#But I've never drawn any of them and I couldn't find any agreed-upon references so I opted for He Alone

[crimsonrae]

Across the Road, At the Brothel

Chapter Ten

Summary: Jaskier fell in love any day that the sun rose in the East. It was a trifling, pleasurable experience for him. Even when he was jumping out a window to avoid cuckolded husbands. So what happens when his trifles start to become more significant? Jaskier/OC. Some Yennefer/Geralt

A/N: Jaskier is just too adorable not to write about. This is a relationship development story with an OC. There will be smut in later chapters and plenty of angst.

Rating: Mature

Simple and Complex

"Twas early one morning a fair maid arose,

And slipped away with her lover's clothes,

And off to the fields a sure she goes

With naught e'na kiss in the morning early."

An unwilling smile pulled at Lyrra's lips as she smothered a sigh and attempted to pay her bard no mind. She finished hanging a few freshly laundered shirts and trousers as she listened to his approach. She had slipped out of her cottage long before Jaskier had woken. A basket of laundry in hand as she went to the stream – Geralt had roused enough from his place by her hearth to note her exit but seemed incline to rest longer himself. She was grateful for the solitude. It gave her a chance to gather her thoughts and calm the whirlwind that Jaskier had incited in her. She needed the distance and the time to figure out -

"Are you really just going to ignore me?"

Him.

Lyrra glanced around the shirt she was pinning up with a raised brow to see him standing proudly with his hands on his hips, "Did you say something?"

Jaskier narrowed his gaze at her in an odd mix of exasperation and amusement, "Lyrra."

"Jaskier." She intoned and bit back a smirk as he huffed.

A sly glint entered his eyes as he began to sing again.

"The bard arose and he discovered her sin,

His heart and his song composed quite the din."

Lyrra could not help the faint laugh that left her as she listened to him. Puckish amusement danced in his blue orbs as he sidled up next to her and slid an arm around her waist.

"And he had the will for to greet her so slim

With a kiss in the morning early."

She didn't need the last line of his song to see the kiss coming. A quiet sigh left her as she welcomed his familiar embrace. Her skin still tingled with the memory of their coupling and the calm she had achieved was swiftly thwarted by his touch. Reluctantly, she pulled away.

Jaskier smiled contentedly at her, "Good morning."

"It's afternoon, you slept the morning away." Lyrra replied lightly as she moved her basket under the tree her clothesline was tethered on, "And I'm rather sure those aren't the words to that song."

"Ehh, I'm a bard, pretty much gives me free rein to change the words." Jaskier shrugged. His keen eyes cataloged her every move, "You should've slept the morning away too. You were up as long as I was."

As if to prove his point, Lyrra found herself swallowing a yawn. In all actuality, she had been up longer than he had. Her mind had not been able to let the events of the night settle and her dreams had taken a dark turn once she had drifted off. She still wasn't sure what had come over her in that bathing chamber, she was never that bold. Yet, bold was the only way to describe her actions from the time he entered until...well. A blush rose to her cheeks and she could see a salacious grin crossing Jaskier's lips from her periphery at the sight. He knew well where her mind had gone.

"Stop it." She murmured lowly, refusing to look in his direction.

"Stop what?" His tone dripped with quiet laughter.

"You know what." She glowered faintly at him and wished that she still had a few shirts to pin to the line, if only to have something to do besides stare at him.

He tilted his head and his mirthful smile continued to tease her as he said, "You are adorably shy in the light of day. I do hope that I never make you stop blushing."

It was her turn to huff, "Jaskier."

He chuckled quietly and reached for her again, "Now what happened to the woman who had her wicked way with me last night, hmm?"

Lyrra was sure her face was scarlet now at his words as she allowed him to draw her close again, "She came to her senses."

"That sounds...not good." Jaskier murmured as he tilted her chin up and frowned bemusedly at her, "I suppose it's time we actually have that talk."

Lyrra shifted awkwardly under his gaze as she ruefully wondered which talk he was referring to, their tryst or her back. Neither was a conversation she particularly wanted to have, if for completely different reasons. She had been grateful when the topic had fallen to the wayside upon returning to her cottage.

