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Chapter Text

For the past few months, Geralt noticed many changes in Jaskier that worried and fustrated him. He was still the same friendly, extroverted man who could strike up a conversation with anyone. He still sang in taverns when they stopped at a new town. As they travelled between destinations, he still talked more to Geralt in one setting than Geralt could say in an entire year.

But the Bard was constantly hungry. Suddenly, he began to consume double, and even triple, of what he usually ate. A few months after leaving Kaer Morhen, Geralt commented on his eating habits after Jaskier ordered a third serving of his meal. Geralt had just finished a hunt for the town's residents.

"Careful there with our funds," Geralt said when Jaskier tore into his meat and vegetables.

Jaskier stopped swallowed, "Fuck, Geralt. Am I eating too much?" He looked down, heartbroken, at the meal.

Geralt swallowed the sudden guilt he felt, "No, siren, of course not. We're doing good with money." That year they spent training Ciri at Kaer Morhen and taking local hunts in the area let Geralt save up a good amount of money, in addition to the fame Jaskier was receiving as his Bard.

"Do you want some?" Jaskier reluctantly pushed his half full plate towards his mate.

Geralt held up his hand. He sensed how hungry Jaskier still was. "Go ahead. I just made a bad joke, you're fine."

Jaskier bit his lip, looking down at his plate, and began to eat once more. Geralt sighed in relief.

With all the eating he was doing, Jaskier began to put on some weight. But it was strange because the added padding seemed to be centered around his belly. To Geralt, his arms, legs, and face remained their usual size, while his stomach kept growing. He didn't mind it, it actually excited him. When they were intimate, Geralt kept rubbing his soft belly as he fucked into his mate.

Jaskier didn't seem to notice the added weight until pants after pants stopped fitting.

"Fucking hell!" Geralt ran into their shared room at small inn located in an even smaller town to see Jaskier standing with his pants unfastened.

Clueless, Geralt said, "We have to leave soon, get dressed."

At that, Jaskier chucked a handy pair of pants at his shocked face. "I would get fucking dressed but nothing fucking fits me! I'm fat!" He started sobbing.

Geralt's heart twisted at the sight and feel of his mate's distress. He stepped deeper into the room and laid his hands on Jaskier's shoulders. The crying man whirled around like a feral drowner and slapped his hands away. "You did this to me, you fucking," he paused and sniffed, "man! That's right, you're a bad man! Good men don't let their mates get like this," he pointed at his belly.

Geralt had no idea how to respond, so he did a slow blink. That's another thing that changed with his mate, the man sometimes became emotional, a lot more than usual. He learned over the last few months that if he stood still and quiet as possible, Jaskier forgot his mood and bounced back. If he tried to help... well, there's a reason Geralt learned this lesson so thoroughly. He rubbed his forehead in remembrance.

Sure enough, his mate pouted some more and looked at himself in the mirror once more before brightening, "I just need to go on a diet and walk more. You keep putting me on Roach, instead of letting me walk now a days." Whistling, he took off his shirt, and Geralt couldn't help the stroke of arousal at the sight of his mate's toned upper body, hard little nipples, and plush belly. He stepped closer to the heat of his mate's body, intent on delaying their departure for a bit, when he heard, "Touch me, and you die."

Geralt sighed and stepped back. That was the last change. Hot and cold libido. Geralt was always roaring to go with his mate, but Jaskier was either wanted sex so much that he surprised Geralt or would push him away in disgust. He sensed that the aversion wasn't with him, but something happening inside the Bard, but sometimes it hurt.

He remembered how unusually horny Jaskier was with him, right after they left Kaer Morhen in March. He attributed it to them having time alone without family members around. He smiled faintly, remembering when Jaskier had to pull him off Roach to fuck him behind some tree. Then, when they found a place to stay, Jaskier wouldn't let him go on his hunt. He'd smelled so hot and delicious, his normal honeysuckle and dandelion scent heady and heavy with something rich and addicting. Now, four months later, Geralt felt lucky if he could get a hand job from his mate.

Jaskier dressed himself and held his hand out to Geralt. The Witcher felt pathetic for the curl of pleasure when he held hands with his mate as they walked out of the inn. It made him feel like things were back to normal between him.

One month later, Jaskier stopped buttoning his pants, even the larger ones he got, and wore baggy shirts to hide his strange weight gain. Despite all the walking he did, or the walking that Geralt allowed him to do, Jaskier kept gaining weight around his middle. He even cut back on eating, even thought he felt hunger pains all through the night for several days.

Finally, Geralt couldn't take it and begged his mate to eat as he had been eating, "Jaskier, just eat it." Geralt ordered more food than normal and pushed the extra food towards Jaskier. His Bard eyed the food hungrily, his face looking wane and pale.

"Geralt, what's going on with me? I just ate a whole plate of food. I shouldn't want more. I thought I would be used to eating less by now," his fingers reached for the plate, but didn't bring it close to him.

"You're losing too much weight, siren. I don't like it," Geralt mentally pushed his worry towards his mate when he scoffed.

"Where is this weight I'm losing? Nothing of mine fits anymore," Jaskier dragged the plate closer to him and ate it ravenously.

Geralt felt a tight knot of tension ease in his own belly. Even though his stomach had gotten bigger, his mate had actually lost weight everywhere else. His legs became thinner and his face smaller and paler. It looked like he was getting sick, and Geralt couldn't stand it. It was wrong to see his mate like that. He needed to take care of him better.

"Where's the next hunt?" Jaskier asked as he finished the second the plate. Geralt raised his hand and asked the young waitress for another. Jaskier sighed in defeat.

"One town over," Geralt pushed the rest of his own meal towards Jaskier who took it without protest. He watched him eat.

"Are you going to let me walk? You now, I need the exercise," he patted his stomach.

"No," Jaskier was starting to... waddle to compensate for the additional weight around his middle. It was adorable to Geralt but slow and uncomfortable for his mate.

"Fine," he pouted, then became distracted by more food.

That night, Geralt woke up to a sensation he hadn't felt in months- Jaskier's talented mouth on his cock. He blinked his cat-like eyes in the dark and saw the human shaped lump under the covers, between his legs.

"Jaskier, gods!" He groaned and flung back the covers to see his coy mate with his cock filling his soft mouth. He caressed the side of his face with his hand and felt his cock stretching his cheek.

Jaskier pulled off with a loud pop and a smile, "Finally awake, love?" He smirked and jerked the cock in front of him.

"What a way to wake up," knowing that his mate couldn't see in the darkness, he used a sign to light the nearby candle. "Come here, my beautiful siren," he pulled Jaskier to straddle his lap, feeling his belly press against his own flat stomach. He suddenly felt hungry for his mate, to feel his body trembling with pleasure, and to take care of him with everything that he had. The feeling was so strong that he had take deep breaths against Jaskier's neck before rising to take his mouth.

Jaskier kissed him back with equal passion and ran his hands over Geralt's bare, muscular torso. When Geralt reached to pull off his shirt, Jaskier shrank back, "Am I still beautiful to you, Geralt?" He played with the hem of his oversized shirt.

Geralt raised his head with two fingers on his chin, "You never stopped being the most beautiful person I have ever seen."

Jaskier blinked the tears away from his lovely blue eyes before nodding and taking off his shirt himself. Geralt immediately rewarded him by kissing and licking his soft skin. He sucked a brown nub into his mouth and rolled it around his tongue, while Jaskier gasped and pressed himself closer. He headed south to his distended stomach and kissed the tender area slowly.

"Geralt, I want to feel you inside me," Jaskier whispered.

Both Geralt and Jaskier usually liked their sex on the rougher side and since Jaskier had inherited some of Geralt's healing abilities through their bond, he could take Geralt at full strength. But Geralt wanted to be slower today, gentler. He wasn't sure why, but it felt right. Kissing his mate one more time, he left their bed to find his bag and rummaged for small bottle of oil before returning. He slicked himself up and spread his mate's thighs.

He covered the other man with his body and pushed inside his tight heat. As their bodies moved together in a familiar rhythm, Geralt kissed and stroked Jaskier's lips and body. Mindfully, he kept some of his weight off of Jaskier's stomach in case it hurt him.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me," he whispered into his lips.

"I love you," Jaskier said back.

He rocked into Jaskier's smaller body, hitting that sweet spot inside of him. He swallowed his mate's cries and only allowed himself to cum when he felt the walls of his ass tighten around his cock.

Several minutes later, they laid side by side on the bed. Geralt felt warm, sated, and drowsy, so he was a minute away from falling asleep when Jaskier said, "I think I need a healer."

Sleep immediately left him. He sat up, "Why? What are you feeling?"

"Love, it's not natural that I keep growing like this," he gestured to his middle, "despite everything I'm doing."

Geralt felt fear enter his heart. He never imagined that this could be related to something malicious. He looked down at Jaskier's belly and wished it was gone.

"What do you think it is?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

Jaskier shrugged, "No idea. A tumor, maybe?"

"But you have my supernatural healing, remember. I can't remember hearing about a Witcher with tumors," Geralt rubbed his arms to ward off the sudden chill in the room.

"But you've never heard of Consorts, either, and here I am," Jaskier smiled at the anxious Witcher. He took Geralt's hand, "Don't worry so much. We won't know until Colette examines me."

"Colette?"

Jaskier nodded, "Coën's stepdaughter. She's going to be my healer and tell me what's wrong." He spoke with such certainty, as if he had already spoken with the young woman and knew exactly where she was.

"Siren, Colette lives in Kovir, the neighboring country, and we have no idea where she is." They had just met Colette and Harlan, Coen's little family, a few months ago at Kaer Morhen. They all wintered together at the keep along with the other Wolves. It was one of the best winters Geralt had ever spent at Kaer Morhen.

"So, we'll go find her. Or, find Coën, he would know where she and her father are." Geralt wondered if this was one more change that he should add to the growing list, unreasonable stubbornness.

He took a calming breath, "Jaskier, I have no idea where Coën could be. The only thing we know for certain is that he'll be at Kaer Morhen in November. Maybe, he'll bring Colette with him. Maybe not. We could find another healer." Geralt had no idea who, he never needed a healer before, but someone must do.

"No, I don't want anyone else. I only want her, I trust her," Jaskier turned on his side away from Geralt.

Geralt spoke to his mate's lightly freckled back, "If this is a tumor or something serious, we can't wait until November to find out. She might not even come!" Silence and no reaction from his partner. "It's August, Jaskier, you want to wait for so long? If she doesn't come, then we'll have to spend the whole winter wondering if you're sick." No response.

Geralt gritted his teeth and turned on his side, too, away from his mate. The morning found them entangled again with Jaskier laying on his chest, his stomach digging into Geralt's side. Geralt shifted until he could rest his hand on the growing mound. It felt slightly hard, unnaturally so. His heart sped up at the thought that this could be killing his mate. It didn't feel evil, though.

He sniffed in Jaskier's direction. It didn't smell evil either. Jaskier smelled healthy and content, but there was an added layer to his scent that Geralt hadn't paid attention to before. It was warm and wholesome, almost like freshly baked apple pie. Was that the tumor? He closed his eyes and tried to feel for Jaskier's emotions, trying to sense something wrong. All he felt was a deep sense of contentment, happiness, and safety from Jaskier's body. The emotions disarmed him, and he closed his eyes to the softness of the feelings.

It took Geralt almost another month to convince Jaskier that they should see another healer who wasn't Colette. His Bard was stubborn, and Geralt had no idea that the woman had made such a strong impression on him. He mentioned getting Yennefer to help with finding Coën or Colette, but the withering look Jaskier gave him made the words die in his throat.

"I trust that witch as far as I can throw her, probably less. I don't want her anywhere near me right now," Jaskier stared into his eyes until he nodded.

He only budged on the subject of healers when they "stumbled" on one of the most renowned healers in the region. Geralt might have asked around and knew where Healer Rix was going to be. Plus, the healer was on route back to Kaer Morhen.

He expected Jaskier to fight him on going back so early, but the Bard was happy to see Ciri again after such a long time. They both missed the girl and hoped that next year, she would be ready to travel with them. Vesemir and Lambert stayed behind to continue to train her.

Even though he agreed, Jaskier wasn't happy at all to see Healer Rix. He pouted all the way to the inn where they were staying. Geralt left him there with a kiss and went to secure a meeting with the Healer. The man readily agreed to meet with him the next morning.

"Geralt, I don't want to do this," Jaskier whispered as the Witcher walked him to the small tent the healer was using as his headquarters. The air was heavy and humid, a storm was brewing.

Geralt made himself deaf of his mate's pleas. For the past month, he could barely sleep wondering if his love was dying in front of his own eyes, and he was helpless. His senses told him Jaskier was at the height of health, but what else could explain all these changes? He could only make him as comfortable as possible and made sure he ate enough. At the entrance to the tent, he had to grab Jaskier by his arm and pull him inside.

"Ah, the Witcher. Here is the patient?" Healer Rix finished washing his hands in a nearby bucket with a bit soap and dried them with a clean towel. He looked to be in his late 40s, and he had a tired but friendly air about him. Geralt moved Jaskier forward, hoping that he would feel better about being with an experienced, well-known healer, instead of a girl who was still apprenticing, but Jaskier just stared at the healer with a tense, wary look.

"Yes, this is Jaskier. He has a... growing mass in his stomach. Show him," he thought Jaskier would ignore him, but the man lifted his shirt with trembling fingers. It had grown even larger in the last month.

Healer Rix lost the smile on his face and stepped forward, his hand outstretched. Jaskier closed his eyes and turned his face away when the man's hand landed on his skin. Geralt pressed himself against his back.

"It's hard, I'm going to have to do a thorough exam. Please lay down," Healer Rix moved back and patted a clean, wooden examination table.

"Geralt," Jaskier found his hand, and Geralt half carried him to the table.

He held his mate's hand as the healer felt around his stomach and asked some questions. He could feel the almost overwhelming fear and distrust from Jaskier as the man touched him. He wanted to grab his mate and make him feel safe, but the threat was within him. They need to take care of this, and this healer might have the answer.

Finally, the healer stepped back and addressed them both with a serious expression on his face, "I'm not going to lie, this is very concerning. It's a hard mass, and I could detect movements."

"Movements?" Jaskier whispered, face pale.

"What is it? Is it life threatening?" Geralt squeezed Jaskier's shaking hand.

"I don't have an idea. I've never seen anything like this. But there is only one solution," the healer went to his table and picked up a scalpel. "We need to cut this anomalous mass out."

"What?" Geralt questioned.

Jaskier shot up from the table and hid behind Geralt. "Take me out of here, Geralt. I don't want this," he whispered urgently to his mate.

"You said the mass keeps growing, and it seems to be sapping nutrients from your... partner. The safest coarse of action is to cut it out, examine it, and then go from there," Healer Rix sounded so confident and knowledgable in his course of action, but humans were fallible, arrogant creatures.

Jaskier's unsteady form pressed against his back, "Please, Geralt. Don't do this. Don't let him do this to me."

"Witcher, your partner seems to be mentally incapable of making this decision. You must make it for him," he picked up a clear vial. "We could use this, he'll fall asleep for a few hours, and when he wakes up, he'll be normal, healthy."

"Geralt!" Jaskier shook his arm.

Normal. He wanted his Jaskier to be healthy and back to himself. He wanted to stop worrying about him. He turned around and stared at Jaskier's face. He gazed back at him with clear, cornflower blue eyes. "I don't want this, Geralt. I don't trust him."

"Why Jaskier? Ever single suggestion I bring up, you shoot down. You don't give me good reasons either. This is your life!" The disappointment and betrayal radiating from his love felt like a slap in the face.

"You need to respect my decision about my life and my body, Geralt! Trust me, dammit!" He pushed his shoulders, and Geralt let his body sway to his force.

"Witcher, what will your decision be?" Healer Rix asked, disregarding Jaskier.

And that made the decision for him, "No fucking thank you." He grabbed Jaskier's hand and left.

They were half way to the inn when Jaskier stopped, turned to him, and punched across the cheek. "Don't you ever do that to me again," he sobbed and Geralt took him into his arms. It started to rain, and the drops hid the tears already on the Witcher's face.

Chapter Text

The sun streaming though the open window woke Jaskier. He threw his arm to his left and whined when he felt the cold, empty sheets. Right, Geralt was on a hunt, so he was alone for the day. Perhaps, he could head into the town market, pick up something flashy for tonight's performance.

Jaskier swung his legs to the side of the bed and stood up only to immediately fall back onto the bed. He looked down at his protruding stomach and tears prickled the back of his eyes. He didn't understand what was happening to him and why. It felt like some creature had hijacked him, turning him into a prisoner in his own body. He couldn't get out of bed, couldn't run, couldn't walk normally, and nothing fit him. He was too self-conscious to do regular shows. He knew that everyone must be judging and staring at his body, wondering what was wrong with him. The only times he felt normal was when it was just him and Geralt and Roach in an isolated forest. Because his continued weight gain affected his agility and endurance, Geralt didn't want him camping outside anymore, and Jaskier had to agree that it was too uncomfortable for him.

He looked back at the rumpled sheets, wanting to lay there and wait for Geralt. He closed his eyes and felt for his mate through their connection. He was focused and excited about something. He smiled faintly. Even though he disliked the other parts of being a Witcher, Geralt liked the hunt. He knew that he had missed hunting for more elusive creatures during their year at Kaer Morhen.

Jaskier squared his shoulders and stood up carefully. He could do this. He was going to the market, buy something nice for tonight's performance, something that didn't make him feel like a little boy playing dress up, and he would have a good time doing it. When he sang tonight, he would have his lute over his belly, then he would go to sleep, and Geralt would be there in the morning. It would be one day closer to November, and to seeing the one healer he trusted.

