Chapter Text
It’d been a hard night and week following the conversation with Vesemir, Geralt had been noticeably lethargic, Jaskier might even say languishing if it were anyone more emotional than his witcher. It was starting to get better, slowly, and something about the experience had made Geralt more clingy than before, but it felt like they had hit a wall in Geralt’s recovery, like Jaskier’s presence was helping but there was also something missing.
Of course, Jaskier would never complain about the increase in physical affection from Geralt; though he wondered at what changed in him, he indulged in Geralt’s soft touches on the small of his back, back of his neck, his shoulders… In private, Geralt even leaned on him, sitting next to him and putting his head on his shoulder and even though there’s no way for either of them to use the excuse that they need to snuggle up for warmth they still continue to do so, and unlike when they previously shared beds in inns, Geralt doesn’t keep his distance anymore. In fact, he could be described as positively cuddly. Despite all this affection, however, Jaskier could tell (from all the years he’d observed Geralt keeping basically all of his personality back) that Geralt hadn’t yet fully opened up to him. Not that he could bring himself to resent that, of course, he figured either it would come slowly or it wouldn’t ever come at all, but either way, he had more of Geralt than ever.
The evidence that something was missing, and the realisation of what that was, occurred two weeks into their stay at the kaer. The weather was finally shifting towards a winter chill, the frost lingering longer than just the night and morning until the sun hit it and turned it to dew. Jaskier rejoices in the fact that they had gotten here so early, this is normally the point in the year where Geralt begins to mutter about leaving him to his winter plans, or perhaps, when this weather reaches the plains below the mountain in a week or so. With how quickly their outpost freezes, he thinks Geralt may have been delaying their parting to the absolute latest for the past several years because he knows this keep eventually gets snowed in; a thought which warms him to his bones in a way the sun beaming down upon them cannot do. It can only brighten the puff of steam from his mouth as he stands in the courtyard of the castle watching Geralt train.
He turns to look towards the gate as the creaking of rusted metal and wood alerts him to its opening. A massive man enters, though that’s hardly uncommon in these parts, and Jaskier turns his gaze back to his favourite subject, until he hears the newcomer’s booming voice, that is.
“Geralt! You’re earlier than you normally are! No wonder there were no contracts left for me on the way.” The large man grabs Geralt by the shoulder to pull him into an embrace, which amazingly, Geralt allows himself to be pulled into.
Ah… The missing element, obviously, from the way Geralt seems to melt into the embrace. Jaskier takes in the man’s appearance. He is broad, slightly more than Geralt, in fact, with brown hair so dark that Jaskier would probably have mistaken it for black if the sun weren’t shining directly on it. He is handsome, too, and though a shallower person would think his appearance marred by the scar running down just missing his eye from his temple to the corner of his mouth, which makes him seem as if he is smirking or smiling when his face is in fact neutral, Jaskier thinks it only makes him more rugged, and he is stricken by this man in a way he never was before or since meeting Geralt. He can see the moment where what was joy at reuniting with Geralt earlier than usual turns into confusion and concern as he realises there is something different this year, especially as he takes in Jaskier’s presence.
In an attempt to relax this new acquaintance Jaskier adopts his silliest facade and performs his most ostentatious bow, swirling his hand in the air for a couple of rounds as he bends at the waist.
“Jaskier the bard at your service!”
There is a tightening around the witcher’s eyes as his confusion seems to deepen, but whatever he was about to say is interrupted by Geralt, who seems to have used Jaskier’s ridiculousness to recover.
“Jask…” Anyone who knew Geralt as well as he did would be able to tell that his put upon tone was an attempt to hide the fondness in his eyes. Evidently, from the newcomer’s confusion now directed at Geralt, the attempt is unsuccessful.
“This is Eskel, my brother in arms. He completed his training at the same time as I did.”
This introduction had caused Eskel to replace his confused look with a mischievous understanding. What Eskel had understood about Geralt, Jaskier couldn’t place, but he seemed to have decided something in that moment.
Before he could voice whatever he was thinking, however, Geralt turned to him and addressed him, his serious expression removing the levity from the conversation, “Eskel, there’s something I need to discuss with you… and I need your help.”
—
Unlike with Vesemir, it seems Geralt did not need Jaskier’s help to explain the situation to Eskel. Though his witcher evidently trusted his mentor, there was a closeness to his relationship with Eskel that he could never have with a father figure, a closeness not quite sibling-like, but one born of a long-standing closeness and devotion that led to them almost not needing words to communicate.
They were able to exchange greetings and a conversation Jaskier supposes is probably about him due to the furtive glances Eskel was sending him as they all walked towards his and Geralt’s room, however, the real topic of the conversation wasn’t a topic that could be discussed non-verbally. This was evidenced by Geralt beginning to speak once they had reached their destination.
“Eskel… Have you ever encountered a human monster?”
Jaskier supposes Geralt didn’t want or need his tact to have this conversation with his brother in arms, but he still winces at the bluntness of the statement. He refuses to intervene however, if Geralt needed his help, he would have asked.
The way Eskel reacts to Geralt recounting the rest of their encounter with Zofia tells Jaskier that he does, in fact, prefer Geralt’s directness on the subject, as he remains calm, with a barely perceptible anger mounting, as Geralt shows his own fury at the situation, a furor which finally explodes in both witchers when Geralt reveals the identity of the monster.
Eskel grasps Geralt by his forearms and leans his forehead against his, both of them breathing simultaneously, calming in each others’ arms, before he answers, “of course I’ll help you, Wolf.”
It is now that Jaskier finally understands why Geralt had invited him: the witcher trusts him to explain to people who he would never dare show this much emotion to why he needs to attack the King of Kaedwen, as Eskel is the only other person apart from Jaskier himself he would ever let see him in this state.
That realisation strikes him in the chest as he looks on to the sweet scene in front of him of the two witchers with their eyes closed, forehead to forehead, arm in arm. Jaskier has the fleeting notion that he should feel jealous of not being in that position, being in love with Geralt as he is, but for some reason he feels none of that particular emotion in the moment.
Another realisation hits him then, too, now that he’s had the quiet to process it, and he rushes to tackle Geralt, “wait just a second! Everyone calls you ‘Wolf’ and yet you objected to me giving you the ‘White Wolf’ nickname!?”
Geralt, and an Eskel who hadn’t moved out of the way despite a flying bard, catches him, and suddenly they’re all laughing hysterically; despite current events, Jaskier thinks life is pretty good.