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Chapter Text

Sentry duty is the most boring chore there is, and Gweld’s least favorite. It means he has to practically stand still all day at the foot of the mountain with nothing to do but watch people at the edge of town and make sure there’s no threat stupid enough to try and get into Kaer Morhen. Ever since Geralt, crazy fucker that he is, brought all seven schools together to kill the king of Kaedwen, and then sweeping through the North killing Monsters and Monstrous Men alike, life has gotten a lot more interesting. It's not just Witchers that live at Kaer Morhen now, but also human servants that don't smell like fear, mages who're actually decent people, craftspeople of several races, Geralt's fierce cub, several human lovers to Witchers, and the ever growing strange collection of nobles who've decided to stay. If anyone had told Gweld thirty years ago that there would be people praising Witchers when they come into town in groups on routine patrol, singing songs claiming them as heroes, he would've called them madder than a cat and sent them on their way.

Despite his dislike of the stillness, settling into a routine watch shift at the base of the mountain is a pleasant change after the horrible discovery of mages experimenting on Aren of the Manticores and using his blood to make new Witchers. Which killed over a hundred young women and girls except for four which he considers daughters, his newly dubbed ‘Manti-kittens’. This discovery by the new Duke of Velen who informed Milena, the cub's lady in waiting and Lambert's mate , which lead to the White Wolf killing king Vizimir and conquering the rest of Redania.

At least it looks that way, until Gweld’s shift is interrupted by a rather plain androgynous man in warm thick traveling clothes separates from the crowd and walks directly up to him and Serrit asking, “Hello, um, are you who I talk to if I want an audience with the White Wolf or the closest advisor he has that could give me answers?”.

Gweld shares a look with Serrit, doesn’t look or smell like they have an emergency, but people don’t usually ask if they can talk directly to the Wolf so this should be interesting. Gweld looks back at the strange young man (?) in front of him, “Yes, what do you need to ask the Wolf?”.

The strange young man is several inches shorter than he is, with dark wavy curly hair and very blue eyes. He’s wearing a plain but durable leather coat over a couple layers of shirts, with thick warm pants and good boots. He smells nervous and then seems to settle into determination, “I knew a Witcher years ago and came to see if he’s here, if I could see him again.”

Gweld cocks an eyebrow, “Do ya have a name for him? Or at least a school?”

The strange young man gives a small wistful smile looking not quite at them. He smells of honey on warm bread, love, but also the sour tang of longing sadness, “Reim, of the Wolf school”. He comes back to himself and looks at Gweld’s medallion, “One of your brothers looks like. Almost mistook you for him from a distance what with the red hair, but you’re taller than he is, broader too.”

That throws him for a loop, thought he doesn’t let it show on his face, Reim is 1 of his least social brothers. Which is saying something since he’s pretty sure Geralt usually has a max word count per day. Serrit tosses him another look of confusion and ‘What the Fuck’ that he can only parse from spending years reading whether she’s about to kiss him or stab him. Looking back at the stranger, “Yeah, he’s here. Did you want ta see any of the others from his patrol, whenever ya met him?”

Stranger tilts his head in confusion, “Patrol? I thought Witchers travelled alone? Though I had heard of multiple Witchers being sent to deal with 1 problem or another, so I suppose it makes sense to do rounds of the Warlord’s territories. Anyway no, I didn’t meet him on a patrol. I patched him up a couple times before all the warlord stuff happened.”

Serrit snorts derisively and raises a skeptical eyebrow at him, “You can’t have been more than a babe or a wee lad then.”

The stranger puffs up indignantly like he’s about to correct Serrit, unwise and likely to get him stabbed. Then a look of realization hits him, “Ah yes; almost forgot…”, he trails off as he reaches up to take a necklace off. Instantly there’s a smell of chaos in the air, Mage. Serrit and Gweld both reach for the closest knife or sword. The unknown mage puts his hands up in surrender with only the necklace in it, “Now you can see how I could know him before the Warlord started. Shackles or collar?”

“What?”, Gweld says.

Unknown mage lowers his hands slowly to be held in front of him, offering his wrists, “Are you using Dimeritium shackles or a collar? I’m not stupid enough to think you’ll let an unknown mage in without them. If you do both prepare to carry me cuz I won’t be able to walk. Prefer the shackles honestly, collar being too tight usually.”

Gweld looks at him incredulously, “We ain’t gonna collar ya like some animal. To be honest you’re the first mage we’ve had approach since the Wolf’s mages swore themselves to him. Don’ really have a protocol in place.”, he scratches the back of his head sheepishly for the last part. Serrit still has her hand on the hilt of her knife staring at the mage warily.

The mage looks back at them in shock, his mouth hanging open, “What do you mean no protocols in place? I mean I don’t intend harm to anyone unless in my own self defense, but what if I had been one of those slimy court mages? Would you have just looked at him and gone, ‘excuse me Mr. Slimy Bastard could you please play nice and not try to do anything nefarious for your own gain’? They’ll abide by that for all of 5 seconds!”, his hands wave about gesturing wildly.

Gweld snorts at his impression. Serrit raises an eyebrow, “You’re telling the truth. Why?”

The mage raises an eyebrow back at her, “Why the fuck would I risk the only chance I have for finding the man I’ve spent so long looking for? My best case scenario is to stay and swear myself to the White Wolf so I can become reacquainted with Reim. Bit hard to do that if I go doing something stupid like lying to Witchers or trying to do someone harm within the keep.”

Gweld looks at Serrit a bit lost on how to handle this. Serrit rolls her eyes and huffs at Gweld before looking back at the mage, “What’s your name then mage?”.

The mage grins and gives a dramatic bow like he’s in a theatre troupe, “I am called Arin Noir. Though I also go by other names, but I’d prefer to be in the keep before disclosing those.”

Serrit raises her eyebrow at him again for that, but Gweld cannot smell a lie in anything he said. Serrit looks past the mage towards some Witchers still doing business in the market, not bothering to speak above a normal tone, “Gardis, Brehen, finish up and come watch the gatehouse while we escort this one up the trail. Gweld call the keep and tell them we’re coming with a possible new mage. Ask if we have any wearable Dimeritium til he swears the oath and the council deals with him.”, all 3 Witchers nod and do as she asked. Striding over the few feet to the tiny cramped gatehouse Gweld grabs the xenovox to alert the keep. He watches her focus back on the mage from the small distance, “You ride mage? Or are ye walking the whole way up?”

“I’m not great at riding, but if that’s the fastest way up the mountain I’ll manage”, Arin doesn’t rise to her baiting remark and replies earnestly.

