The Dragon Wolf, Warlord of the North

by LittleAntares

Summary:

What if or how Eskel got the reputation to be the terrifying Warlord of the North instead of Geralt.

Notes:

• Inspired by With a Conquering Air by inexplicifics
• Inspired by Must Brave the Thorns by inexplicifics

The idea plot is from the AWAU Prompt Fest n° 1: saving someone from a basement & probably prompt 2: snerdle (definition: to wrap up cozily in bed) and now we have a new multi-chaptered fic… and while I was ploting I discovered the idea of Warlord Eskel from Lumi in the AWAU Fan Server. So it became a new "what if" to play with. So here we are.
It's not betaed... English is not my Native language.
I hope you enjoy the read!

Chapter 1: The call to arms

The wind is softly caressing the meadow, the sky is a perfect blue with no clouds in sight and the grass is luxuriant. The valley is beautiful on this sunny day. The weather is perfect, hot enough to discard capes but not so hot as to sweat. 

A man, hair made blond by the shining sun, stands close to the edge of the forest where his horse is resting, but not him. He’s standing, waiting. He doesn’t seem to care about potential sunburns. His face is resting toward the sun, one side of his face is clean and smooth, the other side is the exact opposite. It gives him a roguish look, which is accentuated by the red gambeson he’s wearing despite the heat he must feel for staying under the sun for so long. He looks unarmoured but for the small dagger resting against his hip, his swords, one steel and the other silver are resting under a tree with his bags, small so he may travel fast. 

Eskel is at the agreed meeting point with those he asks help from. They may not come. He doesn’t know. The uncertainty is making him fret, as much as a witcher does anyway. He can feel his chaos reaching very close to the surface, buzzling like those bees he set off with Geralt a long time ago, with how angry he feels. His slow witcher heartbeat is not so slow now and he keeps fisting his palms and forcing them to relax. The repetition is strangely close to meditating. Eskel focuses on that. 

He can't attack a stronghold on his own even if he wants to. He would, will if nobody comes. He hopes they do. His brother, his best friend, the man he could claim to love, Geralt has been kept prisoner by a fucking King for whatever reason they chose. Witchers used to be mostly safe from that bullshit. They didn't care about politics and still don't. Eskel knows Geralt, even with Blaviken sometimes pulled up, Eskel knows his brother wouldn’t do anything warranting to be locked away.

Eskel just wants his brother back, safe and sound. He nearly attacked all on his own lonesomeness when he heard the news of Geralt’s fate. Thankfully, the sorceress who warned him stopped him from being irrational. She said her name was Yennefer and she was a friend of Geralt. She said she needed him to help rescue him. "It's too much for one, even one of my caliber " She had said, hinting, “it’s going to be too much for either of us, don’t do anything stupid.”  

Eskel breathes slowly, in and out. The sun’s warmth is distracting him. Yennefer smelled genuine when she came and Yennefer smelt of lilac and gooseberries, the perfume has become familiar at the start of winter when Geralt arrives at the Keep. Eskel knows she will be back as agreed. So now, Eskel is waiting for her to come back with reinforcement. They will need it to take Ard Carraigh. Fuck what a mess it’s going to be. Eskel should warn the remaining witchers… He hopes some come.

"Eskel." Vesemir greets as he walks to him. Eskel opens his eyes and sighs in relief. His mentor is here now. He’s not alone anymore. 

"Vesemir." He sags a little onto the hug the old wolf provides. Vesemir can both smell and see the anxiety his pup is feeling. It won’t do to have him distracted.

Eskel breathes the familiar scent of the man that could be his father in everything but blood and opens his eyes again, having it seems, closed them. The whole School is here. Each and every wolf has answered the call to arms.

"Huh?" Eskel’s voice fails him.

"Of course we came!" Gweld says and dismounts to hug his brother as well. It’s fierce and so good. Eskel feels a little more like himself. He’s not alone. Of course, his brethren would come for Geralt, probably for any of them. Even their prickly beloved Lambert. Speaking of him, where is he? Eskel hasn’t noticed him yet and no curse has been said to him. Is Lambert alright? It's only been a few months but to see each other on the Path is rare. What if something happened-

"Whoever attacks one, attacks the pack." Rennes says in lieu of greeting, preventing Eskel from spiraling again. 

"Damn right!" Lambert yells from another side of the field. Eskel turns to face him, a smile on his face. There he is.

And Eskel can see another unknown witcher by his little brother’s side. He wears a Cat medallion around his neck and the whole rumored Cats’ caravan is behind them. Lambert brought the Cats School? 

"Cats?" Eskel inquiries without coming closer. His little brother seems in a better mood than during winters but he'd rather stay cautious. Cats can be unpredictable. 

"I'm Aiden of the Cat. Lambert is mine. If you're not happy, you can fight me.” The Cat bellows, chin held high and green eyes daring them to object. “So if Lambert needs me, I answer and my own siblings follow in kind."

"Old Wolf, that's a lot of gray hair." Guxart chuckles suddenly, from behind the two younger witchers and grabs Vesemir into a hug.

"Talk about yourself, old Cat. How many wrinkles did you get?" 

"Old or not. I'm sure I can still make you howl." Guxart purrs and Wolves have the privilege to see Vesemir blush. 

"Huh?" Lambert says.

"Oh. So that's your father. You take after him." Aiden teases.

“Fuck you!” Lambert curses. 

“Sure.” Aiden purrs and licks Lambert’s cheek before jumping off his horse and fleeing from Lambert.

"Master Vesemir. Eskel, Lambert." Coën greets, cutting off Lambert from chasing his lover. "Wolves and Cats." He nods at them all. "I'm Coen of the Griffin and this is Triss Merigold, a mage who specializes in healing. My schoolmates are ready to help. We, of the Griffin, won't let our kinsmen alone for this."

"It is much appreciated, my friend." Eskel nods back. They are cousins in a way. Coen has been to Kaer Morhen before. He’s trusted by the Wolves. It's good that he came. Eskel did not, however, think he would bring his whole school with him. They are already so much more than he thought the witchers as a whole were. They introduce themselves and the school heads make a circle to exchange pleasantries and news of the Continent since each school has its own favored hunting grounds.

They chose to set up a semblance of a camp in this field. They can see the city gates from here but are far away to be safe from wandering guards. They don’t want to provoke yet.

It takes more time than Eskel thought it would with them being used to walk the Path but then the realization sets it. They don’t know how to work together. They are good individually but they have never been out there together. 

Weirdly the Cats are the best at the exercise, leaving in their caravan on the road they are good at this. They take a spot and make their space and are ready faster than the Wolves and Griffin. Lambert settles with the Cats like they are used to him being there. And Eskel knows it’s a fact. Lambert is as much of a Cat as he is a Wolf. He has been adopted. He can see some Wolf make the same connection and seems baffled. 

Griffin are courtly and God, Eskel is already tired to listen to them being way to polite than necessary to set a fucking camp. 

Wolves, it seems, for all the pack shit that is said about them are a disaster. They growl and huff. Eskel is rolling his eyes and watches as Rennes and Vesemir, plus some older Wolves try to wrangle everything.

“You’re kidding me!” Lambert yells at them. “Just split the tasks. We all know you knows how to set a fucking camp! We walk the path for fuck’s sake. Just do as you’re told instead of bringing your ego in.” 

“Shut it runt! No wonder the Cats want you and we don’t, you’re just the leftover.” a Wolf Lambert has never liked, sneers.

Lambert is ready to intervene, but Aiden grabs his hand and they all watch as Vesemir punches the Wolf right on his face, then fists his shirt: “What is that nonsense you’re saying to my son?” He growls.

Lambert looks wide-eyed as his mentor, the one who was tasked to civilize him, whom he bit for years and screamed at, defends him and calls him “son” with a growl that sounds like it’s pulled from deep within his chest.

Barmin, the oldest living member of the School, suddenly pulls out a sword, the steel one and makes a head gesture to come to Vesemir. Rennes grabs their dissident wolf and they watch them take him away.

“What! You’ll choose that asshole over me?”

“Any day!” Gweld yells. 

“Don’t worry Lamb, that bastard has always been a problem. High time, we deal with him.” Remus says. “You’re too young, but Wolves take care of their problems themselves.”

“Besides, you’re our prickly asshole.” Eskel teases, ruffling his red curls.

“Hm.” Lambert hums in great imitation of his older brother, not protesting the care shown.

They finally managed to have three camps set in close quarter when shadows emerged from the tree lines.

“Serrit!” Gweld yells as soon as he recognizes her moving patterns.

“Puppies, no decorum.” She grumbles but lets herself be held tightly by her lover.

“And I’m teased for my Cat. A Viper, really?” Lambert mutters and Eskel chuckles.

“You came?” Gweld whispers in her neck.

“Of course, I did.” She scolds and louder she adds: “Wolves against humans. Huh! No way I’d miss this or let you get hurt.”

“Barmin.”

“Ivar.”

The Viper comes forward first and when it seems it’s not a trap, whistle for his snakes to make camp. They hunt and share the food. Overall it's quite an experience.

It’s early afternoon, when a portal opens on the side of their camps, four different camps, closed to each other, but distinct all the same. Some witchers have mingled, like Guxart is in the Wolf camp with Vesemir and Lambert spreads on Aiden, laughing with the Cats and Eskel talking with Gweld, Serrit and Coen. The school heads are in the middle, drinking quietly and trying to make peace and be the voice of reason. If they can play nice, so will their brethren.

"Hello fellows." Merten says as he steps out of a portal. "Manticores will answer this call as we already lost too much to nobles."

"Well met." Eskel greets, standing up and watches as a dozen of Manticores step from the portal and then a mage.

"I'm Istredd. Yennefer requested my help. Oh, Triss?"

"Hello Istredd." Triss smiles as she steps out of her tent. She knows witchers are wary of her so she is a little on the side, so they all feel safe.

A few minutes later, barely the time to say hi to all present, another portal shines and coming out are the Cranes.

"I owe Geralt's one and Cranes would like that debt to be erased." 

His comrades follow him and another sorceress closes the portal as soon as she steps in the field.

“Bianca.” Triss squeals and hugs her.

“Triss.” She smiles back. “What is our Yen up to again?”

“It’s Yen, what do you expect?” Triss laughs.

"Welcome." Eskel says calmly even through the disbelief at having nearly all the Schools answering Yennefer and his call for help. 

A violet portal suddenly erupts and then, stepping out is a huge mountain of the witcher with a lot of other Bears. And finally Yennefer is here.

"We won't be left out of this turn in History." Artek, the school Head of the Bears says and comes to offer his respect to the other school Heads.

"Eskel. We have an army to request our people back." Yennefer grins nastily. 

“Let's settle a camp.” Merten says and his pride moves to obey. "And then we'll talk."

They are something like three hundred.

"You're more numerous than what we were led to believe." Yennefer says. 

Eskel hums. He’s surprised too but he won’t admit to it. “Perhaps, that stupid King will release Geralt and your friend when he sees our numbers." Eskel says quietly to Yennefer who offers a nasty smile that says all he needs to know.

*

A little time passes and all the witchers are ready to listen to why they are here. Eskel knows he will be heard even from the farther witchers. Their senses are just that good. Mages stand on the side, not hidden but not making themselves the center of attention. No, all eyes are on him.

“The King of Kaedwen has captured one of us for the fun of it. You might have heard or met him. His name is Geralt of Rivia. He’s a Wolf, good hearted and too fucking noble for a witcher but he is one of us. He was captured with other non-humans because the King wanted to display them. He has a menagerie of beasts and creatures alike that we do not hunt as long as they keep to themselves. He’s rumored to have an appetite worse than any monster we are made to kill. Should we let those nobles think they can do with us what they wish. We don’t delve in politics so we should let ourselves be killed and treated like dirt for our hundred years to come?” 

“Nay!” Some choruses.

“Alright.” Yennefer grins. “Diplomacy first and when he refuses, because he’s a stupid King. You can hunt.”

“We don’t kill innocent people.” Eskel growls, looking each witcher in the eye. Eskel has never liked to be in the center of attention since he got his scars but this is important to him. “I don’t care about your beliefs or what you did before. This is now. I know I’m the one requesting your help but we do not touch innocent souls. If you cannot abide by this, be gone. And if you’re staying to have fun on my watch. Think again. No innocents. We hunt monsters.” Eskel explains with a soft growl at the end to show he means it.  “We hunt monsters.” He repeats. “What about those shaped as men? Should we hunt them as well”

“Aye!”

*

They strategize, Eskel, Yennefer, Gweld, Vesemir and each school heads. Eskel requests Lambert as well because as his temperament is feral, he has good ideas and is smart. Aiden lingers close and his presence seems to help Lambert. In the end, they agreed to send a group in so they can defend each other. So a Viper and a Cat at least because they are more used to going inside cities and being willing to do what must be done if it comes to it. Letho, Gaetan and  Kiyan volunteer since Letho knows Ard Carraigh well enough and the Cats know the Viper.

It's late and Yennefer says the Court will never receive outsiders so late. She is worried, Eskel can smell it, he must smell close to that but he understands the logic to wait for the new day. The next morning cannot come fast enough. He's sitting leaning against a tree when he recognizes the witcher approaching.

"Eskel." Lambert mumbles, an impressive mess of hair and a smell Eskel grins at, despite his worried state. "C'mon. Cuddles." 

Eskel opens his arms. Lambert doesn't wait a second more to just spread himself over his brother like a blanket.

"So Aiden?" Eskel smiles.

"You'll like him. He's nice. Don't see what he sees in me but… He's my Cat. They made a Cats puddle so I know he's good" Lambert nuzzles his brother's chest and yawns.

"He sees the noble and the sweet under the prickly. Sleep little wolf." Eskel whispers and watches his little brother do just that.

*

The sun has taken its place in the sky when their messengers come back empty handed one hour after they were gone. "He refused to parlay with beasts. We have no rights and thus are illegitimate for any claims." Letho says.

"He also laughed when I said we would siege his city.” Gaetan adds angrily.

The witchers growls as a whole. It’s like a thunderstorm.

“He also said he was going to send us pieces of your Geralt every hour we stay here." Kiyan says at last.

Eskel growls loudly and through the anger, he's suddenly very calm. A strange lucidity has fallen over him, like a silk cocoon. He marches straight to the gates in quick determined steps.

“Eskel!” more than a dozen witchers yell and run after their swords and then follow him. 

Eskel pays them no mind and calls the chaos he keeps hidden because he's a witcher and not a mage and casts his favorite sign: Igni.

Nothing happens for a split second and then, red. Red flames everywhere. Eskel is surrounded by a fire burning so bright it's like the sun is rising. The flames encircle him and go up and up, illuminating the sky in amber as if the sun chooses to set. The degrees go up and up as well and the gate, the rocks, the Earth squeak and vibrate. 

Eskel, with half his face full of scars and a snarl upon his lips, a growl like a never-ending thunderclap, amber eyes glowing and the chaos within his body being set free, is a vision coming straight from the deepest pit of Hell. He's beautifully terrifying. The fire seems to lick him in a warm embrace and dance around him, fumes twirling and greeting the darkening sky. The fire is so intense the fumes are eclipsing the sun. Eskel is bringing the night sky and the sun’s warmth onto the Earth. He's part of it. He doesn't seem to notice how hot it has become. How the air vibrates when he breathes, nor how the floor shattered where he stands. His surrounding answers to his whim. He’s in perfect control. He is the wrath of every scorned soul. Right now, he’s more than a witcher, he is like a God.

The metal melts away, transformed into liquid that drips and falls at Eskel feets. Everything bends to his will. Nothing will stand in his way. It should burn him. But it doesn't. The gates are no more. In their place is a huge irregular hole with the melted metal still dropping like rain and puddling on the floor like a new Path carved from Humanity and taken by a vengeful spirit.

The world stops - as if to admire - and then Eskel steps forward, sounds coming back to him. People are screaming and running away. The guards are hesitating. He smirks. They flinch. He raises an eyebrow and makes a gesture with his head to say: “come, come at me and burn.”

*

"Your pup is terrifying." Guxart whispers to Vesemir who’s also speechless to see calm and patient Eskel lose it. Wolves know Eskel is good with signs but there’s being good and there’s this. 

"That's kind-hearted Eskel?" Lambert mutters as Aiden nods by his side. "Fuck. Fucking hell." He cuddled this motherfucker because Eskel's scent and calmness is smoothing. That's his favorite brother and Lambert is baffled. 

With a display like that Eskel’s threat for the witchers to behave and listen to him takes on a whole new meaning. That man, with noble ideals and a witcher’s strength, powered like a mage, is worth following. Right now, Eskel is one with the fire like some dragon of old. 

Chapter 2: A lark’s song

Jaskier’s life in the Kaedwen court is both painful and bittersweet. He feels like his life is getting away from him, his freedom has been taken away, snatched like a flower on the side of the road before it could fully bloom. 

He loves music, he loves his lute, he loves adventures, he loves to play and to sing. He doesn't want it to change but now he hates it. He hates this. His passion, his reason for breathing and enjoying all the little things life has to offer have been taken away. He must play when and what his host wishes. There’s no freedom in this. There’s no muse to please, no story to tell, just the boring repeats of others’ tales, of an unworthy man who was born a King. What a sad life he’s reduced to… But Jaskier cannot, will not risk Geralt’s safety over himself. They have both been captured and are being used against each other to make them both behave. Jaskier hates that. Jaskier never thought he could truly understand hatred and all it implies, the burning sensation deep inside himself that seems to cloud his judgment, the dark part of his soul that wants to see someone being destroyed, torn apart and hurt just so he could feel like there's justice in this world. Jaskier hates him.

And it’s so hard to navigate the court after being away from it for so long… Jaskier is used to being on the road by his witcher’s side, and to be just Jaskier, a renowned traveling bard, but, still, just a bard. When they were brought before the King, he dared to use the name Pankratz, begging the King and explaining he had been cursed by a monster on their last hunt and the witcher was helping him. The King couldn't care less. He only cared about his special menagerie and his pleasure. And what a displeasing experience it was to learn how many captive beings were inside Ard Carraigh. 

Selfishly, Jaskier wishes Geralt and he had never set foot inside the city. Alas, here they are: Jaskier with feet chained with dimeritium so he cannot run and barely walk, he has to measure his steps carefully and Geralt, caged in their prison cell with a damn collar like an animal. Jaskier always begs on his knees to be able to see if the witcher is still alive. The Kaedwen King has heard of them: the bard Jaskier and his White Wolf so it was impossible to lie about not caring about each other. Besides, Geralt couldn’t lie to save his life, he growled like his namesake when one guard got bold enough to draw Jaskier’s blood.

The basement is more unsanitary than a sewer. It reeks for his mostly human nose, it must be torture for Geralt’s enhanced sense. It’s really disgusting they dare put Geralt, who helps Humanity in that terrible place. He’s chained like a beast and barely fed. Jaskier can see how starved his witcher has become in the spawn of those too many days. He can also see the pain etched on Geralt’s face even if the witcher looked as blank as ever. He’s good at masking his emotion from his face but Jaskier knows. Oh, he knows. He can only watch his love from a distance, they are not allowed closer… Never… Jaskier knows Geralt can smell him, that he chases the very light perfume that he leaves behind because Geralt always has his eyes on him when he’s brought down. But it must be so muted with the stench and the distance, another torture on its own.

Jaskier hates that they entered this city. But if they hadn’t, all this would have been swept away. Jaskier has hope. It can be such a fickle light, easily snuffed, but Jaskier has faith in Yenna. He knows she will come, when and how he doesn’t know, but she won’t abandon them. Jaskier knows, as sure as the sun rises, that she will find a solution to this issue. He knows they are friends. He knows she cares. She cannot lie to him about this. 

Jaskier is strumming his lute to offer a dancing tune to those stupid nobles, all here to entertain themselves at the horror show. Jaskier hates that his fae form is on display, not because of shame or dislike on his part but because he’s just here as an object, not as a being with rights. Here, he has none. And the King didn’t take any risk, he shackled him in case his “curse” could spread through thin air. It can’t, he’s not cursed but the King believes he is and since he’s no longer human then he’s a freak and freak are part of this masquerade. Jaskier nearly misses a note but he’s a master of his craft and just smoothly changes the tune like it was planned.  He truly hates this.

Oh, don’t get him wrong, he loves himself, always had. He loves his chestnut hair and blue eyes, he loves to keep them longer now, he loves how Geralt would run his fingers through them and bring it to his nose to breathe in, how he would use them as leverage when he was pleasuring him. He loves the way Geralt would kiss the top of his head before a contract for good luck or how he would nuzzle his neck and chest after one. How Jaskier was allowed at his back to clean his white hair, how he could kiss those lips or those ass-ets. Has Jaskier talked about those? He could write sonnets and symphonies about them. As a matter of fact, he did but Geralt doesn’t want him to sing about his buttocks to an audience so it’s just silly litanies he sings in private to tease his witcher. He loves how he would blush or get the bashful - more like constipated - face.

Jaskier loves his witcher as much as Geralt loves him. The mountain could have been a disaster but thankfully, Jaskier found his wits and laid all the truth in the wildness. Weirdly, Geralt had been struck dumb by his fae’s form long enough so they could talk and compromise on things like no longer would Jaskier use the higher notes during his performance nor Geralt use only growls to communicate. They relearn and rebuild their relationship into something good. Something good enough that they even managed to confess loving each other. Geralt wasn’t scared to lose Jaskier to time and Jaskier learnt that Geralt showed his care by actions instead of words. So the hardest part isn’t being treated like a pet, like an exhibition, the hardest is to be away from Geralt. They haven't touched each other in what feels like an eternity. Days go by and are all the same, rinse and repeat. It’s maddening.

“Bard, what curse is that?” a drunk noble laughs and his companion tries to touch him.

“If you heard the name, you would be rendered deaf, as for touching me, you might get a side effect of my curse.” Jaskier sweetly says, playing off the melodious sounds his voice manages to vocalize to make himself appear more like he cannot control telling the truth instead of trying to protect himself from their advance. Oh, Jaskier knows he has always been handsome but with his eerie blue eyes and small white antlers popping on his head and the stag’s ears while flowers bloom at his mere presence and how a flower crown seems to shine on his head, he’s enchanting. The King refused to touch him again when Jaskier had managed to make him cough petals the first time he tried to have his way with him. Jaskier is a pretty thing and a talented bard but he’s not to be touched. That little magic act nearly cost Geralt his sword hand but Jaskier made himself beg and cry like a devotee praying to their God while saying it was the curse's cruelty and not his own free will that attacked the King. That bastard must have loved it since he let it slide and cooed at Jaskier like he was a beloved pet and gave him a see through nightgown to make him look like a nymph. Jaskier hates the way the King looks at him but he’s safe from him. That he has to watch the disgusting touches and more he does to others is already punishment enough. His body might be safe, but his soul is aching. 

When Jaskier managed to give a heavily coded letter and one single flower to a brave soul, he could only hope the words reached Yenna.

The main hall is truly beautiful, the ceiling is very high and decorated with paints and gold ornament, it looks like a night sky full of stars; the pillars are made of white marble and stretch artfully to the top. Everything breathes opulence and power; it’s masterfully decorated to show wealth and prosperity. The throne is also a masterpiece feat for a King, it’s standing above the room. Behind is a huge tapestry with the symbol of royalty. The King sits imperiously on the dais to dominate his court and Jaskier, chained on the side, is playing a sweet tune. The whole room would be magnificent if it wasn’t for the many chained creatures being displayed… A pelt is mounted in a showcase while the selkie is kept close to brush her fingers on it but can’t do more than have the faint touch of her beloved pelt on her fingertips. It’s hard to watch the despair and the hope that if she could stretch just a little more she could truly touch it and soothe the pain. Jaskier closes his eyes to play and willing the tears away and if he does cry, he’ll blame it on his emotional state as a bard. 

Yesterday, he has been forbidden to see Geralt and he’s worried, his stomach is in knots and he’s scared. When some guests arrived earlier today, he had been taken away to bathe and prepare for the afternoon tea party. Jaskier’s heart is beating wildly, his palms are clammy. He is so worried about Geralt and when he asks he’s ignored. 

He’s playing an old tune and singing a soft aria when he hears the screams. They are impossible to miss. It comes from the whole city. The sound ripples and crashes like waves at the shore: thunderous and loud, unstoppable. The King is up and gesturing to his guard and barking orders. Something is happening. Jaskier wants to smile. Such agitation. It’s Yenna. She’s here. 

People are still screaming and guards are running everywhere. Jaskier wants to grin and it takes a lot of willpower to mask his glee even if he cannot do anything with his chained feet but sit in the main hall and wait. As suddenly as the screams have started, the doors blast open on their own, leaving their hinges with the power behind it. The windows’ panes shatter into a million pieces and melt back to molten glass marking the floor like rain on a lake’s surface. Those unfortunate to be close get burns and yells in pain, adding to the cacophony. People and creatures use all they can to protect themself, trying to be one with the wall with how flattened they are. Thankfully, that doesn’t last long. However, a heated wind rushes in. Jaskier feels like his skin could be burning, ashes are floating in the air and the smell of burnt flesh is now unmistakable. Jaskier watches through the openings how the sky gets black, like dark clouds before a storm but no it’s not a cloud, it’s fumes, as thick as a wall. And even from this distance, Jaskier can see a huge fire at the entrance of the city. The flames are high and confined to an area. It looks like an eruption. God, it’s hot where he is so what kind of inferno is out there?

Jaskier doesn’t want to burn alive. And Geralt?! He tries to pick his locks, frantically but without success. The King hides behind his throne like the coward and cad he is. 

“Guards!” He bemoans when a shadow grows at the entrance, a man with so much light behind him it’s impossible to discern his features. He raises his head and Jaskier gasps. His eyes are glowing like a pool of amber. He stares at them and it feels like being watched by the embodiment of fire. He takes a slow step forward, like he has all the time in the world. The ground vibrates and Jaskier feels the chaos, the power the man, the witcher, is exuding. It’s breathtaking. Their rescuer, because of course Yenna would call Geralt’s brethren to save them, makes a gesture with one hand, and the guards are blasted onto the wall like flies. He has magic at his fingertips. But Jaskier knows witchers are no mages. And yet, he makes it appear so easy to swat his enemies away. What would he show fighting a monster on a hunt? He must be a vision, as inspiring as Geralt is, surely. Jaskier feels the need to write him an ode. Jaskier is wide-eyed before the- the- Wolf because now that he’s closer, Jaskier can see the gleaming snarling wolf on his medallion. It seems like such an understatement to simply call him wolf, it’s not fit for his savior.

“Demon!”

That’s not what Jaskier would have called the witcher either, even if he weren’t being rescued. Neither fit with the sheer presence he gives. Jaskier would have thought he was a Griffin because Geralt told him once that they were the best at signs but the witcher is a Wolf which leaves only one name. Geralt called him Eskel , voice thick with an emotion Jaskier knows is love. What kind he hasn’t managed to understand but Eskel is Geralt’s brother, a trusted one, a dear one. Jaskier is safe.

“You have some things that belong to me.” the man says with a voice so deep it’s like an earthquake ripples the tiles of the palace. Jaskier is watching, gaping and gazing astonishingly at the witcher. 

At the same time, the captain of the guards runs to strike him from behind but another witcher with short red-hair grabs his sword-arm and knees him in the stomach. He’s big, broad shoulders and a few inches shorter than Eskel. His face is covered by ash and blood but he doesn’t have a bloodthirsty look. He seems calm and loyal if the speed on which he acts in defense of his kinsman is anything to go by. 

“Don’t.” he growls and Jaskier sees how the smirk on the scarred-face witcher grows. Jaskier grins in return and the witcher focuses on him, takes a deep breath and stares long, up and down, then nods in acknowledgment. 

“Lambert, find the keys to the little flower bard’s chains, would you?” He says. Fuck, it wasn’t a first time thing, his voice is striking. 

Another redhead steps inside the main hall, this one is leaner, with curly hair and a sneer on his face, his eyes are more orange and reflects beautifully in the fire behind them. Both red-haired witchers flank the blond one who seems to be the leader and those three are astonishingly good together. They paint a magnificent tableau. They’re lava in movement.

“I got it.” He chuckles and throttles the captain who shakily gives him a key.

“Good boy.” He taunts, clicking his tongue like one would chide a dog.

“Demons!” a noble mutters and three pairs of eyes look at him in disdain but don’t make a move toward him. Their gazes are enough to freeze him.

An old witcher, because he has wrinkles and gray hair, wearing a Wolf medallion as well, arrives with a bunch of witchers from different schools if Jaskier’s eyes are not deceiving him and fuck even mages to free them and tend to them. Once the chain is away from him, Jaskier dusts his clothes and stands a little wobbly. Witchers don’t seem to notice his near nakedness and Jaskier is grateful that they don’t judge. He had enough leering from nobles to last him a lifetime.

All the witchers, from the bulkiest to the tallest or smallest because they seem to come in all shape and form, move so gracefully. It’s hypnotizing. Another dozen witchers make the humans sit on their King’s side. The selkie is weeping with her pelt clutched in her hand. The witchers scatter around the place to stand guard.

“Master Witcher. I am Lyari, a  traveling merchant before my husband and son were taken by the King. Please, what price for freedom, my lord witcher?” The elf says, exhausted and pattern speech slow and in common.

“Witchers kill monsters. We’ll find our due somewhere in this opulent place.” Eskel says, kindly. “Triss, Coen, make sure they are treated for their injuries. Lambert, Gweld, guard the King. I’m going to find Geralt.”

“Yes, brother.” They both grin nastily. Two red-haired witchers for one breathing fire, it seems almost fated.

“Coming with you.” Says the old witcher and Eskel nods in thanks to whom Jaskier is pretty sure must be Vesemir, their father. The family and their cousins came. Jaskier never thought he would see so many witchers in one place. For traveling the Path alone, they seem quite united.

“In the prison. Basement.” Jaskier says, glaring daggers at the King. “His captain knows the way.”

“Is that so?” Eskel chuckles, his eyes wash over him in a clinical way as if to check injuries. His eyes are kind despite the magic still surrounding him. Jaskier can still feel it deep inside his bones. His heritage makes him chaos sensitive and this one’s energy is addicting. 

“Then, you’re coming with me.” Eskel sneers at the captain.

Another Wolf grabs the man quite tightly, enough to leave a nasty bruise and make him walk. When the amber-eyed witcher disappears with his kinsmen, the King seems to find his tongue again: “How dare you enter my city! You’re barbarians and shou-”

“Shut up!” Jaskier scolds angrily. “Nobody wants to hear you nor wants to be here anyway. You’re just a coward and a disgusting excuse of a human being. You’re the most despicable man I have the displeasure to meet and I know Valdo Marxx. I hope the Amber-Eyed Wolf and his brothers make you pay for your crimes. You’re more monstrous than those whose appearances made them non-humans!”

“Little flower.” Yennefer sighs in relief as soon as she enters the room.

“Yenna.” he sags in relief too when she hugs him. He knew as soon as the screams started that the rescue was on its way. His friend is here now. The reality makes him tear up in joy. He’s safe. Geralt will be by his side soon. 

A few minutes later, Amber-eyed Eskel is back with Geralt.

“Geralt.” Jaskier cries and rushes to his witcher.

“Jask.” He answers and clutches Jaskier very tightly. “My lark.”

“I thought the worst when they wouldn’t let me see you… Geralt, Geralt…” Jaskier repeats like a prayer.

“You’re safe.” Geralt murmurs, nuzzling and touching everywhere he can find. “My lark.”

“I’m the King! How dare you! I’m the third of my-”

“I do not care about your name. May it be lost to History. And this, a lesson for monsters in any shape or form to never cross a witcher’s Path.” Eskel says, voice ricocheting around the palace. 

“What are you doing, witchers, monsters are here!” another man points out to the non-humans.

“Hm…” 

Lambert grins and grabs the man and makes him kneel at Eskel’s feet. “Is that so. You’re right. I do see a monster. And I’m a witcher, I’d know one.”

“Chain them and put them in their prison, we’ll deal with them after all are safe and we’ve secured the city.”

“Aye!” a dozen voices chorus in obedient response.

“Their court mage?” Eskel asks Yennefer.

“Dealt with.” Yennefer answers, nose going up in disdain. “If one could call them a mage.”

“Nasty, my dear.” Jaskier grins.

“Only truthful.” She replies and Jaskier laughs, more nerve than joy.

“Well, we need a new King for Kaedwen.” Yennefer says to Eskel. “He needs to be from outside the city. None of them will do.”

“Spare us, Witcher Warlord, we had no choice but to follow him.” one woman says and weirdly, she is telling the truth.

“How dare you, I am your King!” He sputters even as he’s taken away to await judgment.

“You could have sent for help.” Eskel disrupts.

“Who?!” She cries. “Who would have helped? 

“Hm.” Eskel grunts and Jaskier understands that’s a family’s answer to: I don’t know how to react nor what to say so “hm” will have to do. It’s adorable!

“So Eskel?” Jaskier smiles at the man who he knows is very dear to his Geralt. “It’s a pleasure even if I would have liked different circumstances. I must say you’re magnificent.”

“Huh. He means it.” Gweld says, surprised.

“Of course I do. Or have you missed the entrance your brother made? All vengeful wrath and fire. Like a- Like a Dragon. A- Wolf, oh! Ooooh!”

“Composing again?” Geralt chuckles as he watches Jaskier looking for anything to write on but his clothes, if one could call it clothes, hides nothing, least Jaskier’s journal. Yennefer takes pity on him and waves her hand, making a paper and pen appear within his reach and then he’s kneeling on the dirty floor and scribbling notes and lyrics while Geralt sits by his side to guard him. 

Triss comes by their side shortly after: “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Hm.”

“A fae?” Vesemir mutters. 

“Hm.” Geralt hums. “He’s mine.”

“Then he’s mine as well. He’s safe.” Eskel promises. 

“Besides, Lambert brought a Cat so you’re not madder than him.” Gweld snickers.

“You have a fucking Viper as a lover, you can’t talk!” Lambert protests.

“You take after your father, pups.” Rennes sighs. 

“Huh, don’t remind me. Him and Gux…” Lambert moans like he’s in pain.

“C’mon love, that’s not so bad. At least our fathers get along.” another witcher with very pretty green eyes says, sashaying and touching the curly redhead.

“Oh.” Jaskier gasps. “I thought all witchers had yellow eyes.”

“Nope, only the puppies.” He smiles. “I’m Aiden of the Cats. And you’re?”

“Jaskier, the White Wolf’s bard and Path’s companion.” He answers, putting his lyrics safely against his chest.

“Food, bath then bed.” Eskel orders. “C’mon both of you.”

“Hm.” Geralt hums.

Chapter 3: A white wolf’s tale

Geralt’s life in Ard Carraigh is both painful and boring. He feels like he’s suffocating despite his abilities to keep his breath. The air in the basement is stale and foul. It smells like decay and rotting flesh. There is always noise from the reasoning bass of music, rustling of clothes, clicking of shoes or the kitchen’s staff working with pans. Geralt’s senses are better than his fellow kinsmen and it’s useful on hunts because he needs to rely a little less on potion to heightened his senses, he’s stronger, tougher and reacts faster but it’s also so hard to be around people. Jaskier has never understood what it felt to have a continuous headache or muscle soreness. The little bard was such a hindrance at first until his instinct latched onto him and then, Geralt was furious because he was terrified to lose him. That feeling should have been cut out during his Trials. What was broken in him, that it was still here? For a bard nonetheless, a stupid human who didn’t know when to quit! How was that fair?

The only blessing this place has is the darkness, Geralt can rest his eyesight. His hates the collar around his neck, but if it means Jaskier is safe, Geralt would endure the lack of food and the stench, the daily questioning from the mage who’s forbidden to do too much because if Jaskier is his reason to behave, Geralt is Jaskier’s. Weirdly, the King considered that Jaskier could do damage if he had no reason to play nice anymore. Geralt doesn’t understand why Jaskier says he’s a Panktraz, whatever it means but it seems to have prevented the worst from happening. 

Geralt has found a few ways to escape already. He can’t get rid of the collar or do signs but he’s stronger than he fellow witchers, perhaps as strong as a Bear but as agile as a Cat which makes him a more dangerous opponent. He could torn the bars with his hands or snap the neck of his guards, bite and torn the throat of the mage but he can’t do any of that without putting Jaskier at risk and Geralt will never be the cause of harm Jaskier might befall. So, he has to wait. He has already noticed how the sporadic meals are never brought with a pattern and how Jaskier never comes to him at the same time of the day… He would have lost the timeline  if it wasn’t for the bath Jaskier takes. It seems like his bard is on a schedule. So depending on the strongness of the perfume from the bath soap, Geralt knows the time. He needs to act at the right time. Jaskier never smells like blood which is a relief. Geralt can take his time to make an escape plan.

They only met an inconvenience when the King came dragging his bard by one antler, his hand protected by a glove and blood on his lips and on his royal attire. It seemed that his darling fae made him cough flowers to choke him and Geralt snarled at him because Jaskier smelled distress and too much like the begotten royal ass which means only one thing: he touched his lark. 

“Down beast.” The King had said followed by a lot of bullshit Geralt doesn’t remember. What he can recall is the way Jaskier’s scent had soured and the way he had launched himself at the man’s feet and begged. Geralt never wants to see Jaskier degrade himself in such a way, especially for him. It felt foul and Geralt felt like the biggest bastard, he’s not as creative as Lambert but he’ll ask him for the strongest insult he knows. His lark, on his knees with a torn chemise, looked too much like a poor maiden being sacrificed. Geralt also hated the way the King’s eyes had shone and the triumphant scent he had exuded.

Geralt will have his reckoning once he has an opportunity. He’s worried about Jaskier. The lark has found a way to be safe from unwanted touches but Geralt knows how Jaskier needs touches to be reassured he’s loved and safe. He’s going to struggle and Geralt hates it. He wishes they never set foot in this city. Geralt doesn’t care about the mage. He doesn’t like what she does but she has nothing on Yennefer or Triss, she’s mediocre. It hurts of course, but he’s more worried about Jaskier. If his bard becomes traumatized, Geralt doesn’t know what he will do. 

Fuck, but he misses his brothers. He doesn’t want them with him because that means they would be hurt, but Eskel would know what to do, he’s always so reliable and smart; Gweld is calm and patient, he would find a solution or keeps them from losing their minds and Lambert, their prickly wolf would have the best ideas to get out of here. Alas, Geralt is on his own and scared that something will happen to Jaskier. No. He can’t think like that, but he has nothing to do and everything hurts. Jaskier is always so far away when they let them see the other alive and it feels too long that Jaskier came down last time. It’s weird. Geralt doesn’t like that at all…

Awful noises reach him suddenly, yelling and a weird smell follows. Geralt has just been put back in his cell by the mage, and just needs a few hours to get his energy up to do anything. He should move but everything hurts. He tries to stand but his vision blackens. Fuck. He can't do anything yet.  Whatever is happening, it feels like Jaskier is on it. Geralt hopes he escapes at the very least. If Jaskier is safe, Geralt won’t have any reservation to do what he needs to be by his side again. Humans' lives won't matter. Vesemir can stick that particular lesson where the sun doesn't shine. He wants Jaskier. His lark will tell him it’s the right decision and his lark is a good person as long as the person is not Valdo Marxx. He chuckles. What did that bard do to him for Jaskier to be so nasty when talking about him, Geralt has no idea… 

The doors to the basement open and very light steps descend the stairs. The smell is so light, Geralt doesn’t know who is descending the stairs but the footsteps are barely there but for, it seems, one man who’s dragged in? Another prisoner?

“Geralt.” Eskel says very softly.

“Eskel?”

Is he dreaming? Fuck, it smells like Eskel. And there he is. His brother in all his glory, smelling of ashes and just like himself, the scent achingly familiar. Geralt has missed it, missed him. He’s even wearing his stupid red gambeson on his shoulder, he looks good even though he looks both angry and relieved to see him. What is his brother doing here?

“The keys.” Eskel snarls at the captain and then opens the doors, gets close to him, snaps the collar and hugs his brother tightly. “Are you injured? Can you move?”

“No. Yes.” Geralt answers. “Jaskier. Jaskier. Have you seen him? Is Jaskier-”

“Little fae bard?” Vesemir asks not unkindly but with his usual gruff manners.

“Hm.” Geralt nods.

“He’s good. Shocked but safe. I promised.” Eskel whispers in his ears and helps Geralt stand up. It appears his brother can’t help himself from alternating between smelling him and repeating Jaskier, Jaskier, Jaskier… Eskel is very well aware of who Jaskier is as if his brother didn’t smell heavily of him when he comes home for winter. And Eskel loves the bard’s songs, because they are good even if he never heard them straight from the source and because they have made the Path easier. 

“I’m bringing you back to your bard, brother. You’re both safe.” Eskel whispers again.

“Eskel… I”m s’ry.” Geralt mumbles. He’s leaning very heavily on him. That’s not good.

“Don’t. You would have done the same.” Eskel is quick to offer reassurance.

“Eskel, Eskel. Esk.” Geralt mumbles and nuzzles his cheeks, his involuntary stubble scratches on his scars but Eskel doesn’t complain. 

“Let’s go.”

Once they are inside the main hall, the bard rushes to them and hugs Geralt, saying his name so sweetly, Eskel feels like he’s intruding on a very intimate moment. Witcher have no shame, or fear, any of those useless emotions have been burnt away by the Trials and the training. In theory…

“Jask.” Geralt answers and clutches Jaskier’s clothes very tightly. “My lark.”

“I thought the worst when they wouldn’t let me see you… Geralt, Geralt…” Jaskier repeats like a prayer.

“You’re safe.” Geralt murmurs, nuzzling and touching everywhere he can find. “My lark.” he repeats for the pleasure of being able to feel his lark’s heartbeat against his palm. 

“I’m the King! How dare you! I’m the third of my-”

“I do not care about your name.” Eskel snarls and Geralt has never heard his brother with such a vicious voice. He shouts some more words but Geralt is too focused on his bard’s breathing pattern to care. Eskel is by his side and has everything under control, he can rest and just bask in the presence of his bard and his dearest friend. He hears Yennefer’s voice and they both exchange a look full of gratitude on his part and relief on hers.

“So Eskel?” Jaskier says, managing to dislodge his face from Geralt a little so he can look around. “It’s a pleasure even if I would have liked different circumstances. I must say you’re magnificent.”

“Huh. He means it.” Gweld says.

“Of course I do. Or have you missed the entrance your brother made? All vengeful wrath and fire. Like a- Like a Dragon. A- Wolf, oh! Ooooh!”

