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Yennefer quietly seethed from the far side of the crowded tavern as she watched Jaskier talk to some wench at the bar, glaring daggers at the pair of them, almost daring Jaskier to turn around and see her rage. Perhaps if he did he would cease his flirting and return to their table, but then he would want to know what had upset her and that would only lead to a conversation she wasn’t ready to have just yet.
She knew she ought to have grown used to his behaviour by now. Since they left Oxenfurt about a month ago he’d made a habit of charming his way into other people’s beds after finishing his set. The first time it had happened, she’d been completely caught off-guard by the storm of emotions that had roiled in her gut at the sight of him flirting. By now it happened every time they spent the night in a town. She had come to expect it from him, not that it made idly sitting by any easier.
She’d stopped paying for a room for the two of them a few weeks ago, having found more often than not she was wasting coin on a bed that wasn’t going to get used. No, these days Jaskier would sing for his adoring audience before disappearing with whoever happened to be closest when he finished and only return once the sun had fully risen. It was infuriating for a multitude of reasons.
The main one, which she had reluctantly admitted to herself lying awake one night, was that she missed when they would share a bed, or even just a room. While they had been staying at the academy for the duration of Jaskier’s recovery, they had had to share the bed as there hadn’t been room for a second, so she had grown used to his presence and now missed him when he wasn’t there, despite the snoring and the clinginess.
To her utter horror, at some point she had grown attached to the bard and was upset when he wasn’t around, though a significant part of her acknowledged that it was in fact good that she had found someone she felt close to in that way after all this time.
In the rare moments she was completely honest with herself, the closeness she felt with Jaskier had started long before his latest near-death experience. She’d tried to avoid confronting her feelings about him, but she could no longer deny there was… something there. She just wasn’t sure what those feelings were exactly, which was where things got complicated.
It wasn’t like how she’d felt with Geralt. That had initially been driven by lust and curiosity, cemented by whatever wish he’d made to save her life. She hadn’t waited to ask for details about it when the truth had come out on the mountain, but she doubted he had wished for anything as direct as her falling in love with him. Though she still found herself missing the witcher, she hesitated to call it love, and not just because she now knew the feelings she’d held were at least partially a product of magic.
Yennefer wasn’t sure she’d ever felt love, at least not how it was typically described. In all the songs, poems and stories she’d heard pertaining to romantic love, she had never really connected with it, deriding it and claiming it to be nothing more than exaggerated tales for dramatic effect. Even when she had been with Istredd all those decades ago in Aretuza, it had always been more about being wanted than being loved, though it had been nice while it lasted.
After a while she’d started ignoring those kinds of things altogether, but after coming to the conclusion she did in fact feel something for Jaskier, she’d started paying attention again, hoping to find an answer.
While she still found it all terribly boring and over exaggerated, she couldn’t deny that the vast majority of people seemed to buy into it. It made her feel like an outsider, like everyone else was in on the joke. She strongly suspected that the love songs Jaskier had written had indeed come from the heart and that he too felt love like everyone else seemed to, which only served to make her feel worse about her predicament.
If she had felt the same then she may very well have admitted her feelings to him by now. He had certainly dropped more than a few hints that he was also interested in her over the past year after all. But she didn’t and the last thing she wanted was to lose him either because she couldn’t be what he needed, or because she had trapped him in in a relationship where he would be unhappy. There was little doubt in her mind that if she did come clean, he would try to make it work between them for her sake, because he was selfless like that when it came to those he cared about. But she knew he would be miserable. So she kept it to herself, her dirty little secret.
The secrecy might not last much longer however as she watched the woman he was talking to place her hand on his arm and lean in closer, saying something to make him laugh. The wooden cup she was holding creaked in her grip as she fought to keep her emotions in check. Jealousy was never a pleasant emotion to have, but least of all when she still hadn’t figured out why she felt the way she did as she had been unable to place what exactly she wanted from him.
Initially she had assumed it might be because she wanted to be the one Jaskier went to for sex but just the thought of the two of them like that made her cringe. They may be close, but it was clear enough to her that she didn’t want him like that. That unfortunately left few options for her misplaced possessiveness of him, and instead of trying to figure it out, she decided to simply push the whole problem to the back of her mind in favour of glaring at everyone he so much as looked at. This approach did nothing to solve the problem of course and left her feeling horrible.
She was all but helpless to watch as Jaskier continued to talk with the woman for several more minutes before she grabbed his hand and began leading him through the crowd towards the door. Yennefer was almost tempted to go over and steal him back, but what right did she have to do such a thing. They weren’t together in any sense of the word. They were just… travel companions. Friends. Nothing else.
