Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Before Jaskier turned eighteen, he was treated the same as the other slave children. There weren’t many of them in the palace.  Not many children were sold into slavery these days, and certainly not many who weren’t cursed in some way — a hunched back, a clubbed foot, a cleft palate—something that made their sale price worth more to their parents than a life of working in the fields or tending animals. 

The slave children in the palace weren’t physically or mentally damaged, though; they were mostly the children that had been born to the palace slaves—brought up as slaves and learning trades from their parents. None of them were all that close, since they were usually kept busy with one task or another instead of being allowed to play. 

Unlike the other palace children, Jaskier wasn’t brought into the world by two people who just happened to be slaves; no, Jaskier was bred into existence—the result of a king ordering two of his most beautiful pleasure slaves to make a child. It wasn’t unheard of, but wasn’t exactly common, either, since kings were usually the only people wealthy enough to own more than one pleasure slave, let alone be able to spare a couple for however long it took to conceive and birth a child. Jaskier wasn’t even sure which of the neighboring kingdoms had been the one to order such a pairing, since he’d been sold to Kaedwen when he was too young to remember. 

He didn’t truly care for anyone, not closely anyways, and even his owner King Henselt only provoked mild fondness (which he exaggerated a hundredfold in the man’s presence, of course). 

In the palace he was tasked with a multitude of menial chores and jobs—things like mopping floors, hauling flour for the bakers, helping the palace florists cut the needed vast amounts of roses for a royal wedding once, and even acting as a messenger, running back and forth between nobility in the palace, passing secret notes. 

The last job was his favorite; being trusted to pass messages deemed too important for the normal servants who waited on nobility. Paid servants could be bought off, while slaves weren’t seen as intelligent enough to bribe, nor were they allowed to own anything themselves—any slave trying to purchase something with money would only have been laughed at and then turned in to their owners for punishment. Neither would they be freed if their masters died, instead passed along with the rest of their worldly belongings, so there weren't any incentives to help someone who would want to do them harm. 

A sneaky little shit as a child, Jaskier took full advantage of the fact that searching for someone meant an excuse for being somewhere he shouldn’t have. Some days Jaskier just went exploring in the less used parts of the castle, running to and fro over empty halls, finding all sorts of odds and ends that made no sense. 

He did find the intended recipient and give them the message, of course, and usually not in an unreasonable amount of time. The trust and the freedom bestowed upon him when he was running messages never failed to make him glow so Jaskier made sure he was one of the best. He quickly became a favored messenger, since he wasn’t regularly demanded elsewhere, and a childhood of assorted chores meant he knew better than most where to find any given person in the palace. 

When he turned eighteen, however, it was another story. Years of manual labor interspersed with running meant he was lean but muscular; as soon as he hit maturity Henselt decided not to waste any more time, bedding him the eve of his birthday. As Jaskier bore him, tears leaking from his eyes, he realized that this was to be the rest of his life. 

Despite his despair at the thought, Jaskier quickly got the hang of sex; he learned how to give pleasure easily, without thinking. He learned how to get off without help from his partner, how to go through the motions without really taking stock of his body. Soon he had a place among the king’s favorites whores, kept comfortable on silky sheets with fancy jewelry marking him cared for. Owned. 

No matter how fondly he was treated, however, Jaskier still wore the raised, colored brand on his neck marking him property, not person, and he knew there was no way out of the role he was bred for. When others saw him they looked down their noses—even the nobility he was lent out to often saw him as a service their king bestowed on them, not a person. 

Soon after he turned twenty-five Jaskier was surprised to learn that he had been included as a part of a peace treaty with neighboring Redania. Henselt told him one night, sorrowfully, that in an attempt to make peace he’d offered his best pleasure slave to the neighboring kingdom in hopes that Jaskier would be able to curb the worst of the Radovid’s renowned anger with his skills in bed. Jaskier, well versed in court politics by now, had just smiled and promised to do his best while cursing Henselt in his head. 

While Henselt was by most accounts a young, new ruler who treated his subjects fairly, the king of Redania was not known as benevolent, nor kind or smart. Instead he was rather power-hungry and he’d threatened to invade no less than three countries bordering his lands since Jaskier had come of age. Jaskier had learned (in whispered conversations nobody thought to hide from him) that the king of Redania was a cruel, small-hearted man who hungered for war, and he wasn’t looking forward to meeting the man himself. 

The time to leave came quickly and Jaskier, who wasn’t allowed possessions of his own, packed the few things he’d managed to squirrel away over the years. It wasn’t much, just the few clothes he’d been given and a handful of letters he’d found while exploring, the authors long dead but their words helping him learn to read and write, skills which he coveted. 

He wasn’t forbidden from learning to read and write, at least, but nobody thought it worth the effort to teach him. Another reason that passing messages was kept mostly to slaves—the majority could not read, so they wouldn’t be able to understand the notes. Jaskier used the messages to practice, spending hours running his eyes over letters and forcing them to make sense. Sometimes he even watched them written, his masters mumbling the words as they went along. 

Once his letters and his clothes were packed, taking up all of one smallish bag, Jaskier was hurried out of his rooms and instructed to wait with the other slaves that had been traded in addition to himself. They weren’t left alone for long, soon being herded towards the caravan that waited to take them to their new master. 

On horseback the journey from Kaedwen to Redania was about three days or so, if one hurried. Their caravan was fat with riches used to bribe Radovid from war, however, and the journey took about a week. Jaskier and a few other slaves walked alongside the horses and carts, not given their own. 

The days of walking weren’t too strenuous for Jaskier, since he was used to running a fair bit (he knew that as soon as he stopped being attractive he’d be sold to a lesser noble or, eventually, to one of the labor farms that would work him to death in a matter of years) but he worried for the others that he walked with. One was an older woman, one of the bakers who he was fond of and who made the best sweet rolls Jaskier had ever tasted. She’d been traded to Radovid for that exact reason. Jaskier was well used to walking, but Sophie was unused to the kind of effort that the trip required, and it showed. 

Several times Jaskier had to ask the leaders of their little caravan to stop so she could catch her breath. They didn’t often listen, but when Jaskier pointed out that it would be on their heads if the gifts to Redania arrived damaged, they agreed to stop once in a while so Sophie could take a small break. 

Even with the breaks she was worn down, panting, and whenever they stopped for the night she dropped right to sleep, unable even to stay awake to eat the meager rations they were given. Jaskier saved them so she could eat in the morning, on their way out of camp, and the thankful smiles he got were bright with her gratitude. 

All of their stomachs were cramping with hunger when they finally got to Redania, though, since food was lean and it had been a harsh winter. Jaskier hoped that it had been better in Redania, but as they traveled through the busy streets and crowded markets in the grand royal city, he realized that they’d had it the same, or maybe worse. 

Kids stood on every street corner, begging, their emaciated little frames making Jaskier’s heart hurt. He had nothing to give them, though, and he just looked away instead. Plenty of vendors called out to them, offering food, whores, anything they could want, but they too seemed a little more desperate than excited for the sale. 

The rest of the city was much the same and they were shepherded through the throngs of people, their guards more than willing to use short clubs and swords to get the general populace out of their way. As they took a turn the palace finally came into view, looming high over the rest of the city, set safely back and out of the main bulk of buildings. It probably should have looked magnificent, all storied towers and beautiful carvings along the many, many pillars that made up the face of it, but as Jaskier looked on all he could see was the gilded prison that was set to keep him inside for however long the king wanted to own him.

Chapter Text

At the palace, Jaskier followed their procession up far too many flights of stairs and into the palace proper. He offered Sophie a shoulder to lean on after the first flight, and by the time they were at the top they were both panting hard.

The Redanian palace was similar to Kaedwen’s in that it was large, opulent, and generally far too grand considering the sheer number of starving citizens just outside the gates. But Jaskier knew his place and bit his tongue, though it wasn’t as if he could have really discussed the subject with anyone either way. The other slaves would have walked away from him in fear if he’d broached it with them and any non-slave wouldn’t have deigned to listen to what he had to say. 

Their caravan was greeted by manservants and eventually brought to the castle’s steward, who looked over the haul with a haughty sniff. He started ordering servants about, directing cargo to and fro, while Jaskier, Sophie, and the rest of the slaves stood to the side, unsure where they were to go. After most of the items had been unloaded, the steward turned to them, giving them an even more judgemental look than he did the goods. 

“And you. Come forward, one at a time, and state your craft. Why you were sent here.”

It was rather blunt, but Jaskier had heard a lot worse. He shot a look at the others, who all looked frozen to the spot, and decided that he could go first. 

He took a step forward, looking down at the shoes of the steward. “Hello sir, I’m Jaskier, sent by king Henselt to Redania as a part of the peace treaties. I’m a pleasure slave, king Henselt’s favorite; he wished me to bestow my abilities on king Radovid.” 

The steward seemed unimpressed, and made a note in the ledger he carried with him. “Hmm. Jaskier is a rather odd name.” Jaskier wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and he just shrugged at the man, still keeping his gaze respectfully downturned. The man finally sighed. “Alright, well, Radovid isn’t all that fond of male pleasure slaves. I don’t believe he was aware of Henselt’s… proclivities when he agreed to take you.” Jaskier kept himself still, not trusting his mouth not to say something stupid. The steward continued. “You’ll go by Julian from now on, and you can follow Roger—” He gestured to one of the guards that stood to the side with a hand. “To where you’ll stay. Roger, make sure he gets there in one piece, and I’ll tell Radovid of his arrival. The king can decide what’s to be done with him.” 

Roger nodded with a grimace before turning and heading towards a door off to the side. Jaskier had to scramble to catch up with him but eventually found his feet, giving Sophie a quick kiss on the cheek before hurrying off. Her eyes were wide as she watched him go but Jaskier couldn’t read the emotions in her expression. 

As he followed the guard Jaskier cast his eyes about, tracking the path they took through the large palace and making a mental map as they went. He wanted to get the layout of the place as soon as possible; hopefully he could offer his services as a messenger. 

They finally reached another door, leading down a small set of stairs carved into the stone itself, and Jaskier paused. He’d never been much of a fan of tight spaces, and while this wasn’t the worst he’d seen, it still gave him pause. Roger started down the stairs without a backward glance at Jaskier, but when he realized only his own footsteps echoed against the stone, he swung back around with a sneer. 

“Follow, slave.” His voice held all the disgust that Jaskier knew to expect, and he didn’t flinch through years of practice. Roger crooked his finger, gesturing to Jaskier to follow him, and Jaskier sighed before putting one foot very carefully on the top step. 

With his eyes on his feet and not at the close walls and ceiling he made it down the stairs eventually, finding that they let out into a small room which also had a rather low ceiling. It was better than the stairs, but not by much, and Jaskier kept his eyes on his feet for more than just the usual respect when Roger stopped. 

“Slave quarters are down here. They’re divided by work and then by gender. Pleasure slaves”-- he sneered the words—“are all the way down, on the left.” Jaskier looked up just enough to see that the man was pointing down a dim hallway lined with doors on either side. Roger didn’t seem interested in accompanying him the rest of the way, so Jaskier gripped the strap of his small bag tighter and nodded before starting down the hallway. 

He heard Roger turn and leave after only a few steps but didn’t look back, instead focusing on his feet and the slow walk. If the room he was given was the same as the hallway, Jaskier wasn’t sure he’d survive. Maybe nobody would mind if he slept in the gardens, in a tree or somewhere else out of the way. It’d be cold in the winters, but still better than this. 

The last door on the left was quite a ways and Jaskier passed the time by counting his steps. It was past five hundred by the time he reached the end of the stone hallway, one door set into the wall at his left. He stared at it a moment and hesitated before opening it. Since Roger said that first the quarters were divided by work and then gender, it was unlikely to be a private room. 

He was right--when he pushed the door open he found himself in a common room of sorts, with a small sofa on one side and a table in the middle. There were three girls sitting around the table, all holding cards and trying to gauge each other; when he opened the door they all turned to look at him instead. 

The girl closest to him stood, her eyes narrowed. “You’re new, and you’re in the wrong place.” 

Jaskier just looked at her, unsure what she meant. 

“This is pleasure slaves only,” she continued. If you’re looking for...” She looked him up and down. “Hmm, kitchen help is two down, and gardening is three.” 

She was very no-nonsense. Jaskier just stared at her some more, confused. He opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t sure what—but she held up a hand. 

“No. I’ve seen your kind before, and the answer is no. We’re property of the king, not you, and we will not be interested in helping you out with anything you’re after.” 

Something clicked in Jaskier’s mind and he realized why all three of them were so tense. Clearly, living near the other slaves, some of which were big brawny men who did manual labor all day, had led to some… misunderstandings in the past, something which he couldn’t fault the girl for being wary of in the slightest. 

He held his hands up, palms out, to show he meant no harm. “I’m not—I’m actually a pleasure slave too.” All three girls huffed in disbelief in unison, which had Jaskier fighting back a smile. “I swear it--I’d offer to show you but I doubt you’re interested in the tricks I can do.” He shrugged. “I was traded here from Kaedwen, from King Henselt’s palace, in the name of peace. I was one of his favorites and I was promised in the peace negotiations. I guess Radovid forgot to specify that he wanted a woman.” 

The girls still looked wary, but nobody stopped him when he dropped his bag to the floor and pointed to the empty chair, silently asking for permission. The girl still standing gave him a tight nod and he dropped down into the hard wooden chair with a sigh. 

“How come the ceilings in here are higher than in the hallway and the stairs?” It wasn’t the question he’d meant to ask, but the words made their way out of his throat anyway. He’d been too preoccupied to notice at first, but he didn’t quite feel like the walls were closing in on him like they had on the stairs. 

The girl to his left chuckled. “Because nobody cares. The slave quarters were carved out down here because there was no more room in the palace, and they only did the bare minimum for people to be able to live. But since we live here, and nobody else comes further than the hallway, everyone ended up just making the rooms bigger, so it’s more comfortable. We had to do it slowly, but it was worth it.” 

Jaskier nodded at her, shooting her a grin. “Well that makes sense, thank you. And really, thank you for carving out the rooms, I had already started planning to live in the gardens if there was a low ceiling in here like in the hallway.” 

The girl smiled back, and Jaskier noted that she had a beautiful smile to go along with her golden hair. “I’m Essi, it’s nice to meet you.” She held out a hand and Jaskier shook, both of them beaming. 

“J—” He paused. “Julian.” He looked to the other two girls, who still seemed a little suspicious of him. He held out a hand to the one who had stood, and she took it warily. 

“Priscilla.” They shook, and then Jaskier turned to the last girl, who hadn’t said anything yet. He offered her his hand, and she took it after another moment’s hesitation. 

“I’m Cassandra.” They shook and Jaskier leaned back in his chair, looking at the girls. 

“So, my ladies, I have heard that at some point I’m to be given a bed. Perchance do you know where it may be?” At his question all of them looked uneasy once more and Jaskier frowned. “What is it?” 

Priscilla was the one who finally answered his question. “There are… all of the slave quarters are split by gender into dormitories, but since it’s only us girls down here we took over both rooms so we’d have more space. We’ll have to move stuff around if you want the men’s room, and the other girls are out so we need to wait until they get back before moving their things.” 

Jaskier nodded. Since they had nothing or what amounted to nothing, what meager possessions slaves could claim ownership of was sacred; other slaves knew better than to touch without asking. But Priscilla’s explanation also had him wondering. 

“If it’d be too much trouble and end up with all of you, however many of you there are, stuck together in one room, I don’t want to put you out. I wouldn’t be against just having a bed to myself wherever there’s a free one, since I feel I’d get awfully lonely by myself.” He raised an eyebrow and Priscilla’s unease only grew. 

“I really don’t know about that. We’re—it’d be indecent, you know, we change clothes in front of each other, but with you…” She trailed off. 

Jaskier shot her a winning smile. “Worry not my dear, because I promise you I pose no threat. My personal tastes run more similarly to yours and you’ll find no wandering eyes or hands from me.” She didn’t look entirely convinced, but her frown lessened and the other girls also looked relieved. 

“Well, if you’re sure of that, it would be better for everyone, not having to move.” Essi’s voice chimed in from Jaskier’s other side, and he turned to face her with another smile. 

“Why thank you, darling, I’d rather not put myself in everyone’s bad graces the instant I arrived by turning them out of their beds.” 

Essi chuckled and nodded before pointing to another door that led off the common room. “Rooms are in there. I can show you if you’d like?” Jaskier nodded to her and she jumped up from her seat, already walking over to the door. When Jaskier looked back to Priscilla and Cassandra they were both fighting smiles at Essi’s excitability. Jaskier had to tamp down one of his own. 

He followed Essi through the door after scooping up his bag, and found a small hallway that led to two more doors, both of which were propped open. Jaskier could see messily made beds through both doors and several articles of clothing strewn about. He grinned, sensing kindred spirits in them already, and Essi led him through the door on the left. 

Three beds sat covered in stuff, and two more sat empty. Jaskier pointed at the empty bed furthest from the door and Essi nodded. He put his small bag down and looked around, taking in the small room. It wasn’t cozy, but it was lived in, and the girls seemed to like it well enough. When he looked back to Essi, she was watching him. 

“How many girls are there? Total, I mean.” 

She chuckled. “Seven total, not counting you now. The other room has four. I figured having you in here with us would be easier.” 

Jaskier nodded, surprised that she’d put him in the room she slept in, regardless of the promises he’d made as to his interest. He wouldn’t have faulted her for putting him as far from her as possible. 

Essi shrugged back at him and nodded towards the door once more. “Well, if you’re fine with that one, we should probably get back out there. We’re required to go upstairs soon and I’ll bet they’re going to want you with us, so the king can decide what to do with you.” 

Jaskier nodded, queasiness settling into the pit of his stomach. He knew he was good, great even, at what he did, but if the king didn’t want him—wasn’t even interested in trying—he might be sold off to a lesser noble or to one of the labor farms. That would be the worst option. Jaskier had long since made up his mind that whenever he was finally sold to one of the labor farms, he wouldn’t live for the length of the journey it took to get there. A quick, painless death was better than being worked into the ground. 

He followed Essi back into the common room, where the other two were still waiting. They glanced at Essi and then at him before shrugging. “Gotta go soon, you ready?” Essi nodded at Priscilla, and then Priscilla looked to Jaskier. “You’ll come up with us. The king likes at least three of us on hand at any given moment, so when the shift changes we’ll take you with us so you can see where we’re going.” She grimaced. “Even if he doesn’t want you, he’ll probably have… others that’ll take what’s offered without a question.” She paused. “You might end up busier than any of us.” 

Jaskier felt the unease in the pit of his stomach grow. She wasn’t wrong—there were a few nobles only interested in men in every court, and if these ones had been particularly starved of those attentions, he would likely end up passed around and spending much more time upstairs than the girls did. It didn’t bear thinking about, though, and he covered the worry with a jovial grin. 

“Well, we’ll have to see. Maybe I’ll be able to convince the king to like me. A mouth is a mouth, after all.” Priscilla looked unconvinced, but Jaskier paid her no mind. 

Soon they all left the small quarters, walking one in front of the other down the narrow hallway. Jaskier held his breath as they walked. When they were about halfway down, Essi, who was in front of him, held out a hand to him. He took it gratefully and squeezed, probably a good bit harder than she’d expected, but she made no sounds of protest, just squeezed his back. 

At the top of the stairs, Jaskier finally let Essi go, taking a deep breath and suppressing a shiver at the sensations the stairs gave him. He hated them with a passion already and he got the feeling that it would only grow with time.

Chapter Text

The walk was a short one, and soon all four found themselves in a large hall that looked like it was set for dinner. The table at the front was raised up, so the rest of the diners could see it, although nobody sat there now. Priscilla pointed over to a dais beside the front table. “During meals, when we’re on duty, we stand there. The king likes to show us off.” Jaskier gulped, eying the dais. He’d never been shown off before; Henselt would usually just find him when he needed or tell him who to go to for the night, but never… displayed like a prize. Like an object . 

Despite Jaskier’s misgivings he followed when Priscilla led him away, with the other girls following in his wake. 

The next area they entered was the kitchens, where Jaskier was instructed when and what he’d be fed—at the beginning and end of each shift. The girls all sat to eat, scarfing their food, and Jaskier joined them, eating as hungrily as they were. When they finished, Priscilla led the way out of the kitchens, but not before Jaskier spotted Sophie standing with the other bakers. He broke away from the girls and ran over to her, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“Jaskier!” She hugged him back, face pressed against his neck, and shoved an extra roll into his hands surreptitiously. Jaskier accepted the food with wide eyes and stuffed it into his shirt before anyone else saw what she’d done. Giving her one last squeeze he finally let her go, stepping back with a smile. 

“It’s Julian now, Sophie.” he wryly reminded her. Sophie nodded at him and Priscilla pulled him away before she could say anything further. 

Once they were out of the kitchen and away from the kitchen staff Jaskier showed them the roll and got approving smiles when he ripped it in four pieces, handing them each one. It was gone in four big bites between them, and the girls all sighed. 

“Mmm, that was great , Julian.” Essi threw her arms around his middle, surprising him, and Jaskier only barely avoided both of them landing on the floor. Her use of his new name also set his stomach churning unpleasantly. He shook himself once they’d righted, trying to ignore the discomfort at answering to a different name, since he would be called whatever his owners wanted, regardless of his own preferences. 

Finally, Priscilla led them into a grand antechamber where the king and what Jaskier guessed were a few other nobles sat around a table. There was another dais there, four bored-looking girls standing on it. The nobility didn’t look up when they entered, but the girls on the dais did, all of them perking up and then frowning when they saw Jaskier a part of the small group. 

Priscilla came to a stop before the table, head bowed respectfully while she waited for the king to turn to her. 

He ignored her standing there, instead continuing on with his conversation. 

“-the White Wolf, really, what an absurd name.” The man sitting across from the king had a nasal voice and the prissy sort of expression that spoke of many years spent advising royalty - it was likely nobody had dared disagree with him in at least a decade. 

The king nodded, looking bored. “Yes, well, I gather they didn’t have much choice in the matter. Seems that he’s the last in the line of succession, unfit for the throne of course, but they’ll realize their folly soon enough.” 

The noble he was speaking to nodded, his lips pursed. “I’ve no doubt Rivia will be left in ruins before too much longer, unless they revolt against his leadership.” He rolled his eyes. “The gods know that the peasantry doesn’t usually have such good sense, but we can always hope.” 

The king chuckled. They continued talking for another few minutes, devolving into more boring court politicking, and Jaskier let his attention drift as he waited for either man to acknowledge Priscilla standing there. 

King Radovid eventually wound down the conversation and dismissed the nobles with a hand before turning to her, raising an eyebrow. 

“What is it?” His tone was sharp and annoyed, and she kept her head bowed, gesturing to Jaskier with a hand. 

“My lord, I present you Julian, your newest pleasure slave. He was part of the gifts from Kaedwen, from King Henselt. You were promised the king’s finest pleasure slave, and Julian is he.” 

Jaskier, who had also bowed his head respectfully, looked up through his eyelashes and got a glimpse of Radovid’s face. The king’s jaw was tight and a vein pulsed in his forehead; before Jaskier looked away again he noticed that Radovid’s face was quickly turning purple. 

He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to address the king or not—in Kaedwen, he’d been able to speak more or less freely (it had gotten him into trouble more than once) but he wasn’t so sure it’d be allowed now, and didn’t want to find out the hard way. He kept quiet. 

After another minute of silence, Radovid finally spoke. “You.” He pointed at Jaskier. “You say you’re the favorite of King Henselt? What talents do you possess?” 

Jaskier gulped and nodded, still not looking up as he did, since Priscilla hadn’t looked up yet. “My lord, I—I am quite talented in bed, I’ve been told my mouth is equal or better to any cunt, and I’ve also got training in music, theatre, and art.” 

The king hummed, which Jaskier took as a good sign. For once in his life, he stayed quiet. Eventually, the king spoke again. “Hmm. Well, I suppose you could be worse, although I’m fairly certain that Henselt sent you on purpose to fuck with me.” Jaskier wasn’t sure he agreed—the king had been truly sad to see him leave, but then again, he hadn’t been sad enough to try and keep Jaskier. Radovid waved a hand. “Very well. If you’re trained as you say you are, we’ll find you a lute or something and you can play when needed.” 

Jaskier almost stopped breathing; the offer seemed almost too good to be true. Not having sex and getting to play music instead? 

The king continued, uncaring about Jaskier internal thoughts. “You’ll also service my nobles as the girls do. There are plenty who are desperate enough not to care you’ve a cock.” Jaskier’s heart sank, but he ignored it. It was still a far too reasonable offer (well, not offer so much as order), but he couldn’t see any unexpected downsides to it yet. 

The king waved his hand again, dismissing them, and Priscilla got a hand in Jaskier’s shirtsleeve, tugging him towards the dais where Essi and Cassandra already were. Priscilla joined them, tugging her shirt off so she stood in only her skirt and pointed Jaskier to the spot next to her. He stepped up, and Essi gave a quick tug to his shirt from behind him. He’d been expecting that and he shrugged out of the shirt, dropping it where the others had left their own clothes. 

They stood there for a while longer as the king moved over to a desk and rifled through some papers for a while, clearly looking for something. He didn’t find whatever it was, apparently, and after some more rifling he sighed. 

Jaskier nearly jumped when the king turned towards them. “Go. I’ve got to find something in my study, you go to the dining hall.” Priscilla, Essi, and Cassandra all nodded at the king before slipping off the dais, gathering their shirts but not putting them back on. Jaskier joined them, picking his own shirt off the ground, and followed when they left the room. 

As soon as the heavy door swung shut behind them, Jaskier turned to Priscilla. “We’re really just supposed to stand there quietly? All day?” 

She gave him a questioning look and nodded. “Yes, at least until the king wants us or lets one of his nobles use us. Why? What did you do for Henselt?” 

Jaskier shrugged, following as she led the way back down to the dining hall she’d shown him earlier. “Mostly nothing, but I had expensive rooms and I was able to wait there for him. He’d come to me when he wanted me. I also had reign to go out, as long as I made it clear what I was doing; I helped in the kitchens sometimes, when the king was away on business. That’s how I know Sophie.” 

All three of the girls were staring at him now, and he frowned back. Essi was the first to speak. “You just… got to do what you wanted? You had nice rooms? Better than what we’ve got now, or nice nice?” 

Jaskier chuckled, but it was mirthless. “Nice nice. Almost as good as the king’s himself, since he visited often and didn’t want to fuck me somewhere horrible.” 

The girls all nodded—it made complete sense—but they still seemed shocked. Priscilla gave Jaskier a knowing look. “You might have more trouble here if that’s what you’re used to.” 

Jaskier shrugged again. “It’s not so bad. The only thing that’ll be a pain is that we’re not supposed to speak without being spoken to. At least, that’s what I gather?” Priscilla nodded. “Right, well, then I’m sorry to you all in advance. I’ll be talking your ears off whenever I can, since I’ll have to get it out of my system one way or another.” 

Essi giggled and Jaskier grinned at her. She waved a hand at him. “I don’t mind. You’ve been fine so far.” Jaskier gave her a pat on the head and chuckled back at her when she pouted and reached up to fix her hair. 

“Yes, well, tell me that when you have to listen to me relearning how to play the lute—I haven’t played in ages and I’m probably rusty.” 

They made it to the dining room without trouble, although Jaskier’s presence with them got them more than a couple looks in the halls. Jaskier tried to ignore them as the girls did, but he wasn’t used to being the center of so many people’s stares. 

Without preamble the girls got up on the dais, looking bored, and Jaskier joined them. The dining hall was mostly empty since dinner wouldn’t be served for a while, but there was the occasional servant or slave bustling to and fro, fixing table settings and lighting candles and the like. Jaskier’s legs started to ache from standing after a while, and he shifted around, bending his knees and trying to shake the pins and needles from his feet. 

Essi noticed him moving and frowned at him. “Unless we’re being told to do something, we’re supposed to stay still.” 

Jaskier grimaced. “Ugh. That’s frustrating. How do you manage to stand here all day long?” 

Priscilla shrugged. “Practice? I don’t notice it anymore, really. You’ll get used to it.” 

Jaskier harrumphed and dropped the subject, stilling once more. 

When people finally started filing into the dining hall the four of them got more than a few curious looks, most of them directed towards Jaskier. Jaskier fought the urge to glare right back and instead averted his eyes whenever he saw someone staring at him. 

Soon the hall was full and Jaskier had to force himself not to look around. The court he’d grown up in was a fairly casual affair (except in certain circumstances, like royal events) and for the most part they hadn’t had a formal dinner every night. This already seemed so different and the sheer number of people milling about made him nervous. 

When the king entered there was a loud scraping as everyone stood, turning towards him as one. Nobody sat back down until he sat at his place at the head table and he waved a hand towards them. 

“Sit, eat. Enjoy this fine meal.” 

The gathered audience needed no more encouragement and they dug in as soon as the servants started bringing out food on large platters. It smelled heavenly, and Jaskier’s knees went a little weak with hunger as he saw the spread. Dinner hadn’t been nearly enough to offset the emptiness that had made a home in his gut after long days of travel and little food. He gave a wistful sigh as one of the servants walked especially close to the dais carrying some kind of roast meat that looked juicy and delicious, and Priscilla elbowed him gently. 

“Don’t stare. We get to eat once we’re done and staring at the food is just an invitation for them to withhold it.” She had a point and Jaskier forced himself to look away, towards the far side of the hall. 

Dinner seemed like a mostly uneventful affair and as Jaskier noted the meal coming to an end, he relaxed, glad for the coming end to the spotlight they were in. Before he could whisper a question to Priscilla and ask what happened next a man stood from one of the tables, facing the king. 

Immediately the three girls next to him tensed. Whatever the man was about to say Jaskier got the feeling he wouldn’t like it. 

The hall quieted, looking between the man and the king. Eventually Radovid waved a hand at the man, looking bored. “Go on.” 

The man cleared his throat and glanced over at the four of them on the dais before looking back to Radovid. “Your Highness, I’ve noticed that you have an additional pleasure slave tonight. A man.” Radovid nodded. “I would like to humbly request that, if it pleases my lord, we may be given a demonstration of the man’s talents? We’ve seen your beautiful women pleasure each other before, but I believe it would be a novel experience to witness your newest addition in action. Only if it pleases my lord, of course.” 

The man bowed his head deeply, waiting for Radovid’s reply, and Jaskier suppressed a shudder. He got the feeling that this wasn’t the first time the man had made such a request, nor would it be the last. 

Radovid cast a considering eye towards the four of them before looking back towards the man. “What would you have them do?” 

The man shifted his feet. “If it pleases my lord, I would greatly enjoy seeing your newest slave pleasuring one of the women with his mouth, for all to see.” 

A shiver went up Jaskier’s spine at that and he stared even more aggressively at the ground. He liked the three girls he stood with—they’d been kind and accepting and not at all annoyed at having to show him around. He’d expected that he’d be required to demonstrate his skills before long, but not with one of the girls. It felt too much like an invasion of privacy, especially since he’d already promised he didn’t want them. 

The king looked over at them again, this time with a little more interest. He ran his gaze over the three girls before shrugging and turning back towards the man. “I don’t see why not. Which girl were you thinking of?” 

The man’s response was immediate and he pointed towards Priscilla without hesitation. At the choice Jaskier let out a breath. He didn’t really want to do anything with any of them but if the man had picked Essi, Jaskier wasn’t sure he’d be able to do it. He already regarded her as a little sister more than anything else. 

Jaskier looked towards the king, who waved an impatient hand. “Very well, pleasure her.” 

Jaskier turned back to look at Priscilla, who had a determined expression—her mouth tight and her brow furrowed. He bit his lip, begging her with his eyes to understand how much he hated having to do what was being asked of him, and her eyes softened as she looked back at him. She nodded, giving him the okay to do what he had to do, and he smiled back thinly in thanks. 

Unsure where to begin, Jaskier turned towards her, hesitating, and she rolled her eyes before grabbing a handful of his hair and pulling him in for a wet kiss. Jaskier went with it, letting himself fall into the pattern of giving pleasure that he’d learned by rote. 

The hall was rather quiet behind him and Jaskier tried not to think about how many people were watching them. Instead he focused on his actions, bringing one hand up to cup Priscilla’s ass, pulling her tight to him. He wasn’t particularly hard, which was fine, since he only needed to pleasure her. She gave a little jump when he tugged her close before wrapping her arms around his neck. 

Soon, Jaskier broke the kiss and moved his mouth to her neck, kissing down the column of pale skin. He didn’t bite or tease the skin there with more than lips and tongue, knowing how nobles got when their pleasure slaves were marked up, and he felt more than saw Priscilla throwing her head back with a moan. 

He was glad that she was playing along; Jaskier knew full well that he hadn’t done anything deserving of that kind of reaction yet. Hopefully they’d get through this farce and be done with it before long. 

Priscilla’s hands were still in his hair and she used the grip to push down on his head, shoving at him until he knelt before her, eyes level with her core. Jaskier looked up at her, fingers playing along the hem of her skirt, and she met his eyes, biting her lip and looking for all the world like she was already overcome with pleasure. With his back to the rest of the room and nobody able to see his face except her and the two girls to either side of them, Jaskier gave Priscilla a broad wink, hoping she’d understand. 

When her expression twisted, like she was holding back a grin, Jaskier smiled, glad she’d understood. He leaned forward to press a kiss against her stomach and she moaned loudly. Hooking his thumbs into the waistband of her skirt, Jaskier slowly tugged it down, kissing along each inch of skin that was exposed. After he got the skirt over the swell of her hips he gave one more sharp tug and the skirt fell to the floor, pooling around her ankles. She was bared to the room, her cunt covered with a soft layer of curls, and Jaskier pressed his nose against her hip, dragging his teeth softly over the skin there. 

She groaned again and bucked her hips forward, pressing his face closer to her core. Jaskier took the hint to just get on with it and brought his hands up to grip her ass, holding her tightly in place. With broad, steady licks he slowly laved over her clit, working the nub until she was panting and moaning with every breath. 

For a moment Jaskier considered faking it, just pretending to lick at her and letting her moan and whine above him like she was already doing, but he shook the idea off almost immediately. For one, he wasn’t sure how much everyone in the hall could see, and if anyone thought that he wasn’t actually pleasuring her, he’d probably have hell to pay. For another, well, Jaskier was good at what he did and he wasn’t about to make it harder on her to fake—if he could arouse her even a little, it’d be much easier for her to fake it. 

Priscilla tugged at his hair, and Jaskier realized he’d been lost in thought, licking at her slowly and without any real purpose. He immediately redoubled his efforts, curling his tongue and dipping lower to lick into her cunt a little, lapping at the slick there. He was sure her abilities to pretend were top notch but she couldn’t fake being wet, and he felt smugness at actually making her feel something warring with queasiness at how much neither of them wanted to be doing this in the first place. 

He dismissed his thoughts and refocused on Priscilla, moving one hand so he could curl two fingers inside her, rubbing against her inner walls until he found the spot that had her crying out. He kept at it, not slowing or letting go of her, and soon her gasps and moans got louder, building to a crescendo pitch as she rocked against him, screaming out her ‘orgasm’. Jaskier worked her through it, there was no sense in not being polite, and when she finally quieted, letting go of his curls, he drew back and looked up at her. 

Her expression was relaxed, a soft expression on her face, and Jaskier smiled, glad that they hadn’t managed to completely destroy their budding friendship. When he finally stood and turned back towards the assembled nobles they were all staring; some with disgust, some with lust, and some who seemed more confused than anything else. He was well aware of the sticky mess that was his face and wiped the worst of it off with his wrist, hoping he was allowed to do so. 

As he looked back towards the table where the king sat Jaskier noted that the king looked thoughtful, eyes roaming over the four of them. Jaskier wasn’t sure he would like whatever the king was thinking at that moment, but he was glad that at least the king seemed pleased with their performance.

Chapter Text

The dining hall cleared out slowly, some nobles drifting over to rake hungry eyes over the four of them. Jaskier kept himself still, not looking at anyone in particular, and from behind him Essi laid a gentle hand on his lower back. He wasn’t sure what she meant by it, but the hand didn’t move. He let himself lean back against it. 

When the king stood from his place at the high table, Priscilla stood straighter, still very naked from Jaskier’s ministrations. She looked back at them and nodded. The slaves followed the king from the room, trailing behind him and the nobles fawning around him for attention. The four of them weren’t hiding, exactly, but Jaskier noted that Priscilla took the lead and she made sure they were far enough back that no nobles thought to break away from the small group to come leer at them instead. 

Finally the group reached a set of chambers—gigantic and luxurious and absolutely made for a king. There were quite a few rooms, and the group stopped in one of the antechambers, which held small sofas and tables for playing cards or simply conversing. The king sat himself down on one such sofa and looked over to the group of pleasure slaves with a bored expression. After a moment of study he raised a hand and pointed at Essi, beckoning her forward with a finger.

Essi quickly stripped herself of the rest of her clothes, tossing them haphazardly to the side and making her way to where the king sat. She draped herself over his legs and laid her head against his shoulder, his hands coming up to her waist to steady her without looking away from the conversation he held with someone sitting across from him. The other noble also didn’t seem to notice or care about the naked woman now making herself at home in the king’s lap, and continued talking. They stayed like that for long moments before another of the nobles approached the chatting duo and Essi. 

While Essi made herself comfortable on the king’s lap, Priscilla led the other two over to another dais, set in the corner of the room. When Jaskier saw it he had to resist the urge to roll his eyes, but he couldn’t help but mutter under his breath. “Gods, how many of these things does he have ?” Cassandra chuckled, covering her mouth, and Jaskier shot her a grin as they took their positions. 

Jaskier watched the man who’d approached the king bow before stammering out a request with shaking hands. By his clothing, he looked to be some sort of duke, and Jaskier nearly ignored him entirely. The king didn’t seem surprised by the interruption, glancing at the duke before looking back to the slaves standing off to the side. When he looked back to the duke, he waved a hand, and the duke thanked him eagerly, pressing a kiss to the king’s knuckles before departing his side. Jaskier couldn’t help but eye the man up, judging him as he approached. Those clothes are probably last season’s fashion and he walks like a duck, he’s probably lucky to have been granted the king’s favor at all.  

The duke made his way over to their dais, eyes searching over all three of them as he walked. As soon as Jaskier had seen the king look over to them he knew what was coming—he resisted the urge to flinch when the man came to a stop right before them. Jaskier noted that he was thankfully looking mostly between Cassandra and Priscilla, although Jaskier didn’t want them used in such a way either. 

When the duke offered a hand to Priscilla, helping her down off the dais, she went without objection. The man shot her a mean sort of grin and she just smiled serenely back at him, already (Jaskier could tell) in the headspace where she’d started tuning out the world around her and going with whatever happened. 

Not too much time later another man approached the king, repeating the same pattern as the first, and the king waved his hand in permission once more. The man came over, pulling Cassandra down less politely than the first, one hand wrapping firmly around her wrist. Jaskier frowned as the man tugged her away, disappearing through a doorway and out of sight. If he leaves a single bruise on her, I’ll...I’ll make sure Essi drops a suggestion in the king’s ear that the man had damaged the king’s property. The threat was a lame one, but Jaskier didn’t have many other options for keeping nobles in line. 

Jaskier stayed on the dais for a while longer and most of the assembled nobles petered off over the course of the evening. Eventually Priscilla returned looking only a little worse for wear and stinking of sex and men’s spend. She shared a look with Jaskier before climbing back up onto the dais. He didn’t dare reach for her but he offered a commiserating frown when their eyes met. 

The odds that Jaskier would go his first day without someone having him were slim, he knew. As he saw a third man approach the king he tensed, looking over to Priscilla. As the man spoke with the king, she shook her head and whispered in a voice almost too low for Jaskier to hear. “If the king accepts their request to play with us—and he doesn’t always, he likes to give gifts to his favorites—if they pick you, you go with them back to their rooms usually. Most aren’t too far, just come back here once you’re done if they don’t want you to lie with them a while longer.” 

Jaskier nodded at her, missing the rest of the exchange the man had with the king in order to give her a nod of thanks. She didn’t smile back at him, looking too tired to do so. 

When Jaskier turned back to the room at large, he noted that the man was making his way over to the dais, eyes firmly fixed on Jaskier this time. He was a large, boorish man dressed in the finery that befit him as a member of the king’s court, although Jaskier was at a loss to his exact status, given that the noble finery was different in Redania than in Kaedwen. Jaskier ignored the curl of disgust in his gut and smiled at the man with a ‘come hither’ smile, openly preening at the attention. Jaskier was nothing if not one of the best, after all. 

The man barely stopped at the dais, gesturing Jaskier down with an impatient frown before turning and stalking back towards the entrance to the room. Jaskier followed, settling into a pace just behind the impatient man as he led the way down the corridor outside. As he followed the man he couldn’t help but take note of all of the potential exits along their route—a habit he’d never been able to break, despite knowing he’d never be able to use it. 

They finally reached a door and the man opened it, shoving Jaskier through without much care to his comfort. Jaskier didn’t protest, knowing it wouldn’t do anything, and instead bowed his head, standing ready for whatever the man asked of him. 

He wasn’t expecting it when the man fisted a hand in his hair, yanking him forward so hard that he landed with a thud on his knees, hands flying up to catch himself before he landed nose-down on the hardwood flooring. The man let go of his hair, laughing, and from above him Jaskier heard the noises of a belt being unbuckled. He pushed himself back up to his knees and spread his legs for balance, facing the man and staring at his feet. 

“Fuckin’ whore.” The words were disgusted and when a cock pressed against his lips Jaskier leaned forward, swallowing it down in one go. The man wasn’t overly large, which he was thankful for, but he could tell the man wasn’t as much of a fan as bathing as nobles tended to be. So be it , Jaskier thought, and he bobbed his head, slurping and licking at the man as though he was made of chocolate. 

Jaskier hadn’t had any chocolate in a while. As he worked, he lost himself in a daydream about happening upon some. He made a mental note to ask Priscilla if there was a chance he could get his hands on any while he was there—unlikely, but worth asking about. 

When the man grunted above his head and came down his throat without any warning, Jaskier swallowed, throat working to milk the last drops of come from the man. When he’d finished, he leaned back on his heels, keeping his eyes on the floor still. The man used a still-booted foot to kick him in the side, but not hard, and Jaskier took the blow without flinching. The lack of response seemed to bore the man and he grunted again before walking away, sitting on the edge of a chair to pull his boots off. 

“Go, I’m done with you.” It was a dismissal, and Jaskier didn’t give the man time to hesitate, up on his feet and out of the room in an instant. The hallway outside was empty, and Jaskier headed back the direction they’d come from, taking his time. It was the first time he’d been alone in a very long time, and he wasn’t about to go running back just to stand on that stupid dais. 

As he walked, Jaskier looked around the castle, taking in the architecture. It was different from what he was used to—he could tell that the styles had changed over time, that the palace was built in an entirely different time period than the palace in Kaedwen. 

All too soon, Jaskier found himself back in the king’s sitting room, the king himself not there. Priscilla and Cassandra stood on the dais, but the room was otherwise empty, and Jaskier slowed to a stop when he entered, looking around in surprise. 

He didn’t stay still for long, though, and he quickly rejoined the other two on that blasted dais. Jaskier looked from one to the other in question, and Priscilla sighed, running a hand over her face. 

“The king’s chambers are through there, and we wait here while he’s… otherwise engaged, or sleeping.” Her lip curled the slightest bit and Jaskier realized that Essi had been the one on Radovid’s lap earlier, and she was the one missing now. He frowned. 

“So Essi is in there with him?” Priscilla nodded at him. “And once they’re… finished, will she sleep in there or come back out here?” 

Priscilla shrugged. “Either. Usually he’ll send us back out here once he’s come, but lately he’s taken a liking to Essi.” Her expression darkened, and Jaskier frowned further. “Sometimes she stays with him.” 

Jaskier nodded, falling silent. The three of them stood like that for a while longer, and Jaskier felt himself losing his mind slowly as they waited with nothing to do. They couldn’t even sit down, since if anyone came into the room they were supposed to be standing, according to Priscilla. 

Just before dawn, Essi slipped out of the door Priscilla indicated as the king’s bedchambers and made her way back to them. She offered Jaskier a weak smile when he looked at her with concern, and waved off the hand he held out to help her up. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine. Nothing broken.” 

It was only after she spoke that Jaskier saw the handprint-shaped bruises on her hips, plus a couple smaller bruises on her breasts. Jaskier did not like the look of the bruising, but Essi seemed determined to act like it was alright and he let her have that. 

After dawn broke, the girls Jaskier had seen only briefly the night before came to take their place, nodding at the four of them as they switched. Jaskier was grateful that they’d swapped out before the king left his bedchambers, since he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to control the expression on his face. 

Priscilla led the weary group back down to the kitchens for their meal, and after they were finished eating, they made their way back to the rooms they’d been given. In the kitchens, Jaskier didn’t see Sophie. He was glad that she’d probably been allowed to sleep, though he missed her. She was one of very few people here who he’d known for more than a day, and he missed that connection to ‘home’, as much as he considered the Kaedweni palace home. 

It was with weary, sore bodies that they reentered their quarters. Jaskier flopped down on his bed with no preamble and he heard the others do the same. He fell asleep within minutes, drifting off into an exhausted unconsciousness.

Chapter Text

Time passed, and Jaskier found himself getting used to the rhythms of the court. He and the girls spent half their days either standing on stupid daises or fucking. He got used to the ache in his legs, the stiffness that came with standing still for so long. Radovid seemed content to let his nobles use Jaskier as they saw fit, and he never requested Jaskier personally, something Jaskier was glad for. It meant seeing the other girls come back from the king’s rooms bruised and limping, though, which he hated more than anything. They insisted that the king was far from the worst to deal with when he pressed them, however. 

Jaskier eventually was given a lute, and even allowed to play sometimes, for events where the king wasn’t interested in letting guests have free reign over the pleasure slaves. Jaskier would play and the girls would dance, and it was a very nice break in the otherwise monotonous parade of days he found himself trapped in. Those days were the best, when Jaskier got to play and sing, and he savored them. 

He and the girls grew closer and he found himself learning more about them and sharing parts of his own life in turn. In his old life, he’d known the other pleasure slaves, but there had always been a tension between them, since there had always been competition to become the king’s favorite. The favorites were treated almost as well as the king himself, getting the best rooms, the best food, wines, and trinkets. But here, since all the pleasure slaves were treated the same and the only rewards for being favored were bruises, Jaskier felt no such competitive urges, and found himself enjoying the companionship. 

The other thing that broke up his days was the occasional trip that the king sent him on. Radovid wanted most of his nobles at court to keep a close eye on them and ensure nobody was plotting behind his back, but there were the occasional few that couldn’t stay most of the year at court, either because they actually had to stay to tend to their lands or they were unable to make the trips back and forth. 

In those instances Radovid still needed to make sure that the nobles were loyal; he would send Jaskier or one of the girls out to their lands—both as a way to ensure their loyalty, and also so he could have his guards and other advisors escort them and do some poking around while they were there, looking for any signs of treasonous behavior. 

It wasn’t often when Jaskier would be sent out, usually it was one of the girls, but he got to travel a handful of times in the first two years he was at Radovid’s court. He found that he loved these excursions, since he got to see the countryside, something he hadn’t ever really gotten to do, and the nobles he was sent to service were generally much more palatable than the ones he dealt with in court. The first few times he’d gone, the men were so busy actually running their lands that they barely even had time to fuck him, and when they did, they were more than happy with just the basics, instead of requesting exotic acts or otherwise dangerous activities. 

The fourth time he was sent out was about two years after he got to Radovid’s court. He was to visit an older baron, a man who was much too frail to travel to court and back, and so stayed at his barony most of the year. Jaskier, who always kept his ears open for court gossip, had heard of the man before—that in his prime he’d been a force to be reckoned with, and that even now that he was old, he still had a mind that was sharp as a tack. 

Jaskier set off to the baron’s lands without much delay, accompanied by a handful of guards and two advisors to the king. The advisors were there to look into the finances of the baron’s lands, since he’d not been able to make a profit in the three years since he last made the trip to court. Before then, the lands had been plenty profitable, and Radovid had instructed his advisors to find out why that had changed. 

Arriving at the barony, Jaskier looked up at the mansion, taking in the structure. It was less opulent than the palace, but then again, most everywhere was less opulent than the palace. But it also looked more run down than the other homes of nobles he’d visited, and Jaskier took it all in, cataloguing everything in his mind. He never knew when he might need the information, but it might come in handy someday. 

When their little party arrived they were shuffled into a receiving room and made to sit on uncomfortable couches. The guards that accompanied Jaskier and the King’s advisors only stayed for a minute sweeping out of the room, presumably to seek out the barony’s guard to discuss logistics. That left Jaskier with the two advisors, waiting to be greeted by the baron and baroness. 

It was the baroness that arrived first, and she curtsied to them, smiling softly. She had a pretty face, Jaskier noted, and soft, kind eyes that one didn’t usually see on nobility. She also had a bruise that peeked out from underneath the collar of her shirt, one that looked suspiciously like a man’s hand. 

