I had a thought of Jaskier singing Her Sweet Kiss as he walks back down the mountain, and Yennefer catching him. This sad thing spawned.
The song ends, and Jaskier realizes how tense he had gotten through out. He inhales deeply and let's his shoulders fall.
"That's about me, isn't it." Yennefer asks, suddenly in front of him when he could have sworn she was asleep in her tent. There are tears in her eyes. Its a hollow vindication.
"Yes." He says. Why hide it?
She sits down heavily next to him. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry."
"For him not loving you."
There's an uncomfortable silence. "Oh. Right." Jaskier nods, then forces a smile. "No sense in that. Not your fault you're irresistible to him." He stares out over the mountain. "Or anyone, really."
"Anyone?" Yennefer questions. She's looking at him now, he can feel it.
"You don't want me, witch." There's no bite in his words.
She turns his head to face her with a finger under his chin. They lock eyes. "Nor do you, me." She agrees.
When they kiss, it's slow and bitter. Mutual heartbreak pours off their tongues as they pull each other closer, both wishing another was in their place.
When they part, Yen uses a hand on the back of Jaskier's head to keep them pressed together. "Share my bed tonight, bard." She requests. Its strange to ask and not command. "Let's forget about him, together."
Jaskier nods for fear his voice would break. Hand in hand, they move from under the moonlight into the tent.
Hours later, on the edge of the clearing, a figure steps from the shadows. White hair frames the shadow of a man, hesitating. Golden eyes peak through the flap then widen in surprise. As quick as he appeared, he's gone.
Jaskier and Yennefer, both fully clothed, sleep soundly on.