A monster had been ravaging the crops recently. His parents had sent a note to hire a witcher and of course, no one told Jaskier. It would have seemed to be the most logical option, especially since he had spent half of his life at a witcher's side. How he could be kept in the dark about those things was above him. So, this morning, he sat with his parents as usual, and they started chatting as usual. He paid no mind to them. He was daydreaming about his last song and trying to forget he would spend the rest of his life like this when a word caught his interest.

"I hope this witcher will be there soon. The monster ought to be taken care of as fast as possible."

Jaskier whipped his head in his parent's direction. Did they really say what he thought they did?

"Oh, Julian." His father had picked up on his interest and was watching him now. "Did you hear about witchers while you were on the roads? They became very popular recently, and we have a problem to be taken care of by one of them."

Jaskier felt panic rising in his chest, forcing him to stand straight. His father misunderstood his expression and thought it as a sign of interest.

"Yes, remember how we talked about this monster destroying our farms? Well, it was high time we took auction. I posted a reward for its head, and a witcher answered. He should arrive at any time now."

Fine. He was fine. His father had said "a witcher" and not "Geralt" or "The Butcher" or "The White Wolf". It could be any witcher. Granted, he hadn't seen a lot of them when he was on the roads. Plus, his parents didn't know about him. They would never hire Geralt just to surprise him. They would never hide any info on the White Wolf if it was him, right? I mean... They would probably pummel him with the reasons why having powerful relations was important... Right?!

At this moment, the door opened. A figure appeared. It was a witcher. Jaskier's heart stopped.

Or not.

A strange feeling of magic passing through him made him shiver. He was unable to tear his gaze away from the witcher that just entered. The man at the door has cut his hair and, if it is even possible, seemed gruffer than when Jaskier left him on that damn mountain. Yes, there was no mistaking it, it was Geralt in front of him. They looked at each other for a while. The tension between them was to cut with a knife.

Jaskier didn't know if the witcher recognized him or not. At some point in his life, he was able to tell the difference between each of Geralt's stares. Now though, he couldn't say. His mind still has this made-up graph that can tell him if Geralt is annoyed, surprised or pleased, but Geralt's moods also depend entirely on his affiliation with the person. And of course, their relationship is awkward at best, murderous at worse. It's been a few years, and Jaskier doesn't even know if Geralt recognised him. Maybe he was staring because he was annoyed by the stench of his fright. Jaskier knew he could smell stuff like that.

The worst, he could easily say, the absolute worst in this encounter, was that now that he was somehow over Geralt's theatrical entrance, he could feel it. There was no denying it. His voice was back.

Why now? He had merely looked at Geralt, it was not like he had accepted to follow him again. What did the curse say? Something like "follow the witcher again"? Had he misinterpreted it all along?

His father, oblivious of the whole situation, started speaking to the witcher.

"Ah! Sir witcher! Come, if you please. We were talking about you"

Geralt walked up to them. His eyes never left Jaskier. He remained stonily indifferent, which encouraged Jaskier to recompose himself and to straighten in his chair. Jaskier gulped once, making a small inconspicuous sound at the back of his throat that even the witcher couldn't hear.

He had so many thoughts swirling in his head that he was surprised no one caught on what was happening. He was torn between the return of his voice and his old frie... acquaintance who was still watching him. Geralt approached until he faced his father.

This is the worse. Stuck between my parents and a witcher I hadn't seen in years.

He knew he couldn't randomly start screaming at Geralt because that was just not possible. For some reason, his parents hadn't recognized Geralt. Maybe they took less interest in his stories than what he gave them credit for.

"What does it looks like?" Geralt asked.

"The usual folklore. Tall, red skin. Veiny like an old prune. Big teeth. Blood-curdling scream. I don't know if you'll get much out of this, the farmers were pretty shaken by the countless death of their comrades. It is more than possible that they made up a lot to cover up for their ineffectiveness"

"Rmmm..."

There was silence. Then he father coughed conspicuously.

"Sir Witcher? Do you have more questions?"

"Hmmmm... Yes. Where did it... come from?"

Jaskier was not sure what to get out of their conversation. He had never seen the witcher so distracted before. He would have laughed at the situation if he hadn't been so tensed by the return of his voice. Geralt was stammering like a witcher on his first hunt.

Jaskier struggled to keep in place. Now that he had his voice back he felt the tug of songs and adventures once more. Who cared about seeing Geralt again? He had his voice back! The witcher could behave as weirdly as he wanted, he couldn't care less. He could... travel again! And... take up music again –how he missed his dear lute- and sing sappy love songs at the edge of the world if he wanted.

That... That would be fantastic. A life worth having.

He wasn't even listening to the conversation anymore. He had vaguely heard the witcher detailing was he was going to do and his parents humming along. He was too focused on those feelings that were waking up and shaking his core. His fingers were numb and the room was starting to spin, as the reality of the facts settled in. He had lived for so long without sound that the realization of this miracle hadn't hit him fully yet. But his voice was back, it was really back! There was something finally right in his throat, the obstruction that he had grown accustomed to was missing. He felt lighter than a feather. Jaskier closed his eyes, effectively shielding the remnants of conversations from his senses.

He basked in this feeling for as long as he could. He didn't dare to move. Just staying there and letting the feelings wash over him was enough. He was already dreaming of his life on the roads again, the girls, the fame... He would have to buy a new luth, though. No luth would compare to Filavandrel's, but it would be enough for him. Being able to follow his will and sing all the songs he had created...

"Julian?"

He was awoken by a worried whisper and a shake of his shoulder. He turned around, only to see his mother with a concerned look on her face. Father and Geralt had stopped talking to look at them.

"Are you not feeling well?"

He realized he might have looked quite dumb with his eyes closed and his mind elsewhere. He took the opportunity that his mother gave him and shook his head 'no'. Then, without waiting for her to say anything, he got up and made his way out of the room.

"Please excuse us." Jaskier heard his father say. "Our son's behavior was terribly rude. I think he never met one of yours before, and he must be pretty terrified."

"Hmf."

"Now, where were we? I believe we ought to talk about the reward."

He could hear the conversation going on, but he couldn't get himself to care. He had to get away for a while and be alone with himself.

What he didn't feel before was the need to sing. It was slowly creeping up on him, putting a smile on his face as he whispered arpeggios to himself. He had closed his heart to music for far too long. There were melodies at the tip of his tongue that just needed to get out.

As he walked through the corridors, he felt more and more confident, singing a note here and there. The smile was blossoming on his face. He was making his way to the balcony at the back, where no one ever came. He guessed his parents didn't even know about this place. Jaskier had stumbled upon it during one of his wanderings. It was the perfect place to brood and to get lost in his thoughts. No one would hear him there.

But he didn't get far. He got out of the room and long before he could reach the balcony, the heavy feeling came back. The heavy stone settled once again on his lungs, and Jaskier was breathless.

He opened his mouth to nothing.

No.

He tried again.

NO!

Jaskier clawed at his throat but still nothing.

Anger and desperation flowed through him.

Impossible! He had waited for so long and now...? What was he supposed to do, what was that supposed to mean? Was it just a taste of what his life could be with Geralt? Was this relief supposed to torment him?

It was even worse than not getting his voice back at all.

Was the universe taunting him? Was it a stroke of Destiny? Was he actually supposed to follow Geralt forever like a lost dog for the sole purpose of speaking?!

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. His mind swirled up with too many thoughts and not enough answers. He stayed on his balcony until nightfall.