When the baron himself arrived, he walked with a limp and used a cane. Jaskier studied the man, taking in the details of his appearance. His clothes were pressed sharply, not a hair out of place, and even though he walked as though he was in pain, he still held his head high, sneering down at all of them as though they were particularly offensive bugs. No doubt he knew the king had ulterior motives for sending them, and he wasn’t happy about the intrusion. 

The advisors talked first, making a fuss about how much the king valued the baron’s services and how he wanted to pay back the baron’s generosity with a gift, one of his pleasure slaves to use as he saw fit for the week. Jaskier wasn’t made aware of the timeline before then and he shivered when he heard it. The past few times he was sent away, he’d been there for a few days at most, usually two or three. A whole week meant that the king probably wanted to give his men time to snoop, and Jaskier wasn’t sure that boded well for him. 

When Jaskier was introduced, the baron looked him over with a frown before looking away, seemingly uninterested. In contrast, the baroness did a double take when they mentioned that Jaskier was a pleasure slave there to take care of her husband. Jaskier had expected some amount of jealousy from her, considering he’d be bedding the man she was married to, but what he didn’t expect was the sheer, full throated relief shining from her face as she looked him over. It took him by surprise and he had to turn away, lest she be able to read the confusion in his expression. 

Jaskier wasn’t made use of immediately (at least not for his intended purpose) as the baron was otherwise occupied with the king’s advisors, going through his most recent reports of income with them to see if there was anything that could be fixed. It was a terribly dull and boring discussion of which Jaskier wanted no part of and so he stood, dipping his head at the men standing around papers piled on the table. 

One of them finally looked up to see him waiting and grunted out permission for Jaskier to speak. “If it pleases my lords, I would assist the servants of the manor with their duties, possibly helping to cook or clean, so long as my presence is not required here.” Jaskier kept his tone dutifully cowed and didn’t even so much as glance up, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on his feet. 

After a moment of hesitation, in which Jaskier presumed that the king’s men were looking to the baron for his approval, the man finally spoke. “Go help them, then. But find me after dinner.” 

Jaskier dipped his head even lower in thanks before making his escape from the room. Once the door shut behind him he wrenched his head upwards and looked around. It wasn’t an overly complex building and he quickly located the kitchens, which were bustling with activity as the servants and few slaves owned by the baron prepared for the feast signaling the arrival of the king’s men. 

For a few minutes Jaskier did nothing but watch the busy activity, taking note of who seemed to answer to who and where the power structure was. It looked like there were a few men in charge of the cooking, two women (twins, by the looks of them) who the bakers deferred to, and then a handful of other servants who weren’t involved in the food preparation itself but instead busied themselves with table linens, place settings, and the like. 

There was also one older woman who sat in a chair at the back of the room, not moving much at all. As people rushed around her they took care to give space around her chair, circling wide so as not to bump into her. Every once in a while, someone would approach her with a question and be given an answer that sent them scurrying away in another direction almost immediately—but not without a quick word of thanks to the woman. 

Jaskier knew instinctively that she was the one he needed to speak with. He finally stepped into the bustling kitchen and was given only a cursory glance by most of the people there. The brand on his neck marked him a slave, although not what kind unless you had the requisite training to read the markings carved into it, and they had more important things to do than to figure out why he was there. 

The old woman seemed more interested in Jaskier’s arrival than the others, and Jaskier wove his way around the throngs of people before coming to a stop in front of her. He dropped to his knees before her, bowing his head (although not so deep as he did for the nobility) and tipping it to one side so she could see the brand marking him. It was customary to do so when meeting house staff, so they could see you were there to assist and not interfere. 

The woman hummed at him, saying nothing, and shifted in her chair so she could lean forward. Jaskier nearly jumped out of his skin when she ran a finger down the brand on his skin, tracing the raised edges. Touching was not customary. 

“You’re property of the king.” It wasn’t a question, but Jaskier nodded at her anyway, looking up to meet her gaze. Since she wasn’t nobility, it wouldn’t offend in the same way—and Jaskier was deeply curious about what she thought of him. She leaned back in the chair with a nod. “Well then, go on, tell us your name.” 

Jaskier opened his mouth and then stopped. He was Julian to the king and the nobility, yes, but this woman was neither. If she told the advisors that brought Julian, though, he’d be in trouble if they caught him going by another name. Eventually he made his decision. 

“I’m known to the king as Julian, madam.” 

The woman clicked her tongue. “Don’t ‘madam’ me, I’m not one of the lords and ladies upstairs.” She harrumphed and waved a hand at him. “Cilia is fine. And don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t actually give me your name, just what you’re known as.” 

Jaskier actually smiled at that, looking up at her. She might have been older, but she clearly hadn’t slowed a day. “My apologies, Cilia. I’m known to the king as Julian, but the name I was given at birth was Jaskier.” 

She hummed again, looking him over. “Well, if you wish to be of use, then we have plenty for you to do around here.” She gestured at the surrounding servants, who had slowed to watch their interaction. “Although if my guess is correct, you weren’t brought here to help in the kitchens.” 

Jaskier nodded at her again, not breaking eye contact. “I’m a pleasure slave, to service the baron for the week.” At that the woman’s expression fell, and she nodded at him like it was what she’d expected him to say. 

“While the king’s men search this place from top to bottom to see if the baron has been stealing from him, no doubt.” The woman wore a wry grin now, even as she reached out to land a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. She met his eyes, serious once more. “If you’re to entertain Szymon for the week, you should know that it won’t be a pleasant experience.” 

Jaskier nodded, biting his lip. He’d expected as much from the way the baroness had looked at him. Cilia continued. “He’s a mean one, and in bed only more so. I’ve had to clean up girls from the village in the mornings more than once.” She gestured vaguely between her own legs, and Jaskier grimaced at the reminder. “He enjoys inflicting pain, boy.” 

Jaskier nodded again, looking away from the woman. “Thank you for the warning, Cilia, I appreciate it.” There wasn’t much he could actually do with the information, of course, but he knew she was endangering her position there to even tell him that much. He looked to the side, eyes roaming over the bustling servants as they went about their duties. “The baron and the king’s men are going over his documents right now and as I won’t be required until after dinner, I requested that I be allowed to help in the kitchens, so as to make myself useful.” 

Cilia smiled at him and shook her head, leaning back. “Oh you’re a clever one, aren’t you?” Jaskier said nothing, only looked back at her. “Very well, I’m sure there’s something that needs doing that you can help with.” She cast her own gaze around and landed on one of the girls in charge of the bakers. 

With a motion Cilia gestured the woman over and she hurried to comply, coming to stand at the side of Cilia’s chair. “Yes, Cilia?” 

Cilia gestured down towards Jaskier, who still knelt by her legs. “The boy wants to help, but he’ll only be free until dinner is finished. You have something he can do?” 

The woman nodded before looking Jaskier over critically. He offered her a smile in return. “I’ve helped with baking before, I’m friends with one of the bakers at the castle.” He didn’t get to see Sophie often, but whenever they did cross paths he got a hug and usually some kind of bread stuffed into his hands before she had to leave. “I know how to haul bags of flour at least as well as the next slave.” 

The girl nodded, apparently satisfied by his qualifications. “You’ll do. I’m Julie, my sister is Janey—” she pointed to the woman Jaskier had assumed was her twin, “--and I can show you where the flour is. There isn’t much to be moved, but when you’re done you come find one of us and we’ll give you something else.” 

Jaskier smiled at her again and nodded, taking the hand she offered to help him off the floor. “Lead the way, my lovely Julie.” He capped it with a wink, not too lascivious, since he didn’t want her to think him amorous, but cheerful and jovial despite the rolling pit of worry in his gut. If he was to spend the night with a monster of a man, Jaskier was determined to put it out of his mind until he couldn’t. 

Julie showed him the storeroom and where he needed to haul the bags of flour to before leaving him there. Jaskier set to work, humming idly under his breath as he went and hopping out of the way whenever anyone else entered the small room in search of something. It was nice to be doing physical work and he was able to lose himself into the ache of his muscles, humming as he wished. 

When the task was finished he found Julie, who sent him over to one of the others who put him to work running back and forth between the kitchens and the dining room, carrying buckets of silverware. Jaskier wasn’t sure he’d have been able to place the silverware in order, but luckily there were servants waiting for him in the dining room that took the buckets from him. They’d finished with the first buckets by the time he was back with the second, and he marveled at their speed and efficiency as he watched them work. 

By the time he was done with the silverware, he found his way back into the kitchen. Julie caught him and set him to work once more, this time pulling freshly baked rolls off pans and piling them up on round plates that were ornately edged in gold. 

That task lasted him until the start of dinner. When he finally finished with the rolls, Jaskier looked up to find most of the kitchen having gone still, the servants and staff all sitting down or chatting quietly with each other. A few still ran about, but for the most part it seemed that their dinner preparation was finished and now there was a break before all of the dishes needed to be washed. 

Jaskier wandered back over to Julie and Janey, who were talking off to the side of the baking ovens. Julie saw him coming and gave him a grin. 

“Ah, thank you so much for the help, we appreciate it.” She reached out and clasped his shoulder, less formal than the servants at the palace were by far. At the palace, there was always a clear distinction between those that were employed and those that were owned, and the servants still treated the slaves as lesser . Some of Jaskier’s surprise must have shown on his face, as Julie’s smile softened. “We’re not so formal here, everyone pitches in and everyone’s work is appreciated.” She shrugged. “I’ve never really seen any difference between us and the slaves, it’s not like you’re any less of a person because of it.” 

Jaskier’s eyes were even wider now and he moved his mouth a few times before he could get words out. “I—my lady, I truly appreciate you saying so but I—I must beg you not to say such things in earshot of the king’s advisors who accompanied me here, nor the guards.” He swallowed hard. “It’s not… I would worry for your station here, my lady.” 

Julie didn’t seem nearly as worried as Jaskier thought she should be, but she shrugged as she looked him over. “I won’t. But you should eat something, dear, if you can.” The softness in her voice as she spoke to him meant Cilia had made it known why he was really there, and Jaskier wasn’t sure whether to be grateful he didn’t have to explain it himself or embarrassed that they all seemed so worried for him. He’d been a pleasure slave since he turned eighteen, there was very little that Jaskier hadn’t dealt with before. 

Instead of saying any of that, however, Jaskier just nodded at her and flashed a grateful smile. “Yes, I could definitely eat.” 

Hefound himself being led by the arm through the kitchen and back towards a separate area he hadn’t noticed. It was mostly empty, but there were a few people sitting on the bench seats and eating. They didn’t look up as Janey tugged Jaskier along. 

Janey, as it turned out, was a talker. She babbled on as she led him about the night’s dinner and how the bread had come out a little overdone than she usually preferred but how Julie had insisted that it not be underdone, as that would be worse. Jaskier, who hadn’t noticed anything about the rolls that would suggest them either over- or underdone, kept quiet, his own impulse to talk nonstop somewhat squashed from a year spent silently standing naked for others’ viewing pleasure. Finally she stopped at a long table at the back that had all manner of food laid on it. It wasn’t quite the fare they’d served to the guests, but it was a far shot better than what Jaskier was used to. 

As he picked through the mildly stale bread and cold cuts, Jaskier realized that it was probably the remnants of the nobles’ lunch, since lunch was a more casual affair and the nobles generally didn’t eat all that was provided. When he looked at Janey, she nodded and gestured him on, urging him to pile his plate high. 

Jaskier did with no small amount of glee. It had been ages since he’d been able to eat without someone handing him food, and the simple joy of picking his own portions was something he savored. He was careful not to take anything too heavy, since he knew what kind of a night awaited him after dinner, but he still managed to get a good taste of everything on offer. 

Janey sat with him as he ate and chattered away, even managing to draw Jaskier into conversation more often than not. Her cheery disposition made her easy to talk to and he found himself telling her stories from before he belonged to Radovid, when he was allowed more freedoms. She ‘ooh’ed and ‘ahh’ed at the appropriate moments and before long Julie and Cilia had joined them, each with their own plate of food. The meal was lively, and Jaskier found himself having a better time than he’d had in a very long time. 

Soon, though, they heard the sounds of the dinner upstairs finishing up, and all heads turned towards the ceiling. Jaskier frowned before standing up and pushing away from the table. He turned to the three of them and nodded. “Thank you for the meal. I have duties to attend to, however, so I must take my leave.” 

It was probably overly formal, but whenever Jaskier got nervous he tended to slip back into what he was trained from a young age. Everyone who wasn’t also a slave was his better, and should be treated as such. It didn’t matter that they’d treated him as an equal so far—his nerves had him only half paying attention to what he was saying. 

Nobody protested his leaving, but before he could step away Cilia reached out to grab his hand, stopping him. 

“Come find me tomorrow morning, and I can patch you up. I’m sure the baron won’t need you much during the day, and we can find something for you to do that will be out of his sight.” 

Jaskier nodded in thanks to her and she let go of his hand after one more squeeze. None of the women looked happy to be letting him leave, but Jaskier couldn’t let that shake him. 

He worked his way out of the kitchens and towards the dining hall, where the shuffle of people still echoed from. It wasn’t nearly as many as in the palace, but it was still a good number and as Jaskier rounded the last corner and found himself in the room he sighed in relief that nobody had left yet. He wasn’t sure what would happen were he to be late to meet the baron, but it wasn’t something he was intent on finding out if he could help it. 

Jaskier spotted the baron quickly. He stood in a small group with the king’s two advisors, talking in low voices as Jaskier approached. When Jaskier reached the men he stood to the side and waited, head bowed, for them to finish their conversation. 

The baron wrapped up the discussion quickly when he saw Jaskier waiting for him, and Jaskier tried not to let his apprehension show on his face. When the baron wrapped a surprisingly strong hand around his wrist and tugged, Jaskier followed him out of the room.

Chapter Text

Once they were in a side hallway, the baron let go of Jaskier so he could walk more easily with his cane, and Jaskier dropped back half a step, trailing the man on their way to the baron’s rooms. The baroness was nowhere to be seen—and Jaskier assumed she had her own set of rooms, as was customary with nobility. 

No words were exchanged as they walked, although Jaskier caught the baron giving him appraising looks every once in a while. When he finally stopped before the baron’s bedroom, the other man gestured him through the door with a roll of his eyes. Jaskier entered first and used the time it took the baron to close the door behind them to look around, taking in the room. It wasn’t ornate, but had simple solid furniture and lacked clutter. 

Jaskier turned back to the baron, lowering his eyes. “My lord, what would you like—” 

The backhand caught him off guard; Jaskier’s whole head whipped to the side with the force of it. The baron approached him, cane in hand and sneering. “What I’d like is for you to keep your gods damned mouth shut unless it’s full of cock.” 

Jaskier nodded, closing his mouth with a snap. He lowered his eyes deferentially, waiting for whatever the man would do next. 

He didn’t have long to wait. The baron fisted a hand in Jaskier’s hair and pulled, hard enough to bring tears to his eyes as he was dragged towards the bed. Jaskier didn’t fight the grip, letting the man move him as he wished. Despite that, the baron seemed to enjoy hauling Jaskier around and didn’t let go of Jaskier’s hair until he’d thrown Jaskier onto the mattress. 

Jaskier landed heavily, looking back to see the baron quickly shedding his shirt and trousers. The baron looked up and caught Jaskier looking at him and his eyes narrowed. Jaskier averted his eyes, looking down, but he’d been seen already. 

The baron’s cane landed across his calves hard. Where it hit, it was like fire licking over Jaskier’s skin. He resisted the urge to cry out. He’d been hit plenty, but this wasn’t play hitting, or even just-a-little-too-drunk-and-didn’t-realize—it was very clearly the man enjoying causing pain, and wanting to hurt Jaskier as badly as he could. The cane came down on his thighs next, and he dug his nails into his palms in pain. 

“Clothes off.” The baron’s voice held no pity and Jaskier fumbled to comply, his hands unsteady on his buttons for the first time in years. He got the clothes off and lay back, looking up at the man still standing by the end of the bed. 

The baron scowled at him, looking Jaskier’s body up and down, and Jaskier resisted the urge to squirm. When the baron got his hands on the bed and hauled himself up, Jaskier held himself still, waiting for the man to come to him. 

He’d spent the night with sadistic men before—he knew the type—but over the course of the night Jaskier came to the conclusion that Szymon was determined to wring every ounce of pain he could from Jaskier. Jaskier would go so far as to hazard a guess that the man put off his own pleasure in the name of inflicting more pain. 

As he floated in the half-aware headspace he slipped into when things got unpleasant, listening with half an ear for more orders while the baron caned up and down his back, Jaskier spent some time reflecting on the fact that it was him the king had sent and not one of the girls. Did Radovid know about the baron’s… proclivities? That he’d likely be returning Jaskier worse for wear? The king was rather particular about nobody leaving bruises on his girls but him, but Jaskier wasn’t one of his girls, and the king couldn’t care less if he got smacked around a little. Maybe Radovid sent him on purpose, knowing that Jaskier’s injuries weren’t as important to him as the other girls’. 

On that note, Jaskier was torn. He’d not have wanted any of the girls to be in his place—none of them deserved anything like what he was being put through. On the other hand, however, Jaskier himself didn’t deserve it any more than they did, and he couldn’t help the tiny kernel of resentment that bubbled up as he stewed over the fact that he was more disposable than they were. 

He pushed aside the thoughts as he realized that he was tensing up, making the hits that landed on his skin hurt all the more. Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, instead focusing on creating a detailed map of Henselt’s palace in his head from memory, the task just mentally intensive enough to draw his focus from what was happening to his body. 

----

The rest of the night was more or less what Jaskier expected, and when he made his way down to the kitchens at dawn, looking for food and somewhere he could sleep for a few hours, he was bruised, achy and sore. The kitchens were already full of lovely smells, bustling with servants running here and there, and there what looked like two whole tables laden with platters of fresh fruit. 

Jaskier slowly made his way through the busy room. When he spotted Cilia sitting in her chair overlooking everything, he made his way to her. She spotted him when he was about halfway across the room and frowned; when Jaskier got there, he dropped to his knees beside her, letting his head fall down. 

“Hello, Cilia.” 

Her hand ran through his hair and he leaned into the touch, glad for some human contact that didn’t hurt. 

“You look like shit, boy.” Her voice held no censure and Jaskier laughed, even though the movement sent pain shocking through his chest. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he might have a few bruised—or maybe cracked—ribs. 

When Cilia dropped her hand from his hair he tried not to whimper and instead closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the peace of the moment. She cleared her throat above him and Jaskier looked up. Cilia held out a hand and Jaskier just looked to it, unsure what she wanted. 

“Give me your arm, Jaskier.” 

He gave the woman his arm and she inspected it, looking over the mottled brown and green bruises on the inside of his elbow. She grunted after a moment and let go of him, seemingly satisfied (or at least, unsurprised) with what she saw there. 

“Come. I’ll show you somewhere you can get some sleep. We’ll put you to work when you’re done sleeping, but you’ve spent the night working and need some well earned time off before having anything else thrust at you.” Cilia’s tone was no-nonsense. Jaskier nodded his head, following her when she stood from her chair. 

She led him out of the kitchens and along a narrow hallway that Jaskier hadn’t seen before, one that had many doors branching off from it. He followed silently, and when she stopped near the end of the hallway and indicated a door, Jaskier gave her a grateful smile and turned the knob before entering the room. 

It was plain and small, with a narrow bed and a chair and a table, but it was a sight better than anything Jaskier had to himself since arriving in Redania. He sank down onto the bed with a deep sigh. 

It was only after he lay down, curling around the worst of the injuries, that Jaskier realized Cilia hadn’t left when he entered the room. Instead she’d followed him in, shutting the door behind herself. Before Jaskier even had the time to tense up she was shaking her head and taking the chair, pulling it to the side of the bed. 

When he looked at her, confused, once more she held out a hand, silently demanding he give her his arm once more. He gave it, unsure what she planned to do, and she hummed as she looked over the bruising. With one finger she traced a circle around the worst of the marks, a dark purple ring in the exact shape of the baron’s teeth. Jaskier watched, entranced, as she circled the mark a few times, saying nothing, and only when she pulled her hand back did he see what she’d done. 

The changes were small, but as he inspected the spot she’d indicated Jaskier realized that the bruise was fading slowly, sinking away in what should have taken days, not seconds. Soon, the mark was mostly gone with only a faded yellow bruise marking where it had been. 

Jaskier’s eyes were wide when he turned back to Cilia. “You—you’re—” 

She shook her head, maintaining eye contact. “No. Not really. Not nearly enough to be taught how to use it, at any rate, but just enough to be useful for things like this.” She shrugged. “As a child I asked Aretuza if they’d teach me, and I got a rather rude letter back saying I wasn’t worth the effort.” 

Jaskier clenched his jaw, angry on her behalf. Magic was so rare and such a gift that they should have taken her, taught her to use whatever she did have, so she could help people. Instead she was stuck here in this third-rate barony, running the household. 

He opened his mouth to say just that but stopped at the look Cilia gave him. “Don’t you even start with that, I’ve made a good life for myself here and I’m happy. I’m probably better off than I would have been if they had taken me up on it.” 

Jaskier frowned but was forced to concede the point. He imagined her training at Aretuza for whatever brief time they would allow, forced to work in soul-crushing courts after graduating. She would hate it. 

He shook his head, brushing off the thoughts and returned his focus to Cilia. “Well, I thank you for your help, Cilia. I know it must be draining on you.” 

She made a silly noise and rolled her eyes, still holding her arm out. “Yes, well, I’m not quite finished, if you please. Show me where the worst of them are and I should be able to do a few more before I’m tapped out.” 

Jaskier hesitated but eventually rucked his shirt up, showing her the bruises on his stomach and ribs. She didn’t wince when she saw them but her lips pursed as she looked him over. She lay her hands on the worst of the marks, right below the end of his ribs, and closed her eyes. Jaskier bit his lip as he felt the magic seeping into his chest, fusing bruised blood vessels back together until they were whole once more. When she finally pulled back, Cilia nodded down towards his chest. Jaskier looked down to find some mild bruising, but nothing like what had been there before. 

Cilia, when he looked back up at her, was a little green and her breath was coming harder. She reached for him again and he grabbed her hand, stopping the movements. “I cannot tell you how much I appreciate you doing this for me, but I think that’s enough.” 

She gave him a grumpy glare and raised an eyebrow, to which Jaskier just grinned. “Oh, I know, I know, you could make me do what you want, of course, but consider this; the baron has me for a full week, and he’ll surely be put out if I’m not bruised enough tonight when I go to him. He’ll want to see his handiwork over my skin, the marks he left, and if he thinks he didn’t leave enough or he was too light, he’ll just hit harder next time.” 

Cilia grunted and then let go of his hands, crossing her arms at him. “You’re too perceptive for your own good.” Jaskier just laughed, freeing himself of the last of the tension he’d been holding onto. 

“Yes, so I’ve been told. Now if you don’t mind, I’d love to rest and try healing with some of my own strength, so you can save yours.” She looked like she wanted to argue further, but Jaskier levered himself up and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Please, Cilia. I know you’ll probably insist on helping me the next few days as well and I truly do not want you overexerting yourself. If I’m to depend on you for kindness, I don’t think the rest of the staff would take it kindly if you ran yourself ragged taking care of me and keeled over in the middle of the kitchen floor.” 

He offered her a wry smile and Cilia just rolled her eyes again and pinched his cheek, looking fond. 

“Alright then, you little shit, I’m going to leave, and you’re going to sleep . Come back to the kitchen once you’re awake and we’ll get you some food.” She stood from the chair and wavered before grabbing hold of the backboard of the bed, forcing herself upright. Jaskier watched her and she took a deep breath, centering herself, before turning back to the door. He eyed her as she walked out of the room, but had to admit that she was probably fine and he was just worrying too much. The door closed behind her. Jaskier lay back against the pillows and traced the worst of the marks with his own fingertips, wishing not for the first time that he had the spark of magic too. 

When Jaskier next woke he was groggy, and in the dim light of the windowless room he looked around for long moments, trying to remember where he was. All at once the memories of the night before slammed into him and he groaned, flopping back down against the pillows as he remembered that he had almost a full week to go before he could finally leave the horrible baron behind. 

He dragged himself up and out of bed once he was fully awake, and, lacking any sort of plan made his way back to the kitchen. Cilia hurried him over to get some food, eying him while he ate to make sure he wasn’t skimping. Satisfied that he ate enough, Cilia then set him to work helping some of the bakers knead dough — it was hard work, and his wrists ached, but Jaskier didn’t complain. 

The rest of his week there passed without much change. He helped in the kitchens under Cilia’s watchful eye in the afternoons, his evenings spent the night with the baron. In the morning he left at dawn and then got fussed over by Cilia and magicked back to health, if only a little bit. His nights with the baron notwithstanding, Jaskier actually rather enjoyed it — he felt closer to Cilia and the others than he had to anyone in a long time, and he enjoyed the way they accepted him as one of them, as long as he pulled his weight. Nobody but the baron touched him and he didn’t even get any looks from anyone else, which Jaskier was thankful for. 

So on his final day, when he’d rolled out of the baron’s bed for the last time, Jaskier made his way down to the kitchens with a heavy heart. The king’s advisors had reminded him that they planned to leave by noon, so he hoped to get a few hours sleep before they set off. When he found Cilia in order to ask her to wake him before then, she gave him a heavy look and a frown. 

“One of the girls will come to wake you up so you’re not late, I promise. Now get gone.” She shuffled out of the room, leaving Jaskier to his thoughts. 

Taking her advice, Jaskier retreated to the room he’d been given, his body protesting the treatment he’d received the night before. It took some time for him to find a position that didn’t press on any of his bruises, but eventually he fell into a fitful sleep. 

He awoke to a knock on the door he groaned, bleary and not nearly rested enough. 

“Julian, Cilia said that I’m to wake you up and if you’re not in the kitchen in ten minutes I have permission to dump cold water on you.” It was Julie and she sounded entirely too enthused by the idea. Jaskier rolled out of bed and landed on the floor with a thunk before pulling himself upright, groaning again as he tried to rub the sleep out of his eyes. 

“I’m up, I’m up, I’ll be out in a minute. No water necessary!” Her giggle echoed through the door even as he heard her walking back down the corridor. 

Jaskier gathered his few meager belongings before looking around the room to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. He’d only brought a few changes of clothes with him so it was quick work stuffing them back into his small shoulder bag and opening the door to walk back to the kitchen. 

When he got back to the kitchen, everyone was bustling around as usual, but there were more than a few people who stopped what they were doing to stare at him when he walked in. Unsure at the sudden focus, Jaskier ducked his head and walked over to Cilia’s usual chair. She looked back at him unflinchingly. 

“You’re really leaving, huh?” 

Jaskier nodded at her, unsure where she was going. “Yeah, I am. I’ll admit to being glad to get away from that horrid man, but I’ll miss you all.” He gestured around the bustling kitchen. “All of this, here. It’s been lovely to spend the week here. I’ll think fondly of you once I’m back at court.” 

What Jaskier was not expecting was for Cilia to stand up and wrap her arms tightly around his middle, crushing him to her body in a tight hug. After a moment’s hesitation he returned the hug, his arms much looser around her. She held on for longer than he thought she would, and when she finally let him go, she reached up and pulled his head down so she could press her forehead to his. 

“You won’t live like this forever. You’re going to find something better than all this.” She waved her hand, gesturing to the people still bustling around them. 

Jaskier pulled back from her, unsure what she was trying to say. “I—I really don’t think I will. I might end up at a different court where I’d be spoiled at some point but I’m already nearly too old for that kind of thing. Kings tend to prefer their boys pretty and soft.” He shrugged. 

She shook her head, grabbing his arm and forcing him to look her in the eyes. Jaskier stared back at her, waiting for her to explain. She retook her chair, just looking at him for long moments. 

“Healing isn’t the only thing I can do. Not much else, of course, and nothing worth mentioning for the most part, but sometimes I get inklings about people.” Cilia sounded tired and she ran a hand over her eyes as she spoke. “Not anything solid—I can’t tell you how long it will be until you escape that wretched king—but I know you’re going to find a way out.” She made eye contact with him, her gaze fierce. “You’re a strong kid and you’re going to find a way out for yourself. And it’ll be sooner than later.” 

Jaskier just gaped at her, unsure what to say in response. He shifted, uncomfortable with the attention, and Cilia just sighed. She lifted a hand and gripped his own, looking up at him. 

“Just promise me when it happens that you’ll try to see it as the blessing it is? I don’t—it’s not clear, I don’t get prophecies like that, but I know that it might come wrapped in pain.” She frowned harder at him. “Trust your instincts.” 

Jaskier gulped and finally managed to nod at her, still unsure how to reply. When she finally let go of his hand, he nearly stumbled, but Julie and Janey were suddenly behind him, each with a hand on his shoulder. 

“We’re going to miss you, Julian!” That was Janey, and she tugged him into a tight hug. Jaskier was so surprised by the movement that he nearly forgot to hug her back, his arms coming up and around her after another few seconds. Eyes open, he met Julie’s eyes over Janey’s shoulder and found the other twin smiling sadly, waiting her turn. As soon as Janey released him, Julie hugged him tightly as well, squeezing with a baker’s strength. 

The twins, having said their goodbyes, stepped back. Jaskier found no small number of others who he’d met and worked with over the course of the week stood gathered there to wish him well on his journey back to the palace. He’d expected a hug from Cilia, maybe the twins, but there were plenty to go around, and he got squeezed by what seemed like half the kitchen before they finally let him catch his breath. 

He was passed back to Cilia, still in her chair, and she gripped his hand once more. “You best be off, now, we don’t want your guards coming down here looking for you.” Jaskier nodded back at her, squeezing her hand in return and unsure what to say, faced with so much kindness from these people he’d only met a week prior. When he opened his mouth, trying to find the words, none came. 

“Slave! Get up here now, we’re not waiting on your pathetic ass if you’re planning on sleeping in any longer.” The yell from the ground floor down the stairs that led to the kitchen came from one of the guards who’d escorted Jaskier there, and he whipped around when he heard the words. 

When Jasier shot an apologetic look back towards Cilia she just waved her hands, shooing him off. “Go on, don’t give them any more reasons.” She winked at him before he turned back, however. “Come visit sometime, yeah?” 

Nodding, despite not knowing how he’d manage that, Jaskier turned and made his way up the stairs and out of the kitchen, back towards the guards who were waiting for him.

Chapter Text

On the road home, Jaskier had the time to really think about what Cilia told him. The king’s men and guards didn’t talk to him, except to give orders like ‘stop here’ and ‘eat this quickly’, which meant he spent the days walking alone with his thoughts. While normally he’d be working through a tune in his head, tugging around the notes and rearranging them until they were right, this time he spent half the trip home just considering what it might mean, that he’d ‘get out’.

He might be killed; that would surely count as getting out of this life. But he didn’t think that was what Cilia meant. She’d said he would find a way out for himself, like he’d be clever enough to see some trick or way to escape. Escaped slaves never lasted for long, though—their brands were too hard to hide, and since nobody would be willing to shelter a slave, he’d end up starving or eaten by a monster in the middle of the woods. 

But he would get out. Cilia had made it sound like something good, like he’d be able to find a way out and live a good life afterwards. It would be a miracle, something nobody had seen (at least nobody that Jaskier had ever talked with). He’d heard talk of a colony of former slaves in Rivia—something about the king banning the practice and not sending runaways back to their kingdoms when they were discovered. 

It was a nice dream, for sure, but Jaskier wasn’t even sure if the town was real, let alone how he’d make it from Redania to Rivia—and what he’d find there if he did. Nobody in Redania would be willing to talk with a slave about other countries’ slaving practices, and especially not if they suspected Jaskier would use that information to try and escape. 

He’d thought about running away plenty of times, mostly when he’d been a kid prone to fits of mood and melancholy. Despite never really knowing what it was like not to be a slave, Jaskier had created worlds in his imagination in which he was treated like a person, where he could decide the fate of his own life. He clung to those imaginings later on, when he hit the depths of his hatred for what he was, but even then he wasn’t sure he was even imagining it correctly, having no memories to base it on. 

The first time he’d tried to escape, he was thirteen and the palace’s head baker caught him trying to steal some bread. When questioned, Jaskier had spilled everything to him, believing the man a friend of sorts. The baker was always nice to him, when Jaskier had errands in the kitchens, and on occasion slipped him a cookie or biscuit that came out misshapen. 

The baker had sat Jaskier down and instilled some truths in him that day that Jaskier hadn’t really thought about fully. He started by poking the brand on Jaskier’s neck, the one he’d had for so long he couldn’t even remember getting it. 

“What’s this?” 

Jaskier had fidgeted before answering, not looking the man in the eyes. “My slave mark.” He raised a hand up to rub at it, still not looking at the baker.  

“Yes. And do you know what it means to everyone you’ll ever meet? It means that you aren’t a person . You’re property.” The man’s tone wasn’t unkind, and he reached for a loaf of bread cooling on a nearby tray. “This bread is property of the king, son, and if I were to eat it, I’d be risking a whipping for stealing from his majesty.” He held it in front of Jaskier’s nose, making sure he looked at it. “In the eyes of all the nobility, and most of the common folk besides, you and this loaf of bread are equals.” 

Jaskier pouted and crossed his arms in front of himself. “I’m not a loaf of bread! I’m a person.” 

The baker shook his head, tapping the bread with a finger. “ I know that, and you know that, but most people wouldn’t agree. Now, let’s say I didn’t catch you. You would have been caught by the king’s guards as you were trying to sneak out.” When Jaskier started to protest, the man held up a hand to stop him. “I know you thought your plan was perfect, but I can promise they would still catch you. And if by some miracle you weren’t caught, the first person who saw you on the street would know you were a slave, and considering how well kept you are, that you probably belonged to the king.” Jaskier deflated at his words but the man kept talking. “Now, if I were to steal this loaf of bread, I’d be whipped. You, as a slave, are worth considerably more than this bread.” 

Still pouting, Jaskier looked up at the man, who continued undeterred. “So, if someone were to try to steal you , they’d receive quite a harsh punishment indeed. Now, think with me for a moment. If it was you that was trying to steal you, which is what running away is, you’d be the person they punished for the crime.” 

Jaskier winced, not liking the idea very much at all. The man’s point was a good one, even to a thirteen year old, and he’d shaken his head and taken the advice to heart. 

After that day he hadn’t planned escapes any longer, or at least, none that he planned on following through with. He still allowed himself to daydream about it, of course; it was one of his favorite retreats when he had to spend some time inside his head, trying to block out what was happening to his body. But that was all it ever could be—daydreams. He hadn’t dared let himself have more, secure in the knowledge that every person he came across would see the mark on his neck first and see him as a person second, if at all. 

With that thought Jaskier filed the idea of escaping to become a free man away in his mind, confident that it would take no less than several miracles to make that happen. Instead he turned his thoughts back to composing, working on a new tune that he was certain he’d almost figured out. 

Composing took over for the rest of the trip back. When they walked through the gates of the royal city Jaskier blinked and looked around, certain that they hadn’t been walking for that long yet. As he counted back the number of days spent sleeping outside and trudging through the mud and dirt, he realized that yes, it had been the right number of days; his distracted mind had just slipped through the rest of the trip as though in a trance. 

Jaskier tried to shake himself out of it as they approached the palace, uncomfortable with the haze he’d fallen into. When the small procession finally entered the palace, Jaskier realized that either he’d forgotten something or things had changed in the short weeks they’d been away. The palace was much quieter than it usually was and all of the servants and slaves bowed their heads deeply as the king’s men passed by. Jaskier wasn’t sure what it meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. 

They stopped off briefly in front of the door to the slave quarters. Jaskier was ordered back down to his room, instead of being taken to see the king. Jaskier hadn’t been looking forward to that in the slightest, so he bowed to the men before scampering down the stairs as fast as his feet would carry him, unwilling to take the risk that they’d change their minds. 

When he pulled the door open to the pleasure slaves’ quarters, he was met with Priscilla and Essi sitting at the table inside the common room, deep in conversation. They both perked up when he entered, and then Jaskier was being bowled over by an excited Essi, who wrapped both arms around him in a tight hug. 

“Julian! Oh, it’s so good to see you!” Her voice rocketed up in pitch as she spoke, the excitement clear. When she let him go he smiled down at her and ruffled her hair, making her frown and stick out her tongue at him. “Gross, you know I hate it when you do that!” 

He just chuckled and walked over to where Priscilla still sat at the table, watching them interact with a fondness in his eyes. “And hello to you too, my dear.” Jaskier kissed her on the cheek before sinking down onto one of the chairs. 

Essi stayed standing, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Julian, oh Julian, I can’t believe you missed it, everyone’s been talking about it!” 

He turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “And what have I missed?” 

Priscilla sighed and shook her head, giving Essi a stern look. “It’s not something to be talked about with such joy, Essi. We’re supposed to mourn along with the king.” 

The mention of mourning had Jaskier perking up. He looked from one to the other as he waited for the girls to tell him what had happened. Essi stopped her bouncing but still wore a wide grin and Priscilla sighed again, waving a hand to indicate Essi could spill whatever it was. 

“Oh Julian, there was an assassination !” The words certainly didn’t match her chipper tone, and Jaskier just blinked at her for a moment. She sensed his confusion and schooled her face a little, at least enough so she could talk through the grin she still wore. “It was the Duke of Haverford; he was killed in the middle of the night.” 

Jaskier at once understood her excitement, and felt his own lips twitching up into a smile. The Duke of Haverford was not a nice man, and Jaskier as well as all of the girls were well acquainted with his temper. He loved betting on horse races, but when he didn’t win, he drank too much and then begged the king to let him drown his sorrows with the pleasure slaves. He was rough and mean and generally a very unpleasant man to service at the best of times, and it usually ended with the slaves having to more or less carry whoever had been unlucky enough to be picked by him for the night back to their rooms. 

And he was dead . Oh, Jaskier wouldn’t be losing any sleep over the man’s death, that night or any other. 

The rest of what Essi said rang in Jaskier’s ears and he turned back to her, eyes wide. “Wait, did you say assassinated ?” She nodded. “By who? Why? He was a terrible man by all accounts, but I can hardly see a spy risking their position to kill him, or another country taking him out instead of the king.” 

Priscilla was the one who answered him, her lips pursed. “Nobody knows. Well, we know it was the Ghost, but nobody knows who the man is or how he kills.” 

Jaskier’s interest only grew at her words. “Well don’t skimp on the details now, darling, you’ve whet my appetite for a good story, hmm? Why, I might even get a good song or two out of the tale.” 

Priscilla’s eyes narrowed at him. “If you know what’s good for you, you won’t bring this up within a hundred feet of the nobility. They’re all scared shitless and wouldn’t take kindly to the reminder.” Jaskier nodded at her, eyes wide. She groaned and rolled her eyes, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the table. “The Ghost is exactly what he sounds like. An assassin who’s lived many years and spent nearly as many killing nobility. And it’s not just random—he assassinates the worst of the worst, all over the continent. It doesn’t make a difference what country, how much security there is, nothing.” 

Jaskier was now fully invested in the story and he leaned forward as well, not wanting to miss a single word. 

Priscilla continued. “Nobody has a clue how he gets in and out, or how he decides who lives and who dies. But if there’s a noble who’s known to be rotten through and through, the Ghost will come for him eventually.” She shrugged. “The nobles are scared, and rightly so; any of them would probably qualify for the Ghost’s vengeance. He doesn’t kill often, though—just enough to get his point across and scare the nobility into line. If they don’t act too obviously, he’ll skip them, but when they get bolder he strikes.” 

Essi, who had sunk down onto a chair as well, gasped at the pronouncement. “You didn’t tell me this part, Pris!” 

Priscilla smirked at her. “You didn’t ask. Plus I thought it best not to give you any more details, seeing as you’d be stupid enough to try to find the Ghost and thank him.” Essi bristled but said nothing, clearly interested in getting more of the story. “Anyway, the Ghost has been hunting nobility for nearing fifty years, keeping every court from here to Nilfgaard terrified. There’s no pattern, there’s no rhythm, they’ve not been able to find a single clue to the man’s identity or his reasoning for picking certain people over others. He usually goes for men, although I’d wager that’s more because men are able to produce cruelty at a level most women are incapable of.” She smirked again and Jaskier returned the expression, not disagreeing. 

“So he goes after nobles, killing them, and makes sure it’s known. The nobles hide it as best they can, but the kills are bloody and leave no room for guessing about why they were killed. Maids and cleaning girls and laundresses talk. Unless the nobility decides they’ll clean the sheets and the floors and the beds themselves, there will always be whispers when the Ghost strikes.” 

Priscilla coughed and straightened herself up, pulling her elbows back from the table as she realized she’d been slouching. When she spoke again her words held less weight, less ominous feeling. “That’s the rumor, anyway. It’s not necessarily true, of course, but that’s just what they say.” She shrugged, looking from Jaskier to Essi. “But don’t go talking about it around the nobility. They won’t take kindly to the reminder, and you’d probably find yourself whipped.” Jaskier and Essi both cringed, each of them having experienced one of Radovid’s punishments before, for real or perceived misbehavior. 

Jaskier shook his head. “No, definitely not. I’ll keep it to myself, but I have to wonder why I hadn’t heard about this before. It wasn’t like I didn’t hear most of the gossip passing through the court when I was with King Henselt, and I didn’t hear a breath of it.” 

Priscilla fixed him with a stare. “King Henselt runs a rather fair court, doesn’t he? Nobles are allowed to do as they wish, but if they start openly causing trouble or preying on young girls or things like that, they’re brought to task, no?” Jaskier nodded at her. “He’s one of the few monarchs that’s actually taken the Ghost to heart and tried to clean up his court, make sure that his nobility isn’t acting as monstrously as they used to, so he’s not had nearly the attention from the Ghost as our court has by far.” 

The explanation made sense but Jaskier fixed on something else she said. “One of the few? Who else is actually listening to the warnings for what they are?” 

He got a shrug from Priscilla. “I don’t know. I’ve heard of a few that saw what Henselt was doing, but they started late. They’ve got a lot of work to do before they get to the point he’s at with his nobles. I’d heard that the White Wolf of Rivia, the new king, has done a lot to set things right after the mess they had, although I’m not sure if the Ghost has visited there since Villem died." 

Jaskier perked up at the name. “Wait, White Wolf, I’ve heard that name before. Who is he again? Oh, it’s on the tip of my tongue, who was talking about it?” He frowned at himself. 

“He’s the current king of Rivia, but only because they had no other choice. Villem and his whole family died rather suddenly—some sort of illness, I think—and they had to trace the family trees pretty far down to find the next line of succession.” She eyed Jaskier. “He’s called the White Wolf because of his hair. He’s all white despite being barely thirty. I’ve heard it’s rather striking. I’ve also heard that he tried fairly hard to keep from being crowned king, didn’t want the title and tried to get them to king someone else.” 

Jaskier laughed, sure she was joking, but when he met Priscilla’s eyes she shook her head. “You can’t be serious. He truly didn’t want to be king?” 

She shrugged again. “It seems that way. But he was an only child, and the king’s advisors worried there might be a power vacuum if he didn’t agree to take the throne, since there was no clear line after him. He’d run away from home when he was younger, became a mercenary, a blade for hire for kings and men alike. I don’t even think he’d been back to Rivia until they found him and begged him.” 

Jaskier shook his head, stumped. The idea of a man who would not only reject noble blood, but turn to violence instead? “Surely this man has to be soft in the head, Pris. I can’t imagine it.” 

She gave him a strict look. “If you were told you were to be a king would you want it?” 

A bark of laughter escaped him again and he shook his head, still grinning. “I can’t imagine that happening, seeing as I’ve still got this,” He gestured to the brand on his neck that marked him as a slave. “But if it did, I’d probably want no part of it. Gods know that the court isn’t the friendliest at the best of times and most everyone here would be aghast to call someone with a slave mark king, even if they were a slave no longer.” 

Priscilla raised an eyebrow at him and waited. Jaskier followed the train of thought and abruptly felt his blood run cold. “They’d probably treat a runaway who became a mercenary the same way or worse, since he chose to leave the safety of his family. But I still can’t imagine—how has he done as king? If he didn’t want the position, I can’t imagine that he’s doing that good a job at it.” 

Priscilla finally looked away from him with a sigh. “Not much has come out about what he’s up toI haven’t heard much. Like I said, it sounds like he’s trying to clean up the mess of the court. I heard he’s sent all his nobility away, back to their own fiefdoms.” Such an act was unheard of; kings, and especially kings who were rabid to keep their nobility under control, tended to want them as close as possible to keep an eye on them. Jaskier frowned. “What he does all alone in that castle, I have no idea, if he’s not got any nobles there to distract him, but I guess there was a lot to do.” She shrugged again. 

Jaskier rubbed his palms over his eyes, trying to comprehend everything Priscilla was saying. It sounded like a children’s story, like something someone would make up when they were trying to come up with the most fantastical lies they could. 

“What about the slaves?” It wasn’t Jaskier who asked, but Essi, who’d been sitting mostly silent and listening to their conversation. “I’ve heard tell of a city of nothing but slaves in Rivia, one where they’re all equal, and they’re treated fairly.” 

Priscilla shook her head. “I’ve heard the same, but there can’t be any truth to it. Even if there were such a settlement like that, any king who heard of it would quash it immediately.” She was frowning. “It would do nothing but stir trouble, and I imagine that there would be a rebellion on their hands if other slaves knew that there was a place like that. Soon you’d have no more slaves in the entire country.” 

Jaskier didn’t comment, instead thinking about the truth to her statement. Was a country without slaves such a bad thing? He hadn’t met many people against the practice in his time, but there were always rumors, protests, things of that sort. 

When Priscilla slapped her palms down on the table both Jaskier and Essi jumped, not expecting it. “Anyway, we should know better than to gossip like school children. We’ve got to go up soon, and take over for the other girls.” She looked from Essi to Jaskier and then back again. “You both swear not to speak a word of what I told you to anyone else, right?” They nodded, and she breathed out a sigh. “Good. I don’t want it on my head if it gets back to the king that his pleasure slaves are discussing such things.” 

Jaskier shivered at the idea and shook his head more vehemently in protest of the idea. “No, of course not, Pris.” 

Priscilla said no more and instead stood and walked over to the bedrooms to wake Cassandra, who’d apparently been asleep. Once they were gathered, they ascended the stairs from the slave quarters, with Jaskier at their side. 

All in all, Jaskier decided after being at court for a full year, he didn’t hate it as much as he could have. It was worse than where he’d been before, sure, but it could have been a lot worse, and really, it wasn’t so bad. Being sent out to service far away nobles was even kind of fun—at least when they weren’t the sort that enjoyed causing pain like the baron. The next few times Jaskier was sent out, two and six months after his trip to the baron, it was normal and he was treated much better by the various nobility than he usually was in the castle. He got the feeling that they expected him to be reporting back to the king about the way he was treated, but no such thing was asked of him. It would have been a good idea for the king to use his pleasure slaves as a way to ferret out information, but the king hadn’t thought to do so and Jaskier wasn’t about to offer.

Chapter Text

When he’d been at court just shy of two years’ time, Jaskier was told that he was to be escorted to the baron he’d met a year prior. Apparently the baron had turned around his losses and the king was very pleased with his efforts. Jaskier was to be his reward, as he’d requested.

Jaskier supposed that it should have been flattering, in a way, that he’d made such an impression on the man (there had really been more of an impression made on Jaskier) but the only thing he could dredge up at the idea of seeing the man again was a dull fear and hollow disgust. The idea of getting to see Cilia again and all the other household staff bolstered his mood, though, and he consoled himself with the memories of Cilia’s hands on him, healing the worst of his injuries. He wasn’t to stay quite such a long time this trip, so hopefully he’d be able to avoid any lasting injuries. 

This time Jaskier wasn’t accompanied by the king’s advisors, since the baron had started doing quite well for himself and their meddling wasn’t needed. The guards were less in number as well—only three of them were sent with him, all riding horses, while Jaskier walked alongside. They made the trip as quickly as they were able and soon Jaskier found himself staring up at the baron’s manor once more. He gulped as one of his guards stepped up and spoke with one of the manor guards (of which there seemed to be more this time, but that made sense, since the baron could probably afford more now) before getting a nod and a wave inside. 

The inside of the manor was quieter than Jaskier remembered. He was already itching to go down to the kitchens and find Cilia. His guards stayed with him as they entered, though, and before Jaskier could slip away, one of them grabbed him roughly by the shoulder. 

“You’re here as a gift to the baron, whore, so don't dally." The guard jerked his chin upwards, towards the manor's bedrooms. "He doesn't get out of bed much. Leg hurts him too bad. Go up and make sure he knows you're here." The guard gave Jaskier a nasty sort of grin, one that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. "No point in waiting, hmm?" 

When the guard let go of his shoulder, Jaskier stumbled, righting himself after another moment. He had the distinct feeling that the guard knew what Jaskier was in for and took a sick pleasure in it. 

