(well- there is some hesitation, but only so far as to pause for long enough to inform the inn that he had planned to stay at that they no longer needed to consider his room occupied, please keep the payment for the inconvenience)

And it's not a modest estate that Steve shows him (his name was Steve, last name ignored, and he'd extended his hand and committed to a formal introduction that Eddie had entertained for all of five seconds before returning an amount of energy uncalled for for the simple exchange and only the return of his nickname in kind, but it had made Steve crack a grin, amused and curious as Eddie followed along, beside, and around him as he made his way home).

It's impressive and speaks to some level of social standing that Eddie tries to puzzle out. Wouldn't they have met before now if that were the case? There were plenty of gatherings that were both formal and not that were meant to facilitate a sense of social standing and familiarity amongst even the lowest of the nobility in the kingdom, and yet he was at a loss.

Steve is gracious to offer him food for them to eat together, and the warmth of a fireplace that he prepares himself, and doesn't even make mention of any sort of servant under his employ that could assist.

Eddie apologizes and confesses his hopes that he isn't disturbing him too greatly as the head of the household, and Steve's smile turns wry as he admits that his parents hold the honor of that position, and can otherwise have the luxury of being unbothered by their combined presence and lack of decorum whilst being away on one of their many trips to neighboring kingdoms.

Says that if it doesn't bother Eddie, that he is the only one around that can help see to his needs if he should want anything by the next morning before he turns away again to gaze at the light of the fire.

Eddie mulls on this for a moment. Listens to the ambient crackle of the fireplace, and then beyond that, to the gaping emptiness of the house. It evokes an emotion he cannot quite name to imagine Steve alone in this place, and shakes his head against some of the thoughts that he'd immediately imagined. It was conjecture.

But when Steve doesn't leave to retire from the couch that they'd settled on as they continued to talk quietly, Eddie doesn't make to do so either, and they rest side by side under a shared blanket.

Eddie rushes to leave the next morning, a whirlwind of thanks and shared smiles with Steve as he heads off, ready to inform the palace guards that are no doubt a bit anxious after was not in the vetted inn, and that he has not, in fact, been kidnapped, but he makes a point to stop by the gate when Steve sees him off, pauses to promise that he will return to visit the kids again, and that he will surely pester Steve for more of his hospitality.

And he does- he visits the kids and continues to learn about their lives and encourages them in their budding trades and aspirations, and when the night draws near, Steve is there like clockwork to send them to their homes or lead them to his, Eddie readily in tow with his own presence and offerings of payment in turn (be it trinkets or baubles or other such manner of things, all of which had just struck him as something that maybe Steve would enjoy? Better to bring it than to leave it.)

And then there were the days where he would pester Steve for company for it's own sake, just the two of them, wheedling his way into helping with the upkeep of the house, of the surrounding land, and the animals that shared in it so as not to disturb his personal routine of life, days where he learned that, yes, actually. Steve was alone here. That he often was. That he was wearier than he liked to let on, but was more than capable of completing what he'd set his mind to.

It still worried Eddie.

And then.

And then, comes the announcement that there was a royal ball that was going to be hosted by the palace, and come on Steve- won't you go? Please, for me?

And Steve is a bit apprehensive, hedges about the return of his parents around the approaching date and that throws Eddie for enough of a loop to give him pause and a want to push, but Steve brushes past it with a promise that he'll go to see him, maybe even dress up in something fitting for the occasion and Eddie is satiated for this silent compromise of his company, even if he can't share everything kept unsaid behind closed doors

Steve never has anything unkind to say about his parents, and is careful around their image. Similarly, there has not been a kind thing to mention in passing as well, but Eddie can read between the lines. Can pick up the hints and crumbs that he has been entrusted with, and nowadays, Eddie has a more accurate imagination compared to that very first night that he'd tried to think of Steve alone in that house. It isn't a prettier picture to then.

And still, after all this time- it hasn't slipped that he is the prince.

But that won't stop him from scheming. From planning.

Eddie thinks, hopes, prays- that he can convince Steve that there is a life for him away from an empty house that only has space for secretive, joyful memories.

And it starts with this, the arrival of an ornate envelope to declare the ball for eligible bachelors and bachelorettes from far and wide, and the promise that Steve will attend from his very own lips.

He finally snaps out of it. He scratches the back of his neck, looking up at the menu and looking for something to order. “I think I’ll get a pork cutlet.”

