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"Did you enjoy my performance, my good sir?"
Albert Mondego almost chokes on his drink at the question that is seductively whispered into his ear and over the jovial din of Carnival.
Then again, the young noble didn't expect to be approached by the handsome bard that has been serenading the plaza so enchantingly all evening.
Daring to be unmasked, the costumed musician had created playful chords on his lute that were a perfect complement to the range of his melodic voice. Albert had stood no chance once the haunting harmony had reached his ears. At the first resonant note, he had immediately turned from his companions' revelry to the source of such talent. A moment had occurred where Albert swore that they both had locked eyes. The bard had winked flirtatiously as he continued to make his way around the square, leaving the young noble to think it was only part of the show—a clever devised act to entice more coin, nothing more.
In all honestly, that moment was to be Albert's secret. The specialized attention directed his way, almost as if the bard had been singing exclusively to him, was a thrill.
And as he had suspected, the man's blue eyes are rather fetching in the luminous moonlight, even more so up close. The startling gaze holds a curious mirth as the bard awaits an answer to his inquiry. Swallowing his nerves, Albert steels himself, as his father, the Count Mondego, had drilled into him from infancy. Noble blood never falters nor backs down to anyone, after all.
Although, the young man suspects that his father had not been referring to impossibly-beautiful men that smile so radiantly, and with such flagrant disregard for the recipient's resulting composure, that it should be a crime.
"I-I did," Albert stammers out, before clearing his throat. "Enjoy your music, I mean. You sing and play beautifully."
"Many thanks," the bard returns as he adjusts the encased lute now strapped to his back. "Tell me, are you enjoying your first Carnival?"
The young Mondego subconsciously touches his face to ensures that his mask is still in place, yet Albert cannot restrain the slight annoyance at the reference to his age. He may be only sixteen, but he cannot be that much younger than the bard before him. They are approximately the same height and build, yet this stranger speaks and carries himself in a way that suggests a worldly experience.
An experience that Albert does not know, yet is instantly envious of.
"You think this is my first Carnival because of my youth?"
"No, my dear," the bard smiles, effortless easing the perceived affront with an endearing tilt of his head. " I believe it is your first because I would have remembered such a handsome face in years past."
The bold flirtation startles a chuckle out of Albert.
"I am masked. Surely, you cannot be so certain of my features?"
"I have never been more certain of anything in my life. Not even the finest mask in Rome could hide such a face as yours."
"You exaggerate."
"And you depreciate. Which is the more egregious crime?"
"In this instance, I would submit defeat to you. After all, I suspect that you are only attempting to win my favor to lighten me of my coins."
The bard grins at the skepticism, clearly unfazed by the half-hearted accusation.
"I seek no coin from you, my good sir. If I had only locked gazes with you for that fleeting moment during my performance or glanced only the bow of your lips and the dimple of your chin, you still would have been emblazoned in my memory. I would be forever haunted by such glimpses of paradise and fated to sing of your beauty for the rest of my woeful days."
Albert is genuinely taken aback by the honest curiosity that is in his companion's gaze. He had not been expecting it.
"Your face may be the reason I approached you, yet it is not the reason I've stayed," the bard insists. "You continue to gift me with this fascinating conversation. To encounter such an incomparable muse as yourself is an invaluable opportunity that I would be remiss to let pass."
The young noble has never heard such poetic words, except in the books his mother secretly collected—the ones she shared with him as she touched the odd twist of string always around her finger. Such words of longing and flattery have never been sincerely directed at him. Albert certainly hasn't witnessed such romance between his own parents or the other married couples he's been exposed to among the nobility his family was acquainted with.
Completely blindsided by the charmingly ardent way the bard stares at him, the young Mondego is at a loss for words. Not one lesson from his parents or his tutors has prepared him for this beguiling stranger. And while his blue eyes seem to reflect the stars, they do not reflect any insincerity. Albert clears his throat, in a futile attempt to hide his embarrassment. He is forever grateful that the mask at least hides the blush that no doubt stains his cheeks.
