#uncle!witchers

Rays of sunlight paint across the walls of the bedroom in your cottage when you wake, the sound of birds chirping where they rest on your windowsill pulling you lazily from your slumber. You are content to bask in the haze of waking before your mind catches up with you. You never wake this late, your daughter makes sure of that. She usually rises with the sun, pulling you out of bed with her cries for your embrace. 

    This morning, though, it is quiet. Your bed is empty, as is your daughter’s crib where it rests by the fireplace. You hastily tie your skirt around your waist after throwing on a light shirt, carefully stepping out of the threshold of your bedroom. 

    The kitchen and living area are vacant as well, save for a new bundle of flowers resting in a vase on the table. You slide on your boots and step outside, taking a deep breath of the cool, fresh spring air. 

    As you step around to the back garden, you spot them. Your garden is sprawling, filled with luscious vegetables and fruits and herbs to keep you all healthy and fed. But the love of your life, bless him, had requested a corner of the garden for himself, dutifully planting flowers that he enjoys just to have them in his life. The two of you often garden together, pruning and caring for your respective crops. 

    Now, though, Jaskier sits crisscrossed on the ground, holding your daughter in his arms. She’s getting big, almost able to walk on her own through your little home. She holds Jaskier’s heart tightly, a neverending embrace that could steal his breath away. 

    You lean against the frame of your house, content to hold witness to the peace that he has created with her. Jaskier is gently rocking her in his arms, humming a wordless lullaby that he has used since the day she was born. You can hear her blubbering along with his music, clearly having picked up the habit from her father. 

    You watch as he leans his head down, barely brushing the tip of his nose along her cheek. She shrieks with laughter, grasping with chubby fingers at his hair to pull him closer. Your heart bursts as Jaskier’s mouth spreads in a great smile, nuzzling his head down against hers. 

    “She likes you better,” you say, walking over to their side. When she notices you your daughter squeals, holding out her arms and making grabby hands towards you. You kneel at Jaskier’s side and fit your hands under her shoulders, lifting her into your arms. Jaskier greets you with a kiss, soft and sweet as the flower petals that surround you.

    “Not true, she just likes when I sing to her,” he whispers, chuckling as she grabs a lock of your hair and tugs, laughing maniacally. 

    “Well, at least we know where she got her attitude,” You gently pull your hair from her hand as you stand, Jaskier close behind you. 

    “Yes, she is just as much a lovely ray of sunshine as her mother, doting love upon all who find themselves lucky enough to be in her presence.” Jaskier wraps his arm around your waist as you stroll lazily back to your home. 

    “Thank you for taking her this morning, it was very sweet of you,” you whisper, glancing down with a smile as your daughter plays with your necklace. When Jaskier had declared his love for you he had given you a ring, a simple band with engravings of ivy and delicate flowers around the edges. When you had fallen pregnant, you couldn’t wear it anymore since your fingers were swollen. He had come home with a nice length of smooth leather one evening, sliding the ring onto it before tying it around your neck. 

    Your daughter looks up at you with wide blue eyes, the same clear waters that fill her father’s eyes spilling into hers. You squeeze her closer, holding her tight against your chest as Jaskier does the same to you, a bundle of warmth and comfort with your little family.

…

    That evening, you gently stir some herbs into the hearty stew over the fire, your daughter standing and bracing herself on the edge of the chair that Jaskier is sitting in. A knock sounds against your door and you leave the ladle resting beside the fire, opening the door wide. 

    “Ah! My Witchers, I am so glad you’re finally here!” Jaskier exclaims from his spot, your daughter following his eyes to the three men who stand in the doorway. She can’t see over the couch, though, so she just goes back to bouncing where she stands at the chair. You step aside as you welcome them in, letting them leave their armor and weapons in a little basket that you keep beside the entrance. 

    “So, how’s the little hellhound?” Lambert asks as he unceremoniously throws his jerkin into the basket, rolling the arms of his chemise up to his elbows. 

    “She’s well, Lambert, thank you for asking.” Lambert flushes a bit, crossing over to the stew at the fire. Your daughter blubbers at him, a whole bunch of nonsensical sounds coming together to form some incoherent thought. 

    “Yeah, yeah, blulrrbb-lrrbbworr to you too, little one.” You smile to yourself as he ladles a bowl for himself, sitting on the couch as he tucks in. Lambert is gruff, crass, sometimes a prick, but he has a truly soft heart under that hard exterior, and your daughter seems to have wormed her way right into the softest parts of him. 

    Geralt is next, carefully skirting around the edge of the couch as he grabs another bowl. You see your daughter’s eyes light up when she sees him, and she sticks her hand out to make grabby hands to him. She loses her balance though, and catches herself on the chair. Jaskier laughs a bit, ruffling her hair as he looks up to the White Wolf.

    “You see that, Geralt? Next thing you know, she’ll be the one following you all over the continent.” Geralt rolls his eyes with a groan, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he settles beside Lambert. 

    Eskel stands at your side, tilting his scars away from you as he shuffles a bit. He’s told you once before that he doesn’t want to scare your daughter, what with the angry red lines that distort the side of his face. And you told him that if she sees him often enough, she won’t come to associate them with fear, but with love and care.

    So, you give him a nudge, following him as he rounds the corner of the couch. Your daughter looks up at him, squealing loudly with the sight of the dark-haired Witcher. You watch, shocked, as she clunkily turns, lets go of the chair, and steps towards Eskel. Everyone holds their breath as she takes one, two, three steps before she stumbles, headed straight to the ground. But Eskel gets there first, scooping her up into his arms with a hearty laugh. 

    Your daughter screeches, babbling nonsense as she falls into his embrace, resting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms as far around him as they can go. Your eyes begin to well at the sight, and you can tell that Eskel is trying to keep it together as he closes his own eyes and holds her close. Jaskier stands and comes to your side, sliding his arm around your waist and rubbing his thumb lightly against your hip.