Archive of Our Own ^beta

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. 

Chapter Text

“You and your taverns,” Arthur huffed, scribbling something out of the speech he was writing by his desk as Merlin made his bed. 

“Oh, come on, Arthur, it’s gonna be fun!” he insisted. “We go there on Fridays sometimes either way, what harm will it do you?”

“I have better things to do on a Friday night than listening to some random guy sing drinking songs, Merlin.”

“Oh, really?” he crossed his arms and leaned against a column of Arthur’s bed’s frame. “What if something happens to me?” Arthur looked up. “What? I hardly ever go there alone and I’ve only just met this guy.”

“Then don’t go,” Arthur muttered, looking back to the parchment in front of him.

“Come on, he said it was important to him,” Merlin carried on.

“You are literally asking for trouble, Merlin,” he replied, now with a hint of concern to his voice. 

“Not if you go there with me,” he replied, more softly now. “Please? I’ve heard him sing, he’s really good, I think even you would like it.”

Arthur crossed his arms on his chest and narrowed his eyes, sitting back in his chair. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Merlin groaned. “That you’re not that into art, that’s all,” he met his unsure gaze and sighed. “I swear, if anything goes wrong, this will be the last time I am asking you for such a thing.” 

Arthur took a longer moment to think, then finally sighed and gave in.

“Alright. But this is the last time if anything goes wrong,” he made sure, pointing at his manservant sternly. 

“You have my word, my lord,” he grinned. Arthur shook his head.

“Right, now go finish your work so we can at least go there without worrying I won’t have anything to wear throughout the next week,” he said. 

“Yes, Sire,” he said and left the chambers, happy he succeeded. 

By the time they got to the tavern it was completely dark. Merlin found himself disappointed by the fact that Camelot’s downtown’s air didn’t smell or feel half as wonderful as the one in the countryside he enjoyed so much. They stood near the door as Arthur stopped, clearly already trying to listen closely to the words being sung inside. Merlin smirked discreetly, recalling that’s what he did the first time as well. 

“Did you ever even care / With your swords and your stupid hair?” they heard Jaskier sing and Arthur raised an eyebrow at Merlin, who shrugged. 

“His revenge on a very specific individual,” he explained and the Prince rolled his eyes. 

“Now watch me laugh / As I burn / All the memories of you.”

“The one he wrote it about must have really left quite a sour taste in his mouth,” Arthur noticed. 

“He did,” Merlin said and his friend raised both his eyebrows this time, perhaps a bit put off by the “he”. 

Maybe he expected a “she”, Merlin couldn’t help but think. 

Finally, Arthur pushed the door open and they walked inside. They took their place by a table nearby and the tavern-keeper, Mary, rushed to clean their table as they were sitting down. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, you have been the most beautiful audience,” the bard said loudly, “Remember to toss a coin, if you can! If anyone needs me, I’ll be at the bar,” he winked jokingly. 

It was the moment when they had a chance to look at Jaskier’s clothes more carefully. He was wearing a leather, warm-brown coat and a hat with a feather. There was a white shirt peeking from underneath the upper layers and Merlin took the sight in with quite a lot of awe.

Jaskier turned around in the middle of the room. “What for d’yearn?” he sang, a wide, powerful smile on his face. “It’s the point of no return,” he continued, taking a few steps back. 

Jaskier looked and sounded great, especially with this victorious look on his face. Look, Geralt, that’s my revenge, the expression yelled. He looked powerful, majestic, even. 

Arthur wasn’t half as impressed. He looked at the man singing in front of them judgingly, narrowing his eyes as the smile made him think of the bard as even more suspicious. He was being confident. a little too confident, in Arthur’s opinion.

Jaskier leaned against one of the nearest tables nonchalantly. “After everything we did, we saw” One of the women sitting closest to him took the hat off his head and Merlin rolled his eyes, but then the bard moved on from his spot. “You turned your back on me / What for d’yearn?” he seemed to notice Merlin right at that moment, when he made the “yearn” part longer and melodic, as he walked a bit closer to their table, his and Merlin’s eyes meeting for a moment, before Arthur turned his head back to Merlin and frowned in slight disbelief.

“Him?” he asked, most likely referring to how eager Merlin was to see this… fool… perform. Mary smirked knowingly and Arthur saw Merlin blush, before the servant turned his head again, continuing to watch. 

“Watch that Butcher burn!” Jaskier sang loudly, one leg up on a table, head tilted backwards and waves of steam rising from where his hot breath met the cold air surrounding him, which, as a whole image, Merlin found extremely aesthetically pleasing. Jaskier jumped off the table and Merlin grinned, turning around a little to keep the man in sight, even as he roamed around the room, backwards, hovering above the lute as he strummed the strings with a powerful force. “At the end of my days, when I’m through.” Arthur grimaced, watching the way Merlin looked at him, all awed and impressed, getting dangerously close to transfixed, as Jaskier carried on, turning his face to their side of the room once again, as he got to a buildup “No word that I’ve written will ring quite as true as burn! Burn, Butcher, burn!” he got onto a table with one of his legs once again and Merlin turned to face Arthur. 

“See? Told you he was good,” he said, and Arthur couldn’t really disagree. That the man was really talented, was, indeed, obvious even to him. 

“Burn, Butcher, burn! Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn! Burn… burn…” Jaskier kept on repeating, quieter and quieter, as he fell down onto his knees and his lute got muted, his eyes overflowing with sadness and emotions overtaking his whole body. 

Even Arthur took a short break from drinking his mead and frowned, looking at him, wondering if he needed any help. There was silence for a moment. 

“Watch me burn…” he sang, almost in a whisper now, “all the memories… of… you,” he finished, and the moment he went silent, the room roared with yells, whistles and an overall applause. 

Merlin just took another sip of his mead, looking at the bard when no one else seemed to do so anymore. Jaskier smiled, he tried to smile, but it was a smile so forced and for-show that Merlin simply felt bad for him. He felt himself getting angry at the mysterious Geralt for whatever happened on that bloody mountain. Finally, Jaskier stood up, his smile brightened up a little once again, as if he just forgot what he even performed already, walked over to the bar to pick up his payment and then went straight to Merlin's and Arthur’s table. 

“You came,” he said to Merlin, his smile turned so genuine the warlock feared for himself not to blush too hard. 