Jaskier gave the guard a nod and walked further into the manor, ducking down one hallway and out of view of the guards who were still lingering in the entrance hall. If Jaskier was lucky, they wouldn’t realize he wasn’t going straight to the baron; he hoped that luck was on his side and they didn’t know the layout of the house. Jaskier slipped down one hallway and then another before making his way down another flight of stairs, and found himself in the kitchen. 

He remembered it well. Stepping into the room felt like no time had passed at all. After a moment, Jaskier took another look around the kitchen and frowned, the feeling of sameness wearing thin quicker than he'd have liked. 

The kitchen was more sedate than he'd ever seen it and Jaskier's eyes landed on Cilia almost instantly. She sat hunched forward in her chair, her eyes closed instead of watching the kitchen diligently. Jaskier approached her and hesitated when he was a few feet from her, not wanting to disturb what looked like a well deserved nap. Up close, he could tell that she had bags under her eyes and it looked like it had been a decade since he'd seen her last, instead of just a year. 

After a moment's hesitation Jaskier cleared his throat and Cilia’s eyes snapped open, sweeping up until she met his gaze. Her face lost a few of the worry lines and she smiled, rising up from her chair to throw her arms around him. Jaskier hugged her back, gathering her tightly into his arms, noting that she’d lost weight since he’d seen her last—her frame was thinner than he would have liked to see. 

When she finally pulled back, she gave Jaskier another smile. “I’d heard that Baron Szymon requested your services, but we weren’t sure if you’d actually come or not.” A shadow passed over her face when she mentioned the master of the house, but she pressed on. “I’m—it’s good to see you, Jaskier, even if I’m not happy at what you’re here for.” 

He nodded, giving her a wry grin. “Same here. I’m glad to see you, but I’d prefer different circumstances.” Cilia chuckled weakly, shrugging at him. “But Cilia, tell me, what’s happened since I was here last? There’s almost nobody here, and I heard the baron is bedridden?” 

She grimaced, a frown marring her features, and nodded. “Yes. It hasn’t been a good year.” She sighed. “The baroness passed away about two months after you were last here, and the baron hasn’t been the same.” Jaskier’s eyebrows rose as Cilia spoke and she shook her head before he could respond. “Fell down the stairs.” Her words were heavy with unspoken meaning. “Always a clumsy one, you see, she often had bruises from falling or walking into things .” 

It was Jaskier’s turn to frown now. He’d gotten a firsthand seat to the cruelty the Baron displayed, his enjoyment at harming others, but Jaskier hadn’t realized that it extended to his wife as well. Usually when a man was a monster behind closed doors he kept it to whores and maids, not the lady of the house, but sometimes monsters just couldn’t hold themselves in check.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Cilia.” At his words Cilia shook her head, waving a hand. 

“It is what it is. I won’t say it was expected, but not entirely surprising either. But since her passing, the baron has been… rather more unpleasant to deal with.” Jaskier winced, images coming to his mind unbidden. He could only imagine how unpleasant the man would have been without a convenient punching bag. “At first he threw himself into his work, the running of the fields around the manor and his lands, looking into everything personally. It was, well, it wasn’t great.” She grimaced. “He spent hours poring over the reports he got from the men working the fields, looking for inconsistencies. There weren’t many— they try to be accurate—but those he did find were pounced on and punished with abandon.” 

Jaskier winced again. He gripped Cilia’s hand and squeezed. “I’m sorry.” 

She shook her head. “It wasn’t me that got the worst of it, it was the baron’s men. He went a little mad with it, yelling obscenities at those who dared question his attacks and raised the taxes on all of the people of his lands, to the point where most are going hungry.” She sighed. “We lost a fair few of our number here at the house. Many had to return home to help their families tend the fields. The work here is good work, but the baron doesn’t compensate as he should and they were needed more at home.” 

Jaskier nodded, listening intently. 

“But we kept going as best we could, of course.” Cilia said. “The servants of the house take pride in what we do and we strive to do it well. But the baron slashed our wages, claiming that he needed the funds more than we did, and we lost even more of our number. About three months ago the baron had a fall, landed on his bad hip, and he’s been confined to bed for the most part since then.” 

Jaskier winced, shaking his head. “I can guess how much that improved his temper.” 

Cilia gave him another wry grin. “The maids have a schedule for who delivers him his meals, so none of them have to do it more than once a week. At least once a day he’ll make one of them cry.” 

“That’s… concerning.” Jaskier said. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to seeing him.” 

Cilia nodded at him. “He’s been rather surly, but as he’s bedridden, he’s mostly unable to do much other than yell. Don’t get me wrong, the yelling is bad enough, but at least he’s mostly been kept from putting his hands on my maids.” 

Jaskier nodded even as he suppressed a wince. If the Baron hadn’t been satisfied in months, he’d probably be even rougher than he’d been previously, something Jaskier really wasn’t looking forward to. He was glad that none of the maids had been subjected to such treatment but it didn’t bode well for him. 

Cilia seemed to sense his train of thought. “He’ll be in a right foul mood, but at least you’ll have a fair bit of leverage, seeing as he won’t be able to get up and chase you around. With any luck you’ll satisfy him quickly, since he’s been without for so long,” she said. 

Jaskier chuckled without any humor. “Well, I can hope.” He shrugged and Cilia clucked her tongue at him. 

“I can’t promise it’ll be a good night for you, but once you’re done, you come find me and I’ll fix up the worst of it.” Her tone was pitched quiet but Jaskier heard and offered her a smile. 

“I’ll do that, thank you.” He nodded at her. “Now, I’m already supposed to be seeing to the baron, I believe. I’ll catch hell if my guards learn that I’m not tending to him, so I should probably head upstairs without more delay.” 

Cilia raised an eyebrow at him. “And when exactly was the last time you ate, then?” 

Jaskier frowned as he thought. “Uh, last night, I think? We left early this morning since the guards wanted to arrive today and they didn’t bother feeding me. But it’s fine, Cilia, I’ll eat later.” 

She shook her head at him. “Oh no, if you’re going to face down that awful man alone you’re going to be well fed before you do.” With surprisingly strong hands she pushed him towards the back of the room and sat him down before placing a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread in front of him. Jaskier didn’t bother arguing and instead just grabbed the bread, dipping it into the lukewarm liquid. 

He ate as quickly as he dared and soon he’d finished off the meal under Cilia’s watchful eyes. When he was done he got an approving hum and she dropped a warm hand onto his shoulder. “Alright, that’s about as much as I can do for you for the moment, I think.” She sighed and gave his shoulder a squeeze. “Were I able to keep you from having to do what’s required of you, I would.” 

Jaskier’s heart softened at that and he shot her a smile of thanks. She squeezed his shoulder once more before letting go and then stepped back to let him stand up. Jaskier stood and turned towards Cilia, giving her a quick one-armed hug before turning back to the entrance to the kitchen. 

“I’m off, then.” He looked back and shot Cilia a saucy wink, or at least the best facsimile he could manage. “Don’t wait up for me then, darling.” 

Without another word Jaskier made his way out of the kitchen and towards the stairs at the back of the house. He knew his way to the Baron’s rooms from the last time he’d been there and while he wasn’t exactly hurrying to get there he also didn’t take too long dawdling, aware that he was already pushing his luck by staying away so long. 

Jaskier knocked on the baron’s door softly, and when there was no response he cracked the door open softly, peering into the room. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the bedroom, he realized that the baron himself was asleep in bed, laying flat on his back. The sight was a surprise but not an unwelcome one and Jaskier breathed out a sigh of relief. Since the man was asleep, he likely wouldn’t know that Jaskier had taken his time heading upstairs. 

As he looked down at the softly snoring man, Jaskier made the decision not to wake him, despite the fact that the kindness likely wouldn’t be appreciated. He wasn’t in any hurry to be hurt. Jaskier settled himself into a cozy armchair to the side of the bed, getting comfortable to wait. 

He didn’t have anything to do while he waited, but it wasn’t too much of a hardship, as he’d gotten used to days spent silent and bored standing on the king’s wretched daises. He let his gaze rest on the baron, so that when the man shifted, he’d catch the movement, and then sent his mind wandering, composing lyrics and melodies in his head. Jaskier had spent many a day like that, composing in his mind while he whiled away the hours. It wasn’t that unpleasant considering the alternative. 

The shades in the room were drawn but not completely, so as the afternoon lengthened and the sun started to set, Jaskier could see the time passing. He didn’t move from his chair, watching the baron for signs of consciousness, and just kept composing as he waited. 

When the sun had finally set, the baron stirred in his bed, grumbling something in his sleep. Jaskier’s eyes locked on to the man’s form and he held his breath, watching. The baron shifted around under the bedcovers and then grimaced, clearly having aggravated his painful hip. With that, the man’s eyes finally flew open and he looked at the ceiling for long moments, sighing. 

The man’s face, Jaskier noted, was much more attractive when it wasn’t scrunched in fury, and he took a second to inspect the man. If Jaskier had seen him in passing, not knowing what kind of a man he was, he’d even have said the baron was rather handsome. But of course the moment passed, and when the baron turned to the side and saw Jaskier sitting there, he sneered, pushing himself up the bed in order to better glare at him. 

“What are you doing there, huh?” The baron’s face was twisted with disgust, lust, and anticipation and Jaskier had to fight a full body shiver. “You’re supposed to be here for me, you whore, not to sit there and while away the hours I’ve got you for.” 

Jaskier cast his eyes down towards the floor, dipping his head. “My apologies, my lord, I was told to service you but when I saw you were asleep, I decided not to wake you as my lord’s rest and comfort is tantamount.” He was laying it on a little thick, but the baron wasn’t one to mind a little groveling. “I’d hoped that when you woke, you’d be well rested. I’d hoped you would be excited to have me and wanted to ensure that you would be able to have me all night long, as I want your cock, sir.” 

The words were bitter in his mouth and Jaskier forced them out, hoping he didn’t sound too unhappy at the prospect. The baron scoffed, rolling his eyes. 

“You, boy, are here to do what I want, not get what you want.” The baron said. “And trying to get out of it, no matter what you try to say, isn’t going to cut it.” His tone dripped with venom and Jaskier just nodded, eyes still downcast. 

“Yes, my lord, of course. How may I please my lord?” 

The baron grunted. “Clothes off. And get my cane.” He pointed to the other side of the room, where the cane stood propped against the wall by the door. Jaskier unfolded himself from the armchair and quickly crossed the room, gathering the cane and bringing it back to the baron, who took it wordlessly. Before he could speak again Jaskier started undressing, shedding the few layers he wore quickly. He wasn’t about to incur the man’s ire any more than he had to and after another minute Jaskier stood bare beside the bed as the baron looked him over. 

When the baron pushed himself up, using his arms to propel himself backwards until he sat half-reclining against the pillows, Jaskier bit his lip, unsure whether to offer to help. The man would probably balk at any offers of assistance, but he was clearly in pain as he moved and Jaskier worried that the pain would only make the man grumpier. 

Eventually after an excruciating few minutes the Baron was mostly upright and able to look down his nose at Jaskier. Jaskier stood still, keeping his eyes cast down as he waited for orders. 

"On the bed. Lay on your stomach over my knees." The baron said. Jaskier hurried to comply, laying himself over the man's lap without delay. He was tense as he lay there trying to anticipate the man's next move but he didn't expect the first hit until it landed across his naked back. The baron's cane was maybe two inches around and made from a hard sturdy wood, and when it connected with the skin of Jaskier's back he yelped, too startled to control his reaction. The baron laughed meanly before snapping the cane down against Jaskier's back once more. 

They continued on like that for some time, with the baron hitting Jaskier as hard as he was able and Jaskier trying to keep from screaming. The baron wasn't careful about keeping the hits from overlapping and soon Jaskier's whole back was one large ache. 

When the baron finally slowed, his hand pausing in the hits, Jaskier sighed in relief. He was almost looking forward to the sex, if only to get a change of pace. But the relief didn’t last long as the baron barked out another order before Jaskier could do anything else. 

“Flip over.” 

Jaskier did and was rewarded with another thwip of the cane, the hit landing directly across one nipple and making his body jackknife up, trying to escape the unexpected pain. The baron just grunted and pushed at Jaskier’s side, shoving until he lay on his back further down the baron’s legs, his stomach and chest still uncomfortably exposed. Jaskier felt vulnerable in a way he hadn’t before, knowing the man could do whatever he wanted and no guards would come running if Jaskier screamed. That had always been the case, but somehow the reality was more intense this time. 

The baron busied himself caning down Jaskier’s front, taking delight in landing hits across Jaskier’s nipples. When the hits dropped lower, down Jaskier’s stomach and getting dangerously close to his cock, he winced and tried to surreptitiously close his legs. Jaskier didn’t hold any special fondness for his cock, at least, not any more than any other part of his body, but he didn’t enjoy the thought of an errant blow landing anywhere near his nether regions. The baron laughed when he noticed Jaskier’s maneuvering but didn’t actually land any hits on his cock or his balls, to Jaskier’s surprise. 

“Don’t worry, slut, we’ve got all the time in the world.” The baron said. His voice was low and dangerous and he ran a hand over the red welts that he’d left on Jaskier’s stomach. “Plenty still left to come, hmm?” 

Jaskier shivered, closing his eyes, and he nodded at the man. “Y-Yes, my lord.” 

The baron grunted again and dropped the cane to the side. “But for now, I think I’m done with that.” His hands pushed against Jaskier’s skin and Jaskier opened his eyes to see the man looking at him with no small amount of hunger as he pulled Jaskier as he wished. “Up, then. You’ll ride.” 

Jaskier moved where he was pushed until he sat straddling the baron’s hips, feeling the hard bulge of his cock through the covers. He gave the baron a sultry smile that felt about as far from his true thoughts as it was possible to get, and palmed him through the covers. The baron groaned, throwing his head back as Jaskier touched him. When his hips thrust up against Jaskier’s hands, though, he let out a more pained sort of grunt and winced, his own hands coming down to stop Jaskier’s movement. 

“Hold on, can’t—” The baron grunted and shifted again, pulling the covers down his body and shooing Jaskier off so he could free himself. Jaskier moved easily, letting the man untangle himself from the blankets, and when the man’s cock was freed, Jaskier repositioned himself over the baron’s lap. Jaskier wasn’t hard, but luckily didn’t need his cock for this part. “The oil, my lord?” Jaskier kept his voice even even as his hands drifted down the baron’s body to stroke his cock loosely. The baron grunted again, not looking up at Jaskier’s face. When his hands landed on Jaskier’s hips, Jaskier let go of the cock in his hands, earning himself an annoyed grunt. Jaskier schooled his face, not wanting to displease the older man. “My lord, I would caution against forgoing oil. It would hurt not only me but yourself, and I believe that you’d want to be able to… go again quite soon, correct?” 

The baron grumbled but waved a hand towards his side table. When Jaskier leaned over he found a bottle of oil in the drawer and he poured it generously over his own hand before slicking the baron’s cock. He knew better than to imagine that the baron would be interested in preparing Jaskier properly—not many men were—-but Jaskier was nothing if not a professional. It still hurt, but he’d long since gotten the hang of taking a cock without prep. 

Once the man’s cock was oiled fully Jaskier knee-walked up the bed and sat himself on it, sliding down to the hilt in one motion. The baron gasped loudly and tried to thrust up into Jaskier’s heat but instead Jaskier dropped his whole weight against the man’s hips, holding him firmly with his body weight. 

“I’ll ride, but I’m going to keep your hips pinned down.” Jaskier knew he was pushing it with the order, but the thought of what he’d face if the baron injured his already painful hip was worse than his annoyance at the bossiness would be. “I don’t want you pulling your bad hip. I know how badly you want to fuck me, but I’m sure you’d rather not be in pain.” 

The baron sneered at him and reached up, tweaking one of Jaskier’s already sore and hurting nipples. Jaskier gasped, his eyes fluttering shut at the pain, and kept himself from rearing back through force of will alone. When the baron spoke, his tone was nasty. “You’re not going to do anything just because you think it’s best. You’ll listen to what I tell you to do and then do it, got it?” Jaskier nodded, eyes still closed, and the baron let go of his skin. When he finally opened his eyes, the man was still glaring at him. “Now ride me.” 

Jaskier did as instructed, levering himself up and down on the man’s lap, bouncing on the cock inside him and clenching rhythmically as he did. The welts across his front and back still twinged painfully, but he ignored it, riding the baron hard and trying to keep the man’s hips pinned to the bed as much as possible without his realizing it. 

As Jaskier rode he kept an eye on the baron’s face, looking down to make sure he wasn’t aggravating any of the man’s injuries. The baron’s eyes had fluttered closed and his head was thrown back into the pillows, mouth open and panting. Jaskier could hear him grunting softly and he sped his rhythm up, wanting to make the man come hard and fast so Jaskier might get some kind of a break before the baron started in with the cane again. 

What Jaskier was not expecting was for a hand to wrap around his mouth from behind at the same time as a knife was pressed into his throat. He gasped against the hand and stopped moving, going absolutely still as he tried to figure out what was happening. Looking down at the baron below him, Jaskier saw that a second man stood beside the bed, holding a second knife to the baron’s throat.

Chapter Text

The man holding the knife against the baron’s neck was gigantic; his shoulders were broad, his arms thicker around than Jaskier’s head, and a mane of white hair fell gracefully down around his shoulders. The hair served to obscure Jaskier’s view of his face, not that Jaskier was really sure he wanted to see any more than he already could. 

A deep voice chuckled behind Jaskier’s ear, far too close for comfort, and then he was being tugged back to lean against another muscular chest. The man behind him spoke low, his breath rustling the hair around Jaskier’s ear. “You’re going to let go of him, and move backwards on the bed with me. Don’t try anything stupid.” 

Jaskier nodded, his brain immediately coming up with about a million stupid ways to respond. He quashed them and instead rose up, letting the baron’s cock slide out of him with a squelch. It flopped down against the baron’s stomach, still half-hard, and Jaskier didn’t fight his grimace at the sight. He shuffled backwards on his knees, the man behind him moving in tandem. 

When they reached the edge of the bed the man gave a tug and Jaskier landed on his feet. His legs were wobbly and he tried to hold himself steady, certain that collapsing would just end in his being skewered through the neck. After a moment the knife at his throat disappeared, but the hand around his mouth remained to ensure Jaskier couldn’t cry for help. The thought that guards would come running if Jaskier screamed had him fighting off a round of hysterical giggles and he bit his lip under the man’s hand instead.  

With the knife gone, the man behind him paused and wrapped his other arm around Jaskier’s chest, holding him upright. Jaskier was grateful for the support but he also chafed at being restrained so easily. 

“You might want to close your eyes; this next part isn’t pretty.” The man at Jaskier’s back said smoothly, and Jaskier only had a moment to comprehend what the man had said and slam his eyes shut before he heard the telltale sound of a knife slicing through flesh. The baron gasped out a truly wretched noise from the bed. Jaskier kept his eyes firmly shut, tense in the man’s arms as he waited for it to be over. 

Eventually the man holding him turned them both away and Jaskier cracked his eyes open, checking for anything in front of him that would have him going woozy. No gore, but the man who’d been standing next to the baron, with the white hair, now stood in front of Jaskier. The dagger in his hands was bloody. 

Jaskier's eyes were wide as he stared at the man, his heart beating a mile a minute. In turn the man seemed rather unconcerned with him and instead focused his attention on Jaskier's captor. 

"We should go," the man with the white hair grunted. Jaskier couldn’t help but stare at him, eyes traveling up and down the length of the man's body. Upon first seeing his hair, Jaskier had thought he was middle aged or elderly, but as he calmly wiped his dagger on the end of the bed, Jaskier realized he actually seemed quite a bit younger—perhaps thirty or forty at the most. 

When the white haired man looked Jaskier in the eyes, Jaskier meeped against the hand covering his mouth, feeling speared. His eyes were molten gold and his gaze was heavy as he looked at Jaskier, inspecting him as though he were a puzzle the man didn’t want to solve. Jaskier tried to look as unthreatening as possible, his eyes going wide and teary as he leaned back against the broad chest behind him. It wasn’t that hard, really, considering just how massive the two men were compared with him—not to mention the fact that he was still naked and dripping oil. 

The man grunted, looking away from Jaskier. "He’s a slave," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fuck.” Another sigh. “We'll take him with us and figure something to do with him later." He waved a hand at Jaskier. "For fuck's sake, look at him." Jaskier could only assume that was a reference to the welts covering his chest and back, just starting to purple into new bruises. 

To Jaskier's surprise, the owner of the arms restraining him chuckled, his chest rumbling with the noise. "Of course you'd say that. You’ve always been too soft for your own good." His tone was amused and Jaskier grunted against the hand at his mouth. The man abruptly stopped laughing, tightening his hold on Jaskier warningly. "You're going to stay quiet until we're out of here." The words were quietly dangerous, murmured in Jaskier's ear. Jaskier froze once more, giving the smallest incline of his head to show that he'd heard the man. 

The movement reminded Jaskier just how sore he was. He tried not to wriggle against the man’s hands, his body suddenly screaming out with the aches that adrenaline had temporarily muted. The man holding him didn’t seem to care—he didn’t make any more warnings or threats, instead just holding Jaskier comfortably in his arms as the white-haired man pulled something out of his pocket and held it up to his mouth. 

His voice was quiet, but Jaskier heard it in the stillness of the room. “It’s done.” Only two words, and then the man was pocketing the strange device again, never pausing long enough for Jaskier to get a good look. Both men’s seeming lack of worry that they would be found made more sense when, after a moment, a shimmering portal started unfolding near the door. It was magic, difficult magic at that, and Jaskier shivered at just how powerful these men must be, that they had a trained mage on their side. 

He didn’t have long to consider the thought, because as soon as the portal finished unfolding, new pieces of it drawing back as it built itself out of thin air, the man holding him started walking, pushing Jaskier along towards the portal. He was still holding Jaskier firmly and didn’t need too much help from Jaskier himself, who found it hard to make his body do as he bid. 

As Jaskier stared at the portal, the understanding of what they were going to do to him sunk in all at once. Jaskier’s heartbeat kicked up several notches, suddenly aware that not only were the two men discussing just taking him, they actually seemed to have both the manner and means to do exactly that. He dug his heels into the rug and to his surprise, the man pushing him forward stopped as well, taken aback by Jaskier’s sudden resistance. 

With his heart in his throat and a spike of adrenaline urging him on, Jaskier was caught between the knowledge that he had no chance of escaping and the knowledge that he had to try . He was more muscular than one could reasonably expect a slave to be, but his muscles wouldn’t hold a candle to the men’s brute force—he needed to do something else, something that would take them by surprise. 

Jaskier went boneless, dropping like a sack of potatoes out of the man’s arms. He heard a grunt above him but the man reacted just a millisecond too slowly, his hands grabbing for Jaskier’s bulk and missing by a hair. As he hit the carpet, Jaskier managed to flip himself over onto his knees. He lunged for the door to the room, but a hand caught his ankle and pulled him backwards, tugging him away from the door without effort. The man with the grip on his ankle gave one hard pull and Jaskier skidded the rest of the way back to him, hissing as the carpet rubbed his knees raw. 

“Oh, no you don’t.” The man got arms around Jaskier’s chest once more, holding Jaskier tight. Jaskier kicked out mindlessly, though his blows landed on the man to no effect. He waited patiently until Jaskier slowed and then stopped after a minute of fruitless struggling. Jaskier was left breathing heavily, his escape having gone more or less how he expected it would. The men clearly had the advantage of size, strength, and numbers on him. The man slipped a hand around his mouth once more, despite the fact that Jaskier hadn’t even tried to yell for help. He hadn’t even thought to yell, trained to be silent when he was unsure or uncomfortable with what was taking place. “Hmmph.” The man readjusted his grip on Jaskier, the hold tight and supporting him under the armpits so Jaskier couldn’t pull the same trick twice. “C’mon, let’s go.” 

This time Jaskier couldn’t fight the hold at all. He slumped, letting the man lead him back towards the portal. If these men succeeded in just taking him like one would a bag of flour, Jaskier would belong to them just like any other object. The silver-haired one had seemed genuinely upset by the bruises covering his chest, which was something, although it was just as likely the man wanted to leave his own bruises on Jaskier. 

His mind was whirring so fast that Jaskier only realized how close they’d gotten to the portal when the man lifted him bodily, hefting him up like a bag of flour so his feet just brushed the floor. The man put one foot and then the other into the portal. Jaskier couldn’t see anything on the other side, just a swirl of colors, and he held his breath as he felt the man’s gait continue even though he couldn’t see any progress. The man continued to hold him up, bearing nearly all of Jaskier’s weight (for which Jaskier was grateful, since he was certain his own legs wouldn’t have cooperated if they were needed) until they were both through the portal and standing on the other side. 

Jaskier’s first thought, once he was on solid ground on the other side of the portal, was that he did not like portaling. He didn’t fall to his knees retching, but that was mostly due to the arms still keeping him upright. 

As soon as they were both through—the silver-haired man following a second later—the portal closed behind the three of them without a sound. The man holding Jaskier finally let go of him, the hand coming away from his mouth as his arm pulled back from it’s hold on Jaskier’s chest. Jaskier stumbled, not expecting the sudden freedom, and had to be caught once more before he fell on his face. 

This time, however, the hand was at his elbow, and he looked up to see the face of the man who’d been manhandling him staring back at him with concern. Jaskier’s eyes widened as he took the man in; he was just as broad as he'd felt, and surprisingly, just as handsome as the man with the silver hair. A set of two long scars ran down the side of his face, cutting through the corner of his mouth—Jaskier couldn’t help but stare, taking him in. 

When the man noticed Jaskier’s reaction he grimaced, the expression contorting his face further. “Right, nearly forgot,” the man said. Before Jaskier could react, he pulled away, releasing Jaskier’s elbow once he was stable. Jaskier steadied himself while the man stepped back, flicking his hair over the worst of the scars. Jaskier winced at having caused the man discomfort, and cast his eyes down at the floor in hopes of not offending further. 

A scoff to their left had Jaskier looking up again almost immediately, seeking out whoever had joined them. It was a woman with dark hair spilling over her shoulders and an amused glint in her eyes. “You decided to bring a stray home, did you?” 

The man with the silver hair grunted at her, annoyed, but her expression didn’t change. When he spoke, it was with a growl. “Didn’t really mean to, Yen, but they were… busy when we portaled in. Couldn’t leave him there, didn’t want to kill him.” A shrug was all that marked the words, all that the consideration of Jaskier’s life was worth. The woman’s—Yen’s—expression didn’t change, but she swung her eyes over Jaskier’s still very naked body. He fought the urge to fidget, willing himself still through years of being leered at while naked, and after a few more moments of inspection, she finally looked away. 

“Well, he should be easy enough to find a place for.” She didn’t sound particularly concerned with him and Jaskier straightened. 

“What does that mean?” At Jaskier’s words, all three of them startled, looking around to face him. “You’re...you’re the Ghost, aren’t you? You killed the baron. Like you have with—with so many people.” The realization had Jaskier shaking, his legs threatening to give out for real as he realized the depths of the situation he found himself in. “What are you going to do with me? What does ‘find a place for me’ mean? If it’s some kind of—code, or you’re planning to fuck me, I’m not—I won’t. I don’t care anymore, I’m done. Just kill me—or I’ll find a way to do it myself.” 

The scarred man was the first to respond to his outburst, giving Jaskier a wry smile. “Well, you can talk after all. I was a little worried you were one of the ones without tongues. I’ve heard they do that sometimes.” 

Jaskier balked at the idea, rearing back. “I have a tongue, thank you very much. It’s not my fault that you were muzzling me like a dog. And I’m—wait, who does that? I’ve never heard of any slaves with their tongues cut out, let alone—” He cut off abruptly, snapping his mouth shut. They knew what kind of a slave he was, they had to know, what with the marks still covering his body and the fact that he’d been on top of the baron when they entered the room. Jaskier had been about to point out that a pleasure slave without a tongue wouldn’t be nearly as useful before he cut himself off, worried that saying it aloud would remind them of exactly who he was and what he was for. 

When it became clear that Jaskier wasn’t going to speak further, the silver haired man stepped forward to look at him with a more somber expression. “We’re not going to kill you, or… do anything else to you.” He frowned, looking Jaskier over. “But it’s dangerous, your having seen us. You can’t leave here without us having some kind of reassurance that you won’t tell anyone.” 

Jaskier threw his hands up and spun on his heel, walking a few steps away from the man. “Ah yes, I’ve seen your faces. Yes, alright, even I can figure out you’re the bloody Ghost, but I won’t—you have to know that I wouldn’t tell anyone. What good would it do me? I’m a slave—it’s not like anyone would take me seriously. They'd just have me whipped for even mentioning you.” As he moved, Jaskier saw more of the room they’d been portaled to and he trailed off, looking around. 

The size of it was a clue in and of itself, but he hadn’t really noticed the walls before that moment. As he looked around, he saw with no small amount of confusion that the room was eerily similar to the palaces he was used to. The same level of wealth was on display, the same kinds of adornments on the pillars, and while it was empty at the moment, Jaskier would bet money (if he’d had any) that filled with people and guards it would serve well as a ballroom. Which meant he stood in either a palace or an incredibly well done facsimile. 

When Jaskier turned back around to face the man with silver hair, he looked at him with fresh eyes, seeing a man who stood with the feral grace that came with honing oneself into a weapon, even as his posture hinted at the self-assuredness of royalty. As Jaskier met his eyes once more, the man—the king —raised a white eyebrow at him. Jaskier opened his mouth and then closed it again, unsure whether the question would be foolishly obvious or foolishly ignorant. 

The man didn’t seem to expect a response from him and instead gave him a small smirk as he saw the cogs in Jaskier’s head turning. He nodded at Jaskier. “Welcome to Rivia.” 

It was quite a lot to take in and Jaskier felt his vision darkening worryingly at the edges as he tried to process that he’d been kidnapped—stolen, really—by an assassin of legend who was also, apparently, the fucking King of Rivia. Jaskier half wanted to laugh at the irony of it all—that he’d never known a life where he wasn’t owned by some form of royalty or another—but instead he just snapped his mouth shut, focusing on not passing out. 

“Eskel, he looks like he’s going to faint.” The woman’s voice was flat and uninterested, and Jaskier didn’t even get the chance to turn in her direction before his vision tunneled and he felt himself swaying.

Chapter Text

When Jaskier came to, he realized with a start that instead of standing upright or even lying on the floor, he was held carefully in someone’s arms. Considering he wasn’t exactly a small man—he was slender but tall, and more muscled than he appeared at first glance—he was surprised at how easily he was being carried. He didn’t open his eyes more than a little, not wanting whoever was holding him to know that he’d woken up (from fainting , how embarrassing). 

His plans on being stealthy were dashed, however, when a voice from above him spoke, startling him. “I know you’re awake.” Jaskier’s eyes flew open and he turned his head to look up at the man carrying him. It was the same one who’d pushed him through the portal—the one with the scar. 

Jaskier met his eyes for only a moment before looking away. He’d met many a man who wasn’t fond of sustained eye contact. Despite his lifetime of learning how to react to people, Jaskier’s instincts were going haywire—what would they do with him? 

They wanted to keep him quiet, of course; it would be ruinous if it got out that the King of fucking Rivia assassinated a noble from another kingdom, let alone if people found out that he was the Ghost, terror of nobility. Aside from that, though, the way they’d treated him was so far outside what Jaskier expected from nobles (was the man carrying him a noble? He hadn’t acted like he was, but then again, the King of Rivia probably wouldn’t trust just anyone to join him on a murder outing) that he kept reacting in ways he shouldn’t, like he was speaking with Pris or Essi instead of an owner. If Jaskier wasn’t so confused by them all, he’d probably have been more worried, but as it was, he was having a hard enough time trying to keep up with what seemed to be the basic rules of the universe. 

When Jaskier realized the man probably wanted an answer, it had been an awkwardly long pause already, but he still cleared his throat, unsure what to say. “I—I’m sorry, I wasn’t intending to deceive.” He swallowed, looking away from the man. “I can walk. You don’t have to carry me.” 

He wriggled in the man’s grip and found he was held comfortably, the man cradling him close to his chest. His wiggling got a grunt of surprise before the man came to a stop and put Jaskier’s feet on the floor, keeping a steadying hand on his shoulder in case Jaskier threatened to faint again. 

“You’re sure you’re alright to walk?” the man asked, sounding genuinely concerned for Jaskier. Jaskier looked up at him in surprise, meeting his eyes once more before realizing what he was doing and looking back down at the floor. He nodded in answer, and the man let go of his shoulder and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Good, I’m…  that’s good.” 

The man paused for a moment, seemingly embarrassed at Jaskier’s nakedness and unsure where to look. “I, uh, I was taking you to bathe. Geralt asked—well, you uh, you kind of reek.” The man gave a shrug and reached a hand up to scratch at the scars on his cheek before self-consciously dropping his hand back down and clenching it into a fist. “I can—if you don’t want me to carry you, I don’t have to, but you do really need a bath, and I can’t let you out of my sight for the moment.” 

He sounded far too hesitant and Jaskier couldn’t help but look up again, meeting the man’s eyes. The expression he wore was guarded, like he was afraid of Jaskier, and he frowned as he looked down at the smaller man. Jaskier shifted his weight, the motion bringing his awareness to the welts covering his chest and back. He ignored the soreness and nodded at the man. 

“I—yes, a bath. I understand, thank you.” Jaskier bowed his head. “I would be grateful if you have supplies you can spare me, my lord, but if it’s too much trouble you needn't bother yourself on my behalf.” 

The man hadn’t lost the frown as he looked at Jaskier, but he just nodded. “Yeah, there should be soap and oils with the bath.” He gave Jaskier a guilty smile and another shrug. “I don’t have to watch or anything, but I’ll be in the room.” 

Jaskier had to fight to keep the shock off his face and from the widening of the man’s eyes he hadn’t done a very good job of it. “You’d—you’re not planning on joining me in the bath, my lord?” Nobody would bring him to a bath just to bathe him. He knew better than to hope differently. 

“Yes, I assumed you’re not incapable of it. You’re not too injured to wash yourself?” His words weren’t joking and Jaskier just gaped at him for a moment. After a few seconds he managed to close his mouth, giving the man a tight nod. 

“I—yes, I can bathe myself.” 

The man sighed a little and his hand crept back up to his face, thumb rubbing over the deep grooves in his skin. Jaskier got the feeling that it was an unconscious gesture, but he wasn’t about to point it out and risk the man’s wrath. 

“Good. I’ll show you to the rooms you’ll be staying in. You’ll be able to bathe there.” 

Jaskier nodded.  When the man started walking again Jaskier fell in step to his left. The position put him out of the way for any legs coming up to trip him but left him within eyesight of the man, whose shoulders relaxed a hair despite how his eyes kept darting back to check that Jaskier was beside him. They walked in silence for a minute more, until the man spoke.  

“What’s your name? I realize that we never asked.” He sounded sheepish.

“Ju—” Jaskier cut himself off, stopping mid-word. He hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Jaskier, my lord.” 

The man nodded at him, humming softly. “Jaskier. It fits you, I think.” He ran his eyes up and down Jaskier’s (very much still naked) body before quickly looking away once more. “And don’t call me lord. I’m just Eskel. No lord of anything.” 

Jaskier nodded at him, intent on following the instructions, and when the words popped out of his mouth he was just as surprised as Eskel. “Alright, Just Eskel.” 

Eskel snorted, looking away from Jaskier with a smile on his face. Jaskier, who’d tensed up when he realized how impertinent he’d been, relaxed a little at the sight, although not fully. 

“You’re mouthier than I would have expected.” The words were like ice water poured over Jaskier’s head.  He flinched before dropping his gaze and staring at the ground, trying not to breathe. 

“I—I’m sorry, my lord, I wasn’t—I didn’t intend any insult, I don’t—I’m not sure why I said it—” Jaskier’s words came fast. He couldn’t get enough breath into his lungs. When Eskel reached for him, Jaskier flinched away before swaying towards the man again, not wanting to be punished further for trying to escape the grab. 

When Eskel rested a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder once more, not making any move to hit him, Jaskier jumped, looking down at the hand. They’d both stopped walking and Eskel turned to face Jaskier, who tried to steady his breathing, keeping his mouth shut in hopes of not angering the man further. 

“Hey, whoa. Are you alright?” Eskel’s voice was soft, like he was talking to a skittish horse (he even had the ‘whoa’, which under different circumstances might have made Jaskier chuckle). Eskel lifted his other hand so he gripped Jaskier by both shoulders. Jaskier nodded at him, not lifting his eyes from the floor, and Eskel lifted one hand to cup his chin gently. “Hey, can you look at me for a moment?” 

Doing as he was bid, Jaskier met the man’s eyes, expecting anger, or annoyance, or maybe even disgust in his gaze. He found none of those things, instead seeing a softness around the larger man’s eyes as he looked at Jaskier with no small amount of concern. 

“Jaskier, your heartbeat kicked up and you’re breathing too fast. I know you’ve said you’re alright, but I’m worried about you passing out again. Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” Eskel said, his voice soft. 

Jaskier hesitated. He was torn between obeying and trying to hide his reaction better, not wanting Eskel to be more upset with him. Eskel held his gaze, imploring, and Jaskier sighed, looking down again. 

“I’m sorry, I know I talk too much, but I promise I’ll be better.” Jaskier bit his tongue, hoping that his punishment wouldn’t include the withholding of his bath. He considered and then immediately dismissed the idea of asking the man to make it quick, knowing the request would likely fall on deaf ears. 

Instead of replying to the statement, Eskel made a soft choking noise, letting go of Jaskier altogether. “I’m not—you’re not going to be punished . I wasn’t—it’s not a bad thing, being mouthy. Geralt always needs more people giving him shit; I’d be glad if you wanted to help out, since it’s a full time job.” 

Eskel was rambling but his confusing words somehow comforted Jaskier enough that he felt like he could meet the man’s wide eyes once more. Eskel’s face was tense as he rushed to reassure Jaskier, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. He looked like he wanted to reach for Jaskier once more but was resisting. 

“I—oh.” Jaskier was almost lost for words. “Thank you, then, I guess. I’m not, uh, I’ll still try to be better.”  Jaskier paused before continuing. “You—that’s the second time you’ve mentioned a Geralt. Who—who is he?” Jaskier’s brows furrowed as he tried to think, wondering if he’d been introduced to someone and wasn’t remembering it. 

When Eskel laughed it made Jaskier jump and the larger man’s hands came up, stopping short of landing on Jaskier’s shoulders once more. Eskel dropped them before speaking. “Geralt, uh, he’s the king? White hair, kind of a surly ass?” 

Jaskier’s mouth dropped open and he hurried to close it again. “Oh. I, uh, right. I guess I’d never actually learned his name, just heard him called the White Wolf.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry, I should have known that.” 

Eskel shook his head, making a dismissive sort of noise. “Nah, unfortunately that’s what most people outside Rivia know him as. It’s not that surprising.” 

Jaskier frowned but didn’t argue, instead looking away. Eskel didn’t say anything more and just grunted, nudging Jaskier and starting to walk again. They stopped short in front of a set of doors, and Jaskier nearly collided with his back, only just managing to keep the two of them from toppling over. Eskel caught him easily and righted them both, removing his hands from Jaskier as soon as they weren’t needed. He looked a little sheepish but didn’t say anything, instead turning and opening the door, gesturing Jaskier inside. 

The room was quite nice. As Jaskier stepped inside he looked around, taking in the large bed, matching set of dressers, and another door off to the side that likely led to the bathroom. It was opulent in the way only a palace could really be. Jaskier swept his eyes back and forth, wondering who the rooms belonged to. His rooms when he belonged to king Henselt were plush, designed to be comfortable for whenever the king visited him, but even that had been more about straight comfort than luxury. These rooms were nicer and felt like they were for visiting nobles or other guests. Certainly not for slaves. 

Jaskier did a full turn to look at everything and when he came to a stop facing Eskel once more the man was smiling softly. “You’re alright with the quarters, then?” Eskel said. Jaskier nodded at him, biting his lip. 

“They’re… they’re lovely. Are these your chambers, my lord?” Jaskier chanced a look up at Eskel through his lashes. 

Eskel blinked, his brow furrowing as he looked back down at Jaskier in confusion. “Mine? No, I’m—my chambers are in another wing. Why would they be mine? We’ve got plenty of room, it’s not like you’ll have to share with someone.” 

Jaskier coughed. “Begging your pardon, my lord, but I’m confused.” 

Eskel gave a wry chuckle. “You’re not the only one. What’s got you confused?” 

“I don’t—if these rooms are empty, why are we here? Surely there is lodging more suitable than these. I can’t imagine they’re the only free space available.” Jaskier scratched at his neck, looking away. “Although I can imagine that the bath would make sense, if we’re just here so I can wash.” 

Eskel shook his head. “No, I mean, the bath is pretty nice for sure, but we’re more than happy to let you borrow the suite until we can figure something out for you.” He still looked confused, and Jaskier took it upon himself to stop beating around the bush. 

“My lord, if I’m to warm the bed of the owner of the rooms, it’s no trouble.” 

The larger man choked. He took a minute to get hold of himself once more and finally looked back at Jaskier, expression unreadable. “No, you’re not—that’s not it. We’ve got a bunch of rooms that hardly ever get used. It’s no hardship to give you something nice. After all, we did kind of kidnap you in the middle of the night—setting you up in a nice room is the least we can do in the meantime.” He offered Jaskier a sheepish grin, scratching at his scars.  

Before Jaskier could argue the point, Eskel pointed towards the door on the side of the room. “Let’s make sure you’re set up with everything you need, yeah?” He gave a vague gesture at Jaskier’s chest and Jaskier looked down, seeing the red raised welts criss-crossing his torso. 

“Yes, of course,” Jaskier replied. Eskel nodded at him and turned towards the bathroom door, pulling it open. When Jaskier stepped into the bathroom his eyes widened and he gasped. It was even more ornate than the bedroom, with a large bathtub set into the tiled floor and decorated with blue and white painted porcelain. A small freestanding cabinet sat to one side, the glass front displaying a wide array of scented soaps and oils, all of which looked very expensive. 

“A—Are you sure that I’m to stay here, my lord?” Jaskier’s voice was shaky and he looked around to Eskel, confused. “I’m—this is too much. Whatever you’re trying to do is—I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear it. You don’t have to—” 

Eskel shook his head, frowning at Jaskier. He held up a hand and Jaskier quieted, waiting. “It’s fine, truly. The rooms aren’t being used by anyone else, and I see no point in giving you a shittier place to stay while you’re here. Unless you have a problem with it?” 

Jaskier shook his head, unable to reject such an offer and risk offense, despite how uncomfortable it made him. “I—It’s fine. I just wasn’t expecting, well…” He trailed off, making no effort to finish the sentence.  

Eskel smiled again at him, even more softly this time somehow. “Alright, well, I’m glad that you’re not against keeping the rooms. They’re pretty nice, if I do say so myself.” His grin widened. Jaskier couldn’t bring himself to grin back, but he ducked his head in acknowledgement. “Right, so the bath is pretty easy. Yen is a godsend and she spelled it so we have unlimited hot water.” He pointed to two faucets sitting on the side of the large tub. “Right is cold, left is hot. You can use any of the soaps you want, although I’ll caution you that most of us aren’t that fond of strong scents, so probably only use a little of the scented oils if you’re going to.” 

Jaskier bobbed his head, memorizing the instructions. He’d not bothered to wish for a hot bath and the idea made him woozy again. He was already walking over to the bathtub by the time Eskel was finished speaking, and he stooped down, turning on the hot water tap as high as it would go. When he stuck his hand under the spray he found it nearly scalding and turned on the cold as well. The bath started filling quickly, the plug already set against the bottom, and Jaskier stood to look through the soaps. 

He was so excited to get a hot bath and be able to scrub the smell of sex off him fully that he almost forgot Eskel was there. Almost. Since the man had given no interest so far in Jaskier’s body, other than to see it clean, he felt safe enough turning his back on Eskel.  When the man coughed lightly Jaskier jumped, whipping back around to face him. Luckily Eskel still didn’t look angry, and Jaskier bowed his head as he faced the man. 

“You can stay in the bath as long as you need, alright? I’ve got healing supplies and I can help you with that once you’re clean.” Eskel said. 

He hadn’t moved towards Jaskier, and so Jaskier gave him a shrug, eyeing the gigantic man for another moment before turning back to the soaps. “Sure.” The injuries weren’t life threatening, and unless they got infected they wouldn’t become so. Jaskier wasn’t really sure why the man was talking like Jaskier needed tending to, but he pushed the thought away. If Eskel got off on playing nursemaid? Well, Jaskier had seen stranger things.

Chapter Text

Selections made and soaps in hand, Jaskier turned back to the bathtub to see that it was full already. He turned the taps off and set his things by the edge of the tub, keeping Eskel’s hulking frame in his peripheral vision at all times. He might actually believe that Eskel wasn’t interested, but he didn’t see a reason not to be cautious.

To his credit Eskel made no move to join Jaskier in the bath, instead taking a seat on a low bench to the side. Jaskier was sure if he were to try and make a break for the door, Eskel could be on him in a heartbeat. 

Instead of trying another escape, though, Jaskier just sunk further into the bath, his eyes closing as the hot water rushed over him. He didn’t moan at the feeling, but it was a close thing. After letting himself soak for long minutes, unmoving, Jaskier finally set about scrubbing himself down, taking care to clean his privates thoroughly and enjoying the ability to wash without scrutiny. 

When he tried to scrub his hair, however, he  couldn’t get his arms above his shoulders without hissing and dropping them again. When he moved his arms up it pulled painfully on his broken skin; trying to hold them any higher would mean doing further damage, or at the very least hurting like a bitch. He was fairly certain that after his skin healed up it wouldn’t be an issue, but it still meant he was unable to wash his own hair in the meantime. 

Eskel had said that Geralt had ordered him to bathe, ostensibly because Jaskier stank like sweat and stale sex. Jaskier worried at his lip while trying to decide what he wanted to do. He’d have to wash his hair, of course—it was just a matter of the best way to minimize the pain. 

First he let himself slip below the surface, soaking his hair through. When he came up for air he breathed deeply, sucking in a huge breath and grabbing for the bottle of shampoo. He poured a dollop in his hand, not wanting to waste it if this didn’t work, and replaced the bottle on the side of the tub. With one quick movement, Jaskier reached his arm up and scrubbed the soap over his hair in a long line. It only took a few seconds before the pain became unbearable and he grit his teeth, letting his arm flop down once more. He clutched at his skin, trying to will away the ache, and when Eskel made a soft noise to his side he ignored the man. 

“Jaskier?” At Eskel’s soft question, Jaskier straightened and turned to face him fully, dropping his hands. Eskel was looking directly at him now, and Jaskier resisted the urge to flinch away. He thought he’d concealed just how much the motion had hurt, but Eskel noticed anyway. “Are you alright?” 

Jaskier forced a grin and nodded, giving the water a bit of a splash. “I’m wonderful, and very grateful for the bath. It was much needed. I just need to wash my hair and I’ll be done shortly.” He almost raised a hand to indicate washing his hair but thought better of it at the last second. Eskel was still frowning at him and Jaskier fell silent, waiting for whatever the man was going to say. 

“Are you—did you hurt yourself? It sounded like—” Eskel trailed off, looking away and shrugging. “Just sounded like you were hurt.” 

Jaskier forced a laugh, which bounced off the walls of the tiled room, sounding too loud as it returned to him. He waved a hand (careful to keep it low so as not to aggravate his injuries) and tried to brush off the concern. “Oh, nothing serious, just some aches when I went to wash my hair. But I can push through it, it’s not a big deal.” 

His words didn’t mollify Eskel in the slightest. “If it hurts you, you shouldn’t do it,” Eskel said, frowning. Jaskier made a face at the man’s insistence but turned away instead of trying to school his features. Eskel either didn’t notice or didn’t care, as he didn’t comment on Jaskier’s expression. “But I guess you do need to wash your hair. Hmm.” His eyes flicked to the soaps at the edge of the tub and then back to Jaskier. “If—I could do it, if you wouldn’t mind. I don’t want you pulling at the open skin on your back before we get it wrapped.” 

Having Eskel sit behind him (or worse, join him) to wash his hair was the absolute last thing that Jaskier wanted. He nodded stiffly, though, and turned around to give the man access to his hair. Eskel didn’t move for a pregnant moment before Jaskier heard him shifting around, finally sinking to his knees by the edge of the tub. 

There was a soft clink and then a bottle dropped into his line of sight, held by a massive hand. “This one?” Eskel’s soft murmur was entirely too close to Jaskier’s neck and he tensed, trying to keep from shivering with discomfort. Jaskier nodded and the bottle was removed from his line of sight. When warm, sturdy fingers touched his head Jaskier flinched, but quickly regained control over his reaction. Eskel rubbed the soap through Jaskier’s hair, scrubbing it evenly over his scalp. To Jaskier’s surprise, he actually did a good job without his hands straying lower, and his touch was gentle, yet firm enough to feel rather nice. Jaskier held stock still, his eyes open, but let himself enjoy the bit of comfort that was Eskel’s hands working over his hair. 

