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jaskier is born with a frayed Fate String tied to his left ring finger.
he doesn't know this is significant until he overhears his nanny talking about them with one of the servants, saying how her own just recently lost its length and knotted itself back up again.
he doesn't know this is significant until he overhears his nanny talking about them with one of the servants, saying how her own just recently lost its length and knotted itself back up again.
"what's that mean?" he asks her, and she gives him a smile that's polite.
"that they've died," she tells him. "when soulmates no longer walk the world together, the String loses its length and becomes naught but a reminder for the rest of your days."
"that they've died," she tells him. "when soulmates no longer walk the world together, the String loses its length and becomes naught but a reminder for the rest of your days."
"what if it's torn?" he asks, looking at his own, and she frowns at him.
"what do you mean?"
"it's torn," he repeats, holding up his hand. he knows she can't see it - only soulmates can see the String connecting them - but he does it anyway. "the end is frayed."
"what do you mean?"
"it's torn," he repeats, holding up his hand. he knows she can't see it - only soulmates can see the String connecting them - but he does it anyway. "the end is frayed."
"not possible," nanny says. "the String can't be severed."
jaskier knows this, has been told this, but his /is/. there is length, about four inches extending from his finger, and at the end it's unraveled, the individual threads spread like fingers, like the hems of old shirts.
jaskier knows this, has been told this, but his /is/. there is length, about four inches extending from his finger, and at the end it's unraveled, the individual threads spread like fingers, like the hems of old shirts.
jaskier doesn't ask his nanny again - she doesn't believe him anyway - but that doesn't stop him from wondering why his String is different.
"maybe it's broken," a friend suggests, when he tells them about it, but that doesn't feel right either.
"maybe it's broken," a friend suggests, when he tells them about it, but that doesn't feel right either.
he doesn't /feel/ broken. there's the Pull in his chest, the urge to run, to search and find, to /seek/ where his Fate String leads, and he thinks if he were broken he wouldn't feel that.
when he's eighteen, the Pull becomes too strong to ignore.
when he's eighteen, the Pull becomes too strong to ignore.
he's been thinking about leaving for years now, not content to stay and become the viscount his parents expect of him. jaskier wants to /explore/, to travel the world and find fame and fortune on his own. he's tired of being /stuck/.
the week after his eighteenth birthday,
the week after his eighteenth birthday,
he packs up his lute and what little possessions he has, and he doesn't look back.
jaskier follows the Pull in his chest. it takes him down dirt roads that lead anywhere, and he stays in towns barely big enough for a tavern and inn. he doesn't know where he's going, but he's
jaskier follows the Pull in his chest. it takes him down dirt roads that lead anywhere, and he stays in towns barely big enough for a tavern and inn. he doesn't know where he's going, but he's
excited to find out.
he sings, and when that doesn't put food in his belly he does other things that do, but he doesn't let it dampen his spirit. the Pull is stronger than ever, and he knows he's getting close to meeting the person at the other end of his String.
he sings, and when that doesn't put food in his belly he does other things that do, but he doesn't let it dampen his spirit. the Pull is stronger than ever, and he knows he's getting close to meeting the person at the other end of his String.
the Pull takes him to posada, to a tavern at the edge of the world.
it urges him over to a table in the corner where a man with white hair and gold eyes sits alone.
"i love the way you just sit in the corner and...brood."
it urges him over to a table in the corner where a man with white hair and gold eyes sits alone.
"i love the way you just sit in the corner and...brood."
gold eyes move to him long enough for a low voice to rumble, "i'm here to drink alone," before they move away again, and jaskier suddenly wants them back, wants to be the focus of that gaze for as long as he can.
he moves to sit, and he asks for a review, and those gold eyes
he moves to sit, and he asks for a review, and those gold eyes
are back on him - except not quite, they're on his hand, they're on his /String/, wide and not quite believing.
jaskier pauses. "you can see my String," he says, and wide gold eyes snap back up to him. he repeats, softly, "you can see it."
the man - the witcher - stands.
jaskier pauses. "you can see my String," he says, and wide gold eyes snap back up to him. he repeats, softly, "you can see it."
the man - the witcher - stands.
"i don't see anything," he lies, and then he's walking away, and jaskier feels the Pull urging him to follow.
they're caught by elves, and then they're free again, and jaskier knows the truth now. but he knows people don't want the truth, they want /adventure/, so he sings
they're caught by elves, and then they're free again, and jaskier knows the truth now. but he knows people don't want the truth, they want /adventure/, so he sings
of a witcher who is a hero, who fights the hordes and saves the day.
"why are you following me," geralt asks, except it's more a demand.
jaskier looks at him, eyebrows raised. "because this is where i'm supposed to be."
"why are you following me," geralt asks, except it's more a demand.
jaskier looks at him, eyebrows raised. "because this is where i'm supposed to be."
geralt pulls off his glove then and holds out his hand. there is no Fate String around his finger, just a faint, barely-there scar.
"the trials burned it away," he says, and jaskier thinks he sounds - pained. "it's a weakness. and witchers die if they're weak."
"the trials burned it away," he says, and jaskier thinks he sounds - pained. "it's a weakness. and witchers die if they're weak."
jaskier holds up his own hand, shows off the frayed end of his own String. "and yet," he says, "here we are."
geralt is quiet, and then he urges roach forward down the path. jaskier follows beside them, the Pull in his chest appeased for now.
// end thread
geralt is quiet, and then he urges roach forward down the path. jaskier follows beside them, the Pull in his chest appeased for now.
// end thread
