Chapter Text
“ No.”
The word hurt more than he could’ve imagined. Perhaps it was the nature of the events that had led to the moment. Or perhaps it was the sheer exhaustion he felt from days of travelling and dealing with Ciri’s scorn without end.
The result was he was absolutely exhausted. And devastated. And numb.
He felt shakey. And a little lightheaded. And not at all as confident as he normally was.
So Jaskier decided to do the only logical thing he could think of. And that was to disappear into his room for as long as possible.
Maybe even longer.
“Hey bard! You coming!? Geralt keeps asking for you!”
With a groan, Jaskier rolled over and covered his head under the furs. What god-damned heathen would wake up so early-?
“Bard? Did you hear me? Geralt wants you downstairs! For breakfast! Says he won’t start until you get up!”
“Just carry on without me!” Jaskier snapped and wrapped the furs around himself tighter. He’d had enough of foolish Witchers, including Geralt.
“Get up Bard! We don’t have all day and I’m not gonna piss around waiting for you to get up, just because Geralt can’t get his shit together!”
“Just tell him I’m sick!” Jaskier yelled back from under the sheets and waited desperately for Lambert to leave. The asshole was blatantly not fond of him and it had been obvious from the start. In fact, none of the witchers were fond of him.
And Geralt had barely looked at him since the incident with Voleth Meir. Which was nothing new.
“Bard!” Fists pounded against the door. “Get your arse out of there and come down! I ain’t telling your alpha for you, come out and tell him yourself!”
“Not my alpha!”
It was a common misconception. Because he was a small omega bard who spent most of his days with a burly strong alpha, he was often mistaken as the alpha's bonded. Many of his patrons had often asked him what it was like to be the bonded of the White Wolf and with shame on his cheeks, he would stand and confess that he was not Geralt’s and had never been. And never would be for he had eyes on an alpha mage. Although Yennefer was not cruel to him anymore and seemed equally protective in her own way. She didn’t seem overly intimate with Geralt anymore.
But the continuous reminder of being second had hurt. It always had.
“Bard!”
With a scowl, Jaskier ripped the furs off his body and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He’d teach the stupid alpha a lesson and then go back to bed and-
The door swung open. And in walked Geralt.
Jaskier blinked and felt the wind leave his sails. What on earth was Geralt doing here?
“Jaskier.” Geralt said and walked up to him until he was standing directly above Jaskier, much like an alpha gearing to fight. Or an alpha gearing to take hold of his omega, should a fight occur. Jaskier shivered and looked at Geralt’s feet.
“Geralt-“
“You said to Lambert that you’re sick. How long have you been feeling ill?” Geralt asked and Jaskier couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Trust Geralt to arrive at the worst possible moments.
“You know, it’s rude to eavesdrop.” Jaskier huffed and folded his arms. “And don’t you have other things to do?”
Geralt went quiet for a moment. His eyes remained fixed on Jaskier.
“If you’re ill, you should tell me.”
With a huff, Jaskier threw up his hands with the appropriate amount of flare. “I’m not! I just said it to get rid of Lambert.”
And you.
“Hmm.” Geralt frowned and inclined his head, much like the image of a wolf. “But you don’t seem well.”
“Sorry, what? I beg your pardon?”
“You smell different. Tired. But still sweet.” Geralt sniffed, not so subtly and knelt down by his feet. Jaskier couldn’t help shiver again when Geralt gripped each of his wrists with both hands and turned them over. Slowly, he brought them up to his nose and scented them gently.
Heat began to rise on Jaskier’s cheeks. Behind Geralt, Lambert was stood at the door, watching with a smirk. He gave a small wink when Jaskier made eye contact.
Ah shit.
“Geralt, there’s no need to-“
“I’m right. There is something different about you.” Geralt nodded resolutely and stood up, using his hold to pull Jaskier up with him. “We should see Vesemir.”
With a sigh, Jaskier shook his head and slipped his hands out of Geralt’s hold. He didn’t miss the way Geralt’s gold eyes dimmed at the movement, though he couldn’t really understand why Geralt was looking at him like that. They weren’t close anymore.
“I’m fine Geralt. I’m just not hungry. Probably a bit tired or something.”
“Come with me.”
“No, Geralt I just said-“
“You’ve been skipping breakfast for the last three mornings. And you barely eat at lunch. In fact, even last night you barely ate.” Geralt said, growing angrier with each word and slipped a hand around his waist, using the grip to urge Jaskier forward. “If you won’t see Vesemir, you’ll eat at least.”
The manhandling didn’t stop, despite Jaskier’s protests which were met with a glare and a nudge forward. But as embarrassing as it was (and the fact that Lambert kept snickering behind them), Jaskier couldn’t find it in himself to be truly angry. Geralt was clearly trying to be kind, in his own, rather Geralt-like way.
Even if they were barely friends anymore. Even if Geralt had wished him away.
Even if Geralt was tired of him. Wanted him gone.
What is with him today? We barely speak for months and all of a sudden, he's barging into my room and taking me away? What is wrong with him?