Serrit still seems wary, “We’ll have to sleep on the trail overnight since it’s past midday startin the trail.”

Arin shrugs, “I have my sleeping roll. Won’t be any different than any other night on the road. Sleep better too, since I won’t have to worry about bandits or predators in the middle of the night.”

Gweld walks back over to find Serrit still giving ‘Arin’ a measuring assessing glare, “Keep’s been alerted of our guest and is looking for something made of Dimeritium for him to wear once we get there. Knowing Jan they’ll have found or improvised something in a couple hours. Meanwhile we should get you set up with a horse.”

Arin nods, “The sooner we can get there the better.”

Gweld grins at him, “In a rush?”

Arin sighs, “Hardly, just tired of waiting when I’m finally so close to finding him.”

Gweld gives him a more mischievous grin, “Well, fastest way up the mountain is for one of us to carry you. Could get there in a couple hours that way”, Serrit glares at him in what he knows is a sign that he should stop talking. Shouldn’t matter, the mage isn’t gonna take him up on it.

Arin looks back and forth between the 2 of them, “I mean, that would be fine, but only if she’s the one carrying me.”

Both Witchers are taken aback by this. Serrit asks suspiciously, “And why the hell is that?”

Arin looks at her, “Cuz if he (points at Gweld) carries me I’m not sure you’ll let me get to that meeting with the Wolf with all of my limbs intact. Prefer not to be stabbed if it’s all the same to you.”

There’s a snort from Brehen as Gardis and he walk over. While his amusement isn’t visibly apparent, Gardis definitely smells like it.

Serrit glares at them both then back at ‘Arin’ with heavy skepticism in her tone, “And it’s definitely not because you want to accidentally touch somewhere you’re not supposed to?”

The still rather confusing young mage shrugs, “It really isn’t. ‘M not interested in women. Definitely admire and appreciate them visually as beautiful people, but no interest physically or romantically. Only been attracted to men, but even then it’s rare that I actually want to do anything with anyone”, he says all in a nonchalant tone while smelling and sounding only of truth. “If Red here ends up carrying me, I make no promises about unconscious reactions or if I mistake you for Reim when I’m tired. Personally I’d just prefer to save myself the embarrassment and potential stabbing”.

Gweld looks at Serrit to see what she thinks, and to confirm what he’s smelling. With a reluctant eye roll and a huff Serrit gives Gweld a ‘you Owe me’ look before looking back at the mage, “Fine then, I’ll carry you up the mountain. But if you try anything, and I do mean Anything, I’m gutting you or tossing you off the mountain.”

Arin nods with an agreeable look, “Seems reasonable. Do you want me to put the necklace back on, or keep it off?”

Scrunching her nose in distaste even as she says it, Serrit almost growls, “Off.”. She scoops him up bridal style, getting a squeak of surprise, before looking exasperatedly at Gweld, “Lets get this over with.”

Gweld just gives her a fond look back, his fierce prickly viper.

Chapter Text

Eskel is very confused as to why Yen and Jaskier are summoning the small council for a meeting half a glass before supper when they had already handled the day’s business that morning. It is especially worrisome as both of them smell of caution and wariness, “What’s this about Yen? Catmint?”.

Jaskier looks towards Yen to start, “Just after midday we got a xenovox message from the base of the mountain that there was a mage here to ask for an audience with the Wolf and his council. Aparently he knew a wolf named Reim before this whole Warlord thing started and has been looking for him for quite a while.”

Eskel tenses and looks at Geralt. He’s also gone stiff as a board, clenching his fists. Haven’t mages done enough to his favorite brother? Well, second favorite after Geralt and that is a very different kind of love. Ivar, Vesemir, and Rennes all tense as well, Vesemir’s hackles raising from the way he sits up straighter and glares at both Ivar and Rennes. Treyse looks somewhat lost on why everyone is tense at the name, but is on high alert from the others being so tense.

Yen continues on, “He clearly hasn’t been in the North much or at least not anywhere near the Wolflands because he didn’t know that Witchers go out on patrols in groups. He’s already sworn to do no harm to anyone in the keep, and came here expecting to be escorted up the mountain in Dimeritium shackles or collared like an animal. Since we’ve never had something like this before, the guards on duty didn’t have any, but a pair has been brought to the front gate for when they get here shortly.”

Eskel raises an eyebrow skeptically, “Who’s on duty? And how did they get up the trail so fast? Even on horseback it’d take stopping overnight to get all the way up the trail.”

Yen turns to Jaskier to answer that one, to which he sits up straighter with a serious tone, “Gweld and Serrit are on duty. Gweld apparently made a joke that got taken seriously, and so now Serrit is carrying him up the mountain to ensure he could see us and be dealt with as swiftly as possible.”

Eskel isn’t the only one baffled or disbelieving about this turn of events. Treyse pipes up, “Serrit? Carrying a mage, up the mountain? Stab you if you compliment her or look at her too funny? That Serrit? Of the Vipers.”

Jaskier quirks his lips, “According to Gardis, yes. He and Brehen were nearby and are now covering the guard. There were several threats involved, but apparently she’s carrying him because he didn’t want to be stabbed for finding Gweld attractive while being carried up a mountain by him.”.

Vesemir sighs shaking his head while Treyse laughs and says, “Yeah, she would.”

Eskel glances at Geralt to see that he’s relaxed some, but still has his fists clenched. Eskel looks back at Jask and Yen still skeptical, “What was he like, this weird mage?”

Jask looks vaguely amused, “Well apparently there was a bit of confusion on whether he IS a he. As he is very androgynous looking. From the sounds of it you could mistake him for a woman wearing trousers were his voice not lower and responding to he and him. He was apparently very sassy but polite and straightforward. Actually he was rather aghast that we didn’t have a solution already in place for this in case of, and I quote slimy court mages”. Jask composes himself back into his more neutral expression, “No the strangest thing that Gweld reported was that when they asked about Reim, the mage got this far off misty look about him and started smelling like honey on warm bread and a more sour smell he said means longing or sadness.”

There is confusion and surprise noted in almost everyone, while Mouse takes notes rapidly, most of them don’t show it. The room is quiet for a moment while people think until Vesemir speaks with such quiet fury as Eskel’s only ever heard three times before in his eighty odd years of life, “I don't care how polite he was, if he had anything to do with how or why Reim came back in such bad shape all those years ago. I'm skinning him alive.”

Everyone except Rennes looks at Vesemir with a level of surprise. Not that it's very visible on Ivar or Geralt, but there all the same.

