The bard hoped the run in with the knight didn't put a sour image of him in Hevi's mind. He was sure the fact that many would place a target on his back for sleeping around with their wives didn't make him look favorable. The beautiful guard to the princess didn't seem to care much, though. The blush on her face had her cheeks the color of pale roses and the sweet hint of a smile on her face had Jaskier's stomach tying itself in knots.
He didn't want her to find him unappealing, but he was finding all kinds of hints to prove she felt the opposite. "I'll be sure to show it to you first." He was speaking with such confidence, but inside, this was the first time he felt nervous about writing a song. Of course, this was just talk and he didn't have to write a song about her, but in that moment he wanted to. If he hadn't left his lute back with Roach, the young bard would probably be plucking away at the strings as they walked through the castle. He could imagine following her around the halls or the city streets for days, playing a ballad he wrote for her, serenading her all day long.
"Are you busy?" He cleared his throat, looking up at her sheepishly through his lashes. "If you're not, perhaps we could go sit and get a drink? Or are you on duty?" Jaskier knew the moment they would go separate ways he wouldn't be able to get her out of his thoughts. She was already unlike any woman who had ever given him the time of day, there hadn't been a single one in the royal guard or one who knew how to carry a sword, that was for certain.
The servant had been trying his best to hold the princess up, but he was a small man, very slim and frail. The king didn't care much for the servants, they were fed barely better than the homeless living on their streets. It made Ifri sick to think about it, but she knew there was nothing she could ever do about it. She would never be Queen. She was surprised when the Witcher slid his arm under her legs and and the other around her waist and hoisted her up against his chest. The servant even looked to be in disbelief, a little shocked to think the Witcher would even care. The young man didn't falter long, Geralt's stare making him quick to lead the way.
"This way-" He mumbled under his breath before continuing up a set of stone stairs. Ifri glanced up at Geralt, seeing his eyes lighting up like fire as the sun came in through the windows. Trying to relax her stiff body she slowly let her head lay against his chest and tried to focus on her breathing. It was hard to do when all she could think about was the strong stranger carrying her in his arms.
Hearing the creaking of doors, Ifri opened her eyes to see the door to her
bedroom opened. It was dimly lit, with not much light coming through the gated windows. Art decorated the walls insinuating that this room at another time perhaps had a different purpose than being a bedroom. A large chandelier hung from the center ceiling and besides a bed all that decorated the room was a vanity and wardrobe. Geralt stepped into the room and seemed to halt for a second, Ifri still content in his arms. He was warm and with her head against his chest she could hear his unusually slow heartbeat.
The servant looking terrified to be alone with the Witcher, he quickly mentioned something about bringing the princess water before he disappeared from the room.
@ beam me up scotty