It wasn't that they hadn't been completely on non-speaking terms. It was just that their dynamic had changed, that was all. Jaskier had made sure-since Geralt's words on the mountain, he'd tried his level best to avoid the gruff Witcher, ensuring he would not make noise or hover around him or be a general nuisance as he had been for so long. In one way he was even grateful that Geralt had told him.
He'd never understood before then, how misguided he'd been. He'd thought he'd found a friend in the alpha. Instead, he'd been a burden. A drain. A blight in Geralt's life.
But he was better now. Improving. Even Geralt had noticed, given how much he had been watching Jaskier since the events of Voleth Meir. Jaskier had been able to feel his gaze, even when they hadn't been nearby to each other. On some days, it even felt as if the Witcher was only staring at him. And no one else.
When they arrived at the dining hall, the fire was heating the room pleasantly, and Coen, Eskel and Vesemir were sat on one table, while Yennefer and Ciri were sat on another. The bronze pot of steaming soup and a plate of fresh bread slices were resting by the centre table near the fire. Overall, the room seemed warm and welcoming, with little animosity. It seemed things had calmed somewhat since the incident that had occurred two weeks before, although Jaskier could still see how the weight of their families' losses continued to sit on the shoulders of the Witchers before him. He doubted they’d appreciate any attempt from him to lighten the mood with music.
“Jaskier.” Geralt squeezed him lightly around the waist and guided him towards Yennefer and Ciri. “Sit. I’ll bring you food.”
Heat flooded his cheeks as he felt Geralt’s hand slip from him and as he looked around, Jaskier tried not to say a sharp remark at Lamberts kissing noises in the background.
Melitelle, if the alpha didn’t watch himself, Jaskier would make sure to teach him a lesson at some point. Lambert was starting to drive him crazy.
“Don’t. Geralt’s gonna talk to him.” Yennefer said, and when he turned to look at her, he noticed a smirk in her eyes.
“Please, my dear lady, I don’t need anyone to help me deal with that.” Jaskier pointed out, taking a seat opposite Ciri and Yennefer. “I can handle myself.”
“I think it’s romantic.” Ciri sighed blissfully and to Jaskier’s complete surprise, rested her cheeks in both hands and leaned forward. “I’ve always wanted to see an alpha protect his omega.”
Jaskier blinked. Then his lips parted but no words came out.
He didn’t know what to say.
“Ciri, omegas and alphas are equal. You know that, you saw your grandmother-“
“She was a fierce omega. But she never let anyone see Eist looking after her. She said she couldn’t afford to risk being seen like that. But Jaskier doesn’t have that. There are stories about Jaskier and Geralt all over the continent.” Ciri smiled dreamily and turned back to him. “Are all the rumours true then? You’re Geralt’s omega? Is it true?”
“Ciri.” Yennefer said firmly, with a sharp expression, clearly not happy with the conversation at hand. Though the little lioness seemed undeterred.
“I’m not saying anything wrong! Plus Geralt didn’t answer me, but he didn’t deny it when I asked earlier either! And they’ve been together for years so doesn’t that make them bonded mates anyway? By law.”
The words jerked Jaskier out of his daze. Quickly, he snapped his mouth shut and turned towards her.
“What do you mean? When did you ask Geralt?” The words left his lips before he could stop himself.
“I asked him on the way here.” Ciri replied casually, as if they were discussing the supply of hay for Roach. A mundane, unimportant subject as opposed to the most important thing Jaskier had ever heard.
Jaskier watched, fixated as Ciri dipped her spoon into the soup and took a sip. “I asked if you were his partner. He said he’s been with you for years but when I asked him if you were bonded, he went quiet.”
“Was that…” Jaskier paused and closed his mouth swiftly, wondering if Geralt had ever thought about it.
He said I was his partner?
“I don’t think Geralt’s ever seen me that way.” He said distantly, staring at the table with an unseeing gaze. Geralt had never…behaved like he acknowledged their second genders. He’d never said anything about the fact that they were an alpha and omega, travelling together in the wilderness. Sure he took care of Geralt in some ways that omegas would traditionally be known to do, but it had never felt like that. He’d never done it out of duty, he’d only ever done it out of choice. Taking care of Geralt after a contract, washing and bathing him and keeping their supplies stocked. Mending their clothes and helping them stay at inns. All things he took pride in doing. And all things Geralt had reciprocated in some way, shape or form. It had never been about being an omega or alpha.
And he’d never had a heat when travelling with Geralt. He’d been on suppressants for years. So they certainly weren't bonded.
“Jask.”
Geralt’s voice jolted him out of his thoughts. When he looked up, Geralt was holding two plates with bread and a wooden bowl of soup. He seemed to be looking at him curiously.
“Your food. Eat.” Geralt placed the plate in front of him and sat beside him, staring at him until he reached out and took the bread in hand. Staring back at Geralt, he raised his brow and dipped the bread in the soup.
“Geralt. How…how are you?” He asked and winced at what had probably just been the poorest attempt at conversation in his life. But who was he kidding, Ciri had just told him-
“I’m…fine, Jaskier.” Geralt replied slowly and seemed took a moment to process the question before taking a big bite out of his bread. “You need to eat.”
