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ok but imagine jaskier has to take geralt home to lettenhove for some reason.
and maybe ciri is there, maybe they’re on the way to kear morhen and they run out of food money and supplies and it’s not like geralt can take a contract what with his armor and swords under the ruins of cintra. and jaskier just looks at their tired wet cold faces and is like fuck.
im gonna have to see my family aren’t i. and so he takes them to lettenhove and his plan is to leave them at the inn outside the gates bribe the gaurds and then get food and supplies from the household staff he can trust and neither geralt nor his family would be any the wiser.
but the fucking minute he steps into town someone shouts “master julian!” and he’s totally fucked. it’s the old fletcher who worked in the castle when he was a boy, who had let jaskier watch his work even when he was supposed to be at his lessons. and it isn’t like he can ignore the man, he showed him such kindness as a boy.
so jaskier goes to talk to him while ciri and geralt share the same look of “master??? julian???” but then more of the lettenhove townspeople take notice and more and more want to come greet good master julian who was always such a nice boy, and isn’t it lovely he’s finally come home and is that his daughter isn’t she lovely
when the attention shifts to ciri geralt is immediately protective and on guard but jaskier seems comfortable with these people so he stops himself from audibily growling. just.
and jaskier extracts himself when he hears the tromp of booted feet and sighs deeply but steps in front of geralt to meet the soldiers. both his companions tense behind him but he just greets amrah with a cheery smile. the man gives him a slight bow and now geralt and ciri are completely lost because usually soldiers plus jaskier leads to geralt poking holes in people.
they follow the soldiers up the road to the keep. both ciri and geralt have questions. a lot of questions. so many questions. but when they both try to ask jaskier shoots them a warning look and shakes his head. he trusts the people of lettenhove, but there is a war on, and even the kindest people can be turned if their children’s lives hang in the balance.
there’s a young woman waiting in the yard when they arrive. she’s beautiful, long dark hair and a smile tucked away but close to the surface. jaskier bows deeply to her, ciri curtsies, and geralt inclines his head which is just about the same respect he offers anyone.
“you’ve returned. how delightful.” she does not look delighted. “you will follow me, and listen intently while i shout at you. your companions will be delivered to your rooms to await you”
jaskier looks about to argue but holds his tongue. he and geralt have a wordless conversation over ciri’s head before the witcher grunts and tilts his head in acquiescence and he and ciri follow the waiting servant.
they’re delivered to a set of rooms nicely decorated but lacking any kind personality.
“geralt what is-“
“I don’t know”
“but who’s juli-“
“I don’t know”
“why was that woman-“
“ci- fiona. if i knew i would tell you” geralt did not want to explain to his child surprise the concept of a kept man.
when jaskier comes back geralt does a cursorary scent, but the bard just smells like stress and his lavender hand cream. his hair stands up like it does when he’s been messing with it, but he looks no worse for wear.
“well. this wasn’t exactly what i had in mind when i suggested resupplying here”
“jaskier”
“yes dear witcher?”
“what. the actual fuck. is going on. if you’ve brought us to another house you’ve cuckolded-“
“what? you think? geralt! that’s my baby sister!”
of all the answers geralt thought he’d get, that wasn’t one of them.
“but you’re a bard”
“what, do you think bards just pop out of the ground fully formed? gods geralt, ive never known you to be thick. i told you we were coming here.”
“no, you said we were coming to lettenhove, you never said anything about a sister!”
“22 years and he still can’t remember my name. fiona, dear, do you remember how i introduced myself when we first met?”
“julian alfred pankratz, viscount de lettenhove, and the greatest bard who ever lived” ciri parrots from across the room, sprawled out on the soft bed.
“thank you dear. don’t fall asleep, we’re all expected at supper.”
“jaskier.” it’s geralt’s ‘tell me now or i throw you off the battlements’ growl.
