Chapter Text
Geralt sat in shock as Jaskier stood in front of the room full of Witcher’s, terror wrapping itself around him in a heady horrific scent. Jaskier’s blue eyes were blown wide as he looked around the room and tears filled his eyes as his fingers hovered blindly on the strings of the lute he held in his hands. Geralt stood up, moving from his seat at the head of the high table, going to place a hand on the bard’s shoulder only for Jaskier to shrink back. Fear laced in Jaskier’s scent as he flinched from Geralt, hands trembling so hard the lute fell from his fingers.
Jaskier shook his head once. Twice. Eyes roaming over the room full of Witcher’s before bolting from the room.
……
The day Julian Alfred Pankratz Viscount de Lettenhove presented as an Omega, his life was over. He was 14, and his life was over. When he presented, in front of a room full of nobles and family, as dictated his position as the only son of the Viscount de Lettenhove, Julian had felt undulated fear like he had never felt in his entire life.
His Mother had sobbed, refusing to even look at Julian as his Father walked up to Julian, grabbing his arm roughly and shoving him to the floor. Nobles around him said nothing as a collar was fastened around Julian’s neck, roughly and tightly enough for Julian’s breathing to stutter. He couldn’t understand what was happening, why the nobles around him were looking at him in disgust. Why his beta Mother wouldn’t look at him. Why his Father looked like he was ready to murder his own son.
He found out quickly enough. His Father moved him from his own rooms, the rooms he’d had since he was a child, locking him into a set of rooms at the top of their home. There were no windows. No one came to see him. Julian was only allowed out for meals.
Julian knew he was a disappointment to his Father before he presented, but now his Father said it every second he could. Because now he was more than a disappointment. He was useless. He was nothing to anyone. Because Omega’s only had one purpose, and that was to reproduce. Julian would never hold titles. He would never have the freedom to do what he wanted to. He would never be a bard. Omega’s were second class citizens compared to the rest of the world. They were the last to eat, expected to wait until alpha’s and betas ate first. Julian found himself more and more often going without food as the alpha’s and betas of his Father’s court forgot he was there. Forgot the Omega had to eat as well.
Julian didn’t expect the cruelty his Father now exhibited towards him. He had been hit before, being an adventurous child who rarely did what he was told Julian expected it. But now, his Father wouldn’t just hit him.
The night he presented, his Father dragged him to his new room, locking the door behind him. He’d stood in front of Julian, rage coursing from the alpha. The whip that struck across Julian’s back had left him weeping for hours afterwards. Julian had led a sheltered life until that point but now he understood. He understood what cruelty was. His Father made sure of it.
Julian’s first heat after presenting was excruciating. No one would tell him what it was. Why it was happening. But it was bearable. It was bearable because Jaskier was locked in his room alone for the 3 days his heat drove through him, crippling him into complete and utter helplessness.
His next heat was worse, and they only got more and more unbearable. His Father sent someone to his room on his second heat. An alpha. Julian thinks he was a nobleman a friend of his Fathers. Afterwards, Julian had laid bleeding and shivering from pain as the alpha left him. Julian lay in the bloodied sticky blankets of the bedding. Sobbing helplessly.
When his Father found him, he’d smirked. Grabbing Julian’s chin roughly, he spat in his son’s face in disgust. “Clean this mess up.” The Viscount de Lettenhove grunted, shoving Julian’s face away. Later that day a mage visited Julian. Julian, still naïve even then, presumed it was to heal his injuries. He was wrong. Of course. It wasn’t to heal his injuries. Well, only to heal one. The one that proved he was still a virgin.
This happened every heat. Once. Only once. Julian became pregnant. When his Father found out, nearly a month later, Julian was beaten the worst he’d ever been. The pain had been unbearable. But none so more than the blood that ran down Julian’s thigs as something dispelled itself from Julian’s body. A life taken, before it had even had the chance to live.
2 years after presenting, his Father returned with a nobleman. One that Julian remembered. From one of his heats. The man had leered at Julian, hands groping under the table from where he sat next to Julian. He was to marry Julian. Julian didn’t even know the alpha’s name. No one bothered to tell him. Just told him he would marry the blonde-haired alpha the next day.
That night Julian ran. All the pain, the suffering. Everything. It was too much. Julian wasn’t a fool. He knew an un-mated omega wouldn’t last 5 minutes on the road. But he didn’t care. Anything was better than staying here. To be sold like cattle by his own fucking family.
He was lucky, really. The night before his wedding day, the alpha he was too marry came to his bedchambers. When he was done, he’d left the room without a word. Julian had laid there, tears streaming down his face, blood spotting onto the mattress. Steps faded down the hallways, but the lock to his room never clicked.
Despite the pain in his bruised body, Julian had dressed. He took one look around the room, debating what to take. In the end, Julian snuck down the servants exit in the middle of the night in a bright coloured doublet, lute strung over his back. The collar around his neck itched at Julian’s throat, but no matter what he did he couldn’t take it off.
Julian almost went back to Lettenhove within the month. He had been wrong to presume the hands of his family was worse than being an unclaimed omega on the streets. The alpha’s were crueller. Hungrier. After all, it wasn’t often you came across an omega, much less an unclaimed one. The only thing that Julian took comfort in was that he couldn’t get pregnant. Not unless he was in heat.