Typical.
With a huff, Jaskier rolled his eyes and brought the bread up to his lips. “You said that already.”
Geralt’s eyes narrowed. “And I meant it.”
Undeterred, Jaskier took a slow, deliberate bite under Geralt’s watch and chewed. Once he swallowed, he presented the bread up for all to see. Geralt gave him a glare in response.
“Boys, enough. Can’t you see we have to set an example for our young alpha princess in the making?”
Jaskier turned and looked at Ciri and noted Geralt doing the same. Only the young princess was looking at them smugly, arms crossed and resting casually against her seat.
“You remind me of my Grandmother and Eist. And Yennefer is Moussack.”
While Yennefer and Ciri began to giggle amongst themselves, Jaskier felt his stomach stir. The sensation made his palms sweat.
“We’re not like that…” Jaskier murmered, looking down at his palms in his lap. They were shaking a little. “We’ve never been like that.”
He could feel Geralt’s stare. It was like having the full force of the sun’s rays. His gaze was searing and felt like it exposed him. It was the gaze he’d seen when Geralt was focusing on something important.
His mouth went dry and his stomach clenched. And still, Geralt was staring.
“Jaskier? Are you alright?” Geralt asked and for a moment, Jaskier couldn’t understand why it seemed like Geralt was…worried. That tone wasn’t usually taken with him.
“Can I ask…Ciri said she…” Jaskier curled his fingers in and squeezed his hands into fists, feeling grateful for the sensation.
Taking a deep breath, he turned to Geralt, food forgotten.
“Has anyone ever mentioned how we were always this…alpha and omega travelling together?”
Geralt’s golden eyes narrowed, much like when he was inspecting a monster track. He looked at Jaskier carefully. His lips were pressed into a thin line, almost like he didn’t wish to speak.
“Yes.”
“Right. And have you ever…”
“What?”
“Has anyone ever…asked if we are bonded?” Jaskier rushed out and felt sweat begin to bead on the sides of his temples.
Melitelle, why had Ciri’s words affected him so much?
For a moment Geralt just looked at him. Then his expression morphed into a mask, carefully schooled into a neutral expression that gave nothing away. Jaskier could only imagine what was going on in his mind.
Maybe he thinks I’m a fool. Maybe he thinks it’s an awful thing to be asked. Maybe he finds the idea repulsive and knows it’s a waste of time.
“Yes. Many times.”
Jaskier swivelled round at him in shock. His eyes went wide.
“You’ve been asked that before?”
“I don’t see how it matters.” Geralt said tiredly, eyes somewhat dim, like the words didn’t please him. “We’re well past that point, aren’t we?”
Whatever words Jaskier had been about to say, died on his lips at that. It felt like his heart had been drained of its energy.
“Why is it that whenever I find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you, shovelling it!?”
“Yeah, no. Of course. I understand.” Jaskier said with a smile that felt weak, even to him. “I didn’t mean to be difficult. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologise to me.” Geralt said firmly, though he looked decidedly unhappy now. The downturn of his lips and the furrow in his brow said it all. “I know being here has…not been easy for you.”
There wasn’t much he could say to that. Strange since he didn’t usually run out of words. He was usually so full of life and chatter but now…
Not even a proper bard. Useless.
His eyes began to water and a headache began to form. Taking a slow breath, he raised his hand and leaned his head in it. Keeping his head down, he closed his eyes and tried to press away the feeling.
“Jask? You okay?”
“Hey Geralt, what’s up with your bard? He’s stinking up the place.”
“Jaskier?”
“M’fine.” He mumbled and opened his eyes blearily, staring at the wooden swirls on the table. All of a sudden, he felt a little queezy, like he’d just been on a journey to Skellige. And the feeling wasn’t really resolving, not that he’d ever admit it to Geralt.
Shadows were covering him and he could feel Geralt’s hand rubbing gently on his back. Words continued to be said.
“Geralt, there’s something wrong here, he’s clearly not well.” Eskel said gently, and Geralt continued to rub his back in slow soothing circles.
“Jaskier, are you alright?” Yen asked though she sounded genuinely concerned. It was a little unnerving to say the least.
He shook his head. His lips refused to move for more than a few breaths.
"What the fuck!? He was fine just a second ago!"
"Lambert, shut up. He's obviously struggling, give him a minute."
“Let’s sit him up. Jask.”
With eyes half-lidded, Jaskier let his body follow the motions as Geralt sat him back upright for everyone to see. And whatever they saw was clearly not good given the way they all suddenly paled.
“He’s paler than a Noonwraith. He looks like he’s gonna be sick.” Lambert noted and before Jaskier could even turn to glare, a gasp escaped his lips.
Oh gods. What was that?
His stomach rebelled again and a cramp seized grip of him from the inside, almost as if some small monster was trying to escape from within him. The sensation stole his breath and instantly his hand shot to his stomach.
His hand shook as he looked down at his stomach in shock. What in Melitelle’s name was that?!
