Chapter Text
Merlin was angry at Arthur. Well - maybe not angry , but definitely irritated. There was no point in trying to reason with him anymore - whatever Merlin did, the prince always threw much more chores at him than he would ever manage to complete without the use of his magic. And Arthur didn’t even know he had magic at all! Merlin thought of the poor boy he once rescued from Arthur’s bullying. His previous servant. Surely he didn’t have magic, but even more surely, Arthur used to give him just as much work.
On the other hand - maybe he didn’t? Maybe it was all just because Merlin was the only one to ever stand up to him?
He shook his head. That didn’t matter. He couldn’t stay at the camp they were currently staying in without completing the ridiculous amount of tasks, so he headed for the nearest village, lost in his thoughts.
He was passing small, countryside houses, he heard crying of small children being put to sleep at the late evening hour, he heard dogs bark and a few people laugh around the town, he felt the smell of humid air, felt the wind and was able to see the stars shimmering above his head very clearly. He took a deep breath and felt irritation leave him, as if taken away by magic (which might have actually happened - it was nature, after all, the very source of his own magic).
After a moment, Merlin heard a muffled round of applause and loud, happy voices. He looked in the direction the sounds were coming from. It was a local tavern, and - judging by the yells and whistles - there was a performer inside.
“Thank you! Thank you!” a voice broke through the people of the village. “Now, for my last performance tonight, I suggest you, my dear listeners, could choose a suitable enough song!” he yelled, definitely with a smile on his face.
Merlin grimaced. He was not the kind of person to judge others too quickly, but the voice told him that the smile on the man’s face was as fake as it gets, which made him look like even more of a show-off in Merlin’s head.
“Toss a coin! Toss a coin!” was the most common phrase yelled by multiple people inside. Merlin huffed. A popular one . Those were the worst kind. The man was probably very much like Arthur. Mister I-am-the-best and therefore I-deserve-everything. He was about to walk away, when the sounds of a lute got him hooked.
“ When a humble bard / Graced a ride along / With Geralt of Rivia / Along came this song,” he started, and Merlin decided to stay and listen. Surely he could ignore the humble singer, if he’s a good one and has good songs to listen to. Tell apart the artist and the art - am I right? “From when the White Wolf fought / A silver-tongued devil / His army of elves / At his hooves did they revel,” the bard continued and Merlin tilted his head. Elves? There were no elves in Albion. And he’s never heard of the White Wolf he mentioned either. He walked up to the door and walked inside the tavern, as a now clear and loud voice carried on “They came after me / With masterful deceit / Broke down my lute / And they kicked in my teeth.” Merlin leant against a wall in the back, taking in the sight of way more people listening to the song than he had expected.
“Anything for you?” a man asked him, probably the owner of the place.
“Uh, no, thanks,” he replied, but pulled a few coins out of his pocket and gave them to the man, as payment for entering. The man seemed content with such a situation, as he smiled and bowed his head to Merlin before he walked away. The bard was now getting to the chorus of the song and the melody he played on his lute became more rhythmic.
“Toss a coin to your Witcher / Oh, Valley of Plenty / Oh, Valley of Plenty, oh / Toss a coin to your Witcher / Oh, Valley of Plenty.” It was catchy, Merlin had to give him that. Moreover, he raised his eyebrows as most people started singing along . It was something he hardly ever got to witness at Camelot’s taverns, where most performers appeared once or twice and never came back. He stood there and listened to the story told by the man, pretty much melting in the good music and how poetic all the lyrics were. He also admitted to himself that he enjoyed the bard’s voice. He felt literal shivers running down his spine as it went loud and raspy once he got to the line that said: “ Now pour him some ale .”
He figured that the Witcher mentioned in the song so much must have been dear to the guy. He knew what it felt like to follow a leader who was a friend nonetheless. He sighed, thinking of Arthur. Eventually, he'll have to talk to him and complete the goddamn chores. He knew Arthur didn’t have it easy with his duties either. Most of all, he was his best friend. Merlin should come back to the camp soon enough.
By the time the song was finished and applause echoed through the tavern once again, Merlin was outside. He sat down on a bench nearby, wanting to take some of the cool air in for a little bit longer before he got back to a group of loud knights. He rested his head against the wall behind him and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. The people at the tavern got loud again, but muffled by the wall the sounds felt somewhat soothing. Merlin sighed.
Suddenly, the door shot open and he heard the sound of someone stumbling out of it.
