did seem like a different sort. For example, walking around without a bedroll in the middle of autumn was not unheard of, but certainly not common among nobility, rather it was even uncommon to most city and towns folk too, And yet, Julian had done it. Aiden was almost sure that humans wouldn’t be able to do any of that with a clear head and a firm decision to do so. 

By the time they had hit Mirthe they had been testing Julian’s skills. He could barely throw a knife properly and yet still somehow manage the same, or better, dexterity and control with both hands when he used his lute. With no weapons on the table, it proved quite simple. The Bard was capable when it didn’t involve a sharp edge it seemed, but bludgeoning people with a lute seemed a lot more dangerous, if less deadly. 

That’s fine, Aiden could be deadly enough for the both of them.

On the other hand, Julian seemed reliable in taverns, always buying or earning their meals, and he’d pay for a bath for them, no matter if the tavern was run down or had the fanciest shit around. He knew the Bard was taking baths too, but it was never in the same room, or never at the same time. 

They never had to worry about the Bard nearby when they were defenseless. Sure, Aiden and Schrödinger took turns to ensure neither was actually defenseless, but that was different.

With three hunts, and no severe injuries, under his belt again, Aiden felt a bit more like he used to. 

It was hard, trying to fight when his depth was completely wack, but he made do. Hunting was easier. Mostly because most game wasn’t actively attacking him.

As he lugged a large deer back to camp he thought further about the Bard. They’d seen him cook what they’d brought in, a skill definitely honed as a traveler, but did he know how to skin and prep the meat as well? Perhaps he was with a caravan of sorts and was lucky to just cook the food. 

Aiden stared at the fire from the shadows, giving a slight huff as he moved and dropped the deer at Julian’s feet.

Julian’s head shot up, confusion written in the lines of his forehead and his scent.

“We’ve seen you cook, let’s see how you prepare it.”

Julian gave a short nod and grimaced, feeling the heat of the animal beneath his hands, but the disgust was minor enough to barely bleed into his scent.

Aiden flopped onto his roll and let the Bard work, closing his eye. It wasn’t easy, letting one eye have all the strain. And it wasn’t like Swallow could regrow the missing piece. 

Aiden listened to the methodical movements around camp, and the quiet cursing and fluttering heartbeat. He smirked, if nothing else, the Bard proved a good traveling companion, even if his directions were currently in the vague realm of ‘we’re going northeast. So we just keep walking.’ 

Aiden heard Julian stand and move closer and squinted out at him. His face was illuminated by the firelight, nervous.

“Sorry, I know you’re resting, but I know that Witchers don’t need cooked food as much as humans, and well, it’s also said by some that certain body parts help you heal? That the heart was full of nutrients.” He shoved his hands forward, the still warm heart of the deer, not quite as bloody as it could have been, resting carefully there. 

Aiden furrowed his brows and gingerly took the heart, his own beating faster. Witchers had lost much of their culture, if it could ever be said they had one. But one thing of certainty remained, to give a companion the still warm heart of the beast was near enough a proposal. 

Sure, the Bard didn’t know, the poor man didn’t know much about Witchers as it was, but he wasn’t… incorrect. The muscle was certainly the best to eat to get your body strong again, though no Witcher knew why.

“And I didn’t forget about you, dear heart,” Julian said, tossing a grin to Schrödinger nearby, before heading back to the deer and lifting up another slice of… something. “Liver. Not the best for healing, but you said there’s no injuries right now? It’s also great for nutrition, right?”

Unlike the heart, there wasn’t much to surround the liver in Witcher Tradition, but it was often considered, at least with those of the Cat School, that the liver represented kinship. To give it or to share it was an offer of brotherhood.

Again, something the Bard could never have known. 

“You read a lot of this stuff on Witchers, Bard?” Schrödinger asked, the liver in his hand now.

“A bit. Most of it is word of mouth. I used to have a very reputable source.” There was the slightest twinge of anger in the scent full of, what could only be labeled as, smug gleefulness. 

Aiden looked down at the heart and bit into it, letting the heat overwhelm his senses, the remnants of the blood it once pumped filled him. 

Not half an hour later Julian was cooking over the fire, and hanging up pieces to dry over the smoke as well. 

Impressive.

Not that Aiden would say as much. 

“I’m working on a song,” Julian said, sitting back a ways from the smoke as he watched the food cook, “It’s not finished, but I’d like your ideas and critique on what is.”

Julian looked unconventionally nervous. Aiden had been listening to the music since leaving Lettenhove, and the man was certainly up there with the greats. So there was no doubt in his mind the latest would be nothing short of fantastic.

Julian strummed a few chords with his lute, before he started to sing. Unlike most tavern ballads or rowdy songs this one was slow. 

“The ticking clock, instead of a chore,

Moves me with such an interesting roar.

I’ll catch a moment then freeze it in time, 

Making an imprint deep, of the beauty sublime.”

Julian filled the vocal silence with a few more strums, before starting again, this time however, in Elder, “Egum alistar aep ymladda ‘ep khomer aé credu, aé gälla'en me haeil, aé'ss'neén odwrót.”

Aiden noticed that Julian’s words came out smoother than usual, and even his accent was perfect. Which shouldn’t have been a surprise, but most humans couldn’t match the melodic sounds of Elder.

I’m ready to fight for the things I believe, I stand in my courage, I will not retreat.

It had the beginnings of a sad little song, something he and his kin usually wouldn’t hear by a trained Bard. It might have been something found at the fireside of the Caravan, but he’d not been back in quite a few years anyway.

Aiden couldn’t help but relate to the song as it was, Julian certainly couldn’t know they knew Elder, something the older Cats had taught them, especially as most Cats had inhuman bloodlines, one of the most common reasons for them being handed over here.

Unbeknownst to Aiden’s internal turmoil, Julian continued, “Each step brings more danger, the stakes are desperate and grim. Fighting for love, with joy and despair, each step of the way it can be found here and there.”

Aiden looked across to Schrödinger who was looking impassively ahead, letting the song roll over him. Aiden knew his older brother was listening, but also was keeping an eye on the surroundings. Aiden glanced to the fire as Julian played the lute, checking on the meats and ensuring they were not yet burning. 

Julian took that moment to keep singing, “Clinging to dreams, and the things we swore, with courage and hope there is something to adore. Aé caíra aen minne aep eius geas an eius strid, trage aep eius saov an tearthne życie.”

Aiden frowned, wondering what could have inspired the song to sound so familiar to him, and his life.

I fell in love with his curse and his strife, drawn to his spirit and fearless life.

 He looked over and realized Julian wasn’t just playing anymore, instead he appeared to be holding onto the instrument as though for dear life, as though someone were trying to take it from his grasp, his knuckles that played the chords tight, and his jaw set, an unshed tear in his eyes.

“Tra sztorm an ymladda, aé darganfod me macche, an zvaere, foilé vatt'ghern, me cyrre ghreamaínn. Ader het ess neén aep ninnau esse, Cáerme’s kalle stella ninnau saor.” Julian sung the last notes carefully, setting down the lute after and brushing free his reddened cheeks.

Aiden felt like his heart was in his throat. It was one thing to hear songs about Witchers, it was another to hear it echoing his own life. He wanted to say something, do something to break the tension that hung between them, perceived possibly only to him. 

Through storm and battles, I found my match, a swearing, angry Witcher, my heart attached. But it was not for us to be, Destiny’s call set us free. 

He didn’t have enough words to convey all of the things running through his mind right now. 

He settled for a simple question. “What was that about?”

Julian hummed and moved to check on the meat, “Freedom, I suppose. Destiny. Love. It might hold something different to each that hears it.” Julian kept his head low to not see their eyes, but it didn’t hide the anxiety filling the air.

“That’s a lot of emotion for a song about Witchers.” Aiden commented quietly as the meat was flipped, “Not many would hear it and respond well. Especially with the Elder.”

Julian wrinkled his nose, “Hen Llinge has been here for longer than humanity, so they can fuck right off.”

Aiden smirked. What a refreshing view.

Line Break

It was easy following the Pontar on the south side of the large flowing river, but Schrödinger was getting increasingly more antsy as to how deep in Wolf territory they were getting. When the Bard was directing them further North at Hagge, Schrödinger felt his throat tighten, “That’s dangerous, Julian, Kaedwen not only hates Witchers, but it’s not our typical hunting area.”

Julian stared at him unimpressed, and Schrödinger felt the odd need to duck his head. 

