“Oh, a shooting star!” Jaskier gasps at the night sky, closing his eyes. “Hush, I need to do this right. I wish…”
For Ciri to be safe.
For Yen to find peace.
For Geralt…
“Wasting your three wishes again?” Geralt hugs the blanket around them, huffing by Jaskier’s ear. “Hmm, let me guess. Fame, wealth… what’s the third one?”
Jaskier winks. “The third one, darling, needs no help from the stars.”
For Geralt to be loved, he thinks quietly, solemnly.
“Death upon Valdo Marx?” Geralt smiles.
“Death upon Valdo Marx, of course,” Jaskier agrees, kissing the shape of that smile.