Except she was kidding herself. Perhaps when she’d first come across him, deathly ill well over a year ago that had been true, but since then their relationship had most certainly evolved, especially after he almost died the last time when the cave collapsed. The fear she had felt when she had to leave him behind to get help still hadn’t fully left her, rearing its head in her nightmares and waking her in a cold sweat. Even their stay in Oxenfurt while he recovered hadn’t settled her, despite it being the first time since they started travelling that they’d ever actually stopped anywhere for more than a couple of nights.
The memory of him pleading with her to stay when she’d tried to leave him for his own safety was another that often plagued her. How he had begged her not to leave him like everyone else. They still hadn’t discussed that yet, despite claiming they would one day. She hated the thought that enough people had left him that he assumed everyone would eventually, unhelped by the fact that Geralt, the man he had followed for over half his life had done just that. At that point, she had refused to be added to that particular list.
But where did that leave her? She refused to leave Jaskier behind, and she doubted he would leave her either unless something tremendously awful happened, stupidly loyal as he was. But now she was left pining for something she couldn’t understand. That wasn’t to say she hadn’t tried to understand, but it was all too messy, conflicting wants warring away and no words to put to them. All she knew was that she wanted Jaskier for herself and she hated when he left.
With a sigh of frustration, she drained the last of her ale before heading to her room upstairs. It was unlikely he would be back tonight, so she locked the door behind her before readying herself for bed, trying her best to put the whole sorry mess out of her mind.
For weeks Jaskier had known something was off with Yennefer. Ever since they had left Oxenfurt she’d been acting strangely around him. At first he’d brushed it off as nervousness about being back on the road, what with him only recently being able to walk unassisted after his injuries. But a month passed and whatever foul mood had gripped her had only worsened.
To make matters worse, he was having his own crisis. He had known for some months already that he had… feelings for Yennefer, but his latest brush with death had brought the clarity he’d needed to see that he had in fact fallen hard for her. If she was anyone else, he wouldn’t have hesitated to declare his love for her the moment he’d realised, but she wasn’t, she was Yennefer of Vengerberg.
It wasn’t exactly easy to break the news that he was in love with the most powerful mage on the continent. She would sooner abandon him at the side of the road without a second glance than accept what he was saying. And it wouldn’t be malicious, he just knew she simply had too many bad experiences to allow herself to get hurt again. He couldn’t blame her, having had plenty of relationships turn sour himself.
It wasn’t that his feelings were new that he was struggling with, it was just that almost dying for the third time had finally made him realise that he could no longer deny how he felt. He loved her, and not for something petty like her power or influence, or even really her looks, though he would be a fool to say she wasn’t the most beautiful woman in existence.
For years he had assumed she was nothing but cold and calculating, only looking out for herself and leaving everyone else floundering in the wake of her destruction. It was why he had tried to warn Geralt away from her on more than one occasion, afraid of him getting hurt. His endeavour had proven useless in the end, what with Geralt killing their relationship himself by admitting to the wish he had made several years too late. Unfortunately, that had immediately led to the breakdown in their friendship, though in all honestly he’d seen it coming for some time.
But now he knew the real Yennefer. Underneath all the layers of indifference and superiority, she was human. She was as insecure as him, both of them hiding it in their own way, searching for somewhere to belong. He thought he had found the place he belonged at Geralt’s side but that had never been quite right, not with the way the witcher would often tell him to be quiet, to not fall behind, to do as he’s told, to fundamentally change his nature so that he could be accepted. The fact that he rarely admitted they were even friends should’ve been the biggest warning sign in retrospect, but the Path was the closest thing Jaskier had had to a home in years, so he had clung to it like a lifeline.
Now he had Yennefer, and though they still traded barbs, it felt right. Instead of acerbic insults designed to hurt, they bantered, the words the same but turned affectionate. He gave as good as he got and there was never that ever present imbalance he’d had with Geralt. They were equals, as strange as it was to think. Jaskier had almost forgotten what that felt like. It truly felt like home, and he was desperate to keep it. Hence why he couldn’t tell Yennefer how he felt. If he did, there was the chance she would simply leave, not wanting to be tied down.
He wouldn’t blame her. He knew she cared about him, the numerous times she’d had to save his life and help him recover a testament to that. He also knew however that she was still holding on to Geralt’s betrayal and would rather flee than face commitment again. He didn’t hold it against her, how could he when he knew exactly what that felt like.
