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A Bard’s Broken Heart

AN: This is yet another 10k+ post mountain fic about Jaskier. I have a bit of a problem, but I promise it’s good! Jaskier’s sad and fed up so he sings! The songs in this fic are Fair by the Amazing Devil, I've No More Fucks to Give by Thomas Benjamin Wild, Farewell Wanderlust by the Amazing Devil, and No Worries by Robert Hallow.

Jaskier's ears were ringing, his mouth slightly agape as he stared in horror at the man he once thought was his best friend, who he had loved, but who clearly didn't love him.

"If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands." The words were the harshest that have ever been thrown his way. His voice was a deep and angry growl that sent a chill up his spine, and not the good kind. It took him a moment to gather himself enough to speak, and he couldn't be more grateful that Geralt had turned his back to him. If he had to look at him he knew he would burst into tears.

"Right. Uh... Right then... I'll- I'll go get the rest of the story from the others..." He knew he wouldn't. "See you around Geralt." Except he hoped he wouldn't. He could go the rest of his life without seeing this bastard and it would be fine by him. Except he'll miss him... fuck everything hurts so damn much.

He turns and slowly makes his way down the mountain. Why is it that whenever your sad, you're slow? He wanted nothing more than to be as far away from the mountain as possible, and yet his feet drug in the dirt. He finally made it to the lower level of the camps where everyone left their horses, and that's when he saw her.

A sob caught in his throat as he realized he would never get to see her again after this...

He trudged over to Roach, her ears perked towards him as she tossed her head. Hot tears streamed down his face and a trail of snot dripped from his nose. He reached up with his handkerchief to blow. She gave a concerned whinny, gently bumping his shoulder with her head to comfort him. He only cried louder. He wrapped his arms around her neck and cried the hardest he had since he began his walk. Gods, he could barley breathe.

"Goodbye girl. I'm gonna miss you so much." He pulled back, and Roach nickered in distress, pressing into him more. Jaskier stroked her muzzle as he spoke around sobs. "I have to leave, and I'm afraid I won't be coming back." She snorted, as if questioning him.

"I know, I don't want to either. But you know how Geralt is, and he made it clear he never liked me." Call him crazy, but he swears she shook her head. He sighed, "It's true I'm afraid. I'd tell you what he said, but it hurts too much to repeat. So I guess this is goodbye," he sniffled, pulling out an apple he had been saving, just for her. He gave her one last, tight hug and a few pets before turning and going.

Roach pulled on her tether, trying to follow him. The farther he walked, the more distressed she became.

Why was Jaskier leaving them? Why was he so sad? What did Geralt do? Surely this isn't the last time she'll see him, she had really grown to love him, almost as much as she loved Geralt.

Jaskier's crying increased tenfold as he heard Roach's neighs of distress. She pawed at the ground, throwing her head back as she brayed. Jaskier didn't dare look back. He didn't need his heart broken a second time today... Truly he would die.

It was well past nightfall when he made it to the closest town near the base of the mountain. He knew if he camped on the mountain it would only increase his chances of seeing Geralt or Yennefer, and that was the farthest thing from what he needed.

It was barely past midnight when he stumbled into the inn's tavern, weary and weak. He sat at the bar and ordered the first of many drinks. He needed to forget. He needed to be numb. Someone noticed his lute case and came up demanding a song. He looked at them with bloodshot eyes and answered in a broken voice, "I'm not working right now, sorry. I've had a rough day." But they were insistent and even more drunk than he was.

They grabbed him by the collar, lifting him off of his stool. The barmaid eyed them wearily, unsure of what to do.

"I said, play us a fucking song."

"Are you perhaps deaf? I'm not playing anything, I simply wish to have a few drinks and a bite to eat before I retire for the night," he clarified, shoving the man off.

"I ain't deaf! Now if you know what's good for you, you'll play a fucking song or else!"

Jaskier was done. There was nothing left to fight for, he just felt empty. Nothing mattered anymore. "Oh so maybe you're just stupid then. My mistake." He stood to go to his room only to be shoved back down in his seat. Before he could do anything, his head was slammed into the bar. He burst to life, ready to unleash all of his hurt onto this man who picked the wrong fight.

This is what Jaskier needed. A good adrenaline rush! He craved to feel bone crack under his fists, to have blood on his hands, both from this poor sucker and his own cracked knuckles. Only some bastard came and stole that away, delivering a swift punch to the side of the head, knocking him out. The barmaid had ran and gotten the owner, and the assailant was thrown outside. Jaskier huffed. Seemed he can't even have the pleasure of getting the shit beat out of him. It would sure feel a hell of a lot better than what he was currently feeling. And it would've been a nice distraction.

The man sat down next to him, and Jaskier refused to look up. He just took a few large gulps from his tankard before speaking.

"I would've handled it you know."

"I don't doubt it, but you look like you've had a rough day."

Jaskier snorted into his glass. "You have no idea," he muttered. He glanced to the side, taking him in. He was tall, maybe even taller than Geralt. Shit, no, don't think about him. You can't let this stranger see you cry. He allowed himself to turn his head more, studying him. He had dark hair, just past his ears and ended near the nape of his neck. His face was handsome, even if he had a huge scar running down his right side and caused his lip to curl, almost in a sneer. And how could he possibly miss those striking gold eyes.

Jaskier winced, finishing off his drink and gesturing for another.

"No offense but the last thing I need is to be saved, especially by some witcher," he was decently drunk, his words slurring but he managed to get just the right amount of discontent in his voice. The witcher held up his hands in mock surrender.

"Never said you did." He was just about to leave, but a strange part of Jaskier wanted him to stay. Maybe so he could tell him everything he wishes he could tell Geralt now.

"Y-you know, you aren't so great-" he started. The man tilted his head in curiosity, settling back into his chair to listen. "With your stupid potions and swords. I mean yeah you guys are strong but there's plenty of strong folk out there. And FUCK all that "witchers don't feel" bullshit, I know it's a damn lie!" He pointed an accusatory finger at him. The witcher only smirked and put his hand back on the table.

"I mean who the hell do you think you're fooling? Yourselves. I mean you guys are so emotionally constipated you can't even bring yourself to call someone a friend after they've been traveling with you for two fucking decades! And not once in that time did I hear a thank you Jaskier, you're not as useless as I once thought Jaskier. No, it's always you're such a fucking nuisance, and you ruined my whole life." He deflated after his little rant, hunching over his drink in shame. The witcher held out his hand.

"Eskel," he greeted formally. Jaskier took it in a loose handshake, not having the energy to put effort in it.

"Jaskier," he mumbled.

"So, emotionally constipated, huh? Pretty grumpy from the sounds of it too," he pondered aloud. Jaskier looked at him, puzzled. "And let you travel with him for 20 years. Take in the consideration that fine gentleman demanding you sing for him... you were with Geralt," he concluded.

"You're good."

"So, what the hell did my dumbass brother do now?"

"What didn't he do would be a better question. I can't believe I stayed with him after all this time. I should've never started singing his praises," he lamented.