“Composing again?” Geralt chuckles as he watches Jaskier looking for anything to write on. Yennefer takes pity on him and waves her hand, making a paper and pen appear within his reach and then he’s kneeling on the dirty floor and scribbling notes and lyrics while Geralt sits by his side. He needs to touch his bard as much as his bard needs his touch. And seeing him being himself is a relief much stronger than him just being alive. Geralt was terrified he would be traumatized. They probably will have nightmares, Geralt knows he already does and if the dark eyes Jaskier has on his face are any indication, he does as well.

Triss - she is here too? - comes by their side shortly after: “We have to stop meeting like this.”

“Hm.”

Huh? Is that Rennes? Fuck, there are a lot of witchers here, even a fucking Cat. How did Eskel reunite that many of them in such a short time? How did he know to come and that they needed help?

“Oh.” Jaskier gasps. “I thought all witchers had yellow eyes.”

“Nope, only the puppies.” He smiles. “I’m Aiden of the Cats. And you’re?”

“Jaskier, the White Wolf’s bard and Path’s companion.” He answers, putting his lyrics against his chest to protect them. Geralt wraps his arms on him. He misses him so much.

“Food, bath then bed.” Eskel orders. “C’mon both of you.”

“Hm.”

*

Jaskier is astonished to see his bags inside a beautiful huge room, with an inviting bathtub with hot water. he hasn’t had the chance to have a hot bath since arriving but fuck, Geralt needs it more and he can’t expect him to wait.

“Go on, little fae.” Eskel says. “I’ve to check Geralt first, even if Triss healed him. I need-”

“Of course, dear Eskel.” Jaskier smiles, and rummages through his bag and makes a cute victorious sound when he finds what he was looking for. Both witchers' gazes snaps to him but he acts as if he’s alone. He’s not scared. Geralt is his witcher and Eskel is probably just as safe to be around. He doesn’t care about modesty because Geralt and him are quite intimate, and because when you travel you have better things to care about. Besides, his clothes are so white they are nearly transparent. He disrobes and makes quick works on his washing, he uses his favorite soap and sighs, sounds halfway to a moan that has both witchers distract again. Geralt looks adoringly at this lark and Eskel is watching both of them with a thoughtful look on his face. Geralt nuzzles his brother again and Eskel continues to help Geralt out of his clothes and checks his body himself. When he’s satisfied everything is good or will heal properly, he sighs in relief and hugs his brother again.

They must be quite the sight, two grown men hugging desperately at each other, one naked, the other clothed.

“Hm.” Jaskier coughs. “Not that the sight isn’t a vision from one of my fantasies, but the bath is ready.” 

Eskel breathes the very mild pleasant odor of jasmine. It’s barely there but softly wraps the room in its flagrance without attacking their senses. It’s good.

Geralt moves and sinks into the water, closing his eyes with relief. He wets his hair and Jaskier comes at his back to massage his scalp and distangles his locks very gently, then he helps Geralt washes. His movements are practiced and they move in sync. It’s a very enticing sight. 

“We’ll have to change the water for you.” Jaskier says suddenly then moves to give Geralt a big towel to dry off.

“Hm. I can wash with those buckets.” Eskel shrugs, not particularly caring about how he washes the day’s worries away.

“Absolutely not.” Jaskier denies. “You’ll use the bathtub, and I’ll wash you. Please.” 

“Alright, li’l songbird.” Eskel agrees and continues to watch them.

Geralt is wrapped in the towel, sitting on a stool, Jaskier has found a comb and is very gently combing his hair again. “There, love.” Jaskier whispers with a voice so full of love, Eskel closes his eyes.

Eskel is going to ask for servants to change the water to distract himself from the ache in his chest when his medallion vibrates. He tenses, responding immediately to the potential threat.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I should have warned you." Jaskier breathes out, both hands into the water that now shines as the clearest stream. Eskel makes a negative with his head. "You're good songbird. I'm still a little-."

"Come relax then." He says. "May I help you disrobe?"

"I have it." Eskel answers, voice halfway strangled.

"Pity." Jaskier mumbles barely audibly.

Eskel goes into the water and this time, Jaskier doesn't ask permission. Oh, he gives ample time for Eskel to refuse but he nods his consent. And he can understand why Geralt went limp when Jaskier put his fingers on him. He’s washing his hair and massaging his scalp. And it’s so good. The sensation is electrifying. He knows the little fae has magic but his medallion doesn’t hum this time and he can still feel himself going boneless.

“Good, hm?” Geralt whispers. And fuck, it’s so good to hear Geralt tease. He shaved while his eyes were closed. How much time has passed?

“Just a few minutes.” Jaskier whispers.

“Fuck, but you got talented hands.” Eskel groans.

“Why, thank you.” Jaskier giggles. 

“Wait till he plays music.” Geralt compliments. “It’s nice.”

“It must be.” Eskel agrees and nearly purrs. This is bliss.

“There, darling Wolf, all clean.”

“Hm.” 

Once they are clean and wearing comfortable clothes, Geralt rests on the headboard and Jaskier nests himself between his tights, his back to his witcher’s chest who wraps his arms around him. 

“C’mon Eskel, puppies piles.” Jaskier giggles, holding out his hand to invite Eskel to join them. Thankfully, he’s not as stubborn as Geralt and comes easily and while he stays on their side, touching both of them and nuzzling Geralt then Jaskier, he stays alert.

“Sleep. Nothing will get you while I’m here.”

“A dragon guarding his hoard.” Jaskier croons and yawns then falls asleep.

Eskel raises an eyebrow and Geralt can’t help a corner of his lips to go up at his bard’s silliness. He closes his eyes as well and sighs. He’s safe. They are safe. Eskel is here.

Eskel goes up a moment later to find a blanket and wraps them snugly together and opens the doors. On the other side are Gweld and Lambert playing a game of gwent on the floor while Aiden is resting his head on Lambert’s back. Serrit is standing, leaning against the wall and watching the game, but Eskel knows she’s surveying the corridor.

They all lift their heads.

“All’s good?” Gweld asks.

“Yes.” Eskel answers. “They are asleep. Fuck, what a mess.”

Lambert is going to answer when they hear footsteps. They watch the poor servants walking with food in their hands.

“My lords.” the oldest says. “Food, sent by Lady Yennefer.”

“Thanks.” Eskel says, as kindly as he knows how but they still flinch from his face.

“We got it.” Aiden intervenes and takes the plates, smells and nods as it is not poisoned and brings it inside the room. 

“Just go.” Eskel sighs, when he sees they are not moving from their spot. They bow and walk as fast as they are allowed, leaving behind their fear all over the corridor.

“Humans.” Gweld says. “Eskel, don’t take it to heart.”

Lambert chuckles when he sees the wrapping of Geralt and bard on the bed, but Gweld slaps his head and tuts him. He sits and begins to eat. They speak and eat about their last few months when Vesemir knocks on the door.

“Come in.”

“Pups, Viper.” Vesemir greets them and makes a weird face when he sees the sleeping men, but doesn’t say anything. Behind him are Yennefer and the School’s Heads.

Yennefer goes to the bed, and sits, caressing a stray strand of hair out of Jaskier’s forehead. She does the same with Geralt then turns to them.

“There will be consequences.”

“I know.” Eskel sighs, tired all of a sudden. “But I don’t regret it.” He admits.

“Neither do we.” Merten says. “It was time humans, nobles in particular learnt that witchers aren’t at their beck and call to do what they please, ask our help then hurt us just after…”

“So, what are we doing now?” Treyse asks. “We won't be able to go back from what things were. All the school in a single place and you burnt down the city’s gate and the outer wall, fuck that was quite the Igni. We knew we needed change but this is-”

“Unprecedented” Ivar offers. 

“I concur.” Keldar says. “What do we say to our brethren?”

“Any decision I take, it will be followed by my School.” Artek says, voice very deep, unused to speak a lot.

“So Eskel.” 

“Why ask me?” Eskel tenses, looking startled.

“You started this and to be honest, you’re terrifying.” Stefan of the Cranes explains without any shame or jealousy. He’s too old to care about that kind of bullshit, it’s a fact. If he was prone to lose his temper, he wouldn’t be alive.

“I am?” Eskel sputters. “I’m just a witcher.’

‘Who called forth an inferno like mage cannot summon in fear of losing their chaos. Fire magic is forbidden for a reason.” Yennefer says. 

“Alright.” Eskel breathes deeply. The room smells of jasmine, Geralt and Jaskier, he finds those smells easily between all others. They call to him like sailors to a siren. Then, Eskel can discern Gweld and his Serrit; Lambert and his Aiden. He would have never met them without those circumstances. He knows it. Lambert had never dared bring Aiden to the Keep and talked about him only while very plastered. Gweld had never hinted at being in a relationship, or such a strong friendship because it’s hard to tell, but the love is here somewhere and needs time to bloom. And Vesemir, his father who chose his pups over anything else, who helped rebuild the Keep after the pogrom who nearly took them out. Only sheer luck made so many wolves survive the night. Eskel knows what he wants and he has the ears of every single Schools’ Heads.

When he opens his eyes again, his expression is determined. 

“This is what we’re gonna do.”

Chapter 4: History remade from its ashes

Notes:

That plot bunny ate too much carrots... It was supposed to be a one-shot and now has a big plot ahead...
Not betaed. I hope you enjoy the read.

Eskel doesn’t know whose idea it was - lies - or why he let himself be convinced or led there - denial - but now he’s sitting in the King’s previous throne… Like he has any right to be there. He has agreed to be the witchers' voice while they are in Ard Carraigh since he called them here. His proposal to bring them back to Kaer Morhen has been approved so they can rest and hash out their future. He has agreed to be all the witchers' spokerman until they come up with a better idea about what to do with witchering but why the fuck is he on the previous King’s throne? He never said he wanted to be considered a King. He's just the representative…

Just-

Fuck, the Schools’ heads are smart fuckers, they didn’t want to lead them all because they barely manage their own school and now Eskel, just a witcher has to be their- leader? They made him the figurehead officially… He will be thought of, known as more than the one who simply led the witchers inside Ard Caraigh. That he did enter the city like a fucking maniac is besides the point. He’s just a witcher. He’s- Fuck! He’s not as creative as Lambert with expletives so it’s going to be boring quite fast to panic with only one or two words… Damn. He’s supposed to be smart and here he is: sitting on a throne… 

And how does one talk to those kneeling humans? Assholes and monsters but still… What is he supposed to say to them? And more importantly, what does he say to the others? How does he explain this ? 

He knows those supposed human-leaders need to die for daring to attack witchers. He needs to set a precedent so this mess doesn’t happen again. Witchers have never attacked humans before because they were scared to be wiped out. And they nearly were. And they still continued to be bullied into being paid barely enough for gears while eating rotten food and being chased by rocks everywhere. Why did they let it go so far, for so long? Eskel cannot find it to regret his choice to do anything in his power to save Geralt and Jaskier. And by extension, the many creatures that even witchers don’t hunt because they are just there and do no harm. The dangerous ones were dealt with by a group of Cranes, best attackers from a distance. It’s nice to be able to rely on someone's strength instead of making do.

Eskel resting face is thankfully a scold because of his damaged lips. The scars also make it hard to look at him without staring so people are as uneasy as they can be, awaiting for a decision from the witcher that was called Warlord or Demon yesterday, the one that is listened to by his fellow witchers. It paints a pretty picture, even if Eskel doesn't want this leading bullshit. He never intended to be a Warlord either. He has no idea what to say…

“What has our Dragon Wolf decided to do with those oathbreakers?” Jaskier proclaims, voice projecting far into the room as he stands just before the dais and the throne, one stair down from Eskel, close to his side, that Eskel can breathe in the flower, ink and paper scent Jaskier radiates. It's a truly good scent to have near, of course Geralt couldn't truly get rid of it. That the bard is pretty and kind only adds to the need to keep him close.

“They will be executed." Eskel answers with a cold voice. "We send a clear message to every misguided fools like them, that it's a very bad idea to cross witchers.” Eskel says, voice harsh.

“So be it.“ Jaskier says with a flourish. “To the main gates, call the people and make them watch what happens when a King breaks the truce to leave witchers out of politics, when a King attacks one of us, when a man becomes a monster.”

The nobles and servants gathered in the room watched the preceding with astonished faces. First, because they now have the time to look at the witcher Warlord and realize the high numbers of his army of enhanced men; two because the King who has made their life a living hell is shackled, three because they aren’t being punished with the King, four because nobody touched them as war prizes. They are safe and are beginning to realize that. Witchers seem totally disinterested in them. They barely give him a glance. The feeling is dampened by their uncertain future. What is going to happen after the King is dead?

“Aye!” the witchers shout. Cats being the loudest of the lot, those crazy witchers.

Eskel stands and walks to the entrance of the palace at an unhurried pace. It seems like Eskel is someone who enjoys taking his time and not rushing things. Jaskier thinks it suits him, or it may be that some witchers have no patience and are fast so in contrast Eskel appears slower. 

The palace’s entrance stands above the city with a perfect view over the assembled people coming to watch what is happening. They are still terrified and the whole place, being outdoors doesn't change the fact that it reeks of fear with a fair dose of curiosity. From this vantage point, the hole Eskel made to enter is a huge, ugly and deformed thing. The whole area is as black as charcoal with a layer of discontinued gleaming silver like metal and stain marks from the flames, the nearest building's faces have melted and look like a frozen liquid monstrosity. Many - if not all - houses' windows have been blasted away by the raw power of the magical flames and the few Aard Eskel used. It seems like both a fire and a tornado made their way through the city. Eskel is non-pulsed by the mess he made. The tight oppressive fear he felt is still too recent.

Eskel is standing tall, hair pulled back, chin high and his piercing gaze surveys the crowd. Both Yennefer and Jaskier insisted that Eskel should be proud, otherwise the humans would step into the breach and all would be for naught. 

On his right, stand Gweld, red-hair and beard catching the sun rays and making it glow. His presence is like a wall of calm and serenity that keeps Eskel from panicking and disappearing into the wild. On his left, stand Lambert, curly red-hair and stubble framing his fierce grinning smile. Eskel can count on him to have his back. A few steps behind stands Yennefer, Jaskier and Geralt, and a semicircle of the Schools Heads stands behind them like a wall. They all look the perfect picture Yenna and Jaskier wanted to paint. They are both planning the next step because the witchers for all their years don't know how to deal with a crowd, with the Continent's people.

Eskel takes a step toward the citizens.

The King pisses himself in fright, when Eskel walks beside him and the two witchers keeping a hold on him laugh even if they are disgusted. Eskel doesn't give him an ounce of attention.

“Today, we take the life of your King for being a monster who enjoys torturing people, who has made honorable souls into slaves and taken what was not his to take. I won’t lead you, a new fair and good King will take his place and we’ll go home. Witchers kill monsters, so we’ll end the life of one today. We have no quarrel with you. We want to be left in peace.”

Rennes gives Eskel his sword and with one swift move, behead the King and with a too fast to see sign, burns the body. Jaskier watches, with satisfaction, as the monster-King turns to ashes.

‘Keep watch in the city.” Eskel whistles to his fellow witchers and goes back inside and sags into the throne. “Find me a new worthy King. I want to go home.”

“Such a splendid display.” Jaskier coos and Geralt hushes him, he knows Jaskier can be a little too much for those not used to him or those like Eskel who prefers calm to messes. Jaskier moves all the time and makes noises even in his sleep. Geralt likes to have someone whose attention is always on him, but Geralt knows his brother wouldn’t appreciate it and Geralt wants Eskel to like Jaskier. For the record, he already does.

“I found the registry yesterday and have been reading it. We have a few options.” Bianca exclaims happily, making her way to Eskel. “We can proceed by order and portal them here to see who’s worthy.”

“Witcher Warlord.” The same woman  as the day before greets with a deep bow. “May I be so bold as to propose  Syzmon? If anyone is good and has no idea of what transpires here, it would be him. He’s young but he’s wise.”

“Do so, find this Syzmon first. If he’s unfit, we’ll use the registry. Is that man among your list?” Eskel orders when it seems the mage is waiting for his say so.

“He is, my lord.”

“Good. Yennefer, if you would.”

“Of course, Dragon Wolf.” She teases but dutifully opens a portal.

Eskel can barely remember the speech he gives to Syzmon or the time it takes but in the end, Syzmon is crowned King of Kaedwen because he told no lies and seems worthy. Eskel just wants to be gone from Ard Carraigh, so as soon as the crown has been put on his head, Eskel leaves. 

Scorpion and him are going up the mountain to Kaer Morhen on their own and the others can deal with whatever needs to be dealt with. He needs peace and calm to think.

“Is Eskel alright?” Jaskier asks worriedly.

“Hm.” Geralt hums positively. “Don’t worry. He’s traveling home. We’re going there too.”

“I am?”

“You’re never leaving my side again.” Geralt swears and kisses Jaskier hungrily.

“Is the Warlord displeased?” Syzmon asks very worriedly.

“No.” Gweld says. “My brother is, indeed, very pleased but needs to take care of other matters. Surely you understand?”

“Of course. May I- May some of the Warlord’s men stay stationed for a little while, to make sure the transition goes smoothly?”

“Good idea.” Vesemir agrees. “We’ll ask who wants to stay.”

“I’ll stay to be King Syzmon’s court mage if he allows it?” Bianca asks with a bow.

“It would be greatly appreciated.”

“Then, I’ll stay here. Do take care of yourselves sisters, Istredd.”

“Take care.” Yennefer says. “We are but a portal away.” She adds, word close to a threat.

“Thank you, master witchers. I must confess I didn’t get your names…” King Syzmon says very respectfully, clearly not used to his new rank or just intimidated.

“I am Vesemir, the Warlord’s father and these are his brothers: Gweld and Lambert.”

“Oh. My deepest apolo-”

“Cut the bullshit, we don’t mind.” Lambert says, waving his hand like it’s not a big deal which is not.

“Of course, your Grace.”

“Grace? Fuck no. I’m Lambert. Lam-bert. No title.”

Many Wolves and Cats snicker and repeat “Your Grace”, too low for humans’ ears but Lambert hears them and glares at them nastily. He knows they are going to tease him about it.

“Surely the Dragon Wolf’s brother cannot be just Lambert?” Syzmon chokes out.

“He sure as hell can.” Lambert growls.

“Don’t mind my little brother.” Gweld smiles, the patience of the family. “Our little one is as fierce as our Eskel but he doesn't like to beat around the bush.”

“I understand.” The newly appointed King says cautiously. 

“Little one? Hm. Dragon… Dragonnet. It’s going to sound so perfect.” Jaskier mutters and Geralt chuckles by his side.

*

They all travel back by a portal, Yennefer opens one with the mages she manages to convince to join. She knew it would lead to the witchers having no choice but to group as one unit. It’s going to be a turn in History. Of course, she’s in the middle of it with the main protagonists. They open a portal close to the Blue Mountain but the Wolves refuse to have one directly inside Kaer Morhen. Yennefer understands the warryness and doesn’t begrudge them the climbing they’ll need to do. 

“It’s a three day climb, we can’t ride the horses all the way, and we have to pass the Killer.” Geralt says in his non-sequitur way.

“The Killer?” Jaskier gasps worryingly at the name.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you.” Geralt is quick to reassure.

“It’s used as a training course and kills a lot of boys so the Killer.” Lambert explains and walks faster to be a little ahead of them on the line. Aiden follows hot on his heels. Vesemir and Barmin are the one leading them and are already too far for Jaskier to see, then Wolves are dispersed at regular intervals to help their cousins stay on the right path. Geralt and Jaskier bring up the rear, not because they aren’t important but because Geralt would know and hear any words from ahead. 

The first few hours, they ride for the most part, they are following a trail that it seems can only be seen by witchers because Jaskier doesn’t know in which direction to look to find a clear trail. They truly seem to be going in a random direction.

“Our nose.” Geralt says when he sees Jaskier’s expression. His lark nods in thanks but doesn’t add anything else. They stop and disperse, each school making a close unit to guard each other. Jaskier is exhausted. He’s not used to riding for such a long time.

“Old man.” Lambert says. “Aiden and I are going ahead to open the Gates. No sense in us staying here.”

“Take a few wolves with you.”

“Not trusting me?”

“I’m giving you more hands to work, son, take it.” Vesemir sighs.

“Hm.” Lambert nods then whistles for a few wolves he can stand like Aubry and takes more Cats with him to Vesemir’s dismay. 

“You raised a fox.” Guxart laughs.

“Feral little shit.” Vesemir agrees. “But a good witcher.”

“Of course, he is. He’s your son.” Guxart gushes and Vesemir looks bashful again, coughs and goes looking for woods.

Jaskier finds the witchers to be literally very puppy-like, regardless of their school. He might wait to know them more before pointing that out. From Geralt’s pout - not that it looks like one - his witcher knows what just transpired in his mind. He’s still humming his new song when one witcher comes very close to him. It’s a Crane. 

“So you’re the famous Jaskier, the witchers’ bard.”

“Usually I’m called the White Wolf’s bard but yes I do sing about witchers.” 

“And you’re not scared of us?”

“Should I?” Jaskier replies in soft but a serious tone.

“Thought you would be with you being a fae.”

“I’m not.” Jaskier answers. “Scared of you, that is.”

The Crane smiles and leaves without another word but seems more relaxed now. Jaskier notices that a lot of them seem genuinely curious and calmer with Jaskier’s answer. Because Jaskier knows that witchers' senses help them read people or more like read their pheromones and thus the truth behind their words. Jaskier is aware that as long as he believes in something, it will be the truth to him and so his body will react accordingly. He has never been scared of witchers.

A group of Manticores and Cats are back and chatting about the best way to hunt a type of monster whose name is eluding Jaskier at the moment, but it’s not what’s important. No, the important bit is that they are talking about a subject over which they can bond. There have never been so many witchers in one place and never so many witchers from different schools in such close proximity. That they are not fighting yet is a miracle in itself.

Yennefer is sitting by his side and leaning heavily on him. She used a lot of magic in the span of two days and is exhausted. 

“New song?” She whispers.

Jaskier has always been so safe to be around because he’s not using them. He could have hurt them and never did. The fae’ ancestry was quite the revelation. It was buried so deep, even she missed it. She was so certain, he was human and thus couldn’t harm her, but he can. He just never wanted to. She’s surprised that with the bloodthirsty lineage of his, he was so, well, tame wouldn’t be the correct adjective but perhaps nice, kind?

Yes, Jaskier is kind. It’s so easy to be his friend and it’s so good to have his love shining for you. Yennefer doesn’t need to be anyone but herself with Jaskier, she can be the ugly girl from before, the weakling of Aretuza and the powerful sorceress she became. Yennefer can be all of her and Jaskier loves her. His friendship is a balm to her broken soul. She understands why Geralt loves the bard, loves him so fiercely and strongly he lashed out in fear on that mountain.  

The witchers are in for a treat. Jaskier is going to love them all and Yennefer has no doubt that they will lap it up eagerly and never let their little flower come to harm. Oh, Yennefer pities the sorry soul that would dare think ill of Jaskier once the witchers are all properly under the Dragon Wolf’s banner. Jaskier did a marvelous job naming Eskel such a prestigious and dreadful creature. It fits terribly well. And from the words he mutters here and there while she rests on his shoulder, Lambert is going to hate his: Dragonnet. It’s both cute and nightmarish. What is he going to find for Gweld who’s definitely going to be the Right Hand of the Witcher Warlord if Syzmon’s reaction was anything to go by. Yennefer can’t wait to see how they’ll behave once it’s settled that Eskel is the leader of all witchers and that witchers are now an army and Kaer Morhen the capital of their power. How naive those grown men are. She finds it amusing and chuckles very quietly.

“Yenna?”

“I can’t wait for-”

“Oh, me neither.” He giggles and they end up looking like two crazy children snickering without a way to stop.

“Your friends are weird.” Gweld says to Geralt.

“Hm.” Geralt smiles.

“Huh? You’re besotted. That’s not even funny.”

“So a Viper?” Geralt asks.

“A fae?”

“Hm.”

“Good for you.”

*

The next day, they travel without hiccup and settle their camp like the previous day. Jaskier is sleeping soundly in Geralt’s arms, he has his face pressed to Geralt’s chest. The witcher’s arms are wrapped around Jaskier. Jaskier is mumbling softly in his sleep and Geralt seems dead to the world. Fellow Wolves are surprised by the ease Jaskier makes Geralt fall asleep when he’s known for being an insomniac. 

Very light footsteps come closer and they think nothing about it, those are witchers’ footsteps and it’s not like there aren’t group patrolling, but Geralt sits abruptly, hand shots up to catch the forearm of a Viper: Letho.

“Huh? You’re still fast.” He says nonplussed.

“Letho.” Geralt growls in warning.

“Wanted to know if you got slow, reeking of love like you do.”

“Letho!” Serrit hisses. “What the fuck?”

“G’lt?” Jaskier mumbles.

“Hush, you’re safe.” Geralt whispers without looking away from Letho. Some Wolves have come closer at the threat, swords in hand.

“Easy boys.” Serrit says, standing away from Gweld who frowns but let her deal with her own damn brother. “Letho is being a shithead, but he wouldn’t have hurt the bard.” She slaps the back of his head. “You want them to distrust us even more.” She scolds.

“I just wanted to know.” Letho explains.

“Curiosity is supposed to kill the Cat, not the Viper. Melitele’s tits.”

“What can you do?” Dragonfly chuckles. “Boys will be boys.”

Dragonfly is cuddling with Aiden and Lambert who allows the cuddle since in the caravan, space is often an issue, Aiden grew up this way and Lambert doesn’t care. He won’t feel less himself for indulging the Cats. He was a guest in the Caravan and the Cats bullied him until it’s so ingrained in his habit, he doesn’t realize he is their puppy. Well, Aiden’s puppy thus theirs too.

“Damn right.” Serrit sighs and shrugs.

“T-ss … coins…”

“Is he singing in his sleep?” Aiden giggles.

“He is.” Lambert confirms.

They all sober up very quickly when Jaskier whimpers and his scent goes sourer than a rotten fruit. His hand is patting around and Geralt releases Letho’s and grabs Jaskier’s fingers.

“I’m here.”

“Geralt…”

“Hm.” Letho hums thoroughly when the sickening potent scent of warm bread goes up again. “Lucky fucker.”

“Letho!” Ivar hisses when comes to the Wolf camp at a brisk trot. “What are you doing?”

“It’s solved.” Rennes says with a warning tilt to his voice. “It won’t happen again, right?”

“It won’t.” Letho nods and leaves under his School Head’s watch. Ivar nods at Serrit, the Wolves and the few Cats being in the Wolves’ camp and walks back to his own school camping site.

*

“Alright, listen up.” Vesemir’s voice rang in the mountain. “Even experienced witchers have died there so no acrobatics, no shit, no nothing. You don’t tease or play in this part. Keep’s on the other side and I want no pyre.”

“Aye!”

*

Geralt and Jaskier arrive last. Geralt doesn’t truly care to look at the old Keep since he’s used to it, he’ll notice the change once he’s more rested. Jaskier on the other hand is looking at the old castle-like building with awe and a huge sense of respect. It’s not just a random place. This is the home of the Wolf witchers. How much history has these walls seen? The fortress is made of darkish rocks and seems to defy the mountain itself to make it crumble. It's standing above the valley, proud but so terribly alone… Like witchers are. Jaskier finds it sad. Witchers were made for Humanity; made in such a painful way and then once they were reborn, they were used and rejected for being different. It was so unfair.

“Jask?” Geralt asks when he smells his lark smelling of melancholy. “Don’t.” He says, forcefully, because he never wants Jaskier to be sad. He doesn’t want Jaskier to go there… 

“I love you.” Jaskier whispers as a non-sequitur. His scent goes to warm bread in an instant and then spikes with honey and Geralt rolls his eyes. 

“I saw that witcher!” Jaskier scolds.

“My lark.” Geralt whispers back and dismounting, takes hold of Jaskier hand to kiss the back. “My beautiful bard, pretty fae, horny thing. I love you.” He says so softly, Jaskier mostly feels the words against his skin and it makes him shivers. His heart skips a beat and his honey scent gets even sweeter. “C’mon.” Geralt clears his throat and leads both horses to the stable. Once inside, Geralt picks Jaskier up, the ridiculous man and sits him on a bench to take care of their mounts. They put both Roach and Pegasus in her usual spot in the stable. Geralt stays a little to explain to his mare that yes, she has to share her space. Jaskier finds that absolutely adorable. They stay a little longer than necessary and thus when they enter the main hall, tables are already full of witchers, and some are left standing. Geralt leads Jaskier to a spot near the Wolves and puts him on his lap.

Vesemir stands on a chair and whittles, sharp and deafening.

“We’ll need to make new tables and share space for tonight, Lambert and Aiden will give you where you’re going to be for tonight and then tomorrow, we’ll need to plan it better. Don’t forget that the Keep is crumbling. Half of this place is inhospitable. Just eat and then we’ll talk tomorrow.”

“Aye.”

The meal - if one could call bread and dry meat a meal, well it’s a witcher’s one with at least good ingredients - has been prepared by Aiden and everyone but Lambert who could boil water to the point of melting the pot. Aiden never understood how his darling wolf could manage that not once, not twice but enough times that Aiden forbade him from cooking on the Path. The man could make improvements and potions with his eyes closed but he couldn’t cook to save his life. Thanks fuck Aiden loves to cook. Anyway, witchers eat the meal, only Yennefer and Jaskier share a look of profound dismay at the food but don’t say anything. The mages also stay quiet. They don’t wish to draw attention to them, they are well aware how cautious witchers are treating them and how it could potentially end badly.

It takes some time to decide who will sleep where but they all finally disappear somewhere inside the Keep, probably sharing space and just crashing in the nearest available spot. Witchers are not difficult.

Notes:

Thank you so much for your subscriptions, bookmarks, kudos, comments. It keeps the bunny running!

Chapter 5: Kaer Morhen

Notes:

This chapter was truly hard to write… But I guess, it should be ok now. I’ll post it now, otherwise, I will never find the right mindset to share it…
I hope you enjoy it.

[Not betaed, English is not my Native language]

The next morning, Gweld is up very early and ready to face up the mess that today is going to be. The first day of witchers being in one place without a clear goal, contract or hunt. All schools in Kaer Morhen during Spring. Gweld never thought he would see the day. And now that it has come, he doesn’t know how that will work out. They are all very territorial and some have bad blood between them… But there have been weird alliances already like between Lambert and Aiden. A Wolf with a fucking Cat, that’s such a Lambert thing to do to say fuck it all and just go as his heart dictate. Their little brother is a marvel. Gweld won’t say it to the lad, he would just scoff even if it would please him in equal measure. Lambert is just like that… 

Gweld doesn’t have the time to linger. In Eskel’s absence, he has to take the lead… Geralt isn’t fully recovered and has to take care of his bard. There’s no way witchers would listen to a mage even if Yennefer is respected with how powerful she is. And it’s not a question that Lambert won’t do it. Gweld knows Vesemir will help but he won’t take the lead either, which leaves, well: him… Gweld sighs. Eskel has decided to hide somewhere until he sorts his own thoughts, so Gweld will make sure everything is under control. He leaves Serrit still asleep in his bed. Gods, Serrit in his bed in Kaer Morhen… “Ok, man move.”

He meets Vesemir and Guxart already in the kitchen, whispering and halfway through eating their breakfast.

“Morning.”

“Pup.” Vesemir greets and pushes some food in front of him.

“We need to repair the Keep.” Vesemir says, first thing after he sips more of his tea.

“We do. Let’s hope the Bears are as strong as rumored.” Gweld says.

“We are.” Artek says with his gruff voice, as he steps inside.

“Cats are good climbers. We can help with the roof or high up anyway.” Guxart provides softly.

“We’d rather go with restocking our potion.” Merten says, arriving with Leocadie. 

A few seconds later, the Head of each school is at the kitchen’s table and they are trying to come up with a plan to make sure the Keep can hold them all.

“Hm. We need new benches and tables, we’ll have to find who can cook, restock our potion, hunt, prepare for an attack from the humans…” Vesemir grunts.

“Calm yourself, Ves. It’s going to be ok.” Gweld says. ”Right?” Gweld adds in the corridor's way.

“I agree. With so many witchers and mages, we’ll make fast work.” Yennefer says, non-pulse at having been heard as she approaches.

“Witch.”

“Witchers.” She smiles and takes what she needs to eat and drink tea without the use of magic. “I won’t do anything to you that may harm any of you. I care about Jaskier and Geralt or I wouldn’t have called Eskel. I’m strong, but no suicidal. Though if I had known Eskel was that strong we could have taken Ard Carraigh together… Still, having back-up was splendid.” She smiles.

“What’s your goal?”

“I want my friends to be safe.”

“And?” Guxart presses.

“I’m not here to do anything nefarious to you. I want a place here because I know what we did is going to change the world. I want in.” She answers.

“And experiment on witchers?” Treyse asks, his sentence coming out as a threat.

“No.” Yennefer says. “I have no need to make new witchers. You on the other hand… If you wish anyone to help you with that, ask Triss. She’s a healer. Her life goal is to help make things better.”

“You’re telling the truth.” Keldar rumbles.

“I am. I see no reason to lie to someone who can smell it anyway.” she chuckles. 

When Vesemir can hear more and more witchers in the main hall, he says: “Gather the mages, we’ll meet in the main hall. I’ll whistle for the witchers still asleep.” Vesemir smirks, Gweld winces. Vesemir is a trainer, he knows how to wake the Keep…

“Alright.”

*

In the same fashion as the day before, the hall is packed. It’s a huge place so to be honest, there’s room, it’s just weird for wolves to see this place with so many people. This feeling is also accentuated because they have a lot of jumbles a little everywhere. It’s quite a mess… 

“Alright.” Vesemir starts, because he’s kind of Eskel’s father, so the other wolves told him to take responsibility for raising him… Traitors… “With our move against the Monster King of Kaedwen, we cannot go back to our previous ways without risking being definitely wiped out. We’ll have to stick together for a while and as you can see, Kaer Morhen needs repair here and there: wall, outerwall, roof, courtyard, training grounds.  We’re missing a part of the East wing… and the stable needs to be extended… We need food, herbs, supplies, armor repaired, and weapons. We might also be attacked by humans…”

Vesemir lets his kinfolks mutter and whisper before continuing: “We’ll make teams for each task. As we're in Kaer Morhen and more used to the grounds, each team will be led by a Wolf. Then once you get more familiar with the place, we’ll revalue how to do things.”

“So we have already made teams based on our knowledge. If you're not happy, you may say so now or do as you're tasked." Ivar hisses while Merten and Treyse approve.

Artek reads the list they made and then looks expectantly at the room.

"Why should we listen to a Wolf in the lab?" Leocadie asks because being an alchemy genius and a Manticore, an older one at that, he feels like he has a right to question things.

"Because it's my lab! And there's no way in hell, I'm letting anyone fuck it up! Take it or leave it." Lambert growls.

"You're the Keep's alchemist? You?" Another Manticore taunts.

"I am, little bastard. Best of my craft."

"For a Wolf."

"For a witcher alchemist." Lambert answers proudly then struts to Leocadie's side, both hands come to rest on the table and he asks about an obscure piece of potion making that truly flies over most witchers’ heads.

Leocadie hums and answers in a bored tone. Lambert tilts his head to one side and hums, then Leocadie asks about swallow and its side effects. He's cut by Lambert snickering and pointed out a way to solve the issue to which Leocadie adds his insight. They both stare at each other and grins.

"You. Me. Lab. Now." Lambert orders and Leocadie follows. They are muttering together and groaning at having not thought about one thing or another themselves… They need to test mixing their different ideas now.

"Don't make the lab explode again!" Vesemir yells.

"That only happened once!"

"Once not on purpose, too many otherwise!"

Lambert guffaws and his footsteps disappear alongside Leocadie's, the further apart they go.

“I guess we’re following them.” One Manticore says and those tasked with potions leave and follow their trail.

"So… This happened." Merten says with an impressed whistle as the nearest to Aiden can hear gushing: “that’s my Wolf.”

"If Lambert can play nice. We better do our best." Rennes laughs. "Alright, let's go to the stables.” He says to his group.

Each wolf calls his group over and they move in more or less coordination to their respective tasks. Bears, Griffin and Wolves make good work on the castle’s fondation and Cats help them with caulking some holes and preventing the winds from entering their space. Cats are also having fun on the roof while repairing the damages, if some have raced up in the chimney that’s a story for another time. Aubry and some more Cats and Griffin are making the benches, Bears moving them so they can all have a table and a bench or chair to sit and eat on. Cranes have gone to hunt for food and Vipers and Manticores are looking for herbs to eat - and to make poisons or potions with but hush - Vesemir has gone to the garden with a group with green fingers. Aiden has followed the Wolf tasks by showing them the kitchen and cooking. Geralt, Jaskier and Yennefer are looking for clothes and blankets, pillows and anything usable. Hemminks has gone to the armory and is helping with the weapon and the leather work. They are all very busy and don’t have time to pick up a fight. 

The first night, they managed to make sure the castle would keep standing and have enough tables and benches in the hall to eat together. It's still crowded but they make it work. The meal is better than the day before and they barely chat among themselves. They all left back to the area they claimed and just crashed, sleeping like the dead. 

The next day, it's truly necessary that they wash more thoroughly. 

"What do you mean you have hot springs!" Jaskier shouts. "Like literally hot springs." He emphasizes with his hands moving animatedly.

"Hm"

"You, of the wolf witchers, who never indulge in anything have hot springs." Jaskier huffs. "No wonder you love your baths." 

Geralt continues to lead Jaskier below, until they reach a steamy place. It's huge, with different pools lined up. The ones on the farthest sides seem like they could boil a man alive but the ones near the entrance seem totally acceptable to bathe in. The lights are not strong but sufficient to see clearly while not blinding them. It's pretty cozy. Many witchers are already inside some pools, grouped by schools. Jaskier has noticed that witchers seem to have difficulties to truly mix. Not so far from nobles' factions. But it will need to change soon… In the meantime, hot springs! 

"There’s a private pool the-"

"And deny me the pleasure of seeing so many beautiful naked bodies?" Jaskier cries in outrage, disrobing fast and just entering a pool and making quite the indecent sound.

Geralt watches, the bestowed fool, and does the same, glaring at the watchers who snicker at his possessiveness. 

"I could stay here forever…" Jaskier groans.

"We might need to add sirens to your weird ancestry line." Geralt teases.

"Hm. Merman." Jaskier giggles. 

"My lark. Wash my hair?" Geralt asks so his bard is occupied by taking care of him.

"Of course, darling."

Witchers watch as the man dotes on one of them, how he smells of warm bread and sweet honey. How the white Wolf clearly smells just as strongly. 

"Huh?" Serrit can help but to make a surprised sound.

"They are sickeningly sweet." Gweld agrees.

She leans on him and grabs his hand under the water. "They are." Gweld squeezes her hand and doesn't move. She is the one to lead their relationship, he won't push for more than she's willing to give. It was already an experience to switch from him to her - not that he cared - and to feel like she was herself. To find a mage willing to help so her body was in line with her mind. Gweld will be eternally grateful to Triss. That's why he doesn't object much to her presence. He knows Serrit would defend her against harm. Vipers close to Serrit would. Serrit and he have all the time in the world to explore.

*

It’s been a week and things have settled a little inside Kaer Morhen. Oh, it’s not all roses but they are making progress. Witchers have remade the main hall to fit them all without it feeling crowded. It’s the first piece of work that required witchers and mages to cooperate. It goes relatively well all things considered. They expand the room to fit them all by moving back a wall further from the entrance. Jaskier and Yennefer, both insist on keeping the room behind that they will use as a meeting room so they have an easy place to make meetings. Yennefer and Jaskier share a look that says they know it will be the “war room” even if the witchers have no idea it’s gonna be it. 

Now, they have enough space, tables and chairs, enough bowls and forks. Meals are made in rotation so they all have to cook (save for some who are truly too bad at it and would just intoxicate them without wanting to, which means Manticores, Lambert and quite a high numbers of Vipers are just plain forbidden to cook).

They continue to repair the Keep, beginning with the corridors claimed by the schools, and things are mostly good - nobody is dead yet. Eskel comes back one evening to this much progress. There’s only Gweld to see him come home. “High time you came back.” Gweld mutters onto Eskel’s shoulder and hugs him tightly.

“Needed time to think.”

“I’m not blaming you. We just finished making sure the Keep doesn't crumble but there's still so much to do… We managed to find a space for each school so we are not on each other's throats…"

"Hm."

"Typical." 

"Sorry. I just realized that I may have overreacted."

"No shit." Gweld laughs. "Remind me not to piss you off."

"Hm."

"Ok. You're monosyllabic again. Bed."

Eskel nods and goes inside, going by sheer habits to his own room.

*

The next morning, Eskel wakes up to the smell of ink, leather, honey and warm bread. He breathes deeply,  sighs in contentment and buried his nose in his pillow to get more. His body kind of rises because his pillow is -  in fact - not a pillow at all but a belly. His ears register a chuckle. He bolts up-right, eyes wide, his legs are tangled in the sheets. 

"Hello, dear." Jaskier whispers fondly, he has his pretty stag’s ears out and petals lost here and there on his hair but Eskel notices that the antlers are absent.

"I didn't mean to intrude." Eskel apologizes when he realizes he should grovel instead of staring. 

"You're not." Jaskier answers swiftly when he feels Geralt's rigid body at his back. "It is no hardship to wake up to two gorgeous men in bed."

"Lark." Geralt warns.

"Hush." 

Eskel is relaxing as slowly as Geralt which means not at all. Jaskier huffs and grabs Eskel's face with both hands very softly. Eskel gasps very quietly. People don't touch his scars... Jaskier smiles kindly and requests because he doesn't have the physical strength to move Eskel to come to him and rest his head on his neck so when the sunlit wolf moves, Jaskier leans more heavily onto Geralt's chest and pets Eskel's hair. What a way to start the day. Both witchers purr. The sound is loud in the room and Jaskier hums to accompany it and prevents them from being self-conscious. The vibrations and noise is very pleasant. Jaskier likes it very much. He hopes he will be able to have this again, a slow morning, sun going up and illuminating the room more and more as it rises. It’s the best way to start the day, especially when the previous ones have been so hectic. 

*

Eskel, Geralt and Jaskier come down to the main hall together. Only then does Eskel truly notice that it’s bigger, way bigger than it used to be. There are seven tables lined up at a different angle than usual because they don’t have enough room otherwise. They are in close range from each other which is not very practical but in one week, the work done is good. He can also see the repairs that were done, way better than what only Wolves could do, and Eskel only notices because he knows the inside of the building. He grew up there.

“Pup. Thought I smelled you." Vesemir says approvingly. "High time you come back."

"I started this. I can't just leave." Eskel agrees.

