One

"You know more about monsters than you do about anything most people find relevant. Probably combined."

"Monsters are relevant." Geralt continued to ride slowly along the path, Jaskier trailing behind him, absently fiddling with his lute.

"Yes, good, so next time someone asks you who the king of Redania is, you can tell them all about how ghouls are stronger at dawn." Jaskier strummed the lute, made a small adjustment, then played the chord again. This time he seemed satisfied with the result.

"Alghouls. And they're stronger at dusk or at night. Not dawn," Geralt corrected.

"Of course they are." Jaskier paused for a particularly tricky note, then continued, "You know, most people don't even know this much about their friends. Do you have any monster friends, Geralt? A nice drowner? Cuddly griffin? Kindly... siren?"

Geralt pulled Roach to a halt. Jaskier continued to wander forward, occupied with his lute, until Geralt growled, "Jaskier."

Jaskier looked up, then halted as well. "What is it? Did you hear something? One of your friends?"

Geralt didn't answer, just dismounted and stared up at the sky, waiting for the sound that he knew would come again. A moment later, Jaskier fell into silence as well.

A harpy dropped out of the sky in front of them, screeching madly and flying directly for Roach. With a quick sign, Geralt thrust the harpy away, and when it came back to rush them again was ready with his silver sword, spearing it directly through its rotting chest. Its body fell to the ground, Jaskier backing away with an expression of mixed fear and disgust. Geralt was unaffected.

"As I said," he said with a sardonic lilt, pulling his sword out of the monster's chest in a single smooth motion. "Relevant."

Two

"Ah, Jaskier." Geralt smiled at the sight of the bard, clutching desperately to the trunk of the tree he was hiding in. Below him, a baby griffin was jumping up, trying to reach him, but its tiny wings were too small to work yet. "I see you've found one of my friends."

"'One of your friends'? Really, Geralt, of all the times to start making jokes, you choose now?" Somehow, even halfway up a tree with leaves in his hair, Jaskier still managed to look exasperated. "I'm glad that you think that me getting killed is the right time to show your sense of humour!"

"She won't kill you. She's only a baby."

Jaskier relaxed slightly, though kept looking nervously down at the baby griffin below him.

"Her mother will."

Three

"Ah, Geralt?" Jaskier's nervous voice coming from behind him alerted Geralt to the bard's predicament. "I may have found another of your friends."

Geralt turned. Jaskier was standing just off the edge of the path carved through the swamp, and at first glance, seemed perfectly fine. At a closer look, however, Geralt could see the vines creeping around Jaskier's ankle, slowly pulling him further off the path. Jaskier lifted his foot, trying to shake it off, but the plant tugged and his arms pinwheeled as he tried to keep his balance.

"Stop pulling away," Geralt growled. "You won't be able to shake it."

"Oh, so it will just keep me here forever, then?" Jaskier managed, finally regaining his balance. "That's just wonderful, exactly the way I wanted to spend my life, tied to this plant...thing."

"It's an archespore," Geralt said, eyes scanning the ground, trying to find the source of the vines. "They're cursed plants that spray acid from their–" he found what he was looking for "– flowers."

Jaskier followed his gaze, his jaw dropping as he saw the brown flower rising out of the swamp. "That? The most revolting flower I've ever seen in my life, and it sprays acid as well?"

"Monsters aren't pretty, Jaskier." Geralt moved toward it, trying to find the best angle of attack that wouldn't endanger Jaskier. Brown were the least dangerous kind of archespore, but even a brown archespore's acid would be enough to seriously injure Jaskier, even before the archespore got close enough to grab him with its powerful leaves.

"It's a flower! Flowers are always meant to be pretty, Geralt. Really, you've been around long enough, you should know that."

Geralt didn't reply, just let Jaskier's voice turn into background noise as he found the right position and cast Igni at the archespore. The flower shot acid at him but he dodged it, keeping just out of the reach of those grabbing petals. He cast Igni at it again, then waited until it came out of the ground and slashed it with his silver sword. Finally, it died.

Geralt turned and headed back to Roach, waiting patiently for him on the path. Behind him, Jaskier was still trying to get himself untangled from the archespore's creeping vines, which had only slightly loosened now the creature was dead. Eventually, he would remember the dagger he kept in his other boot, but Geralt didn't want to wait around that long. For someone who was so excellent at remembering words and music, Jaskier was absolutely terrible at remembering he had a knife, and could sometimes even use it.

Four

Geralt slid back into his seat beside Jaskier. "One of my friends is here."

"Friends? You have other friends? Where?" Jaskier immediately started looking around the tavern. "If it's someone you'll actually admit is a friend, I need to meet them. I hope you've known them longer than me, or I'll be very offended. Is it another witcher?

Geralt pulled his head down. "No. A friend."

"Right, because of course you aren't friends with other..." Jaskier's eyes widened, and he leaned closer to Geralt. "A friend. Where?"