Eskel shrugged, "You sure did help the rest of us out. Thanks for that." Jaskier stared at him with wide, hopeful eyes. Tears barely held back.

"Y-you're welcome."

"Look, Geralt's an idiot, especially with his feelings. But what I know is his bark can be a hell of a lot worse than his bite. He probably didn't mean whatever it was he said," he tried to comfort him. Jaskier shook his head.

"You weren't there. In all the time we've been together I've never seen him so angry. And it was all directed at me. You wanna know what that bastard whoreson said to me?" Eskel nodded. He was very curious.

"First he snapped and blamed me for all his life troubles, simply because I was there. Then he said, he said..." he trailed off, a lump in his throat preventing his speech.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have to tell me if you want."

"No, no I need to. Need to get this off my chest, share the burden, you know?" He took a shakeup breath to brace himself. "If life could give me one blessing... i-it would b-be to take you o-off my hands," he barely managed to say. He couldn't hold it back any longer and the tears began to flow once more. He turned away from Eskel.

He was shocked to say the least.

"Wow... Geralt you really fucked up," he said in disbelief.

"I never want to see him again," Jaskier spat out.

"I don't blame you."

"But... is it wrong that I also do? Want to see him?" he asked. Eskel shook his head.

"Not at all. Like you said, you traveled together for 20 years. Hard not to get attached to someone during all that time."

"Not hard for Geralt apparently," he snarled. Eskel placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Fuck him."

For the first time that day, Jaskier gave a small, albeit sad smile. "Yeah, fuck him." They clinked their mugs together, chugging the rest of their drinks. Eskel ordered two more.

"You've had a shit day, let me pay for it," he insisted.

"Thank you," Jaskier said. "Not just for the round, but for everything. For listening."

Eskel shrugged, "What can I say? You're fun to listen to, even if you're sad as hell right now. Bet you're a hell of a guy when you're not all torn up like this."

Jaskier was floored. Maybe because it was the most genuine compliment he's ever received, or maybe because it was a witcher who said it. Or maybe because Geralt had never said anything half as nice to him.

He put a hand over his heart, "Wow, that's- that's the nicest thing a witcher's ever said to me." He was only half joking. Many drinks later, and they were both sufficiently drunk. Jaskier leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder. It had been... years, decades even, since someone touched Eskel like this. No traces of fear, hatred or disgust on his scent. He wasn't paid to hold him like this. He just simply treated him as though he were normal. It made his head spin, and not just from the amble amount of ale he had.

"I can't believe I lo-hic-loved him," he slurred, interrupted by a hiccup. Eskel's eyes widened at the confession. "I'm just a ssstupid, hopeless romantic who fell in love with someone who- who can't even admit, at the very least! That they like me!"

He patted his back in a mimic of comfort. "Hey, uh- I'm sure you're not those things. Romantic yes. But stupid and hopeless? I don't think so." Jaskier reached a hand up to pat his cheek, his scarred cheek, in thanks.

"Oh you poor stupid witcher. If I am anything it is stupid and hopeless." Eskel rolled his eyes.

"You said loved, as in past tense."

Jaskier sighed, sitting up on his own. Eskel almost felt sad. "Yes well, it's hard to love someone after they say something like that. But I already miss him. Yearn to see and touch him again. But I can't let that happen."

"Why not?" Eskel tilted his head in curiosity.

"Because I'm weak," he said, his voice so small. So utterly broken. "I'm weak for him. I already know that if I even catch a glimpse of him I'll come crawling back, begging for forgiveness." His voice was wet and heavy now.

"You're not the one who should be begging for forgiveness."

"You see, my brain knows that, but my heart tells me to try and get him back. I feel, torn. Why do I still want him even after he shoved me away in the worst way possible?" His eyes glistened with unshed tears as he looked to Eskel for an answer.

"Uuuh, look kid, if you're looking for a real answer, I don't have one. I may understand feelings better than Geralt, but they're still a mystery to me," he admitted.

"Yes, I suppose so.

Eskel was staring into his mug when he spoke. "Winter will be here before you know it. Normally we all head to the keep and wait out the bad months. I'll probably see Geralt, want me to, I don't know, pass on a message? Teach him a lesson?" he asked. It wouldn't be the first time he beat him up, and he always had fun doing so. And Lambert always liked to watch.

Jaskier snorted. "I don't know. Make him feel guilty though, if you can. Tell him he blew it."

Eskel nodded solemnly. "I can do that. Anywhere specific you're planning on going?" he questioned. Jaskier eyed him suspiciously.

"Depends. Do you plan to tell Geralt where I ran off to?" he asks. Eskel shrugged.

"Depends on how sorry I think he is," he answered truthfully. Jaskier didn't really like that answer but at least it was honest. "I won't tell him if he hasn't learned his lesson. You have my word."

Jaskier hums. "I don't really know where I'll go from here. Wherever I feel like going, I suppose. I might go back to Oxenfurt and teach for the winter." Eskel nodded.

"Right, well. I'll be on the lookout for you. Stay safe." He clapped him on the back as he rose from his seat, heading out of the tavern doors and into the night. Jaskier went up to the room he rented and cried himself to sleep.

~~~~

Geralt realized his mistake, and shame washed over him. His anger at Jaskier had been misplaced, and he didn't deserve his harsh words. But it was so easy to blame him instead of taking the fault as his own. As he walked down the mountain alone, he began to feel worse and worse about what he said to Jaskier. He always had good intentions, even if things didn't always work out. He was pure at heart and tried his best. Geralt should've tried harder. He needed to find him and apologize. And hopefully it wasn't too late for Jaskier to take him back.

When he made it down to Roach, she seemed less than pleased with him. As she saw him approach in the distance, she snorted angrily and tossed her head, looking away from him. It didn't take long to figure out why. The closer he got to her, the more he could smell Jaskier. His scent was all over her, mingling with salty tears and bitter sorrow. Geralt frowned to himself, knowing he was the reason Jaskier had left in tears.

Roach didn't meet his eyes, even when he tried talking to her. He stroked her mane apologetically, but still received the cold shoulder. He sighed.

"I promise, I'll make things right with him." She whinnied as if to say, "You better."

At least that had been his plans. But the bard was surprisingly hard to track. The trail had gone cold by the time he had made it to the small town at the base of the mountain. This would have to wait. He was running low on coin and needed to find jobs.

~~~~

Jaskier had no idea where he was going. He drifted with the wind, a truly lost spirit unsure where he would turn up next. He supposed he could continue on the path, drifting from town to town like he normally did. However, that increased his chances of running into Geralt... He could head to the coast alone, but that would just remind him more of his rejection. It was too early to head back to Oxenfurt, summer only just around the corner. Hm, the road it was, he supposed.

He sat on the forest floor, idly strumming his lute. He needed new music. Something to help sort out the mess inside his brain.

"Damnit Jaskier! Why is it whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it's you, shoveling it?"

"Well, that's not fair-"

Fair. Nothing in this word was fair. He inhaled deeply, breathing with the grass and sighing with the trees. He began plucking a few chords, testing the waters of a new song.