They explain to Eskel what happened during the last days. How things are more or less working but that they are wary that it might go to shit at the first opportunity. Eskel’s instinct is spotted on. Things don’t stay all roses. Each School has chosen a space to be theirs which was truly a sensible idea, but those places need a lot of work done. Only the Wolves’ corridor is good enough to be hospitable during Winter. They have four or five months before the wind and the snow comes. So high up in the mountain, the Killer will be close and this year’s winter is going to be tough. 

Teams are already made so Eskel just joins where hands are needed without questioning the tasks assignment. In the morning he tends to the goats, the horses and their chicken. He doesn’t care about mucking the stalls when it’s needed. He doesn’t enjoy it but it needs to be done and so he does it. He comes to the remparts to help repair those because the elders are scared of an attack after winter and they would like the stronghold to be ready before the snow settles in and weakens the foundations. 

“No! I said no! Fuck you!” They all hear a voice shout out. It rings inside the Keep and reverbates on the whole mountain. Eskel recognizes Lambert’s voice and runs there, quickly followed by his Wolf brethren. Having, no doubt, recognize their little Wolf's voice.

“Listen you witch! You’re not using that room!”

“I need space to work and this room is well located and easy to go to in case of-”

“No! You’re not listening! No mages are setting foot in that damn room ever again! Or I’ll kill you like I did the mages that made us and thought it funny to experiment on us just because they could.” Lambert yells. “You; mages are all the same!”

 “Pup.” Vesemir says with a resigned tone.

“What! You’d let us continue to see what they could do with us?”

“No.” Vesemir and Rennes both speak at the same time. 

“Get out of this room Triss.” Gweld asks. He doesn’t want to have to choose between his little brother and the woman who was so kind to Serrit. 

“I won’t experiment on any boys. Not like I could… I need a room to make potions and have space to treat your wound.” She explains. “I’m a healer, not a fucking torturer.”

“So if you could-”

“Enough.” Yennefer shouts. “No mages under my watch would torture any boys or girls to make witchers, no experiment, no funny business.” Yennefer vows and her words ring true. “All the mages will make that vow, I’ll make them swear a magical oath.”

‘I’ll burn the mages’ notes and everything in this room. It will be mine, let them rot. We’re here now.” Triss replies.

“No. I’m burning sad Albert myself.” Lambert scolds, makes Igni with his hand and watches the furniture inside the room burn. Then he storms away. Aiden runs after him.

Yennefer sighs and with a flick of her hands, kills the fire that was spreading. “Dramatic much. He is your little brother alright.” Yennefer gives a pointed glare to Eskel who simply smiles.

“So an infirmary?” Guxart asks, relieved by the conclusion.

“Yes. Even if you heal fast, you need a safe place.” Triss says.

“Good for me.” Treyse nods and he’s easily seconded. They smelled no lies.

*

One month after they arrive at Kaer Morhen, Yennefer says one morning to Jaskier: “It’s high time someone teaches you to be one with your own chaos.” 

“What?”

“Now that you let yourself be, well, yourself without the magical artifact you used to hide your true blood, you need to learn control.”

“Yen.” Geralt warns.

“You know I’m right.” Yennefer cuts immediately. “Jaskier should be able to use his own power like he wants.”

“I feel better already. I can feel the magic around us.” Jaskier admits quietly.

“You’re fae, you’re close to nature.” Yennefer nods.

“I would be honored to be taught by you, Yenna.”

“Good.”

“I’m safe, Geralt.” Jaskier says and kisses Geralt then follows Yennefer outside where nature is present.

They stop somewhere private, in a small meadow. Jaskier can feel the breeze on his skin and the fresh air from the early hour, the sun is out but the dew is on the grass. Jaskier hears the whispers of nature, like it’s singing to him. He doesn’t realize he has closed his eyes and is very softly swinging.

“You feel it. The chaos around us.” Yennefer grins.

“Yes.” Jaskier whispers and his blue eyes, color changing like the sea, meet Yennefer’s violet ones. He grins as well.

He moves his hands like he would play an instrument and the dew rises in the air, the grass grows, flowers bloom and when Jaskier makes a calming gesture, nature goes back to its natural state.

“Hm. Your antlers grew.”

“Did they?” Jaskier asks, surprised.

“They were not huge, but big enough to be seen in Ard Carraigh. They have been nearly invisible since you were rescued.”

“They have always done that.” Jaskier shrugs. “I can’t really control them.”

“Antlers are a stag weapon. Must work the same way.”

“What, so like if I'm in danger, they are big and if I’m safe, they are small or nonexistent since I don’t need them?”

“We could test that theory?”

They both grin again and they play-fight with chaos. It’s the most fun they had in a while, especially with chaos involved. 

“We should do that more often.” Jaskier pants at the end to which Yennefer agrees wholeheartedly. Jaskier arrives at the castle with his antlers high on his head and stag’s ears as white as snow on display. The flower crown that comes with his fae’s form is made of a myriad of different flowers, some are dandelions, some are red as blood and many are white. His eyes are the eerie blue of the sea and the luminous sky, he has freckles on his face to paint him like a fawn, his complexion is sunny and smooth like silk. He struts through the main hall and straddles Geralt and kisses him hungrily. His witcher indulges him because Jaskier is a vision.

“My lark.”

“My Wolf.” Jaskier giggles, still high on adrenaline.

“Yen?” Geralt growls, worried about the state Jaskier is in, he doesn’t smell anything amiss but, he can’t help being nervous.

“Don’t you like your bard being himself?” She says as she raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing his hesitation with voicing his fear.

Jaskier nuzzles Geralt, it calms them both and his antlers get smaller and smaller the more he breathes the scent of his lover.

“Huh?” Eskel chuckles softly.

“Seems you’re right.” Jaskier giggles.

“Of course I am.” Yennefer retorts haughtily.

“Witch.”

“Bard.”

“Piglet.” Jaskier dares to say.

Yennefer laughs so hard it startles everyone in the Keep. “Says the minger.”  

Jaskier laughs just as loudly and when he’s done, he has tears to the corner of his eyes and his antlers have disappeared so he nest himself onto Geralt. The witcher doesn’t ask anything, those two are weird together, he wants to stay out of it.

*

It’s been a little more than four months now. The castle is repaired to be hospitable, walls, chimney and roofs are secured. Remparts and gates are good enough for now. The stables, pens and greenhouse have been expanded to be able to fit all the current animals and supplies’ trips have been made to more or less feed an army of witchers. The rooms have been repaired and given to witchers with at least a bed, sheets and woods to light their fire. The window panels will withstand the wind. Since their arrival, each School has chosen a corridor to own: Bears go on one side of the Keep, somewhere private. Griffins and Crane both chose a corridor on the top of the Keep for nesting purposes, Manticores  and Vipers respectively take a corridor near the gardens and greenhouse (cough poisons cough); Cats take the sunniest corridors and Wolves stay where they have always been. Those places are theirs now and they can do with it what they want as long as it respects other Schools’ space and intimacy. For Winter, it will do.

Life has begun to have a schedule and with less work to do, witchers have spare time. They have no purpose now, they aren’t hunting, there’s no contract. They train with their schoolmates and some fight with other school members because they already know each other, but without a task at hand, they don’t talk much between schoolmates or share training. Weirdly, only Lambert has made true connections outside the Wolves, with Aiden and Leocadie. Thanks to Geralt, he trades barbs with Jaskier and has no choice but to talk to Merigold and Yennefer. Gweld makes it that he has to be mainly polite to Serrit because she’s a stabby one… 

The thing is, Kaer Morhen has been repaired in those months and the work has been so hectic they were absolutely exhausted and never noticed: together in one place, they are loud.

They come back one morning, all grumpy. Like truly grumpy, Bear like grumpy. Jaskier is surprised by the weird atmosphere in the main hall. It’s weird to see them glaring even at their own schoolmates. Usually, there is a cohesive unit within a school and now they are all being: angry? 

“Ok. I know I’m just a bard, but what the fuck is wrong with you all!” Jaskier asks and they all wince at the sound of his voice and Geralt makes a whispering noise.

“I don’t want to hear the Cats go at it again.” A Bear complains.

“Cats are crazy.” Someone agrees from somewhere in the hall.

“You’re all so dull.” A Cat gives them a very toothy smile.

“I don’t need to know your sex talk when I want to sleep!” A Bear roars.

“That’s weird, I agree.” A Griffin says, trying to find allies with the Wolves who shrugs for the most part: “Sex is sex,” to which most Vipers nod.

“We don’t care about your kinks!” A Manticore shouts.

“Agreed.” A group of Cranes says.

“Vipers and Wolves are emotionally constipated and Cats are just crazy. We want peace.” A Manticore says exasperated.

“Oooooooh!” Jaskier laughs, and some petals fall from his head - he has the habit of making a flowery trail behind him now - when he understands their problem.

“Oooooooh! Indeed” Yennefer laughs very loudly on purpose. “Dumbasses, you lot.” She chuckles. “I could soundproof your rooms for privacy's sake and make only the sounds you wish to get out to be heard outside your room?”

“Could you?” one Bear nearly begs. 

“I will.” She promises with a soft smile and stands. “Tonight, you’ll be with your own thoughts inside your room.”

“You do realize those exhibitionists would still make the sound go out of their room?”

“Then let’s make a rule: no sex in public areas. Cats are far away from us, I don’t even understand how we could hear them, those fuckers.”

“No sex where we can be heard!” A Cat amends. “Otherwise you don’t respect me either!”

“Fucking hell, where would you like to have sex?”

“Wanna join us?” Another Cat purrs.

“No!”

“Alright, let’s write that rule down.” Jaskier intervenes before they can fight. He takes his quill and satchel out and waits patiently for the witchers to find a wording they like.

*

From that day, Yennefer is treated as if she were a sister and not a mage to be wary off. She asks nothing for this, but it pleases her that she’s now part of the group. And Jaskier gets nods of respect for being the one to help them vocalize that need and keep track of all they say. 

Pin to one of the notices’ boards in the Council’s room are different pieces of papers. 

Kaer Morhen’s rule 1: Respect each other. Always, first and foremost 

Rule 2: Rules cannot be discard

Rule 3: Don’t have sex where others can stumble upon you [added to the rule with a dagger is another piece of paper reading] ~ When in doubt Cats’ corridor is always available, but be careful you might be joined ~

Keep’s rule 4: Don’t poke a Bear. The Bear will poke back ~and you won’t win ~ [added in Vesemir very discernable handwriting are the following words] This is a warning, not an encouragement.

Rule 5: Manticores are banned from the kitchen [below is scribbled by Aiden] and Lambert, he can’t cook to save his life [in a different ink is] Perfect, I don’t want to cook anyway.

Chapter 6: Our leader is mighty

Summary:

Alternative title: so what do we do now?

Notes:

A huge thanks to AWAU Fan Server and the magnificent community that helped me each time I struggled! I won’t give all their names but they will recognize themselves! And a very special thanks to NightAceDragon for listening to me rambling everyday.

"So what do we do now?" A Viper says. "We’ve helped the Wolves repair their stupid Keep. We can't walk the Path anymore… And the weather has begun to take a turn for the worse with the winter wind coming…"

"And what is that you wish? To go back to take humans' contracts?" A Griffin replies.

“Beast or man - makes no difference to me.” Serrit answers at the same time as Idwin says: "At least I'm paid for it. I got nothing with the King being dead, did I?"

"You're just so dishonorable." Another Griffin spats.

"Stuck-up. Go fuck yourself with your morals."

"Watch how you speak to us!" Ealdred says.

"And why should I?"

"Enough!" Eskel roars over the multiple voices and all the medallions vibrate from it.

The witchers stop, some sit back, others simply wait.

"I asked for your help, true.” Eskel starts. “But I never forced your hand to come to my aid. You could have done as you always have when a school is involved in something: wait it out. You still can." Eskel says.

"Indeed." Ivar agrees, and a few witchers stare, he's a very intimidating man to look at. Everything about him makes people, witchers included, uneasy so that, he agrees, makes a lot of them think again.

"I don't know where this is going but I'd rather follow my guts and see what’s next." Letho shrugs.

"So, what do we do, Oh mighty Dragon Wolf." A Cat teases without reservation, having latched onto that nickname the bard provided.

"We continue to rebuild Kaer Morhen. Our strongholds are all ruins. This one is still standing, we have managed to keep it in relatively good shape and you've improved a lot already. Place is easily defensible. We are already gathered here. We can change our Fate. Who says we can't walk the Path in groups? Learn from each other instead of fighting. The assholes who made us are dead, long gone. I say we make of our life what we will. Strength in unity. We are kins, cousins, family. Our ties are stronger than blood." Eskel says, voice assured and even.

Jaskier is looking adoringly at the man. Confidence is so attractive. Geralt breathes his lark's sweetening scent with curiosity. Hm. Geralt weirdly doesn't mind Jaskier’s response to Eskel. If he were to share a love interest, it would have been with Eskel but he never seems to want it. Eskel is his brother, his best friend, his favorite Wolf. 

"And why should we listen to him?"

"Are you crazy? He's better at signs than a Griffin."

"And without them he's nothing."

Vesemir suddenly laughs so loudly it startles the assembly of witchers and mages. The wolves all smirk with various degrees of glee.

"Oh boy. Go on, do try to take on Eskel without him using signs. It's a treat I'm willing to see again. C'mon. Let's go." Vesemir stands up.

"Huh?" The accused witcher blinks.

"Alright. I want to see if he's that good. I'm willing to follow him but I'd like to see if he deserves it."

They all gather in the training field, a wide space they remade to fit the assembly and to be practical. It has one huge arena with a sloping floor on the side. There’s grass and it’s perfect to sit and watch the area, so Jaskier takes a spot and Geralt does the same, to stay close. On the far side, are different spaces with training courses. It seems like there’s different sets.

Eskel goes in the middle of the arena, he’s playing with his sleeves and grinning. Jaskier finds himself grinning as well from the confidence he’s showing. Eskel doesn’t seem bothered to be challenged. Quite the contrary. Jaskier can’t wait to see Eskel in a fight, and against witchers it’s going to be magnificent. There will be no signs as a rule but Vesemir and the Wolves’ reaction is enough to pick his curiosity. And he’s not the only one who’s vibrating. Geralt has a little smile on his face as well. 

The first witcher to come forward is the Viper, Idwin, who issued the challenge. He stands in front of Eskel with his steel sword, it's shorter than the standard ones the Wolves use. Eskel also has his steel sword in hand but he doesn't doubt his opponent has a few hidden weapons. He's not naïve.

Eskel raises an eyebrow. "Anytime?" 

"Alright. I'm more used to being sneaky than all chivalry like that."

"Should I close my eyes?" Eskel offers in a taunting voice he has perfected by baiting and gouging Geralt, Gweld and Lambert into shit. The witcher behaves like he’s Lambert’s age which might not be far away from the truth. Eskel is counting on it to make him be hasty and since he’s underestimating him, he shouldn’t think twice about coming at him.

The Viper scoffs and rushes at him then changes course at the last second. It's so fast, Jaskier only gasps as he hears the clash of swords. Eskel has barely moved. Just raised his sword for a perfect parry, his body sideways and his other hand has grabbed the wrist trying to cut through him with a dagger. 

Eskel sighs. So predictable .

Idwin tries to make Eskel release his wrist but can’t get free so he lifts his leg to kick him but Eskel just moves in a perfect counter, the dagger falls, the sword flies away and Eskel throws Idwin over his shoulder, the lad managed to land on his feet but Eskel throws his fist, right on his cheek and he falls backward, stunned. He just ends up on the floor, Eskel grinning at him from above. 

“Fuck!” Iwdin curses. That punch hurts like hell.

“Huh? Why are we making him fight the hatchling?” Auckes asks.

“Cause he issued the challenge.”

“Huh? Well, I’m next then.”

“If I may, Vipers got their turn.” A Griffin interrupts.

“What, no!”

“How about Griffins, Manticores, Cranes, Cats, Bears and Vipers again. I think no Wolf wants to fight Eskel?” Jaskier says, lifting his head just a bit, hand sticks to his paper sheet by a pen.

“Alright.” Auckes relents when he feels the numerous glares being sent his way. How many protectors does that bard have? He's not surprised by the Wolves being protective but he senses other school's witchers' side eyes as well.

Eskel rolls his head on his shoulder and waits patiently for the Griffin to choose their challengers. Keldar steps forward. “I’d rather fight you with everything you got.” 

“Signs then?”

“If you would.”

They both bow toward one another and get into position. They cast Aard at the same time, the rush of winds it produces when both signs collide, makes Jaskier scream: “my papers!” Thankfully, witchers grab them and give them back to the poor bard, well to his witcher since the fae is looking at the fight, Geralt rolls his eyes, Jaskier punches him playfully without looking away from Eskel.

Both witchers move fast and stay at a respective distance, casting another Aard then they pull their swords out and fight steel against steel. It’s more playful than a real fight but it’s still breathtaking to watch. Jaskier looks in awe as they seem to dance gracefully and point their sword toward their opponent, the other evading or parrying masterfully. Their swords meet again and they both disengage without much more show. “Good enough?” Keldar asks. “Aye!” His Griffins answer with glee. 

“I felt like as Head of the Manticores, I should be the one to fight you but I also think my brethren would like to know your strength. I don’t need to fight you myself.” Merten says, and gestures for a group of his men to go. That might have to do with Leocadie leaning on him and enjoying the show. 

“We would like to fight you as a group, we’re used to being with each other on the Path.”

“I might not win against three witchers at once.” Eskel admits.

“Humble. Good. We won’t use signs.”

"Does that mean I should?" Eskel grins.

"Preferably not. It's a friendly spare."

"Works for me." Eskel agrees and stands ready. 

They go for him at the same time from three different angles - like some creatures on the Path do - but Eskel comes forward to meet one earlier, he crunches down - even if he's not into acrobatics, he's agile enough to pull that move off - and extends his leg just a bit as he comes to the first Manticore's side to make him trip. Since his opponent is running, he can't stop his movement mid-way and he nearly face plant,  would have if he wasn't a witcher but it gives Eskel the momentum to parry the sword of the second man coming at his left, he slides his swords against the Manticore's to come closer and turns just a tiny bit, grabs the hand of the third man then pull very forcefully, he resists so Eskel releases his grab suddenly and jumps out of the way. The second opponent falls forward as the third falls backward, their feets collide. They manage to prevent falling like a sack but by then Eskel has managed to turn and fight the first man who’s ready to go. He keeps an eye on the other two, making sure to stir the fight and his person far from them so he fights them one or two at a time but not the three of them. They finally manage to circle him and Eskel pulls his dagger out to parry. 

Jaskier thinks he looks like a wild thing: hair in dirasay, sweat on his forehead, a grin that is matched by his adversaries, his shirt is sticking to his abs in a truly indecent way. Jaskier admires the muscles and the men but Eskel is a much more compelling sight. Geralt sniffs and looks at Jaskier's notes. He sighs in fond exasperation.

And then Eskel catches one out guard, makes him fall and pulls the tip of his sword against his neck. 

"Hm. Stopping here?" Eskel taunts the other two who nod.

"How the fuck did you do that? Like you always knew where my feet would land so you just put yourself exactly where you were the safest? I couldn't do anything…"

"That's just how Eskel fights." Vesemir says. “He reads you. Doesn’t matter how fast or strong you are, he’s always one step ahead. It used to piss the trainers off.”

“Not you?” Artek asks.

“No. I don’t care about that, it means he would survive the Path if it doesn’t let it go to his head which since he survived so long means it didn't” Vesemir answers.

“So what, if he can’t read us, he signs? But since he predicts our moves… That’s neat!”

“Pretty much.” Rennes confirms.

Eskel casts a Quen out of the blue, the shield is a golden glow that makes the arrow coming at him melt to ashes when it touches it. “Cranes, not fair.” Eskel complains.

“How?”

“The air shifted.” Eskel shrugged.

“Are you listening to yourself? That’s not possible?”

“His chaos is strong, and he’s a witcher. Might give him a very strong spatial awareness and combined with his witcher’s enhancement, it might just make him just like that .” Yennefer says in wonderment. 

“Well, nice Quen.”

“Thanks.” Eskel nods at the Crane.

Six Cats run at him without much warning and Eskel breathes slowly and waves one hand to cast Yrden, once, twice, thrice which makes three Cats stumble and fall. They laugh delightedly at his perfect aim. Witchers aren't showing much but Jaskier is pretty sure they are as awed as he feels.

Eskel moves to evade the fourth one, then the fifth and casts an Aard to the last one, it’s fucking Aiden… He gets pushed very far away by the sign and bounced with his own Aard on the floor to prevent crashing and laughs joyfully: “That’s great! We should do that again.” The two remaining standing Cats high five each other and just nod at Eskel. “Let’s do that again.” They agree.

One Bear comes inside the arena. He's tall and broad, truly an epitome of Bear.

“Sign or no sign?” Eskel asks because at the end, he cast a lot of those…

“What would you use?”

“Against you? Axii.” Eskel answers. “I can’t move you, you’re a brick house, probably stronger than me and if you land a hit, I’ll be dead or heavily injured. I could fight you but it would take a lot more energy than I'd like to spend. I hear, your Bears don't move and hit until it's dead." Eskel shrugs, uncaring.

The Bear chuckles and nods.

“Axii?” Eskel asks to be absolutely sure.

“I’d like to know how strong this sign is when cast by you”

“Very well.” Eskel says gravely.

Eskel makes the sign slowly for this one. “You’re calm. Everything is ok and you’re safe. Safe enough that your eyelids feel heavy. It’s time to sit and stay where you are.”

The Bear doesn't move at first and Eskel breathes through the strain. The stronger the mind, the harder it is. And after a while, his opponent obeys. Eskel doesn’t want to do something humiliating. He releases the sign quickly. That one is taxing.

“That’s scary.” The Bear admits. “But I can see how difficult it’s to maintain it. I’m good as long as you don’t abuse it.”

“Never.” Eskel vows. “Only as a last resort. It has always been that way.”

The Bear nods and goes back to his own brethren without another word. 

“So Auckes.” Eskel turns to watch the Viper coming.

“No sign.”

“No sign.” Eskel repeats.

Auckes is fast, and sneaky. Clearly he’s older than Idwin. And thus way more dangerous. He keeps Eskel on his toe, he has to react on instinct, to truly focus on him, he’s the most serious opponent he got so far, the other witchers were doing it mainly for curiosity and fun. Auckes on the other hand wants to prove a point. He wants to know if Eskel is worthy to be the one leading them, to be their figurehead for more than one event. So Eskel keeps his feet light and ready, he parries, he moves around, he evades, he turns and slashes, get a scratch because Auckes is fucking fast, but he gives as much a he get, counters and jumps away. He breathes through it, keeps a very tiny bit of his senses around in case another witcher wants to take him by surprise but his main focus is Auckes. He's deadly but Eskel knows they aren't trying to truly hurt one another. Eskel steps backward, moving to the right just a fraction before Auckes leans forward, arm extended with his dagger where he would have been second ago. That's what sparing with another unknown witcher is like. Until Eskel gets that little sensation in his chest, his mind gets as calm as a surface lake, he knows what to do if Auckes choses one step or another. He has three different scenarios and can pick from for the most appropriate one to respond with the least energy and maximum efficiency. It’s nearly relaxing to have to do something so familiar. 

Auckes stops suddenly. Eskel has already come to a halt, a second before Auckes did. The Viper looks at him and shouts: “Fuck you! You’re meditating!”

Eskel tilts his head and looks sheepish. “Fighting like that is relaxing. You’re good, fast and sneaky, near unpredictable. It’s been a while since I fought so hard. You keep me on my toes and then I could just read your fighting pattern. After a few minutes I just know what to do.”

“Goddammit. And that’s without signs. Fuck this. Alright.” Auckes says. Serrit pats him on his shoulder. 

“All in favor for Eskel to lead us on a new Path.”

A thunderous ”Aye” echoes in the mountain, Eskel can feel the power behind the word being bellowed. 

“Anyone against?”

The silence is as deafening as the voices were.

“Well, it’s settled then.” Jaskier grins. “I’ll write so many new songs! I'll never run out of inspiration." Jaskier says with a sultry voice full of wonder.  "Your empire is going to be glorious. It can’t be anything else with you all.”

The bard means those words and it makes the assembly bashful and proud in equal measure. Jaskier is an experience they are not used to. The witchers aren't sure they would ever get used to it…

*

Eskel walks into the main hall for dinner without much thought. The bellowed “ Dragon Wolf ” that greets him takes him by surprise. He stops his movements in a graceful halt, like it was planned for him to stop short at their call. Eskel smiles, a feral little turn of his lips, the corner of his eyes crinkle with delight and he roars, as loudly as the whole assembly before him: "Dragon Pack." 

Witchers laugh at his answer. Eskel looks around and notices that one table is now standing on a dais, watching over the other schools' tables at an angle. Anyone entering now will have direct access to the Wolf table and be flanked on each side by witchers. Not that anyone would come to Kaer Morhen anyway. Wolves are sitting at this one and in the middle, the chair is empty. It's clearly meant for him because at his right are Gweld, Lambert and Vesemir; at his left are Jaskier, Geralt and Yennefer, all grinning at him like they got the canary, the cream and more. He grins back more softly and comes to his chair. He takes and raises his cup and shouts: "To the pack." 

"To the pack." 

And then they eat.

Jaskier hums a beautiful little melody under his breath. It's not as ominous and dramatic as what Geralt heard already. Which part of the song cycle has Jaskier reached? 

"Composing again songbird?" Eskel asks.

"Of course. How could I not, oh mighty Dragon Wolf, savior of innocent souls and leader of all witchers."

"Gods, don't give me such a long title…"

"Too late." Jaskier giggles.

"Don't look at me. I know it's impossible to change his mind." Geralt teases his brother.

"Hm." 

They have been so distracted that, at the end of dinner, the doors open in a loud sound and the hall falls silent as a person, a human, the witchers know from the heartbeat, they are tall and broad-shouldered, not as much as most witcher but the assembly is surprised that a woman appears when she draws her hood back. She has brownish and straight hair, she’s not a beauty, but she’s far from ugly. She barely spares them a glance, no she is looking ahead, squaring her shoulders and she walks forward, until she reaches the dais. Only then, does she fall to her knees.

“I heard the Witcher Warlord, the- Dragon Wolf, killed the monster-King.” She begins, voice clearly enunciated as she smells more and more sad, anguish, mourning… “I-” She gulps and sniffs but continues: “I lost my sister to his monstrous appetite. I gave the dowry I worked for, so she could marry the man she loved, to a huntsman so his dogs could find where she had been-” She seems to look for the words. “Thrown aside.” She choses. “She deserved a proper burial. I have nothing to offer you, Dragon Wolf but my life and my sword to serve you for avenging her.”

“What’s your name, my lady?” Jaskier asks, when the hall stays silent.

“I’m not a lady.” She snorts. “I’m a mercenary, Zofia.”

“Zofia.” Eskel says and she looks up to the Warlord. He has what looks to be ugly and painful scars on one cheek, he’s very broad and tall: intimidating. His eyes are a deep shade of amber like a morning fire left to die slowly during the night, and from the way he stares at her, it’s like he can see her down to her soul. 

“Please.” Zofia begs, throwing herself onto the floor again. “I have nothing but my fealty to give you.” She explains. And she means it. She means it as she clutches the purse with her sweet sister’s golden hair that she cut off before leaving the village, never to return. 

“Your sword then.” Eskel nods. “Zofia, be welcome to Kaer Morhen, sister-in-arms, rise.” He adds to assure her of her safety and she stands-up rather lost despite her strong spine. 

“I heard some of your men were taken by the monster-King as well?” She asks, shuddering.

“We were.” Jaskier admits. And Zofia notices that his eyes are an ever changing blue but not cat-slitted: a human? No, not human, he has a pretty flower crown on his head and are those white stag ears and antlers? But whatever he is, he's sitting at the Warlord left and he must definitely be of high rank since he talked to her first. Who is he to the Warlord? She is very curious about the man sat between the Warlord and who is probably the famous White Wolf. Oh, his bard! Doesn’t the White Wolf have a bard? 

“Did he…?” She trails off, she has heard rumors about a bard being kept in Kaedwen. A mercenary hears a great many stories and very few are good.

“No.” Jaskier answers with a far away look on his face. He doesn’t elaborate and nobody asks for details. Geralt leans nearer to Jaskier because he smells distressed. Thankfully, Zofia nods, in respect. She won’t prob.

“Auckes.” Eskel calls out. “Go sit by him?” He asks, but it’s clearly an order and from Eskel’s taunting look, it’s also because Auckes fought dirty and so Eskel will have the last laugh. Auckes glares but nods and makes a beckoning gesture with his head to the woman. “C’mere lass.”

“Zofia.” She says, fearless to the Viper, even if she wonders if something will happen later. Is she a gift to a renowned warrior? No, the Warlord killed a monster, she can’t doubt her choice now.

“Zofia.” The witcher amends. She sits and is offered food without having to beg.

Dinner is a revelation about witchers. They are just like the man she used to camp with. They behave similarly and talk about a lot of topics she wouldn’t have thought would interest witchers. But she needs to throw those assumptions aside if she is to stay. 

Nobody truly talks to her and she doesn’t try because she’s still wary and doesn’t know what her role is going to be. A sharp whistle from an old witcher at the Wolf table makes the hall silent faster than she thought it would take.

“As you saw, we have a new sister-in-arms: Zofia. She’s under Auckes’s protection and mine. Zofia, Auckes will make sure you understand how things work here.”

“You’re safe, nobody will do anything you don’t wish.” Jaskier adds with a smile.

“And that.“ Eskel smiles, but with his scars, it pulls his mouth in a nasty sneer. 

“I’m not a fucking babysitter!” Auckes growls when he understands it's a long time thing and not just a tonight thing.

“Want to clean the bog instead?” Eskel asks mercilessly.

Auckes sighs when many of the witchers laugh and he grunts reluctantly: “alright.”

“Great to know I rank just above cleaning the bog.” She deadpans and the Vipers' table guffaws.

“Finally a sister to play with.” Serrit grins. “Stick with me, and you’re gonna be fine.”

*

Zofia settles in Kaer Morhen like she has always been meant to be with them. She’s a warrior and so she’s treated as one and it works. Witchers are very careful to never do more than what she can handle as a human and as weeks progress, they learn her limits and it becomes easier and funnier to train with her. Serrit takes her under her wings and Auckes might do a little more than that from the looks of it. It’s cute. Jaskier is watching with a smile as it evolves slowly. 

He’s also becoming friends with the woman since they are the only “humans” in the castle. 

“You told me “no” when I asked. What did he make you do?” Zofia asks again when the conversation had weirdly been stirred there again. Ah. Jaskier was talking about his nightmares with her and asking about hers… Zofia isn’t stupid. She knows something must have happened.

“He made me play music while-” He shudders and presses himself to Geralt who wraps his arms around him. Jaskier has been so lost in his head

“You never said.” Geralt grumbles and tightens his hold on his love.

“He tried once and he nearly cut your arms for my refusal… I couldn’t find a way to escape that.” Jaskier trembles, tears gathering to his eyes. “He wanted me to watch to punish me.”

“He died too fast.” Eskel growls what Geralt is thinking.

“Eskel!” Jaskier cries out, having not heard him.

“My Lord.” Zofia says as respectfully as ever.

“Zofia.” Eskel nods. “Just Eskel is fine.” He says again. “And I should have burned him alive.” Eskel growls angrily.

“No. He doesn’t deserve your time.” Jaskier whispers, his hand coming to touch Eskel’s cheek.

“You’re safe now.” Geralt promises.

“I know.” Jaskier smiles. “So darling Zofia. If I may be bold as to ask about those nasty rumors on the Monster-King. I need another point of view for my new song!”

“Sure?” She replies, hesitantly. What does Jaskier want?

*

Jaskier stands up and Vesemir makes a sharp whistle to silence the witchers. They turn and look at the bard whose instrument is ready to be played.

“My dear witchers, as your bard, I’ll introduce you to the first song of my new song cycle. Without further ado I present to you the Siege of Arg Carraigh." Jaskier explains before beginning a soft tune.

It starts with a maiden dancing freely in the woods, and switches to the same, now, silent woods. Jaskier pauses his song for a beat. Then he quickly describes the deeds done and conveys the terrible feeling he lived through. The harsh pull of strings ring in the hall, ominous. It gives his audience goosebumps. The music is beautiful and as unpredictable as Jaskier felt his fate was.

Jaskier sings about Eskel's furry. It’s said in very pretty words so Eskel is surprised that it makes him feel the same anger, fear and hatred as when he standed before the city. Their bard is magnificent. Geralt is right about his talent.

The bard sings about the making of an army to slay a monster that nobody could defeat. It comes as seven different melodies to end up with a high pitch chord when Jaskier sings about the King of Kaedwen who's simply called: monster-King. 

He plays a tune Geralt has heard already, the one Jaskier hums the very same day of their rescue. It's good, different from the one Jaskier plays to talk about the White Wolf. This one is somber but damn good. The cadence is slow to fit Eskel’s unhurried nature, grave and somber like something coming while crackling like the wood before a fire. It suits Eskel perfectly.

Jaskier describes Yennefer as the violet sorceress and Letho, Gaetan and Kiyan are mentioned, each with a line describing them which means he asked about them to their kins. Jaskier makes verses for Gweld and Lambert, concluding about their hair being as red as flames because they are the Dragon’s brothers, and have been touched and blessed by fire. 

Then, when the army is ready and the melody comes to its peak, Jaskier sings about Eskel’s entrance, the volcano he unleashed on the oathbreaker. Eskel’s side of the story has clearly been given by Vesemir or Triss but the rescue's side is definitely from Jaskier himself. It’s a beautiful tale. Jaskier makes the last notes count. 

The last echo dies, silence, and then witchers howls for an encore. Jaskier startles at the warm welcome his song just received and smiles as he looks at the - his - witchers. They are all his now.

Geralt is looking so fondly at his bard, Eskel whispers something to him and is swatted for his comment. Eskel laughs out loud. The sound is light and makes Jaskier beams. Eskel is smiling too and nodding at Jaskier who bows and strums the tune again to sing his new song a second time. Some witchers sing along and Jaskier makes it last a little longer to keep the hipe.

Then accepts requests one after the other. Witchers are very happy to sing along on some bawdy songs. 

Tonight, they celebrate.

Notes:

Thanks to all the people reading, subscribing, commenting, kudo-ing and all! It keeps the bunny fed and healthy.

Chapter 7: Talks about Trials

Notes:

I'm back so here a new chapter.

It has been two days of continuous heavy rain, wind howling and rattling windows that made the witchers stay inside for the most part to make tension rise again. The pools outside are growing, but the Wolves are not worried. Kaer Morhen has survived far worse, especially during the Winter when blizzards are fairly frequent. It's, currently, a pretty way to check the remaining leaks and if their repair would withstand the Winter that is already settling with how up in the mountain Kaer Morhen stands. 

Jaskier is strumming his lute at a windowsill where he can sit comfortably and see the storm rages. Both his poet and fae’s side love this show of nature’s prowess and how unyielding it is. Nobody from the richest King to the poorer peasant can make nature cower in front of them. She will always have the last words. Jaskier is just moving the string absentmindedly, he’s watching the lightning strikes into the sky and listening to the thunder roar. He’s so absorbed in his contemplation that he completely misses the uneven footsteps coming his way. A witcher crashes onto the wall next to him and startles him from his daydreaming. A string chooses that exact moment to break. It lashes on his face and a small drop of blood falls on his hand and it flows on his skin. Jaskier stays frozen for a second then stand-up abruptly, so fast that the witchers running in the corridor stop fighting, having also finally noticed the musician. 

“Fuck.” One mumbles when he smells the blood. Geralt is going to murder them.

Jaskier is silent for what feels like an eternity and then loud and outraged: “My lute! M-y L-u-t-e! You uncultured swine, I was composing the most beautiful ballad when your asses decided to prevent my composing! And my lute!” Jaskier repeats. “Look at what you did! I broke one of my strings!” Jaskier scolds and then cooing he adds looking at his instrument: “my poor baby, look at what those stupid oafs did. My darling, I nearly hurt you. But it’s alright.” He hushes and the four witchers blink. “You’re paying for my new strings.” Jaskier orders.

“Huh?”

“Yes.” Idwin nods, speechless, sensing that it’s better to agree. 

“Perfect, my friends. You hear that, free strings” Jaskier giggles and latches on one, hugging Idwin first - making sure the strap to his lute moves so his lute is at his back - and gives the same treatment to the three others. They are so baffled, they are frozen and tense when Jaskier touches them like it’s normal to hug witchers.

“Is he drunk?” The Crane, Orley whistles the witcher way so the bard doesn't hear and gets offended.

“At least, he’s not mad?” The Cat, Cyser, answers. He is smaller than his three companions and leaner, shoulders length dark hair and greenish eyes looking out of his depth.

“He is.” Idwin hisses.  

“I meant, at us.” Cyser amends. 

“He’s bleeding. The White Wolf will kill us.”

“Jaskier.” Idwin begins. “You’re hurt.”

“What did you do!” Geralt roars, he’s like a hound scenting blood in the air, which is accurate right now. The White Wolf walks menacingly toward them, body taunts at its full height and eyes glaring daggers at them, a scold on his face, lips snarling to them. They can smell the anger and see the clenched fists. They want to flee but witchers don’t flee, that reflex has been taken away with trials and training so they prepare themselves for a fight. 

“Geralt, my new friends promised me new strings!” Jaskier shouts in joy and leaps at Geralt - completely oblivious to the witcher’s rising temper - and slumps onto Geralt who takes his height easily with a gentleness despite his glowering.

“Did they?” Geralt says, watching them. They deflate as soon as Geralt does with the little bard in his arms. It’s a good sign that Geralt is relaxing, right?

“Yes, I played too much and one of my strings broke. They even say we would drink together later.” Jaskier adds and the four of them nod obediently.

“Hm.” Geralt hums and a smirk comes to his lips. The group gulps as a whole. What the fuck did they get into? They have forgotten why they were disagreeing in the first place. They are truly terrified of what has befallen them.

“Let’s go see Triss for your cut.” Geralt suggests softly.

“A cut? What? Oh!” Jaskier babbles. “My face! Geralt! It’s a tragedy…”

“C’mon.” Geralt says and herds Jaskier to Triss’s room.

“Did that happen?” The Manticore, Galen, whispers. And he's a tall broad witcher compared to his group. One scar on his head has made him bald around it and he braids his hair carefully on this side. The other side is let free. 

The Cat is everything a Cat is to be fast and sneaky, he is the least scarred of them. Proud to be a fast little witcher and able to take his prey by surprise. He is weirdly very pale compared to his Cat companions, like he prefers dark places to sunbathing.

On the other hand, Idwin is quite tall but not as tall as Letho, no Viper is. He wears his dirty blond hair short and cropped and has a scar near his ears that goes below to his neck and disappears at his shoulder. A nasty fucking claws from a beast.

The Crane, Orley is well proportioned, neither too tall nor too lanky. He has dark curly hair on top of his head with a sunny creamy complexion. The four of them don't have as many scars as their elder because they have some, they are witchers, but have not walked the Path as long. And being young meant they had been careful, not wishing to die in their first years.

“How about you don’t run and fight in the corridors.” Treyse interrupts, making the four young wichers jump.

“Master Treyse.”

“Hm… New rule needs to be added and clearly if you hadn't noticed Jaskier, you need more training too. You’re lucky it was an accident.” Treyse scolds, looking at his Cat more intently. They still all gulp. 

“If Jaskier is harmed again, you’re dead.” Eskel whispers with a threat in his voice, coming out of the shadow. For such a broad Wolf, he’s quite discrete when he wants to be. 

“Yes, Dragon Wolf.” They dutifully promise. The good thing out of this is the new friendship that is born.

Rule 6: No fights in the halls. [and writing recently there is] Fucking children.

Rule 7: [written in Geralt’s handwriting] Do not, under any circumstance, touch Jaskier’s lute.

*

The same evening, after dinner, Jaskier walks to Cyser’s side since the Cats are in the middle, he beckons Idwin, Galen and Orley to join him by showing a bottle of white gull. They stand after checking with Eskel and Geralt that they can follow Jaskier without making them angry and they follow Jaskier to an empty room. It’s set as a neutral area with carpet and sofa, pillows everywhere. It’s a nice space.

“You’re aware you can’t drink that, right little bard?”

“Little!” Jaskier shouts and opens the bottle, lifts it to his lips and the four witchers cry in alarm and move to stop him. Jaskier looks at their distressed expression and laughs from his belly, his throat is bared to them and they stare.

“Fuck, bard, don’t do that.” Idwin requests. If something were to happen while Jaskier is with them, they are going to be stringed from their intestines.

The Cat is the first one to find a good spot and sprawls there languidly, the Crane decides to sit atop the table with one feet under him, the other dangling, the Manticore chose to sit on a sofa near Jaskier so he can just snatch the bottle from his hand - for security sake - theirs for the record and the Viper chooses to be near the hearth. Jaskier is on the biggest couch. He throws with a good aim three bottles to each of his companions and takes out a human safe brevage. “To my new lute’s strings!”

“Aye!” The four witchers agree before they all take a swallow. 

To be honest, they thought Jaskier would get drunk faster but they are feeling tipsy and Jaskier seems not quite drunk yet, he’s rambling about Geralt - again - he goes on tangent and sometimes he does that with Eskel. It’s weird to hear him wax lyrical about them. Idwin could get without knowing that much detail about Geralt’s mighty sword…

“And so Ger’lt- he did that.” Jaskier mimics the move with a lot of coordination for a slightly too drunk fae. “Against a kikimora.” He stumbles and ends up on Cyser who makes sure Jaskier falls without hurting himself, so now he has his laps full of a giggle bard who is not moving away.

“You witchers and your reflexes.” He giggles some more.

“Huh?”

“Did I told you how Geralt-”

“I think it’s time for bed.” Eskel says as he enters the room. 

“Eskel!” Jaskier cries in joy. “You’re here, I was telling them about our dear Wolf.”

“Were you?" Eskel chuckles. "It's bed time for you, little bard.”

“Bed? Yes. Bed.” He says the last word, voice getting lower and suggestive. He tries to stand and falls but Eskel just catches him and carries him bridal style to Geralt's bedroom. Eskel will share tonight as well since Geralt asked him to fetch their fae. 

“Good night lads.” Eskel says.

“Night, my friends!” Jaskier shouts, perhaps a little too loudly this close to Eskel’s ears because he makes a face, mostly a fond one, very similar to one Geralt would make.

The four young witchers look at each other, then their bottle and in concert, take another mouthful.

The next morning, a new guideline is born, whispered from witcher to witcher, never written and only whistles in witchers’ pattern far away from both Eskel and Geralt so neither knows the exact words. 

