Imagine if Jaskier could talk to horses. If the horses he talked with actually understood him and were able to reply.
It sounds impossible. Jaskier would love to be able to explain it, to be able to make sense of it, but it’s a rather taboo topic in the family. Apparently a great-great-something made some sort of magical deal to allow for his family to better train the war horses their estate was known for breeding. Obviously the specifics weren’t hammered out clearly enough, and, well, no noble family can be thought of as able to associate with an animal. That’s no better than being animals themselves!
So Jaskier is kept far away from all manner of horses as a child, and doesn’t really interact much with them, until Roach.
Jaskier gets really excited at first, when he sees Geralt whispering to her, thinking maybe he can talk to them too? Maybe it’s a mutation? But, no, because Geralt clearly doesn’t understand that his mare is quite sick of green apples and would like a red one instead next time, please, would some variety kill him? Obviously the witcher doesn’t understand that concept for himself, hence his clothes, but she has needs—
And Jaskier snorts, isn’t able to help himself, really, although he acts appropriately sheepish when the witcher turns to glare at him. But the knowing look Roaxh gives him, smart thing she is, speaks volumes.
From then on, it’s not uncommon for the bard to be found talking with Roach, who it turns out is a much better conversationalist than her owner. The witcher does not like this development any more than he likes the bard following him, but apparently Roach has decided the young man is here to stay. Meaning the horse refuses to leave a city or town without the bard, and also is suddenly incapable of more than a brisk walk despite the Witcher’s insistence on pushing her to a gallop.
The witcher grumbles about the behavior for weeks, completely missing the looks that Roach and Jaskier share, the duo suitably entertained. Honestly, for the first few years, it is the sassy Roach Jaskier is following, not the witcher. What can he say, he enjoys the insightful conversations he has with her when the witcher isn’t around, the details she’s able to provide from the hunts the witcher refuses to take him on still.
(The look on Geralt’s face when he introduces a song based on the witcher’s last fight with a Leshen is priceless. The man’s jaw just about hits the table with the vast amount of detail provided, which Geralt had purposefully withheld in the hopes it would finally make the bard take the hint.
Jaskier almost plays the wrong chord when he spots the look, and again when he turns back to see the witcher scowling in confusion down at his ale some time later.
Roach will definitely be getting sugar cubes tomorrow. She’s earned them.)
But the witcher does grow on him. Eventually. He does make for an excellent muse, and he can be…well, kind, for lack of a better word, when he’s not too busy impersonating a gargoyle. Honestly, if he just put a bit more effort in—
So when Jaskier parts with the witcher eight years into their…acquaintanceship? for the winter, and finds him in spring with a new, younger Roach, he sticks around. Eventually he finds out the original Roach was killed by a kikimora, that she didn’t survive the encounter. And Jaskier doesn’t care if Geralt insists on calling this horse Roach too, doesn’t care if the emotionally constipated dung beetle of a man can’t possibly understand why such a thing would upset him. It’s not as if it was his horse, not as if it was a person, which is—he can’t—
It is only Jaskier’s knowledge that Geralt truly did care for Roach, in his own hidden way, that keeps the bard from lashing out. That, and the fact that this new horse agrees to go by Sally (short for Salmon, of course—Jaskier can respect the theme), after the sad tale of her predecessor is told.
Geralt has no clue how the bard does it. But after three weeks of trying to train the horse to answer to Roach, he eventually gives up. It seems this horse loves Jaskier just as much as his last one did, and that once again, he’s stuck listening to the bard prattle both at him and his steed.
Sally is sweeter than Roach was, a little softer around the edges. She is quick to lie down next to Jaskier on cold nights, and appreciates the flowers he likes to braid into her mane. It’s not the same as with Roach, but that’s partly because he isn’t the same, either. He doesn’t need Sally to remind him which berries are poisonous, or to check the lakes he swims in for Drowners. He’s not the same bushy-tailed bard he was when he first joined Geralt all those years ago, for better and for worse.
He and Sally do have a blast together though, and she is very accommodating with his plans when she hears what horrible words the witcher yelled at him on the mountain. It turns out that while she was sweeter than Roach, she was also, perhaps, a bit more…vindictive, for lack of a better word.
Which Jaskier only realizes when Geralt shows up at the tavern he’s playing at three weeks after he’d climbed down the mountain, looking like he’s been tossed into every single mud pile between there and here. Maybe repeatedly, honestly, how did he get mud so far in his ears—
And so it is that one rather stunted, but genuine apology finds him back with his favorite horse and witcher. Life is back to normal, mostly…kind of…sort of…not really at all, okay—
Jaskier still isn’t sure how he ends up stuck at Kaer Morhen, surrounded by witchers who look at him like he’s a slab of rotten meat. Honestly, it’s not like he asked to be here! It’s not his fault he got dragged into this mess, all because he chose to associate with Geralt.
That being said, he’s happy to pitch in where he can, and soon finds himself mucking out the stables and feeding the animals every day. And the way the others still won’t talk with him after he’s been nothing but pleasant for the last two weeks should bother him. Well, okay, it still does, but he finds that annoyance pales in comparison to the delight of hearing stories from Scorpion and Lambert’s horse (which he never gave a name, seriously, how rude). Honestly, the gossip is better than anything he’s heard from the dozens of banquets he’s played at, which is saying something!
