Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jaskier blinked. It was rather strange to return to the music room and find his lute case open. He was certain the ingrained habit would have left it shut, keeping the elven master-crafted instrument protected from the slightest dust molecule in the air.

It was because of living with Ciri that made his approach with such tepid steps. Was this another of the blond girl's pranks? No! Besides, she loved to hear him play in the evening.

Everyone else in the huge keep of Kaer Morhen knew the bard's lute was sacred ground. None would dare tempt Jaskier's sharp-cutting tongue, or worse the wrath of his two overprotective wolves. No person within the keep would wish him or his lute the slightest harm when he bought such sweet music to the old stones.

He crept close enough to see inside, still half expecting a frog to leap out at him, Jaskier blinked once more in surprise.

His beloved instrument was indeed no longer alone. For placed within the silk-lined case top lay sheets of parchment, old looking from the colour and feel when he picked them up.

His vivid blue eyes cast a well-practised look over notes written in a clear hand. The bard read the top sheet of music, clearly meant as a gentle background filler for a banquet or other such stately gathering. Nothing too complex to showcase a musician's skills, just sweet music. The fingers of his free hand, ghosted along with the notes to be played, as Jaskier beheld his unexpected gifts.

However, the sheets below held both a musical score and beautifully crafted words.

An excited "Oh." Left the stunned bard's lips. His face took on a gentle look of understanding.

He was holding a bitter love song crammed full of longing. With this little Jem, he could have any crowd weeping by the second chorus.

Jaskier's mind swiftly pondered which of his two lovers was once more trying to communicate to him through their actions.

Geralt was the most likely candidate, with his world-renowned 'Hum' that could mean anything.

"I hear you, my wolf." He gently breathed into the empty room.

The next set of sheets of words happened to be in a language Jaskier did not recognize, he would need to find a way to get this translated, perhaps a look in the library would help.

He was fascinated by the way the music wove in a manner he had never come across before. Twisting together strong bass' to form a strong core before spreading out into delicate complex weaving tendrils, notes fluttering gently in the air. He could see how the vocals further emphasized the work, and harmonics made him eager to master it.

Perfect for Jaskier to whip out in some pompous prick's court, right after they had belittled the warlord. Smirking. He planned, that this would make a lovely showcase of his and other's true musical talents, for this was no solo project.

Placed the sheets to one side on his desk with almost divine reverence. Later! He promised himself, that he could get to enjoy them at his leisure.

Right now, he had a hall full of witchers to entertain before they got too restless.

Bored witches tended to start a brawl, just because why not?

Smile gracing his lips and a playful bounce to his step, Jaskier left his music room lute in hand.

His mind already plotting how he would deal with his silly, shy lovers. For only one of them could have left him such a glorious treasure, minus any note.

****

Her shoulders drooped in disappointment, and she worried at her lower lip till it became bloody. She had been sure, so sure, to have got it right.

Yes, this time her gift of music, had been gratefully received. She could taste cinnamon as it sunburst in the song masters' aura, tingling a bit on her tongue.

Like the loyal sprite she was, she had stood quietly waiting for his words of thanks. She'd been right by the gaily clad musician's desk when he placed the pages down, clearly in awe. Once more she failed to be acknowledged, the human pet of the leader did not appear to see her.

She had watched him racing away, instrument in hand and a huge grin on his face.

Was she defective in some way since waking up?

Kaer Morhen was still the same, with witches, the reclusive mages and boys training. Yet different. Now flicks of humans walked about the vast halls with no fear. The mages no longer commanded her like she was one of the brain-damaged experiments, nor did they hurt her for their vile sport.

Being ignored was a pain she wished to never have discovered, on top of the gaping void of loss she had recently endured.

With small hands touching the stone walls a reassurance that the keep still knew and accepted her, she moved back to the library, and enforced duty.

If she worked harder.

Yes, she'd seen the trainees combating the mess her beloved domain had become, she bought more books and scrolls, creating an unending tide of work to make them go away, but it was not enough.

She was losing.

Her masters seem to suddenly hate her kind, disregarding the bargain made, back in the days before they broke from the order. She was the oldest and remembered these things. Now, rather than use her skills, they pulled their children away from the vital training needed to become monster hunters.

Perhaps that is why her younger sibling sprites were no more, life forces scattered to the winds, their libraries left abandoned and unattended.