"And what exactly happened to him?" Ivar asks.

Vesemir sneers at him, "Wouldn't you fucking well like to know. That's his business, and if he hasn't told you I ain't gonna. You lost any rights to information about him when you dam near poisoned him to death with that concoction you had him taking. He’s my pup now, not your snakelet."

Ivar snarls back at him, but before it can become an actual fight there's a knock at the office door. Everyone looks towards the door, none of them had noticed anyone approach. "Enter", Eskel calls out.

Gweld opens the door and leads the group in, followed by a young man in Dimeritium handcuffs, with Serrit bringing up the rear. They stop just in front of the opposite side of the table from Geralt, with Treyse, Triss, and Ivar closest to them. Gweld nods towards us as he speaks first, "Wolf, council, we've brought this mage who claims to know our brother Reim, to meet you to see what he wants. He calls himself Arin Noir, though he also said he goes by other names but would not disclose them til we got to the keep." Gweld doesn’t seem very on edge, but he stands firm as he and Serrit step back towards the door, they aren’t leaving without answers.

The mage bows as a greeting, as well as one can in shackles, though it looks more theatrical then courtly from what Eskel can tell. He starts talking before any of them can ask anything, "Pleasure to meet you all. Now let's see if I can get names right on the first try as I can recognize most of you from stories. Rennes, head of the wolf school; Vesemir the wolves' sword master. Of course Eskel and Geralt of the bumblebee incident, Mr. Mighty Warlord and his right hand. Julek, lovely to see you again dear. Sorry I missed your graduation, I was in Toussaint and didn't have enough time to get back to Oxenfurt. And then last but not least, the terrifying Yennefer of Vengerburg and Triss Merigold. I only know the two of you by reputation as I make it a rule to avoid all mages at all costs."

Eskel is surprised, and he can see he's not the only one, this mage speaks with a level of familiarity he should have no way of having. Very few people let alone non-Witchers know about the bumblebee incident when they were trainees. And Vesemir's been more than Sword Master for years now. More importantly how does he know Catmint? And what kind of mage avoids all other mages?

"I'm sorry I've never seen you before in my life. Why would you have been at my graduation?", unsurprisingly it is Jaskier who responds first.

"Why Jacenty! Have you forgotten my lecture already? I'm hurt! I bet I can still name your top three books from that smutty bookstore.", the unknown mage has a smug smile. There is a tingle of magic enough for medallions to buzz, as he brings both hands up to push up over his face and down his hair. He now looks very different and much more feminine, with makeup and much lighter chestnut hair.

At the use of magic, even with the handcuffs, every Witcher reaches for a knife. Yenn stands up while Triss holds her hands up, ready to counter anything else he can pull. Eskel is baffled, though he doesn’t show it, at how this mage is managing any sort of magic through the Dimeritium. It should be impossible! Even if the spell was minuscule, the fact that he managed anything means he might be able to do more.

Eskel is jolted out of his thoughts by Jaskier’s gasp of recognition and whine of petulance, "Stop calling me that! You're gonna jinx me! And I've already had two close calls too many. Nita, where've you been? Besides Toussaint", Jaskier sounds particularly petulant and indignant, the fake kind when bantering with friends and loved ones. Eskel looks at Jaskier with raised eyebrows at the quick turnaround.

Yennefer looks at Jaskier pointedly, "Flower, as interesting as this direction of conversation is. Might we get back on topic of why they're here and how you know them?"

Jask blushes and mutters a contrite "Right. Only three people I knew before I came here were close enough to tease me with pet names based on my chosen name. Nita was the only one who would call me Jacenty, another word for Hyacinth, which means tragic death in Redanian flower language. They would tease me with it cuz of my apparent lack of self preservation."

The mage's smile slips back into a calmer neutral expression with a touch of fondness, while also dropping the glamour, "Yes of course. Though you're telling me about those close calls so I know who I'm stabbing. Don't give a shit if he's Warlord of the North, if he's hurt you he's getting stabbed." Eskel can't decide whether to be upset at the threat or implication that Geralt would hurt their Catmint; or impressed that someone would try to stab Geralt for Jaskier.

Jaskier lets out a mortified groan, "Nita! Stop that. He's been nothing but a perfect gentleman! Both times were from a crazy Temerian princess that I’ll tell you about later if all goes well."

The once again walnut brown haired mage holds his hands up in surrender, "Just making sure. As for who I am, and why I'm here. Hmmm, might as well give you the actual truth of it so you know why. Anyway, my name is Bennett ap Ambrose of the Ambrose players, born in 1138. Not that that matters since they're all dead and have been for decades. But it is where my stage name Ambrosia comes from. As well as the name Julek knows me by, Benita as a feminine version. I know him because I did a guest lecture at Oxenfurt and played most of the taverns and brothels there during his junior or senior year. Took him under my wing as a mentee or little brother." Eskel can’t smell or hear a single lie from him, but if he knows about Witcher senses he could figure out ways around that. Though he doesn’t bother to hide his fondness for Catmint or the other confusing flashes of emotion his scent lets through when he talks about his origins.

"Alright that explains how you know our bard. Now what does a mage like you want with Reim?", Vesemir growls lowly in an underlying threat.

The mage focuses on him, keeping his back straight and meeting Vesemir’s eyes calmly and evenly, "As I said at the bottom of the mountain, I want to see him again. Makes sure he's alive and well. If possible, do whatever I can to stay and get to know him again after fifty years.". He still smells and sounds like he’s telling the truth as far as Eskel can tell. Though the timing is just too close to when Reim was hurt for it to be coincidence. Reim never would’ve gone to a mage for healing, especially so soon after whatever happened to him.

Vesemir's glare hardens, his voice sharp and steely, "So you were involved with the mage that tortured him for Ten years. Give me ONE good reason why I shouldn't skin you alive where you stand."

Shouts of outrage and confusion arise from those who don't know what happened to Reim. Jaskier looks at the mage with betrayal, imploring him to deny it. Eskel doesn’t know how close the two of them were, but if this mage is part of the reason Reim was almost dead on his feet when he came back to the keep that winter, there’s nothing he can or would do to help him. All he can do is listen and comfort Jask later.

The now named Bennett's eyes narrow, and his lips curl into to a snarl at Vesemir, "Because if it wasn't for Me, he never would've survived past the first year! Much less escaped and made it home.". Truth. But just because he believes it, does not make it true. The mage looks furious, but keeps his composure and posture almost painfully straight as a pin.

