Ciri was sitting in class alone for the first time in weeks. Ever since she asked Geralt for homework help, there had been at least one witcher in class with her. She'll never forget the day every witcher was in class with her, even Vesemir. Now finally with her peace of mind, with no questions about lessons they covered long ago, Jaskier stood in front of her continuing his lesson on the chalkboard. That day, they were dealing with mathematics.

While she watched and listened she noticed something a bit odd.

"Ciri," Professor Pankratz tried to get her attention, "Are you listening?"

"Yes," she said, "But may I ask you something?"

He blinked, "Uh, yes I suppose."

"Isn't this how you plan for city taxes?"

He nodded, "Yes."

She asked, "Then why do you know this?"

He paused as if thinking it over. He spoke, "My parents wanted me to learn it. You'll need to know this in case you ever reclaim your throne."

She sat back in her seat, "Okay."

They continued with the lesson.

When they were done for the day, Ciri left to find Yennefer. She was in the potions lab with Lambert. Yennefer noticed her first, "Ciri, come here."

She approached the two and saw beakers and tubes on a table behind them. Yennefer explained, "We're making health potions. They're useful for wounded witchers."

"What about anyone besides witchers?" Ciri asked.

Lamber shook his red head, "Nope. It only works on witchers, Princess."

Ciri frowned. The other witchers, and sometimes Geralt himself, always threw in the fact that she was a princess. Lambert, Eskel, and even Vesemir always teased her with it as if being royalty made her weak. When she didn't know something, they would be condescending. Jaskier rarely ever mentioned it, except for in class that day, but he was meaning well and didn't call her a princess directly. Now that she thought about it, he never really addressed her as a princess even during the lesson. He simply wanted her to learn it. She smiled to herself. Jaskier was one of her best teachers.

Lambert continued, "Now get over here. Let's teach you some potions, Your Majesty."

Later that day, Ciri was leaving the potions lab while holding a book. Her footsteps echoed the stone halls of Kaer Morhen. She rounded the corner and noticed a light humming.

She approached the sound. She saw a large window. From it, sunlight casted a silhouette on Kaer Morhen's stone walls. She saw Jaskier leaning on the windowsill. His hand, mostly fine with a small amount of bandages on the pads of two of his fingers, strummed slightly on his leg. He looked distracted as he looked out the frosty window. She spoke quietly, "Jaskier?"

He stopped and turned his attention to her, "Hmm?"

She asked, "What are you doing."

He looked back outside, "Composing a song."

She stepped forward, "Why aren't you writing it down or using your lute?"

"I'm afraid my lute's been broken," he said.

"Oh," she replied, "I'm sorry."

Jaskier assured, "It's alright," he turned and gave her a thin smile, "It was old and chipped and battle-worn. It's time I've gotten a new one."

Ciri nodded, but she wasn't happy. She could tell from his voice that he missed his lute. She didn't know much about bards, but even commoners knew bards valued their instruments. She decided to change the subject, "So what's your new song about?"

His tune changed, "Oh! It's nothing too fancy. I was singing of the snow."

She smiled, "You like it?"

He grinned as well, "Yes, my dear. I grew up in a town by the coast. We rarely had snow."

Ciri took the time to think to herself how odd their conversation had been. She had so many questions, and yet he never made fun of her for it. She said, "Jaskier, why do you never address me as a princess?"

He frowned in confusion, "Do you want me to?"

She scoffed, "No! It's that.. The others always make fun of me when I ask too many questions. They think all because I'm royalty that I'm ignorant and too stupid to understand them. They even say I shouldn't be allowed to wear dresses if I'm a real fighter."

Jaskier argued, "But Yennefer wears dresses, and she can fight."

"I know!" Ciri exclaimed, "But I'm still just Princess to them."

Jaskier huffed, "Well, I will not call you Princess unless requested."

"Thank you," she said, "But Jaskier, you didn't answer my question."

"I didn't?"

She said, "They use it to tease me. Yennefer uses it as a pet name. But you've never called me Princess or My Lady or anything like that. Why haven't you?"

He shook his head and replied, "Because you're not."

She frowned, "What?"

Jaskier explained, "You're not a princess. Not anymore. You're here now. You're not Princess Cirilla of Cintra. You're just Ciri."

She said, "That's not how it works."

He shrugged, "That's how it's been for me."

She repeated, "What?"