“Of course, I told you I’d do my best to be here,” he replied, gaze fixed on Jaskier, until Arthur cleared his throat. “Right, sorry, Arthur, this is Jaskier, Jaskier, this is Prince Arthur,” he introduced them, showing each man with an open hand. Jaskier clearly got startled, giving Merlin his best "THE PRINCE?!" look. 

Arthur stood up and held his hand out to him. “That was an impressive performance,” he said, not sure what else he could start with.

“Thank you, my lord, those words mean a lot coming from a person like yourself,” Jaskier kept all of his politeness right at the surface, out to the world, easily visible to the royal standing right in front of him. “I… must say I’m quite surprised to see you.” 

“Why is that?” Arthur asked, frowning. 

“Well… Where I come from, it is fairly uncommon for a prince or king to be away from his Castle without the need, and especially not to go to a tavern performance alongside his manservant,” he said, still politely, letting out amused scoffs every few words.

“It is not as unusual here,” Merlin shook his head.

“Indeed.”

Arthur turned away to pay for their drinks and Jaskier cleared his throat quietly, getting Merlin’s attention. The warlock raised an eyebrow questioningly and Jaskier replied with the same, as well as a nod towards Arthur. Then he nodded towards Merlin. Then Arthur again.

Merlin blushed lightly and blocked a laugh.

“No, no, no,” he said. He wasn’t sure why he was even explaining himself, but he did feel a need to do so.

“What?” Arthur asked, getting back to them.

“Oh, um…” Merlin looked at Jaskier. “Jaskier asked if he could perform in the castle sometime and-”

“Well, I think it is a wonderful idea,” Arthur stated. Merlin froze.

“What?”

“What?” Jaskier echoed. Arthur chuckled. 

“You can perform at a feast sometime, if you have any…” he grimaced a little, looking at his lute, “suitable material to present.” 

“Oh, but of course, my lord, I have performed in royal courts before,” he grinned.

Arthur hummed. “And now you play in taverns.” Without waiting for an answer, he turned around and left.

Jaskier blinked. “That wasn’t too nice.”

“He’s many things, but being nice isn’t one of his main traits….”

“And you still stick by him?” he asked. Merlin’s smile faded a little and Jaskier found himself regretting causing it. 

“He’s my friend,” Merlin said, finally.

“I understand,” he nodded and let out a small laugh, pointing to his lute briefly. “Believe me, I do.”

“Right,” he chuckled. “Well then,” he took a pause, eyeing Jaskier shortly. “‘Till we meet again,” he smiled.

“I’m looking forward to that,” he bowed lightly, taking his hat off out of manners. 

Moments later, Merlin left the tavern and caught up with Arthur, ready to go home.

“You know, your comment about playing in taverns wasn’t too nice,” Merlin said, folding a few of Arthur’s shirts, as the Prince was getting ready for the night. 

“Well, was it not true?” he muttered, putting his keys away to a drawer.

“It was, but it doesn’t make it any less disrespectful,” he said.

“And who are you to teach me about respect, Merlin?” Even if he intended for it to sound strictly, it didn’t. It came out teasing, playful, maybe even affectionate. 

The tone made Merlin huff in warm amusement without even looking at Arthur. 

“Still… just… try not to do that without the need to, alright?” he asked somewhat softly, finally turning his eyes to him.

They held eye contact for a few silent seconds, and then Arthur sighed. 

“Alright. I will pay more attention to that,” he said. 

“Thank you,” he said, before they said goodnight and could retire. 

It’s not that Merlin suddenly started caring this much whether Arthur is polite to strangers in taverns. If he wanted to be rude - fine by Merlin! Perhaps less princesses will run around after him and less evil people will think of him as an easy target. He really didn’t care. But he had a soft spot for some kind of people, who’d been through a lot in their recent past and it looked like Jaskier was one of them. 

Chapter Text

Three weeks have passed since Merlin last saw Jaskier. Three extremely long and boring weeks. Fortunately, there have been no major attacks on Arthur during this time, but unfortunately there weren't many interesting events to look forward to, either. 

The most attention-worthy task Merlin had been completing was setting Arthur up for dates with Guinevere. He was happy for his friends, he really was. But from time to time the old, faded feelings towards Arthur would come back rushing at him in the form of irrational jealousy. 

Now, even if Arthur was the one to start something between them, Merlin would probably refuse. He didn't want anything more than his friendship anymore. 

That, however, didn't change the fact that he could use someone to just talk to about the stupid leftovers that seemed to still bother his heart. 

He would spend time with Gwaine sometimes, just to have some fun with someone who wasn't Arthur. But even though the Knight was one of Merlin's best friends, he didn't want to spill his most vulnerable feelings onto him.

It would have to be somebody else. 

And every time he tried to think of someone he could turn to, his thoughts always wandered towards the image of Jaskier flickering through his mind. 

He didn't admit to it, but he could say he almost missed the bard. 

He would understand, Merlin thought for some reason. He'd know what to say to make me laugh instead of feeling like this.

That day he walked into Arthur's chambers in the afternoon, humming some melody (which just happened to sound very similar to "Burn Butcher Burn") underneath his breath.

He put the laundry basket back on the floor next to Arthur's wardrobe and got 'round to taking care of the clean clothes. 

When the door opened, he didn't even turn to see who it was. He recognised the footsteps before Arthur got to the room in the first place. 

"Ah, Merlin!" he greeted him cheerfully. This time he did turn around, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

"What are you so happy about?" he chuckled. 

"Would you prefer to see me miserable instead?" Arthur teased.

"Of course not," he replied casually. "I'm just wondering what put this huge grin on your face." He turned back to the wardrobe, resuming his work. "Date with Gwen went well?"

"Very well, you could say. Although just my father not catching us is already a success on that matter," he said, walking towards his desk and leaning against it, arms crossed, face turned to Merlin with a smirk on it. "But that's not it."

Merlin turned to look at him.

"It's not?"

The Prince just shook his head. He looked extremely pleased with himself and there was something very teasing in the way he looked at Merlin. The Warlock sighed. 

"Alright, what is it, then? You're clearly dying to tell me, judging by how much you resemble a playful dog."

Arthur rolled his eyes, but smiled at him.

"We're planning a feast," he declared. Merlin’s smile disappeared in split seconds. There was always so much goddamn work with feasts, and they were nearly always pointless. "What's with that face?"

