to sing a loftier song [jaskier x reader]

4. no shame in a shivering truth

Marta remains a lovely, distracting, minx of a woman. Maybe it's not fair to think of her as a distraction, but that is how this started and he has no compunctions about the truth of the matter between them. It's not a matter of true love, just a matter of two people falling together because they can and they want to.

Except —

He's half-undressed and has his hands under her skirt when he hears, over the sound of their breathing, a door open downstairs. She hears it too, by the way her whole body stiffens, and his pulse spikes for a reason that has nothing to do with the bare skin under his hands.

"What was that?" he murmurs, hoping it is — anything but what he thinks. A rat infestation? A goblin?

"My husband," she says with no ceremony or apparent alarm, which is a far cry from how he personally feels. "Time for you to go, then," she continues evenly, stepping away from him.

Time for me to go indeed! he thinks, because if he says it he knows he will come across far too loudly. "And how should I do that?" he asks, watching her adjust her hair and skirts. He slings his lute case across his back and, when she doesn't immediately answer, goes to the window. It's not too high of a jump. Higher than he might like, but as long as he doesn't land on his lute, it'll be alright. Not a chance he likes taking, but he would rather that over taking his chances with her husband.

"I'll go downstairs to distract him," she says, and leaves without so much as a goodbye. Well — he'd never been attached, but it's different to get a response from her like this. At least it's sorted.

He opens the window and peers down into her back garden, grateful at least that he won't be jumping out onto flagstones. It's not the first or the fifth time he's left someone's home like this, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it. He takes a breath and braces himself, listening to her voice through the floor — a call of hello to her husband — and then he jumps for the ground.

He lands with a thud that he feels across his whole body, in all of his bones, falling to his hands and knees. His blood is pounding in his ears from it, from the rush of it, but not so loudly that he does not hear the sound of a raised voice, the creak of the back door opening.

Jaskier scrambles to his feet with only a moment spared to ensure his lute is still on his back, and then he takes off in a run.

He is a bit out of shape and didn't do too much running in Geralt's company anyway, but he pushes himself to go as fast as he can until the academy is at least in his sights. The guards at the bridge don't stop him, familiar with him by now, but he doesn't stop to chat with them like he usually does. It's early, still, the moon low in the sky, and he makes his way home by memory as he tries to calm his body.

There's a sound behind him, somewhere, and despite that search for calm he is still panicked enough that he decides it's a better idea to run the rest of the way, stitch in his side be-damned. He only slows to a quick walk when he enters the building because he knows too well that Lidia will kill him if he's running in her halls. She caught him sliding down the banister one morning a few weeks ago and threatened to string him up by his ankles.

He does take the stairs two at a time, eager to be somewhere with a locked door between him and the world, and to be home besides. The door comes quickly into view, and it is with shaking hands that he digs in his pocket for the key.

He pushes the door open and turns to firmly shut it behind him, feeling relief for what must be the first time in — hours, it must be. He turns, expecting to find her looking at him with some level of confusion for his sudden arrival, probably snuggled up on the couch, and —