~ The Tangled and Uncertain Relation ~

"I need your help. I have to find a djinn."

"Oh, is that all you need?" Tissaia replies, with no small amount of sarcasm. "You certainly don't ask for much, do you?"

"I have to get rid of this binding if I ever want to find my true soulmate," Yennefer says, indicating her flower crown with a sharp, angry gesture.

Tissaia sighs and distractedly rearranges some papers on her desk.

One of them catches Yennefer's eye, and she picks it up before Tissaia can stop her.

"What's this?" Yennefer asks, one eyebrow raised.

"Something I've already taken care of," Tissaia snaps.

She grabs for the letter, but Yennefer holds it out of her reach. Yennefer drops the paper when it bursts into flames.

"Vesemir... why does that name sound familiar...?" she muses aloud, although she actually has no idea who Vesemir is.

Probably heard Geralt mention him.

The thought is clear as day and does not belong to Yennefer.

Tissaia isn't shielding her mind from her former student as she usually does, also she seems unusually flustered (and not just by Yennefer's request about the djinn), and-

"He's your soulmate," Yennefer concludes triumphantly.

"Stay out of my head!"

"I didn't need to read your mind. You've got a pretty obvious tell... you always touch your crown when you're talking about your soulmate."

"I do not," Tissaia snaps, her cheeks taking a distinct pink tinge as she snatches her hand away from her hair. (She had, indeed, been idly fingering the ivy leaves, as is her apparent habit anytime thoughts of her soulmate cross her mind.)

Yenenfer is able to pluck a few more details about Vesemir's identity (such as what relation Geralt has to the man) from her mentor's mind before Tissaia regains her composure and puts her mental shields back in place.

Stregobor moves aside for no one. Especially not a fluttery little bard who is playing an instrument while he walks and not watching where he's going.

With the bright flashy colors the man is wearing and how much noise he's making, it's a wonder that his presence manages to slip beneath Stregobor's notice until their shoulders are crashing into each other.

Stregobor is solid enough to only stumble a bit, but the bard is knocked on his ass by the impact, his ridiculous puffy pumpkin shorts the only thing saving him from a nasty bruise that would otherwise prevent him from sitting comfortably for a few days.

There is a discordant twang as his instrument shatters.

"My lute," the bard cries.

Stregobor turns on the unfortunate musician and berates him, "That's why you should watch where you're going!"

The bard, still on his ass in the dirt, turns teary eyes up to the mage and whines, "You're the one who ran into me." He sniffles dramatically and gathers the remains of his broken lute into his lap.

When their eyes meet, a large rafflesia flower blooms upon each of their heads, more of a cap than a crown. The bard's silly little hat with its silly peacock feather perches awkwardly on top of the flower.

With a sigh, Stregobor waves his cane and repairs the instrument.

Except he knows nothing about lutes, which he gets an earful about from his soulmate as soon as the bard discovers that even though his instrument appears whole, it is still utterly unplayable thanks to the 'healing' magic that was applied to it.

"I will buy you a new one," the wizard says, not realizing that this is almost as offensive to the bard as anything else he's done to the man in the few moments they've known each other.

Still cradling the wreckage of his lute in one arm, the bard settles his hand lightly in the crook of the wizard's elbow.

"Lead on, then," he says gamely.

"And might I know the name of my soulmate?"

"Valdo Marx."

"Yennefer," Mother Nenneke spits as the sorceress enters Melitele's temple. "How dare you profane this temple with that-"

"I am trying to get it removed!" Yennefer snaps. "I thought maybe someone here would know how to help. Obviously that was expecting too much."

The sorceress turns to leave and as she's on her way out, the priestess tells her, "Jaskier just left here this morning. You're lucky you missed each other."

After a monster hunt which gained them a particularly high yield of monster parts that could be easily sold, Vesemir and Lambert offload their bounty at the nearest large town.

Having no other pressing matters to deal with at the moment, the two of them stay a while and browse the market's offerings.

Lambert frowns as he watches Vesemir pick up and examine several daggers, all of which he seems to judge not good enough.

"Didn't you just get a new dagger recently?"

"That one was a gift from... my soulmate," Vesemir replies. He almost calls Tissaia by name before remembering that Lambert wouldn't know who he is talking about. "I am looking for one to give her in return."

This revelation sends the younger witcher's thoughts into a whirl. Yes, Lambert can understand now why he would judge the perfectly serviceable daggers lacking, if he is looking for one to give as a gift. Although there are no flowers on Vesemir's 'flower crown', Lambert is surprised he never realized that the ivy vine encircling his mentor's brow was the crown that identified him as having found his soulmate.

Lambert has so many questions, but the only thing that makes it out of his mouth is: "Exchanging daggers? Isn't that, like... some ancient courtship ritual?"

"Well, she's older than me."

"She's older than you?!"

"Keep your voice down. People are staring."

The second thing Jaskier notices about Yennefer is that her flower crown is gone. For one horrible moment he thinks that Geralt must be dead and the part of his heart that still hasn't healed venomously whispers Good.

While he is standing there stunned at the vitriol of his own mind, Yennefer makes her way through the crowd to his side.

"Jaskier, come with me!"

She is radiant with joy as she takes him by the hand. Still in shock, he allows himself to be dragged along.

He isn't quite listening as she explains that someone (the name sounds vaguely familiar but his frazzled mind can't quite place it) helped her find another djinn and she got the stupid fucking wish broken and-

"We're almost there."

She's out of breath but grinning as she pushes open the door to a tavern.

The blood drains from Jaskier's face as he sees who Yennefer has brought him here to meet. He fights to free his hand from her grasp, and as soon as she lets go, he turns and flees back into the crowded street.

Geralt stands, the bard's name falling from his lips, but by the time the witcher has taken a single step in his direction, Jaskier is already gone.

Yennefer feels the panicked tug of the bard trying to free his hand from hers and she lets go, assuming he's impatient to rush to his soulmate's side. When she turns to look at him, however, she only catches a brief glimpse of the bard's horrified expression before he disappears into the crowd.

Her gaze swings back to Geralt just as his new crown blooms: white orchid and black dahlia. She doesn't need a mirror to know that hers is the same.

Yennefer had thought she was helping. Helping the fractured pair reunite. They were supposed to be each other's soulmates. She doesn't understand why things turned out this way. Is she really so unlovable that Geralt - he of the false soul-bond - has been judged the person most romantically compatible with her by the goddess Melitele herself?

Geralt's hand on her elbow jolts her out of her thoughts.

"Yen, why would you-"

"Stay away from me," Yennefer snarls, yanking her arm out of his grasp.

She turns away and disappears into the misty forest.

Vesemir kneels and lays his offering on the altar. He speaks to the goddess as if to an old friend.

"It took us a long time to find our way back to each other, but I think you were right. She's the one."

The next time Geralt meets his former soulmate, Jaskier has let his hair grow out nearly to his shoulders, started wearing a ridiculous little hat and dressing even more outrageously than before (which Geralt would not have thought possible), and changed his name to Dandelion.

"Hello again, old friend," Dandelion greets him.

And they continue on. Things are almost the way they were before, and if there is a noticeable absence of certain things between them, they choose to ignore the sense of loss so that they may keep whatever else is left.

~end~