"You know how much I hate those," he groaned and shoved the last tunic onto a shelf, far more carelessly than any of the previous ones. 

"Well, I do, but there is a surprise involved," he said. 

"For…"

"For you."

Merlin blinked.

"You're joking. Or- Have you talked to Gaius today?" he stared into the distance for a second. "Am I dying?"

Arthur scoffed and took two steps towards him. 

"No, you're not dying. And I'm not joking. I just can't have you this bored and upset any longer, it…" he seemed lost for affectionate words, so instead he went for: "it makes your work less efficient."

"Thanks."

"It's Jaskier," Arthur said shortly and Merlin’s eyes widened.

"W-What about him?" he asked, avoiding Arthur's gaze. 

"He's going to perform, of course." He put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. "After all, I've made a promise, haven't I?" he smirked.

"I… suppose you have."

"Well, then." Arthur patted his shoulder and sat by his desk, about to start doing his paperwork. "The event is planned to take place in three days. Surely Guinevere can give you the details and you can take part in the preparations." Before Merlin could protest, Arthur looked up at him. "Don't you want to make sure he sees us and Camelot's court in the best light possible?"

Merlin didn't respond to that. He just swallowed roughly and marched out of the chambers, his whole face turning red at this point. Arthur chuckled and smirked at the door once he left, shaking his head in amusement and getting to work.

Three days later everyone was ready for the feast. The Knights were all in a great mood, deep in cheerful conversations, as they all waited for the rest of the guests to arrive. 

Everything looked beautiful. The decorations were giving the castle an amazing vibe and the chattering hearable everywhere, as well as the smells of all kinds of food encouraged people to attend the event more contently. 

"One could say," Arthur approached Merlin on the steps of the castle. "that there has never been a feast prepared with such dedication ever since you started working here." 

Merlin shot him a murderous glance.

"You could give it a rest already." 

"Merlin," he sighed. "I understand. All that." He looked around the decorated staircase. "Whatever you might have been concerned about, when it comes to me and whatever it is you think or feel about that guy is… You don't have to be. Concerned, that is." 

They spent a few seconds looking at each other. Arthur gave Merlin a genuine smile, which the Warlock returned, although with a hint of sadness to it.

It became clear for him, once and for all, that he never had a chance with Arthur.

But then again, it caused all his feelings that were left there to just evaporate, leaving enough space for something new to replace them with.

So, after all, Merlin's smile widened and reached his eyes, and both him and the Prince finally relaxed. 

Merlin took a deep breath of the cool evening air, turning his face towards the courtyard, expecting the guest he'd been waiting to see so much.

If it was fine by Arthur, he could give it a try, couldn't he?

Finally, he recognised the figure of Jaskier. He was riding a brown horse, crossing the square quite quickly and jumping off, giving the laces to the stable boy, alongside a silver coin, which gained him a grateful bow from the servant. 

The bard fixed his hat and lute, turning towards the castle, taking in the beauty of it, looking incredibly special and magical for the celebration. 

The occasion, mind you, was the birthday of Sir Leon. Arthur had somehow managed to convince Uther to let him organise it, since he's been a loyal knight to both of them for years now. And a thirtieth birthday only happens once in a lifetime. 

Once Jaskier took his time to admire the towers and outer corridors, his eyes reached the stairs and met Merlin’s. He smiled widely, receiving a similarly happy grin in return. 

Arthur looked at his friend and smiled, taking a step back, as Jaskier jogged up the stairs and stood in front of the two. 

"My lords," he said, bowing and taking his hat off politely. Merlin blushed at the unnecessary and incorrect title, but he bowed his head as well.

"It's good to see you again, Jaskier."

"The pleasure is all mine." He held his hand out to Merlin and once he took it to shake it, he lifted it up to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on the top of Merlin's hand. 

The servant's eyes widened and Arthur looked away, barely blocking laughter, perfectly aware of Merlin’s lack of experience and confidence in any complex relationships. 

"My Prince," Jaskier bowed his head once again, turning to Arthur officially. 

"Welcome back," he smiled politely. "Have you been far from Camelot recently?"

"Not that much," he admitted. "Merely travelled through the neighbouring kingdom, my lord."

"Cenred's kingdom?" 

"I believe so, yes."

"Well, if you're interested in learning more about it, you should probably talk to Merlin. He grew up there."

"Really?" Jaskier smiled, looking at Merlin again.

"Yes.”

"I'd love to hear more about it after my performance, if that's alright," he offered.

"Of course, I'll gladly tell you more."

Not long after that, they were in the Throne Room alongside all other guests. Everyone got to their places and the atmosphere was full of mirth. Arthur raised a toast to sir Leon and announced a performance of a bard well-known past Albion's borders, which earned Jaskier a fairly considerable amount of attention from the curious people of Camelot. 

He bowed low, smiling, as he positioned his lute better and nodded at the few other musicians that were supposed to support the melody with other instruments. 

Merlin stood near a pillar, not far from the table where the Knights were seated, looking at the musicians with curiosity and anticipation. 

"Oh fishmonger, oh fishmonger / Come quell your daughter's hunger," Jaskier started, in a calm yet positive tone, before he sped up to sing: " To pull on my horn as it rises in the morn / For 'tis naught, but bad luck to fuck with a puck ," which caused half of the guests to laugh, while the other half blinked with confusion. Luckily for Jaskier, the royal family and the most important Knights joined the first one. 

Not Merlin, though. He was definitely in the second.

" Lest your grandkid be born a hairy young faun, " he continued, grinning, before the song sped up. " Bleating and braying all day, hey ho / The fishmonger's daughter, ba ba "

The last part repeated itself many times over, speeding up with every moment, making more and more people from the audience clap and sing along, some couples even getting up to dance around cheerfully. Even Uther seemed to grin, enjoying the pure entertainment that was the goal of this song. 

Soon the lyrics turned into as much as repeated " Ta-da-da-da, ta-da-da "s, as Jaskier swirled around the room, making a certain and correct impression of a man doing something that is second nature to him. 

