Chapter Text
The servants of the house were rushing around in a panic. Their Lord barked orders for the men to go into the forest. To find the creature. To bring back the boy it took. The wails of the lady of the house could be heard throughout the halls.
Her initial horrified screams were still ringing in the ears of every soul in Lettenhove manor.
The Lord's men knew the man's secret. They knew what he would lose if anyone knew. What his wife would do. They watched their Lord pace in a furious panic.
A farmer was dragged before the Lord before long, having come to request help removing a Witcher from his stable.
A Witcher..
***********
Julian Alfred Pankratz was such a beautiful boy. His mother would tell him constantly. She always complimented him, and told him how much she loved him, though he always felt a great distance between them. His mother's love was never absent, but it did seem almost.. performative, sometimes. His brother did not have this issue.
He wondered if perhaps he looked too much like his father. He certainly did not resemble his mother. His brother, Julius Alfons, was the image of their mother, both of them with golden hair and forest green eyes. Jaskier always knew, even with brown hair, he was the beauty of the family. But standing beside the two as he grew, he felt very much the odd one out.
Julius was the heir, having beat Julian into the world a mere ten minutes according to their mother. She would often make this joke as the boys grew. Julian never understood why she seemed so nervous when she told it.
On the boys' sixteenth birthday, they were both told they would be attending university. Julius was expected to learn what he needed to learn to take his place as Earl of Lettenhove, their father having been dead since they were infants. Julian was expected to learn a specialty that would support him, as a younger son should.
He chose music, remembering how he excelled in his lessons growing up, and how happy the practice made him. Telling his mother made her face take an odd expression, before she pasted on a smile and told him that she was sure he would be lovely. Julian very much felt like he had displeased her.
Eighteen year old Jaskier managed to become a master of the seven liberal arts in just two years. His brother was on track to graduate soon himself, having acquired the necessary knowledge to be a liege lord. He did not wish to return to his mother alone, however. Something about the thought of going back to Lettenhove felt unwelcoming.
Instead he hit the road. For experience as a traveling bard.
He met Geralt in Posada..
**********
Geralt was a king now.
Or as good as, he was the Warlord. Jaskier could not credit it. The name he bestowed on Geralt being chanted across the witcher's lands.
Jaskier, on the other hand..
Once the continent's most famous bard.. now a lowly tailor.
He knew it was necessary. After the war with Nilfgard began, Jaskier, with his bleeding heart, had become the sandpiper. He had made himself the enemy of the Northern kingdoms by doing so. And he was certainly not allied to Nilfgard. Being known as the White Wolf's companion, they hunted him just as aggressively. And Geralt himself had made his opinion of Jaskier very clear on the mountain, so former Kaedwen was not an option either.
Geralt had rallied the witchers and taken over Kaedwen, and fought and gained more ground. He had pushed Nilfgard back so far, their holds were even smaller than before the White Flame's war. He had made peace with Filivandrel, and Xin’trea had excused the lion cub's survival, on the grounds that she would not try to reclaim the elven lands. Radovid and Emhyr were the biggest enemies that Geralt still had, though luckily they had not yet even considered joining forces.
It was only a matter of time though.
Jaskier knew that better than anyone. So after he had been compromised as the sandpiper, he had fled and hidden himself. Started calling himself Julian again, and opened up a tailor's shop in some random coastal town. He tried to keep his head down, and not draw attention.
So here was Julian. With all of Geralt's enemies, and none of his friends.
Though.. today was a better day.
Today the news had traveled at the speed of light. Jaskier the bard.. was dead.
Julian wondered where the news came from. Whose body had been mistaken for his? How had the person died?
Beneath that though.. he felt free. They would stop looking for him now.
***********
Geralt crushed the letter in his fist. They had no details, only the news itself, which had hit Oxenfurt. He had stationed a Witcher there, one with green eyes that could pass for human, to watch for signs of Jaskier. Gaetan sent back this. Apparently the entire university was in mourning, despite the likely retaliation that would come from Radovid for it.
But the news was across the continent on this day.
Jaskier the bard was dead.
Yennefer and Vesemir looked upon him with pity. They continued the council meeting, leading it themselves, while he sat silent. He didn't hear another word. Only a faint echo of a song from a long time ago.. before the Warlord. Before the White Wolf. Back when he was only known as the Butcher..
“When a humble bard graced a ride along..”