"It's what my heart just yearns to say, In ways that can't be said. It's what my rotting bones will sing When the rest of me is dead."

His fingers gained more confidence, strumming more clearly as he continued.

"It's what's engraved upon my heart, In letters deeply worn. Today I somehow understand the reason I was born."

Images of Geralt flash before his eyes. A dazzling bright smile, so rarely seen. A voice that could be so gentle when he tried to be. Soft golden eyes, warmer than sunshine and sweeter than honey. His hair was surprisingly soft for everything that happened to it. Maybe monster guts are a sort of conditioner.

But he also remembers his lips curling in hatred. Evil words spat his direction, ending 20 years worth of friendship. Well, friendship on Jaskier's part.

He thought of Yennefer, and everything she took from them both. Things had been relatively fine until that fucking djinn. But... maybe Geralt did care after all, at least a tiny bit. He had seemed so desperate to find someone to save him... But of course he could never compete with Yennefer. She was powerful as all hell with the beauty and grace to match. She knew the control that kind of thing had over others, and used it to her advantage. He couldn't really blame her. He probably would've fallen at her heels had she not been so utterly terrifying. They were perfect for each other, he thought sadly. She was a heartless witch in search of something she may never have and he was a clueless witcher who cared very little about anything else and denied the fact he had any sort of emotions. They are timeless beings, similar to himself. Oh if only Geralt knew... maybe he wouldn't have been so quick to choose her.

"Cos outwardly he says I try so hard to make you laugh at me. And she, she does, She laughs as though she not heard the joke ten thousand times before. And he adores her, He watches her get dressed as though she's hurtling through time. Oh darling please be mine."

That was a good verse. Most people will assume it's about some lost love, a fair maiden who was swept off her feet by another man. Well, that was half true. A few more verses, then he reached the chorus. He let some of his magic seep into his words, having filled his heart and overflowing from his mouth. He didn't know what good it would do, but it felt right on his tongue.

Elven magic was a bit different than the kind that mages typically used. It drew its power from the earth, and in return the magic would breathe life back in the world. He remembers his grandmother's lectures that he had brushed off at the time. You have to pull from your core, whatever that meant. He hadn't tried in years, and when he had, he could never tell a difference.

"It's not fair, It's not fair how much I love you. It's not fair, Cos you make me laugh when I'm actually Really fucking cross at you for something. And he'll say- Oh how, oh how unreasonable. How unreasonably in love I am, with everything you do. I'll spend my days so close to you cos if I'm Standing here, maybe everyone will think I'm alright."

The words felt hot in his mouth, tasting like a sweet smoke. He didn't notice how the life around him teemed, seemingly growing towards him. He had always had an affinity towards nature, as most elves do. In this moment, the whole forest grieved with him. As he continued to sing, a doe and fawn wandered into the clearing. A small fox raised its head from where it was bedded down. He debuted his newest song at the next tavern he stopped at.

It was late, and the patrons that were left were tired and very inebriated. He had played some upbeat crowd pleasers and now, all their excess energy was spent. They were bound to be much more accepting of a slow song by now. He pulled up his stool and sat down, adjusting his lute as he did so.

"Alright, one last song. It's a new one I've been working on, so I hope you enjoy it." His eyes locked on a table full of young, good looking women. "This is for anyone out there with a broken heart." And just like he knew they would, they swooned.

The song was very well received; as he traveled the continent, so did his song. Followed by another and another.

His latest was an upbeat jaunty little tune, that left courtrooms and taverns alike in stitches. It was one everyone, no matter who you were, could relate to. He even thought it was more popular than Fishmonger's Daughter, which was saying something.

He stood in the ballroom of some palace in Vizima. It was the Duke's birthday, so of course they had requested only the best bard in the continent to come and play. And with flattery like that, how could he refuse? All around him beautiful people talked and ate, flitting about the room. He was pulled from group to group, engaging in both thrilling and dull conversation. He grabbed his lute from where he had set it aside, strumming the strings a bit to gain the room's attention. With everyone staring at him, he smiled, wide and dazzling.

His fingers set to work, playing the bouncy tune as he bobbed up and down. The crowd erupted in cheers upon the recognition of the song.

"I've tried, tried, tried, and I've tried even more. I've cried, cried, cried, and I can't recall what for. I've pressed, I've pushed, I've yelled, I've begged, In hopes of some success. But the inevitable fact is that it never will impress!"

He jumped into the chorus, spinning around the room as everyone danced and clapped along.

"I've no more fucks to give My fucks have runeth dry I've tried to go fuck shopping but there's no fucks left to buy! I've no more fucks to give Though more fucks I've tried to get I'm over my fuck budget, and I'm now in fucking debt!"

Laughter and cheers rang through the air. Men and women hooked arms and twirled around in circles before changing partners. Skirts twirled across the floor and feet stomped in time to the beat.

When Jaskier had written the song, he didn't expect it to grow so popular. He had been so fed up with life. So unequivocally done with his very existence. Of course he was still upset with Geralt. He never knew if he would ever really get over that. And Yennefer's utter bitchiness any time they were in the same vicinity fueled his fire. His talk with Eskel stood out in his mind, and the thought of possibly seeing Geralt both thrilled and terrified him. Oh how he hoped the bastard was sorry. Lately all of his love endeavors ended in either failure or nothing more than a one night stand. And overall he just felt like anything he tried backfired. He was tired, hopeless, and fed up. All of this swirled in his mind until it was just too much. He scribbled down the very first thing his angry hornets nest of a brain could spit out, and this was the result. It was cathartic, and he had sure got a kick out of it. He played it in a seedy tavern as a joke, but they absolutely loved it. Begged him to play it again and again until his fingers bled. Now wherever he went, it was a sure thing that he would have to play that song.

Not that he was complaining though. It was a hell of a lot better than when he was forced to sing Toss A Coin.

He finished with a flourish, holding out the last note and strumming the lute strings a bit faster, a gesture of finality. Everyone roared with applause and cheers, coin and even a few flowers tossed his way. Hm, they looked strangely similar to the bouquets acting as table center pieces... Regardless, he reveled in the praise all the same. Even went as far as to catch a flower in mid air- with his teeth. The cheers grew louder at that, and he shot a wink towards the crowd.

He was stolen away from his glory by a countess who dragged him to a quieter corner of the room.

"Your musical skills are most impressive," she complimented, taking a sip from her goblet. "Though I'm sure you're used to hearing that by now," she teased gently. Jaskier chuckled.

"Oddly enough, I don't hear it too often. But I suppose I don't need to, I'm quite aware of my talents," he said, testing the waters. She raised a brow, seemingly intrigued.

"Oh? And what are your other talents?"

"I am a professor at Oxenfurt. Many of my students graduate with honors. And of course you're aware of my musical skills," he said, plucking at his lute, making her giggle. "But I must say most of my other talents are only shared in closed quarters." He licked his lips, awaiting her response. She flushed beautifully, adverting her eyes as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Well, I must say. As forward as that was I am most intrigued." She opened her fan, wafting air over her face. She couldn't seem to help the smile on her face as she pulled on his arm, leading him down a corridor and into an empty bedroom. After an hour and a half of pure bliss they returned to the party, satisfied and smitten, if just the slightest bit disheveled. This time, he was pulled away by a viscount.

