Beneath the General’s scrutiny, Jaskier clung to his memories of joy with Anne to hold him steady. Light. Light and warmth, and the thrill of soaring through the air. Meeting Tyr’s mismatched gaze evenly, the brindle answered his query with the careless tip of a head that was their kind’s equivalent of a shrug. As if the draft’s disbelief was of little consequence, and his own confidence more than just a facade. But in the hollow cavity of his chest, the buckskin’s heart beat so quickly, so loudly, that he was certain both of his companions could hear. Nor was he able to still the restless quiver of his skin, though that was less from fear and more from the overwhelming need that threatened to break free of its dam. If he could only be closer to the pintaloosa mare… if he could just stand beside her it would be a comfort, even without the gentle brush of her lips— But this was a dangerous dance, and an ill-placed action or word could cost them both. He wouldn’t risk her safety and freedom for the sake of his peace; he couldn’t.

But Anne, it seemed, placed far less value on her future than he did.

Warmth and light, Jaskier reminded himself when the roan woman stepped between him and the powerful bachelor, though both of those things were absent now. For the first time, he glimpsed a side of her that was as cold and unyielding as stone— and ached knowing that it’d been he who summoned it. Why give your children - your future with her - for someone you left to flounder in the wake of your destruction? Flinching back from the force of those hard words and harder truths, the young stallion could only stare subserviently at the ground, watching blades of grass flutter fruitlessly in the wind. Then he felt the tickle of her whiskers and the velvet warmth of her muzzle, and leaned into the touch with the reckless abandon of a bird about to take wing.

I want nothing more than to be with you, beloved. He wanted it too, wanted to show her what he would give for that chance. But I must raise the question - is the cost too great? Could Anne truly not see her own worth? No cost was too great, even if it had meant trading his freedom for hers. If you wish for a peaceful life with your children, I will stay. The striped male’s ears twitched back in confusion and self-contempt. And he— “There wouldn’t be any peace for me in that life. Not without you.” Jaskier murmured, his voice breaking briefly with emotion. Love and joy and regret and fear. He tried to share them all in the silent communion of a single glance, and could only hope that Anne would see, and understand.

She didn’t; at the bass rumble of Tyr’s acceptance, his lover’s eyes fell closed like a prisoner sentenced to the gallows. Was— was it really concern for his children that colored her reaction? Or was she less certain of her place at his side since he’d failed her? Jaskier’s tongue felt thick and heavy with the weight of this possibility, but he forced it to move anyway; forced himself to speak. “I— I won’t make you go if you’d rather stay, Anne. It’s your choice. But my sons— they need someone to teach them to be strong, and I’m still learning that myself.” And what he knew of strength he’d learned from her, from Enya. Without the lessons they’d taught him, he could have never been strong enough to give the tobiano mare the freedom he’d won her freely, and not keep it— selfishly, wantonly— for himself.

“I— I could never believe this place capable of change,” Jaskier confessed in the silence that followed. “Except that I watched you the whole time you were here. And not only did they not hurt you, but they protected you. I can’t even tell you how many times I witnessed Tyr circling around where you slept, making sure that you were safe and well. And if he can do a better job teaching my sons the value of peace than he did his own—” The bright buckskin laughed here, a short bark that was accompanied by an apologetic glance at the spotted beast. “—then it’ll be as much my victory as his.”

No, it would be more. Because if Anne would agree to leave with him— if she’d agree, then he’d never let them be parted again.