“Goddamn peasants,” he heard the figure mutter. At first, he felt anger once again. Peasants. How could he? But then… “What am I even saying…” a pathetic chuckle came from the same direction and Merlin’s eyebrows furrowed in realization. It was the bard. He stayed quiet. “Stupid song, stupid people, stupid witcher… I don't even recognise myself anymore...” he kept on muttering, before he walked past Merlin and tripped over his legs, which he kept straightened out. The warlock winced as the man fell flat onto the grass and groaned. “Shit…”
“Oh gods, I’m sorry,” Merlin got up from the bench and walked over to him. “Are you alright?”
“Alright?” he chuckled. “Yeah, sure I am alright, mate, never been better,” he bit back sarcastically, but quite quickly he sighed and looked at him, sitting up. “I’m sorry, I don’t… I’m not always like that. I’m fine, and thank you,” he gave him a small smile and Merlin nodded, holding his hand out to help him up. The man accepted it and stood up to face him.
“Not your best night, is it?” Merlin tried to tease a little, keeping his tone polite, minding he is still talking to a stranger.
“Definitely not…” he looked down and then back at him. “Have you heard the song?”
“Yes, it was really good,” he said truthfully. To his surprise, the bard groaned .
“Everyone says that,” he complained. He must have noticed Merlin’s confusion, because he added: “I need to play it, because it’s my most known one, but…” he looked at him unsurely.
“You can tell me,” Merlin assured him, certain he can keep his secret. He was good at it. Keeping secrets.
“The Witcher, the goddamn White Wolf used to be my friend,” he explained. “Geralt was… well… I hoped we would… you know,” he looked at him, as if unsure, and Merlin did everything in his might to show him that he did, in fact, know. Better than he would want to. There was such a time with him and Arthur as well, he remembered, but not anymore. “And uh… recently he pretty much told me to fuck off,” he said. Merlin felt the urge to comment on his bad language, but he decided that would be even more inappropriate at that moment. The bard chuckled. “It’s a long story, but he left me on the top of a mountain,” he said.
“Oh…” Merlin hissed with compassion.
“Yeah…” he nodded “ Oh. ”
“Well… I’m sorry about all that. And about the song,” he said genuinely. He really was sorry. The long story felt like it could turn his point of view around, but for now all he saw was a devastated person, who got abandoned by someone they cared about deeply.
“It’s alright. I mean it is going to be,” he gave him a faint smile and after a moment, he chuckled more genuinely than before. “Where are my manners?” he held his hand out and his eyes seemed to sparkle in the faded light of fire and moonlight. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount of Lettenhove,” he introduced himself. “But uh… You can just call me Jaskier,” he smiled. Merlin returned the gesture.
“I’m Merlin,” he said and took Jaskier’s hand. It was weird, but he could swear he felt his magic tickle right where their skin had met. It was like a small, cheerfully pleasant feeling, one which made his smile turn into a grin. Jaskier grinned back, looking completely different from the image of a broken abandoned soul from just moments ago. “I should probably get back to the camp. I, uh… I’m Prince Arthur’s servant, we’re out on a mission with a few of his closest knights,” he nodded.
A part of him was screaming “No! Don’t tell him! He might be a traitor! A murderer!”, but the other part, the one that took over, was telling him that he could trust Jaskier.
The bard seemed to be quite surprised by the “Prince Arthur’s servant” part, and he nodded politely.
“Oh, yes, I understand,” he seemed a bit disappointed, but not in any concerning way. He just looked as if he knew this meant he wouldn’t have anyone to talk to for the rest of the night, or more. And he’s had a tough time behind. He cheered up a little a few seconds later. “But, hey, this doesn’t need to be a goodbye,” he said lightheartedly. “I will be performing at a tavern near Camelot's castle tomorrow night. I assume you wouldn’t need to take a long journey to get there, so… I just want you to know that you are invited and very much welcome,” he smiled and Merlin tilted his head, not yet sure what to say. “That is, of course, only if you want to.”
“Well, I guess we will have to wait and see, alright?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, of course. But just so you know, it’s going to be a rather powerful ballad.”
“Oh yeah?” Merlin crossed his arms, teasing the show-off part of Jaskier, which just got to the surface once again.
“Hmm, let’s just say it will be my way of taking revenge on the big grumpy witcher,” he winked. Merlin smirked, amusement appearing in his eyes.
“I shall do my best to be there to hear it, then,” he said.
“Please, do consider it. It would mean a lot to me.”
The genuineness in his words settled deep within Merlin’s mind and, once they shook hands and exchanged smiles once again, he took off towards the woods, leaving Jaskier to his lute and the few coins he had earned, which he will probably use to find a place to spend the night in.