“Alright, I’ll go order for the both of us—”

“I’ll pay.” Yuta insists and Ara shakes her head. “Let me pay for your meal, at least.”

She shrugs her shoulders. “The fact that you decided to join me for lunch is already enough to pay me.”

“A-Are you sure? I can definitely pay—”

She looks up at him and it’s enough to make Yuta’s mouth clamp shut. There you are again. He sees you through her eyes. No matter how many times he blinks to somehow make it go away, he still sees you through Ara’s eyes. Why is that?

She pouts. “I’m paying. If you’re bummed out about it, just ask me out for lunch next time. I’ll let you pay next time.”

He purses his lips into a tight line. “Fine. Promise?”

Ara’s eyes trail down to Yuta’s pinky finger that’s extended out to her. She slowly looks back up at him and beams, letting out a soft giggle. She interlocks her pinky with his. 

“Promise.”

“Ara is your soulmate.”

“How would you know that?”

“Because I’m a Cupid.”

Yuta lets out a tiring sigh. 

Every year on Valentine’s Day, Cupids are assigned their love assignment. It is very rare for a Cupid to not be assigned to someone. This year, on Valentine’s Day, Yuta found out that his love assignment is Jaehyun. He has a year to make Jaehyun fall in love with the person Yuta saw in his eyes. You. 

And just like the rarity of a Cupid not being assigned to someone, it is much more rare to see a love assignment’s soulmate in someone else’s eyes. That day where Yuta saw you in Ara’s eyes was the first time he experienced such a rare exception. Only two things could explain this:

Jaehyun, his love assignment, happens to be in a relationship during the time he was assorted. Because he is in a relationship during the time he’s assorted, Cupids are able to see their love assignment’s soulmate in their current partner’s eyes. This explains why he saw you in Ara’s, Jaehyun’s partner, eyes. Or,

Yuta sees you in Ara’s eyes because you truly are a Cupid, and your love assignment is coincidentally Ara. 

“Well, shit.” Yuta lets out a breathless laugh. His phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s a text from Ara. 

“Jaehyun’s been pretty busy with school and the radio show that I haven’t been able to see him for a while. It’s like I’m slowly losing touch.”

“I’m sure he wants to see you too, but your schedules just have conflict.” 

Ara places her hand on Yuta’s, catching him off guard. “I just wanted to say thank you for having lunch with me today. I was having a horrible morning and your company made things better.”

ara (3:04 pm): when do you want to go out for lunch? a new pizza place opened up a couple of blocks away from the campus field. 

ara (3:05 pm): wanna come check it out with me? 

“When were you planning on telling me that you’re Planet Girl?”

You’re trying to calm your heart that’s beating fast. He lets go of your wrist and you place a hand over your chest, feeling your heartbeat get back to normal. 

“Mark, you scared the shit out of me.” You playfully punch his arm and he lets out a yelp. He rubs the punched spot on his arm and sends you a death glare. 

“You’re not answering my question,” he frowns. “When were you planning on telling me that you’re Planet Girl?”

You hush him. “Keep it down, would you?”

He scoffs. “Do you not trust me, or something? I literally played your songs in front of you. We’re frigging roommates! All this time, it was you. Why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’d rather keep it private.” You explain simply. “But Mark, could you do me a favour? Don’t tell anyone. You and Taeyong are the only ones that know—”

“Taeyong?” Mark gasps. “Taeyong as in, Lee Taeyong?”

“Mark—” You hiss. 

“Fine. I’ll keep it a secret but only if you do one thing—”

“What?”

“Who is he?”

You glance at Taeyong. The two of you are standing at the doorway to Taeyong’s bedroom. Standing right in front of his computer is Mark, who’s raving about Taeyong’s song-producing material. Mark lets out a couple of ‘wow’s’ and ‘oh’s’ as he starts trailing his fingers across the keyboard, even the widescreen monitor. 

“Mark.” You sigh. “My roommate.”

“And what is he doing here?”

“He found out.” You shrug your shoulders.

“Found out what?” He questions. 

“That I’m Planet Girl.” You reply. 

“But… why is he here?” He chuckles. 

You laugh along with him, shaking your head at how cute and adorable Mark looks. Mark looks like a little kid, almost like a golden retriever, amused and entertained by the littlest things. 

“He’s your biggest fan. We made a deal. He’ll keep my double life a secret only if he gets to meet you and,” you hesitate to end your sentence. “Maybe… record and produce a few of his own songs with you?”

“Is he good?” Taeyong asks. 