Geralt leaned closer to Jaskier in turn, pretending it was only so he didn't have to speak too loudly. "At the bar. Red dress."

To his pleased surprise, Jaskier did not immediately turn to look, but waited a few moments, then leant over to adjust his lute, sneaking a glance at the bar as he did so. When he looked back at Geralt, his expression was disbelieving. "She's a–" He cut himself off, then resumed more quietly, "one of your friends?"

Geralt grunted his assent.

"That's a friend of yours I'd love to write a song about." Jaskier's gaze returned to the woman at the bar, but this time it was far more admiring. "What happened to monsters never being pretty?"

"She's supposed to be," Geralt growled. "Otherwise, fools like you wouldn't follow her to their deaths."

Jaskier hastily looked away. "Yes, well, not ready to die just yet. She's not going to come over here, is she?"

Geralt didn't speak at first, leaving Jaskier to become more and more nervous. "If you wouldn't mine, Geralt, I'd like to know if I'm going to die tonight, so I can make sure I make the most of it. I'm assuming you would tell me if I was going to die." He continued in, tone shifting from nervous to inquiring. "Would you tell me if I was going to die? I assume you would. I'd tell you, but I doubt I'd get the opportunity."

"No." Geralt drank his beer.

"No what, Geralt? No, you wouldn't tell me, or no, she's not coming over? Honestly, Geralt!"

"She won't bother us." He stood from the table. "You're coming with me tonight."

"I come with you nearly every time, Geralt, I don't know why tonight would be different. Except for her." He snuck another glance at the lady at the bar. "As I told you, Geralt, I'm too young to die. Not that she's not very attractive, because, believe me, she is, not that I need to tell you that, but I'm not going to sleep with her."

Geralt hummed disbelievingly.

"I have some sense of self-preservation, Geralt!" Jaskier's indignance turned into consideration. "Although, it would probably make for an excellent song. Perhaps something elegant, like a sonnet, put to melody–"

Geralt grabbed Jaskier by the back of his tunic and pulled him along behind him as he headed out the door.

Five

"Geralt, I think we've found one of your friends."

The little girl looked up at him, eyes wide with fear. In her arms she clutched a bundle of teeth and claws that looked far too sharp for it to not be some kind of monster. "Moooommy," she warbled.

Jaskier looked around, but no woman stepped out from between the trees, or could be heard calling back from somewhere else in the dense forest. There was only the little girl, arms still tightly wound around the creature that was hissing and scratching at her arms. He looked over at Geralt, but even his superior hearing didn't seem to be able to find anyone.

Jaskier knelt down in front of the girl, smiling nervously. He never really spent much time with children. "Hello there..." he floundered for a moment, "...child. What are you holding?"

She pulled it away from him, her lower lip sticking out in protest. "Mine."

Jaskier held out his hands in front of him in an attempt to pacify her suspicion. "Of course, I'm sure it's all yours, and believe me, I have no desire to take it. But my friend here," he indicated Geralt, and the girl's eyes swung that way, "would like to know where you found it."

The girl loosened one arm from around the creature so she could point to a tree behind her. The creature, taking advantage of the opportunity, increased its struggles to escape, and managed to get one long leg free, using the leverage to pull itself further out of her grip. She wailed, her arms tightening around it, but it was already far enough out of her grip that it took only a moment more before it was running down her leg and to the ground, scuttling along on what Jaskier personally thought was far too many legs.

He jumped out of its way with a yelp, but Geralt leaned down and picked the creature up, one massive hand around three of its legs. It hissed at him, rattling back and forth in its efforts to escape, but Geralt held steady.

The little girl marched over, staring fearlessly up at him. Her finger pointed to the creature. "Mine."

"It's an arachnomorph," Geralt told her. "Not a pet."

Her stare didn't wave. "Mine!"

"It wants to kill you," Geralt continued on, a hint of frustration coming into his tone. He shook it slightly, and it spat webbing over his arm.

Jaskier shied away, brushing frantically at his front. "Can't you just kill it? It's dead, it can't hurt her anymore, we can all move on."

Geralt huffed. "Fine."

The girl frowned mutinously. "Mine!"

"Oh, this will make a fantastic song." Jaskier rummaged in his pack for his notebook, still idly talking. "The epic tale of the little girl who defeated the White Wolf– hey!" He shook his sleeve, which was now covered in web, courtesy of the creature in Geralt's hand. "Geralt!"

Geralt didn't even bother to respond to him this time, just held out the creature with one hand, drew his sword with the other, and sliced it cleanly down the middle.

"Thank you," Jaskier said, over-emphasising the first word. "It won't make the most dramatic ending, but at least now it's not spitting–" he cast a glance at the webbing still covering his sleeve, "–this all over me. It will take hours to get all this off."

Geralt grunted, turning away. He was interrupted by a shout.