"Y-you flatter, sir."
The man's charming grin curls further as he leans into Albert's personal space.
"I could do so much more than flatter, if granted the opportunity."
Albert's eyes widen at the directness.
Is Rome truly such a place where such vulgarity and intoxicating carelessness takes place regularly or is it the heady influence of Carnival? Is the entire city simply indulging in temptation during the festivities before returning to the same strict propriety that Albert has left behind in Paris?
Should he too seize the opportunity presented to him in such a tempting package?
"Come away with me."
The whispered request interrupts Albert's thoughts. Blue eyes stare into his, beseeching him with an open earnestness that is equal parts confusing and beguiling.
"I should not leave my friends," the young noble hears himself say. "They will worry."
The resulting chuckle from the bard's lips is an indecent caress to Albert's ear.
"That is not a no, my darling. While I have no desire to coerce you against your will, I cannot help but wonder if you are trying to dissuade me or yourself."
Albert blushes at the endearment as well as the bluntly-stated truth. For reasons he cannot hope to grasp, the noble cannot find it in himself to outright deny the bard. Maybe he had too many cups of wine or perhaps he is swept up in the revelry, but Albert does not want to politely extricate himself quite yet. The noble is all too willing to let himself be pulled into the peculiar bard's charismatic undertow.
"It would be unbecom—"
"You are here to enjoy the festivities, correct?" The bard gently interrupts. "Why not indulge yourself just this night and enjoy the company of a charming stranger? Rules and social convention do not apply during Carnival."
"You are a bewitching siren," Albert breathes out. "My mother warned me about your kind."
His comment earns a fond chuckle.
"You think me dangerous? Now I am sincerely and genuinely flattered," replies the musician as he smiles widely. "I wonder, what else has your mother warned you about?"
The bard reaches out and glides his talented fingers across Albert's doublet, easily stoking a desire that almost rivals the wonderful music he pulls from his lute. The young noble can't help but be tempted by such talented hands. In his entire short, and rather sheltered life, Albert has never come across such wantonness. His well-meaning, yet overprotective, mother never would have allowed it.
Although, as his companion has reminded him, tonight is a night for seizing one's desires.
Rome is hundreds of miles away from Paris and his father's disapproving brow. His mother's worry is a concern for the morning, not the revelry of the Mediterranean night.
With a calibrating breath, Albert puts aside all thoughts of his parents and noble propriety from his mind as the bard presses against him. He chooses to indulge in the moment and rest his hands on the subtle curve of his companion's hips. The action is well-received as the bard leans in to nuzzle against his cheek.
"Do you entice all your spectators so?"
"Only the impossibly-cute ones."
On any other night, two young men pressed so intimately would result in quite the scandal, but during Carnival, the teeming and mostly drunk crowd could not care less. No one bats an eye as the bard slips a hand into Albert's hair, unerringly finding just the right spots as his nimble fingers card through his dark locks and angles their faces closer. So close, that Albert can feel the other man's puffs of warm air, an inebriating contrast to the cool Italian air, that intimately tease his lips.
"The night hides so many things. What is one more set of star-crossed fools compared to the hundreds no doubt indulging tonight?"
"You think us fools?"
"Look around, who tonight is not a fool?"
As the bard speaks, a nearby group of drunk revelers launch into a chorus of slurred song as they stumble along the cobblestone. Albert stifles a chuckle as one man almost falls into a fountain.
"Besides, a fool is not always one without sense or intelligence, they can simply be without care or concern for tomorrow."
The bard's statement has the young Mondego turning his attention back to the subject of his own inebriation.
"A hazardous way to live."
"Yet a bold way, is it not?"
Albert cannot deny the admirable notion.
"Steal away with me," the bard implores again. His voice laced with a longing that stirs every repressed desire in the young noble. "I doubt your companions will miss you for a few moments, you all shall have years of adventures and brotherhood secrets together. They can find other entertainment tonight. Yet, I, would forever lament the passing of these enchanting and fleeting moments with you."