Vesemir continues his sharp and steely tone, “Mmm, probably only so that the tests and torture could go on longer. Can’t learn as much from the dead as you can from the living. You’re from Ban Aard, Northern accent and courtly mannerisms they teach their ilk gives it away. They teach their research mages in just such a manner so as to learn as much as possible from their subjects. Try again.”

The mage’s fists clench into a white-knuckled grip where they’re resting one on top of the other in front of him, “I never participated in the torture or the experiments. That was all my mentor. I as his apprentice was tasked with cleaning up after him. What I chose to do instead was heal Reim as best I could without being noticed, and get him extra food when I could. The flaw in your analysis of me keeping him alive for more pain, is that I helped him escape and got him out of that hellhole”. He keeps his focus solely on Vesemir, though his tone is straining at politeness through the anger.

Ivar scoffs, "And why would a Ban Aard Bastard like you have helped a Witcher?"

The mage SLAMs his hands on the table, the chains rattling as they hit the edge of it, "FUCK BAN AARD!! May it burn to the ground with all the fuckers in it!!", he turns his head and spits on the ground.

The entire council room freezes in shock, hands already on at least one weapon in anticipation of this unknown mage’s next move. Eskel and Geralt have pushed Jaskier, their precious Catmint, behind them so he doesn’t try to do anything foolish like try and defend his “friend”.

The mage, Bennett seems to pant for a breath or two, reigning himself in with his head hung in defeat. He takes a deep ragged breath, before speaking much softer in a calm but pained tone, “I never wanted to be a mage. I was perfectly content to stay with my family, traveling the continent playing music for crowds and woodland creatures, kissing cute boys when I could. But NO, I was kidnapped at fifteen by a mage saying I had great magical potential that shouldn’t be wasted. He took me to his private laboratory and trained me there.”.

He looks up at Vesemir, Rennes, and Ivar with a defiant glare as he continues, “I tried to escape several times, always dragged back, until he sealed the place from any and all exit but through portal. My choices then were to starve, isolated in a locked room with nothing but a bed and a chamber pot. Or, accept his generous offer to learn magic and become his apprentice. As I’m sure you’re familiar with Sirs, starvation and isolation are convincing motivators for teenage boys. So I accepted, and spent every moment of the next twenty years figuring out how to get away from him”. His face and tone sound as though he’s describing the most foul sewer, while wishing he could spit actual venom at the school heads and Vesemir. Yet still not a single lie. Eskel doesn’t like being reminded of the faux choice he and most other Witchers had as trainees of train and stay or die. He can only thank that things are different now with Geralt as Warlord.

“What does this have to do with Reim?” Vesemir asks warily.

Bennett takes another deep breath, standing back up and refolding his hands in front of him, “Because I was preparing arguments to finally leave with my training complete, when he brought in a new captive. He’d apparently gotten tired of human experiments and decided to try figuring out what made Witchers tick. That was when he brought Reim in, keeping him in Dimeritium chains and drugged, starved, or weakened except for during sessions”. He glares back up at Ivar, “I don’t give a shit what you think, I wasn’t going to leave him there alone to be tortured and killed by a heartless madman.”

“What human experiments? Human experiments have been forbidden for decades by the Conclave”, Triss questions him urgently.

Bennett sighs resigned, “He did human experiments during my entire training. Often rituals or alchemical trials. I only know what the effects were, not the methods. He would make me sit in the room next door and listen to the screams during sessions, only going in to set up, clean up, or do an autopsy”, he closes his eyes in a haunted look.

“Autopsies?”, Treyse asks.

“Yes. Sick fucker taught and had me do the autopsies to see where each trial had failed, and at what caused that person to die as a learning experience.”, he spits off to the side again as if the words tasted so foul, that was the only way to get rid of it.

Yennefer huffs, “We’re getting off topic again. While unfortunate, we can’t do anything about people who died seventy or eighty years ago.”, Yennefer has calmed her stance but is holding onto the back of her chair now instead of sitting back down.

Triss has also settled back into her chair, but is still on guard. Cautiously Triss asks, “Was he affiliated with the Brotherhood of Sorcerers? Or the Conclave? If you were traveling through the North at the time, he was supposed to take you to Ban Aard to train with others your age.”

Bennett scoffs, “Didn’t seem to matter to him. The only reprieves I ever got were when he was away for weeks or months at court or his precious school.”

Yenn looks at him skeptically, “If you’d finished your training and actually cared about Reim as you say, then why did it take you ten years to get him out? Why didn’t you just portal him out?”

Bennett turns to look at her, “Why are you asking instead of just taking it from my head like you have everything else?”

“To see if you’ll actually tell them the truth. And it becomes much easier to find if you’re prompted into thinking of it.” Yennefer replies smoothly.

Bennett rolls his eyes, “Mages. I didn’t portal Reim out the first year because my mentor didn’t fucking teach me the portal spell. He kept those locked up in his private office with the other mastery level spells or anything else he didn’t want me learning, like mind reading. I could teleport, but he said that with my specialties I wouldn’t need to know the portal spell. Truth was he was a controlling bastard that didn’t want his little power source getting away”, he mutters the last part with bitter resentment.

The next question comes from Rennes, “Then how was it he got out and you weren’t with him after ten years?”, he asked in that calm quiet rumble that was stern and implied more than he was saying. As always sounding like he already knew something, making those he questioned aware he would know either way.

Bennett takes another deep breath, then another, he was starting to sweat a little, “I broke into his office after the worst session yet and tore out the pages for the portal spell to teach myself so I could get him out. I stalled for as long as I could to get Reim time to recover from it before what was suppose to be Our escape. Things went sideways as my mentor got back too early. As it was only my first couple attempts at portals, in my own weakened state, I tossed Reim through the portal focussing on getting him Away. I had gathered as much of his armor and gear as I could find and gave him his swords back. But he was still pretty out of it as I couldn’t give him any potions since I didn’t know the recipes”.

Eskel notices he’s leaning more heavily to one side than the other, breathing slightly deeper, hands clenched tighter. He can’t tell why the mage is under such strain, there is no physical sign or reason for him to be this strained during this conversation. Unless it has to do with Yenn reading his mind and the memories he’s sharing. Eskel doesn’t get to dwell on it as Vesemir hones in on him again.

“And what was so bad that after Ten years you finally gathered the courage to try to break him out?”, Vesemir snarled out.

Bennett took a sharp intake of breath and looked away, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow, “I can’t tell you that. Not the specifics. He wouldn’t want you to know. All I’ll say is that the sick fucker was practically butchering him, and if Reim had gone back under his knife he would’ve died. So I got him out”. He takes another deep breath and shifts his weight to the other foot.

