Geralt, Yennefer, Ciri, Lambert, Eskel, and Jaskier were crowded around a small and cheap room they had gotten in a local inn. There was only one bed fit for two people, one wooden chair, and one small desk by a frosted window. It was late in the evening, and the fading orange of the sun lit the window. A lantern and a measly pile of coins rested on the desk. Ciri and Yennefer were sitting on the bed, Geralt had taken the chair, Eskel and Lambert had taken to sitting on the floor or leaning again the stone walls by the desk, and Jaskier was standing by the old wooden door. Eskel, closest to the coins, said, "We're not going to have enough for supplies."

After the events at Kaer Morhen, the group decided they needed to go into town for winter supplies. They had some, but they did not have any to accommodate the additional witch, child surprise, and bard. Unfortunately, witchers were not known for keeping a heavy coin purse, so they were in their current dilemma.

Lambert huffed, "We would if we didn't waste our money on this room."

Geralt's deep voice rang out disapprovingly, "Ciri and Yen aren't made for the cold."

"Neither is Jaskier," Yennefer pointed out.

Eskel suggested, "I could look for jobs from the innkeeper."

Geralt shook his head, "Most monsters are hibernating for the winter."

"We could still try," Eskel insisted.

Ciri said, "We could try selling something."

Lambert smirked, "And what would you sell? The clothes off your back?"

She, much like her plan, deflated. They fell into silence.

Jaskier sighed before he shuffled, "I'll be back."

Confused, Yennefer was going to ask where, but Jaskier was already out the door.

Eskel waved him off, "He's probably off to the can. Leave him be. So any other ideas?"

After a few hours, Jaskier had not returned. The group still sat waiting with no new plan. Lambert grumbled, "Geralt, go check on your human. See if he fell in."

Geralt replied, "He's not a pet."

Geralt obliged anyway and left downstairs to the bar. The main area was bustling with peasants from simple pig farmers to whores. The inn was not made for the wealthy. Geralt didn't mind the crowd so much as the putrid smell it gave off. He approached the bar, a greasy overweight bald man with an apron tending to it, and said, "I'm looking for someone."

The man stopped cleaning the glass in his hand and responded, "I could help you with that, Witcher."

Geralt asked, "I'm looking for a member of my party. Pale skin, brown hair, and a purple leather coat. Have you seen him?"

The bartender nodded, "Aye. Saw him leave a while ago. He wouldn't happen to be a bard, would he?"

Geralt nodded, and the man said, "Then I think I heard a rumor that he went to The Watering Hole."

"Where's that?" the Witcher asked.

The bartender said, "It's a tavern on the other side of town. Don't waste your coin there, Witcher. It's meant for the rich. Far too fancy for the common folk."

Geralt furrowed his white brows, "Hmm."

He gave his thanks to the bartender before returning to their room. The door creaked open, and the attention of his family greeted him. He took note that Lambert had stolen his chair before he said offhandedly, "The bartender said he went to a different tavern."

Lambert threw his hands, his red hair swishing as he did so. He yelled, "Great! No, just great! Perfect even! He's spending all his money! We could have used it."

Geralt shrugged, "It's his money to spend."

Lambert huffed, "We're spending our hard-earned money on supplies for him, and he doesn't have the decency to share?"

Eskel scratched his scarred face, "We're pulling all of our money together. He should have offered."

Yennefer from the bed shrugged, "Jaskier is just like that. He doesn't use his head sometimes."

Geralt chuckled at that, "He gets into trouble more often than others. That's how he is."

Ciri said, "It's his money, but I wish he would have asked first."

Lambert calmed down, "There's no need to get worked up over some idiot. We need a plan."

Hours later, they had not made any progress. Ciri had fallen asleep on the bed, and an unbothered Eskel slept on the floor. Geralt was half asleep in his reclaimed chair. Lambert made room on the desk to sit on, and Yennefer sat on the bed wide awake. It was late at night, and she watched the twinkling sky through the frosty glass. In the still quietness, she said softly, "You're too harsh on him."

Confused, Lamber also said quietly, "What?"

She clarified, "Jaskier. I know he can seem like a sing-songy twat, but he is a good person. Didn't Geralt ever talk about him?"

Lambert shrugged, "A few times. Only after we asked why he smelled so weird."

When Yennefer looked at him puzzlingly, he elaborated, "Us witchers try to return to the keep every winter. A few years ago, when Geralt returned, he reeked of something else. Like flowery bath salts and grass."

"Like a clean person who spends time outside?" Yennefer said amused.