You tilt your head as you both analyze the younger one. You smile. 

“Now that I think about it, I think he’ll be amazing. The walls in our apartment are quite thin and he loves singing and rapping in the shower.”

“Well, I guess it all works out, then.”

Blaviken was the answer.

Yennefer had studied a map of Redania with the intensity of a General trying to plan a war. Blaviken met the criteria she sought. It was Northward, it was by the coast so they could leave the country quickly if necessary, and Geralt would never return.

“Isn’t there some legendary murderer that stalks Blaviken?” you asked as she told you her plan. “The Brute of Blaviken or something?”

“The Beast of Blaviken is no concern of ours,” Yennefer said, a look of calm settling over her features for the first time in the weeks since you’d left Lettenhove. You nodded slowly but did not meet her eyes.

“What is it?” Yennefer asked, packing away the bedroll she’d used the night before as you prepared to leave camp.

“Nothing,” you mumbled, dousing the embers and hoisting your pack onto your shoulder. “It’s just…”

Yennefer gave you a questioning look and you took a deep breath.

“Who do you think he chose?”

Her eyes softened and you quickly looked away again, hating the pity you saw in them and feeling embarrassed that you still had these questions though you knew he must be married by now. He may even be expecting a child. The thought made bile rise in your throat.

“Let’s focus on your choices,” Yennefer said, “Blaviken has many opportunities for you. You could set up shop there, aiding people in translating texts or you could sail and be a translator for explorers. What do you want to do?”

You wanted to run back to Lettenhove. You wanted to make Jaskier understand that even though you weren’t noble, no one could ever love him as much as you. You wanted to stop hurting. But even Yennefer with all of her magic couldn’t make it stop. You would have to learn how to carry this pain with you and use it to motivate you. If you could not have the man you loved you would just have to work harder and creating a life you loved. There were still surprises out there. You had to believe that.

“I’d like to see the world,” you answered finally and you could tell by the look of relief and excitement on Yennefer’s face that it was the right answer.

“Then the world you shall see,” she replied.

-----

“We’ve been all over the bloody world and still no trace of her. Something is wrong,” Jaskier insisted. They’d been building this fight slowly over the weeks since leaving Lettenhove and Geralt had hoped to put it off longer. Or at the very least, not here.

“Jaskier if the woman wanted to be with you she wouldn’t have run away,” Geralt snapped.

“No, something happened. That witch pulled her away and there was something she wasn’t telling me. Maybe something she couldn’t tell me. Or maybe she did tell me and I’ve just been too stupid to figure out what it was,” Jaskier’s fingers strummed an anxious tune, switching between two chords in an pace that grew faster and heightened the tension intolerably.

“Or maybe she just didn’t want to stay. What is your plan if you find her?”

“When.”

“When you find her,” Geralt corrected with an exasperated sigh.

“I want to find out what’s going on and I want to offer assistance and I want….” Jaskier’s words trailed off, his mind too overwhelmed with the many things he wanted if – no, when – he saw her again.

“We need to move with more haste,” Geralt said as they approached a sign bearing the name of the next village.

“Why? Geralt what aren’t you telling me? You’ve been pulling us through towns as though we are the ones being pursued,” Jaskier argued.

“I just need to get us through this town quickly and then we can look more carefully,” Geralt said dismissively. Jaskier stopped walking and when Geralt turned to see where he’d gone he saw a stubborn expression on his face that could only lead to trouble.

“This is a port town. There is no way we’re running through this quickly. This is our best lead in weeks and I’m not going to skip through it because you have some hang-up about Blaviken,” Jaskier said.

“Jaskier-”

“You don’t have to stay with me,” Jaskier said offhandedly, walking forward at a brisker pace. Geralt had half a mind to snatch him up and throw him over Roach’s back but he had just enough composure to refrain. For now.

“If we do this you need to know that I will not be welcomed and with you by my side, neither shall you,” Geralt warned.

“Oh yes, yes I know all about your gruesome reputation, but it’s been years. Surely it’s become nothing more than a story to scare children now,” Jaskier argued.

-----

“...and they say you can still hear their screams if you listen closely on a windy night.”

The patrons of the tavern clapped excitedly as the bard finished their tale of terror. Yennefer rolled her eyes from the corner she sat in with you.

“Likely just hearing the wind itself,” she remarked.

“Still a good story though,” you said kindly, clapping politely.

“You will hear many stories on your travels,” Yennefer said. You looked back down at your glass and swilled the last dregs of the ale around.

