[John doesn’t know how or when their time in this place will end, but he feels it coming. Like a tug deep down at the very core of himself.

There are pieces of this place he will miss dearly, for all it was a construct. His time spent together with friends he had made along the way. Being Verity himself. The quiet moments in Geralt’s cabin, just the two of them together in the woods. The bonds he had built with others, like the man standing before him, holding his hand.

He supposes those will still be there, when things are returned to as they were. But he will have to nurse this, seek it out. See that it holds, once the walls of the territories are back in place.

He offers his companion a soft twist of a smile, his expression wry.]

I am afraid I am not so important a Lord as that — the title is mostly only one of courtesy. Though you may have one for luck, if you would like.

[Without waiting for a reply, John squeezes Jaskier’s fingers in his once more and leans forward to press a gentle kiss against his cheek.]