Except, within two months of leaving Lettenhove, he felt it. The unbearable searing heat that filled him. And Julian panicked. He couldn’t bare the idea of coming across an alpha while in heat. They’d kill him. Hell, some of them did a fucking good try of it when he wasn’t in heat.
So Julian ran, into the woods. As far from civilisation as his burning body would allow him. And he desperately prayed that no one would find him until his body stopped betraying him. The heat ran through him, making Julian feverish in his haste to run. So much so, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going. Until he stumbled in the undergrowth, head slamming against a stone.
When he woke, he was surrounded by women. Julian had startled, trying to get to his feet but his limbs were too heavy. The heat gripped him and Julian moaned loudly. Whore. Slut. Words his Father threw at him only too often flew across Julian’s mind as the women circled him. Julian moaned again. His body responding, wanting. Even as his mind screamed no.
And no one touched him. They bathed the sweat from his body, a cool rag staying on his forehead for the 3 days it took for his heat to leave. The only touches he received in the agonising 3 days was the soft, gentle touches followed by re-assuring words. As the heat passed, Julian fluttered eyelids up at the women surrounding him. A question rested on his lips but he couldn’t make the words flow. Instead, he felt himself drift into darkness.
When he woke next he found out the women who had helped him were druids. He had stumbled into Brokilon forest in his heat induced fever. Not realising he’d even stepped foot into Druid territory where they shot down any human foolish enough to enter. But instead of killing him, they had helped him.
“Drink this.” Visenna, placed a cup underneath Julian’s chin 3 days after Julian awoke from his heat. Julian met the dark brown eyes of the druid before opening his mouth. The water was clear and cool going down his throat. Visenna nodded, placing a motherly hand on Julian’s forehead. He lifted his head to meet it. Even before he presented, his Mother had never once shown him affection in the slightest. “This will mask your Omega scent.” Visenna stated and Julian felt his heart lift. Her hand drifted to the collar at Julian’s throat, making Julian flinch ever so slightly. It was a physical reminder of what he was. Worthless. Visenna uttered a word in elder and the lock keeping the collar in place broke. Julian cried in gratitude as the metal collar was removed and was taken away by the druids.
The first town he entered Julian hesitated for a second. But as he walked through, lute slung over his back, he felt his steps grow confident. No one said a word. No one looked at him with hunger. And when he entered the tavern, singing the bawdiest song he knew, Julian felt his heart sore as the words from his reluctant words weren’t Omega slurs. Instead they called him “fucking beta nuisance.”
The next morning, Julian travelled to Oxenfurt. He had always wanted to be a bard. But presenting as an omega had stopped that. But now, the druids had made it so he no longer smelled like an Omega. He was free. For the first time in 3 years. He was free.
When he registered at Oxenfurt, he named himself Jaskier. Throwing away Julian forever.
The next 4 years Jaskier thrived in Oxenfurt. He loved every moment of it. The people, the lessons. The music, the city, the university. After the first year, Jaskier gained himself a reputation of jumping in and out of ladies and gentlemen’s beds. The idea of sex had scared Jaskier at first but he had shaken it off. He was no longer Julian the omega. He was Jaskier. The bard. And he would be damned if he let his new found freedom be ruined because of a little childhood abuse.
Jaskier graduated as a master of the seven liberal arts. His professors had been astonished, after all no one could believe the loud, brash Jaskier who never even listened in lessons would graduate, let alone with honours.
Upon graduation, Jaskier was offered a place as a professor in Oxenfurt but he declined. 4 years in one place had made Jaskier feel a bout of wanderlust. He wanted to wander. He wanted to see the world. So he decided he would be a travelling bard. He’ll admit, life on the road was difficult. Not every tavern welcomed bards and he was thrown out of a few. But he was happy. For the first time in his entire life. Jaskier was happy.
His life in Oxenfurt had left Jaskier a little sheltered to the worlds events and as he travelled he started to pick up rumours. The Witcher’s of Kaer Morhen had invaded Kaedwen when Jaskier was still a child. The reasons where conflicting, after all no one could understand why Witcher’s who had hunted monsters for years had decided to all of a sudden invade human territories. While Jaskier had been studying in Oxenfurt, the Witcher’s, led by their mysterious warlord the white wolf, had conquered half of Redania. Rumours where that they would eventually conquer the whole of the Northern continent.
People where scared of Witcher’s, rumours circulated them. Not pleasant rumours either. All Witcher’s were alpha’s and it was implied quite vividly that they would break Omega’s in bed. Sterile as they were, they slept with Omega’s not for procreation but for pleasure. More often than not their bed partners didn’t make it out alive. The small part of Jaskier’s mind that was still Julian, still scarred from the beatings and rapes his Father had subjected him to, was terrified of the idea of Witcher’s. But Jaskier buried that part of his mind as far as he could. After all, everyone was scared of Druids and the Druids Jaskier had met had given him his freedom. Had saved his life. So Jaskier didn’t believe the rumours surrounding the horrendous deeds of Witcher’s
Which is probably why when he came across a group of 10 Witcher’s in an inn one-night Jaskier ignored the fearful looks of the other people in the tavern and walked up to the Witcher’s with a wide grin on his face.