“Yennefer, you’ve already done so much for me and I know I have no right to ask for anything else but… Why don’t you come with me? You know the captain better than I do! You did all of the talking when we met!” You’d been forming your argument all evening. Once you reached Blaviken, Yennefer was quick to learn of the most respected captains in port that day and was able to get an audience with one who proved to be exactly what you were looking for. He was no nonsense but not unkind. He paid his crew well and that would extend to your work as a translator. He was leaving port within the week, something that excited Yennefer more than you, and he didn’t hold the same superstitions some held about women on ships. All in all it was rather perfect. Except it meant saying goodbye. Again.

“Y/N, you’re going to be fine,” Yennefer said comfortingly.

“This isn’t about me! Ok, it’s not completely about me. I don’t understand why you can’t come?” you insisted. Yennefer considered your words and how she could answer you without starting a much bigger argument.

“There are people who will not treat you kindly if they see you are with me,” she said, opting for the truth. If nothing else, this she would be honest with you about. As predicted she saw you straighten up, brows furrowing in consternation as you grew defensive on her behalf.

“Well I don’t want to be around people or be treated kindly by them if they are rude to my friend,” you argued. “Besides, it doesn’t always have to be you taking care of me, I can help you sometimes.”

“You do help me,” she insisted, “By being a good and loyal friend. And by trusting my judgment and letting me take care of you.”

You sighed heavily and she saw you preparing to launch into another argument and rose quickly. Perhaps the coward’s way out, but she couldn’t have this fight with you right now. Not when she wanted so badly to let you win.

“Speaking of which, I am going to go do a quick check around town. We can talk more when I get back,” she said, rising quickly from the table and leaving without a backward glance. You at there at the table for a bit longer, glaring into your cup and then finally, muttering angrily to yourself as you practiced the next half of your fight, you went into the room the two of you would share until you left.

-----

“See Geralt, nothing to be afraid of. They let us have a room here didn’t they?” Jaskier asked as he dropped his pack on the floor, the thud echoed by the slamming of a door nearby.

“Hmm,” Geralt grunted, unwilling to concede defeat but surprised that they had been allowed a room with very little protest.

“Not a single pitchfork or lit torch,” Jaskier continued.

“Hmm.”

“In fact I dare say the innkeeper even smiled at us,” Jaskier pressed.

“I’m going to look around town,” Geralt said, rising from his seat on the bed suddenly, unable to listen to any more of Jaskier’s crowing.

“Beware of the villagers,” Jaskier called at his retreating back, “I’ve heard they’re vicious monsters.”

The air had a bite to it as winter approached. Geralt checked on Roach first, ensuring that the horse was well fed and brushed and would be warm in her stable.

“You know I’m only doing this for his own good,” he murmured to the horse quietly. She blinked her large brown eyes at him and he sighed.

“Well of course has to find out sometime but it’s not going to be from me and it’s not going to be soon. He’s already been in better spirits. My plan is working,” he insisted. She nickered and nudged his head with hers and he gave a rueful smile.

“I know,” he said, “I hate it too.”

Geralt contemplated spending the night in the stables to avoid Jaskier’s continued taunting, or worse, more questions about their methods to find Y/N, but then he saw something. A figure moving past the stables intently, something in their gait and the way they held their head high familiar though obscured by a cloak. He walked a bit closer and then he saw it – a glimpse, just the quickest glimpse of violet eyes as they flicked to the left. They didn’t see him though. He was already hiding, and as they continued through the darkening streets they were unaware that he shadowed them every step of the way.

-----

Yennefer needed space to think and the docks were as good as any. The few people still milling around were too drunk or preoccupied to bother her and the rest had too much sense to approach. She stood at the end of a pier and looked out to the ocean. There was something comforting in it endless expanse. Some looked to the night sky to feel small but Yennefer looked to the ocean, its depths unplumbed and its secrets held tighter than she could ever dream. And soon it would take away her closest friend. One more sacrifice made for the power she’d earned and not the least painful. At least she had kept you safe. If nothing else came of this, she’d done that for you.

“Lilacs. And gooseberries.”

The voice sent a spike of dread and anger through Yennefer as she turned to face him.

“Death.”

“That was the promise I believe,” he said, though his eyes held no malice towards her. Just exhaustion, and no small amount of sadness.

“I could scream right now and every single villager would come down on you, eager for the chance to dispatch the Beast of Blaviken,” Yennefer said, gesturing to those still milling around the shore.