She forced a smile when she realized she was taking too long to respond, "That talk."

"Yes, the one you've been trying to figure out how to avoid since I brought it up last night." Jaskier uttered faintly amused as she looked away somewhat sheepishly and bit back a sigh, "Believe it or not, not a conversation I want to have either, but as fun, as our little dance has been... we do need to -"

He waved his hand about as he tried to find the right words. Lyrra took pity on him as her smile turned a little more genuine, "Clear the air? Create some boundaries? Form an understanding?"

Jaskier nodded, "Yes, that. That would be good."

Lyrra stifled a giggle as she saw her nerves reflected in his expression. It amazed her how he could go from unerringly confident to uncertain in a matter of seconds, especially around her. She was not someone to be nervous around. Her fingers itched with the need to touch him, reassure him. The impulse to soothe his quiet anxiety was strong and unexpected. She wasn't a tactile person by any means, she usually went out of her way to avoid being touched. Jaskier was her opposite in this manner, he felt everything, like an overgrown toddler. He picked up, played, listened, and sometimes tasted everything with which he came into contact. He took comfort in touch, she knew this implicitly.

As if to prove her unspoken point, he seemed to sense her reluctance and reached out to caress her cheek, "What is it? Talk to me."

"It's nothing – I just...I tend to get carried away with you."

Jaskier raised a brow as he prodded her to continue, "And that's a bad thing?"

"It's not like me." She mumbled quietly and resisted the urge to fidget. She didn't know how to explain to him the maelstrom he made her feel. How she found him both comforting and disconcerting. How she allowed him more liberties than anyone since...since ever.

"Again, that's a bad thing?" He was more curious now than concerned. Jaskier had been far from surprised when he had woken to find her gone... simply disappointed. He was quickly beginning to learn that avoidance was his lover's instinctual response to anything that made her -

"It's an uncomfortable thing." Lyrra grimaced.

Uncomfortable. He smiled gently at her, at least she was somewhat aware of her tendencies, "You know, I typically don't do serious."

Lyrra blinked at the strange segue, "Really? Hadn't noticed."

He bit back a laugh at her dry tone as he made his point, "Serious is complicated and boring and messy. I like easy and fun, simple... but you, my lovely Lyrra, you are very complicated and serious. But I can say with absolute certainty you are not boring. You make me curious."

She merely stared at him still unsure where he was going with his little lecture.

"Curious. Confused. Uncomfortable." Jaskier answered placing a special emphasis on that last word, "No, strike that – you don't make me uncomfortable; you make me uncertain. None of that is necessarily a bad thing, you know?"

"Hasn't been my experience." Lyrra replied softly.

"No, I suppose it hasn't." His fingers brushed across her back and the brand he now knew rested there and she tensed at the reminder, "I don't think that I make you uncomfortable, either. I think it's that you enjoy yourself with me that discomfits you. Tell me you didn't enjoy yourself last night."

Her cheeks burned and she couldn't meet his eyes as she fumbled for a response, "I... you know, I did."

"Do you want to do it again?" He asked quietly and linked his fingers with hers.

Lyrra felt her stomach flutter at the question as she tried vainly to ignore the heat that rushed through her veins, "...yes."

"So do I." He murmured softly and unconsciously leaned into her, "Is that really so unsettling?"

Her grey eyes were drawn to his lips, "...yes. You unsettle me, Jaskier."

"How?"

"I crave you. I've known you barely a fortnight." Lyrra whispered, not missing the desirous look that entered his eyes at her words, "And I crave your kisses and your touch... even your voice. I don't crave people. I don't know what to do with you."

"I think you know exactly what to do with me." He couldn't help the tease that left his tongue even as she hit his arm, "Ow."

Vaguely annoyed, she attempted to pull away from him again, but he refused to let her step back. "Alright, okay. I'm sorry. I don't do serious, remember? It's just... this doesn't have to be hard, it can be simple."

Lyrra sighed frustrated, "Nothing about this is simple."

"Only because you're making it complicated." Jaskier pointed out somewhat humorously, "We already agreed to not get married and after last night, I think we're agreed we can't be merely friends. Especially, since we both admitted we want a repeat..." His words slowly caught up with him and he offered her an acknowledging nod, "Right, we may be a little complicated."