Guideline 1: With Jaskier, in doubt, find Geralt or Eskel

Guideline 2: In doubt, find Geralt or Eskel

Guideline 3: In doubt-

Finding this hilarious, Yennefer adds: Rule 8: Follow the how to survive Jaskier’s guideline as a lifeline

[A whole new board is made by the sorceress and mostly empty but will soon enough be filled by anecdotes detailing witchers experiencing Jaskier. And pinned to a side, hidden but present is this new note, nobody knows who adds it, the handwriting is impossible to discern] Guideline whatever number: as a last resort, pray for Geralt or Eskel.

Some days later, when Jaskier adds to Geralt’s rule about his lute: Save for keeping it safe. [Eskel writes, soon after:] and even then please refer to how to survive Jaskier’s guideline.

And that’s only because he thinks this guideline is truly helpful to deal with Jaskier. Geralt and Eskel find it amusing that their fellow witchers need a guideline to “deal” with Jaskier’s exuberance when they just bask or enjoy it. Geralt takes the majority of this flamboyant personality. It suits them just fine.

*

Geralt comes to stand in front of his lark's legs while he is sitting on the bed and looking at Geralt in curiosity.

"What is it? You're making a face." Jaskier says, not worried yet.

"Eskel and I-" 

Geralt hesitate.

"Yes?" Jaskier prompts.

"Here. For you. So you know. You're a Wolf too now." Geralt nearly thrusts a small object into his chest. It's rond and small with a chain and Jaskier just stares at it. 

Because it's a medallion bearing a very familiar snarling wolf. The same one as any Wolf Witchers wear. Geralt is giving him a medallion, smaller and more like jewelry but the meaning and Geralt’s words are unmistakable.

"I-" Jaskier starts then swallows the next words. He opens his mouth and then simply stares at Geralt in astonishment.

"Finally speechless." Geralt teases but there is so much love in his eyes. Jaskier graps the medallion and stands up to lavish Geralt with kisses and when their lips touch, it's open mouths and tongues dancing.

He releases his witcher when air becomes an issue and puts the medallion over his head and makes it sit on his chest, puffing proudly and looking back at Geralt for his approval.

"So?" Jaskier asks. "How do I look?"

"Like you're mine." Geralt grumbles and cups Jaskier's face and kisses him again. Their medallions meet between them in a soft cling.

*

A few weeks later, witchers are gathered in the hall on demand on the Council, they are wisherping among themselves in hope that one of them knows why there is such a gathering. Vesemir whistles, sharp and strong for silence. Yennfer and Triss stand up.

"An empire without a way to perdure will be crushed in the egg." Yennefer starts and decides to rip the bandage off she says without mincing her next words: "You'll need to make new witchers." The words have barely left her mouth that voices shout and witchers stand up, weapons being drawn out.

"Silence!" Eskel roars. The sound is loud enough to echo around the entire keep. "No boys or girls will be tortured on my watch. I forbid it so fucking listen."

“Mages are all the same!” One bold witcher shouts and a lot are aye-ing.

“I am not a mage.” Eskel cuts in.

“And you’d agree to this insanity?!”

“If you would listen for one damn minute, perhaps we could go forward and explain. How the fuck are you alive with jumping to conclusion faster than it takes to draw a sword.” Eskel growls.

“Shut up, boy, let our Dragon Wolf speak. We trust him not to fuck us up.” Another witcher from the same school says. 

Yennefer nods in thanks and explains: “If you want this empire thing to work, you need to be able to have it lasting more than just you. You may live longer but you’re not immortal and you can be killed. And when your number goes down, the remaining witchers will be wiped out." 

“And how do you propose we make new witchers, mutagens have been lost to the pogroms and we’re done losing seven boys out of ten.” Merten says.

"So what, we take children and pray?" Ealdread says at the same time.

"No. No witchers will be made the old way." Eskel orders. "That's non-negotiable."

“I’ve been looking at the old mages’ notes.”

“You said you’d burn those notes!” Lambert growls. He may be Eskel’s brother, he usually doesn’t go to Council’s meetings. Perhaps he should…

“You need someone to help you-”

“We don’t need your help, witch!” Idwin shouts.

“And you, Dragon Wolf.” Cyser spits his title. “You can’t agree to that.”

“Cyser!” Treyse growls in warning.

“Fuck you!” The young Cat says and just leaves. His three new friends follow him.

It casts a chill on the hall.

“Alright, let’s postpone this.” Eskel sighs, sitting down on his chair. Jaskier puts his hand on his arm in support. “It’s going to be alright, my sunlit wolf.”

*

The atmosphere in the Keep has been a disaster since that day. 

"Why did you bring it like that?" Jaskier asks and fiddles with his new medallion, happy and still unused to its presence as happy as he is.

"I wanted to be honest with the witchers as a whole. I didn't think they would react so badly."

"Do you even know what being made into a witcher entails?"

"Can't be worse than being remade into a sorceress." Yennefer says.

"Oh. Yenna." Jaskier whispers and takes both her hands, knowing she has been hurt in the process. "I know you'll find a solution to this."

"We need to. Kingdoms and empires only last as long as there is a descendance."

Jaskier plays only joyful songs but each school is moping in their respective corridors for a long period of time and they watch the mages with suspicious eyes like they didn't when they gathered together.

The tension is so thick, Jaskier mimes cutting it with his knife during dinner. Geralt grabs his wrist.

"My lark, please."

"What? You're all being a brooding lot. I can have my own fun." Jaskier pouts.

"I have it!" Triss shouts and runs into the hall, her hair is an artful mess. 

"You have what, witch?" Merten growls out.

"A testing potion! Only some children survive the Trials of the Grasses because they need to be compatible with the mutagens. I know how to test that. It was easy to make, I don't understand why the other mages never-" Triss stops her next words and her hand comes to her month in despair. She makes a face full of pain. "Oh…" She gasps when she understands what the previous mages did. "Those assholes!" She curses. "Are lucky they are dead. How despicable."

"You mean that." The nearest witcher says, surprised at the witch’s vehemence against her own kind.

"I do." Triss answers. "I meant my words for the infirmary and I mean them now."

“You mean, we could have had all our boys survive and they never-?” Merten says, pained.

“Those assholes are lucky they are dead!” Lambert growls as well. "They had their fun with my yearmates… And to think” he punches the table. 

It’s easy to see that Lambert is the only remaining wolf his age… Even the other young witchers are at least three or four in the other schools.

“You’re a dying breed.” Yennefer speaks out. "It doesn't have to be that way nor the old way. Let us help you with making sure all the trainees survive. They will never endure your loss."

"I can't make the mutagens different. I need them strong so they make them witchers but I can make sure they live." Triss explains.

"And they will never walk the Path alone." Jaskier says, grabbing Geralt's hand beneath the table.

“If it fails-" Ealdred says.

"I won't let it." Triss says firmly. "And if it fails. It's on me."

"On us." Yennefer says.

"That's nice and all." Lambert says. "But the flowers and the process have been lost."

"Process is known by the elders." Barmin says, pointing at himself, then he looks at Ivar, Vesemir and all the trainers nod grimly.

"Flowers might still be in our old keep." Stefan says. "It is self-sufficient… I sealed it away but never could destroy it" He adds in shame.

"Alright." Eskel says. "Do we need time to think about it?"

"Nay."

"Who's in favor?"

Hands shot up faster than what Eskel expected. All witchers are giving this a chance. It's been so long since one of their kind has been born. So long since they had children in the Keep. The idea that they won't be scared to die on the mutagens and that they won't walk the Path as they did seems to heal an old wound in their heart. Eskel can only hope it’s going to work out. He doesn’t know what will happen if their attempt fails.

*

Yennefer, Istreed and more witchers than needed, mostly from the Cranes’ school are going by portal inside Aros Crafanc to look for the Feainnewedd that may still be bloomed there and see if their plan to resurrect the Trials are possible. 

Eskel is pacing his office, hidden away from prying eyes, waiting for the group to come back. Yennefer agreed that one portal could be made down the Killer but once Winter arrives, they wouldn’t be leaving the Keep, and clearly not walking down or up the Killer. 

Eskel doesn’t know if it’s a good choice… What if he’s just being selfish, wanting to have other witchers… Making others as inhuman as he is. Does he have the right to inflict that on someone else? But if they make sure they survive… They would still feel the pain. Does that make Eskel a monster? Did the fire burn his feelings away? He knows fire is forbidden because you give something away to use fire’s chaos. Did he-

“My sunlit Wolf. None of that.” Jaskier whispers. Eskel has been so deep in thought - and also he never registers Jaskier as a threat - that he didn’t notice him until he saw the fae’s feet.

“Eskel’s eyes go up to Jaskier's whole person before settling on his blue eyes Jaskier cups his second favorite witcher’s face with care and whispers: “whatever you’re thinking, don’t.” 

“I’m making new witchers.”

“Just as we all are.” Jaskier says. “I know it hurts to be remade, but those children will have a choice and we’ll make sure they live and are treated well. They will be your children, not just trainees.”

“Our children.” Eskel repeats.

“Yes. With a clan mother or father, well you’re mainly all males so clan fathers and uncles that will trained and loved them. I assured you, on this Continent, orphans or abused kids are plenty.”

“Catmint.” Eskel whispers and puts his forehead against Jaskier’s. The witcher closes his eyes and breath ink, flowers and leather- Geralt is in the room as well. Eskel relaxes a little and straightens. Jaskier turns to look at Geralt who’s also looking at them with a little smile at the corner of his lips. 

They are doing this.

Notes:

Idwin, Cyser, Orley and Galen are my new OC and will pop in my works now. 🤭
Galen was initially named Gadri and after many discussions in the AWAU Fan Server discord, he was renamed. Thanks for the help in finding the new name.

Chapter 8: Drakenburg

Notes:

Well, I guess my absence means you get 2 chapters today. Enjoy! (Side note: last chapter was in the same email notification as What if Witchers brought Jaskier to KM, you might need to check first before reading this one if you missed it.)

Since the witchers have become united, the castle of Kaer Morhen has been fully repaired outside to withstand the cold days and repaired inside once Winter was here and they couldn’t go out as often. The rooms are soundproofed, the one for meetings has been appointed as Eskel’s office since he's now the Warlord and the hall is now perfectly well reorganized. Things are that even with a schedule made up with training, tasks given and many things to do, Jaskier can feel the tension in the hall rising each day. It's more subtle than the first big issue that happened about sleeping arrangements and noise or the big fight about making new witchers that ended up finding and making a new spot in the greenhouse for the special flowers. They will go looking for orphans after Winter. That new purpose has occupied them but once the novelty of it has worn out, the witchers become twitchier as weeks progress. 

And Jaskier is right because that tension explodes one day, at the end of winter, all cooped up as they are, it was bound to happen. It’s after breakfast, two witchers come to blow over nobody knows what. Two different schools which means both schools are now fighting and alliances are made on the spot, some just join the fray and the fight is a mess. Jaskier is a little scared to watch their nastiness, there’s blood involved and he's pretty sure he's heard a bone break now and he sucks in a breath, the exit is blocked and he doesn’t know what to do. A chair nearly crashed in his face.

Eskel enters the hall, sees the disorder and smells Jaskier’s scent first, then sees him, looking small and eyes surveying the room like a startled animal trying to find an escape route. Jaskier should never smell like fear. Never! Eskel can feel the same anger he felt in Ard Carraigh rising within him, and without truly noticing casts a fast Yrden with his fingers to envelop the whole assembly. It's so powerful, every witcher kneels or falls over on the floor and can’t move further. The furniture, weapons and any tools that were being thrown crash on the floor in a thump. The strongest witchers managed to keep themselves upright by sheer will and chose very quickly to sit down. The pressure is so intense, it’s overwhelming. It's not just a cage but like the air is pressing them down. The scent of anger is nearly as strong as the sign. All eyes turn to Eskel.

“What. The. Fuck. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing? Eskel roars, each syllable pulled out of his teeth.

“We-”

“Jaskier, are you alright?” Geralt asks, rushing to his lark’s side. He's completely ignoring the dropped unmoving witchers in the hall. 

“I guess.” Jaskier answers. “I’m not scared of you, just surprised?”

“Hm.” Eskel growls, a very deep sound that resonates in the hall. “Are you well, Jaskier?” Eskel asks, tone clear but soft while his eyes glare daggers at the witchers. They would have flinched if they could from the leveling look Eskel is giving them. 

“Yes, Eskel, dearest. I promise. I don't know why I panicked. I just had nowhere to hide, which is stupid because I knew I was safe?” Jaskier concludes.

Jaskier is well aware that most of the witchers like him and didn't mean to harm him. He just didn't know what to do when the fight erupted. It’s different from when Galen, Orley, Cyser and Idwin were fighting, those four were arguing and mostly going at it for fun while the situation here was clearly just nasty. 

“Brawl all you want but no permanent injuries, no weapons, no blood, who’s down is put out of the area by someone. Friendly brawls only, sparring is during training.” Eskel declares. “And do not, under any circumstances, harm Jaskier. Even accidentally. You’re always aware of each other and spectators. You never brawl to harm." Eskel gives them the first rules he can give them. "Do. You. Understand?” He growls.

“Aye. Dragon Wolf!” they shout in obedient response. Eskel relaxes a tiny bit and his Yrden breaks. Witchers relax a little or move very slowly for a better position, kind of scared to suffer from Eskel’s ire again if they move too fast.

“Go challenge each other on the training grounds, spare, learn from each other. The weather should allow it now. We’re from different backgrounds and schools, but we are one people.” Eskel says. “We are never stronger than when we’re together and learning from each other.”

“Aye.”

“So wise, my sunlit wolf.” Jaskier whispers, having walked to Eskel, Geralty flanking him protectively while the witchers more or less go away to be more useful somewhere Eskel is not, while he's being successfully distracted.

“My lark. You should never smell scared, especially here.” Geralt says.

“I’m good.”

“Catmint.” Eskel says suddenly, his hand grabs Jaskiers’ own hand and he kisses his knuckles tenderly. Eksel breathes in and out then adds more seriously in a rough voice, amber eyes looking at Jaskier very seriously. Eskel is not teasing or joking anymore. “I promise you, you’re safe with us.”

“Oh.” Jaskier lets out and he can feel the blush coming. “I know.” He squeals out.

“Hm. Go compose, you have your face again.” Geralt says, brushing Jaskier’s hair with his hand tenderly.

“Yes.” Jaskier agrees since it gives him an excuse to flee and just blush somewhere safe and fan himself because Eskel is Geralt's perfect over side of the coin. They are the moon and the sun. Jaskier needs to just- yes… fleeing right now before he embarrasses himself by kissing Eskel square on the lips in front of Geralt. They need to talk first. It's gonna be a weird conversation…

*

The same day, the Dragon Wolf’s Council meets in an extraordinary session. Meetings have been sporadic since Eskel was appointed officially as their leader, they have mainly been used to split the workloads, make rudimentary rules to make sure witchers wouldn’t kill each other during Winter and talks about the Trials. That such a big brawl happens only now is a miracle. Witchers have - it seems - very good self-control (even the Cats). The Council’s room is also a good place to speak in private. Witchers have learnt very quickly to knock first.

Eskel has requested for each council's member to come so they can discuss the lack of true purpose they have. They can’t just stay in Kaer Morhen all year round, they won’t all be trainers either. They would go stir crazy, as it has been proved. The members are of course Vesemir, Gweld, Lambert Yennefer, each School’s Heads, if needed the one considered as the Heads’ second in command, with the addition of both Jaskier and Geralt. Eskel is in the middle, sitting in front of the big desk with Gweld and Vesemir as the closest. The others have spread through the room where they feel the most comfortable. Eskel being the one with the wall to his back can see all of them easily and if he turns his head, can see the courtyard.

Yennefer is the first one to point out they need to protect their borders now that witchers have been recognized as a country or at least as one people. As small as their borders are, they need to claim it. And perhaps make a round in Ard Carraigh. Yennefer is in contact with Bianca and the witchers stationed there; it can’t hurt to check the situation from outside Kaer Morhen. 

“Borders?” Treyse frowns.

“Yes. You are not just witchers now. You haven’t walked the Path since we beheaded the Monster-King. Which means either a strike from killing monsters or that you’re claiming lands.” Yennefer repeats with patience. She knows she cannot lose her composure now. 

"Or Both…" Eskel mutters.

“Eskel is your leader now. And, sorry to say that.” Jaskier starts. “But humans from Kaedwen are going to consider you as an army, and even as one people as we already explained.” 

“Hm.” Eskel hums, it’s such a Geralt thing to do, Jaskier smiles fondly. “So patrol.” Eskel knows some witchers will be delighted to be given this purpose.

“Patrol is going to be similar to walking the Path.” Gweld adds. “I’m sure we can find witchers willing to patrol.”

“Not killing monsters without a good price.” Jaskier scolds. “I know you! Now, that we’re going to do this, I refuse for you to take unnecessary risks and be underpaid.”

“I agree.” Merten says. “Your song has made the Path a little better but if we’re becoming a race and claiming a place to be, we need to up our game.

“We’ll need to come up with a chart.” Jaskier says already taking paper and ink out.

“After, Catmint.” Eskel requests and smiles a bright little thing when Jaskier pouts.

“So patrol.” Vesemir says.

“Patrol.” the Heads choruses in approval.

“Patrol’s group with a defined destination and timeline. They’ll need to report on what they see so we can also plan accordingly.” Yennefer says.

The groups are made in a week's time, and as soon as the snow melts and the Killer is walkable, the patrols’ groups leave, tasked with reporting anomalies, finding orphans and bringing back supplies or anything that may be useful for them, like monsters’ parts for potions. Lambert and Leocadie made a list with the help of those who are in charge of alchemy.

Four days later, a xenovox message reaches the castle and explains that many non-humans have set a camp and more at the base of Kaer Morhen. It’s confirmed by a scooting party. So when Spring has made the temperature warmer and the weather kinder, Eskel, Yennefer, Gweld, Lambert, Aiden, Geralt and Jaskier leave to see what was reported. It needs to be investigated. Since no witcher wants Jaskier in case it’s a trap - knowing he would have followed - it’s better he stays with them, under their protection. They add a group or two in the shadow. 

There are indeed people at the base of the mountain, in an area where grass manages to be green and the forest is far enough to stay safe from the wild and close enough to hunt. 

The people staying in rudimentary houses lined up in a circle with one big barn on the side where there is a cornfield and animals in a pasture. They are mostly non-humans from Kaedwen. Gweld recognises some of them, the selkie is part of the group. As soon as they see Eskel they all fall to their knees and chant “Dragon Wolf.”

“Oh mighty Dragon Wolf, Witcher King, Warlord of the North, you, who saved us when nobody came, when nobody answered our prayers, please accept our fealty to serve your empire, to be your citizen to protect and rule over. We have skill sets that could be useful to you. Please, we’ll all swear to do you no harm and make the city we wish to build at your castle’s feet worthy of your prowess.” The selkie says because she obviously is one from her sea salt scent.

Eskel is frozen at the display of people kneeling at his feet. And swearing and begging to be integrated into his empire ? Eskel clears his throat very quietly and with his deep slow voice says: “Don't- huh. Rise.”

“My Lord?” The woman asks. “Are we not worthy-”

“You are.” Eskel cuts in immediately. “I… A city here? With- We could use a few skill sets, yes, like cooking or mending clothes?” Eskel says in his deep voice, slow pattern speech making it hard to hear he’s babbling quite badly the first things that comes to his mind.

“Of course! We’ll build Drakenburg here and-

“Drakenburg?” Gweld repeats the name with a questioning tone.

“The city name we choses during winter." The woman answers like it's obvious. "We wish to honor the Dragon Wolf.”

“Good name, my lady.” Jaskier smiles, taking hold of the conversation before any witcher can answer and say something stupid or look truly lost. “We like it, right my liege ?” He adds, coming closer to Eskel to help him navigate socializing.

“Catmint…” Eskel sighs softly for Jaskier's ears only and perhaps the closest witchers.

“C’mon my sunlit Wolf. Let’s see who’s there.” Jaskier says and takes Eskel’s hand to go meet those who want to be their people. 

The people around here eye their linked hands very curiously, Eskel notices because he notices a lot, he always had. It’s hard to shut down the way he sees the world. It has kept him alive. On the other hand, Jaskier seems to either ignore or have not noticed himself the familiarity with which he behaves with Eskel. Not that Eskel minds. He doesn't. He quite likes it. Just as he had liked the slow morning when he came back from Kaedwen. He used to sometimes sleep in Geralt's room for warmth and companionship but he isn't sure why he got the wrong room that night… Anyway, that morning is burnt into his memory forever, everything about it makes it one of his fondest memories. He only wishes he could get it again. Since that morning, Geralt and Jaskier have both given permission for him to continue to invade their chamber but he always leaves first to prevent making a mess of their friendship.

Eskel is very well aware of Geralt’s presence alongside Yennefer, a few steps behind. Geralt smells content and fuck, he smells so strongly of warm bread, it’s astonishing. There is not a hint of jealousy from the way Jaskier is touching him and leading him to follow Niade, their selkie friend.

Geralt isn’t feeling jealous at all, he's safe from the attention and he quite appreciates not being on display like Eskel is. Thankfully, Jaskier masterfully redirects it to him which seems to calm Eskel a lot. Jaskier is a marvel, so pretty and enchanting. How he manages to make those chemise and doublet with embroideries look sexy is- Geralt wants to rip it apart and licks his throat and-

“Thinking about Jaskier while looking at him…” Yennefer teases.

“Hm.”

She chuckles. “Idiot.” She says fondly because the way Geralt looks at both of them… She wants to scream, but she’s too dignified to do something as plebeian as scream in frustration because her idiots are ridiculous. Yennefer shares a long and suffering look with  Idwin and Galen.

“Hm.” Geralt hums again.

Jaskier is in the front with Eskel, Gweld standing at their right while Geralt and Yennefer go and explore another part of the small built-up area - cough - the pasture where the horses are. The remaining witchers slip up and also go to explore the makeshift camp that are four houses and a stable and to talk to Drakenians, they guess the name of the citizens of Drakenburg is going to be.

The tour is very fast-paced, all the people currently living here are refugees from Kaedwen and a few others that were saved by witchers and decided to try their luck with them. If witchers had decided to stop that unification under Eskel, those people would have suffered but as it is, witchers have people to protect now. 

*

They are kindly invited by Niade and it seems she is the appointed Aldewoman of Drakenburg.

“Are you not too far from the sea?” Jaskier asks her, because he has never been able to speak to any prisoners in Ard Carraigh.

“Better free under the Dragon Wolf’s empire than captured again while I rest on the beach… I’ll miss it but… I will survive as long as I have water.”

“Some witchers could take you there.” Eskel offers, thinking about it like a contract and knowing it could help distract a few of them.

“They would, my liege?”

“Hm… Something to discuss with them. Or our mages could make the water bath like the sea? An idea to explore.”

Niade is looking at Eskel like he’s a divine being. Eskel looks deeply uncomfortable. Aubrey who’s the nearest coughs and it prompts Jaskier to launch another question. Eskel just watches the bard very fondly, diverting attention and extracting so much information along the way. 

“Beauty, Brain and Bravery in a delightful package.” Eskel whispers suddenly and Jaskier gasps, looking at him with his big blue eyes. “It is no wonder Geralt is so fond of you.” He adds, like he needs an excuse to have said that. Galen gives money to Idwin under Gweld watchful gaze who knows those two are now protective of Jaskier since they became friends but they are still young witchers and don’t have the best impulse control. 

“Geralt?” Niade asks, a little startled to hear another name brought up when their Warlord and his lover are so cozy.

“My best friend.” Eskel says with an equal expression of wonder as he gives Jaskier. It’s very unsettling for the outlookers.

“Geralt is very dear to us.” Jaskier says. “He’s-"

Eskel and Jaskier share a look, a quick but meaningful one and huh? That's truly something to explore later. Jaskier giggles and leans on Eskel to whisper, so low that only Eskel hears: "Really? So long and never?"

"Hm."

"Alright. Tonight. Or later."

Eskel nods at later.

Jaskier has his composing face on. What is their bard planning… Something good from the smell of it.

*

Eskel sends a messenger to the Keep to have a few of them come to Drakenburg to help improve the camp into something looking more like a village. Eskel also orders some to stay here as protectors in rotation. It will give the remaining fretting witchers a purpose.

At the same time, like promised, the Drakenians have been assigned the tasks witchers are not fond of or good at like mending or cooking. Drakenians also help with farming and taking care of animals. This way, they feel like they deserve the witchers’ protection. Jaskier and Yennefer both pointed out that their people need to feel like they are making a fair exchange. Witchers can get behind that. It’s like a contract’s pay. 

*

Tonight happens to be with too many Drakenians and witchers in close quarters so that conversation cannot happen now… They are staying outside because the weather is kind and the fire is strong. Geralt can feel the looks some Drakenians give him when Jaskier nestles himself onto his arms with Eskel staying at the other side of the fire, speaking with Niade, Gweld and Yennefer by his side. Lambert and Aiden are talking to a dwarf about who knows what. Galen and Idwin are playing cards and whispering furiously as they do.

“Once we’re back home.” Jaskier whispers. “We need to talk about something.”

“Something?” Geralt repeats with a glint.

“Not that kind.” Jaskier pinches Geralt’s arm. “Well, not entirely.”

“Is that so?” Geralt murmurs.

“Don’t make me hard now.” Jaskier hisses under his breath. “Be nice.”

“Geralt?” a dwarf asks when he and his companions arrive with a caravan behind them.

“Yarpen.” Geralt greets with a nod but doesn’t make a move to stand-up. He’s good where he is and well Jaskier is hiding the fact that he wants to be somewhere else. Geralt can smell the surprise from his position. 

“And your bard.” Yarpen says.

“Yarpen.” Jaskier replies with a deliberately flat voice. Huh, way to kill a boner .

“Heard about the shit in Kaedwen. Glad to see you both safe.” The warrior says when he understands that antagonizing the bard is not going to win any favor from his friend.

“Thanks.” Geralt answers when he feels Jaskier tenses. Clearly he’s still bitter about Yarpen’s behavior. That was partly Geralt’s fault. The warrior only copied him… It’s nice to see him minding his behavior around Jaskier when he realizes their position. Geralt never wants to smell him upset.

“Niade, supplies are here.” Yarpen shouts to the leader of Drakenburg.

“Great. This is Eskel, our lord.” Niade introduced them. 

“The Dragon Wolf.” Yarpen gives a courtesy nod.

“Yarpen?” Eskel greets having heard the name Geralt called the dwarf. “Leading the supplies’ caravan?”

“I am. My man and I are good at it.”

Eskel nods and is thankful when Yennefer takes the lead.

“Witch. Not fucking the witcher anymore?”

“No.” Yennefer chuckles. “As you can see, his heart is otherwise occupied.” She smiles at her friends.

“Huh?.”

“A lot has happened since the mountain, dwarf.”

“It seems I missed an episode.” He agrees.

“Come sit, I'll fill you in.” Yennefer grins.

Yarpen laughs and does as he’s told. He finds a drink and laughs at the witch’s tales.

Chapter 9: Under the Dragon Wolf’s rule

Notes:

Hi! Thank you for your support, your comments keep the bunny fed.

I post this now since I think the chapter is done (hopefully I didn't forgot any events I wanted to put plotwise).
Enjoy!

After staying for a few days in Drakenburg, Jaskier can see how the small village will become a beautiful city where any race will be free to roam and live in peace. Jaskier has already written a melody for Drakenburg. It’s going to be soft and sweet yet powerful, exactly as the city will be one day, especially under the rule of the Dragon Wolf. 

“Composing already?” Geralt whispers, his breath ghost against Jaskier’s skin. 

“Hm hm.” Jaskier hums, eyes still closed.

“My Lark.” Geralt purrs, and nuzzles his hair since Jaskier is sprawled on top of him this morning. The curtains are badly closed and a little ray of sunshine peeks in their room. Jaskier is feeling comfortable where he is and doesn’t want to move. Geralt is warm and still naked so Jaskier kisses and licks his chest, neck then goes up blindly and kisses Geralt’s mouth. His witcher’s hands find his lower back then his ass, the other comes to rest on his neck to deepen the kiss some more, mouths opening so their tongues can dance together. They play until Jaskier needs to take a breath, he comes to press soft licks to Geralt’s neck in return.

“You wanted to talk?” Geralt whispers absentmindedly.

“Am I not distracting you enough?”

“You are.” Geralt growls and makes their cocks slide together and Jaskier gaps. “That’s why you should be the one to talk.” Geralt taunts.

“Mean.” Jaskier moans and rubs against his lover. “I wanted to know if Eskel and you- Oh? Do that again.” Jaskier raps when Geralt’s fingers go between his asses. He’s still wet from yesterday.. Fuck… 

Being with Geralt feels like a revelation each time. It’s hot and sweet, too much and never enough: perfection. They slide in and out, in synchronicity. It doesn’t matter how they do it or what they do. The pleasure is always absolute and infinite, Jaskier never wants it to end. He can feel the oldest form of magic in the air, taking the space and making him feel hot and adored. 

“Always so beautiful.” Geralt growls and bites at Jaskier’s shoulder, licking and making his teeth latch on his skin without breaking it. Geralt would never hurt Jaskier (never again) but seeing his marks on Jaskier’s smooth skin really does it.

Geralt loves being able to reduce Jaskier to moans and whimpers, it doesn’t matter who tops or bottoms. Anything and everything about him seems to make Jaskier lose his composure and Geralt is addicted to it. Seeing Jaskier’s magic release his fae’s form is a treat, seeing that little creature, all white ears and cute antlers with flowers over his head being helpless and willingly so, is better than any drug. Geralt never seems to get enough. Right now, he’s being ridden to death by Jaskier, his eyes are closed, lips apart, and petals falling on them from his crown. His hands are fisted on Geralt’s chest where his medallion vibrates very softly. If Geralt wasn’t a witcher, he would think himself entranced but he can’t be. That he is, has only to do because he let himself be and not from magic. His medallion doesn’t vibrate from Jaskier casting anything. His lark just can’t control himself and dance with the chaos around them. Geralt likes that he makes Jaskier lose control. He feels very smug about it.

“I know you’re smiling, witcher.” Jaskier tries to scold.

“Hm.” Geralt teases by caressing Jaskier’s flank.

Fuck, their love making feels more real than any encounter he had in his long witcher’s life. 

“Geralt.” Jaskier moans breathlessly.

The white wolf growls again, powerless to do anything else. “Eskel and I used to when we were young.” Geralt suddenly says at the same time as he plants his feet on the mattress and moves upward, Jaskier shouts and they don’t talk for a while. It’s impossible to form words. They pants and let themselves feel the heat, their points of contact, their movements and hear their breathing getting shorter and laborious as they love each other.

“You did?” Jaskier finally stutters. “Of course you did. God…”

“I love you.” Geralt says and Jaskier lunges to kiss him then comes to a stop and whispers: “doesn’t mean you don’t love him too.”

“I’m with you.”

“But if you could have him too?” Jaskier asks and moves again, slowly to make them enjoy it longer.

“I-” He starts then Jaskier’s clench and Geralt grips his hips and Jaskier laughs delightedly which makes him clench harder. “Fuck.” Geralt grits his teeth, willing himself not to come yet.

“Could we? If it’s Eskel?” Jaskier begs with his sultry breathless voice. He doesn’t need to do that to make Geralt agree. Fuck, that voice sends shivers down the witcher’s spine, make his chest tights and his heart misses a beat. 

“Fuck… Deprived little fae. Only Eskel-” Geralt manages to say through the lust wave that crashes into him at Jaskier’s display. Geralt finds his bard to be transcendent when he sings but right now he’s- no word could do him justice. Marvelous naughty creature. He’s all his. It makes all this even better. Whatever he endured, whatever good he did, if this is his reward, he’d do it all over again, just to have Jaskier in his arms. 

“Only Eskel and you, my Wolf.” Jaskier promises and makes a motion perfectly aimed to pleasure himself.  Geralt loves it when he takes what he likes from him. Jaskier moans again, he moves up and down, and purrs: “C’mon my love, claim me.”

Geralt roars, iron control finally breaking, the beast is out and will please his mate. If his love wants to be claimed, then he will obliged. There’s no finesse left, but it’s more than alright.

They are, of course, late for breakfast.

*

Eskel doesn’t see Jaskier or Geralt for the whole morning, he’s taken in a meeting with his close council which is composed of only Gweld, Vesemir and Yennefer. It’s about Drakenburg, the city at Kaer Morhen’s feet. What should be their next course of action? Eskel more or less already claimed it as his so there’s no take or going back from it. Besides, Niade would never allow it. She explains in great details how whether he wants it or not, he’s their liege and they are his subjects. How the fuck did that happened? Eskel pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs quite dramatically.

“You did make quite the entrance in Ard Carraigh.” Yennefer reminds him with a devilish grin. "You saved them. You're their hero."

“Ugh…”

“That’s on you, son.” Vesemir says with mirth.

“Don’t look at me.” Gweld adds when Eskel’s eyes find his.

“Fuck you.” Eskel retorts with his usual deep slow tone, which only makes them chuckle harder, those bastards. 

“Drakenburg, in honor of their liege.” Gweld says again, just to tease.

It’s a tough crowd right now. Eskel wants to flee again… He knows he can’t and so he won’t but the temptation is high. And his family is not helping at all with the tightness he’s feeling like his freedom is going away with the duties and title he has to bear.

“You’re not alone, son.” Vesemir immediately amends when he smells the sour scent of anxiety from Eskel. Gweld also comes closer and claps Eskel’s shoulder in a firm hold.

“Never.” Gweld swears.

“A city with different races is good. Different skill sets and knowledge.” Yennefer says. “Niade must have repeated her speech so she could have good arguments in favor of us taking them under our protection.” Yennefer pauses. “Besides, a safe place for non-humans can only grow.”

“And brings problems.” Eskel sighs.

“Perhaps.” Yennefer agrees. “But we’ll be ready for them and they will come.”

“We will.” Eskel says firmly. He won’t allow for them to be taken by surprise again like with the pogroms that nearly wiped them all. “So what skills do we need and will people want to live in Kaer Morhen? The Killer is too unpredictable a road to be used on a daily basis.”

“Not repairing it until we are sure we’re safe.” Vesemir growls. 

“If Drakenburg needs it, I’ll make a portal.” Yennefer nods. 

“Wards.” Eskel says, a non-sequitur. “You need to continue strengthening the wards around Kaer Morhen against portals.”

“Indeed. I‘m nearly finished.” Yennefer grins. “It would take the whole of Aretuza and Ban Ard to come through a portal inside Kaer Morhen.”

Eskel smiles nastily and then continues to talk about all the topics they needed to address.

*

With Drakenburg being built from the ground, it also solves the first issue of looking for children. Niade has made an orphanage for the poor souls that have lost their parents to the monster-King, natural disaster or who have fled their home. Those children are often found by the different caravan of merchants that spread the news of a safe place. Yarpen and Lyari are both traveling back and forth. Some witchers have now joined them on their travels to give protection. They are really doing this: being an empire and in a way going on a strike, refusing to slay monsters for scrap. Eskel knows monsters will multiply in the meantime and innocent bystanders will suffer, but that’s a sacrifice he’s willing to make and a burden he will carry if it means his people, his kins are safe.

“You’re not alone in this.” Rennes says. “We all agreed to it.”

“I know.” Eskel sighs.

“Go to bed, Eskel.”

He nods and leaves, going up to his room. Jaskier stands there, to his surprise. “Come rest with us.” He says and takes his hand to lead him to Geralt’s room, the one right next door.

“C’mon, my wolves, disrobes and bed.” Jaskier requests as he takes the spot near the wall, wraps in a blanket, Geralt comes to rest against his lover and opens his arms for Eskel to follow. He’s powerless to refuse. Geralt wraps them in another blanket and Eskel can breathe the ink, leather, wood and flowers scent they both give. He sighs and goes boneless.

“Sleep well my loves.” Jaskier whispers. 

“Hm.” Geralt hums softly.

Eskel doesn’t reply. He’s already gone to the world.

“We need to break down the wall between your rooms and get a bigger bed.”

“We don’t even-”

“Geralt, Eskel loves you, you love him, we love each other. I already adore Eskel and I hope he likes-”

“He adores you just as fondly.” Geralt cuts in.

“Exactly. We love each other. We’re making it work. Sleep now, stupid talk tomorrow.”

“Hm.”

*

A loud bang startles them awake.

“Get decent!” Lambert’s voice shouts. And the asshole bangs the door one more time.

“We’re coming.”

“Ugh, I don’t need to know that, get dressed!”

Jaskier moans very loudly to be a little shit. Both wolves are watching him like they want to devour him.  

Lambert hits the door again and Jaskier laughs.

“Unfortunately, we’ll have to postpone our talk.” Jaskier pouts.

“Hm…”

“Seems like duty calls.” Eskel complains as well, and gets up.

They arrive at the hall shortly after. They know Lambert is a little shit but he wouldn't make a joke on important matters.

“What’s so urgent?” Eskel says, voice hard and steps even as he takes his place with Jaskier and Geralt behind him. They sit. 

“A patrol near Aerdin’s borders saw an army moving up. They’re definitely coming into Kaedwen, King Syzmon says we shouldn’t let them come without repercussions and I agree” Vesemir explains.

“And there’s the risk, they will come for us… And destroy all they find in between.” 

“So we have to make a move?”

“Are you still with me?” Eskel asks.

“Dragon Wolf.” is the immediate reply.

“Then we march to war.”

“Aye!”

“Let’s prepare as much as we can.”

Eskel goes down the Killer to Drakenburg again to discuss with Niade. The selkie has a spine of steel. She doesn’t panic and starts ordering people around to make sure their supplies are ready so the witchers can be available back and forth between the battlefield and their home.

“Just in case, should it become necessary, Kaer Morhen is open for Drakenians. You would be safe in Kaer Morhen.”

“I doubt that will be necessary with you going to protect us.” She smiles and it grows when Eskel looks surprised at their faith.

“I also wanted to discuss having some lad become witchers.” Eskel says to change the topic.

Niade looks at Eskel long and hard. “Isn’t that a three boys out of ten?”

“We have been working on a testing potion.”

“Still experimental?

“Hm.”

“I trust you then, I trust you now.” She bows, she has no experience in those matters, talking now won’t earn her his favor nor would it be appreciated as she senses it’s a sore subject. They all have their domain of expertise and that is not hers so she will defer to witcher to know better - she will ask around and make her opinions known when she has more elements to have an educated opinion. She has a feeling, witchers may not be the most sensible people with how they were raised. Having non-witchers give their insight will be helpful to improve their ways. 

“Thank you Niade.”

She smiles and her face takes an edge: “war first.”

“War first.” He agrees and gives a reassuring smile when her smell has a fear edge to it. It’s pretty normal but Eskel doesn’t want the people who have come to trust and rally him to be scared because they are being attacked. 

*

Thanks to the patrol, Drakenians, mages and witchers have the time to move and make a camp near San Glean - the city has been evacuated just in case - and prepare for the arrival of the Aedirn army as it has been identified. The scooting parties report their number and who is leading. They also write down that their uniforms are made of leather tunic and hauberks colored in back, gold and red in rosette sewn into the shoulder. Their weapons of choice were black, gold, and red bows.

“It’s the fucking Aedirnian Special Forces.” Treyse growls. “Why are they crossing Kaedwen borders?”

“Might be the elven refugees’ fault if one could call it a fault to try to survive and flee to a free city.” Gaetan answers.

“So what, they are just butchering a race?” Cyser growls.

“They are, master Treyse.” Lyari answers sadly having come to give a message from Niade. “We are ready.” Lyari and Yarpen are the main suppliers of Drakenburg and thus the witchers and are also good undetected messengers.

“Good.” Treyse says, standing up and once outside, whistle sharp and strong to relay a message to his brethren.

When they arrive, Yennefer makes sure they have to parlay first as it is protocole. Since they are - here - in their homeland, the Aedirnians come to them. Eskel is flanked by Gweld and Lambert, Yenenfer stands to Lambert side as their court mage, behind them are Jaskier and Geralt who refused to be left out. Vesemir stands to Gweld’s right. Treyse is present with Gaetan and Letho as well. Many more witchers are hidden not so far away in case something goes wrong.

"How dare you beasts request a parlay. Those elves are to die, they are not welcome in human settlement” The captain of the army, Rayla, says. She doesn’t dismount, another slight against them.

“Watch it, girl.” Treyse growls. “Elves were present before humans, and you are in Kaedwen now.”

“And the King of Kaedwen agreed to this.”

“You don’t mean Syzmon, do you?” Jaskier taunts, voice absolutely sirupy. “Oh, but you’re just a country girl, of course you don’t know. Whatever treaties your King had with Kaedwen are being reworked as we speak.”

“Shut up whore! I know enough. Those inhumans creatures will be exterminated. And neither can you own lands. You’re mutants. You may have taken those by force, Warlord of the North, but you will never be legitimate.”

Geralt stands protectively in front of Jaskier when the Aedirnians seem to move to attack.

“Watch your tone, girl.” Eskel growls, a deep sound, eyes glaring and even though he’s on foot, he seems to look down his nose at her. She visibly bristles. Witchers are very happy to note the fear that they radiate more and more as they talk.

“Tell your King he’s no longer welcome in Kaedwen, and if he’s anything like the monster-King, he will meet my silver sword.” Eskel continues.

“Is that it…” Rayla spits on the floor, at Eskel’s feet.

“How dare you!” Jaskier shouts, enraged by the display. He had enough of people behaving that way to witchers, to his witchers. “You little bitch! You better hope we never meet again or I’ll fucking kill you bloody and you’ll learn respect!”

“Keep your pet leashed.”

Witchers growls, threat clear as a day.

"I'll do no such thing." Eskel laughs, unbothered by the woman's temper. She's so insignificant that Eskel even turns his back on her, making a waving gesture to dismiss her. And it's obvious, she doesn't appreciate it.

“Catmint, calm down. It’s not gonna be a little girl playing war that will hurt my feelings. She’s nothing.” Eskel says, calm and sweetly, cupping Jaskier’s face and making their forehead meet. Jaskier closes his eyes, and leans on Geralt who’s at his back.

“Huh?” Rayla breathes out, surprised by the tenderness and by the trio. “I should have known you were deviant.” She sneers in their direction.

“ Leave .” Eskel says, voice so even, it sounds more like a threat than an order. 

The Aedirnians go back, and as they do, a rain of arrows is falling to the witchers’ position. Eskel roars, casts a Quen at the same time as all witchers do, Yennefer makes a shield before the horses of the envoys who get thrown off by their mounts. Eskel marches to them and grabs Rayla’s uniform in one hand, drags her until he reaches the front of her camp, her struggles look so pathetic when put against Eskel’s bulk. Treyse and Letho grab the other soldiers and Gaetan is smiling so the remaining ones walk instead of being dragged on the floor as well.

