The Wild Hunt was coming, they were racing to seize Geralt and Ciri, and with each passing day their net got tighter. Naturally there was a lot of bickering about what to do next. Oddly though, it wasn't Geralt or Ciri getting into fights. It was Jaskier and Cahir.
"Look, you overgrown lizard, Vicovaro is safer!" Cahir spat as he huddled close to the camp fire. Something about being from Vicovaro meant he felt the cold more keenly. Some days Geralt was convinced he was going to wake to find Cahir had managed to huddle in the embers of the fire.
The only one who was likely to ever fight Cahir for a place in the remains of the fire was Jaskier, who was snapping and snarling. "Safer? Nothing is safe from the Wild Hunt! Lettenhove and Oxenfurt both offer resources beyond what a backwater swap like Vicovaro can offer. Safer my ass, bird brain."
It had been going on like that for long enough that Geralt and Ciri were exchanging more and more exasperated looks. In the end Geralt snapped.
"Nice you both think you have a say in where we go. Ciri and I are going to Kaer Morhen."
The squawking and hissing of exclamations was a bit discordant and Geralt winced. There was something about it being certain death there and dooming them all to a miserable, cold end to existence.
"At least you'll get to see the others, feathers." Jaskier muttered to Cahir.
"And you'll have your nest."
Sometimes Geralt wondered just what language those two spoke. The words were in Common but it sure as shit made zero sense. The trudge up to Kaer Morhen was cold. Winter was chasing their heels, made all the colder by the worry that the Wild Hunt was just behind them. It wasn't the warm welcome of getting home. Their bedraggled little group stumbled through the doors, worry etched on their faces. The others were around them in a heartbeat, greeting them and fussing.
There wasn't much time to plan. The temperature dropped and they all slept with their weapons and armour to hand and easy to sling on. Such preparedness was proven to be necessary. As the first rays of the sun crested the treetops, the horn of the Wild Hunt woke them. Despite knowing it was coming, firm in the fact that it was inevitable, that nobody outran the Wild Hunt, it was still a shock that they had finally arrived.
Armed to the teeth, they marched out of the keep, well aware that this was possibly the last time some of them did so. Nobody went up against the Wild Hunt and won. But they were going to try.
Battles were never long, especially not when it was such a small group fighting. Winning was never really a probable outcome. Despite their skills, their endurance, their mutations and determination, fatigue set in. It was difficult to keep an eye on each other, mostly hearing the grunts, the sharp cry as a hit went through and something hurt. Vesemir was cornered, outnumbered and overwhelmed with the others too far away to help until a cry of "regroup!" rang out. The army term had to come from Cahir and Geralt managed to drag an injured Vesemir away. They formed a circle around him, swords raised. Except the Wild Hunt showed no mercy, they waited for no man and they advanced.
"Fuck this," Cahir growled and his sword clattered to the ground. The next moment he was pulling his shirt over his head and shoving it at Lambert. "Keep it safe for me, I actually like that shirt. Quens at the ready. Scales, you know your job."
With that, Cahir charged. The others were helpless to watch was arrows thudded into Cahir's body but he pushed out through sheer force of will, slamming into the middle of the Wild Hunt. A sword glinted in the early morning light as the sun finally appeared over the trees, casting everything in a golden glow. The sword fell, skewered Cahir with unerring accuracy.
"Quen!" Jaskier screamed as the world exploded in light and heat. It lasted way too long, the quens trembled under the force of the fiery blast, even as something else was wrapped around the group to keep them safe.
There was silence.
Once by one, the group dropped their guard and watched as leathery wings opened up to reveal a charred and smoking patch where the Wild Hunt and Cahir had been. In the centre of it was a pile of ash in a lump.
"What the fuck?" Eskel was the first to speak, watching as a dragon lumbered from their group towards the pile of glowing ash.
"Jaskier?" The fact Geralt's voice broke over the name spoke volumes about his general state.
Looking over his shoulder, Jaskier let out a smoky snort. "Don't you Jaskier me, young man."
