Posada, 1240
Several days of riding brought them into a new year as they arrived at the small border town of Posada. When they dismounted and made their way to the front door of the inn, they heard a bard singing loudly about abortion inside.
"Charming," Geralt murmured, smirking as Robin laughed beside him.
"What, you don't enjoy a good bawdy song every once in a while?" she teased.
Geralt shrugged and Robin continued to listen. There was something vaguely familiar about the bard's voice, but she couldn't imagine why. If she'd ever met a bard, and she didn't think she had, it would have been before she went to Melcedem's tower, and that had been long ago.
Geralt opened the door, letting her step inside first. The bard was being pelted by bread, and Geralt took her hand, sliding smoothly past the commotion to a corner table.
"Stop! Fuck off!" the bard yelled. "I'm so glad that I could bring you all together like this. Unbelievable."
He knelt and began to shove all of the thrown bread into his pants. The action made Robin laugh again. She supposed beggars couldn't be choosers.
When the bard stood, he glanced in Geralt and Robin's direction. His head tilted curiously and he slowly walked toward them, staring.
Once she got a good look at him, she stared right back, stunned.
For a moment, she thought she was dreaming. What she was seeing was impossible. It just couldn't be.
Yet here he was.
Geralt's hand moved to his iron sword and he looked at the bard warily. "Robin, what is it?" he asked, his voice low so no one else could hear.
She didn't answer him. She was too busy trying to keep her hands from trembling as the bard stopped in front of her.
"Is it really you, Robin?" he wondered.
She nodded and swallowed as tears came to her eyes. "Yes, it's me." She brought her hands up to touch his face and he smiled gently. "I thought I was never going to see you again."
"Well, same here," he replied, sniffling as he pulled her into a tight hug.
Geralt shot up out of his seat, his chair making a scraping sound against the floor. His chest heaved angrily as he growled, "Aren't you going to introduce me to your... friend, Robin?"
She didn't let go of the man as she answered. "Geralt, this is my brother, Jaskier," she whispered.
Geralt huffed and relaxed, stepping back slightly. "Your... brother?"
Jaskier giggled and immediately became jovial. "I think your man assumed he had competition," he joked, playfully nudging her.
"Competition?" Robin turned and studied Geralt's face, which still held the vestiges of worry and rage he'd been experiencing only moments before. "You thought he was...?" She laughed unexpectedly. "Oh. Oh, no. Oh, that is gross."
She giggled hysterically and Jaskier smirked, holding her against his chest affectionately. "Brother and sister, big man. Not lovers. Our family's vaguely scandalous, but not quite that scandalous."
Geralt made a noise deep in his chest and abruptly sat back down, crossing his arms and glaring straight ahead.
"I love the way he just sits in the corner and broods," Jaskier observed blithely. "An interesting choice of companion, dear sister."
He sat down across from Geralt. Robin followed, keeping her hands firmly on his arm, like he might disappear if she let go. "Well, are you going to tell me how you got away from that infernal mage and his tower? Come on. You don't want to keep a man with... bread in his pants waiting, do you?"
He grimaced and shifted uncomfortably, reaching into his pockets to move the bread around. Robin smiled. "Jas, you don't need that bread. I'm buying dinner, all right?"
"Well, all right, moneybags," he agreed, clearly grateful, quickly moving on to distract from his obvious need for help. "So, um, what did you think of my performance? You're the only two who didn't comment."
"Funny," Robin assured him immediately. "Maybe a bit too much for this crowd," she pointed out.
Jaskier nodded and then looked at Geralt. "And what about you, um..." He paused. "What did my sister call you? Broody McBrooders? You must have some review for me. Three words or less."
Robin hadn't torn her eyes away from her brother, so she didn't see the look on Geralt's face until her head snapped in his direction as he gruffly replied, "They don't exist."
"What don't exist?" Jaskier wondered, unperturbed.
"The creatures in your song," Geralt clarified.
"And how would you know?" Jaskier chuckled.
Then he really looked at the man and recognition dawned in his eyes. "Oh, fun. White hair, two very scary-looking swords. I know who you are. You're a witcher. Geralt of Rivia."
Geralt rolled his eyes and grunted affirmatively.
"Called it!" Jaskier yelled excitedly, thumping his hand against the table.
He glanced at Robin, then back at Geralt. "I thought you were supposed to be a big old loner. What are you doing hanging out with my charming sibling?"
