Chapter Text
– four years later –
“I’m home.”
Yennefer takes her shoes off as soon as she closed the door behind her. She usually had no problems walking on her murderous high heels, but six days consecutively was pushing it.
Marti had mentioned she had invented a salve for just this purpose. Maybe she should hit her up.
But not today. Today she would be hitting nobody up, she would curl up with her lovers and sip tea and not say a single word until she’d had her morning coffee tomorrow.
What was up with Philippa and her stupid lodge anyway? Was this really better than putting up with Stregobor and Vilgefortz’s bullshit? Why did they have to stay in Philippa’s stupid house in Montecalvo for days on end when they could just portal in and out from home? Too many magical signatures my ass, Yennefer thinks bitterly. She just likes to have us all trapped there with her to show us who’s in charge. One of these days, I should probably just sacrifice Triss to her like that blonde girl in King Kong, maybe that will calm the bitch down.
Yennefer finds herself frowning as she checks their shared calendar and calculates that Ciri and Geralt have been gone for two days now. It’s Ciri’s first time working as a Witcher on her own, and while Lambert might not be the most reliable of companions, Yennefer felt better when Ciri still worked under his guidance. At least Geralt is traveling with her, even if he officially can’t hunt yet. Which is ironic, because the child he is supposed to not traumatize by not hunting is herself hunting.
One year to go, Yennefer thinks. Then she’ll be twenty-one and Geralt will take up work as a Witcher again. Then they’ll both be away for weeks and months on end…
She smiles to herself when she remembers the silver lining of it all, and makes for the attic.
With some time and materials and some magic as well, they turned it into a little studio for Jaskier to work on his music. It hadn’t taken much for Yennefer to convince him to cut back on his day job a little so he’d have more time for this; he isn’t as uselessly proud as Geralt, he doesn’t mind contributing less to their expenses than Yennefer, and he loves his music.
And that’s what he’s doing despite the late hour, he’s in his chair playing one of his guitars, a big set of noise-canceling headphones on his head, singing under his breath.
Yennefer sends a small purple light into the room. In the air, it takes the form of a tiny blackbird and flits around Jaskier, attracting his attention, hopefully without startling him. She had told him when she would be back, but he always gets so engrossed when he’s playing.
He gets up and turns around, the biggest smile on his face as he sees her. The blackbird blows out like a candle flame.
Carefully, he puts his guitar and his headphones away and stalks through the room, over the cables and implements strewn about.
“You’re back!”
They kiss, and he squeezes her affectionately.
“How was work treating you?”
“It was a shitshow,” Yennefer replies, but she can’t stop smiling as she kisses him again. “I’m so glad to be home. How was Geralt treating you?”
Jaskier blushes and avoids her question, but later, with a little bit of coaxing, he answers candidly.