He dressed himself carefully and ventured out. The market wasn't crowded, and he found a large purple shirt with some golden embroidery that would look great on him. Nobody stared at him closely, and he began to relax and even enjoy the unexpected shopping spree when someone bumped into him.

He fell onto the muddy ground and placed a hand over his racing heart and another around his stomach. The stranger muttered some apologies and reached down to help him, but Jaskier pushed himself away and ran as fast as he could back to the inn. In his room, he slid down against the door. He hated it when someone touched it. It was worse than when he first came out of the heat with Geralt. At that point, it just felt wrong to feel someone else's touch on him, but now, it felt dangerous. 

It'd gotten worse since Geralt took him to that healer a few weeks ago. It had been one of the worst experiences of his life. He didn't know the healer. He couldn't trust the person touching him. His instincts told him that he had to be careful, he had to protect himself, and the one thing he could always count on throughout his life was himself.

He needed to calm himself quickly, or else he could distract Geralt during his hunt. Already, he was noticing a decrease in his focus and a hint of worry enter his emotions. Jaskier thought of the one place he would feel safe in right now, Kaer Morhen. His shoulders slumped as he imagined the old, weathered keep, and its unique inhabitants. He wanted to feel safe and surrounded by people who cared about him and people whom he and Geralt trusted. He wrapped an arm around himself and brought his legs up to his chest as far as he was able.

He wanted to go home. His instincts urged him to get to Kaer Morhen as soon as possible. There, this situation would be resolved one way or another. He didn't go down to sing but instead curled up on his bed.

--

Geralt tied up Roach for the night and hurried into the inn. He hoped to catch the end of Jaskier's show. It's been too long since his mate had felt like singing, and he had missed it. 

Entering the local tavern, which also served as the local inn, Geralt saw a bored group of drinkers. No Jaskier in sight. No hint that just minutes ago people had been drinking, dancing, and swaying to live music.

"Hey, Witcher! Your little boyfriend left me hanging tonight," the bartender folded his meaty arms as Geralt approached.

"Hmm," That wasn't like Jaskier at all.

He remembered the brief flash of panic that leaked through the bond. Was Jaskier hurt? He turned to the stairs when another voice called out to him, "Witcher!" A tall man with a brown vest caught up to him. He glanced at the man impatiently. "I ran into your friend today. Tell him I'm sorry, alright? He didn't look too good. Coulda sworn the little guy hissed at me, too."

Geralt frowned and bounded up the stairs without saying a word.

He found a naked Jaskier curled up on their bed, muddy clothes on the floor. He released some of the tension in his body at seeing his mate sleeping peacefully. He picked up the clothes and placed them in the bin to wash for tomorrow. He sat next to his mate, his beautiful siren, and rubbed his cheek with the back of his hand.

"Jaskier, my heart, wake up," he smiled when blue eyes fluttered opened.

"Geralt? You're early," Jaskier moved closer to burrow his head into lap.

"I wanted to hear you sing. But you didn't," he carded his fingers through short brown hair.

Jaskier shrugged, "I didn't want to."

"Did you eat?"

"No, Dad, and I'm not hungry," he rolled his eyes.

Geralt couldn't remember a single day Jaskier hadn't been hungry since leaving Kaer Morhen, "Are you sick?"

"No! Or, maybe I am!" He sat up. "I'm sick of this! I'm tired of being like this," he gestured to his stomach, "feeling scared all the time, and I'm just tired! It was hard to get out of bed this morning, Geralt!" He hid his face in his hands and took deep breaths.

"What will help?" Because all of his ideas made things worse.

"I just want to go to Kaer Morhen, I need to be there."

Geralt frowned at the strange wording, but he didn't comment on it, "We are on our way-"

When he lifted his head, he noticed that Jaskier's blue eyes had dark circles underneath, "No, we need to just go straight there. No more hunts, no more stops."

"We need to stop at inns and the like for you to rest," Geralt said firmly. They had camped outside several weeks ago, and Jaskier woke up with bruises on his back and the side of his belly. They healed quickly, but that image hadn't left his mind for a while.

Jaskier briefly closed his eyes, "Alright. How long would it take us to get there?"

Geralt calculated the distance and matched it to their traveling speed, "One more month. We'll get there late October."

"Fuck, Geralt, I don't think I could do this for another month!" He threw himself back on the bed.

Geralt had to physically bite his tongue from saying that they could have solved this problem, or at least had some answers, by getting outside help. But Jaskier didn't want outside help.

"It's hard for me to bend over, Geralt. I can't even put on my own socks," Jaskier whined.

The Witcher suggested the only thing he thought could help, "Want a massage?"

Jaskier thought about it for a few seconds. "Yes," he pouted.

Several minutes later, a naked Geralt was keeling besides an equally naked Jaskier. He was rubbing some unscented oil onto his mate's back. He had very little idea what he was doing, but Jaskier seemed to enjoy it from all the moans and praise he gave.

"Yes, love, right there. Fuck me, that's good," he moaned as Geralt's rough hands traveled down to the small of his back. He looked down at his erect cock and ached to bury it between his lover's pert cheeks. "You're so good at this, Geralt. So fucking good," Jaskier whimpered when Geralt rubbed his shoulders.

After a few minutes of this, Jaskier asked, "You know what else you can massage?"

Geralt's heart quickened, his cock jerked between his legs. "No, I don't know," he purred.

"My feet, love, they've been bothering me so much!" He slowly rolled himself onto his back.

Geralt saw that his cock was half-hard, so he had hopes for a happy ending to this massage. He grabbed his mate's foot, it did look a little swollen, and slowly kneaded it with his thumbs.

Jaskier's eyes rolled in the back of his head, and he groaned like he was close to orgasming, further confusing Geralt's libido. "Fuck! Yes, Geralt, please. Just like that!"

He turned to the other foot and gave it the same treatment as he hungrily watched his mate's face and ogled his naked body.

Finally, Jaskier panted, "That was great, love, but I have one more thing for you to take care of." He parted his lean thighs. Geralt groaned and dived in.

The next month of traveling was hell on Jaskier. Being on Roach bothered him, walking bothered him, and being on Geralt's back definitely bothered him. To stop the complaints, Geralt purchased a small cart that he attached to Roach. The black horse neighed and protested hauling such an undignified object, but Geralt explained that it was for Jaskier's sake. She calmed down a little after that.

On the cart, Jaskier wasn't comfortable, but he was able to nap and rest his aching body. The cart was good idea, but it slowed down their progress. Geralt estimated that they would be set back by another week.

It didn't help that every night, the Witcher insisted on finding lodgings for them. Sometimes, they had to pack in early because the next town or city was too far. Jaskier begged to camp outside, but the idea was an anathema to Geralt. He refused to see his mate hurt again because they were too impatient.

With only two weeks left to reach Kaer Morhen, the pair stumbled upon a fall festival celebrating one of the local gods. Usually, it was Jaskier who had to convince Geralt to pause for something like this, but this time the one asking was the Witcher.

"You like festivals, don't you? It might be nice. Good food, some shopping," Geralt grinned when he saw Jaskier sit up in his cart.

"You hate festivals. And there will be so many people," he crossed his arms.

"But I know that you like them, and I'll be there to keep people away. What do you say?" Geralt grinned when his mate nodded.

At festivals, Jaskier would throw himself into the crowd and wander around the different stalls, talking to two people at the same time, and playfully flirting with any young ladies he saw in his path. The Jaskier of today clung to his arm and flinched away from any person who crossed an invisible line into his personal space. It the saddest and most worrisome of all the changes.

He felt Jaskier relax when he had his arm around him, so that's what he did. When he noticed his mate staring at a stall, they would go there together, and he made sure no one touched his siren. They got a few looks but no one did more once they saw his wolf medallion and yellow eyes. Gradually, Jaskier relaxed to the point that he wandered a few feet away from him to ask a merchant about a brooch.

Geralt, with his guard duties, he didn't notice that he was in someone's way.

"Excuse me," a young woman said in a polite tone.

Geralt moved away, keeping his eye on his mate. He glanced at the woman and realized that she was heavily pregnant. He watched her place a hand on her belly as she examined a brightly colored cloth. He glanced back at Jaskier and his round belly. Wasn't it odd how similar both looked?

"Geralt, what do you think about this for Ciri?" He held up the glittering brooch.

Geralt walked closer, dismissing the strange thoughts. Jaskier was a man, there was very little he could have in common with a pregnant woman.

Chapter Text

Geralt grunted as he shifted Jaskier higher in his arms. He sighed in relief when he saw the towering form of Kaer Morhen. 

"We're here!" He said to the man hanging onto his neck. 

"Finally. I can walk now, Geralt," Jaskier squirmed in his grip. 

He continued for a few more steps, then gently settled Jaskier onto the even section of the trail that will take them to the entrance. "How do you feel? No more pain?" He asked anxiously, searching his mate's form with his keen yellow eyes.

Jaskier carefully placed a hand on his stomach and shook his head. "No, I think I was just tired before."

"And you didn't eat enough," Geralt couldn't get over the sudden change in Jaskier's appetite. One portion was enough for him when he had been eating three or more for so long. 

"I am a little hungry," he admitted and started walking towards Kaer Morhen. Geralt followed, staying one step behind in case he needed something. 

On their way towards the Killer, the trail that led to the keep, Jaskier had doubled over. They had to leave the cart behind, and Geralt was busy guiding Roach through the more treacherous parts of the path when he heard his mate groan in pain. He turned to see Jaskier gripping his stomach and kneeling on the ground. For a handful of seconds, his blood froze in his veins, and his heart only started beating again Jaskier stood up on shaky legs. Geralt tied Roach up to a tree and carried Jaskier the rest of the way.

"You are both here early," Lambert strolled out of fortress with a smirk on his face. He stopped when he saw Jaskier. "You're really big," he pointed at him. 

"Smart, Lambert, very smart," Geralt said sarcastically. 

Ignoring them both, Jaskier walked up to Lambert and hugged him. "It's nice to be home," he sighed. 

Lambert looked shocked. He was the least affectionate out of all of them, but he patted Jaskier on the back. It was strange to see someone else close to his mate because for so long, Jaskier hadn't wanted anyone else near him.

"Hey," Lambert shifted uncomfortably, then paused and sniffed in Jaskier's direction, "You smell different."

"Geralt, Jaskier, what brings you both here so soon?" He heard Vesemir's gravelly voice before he saw his mentor walk out to meet them.

"You're both acting like it's summertime, it's almost November," Geralt grumbled as he clapped Vesemir on the shoulder. 

"Jaskier," Vesemir looked over the human who had just let go of Lambert. "Son, you look a little different. Are you alright?"

Jaskier's chin wobbled, and he threw himself into Vesemir's arms and burst into tears. He sobbed into Vesemir's worn shirt and the old Witcher didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around him.

"Geralt, what have you done?" Vesemir growled, patting Jaskier on the head. 

"I haven't done anything!" Geralt held up his hands. 

"Then, why he is crying?" Lambert gestured to the human. "And why he is so fat?"

At that, Jaskier cried harder into Vesemir's shirt, causing the Witcher to growl at Lambert. The redhead took a step back and muttered an apology. 

"We all got to talk about this. Jaskier's sick," Geralt said somberly. Vesemir's grip tightened around the human. "But we'll do it later. He needs to rest, and he's hungry."

"I'll make him something," over the winter, Lambert improved his cooking skills, but he still surprised Geralt with his suggestion. The redhead ran into the keep just as Ciri ran out.

"Jaskier! Geralt!" She hugged Geralt, and he felt some tension leave him at the feel of her small body in his arms. She turned around and stared eye wide at Jaskier. "Wow, I didn't know you could do that," she said in wonderment. 

As soon as Ciri came out, Jaskier pulled away from Vesemir and wiped the tears from his eyes. "Hello, my fair lady," he gave her a little bow. 

Smiling widely, Ciri hugged the Bard tightly. In a strange move, she pulled away, only to hug him again around the middle, and rubbed her cheek against his swollen belly. "Hello," she said happily. 

As much as he loved her, Geralt admitted to himself that Ciri could be a little strange. 

"Ciri, make sure Lambert is actually cooking something edible for Jaskier. I'm going to take him to his room," Vesemir nodded to the girl, and she ran into the keep. He took the Bard by the arm and led him away. "After you eat, you're sleeping," he heard Vesemir say sternly as they walked inside. 

Geralt found himself standing alone. He sighed and turned around to get Roach. 

A few hours later, everyone, minus a sleeping Jaskier, gathered in the main entrance hall. Geralt and Ciri sat in front of Vesemir and Lambert near the roaring fireplace. Geralt looked around at the small renovations Lambert had made at the request of Harlan and Jaskier. The floor was polished, the fireplace cleaned and updated, and many of the cracks were sealed. 

"Lambert has been busy," Geralt murmured. 

"Busy with a lot of noise is what I think. Everything was fine the way it was," Vesemir grumbled. 

"You'll be singing a different tune, old man, when Harlan and Jaskier come here with their happy faces," Lambert made an exaggerated shocked expression that made Geralt and Ciri chuckle. 

Vesemir swatted him on the shoulder. "Ciri, you're suppose to be reading," the girl dutifully returned to her book. "Geralt, tell us what's going on. If you want the girl to go, she can read her book upstairs."

Ciri gave him a pleading side glance. Geralt smirked and tousled her curly hair, "No, she can stay." Slowly, Geralt described all the changes he had observed in his mate over the past seven months. By the end of his story, Lambert and Vesemir had somber looks on their faces, while Ciri smiled into her book. 

"And it keeps growing?" Vesemir asked, sitting back in his chair. 

"Yes. And he refuses to see a healer or ask anyone for help. Says it doesn't feel right," Geralt grumbled. 

"Except for Colette?" Lambert clarified. 

Geralt nodded, "She's the only healer he would even think about letting near him. That one healer I told you about wanted to cut into him and take it out." He glanced at Ciri when she gasped. 

Vesemir glared at Geralt, "How could you take him to such a man? You were going to let him cut into your Consort just like that? What if whatever is in there cannot be disturbed in that manner?" 

"I didn't know what else to do! But what do you think it is, Vesemir? Have you ever heard of anything like this?" Geralt moved closer to his mentor, hoping to hear the answer to their problem in the next second. 

"He's pregnant," the men looked at Ciri. She gave them an 'are you dumb' look that only adolescents could pull off with perfection. 

Silence.

The three men laughed. Lambert laughed so hard that he had to hold onto the chair. Geralt pulled the girl into his arms and kissed her on the temple. "Thanks, Ciri, we needed that laugh."

"But it's true," the girl said slowly. 

"Vesemir, what are you teaching her? You've gotten soft in your old age," Geralt poked at the book Ciri had open on her lap. 

"Suppose I have," Vesemir wiped a tear from his eye. "Ciri, go and read to Jaskier, take that candle with you. It might calm the baby," he chuckled. 

Ciri huffed, grabbed the book and candle, and stomped upstairs. 

"Where does she get these ideas?" Lambert asked when she disappeared up the stairs. "Jaskier's a man, men can't get pregnant. That's absurd. Plus, Geralt's sterile."

"I'll tell Jaskier or Colette to talk to her about this kind of stuff. She was more sheltered when she was princess than I thought," Geralt waved his hand dismissively.

"Maybe, she's onto something, boys," Vesemir said slowly. Lambert and Geralt stared at him. "I once heard of a cockatrice who was able to successfully implant its egg inside of a human man. The man swelled up, much like a pregnant woman, and his stomach exploded when the egg hatched."

Geralt swallowed down the anxiety in his throat, "Jaskier hasn't been near a monster like that. Actually, he hasn't been near any monsters!"

"That you know of. Some monsters can shape-shift," Vesemir said gravely.

"Maybe someone placed a curse on him," Lambert offered. 

Vesemir rubbed his bearded chin. "And if we forcibly remove the curse, then Jaskier could die," he sighed. 

"If we let the curse some to fruition, then he could die," Geralt said through gritted teeth. "But who the fuck would put a curse on him? He's nice to everyone!"

"What about that witch you used to fuck? Yennever?" Lambert asked with a frown.

"Yennefer. And I haven't seen her in years," Geralt got up and paced. 

"Maybe she heard how happy you are with Jaskier, and she's still feeling kind of lonely, and she put a curse on him to stop your happiness," Lambert said eagerly.

The oldest Witcher smacked him again on the shoulder, "Have you been reading your romance books again?"

"No!" Lambert's face colored. "Besides, I told you those books belong to Eskel," he crossed his arms.

"So, what do we do?" Geralt asked his brother and surrogate father. Both remained silent for several moments. 

"There's nothing for us to do until Eskel and Coën arrive," Vesemir concluded. "If it is a curse, we need Eskel's magical expertise to figure this out. As a Griffin, Coën might know something, too. Griffins prided themselves on being the smartest," Lambert snorted. "But really, we need his stepdaughter, Colette. If Jaskier is willing to work with her, she could examine him and find out what's in there. Bottom line, we cannot act without knowing what's inside of Jaskier."

"What about getting another mage? A healer? A mage who's a healer?" Geralt said desperately. 

"Absolutely not!" Vesemir stood up and stared directly into Geralt's eyes. "If Jaskier reacted so badly with the last healer, it means that we should pay attention. What if the curse becomes active when someone, outside of the Consort-Witcher bond, tries to interfere?"

Geralt asked in frustration, "But why would he want Colette then?"

Vesemir nodded at Lambert, "This one likes her. Maybe Jaskier senses that she might become part of our bond at some point, or maybe because she's a fellow Consort's daughter. I have no idea, but he accepts her."

Lambert's face turned so red that Geralt couldn't distinguish between skin and his hairline, "Not true," he muttered. 

"So, more fucking waiting!" Geralt gripped his long hair, "I hate this, I feel so useless. I can't protect my own mate!"

