#witchernonsense

As long as you stood perfectly still and didn’t draw attention to yourself, you were safe.

Your dress blended pretty well into the tapestry you crouched by, the reds not exactly the same in shade but enough to help you feel camouflaged. Couples twirled and danced in front of you and you told yourself that this was probably the best way to experience a party. You had the best view and none of the small talk. What more could someone ask for? A dance partner? You’d rather die than betray your horrible lack of experience in courtly practices before this collection of born and bred nobles. You were only there because Jaskier had insisted that he needed at least one interesting person there to talk with between performances and you’d relented. He’d been busy most of the night so far but you were fine with that. He had a way of attracting attention that you usually didn’t mind but nothing about this night was usual. Still, the music was good and the food you’d snuck off the banquet table (your first tactic before you’d found the tapestry was to keep your mouth full at all times so you didn’t have to talk to anyone) was good. As long as you stood perfectly still and didn’t draw attention to yourself, this night would pass without incident.

And then Jaskier saw you.

He’d been searching for you all night, excited to see you at the banquet helping yourself to some of the promised delicacies but you’d somehow disappeared shortly after. As he worked the crowd he could only half-enjoy the applause and praise, seeking out the person whose approval he’d come to value over all others. His eyes glanced are you and he did a doubletake, squinting to make sure that it was your face he saw barely poking out from its shadowy depths. This would never do. He finished the song and gestured for the musicians to continue performing and began to make his way over to you.

You could tell by his determined gait as he made a beeline for you that nothing good would come of whatever came next but you put on a winning smile.

“You have not danced once,” he said, hands propping on his hips as he leveled the accusation at you. Your eyes widened slightly as though you hadn’t realized this.

“Oh? I guess that’s so! Well, they do such a lovely presentation I hate to rob myself of the sight,” you say, your voice just a bit too high and a bit too cloying.

“I believe you’ll find it is even better up close,” he insists and then, oh gods, he holds out his hand. You stare at it and look for something to put in it, but coming up empty, berating yourself for finishing off the cheese cubes you’d brought over.

“Y/N,” he says pointedly.

“Jaskier,” you reply sweetly.

“You aren’t leaving this fete without a dance.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

“That is entirely up to you.”

You sigh and he can see genuine distress on your face which softens him a little. Not his resolve, just his tactic.

“Allow me to take you under my courtly wing, I have more than a little experience at these events and it feels a shame not to use that knowledge to help you enjoy it. I won’t throw you in the paths of any stuffy dukes, just you and me and one dance,” he says.

“I know what you’re doing,” you say.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re charming me,” you say, poking his chest in emphasis. He recoils as though you’ve run him through with a sword.

“I am simply trying to ensure that you have a good time. If you find me charming, that’s entirely up to your interpretation,” he says. You open your mouth to respond but the song ends and Jaskier can hear them moving into the next one.

“Right! Here we go!” and he grabs your hand, pulling you onto the edge of the dancefloor, an attempt at a compromise. Once there he holds up one arm and gestures for you to raise yours as well, palms touching.

“Alright, just do everything I do,” he says, as though it’s that simple, as though you won’t need time to see what he’s doing to know how to move your limbs and oh god why does this dance require all four of them in contradictory poses and how does everyone but you seem to know how to do this so easily. You hear chuckling nearby and don’t pay it any attention at first but then you hear someone murmur something a bit more pointed and you look over to see some lord or duke or something smirking at you, whispering loudly to his companion. Your face burns hotly and you try to follow Jaskier but you’re flustered and you when you accidentally kick him in the shins you stop.

“Honestly that happens all the time,” Jaskier says, trying to hide the limp as he moves to pull you back into formation.

“I should go,” you say, working hard to keep the trembling out of your voice.

“Y/N, no, it’s really ok and nobody even cares,” he insists. You scoff and to worsen your embarrassment a tear falls down your cheek.

“Y/N, what-”

Jaskier’s words stall as he sees past you at the lord who he sees pointing and laughing at you, doing a cruel pantomime of the steps you’d been trying to complete. You look back up at Jaskier to apologize and insist you’re alright but you swallow the words in shock. Jaskier’s face darkens and his mouth curls up into a feral sneer that he levels at you – no, not at you – past you. Before you can say anything further Jaskier is brushing past you, launching himself at your tormentor like an arrow loosed from a bow, sharp and steady and deeply dangerous.

“Ah Jaskier, you performed splendidly toni-”

The man’s words are halted by Jaskier’s fist, connecting with his jaw and knocking him off balance. Before he can recover Jaskier has seized him by the collar.

“You pompous bastard,” Jaskier bites out as he backs the lord into a nearby column, oblivious and uncaring to the gasps of surprise around him, focused solely on the man in his crosshairs. The man sputters and tries to loosen Jaskier’s grip with his fingers but his attempts are fruitless. Jaskier holds him up against the column and seethes in his face, the normally charming features warped with anger.

“You miserable scrap of offal, how dare you even look at her. You don’t deserve to breathe her air and you dare to mock her? Does it make you feel bigger? Does it make you feel like a man to tear another down? Answer me you worthless degenerate,” Jaskier demands, nearly spitting in the man’s face as he shakes him slightly but his hands are too tightly wound around the collar and the man struggles to breathe much less form words. Unseen arms pull Jaskier away and the man collapses, gasping. Jaskier shrugs off the guard who’s grabbed him and levels a final look at the man on the ground.

“If you ever so much as look at her again I will garrote you with the strings of my lute and charge your widow for a replacement,” Jaskier growls. When he turns he doesn’t see or care about the party staring at him in terror, he only seeks your face.

You’d watched Jaskier’s assault torn between shock and arousal. You weren’t sure what it said about you that watching Jaskier nearly strangle a man to death made you weak but you didn’t have time to examine it because Jaskier sees you and is halfway across the floor to you in an instant. His face is still red and the veins in his neck are still bulging slightly but his eyes are soft and caring, somewhere mid-transformation between the man you knew and the man you didn’t know he could become.

“Y/N I’m so sorry,” he says earnestly, taking your hands in his, “Are you alright? We can leave.”

“Well, yes, we do have to leave because I think they’re going to try and arrest you,” you say, pointing to the man who is rising back to his feet, boldened by the crowd that keeps the two of them apart. You pull Jaskier away and hurry towards the doors.

“Are you alright though?” he asks as you make your way back to town through the woods to keep your tracks hidden. You laugh.

“I am,” you say, “And you were right you know.”

He gives you a confused expression as he helps you climb over a log. You can feel your dress snag on something and rip but you don’t like this dress that much anyway.