That seemed to break the tension and Lambert burst out laughing, soon joined by the others until they were all but crying. Curiously, Jaskier curled up around the ash pile, rumbling deep in his chest and blowing a small mouthful of fire at it. Some of the ash cleared to show a black mound lined by gold. Almost like an-
"Is that an egg?" Eskel stepped closer and was growled at by Jaskier until he hastily backed up.
"Unfortunately." Another burst of fire and the egg quivered.
Almost horrified, the group watched it crack, a fragment of shell falling into the nest of ash to reveal a beak. From the back Vesemir let out a groan.
"A fucking phoenix, right?"
The hum of agreement from Jaskier brought forth another medley of disbelief and outcries.
"I never wanted to be responsible for one," he rumbled darkly. "I'm not the nesting kind."
"Wait," Lambert clutched at Eskel's arm as he peered at the hatching egg. "What are you saying?"
The world's ugliest hatchling stuck its head out and screeched at Jaskier who rolled his eyes. "You watch that filthy mouth of yours. This is your doing, not mine."
"Please tell me that's not Cahir," Eskel whispered, eyes glued to the chick in horror.
Far too cheery, Jaskier nodded his huge head. "Yep. That's your boyfriend. You'd better build a nice warm fire to keep him in because I am not babysitting for you."
At the confused sound caught in Eskel's throat Vesemir finally took pity. "Dragons are nannies to phoenix families. They're one of the few creatures capable and willing to keep a chick safe while the parents do their thing."
"Don't worry," Jaskier cut in. "He'll remember how to shift in a week or two. You'll have your boyfriend back."
The soft, wet "oh thank fuck" from Eskel was buried in Lambert's neck. Much more gently, Jaskier added.
"It's over. He took care of the Wild Hunt. You're safe now."
It’s set in the same verse as A Million Pieces (tumblr) and chronologically after A Million Pieces (ao3)
2.0k of Modern Trisskel (gardener and baker)
with the supporting role of Geralt,, Jaskier, Lambert, Aiden, Yennefer, Tissaia, and a lil cameo of my oc college bois Keilan Shelanmere, Anton Rambova, and Harvey Emerson.
💚
Triss smiled up to Heiðrún’s sunlight-bathed front, opened the door with a small jingle that never got old, and walked through with Geralt behind her, a confident stride carrying her through the length of the small shop with grace.
Geralt’s face was set in a smirk, having been a part of the plan that Triss, Yennefer, and Jaskier had enthusiastically planned a few days before. He was glad he already had his plans, even if he would be preoccupied for a couple hours. All of them, and he means all of their mash of friends and significant others, had agreed that Eskel deserved to be treated nicely (and maybe he might get the hint on today of all days).
Triss’ face was set with a wide smile, her eyes alight and determined. She was dressed the slightest bit down, soft brown cargo pants cinched at the waist and ankles, a slight gold chain hanging on one side by the insistence of Yennefer, and a deep wine-colored button up tucked into it, her curly hair loose around her shoulders, and her grandmother’s gold leaf-shaped pendant hanging delicately around her neck.
There was no line to the counter, and Eskel was in the back, with Keilan managing the cash register with their after-lunch rush out the door a couple hours ago. Keilan got what was happening right away, so they smirked, giving them both a warm greeting and needlessly waving them through the swinging doors, where they could see the broad man leaning over what smelled like orange scones (Jaskier’s favorite), some strawberry-rhubarb galettes, and the jalapeno-and-tomato pizza that Triss loved in small quantities. The tomato sauce most often came from Eskel’s now thriving tomato plant, Reese. Reese had been transplanted to the roof after it took over his apartment kitchen a couple years back.
Keilan pulled out their phone and dialed, a soft smile forming on their face.
Geralt knew the scones were, in fact, for Jaskier- Geralt had asked for Eskel to make them in exchange for watching the shop while he ran the galettes over to the Exley’s, who were in the next town over but had called in early enough for Eskel to bend to the extra catering request. They were frequent customers anyway, and Eskel had the deserts in the oven after the orange scones within the hour.
The pizza was for Triss; she had asked a few days ago as their plan was forming. She, unbeknownst to Eskel, had made a walnut-and-feta orzo salad to accompany it, and Tissaia had given them fancy wine from her fucking wine cellar, the rich bitch she was. Not that Triss would ever say or think that in her or Yen’s vicinity; those two were terrifying apart, but together they could make you feel like your bloodline was cursed if they wanted to.