“Geralt…” Jaskier whispered and to his horror, felt tears begin to gather in his eyes. He was scared, that had never happened before.
“Shhh, it’s alright, just take nice deep breaths.” Geralt commanded, and took hold of something Eskel had offered him. A cup of water.
“Have a sip.”
Under Geralt’s guidance and the attention of over half of the keep, Jaskier drank some water from the cup and carefully set it down. His hands still shook and his skin felt like fire and ice. He could feel his pulse thrumming in his ears, blood racing.
“I don’t feel so good.” He said faintly, blinking dots out of his eyes. His heart began to pound, like a death sentence beating louder and louder.
“Geralt, his heart-“
“I know.” Geralt snapped, shockingly to his own brother, though Jaskier barely had time to comment before another sharp cramp pierced through him.
This time, tears did squeeze out of his eyes. A small cry left his lips as a third cramp took over.
“I-it hurts…” He stammered through grit teeth and doubled over, nearly hitting the table from how sharp the pains were.
“F-Fuck, I think I’m dying-AHHH!”
The final cramp slammed into him like a tidal wave, destroying everything in its path, including his dignity and his voice as he screamed.
And his vision. It went grey.
His eyes fell shut as everything grew dark. And around him, he heard voices. It all sounded distant.
“JASKIER!”
“Eskel, get Vesemir! He’s in the labs!”
“I think I know what’s wrong-“
“Jask, fuck, open your eyes!”
That was Geralt. He sounded like he was scared too. How he longed to open his eyes and reassure him. Sadly, he could only manage to lift a hand instead.
“M’fine…” He mumbled, though his body shook. He could barely hear anything now.
But the hands around him. They lifted him up and pulled him in, looping around him until he was being carried against someone’s chest. Geralt’s.
That scent…
“Hold on, Jask, you’re gonna be okay.”
He smells so good…
“Where’s Vesemir!?”
He smells like…Alpha…
Letting himself drift, he fell into the delicious scent of his alpha. He was safe, his alpha was here.
Alpha…my alpha….
When Jaskier came to, he realised he was lying on something soft and covered in something warm. When he finally managed to open his eyes, shapes slowly began to form one after the other. Everything seemed dim, like the world had been shrouded in shadows. Candles in the corners of the large arching room, bathed it in warm evening light.
The sun had set. He’d lost time.
The shapes began to move and when Jaskier blinked a few times, they soon began to reveal themselves. Familiar faces stood above his bed.
Vesemir and Yennefer were standing above him, talking amongst themselves. When he shifted somewhat, they both locked onto him. The glow of each pair of eyes momentarily caught him off guard.
“Bard. Are you with us now?” Vesemir asked in a low voice and pressed his palm against Jaskier’s forehead gently. With a soft sigh, Jaskier lifted his hand up from under the furs and lay it across his waist. Thankfully, his stomach felt much better. But still…
His lower belly felt tender. Almost like he’d been hit and was still feeling the residual ache.
Taking stock of himself, he shifted each limb slowly and nodded. After pausing for a full minute, he let out a sigh of relief.
The cramping had definitely stopped. Thank the gods.
“Wh’re am I?” He asked, feeling like his throat was full of razors. Like he’d sung all night. Or screamed in agony. He felt covered in cold sweat, like he’d run a race against Roach.
“You’re in the labs.” Vesemir explained, taking a bottle filled with a clear liquid from Yennefer’s outstretched hand. He began to shake the bottle firmly.
“What happened to me?” He asked, watching the liquid swirl in the bottle. “Am I sick?”
Am I dying?
“You’re okay. You’re safe.” Geralt suddenly pitched in from behind him, and when Jaskier tipped his head back, he noticed Geralt crushing something into a sludge with a mortar and pestle. “Nothing will hurt you. We’ve made some supplies.”
Jaskier watched him work vigorously at the mortar, the movement of his arms hypnotising. For a brief moment, their eyes met.
The alpha paused for a moment and tilted his head. Then something softened in Geralt’s eyes.
“You’re okay.” Geralt repeated again, going back to his work. On his work bench, there were at least four bottles of clear liquid corked and ready, with a fifth being brewed.
“Thank you.” Jaskier whispered, breathing out a sigh of relief at feeling Geralt’s presence. Even from where he was laying, he could catch traces of Geralt’s scent in the air.
It was strong-unusually strong. The scent of leather and grass, mixed with hay and bread, strange as it seemed. Geralt had always smelt of warmth and home but at this moment…
Geralt’s scent seemed much stronger than usual. It was bizarre.
He took a deep breath in and felt a smile stretch across his face. The ache in his belly felt somewhat soothed and for a moment, he felt a huge surge of happiness. He’d found a help for his mystery illness and he couldn’t stop his body from melting into the bed. Geralt smelt so good!
“Ah. You’ve found your alpha, hmm?” Vesemir murmured and instantly Jaskier froze and looked back. Vesemir gave him a knowing smile.
“It’s alright. It’s normal, pup. And not your fault in any way.”