And still he did not lie once.

“Why can’t I see the rest of what happened?”, Yennefer asked him cautiously.

Bennett glares back up at her, “Because it was particularly traumatic and private. So no, you can’t see it. You’ve seen enough of the rest of it. That stays private.”

“Then why have you not shown me your mentor’s face? Every memory carefully omits or is angled away from his face, his voice distorted. Why? What are you hiding Bennett ap Ambrose?”, Yennefer shoots back coldly.

The tension in the room ramps up again.

Bennett slumps onto the table, resting most of his weight on his palms against the wood, “What does it matter? He’s a bastard and I’ve been avoiding him for the last Fifty years. Besides no one would believe me over him, with how much sway he said he had over the Brotherhood and the Conclave”. His whole demeanor and tone are so resigned and tired. His head drops between his shoulders as his arms hold him up, his whole body tense.

Eskel notices that Yenn is also starting to sweat and clench her grip on her chair as this goes on, “It matters because whatever you’re hiding, whoever you’re running from could endanger this whole keep and I won’t have it. Now. Show me. What. You’re hiding”.

To the naked eye it doesn’t appear as if anything is happening. But every medallion in the room is trembling. The air between the 2 of them practically charged with chaos as they engage in a battle of wills.

Bennett picks his head up enough to glare at her through his lashes, “Fine. You want to see so badly? Then take it and get the fuck out of my head!!”, his whole body appears to relax, then seconds later locking every muscle and screwing up his face.

Yennefer almost stumbles from the lack of resistance for a moment. She’s then physically knocked back as a wave of magical recoil washes over her. She stumbles back a few paces into the wall panting from exertion with her eyes wide. Bennett goes boneless, and almost falls over himself but for his hands still on the table holding him up, also panting from exertion.

She looks up at Triss is shock, “His mentor was Stregabor.”

“Next time….. listen…. when someone tells you…. something is private. Especially if they haven’t yet lied or given reason for suspicion.”, he rasps panting between words, and then hurtles forward as he passes out.

Gweld catches him before his head can hit the table.

Chapter Text

All Jaskier can do is watch in shock as, who was once his one confidante and as close to an older sibling as he ever had, is carried off by Gweld to the medical wing with those horrible shackles still on. After all this time, to finally see him again. Jaskier hadn’t seen him since his senior year at Oxenfurt. He was almost crushed when Benita hadn’t been able to make it to his graduation, but she had left and sent ahead a very heartwarming gift that was one of the few possessions he was able to take with him when he was originally sent to Kaer Morhen. Nita had sent him a small silver compass pendant detailed with a dandelion, a buttercup, a forget me not, and what he knows now are many tiny arcane runes carved into it. It had been wrapped in a soft linen and a note. He could remember every word from having read it so many times.

The note had said,

‘My dear Julek,

I’m so sorry I can’t be there for your graduation. I will not give meaningless excuses, and I do not expect to be forgiven, but I still wanted to send your present ahead. It’s a compass to help you in your travels. It not only points true north but will also point towards my location if you say my name while holding it flat in your palm. I have its twin that I shall keep with me always, to be able to check up on you too. I hope to see you on the road if our circuits overlap while traveling.

Good Luck Julek, I have no doubt you’ll change the continent with your music.

Know that I will always love you as my fierce sweet little brother,

Yours, Benita’

Jaskier had seldom taken off the necklace, keeping it hidden on his way to Kaer Morhen so his captors couldn’t take the last remaining link he had to his older sibling. He hadn’t seen her in almost five years as he hadn’t been able to become a traveling bard due to the political tensions just after graduating, and then being shipped off to Kaer Morhen several months later. He had hoped to see her when he was invited to Oxenfurt, as it was close to her yearly stop in town. But he didn’t have a moment alone with Shani and Pris to ask if they’d seen Nita. Then it had become a clusterfuck of epic proportions what with his, Eskel’s, and Milena’s kidnapping.

It was mind-blowing to see such a different side to his usually bright and cheery confidante, just how much pain he had hidden. Jaskier knew that Nita could have a temper and had gone through some horrible things based on comments that slipped or ways she helped. Nita knew how to help him with the mental and emotional abuse from his father. She helped Shani with sutures and quick, dirty, improvised medicine with minimal supplies. She had taught all of them the best ways to sneak around the college without getting caught after dark. That knowledge, no matter how helpful it was to him and his friends at the time, did not come from anywhere good.

However, nothing he could’ve imagined prepared him for hearing it laid out in that tone filled such anger and hopelessness. Sure Nita had had off days where they just wanted to be left alone, or would stare off into the distance with melancholy certain days. But they wouldn’t say much about it, always saying that it was a long time ago and had been dealt with already.

Jaskier knew Nita had been born a man and not a woman, but she was the closest thing he had ever had to a caring big sister or sibling. In public she had to pass as female as anything less would make her life very difficult personally and professionally. But in private she would relax more and use neutral pronouns, only rarely using male terms. Nita had come to every one of his performances, whether they were in the seediest tavern, a brothel, or at the university. The two of them had spent so many hours bouncing ideas back and forth late at night, devolving into drinking and bantering ridiculously. She had been with him for his highest highs and lowest lows. Jaskier had let Nita see things that he didn’t even show Pris or Shani. Then after months of planning what they were going to do to celebrate graduation, Nita had left three weeks before the actual date of his graduation apologizing profusely. She had promised to come back in time for it, saying this was some huge lead to something she’d been searching for that she couldn’t pass up. But then they had gotten delayed due to some hold up, and Jaskier never saw or heard anything from her after his graduation present.

While she was at Oxenfurt, one of the two things Nita didn’t tolerate was anyone harassing sex workers. Both Nita and Jask played at or passed by brothels often as it was a good starting place for an audience. If Nita overheard someone threatening any of the sex workers as they passed the brothel, she would politely ask them to stop. If they didn’t she gave them a warning before threatening them with 1 of her knives held at the top of their thighs, and/ or another 1 aimed at their crotch. So that if they moved in either direction they would cut a major muscle or their family jewels. When she couldn’t get that close to the instigating pig she would taunt them and throw small rocks or food at them until they became so angry they would come after her instead of the sex worker. Once they came after her, she would once again either use her knives on them or duck and dodge their attempts to threaten her until they made fools of themselves tripping over things. She didn’t win all the fights she got into, but she usually dealt out a lot more ass whooping than she got. Jask had his suspicions that when she was younger Nita had a bad experience as a sex worker or in some other horrible situation where she was taken advantage of. He never asked because it was none of his business.

