Meadow

Jaskier made one lap of the meadow, then a second, then a third. He searched every secluded corner, turned over a couple stones, and even barged unapologetically between a mare and her presumed lover in his desperate determination. And by the end of his final circuit, the thick veil of his denial finally lifted. They weren’t here. They actually weren’t here. Here he was, searching the rear end of nowhere like some great stupid fool, and Larkspur and Hyacinth... they were probably still standing back on that distant shore laughing at him. The buckskin’s brindle laced his ears back at the imagined scene, indignation swelling his chest and forcing its way past his lips in a harsh snarl.

“Why you cold, heartless b—”

Mother? The two syllables were soft and timid, but ended Jaskier’s tirade as effectively as any shout. He turned instinctively in the direction of its source, head tipping gently to one side as he watched the red figure separate itself from the mist. She wasn’t Hyacinth, but then, he’d suspected that from the first note of her voice. His sister had never spoken to him so gently— and would probably claim that it was the worst kind of slander on her dam to try and insult him with her title. Teasing about looking girly? Sure, she did that on a daily basis. But if there was anything at all that mattered to his insufferable sibling, it was family. He’d even thought himself included amongst those precious, valuable few— before she’d drowned and abandoned him, of course.

Who needs her anyway, the golden stallion thought sourly in the moment of silence before the strange girl spoke again. I’m sorry, she said. I thought you were someone else. Only moments ago, Jaskier had been ready to stomp off in a fit worthy of Hyacinth. Or brood in that silent, sulky way that only his soul-brother had down to an art. But when he met the red dun’s eyes and read the too-familiar despair and loneliness, there it was strangely comforting. At least he wasn’t alone in, well— being alone. Tossing the damp strands of his inky forelock out of his gold eyes, the brindle offered his nameless companion a warm, raffish smile. “I hope that I am,” he responded jauntily, giving no indication of his current predicament. “Someone else, that is. Last time I checked, I had all the wrong parts to be a mother. It would be quite the unfortunate turn of events if that suddenly changed.”

Gold eyes laughing, he tilted his head to the other side before voicing his curiosity. “Lost someone, have you?” He asked, relaxing one black-dippled limb so that only the tip of its hoof touched the dew-dampened ground. “I happen to be searching for a pair of good-for-nothing scoundrels myself. I’ve already searched this meadow quite thoroughly, waste of effort that it proved to be— they’re not here. But if you tell me what this mother of yours looks like, then I can at least tell you whether I've seen her.”

Falling silent, Jaskier watched the red mare expectantly as he awaited her answer.