So, instead of facing his feelings, he turned to other means of coping, namely worming his way into as many people’s beds as he could to take his mind off it. It was always soured by feelings of guilt, but for a while he could take his mind off everything before returning to the woman he could never have.
Yennefer finally had enough after two months of having to sit and watch helplessly. They were in yet another tavern where Jaskier had been playing. The crowd gleefully singing along and tossing coins his way as he flitted between the tables. She always enjoyed his performances, right up until they ended. She would happily watch him sing and dance, completely in his element doing what he did best. She knew what came after however, and so she dreaded the end of his performance.
Sure enough, as soon as his lute was safely tucked away in its case, he was approached by a dark-haired man who looked to be in his thirties. She watched as Jaskier led him over to the bar where he ordered them some drinks. Her jaw was already beginning to hurt from how hard she was grinding her teeth. She was at her limit, damn the consequences. She forced herself to relax, slipping on a mask of cool indifference before making her way over to the two of them.
“Jaskier,” she greeted casually, reaching between the two men to take the cup closest to Jaskier before he had the chance to do so himself.
“Oh, erm, Yennefer,” he said, glancing awkwardly between her and the man. She purposefully ignored the other man by turning her back to him, hoping he would get the hint and leave. “Is… is everything alright?”
“Of course,” she said with a slight shrug, taking a sip of ale and very carefully not pulling a face at the bitter taste.
“I’m… I need to go,” the man said after a tense few seconds, pushing away from the bar. “It was a pleasure to meet you Jaskier,” he said hastily before fleeing into the crowd.
“What was that for,” Jaskier asked indignantly as he reached for the other man’s untouched ale and took a swig himself, unsuccessful in hiding his displeasure with it as she had.
“I’m tired and the last thing I want is you stumbling back in the middle of the night and waking me.” It was a flimsy lie and she knew it, but she was hoping he would be too mad at her for ruining his night to question it. She turned to head back to their table, pleased to find no one else had claimed it while she was gone.
“What?” he squawked from behind. “I never come back before morning if I can help it specifically because I don’t want to wake you. I don’t fancy being turned into a toad for the minor transgression of waking you five minutes early.” She didn’t turn back around but she heard his voice follow close behind as she pushed through the packed room.
“But you do come back in the night sometimes.” She sat back in her seat, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow, challenging him to refute the statement. He didn’t, instead sitting in the seat opposite and taking another large gulp of ale.
“What’s this really about Yen?” he asked, setting down his cup, annoyingly earnest.
“Nothing. I’m just tired,” she said with another shrug, carefully avoiding his eyes. It was always hard to lie to him when he was looking at her like that.
“You’re not just tired, you’ve been in a foul mood for months. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”
Had she really been that obvious? She would have to be more careful in the future if she was going to avoid confronting the mess in her heart. Instead of answering she quickly got to her feet. “I’m going to bed. Either join me within the hour or don’t come back before dawn,” she said, a little more sharply than she intended before heading for the stairs.
“Wait, Yen!” he called after her as he scrambled to his feet. She didn’t slow down, using just a touch of chaos to help her pass through the crowd with ease. She’d barely made it to the top of the stairs before she heard Jaskier coming up behind her.
“Yen,” he said softly, his hand reaching for her wrist. She hesitated, enjoying the warmth of his touch for just a moment before pulling away and turning back towards their room without a word. Unsurprisingly he followed her inside and she suddenly felt trapped. She shouldn’t have interfered, should’ve just let him fuck whoever he wanted instead of giving in to whatever twisted possessiveness she felt over him.
He closed the door behind him, his eyes never leaving her. He didn’t cross the room however, possibly sensing she now felt backed into a corner and wanted to give her space. He was considerate like that. She tried to distract herself by rummaging through her bag, though she wasn’t really looking for anything in particular, just hoping and waiting for the subject to be dropped.
“Have I done something wrong?” he asked after a moment of heavy silence, his voice uncharacteristically timid.
“No,” she said without looking at him. “You haven’t done anything.”
“Is… is there something I should have done?” he asked again, still so unsure.
She shook her head. “You’re fine, Jaskier. I’m just…”
“Don’t say you’re just tired Yen,” he said softly, his voice lacking any anger. “I know you better than that.” He took a step forward, catching her attention as she gave up on the bag. He was watching her carefully like she was a spooked animal that might bolt at any second. They were both fully aware that if she really wanted to, she could simply portal away and leave him alone in their room until the subject was firmly dropped. She wouldn’t though, he didn’t deserve that just because she’d made a mess of things.
