Chapter Text
As the main hall bustles and busies with noise, Jaskier stares down at the two plates in front of him. There are a thousand thoughts running through his head. On his way up to this castle-like keep his mind was far from the kind of cultural differences that he would have to deal with. He hadn't even considered the fact that Kear Morhen might operate differently than a normal court. Of course now he knows that, he's known that since the Warlord himself hadn't forced himself on him that first night. Just a few days ago. Now, he is faced with another difference he is not understanding.
There is a significant meaning behind these two plates, beyond the fact that he was asked to eat first, and behind the fact that both the Warlord and his right hand were the ones to hand them to him.
He wants to ask but he doesn't feel he can. He doesn't want to be rude but how else is he supposed to know what to do? Is he expected to eat all of this food? Is this how much the witchers eat? Perhaps they are just making sure he has enough before they finish off the rest. Maybe it was just the ritual of being the newest to the Keep. That tonight he is treated with this feast as his first time with the rest of them and then it will be on him to serve himself. He just doesn’t know.
Either way they have been kind to him so far and gracious when he was confused. If he messes up then he is sure that someone will correct him. With that slightly more relaxed thought, he begins to tuck in with the rest of the keep.
Conversation flows easily around him, it is clear that everyone is very close with each other in the hall. One of the biggest things he notices is that no one calls the Warlord by his title. It was all Geralt, or White Wolf. Jaskier knew he had asked him to call him that too but it still felt so strange referring to this man, so high above him, in just a friendly manner.
This first meal he mostly keeps to himself, just observing and getting a feel for the relationships around him. What was accepted and what wasn't. That and trying not to coo at the young princess who took Geralt's attention for most of the night. She was also served her own plate from the Warlord's hands but would often take directly from his plate. Geralt ignores it as often as it happens and Jaskier can’t help but fawn a little at the gesture.
You'd never see anyone in court tolerating such a thing. Children as young as four were expected to hold their place, keep their mouths shut and eat what was given. To see such an open and accepted display of parental care and childhood antics is unheard of. It helps to soothe Jaskier's nerves a little more.
"Bard." A strong feminine voice startles him out of his little moment caught up in Geralt and Ciri.
Yennefer stares over at him with an open expression. He realizes it was her who called him and something defensive starts to crawl over his open wounds.
"I wanted to apologize for earlier, when you first arrived." She continues. Jaskier feels his eyes widen at that. Where he expected a sneer or jab there is only a sincere face.
"I- what?" Jaskier questions, his sure fire image of the mage crumbling a little.
"She said she fucked up! Take the apology bard, you likely won't get another one in your lifetime." Lambert snorts, earning himself a lighthearted slap from the witch.
"As much as I hate to concede, I hate being wrong even more. However, what I said was insensitive and I was unaware of your situation, so I'm sorry." Jaskier's face lights up in embarrassment as he recalls the interaction and what he said in response. That first day had been a bit of a blur especially at the beginning. He remembers being ill and the world spinning while he tried to hold any scrap of dignity he was left with. Facing the council and the harsh words he spit and both the Warlord and the Warlord's presumed consort.
He can feel Geralt's eyes on him from next to him. He should apologize back, make amends. It wouldn't do him well to be on bad terms with someone so high up in the ranking so early in his stay here.
"Thank you, I-. I should apologize as well, I hope my spiteful words do not reflect on the nature of my character that day, I was under quite some duress as you might understand." She gives him an eyebrow raise that he isn't sure how to interpret. Geralt huffs to his side and Jaskier is also not sure how to take that.
"It is forgiven. I mean it was more than a little warranted." Yennefer says, amusement coloring her tone.
"Damn right it was! S'what made me like you from the start." Lambert calls out from his place before rejoining his own conversation. Jaskier files away that the Warlord simply does not care for interjections at the table. Honestly, with the lax way this dinner has been going, he isn't surprised.
"Then I'll say no more about it." Jaskier concludes, getting a small nod from the witch and a kinder smile, his image of her lying in pieces at his feet. He’s not sure how to feel about the whole conversation. It was simple and short but to the point and held no reserves. There was no hidden tone or implication in her voice, not that he could tell and it made him feel better. To know that he was not perceived that way by one more person makes something lighten in his chest. Perhaps this witch is not as bad as he thought her to be.
"Jask?" Eskel's voice calls him next, the sweet man turning to him with a gentle tone to call him away.
"I'd like to introduce you to some of the others." Eskel continues gesturing to the group of witcher he was conversing with just a moment ago. All witchers, various eye colors and builds, wearing various levels of armor and casual clothing. Jaskier's sharp eye notes the different medallions and the seemingly awkward visage they all make together. Still, he turns his entire attention to Eskel.
"Geralt has asked the leaders of each witcher school to join us this night but usually they gather wherever they wish." Eskel explains. Jaskier nods, understanding suddenly why he has been asked to join what looks like the head table in the hall. It is truly a kind gesture for the Warlord himself to orchestrate this. To allow Jaskier this formal opportunity to familiarize himself with the most important people in the Keep. Usually this would be done at a ball or during the entertainment part of the dinner but this place does not seem like the type to hold such a thing. Imagining Geralt trying to dance makes a smile break out over his face.
