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Jaskier winked at his witcher as he took to the stage, the annual Solstice Bardic Carolling Competition, Jaskier’s favourite event of the year, especially when Geralt was still around to watch. There were evergreen garlands strewn all over the frosty meadow just outside Oxenfurt. Candles were in every otherwise free space, lighting up the dark night with their flickering glow, the scent of spices lingering in the air. Jaskier took a deep breath, shivering as the chill entered his lungs, and began to sing. He was confident in his performance. This was a competition he had won four years in a row, not even Valdo Marx could knock him off his perch. Once he was finished with his first song he gave a bow and was about to launch into his second carol when a haughty cough interrupted him. His fingers knocked awkwardly on his lute strings, creating a nasty twang and he winced.
He turned to glare at the interloper and his jaw dropped. The most gorgeous man stood at the edge of the stage, dressed in deep burgundy with a matching hat and rather spectacular feather pinned into the soft silky fabric. Long blond hair fell in gentle curls past his shoulders, and he was almost elven in beauty. His lute certainly was, Jaskier was well acquainted with elven craftsmanship and the lute in the new bard’s delicate hands was a prime example of an elven lute. It was almost identical to his own.
Jaskier scoffed. This man must be a fan of his, why else would he have a copy of his lute, and by Melitele herself, there was something so familiar about his eyes, strikingly blue and twinkling in the candle light. Gods, he looked like some kind of angel.
“Can I help you?” He asked, narrowing his eyes at the handsome stranger.
The other man’s fingers moved on his lute strings, drawing Jaskier’s attention. He had musician’s fingers, long and delicate and oh the things those fingers could do. He blushed and shook the thought from his mind. Jaskier noticed with horror that the man was playing the introduction to Jaskier’s next carol. He hadn’t published his set, how the hell did this man, this imposter, know!?
“Now before you steal my whole set, please allow me a chance to play?” The blond bard let out the most melodious laugh that Jaskier had ever heard, tugging at his heart strings.
Jaskier gaped at the man, unable to find the words to protest. His traitorous heart was racing in his chest and he knew that he was falling in love, far too soon as always. He just stammered as this new bard started to sing his next song, oh and the fucking bastard had the voice of an angel to match his appearance, Jaskier was utterly smitten, and he didn’t even know his name.
When the bard was finished he bowed gracefully, the feather in his hat brushing the floor, and then winked at Jaskier. “Your turn, my dear, perhaps we could duet?”
Jaskier blushed and struggled to regain his composure. He tapped out a rhythm on the polished wood on his lute. “Can I at least know your name, darling angel?”
“You can call me… Dandelion.”
“Dandelion,” Jaskier repeated with what he hoped was a charming smile. “Well, then… Dandelion, let’s play, our audience awaits.”
Dandelion laughed and counted them in, seamlessly taking the bottom melody without any prompting as Jaskier’s fingers danced on his own lute decorating his top line flawlessly. Their voices joined in a gorgeous harmony that should have required months of rehearsal but they just… fit.
Jaskier laughed as they held hands to bow together. Dandelion squeezed his hand and Jaskier felt as if his heart was growing in his chest. He always fell in love too quickly… but it was always worth it in the end.