Lambert huffed, "Yes. Eskel tried to wring out the answers, but it didn't do much. Dad- Vesemir got it out of him. He said some kid started following him around and wouldn't leave him alone. I thought it was hilarious. Eskel suggested that a travel companion wouldn't be such a bad idea. Vesemir wasn't too happy about it."

She asked, "Why not?"

"We're supposed to ride the path alone," he explained, "We live for a very long time. When the human dies, it'll crush him."

Yennefer nodded, "It will."

A soft knocking came to the door before it creaked open. Jaskier entered. He was disheveled. His coat was barely hanging onto one shoulder. Wariness strangled his blue eyes, and Yennefer could tell he was struggling to stay awake. Lambert commented, "Look who decided to come back."

Yennefer hopped out of bed as well and pitter-pattered her way to him. Geralt awoke and cracked open his eyes. Yennefer whispered-yelled, "Where were you? I was worried sick."

He answered softly and unbothered, "A tavern."

"So it's true," she said, "Why did you go?"

He sighed before reaching into his coat. A clinking sound was made very apparent as he pulled out a rather heavy and bulging coin bag. Lambert raised his ginger eyebrows and Yennefer's eyes dropped, "Oh, Jaskier."

"I was performing," he explained, "The other tavern is better quality, so it has better-paying patrons. Here, take it."

She reached out and lifted the bag. She studied it before saying worriedly, "You didn't have to do that. You're still hurt. Even I know the public lutes are low quality. What if you reopened your burns? You can't perform without your hands."

This took Geralt's attention. Jaskier didn't notice and informed her, "It's fine, really. I ran into an old colleague. She helped."

A soft female voice from the hallway behind Jaskier said, "Are you ready, Julian?"

He smiled at Yennefer, "She has a room here. It'll be less crowded. I'll see you in the morning."

Now coinless, Jaskier turned and left. Yennefer caught a glimpse of long blonde hair before he closed the door.

Left alone with a fair amount of funds, Yennefer stood stunned. She whispered angrily to no one in particular, "We're horrible."

Geralt asked, "What's wrong?"

Yennefer turned and looked at him, "Of course, he would be at a tavern. He's a bard, remember?"

Lambert sunk in his seat, "He is?"

She nodded, "And we didn't give him a chance."

Eskel stirred awake, "What's going on?"

Lambert answered guiltily, "Turns out the human is a bard and earned us coin."

Eskel sat up, "He did?"

He nodded.

Geralt asked Yennefer, "What's wrong with his hands?"

"What?" she questioned.

Geralt asked seriously, "What's wrong with his hands? Did he burn himself?"

Yennefer clutched the coins to her chest, "Geralt, did he not tell you?"

Geralt sat up straight. He demanded, "Did he tell me what?"

"The Firefucker."

Geralt shook his head. Yennefer sighed, "Before you found him, I went to him for his help. He has some connections I needed, and he was happy to oblige. But then he got kidnapped by a sorcerer name Reince. He's the Firefucker."

Geralt growled, "What did he do to him?"

Yennefer explained, "I don't know. I didn't find him until hours later at daybreak. When I found him, The Firefucker had him tied to a chair. He was asking questions about you, and he was burning Jaskier's hand."

"His hand," Geralt growled, "He knew Jaskier needs his hands."

She continued, "When we escaped, we got separated again. I don't know what happened after that. You said you found him in prison?"

Geralt nodded, "Yes. I don't know what the charges were."

Eskel turned to his redheaded brother, "You've misjudged Jaskier."

Lambert said, "I know. The little bugger got tortured for Geralt- for us! And I was mad that he didn't fight against the basilisks."

Yennefer looked down at the coins, "You should be grateful. All of you. He's done much more than we give him credit for."

Geralt looked down at his hand, angry with himself. After a beat of silence, he said, "Jaskier wrote Toss a Coin."

Lambert bluntly asked, "What?"

Geralt explained, "That song, Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. The one about witchers being friends to humanity. He wrote it."

"Woah," Eskel said amazed, "That's where that came from?"

Yennefer asked confusingly, "You didn't know he wrote Toss a Coin?"

Eskel shook his head, "One day, townsfolk started paying us more. It wasn't completely fair, but it was still better. Then Lamber and I started going to taverns and bars and heard bards all across the contentious singing Toss a Coin to Your Witcher. I promised myself I would thank whoever wrote that song."

"Then you should tell him," a soft voice said.

Yennefer looked over and saw Ciri was slightly awake. Ciri whispered, "Tell him tomorrow. Buy him something nice for the tip back."

Geralt nodded, "That's a good idea, Ciri. Go back to sleep."

She nodded wearily and snuggled back into the cheap blanket.