Jaskier explained, "How I see it, titles are often meaningless. They don't prove power or worth or some gods-given talent. Nobility is simply a title you're born with, but I believe you can reject it. Ever since I left my old life behind back in Lettenhove, I've never considered myself a noble. I'll perform for them, work for them, but I've never pulled rank. Not on Geralt and not on anybody."

Ciri dropped her book, "I- wait- you- what? You're nobility?"

Jaskier shrugged, "Not anymore."

She asked, "But-but how? Why not?"

Jaskier huffed, "I suppose there's no use in hiding it now. Yes, I am or rather was nobility. My full title is Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove. I ran away to become a bard."

She was starstruck, "You're a viscount? Jaskier, that's a big deal. You own land. You have servants."

He shook his head, "No, Ciri. It wasn't a privilege; it was a prison."

Ciri frowned, "Was it too strict?"

He shrugged, "I had my entire life planned out. My parents never fully wanted me, so if anything I was only an insurance. I didn't mean anything to them. They wouldn't let me outside or play with other children. It was my grandmother who taught me music. My grandmother married into nobility, so she understood what it was like to live. She had to teach me in secret because everyone else thought it was useless. When she died, all I had left was her music."

She asked, "Is that why you ran away?"

Jaskier said, "No. When I was around your age, my parents tried to force me into a loveless arranged marriage. She was a countess but a fair twenty to thirty years older than me. They said it would benefit us and expand our political power. It would benefit her because they needed someone young to produce her an heir before she was too old. I didn't want it. I didn't want her. I knew I would still be stuck under her just like I had been with everyone else. So, the day before we were to wed, I snuck into the treasury, stole what I could, climbed out of one of the windows, and left."

She shook her head in shame, "I understand. Mousesack said I was going to wed one of the noble boys."

He nodded, "So you understand. It makes you feel powerless."

Ciri commented, "My grandparents were arranged."

Jaskier said, "Sometimes arranged marriages can work, but they never will if you don't want them to."

She asked, "How did you survive? Surely it was difficult."

He said, "It was. I took the streets, sneaking into merchant carts to travel, and somehow stumbled onto Oxenfurt. I performed in bars and on the street to make coin. Someone approached me one day while I was singing. He was a professor at Oxenfurt and offered me a work-study program. He said I had too much potential to waste."

Ciri smiled, "He sounds like a good man."

He agreed, "He was. It was a shame when he died of lung fever."

"So what happened next?"

He shrugged, "I met people, made friends, met other bards. I graduated top of my class and was offered a teaching position. One time during my off-season, I took to a tavern where I had the worst performance of my life! I had no muse. Then I saw Geralt sitting at a table in the corner and made my move. The rest is history."

Ciri looked away, "Do you ever miss it?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes I feel like Viscount Pankratz of Lettenhove and Jaskier are two different people. Geralt doesn't know this, but I had to negotiate for his pay at times because hires didn't want to pay him at all. It's times like those that I feel like a trained politician and not a bard," Jaskier sighed, "I imagine you miss your old life as a princess. That's fine. There's no reason for you to feel guilty. Perhaps someday, you may regain your throne. Until then, you're here with me and Geralt and the lot. Until then, you're just Ciri."

She nodded, "And you're Jaskier."

"Unless absolutely needed."

A beat of silence greeted them. Jaskier coughed, "You might want to pick up your book?"

"Oh!" Ciri exclaimed, "I've forgotten."

Jaskier waved his hand, "We've been here for long enough. Geralt must be looking for you."

She reached down and grabbed her book, "You're right. Bye, Jaskier."

"Bye, Ciri."

She left. She walked further down the halls. When she turned a corner and ran into Geralt and Vesemir. They looked at her as if expecting her to be there. Vesemir greeted, "Good evening, Ciri."

She greeted, "Hello."

Geralt informed, "Dinner will be ready soon. Go wash."

She left them. Geralt and Vesemir talked amongst themselves.

Vesemir started, "I told you something was strange about your bard."

Geralt replied, "I don't think they heard us."

"We have better hearing. They don't."

"I thought it was strange that he avoided Lettenhove."

"He's mentioned it before?"

"I had a job there once. It was the only time he refused to go."

They listened in and heard more humming. Geralt mentioned, "Jaskier's back to song-making."

Vesemir nodded, "Let's leave him to it."

Later that night, after dinner, the witchers found themselves in a storage room. They weren't expecting to have the extra company, so they were running low on supplies.

Lambert argued, "This is your fault, Geralt! If you didn't bring the princess, bard, and witch along, we wouldn't be in this mess."