Lyrra snorted and shook her head at him. He was utterly ridiculous and she adored it despite herself, "Let me make this simple. I like you, Jaskier. That's simple. You like me back, that's simple too. Last night was great and yes, I want it to happen again, but I'm not sure that it should."

"Why?" He breathed the questioned startled.

The possibility of them not continuing their affair had not occurred to the bard, she could see that plainly and sighed again, "In a day, a week, sometime rather soon you're going to be gone, Jaskier... And I don't - I don't want to miss you."

He looked like he had been struck and Lyrra tried not to wince under his stare or to follow after him when he stepped away. She felt cold at his abrupt distance. Perhaps, she had worded that too harshly. Guilt twisted in her gut as she silently pleaded with him to understand what she couldn't say.

"Right." A bitter laugh escaped him, "Oh, avoidance should really be your middle name, Lyrrana."

"Jaskier-"

"No." He shook his head and cut her off, "You don't want to miss me? That's shit, if ever I heard it. Let's reword that, shall we? What you really mean to say is: Jaskier, you're going to hurt me, so let's not even bother."

A stone sank with a ferocious crash in her stomach as his words and gaze scolded her like an unruly child. She wanted to be angry with him, but he wasn't entirely wrong. She stared helplessly, not sure how to respond or even if she should.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I really should've rented that room for us last night." He murmured almost sadly, "I'm not going to hurt you, Lyrra."

She swallowed tightly, "I know..."

"Do you?!" His disbelief seared her and she found she couldn't meet his gaze any longer, "Do I scare you, Lyrra? Last night did I -"

"No. No, Jaskier." Lyrra interrupted before he could finish his question, "I wanted last night. You didn't push me or force me."

Jaskier stared at her as he replayed everything he had said and done in that bathing chamber. A slow realization began to creep on him, "But I did scare you."

"No."

Despite the certainty in her voice, he knew it was a lie. It wasn't physical intimacy that was causing Lyrra's hesitance over their affair, it was emotional, "I did. When I saw your back. When I demanded you let me in, I scared you."

Lyrra's lips tightened into a thin line as she glared at him, "No."

Jaskier didn't seem to hear her as he muttered, "How am I attracted to the most emotionally stunted people on the bloody Continent?"

"Jaskier." She sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose, "Can we forget this conversation and go back to where you kissed me good morning?"

He looked as frustrated as she felt as he, in turn, uttered, "No. I promised you last night we go at your pace, not mine... I'll see if I can get my room back at the inn."

"You don't have to." Lyrra started softly.

Jaskier forced a smile at her and she hated it, "Yeah, I do. I think we both need our space. Simpler this way."

She went to protest further, but he cut her off once again.

"Oh...one more thing." A determined expression marred his visage as he swept back into her space and pressed his lips to hers. Lyrra gasped faintly at the sudden contact and he stole the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Unconsciously, her hands rose to tangle in his hair as he backed her against the trunk of the tree. A fiery thrill rushed through her veins as coherent thought left her and all she could do was cling to him as she simply felt.

She felt his warmth and the subtle strength in his body as he pressed against her. She felt his almost desperate grip on her hips and tasted his passion as he took his fill. He hadn't kissed her like this before... He was usually gentle, curious, searching, but this was demanding, almost possessive, it was dizzying. It wasn't until she completely melted into his touch that he pulled away and pressed his head to hers.

A smug gleam sparkled in his eyes, "That's what I thought too."

Utter confusion descended on Lyrra as she stared at him, "What?"

His smile was even smugger, "The thing about having this talk is that declaring our intentions goes both ways. I'll stay at the inn, but I fully intend to end up back in your bed and if I happen to fall into your heart, all the better. You don't get to ignore me. You don't get to be afraid of me, Lyrra. I'm not that scary."

No, he was terrifying.

He stole one more kiss before starting his trek to the cottage. Lyrra was left bewildered to stare after him. She shouted out the only thing that came to mind before he got too far, "This is far from simple!"

Jaskier spun on his heel and grinned, "Yeah, but I already told you – you're complicated. And I like you. Besides, I'm not that easy to get rid of, ask Geralt."