Merlin wasn't too amused. Of course, he smiled seeing Jaskier so happy and all his loved ones having fun, but he couldn't help the disappointment he felt about the song. Toss A Coin was pretty good. People liked it, because it spoke of a journey that was important both to Jaskier and the people from his land. Burn Butcher Burn had so much lyrical power, so much feeling and emotion hidden behind the music, that brought shivers to the spines of everyone who had heard the ballad.

This song was… just for dancing. It had a great rhythm, but nothing more whatsoever. And as far as Merlin was aware of the need for such songs to exist, he was really hoping for something that would once again make it unable for him to tear his eyes away from Jaskier, something that would force him into a smile and that would put the heard melody in his head for days. He was hoping he would once again experience music the way he saw it - as a form of magic. 

This wasn't magic. This was just a drinking song, as Arthur once said. A creation completely unfitting its creator, who literally bowed to kiss Merlin’s hand gently not even an hour earlier.

Once the song was finished, a round of applause ran across the room. Jaskier bowed and smiled at Leon and the Pendragons. Uther expressed his contentment with the bard’s performance and Jaskier got an offer to work as the Camelot's court's main bard regularly, which he promised to think through before nightfall the next day. 

"Very well," Uther said. "Thank you, what should we call you, boy?"

"Jaskier, my lord."

"Since you're to consider my offer for a day, Jaskier, you are free to stay as a guest in the castle tonight. Would you like that?"

"It would be a great honour to me, your grace. Thank you."

"Good." Uther looked at his son, who nodded in agreement. "Arthur's servant will take you to your chambers. I trust we'll be able to speak about your decision tomorrow?"

"Yes, my lord, you have my word."

Chapter Text

When Jaskier and the King were finally done exchanging polite remarks and agreements, Jaskier turned to Merlin and grinned. Merlin nodded and they left the Throne Room, walking towards the stairs.

The corridors were almost empty, apart from a few couples who sneaked out of the feast in order to find some privacy alongside the walls of the quiet castle. 

Finally, they got to the chambers. Merlin walked up to the bed, intending to prepare it for the night. 

“There’s no need, I can do it myself!” Jaskier rushed to stop him. 

“It’s nothing, really, just give me a minute,” he said shortly. He didn't even look at him. 

"So, what do you think?" Jaskier asked, breaking the slightly awkward silence which suddenly fell upon them.

"About what?" He tried to speak kindly, but 'polite' is most one could get from his tone. It was silly, he thought, how much disappointment he felt at such a detail, which that bloody song was.

"About the job offer I just got," he said, laying his hat on the table and taking off his coat. 

"Why would my opinion matter?" Merlin asked genuinely. 

"Well… I want to take it."

"Then do so." 

"Merlin."

He stopped in his tracks. It was the first time Merlin heard Jaskier say his name and, good gods, he barely managed to stop himself from kissing him at the spot.  

Instead, he turned to look at him.

"I don't want to take this offer if it's going to be any problem for you. Seeing me around here daily," Jaskier explained, almost shyly.

"It's not a problem," Merlin said in all honesty. "It would be great to see you more often."

Jaskier smiled, but didn’t miss Merlin's lack of enthusiasm.

"What's the matter?"

Merlin took a short glimpse at Jaskier's lute, but shook his head and resumed fixing the pillows.

"Nothing."

"It's about the song, isn't it?" he asked softly, with a tiny bit of amusement. Merlin looked at him again, finished with the bed. "Come on, I paid attention to you. You didn't like it."

Merlin didn't even protest, because Jaskier's statement was absolutely emotionless and he seemed to not care in the slightest about what anyone could think about the trivial song. 

"It's… not what I expected."

"Understandable." He looked outside the window. "In my years of creating music, I've learnt that in courts, or in big happy celebrations, no one wants their mind dragged away from the pure fun of it," he said. Merlin let himself sit at the edge of the bed as he listened. "This song has literally no meaning. Not to me, not to the goddamn fishmonger and definitely not to his daughter."

"Real person?" Merlin asked. Jaskier looked at him.

"Yeah, but she pulled on many horns," he joked, which made them both scoff. "But it's really just so those bloody lords and royals have something to bop their heads to so their mood is better and they get more lenient towards their employees."

"Not a fan of royalty, then, are you?" 

"Not a fan of arseholes," he stated, his jaw clenching, as his angry eyes drifted towards Merlin. "And Uther Pendragon is definitely one of them. I heard people talk. Heard stories."

Merlin looked towards the door nervously, then back at Jaskier. 

"Perhaps he is, but it doesn't mean you should speak of it aloud," he hissed. "He'd have your head if the wrong people heard."

Jaskier sighed and his expression softened. 

"What about Arthur? Surely he has to be better than his tyrant father, since he deserves to call you his friend."

Merlin smiled at that uncontrollably.

"Yeah…” he looked down, recalling Kilgharrah’s many words about the future of the kingdom. His eyes wandered back up towards Jaskier. “He will be the greatest king Camelot has known, and he will unite the lands of Albion." His voice was confident, stating what seemed to be obvious to him, what was obvious to him. 

Jaskier frowned. To him it wasn’t obvious at all.

"How can you be so sure?" 

This was foolishness. Complete, utter, unimaginable foolishness.

And yet, Merlin stood up, walked up to the door and locked it, then he stood back in front of Jaskier. 

"The word witcher …" he started hesitantly. "has to do with magic?" he asked quickly, holding his breath.

"Well, obviously… But where I come from magic isn't… treated the way it is around here," he said quietly. Merlin seemed to still search for something in his eyes. The Bard seemed to catch that as he stared right back because, finally, he added: "His magical side was one of the most impressive and powerful ones he had, he used it to save people and creatures,” he explained.

Something was telling him he already knew what he was about to hear.

Just as if the universe wanted to provide him an answer, the servant seemed to relax once he heard his words.

"I have magic." 

Silence. He still had no idea why he said it.

"And you're… Arthur's manservant…" Jaskier whispered, definitely concerned. 

Fuck. That was a close one.

…and since when does Merlin think “Fuck”? 

He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

"More than that… It’s… We are destined to fulfill the prophecy I mentioned… together."

"Fuck no, not another destiny talk," Jakier groaned. "I'm done with those."

Merlin grinned in amusement. He knew it. He just felt that Jaskier would understand.

"I'm… destined to be the most powerful sorcerer in history and help him bring the Golden Age upon all of Albion."

"But…" Jaskier hesitated. "Why are you here now, when Uther is still king?"