Barely keeping up with the passionate words, Albert's wonder continues when his first kiss is stolen away by the press of the bard's lips. It is with an intoxicating fervor that the man teases and nips as he explores him, guiding and coaxing into deepening the kiss. A skilled tongue slips past his lips, overwhelming yet just right. Albert is properly introduced to sensitive regions of his own mouth that he had been unfamiliar with prior to this passionate exchange. It is the type of kiss that promises everything and denies nothing—both a delectable tease and a lingering assurance.
When they part, Albert is taken aback by how the red, kiss-swollen lips of the bard only serve to entice him further.
It must be a sin for any one, gender aside, to be so enthralling.
"I was right."
"Pardon?" the young noble questions, a bit breathless.
"I was right," the bard repeats, awestruck. "That you are handsome."
Regaining his own senses, Albert registers the cool air upon his bare, yet flushed face. The bard has lifted his mask up during their kiss, resting the final barrier between them upon his brow. Surprised by the continued boldness, yet not angered, Albert only finds himself further endeared.
"Follow me?"
Albert is already following after him before the request fully leaves the other man's mouth. The young Mondego supposes that whatever happens tonight, he can ask for forgiveness in the morning. Perhaps give up an additional indulgence during Lent.
"For a moment?"
"For as many as you can spare, my love."
"You speak of love?" Albert balks incredulously, his blush on full display now that the protection of his mask is gone. "We have only just met."
"Love can be a momentary infatuation or endure for a lifetime, the length of it has no effect on the depth nor its reach. Shall we find out the true measurement of the affection that is between us?"
The bard presses another searing kiss to his lips, leaving Albert to chase hungrily after the tempting mouth. Taking a moment to compose himself, the young noble captures the bard's gaze.
"Albert."
"Hmm?"
"You should know the name of the one you claim to love. May it last for only a moment or a lifetime," Albert states, determinedly. "So, may I know the name of my paramour?"
With a chuckle, the bard slips out of his arms. Albert's heart clenches at the thought that he scared off his bewitching companion with his earnest inquiry. So, he cannot hope to properly voice nor describe the relief he feels when the bard stops after a few steps and turns back around with a playful smirk.
"I was rather taken with the idea of remaining a nameless 'Siren' to you, Albert," the bard teases, "To be forever immortalized in your memory as a charming enigma from your youth would have been an honor."
The bard punctuates his words with a grin that sparkles with sincerity.
"But, if you insist on such practicalities, you may call me, Julian."
With a smile that he can feel splitting his face, Albert takes off after the chuckling man. Julian darts ahead, taking clear advantage of the slight lead as he rounds the corner leading away from the main revelry. A carefree lightness aids his feet as Albert chases through the moonlit streets of Rome after his bard.
Julian, along with the rest of the pirate crew, watches from the shadows as Zatara follows the "rescued" Albert Mondego out of the catacombs. He is grateful that the plan had been executed without flaw, with no injuries or bloodshed, yet an unease settles. The bard wonders, for the first time since agreeing to Zatara's plan, if he actually made the right decision. It was far easier to agree to deceiving the young Mondego when Julian assumed him to be a faceless and arrogant young noble in desperate need of a comeuppance.
However, the earnest and adventurous man he had met at Carnival didn't deserve to be misled so, despite the actions of his parents.
The bard is brought out of his reverie when Captain Vampa pats him on the shoulder.
"You look concerned, Jaskier. Do not worry, Zatara is a clever man. While his plans are complex, they do always work out in the end."
The use of his self-titled name further jolts Julian back to the present. He still can't believe he had given Albert his actual birth name, a name he barely connected to since joining Captain Vampa's crew. Something in the bard demanded he give the young count something tangible that wasn't a lie.
The plan to enamor and lure Albert Mondego has yielded quite a deluge of unanticipated side effects.
"I don't doubt that," Julian replies with a forced smile, as he regards the captain. "Zatara has saved us all on multiple occasions."