"I'm glad you could make it Julian!" Jaskier didn't bother correcting him. After all, it was what the man had first known him as, and he supposed he was too old to learn anything different.

"I am too. This is quite the party," he said, taking a drink.

"So, where's your witcher?"

Jaskier nearly choked, sputtering his drink and coughing slightly. The man patted his back to help.

"Come again?" he asked, hoping he was just hearing things.

"The witcher you always sing about. He usually accompanies you to these things, does he not?" Great, just when he was doing better, just when he was starting to forget and began enjoying himself, he was reminded of what would never be again. His heart clenched in his chest and his stomach turned in knots. A lump caught in his throat. He struggled to speak around it, to act like everything was fine.

"He's on the path on his own at the moment. But when I see him again I will be sure to give him your regards," he said with a fake charming smile. Oh he'll send his regards. He'll send them right up Geralt's ass where they belong. He excused himself, going off to find a bathroom. He tried to stop himself, but hot tears flowed from his eyes, and he did what he could to keep his makeup from running. In the end he had to do a quick touch up, but when he returned to sing once more, he looked fresh as a daisy.

~~~~

Months go by, with no possible leads on where Jaskier, or his child surprise, could be. Just songs sung in taverns that he's heard the bard sing too many times before. But oh what he wouldn't give to hear that voice right now.

The bard at the inn he was currently at wasn't terrible, but they just weren't him. He had a voice unlike any other, and though he had never admitted it aloud, he really did like it. Why he never told Jaskier was beyond him. Maybe he thought by distancing himself, he wouldn't get too attached. Maybe at first, he really did hate his singing. Or maybe he was just afraid to acknowledge his own feelings. Witchers didn't really do compliments. After all, most of the affection he showed his brothers was through insults. It's one of the only ways he knows how to show he cares. But Jaskier didn't know that. He probably just thinks he hates everything about him. All because the one time Geralt should've kept his mouth shut, he erupted like a volcano. Hot, angry, and destructive.

The song they sang was one he hadn't heard before, but it sounded undeniably Jaskier. Everything from the chord progression, the range, the tune, the excessive swearing, to the hilariously relatable lyrics, just screamed Jaskier. He didn't need to ask who wrote it. He knew.

Winter was drawing near. It was time to make the yearly trip to the keep. Geralt had hoped that by this time he would've found Jaskier and made up. Wished for him to stay the winter with him and meet his brothers. Oh well. There was always next year he supposed.

The journey was just as harsh and bitter as he remembered it always being. But when he arrived at Kaer Morhen, he had three happy faces waiting for him. After the exchange of bear hugs and hair ruffles, Vesemir left them to chat amongst themselves. He couldn't help but notice that Eskel had been giving him the stink eye ever since he had gotten there. They were currently in a large den area, seated close to a fireplace.

"Okay I'll bite, why the fuck are you glaring at me like I just kicked Lil Bleater?" he asked, none too kindly. Lambert shifted in his seat, settling in for the show. He looked to Eskel, eagerly waiting for his response.

"Hm. I assumed you'd know," Eskel said in an even tone. Lambert's head snapped over to Geralt, ready to hear what he had to say.

"What the hell did I do to you?" he asked. Lambert nodded.

"Yes, please tell. I'm dying to know."

Eskel met Geralt's eyes with harsh judgement. "It's nothing that you did to me." Oh this was positively juicy. And Lambert was eating it up.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" Geralt snapped. Eskel just shook his head.

"Nothing. Just means you blew it."

"Blew what?" he asked. He was tired of beating around the bush. Eskel just shrugged, infuriatingly.

"If you can't figure it out, you're an even bigger idiot than I pegged you for." Okay that was it.

Geralt slammed his fist down on the table. "Damnit I'm sick of your cryptic ass bullshit! What the hell are you talking about?" Eskel's face finally showed a hint of emotion. His scar curled lip quirked up in a smirk that could only mean trouble. And a playful malice danced behind his eyes.

"A little lark told me," he began, noticing how stiff Geralt became. "All about your little mountain breakup." All of a sudden Geralt surged forth, gripping Eskel by the collar and shoved him against the nearest wall. Lambert stood to get a better view of the action.

"You saw Jaskier and didn't tell me?" he growled. Eskel shrugged with a cocky smile.

"I'm telling you now, aren't I? And it's not like he was eager to see you. And from the sounds of it I'm shocked you'd want to see him either. Geralt's eyes widened in shock, his grip loosening ever so slightly. "If life could give me one blessing-"

He smacked a hand over his mouth, slamming his head against the stone just a little harder than necessary. Eskel didn't fight back, only raised his eyebrows. Behind them, Lambert let out a low whistle.

"So you finally fucked up the one good thing in your life? Can't say I'm surprised," he mused. Geralt whipped his head around to look over his shoulder.

"You want to be next?" Lambert held his hands up in mock surrender.

Eskel reached up and slid Geralt's hand from his mouth so he could speak. "He was pretty torn up when I found him." Geralt looked to the ground in shame. "Pissed as all hell, sad fucker too. You really did a number on him." Geralt's eyes were full of regret.

"I should've never said those things to him." He let Eskel go, arms hanging limp at his sides. The heavily scarred witcher crossed his arms.

"Yeah no shit. You really need to do better."

"I know. He was my best friend," he admitted. Eskel's expression softened.

"Why didn't you ever tell him that? He made it sound like you only ever insulted him."

Geralt sighed. "I wasn't as nice as I should've been. Any time I tried I just. Froze and said some stupid shit."

Lambert clapped him on the back. "Oh Geralt, you always do that." A ghost of a smile flashed on his face as he brushed off his hand.

"What was it that made you throw two decades worth of friendship down the drain?" Eskel questioned. Geralt sighed even deeper.

"The dragon hunt was long and tiring. Too many people wanting to kill the dragon, protecting it was harder than I thought. Yen and I fought. I told her about the last wish I made with the djinn and... she didn't take it well. Needless to say we're through. And then- Jaskier was right there and he was talking like he always does, and I. I lashed out. I just felt like hurting someone the way I was just hurt."

Eskel rolled his eyes. "You're a fucking moron. Just because you don't know how the hell to handle your emotions doesn't mean you get to take it out on other people. Especially those who had nothing to do with it."

Geralt wholeheartedly agreed. "I know. I just want him back."

"You better hope you know how to make this right."

"I tried looking for him, but his trail went cold. I need to apologize. I need him to know that I never meant those things, and that he's my friend," he said, sounding defeated. He took a few steps back, collapsing in a chair.

Eskel eyed him, a funny look on his face.

"What?"

"You sure he's only just a friend?"

"Of course he is! What else would he be?" he asked, brows furrowed. Eskel smirked, pacing the room in an aloof sort of way.

"I don't mean to go around telling secrets that aren't mind, but knowing you you'll never figure it out on your own." Geralt growled as Lambert snickered. Eskel cut them both off. "But it seemed like a lot more than just friendship, at least on your bard's end."

Geralt perked up, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait really?"

Lambert nudged him. "Careful, you almost sound excited. Don't tell me my big brother has a crush," he teased, locking him in a headlock. Geralt easily threw him over his shoulder, making him flip over his lap before landing on the hard ground.

"Shut the hell up, this is serious."

"Oooo you do have a crush!" his teasing increased tenfold. He wrapped an arm around his ankle, shaking his leg slightly. Geralt moved so the sole of his boot pressed against his cheek, effectively keeping him pinned.

"Ah! Hey let me up!" Geralt rolled his eyes and lifted his foot, setting him free. He turned his attention to Eskel.

"What makes you think that?"

"Aside from... everything about him?"

"Eskel get to the fucking point!"

"He was broken hearted, easy as that... And he, uh, told me himself," he said, looking away. For some reason he felt a sting of guilt. He wasn't betraying Jaskier, not really, but it felt like something the bard should tell him himself. But on the other hand, Jaskier said to make the clueless bastard feel bad, and he knew if this were a fight, that would be the final blow.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and buried his face behind his hands and let out a low, suffering groan. "He probably never wants to see me again."

"With a face like that, who could blame him?" Lambert joked from his spot on the floor. Eskel kicked him semi gently and shook his head at the youngest wolf. He then turned his attention to Geralt.

"Well don't get me wrong, he was very upset. But it had just happened, so he might've cooled off by now. And even then he was conflicted about whether or not he wanted to see you. I say give it a shot," he encouraged. Geralt rolled his eyes.

"But how will I find him again? I mean, where do I even start?"

"Well he's a bard ain't he?" Lambert said, finally sitting up. "Just follow his songs."

Eskel's face scrunched up in confusion. "The hell does that mean?"

"No, no Lambert has a point. If he's been performing then chances are other bards will be singing his songs in places he's recently been. Then I can follow the trail from there," he said.

"See? I have good ideas!" Lambert stuck his tongue out at Eskel, who rolled his eyes. He reached out and grabbed his tongue, pulling on it. Lambert's eyes bugged out and he made a strangled noise before biting his hand. Eskel recoiled and snarled at him in warning.

Geralt paid them no mind, instead thinking of how he would win back his bard.