They glowered at him as Jaskier pulled out his lute and began to sing but Jaskier ignored them. There was a small blonde-haired girl sitting between a scarred Witcher and a white haired one so Jaskier quickly discarded the more risqué songs in his retinue. The Witcher’s frowned in confusion the longer Jaskier played, dancing his way through the other tavern patrons but always returning to the Witcher’s table, grin wide on his face.
Upon finishing his performance, Jaskier grabbed an ale and took a seat on an empty table in the corner. He took a long drag, eyes closed as the heady rush of his performance abated. He was, therefore, startled to find the small blonde-haired girl jumping into a seat opposite him. The white haired Witcher followed silently behind her. Jaskier glanced nervously at the Witcher, afraid the alpha had smelt through the druidic magic that masked Jaskier’s omega scent but breathed a sigh of relief when al the white haired Witcher did was lean against the wall, amber eyes fixed on the blonde-haired girl.
“How can I assist you, madame?” Jaskier said, jumping to his feet and sketching a bow to the girl which had her giggling madly. Jaskier grinned back.
“I like your singing.” The young girl replied and Jaskier grinned. He always did appreciate a thankful audience.
“Then you have my grateful gratitude.” He replied, making the girl grin.
“How do you remember all those songs?” She asked and Jaskier launched into a story of how his tutors in Oxenfurt had hammered memorisation into their students head in any way they could.
When he was finished, the girl was bent over laughing and Jaskier could swear he saw a smirk from the white haired Witcher behind her. A thrill of lust woke in Jaskier as he looked at the beautiful snow shite hair of the Witcher. He wondered how it might feel to run his fingers through the snowy locks.
“I apologise, I have forgotten my manners.” Jaskier turns his attention from the handsome stranger as the girl stops her laughing. “I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Jaskier, the great Bard of Oxenfurt.”
“My name’s Ciri.” The girl grinned back, glancing behind her to the white haired Witcher lurking at the wall. “And the big oaf lurking over there is Geralt.”
“A pleasure to met you good sir.” Jaskier replied, offering his hand to Geralt who grunted and took it in hand. “And how did you find my performance?” Geralt seemed to consider that for a moment before answering. His deep voice made Jaskier’s heart stammer in a bout of lust.
“They don’t exist?”
“What don’t exist?” Jaskier said, pretending mock anger. This gained a grin from Ciri.
“The creatures in your song.” Geralt answered and Jaskier felt a heat of embarrassment. While Jaskier was a travelling bard, he hadn’t actually had that many adventures. Meaning the songs, he sung he mostly made up. A sore point in Jaskier’s mind but not much he could do about it. Except…maybe. An idea began to form in Jaskier’s mind. A mad, foolish, stupid idea. But then, Jaskier had never professed to being smart.
“Then I should travel with yourselves and learn the truth about monsters. I’m sure Witcher’s can educate me better than anyone else.” Ciri squealed a yes and Geralt’s eyes flashed in shock. And maybe horror.
“It’s bedtime Ciri.” Geralt gruffly said and Jaskier felt a wave of disappointment as the Witcher led Ciri from the room. As he watched the 10 Witcher’s go up the stairs, though, Jaskier couldn’t help but feel a certain amount of thrill. Because Geralt hadn’t actually said no.
…….
Geralt didn’t know what to do the next morning. He hadn’t actually expected the damned bard to be leaning against the stable door, obviously waiting for the 10 Witcher’s. Ciri shouted in excitement, escaping Eskel’s hand and running over to the bard. Jaskier sketched a low bow to Ciri which had her giggling again.
“What the fuck?” Lambert growled from where he had exited the tavern behind Geralt. “That’s the bard from last night?” Geralt hummed in agreement. The Witcher’s had all been surprised at the bards audacity. He’d come strolling right up to them and hadn’t even hesitated in his performance. No hint of fear. Nothing. It was…dis-orientating if Geralt was honest.
“Can Jaskier come with us?” Ciri asked as the Witcher’s approached them.
“I won’t be any trouble.” Jaskier replied, bright blue eyes meeting Geralt’s own amber ones. And Geralt couldn’t understand the flutter in his heart when he met the wide open, honest blue eyes. “Promise.” He ended the last with a small wink which had Lambert grunting back a laugh.
Geralt fully expected to lose the bard a day into their travels but a week later the damned man was still with them. Eskel, the fucking traitor, had even given the bard one of their spare horses to ride since Jaskier didn’t have one. Geralt couldn’t understand it, and to be honest neither could any of the other Witcher’s.
The bard was colourful, bright and loud. The opposite of all the Witcher’s. He laughed at small things, picking flowers from the ground when they stopped to give the horses a break, offering them to Ciri with a flourish which had Ciri doubled over giggling. When he wasn’t singing or talking he was humming, or strumming tunes on his lute as his horse ambled along the trail unled. It should have been annoying. The constant noise but it wasn’t.
In all honesty, Jaskier confused the Witcher’s. Every human they had ever met stunk of fear, running from the Witcher’s the very moment they could. Even the grateful humans were scared of them. Except Jaskier didn’t have the slightest whiff of fear about him. Not one. And it was confusing.
