All his life, Jaskier has only wanted to be enough. In forty years, he’s found a lot of people he can’t please no matter how hard he tries, but never any who are willing to try in return. He’s too loud, too annoying, too much. There are also a startling number of people who want him only as a placeholder - a bed warmer, an entertainer - before quickly ushering him from their lives once they’ve had their fill. As a child, it was devastating every time he was told to be quiet or to find someone else to talk to. As an adult, he thought he’d grown numb to disinterest or fleeting interest, but then he’d met Geralt.
With Geralt, he thought he had finally found someone who might keep him. Even if it wasn’t perfect, even if Jaskier still found himself longing for more, Geralt allowed him to stay. His jabs didn’t hurt the way others did and after some time they even started to sound fond coming from his Witcher. And he was truly happy for the first time in a long time.
But good things are not meant to last. Not at least, for Jaskier. And on the top of a mountain north of Barefield, Geralt had proved without a doubt that Jaskier wasn’t numb to heartbreak.
But that seems like a lifetime ago, now.
When their paths had crossed again, it was by complete accident. Jaskier had been in Oxenfurt over the winter to regroup after a difficult autumn and he’d headed back out into the wilderness late. It was a routine of sorts, setting out on the road after winter, and he’d followed the Pontar east, heading nowhere in particular. The last person he had been expecting to come across was his Witcher.
But there they both were; Geralt with his child surprise in tow and Jaskier with nothing but the lute on his back and a notebook overflowing with verse after verse of heartbreak. Ciri, at least, had been happy to see him, but it was plain to see Geralt didn’t share her enthusiasm. She is the reason for their (somewhat forced) reconciliation, not some change of heart or some grand apology; just a lost little girl clinging to whatever sense of normalcy she can find. And an unwilling father trying to give it to her.
Lucky for him, Jaskier is a familiar face to the young princess and Geralt had agreed when Ciri had asked for him to come along with them. And it’s not all bad; travelling with companions is much less lonely than travelling alone and he and Geralt have made things work between them, enough at least, for Ciri’s wellbeing.
But there’s a feeling Jaskier gets right before he’s ousted from someone’s life, a tingling sort of ache right in the pit of his stomach, and he’s been feeling that for months now.