~~~~

When the months turned cold, Jaskier tucked his tail and holed up in Oxenfurt. After a life on the road, teaching just wasn't as thrilling as it used to be. He still loved these kids, saw their blooming potential. But he also saw too much of himself reflected in those faces, with their wide hopeful eyes and innocent naïvety. They idolized him. He achieved what so many could only dream of, had seen amazingly horrific beasts and lead a life of wonder and adventure. But that was over. At least he could relive those glory days vicariously through his songs...

Winter came and went. His students were all talented and lovely people, and he earned the title of the fun, hot professor. And while he might would have hooked up with a student or two when he was younger, the thought no longer appealed to him. His heart and mind were elsewhere.

As the snow began to melt, he set off. He had bought a nice and sturdy steed for his journey ahead, being tired of traveling on foot and finally acquiring enough coin for one. Bruno was a beautiful smokey gray with a white mane and tale. He didn't seem to mind his singing or his rants, and offered the occasional neigh in response. Jaskier suddenly understood why Geralt talked to Roach as if she were human.

During his time at Oxenfurt, he was productive and debuted a few new songs. Now as spring fast approached, he was ready to share them with the rest of the world. He was currently in some small village not too far from the academy, a mere pit stop on a long journey.

After performing a particularly successful set, he sat at the bar to wet his whistle in preparation for the rest of the night. He only glanced at the body that sat down next to him, going back to his drink.

"Nice songs, they all yours?"

Jaskier swallowed and nodded. "Yes, I normally only play my songs. They're quite popular and people expect it. But if I get a request by someone else I won't turn it down. Why, you want me to sing something?" he answered, turning to look at him. He was quite handsome if he said so himself.

"No I can never remember the songs or how they go." Jaskier hummed into his glass in lieu of a real answer. "So uh, what was that last one called again?"

"Her Sweet Kiss," Jaskier said, lip curling in saddened amusement.

"Oh yeah, I remember. What's it about?" he tried.

"Just a... an old relationship that didn't quite turn out."

"Sorry to hear that mate. If you don't mind me asking, what happened." Jaskier snorted and shook his head, staring at his reflection in the liquid.

"Let's just say they didn't choose me." The man shifted in his seat.

"I'm Lambert by the way."

"Jaskier, pleased to meet you," though his voice didn't sound all too enthused. Lambert licked his lips.

"My brother's looking for you." Jaskier's head snapped over to look at him. Really look at him. He had a scar over his eye, short brown hair, two scary looking swords strapped to his back, and a wolf medallion hanging on his chest. Another witcher. He didn't know whether to be grateful or disappointed that it wasn't Geralt.

He decided to play dumb. After all, maybe he didn't know. "Eskel?" he asked in feigned confusion.

Lambert rolled his eyes. "No dumb ass. The other one." Jaskier tilted his head.

"I'm sorry, but how do you expect me to know who your brother is when I've only just met you?" he asked. Lambert snorted and folded his arms.

"Well you know Eskel. Geralt was right, you really are a smug lil smart ass."

"That's funny, a second ago I was a dumb ass."

"Hey I'm not afraid to hit you," he threatened.

"Nor am I," Jaskier countered. Lambert wore a shocked half grin, eyebrows raised.

"Huh. Okay then."

"So what, did Geralt send you? Am I too close within his vicinity that I'm fucking up his destiny yet again?" he asked bitterly. Lambert looked him up and down, judging his next words before he spoke.

"No, I found you all on my own thank you very much. Though I bet he'll be pissed that I also found you before he did," he mused. This seemed to peak the bard's interest as he turned to face him. Lambert leaned in to say more. "He's looking for you ya know."

"So you said. Why though?" he asked. Lambert shrugged.

"Wants to apologize I guess. Make things right," he said. Jaskier just looked... lost. Then his face morphed into one of amusement as he doubled over, letting out a stream of shrill, slightly manic laughs.

He wiped away a few tears as he spoke. "The day that man apologizes is the day he dies. He's much too prideful and stupid to do such a thing."

Lambert rolled his eyes. "I know he is, but he also really seems to care about you."

Jaskier snorted. "Funny. Normally when someone cares about you they don't blame you for all their life's problems and tell you to get fucked," he spat out.

"Look, I get he may be a stubborn horse's ass, but he really is sorry."