“What? What’s not my fault?” Jaskier swallowed and watched Vesemir uncork the bottle. And slowly, he pushed himself up when Vesemir offered it to him. He was pleased to note that someone had thankfully removed his red coat and leather boots. The fur in his lap was also very soft against his flushed skin.
Once he’d taken the potion, he handed the glass bottle back and nodded in thanks. It felt cool on his tongue and continued down his throat until it soothed his belly further.
“It’s okay pup. We look after our own and we won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Thank you.” He murmured, unsure of what he’d done to deserve such kindness. He’d never seen himself as part of the group and yet, here he was, being tended to in the same room and with the same level of care as some of the other Witchers had been.
Like a pack…as odd as the thought was. Like family.
“These potions are to help sooth you during this time. They’re not harmful but you may feel somewhat drowsy after. Geralt will take you to your bedroom shortly.”
“What’s wrong with me?”
His heart began to speed up when Vesemir pursed his lips. The old Witcher suddenly appeared closer to his age. And the reluctance to answer didn’t exactly bode well.
“You’re in heat, Jaskier.” Yennefer finally said after the silence in the room grew tense. And instantly Jaskier’s heart went from a steady increase to racing.
“You mean I’m-heat!?”
It wasn’t possible. He’d been taking suppressants on time without fail since he’d turned fifteen, and even more at an exact time of the day since he’d met Geralt. He’d never wanted to make anyone, Geralt or otherwise uncomfortable.
Nor had he wanted to risk being mated to someone without his consent. The biggest fear for an omega in any setting.
“I can’t…” His hands shook as he pressed his palm to his belly. His mouth went dry. “I can’t be in heat.”
“Pre-heat. It’ll set in soon.” Vesemir murmered from beside one of the benches. He returned to Jaskier’s side with a soaked cloth in his hand, the size of his palm.
“May I?”
Jaskier nodded and released a sigh when Vesemir pressed the cloth against his neck. The dampness of it was heaven against his skin and his eyes fluttered shut as a wave of heat washed over him.
He could feel it now. The waves were there, buzzing under his skin and washing over him and bringing with it the reminder of what would soon begin.
“I’m in heat. Pre-heat.” He said, eyes closed and mind adrift. What options did he have?
“Can you knock me out?” He asked bleakly, squeezing his eyes tight against the sharp contractions of his body. The pain pulsed through him briefly before settling but Melitelle did it hurt.
“We can’t, lad. I’m sorry.” Vesemir said, sounding genuinely remorseful. “We can’t put you out either. It could cause you to have repeated cycles at inconsistent times. The safest and healthiest option for you would be to allow this to happen here where you can be comfortable and protected. Then we can look into why this happened.”
“I need to lie down.” Jaskier whispered and blew out a shaky breath before lowering himself back down. To his frustration, his arm shook as he lay flat on his back. He blinked at the ceiling a few times.
“So I have to go through this agony for days? Is that my only option?”
“There’s another option.” Yennefer said and came around to face him. “You’re an omega going into heat in a keep full of Witchers. You have options.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, there are alphas here. Sterile alphas. You can have any one of them accompany you through your heat. Even…” Yennefer looked at Jaskier thoughtfully. Then she tilted her head and sat beside him on the bed.
“I could accompany you. I’d look after you. Make sure you’re taken care of. I wouldn’t leave you wanting, I promise.” Yennefer offered gently and in a shocking show of care, reached out and cupped his cheek, much like an alpha would do to their bonded.
There was a creak behind them. Then the sound of wood splinting.
“Geralt! What on earth are you doing!?” Vesemir shouted and instantly stormed over to whatever the scene was. Jaskier couldn’t see behind him, but he could tell Yennefer was concerned, given the way she was staring at whatever was going on.
Whatever was going on, seemed to calm because she shook her head and turned back to him, expression soft. The pad of her thumb rubbed soothingly over his cheek.
“You’re important Jaskier. I won’t see you in pain.” She said and Jaskier nuzzled into her palm gratefully. He appreciated the offer, even if it wasn’t his first choice. But then again, his first choice would never be an option for him. It hadn’t been for twenty years.
“I’d be honoured to spend my heat with you.” Jaskier agreed and turned to press a kiss to her palm. Their eyes met as he looked at the alpha in depth.
She was beautiful and fierce in every way. Any omega would be lucky to have her. The fact that she was willing to look after him was a huge compliment, and something he’d never pictured he’d have. He truly was honoured.
“Enough, mage. He’s not happy.” Vesemir cut through from where he was working and Jaskier frowned. Of course he was. Why wouldn’t he be?
“He’s not scenting right. You’re not his alpha. This isn’t what he wants.”
“Then what does he want?” Yennefer snapped back, expression livid. “To be in agony for the next few days? To be left alone with no one to hold him? To feel abandoned while we watch from the distance? Jaskier doesn’t deserve that!”
“It’s not what he wants.”
“He said yes-!”
“You’re not the alpha he wants.” Vesemir finally clarified and the wind knocked out of Yennefer. Looking like she’d been slapped, she turned to Jaskier. Then she looked up behind him, expression pinched.