Merlin sighed.

"Arthur needs my protection. And help. I need to keep him alive and help him become the person he needs to be in order to fulfill his destiny."

Jaskier studied the younger man's face for a longer while, until Merlin blushed slightly and stepped back to sit down on the bed again once it became intimidating. 

"That's… I'm sorry…"

"Don't be. It is what I was born to do." He gave him a small smile. He scoffed, trying to loosen the atmosphere. "Got any songs for that?" he asked, looking down at the floor, staring at the markings on the stone as silence filled the room once again.

"I can’t wait to show you / How much I know you can be ," Jaskier started singing quietly but clearly, much to Merlin's surprise. The Warlock's eyes shot up towards him. " Just let the rain come / Let the rain come down, down, darling / Can’t you hear it howling at you / It’s calling, " he smiled. "Calling."

Silence. Just for a few seconds. Merlin stared at him, bewildered.

"Please, sing a bit more of it," he found himself asking.

Jaskier straightened his posture and regained a bit of his confidence. 

"See? Most of my songs do have meanings."

Merlin rolled his eyes in amusement.

The next verse was a tiny bit stronger.

" I look into the waters / Long ago that current caught us and we tried / I tried I really fucking tried " Merlin felt himself shivering again. " But the rain kept coming down / And I watched that woman drown, " Jaskier sang, eyes closed. Merlin looked down, his mind taking him back to Freya for a moment. " Shoulder the sky / Open those eyes / There’s a kind of calling / Calling ."

"That's beautiful, Jaskier," he admitted. One more exchange of smiles. Suddenly, the memory of the feast song vanished into thin air.

There was something amazing about hearing Jaskier sing with no instruments helping him out with the melody. It was only his voice cutting through silence, all the sounds coming from deep within his heart and soul. All of this was him. Such a simple action in theory was able to be so powerful once it was practiced by the right person.

The Bard sat down next to Merlin, settling down comfortably until he dropped onto his back with a sigh. 

"So," he started, which made the servant look at him. "What's the rest of the story?"

"What do you mean?" he laid down backwards as well, next to Jaskier, both of them looking at the ceiling. 

"The songs told you a part of mine," he muttered.

"Are you asking about me and Arthur?" 

"Yes. Why is it that you are destined to be together, yet he decides to woo his sister's lovely serving girl instead?"

Merlin huffed at that.

"Gwen is my good friend. I'm happy for both of them. And she'll be a great queen someday."

"Mmm," Jaskier hummed, not entirely convinced. "Have you always thought so?" It was a little bit teasing. There you go, then , Merlin thought. He knows about his magic. It can't get worse.

"No," he said. "I was first, but… Him and Gwen… it was so special and made him so..." he trailed off. 

"Hey, it's alright. You're not the first one and not the last," Jaskier tried to comfort him, turning his head to face him.

"So…" Merlin rolled onto his side to look at him. "It was no different? With you and Geralt?"

"Nah," he shrugged, looking back at the ceiling. "It's quite the same old story. A boy falls in love with a friend, who could never love a…"

"A boy," Merlin finished. Jaskier's smile faded.

"Yeah."

There was silence again, this time for a few minutes. They both looked at the ceiling, listening to the faded sounds of night, completely relaxed in each other's company. Naturally. As if they've known each other for years. They did not, but somehow they started growing to like that. It was Merlin who spoke first after that.

"For quite a long time Arthur was convinced I had affections for his sister."

"Oh," was the only reply he got from the bard.

"He was right, for a while," he confessed.

"...Oh…" Jaskier frowned slightly. "Um... What happened, then?"

Merlin chuckled, which made him smile.

"She could never love a boy either."

Jaskier laughed at that, his head tilting backwards as he wasn't able to control his amusement. Oh, sweet irony. Merlin joined in. 

"For Geralt," Jaskier said, once they calmed down a bit, "there was also a woman. A witch, actually. Yennefer." 

"Hmm?" For a moment Merlin considered telling him that Morgana was a witch as well, but decided it was not his place to give her secrets away like that.

"It's a long story, but it's interesting."

"I have time," Merlin said. They looked at each other and smiled.

So Jaskier told him. All about Geralt, about Yennefer, about the Child Surprise ("That's such a weird tradition! Why take so much risk?"), about the monsters ("And I thought Wilddeorens were scary…") and what Witchers are at all. Once he was done with that, he asked Merlin to tell him more about Gwen. So he did ("Yikes, she seems to deserve better."). Then Jaskier told him of a few other adventures he’s had. Then Merlin. Then the cycle repeated itself. And it went on and on this way, until the last candle in the room burnt out and orange-y light started slowly spilling inside through the window. It wasn’t until then that they realised they spent the whole night telling each other stories about how destiny fucked up their lives hundreds of times over. 

"Oh god, I'm so sorry I took so much of your time," Merlin said, sitting up, eyes wide and panicking a little, as Jaskier was a royal guest, after all. He might not have dreamt of spending his whole night with a manservant of all people.

"Hey, Merlin, it's alright, I'm having a great time," Jaskier comforted, sitting next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder.

Merlin sighed with relief and relaxed again. They both dropped back down onto the mattress, starting to feel the lack of sleep affecting their energy.

"I still have a bit of time before I have to wake Arthur up," he said. "He never gets up before the sun is well up."

"That's good."

"It is?"

"Well, of course." He looked at him. "This way you can still tell me something interesting."

When Merlin chuckled, Jaskier rolled onto his side so he could see and listen to him better.

The Warlock looked back at him, raised an eyebrow and considered something for a moment, before finally speaking.

"In this song, the one that sounds as if it was about destiny…" 

“It is about destiny.”

“Oh…” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling delicately. “Well then…” He looked at the man next to him and tried to find the right words. Jaskier was clearly focused and, in the light of morning, lighting up his side in warm tones, he looked breathtakingly beautiful. "...you sang that he tried. To fulfil it. Whatever it takes."

"Mhm, yes," he confirmed quietly.

"Maybe in one of the other verses you could make it obvious… how hard it gets." He saw that Jaskier didn't exactly see where he was going. "I mean… He's been looking for a purpose his whole life, hasn't he? And it didn’t turn out to be easy at all."

Jaskier frowned slightly.

"No."

"But he finds… meaning… in what tears him apart."