To know that after all they’d been through Nita had still hidden so much of herself from him, and to see her as Bennett, so angry and distraught…… It Hurt. It hurt to think they didn’t trust him with that, that they wouldn’t let him be there for them and help share the load of that burden.

But if there was One thing Jaskier knew, it was that whatever part his Benita or Bennett had played in the life of Geralt and Eskel’s brother, they did everything they could to help him. In Oxenfurt, Nita had never tolerated when anyone had talked of or joked about Witchers in a derogatory manner. She largely ignored talk of the warlord or of specific battles and conquests. However, if someone slandered and insulted Witchers themselves or what they did, she would become very cutting and calculating with her words, sometimes her knives if it came to blows. She always spoke positively about them when the topic came up, how they helped people by saving them from monsters. Often muttering angrily that the “bigoted assholes wouldn’t last a year without Witchers. But are they grateful? Nooooooo. Stupid fuckers outcasting people for being different”. Jask didn’t know why she defended Witchers so much at the time, but thought it had something to do with knowing about people treating you different.

If Nita, or rather Bennett, said he didn’t hurt Reim and did everything he could to help him in what was surely a hellish situation; then Jaskier will stand with him and try to convince the others of it as well.

Jaskier is pulled from his thoughts by his hand being held tenderly and a hand cupping his cheek on his other side, both rubbing their thumbs soothingly over his skin, “Mmmm, that feels nice.”

Eskel smiles, “There he is. You wandered off on us there Catmint.” Geralt hums to agree, his face pinched in concern.

Jaskier smiles fondly at both his loves, “Sorry dear hearts, I got lost in thought and reminiscing. It’s been 5 years since I saw or heard from Nita, so I was caught off guard.”

Geralt nods and pulls Jaskier into his lap to nuzzle into his neck, finally losing some of his tension from the meeting, “ ‘s a lot to process. Worried about you lark.”

Jaskier smiles as he drags his free hand through Geralt’s hair, “I know love”. He finally looks up to see how the rest of the council is fairing, only to see that it is just him, Eskel, Geralt, Yenn, and Vesemir, “Where did everyone else go?”

“We dismissed the rest of the council as we couldn’t really do or decide much with how close to supper it is, and without the subject of our discussion conscious or present. While you were off in your own world, everyone else filed out”, Yenn says in a dismissive tone, teasing towards the end.

Jaskier rolls his eyes, “Then what else is there to go over if you and Vesemir haven’t gone onto supper yet?”

Yenn looks as though she’s about to insert another snarky comment, but Vesemir interrupts her, “I told Serrit to go fetch Reim so we can brief him before the supper gossip mills get to him. No matter what we end up doing with the mage, Reim should know about him and get to make the decision of whether he wants to be anywhere near this.”

Yenn looks put out at having her fun interrupted but nods that this is the most reasonable course of action, “He should only be a couple more minutes. Then all of us can go to supper in peace”.

Just then there’s a knock at the door, “Enter”, Eskel says in a normal tone knowing his brother can hear him from there.

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It’s twenty minutes before dinner as Reim finishes brushing down his beautiful black mare Magpie, who he’s nicknamed Mags. He had gotten a rare chance to just go for a fun ride with her for a couple hours after the afternoon’s usual hunting. With any luck he would still have enough time for a quick wash up before supper so he didn’t smell like a stable for the whole meal.

“Reim, Vesemir’s asked for you in the council room”, Serrit says from a few stalls over. Which is weird because she’s supposed to be on sentry duty with his puppy of a brother Gweld.

So much for that bath he wanted. Reim glances at his surly little sister as he does the last couple strokes down Mag’s flank, “What for?”, he hasn’t done anything that the council or even the small council would need him for that he’s aware of.

Serrit stands there with her arms crossed in a tenser stance than usual, “Briefing on a surprise guest who showed up at the bottom of the mountain today. Gweld and I brought him up the mountain for business with the Wolf.”

Reim puts the brush back in its place and turns towards Serrit as she’s talking, giving a last pat to Magpie’s neck as he leaves her stall, “And what does this have to do with me?”, he asks.

Serrit starts walking back towards the council room for him to follow, “He’s a young mage that asked for you by name, school, and description. Said he’d helped patch you up years ago before the warlord stuff began”, she looks back to see his reaction.

Reim scrunches his brow in confusion, “Doesn’t sound like me.”

Serrit shrugs, “Sounded weird enough and like he knew enough he wasn’t bullshitting. Asked us where the Dimeritium handcuffs were, then lectured us on safety precautions for mages. Wanted to get up the mountain as quickly as possible too. So Someone had the bright idea that the fastest way up the mountain was to be carried by a witcher. Which I then had to do cuz apparently he was concerned I would stab him since he’s attracted to blokes”, she lets out an exasperated put upon sigh.

The corner of Reim’s mouth upturns a bit in the smallest hint of smile, though he’s still very confused, “Gonna hold that over him?”

Serrit looks back, “The mage? Nah, he’s got his own shit to deal with. Gweld? Oh yeah, gonna milk that for all it’s worth”, then shoots a wink at him.

Reim scrunches up his face in disgust, that was more than he needed to know. Which is weird enough, since when does Serrit care about how much shit a mage has on their plate? She’s never this open unless Something has gone down.

Serrit laughs and turns back around, they’re almost to the small council room now.

“What’s this really about?”, Reim asks suspicious as they get closer.

Serrit sighs, “That’s not for me to say, I’ll let Vesemir brief you on that. What I can say is that his meeting with the council involved lots of accusations, lots of shouting, and apparently he knows both you and the songbird. He passed out, from magical exhaustion probably, which ended the meeting. Gweld took him up to the med wing with the Dimeritium handcuffs still on.”

Reim gives an acknowledging but dissatisfied grunt.

They get to the short hallway which leads to the small council room, and Serrit steps to the side so Reim can go first. Reim passes her and goes up to the door to knock twice.

Eskel’s soothing voice calls from the other side, “Enter”.

Reim opens the door and walks up to stand in front of the small council table to see Jaskier sitting on Geralt’s lap with his one hand being held by Eskel. Reim rolls his eyes. Yennefer and Vesemir are also still in the room to whom he gives an acknowledging look and a respectful nod.

Reim focuses on Vesemir and raises a challenging eyebrow.

Vesemir is the one to roll his eyes this time, though with a fond look in his eyes, his demeanor suggests something serious, “I’m sure Serrit told you we have a young mage as an unexpected guest.”

Reim nods, changing his expression from challenging to confused, waiting for Vesemir to elaborate.

