Interrupting the training session may've been a bit of a disaster, but these are witchers, and Jaskier thinks his boldness has earned their respect at least. He introduces himself properly after Vesemir is gone - Coën also thanks him for the sake, Lambert does so after a nudge from Eskel. Not only that, Coën accepts to tell him some stories, apparently he's impressed by the fact the bard could tell the difference in witcher fighting styles.
That's how Jaskier ends up having lunch with a griffin and a princess, who also should hear about these things since she's a witcher in training. It makes for a lovely meal - Coën isn't as chatty as Eskel, but he isn't as reserved as Geralt either. He's a happy middle, saying enough when answering Jaskier's questions (turns out his songs have made life easier for witchers of other schools as well) and even asking some in return (it's not every day a human stays for so long in the Path, after all).
Jaskier is on his way to the kitchen, carrying a tray with their empty lunch plates, when he hears the words that make him freeze.
We need to talk about your bard.
He can feel his heart jumping into his chest - he should've seen this coming, Vesemir is going to scold the hell out of Geralt, repeat all the bullshit his boyfriend has been repeating to him the last twenty years. Witchers travel the Path alone. Nothing prepares him, however, for what comes next.
It's like he's a child again.
Geralt tries to defend him and some people would think it's not much, but Jaskier understands. Little Julian would also freeze when his father would yell at him for wanting things that he shouldn't, for having dreams that would never come true. For assuming he knows better what his son wants than the son himself.
And gods, Vesemir sure is doing a great job right now at sounding exactly like Vincent Horatio Pankratz.
He should run. He shouldn't be listening to this... yet he can't bring himself to move. He can only stay there, his whole body trembling, his scent filling with hurt, anxiety, anger. Everything he's achieved for Geralt's acceptance of happiness in the last twenty decades is being destroyed in a few minutes. He's being accused of revealing secrets, of only wanting a meal and protection, of not actually loving the best thing that's ever happened to him.
He wants to scream.
What happens instead is him dropping the tray to the floor when Vesemir comes out, startling him out of his current emotional hurricane. If Jaskier had been any other man, he would punch the witcher in front of him. But Jaskier is Jaskier, so he does what he does best: he uses words.
"Who the FUCK do you think you are! Speaking as if you knew my wants and needs better than the man that's been traveling with me for two bloody decades!"
As his whole body is still shaking, the hands aren't as dramatic as usual, just enough gesturing to go with his unleashed anger. His voice, hoever, is high and furious, and he doesn't need to be a witcher to know there are steps coming to see what's going on.
Good. Let them hear. He's still not afraid of them.
"Do you even TRUST your students at all? Do you actually think I spent twenty years next to a witcher without touching silver? Do you really believe Geralt is THAT dumb? Not to have noticed something himself, to trust me with his secrets if there was a chance I would give them away? Everything he's said and showed me, I EARNED it! I've held his GUTS in my hands, old man, while you've been here thinking him a fool!"
There are people watching behind him, he can tell, but he only has eyes for the asshole in front of him. Let him see the raw fury in his blue eyes, to smell up close how much he means every single one of his words.
"How dare you treat him like naive child, as if he hasn't been punishing himself with all this horseshit logic all this time! How dare you imply he doesn't need anything, when it's obvious they are all craving a friendly touch! How dare you to accuse me of only wanting coin and a bodyguard when I've turned down every offer to be a court bard!" A sob escapes him then, which probably ruins the whole thing - boldness and fearlessness a witcher may respect, but tears? He doubts it. "And how dare you question my loyalty after I stayed by his side after every insult, after he tossed me away, after Nilfgaard whipped my very skin because apparently a bunch of soldiers believe in my bond to him better than you can even start to understand!"
He hears a gasp then, and Jaskier doesn't have to turn around to know who it was - there's only one woman at the keep at the moment.
no subject
That's how Jaskier ends up having lunch with a griffin and a princess, who also should hear about these things since she's a witcher in training. It makes for a lovely meal - Coën isn't as chatty as Eskel, but he isn't as reserved as Geralt either. He's a happy middle, saying enough when answering Jaskier's questions (turns out his songs have made life easier for witchers of other schools as well) and even asking some in return (it's not every day a human stays for so long in the Path, after all).
Jaskier is on his way to the kitchen, carrying a tray with their empty lunch plates, when he hears the words that make him freeze.
We need to talk about your bard.
He can feel his heart jumping into his chest - he should've seen this coming, Vesemir is going to scold the hell out of Geralt, repeat all the bullshit his boyfriend has been repeating to him the last twenty years. Witchers travel the Path alone. Nothing prepares him, however, for what comes next.
It's like he's a child again.
Geralt tries to defend him and some people would think it's not much, but Jaskier understands. Little Julian would also freeze when his father would yell at him for wanting things that he shouldn't, for having dreams that would never come true. For assuming he knows better what his son wants than the son himself.
And gods, Vesemir sure is doing a great job right now at sounding exactly like Vincent Horatio Pankratz.
He should run. He shouldn't be listening to this... yet he can't bring himself to move. He can only stay there, his whole body trembling, his scent filling with hurt, anxiety, anger. Everything he's achieved for Geralt's acceptance of happiness in the last twenty decades is being destroyed in a few minutes. He's being accused of revealing secrets, of only wanting a meal and protection, of not actually loving the best thing that's ever happened to him.
He wants to scream.
What happens instead is him dropping the tray to the floor when Vesemir comes out, startling him out of his current emotional hurricane. If Jaskier had been any other man, he would punch the witcher in front of him. But Jaskier is Jaskier, so he does what he does best: he uses words.
"Who the FUCK do you think you are! Speaking as if you knew my wants and needs better than the man that's been traveling with me for two bloody decades!"
As his whole body is still shaking, the hands aren't as dramatic as usual, just enough gesturing to go with his unleashed anger. His voice, hoever, is high and furious, and he doesn't need to be a witcher to know there are steps coming to see what's going on.
Good. Let them hear. He's still not afraid of them.
"Do you even TRUST your students at all? Do you actually think I spent twenty years next to a witcher without touching silver? Do you really believe Geralt is THAT dumb? Not to have noticed something himself, to trust me with his secrets if there was a chance I would give them away? Everything he's said and showed me, I EARNED it! I've held his GUTS in my hands, old man, while you've been here thinking him a fool!"
There are people watching behind him, he can tell, but he only has eyes for the asshole in front of him. Let him see the raw fury in his blue eyes, to smell up close how much he means every single one of his words.
"How dare you treat him like naive child, as if he hasn't been punishing himself with all this horseshit logic all this time! How dare you imply he doesn't need anything, when it's obvious they are all craving a friendly touch! How dare you to accuse me of only wanting coin and a bodyguard when I've turned down every offer to be a court bard!" A sob escapes him then, which probably ruins the whole thing - boldness and fearlessness a witcher may respect, but tears? He doubts it. "And how dare you question my loyalty after I stayed by his side after every insult, after he tossed me away, after Nilfgaard whipped my very skin because apparently a bunch of soldiers believe in my bond to him better than you can even start to understand!"
He hears a gasp then, and Jaskier doesn't have to turn around to know who it was - there's only one woman at the keep at the moment.
"...bollocks."