Try, Please Try For Me

I Will Always Come For You

Eskel arrives a few days later. They're in the main hall eating breakfast, Jaskier tucked into Geralt's side, leeching his warmth as Vesemir re-lights the hearth, and Lambert sitting across from them, tapping his fork on the table mindlessly in a way that only makes Geralt minorly have the urge to rip it from his hands and chuck it to the floor.

They all jump slightly at the gust of cold air and snow that whips into the room when the doors swing open, revealing a very snow-covered and tired looking Eskel in the entranceway.

"Eskel!" Lambert perks up immediately, rising from the bench and goes over to meet the other wolf, clasping him into an embrace.

"Lambert," Eskel nods. "Good to see you've survived another year without someone killing you for being too annoying."

The youngest witcher grins, punching his brother's arm lightly. "They tried, but I'm still kicking."

At that Eskel barks a laugh. Then he looks over to where Geralt is approaching the two of them, Jaskier hovering nervously behind.

"Good to have you back, Eskel," Geralt says, hugging him fiercely.

Eskel returns the hug in that rib-crushing way he likes to, then pulls away, pressing their foreheads together, and casting a wry glance from Geralt to Jaskier behind him. He leans in close and whispers quietly enough that the bard won't be able to hear, "looks like you finally pulled your head out of your ass, Geralt. Good job. I always knew you had it in you."

A smile tugs at Geralt's lips. Eskel no doubt can tell that he and Jaskier have worked things out from a mile away. If not from how well his brother knows him, then surely from the way he and Jaskier's scents have become intertwined.

There's a small sound from behind him, and Geralt turns to find Jaskier looking shyly at Eskel, hands fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

"Uh, hi, Eskel," the bard says, stepping forwards. He fidgets for a moment, like he's not sure what to do with himself, then, to Geralt's complete surprise-- and Eskel's-- surges forwards and gives the witcher an awkward hug.

Eskel looks completely stunned, and his eyes shoot to Geralt over Jaskier's shoulder, as if asking for help. A light blush dusts his brother's face when Jaskier releases him, and Eskel scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, offering the bard a polite smile.

"Hey, Jaskier. You look well. I hope my brother isn't giving you any trouble."

Jaskier looking well is an understatement. He is, in Geralt's humble opinion, thriving. He's stronger, more confident in himself, and a lot happier than he was when Geralt met him all those months ago. For Eskel, he imagines seeing the change must be like encountering an entirely different person.

"Oh, you know," Jaskier says, "he can be a bit grumpy at times--"

"--hey--" Geralt interjects.

"--and he's invented his own langues composed entirely of grunts, but it's nothing I can't handle."

Eskel nods, elbowing Geralt lightly. "Yes I've had to become fluent in his grunting language. Well it's good to hear you haven't gotten sick of his grumpy ass yet."

"Never."

"Eskel," Vesemir says from the table. "Come join us for breakfast."

"Oh gods, yes. I'm starving."

One by one they all file back to the table, Jaskier resuming his position at Geralt's side, and Eskel sliding in on the other.

"Welcome home, pup," Vesemir says, as Eskel grabs a bowl of oatmeal and some thick slices of bacon.