"We have to trust Jaskier's instincts about this. Right now, he knows more than any of us. We'll follow his lead," Vesemir reminded his son with a stern glance. 

"Should we get drunk and forget about our problems for now?" Lambert's face had returned to its normal fair color.

"We can't drink," Geralt said gloomily. 

"What? I could have sworn you said we couldn't drink?" Lambert asked with a raised eyebrow. "Of course we can drink, I have barrels of wine in the cellar. Hell to carry those things up the Killer."

"The smell of alcohol makes him sick," Geralt explained tiredly. "It used to be that if he drank it himself or tasted it, then he would get nauseous and throw up. But over the last month, it changed. If he even gets a whiff of it, he gets sick."

Lambert raised his hand and tried to connect the information in an incredulous tone, "So, you haven't drank in months?"

The silver haired Witcher stared into the fire, "Yeah."

"And we can't drink for who knows how long?" Lambert dropped his hand and stared into the flames. 

"If it helps Jaskier, we'll do it," Vesemir sighed and also stared at the crackling flames. The three men remained silent for sometime. "This will be a long month."

Geralt went upstairs to sleep besides his mate. Wrapped in Jaskier's comforting scent and with the knowledge that he was safe at Kaer Morhen, Geralt fell into a deep sleep. 

When he woke up the next morning, he panicked a little when he saw that he was alone in bed. Through his bond, he could sense that Jaskier felt happy and relaxed, a welcome change from the past few months when all he sensed was the sharpness of his fear. Geralt stretched and got dressed and cleaned himself up in the nearby basin. Maybe he could convince Jaskier to take a bath with him in the hot springs area later. His cock stirred at the mental picture of a wet and naked Jaskier, full belly and all. As he walked to the kitchen, he wondered if his increased sexual arousal at his mate's belly was part of the curse. 

In the kitchen, a strange sight greeted him. Jaskier was eating a full plate of food, it looked like some sort of meat pie along with vegetables and bread. Vesemir and Lambert sat on either side his mate, watching him eat with happy and satisfied smiles. He had never seen such expressions on their faces before. Neither spoke, just watched him eat, and Jaskier didn't seem perturbed by the attention. The pie smelled delicious, but Geralt kept smelling something sweeter. He searched the table for another pie, maybe an apple one, but didn't see anything.

"Morning!" Jaskier said when he noticed his mate standing by the doorway. "Lambert made the best meat pie I've ever had. It's so good!" Jaskier gushed, causing the redhead to blush. 

"Lambert, when did you have time to make it?" He sat down at the table, across from Jaskier, and grabbed some bread and vegetables. He left the pie alone, in case Jaskier wanted more.

"I woke up really early. I've been practicing cooking," Lambert rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, you're a great cook! Thank you for this," Jaskier smiled brightly as he bit into his pie.

Geralt chewed his bread, hoping Jaskier would leave him a piece of the pie to try. He noticed that Vesemir and Lambert didn't have any pie on their plates either. 

"I told Jaskier what we discussed last night, Geralt," Vesemir told him, finally turning his gaze away from the happy bard.

"How do you feel about it, siren?" Geralt asked anxiously. 

Jaskier nodded and swallowed before answering, "I think it's a good plan. We can wait for Eskel and Colette to try and figure this out."

"Jaskier made it clear that he doesn't want outsiders at Kaer Morhen," Vesemir reached over to cut another slice of the meat pie and placed it on Jaskier's plate. "I agree with him. Whatever is going on is a family matter."

Jaskier nodded gratefully and muttered his thanks about the additional slice, "If we are following my instincts on this, then Kaer Morhen needs to feel safe to me. I don't want any strangers here, no outside help. We can figure this out ourselves when Eskel and Colette arrive."

"Do we know for sure that Colette is coming with Coën and Harlan?" Geralt asked, voicing one of his concerns. 

"Lambert?" 

At Vesemir's prompting, Lambert shrugged, "She should come, but we didn't leave off on the best terms."

Jaskier turned to the youngest Witcher, "Oh, you and Colette?"

Lambert shrugged a lone shoulder and looked away, "Maybe."

"She's so lucky! You're a good Witcher, you can cook, and you're good with your hands," he nodded to the polished kitchen floor. "You'll make such a great mate!" He told the embarrassed redhead. 

"He can't play Gwent, though, and I can fix stuff, too," Geralt grumbled. He vowed to help with the renovation project and to outshine Lambert in his mate's eyes. 

"Of course, my beautiful Witcher," Jaskier winked at him. Lambert gagged mockingly.

When Jaskier finished eating, he stood up and the three Witchers stood up with him. They all stared at each other in confusion. 

"Geralt, want to head to the baths?" Jaskier asked. Vesemir and Lambert sat back down.

Geralt helped Jaskier get off his bench and followed him towards the exit. He turned around to tell Vesemir and Lambert to leave him a slice when he saw that they already cut the remaining pie in two. 

In the baths, Geralt was treated to the sight of a naked and wet Jaskier who smiled and laughed easily. He washed his mate's back and marveled at the change in his scent. He hadn't realized how much the fear and uncertainty muted his natural fragrance, and Geralt couldn't get enough of it now that it was free. Wild dandelions in an untouched field and the sweet scent of honeysuckles all dipped in sunshine. Now, there was something more to the scent. As if it was carrying something delicious and wonderful and Geralt wanted whatever it was.

"Geralt, you're supposed to wash my back," Jaskier complained with a laugh as the Witcher kissed his neck. Wanting to taste more, Geralt changed to licking his damp skin. 

"I am," he murmured to the soft flesh and lightly bit it. "You taste so good, so fucking good," he groaned and turned his smiling mate around so he could kiss his mouth. Jaskier parted his lips when his tongue demanded entrance and held onto shoulders as he plundered the smaller man's mouth. 

Lost in his mate's scent, Geralt forgot about his worries and the possible dangers that had taken root inside of Jaskier but reveled in the taste and feel of his Consort. Hungrily, he pulled away from his mouth and kissed and licked his way down his body. He tasted like a ripe fruit that was ready to be plucked and taken. 

"Mmm, Geralt, not so fast, darling," Jaskier gripped him by his long, wet hair and held him back from swallowing his cock again. Geralt didn't fight his weak hold but licked the tip into his mouth and sucked it, whimpering in the back of his throat. Jaskier's huge belly was right in front of his face, and he wanted to cum on it, wanted the whole world to know that it belonged to him, that he put it there.

Jaskier loosened his grip and moaned when Geralt swallowed his cock whole again. "Fuck, I wish I could see you take my cock like that," he thrust his hips forward, fucking Geralt's throat with shallow movements. 

The Witcher bobbed his head and sucked Jaskier's cock, using all the tricks he learned over the years. He caressed his balls with his fingers, then pulled his mouth off his cock and sucked each sac into his salivating mouth. "Oh gods, oh gods," he heard his mate chant when he pressed a wet finger into his tight entrance. 

The warm water lapped around Geralt's knees as he worked on pleasuring the man who had bewitched and enthralled him completely throughout the years. He thrust his two fingers in and out of his hole as he stroked and sucked his erection. He could feel the approaching peak in Jaskier's pleasure and was desperate for it.

"Geralt, I'm cumming. Fucking shit, you're good, ah!" Jaskier held onto his shoulder as he came down Geralt's ready throat. He swallowed every drop, tasting the natural sweetness that belonged to his mate along with the faint bitterness of cum.

Geralt didn't get up immediately but fisted his weeping cock roughly between his spread knees. He pressed his cheek against Jaskier's enlarged belly and that sweet smell that reminded him of apples engulfed his senses. Hands carded through his hair and pressed his head ever so lightly into the protruding stomach, and Geralt grunted his release into the waters beneath him. He rested his forehead against Jaskier's stomach and wondered what the fuck just happened. 

Jaskier must have been thinking the same thing, he said, "Another part of this curse?" He could hear some amusement in his mate's voice. 

"Might be the best one yet," Geralt said dryly. 

Abruptly, Jaskier pushed him aside and turned away.  

Geralt hurriedly stood up and went to him. "What's wrong? More pain?" He extended his hands to touch Jaskier but didn't know if it would help or hurt.

Jaskier shook his head, "No, not painful. Just weird."

"What do you mean?" He rubbed his bare back cautiously. 

"Like a fluttering sensation here," he pressed a hand to the side of his stomach. The same side Geralt had been pressed against. "I've never felt anything like it, but it doesn't hurt. It's very light."

"Maybe the meat pie didn't agree with you? Lambert made it after all," Geralt wished he could teleport Colette and Eskel here.

"I think that's it. Let's go, I want to see Ciri train for a bit." They left the bathing area hand in hand.

Chapter Text

Standing in the open second floor landing of Kaer Morhen, Jaskier stared into darkening tree line that hid the trail leading in and out of the keep. He wanted to will Eskel or Colette into existence, have one of them would burst through the trees, and give him all the answers to his dilemma. Because he felt like he was running out of time. 

Jaskier didn't tell anyone, but the strange fluttering sensations only increased as the weeks passed. It didn't feel painful, and it came during the strangest times like when he was tucking into a good meal, laughing at someone's joke, or practicing a new song on his lute. If he had to describe it, it felt like little bubbles trapped in his stomach, but it made him uneasy.

Over the last month, he grew even larger. He didn't think it was possible for him to stretch any wider, but he did. It was uncomfortable to walk, he couldn't bend down anymore, he hadn't seen his ankles in so long, and nothing but Vesemir's old shirts and pants fit him. He slept more than he'd ever had in his adult life. Walking around outside exhausted, talking for too long made him sleepy, and being around all three Witchers (plus Ciri) made him feel so safe that he would fall asleep in the middle of conversations. One day, he woke up drooling on Vesemir's arm! The Witcher waved away his apologies and embarrassment, but Jaskier knew he was worried. Everyone was worried. Whatever was happening was getting more serious and intense. Despite all this, he tried to stay cheerful. 

He counted all the good things that happened to him everyday. He was still safe at Kaer Morhen and besides Lambert, no one stared at him weirdly. He ate delicious meals everyday because the Witchers were suddenly obsessed with cooking. Geralt had been acting very randy the past few weeks, making Jaskier feel a little better about his appearance, but he still felt too awkward to engage with him sexually so often. 

If this was to be end of his life, it wasn't a bad way to go with his friends and family around him. And he knew that his passing wouldn't mean the end of Geralt's life. Maybe, he could even find it within himself to be happy with someone else. He had to unclench his fists when he thought about some young man or woman hanging around his Witcher, sleeping in his bed, and getting fucked by his cock. 

"Jaskier, are you alright?" Ciri moved to stand beside him. Geralt told him that he needed to talk to the girl about sexual "things" once their crisis was over. He wouldn't say more. He hoped to tell Colette, before this curse or whatever it was killed him, to look out for the girl and guide her. Geralt was great at being a father but terrible at understanding female needs.

"Of course, I am," he held out his arm, and Ciri entered into his embrace. She tried to wrap her arms around his mid section, but he had grown too big for that. 

"I guess you're scared about-" she nodded to his stomach and bit her lip. 

"I'm not going to lie to you, Ciri, I am. I really am," he rubbed her arm. "But I know that you will look after Geralt if I can't do it." Oh fuck, he was scaring the girl because she stared at him with teary grey eyes. 

"Hina's sister died having her baby, and I don't want that to happen to you. Promise me, you'll be fine," she hugged him tightly. From past conversations, he knew that Hina had been a close friend of Ciri, a lower class girl who became the ex-princess's companion, but he had no idea what the connection between the girl's sister and him was. 

"No, that won't happen to me," he said with false certainty and stared into the distance as the girl sighed in relief. He had to fight to stay here. He had people who needed him and depended on him. No one could take his place, instead his death would shatter them all. He cared about them too much to let that happen. 

That night, Jaskier set a deadline for himself. If Eskel or Colette didn't arrive within a week, then he would be open to outside help. Even though the idea quickened his heartbeat with fear, he knew that someone out there had to have the means to his survival. He just had to find them. Nervous but determined, he went to sleep.

And woke up to pain. 

It was a dull pain that started in his back and spread to his front. He sat up in bed, it was still dark outside, and rubbed his back, trying to stretch it out. Maybe he strained a muscle or something last night. The pain eased, and he stood slowly, pain free. That was weird. 

"Jaskier? You alright?" Geralt asked sleepily. 

"Yes, I'm just going to ... get a drink of water. Go back to sleep," he shuffled towards the candle and lit it. He was glad that the moonlight let him see that much. "Be right back, love," he said to Geralt and left the room. 

Downstairs, Jaskier began to pace. He tried sitting down but then felt like getting up again. He rubbed at his tight neck and tried to relax his shoulders. Everything felt tense and off in him. He gasped when another wave of pain hit him, this time a little more sharper and focused. It was centering around his belly. 

"Jaskier, what's wrong?" He thought he imagined Eskel's voice, but then he saw the tall man standing up the doorway, his sandy colored hair highlighted silver in the moonlight. 

"Eskel, I- it hurts," he whimpered and gripped his stomach. 

Eskel dumped whatever he was holding in his hands onto the floor and hurried to kneel in front of Jaskier. His nostrils flared briefly, "Your scent, it's different. What's going on?"

Jaskier couldn't answer, it felt like his stomach was trying to squeeze itself out his body. He grabbed Eskel's muscular arm and squeezed. 

"Jaskier," he heard Geralt's voice and then his Witcher was standing besides him. "Where are you hurt?"

"I found him like this. He said it hurt and keeps holding his stomach."

"Jaskier, is it your stomach?" The pain was receding again, so Jaskier nodded and breathed out as his body tried to relax again. 

"Is he sick?"

"Jaskier's cursed. Or, we think he's cursed. We were waiting for you to help," he felt Geralt's large, warm hand on his back. 

Eskel was silent for a long while. Jaskier cracked open his eyes, afraid that if he moved too much the pain would come back. Eskel had his eyes closed, hands posed over Jaskier's body. 

He opened his golden eyes with a shake of his head, "I don't sense anything magical here. But I can try again," he added when he saw their disappointed expressions. "It's helpful if I knew more. What kind of curse do you think it is?"

"We have a lot to tell you," Geralt tiredly clapped him on the shoulder. He turned to the quiet bard. "Jaskier, what happened tonight?" 

Jaskier shook his head. "I've been feeling this pain, it comes and goes," he stood up to ease some of the tension in his body. 

Eskel gasped, seeing his belly in all its round glory. "What?" His jaw dropped.

Geralt rubbed his face, "It's his curse or whatever it is. Vesemir thinks it's a monster's egg. The rest of us think it's a curse."

"May I?" Eskel neared the stretching Jaskier who nodded. Eskel kneeled before him again and placed his rough hands on either side of his belly, an expression of wonder on his face. "And you think this is a curse?" He asked faintly.

"What else could it be? Jaskier's eating more, gaining weight but only in his stomach, tires easily, and has mood changes. I think the curse is sucking his life force. Or, it's a tumor that's sucking his life force," he moved to hold his mate's hand. 

"It's not a curse," Eskel dropped his hands and chewed his bottom lip. "But that's all I know for certain. I need to research more."

Jaskier saw that Eskel's hands were shaking when he stood up. "Do you know something?" 

Eskel shook his head quickly, but Geralt narrowed his eyes and stepped around Jaskier to grab his brother's his black vest in his two fists. "Eskel," he growled menacingly. 

"Eskel, tell us what you think it is," Jaskier commanded, hoping to use his Consort bond to make the Witcher talk. 

At first, it seemed to work because Eskel's amber eyes softened at his voice. He pulled himself out of Geralt's grip. "I'm sorry, I don't know anything for certain. I only have this really, really embarrassing guess, and if through some stupid chance I'm right, none of us are equipped to handle this."

"So, what the fuck can we do?" Geralt stepped towards Eskel again, but Jaskier grabbed his arm. 

"That girl, Coën's stepdaughter. She's a healer, and a woman! Is she here?" Eskel looked around the room, as if Colette was going to pop out any moment. 

"No! Look Eskel, tell us what you think it is. Whatever it is," Geralt pleaded. 

"You're not going to believe me because I don't believe it myself. But there's no curse! Or, at least, I don't think so, and he's so big and-"

Jaskier's scream interrupted Eskel's rambling. Both men jumped when he screamed again and fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. It was ripping him apart, right down the middle! He sobbed, he didn't want to die. He wanted to stay with Geralt and his family.

When the wave of pain passed and Jaskier was still alive, he cried once more in relief. He wiped the tears from his eyes and realized that everyone was in the entrance hall with him, talking at once. Ciri stood by the stairs, a fist pressed against her mouth, as she watched him. 

"We have to move him, he can't stay here. It's too cold!"

"Eskel, do something!"

"There's nothing I can do! It's not magical, it's not a curse. The best thing I can do is try and find something to help him."

"Someone go upstairs and see if Coën is close by."

"Vesemir, is he dying? Fuck, he is dying," Geralt, Geralt's desperate, pain heavy voice tugged at him, made him want to comfort him. Their bond felt muted. As if the pain clouded the intensity of their connection, and he was glad. He didn't want Geralt to experience this.

Jaskier opened his eyes and found his mate's devastated gaze. They were both kneeling on the icy stone floor. His beautiful golden orbs were overflowing with tears. Someone patted his forehead with something soft. Vesemir. He dabbed at his sweaty brow again with a clean piece of cloth.

"We're going to take you to your room, son," He said in a gentle tone. Jaskier nodded tiredly. 

Geralt gathered him in his arms and went upstairs. Lambert and Eskel were gone and Ciri followed the small group to his room. Geralt laid him down on the bed, while Ciri fluffed his pillows and Vesemir tucked him in.

Finished, the three of them stared down at him.