So while Jaskier is pissed off at the treatment he’s been receiving, especially with the passive aggressive remarks from a certain loud-mouthed wolf witcher, it’s fine. He’s fine. He’s not bothered at all by the fact that Geralt has been ignoring him, too, in favor of spending time with Ciri and Yennefer. And he doesn’t need the witcher to stand up for him, or ask his brother to stop, Jaskier is a bard. Words are his weapon of choice.
Except, he really doesn’t want to piss anyone off. Winter has fully set in, and he knows the likelihood of him surviving the trek back down the mountain is slim, if they do kick him out.
But there’s only so many times Jaskier can handle being told how useless his profession is, how useless he is, before he decides enough is enough. It’s not like Geralt would actually let them hurt him (he thinks…hopes?), and worst comes to worst, he knows all of the lovely horses will avenge him. And, most likely, try to guide him down the path, sweet things they are.
So when Lambert asks him again exactly why Geralt keeps him around, the bard tilts his head and smiles.
“Oh, you know, I’m good at keeping away the…well, vermin, quite frankly. I’m like a cat, keeping away all those pesky people that don’t take well to anything they see as other.”
Jaskier’s smile turns to something downright feral.
“Cats are great, aren’t they? I once knew one with black fur and bright, yellow-green eyes. He was a bit of a fighter, had scars here and here—” Jaskier gestures on his face where Lambert’s horse had mentioned the cat witcher was marked, watching in satisfaction as the wolf’s eyes widen in shock.
“But oh!” Jaskier shakes his head in faux disappointment. “I forgot. Witchers and cats don’t really mesh well, especially wolf witchers. That’s my bad.”
And—okay, was riling up the hot-headed witcher Jaskier’s best idea to date? No, not really. Did he expect to get some sort of reaction from the man? Well, yes, hopefully. Did he anticipate the man lunging across the table to fist the bard’s shirt, practically foaming at the mouth? Can’t say he did, honestly, the temper on this one—
Although the rough handling was definitely worth it for the way Vesemir tore the young witcher a new one, furious at him for flying off the handle at what was seemingly a harmless mistake.
The way Lambert’s shoulders slumped as he was scolded in front of the whole table almost made Jaskier cackle.
And yeah, was it wrong for Jaskier to put Lambert’s secret at risk like that? Maybe. Did the man have it coming after how he’d been treating the bard ever since he’d met Jaskier? Most definitely.
Still, Jaskier didn’t want the man to actually think he would out the other like that, so he forced himself to relax when the witcher sought him out later while he was brushing down the horses. It certainly wasn’t easy though, not with the scowl the other man had as soon as he entered the stables.
“Look, your secret’s safe with me, okay? I’m not in the habit of making witchers’ lives any harder than they already are.” He says, giving Sally one final brush before moving on to Lambert’s horse after a kiss to her forehead.
Lambert grunts, marching over to Jaskier and ripping the brush from his hand. He moves to shove the bard away from his horse, only to find himself suddenly on the ground.
He gapes, glancing between the bard and horse, both of which seem to be laughing. What the—
“You should treat your horse better. Also, give her a name—she deserves one, having to lug your butt all around the continent, not to mention all those disgusting monster heads.” Jaskier shivers, nose scrunching up in disgust.
“She doesn’t—how do you know she doesn’t have a name?” Lambert asks, squinting at the bard as he stood up.
And, well—Jaskier wasn’t exactly a noble anymore, was he? Not in any way that mattered in terms of reputation. Plus, maybe this could be fun. He got the feeling that he and the other witcher could have a blast, if Lambert wasn’t so insistent on verbally lashing out at the bard.
“A secret for a secret?” He proposes, studying the witcher’s reaction closely.
Lambert frowns, and for a moment, he thought the other would just storm away. Which would be…fine. Jaskier didn’t need to talk to a human for the next two months. He would cope, somehow. He just really, really didn’t want to—
“Fine. But if it puts anyone here in danger, the agreement’s off.”
Jaskier blinks, a bit surprised at the man’s simple terms, then nods.
“The horses are really fun to gossip with.”
Lambert stares at the bard. Looks at his horse. Then back at the bard.
“Please don’t make me talk about what happened in Toussaint last summer. I will, if you need proof, but for both our sakes—”
“No, that’s—no.” Lambert gives his horse a betrayed look, but she she just shakes her mane with a whinny, clearly unbothered.
“I mean, it could be worse. It’s nothing compared to what Roach and Sally have told me over the years.”
It takes a moment for Lambert to process the words, but when he does, the grin he gives Jaskier is all teeth.
Jaskier matches it easily.
“Now, don’t you see the merit in having a bard?”
Lambert leans against the stable wall, crossing his arms.
“I’m certainly starting to see the appeal.”
(Geralt lasted two days before he broke, practically commanding Jaskier to stop spending time with Lambert. The bard and younger witcher looked at each other, before continuing to sing about the time Geralt had mistaken the town elder for a ghoul and been chased away by the half-blind woman swinging her cane wildly.
The witcher wasn’t sure if he was more frustrated or confused, because Jaskier wasn’t even there for that!
He didn’t think…?
Either way, he was starting to realize that if he left Jaskier to his own devices, he would be stealing his brother next. Or Lambert would be stealing his bard.
Geralt growled as he yanked Jaskier away from his brother, muttering something about Ciri needing him as Lambert cackled at his retreat.
He was just worried what might happen with Sally if Jaskier did leave with Lambert. That’s all.
…maybe if he just stashed Jaskier in his room for the rest of the winter—)