“Geralt, can Jaskier come back to Kaer Morhen with us?” Ciri asked one night when they had made camp. Said bard was wrapped in a blanket near the fire, snoring softly. Geralt frowned, about to refuse but Eskel interrupted him.
“Yennefer suggested we needed a court bard.” Eskel argued and Geralt growled. Yennefer was the first mage to come to the Witcher’s aid when they started to conquer the North.
“Exactly, and Jaskier graduated at Oxenfurt, he could be my new tutor.” That had Geralt raise his eyebrows. Ciri was being tutored by the Witcher’s in combat and Yennefer in magic but her other studies were sorely lacking. Not least because a keep full of Witcher’s and the fact Ciri was a menace to keep still when bored drove most human tutor’s away. The fact Ciri was offering the idea herself made Geralt’s refusal die in his throat.
“And he’s not scared of us.” Lambert continued, joining in the conversation. Geralt frowned, turning his gaze to the sleeping bard. Jaskier’s brown hair was tousled in sleep and Geralt buried the longing that built in him at the sight of Jaskier’s face scrunched up in peaceful slumber.
“He might say no.” Geralt warned, because after all no one had actually aske the bard.
“He won’t.” Ciri announced, assuredly.
……
Jaskier had enjoyed the 2 weeks travelling in the company of the Witcher’s. They were loud and often crass but Jaskier found himself enjoying every moment of it. Within a few days, he found himself relaxing into the Witcher’s company, throwing out jokes of his own which had them creasing in laughter. He knew they were apprehensive of him at first, confused as to why a human would willingly travel with them so Jaskier did everything he could to re-assure them.
Every now and again Jaskier would hear the voice in his mind that was still Julian shake in fear at the smell of the alpha’s around him but as always Jaskier refused to listen to it. Whenever those thoughts appeared, Jaskier would pull out his lute, strumming a new tune or pull the nearest Witcher or Ciri into a conversation.
Ciri had been a wealth of information when it came to Witcher’s, answering all of Jaskier’s questions without hesitation. “What do the symbols on their medallions mean?” Jaskier had asked one morning as they rode side by side.
“They’re the symbols of the Witcher’s schools. You know, the school of the wolf, cat, viper, griffin, bear.” Ciri listed off in a tone that implied Jaskier should already know this. “They all banded together under the wolf school but they’re all still very separate.”
“And competitive.” Aidan grinned, his cat school medallion shining in the sun. Lambert growled, rolling off his horse and pushing Aidan onto the floor. Ciri and Jaskier ended up in fits of laughter watching the two grown Witcher’s brawl in the middle of the road.
The night 2 weeks after Jaskier had latched himself onto the Witcher’s company, Geralt came to sit next to him by the fire. Jaskier was a little way from the Witcher’s, lute out and hand flying across a composition notebook. Jaskier said nothing as he continued to strum and write down the tune playing in his head. “I have an offer?” Geralt grumbled, making Jaskier pause in his writing.
As Jaskier met the amber eyes in front of him, he felt like his heart would melt in the deep vibrant depths. “By all means.” Jaskier said when Geralt didn’t continue talking.
“Why aren’t you scared?” Geralt suddenly growled, taking Jaskier aback. But Jaskier was nothing if not adaptable. His place in life had made it so he had to be.
“Why would I be, dear wolf.” Jaskier said, surprising even himself when his hand came to Geralt’s jaw, fingers trailing down the rough stubble softly. Geralt grunted, eyes burning brightly as they dipped away from Jaskier’s view. Jaskier sighed deeply, collecting his thoughts for a moment. “People are scared of what they don’t understand.” Jaskier gently pulled Geralt’s amber eyes to look into his own blue ones. “It’s why they’re prejudiced against anything even remotely different.”
“And you’re not?” Geralt grumbled, voice vibrating deep in his chest.
“I’ve found there’s a lot more to be scared of things we do know of than things we don’t know anything about.” Jaskier said, truthfully. “And I’ve never believed rumours made in malice.” Geralt hummed, face leaning in slightly to Jaskier’s touch. They sat in silent for a few minutes before Jaskier asked, “You had an offer?”
“Yes.” Geralt hummed, eyes flashing for a second. “We need a bard.”
“You’re asking me to be your bard?” Jaskier asked when Geralt didn’t expand within a few minutes. Geralt hummed.
“And Ciri needs a tutor.” Geralt grunted and Jaskier moved his hand away from Geralt’s face. “You don’t have to.” Geralt grunted, taking the removal of Jaskier’s hand as refusal.
“No…I’m not refusing.” Jaskier interrupted, grabbing Geralt’s hand when the Witcher stood to leave. “I’d love to. It’s just…a bit of a surprise.” Jaskier said honestly as he pulled Geralt back to sitting down beside him. “But…I didn’t think humans could go to Kaer Morhen?”
“Usually not.” Geralt grumbled.
“Wouldn’t you need special permission?” Jaskier asked and Geralt frowned at that. “You know, from the White Wolf?” And Jaskier hid his shock at the smile that played on Geralt’s lips then. He’d never seen the white haired man smile before and he liked it. It suited him.
“I don’t think the White Wolf would have a problem.” Geralt grumbled.