"What happened to his lute?" Geralt asked.

Yennefer shrugged, "I think The Firefucker broke it."

Lambert and Eskel nodded, picking up Geralt's suggestion. Lambert said, "With those coins, "I'm sure we'll have more than enough money."

They started to settle down, and the others started to sleep. Geralt stayed awake as he thought of what Yennefer had told him. He grumbled, "Fuck. I'm going to kill that Firefucker."

Back with Jaskier, after he left his earnings with Yennefer, he and his colleague returned to her room.

The blonde beauty, Callonetta the Bard, took off her red hat and tossed it onto the two-person bed. She ran her hand through her blonde hair, "Some night."

Jaskier peeled off his coat and dropped it on the floor, "I haven't seen a crowd that large in ages."

Priscilla took her lute off of her back and gently propped it against the wall by the bed. She twisted her back, and her dress, mostly blue with orange sleeves and yellow frill on the breasts, swished. She stretched upward, her back cracking, before sighing in relief. She turned and smiled at Jaskier, her green eyes shining. She asked, "What are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years."

Jaskier also cracked his back before answering, "The group I'm with is getting supplies here."

"That's why you gave away your coin," she said.

He nodded, "And why are you here, dear Priscilla?"

She answered, "A traveling bard may go wherever she pleases."

A knock on their wooden door rang out. Priscilla announced, "I'll get it."

A mousy girl in a dirty apron stood at the door. She asked, "Did you order a bath, my lady."

Priscilla answered, "I did. Thank you."

The mousy girl left the door open, and more workers carried in a tub and buckets of hot water. Jaskier grinned; he hadn't had a proper bath in quite a while. Priscilla approached Jaskier. Her rough hands, much like his from playing the lute, reached forward and took hold of his golden necklace. She played with it, "When did you start wearing jewelry?"

He shrugged, "It was a gift, I'm afraid. One of the students at Oxenfurt gave it to me as a thank you. For inspiring her, she said."

"You're teaching there?"

"During the winters mostly."

"You always said you would."

She looked up from the jewelry, and her green eyes met his blue, "You haven't aged a day, my love."

He grinned, "You haven't either, my dear."

The mousy girl approached them, "I'm sorry to interrupt, but your bath is ready. We'll leave you now."

They nodded their thanks, and the group left. Priscilla's eyes sparkled with mischief, "Help me undress? Lacing is my downfall."

His eyes softened, "How can you ask me such a thing? We've had almost no contact for years."

"Because," she said, "I've missed you. Did you ever think of me?"

"Of course," he said, almost offended, "Constantly. Almost every day."

She quickly reached down and took his hands, "Then come now. I haven't had a proper bath in ages."

Jaskier and Priscilla took no time in undressing. The two of them barely fit in the tub facing each other. Despite the two not officially being a couple for years, possibly decades, they were not uncomfortable sharing. Jaskier chalked it up as constantly bathing a gross gut-cover Geralt. He refused to believe it was because she made him feel safe and at home.

Jaskier was focusing on scrubbing his arms with a rag when he felt eyes on him. He looked up and saw Priscilla studying his chest. She frowned and said upsettingly, "What happened to you?"

"What?"

"Why do you have so many cuts?" she asked, "Did someone hurt you?"

He halted his cleaning and looked down at his chest. It was harder to see due to his hair, but he would make out burns, bruises, and small burns. He had gotten from the man with the fire and never properly treated them. He never properly treated his hand either. Between going to prison, taking Ciri or Kaer Morhen, the of the business with The Deathless Mother, and climbing back down the mountain in hopes of buying supplies, he simply didn't have the time. A quick glance at her worried face subdued all thoughts of lying. He could never lie to Priscilla; even back when they first met at Oxenfurt as bard-to-bes, he couldn't lie to her. He said, "Yes. A few days ago, a man wanted to ask me some questions about Geralt. I wouldn't tell him anything."

Her blonde eyebrows furrowed, "Geralt? As in Geralt of Rivia? Don't tell me you're The Witcher's Bard."

He shook his head, "I wasn't for a while. I met Geralt in Posada shortly after we graduated. I wrote Toss a Coin and followed Geralt for nearly 20 years."

Priscilla slowly scooted forward until she was practically in Jaskier's lap. She gently took the rag from his hands and began using it to clean his wounds correctly. She softly spoke, "I love that song. I sing it in almost every tavern."

Jaskier nodded and continued to let her clean him. He continued his story, "We were traveling companions for decades. But there was also that witch, Yennefer of Vengerberg, with her fancy magic and charms. Geralt would always much rather keep company with her than me."