“Where’s Geralt?”
“I’ve sent him away. He would’ve broken the potions if he’d stayed.”
“I’m going to talk to him.” Yennefer sighed and climbed off the bed. As she stood, she turned and gave Jaskier a small smile.
“It’s alright. I understand. We’ll make sure to give you what you need.” She promised, and before Jaskier could even utter a word, she was spinning on her heel and leaving.
Finally, it was just him and Vesemir. The older Witcher turned around and folded his arms, seeming expectant. He must’ve known what Jaskier would ask him.
“Why did you stop her? I wouldn’t have minded being with her.”
With a heavy sigh, Vesemir walked out of his sight to the bench behind him. When he returned to his side, he took the cloth he’d seemingly grabbed from behind and held it out. Gently, he pressed it against Jaskier’s nose and mouth and waited.
“Breathe in.” He urged and Jaskier blinked and did just that. “And breathe out.”
He repeated the motion twice before he noticed something. His whole body had loosened, unclenching and spooling out into a warm puddle of omega. His stomach clenched briefly and loosened, and his lower belly pulsed in time with his heartbeat, the earlier ache resolving. Each breath from the cloth continued to permeate through his skin and nose, sending signals that the leather and hay scent was safe and he had nothing to fear. His body was enjoying the scent, even if he couldn’t understand why.
His eyes widened, he knew this scent.
“Now. Do you want Geralt or not?”
Jaskier eyes watered as he shook his head. Oh, how he longed to be accepted by Geralt-how his heart begged to be close to the man who had stolen it for so long. But alas, he knew-Geralt would never want him the same way. And so, he’d never be able to ask that of Geralt. To want Geralt’s lips and hands and body pressed to his. He’d never be able to ask for it, knowing that Geralt wouldn’t want the same. He was helpless. He had no other choice.
“Ah. You think he doesn’t feel the same.” Vesemir said casually, almost as if he was discussing the weather. “Do you know what it means, when an omega’s body reacts to an alpha’s scent like this?”
He blinked and shook his head again. What did it matter? It changed nothing.
“The omega is happiest when he’s with that alpha. It means you need him. To truly feel safe and happy in this heat. If you truly don’t want him, I can ask Eskel or Lambert or Coen, or even Yennefer. You can choose to remain with her. But it may be better for us to try with Geralt first.” Vesemir explained and glanced at him disapprovingly, much to Jaskier's surprise. “Especially when Geralt is in despair because he thinks you’d rather be with the mage than with him.”
Vesemir pulled the cloth away and turned to put it away, only Jaskier reached out and clutched at his wrist.
“Can I please…” He pointed at the cloth and bit his lip. “It helps.”
There was a knowing gleam in his eyes, almost like the old Witcher was seeing something Jaskier couldn’t. He took the small square and folded it neatly, giving it to Jaskier’s waiting palm.
“Keep it. I’ll see if I can find Geralt’s fur cloak. He used to use it when he was younger. I’ll clean it and give it to you when it’s ready. Consider it a gift.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much Vesemir.” Jaskier smiled and brought the cloth up to his cheek. It felt soft on his skin and almost felt intoxicating with how amazing it smelt. He felt like he could burst with happiness.
“You’re a good lad. Geralt would be lucky to have you. He is lucky.” Vesemir said, glancing at him while collecting the potions into a small wooden box. “He’s been happier. More settled since he met you.”
“Oh? Really?”
“Hmm. He’s lucky. Finding an omega mate is a wish all Witchers have but most don’t recieve. Lambert most of all. It’s why he’s more agitated these days.”
“Wait-“ Jaskier sat up quickly and pulled the furs up. Then he pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. The cloth rested on top. “-does Lambert hate me because he wants an omega?”
“Hmm. Though he doesn’t hate you. Nor would he ever hurt you. As Geralt’s mate, you would be safe around him. He’d never let any harm come to you, even if he wants what his brother has.”
“Hmm. He’s jealous?”
“Not exactly. But I suppose that’s one way to describe it. When you’re more comfortable, you can ask him.”
His eyebrows shot up at that.
“Would he be okay with me asking? He might bite my head off.”
“No. He’ll growl and snap but he won’t lay a finger on you. You’re still family. And he knows you’re human.”
“Ah, well.” Jaskier ducked his head down and rubbed his nose lightly against the cloth on his knees. “I’m not sure I’m fully…human.”
“Oh? Part elf?”
How does he know?
“Ah. I’ve been around a long time pup.” Vesemir huffed and swept the dirt off the bench, seemingly oblivious to the shocking revelation Jaskier was experiencing. “You have a distinctive hint of sweetness in your scent. A sign of being part elf.”
“I’m not sure how much.” He admitted, fiddling with the threads of the fur. “But I haven’t aged for some time. I don’t know if it’s obvious yet.”
At that, Vesemir paused. He looked at Jaskier carefully, his eyes scanning over him again and again.
Then his face turned peaceful. He smiled at Jaskier wistfully like he was reminiscing over past events.