“And how would you know?” Jaskier asked, surprised to hear the other Witcher’s surrounding them had gone quiet. Listening, most likely, Jaskier thought. He’d learnt the last 2 weeks that Witcher hearing was highly impressive.
“He’s the white wolf, bard.” Lambert shouted over, the Witcher’s around him laughing loudly as Geralt seemed to look embarrassing. Which Jaskier would have thought was cute if not for the fact he was a little dumbfounded. This white haired Witcher was the White Wolf. And Jaskier hadn’t even realised.
“Well,” Jaskier replied, thankful for the bardic training which kept his voice from betraying his shock. “I would be honoured.”
…..
Kaer Morhen was imposing. That was Jaskier’s first thoughts as he looked up at the tall dark building above them. Ciri was jumping up and down on her horse in impatience as they trekked up to the castle. As Jaskier’s horse stumbled at the uneven ground, Jaskier thought to himself that anyone wanting to lay siege to the castle would have a damned hard time about it. The last few days with the Witcher’s company had been full of stories from the Witcher’s about Kaer Morhen.
Jaskier had gained enough stories from the 10 Witcher’s over the last month to begin writing numerous songs. One such song he perfected the previous night and intended to sing to the Witcher keep that evening, if Geralt allowed it of course. After learning who the White Wolf was, Jaskier had dragged the man away the first night after agreeing to come to Kaer Morhen to ask questions.
Geralt had looked a little startled when Jaskier pulled out a notebook, furiously writing everything Geralt told him. The inspiration for his first Witcher song, of course, was the truth behind the taking of Kaedwen. “All anyone knows about why the Witcher’s took Kaedwen is rumour and here say.” Jaskier stated when Geralt grunted about telling him the whole story. “If I’m to be the Witcher’s bard then I should know the truth so I can write a decent song about it.”
Geralt had grunted but he had relented. The actual story was rather simple. Geralt had returned to the wolf school 2 winters before taking Kaedwen with a heavy heart. His final contract had taken him to a small town called Blaviken, where a sorcerer had asked Geralt to murder a young-women by the name of Renfri. Geralt had refused to, citing that Witcher’s didn’t get involved in politics. Renfri, similarly asked Geralt to murder the sorcerer, Stregabor. Long story short, Geralt had been tricked into killing Renfir. Partly because of the Stregabor and partly because Renfri could not let go of her revenge. “She didn’t deserve to die.” Geralt grumbled and Jaskier had felt his heart break a little at the sad look that crossed the Witcher’s face. Whoever said Witcher’s didn’t feel pain was a fool.
Upon returning to Kaer Morhen for the Winter, Geralt had come to face that the worse type of monsters were humans themselves. “Took us all bloody winter to get the whole story out of him.” Lambert had added into the story, the other Witcher’s listening to Geralt’s telling. Geralt had only grunted.
“We went back on the path that spring but we all had what he said playing on our minds.” Eskel continued the story.
“Mentioned it to the other Witcher’s when they asked about Blaviken to.” Lambert added.
“Soon as we heard what happened we started to see the same thing.” Aidan agreed. “The worst monsters are human.”
“Then a rumour came about a monster killing young omega’s in Kaedwen.” Eskel grunted. “Me and the white wolf took the contract to kill the monster.” Jaskier nodded, writing down everything the Witcher’s were saying. “Turns out it wasn’t a creature killing them. It was their king.”
“Vesemir put out the word that winter to the other schools.” Auckes, one of the Viper school Witcher’s continued. Ciri had climbed onto Geralt’s lap at some point during the story, head resting on the White Wolf’s chest. “Suggesting banding together to deal with this King.”
“Next thing we know, we’ve got a Witcher army and we’ve conquered Kaedwen.” Lambert finished. Geralt grunted, hand moving through Ciri’s hair in his lap.
“The worst monsters truly are humans.” Jaskier murmured, mind flashing to a scared 14 year old boy being thrown to the ground and collared just because he had presented as an omega.
…..
Yennefer didn’t know what to expect when she received word from Geralt that they were returning to Kaer Morhen with a human bard. Geralt and the 10 Witcher’s had left Kaer Morhen over 2 months ago with Ciri to survey the land under the White Wolf’s control. Yennefer and Vesemir had been left in charge of the remaining Witcher’s and while Yennefer would never admit it, she was thankful Geralt and Eskel where returning. The politics involved with dealing with the whole of the Witcher’s conquered kingdoms was infuriating. Yennefer was willing to curse some of the ridiculous pompous lords and ladies they had to deal with in their letters. When she’d helped Geralt and the Witcher’s conquer Kaedwen that last thing she had expected was all the bloody paperwork that came with being the White Wolf’s official mage.
Of course, Yennefer would admit she was looking forward to Ciri returning. She’d wanted children for years and Ciri was like the child she had never had. The 10 year old was a bundle of energy and Yennefer loved her very much.
As Yennefer, Triss and Vesemir stood at the entrance to Kaer Morhen, Yennefer found her eyes drifting to the human bard. He was sitting on a gelding, riding stirrup to stirrup with Ciri and Geralt on either side. A lute was hanging on his back and even from this far back, Yennefer could see him talking and gesturing with his hands. Ciri was grinning widely at the brightly coloured human and, much to Yennefer’s surprise, so was Geralt. Although Geralt’s was a lot more subdued.