The Bard fit in well, he put up with their toxicity, with the ‘zoomies’ as the older generation called them. He even stitched their wounds and cooked their food. It wasn’t like he distrusted the Bard, but the wolves? After barely getting Aiden back from one failed assassination attempt, he wasn’t ready to face the Wolf Schools terrains.

“We are heading much farther North than this, kitten,” Julian said with a frown, “You’ve protected me this far, surely a few more days will be fine.”

“We’re in wolf territory. Or we will be.” Aiden explained, looking towards the Pontar.

“Wolves and Cats don’t get along. Bad blood.” Schrödinger explained.

“Surely they won’t attack.” Julian frowned hard.

“This close to their school? Most Witchers got protective, especially when it was after the purges. So few left, the schools in ruin, there was little else to do than protect the place you called home… The place your kin is buried.” Aiden said, softly, reaching up to rub his scarred cheek.

“You don’t have to follow me,” Julian said with a frown, “I’ve traveled to Ard Carraigh before, and from it. I know this path, it’s fine if you go.” Despite his words there was a bitter scent from the Bard.

“We’re not leaving.” Aiden said, turning and glaring at Schrödinger, “I will not leave you alone in a hostile land.”

Schrödinger huffed and turned back around, watching the ground for any traces of movement.

It was uneasy traversing Kaedwen. He was on constant watch for other Witchers, with their medallion, swords, and scent. The further they got, however, the more Julian called a halt to their trek to draw out something before continuing on. 

Another two days of traveling Julian grinned, “Alright, we’re at the border now.”

Aiden looked over, “Border?”

“This spot marks where Kaedwen turned over land to Kerack on the vow they do not have ships hijacked by the pirates that lurk on their boats.” Julian shrugged, “Now’s the fun bit, seeing if there’s any people in these mountains outside of the occasional monster.” 

Schrödinger looked up to the very obvious mountains hitting the horizon and shook his head, “We’re on the path to the Wolf School, your treaty maker wants you dead, Bard.” 

Julian just shrugged, “Oh well, just call it destiny when I do croak.”

Schrödinger shook his head, “I mean it. Wolf Witchers are bastards.”

“I resent that.” Aiden muttered.

“I can make exceptions for your one bastard of a Wolf.” He huffed,”More porcupine than Wolf.” 

When Julian kept walking forwards, mapping the area as he went, the other two had no other reason to stop following him, and carefully and cautiously followed behind.

Line Break

Jaskier felt his hands going tingly with nerves. He knew how close he was to the Wolf School, he certainly had never been, but knew it was somewhere here. Following the areas on the rough map that he had, the land was mostly unoccupied with little to give.

There were also sheer drops and monsters. Certainly, it wasn’t human-safe. Jaskier wasn’t a fan of climbing mountains with Witchers, especially recently, but it seemed as though he was destined to do so. 

Climbing this mountain was surely worse than the last, however. On the one hand, the path didn’t exactly exist. There were some points Jaskier was sure they were walking on the backs of dead trees with giant holes beneath them should their footing slip. On the other hand, there were three of them. They certainly moved quicker through the underbrush than an entire party hunting a dragon.

“Where exactly are you leading us, bardling?” Aiden snapped, as they set up camp in a small outcrop in the mountain, too shallow to be a cave, too dented to be natural. 

Jaskier stared at the two Witchers and handed over the map, “It’s mostly barren, both Kaedwen and Kerack knew that. But my mother was clear, if there were any on this land they would be informed of the shift.”

Aiden blew out a breath, visible due to the crisp autumn air, “Fucker. You’re taking us up this mountain for the Witchers Keep.”

Jaskier didn’t deny it. Couldn’t, really. But looked into the fire, “It’ll be fine. I know Witchers don’t get involved with politics, but they should know Kaedwen is willing to sell them out, even if it’s mostly barren land and the smaller villages at the base of the mountain.”

Schrödinger huffed, “That’s why you vanished to talk with the Aldermen in the places we visited.” It wasn’t an accusation, but it certainly felt like it.

“Sorta. They needed to know. Especially if Kaedwen sent any men to collect taxes. That’s Keracki land now, they can’t tax them. Only I can, and there’s so few villages that it isn’t worth it. If we need the coin, Adrian could just overtake a single ship and we’d get by fine.”

Aiden frowned, “Who?”

“My sister’s husband. He’s a sea-farer. And you surely know the rumours about them in Kerack.” Jaskier rolled his eyes. If anything Geralt ever said about the other Witcher schools was true, then surely they knew what he was referring to. He knew Adrian had mentioned the occasional Viper boarding his ship, not so much the Cats. “Do you think if we continue our way to the top that there’d be anyone home?”

Schrödinger looked around the remote land and shrugged, “The weather is turning. I’d give us a week before snow hits. It used to be that the Wolves would venture home before the snow got bad.”

Jaskier grinned and nudged him, “Knew any wolves back then?” 

Schrödinger rolled his eyes, “Dead now, but yeah. When the schools were numerous it wouldn’t be rare to share a job at times. Too few of us nowadays.” 

Aiden scoffed, “You’re shit at being friendly. Even among our brothers the others keep their distance.”

Schrödinger glared back and hit Aiden lightly on his blind side, “Good to keep their distance rather than to be shot at.”

Jaskier swallowed roughly, “Onwards?” 

He could swear he heard them mutter curses under their breath as Jaskier pushed himself further up the mountain.

————————————

Lambert was pissed. There was something dark and ugly in his chest for all year. He’d taken Geralt on a hunt that didn’t help at all, even if it was in vengeance. He thought that killing Aiden’s killer would help calm him. Give him a sense of justice in their unjust world. 

It didn’t.

It only served to remind him that good things didn’t happen to people like him. 

Lambert was being careless. 

Taking risky contracts with shit pay. It didn’t matter to him if he lived or not. He lived day by day until his body naturally led him to familiar ground. 

But it wasn’t until an older lady pushed him into a seat and forced a bowl of broth in front of him that he noticed how close to home he actually was. 

“Eat, boy.” The woman, Katarzyna, said sternly, standing and putting the food in his hands and pushing him further into his chair with a hand on his shoulder, “Or I’ll make you eat the food.” Lambert nodded, swallowing the food, “That’s better lad. Now tell me who did that to you.”

Lambert scowled into the food, “No one.”

Katarzyna thwacked his shoulder, “Bah, no one has you looking this rough?

 You’ve been getting too big for your boots, I see it. What happened? Tell me, child.”

Lambert sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling knots from his fingers twisting and pulling. Looking up, Lambert said firmly, “No one,” He repeated, “I’ve been running myself too hard.” He bit out, fishing a hand in his pockets to slam Aiden’s medallion onto the table, “It doesn’t matter anymore. None of it does.”

Katarzyna ran a finger over the snarling cat head, “Some Cats passed by with a human a few days ago. It’s the way of things, is it not, to tell the brothers when one is lost.” 

“I tracked down his killer,” Lambert growled, “I don’t think his brothers will care for it.”

Katarzyna shook her head, “Poor thing. Vesemir told me once you boys are the kind that would always go out with the intention of getting revenge. It’s the way of being the last of your kind, I suppose l.” She sighed heavily. 

Lambert sat straighter, “I didn’t intend to do that, ‘just happened.” 

The old woman waved a hand, “It’s not important. You survived to come home, just need to get up that cliff side. Do you have supplies, lad?”

Lambert nodded, glancing out the window. It wasn’t much of a view. This close to the mountain you mostly just saw trees and large rocks. 

Katarzyna just nodded, “When you see the old man, tell him hello.” 

Lambert rolled his eyes, “I’m sure he’ll come by next year. He usually does in spring.” 

“Always good to say it twice in a year nevertheless.” She said softly, patting his hand as she left to tend to someone else.

Lambert stared after her for a moment and cursed internally. Cat’s didn’t come this close to Kaer Morhen. Not even before the sackings. 

So what were two doing with a human up here? 

Lambert shuffled the broth into his mouth, ignoring the happy tingles of his body in eating something warm and filling for once, and then shoved the medallion back into his pocket, careful to keep it close to his body, lest any pickpocket nabbed it.

This close to home, that was usually the least of his worries.

As the sun rose the next day, Lambert set out to Kaer Morhen, and to see where these wayward Cats had gotten to.

Line Break

Schrödinger could smell the snow before it started. It didn’t take long for it to overtake them. 