"And where else would I have taken them?" Geralt challenged, "They are my family just as much as you are."

Eskel added, "You could have at least given us a heads up!"

Vesemire interrupted, "Boys, stop fighting. This is getting us nowhere."

They quieted, though not happy about it. Vesemire said, "We'll need to ration it. Nothing more. Nothing less. Perhaps one of us can venture out and hunt or travel down the nearest town."

Lamber asked, "Has that ever been done before?"

Vesemir hummed. He said, "Not in my lifetime, but it's possible."

Eskel said, "But how are we going to ration this out? We've overprepared for most winters until now. We can ration ourselves, but who here would know how to ration a crowd? "Cause I don't."

Vesemir said, "I could try, but I would like a second opinion."

Geralt gave his mentor a knowing look, "I bet I know a noble most likely trained to prepare an entire town in case of drought."

Lambert and Eskel glanced at each other confusingly. Eskel asked, "Ciri?"

Geralt shook his head, "No."

Lambert and Eskel couldn't believe their eyes. The bard, the dopey, air-headed, singsongy bard, was charting their inventory with Vesemir. Eskel whispered to his brother, "He does know mathematics."

Lambert whispered back, "Geralt said he was trained?"

"But he's just a bard?" Eskel returned.

They shrugged.

After they took inventory, Vesemir told his boys, "We can ration it out for another month. We'll need someone else to venture for supplies.

Eskel said, "I'll go."

"No," Vesemir demanded, "I want Geralt and Jaskier to go."

Lambert argued, "But why!? He's just a bard."

"I think he'll be useful," Vesemir said, "I want Jaskier to go, and Geralt will go with him. If you two want to do something, you can try hunting, but stay close."

Eskel and Lambert unhappily agreed.

Geralt and Jaskier found themselves in matching black hooded cloaks with fur lining. It was a bit large on Jaskier, but he was borrowing one of Geralt's extras. They mounted Roach and left.

They clomped in the snow, and Geralt heard Jaskier's teeth chattering. The witcher sighed, "He shouldn't have made you go."

Jaskier shivered, "I-it's fine, Geralt."

Geralt grunted, "When we get to town, we'll find you something warm to wear."

"But, you'll need the coin. Don't waste it," Jaskier scolded.

"It's not wasting," Geralt responded, "We need to keep your hands warm. The winter is going to get worse."

Jaskier argued, "But I have been keeping them warm!"

Geralt disagreed, "Gauze and tape doesn't help, and it makes you look injured."

Jaskier briefly flexed his stiff hand. He said, "Yeah, I guess it does."

Geralt concluded, "It's not fair to you. Even Yen has a change of clothes."

Jaskier frowned, "It would be nice not to be completely naked when I'm doing my laundry, but when do you care when things aren't fair?"

Geralt became silent. Jaskier rolled his eyes and sighed, "Unbelievable."

After what felt like weeks, though admittedly it was only 2 days, they reached a town. The first thing Geralt did was drag Jaskier into a tavern. The man had slowly gotten quieter on day two, and Geralt could swear the bard's lips were turning blue. Jaskier wasn't responding to much, and Geralt's only comfort was Jaskier's audible breathing. He would be lying if he said he wasn't worried. He hated that humans were always so fragile.

After haphazardly tossing Jaskier at one of the tables by a fire pit, Geralt abandoned him and approached the bar. An older female barkeep approached him, "What will it be, witcher?"

"I need supplies. Any food that can last the winter. Blankets, gloves, something warm."

She laughed, "You sure know how to plan for winter. If you haven't noticed, White Wolf, we're all struggling. You ain't the first one stumbling in here."

He tried to stay calm, "I have unexpected guests, and they need supplies," he shrugged towards Jaskier, "Look at the bard. He's turning blue."

She gasped, "Oh! The famous witcher's bard! I heard you two had broken up. Quiet a singer, he is. Performed here once," she sighed, "I guess I could squeeze in a room tonight for the bard. It'll cost you."

Geralt agreed, "How much?"

Geralt didn't like it and knew she was most likely overcharging him, but he was determined to get Jaskier somewhere warm. The room was nothing special: a cheap wooden chair and desk by the wall and a single bed just large enough for the two of them. He practically carried the stiff man to their cheap bed and dumped him on it, clothes and all. Geralt unclasped Jaskier's cloak so he wasn't wearing anything wet and covered the bard in blankets. Geralt stepped back from his work and said, "You better stay alive. I heard you when you told Ciri you argued for me to get paid. I can't repay you if you're dead."