After a few minutes, Eskel removed his hands from Jaskier’s head and tapped one of his shoulders. “Dunk and rinse it, and I’ll try to get the last of the soap out, alright?” 

He did, and Eskel ran hands from the top of Jaskier’s skull to the nape of his neck, sluicing the last of the soap out of his hair. In his state of exhaustion and slight hysteria Jaskier was reminded of how one would pet a dog, from nose to tail. 

Eskel ran his hands through Jaskier’s hair once more, checking to make sure no soap remained, and then pulled back. Jaskier heard him move back to his previous seat on the bench against the wall. 

“Your hair is done. Whenever you’re finished you can come out. I’ll get you patched up, alright?” Eskel’s voice sounded—well, it didn’t hold anything more in it than it had before. Jaskier was puzzled by that, he’d never once had someone offer to wash his hair just to wash his hair , but he just nodded, still not meeting Eskel’s eyes, and rinsed himself off with one more dunk before standing up and stepping out of the bath. 

Eskel stood as well and Jaskier took an automatic step backwards. Eskel must have noticed it but he stayed silent, instead crossing over to another cabinet and pulling out a fluffy towel. “Here. Dry off and wrap it around your waist; the worst of the marks are above there so it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

Jaskier carefully wrapped the towel around his waist, tying it but letting it hang loosely on his hips; one good yank would pull it off, if Eskel so chose. Eskel didn’t comment, only gathered some salve and bandages (from where, Jaskier had no idea) and herded Jaskier out of the room and back into the bedroom. 

Once there, Eskel nudged Jaskier in the direction of the bed and Jaskier went, his whole body numbing. He’d decided ‘no more’, that he wouldn’t let them do what they wanted with him, but weary and facing the reality of the man standing behind him, Jaskier’s body went on autopilot and he found himself walking over and climbing up on the bed. His exhaustion overpowered his determination to resist, and he lay down on his stomach before closing his eyes against the pillow. 

After another minute the bed dipped but Eskel didn’t move to touch him, to Jaskier’s surprise. Instead he heard a sigh from his side and then a quiet voice. 

“I’m sorry, I know you probably—I’d rather not use the bed, but I’m not about to make you lay down on a table and this way at least you can just sleep after. It’s been a long enough day for you.” Jaskier was tired, and he agreed that if Eskel was going to fuck him, he preferred the more comfortable surface over a hard table. Instead of vocalizing that, Jaskier just grunted into his pillow, already floating halfway between awareness of his body and vacating the premises for a while. Eskel sighed again and Jaskier felt the bed shift. 

“I’m going to clean and bandage the places where your skin was broken. Whatever it was, it looks like it only really broke skin where the hits overlapped.” Eskel’s voice was behind him now, and Jaskier didn’t bother answering him. He felt a hand on his shoulder blade, two fingers resting lightly on his skin. “Jaskier, I know you’re probably halfway asleep, but I want you to be aware of what I’ll be doing. I don’t think any of these are deep enough to need stitching, and I’ll tell you if I change my mind on that, but the solution I’m going to clean them with will probably sting a little. If anything hurts more than that, tell me, alright?” 

Jaskier grunted once more, in acknowledgement of the man’s question rather than any intentions of actually letting him know if something hurt. Eskel removed the fingers from his shoulder and then Jaskier heard the slosh of a bottle a few times in rapid succession. The cloth that pressed against his lower back did in fact sting, the pain of it novel enough that he grunted, tensing under Eskel’s hand. 

Another hand pressed against his side, the thumb drawing up and down in a soothing manner. “I know, but I don’t want them getting infected.” Eskel’s tone was soft and he kept pressing that stinging, damp cloth along Jaskier’s back, making him jump every time it hit another break in his skin. 

Eskel’s other hand stayed pressed to Jaskier’s side, a warm counterpoint to the now cold cloth that he kept wiping up Jaskier’s back. His palm was broad and the presence of it was strangely grounding. Jaskier found himself not hating the touch. 

Once he finished disinfecting all of the cuts on Jaskier’s back, Eskel drew away again. Jaskier heard more rustling behind himself but couldn’t be bothered to tense up, and instead only waited for whatever would come next. 

Soft bandages settled over all of the places his skin was broken, followed by tape holding them in place. It felt like Eskel was taking care to put them over even the smallest of cuts.  Jaskier didn’t bother questioning it, only waited for the man to finish. 

Once every inch of broken skin was covered, Eskel lay a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder blade once more. “Jaskier? Can you turn over so I can get your front?” 

He did, not moving any more than that. When he heard more sloshing he opened his eyes to find Eskel rewetting that damned cloth, and Jaskier couldn’t help the groan he let out at that point. “Ugh, must you?” The complaint was much harsher than anything Jaskier would usually dare say, but the stress and exhaustion of the day was getting to him, and he found it hard to muster up more than mild worry at the reaction his words might garner. 

When he looked up, meeting Eskel’s eyes, the larger man’s brow was furrowed and his mouth was pinched in confusion. He reached out but then paused, cloth still in hand. “I’d really rather not skip cleaning them—that’s just asking for them to get infected. I know it hurts, but can you hold on a little longer? I can try and go faster.” 

Jaskier sighed and stared at the ceiling before nodding at the large man by his side. “Sure, of course.” What little fight he’d rallied dissolved quickly and he sunk back into the bed, limp and pliable. Eskel still seemed a bit confused at Jaskier’s sudden acquiescence, but he didn’t comment, instead dragging the stinging cloth over Jaskier’s lower stomach. The spot he started at tickled and Jaskier couldn’t stifle his automatic reaction fast enough, grinning and batting ineffectually with his hands at Eskel’s fingers. Eskel stopped immediately, drawing his hands back, and Jaskier looked up at him, eyes wide in question. 

“Why’d you stop? I thought you said you were gonna do it.” Jaskier swallowed a few times in quick succession, his mouth suddenly dry. 

“You were trying to get me to stop, so I stopped. I wasn’t sure if there was a spot where you were tender, or something.” Eskel sounded matter of fact but when Jaskier looked at his face the man was still frowning that little frown. 

Jaskier suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, and waved a hand through the air. “Just ticklish, you don’t have to stop. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” 

Eskel didn’t lose the frown. Jaskier was certain that if he didn’t change it up, his face might stick like that. Instead of voicing his thoughts, though, he just lay back against the pillow, making himself comfortable and sliding his hands under his back so he wouldn’t be tempted to bat at Eskel’s hands anymore. 

When the cloth came back Eskel’s touch was firmer, intended to keep from tickling him as he wiped up the few trickles of blood that had seeped from Jaskier’s welts. The stinging of the cloth was nothing more than background noise now. 

As Eskel worked, Jaskier took the time to examine his face. He was focused on Jaskier’s body, but not in the way Jaskier would have thought—his tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth and he stared down at where his hand was, making sure he covered every inch of skin with smooth strokes of the disinfectant. His gaze wasn’t possessive, or wanting, or greedy—instead, he regarded Jaskier’s body clinically. 

Jaskier, more awake now that his face wasn’t mashed into the pillow, watched as Eskel worked, wiping the stinging liquid over Jaskier’s skin and carefully bandaging each place where the cane marks overlapped and the skin was broken. He took more care than Jaskier would have expected. 

Finally Eskel seemed satisfied with Jaskier’s chest, leaning back on his heels and turning towards the supplies beside him. Jaskier watched him roll up the excess bandages and then place everything  on the bedside table, within reach of Jaskier. After, he slid backwards off the bed, landing on his feet with a quiet thump. 

As he watched the larger man, Jaskier tried to figure out what he was doing and why he’d left the bed instead of just taking what he wanted. Eskel seemed not to notice Jaskier’s look of intent and instead puttered around the room for a few moments, straightening things and shooting Jaskier glances every once in a while. After a minute, he came to a stop by the door, facing Jaskier. 

“Alright, well, you should probably sleep. I’m sure you must be hungry as well, but I think sleep should come first. I’ll send someone up with a tray at some point, but it won’t be for a while, so don’t wait up.” Eskel’s words were measured, like he was trying to impart some information, but Jaskier couldn’t do much more than look at him in confusion. 

“What?” Jaskier asked. Eskel’s eyes widened and he looked back at Jaskier, unsure what the question was. Jaskier had to pause to breathe before pushing himself up in the bed with his arms, cringing as the movement pulled at his bandages. “Are you going somewhere?” 

Eskel, to Jaskier’s surprise, winced. “I, well, I—I didn’t think you’d want me to sit with you while you were asleep, although I’d understand if you don’t want to be left alone. I can stay, if that’s what you want.” He gave Jaskier a half shrug and Jaskier just gaped at him. 

“But what about—I mean, you’re not planning on fucking me?” Far be it from Jaskier to be the one to make the suggestion, but the care and comfort the man had provided him that night went far beyond anything he could have asked for and surely, surely Eskel hadn’t done it out of the goodness of his heart. There had to be something he needed from Jaskier, and Jaskier wasn’t about to wait around and try to figure out what it was on his own. He was ready to repay Eskel however he wanted and be done with the debt. 

Instead of agreeing, though, Eskel just gaped back at Jaskier, seemingly just as startled or even more than Jaskier was. “I’m—no! Why would I—I’d never, I wouldn’t force you.” His face was red but he held Jaskier’s eyes, expression determined. “I promise, you won’t ever have to do anything that you don’t want to again. Rivia has no slavery.” 

Jaskier blinked at him. 

“Uh, excuse me, I think I misheard you there.” 

Eskel shook his head with an earnest grin. “Nope. Geralt outlawed the practice. No slavery. You’re a free man while you’re here.” 

Jaskier cocked his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “Hmm, free, am I? So if I told you that I wanted to leave here right now and not be a prisoner? Would you let me go?” 

Eskel shuffled his feet, looking guilty and finally breaking eye contact. “That’s—that’s different. I don’t—nobody wants you to feel trapped here, and once we figure out a solution, you’ll be able to do whatever you want and if that includes leaving, that’s fine.” He reached up to scratch at the scars on his face. “But I really mean it, Jaskier, I’m not—if anyone ever tries to touch you or force you to—to do anything like what’s been done to you before, you come to me and I’ll make sure they face consequences. Nobody is allowed to mistreat another person like that here, no matter who they are.” 

Jaskier sighed, running his hands over his face and wincing as the motion pulled at his healing skin. “Yeah, well, I’ll believe that when I see it.” His voice was low but as he looked up, the expression on Eskel’s face said he’d heard Jaskier’s words. Jaskier spoke up, talking louder now. “But either way, you’ve been far too kind to me, and I’m in your debt. Surely you want something in return? Name it and I’ll do it. I’d rather pay you back now than wait.” 

Eskel opened his mouth and then closed it again, seemingly at a loss. He took a moment and then opened his mouth to try again. “Jaskier, I don’t want anything from you. You’re injured and a guest—I’d want you to be taken care of just like I would anyone else that lives here.” He scratched at his scars again. “You act like you expect us to be monsters. I don’t—I can’t blame you for that, but I—we try not to be monsters. You have every right not to believe me, but I hope that you’ll be able to see that eventually. Nobody is going to hurt you.” 

Jaskier scoffed but said nothing else, letting his arms fall down from where they’d been crossed tightly over his chest. He wanted to be more disbelieving, to argue the point further, but the exhaustion of the day was wearing on him and now that Eskel seemed like he really wasn’t planning on having Jaskier, the last of the low grade adrenaline was leeching out of his system, making him so drowsy that he couldn’t really put up much of a fight. 

“Alright.” His eyelids were already drooping and Jaskier could barely focus his eyes on Eskel, who gave him a half-smile that was more sad than optimistic. 

“Alright. I’ll have food brought up to you later.” He bit his lip, looking at Jaskier with an expression Jaskier couldn’t read. “I’m going to lock the door from the outside, so don’t be too worried if you wake up and it’s locked. I don’t—I trust you, but what you said earlier, about killing yourself instead of being owned, well.” His hand rubbed harder at his scars. “We want to make sure you’re safe, at least until we know you’re not going to try something like that.” 

Jaskier wanted to argue but when he opened his mouth the only thing that came out was a long yawn. He covered his mouth and nodded at Eskel, not bothering to belabor the point at the moment. Eskel hesitated, looking like he wanted to say something more, but instead gave Jaskier one more look before slipping out the door. It clicked heavily behind him and Jaskier flopped backwards in the bed, giving up on holding himself up. 

“What the fuck .” 

Despite the urge to try and catalogue the day he’d had and try to figure out where everything went so wrong, Jaskier felt sleep pulling inexorably at him. He shuffled down on the bed, pulling the covers up and over his legs until he was warm and cocooned inside the blankets, feeling safer than he had in a long time, despite the situation he found himself in. He nodded off quickly, drifting into the dreamless sleep of the truly exhausted.

Chapter Text

Upon waking up the next morning, Jaskier was more confused than anything else. He was far more comfortable than he should have been, and the blankets covering him were much higher quality than the bedcovers on his own bed in the palace. His brain switched into a low gear and he first remembered that he’d been sent to the baron—to please him—and it took another few sluggish moments of thought for him to actually recall the events of the night before. 

Finally reconciling everything that had happened to him, Jaskier sat straight up in bed and winced immediately, falling backwards with a groan. Despite the care Eskel had taken, his chest and back ached , the pain of the welts from the baron’s ministrations only intensified after a night of sleeping on them. 

After another few minutes he felt okay enough to try again and on the second try he rolled onto his side towards the edge of the bed. The slower movement helped and he sat up on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the sleep. 

Yawning, Jaskier looked around the room, inspecting it more closely than he had the night before. Sun streamed in from windows set high up on the walls, indicating that it was at least late morning, although Jaskier suspected it was closer to afternoon. The windows themselves were plentiful but narrow, covered with stiff, decorative iron bars that made it impossible for even a child to slip through. Jaskier recalled Eskel’s parting words from the night before and frowned to himself, looking up at the windows and feeling his mood grow surly. He’d made the mistake of showing his hand and now they were taking all the steps to make sure he couldn’t escape their captivity one way or another. 

Maybe he’d be able to wear down their guard, wait until they trusted him with more freedoms before trying to escape. Reminded of their determination to keep him from doing anything untoward, Jaskier padded barefoot over to the door to try the handle. It was locked, of course, and the keyhole so odd that he couldn’t have hoped to pick it. Jaskier sighed and leaned his back against the door, wondering what he was supposed to do now. 

As he stood there, his eyes lit on a table off to the side, on which there sat a wide spread of food; a variety of plates was set out, each with a different dish. He stepped closer and realized that most of it was food that would be fine sitting out for a while, pastries and cured meats and the like, and had to wonder how long it’d been since someone had left it there for him. 

He pulled over one of the plush, embroidered chairs and sat on the very edge, not wanting to spill anything on it. When he poured himself a glass of juice from the pitcher, he found that it hadn’t yet become room temperature. Had Eskel been the one to drop the food off, or had he sent someone like he’d said he would? Jaskier wouldn’t be surprised if someone had checked on him periodically while he slept.

The food, while it wasn’t hot, was rich fare. Jaskier groaned when he bit into a flaky pastry, apple jam spilling out of the slits cut into the top. It wasn’t warm from the oven, but fresh enough that he guessed it had been made that morning or the night before at the earliest. It was a far cry better than the food he normally got—bland sludge comparable to oatmeal, and sometimes older pastries so stale that they threatened one’s teeth. To have something both fresh and delicious was a rare treat, and he had to force himself not to wolf down as much as he could in one go.

Carefully, Jaskier sampled every different kind of pastry—he decided his favorites were the ones that had both jelly and a soft cheese inside of them, so stuffed with the fillings that they oozed if he didn’t lick off the excess immediately. He didn’t eat the entire plate, but it was a close thing. 

Next he perused the tray with a glass cover over it, with dozens of thinly-sliced meats that smelled absolutely delicious when he leaned forward to inhale their scent. He wouldn’t have been able to guess which was what animal, but they were all delicious, and he spent a few minutes folding a couple layers of the thin meats together with cheese slices he found on another plate. 

Jaskier only stopped eating when he was sure he couldn’t fit another bite inside him. He leaned back in the chair, rubbing a hand over his stomach indolently. He’d never had the chance to eat as much as he liked, not really, and having his choice of what to eat next might have led to him eating rather more than he’d intended. It was all so good , though, and he couldn’t find it in himself to worry about whether they would be angry. Surely if they hadn’t wanted him to eat everything, they wouldn’t have brought so much for him? 

Managing to drag himself back over to the bed, Jaskier flopped back down on his side, not wanting to put pressure on any of his bandages, and closed his eyes once more. Good food and a warm room had him feeling sleepy again and he gave in to the urge to nap, reasoning with himself that if he was going to face whatever it was they planned for him, he might as well be as well-fed and well-rested as possible. 

Half-asleep and dozing, it took Jaskier a few moments to realize when the door to the room was unlocked, the click echoing in the quiet room and stirring his thoughts. He managed to push himself upright by the time a soft knock sounded, preceding the door opening. Jaskier found himself sitting up in bed, eyeing Eskel as he shuffled inside and closed the door behind himself. 

Eskel, to his credit, gave Jaskier a hopeful smile and bobbed his head like Jaskier was the one who should be annoyed at the interruption. “You had a good night’s sleep, then?” 

Unsure what answer the man was looking for exactly, Jaskier kept silent, only offering a shrug and a nod back. As Eskel crossed the room, he paused for a moment, looking at what little food Jaskier had left uneaten. His approach made Jaskier tense, but only a little. The soft treatment from the night before reassured him that the man probably didn’t want anything Jaskier wasn’t willing to give. 

Eskel came to a stop at his side, looking down at him. “I’m glad to hear it.” The silence hung a bit awkwardly between them but Jaskier didn’t feel a pressing need to fill it.  He watched Eskel shift his weight, one of his hands snaking up his chest to rub over his scars on his face before he dropped it back down. 

Jaskier also noted that Eskel was dressed more casually than he had been the night before—he wore a soft, loose shirt that rather fetchingly emphasized his arms and the broadness of his chest. Whereas the night before he’d had armor, he now looked like a man who spent his days doing something more gentle than fighting, like accounting or advising a king. 

The bulging muscles betrayed that image a bit, and Jaskier found himself unsure whether he was unsettled or comforted by the man’s changed appearance. Some of the worst men he’d dealt with were soldiers—men who’d been trained to treat those that were other harshly and let that philosophy continue into the bedroom (or hallway, or staircase, as some of them were far too impatient to have him to get to an actual bed). 

But every once in a while there would be a man who’d softly ask the king to use Jaskier, make gentle eyes at him from across a room, his body unhardened from labor. He’d seem for all the world like a gentleman, someone a whore would be glad to bed. And then in the privacy or his rooms (for it was this kind of man that was always patient, always insistent on using them somewhere out of sight) he’d transform into a monster of the worst kind. Jaskier had learned to fear the softer men just as much as the ones who looked outwardly hardened by life, appearances deceiving. 

But he hadn’t gotten even an inkling that Eskel was one of those men, even if this new, softer look on him set alarm bells ringing in Jaskier’s head. If he were that type of man, he’d have done something the day before, surely—that kind of man couldn’t see someone beaten down and not want to add to it. 

With his thoughts whirling, Jaskier only realized he’d been staring blankly at Eskel after a few moments. When he noticed, he jumped, averting his eyes away from the man next to him and clutching his hands together tightly. 

“Ah, yes, well. Is there something you need from me?” Voice weak, Jaskier had to swallow a few times before he was sure the sleep was gone from his tone. He looked at Eskel’s stomach instead of his face, level with him where he sat on the bed. 

Eskel chuckled. “I don’t need anything from you, no, but I figured you might get bored if you’re stuck in here for much longer. Do you want to get out and stretch your legs? I’ve got work to do, but if you want half a tour of the palace on the way to my office, I can spare the time for that. Being stuck somewhere always feels so… exhausting, to me. I figured you might not be much different.” 

Jaskier considered the offer carefully. Getting a better idea of the palace plus a chance to actually walk somewhere sounded marvelous, but once they reached Eskel’s office, what would he have Jaskier do? If he was just bringing Jaskier there so he could have someone to suck him off under his desk, Jaskier would rather stay where he was, alone. 

His silence grew longer as he debated. When he looked up, he noticed Eskel’s face had fallen a little. Jaskier felt a pang in his chest (surprisingly not anxiety, but just a reluctance to disappoint the other man) and he felt himself nod. 

“Yeah, sure, a walk would be nice,” he yawned. When he swung his legs to the side of the bed, he realized that he was still naked. “Uh.” 

Eskel stepped back to give him room and raised an eyebrow, waiting. “Uh?” 

With a shrug, Jaskier gave a sheepish smile. “Am I to be naked, or am I allowed clothes?” 

The regret that flashed over Eskel’s face lasted only a moment before he turned away from Jaskier, his jaw tight. 

“Yes, you get clothes. I didn’t—I was half asleep myself yesterday, I completely forgot.” Jaskier watched Eskel run a hand over his eyes. “I’ll—hmm.” Eskel’s gaze flicked back to Jaskier, giving him a once-over, and Jaskier didn’t pretend any more modesty than what the blanket already afforded him. “I don’t think mine will fit. Ugh. Hold on, I’ll be back in a minute, alright?” Eskel took Jaskier’s hand, looking into his eyes, and it was all Jaskier could do to keep from gaping. He hadn’t expected the question to rile the man up so much, but Eskel seemed truly frustrated that he’d not seen to it the night before. Unsure how to take the words back, since it had clearly caused Eskel some grief, Jaskier just squeezed his hand. 

“Sure, but if it’s—you don’t have to, I’m alright if I’m to be naked. I’ve had worse.” His words didn’t calm Eskel like he’d expected them to. Jaskier flinched when his eyebrows drew together, his nostrils flaring. He didn’t do anything to Jaskier other than removing his hand, though, and when he stepped away, Jaskier breathed out slowly. 

“It’s not alright.” Eskel’s tone was harsh and he was glaring at the ground. “I’ll get you clothes, just wait here.” 

Jaskier cracked a smile then. “You’re locking me in, darling, it’s not like I’d get up and walk away.” 

Eskel grunted, his fists clenched tightly at his sides, and left the room in a hurry. The lock sounded as he worked it from the outside, and then Jaskier was alone once more. He sat back against the pillows, unsure where any of that had come from. If they were truly going to insist on treating him like a person, it couldn’t be that much of a stretch to ask for clothes, could it? 

It wasn’t more than five or ten minutes later that Jaskier heard the lock click again and Eskel rejoined him in his room, looking a little calmer. Jaskier, glad to see it, stood up, uncaring about his nakedness. 

Eskel held out a hand with a bundle of clothes, looking away from Jaskier as he handed over the proffered items. Jaskier raised an eyebrow but said nothing. As soon as he’d taken the clothes, Eskel turned back to face the door, away from Jaskier. 

Jaskier pulled on the shirt and trousers he’d been given and was surprised to find that they fit rather well, even if he had no undergarments. There were boots, too, which seemed only about half an inch too large. He cleared his throat when he was done, unsure how to get Eskel’s attention. The larger man twitched. 

“You’re dressed?” Eskel’s voice was rough but he didn’t sound upset, per se, and Jaskier hummed a yes. Turning, Eskel gave him another once-over and nodded, satisfied. “Those look like they fit. I’m glad—I wasn’t sure of your measurements.” He offered Jaskier a smile that Jaskier couldn’t help return, albeit softer. “I’ll send a note to the palace tailor, and she can get started on a few things for you—you ought to have more than one change of clothes, plus at some point I think Aiden might miss them. Lambert might have something to say about it too, but don’t worry, he always has something to say.” His grin turned into a smirk and Jaskier wasn’t sure why. He didn’t ask. 

They didn’t smell like they were someone’s worn clothes when he put them on, just clean and washed recently, and they didn’t stand out particularly. The shirt was a dark, forest green, paired with brown trousers, the material soft enough that it didn’t tug uncomfortably at the bandages still covering his front and back. 

“They’re good, the fit is accurate. Thank you. I don’t—I don’t need multiple outfits, though, only the one, you don’t have to ask a tailor to make them.” He shrugged again. “I’m fine making do—if there’s a premade shirt and pants I’ll take those. I know how annoying it can be to hem for someone as tall as I am.” He’d long since gotten used to wearing shirts that showed his midriff and pants that pulled at his crotch, since they were still better than going naked. And nobody had ever actually ordered that clothes be made to fit him. 

Eskel shook his head though, dismissing the thought. “No, it’ll be fine.” He smiled again. “Honestly, I think she’ll be thrilled. Between Geralt and I and the others, she’s always pulling her hair out at how much clothing we go through, given how often we manage to render things unwearable.” He plucked at the shirt he wore in emphasis, and Jaskier’s eyes were drawn to it despite himself. Unlike Jaskier’s clothes, the shirt was nearly skintight, and even still Jaskier could see just how big it had to be to contain as much muscle as the man had. If he and these ‘others’ managed to destroy clothing often, he wasn’t surprised that the palace tailor was pulling her hair out—obtaining the sheer amount of fabric it would take to clothe someone as large as Eskel had to be a nightmare. 

Eskel dropped the smirk and offered Jaskier a hand. Bemused, he took it and let Eskel pull him out into the hallway. 

The doors to the room swung shut behind them and to Jaskier’s surprise Eskel reached out to lock them, pulling a key from his pocket and turning it in the lock easily. When he slipped the key back into the pocket Eskel looked up at Jaskier and frowned at whatever he saw on Jaskier’s face. 

“What is it?” Eskel asked. Jaskier shook his head. 

“Nothing. Just surprised you’d lock the door, since I’m with you.” 

Eskel studied him and then shrugged. “Might as well. The palace isn’t unsafe but I figure you’d appreciate the rooms being inaccessible to anyone but those with the keys, just in case. A couple of palace staff have copies—they’ll come by later to pick up your plates from breakfast—but they can be trusted. No harm should come to the room while you’re away from it.” 

Feeling well and truly thrown off balance, Jaskier just nodded back at him, surprised. “Oh, sure. That’s fine, then.” 

Eskel grinned at him and patted the pocket with the keys. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your own at some point, if you want it.” He shrugged. “Wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave instead, though. We’re really not like any court you’ve ever been in.” 

Jaskier snorted, shaking his head. “No, you’re really not. But I can’t say I’ve seen many downsides yet, so unless you’re hiding something terrible, I can’t see myself going back to Radovid any time soon.” 

He realized he still held Eskel’s hand when the other man gave it a squeeze. Jaskier squeezed back and looked up to see Eskel looking at him oddly. “Even if you don’t want to be here, you don’t have to go back there, Jaskier.” Eskel swallowed. “I mean, I guess if you were happy and you wanted to return to what you were doing, we wouldn’t stop you, but I don’t—I can’t see having to—I can’t see many people truly enjoying that.” 

Jaskier, well past the point of uncomfortable, looked away, dropping the hand. “Right, well. You said you could give me a tour?” 

Eskel graciously accepted the change in topic and led Jaskier down the long hallway they found themselves in. There were more people running to and fro than there had been the night before—several times, Jaskier had to quickly step out of the way or risk being run down by someone walking somewhere with determination. After the second time Eskel chuckled and offered his hand once more. 

“Just so you don’t get knocked over. These hallways are a dangerous place to be.” And if you manage to run off it’ll be harder for me to find you with how busy the halls are , Jaskier heard unsaid. He took the offered hand and let Eskel lead him down another hallway, explaining all the while. 

“This is one of the main communal areas of the palace. You’re probably going to want to be able to find your way here if nowhere else.” Eskel pointed to a large set of double doors. “That’s the dining hall. Meals are usually taken there, although there’s always food in the kitchens if you’re hungry in between. We’re not as formal as most courts, but we try to gather for meals since it’s good to check in.” 

Jaskier nodded. He didn’t realize he was speaking until the words were already halfway out of his mouth and he couldn’t pull them back. “Who is ‘us’? You’ve mentioned, well, others besides you and G—you and the king, and I’m sorry to admit that I’m not familiar enough with the Rivian monarchy to know who else might be in the palace.” 

Instead of being annoyed that Jaskier didn’t know, Eskel offered him an easy smile. “Oh, there’s not much of the official court here—all the nobles have been sent away.” Jaskier gaped at him even as a memory tickled the back of his mind, something Pris had said once. Eskel chuckled again at Jaskier’s baffled look and shook his head. “It’s true. Geralt was here for about a year before I arrived, and he got so fed up with all of them fawning and eating his food and generally doing nothing that he sent them home, insisted that they actually go out and run their fiefdoms.” 

The additional explanation didn’t help Jaskier’s shock. He let Eskel tug him along by the hand to another set of doors, the man grinning as he did. So many questions were coming to Jaskier’s mind that he just blanked out, unable to ask a single one. Eskel took advantage of his silence and gestured to the next set of doors. “This one is the ballroom. We don’t usually use it for, well, balls, but it still sees a fair bit of use, mostly for practice and sparring.” 

Jaskier nodded at him, taking in the information without really hearing it. Eskel didn’t open either set of doors so he didn’t get a good look at the rooms, but he assumed he’d see the inside at some point. 

Eskel kept walking and pointed to another large door on the other side of the hallway that was more set into the wall and was plastered with embellishments from gold inlays to what looked to be actual gemstones encrusted in the handle. “This is Geralt’s official study, where he’s supposed to do whatever work he’s got.” Jaskier looked the door up and down once more with a frown, not being able to picture the simply dressed, grumpy man using an office as undoubtedly ornate as the one that lay behind the door. Eskel caught the expression and grinned back at him. “Oh, he hates the thing, only uses it when he’s supposed to be greeting ambassadors and things like that. It’s mostly for show.” He shrugged. “Makes it easier to keep clean, though, since some of the king’s advisors insist on it looking grand and put together when it is in use.” 

Jaskier nodded, soaking in the information. If the king had an official study, then he most likely had an unofficial one as well, somewhere else in the palace. Eskel surely wouldn’t tell him where it was, but it was a good piece of information to have nonetheless. Being able to find the king at a moment’s notice was one of those things that only a favored few in the castle would have the ability to do, and knowledge of the study the man spent actual time in helped with that endeavor. 

Eskel kept walking, pulling Jaskier along, but not wrenching on his arm to get him to follow. They reached another hallway that ran perpendicular to the one they were walking in and Eskel slowed. “The rest of the hallway, down there—” he gestured to the way they’d been heading, “—is other various offices and studies, a couple common areas where people like to gather to play cards after dinner sometimes. I don’t think there’s anything important that you need to know about those, although if you have any questions, just ask.” 

Jaskier nodded and let Eskel turn them left down a new hallway, this one seemingly less ornate and featuring less doors that Eskel felt the need to point out individually. 

As they walked, Jaskier found himself actually enjoying the tour of the palace more than he thought he would. It was as Eskel was winding down a story about the law library, though, that Jaskier noticed a man, similar in build to Eskel, headed towards them. He tensed at first, sure that it had to be the king, but as the man came closer Jaskier realized that he had a mop of red curls instead of the liquid starlight the king called hair, and his posture was completely different. 

Eskel saw him as well and held up a hand in greeting with a grin on his face. The two parties stopped walking, and Jaskier noted that the other man was scowling, something even Eskel’s affable demeanor didn’t seem to dent. 

He took the opportunity to shift a little, putting Eskel between himself and the newcomer in hopes of being ignored. The other man didn’t even look at him, focusing entirely on Eskel, and Jaskier held himself stock still, waiting for them to finish whatever business they had.

Chapter Text

“Lambert! I thought you’d be training.” 

Lambert rolled his eyes as he reached them, and both parties came to a stop in the middle of the hall. 

“I fucking wish. That cocksucker advisor of Geralt’s roped me into a wild goose chase trying to find a book, but he of course couldn’t remember which library it was in. Do you know how many libraries we have in this godsforsaken place? Eleven . I’m not about to go searching through eleven libraries just because that ass—” 

Jaskier got the feeling that the man could have continued speaking for some time, extolling the less than virtuous nature of whoever had sent him to find the book. Instead of doing that, however, the man took a deep breath and his nostrils flared. Even before he was finished breathing he was whirling on Jaskier, his eyes narrowed. 

Jaskier jumped, uncertain about whoever this was looking at him like that.  Without even realizing it, he took a half-step back. Lambert met him step for step, closing the distance between them until he was practically pressed against Jaskier’s chest. 

“Who are you ?” His words weren’t gentle, and the slave flinched, ducking his head automatically to look at Lambert’s feet. 

“Julian, my lord.” His mouth formed the words before he could stop it and he kept his eyes fixed firmly on Lambert’s shoes, managing not to shake. Lambert, instead of backing off, stepped closer until he’d backed Jaskier into the wall. 

“Lambert, cut it out, don’t be an ass.” Eskel sounded annoyed, which Jaskier tried to take as a good sign and not a bad one. “He hasn’t done anything.” 

With a snarl, Lambert turned to face Eskel, not moving from his spot nearly pressed against Jaskier’s front. “Oh, he hasn’t fucking done anything? You’re not the one who smells like my boyfriend, Eskel.” When he didn’t immediately get an answer, he whirled back around to face Jaskier once more. “What are you even—” He leaned in and pressed his nose against Jaskier’s collar, inhaling deeply. “What the fuck , you little shit, how dare you?” 

Before he could do anything else a hand wrapped around Lambert’s shoulder and pulled him away from Jaskier sharply. “Lambert! Knock it off, can’t you tell you’re scaring the shit out of him?” Eskel’s voice had turned harsher, though his expression didn’t change as Lambert sneered at him. “He didn’t fuck Aiden, you idiot. He had no clothes and I had to find some that weren’t going to be too big on him.” 

Lambert settled slightly, but didn’t back off—he kept shooting glares at Jaskier, who only kept his breathing even through sheer force of will. Eskel grunted and tugged on Lambert’s shoulder again, hauling him away. Eskel only stopped when they were at least five feet from where Jaskier was still pressed against the wall and put himself between Jaskier and Lambert. 

“Cut it out, you moron, or I’ll tell Geralt that you were the one that accidentally cut up his favorite shirt for your stupid explosives.” Eskel’s voice was less restrained now and he shoved at Lambert’s chest. Lambert snarled, looking over his shoulder to Jaskier with a frown. 

“Aiden’s clothes?” 

Eskel nodded at him. “Yes. Clothes. Nothing else. Fuck, man, you think Aiden would even look at someone else? For gods’ sakes, you’re an idiot. He’s over the fucking stars and moon for you.” 

Lambert’s growling stopped and he took another deep breath, which might have been a mistake—it clearly riled him up again. Eskel didn’t give him a chance to say anything more, though, and just shoved at Lambert’s shoulders, pushing him back down the hallway the way Eskel and Jaskier had come. “Go. Now. Go find your fucking book, or your boyfriend, or go beat someone who isn’t standing in this hallway into a pulp. Whatever you do, I don’t care—just get out of my sight, you ass.” 

Lambert sent Jaskier one last glare before starting off down the hallway at a jog, eager to be away from the two of them. Eskel watched to make sure he was actually leaving before turning back to Jaskier with a rueful expression on his face. 

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—I didn’t think he’d do that, and it was just plain bad luck that we even ran into him.” Jaskier didn’t respond, keeping his eyes on the floor. Eskel approached him, his hands held out in front of him the way one would approach a scared stray dog. Jaskier wasn’t sure he deserved the comparison, but when Eskel took another step, he flinched, turning away. Eskel sighed and dropped his hands. “I’m sorry he blew up at you, Jaskier. You don’t—I’m going to find him later and cave his head in somewhere without witnesses, but if he does that again you are absolutely within your rights to yell right back at him and tell him to shut the fuck up.” 

Jaskier nodded shallowly, still looking at Eskel’s feet. When Eskel shifted his weight Jaskier didn’t flinch again, but it was a near thing. Eskel sighed and ran a hand down his face, shaking his head. “Fuck.” 

Slowly, deliberately, Eskel sat himself down on the floor of the hallway, crossing his legs over the smooth wood. He put himself in Jaskier’s line of sight but not too close to him, holding one hand out. “If you don’t want me close, I understand, but would you join me on the floor, Jaskier? Your heart is beating really fast and I’m a little worried you might pass out.” 

Jaskier, whose vision had indeed gone a little dark, nodded again and leaned back against the wall before letting himself slide down. Once his butt was on the floor he finally looked up at Eskel, biting his lip. 

“I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Jaskier started, and had to pause to take a deep breath before continuing. “It wasn’t my intention to make him angry. I’m sorry, I don’t—I don’t want you to fight your friends because of me. It was fine. He’s—it’s fine, there’s a nonzero chance that I have fucked his boyfriend, I mean really, and I—I can take it. I just—whatever I have to do to make up for it, I’ll do it, I’m sorry.” He ducked his head back down, assuming the subservient posture he’d made second nature and waiting for Eskel’s response. 

Eskel sucked in a sharp breath. “Jaskier, I’m not mad at you. Everything that just happened is my fault, and I’m sorry. You have every right to be angry with me for putting you in that situation, and I’d understand if you want to go back to your rooms and be alone. I can take you back, or if you still want to see my office, it’s only a little further and you could sit down for a bit while I sign a few papers. ” 

Jaskier shivered, wanting desperately to go back to his rooms and be alone, but not willing to make Eskel divert from whatever work he needed to get to. After another moment he nodded at Eskel. 

“Your office is fine, if you’re alright with me being there. I’m sorry for making us late.” 

Eskel huffed, moving so he was kneeling instead of cross legged. He offered Jaskier a hand up. “We’re not late—there isn’t a time crunch. But I’d rather have you out of the halls, since I don’t want to run into anyone else. Are you alright to go now, or do you need to sit a bit longer?” 

Jaskier nodded, taking the offered hand and letting Eskel pull him to shaky feet. “We can go now.” He didn’t miss that Eskel dropped his hand as soon as he was on his own two feet, stepping back to give Jaskier space. Eskel nodded at him once more and indicated the right direction, starting to walk. Jaskier followed behind, letting Eskel keep pace a step and a half in front of him and to the right. He hadn’t asked to hold hands once more, which Jaskier was grateful for, and he tried to keep himself as close as he could bear to the other man so as not to give him any reason to think Jaskier would run. 

Eskel led him past another few sets of doors, silently this time, and finally came to a stop in front of one that was a dark, heavy wood, with riveted steel hinges that were more practical than decorative. He pushed the door open and let Jaskier step through first before following him inside and closing the door behind him. 

Despite himself, Jaskier found his eyes drawn upwards to look around the room. If he’d had to guess, he’d have said that a tornado had blown through and upturned every box of papers in the place, but since none of the windows were broken nor even open, Jaskier had to conclude that it looked like that on purpose. When he chanced a look at Eskel, the large man looked sheepish as he too looked around the room. 

“It’s—uh, I would say it’s not usually this bad but it is usually kind of this bad.” Eskel huffed out, shifting a few of the papers closest to him around as though he’d be able to restore some sort of order to the room without a rake, or maybe a shovel. 

Jaskier felt a fraction of the tension in his shoulders draining away at Eskel’s fumbling attempts to put the room to rights, and when Eskel cleared off a chair and gestured vaguely at it, Jaskier sat without needing to be told twice. He watched Eskel move piles of papers with fascination, skipping quite daintily through the maze pretending to be a floor and ending up behind his desk without tipping anything over. Eskel fell into his own chair with a ‘whoof’, exhaling as he managed to hold all the papers on his desk from flying off when he sat. 

With a smile that was more wry than anything else, Eskel gestured haplessly at the papers. “I can promise you that it’s all for a good cause, at least. Nobody—we’ve never needed to do this before, not like this, and I know if I wasn’t taking care of it Geralt would probably have to put five men on it. He’s not—not many people get to see all of it, you know. It’s supposed to be kept at least somewhat secret because it would rain hell down on us if the other kingdoms knew.” Eskel’s smile got more rueful. “Plus for some reason he trusts me to keep track of everything, so I get the honor. Not sure if I deserve it yet, but we’ve only been doing it like this for a few years.” 

His rather long, rambling impromptu speech only made a little bit of sense to Jaskier, but he smiled politely back at Eskel, most of his mask back in place even if he still felt shaken inside. When Eskel picked up a paper and started reading it over, seemingly trying to find whatever it was that he was looking for, Jaskier looked down as well, although not because he was trying for subservience. No, Jaskier looked down at the stacks of papers covering the floor curiously, trying to make out what they said. If it was supposed to be a secret, why was Jaskier allowed to come with Eskel at all? Whatever the papers were, they seemed to be important, and Jaskier couldn’t help wanting to know more. 

The stack by his feet was almost knee-high, which meant that Jaskier could see the top piece of paper quite easily. The writing on it was shaky, like it had been written by a child or someone who’d only partly learned to read some years ago, and it took Jaskier longer than it would normally to make it out. 

He persisted, though, and after a few moments realized that it was a letter. It had no addressee, so Jaskier wasn’t sure who it’d been sent to (although he could probably assume it was someone in Rivia, or more specifically the Rivian Palace), but it painted a rather clear picture. It named a town, with directions—somewhere in Redania that was having a problem with harpies. A whole flock of them had nested in the nearby forest and had been picking off livestock like sheep and pigs for the better part of six months. The writer of the letter sounded desperate and Jaskier couldn’t help feeling for them. Their whole livelihood, their home, was being threatened. If the harpies weren’t dealt with or didn’t leave on their own, the town’s residents would likely pack up and move, abandoning their houses and trying to salvage as much of their livelihoods as they were able. 

When Jaskier looked up from the letter, his eyes skittering to Eskel, he was surprised to find the man studying him. Jaskier jumped in his chair before bowing his head. 

“I—I’m sorry, m’lord, I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to, I just saw the beginning and couldn’t help but look at it, I’ll—I’ll keep my eyes closed while you finish.” Screwing his eyes tightly shut, Jaskier sucked in a breath. A rustle of papers was the only sign he got that Eskel had moved and he looked up in alarm when he felt something brush his arm. Eskel stood to the side of his chair, tilting his head so he could read the page that Jaskier had been looking at. When he finished his face held more lines than it had previously and Jaskier forced himself to look away. 

“Yeah, those ones are pretty shit. Some of the others aren’t so bad—I mean, they’re still not great, but we get a lot where nobody’s life is at stake.” Eskel shrugged, looking down at Jaskier who still sat stiffly in the chair. “If you want to read them, go ahead. You already know enough about us that it won’t make much difference to add more on top.” That statement didn’t exactly put Jaskier at ease, but he nodded, and Eskel made his way back to the desk. “In general they’re sorted by the type of problem, how serious it is, and then somewhat ordered by region, although that’s not as easy to maintain.” 

Jaskier wanted to ask so many more questions about them, but he wasn’t sure he was allowed. And even if he were, he wouldn’t know where to start. Instead, for lack of something else to do as Eskel sat back down and resumed looking through the papers on his desk, he picked up the one he’d read already and started reading the next. 

It was addressed, although it only said ‘to whoever can help,’ instead of a name. The return address was in northern Kaedwen, and it described a mated pair of harpies that had started wreaking havoc on several village towns, plucking children right off the streets in front of their parents. Jaskier found himself cringing at the descriptions of how the children were taken. It seemed that the harpies there were fond of flying around for a while, holding the screaming child far above their sobbing parents’ heads. 

He put the two letters down, neatening the pile so it wouldn’t fall over and instead choosing one from a different pile. This one, as he read through it, detailed a string of strange events—all of the young people of the town, one by one, were called into the forest, and all appeared after a few days, fully naked and stumbling around outside with no memory of how they got there. The writer of the letter had absolutely no idea what kind of a monster could be causing it, but they shared every detail and begged for help. 

Piece by piece Jaskier read through more of the piles, sometimes reading every paper in the stack, sometimes only skimming a few when the details were too gory. He’d gone through most of the stacks directly surrounding his chair when he heard Eskel sit back and stretch, covering his mouth on a yawn. Jaskier looked up, still clutching the letter he’d been reading in his hands. 

Eskel turned to face him mid-yawn, his eyebrows going up as he turned, and Jaskier couldn't help but chuckle at the sight the man made. He stifled it quickly, looking away, and replaced the paper in his hands on top of the stack it was from carefully. 

“Are you hungry?” Eskel’s voice warbled over to him.

Jaskier nodded, picking at the hem of his borrowed shirt. 

“Well, it’s nearly suppertime, if you want to get something to eat. I’d guess you woke up around midday; it was just after lunchtime when I went to see if you were up. I figured that you wouldn’t want to go immediately to lunch.” 

Jaskier blinked at him before looking out the small window of the room. The sun was, in fact, setting, and he wondered how he’d managed not to notice at all. Candles dotted the room, keeping the light level more or less even, but he was still surprised that he hadn’t realized how late it’d gotten.

Chapter Text

A soft noise from Eskel brought him back to the present and Jaskier turned, facing the man once more. Eskel used the hand he’d been covering another yawn with to scratch at his scars before dropping it back into his lap and Jaskier narrowed his eyes. 

“You also went to bed at dawn, Eskel. What time did you have to wake up this morning?” Jaskier wasn’t sure where the sudden boldness came from but as he watched, Eskel’s expression only grew more sheepish as he shrugged, not making eye contact. 

“A little earlier than I’d have liked, yeah, but I’ll live.” Eskel shrugged again. “It takes a lot more than lack of sleep to get to me.” He stood from the chair. “But c’mon, we can get both of us some food and we’ll go to sleep earlier tonight.” 

Jaskier wasn’t feeling particularly tired, which made sense since he’d gotten up after noon, but he allowed Eskel to escort him from the room, making their way back towards the dining hall. As they walked Jaskier felt his stomach do a flip and then settle in his throat at the idea of meeting Lambert again. He rolled the question around in his mind, trying to think of the most polite way to ask it, and he didn’t notice when Eskel came to a stop beside him. 

“What are you thinking about?” Eskel asked, and Jaskier looked up to find Eskel inspecting him. He stopped as well. 

“Just thinking.” Jaskier paused, unsure, but Eskel seemed content to wait for him to say what was on his mind. “I—is, um, I’m not, uh, eating with you, am I? Because really, it’s not necessary, if you want to just, well, show me where the palace staff are fed I really don’t mind taking care of getting food myself. I know you’ve said—” He hesitated. “You’ve said that the palace has no slaves, but surely there are still plenty of staff.”  He scratched at the hair on the back of his neck. “I’ve already taken up so much of your day, and I don’t—I know you’re probably worried about me trying to run but I won’t, I promise, you can come find me after dinner and I’ll be where you left me.” 

Eskel started frowning as Jaskier spoke but he waited for Jaskier to babble himself out before answering. “I’d intended you would eat in the hall with everyone. I think it’d be good, make sure nobody else gets any ideas and they know you’re off limits.” Jaskier shivered at that, silently agreeing that he’d be glad if everyone considered him off limits. “If you really want to avoid the hall, we could get food in the kitchens. I do that often; I’ve got a bad habit of losing track of time when I’m working on things.” 

He shrugged, slowly reaching for Jaskier’s hand. When Jaskier didn’t pull back, Eskel gripped his hand and gave a squeeze. “I’d prefer you to come to dinner, but if you don’t want to I can’t really blame you with how Lambert acted. He’ll probably be at dinner, I won’t lie to you, but I’ll just punch him if he gets too close.” 

The joke made Jaskier snort and the noise shattered the tension between them. Jaskier gave Eskel’s hand a squeeze back. 

“I can come to dinner, I don’t want to make you miss it. But please don’t punch him, Eskel, I’d prefer you didn’t do it just for me.” Jaskier looked imploringly at him, eyes wide. 

Eskel smirked and let Jaskier break their hands apart. “Who says I’d be doing it for you? Lambert always needs punching for something.” 

Jaskier snorted again, looking away, and when Eskel started walking again he followed. They made their way back through hallways that now looked vaguely familiar to Jaskier and he tried to keep track of the turns they made. The palace seemed less straightforward than Radovid’s but Jaskier didn’t mind, he thought it gave the place more character. That, plus the fact that he had a much nicer set of rooms than the slave quarters he’d lived in before, meant that Jaskier already liked this palace a lot and was looking forward to learning more of its secrets. 

He was so focused on trying to map their route that Jaskier almost didn’t notice them coming up on the main hall. As they walked they passed more and more people in the halls, some of whom gave curious glances at Jaskier as he walked with Eskel, but nobody approached them. When they neared the door that led to the king’s official study, the door opened and the king himself walked out, looking down at a piece of paper in his hands. 

Eskel came to a stop and Jaskier copied him, both waiting for the king to notice them. Jaskier was uninterested in catching his eye and sidled diagonally until he was mostly blocked from view by Eskel’s bulk. The king looked up after a moment or two and Jaskier watched his face soften slightly when he saw Eskel. He wondered at the relationship the two men had; they were clearly very close but Jaskier wasn’t quite sure what to make of their interactions. He’d not seen much of the king at all but the way Eskel talked about him made him seem so much more human . 

The king reached out to clap a hand down on Eskel’s arm, smirking at him. “I see you’re finally awake.” 