"Of the wolves you've met Lambert, myself and Geralt. Aubry and Vesemir of course." Eskel gestures to each as he speaks and Jaskier follows his hands across the familiar faces. Commuting each of their faces and names into memory once again just to be sure. After years in court he is familiar with the insult that forgetting a name or rank can mean.
"Then of course Geralt is the leader of the School of the Wolf." Jaskier rolls his eyes playfully.
"I could have guessed." He sasses back to Eskel's chuckle.
"Of the Cats you've met Aiden right?" Jaskier nods, smiling at the cat sitting next to Lambert. Aiden winks back at him and Eskel continues.
"This is Guxart, the leader of the cats." Eskel gestures to an older man with stiff posture. Jaskier isn't sure how old any of them are but this man seems around the same age as Vesemir. His hair is a vibrant red and his eyes reflect that if a little more faded. His hair is long, Jaskier suspects longer than even Geralt's though it is done up in a tight bun. Jaskier nods at the elder man with respect. He gives the same back but his narrow eyes remain hardened.
"Coen of the Griffins." Eskel moves his hand to a younger man. Bulky though not the bulkiest. A full, dark beard covers most of his jaw, his eyes are bloodshot and Jaskier wonders for a moment if he has been crying. His expression is kind as he greets Jaskier.
"A pleasure to meet you young bard. You might like to know that I have heard of your songs, though I much prefer your sonnets." The younger witcher praises and Jaskier has to fight the pleasant blush that spreads on his face.
"Thank you, It's always nice to meet someone who appreciates the arts." Jaskier admonishes.
"I'm afraid before we gathered there was a startling lack of that sort of appreciation in Kear Morhen." Coen laughs deep in his chest and shoots Lambert a look as if to imply he is the reason. Jaskier delights in the banter and giggles along with a few of the others.
"Then of course, Ivar of the Vipers." Eskel moves again. Another man, another stern look pierces the bard. It's as if they are all trying to get a read on him. His hair is shorn short and spikes up and back about an inch off his head. His most striking feature is a wide scar that covers his temple and just above his eye, sharply spiking down his cheek. His eyes are red, more vibrant than Guxart's and slitted thinly as they rake at Jaskier's nerves.
He says nothing to the bard, only regards him with a stare. Jaskier nods to him anyway, showing his respect before Eskel moves on.
"Junod of the Bears." Another older man, white hair like Vesemir's and closely cut though not as close as Ivar’s. His eyes crinkle with smile lines and he is clearly the largest at the table. His right eye is cut through with a scar similar to Geralt's and he gives a slight smile. It's warm and a nicer welcome than some of the others. Most notable about him is the use of furs in his outfit. He is one of the more dressed up witchers at the table. Full armor that is all lined with various furs and a shoulder piece that dips down his back covered in what looks like a wolf's pelt, though Jaskier hasn't seen enough wolves to know for sure.
"Stefan of the Cranes." An impressive black mustache dawns his face with not much more hair than that. He is less muscled than some of the others and his build looks closer to a Cat's than a Bear's. Jaskier gives another respectful nod and has it returned.
"Then finally, Iwan of the Manticores." His long black dreads are tied up in a knot and a little stubble gives his face a handsome shadow. He is larger like the wolves and holds himself with an air of importance that Jaskier can respect. Again the same ritual is provided and Jaskier nods to him.
It is now clear to him just how little he had known about witchers. Not only the variety in schools but everything from the eye color to the cultural norms of formal wear seem to be different across the different schools, even individual witchers. Even after he had first met Aubry and gone down the research binge in university, even after all of his knowledge-hungry attempts to learn more over his long years, he still finds himself slightly clueless in the face of all this.
"I had no idea there were that many schools." He voices his thoughts to Eskel.
"Most of the keeps that housed the schools are gone now and the rest of the world has forgotten about them. A witcher is a witcher, no matter what their medallion says." The scarred man says with a shrug. Jaskier frowns. He's studied history for most of the time he was at Oxenfurt even if it wasn't the main focus of his studies. He'd never heard anything about the witcher schools without having to go after the information himself. It's a disturbing idea that he has gone so long in his life without this seemingly basic information.
"It isn't entirely your fault. The continent thrives on misinformation about us. Back when witchers used to roam the continent, the less concrete information about us in institutions like Oxenfurt meant they could undercut us more easily. I doubt you could find any texts on witchers in nearly any library across the continent aside from our own these days." Eskel sighs and Jaskier lights up at this idea. He didn't know there was a library at Kear Morhen. Honestly, he hadn't really thought about it, but the prospect of a library in a place as old as this that has been protected from the purging that has plagued the continent as of late has him very excited.
Jaskier doesn't notice Geralt and Eskel leaning slightly closer as his scent lights up with his joy. That little fact doesn't go unnoticed by the other witchers at the table. It makes Aubry and Aiden sit up a little and turn more of their senses towards their little ball of sunlight, that protective instinct for their friend sparking in a new way as they see the evidence of the two witcher's interest in the bard.
"You have texts on witchers here? I looked all over when I traveled, but I couldn't find that much. Some, but not much. And don’t say back then like I wasn’t there, it wasn’t so long ago that witchers would come through Oxenfurt regularly looking for contracts. I’m not totally uninformed." Jaskier admits feeling a little sheepish with his lack of information but eager to show off what he does know and learn more. The idea of a great old library with special texts not seen anywhere else on the continent practically has him salivating.