Geralt stayed awake for the entire night watching Jaskier. Over time, the bard regained color, and Geralt was hopeful that he would be up and about the next day.

The sun had risen, and Geralt took the opportunity to let Jaskier sleep in. He tracked down a barmaid just as the tavern opened and was able to get his hands on some food. It was light and wasn't much, but it was all he needed. He kept in mind that he would need to save money to buy Jaskier food later. He returned to their room to gather his furs and venture into the bitter cold.

When he creaked their door open, he was surprised to find Jaskier sitting on the wooden chair that had been dragged to the middle of the floor. He sat with his furs on and arms crossed. He scowled, "And where have you been?"

Geralt scoffed, "What are you, my mother?"

Jaskier ignored him, "Don't tell me you were going to me leave here."

Geralt rolled his yellow eyes, "You were frozen. I was keeping you warm."

Jaskier huffed, "Yes, but I'm fine now. Vesemir wanted me to come along. You can't leave me in that foul-smelling bed."

Geralt shook his head, "Calm down. You were practically blue. The markets should be opening soon. We should go before they're sold out.

Jaskier sighed, "For once, you're right. Let's go."

Geralt cocked an eyebrow, "For once?"

"You heard me."

The outside market stalls were almost barren, and they weren't having much luck. Geralt and Jaskier found an indoor shop and decided that it would be better for their health if they stayed sheltered. They parked Roach outside and entered.

The shop wasn't much to look at. The wooden shelves housed dried meats and cheeses. Geralt took notice of bags of flour and buckets of dried fruits. Geralt also took notice that the shopkeep at his counter was looking rather bored as if he wasn't expecting anyone to be there, and a thin layer of dust surrounded small lanterns and knick-knacks on the shopkeep's weathered counter.

Geralt and Jaskier approached the shopkeep. Jaskier knocked on the desk, and the man jumped with a start. Geralt grunted, "We need supplies. Meat, flour, hay, ink."

The man scrambled about, and slowly but surely, the witcher and bard had as much supplies as Roach could comfortably carry. But then came the matter of price. When the shopkeep informed them of the costs, Jaskier did not agree.

"That's ridiculous," Jaskier argued, "We've bought more for less."

The shopkeep said, "Ah, but you might have noticed that supplies are scarce. Supply and demand and all that."

"You aren't the only shop in town. Do you truly think you're so clever to be the only one who stocked for the winter?"

The shopkeep frowned. His mouth opened, but he couldn't think of a retort.

Geralt saw something he couldn't quite explain. Maybe it was the way Jaskier had squared his shoulders or held his head high. Maybe it was his demanding, no-nonsense tone of voice. Maybe it was the way he lied to the shopkeep who was indeed the only one in town who properly stocked for winter. But something was different about it. This wasn't the cheerful and goofy bard he knew. This was a politician.

Viscount Pankratz informed, "Your products are aged," he swiped his finger across a lamp on the counter and showed his grayed finger, "You haven't had buyers in ages. Your products and our time deserve a much more reasonable price."

The shopkeep fidgetted, "I-I suppose I can lower it…"

The two haggled prices back and forth until the viscount suggested they pay only 150 crowns. The shopkeep said, "That's outrageous! I can't afford-"

Viscount Pankratz raised his hand and silenced the man. He said dryly, "Take it or we're leaving."

The shopkeep hesitated. The viscount turned to Geralt, "Witcher, we're leaving."

"Wait!" the shopkeep yelled, "150 crowns! I'll take it! Please, don't go!"

The Viscount of Lettenhove did not react. He said, "Witcher, take the supplies to the horse while I pay."

Geralt didn't appreciate how cold Jaskier was to him, but he took the opportunity and prepared Roach anyway. After he had her packed and brushed the snow off of her, Jaskier exited the shop. He kept a serious air about him until he reached Geralt. Jaskier cracked and grinned from ear to ear. He exclaimed, "I can't believe it! What a deal!"

Geralt relaxed. He said, "I didn't know you were so good at bartering."

He shrugged, "My parents often talked to traders and didn't want me to get conned."

Geralt hummed. Jaskier wasn't saying outright that he was nobility. Geralt decided to say, "We have extra. Let's buy hot meals and new clothes for you."

Jaskier nodded, "Food sounds good. I'm starving."