“yes yes, fine. i left when i was very yong. technically i was supposed to return from my life as a wandering bard when my father died. you can probably tell i did not obey that particular order. vanya, my sister and the lady de lettenhove, took over day to day affairs some time ago and from what I heard was doing a fantastic job, much better than i ever could. so i just. haven’t come home.” he shrugs “the people were happy with her, she enjoys caring for them, and i don’t belong here. i wasn’t ever planning to come back but well. we are in desperate need of money and supplies if we’re ever to reach kear morhen alive.”
and geralt is geralt so coping mechanisms are limited when you find out that almost always desolate bard who’s floated around you for 22 years is also a fucking lord. so he copes poorly by crossing his arms frowning and not saying anything at all. because strange new lordling jaskier also has a reasonable point, which is distressing to geralt for a whole hoast of reasons he doesn’t himself understand.
so geralt agrees and they stay for dinner while supplies, including mounts for all three of them, are prepared. and if geralt notices vanya watching him he doesn’t mention it. he doesn’t smell fear off her, but people have plenty of reasons to watch a witcher at their table, so he doesn’t bregrudge her it.
they send ciri off to bed before the meal is done, the girl is almost asleep in her stew. jaskier and geralt excuse themselves shortly after.
“master witcher? a moment, if you please.” vanya’s low voice stops them, and after a silent exchange geralt lets jaskier leave them.
“is there something i can do for you, my lady?”
vanya smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
“not as such. please, sit. no need to stand on formality here.”
so he sits stiffly, not sure why this woman would ask for him.
“my brother is a strange man. always has been. such an odd boy, always with his head in the clouds.” the smile on her face and affection in her voice are the only thing that stop him from growling at the way she speaks of jaskier. “he loves you.” that gives him pause. “you know it. he knows it. half the continent knows it and there’s a war on. tell me, master witcher. do you intend to break my brothers heart again?”
she’s smiling but her words are sharp, and they cut at geralt. their reunion after the dragon hunt hadn’t been what geralt had wanted. ciri had been with him, and geralt knew most of the reason jaskier had agreed to travel together again was the girl. they’d been off with each other ever since, dancing around the past without ever coming close.
“i don’t know what you’ve heard, my lady, but jaskier and i never had-“
“spare me, please. i knowmore about my brothers proclivities than any sister should ever have to.” again, the smile that didn’t meet her eyes “you’re a witcher, so any threat of bodily harm i make is a moot point. but hurt my brother again, and I am sure i could think of something very creative for you to endure.”
she gets up to leave but turns back. “ask him to sing you her sweet kiss. that should make everything clear, even to a man like yourself”
ciri is asleep on the cot in front of the fire when geralt gets back. jaskier is plucking mindlessly at his lute, likely meant to be a lullaby for ciri to calm her way into sleep.
“what did my sister want?”
geralt grunts but says nothing, going about getting ready for bed.
“loquacious as always my friend” but jaskier just puts away his lute and slips under the covers. they've taken to all sharing a room on the road, easiest to reach ciri if she had a nightmare and less coin spent on rooms for him and geralt. now it's more of a habit of comfort, and neither man wants to put an end to it.
“hmm” geralt’s questioning hum.
“yes?”
“what’s her sweet kiss?”
jaskier falters, his heartbeat increases.
“why are you asking me about a song i wrote? you’ve never done that, you don’t care about my songs.” and his voice is small, so small, it almost breaks geralt's heart.
“what is it?”
but jaskier doesn’t answer. he curls up under the blankets, closes his eyes, evens his breathing. geralt knows he isn't asleep, could challenge him again if he wants, but doesn’t. he extinguishes the candles and joins jaskier in bed, each man firmly on his side.
and if in the night they slide ever closer, if geralt wakes before dawn to the heavy weight of bard across his chest his own arm curled protectively across the man's back, if when he wakes again the weight is gone, leaving just the faint scent of lavender. well. it's not something they talk about.
with each step they take away from lettenhove jaskier seems to lighten. the horses they've been given make the journey easier, and vanya makes sure to outfit them against any weather. ciri is given more clothes than geralt thinks they can reasonably carry up a mountain, but that can be a disappointing conversation for another day.
and he wants, oh does he want, to ask again about her sweet kiss, and what vanya could have meant, but he doesn’t. he saves that for inside the walls of kear morhen, where they'll be safe. and it's not like jaskier can avoid him on top of a mountain, can he?