SOMETIMES, SABLE REGRETS HER CHOICE OF TURNING DOWN ESKELL. Despite the fact that it's been pretty much sealed in whatever curse he had placed on her that they won't be more than friends, some part of her thought of the lavish life in comfort she could've lived. She smacked that part, considering it had been happening when she went to Court anyway. Any of those men (and women) would have tripped over their boots to spend a night with her at any point. Eskell had just been the one to seduce her with red satin, good wine, and honeyed laughter.

Her short stop in Oxenfurt had been a vital one. Eskell had smiled, happy, drunk, over wine and cheese as she recounted her stories from her trips to him, Scoundrel being thoroughly pet. From the stories she saw in the cracks of mountain rock faces, to laying in fields and cloud watching for hours, Sable felt free. And, so what if she left out the part about Geralt and the cockatrice, had changed out of Geralt's threadbare shirt and stuffed it at the bottom of her pack. Sable hadn't wanted to push this still somewhat delicate relationship they had, even if they were mostly normal again. She didn't want to hurt his feelings like she had, even if she doubted she'd ever see Geralt again.

But, the stop hadn't been just about catching up with Eskell. Sable had been low on supplies and there was a hole in her left boot that she needed to get fixed, if she could. It had been one of her first stops, and Eskell had instructed in a letter to send the bill to him when she got to town. (Lavish and comfortable, that part of her reiterated. Sable had just ignored it.)

So, when she had gotten her new boots, food that kept well on the road, a water skin, a wine skin, and a big goodbye hug from Eskell, Sable had set out again, map in her hand. She had learned to read it while on the road, because there was a time when she had just walked in circles and that had made her cry as she set up her camp in the woods that looked the same. A depraved feeling had come over her as she struggled the same way the day after, finally getting out of it by the dusk. After that, she had purchased a map and sat down in the lowlight of a small town tavern to figure out how to read it.

Now, she has towns circled that she'd like to head back to, towns crossed out that she wouldn't visit again, and she stared at it as she walked out of Oxenfurt, deciding if she should go North, or head West. While Sable has always wanted to head North to try the food, wine, and ale around that area, going West means she could go back to a pool of crystal clear water and have a soak while the weather was still nice. She caught herself from thinking about where Geralt might be. There was a whole continent full of monsters that he would most-likely be paid to kill, he could be anywhere. So, Sable knocked the thoughts from her head, fixed her shirt, her fingers skimming over the scars that had raised pink despite Geralt telling her they wouldn't, and tucked her map back into her bag. There wasn't a decision to be made until a couple days into her journey, at least.

There was something about nature that Sable thought was relaxing. She had always had such thoughts, even when she was with her siblings on their plot of land, surrounded by the forest and playing hide and seek. Even when she had been older, watcher her brothers and father head off to the mines near her village, she would indulge in her little siblings antics, chasing them around the forest in a game of hide and seek or pretending to be the big bad wolf. It had mostly been to keep them out of their mother's skirts as she did the housework. And, they would all tend to the garden when their mother called to them. Sable smiles fondly as she remembers scrubbing the dirt stains out of her skirts from kneeling to pull weeds.

The Baron and Baroness had let her garden when they had carriaged her away to be in Court with them, and Sable remembered spending hours in their massive plot, helping the gardener pull weeds and sitting out there between the etiquette lessons. The van Alstynes had changed her life for the better, but she had remembered being so homesick she had almost ran back home, not caring if she hadn't known the way. It wasn't until they had saw her souring mood and taken Sable to visit her family on one of the days she had known they would all be home that she had felt better. They had even brought them a pig for slaughter that would feed her family well for a couple of weeks.

Sable had always loved the sun on her face and shoulders, loved watching the fire lick and cook food as it hung over in the cooling night, always enjoyed playing in the dark woods with the siblings that could stay up late. She remembers watching her mother and father give subtle, warming affections to each other next to the fire, her father wrapping his coat over her mother's already shawl-covered shoulders. Watched her smitten brother spend an hour trying to find a flower for the neighbour he was trying to woo. Laughed as she took a purposeful tumble down the hill that led to the creek with her little sister in her arms, landing harder than usual to make a bigger splash.

Homesickness wrapped its old, familiar arms around Sable's shoulders and had her pulling out her map again to see how far it would be to travel home before going on the rest of her journey. She had been visiting throughout the years, still, was glad to see her aging parents taken care of, see her eldest brother married and his wife with child, still spending time to find the right flower to convey his emotions. Her other siblings were growing up too, but always got excited to see her, and would fill her in on their lives. Her other older brother trying to woo a girl but ignoring all the advice of the only other married one, her little sister pouring over books and trying to suck up as much knowledge as she can while keeping the little ones distracted and out of their mother's skirts.

Lost in thought, in melancholy memories while trying to find the quickest route to her family home, Sable kept on walking. Her new boots did their job, the soles on her feet not even hurting over the rough terrain of the path as she walked. Maybe she had been a little too focused on her map, or just not paying enough attention to the road, but Sable had not been looking where she was going. She slammed into something, her map crinkling upon impact, and there was a very obvious screech from the body she had knocked down as it scrambled to keep its footing.

Sable lowered her map to look at what she had hit and was met with the vision of a man on the ground, his big blue eyes staring up at her in offence. They blinked at each other, the man still dramatically spread out on the ground, his hands dirty, his lute on the ground intact and laying off to the side, and his knees dirty. Sable looked around, wondering why she hadn't even noticed him, before tucking her slightly wrinkly map in her bag again and offering a hand to help him up. "Sorry."