"Thanks but I'll believe it when I hear it from him. If you'll excuse me I need to get back to work." He pushed off from the bar, walking back to his stool and lute. Lambert leaned back in his seat, allowing himself to listen to the music. As he drank himself into a stupor, tales of heartbreak and anguish washed over him. But there was also a deep seeded sense of longing, a yearning so strong it almost hurt Lambert to listen to. But it was there that he saw a glimmer of hope for his brother to win him back.

~~~~

Things never went as planned. For some reason, destiny liked to fuck with Geralt as much as it possibly could. It seemed as though he was finding everyone except the man he was trying so desperately to find. The first to come to him was his child surprise, who he had also been searching for and had been given the most importance in his mind. Good, one thing crossed off the list. He knew they were bound together, so they would find their way to each other eventually, but with the fall of Cintra he much preferred sooner rather than later.

She was kind, but also had a fierce bite to her personality that reminded Geralt of her grandmother. He could feel the untapped potential of her magic sizzling beneath her skin and sparked under his touch. She was curious and talkative in a way that emphasized the hole that Jaskier had left behind.

And then, much to his chagrin, they met up with Yennefer during the middle of a contract. It would be hard to miss the way she stared at Ciri, with a want so strong and a hint of jealousy that Geralt had been gifted what she could only dream of having. Even with his knowledge of magic, he would need someone with stronger abilities to help train the princess. And as much as he had regretted it, he was now thankful that he had tied his and Yennefer's fates. She seemed to be more forgiving now, but made it obvious that whatever romance might have been blooming was now long dead. He was okay with that. He was just glad to have her back in his life. They were good friends, and as a witcher, that was hard to find.

It was dangerous to travel with Ciri, what with the state of the continent. Nilfgaard was on the prowl for the lion cub of Cintra, and would stop at nothing to try and hunt her down. They were still a long ways from the witcher's keep. Only then would she be truly safe to begin her training properly. They had cut her hair to just below her chin to change her appearance enough so she wasn't instantly recognizable. Geralt gave her a thick black cloak to further hide her face. Her old blue cloak was just as much of a dead giveaway as her hair. But no one paid much mind to a veiled child at the side of a famed witcher.

They knew better than to call her by her name, at least in public. Instead they would call her Ella or Ellie, Yennefer claiming that it suited her. Ciri didn't seem to mind. They had been traveling nonstop for a week and were completely exhausted and starving for a real meal. A bath wouldn't hurt either. They came to the inn in search of some much needed rest for the journey ahead. Warm light spilled from the windows and into the darkness outside, a welcome sight. Music and excited chatter met their ears as they approached, greeting them as Geralt held the door open for them.

Avoiding as much attention as they could, they slipped into a booth in the far corner. Ciri sat on the inner seat near the wall, Geralt's large frame mostly shielding her from view. Yennefer sat across from them.

Geralt was tired and worn, otherwise he would've instantly recognized the voice drifting through the air.

"I'm the hardest goodbye that you'll ever have to say-" the last note drug on and scooped continuously into the next word, earning a couple of impressed cheers.

"You don't know it yet, but I'm the Cupid of things That you just don't get, that you struggled to say." The music continued in the background as a waitress took their orders. Once she moved out of their way, Ciri gasped.

"Oh my gods, that's Jaskier!" she said in excitement. Yennefer calmly turned her head to the side while Geralt whipped around, eyes frantically searching for the bard. There he was, swaying to the music as his fingers plucked and thrummed the strings. "I have to say hi!"

"But like rubbing wine stains into rugs, it's my curse. To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse."

Geralt was about to speak, but Yennefer beat him to it. "Ah ah ah, I don't think that's a good idea," she warned.

Ciri shook her head adamantly. "No, he's a good friend! He played at all of my birthdays and our banquets! Believe me, we can trust him." When they both stared at her dumbfounded, she continued. "I get it if you're a bit star struck, I mean he's the best musician on the whole continent."

Yenn snorted. "Who told you that? Him?" Ciri jumped to his defense, but Geralt was too preoccupied to know what she said. His eyes were glued to Jaskier.

Jaskier's voice was raw with emotion as he sang. Deep and guttural around certain words, sensual and alluring with others.

"I'm the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shunned. All those letters unsent and that garden ungrown. I'm the captain of courage that you've eternally lacked. I'm the Jesus of wishing to Christ he'll come back."

Jaskier looked up at just the right moment, at just the right spot to lock eyes with Geralt. He froze for barely a second. Geralt could hear him swallow thickly before he continued, as though unfazed. His eyes never breaking their gaze.

"Because farewell wanderlust, you've been oh, so kind." His voice was so soft, so tender as he sang the words. Then ramped up in intensity as he continued, finally tearing his eyes away.

"After he finishes this song I'm going to go talk to him," Ciri said with a finality that can't be challenged. Geralt only just now caught up with the conversation.

"No. I will." Yennefer was doing a poor job of hiding her amusement. He shot her a glare. Ciri looked at him with an incredulous look.

"I'm practically like family to him, I get to go first," she left no room to argue. Geralt stared at her in slight shock. "You can wait your turn."

"Hm." He would do as she said, but that didn't mean he was happy about it. But at least it gave him time to gather his thoughts and try to form a proper apology. He looked up to see Jaskier's eyes burn holes through him, an angry bitterness woven into his words.

"I'm the tales that the guests will applaud and believe. I'm the child that you just didn't have time to conceive. I promise you I'm not broken! I promise you there's more! More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door."

Ciri leaned forward in her seat to see better. "This must be a new song. It's kinda sad, I wonder who it's about." Yennefer shot Geralt a knowing, accusatory look. He finished, holding the last note of the song for as long as the chord faded out. Everyone burst into applause, tossing coin his way. He made a beeline for the bar, taking the route farthest from them and maintaining that distance. When Geralt didn't move to let her out, too entranced, Ciri crawled underneath the table and made her way to her old friend.

Jaskier leaned against the bar, his head in one hand, a tankard of ale in another. "Melitele's tits I'm too sober for this," he muttered to himself.

"Jaskier!" Before he could turn around he was bombarded by a small figure and enveloped in a hug.

"Wha- hi hello," he said in confusion, tentatively wrapping his arms around her.

"Jaskier, it's me!" she said, and tilted her hood back to reveal her face to him. His eyes widened and mouth dropped in shock. He smiled down at her, scooping her up in his arms and spun her around.

"Gods I was so worried about you! When I heard about what happened I couldn't stop thinking about you! I'm so glad you're okay," he said, smothering her with love and affection that she soaked up like a sponge.

"Come on, I want you to meet someone," she said, tugging on his arm. He pulled it back reluctantly.

"Ah, I'm afraid I'm not quite ready yet," he said, tossing a nervous glance Geralt's way.

"It's okay, he's nice," Ciri assured him. He chuckled.

"Maybe to you."

"What?"

"Well I really should get back to work. I'll talk more after I'm done, I promise," he called as he made his way back to his instrument. Ciri stood there, dumbfounded as she made her way back to the table.

"That was weird," she said sitting down at the table. Geralt tensed.