The cold wind was bitter, cutting straight through their thin garments, but the snow that accumulated on their shoulders wasn’t helping. He could also feel how Julian shivered against his side as the winter winds nipped at the back of their necks. 

He glared at the sky, daring it to worsen. “We should head down!” Schrödinger yelled over the wind, despite his companions near him.

Aiden’s teeth were clenched as he shook his head, “The Keep can’t be that far!”

“We keep going,” Julian said, teeth chattering like a flock of daws, “Turning back in this wind would be worse.”

Schrödinger couldn’t deny that. But the free terrain they were on was a lot more open than the rock sided path they traversed the day before. Schrödinger grabbed hold of the Bard to keep him close, and growled deep from his chest as he trudged forwards. 

They walked for hours. Their pace was slow enough that their bodies warmed quickly, but fast enough that they would tire quickly. They stopped often enough that even though the storm had mostly settled, the wind never relented in its biting attacks. 

Finally, the cliffs loomed overhead again, and an outcropping in it made its shape known. It was as if Kaer Morhen, for that was all it could be, was carved into the very rock itself. 

“A bit more to go, Bard.” Aiden grunted, his pace quickening.

Schrödinger kept a hand on Julian’s shirt as they trudged through the deepened snow. None of their shoes were actually prepared for this depth, nor were their cloaks warm enough. But hopefully the Master of the Keep would be willing to house, at least, the Bard.

If needed, Schrödinger and Aiden could find their way down again, if this bloody wind let up, but he hoped not to have that need. The mountain was bloody awful. 

As soon as they returned Julian to his family Schrödinger was ready to vow to go no further North than Aedirn ever again. 

Nearing the Keep, he noticed the large gates closed up, likely due to the fact that none of the surviving wolves should be heading home yet.

Schrödinger glared at the old wood and turned to Aiden, “Want to try climbing, Kitten? Haven’t done that by yourself yet.” It was supposed to sound like a tease, but mostly Schrödinger sounded tired.

“You just don’t want to let go of the pretty bard.” Aiden muttered, dropping his pack beside them and attempting to scale the wall.

Schrödinger watched his brother climb for a moment before hissing when the noble Bard dug his nails into Schrödinger’s side, “I need you to promise me something.” Julian said, his entire body shaking minutely.

“Hm?” Schrödinger strained his ears to try listening for Aiden on the other side while the Bard spoke.

“Promise me that if I die, Valdo Marx can’t play at my funeral.” He gritted. 

Now, Schrödinger did have fingers in the world of politics and nobility, what cat didn’t? But, he’d certainly had not heard of the other man. 

“Who?” 

“You’re now my favourite Witcher.” Julian muttered, his hands pulling back and getting shoved beneath his armpits. “Fucking ‘Bratek’. I’ll shove it up his ass next time I see him.” Jaskier glared at the wood. 

Schrödinger nodded solemnly, not quite sure what was being referenced, “Right. And if you're not a Pansy, what would you prefer?” 

Julian pouted, “Buttercup, eh, Jaskier. Though, if I’m down past Toussaint I go by Dandelion.” He shuddered again, “Yellow is pretty.” 

Schrödinger nodded slowly. He didn’t prefer yellow, but perhaps that was more due to the mutagens, yellow that could haunt dreams. 

There was a loud creaking sound as the doors ahead moved, and Julian slumped slightly into Schrödinger.

Schrödinger grunted and lifted up Julian and carried him forward through the doors as Aiden slipped back out to grab his bag.

“He alright?” Aiden asked, passing by.

Schrödinger shot him a flat look as he pushed forward. The courtyard was only minimally better than the mountain side with the walls acting as barriers, even with a few gaping holes it seemed.

The doors to the actual Keep opened as they approached, Aiden lagging behind a few steps having also closed the large doors.

“We ask for sanctuary in the storm.” Schrödinger ground out as he clutched Julian into him as Julian tried to step down to introduce himself. 

The old Witcher stared at the three of them and swore in an older dialect before pushing the door open further behind him.

Schrödinger took that as acceptable and pushed forwards with Julian, going for the fireside.

Line Break

Jaskier woke up warmer than usual. Especially at what he’d call the very bare beginning of Winter. The only thing really keeping him warm was Aiden’s and Schrödinger’s body pressed tightly to his own.

Though, that might have been because of the fur blanket draped across both of them. He sighed content, and closed his eyes as he nestled closer against Schrödinger. He may, or may not, enjoy the feeling of the two Cats wrapped around him. 

There was a rumble nearby, “Awake, lad?”

Jaskier was loath to pull away from the heat under the fur that had been deposited atop him, but shuffled to sit up. He took in his surroundings slowly, the large hall, the bare stone walls (which explained the chill that the Witchers probably barely felt), and the sole Wolf sitting nearby. 

Jaskier swallowed roughly, “You must be Vesemir, the Master of the Keep.” 

Vesemir regarded him for a moment with dark eyes that held so many thoughts and emotions that Julian was certain he couldn't possibly understand all of them. “That I am, Child of Lettenhove. And who are you?”

“Oh well,” Jaskier said, looking at his bag with a frown. It wasn’t often someone could identify the markings his family had been using for decades. It was a small thing after all. “I’m, eh,” Jaskier raised a hand to rub his head awkwardly, “Potentially your landlord? Not that I’m enforcing it. Kinda?” Jaskier glared at his bags and grumbled to himself, pulling himself from the blanket and over to the two bags, rummaging around before pulling out the papers. “My Father was given this land in a trade, he’s dead now, and it’s my responsibility. Kaedwen has no use for mountains infested with creatures that would sooner kill the miners, so they tossed it into a treaty with Kerack.” Jaskier said handing Vesemir the treaty. “Witchers are self governing for the most part, but my mother made it clear to find all on the land given to tell them of the shift. Nothing is really expected of you, nor the other Wolves. I mean, I’m certainly not about to try climbing this mountain again to tax you, you know? Any coin you make usually goes back into circulation. Anything you make here is used.” Jaskier looked around the Keep, “Though, I’m sure if you needed it I could find people to help out up here. Trusted people, maybe some Elves or Dwarven folk? Fix this Keep so it’s not threatening to fall down around your ears.”

Vesemir regarded him carefully, “And in return?” 

Jaskier looked from the aged Witcher to the two Cats at the fire, “Keep the Keep running for any who need it. I know, I… I know there is a dark past there, a reason for the schools splitting up… But there’s not enough of you alive anymore to warrant this hostility. Open the Keep to the rest, and if in the coming years they prove to be a bunch of pricks, bar them from then on.” 

Vesemir looked down at the papers, “And how do you intend on making sure that happens?” 

Alright. Jaskier hadn’t thought that far. 

“My family has money, I can portal nearby and make the trip here to check in when needed.” He said, thinking on his feet. He wasn’t… averse to portals, it was just something he didn’t use, mostly due to being able to see more with his own two feet then bouncing from location to location.

Vesemir held his silence for many minutes reading over the treaty, “Pankratz?”

Jaskier looked up and nodded, “Alfred Pankratz, my father. Cousin to King Belohun.” 

Vesemir nodded, “And you?”

“Julian Alfred Pankratz, at your service.” Jaskier did a rough bow, “Though,” He snuck a look to the sleeping Cats, “I am also called Jaskier in the North of the Continent, Dandelion to the south.” 

Vesemir frowned, his eyes flicking to the Cats, “Jaskier.” There was a pause, “You knew my name when you awoke. Did one of the Cats tell you?” 

“Ah,” Jaskier tried to think back, but couldn’t rightly recall if they had, “Geralt, actually. He didn’t say much, never did. Does. But he mentioned you usually were at the Keep.” 

“I only leave for a month or two. Ghouls and Wraiths move in quickly with no one here.” Vesemir said looking around the large hall, “Geralt, is he—“

“Alive, last I heard. We parted before summer in Kovir. Heard a whisper of him passing by Ellander.” Jaskier said softly. 

Vesemir nodded and turned towards Schrödinger, ignoring the glare the cat gave him in return. Jaskier turned and shuffled over to the Cat, placing his hand on the blanket.

“How long until winter storms start in earnest?” Schrödinger asked, it felt like a repeated question for Jaskier’s benefit.

“Not long, within three weeks for all the Wolves to be home.” Vesemir said, eyes on Jaskier, “Usually Eskel gets home first, in the next few days, then Lambert a bit afterwards. Geralt usually comes later, half the time barely making it up here before the path seals,” He paused looking over Jaskier, “He’ll be earlier this year, more like than not. You're not with him to hold him back.”

