Jaskier always gave the same speech when he needed to introduce himself. When he met Geralt for the first time, when he met Yennefer properly, and even when he met Ciri. He was the bard known as Jaskier! Did he have other names? Yes. He was Professor Pankratz, Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove, The Witcher's Bard, and recently The Sandpiper. But he loved being Jaskier. He didn't need to teach the youth and grade papers. He didn't have to work with his prison called a family. The Sandpiper was a temporary name he hadn't planned for; it was something he had made on the fly when an elf had asked for his name. He did not want to say Jaskier or else he would be arrested. And then finally The Witcher's Bard. He understood it, he truly did. It was what made him famous. But besides his Viscount status, it was his least favorite name. It implied he was nothing without Geralt, and when Geralt ended their friendship, it did nothing but sting. So he always introduced himself as the bard known as Jaskier. He possibly used it too much, he supposed. He wasn't sure if Geralt even knew his real name. He tried to introduce himself as Julian before to the dwarf camp back when he and Geralt first searched for the golden dragon, but he was sure no one noticed.

Two weeks after the incident with The Deathless Mother, Jaskier's presence was accepted by the princess, witchers, and witch. The witchers, in his own humble opinion, took a liking to him. They had told him they were already accustomed to his smell because Geralt had reeked of it; Jaskier would have found the statement odd if he had not been traveling with a witcher for over twenty years. He and Ciri had bonded when he brought her to Kaer Morhen and more after when they talked. Ciri came to like him as he always told her exactly what was happening. He didn't sugar-coat, and she appreciated it.

Jaskier was sitting at the end of a wooden table in Kaer Morhen. Ciri sat closest to him, Geralt beside her, Eskel, and then Vesemir. Yennefer sat across from Geralt and Lambert sat across from Eskel. They were eating bowls of soup and freshly baked bread for supper. The cold winter had brought night early, so they relied on candlelight from their chandeliers. Jaskier hated it. If he had his way, someone would have invented some sort of light source that didn't involve the nasty fire. He noticed the others conversing with one another and decided to keep his head down. His fingers still slightly stung from Reince's burns, and it made it difficult to eat. His hand never fully healed as he never properly treated it. The burns were mostly gone if not the tiniest hint of red, but they still felt stiff and hurt. He hoped they were too distracted to see him struggle with his shaking hand. He successfully got a spoonful in his mouth. It was a fine soup. It was salty and their vegetables were preserved well. He focused on his soup and ignored the conversation around him.

Geralt, Lambert, and Eskel were talking about Gwent when Ciri asked, "How do you play?"

Geralt responded, "Cirilla, Gwent is a game of strategy. The goal of the game is to win more points than your opponent. There are three rounds. You need to win two to win the overall game. You can place however many cards you wish until you pass. Then your opponent can place their cards. More cards mean you receive more points, however, you can only draw two cards in the second round and one in the third, so it is not wise to place all your cards at once. The cards are different and fall into different categories or factions. Each faction has a different ability-"

"Wait, Cirilla?" Lambert interrupted, "I thought your name was Ciri."

She shook her head playfully, "Is it a crime to have a nickname? Besides, I'm not the only one here who goes by something else."

Geralt looked around at the table and took everyone into account. Vesemir, Lambert, Eskel, and himself usually went by their full names. He called Yennefer Yen on occasion, but everyone else usually called her Yennefer or Witch with the exception of Jaskier. And then Jaskier was just, well, Jaskier. He didn't know him by anything else. In fact, there were a lot of things Geralt didn't know about Jaskier. He didn't know where he went during the winter during their travels when Geralt returned to Kaer Morhen. He didn't even know what his most recent song was or why he was in jail. But Jaskier was always like that. He talks constantly but never about himself.

Geralt grunted, "Who else?"

Ciri answered, "Jaskier."

Hearing his name, Jaskier looked up from his food, "Hmm?"

Lambert laughed, "It's a silly name, fit for a lass, but the bard's just Jaskier."

Ciri shook her head, "No. He told me he was the bard known as Jaskier."

Lambert nodded, "That's how he introduced himself to me."

Eskel nodded, "And me."

Geralt agreed, "He likes being dramatic."

Ciri ignored them and turned to Jaskier, "You said that you're known as Jaskier, not that your name is Jaskier. So what's your real name?"

Jaskier shrugged, "Julian. But I prefer my stage name."

Yennefer grinned ear to ear, "Julian? We've been calling you by your stage name this whole time?"

He glared, "Yes, and I'd prefer to keep it that way."

"Why?" Ciri asked, "There's nothing wrong with it."

Jaskier reached for his cup of ale. He said offhandedly, "I started going by Jaskier when I started attending Oxenfurt. I haven't been called Julian in decades," he took a sip, "Except maybe by other bards on occasion, but that's different."

"You know other bards?" Ciri asked excitedly.

He nodded, "Of course, my dear! I had other friends before I met Geralt, you know. And rivals too. I still do, that damn Valdo."

Geralt chuckled, "Valdo? The one you tried to curse with the djinn?"

Jaskier nodded, "He's such an ass. Did you know he tried to steal my songs back in university? He would hear me rehearsing and try to copy me. Then he would present them as if they were his own! He almost got me tossed out for plagiarism. Now the bastard parades around the continent claiming his songs are far superior to mine. Can you believe it?"

Vesemir chuckled, "You have quite a mouth on you, bard."

Yennefer smirked, "You should hear his latest song. What's it called again?"

"Whoreson Prison Blues," Jaskier supplied.

Yennefer fake-gasped, "You naughty boy, Julian."

He frowned, all joy leaving him, "Don't call me that."

Yennefer frowned as well, "Oh. Sorry."

"Prison," Vesemir changed the subject, "You were in prison?"

Jaskier brought his attention back to his soup. His hand rested on the table. He twitched his fingers. He nodded, trying to seem nonchalant but failing, "Yes."

Geralt hummed, noticing the discomfort. He could swear he could smell leathery fear as well. The others picked it up too and continued with their dinner.

After dinner was over, they retired to their rooms. Jaskier was close to his door when he heard small footsteps behind him. He turned and saw Ciri. He addressed her, "May I help you, my dear?"

She nodded and stepped closer. She bowed her head, "I'm sorry, Jaskier."

He frowned, "Whatever for?"

She looked up, and their blue eyes met. Hers were watery as she said, "Your name must be personal to you. I'm sorry for intruding."

He gave her a soft smile, "It is quite alright. It's of no consequence. My name is not secret. I simply don't prefer it."

She looked away, "May I ask why? Is that intruding?"

"It's quite alright," he said, "But perhaps we shall leave this for another time. It's late."

She nodded, "You're right. Goodnight Jaskier."

"Good night, Ciri."They parted ways and returned to their rooms. Jaskier sighed as he thought, 'Julian. I suppose it isn't too bad.'