"How are you feeling?" Geralt sat next to him on the bed and held his hand. 

"The pain comes and goes. But it's coming faster. Geralt, I'm scared," he leaned his forehead into Geralt's strong hand and felt a tremor run throughout his mate. 

"I just want to know what this is. Why is this happening to you?" Geralt leaned down to kiss Jaskier's forehead. 

"Ciri, tell Eskel to make himself useful and get a healer here through whatever means necessary," Vesemir commanded the girl. She glanced at Jaskier once more before leaving.

As soon as she left, another thunderous wave of pain split his body in half. Jaskier threw his head back and screamed until his throat was raw. Instinctually, he spread his legs underneath the covers to ease the weight on his hips. He felt a powerful urge to push down on something, but the mass on his stomach felt so heavy and he was so weak, so tired. He just wanted to sleep.

"Geralt, be strong," Vesemir said. 

"What's wrong with him? He's in so much pain," Geralt sobbed. 

Jaskier struggled to open his eyes. The brightness of the candles made him flinch, so he kept them closed. He wasn't sure how much time passed when he felt a strong cramp in his lower belly. It felt different from the waves of pain. Weaker, more targeted, darker. He began to pant, his breathing quickened, he sensed death around him. Something was in trouble, and it needed his help. 

Wild blue eyes looked for Geralt. "Something is wrong," he wailed. "Something is wrong," he repeated and doubled over his belly. "Something is wrong. I'm dying, we're dying," he didn't know what he was saying anymore, just wanted it all to stop. 

"Siren, help is coming! Just hang in there!"

"Son, you're going to survive this, be brave!"

Hands on his forehead and someone holding his hand. He whimpered when he felt something warm and sticky wet his lower body. 

"Geralt!"

"Where is all that blood coming from!"

"There's too much!"

He started screaming when the strongest wave of pain crashed into him. 

--

"Wish there was a way to bring the carriage up here," Colette grunted as she climbed the section of the Killer that led to the Kaer Morhen. 

She held onto Papa's gloved hand and Coën's calloused one as the two supernaturally strong men helped her up the last section. Then, she let go of them to dust off her navy skirt.

"Agreed. It would be nice to arrive in style one day," Papa grinned as he fixed his all black suit. 

"Add it to the renovation list. I'm sure Jaskier would agree," Coën took up her father's freed hand as they walked the rest of the way. 

"Speaking of, I missed Jaskier quite a bit and I know you did, too, angel. We should invite him and Geralt to stay in Kovir for the summer," Papa suggested. 

"Wonderful idea! They can come for the wedding," she held up her left hand and watched the diamond glitter in the moonlight. "We can invite everyone else, too." She dropped her hand when she saw a familiar redhead run towards them. As he got closer, she felt a chill that had nothing to do with the cold weather at the panic and fear etched on his face. 

"Lambert?" She said when he ran right to her and grabbed her arm. 

"It's Jaskier, he's dying. Blood everywhere," the redhead panted. She didn't resist and tried her best to keep up with his long strides as they ran to the keep. Coën and Papa right on their heels. 

As soon as she entered Kaer Morhen, she could hear anguished, tormented screams. 

Lambert led them to Jaskier's bedroom where Jaskier lay withering in pain, coated in sweat. His belly was huge, obscenely so, and blood pooled between his legs, bleeding into the sheets. The air was heavy with blood, sweat, and tears. 

Geralt and Vesemir stood beside him in tears. Seeing Colette, Geralt stumbled towards her and grabbed her hand. 

"Help him, please, help him," he pleaded hoarsely. 

Her eyes filled with tears at the agony in his voice and eyes, but she knew that her tears wouldn't solve anything. She hardened her heart and nodded. She turned to the group and said, "I need everyone but Geralt to leave this room. Wait outside. Papa, I need my bag," her father handed the bag to her, unable to take his eyes off Jaskier's tormented form until Coën grabbed his arm.

When everyone left, Colette went to the basin and washed her hands with soap. She slipped her ring into her pocket. "Tell me everything," she commanded. 

Haltingly, Geralt recounted of the changes Jaskier had been through since March. She pressed her hand to Jaskier's sweaty forehead, he didn't have a fever, but from the dilated and unfocused pupils, he was in a world of pain and unresponsive. His pulse was weak. Gently, Colette laid her hands on his stomach as she listened to the Witcher. It was incredible, it felt like a ... 

"Everything you describe sounds like a pregnancy," she said and peeled back the bloody sheets. She struggled to contain her emotions when she saw the amount of blood on the bed, some dripped on the floor. It seemed to have slowed, though. Only a small amount of it looked fresh.

"That's impossible. He's a man. I'm sterile," Geralt growled. "I need a real answer! He's dying!"

Colette slid off his bloody pants. "Get me some clean towels," she said without taking her eyes off Jaskier's body. Slowly, she parted his legs. She hadn't seen many men naked, but his genitals looked normal, so where was the blood coming from? Right behind the testicles, she saw it. 

"Towels!" She yelled and someone placed them in her hand. She cleaned up the blood to the best of her abilities and saw what she never thought was possible. Behind his testicles and before his anus, was an opening. It was slowly seeping blood. She pressed her fingers inside the new entrance and measured its width in the ways her mentor had taught her. She never thought she would be using this on a man. He was almost fully dilated but not enough. She pressed deeper and felt something hard. 

The baby! She pulled her hand out, cleaned her fingers, and flung open her bag. She pulled out her brand new pinard horn and pressed the open, horn-shaped part to Jaskier's belly. She had to move it around twice, but she heard it. A heartbeat. Still strong but slower than she would like. A baby's heartbeat. In a man's body. She sat back. She tried to collect her thoughts and come up with an action plan. 

"Colette, what is it?" Geralt asked in a pleading tone.

She jerked, she'd forgotten he was there. She bit her lip and looked at Jaskier. She was worried, he seemed so dazed and lifeless. If he couldn't push, then she would have to do a cesarian, and she had never done one herself. What if she hurt him? Killed the baby? 

"Colette! Please!" Geralt shook her arm.

"Sorry, sorry! Is Eskel here?"

He blinked, "I think he's researching."

"Give me a minute," she held up her finger and flung the door open. Several hopeful eyes met hers. Everyone huddled on the floor of the small landing, but she focused on the young, blonde girl sitting closest to the door, "Ciri, run down to Eskel-"

"I'm right here," he stood up. "And I think I have what you want," he lifted a small wooden case. 

"Excellent. Come in, you're going to be my assistant," Eskel blanched at her words but bravely entered Jaskier's room. 

She closed the door again, despite the protests from outside, "Give him a small dose adrenaline and something for the bleeding. Smallest dose, please."

"Nothing for the pain?" Eskel asked as he pulled out two potions in clear vials.

"No, I need him awake and aware," she nodded and turned to a white as a sheet Geralt. "He is pregnant. I've confirmed it. I can hear the second heartbeat, and there's what I assume a birth canal between his testicles and his anus," she paused to take a deep breath. He staggered against the wall and clamped a hand over his mouth. She continued briskly, "It doesn't look good, Geralt. His body is weak, the birth canal isn't dilated enough, and the baby's heartbeat is fading. I'm not sure if the bleeding is normal, maybe it happened when the canal was made, but it's worrisome." She wanted to give the man a chance to think and digest, but she needed to work. Once she started, there was no going back. "If worse comes to worse, who do you want me to save, Jaskier or the baby?"

"Oh fuck, what? He's pregnant?" Geralt paced in a little circle between the wall and where Colette was standing. He looked sick and shaken.

"Geralt, focus!" Eskel snapped, placing the half empty vials back in his case. 

Geralt stopped and wrapped his arms around himself. "Jaskier. He needs to live. I didn't know, I swear I didn't know," he cried as he looked at his mate. "He's never going to forgive me," he whispered. 

"Eskel, wash your hands, please. Geralt, you, too," she tried to smile brightly when she noticed that Jaskier was trying to sit up. 

Good, he was awake and aware. He was going to wish he wasn't.

Chapter Text

The first thing Jaskier realized was that he was naked from the waist down with Eskel and Colette in the room. Despite the pain coursing through his body, he found it in him to blush and attempt to close his spread legs. 

"Nope, no, don't do that," the young healer placed her hands on his knees and pushed them apart. "What I'm going to tell you will shock you, but I need you to find the strength to do exactly what I say." 

He felt Geralt sit behind him and kissed him on his damp temple. 

"You're pregnant. Not sure how far along, until I see the baby, but this child is coming out. It's ready," she stared into his frozen, shocked face and continued, "You have a birth canal between your legs. That's great news, it means you are meant to have this baby naturally. Very good! But you're not fully dilated and the baby's heartbeat is slowing down."

"Colette, I'm a man, I can't be-" his voice broke, and he stared down at the massive mound on his belly. Everything clicked in his mind. Everything he's gone through, all the strange sensations over the past month. The pain from this night. "Oh gods, he's in there," he whispered and fell against Geralt's strong, unyielding chest. 

"Oh gods, oh fuck, I'm pregnant. How is this possible?" He cried out.

"Honestly, that doesn't matter right now. Your job right now is to deliver this baby," Colette said firmly.

"He's dying. You have to help him. I've killed my baby," he cried, his voice hoarse from all his screams. He felt, more than heard, Geralt whisper reassurances against his ear as he kissed him gently. 

Another wave of pain rolled over him and like before, he felt an overpowering urge to push. It was stronger, maybe because he finally understood what he had to do. He sat up, gripping Geralt's legs, ready to follow his body's commands and save his child when Colette yelled at him urgently, "Don't push yet! Resist! You're body is not ready."

He gritted his teeth and fought back against the urge. He saw Colette's hand disappear between his legs and felt a light pressure in a strange area. It didn't feel like his asshole. Something told him that he didn't want to know. He pushed those thoughts out of his head. All he wanted was this baby, alive and safe. 

"Less bleeding, you're almost ready! We'll push on the next contraction," she said happily. She took out a horn-like instrument and pressed it against his stomach. He squeezed Geralt's hand when she pulled away. "Baby is doing fine. He's hanging in there."

"He's alive?" Jaskier sobbed and collapsed into his mate's solid chest. "I can't fucking believe this. This is not suppose to happen."

"But it is, siren, it is," Geralt said faintly as if trying to convince himself. 

"Geralt, you have to let her do whatever she needs to do to save our baby. I don't matter. Cut me open and take him out, if you have to," Jaskier turned his pleading eyes to Colette. She looked away from visually examining his body and glanced at Geralt. 

"She'll do what she can for him, but you're my first concern. I'm sorry," Geralt repeated the last two words into Jaskier's hair. 

Jaskier closed his eyes and turned his head into Geralt's head and let more tears roll down his cheeks, "No, love, no. Take it back, please."

Lost in his grief and shock, he almost didn't notice when Eskel came back into the room, carrying towels, a bucket of steaming water, and a knife. He hadn't noticed when Eskel left. Eskel put down the towels and bucket near the bed and carried the knife to the fireplace where he fed the sharp blade to the flames. 

"Jaskier, pay attention. When you feel the next one, you push as hard as you can. The baby is already in position. If you feel like you're tearing, stop pushing. Understand?" Colette laid another towel between his legs.

"Holy fucking shit!" He yelled and bore down when the wave of pain hit him. He pushed down as hard as he could. 

"Stop pushing, you're tearing!" He ignored his healer's commands and kept pushing. 

"Jaskier, stop," Geralt growled. Finally, he stopped and dropped into his mate's arms, panting heavily. 

"I told you to stop! Now, you're bleeding again," Colette nodded to Eskel who pulled out the hot knife from the flames. He went over to his case and bent down to grab a potion from the case. 

"I don't matter," Jaskier panted. 

"Don't say that, you stupid bard," Geralt growled. 

"You need to listen to what I tell you. You barely have enough strength to do this, don't fight me or both of you will die," Colette's blue eyes shone fiercely as the first rays of the early morning began to fill the room.

Jaskier nodded repentantly. "It feels so weird," he shifted his legs and felt an immense pressure between his legs. He sipped half of the potion as instructed and handed it back just as another wave assailed him. 

"Push as hard as you can until I tell you to stop," Colette commanded. 

He followed her instructions and pushed, screams ripping his sore throat as something moved out of his body. 

"Stop! Stop now," Colette patted his knee approvingly when he followed her commands. He gritted his teeth as he denied his instincts to keep bearing down. "One more push should do it. The hardest part is over! The head is out." Eskel stood behind Colette, his eyes bulged out when he glanced down between Jaskier's legs.

"Is he... fuck, is he dead?" Jaskier used his shaky arms and Geralt's hard thighs to sit up. He didn't hear it cry. Weren't babies supposed to cry?

"It's still not over. The baby is good, he's a strong one," Colette was doing something between his legs that he couldn't see and didn't want to see. Geralt petted his damp hair with steady hands. 

Eskel managed to regain control his facial expressions as he watched Colette work. But sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his neck. 

Jaskier felt the now familiar wave once more, he was so tired, but he had to do this. He had to help his little baby. He tried his best, and pushed for what felt like an eternity. He yelled profanities as he felt something huge slip from his body. 

Then, cries. 

A baby's cries. 

"It's a boy!" Eskel was the one who said it.

Jaskier started crying, and he didn't think he would be able to stop. He couldn't believe what just happened to him. It was supposed to be impossible. 

He saw Colette pull out a wrinkly, sticky baby with a full head of white hair. The baby cried and waved his arms around. Jaskier automatically held his arms out, needing to feel his baby alive and safe in his arms, but the healer didn't surrender him. She carefully laid the small infant on top of a clean towel on a section of the bed.

"Geralt, get me my baby! He belongs to me," Jaskier hungrily stared at the unhappy infant as the healer cleaned his body with a clean, wet towel. She used the knife to cut some type of tube that came out from the baby's bellybutton. Jaskier moved forward to take the baby himself, but Geralt held him back with a hand on his shoulder.

"She's just examining him, beautiful. But he's perfect," Geralt whispered in his ear. 

Colette wrapped the baby in a another clean towel and placed him in Jaskier's arms.

"Just support his head, just like that. Good job, Dad," she smiled and let go of the baby completely. 

He sobbed harder when he felt that unfamiliar, light weight in his arms. The baby, on the other hand, quieted down as soon as he felt Jaskier's warmth. Light blue eyes stared up at his face. Geralt let Jaskier rest against the pillows and moved to sit besides him.

"I'm so sorry, little one. I had no idea you were with me. Oh shit, all the fucking things I did while you were with me," he kissed the tiny, impossibly small forehead, and breathed in his pure, fresh scent. "Don't worry, I'll do better."

He felt Colette press a towel to the wound between his legs. "He's bleeding quite a bit," she said worriedly. 

"I can't give him more of the potion, it'll cause blood clots," Eskel replied as he turned his attention from the baby back to the healer.

"I have no idea if he'll have an afterbirth," Colette said to Eskel, who gurgled a reply. "And I don't know if this new birth canal will close on its own."

But Jaskier didn't care about what was happening to him. He had his whole world in his arms and examined every inch of the small miracle. Ten perfect fingers, ten perfect toes. He marveled at the bit of nail on the tiny fingers, the slightly pursed pink lips, and the bit of eyelash on his almost translucent lids.

The baby started to fuss and cry a little, rubbing his face against Jaskier's chest. "He's crying, why he is crying?" He looked from an unresponsive, shocked Geralt to Colette. 

"Oh right, that might stimulate the afterbirth!" She exclaimed brightly. "See if you can breastfeed him."

He was going to say that he didn't have any breasts, but he shut his mouth and pulled down his oversized shirt. His chest did look a little puffy. Carefully, he brought the baby's pink mouth to his left nipple, and the infant latched on and began to suckle contentedly. He had a moment of disbelief that this was his life right now. This was his body. 

"He's got quiet an appetite," Colette grinned. "Sometimes, it's not easy to feed them."

"He's like his uncle Eskel," the scarred Witcher stated proudly. "Geralt, you look a little unsteady there."

Jaskier turned his head to see his mate collapse onto the floor. He sat up a little without disturbing the baby, " Shit, is he alright?"

Colette leaned down to prod the man with her index finger, "Just shock. This happens a lot more frequently than you think."

A knock on the door. 

"What's going on in there?" They heard Vesemir's concerned gruff voice.

"I'll go and shut them up," Eskel said. 

Colette nodded, "Yes, but don't tell them what happened yet. We are still not done here. Tell them Jaskier is fine."

Eskel went to the door, opened it a little, and delivered his message to the complaining, anxious group. Then, he went to help Geralt.

Jaskier felt the baby still sucking on his nipple, but he started to move his arms again and he scrunched his little face up into a frown. Jaskier's heart melted but he panicked when the baby released his nipple and started to cry. 

"Try the other one," Colette advised, looking concerned about something. "He might still be hungry."

Sure enough, Jaskier carefully switched him to the twin nipple, and the baby latched on with gusto. 

"Could be the Witcher blood in him, he'll probably need more nutrients than normal," Colette said thoughtfully. 

Jaskier was about to ask Eskel about Geralt when he felt a cramp on his lower belly. He gasped and pulled the baby closer to his chest. 

"Is there another one in there?" he trembled at the thought.

"No, it's just the afterbirth! Bear down a little, Jaskier," Colette opened his legs again. 

He felt a slight pressure in his lower belly and pushed lightly. This was so fucking weird.

"Excellent! I got it. Still some bleeding though," Colette wrapped something up more towels. "A little less," she bit her lip. "I'm going to stitch some of the internal wounds. Eskel?"

"What's happening?" Geralt asked the room in confusion when Eskel pulled him up by the hand.

"You're a father," the scarred Witcher ruffled his long silver hair. 