“I wonder if they would get here in time. And I wonder if they wouldn’t be just as likely to thank me for dispatching a dangerous sorceress?” Geralt retorted.

“I am tired of these games, Geralt,” Yennefer said, “We are so close to being out of your life forever.”

“I keep thinking that and yet somehow we still end up finding each other,” he said with a wry smile.

“So what do you propose?” Yennefer asked, hands curling into fists at the ready.

“We can fight or we can talk. Or we can fight and then talk. Or we can talk and then fight. But it’s time we get our answers.”

“Suddenly willing to talk? Afraid you’ll lose?” Yennefer taunted. He was on her quicker than she could respond, both hands clutched in one of his as he spun her into a grappling embrace.

“No,” he murmured the words into her ear, drinking in the scent she always carried, “Afraid I will win.”

-----

Dear Jaskier,

I suppose I should not be so formal now that you are someone’s husband. Then again, we were never much for propriety and there’s no point for me to start pretending otherwise now. I am writing to you to tell you how terribly sorry I am

how much I regret

I am writing to tell you the truth. It is the least of what you’re owed. When I came to that party the first night I never intended to lie to you. I did intend to lie, you understand, and secure myself a position that would pull me out of poverty but I never intended to lie to you. I never intended anything that happened with you. Yet I do not regret it. Perhaps I should but I’m done lying. I am a peasant. I am an orphaned peasant of a family I hardly remember. I have made my way in this world through friendship and cunning and I am not ashamed of who I am or where I am from. But I do recognize that these things also make it impossible to ever be with you. Still I eagerly, happily, remorselessly sought you out and enjoyed our time together.

If things were different… But they’re not. You are married and I leave in a few days’ time to travel across the ocean, exploring new worlds and seeing what other surprises life holds for me.

I understand if you are angry and I understand if you are hurt. But I hope need you to understand that I loved you, that I may always love you, and that you will always hold a place in my heart no other will ever touch.

Yours

Affectionately

Love

Va fáill,

Y/N

You read the letter over and crumpled it up with a frustrated sigh, tossing it into the little fire going in the hearth with the four that had come before it. You knew Yennefer would be angry if she learned you were trying to reach out to Jaskier in any way but your impending voyage made you bolder. He couldn’t get to you then. He likely wouldn’t even try. He was married with someone who had all the graces and talents you had never possessed and you were a brief experiment in an otherwise long, experienced life. You weren’t upset by this but damn if you didn’t dream that he would come knock down your door and profess his great, undying love for you. But this was not a fairytale. No one was coming for you on a white steed. No matter. You had no use for steeds when the ocean called for you.

-----

“He left because he doesn’t want to be a Viscount. The life has never suited him and he chose to go where he could be happy.”

Yennefer watched the faint glow that surrounded their clasped hands carefully, watching for any change in shade. Geralt had been loathe to fight, memories of a forced altercation that ended in heartache too vivid in here of all places, and a compromise had been reached. Yennefer had cast a spell that would force them to remain honest. If either of them lied, the gold aura around their hands would burn red. Yet their hands stay cast in a golden light, not so much as drifting orange as Geralt’s eyes bored into hers.

“My turn,” he said, “Why did Y/N run?”

“Because I made her.”

“Why did you make her?”

Yennefer’s eyes hardened and Geralt saw her conflict.

“I swear, unless she intends to harm Jaskier, I will not act against her in any way.”

Yennefer stared at their joined hands for a full minute and Geralt let her have her time, filled with the certainty that they were reaching a critical point where all would finally be revealed.

“Y/N is a peasant,” Yennefer bit the words out as though they were being wrenched from her against her will and her eyes quickly darted up to his, the steely expression he’d seen in many when their young were threatened. He knew the look all too well.

“And?” he asked.

“Peasants impersonating nobles can be killed for such a charade,” Yennefer elaborated, “I made her go to the parties and I made her pretend.”

“Why?” he asked, relief and bewilderment warring in his mind.

“She deserves more,” Yennefer said simply.

“So the big secret, the reason she ran and that you’ve spent all of this time running, is because she is not of noble birth?” Geralt asked incredulously.

“It is easy to be dismissive when you have never had these seemingly petty challenges alter or ruin the lives of those around you,” Yennefer snapped.

“I meant no insult,” Geralt said apologetically. And then, deciding he was already in trouble, he added, “Do you feel for me what I feel for you?”

Yennefer’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What?”