He was still gawking-glaring at her. Sable gave him an awkward smile as she waited for him to reach for the hand that was hovering in the air between them. She could already tell that this ... boy was a dramatic one. The more she looked at him, the more Sable was realising he was younger than she had originally thought. His mousy brown hair, his big blue eyes, the round cheeks, the lanky movement of tall limbs, this boy was probably just coming into age. And a bard, at that, dressed in finer clothes that Sable had seen around the Chateau Eskell hangs around sometimes, this boy was probably from the Academy in Oxenfurt. Probably looking to make a name for himself on the open road, singing tales and finding muses.

Finally, he reached for Sable's hand and she helped get him to his feet. He was taller than her, held himself with the same type of confidence she had seen many bards have while playing at Court. He fit in with that, Sable thought, as she brushed some of the dirt off of his fine doublet, thinking about how the darker shade of orange suited him well.

"Sorry, again," Sable told him, smiling sheepishly as she went to grab his lute. She held it out to him delicately, checking it to make sure there wasn't any damage done to it. It didn't look like it to her, but she's sure the bard would definitely have a look over it himself. She watched him grab it, do his own inspection, then let out a relieved breath through his mouth. Sable was glad for it, gave him a smile, and then, now curious, asked, "What are you doing on the road by yourself? It's dangerous."

He made a face at her, "You're by yourself." There wasn't a way to say that she was cursed and connected to a powerful sorcerer so even if she was attacked by thugs, she probably wasn't going to die. "But, if you must know, I'm searching for my muse. Something that will get my creative juices flowing with lyrics that will outlive all of us by a hundred years!"

Sable found herself nodding. Bards were dramatic like this, she knew, from the one time the lord she had been with in Court had invited one to bed. That one had waxed poems about the lord's feet and Sable had gone to get a drink when they got to the arch of the foot. The one standing in front of her, though, had a look to him that she almost believed him. She'd have to hear how well he could sing. He'd be something she would have to look for when she'd get back to Court.

"Why don't you head back to Oxenfurt and then maybe find a group looking for entertainment to travel with," Sable found herself saying with a gentle smile. This kid was an easy target if she had ever seen one. He looked a little dumbfounded at the suggestion though, as Sable stepped around him to continue on her own path. It was a fairly well trodden road, someone would hopefully pass by him soon and tell him something of the same. Sable honestly was suggesting it only because she wanted the kid to stay safe.

When she was maybe five feet away, she heard the shifting of soil and the kid was right next to her in what was probably three strides of his long legs, "What about you? You're a petite maiden travelling on her own. What makes you any different than I?"

Sable felt herself snort, "You're not a maiden, for one," she continued walking, the bard keeping in step with her, "And I've been travelling on my own for some time and know how to take care of myself. You're like a fawn, darling."

The bard made an offended noise, and the two didn't talk for a long while. And that's when Sable realized that they had been walking together for some time. The bard had even gotten comfortable to start strumming on his lute and humming, his blue eyes darting over to Sable every once in a while. She knew what he had done, wormed his way into walking with her so she wouldn't send him back. As much as she hated to admit it, even when she liked the non-silence of the forest to listen to, the bard wasn't half bad.

She bumped shoulders with him, "what's your name, then?"

His whole face lit up, and something inside Sable wanted to take him out to play hide and seek, scrape some of her food off of her plate to his when he complained he was hungry, and push him into a riverbank then jump in after him. Something told her he didn't get things like this. Not easily. And a part of her wanted to change that.

"Jaskier," he coughed, "I go by Jaskier."

"Buttercup, I like it," Sable told him, smiling. She looked at the world around them, taking in the tranquillity that had fallen over the part of the forest they were walking through. She wanted him to break it, "Play me a song, would you? Something classic, that you would play to entertain a court?"

Jaskier gave her a look, thought for a second, biting his lip, then picked up a melody. He was good. His voice had a nice timbre to it, and he was an excellent lute player. She's sure, if he had found his muse, he would write ballads that would tell of their beauty, immortalise them in a lyric that would make them feel important, in a way that would make women swoon and men quote to their own lovers. Sable found herself humming, then singing, softly along, letting Jaskier's voice outshine the quiet of the world, but finding immeasurable comfort in it.

It took her back to Eskell with his arm around her, laughing quietly at one of the Lords that had made a fool of himself, sharing wine stained kisses and feeling safe in the shared affection. Jaskier, she suddenly knew, would be very important to her. As she watched him, strumming the right cords on the lute, listening to the ebb and flow of the lyrics as his voice navigated through the high and low parts of the song, she wondered if the curse allowed for familial love. Her hand came up to rub the mark through her shirt, suddenly hot with phantom pain as she thought of it.

Even if it didn't, Sable knew she would care for Jaskier. And, as they continued the trek down the dirt path together, neither breaking stride, she was glad for it. The road was awfully lonely, after all, and Jaskier had a big presence and a bigger voice. She doubted she would be lonely anymore. 

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hi. so. this is a shorter chapter, and i hope jaskier is in character. i had most of a chapter written for SO LONG but it didn't feel right and i didn't know how to finish it, so i rewrote the whole thing. this is that. hopefully, it won't take me a lot of time to update again because this fic does live rent free in my mind. 

there will be a time skip next chapter. geralt is coming back into play, though he'll be more towards the middle or end, if how i'm thinking i'll write it right now. 

you guys are lovely, thank you for the continued support. 

this fic, if it gets written, will continue into season two for sure, but we'll see about season three. i am still mad over the henry cavill thing. 

hope you all have a good day, i have to get ready for work after i post this.