Jaskier grimaced and ducked his head.

Schrödinger turned, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Vesemir looked at the Cat and raised an eyebrow, almost challenging. 

Jaskier shrugged, “I probably spend much more time in the autumn holding Geralt back than I should.”

Schrödinger frowned and looked him over, and Jaskier shivered under the stare, “You help, Julian. You have camp ready after a hunt, or baths and food. You are a bit slow in the mornings, but you're only human. You’re more useful than this lump some days.” He jutted his chin towards Aiden, who was still curled under the blanket.

Jaskier grimaced, “I get in the way, I ask a lot of questions and I never shut up. I know this, don’t get me wrong, I’m a lot to handle.”

Schrödinger frowned further, “Witcher’s got two hands. One for your shirt, one for his sword.”

Jaskier looked him over carefully, as Schrödinger was taking the fact that Jaskier had traveled with a Witcher, Geralt specifically, before rather well. “Did you know? Who I was, I mean.” 

It certainly wasn’t a well known fact that Jaskier the Bard and the Viscount Julian were the same. Rather, it was barely connected at all these days, only the school and his family really knew. Sure, when he taught for a few years, they called him Professor Pankratz, but half the kids forwent the formalities and called him Jaskier.

“You get defensive about Witchers, sing our songs, and know too much about our traditions and our potions to have read it somewhere. Didn’t know you were ‘Jaskier’ until yesterday when you were bitching about your funeral.”

Jaskier blinked a few times, “When I did what?”

Schrödinger smirked, rearranging the furs as he stood to keep Aiden covered, moving over and draping himself over Jaskier’s shoulder, his chin pushing into the collarbone, “You were demanding that I not let some Bard play at your funeral. Baldo? Hard to hear over the winds.”

Jaskier scrunched up his nose in disgust, the Cat on his shoulder laughing softly at something, “Valdo Marx, an atrocious man with the ability to sing to sleep the most rowdy of men. Absolutely abhorrent, a copier of the craft, a, a…” Jaskier narrowed his eyes for a moment, “A crooked-nosed cox-comb, completely unsuited for our profession.” Jaskier finished with a huff. 

Schrödinger snorted against his neck, Jaskier feeling it as the air against his throat, “You’re funny when you get angry little bird.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, “I’m going to ignore that.”

Vesemir glanced between them and Aiden, before turning back to Schrödinger, “Are you lads planning on staying the Winter? The pass will be too dangerous to go down soon, not when you don’t know the land. A few days to rest, if that.” 

Jaskier watched as Schrödinger looked to Aiden softly, “You’d let us stay?” 

Jaskier felt a slight unease at being in Geralt’s home for the winter, potentially, probably also with Geralt, but it seemed large enough to be able to avoid him, especially with his two Cats helping. He noticed Schrödinger watching him and gave him a small nod, “Trying to get out of Kaedwen in this weather will be overwhelmingly impossible. If we are given the space, I’d be honoured to stay.”

Vesemir nodded, “You’d be working, Bard, no idle hands in this Keep. Winter is a hard month, cold and drafty sometimes. Can you handle that?”

Jaskier rolled his eyes, “Not my first time in a drafty castle in winter.”

Line Break

 Lambert tried his best to follow the tracks Katarzyna pointed out in the woods. Three sets heading up the mountain wasn’t exactly hard to follow, but the way they darted all over made him definitely think they had a few screws loose, or something, because there was no reason for the zigzag path. When the snow started falling, covering the ground in light dustings, and dumpings not far off, it got harder. 

Either, the Cats would find their way off the cliff side to their demise, leave the mountain, or make it to the keep. Knowing the Cats, Lambert rationed it was the second. 

Aiden had always hated the cold weather, it made parting always worse. Vesemir never would have wanted the Cat in the Keep, sure, but Lambert liked to dream of inviting him home. And dream of Wintering in the south with Aiden instead.

That’s all they were now. Dreams. ‘What ifs’ long past. His whole world was shifting into a grey area now, both literally and metaphorically. 

The snow started coming down heavier and thicker, covering his shoulders at a constant rate. His boots would break the crust of the snow that formed with each forward step, it would soak through his pants eventually. The temperature was dropping rapidly as the sun began to set.

Lambert ducked into one of a few hollowed caverns in the path’s side to wait out the night, hoping the storm wouldn’t barricade him in as he lit a small fire with the limited supply in the cave, from whoever had been here last winter most like. The path home would take two or three days in this snow, but it wasn’t the worst it could be. 

After a fitful sleep, Lambert set out again at dawn.

His feet sank deep into the thick snow as he walked, the snow crunched beneath them, the sound deafening in the silence. His breath hung in white clouds as the wind blew them in front of him, fogging and obscuring his view of anything else in the darkening sky ahead.

His light pack kept the worst of the snow from his back as he trekked the passage up, internally cursing all the beasties he’d slain for not getting a lucky shot in so he wouldn’t have to do this again.

By this point, that was practically tradition. The self deprecation, that is. Not the haze from the mountain. Though, that wasn’t wholly uncommon. 

Lambert’s trip until seeing the Keep made his feet feel like lead. By the time he was at the gates, all he wanted to do was find his bed and sleep until the next night. 

Lambert shook off thoughts of sleep, knowing the biggest obstacle yet stood in his way, the disappointed look of Vesemir due to showing up first this year.

He grumbled to himself, slipping around the gates to a small hole at the side. It was one of the few spots they didn’t fix due to the absolute sheer cliff side not five meters off to the side, and only Lambert actually used it anyway, no one else would go that close to the edge of that death-fall.

Lambert slipped through the hole and frowned at the empty courtyard, it was surreal to be home without Eskel, usually there’d be the sounds of the goats and horses already, but the winds likely silenced them anyway if they had been there.

He groaned as he made the last stretch to the warmed halls (in comparison to the courtyard), and pushed open the doors.

Despite what he expected, it was much louder and foreign smells that assaulted his nose had him reeling back shaking his head.

The hall itself was empty but there were four distinct smells.

First, there was the familiar smell of leather and spices, which was almost sickening in familiarity of the Keep, something that was a dominant scent of the Keep.

The second scent was that of a soft lavender and almonds mixed together, which reminded him of court, albeit much softer. 

The third, like the woods and the steel, a vague familiarity with a trip to the Caravan over the years, though he couldn’t point to an exact person, there were a bunch of names jumping in but nothing set.

And finally, the last smell, and Lambert was almost scared by how familiar and pleasant it was, was that of warm honey wine and the lingering bit of citrus, Aiden’s favourite.

There was a pain in Lambert's chest as he frowned trying to find where the scents were coming from.

He followed the scents around the Keep, ending in the library, Lambert paused at the door, listening in. 

In the library, Lambert could hear Vesemir humming along to the plucking of an instrument, then there were also a few mutters and laughs. Lambert stayed at the door and frowned, unsure if he should even enter. 

There was a loud laugh in the library as the music cut off. 

Lambert's heart was caught in his throat as he heard steps coming closer and then the door was pulled open, and the man, human man, paused right before running into Lambert.

“Oh, hello!” The man said, “You don’t look like Geralt so I’ll assume Lambert then… Please step aside, I’m storming off angrily because these assholes insulted me.” 

Now, that is possibly the nicest thing some random guy had said to Lambert. “Er?”

“Hm, I expected more swears.” The man shrugged, patting his arm.

Lambert just stood there unsure of how to respond. 

“Vesemir, I might have broken your pup.” The man said over his shoulder.

There was a scramble in the room, and Lambert heard the strangest sound as he pushed past the Bard and grabbed onto Aiden. 

“Woah, woah, careful.” Aiden muttered, grabbing hold of Lambert as well, “It’s okay kitty, I…”

Lambert slowly realised the painful sound was from his chest, “Aiden.”

Line Break

Jaskier found that Lambert was absolutely wonderful when he wasn’t trying to recover from both a mountain climb and a dead friend not being, you know, dead.

It was great to see Aiden with his Medallion, both it seemed for Lambert, who would occasionally reach out to fiddle with it, and for Aiden who kept reaching for it to thumb the metal when doing deep breaths. 

With three days between them, they had gotten almost familiar with each other, enough that Jaskier could play his lute after meals without being glared at or receiving offhand comments from Lambert.

Sure, Jaskier was pretty sure that Lambert was still thinking it, or muttering it under his breath so the human ears couldn’t pick it up. Aiden and Schrödinger both were defensive of the music, which did please him unfiltered. 