He didn’t repeat himself, knowing full well she’d heard him.

“What do you feel for me?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said.

The flames tinged orange and she raised an eyebrow at him.

“I believe it may be something… more. Someday,” he elaborated.

The flames softly receded to their prior gold.

“I feel a great many things for and about you, witcher, and not the least of them is that you would do well not to try and force my hand at sharing my feelings.”

If possible, the flame glowed an even more luminous gold and Geralt smirked.

“Very well,” he said, “Then I only have one last question. Does she love him?”

Yennefer held Geralt’s gaze and then pulled her hand out of his before he could try and grasp it back. They both rose from the seated positions they’d taken on the dock but she did not make a move to run. Instead she considered him carefully before taking a deep breath and opening her mouth to answer.

-----

“Another place, another time

Ire lokke, ire tedd

If I could summon you with rhyme

My tears would cease to shed”

Jaskier screwed up his face in a frown and put the lute down on the table he’d taken. It was late now and most of the patrons had gone to bed or been kicked out to find another place that would serve them. He had tried to sleep but the song plagued him. It haunted him, one of the many ghosts that plagued him along with your face and voice and the feeling of you in his arms. He could do nothing about the loss of you so he worked to quiet the demanding pull of the song, perched on a table and working out the words to capture a heartbreak that knew no equal.

“A game you cannot lose, you said

And yet my king is felled

The rooks and knights gave up the fight

And my heart did as well

You called me fae then ran away

A ghost into the night

And yet I find I follow blind

My love, my loss, my blight”

Jaskier ran a hand through his chestnut hair, leaving it sticking up at odd angles as he threw his head back and took a deep breath. He heard the opening and shutting of a door in the distance and braced himself for the owner to tell him to go back to bed and stop singing. He welcomed the order, unable to force himself away from the song that kept him awake. The footsteps grew nearer and then stopped and Jaskier pulled the lute back into position.

-----

You’d been trying to sleep but the room was too hot, fire fed too much by your countless attempts at putting to words weeks of contemplation and heartache. Yennefer wasn’t back yet and that worried you as well. A small part of you feared that she had run off, not wanting to fight with you about this further and taking the easy way out. You wouldn’t be able to be angry at her if she did. Wasn’t that what you had done to Jaskier?

Somewhere in the distance a song was played. Its chords were slow and sad, and you wondered for a moment if you had conjured the sound through your own melancholy. But your mind couldn’t have created a voice that beautiful. You’d heard all manner of bards through your travels but there was something about this one that wouldn’t let you rest. You didn’t bother putting on more clothes, intending just to peek out and hear him play a little better before sneaking back to bed. The wooden floor was cold beneath your bare feet and your shift, stifling in the hot bedroom, suddenly left you freezing. Yet you didn’t turn around, compelled by the siren song of the unknown bard.

-----

“Yes.”

Geralt’s face broke into a wide smile that filled Yennefer with unease, though she couldn’t deny the beauty of such a rare sight on his face.

“What?” she asked, an edge to her tone.

“It’s over,” he said simply, and turned to walk away.

“What is over?” she demanded, hurrying to catch up with him.

“All of this. He loves her as well, Yennefer, and there is no reason they cannot be together. Not anymore,” he replied.

“It cannot be that easy,” Yennefer argued, shaking her head. Geralt turned and leveled her with a meaningful look.

“It can be, for some people. Sometimes people can just fall in love. Who are we to stop them?” He reached out and gently caressed the slope of her cheek, catching the single tear that fell from her eyes as the truth of his words resonated. She smiled softly and he caught her up in a kiss, tasting her happiness and sharing his own in the gesture.

“There is no time to waste,” she breathed, pulling apart regretfully. “We must tell them. Now.”

-----

Your heart leapt into your mouth and you clasped your hands over your mouth to stifle the gasp. You’d barely reached the end of the hall when you saw him. You weren’t sure you could believe your eyes and you waited for your eyes to clear, for the mirage to give way to the truth of a man who only carried himself with the same bravado or whose mouth just happened to fall into a similar expression. But the eyes held the truth. You could meet a thousand men with chestnut hair or wicked smiles or beautiful cheekbones but only one man on this earth possessed eyes of that shade. And those eyes, those lovely, longing-filled eyes, fell upon yours before you could pull back into the shadows.

-----

Oh gods she’s dead.