"Of course I knew a little from Aiden and Aubry, lovely things they are, but less than I would have liked to be a guest in the court of witchers." Eskel nods.
"It's impressive that you found anything at all. I'll admit that, since we joined together under the White Wolf, we've been taking literature on witchers. Any that we could find, and we bring them back here." Eskel explains. Jaskier nods though he is confused.
"But you just said the misinformation allowed people to be cruel to you, why would you further that?"
"We don't walk the path anymore, no need to take their coin when we've got our own." Lambert sneers, joining the conversation.
"'Sides all people normally do with that sort of thing is use it against us. You're the outlier songbird, not the rule." Aubry also chimes in, his voice soft, almost defeated in its tone.
"Well that's just outrageous. Show me to these people who think they can get away with this and I will ruin their career with the single most scathing sonnet you could ever hear." Jaskier puts grandeur into his voice, projecting a little more than normal to add conviction to his words. It gets a couple of chuckles from the tables around them and the bard flushes a pretty color at that attention.
"From what Coen has said, I am inclined to believe you." Eskel laughs.
"He brought me up?" Jaskier leans forward to look down the table to Coen, who gives him a kind smile and a nod.
"Now that he says something I remember him saying something about a bard writing songs about witchers, one who had a record of using his music to spread rumors about particular nobles who had wronged him." Eskel's tone is almost teasing and Jaskier can't help the slight butterflies it sends through his gut. Fuck. Listening to someone appreciate his music… especially his more controversial pieces is making him flush.
"Bet the courts hated you." Lambert laughs in a good natured manner.
"I resent that. The ones who stayed on my good side delighted in the gift that was my presence. It has been a very long time since I was welcomed in any court I fear. After the war started in the south there has been very little time for the arts." He gets a little more morose by the end, lamenting a little.
"It's a shame that war often does that. Little funds left for finer things even when they are one of the most important indulgences in times like these." Coen agrees, shaking his head as if to chastise all those silly kingdoms who threw their bards out on the street the moment the first hardship came to pass.
Jaskier can't help but notice that he hasn't seen a bard at Kear Morhen either. It doesn't seem like the kind of place for artistry, save the exceptions that are Coen and Eskel. Not much room in the strict witcher curriculum for music he supposes. Perhaps he can convince Eskel or Coen to take up as a part time bard while he's still here. Maybe brighten up these lovely halls with a lively tune. Something that even the younger children of the keep would like. Something to dance to.
"What have you been doing as a bard if not playing in court?" Aiden, who has been listening in, now interjects.
"The people still needed me! Taverns often pay better than courts anyway, especially in Temiria. The alcohol is stronger there." Jaskier lets his voice tease. Eskel and Geralt share a look behind the bard, just a small glance to communicate understanding. They are the only ones who know truly what their new resident of the keep has been doing and eventually that information will need to be shared with at least their inner council, but if Jaskier wants it to remain secretive for now then that is up to him.
"Oh so not just those horribly stuck up sonnets that the nobles listen to?" Lambert teases, jerking his thumb at Coen as if to imply the griffin is one of them.
"I've been known to sing a raunchier tune now and again. Are you sure it won't be too harsh for you?" Jaskier teases back, a wry smile on his face as his scent loses all hit of nervousness and he sinks easily into the table's dynamics.
"Although, of course, a gentleman such as yourself would never ask me to sing such things in front of this wonderful angel." Jaskier coos at Ciri as he says it, turning to face the warlord with his precious daughter on his lap. Ciri, interestingly, pouts and turns to Geralt to complain.
"I'm not an angel, I'm a witcher! Right?" Her expression turns from that adorable pout to a slight confusion. Jaskier can't get enough, he already knows that he would kill for this girl and he hasn't even known her an hour.
"You will be pup, you're a little young for it now." The witcher rumbles to his daughter, absolute fondness softens his features; there is nearly nothing left of that fearsome scowl Jaskier had first known from the man. Jaskier briefly muses over how lucky Yennefer must be to have this adorable pair as her family.
"And who are you calling a gentleman, Lambert doesn't know the meaning of the word gentle." Aiden laughs, elbowing his lover as he makes the comments.
"I resent that! I sure was gentle with you last time we were on the field together. Didn't even throw you on your ass when you stumbled on that fucking rock." Lambert guffaws, Jaskier has no other way to describe the noise that the redhead makes. He finds himself giggling politely behind his hand as well. Their banter brightening his mood significantly.
He laughs and jokes with them all evening as they all eat. The meal is lighthearted and relaxed, nothing like the stress filled dinners he's used to from courts. A veritable pit field full of snares that he has to delicately pick his way around, carefully choosing each word as to not insult or dismiss the wrong people while also not revealing too much as to seem too familiar with others. It's exhausting normally, but he's feeling more energized than he has been in months.
His shoulders, normally so tight he can barely feel them, have slumped into their natural position. His fingers, normally clenched in the fabric of his pants, swirl in the air around him as he talks with animated motion. He feels more like himself than he has in years. Maybe more like himself than he has since this god forsaken war started.
Even Yennefer and Geralt join in occasionally with their comments, actively engaged with the conversation even if neither of them are the driving force behind it. Some of the school leaders also chime in from time to time too which is nice. It gives the bard a sense of what they are like outside of their roles in the hierarchy.