"Why? What did he say?" he asked, slightly too eager to be considered normal, especially for him. Ciri looked at him quizzically, picking up on the strangeness of it all.

"Um, well at first he was thrilled to see me, then I mention introducing him to you both and he suddenly starts walking away saying he has to work," she said, trailing off.

"Don't take it personal, like you said, he's very popular. People want to hear him sing," Geralt tried to comfort her in the knowledge. She sighs, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her palm.

"I know but he seemed. I don't know, weird? Off? Definitely not like himself," she noted. Yennefer smirked, and looked Geralt up and down. He tilted his head, furrowing his brows and fixing her with a warning look. He was barely holding back a growl. If she said anything...

"You sure it has nothing to do with how you dumped him on the dragon hunt?" she said slyly, smirking with a dangerously arched brow.

"Yennefer!" he snarled her name. He wanted to move past that, he had apologized to her, now he needed to do the same for Jaskier. And now Ciri was glaring at him with real heat behind her eyes.

"Geralt, what's she talking about?" Despite the fire that burned behind her eyes, her voice sounded ice cold. Okay she was definitely spending too much time with Yennefer.

"Nothing of your concern," he said firmly, glaring daggers at Yennefer for telling. The child had no reason to know.

"It is if you hurt Jaskier!"

"I didn't-" he started only to be interrupted again.

"Not physically," Yennefer said slyly, taking a drink. Geralt sighed in defeat.

"Yes I did, okay? But I regret it, and I need to make it right," he said matter of factly. Ciri's expression softened. She reached out and held his hand.

"It's okay, I'm sure he'll forgive you. But just so you know, he's a sucker for grand gestures," she said with a wink. The tavern had erupted with chatter and song requests. Jaskier seems to have finally settled on one. His fingers worked fast upon his instrument.

"Don't think You're mighty cos I said so. It's fine you've got no time to make it home."

Jaskier's voice was deep and smooth, just like Geralt remembered. He caught Jaskier staring his way before the man turned his gaze away as quickly as he noticed.

"And every question's a creeping doubt. I wanna stop the pain, but I don't wanna freak you out. Oh horror the house is shaking, Take it easy. 1, 2, 3, No worries no, no not from me."

Geralt was entranced. As he listened to him, dozens of memories flashed before his eyes. Visions filled with happiness, laughter, fear, singing, anger, screaming... Some of the best memories Geralt has, especially in recent years, are shared with Jaskier. He longed for those times. He wanted nothing more than to wake to blue eyes and a blinding smile. Jaskier moved to the chorus, still beautiful and slower than some of his other songs, but still peppy and upbeat. Most of the tavern's patrons seem to be affiliated with the tune enough to confidently sing along.

"One life to trade away, No use in keeping much I say. Your heart's not mine to weigh. And I'll have words with fate. This earth is burned but I'll sing rain."

Geralt liked this song. As he sat there listening he wondered how he composed it. How many different words bounced around inside his mind before settling on the right ones? How many scratches and scribbles marked in his notebook? He used to have the privilege of knowing, but had never truly appreciated what he had until it was gone. He would never make such a mistake again.

He sang a few more songs, running on requests and ale. But the hour grew later and more patrons retired to their rooms. Jaskier could only put it off for so long, but as long as one other table was there, he would play. The people that did fill the chairs were getting tired, not as eager to hear loud and upbeat music. When a young man requested he play his song Fair, he faltered.

"Uh, perhaps you'd prefer a different song," he tried, casting a nervous glance in Geralt's direction. The song was not only about him, but Yennefer as well, and he wasn't too keen on playing it with both of them here, let alone one.

"Please? It's my birthday and that's my favorite song," he said, batting his lashes prettily. Jaskier sighed, "Well then, how could I say no to that? C'mere," he gestured with a single finger. His eyes darted towards Geralt's table. He was staring at him intently. Good, he wanted him to see this. Jaskier pulled the man closer by his collar and planted a kiss upon his cheek. In that moment they locked eyes. Geralt's burned with regret and jealousy. Jaskier's were smug and a little scared, with the smallest hint of rage.

"Um Geralt? Your mug's leaking," Ciri pointed out. Geralt immediately let go of his grip, realizing too late he had been clenching his fist a little too tightly around his tankard. He wiped up the spill and called the waitress for another.

The boy was flustered and blushing, touching his cheek with delighted awe as he watched Jaskier play his song.

"She promises to fight them all when it all becomes too much. And he, he curses at the world for Leaving him behind and he's falling out of touch. And she is stronger than he's ever been he knows. And she brushes her hand through His hair, he's got so much fucking hair."

Jaskier is glaring at him, Geralt knows it. He dips his head down, unable to meet the gaze. However, he still feels the heat of his stare burn holes through his back. Ciri watched curiously.

"And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay. And when they're sure no-one can hear them. She'll turn to him to say, she'll turn to him and say-"

Yennefer listened with her head tilted, taking Jaskier in fully. He had been broken, barely hanging on and searching for a new purpose. He had been lost, found, and lost again. The strange fuzzy feeling of magic that had fizzled so faintly within him buzzed with a bit more certainty, even if he wasn't aware of it himself. After all, she hadn't known what lie beneath her skin until Tissaia forced her to unlock her potential.

"It's not fair, It's not fair how much I love you. It's not fair, Cos you make me laugh when I'm actually Really fucking cross at you for something. And he'll say, Oh how oh how unreasonable. How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do. I'll spend my days so close to you cos if I'm Standing here maybe everyone will think I'm alright."

It's funny, she thought. He used to be scared of her, or maybe intimidated was a better word. Threatened. They had been competing for the same thing after all. Well for what it's worth, he can have it.

"I've seen enough he says I know exactly what I want. And it's this life that we've created, Inundated with the fated thought of you. And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all Like petals in a storm, cos darling I was born."

How dare they come to him like this? What are they now, some happy little family? Geralt gave her the child she always wanted, surely she'd never leave him now. He can only imagine the disgustingly amazing sex they probably have when Ciri wonders off. Did they find him so they could rub it in his face, or was it a complete accident? Was this the princess's idea? Did they seek him out for help? So many questions whirled through his head as he finished the song. He figured it was time to get some answers. He bid what was left of his audience goodnight before making his way to the table.

Yennefer wore a judging, knowing look as she watched him come closer. Geralt still looked to be in a state of shock, and, was that jealousy on his face? Jaskier liked to have thought he could read witchers, especially his witcher, extremely well. He had only kissed the boy to distract himself, to show Geralt he was just fine without him. That he could move on. But both Eskel and Lambert had seemed insistent that Geralt was regretful of his actions, so perhaps he did care. He smirked at the thought. He would make this as difficult as he could then. If he really did want him, he'd have to earn him back. Walking towards them with a renewed swagger he hadn't felt in months, he threw his arms open.

"Darling, I'm so sorry about earlier. Let me give you a proper greeting," he said as Ciri barreled into his arms. She tucked her head against his chest, grinning from ear to ear as she squeezed the breath from his lungs. Ah, so she'd been training.