"You did well. Unlike Jacopo, I had no doubts that you would lead the boy here with no problem. He thought we should pay some pretty girl. However Jacopo has not seen you enthrall men and women alike with your songs and your little guitar. I shall collect a hefty sum from our wager."
"It's not a 'little guitar', Captain," Julian fondly corrects for what feels like the hundredth time. "It's a lute."
As Captain Vampa heartily laughs at the comment, no doubt already counting the money from the side bet he had with the other pirate, Julian sighs.
"I worry not for Zatara, he is more than capable, nor myself. But I am concerned for those that may get pulled into his wake of vengeance—those that are truly innocent of the hardships that have befallen him."
"Si. You speak the truth, Jaskier," Luigi remarks, before he grins knowingly. "But how unlike you to have a soft spot for the boy! I thought an experienced Casanova such as yourself would fall for a more experienced man, not a puppy."
Julian does not correct the captain, as he would be lying to himself. The bard flirts and becomes enamored with new people in every port. He is constantly intrigued by the peculiarities and variety of humanity. They are always fleeting infatuations.
Except something feels different this time.
Albert Mondego resonated with Julian in a way no one else ever has.
"Albert is different," is all the bard allows himself to say out loud.
"He's a noble, they're all the same. They have more money than sense and would rather step on you than deem to look you in the eyes. Nobles are the true pirates if you ask me."
Julian Alfred Pankratz, former Viscount of Lettenhove, chuckles at that apt comparison.
After all, he would know better than anyone how arrogant and unscrupulous nobles can be. A lifetime ago, Julian knew no different from the privileged and sheltered life that Albert Mondego is no doubt accustomed to. Nobility was a gilded prison that stifled creativity at the best of times. So Julian knew exactly how to entice Albert, a kindred soul that longed for adventure, and appeal to the rebelliousness that had not yet been extinguished.
Julian had taken to the sea on the first boat that had given him a decent offer. He shed his title and made his own way in the world. It had been invigorating to escape the expectations and rules that had impressed upon him from infancy. Luigi and his crew actually enjoyed his playful and sometimes raunchy songs that were the bane of his parents' existence. And if the pirate bard had never crossed paths with another noble in his life, he would have died exuberantly happy.
Yet, he had met Count Albert Geralt Mondego this night—a noble that completely upended his expectations.
A noble that had enjoyed his music and entertained his melodramatic flair for romance. The young Frenchman had not pulled away from his advances yet neither had he taken unwelcome liberties, like so many of his ilk have. He had kissed him back, and allowed Julian to lead the kiss, letting it bloom naturally between them. Albert had made no demands. And once convinced of his own sincerity, the young noble had genuinely pursued him with no further thought to the consequences.
And even in the catacombs, bound and threatened by seemingly-unscrupulous pirates, Albert had surprised him further.
The young Mondego had not begged for his life, he had displayed a valor that men twice his age could not dream of when faced with such danger. Blue bloods usually opted to hide behind their money and their status in such circumstances, yet Albert Mondego did not. The determined set of his jaw, so different from the adorable blush on his cheeks at the plaza following their kiss, had been a charming juxtaposition.
It was unexpected.
It was adorable.
It was utterly captivating.
Julian is already composing a new ballad about his new muse—the noble that was actually worthy of the word. The tale of a sheltered boy that somehow possesses a determination that rivals the most ruthless pirates has definite lyrical potential.
It is a solid beginning that is brimming with potential, at least.
In a way, Albert reminds the bard of Zatara, the intriguing yet oddly-kind man that skillfully evaded yet never got annoyed with Julian's unending questions. He even got Zatara to break his haunted expression occasionally with his jokes and bawdy stories—a feat within itself. After seeing the two men together, the bard decides that the determined set of their deep eyes is an unique feature that Albert and Zatara share.
Julian shakes his head as he realizes that his fascination with those that standout has been his undoing once again.