By the end he has found that he's eaten most of the food from both his plates and has lightened his heart significantly. He's also found that he has grown a better understanding of who each of these witchers are as people and might even, tentatively, call more of them friends even if he finds himself looking for the familiar faces of Aiden and Aubry throughout the night for comfort. Of their character he is more sure but… after a few days in the keep Geralt and Eskel, even Lambert have endeared themselves to him too.
If not completely reassured he feels lighter having had the time to spend not thinking about everything that is wrong with him. Everything that is broken about his mind and body. To just be a person among others. It’s freeing
The night winds down and eventually Geralt offers to escort Jaskier back to Eskel's room.
"Wait Eskel's room?" Jaskier looks suddenly very nervous as he turns back to the scarred witcher to confirm.
"I had no idea where to bring you and you needed healing. My room was the closest and I didn't think you would appreciate being brought to Geralt's at the time. We can set you up with your own of course but mine is larger than most and the hearth is well positioned." Eskel explains, giving Geralt an apologetic look as the warlord winces.
"I- well then where have you been sleeping?" Jaskier feels a sliver of that guilt creep back into his heart as he realizes that he's been taking up Eskel's room for the last few days.
"I've been occupying one of the spare rooms a little further down the hall." Eskel says kindly, sensing the slight distress on the bard.
"But your clothing must be in that room as well." Jaskier worries. Eskel's eyes widen slightly and his face flushes with a little color to his tanned cheeks. Across the table Aiden and Lambert both snicker, even Aubry is smiling now for some reason as Jaskier searches their faces for answers. His own turns up in a slightly confused expression.
"Don't worry songbird, he's been borrowing… from Geralt." Aiden wiggles his eyebrows at the bard suggestively and now both of them have flushed slightly in embarrassment. Jaskier feels the spike of fear strike him and hurriedly looks to Yennefer to get her reaction to this.
Shes… also laughing…
Jaskier is thoroughly confused now. That looked like flirting, like there was some intimate meaning behind such a thing but… well… he's wearing Aiden's clothing right now and that wasn't made a big deal out of so he's not exactly sure what is going on. Maybe they are just embarrassed because Eskel's fit is different to Geralt's, but that doesn't seem likely either.
"Oh, well we could always switch of course, now that I can walk mostly on my own I assume that was the plan." Jaskier offers, choosing to ignore the conspiratorial tone that Aiden has for now. Just one of the many things he will have to learn about while he's here.
"There's no rush, little lark. Once we can commission you some clothing and perhaps find you a lute somewhere in this keep, you'll need your own space to store things even if you prefer my room." Eskel continues speaking but Jaskier's mind is already spinning on a loop. Again with the pet name and the promises of his own items again. The idea of a lute. His own lute, even if he doesn't get to keep it once he leaves.
"I wouldn't kick you out for so long, you must think me horribly cruel. Had I known I would have retreated to a spare much sooner." Jaskier hears Geralt growl slightly at his words and he flinches. The growl cuts off with a soft choking noise. And the night was going so well too, now he's making a scene. He swallows down his slight startled fear and looks back to Eskel, not realizing he had dropped eye contact.
"If you feel ready, Jask, I'm sure Eskel doesn't mind." Geralt's voice is still as warm as it usually is, trying to sooth over his misstep.
"I'm sure. I'm the Warlord's guest after all, it would be inappropriate for me to impose so much." Geralt feels his stomach turn at the phrase even though Jaskier's tone is still light and slightly jovial. He feels himself leaning in to scent the bard from a far. He can already smell the slight distress already dissipating from his growl and the warmth that still clings to his scent from an easy evening. Underneath all of that is the nervousness that he has begun to think will never leave the pretty lark's scent. He hopes it does and maybe giving him some place to retreat to will help with that.
"As my guest it is my job to accommodate you and your entirely reasonable needs. We'll have someone make up the room Eskel is staying in for you. It will be ready by the time we are finished in the War room after dinner." Geralt's tone is light and warm still, it rumbles deep and pleasantly in his chest and his eyes. Though focused, it holds a kindness that still makes the little bard's heart thump. He still feels unsure about what to do with all of this kindness. Part of him hopes that it stops so as to not break down his carefully built fortress of safety. Another part wishes he hadn't needed a fortress to begin with and could accept such gestures with grace and gratitude rather than scrutiny and anxiety.
"Well then, I fear I will not be able to get any more of this. This is far more food than I am used to. Now… I am unsure of how the meal ends here…" Jaskier says cautiously, looking toward the Warlord for an answer.
"Just leave it Jaskier, we should attend to your letter sooner rather than later." Geralt says, carefully slipping Ciri from his lap into his chair as he stands. Eskel is not far behind him, giving a few nods to the other school leaders further down the table. They gesture back to him in various curious ways though Jaskier doesn't understand much of it and they don't remind him of any greeting or goodbye he's seen.
Jaskier looks around, getting the hint. He goes to stand, giving a polite bow to the other leaders, thanking them for their company and telling them it was nice to meet them. Most seem indifferent, giving him a nod but he does get a few smiles from others. Coen especially looks at him fondly and promises to catch up on his later works so they can discuss it.