So in the evening, as Lambert and Aiden were seemingly wrapped around each other, and Schrödinger still in the room but out of arms reach in the bloody rafters, Jaskier had taken the nonexistent stage to add some ambiance, a soft strum and a softer voice. 

The sound of hooves and loud swears from the courtyard, however, brought them all to a halt.

Lambert tightened a grip on Aiden as he stared at the doors, while Jaskier’s strumming fell silent. 

Schrödinger had made himself scarce after Lambert showed up, appearing for food and vanishing again. Jaskier tried to follow once, but when Schrödinger started climbing straight up a wall, Jaskier had to stay put. Today though, Jaskier looked up to see him sitting up, glaring to the doors like the others. At least, whatever was out there, would encounter both possible Cats if it was one of the residents. If not, it would face three Witchers and a Bard armed with a lute.

Lambert stared at the doors and glared, “Eskel, probably. Damn goat probably got into something already.” 

Jaskier blinked and leaned over, “Goat?” 

Lambert shrugged and nodded to the door, “Soft hearted fuck with a penchant for animals. You’d like him, Bard.”

Jaskier nodded and returned to his strumming, Lambert seemed to relax a little after that. Though Aiden sat stiffly on the bench with his hands clenched into fists in his lap, his gaze remained on the doors.

The door was pushed open with force and a ‘bah’ came from the arms of the large figure entering the Keep. Not a moment later, the kid squirmed from the arms onto the floor and bounced around towards the warmth of the fire.

Jaskier had to blink a few times as his brain caught up to his eyes, seeing what could stand for Geralt’s twin running a hand through his dark hair. 

The differences were stark the more he looked, like the worn armour was coloured, not just black. The scars on his face were also prominent, but didn’t really take away from his other striking features, though Jaskier may be biased on that, following Geralt around certainly changed his opinions on scars. There was also a small shiny metal stuck to the strap of his bag, but it was so far away Jaskier could barely make it out.

He looked over to them and scowled, “You invited guests, Lamb?” He said gruffly, walking in and dripping his bag near where Lambert sat.

Lambert laughed and stood up, pulling the man into a hug, “Good to see you, Eskel. And I didn’t invite them, these wild Cats were here when I showed up.”

Eskel’s shoulders tensed as he looked over Aiden, and looked up to the rafters, “And Vesemir…”

As if summoned by his name, the old Witcher appeared, “They stay. Good to see you lad.”

Eskel looked confused but nodded, “Good to be home.”

Jaskier looked at the three wolves and rolled his eyes, “Brilliant. That’s Aiden. He and Lambert are friends, there’s lots of touching.” He nodded at Aiden whose shoulders were still very much tense, “And that’s Schrödinger up there. Not much to add to that. I’m… well I don’t think I was promoted? Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove.”

Eskel raised a brow at him and chuckled lightly, “Pankratz of... Lettenhove? You’re a long way from home, lad.”

Jaskier scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, “Yes, well, I travel a lot. I’m a Bard,” He pointed to his lute, “I can do whatever I want, whenever I want, to be wherever I want, and I am going to do so now and forever more.” He huffed.

“Hm.” Eskel nodded with an almost smirk, “There was a small monster problem in Lettenhove a while back when I passed by. I spoke with one of the noble ladies of the area, you probably know them.”

Jaskier stared at Eskel for a long moment. None of his sisters had mentioned any monsters, and they were usually good at that due to his likelihood of writing something about it. As the Witchers devolved into smaller conversations about the year, Jaskier tried to think back. Helena had mentioned a Witcher, but surely that was a Cat. Maybe a Viper due to it being a higher profile human. Not a Wolf. 

“What was your payment,” Jaskier asked, causing the conversation between the two brothers to fall. 

“What?” Lambert asked, his face scrunching up.

“Eskel, in Lettenhove. What was your payment?”

Eskel looked confused, “A jeweled brooch. More than I expected, haven’t taken it to a fence to get coin for it yet.”

Jaskier’s eyes flicked down to the bag on the floor, “Peacock?”

“The fuck?” Lambert asked quietly.

Eskel on the other hand frowned and grabbed his bag, passing it over, “How’d you know?” 

Jaskier poked at the brooch, “My sister ‘misplaced’ our mother’s brooch as payment.” He looked across the table, “She’s quite pleased you took care of the monster problem they faced.” 

Eskel’s cheeks darkened slightly, “It’s just part of the job. Nothing to it.” 

Jaskier grinned, looking Eskel up and down. “Indeed.” 

It would prove to be quite the interesting winter with this as the case. 

Line break

Schrödinger was trying to keep out of the way, not wanting to step on any metaphorical wolf tails. Lambert he could deal with, he’s at least met Aiden’s wolf before.

Eskel was a whole other basket. 

It didn’t take three days before Schrödinger put a blade to his throat, albeit it was Eskel’s fault. 

It was normal for Schrödinger to find small spaces to hide, he didn’t care much for company and no offense to the Bardling, but a few months with him and his music was wearing on sensitive ears. It wasn’t that Julian, Jaskier, whatever the Bard wanted to be called, was bad at his trade, it was just that the music hurt his ears in general. It was great, but it was overstimulating. 

With the Caravan, he’d hide up in tall trees anytime they got together, or shy around the edges of camp most times. So he decided not to change habit and do the same here. 

He’d found a nice hiding hole near the third floor, if one scaled the wall correctly. He didn’t think Aiden or the two wolves he’d met would try following him up. Vesemir was much too level headed and Lambert couldn’t care less what Schrödinger was up to.

Jaskier tried following once or twice, but his inability to climb a mostly smooth wall was a deterrent.

Eskel on the other hand, didn’t find it as such. 

So when Schrödinger was minding his own business and hiding away from the world, and there’s movement at the edge, he grabbed his blade and moved to whatever was making its way to him, pulling his knife on Eskel.

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Schrödinger cursed and slipped the blade back into its sheath at his hip, “Watch where you're going, Wolf.”

“Eskel,” Eskel said dryly, “And it’s certainly not the first time someone’s pulled a knife on me here.” 

Schrödinger shrugged, scooting back as the other, much larger, Witcher scooted into the space, “What are you doing?”

“We haven’t officially met yet.” Was apparently the excuse the Wolf was giving.

Schrödinger knew there was bad blood between the schools, but he hadn’t thought it would result in being… babysat considering the old wolf mostly shrugged it off. 

“Great. We have now. Go away.” Schrödinger was pointedly looking everywhere but at Eskel. 

“But, I don’t know you.” Eskel said as a matter factly

“Exactly. No reason we need to get acquainted.” Schrödinger said, elbowing Eskel’s surprisingly hard shoulder towards the drop. 

Eskel stared at him for a long moment, “I’m brothers to an ass and an usually silent fool. Whatever you're doing isn’t going to work, kitten.” The nickname was definitely mocking, but the smile that graced Eskel’s lips as he turned around was genuine enough.

“Don’t call me that,” Schrödinger growled softly, turning slightly. The only ones who’ve done so were his brothers, and he barely tolerated them doing it. Jaskier, or whatever, not counting cause there was nothing to sway the man away from a name he decided on for someone else apparently. 

Eskel held his hands up in deference, “We all have a past, no worries. If not ‘kitten’, what do I call you?” 

“Name’s Schrödinger.” He ground out, glaring at the stone wall.

Eskel snorted, “No need to sound so mad. Can you really blame me for wanting to know who exactly is going to be around for a while?” 

“I’m not family.” Schrödinger replied shortly, moving slightly further back, as if it wasn’t obvious enough. Aiden might get adopted into the Wolf pack because of Lambert, but he was here to protect the Bard and return him to his noble family. Nothing else.

Eskel just shrugged, “Sure, but you're stuck with us for a while, can’t hurt to make friends, Schrö. No wait, that sounds awful. Dinger?” Eskel hummed a deep note of contemplation.

“The fuck are you doing?” Schrödinger asked with a glare.

“Your name is un-nickable, did you know?”

“I do, yes!” Schrödinger snapped, annoyed at the incessant talking. 

“Really?” It was a teasing tone that was grating on his nerves.

“Fuck you.”

“Okay, I guess, but I usually prefer to know the other person more.” Eskel said with a shrug.

“Then learn some fucking tact, Wolf.” Schrödinger hissed, pushing himself against the wall harder, as if hoping it would open up and swallow him whole. His head was starting to swim a bit, adrenaline started coursing through him as he blushed. 

