Contrary to what most people could think, his father had always been nicer to him than his mother. With time, he had come to accept that Lady Pankratz only wanted what was best for him, and he could understand her reluctance to his dreams of music and adventure. That didn't change the fact that she had forced him to be something he wasn't during all these horrible years. If there was a chance that someone would get the situation, it would be his father.

"Worry not, Sir." The guard said. "We will bring this man to the dungeon."

Jaskier was ruthlessly grabbed and carried away. He resisted until a guard kicked him in the teeth. Then, everything became blurry. He had a vague knowledge of where he was and what was happening, but some part of him didn't have the energy to react. He could feel his legs trailing on the floor and he could hear crude voices arguing.

Ah, I am being... carried away. I missed... my chance.

He closed his eyes for a second, heard a door being unlocked and he was suddenly launched across the room. He landed on a very hard part of the ground.

Oh, wait. The whole ground is hard. My head hurts.

"And stay there, you scoundrel! If I see you running around the castle again you won't be as lucky."

Jaskier opened his mouth in a silent protest and staggered to lift himself on his hands. His ribs were hurting and his face was a mess of pains. When he managed to sit down he poked at his face slowly to attest the damage. He would have a black eye for sure, and probably some cuts. His lips were fine but his mouth was sore.

He was trying to look around see if there was a cup of water somewhere when he heard a lot of noise coming from the stairs. A few people were hurrying down to the dungeon. He hastily dragged himself further in his cell. He was not in the mood to get another beat down for nothing. There were too many voices speaking at once, but at some point, he heard the rude guard's voice rising above the others.

"There he is, Sir. Here is your thief."

And then, a lot of people came in his visual field at once. First, two guards. One was looking back and one was looking straight at him. The second one was the same character that had hauled him down there. Then, his parents appeared. Both of them. His father was looking through each cell until he saw him. His mother was following him in her nightgown. She seemed tired and scared, but she stayed at her husband's side. Then, two guards were following, closing the march. Jaskier suspected that it was a bit too much, but didn't say anything. Not like he could anyway. Instead, he waited patiently for them to stop in front of his cell.

The guards parted and his father came to him first and oh no. The message hadn't gone through. The Viscount was definitely angry. He had the notebook in his hands and waved it aggressively in front of him.

"You, pesky little burglar. Where did you get that? Answer!"

Jaskier raised an eyebrow. When nobody moved, he tried to get up to grab the notebook, but as soon as he was on his feet -and that the earth has stopped moving-, he saw that the guards had stepped between him and his father.

"What are you doing? Just answer the question!"

Jaskier raised his hands in a peaceful gesture and held one out for his father to give him the notebook. His father didn't understand and withdrew behind his guards.

"You will not get this until you tell me what you want. I was told you try to come to see me this afternoon. And tonight, you broke in our mansion. Were you just trying to give me this notebook? You broke in, yet you didn't try to kill us. Who sent you?"

Since he couldn't have the notebook nor could answer the questions, Jaskier tried gesturing. This seemed to make his parents react favourably. He mimed the action of flipping the pages and raised a single finger. His mother understood and took the notebook to flip the pages. The guards, on the other hand, raised their swords.

"He's a mage! Stay behind us, Sir."

"No," his mother said. "He's not. He's just mute."

Jaskier sighed in relief. The swords were lowered.

He beckoned his mother to turn the pages again, which she did. He saw her read every page -Uh, mom. Stop reading everything. Turn the pages already- until she finally arrived at the last one, and gasped. She showed it to his father, which frowned.

"Julian? Is that really you?" She said.

She came closer and cupped his face in her hands. They were warm, which Jaskier was really grateful for considering how cold his cell was. He let himself be examined by her as she turned his head in all directions. Then, he rested his head on the prison bars with a soft thump. He was tired. It had been a long day.

"Oh, my little king. What did they do to you? Tell me, why are you back? Oh, right. You're mute now. Give me the notebook husband, would you?"

She faced Viscount Pancratz, but was surprised at how cold he seemed. It looked like his father still had doubts about Jaskier's identity.

"Are you here to mock us?" He said. "Julian would never come back. He went to be a bard and to have adventures. He is famous now. Don't you think I know of his whereabouts?"

As much as the comment warmed his heart, Jaskier needed his father to believe him. He pointed to his throat and tried to make a sound but, as always, stayed silent. This wasn't enough for his father. Jaskier frowned and tried to find another solution. His mother suddenly left his side to go whisper something in her husband's ear. The man's eyes widened and he looked back at Jaskier. He shivered under his gaze.