The thought flitted through Jaskier’s mind before it could catch up with his eyes. Nearly obscured by shadows, naked but for a white shift, hair in a loose braid that ran past your shoulder. Surely this was a ghost sent to haunt him. But then he saw other things. The reddening of your cheeks as you stared, the perceptible rise and fall of your chest as your heart pounded furiously, and the trembling of your hands as they slowly fell away from your mouth.

“Y/N?” he breathed the word so softly it was nearly impossible to hear. But you heard it.

“Jaskier?” the response came.

He’d imagined a time he may see you again. In his dreams you were cruel and kind, welcoming and shunning, dead and alive. In his dreams he was the hero and the villain, the savior and the tormentor, too late and too heartbroken. He did not know what to feel, he did not know what to think, he did not even know for certain that he wasn’t about to wake at any moment to a cold bed and a hollow ache in his chest. All he knew was that he was slowly moving towards you and you were doing the same. Crossing the tavern floor in a silent march that crossed the weeks apart and briefly stoppered the questions that had filled his mind in the time since you’d left. He felt as though he were standing in the courtyard again but in reverse. No queen running into the wild, just a woman, looking as frightened as hopeful as he felt, slowly reaching out, palm to palm, waiting for the other to vanish.

His hand was warm and solid. There were new callouses and you slid your fingers against them, eyes rising to meet his. He still didn’t know. You still had to tell him. But he was here. You should be scared or confused or remorseful but you were just his. The fact clearer now more than ever.

“Y/N,” he repeated, azure eyes roaming over your face a though he were committing it to memory.

“Jaskier,” you said, the name falling from your lips like a prayer that had finally been answered. He moved his hands to your face, gently wiping away tears you hadn’t noticed were falling, and he tilted your head up towards his, a smile slowly coming over his face as he dared to believe that you were truly here in front of him, in his arms.

His mouth found yours in a kiss that was chaste, lips brushing softly against yours, and then anything but as you pressed against him and he deepened the kiss, roughly gripping a handful of your shift as you tangled yours against the exposed patch of chest hair his undershirt laid open to you. Hands sought out each other’s bodies, rejoicing at the familiar touch of your skin and the warmth of your body and the solid proof of your presence. His tongue slid through your parted lips, welcomed and eagerly met by your own as he walked you both back until he bumped into a table, knocking over the chair that had been set upon it. He hoisted you onto the table, your body pressed between the solid plane of oak beneath you and the solid plane of Jaskier’s body above you, the weight a pleasure to bear. His mouth roamed down your jaw to your neck, beyond words and relying only on the touch of his hand and the insistent caress of his lips across your body to speak of the loneliness and love that had consumed him in the weeks past. His mouth traveled further down, kissing your breasts through the thin fabric of the chemise as you gripped a handful of his hair and arched your back, every inch of you aching to be felt by him. Something brushed at the back of your mind, something important you needed to say, but his mouth felt so heavenly that you nearly forgot.

Nearly.

“Jaskier wait stop,” you forced the words past your lips though your body burned with the need for him to continue. He looked up and his eyes met yours quickly, filled with concern.

“What is it?” he asked.

“You’re married.”

“I am not.”

“You’re not?”

“No.”

“Oh, well, that’s good,” you said. He grinned at you, a twinkle in his eye as his head dipped back downward again but you sat up.

“Wait!”

He pulled away, hands in the air though you saw his eyes continue roaming down your body, marking a path with his eyes that clearly laid out where he intended to go as soon as he was able.

“Jaskier I must tell you something,” you said, summoning all of your courage.

“Yes?” he asked, those sweet, trusting blue eyes gazing into yours.

“I am not a noblewoman,” you said, the words acrid on your tongue though relief flooded you as you spoke your dark secret.

“What?” he asked.

“I am a peasant. I didn’t lie about my name, but I did lie about my station. I ran because I know that’s punishable by death and while I love you, I cannot pretend that I could ever be with a viscount,” you explained, your eyes woeful as you spoke.

 “You love me,” he said. You sighed in exasperation, Jaskier’s eyes catching the quick rise and fall of your breasts as you did before very so quickly jumping back up to your eyes.

“Jaskier is that all you heard me say?” you asked.

“No, love, no. You’re a peasant and you were fearful that you would be killed for impersonating a noblewoman. Yes, I heard you, I hear you, but… you love me?”

“Don’t you care?” you cried, knowing you shouldn’t be upset that he was taking it so well but still struck by how anticlimactic the revelation that had tortured you for weeks had become.

“I care very much! About you,” he explained.