There was a reason Cat Witchers didn’t work well in packs or in cities for long, the emotions got to strung up and could lash out. And Schrödinger had a lot pent up with trying to hold it in over the last few months. 

Eskel laughed lightly, “I got it, ‘Roe’, not the best maybe, but the only other thing I have is ‘Scort’, and I don’t want to get stabbed.” 

Schrödinger was silent for a long second, “Acceptable, which is unfortunate. I was looking forward to stabbing you.”

Eskel snorted, which had Schrödinger raise his shoulders higher. He certainly wasn’t the best at talking to strangers. Getting contracts was usually the most he had to do. 

Schrödinger huffed, and shuffled again, as if just waiting for Eskel to leave. 

Eskel, however, didn’t seem keen on doing that. Instead, he leaned back against the wall, arms behind his head, “Well, how about you tell me a little about yourself. Or I could”

Schrödinger stiffened slightly and glared at the other Witcher, “Not going to happen. Get the hell out of my face.”

Eskel raised an eyebrow, and tilted his head curiously, but moved back anyway, “Fair enough.”

He didn’t look disappointed by the response, but the slight frown stayed firmly etched on his face, a bit more prominent with the scars marring his face being pulled.

Schrödinger sighed, “I’m not… good with people. And I prefer the quiet.” 

Eskel shrugged, “Yeah, alright. I understand that. But what about animals? I find that animals are usually better to talk to than people.”

Schrödinger rolled his eyes, “I don’t do animals well.”

Eskel just shrugged again letting the silent surround them, but the conversation died after that. He watched the other for a while, noticing the tension radiating off of him as he slowly relaxed against the wall. He wondered how old the other was - maybe older than himself by a year. Maybe five years, it was difficult to say. 

It was getting late when Aiden crawled up the wall with lunch that was shoved into a makeshift carrier from loose fabric, carried in his mouth.

“You didn’t come to lunch.” Aiden said, scooting around Eskel’s legs to pass over the bag. 

Schrödinger raised an eyebrow incredulously, “I can take care of myself, Kit.” 

Aiden grinned, “Yeah, you can. But Jaskier wanted me to bring it to you and I’m not going to disobey our Bard.”

Schrödinger glared, “Hmm, tell Julian I can take care of myself. Bloody child.” 

Aiden rolled his eyes fondly, “Any human is a child compared to you, did you eat Eskel?”

Eskel shrugged halfheartedly as he looked over at Schrödinger, “Earlier.”

“Yes, yes, I’m antisocial and don’t like going into the big hall, go find your wolf.” Schrödinger pushed Aiden’s shoulder slightly before the younger Witcher scurried back down the wall, there was quiet conversation down the hall, from Jaskier, if Schrödinger could hear well.

Schrödinger leaned his head back as he ate his bread and cheese. There was something almost comforting to sitting there with silent company, to see Eskel seemingly relax, even though they both knew it couldn’t last.

“You know, we usually get another one or two visitors in winter. Geralt usually waits until the last moment, but our doors are open to most Witchers.”

“Barring Cats usually.” Schrödinger muttered, biting into the dried meat.

“Mmh, with acceptable reasoning, I wasn’t there for the tournament… Vesemir and Geralt were. Geralt in the fight.” Eskel said softly, like speaking to a spooked child. 

“Treyse was a bastard and a fool, but got what he deserved. He fell with many of my brothers that day.” Schrödinger said just as softly. He hadn’t been at the tournament, very much against the ‘friendly’ competition that they set up, and much too busy with actual work in the south. “Caravan’s been better with Guxart. Not perfect, mind, but most of the bastards died with Treyse.”

“But not all?” Eskel asked carefully. 

Schrödinger just snorted, “You’ve seen Aiden, yeah? Used to have two pretty green eyes until our brother and his gang decided to take him out. Aiden hasn’t said why, but he’s only alive because I was near enough to hear the scuffle. No idea what happened to Jad after.”

“Fuck.” Eskel said softly, shaking his head, “Your own kin? Bastard. At least this was…” Eskel fell silent as he gestured vaguely at his head, “A type of kin I guess.”

“Eh?” 

“Child surprise, left her with her family, destiny gave me this in return.” He shrugged, his lips pressed into a tight line.

“Fuck destiny.” Schrödinger muttered. “Only good it’s done me is the Bard so far. Towns like him, get better pay.” 

Eskel tilted his head slightly, “Geralt never said as much, but we could tell something changed when he and the bard traveled together… How’d he come to be with you?”

Schrödinger shrugged again, “Ask him yourself if you want a story.”

Eskel looked him over for a long moment, “Maybe another time, I’m comfortable here.”

Line Break

Jaskier was fighting the urge to internally pace as the days passed without Geralt’s arrival.

He should be pleased, he should have been glad he wasn’t facing him so suddenly and out of the blue. Except, when he’s prepared to meet him, out of the blue, Geralt hasn’t shown up yet. 

Hence the not-pacing thing. He was running a hand through his hair roughly, messing it up even more than usual in frustration.

He hated the way his chest tightened when thinking of Geralt’s absence and how it reminded him of a much warmer mountain, and the not so cold nights on the Path spent wrapped in Geralt’s cloak and warmth. 

Jaskier still tried to shake off the memory of Geralt’s warm hands holding him close, of feeling so safe curled up next to him. It made Jaskier feel so incredibly stupid.

It wasn’t something he was expecting this winter, that’s for sure. He’d stick with his lackluster fire and the musty blankets then try to find a bedmate amongst the Witchers again. The only real option was Aiden. And though Aiden was great, the noises coming from his and Lambert's area were enough to deter him. 

Jaskier might be known for sleeping with husbands and wives, but only when it was an unhappy marriage and where he was very much welcome.

Jaskier didn’t think Lambert would welcome him that much if the snide comments were anything to go by. Sure, they were sweetened often by teasing nudges and felt more like an older brother pushing him around, but it was off-putting to then go to his bedroom, you know?

So yeah, he could deal with a cold winter. Most days he was busy fixing things or cooking; he barely had time to notice the gaping hole his mind constructed for Geralt, and Jaskier certainly didn’t do that on purpose.

But, living practically out of each other's pocket for a few long years certainly made things stick with you. 

Jaskier found himself leaving Kovir with making sure he stocked up on unneeded herbs for potions he couldn’t even ingest, and while that proved strangely useful for his joining with Aiden and Schrödinger, it was difficult to play it off as happenstance that he ‘just so happened’ to have expensive herbs Witchers commonly used in his bag, while most humans strayed away from the plant unless they dabbled in Chaos. 

Jaskier mentally paced as he flipped through one of the old diaries in the library, he was nestled in a corner knowing full well that most Witchers would know he’s there while only reading with half his mind about a better time when Witchers were revered and thanked, rather than run out of towns. 

The other half, however, caused him to groan loudly.

“What’s towards, Bard?” Vesemir asked from the fireside, loud enough for his voice to carry.

Jaskier flushed bright, not having realized anyone else was in the room, which was a problem with Vesemir, the old man was always quiet. “Nothing, sir.” 

“And nothing has you groaning like that?” Vesemir asked.

Which… true. Jaskier grimaced and unfolded himself to go to the fire, which would be nice, warming up his mildly cold skin from where he sat against the wall. “It’s nothing, truly,” Jaskier commented as he sat near the fire, breathing in its warmth, “Just… wondering about your wayward pup.” He said, running his hands over his arms, a mockery of what Geralt’s hands could have felt. No, his were usually much hotter and more firm. Not that Jaskier’s were delicate, just, the hands of a musician and a warrior were very different. 

“I saw smoke from the pass, he’ll be home tonight or tomorrow.” Vesemir muttered as he knit. 

Vesemir knit a lot, which wasn’t something Jaskier had ever thought of a Witcher doing, but considering how old he was, Vesemir certainly earned himself a calming hobby that helped keep the space warm. 

“Great. Yeah, uh, great.” Jaskier said with a frown, “You know him well, how angry is he going to be with us being here?” 

Vesemir regarded Jaskier carefully, “The Cats will handle themselves. Geralt might get… apprehensive with them, but I’m sure Lambert can diffuse that.”

“You have a lot of trust in Lambert's ability to diffuse anything.” Jaskier muttered incredulously.

Vesemir snorted, “He’s a firecracker, but when it’s important, he’s there. Plus he has a stock in it if he wants his Cat to come up for next Winter.”

