And yet... Here we are

A song

Six months. Jaskier had been at the tavern in Novigrad with no word from either Geralt nor Yennefer. Snow had coated the cobblestone roads and made the cracks in the stone seemingly disappear. The wind blew and tried to slip past the walls of the tavern. Men came into the tavern simply to get out of the cold and were met with lines of lit torches on the wall. They didn't offer much heat, but little heat was still more than no heat. 

The bard stood on a raised platform and strummed a tune of a song he had known for a while. The fishmonger's daughter. Jaskier had sung the words so many times, he didn't have to think about the next tune or note. The people of the tavern clapped along to the words. The bard spun on the stage and leaned into the words. A smile was placed on his face as the song came to an end. 

The applause rose as the troubadour bowed. He held the lute by the neck as he walked to the bar. He accepted the coins Zoltan handed him for his performances for the past night. The bard sat upon a stool as the dwarf gave him a beer. 

"How long are you going to stay in Novigrad?" Zoltan asked only after the bard put the now near-empty mug back on the counter.

"I didn't plan on staying this long." Jaskier admitted. He looked at the beer in the mug as the liquid moved slightly from all the men in the tavern moving about. "I suppose I thought it nice to stay in one place. Geralt always had me moving about." 

Zoltan nodded. 

"Perhaps when the snow clears, I could pay the countess a visit..." 

Jaskier gave a softer smile as he remembered the woman. Her brown hair had always cascaded over her shoulders with such grace, it would cause a waterfall to envy. Her green eyes were pools of emeralds, so deep and full it was easy to fall in and drown amidst the viridescent waters. Her body had always reminded him of the mountains in Skellige, shapely and unforgiving. 

"The countess?" Zoltan asked as he filled Jaskier's beer. 

"The Countess de Stael." The bard clarified. When Zoltan still showed no recognition, the troubadour sighed and set his lute on the counter. "Imagine the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in the world, now make her prettier." Jaskier traced the shape of an hourglass with his hands in front of the dwarf. "The eyes of green, hair of brown, and the complexion of olives. Now add a feisty personality. That's the countess." 

"Ah." Zoltan nodded as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

"I was stumbling over myself when she first met me." Jaskier put his hands on the counter and leaned forward. "I was 19 and she was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. I started writing poetry and composing because of her." 

"So, we have her to blame for you singing every night in my tavern?" Zoltan laughed heartily. 

Jaskier pressed his lips together before he simply shrugged at the words. "Yeah," He smiled softly before he stood from the stool. He hadn't even touched the beer since it had been refilled. "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room." Jaskier grabbed his lute gently around the neck before he paused. "If any noble man comes looking for me, you've never met me." 

Zoltan laughed at the comment and nodded. The bard made his way up the stairs. He waited until the door shut behind him before he ever let his smile fall. Heavily, the door shut behind him. Jaskier walked to his desk and sat down at his desk. He cupped his palm over the wick and took a few tries with a match to light the candle. When the flame igniting the wooden top of the desk, Jaskier pulled out his leatherbound journal and flipped it open to a new page. 

The troubadour grabbed his lute and began to pluck at the strings. The same sorrowful tune from the inn when he had left Geralt at the party filled the air. Jaskier sighed and gave way to the sad tune his mind would refuse to let him forget.