How typical of a hopelessly-romantic bard such as himself, to become so enamored with a stranger in a night. Someone that would no doubt end up hating him if he were to find out how he was tasked with luring him into this elaborate trap. A harbinger for Zatara, The Count of Monte Cristo, to enter his life and utterly destroy everything he knows.
"Perhaps, you are right, Captain. I shouldn't concern myself with his fate," Jaskier replies as he and the rest of the crew prepare to make their way out of the catacombs. "It is a shame though. I only had a taste of Albert Mondego. I would not have minded another."
The captain barks out a hearty laugh at that as he claps Jaskier on the back.
"There's the incorrigible flirt we all know and love!"
As Julian's gaze drifts to the seat Albert had been tied to not moments ago, the captain follows his gaze.
"Zatara still needs us around for his plans, in fact we'll be heading back to France to help move his shipment. If it pleases you, you can go with Jacopo and help keep an eye on the boy from a distance."
"Captai—."
Julian silences himself at the knowing expression on the pirate captain's face. As jovial as Luigi Vampa is, he is no fool. His sharp eyes miss nothing.
"Go ahead, Jaskier. We're always happy to have you aboard, but you can't keep running away from what you want. You are a pirate bard, are you not? In treasure and in life, you must seize what you can."
As the captain grins expectantly, Jaskier can't help but return it as he finishes the phrase.
"And give nothing back."
Albert Mondego easily falls in line behind his mother and new father as they stroll down the steep path leading away from the Chateau D'If. From beside him, Jacopo grins as he flips a knife between his fingers. The pirate is a constant presence now, and a comforting one. After all, he did save his mother's life and kept Albert from foolishly rushing into that duel that fateful day.
A bright laugh leaves his mother lips as Edmond whispers something into her ear. It brings a smile to Albert's lips. He is truly and genuinely happy for his mother. Albert is hard-pressed to recall such open and untarnished joy upon her face. She hasn't stopped beaming since everything has been set to rights.
The funeral of Fernand Mondego had been a quick affair, for appearances more than any kind of fondness or sentiment. Albert would be lying to say that part of him hadn't mourned the man he thought to be his father, yet knowing all that he knew now, he couldn't feel sadness or regret for the outcome.
He and Edmond Dantes, his true father, have talked at length over the last few weeks—usually during their afternoon fencing lessons.
And though it would be some time until he considers the count he had admired, then briefly hated, then admired again as his parent, Albert still counts him as a trusted confidant that has a worldly wisdom and charm.
It has been a process to navigate the lies of his childhood and to come to terms with the occasional doubts about his own self-worth and persistent questioning of his own identity. Yet, it becomes easier each day to call Edmond, Father— a title that had always felt more of a formal title towards Fernand than a sincere, familial endearment.
And after all that has transpired, Albert finds himself thinking about seizing his own opportunities and going after his own adventures—living boldly and being foolish as it were. The young Mondego Monte Cristo finds himself eager to test his own mettle and discover who he is as a man.
Whatever form that man takes.
As he watches his parents stare at each other adoringly, trading kisses and sweet words, a bittersweet longing taints Albert's happiness for them. He is reminded of that night in Rome, of the bard that is now a sweet memory. Even with the unpleasantness that followed in the catacombs and the full understanding of his father's vengeful machinations, the young noble still loses himself in memories of a warm night and lingering kisses—of Julian.
"Who is that?"
Mercedes' words break through the boy's thoughts. Following the gazes of the adults around him, Albert spots the figure perched on the rocks of the beach. A lithe-bodied brunette wearing a simple white tunic and breeches blends almost seamlessly along the coastline. And despite the distance, the sea breeze carries a gentle, yet familiar song to his ear.
The young Monte Cristo is in shock as he processes the vision before him—his bard gently strumming a lute and looking every bit like the enchanting siren he once branded him to be.
Julian?
The enticing musician smiles as Albert breaks away from his parents and runs to meet him at the shore. The sand far from hinders his stride, yet he still reaches the bard with a pounding heart.
"Julian? What are you doing here?"