Jaskier took a deeper breath through his nose and nodded slowly. 

"I was thinking…” Merlin took a longer pause, but he was patient. “He’s been burning.” The Bard’s frown deepened. And… the way he burnt seemed to be… blinding… but then he realised he needed the light to guide him to his destination. I mean… destiny." He did feel vulnerable. Sharing this with him. These thoughts he’s held in secret for so long. From his mother, from Gaius, from everyone. 

Jaskier stared into his eyes for a moment and then, without a word, he stood up, walked up to the table, where he left the only bag he had with him, took out a piece of parchment and wrote down a few lines.

Merlin stood up as well, standing steps away from Jaskier. 

“It’s moving,” Jaskier admitted, not looking up from the parchment. Moved was, indeed, the best word to describe how he looked to Merlin at that moment. “And really well thought of,” he added, more casually, looking at the Warlock and smiling with sympathy and the sort of understanding that surprised them both multiple times throughout the night. The look was almost soft and Merlin nearly hugged him. “You have the soul of a poet, Merlin. The way I see it.” 

He smiled. After a few seconds, though, it became a little too much. 

"I should get going."

"You sure?" Jaskier asked, looking towards the window. God, his face really did look gorgeous in sunlight, and Merlin had just realised he has never seen him in daylight before. "The sun is… not well up yet."

Merlin huffed at his poor excuse, but it did warm his heart. Knowing that he was ready to come up with details just so he would stay longer.

"I need to check if Gaius doesn't need my help before my work. And he's probably worried." 

"Well… I’m going to accept Uther's offer," Jaskier nodded. Merlin’s face lit up with a bright smile, which the Bard returned. "And since I'll be staying here… you are welcome to drop by anytime." 

Merlin smiled and bowed his head.

"Have a good day, Jaskier."

"You too, Merlin." 

Once the Warlock left the room, Jaskier smiled and sat by the table, fitting Merlin’s lines into the song's lyrics, intending to finish it by the end of the day. 

Chapter Text

"You look happy, Merlin," Arthur noticed, working on his paperwork as his manservant entered his chambers with a skip in his step. 

"Well, you could say that I am," he grinned, pulling the used sheets off Arthur's bed.

"I'm glad." He put everything down and looked at Merlin with narrowed eyes. "Could it possibly be about a specific artist who's been living among us in the past days?"

It was true, Jaskier has lived in the castle for almost a week now. Uther hasn't given him an order to switch chambers, so he stayed in the one Merlin initially led him to. He got himself some new, suitable clothes and other essentials in the market. One could say, he settled down.

And many could say that it made Merlin extremely cheerful.

"Possibly it could," he smirked.

"Things moving forward, then, I assume?"

Merlin rolled the bedsheets in his arms.

"I've a feeling that this big amount of teasing in your voice means that you are asking for a reason for me spending my nights in Jaskier's chambers." Arthur blushed, not wanting Merlin to feel like he was abusing his personal life too much. "Whatever you're thinking is wrong," Merlin said, smiling, as he put the sheets he was holding into a basket and reached for clean ones.

"What?" Arthur blinked. He could have sworn-

"I go to him and we talk. I either go back to my place in the middle of the night or I fall asleep on the bed and he takes some other furniture," he explained. 

"Huh," Arthur's eloquent reply was. "I have to admit, I haven't thought of him as that much of a gentleman."

"Arthur," he chuckled, walking up to the Prince's desk and leaning against it, his hands on the papers. "If it was what you thought it was, I probably wouldn't walk into your chambers so easily."

Now Arthur really blushed.

"Get back to your work, Merlin," he bit back.

He smirked, but before he could think of a comeback, there was a knock on the door, so he stood straight and turned back to the basket.

“Enter,” Arthur said, clearing his throat. Merlin chuckled silently. “Good morning, Father,” he added, standing up, once he recognised the visitor. Merlin turned to face the King and bowed his head.

“It is a good morning indeed,” Uther grinned, and the two already knew it wouldn’t be to them. 

“May I ask why that would be?”

“We are organising a feast again,” he announced. 

Arthur and Merlin exchanged frowns.

“Am I… forgetting some important occasion?” the Prince asked.

“Not at all, you couldn’t have possibly heard of it yet, that is why I am here. However I do think that from now on you shall remember it very well.”

He seemed so content it felt unnatural and scary. 

“Why?”

“The feast - or rather - the ball, if you will, is going to be a chance for you to pick yourself a lady or princess to marry.”

Merlin dropped the basket. Arthur held his breath.

“I… don’t think-”

“Too bad, if I were you, I would at least try to do so, or you are going to end up in a marriage you haven’t thought through.” 

“With all due respect, my lord, I wasn’t, in fact, planning on getting married anytime soon,” Arthur tried politely.

“Nonsense. It is your duty to the kingdom and you’ve known this ever since you could talk, or even earlier than that.” Uther waved him off. 

“But Father-”

“Arthur, for your own good, I am suggesting that you do not go against me in this,” he said, dropping the humorous diversion and going back to his kingly manner.  Arthur sighed, but nodded briefly. “Good.” He turned around and walked towards the door, but then stood still and looked at them again. “The ball is going to take place the day after tomorrow.” Arthur nodded. Uther turned to Merlin. “Will you tell Jaskier to prepare a song to honour our noble guests and their daughters?”

Merlin’s eyes widened, but he nodded.

“Of course.”

Uther returned the nod and left.

“At least I’m not the only one who thinks there is a reason for your night escapades,” Arthur remarks, sitting down, helplessly trying to get the subject off the ball. Merlin tilted his head without a word. The Prince looked at him and sighed. “I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be… It’s a lot to take in and make peace with,” he replied, with as much sympathy and support in his voice as he can afford.

“I just… don’t understand why I have to do this. You know… I’m happy with how it is now, between me and Guinevere.” He took a pause, fidgeting with one of his rings. His mother’s. “I don’t want some noble woman to come between us.” 

“I know,” he said.

He didn’t either.

Once upon a time.

“You can go, Merlin,” he said softly. “I’d like to be alone now.”

The Warlock nods, but gives him a gentle smile, followed by a soft “If you need me later, you know where to find me.”

Arthur huffed with amusement.

“In Jaskier’s chambers?”

“ Have a good day, Sire, ” he bantered back, leaving the room with a smile on his face.

