Jaskier stiffens under the seelie queen's touch, head shaking as he backs away. Geralt's grip on his hand tightens and he is instantly grateful for the witcher's presence.
"How do you know my mother's name?"
A sudden hush falls over the room followed by a chorus of whispers.
The queen stares at him, face pale, but makes no move to prevent his retreat. Her expression is one that Jaskier can't quite decipher.
"Alva is your mother?" she asks softly.
Jaskier nods and something in her face breaks.
"Tell me," she says, "what is your name, child?"
"Jaskier," Jaskier replies, then remembers why he's here and quickly adds, "your majesty."
"Jaskier..." The queen repeats, saying his name like she's turning it over in her head. "Alva is my daughter."
No. It can't be. He would know if that was the case, right? But the way she looks at him, with such certainty...
Jaskier stills, feeling like someone's punched him in the gut. "Then I'm..."
"My grandson," the queen finishes, voice full of awe.
At his side he feels Geralt go very still.
The queen grabs Jaskier's free hand, raising it alongside her own and turns to the faeries gathered around them. "Faeries of the court," she announces, voice echoing through the room, "my grandson has returned to us! I present to you, Alva's lost child, crown prince of the Seelie Court and sole heir to the throne!"
Jaskier's head spins. Everything around him seems to move in slow motion as he watches the hundreds of faeries-- ones who had been sneering as he passed just minutes before, drop to their knees one by one, a collective murmuring of "my prince" sweeping through the crowd.
He can't breathe. Everything is too much-- the stares, the noise, the whole room is spinning. He hears Geralt's voice coming from somewhere beside him, the witcher saying his name with concern, but it seems far away.
Suddenly he finds himself on the floor. Then everything goes black.
---------------------------
When Jaskier wakes up he finds himself in a room he's never seen before with a splitting headache.
It looks like some kind of lounge or tearoom, with ornate upholstered chairs and sofas accompanied by carved tea tables and a line of shelves against the far wall. The dull glow of moonlight streams into the room through a skylight in the domed ceiling, the circular window taking the place of the sun in a detailed mural painted against the stone.
"For the last time, no, you can't come see him."
Jaskier looks to the door that's left slightly ajar. Geralt's voice is coming from the hallway, sounding tired and vaguely annoyed. He's arguing with someone, but the voice of the second person is too muffled for Jaskier to make out.
"I don't care that she's the queen," Geralt growls. "She can wait. You saw what happened, he's exhausted and needs to rest. I will tell her when she can come in."
There's the dull thud of footsteps retreating on carpet, then Geralt is slipping back into the room and closing the door behind him. Amber eyes fall on him immediately. "Jask, you're up."
"Apparently," Jaskier croaks, running his hand over the swollen lump on his head and wincing. "Where are we? What happened?"
"You passed out and hit your head," Geralt tells him. "The queen had you sent here." Jaskier notices he's choosing his words very carefully when he mentions the queen, as if he's afraid to remind Jaskier of the events in the throne room. "This was the closest room with somewhere for you to lie down. You've been out for about four hours."

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Try, Please Try For Me
FanfictionJaskier was part fae. A quarter to be precise. There was an old superstition among humans that names held power, but for fae it was so much more than that. Names meant control. If you knew a fae's name, their true name, they would be completely...