"I was in the neighborhood."
Not at all surprised by the bard's mysterious talk, Albert plays along with a raised eyebrow.
"You frequent the Chateau D'If?"
"I may have hitched a ride with some pirates that were passing through on their way to Marseilles. Rumor had it, the Count of Monte Cristo and his family were visiting this isle, so I took a chance."
"A foolish chance."
"Yet, a bold one," Julian counters. "Should I be flattered that you remembered me?"
"It's hard to forget the one that stole your first kiss," Albert answers. "Yet, it is even harder to forget them when you realize that they were a lure. You worked for the Coun—I mean, my father as part of his revenge."
"Yes. We sailed together for a few years and I agreed to lead you to the catacombs."
Albert is satisfied that the bard denies nothing.
"So, you chose to lure me with song and honeyed words?"
"I was honestly surprised when you called me a siren that night. You pegged me well," Julian grins self-deprecatingly. "But, I also surprised myself because I meant every one of my words that night."
The confession warms the young Monte Cristo.
"And what of our kiss? Was that part of your lure?"
"Sirens don't kiss their victims. You did a fair bit of enchanting yourself."
Albert smiles at that. He extends a hand out to help Julian down off his perch. The bard slings his lute across his back in a fluid motion before taking the offered assistance. It is a graceful dismount on his part, borne of years on the seas no doubt. On even ground, the two men stare at each other. Albert and Julian are once again lost in their own world as they share a smile. They don't let go of each other's hands.
"So, I have ensnared a siren," Albert teases with a grin. "That is quite the accomplishment."
"Yes, although not singlehandedly. I admit that I may have indulged myself."
"Jaskier does that a lot, actually."
Looking up at that interruption, both Albert and Julian locks eyes with the titular Count of Monte Cristo, Edmond Dantes. The man smiles warmly at his son and the bard, as he lovingly holds a radiant Mercedes to his side. Albert notices how Julian also seems to take joy in seeing the man look so unburdened and happy. Admittedly, he too is often taken aback by the rekindled love between his mother and father.
However, Albert's brow furrows as he takes notice of the name that his father graced Julian with.
"Jaskier?"
"A name that I was known as upon the seas,: explains the bard. "Your father is not the only one with a past, Albert."
"I'll say," comments Jacopo with a knowing snort.
Despite the glare Julian sends his way, the other former pirate only laughs by his place beside Zatara.
"Edmond? Albert? Who is this man? May I remind you, we still have not been introduced."
Before Albert can answer his mother, he is cut off by Julian. The bard makes a sweeping bow before introducing himself.
"Forgive me, Madame. My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. A humble bard and musician. And if your son would have me, I'd like to get to know you all better."
Albert smiles at Julian's words, giving his hand a firm squeeze.
"Julian? Albert darling, is this the same bard that you kissed in Rome? How wonderful!"
In that mortifying moment, the young count sincerely wishes that the sand would swallow him whole.
"You told your mother about me?"
As a faint blush stains the young Monte Cristo's cheeks, he looks to Julian. The blue eyes hold a fond amusement as a matching smile curls his lips. There is a fetching pink tinge to the bard's cheeks. And when Julian's deep chestnut hair gets caught in the sea breeze, it honestly makes Albert fall in love with him in this moment—just as hopelessly as he did during Carnival.
"Well, she had asked if I enjoyed Rome. I don't have secrets from my mother."
"More like you are incapable of keeping them from me, Albert."
There is a knowing grin on his mother's lips that makes the young man roll his eyes. However, Albert is sufficiently distracted from his own embarrassment by the warm chuckle that leaves Julian's lips as he takes a step closer. The bard's hand weaves it way into the dark curls as a grounding touch.
"Well, I hope she doesn't mind that I'm also about to be the young man that kisses you right here."
Momentarily ignoring the presence of his parents and Jacopo, Albert leans into the embrace. The sea salt that faintly clings to Julian's lips is the perfect accompaniment to his sweet kiss.
- FIN -