“You’re despicable but you’re obeying your captain and King. Leave Kaedwen and don’t come back or I’ll annihilate you.” Eskel threatens.

“We are Aedirn special army, we won’t be cowed by your lot.” Rayla says, managing to escape Eskel’s hold - mostly because he lets her go, she straightens and orders for a retreat but her parting words are clear enough.

“So be it.” Eskel nods grimly. 

Treyse shouts to the Aedirn’s army and grins, all teeth out: “Our Dragon Wolf won’t take kindly of your trespassing again after you showed how dishonorable you lot are.”

*

In the meantime, near Ard Carraigh, where the situation is stable thanks to Bianca and the witchers still stationed there, a patrol comes across an orphanage as requested by Eskel to find lads to become witchers. They have already taken two boys of four and five years respectively because they were smart and healthy. And because they agreed after they exposed the risks.

So they are entering the next place, it’s not bad per say but not good either. Those places are unfortunately always without that much money. They explain as they did each time and some boys seem interested in the idea but one is not healthy at all, coughing… Should they let him die here or try their luck with him anyway? Their school’s heads never said it would be a hard choice to select children for their painful trials… Triss has better manage to make the testing potion work.

“Me.” A young girl says, eyeing them, head level, only her eyes watch them from her small height. It’s adorable. Remus is already pretty sure she would survive. She has a fire burning deep inside her. 

“Name?”

“Lisa.”

“C’mon here child.” And Remus is happy to see her come to him with even steps and not that much fear. “Want to become a witcher?”

“You’re gonna tell me girls can’t be witchers?” She spits.

“Oh they can.” The Wolf grins. “Cats train girls.”

“Not Wolves?” She asks, pointing to his medallion.

“No.” Remus answers.

“We’re taking the lass.” Another man says, this one has a cat medallion.

“I-” the matrone starts hesitantly.

“What?” A Crane growls.

“She’s-”

She glared fiercely at the woman daring her to ruin her chance to leave this place. Remus is immediately reminded of Lambert and laughs.

“Fiery temper, huh?”

“So what?”

“Oh, you’ll do.” Remus opens his arm, she deflats at his approval and beckons her closer. When she reaches him, he puts a hand on her shoulder and makes her leave with them.

“This is Lisa. Your sister.” Axel, a Cat from his medallion, introduces. “Lisa, those two boys are Konrad and Roland.”

“Hi Lisa.” They greet, in unison.

That night around the fire, Lisa is not sleeping while her two brothers - they are not her brothers - her brother from her father’s first wife who managed to flee has been given away. If Lisa can become a witcher, she’ll be strong enough to get her brother back. She wants Leonard back with her. Why couldn’t they stay together?

“Child?” Cedric, the Cat says and slowly makes her lean on him. She latches on his kindness and weeps in his arms.

“He kept hurting us…” She whispers, tears coming to her eyes, years of abuse finally being let free “And then he killed my mum before a monster killed him.” 

“Hm.” Remus says. Her father seems to be a true asshole, as much as a saint as Lambert’s own father. Both witchers look at each other above her head.

“You’re safe now. Being a witcher won’t be a kind process, but we can make you strong.”

“I want that.”

Notes:

Lisa and Leonard in the orphanage are for Clark on the AWAU Fan server. I changed the characters to fit Zeir request and I hope I'll do it right. The little sideplot born from this will take place later in the story.

Chapter 10: Burn, Monsters, Burn

Notes:

Did I stole a famous title to make the chapter's title? Yep!
Enjoy!

Eskel is hunting in the woods for food - not that it is needed - in order to distract his mind from wandering back to Aedirnians trespassing into Kaedwen and the fact that the monster-King has allowed the purge of non-humans, that the Aedirn King still allows it and more than that, that he has a special force to deal with them. How bigoted are those human rulers?

He stops short at a rustling sound and breathes in deeply. Huh? Eskel smells a very tired, reeked human, a man and he’s on foot. He hides, and watches as a man, dirty and dragging his feet walks in the direction of his camp. He follows behind, silent as only a witcher can be in a forest with leaves everywhere. 

The witchers guarding the camp watch said man falls on his knees and bows so deeply his forehead touches the ground. The witchers share a look of complete bafflement and both turn their gaze to Eskel, having heard him coming.

“Sit up.” Eskel rumbles and walks to be in front of the poor man, who doesn’t move and trembles more, from terror and exhaustion alike.

“Please.” He begs, voice breaking. “I have come to beg the Dragon Wolf for aid. Please, Lord. How much does it cost to put a contract to kill a monster? I’ll pay any price, anything. Please. The monster has taken my child - all our children.” 

And fuck, shit, that can’t be good. Sentences like that mean innocent lives are lost forever.

“Sit up.” Eskel says as kindly as he knows how and puts a hand on said man’s shoulder to steady him so he can look at him. “What’s your name?”

“Jan Kelner.

“Where are you from?”

“Leyda.” He answers shakily, not daring to stare at the man whose face bears terrible scars that would have killed a lesser man.

A day at witcher’s speed or on horse, certainly more for a human on foot who bears the healing marks of a serious beating. 

“Tell us everything.” Eskel commands and the man, Jan, manages to stutter an explanation barely coherent but Eskel understands what he says and thinks Ladies of the woods… He wants to sigh, of all the foul creatures, those ones are truly nasty.

“Letho, Coen, Aiden.” Eskel whistles sharply. Those three step forward at his call. Eskel knows the whole camp can hear the conversation ongoing and that many have come to watch. They can be so curious sometimes… 

“We leave tonight.” Eskel orders. They aren’t that far and it’s not said that Aedirn will come back. The King may need time to deliberate if attacking Kaedwen is worth the hassle. He gives his directive to Gweld, Jaskier attaches a dandelion to his gamberson and Geralt cups his neck so their forehead rests against each other for a second and nods, not saying a word.

“Lord?” Jan gasps with hope.

“We will kill your monsters.” Eskel says.

“How much does-, what price, Lord?”

“No price.” Eskel answers and his lips pull his scars in a crooked smile. “I’m the Warlord of the North, aren't I? Your children are mine to guard.”

*

Jaskier takes the man into his capable hands, and leads him to a log near the fire and gives a blanket and some stew. Some witchers are minding their business close enough that they could come at Jaskier's aid should he need it. Jaskier thinks they are ridiculous overgrown puppies but will keep it to himself, like a secret too precious to ever be breathed out. 

“I'm Jaskier. Well met Jan. You’re safe now. Eskel will kill your monsters.” Jaskier greets and explains, sitting near their guest. 

“Eskel?”

“The Warlord of the North.” Jaskier smiles cheekily.

“You call the Warlord by his name, Lord. I am sorry for not greeting you properly earlier.” 

“Oh, Jaskier is fine, my good man. I am but a humble bard.”

“You’ve never been humble a day in your life.” Geralt grumbles teasingly.

“The betrayal. How should I even survive this slander against my person?!” Jaskier says, both hands coming to his heart and he fakes fainting.

“Don’t hurt yourself with your dramatics. Eskel wouldn’t want you injured.” Geralt requests. “And never would I, my Lark.”

“My wolf. I’ll be good.” Jaskier smiles softly, full of love.

Geralt nods and goes to his own task, brushing his fingers through Jaskier’s hair in front of Jan who doesn’t know what to think anymore. It reminds him of his wife. The tenderness and affection, the love he can see as clear as daylight. God, his wife… And his daughter. 

*

Three days later, coming back to the camp are Eskel, Letho, Coen and Aiden. 

Jaskier is the first to greet Eskel, he cups his dirty and tired face with his hands with his usual gentleness and Eskel closes his eyes to lean on him. “Catmint.” 

Jan’s eyes go wide and fearful because this man, the bard has been kind to him and is clearly Geralt’s lover and if he is cheating on the Warlord- Because the Warlord asked for no price but Jan has nowhere to go now, so if the Warlord kills his monster, he would serve this man but he doesn’t want to betray him before even entering his service.

“Jan?” Eskel asks, when his scent turns sour with apprehension.

“Huh…” Jan chokes.

“What’s wrong?” Jaskier asks, surprised.

“Little flower, your display with both Geralt and Eskel is scaring our guest.” Yennefer chuckles.

“Oh? I’m sorry?” Jaskier answers in Jan’s direction.

“You’re not sorry, Catmint. You enjoy creating chaotic situations. Has our wolf been taking care of you?” Eskel teases their fae while his eyes look at Geralt.

“He has.” Jaskier shudders, voice near a moan.

“Good.” Eskel smiles, Geralt blushes under his stare. They have yet to talk but they know already. Talking can wait a few more days, talking is just to make sure of their consent and agreement. The love is here anyway.

And when their greeting is done, Eskel unstraps a bag from his shoulder and pours the content at Jan’s feet and through the horror of what he’s seeing with those weird shaped monstrous heads, Jan recognizes his own Lord’s head. Lord Borys’s expression is fixed forever into one of shock as much as Jan’s own expression is as he looks up at the Warlord.

“He was on it.” Eskel says furiously to Jan.

“He’d made a deal with them,” Coen rumbles. Jan can see the anger and feel it around him, witchers around them understanding what the man, the monster did and are frankly absolutely furious. It’s palpable in the air. “He decided to trade all the children of your village for a promise that none of his mistresses would ever bear him bastards.” The Griffin spits, behavior far from their chivalry.

“That’s the last of his worries now.” Aiden smirks, but there is no joy in it.

And to Jan’s utter surprise, when he was distracted by the four neatly severed heads on the floor, the Viper witcher, Letho, has put down, very gently despite his scowl, on her two feet, his little daughter, his Julita. She doesn’t hesitate a second to run to him, he sank to his knees, just before she crashes onto his opened arms and they both cling to each other tightly. They weep together. Jan can barely believe this. His Julita, his darling, his little girl is alive. Alive. He can feel her heartbeat and her warmth. She is alive.

The Warlord asked no price for this contract, but for this. Oh for this, he deserves all the prizes. He was already going to find a way to pay this contract but for this. Julita still in his arms, he cannot let her go or he will think her an illusion, he turns to look at the Dragon Wolf and requests, voice unwavering, “Lord, I beg you: let me serve you all my days.”

The Dragon Wolf looks at him like Jan has never been looked at before, like his cat-slitted eyes, as amber as fire and as sharp as his swords can see everything, every secret lay out in the open to be taken, read, seen, judged. Jan holds his breath fearing to be found lacking.  

“I accept,” Eskel says with his deep unhurried voice, and Jan can breathe again.

*

A quarter of witchers stays at the frontier, just in case and Yennefer would open a portal should it be needed, but for now, they let the matter rest. Eskel has been barricaded in his office since they are back. He has allowed Yennefer, Gweld and Vesemir entry to discuss whatever is needed but Jaskier has been called a distraction and barred from coming in… 

"Don't take it to heart, lark." Geralt whispers, on the second night they haven't seen Eskel come to their bed.

"But."

"Eskel needs time to think and he doesn't like to be swarmed all the time."

"Are you saying I'm too much?" Jaskier asks, straightening away to look at Geralt's face while still being sprawled on top of him.

"No." Geralt answers. "I like it. It's just Eskel isn't like me and sometimes he needs space because he always puts others before himself."

"Then we should remind him to take care of himself!" Jaskier argues.

"Tomorrow."

"Alright. Tomorrow." Jaskier agrees. "Kiss me my Wolf."

*

The next day, thankfully, Eskel eats in the hall. 

"Eskel!" Jaskier can't help it and rushes to his sunlit wolf, hesitating a second to touch him.

"Catmint." Eskel says, spreading his legs and grabbing Jaskier so he sits on one of his legs and Eskel can hug him and nuzzle him so he smells like both Geralt and himself again. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt takes his usual place without fanfare.

"Seriously, just fuck already and spare us those displays?" Lambert growls.

“They won’t stop even after, you do know that, right.” Gweld inputs and Lambert makes a face.

"Rayla will have spread rumors about a harem already…" Yennefer says teasingly.

"Who cares." Eskel mumbles, not moving to release the bard.

"It's not done." She advises most likely for the form, knowing the answer already.

"Says whom?" Geralt grumbles.

"I'm a witcher made Warlord." Eskel says roughly. "I can, damn well, do whatever I want in my bed."

"So it's official?" Jaskier grins. "You're ours now."

"More like your mine, Consort." Eskel teases and makes a biting move in Jaskier's direction. He gasps, eyes going so wide so fast, Eskel can barely see the blue anymore.

"Consort?" He repeats.

"Hm. I need someone who knows all that bullshit and will have an excuse to whisper in my ears." Eskel explains.

"Sounds about right." Geralt grins.

"You talked together!" Jaskier says outraged.

"We did." They answer at the same time. Jaskier is shuddering in delight and anticipation.

"That's so- and who's Geralt then?"

"Your bodyguard and my concubine." Eskel chuckles when Geralt makes a face because they didn’t talk about that yesterday.

"Our wife then." Jaskier agrees, teasingly.

"Hm. Wife, husband, whatever he is ours." Eskel grins and cups Jaskier's neck, fingers going through his hair, he whispers: "May I?"

Jaskier nods and then he has to close his eyes because ye God, Eskel can kiss. It's different from Geralt and still so good. He moans because what else can he do when he's being kiss breathless and so damn possessively his toes curl like Eskel is trying to- 

"Fuck." Jaskier gasps and hides his face in Eskel's shoulder. He must reek of lust for a mile.

"You alright there?" Geralt teases, sharing a look with Eskel.

"I'm taking the both of you to bed tonight." He says, nuzzles Eskel one more time and turns, asking Geralt to come closer which he does and then he kisses his white wolf.

"Sure you can handle taking both of us?" Eskel grins in a husky tone making Jaskier shivers. 

"I will." He purrs to his wolves.

"Alright boys." Yennefer cuts in. "I'd like to eat."

"Says the woman who made orgies everyday." Jaskier taunts.

"Little flower." She warns amiably. 

"Alright, alright." Jaskier agrees and they all move to their respective sit and eat.

Jan and Julita are sitting at the Viper table where Julita is talking Letho's ears off. The Viper doesn't understand how the father can let his daughter near him,looks so relaxed and smells so content. It doesn't make sense.

Jan is surprised by the visible display because usually men don't advertise being with men, least of all having two male lovers at the same time. But who in their right mind would dare say this to the Dragon Wolf 's face? On the other hand, he's not surprised that they are lovers. The behavior in San Glean was unmistakable. It seems that he has to learn how things are done in Kaer Morhen and Drakenburg. He looks forward to it.

Lisa, Roland and Konrad are also new to the Keep and surprised by the ease with which the witchers behave and just do whatever they please without stepping on someone else’s toe like it’s a given to respect their differences. And they are also all so loyal to that man, Eskel. They don’t cower, nor beat around the bush with him, they don’t swear or promise anything but they follow him. The Dragon Wolf they use for him is full of respect and fealty. They are surprised by the fact they are treated like children and witchers at the same time, training is hard and ruthless but when it’s done, they are members of the pack with a few adults taking care of their needs. It’s interesting, close to nice; nicer than what they learnt has been the life before the Warlord rises. They are safe now, have a kind of made-up family with the School they will claim and that has no price for orphans with no name.

*

As per requested by Jan when he made notes of all that is needed to make the Keep work like a good oiled wheel, a notice has been put in Drakenburg to hire staff from maids, a head cook and commis chef to help feed the witchers because those already here works well but lacks organization, another seamstress at least, larder, a stableman and so on.

Witchers are baffled to see so many people answering to their ad. They thought they would perhaps have one or two people coming, not dozens, all swearing the text written by Yennefer, Vesemir, Treyse and Artek with only truth and eagerness in their posture and voice.

The newcomers swear that oath before a witcher to make sure they are being truthful before even coming to the Keep and this way they get competent staff.

Marlene de Trastamara takes over the kitchen with a mastery rarely seen. She has been saved by Geralt when she was turned into a wight centuries ago. She had failed the part of guest rights in a society where it was extremely important; so important, indeed, that she was forced to never satisfy her hunger until someone was willingly sharing a meal with her as she was forced to see herself in a mirror. And that someone was Geralt. It's an incredible mark of trust and character on Geralt's part to make her food and eat it with her in order to break that curse. Of course, she would come as soon as she heard witchers needed help in Kaer Morhen. She feels like she can finally pay her debt. That she’s going to serve only a fellow Wolf doesn’t matter. Geralt is the White Wolf and the name Dragon Wolf can only mean the Warlord must be kin to her savior. And if her savior is here, she is helping him too. That’s enough for her. Witchers are more honorable than many humans.

Marlene has gained a few close friendships since being human again so she brings Emilia, a good baker that has the misfortune to lose her shop because wheat has been poor the previous season and so she couldn't bake as much and thus couldn't pay her taxes…

Aniela, becomes the Mistress of the Wardrobe, a pompous title given by Jaskier when he finally gets someone to talk fashion with. And if he manages to have her tell her own tragic backstory, Jaskier has made no promise not to write it into a song, the maiden that was saved from a werewolf still needs a better title.

It's a recurring story for the staff to have been saved by a witcher, Tadeusz their larderer has been saved from a chort when he was a child and he never forgot. Andrzej, their stablemaster was saved by a Crane, from a siren near their own Keep. 

Staying in Drakenburg are also newcomers like Yaevinn, an elven historian, comes to them fleeing Aedirn on Lyari's words that he would be welcomed and Bertol Kazmer, a dwarven armorer who comes thanks to Yarpen. Little by little, Kaer Morhen and Drakenburg grow under the protection and care of the Warlord of the North.

Jaskier understands that Eskel also needs help with the new paperworks he gets and so helps with the correspondences but everything else needs to be taken care of by someone else who could put up with that because Eskel can't do everything. When Jaskier complains about Eskel's hours to his four witcher friends, Orley says that he wouldn't mind helping. He's not fond of walking the Path and killing monsters nor is he invested in creating new shit like his brethren. He has always been a little weird so if he can help and be left alone, that's good.

Eskel kisses Jaskier like a starving man seeing food for the first time and hugs Orley, claps him on the shoulder and gives him his new title of Warlord's Secretary. 

Galen makes a new weird concoction to celebrate. Cyser and Jaskier try to bake something and Idwin has been tasked to distract the man so it's a surprise. They end up quite drunk, like they always do when left unsupervised. 

*

All seems well, until Eskel has to go defend the people who have put themselves under his protection.  

Notes:

Jan’s part is heavily inspired by Live On a Hill Against the Sky (part 11 of AWAU). I checked with Inex herself if it was ok so we're good =)

Chapter 11: Behold the Dragon, his Salamander and Dragonnet

Notes:

All my thanks to NightAceDragon for helping me out with improving my song. I had so much fun writting it, I hope you will like it too.

The refrain chants during their campaign and since then by their people like a prayer is from Dragon, Salamander and Dragonnet. A song written by Jaskier, the bard and it goes like this:

So behold the Dragon

And watch his Dragonnet.

Now that their fire is here

We put monsters to the pyres.

Look at his Salamander

And behold the Dragon.

“Dragonnet!” Lambert growls, faking anger and glaring so fiercely it should burn Jaskier but the bard only raises an eyebrow and smiles cheekily. 

"It fits." He replies non-pulsed.

"I am not a fucking little dragon!"

"Eskel is the Dragon and as his little brother you are a little Dragon." Jaskier argues. 

"Fuck you! There's nothing fearsome about a little dragon!" 

"Well, it fits." Jaskier smiles.

"Bard…" Lambert growls, looking very menacing with an evident threat dancing in his eyes and the only action Jaskier does is to hug him: "you're so adorable!"

Aiden chuckles and mouths soundlessly: "should I get Eskel or Geralt as per the guideline?"

Lambert looks at Jaskier and breathes in the smell of content bard and tightens his grip for a second then dislodges the bard: "alright, alright, let me go."

Jaskier spins and leaves to go who knows where.

"Come show me how much of a dragon you are, Wolf." Aiden whispers and sashays to the forest so they get a little privacy, or as much as they can get around their base camp near Mirt.

A fair amount of witchers are still near the Aedirn’s borders to watch out for a retaliation and scoot for troubles. They are also helping the local villages such as Leyda whose baron has been changed for a better one. Eskel trusts Aubry to lead the teams.

Eskel took the rest of the witchers willing to go to war which is a huge amount while those like Vesemir choses to go back to Kaer Morhen and keep things running there. They are going to Caingorn to defend people against monsters, wyverns from what Eskel got. Because their rulers refuse to do anything. Better the farmer than the deers for the royal's hunts… And Eskel… Eskel has chosen a side, he has decided that neutrality was to be damned and they were doing this. 

Eskel still tries the diplomatic route to please Jaskier - and Yennefer - who would like to be able to say witchers aren’t just mindless beasts but Eskel knows they will get a new refusal, as they did in Ard Carreigh, but promises no inferno this time. And just as he expected, the Prince refuses their help and the missive doesn’t paint their Prince in a better light than what he expected. His reply shows his mistrust and arrogance since he laughs at paying for a contract to kill monsters to help peasants. Eskel wants to burn the missive, but Jaskier’s hands take the offending piece of paper and put it somewhere safe. Probably for a later use as proof.

Eskel has sworn to kill all monsters, in whatever shape and forms and so he doesn’t wait for an invitation anymore because innocents are dying, the remaining ones have asked for help. That mistrustful young man whose blood matters more than placing someone worthy in his stead is not going to stop him from interfering. He doesn’t deserve to rule if his own people chose someone else. 

* 

When they arrive in Caingorn. Eskel goes to the palace with Gweld, Lambert, Yennefer and a bunch of witchers, Jaskier and Geralt are tasked with taking care of the base camp which means Jaskier is pouting. And Coen, Eldread, Mikolaj and Jacek, and their fellow Griffins leave to hunt those wyverns. Eskel and his group come back two days later with the set of people having done their duty. 

“All good?” Jaskier asks.

“All good.” Eskel nods and hugs his bard. “Hm.”

“The Wolf in Caingorn.” He smiles. “And one song for the Griffins taking care of the wyverns.” Jaskier whispers.

“How will Geralt survive you singing about other witchers?” Eskel asks with a teasing smile. Jaskier huffs a laugh.

“I can hear you.” Geralt mumbles and presses his face to Eskel’s neck.

They don’t have time to rest when Yennefer comes back: “No rest for the wicked. People in Gelibol have decided to oust all Elves from their lands, one city in particular has hanged and cut Elves’ ears, they are burning them alive… 

“What?” Jaskier asks, frightened. “They- Why?” He hesitates and smells distressed. 

“Let’s go.” Eskel orders, feeling the rage burning bright again in his veins. He reigns it in. It doesn’t control him. He thinks of Geralt and Jaskier, of the people who trust him and calm.

“Hm. Good control.” Yennefer praises.

Eskel nods but doesn’t say more. Yennefer opens a portal, and Eskel lets the chaos loose.

That butchery makes Eskel mad and madder even when he knows that even the year prior they, witchers, would have done nothing, only watch the world go by like ghosts. It’s not living. 

Witchers managed to find some Elves that managed to flee the city when the massacres started. They are all weeping but they are alive.

Eskel stares at the humans in the city who look down at them.

“Begone monsters.”

“The only monsters I see here are yourselves.” Eskel growls. “You think burning Elves alive is fun? Has no one told you not to play with fire?” Eskel grins something ferocious and he hates the smell of burnt flesh he can already smell in the air. But he rather makes his point stands. He breathes slowly to center himself then whispers to Yennefer and the witchers will hear as well. “Make sure no innocent is harmed.”

“Yes.” She agrees and she lets her violet magic out as she watches Eskel’s fire going out. It’s as impressive as the first time he used Igni. The fact that he is no mage, that his empathy is intact, that he can make a sign for fire is terrifying. He’s not using fire like a mage, but like a witcher with the foundation of a mage. Yennefer can feel the difference, that’s not the same at all from what she knows of mage using fire. Eskel is truly a force to reckon with. He’s glorious surrounded by flames, red and orange making his eyes glow, the perfect color to match the flames. His scars pull his smile into a snarling expression. His wolf medallion reflects the lights and watches this unfold. Yennefer advances in the city by the witchers’ sides who fight those who oppose the liberation of the remaining elves in the city. Eskel is marching with Gweld and Lambert to guard him. Not that Eskel truly needs it, he’s as dangerous with his sword as he’s with his signs. Those three make quite the sight. Whispers of demons reach Yennefer and she grins. She grins as she secures some poor souls that are escorted out of the walls. She grins as she is making sure no souls are harmed before Eskel sets the city ablaze. They are taking the whole place, it’s a battlefield and corps lingers on the streets, Yennefer hates this but she grins at the humans' folly to try to wipe the Elves and think they can take them down. She knows Eskel hates it just as much, but it’s a necessary evil… There would be no more meaningless death here, it needs to be a warning. So Yennefer grins at Eskel’s display both in swordsmanship and magic. However no innocent souls will be harmed, it would show the mercy of the Warlord of the North. They fight and they rescue, it seems to last an eternity or an instant. At the end Eskel is the last to walk out and behind him the biggest city in Gelibol is burning. He’s truly the Dragon Wolf. Yennefer smiles satisfied.

“Our home!” one man yells.

“May that be a lesson not to become monsters. You’re lucky you kept your lives.” Gweld says, short cropped red hair and beard the same colors as the flames eating the wood and metal of the buildings.

“Should we send you back to Tretogor unharmed?” Lambert grins, and his red curls bounce as the flames dance.

“Mercy, Warlord of the North.” They beg.

“Tell your King that shall he become a monster, witchers will come. We are made to kill those after all.”

“The Warlord of the North is too kind.” They grovel and beg more. Istreed makes a portal near Tretogor so their message will be received loud and clear.

Eskel sighs, tired. They all go back to camp where there are elven refugees and the newcomers immediately relax when Jaskier says that witchers are with the Sandpiper.  

“Something you need to share.” Eskel asks the eve of their departure. 

“Me?” Jaskier asks faux innocence. “Well, Sandpiper is a cute name for smuggling elves.” He smiles, battling his eyeshield at him. Eskel wraps an arm behind his back and pulls him to his chest. “Catmint. Why am I not surprised?”

“Because it took you a few seconds to see what it took me years.” Geralt grumbles.

“Oh my love, my darling witchers.” Jaskier whispers and beckons Geralt closer. He does come and lets both his Lark and best friend hug him. He is surrounded by their scent and it’s good.

Before they can leave their base camp, a messenger from Holopole swears they would bend one knee to the Warlord of the North if he promises to send witchers for their monster's problems and discuss a fair exchange. Eskel agrees. 

*

Eskel feels like he can never rest, he has more paperwork that he knows what to do with and more issues than he knows where to begin or solve. He’s running himself rag, he knows both Jaskier and Geralt are trying to help but even they get more work they know what to do with. Gweld and Yennefer are also helping, and bless Jan, the man is a marvel. The keep is so well, cough, keep that Eskel feels like it’s at least an issue solved.

And amidst that mess, they are called back to Caingorn because the King of Povir has decided that since Eskel is a witcher, he shouldn’t be able to own lands. Intelligence says he wants to strike while the witchers' army is recovering and the lands not yet secured. That nobody would mind if he takes it

Eskel minds. He knows what kind of King sat in Kovir.

And, of course, it’s also at the same time, the Aedirnians are coming back from the South to finish what they started with the Elves. Eskel is pretty sure his stance in Gelibol made them move faster. Are they trying to make them split up so they are easier to defeat?

“Take Caingorn.” Yennefer says. “We’ll go South.”

“Trust us.” Jaskier continues. “Geralt and I, and Yenna, we’re going to defend the South. You take back the North. We can defend until you arrive.”

“It’s the only solution we have.” Vesemir agrees.

“Never a moment of peace.” Eskel grumbles. “Alright. I go North, you defend Ban Glean and watch out for Hagge.”

“Yes. And as soon as we’re together-” Jaskier left it off but his scent switched to lust and Eskel reel him in for a filthy kiss. “Don’t get hurt.”

“I’ll watch over Geralt.” Jaskier agrees. “We both know how he gets.”

“Hm.” Eskel chuckles. “You make sure you are both safe.”

“Be careful.” Geralt asks, not used to saying affectionate words in public but needing to say this.

“Of course.” Eskel promises.

*

Eskel is far away from them and Jaskier doesn't enjoy that.

"Don't worry so much."

"I worry." Jaskier whines, but he gives more access to his throat when Geralt begins to kiss along his jawline.

"He's going to be alright. We have to trust him."

"I trust him." Jaskier replies. "I don't trust those stupid Kovirians."

"Let's handle the Aedirnians, hm?"

"You're right."

"We're always separated walking the Path. That's not different." Geralt whispers and Jaskier kisses his lips.

"Doesn't mean I have to like it."

"Hm." I never liked it either, Geralt thinks but doesn't voice. Jaskier hears it anyway.

There is no diplomatie this time, the Aedirnian army comes and they clash. Nothing about war is pretty but witchers' stamina and strength makes that one of them is ten of theirs. It's still an ugly thing. Jaskier mainly stays at the base camp because he's a lover not a fighter. Someone needs to stay at the base camp to care for food, supply routes and the injured. That job is as important as being in the front line so Jaskier goes into it with all the determination he has.

So it's a cold shower to have one messager running to the camp and breathlessly says: "they get a drop on us when we were helping children. Geralt-" Jaskier cannot hear the words. He sees the lips move but the sound seems so far away. 

"Jaskier!" It's Aubry but it could have been anyone with how the sounds are muffled to Jaskier.

Aubry has been injured on his last patrol. His sword arm took two many arrows. The special force had played dirty and Aubry had preferred injuries over losing a brother. He would heal, but witcher or not, he needs rest. As does his fellow Wolf.

"Geralt." Jaskier whispers brokenly. His white wolf, captured… again. No!

Jaskier takes a horse and rushes to the battlefield. He's not losing Geralt to the whim of men. This time, he doesn't care about using magic and he won't let them use Geralt as leverage to make him behave. They won't have the time to put dimeritium on his wrist.

"Bard!" Yennefer yells. She doesn't reprimand him for being here. She looks into his eyes and whatever she reads there, she nods. She sends a wave of violet chaos around her and pushes, and pushes, the waves of chaos makes the Aedirnians stagger and Jaskier dismounts and comes to stand at his sorecress back and closes his eyes.

Reaching for his chaos has become easy, letting it be free has become part of his routine so it's now natural to use. The ground shakes, witchers' medallions vibrate with a renewed intensity. The grasses grow fast and big, intertwining and becoming like vines impossible to cut. He grabs the Aedirnians infantry and ropes them with nature. The sky is an eerie blue and Yennefer makes sure Jaskier is safe from attacks. 

"Where is Geralt! The White Wolf" Jaskier demands, voice cold and harsh like the witchers never witnessed. It's a voice Geralt knows well with how many times Jaskier used it when he has been insulted. But Geralt is not here to roll his eyes. No, Geralt is missing.

Once Jaskier has joined the fray, between their magic and their witchers, they finally subdue the army, take their base camp and thus find Rayla.

Yennefer sneers: "Either you tell me where you took the prisoners or I'll will take it by force and I won't be careful how I take it."

Rayla spits. 

"So be it." Yennefer grins like death. Rayla screams as soon as Yennefer touches her head with her hands. 

"He has been sent to the capital to be used as leverage for a treaty." Rayla says, head bows, defeated. Jaskier touches the side of her face and Rayla screams again. One side of her face is now completely disfigured.

"You made fun of the Warlord of the North. Let those scars be a reminder to respect your betters." Jaskier greets, tall and proud. Jaskier always manages to make his stature appear small and non-frighten when in reality he's nearly the same height as Geralt. Rayla is looking disgusted and scared at the creature before her. The man, the one she called a bitch is a weird being with antlers and he called nature as an ally. 

"I thought witchers killed monsters." She growls.

"We do." Cyser says. "But actions make a monster, not birth." 

"Alright. We take back our men and then Dol Blathanna should be a good place to take as ours in exchange for the King to keep the rest of his lands. Once our Warlord has finished taking Povir, we'll negotiate with your King. I hope, for you, he values your lives." Yennefer says.

She opens a portal and Jaskier goes through. Jaskier lets nature do as he wishes and dispatch the small escort and tores the dimeritium cuff from Geralt. 

"You make for a pretty damsel in distress." Jaskier chuckles.

"He's no damsel." Cyser laughs from behind, stealing what he finds on the poor unlucky guards. They are not showing mercy today. It's war and its ugly. Their King needs to have fear making him respect the borders.

"Not in distress." Geralt grumbles.

"No one denies the pretty part." Yennefer chuckles.

It takes no time at all to secure the wagon and rescue the other prisoners. Jaskier hugs Geralt as soon as he's satisfied Geralt isn't wounded.

"Geralt."

"I knew you'd come." 

"Of course." Jaskier weeps quietly.

"My lark."

"Idiot."

"Hm. I'm sorry."

"You wouldn't be you if you didn't put others before yourself."

"Alright lovebirds. Let's plan how to take Aedirn just in case."

*

In the end, they don't take Aedirn but they do get Dol Blathanna. Those wishing to stay in Aedirn are ordered to leave post haste and those wishing to stay are welcomed into the Wolf lands. Witchers make them read a text pretending magic will know if they lie and be burnt for the deceit when it's only their noses working to smell out lies. The threat is enough to prevent spies.

Eskel comes back from Kovir two weeks later. Taking the North was a little more time consuming.

Winter is on them already. Vesemir has taken care of Kaer Morhen. Jan has now his own army of workers inside the Keep and Eskel finally has the time to check on the trainees for the first time. It's both weird and pleasant to have children in the training yards again. Weird because it has been so long and pleasant because he knows they won't lose them. He hopes Triss's testing potion works. God, does he hope. 

The trail has been repaired because the back and forth has been done too many times before practicality won other security. Kaer Morhen is so far up Kaedwen that with the patrols, witchers would have time to see an attack.

When Winter strikes, forty children are tested, many puke and have a high fever for one or two days like a case of very bad flu, others don't react at all. The children from the first category are either taken as apprentices inside the Keep or in Drakenburg where Eskel orders them to be treated well. He will not tolerate abuse.

Seven lads and one lass are taken for more training. When the first snow falls, they are Grassed. It's a very stressful moment for every soul in the old Keep. After three days of uncertainty and screams - not heard outside Triss's infirmary thankfully - the eight children all survive: the first eight witchers made in decades.

*

In one year and half, without a moment of respite, Eskel becomes the Warlord of the North, the Witchers King, ruler of Kaedwen, Caingorn, Holopole, Gelibol, Kovir, and the top half of Aedirn. His nickname brings fear to his enemies: Dragon Wolf, rumored to be surrounded by an army of inhumans warriors and mages with his two closest brothers, the Salamander, impervious to fire, the calm foundation and the Dragonnet, all explosion and danger.

*

Dragon, Salamander and Dragonnet by Jaskier

 

Oh, a mighty Dragon came to thee lands,

Cat-slitted amber eyes glowing 

Like a fire in the morning.

Tall and broad as a mountain, powerful like thunder, 

Wise and terrible are his deeds.

Pray for him and monsters weaken.

Your children are his to guard…

 

So behold the Dragon

And watch his Dragonnet.

Now that their fire is here

We put monsters to the pyres.

Look at his Salamander

And behold the Dragon.

 

Oh, a great Dragonnet came to his hands,

Red curls and orange eyes glaring

Like a bright new built fire in the evening.

His words are sharper than swords, but the silver,

Oh, the silver slays monsters.

Pray for him and your fears shall faint.

Your souls are his to guard…

 

So behold the Dragon

And watch his Dragonnet.

Now that their fire is here

We put monsters to the pyres.

Look at his Salamander

And behold the Dragon.

 

Oh, a powerful Salamander joined their ranks,

Red hair and golden eyes glowering

Like a strong fire never ending.

His calmness, a source of his power

To fight monsters and disasters.

Pray for him and horrors will be slain.

Your homes are his to guard…

 

So behold the Dragon

And watch his Dragonnet.

Now that their fire is here

We put monsters to the pyres.

Look at his Salamander

And behold the Dragon.

 

Behold the Dragon, his Salamander and Dragonnet,

Impervious to fire they resist corruption.

They protect the defenseless fiercer than one would his hoard

So if you break your oath and come to be a monster,

Beware of the Dragon Wolf.

 

Notes:

Thank you all for being here and commenting, sub or bookmarking! It feeds the bunny.
See you next chapter.

Chapter 12: Tributes, Oh mighty Dragon Wolf

Notes:

I don’t understand why there is so much smut in this chapter when it is supposed to be plot but… Enjoy the read.

Two years after Ard Carraigh, and seven months after peace has been established and continuous in the lands conquered or those that chose the Warlord as their King, a wagon goes up the trail to Kaer Morhen. Bianca had sent word ahead that envoys from Kaedwen were coming to Kaer Morhen to give their respect to the Warlord of the North. None of the witchers had thought anything of it, they should have. 

All the witchers, human warriors, trainees and the mages are present in the hall to watch the envoys arrive, Jaskier smiles internally, witchers are such curious puppies. For all their scowls and demeanor to be intimidating, they are quite frankly adorable. Not that Jaskier would say that to their face, some witchers, like Serrit, wouldn't take it as a compliment. 

It’s the end of the day, dinner will be served soon and Jan has postponed the serving to wait for the envoys and their carts to arrive and is looking from the shadows for his cue if a need arises and for when food needs to be brought in.

Andrzej takes the horses and Aubry leads the envoys inside, they have to walk the long table to arrive near Eskel. It’s a good show of power and also an intimidation tactic, an old trick to make guests walk the long way to a throne under the watchful eyes of the court. Jaskier cannot smell like witchers do, but he’s pretty sure they must reek fear and exhaustion but as any worth their salt court members they don’t seem like they are scared nor ready to kneel over from exhaustion. And Jaskier knows they don’t fear witchers, they just fear the unknown because this is their first time inside Kaer Morhen. 

The wolf table is complete, save for Aubry who walks to sit at his usual spot, the envoys are left standing before Eskel until Aubry takes his rightful place back. Witchers , Jaskier thinks indulgently, can be as dramatic as bards. Eskel has been put in a bigger chair than his brethren to make his position unmistakable. As if the middle position wasn’t obvious enough. The big throne chair had been meant as a joke, and it stuck. That the snarling Wolf carved into it is perfectly positioned where Eskel rests his head is not because witchers never half ass things. And if there are flames on the bottom it's just part of the joke and not the care they feel. Jaskier means: it's not like the chair is also super comfortable. It's simply a joke. Witchers and their emotions… Jaskier thinks fondly.

"Tributes for the great and mighty Dragon Wolf, Witchers King and ruler the Wolflands, consisting of Kaedwen, Caingorn-"

"Please." Eskel groans very quietly so the man continues on and on. "That title is way too long…" Eskel whispers to his left at Jaskier who giggles by his side. Jaskier puts both hands on his arm, and leans in: “Sorry, not sorry." He sings-songs.

The leading party bows very deeply again, straightens and looks at the Warlord and the creature, the fae, the same one that was by his side in Ard Carraigh touching the Warlord without an ounce of hesitation. It makes his place unmistakable as well for all the envoys who look at the fae with both admiration and fear, and the look is much more fearful each time it settles on Eskel again. 

"King Syzmon sends his regards and his best to his liege. May he protect the lands." The messenger finishes.

"Tributes." Eskel whispers absentmindedly. “Hm.“

Gweld wants to bang his face on the table, hard. It appears he has to take the lead so he says the safest thing he thinks of first: “Welcome to Kaer Morhen.” 

“Salamander Wolf.” They all bow their heads in respect.

And then they both exchange pleasantries and from the way all the Kaedwinans relax, he does perfectly. All the witchers seem to breathe as a whole now that the unpleasant scent is rescinding.

“Food.” Eskel orders and Jan, their good Jan is here to help the envoys to their seats and dinner begins.

*

Dinner is still a tight affair and Eskel leaves at the first opportunity to their chamber, it has been expanded and they now have a much bigger bed, worthy of a King and big enough for three grown men and still having some room. Jaskier adores that bed, because he shares it with his two wolves and now is not the time to think about sex. Eskel is distressed if his pacing is any indication.

“Eskel, it’s just tributes." Jaskier says reassuringly. "Vassal Kings and sometimes fellow Kings send presents, tributes to show their desire for peace to Kings they know can conquer them. It’s the former in our case, King Syzmon just wants to show his appreciation with how we defend the South border.” Jaskier says, resting against Geralt in their shared room, on their bed while Eskel walks back and forth.

“I’m- fuck.” Eskel sighs, putting a hand on his face and passing it through his hair. 

“What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong? I never intended to be a Warlord in the first place and then we conquered territory because I couldn’t leave things alone, and now this!” Eskel nearly shouts. “Kaedwen sent tributes.” He quotes from the envoys.

“How can we help?” Jaskier asks, he has never seen Eskel like this before and it makes him hesitant.

“Could- Can you take care of the envoys as my Consort?” Eskel pleads.

“Of course, my darling Wolf.” Jaskier answers, as if that was a question that needed to be asked.

“Thank you. I’ll be back.” Eskel nods to Geralt who nods back and tightens his grip on their songbird as Eskel flees the room.

“What?” Jaskier asks, startled.

“Let him go.” Geralt whispers. “He needs time again.”

“But-”

“Lark.”

“But-”

“Let him be. He is ours, he will always come back.”

Jaskier burrows his face into Geralt’s shoulder and grips at his white wolf shirt. “Geralt.”

“My Lark, you did nothing wrong. He is not abandoning us. He needs to think and sort his mind. Nothing you could have done to prevent it.”

“You promise?”

“I promise. Eskel loves you just as much as I do.”

“Love me then.” Jaskier murmurs and Geralt kisses his forehead, cheek then lips, slowly he worships him until his bard falls asleep in his arms.

*

The next morning, in the main hall, Eskel’s chair is empty. It unsettles the envoys who are not sure how to react or take it. They whisper among themselves, not knowing whitchers can hear them. They are mostly worried about the Warlord’s reaction, perhaps their tributes were found lacking and they should have done more.

“Is the Warlord alright?” The leader of the party asks. A brave man.

“Of course. He was very pleased, but he had to go up mountain.” Jaskier explains as he puts butter on his bread like everything is normal and he doesn’t want to scream.

“Go up mountain?” one envoy asks, curious at the wording.

“Yes.” Jaskier smiles with tight lips and the envoys understand that they shouldn’t pry. It must be a witchers’ matter and thus not their business.

*

Eskel comes back five days later.

“Don't be mad.” Jaskier begs, both hands grabbing Eskel’s clothes as soon as they can reach him.

“What the fuck happened?” Eskel asks his lover, in a worried tone because Jaskier smells distraught. Mad? Why would Eskel be mad at his darling fae?