“Geralt is incredibly lucky. That boy has been blessed by destiny.” Vesemir mumbled and shook his head, seeming stunned. “Your elven trait is longevity?”
“I don’t know. But…maybe.” He admitted, trying not to blush under the scrutiny. “I think I get it from my mother’s side. I don’t know if Geralt knows.”
“He doesn’t. But he needs to.”
They sat in silence for a short while, Jaskier taking steady breaths from the scent cloth. It certainly helped but he could tell it would only be a temporary measure. His body knew what it wanted.
Eventually the silence was broken by footsteps echoing on the spiral stairs. Jaskier watched as Geralt and Yennefer descended, both looking deeply in thought, although Yennefer looked more tired.
Jaskier sat up a little when Geralt walked in. Their eyes met.
“Jaskier. Come with me.” Geralt said and waited at the base of the stairs for Jaskier to slide his legs off the bed. His bare feet touched the floor as he pushed himself off.
The room spun a little. Quick as lighting, he reached out to grab the edge of the nearby bench.
He didn’t need to worry. Geralt was beside him instantly, hands slipping around his waist to steady him. His huge palms burned against his chemise. The warmth of his chest pressed against his back.
“I’ll help you.” Geralt said softly, using one arm to dip down and lift Jaskier up fully. Out of instinct, Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt’s neck, and felt the air leave his lungs when Geralt hoisted him up fully into his arms. Feeling like a prize, Jaskier blinked up at Geralt nervously. But Geralt wasn’t looking at him.
“His room is best.” Vesemir said and Jaskier realised that Geralt was looking to his mentor for help. “His own scent and complete privacy. We’ll make sure to bring you food every day.”
“Hmm.” Geralt glanced at him once before beginning to walk up the stares, the sound of his footsteps permeating the walls. It was loud, made even louder by the silence around them. Jaskier’s heart was beating out of his chest. He wasn't sure what was happening, but he hoped it would not be a problem-the last thing he needed was Geralt finding out about his scent bonding.
They went slowly, each step feeling more like the edge of a cliff as they reached the top of the cold stone stairs to the dimly lit corridor. Once they reached the correct door, Geralt nudged it open with his elbow and pushed in. Once they were in, Geralt placed him gently on the bed in the corner.
He was carefully set in the middle, left to stare up at Geralt nervously when the alpha clenched his jaw and looked around. Jaskier followed his gaze and noted that several skins of water, and several clean cloths had been stacked neatly on the table. His red leather coat had also been repositioned, so that it was folded and resting at the foot of the bed, with his boots settled nearby. The wall candles and the fireplace had yet to be lit, and the room was bathed in a dark shadow, with the moonlight shining down on Geralt, giving him an unusually predatorial silhouette. Against his will, Jaskier shuddered and licked his lips.
His lower abdomen clenched. He was getting closer, fuck.
“Would you like to eat something?” Geralt finally asked, breaking the heavy silence that had settled over them like a shroud. When Jaskier hesitantly nodded, Geralt took hold of the fur that had slid off his shoulders, and wrapped it back round him.
“I’ll be back in a moment.”
In his own company, Jaskier began to ponder what it was that Yen would’ve told Geralt. Would she have said she was going to claim him? Did she order Geralt to sort his heat out this instant? Did she tell Geralt that he wanted him?
The taciturn Witcher had given nothing away. He’d been tight-lipped throughout their trip upwards and had been carefully neutral when asking about food. Even his scent didn’t give any indication of what was going on in his mind.
Unless he’s not actually here to accompany me. Maybe he’s just here to make sure I’m well before the heat hits.
Perhaps the thought was off-putting to him, Jaskier reasoned, feeling something dim in his heart. He understood why however. He was not attractive to Geralt, otherwise Geralt would’ve responded to his advances many years ago. When he’d been young and full of life and hopeful.
Now he was older. And about to experience his first heat in years.
Melitelle, will I even survive this? Or will I burn?
The memories of Rience resurfaced for a moment, and with it, Jaskier’s memories of the hopelessness and despair. The rough, cutting edges of the ropes on his wrists and the all-encompassing darkness of the room where he was tortured.
The heat of the flames dancing near his flesh.
“I’m here Jask. Don’t cry.” Jaskier heard and suddenly blinked himself back into the present. Geralt was kneeling on the bed in front of him, one hand on his shoulder, the other holding a tray of fat fruits, juices and soft cheeses.
“I’m fine.” He tried to say but couldn’t stop the way his voice shook as he rubbed his eyes. His fingertips did come away damp when he looked.
“Ah, it must be my heat. Making me emotional. I’m fine, Geralt, don’t worry.”
Geralt didn’t look any less worried, though his shoulders did loosen somewhat. Letting his hand slide off Jaskier’s shoulder, he took a piece of the neatly cut cheese and offered it to Jaskier.
“Eat. Please.”
Jaskier accepted the offering and together they enjoyed a quiet moment of eating and watching the moon through the window. The moon itself seemed to glow, and was large and partially filled, and somewhere out there was likely a pack of wolves bundling in a cave to keep out the Winter cold. Not unlike their own group in Kaer Morhen that was soon to be heading to bed for the night.
