And yet... Here we are

You Know My Name

"I already told you that I have no idea who you are!" Jaskier protested. He hovered by the fireplace in the stone home. "All I know of you is when I was lying on the ground you stood over me. The beautiful lady teleported us back here so I wouldn't freeze to death because I am drenched. That's all I know of you." 

"Think harder!" The harsh voice snapped. Those narrowed yellow eyes felt as though they bared into the troubadour's soul.

"Look, I don't even know your name!" Jaskier protested. He turned his back to the fireplace so he could not only keep an eye on the taller man but also warm up his back and the back of his legs. 

"You know my name, Jaskier."

"I promise I don't." The bard sighed. He leaned on the stone wall, carefully placed so the fire wouldn't jump and light him aflame. Jaskier looked over at the raven-haired mage who rummaged around one of the desks covered in papers. "Though you obviously know mine... Is this some vendetta? That mage, is she someone to you? Is she your wife, sister, daughter? If I slept with her, I apologize but I swear I don't remember it. Surely you wouldn't punish a man for a crime he cannot remember."

The man's face twisted with a face akin to disgust. Jaskier nodded, assuming this was the answer. It was a shame he couldn't remember; the mage was conventionally beautiful. 

"I must get going." Jaskier forced a smile. The air felt heavier around him with the tension. "Could one of you be so kind as to point me in the direction of Novigrad?" He looked between the two as he started to back up towards the door. "No? Great..." He gave an awkward chuckle as his hand wrapped around the doorknob. "It was nice to meet you..." 

The man's hand grabbed his arm in a flash. Fear filled the bard. He had the instinct to call for someone, only it felt like their name had been cut from his tongue and stolen from his memory. Instead, he simply just stared. An airy laugh left him from the nerves as he stared into the animalistic eyes. 

"Geralt. My name is Geralt. You know my name." The man named Geralt insisted. 

"Geralt." Jaskier made a mental note of the name. His eyes fell to the tight grip the man had on his arm. "Well, Geralt, it was nice to meet you. I must get going to Novigrad." 

"You know me." Geralt demanded. 

"I don't." Jaskier pleaded as he looked back at those yellowed eyes. "I have no idea who you are to me or to anyone else in this world." 

"Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf of Kaer Morhen. The..." Geralt stammered as he tried to remember all of the names people had bestowed upon him over the years. "The Butcher of Blaviken." The man said the last one with the sting visible on his tongue. "You put me in your ballads. You travelled with me." The Witcher begged the bard to remember. He was terrified of how bad the Maride had hurt his head when it dropped him to make him forget everything. "We faced a djinn- two- together. We saw a gold dragon. Jaskier, remember." 

Jaskier's eyes flashed. A semblance of recognition glinted behind his eyes. Then, a soft blue glow laced over them in a wave, and the flash was gone. "I don't know a Geralt of Rivia." 

Geralt's face fell when he had noticed what he had just witnessed. The glaze of a spell granting a wish. His hand tightened on the bard's arm though it shook. "You wished to forget me, didn't you?"

"What? Ow." Jaskier put his hand on top of Geralt's. "Let me go." 

"Why would you wish to forget me? Did you wish to forget Yen too? Is that why you've been kind to her?" Geralt demanded rather loudly. 

"Her name is Yen?" Jaskier asked, still visibly confused. He tried not to show any of his fear. His legs betrayed him with every new shift. His eyes betrayed him with every glance he shot between the man and the woman. 

"Yennefer of Vengerberg. You know her too. You know the both of us. Yennefer drives you up the wall. She makes you completely mad every time she speaks. You drove Yennefer up the wall every time you would speak. It was how you two survived each other because neither of you wanted to leave my side for some odd reason."

The same realization appeared in Jaskier's eyes before the light blue returned to haze over them again. Jaskier shook his head. "I don't know a Yennefer of Vengerberg." 

"Geralt." Yennefer interrupted. "Perhaps it's for the better. It gets the bard off your hands."

The Witcher ground his teeth. But there was no protest. Slowly, his hand fall from Jaskier's arm. He looked at him with an emotion in his eyes that Jaskier could only describe as sorrow, though he wasn't sure sorrow was the right word. If he had been human, the bard was sure the Witcher's face would have been...anguish. 

Out of fear of the situation, Jaskier gave a quick smile before he pulled open the door. He practically tripped down the steps as he raced away from the door. He raced to his horse and untied it. The bard glanced over his shoulder at the door in fear that Geralt would follow him outside. Carefully, the troubadour mounted the mare and fought to catch his unsteady breath. 

In all of the times he had run from noble men, he had never had a man grab him by the arm like that. He had never had someone insist that he did indeed know them. He never had someone so angry with him but also so hurt. It was odd. Jaskier began to wonder if he really did know them and had just forgotten them. Could they have been from his childhood? It would explain why the man was so hurt. The bard looked back at the house but shook his head. Even if he did know them, he didn't want to put himself back in that uncomfortable situation. 

The bard's attention pulled to the other mare when looked at him. Jaskier paused. He knew that horse. Roach, wasn't that its name? Why couldn't he remember her rider. The chestnut mare looked at the bard intently before to the door. She huffed before looking back at the bard as though she was trying to speak to the man. 

Jaskier bowed his head in a goodbye to the mare before he pulled on the reigns to his own. Truthfully, he didn't know why. Perhaps his mind had gone mad when he was in the house with the man called Geralt and the woman called Yennefer. It wasn't rational to think horses could talk after all. 

He gave a kick to Pegasus's sides and grew into a trot. He rode into town to ask for directions to Novigrad. Luckily, a few men were sober enough to tell him which way to head for the city. It was a few hours ride.