“But even though I love you we cannot be together,” you said, feeling as though you were talking a child through a very basic sum.

“Why ever not?” he asked.

“Because you’re a viscount!” your voice rose so loud you were waiting for patrons to come out at any moment and tell you to shut up.

“Oh! That! Oh, don’t worry, I’m not a viscount anymore!”

You stared at him dumbfounded, mind trying to catch up with the words he was speaking.

“What?”

“Yes, I left! Well I suppose technically I am still a viscount but I figure once you’d abdicated your life you don’t get to keep the title. But you also don’t’ have to follow their stupid rules. No, I am now merely a humble bard,” he said, taking a bow as he introduced her to the man he had chosen to become.

“So you are a bard and I am a peasant,” you said.

“I hope that is alright,” he said, concern flickering in his eyes. You scoffed and began to laugh, shaking your head and pulling him back in for a kiss.

The door flew open and Jaskier quickly pulled you under him, tucking your head under his hand protectively until he saw who walked through the door.

“Geralt?”

“Yennefer?” you added, peeking from behind his arm as he stood up and let you rise as well. Yennefer and Geralt stood in the doorway, winded and looking slightly abashed.

“Jaskier, you found her,” Geralt said.

“Yes I did! No thanks to you I might add,” Jaskier said jokingly.

“It’s truly remarkable how quickly your attitude returns to you when crisis is averted,” Geralt glowered grumpily. Jaskier laughed and looked back at you, his hand holding yours firmly in his.

“Y/N, we spoke about choices earlier. It seems you face yet another,” Yennefer said, though the twinkle in her violet eyes eased the words.

“I do have a choice to make,” you said, turning to look at Jaskier then Geralt and finally landing on Yennefer. “And I know what it shall be.”

-----

The ocean spray gently misted your face and you took a deep breath. Seagulls cried overhead and the wind buffeted your hair, pulling it behind you, getting caught on the sail whose progress it aided. You looked back down at the map in your hand. It had been an especially exciting challenge translating it. You’d had to work with the cartographer and no fewer than two other language references to work it out but you were on your way to an island that hadn’t been explored in ages, if ever.

Arms wrapped around your waist and you tipped your head back, letting it rest against the solid warmth of the man who held you.

“What do you see on the horizon?” Jaskier asked, planting a kiss on your temple as his eyes gazed out where you’d looked moments before.

“I don’t know,” you answered, opening your eyes to meet his.

“Sounds a bit scary,” he teased, pulling you in closer.

“Terrifying,” you added, your eyes flashing with excitement.

“Y/N stay back from the edge of the ship!” Yennefer called. She was leaning by the helm some paces back, instinct driving her to stay close. You rolled your eyes and Jaskier called over his shoulder,

“I have her very well secured, thank you very much!”

You laughed at the exasperation in his tone.

“Will you ever forgive her?” you asked.

“Oh for trying to keep us apart and nearly forever ruining all chances of my happiness? No I don’t think I will actually!” Jaskier replied bitterly.

“You forgave Geralt,” you argued.

“Well he was protecting me,” he said.

“She was doing the same.”

“Well she doesn’t need to anymore,” he groused. You swatted him on the arm and turned to face them.

“Neither of you need to. I’m better equipped to survive this than any of you. Except perhaps Geralt. He doesn’t need to speak to communicate. He can just glower menacingly,” you said, loud enough that the witcher who sat some paces with next to your friend could hear you. He grunted in reply but there was an amused smirk on his lips.

“Is this how it’s going to be for the rest of our lives?” you asked aloud to no one in particular, “Bickering and teasing and gadding about all over creation with only the ocean and our shared status as fugitives a constant in our lives?”

Your three friends considered your words. Geralt was the first to offer a shrugged answer indicating yes, followed by Yennefer who simply shook her head and smiled, resting her hand on Geralt’s shoulder which he quickly covered with his own. Finally, you turned to Jaskier who still looked at you with surprise and awe, a though he still wasn’t sure you here real. You delighted in showing him as often as possible how real and present you were but secretly you loved the way he looked at you.

“Regretting that I found you yet?” he asked, a joke that held a trace of fear. You kissed him, savoring the softness of his lips and the reckless freedom you had to kiss and touch him whenever you pleased. Another souvenir of your time apart you hoped to never lose.

“Oh love,” you said, gently brushing a lock of hair out of his eyes, “I would choose you a thousand times. But I intend to keep you very close so that I only have to do it the once.”