Overall, Jaskier follows the two witchers out feeling good. If not healed or fixed, at least safer in the keep now that he knows more than just a few people. After the day of excitement he's had he's glad that the only thing left to do is write back to the network. Of course it hasn't escaped his notice of the caution that the two witchers have been taking with the Sandpiper business but he can't blame them. This whole keep must be built on trust and he is still an outsider here. Not that they have made him feel that way, it's simply a fact of his time here.
Even if he isn't human he certainly passes for human, and even if there are humans in the keep, he is still an outsider. Some part of him feels a little guilty for the advantages that it has given him in life by his mothers callous actions. He tries to remind himself of the good he's done for other elves but sometimes it's not enough. Being here, surrounded by people who have literally escaped the rest of the continent to be safe, that feeling of being an outsider only amplifies.
That's part of the reason why he is so anxious to get in contact with his network. Maybe while he's here he can establish a direct line to the warlord for the refugees. Figure out a little more about what he means when he says that they have been accepting them into the kingdom. Some close up insight into that process would really be helpful for when he returns to the continent.
He follows Geralt and Eskel back to the war room almost silently. The atmosphere gets a little tense as they go, the pressure suddenly increasing around Jaskier. It's a serious matter and they still have a lot to talk about. Jaskier revels in the fact that, in contrast to his first day here, he feels like an equal. Or at least like he is being treated like an equal. His matters and wants are being respected with a seriousness he is unused to; Eskel and Geralt have been nothing but kind and understanding with him even when he was causing scenes and burdening them with his situation. He feels a sudden gratefulness towards the two witchers just before that nagging voice reminds him that he likely will have to repay that kindness with something eventually. Whether it's information or service that is usually how things like this work.
He's at least known them long enough to trust that it won't be anything dehumanizing. Not anything like he expected to receive when he first arrived here.
They step inside and Eskel shuts the heavy wood door behind them. It's just the same as Jaskier remembers, although this time he is able to put the descriptor 'well decorated' into his thoughts about it. The furs and, now that he notices, the decorations on the walls are all that of a hunters trophy room. It's a little more tasteful than ones he's seen before and the antlers he spots are hanging rather than mounted. There is a faded tapestry behind Geralt's head chair too that he notices, intricate embroidery depicting a white haired man leading an army of black clad warriors into a fight against knights bearing the gold and black sun of Nilfgaard.
He finds himself a little lost in the details of it as Geralt and Eskel settle down in their seats with twin sighs.
"One of the Cranes made it for me." Geralt says after a moment, breaking the spell the artwork has on Jaskier.
"Sorry?" Jaskier says, darting his eyes to Geralt as it's clear the wolf is speaking to him.
"The tapestry. One of the Cranes made it for me after we won in Keadwen." Geralt says, joining the pretty songbird in looking over the neat thread lines that make up the image.
"But those are Nilfgaard knights…" Jaskier points out, his eyes focused on the image of Geralt with his sword held high as he charges.
"Even then we knew that just taking the blue mountains and Keadwen wouldn't be enough. Not to mention it took him months and by the time he was working on the enemies, Nilfgaard had taken Cintra. 'Artistic liberty' he said." Eskel fills in. Jaskier laughs, the understanding of an artist bringing him a smile.
"It's beautiful. I would like to meet this Crane if I can." Jaskier laments and Geralt hums, breaking the moment.
"I'm sure you would get along, just as you will with Coen." Geralt says, amusement coloring his tone. Jaskier finds the light hearted tease about their shared artistry only warms his insides rather than the usual coldness that the usual teasing leaves.
"Either way, we didn't come here for the art." Eskel gently reminds. Jaskier hums and takes his own seat, one of the across the large center table from Geralt and Eskel.
Eskel pulls out a few pieces of some nice parchment and a pen. It's nicer than Jaskier had expected so he is grateful. Though he does soon realize that he has no idea what he wants to say. Of course there is so much information that he needs to include but his thoughts swirl so violently when he tries to order them that it's hard.
"I-, just give me a moment to formulate my thoughts."
"Of course, take your time little lark. Let's start with the easy stuff." Eskel begins addressing the letter as being from the regency of the witchers, written by Jaskier the bard, overlooked by the warlord himself. Just as he does with all of the letters he gets Geralt's wax stamp and a nice dark blue candle for when they are ready to seal it.
"Right, enough stalling. They'll forgive me my scattered thoughts." Jaskier finally decides as he rests his chittering hands in his lap.
Geralt nods to him to continue.
"This is for Essi, though you should address her as Little Eye in your intro." Jaskier instructs and then pauses for Eskel to begin. Once he is done Jaskier continues.
"My dearest Little Eye-" Eskel gets to writing as Jaskier speaks slower to allow him to keep up.
"I resent my untimely correspondence and to leave you without due information rests heavy on my heart. These last two months have been eventful ones and I do not mean that lightly. Before I regale you with my woes I must- I must-" Jaskier stalls and Eskel pauses to let him think. Both witchers only hold patience in their expressions as they listen to Jaskier talk to this woman. There is a slight wince as Jaskier mentions that only as of now he is safe, implying that in the future he may not be, but it is schooled quickly. Too quick for Jaskier to catch.
"I must inform you that I am well, as of writing this I am safe, alive, and in recovery." Jaskier says, dropping his eyes as his tone turns serious. The implications do not get past the witchers, who shift uncomfortably.
