A small smile touches his lips. He's been worried, naturally, since they've returned, but he's made an effort not to hover over her, either. He likes to think it helps she has a family here, between Jaskier and Julie and himself.

And a few friends, it seems, from those who arrived today. (Even if Geralt's feelings towards Viktor remain less than charitable right now.)

He slips the chain over her head, tugging her braid out from beneath. The medallion settles against her chest. There are times he reflects on being both the first and last of his kind in this sphere. That's not changed, but it feels less hollow when he has something different, something more, that he's helped keep in the world.

"It looks good." She's more than earned it.