“I didn’t think they would believe going up mountain to be like a pilgrimage but the witcher version…” Jaskier says plaintively. “I was at a loss about what to say and they took it seriously. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, Catmint.” Eskel says and cups Jaskier’s face. “Look at me. I am not mad at you. You did perfectly.”

“I-”

Eskel kisses him, just a press to his lips and rubs his nose against his then repeats: “Perfect Catmint.”

“Eskel.” Jaskier whispers, torn between lust and anxiety.

“Where is my idiot of a brother, let’s find him.” Eskel asks. “Usually you’re bound to the hip.”

“Our wife has been out, doing whatever.” Jaskier answers with a pout. “And don’t call him brother, that’s weird.”

“He left as well?”

“Just since yesterday. He said he had something to do and would be back today.” Jaskier says and requests a kiss from Eskel who indulges without it being a hardship.

“Catmint.” Eskel whispers lovingly.

“My Wolf.”

*

Geralt comes back the same day, takes a bath before he comes to their room where Eskel and Jaskier are lying naked in bed and Geralt stops in the threshold to enjoy the view.

“Come join us.” Eskel whispers and Jaskier shifts a little, just enough for Geralt to see the semen shining on Jaskier’s tights. It makes his trousers uncomfortable so he puts his package down and disrobe quickly.

“What’s that?” Eskel asks curiously.

“I wanted to give you both something. But it can wait.”

“No…” Jaskier moans. “ I want it now.”

“Lark.” Geralt murmurs.

“Hello to me.” Jaskier mumbles happily and watches Geralt.

“Lark.” Geralt and Eskel growl.

“Show us.” Jaskier demands, the impatient little thing that he is.

“For my precious bard, trusted companion and lover.” Geralt says very solemnly and gives a big piece of tissue to Jaskier who gaps at the softness. It’s a cape, the inside silk is as blue as his eyes while the exterior is a sturdy brown leather with white fur on the hood andat the collar, wolf fur if Jaskier isn’t mistaken. The cape has very beautiful silver thread embroideries everywhere and more at the bottom like he’s walking on clouds.

“Geralt.” Jaskier tears up, touched beyond words. “I love you.” He whispers.

“And I, you.” Geralt whispers just as sweetly. “And for you, Eskel, brother-.

“Don’t call each other brothers, that’s so weird.” Jaskier says, wiping his happy tears.

“Fellow witcher, best friend and lover.” Geralt amends and gives to Eskel a cape as well. But this one is made of red scales outside, his favorite red at that, with black leather at the colar and hood and at some place like the bottom. It’s practical and makes him look like:

“A dragon.” Jaskier whispers his thought out loud.

“Better look the part.” Geralt teases.

“I love this, I love you Geralt. Have for so long.” Eskel says. “Come here. I need to fuck you.”

“Yes.” Jaskier agrees. “While he fucks me.”

Geralt growls and crawls to them.

If their capes smell a little too much of all of them for such new pieces of clothes… Well…

*

It doesn’t take long after the envoys leave for shrines to be made  in witchers’ deities' honor. When the news reaches Kaer Morhen, witchers go up mountain in numbers, thus Wolflanders must do something right and are very happy. In Drakenburg, there are seven statues, one for each school animal, the wolf being the one at the center of the village. And if little wood animals are made so people can have at least one spirit to guard their home, that’s exactly the story.

"Shrines?" Eskel sighs again the very same evening.

"Hm. Let me worship you as well, love." Jaskier whispers and straddles Eskel on the bed. 

"Fuck." He groans when Jaskier moves on top of him. Geralt chuckles from somewhere in the room.

"My mighty Dragon Wolf. How I adore you. And our people trust us and they pray for your schools' animals. It's cute. Let them." Jaskier praises and Eskel blushes under both the tender words and the look. 

"Catmint."

"Eskel." Jaskier moans before they kiss filthy and wet and Jaskier gaps when Geralt hugs him from behind them and moves to one side, back to the headboard.

"Good thing we have a bigger room and a bigger bed." Jaskier stutters as Geralt sits to watch them, he’s naked the impatient bastard.

"Hm." 

Jaskier helps Eskel get rid of his pants which forces him to move and Geralt tores his shirt and made him lean his back onto his chest. Eskel is stuck in the middle.

"My wolves." Jaskier says sweetly, temptation itself as he disrobe and crawl on the bed until he just reaches Eskel's prick and doesn't wait for an invitation.

"Fuck." Eskel growls. "Catmint…" He rasps.

"Feel good, hm?" Geralt whispers in his ear as he nips his shoulder and Eskel whines. Having both of them, each time, it's- it's, a dream come true.

"No one is better than you and your weird oral fixation." Jaskier says as he kittens-licks around then takes Eskel’s prick again.

"Fuck.” Eskel chokes, a little distracted to think coherently. That’s good already and clearly it’s not a competition. Eskel likes both their mouths for different reasons.

“But Jaskier has better hands.” Geralt whispers.

“Hm hm.” Eskel moans in agreement. He can feel Jaskier’s calluses against his skin and the way he caresses his tights is…“Fuck.” 

Geralt chuckles.

“May your consort claim you tonight?” Jaskier asks because as fun as Eskel is at topping, Jaskier wants to feel Eskel this way if he allows it, if he likes it that way. They never tried. Why did he never ask? That sounds so stupid, a big remiss on his part.

“Yeah.” Eskel answers breathlessly, nearly overwhelmed by the attention both his lovers are giving him, and spread his legs, leans more heavily on Geralt who grabs his tights to expose him and fuck…

“Pretty.” Jaskier whispers.

“Not-”

“Pretty, beautiful, handsome. Mine” the fae says, anger at his self-doubt making his antlers grow just a bit and his stag’s ears twitch while flowers fall on them. His oiled fingers tease Eskel’s entrance and he tenses, breathes, relaxes.

“Should I stop?” Jaskier asks, suddenly very seriously.

“No.” Eskel says. “Don’t stop. Just still not used to this. Been so long- before”

“How long?.”

“Couldn't trust anyone to take me. Decades.”

“Won’t happen again. We're going to lavish you with so much praise and love, you will never feel unwanted.” Jaskier growls. And it’s such a cute sound, Eskel nearly melts.

“Neither will you lark.” Geralt growls, very wolf-like in answer, knowing their lark can be prone to self-doubt sometimes.

“I love you.” Eskel moans. “ Both of you. Melitele knows why.”

Jaskier twists his fingers just right and Eskel buckles but he has no purchase and Geralt just holds him harder, in a bruising grip that makes Eskel’s head spin. It has been so long since someone took him that way and Eskel has missed it. He missed the way he could just lay back and enjoy without a thought about the how and when. Just enjoy the heat and the touches, the smells of honey and flowers, of leather and warm bread. The latter, a new addition that is the best smell: love.

Eskel can feel how Jaskier’s cock takes him slowly and how rags his breathing already is from the strain not to go too fast. Fuck, Eskel wants him to go fast but he’s going slow. Eskel can feel every inch and the way Geralt’s heart is beating behind him as he watches them. He doesn’t know when he has closed his eyes but he hears them kissing and opens them again. Jaskier is a vision above him, chest hair just curly enough Eskel wants to bite the smooth skin they cover. His hands caresses Jaskier’s neck and their lark looks at him and kisses him hungrily and Geralt just shifts and it makes them both groan. Eskel tries to move and thankfully, it spurs Jaskier on. He moves out, leaving just the tip and then slams back, Eskel’s head shot behind, his mouth opens in a gap.

“Do that again.” Geralt requests, making sure Eskel can’t move. His arms are back by his side, he can’t find it in himself to move them up to grab at Jaskier who obeys. Nearly out then perfectly aimed inside. Eskel groans again, the sound seems punched out of his lungs.

“Stop thinking Esk. Just close your eyes and enjoy.”

It’s a blur after that, just touches, kisses, and Jaskier grinding that perfect spot that makes him see stars. 

*

They are bathing in the hot springs late at night, it’s nearly empty. Some couples are also bathing to be clean the next morning and don’t offend certain sensibilities. They are both soaking in a warm one while some witchers are in the very hot ones. The lights are even fewer than during daylights and Eskel is pretty sure some Cats are not just washing… But since Jaskier has helped both Geralt and he wash, he’s too relaxed to care.

“What’s on your mind?” Eskel asks Geralt when he can feel his fidgeting.

“Hm…”

“Don’t say nothing, love.” Jaskier chides gently, soaking in front of them, just so he can watch them.

“My- You know… The- Banket in-”

“Oh!” Jaskier shouts out and makes the few witchers present jumps. Jaskier laughs and makes the water scent even more flowery and some petals appear where his hands are. 

“It’s not funny” Geralt grumbles, watching his fae play the innocent act when he’s anything but. It shouldn’t be as distracting as it is knowing it’s an act but it is! And thanks fuck, now Geralt can only smell them three and the strong smell of Jaskier’s favorite flowers in their bath.

“It is!” Jaskier disagrees and flicks some water in there direction.

“Catmint.” Eskel groans when some splashes on his eyes. 

“Sorry Eskel.” Jaskier says softly, not truly feeling sorry. “But his Child Surprise!” 

“His- what now?” Eskel asks, looking at Jaskier then Geralt who just says a very long and low: “Fuck.” 

“So-” Eskel starts hesitantly. “A child, that’s not so bad now that we agreed to have trainees as clan children?” 

Jaskier giggles some more and swims to them, both witchers grab his hands and let him settle in front of them, charming as he usually is, tempting them to claim him again, drops of water falling from his hair and running down his chest. And before they can both grow hard, Jaskier manages to articulate: “His Child Surprise is the- the Lion Cub,  Princess Cirilla of Cintra.” 

“Fuck.” Eskel agrees in the same manner as Geralt did a few seconds ago.

*

At the same time, awful rumors are spreading. Jaskier’s newest songs are being censored and used only in very private circles carefully but it’s not enough to prevent the words of the Warlord of the North whose appetite is so ferocious none but a fellow witcher and a creature survive his bed. And that of his two brothers, demons with hair as red as all the blood they split. 

 

Chapter 13: Child Surprise

It takes three months to make Calanthe agree to a meeting with the Warlord of the North and thus Geralt and Jaskier. With Nilfgaard moving to war against the North, Moussack and Eist, Calanthe has admitted that she might need the Wolflands to defend Cintra and Cirilla. She already lost Pavetta, Calanthe is not losing Cirilla as well. The simple thought of never seeing Ciri again makes her heart fall.

Yennefer, Vesemir and Gweld may have played a big part in the negotiation. Geralt and Jaskier won’t be hanged as soon as they set foot inside Cintra as Calanthe has threatened years ago.

Anyway, Eskel has decided to take twenty witchers with him as just bodyguards and escorts. A very high number but Eskel doesn’t trust Calanthe yet. And she’s known to be against non-humans so he is not taking any risk with Jaskier and Geralt. Should he even bring them along?

“What do you mean you’d prefer if I stay here?! I’m your Consort! I have to come.” Jaskier shouts.

“Catmint.“ Eskel sighs.

“You can’t leave me behind!” Jaskier begs, clutching at Eskel’s shirt, trembling slightly and looking at him from below his eyelashes and not because he’s trying to flirt but because he’s distressed with tears in the corner of his eyes. “I won’t do anything that might jeopardize this-”

“Catmint. Jaskier.” Eskel whispers in alarm, wrapping his arm around his bard waist and tightening until Jaskier sags onto him, knowing Eskel will carry his weight. "Beloved." Eskel murmurs sweetly, the new nickname just rolling off his tongue naturally.

“Eskel.” Jaskier pleads and that’s not a sound he hopes to ever hear again in such a context. It's full of tears and it breaks his heart to be the cause of such distress.

“Lark. Eskel knows this.” Geralt hugs Jaskier from behind. “Calm down. You’re alright.”

“I am not-”

“Catmint.” Eskel whispers again and nuzzles him enough that Jaskier is making eye contact with him. “I love you.” He starts with, because ain’t that the truth. “I am never, ever, going to abandon you. Never. Nothing can make me abandon you.” He growls out. “You are mine, Catmint. My pack, my hoard, my precious little fae. And you will live and die as mine, do you understand?”

“Eskel.” Jaskier gasps, surprised and- Eskel breathes the sweet scent of warm bread and honey coming stronger and stronger replacing the acrid and sour smell of fear.

“Ours, Lark.” Geralt rumbles. “Never escaping us.”

“Yours. And you’re mine.” Jaskier growls as well. And if that is not cute as hell.

“Ours.” Eskel rumbles and he never wants to see this fear in his Catimint’s eyes nor be the cause of it so Eskel knows he will whisper that reassurance as long as it’s needed, centuries from now, he will continue to do so, as long as Jaskier needs.

“Ours.” Jaskier whispers. 

*

It’s summer time, and the weather is good with the sun shining. Eskel arrives at the palace with all the pompousness his new rank required to be taken seriously. He's wearing Geralt's court gift because it makes him look like his namesake with the sun reflecting on the red cloak’s scales.

Geralt smells pleased and Jaskier is happy. He's also wearing his brown with the white fur on his back to prevent the sun from burning his delicate skin as Jaskier loves to say. Eskel leads the proceeding even if some of the witchers are scooting ahead.

So he arrives first in Cintra and holds his head high from the huge gates, when he dismounts and enters the hall in Cintra’s palace clad in practical but clearly expensive clothes tailored to fit him perfectly. Aniela used the materials sent by King Syzmon. His envoys brought quite the collection to have fun with. All the clothes are done with those expansive threads. His Right and Left-Hands, Samalander Gweld and Dragonnet Lambert are both at his side flanking him, the added touches of red on their clothes making their red-hair stand out, they make it look like the Warlord is surrounded by flames. Barely a step behind are his court mage Yennefer now of Kaer Morhen. Then following them at a more leasuring pace are his Consort, Jaskier with their concubine and precious Geralt wearing more delicate clothes under his dark cloak with golden threads. And then twenty witchers are here as part of Eskel’s entourage, two from each school and a lot of Wolves. They walk to reach Calanthe, looking at them with her cold expression and it hardens when she sees the White Wolf and his bard.

“I let you here only because Nilfgaard is coming.” She spats, and would have stood up if Eist hadn't put his hand on her arm.

“I am well aware of this.” Eskel answers nonplussed by the tone. “We are both warriors, let’s spare ourselves the political bullshit. 

“Agreed.” Calanthe smirks. “I told you witcher that you should never walk in Cintra again.”

“And yet, here we are.” Geralt says.

“And you bard. If I had known what creature you were-” She threatens when she sees the antlers, ears and flowers on his head, how his eyes are glowing from the distance like those of the witchers.

“You’re speaking to my Consort.” Eskel cuts, growling and every Witcher snarls in answer to their leader’s mood. Eskel will give Calanthe that, she doesn’t show her fear but he can smell it. She is afraid. Good. Let her know not to play trifled games with him, nor threaten his darlings.  

“Huh. Is that so? And what about the White Wolf?”

“He is mine as well.” Eskel taunts, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“Come sit, Warlord, and regale me with how that came to be.” Calanthe relents, knowing this is a fight she would lose. She is not suicidal. She knows she needs them and that was hard to swallow.

Eskel smirks and comes forward until he is sitting next to the Queen and Eist beckons Jaskier to his own left. Geralt had no seat planned but Eskel just gives a look and Geralt nods shyly and sits at Jaskier’s feet where Yennefer summons a pillow so he can be more comfortable. Jaskier sits a little farther from the table but he doesn't particularly mind and he enjoys the display making Cintrans uncomfortable. It suits the witchers just fine. Then Yennefer finds who she knows to hold power as counselor. Gweld comes to stand behind Eskel, Idwin and Galen come to stand behind Jaskier. The other witchers scatter around and find a table to sit at.

Jaskier is speaking with Eist like two old friends while Eskel is left to entertain Calanthe and try not to offend the woman. It seems speaking to her as he does a warrior works just fine and he relaxes.

“Grand-ma, why am I-” a young girl comes running into the throne room wearing a simple dress and braided hair, so blond it’s nearly white, eyes so green it’s uncanny.

“Dandy!” She yells without decorum.

“Hello Princess.” Jaskier smiles and Cirilla runs to him, splendidly ignoring the man at her favorite bard’s feet. “Are you going to sing to me again? You weren't there for my last two birthdays. C’mon, I have to show you the-

“Cirilla.” Calanthe scolds and stares at her grand-daugther.

“Greetings esteemed guests. I am Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon, the Lion Cub of Cintra. Pleasure.” She offers them a perfect courtesy. “Are they witchers?” She whispers to Jaskier but the room is so silent, she could have screamed it.

“They are.”

“Do you have songs about witchers?”

“Do I?” Jaskier fakes thinking and says: “If your grand-mother allows it.”

“Please.” She begs, looking like the picture of innocence while giving puppy eyed dogs to her grandmother.

Calanthe sighs. “Alright. Might as well get a witcher song from the famous Jaskier.”

“You're Jaskier?” Ciri gasps, eyes wide and expression one of pure delight and surprise. 

“That I am, my lady.”

“I got my first and favorite lullaby from the famous Jaskier.” She giggles. “Will you sing it to me tonight?”

“It would be my pleasure, Princess. How about you tell me what you’ve been up to for the last two years.”

And the girl launches into a very detailed tale of her adventures.

*

Before the ball begins, Eskel and his people have been shown to their rooms to rest, Ciri has gone to change her clothes into one fit for a Princess. When they all come back to the ballrooms, guests have arrived in numbers, Ciri loses no time to find friends to dance with. Eskel comes back to Calanthe's side and watches as the newcomers all come bowing to Calanthe before mingling. The lead bard is not too bad but not that good either. It's ok, his troupe of musicians make it tolerable. Jaskier has rolled his eyes more time than Eskel can count and Geralt seems to want to make the singer fuck off. It has not gone unnoticed by the Witchers but it seems Geralt gets first dibs so for now, nothing will happen. Pity, Eskel would have taken a diversion.

"And it's time for the Melange!" 

Calanthe and Eskel stare at each other briefly and sigh.

"Protocol…" Calanthe says exasperated but stands up and requests Eist to go to the dancefloor. Eskel does the same with Jaskier. They open the dance floor beautifully with a dozen others. Their warrior grace makes it very intense, then Eskel and Calanthe dance like they fight, purposeful and graceful. Geralt has started with Yennefer and they change partners every few rounds to greet each other. 

Eskel twirls Jaskier and then Geralt, wants to laugh when he ends up with Gweld and dies when it's an old woman trying to make him take her daughter as part of his harem… Fuck, all that for power? He doesn’t want a harem, just two people: Geralt and Jaskier but he makes her turn and switches partners too fast to argue more. 

They bow and are done with the dance.

"Jaskier hasn't introduced me, Warlord of the North, I am-."

"Fuck off." Geralt snarls, stepping between the man and his lark. "Who are you to address our Jaskier by his name?"

"I-" The musician begins again and Eskel wraps his arm around Jaskier's shoulder to flush him against him and he taps his fingers like he's thinking. The singer takes a pitiful look there and gulps. 

"My Consort is to be addressed by his title. I'm pretty sure I know every friend he has." Eskel growls and Jaskier turns toward him and is giving him an adoring look. Little fae is smelling bitter and Geralt radiates anger but it has been smooth over by Eskel's response.

"Consort Jaskier." The singer says.

"There is no need to speak to our Warlord's Consort." Geralt cuts any further words again.

"Play your-" Eskel waves his hand and fake looks for a word and finally bites out: " music and leave us be. I'd rather not know what you did to make my Wolf need to defend my Consort." Eskel says calm as usual which makes the next words absolutely terrifying. "I might find myself obliged to punish your deed to please my lovers." He grins as the other bard with his weird mustache pales and he looks at Jaskier again then bows deeply to the Warlord and goes back to play with his troup.

Eskel forces Jaskier, who's shaking with laughter, to move back to their seats. 

"My dear witchers. That was magnificent."

"Hm. I promised, didn't I?" Geralt whispers like it was a hardship to play knight to Jaskier against who is probably a rival bard or the likes, Eskel thinks. 

"Will you tell me what he did?"

"Would you really punish him for me?" Jaskier asks sweetly.

"Hm. Depends." Eskel trails off.

"I'd make it worth your while." Jaskier murmurs lustfully.

"I'm sure. But I'd never trade sexual favors with you. I care too much about you to cheapen you this way." Eskel says to his ears when he helps Jaskier sit. The bard's blood rushes to his cheeks so hard so fast, he feels dizzy with it.

"Dearest." 

"Beloved." Eskel grins, proud of himself when Jaskier only smells pleased.

He nods at Idwin, Galen and Gweld to go eat so Aurby comes behind Jaskier and Auckes comes behind him with a grin. Stupid Viper. Cintrans' guards are, well, on their guard now… Not that Eskel has anything planned but their smell of distress is getting stronger and it's bothersome. Auckes sniffs loudly and coughs which nearly makes one guard piss himself. Eskel laughs. 

"Witchers." Jaskier giggles and takes the lead of the conversation and Eskel smiles in gratitude even if he knows he looks like he's snarling… It doesn't seem to bother Jaskier. His scars never seem to bother the pretty fae. 

"None of that." Geralt whistles in witcher's low hearing range. 

Eskel glares in Geralt's direction and some maidens look like they want to faint. And some men too. Huh…

Ciri is dancing and laughing with girls her age and Calanthe seems to relax at her joy. Geralt finishes his meal and comes back to the high table, this time Calanthe makes him sit and beckons Ciri over again. She dutifully comes.

"Grandmother?"

"Ciri, you already know Jaskier. But did you know that when your mother was younger, they- Jaskier and his witcher came to Cintra?" 

"They did? I knew Jaskier had a witcher but nobody talked about witchers in the palace." Ciri answers.

"Is it you, Warlord?"

"No." Eskel answers.

"It's me." Geralt says.

"Oh! A white wolf. It's kind of on the nose."

"It's a magnificent nickname you meant to say?" Jaskier bristles. 

"Sure." Ciri answers like children seem to do sometimes. "And so what?"

"He saved your father's life that night."

"You did?" She asks, eyes full of questions. "From what?"

"Your grandmother." Geralt says truthfully.

"What?"

"Your father has been cursed and your grand-mother was scared on behalf of your mother but love winned in the end." Jaskier smiles.

"So?" Ciri trails of.

"Your father offered a life debt to Geralt."Calanthe sighs. "The witcher wanted nothing at first, but he finally asks, after too much probing from your father, for the Law of Surprise."

"You're my papa knight." She smiles and rushes to hug Geralt! “Right, Jaskier?"

"He is." Jaskier replies despite saying how angry Calanthe is beginning to be. All the witchers stand as one and look at the Queen’s direction, waiting for Eskel’s words. The Cintran guards tense as well. The music, the small talks and laughs stop abruptly. The atmosphere loses its jovial air.

"Go back to your room Ciri." Calanthe suddenly orders and asks guards to escort her back to her room. "Grand-ma! Why?"

"Do as I say." She scolds and turns to Jaskier as soon as Ciri is out of the room: "I told you not to talk about the witcher and what did you do?!" Calanthe rages.

"And I never talked about Geralt or the witchers. Like I promised." Jaskier cuts her off, fearless now. He is surrounded by Witchers who would lay their lives for him. It’s never going to come to that but the thought helps him stand his ground. "I am the Warlord of the North's Consort, Queen Calanthe. I take orders from no one but my husband." Jaskier says proudly and Eskel nearly chokes at Jaskier obeying his orders in a different context. Like in bed. What the fuck is he thinking about? From Geralt's expression, he knows exactly what. Something to test later, back in Kaer Morhen when they are safe and can explore some more. And if that is not a thought?

Calanthe is going to object when an explosion rattles the earth. She gasps and grips the table to stay up-right. Then a second explosion takes the room. Both Eskel and Geralt reach for Jaskier and cast Quen. Instinct to protect their lark stronger than logic to split. What if they don't understand each other in what is a half second and don't dive for Jaskier and he is hurt? Nothing is worth that risk.

Eist and Calanthe have been pushed and protected by Aubry but Calanthe seems to have fallen weirdly. She is clutching one of her legs. Eist is whispering to her.

"Ciri." Calanthe breathes out, scared. "The first explosion was from her wing." Eskel's eyes widen and he's barking orders for his witchers to track her.

"We will find her."

"You're not-"

"No!" Jaskier answers. "We came as we said, as allies. We would not lie. Even if Ciri was taken to Kaer Morhen, she is your granddaughter and Cintra's Princess. She would have had both."

"Geralt." Calanthe whispers. "She is your Destiny. Find her." 

"I will. She will be safe."

"Don't let Emhyr get her." 

"That emperor. What does he want with her?" Eskel asks.

"Duny." Calanthe says. "Is Emhyr. He lied to us."

Geralt growls. Jaskier gaps. Eskel stays silent and a solid presence by their side. 

"We will protect her." Geralt swears.

"Go. I can't fight right now." She says as Yennefer comes by her side and convinces the Queen to be healed.

*

While on the move to locate Ciri’s whereabouts, they meet with a man, blond and half face burnt nastily, the man is clearly tasked to delay them. 

“Geralt of Rivia.” He says. “I cannot let you claim the child.

The thing is, Geralt is not alone anymore.

“She is mine by Law of Surprise. No man or woman can prevent me from being her Destiny.” Geralt growls because he hates this bullshit but he’s here to help the girl. Nilfgaard is moving, fast it seems with that mage being here and all but Wolflanders are here as well to protect Cirilla.

"Oh, it’s you.” Yennefer greets absentmindedly. ”I thought I told you to never show your face again for touching Jaskier." Yennefer continues in an almost bored tone, as if she doesn't know what she is unleashing with that comment.

"That's Rience." Geralt says as if he needs to voice it out and confirm this is the bastard that hurt Jaskier so he can go all out on him.

Behind him witchers growls as pack and beside him. Oh, besides him Eskel is seething. “Go ahead, we have it.” Eskel whistles so faintly the words can be mistaken as him grinding his teeth. 

"Yeah.” Jaskier breathes out, oblivious to the witchers going away to look for Ciri… 

“I’m going to finish what I started with you.” Rience threatens, weirdly focused on the fae. "I did promise to burn your fingers after I was done breaking them. Pity your bitch arrived." Jaskier shudders and Rience's grin widens “Once i’m done with your pet witchers, I’ll do more than-”

"Is that so?" Eskel cuts, staring at the mage in front of him, casting a Yrden without thought and both Geralt and he move at the same time. Rience doesn't stand a chance. And he can't flee. Geralt pierce one hand with his sword, severing two fingers and just “hm” like his aim wasn’t perfect. Rience screams and whimpers in pain. It shouldn’t be satisfying but Jaskier must have been so hurt and alone with Geralt being on a hunt, days away… Geralt is glad they are never separating again.

Both witchers are clearly playing with the mage, cutting him here and there, aarding him around like children plays with a ball and then they make sure he stays, stomach on the ground, both sword at his throat and their feet on his back to keep him there, like Eskel Yrden isn’t sufficient. It might have to do with the pleasure of crushing that piece of shit with their weight.

Jaskier comes to kneel beside him: “You think this was bad, just wait until we get to the fun part” Jaskier quotes what Rience took pleasure to say to him, using fire as a threat against him. Jaskier can finally look at  Rience. He’s pathetic, whimpering and spitting threats like he doesn’t feel anything besides anger. He's just a man, rotten from the use of the chaotic magic without an anchor. Jaskier isn’t scared anymore, after all, he has the best protectors on the Continent. He can look his nightmare in the eye and heal. 

Geralt cuts the firefucker's head in one swift go and by then a sharp whistle makes Eskel' tenses.

"She's not there anymore?" Jaskier asks, knowing the answer already.

They move back to the throne room where Calanthe is resting on a chair now.

"Those assholes from Nilfgaard." She curses. 

"I'll find her." Geralt says.

"Sodden is going to fall soon…" Moussack adds.

"I'll help with Sodden. Geralt, find Cirilla." Eskel orders.

Geralt nods, touches Eskel's forehead and they both grip each other's shoulder for a second then gives Jaskier a filthy kiss and leaves without looking back.

"I am going to Sodden with you." Jaskier says.

Eskel agrees. He knows Jaskier will do something unwise otherwise. "I'd prefer you stay by my side." 

"Sodden." Yennefer hums.

"Some of my men will stay in case an attack happens here." Eskel says to Calanthe who is already barking orders to her captains. She nods in thanks and Yennefer opens a portal. The three of them cross it and it closes.

"Yennefer." An older woman says.

"Tissaia."

"That's your mum-mage?" Jaskier murmurs in awe.

"Warlord of the North." She greets. "And Consort?"

"Rectoress." Jaskier nods in respect.

"Here to help?"

"We are."

"Just you three?"

"More than enough." Eskel says and they have matching grins on their faces. Nilfgaard is not ready for their chaos.

Chapter 14: Sudden Sodden

Notes:

If everything stays inside the plot, story will be 19 chapters in total.
Not beated. I hope it's still enjoyable!

It's night time, Cirilla doesn't know if her guards survived the explosion that took them by surprise. She’s frightened and desperate. She is being taken away from Cintra on horseback like a sack of potatoes by a knight in black, a helmet so thick with a red mane on the top that flows with how fast he's making the horse run. Her city, her home is getting smaller and smaller and she’s just being jostled. It doesn’t matter how much she struggles, it seems useless.  

She wants to go back to her grand-ma, to Jaskier and her Papa Knight. Jaskier has sung songs about her fierce protector. She wants him. She needs him. Her body seems locked up, she can’t move anymore so she screams. And it makes the ground shake. It's a high pitch sound. The horse bucks and they both fall, she rolls on the floor, stunned but when she sees the shadow of the black knight, a jolt of something spreads through her, waking her and she runs. She runs in a random direction to flee from him. He tries to grab her. She dodges, she doesn’t know how, but she escapes his grab. She looks at him. His whole height seems gigantic, he’s like a dark shadow advancing on her, with a helmet like he has no face, red surrounding his head. She screams again and the ground splits. She can't run back to Cintra. She can't run back home. But run, she does. Away from the knight in black, hoping, wishing, praying Jaskier’s songs are true. So that her Papa Knight will find her. That she will know what safety means again...

*

Meanwhile, some time later in Sodden.

"Nilfgaard is moving fast and has already pillaged further South. They need to be stopped before they take the whole Continent." Tissaia says.

"That's why we are here." Yennefer answers. 

"One witcher, a sorceress and a bard?" Another sorceress asks, dubious.

"The Dragon Wolf, Yennefer is not just a sorceress and neither am I just a bard." Jaskier says with his nose up. 

Eskel chuckles and Yennefer smirks. 

The mage scoffs but Tissaia glares at her and she leaves them be.

Even though they were warned and tried to get ready, they weren't. The Nilfgaardian army is more impressive than expected. The field is full of armored soldiers all ready to give their lives in the White Flame's name. Jaskier can't believe those fanatics nor Duny, Emhyr or whatever the cursed hedgehog head is thinking! Attacking Cintra to get Ciri? Did he kill Pavetta? Jaskier wants to destroy something at the mere thought of that poor child getting played. 

Jaskier calls forth his nature and his antlers grow at their fullest above his head, stag ears and hair are covered in flowers as red as blood. He makes the grass as strong as needles to prevent the march forward but Nilfgaardian mages are good as well and it's a back and forth between them. Flowers' petals have poured at his feet.

"Little flower. Don't overwhelm yourself." Yennefer says as she takes over and fires spells after spells to try to dissolve Nilfgaardians' magic and keep the soldiers from coming closer.

"I know but…" Jaskier argues but takes the breather thankfully.

"We'll need you later." Eskel shouts as he forms a Quen to shield them from an explosion sent by their enemy. He growls, Jaskier can see him wanting to draw his sword but that would be suicide. He goes away again to help another mage.

"Stupid Fringilla!" Yennefer snarls as she does her best to counter another spell. "That reeks of her!" 

"Who?" Jaskier asks.

"Stupid girl whom I was at Aretuza with. Always thinking she was brilliant!"

"I sense something here." Jaskier yells back over the capharnaüm as he fires an arrow again. He's not too bad with a bow… But it takes some time to aim and so he's practically useless. 

"How the fuck you get the energy to bicker!" Eskel screams from the other side of the wall, casting an Aard on a fireball to redirect it on the soldiers.

"Pot, kettle!" Jaskier and Yennefer shout and giggle hysterically as they wave away a rain of arrows. Some do land. People are shouting in pain but they are the first line of defense, they can't turn and check. 

Jaskier and Yennefer come closer together and Eskel does the same as soon as he can. They need to stick together because they won't make it as they are doing now. Their laughter shifts to fear and tension. Eskel can smell it growing in the air even if blood has begun to mask every other scent.

"We should have called for back-up!" Eskel says when he managed to get by his friends' side again.

"I know. But how did so many Nilfgaardians arrive here!" Yennefer spats. "They were supposed to be a little army, easily disposable, not that!

"Who the hell gave that information, needs to have his ears checked!" Jaskier growls.

"Seconded." Yennefer agrees. "I'll make them into a slug!"

"Fuck!" Eskel curses when a fireball does crash behind them and sparks a fire.

"Water!" Someone shouts. "Water!" 

"Yennefer!" Tissaia yells, knowing they can't win this. Nilfgaard has mages as well and an army so vast it's like watching waves crash at the shore… Soldiers keep coming and coming, it looks like the more fall, the more there are like they multiply. 

Tissaia is selfish enough not to do the job herself so she points to a hill near their defense position where chaos could be unleashed from. She is grateful when Yennefer and Eskel go and stand at the hill. They both know they need to do something drastic. They don't like it but it's needed. If Sodden falls, they might as well give up the North.

Eskel takes a breath, and he manages to find his friends' scents. It's hard with the blood and the steel so present in the air but he gets their unique fragrances. Yennefer stands beside him and they nod at each other. He looks at the carnage, sighs, uncaps one of his potions: Petri's Philter which increases the intensity of signs and drinks it in one go. He shudders then casts Igni with the power of a thousand suns, and then following suit Yennefer lets her chaos lose. She screams as she does and Jaskier touches both of them and closes his eyes and thinks of a meadow. His flowers turn to dandelions and jasmines. He reels back both their chaos with the love he feels for them and grips their souls into his own fae's chaos and refuses to release it. They are his. The chaotic nature of fire cannot take them. They are his !

Fire surrounds them from every side and the whole field of Sodden suddenly turns to flame, high, violent and unyielding. Tissaia gasps from where she is. She knows she is not the only one. The witcher just managed to use fire as if it was nothing. Tissaia knows it's draining from Yennefer but she can see the grin from the witcher where Yennefer seems to suffer. The sudden heat is unbearable. It gets so hot, the atmosphere seems to blur all around them. It's like the ground is being cooked and the dirt is evaporating. It's the ashes dancing in the air making it nearly suffocating. Tissaia's skin is clammy and it's so hot the sweat disappears as it makes contact with the air.

The fire burns. It burns bright in yellow, orange and red flames that consume the army. There are screams that die as fast as they appear with how strong the fire is. Their enemies don't get the time to understand they are burning with how fast they turn to ashes.  The entire field gets eaten by the red waves, the trees, the grass, the rocks, everything. The air is blurred and it's hard to see far with how charged with ashes it is. 

The mages on the other side are taken by surprise and can't react to the assault of flames. It leaves nothing behind its passage. Tissaia doesn't want to admit that it's terrifying. Those two are like a volcano in eruption. The witcher has truly earned the title Dragon Wolf. His fire seems never ending. He's as tall, impassive and proud as when he started whereas Yennefer has to concentrate. Tissaia can hear her screaming as she makes flames. Their companion, the bard, seems to be helping them. She didn't truly notice before because she dismissed him earlier as just a plaything for the witcher. But he is a creature with white antlers that are very easily seen with how dark and red everything has become… He stands out. Tissaia doesn't dare look at them longer when his eerie blue eyes pin her in her place like she is a mere child. Instead she watches the flames take everything. 

Jaskier is also watching his lover and friend using more chaos than he would like but he knows it's necessary. So he stays close to them even when it's too hot for his comfort. Yenna has thankfully stopped screaming but she seems to have some difficulties maintaining the fire chaos. Jaskier makes sure she won't get hurt with his own by counterbalancing.

Eskel turns a second to him, and Jaskier smiles in answer. He can only see his scarred face and whatever expression Eskel wants to show, it's not working very well because he looks like he's snarling but by the Gods, Jaskier wants to kiss him. He's so strong and so beautiful, amber eyes glowing in the dark and reflecting the deep orange of the chaos he's letting lose. He's as magnificent as the day he saved him, barging into the throne room. His sunlit wolf is breathtaking. He wants to- Eskel chuckles and Jaskier knows he reeks of lust. And truly, now is not the time. He turns and focuses on Yenna to make sure she is still mostly alright. Jaskier didn't mean to get distracted but Eskel is so- Focus bard! They both look exhausted, so Jaskier surveys the field and when he feels like there is no threat anymore, he uses his magic to cut their leaking chaos clean and stops them from losing themselves. They have truly outdone themselves and single handedly stopped the advance of Nilfgaard. The fire's sources die but everything continues to burn until the lingering chaos dies away. On the far side when fumes are still going up and blurring the scenery, a massive shadow with strange red-orange eyes stares at Jaskier. He blinks and it's gone. Jaskier isn't sure if he really saw anything. It doesn't matter. What matters now is to take care of his friends so Jaskier makes sure Yennefer can lean on him. He caresses her hair and pours his feelings onto her. She sags in relief. 

"You're safe, Yenna." He whispers.

Behind him, Eskel hugs him to stay upright. 

"Catmint. Beloved." Eskel murmurs and nuzzles him  so his scent washes out the burnt flesh and ashes.

"Eskel. I have you." Jaskier whispers back with so much love, Eskel sighs in relief. He has never been this close to losing himself. Thanks to all the Gods for Jaskier.

"You were both magnificent. Let me take care of you. Let's go back to camp. You both need rest. I'll guard your dreams." The fae promises.

Eskel nods, tightens his hold a second and uses his last witcher's stamina to walk, head held high and proudly marches back to their camp. The people here bow as he walks and then he enters the tent Yennefer set and just limps to his bedroll and falls asleep. Jaskier makes a small "I can't believe that's cute" gesture with his head and Yennefer goes to her own bed and promptly passes out as well. Jaskier sits in the middle and envelopes the tent with his magic. Nothing will disturb his friends' rest. It smells like the forest soon enough with a nice flowers' scent and freshwater. Fire magic always asks for a toll but Jaskier has come to understand that his chaos is nature and that's one law he will bend to his will. His friends are not giving anything to fire. They will never become like the firefucker. He will anchor them. He knows he can do that. Nature and Fate whisper it to him. He knows.

This victory makes Nilfgaard stop his progress North, especially when the next morning, Eskel, Yennefer and Jaskier get the pleasure to see the General of Nilfgaard bound by Tissaia as their prisoner.

There is a debate of what to do with him.

"He must know the White Flame's plans!" One says.

"He needs to be brought to-"

"I think we can say that Wolflanders saved your asses and thus that makes him our prisoner." Eskel bellows, arriving at an unhurried pace.

Mages and people are looking at him with caution. Yennefer and Jaskier are walking behind him and grins.

"That's not for you to decide!"

"Oh. Is it not? That's the Warlord of the North, the Dragon Wolf of Kaer Morhen, King to all witchers and he just dissolved the Nilfgaardian army with his prime sorceress while you all cowered behind." Jaskier says. "Is there a decision that is not ours to make?" He grins savagely.

"So what would you do?" Tissaia asks, looking at him, Yennefer then Eskel. 

"Hm." Eskel hums thoughtfully, having no plan for such a man.

"We'd like to send a message to your emperor. Our Warlord has allowed me this liberty." Jaskier starts, kneeling in front of Cahir. 

"I won't help you." The man says.

"So you'd rather die?" Jaskier asks, surprised. "And that would be useful to whom?"

"Would he listen to one of your soldiers? We have a few that could give a message?" Yennefer asks.

"None would be your messenger." Their prisoner spats.

"What's your name, soldier?" Eskel asks. "Tell me, don't tell me. I don't care. My Consort wishes to send a message to your liege. I'd rather send him back someone he would listen to. Hopefully he would heed his own General?"

The man stays silent.

"What's your name? C'mon.” Jaskier urges him and comes closer so he can whisper: “I’m Julian Alfred Pankratz, surely you can give me your name.”

“Julian?” He answers, looking at him anew like he’s thinking hard, differently. Jaskier is very talented at reading people, years staying in inns have taught him that.

"That I am. Did your emperor talk about me?"

The man nods hesitantly, clearly at a loss about what to do and Jaskier is pretty surprised that this man knows about him… But at the same time, Duny would have had to trust someone to bring Cirilla to him… Jaskier bets this man was tasked with capturing Ciri and that he failed since he’s here now. Ciri might be safe somewhere then. He hopes Geralt finds her.

"Well. He knew me as Julian and I knew him as Duny. It appears as I was using my name, he used an alias. I always preferred Jaskier but Queen Calanthe didn't want me to be the bard when I visited. So yes, I am that Julian. And now, I am Jaskier of Kaer Morhen, Consort to the Dragon Wolf. What is your name General?" Jaskier asks again. Eskel feels his medallion vibrate very softly; it's barely perceptible. He doesn't react outright but he knows he will ask about that later.

"Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach."

"I would like you to give a message to Duny, Emhyr or whatever name he claims. Tell him that Julian says hi. And that if he killed Pavetta, I'll make him suffer so much, the curse he lived with the day we met, whatever is his worst nightmare will be nothing in comparison to what I will do. I do not fear his white flames. Your King is nothing but a hypocrite. Barging into Cintra to claim Law of Surprise and cannot offer the same courtesy when he owes someone the same Law. If his words mean nothing, I'll render him as such as well. Do tell him those words. I do not mean them idly."

Cahir nods obediently.

"Be grateful, General and remember." Yennefer smiles. "You owe a life debt to Jaskier."

She and Tissaia open a portal and push the man through it.

"And we let him go?"

"Mercy is not a weakness." Eskel reminds them. "Or we would have wiped your lot with those fuckers who made us." Eskel adds.

The mages gasp at the threat and rudeness. Eskel simply turns his back to them and walks away, not feeling the need to continue talking to them nor fearing them. Jaskier giggles and runs to him, grabs his arm and begins to speak with him. Yennefer curtsey to them and after a nod to Tissaia she follows them. 

*

The forest is quite deep and there are a lot of corpses littering in the woods. A man is digging to bury those poor souls when a hand shoots up from the ground soundlessly. Then another does until four ghouls are up and walking toward the talking man.

When one tries to reach for him, a sliver reflection on the moonray comes and the head falls. The man screams. The witcher just turns and raises his silver sword again. He dispatches the remaining monsters.

"Leave them here. Place is already full of ghouls. You want to die?" The white one asks.

