Where I Stand

The Lambert Paradox

A sharp knock at the door startles him out of his reading. Aiden moves in a flash and tucks Lambert's journal back into the shelf just in time for a melodic voice to call, "Aiden? May I come in?"

He opens his mouth to respond, but his visitor opens the door anyway and pokes their head inside. It's the same person as before-- the faerie-- except now he looks more like a man. His blue tinted flesh and horns have been traded out for chestnut hair and rosy cheeks dotted with freckles. The man smiles sunnily at him and slips into the room, closing the door behind him with a click.

"Sorry to bother you," the man says, "But I was wondering if we might speak briefly."

Aiden stares blankly at him, caught a little off guard by his visitor's demeanor. He can count the times that others approached him so politely on less than ten fingers. Usually it's with fear or malice-- even by other witchers. But this faerie carries himself with a calming and cheery presence that's off in a way Aiden can't place.

"Uhh, sure," he says carefully.

At that, the man's face lights up even more. "Excellent. Now, I believe I never had the chance to introduce myself earlier. I am Jaskier; bard extraordinaire, former viscount, and current prince of the seelie court-- but just Jaskier is fine. My titles don't matter much here."

"Aiden. But you already knew that."

Jaskier gives him a sad smile. "Indeed I did, my friend. I've waited a long time to meet you officially." Aiden raises an eyebrow at that.

"Lambert spoke of me that often?"

The bard breathes a laugh. "Gods, no. But I am very observant. One has to be when surrounded by witchers who's primary form of communication is grunting and the word 'fuck.'"

Aiden hums in agreement. Sounds about right.

"Now, in regard to what I would like to speak with you about, I thought I could offer you my assistance."

"Assistance with my memory?"

"Perhaps at some point," Jaskier replies, "But no. Lambert told me that you might have...difficulty growing accustomed to the changes in your appearance. He asked that I provide you with a glamour, should you want one, as well as share my own experience being in your shoes."

Aiden's hand instinctively goes to his eye. "You could-- you could do that?"

The faerie nods. "I could. But..."

"It wouldn't be real." Aiden's hands clench at his sides. He's avoided looking fully in the mirror thus far, the only indication of his appearance being glimpses he caught in the hand mirror and what he can physically see. It had been something he'd taken pride in before. Despite being a witcher Aiden was confident in his looks, he kept his hair well cared for, was extra careful to prevent scarring from the wounds he sustained-- he was handsome. And now he's--

"How much would you change?"

"As much or as little as you want."

Aiden swallows, turning the idea in his head. He could fix all of this, pretend like it never happened and start over. But even if he looked normal, things would still be different. All the glamour in the world can't replace his missing eye.

"You don't have to decide right away," Jaskier says gently. "You have all season to think about it. Though I would still caution you, In my own experience, I've found it better to accept all parts of myself, even the ones I dislike." He takes a deep breath and Aiden watches enamoured as Jaskier's form begins to shift before his eyes until he has taken on the appearance from before.