"I do not say this to scare you but to reassure you, my sister, that any panic or fear would do nothing, but ruin your day. So please, dry your pretty eyes before you smudge this ink and listen." Eskel gives a small smile as he writes that part.
"My last correspondence should have been received a week after I arrived in Lettenhove, such is the one I sent just before entering the city. By the time that arrived I was already captured by my father and brothers. I know that you might have berated me for my hubris but I have already learned my lesson. I now write to you two months later from a safe location in the North. I shall be able to tell you more once I return but for now you will have to trust me." Jaskier sighs.
"This time reconnecting with my family was not to my benefit but my father's. To skip over the less pleasant details, he took issue with my lack of obedience in his deal with the king and I am now recovering with the witchers." Geralt frowns as Jaskier finally mentions them. He is debating whether or not it is a wise idea as connecting the Sandpiper to the Warlord could result in several different things.
For one it could bring more non-humans to Kear Morhen of their own volition, safety without the risk of having to find the Sandpiper first. It could also bring more trouble to the network's door. Geralt has no idea how large the network is or how prepared they are to fight off a militia. Part of that is by design he suspects but it still gives him pause.
"Jaskier?" Geralt interrupts as Jaskier takes a breath.
"Hm? Yes my dear?" Geralt ignores the slight flutter in his chest at the endearment. That's to say nothing of how he actively has to stop the growl in his throat at the possessive.
"You should consider the ramifications of implicating yourself with us in this letter, should it be intercepted." Jaskier nods and takes a moment.
"You are right, though I think that just saying 'witchers' isn't specific enough is it? No one would readily jump to the conclusion that a simple bard like me would have a seat next to the White Wolf himself. Besides, I was hoping to set up a more secure line of travel for those the network sends over and I can't do that without telling them that I am in fact in contact with witchers here. Essi nor anyone would believe me." Jaskier goes on, startling the two witchers a little bit with his single mindedness. Not even three days ago he was snarling hate filled words born of fear and the indignity of his stripped autonomy in this very room to these very people. Now his mind is elsewhere, clever and on top of every little detail. It makes Eskel smile, of course their little lark's first priority are the non-humans in his care. As soon as he is well enough to discuss anything other than dressing, feeding, or sleeping, his mind turns back to those who need his help. From the way Geralt smells, the White Wolf seems to have noticed too.
"Explain." Geralt simply states not unkindly, just asking for more clarification.
"I had meant to bring it up sooner but a few things got in the way."
"Your recovery and distrust of us." Geralt deadpans, making the bard wince and causing a spike of regret to slither into his chest. He curses his words and takes a breath to rephrase.
"I just mean that though you have expressed that this network is your responsibility as the Sandpiper, you should give yourself more grace." Jaskier's scent sweetens again and he gives a shy little smile at the witcher. There is no ignoring both the other men's reactions to that.
"Perhaps… but the war waits for no man." There is that dried flower scent of melancholy that flits through that usual warm sunlight and wildflowers.
"But it isn't just you right? When we spoke earlier you implied that the network was designed to work even if you were not in direct communication for a while. Not all orders come from you." Eskel says, trying to help him relax. Jaskier nods.
"I suppose it is more of a selfish reason that I am so desperate to reach back out. I have done enough time wasting these last few days so having something to focus on will help…" What he needs distracting from is left unsaid, leaving an ashen taste in both witcher's mouth. Still, neither would protest or imply that they know better for what Jaskier needs right now. They drop it for now and return to the matter at hand.
"Hm. So how would you like this addition to your network to work?" Geralt pushes forward.
"The easiest I can imagine would be a location across the border where a few guards could be stationed waiting to receive the caravans we travel with. The location would have to change often but if we were in contact that could be easily arranged." Jaskier theorizes aloud.
"That is not something we should send through messages. An in person meeting with your network's higher ups would prevent interception of that information." Eskel cuts in, worry evident on his face.
"My thoughts exactly. We should put something in for Essi to let her know that you plan to meet with us." Jaskier wishes he could use his hands effectively right now. Usually there is a lot more code to their messages but that requires drawn images and symbols that he just could not get Eskel to recreate effectively. So being vague is their first line of defense. It's not much, Jaskier realizes, but having an actual royal back them is more protection than they've ever been afforded. Likely with a Keep messenger too? It makes the whole thing feel a lot more secure.
"Would that be after you return to them or before?" Geralt's question sort of breaks the giddiness that Jaskier feels at getting this all laid out. Right, leaving. Traveling back to Redania and facing all of his wanted posters. He sighs as he reminds himself. Still it was a coming inevitability.
"I could- hmm…" Jaskier breaks himself off as his mind whorls with ideas. He doesn't want to impose himself on the Warlord and his newest idea would be exactly that. Extending his stay here until Essi can get and respond to this letter could take months depending on where she is right now and how long it takes for her to get back. That is what he would need to do if he wanted to wait to meet the network at the border, he's not sure he would trust many others with something this important. In the meantime he would be a drain on Geralt's resources but he could also work to establish a receiving system for refugees or if one already exists, strengthen it. It would also give him the opportunity to really get to know Geralt and make sure that his word is good when it comes to this sort of thing.