"Geralt's helping me with a problem," Robin explained, giving the witcher an odd look.
She didn't understand the mood he was suddenly in. He'd been quite happy, for him, at least, on the road.
"Oh, so you hired him, then?" Jaskier asked, interrupting her thoughts. "What are you, loaded or something? I've heard witchers are expensive."
"It depends on the job," Geralt broke in.
At the same time, Robin continued, "Well, I'm not paying in the traditional sense."
Jaskier's eyes flicked up and down the strapping man sitting across from him. "Well, I'm impressed, big sister. I'll get a better look at him the next time he stands up, but I do think you've chosen well if you were looking for a stud horse."
"Jas!" she hissed, playfully smacking him in the chest and blushing furiously.
"What? I'm right, aren't I? Although the possessiveness could be a red flag, you know. Might want to get that under control. Sounds like it's just contractual between you, Mr. of Rivia."
Geralt rolled his eyes at the name, but Robin laughed, making Jaskier smile again. "I missed your laugh, Robin," he told her sincerely.
"I missed everything about you," she sighed, reaching up and touching his hair. "You got so tall."
Jaskier blushed. "Not as tall as Geralt, but taller than you. Not that that took much. You're the same size as when you left."
His face fell as he brought it up and she shook her head at him. "No more talk of that, Jas."
She was going to say more, but a woman stopped at their table and asked if they wanted anything. Robin ordered food and drinks for everyone, and before she could speak, Jaskier prodded, "So, tell me what's happened since we last saw each other."
"You first," she insisted. "I heard about it when you ran away. I wanted to find you, but there was no way to, and I couldn't have escaped then anyway. What happened, Jas?"
Jaskier looked down at his lap uncomfortably, fiddling with a loose string on his pants. "Well, you know Father and Mother. Their obsession with increasing their status only increased after you went away. They were looking for the best match for me they could possibly find."
She grimaced. "I can't imagine their daughter being a mage helped with that. Though I'm sure they didn't tell anybody."
"They certainly didn't," he confessed quietly. "No one knew at all, and you were obviously gone, so they just told everyone that you died."
"Oh," Robin murmured, folding her hands in her lap and trying not to be upset.
She'd known long ago that they had been unhappy with how she turned out. It shouldn't have surprised her at all. But, even after all this time, it still hurt.
Jaskier reached out and squeezed her hand, looking at her apologetically. "It's all right, Robin. They're not worth being upset over. Not after what they did to us."
"I know, Jas," she told him.
Geralt stared at her from across the table, his hands tight fists against the rough wooden surface. He looked away as Jaskier noticed, though the bard didn't say anything. He just put both of his arms around his sister and rocked her a bit.
"I did what you said after you left," he tried to console her. "Remembered your stories. I even tried to make my own, but I was quite terrible at it." She laughed and he smiled. "One day a bard visited the estate. I couldn't get enough of listening to him. Before he left, he gave me an old lute of his and showed me how to play it a bit. I practiced and practiced, and finally I was able to compose my own songs. I made several of your stories into songs."
"Really?"
"Really. Like I said, absolute rubbish at making up my own. So I decided I'd travel and collect everyone else's and make them into songs."
"You didn't write the story he was just singing about, did you?" Geralt asked wryly, raising an eyebrow at her.
She giggled and shook her head. "No," she confirmed.
Geralt smiled at the fact that he'd cheered her up.
"Just a few legends I cabled together. And not very good ones, by your estimation," Jaskier grumbled. "But oh well. Anyway, as you can imagine, Father and Mother were not happy when I announced that I wanted to be a bard. So I ran away from home. I've been going from place to place, earning a living by singing and playing ever since. Sometimes because people actually give me money, and sometimes because they throw bread at me that I can save for a rainy day."
Robin hugged him tighter and Jaskier kissed her forehead. "Your turn."
Geralt listened as Robin gave a very abbreviated version of the same story she'd told him. She left out all of Melcedem's advances, of course, and a lot of their final confrontation, though she did still reveal that she'd killed him.
"Good," Jaskier huffed. "I heard plenty of rumors about him when I first started traveling. I can't imagine he was all that good to you."
"Don't worry about it, Jaskier," she deflected. "It's over now. I'm all right."
"And how did you two meet?" Jaskier inquired as their food arrived. "Perhaps Geralt would pipe up and tell that tale."