"Undress."

Jaskier recoiled. No way. He took a step back and crossed his arms with a disgusted expression.

"Wait, not like that." His mother said. "Just your top."

Jaskier sighed and made up his mind. They must have their reason for not telling him the truth yet. He took off the torn clothes that he once called shirt and threw it on the side. With his bruises exposed, he felt dangerously small in front of the four guards. His father approached and passed his arm through the gate. He didn't have to say a word for Jaskier to comply and move forward. His father gently took his arm and turned it. Then his expression changed. His mother softly gasped and covered her face with her hand.

"My love..."

Jaskier didn't know if she was talking to him or his father, but when he saw the look on his father's face he knew he wouldn't stay in this dark cell for long. He looked down at his arm and saw what had captured his parent's attention. There was a hidden birthmark inside of his elbow. Jaskier had never really cared about this mark, but he was glad that it was being useful now.

"Julian..." His father whispered. He turned to the guards. "Get him out of this cell, fast! Before you take his place."

A guard opened his door with resignation. Jaskier got out immediately, with a satisfied smile that made the guard squint his eyes at him. His mother jumped at him and he shifted unsteadily. The pain in his ribs had flared up and made him dizzy for a second. Lady Pankratz didn't seem to notice. She released him from her cobra-like embrace and took his hands into hers.

"My little king! Back at last! Oh, how glad I am to see you!"

She hugged him again and this time he winced.

"Now, leave him would you?" His father said with authority. "He must be hurt and tired. Come, Julian. We are going back to your room." He then turned to another guard to ask him to send the healer to his room, and they were gone.

The evening went quite fast after that. Jaskier was led from a room to the other. His mother has started rambling about some events that had happened during his absence, but as the day caught up with him, Jaskier started to feel tiredness settling in his bones. He must have dozed off during his session with the healer because he was awoken rather rudely by said healer asking him to stand up. He was quite grateful to be shaken awake because it meant that the healer had been gentle enough to let him sleep when he was working, and seeing that he was covered almost entirely in bandages, it must not have been a pleasant experience. He found himself being walked to his room, and after his head hit the pillow there was nothing but darkness.

Jaskier decided that waking up was not an experience humans should have. Especially not when they woke up hurt and injured. Yet that was what he found himself doing, in the same room, for the next months to come. Although less hurt than tired after some time.

The first morning, his parents wanted to know everything. He gave them the very eluded version of his breakup and his reason for returning home. This meant lies and omissions. He didn't want to link The White Wolf to him, so he told his parents that he had been wandering around as Dandelion, and that he was happy of what he had. The next month, they were hungry for details on his life. What he did, the songs he wrote and the people he met. Still, Jaskier lied. Of course, their opinion was different on what good company meant, but Jaskier was perfectly capable of keeping his opinions for himself and giving his parents what they wanted. It was particularly easy since he couldn't speak and blow his cover. They spend the rest of the year in a comfortable house life that, if Jaskier was honest with himself, he had rather missed while he was on the roads. The hot baths and the fine clothing was a nice change of pace.

Yet, after a few months of this treatment, he found himself already longing for fresh air and a change of pace. The royal life never suited him. It was the reason why he left in the first place. He didn't like that Christina had to bow to him and wasn't allowed to speak to him. He would have loved to catch up with her, to ask her how her daughter was, or if his parents were treating her well. He needed more entertainment. The castle was silent and boring.

His mornings were spent in the living room with his parents. They generally received people who were asking them for help. His father was like a little king, analyzing them and deciding of their fate. That was how Jaskier knew that he would never be a great king. He would always give the money to everyone that came to visit. In the afternoons, he would be left alone, when his mother was not dragging him here and there to various lessons and shows. Jaskier learned how to escape without too long.

He spent his days here and there, mostly writing. Since he couldn't sing, he had decided that he would write. Maybe some other new talent could pick up his songs and sing them for him. None of his parents asked about that, and he was more than happy to have something for himself.

He was used to be silent now, even if that still bothered him. He liked having fun, being loud, having all eyes on him and spending evenings complementing –and more- a multitude of women. Of course, being the son of a viscount, he could still have them all. It just... It wasn't the same now. He couldn't see the way they would redden or roll their eyes at him. They just came for the money, there was no point.

He missed singing... and Geralt.

Of course, life didn't have any concept about irony and for once, it decided to give Jaskier what he was asking for.

It all came down a day that looked like the others. It always does.