The bard jumped from his horse easily, eyes wide with curiosity as he looked up at the large castle in front of him. Yennefer reached forward with her mind to brush his and her eyes widened in shock as she came across a brick wall. Glancing at Triss, Yennefer saw the same look cross the brown-haired sorceresses eyes. The bards mind was protected. Hidden from view. Yennefer’s eyes narrowed as she glared at the bard. The man didn’t seem to notice, blue eyes looking all around him as he absentminded adjusted the lute bag on his back. Geralt saw Yennefer’s glare though and raised an eyebrow. Yennefer ignored him.
Reaching her magic forwards again, Yennefer pushed against the brick wall and watched as the bard stumbled for a moment, eyes blown wide in horror. Images of a forest and druids surrounding a 16 year old boy in agonising pain stumbled into Yennefer’s mind. She reached a hand out for Triss, who took it quickly, worry crossing over her own eyes as Yennefer felt the brick wall in the bard’s mind push her backwards.
When she looked up she saw 9 pair’s of amber eyes watching her in confusion. Ciri and Geralt having gone to the trembling bard who had nearly fallen over shock when Yennefer pressed against the wall in his mind. Yennefer took a moment to compose herself before brushing past the Witcher’s concern looks, coming up to face the bard.
And the bard flinched away from her. The bard that had travelled with Witcher’s for a month and had shown no sense of fear whatsoever flinched from her. “Yennefer of Vengerburg. Sorceress to the White Wolf.”
To the bards credit he quickly pushed aside the fear in his eyes and plastered on a bright smile. “Jaskier, master bard. A pleasure my lady.” He sketched a bow, taking the hand Yennefer offered to him and placing a gentle kiss on her hand.
Geralt watched the two with a frown on his face but Yennefer ignored him. Yennefer, herself an alpha, smelt the air around the bard frowning slightly. His smell was subdued to the point of non-existent. Typical for the beta that Jaskier presented himself to be but Yennefer could detect something under the surface. An old and powerful magic typical of the druids of Brokilon Forest.
“Yennefer.” Ciri shouted happily, jumping into a hug which Yennefer pulled the cub into. As she watched Geralt lead Jaskier into the keep, she watched with a slight frown on her face. The bard was holding a secret.
……
Life at Kaer Morhen was extremely different to anything else Jaskier had ever experienced. Either as Julian Alfred Pankratz or Jaskier the bard. The Witcher’s didn’t stand on ceremony, all laughing and joking with one another loudly at dinner. Jaskier had witnessed 3 brawls during dinner the first week alone he had been here. They were loud, uncouth, rude. And Jaskier loved it.
The Witcher’s had loved his song of their taking of Kaedwen, singing the chorus back to him every time Jaskier chose to sing it at dinner. Jaskier had been a bit apprehensive when he entered the Witcher keep. He wasn’t a complete idiot after all. The Witcher’s had been hesitant with him. At least at first. As soon as Lambert and Cohen laughed heartily at something Jaskier said, their apprehension soon left.
There were around 50 Witcher’s in the keep, all from the different Witcher schools plus another large number walking to path. Jaskier soon learnt that the other Witcher schools had been burnt down in retaliation to Kaedwen's sacking. Something Jaskier had learnt had resulted in grave consequences for those involved. Jaskier intended to make that his next ballad, once he had all the details correct of course. Geralt’s first words to him stuck with Jaskier, and he didn’t intend to write a single song that wasn’t at least 95% accurate. Allowing for some artistic licence of course.
His lessons with Ciri were certainly interesting. The girl was extremely bright and Jaskier had a hard time the first month of teaching her finding lessons which kept her attention. He was doing a great job, according to Geralt at least. Lambert had helpfully added that Ciri would have scared him off by now if she wasn’t enjoying the lessons. When Jaskier had asked how Lambert had just shook his head and said “Toads,” shivering as if the memory was too appalling to even think about. Which had just left Jaskier even more confused and Ciri laughing loudly.
The only part of Kaer Morhen Jaskier found frightening, was Yennefer. Triss, the only other mage in the castle was a sweetheart. She and Jaskier got on like a house on fire and Jaskier found he spent a lot of his free time helping her with creating potions for the Witcher’s. Yennefer however, well she terrified Jaskier. It wasn’t just the violet bright eyes which felt like they were penetrating into Jaskier’s very soul. No, it was their first meeting.
Jaskier doesn’t really understand what had happened when Yennefer had looked at him for the first time, all he remembers is the blinding pain and panic of his last heat in Brokilon forest. Jaskier was sure Yennefer knew something. But to his surprise the alpha female said nothing.
3 months into Jaskier’s stay in Kaer Morhen, he nearly collided with Yennefer on his way into the library. “My apologies.” Jaskier stammered, heart hammering as the violet eyes bore into his blue ones. “I’ll leave you to it.” Jaskier said, motioning to the table full of papers that Yennefer had left out.
Yennefer frowned for a moment. “Stay.” And how the fuck was Jaskier meant to refuse that without being rude.
They sat in silence for a few moments, Yennefer going over her papers and Jaskier reading a book on monsters he had heard the bear Witcher’s talking about. “Ciri’s enjoying her lessons.” Yennefer stated, earning a startled look from Jaskier.