He was standing in front of her now, hovering just a couple of feet away, unwilling to cross into her space without permission. “Tell me what’s wrong, please? I can’t help if I don’t know.”
It was so tempting to give in right then, but he didn’t need her mess. Even if he felt the same for her, he deserved someone who knew what the fuck they wanted from him, not her strange and confused wants. She chose not to answer straight away, stepping into his space and bringing her arms up to pull him into a hug.
He reciprocated at once, holding her just tight enough to soothe away some of her anxiety. She could hear his heart beating fast where she rested her head against his chest. She wasn’t the only one feeling on edge right now it seemed. She let out a sigh and let herself take him in. He was warm and solid against her and he smelt of sweat and beer and underneath it all there was something uniquely him. He didn’t press for details, but she knew this conversation wasn’t over yet. She was only buying time.
“Is it that I keep going off with other people whenever we pass through civilisation?” he asked after a while, half-joking but still gentle. Yennefer didn’t answer with words, burying her head further into him with a small hum, neither confirming nor denying explicitly.
“So, it is something I’ve done,” he said.
“No,” she said, finally pulling back a little to look up at him. “No, I meant it when I said it’s not you. It’s me, I’m being foolish. I didn’t mean for it to start affecting you.”
“Alright, but I still think you ought to tell me since whatever it is is still upsetting you and I have to live with your foul mood.”
She lay her head back against him, tightening her hold on him for a moment. If nothing else, she had at least confirmed that she did in fact want to be physically close to him. “I think I love you,” she whispered, quiet enough that she almost hoped he hadn’t heard her.
She knew he had the moment she felt his body stiffen, already bracing herself for when she inevitably broke his heart. “You… you think?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, finally releasing him to take a step back. He let her go but he seemed reluctant, his hands lingering until she was out of reach.
“You don’t need to apologise Yen. Shit, I love you too,” he said. And wasn’t that a punch to the gut. He sounded so sure, and she hated it. She’d given him false hope, because she couldn’t possibly imagine he would be content with the incomplete way she wanted him.
Tears welled in her eyes against her will. He must have noticed as his expression morphed from surprised to one of concern. “Yen?” he said, already reaching for her again. She turned away, moving back across the room to sit on the bed. He didn’t follow her, remaining standing in the middle of the room by himself.
She buried her face in her hands, wanting to hide away from the mess she’d just made. The thought of portalling away sounded particularly tempting now but she couldn’t leave Jaskier like this. She would have to see this through and explain herself. Somehow.
“I’m sorry,” she said after taking a few deep breaths, wiping away the few tears that had dared to fall.
He shook his head slightly before speaking. “What for? What’s wrong?”
“I don’t… I’m…” she tried, but the right words eluded her. Jaskier finally moved towards her, kneeling down on the floor beside her so he could see her when she lowered her head to hide again. Hesitantly he reached out for her hand resting on her lap. She let him take it, lacing his fingers through hers.
“What did you mean you think you love me?” he asked. There was no accusation or anger, only a genuine desire to understand. A starting point. A lifeline.
She sighed, a heavy thing as she willed all her frustrations to leave her. She was trying so hard to somehow put her feelings into words. If this was where they parted ways, the very least she could do for him was explain why. “I do, love you I mean. But I’m not sure… how?”
“As in, you don’t know why you love me?” he asked slowly.
She shook her head. “No, the why is obvious. I mean…” she sighed again, trying not to get annoyed with herself. “I don’t know in what way I love you.”
“Oh.” He withdrew slightly, just barely pulling back, wide blue eyes searching for some kind of clarity on her face. She held on tighter to his hand, afraid he might try to pull away completely before she could finish.
“I’m sorry. I wish I had the right words for this.” She took a breath, willing herself to come up with something that didn’t result in heartbreak. “You’re… I don’t know. You’re something important to me, I just haven’t figured out what.”
“I-I’m important… to you,” he repeated, awestruck as though that was the part that was difficult to understand.
“Of course you are. Do you honestly believe I’d let anyone else travel with me for this long? I barely ever gave Geralt more than a week before I’d leave again.” She leant in closer to him, bringing her free hand up to cup his face.
“Yen, I’d be more than happy to take whatever you’re willing to give me, regardless of much or how little that may be,” he said, leaning into her touch.
“You deserve more than what I can give.”
