I just love Jaskier having pre existing relationships with Witchers who aren’t Geralt.
“Wait—how do you know Lambert?” Geralt asked, the question slipping out sharp as a drawn blade, caught somewhere between suspicion and disbelief.
Jaskier blinked at him, entirely unbothered. “Oh, that? He’s my godfather,” he said, as casually as one might remark on the weather.
Geralt stared. Truly stared. His eyes widened until it seemed a wonder they did not tumble free and roll across the floor. “How,” he said slowly, “is that even remotely possible?”
“Well,” Jaskier began, with the air of someone about to recount a perfectly ordinary tale, “it all started when I was a baby, and a fae tried to curse me.”
Geralt’s brow furrowed. “A fae cursed you?”
“Tried,” Jaskier corrected, lifting a finger as though this distinction were sacred law. “Important difference. You see, the fae was hopelessly in love with my mother—tragic, really—who, inconveniently, was in love with my father. Then along came me, which did not improve matters. Jealousy, curses, the usual sort of thing.”
Geralt said nothing. He simply looked at him, face carved from stone, as Jaskier carried on, bright as birdsong.
“Anyway, it’s my first name-day, everyone’s celebrating, and this fae decides it’s the perfect moment for revenge. But—fortunate twist—Lettenhove had been dealing with drowners at the time, so my father had already hired a witcher.”
Geralt exhaled through his nose, the pieces clicking into place despite himself. “Lambert.”
“Exactly,” Jaskier said, beaming. “He dealt with the fae, saved my tiny, charming life, and my parents—being sensible people—rewarded him by making him my godfather.”