“She’s a good student.” Yennefer hummed in agreement.
“She is.” Yennefer agreed. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, Jaskier keenly aware of the violet eyes on him. “I owe you an apology.”
“Whatever for my dear lady.” Jaskier replied, refusing to think back to the look in Yennefer’s eyes the day they met.
Yennefer hummed. “You’re good for the Witcher’s, little lark.” Yennefer stated and Jaskier startled again. “We won’t lose you.” Jaskier hummed in response, unsure what Yennefer was actually going on about.
“I have no plans to leave.” Jaskier replied and Yennefer nodded, violet eyes softening ever so slightly.
“Even though I am the most terrifying person you have ever met.” Yennefer asked and Jaskier cringed. He’d told that to Triss in confidence. Yennefer glared at him for a moment before a grin pulled across her lips. “I appreciate the description.” And Jaskier laughed, surprised when Yennefer joined in.
And like that, the all encompassing fear evaporated. Not all of course, but then Jaskier would have been more surprised if there was a person in the whole continent that wasn’t at least a little scared of Yennefer. She was more terrifying that all the Witcher’s of Kaer Morhen.
…….
Geralt missed the bard. Fuck…he didn’t mean to miss the fucking bard. He hadn’t meant to let the bright annoying man get under his skin. But 2 years into meeting Jaskier and he fucking well had. According to Eskel Geralt had been utterly unbearable since Jaskier had gone down the path 2 months fully intending to sing his songs to every tavern, inn and noble hall he could manage. Aidan and Lambert had gone with him, citing that the bard needed someone to watch his back. Geralt had grunted in agreement. He’d have gone himself but as the White Wolf he couldn’t exactly skirt his duties for however fucking long Jaskier decided to wander around the continent singing.
The whole keep had been oddly subdued since the bard’s departure. It had become common place to hear music or Jaskier’s lilted voice in the middle of some ridiculous story or reaming off poetry to some unsuspecting Witcher that the silence the bard’s disappearance had left had every Witcher in the place missing it. They were meant to be the scariest most dangerous things in the continent and here they all were, missing the joyous singing of a human bard.
But it didn’t matter, Jaskier was back today. Yennefer had received word the previous week that Lambert, Aidan and Jaskier were making their way back up the path to Kaer Morhen. They’d all be back today. Ciri had jumped for joy upon hearing it, grinning from ear to ear. “As much as I like Vesemir teaching me, Jaskier always makes the lessons more fun.” Vesemir grinned at the cub’s words. In truth, the old Witcher found it hard work to keep up the energetic pup and was looking forward to passing her energy back to their unsuspecting bard.
Geralt was in a council meeting with Vesemir, Eskel and Yennefer when the bard returned. He cursed silently that he couldn’t go and meet Jaskier at the stables but he knew his duty lied here. The other 3 could see his impatience, Yennefer and Eskel sharing a secretive smile while Vesemir only rolled his eyes, as Geralt paced the length of the floor. Why the hell did these diplomatic letters take so much reading and discussion.
Finally, they were finished. Geralt left straight away, running straight into Lambert on his walk to Jaskier’s rooms. “Bards a fucking genius.” Lambert was grinning. “Not one human gave us a filthy look. Hell they didn’t even stink too much of fear. Never thought it’d be possible but the little lark’s made humans like us.” Geralt grunted, heart soaring at the praise Jaskier gained.
“Where is he?” Geralt grunted and Lambert gave him a sly smile which Geralt glared at.
“Baths. Said he couldn’t bare the stink of the road a moment longer.” Lambert laughed as Geralt turned tail and stalked down to the baths.
This time of day the baths were empty. As Geralt cast his eyes around, his eyes landed on the only person sitting in the hot springs. Jaskier’s back was facing Geralt, hair dripping down his back as he leant on the stone ledge. Geralt could imagine the bard’s eyes were closed in contentment. Geralt stood for a moment, heart fluttering as he watched Jaskier move to scrub at the dirt from the road with soap. His back rippled from the movements, scars standing out in sharp contrast. Geralt pushed down the irrational anger at seeing the scars covering Jaskier’s body. The first the Jaskier had appeared in the hot springs at the same time of the Witcher’s, nearly 2 months upon arriving in Kaer Morhen, every Witcher’s alpha’s instincts had kicked in seeing the marks lining their bard’s back.
Jaskier had laughed it off, even as Geralt smelt the lingering fear in Jaskier’s scent. Not fear of them, but rather fear of whoever had caused those marks. Geralt had vowed if he ever learnt what had happened to his bard to cause such scarring, he would kill the person responsible without hesitation.
Jaskier turned his head, blue eyes shining in delight as he saw Geralt standing there. Geralt felt his heart stutter at the adoring look his bard sent him. The last 2 years, Geralt had felt something for their bard but he’d buried it. Refusing to admit that he might have feelings for someone. Witcher’s weren’t meant to have feelings. But every word, look and touch the bard sent Geralt (and every other Witcher really), reminded them that they weren’t unfeeling monsters. That they were allowed to feel.
“You just going to stand and lurk?” Jaskier grinned, knowing his voice would carry over to Geralt. The Witcher grunted, tugging off his clothing and joining Jaskier in the baths.