Vesemir takes a deep breath, “According to him, he was unwillingly apprenticed to the mage that held you captive for 10 years and tried to help you as often as he could. Including risking his own safety in order to help you escape.”

Reim’s eyes widen a fraction, his nostrils flaring, stance widening, as he feels a cold shudder run down his back. He doesn’t remember anything about those 10 years except for Cold, damp, chaos, and Pain. Excruciating pain that still sometimes wakes him up in the middle of the night and takes an age to remember where and when he is. He’s still wary of all the mages that have joined Geralt, doing his best to avoid them. He respects Merigold and Yennefer, but will avoid any and all interaction if he can help it.

He feels a presence behind him and sees Serrit standing there as silent support out of the corner of his eye. Reim takes a deep breath to center himself, and nods for Vesemir to continue. He nods in thanks to his little sister as well.

Vesemir takes another deep breath, “According to the truth of his own words and Yennefer’s confirmation from his mind, his claims seem to be true that he did help you escape and got to know you during the ordeal. He seemed to know things, things none of us would usually speak of unless there was trust. And given that he knew me only as the Wolf school’s sword master, I’d say his information is old enough to have come from you. He was able to recognize me, Rennes, Geralt, Eskel, and Ivar based on description alone.”

Reim’s eyes widen a bit more. That is surprising as he wouldn’t have spoken about witcher secrets or the family he had made for himself with anyone outside of it. Whoever this mage is, he must’ve stuck through enough of Reim’s gruff and growly exterior to get him talking. Very few people had stuck through his gruff prickly armor to really see him underneath it, Eskel, and Vesemir among them. Several had gotten close like Gweld and Serrit, but not close enough he’d open up and really be vulnerable with them. Worse yet he didn’t remember any of it.

Vesemir clears his throat, “I wanted to tell you all this now so that you’d be prepared in case anyone asks or you hear anything at dinner. And so that you’d be prepared for Ivar. I didn’t tell him anything, and the young mage didn’t give any details, but he may badger you about why he didn’t know about your disappearance before today. I told him to piss off and that it was your decision.”

Reim refocusses his attention on Vesemir, “Thank you Vesemir”, and he was thankful for a lot that the man had done for him. Not just today, but in bringing him in to the Wolves all those years ago and fixing his hormone potion.

Vesemir’s lips quirk in a small smile fondly, “You’re welcome lad. It is your decision. Whether you tell Ivar anything, and whatever you decide to do with the Mage once he’s out of the med wing. I suspect the mage will seek you out at least once, probably more than that since he came to see you specifically, but you don’t have to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”

Reim nods respectfully again, swallowing around the lump suddenly in his throat.

“Now, I think that was everything important. If you wish for more details on the shouting matches that took place during the meeting I’m sure Eskel, Gweld, or Serrit will be happy to regale you with them after supper. Which we are almost late for. So unless anyone else has anything else important, I think we can all go to dinner”, Vesemir looks at the others in the room, getting shaken heads of “no” from Geralt, Eskel, and Yennefer.

Jaskier pauses unsure before quietly saying, “Just give him a chance, and be gentle. He gets flashbacks and panic attacks sometimes and he won’t know where or when he is. If that happens, touch helps, but only on his neck, face, and hands. Anything else is likely to make it worse”, he shares these details warily but firm.

Reim nods, “Noted. Try, but no promises”, he will talk to the mage if for nothing else than curiosity and some closure. He hasn’t exactly avoided the bard, but he is a bit loud and brings attention to any Witcher or person he sings of. Which is the opposite of what Reim has always wanted, in trying to always stay as unnoticed as possible.

Jaskier nods, “That’s all anyone can ask.”

After another nod from Vesemir and Eskel, Reim leaves the room with his thoughts swirling. The others shortly following him out of the room towards the main hall for supper.

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Waking up feels like he’s been run over by a carriage, and someone keeps using his head as an anvil while beating a warped blade into shape. It’s not the best way Bennett has ever woken up, but considering the only thing hampering his movement is the shackles still on him, he’s had worse. He does a self assessment and realizes that the reason he feels so bloody awful is because he was a dummy and overextended his chaos.

Bennett risks opening his eyes slowly, only for the late-morning brightness to almost blind him even with the curtain drawn. He brings both palms up to push over his eyes groaning, and starts talking to himself sarcastically, “Great going Ambrose. Really outdid yourself on creating a lasting first impression. Just give your deepest secrets to the one person here most likely to use them against you, and shout at the father figure of the man you love. Fantastic start. Whole ‘meet the family’ thing is going exactly as you wanted it to. But, it could be worse. I could be in a dungeon cell, booted off the mountain, or dead. Worse, they could’ve called the Bastard and told him where I am”, he lets out a deep sigh and removes his hands off his eyes and puts them back in his lap with a jangling clank of the shackles.

When Bennett opens his eyes again he sees Jaskier, his Julek, standing in the doorway with an unknown dark haired Witcher in wolf style armor looming behind him. Bennett sighs, “And you just heard almost all of that. Fantastic. This day is just getting better and better.”

Julek, darling that he is, does at least look at least a little sheepish. His bodyguard, as that’s the only reason Bennett can think of to have a witcher trailing Julek, shares no such expression and continues to look stony and indifferent to Bennett’s strife.

After another more dramatic sigh Bennett says, “Might as well come in and talk instead of skulking with the door open for any witcher in 50 ft to hear.”

Jask walks over to a chair next to the bed and sits down, “Yes well, I’m afraid I don’t bring much better news with me.” His shadow bodyguard stands against the wall behind Julek once the door closes, enough to give the illusion of space but close enough for Quen. Smart.

Bennett refocusses on Jaskier, “Oh? What new way have the gods chosen to torment me?”, he knows how tired and resigned he sounds. But frankly he can’t bother to care at this point. He’s so so dam tired. Coming here was supposed to help, but he forgot that in order to reset a badly healed wound you have to reopen it.

Jask takes a breath and looks at Bennett's still lying down form, “Well the good news is that Reim is alive, and knows you’re here. The bad news is that he doesn’t remember any of the 10 years you knew each other except for the sense of pain, so he has no idea who you are…….. I’m sorry Nita”

Bennett’s breath hitches before he takes a deep breath in and out. He looks back at Julek, “At least he’s alive. I got through his prickly exterior once, hopefully I can do it again. And if not, then hopefully I can be useful around here somehow.” Bennett doesn’t actually know what he’ll do if Reim decides he never wants to see him again, or just has no interest in getting to know each other.