"Eskel, do you a potion or salve for preventing infections? Hand it over, please," Colette said, getting out her smallest needle from her bag. "Maybe something for pain, too."

"I-Oh shit," Geralt stared at the baby nestled in Jaskier's arms. He had stopped feeding and had fallen asleep just seconds ago. He was so handsome that Jaskier thought he looked like Geralt in the nose and cheeks.

"Geralt, come here and properly meet your son," Jaskier smiled tiredly at his Witcher.

--

Colette stepped into the landing area after she stitched up Jaskier to the best of her abilities, and the bleeding stopped. She observed the new family for a few minutes. Jaskier refused to let the baby leave the shelter from his arms, but Geralt seemed content to watch his mate and son bond and interact with each other. Now, it was time to deliver the news to everyone else. 

"What happened in there?"

"I thought I heard a baby?"

"Did Eskel turn Jaskier into a baby?"

"Why isn't Jaskier yelling? Is he alive?"

"Silence!" Eskel followed Colette and closed the door behind them. "We have some news."

"Jaskier and Geralt had a baby! It's a boy!" Colette clapped her hands excitedly. The group looked at each other in confusion. Ciri jumped in joy. Colette placed her hands on her hips. "Yes, somehow, Jaskier was pregnant, and yes, he's a man. The hows and whys are questions for another day. But I was there, Eskel was there, and we helped bring in another member into this family."

Vesemir leaned against the wall, clutching his chest, "Out of all the things in the world. By the gods," he whispered. 

Lambert turned so pale that she could see the faint traces of freckles on his nose and cheeks. 

Coën was so surprised that he had to lean against her Papa. And her Papa looked... pleased and excited. She caught him eyeing Coën's flat abdomen. 

"When can we see the baby?" Ciri asked. "I bet he's so cute!" 

Colette opened her mouth to answer when she heard Geralt yell for her. She turned back to the room and closed the door behind her, despite the complaints and demands from the group.

"What's wrong?" But she already saw the problem. Jaskier had passed out on the bed, the baby secure on his chest. Geralt kept his hands around the sleeping baby to make sure he stayed in place.

"He just closed his eyes, and he won't wake up. I can't do this," Geralt said the last part of himself but Colette focused her attention on him. 

"He'll be alright, Geralt. He's been through something that would have at the very least shocked most women, and he's a man! Plus, he's lost a lot of blood. His body has to heal," she laid her hand on his shoulder. Her small fingers looked almost childish against his burly form. "And you need time to come to terms with what happened, too. You almost saw your mate die."

"I put him in this situation. I should have known. How the fuck couldn't I see it? I'm supposed to protect him," he bowed his head over the sleeping infant. "I was so close to losing him, losing them both."

"Why don't both of you sleep? With the baby? I'll get one of the guys outside to help," even though she tried to say all the right things to Geralt, she was a little worried about the bard. There were so many things that could go wrong. He'd bled so much, too. Some more help would be nice, especially with the baby.

Geralt raised his head to stare at his sleeping son and mate and nodded. Colette left to rejoin the landing group. Eskel was closest to the door. He had his arms crossed and looked disgruntled. 

"I thought I was assisting," he said as soon as she walked out.

She smirked at him, "Only when you're useful." She turned to the larger group, "So, Geralt and Jaskier need someone to help with the baby while they sleep. Who has experience with babies?" She looked at the group expectantly. 

Ciri's hand shot up, the others looked stricken and panicked. "Ciri, you're too young, sorry."

Ciri's hand fell with a pout, "Girls my age are having their own babies."

"You better not follow in their footsteps, young lady," Vesemir said roughly. "We've had too many surprises in this keep already."

"Anyone?" The men looked at each other, but she saw that her Papa didn't answer her question. 

"Have any of you held a baby before?" Oh boy. Lambert scratched his chin, Eskel shrugged, Coën squinted in thought, Vesemir shook his head. Again, her Papa didn't answer.

"Unless toddlers count as babies," the old Witcher grunted. 

She sighed tiredly. She was going to crash, too, after having a good cry about all that happened today. "Have any of you seen a baby before?"

"They can't walk, right?" She couldn't tell if Lambert was joking or not. 

"I just saw one today," Eskel said proudly. 

Coën stood, "I have seen a baby before, does that mean I can see Jaskier's baby now?"

"Fine, you and Papa come," Colette waved them inside. 

"Hey, when can we see the little man?" She closed the door on Lambert's question.

Geralt picked up his head and smiled at Coën and Papa. "Hello gentlemen," he greeted them tiredly with reddened eyes and dark smudges underneath them. 

"Geralt, congratulations," Papa said tentatively, walking deeper into the room. 

The silver haired Witcher gazed at the sleeping baby and ran a trembling finger over his plump cheek. "Doesn't feel real," he rasped out.

"How's Jaskier?" Coën stared at the sleeping bard. 

Colette answered when Geralt looked at her, "He's going to fine. Just needs rest."

"And this is the baby?" Coën leaned down to touch a soft little fist with his index finger. "He's gorgeous," he said in wonder. 

"Geralt, it's time for you to sleep," Colette put on her best I'm-a-healer-and-know-better-than-you voice. "Papa and Coën, help me change the sheets."

"We should clean up Jaskier as well," Papa sniffed the air, "He's covered in blood."

Unsurprisingly for Colette, it was Papa who ever so carefully removed the baby from Jaskier's weak grip. He expertly cradled the baby in one arm and carried a tender yet anguished expression whenever he looked down at him. Ever since her father confessed his true origins to Colette, she kept finding out interesting things about him.

"Seems like you know what your doing," Geralt nodded to his handling of the baby, maybe a little enviously. He groaned when he lifted his body up to help with the cleaning efforts.  

"My father had many wives and concubines. Some of them had human children of their own," he said in a gentle voice as he stared at the sleeping baby. She knew his vampiric father had been the devil personified, who treated his women and their children harshly. She wondered what terrible memories were going through his head. 

In silence, the small group did all their tasks. Papa looked after the baby, Coën used some of the leftover towels to clean Jaskier with soap and water, and Geralt disposed of the used towels in the fireplace and changed the sheets. Colette examined Jaskier's body, looking for signs of distress. He looked tired and a little wane but color was slowly flooding his cheeks and his breathing was regular. 

Her infinite respect and appreciation for Coën rose when he reached Jaskier's intimate area and didn't bat an eyelash at all the blood and the healing birth canal. He gentled his already careful movements and continued. 

When he was done, he placed Jaskier on his side with his arms extended and tucked a clean, thick blanket around him.

"Wait, angel," Papa leaned over Jaskier's sleeping form and placed the baby in his outstretched arms. They watched the new father instinctually cuddler the infant closer to his body. Coën retucked the blanket smugly around father and son. 

"C'mon, Harlan, we have another baby to tuck in," Coën teasingly said and nudged a tilting Colette. She blinked herself awake. 

"Haha, I'm twenty-three, not a baby," she yawned. 

"No, Coën's right, to bed with you," Papa said with a tender, proud smile that made her feel seven feet tall. 

"Before you go," Geralt walked over to Colette and hugged her tightly. "He only wanted you, you know. He didn't want anyone else to help him," he said. "And he was right. I can't imagine anyone else doing what you did." His words forced her to blink rapidly to avoid balling in front her patient and his mate. 

She cleared her throat, "I'm glad I was here."

With that, the two of them left. Coën stayed behind in case the mated couple or baby needed something. Papa said he would come by later and trade places with the Witcher. The landing group had dispersed, and the keep turned quiet and peaceful. She could hear the birds chirping outside and the sun was gloriously bright. 

In her designated room at Kaer Morhen, she cried into her father's arms. She cried in fear of what could have happened had she arrived only an hour later. She cried in relief that those two souls were still alive and well, despite her lack of experience. She cried for Geralt and his sincere gratitude . 

Chapter Text

When Geralt woke up the next morning, he briefly forgot yesterday's events. He stretched languidly in his bed and wondered if he could sneak in a quickie with Jaskier before breakfast and training. He turned around to see a white haired baby in his mate's arms. Geralt stared at them dumbly for a few minutes, wondering who's baby that was. Then, he remembered. He'd seen that baby come out of his Jaskier's body, and the baby's parentage had been clear with his unusual coloring.

He had a son. 

"Geralt," his eyes snapped up to meet tired blue eyes. Jaskier was awake.

"Siren, how do you feel?" He whispered, not wanting to awaken the baby between them.

"Like I grew a second hole in my ass," Jaskier chuckled weakly, then his blue eyes went down. Geralt watched with fascination as his eyes warmed, and he dragged himself closer to the infant. "Hey little one," he whispered. 

"Fuck, how did we make that, Jaskier?" The baby was much too cute and innocent to belong to a Witcher like Geralt. 

"Fuck if I know," he said tenderly as he ran a single finger down a tiny, plump cheek. "I guess we shouldn't curse around him. Wouldn't want his first word to be 'fuck' or 'shit,' right?"

Geralt's head spun. They actually had to raise this small being into some type of reasonable adult. It wasn't like Ciri, who had been twelve and only a few years away from adulthood, when she came to live with him. This was a baby- breakable, impressionable, and too young.

"Are you going to faint again?" Jaskier asked with an amused lit to his voice.

"Trying not to," he replied faintly. "Jaskier, isn't this too much? We can't-"

"We'll take it one day at a time, Geralt." His mate smiled at him lovingly and reached across the baby to caress the side of his face. "I love you so much. You took such good care of us, love."

Geralt's eyes stung with tears. His gaze drifted down to the infant with his pursed pink lips and tiny clenched fists. "I didn't know, Jaskier. If I knew..." Fuck, what would he'd done if he'd known that Jaskier was pregnant? He wouldn't have let Jaskier take one foot out of the protection of Kaer Morhen, he'd have waited on his mate hand and foot, he'd- he would have pleaded for Jaskier to get rid of it. 

"You're thinking too much again," Jaskier sighed. "We can't change the past, only forge ahead and hope for a better future."

Despite his dark thoughts, Geralt smirked, "Where's that silly, air-headed Bard who followed me on a hunt to find a devil?"

Jaskier rolled his eyes and ran the tip of his finger along the baby's features. "I met a man, got married, and had a baby." He blinked and paused, turning back to Geralt. "Said like that, it doesn't sound very complicated, does it?"

"Hm," Geralt started when the baby began to twist his head from side to side. He opened his small mouth and emitted a pitiful cry. Geralt felt a rush of adrenaline, he would crush with his bare hands whatever made his son cry like that. Then, his nose twitched. 

"Um, I'll leave that to you?" Geralt sat up.

"What? I don't know how to change him!" Jaskier looked so helplessly distressed that Geralt had to solve the problem for him. 

"I'll call Harlan." 

Half an hour later, the baby was cleaned and changed. Geralt called Harlan to show them how to change a baby and bless him, the vampire guided them through the arduous, and stinky, process. When his child was cleaned and no longer crying, Geralt puffed out his chest, even though Harlan had done most of the work. Coën came by to coo at the baby and Jaskier in equal measures, but Geralt ushered him and his mate out when Jaskier pointedly glanced at the door and at him. 

"Thanks," he said when he lowered his shirt, and the baby latched onto a puckered nipple. Geralt watched with intense fascination and some arousal. He wondered when it was his turn to taste his mate's milk.

Jaskier smirked, sensing the turn of his thoughts, then looked down at the suckling baby. "F- this is so weird. I keep thinking, I'm a man, I can't do this, but here I am."

"Here we are. We are in this together," Geralt slid his hand into Jaskier's and together, they watched over their child.

"Hello!" A cheerful feminine voice and a gentle knock disturbed the brief quiet. Colette entered the room with a wide smile. She closed the door behind her. 

"Hi!" Jaskier beamed at her, and Geralt nodded.

"I'm here to check on you and the baby. Oh, and don't forget to burp him after feeding," she added. 

"Oh," Jaskier blinked. "I have so much to learn about babies. I never really paid attention to them. I always thought they were rather ugly, except for this little one, of course." He kissed the baby's cheek.

Geralt nodded in agreement. Most babies looked like tiny, deformed drowners, without claws, but his son was the most handsome baby he'd ever seen with his red cheeks, pretty blue eyes, full head of silver-white hair, and a tiny button nose.

"He is a cute little baby, so handsome like his fathers," she cooed when the baby finished. She instructed Jaskier how to burp him and watched him do it. The flush of success reddened his cheeks when the baby burped over his shoulder. "Good job!" Colette clapped her hands. "Now, hand the baby over to Geralt, so I can check your, uh, healing area."

Jaskier turned to a frozen Geralt. Eyes wide, he held out his arms, and Jaskier carefully laid the baby in them. He felt so light and impossibly small. In his muscular arms, the baby looked like a miniature toy.

"Yes, good, support the neck, Geralt! Good work!" Colette sighed and stared at the two of them. "You two are going to be excellent parents."

Jaskier gazed up at him with a wide smile. Geralt tried to smile back, but he knew there was more to parenting than just being able to carry and change the baby. 

After the exam, Colette had great news for them. "You're healing very well. The birth canal is almost completely closed," she said happily and closed a blushing Jaskier's legs. "That Witcher enhanced healing came in handy."

Geralt carefully rocked the wiggling baby, "Do you know how this could have happened?"

"Eskel, Coën, and I are going to study all the books the keep has on Consorts and Witchers. Hopefully, we'll have answers for everyone," she said and moved to the door. "Speaking of everyone, they are anxious to meet the baby."

"I guess we could let them in," Jaskier said brightly. 

Lambert and Ciri must have right outside the door because they dashed in as soon as Colette left. 

"I'm here to meet my little brother!" The girl said excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

Geralt's heart melted at the joy and love on her face. "Come here, then," he said and lowered himself slightly, so the girl could see the baby. 

"Wow, he's so cute!" She squealed. The baby reached out to touch her curly hair.

"I think he likes you," Jaskier smiled, sitting up in the bed.

"That's a real baby!" Lambert finally said when he neared Geralt. 

Geralt rolled his eyes. "What else would it be, Lambert?"

"A real baby was inside Jaskier, a man," he continued with wide, golden eyes and raised eyebrows.

"I told you," Ciri said smugly. 

"Yeah, you did," Geralt chuckled sheepishly. They could have saved themselves some trouble if they'd believed Ciri.

"Do you want to hold him?" It was Jaskier who asked the pair. He nodded when Geralt shot him a glance. He sensed pride coming his mate. 

Ciri and Lambert nodded, the male Witcher with a little more hesitancy but still very enthusiastic. Geralt told Ciri to sit in a chair, and he carefully transferred the baby to the girl's arms, instructing her to hold its head. The baby reached for her hair one more time, so Geralt brushed them back. 

"Wow, he's so small!" She said with awe.

"He looks like a fighter," Lambert playfully put his fist up to the baby's face. "Give me your best punch, little man. C'mon!" 

"That's silly, babies can't fight," Ciri retorted with an attitude loaded look. 

"This one can! What a grip!" Lambert cried out dramatically when the baby laid his miniature hand over his fist.

"Maybe he'll be a musician, not a fighter," Jaskier said with a smile. "A famous lute player, like his father."

Geralt shrugged, "I don't care what he does as long as he's happy doing it."

"Well, it's my turn, isn't it?" Lambert asked eagerly.

Geralt took back the baby with painstaking slowness and transferred him into Lambert's arms. Despite his previous enthusiasm, Lambert looked scared to death once Geralt pulled his hands back. The baby stared up at him curiously. 

"Wow," he said lowly. "A baby. Geralt, you have a baby! And it's obviously yours," he nodded to the baby's uniquely colored hair.

Ciri went to sit on the bed with Jaskier, so Geralt whispered to Lambert, "I'm scared, Lambert. You have no idea. We aren't meant to be fathers."

"Who the fuck even knows that we're supposed to do anymore, Geralt!" Lambert whispered fiercely back, staring down at the baby now reaching for his medallion. "This changes everything! We could have families. I could have a family one day." He smiled dreamily at the baby. "I just need to find my Consort."

Geralt understood. Out of all of them, Lambert had been the angriest with the cold, sterile life of a Witcher. He never spoke to Geralt about his secret desires, but Lambert always acted more ferociously if hunts involved children.

"Ciri, Vesemir says that you shouldn't forget your studies," Colette poked her head into the room.

"I just got a baby brother, can't I take the day off?" Ciri asked with a pout.

Jaskier laughed, Geralt smiled at the light and carefree sound, "You know how he is."

"You're doing a good job with the baby," Colette praised, walking closer to the men huddled around the infant.

Lambert straightened his back and pulled the baby closer. "Really?"

"Yes, you look like a natural," the young healer said with small smile.

Geralt barely refrained himself from scoffing. Lambert didn't look better than he did at holding the baby. At that moment, the infant started crying when he couldn't reach Lambert's medallion.

"Oh, what's happening?" Lambert didn't move a muscle as the baby continued to fuss. 

"Maybe he wants to go back to Daddy," Jaskier held his arms out, and Lambert stared at Geralt helplessly. 

Geralt painstakingly took the baby back and placed it in Jaskier's waiting arms. Lambert gave him an impressed look, Colette a thumbs up.

"So, have you two thought about names? Because I think Lambert sounds like an excellent idea!" The redhead said with a wide grin. Colette giggled. 

"We haven't thought of anything," his mate shrugged. "We'll add that to the list of things to figure out," Jaskier said, looking at Geralt.

"Hm," the Witcher nodded.

--

A few hours later, Eskel and Lambert had a very serious conversation while in Lambert's makeshift workshop.

"Do you think Harlan is pregnant?" The redhead asked as he sanded the wood in his hand carefully. 

Eskel turned from the large piece of wood he was cutting. "What? Did you hear something?"

Lambert shrugged and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his arm, "No, but anyone with a mate can get pregnant, now. It doesn't matter if they be man, woman, or vampire."