She let him go, suddenly feeling the tension in the air. She faltered for a moment before speaking. "Um, Jaskier this is Yenn. And I uh, I think you know Geralt?" she said with such timidness it was more of a question than a statement. Jaskier put on his fakest smile, the one Geralt knew was fake.

"Why yes love, we do. Geralt, care to explain?" he asked and cocked his head. Geralt huffed out a breath of annoyance, with a possible hint of amusement. Jaskier's heart ached.

"Why don't you sit down first?" he asked and motioned them over with his hand. Before he knew what was happening, Ciri rushed past him and slammed herself in the seat next to Yennefer, thus forcing him to sit next to Geralt. He crossed his arms and popped out his hip.

"I will only sit next to the child," he said sternly. He didn't know what they were calling her now, but he knew better than to use her real name. Geralt rolled his eyes.

"Jaskier don't be ridiculous, sit down," he said. His eye looked almost pleading, his pupils swelled up like a begging cat. It was utterly adorable. He nearly wanted to do what he said. It seemed so tempting... But no. He wouldn't let him win.

He placed his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow, turning his nose up the slightest bit. He even went as far as to look him up and down with a smirk, "Make me."

Before he could think better of it, Geralt reached out and grabbed a hold of his wrist, yanking him down to the seat. Jaskier was caught off guard and stumbled, falling right into Geralt's lap. They both stared, flustered as their eyes met. Ciri snickered from behind her hand, and even Yennefer gave a small chuckle. They both gathered themselves and Jaskier scrambled out of his lap and in the seat next to him. Jaskier still looked a bit dazed. Geralt leaned closer to him. He didn't pull away.

"Made you," he said, and when Jaskier turned to look at him, he looked so damn smug and cocky. That bastard.

Jaskier brushed himself off and cleared his throat. "Okay then. Uh where was I? Oh um-you were just about to tell her how we know each other," he said, clearly flustered. He was looking anywhere but to his right.

"He's my bard. And my best friend." Jaskier's head jerked upon hearing those words.

"Sure as hell didn't show it much," he argued. Geralt sighed heavily.

"I know, and I should've never treated you that way. I'm sorry for the mountain, and the djinn, and only ever letting you ride Roach if you were hurt, and every time I was cruel or harsh with you. I'm more sorry than I've ever been." His words dripped with truth, forged after hours of regret and meditation. These words were carefully formatted and hand picked just for him. If Jaskier had been standing, his knees would've buckled. He let out a strangled squeak. Geralt continued.

"It was wrong then, and it's wrong now, so I, uh, understand if you're still mad." This time it was Jaskier's turn to hum in lieu of words. "But I want you to know you're my best friend and it won't happen again. I promise," he swore. There was so much emotion swirling in those golden irises. Jaskier believed everything he said.

He took a breath to steady himself before he spoke. "Okay. I accept your apology," he said. He didn't dare say more for fear of revealing his hand. Geralt didn't hint at stronger feelings for him than just friendship, so neither would he. He was content with this, had always been content with this. He could still have his witcher and the life on the road that he missed dearly. He just had to bury the burning love in his chest. But he was used to that. What he wasn't used to was Yennefer's unwavering presence. He wasn't looking forward to it. The way she loved to jab and mock him, flaunting her relationship with Geralt in his face. She was always devilishly smart and cunning, much like a raven. They didn't get along well, or perhaps they did. It was almost like a game between them, to see who can ruffle the most feathers.

But the smirk she wore wasn't smug or triumphant like she won something. It was something softer, more akin to fondness, a sort of teasing glimmer in her eyes. She knew something he didn't. That wasn't new. Geralt was avoiding his direct gaze. He was tired of the stretching silence and spoke.

"I'm assuming it's an accident that you happened upon me. Or was it intentional?" he ventured to ask. Geralt blinked.

"Yes and no? I mean, I was looking for you, but I didn't expect to find you here. We're on our way to the Keep," he explained. Jaskier leaned back in the booth, an amused, surprised expression on his face. His arms were folded over his chest and his lips quirked up in a smirk.

"Huh, he wasn't lying." Geralt narrowed his eyes.

"Who?"

"Lambert. He said you were looking for me. Didn't believe him at the time, but I guess he proved me wrong," he said, chuckling. Geralt's jaw dropped as he stared at him. Ciri giggled and Yennefer watched on in amusement.

"Lam- fucking Lambert found you before I did? How long ago was this?" he asked. Now Jaskier was the one squinting at him.

"Only a few months, maybe three at the most." His smirk grew.

"Damnit, how many witchers have you met since I saw you?" Geralt wasn't the best at expressing his emotions, they all knew that, but he was even worse at hiding them when they fought to rise up. Geralt was jealous and Jaskier was drinking it up.

"Ah, so I suppose Eskel had his little chat with you." His eyes sparkled with mischief as he turned to look at Geralt. He could feel the heat radiating from his body, his nostrils flared out. He looked utterly delicious. Jaskier slipped on a charming smile. "Good. You know, I think he was my favorite. Charming, nice, and extremely handsome-"

"Jaskier, can I talk with you?" he cut him off, voice a deep growl. A pleasant chill ran up his spine. Oh he liked jealous Geralt.

"You already are darling," he said, voice sugary sweet. He's gotten underneath his skin already. That didn't take long. Geralt rolled his eyes.

"I meant somewhere private." He stared at him, hoping he wouldn't have to explain himself. Jaskier made an O with his mouth and slid from his seat, allowing Geralt to follow him. The larger man lead him outside and around the corner of the tavern, close to the stables.

"Oh is Roach here? I've missed her terribly, you wouldn't believe-" Before he knew what was going on, he was slammed against the wall with Geralt's body pressed against his. He promptly shut up, a blush creeping up his cheeks.

"W-well I certainly can't say I haven't imagined this," he breathed out in an airy chuckle.

"Come with us," Geralt said.

Jaskier was shocked to say the least. "What?"

"Come with us. To Kaer Morhen. Ciri likes you, and right now we need to keep her safe. A-and you're a professor, and you're smart- she's gonna need a teacher." Jaskier deflated.

"Is that all?" he asked, trying to mask the disappointment in his voice.

"No." Jaskier jerked his head to look at him. Geralt moved his arm from where it was leaning against the wall to caress Jaskier's cheek. He shivered. "I want you to come with us. I missed you Jaskier. And I know I'm not- I'm not good with this. Emotions, and talking about what I want. But I'm trying and-" he looked at him, pupils wide and eyes pleading. "I want you."

"Fuck Geralt, you don't know how long I've wanted to hear that." Geralt surged forth, planting a surprisingly sweet kiss against Jaskier's lips. Jaskier pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. He didn't want to be able to breathe, he was hungry for this and wouldn't waste another second. Their teeth clanged and clashed as their tongues danced together as one. When Jaskier was satisfyingly breathless, they pulled apart, still held in each other's embrace.

"I want you too." These words sparked another passionate make out. Then Jaskier pulled away, remembering, "Wait, but I thought- you and Yenn-"

"Just friends." Jaskier couldn't help the smile that broke out on his face. He grew himself at Geralt, who easily caught him. He wrapped his legs around his waist, carding his fingers through his hair. He surged forth and caught his lips in another kiss. Geralt spoke around his lips.

"I don't have to worry about you and Eskel, do I?" Jaskier chuckled.

"I like it when you're possessive," he said, thrusting his hips forward. Geralt growled as he dove in for another heated kiss. And just like that, Jaskier's torn heart began to mend.

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