"What is it, little lark, you look… mmm- distressed." Geralt chooses his word carefully, slightly worried that he might further offend the bard.
"I have an idea… I- and please be honest with your thoughts- it uh requires me to ask much of you. Although we have only known each other a few days and you have only seen me at my worst, I would like to make an offer." Geralt and Eskel share a concerned look, neither of them liking how Jaskier is talking about himself, nor the sheepish look he has on. It's so different from the outgoing man they had caught a glimpse of at dinner. That they are hoping to see more of.
"I could… stay here-" Geralt swears his heart leaps into his throat as his insides churn with delight. It's such a strong reaction that Eskel looks back over to him with a snide face. Not that the other witcher is much better. Neither will deny that the idea of holding on to this little lark for a bit longer is extremely appealing. Their display at dinner likely made their intention clear to the whole keep and both feel a little guilty about that inappropriate behavior. Still, the heart wants.
"Just until Essi responds and we meet, that way I could personally oversee the exchange- with both of you there of course. While I was here I could go over your policies and programs for refugees as well. Geralt, you mentioned how important that was to you, especially for non-humans?" Geralt nods, that passionate look in the bard's eye holds his attention completely.
"I- if you'll excuse my bold presumptions, have a lot of experience with this sort of thing as you might imagine. If you would be open to that sort of advice or help then I would be delighted to fill that role." Jaskier huffs a breath, his passion leaving his lungs a little strained in his still slow recovery. His smile is broad and real, bigger than it's been as his idea spills out of his mouth. His scent colors with such joy both witchers lean in slightly to get another taste of it. It makes neither of them want to deny their little lark anything.
Geralt takes a moment to compose himself, lest the little voice in his head screaming at him to give Jaskier anything and everything he wants get the better of him and he makes a rash decision. This is a fairly big change and he has to be the Warlord of the north right now, not Geralt.
"Your involvement with our cross border relations is a separate conversation." He says, trying to keep his tone light so as to not trample on Jaskier's joy. The bard's face still falls a little and Geralt can feel Eskel glaring at him.
"Right, of course, let's focus on the task at hand. Everything else can come later." Jaskier's tone is a little less bright than before but still joyful.
"Finish the letter and invite Essi to meet with the witchers at the Keadwen border. We can always send another one with more details once we get that figured out. For now just letting her know that it is safe to keep sending people here and that you are safe is our top priority, no?" Eskel simplifies. Jaskier can see why he is the second in command to the Warlord. Jaskier nods and Geralt hums in assent.
"Where were we?"
"You were just telling her that you were recovering with us here." Eskel responds, rereading over his last sentence.
"Right, Right."
"It seems the migration patterns are the same as always, though they could be safer." Jaskier says, using the usual flowery language. To anyone who doesn't know what they are talking about it would seem an odd placement but to the three in the room it's fairly obvious. It makes the message clear to anyone in the know without having a messy set of codes. Not to mention Jaskier's lack of access to coded symbols right now.
"Perhaps an extension of witcher protected area though we would need to meet up to discuss where and how the logistics of that could work." Jaskier continues as Eskel keeps writing.
"Be on the look out for more correspondence from me with more details, I will figure it all out soon." Jaskier finishes and Eskel follows shortly after.
"Alright, then the closing, if that's all you want to say?" Eskel looks at the relatively short letter. It's not nothing of course, but it's not as much as he would have expected.
"I can't tell her everything of course and I'm still deciding exactly how much I want to say. It's all still… eh- it doesn't matter. What matters is the important items were written down and now we have a clearer plan for the future." Jaskier says, trying to keep his smile written. He still catches how Eskel's and Geralt's eyes meet with something he can't describe and a little bit more guilt flicks into his mind. He has been pushing a lot on them very quickly, it's unreasonable of him to dump more on them. Especially something as trivial as his own emotional turmoil.
The sooner he can wrap this up, the sooner he can get back to making himself as inconspicuous as possible. Disappearing into this keep as just another human is probably his best bet. The less these people have to deal with him, the more likely they will be to help him when it matters and what matters right now is this connection with the network.
Both of the witchers notice the spiral in Jaskier's scent and both feel the insatiable tug on their hearts to fix it. To make the warmth bloom again and bask in sun and wildflowers once again. Neither knows what to do or how to fix it. Eskel is better at comforting as a general rule but this situation is wholly known to both of them and they don't want to make Jaskier feel embarrassed by letting him know that they've noticed his distress. The bard is clearly trying to hide it, despite knowing about the witcher's enhanced senses. Perhaps he doesn't know the full extent of what they can sense.
"Finish with this: Always your favorite bard and muse, Dandelion." Jaskier finishes the letter off and Eskel nods, writing it down.
"Dandelion." Geralt says, as if tasting the word on his tongue.
"Yes. My stage name of course. I always write to her with a mixture of my names depending on what sort of code words I use. It makes the network look much bigger than it is to any outsiders and it makes things harder to trace back to me." Jaskier says, rattling off his reasons as if to placate some accusation that hasn't been said. Geralt hums and nods.
"It's smart, is all. Little Lark." Geralt admonishes, catching himself leaning in at the faint sweetness that radiates of Jaskier again at the pet name. If calling their newest guest pretty names is all it takes to cheer him up then Geralt is hard pressed to deny him. Of course both witchers know that this is simply a temporary solution to the deeper ache that their bard feels, but the less time Jaskier has to spend in his own head, the better.