Geralt sighed. "I was in a graveyard fighting necrophages. She showed up and assisted me, then asked for my help. I said no and we parted ways, but I went back when the townspeople came after her for her magic. I've since decided we should travel together for the time being, considering the plot she's uncovered."
Jaskier tore a chunk of fresh bread off the loaf that had been brought, dipping it into his stew and then chasing it with a piece of fresh cheese. "That's it? Well, he's horrible at telling stories too," Jaskier muttered, winking at Robin. "At least it's not just me."
Robin peeled and sliced a pear using her magic and began to eat the slices delicately. "Geralt's a man of action, not words, Jaskier."
"Well, that's perfect, isn't it? He's practically begging for a bard."
Before Geralt could respond, a nervous man stopped by their table and asked to speak with the witcher privately about some work. Geralt rose and went with him without speaking.
"I see what you mean about the words," Jaskier agreed, staring after him. "My goodness, what a man. Tall and broad and just... thick everywhere. You can't even be mad that he's walking away."
"Jas!"
Robin elbowed him and he laughed. "Well, am I wrong? How do you even manage it? He's a stallion."
"I'm not going to talk about that with my brother, Jaskier," she protested, hesitating. "How did you even know? Is it that obvious?"
"Well, you're grinning like a schoolgirl, and he's as prickly as a porcupine when another man so much as looks at you. And I'm not just talking about me. Every man in here has glanced your way, and he's stared daggers at them until they've looked away."
"He's just being protective because I got into quite a bit of trouble during the brief time I was on my own," she hedged. "That's all."
Jaskier snorted. "Sure. That's all."
He eyed Geralt appreciatively from the front, widening his eyes and looking pointedly at Robin after he'd studied the witcher's groin. She was bright red when Geralt sat back down and raised an eyebrow at her brother.
"You know I can hear everything you said, right? Witchers have enhanced senses."
"Then you can back me up," Jaskier replied easily. "What did that man want?"
"He says that grain is being stolen by a devil. He wants me to kill it."
"A devil?" Robin wondered.
Geralt shrugged. "Probably something with horns."
"Well, perfect. I can lend you a hand. I've got two, one for each of the devil's horns," Jaskier offered.
"No," Geralt said immediately.
"I won't be but silent back-up," Jaskier assured him.
"I don't think you've ever been silent a moment in your life," Geralt observed pointedly.
Jaskier looked to Robin for a defense, but she shrugged. "He's not wrong," she agreed.
"Fine, fine. But I heard your note, and you're right. Maybe real adventures would make better stories, and you, sir, smell chock-full of them." Jaskier took a long sniff. "Amongst other things. I mean, what is that? Onion?"
Geralt gave him a withering look and Jaskier shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Whatever it is, you smell of death and destiny. Heroics and heartbreak." He glanced at Robin. "Though you'd better not make good on that last one, or I'll kick your arse on her behalf," he declared boldly, fully aware that he couldn't.
That made Geralt laugh loudly. Robin finally left Jaskier's side to go around the table and sit on Geralt's lap. His arm automatically went around her waist as she whispered in his ear.
"Can he come with us? Please? I'll protect him, and pay for everything he needs, I promise."
Geralt sighed. "I thought you said it would be too dangerous for him," he argued.
"Yes, but I didn't know he was entirely on his own. He's going to get into trouble by himself, Geralt, no matter how hard he tries not to."
She trailed off and squeezed him tightly. He sighed again. "I know, I know. Fine. He can come."
"Thank you!" She kissed his cheek. "And, for the record, I like the way you smell."
He smiled as she took her seat again, eating more heartily now that things were decided.
"Excellent!" Jaskier announced. "I shall be your barker, spreading the tales of Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken! Ouch!"
Robin gave him a stern glance and Geralt swallowed a chuckle as he realized that she'd kicked her brother under the table.
"There are no rooms left," Geralt told them. "I already asked. We'll find a place to camp for the night and then I'll go after this devil in the morning."
"Sounds like a plan," Jaskier said meekly.
Geralt went back to his dinner and Robin kissed Jaskier's cheek. "Just be nice," she admonished him, then shot a look at Geralt. "You too. Nice."
"Nice," they both said in unison, Geralt's deep bass voice rumbling under Jaskier's higher one.
Robin smiled brilliantly, very pleased that everyone she wanted to protect was suddenly in the same place.