"They deserve rest."

"Not at the cost of another life. Who would bury you then?"

The man nods and they both walk away.

The sun is going up when Geralt feels a tugging sensation, maybe its Fate pulling the strings but that means Cirilla is near. He runs in that direction and sees her. Finally. She looks nothing like the royal from the party. She looks like a child, so little and so dirty, terrified but strong, running toward him as fast as her small legs can carry her. He crunches down and she lunges into his arms.

"Papa Knight!" She squeals. "I knew you would find me."

"Of course." He mumbles onto her pale hair. "Ciri, we have to go back to Kaer Morhen where it's safe."

"Not Cintra?"

"I'm sorry." Geralt whispers. She is so fucking small in his arms.

"Don't be. Dandy warned me that when the times come I'll need to leave with my Papa Knight. You'll keep me safe and teach me how to be as strong as you?"

"I promise."

She hugs him tighter and he lifts her, it takes a minute to find a good way to carry her and then he walks back to Roach.

Chapter 15: Unexpected Visitors

Notes:

Enjoy!

The tales of the battle of Sodden go far and wide on the Continent. It travels all places in the North thanks to Jaskier and their merchants’ caravans and in the South because of Cahir's return with his tail between his legs - not that Nilfgaard likes this description but people talk, traveling merchants spread words like no one else. 

Nowadays, everybody knows Wolflands keeps Nilfgaard in the South so Eskel has become a legitimate King. Wolflands has been officialized as an empire by all Northern Kingdoms which chose to be part of it. They keep their own names but are under the Dragon Wolf protection and agreed to follow the Dragon Wolf' laws. They chose this. Other neighboring countries don't get the choice but to acknowledge the rising empire. They don't wish to fight those armies so they accept begrudgingly. It suits Eskel just fine, he’s quite done with fighting men led by stupids rulers…

Wolflands' cities on the other hand are ecstatic and so they make shrines in the Witchers' deities' names to show their allegiance. 

Jaskier’s songs are sung from the sea to the mountains. Every soul in the Wolflands knows the verse of Behold the Dragon and the many others that have been written since the day Jaskier was rescued by Eskel. And the sight is forever burnt - pun totally intended - into his memories. He means, Eskel was so magnificent that day and continues to astonish Jaskier with his kindness and his beauty! And the bard has two witchers to gush about now. Eskel and Geralt are so inspiring and so worthy to have songs written about them: two perfect muses and ye Gods, the sight they make, the cuddle they give and the sex… Has Jaskier written songs about that? Yes, he has! He can go in length about their mighty swords and their asses, their chest and abs, their tights and their hands! Their hands and their callousness, the roughness of their touches and the tenderness they use when handling him. It's-

"Catmint." Eskel rasps, clearly affected by his smell. His pupils are blown wide and he nearly prowls to him.

"Yes, my dear?" Jaskier asks innocently.

"What are you composing?" He rumbles, but it's not truly a question, Jaskier can hear that much and decides to just ignore the taunt. His Wolf looks tired under the teasing, so Jaskier asks instead: "Need time away from your desk? I am delighted to be your choice of distraction."

"I needed to feel like I- like I could be just- me… for a minute."

"Oh my love." Jaskier murmurs and pets Eskel's hair when the witcher kneels on the rug at his feet and rests his head on his laps. He sags and basks in the moment of peace.

"How may I help?" Jaskier asks, massaging Eskel's scalp. He groans happily. "You already are."

"Flatterer."

"It's those stupid Nilfgaard's letters…" Eskel says at last. "I feel like I'm just wasting my time writing back and forth with that man… And Ciri doesn't want to have anything to do with her blood father with how he handled her capture in Cintra… Why did he have to go by force instead of negotiation and now it falls to us because Ciri is with us. Don’t get me wrong, songbird, Ciri is ours, but fuck… I wish it was Calanthe's problem"

"Hush, my lovely Wolf." Jaskier replies softly. "I'm sure you're doing brilliantly." Jaskier adds, then starts singing softly close to a lullaby: "You're a star, the sun and my most beloved. My dear Wolf, how I love you. You’re everything I cherish and then comes the moon and you may rest. Be at peace, the sky guards your night." 

"Most beloved?" Eskel chuckles. 

"You're both my most beloved Wolves. It has never been a competition."

"Catmint. Beloved. My favorite bard on the whole Continent. Never stop singing."

"Of course, I am your favorite bard." Jaskier fakes outrage that it could be any different.

"Hm…" Geralt hums from the doorway, enjoying the sight of his lovers together.

*

Nilfgaard issue notwithstanding, things are good in the Wolflands, Drakenburg is growing, there are more and more houses and workers, the fields are getting bigger and the shrines get flowers and offerings. Jaskier loves to go take walks around the town and watch how it changes, it’s beautiful. Cirilla is also delighted to be able to wear her disguise to play dice with other children in Drakenburg - under a huge escort of witchers - because she is not being left on her own even if she never notices them. Cirilla runs off to find her friends, her best one is a boy called Dara, Neremyn and Lyari’s son, their elven favorite merchants. When she finds him, she grabs Dara’s hand, she waves at Geralt who nods back. He throws a look to her many guards who roll their eyes but dutifully follow her again, mostly Cats and Cranes.

Jaskier stops in the square and takes his lute out. He smiles when people already start to gather to hear him play. He notices Geralt, hiding in the shadow of a stall because of course the White Wolf is following the Warlord’s Consort around. It’s his duty. Geralt doesn’t mind, one because he’s with his Lark and second because Jaskier is a trouble magnet, there is never a boring moment with his bard. It’s ridiculous how much he loves him.

Jaskier opens the strumming with Behold the Dragon and Drakenians cheer. He’s playing one song after the other, taking requests and sometimes playing from his White Wolf cycle repertory. Sometimes, he just plays a dancing tune to rest his voice. It’s during such a moment that something caught his attention again. A shadow of something lurking but nobody seems to notice, Jaskier can also feel being watched. He tenses and Geralt is at his side barely a minute later. His witcher’s eyes are asking if he’s alright and Jaskier nods. 

“White Wolf!” a young child cheers. “Is it true I have to howl to call for help? Can you teach me how to do that properly?”

Jaskier stops playing and snickers.

The child is soon followed by a lot of them from different ages, all swarming around Geralt and saying with their little high pitched voices: “show us, show us!”

“Yes, show us!” Ciri asks with her mischievous eyes.

Geralt clears his throat, feeling very much out of his depth and chins high, he howls. The sound is deep and loud. He howls like a true wolf. Jaskier watches and smiles when the children squeal in delight and tilt their chins up and try howling. It's done with various levels of success.

“Hm.” Geralt hums thoroughly. “You might need to use your bellies more, perhaps ask our bard how to keep a note?”

“Way to throw me to the wolves.” Jaskier replies when dozens of pairs of eyes look at him. “Teach us!” They shout and Ciri giggles.

“Alright, alright.” Jaskier laughs and demonstrates with a beautiful howl, melodious and he keeps it longer than necessary and the children are perfectly impressed so Jaskier gives a side glance to Geralt. The witcher rolls his eyes.

Jaskier continues to explain how to breathe to put sounds out but there is something on the edge of his vision that is distracting him.

“Consort Jaskier needs rest.” Geralt says very softly, one knee on the ground to appear smaller.

“White Wolf!” The children call and their parents come forward to make them leave and thank them profusely. 

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks, helping his bard with his lute. The witcher is very proud to be able to carry the precious instrument.

“It’s nothing… I’m not sure, later?” Jaskier answers and gives a look over Ciri’s head and Geralt agrees: “Hm. Then let’s go back-”

Geralt moves so fast, Jaskier isn’t sure he would have noticed it if Geralt wasn’t touching him. He wraps an arm around his waist to keep him where he is and is shielding him from something and Ciri is tucked neatly between them. She gasps at the manhandling and the position of the weakest. Aiden and Lambert are daggers out in front of them while Idwin and Aurby are at their backs. At least ten more witchers are hiding in the shadows, Jaskier knows. Talk about overprotectiveness, Jaskier thinks fondly.

“Well.” a voice chuckles darkly or at least it sounds ominous to Jaskier. Movements catch his attention again, behind the man who approaches them. Jaskier notices he’s tall and lean, and has green cat-slitted eyes. It’s a witcher he has never seen.

“Who’re you?” Geralt growls, not appreciating the leering face nor the unknown witcher approach.

Ciri looks behind her Papa Knight and her Dandy but doesn’t try to move away, feeling perfectly safe where she is. She feels the distrust radiating from her guardians and can hear her Grandmother’s voice telling her to stay hidden and let adults who cared protect her while she just enjoys being a child. She shivers when the man tries to get a better look at her, she’s very squitish since the black rider kidnapped her in Cintra…

“Jad?” Aiden asks. ‘Motherfucker, you’re alive? Where you’ve been?” Aiden says and runs to hug the witcher who returns the embrace.

“I missed the call to arms… was a little too far from the caravan.”

“Where?” Geralt growls out, a deep sound that continues because it’s weird as fuck that a witcher would arrive so late…

“Ebbing.”

“And it took so long to come back?”

“I traveled with my family.” Jad smiles, showing a woman and two small children.

It’s weirder yet because there is no honey and warm bread and yet they don’t truly smell of anything, not even the woman. If Geralt couldn’t hear her heart, he would think she was dead. The children on the other hand smell wary but happy which is not weird if they had to move from one place to another. 

“I don’t like him.” Idwin mumbles so low Geralt nearly misses it and he knows nobody else but Aubry heard the young Viper. Both Wolves tense because Idwin may be young but he has good instinct. Geralt doesn’t appreciate that the Cat was so far down South and decided to be back now, especially now.

“Well, good to have you back!” Aiden smiles at the other Cat. “So who’s the lady? And how did you lend her?”

“Laetitia.” She says with a small courtesy. She seems polite enough.

“Watch them.” Geralt whispers to Aurby and Idwin who nod. They were going to, anyway. They go up the now good trail to Kaer Morhen. It's still called the Killer so nobody forgets its first use and name and also because it keeps outsiders away from it. 

Jaskier chats with the woman and plays with the children but she doesn't seem relaxed which he can understand being surrounded by unknown people but still. Jaskier doesn't feel like he will forge a strong friendship with her and so decides to entertain her like he would anyone. Geralt, who knows him around different folks, knows immediately that Jaskier won't get attached. It's weird and it just truly makes Geralt dislike this Cat. There's something fishy about the situation. Nobody smells of nothing. 

Jad is being welcomed by his brethren under Eskel's inquisitive gaze. He's not the only one curious or wary of such an arrival. But they truly have no reason to refuse the return to one of them as late as they are. 

Lisa is staying next to Dragonfly as she usually does since she has become a witcher or more like since she is a trainee. She still prefers Cedric and Axel but Dragonfly is a woman witcher and she shit from no one. Lisa wishes one day, it will be true for her as well and she will be strong enough to rescue her brother, though she understands she cannot do so without the Warlord's approval lest she becomes a pest that needs to be swat. She hasn't talked about Leonard since she arrived but she has learnt to appreciate the other trainees, they are yearmates and family in a way. She won't forget Leonard even if she forges her own life and own friends. 

Jad is looking at her with his expressionless face and she finds it strange that he doesn't give away his emotions with his smells.

"He has always been this way." Dragonfly whispers to her. 

"Huh." 

It still makes her uneasy so she prefers to stick to Dragonfly who doesn't care about him and doesn't try to speak with him.

*

"You should tell him." Geralt says and Jaskier stops dead in his tracks.

"I don't want to worry him." Eskel answers with a defeated tone.

Neither seem to have noticed him which is truly a first.

"He is already worried." Geralt scolds. "Ask for his help!"

"I don't want to burden-"

"Helping you is not a fucking burden, Eskel!" Geralt growls. Jaskier is pretty sure it's a recurring argument if Geralt's tone is any indication.

"I-"

"Jaskier may be a bard first and foremost but he was born a Viscount and he's far from stupid. Don't tell him I said that." Geralt must glare now, Jaskier imagines.

"I won't." Eskel's tone has changed which means Jaskier has been noticed.

"Lark." Geralt sighs.

"So I'm far from stupid." Jaskier teases and kisses Geralt then Eskel. "What do you need me for?"

"There have been weird activities following Ciri's arrival, and spies."

"Spies?" Jaskier gasps.

"We cull them out, make them do meaningless tasks or give them false information."

"You sniff them out." Jaskier chuckles. "Witchers." He adds fondly.

"But still…"

"Jad's arrival has put you on edge." Jaskier says not to beat around the bush. He has noticed the look the witcher gets. "What about him?"

"He doesn't smell of anything most of the time. Treyse says he is just like that but we don't like it."

"Because you heavily rely on scent to gauge someone's moods. Well, lucky for you I'm a traveling bard and a Viscount, reading a room is one of my many skills."

Eskel seems to hesitate. "I don't want- I won't risk you."

"Eskel." Jaskier sighs and cups his head. "What are you worried about?"

"What if we are right and something happens to you. I would be the one to have asked-"

"You are not asking, I'm doing it on my own free will. I want to help."

"Better we all plan something together or he will do it anyway. And you won't know until it's done.". Geralt adds, clearly having lived that experience more time than he would have liked.

"Jad is careful around us. But-" Eskel explains, nervous like he rarely shows and it translates to half finished sentences.

"But I'm the squishy human, he might drop his guard."

Eskel nods.

"I'm in." Jaskier repeats to Eskel who looks more alarmed than ever, now that this is not up for debate anymore. "We are equals, right? Let me help."

"Geralt thought you might make him admit his true purpose if he thinks he can dispose of you after creating enough mess to weaken me."

"And I am your Consort."

"Hm." Eskel frowns.

"It's easy enough. I can get some time away because you're both too smothering which is half true and I can coincidentally meet him or I'm pretty sure he won't miss the opportunity to speak with me."

"How can you be so sure?"

Jaskier taps his nose. "I don't need to smell to know. I don't feel safe around him and Idwin doesn't like him. Neither does Aubry now that I think about it. And Leatita doesn't share a lot. She sticks to her children and Jad… I don't know." Jaskier shrugs. "Too many suspicious people have made me look at him with a different mindset."

"Our clever little bird." Eskel says.

"Not so clever to come into the wolves' jaws." Geralt teases, licking and nipping at Jaskier's neck. Their bard has no choice but to press close to Eskel's front. He licks the other side and grinds against him.

"And who says it's not clever to be in the midst of Wolves? I'm the safest." Jaskier moans.

"Hm." They both answer, hands disrobing their lark skillfully and getting out of their clothes as well. 

Jaskier is sprawled on their sheets, the dark color of those sheets making his sunny creamy complexion stand out. Geralt kneels at his feet where Jaskier’s legs are dangling from the bed, barely touching the ground. His hands touches his skin until they reach his tights, Geralt licks the inside of his parted legs, nipping the skin there and making him sighs and when Jaskier has closed his eyes, Eskel twists a nipple and Jaskier shouts in surprise but Eskel’s palm comes flat on his chest and keeps him there. 

“Don’t move today, Lark.” Geralt whispers, breath ghosting over his prick. 

“Fuck.” Jaskier curses and Eskel kisses that expletive, devouring his mouth and leaving them both breathless while Geralt licks him everywhere. Eskel makes their tongues dance again to distract him, his hands roam everywhere and Jaskier clutches his sunlit Wolf to keep him near. Eskel chuckles and looks at him, pleased and Geralt chooses that moment to swallow him whole.

“Wolf!”

“Easy, beloved. Let him get you ready for me.” Eskel murmurs and opens his legs to give Jaskier’s room to work.

“Ready.” Jaskier laughs, all tension and nerves but he touches Eskel’s thighs and ignores his sunlit Wolf’s prick to go a little further. 

 “Don’t make him come too fast.” Eskel rasps as Jaskier expertly teases his rim and uses his fingers.

Geralt hums and Jaskier shouts again, tears gathering on the corner of his eyes and Eskel licks them away. It takes little bending and twisting to do that but Eskel is weirdly flexible for such a tall man. “Hush, love. Should he make you come first so you can please me longer?”

“No.” Jaskier begs, watching Eskel’s face carefully for signs of discomfort. “I want you.” 

“And you shall have me. You do have me.” Eskel promises and he gasps when Jaskier twists his fingers just right. The heat is pulling at the bottom of his belly and he’s aching for more.

“Both of us.” Geralt says, pulling their bard’s fingers out and guiding Eskel down. He sinks onto his Catmint slowly, savoring the moment. Jaskier very happily enjoys the show his lovers make: Geralt drapes over Eskel like a blanket and his hand finds Eskel’s prick, moving his rhymes with Eskel rolls of his hips to pleasure Jaskier and himself.

“You do make such a glorious sight.” Jaskier moans, adoringly. Eskel is gripping him like a vice and if watching him going up and down is not such a treat… Jaskier is a lucky bastard. He wants to close his eyes in pleasure but he wants to watch them both.

“Beloved.” Eskel gasps, surrounded.

“You should see yourself, Eskel, you’re so beautiful taking your pleasure from me and Geralt, you’re such a beauty, I feel so lucky.”

“Love you.” Geralt murmurs. “Both, so much. I don’t have the words.”

“Fucking hell.” Eskel stumbles but Geralt catches him and makes sure he stays the way he is: on display for Jaskier as he goes up and down. The slow pace is maddening but Geralt doesn’t allow more, the smug bastard. The sensation of the peak takes Eskel by surprise and the way his movements jerk once more makes Jaskier breathless and hopeless to the tide and he follows. Geralt takes himself in hand watching his lovers on their bed and covers them in white. 

“Filthy.” Jaskier mumbles, Eskel chuckles and kisses his hair.

“Hm.” Geralt hums.

He goes looking for a wet towel to clean them and Jaskier is petting Eskel’s hair as he snores. They smile at each other, happy and proud for making their Sun finally relax to sleep.  Geralt washes Eskel first and helps Jaskier then they surround Eskel and let themselves drift.

*

Time stops for no one, not even mages and words are like a disease, they spread far and wide without a cure. Even the censure, King Vizimir orders can do so much but it does enough. And more importantly, the King believes the rumors that are born from bigoted idiots who hate witchers. 

A few months later, a carriage is going up the trail, Drakenians have sent words ahead to the Keep but the guards are adamant, the carriage is a tribute to the Warlord of the North and will be given by them. Niade snorts but nods. She makes sure witchers know even if she’s sure they would see the convoy way before the guards notice. They would be dead before they could do anything so she’s not worried.

Inside the carriage, a woman clad in elegant if impractical silk is clutching her male companion’s hand,  her gold ring a perfect match to the man’s own. He’s also wearing uncomfortable clothes himself. There are also jewels and other offerings with them because they are a gift to the Warlord.

“I’m sorry.” He says because they are being sent as sacrifice to the monstrous appetite of a man who’s rumored to be more than a man. 

“Don’t.” She replies softly. “I’m not mad at you.”

“If-”

“I’m happy you’re not alone right now.” She whispers, as strongly as she can. She knows she won’t survive this, no woman survives the night in the Warlord’s chamber. He has two male non-human lovers because no one else could live and tell the tale. She hopes, her dear friend will live or perhaps she hopes they would both die fast and swift so they don’t have to suffer… But she knows they won’t be this lucky. 

“We’re here.” He says breathlessly, clutching her hand harder. “Look.”

Outside, standing proudly is the Dragon Wolf’s imposing lair.

Chapter 16: Redania’s tributes

Notes:

I hope this chapter comes out as I wanted. Tell me what you think.

How Jad manages to fool them all is a wonder. Their suspicion never leaves but at the same time no proof has either been found. He played a relatively long game. It's been months and now Jaskier is missing and Eskel knows it's Jad's fault. An exchange… Ciri for Jaskier. Because Ciri is always guarded like the most precious treasure while Jaskier does wander here and there with an escort but he’s an adult… and now he's missing, he has been taken away. Eskel is enraged. Jaskier is supposed to be under his protection… What's the point in being a Warlord if he can't keep his own Consort safe by his side. But Eskel doesn't want to clip Jaskier's wings… Nor makes a true protection team and makes him feel watched. Jaskier needs to still be free and contrary to Ciri he would notice if he had an escort.

"We'll find him." Geralt says.

"You-" Eskel stops himself.

"It's not the first time he's been captured under my watch…" Geralt growls. "I'm worried but Jad won't kill him. He needs him alive."

"Alive but in what shape?" Eskel growls.

Geralt chuckles.

"What?"

"Eskel. Bro- My Sun. Ask yourself what shape we're gonna find Jad in." Geralt grins, teeth on display in a feral quirk of his lips.

"What?" Eskel asks in obvious confusion.

"You may have saved us in Ard Carraigh but Jaskier wanted to play by the rules and he was taken by surprise. He never liked Jad so he never let his guard down around him. I assure you. Jaskier is having the time of his life playing our damsel in not-distress."

"Bloodthirsty little fae bard, huh?" Eskel says in wonder and then adds: "Fuck… We got the craziest lover, don't we?"

"Hush. Nobody, lest our brothers, needs to know." Geralt chuckles and nuzzles Eskel's face.

"Let's find our little beloved Sky." Eskel growls.

*

The carriage of tribute choses that exact moment to arrive in the courtyard where Eskel, Geralt and a huge number of witchers are gathered to take a portal to where they think Jaskier is. Yennefer managed to catch a spark of Jaskier's very particular chaos and so now that they have a location, they can use that rage somewhere.

The guards are very much cowered by all the eyes that turn to them in one move. Predators, their brains scream.

"Now?" Eskel snaps, remembering Naide's warning. "Put the carriage there and get lost. Tell Redania we received it and shall answer it later. I'm busy." 

"They-"

"They?" Gweld cuts. "Our tributes are slaves?"

"No! The Duke de Velen's grand-son and his wife are now at the Warlord's disposal." A brave guard says, clearly having memorized those words.

"They sending humans now?" Is the whispers of his brethren around him so low it's for witchers' ears only. What's wrong with sending sheeps and books like the previous tributes that were given.

"My disposal.” Eskel says and waits a minute before barking. "Well, what are you waiting for, make them come out and introduce themselves. I'll meet them and be on my way."

"Yes, of course, Warlord." The man stutters, shaking.

Two young people are helped out of their carriage and they bow and curtsey in front of them, shaking and reeking of fear. They are wearing very thin clothes, silk like and even see through, it’s not appropriate for high in the Blue Mountain. Eskel doesn't know what could lead those two young souls to be here now. Did they accept to be sent here?

"Are you here by your own free will?" Eskel asks before they can give their names.

"Yes, Warlord of the North." The man answers.

"Yes, my Lord." The woman answers as well when Eskel clears his throat, prompting her.

"Hm." He hums, they don't seem to be lying.

"Swear one after the other that you are not here to harm the Warlord nor the Wolflands." Gweld, the tall man by the right side of the Dragon Wolf requests, but it is definitely an order.

"They-" a brave guard starts but a dozen snarls stop him.

"Was our liege addressing you?" The sorceress says to the guard who cowers.

They both swear to have been indeed sent here as tributes by King Vizimir and not to harm anyone nor that they wish to.

His tributes have barely managed to look up his chin in fright, even if they don’t behave like most frightened people Eskel knows. If he wasn’t a witcher, he wouldn’t have noticed the shaking nor the fear. How can such young people hide their emotions so well… What kind of raising and parents do or require that? And has nobody warned them to wear more practical covering clothes so high in the mountain and North? Nobles… 

"So names." Eskel asks finally and impatiently. His worries for Jaskier makes him abrupt.

“I am Duke Aleksander of Velen, and this is Milena, born de Roggeven, my wife. We are honored to be here." The man says with a bow before his eyes try to settle somewhere safe. He doesn't want to offend any of the witchers barely after arriving. He can do this. He's used to talking in a court and being as inauspicious as he can. He can do this.

“Welcome to Kaer Morhen, Aleksander, Milena.” Eskel says as kindly as he can when he’s just pissed from Jaskier being captured. “Lambert!” Eskel barks even if his brother is near. He does so more for the benefit of the two in front of him than anything. “They are yours. You stay here, we’ll be back."

“What!” Lambert sputters. “No way I’m not coming with you. And I don’t want them!”

Aleksander and Milena both flinched at being gifted to another and also publicly rejected before their guards. They will report it to their- is he still theirs- the King of Redania. 

“Lambert.” Eskel growls in warning. “I need to go and they are new here, they need someone to show how it works around here.”

The words “ how it works around here” don't sound good… But they don’t move. What can they do?

“Does- Does this mean the Warlord accepts the tributes?” The lead of the escorts asks.

“We’ll take them.” Eskel answers and makes a new move to emphasize to them to leave faster. Eskel turns to them and says: “Lambert will take care of you. Aiden, keep him under control, will you?”

"Fuck you! I don't need a keeper!" Lambert shouts and growls. It doesn’t help the two newcomers' fright.

“Of course!” Aiden chips happily, sashaying to where his lover is and watching their guests curiously. “C’mon, it’s gonna be fun and Buttercup is gonna be back soon anyway. ”

“I'll miss all the fun.” Lambert complains.

“Lamb.” Eskel sighs and raises an eyebrow, giving him a leveling look.

“I know.” Lambert nods and straightens as if a decision has been reached.

"This is Lambert, my brother.” Eskel points out like it means it is an honor which must be... They are being given to the Warlord's brother. Perhaps the guards won’t say they failed at not being what the Warlord wants. They are still being accepted after all and also in the royalty of Kaer Morhen. 

“And you begone, you’ve been here long enough.” Eskel orders shortly to the guards being rooted to their spots. Once they regain the use of their legs, they cannot flee fast enough which leaves them, two humans barely better than slaves in the courtyard of the Warlord of the North who could care less about them it appears. But his brother is rumored to have a temper as fierce and explosive as his red curls. 

“He'll take care of you while I'm out. Do listen to him." Eskel orders so Aleksander and Milena both nod and watch as the sorceress, probably Yennefer, opens a portal and a huge group of witchers leave the courtyard. And then, they are with the Warlord’s brother, Lambert whose eyes are a particular shade close to orange, hair curly and as red as flames, glaring at them and watching them with a frown on his face. He’s as terrifying as the rumors say. 

“Let’s go inside. You're not clothed to stay out there. And we don't want you to fall ill. That would be annoying." 

"As you wish, my Lord.” Aleksander answers respectfully.

The witcher, Lambert waits some more watching Milena who wants to cower.

“Good for you too lass?”

“Yes, my Lord.” Milena answers dutifully.

“Not a Lord, Name is Lambert.”

“You’re the Warlord’s brother.” Milena gasps. “I wouldn’t dare-”

“Please, do. Just Lambert is fine. And that’s Aiden.”

“Hi!” He waves and Lambert starts walking away, Aiden closing the rear. 

They are entering the Keep, between two witchers, one who is the Warlord’s sibling and the other an unknown but clearly a favored one if he can keep the first one in line. Gods. What will happen to them?

The first room is a huge hall lined with six tables and one more is standing on a dais. It’s obviously the Dragon Wolf table if the big chair and snarling wolf where a head would rest are any indication. There are some witchers who look at them then turn to the red-head.

"Who's that?" One asks, eyeing them up and down.

"Pretty." The other chuckles, a strange smile on his face.

They freeze and they watch as the witcher who made the remark tilts his head and wrinkles his nose, opening his mouth again: "I-"

Lambert snarls to their stupefaction. The sound is closer to an animal than a man. It makes an unpleasant shiver go down their spines.

"Back off. They're mine." Lambert snarls protectively. Eskel put them under his protection and Lambert hates the rotten vegetable scent they are giving. But he can't force them to trust him. The best he can do is protect them and make sure they are not bullied by his brethren. 

"Easy Cariad. They know." Aiden says patiently.

"Lambert" An old man says with a particular infliction. "Ah." He breathes out when he sees them.

"Old man." Lambert greets with weirdly a very respectful tone for the words he says to the older man which means he is, at least, of an equal rank. Lambert is a Prince or a Duke with him being the Witcher's King's brother so "old man", could it be his father?

"So? Who're they?" The old witcher asks.

“Aleksander and Milena from Redania.” Lambert answers without adding anything else. They both share a quick look in surprise. 

“I am Vesemir. I’m in charge until my son is back. Welcome to Kaer Morhen." He says to their guests and turns his eyes on Lambert to ask: "You’re taking care of them then?”

“Yup.” Lambert answers. 

“Hm. Put them in the room near yours, you know the one.”

“Have some Bears bring a few things. I’m not sure about the bed in this one. I think it’s broken.” Lambert requests.

“It’s definitely broken.” Aiden laughs, remembering how they both broke the old bed that was decades old and wasn’t able to withstand their play.

“I’ll ask them to bring a new one.” Vesemir sighs, he didn’t need to know that. “Jan.” Vesemir calls.

“Yes.” a man, probably in his thirties steps out of the shadow at the call, bowing quickly to them and coming by the witchers’ side. 

“Jan, our chamberlain.” the old witcher introduces. “If you have questions, you may go to him. Bring some- duvet or whatever humans need.” Vesemir grumbles. “Orley, let’s go back to work. And son, be good." Vesemir begs.

“Yes, Grandmaster.”

"I am good!" Lambert retorts exasperated to be treated like a child in front of his charge. Talk about humiliating. He scolds darkly and walks away.

"Move your ass!" He barks.

"C'mon." Aiden says more kindly. "Before he gets grumpier." Aiden means it to tease Lambert and try to make their guests lose their tension but it doesn't work at all.

"They are led through a lot of corridors in silence and have no idea if they would be able to know the way back.

"Our room is here." Lambert knocks on a door and opens the one next door. "And that one will do for now. I'll ask Eskel about what to do when he's back, don't worry."

Worried? They would not say they are worried about their room arrangement… They are terrified of everything and of what will befall them. The room has, indeed, a broken bed but the chimney seems clean even if they won't use it. They will probably be dead or put somewhere else and die there before Winter arrives. There is a desk and a chair and a closet. Simple and sturdy.

"Fuck. Do you have luggage?"

"Yes, my- Yes." Milena answers.

"I'll fetch it now." Aiden offers and leaves them with only Lambert. The one tasked to control the red-head is gone. They watch him go but two other witchers enter the room to put the remaining of the broken bed out while three big men bring parts and assemble the thing faster than what they are used to and then there's a big bed instead of the previous small one…

"Husband and wife, we assume you sleep in the same bed?" Lambert says after the uncomfortable silence.

"We do." Sasha answers this time and Milena grabs his hand and squeezes in support.

"Hm. Rooms are charmed so sounds can't be heard outside because witchers have sensitive hearing so if-" Lambert starts but a knock interrupts him.

"Master Lambert." The man who was introduced as Jan says.

He arrives with his hands full of linens and a duvet, a servant behind him brings a water basin to wash their faces and Aiden is back, bringing thankfully their luggage that don’t have much inside. What was the point of sending their belongings with them when they were sent to die. 

"Your things." Aiden grins and takes a seat without much ceremony, straddling the chair. 

“We'll bring you dinner later." Lambert says. 

“You must be exhausted from your travel and the Keep is under a situation. We can’t welcome you properly right now.” Jan explains, before bowing and leaving.

He leaves the door ajar and they can hear the discussion outside.

“Will I need to show them the Hot Springs later?” Jan asks, the servant clearly is loyal and won’t go against his masters for two strangers. But still, it would have been a comfort to have an ally here, someone who could relate to them. 

“No, they will stay in their room until Eskel is back. Aiden and I will show them after, I guess.” Lambert answers from behind the door and Aleksander and Milena share a distressed look.

Hot Springs. What is this place? Is it like a room where they are going to be passed around? They do notice the wide grin the witcher, Aiden, is sporting on his face at the mention of the Hot Springs. He smiles at them and they both understand the meaning of “prey” right now. The witcher, the Cat, is watching them like a cat watches a mouse before it pounces.

"We’ll see about things and the likes tomorrow. I'll take my leave now. Rest well, it’s gonna be a big day tomorrow. You’ll need the energy.” Aiden says and leaves, closing the door behind him with a soft click.

“C’mon Lamb! I want to go to the Hot Springs now.”

“Impatient ass.” Lambert answers.

“Like you’d miss the opportunity to see that many asses in one place?” Aiden laughs loudly.

“Fucking Cat… Exhibitionists, the lot of you.” Lambert curses fondly and then their voices are too soft to be heard.

*

Milena sits on the bed with a deep sigh and Aleksander sits right next to her.

"I'm so sorry Milena." He says.

"I told you to stop apologizing for your grandfathers and our King's decision."

"But if-"

"Then you'd be alone here and I'd be dead anyway. It's no secret your grandfather killed all his spouses." Milena chokes. "I'd rather be with you…"

"Milena…"

"I wish you'd survive the witchers because you would be alive but I don't want you to suffer endlessly…"

"Swear heart."

"If- If we stay the Warlord's brother, Lambert's. Perhaps we might both survive since- no woman escaped the Warlord's bed."

"His glare was so terrifying and his warriors were all so-" Aleksander makes a gesture.

"What do you think those Hot Springs are?" Milena asks.

"Might be a brothel? I mean, why we were sent was obvious…" 

"Sasha. I'm so scared."

Milena weeps and clutches her ridiculous clothes and Sasha hugs her. They both cry together at this unfairness.

*

They don't know how much time passed but a knock later interrupts them.

"Yes?" Sasha shouts.

It's Lambert and he's bringing a tray with stew and bread. Besides him is Aiden with a pitcher of water and two cups.

"Supper." Lambert says and puts everything on the table. 

"Leave it outside when you've finished and we'll take it away."

"Where is the restroom?"

"The rest-? Ah, end of the corridor, this way." Lambert says pointing to a direction. "Need to go now?"

"I-"

It should be safer to go with this witcher and have their master to defend them? With his reaction earlier in the hall, it might be safer?

"Yes." Milena answers softly.

"Alright. Let's go and then dinner and sleep."

*

Vesemir came back to them during one of their dinners to explain how things are going to be until their Warlord is back. They are not prisoners but not free either because their arrival is very suspicious with some issue they are dealing with… They can walk around escorted by Lambert and Aiden but are not free to wander around. They are mostly confined to their room. Weirdly, they aren’t touched by anyone during this waiting time though Lambert and Aiden both keep them company every afternoon. They are also not touching them which is pretty unsettling…

“Eskel is back!” Milena and Sasha hear a voice shout to Lambert who’s with them right now. The man grins and takes his leave. Aiden grins at them too and closes the door behind them. They both know it’s never locked but each time they wish to go somewhere a witcher is ready to accompany them. They are being watched until the Warlord is back because perhaps being given to Lambert only meant that he is their keeper until their rightful owner is back. Jan brings them supper but nobody else comes. Their night is a disaster, they keep waking up and whispering to each other soft reassurance, weeping or trembling and so the rest is bad.

In the morning, it's Aiden who knocks and opens the door to lead them down to the hall so they eat breakfast with everyone. Aiden looks at them and notices the light clothes despite the morning fresh air and the scent that works as a cloak around them. The tears and fear mask everything else. He does notice their individual scents but it's so hidden that he doesn't try to breathe more than necessary.  

"Breakfast?" Aiden says in lieu of asking how their sleep went since it's obvious with their dark eyes that it went poorly.

"Yes, Lord Aiden."

"Aiden is fine. Witchers don't stand on ceremony." Aiden says kindly as he leads them slowly.

They enter the hall and a hush falls.

"Get back to your platters." Lambert growls out. "Fucking hell, one would think those asshole never saw a noble human before."

Eskel snorts. Gweld guffaws. Geralt just watches them, amused despite his blank face. 

Milena and Aleksander look around, witchers are everywhere. Some look younger but the cat slitted eyes mark them as witchers nonetheless. On his side, it seems like a seat is empty then there is the White Wolf, unmistakable with his hair and next to him is a child with blond nearly white hair and pretty green eyes, the shade lighter than Aiden’s but they look normal. That girl is not a witcher? And she is sitting at the high table, who is she? Is she the White Wolf’s daughter? Next to them is the sorceress who’s looking at them with a grin. 

The right-hand is obviously on his liege’s right with Lambert directly by his side and the old witcher, Vesemir. They look around and don’t understand where they are supposed to sit if they are, indeed, welcomed to breakfast.

"C'mon." Aiden says. "You're with me." And he walks to a table in the middle where three seats are available. One on a side and two on the other. Aiden shows them to the seat where they can be next to each other and he takes the other one. They are the nearest to the high table which is weird because shouldn't they be on the exact opposite? Does belonging to the Warlord’s brother make them privileged? What's the price to that? They thought they would eat with the servants…

"So- our new companions." A Cat says. He has a snarling cat on his medallion as does Aiden. "Welcome to the madhouse. Name is Cedric."

"Don't scare them." An older witcher says, slapping the back of the man's head. "I'm Guwart. Don't listen to him. Pretty sure he's being a little shit right now."

"Gux!"

"Be nice to our newcomers."

Breakfast is a strange affair. They both get enough food and way more than necessary. Aiden speaks or tries to engage them in conversation that they try to navigate as well as they can without having the etiquette not to make mistakes.

Soon after breakfast is done they are led to the Warlord's office. Eskel is sat behind a big desk while Lambert stands on his left side with Aiden and Gweld - his Right-Hand name is Gweld - stands at his right obviously while the white haired man rests on a huge and comfortable sofa near the hearth.

The old witcher, Vesemir, is also there closing the door while the younger witcher comes to a desk and opens a journal and gets ready to- scribe?

"So- what am I to do with you?" Eskel asks, it seems, to no one in particular. "What are you good for?"

They flinches.

"Let me amend that. What are you good at?" Vesemir asks.

"I'm a Duke's son so I know politics, etiquette, finance and huh?" Aleksander lists off.

"He can draw very well.' Milena says suddenly. "If you need drawing done- I mean."

"That's not a bad idea." Lambert cuts her rambling. "We could get new bestiary's pictures done or flowers for my alchemy. Might be better to start with the alchemy shit rather than monsters. Those are creepy as fuck."

"And you, lass?"

"I'm a Marquess's daughter so I'm very well verse in the art of receiving nobles, etiquette, dancing and embroideries but-"

"Embroidery?" Eskel asks seemingly very interested which makes his expression turn thunderous to those who don't know him. Those who do find it to look like a puppy. All that is missing is the wagging tail. Gweld can't tease about it because he is the worst.

"Yes."

"My Consort likes pretty things." Eskel explains.

"Of course." Milena agrees. But she would need material and that might be an issue… they have no idea about her skills and she could get punished for failing-

"Write a list of what you need, both of you. Jan will take care of it." Eskel cuts her internal whirlwind.

"Eskel!" A voice shouts as the man enters and stops dead in his tracks. "What is that?" 

"Tributes from Redania."

"Wearing whores clothes?" Jaskier asks bluntly.

"That's not a noble fashion then?" Eskel asks.

"Of course not! Have you seen me wear that? No wait. Let me amend that. Have you seen me wear that outside our bedchambers?"

“You don’t wear anything in our chamber, get naked as fast as you can…” Geralt mumbles. All the witchers want to bring their face down a table surface, hard and Eskel nearly blushes but outrage takes precedence and so he asks: "So they send me- what? Their children, as whores?"

"Redania?" Jaskier asks them.

They nod.

"I was born Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" 

"I am Aleksander of Velen, heir of Velen and Grandchild of the current Duke of Velen and this is my wife, Milena formally de Roggeven. I might not be the heir any longer though…"

"A Duke's heir and a Marquess's daughter?" Jaskier repeats. "What did you do that two high ranked married people who could produce an heir to Velen are given away to the Warlord of the North who is known to be a monster to Redenia?" 

"I-" Aleksander seems to choke and looks at them.

"Stop that Sasha." Milena begs as the poor man falls to his knees. His breathing goes fast and then he collapses on his kneeling wife who shouts in alarm to see her friend in such a state.

Notes:

Thank you all for reading!

Chapter 17: The Song of the Seven

Notes:

Title is of course from Blood Origin’s song.
The first part of the chapter happens just after the tributes have arrived to the Keep.

While the Redania’s tributes are panicking and Eskel and his group have just left the Keep worried out of their minds, there is one soul that is most at ease, despite his situation.

Jaskier is playing music, taking notes and singing on a log like it's a banal afternoon. All the witchers were more than ready for a fight, not for their friend to be composing a new song without a care in the world. They take in the scene, a few dead corpses near their bard giving away the blood smell but what makes them stop and stare is the wolf which seems to be listening to Jaskier, sitting on his heels and utterly content.

The first striking thing is its size. It’s enormous, way bigger than a regular wolf. And if that doesn’t make it a creature, then the weird fumes like ember cooling enveloping him would do. It has white fur but for a patch of blond on his belly and for his paws that look like he walked in ashes. Half his face is made of bones instead of flesh and fur with lines and dark dots like a music sheet and three very distinguishable lines that Eskel would bet his sword’s arm match his own facial scars perfectly. Its- His - because the wolf is male -  his eyes are a very deep shade of amber, near the colors of lava, a beautiful red-orange that glows as they watch them. That wolf is definitely Other and it is simply sitting near Jaskier and looks happy to listen to their lark sing. Trust him to attract another wolf.

Witchers should make a new entry on their bestiary - for the records, it does end up in the how to survive Jaskier's guideline - 

~ Jaskier ~

Species: human with fae heritage and probably many more - bet ongoing - 

Class: bard 

Variations: none 

Occurrence: unique

Susceptibility: Geralt, Eskel, his lute (music)

Tactics: charms you by being himself and talks a lot, likes singing and dancing

Loot: depends on who encounter him

How to best him: find Geralt or Eskel. If you touch his lute, you're doomed

Bestiary entry: 

The bard has eerie blue eyes and chestnut hair that tends to curl if he lets it grow. He's very tall even if his clothes - doublet and silk - make him appear smaller and leaner than he is. He’s quite strong so do not underestimate him. He sings like a siren - he is not, that has been checked out - nor an incubus - also checked out - and dances in a very enticing way that is contagious. You want to join in.

His lute is his baby. Do not touch it. [written by Orley]

He has chaos linked to nature and knows how to use it. Do not badmouth witchers [written down by Yennefer] or his friends [is added by Galen]

Kidnapping him is the last thing you will do. Either he will summon creatures that look weirdly cute and which can kill anything which is terrifying. Or he will have an army of Witchers to rescue him. Not that he needs them. 

~ End entry ~

But that's a story for another time…

“You sure took your sweet time.” Jaskier giggles when he sees his witchers. “My friend and I were wondering what was taking so long.”

“Catmint.” Eskel breathes.

“Oh, my Sun, were you worried?”

“Of course.”

“And you, my Moon?”

“You’re far from a bard in distress.” Geralt groans - of course he was worried - and walks to his lark without fear. If that wolf was dangerous, Jaskier wouldn’t smell so happy. He kisses him. “Who’s your friend?”