They found themselves in their original tavern with bowls of hot soup. They sat by a window and kept Roach in their sights.

Jaskier swallowed a spoonful. He said off-handedly, "Maybe I should barter for the soup. Almost no one is in town. I could play off that."

Geralt shook his head, "The soup is a fair price."

Jaskier nodded, "Yeah. I'm glad we got to leave Later Morhen for a spell. I've never been good at staying in one place."

"You stay in Oxenfurt," Geralt pointed out.

"I have more people to talk to there," Jaskier replied.

They both ate some more, and Geralt saw that Jaskier was almost finished. He decided that was the best time to bite the bullet and say what he overheard. He started, "Jaskier."

Jaskier looked from his bowl and swallowed, "Hmm?"

"I heard you and Ciri talking."

Jaskier's face became crestfallen, "Oh. You did?"

Geralt nodded. He asked, "Why didn't you tell me you were a viscount?"

Jaskier looked back down at his bowl, "It was an accident."

Geralt said, "Not telling me your first name was an accident. Not telling me you were a professor was an accident. But this is not."

Jaskier mumbled something about "damn witchers". Geralt said, "Did you think I would think less of you?"

"Maybe," the bard admitted, "I thought you would think of me as weak and send me back."

"Why would I do that?"

"They had a bounty at first. I don't know if they still do," Jaskier explained, "I can't go back Geralt. I can't! I was an only child with a mother who saw me as a tool and a father who insisted I was too strange to be his. I couldn't, Geralt. I couldn't. I can't. I-"

"Stop," Geralt demanded, "I don't care about the reward. Calm down."

Jaskier said, "Sorry."

Geralt mentioned, "You're an excellent barter."

"Thanks," Jaskier complimented, "I needed to learn how to prepare Lettenhove for winter, so it helps."

"That's why you could sort our supplies with Vesemir," Geralt concluded, "That's why he wanted you here."

Jaskier asked, "Does he know too?"

Geralt said, "Yes, but he wouldn't want to harm you either. If anything, he finds it useful."

Jaskier nodded, "Good," he stood, "Roach is getting cold, we should go."

Geralt agreed, "We need to make another stop. Then we can leave."

Five days since they left Kaer Morhen, Geralt and Jaskier returned. Eskel and Lambert unloaded everything while the others watched. Geralt, Vesemir, Ciri, Yennefer, and Jaskier stood with their furs in the snow. Vesemir watched his boys and took note of their supplies. The others chatted. Jaskier was still wearing Geralt's old too-large black cloak, but he also had a nice blue buttoned shirt and black gloves on. Yennefer rubbed her hand on Jaskier's new blue shirt sleeve. "Soft," she pointed out, "Is it warm?"

Jaskier happily said, "Yes! Much warmer!"

Yennefer commented, "Gloves as well. The black with the fur is so cute. I might have to steal them."

Lambert threw a bag of flour on his shoulder, "Must have been pricey."

Eskel walked by with his own bag, "How could you afford all this?"

Geralt gave a small grin, "Jaskier's good at bartering. He haggled all of our supplies for only 150 crowns."

Eskel stuttered while Lambert dropped his flour. Lambert insisted, "But there's over 500 crowns worth of stuff in here!"

Jaskier nodded, "I know. Roach must be very strong to carry it."

Eskel insisted, "There's no way they sold this to you. Are you sure you didn't smuggle it?"

Geralt explained, "He had the shopkeep beg us to buy it. Convinced him he needed to sell it to us."

The Eskel and Lambert shared a look. Jaskier laughed, "You should have seen him! You say the right things, and they go squirming!"

Vesemir told the two brothers, "Stop standing around. I need this charted and put away," he turned to Jaskier, "When this is done, care to join us with a game of Gwent?'

Jaskier responded, "Can I?"

Vesemir chuckled, "Of course. I want to see you bluff."

"Can I play too?" Ciri asked.

Geralt responded, "I don't know. I'll have to teach you."

"Please," she begged, "It won't be an issue."

When Geralt and Vesemir looked unsure, Jaskier leaned down and whispered to her, "I'll teach you. We'll do so well, we'll make them cry."

That night, Jaskier and Ciri almost made the witchers cry. Almost. After the sixteenth game, Lambert threw all his cards, Eskel scrambled to hide his coin, Geralt chugged a bottle of white gull, Yennefer drank straight from a wine bottle, and Vesemir blinked his misty eyes in disappointment.