And Triss liked having an uncursed bloodline and Yennefer as a friend. So Triss was grateful and accepted like she had a choice.
Said expensive and aged wine was in her car, in a hand-woven basket from her neighbor, Matt, nestled in with the salad, a few pears, a new red hydro flask, and a thick blanket. She smiled as Keilan started teasing through the phone, their face lighting up and getting lost in the conversation before she got to the counter.
Geralt went through the swinging door, making Eskel look up, but Triss stopped at Keilan, who had winked in affirmation before setting their phone down and striking up an idle conversation about school, their other jobs, and their prospective boyfriends. They may have blushed at the last topic, but to the untrained eye, you couldn’t see it on their skin tone. Triss had definitely seen it.
Eskel, still in his kitchen, had steadily and immediately reminded Geralt to wash his hands before finishing up the packaging for Geralt’s scones and the galettes. Even if he was going to be in and out, the kitchen’s newest addition obediently made his way over to the sink out of habit- he had seen what happened when Lambert had tried to stay longer than a minute without washing his hands, and he didn’t want to live it himself. Geralt had grown up with a healthy dose of fear for Eskel’s glare, and was barely able to stand still in the face of it, let alone that. Geralt shivered at the memory.
When the younger was done, Eskel handed his brother the two packages, one clearly wrapped for a customer, and the other more toned down, but not any less neat and perfect. For family.
Geralt thanked Eskel, before telling him he had a guest at the counter, making the elder man scrunch his eyebrows at his brother’s back before Triss’ head popped up in the view of the door’s window. Her easy smile immediately brightened, a strong hand coming up to wave at him, her gaze lingering as he stared back and mechanically waved. Why was she-?
Geralt popped his head back in, disrupting his deepening thoughts and the creep of his brows. “You’re going to want to dust off the flour and bring the pizza,” he said, an impish smirk that damn near perfectly mirrored one of Jaskier’s on his face.
So Eskel looked down, where only the slightest bit of flour was resting on his apron where he had leaned over the table before clearing it off after stretching the pizza dough. He had been in a kitchen for a long time; flour didn’t much get on him unless he was refilling the ingredient tubs, trying something new, or teaching someone. Eskel rolled his eyes, taking off his apron and gloves, dropping the thin plastic into the bin, and hanging the apron before washing his hands and making a sharp assessing sweep over the state of his mostly open-spaced kitchen.
All the metal counters, sans maybe the one he was just at, had been wiped twice-over with the sani-bucket solution, and the ingredients were stored for the evening - they didn’t get many people on a Tuesday, and even less so on Valentine’s Day evening, so the stock they had should be enough. The shelves needed to be wiped down and the floor swept and the pea-traps cleaned, so Keilan would have to do that while he ran out, Geralt watching the front; food should be good, and so should the drinks if Geralt didn’t drink it. Check, check, and check.
He sighed, the lunch rush leaving his lungs in a puff of air as he went lax for a few moments, redoing his ponytail out of habit more than necessity. Eskel took these moments of quiet and simple peace with open arms and closed eyes. The hum from the walk-in was a heavy thrum sitting in the back of his mind, and the soft murmur from his customers and- guest.
Eskel straightened, his mind snapping between chef and what Lambert called “civilian”. He walked to the employee room, changing his clogs for worn boots and shucking off his double-breasted coat before gathering his things for the day. The Exley’s were his last stop before a hot bath in his apartment and a small dinner with Lambert and Aiden, who he didn’t expect to stay long at all. Eskel was going to make sure they didn’t get undressed past their jackets anywhere in his apartment - Yennefer and Tissaia had, once, and he almost rammed his head into a wall or screamed into Alex, the particularly large cactus on a windowsill. He wondered what Triss was doing today and why she was at his shop. Not that he was complaining, at all, but there was an inherent confusion (and flutter of giddiness).
He stepped out of the kitchen, to find Anton giving Keilan a mindless kiss on the forehead across the counter, before jingling a few keys on a lanyard Eskel now (unfortunately, in his eyes) knew depicted a character named Miku (or something) and heading out the door with the decorative box in a sturdy hand.
