Expectations

You couldn't go on ignoring it anymore. It had been two months since your last period, and two weeks since the vomiting had started. At first you had convinced Jaskier that it was a mere stomach bug, but you knew that the signs all pointed towards something much more permanent.

"Still?" you heard the bard asked as he kneeled down next to you on the washroom floor and placed a comforting hand on your back, "Y/N, maybe we should get you to a doctor."

You shook your head and coughed, the sour taste of bile still stinging your throat. "I know what they'd say," you said, not daring to meet your lover's eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, "because you've been like this for weeks now and I'm starting to think that maybe it's more than-"

"I'm pregnant." You spat the words out into the toilet with the rest of your vomit.

A silence hung in the air. "Are you sure?" Jaskier asked again, this time with a different meaning entirely. You nodded, tears welling up in your eyes. Soon you felt Jaskier's hand lift from your back and the tears began to fall at the thought of him leaving you for good.

You sat there for what felt like an eternity, either unsure of what to do or unable to do anything. Eventually you felt that comforting hand on your back again and turned to see Jaskier holding a glass of water. He gave you a small smile before lifting the glass to your lips. You felt the cold liquid slip past your tongue, a refreshing wave down your burning throat. After a few sips you sat up proper, wiping the tears from your face. Jaskier stood and offered you a hand, which you gladly took. When you stood he wrapped his arms around you, his left around your waist and his right resting on the back of your head. You melted into your beloved bard as his fingers sank down your neck, caressing your curls. "Can I do your hair?" he asked softly.

You nodded and the two of you walked across the hall to the bedroom you shared when he was in town. You sat cross legged on the mattress, and Jaskier slid in behind you. He took a white porcelain comb from the nightstand and began running it through your hair. It was a beautiful comb that your great aunt had given you, inlaid with delicate stones but large and strong enough to pull through your thick locks. You always loved when Jaskier combed your hair, he was thorough and deliberate but always slow and careful not to tug. Once your hair was free of tangles he set to work braiding it into an elaborate plait, weaving tendrils back away from your face. "How long have you known?" he asked tentatively, his hands still at work.

"I haven't been sure, until now," you responded. A moment later you added hesitantly "It has to have been about two months." You felt Jaskier pause and held your breath. It had only been a month since he'd returned from his last trip with Geralt. The two of you had never been exclusive - he was often gone for long periods at a time, and you both had needs - but the thought of raising another man's child filled you with something that could be best described as shame.

You released your breath only when you felt his hands back at work in your hair. Soon he was finished, and he tied the end of the plait with a bit of black ribbon. His hands gently rubbed up and down your forearms before coming to rest at your shoulders "Why don't you lie down, darling," you heard him say softly, "I'll give you a massage."

You quickly dabbed at a tear forming in the corner of your eye before turning and laying on your stomach, your head facing away from Jaskier. He began making quick work of your aching muscles, starting with your shoulders and neck. Then he moved lower, his dexterous hands kneading away knots in your back from over your clothes. You let out a breathy sigh at the release of tension and he slid his palms past your hips but didn't linger; often these massages of his were purely a means to an end, but this wasn't one of those times. His hands rubbed at the muscles in your legs before gently cupping your feet, careful not to tickle you too much.

After finishing your massage he ran a hand gently up your legs and torso, to your shoulder and down your arm. You curled your legs to your chest in a fetal position, still unable to look the man you loved in the eye. "Y/N," he said, gently caressing you, "Y/N, look at me." You turned your head and saw Jaskier standing over you, a look of pure adoration in his eyes. "I want you to know that you've never looked as beautiful as you do right now," he said, "and I'll be staying here, no matter what, I'm staying here." The words fell from his mouth like honey. "And even if it's not mine, well... It'll be mine. It'll be mine... that is, if that's okay with you." He added that last bit quickly, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

You turned over fully and placed a hand on his cheek. If there were any doubts in your mind about whether or not you loved this man then they had all been extinguished in that moment. You lifted your head up slightly and he dipped his down, meeting you in the middle for a passionate kiss. The future had never seemed so uncertain, but you were ready to face whatever was to come with the love of your life at your side.