It was peaceful. And for a moment, it almost felt like this was any other night in an inn that they’d chosen to rest in. Jaskier’s lute was resting in the corner of the room, just like any other night, and there was only one bed, again, no different to any other night.
“Can I light the candles?” Geralt asked quietly and waited for Jaskier to nod before doing so with a quick cast of Igni. The room instantly came alive with an orange glow.
There seemed to be a lull as Geralt took the empty tray and cups and placed them on the table. With the realisation that there was nothing left to do but…proceed, Jaskier felt his face begin to heat.
“Jaskier. How are you-“
“When is Yen coming?” Jaskier blurted out and curled inwards around his belly as his face went red. What on earth was he doing? This wasn’t anywhere near as suave as he usually was. He was behaving as if he’d never slept with anyone before!
When no answer came, Jaskier unfurled himself and looked up. Geralt’s expression looked pinched, like he was physically in pain.
“She’s not coming.”
“O-oh. Okay.”
There was a pause. Then-
“Shall I get her?” Geralt asked, and again, the words sounded forced, like Geralt had no real desire to do so but would follow through if Jaskier wanted it. Jaskier had never seen Geralt look so restrained before.
“I-ah, no, she’s probably busy! Witch things, I’m sure!” He laughed nervously, feeling his eyes dart from wall to wall, not wanting to risk catching Geralt’s eye. If he did, he’d give away what he truly wanted and then Geralt would leave and-
I’ll be alone.
“Please don’t leave.” He managed shakily, reaching out with trembling fingers to pat the space next to him on the bed. “It’ll be a long night and I would really appreciate a…a warm friend to keep me company.”
Geralt’s hummed in response but Jaskier could tell he was sceptical. Still, he settled on the bed beside Jaskier and rested his palms on his knees. His legs were spread wide, and Jaskier felt his mouth water.
Then he snapped his mouth shut and looked away. Geralt would be the death of him if he wasn’t careful.
“I won’t leave.” Geralt murmured into the space between them. “What is it you want?”
“I…I don’t know Geralt, I’ve never had a heat come on like this before.” Jaskier said and frowned. “I don’t know what to expect here.”
“It shouldn’t be this early.” Geralt noted and irritation began to flare in Jaskier’s mind. It wasn’t his fault.
“No. It shouldn’t.”
“It’s almost unheard of.”
“Hmm.” Geralt agreed but then he turned to look Jaskier in the eye with a considering expression.
“Omegas in distress go into heat.” Geralt said quietly and instantly, Jaskier wanted to run far from the keep. Instead, he could only growl and flop onto the bed, rolling over to avoid Geralt’s piercing gaze.
“I’m fine.”
“You shouldn’t be in heat. And definitely not with the suppressants.” Geralt continued to say and Jaskier could only imagine his expression, probably one of complete and utter distain. Although…
He sounds worried. He is worried.
“Are you in pain? How do you feel now?”
A hand sank into his hair, brushing gently, as if to sooth and calm. Like Geralt believed the mere action could ease some of the pain. Unwillingly, tears began to spring in Jaskier’s eyes. When he’d wanted the comfort, he’d received none but now, when he would soon be mindless with need, he’d receive it? Would it only be in his heat that he was cared for?
“It’s fine. I’m not in the thick of it yet.” Jaskier swallowed and felt tears fall down his cheeks as he stared at the stone wall before him. Geralt continued to run his fingers through his hair as he hummed in thought.
“Still. Heats can be uncomfortable in the best of times. And this is an unexpected one. I need to know if you’re in pain.”
“Why? You’re not my alpha.” Jaskier grumbled but instantly froze.
What have I done?
“I-“
“Jaskier.”
“Sorry, I don’t know why I-“
“You’re right, I’m not your alpha.” Geralt agreed softly, sounding exhausted all of a sudden and Jaskier was certain he could feel his heart shattering at the easy acceptance, even if he knew it to be true.
But then, something changed. In the air and the scent around Geralt. He took Jaskier gently by the shoulders and guided him round to face him. When Jaskier looked up, he saw something flare in Geralt’s eyes.
“I’m not your alpha, no.” Geralt repeated, reaching out to brush the tears Jaskier had forgotten were on his cheeks. “But I have been with you for over twenty years. I have watched over you, been there for you, protected you from threats in the only way I know how.”
Jaskier’s eyes widened. He could hardly breathe.
“I know I have hurt you, Jask. I know I’ve been…an awful friend to you.” Geralt continued to speak as if he didn’t know the effect he was having. “What I said on the mountain was wrong. You mean more to me than you know. You’re family Jask. A partner to me. Always have been.”
A small frown formed on Geralt’s face then, and he took a deep breath like he was mustering up the courage to speak.
“I need to know if this is something you want.” Geralt said, eyes unseeing as the life-altering words began to leave his lips.
”Jaskier…”
Geralt looked away briefly. But then he turned and gave a surprising show of boldness as he steeled his shoulders and faced his omega.
“I need to know. Do you want me?”