Eskel scoffed and returned to his work, "No, I don't think Harlan is pregnant. Besides, he wouldn't be the one with the baby."

"Huh, what do you mean?" Lambert checked his work critically. 

"You're so innocent, Lam-Lam," Eskel laughed when Lambert gave him the finger. "Coën is the one who takes it."

"Takes what?" Lambert frowned. 

"Takes it. In the ass," Eskel growled exasperatedly.

The redheaded stopped working and stared at his fellow Witcher, "But he's a Witcher! What about his Heats?" He'd never heard of a Witcher with the drive to get fucked, not fuck.

Eskel shrugged, "I think he still takes it. He likes it like that."

Lambert thought about it for a few seconds, then shook his head dismissively. That wasn't the weirdest thing that happened at Kaer Morhen. "So then, it's Coën who might get pregnant."

Silence.

"I would pay good money to see that," Eskel said. Then, he groaned, "This crib is going to look strange!"

"I'm doing great on my end," Lambert continued sanding. 

"Asshole," Eskel grumbled.

--

A large, hulking figure entered a tent in the middle of the night. Healer Rix was wiping his hands on a damp cloth when he felt a chill touch the back of his neck. 

"I'm closed. Come back tomorrow," he said without turning around. He flinched when he felt the sharp point of a blade press against his back.

"Watch how you talk to me, human," a gruff, gravely voice spoke. 

"Who are you? What do you want?" He trembled as he raised his hands.

"I'm looking for a rare beast, a vampire. I heard you spoke to the Witcher who might know of its whereabouts." A hand on his shoulder, which felt more like a paw, turned him around. The man before him was a huge monster of a man with a full black beard and a bear medallion around his neck. Healer Rix whimpered, a Witcher.

"Y-you mean, Geralt of Rivia?" He stammered, the short dagger close to his neck now.

"Geralt of Rivia, a Witcher with a famous title," the stranger mocked. "What was he here for?"

Healer Rix remembered his panicking companion. 

"He came with a man, the man had something in his stomach." That something intrigued Healer Rix, he was still thinking about it.

The Bear Witcher cocked his head to the side, "Something in his stomach? How close was this man to Geralt?"

Healer Rix swallowed, hoping he would see the light of the next day. "Very close. I think they were lovers. They've been together for years." He supplied eagerly.

The Bear Witcher smirked and suddenly pulled him close, wrapping his arm around his shoulders in a parody of comradeship. "What do you think was in there? In his stomach?" He said conspiratorially, as if they were sharing a juicy piece of gossip. 

Healer Rix licked his dry lips, he thought about the movements he'd felt. "It felt similar to a pregnant woman." Not hearing laughter or derision, he continued, "If I had to guess, he was with child."

The Bear Witcher paused. "A pregnant man? That's impossible," he said softly.

"Nothing's impossible, Witcher. I know what I felt on that man's body," he said eagerly. "That's why I wanted to cut him open and see what it was. I wanted to be the first doctor to make this discovery." 

"And where did this modern marvel head off to with Geralt?"

"I heard they were on the way back to Kaer Morhen. If you find them, let me operate on the man, I want-" He gurgled, blood trickling down his chin. 

The Bear Witcher watched impassively as his body fell on the floor. "Human greed has no bounds," he whispered over the twitching, bleeding body. "Looks like I have a lot of work to do," he smirked. 

Chapter Text

A week later, Jaskier settled into a routine. He got up with the baby, fed him, took care of his own needs, then tried to survive each day without having a nervous breakdown. Everyday, his body got stronger, so he felt closer to being his usual self. Everyday, his mind worried endlessly about everything, so he felt like he was walking a fine line and that at any moment he was going to fall. 

What the fuck did he or Geralt know about being parents? Nothing, zlip, fucking nothing! Jaskier couldn't remember the last time he'd even held a baby and now he had to raise his own. He loved his little baby with his whole heart, more than what he thought was possible. It was a visceral love that was different, and even deeper, from the love he had for Geralt. There wasn't anything that he wouldn't do for the little infant he'd unknowingly carried for several months. And that was problem. He had no idea what to do or not to do. Everyday was new adventure in parenthood.

On this third day of being alive, the baby drank milk with gusto from his chest (which though puffy, was still very flat!), and Jaskier admired the fine, white hair on his head. With a gentle smile, he ran a hand over his tiny head and mentally marveled at how unique and beautiful his baby was! He was so handsome and grew so fast. He was going to be just like his father. 

Like his father...

Geralt was a mutant with special abilities and could do really amazing feats. His baby was a half mutant who would probably do really amazing things one day. Was he getting enough nutrients? Was his "chest" milk enough for such a special baby? Was he accidentally starving him?

With wide, panicked eyes, he examined the content looking baby with his chubby, rosy cheeks. Baby let go of the puckered nipple and made a noise that Jaskier now understood meant he was ready for more. He switched the kid to the other side and watched him latch on. 

"You'll tell me if you need more than this, right?" He asked the infant. The baby gurgled and slapped his chest. 

What if Baby needed special Witcher stuff to be healthy? He asked Geralt who stared at him like he'd grown another head. Or, grown another hole between his asshole and his dick. Been there, done that, not fun.

"No, there are no special Witcher stuff to feed the baby," he replied in his usual gruff manner as he folded the various pieces of cloth he and Vesemir scoured the fortress for, then cleaned thoroughly.

Jaskier asked Colette just to be sure. She ended up giving him a lecture on how his body produced all the nutrients necessary for the baby to be healthy and thriving. Her theory, if his body could open and heal a birth canal, it can make breastmilk good enough for a mutant baby. All that was great to hear, but Jaskier mentally cried as he felt further emasculated when his healer threw out words like "breasts" and "milk ducts."

That anxiety solved, another quickly took its place. Whenever the baby started crying, he freaked out. He relaxed once he solved the baby's complaint, but each cry brought a fresh wave of adrenaline. Baby was usually a very calm baby, kind of like Geralt. If he was fed and clean, he was content to stare at the world with his large, serious eyes. Two days after his chestmilk fiasco, baby wouldn't stop crying. 

"He's dying, Geralt," he tearfully told his mate as he tiredly rocked the squirming infant. Baby stared up at his father with wet, cerulean blue eyes. Jaskier imagined that they were reproaching him for his lack of parenting skills. "He's sick, and he's going to die. Because of something I did when he was inside me," he still couldn't admit that he was pregnant. 

Geralt left their bed and padded to them. He laid a cool, gentle hand on Jaskier's cheek, which he leaned into with a small sob, and sniffed at the crying baby. "I think I know what's wrong." He undid one of the many blankets Jaskier had wrapped tightly around the child. Cooler, the baby stopped crying and cooed at his fathers. 

"But it's cold tonight! We're in one of the coldest months of the winter," he complained as he brought the baby up his eye level. "We live in a castle! It's freezing here." He told the baby as sternly as he could. The baby reached for his noise curiously, and he kissed its tiny, warm palm. 

"He's a Witcher. We run cooler and like it that way," he gestured to his shirtless upper body. 

"Yeah, me too," Jaskier agreed faintly as he watched the light from the roaring flames dance along the curves of Geralt's muscles. 

"You know, we have plenty of babysitters. We could spend a night together, alone," Geralt whispered several minutes later as the baby slumbered on his wide, naked chest, and Jaskier cuddled at his side. 

"Oh, and what do we need this night alone for?" Jaskier asked with a teasing smirk. "Is there some new gossip you want to tell me?"

"Yeah, I got something for you," he growled to his mate and carefully brought his head closer to give him a deep kiss.

Jaskier pulled back and laughed. It felt incredibly to know that his mate still desired him, even when he'd seen a baby come out of male body, and Jaskier still didn't feel like himself physically. "Ok, let's do that."

"Soon."

"After we name the baby," Jaskier agreed. 

Silence, except for the crackling of the flames, and the baby's gentle snores.

"Why are we bad at this? We can't keep calling him 'Baby'!" Jaskier lowered his voce when the baby twitched.

"Lambert's calling him 'Lambert Junior,'" Geralt chuckled. 

"He can be first on the babysitter list," Jaskier smiled and thought about the incredibility of their situation. "Can you believe this, Geralt? We're here, discussing baby names."

"No, I still find this all hard to believe," he said honestly. "And I worry about things all the time."

"Like what?" He knew Geralt had his fears, same as him, but Jaskier had been trapped by his own worries for so long that he sometimes forgot that Geralt saw things differently. 

"I worry about you. If you're ok, if you're truly healing. I worry about Baby and his future. The world is very cruel to Witchers, Jaskier," he laid a large hand on the baby's tiny back. "They're not going to accept someone like him. What if he gets hurt?"

Despite his words, Jaskier smiled faintly. Here he was, worried about the day-to-day, while Geralt worried about the big picture. What a pair they made. Then, he knew that if they kept trying for their child, Baby was going to be ok. 

"He has us and everyone else. He won't be alone, ever. As long as we're together, we'll be fine," he smiled brightly at his mate's more relaxed features. 

"You're right," he said softly. "We're not alone in this."

Jaskier nuzzled his cheek, breathing in his familiar, alluring scent. "We better sleep, we have Lambert's party tomorrow," Jaskier shivered and pulled up the thick, fur blanket up to his neck. Geralt groaned.

Lambert's "party" was more of an excuse to showoff the baby to the small group of people staying at the castle and to finally drink the barrels of wine he had stored in the cellar. Standing with Coën, Jaskier watched as Lambert slowly rocked the baby in front of Eskel and Colette. Eskel looked impressed at his new skills, while Colette couldn't stop smiling. 

It was hard to not have the baby with him, but Jaskier didn't want his child to grow up too dependent on anyone, even if his father was crying on the inside. In an effort to distract himself, he turned to Coën and asked, "You think they'll get together?" Jaskier nodded to Colette and Lambert.

His black eyes widened, and he leaned closer to Jaskier. "She's engaged."

Jaskier gasped, "No. With who? Is he a good man?"

Coën shrugged, "He seems like a good guy. Harlan and I told him that we were going to kill him if he acted like her last boyfriend." He took a sip of his drink. "This is good wine."

"Smells like good wine," Jaskier didn't know if alcohol affected his chestmilk, so he decided to stay away from it. Instead, he had to content himself with watching his friends drink. "So, what did he say to that?" 

"The usual. He was scared and agreed, many times," Coën rolled his eyes. "But I'm gutting him once he slips up. Then, I'll give Lambert the same chat with a demonstration," he smirked with a strange glint in his dark eyes.

Lambert carefully placed the sleeping baby on Vesemir's lap and loudly said, "On to the wine!" He rubbed his hands together and dashed for a barrel. 

Despite his previous assertions that he had little to do with babies, Vesemir deftly rocked the sleeping infant and cooed at him softly. 

"I heard him cry last night, was everything all right?" Coën asked as Jaskier smiled at his baby with his grandfather. 

"Oh, what? Yeah, he was just too hot. Scared me when he wouldn't stop," Jaskier admitted. "This is the scariest thing I've ever done, Coën. Having this baby."

"If you could talk to yourself from a year ago, would you try to prevent it?" Coën nodded towards Vesemir who settled back in his chair and cradled the baby with his large, bulky arms. The older Witcher closed his eyes and sighed. 

Jaskier immediately responded, "No. I'm so scared, I can't take a breath sometimes, but I don't regret this."

"Ah," Coën nodded thoughtfully. 

Jaskier glanced at his friend's pensive profile and was ready to ask his own personal question when Eskel waved him over.

"Jaskier! Look, we made you something!" The usually mellow Witcher was waving at him eagerly with a wide smile on his scarred face. 

"It's for Geralt, too," Lambert said. He drowned his drink before setting it down. He and Eskel disappeared behind a closed door near the main hall. 

"What is it?" Geralt asked as he, Harlan, and Ciri approached. 

"Lambert and Eskel have some kind of surprise. Who won the game?" He asked his mate with a teasing grin. Geralt scowled at him. 

"I don't know how she got so good," he muttered. 

"I won again!" Ciri confirmed in case anyone in the small group had a doubt. 

"You'll be the best Gwent player in the country if you keep it up," Harlan said with a gentle smile. Then, his eyes widened as he stared at something behind Jaskier. "Oh, that's lovely!"

Jaskier turned around to see Lambert and Eskel carrying something large and wooden between the two of them. When they placed it on the floor of the main hall and stepped back, Jaskier saw that it was a crib. The most beautiful one he'd ever seen. It had elaborate, intricate designs craved into the golden wood and clean, soft bedding carefully laid on the small bed. This must have taken them hours of hard work. Jaskier blamed the left over hormones for the tears prickling his eyes. 

"Wow," he said hoarsely, then cleared his throat. He looked back at Geralt who was smiling softly at his two brothers. "This is amazing! I love it." Geralt nodded. 

Lambert kicked something on the floor and scratched the back of his neck. Eskel shrugged and looked away. 

"It was Lambert's idea. I just helped," Eskel muttered. 

"We just threw it together," Lambert said at almost the same time. 

Jaskier smiled again and stepped forward to hug Lambert tightly. The other Witcher froze at first, then slowly relaxed and patted him on the back. When Jaskier pulled away, his cheeks were red but a pleased smiled lit his face. 

Eskel raised a hand when Jaskier neared him with outstretched arms. "Not necessary, I just carried somethings."

"Shut up," Jaskier said as he firmly hugged the large, embarrassed Witcher. He rubbed his eyes when he pulled away. 

"Thank you," Geralt said seriously as he clapped them on the shoulders. 

"Since you're all here, now it's a good time to reveal the baby's name," Jaskier said after everyone had a chance to marvel at the crib and embarrass Lambert and Eskel further. 

"Yes!" Ciri raised a fist in the air. 

Vesemir carefully stood up with the baby and neared the small group. Geralt took the sleeping child from Vesemir's arms and rocked him gently. 

"How long does it take to decide if it's Lambert Junior or Little Lambert?" The redheaded Witcher asked with a playful huff.

"But there's already a little Lambert," Eskel nodded to Lambert's crotch when Ciri's head was turned away. They all laughed, while the girl looked from adult to adult in confusion. 

"It's not Lambert Junior," Jaskier chuckled, his heart beating faster at the warmth and light that filled Kaer Morhen. "We decided to go with... Geralt, you say it."

"Conri," he said tenderly, staring at the sleeping boy.

"That's perfect!" Ciri sighed dreamily. "Hi, Conri," she whispered as she ran a finger down his closed fist. 

"That's a great name. Means wolf king," Coën said as he leaned back against his mate, and Harlan nuzzled his neck lovingly.

"It's not Lambert, but I'll take it," he rolled his eyes in exaggeration, but the smile stayed on his face.

"Welcome to the pack, little Conri," Geralt whispered when his son opened his blue eyes.

Chapter Text

Two Months Later

Eskel breathed in the cold mountain air as he surveyed the area. The snow covered land looked peaceful and still, even the wind wasn't making a sound. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard to hear the sounds of his pack, his family, inside the castle. He could hear Jaskier and little Conri playing some type of game, but the other sounds faded into a calm, soothing background. 

If anyone had told him a few years ago, that he would be standing watch for a group of people, some of whom were human and one was a baby, and ready to die for each and everyone of them, he would have laughed in their face. It was hard for people to accept him. They easily spotted that he was a witcher from the scars on his face, or thought he was some ferocious warrior and rejected him. Unlike Geralt, he didn't have the classically handsome good looks that led to a young bard falling in love with him and him becoming the famous White Wolf.

Not that Eskel wanted any of that. Seriously, he didn't. He was content that his heats had faded, he was happy to be alone, save for the occasional prostitute who charged him extra for his face, and he was definitely happy to be a relatively unknown Witcher, wandering the country side. Unlike Lambert, Eskel didn't aspire to more. He'd accepted his lot in life when his parents sold him, the youngest son, to an old Witcher because they had too many children. Somehow, he survived the Trials and became a Witcher himself. He was one of the few who wasn't acquired through the law of surprise. 

Eskel readied his smirk when he heard Lambert walk behind him. "How's the young lord?" He mockingly bowed to Lambert, causing the younger Witcher to hit on the head. 

"Shut up," he muttered, looking around carefully. They were standing on the second highest point at Kaer Morhen that overlooked the western side of the fortress, the opposite side of the Killer.

Eskel chuckled and examined the new outfit the redhead wore. Ever since they all discovered Jaskier was pregnant and had given birth to a beautiful baby, Lambert was like a new man. He styled his hair everyday, darkening the orange hues of his bright hair into a nice, fiery crimson, and he wore different, carefully mended shirts. Eskel thought that hope was a good look for his brother. 

"You know she's engaged?" He asked. 

Lambert scoffed. "Yes, I know. But she doesn't talk about her fiancé, and she's with me everyday. I can smell that she likes me," Lambert tapped the side of his nose. "I know I can win her over."

"Let's say you do, win her over. So, are you going to do it? Share your heat with her?" Eskel glanced in worry at Lambert's flinch. He hated his heats with a passion and was glad that they were over for him. No matter what Vesemir said.

"I have one more year to think about that," Lambert declared. "She can decide if she wants to share it with me or not."

"I hope it works out for you, brother," Eskel clapped him on the back. 

"Soon, it might be you and old Vesemir, the only bachelors," he laughed. 

"I'm sure we'll be fine," he smiled.

"But, uh, Eskel," Lambert asked nervous, scratching the back of his head, "You think whatever worked for Geralt and Jaskier could work for others?"

Eskel sighed. He didn't understand why Lambert wanted to mess with having children. In the short amount of time he'd known him, he'd grown to love Conri. There's nothing he wouldn't do for that little boy, same with Ciri and Jaskier and Harlan and Colette. But for that kid, Eskel would lay himself down for torture in an instant. But children were a huge responsibility. And they would be half Witcher babies. What the fuck did that even mean? And no one, save him and Colette, had seen that huge baby head come out of Jaskier's body. He shuddered. He wouldn't wish that on anyone, man or woman.