Eskel grunted and rolled his eyes good-naturedly, giving the king a light slap to the chest that had Jaskier goggling. Eskel’s friendship with him seemed to be effortless—not at all like a king and one of his subjects, or even an advisor with special duties. When the king didn’t seem to mind the slap, Jaskier relaxed a little but still kept a wary eye on the two men, wanting to know where they stood. 

“Don’t give me that, I have it on good authority that you also skipped training this morning.” Eskel’s voice was teasing and the king grinned back at him, albeit for only a second. “You headed to supper?” 

The king nodded. “Yes. Had some papers to drop off,” He jerked his head towards the office door behind himself, “Before the Redanian ambassadors are supposed to visit next month.” Jaskier’s blood ran cold and he froze, his heart beating a million miles per hour. He held himself still, though, trying not to react outwardly. He must have given himself away somehow because both men turned to face him, their faces matching expressions of concern and confusion. 

Eskel was the first to speak. “Jaskier? What’s wrong?” Jaskier looked at him and then to the king and then back to Eskel. He shook his head, trying to force himself to calm down. 

“Nothing! No matter, really, just an errant thought. It’s nothing, truly.” Neither one of the men looked convinced. Eskel frowned harder but didn’t reach for him, which Jaskier appreciated. 

“Hmm.” The king hummed and Jaskier looked at his face, trying to read his expression. It was stony but didn’t seem annoyed and as Jaskier looked at him, he realized that the large man was studying him right back. He sucked in a breath and looked away, back towards the floor. “Aiden’s clothes?” 

Jaskier’s head whipped up to meet the king’s eyes, shocked at how easily they all seemed to know whose clothes Eskel had borrowed for him. At least the king didn’t seem annoyed by his insolence, and Jaskier didn’t look away this time, openly studying the man. 

Eskel was the one to break the moment, clapping a hand on the king’s shoulder and drawing the man’s attention back to himself. “Yeah, thought he deserved something that might attempt to fit him.” He huffed, rolling his eyes. “Figures that the first person we ran into was Lambert.” 

The king closed his eyes with a small groan, shaking his head. “Fuck, of course you did. Let me guess, he flew off the handle and wasn’t at all interested in the explanation?” Eskel squeezed his shoulder with the hand still there. 

“Yep. You wanna help me fend him off at dinner? At least until we can actually sit him down and fill him in, I mean.” At Eskel’s easy words, Jaskier’s heart started beating faster. It was one thing if Eskel was planning on fighting Lambert over Jaskier but he absolutely could not take it if the king did the same. It made him anxious to even think of the two men coming to his defense against someone they seemed to consider a friend. 

He couldn’t make his mouth move, though, and he only watched as the king swung his eyes back to Jaskier before answering Eskel. 

“Gladly. He can sit between us, if that suits you.” 

Far be it from Jaskier to argue with a royal declaration, even if the thought of having to sit between the two men for supper made him feel a little woozy. He didn’t protest when Eskel took his hand again, leading him in the direction of the hall and making light conversation with the king, who walked at Eskel’s other side. 

The walk to the dining hall was a short one and it passed in the blink of an eye to Jaskier. He barely noticed as they led him up to the high table, not even focusing on the people around them, nor on the king and Eskel’s conversation. 

When Eskel pulled out a chair and indicated that he was to sit, Jaskier hesitated. The king stood just behind Eskel, looking at him, and when Jaskier met his eyes the man had the gall to smirk. It was only for a fraction of a second, before his face settled back into its neutral, slightly homicidal expression. But Jaskier was sure of it—the fucking king had given him what could only be described as a challenging smirk. 

It should have scared him. Should have made him worry about what it was supposed to mean, what response would be expected from him. Instead, though, it made Jaskier see red. All of these people insisted on throwing him off, setting him wrongfooted at every turn and not even giving him a chance to figure out what they wanted. Every interaction he’d had so far wasn’t what he expected, and he was well good and tired of it. 

The mood swing from worried to furious was sudden and unexpected but Jaskier decided that he didn’t care; at least it had stopped the shaking in his knees. He took the proffered chair with a murmured thanks to Eskel, who proceeded to move past him and sit in the chair on his other side. The king took his seat to Jaskier’s other side, sitting with a predator’s fluid grace even as he kept staring at Jaskier. 

Eskel leaned around Jaskier to snip, “You’re staring, Geralt. It’s rude.” 

The king blinked and shook his head, finally taking his eyes off Jaskier in order to look at Eskel. Jaskier was treated to a view of that challenging smirk once more, although it wasn’t directed at him this time. 

“Jealous, Eskel?” The king’s tone was soft and velvet and the words sent a shiver down Jaskier’s spine. There were silken promises in that tone and Jaskier found himself wondering if the relationship between the two men was more than a simple friendship. 

None of them got a chance to say anything further though, as there was a commotion behind them. They all turned around to see Lambert standing a ways away, being held back by someone Jaskier hadn’t met yet, but who seemed surprisingly able to hold the large muscular man back. If Jaskier had to guess, this was probably the ‘Aiden’ whose clothes he was borrowing, considering that Jaskier was closer in size to him than any of the others. 

“Let me, I just—Aiden, c’mon, let me go!” Lambert’s face was turning as red as his hair and he struggled in the other man’s grip—although to Jaskier’s relief, he didn’t seem to be getting very far. The anger that had flared up at the king’s smirk reared its head once more and Jaskier, to his surprise, rose out of his chair before either Eskel or the king could, turning to face Lambert and Aiden. 

Everyone who’d been milling around, watching with some amusement as Lambert and Aiden wrestled, turned to face Jaskier as he approached them. His heart was beating a mile a minute and he was sure his breathing would be audible if it got any faster, but Jaskier was done ; he didn’t care if they decided to punish him for it, he was absolutely sick and tired of being blamed. 

The struggling men stopped moving as he approached, both of them fixed on Jaskier (although he did note with some relief that Lambert was still securely held in Aiden’s grip). When he stood before them, Jaskier looked from one to the other. Aiden gave him a frown and a shrug, as if to say ‘what are you going to do?’ and Lambert, when Jaskier looked him in the eyes, snarled at him. 

Jaskier flicked him on the nose. Giggles erupted around them as Lambert blinked, looking cross-eyed at the accosted appendage and then back to Jaskier. Jaskier didn’t give him the chance to react and did it again, harder this time. 

“No. Bad dog.” The chuckling got louder and Jaskier pointedly ignored the two loudest sets that came from behind him. “Stop it.” 

Lambert was surprised for several seconds and then snarled again, redoubling his efforts to get out of Aiden’s grip. “You little shit! C’mon Aiden, let me go, I wanna—” 

Jaskier crossed his arms. “You wanna what? Hit me? Kick me? Have me whipped? Drowned? Beaten black and blue?” 

While Lambert looked perfectly alright with the first and second offer his expression grew more and more uncomfortable as Jaskier went down the list. He was shaking his head by the end of it, although he still looked annoyed. Jaskier didn’t give him a chance to interject. 

“Well then it’s your lucky day, sir, because I am a master of all of the above.” Jaskier waved loosely at his slave brand. “I’ve had all of that and more done to me by men ten times as cruel as you. There is absolutely nothing you can do to me that hasn’t been done or threatened before.” Lambert had stopped struggling completely now and he just watched Jaskier’s face, his own expression a stubborn frown. 

“And you’ve forgotten something.” Jaskier pointed to the man holding Lambert, really hoping that what he said next wouldn’t cause him to reconsider letting Lambert do the bodily harm he wanted to. 

“It takes two people to have sex, and if you’re going to accuse me of sleeping with your boyfriend, you might want to spend a few minutes being angry with the man who actually committed the adultery. If you truly believe that I fucked him, that is.” Jaskier turned his head to address Aiden briefly. “Hello, by the way, we were never actually introduced, though I believe I’m borrowing your clothes. My apologies for that, I should be able to return them in a day or so once I get some of my own.” Aiden just nodded for him to continue on, smirking like the whole thing was hilarious. Jaskier refocused on Lambert. “ If you truly believed that, you’d be cross with him.” 

Jaskier gestured to the mark on his neck once more, narrowing his eyes at Lambert now. “And I’m sure you don’t know what all of the symbols mean—hardly anyone does, since the brand itself is enough to ensure that I’ll never have my true freedom—but these marks here?” 

He ran a finger across the string of symbols that ran so far down they nearly hit his collarbone. “These indicate that I was bred to be a pleasure slave. I was brought into this world to service assholes like you , whenever and wherever you would like it. I was a treasured pet of kings and nobles of two separate countries, was traded away for peace in the hopes that I could satisfy a king to the point he’d forget he wanted to wage war . I know ten tricks that would have you coming in seconds, ten more that would leave you crying and begging me to let you come at all. Anyone who has the privilege of fucking me should be honored , as I am the best and most thrilling lay that anyone in any kingdom should hope for.” 

Lambert’s mouth was opening and closing like he wanted to say something, but no words came out. His eyes tracked Jaskier’s, and Jaskier glared right back at him, taking all of the shit that he’d bottled up for the first twenty six years of his life and spewing his anger outwards. 

“So if you’re going to accuse me of fucking your boyfriend, which I did not, please take a moment to mourn the end of your relationship. If he was fortunate enough to get me into bed he’d never stop missing what I showed him for the rest of his life—no other man or woman would satisfy, and especially not you .” Jaskier clucked his tongue, pretending to think. “Accusing one’s partner of infidelity is also not the best way to keep said partner happy with you, so I’d advise you to consider your apology to him very carefully.” 

Jaskier’s eyes moved to Aiden’s once more and the man’s expression held no resentment, only an amused smugness and maybe a hint of thanks to Jaskier for pointing it out. He shifted his hold on Lambert’s arms, drawing the man’s attention back to him. 

“ Now do you believe me?” Aiden’s question made Lambert wince and Jaskier stepped back, his work done. As he looked up from the two men he realized that the room was absolutely silent, everyone that had gathered to eat looking at him in no small amount of shock. Jaskier skimmed the faces turned towards their little spat and felt his heart drop as he saw just how many people must have heard his words. 

When his gaze finally found Eskel’s, though, the man was smiling at him. He looked proud , which was ridiculous since Jaskier had just thoroughly embarrassed and potentially ended the relationship of someone Eskel considered a friend. Even as Jaskier tried to make sense of Eskel’s expression, he saw the king stand from his place at the table, glaring around at the onlookers. 

“The entertainment is over, you can stop staring now.” His order seemed to be the thing everyone needed to slowly start conversations back up, though every now and again people’s eyes would flick back to Jaskier. The king looked at Jaskier and then he frowned, pointed to Jaskier, and pointed to the seat he’d left. A clear order if Jaskier had ever seen one. 

He made his way back to the table with shaky legs and gripped the high back of the chair tightly for support, unable to look at either the king or Eskel. Eskel reached out a hand and helped Jaskier to sit with only a few touches to his wrist, pulling away once Jaskier was seated. 

“That was rather impressive.” Eskel’s voice, from next to him, made Jaskier look up at him in confusion. “You’ve got a way with words, Jaskier. I could see you writing; maybe fiction, or poetry.” 

The topic of conversation changed so fast that Jaskier could only blink at him, unsure what response he could even give to that. Eventually he managed to open his mouth. “I—I’ve composed music, sometimes, I—they let me play a lute, write new pieces and play them in court on occasion.” He really hadn’t meant to say that; what Jaskier had meant to say was that he was terribly sorry for what he’d done and he’d accept whatever punishment they came up with, but instead he blurted out that he played the lute. 

Eskel didn’t seem offended though, and he offered Jaskier another smile. “Well, if you like playing music you’re more than welcome to, I’m sure we’ve got a lute around here somewhere. That’s only if you want to, though, if it’s not something you want to do, you don’t have to.” 

As he spoke, Eskel dropped a hand onto Jaskier’s shoulder, squeezing it through the fabric of his shirt. The gesture was an innocent one but Jaskier still froze at the touch. Pulling his hand back immediately when he saw Jaskier’s face, Eskel gave him a frown. 

“Jaskier?” 

Jaskier said nothing, still looking down at his hands in his lap and trying to come to terms with everything he’d said. He’d not only told someone off, he bragged about his talents in bed before the entire hall. If he lasted the week without someone accosting him he’d be surprised. 

“Jaskier.” This time the speaker wasn’t Eskel, and Jaskier turned towards the rough growl from his left. The king was staring at him and as Jaskier turned he didn’t look away. “What is it?” 

Shaking his head wouldn’t be good enough; people asking direct questions tended to want verbal answers. Jaskier wasn’t sure how to even begin explaining it, though, nor was he confident that they’d actually listen to him. “I—I…” The king’s eyebrows pulled together when he didn’t continue, and his frown deepened. He looked behind Jaskier’s head to where Eskel must have been staring back at him. 

“Hmm.” The hum was noncommittal and Jaskier didn’t know him well enough to be able to parse it. He was surprised, though, when the man turned away from him in order to grab one of the serving bowls on the table, ladling out soup into a soup bowl to the side of his plate. He set the serving bowl down and then reached for Jaskier. Jaskier wasn’t sure what he intended to do and closed his eyes, tilting his chin up and waiting for the man’s hand to connect. After a moment, when no hit came, Jaskier opened his eyes again. The king had switched his bowl with Jaskier’s empty one and was proceeding to fill the second bowl for himself. 

Jaskier leaned back, entirely confused by what was happening, and noted that Eskel too had reached for a serving dish, spooning mashed potatoes onto his plate. Without asking, he scooped up a spoonful and leaned over to pour it onto Jaskier’s plate. Once they both had potatoes, he set the dish down and reached for a basket of rolls. 

Before his eyes Jaskier watched as his plate was slowly filled with food, the two of them taking turns adding to it until there was absolutely no space left. Every once in a while, one would ask the other to pass something and it was handed over, both men seemingly content with loading their plates and ignoring Jaskier. 

Eskel finally set down a tray and grabbed his own fork instead, spearing a chunk of mashed potato and sticking it into his mouth. He looked sidelong at Jaskier but didn’t address him, instead only offering a “Geralt.” to the man sitting to Jaskier’s other side, and then looking meaningfully at Jaskier. Something was communicated between the two of them, something more complicated than Jaskier could make out. 

The king turned to him, looking Jaskier in the eyes once more. Jaskier shrunk back in his seat, but the king didn’t do anything more than pick up his own fork and stab a piece of chicken off Jaskier’s plate, sticking it into his own mouth and chewing. Once he was done, nudged the plate a little closer to Jaskier. 

“It’s not a trick, nor is it poisoned. Eat. We’ll talk after the meal.”

Chapter Text

The king hadn’t promised that Jaskier wouldn’t be punished, but he wouldn’t have believed it if he’d said that. Jaskier instead picked up his utensils and started eating, looking from the king to Eskel and then back again. Neither of the men spared him much attention, both focused on their own food, but every once in a while he’d catch Eskel looking over at him. Every time, Eskel would offer him a smile before turning back to his own dinner. 

Jaskier was starting to believe that Eskel was a gentle man, someone who sincerely didn’t enjoy violence and who wasn’t a threat to him. He’d seen people pretend for longer, but Eskel had already had plenty of opportunities to show true colors without anyone being the wiser. He’d taken none of them, instead bandaging Jaskier up and making sure he was fed and gentled. The king was still more of a mystery, but hopefully whatever they planned to do to him after the meal would provide more information, at the very least. 

As he ate, Jaskier looked around the hall, taking more notice of the people around him. He’d been too out of it when they walked inside to really pay attention, but now he noted with some confusion that the hall was both busier and less busy than he would have expected it to be. The table they sat at was raised up above the others, because Geralt was the king, but other than that there was next to no order that he could see. Typically, in courts, the tables directly in front of the king’s table were the highest of the nobles and then class and rank would descend from there, but Jaskier could make out no discernable differences between the people sitting at the table nearest them and the ones on the far side of the room. 

It made no sense, but then again not a lot of things about this country had made sense since he arrived. Jaskier kept looking though, intent on learning as much as he could about them. As he glanced around, he saw that the mage sat a few seats down on their table, on the king’s other side. She was chatting with a young girl who sat between her and the king.

On Eskel’s opposite side, Jaskier could see that Lambert and Aiden had taken seats as far down the table as it was possible to be and were engaged in a conversation which involved both of them frowning a lot. Jaskier really hoped he hadn’t ruined their relationship—he wasn’t looking forward to the kinds of torments Lambert might think up without Aiden there to hold him back. 

As he ate, Jaskier kept returning to the fact that the hall seemed unusually full, with more people eating than any castle would usually expect to hold at any given time. Eskel had mentioned they didn’t usually host many of the nobility, which was baffling in it’s own right, but if Jaskier considered that then he was even more unsure where the extra people came from. Surely they weren’t all close personal friends of the king’s—the man gave off ‘surly’ in spades, even when he tried to be reassuring. Jaskier would be more inclined to believe that Eskel had many friends, but this number would be absurd. 

As they reached the end of the meal, he saw several people stand up from their tables and gather up empty serving dishes to bring them to the kitchens. It was only then that he realized that the hall was full of staff . Not nobles, not their ladies in waiting and grooms and other hand picked household staff, but the regular everyday people who ran the castle. Now that he was looking, Jaskier saw two or three people sitting at the tables that had slave marks similar to his own, eating alongside others and chatting amicably. 

Despite his trepidation about whatever punishment he’d earned after the meal, Jaskier couldn’t help but turn to look at Eskel. When Eskel noticed him looking, he raised an eyebrow, and Jaskier squirmed, sheepish. 

“Eskel, are there—are members of the staff eating in the hall? Along with everyone else?” Jaskier tried to keep his question quiet, unsure of the reception, but out of the corner of his eye he saw the king shifting in his seat to hear Eskel’s answer. 

Eskel, for his part, cocked his head and looked out over the hall. “Yes, most of them, although there are always people whose jobs keep them from being able to dine at the same time as us, such as bakers who rise too early and the dishwashers who have to leave usually before everyone else is finished.” He pointed to a girl who’d stood up and gathered several plates from those around her, smiling and asking around to see if there were any more close to her. “But it’s not that late, usually, so we try to accommodate everyone that we’re able to.” 

Jaskier couldn’t keep the surprise off his face and he turned to Eskel in shock. “What? But—why?” 

Eskel shrugged. “Why not? Everyone has to eat, people usually eat at the same time, it’s easier to make a lot of the same food rather than multiple things, plus this way people end up talking and sitting with others who aren’t just the people they work with.” 

He looked away from Jaskier, out over the sea of people. “We get all sorts of ideas that way. The cleaners and the laundry women realized that we always need more rags and sometimes clothes get ruined; we save a bunch of material by turning clothes that are unwearable into rags. I didn’t think of that, it was one of the heads of laundry services who came up with it by talking with someone else over dinner.” 

Jaskier was silent for a moment, taking in the new information. It did make sense, and it would save money if they came up with things like that, but surely it couldn’t have been the only reason. 

Eskel seemed to read some of that on Jaskier’s face and he grinned, leaning close. “Plus, people like it. It’s nice to be able to eat and share a meal with your friends, and maybe meet some of their friends who you didn’t know before. In just two years since we changed it we’ve had a doubling of the number of marriages we host, and if I’m not mistaken it’ll be the same with the number of babies born in another few years.” He gestured out to the assembled people, all laughing and talking amongst themselves. “Happy people tend to do better work, and they enjoy themselves more when they’re able to socialize. If we pay them better and encourage people to become friends with those who don’t do the same jobs, we still win overall.” 

Jaskier was surely frowning now; he wasn’t sure everything Eskel was saying was correct but he had no information with which to refute him. He decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt. “I guess everyone does look happier than the staff I’ve known before.” He looked back at Eskel. “But surely it’s expensive to feed everyone such good food? Usually it’s cheaper just to serve the nobles the best food and passible things for the rest.” 

To his other side the king grunted, clearly done pretending he wasn’t listening in on their conversation. “Eh, raw meat and grain is pretty cheap, the main difference is how it’s prepared. We’ve got good cooks and they know what they’re doing. I asked them to simplify some meals and give everyone the same thing; it took a month or two to figure it out but they’ve got the rhythm of it now.” 

When Jaskier turned to look at him, the king wasn’t smiling but there was a twitch in one corner of his mouth that looked like it had the potential to become a smile. Jaskier ducked his head down once more and nodded. He’d mostly finished his food and when he looked around once more, he noticed that both Eskel and the king had done the same. 

Most of Jaskier’s good humor—bolstered by the food and the conversation—dissipated instantly and he sucked in a deep breath, fingers playing with the hem of his shirt again. He frowned, knowing if he pulled the stitches out he’d ruin the clothes he’d been given, but he couldn’t make himself stop. 

Both men had detected the change in his mood, and Eskel pushed his chair out, standing with a meaningful glance at the king. Geralt sighed and stood as well, running a hand through his hair. Turning away from Jaskier, he murmured something to the girl beside him and she twisted in her own seat to reach up and hug him around the neck. Jaskier was shocked when the man actually hugged her back and kissed her on the head before letting go. 

After talking with the girl for a minute, the king shifted his focus to the mage sitting on the other side of the girl. Jaskier couldn’t make out the words, only the low grumbling timber of the king’s voice. The mage herself looked from him to Jaskier and then back once more, and Jaskier got the feeling he’d been judged and came up lacking. 

When he looked to Eskel, however, Jaskier found no answers about the two short and baffling interactions. He gave nothing away as he watched the king and the mage, his face carefully blanked. Once he turned back around, the king looked Jaskier in the eye. 

“We can talk in my study.” The king inclined his head towards a door Jaskier hadn’t seen before, one set into the back of the room. It made sense to have a second entrance, Jaskier supposed, since walking through the entire hall to leave every night might be a bit much. 

He followed as the king led, with Eskel falling into step beside Jaskier. When he looked at Eskel, the other man offered him a reassuring smile. Jaskier tried to return it but wasn’t sure he’d been successful and turned his head to face forward once more instead of trying again. 

The walk was quiet with the halls emptier than he’d seen them all day, and Jaskier tried not to focus on his possible punishments or ways they planned to keep him from talking, instead looking at the floor and trying to remember the route they took. He recognized the hallway for a few hundred feet but then the king made a turn and they were in a part of the palace he hadn’t been to yet. He frowned, thinking over the map he’d been building in his head, and tried to figure out how the route would take them back around the dining hall and towards the direction of the man’s gold-encrusted study. He couldn’t see how they were doing anything other than moving in the wrong direction, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to question where they were going. 

Finally, after what felt like many more twists and turns than it took to get to Eskel’s study, the king stopped in front of a door. It was completely unadorned and looked exactly like every other door they’d passed in the hallway; Jaskier raised his eyebrows but said nothing as the king opened it, indicating that Jaskier and Eskel were to precede him into the room. 

Jaskier stepped inside first, looking around. It was absolutely nothing like what he expected. There was a fireplace with the fire in it burned low that kept the room comfortably warm, a dark wooden desk with more than a few stacks of paper on it, a comfortable chair behind the desk that looked both well used and well taken care of, and a set of bookshelves built into the walls that ran the span of two of them, all filled with books of different shapes and sizes. 

He focused on the books, looking at the names on the spines and trying to figure out the order. He couldn’t discern any order at all, not by size or color (the usual organization favored by royals wanting to show off) but nor was it by title or author either. Some of the books looked like they’d been published very recently, and some were so old and worn that Jaskier had trouble making out any of the information, looking like they’d fall apart if you were to open them. Every shelf was packed full and some had books stacked up above and in front of the shelved ones, with every possible space used. As Jaskier looked around he also noticed that there was a stack of books sitting on the desk as well, although he couldn’t see what they were. 

He was brought back to the present when the door opened once more. Jaskier looked to the doorway, where the mage was slipping into the room. She didn’t bother to look at Jaskier, instead frowning at the king, and Jaskier realized that both he and Eskel had already taken seats. Eskel had an empty chair next to him and he gestured; Jaskier sat quickly, not wanting to dawdle. 

Nobody spoke. Jaskier tried his absolute best to keep his eyes on his hands in his lap, but after what seemed like an unbearable amount of time he finally looked up, trying to see why nobody had said anything yet. When he did, he realized that the king and the mage had locked eyes and appeared to be having an argument that consisted of nothing but minute twitches and facial expressions; if he wasn’t so worried, Jaskier would have found the show comical. 

Eventually the king sighed and rubbed a hand over his eyes, breaking eye contact with her. “Fine, just, fine. But if you’re going to give him the offer we might as well tell him everything first.” Jaskier had no idea what that was supposed to mean, and he shrunk back when the woman looked at him, her eyes narrowed.

Chapter Text

“Telling him just makes more work for me.” The mage’s voice was cold and she inspected Jaskier like he was a bug, looking him over as he waited for whatever punishment they decided on. 

Eskel cleared his throat, leaning forward. “He should know everything, it’s only fair. We pulled him from the only life he’s known, Yennefer, we at least owe him the courtesy of telling him the truth of why it has to be done.” 

Deciding that he did not like the sound of whatever it was that ‘needed to be done’, Jaskier squirmed in his seat. The motion brought the attention of all three others back to him and he winced, trying not to show how uncomfortable the attention made him. 

Yennefer sighed and threw up her hands. “Fine, tell him. But make it quick, I don’t have all night.” 

The king smirked, looking up at her from behind his desk. “You don’t? Are you saying you have plans tonight, then?” Yennefer sneered at him and rolled her eyes, seemingly unbothered with being rude to a king. Of course she was a mage, which made her one of the most powerful people on the continent and far higher than mere royalty, but Jaskier thought she’d at least pretend deference. 

Eskel cleared his throat again and looked at Jaskier, his expression soft. “I’m sorry that we’ve been so unwilling to offer more information. It’s—we have a rather vested interest in making sure nobody learns of what we do in addition to running the kingdom, and if our secret gets out, people could get hurt.” 

Eskel’s words could have sounded like a veiled threat but instead Jaskier just heard empathy and a longing to keep that from happening. He nodded at the other man, trying his best to ignore the other two in favor of focusing on Eskel. “I understand. I—I won’t tell anyone your secret, but I know that you can’t just trust my word.” He gave the other man a sad smile, his forehead creasing. “Whatever it is that you feel you need to do in order to keep me from telling others, I accept it.” 

“It’s not that simple.” The king’s voice rang out and Jaskier jumped, turning towards him. He was still frowning, a little wrinkle between his eyebrows, and he leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk. “There’s more yet that you don’t know and you deserve to have the truth before we present you with your options.” Jaskier stared back at him, wide eyed, and waited for him to continue. Rubbing a hand over his face, the king grunted. “Fuck.” He looked up at Jaskier, still frowning. “You might feel dizzy, or like something is wrong. That’s a normal reaction, don’t fight it and it should be over quickly.” 

Jaskier had absolutely no idea what was about to happen but he was frozen in place, pinned by that golden gaze. The king growled under his breath before speaking once more. “We’re witchers.” 

Jaskier opened his mouth, intent on asking what the hell the king was on about, but instead the memories slammed into him like a galloping horse. 

Henselt raging about hiring a witcher who’d insisted on being paid upon completing a job. Whispered rumors of a witcher who’d murdered dozens in Blaviken. Stories and songs featuring Witchers as beasts or heroes, depending on who was doing the telling. A lifetime of hearing about mutants bred to kill the monsters that entered their world during the conjunction of the spheres. 

His head was spinning, the knowledge making him dizzy. He raised his hands to his temples, rubbing as he tried to make sense of it all. After a few minutes the headache lessened and he looked up, seeking out Eskel’s gaze. 

Eskel looked worried but he didn’t reach for Jaskier, just squeezed his hands together in his lap. “Do you remember?” 

Jaskier nodded slowly at him, eyes wide as he tried to make the pieces fit. A small noise from the king had Jaskier’s eyes swinging back over to the other man and as he looked upon the king he inhaled sharply, even more pieces coming together. Geralt of Rivia. 

“You’re—you’re—” Jaskier couldn’t make himself say the words but the man inclined his head, his expression sour. 

“A witcher. Yes.” The king grunted and pursed his lips together. 

“The Butcher of Blaviken.” At Jaskier’s words Geralt winced, looking away. Eskel shifted, drawing Jaskier’s attention back to him. 

“That’s not really the most accurate moniker, but yes.” He glanced over to where Yennefer was standing and looking bored. “Nobody else on the continent knows what we are, but you needed to, to make an informed decision.” Eskel scratched at his scars, looking Jaskier in the eyes. “You need to know what you’re getting into, if you want to stay.” 

The idea of staying hadn’t really been an option in Jaskier’s mind until Eskel mentioned it like it truly was a possibility, and he could do nothing but gape back at the man. At the witcher . 

When Jaskier didn’t respond, his voice having deserted him, Yennefer groaned. “I could have told you he wouldn’t take it well.” She straightened from where she’d been leaning against the desk and waved a hand towards Jaskier’s face. “You should have just told him his options and not bothered with everything else, he’s clearly not in the right mind to make the choice now.” 

Annoyed, Jaskier shook himself, looking up to meet her eyes. “I’m fine, thank you very much. Excuse me if having years of memories I’d apparently forgotten all come rushing back has thrown me off.” He frowned and looked back at Eskel. “Why did I forget everything? I—I have all the memories, they’re not faded, so how come I’m only able to remember them now?” 

Eskel scratched at his scars some more and shuffled his feet. “When Geralt was first offered the throne, he insisted that nobody would listen to a witcher king. Yennefer offered the option of a spell that would make the entire continent forget about the existence of witchers, so long as nobody reminded them.” He shrugged. “It worked, for the most part, although anyone who is reminded of our existence remembers everything.” 

Jaskier, not sure where to even begin trying to sort through everything, closed his eyes, scrubbing his palms over his face. To his surprise, the next voice to speak up wasn’t Eskel, or even Yennefer, but the king, who had been sitting in stiff silence since Jaskier called him the Butcher of Blaviken. 

“So now you know what we really are. Just who it was that took you.” His voice was tense and Jaskier had to open his eyes, seeking out the other man’s gaze. The king was frowning, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared back at Jaskier. “We didn’t want you to make a choice without having all the facts.” He glanced towards Yennefer and then back to Jaskier. “In regards to what your options are, there are two ways to keep you from exposing us.” 

Jaskier nodded, wanting to know what they would potentially do to keep him quiet. Instead of the king explaining further, however, it was Yennefer that spoke up. “Like Geralt said, there are two options. Number one,” She lifted one manicured fingernail up. “Is to wipe everything you know about us and send you somewhere you won’t be found by your previous owners .” She sneered the word, disgust written over her face. “We’d give you a choice—there are several freed slave towns in Rivia where you’d be welcomed with open arms and no questions asked and you could spend the rest of your life doing whatever pleased you.” 

Jaskier gulped, chewing on his bottom lip. The idea of being more or less free to live his life how he wanted was an incredibly tempting one, but it came at the cost of losing gods know how much it would take to make sure he wasn’t a threat. So much of his life had already been controlled by others, and the idea of giving up his memories sent a cold shiver up his spine. 

He looked up at Yennefer, who still stood above him. “What’s the second option?” 

Another manicured fingernail was raised. “Option two is that you get to keep your memories, but I put a block in your head so you’re unable to speak about any of the things we’d rather you not. It would be a little less invasive, but I can’t promise that it would be entirely comfortable, given that the spell would physically stop you from speaking if you tried to say something you weren’t allowed to. You’d still be allowed to leave, if you so chose; if we took the memories from you, however, you wouldn’t be allowed to stay at the palace since there’s a chance something could remind you and the spell would break.” 

Frowning up at her, Jaskier cocked his head. “How would I be kept from talking about it? Would the spell strangle me or something?” 

Eskel turned to him sharply at Jaskier’s casual mention of being strangled, but Yennefer just shook her head at him. 

“Nothing so crass, nor as damaging. You’d just be unable to form the words, like a sneeze that never comes. It can be quite frustrating if one tries multiple times.” 

Jaskier sat back in his chair, thinking it over. All in all the choice seemed like an easy one, given how much he disliked the idea of having Yennefer (or anyone else, really, it wasn’t a slight against her specifically) go digging around in his head and taking his memories. He only took a minute to think before looking back up at her, to the king, and then towards Eskel. 

“The second one, then, if that’s alright. I’d like to keep my memories as they are.” 

Yennefer gave him an almost-smile, the ghost of approval sweeping over her face for a moment, and turned back to look the king in the eyes. “Do you agree?” 

He inclined his head, his eyes fixed on Jaskier. “If that’s what he wants, I do.” 

Yennefer nodded before turning to face Eskel, who sat staring at Jaskier as well. She motioned vaguely and he looked up, his brow furrowing as he looked at her. “What?” 

The mage rolled her eyes. “Get up, I’m taking your chair.” Crossing her arms she leveled him with a reproachful look and Eskel grumbled but stood, pushing his chair back and gesturing to it. 

“Here, you go, my lady.” His voice was sarcastic but not mean and Yennefer paid him no mind as she took the offered seat, turning the chair until she faced Jaskier. She motioned to him and he turned his chair as well until they sat facing each other, their knees brushing. Jaskier wasn’t sure what to expect and so when Yennefer took his hands, he just watched her, waiting to see what she’d do. 

His hands were positioned so they lay over his knees, palms up. Her own hands went to his temples, rubbing her forefingers through his hair until she held his head firmly. “This might pinch a little.” 

Seeing as they’d given him a similar warning when it came to the reminder about witchers, Jaskier just shrugged. “It’s got to be done.” He got a nod and another flash of something that might have been approval before she cleared her expression, closing her eyes. 

For a moment, nothing happened. Jaskier flicked his gaze towards the king, who was still sitting at the desk, and then Eskel, who’d taken to leaning against the desk a few inches closer to the king than one might expect a trusted advisor to stand. 

Before Jaskier could file away that piece of information for later, though, he felt a sharp jolt run through his body from his temples downwards and his eyes snapped back to Yennefer, who still had her own eyes closed. She didn’t let go of his head but she frowned, her lips curling into a sneer as she did whatever it was that she was doing. Jaskier would have thought he’d be able to feel someone poking around in his mind but he didn’t feel any different aside from the strange pulsing of energy that came from her hands at his temples every few seconds. 

The sensation got stronger, intensifying, and then Yennefer gasped, her eyes flying open as she let go of Jaskier all at once. “It’s done.” She was breathing harder and she looked up at him, eyes wide. “You won’t be able to talk about Geralt or anyone else being a witcher, or the fact that he’s got a side hobby as an assassin—” The king grunted out a noise of annoyance but didn’t say anything, and Yennefer ignored him. “And you should be kept from speaking of anything that we don’t want you to.” 

As she spoke, she pulled herself together and ran a hand over her hair, smoothing out any loose flyaways before doing the same to her dress to straighten any wrinkles. Jaskier didn’t think she looked any different, but clearly the adjustments to her appearance helped her resettle herself. He cocked his head, looking her up and down and taking in the still wide eyes and heavy breathing. 

“Thank you, my lady. I appreciate you helping to keep me from accidentally spilling any secrets.” He didn’t mention the effort it had clearly taken her and instead Jaskier just reached for a hand and kissed her knuckles. 

Yennefer, to her credit, looked absolutely nonplussed by Jaskier’s reaction. She pulled her hand back as soon as she was able, a look of discomfort on her face before she smoothed it away. “It’s fine, it’s my job. Plus, I’m no lady, I’m a mage. A sorceress. Not one of the flowery little birds you expect to find at court.” 

Jaskier grinned at her then, leaning back in his chair. Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders at the realization that they probably weren’t going to lock him in a dungeon. “Well I must say I much prefer it that way, I always did receive such vexing blame from the ladies of the court.” He smirked a little, his eyes flicking to Eskel and the king. “Bringing their husbands off faster than they ever could made me the target of more than a little ill will, albeit sometimes tempered by their own enjoyment of my talents.” 

To Jaskier’s surprise, neither Eskel nor the king seemed to find it very funny, although Yennefer cracked a rather wicked smile. The king leaned forward in his chair, looking at Jaskier intently. “You don’t have to do that any more.” His voice was rough and he held Jaskier’s eyes. “I know you’re—you may be used to speaking lightly of those—of the services you performed, but please know that you need not treat them as though you were a consenting party. It is disgusting, what you were made to do, and you don’t have to speak of it at all if you don’t want to.” 

It was not what Jaskier was expecting the man to say. He hadn’t thought what he did would be something that would disgust the man, although there were always those that were disgusted with the existence of slaves like him. He just hadn’t expected this man, who by all accounts acted like he believed Jaskier deserved better, to think him disgusting. 

Jaskier nodded stiffly, breaking their eye contact and looking away, towards the floor. “Right, well then. I—how do we know if it worked, then?” He found Yennefer’s eyes. “The spell, I mean.” 

She scoffed at him and tossed her hair. “Please, as if it wouldn’t have worked. The spell is solid, you should be able to do as you please without giving away anything you shouldn’t.” She shrugged. “But if you do feel the need to test it out, you can just try to mention witchers to the next person you see. You’ll only be able to if they already know about it, which only a select few do. All of the witchers do, of course, and one or two others, although most of the others that do have similar blocks to yours to keep them from accidentally saying anything they shouldn’t.” 

Jaskier had to wonder at that, who else knew about the witchers and why they’d been muzzled the same way he was, but he pushed the question out of his mind in favor of refocusing on Yennefer. “I’ll give it a go with the next person I run into just to ensure that I’m not putting you all at risk, but I’m sure that the spell is well crafted and there will be no problems.” 

She smirked back at him and nodded before finally standing up. Yennefer gave the king and Eskel a cursory glance. “It’s done. Let me know if there is anything else.” She didn’t give them a chance to respond before sweeping out of the room, her dress billowing behind her as if blown by a gust of wind. 

When Jaskier finally met Eskel’s eyes, the witcher cracked a small smile at him. “She’s got style, doesn’t she?” Jaskier had to laugh and nodded his agreement, losing more of the tension he’d been holding since he arrived in Rivia. Eskel’s eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled and Jaskier found himself noticing it, wanting to make the man laugh more often. 

“That she does.” Jaskier said, standing from his chair as well. He kept his eyes focused on Eskel, not wanting to force the king to spend more time in Jaskier’s presence than he had to. “Since I’m not a danger to you anymore, might I request the key to my rooms?” Jaskier held out a hand to Eskel, raising his eyebrows. “I will get out of your hair as soon as I’m able, perhaps travel to one of those former slave towns Yennefer mentioned, but I’d be grateful if your hospitality extended until the morning.” 

Eskel frowned at him but fished the key out of his pocket, dropping it into Jaskier’s outstretched palm. Before Jaskier could leave the room, however, Eskel’s hand gently closed around his wrist, holding him in place. “You don’t have to leave immediately if you don’t want to, Jaskier.” He held the former slave’s eyes, his face imploring. “We’re not going to kick you out; it’s been a shock for you I’m sure and we’re more than able to let you stay as long as you want. If you don’t want to—to live amongst witchers, I’d understand, but know that you always have a place here if you need it.” 

He sounded like he meant it and Jaskier nodded, grateful for the warmth in Eskel’s voice. “Thank you. I’ll—I may take a few days then, to get my affairs in order and decide what I’ll do, if that’s acceptable. My presence would no doubt make others uncomfortable before too much longer, though,” He pointedly did not look at the king. “So I think I’ll still take my leave of you sooner than later in hopes of not overstaying my welcome.” 

Eskel frowned and looked like he wanted to say something more, but Jaskier gave him a brisk nod before the large man could respond and turned towards the door. He was determined to leave (both the room and the castle) without any more mention of his previous, and disgusting, life. 

When Jaskier’s hand landed on the doorknob, there was a scraping and he looked back to see that the king had stood from his chair and was looking at him with a strange expression. Jaskier hesitated, waiting to see if the king would disagree with Eskel’s statement and demand he leave before the morning, but he stayed silent, just frowning at him. After a moment it became clear that he wasn’t going to say anything further and so Jaskier turned the doorknob and stepped back out into the hallway.

Chapter Text

In the hall, Jaskier found himself alone for the first time in a very long time, not counting when he was asleep. He took a deep breath and let it out, rubbing his hands over his eyes. He wouldn’t break down right there—he had more self control than that—but he considered it anyway. Disregarding the thought almost immediately, Jaskier instead set off back down the hall. 

For all that he’d tried to memorize what he could of the palace layout, Jaskier only got a few turns into what he thought was the way back to his rooms before realizing that he was hopelessly lost. He spun around a few times, trying to see if he could find any landmarks he recognized, but the hallway looked exactly like the one he’d just come from, and he wasn’t even sure which one that was when he looked behind himself. 

While the hallways had been fairly busy in the afternoon, they were now quiet as the residents of the palace got ready for bed and retired for the night. As a result Jaskier was the only one in the hallway, so he couldn’t even ask someone passing by for directions. He frowned and crossed his arms, looking up and down the hall before deciding that he had to go somewhere and he’d be better off if he kept moving, since at least that way he’d be more likely to run into someone who’d be able to show him the way. 

He set off once more, walking at a steady pace. As he walked, Jaskier looked down each cross-hallway he passed, craning his neck to make sure he didn’t recognize anything. He had no luck, and when he reached the end of the hall, he picked a direction at random and continued on, looking for anything that would help him find his way. 

After about five minutes of walking without seeing another soul Jaskier heard a door open from behind him and whirled on his heels, eager to finally have someone to ask for help. When he saw who it was, though, he nearly turned tail and walked as fast as he could in the other direction. 

Aiden gave Jaskier a glance and raised an eyebrow at him, clearly wondering why Jaskier was walking the halls alone. Jaskier opened his mouth and closed it again after a moment as he tried to figure out how to explain. 

Luckily for Jaskier, Aiden didn’t seem as interested in injuring him as his boyfriend, and when no Lambert appeared to snarl in Jaskier’s face, he let out a sigh. The other man took a step towards him, studying Jaskier’s face as he did. 

“I thought you were supposed to have an escort?” Aiden’s voice held no censure, only mild curiosity, and he swept his eyes over Jaskier’s frame. The look was less predatory than Jaskier anticipated and he breathed out a sigh of relief when the man didn’t step any closer. 

“Yennefer spelled me. I’m safe now, can’t give away any secrets.” Jaskier shrugged, and then looked the other man over more closely. He hadn’t recognized the sheer muscle mass that covered Aiden’s body before but now that he’d been made aware of the existence of witchers he could see that the man was clearly one of them even if he didn’t have the same build as the king or Eskel or even Lambert. “I’m a free man, at least as free as I can be with this on my neck anyways.” He gestured loosely towards the brand and Aiden just nodded at him. 

“Well I’m glad that they figured something out, it’s never good to have something like that hanging over your head.” He sounded genuine and Jaskier couldn’t help the smile he shot back at the other man, feeling more comfortable than he’d have expected. 

“Ah, yeah, well I can see why you all have all the secrecy.” Jaskier waved a hand. “What with what you are and all I can see you being rather protective of the information.” 

Aiden’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “What are we, exactly?” 

Jaskier hesitated, unsure if the spell would keep him from speaking it aloud. Surely the man was a witcher, so the spell wouldn’t activate, but if Jaskier assumed wrong he’d just look like a moron. “You’re…witchers. You, Eskel, Lambert, the king.” He shrugged, trying to play himself off with nonchalance. “I can’t talk about it with anyone that doesn’t already know.” 

Aiden’s eyebrows didn’t lower at all and he stared openly at Jaskier for a few moments. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d tell you. I expected them to pull out everything incriminating and send you on your way, to be honest.” Jaskier shrugged back at him, unsure what to say. 

“Yeah, me too. I think they felt guilty for kidnapping me.” He shrugged again. “I’m glad to be able to keep my memories at least. I’ll be gone soon, though, so everything should go back to normal once I leave.” 

Aiden frowned at him. “You’re leaving?” Jaskier nodded. “Why? They wouldn’t have trusted just anyone with that information, with or without a spell to keep you from talking about it. If they’re going through the trouble to make sure you know everything, they don’t want you to leave.” 

Jaskier gave him a slight smile, shaking his head. “Ah, well, I think it’s probably for the best if I don’t stay, all things considered. I’m—I’m probably not going to be of much use, after all, since most of my talents involve lying on my back and I’d rather not whore myself out in exchange for a roof over my head if I don’t have to.” His smile turned wry. “And I know that my…..past uses and proclivities tend to make me someone who some would see as disgusting, and, well. I’d rather not force anyone to have to deal with me if they consider someone like me to be tainted by what I’ve done.” 

Aiden was frowning harder at him and he crossed his arms, staring Jaskier down. “You’re not disgusting, or tainted. You did what you had to do to survive and nobody should ever think less of you for it. Has anyone said that to you here?” 

Jaskier scratched at the back of his neck, looking away. “Not really, no, just—just something I know people tend to think. But it’s fine, truly, I don’t need to stay, and I’ll be just fine. Yennefer mentioned something about there being a few freed slave towns in Rivia, I think I’d be able to find a place there without too much trouble.” 

Aiden didn’t stop frowning at him but didn’t push the issue, allowing Jaskier to drop the subject. Instead he cocked his head and looked Jaskier over. “Alright. And what are you doing here anyway, in this part of the palace? Your rooms and pretty much everything else is nowhere near here, I wouldn’t have expected you’d be out and about for a stroll for the fun of it.” 

Jaskier grinned at him, batting his eyelashes. “Well, as a matter of fact I am hopelessly lost.” Aiden barked out a surprised laugh and shook his head, finally losing the frown lingering on his face. “Is there a chance I could bother you to point me in the direction of my rooms? I’m still learning the layout of the palace and I have no idea how I even ended up here.” 

Nodding, Aiden ran a hand through his hair, looking Jaskier over. “I can do you one better, I’ll take you there myself.” He grinned. “The palace is a nightmare to navigate if you don’t know where you’re going; if I tried to give you directions I’d only succeed in getting you more lost than you already are.” 

Jaskier shrugged and nodded at him, willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt. “Lead on then, if you don’t mind me keeping you from what you were doing.” 

Aiden grinned at him and beckoned Jaskier to follow him as he turned and headed back down the hall in the direction Jaskier had come from. “Nothing to keep me from. Alright, this way.” 

Jaskier jogged to catch up with him and fell into step, content to walk silently beside Aiden as the other man led. After a few minutes Jaskier’s curiosity got the better of him, however, and he chanced a look at Aiden out of the corner of his eyes. 

“Is—um, your—your boyfriend won’t be angry with you for helping me, will he? I don’t want to get between the two of you, um, any more than I already have.” Jaskier’s voice was halting and he hated how small he sounded. Aiden, for his part, turned to shoot him a smirk before facing forward again. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about Lambert, if he even tries to say anything I’m going to shove my boot so far up his ass that he can taste it.” 

Jaskier, to his credit, did attempt to stop the words from leaving his mouth, but the sarcasm instinct was one he’d never managed to fully stamp out. “Oh, that’s one of the rarer sex acts, you know, fisting but with a foot. I wouldn’t have pegged him as such an adventurous type but I guess you can’t always tell with some people.” 

Jaskier looked to the side and saw Aiden staring at him, eyes wide, for one long moment before the man burst into laughter, leaning over and holding himself up with palms on his thighs as he laughed. After a minute he was wiping tears from his eyes, still wheezing as he fought to get himself back under control. Jaskier waited out the worst of it, trying to hide his worry behind a grin of his own. Luckily, Aiden didn’t seem annoyed, only amused. 

Once Aiden had himself more or less back under control he shook his head, looking at Jaskier, and started walking again without a word. Jaskier followed, keeping pace, and they made good time. Soon, the hallways surrounding them became familiar once more and Jaskier noted that they were coming up on the rooms he was using for the time being. 

When they came to a stop Aiden gestured to the rooms with a flourish and a grin and Jaskier smiled back. He fished the key out of his pocket but before he went to unlock the door footsteps sounded from the other end of the hall and both Jaskier and Aiden looked up to see who it was. 

Eskel held up a hand as he jogged the last few yards between himself and the pair awkwardly. When he reached them he looked between Jaskier and Aiden with some confusion but shook himself, instead locking eyes with Jaskier. “I’m glad you found your way back, I was—I realized after you left that you might not know the way, since the layout of the halls is less than ideal.” He shrugged. “But I guess you didn’t need my help getting back after all.” 

Jaskier watched Eskel look Aiden over with no small amount of something that looked a lot like jealousy. Jealousy was dangerous, though, and Jaskier hadn’t felt anything resembling desire from Eskel before so it had to be something else. Aiden, for his part, seemed perfectly content to stand there beside Jaskier with his hands in his pockets. 

When he finally got the door unlocked Jaskier turned the handle and pushed, throwing the door open before he turned to face both witchers looming at his back. “Well, I’m glad to have found my way back and I appreciate having the key, Eskel. I’ll just....bid the two of you good night, then.” 

Both men seemed a little surprised at the sudden declaration, but Jaskier stepped backwards and closed the door before either of them could respond. It was only after he leaned back against the closed door that he realized just how fast his heart was beating, and that his adrenaline had spiked. Neither man had shown an interest in him, he was sure, but just the sensation of having two large men hovering at his back had his body reacting instinctively. 

Jaskier took a moment to lean against the door, unsure his legs would support him if he didn’t give it a second, and so he heard the sound of the two men talking on the other side. 