They spend about a minute in awkward silence before Jaskier breaks it, “Why didn’t you ever tell me? Any of it? Did you not trust me?”, his voice is filled with hurt and that more than anything else is almost what breaks Bennett.

Bennett holds his hand out as an invitation if Jaskier wants to hold it. Jask takes it between both hands. Bennett gives an indulgent smile, “Oh Julek, I love you and trust you with so much of myself. But you are my wonderful little brother, which means I have to protect you from the amount of bullshit that knowing my secrets comes with. I can’t protect you from the world, but I could protect you from my burdens and help comfort you with yours.”

Jaskier huffs and pouts, “That’s hypocritical and you know it.”

Bennett gives him a small smile, “Yes, but such is the way of the caretaker. Trying so hard to take care of everyone else we ignore our own needs, sometimes on purpose to run from them.”

Jaskier looks at Bennett confused, “Why would you purposefully close yourself off and deny your own needs?”

Bennett gives him a pained smile, “Because it hurt less to feel like I had some control if I closed myself off to non-essential needs. It’s another reason I didn’t tell you and the others I was a mage. I knew that I would lose you when I eventually have to reinvent myself in a decade or so without any signs of aging. Or even if I kept a glamour to give the appearance of aging, I would still lose you to age or some other human condition like I’ve lost several others”, he brings his other hand up to also hold one of his Julek’s hands between both of his.

Jaskier looks pained, “Is that why you left before my graduation? For a clean break to avoid later pain?” He tried to pull away in hurt, but Bennett gently held firm.

Bennett shakes his head no, “No I was so excited for your graduation, I had everything prepared and planned and everything. I left for what I had thought was a lead on Reim only a couple days ride away. I ended up on a wild goose chase after the witcher sounded like could’ve been him, but when I finally caught up to him it wasn’t, looked nothing like him even. But I had followed rumors of a wolf school Witcher that looked or sounded Skelligan. Imagine my surprise when I find Lambert having just gotten out of a bad scrape with a Leshen cursing up a storm. He was pretty beat up so I helped patch him up with no small amount of fight from him, but he couldn’t exactly walk easy on a busted leg. Think I learned curse words in three new languages that few days. By the time he was healed and able to get back to his group that he had been separated from it was three days til your Graduation and I was at least two weeks out. So I sent your graduation present ahead of me and walked back”, he rubbed his thumb over Jaskier’s hand where it was being held.

Julek looks down at their joined hands and says in a very small voice, “Then where did you go? Why haven’t I seen or heard from you in 5 years Nita?”, and the choked up tone almost breaks Bennett.

Bennett takes a deep breath to blink back and swallow his own tears, “Cuz walking back from just outside Blaviken took a lot longer than the week or two of hard riding, on horseback get your mind out of the gutter, closer to 6 weeks at a steady pace while stopping to play or otherwise make enough coin to eat and sleep. By the time I got back to Oxenfurt I went to see which of the professor’s assistant jobs you got, but they told me you weren’t a professor’s assistant or at the academy in any capacity anymore. I knew that couldn’t be right so I asked Shani why you weren’t at the academy and where in the city you were staying. Shani said you’d been called back to Lettenhove to be present at court in Tretogor just two weeks after your graduation. I was devastated, I thought I had more time with you. But I couldn’t exactly storm Tretogor to bring you home in Oxenfurt, much as I wanted to.” Bennett mumbles the last part.

Jask looks up with wet eyes and chuckles at the thought, “It’ve been funny though. See you’re just as good at giving a succinct answer as always.” He squeezes Bennett’s hand.

Bennett squeezes back with a very small sardonic, “Yeah well, this is what you get when I feel like I’ve been run over by a shaelmar. Me rambling without any filter and with all the little details. I’m sorry I didn’t write, I almost did a few times or thought of giving them to Pris or Shani and they’d get it to you. But I wasn’t sure you’d even wanted to speak to me ever again.”

Jask rolls his eyes and pokes Bennett in the shoulder several times, “Yes well that’s what you get for being an idiot and going toe to toe with Yennefer. Of course I still wanted to talk to you and see you. What about after I had been at Kaer Morhen over a year? Why didn’t you send me a letter? Come visit? Hell, if you knew Reim is a Wolf Witcher why didn’t just come sooner and ask for him?”

Bennett looks away towards the wall on the other side of the bed, he speaks in a lowered voice ashamed, “Because I was afraid. I have been running from my problems for over fifty years. Do you know what happens when someone goes through an unstable portal?”

Jaskier frowns confused and shakes his head no, but his grumpy shadow behind him widens his eyes in realization.

“If something goes wrong with a portal or teleport, there are several types of consequences. You can end up miles off course, have a limb get left behind if the portal closes too soon, get stuck in limbo between places, or get dropped somewhere unsafe like the ocean or a bandit camp”, Bennett tells Jaskier shakily.

Bennett takes a deep breath in and swallows around the lump in his throat, “I had only been studying the portal spell for ten days when our best opportunity to escape came when Stregabor was supposed to be gone for 2 days. Reim’s worst injuries had healed but he really needed at least a Swallow and another couple days of food and actual rest. I gathered his gear, him, and what few things from that hellhole I actually valued then went about setting up the portal. It took every last ounce of training, chaos, and will power I had to open that portal and keep it open long enough for me to push him through”, one lone tear slides down his face.

He continues, “But the bastard came back early. I could feel how close his chaos was and he could tell I was working on something much bigger than he’d taught me. He was striding down the hall towards us when I pushed Reim through the portal with the only destination in mind being somewhere safe far from there. But then Stregabor had opened the door and gotten close enough to pull on the tether and cut off the amount of chaos I was using”, another few tears escape from his closed eyes as he looks towards the wall.

Bennett shakily takes another deep breath, “I have spent the last 50 years with the fear that I sent the man I thought I loved away from hell only to still not get him home. If I could find him out on the road, I would know that he was alive, but we would both be able to walk away easily if he didn’t want to ever see me again. But to travel all the way to Kaer Morhen only to find out from 1 of his brothers that he never made it home that year. It would’ve broken me.” They start crying in earnest that comes out in small sniffles, and then in muffled choked back sobs before the dam breaks and develop into great heaving full body sobs.

Jaskier moves onto the bed next to them and wraps Bennett in the reassuring warmth of familiar arms. Bennett tucks their head into Julek’s neck as they let go of all the built up pain for the first time in decades. Bennett tries to say other things several times, but only gets partial words out muffled around blubbering. Jask brings one hand up to pet Bennett’s hair and the back of their neck making soothing shushing noises as he soothes his friend through their breakdown like they’ve done for him so many times.