“And Yet, Here We Are”

"Glad you aren't pushing for more," Sam says with a shy smile.  "I've finally taken a husband."

"Congratulations, my dear friend!" Jaskier exclaims before hugging him tighter.  "Tell me all about him."

"Teddy is the miller's son, and apparently I was spending more time there than even a baker needs to.  He took the initiative and started courting me.  Sadly, it took me far too long to notice what he was doing.  But we got there eventually, and we'll be married half a year by the time I get home from this ball."

"That sounds perfectly you," Jaskier tells him with a snort.  "I find myself a bit enraptured with someone myself.  He seems to be a good man, but we have yet to figure things out.  He is…incredible.  Just truly brilliant and funny and yet there is a softness under the armor he's put up to protect himself from life at court."

"Ah, a fellow nobleman, then?  That sounds like a good match for you.  I have never seen you look so smitten, so I hope it works out for you," Sam says.  Then he looks back at his travel companions, shaking his head at the man waving at him.  "Looks like my apprentice has a problem again. You'd think baking for a large party would be an adventure and not so worrisome."

"I look forward to seeing you again," Jaskier pats him on the back and watches him wander away.  He tries to keep in touch with past lovers, and has always made a point to swing by Sam's bakery whenever he could.  Normally they fell into bed together, Jaskier playing his body like a fine instrument all night long followed by Sam spoiling him with sweets come morning.

Usually moving someone from lover to old flame tugs at his heartstrings considerably  more than it does today.  He knows a certain cheeky prince has a lot to do with that, and he vows to find an excuse to visit after the ball.  He sits back down and waits for Geralt and Ciri to arrive, feeling a tad lighter than before. 

—

Jaskier holds back his tears as he leaves Radovid, not ready to process everything that just happened.  A fucking prince would give up everything he has to follow him around the continent?  It’s a heady kind of power, and not one Jaskier is sure he deserves.  However hurt he was this morning, his heart still yearns for Radovid.  The pain on his face when Jaskier gave him an escape route and said they couldn't be together yet was enough to convince Jaskier that his actions were driven by fear and his feelings are true.

But right now the building is in ruins and there’s a fucking bloodbath surrounding him, so Jaskier has to lock down his thoughts and focus on the present.  He’s going room by room, frantically looking for Geralt or Yennefer, and doesn’t notice the familiar face at first.  He stands in the doorway and looks at Sam peering around an overturned table.

“Sam?” he asks, and the man stands up slowly.  There’s no blood on him, but his eyes are wide with fear and Jaskier’s heart goes out to him.  Jaskier is more indifferent to violence than the average person, and Sam most likely never left his home before.

“Jaskier!” he spits out, voice trembling as he crosses the room and pulls Jaskier into a tight hug.  “What the fuck happened here?  One minute I’m in the guest room they provided and the next I’m running for my life and stuck in the middle of a battle.  Is it safe now?”

“Not exactly, though it is better,” Jaskier assures him while thinking how he can help.  He trusted Radovid to handle his contacts and travel alone, but Sam is different.  “Wait here, and I’ll come back with help, can you do that?”

“Sure thing,” Sam says with a laugh.  “I’ll go back to cowering behind the table.”

“I may not be back, but I promise I’ll send someone to get you out of here,” he says, hugging Sam one last time before leaving the room and walking back out into the chaos.  He’ll get Sam back to his miller’s son one way or another.

He tries to avoid looking at the bodies strewn about, but it’s hard not to.  So much loss and all for no reason.  He sighs and pushes on until he distractedly runs right into someone.  “So sorry!” he mumbles before he recognizes the person in front of him.  “Keira!”

“If it isn’t Yennefer’s bard,” she says with a grin.

“More of the mages’ bard at this point,” Jaskier tells her softly.  And it’s true.  He may have started out with just Yennefer, but he makes sure to introduce himself to any mages he comes across on his travels.  Sometimes it’s a way to get news of his friends, and sometimes it’s simply a way to find a friendly face in the middle of this gods damned war.  He has always had a soft spot for Keira and her fiery personality.

“I am so glad you are here.  You look relatively unharmed?” Jaskier asks hopefully.

“Just so fucking tired my bones ache, and I’m ignoring everything else until we get to safety.  There may not be many survivors, but it’s our job to protect them and lead them out of our home,” Keira tells him quickly.

“I hope you have the strength to help one more.  I left a friend at the first doorway on the left, and he was here to help with the catering.  He won’t know how to get himself home without a little help,” he explains and thankfully she nods quickly.

“Go find Yennefer, and I’ll see to your friend.  I’ll even work for free this time!” she jokes, and Jaskier clings to the way they can both still find joy in a time like this.

“I’ll write a song about you,” Jaskier promises, “Something sultry and mystical.  I’ll have it ready before we meet again.”