Aiden’s voice was louder. “—worried about him, Eskel. He’s—we can’t just let him go , he’s still  so fucking scared. I don’t—I don’t want to keep him here, but he’ll do worse on his own.” 

Eskel’s response came only a second later. “I know. We were going to talk to him about it earlier but he said he wanted to be alone and we weren’t about to force the issue.” 

“Eskel, he referred to himself as disgusting and tainted . I—c’mon, man, he’s so...look, alright, if he wants to leave he gets to leave, but I just want to wrap him in blankets and hug him.” Aiden’s frank language shocked Jaskier, who pressed his ear more firmly against the door. 

“....shit. Fucking hell, I know exactly why he said that. Ugh. Geralt, much as I love him, does not have a way with words.” Eskel gave another frustrated grunt. “I’ll mention to Geralt that what he said came out differently than intended, and try to catch Jaskier tomorrow to explain.” There was a scuffling noise and what sounded like one of them had clapped the other on the shoulder. “Alright, we should go though, don’t want anyone to get the wrong idea with us standing out here.” 

Aiden grunted back in agreement and Jaskier heard no more of their conversation, just the sound of their footsteps walking away. 

He pushed away from the door, his head still spinning. He got halfway to the large bed before he realized that he still had the keys in his hand, and hadn’t actually locked the room. Groaning, Jaskier turned back to the door and found the lock, turning the key and breathing out a sigh of relief as he let himself relax. He was alone and the door was locked; nobody would be getting in or out of the room that night without the keys, and even if they had them Jaskier would hear them coming. 

With a sigh he ran his hands through his hair, grateful that his chest and back had healed up enough that he could lift his arms without too much trouble. A yawn forced its way out of his mouth, surprising him, but as Jaskier took stock of his own body he realized that he was exhausted despite sleeping in. It made sense, after all he’d probably gotten less than six hours even with the late rise, and the combination of fear and adrenaline that kept him going for most of the day hadn’t exactly been relaxing . 

Jaskier gave the bathroom a longing look, wondering if he could get away with bathing before he slept, but forwent the luxury when he yawned again, this time so wide his jaw cracked with it. His eyelids were already dropping lower and he knew that if he were to get into a tub of steaming water, he’d probably fall asleep and drown. 

Hauling his tired body over to the bed, Jaskier undressed and threw the clothes haphazardly onto the floor, promising himself that he’d wash them tomorrow. He also had the little matter of not having any other clothes to wear the next day as well, but he brushed that worry aside as he climbed into the bed, snuggling himself down under the covers. Now that he wasn’t as worried about being fucked, killed, or jailed (at least not to the extent as he’d been the night before) he was able to appreciate the bed’s comforts more and drifted off to sleep curled into the plush covers.

Chapter Text

The new day dawned early and bright and Jaskier woke to sun streaming in through his windows at a sharper angle than the day before. He took that to mean he’d actually woken up before noon and sighed, rolling over in the bed to face the door. It was locked, the key in the lock where he’d left it, and he smiled to himself before deciding he could use a few more minutes of sleep and snuggling back into the covers. 

He dozed for an unknown amount of time, but when Jaskier finally decided to get out of bed the sun had only moved a little, so he was willing to bet it wasn’t that long. When he dropped his feet to the floor Jaskier stood and stretched, pushing his hands as high towards the ceiling as they could go and groaning at the feeling in his back. He could tell that the welts from the cane had mostly gone down and what bruising there still was had stopped aching as much. 

Jaskier peeled off the bandages Eskel had carefully applied to his chest and back, inspecting the cuts, and found that where skin had been broken they were healing nicely. Nothing would stop him from being able to take a bath and he grinned again at the memory of how good it felt. 

The thought hit him that if he stayed here, if he let them convince him to stay, he could have hot baths whenever he wanted to. Eskel had said the water was spelled hot so he’d never have to worry about using too much, which was an intoxicating thought. Jaskier took a moment to savor the idea of perhaps hooking up one of the pipes to run hot water over his whole body, like bathing in a downpour but with heated water. At that thought Jaskier’s eyes fluttered closed and he moaned indecently, fully enjoying the privacy of his own company in a way that he almost never got to. 

When with others, Jaskier was used to controlling himself, making sure that he never sounded like he was trying to entice anyone (except for those times when he was , although not really of his own choice), but alone he could do whatever he wanted now, didn’t have to worry about censoring himself or arousing the wrong person. He groaned again, this time running a hand down his stomach and wrapping it lazily around his cock, which was half-hard by virtue of it being morning. 

Jaskier hadn’t pleasured himself in a long time. He’d been encouraged to, by others, sometimes, to put on a show for their pleasure before they used him, but the decision to do it for himself? He couldn’t even remember, it had probably been years. Why bother, really, when there was always a chance some noble lady would demand he pleasure her, that he show his clear arousal for her body? So he’d forgone his own pleasure, relying instead on the fact that his owners sometimes deigned to get him off when they did. 

But now, knowing that he was alone and that nobody would demand use of his body (and be granted it) for their pleasure, and that he had a hot bath with his name on it, Jaskier permitted himself to buck up into his own soft touch, moaning as he tightened his grip around himself, rubbing the pad of his thumb around the head of his cock. It felt nice, not urgent, and he luxuriated in the choice to touch for another moment before letting go in favor of moving into the bathroom. 

The bathroom was just as opulent as he remembered it and he attended to his bodily needs quickly before turning to the bathtub. It really was more like a small swimming pool in size, and he took great pleasure in twisting the hot water tap as high as it would go. This time, when he added cold, he halved the stream to get the hottest bath his body could stand. It filled quickly and Jaskier didn’t bother picking out different soaps than the ones he’d used previously—he got no complaints, so he figured they didn’t offend too badly. 

Bath full, Jaskier slipped down into the water and groaned, stretching his arms out to rest along the rim. The water was so hot it nearly hurt but it felt so good against his muscles that Jaskier didn’t bother adding any more cold. 

He spent time just soaking, enjoying watching his toes prune up as he lingered. He had nobody waiting on him, nothing pressing that needed doing, and he could take as long as he wanted in the hot water. When the water started to cool Jaskier pulled the plug before refilling the bath at the same temperature it had been before. This time, though, he actually reached for the soap and started washing himself, scrubbing down the lines of his body. 

When Jaskier reached for the shampoo he couldn’t help his mind drifting back to Eskel washing his hair for him and how nice it felt. He’d been too scared at the time to actually enjoy it but as he lathered up his hair he let himself drift back, remembering how good Eskel was at it. The man had strong, capable hands and he knew how to use them well. 

Thinking about Eskel washing his hair, Jaskier found himself half-hard once more and he finished rinsing quickly, letting a hand drift down to grip himself. He worked his cock lazily, not bothering to get out of the bathwater, and when he finally came Jaskier’s thoughts were on those beautiful hands and what else they might be good at. 

The orgasm that shot through him wasn’t the hardest he’d ever come, nor was it the most pleasurable, but it was his decision and it felt eons better by virtue of that alone. Jaskier worked to get his breathing under control as he came down from it, his thoughts turning back to Eskel with a more scrutinizing tone this time. 

Eskel was, by everything Jaskier could see, a good man through and through. He’d never once given Jaskier the impression he wanted that from him, or wanted anything else, really, except maybe Jaskier’s own peace and comfort. Jaskier still wasn’t about to seduce him and find out how he was really like. Having nobody but himself to pleasure was all Jaskier wanted or needed at the moment, his thoughts about Eskel’s hands notwithstanding, and he decided that while daydreaming about the man jerking him off was fine, he was absolutely not interested in any kind of physical relationship at present. 

Having decided that, Jaskier finally opened his eyes and pulled the plug from the bottom of the tub to let it drain. He gave himself a once-over to make sure he hadn’t missed any spots and hopped out of the bathtub upon confirmation that he hadn’t. 

There were more fluffy towels in the cupboard Eskel had produced one from the other night, and Jaskier used one to dry himself off before wrapping it around his waist. Walking back into the bedroom he found the clothes he’d worn the day before and put them on with only a few moments of disgust. Having clothes was better than not having clothes and Jaskier was grateful enough for the one pair. He’d have to see about where the laundry was at some point so he’d be able to wash them, but he decided to wait to ask Eskel instead of trying to find it himself. 

Washed, dressed, and hungry, Jaskier unlocked his door in the hopes of finding himself some breakfast. He relocked it behind himself and slipped the key into his pocket, feeling a shiver run up his spine that he was even allowed a lock. Taking a few deep breaths, Jaskier managed to keep himself from getting overwhelmed and instead headed in the direction of the hall where they’d had dinner the night before. 

When he reached the hall he found it half-full of people—less than had been at dinner, but with the atmosphere that breakfast had been going on for a while, and people came and went when they could. As Jaskier walked inside he noted that much like dinner it seemed casual, with everyone serving themselves from large central platters covering the tables. The number of people in the hall still made him a little nervous but as he looked around he found that nobody was paying him much attention, mostly all involved in their own ongoing conversations. 

There were spots open along the tables but Jaskier didn’t know if he’d be allowed to just take a seat anywhere. Looking towards the king’s table, where he’d sat the night before, he saw with a shock that Eskel was sitting there, watching him rather intently. Having been caught looking, Eskel broke into a grin and beckoned to Jaskier from across the sea of people. Jaskier went, unsure what the man wanted with him. 

The table was mostly empty when Jaskier reached it, most of the settings either gone or clearly used. Two or three people who Jaskier didn’t know sat on the end of the table, deep in conversation, and he circumvented them, coming to a stop behind Eskel’s seat. Eskel turned around to see him and then patted the seat next to him. Where, Jaskier noted, there was a clean plate and utensils waiting. 

“Sit, eat. I wanted to make sure that you got breakfast.” Eskel’s voice was low, for all its warmth, and Jaskier took the offered seat, ducking his head in thanks. “Although, you should know that if you ever want to sit anywhere else, you’re welcome to, I just thought you might be glad for a friendly face.” He shrugged. 

“No, it’s—thanks, Eskel, I wasn’t sure. I’m not—nobody was going to sit here? It’s alright that I’m up here with you?” Jaskier asked, not touching the silverware yet. Eskel’s smile softened and he nodded. 

“It’s fine, Jaskier. We’re not too big on propriety here, if you hadn’t noticed, and I’d rather you sit where you want and actually eat breakfast than worry about it.” Eskel reached for a plate covered with large, sticky cinnamon rolls. He pried two of them off the plate and dropped them onto Jaskier’s. “Now, I can guess what you’re hungry for or you can choose for yourself—and know that I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth.” He winked at Jaskier, reaching for what looked like a tureen of syrup. 

Jaskier gulped and shook his head, reaching quickly for a plate of scrambled eggs. “I can, I can feed myself, Eskel, you don’t have to—thank you, truly.” He felt a bit awkward but Eskel settled back into his chair, still grinning, so Jaskier managed to push the worries out of his head for the moment. He finished loading his plate with fresh fruit, sausages, and what looked like a couple more of those jam and cheese pastries he’d had the day before. 

With a sidelong look at Eskel—checking to make sure the man was alright with Jaskier’s selections—he finally tucked in, shoving bite after bite into his mouth. Eskel seemed content to let Jaskier eat, leaning back in his own chair and alternating between looking out over the assembled crowd and back to Jaskier. 

Once his plate was nearly empty Jaskier slowed, scraping the last of his eggs up with a fork and sticking them into his mouth. He leaned back and when he looked to Eskel he caught the other man staring at him once again. 

Eskel chuckled and offered Jaskier a grin and shrug in lieu of apology. “You finished?” Jaskier nodded. “Alright. I’d hoped to talk with you at some point today; you’re free to do as you please, of course, but I had a few things I thought you could be of help with, given where you came from.” 

Jaskier frowned at him, not understanding. “Where I came from? What do you mean?” The sluggishness in his limbs from the sheer amount of food he’d eaten was the only thing keeping him from bolting upright, but he still managed to feel a spike of anxiety as he tried to read Eskel’s expression. 

Eskel either noticed Jaskier’s sudden worry or just knew to expect it at this point and shook his head, bringing his hands up in a ‘whoa’ gesture. “Nothing like what you’re thinking, I’m sure, it's my fault for being vague. You were….you lived in the Redanian castle, am I wrong?” 

Jaskier nodded, still frowning. 

Eskel continued. “Geralt and I only mentioned it yesterday for a moment but we have Redanian ambassadors arriving in about a month and we’d be in your debt if you’d give us some insights. The king’s advisors—” Jaskier caught the slight roll of his eyes and had to hide a smile as he looked at Eskel, “Make sure that all of the outward-facing details are taken care of, but I’d hoped you might know more about what Redania is actually after, in terms of treaties.” 

With a frown Eskel caught Jaskier’s eyes. “You’d be giving us information we have no other way of knowing, Jaskier, so if you don’t want to, you’re absolutely not required to. I don’t—you’re within your rights to feel loyalty to Redania and we won’t be angry if you decide not to tell us anything.” 

Jaskier shook his head, meeting Eskel’s eyes. “Absolutely not, not a chance in hell.” 

He watched as Eskel’s face fell, his eyebrows drawing together. Eskel nodded at him. “Yes, of course, if that’s your decision—” 

He didn’t get much further before Jaskier nearly jumped up as he rushed to correct the other man. “No! I mean, uh, I’m not—I don’t give a shit about Redania, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.” Jaskier offered a shrug. “They’re—I’ve been here two days and I already know that you all do a much better job running a country than they ever have; you wouldn’t ask unless you thought it was a good idea.” 

Eskel’s face cleared and he broke out into a radiant smile, the change so drastic that Jaskier couldn’t look away. The man truly was beautiful and it was all Jaskier could do not to reach for him. 

“Oh, well then. I’m glad that you—that you’d want to help me. Us. Help us with that.” Eskel stumbled over his words, still grinning. “There are some specific questions that we’d—Geralt and I—had thought of to ask you, but I know that you’ll probably have plenty more information than just what we were able to come up with. I—if you wanted, I mean, it would probably be helpful for you to look at the records from the last few times we hosted ambassadors, see what you think. But only if you want to—I know we’re asking a lot, and if there’s anything you’d rather be doing, don’t—I’d understand if you’d rather just spend an hour or two instead of however long it might take for us to ask all our questions.” 

He was rambling, making some sense and some not, and Jaskier felt himself smiling back at the man. “I can help with whatever you need, I don’t know if I have all that much to add but if you think I do, I’ll do what I can.” He nibbled on his lower lip. “When did you—?” 

“Oh, um, well I’ve got all the papers in my office, if you wanted to look at them now, although I’m sure we’ll have to find somewhere else to look at them considering, well,” Eskel cut off as Jaskier started chuckling at him, not bothering to hide his laughter. “Oh don’t you start with that, I’m well aware that my office is unusable, it just so happens that that’s the only way I’m able to keep everything straight.” 

Jaskier kept giggling for another moment but eventually calmed himself. “Lead the way, then.” He stood from his chair and Eskel followed suit, pushing in both chairs before stepping away from the table. 

Eskel led him to the same door that led out into a back corridor they’d used the night before and then towards his office. Jaskier followed, taking note of the twists and turns they took as they walked. The route seemed at least a little familiar which Jaskier was glad to note, hoping he’d learn his way around sooner than later. 

The trip to Eskel’s office went without incident this time, for which Jaskier was grateful. When Eskel opened the heavy door, he turned to Jaskier before entering. “I’ll grab the information and we can find somewhere quiet to look it over, if that works for you?” Jaskier nodded and Eskel slipped into the cluttered office without another word. It was only a few minutes before he reemerged, a thick packet of papers in hand. 

Eskel closed his office and relocked it, turning to Jaskier with a grin. “Alright, got everything. I’ve been trying to think of somewhere we could go to talk that’s not, uh, quite as messy as my office. Are you alright if we talk in Geralt’s study? He’ll be a while with training so we should have use of it as long as we need, plus that way if we do light on anything important we’ll be able to let him know when he returns.” 

Jaskier chewed on his bottom lip. He wasn’t really sure about using the king’s personal office without asking but he didn’t know the palace well enough to be able to suggest anywhere else, so he shrugged and nodded at Eskel. With a smile, Eskel nodded and turned, heading towards what Jaskier could only assume was the direction of Geralt’s office and trusting Jaskier to follow. 

The trip was shorter than the walk from the hall the day before, the two men’s offices closer to each other than to the rest of the palace (at least as far as Jaskier could see). When they arrived at the door to the king’s study Eskel pulled it open and waved Jaskier in first. The study looked much the same as it had the night before, only now it was warmly lit by light streaming through a window. 

Eskel took a seat behind the desk and dropped the stack of papers onto the center of the desk, beckoning Jaskier to join him. When Jaskier took a seat opposite him, Eskel frowned. “Do you want to come around to this side? It’ll be easier if we can both read these at the same time.” 

Unsure whether he really wanted to sit behind the king’s desk, Jaskier hesitated a moment before nodding and standing up once more. He dragged one of the chairs around the desk so he could sit side by side with Eskel, looking down at the papers. Eskel shuffled them around and then plucked one out from the pile, smoothing it out over the desk and pushing the rest to the side. 

“Alright.” He pointed to the paper. “I made a quick list of all of the things we’d thought you might know, so I wouldn’t forget any of them. Are you alright just going down the list?” 

Jaskier nodded, giving the paper a glance but not bothering to read it in full. Eskel smiled at him before looking down at his paper. 

“Alright, well I guess first up is mostly just expectation setting and the like. We’ve had ambassadors from most of the countries in the continent so far, but the negotiations always seem off, like they have no idea what is happening, which has been strange because we’ve been trying to keep to what Geralt’s advisors say to do.” Eskel looked to Jaskier, eyes imploring. “Would you mind going over what you remember when ambassadors would come to Redania? I understand that you might not have been party to everything that went on, but—” 

Jaskier shook his head, cutting Eskel off. “I know plenty, I was a pleasure slave of the king. There are all sorts of things that we heard that nobody thought to keep from us.” 

Eskel frowned. “Why not? Seems to me like sex would be the best time to get information out of tightlipped nobles, you’d think the king would have tried to use your position for his own gain at the very least.” 

Jaskier grinned widely at him. “And that’s how I always saw it as well, but the king didn’t seem particularly interested in the idea. I wasn’t about to suggest it, of course, but I did find it odd that we were privy to so much supposedly secret information.” He smirked. “We did, of course, talk amongst ourselves since there wasn’t much else to do while we weren’t, uhm, performing, so even when I wasn’t the one who overheard something salacious, I heard about it secondhand.” 

Eskel smirked as well, shaking his head. “Well, that’s some damn fine information right there. The next time we travel to do more peacemaking and gladhanding maybe we won’t refuse the offer of pleasure slaves outright and instead ask them to tell us the court gossip.” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open. “You refused the offers of the king’s pleasure slaves?” 

Taken aback, Eskel looked at him in confusion. “Well of course. Slavery is an affront to common decency and none of us would ever bed someone who didn’t want to be with us; we can smell fear—it tends to put a damper on any arousal one might have.” He frowned. “I’d have thought you’d be happy about that, considering your previous position.” 

Jaskier shook his head, his mouth tight. “No, it's—if you’re offered the use of pleasure slaves you absolutely must agree.” He held up a hand as Eskel’s frown deepened. “I’m not saying you have to fuck them, but you can’t just refuse to be with them. It’s an honor to be offered such from a king, and turning it down would be seen as an offense, a snub at the king’s offerings of peace. Next time you are offered, you agree immediately, you choose one or two of them, and you insist on a room where nobody can watch you.” 

“What? What do you mean, watch?” Eskel choked, and he got a wry grin from Jaskier in response.

“I mean watch. I used a room with a peephole more than once so that the king’s men could ensure that my services were satisfactory, and that the visitors got what they were promised. It wasn’t all that often, but more frequent when it was visitors or traveling nobility.” 

Eskel was frowning harder now, and he shook his head. “That’s horrid. I can’t believe they’d watch you like that, it’s bad enough what they were making you do, but I can’t—” He paused. “I’m sorry that you went through that, Jaskier, and I can only hope that you don’t ever have to again.” 

The words were sincere and Jaskier was touched that Eskel really seemed to be upset at what he’d been through. He put a hand on Eskel’s shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “I appreciate that, and I hope for the same. But for now, it is what it is and I’m just glad to be of some help to you on this front.” 

Eskel grunted, nodding back at him. “Well, that’s something we need to keep in mind, then. Don’t say no to the offer of pleasure slaves, and we can also try to get information from them, if they’re willing.” 

Jaskier nodded and removed his hand from Eskel’s shoulder. “Yes. And if you’re supposed to be fucking them and instead just want to talk, I can guarantee that most if not all will be grateful for the break and will tell you whatever you want to know.” He smiled back at Eskel. “If you wash their hair with those hands of yours, they’ll try to follow you home.” 

He wasn’t sure why he said it, the words just stumbled out of his mouth without his meaning to, and Jaskier was treated to the sight of Eskel turning slightly pink and looking away, his expression embarrassed. He cleared his throat, reaching up to scrub a palm over the scars on his face. “Right, well. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Chapter Text

Instead of looking at him, Eskel reached for the handle of a drawer on the other side of the desk, pulling out a fresh piece of parchment and quill and ink. He uncapped the ink and quickly scrawled out the note about not rejecting the offer of pleasure slaves. Once the words were on the page he recapped the ink and blew on the paper to dry it. Looking back up at Jaskier, he grinned. 

“Right then, that’s one thing we should know. I’m sure it won’t be the last. Do you want to go over how you’ve seen ambassadors treated in Redania?” 

Jaskier nodded. “Sure. Do you want a specific instance, or a more general timeline?” 

Eskel shrugged. “Whatever you think might be more helpful; I trust your judgment here.” 

It was still a shock for Jaskier to hear that, but he cleared his throat and nodded, looking down at his hands in front of him on the desk. “Right, well. Um, usually when there were visiting dignitaries, there would be a feast the day they arrived, to celebrate the two nations taking part in talks. It wasn’t always as festive as say, the midsummer or yule feasts, but it was a sight better than the average fair in the palace, and that’s saying something.” 

Eskel was frowning and he nodded, encouraging Jaskier to go on. Jaskier thought to himself for a moment before continuing. “And then, I guess, they’d be treated to all the usual flatteries; things like use of pleasure slaves, which we’ve already mentioned, but also things such as the singing of songs from their native country instead of traditional Redanian songs, a few days of rest before the beginning of negotiations so they have the time to fully take part in all of the goods on offer, and one or two servants at their beck and call while they’re there.” 

Jaskier stopped talking as he saw Eskel’s frown had deepened and he looked at the man in askance. “What is it?” 

Eskel drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Just not really anything I’d considered before. We know to have a feast in their honor when they arrive, it’s usually quite the affair, but we usually start negotiations the day after they arrive, since it seems foolish to wait when they’ve traveled all the way here already.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “You should wait, give them some time to settle in. If you appear too much like you’re only interested in dealing with them on the business they came to attend to, it can be seen as rude.” Another thought occurred to him and he looked Eskel in the eyes. “When you have the feast in their honor, where do you sit them?” 

Eskel shrugged, seeming confused by the question. “We usually set up an extra table in the hall, so that they’re able to sit together, why?” 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Jaskier shook his head again. “And let me guess, you still have all of the castle staff eating dinner at the same time?” Eskel nodded, his eyebrows drawing together further. Jaskier resisted the urge to groan aloud. “Eskel, you can’t just seat them on par with palace staff , that’s the equivalent of telling them that they’re nothing more than lowly messengers and that you don’t acknowledge their ranks in the nobility. You absolutely must seat them either at the high table with the rest of you or at one of the tables closest to the high table, and absolutely no staff can be at supper. I understand that you all don’t stand on ceremony, but it is an insult and will be taken as such. The staff can eat at a separate time or in a different location for a week, I promise that it will be worth the effort in order to stay in the ambassadors’ good graces.” 

Eskel was still frowning but he nodded slowly. He picked up the quill and wrote himself a few more notes on his parchment, his tongue sticking out from between his lips as he wrote, his face screwed up in thought. 

Once Eskel had finished his notes, he looked back up to Jaskier. “Alright, well clearly you’re leagues ahead of me or anyone else here; I get the feeling you might just be worth your weight in gold for the help you’re going to be.” He flushed again, looking away quickly. “I mean, if you end up staying, of course, I know you said you wanted to leave but I—I’d be grateful if you would stay at least until the Redanian dignitaries have left, so as to keep us from sticking our feet in it any more than we have already.” 

Jaskier considered the request, cocking his head and looking at Eskel. The man seemed earnest and his eyes were wide, waiting for Jaskier’s response. Unwilling to disappoint (plus, excited to actually be of some help to the palace and its people) Jaskier nodded finally, humming his agreement. “I can stay until then.” 

Eskel’s smile was beatific and he reached for Jaskier’s hand, squeezing it warmly. “Thank you. I appreciate knowing that you’ll be around, in case we make any other mistakes.” He squeezed again and let Jaskier’s hand go, leaning back. Jaskier smiled back at him in response. 

“Yes, well, I’m sure that you all will make plenty of blunders. Now, where was I?” Jaskier tapped out a beat on the arm of his chair, thinking a moment before continuing. “Right, once you’ve given them a few days to settle in, the actual talks begin. I’m assuming you have transcripts of some previous ones there, yes?” He gestured to Eskel’s stack of papers and the witcher nodded. “Good, we can go over those in a bit, I’m sure the advisors have given you the correct language to use but sometimes there’s a finesse that can be lacking if you aren’t familiar with the flow of it.” 

Eskel frowned and nodded. “I’m sure we’re lacking at that, then, considering Geralt’s way with words, or lack thereof.” Jaskier, who’d not missed the king’s taciturn nature, chuckled. 

“Right, well he doesn’t necessarily need to be the one leading the negotiations, he just has to be in the room. If he deputizes someone else, usually a trusted advisor or someone who has knowledge of the affairs being discussed, there won’t be any bruised ego since quite often the king isn’t as aware of the matters at hand as those that take care of the specific issues.” 

Eskel leaned forward, eyes wide. “Geralt doesn’t have to be the one negotiating? The advisors have always insisted on it before, they said he would offend otherwise. If we could have someone else do it, that would help immensely.” 

Jaskier nodded and then shrugged. “Well, he still needs to be present, of course, and the person taking his place would also have to be someone who is actually in charge or knowledgeable about what they’re speaking on. If, say, the discussion was about the trade rates of the price of grain between the two countries, he’d be perfectly within his rights to appoint an agricultural head in order to do the negotiation for him, since that advisor would likely know more than he did about the minutiae. But if he were to appoint that same agricultural head for a discussion on prisoner extradition, there would probably be some offense taken at the lack of a knowledgeable partner with which to conduct business.” 

Eskel nodded. “That makes sense to me. I’m sure we have specialists in the areas that will be negotiated, I’ll look into it and see if I can’t figure out a few people who would be able to take part in the discussions and not offend too badly. I’m sure the dignitaries would appreciate having people to discuss the topics with that are at least somewhat skilled in the art of speech.” He smirked at Jaskier, who couldn’t keep the grin off his face entirely. 

“I would agree that they’d probably be willing to compromise on that front, yes.” Jaskier waited while Eskel wrote down some more info, scribbling as fast as his hand would allow. When he finished, he looked back up to Jaskier. Jaskier continued. “Regarding the negotiations specifically, the usual practice is to set up a schedule where one topic will be discussed every day, regardless of how long it takes. If you finish early for the day, you offer them the use of a royal bathhouse or something, but you don’t insist on moving on. Usually they’ll have specific plans drawn up for each topic, and it’s considered polite to let them go over their plans the night or the morning before negotiations so they’re refreshed with their own goals.” 

Eskel kept writing, his hand flying across the paper. Once he stilled, he looked up at Jaskier with a wry grin. “Seems we’ve been quite rude without even meaning to be, I guess. Hopefully this time we’ll be able to get some of it right, at least, with your help.” 

Jaskier felt himself flushing and turned his head to look away. “Right, well, one can only hope. Alright, so, negotiations go on, things happen, yadda yadda. After they’re wrapped up and all parties have agreed on a solution that’s satisfactory, you generally give them a few days to gather themselves and prepare for the return trip home, so they’re not feeling rushed out.” He shrugged at Eskel. “It’s also the time where you’d be expected to offer such things as pleasure slaves for their use, but since you don’t have any you’ll have to forgo the offer. It’s sure to offend somewhat, but considering the fact that the king has outlawed the practice and has no pleasure slaves of his own, they are likely to take it as less of an affront as they would otherwise.” 

Eskel frowned again, dropping his quill onto the paper. “I can’t believe they’d have the gall to be offended that we outlawed slavery, it’s a horrid practice and they should be apologizing to us for still allowing it in their countries.” 

Jaskier didn’t flinch at the word ‘horrid’ but it was a near thing. Instead, he looked Eskel in the eyes. “About that, actually, how have the other countries, especially those that share land borders with Rivia, taken the outlawing of the practice? I can’t imagine it’s gone well, since making Rivia a safe haven for runaway slaves is sure to cause some issues, especially for those towns near the edges of the country.” 

Eskel scowled. “It’s been shit, that’s how it’s gone. Most of the ambassadors are enraged about it, and they insist that they be allowed to bring their own slaves into the country without penalty.” His hand curled into a fist against his leg and he took a deep breath. “Geralt refuses most of those requests, but we’re starting to worry that if we keep refusing, they’ll refuse to even trade with Rivia at all. It would be terrible for us to have them here, though..” He met Jaskier’s eyes and his expression softened. “The slaves themselves are more than welcome, but dealing with the way they’re treated, it’s hard for all of us to watch and say nothing. Witchers have a rather robust sense of parity and whipping someone for dropping a plate isn’t just, nor will it ever be.” 

Jaskier placed a hand over Eskel’s clenched fist, rubbing his thumb over the skin there. “It’s not fair, but you’re doing your best and you’re trying to make sure that you get the best possible outcomes for all people, not just one or two slaves.” Eskel nodded and unclenched his hand, looking away. 

“I know, which is why we may end up allowing it, but it’s just hard.” He grimaced. “Truthfully, we end up giving up most of our positions in the negotiations just to get them to stop hounding us about the slavery prohibition, since it seems to be a rather firm sticking point for most other countries.” 

Jaskier frowned. “Well that’s not good, you don’t want to be fending off attacks about that when trying to discuss other matters. Maybe we can work something out where they’ll be mollified enough to let it alone without us really giving anything up.” He bit his lip, lost in thought, and when Eskel chuckled to himself Jaskier looked up, trying to see what had made him laugh. 

Eskel shook his head, still grinning. "It's nothing, just— us . We. You’re already talking like you’re a Rivian, Jaskier.” 

Jaskier frowned, realizing that Eskel was right. He hadn’t even noticed, although he’d already started thinking of ways to make the negotiations go more smoothly in his head, in order to help the king of Rivia make sure he got the best outcome for his people. Maybe he was starting to think of himself as a Rivian. 

Before he could answer, however, the door banged open and both men turned with a start to see who it was. The king stood silhouetted in the doorway, and Jaskier could do nothing but stare at him for long moments. The man was sweaty and shirtless, his chest and arms bulging with thick, roped muscle. His hair was hung loose over his shoulders, sticking to his skin and making him look like a god pulled down to earth. 

To his side, Jaskier heard a gasp and he realized that he wasn’t the only one who had noticed how the king looked. When he turned, Eskel’s focus was squarely on the king, his pupils wide as he looked at the other man. 

The king, for his part, just hummed as he saw the two of them sitting there. He stepped into the room and closed the door and Jaskier noted that he held a piece of fabric in his hands, probably his missing shirt. He watched the man lift the shirt up and wipe it over his face before trailing it down his naked chest to soak up the moisture lingering there. Jaskier was helpless to follow the movement of the fabric over his skin and when the king walked closer he could do nothing but watch. 

The king walked around the desk on the side Eskel was sitting on, leaning close to the man as he reached for something. His chest brushed Eskel’s hair as he picked up a waterskin that’d been left there and took a long drink from it; Jaskier watched Eskel’s expression go equal parts hungry and smug. 

“Geralt?” Eskel asked. The king hummed, not bothering to stop drinking his water. “What are you doing here?” 

The man finally lowered the waterskin, using the shirt in his hands to wipe off a drip that had escaped his lips. “Forgot this.” He hefted the waterskin, looking down at Eskel with a smug smile on his face. “Why?”

Chapter Text

Eskel’s mouth moved but no words came out. Jaskier, watching the two of them, knew when he was in the middle of something he probably shouldn’t be. He cleared his throat and then stood, pushing his chair out from the desk. Both men turned to him as one, the motion and noise startling them out of their focus on each other. 

“I um,” Jaskier gestured out of the window, where the sun had reached its peak in the sky. “It’s probably lunchtime, yeah? I’m—I might just, go, um, eat lunch, yes.” He looked at Eskel, whose expression was still somewhat dazed. “Come find me after, there’s more things we have to discuss with this, gods know what else you people have managed to fuck up without knowing it.” He offered a smile to temper the admonishment and Eskel smiled back, more mimicking him than out of any real awareness of what Jaskier had said. Jaskier looked between the two men once more, where the king’s hand had landed on the back of Eskel’s chair as he leaned over the desk, and gave them both a tight nod. “Right, yes, well, I’m off.” 

Jaskier exited the room quickly, making sure to close the door all the way before turning to press his ear against the wood, listening to what was happening inside the office. He heard very little for a few moments and almost left, assuming that the door was too thick for him to be able to hear anything. 

“ Fuck ,” That sounded like Eskel. Jaskier breathed in deep and held it, trying not to make any noise so he could hear better. “Geralt, you look—” 

He cut off and there was a low growl, probably the king, and the sound of two rather large muscular men moving around. Jaskier heard a grunt and then a groan. “Hmmm.” That was the king for sure, his hum so low Jaskier almost missed it. “Be quiet Kell, don’t want anyone to hear us.” 

Eskel moaned again, brokenly, and Jaskier noted with some surprise that he was hard again, listening to them through the door. He didn’t reach down to cup himself, though, just kept his ear pressed against the door. 

When Eskel spoke again, he was panting, the worse coming with considerably more effort. “Mmm, fuck Geralt, you can’t—you should know better than to tease, fuck, fuck —” 

As he listened to Eskel’s voice get louder and then break off as (presumably) the king did something Eskel liked, Jaskier felt his face grow hot. They were two consenting men and what they did in their own time didn’t concern him, of course, but he found himself not quite ready to leave. The image the king had presented on his own was breathtaking—something even Jaskier could admit—and well, whatever he was doing to Eskel seemed to be driving the other man mad by the sounds Jaskier could hear through the door. 

Jaskier listened as the noises Eskel made continued until he was somewhat worried that the entire castle would be able to hear them. Thankfully there was nobody in the hallway to either see Jaskier listening at the door or hear the noises coming from inside the room. 

Eskel was gasping and moaning steadily now; whatever the king was doing to him seemed to be working well even though Jaskier had stopped hearing any noises from the king at all. Eskel cried out and it was a broken, needy noise. 

“Ge—fuck, Geralt, I need—I need you, fuck, please, please—” Eskel wasn’t above begging, apparently, and Jaskier heard more shifting around inside the room before the king growled again. 

“Hmm, need this?” He asked. Eskel just babbled incoherently at him. “Yeah, alright Kell, c’mon, like—yeah, fuck, just like that.” He sounded hungry for Eskel—the man seemed to be just as affected by Eskel as Eskel was by him—and Jaskier heard him groan again as he (presumably) did something that the both of them enjoyed. 

There were no more words after that, just an increasingly loud crescendo of moans, gasps, and grunts accompanied by a rhythmic banging that sounded like the whole fucking desk was being moved across the floor one inch at a time. Although, Jaskier noted, with witcher strength it was possible that that’s exactly what was happening. 

It didn’t take the two men long to find release, although Jaskier had to admit to being impressed with both of their stamina. First Eskel and then the king grunted out their climaxes, quieting down in the aftermath of the rather exuberant fucking. 

“What were you doing in here, anyway?” The king asked, sounding fucked out, and Jaskier heard Eskel chuckle. 

“Working on—ahh—stuff with Jaskier.” It was a shock to hear his own name tossed around so casually and Jaskier’s heart picked up. Eskel didn’t stop speaking. “He has a lot to say about everything we’ve been doing wrong, hosting other countries and other things with trade negotiations. I think he might actually help us get a leg up, since he seems to know his stuff.” 

The king grunted. “Hmm, strange. Why would he have been privy to things like how trade deals and the like are negotiated? It’s not like he was in the meetings.” 

Eskel was the one to hum that time, not dismissing the idea. “Eh, for all we know he might have been. You heard him the other night, he was part of a fucking peace trade, I think that’d give him some information about how things work.” His voice turned harsh. “I still can’t believe that trading people is so normal for so much of the continent. For all that humanity likes to think of themselves as cultured, there sure is a lot of barbarity that still goes on.” 

At that, Jaskier realized where he was and he jumped. The two men seemed to be more or less finished fucking and would eventually leave the room, and he pulled himself away from the door in a hurry. With only a little guesswork Jaskier managed to find his way back to Eskel’s office from the king’s, and from there he wandered in the direction of the great hall, where lunch was probably being served. 

He wasn’t actually hungry since he’d eaten breakfast so late but since he’d said that’s where he was going it would probably be a good idea to make himself visible, if Eskel wanted to come find him once he’d cleaned up. 

The great hall seemed more full than at either breakfast or dinner and Jaskier remembered Eskel saying that lunch tended to be their most attended meal (not nearly as formal as any meal Jaskier had ever seen in any other palace, but for this one it did seem a little more structured). When he entered the hall, he looked around a little, wondering where he’d be able to find a place to sit. Since both Eskel and the king—the two people who had offered him a seat before—were both absent from the lunch proceedings, Jaskier wasn’t sure if he’d be able to just approach a random table and ask to sit with them. 

Before he could get too in his own head about it, Jaskier felt an arm wrap around his shoulders and he jumped. When he turned around to see who’d grabbed him he realized it was Lambert, who was grinning down at him. Actually grinning this time, not snarling, although that wasn’t much comfort and Jaskier felt his heart leap into his throat—both at the man’s nearness to his own person and the less than ideal way they’d left things the last time Jaskier had talked to him. 

“Let go of him, you idiot.” Strong hands pried Lambert’s arm off of Jaskier’s shoulders and Jaskier turned further to find Aiden standing next to Lambert and scowling at his boyfriend. He smoothly inserted his own body between Jaskier and Lambert, for which Jaskier was immediately grateful. “You really think it’s a good idea to just grab people?” Aiden had his hands on his hips and Lambert rolled his eyes, looking away. 

“Hey, if you’re going to insist on being friends with him I thought I’d be friendly.” Lambert’s hands rose up in his defense, his eyebrows furrowed. “Didn’t think you’d have such a problem with it.” 

Aiden just sighed and turned back to Jaskier, who’d watched the interaction tensely. “Sorry about him, he’s usually better than this, I promise.” He looked away and then shrugged. “Well, no, actually he’s not, but he isn’t always trying to be an ass, at least.” From behind him Lambert scoffed and crossed his arms. Aiden gave Jaskier a tired smile. “What I was planning to ask before my boyfriend decided to grab you was if you wanted to sit with us for lunch? If you weren’t planning on sitting anywhere else.” 

Jaskier nodded, not thrilled about sitting with Lambert but glad to have found a place to sit at least. He let Aiden lead him back up to the head table and sit him down next to Aiden, with Lambert on Aiden’s other side. Jaskier didn’t have to be directly next to Lambert, which seemed like a good idea all around. 

Instead of starting to eat right away, however, Aiden looked at Jaskier with a frown. “You’re still wearing those? I thought you were getting your own at some point.” He nodded to Jaskier’s clothes, which were really Aiden’s clothes. 

From Aiden’s other side, Lambert groaned and nodded. “Gods, yes, please get some new clothes. You’re throwing me off just sitting there and smelling like him, although it is a little better today at least.” The last part was grumbled into his mug as he took a gulp of ale. 

Aiden turned to glare at him before looking back to Jaskier. “He’s rude, but he’s also not wrong. I don’t care about it, but it’ll probably send the wrong kind of message if you keep smelling so much like me.” 

Jaskier frowned. “The clothes were clean though, how exactly do they smell like you? I couldn’t smell anything but soap.” 

Aiden and Lambert looked at each other and then back to Jaskier, both frowning. Aiden was the one to speak. “How much do you, uhm, know about us, Jaskier?” His words were layered with meaning and it took Jaskier a moment to realize what he was asking. His eyes widened and he nodded at Aiden. 

“They told me, uh, yeah, some stuff.” Jaskier dragged his eyes up and down Aiden’s frame—so clearly packed with muscle that even though he was roughly Jaskier’s size Jaskier couldn’t have had a hope of besting him in anything athletic. “But not all of it, I didn’t get any specifics on….everything.” He didn’t want to risk saying it aloud and having someone overhear it who shouldn’t have. 

As he thought about it Jaskier followed that tangent in his own mind. If he were to try to say it aloud, believing he was alone, but instead someone would have heard him, would that activate the spell so he’d be unable to speak? He decided to ask Eskel (or, more likely, the mage who’d woven the spell in the first place, although she didn’t seem like she’d be interested in speaking with him) about it the next time he saw the man. 

When Aiden spoke again Jaskier jumped, having forgotten he was in the middle of a conversation. “Right, yes, that.” he nodded at Jaskier, who looked back at him guiltily. “Well, when you’re—when you’re what we are, all of your senses are heightened.” Aiden grimaced. “Sometimes to a rather annoying degree, truly; you do not want to know what a used chamber pot smells like in detail.” Jaskier winced, nodding. “But we can also tell things like who has spent time with who based on how their natural scents rub off on each other.” 

From his other side Lambert chuckled and Aiden rolled his eyes but grinned at him at the same time. “Yes, yes, we can also tell who is sleeping with who based on smell alone, very funny Lambert.” Lambert didn’t stop chuckling and Aiden’s expression grew fond as he looked at his boyfriend. The look he sported seemed like a private thing and Jaskier felt suddenly rude for seeing it. He looked away, out towards the hall, and when Aiden finally cleared his throat and spoke once more he turned back to find that the man had composed himself. 

“You being, well, as basically covered with my scent as you are means that you smell like either we’ve spent many hours together over the past few weeks, which we haven’t, or—” 

Jaskier cut him off. “Like we had a roll in the hay. Or both, I suppose. Right, that makes sense.” He nodded. “I see how that could be disconcerting. I think Eskel said he wanted to talk with the palace tailor yesterday but I’m not sure if he got around to it, a lot of things happened.” Lambert grunted in agreement with the statement and Jaskier fought a blush. 

Aiden didn’t seem all that concerned with Jaskier’s reasons for being embarrassed, though, and continued on. “Well I wouldn’t mind taking you down to see her, if you’re free after lunch. It’ll probably take her a few days to get you some clothes anyway so it’s best to get a move on, but I could loan you some more if you need them in the meantime.” 

Jaskier nodded, grateful to the man for the offer, and they all dug into their lunch, the conversation pausing as they ate. Jaskier noted that Eskel and Geralt didn’t make an appearance in the hall during the time they were eating, but their absence didn’t seem to matter all that much—everyone else ate and conversed and went on with their business as usual. Jaskier didn’t comment on their absence and to his relief, neither Aiden nor Lambert seemed to feel like mentioning it either. 

Once they finished eating Lambert stood and stretched, showcasing his truly impressive midriff as his shirt rode up. Jaskier caught Aiden staring and grinned to himself. It seemed that witchers, whatever else they had going on with the changes to their bodies, at least had a healthy ( more than healthy) sex drive. Jaskier was glad that the ones he’d met so far all seemed happy to be paired off, if Lambert’s return smile at Aiden was anything to go by. 

Had he been more concerned with his own position within the palace as only somewhat ex-pleasure slave (at least, that’s how Jaskier felt—the reality of the situation still hadn’t really sunk in, he was sure) Jaskier might have worried at the seemingly super-strong, hyper-sexual men that happened to reside nearby, but given Eskel’s (and everyone else’s) visceral disgust at the idea of fucking someone uninterested in the act, he felt better about it than he’d have expected.

Chapter Text

Aiden stood from the table as well, looking down at him. “You finished?” Jaskier nodded, pushing his plate away and joining the two men as they stepped down from the table. Aiden led the way back through the hall and out the main doors, turning around every once in a while to make sure he hadn’t lost Jaskier in the crowds. Jaskier managed to stay close and followed the man out of the hall and down another side corridor. It was only a few minutes until Aiden stopped in front of a door and pulled it open. 

Lambert pushed past Jaskier, walking inside first, and Jaskier shared a look with Aiden before following. Inside the room was a vast array of various fabrics, half-dressed mannequins, and heaps of clothing piled on every available surface. A lot of the fabric was dark, boring colors, but Jaskier spotted the occasional bright pattern and sunny style peeking out from piles of black and dark gray. 

“Hmm? Who’s there?” The voice rang out from somewhere Jaskier couldn’t see, coming from what sounded like the far corner of the room. A portly woman bustled out from behind a rack of fabrics, hands full with a half-pinned ball gown and mouth full of pins. She looked at Lambert and Aiden first and then landed eyes on Jaskier. He was treated to a full once-over and felt the weight of her stare as she took in his current clothing as well as his general appearance. 

Before any of the men could say anything, the woman turned and dumped her armload of fabric onto a nearby table, spitting the pins into a cup already half full with them and turning back towards their merry little band. “You need some proper clothes.” The not-question was addressed to Jaskier, and he flushed but nodded at her. 

“Yes, ma’am, I don’t—I’ve been borrowing Aiden’s, but I think Eskel said he was going to send a note so I’d be able to get some clothes of my own? If that’s not too much trouble, that is.” He shuffled his feet, feeling rather like a child who’d been caught sneaking cookies before dinner. Having to admit to not owning any clothing of his own was rather embarrassing, especially in front of a tailor, but at least she seemed disinterested in prying

“Of course; you do need something that actually fits you, don’t you dearie?” She plucked at the fabric of his shirt, clucking at how it billowed out around him, the chest looser than it would have been on Aiden. 

Jaskier nodded at her. “If you aren’t busy with other things, ma’am.” 

To his surprise she shook her head at him, giving his outfit a frown. “No, no; you need to be clothed, nothing else I have to do is that pressing.” With a wave of her hand, she shooed him forward, towards a large standing mirror in the center of the room. “I’m Halina, by the way. Head seamstress and tailor.” Jaskier walked over to the mirror and when she pointed at a small raised circle in front of the mirror, Jaskier stepped onto it without comment. It felt more like standing on Radovid’s stupid daises than Jaskier really liked, but he knew that arguing would only prolong the process. At least here, Halina’s gaze made him feel more like an interesting puzzle than an object of sexual desire. Jaskier decided he’d take that any day, and relaxed as she bustled around him, muttering to herself. 

When Jaskier looked up he saw Aiden and Lambert watching him in the mirror, both of them entertained by the woman’s brusque demeanor. Aiden gave Jaskier a grin when he saw him looking and Jaskier smiled back, grateful that they hadn’t just left him there. 

“Well, now, dearie, do you have any preferences for your clothes?” Halina pulled out a tape measure from somewhere and did another half-circle around Jaskier, just looking him over. “I know all our boys here,” She nodded towards Lambert and Aiden. “Have a preference for form-fitting and all black, but it needn’t be that if you don’t wish it; gods know the castle could always use a little more color.” 

Her voice was warm and as she spoke, Jaskier felt himself relaxing further, even as she reached out for his shoulder. She started measuring his torso, muttering measurements to herself, and it took Jaskier a minute to remember that he’d been asked a question. 

“Um, well, for colors I can’t say I’m against something more colorful, I don’t need black.” He squirmed and her hands tightened around his bicep, keeping him still while she measured. “And I mean, form fitting isn’t necessary either, I’m not—it’s not like I look like Lambert or Aiden or anything, I don’t have that much muscle to show off.” 

She smirked up at him and then shook her head. “Yes, well, if I didn’t know any better I’d say those boys enjoy showing off, they’re always coming in here with ripped shirts that they somehow just so happened to tear in half.” Her voice was laced with innuendo and Jaskier snorted, surprised into laughter as she wiggled her eyebrows at him. 

“I don’t think I’ll have a need for their kind of clothing, nor should I run through shirts like that.” Jaskier said. At the woman’s prodding he straightened his spine and let her measure around his waist. “Honestly, if it’s not too much trouble, I’d be grateful for something that would do, well, the opposite.” He shrugged and got a light swat for his troubles. “I don’t really have much reason to flaunt myself, so, well, I’d be fine with something that didn’t emphasize my figure.” 

Her expression was shrewd when she met his eyes again, and without warning she reached up and poked the slave mark on his neck. “Don’t think I haven’t seen your type here before. You don’t have to beat around the bush with me, dearie, I’m the one that had the task of clothing all the newly freed slaves once the king took over the throne.” She harrumphed and shook her head. “No need to explain yourself, I can make you something that will cover your assets and still look stylish and form-fitting.” 