"Oh well… thank you." Jaskier says, clearly not having expected the complement.
Eskel smiles and seals the letter with one of their simpler seals, one that doesn't announce it's coming right out of the hands of the White Wolf himself. Less likely to be noticed if whoever they send to deliver it runs into trouble.
"Right- now that's over I'm quite tired. If we could go and get the rooms sorted out, I think that would be lovely." Jaskier says, stifling a yawn. Geralt huffs an amused laugh, trying to cover how cute he thinks the sleepy bard is like this. Eskel is a lucky bastard to have this pretty man sleep warm in his bed these last few days. Given that was because Jaskier was recovering but still.
"Alright. Eskel will get this sent, I'll help you move your clothing and furs." Geralt says, the exhaustion seeping into the warlord's voice as he stands and stretches. Jaskier follows suit as Eskel begins to set up the proper routes to get everything to where it needs to be.
"To the Falling Trout Inn, in Oxenfurt. As for Essi and if she's not there, ask for Shani. Someone will take it for them there and I know nearly everyone working." Jaskier calls out to Eskel as he and Geralt get ready to leave once again. Eskel nods and writes that down on a paper attached to the envelope.
"Thank you for this tonight." Jaskier says as they finally settle his things into the spare room Eskel has been using. It's not as grand as Eskel's but it is still a large sight better than what he is used to. The bed is comfortable and well stocked with furs and other comforts. The clothing he is borrowing from several different witchers is packed away in a chest at the foot of his bed and there is a flint placed next to the hearth.
Eskel was right when he said that his room had better placement, this hearth is not as close to the bed but still should work to sufficiently warm the room.
"Of course, you are my guest." Geralt says, a lilt to his tone that implies amusement.
"Many of the kinder kings I've met would never even consider being as accommodating as you have been." The bard's tone is soft and a little sheepish as he says this. Geralt chuckles in that low tone that only brings warmth into the space.
"Many of those kinder kings needed to have a whipping boy as a child." Geralt says, getting Jaskier to laugh behind his hand in that sweet way he does. Geralt nearly purrs as his scent brightens and that musical sound rings perfectly in the space.
"I suppose you're right. You did not grow up with your power. That is the difference."
"No one had to teach me to feel what others feel." Such a simple statement that carries so much weight. Jaskier has the urge to smooth out the tension in those shoulders, making the warlord relax for once. He refrains himself, clutching his fists tight to keep them at his sides.
"No, no you wouldn't have needed it. You are too good a man to need such natural things taught to you." Jaskier says, the absolute antithesis of what he had first believed when coming here.
"I'm sorry that I ever felt otherwise." The bard drops his head a little to the side and flushed embarrassment fills the room.
"It's not your fault. I did not take it personally." Geralt admonishes, waving his hand away as if to dismiss Jaskier's apology.
"Still."
"No, I won't accept those words from you, Jask. You are not the one to blame, nor are you the one I will hold accountable." There is something dark in his voice that Jaskier can't identify. It sends a thrill of adrenaline through the bard, as if staring down the true predator that the Warlord is. He expects to feel fear next but… it doesn't come. Geralt is defending him as he has done since the moment Jaskier arrived. Besides… Now that he is the White Wolf's, a claim that sends a shiver down his spine with the implication, he feels protected. Jaskier is going to have to get used to all of these new feelings if he is planning to stay here for a while.
"Thank you, Geralt." His name on Jaskier's lips has never sounded prettier.
"Oh! I also had a few questions about what happened at dinner I-" Jaskier says, trying to get information before he forgets.
Geralt cuts him off with a hand and a sympathetic look.
"You are exhausted, little lark. Rest, we have time." Jaskier nods, feeling the pangs of his exhaustion start to really creep in.
"Yes, you're right, I think I shall." Jaskier says, still a little sheepish at being cut off. He's been told to shut up before. Many, many times he's been told that he speaks too much. This doesn't feel like that. Geralt is worried for his sleep and is kindly telling him that he should rest. It makes him feel warm again, protected again. He does need some time to sort through all of these feelings.
"Good night Jaskier." The warlord dismisses as he exits.
"Sleep well Geralt."
And with that Geralt leaves, closing the door softly after he does. Another day finished in this new existence. He's a lot more content with his situation now that he's contacted Essi and had a good bath. Not only that but he's a little more clear on what his role can be here and what the plan is going forward. He has a lot to think about. Not least of which being the two witchers who have been taking care of him so kindly these last few days, and all of the new people he's met and bonded with at dinner.
There is less uncertainty in the air and it makes him more confident. Where his father kept him in that same routine of pain and suffering, there was always the uncertainty that came with not knowing why he was there and what his father was going to have done to him next. Here, everything feels much more simple. It’s helping him keep up with the others as he recovers from his time there. As much as he will boost, his mind has been affected and it’s not just his burns that are healing from the experience. He still needs time, he is just not sure how much or if he will ever go back to feeling like he did before.
He sleeps that night in foreign clothes, in warm furs, next to a lit hearth. The injuries on his hands and feet are achy but not overly painful and his mind swims with sensations and thoughts.
He sleeps restfully, his body needing it after such a packed day in the keep. He hopes that there are similar days to come.