Jaskier nodded, taking note of how Vesemir very much didn’t comment on him. 

“He’ll be shocked to see you, I think. I’ve raised him since he was dropped here as a babe. He’s… Hmm.” Vesemir paused to think, “He’s lost so much in his life he tries not to care about anything at all. When he finds himself caring, he pushes it away. Look around you, Bard. Growing up these halls were filled with boys his age.” There was a beat of silence, echoing how starkly that had changed, “I told the boys not to get attached because the emotional whiplash it will bring when the attached gets hurt or leaves could ruin them.”

Jaskier swallowed roughly, “Explains his ‘Roach’ thing then. I’ll try to keep out of his way if you think it best.” Jaskier dropped his head. 

After this winter he’d travel to Lettenhove with Schrödinger, maybe Aiden if Lambert lets him out of his sights, and maybe he’ll just… stick around for a while. Or go with Adrian on a bit of a traditional Keracki voyage. Something to get his mind out of all… this.

“I think that’s a shit idea. Not just because you’re traveling and it’s safer, but you make the path good for my boys. I’ve seen Geralt at many points of low, and the years before you showed up in Posada, I wasn’t sure which Winter his medallion would arrive without him.” Vesemir looked over Jaskier’s form, “After? He was coming home with more meat on his bones, a less haunted look in his eye. All of them did after a while.”

Jaskier silently thought it over, letting his mind play out different scenarios. From what he knew of Geralt, it made sense honestly. It had taken literal years to break down the hardened barriers of mistrust and it may have been hard, but Jaskier pushed through, refusing to stop caring, even when Geralt had tried to leave him in the beginning.

There must have been a reason Geralt stayed with him after, and kept his friendship in place for so long.

He really wished they’d had a more vocal relationship, the ability to communicate heavily relied on Jaskier’s knowledge of Geralt’s mannerisms which were makeshift and not always the best.

Needless to say, Jaskier spent most of that night (until Vesemir sent him to bed) reanalysing all the things that happened when he and Geralt last parted.

The next morning, Jaskier woke early with the sun, his very bones felt heavy with anticipation as he got ready in what he’d call a toned down outfit. If Geralt were here already, he’d probably have picked up on Jaskier being here just walking through the door. He had liked to complain about the perfume the Bard used, though he heard no complaints from the other sensitive noses of the keep. 

If Geralt had camped out and was still making his way up, Jaskier wanted to be awake to see him get in, and to gauge his reaction. Jaskier wouldn’t survive going down the mountain but he knew how to make himself scarce. Living in a nobleman’s house did that to you as a kid.

He bounced down to the hall and looked much to awake for the rest of the Keep.

“What's got you awake like… that?” Aiden asked, tilting his head.

Jaskier just sat down and grinned, “Eh, did Schrödinger eat yet?” He said turning the conversation back to Aiden quickly.

“Earlier, left when we showed up.” He laughed slightly and shook his head, “Normal for winter, promise.” 

Jaskier nodded once in agreement before he got comfortable leaning his chin in his hand as he watched the others eat. He scooped a few dried currants onto the oatmeal he grabbed and ate mindlessly and kept eyeing the door, waiting for sounds in the courtyard. He was one of the few who didn’t have much work outside, mostly he was fixing inside walls and patching small holes or canvas windows, leaving heavy wall building to the stronger of the crew. Jaskier had absolutely no idea what Schrödinger was doing as work, but surely it was something, considering Vesemir didn’t complain.

Within minutes of shoving oatmeal in his mouth, there’s the sound of old wood creaking from outside and Lambert’s head shoots up, “Seems like Pretty boy made it this year after all.” 

Promptly, Jaskier choked on his oatmeal, and after a second of recovery, “Pretty boy?” he sputtered between laughs and coughs, wiping tears away as he struggled to breathe again.

Lambert just shrugged, “Well, he’s a pretty boy. Got shocking hair, and a pretty face so far, too. Makes a guy wonder why everyone thinks he’s such... uh…” Lambert paused after being elbowed sharply by Aiden

“Long story, Bard.” Eskel summed up, “Mostly it’s just teasing.” 

Jaskier could understand that. 

Eskel grumbled under his breath, or at least that’s what it sounded like to Jaskier and stood up, “I’ll help settle Roach so he can get warmed up.”

Jaskier’s fingers felt tingly in a way they only did on the rare stage-fright occasion, when the nerves kicked in and every part went numb.

Geralt entered the hall just a few moments after Eskel left, his brow furrowed, looking like he’d just walked through snowdrifts instead of the icy cold winds of the north, giving also quite the mountain man aspect of his character, what, given the large furred cloak, scrappy beard, and snow-reddened cheeks. His eyes landed on Jaskier first, narrowing before they moved forwards towards him, stopping as he stopped short, just a bit off to the side, and stared.

His expression was neutral. Hard to read, Jaskier thought, but then Geralt tilted his head and blinked slowly, the barest hint of a frown playing along his lips.

Fuck. Fucking fuck. 

Abort. Retreat. Not a good thing at all.

“What are you doing here?” Geralt growled.

Lambert, down the table, coughed, or possibly wheezed. Jaskier wasn’t paying attention. 

“I have a very good, reasonable explanation for this… Somewhere. I just need to remember it.” Jaskier frowned, his brain unfocused on everything except Geralt.

Geralt just stared at him, unblinking, “I thought I’d never see you again.” 

“Yes, sorry about that. This is probably really inconveniencing I am now realising. I should… go that direction and let you eat, right? Yes, definitely. I’ll just—“ As Jaskier stood to make a hasty retreat Geralt’s hand snapped over the table to grab him. Jaskier was frozen, Geralt’s thumb rubbing circles in the palm of his hand. 

Fuck. 

Jaskier pressed his eyes closed for a brief moment, steeling himself to not let himself fall again.

A small whimper, unbidden, escaped him as his heart started to pick up speed, it was all he could do not to flinch as Geralt looked to the table alongside Jaskier, to Lambert and his definitely-not-partner-I’ll-stab-you-if-you-call-him-that-bard, and Vesemir, then back to Jaskier.

“Stay.”

Jaskier gave a rough nod, “Yeah, I can do that too.” He sat back down, his knees jarring as his ass hit the bench. Geralt didn’t let go.

For several tense moments the two just sat staring, the air thick with the tension.

And then finally, Geralt smiled, small and gentle, “You look well, Jaskier.”

Shit shit shit shit. 

He shouldn’t have done it, shouldn’t have told himself to not fall. Curse his heart for caring and falling just from that simple line. Yep, nope, he shouldn’t be here, he should have dropped off the papers to Vesemir and went straight back down the mountain with Schrödinger, maybe leaving Aiden behind to find Lambert, but whatever, he shouldn’t be in this situation.

Jaskier noted he’d been silently staring for a small bit too long, “Thanks.”

Geralt’s lips turned up slightly as he turned away, his gaze flickering towards where the others seemed to be trying not to pay attention, especially Vesemir who was gathering up his utensils to leave.

Geralt’s face remained blank, “You’re new.” 

Lambert’s shoulders straightened as he puffed up his chest, “He’s welcome to be here.” 

Aiden however, rolled his eyes, “I’m Aiden.” 

Geralt blinked, “The one who’s dead?”

Lambert growled, deeply.

“Would have been, if my brother hadn’t found me soon after I was injured.” Aiden said, placing his arm onto Lambert’s arm. 

Geralt frowned, “Hmm. Lambert got revenge for you, got your medallion back too.”

Vesemir raised his brow, apparently not having expected such a calm acceptance from Geralt. 

“Yeah, he’s said when he got here.” Aiden said carefully, looking to the door, “My brother is here too, the one who kept me alive.”

Geralt just nodded, as he sat there. Jaskier breathed deeply, trying not to start hyperventilating in the silence, knowing well that the Witchers could probably hear his heart race. A short while later, Vesemir tossed some dried fruits at Geralt in a bowl, placing a warm hand on his shoulder, with a soft ‘rest up, Wolf’, before disappearing upstairs. 

Lambert huffed slightly as he pushed Aiden up and also, more or less, abandoned Jaskier.

Jaskier tried to smile at Geralt, knowing it looked forced, “Good year?” 

Geralt didn’t look injured, but Jaskier knew that meant shit when regarding Geralt. 

Geralt hummed, shoving a few fruits in his mouth as if putting off the question. Jaskier sighed heavily, “Sorry if that’s awkward,” He muttered as he grabbed a fruit for himself from Geralt’s bowl, “I don’t know what else to say.”