“Jaskier!” he called, entering said man’s chambers without knocking. Why would he knock?

Oh .

“Merlin! Hey!” the Bard grinned, standing next to the window, next to an open closet. Shirtless .

Merlin pulled himself together quickly (although far from effortlessly) and closed the door, walking a few steps further into the room. 

“You need to write a song,” he said.

“Are you the voice in my head?”

“No, but I am the Prince’s servant and his father gave me clear instructions.”

“So that’s why you’re here? The King’s orders?” he smirked.

Merlin rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“No, you ass, I’m here because I missed your stupid, bad jokes.”

“Sure thing.” He finally put a shirt on. Was ‘finally’ the right word? Because Merlin couldn’t really tell if it made things better or worse- “So, what kind song does our beloved king need?” He walked up to Merlin and it was one of his most graceful walks ever since they met.

“Well, he is organising a ball.” Jaskier groaned. “But I think it might have potential.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, unconvinced.

“Yeah, I mean… the ball is being organised for Arthur, so he can find himself a future queen. Yes, I know,” he added when he saw Jaskier grimace. “However, just because you don’t like it - as don’t I - doesn’t mean we don’t have to do our jobs, so I am bringing you an order to write a song to honour the guests.”

“The ladies?” Jaskier tilted his head. Merlin did not like the sound of him saying that, but nodded either way. “I don’t think I have any suitable-”

“What about the one you started writing about Yennefer?” 

The Bard laughed.

“Oh no, no, no, no, no. There is no way in hell I’m singing this in front of people. And besides, I only have the chorus. It’s like - three lines, Merlin!” he whined.

“I know, I know,” he sighed. “But… you have two days, so-”

“ TWO DAYS?”

“I, um…” he blinked. “Yes?”

“He thinks I’ll have a song ready in two days?!” he scoffed. “For the royal court?!” 

“You’re being dramatic, Jask, I’ve seen you come up with lines and music on the spot, as if you were bloody possessed.” 

“Yeah, well, one doesn’t choose when that happens!”

“Calm down, you can do this. Just- Try to actually focus instead of… whatever we’re doing right now.” he said, taking one more step towards him and putting a hand on his shoulder. Jaskier took a deep breath and tensed, looking at Merlin. “There you go,” he smiled. “I can help you, alright? If you want me too.”

“Yes, please,” he answered shortly.

Merlin smiled wider and let go of his shoulder.

“I need to go help Gaius, but I’ll be back in the evening. We’ll finish this song, I promise.”

“Thank you, Merlin.”

They exchanged smiles again and both returned to their work for the day.

The sun was just starting to set when Merlin came back to Jaskier’s chambers.

“Come on! I’ll show you what I have so far!” he called excitedly, standing up and walking around the table, just to pull a chair out for Merlin.

“Thank you,” he chuckled. “Well, let’s see it.” He took the parchment that was laying in front of him and read the first verse, as well as the chorus he’s already known before. “Good, it’s really good, Jask,” he said, truthfully.

“You think so? Isn’t it a bit too…” he struggled for a moment. “Not-so-honouring to women?” 

“I think they’d rather feel empowered,” Merlin chuckled. And then he smirked. He had an idea… “Actually, I think I know who we should ask for an honest opinion.”

“You know I’m not good with poetry, Merlin,” Morgana said, as she followed him back to the Bard’s bedroom.

“I know,” he grinned, turning to them and continuing to walk backwards. “But I am. Besides, I assume not all of the ladies at the ball are into poetry or music either.” He started walking next to her again.

“I still think Gwen would be a better person to ask.”

Merlin looked down, his smile fading a bit.

“I don’t really want to talk to her about this feast now,” he said.

“Understandable,” she nodded. “But have you perhaps considered that you might be doing her more harm than good? You and other people, who started acting this way.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Your behaviour definitely doesn’t suggest nothing will change between her and Arthur. It’s actually quite the opposite-”

“Because it will change between them, Morgana,” he cut her off, a bit more harsh than intended. “Sorry. You know very well that if it depended on me, neither of them would be hurting because of this.”

“I know, Merlin,” she said softly, genuinely. “Maybe it will work out fine in the end?”

He smiled, putting his hand on the door.

“Maybe.” He pushed it open. 

“Lady Morgana,” Jaskier greeted, bowing his head to her.

“Jaskier,” she smiled. “Heard you might need my help?”

“An opinion, mostly, my lady,” he said. “Here is the song we are writing for the feast.” He gave her the piece of parchment and she read it quickly. 

“Hm. It… I suppose it depends on the interpretation,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s good. It looks like a good song. And it does hold some power in it. But, if you ask me, I think it could use a bit more of the man… or - men - rather, admitting that women have this power you were trying to describe.”

Merlin and Jaskier exchanged a look that could definitely be a way of admitting it.

“Like… If he openly sang that he’s no match? That she’s in control?” Merlin asked her.

“I don’t know, Merlin, if you want advice with poetry, go to Gwen, and if you want help with writing the most cliche things ever created, go to Arthur. I can’t really put myself in the place of a lady or princess who’s waiting for a knight in shining armour.” 

They both nodded. She was right. It wasn’t for her. And probably not for Gwen. But then again, they were nothing like the typical princesses and ladies. 

“Right, I’m sorry, you’re right, Morgana,” Merlin said, taking the parchment from her. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“Absolutely no problem,” she smiled. “I’m wishing you good luck with that.” She looked at him again. “I will see you at dinner tonight?” 

“We’ll be there.”

Once she left, Jaskier groaned.

“I don’t know, Merlin, what if most of these girls will be like her?” he whined.

“Nah,” he smirked. “There’s no one like her.” It made Jaskier smile.

“What should we do then?” he asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed. 

“What she said,” he shrugged. “Make it obvious that they’re the capable ones here.”

“They are,” he grinned after a moment.

“True.”

“Alright.” He got up. “But only if you stay and write it with me,” he smiled in this stupid, charming way of his.

Merlin scoffed with amusement.

“Fine.”

“ The fairer sex, they often call it / But her love's as unfair as a crook,” Jaskier sang at the feast, nearly two days later. “It steals all my reason, commits every treason / Of logic with naught but a look.”