“Funny that you should ask. I saw him first in Sodden and then a lot of time in Drakenburg, always near his shrines. I present to you, the Wolf Spirit.” Jaskier says with a flourish, both hands coming to make a “tada” gesture pointing at the Wolf who is staring at Eskel. 

“Wolf Spirit.” Eskel nods at the beast who nods back and comes to Eskel who crunches down. The wolf rubs his face on Eskel’s scared side. The fur caresses his skin and Eskel closes his eyes. It's so soft and smells like safety. An echo of a whisper reaches him deep into his core then both his hands come to touch the wolf who disappears into nothingness. Eskel stays with his eyes closed for a moment and then stands up.

“Beloved.” Eskel whispers and kisses Jaskier, hungrily. “Charming our Wolf Spirit.” He chuckles. “Only you.”

“And he touched only you, blessed only you.” Jaskier murmurs proudly.

“You could tell?”

“My chaos is linked to nature and Destiny. That’s why I saw him first.” Jaskier explains. “But he’s born from you, from the trust and fealty people gave you.”

"You triggered this with your songs." Eskel whispers in awe and has the pleasure of seeing Jaskier looking bashful. 

"Of course you did." Geralt chuckles. "With how many songs about witchers you sing and with Yennefer's training. Of course you awaken ancient magic."

“I love you.” Eskel whispers. “Both of you.” He whispers. You’re everything, he thinks but keeps for himself. But his lovers smile like they know already and echo the sentiment.

They clean up the mess made by Jaskier and the Wolf Spirit because those jaw marks are definitely the wolf’s but those petals they see everywhere are Jaskier's. It’s truly not a pretty sight. Whatever it’s Jaskier or the Spirit, Jad hadn't had a painless death. Which, good because Eskel would have burnt him alive for the betrayal, and for taking Jaskier away when Eskel had sworn to himself we would protect his loved ones.

"I'm safe love. You can't protect me from life." Jaskier whispers when Eskel tenses again with his spiraling thoughts.

"I can try." He growls unhappily knowing it's futile to try that. Jaskier giggles and kisses his jawline. "Hm, hm." 

"I know I can't but-" Eskel murmurs. But if I could hoard Geralt and you safely away, I would. Eskel thinks. He would never because that would destroy them and he loves them. Gods be witnesses, he loves them.

"I love knowing you care enough to want to protect me from everything and respect me enough to let me be free." Jaskier whispers.

“Can’t clip a bird’s wings.” Eskel murmurs and Geralt hums in agreement.

Jaskier doesn’t answer with words, he kisses his Sun on his lips then takes his time to kiss his scars and whisper praises onto his skin.

After a moment of basking in their proximity and now that the witchers have calmed down with cleaning, surveying the perimeter to ensure Jaskier's safety and hunting to provide him with food and rest, Jaskier says, tone serious: "I learned some disturbing news." 

"Did you now?" Geralt asks.

"Jad was sent by Emhyr to capture me so you would agree to exchange my person for Ciri."

"Hm."

"Did he now?" Eskel rumbles, his chest vibrates with the growl. The other witchers growls as well, thinking murder again. Jaskier grins. They are so overprotective of their pack. It's a wonder they even managed to walk the Path alone… Well, many did form groups.

"The fucking emperor of Nilfgaard again? The one our Dragon Wolf beated him and are negotiating with?" Gweld growls.

"I knew that asshole wasn't trustworthy." Idwin snarls.

"We knew that." Jaskier says. 

"Yes but Temeria also helped them." Gweld adds.

"Temeria?" Jaskier asks, surprised at this information.

"We got ambushed on our way to you. Our first portal was intercepted."

"Yen?" Jaskier asks. Is she alright?

"I was as surprised as you are." She scoffs. Jaskier grins back knowing that she will find out what truly happened and make the culprit pay. It's also certain it will never happen again.

"So Henselt decided to be a greedy bitch?"

"Looks like it."

"Is anyone injured?"

"No." Gweld says. "We Quen-ed as soon as we went through the portal."

"They were stupid to think we wouldn't be careful." Yennefer says. "Like, you, missing wouldn't make us more nasty."

"That's why you were so surprised to see me well."

"Yes." Geralt answers.

"So Temeria." Jaskier grins. 

"Temeria." Eskel grins back. "And we sent a message to Emhyr. Next time, we will end him. I'm done playing nice."

*

When they get back to the Keep very late, one week later, a new King has taken his position in Temeria's court and after a rudimentary wash, Eskel feels the tension finally leaving him. They soak for a while, just basking in the nothingness to do. Lambert and Aiden join them.

“Baby bird, good to see you back.” Lambert says.

“How was your week?” Jaskier asks because he was surprised when Lambert and Aiden were missing from the search party.

“Tense.” Aiden answers. “Our guests are terrified.”

“Guests?” Jaskier asks.

“Yes, tributes from Redania.” Lambert scolds.

“As in, humans?” Jaskier clarifies.

“Two of them.” Eskel sighs, tiredly.

“What the-” 

“Might need you to make them calm down. They were so fucking scared and sad…” Lambert requests.

“Of course.” Jaskier nods. 

“Tomorrow, Buttercup. They are resting now.”

“Alright. We should do that as well, my loves.”

“Hm.” 

When they reach their room, Eskel just collapses on their bed, Geralt nudges Jaskier to get in the middle and draps an arm around his waist. Eskel does the same a moment later and breathes in and falls asleep. Jaskier smiles at being home.

*

The next morning, Jaskier wakes up, a second time, alone in bed. The sheet has been pulled to cover until his back, and the curtains are definitely hiding the sunshine. The bed is cold now, his lovers must have left quite some time ago. Jaskier is the only one who can truly lay doing nothing in the morning. His witchers are too used to waking up at the ass of dawn to stay put. They might if sex is involved which often is but then they leave and he falls back asleep. Jaskier feels the delightful aches and takes his time getting ready.

Witchers greet him with salacious grins when he arrives so late and smelling like he does in the hall and he grins widely at them. He takes his time to eat what’s left on the high table and then decides to check in with Eskel because didn’t they say they had guests?

"Eskel!" Jaskier shouts as he enters and stops dead in his tracks. "What is that?" Jaskier continues when what he wants to say is “Why the fuck is that meeting so tense and awkward?” 

"Tributes from Redania." Eskel answers, his eyes are begging him for help so Jaskier asks bluntly: "Wearing whores clothes?" because he needs to clarify the purpose of those tributes.

"That's not a noble fashion then?" Eskel asks now that he’s really watching them and yeah, their clothes are- they don’t seem appropriate for a court. Eskel has never seen that even on the very few nobles he had met during contracts.

"Of course not! Have you seen me wear that? No wait. Let me amend that. Have you seen me wear that outside our bedchambers?"

“You don’t wear anything in our chamber, get naked as fast as you can…” Geralt mumbles for witchers' ears only. All the witchers want to bring their face down a table surface, hard and Eskel nearly blushes but he also can’t glare at his bro- at his lover because he might be taken wrongly by their guests who smell more and more scared. So outrage takes precedence and he asks: "So they send me- what? Their children, as whores?"

"Redania?" Jaskier asks them even if that has been said a lot already.

They nod.

"I was born Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. To whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?" 

"I am Aleksander of Velen, heir of Velen and Grandchild of the current Duke of Velen and this is my wife, Milena formally de Roggeven. I might not be the heir any longer though…"

"A Duke's heir and a Marquess's daughter?" Jaskier repeats. "What did you do that two high ranked married people who could produce an heir to Velen are given away to the Warlord of the North who is known to be a monster to Redenia?" 

"I-" Aleksander seems to choke and looks at them in alarm. Jaskier’s eyes go wide in surprise.

"Stop that Sasha." Milena begs as the poor man falls to his knees. His breathing goes fast and then he collapses on his kneeling wife who shouts in alarm to see her friend in such a state. His breathing comes out in pants and his heartbeat is so fast, the witchers are scared it will burst.

“Triss!” Eskel shouts and rounds his desk. His hand moves in front of the boy before he can think it over. “You’re calm. It’s ok, no need to answer that yet.”

“I’m calm.” Aleksander repeats like in a trance. Milena tenses some more, afraid. What was that?

“Good.” Eskel says and releases the sign. “My apologies for that. I do not enjoy using that trick but I needed your husband to calm down before he injuried himself.”

“Witchers don’t use that very often, in extreme cases. I promise you.” Jaskier interjects softly and brings Milena to a chair because she looks as white as a sheet.

“You can control minds?”

“Not really mind control but close enough and only for a very short amount of time.” Eskel answers.

“Is- What does it feel like?”

“Like your brain is melting in cotton.” Lambert answers then. “It can’t be used for a long period of time. Too much effort to keep working. And we won’t use it on you or anyone without a good reason. Some people can resist it.”

“You called.” Triss enters with a bow.

“Check them for a curse.” Eskel requests. “Something is fishy. Now that I got close enough, I can feel something blocking my Axii.”

“Is that so?” Yennefer mumbles arriving on the scene.

“There is indeed something but it’s strong and has taken root.” Triss says. “Might be tricky to get rid of it without harming the boy.”

“Please.” Milena falls to her knees. “We don’t mean harm to you, Walord.”

“I believe you.” Eskel answers. “But your husband is cursed. Stand up, lass." 

"Does he do that often?" Jaskier asks her, helping her back on the chair.

“Sasha gets a little lost in his head sometimes. Since-”

“What triggers it?” Yennefer asks harshly, turning to the poor girl.

“Questions like Consort Jaskier asked.” She says.

“What does he know that he can’t speak of?” Jaskier mutters.

“I would like to invite the Warlord to my house.” Aleksander says suddenly.

“Sasha.”

“I’m good Milena.”

“A trap?”

“No. Just- Would the Warlord be interested to visit Velen?”

“Something in Velen that the Warlord would like to see?” Jaskier asks, coming right in front of Aleksander who nods. “But you can’t say what.” The boy nods again.

“Something hidden away. Has your grand-father done something akin to the monster-King?” Yennefer asks coldly.

“Cast aside because you disagreed.” Jaskier hums. “Duke of Velen, the man who kills his spouses but no, that’s not that. I wasn’t aware of any other atrocities he did, so something we don’t know about.” Jaskier is mumbling his thoughts out loud. "Strong, huh? It has been going on for a while but you only discovered it recently." 

Aleksander doesn't move but more importantly he doesn't disagree. 

“What will happen to us, now?” Milena asks a strange mix of wariness, fear and hope.

“Well, you’re my tributes.” Eskel says. “You’re mine to guard now.”

“What my darling Wolf is trying to say is that you are both safe here and nothing will happen to you. Nothing you don’t want anyway.” Jaskier smiles. 

"I don't harm my people." Eskel agrees.

Are they his people? Milena thinks astonishingly. That easily? When they could be lying? Why would the Witchers trust them? They were sent as tributes, as playthings for the Warlord of the North but he has a Consort whom he listens to and who is not afraid of him at all. Even Queens fear their Kings most of the time. And here is Consort Jaskier completely at ease, fearless and happy. 

“If someone gives you shit, I’ll beat them for you.” Lambert growls. "Or I could teach you to do that? Would you like that?" 

“Seconded.” Aiden grins.

“Oh!” Milena gasps and she surprises even herself when she says. "You would?" 

"Sure." Lambert grins.

“I want to go back and soak in the Hot Springs.” Jaskier whines. 

“Let’s go then. Our guests need to wash as well.”

“Wait, Hot Springs?” Milena asks in surprise.

“Yeah?”

“Like literal Hot Springs.” Aleksander says astonishingly and they share a look.

“Yeah?” Lambert answers, tilting his head and watching them like they are a puzzle to solve. 

"It would do you some good." Aiden says as he draps an arm around his shoulder. "That ok? I forgot to ask if I could touch you."

"It is." Sasha answers and Aiden smiles softly when it's the truth.

It’s barely been a week but they feel like the previous days were a bad case of miscommunication. They haven’t been harmed even with that curse in the way and all the questions the witchers obviously have. It will take time but they will make a place inside Kaer Morhen and learn how to navigate this strange court.

That evening Jaskier sings a new song about Spirits being born to guide each School and their Witchers. A song of seven spirits linked by hardship and Destiny, born from people singing about them loud and proud. Seven spirits apart but united as one fist. He doesn’t describe them all, only the Wolf Spirit that he saw and made sure this one is joyous and a good omen to be sung.

*

"Darling, what did you do?" Eskel asks a few days later, entering the bard's music room.

"About?" Jaskier replies, looking up to his sunlit Wolf. Geralt who is reading on a sofa behind Jaskier raises his head as well.

"Nilfgaard." Eskel says.

"What about Nilfgaard?" Jaskier says like he doesn't know. He rests his hand on his laps. Geralt stands up and comes by their side.

"That." Eskel shows his bard the last letter he received.

"What does Jaskier have to do with it?" Geralt asks, reading the content over Jaskier's shoulders.

"We accused Nilfgaard to cohort with Temeria and Jad to kidnap you. But their answer doesn't make sense if there isn't another party getting involved in the middle.

"Hm." Jaskier hums.

"Jask?"

"I reminded Emhyr of the words I spoke to Cahir." Jaskier says. 

"Oh." Eskel whispers.

"During Sodden?" Geralt asks to clarify.

"Yes." Jaskier nods. "Cahir owes me his life, dears." 

"Oh." They both gasp, finally understanding the meaning behind that fact. 

"And I sent words that are very close to a curse to Emhyr. Whenever it works or not. I'm part fae. It's enough of an incentive to behave, especially when Cahir has been ill those last few days."

"How the hell do you know that?" Eskel asks. 

"I have my ways." Jaskier chuckles. "Trust me."

"Alright." Eskel answers. "Though I'm dead curious."

"Might be his spy network he doesn't want us to know about." Geralt chuckles and Eskel grins back. "Sandpiper." Geralt says before leaving their room.

"Come back here!" Jaskier yells and before he can run after Geralt, Eskel has grabbed him by his waist. "Eskel!"

"Stay here for two seconds. Let him believe he can escape us." Eskel whispers, kissing him on his shoulder. "I'll help you catch him."

*

Nilfgaard being more or less taken care of - they will stay quiet for a few months before an issue arises again - the main problem is the current curse that is keeping Aleksander quiet on a sensitive topic. It takes an entire month, during which Aleksander and Milena settle and find a small place to exist in Kaer Morhen. It’s not much yet but enough to feel that they will be ok. The curse is not gone yet but Aleksander manages to explain and spills enough using metaphors. He's a smart lad. The Warlord looks mad but he never loses his temper and listens until the end. He nods in thanks and dissims him. Sasha runs back to Milena and he cries.

Eskel is seething.

“I can’t believe that they would keep one of us to try to make more of us!” Merten growls.

“Poor boy, to live with that secret.” Vesemir sighs.

“Redania will have to answer for that crime.”

“And sending us tributes as if Eskel would need help to fill his bed.” Jaskier growls.

Witchers shudder in empathy even if those people don’t deserve any. Never insult a witcher, least of all Eskel or Geralt, their bard will destroy you.

“Quite the insult.” Geralt agrees.

Eskel blushes. He knows what he looks like since he got those ugly scars on his face that pull at his lips and make him scold more often than not. 

“I-”

“Nope. You’re our beautiful Sunlit Wolf. No badmouthing.”

‘But-”

“Nope.”

“Jaskier is right.” Gerat agrees.

“Of course I am.” Jaskier puffs.

“Catmint.” Eskel groans.

The Council members chuckle.

“Alright, boys, time to plan.” Yennefer says trying to reign in some orders.

*

At dinner, Eskel lays out the news. Witchers look at Aleksander when Velen is mentioned but it’s barely for a second.

“Velen is our next destination.”

“Dragon Wolf.” They chant.

Both humans are in awe of the fealty they can hear in that title, so far from the way Kings are treated.

Chapter 18: The Dragon Wolf's justice

Notes:

Next chapter is the last one. Some ideas that didn't fit here might end up in What if Witchers take Jaskier to Kaer Morhen.
Thanks for those who are still here.

Eskel feels like he has no time to rest and is just conquering lands after lands like a damn tyrant… Even if most people, who have truly been under the ones whom tyrants are a name they deserve, disagree. Eskel sighs after Gweld says that Aleksander’s curse is still active and prevents them from finding where in Velen their brethren might be because Vesemir has said that it could all be an elaborate trap and he advises to wait more. Their old man wants to stay cautious, the timing is suspicious. But it has been more than a month since their arrival and nothing happened… Lambert and Aiden think that both are trustworthy because they were truly scared and not scared of having the curse discovered, just scared of being their tributes…

Since learning about the curse, Aleksander has been seeing Triss and Istredd every day. He doesn’t enjoy being at the mercy of mages but he understands that refusing would make him fall into the enemy's flag and so he endures the fright. He even managed to explain more or less what is in Velen and why it's urgent witchers have to go there. Milena stays by his side, his dutiful wife and beloved friend. They both love each other dearly and also have different tastes in men, similar and yet complementary. Oh, they would have provided an heir or two without having to force themselves but nothing is more amusing than to talk about their taste in men. A secret garden they share, probably a shameful secret but theirs nonetheless.

Both mages are looking for a cure, and it’s a complicated process. Whoever made that curse was no amateur and it’s quite tricky to study, and will be harder to cure. But they will, and as long as Aleskander doesn’t try to speak about his taboo he shall be fine. From what both mages get, if one is in the known, the taboo curse shouldn’t activate. 

Their hope now is for Eskel, Yenneferl and his chosen team to learn what is the wording of this taboo so they may break it for good.

*

The witchers make their stop to Velen by portal without sending words ahead so the current Duke of Velen cannot prepare to hide whatever they are looking for. 

The duchy of Velen stands East and South of Tretogor and is bordered on its Southern edge by the Pontar river. The lands are fertile and prosperous. Eskel can attest to that but he doesn’t like the reason for their impromptu visit. What does the uncle of King Vizimir and the grandfather of Aleksander have to hide that they cursed and sent away the heir of the lands? Because they sent them to Kaer Morhen to die. There is no mistake. 

“Witchers?” the stewart of Velen stammers in fright. “We were not aware of a visit…”

“We humbly ask for shelter before we set foot to Tretogor to answer your King’s tributes. We’re back from quite a hunt in Aedirn and followed the river for a faster trip. We are tired from the road” Gweld announces, daring the man to refuse to offer hospitality to them when they are indeed no allies but not enemies either.

“Call the Duke.” the stewart hisses to a maid. It doesn’t take long for an old wealthy man to arrive. 

“Welcome to my humble home.” the man says, lying through his teeth. “I am Duke Aleksander of Velen.”

“Greeting Duke of Velen.” Gweld says, ignoring his name since to him Aleskander is another man, way more worthy to be Duke of Velen if that man is hiding what they think he is from them. “I am Gweld, Right-Hand and Salamander to the Warlord of the North, Eskel Amber-Eyes, Dragon Wolf of Kaer Morhen and King to all Witchers.” Gweld introduces himself and Eskel in one go. The old man sees the scarred Witcher with his red cape and tenses. He scents shifts from disgust to disgust and fear. Eskel smiles knowing it will pull a little on his scars like he's snarling. The Duke looks very more and more uneasy after sweeping his eyes on the group. He is not happy to have witchers at his doorsteps.

“We were en route to Tretogor. And wanted to see Velen since one of my tributes was born here.” Eskel says slow and calm, his rough tone giving nothing away about their fate.

“Be welcome." The Duke lies, a fake polite smile on his face. "You must be tired from your trip, Warlord, we’ll show you to your rooms.”

“Maid." He barks. "Bring his soldiers to the barrack.”

“Yes.” She bows fearfully. She is terrified of what the witchers will do to her… She is fortunately disfigured enough that the Duke hasn't glanced at her but would Witchers care about that? She leads them to the soldiers barracks. A man, huge and tall dissims her with a wave of his hand and she startles, bows again for good measure and flees.

"Did you see her face?" Ezra asks.

"Like all the girls, something like above twelve years old?" Merten agrees

"And for the younger ones it seems new, like it's needed to appear… ugly?"

"Jaskier did warned us but-" 

"At nightfall, we explore." Merten says. "We need to find the place where one of us is kept captive."

"Aye." They all agree.

*

They don't find anything at first but a part of the duchy does reek of magic and is inaccessible. Between the lies from the Duke and his household, this secrecy and the curse of silence. It makes the witchers wonder what more is wrong there. They do notice that the number of women inside the duchy is near to none. Cyser goes to Eskel, sneaky as he is, it's a piece of cake to arrive in his room.

"We didn't find anything but there is a space where we managed to follow a lad, probably the mage's apprentice and it was weird."

"Weird how?"

"Weird as in too much blood scent weird."

"Humans?"

"Yeah… the vile odor of death." Cyser continues.

"Hm." 

"The Duke is as much of a monster as the rumors say." Jaskier says.

"So the girls are indeed scarred to avoid getting his attention. I thought Jaskier was exaggerating when he explained" Cyser growls.

"I wished I was." Jaskier sighs. "If it was just the girls dying because the Duke's appetite is of young flesh, it wouldn't have required a curse." Jaskier repeats. "Everybody knows but he's the King's uncle.." 

"Should we just invade Redania." Gweld growls.

"Fuck this…" Eskel grumbles. "Let's deal with this first and we'll see." Eskel pinches the bridge of his nose.

"The mage Gustavus looked at the witchers with a glint I didn’t like at all." Jaskier adds.

"He is a mage." Cyser growls. 

"Yes but they both smell worried and too interested." Gweld grumbles.

“Most people do when they see us.”

“It was suspicious as hell.  If it was a trap, they would smell like glee.” Geralt says.

"We need to enter that place then." Eskel orders.

"I won't be left alone to be able to go there undetected…" Yennefer sighs.

"But I might be able to request it." Jaskier offers.

"Jaskier?" Eskel sounds surprise.

"I'm Redanian Viscount, more or less."

"More or less?"

"I'm my own son."

"What?" all the Witchers shout at once.

"I'm Julian Alfred Pankratz, named after my father who is me technically. And so my real blood father has now become my grandfather. I don't age so I needed to protect myself. Jaskier the bard is the son of the first Julian of my family who is now deceased."

"That's-"

"Brillant?" Cyser whistles.

"It worked out." Jaskier grins.

"How old are you?" 

"That's just plain rude." Jaskier gasps, faking outrage and dismay. "Something close to fifty five?"

"Nearly as old as that old man!" Idwin chuckles.

"Pot meets kettle.” He scoffs and punches the Viper who simply laughs.

"Not that there is anything in common but being born Redanians." 

"Should we use brute force to see the place?" Cyser asks, not liking the plan to expose Jaskier.

“We’re not using you, Jask.” Geralt cuts in when Jaskier is ready to explain his plan. 

“None of us want to expose you further.” Eskel nods in agreement. “But if there is nothing, we'll be considered mindless beasts and we might put the Wolflands in jeopardy." Eskel says. He trusts Aleksander but it also could be a ploy to discredit him. That has been quite the topic around his close circle.

"Perhaps we can ask for Eist again and another trusted noble from another country to come. Even a Redania’s noble?"

"No. Redania may warn the Duke and the mage." Yennefer disagrees. 

"Eist again then. And one of the Aedirn's Prince this time?"

"That might work. Then we request to see and be sure nothing is amiss?"

"Let's call them tomorrow morning. I'll make a portal to fetch them. Again." Yennefer emphasizes and leaves to go to her room. "Good night."

The next morning, after having found Eist who is delighted to go on another adventure to Camanthe's consternation and a willing Aedirn's Prince, they corner both the Duke of Velen and his mage.

"What is the meaning of this?!" The Duke shouts.

"If you have nothing to hide, it's easy to prove us wrong. I give you my words as the Dragon Wolf that should I be wrong, you may ask one favor." Eskel proclaims. He knows it's risky but he trusts his guts instincts. They have never led him astray yet. That's why he's alive.

"No. That's blasphemy. King Vizimir would never-"

"Duke of Velen." Jaskier cuts, done with the pleasantries. "We are not asking. Either you show your innocence now or you are guilty. If you have nothing to hide from us that would show you as a monster, it’s easy enough.”

“Shut it whore! Spreading your legs for a mutant.” The Duke insults but Eskel’s swords is already nipping his neck. A small drop of blood is falling.

“Watch your tone.” The Warlord growls.

While all the Witchers are distracted, the mage Gustavus doesn't wait for more and tries to cast a spell on them but Yennefer is ready. She pushes him away with one defensive shield and grabs his head with both hands and dives in, she looks only to see the curse of Aleksander, she doesn’t want to see the horrors he committed. She takes the knowledge and discards him. Ezra doesn’t waste time and cuts the man's head, for such a huge man he moves very swiftly. 

"So this is how it is." Eskel growls. "Either I kill you know and discover what monstrous deeds you committed or I discover them first and have a good reason to end you. Your choice."

"You cannot-"

"Where?" Eist asks. "Calanthe would want to know if something is amiss. We are allied to the Dragon Wolf. We have been there to punish Temeria. Do not think we don't trust the Witchers."

They drag the Duke to the doors where a block has been placed. Yennefer bursts said doors in one go and they go down. They go down a flught of stairs in a resounding noise that makes even Jaskier winces. They mask it well and Cyser takes the first step down. They arrive inside a room. What they see inside freezes them. It's worse than what they imagine. An alchemy lab with books and bowls of hideous contents. There are cells on a far side of a wall. But what makes them stop is the man straps to a table like an animal to be dissected. 

And the man is a witcher Merten never thought he would see again.

"Aren." Merten breathes, pain and disbelief coloring the name. He takes a faltering step forward like he's going to crumble.

The- His cub turns his head and frowns, terrified to have been finally, after decades, rendered insane. He is seeing Merten.

"Do you see them too?" He asks to, it seems, no one in particular.

"We do." One of his own cub answers from within a cell. "Who're you?" She asks louder, bravery shining through her eyes.

"Merten, School Head of the Manticores. Aren is my cub which makes you, of mine too." 

"Merten?" Aren begs for it to be real.

Merten comes and touches Aren softly. "We got you Cub. Ezra."

"I got it." He says as he destroys the strap on and free the poor abused Manticore. He moves and frees the girls too.

"One hundred and eight." Aren cries. "All those girls."

"You're safe." Merten promises. "We will take care of you at Kaer Morhen."

"The mage." One girl asks.

"Dead." Cyser promises. “Big man killed him.”

"Good." They say and flock near Aren.

“Merten, those are my pride: Maja, Zia, Elena, and Ada.”

“Welcome to the Manticores. You are safe now.” He reiterates. “Aren, my Cub” He whispers and hugs his kin again.

"I didn't know!" The Duke lies.

"Aren?" A dirty blond and very scarred-face witcher with a wolf medallion asks. "I am Eskel, would you like the honor?" He offers, giving him his silver dagger while the Duke who enjoyed watching the proceeding screams and is being held down by two other witchers.

"Yes." He replies and takes the blade. "Silver?"

"Silver is for monsters." Eskel replies.

Aren grins and manages to decapitate the investigator. He staggers but Merten helps to steady him. "Let's burn this place down."

"With pleasure." Eskel grins.

"Oh my Gods." Jaskier says when he sees their new addition. "Those monsters."

Eskel ushers them out. All the servants have been given ten minutes to gather their most precious belongings. When the house is empty, Eskel casts an Igni. It's powerful and so easy to make. The Wolf Spirit's blessing is helping him using his chaos. Jaskier grins at him because of course the fae can feel it with how many times he helps him. 

"Tretogor." Eskel requests. "Want to come?" He asks Aren and the girls.

"We want to see it to the end."

"I'd rather not come." Jaskier says. He doesn't want to see Vizimir. It might create more problems.

Yennefer opens a portal for Jaskier and Geralt so they go back to Kaer Morhen and then she opens one directly to Tretogor”s throne room. Eskel also has a piece of mind to say about the tributes.

*

When Eskel comes back from threatening the King of Redania and taking Velen into his territory and some more lands to prevent the Warlord of the North from taking the whole of Redania, he doesn’t come back with only whom he left with. Livi is among us, little Olivia who was betrothed to the Duke. Eskel asked for her since she was to be Duchess of Velen that she be payment for the slight and King Vizimir couldn't agree fast enough to have them leave with most of Redania still unconquered. Milena hugs her frightened friend and takes her under her wings. 

Yennefer is the last one to go through the portal and she goes directly to Aleksander and frees him from his curse. It takes so little time for her to entangle the mess now that she knows it. The young noble can feel the difference now that he’s free and he looks in wonder to the primary Court Mage.

“There.” Yennefer says. 

“Thanks, my Lady. I am in your debt, Warlord.”

“You are the Warlord’s subjects. You tried to warn us about our kinsmen being held captive even with the curse.” Yennefer smiles. 

“No debt.” Eskel answers at the same time.

“That him?” Aren asks, eyeing the boy with curiosity. His girls are less shy, they openly watch him, whispering between themselves.

“Yes. Aleksander, he was cursed but gave us enough so we could rescue you.” Eskel explains.

“Come on, you all need rest.” Merten says and guides his pride to his old room that he never uses because he shares rooms with Leocadie.

“I can’t believe you managed to free them so quickly.” Aleksander says, falling back into his chair.

“Witchers.” Jaskier chuckles as if it’s all the answer they need.

*

Yennefer is in a mood since coming back from Velen and after what feels like too many days, Geralt confronts her about it because Ciri asks - pleads - with him and he’s weak to her puppy eyes.

“You’re asking me? You?”

“I am. Because we are friends.” Geralt growls.

“The man who helped Gustavus…”

“So he was helped?”

“He was. It’s-” Yennefer shudders.

“Who?”

“Stregobor.” Yennefer spats and Geralt growls. “I know I can’t do anything about him because I am sworn to Eskel but by the Gods do I want to.”

“Who says we can’t” Geralt says, anger coloring his tone.

“Because we can’t attack Ban Ard, even if it’s in Kaedwen just because of suspicion and with our past, it would feel like a vendetta.”

“Fuck this!” Geralt growls and walks to Eskel whose eyes widden when he sees his Wolf’s temper.

“I need a favor. You won’t like it.”

“Ask me.” Eskel says.

“I need to kill Stregobor.” Geralt requests.

“The Blaviken mage?” Vesemir asks for clarification.

“That one.” Geralt nods.

“He helped Gustavus.” Yennefer supplies.

"Why does that name sound familiar?" Jaskier hums. "Oh! Streg-…" Jaskier trails off with a shudder. "I don't like him." He says without further words. Geralt squeezes his shoulder in support. Jaskier puts his hands on Geralt's to keep him near. 

“And he took my brother away!” Lisa yells because they are in the training grounds and are having this conversation in front of the whole Kaer Morhen.

“I guess we are asking Ban Ard for Strebogor’s head and if they refuse, I will simply claim it.” Eskel sighs, knowing refusing Geralt is near to impossible and now he has three good reasons to take this monster’s head. Besides, Ban Ard is in Kaedwen. There are on his lands, aren't they?

*

“I don’t want to force your hand.” Geralt whispers the same night.

“You’re not.” Eskel whispers.

“Geralt.” Jaskier says with a firm voice. “That asshole deserves to be turned into a slug by Yennefer and burnt by Eskel, maimed by me. Truly, he is a monster: discarding lives as he did, does, will continue to do makes him a monster. Witchers kill monsters.” Jaskier says, getting on his elbows on their bed and watching his lovers.

“Can we not talk about him in our bed?” Eskel requests.

“He started it.” Jaskier pouts.

“We playing that game?” Geralt rolls his eyes.

Jaskier tries to tickle him without success and Geralt pins him down.

“Come devour me my Wolves.”

“Festy little fae.” Geralt groans, grinding their bodies together.

“C’mon, give me a show.” Eskel orders, voice rough it sends shivers down his lovers' spines.

Jaskier moans and he babbles inconsistencies at Geralt's touches. He tries to caress as much but he's not sure he's succeeding very well. Everything is warm and pleasant. It's complicated to think and have coordination when Eskel's voice is washing over him and Geralt is obeying him. Jaskier is lost to the sensation of growly sounds brushing his tingling skin and Geralt’s big palm warming his skin. 

"Finally reduced to silence." Eskel chuckles.

Jaskier tries to say their names without succeeding.

"Hm. Such a pretty sight." Geralt chuckles as well.

"Wolf." Eskel growls and his childhood friend gets the meaning without him needing to verbalize it so the White Wolf makes their Lark sing some more. Geralt caresses and kisses, thrust and uses his fingers, he licks and he nips. Jaskier loves it. All movements of their coupling are done under the watchful gaze of the Dragon Wolf. Eskel is lounging on a nest of pillows, he’s as naked as his lovers but a small sheet is still half hiding his legs, his hand is fisting his prick in times with Geralt’s languorous thrusts, watching every expression crossing Jaskier’s face. His cheeks are pink and he's panting now, having finally given up on trying to say their names.

"Eskel." Geralt moans because it’s him calling the shots.

"Hm hm." Jaskier agrees, his hands grab Geralt where he can and Eskel laughs: "greedy."

Jaskier tries to nod and is kissed for his effort.

"Slow Geralt." Eskel reminds him when Geralt can’t help but move faster. "Make him feel it."

“Esk-” Geralt groans and Jaskier gasps again. And his next attempts to urge Geralt on are fruitless so he just moans and pants some more, his eyes finding Eskel to beg him. He tries to talk but each syllable is swallowed by Geralt’s lips and each letter is lost in a wordless breath. Eskel simply smiles at him. Fuck, his Wolves are magnificent. Geralt pinches a nipple when he notices the far away look of their bard. 

"If you can compose Lark…" Eskel trails off.

"N-"

Geralt thrusts deeper and Jaskier giggles when the sensation borders on too much and moans when Geralt slows down and lets him come down a little, his nails are scraping Geralt’s tights and he’s so hard, it hurts. There are so many flowers on the bed now, both witchers chuckles.

"Alright.” Eskel murmurs. “He's been good. Both of you. Give him what he wants." Eskel grins. 

Chapter 19: The Dragon Wolf, Warlord of the North

Notes:

Thank you all so much for encouraging me with comments and kudos.
I hope you enjoy this last chapter as well.

This time it takes a lot of effort for the Witchers to prepare properly. They did send a request to Ban Ard in order to stay civil but as expected, they got a refusal and even threats. Mages, in general, Ban Ard's mages in particular are feeling like the superior breeds and consider that witchers were born thanks to them and so they won't be threatened. They also haven't seen Eskel in action in Sodden so they don't care and realize the danger they put themselves in. Not that they think a witcher or anyone can be a danger to them. Istreed had warned them. Thankfully, he's not like them at all. He considers himself of Kaer Morhen now, like all the mages who have decided to find another purpose, another way.

The Council knows they can’t attack a mage’s fortress like they do a King’s castle with only one court mage in attendance. They can't rely only on speed to surprise their opponents. They need more training in signs because they will need them more than in just a sword battle. Eskel, many Griffins and any witcher good with signs, sneaky or far ranged, train together to make a perfectly coordinated army to be able to take down Ban Ard.

When they are ready, the chosen Witchers gather in the courtyard to take a portal to their destination. That’s a fight Eskel is happy to make because he knows Stregobor used and hurt Geralt amidst all his other deeds. It’s a kill he won’t mind making. Eskel is watching over the huge group and notices little Lisa of the Cats with Dragonfly by her side. She is under her tutelage and weirdly Eskel has noticed how Livi seems to be half her clan’s parent with Dragonfly. 

“You will come back, right?” Ciri says, worried to see her guardians and friends leave her.

“Yes, Ciri.” Geralt promises again. “I need you to help Vesemir watch over Kaer Morhen.”

“I will.” She swears. 

“Good.” Geralt ruffles her hair. 

Milena and Sasha wish Lambert and Aiden luck before they try to offer comfort to Ciri as they watch them go.

The army united again under the banner of the Dragon Wolf is ready for battle. Yennefer and Istreed open portals near Ban Ard. The academy of magic is situated outside the city walls. The location was chosen so it would be easier to study the ruins of an ancient elven tomb in the forest's depths. The abandoned elven palace is surrounded by trees, hidden away for security while the mystery gives it prestige. Istreed knowing the way helps them to get to the entrance. Eskel can see one tower being more prominent than the others. 

Eskel marches to Ban Ard’s entrance with the pace of someone who’s unhurried and in total control of his own self. It’s disconcerting because Lisa is fretting, after all this time and the few years of training, she will get her brother back because her leader has taken her wish into account when he has decided to punish the mage who has become a monster.  

“Leave, witcher!”

“I will leave with Stregobor's head for harming those under my watch or with Ban Ard’s ashes behind me. I do not care which. Both suit me fine.” Eskel drawls out.

“As if your kind could enter our tower!”

“Hm.” Eskel hums and grins so widely his teeth show and his scars pull his lips even higher in a kind of grimace that makes him look like an enraged beast.

He casts an Aard and it rebounds and Stretogor huffs from above. Eskel wants to roll his eyes at this. He casts a second Aard, more powerful as if he’s testing how much he needs to call his chaos to make the doors move. Yennefer and Istreed watch but won't intervene. It's a show to the mages. This second attempt makes the shield tremble and a few mages look a little alarmed. Not so confident anymore. The third one - oh, the third one crashes through the shield and blasts the doors from their hinge. They fly and fall in a loud boom into the floor, the woods splitters everywhere and Eskel doesn’t wait a second to cast an Igni to set every stick ablaze. The fire takes everything it can, eating away any dry combustible. Witchers cheer and get ready. The sound is loud, reasoning and echoing into the foundation of the place.

“Ashes it is.” Eskel bellows. “Or give me Stregobor!”

When the fight starts, it’s messy. The entrance is a little small so Istreed, Yennefer and some Griffins have to make a shield so all the witchers can enter. Then they split into smaller groups to make the mages surrender or die. Eskel is staying in full view of anyone as a taunt and is trying to make Stregobor come to him.

Jaskier is also having fun making nature answer his call. He’s using his lute to channel his magic as advised by Yenna when she trained him if he wanted to be allowed to come with them. She can’t watch over him but Aubry, Idwin and Galen are staying near him to make sure nothing can touch him. They all would have sworn even though it’s very fleeting that seven Beasts are by Jaskier’s side the whole time, guarding him and them by extension. They are like fumes, moving faster than a spell and blocking the mages from hurting them too much. A huge shadow there, flaps of wings here, roars, and hisses, invisible forces helping them, noticed and acknowledged but never truly visible. 

“Leo!” Lisa yells when she sees her brother. Dragonfly curses when her charge just goes in one direction without thinking. A small thing jumps near her and deflects a red spark. Dragonfly could swear, green eyes blink at her in a condescending way. Fucking hell. What was that?

“Lisa!” Said Leo yells back and runs to her.

“You’re alive.” They both say and hug each other. “You’re a witcher.”

“And you’re a mage. Your point?”

“Sister.” Leonard whispers and just hugs her tighter.

“Brother.” She murmurs back.

“My friend, Mick, he’s part dragon, he’s been used for studies. You have to help him.”

“I’m not leaving without you, I’m sure our mages would teach you all you need to know and your friend would be welcome in the Wolflands.” Lisa explains.

“Brother Leonard.” Konrad says.

“Yes?”

“I’m Konrad, a brother in arms to your sister which makes you ours.” He grins.

“I’m Roland, a pleasure, young mage in training.” He bows. “We are also trainees and brothers to your sister.”

“Nice to meet you.” Leo says absentmindedly, a little lost to have those two young men claim him so suddenly. His sister snickers amused, he glares but the effect is lost when she laughs.

Coën looks at Dragonfly and Serrit who turns to look at Gweld who sighs dramatically. "I guess we have a rescuing mission to do." They rescue the poor teenager who looks half starved and badly hurt. Leonard immediately rushes to his side and the quarter dragon leans onto him in relief.

*

During the battle, Yennefer ends at Geralt’s back and they cuts through the mages’ place easily and cuffs who is willing to give up to live and make them sit on a room that is soon guard by other witchers, Auckes and Letho are delighted to stand watch and play with their preys to see if one would piss themselves.

While Gweld is playing hero somewhere else, Lambert is guarding Eskel's back and keeping watch on the surrendered mages that are staying in the courtyard because witchers prefer them to be split in different places.

Jaskier, on the other hand, has found a good spot to watch the death of a well deserve monster, the one who haunted the Shrike and was responsible for her descent to madness and death, the one who made Geralt into a butcher when the witcher was anything but, the one that helped Temeria and Nilfgaard so he could keep his playground, the one that helped Gustavus with experimenting on witchers to recreate them. Jaskier does not enjoy death but this one, oh, this one he will enjoy, knowing he will be safer at night. Knowing this man will never be able to hurt another soul. 

*

Eskel and Stretogor are exchanging fireballs, using shields and every trick they have to take the other down. It’s a terrifying sight to watch a witcher battles a mage with chaos. All the mages have more or less surrendered to look at the spectacle. They realize quickly that they are outnumbered and that the chance of Stregobor winning gets slimmer and slimmer as time flies.  And they wish to keep their heads on their shoulders so perhaps surrender is the only solution left. Eskel shows no signs of fatigue and moves swiftly to counter Stregobor who hurls curses to the Warlord, spitting hateful words in his wake.

In the end, it’s a massive wolf, all white but for its blond belly and half his face because it is made of bones, eyes like molten lava, who jumps onto Stretogor’s back. The mage falls forward, the beast is made of chaos and love, belief and fealty, it is born of songs and prayers and so whatever tricks Stregobor used are gone, both the illusion of his hands are gone and every scars he has are visible. He is barred for his last breaths. 

“You will pay for this.” He still spats.

“No.” Eskel says, glare in full effect. “You are paying for all your sins.”

His companion snarls and bites hard on the man’s neck, his sharp canine entering the flesh like butter and he cuts the throat. The blood spills on the floor as the Wolf Spirit mauled the man until he stops twitching, dead. Eskel nods to the Spirit who trots back to him.

“Anyone else?” Eskel asks.

“No, Warlord. You have what you came to take.” An old man says, breathing hard, terrified. “What guarantee do we have that we won't be the next?”

“Don’t become monsters.” Eskel says. “And if you do. I may not know as soon as you become one, but the Witchers’ Spirit will and then we will come.”

The Wolf Spirit howls, strong and long in agreement, an omen and the witchers scatter around howl in answer. Eskel smirks.

Jaskier hums from where he’s surveying the whole scene and then sings proudly: 

“Behold the Dragon, his Salamander and Dragonnet

Impervious to fire they resist corruption.

They protect the defenseless fiercer than one would his hoard 

So if you break your oath and come to be a monster,” 

The whole assembly choruses with him as one, thunderous: 

“ Beware of the Dragon Wolf .”

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 10 of The Witchers Pack And Their Lark
• Part 5 of What If
• Part 1 of The Dragon Wolf, Warlord of the North