He disappeared around the bend a second later and Lyrra covered her face in disbelief, "He's absolutely mad."

»»————-　　————-««

Geralt felt a headache coming on as he headed back towards the woods. Enough time had passed since he had last checked the clearing that whoever had created the mutated fleders would have had the chance to find their corpses. He hoped anyway. Otherwise, he would need to figure out another way to track down those creature's creator and that meant spending more time in the Toussaint countryside than he was comfortable. Especially, now that Jaskier and Lyrra were...

He didn't know what the fuck those two were doing.

Which in part was why he had a headache now. Jaskier had been gathering his things when he had left the cottage, muttering under his breath about being drawn to emotionally constipated people.

Geralt didn't ask.

He would really rather not know.

What he had gleaned was that they were getting rooms at the inn. Despite his earlier protestations about overstaying their welcome in Lyrra's home, he wasn't looking forward to dealing with the general populace again. He pushed the thought aside as he moved quietly through the brush. The smell of rot had only become heavier in the days that followed and he no longer needed to follow his tracks back to the clearing. The other change was the faint buzzing of flies that filled his ears. The fleders decomp had attracted more insects. His teeth clenched as he resigned himself to the fact that the creator of the two beasts either had not bothered to look for them or the corpses hadn't been discovered yet.

There certainly hadn't been any talk amongst the locals about the discovery of two fleder corpses. He sighed as he stepped fully out of the woods and casually observed the clearing again. The flesh was almost completely gone from the fleders now... wait...fleder. One. Geralt tilted his head and eyed the shadows behind the first corpse. He wasn't mistaken there was only one body now. The other was gone.

He strode forward and bent to study the ground. There were drag marks, but that could have been from an animal dragging the body away for food. Yet, he found that scenario unlikely. Most scavengers could sense a potentially dangerous meal. The venom the fleder created would likely have made it toxic to any creature that attempted to eat it.

More silently than he had entered the clearing, he exited following the tracks. Even then, he could have followed his nose the stench was so bad. Whoever or whatever had come to claim the body had done so recently. It wasn't long before he stumbled onto a narrow path.

The trees had thinned and he could make out neatly organized rows of barren grape vines through the foliage. He must have been on the edge of one of the vineyards. Frowning, he continued on his hunt. Geralt noted the unnatural stillness in the air as he walked. He heard no birds or little critters scurrying through the brush. There were no distant sounds of farmhands, not even a breeze of wind to stir the leaves. A familiar twinge in his gut had him ill at ease, he wasn't the only predator afoot.

He must have walked a quarter-mile when he did finally hear it. It was low and shrill like an out of tune string on a lute. A song. Someone was singing. His twinge turned into a solid sinking instinct as he had a good assumption of what he was about to discover. His hand twitched for his sword as he dimly realized he had not brought the silver one with him. He had anticipated a human threat, not a monster. Geralt knew he had a choice to make – he could continue on and have his assumptions proven correct, but be ill-equipped to deal with the threat or he could head back and return later to a threat that had potentially disappeared.

Sighing quietly, he drew his sword and bent to pull a small silver dagger from his boot. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. He skirted to the edge of the path as he moved like a stalking cat around the bend. His golden eyes missed nothing as he took in the dilapidated ruins of an old manor. Past the tumbled walls he could make out the form of a woman. Her singing was louder now as she hunched over the rotted form of the missing fleder. A bruxa.

He watched for a moment as the bruxa continued to sing. Her head tilted back enough that he could see what appeared to be tears streaming down her cheeks as she caressed the festered corpse. Geralt frowned in confusion.

Had the bruxa made the fleders? Was that even possible?

It wasn't unheard of for bruxae to hunt in packs, but he had never known a bruxa to bother with a fleder. The creatures were usually too stupid and wild to be of notice to the high order vampires.

A low grumbling sounded behind him and Geralt stiffened. It seemed fate had taken his choice from his hand. He whipped around to see a very alive, very hungry looking fleder. The commotion had garnered the attention of the bruxa and her song turned into a screeching cry.

"Fuck." Geralt muttered.

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