Eskel knew Anton, knew he worked in hospitality if he wasn’t hopping around every restaurant in the county, and that he was actually well off in any kitchen because of it, despite his deceivingly wry form. He might even say he trusted him to deliver the box to a valued customer, but it also seemed it was out of his hands entirely, which was cause for confusion.
He set down the pizza’s container, turning to Geralt, who was already sipping from a washed-out red mug with a completely at ease expression despite knowingly drinking what Eskel would sell to paying people. Eskel leveled him with a withering glare, question forgotten, causing Geralt to slowly lower his cup, actively trying to avoid violence when he had someone waiting for him in a couple hours, and Keilan and Triss to hide their laughs. A few of the regular students were trying not to snigger too loudly, and others were fawning over the way the lowering afternoon sun was bathing both broad men very clearly. Triss would have been a part of the latter group if she weren’t so close and staring into Eskel’s molten amber eyes instead.
Geralt put his hands up defensively before pointing an arm at Triss, who was leaning a bit too far for casualty, her mouth slightly agape before Eskel turned to her, his glare slipping into a warm smile. Geralt let loose a soundless sigh, and Keilan excused themselves to the back, waving to the trio and only getting a response from Geralt. Triss didn’t say anything for a moment, and neither did Eskel, the two of them gazing at each other. The cartoon hearts were almost visible.
Someone from the corner coughed suddenly, the noise making the two of them to snap out of their daze. Triss spoke first, a chipper tone coloring her voice, “Do you have a Valentine?”
Eskel spluttered, a large hand moving to a bracelet on his wrist to twiddle with the wooden beads before he looked down and up at her a few times, his thoughts halting through a response. “Uhm. uh. No, not-,” he swallowed, “no, not yet?” His eyes latch onto the smile she gives him and he breathes a little easier, his fingers slowing its fidgeting.
“Great! You can be mine, then, yeah?”
“Wait- what-” is all Eskel can stammer out before she’s around the counter, her smile wider than ever. He finds himself reciprocating through his confusion.
Triss was safe. Triss he trusted and would walk to the ends of the earth for, even if he didn’t say it. (He didn’t have to)
She looks down for a second, slipping her hand into his bracelet hand, his other fingers slowly slipping off to grab the food container again. Once Triss looked up, her calloused fingers firmly entwined with his, she smiled the same blinding smile before scrunching her nose a bit and winking.
Eskel almost keeled over from her adorable scrunched face and subsequent wink; she was grounding him with her touch and yet seeming to want to make his head spin. She turned to Geralt, giving him a glare that was almost up to par with the one Eskel had given him.
“Make sure Keilan and Anton walk out of here together and before 7, okay, Geralt? Maybe even with that redhead, Harvey, if you can convince Keilan to face-call him. They all deserve a first date too.” Geralt nodded, his hands pointedly away from the cup he had been glared out of drinking from.
“Wonderful,” she turned behind her, shouting, ”Bye Keilan! Have fun on your date!” When she heard a heavy sigh from them she smiled, checking her watch.
“Let’s go, Eskel, we should get going before it gets dark. Dinner at Yennefer’s is at 8, so that should give us a couple hours to walk around the park and eat the pizza you made, right?” She was gently leading him towards the door, oblivious to the sighs and longing looks a few of the more relaxed customers were giving them as she led him out, a soft jingle floating through the air as the door closed.
Eskel looked toward Triss, his mind catching up with the “They deserve a first date too.” His cheeks might have colored, but it could have been the orange-yellow light bathing the low-rise buildings .
He gripped her hand a little tighter, causing her to look back at him with a head tilt, her hair backdropped by the setting sun. She squeezed back, grabbing the pizza container before letting go slowly to get into the driver’s seat.
Eskel sighed, the rest of the day’s tension already starting to slip through his fingers, and he closed his eyes on the way to the park, his eyelids fluttering open once in a while to smile dopily at Triss.
Well- okay. This is nice.
~
Pau
thank you for reading!! leave a comment, like, or reblog! 💚💚
fuck it witcher au where miles is geralt and has long silver hair and phoenix is jaskier the extremely gay bard who has to remind miles to sleep and be nice