"Like we told you all, Colette, Coën, and I searched all the books. Nothing about pregnancies or babies. Just weird things about procreating that could be interpreted very loosely," he summarized what he'd learned so far. "All we know is that Jaskier experienced his own 'heat' and his scent changed. Geralt, like the dummy he is, knocked him up."

Both of them rolled their eyes at Geralt's name. He loved his brother, but he always got himself into messes. Been like that since Vesemir picked him up as a little kid.

"Kid's going to be a great fighter when he grows up," Lambert said dreamily. "Vesemir says he has a strong right hook."

Eskel snorted. "I agree with Jaskier. I see that kid doing something peaceful, like painting or playing an instrument." He hated to think of little Conri confined to the lonely, Witcher's path. The world was so cold and hostile towards them. A sweet baby like him didn't deserve that. 

"Only time will tell," Lambert clapped him on the shoulder before heading back into the castle. "Remember, you and Coën said you'd help me with updating the fireplaces." He called back before disappearing.

Eskel groaned. That promised to be a messy job. But Jaskier and Harlan got so happy whenever they renovated something, it would be worth it. Their pleased, comforting scents was one of the best rewards he could think of.  

Eskel stood outside for several more minutes before deciding to get some training in. Maybe he could work up a good sweat before Lambert dragged him to get dirty with soot and dirt. He turned his head away, intent on heading indoors, when he saw something move from the corner of his eye.

Hs body stilled, his eyesight became sharper and his sense of smell strengthened. There was someone, a stranger, on the path toward Kaer Morhen. Eskel let out a furious growl. There was an enemy on pack territory. 

He ran inside the castle and the first person he stumbled on was Coën. 

"There's an intruder, secure the castle. Protect Conri," he commanded as he ran down the stairs. 

Outside, he ran in the direction of the stranger, his lungs expanding with every stride and letting him go faster and faster. When he reached the area, he quieted his steps and his breathing. He sniffed around the perimeter, scenting an alien presence. He wanted to growl and destroy something with his bare hands. It made his skin crawl to know something was so close his den and the pup. 

When he heard footsteps crunching on the snow, he stilled and flattened himself onto his belly. The cold didn't bother him at all. When the footsteps were close enough, he attacked. 

"What-" A masculine voice shouted when he sprang up and tackled the stranger to the ground, baring his teeth in his face.

"Dios mio!" Wide, brown eyes stared up at him from a handsome, heart-shaped face. "I'm here to help, I promise!" The stranger held out his hands, palms open, and remained still. 

Eskel sniffed at the young looking stranger lightly. Then, he pressed his face against his neck and inhaled. 

"What the fuck," he whimpered. "I swear, I'm not trying to hurt you."

There was something interesting in the man's scent. Underneath the sour tinge of fear, he smelled light and buoyant with a dark, earthy undertone that enthralled Eskel. It reminded him of a glowing amber rock he'd seen a few years ago and fascinated him every since, one that had been filled with a secret, magical power. He had to destroy it because its magic had been too unstable.

"Can you even talk?"

Eskel suddenly came to himself. He was straddling the man around the waist and had his face buried in his neck. He sat up and stared down at him in shock. 

The man stared right back, then sighed in relief. "Good, you're a Witcher. I'm in the right place." The sour fear left the man's body, leaving behind only the faintly sweet, earthy amber smell.

"Who the fuck are you?" His voice sounded rougher than usual. Eskel got off the man and refused to lend a hand, gripping his forearms tightly, when the man groaned as he tried to get up. 

"The rumors of your strength isn't exaggerated," the young man said with a smile. He had two rows of straight white teeth, and his coat was thick and fine. This was a nobleman. 

"Who are you?" He repeated. He felt kind of disoriented. He wanted to attack but not this man. The fading adrenaline made his body tremble.

"My name is Sebastian de la Vega, and you're all in danger," he said seriously, his dark eyes somber. 

--

"You know, it's polite to give your name, too," Sebastian complained several minutes later as they climbed their way towards Kaer Morhen. Eskel dragged the man by his elbow, forcing him to follow his rapid pace, and refused to say more. After briefly interrogating the stranger, he determined that he'd been speaking the truth, and his heartbeat never fluctuated. "Wait, I can guess. Marcus? John? Ramasus? Ramon? Do you even speak Spanish? Je- Hey!" 

Eskel grunted under the wiggling, additional weight after he slung the man over his shoulder. He ran towards his destination, his cargo not affecting his sped. 

"You're so strong," Sebastian said in a dazed voice and stopped struggling. 

Eskel's nose twitched. He picked up a sweeter tinge of his natural amber scent. He gritted his teeth when he realized that the man was getting aroused. He pushed that aside and focused on reaching his destination. He slowed down when he sensed the other Witchers. Vesemir and Lambert were standing outside, weapons in hand, with their heads turned towards his direction.

"We've got a problem," he called out.

"Who's that?" Vesemir asked, pointing his sword at the stranger. "And how did he bypass the Killer?"

"Hello! I'm a friend, my name is Sebastian," the man waved from Eskel's back. 

Eskel rolled his eyes and placed the man on the ground carefully. "Get everyone together, they all need to hear this."

"We're letting him come inside?" Lambert growled, blocking their path. 

Sebastian took two steps backwards and bumped into Eskel's chest, but Eskel ignored him. 

"Yes, I can vouch for him," Eskel laid a hand on his shoulder and pushed him towards the castle. "We need everyone in the main hall, leave Ciri with Conri."

"Great decorations," Sebastian remarked as they filed inside the main hall. "Looks quite cozy in here. What's this?"

"Don't touch anything," he barked when the man leaned down to pick up one of Conri's wooden toys.

"Eskel, is this the intruder?" He heard Coën demand as he ran down the stairs. 

Sebastian froze when he heard the voice. Eskel smirked. 

"Mr. Vega?" Coën gapped at the unexpected visitor. 

"Coën of Poviss and Mr. Mayer," Sebastian straightened his coat and slicked back his shiny black hair. "I hope the winter has treated you very well."

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Coën demanded angrily.

"I knew there was something off about you," Harlan narrowed his green eyes on the shorter man who was sidestepping towards Eskel. 

"No, you didn't. You liked him," Coën argued with an eye roll. 

"Well, now, I'm annoyed. We never told you where we winter," the vampire bared his fangs Sebastian. 

Despite the dire situation, Eskel chuckled when the man squeaked and ducked behind him. 

"Did I just see fangs?" He heard the man whisper behind him. 

"Yeah, he's a vampire," Eskel helpfully informed. The man shuddered.

"Sebastian?" Colette asked in surprised when she spotted her fiancé. 

"Colette!" He immediately brightened but fell back, cowering, when Coën and Harlan continued glaring at him. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" He asked cheerfully. Eskel chuckled again, Sebastian's dark eyes rose to look at his face.

"What brings you to Kaer Morhen, a Witcher stronghold?" She asked slowly. 

"That should be impossible to find," Coën added.

"Well, uh, bad news, I guess," Sebastian stated casually, looking around. "Is this everyone?"

"No, here they are," he nodded towards the last group coming in. Jaskier and Geralt looked worried and tense, Lambert and Vesemir followed them in looking like they were ready for a battle with their swords at their sides. Eskel would be too if he had a baby and danger in the same general area. 

"Tell us what's going on," Jaskier demanded when he spotted Sebastian. 

Eskel stepped back from the shorter man who looked a little lost for a moment. Recovering his spirits, he smiled at the tense group, "Good day, I'm Sebastian de la Vega, Colette's fiancé-"

"Ex-fiancé," Harlan amended with fanged smile. Colette jabbed her father's side with her elbow.

Sebastian forcefully chuckled. "That's funny. Well, I'm a sorcerer and-" 

"You brought a fucking sorcerer into our castle, Eskel?"

"Devious snake!"

"I'll take ten vampires over one of them."

"Enough," Eskel hissed at his brothers and nodded to the deflating Sebastian. "Continue."

Sebastian took a deep breath, "I'm part of a small coven. We usually work with the rich to become rich ourselves type of thing. Anyways, a Bear Witcher contracted our services, talking about bonds and Witchers and the impossible." Sebastian slowed down when he felt the tension increase in the room. He glanced at Eskel. "He's got my coven and another one convinced that the Wolf School of Witchers needs to be eliminated as soon as possible. They're all coming up here next week to do that."

Silence.

Then, everyone started speaking at once, voices filled with frantic energy. 

Lambert's hard voice broke through the chaos, "How do we know you're telling the truth? That you're not the trap." His yellow eyes bore into Eskel who glared back.

"Sebastian is a good man," Colette stepped forward and went to stand beside her fiancé. Lambert's visibly deflated and something broke on his face when she took his hand. Eskel shook his head slowly, he tried to warn his brother. Love was too much of hassle for any Witcher. Coën and Geralt where the exception, not the rule. "I believe him."

"Thank you," he smiled at her and tightened his grip on her hand. He turned back the group. "When I heard what my coven was planning, I tried to contact Coën of Poviss," he nodded at a grim faced Witcher, "You're the only, uh, friendly Witcher I know."

"I threatened to gut you," he said bluntly. "Still might."

"Right," he nodded and released a shaky breath. "The Bear Witcher described you all, and I knew that you and your family were in danger," he faced Colette briefly. "The dark skinned Griffin," he said towards Coën, "the redheaded Wolf, the White Wolf called Geralt of Rivia, the oldest Witcher alive," he looked at a serious Vesemir, "and the Witcher with the scarred face," he glanced at Eskel who smiled down at him with his teeth. "And anyone associated with them."

"It's another massacre," Vesemir whispered, his wrinkled face pale. "My nightmare is coming to life."

Chapter Text

The week was spent preparing for the battle. Geralt barely slept, imaging the worst. In the middle of the night, he would wake up and stare at Jaskier or Conri. If anything were to happen to them... 

His mate could feel his anxiety though their bond, but he would also feel the emotions Jaskier was going through. In a strange way, it comforted them to know that they were in the same boat, feeling the same way. 

The new guy, Sebastian, offered to help protect the fortress, so he'd been staying at Kaer Morhen to the disappointment of Lambert and surprisingly, Eskel. But the scarred Witcher, being now the second person in the fortress to hold substantial magical knowledge, agreed to work with the mage to reinforce the defenses.

Vesemir came up with a rough plan of attack. All the Witchers would take the mob head on and hope for survival and smaller numbers than what Sebastian estimated. Jaskier, Harlan, Ciri, Colette, and Conri would hide inside Kaer Morhen's dungeons, the most secure part of the castle.

"Harlan is a good fighter, should anything slip past us, he could hold them off for a while," Vesemir concluded to the group gathered in the main hall. 

"Plus, he's a vampire," Lambert added with a confident grin. "He'll tear those mages apart with his teeth."

Sebastian glanced at the fang-filled grin Harlan gave at the group. He shuddered at the thought of being subjected to those deadly razors.

"We need one more layer of protection," Jaskier spoke pensively as he watched Geralt rock a sleeping Conri. 

"We have the castle, Witchers outside, everyone else hidden in the dungeons. It's the best we could do," Vesemir argued. "Based on the numbers the mage gave us."

"Harlan and I should separate from the children. Create some type of diversion if..." Jaskier faltered and bit his trembling lips. Geralt leaned down to rub his cheek with the back of his knuckles. Letting out a shaky breath, Jaskier continued, "In case, worse comes to worse."

"That would leave Ciri as the only one with fighting experience in that group," Eskel countered. "She's still a novice."

"I can do it," Ciri retorted with a fierce look on her face. "I know I can."

"I can create this diversion alone," Harlan said with determination. Coën looked alarmed. "Jaskier, you stay with your son."

"What about me?" Sebastian waved halfheartedly when everyone turned to him, "Hi."

Jaskier blinked at him in confusion. "You're going to stick around for this fight? We could all die here, you know."

Sebastian shrugged. "I have nowhere else to go, and I can protect Colette and the children."

Lambert muttered something under his breath, but no one paid attention to him. Eskel stepped forward, "Sebastian, you're willing to risk your life for my family?"

Sebastian stared up at him and nodded once. "Of course," he replied breathlessly. Colette clamped a hand over her mouth to hold back a giggle. 

"You're a decent young man, for a mage," Vesemir responded in approval. "This plan can work."

Jaskier frowned when Eskel suddenly turned around and stormed out of the main hall, slamming the door behind him. Sebastian looked around in confusion. "What happened?"

Vesemir glanced at the closed door with a knowing grin.

But Geralt didn't have energy to worry about anyone else. As the days trickled by, the time that wasn't spent with Jaskier, Conri, and Ciri, was spent training and fighting by himself or with the other Witchers. Everyone else was similarly devoted to their duties, especially Ciri who trained day and night with the other Witchers to make sure she would be able to protect Conri.

The night before the mages' intended arrival, Geralt spoke seriously to his mate, "Jaskier, if I should die..."

Jaskier immediately shook his head and tried to move back. "No, love, no-"

"Hear me," Geralt tightened his grip on his hands and pulled him closer. "If I die, the bond should let you live." Jaskier shook his head, not looking at Geralt's face. "You need to live, Siren. I want you to give Conri the best life possible. Don't let him become a Witcher."

"Geralt, you can't die. I won't-," Jaskier's voice broke, and he finally looked up at Geralt with his shiny blue eyes. "I won't forgive you, ever, if you die on me."

Geralt smiled and wiped a tear that rain down his pale cheek. "Then, I'll have to live, won't I?"

"Don't worry, Jaskier, I'll keep an eye on him," Lambert said from across the room. They were all gathered in the main hall as they tended to do in the evenings ever since they heard about the impending attack. "Those mages will have to go through me to get to Geralt."

Geralt rolled his eyes, Jaskier chuckled and leaned his forehead on his broad chest. Colette and Sebastian were still staring at them with wide, watery eyes. 

Coën laughed, "As if you're the best swordsman here."

"No, I am," Ciri pronounced proudly from where she was still practicing her sword movements with Vesemir.

Lambert scoffed. "Maybe in twenty years. If not me, then who is?"

Coën grinned and rubbed his bearded chin. "We'll find out tomorrow."

The battle started anticlimactically. Everyone been on edge for the day, wondering if this could be their last day together. Or, their last day alive. In one of the designated libraries, Sebastian suddenly stood up. Eskel abandoned their work of sorting the potion bottles, and stood up as well. "What's wrong?" 

"They're here. They're trying to bring down the barrier," Sebastian turned to the scarred Witcher somberly. "There's more of them than what I thought. The barrier won't last long. I'm sorry."

Eskel nodded gravely. "You can still leave, you know." He looked down at the floor and ran a hand through his short hair. "Go somewhere safe. It's ok." He hoped Sebastian would say yes. 

Sebastian placed a warm, smooth hand on his forearm. Eskel looked up to see his tender smile. "I'm going to protect them and the baby with everything in me. You and your brothers will do the same for the rest of us. It will be ok."

Eskel couldn't help but smile back, the sweet amber scent calming him, but the scars on his face made the action slightly uncomfortable. That rarely happened to him. But when was the last time he smiled like this? He shook his head.

"Let's go," he pulled his arm away.

In the main hall, everyone gathered what they needed quickly and silently. The Witchers strapped on their weapons and drowned a few potions. Colette gathered a sleeping Conri from Jaskier's arms and patted his back soothingly when he began to fuss. Jaskier watcher her, Sebastian, and Ciri leave for the dungeons with slumped shoulders. Harlan gently grabbed his elbow and pulled him in the opposite direction. Neither of them glanced back at their mates. They knew what the other was feeling and everything had been said. 

The Witchers filed outside of the castle and headed towards the open area opposite of The Killer and the central entrance. As they got closer to their destination, they could hear the shouts of violence and hatred. 

"Kill the Witchers!"

All of Geralt's life he'd heard similar words and hatred spewed towards him and his kind, and he carried that burden in his heart. Today, he was going to fight back because he had two wonderful people to save. Two wonderful beings who needed and loved him. There was no room for hatred in his soul.

"I don't want to die like this," Lambert started, drawing out his sword. "Not without having even lain with the woman of my dreams."

Coën snorted but didn't say anything.

"We fight for our family," Vesemir added, readying his blade. "If any of these mages survives, we're putting our Consorts in danger."

"Not going to happen," Geralt promised, a deep growl entering his voice.

Vesemir took another swallow of his potion and threw the empty bottle to the side, "If anyone should die, let this old wolf have that honor."

"No one is dying today," Eskel cracked his neck, feeling an odd strength fill his muscles. "If you do, I'll beat your sorry carcass until you jump up and fight me." 

A loud crack filled the night air when the barrier broke. The screams and yells from the angry mob surged closer.

"I won't let them anywhere near my family," Geralt growled, his muscles tightening and coiling. 

"Kill them! Kill those freaks!" The mages screamed. 

The School of the Wolf and one Griffin charged. As one, they attacked the mob. The mages readied their spells and their weapons, ready to slay the Witchers, but they could scarcely be seen. A wolf feign to the right and another came up on the left. None had a blindspot. Each member of the pack had an almost supernatural awareness of his surroundings and were impossible for any mage to pin down. Combined with their pitch black eyes from the potions each had taken, the Witchers became the stuff of nightmares. A mage tried to run away, screaming, when the fight began to go south for their kind. The youngest wolf threw his sword into one his back without looking. Another tried to run and another. The Wolves and the Griffin didn't let a single one go.

Panting, the pack of Witchers stared at the bloody scene for a few seconds. They couldn't hear any heartbeats. As one, they turned to the fortress. 