She giggled, "Oh really now?"

He huffed in fake annoyance, "Yes! Can you believe it? He said I never knew when to be quiet."

"You never did," she added.

"Hey!" he protested, "But, yes. Geralt and Yennefer would date, argue, break apart, and a few months to years later, they would reunite. It was quite bothersome really. However, one day Geralt and I were looking for a golden dragon, believe it or not, when the dragon took on the form of a man and told Geralt to end his relationships. So he did. He left me on a mountainside by myself and Yennefer shortly after. We didn't see each other again until a few days ago."

"That's terrible," she said, "I've been in a troupe until recently. They decided they wanted someone different. That's why I'm here by myself. I'm sorry. I know how much it hurts."

Priscilla lowered the rag and smoothed her hand on Jaskier's hairy chest. She asked, "Why did we ever break apart?"

Jaskier gave it some thought. He wasn't overly sure. He and Priscilla were exceptionally close. She took his side when Valdo tried to steal his songs. They even wrote songs together. Priscilla had been the only woman in Jaskier's life that he ever considered marrying, which he found a bit odd because the reason he ran away from his viscount status was to avoid marriage.

"We drifted apart," he decided, "You joined a troupe and I followed a witcher. It wasn't on purpose."

She shook her head, "No, it wasn't."

He reached over and grabbed the soap resting on the outside of the tub with supplies such as scent bath salt and sudsed his hands. He lovingly leaned forward and began to scrub Priscilla's hair, "We should hurry. The water's getting cold."

They finished cleaning themselves. After Priscilla dried off, she slipped into a white nightgown. Jaskier dried off and slipped into his underwear. He did not have any clothes besides what he was already wearing, and quite frankly his tight and flashy pants sounded awful. He heard clanking and noticed Priscilla was searching in a travel pack. She pulled out a glass bottle and a roll of bandages and said, "Pull out that chair. Let me dress you."

He didn't argue and did as he was told. He gritted his teeth when she slathered a stinging goop on his burns. "Sorry, my love," she apologized.

"Don't be," he informed her, "And thank you."

She said while continuing her work, "We did well with our performance today."

"We did."

"We should do it more often."

He frowned, "I-I would love to, but… Geralt wants me to stay in his witcher keep for now, and I'm not exactly on good terms with some people. I might actually be wanted right now."

She arched an eyebrow, "Whatever for?"

He said, "Geralt may or may not have broken me out of prison."

"Oh?" she asked surprised, "And what were you in prison for?"

He blushed, "For being a peeping Tom. But I swear it's not what it looks like!"

"What is it then?" she asked.

"I was looking for Yennefer," he explained, "She helped me escape the man who was looking for Geralt., but we became separated in town. I went looking for her, but then two brutes grabbed me and declared me as a peeping Tom."

"Hmm," she hummed, "Did you try to explain?"

"Yes, but they wouldn't listen."

"How rude. I'm done. May I please see your hands?" she asked.

Jaskier looked at her confused until he remembered their earlier performance. He came in asking to sing a capella because he wasn't sure his burned finger could handle a lute. The bartender said no, but luckily Callonetta noticed from the stage and offered to play for him. They had their own individual songs and duets they haven't sung in years.

He offered his hands palms up, and she started to dress the burns.

Priscilla said, "And, done. That should do it. We'll change them in the morning."

They climbed into bed together, at first keeping a rather large distance between them. Jaskier closed his eyes and began to drift.

He hazily felt something softly caressing his uninjured hand. They were spelling letters. I-L-O-V-E-Y-O-U. I love you.

He cracked a sapphire eye open and saw Priscilla tracing her finger on his hand.

"That tickles, you know," he whispered.

"Sorry," she whispered back.

He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed it.

"I missed you," he said.

"I missed you too."

They cuddled closer and wrapped themselves in each other's arms. Jaskier breathed deeply as he took in the scent of lilacs and berries.

She whispered, "Good night, Julian."

He whispered back, "Good night, Priscilla."

The next morning, Julian Alfred Pankratz aka Jaskier the Bard and Priscilla aka Callonetta the Bard said their goodbyes and promised to write. Jaskier returned to Geralt and Company's room just in time for a barreling hug and many thank yous from Ciri. They spent the day at the market buying food and supplies for the winter. They even surprised Jaskier by buying him new clothes so he had more than one outfit. With the leftover coin, Yennefer was able to haggle herself a lute. It wasn't as fine as Jaskier's previous one, but he was grateful nonetheless and told her he would play her a song as soon as his fingers were healed. They returned to Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier promised himself he would reunite with Priscilla as soon as he could.