Jaskier’s face heated up and he avoided looking at Aiden or Lambert in the mirror, although he had no doubt they’d heard the woman’s words. He didn’t respond to her, instead just watching as she worked her way around him, clucking at the measurements every once in a while. She didn’t seem that interested in forcing more conversation and Jaskier let himself drift while she worked, his mind floating around certain topics but not really focusing on any one in particular. 

“Alright, then, I think I’ve got what I need.” Her voice stirred Jaskier from his daze and he shook himself, looking down at her. She’d wrapped her tape measure around her wrist and was looking up at him evenly. “You can hop down, dearie. I’ve got a few half-finished pieces for you to look at, if you’re interested, so I’ll have a better idea of what you want in terms of cut.” 

He nodded and she led him over to a small cluster of mannequins, each wearing a different clothing. Jaskier stepped up and studied the clothes, looking over each outfit. One looked very similar to the clothes he’d seen Geralt and Eskel and Lambert wear—tight, form-fitting, but easy to maneuver in. The next was more similar to the clothes Jaskier had borrowed from Aiden—simple styles, neutral colors, and fairly unobtrusive on the whole. He let his eyes slide to the next outfit, which contrasted with the first two greatly. It was colorful, much closer to a court jester’s outfit than what one would expect a whore or an assassin to wear, but the lines were clean and Jaskier got the feeling that it would be flattering in just the way he wanted—showing off a sense of style while still covering up his physique to those who might leer. 

When he turned back to the woman she was already smiling at him, a gleam in her eyes. “So you know which you like best, then?” Jaskier nodded at her and he didn’t even get a chance to indicate which he preferred before she was striding over to the flamboyant one and tugging it off the mannequin. “Well, then, I think it’s an excellent choice, it should be quite flattering on you.” 

Before Jaskier could respond, she took hold of his wrist and tugged him across the room once more, this time stopping in front of a wide array of fabrics. She swept a hand out, indicating the patterns in front of them. “Well go ahead, pick out five or six that you like. They don’t have to match since they’ll just be the base I’m working from, I can pull accent colors once I’ve got the basic blocking done.” 

Jaskier stared back at the fabrics in front of him, unsure where to even begin. There was a sea of colors and he hesitated before running his hands over the fabrics, testing the feel of them. When Jaskier’s fingers caught on an extraordinarily soft piece of fabric that was a beautiful greenish-teal he paused, pulling the bolt out to look at it. As soon as he’d tugged on it, Halina’s hands were helping him pull it out of the stack, holding it up so he could see better. 

“Ah, this one is an excellent choice, and I think the color will do wonders for your eyes.” Jaskier didn’t even have time to respond before she was moving over to drop the bolt of fabric onto a table to the side and returning to where he stood. “Well that’s one, go on, see what else you like.” 

He looked over the fabrics once more and pulled out three more bolts of different colors—one was a thick, unyielding patterned texture, one was silky and fluid, and the last was a normal texture but had a beautiful pattern on it of deep blue with embroidered constellations. The last one made Jaskier hesitate, he knew it was probably expensive because of the intricate detail, but when his hands paused on it Halina didn’t even wait for him to pull it out, grabbing it and adding it to the pile. 

He found two more fabrics before Halina declared that she had enough to work with, and that she’d start on his clothing that day. She brushed off Jaskier’s concerns about her putting off her other clothing duties and insisted that his having something to wear that fit was important too. With a wave of her hand, she let him know that making him a wardrobe that would fit his tastes might take a few weeks or so, but she would get him some basics that he could wear in the meantime soon. 

When Jaskier finally turned back to Aiden and Lambert, his part of the fitting done, they both smiled at him encouragingly. Jaskier was a little taken aback at the fact that Lambert seemed genuinely glad the fitting had gone well, but didn’t mention the topic aloud. 

“So Jaskier, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” Aiden slipped between Jaskier and Lambert just as Lambert raised an arm up, quickly tugging Lambert’s arm around his shoulders instead of Jaskier’s. Jaskier was grateful for the deflection. 

“I’m not sure, I was going over some things with Eskel earlier and I know he wanted to continue that at some point, but I’m not sure if he’s busy right now or not.” Jaskier shrugged and followed the other two men out of the tailor’s rooms. “I suppose I could try to find something else to do, I’m not sure what there even is around here that I’d be allowed to do.” 

Aiden shrugged at him. “Not much that I can see that you wouldn’t be allowed to do, but I can see your point. Do you want me to help you try to find Eskel?” 

Jaskier considered the offer for a moment before shaking his head. “No, that’s okay. I think I know the way to his office from here and if he’s not there, I’ll find something else. Maybe I could go back to my rooms for a while, I’m sure a nap wouldn’t be amiss.” 

Aiden smirked at him. “Ah yes, naps are always a necessity.” From Aiden’s other side, Lambert snorted and shook his head. 

“You cats and your naps, sometimes I think you got more cat mutations than the rest of us did.” Aiden joined in when Lambert chuckled and Jaskier just looked at them in confusion for a moment before they noticed he hadn’t gotten the joke. 

“There are different schools of witchers.” Aiden said, casting an eye around the hallway to make sure nobody was close by as he spoke. “Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert are all from the school of the wolf, while I’m from the school of the cat.” He elbowed Lambert in the ribs. “The mutations are the same for everyone, but the different schools focus on different kinds of training and emphasis, which makes for different fighting techniques.” 

Lambert nodded, looking at Jaskier around Aiden’s head. “Wolf school is the best, obviously, and the cat school tends to pretend they’re not copying us on a lot of tactics.” 

He got a shove from Aiden that dislodged the arm around Aiden’s neck and went flying, laughing as he did. When Lambert sprang back up to his feet he launched himself at Aiden, tackling the smaller man and sending them both to the ground. The impact with the hard stone floor didn’t slow them in the slightest and Jaskier watched the two of them roll around, wrestling vigorously. 

Eventually, Aiden managed to pin Lambert by twisting himself around and tickling Lambert’s side, causing the man to let go of his legs and giving Aiden the upper hand. Once he’d pinned Lambert, both of them panting, he waited three seconds just to make sure Lambert knew he’d won before getting up. 

When the two of them looked back to Jaskier, he gave them a weak sort of smile. The wrestling had been playful and exuberant and it hurt Jaskier’s heart a little to watch it, seeing the two of them so comfortable with each other. Jaskier might still have been wary of Lambert and all of his….Lambert-ness…but he could see how clearly he cared for Aiden and Aiden cared for him. It set off a strange kind of ache in his chest, the knowledge that the two men seemed so right together. 

“You alright, Jaskier?” Aiden was frowning at him, looking concerned, and Jaskier shook himself, looking back at Aiden with a grin he didn’t feel. 

“Yeah, fine, sorry, I just got lost in my own thoughts for a minute there.” He nodded at Aiden. “But really, I’ll—I think I’m going to go try to find Eskel, yeah? I appreciate you taking me to see Halina, though, really.” He smiled more broadly at Aiden, who didn’t stop frowning but also didn’t stop him from walking away from the two of them. 

Once Jaskier was out of sight of the two witchers he sighed, running a hand over his face. He didn’t want either one of them, but somehow he felt like the tight feeling in his chest was something like jealousy. It wasn’t an emotion he was all that familiar with—Jaskier had trained himself out of wanting things at a young age—but he felt it now. He wasn’t even sure what exactly he was jealous of. 

He walked for a bit without paying much attention to where he was going, but when he looked up Jaskier noticed that he’d been idly walking in the direction he thought Eskel’s office was in, or at least, that’s where it looked like he was. Shaking himself again and trying to focus more on the layout of the palace and where he was going, Jaskier set out once more, walking in what he hoped was the right direction. 

His hunch turned out to be correct and Jaskier found himself walking down the hallway that led to Eskel’s office after only another few minutes. He quickened his pace, unsure whether he really wanted to find Eskel there or not—Jaskier wasn’t sure he’d be able to look the man in the eyes after eavesdropping on his tryst with the king. But Jaskier was actually interested in helping them prepare to host guests and he strengthened his resolve, determinedly pushing his own thoughts about Eskel and the king to the back of his mind. 

When Jaskier arrived at Eskel’s door, he hesitated before knocking. Eventually he rapped his hands on the hard wooden door, holding his breath and hoping he wasn’t disturbing anything important (or sexual). 

There came a movement from inside the office and then Eskel pulled the door open, his eyes widening as he saw Jaskier there before he broke out into a grin. 

“Jaskier! Ah, I’m glad you came to find me, I had hoped we’d be able to talk more about everything we were discussing earlier.” Jaskier couldn’t help but notice that Eskel’s hair was slightly damp, like he’d bathed recently, and there was a fading mark peeking out from the collar of his neckline. Trying not to stare, Jaskier entered the room when Eskel waved him in. “Ah, right, I think—” Eskel stopped where he’d been walking back around the desk and closed his eyes, rubbing a palm at his forehead. “Ah, shit. I think I left all of the papers in—in Geralt’s office, now that I’m thinking about it. We—we got distracted, ended up talking for a while and I think in the rush to get lunch before it was over I didn’t remember to grab the papers and bring them back here.” 

Jaskier tried his best not to flush at the memory of just how Eskel and Geralt had become distracted, and stood there waiting for Eskel to decide what to do. After a few moments of Eskel standing there, looking lost in thought, the witcher finally sighed and shrugged. “I guess we should go get them, then, if you don’t mind a walk.” He gestured to the cluttered office around them. “Not that we’d be able to go over them in here anyway, I guess.” 

Jaskier nodded and let Eskel lead him back out of the office and into the hall. The walk to the king’s office was a quick one and Jaskier found that he’d more or less gotten the gist of how to get there from Eskel’s office. 

Arriving at the king’s study door, Eskel hesitated for a moment before putting a hand on the knob. Jaskier wasn’t sure if he’d intended to knock or not but Eskel seemed to make up his mind and he instead pushed the door inwards. 

Inside the room Jaskier could see that the king sat at the large desk, bent over a book he’d propped open on the desktop. He looked up when Eskel swung the door open, the corners of his eyes softening as he saw who it was. When Eskel stepped inside, Jaskier hovered awkwardly around the doorway, not wanting to intrude on whatever silent communication was happening between the two men. 

When Eskel approached the desk, the king sat back in his chair, watching him. It didn’t take Eskel long to close the distance and he stood directly next to the king, reversing their positions from earlier in the day. Instead of rubbing himself against Geralt, though, Eskel just started gathering up the papers that lay on the desk, shuffling them together in some semblance of order. Jaskier tried not to think of why the papers were thrown everywhere and lingered against the doorframe, feeling awkward. 

Eskel was quick, though, and he had the papers together and out from under the king’s book in less than a minute. He put a hand on Geralt’s shoulder and squeezed for only a second before dropping the hand and walking back towards Jaskier, who moved to let him through. Looking back into the room, Jaskier froze as he saw that the king’s eyes were fixed on him, the man’s stare piercing. Unsure why the king was looking at him like that, Jaskier gave the man a quick nod and looked away, letting Eskel pull the door closed.

Chapter Text

Without a word Eskel headed off down the hall, trusting Jaskier to follow. Jaskier did and they walked in silence for a while longer until Eskel came to a stop in front of a set of couple doors inlaid with what looked to Jaskier like stained glass. It didn’t depict anything in particular, just a geometric design, and Jaskier trailed a finger over the panes curiously. 

“Ah, pretty, isn’t it?” Eskel grinned when he noticed Jaskier looking. “You should see it when the sun is rising—best time of the day to be in here.” He pulled open one of the heavy doors and gestured for Jaskier to enter before himself. The room was huge and Jaskier came to a stop in the doorway; Eskel nearly smacked into him before he managed to get his legs to work again and get out of the way. 

It was a library, Jaskier knew that much, but he had to wonder which of the eleven in the palace it was. He could see through the floor to ceiling windows that the sun was setting by the length of the shadows outside, casting a buttery light over everything in the room. Jaskier immediately decided that some day very soon he’d rise before the sun in order to see what a sunrise was like here, since at Eskel’s words he could only imagine it would be breathtaking. The windows that lined the walls were wide as well as tall, interspersing clear glass with sections of colored and patterned stained glass, and even with the dimming light from outside Jaskier could see that they cast beautiful shadows on the walls. 

Dotted around the room was a mix of normal enough looking bookcases and glass cases designed to display pieces of art, and Jaskier’s eyes hopped from one to the next without stopping long enough to really get a good look at any one thing. Most of the things in the glass cases were also books, but they were carefully laid out and displayed on small stands, opened to specific pages so viewers could see beautiful illustrations inside. There was a smattering of chairs and tables and some of the shelves went the full length of the room, all the way up to the second story with ladders sitting to the side for anyone that needed something from up high. 

“Jaskier? You coming?” Eskel’s voice was enough to break Jaskier out of the trance he’d fallen into and he turned, seeing Eskel already setting his papers out over a table to the side. He beckoned Jaskier forward and waved a hand towards a comfy looking armchair which Jaskier took, still looking in awe around the room. 

“What is this place?” Jaskier’s voice was hushed, not wanting to disturb the peaceful area, and Eskel chuckled to his side as he took a seat as well. 

“A library. To be specific, this is the conservation library. It’s dedicated to the conservation of rare and important materials, both of Rivia and of the continent more generally.” Eskel waved a hand around the room. “Lots of the tomes in here are actually replicas, the sun isn’t that great for older books, but there are plenty of things to see.” He pointed to one of the glass cases near the table they sat at, which housed what looked to Jaskier like a gigantic atlas, opened to a very detailed map of the country of Rivia. 

“That one is from about four hundred years ago, it’s got incredibly detailed maps of not only Rivia but all of the other countries on the continent as well. There are other illustrations as well, the authors detail lists of what animals are most common in every country and have pictures of some of them. You’d be amazed at how much country borders change in just a few hundred years, they look almost nothing like what they are now.” Jaskier looked over to the atlas, letting his eyes roam over the book as much as he was able from his seat. Esekel chuckled again and waved a hand at him. “Go, look at it, I don’t mind.” 

Jaskier leapt from his chair and scurried over to the case, pressing his face as close as he could without smudging the glass. The book was even more beautiful up close, the richness of the colors making the map look more like a tapestry than parchment. Around the edges of the map there were details and facts written in beautiful calligraphy and Jaskier sighed, drinking it in with his eyes. 

“It’s beautiful, Eskel, this is amazing. Thanks for showing this to me.” Jaskier gave the book one last wistful look and rejoined Eskel at the table, still swiveling his head around to see more of the room. 

“I’m glad that you enjoy it, Jaskier. Some of the libraries here are more crowded because they have books that people actually use, but this one is pretty far away from everything else and so it’s usually pretty quiet. I like coming here when I’ve got to get out of my office.” Eskel smiled at Jaskier. “You’re welcome to come by here at any time though; the conservationists actually work in a different part of the palace, but when they’re here you can sometimes see the pieces as they’re being put into the cases, and they’ll flip the pages for you to look at.” 

Jaskier’s mouth was watering, he was sure of it. He licked his lips and looked back at Eskel, whose smile was so wide it crinkled the corners of his eyes deeply. “That would be incredible.” Jaskier ducked his head again, looking back down at Eskel’s papers spread out across the desk. “Right, but that’s not actually what we’re here for, so, yeah. What were we talking about before?” 

Eskel sorted through the papers and came up with the one he’d been using to take notes, holding it up triumphantly. “Ah-ha! Yes, alright, let’s see.” He ran his eyes over the paper before coming to a stop somewhere in the middle with a frown. “Ah, shit. The last thing we were talking about was the problem that everyone on the continent has with us outlawing it. Maybe we could make them think that we’re softening on it.” His frown deepened. “I really don’t like even the idea of softening on it,though. I’d rather they not think that we’re ‘coming around’ on it or anything like that.” 

Jaskier frowned, thinking it over. “I can see what you mean, but I don’t really think that they’re going to listen to anything you have to say unless they believe that you’re willing to negotiate.” He tapped his foot against the floor, trying to think of something that would work and coming up empty. “I don’t know what you could offer, though, aside from, well, actually softening on it.” 

Eskel shook his head. “And we’re not willing to do that.” He sighed and pushed his paper to the side. “I guess we’ll just have to think about it, then, and hope we come up with something before next week. For the moment though, do you mind if we discuss something else?” 

Jaskier shook his head and Eskel pulled out a different piece of parchment, shuffling the papers around. “Alright, this is the list of deals and treaties we made with Redania the last time we dealt with them, and I get the feeling that this trip is intended to build on the things we gave up then. I’d really hoped that we could work with them on a few things but it was so confrontational that we ended up giving up more than we’d expected to.” He put the paper down in between the two of them so Jaskier could read it as well. 

The paper looked like a copy of an official document, signed by the dignitaries of both countries and detailing the agreements that had been worked out. Jaskier was able to skip the first third entirely, as it was all political gobbledygook, and went right to the list of compromises that they’d come to with the Redanians. 

He skimmed the first few points, trying to get a feel for what had been discussed. As he read, however, Jaskier’s eyes widened and he looked back up to Eskel after a minute. “You really agreed to all of this? These are terrible, you’re getting screwed at every turn.” 

Eskel grimaced and shrugged. “It’s not like we weren’t aware, but we couldn’t really do much better at the time. Rivia is a small country and especially after Geralt freed the slaves, it’s not all that wealthy of a place to live. We have no chance of trying to win in a battle of wills with Redania or any of the other surrounding countries, so we just did what we could to mitigate the worst of it.” 

Jaskier shook his head, looking back down to the paper. “Well I can see what you tried, but there’s absolutely no way we can’t do better than this.” He traced a finger down the list of deals (more like demands from the Redanians) and stopped at one bullet point, poking his fingernail against the parchment. “This one, here. Rivia might be a small country, but it’s well known for having some of the best artisan smiths in the continent and everyone else knows it. You agreed that Rivian smiths would provide weapons to the Redanian army here, which is a good contract except for the fact that the agreement is paying maybe a tenth of what the true price should be.” 

Eskel nodded at him, still frowning. “Yes, well, we were aware of that when we agreed to it. It was either that or give up the contract entirely, and we wanted to make sure our smiths were able to get the work if possible.” He shrugged. “I don’t see how we could really negotiate a higher price, though, if we try to argue they’ll just turn around and get their goods elsewhere.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “No, they wouldn’t be able to do that though. Aside from the fact that Rivian swords are considered the best by most of the continent and Redania absolutely doesn’t want to say that they’re using anything but the best, you’ve now got them over a barrel.” He tapped his finger against the parchment again. “This here, you’ve been supplying them with steel for how long, roughly a year and a half?” Eskel nodded. “So they’re at the point now where they’re expecting regular shipments in order to be able to replace the weapons that are broken or worn down by natural wear and tear, and if you were to, say, stop sending them weapons, their army would be at a disadvantage in terms of being prepared for war.” 

Eskel didn’t look entirely convinced and Jaskier leaned forward, holding his eyes. “If you tell them that you’ve gotten a better offer for a weapons contract from another country—you don’t say which one—then they’ll be forced to either offer you more money for the weapons that they want, or try and go somewhere else to find what they need. Sword making isn’t a quick process, and even if they decide that they never want to partner with Rivia again, it’ll be awhile before they’re able to start getting good steel to their men once more.” Jaskier watched as Eskel’s eyebrows drew together, clearly thinking over Jaskier’s words. 

“I can see how that might give us more leverage, yes, but I doubt that it would be enough to push them to accept a higher price for the weapons. We might be known for good quality weapons and armor but there are plenty of places around the continent where they’d be able to find other suppliers.” 

Jaskier grinned and shook his head again. “Ah, but there’s the rub. If you tell them that you’ve gotten a better offer from another country and insinuate that it might be someone who is looking to go to war with said weapons, it will distract them from the fact that you’re demanding more money and will also make them think that their need for the weapons is much more urgent than it is. Any country that’s suddenly ordering hundreds of well crafted swords for their armies is bound to be looking to cause trouble, and if you can offer Redania not only a chance to prepare their own armies for a potential attack but also a chance to take a resource from someone who might consider them an enemy, they’ll jump at the opportunity and thank you for the warning.” 

He sat back in his chair, arms crossed as he looked smugly at Eskel. Eskel blinked at him, eyes wide, before a smile wound it’s way around his face. “That’s devious, Jaskier, I love it.” He pulled the parchment he’d been scribbling notes on towards himself and grabbed a quill, adding something near the bottom. “That sounds like it could be great for us, getting our smiths more money for their hard work would be incredible.” 

Jaskier nodded again, waiting for Eskel to finish writing down the thought. Once he was finished he looked back up to Jaskier with a grin. “What else?” 

Pointing down at the parchment again, Jaskier launched into his next suggestion. They continued talking and debating the merits of each argument Jaskier provided on trade deals, prisoner exchanges, continued peace talks, and other important issues where Rivia had been stiffed in the past. Eskel listened intently to his opinions, acknowledging when he thought Jaskier had hit on something particularly genius and arguing when he thought something wouldn’t work. 

Despite the fact that sometimes they disagreed about what direction to go, Jaskier found himself really enjoying the debate and conversation. Eskel was quick and he caught on to what Jaskier was saying almost faster than Jaskier could finish saying it sometimes. Jaskier and Eskel came up with several points that they felt would work wonders in terms of giving Rivia and the Rivian people a leg up in the negotiations. 

After they’d been at it for some time, Jaskier looked up and realized that the sky outside was pitch black, the moon higher than he’d have expected. Eskel followed Jaskier’s gaze and winced when he saw the sky, shaking his head. 

“Shit, it’s later than I thought it was. We probably missed dinner.” Eskel scratched at his scars, looking away from Jaskier. “Sorry, I hadn’t meant to get so caught up in this, it’s just been really helpful to hear what you have to say on everything.” 

Jaskier reached for him, placing a hand over Eskel’s ink-smudged one. “It’s fine, truly, I didn’t realize either. It’s been nice to talk about, actually, I’m glad I was able to provide some ideas you hadn’t thought of before.” He smiled. “I’m glad to be useful for something, you know? Aside from laying on my back, that is.” 

Eskel flipped his hand over, gripping Jaskier’s hand in his own. “You’re so much more than that, Jaskier.” He seemed to realize how intense his words were and cleared his throat, looking away. “Not the least of which is helping us with this.” 

Jaskier, a little taken aback by the conviction of Eskel’s words, flushed. He pulled his hand away and Eskel let it go. Nobody spoke for a moment. Eventually Eskel cleared his throat and shook his head. “Right, well, yes. Anyway, we’ve probably missed dinner, which is a shame. Are you hungry?” 

Looking at him in confusion, Jaskier shrugged and nodded, unsure what the man was asking. “Yes, but it’s fine, I don’t mind missing dinner.” He shrugged. “I’ve had far worse before, one meal doesn’t matter.” 

Eskel’s brow furrowed. “I wouldn’t expect you to just not eat if you missed a meal, Jaskier. If you’re hungry you should eat something.” He leaned forward, looking away from Jaskier’s eyes, and started gathering up the papers on the table. “I was going to suggest that we swing by the kitchens, since they usually have something to eat at all times of the day, just in case.” He shot Jaskier a quick grin. “After all, witchers are always hungry and if there wasn’t something for us to eat when we needed it, we’d end up messing up everything in the kitchen in search of food.” 

Jaskier was startled into a laugh and he felt some of the tension leak out of his shoulders. “I can imagine, gods know that you all must go through three men’s worth of food.” He not-so-subtly ran his eyes over Eskel’s frame, taking in the thick lines of muscle that covered his body. Eskel had a truly marvelous figure and Jaskier wasn’t above admiring it. 

Eskel chuckled as well and finished stacking the papers up. “I don’t know about that, but it’s definitely more than your average man.” He stood and offered Jaskier a hand up, which Jaskier took. “But seriously though, I’ll show you the kitchens. You should know where they are anyway in case you ever miss a meal on your own or get hungry between—you’re welcome any time to rustle something up, if you’re hungry.” 

Jaskier didn’t respond, just thinking over the idea. He’d never had such an offer before, a standing invitation to eat whenever and however much he wanted, and he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Luckily Eskel didn’t seem to need an answer from him and he led Jaskier out of the library and back through the palace halls. They made a quick stop so Eskel could drop off the papers at his office and then meandered towards the kitchen in no particular rush.

Chapter Text

The kitchens weren’t that far from the dining hall, which made sense in retrospect. Eskel pointed out the door to the dining hall opposite the doors to the kitchens before leading Jaskier through to the kitchens themselves. 

The room was gigantic, bigger even than the Redanian kitchens, and Jaskier gaped at the sheer volume of humanity moving within. Despite the fact that dinner seemed to indeed be over, the kitchens were still bustling with people, all shouting over each other to be heard. Jaskier was reminded of the kitchens at the baronry and he spared a thought for Cilia, wondering what she was doing and whether or not she’d guessed what really happened to him. 

He pushed the thought aside and instead refocused on the mayhem around himself, not wanting to get tripped up, or worse, cause someone else to go flying. For his size, Eskel was easily able to wind his way through the busy kitchen, avoiding people going here and there, and it was all Jaskier could do to keep up with him. Eskel led Jaskier towards a wall that held freestanding cabinets, off to the side and out of the way of most of the chaos of the kitchen. 

When they reached the cabinets, Eskel stopped and Jaskier came to a halt beside him, still looking around at the volume of people around them. Nobody seemed surprised to see them there and mostly just walked around the two of them.  

“Here, usually there’s plenty of food in these.” Eskel pulled open the door to one of the cabinets, revealing a few baskets, each filled with a different kind of fruit. Jaskier saw apples, pears, and another yellowish kind of fruit he couldn’t name. When Eskel pulled open the next cabinet door, there were some wheels of cheese, all missing chunks. Eskel quickly piled Jaskier’s arms full of food, all things that were easily carried and easily eaten, and Jaskier just stood there and took the food that Eskel gave him. 

Once Jaskier held enough food, Eskel closed the doors to the cabinets once more and turned back to Jaskier. “That should be enough for us both, right?” Jaskier looked down at the armload of food he held and nodded. “Right, well, I don’t suggest we stay here to eat since we’d likely be in the way.” He cracked a smile and Jaskier smiled back at him. 

“If you don’t want to try and find somewhere to eat, we could go back to my rooms since they’re nearby?” The words came unbidden from Jaskier’s mouth and Eskel blinked at him in surprise, his eyebrows rising up before he covered the shock and nodded at Jaskier. 

“Sure, if you don’t mind that would be great. My office is probably too far and also too messy, so your rooms would suit well.” 

Jaskier nodded back at him and let Eskel lead the way out of the kitchens, the larger man keeping closer to Jaskier to stop him from being knocked into by any of the kitchen staff and sending their food flying. They made it out of the kitchens without harm and found their way quickly back to Jaskier’s rooms. 

Jaskier only realized the problem when they approached the doors, his arms still laden with food. “Oh, uh, I—the doors are locked.” He frowned, trying how to figure out how he’d juggle the food in his arms and reach the key in his pants pocket without dropping anything. Eskel looked back at him. 

“You’ve got the key though, right?” Eskel asked. Jaskier nodded and then shook his head. 

“I’ve got it in my pocket, but I can’t—I’m not going to be able to reach it. Could you, um—?” 

Eskel nodded and stepped forward. Jaskier had intended for Eskel to grab some of the food in his arms but instead Eskel stepped even closer into his personal space, putting his hands on Jaskier’s hips. “Left or right pocket?” 

Jaskier gulped, the sudden nearness making him shiver. “R-Right.” 

Eskel reached two fingers into Jaskier’s pocket—his hand searing against Jaskier’s body even through the fabric of his pants—and fished out the key after only a moment of feeling around. He was out of Jaskier’s personal space as soon as he had the key in hand, which Jaskier appreciated. He might have found the man unbearably attractive, but he wasn't looking for anything of the kind at the moment. 

With light, easy movements Eskel unlocked the door to Jaskier’s rooms and held it open so Jaskier could step through. Jaskier did, making his way towards the table where he’d eaten breakfast the morning before. He dropped their food onto the flat surface, trying to keep the fruit from rolling away, and was grateful when Eskel came up beside him, big hands reaching out to keep an apple from falling off the table entirely. 

“Ah, right, thanks.” Jaskier’s face was flushed and when Eskel stepped back, Jaskier felt himself wanting to lean towards the other man, enjoying his presence at Jaskier’s side. It had been so long since Jaskier had gotten the chance to just be close to someone who didn’t want him that he found he rather enjoyed Eskel’s casual touches, all things considered. 

“No problem.” Eskel grinned and pulled over a chair, sitting himself on one side of the small table. “Alright, well, take what you want I guess. I’ll eat anything, so if there’s something you don’t want feel free to leave it for me.” 

Jaskier smiled at him in thanks and picked out two pears and a hunk of soft cheese wrapped with wax paper. Eskel waited for Jaskier to choose, giving him a look to make sure Jaskier had what he wanted before starting to take things for himself. Jaskier waved a hand, letting Eskel know that he was free to take whatever he wanted, and watched as the larger man picked out an apple, a pear, two pastries from a small bag of them, and the rest of the soft cheese plus some crackers. 

Not bothering to wait for Eskel, Jaskier dug in, eating with gusto. Having had lunch rather early and skipped dinner, his stomach had been rumbling angrily for about an hour and he was grateful for the food. He moaned when he scraped a cracker over the cheese and popped it into his mouth, enjoying the smoky flavor. He didn’t notice Eskel looking up at him when he moaned, too focused on his food, and Eskel quickly diverted his attention back to the food in front of him. 

Eskel finished off one apple before starting in on the cheese. When he unwrapped the soft cheese in front of himself, Jaskier watched him pull out a knife from somewhere, flipping it in his hand and carving a chunk out of another apple. He used the knife (definitely not a serving knife, either, it was far too sharp for that) to take some of the cheese and spread it over the apple slice before popping it into his mouth. 

When Eskel noticed Jaskier watching him eat the apple and cheese, he smiled, swallowing a mouthful. “You want to try some? It’s good.” 

Jaskier nodded and watched Eskel carve off another slice of apple, his hands working the knife expertly and quickly popping out a perfect semicircle. He slathered the apple with the cheese before handing it over to Jaskier. Their fingers brushed together and Jaskier ignored the spark that the touch sent through him, determined to focus on his food. 

Between the two of them, they managed to polish off the food quickly and when it was gone, Eskel sat back in his chair, giving Jaskier a soft smile. Jaskier returned the expression, feeling syrupy with the good food and warm room. Nobody spoke for a moment, both of them enjoying the silence. 

Eventually Eskel leaned forward, grabbing a corner of the tablecloth and wiping the excess cheese crumbs and apple juice from his knife since there weren’t any napkins. Jaskier’s eyes bugged out of his head as he stared at the man, too shocked to respond for a moment before starting to laugh. Eskel joined him, chuckling, and let the tablecloth drop back down. 

“Yes, well, I’m not about to put it back as is, that’s unsanitary!” Eskel’s protest against Jaskier’s unvoiced judgment was full of laughter and he waved his hands at the crumbs covering the table before them. Jaskier shook his head and rolled his eyes, still chuckling. 

“I didn’t even say anything!” Jaskier protested. 

Eskel pouted and crossed his arms, the knife still sticking out of his hand at an awkward angle. Jaskier couldn’t help but keep laughing and eventually Eskel just rolled his eyes and resheathed the knife, twisting his body to put it back where he’d retrieved it from. 

When Jaskier sobered, he looked over at Eskel curiously. “Where did you even pull that from, anyway? I feel like I’d have noticed if you carried a knife that size on your belt.” 

Eskel shook his head, standing up to show Jaskier. “Not on my belt, no, having it that visible just begs for someone to grab it to use against you in a fight.” He turned around, showing Jaskier the hidden sheath on his hip, between his skin and his pants. “Having it here means that you can toss your shirt over and nobody is any wiser. Not the only one I have on me either.” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened and he ran his gaze over Eskel’s body, wondering where else in his more or less skintight clothes he had hidden knives. Eskel chuckled again and indulged him, leaning over to show Jaskier that he had a knife hidden in each boot, as well as a thin one strapped to his upper arm, under the seam of his shirt to make it unnoticeable. 

The sheer number of weapons concealed on the man boggled Jaskier’s mind and he just stared up at Eskel for a moment. Eskel’s easy smile slid off his face and he frowned at Jaskier. 

“What are you thinking about? You seem pretty focused.” Eskel asked. Jaskier shook himself a little, flushing at having been caught looking. 

“Just wondering why you have so many on you, I guess. You live in a palace surrounded by guards, and you’re—” Jaskier almost caught himself, clamping his mouth shut at the last moment to avoid giving away that he knew what Eskel and the king were to each other. He didn’t really know, he supposed, but he knew they were more than brothers in arms, anyway. “You’re so close with the king. I wouldn’t think you’d have anything to worry about here.” 

Eskel shrugged, sitting back down on his chair. “Old habits die hard. Witchers might have been forgotten by most of the continent, but when we were common knowledge, we weren’t the most liked.” Jaskier frowned at him, but Eskel continued talking. “I’ve been jumped walking back to an inn more times than I can count, and most people willing to attack you from behind are more than willing to play dirty. Having the knives ensures that any tussle will be evenly matched, in any case.” He shrugged again. 

Jaskier raked his eyes over Eskel’s frame. “Surely even unarmed, any fight you have is weighted in your favor. I doubt there’s a man alive who’d be able to get the drop on you.” 

Eskel smirked back at him, shaking his head. “Eh, you’d be surprised, when you’re exhausted or injured it makes keeping track of things like that a lot harder.” He waved a hand. “Plus, six against one isn’t the best odds, even for a witcher.” 

Jaskier gaped at him. “They’d attack you six against one? But—I thought witchers were supposed to help people! You killed monsters, shouldn’t people have been glad that you were there to help?” 

Eskel shook his head, one hand coming up to scratch at his scars. “Not so much, really. If they had a monster problem they were all too happy to send me or one of my brothers out to deal with it and possibly get injured or killed in the process, but once the contract was complete we’d usually be politely—or not so politely—asked to leave town. Sometimes it wasn’t that bad, though, and we’d be able to stay an extra night or two in town, recovering from the fight.” He shrugged again. “Lots of people saw us as, well, just as much monsters as the things we hunt. We’re mutated, after all, regular humans turned more monstrous to deal with the monsters that roam the land.” 

Jaskier grit his teeth, his hands clenched into fists. “That’s—how dare they? You’re single handedly saving their town or their life or the lives of their family members, and they’d throw you out of the town, injured? That’s—that’s inhuman, nobody should—you didn’t deserve— urgh !” He threw his arms up, frustrated with the entire idea. “I don’t—honestly, if that’s how you were treated, why would you even want to help Geralt be king? If that’s how people treated you, you should want them to suffer, let them anguish through a bloody civil war for the throne.” 

Eskel’s face grew serious and he leaned forward, looking Jaskier in the eyes. “Would you have done the same? Decided that because of how you were treated, all could suffer? You’ve been treated plenty wrong, Jaskier, would you give up trying to help others because of that? You’re helping us, after all, trying to make sure that the people of Rivia are given a good break, despite never having met any of them. If Geralt hadn’t abolished slavery when he did, most Rivians would take one look at you and try to catch you for a bounty; even now you’d probably still be treated as a lower class citizen in certain parts of the country.” 

Jaskier frowned back at him, unhappy with the man’s arguments but also seeing the logic in them. Choosing to blame the many for the transgressions of the few was foolhardy, and when faced with the reality of helping someone (or someones) or not, he would probably still choose to help if he was able. Maybe not the nobles of the Redanian court, but even then, he’d have hesitations about being so cold. 

He sighed, looking away from Eskel’s gaze. “Alright, point taken. Sometimes you have to help even if the people you’re helping don’t deserve it.” He scrubbed his palms over his eyes with a groan. “Fuck, I hate that you’re right though. It’d be a hell of a lot easier to just be able to say ‘screw it’ and ignore other people’s problems.” 

Eskel chuckled. “Easier, maybe, but would you really want to live in that kind of a cruel, selfish world? I can’t imagine that being better than what we have now.” 

Jaskier just groaned again, opening his eyes to see Eskel smiling back at him, the man’s expression softer than he’d have expected. “No, I suppose not.” He sighed. “Doesn’t change the fact that I still think you deserve better than to be attacked at all, let alone with those kinds of odds.” 

Eskel shook his head and leaned back in his chair. “It wasn’t as often as you might be thinking. Just annoying to try and lose the attackers without hurting them, since they were also usually powered by liquid courage.” 

Jaskier grit his teeth harder as he listened to the witcher describe what his life had been like. “Well, consider me glad that you’ve been less prone to sudden attacks here.” 

Eskel grinned at him. “I’d agree that life here does seem to be safer.” He shrugged. “And better, too, I’ll admit, since before we almost never saw our brothers outside of wintertime when we all returned to Kaer Morhen to spend the cold seasons.” Jaskier paused at that, wondering if the relationship between the king and Eskel was new, then, but decided not to think on it too long since he hadn’t even been told about it, technically. Eskel kept talking. “It’s….odd, really, not to have to constantly watch our backs, but we were able to figure out some semblance of normal eventually and we still get to do what we were made for, so I’d say it’s better on the whole.”

That, Jaskier couldn’t resist commenting on. “You still kill monsters? When? How? I can’t imagine that there are many monsters around the castle that need killing, and it would take weeks to travel to take care of any that were further away.” 

Eskel gave him another grin. “Magic, of course.” The idea was so obvious that Jaskier almost rolled his eyes at himself. “Yennefer, since she’s decided to stick around and help Geralt figure himself out, has been kind enough to portal us to and from where we need to get in order to take out the worst of the problems plaguing the continent. We usually go in pairs—or in small groups, if the threat is big enough—and we just let her know once we’re done so she can portal us back.” 

Jaskier was gaping at him now and he shut his mouth with one hand. “She really does all that? Why? I’d heard mages were fickle, they don’t like being pinned down at court for too long or swearing allegiances, since money is usually a higher priority than staying somewhere long term.” 

Eskel shook his head, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. “Not always. Sure, they’re told to act like that, and from what I’ve learned about Yennefer she was like that for a long time before she came here, hired by the king’s advisors to perform a tricky spell that would determine the next in line for the throne.” He waved a hand. “But, well, we’re not your average group of royals, hmm?” Jaskier nodded his agreement. “And she’s getting other things out of the arrangement, things one can’t always get with money.” 

Jaskier frowned at that. “Like what? I’d have thought money would solve most problems, save death and maybe one or two others.” 

Eskel chuckled. “Oh money isn’t the be all end all you think it is, although it’s mighty helpful in it’s own right. But Yen, she’s—she cares a lot, even though she’s built up her walls so high that you’d be hard pressed to see it from the outside. What we’ve got here, she fits in. She enjoys teaching Ciri to control her powers and she might grumble about not being around just to portal us places, but I can tell that she enjoys being able to help people. We’re a family here, and she’s been a part of it for long enough that I don’t think she’d be able to quit any time soon.” Eskel shook his head at Jaskier. “Don’t tell her I told you that though, because she’d pick up and leave in a heartbeat just to prove me wrong.” 

Jaskier cocked his head, looking at Eskel in confusion. “Who’s Ciri?” He watched Eskel’s expression tighten for a moment before the witcher managed to control his face once more. 

“Ah, right, I forgot you hadn’t been introduced yet. She’s Geralt’s daughter.” 

The shock that the words sent through Jaskier’s body was a near physical thing and he leaned back heavily in his chair, his eyes wide as he looked at Eskel. 

“The king has a daughter? Is he married too, have I managed to miss a Queen since I’ve been here?” Jaskier frowned. “Or, wait. Is Yennefer her mother? She didn’t seem, well, her and Geralt didn’t really seem like they’d—but I guess, you can’t really tell, I mean—” 

Eskel cut him off thankfully, shaking his head. “No queen. Believe me, plenty have tried, but Geralt is grumpy enough to scare away even the most insistent trophy hunters.” 

Plus it’s not like he’s wanting for companionship, Jaskier thought, but didn’t interject with. 

Eskel continued. “And Ciri isn’t—she’s ours, nobody is taking her out of Rivia anytime soon, but she’s—we do try to keep her private, since growing up even somewhat royal just seems like more of a pain in the ass than it’s worth. So far, we’ve managed to keep her out of the discussions when it comes to peace treaties and the like with other countries, but once they realize she’s here and that Geralt dotes on her the way he does, well.” He grimaced. “I don’t think any of them are really prepared for how much Geralt is willing to move heaven and earth to make sure she’s taken care of and happy.” He shook his head. “It’ll be a shitshow, but one we’re hoping to put off as long as we’re able to.” 

Jaskier could see that, and having grown up in the presence of royalty he couldn’t agree more with the sentiment that it was best avoided when possible. “Well, hopefully when they do eventually figure it out, they’re smart enough to realize that it might not be a good idea to try and use her as a bargaining chip.” 

Eskel actually laughed at that, throwing his head back as he did. “We can hope, but I’m not holding my breath.” 

Jaskier had to agree with the statement, knowing just how insane royalty got with things like that. “Ah well.” He wriggled in his chair, feeling restless. “Uh, so, Eskel, did you want to continue going over your documents tomorrow? I know you’d said that you were hoping to talk about as much as we’re able to before the ambassadors get here next week, and I’d love to help figure out how you’re going to go at the negotiations, to make sure you’re getting the best for Rivia.” He shrugged, feeling awkward again. “I could—if you wanted to meet to talk about it after breakfast, we could—” 

Eskel was already shaking his head, frowning. “I can’t, not really in the mornings anyway. I’ve—well, to be honest I’ve been skipping the past few days since we’ve been trying to figure everything out with you, but now that you’re—now that I know we’ve got you another week at least, I probably have to return to morning training.” He gave Jaskier a guilty smile. “Geralt’s pretty particular about them, he’s been riding my ass about skipping and if I don’t go tomorrow he’ll never let me forget it.” 

Jaskier looked back at him and nodded. “I understand, that makes perfect sense. If—well, I guess, just come find me whenever you want to talk, then?” He shrugged. “I might try to see if I can find my way back to that library, the one we were in tonight. I wanted to look at the books they’ve got there.” 

Eskel grinned at him. “That sounds like a wonderful idea! I’m sure you’ll find something in there to interest you, I always manage to do so. And training usually lasts until just before lunch, so I’ll probably see you in the dining hall for lunch and we can figure ourselves out from there.” 

Jaskier nodded back, thinking it a good plan. “Alright.” 

With that, Eskel stood and pushed his chair in. “Well, I should—I’ll get out of your hair, yeah?” His eyes flicked to the room’s windows and he frowned as he saw how high the moon was. “I’m sure you’re exhausted, I probably took up too much of your time today as it is.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I’ll let you get some sleep.” Jaskier nodded, even though it hadn’t been framed as a question. “And I guess I’ll see you for breakfast in the morning, then.” 

Eskel gave Jaskier another nod and then started for the door. When he reached it, he hesitated, looking back to Jaskier and biting his scarred bottom lip. “Thank you, by the way. You’ve only been here a few days and you’re already such a great help, I know—if you truly want to leave we won’t stop you, but know that the country of Rivia is better for us having you here, and I’d be glad if you decided to stay.” 

He didn’t give Jaskier a chance to respond, slipping out of the room without another word and closing the door firmly behind himself. Jaskier was left staring at the door, unsure what to make of Eskel’s declaration. He didn’t think the man was lying, nor did he really have any reason to, but Jaskier hadn’t done nearly as much as Eskel seemed to think and he didn’t know how to feel about the fact that the man seemed determined to make sure Jaskier knew he was wanted. 

With the questions from the night still bouncing around in his head, Jaskier slowly readied himself for bed, not bothering to do much more than strip down and wash his face before crawling into bed. Like the night before, Jaskier was certain he’d be awake for a while longer but almost as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was out like a light.

Chapter Text

The next morning dawned much like the one before and while Jaskier wasn’t ever going to get used to the luxury of being able to take a hot bath whenever he wanted, he managed to finish scrubbing before the water cooled, slipping out of the bathwater to towel himself off. Before he could dress himself in the (now somewhat rank) borrowed clothes there was a knock at his door. 

Jaskier hesitated, unsure what he wanted to do. The idea of throwing on the dirty clothes over his still-damp body rankled, but he wasn’t exactly thrilled by the prospect of opening the door in only a towel. The choice was made much easier, however, when a voice sounded from outside the door. 

“Jaskier,” There was another knock. “I picked up the clothes Anya said she’d have ready for you yesterday, I figured you’d need them.” It was Aiden, his voice just loud enough for Jaskier to hear him through the door. “I wanted to give them to you before breakfast.” 

Jaskier didn’t wait any longer and crossed the room, checking to make sure his towel was tightened securely around his waist before unlocking the door. When he opened it, he was relieved to see that it was just Aiden who stood in the hall—Lambert was nowhere to be found. 

Aiden grinned wide at him and held out a bundle of fabric. “Here, thought you might be happy to have something that you haven’t worn for two days straight.” Jaskier took the clothes, fabric sticking to his damp skin. “That, plus, you know, we can all smell that you were rewearing the clothes.” His grin turned into a smirk as Jaskier flushed. 

Jaskier nodded, holding the clothes closer to his body to cover his bare chest. “Right, well, that’s—yeah, that’s fair. I—thank you, Aiden, I appreciate it.” He shot the other man a smile, still very aware of his half-naked state. Aiden gave him a look but didn’t comment, even though he probably knew exactly how fast Jaskier’s heart was beating. 

“It’s no problem, she said your own clothes should be ready in another week or two so these should hold you over until then.” Aiden dipped his head at Jaskier before turning away from him and continuing down the corridor in the direction of the dining hall. 

Jaskier closed the door to his rooms as quickly as he dared, holding the clothes to his chest and trying to take a deep breath. His legs felt wobbly and he leaned against the door until he was sure they’d support him, only then walking back over to the large bed and tossing the clothes onto it. 

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes, his other hand still holding the knot of his towel tightly. Aiden hadn’t given any indication that he was at all interested in Jaskier; for all intents and purposes he seemed more than satisfied in his relationship with Lambert ( why that was, Jaskier had no idea, but he wasn’t complaing) but the fact that the man had gotten a glimpse of his body had spiked Jaskier’s adrenaline. He only had bad associations with being naked in front of others, and his reaction after having a few days time to get used to the idea of not having to do that anymore was stronger than it would have been previously. 

He took a few minutes to get himself back under control, evening his breathing slowly and calming his racing heart. Once he was able to take a deep breath and was certain he’d be able to stand without shaking, Jaskier ran hands over the clothes. They were finer than he was used to but then again, he was barely used to having clothes at all. The three shirts were all soft and comfortable, and the pants seemed sturdy enough. 

Grateful for the chance to wear something clean, Jaskier finished drying himself off quickly and slipped into the borrowed clothes. He still had no underclothes and he made a note to himself to visit Anya once more in order to request some. 

When he left his room, Jaskier made his way quickly towards the direction of the dining hall, more sure this time of the way than he’d been previously. If you asked him to find the king’s real office, he’d still have been hard pressed, but Jaskier wouldn’t have thought it impossible either and he knew that was progress. 

Breakfast was in full swing when he entered, the entire hall busy with people sitting, standing, eating, and talking over one another. Jaskier was hit with a wall of noise when he opened the doors, so loud that it nearly smacked into him physically. He took a step backwards but braced himself, walking inside the hall and looking around. 

Both the king and Eskel sat at the high table, talking to each other in between bites of food. Jaskier walked towards them, still unsure when they’d decide he had enough time to adjust and would say he was no longer welcome to sit amongst them, but relaxed when Eskel looked up, catching his eye and giving Jaskier a grin. 

A wave from the scarred witcher was all it took to have Jaskier jogging the last few meters, coming to a stop behind Eskel’s chair. The seat to his right was free, the one to his left filled by the king. Eskel waved a hand towards the empty chair, indicating that Jaskier should take a seat without pausing in whatever he was saying to the king. 

Jaskier sat, and when Eskel didn’t immediately break off his conversation in order to address him, grabbed one of the large dishes and started serving himself. Eskel was facing away from him, but Geralt was looking at Jaskier when he turned to reach for a bowl by Eskel’s elbow, watching him over Eskel’s shoulder. Jaskier gulped, looking away quickly, and managed to refocus on the food in front of himself. 

He started eating, focusing half on the food and half on what Eskel was saying to the king. Most of the conversations he’d been privy to so far (whether Eskel and the king knew he was listening or not) had been more than a little informative, and he was certain this one would be no different. 

The king was speaking lowly, his voice growly and tense. “—not sure if we can, Eskel. She’s not—I don’t want her caught up in everything, fuck, I’d rather she didn’t have to be here at all.” 

Eskel hummed, a mirror of the king’s usual eloquence, and didn’t respond for long moments. “I don’t see why we have to announce her. She’s—it’s not like you’re planning on marrying her off, so why bother?” 

The king growled under his breath. “The advisors think that having her here without announcing her could be bad for, well, everything. Apparently it’s an insult to the other kingdoms if they find out about her without me having announced her, something to do with knowing the line of succession and being able to negotiate in good faith.” He grunted in disgust. “Good faith, what horse shit. They’re taking every opportunity to screw us and I’m still expected to put her up in front of everyone like a pig on a butcher’s block?” 