Jaskier sighed, closing his blue eyes as he leant into Geralt by his side. Geralt hummed, enjoying the feeling of his bard wrapped in his arms. The man was tall, as tall as some of the shorter Witcher’s even. His muscles were well defined. Not strong exactly but defined. He was handsome, Geralt found himself thinking as Jaskier’s head rested on Geralt’s shoulder. Sitting like this, with his bard in his arms, Geralt felt his alpha instincts kick in. He wanted to protect the bard. Wanted to keep him safe from everything in the world. Wanted to claim him as his own.
“What are you thinking dear Witcher?” Jaskier’s voice broke into Geralt’s thoughts.
“I…fuck…”Geralt grunted, arms tightening around Jaskier as the bard looked up with bright blue eyes. Worry was edged in them and Geralt cursed himself softly. Yennefer had collared Geralt the week after Jaskier had left for his travels. Geralt had been a complete arse, Yennefer’s words not his. Glaring and glowering at anyone who came near. Pining, she’d said and Geralt had cursed the sorceress.
“You miss the little lark.” Yennefer had said, and Geralt had glared deeper. Of course he did, all the fucking Witcher’s did. Jaskier was their bard. Their little lark. It was strange for him not to be there. “Not like everyone else.” Yennefer stroked a hand down Geralt’s face. She and Geralt had tried a relationship in the early days on the Witcher’s conquering Kaedwen but it had never worked. They were too much alike. To much fire and passion. It led to arguments, anger, hurtful words said. They were better as friends. “You love him.” And Geralt had wanted to protest but no one knew him as well as Yennefer did. “Tell him.” Yennefer had stated and Geralt had been battling for the last 2 months on if he should How Jaskier would take it? What if Jaskier rejected him? What if Jaskier left?
“Geralt.” Jaskier had moved so he was in front of Geralt, hand stroking through Geralt’s snowy white hair. “What’s wrong, dear wolf?”
And Geralt looked at the bright blue eyes, lips red and beautiful. He pulled Jaskier into a kiss.
…..
Jaskier made a noise of surprise as Geralt’s lips crashed into his own. Geralt startled at Jaskier’s noise, loosening his hold on Jaskier’s waist and pulling back but Jaskier didn’t let him. He wrapped a hand in Geralt’s snow white hair, pulling him back down to meet his lips. Deepening the kiss, Jaskier felt Geralt’s arms wrap tighter around Jaskier’s waist. “I love you.” Geralt grunted between their breathless kisses and Jaskier felt his heart sore in happiness.
“I love you too.” Jaskier murmured against Geralt’s lips, laughing as the alpha pulled Jaskier up so he was straddling Geralt’s hips.
That night Geralt took Jaskier to his rooms, after tucking Ciri into bed of course. And Jaskier could honestly say it was the best sex he had ever had. Geralt was kind, caring. He made sure Jaskier was fully prepared before even considering breaching him. He was gentle as he rocked into Jaskier, murmuring sweet comforting words as Jaskier adjusted. And Jaskier felt like his whole body was alight with song and music and light as Geralt held him close.
When they were done, Jaskier lay breathing deeply wrapped in the comforting confines of Geralt’s chest. Geralt’s strong arms wrapped around Jaskier’s body. And Jaskier felt protected, safe with his alpha.
……
“About fucking time.” Lambert grunted the next morning when Geralt and Jaskier walked down to breakfast, Geralt’s arm slung lightly around Jaskier’s shoulders. Jaskier went blushed slightly at Lambert’s words.
Geralt just grunted, grabbing hold of Jaskier’s waste and pulling the bard onto his lap with a shriek. Eskel rolled his eyes and Lambert laughed loudly as Geralt placed Jaskier on his lap, feeding the bard breakfast and ignoring the gathering Witcher’s.
“You won’t hurt Geralt.” Ciri said very seriously during that morning’s lesson.
“Never.” Jaskier promised and Ciri had grinned happily, wrapping Jaskier into a full-bodied hug before allowing him to start that day’s lessons.
Everything was perfect, Jaskier thought. He was happier than he had ever been in his entire life. Geralt made him happy. He loved Geralt more than he thought was possible.
Everything was perfect. Until a month into his and Geralt’s new found relationship.
….
Jaskier had been feeling a little off all day but he’d chalked it up to some sort of winter cold. Witcher’s may not get sick but humans most definitely did. That night as Jaskier stood up and went through the few songs of tonight’s performance, he felt it. The sharp flush of heat at the back of his neck, running all the way down to his groin.
His hands stilled on his lute and he felt every pair of alpha’s eyes on him as a hot flush gathered around his cheeks. Jaskier could smell the sweet honey smell that appeared at the first sign of Jaskier’s heat. He hadn’t smell that smell since he was 16 years old. Jaskier felt fear clutch at his heart as he smelt the smell of alpha arousal running through the room. The Witcher’s responding to the sharp sweet smell of an Omega in heat.
Jaskier felt Geralt’s arms rest on his arm and he shook his head. Tears leaked from his eye’s, he couldn’t do this. Not again. He felt the lute fall from his fingertips, not caring that his precious instrument may be damaged.
Geralt went to say something but Jaskier didn’t give him a chance, he bolted.