The passage of time felt irrelevant in Enya’s company; somehow the mare had become the center of his world, a force more powerful than gravity and a need stronger than the air that he breathed. But Jaskier could still sense the days passing him by even as the blurred together in a golden haze, and there was a part of him that was concerned by that. A piece of his heart still yearned for his family— for his sister Hyacinth and his soul-brother Larkspur. And this piece battled endlessly against his devotion to the champagne woman, a devotion that surpassed reason and still confounded him. He wanted to go and find the others, but he was too afraid to leave Enya. Not because he believed her heart was too delicate, or her body too fragile.

No, the brindle stallion feared that— in his absence— the slender, fiery mare would forget him all too easily.

As always, Jaskier was not left to linger long on these weighty thoughts. The pinch of teeth on his skin pull him back to the present, and the striped male responded with an indignant snort and a backwards sweep of his ears. In the next instant, he was leaping forward in pursuit, his shoulder colliding intentionally with her thigh. “Keep up with you?” He purred from a single pace behind, the worried creases of his expression rearranging themselves into a sultry smile. Lightning-quick, his teeth reached out to rake a line across the curve of Enya’s rump, and then he broke away. “Perhaps, but only if I play dirty. And that wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me, would it?”

With a single bark of laughter, he let his companion pull ahead, relishing the chase far more than the prospect of victory. Besides, from the beginning of their… whatever this was, he’d learned that it was prudent to save a measure of strength lest their games turn into something more serious. Though she remained inexplicably fascinated by him, Enya was still wont to test him now and then— and often when he least expected it. A mutual grooming session might suddenly become an exchange of nips and squeals, a quiet moment of reflection might be interrupted by an unexpected (if often restrained) kick. And regardless of his objections, Jaskier found himself both anticipating and enjoying these battles of will. He felt alive in a way that he’d never felt before— as if he’d been sleeping his whole life, and had finally woken to a world more vibrant and thrilling than even his greatest dreams.

By the time the pair of lovers (were they lovers? Jaskier could scarcely bring himself to dare) drew near the Lagoon’s boundary, the gold male was a few paces behind, and content with his loss. On a whim, however, he ducked suddenly to one side, concealing the bold, bright colors of his coat in a dense thicket. And it was there that he waited with a patience belied by the subtle quiver of his skin, the bright embers that burned behind his amber-colored eyes. Enya was even more eager and restless than he— soon enough she would come in search of him, and then she’d stumble into his trap. Tensing the coils of his muscles and recognizing only faintly the scent of another equally familiar mare, the brindle stallion tipped his head gently to one side, watching the world beyond his newly-claimed sanctuary.

And waiting.