"Mine!" The little girl ran over to the creature, now in two halves on the ground, and picked one up, trying to force it back onto the other mine. She let go, and the halves fell apart again. Falling to her knees beside the creature, hands now covered in the purple goo that made up its insides, she kept trying to force the two halves back together, growing steadily more frustrated.

Jaskier and Geralt just watched. Jaskier considered trying to drag her away, but he had no particular desire to wrestle with a stubborn, gore-stained toddler. Geralt was the one with a Child Surprise, and he had a soft spot for children. He could do it.

Or, as Geralt turned back to Roach and began leading her down the path, he wouldn't.

Jaskier hurried after him, whispering furiously, "What are you doing? You can't just leave her there! What about, you know, monsters?"

"Her mother's coming," Geralt said briefly. Jaskier heard the unspoken truth that no mother would be happy to find her daughter in the care of a Witcher, even one with a reputation as a friend of humanity.

Clearly Jaskier's next song would have to change that.

And One

"Can it be? The famous Jaskier?" As they stepped into the tavern, a woman at the bar accosted them with a grin.

Jaskier, never one to miss an opportunity, bowed with a flourish. "It is indeed! It's always an honour to meet a fan."

They walked towards her, settling beside her at the bar. She was clearly a bard, her fingers ink-stained and with the familiar calluses of a lute player, even if there was no lute on her back.

Jaskier ordered drinks for himself and Geralt, then turned to the other bard. "I haven't seen you since we left Oxenfurt! Feels like ages, doesn't it, Leita? How have you been?

"Not nearly so well as you, clearly! Your songs are being played all across the continent!" She leaned close, whispering conspiratorially, "I've even seen Valdo Marx playing them."

"No doubt he's mangled them beyond all recognition," Jaskier scoffed, and the two of them laughed.

Geralt let their conversation drift by him as he drank his ale. It was good that Jaskier had another bard to talk to. Geralt knew perfectly well that he was not the most talkative of companions, and while most of the time Jaskier more than made up for it, surely sometimes he enjoyed having someone who would actually talk back. Particularly about old Oxenfurt days, which seemed to be what they had drifted onto now.

He gestured for another ale, and that seemed to be enough to catch Jaskier's attention. "Geralt! Geralt, this is my old friend Leita. We went to Oxford together, and she's still the best drummer I've ever seen. Where'd your drum go, by the way?"

She shrugged, smile fading slightly. "Lost it one time I had to leave town fast. Worked out for the best, though, lute's better for the road."

It wasn't hard for Geralt to imagine why a woman travelling alone might need to get out to town quickly. From his expression, it wasn't hard for Jaskier either, and he easily turned the conversation away. "Everyone loves a lute, even if some people," he nudged Geralt, "won't admit it."

"You're loud with or without it," Geralt grumbled.

Jaskier just laughed. He didn't even bother arguing back as he sometimes did, trying to convince Geralt to admit otherwise. He was clearly just delighted to be reunited with an old friend, and wouldn't let even a fake argument distract him from reminiscing. "He'll never admit he likes my singing," Jaskier confided to Leita, not even pretending like Geralt couldn't hear him, "but he hasn't left me behind yet! And his adventures are the perfect source of inspiration, I swear to Melitele, just on the journey here I earned more coin than I earned in my entire first year out of Oxenfurt."

He looked to Geralt as if for confirmation, and Geralt grunted. Jaskier wasn't the only one who had started being paid better, and it was worth it even if he had to hear that blasted song in what seemed like every inn on the continent.

Jaskier looked back and forth between them, then let out a slightly drunken giggle. "Leita, I didn't introduce you properly. Professor Paigren would be so disappointed." He tried to take another sip from his mug, but Geralt swiped it from his hand, putting it slightly further along the bar. The rest could wait until they'd eaten something, or Jaskier would complain endlessly in the morning about his hangover.

Jaskier barely seemed to notice, still too thrilled to have his friend there. "Does he even really need an introduction by now, though? Not to speak too highly of myself, but I have made you famous, Geralt. You know who he is, don't you, Leita?" He turned to Geralt. "Geralt, ask her who you are. I want to know if I've made you properly famous yet."

"Of course I know who you are! You're Jaskier's muse!" She laughed, also sounding slightly drunk, then sobered slightly, her smile softening from mirth into warmth. "And his friend."

Jaskier looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to deny it. It wasn't a sad look, just the look of someone who has long since grown used to making the best out of unfortunate circumstances. Geralt had seen it before, but realised now that he didn't like it. They'd travelled together, off and on, for over a decade now. Even if Geralt couldn't admit that Jaskier was a friend, he could at least admit that he wasn't not a friend.

Geralt stayed silent.

Jaskier waited, then his expectant look morphed into a beaming grin, slightly sloppy from the ale. He turned back to Leita. "Yes. He's my best friend."