"The Bear Witcher-" 

"-he wasn't here."

They ran inside, adrenaline and anger pounding in their veins.

--

"Harlan, can you hear anything?" Jaskier asked anxiously. 

"A lot of heartbeats. I can faintly smell blood. It isn't Witcher's blood," Harlan described slowly, keeping his eyes closed. 

"They're winning! I know it," Jaskier said excitedly. They were on the same floor that led to the dungeon, but several rooms away. Jaskier couldn't bear to be farther away from his son when danger was near. But he had to protect Conri by keeping any possible danger away from him. He didn't want those mages to even get a glimpse of him and realize what had occurred. He wanted his son to have the best life possible, to be free to make his own choices, he couldn't do that if people were hunting him because of his unique background. 

"Jaskier," Harlan's eyes snapped open, fangs bared. "Someone's coming."

"Who?"

"Large, slow heartbeat, another Witcher," Harlan took out his sword. "I'm going to check. Stay here."

"Be careful," Jaskier took out his own sword, and readied himself as he watched Harlan creep down the hallway and turn a corner. He shook his head at his vampiric abilities, the man was soundless and swift. Jaskier learned some fighting moves, but he was far from calling himself a fighter. He waited for a few minutes, everything quiet and still around him. The occasional sound of fighting and screams made him jump and his breathing quickened.

"Harlan?" He whispered tentatively. He waited for another minute. 

"Harlan?" He stepped down the same hallway the vampire followed. He rounded the corner. He couldn't see much in the darkness and with the dim lighting.

"Consorts, all of you are abominations," a gruff, masculine voice said from behind him. 

Jaskier whirled around to see a hulking, dark figure emerge from the shadows with a sharp blade pressed against Harlan's neck. The vampire looked pale and was panting slightly with his arms trembling.

"What did you do to him?" Jaskier demanded.

"Drop your weapon," the Witcher demanded. Jaskier immediately did. "Love and family, Witchers weren't created for all that," the large, bulky Witcher explained, ignoring his question. "The Path and death, that's a Witcher's destiny. Consorts cloud our true purpose." The stranger pressed his face against the side of Harlan's neck and inhaled. "Did you know that this creature is a rare, very rare collectible? The only living dhampir, half vampire, in existence? I had to make a special toxin to capture it."

"He hasn't done anything to you. He's innocent," Jaskier tried to keep his eyes on both the blade and the Witcher. 

"He's a monster, there's no such thing as innocence among monsters." In a strange, animalistic move, the Witcher licked the length of Harlan's neck, causing the vampire to let out a low hiss. "I've been hunting you for so long now. I can't wait to cut your pretty neck and sell your head to the highest bidder."

"You sound like a bounty-hunter, not a Witcher. I thought there was a code?" Jaskier made contact with Harlan's green eyes. 

The Witcher raised his head to stare at Jaskier. "You're a mouthy one," he grinned. "I'll enjoy killing you and your spawn. Where is it? I can smell that foul thing," he growled. 

Harlan suddenly elbowed the strange Witcher with all the strength in his poisoned body, while Jaskier threw one of the small potion bottle that Geralt had given him at his face. As the Witcher screamed at the burn, Jaskier grabbed his fellow consort and both ran down the corridor, away from the dungeons. The screams and sounds of fighting littered the air, causing Jaskier's heart to beat even faster.

"Are you alright?" Jaskier asked, trying to distract himself. 

"No, but I will be," Harlan gasped, lagging slightly behind the human when they reached the stairs. 

"C'mon, your daughter saved me and my son, I can't let you die," Jaskier grabbed his arm again in an effort to make him hurry. "One more-" A massive paw grabbed his shoulder and threw him down the stairs. Jaskier screamed, feeling and hearing the bones snap in his right arm and shoulder from the strength of the grip and the force of his throw.

An inhuman snarl vibrated around his head as Harlan tried to defend them from the Witcher. 

"I want you to watch," he heard the Witcher say. Through Jaskier's hazy vision, he saw him dragged something large and struggling down the stairs and past Jaskier's shaking form. "Watch as I fuck and kill Geralt's Consort."

Jaskier was able to roll onto his knees and saw through his hazy vision as the Witcher forced Harlan another dose of an ominous black liquid through his slack lips. 

"Leave him alone!" Jaskier held his sagging arm as he stood on shaking legs.

The strange Witcher stood up and smiled at him. Through the moonlight seeping into room, Jaskier could see his bear medallion gleaming around his neck. 

"You remind me of him. You're beautiful and brave like he was," the Bear Witcher said as he neared Jaskier.

"Who?"

"My own Consort. I had to kill him when I realize there was no room for him in my life," the Bear Witcher explained with a fond smile.

Jaskier gasped. "Impossible. Witchers can't hurt their Consorts."

The Bear Witcher kept smiling indulgently. "I'll enjoy killing you, it will remind me of my last time with him."

He reached Jaskier and bent down to lift the bard by his broken shoulder. The excruciating pain caused him to lose consciousness for a few seconds, but he thought of Conri and snapped himself awake, gripping consciousness with everything he had in his body and soul. He had to protect his son, had to keep distracting him. 

"Tell me where your spawn is, and I'll make your death quick," his warm, foul breath crawled over Jaskier's cheek. 

"Fuck you," he spat on his face. 

The Bear Witcher lost the smile. "You're going to regret that. You're nothing but a whore, Geralt's whore. And before you die, you'll become mine." He lifted his heavy fist, posed to hit Jaskier's face. He flinched, but the hit never came. 

He slowly opened his eyes to see a hand holding his fist back. 

"Geralt," Jasker released a few tears of relief and joy. His mate was alright. 

Geralt's handsome face was bloodied and bruised, and his expression stony and cold as he squeezed the Bear Witcher's closed fist. The Bear Witcher didn't make a sound, but Jaskier could see his jaw tighten. The Bear Witcher released his shoulder, causing him to whine in agony. He almost fell onto his back but a sturdy presence caught him. 

Vesemir. 

"We got you, my boy. Everything will be alright," he said gently. 

He spotted Coën kneeling next to Harlan. His hands kept fluttering over his body.

"He gave him something, a poison," the pain made Jaskier slur his words. Vesemir gently sat on him on the ground and pressed a vial against his lips. 

"Just a little. It will dull the pain."

"How did you escape the mob?" The Bear Witcher asked Geralt as they both stared at each other without moving. 

"We killed them," Geralt growled. He released his hand and cracked his neck, black eyes intent on the larger Witcher. 

Vesemir propped Jaskier against the wall, while Coën took a knife to his wrist and pressed the bleeding appendage against Harlan's slack mouth. 

"You came here, attacked my family, brought filth to our den," Geralt whispered, low and threatening, causing the hairs to rise on Jaskier's neck. "You deserve to die."

"Brothers, you need to see. This is not what we're meant for," he waved a hand towards Jaskier and Harlan. He walked backwards as Geralt, Lambert, Eskel, and Vesemir surrounded him. "Once I kill them, you'll see. You'll be free."

"You deserve to die," Lambert repeated. 

Jaskier watched the four Wolf Witchers move as one. It was strange, almost as if they had perfect understanding of each other and were communicating without words. Lost in his pain, he couldn't feel Geralt very well through their bond to find out more. When Coën stood up, Jaskier watched the other Witchers make room for him without looking at each other. 

Jaskier had to look away when they charged at the Bear Witcher and savagely tore him apart. Jaskier flinched when he heard something heavy hit the ground then roll. The metallic taste of blood filled the air.

Then, silence. 

"Is it over?" He asked tentatively, swinging his head in Geralt's direction.

He heard his mate's heavy footsteps near him, and Geralt kneeled next to him. "Yes, it's over."

Jaskier sighed and sagged against the wall. He kept his eyes closed, his body unable to move anymore. "Good thing I can heal like you," he said before passing out.

Chapter Text

Despite having Witcher healing, it still took some time for Jaskier to feel like himself again. Colette and Eskel teamed up again to set his shoulder and his arm, causing Jaskier to pass out a second time from the pain. The pain killers they had could only do so much.

Their newest guest, Sebastian, proved invaluable again with his experience with his small children. He helped feed, bathe, and play with Conri as Jaskier recuperated, and Geralt and the other Witchers sorted out the castle. 

"I really could have used you when I got him," he said to the mage as he laid the baby in his crib. Then, he asked, "So, you and Colette are getting married?"

Sebastian looked up with a distracted smile. "Colette and I broke up. Our engagement is over."

"What?" Jaskier winced as he tried to sit up. Sebastian hurried over to help him. "But aren't you in love?"

"No, it was more a political thing on my part. And she was trying to forgot a cowardly redhead, her words not mine." They both chuckled, understanding who she was talking about. "It looks like she's sorted her problems. And I can't really go back home, so," he shrugged. 

Jaskier winced. "To save us, you gave up so much. I owe you everything."

Sebastian shook his head. "I did the right thing. For the first time in a long time, I chose correctly, and that felt good. Better than all the coin in the world."

Jaskier reached over to take his hand and squeezed it. Sebastian squeezed it back. Both men felt like they just made a true friend. 

"How's Harlan?"

Sebastian lost his smile and shook his head. "Recovery is slow. He's still sleeping. Coën refuses to leave his side. Colette doesn't either."

"God," Jaskier sighed and rolled his head back. "He's a good man, er, vampire. He doesn't deserve this. None of them do."

Sebastian stood up smoothly and fixed the nonexistent wrinkles in his immaculate blue outfit. "I promised Eskel that I would help him research Harlan's condition."

Jaskier let a wide, knowing grin curl his lips. "You and Eskel, eh?"

"We just work together on somethings," Sebastian winked at Jaskier. "Who knows? Maybe we'll become really good friends."

Jaskier chuckled as he watched his new friend leave his bedroom. "Don't do anything I would do!"

A week later, normalcy slowly returned back to the castle. Jaskier healed sufficiently from his injury that he could carry his son with minimal discomfort, the wards around the fortress were strengthened thanks to Eskel and Sebastian, and the baby kept growing more and more each day. The only dark spot was that Harlan refused to wake up. 

"He's a what?" Lambert asked during breakfast. 

"A dhampir, half vampire," Eskel clarified. "That's why it's hard to make a potion for him." Sebastian nodded at his side. 

"Those are creatures of fantasy. A vampire can't have a baby with a human!" Lambert declared to the half full table.

"Just like a man can't get pregnant," Jaskier countered sweetly.

Lambert had no words. He turned to Geralt who shrugged from his spot next to the bard. "I've never seen a dhampir, never even heard of one, but I'll believe anything now."

"Nothing's working on him," Eskel said after downing his drink. "We're hoping that his vampire half is working hard to heal. It's how vampires do it, through a long, extensive sleep."

While most of the table mulled over his words and gazed sorrowfully at the three empty seats at their large table, Sebastian pipped up, "Men can get pregnant?"

Eskel groaned.

Then, the Witchers glanced towards the doorway in unison. Jaskier wondered if the baby had woken up from his nap, but he wanted to explain the situation to Sebastian first. He kind of skirted around the issue of how he and Geralt ended up with an infant. He opened his mouth to explain when someone interrupted. 

"Did someone else get knocked up?" Jaskier stood up when he saw Coën with his mate and Colette standing at the entrance to the kitchen. Harlan looked pale, much paler than usual, and shaky, but he had a bright smile on his handsome face as the other Witchers all stood up to offer him their seat. 

He took Geralt's seat, choosing to sit next to Jaskier, and the bard clapped a hand on his shoulder. "My friend, how are you?"

"I've been better, but I'll live," he smiled at everyone. "I heard we won?"

"Fuck yeah, we did!" Lambert raised his fist in the air. Colette nudged him with her elbow but smiled brightly at his proud expression. 

"I think we can all agree that I'm the best swordsman," Eskel puffed out his chest. Sebastian nodded eagerly. 

"Please, I killed more mages than you," Geralt rolled his eyes.

"Since we're all here, I wanted to discuss something," Vesemir stood up and addressed the now somber group. "With the recent attack on the castle and the state of one of our Consorts," he nodded to Harlan, "I think we should close Kaer Morhen for the next year. No one leaves and no one visits."

"What about the Path?" Geralt asked.

"The monsters of the world can wait until we're stronger," Vesemir gave the group a small smile. 

Jaskier's shoulders slumped in relief. This gave him a safe location to stay with Conri. He'd need help to figure out this fatherhood business and plenty of babysitters, so he could finally get some alone time with Geralt. He turned to smile flirtatiously at his mate, hoping that he understood his train of thoughts. From the echoing heat he felt through their bond, Geralt followed his thinking.

"Since we're closing Kaer Morhen," Eskel added, standing up, "it'll be sad to say goodbye to Sebastian, we owe him so much, but it must be done."

"B-but, we haven't finished fixing the barriers around this place," Sebastian protested with a shocked look.

"Young man, you can go or stay. Your choice," Vesemir said firmly. Jaskier nodded with a smile. 

"If you don't mind my company for an entire year, I'll stay!" Sebastian gleefully told the group. Eskel sat down slowly. 

Later that day, Jaskier was strolling through the grounds of the fortress with his son, enjoying the peace and sunshine.

"Jaskier!" He whirled around to see Lambert and Eskel running up to him. 

"What's going on?" Jaskier asked, bouncing Conri in his arms. Seeing his uncles so close, the baby started to wiggle and coo. 

"Little man!" Lambert exclaimed, Eskel jabbed him on his side. "Right," he cleared his throat.

"Jaskier," Eskel repeated with a smile. "Now that the battle is over and Harlan is getting better, it's time to make some room at Kaer Morhen."

"Yeah, time to get rid people who are not family," Lambert agreed with a wise nod.

"Winter is almost over, and it's getting cramped at Kaer Mohren," Eskel rephrased. "With Conri growing up-"

"-Ciri growing up-"

"-you and Geralt staying here for the year-"

"-all of us staying here for the year-"

"We don't need Sebastian de la Vega running around, making the castle feel smaller," Eskel summarized.

Jaskier blinked. "O...k?"

"Really?" Lambert asked happily. "I'll tell him to pack his shit up."

"Stop," Jaskier held up a hand and both Witchers froze, Lambert mid-step. "You want to kick him out of here?"

"No, no," Eskel said with a gentle smile. "It's getting cramped in here, so he has to go. You agreed."

"I want him gone," Lambert said bluntly. 

"He saved our lives. He didn't have to, but he warned us about the attack. And for that, he'll have my eternal gratitude," Jaskier reprimanded the pair with uncharacteristic sternness. 

Lambert looked down and fidgeted, digging the heel of his boots into dirt. "But I don't like him," he mumbled. 

Eskel didn't looked repentant, instead he clenched his jaw tighter. "He has to go, Jaskier. Everyone will listen to you if you tell him to leave."

Jaskier raised Conri a little higher on his chest. "What's going on, Eskel?" He couldn't deal with something else so soon.

Eskel's eyes flickered to Conri with a look of fear and desperation. "I...I-"

"Eskel!" A bright, cheery voice surprised the small group. Eskel closed his eyes and hung his head. 

Lambert clapped his brother on the shoulder. "He's never far from you, my brother. Keep that up, and I'll tolerate him." 

"Hello," Sebastian greeted the small group, but his large brown eyes remained on Eskel. "I wondered where you went. We're supposed to go over the magical runes together?"  Sebastian reminded the Witcher. 

"Runes which are supposed to keep us all safe, right?" Jaskier asked Eskel meaningfully. Play nice, he screamed at him internally.  

"Yes," Eskel nodded. "I forgot. I apologize." 

"Are you still babysitting tonight, Seb?" Jaskier asked, ignoring Eskel's and Lambert's surprised looks.

Sebastian nodded eagerly. "I love babies. I come from a large family," he told the Witchers.

Eskel shook his head and walked away, muttering something under his breath. 

"Eskel? A dónde vas?" Sebastian had to jog to catch up with him.

Jaskier smirked as he watched them walk into the castle together.

--

Outside, in the training courtyard, the four Witchers sparred a few days after Eskel and Lambert tried talking to Jaskier. Coën frowned as he dodged Eskel's blows. "You're slow today."

Eskel paused, panting, sweat dripping off his body. "I've been feeling off lately." He rolled his neck.

"How come?" Lambert asked as he threw a punch at Geralt who dodged with a smirk.

"Never fast enough, little brother," he taunted. Lambert gritted his teeth.

Eskel dropped his hands and stepped away from Coën. "I think... my heat is coming."

The Witchers immediately dropped their fighting stances and stared at the scarred Witcher.

"Because of Sebastian?" Geralt asked. 

"I know it has to do with him. He smells... wonderful to me. Like," his two favorite things, magic and sex rolled into one delicious, beautiful package. "Like I want to mate him." He turned around and slammed his fist into a nearby tree. 

Coën cocked his head at Eskel. "What's the problem? Having a mate is great. I love mine."

"I love mine, too," Geralt added.

"And I want one," Lambert sighed dreamily.

"Well, I don't. I'm happy for all of you, really I am, but I don't want a mate. I'm good without a mate," Eskel ran a hand over his sandy brown hair. "And, it's been so long since my last heat... I think I can... kill him with this one. Even if Sebastian agrees to get with an ugly fuck like me... it's been close to 20 years! This heat feels different, darker, heavier."

The Witchers looked at each other somberly. They've never heard of a Witcher who had gone through a successful heat after so long. 

"But, Eskel," Coën interrupted. "A heat that strong, you'll go insane without mating."

"I know," he responded grimly. "But I prefer that. Put me down like a rabid dog, then. It's better than hurting him."

"How much time do you have?" Geralt asked in a low tone.

Eskel rubbed his shoulders. His skin felt too tight for his body. "Less than a year, maybe. Not sure."

At his words, the Witchers remained silent for some time.