He swallowed nervously, wondering how things would play out. Jaskier didn’t want to think about how the next few winter months would unfold. 

How would his relationship with Geralt work? Would they be able to stay friends, or would their feelings get hurt again? Or would Geralt realize that Jaskier was more trouble than he was worth, like it seemed to have been all those months ago.

It seemed, initially, that Geralt was happy to see him, but Jaskier wasn’t putting much stock into that. Shock can do plenty to one's emotions, after all.

“Don’t apologize.” Geralt said quietly, “The year was…quiet.”

“That’s good, you probably liked it, no running out of towns because someone sticked their sausage in the wrong pantry, no witch to torment you I imagine, and certainly some peace and quiet on the path, that you love.” 

Geralt hummed, looking straight at Jaskier, “No one to see me after a fight, to clean and dress my wounds. No one to argue with men about fairness and payment. No one to complain about the smallest things, like buying enough apples.” He paused for a moment, “No one to keep a fire at camp, to fall asleep with.”

Jaskier pressed his lips together, “Hm.”

“After the mountain, it was a shit year, Jaskier. Got paid a quarter as well as I normally would, a few injuries left to heal untouched.” 

Yeah, that made sense actually. Geralt would miss him for the unasked for services he provided. “I’ll look them over in a bit if you’ll let me.”

An olive branch of sorts.

Geralt shook his head, “Healed now, it’s fine.”

Well, if Geralt didn’t want him to do it then that’s fine too. If he could be more clear, even better. Jaskier couldn’t help pursing his lips slightly.

Eskel, wonderful Eskel, took that moment to come inside, his cheeks only pink from the air. “Roach is settled and fed, how are you, Wolf?”

Geralt huffed and dropped his head slightly.

Eskel snorted, “That well, huh? Recover today, Master Vesemir will surely put you to work tomorrow.” 

Eskel passed by close and patted his shoulder. Geralt nodded quietly, running his hand over the wooden, empty, bowl. 

“Take care of him Jaskier, I’m going to go bully the other Cat into some socialization.”

Jaskier snorted with a slight smirk, knowing well that Schrödinger was finding Eskel to be a bit much, yet not running away nor stabbing him for it. 

Once Eskel left the room, Geralt softly continued, “I wasn’t planning on coming home this winter.” 

Jaskier’s smirk fell, “What?” His breath stuttered in his lungs briefly. Geralt had been heading home for winter for as long as he had known the man. 

A faint flush spread across Geralt’s cheeks as he glanced down at where their hands still joined, “I wanted to try finding you, but when I passed through Oxenfurt you weren’t there. Didn’t know where else to look.” 

Jaskier grimaced slightly, “If I hadn’t been swept away by Schrödinger and Aiden, Lettenhove. I was summoned home due to my father’s passing. Really, it was fortuitous for us to part when we did. You’d hate having to deal with all that.”

“I’d have gladly joined you, were I in the right frame of mind to do so.” Geralt said quietly, “There were a few weeks where I wouldn’t have been.”

Jaskier’s lips twitched upwards, “What, you’d have been grouchy and not talking outside of your monosyllabic dictionary? I’ve traveled the continent with you, Geralt, I know your moods.” 

Geralt nodded slowly, “Your family would not have liked me in that mood.” 

“Ah yes, spare the noble fools a grouchy Witcher that I’ve been singing my heart out about for years. They didn’t seem to mind Eskel, or, well, my sister didn’t.” 

Geralt frowned, “Hm?”

Jaskier shrugged, “He took care of a small ‘monster’ she was dealing with. Spoke well of him.” He smiled slightly thinking of her embrace when she confessed as to why her betrothed was no longer on this plane. 

Geralt frowned, but his head bobbed up slowly, “Is that why you’re here?”

Jaskier grimaced, “No, not really. In my fathers passing, we learned that Lettenhove had inherited a plot of land in Kaedwen due to a treaty agreement. My mother thinks the only reason the land fell to Lettenhove was because the King, my fathers cousin, knew of my… eh, me, I suppose.”

“I don’t understand.” Geralt muttered.

“Yeah, that’s fair.” Jaskier mumbled, “Vesemir read the paper so he’d be able to explain what it means for you lot but it’s nothing really. Mostly, the plot of land given included these mountains, thus the people down below and the Keep are theoretically and politically connected to Kerack now, rather than Kaedwen. Really, nothing changes considering we’re wealthy and aren’t about to ask you for taxes, you don’t exactly have enough to tax anyway.” Jaskier muttered that last bit under his breath, knowing full well Geralt could hear.

Geralt snorted, “Some years we do, depending on what new song you’ve come up with.” He teased.

“If my song gets you coin, I should have a share anyway.” Jaskier carefully teased back.

“And what do you call fresh meat on the path? That’s what you can call your share.” Geralt’s wolfish grin finally reached his eyes and Jaskier felt his heart catch in his throat.

He nodded carefully, his eyes dropping as his heart pounded, “Right.” He managed to mutter past his suddenly dry throat.

This isn’t how he expected the visit to turn out. At least it didn’t end in violence though. He certainly envisioned being physically thrown in his mind, though Geralt usually wasn’t that type of violent anyway. 

Geralt cleared his throat and Jaskier turned towards him with wide eyes, “Sorry, I… erhm… I’m bringing my bags up to my room, will you join me?”

Jaskier blinked twice, “Hm, yes! Ah, I mean, yes.” There was no need to seem overeager. “I’d love to help. Beats trying to make tanned hide coverings for the windows again.” 

Geralt grinned as he stood, picking up his discarded few bags, “Making windows is one of the better chores, be happy Vesemir isn’t making you lug in lumber from the woods.”

Jaskier lifted his two hands and pretended to scale it, “I don’t know, Lug in lumber from the cold outside or make windows while sitting inside. Hm, really a toss up.” 

Geralt rolled his eyes fondly (or at least that’s what Jaskier is going to call it), and nodded his head to the stairs, silently asking to go. Jaskier followed a step behind the way up.

Line Break

Aiden laid in Lambert’s bed, his head throbbing. It does that periodically these days. It would stop soon enough, once his mind remembered it had nothing to cause that hurt. 

Lambert was next to him lamenting how lovesick Geralt was earlier in the year and repeatedly mentioned the revenge they had taken while it had seemed like Geralt had definitely something else on his mind and how annoying the winter was going to be with it obviously being the Bard.

“I mean, did you see them? I think that’s the most Geralt’s spoken after directly climbing the Pass in literal years, Aiden. Years. The last time was about some weird kid who gave him a flower crown, which he kept by the way the fucking softy, and it did look great on him, if you ask me, but you obviously can’t tell him that. But still! Years. I mean it was good, yeah, it looked pretty, it was very sweet of the kid, actually, and I wouldn’t mind one if kids actually liked me, but…”

Aiden groaned softly, “Please tell me you’re done speaking, and you’ll let me rest.”

Lambert fell silent and a hand fell to his cheek, Aidens eye might have been closed he could imagine the perfect rendition of Lambert's concerned look, “Are you okay?” 

“Headache. I’ll be fine.” He muttered, and added, “Look on the bright side, with Geralt and Jaskier trying to figure out their shit, the only ones who will focus on us is Vesemir.”

Lambert snorted, “Vesemir keeps an eye everywhere but he chose Geralt as a favourite long ago, and seemingly has a soft spot for the Bard, somehow… I’d love to learn his secrets to that, not everyone can love him right?”

“Trust me, they don’t in towns.” Aiden muttered his arm coming up to cover his head, applying light pressure to his temple as well, “Now shush, I’m going to nap.” 

Lambert always seemed to choose the worst moments to be a chatterbox, be it injured, stressed, or feeling vaguely insulted. And usually, Aiden could banter back for hours until they were both tired, but they’d figure out their new normal soon enough. 

They’d had to before noon, when they were going to be working on some new drying racks together, that was going to be a whole different run on conversation from Lambert.

Bored Lambert’s speeches were verbal vomit straight from his mind with no coherent path, and Aiden needed at least a bit of strength for that. 

In Lambert's silence, Aiden moved his hand to peek out to see his love and friend furiously scribbling into a book. But at least he was quiet. 

Sleep, yeah that sounded good. Later he’d check in with the others and Jaskier, plan what to do when the thaws came and who was going to Lettenhove once more.

But that was for another time.