Eskel sighed, running a hand over his face. “Fuck. Well, let’s—we’ll just think about it, right now, I guess. We don’t have to make a decision immediately and as long as we’re able to keep her out of sight while they’re here, we’ll have some more time to figure out what we’ll do before we absolutely have to announce her existence to the world.” He sighed again. 

The king didn’t answer, and the conversation seemed like it was finished for the moment. Instead of trying to coax anything more out of him, Eskel turned to Jaskier with a somewhat forced smile. 

“Good morning, Jaskier, how are you doing today?” The question seemed genuine even if the levity was a little strained, and Jaskier gave Eskel a shrug and a small smile back. 

“I’m well, thank you.” He used the hand not holding his fork to gesture loosely at the clothes he wore. “Anya gave me some more clothes to wear so I don’t just have the one outfit, which was very kind of her.” 

Instead of being pleased by that, Eskel’s brows drew together and he pursed his lips, looking Jaskier over. “Shit, I was supposed to talk to her about getting you some clothes, I just kept forgetting to do it.” He frowned harder. “I’m sorry Jaskier, I told you I would and I didn’t.” 

Jaskier shook his head, shoving another forkful of eggs into his mouth and chewing before responding. “No, it’s—I’m good, actually. Aiden and—and Lambert found me yesterday afternoon, they showed me where to go and I was able to talk with her. I think—” He paused, unsure if he wanted to tell Eskel. “I think she’s said she’s making me a few outfits, more than I need, really, but—but I don’t want to be—if you don’t agree that I need quite so many, I can tell her to—I’ll let her know, of course—” 

Eskel cut Jaskier off with a shake of his head. “No, I’m glad that you were able to talk with her, I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted lately.” He offered Jaskier a smile. “It’s good that you’re getting some clothes of your own, I’m glad to hear it.” He sniffed lightly, nostrils flaring, and Jaskier flushed as he realized that the man was probably still smelling Aiden on him, since he’d been the one to pick up the clothes. He wasn’t sure why he was so embarrassed at the idea of smelling like another man, smelling like he’d bedded Aiden —even though he clearly had not, and had no intention of doing so—and he found himself wishing that witcher senses weren’t quite so sharp. 

Jaskier offered Eskel another small smile before turning back to his food and scooping some more eggs into his mouth. Eskel didn’t try to make further conversation with either Jaskier or the king, and they finished breakfast in a companionable silence. 

Before Jaskier was finished eating, the king stood from the table, pushing his chair back. Quite a few of the men in the hall (all large, burly men, who Jaskier assumed were the witchers) stood as well once they realized that he had gotten up, and Jaskier watched as the king looked them over, giving a rather regal nod before starting away from the table and towards the doors to the hall. Most of the men followed, and Jaskier looked to Eskel in confusion. 

Eskel had already pushed himself back but hadn’t stood from his chair yet, and when Jaskier looked over to him he turned to give him a smile. “It’s time for training, like I was saying yesterday. It usually goes until about lunchtime. If you want to come with and see what we’re doing, you’re more than welcome to, but I doubt that you have all that much interest in watching a bunch of witchers swinging swords at each other for three hours straight.” 

Jaskier bit his lip and shook his head. Watching a veritable feast of godly men fighting and completing feats of strength didn’t sound like the worst time Jaskier could imagine, but he thought it best not to, at least while he was still unsure where he stood with them all. He offered Eskel another smile. 

“I think I’ll be alright for the moment, I’ll—I was hoping to find that conservation library again, maybe look at some of the books there, if that’s acceptable.” Jaskier said, toying with the hem of his borrowed shirt. Eskel smiled wider at him. 

“Ah, right! I’m sure you’ll enjoy it, it’s always a joy to be able to spend some time there.” Eskel stood, and clapped Jaskier lightly on the shoulder. “You don’t need me to show you the way, do you? I’m certainly—” 

Jaskier shook his head. “No, no, you’ve got your training and I’ll bet you’re already late since you didn’t leave with the rest of them.” He caught Eskel’s eye and the larger man winced, confirming the statement. “I’ll be able to find it eventually, and worst comes to worst I’ll just wander the palace for a while, learning the layout.” He smiled up at Eskel, reaching up to pat awkwardly at the hand on his shoulder. “I appreciate your offering. Thank you.” 

Eskel looked like he wanted to say something else but instead he closed his mouth, giving Jaskier a nod. He squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder and then let him go, turning and walking in the direction that the rest of the witchers had departed without looking back at Jaskier. 

Jaskier stayed at the table for a few minutes longer, finishing the last of his breakfast and contemplating what he planned to do next. He needed to visit Anya, to ask for undergarments, and he also wanted to visit the library. Supposing that it was best to get the errand out of the way first, Jaskier sighed and pushed himself out from the table as well, standing slowly as he tried to remember the way that Aiden and Lambert had shown him the day before. It didn’t seem too difficult and he made his way down from the table absently, only paying enough attention to keep himself from bumping into anyone. 

As he walked towards the doors to the hall the hair on the back of his head stood up in the way that signaled someone was watching him. He turned, looking over the still plentiful crowds of people around, but didn’t see anyone looking directly at him. He gave one more glance around before shrugging and continuing on out of the hall faster than he’d been walking before. 

Once he’d exited the dining hall, Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief, glad to be away from the throngs of people. Behind him, however, he heard the doors to the hall creak open once more and he turned around to see who’d followed him out. 

When he saw the person who’d slipped out of the dining hall Jaskier relaxed slightly at the sight of the flaxen-haired girl that he’d noticed sitting next to the king on his first night at dinner. He supposed that this must be Ciri, the king’s daughter, and he froze as he saw her looking at him. 

They stood unmoving for long moments before a sound of someone dropping something loudly came from inside the dining hall, the echoes of laughter at the person’s misfortune breaking the spell. Jaskier shook himself and bowed to the girl, sinking as low as a princess’ rank demanded. 

“Your highness, I presume?” 

The girl wrinkled her nose. “I dunno about that, nobody calls me highness.” She cracked a mischievous smile. “At least, they don’t when I’m not in trouble.” 

Jaskier couldn’t help but chuckle. “Well, then, how should I address you?” 

She shrugged, looking at him. “Ciri is fine, it’s my name after all.” Jaskier nodded at her. 

“Ciri it is then.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Were you following me?” 

She flushed, looking away from him. “No.” He snorted and she rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Alright, fine, I have lessons today and I don’t want to do them. You’re new enough that nobody would think to look for me wherever you’re going, so I figured I’d have longer before they dragged me back to learn maths.” She wrinkled her nose again at the idea of maths and Jaskier laughed louder, his heart lifting at her clear disgust with the subject. 

“Well, I can’t promise that I’ll be much fun to follow around.” He gave her a wry grin. “I’m headed to Anya to ask about something and then I was planning on reading in one of the libraries for the rest of the morning.” 

Ciri shrugged at him. “Eh, that’s fine, can’t be worse than having to sit through maths. Can I join you?” 

The question threw Jaskier off and he just blinked at her for a moment. She seemed to genuinely be asking, not ordering, and he waited for her to just tell him she was joining him. She did no such thing, just staring back at him and waiting for his response. 

Jaskier cleared his throat. “Uh, I mean, yeah, sure, if you want to. I don’t—I mean, if you want to, I don’t see why not.” He spared a thought for what kind of trouble he’d be in when others found out that he’d kept the princess from her studies, but he couldn’t find it in himself to deny her. “Well, uh, I guess we should head off then?” He scratched the back of his neck. “The tailor shouldn’t take too long, I just need to ask her a question or two.” 

Ciri nodded at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Okay! I know where the tailor is, do you need me to show you?” She sounded excited, her eyes wide. 

Jaskier was fairly certain that he knew how to get there but he nodded at her, gesturing for her to lead the way. She bounced up and down a couple more times and then took off, running about thirty feet and then turning when she saw Jaskier was only walking, not keeping up with her pace. Instead of telling him to hurry up, though, she just sighed and ran back to him. When she offered him a hand, Jaskier took it without hesitation, letting her pull him along at pace somewhere in between their two speeds. 

Ciri did indeed seem to know her way around the palace quite easily, and she directed him around corners and through doorways, and once in the short journey she even pulled aside a tapestry hanging the length of one wall to reveal a doorway Jaskier wouldn’t have known was there, which led out to a corridor on the other side that cut about six hundred feet off their route. 

They made good time to Anya’s rooms and Jaskier hesitated at the door, unsure if he should knock or just walk right in the way Aiden and Lambert had done the day before. The choice was taken out of his hands as Ciri pushed the door open, tugging him through without hesitation. 

“Anya! Are you here?” Ciri’s voice was loud in the quiet of the room and Jaskier winced at the sound. There was some rustling from the other side of the room and then Anya appeared from behind a pile of fabrics. 

“Mistress Ciri! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, my dear.” The woman fixed Ciri with a stern look. “Have you ripped any more of your nice clothing? You know I’ve told your father that if he’s going to have you train, you’re to do it in play clothes only.” 

Ciri shook her head, grinning up at Anya. “No, I’m not here for me this time!” She lifted the hand still held in Jaskier’s own, gesturing towards him. “Jaskier said he needed to come talk to you and I’m avoiding my lessons.” 

Her tone was matter of fact and Anya just chuckled, looking from Ciri to Jaskier. “Well then, I can’t fault you for that.” She caught Jaskier’s eye, turning towards him. “And what brings you back here, dearie? I don’t think I’ll have your clothes ready for another few weeks, at least, although if you’re in desperate need I can try to get you something sooner.” 

Jaskier shook his head, letting go of Ciri’s hand in order to hold up his own. “No, nothing like that, I’m completely fine waiting for you to finish, no rush from me. I just, ah, well, I’d forgotten to ask yesterday, but as I’m borrowing some clothes from Aiden, I don’t have—” He glanced at Ciri, who didn’t seem all that interested in the conversation and was instead poking at a silky blue bolt of fabric on the ground nearby. He turned back to Anya. “I don’t have underclothes, and I was hoping that you’d maybe have something on hand. It doesn’t need to be fitted, just, you know.” He shrugged, feeling uncomfortable, and Anya just clucked her tongue. 

“I should have realized, I’m sorry dearie.” She waved a hand at him. “You wait here, I’ll be right back.” Before Jaskier could even respond she turned on her heel, disappearing behind the mounds of fabrics once more. 

Jaskier looked to Ciri, who had shifted her focus from the cloth back to him and was now watching him curiously. 

“How come you don’t have any clothes?” She didn’t seem annoyed, just curious, and Jaskier hesitated, unsure how much to tell her. 

“Well, I—it’s rather complicated. Your father and Eskel saved me from a rather precarious situation, and in the process I was unable to grab any of my belongings, including my clothing.” He shrugged. “I’m rather glad to be out of there, clothes or no clothes, so I’m perfectly fine not going back for them.” Not to mention the fact that the ‘clothes’ he’d worn previously were usually nothing more than undergarments themselves, and having some real, sturdy clothing was somewhat of a novelty to him. 

Ciri looked up at him, her face pinched. “They saved you without clothes on?” 

Jaskier chuckled and reached out to ruffle her hair. “Yes, well, it wasn’t by choice, I’ll tell you that. But it’s fine, and I’m grateful to them for the rescue, they’re both quite the daring heroes.” He shot her a broad wink and she giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. 

Jaskier was saved from having to say more by the return of Anya, who held a medium sized package wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine in her hands. She held it out to Jaskier, who took it easily, and smiled back at her. 

“Thank you so much Anya, I’m grateful for the assistance. If there’s anything I can do for you in return, please don’t hesitate to ask.” The words slipped out of his mouth without his conscious decision to say them, the offer a standard one he’d given hundreds of times before. And previously he’d really meant it; he’d have to do anything they requested in return, but now, here, his stomach clenched tightly at the realization that he’d just offered himself to her without caveats. 

She waved a hand at him, brushing away the offer easily. “Oh, it’s my job, don’t you worry about me dearie.” She shot him a sly grin. “Although, I will ask that if you’re ever able to convince that king and the rest of his men that they don’t absolutely have to rip each other’s shirts off at every opportunity, I’d be grateful for the help.” 

Jaskier breathed out, relaxing slightly as he realized she wasn’t going to ask for anything more than that. He looked away, down towards Ciri, and found the girl looking up at him curiously. 

He cleared his throat. “Right, well. I believe that’s everything I needed here for the moment, yeah?” Shifting the parcel so he held it with one hand, his other free, he offered Ciri his arm. “If you wouldn’t mind making a quick stop by my rooms so I can drop this off, I’d be grateful, my lady, and then we can go off to the library if you’re still interested in joining me.” 

Ciri giggled, smiling back at him and taking the offered hand. “That sounds great to me, although I don’t know where your rooms are so you’ll have to lead the way this time.” 

Jaskier grinned and nodded before turning back to look Anya in the eyes. “Thank you, ma’am, I appreciate the help on such short notice.” 

She grinned and waved the both of them off. “Oh hush. Now you get gone before one of the girl’s tutors comes looking for her.” 

They all chuckled at that and Jaskier led Ciri out of the tailor’s rooms and back towards his own. When they reached his doors he was forced to let go of her hand in order to fish out his key and unlock the doors and he took only a moment to go inside and toss the package onto the bed with a soft thump before returning to Ciri in the hall. She waited while he locked the doors once more and then offered her hand again.

Chapter Text

“You said you wanted to go to the library?” At her question, Jaskier nodded. Ciri’s face twisted in concentration. “Alright, I can show you where it is. Do you know which library?” 

Jaskier nodded, giving her hand a squeeze. “I do, it’s the conservation library—Eskel showed it to me yesterday and it was beautiful, but I’m not entirely sure I know how to get back there. I’d be honored if you could show me the way.” 

Ciri grinned and bounced on her toes some more. “Oh, yes, I know that one! It is really pretty in there, the windows are so big and you can see forever when it’s not foggy.” She started walking, tugging him along while continuing to talk. “I don’t go over there that much since I think some of the conservationists worry about me since I’m a kid, but if you’re there they probably won’t say anything!” 

Jaskier was forced to smother a grin, instead looking ahead as he let her pull him along. “I’m sure they just haven’t spent much time with you, you seem perfectly well behaved to me and I don’t think you’d ever do anything to ruin any of the books there.” 

Ciri sighed and nodded. “That’s what I said! But they still get that pinched look on their faces when they see me around there, which I think is very rude of them.” She held her nose high, looking for all the world like the peeved princess she was. Jaskier choked down another chuckle and instead just squeezed her hand. 

“Well, with me there they’ll have to see that you’re fine. Plus they might not even be there right now, Eskel said that they’re not always there.” 

Ciri hummed, much like her father, and continued to lead him along. They walked in silence until they reached the glass-paned doors of the conservation library. Jaskier pushed them open and the two of them stepped inside. Since the sun was still rather low in the sky it shone through the windows brightly, casting long shadows along the length of the floor and bouncing light off of all of the glass cases in the room. In the daylight with the sun streaming in, the room was even more impressive, and it was all Jaskier could do to keep from drooling. 

He let go of Ciri’s hand in order to walk over to the nearest bookshelf, pulling down a book at random and opening it to the first page. There was an insert before the first page, a note that marked the book as a copy of the real thing, which was in magical storage so as not to be damaged further by time. As he flipped through, he realized that the book was a detailed history of the worship of Melitele, going back multiple centuries. Some of the descriptions of how humans’ worship for her and ceremonies and customs had accompanying illustrations and he was stopped dead when he flipped another page to find a full two page spread illustration of a ritual killing that a Town in Southern Kovir performed once a year in her honor. 

The image was beautifully drawn but terribly grotesque, with rolling heads littering the town square. A small box with a caption noted that the ritual had only been abandoned some hundred and fifty years prior, and it was implied that the town hadn’t entirely given up the practice on its own, rather the Kovirian king had forbidden the practice of ritual sacrifice altogether. 

Ciri came over from where she’d been peering into one of the cases and looked at the book in his hands. “What’s that?” 

Jaskier snapped the book closed quickly, slotting it back onto the shelf where he’d gotten it from. He was not going to be the one to expose the king’s daughter to such horrors if she wasn’t already aware of them. “A book on the ways people used to honor Melitele. It looks rather dull though, I was hoping to find something livelier to read.” A lie, Jaskier was very interested in reading more of that one as soon as he wasn’t around an impressionable young girl. “Hmm, I guess without much information we could probably just start looking through these, then?” 

Agreeing happily, Ciri nodded and walked over to the shelf, pulling another one down at random. This one had a dark green cover but no title and when she opened it up, they saw that it had a list of all of the betrothal and wedding presents sent to the new king and queen of Rivia, some six hundred years past. While the idea of looking through such a list sounded interesting, they found quickly that most of the book was dedicated to listing out all the titles and standing of all of the gifters at length, while the gifts themselves were often given no more than a one or two sentence description with accompanying monetary value. 

Ciri wrinkled her nose and flipped the book closed. “Ugh, this one is no fun. Should I pick again, or do you want to this time?” 

Humming, Jaskier replaced the book back on the shelf. “You pick again, I trust your judgment.” She gave him a serious nod, showing she understood the confidence being placed in her, and scanned the shelves for something good. 

It took her a minute or two to find the next book to try but when she brought it back over to the table Jaskier had taken a seat at, she was grinning. “I know this one is going to be good! It’s orange, orange means it’ll be good.” 

Jaskier smiled at her. “Oh, it means it’ll be good? How do you know?” 

With an eye roll, Ciri stuck her tongue out at Jaskier. “Because, silly, orange things are always good! Oranges, orange juice, both are great. So a book that’s orange will also be good.” 

He chuckled and opened it up, flipping through a few pages. The first page he opened had a drawing on one page of a lion mid-roar, with the opposing page containing a children’s nursery rhyme about lions and not being eaten. He looked to Ciri before flipping the page and found her looking down at the lion but not actively reading. On the next page, there was another illustration, this time of three bunnies chasing each other in a circle. It had an accompanying nursery rhyme, this one about bunnies. 

When Jaskier looked up, he caught Ciri’s eyes. He shrugged at her, fine with reading this one if she was, and she shook her head back at him. 

“No, this is for little kids. I want something more interesting.” Jaskier had to bite back a smile at that but let her close the book and replace it on the shelf. Instead of picking another book, however, Ciri came back and sat down at the table next to Jaskier. “You pick something this time.” 

He gave her another shrug and nodded, standing from the table. Jaskier scanned the shelves, trying to make out information, but since most of the books were replicas they had little to no information on the spines and he had little success. Eventually, after another moment of looking, Jaskier lighted on a book that was so blue it was almost black, the cover undecorated save for a simple stitched square in silver thread. He gently eased it off the shelf and brought it back to their table before opening it. 

The first page it fell open to wasn’t that interesting at first glance, it just had a bunch of lines with some strange markings on it, and there were a few words below every set of lines. Jaskier almost closed it again immediately, not seeing anything of interest, but before he could his eyes caught on a few of the words at the bottom of the page. He recognized them, though from where he couldn’t remember. Frowning, Jaskier set the edges of the book back against the table and flipped back a few pages, trying to find some sort of description of what he was looking at. 

A few pages back in the book there was a page that was clearly the start of whatever it was that he was looking at, it had a bolded title and a small description underneath. 

The Golden Goose and Her Three Hens

A Redanian folk song, this is one of the earliest known scribed copies, with different wording than current versions, likely changed to fit the times. The song describes a female ‘goose’ who tends to her three hens, long thought to be a metaphor for a same-sex multiple-partner relationship formed when the women decided to revoke their vows to their husbands and instead run off with each other. Several possible origins for the story have been proposed, but none have been proven to be the original source material. 

It was Redanian, which made sense why Jaskier recognized it, he supposed. He looked over the words under the strange lines and they seemed familiar, although he couldn’t tell what the symbols above them meant. Before he could give up trying to figure it out, Ciri leaned forward and stuck her head into his field of view to look at it. 

“It’s music!” Her voice was loud in the quiet room and Jaskier nearly jumped in shock. 

“Music? The book said it was a song and I think I might have heard the words before, but I don’t know what these are.” Jaskier traced a finger along one set of lines with symbols. Citi looked up at him and grinned. 

“They’re the notes! Each line and space means a different note, and they’re written so you know how to sing the song.” She frowned, her tongue poking out of her mouth in concentration. “I had to learn them when my tutors tried to get me to learn how to play the flute, I think I remember them all.” She landed a finger over one dot placed in the space between the first and second line. “This one is….an F! It’s an F.” She frowned again. “I don’t know what F is though, what it’s supposed to sound like.” She turned towards Jaskier, a sheepish smile on her face. “I wasn’t very good at the flute.” 

He chuckled and ran a hand over her hair. “Oh, I’m sure you were fine. And that’s quite interesting, I’ve played music before but I’d never seen written music before, it was all just what I picked up from listening to others.” He drummed his fingers on the table, looking down at the book again. “I wonder if it would be difficult to learn?” 

Ciri jumped up, shaking her head. “It isn’t! Wait, I’ve got an idea—I know I’ve still got the books they gave me to learn the notes from, I can go find them!” She hopped up and down on her toes a few times, grinning at Jaskier. “Wait right here, I’ll be back in a minute!” 

She left before he could even respond, the door clanging shut behind her. Jaskier stared after her for a moment before chuckling to himself, glad for the girl’s enthusiasm. He’d not realized that there was a written form of music but it made sense; otherwise you’d have to have musicians teaching each other new compositions and having to either learn it perfectly the first time or hope you weren’t remembering it incorrectly. 

While he waited for Ciri to return Jaskier flipped through the book some more, finding a song here and there that he somewhat recognized the words to, although most of them were foreign to him. The tunes that were written in that strange notation still looked more like nonsense than actual music to him, but he suspected that Ciri’s workbooks would be a lot of help once she got back. 

Soon the doors to the library were pushed open once more and Jaskier looked up to see Ciri standing there breathing heavily, a wild grin on her face and a couple books clenched in her hands. She let the doors fall closed again and strode over to Jaskier with a triumphant expression. 

“I found them! I wasn’t sure where I’d left them, since well, I wasn’t all that interested in them at the time, but they were on one of my bookshelves! I think my dad must have put them away there, I know I wasn’t the one who did.” She cackled at the last part and Jaskier joined her in laughter, greatly enjoying how unrepentant she was about it. 

“Well, I thank you then, kind lady, for retrieving them for me to look at.” Jaskier bowed at her without standing up and then patted the seat next to himself. “Do you want to show me how much you remember?” 

With a nod she hopped up and plunked the books down on the table in front of them, pushing the book of music they’d found to the side. “Yes! Here, okay, this one is the one I started with.” From the pile she pulled a thin, soft covered book with a purple design on the front. Inside, Jaskier saw more of that same music notation, although this time it was accompanied by a lot more words explaining it. He peered down at the page, looking over the description of the notes. There was an enlarged version of the five lines they were drawn on, plus a nice graphic that showed what each note was. 

Jaskier frowned as he looked over the page of the book. “This makes some sense, but with just the names of the notes I don’t think I’ll be able to read the music, since I don’t know what they’re supposed to sound like.” He tapped his fingers over the page once more, staring down at the page as though he’d be able to convince it to tell him its secrets. 

“Oh, wait, I had to learn a song to remember them!” Ciri wiggled in her chair, accidentally elbowing Jaskier in the side. He let out a dramatic ‘oof’ and rubbed at the spot she banged exaggeratedly and got a pout for his troubles. He grinned at her to let her know there weren’t any hard feelings and gestured at her to continue. She stuck her tongue out at him but did. “The song is pretty easy, it just lists out the notes I think.” 

Jaskier leaned back in his chair. “Well if you wouldn’t mind singing it for me I’d be grateful for the knowledge.” 

“Hmm. I’m not really that good of a singer, though.” Ciri looked away from him, back towards the book in front of them. “I can try but it might not be great.” 

Offering her a reassuring smile, Jaskier put a hand over her own on the book, patting it. “I promise you’ll be great. You’re only—” He frowned and looked her over. “How old? Twelve? Thirteen?” 

She nodded. “Twelve and a half.” 

“You’re only twelve and a half. People get better at things by doing them and you’ve simply not been alive long enough to be truly bad at anything yet, you just need more practice.” He nudged her with an elbow of his own. “Go on then, get some more practice.” 

He got a grin for his efforts and Ciri nodded, looking back at the book. “Alright. The first note is ‘do’.” She pointed to the note in the book, labeled ‘C’. “For some reason they’ve got names and letters, I don’t know why, I think it’s just to make it harder.” Jaskier stifled a grin at her huff of annoyance. “You start with ‘C’, or ‘do’.” She cleared her throat. “Do, a deer, a female deer,” she sang, her voice warbling a little with the changes that came from prepubescence. Pointing to the next letter, she continued. “Next is the letter ‘D’. That’s ‘re’.” She took a deep breath and then sung the next line of the song, “Re, a drop of golden sun—” 

Jaskier grinned as he listened to her sing the rest of the notes, outlining each note and the corresponding letter. Once she’d gone through the whole list, she sang the whole song through, going through all the notes. 

When she finished, Jaskier applauded, grinning widely. “Bravo! That was marvelous Ciri, I won’t hear you ever saying you’re not a good singer again, you’re far too talented to claim that.” She blushed a little at the compliment but gave him a shy smile of thanks. He grinned at her and then looked back down to the book. “I think I know the song now, would you like to sing it with me? So I know I’m doing it right?” 

She nodded and Jaskier held up three fingers, lowering them one at a time to signal when to start. On three, they both started singing, Jaskier adding his more trained voice to Ciri’s and smoothing out the rough edges she’d had when it was just her singing alone. They ran through the entire scale and when they finished they both cracked up into giggles, leaning against each other enjoyably. 

Ciri was the first to compose herself, pushing upright from where she’d been leaning against Jaskier’s side. She rubbed her eyes and then looked back at him. “That was fun! I think I’d have liked learning music more if you were the one teaching me.” 

Jaskier grinned back at her and ruffled her hair again. “Well considering that you still know more about it than I do, I’d say you’re the teacher here, not me.” She snickered again and batted his hand away. 

“Yeah, but I’m sure you’re going to be better at it than I am soon, if you aren’t already.” She shrugged. “I never really cared that much to learn it so if you want to take the books, you can; I’m not using them.” 

Jaskier looked at her for a moment before nodding, grinning at her. “If you’re sure, I’ll take you up on that offer, Ciri. Thank you, I’m excited to be able to learn more about reading music.” He patted her on the shoulder. “I suppose that once I’ve learned enough to be passable, I’ll have to give you a concert of your very own, then, hmm?” 

She nodded vigorously. “Yes! That would be great, Jaskier.” 

He ruffled her hair again, enjoying how she huffed when he did it, and then looked away, towards the windows. In the time they’d been there, the sun had moved quite noticeably and it was now much higher in the sky, nearly out of sight through the tall windows. Jaskier gave it a glance and then looked back to Ciri. 

“Hmm, would you say that it’s close to lunchtime?” He asked. She looked from him towards the sun as well, squinting to see where exactly it hung. 

“I think it might be, yeah. Did you want to go get lunch?” She started bouncing up and down in her seat again, her exuberance showing through the measured words. 

“Yes, if you’re hungry; I think it would be a good idea for us to head back and see about lunch.” Jaskier stood from the table and Ciri did as well, pushing her chair back forcefully. 

“Alright! Let’s go!” She was rocking on the balls of her feet and Jaskier chuckled, shaking his head. 

“Yes, we can go, but I want to put this book back and if you’re truly alright with me borrowing your music books, I’d like to drop them by my room so I’m not in danger of spilling my lunch on them.” Ciri giggled at the image and nodded at him. 

“Alright, that sounds fine.” 

Jaskier poked her in the ribs with a grin. “Fine as it may be, don’t think you have to come with me while I head back to my rooms. Just because I’ve got to take a detour doesn’t mean you have to be late for lunch, you should just go straight to the dining hall when we get close enough.” 

She frowned and then nodded. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Plus, I don’t want to get you in trouble for helping me hide from my tutors, since you’ve been so nice and all.” Jaskier’s heart melted a little and he squeezed her shoulder. 

“I appreciate that, Ciri.” He turned towards the books still on the table and gathered up the ones Ciri had brought, piling them up before closing the music book and turning to replace it on the shelf where he’d plucked it from. He noted where it was located, certain that once he was able to read music, he’d be back for it, thirsty to learn more of the songs inside. When he turned back to Ciri, having gathered the remaining books into his arms, he swept one hand towards the door. “After you, my lady.” 

She giggled and hopped over to the door, pulling it open for Jaskier so he didn’t have to shift the books in his hands around. They made good time heading in the direction of the dining hall and when they reached the fork where Jaskier was to peel off and head for his rooms, he reached over impulsively and gave her a one-armed hug, holding her against his side for a moment before letting go. 

Ciri looked up at him in surprise but then smiled and wrapped her arms around his waist for another moment. She let go almost immediately and before Jaskier could respond to that, she’d skipped away in the direction of the dining hall. Jaskier smiled and shook his head and made his way back towards his rooms to drop off his precious new books. 

He only intended on dropping the books on the table and heading back to lunch, but when he reentered his rooms his eyes caught on the brown parcel still sitting on his bed. Powerless to resist the temptation of clean, never-belonged-to-anyone-else underclothes, Jaskier put his books down and walked over to the bed. 

The string tied around the parcel untied easily and Jaskier pulled the edges of the paper back to reveal a stack of what looked like well made underclothes, all in a silky smooth fabric that flowed like water under his fingertips when he touched it. Underneath the underthings there were also a few more basic sets of pants and shirts, rounding out the few she’d already given him. The quality was much higher than he’d expected and he found himself caught between anxiety that the clothes were much too nice for the likes of him and a wanton desire to say nothing and let them be his. He decided that if worse came to worst, he’d return them if it was determined that they were too nice for him, but in the meantime he’d make full use of the silky underthings. 

Jaskier shucked his pants quickly, folding them in half and placing them on the bed before pulling on one pair of the underwear. He tugged them up his body, relishing in the softness of the fabric and the way they clung to his ass and his cock, cradling them comfortably. It was one of the nicest quality pieces of clothing Jaskier had ever worn and he shivered, enjoying the feeling of the silk cupping him. 

He felt himself start to get the stirrings of an erection and he brushed away the urge to take himself in hand through the underwear and bring himself off, dirtying up the pair he wore. Instead, he shook his head, kept his hands firmly away from his cock, and donned his pants once more. He could still feel the underwear underneath them, an entirely different feeling than the pants, but he resolved to ignore the sensation, determined to get used to it. 

Once he was clothed Jaskier left his rooms and headed towards the dining hall. When he got there he found that lunch was indeed in full swing, and both Eskel and the king sat at the high table with Ciri on the side of the king opposite Eskel. He spared a grin for her and she grinned back. 

Jaskier made his way to the high table, a little more confident this time as he slid into the empty seat next to Eskel without having to be told to. Eskel turned to smile at him before sticking another large bite of roast into his mouth. 

Lunch passed smoothly and Jaskier found himself enjoying it, making light conversation with Eskel on his left and the man who sat to his right, who he learned was one of the king’s advisors. The man—Roger, Jaskier learned—seemed pleased that Jaskier seemed able and willing to help the king regain the upper hand in their trade negotiations with the surrounding countries, and drew Jaskier into a rather interesting conversation about the differences in manners and customs between different regions. 

When the meal wound down Jaskier turned back to Eskel, wondering if the man still wanted to continue their discussion that afternoon. He found that Eskel had just turned to him as well and they grinned at each other. 

“I assume we’re on the same page about continuing to discuss our plans for next month’s visitors, then?” Eskel asked. Jaskier nodded at him. 

“I’m more than happy to, Eskel, if you’re not too busy with anything else.” 

Eskel shook his head. “No, not busy. There are always things that need tending to, but I’d rather make sure that we manage to get this right, and everything else can be dealt with after.” 

Jaskier nodded at him, understanding the urge to get it done right the once so it would be easier going forward. “Well then, lead the way.”

Chapter Text

Eskel stood and Jaskier followed him out the door behind them, both of them falling into a comfortable silence as they walked. They made good time to Eskel’s office and he gathered the papers they needed before turning and heading in the direction of the library they’d sat in the day before. 

The library was darker without the sun shining through the windows and Eskel lifted a hand when they arrived, gesturing and muttering something under his breath. The sconces that dotted the walls burst into flame, lighting up the room, and Jaskier gasped at the show. 

“How did you do that?” He sounded awed and couldn’t help the tone, he was awed at such a display of power. Eskel chuckled and took a seat at the table they’d used the day before, one over from where Ciri and Jaskier had sat that morning. 

“We have access to some magicks—not a lot, but enough to help with fighting. I’ve got a bit more control over it than most, I think I had a natural aptitude for it before the trials of the grasses and the mutations only strengthened it.” He shrugged and gestured for Jaskier to sit across from him. “It’s not all that useful outside of combat, but every once in a while I do like to show off.” He smirked as Jaskier sat and Jaskier grinned back at him. 

“Well, consider me more than a little impressed. What else can you do? If you don’t mind me asking, that is, I don’t think I’d heard about witchers having magick before.” 

Eskel shrugged, looking away from Jaskier and back down to the papers. “Eh, it’s not all that interesting really; igni, the one I just used, is for fire, there’s also aard, which is like a blast of force, like a strong wind blowing in the direction I choose, a few others, as well as—” He paused, hesitated. “There’s another sign, as well, one that we don't usually mention, since most people wouldn’t take the knowledge well. It’s called axii , and it’s...well, it’s used to control minds.” 

Jaskier’s eyes widened and he opened his mouth, ready to start in with questions. Before he could, however, Eskel held up his hands. “Before you ask, no I’d never use it unless I had a damn good reason to, and no, I wouldn’t use it on you. It’s not really—it’s not used, it’s not talked about much. Most of the times I’ve had to cast it were when I was trying to get information from someone who was being stubborn and there were lives at stake, that’s the only time I would consider it justified.” 

Jaskier frowned at him, thinking hard. “I’m not—you’re saying you can control people’s minds? Make them do whatever you want them to?” 

Eskel shrugged. “More or less. Usually it’s more of a suggestion, where for example we’ll tell the person that they should tell us what we need to know, but it can also be more than that—convincing a bandit to let a hostage go without injury, that kind of thing.” He cleared his throat. “If—if one were so inclined, it could also be used in less noble ways, but it’s a pretty tricky gamble since if it doesn’t work or the person is strong-willed, it can backfire and they they know that you’ve tried to magic them, which never ends up going well.” 

Jaskier nodded, thinking through the new information. “What does it feel like?” 

Eskel blinked at him. “What? Oh, um, I’m not—it’s been a while, we had to practice on each other, but it’s not—it’s not all that dissimilar from how you feel normally, only one is just incredibly suggestible, willing to say or do things they’re told to. Kind of like dreaming, where you don’t really know what you’re doing, so you’re willing to do whatever.” Eskel shrugged again. “But it’s—I promise, Jaskier, I’d never ever do it on someone if there wasn’t a serious risk to that person or someone else.” 

Eskel looked so earnest that Jaskier had to reach out and squeeze his bicep, needing to reassure the man. “Eskel, I have no doubts that you’d only do something like that if it was absolutely necessary.” 

Eskel lost some of the worry that furrowed his brow, giving Jaskier a grateful look. “I’m glad that you understand, Jaskier. I know that—I just don’t want you to worry, is all.” 

Jaskier shook his head. “No, I understand the need for it.” He scratched at the back of his neck. “But if you’re able to do that, to influence others, why not just use that on the ambassadors who are coming next week? You’d be able to get whatever you want from the negotiations and they wouldn’t be any the wiser.” 

Eskel frowned and then shook his head. “It’s not that simple. I can only hold axii on one or maybe two people at a time, and I’m only able to influence them while I’m holding it. There will be too many of them to be able to maintain it for any length of time, even if I have Geralt helping me, and there’s a chance it would backfire anyway.” He shivered. “I can’t imagine how the talks would go down if one of the spells didn’t work right and they became aware that we’d been trying to magically influence them.” He shook his head again. “That sounds like it could only lead to bad outcomes. No, I think we have to figure it out the old fashioned way; trying to get on their good sides and hoping for the best.” 

His points were solid and Jaskier found himself nodding. “I can see how that would be bad, yes. Alright, well then, let’s—where did you want to start today?” 

Eskel glanced back down towards the papers. “Hmm, I was hoping you’d be able to help me figure out what the Redanians absolutely need to get and what we might be able to flip them on. Since you know more about the country and their current problems, you probably know what they most want and what they’re indifferent on.” 

Jaskier nodded. “That makes sense, go ahead.” 

“So, we know that they’re already interested in and currently buying our steel, and so that’s something we can leverage over them. Rivia isn’t well known for our bountiful cropland—” Eskel grimaced. “But we are well located for a lot of the trade routes that go through the southern countries and north towards Redania. I’m sure that through some strategic purchasing and tariffs, we could either make their lives a lot easier or a lot harder. Do you know what kinds of things they import a lot of from the south? And what they need, vs. want?” 

Jaskier frowned, thinking it over. “I’m not sure that there are any specific food crops that they need from the south, since Redania is fairly well off in terms of farming, but then again I spent most of my time in palaces so I wouldn’t have a great idea about what the actual people of the country need.” He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. “I have to say that any of the finer, more difficult to grow crops would be prized up there, so if you stop all the shipments of tropical fruits and other foods, you’d probably be able to make them pretty angry.” 

Eskel nodded, scribbling something down. “Good, that’s good. Anything else?” 

The two of them kept talking about the best ways to put pressure on Redania, working on their plans late into the afternoon. When Jaskier looked up to see that the sun was setting he was surprised to realize that his stomach was growling at him. He’d been so involved in their planning and the discussion that he hadn’t noticed himself getting hungry but when he looked back to Eskel he found the witcher grinning at him. 

“Time for dinner?” Eskel asked, and Jaskier flushed but nodded at him. “Well I think we got some good things figured out, I’m much less worried about next week.” He grinned and Jaskier grinned back, glad to help. 

They gathered their things and headed for dinner, chatting amicably as they walked. When they parted so Eskel could drop the papers off in his study, Jaskier made his way to the dining hall and took his now customary seat next to Eskel’s chair. The king was there already and nodded at him before going back to eating, not trying to engage Jaskier in conversation. Not that Jaskier thought he would, of course, he hadn’t seen the king be anything close to chatty with anyone other than Eskel, and even then, ‘chatty’ for the man still involved a lot of weighty silences and hums instead of words. 

Eskel arrived a few minutes later and gave Jaskier a grin when he saw him already seated and eating. He slid into his chair between Jaskier and the king and murmured a hello to both before turning to Jaskier. “I’m glad you sat before me.” 

Jaskier flushed, looking back to his food. Eskel hadn’t mentioned anything about Jaskier moving seats so he wasn’t at the high table with them, now that they could trust him not to run his mouth, but he was still waiting for that day to come. “Yes, well, I hoped it wouldn’t have been too large an imposition. I can move, though, if you wanted me to—” 

Eskel cut him off before he could really get started. “No, no, you’re absolutely fine. I wasn’t trying to imply anything, I’m just glad you found your seat.” 

Jaskier nodded and quieted, not looking up from his food. The urge to offer to move was still strong but he stomped on it. If Eskel was fine with it, he was fine with it—Eskel wouldn’t let Jaskier sit up there just to berate him about it later; at least, Jaskier was fairly sure. 

He only really relaxed when Eskel turned his focus away, grabbing dishes and inquiring with the king about something or other. 

After the meal was finished, Jaskier excused himself, eager to get back to his room to study the music books he’d been lent. Eskel looked at him with some confusion but didn’t comment, just nodding as Jaskier made his way out of the hall. 

Safely ensconced in his rooms once more Jaskier finally cracked open the books Ciri lent him, determined to learn the names of all of the notes and their denotations on the page. He was so invested in his readings (and trying to sound out what the different practice melodies would be with only his voice) that he only heard the knock at his door when he paused, frustrated with his inability to read music and sing at the same time. 

The sound was loud and sounded like it might not have been the person’s first knock, so Jaskier jumped up, already turning towards the door as soon as he realized. Keeping someone waiting wasn’t a good idea at the best of times and Jaskier didn’t bother to wonder at who it might be, too focused on unlocking the door and pulling it open. 

When he finally got the door open, Jaskier was shocked to find none other than the king standing in front of his door, looking grumpy as ever. He swallowed and bowed his head towards the king, wondering what the man wanted with him. 

“Um, hello, uh, your highness. What—may I ask, what has brought you here tonight?” Jaskier’s hands were shaking and he stared at the floor, reverting to a more formal speech pattern in his sudden and complete confusion about why the king stood in front of him. If he had decided he wanted to make use of Jaskier despite his earlier declarations, Jaskier wouldn’t have many options but to go along with it. 

The king looked him over and raised an eyebrow. Jaskier started sweating. “I, um, right, yes, I should have, would you like to come inside, my lord?” Jaskier gestured to the interior of the room, hoping desperately that the other man would deny the offer. 

The king shook his head and Jaskier fought the urge to sigh audibly. “No, it’s fine, I just—” He fell silent for a moment and Jaskier had to bite his lip so hard he nearly broke skin in order to not interrupt while the king chose his words. “I’ll be quick.” he finished, and Jaskier nodded. 

“Of course. What can I—what is it that you needed?” 

The king frowned harder, looking up at Jaskier’s face before looking away and to the side. Jaskier knew he wasn’t much for talking but this seemed harder for him than previously and his still-too-fast heart went out to the poor man. He shut his mouth, silently wishing the man luck in getting out what he had to say. 

The king shifted his weight and sighed and then looked at Jaskier once more. “Ciri mentioned that you helped her hide from her tutors today.” 

All of the blood drained from Jaskier’s face and he abruptly felt ill, reaching out a hand to steady himself against the doorframe. He tensed his legs, fight or flight taking over, but managed to respond with a somewhat normal tone of voice. “Oh, I hadn’t realized she’d have—she’d tell you. Not that, of course, I wouldn’t expect her to keep it from you, she’s your daughter—and I—” Gods, he really might be sick, just thinking about the possible consequences the king was planning for him. “I did help her, yes, I admit to it. She—she asked if I’d let her tag along since nobody would think to look for her with me, and I—I couldn’t tell her no.” 

At that, the king actually snorted out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a laugh before calming himself once more. Jaskier looked at him, puzzled enough to distract from the pit of worry that had taken hold in his gut. Some of the worry drained away when the king offered him a small, wry smile. 

“I find it very hard to say no when she asks me for things as well.” His tone was amused and Jaskier paused, unsure why the king was there at all. He knew that Jaskier had helped his daughter escape her duties, but he didn’t seem all that interested in making him pay for the transgression. If not to reprimand him, Jaskier was lost as to why he was there. He frowned and the king shook his head, dropping his smile as well. “But that’s not what I came for.” He shifted his weight again, looking uncomfortable (as was his wont). “I wanted to thank you. It sounded like Ciri had a great morning, and she really enjoyed talking about music with you. She’s asked if she could try to learn an instrument again, and said that seeing how excited you were made her want to give it another go.” 

The king paused and it was all Jaskier could do not to gape at him in surprise. Of all the things he’d expected the king to do in response to learning that Jaskier helped Ciri play truant, thanking him was not among them. Hanging him up by his thumbs, maybe, or having him whipped. Not the seemingly genuine and awkward thanks that the king was stumbling over, not ever. 

Before Jaskier could even try to stammer out a response, the king continued. “She’s been miserable with her tutors since they insist on teaching her the things they think a future queen needs to know. I’m not—I wasn’t raised for this, I don’t know most of what they’re trying to stuff into her head but I...I’m glad she was able to have a day to just be a kid and sneak off. Thank you for watching over her.” The king looked frustrated with his own discomfort at expressing how he felt but he pushed through it, finishing the small monologue with a scowl that didn’t match his tone or his words.  

Jaskier hesitated, not sure what he could even say to that. “I—I’m glad, then, that she had a good time. I agree that kids should have some time to just be kids, and it sounds like you want the best for her.” He smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring to the other man. “You’ve done a wonderful job raising her, she seems like a lovely girl and I was glad to spend the morning talking about music with her.” 

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to mention that she’d loaned him her music books, uncertain whether the king would insist he give them back to her now that she wanted to learn to play. Before Jaskier could decide whether or not to offer, the king turned slightly and bent down to pick up something resting against the wall. When he straightened and held it out, Jaskier saw that it was a lute—beautifully carved, ornate and elvish looking. Jaskier looked at it longingly but made no move to touch, content just to see. 

The king shook the lute a little and Jaskier looked up to meet his eyes, uncertain what the man was trying to say. He grunted and rolled his eyes at Jaskier. “Go on, take it. It’s not a trap.” Jaskier would be the judge of that, thank you very much, but he did reach for the lute, gingerly wrapping his hands around the sturdy wooden neck and base. The instrument was even more beautiful up close and he looked at it in wonder, holding it so he could inspect the carvings. There were words but they weren’t written in common, the characters looked to be elvish. 

When Jaskier looked away from the instrument and back to the king, he fixed the man with a look. “I don’t understand. What—why? What is this?” 

The king grunted again and shrugged, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. “It’s a lute.” 

The short and unhelpful answer made Jaskier roll his eyes. “Yes, I can see that much. Why have you handed it to me?” 

Geralt looked even more uncomfortable. “It’s—Ciri suggested you might like it, since you don’t have one of your own.” He shifted his weight some more. “You’d said that you could play one before, and we were going to find one for you.” Gesturing towards the lute in Jaskier’s hand, he shrugged again. “That’s it. It’s yours, if you want it.” 

Jaskier’s hands curled more tightly around the body of the lute, holding it closer to himself even as he shook his head. “No, it’s—my lord, this is beautiful , it’s—you can’t give me this, it’s got to be priceless. I’d be fine with a battered old lute, not one—not something like this. I can’t accept it.” 

The king’s eyes traveled down to where Jaskier held the lute against his chest, hands idly caressing the carvings etched into the wood. “Seems like you already have.” Before Jaskier could protest or try to hand the lute back, he waved a lazy hand at the instrument. “It was gathering dust in a storage room, it’ll be better off in your hands than being neglected.” 

Jaskier frowned but still made no move to hand the lute back, looking down at the piece of art in his arms. “I—I don’t know what to say, it’s—it really is too much, my lord, I’m not—you didn’t need to—” 

The king shook his head. “No, I didn’t, but you didn’t need to indulge my daughter either, and you did. So keep the lute, and you can show your thanks by playing it sometime, maybe for the hall after dinner some night.” The thought made the hairs on the back of Jaskier’s neck stand up and he wasn’t sure whether it was worry or excitement at the prospect. He nodded slowly, still eying the king. 

“If—if you’re sure, then. It’s—it’s a beautiful piece, is it elven?” Jaskier asked. 

Geralt shrugged. “Yeah, I got it as a gift from Filavandrel after I declared that the elves were welcome in Rivia. They set up their own settlement high up in the mountains and seem to be doing quite well for themselves, and he was grateful for the chance to rebuild.” 

Jaskier gaped at him, unsure if he’d actually heard the words he thought he heard. “This lute belonged to the king of the elves ? And you’re—you’re actually giving it to me ? My lord, you can’t —” 

The king held up a hand. “I can. It’s already done. If you don’t wish to own it, you’re more than welcome to sell it, although I wouldn’t even know who to ask about selling it, or what a fair price for it would be.” 

Jaskier felt a sob building up in his chest and he cleared his throat, trying to stop it. “I—thank you, then. I’ll take the best care of it that I can.” He’d never sell it, not in a million years—Jaskier would go back to selling his body first. 

The king nodded at him and then continued to look awkward. “Yes, well.” His taciturn inability to speak more than a few words at a time seemed to have returned and Jaskier felt the need to spare him any more awkwardness. 

“Right, yes. Thank you, my lord, for this—this wonderful gift.” Jaskier hesitated, biting his lip. “I’m—I was probably going to sleep soon, though, so if you didn’t have anything more to discuss—?” He let the question stretch, open-ended, and the king gave him a grateful look before shaking his head. 

“No, that was it. I’m glad you like it.” He nodded to the lute in Jaskier’s hands. “And I hope to hear you play at some point.” He took a step back from the door. “Good night, Jaskier.” 

Jaskier’s hands tightened on the lute. “G-Good night. Uh, my lord.” He ducked his head again and the king just grunted once more before turning and making his way back down the hall. Once his back was turned, Jaskier stepped back into his room, closing and locking the door quickly. He took a deep breath before letting it out in a woosh, his eyes closing against the shaking of his knees. “What the fuck just happened.” 

He got no answer from the empty room and when Jaskier opened his eyes once more the room was the same as it had ever been. With one more glance down at the lute cradled in his arms to make sure he wasn’t imaging it, Jaskier shook himself. 

“You’re a person now. It’s perfectly reasonable to give things to a person. You don’t—you deserve a gift of thanks just as much as anyone else does.” Jaskier didn’t believe the words he was saying but he said them anyway, trying to convince himself. It only partly worked.