“Would… would it help to, I don’t know, talk me through what exactly it is that you think might be the problem? If you’re afraid I’m going to think you’re weird and leave or something then I can assure you now, that won’t happen, I promise. We’ve been through too much for that.”
His reassurance brought a small smile to her lips and finally the coil of fear in her gut began to loosen. “I’m not sure how to put it into words I’m afraid,” she said, admitting her failings out loud.
“Alright,” he said nodding. “What if I go first then?”
“You?”
He nodded. “Full disclosure, I’m not exactly what most people consider “normal” when comes to relationships either.” He didn’t wait for her response before clearing his throat nervously and pushing on. “I erm… well despite what you may think, I don’t actually fall in love with people all that easily,” he began. “It’s actually quite hit or miss, and I can count on one hand the number of times it’s ever led to anything.”
“Really, with all your love songs and romantic ballads?” she said, somewhat disbelieving.
“Yes, well, while love in that sense might not be something that comes all that easily to me, I’m something of a hopeless romantic in a more abstract sense,” he said, a slight tremor in his voice. “I can appreciate the appeal of this big thing that moves people to do seemingly impossible things, but I rarely think about wanting that for myself.”
As he spoke, it felt like pieces of herself were finally falling into place. She wasn’t the only one, and if someone as caring and kind as Jaskier felt similarly then perhaps this wasn’t a lost cause. “Am I an exception then?” she asked.
“You are.” He punctuated the statement by lifting their joined hands and pressing a kiss to the back of hers.
He had given her the courage to try now, to make an attempt at sorting the mess of her feelings to help him understand. “I think I feel similarly in that regard,” she began. “I’ve never been drawn to romance, and I don’t think I’ve ever felt it for myself. So I don’t love you, at least not like that.”
As harsh as her words sounded to her own ears, he only nodded encouragingly at her, a faint smile still on his lips. She pressed on, not wanting to lose momentum now she had started. “I, erm, well there’s something else and I don’t know how to say it without sounding cruel.”
“Just say it for now, I won’t be upset. I promise.”
She took another deep breath. The fear that he would leave was gone but she would rather avoid hurting his feelings still if it could be at all helped. But with no alternative phrasing coming to mind, she would have to be blunt and try to smooth it over after. “I don’t want to have sex with you,” she said quickly, already wincing.
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with mild surprised which was almost worse. The lack of a reaction was unsettling so she began babbling, trying to ease whatever offence she might have caused. “It’s not that I think you’re ugly or anything, and I don’t think you’d be bad at it, I just, I don’t—”
“Yen, it’s alright,” he said, cutting her off. “Is that really what’s been worrying you? That you don’t want to fuck me? Because if it is, I’d be quite happy to not fuck you if that’s what you want.” The directness of his statement caught her so off-guard that she laughed, a short, surprised thing that was far too loud in the small room.
“That was a significant part of it yes,” she said, somewhat stunned.
“I get it... sort of. While personally I do greatly enjoy sex as a thing to do, I could take it or leave it. It’s not that important to me,” he shrugged.
“But all those men and women—”
“Just a distraction,” he said, shaking his head. “I was trying not to think of you. It didn’t work very well, it has to be said,” he trailed off with a frown. “Wait, was that why you’ve been upset, because I’ve been sleeping with so many people?”
“It may have been a contributing factor,” she said sheepishly. “It wasn’t your fault thought.” He only gave a hum at that, looking away. “Hey, none of that,” she said, stroking her thumb across his cheek.
“So just to make sure we’re both on the same page, we love each other for certain, right?”
“Yes,” she said, glad it could be spoken freely without fear of misunderstanding.
“Okay, good,” he mumbled, nodding a little to himself. “You’re still not entirely sure what that entails on your part, but you know you don’t want to have sex with me, which I don’t mind at all because honestly I don’t get why it’s such a big deal. Like, sure, it’s fun, but there’s other fun things you can do.”
He was rambling now, and she couldn’t help but find it endearing. “Bard,” she said, interrupting to get him back on track.
“Right, sorry. I assume things like this,” he said, lifting their still joined hands, “are alright?”
“Yes.” She ran her thumb over the back of his hand with a smile. “I like this.”
“Are we going to give it a go then, whatever… this might be?” he asked, gesturing between them.
She pulled him to his feet by their joined hands, encouraging him to sit beside her on the bed. Only then did she let go of his hand, pulling him into a hug instead. His arms came up around her, holding her close. She buried her head in his chest once more while he rested his cheek against her hair.
“Yeah,” she said, relaxing into the embrace, her voice muffled by his shirt. “I think I’d like that.”