Merlin was a bit disappointed to have had to miss most of the performance. Arthur was constantly surrounded by women, all of them quite desperate to spend time with him and convince him they were the ones he should make his bride.

And Merlin obviously needed to save him a few times.

“Gods,” Arthur gasped once they finally managed to hide in the corridors near the Throne Room for a moment. “This is a disaster, Merlin.” The old Arthur would never admit to how much he feared a group of noble ladies at that moment. And still… “I am horrified ,” he confessed. Merlin’s brows arched in sympathy. “Damn my heart and happiness, but I don't even know which one of them would make as much as a decent queen, let alone a great one.”

Merlin sighed quietly.

“Do you think Gwen could be one?”

There was sadness in Arthur’s eyes for a moment.

“Perhaps. Look,” his tone came back to slight panic, “I do not care about this ball anymore. They were all… I mean - the princess Elena? Sophia? And what is Vivian doing here, for goodness’ sake?!”

“She'll destroy with her sweet kiss, her sweet kiss, oh-ohh,” they heard from the Throne Room and Merlin’s eyes landed on Jaskier immediately. 

Arthur snapped his fingers right in front of his face.

“Merlin, are you listening to me?” he gritted through his teeth.

“W-what? Oh,yes, Sire,” he nodded.

“Well then, go and check if there is anyone worth my attention.”

He was about to nod and walk away, when Arthur grabbed his elbow. Their eyes locked.

“And come back here instead of staring at the court bard,” he warned. And then he let him go.

He sighed and stood at the entrance, looking around. Nothing. All of the ladies and princesses were circling around the knights and noblemen, catching all opportunities whenever Arthur was out of sight. Merlin shook his head. 

But then he found Gwen. He’s been expecting to see her upset at this celebration, if present at all. And yet, there she was, talking to a young woman and laughing with her. 

He paid more attention to the woman. 

She was dressed neatly. He’d say she was more likely to be a princess than a lady, but he didn’t know the names of royalty from the neighbouring kingdoms. Except for Cenred’s, that is, but his looks didn’t quite match up to the ones this woman had.

There was something about her eyes that drew Merlin in. He had a feeling that she might be important, a feeling that she could be the right person to rule Camelot. 

Besides, she came all the way here for Arthur, and she and Guinevere are getting along. 

Could there be a better candidate in the room? 

Merlin smirked, congratulating himself in his thoughts. Before he turned the corner again in order to share his thoughts with Arthur, he looked at Jaskier again. The Bard saw him as well and smiled, as he sang the ending of the second verse.

“I'm weak, my love, and I am wanting / If this is the path I must trudge / I'll welcome my sentence, give to you my penance / Garroter, jury, and judge.”

“And?” Arthur whispered, appearing at Merlin’s side. 

“I think I might have found who you are looking for,” he said, pointing in the direction of the two women still laughing.

“Very funny, Merlin.”

“Not Gwen, you dollophead, the one she’s talking to!” 

He looked at Arthur. The Prince’s eyes seemed to fill with hope, a slight smile flickering across his face.

“Princess Mithian,” he said, certainly content. “She is my friend. I thought she wouldn't come!”

“There you go, then,” he smiled. 

“Thank you, Merlin,” he replied. He patted Merlin on the back and walked up to Gwen and Mithian, joining into the conversation smoothly.

Merlin smiled and took a deep breath. He looked at the performing bard once more. 

“The story is this: / She'll destroy with her sweet kiss,” he finished. 

Merlin clapped his hands with the rest of the audience, smiling wide.

He was about to walk up to him and congratulate him after the performance, but his smile vanished way faster than it appeared, the moment he realised someone was faster.

The ladies really were catching all possible options when Arthur was out of sight.

Apparently, so was Jaskier. 

“Merlin, my boy, what happened?” Gaius asked, looking up from his book once he entered the chambers.

He couldn’t understand why his eyes were so glassy. Why so many emotions bottled up inside him at that moment. But there must have been a reason. There was a reason. He just didn’t want to admit to the fact that an image of Jaskier and that woman kissing was what it took to make him feel so bad.

“Sorry, Gaius,” he said weakly, not sure what to do with himself.

“Oh, come here,” he replied, walking up to him and closing him in a fatherly embrace.

Merlin tightened the hug, burying his face into Gaius’ shoulder. 

“Love is stupid,” he muttered. He wasn’t sure if what he felt towards Jaskier was love. Frankly speaking, he was absolutely sure it wasn’t love, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew himself. His heart. He knew what was starting to grow inside it.

“No, my boy,” Gaius said, pulling away. “Love is not stupid.” He fixed Merlin’s neckerchief a bit. “It’s just that, unfortunately, sometimes it chooses the wrong time.”

“Or the wrong person,” Merlin sighed.

“I’m afraid that might be true,” he admitted. “Do you want to go to your bedroom?”

Merlin nodded.

“Thank you, Gaius.”

“You don’t have to thank me, Merlin,” he said, caressing the side of his head shortly. “Just promise me to take care of yourself, alright? In every way.”

He smiled softly.

“I promise.”

“I’ll prepare your favourite breakfast in the morning,” he smiled. “Get some rest.”

Merlin just hugged him again, went straight to his bedroom and closed the door.

Three times the charm , they say.

This was the second time he’s been lured into an illusion of a future love that could never be reciprocated. 

Never again. 

Chapter Text

Arthur ran towards his chambers, cursing under his breath every few moments. He spent the whole night at Gwen’s.

Uther surely wouldn’t be pleased to hear that. Luckily, however, he and Gwen weren’t alone.

After joining the conversation between Mithian and Guinevere the evening before, Arthur quickly recalled how much he enjoyed the Princess’ company back when they were younger. 

Initially, when he started feeling something he classified as a crush on Mithian, nearly an hour into the conversation, he panicked. Because he was standing next to Gwen, next to the woman he loves, and yet… 

He started sweating and shifting nervously, guilt building up in him. He knew he would have to do what is right for the kingdom. If he ever fell in love with Mithian, he would break his lover’s heart. 

But then the Princess excused herself for a few minutes and he looked at Gwen. She blushed as she looked at him and he could swear she felt guilty about something too.

He got there surprisingly quickly. She liked her. Not only the way he hoped she would like his wife, but she liked her. They have talked about this before, he knew she liked girls as well sometimes. And he learnt to recognise it when she did. 

Now he wasn’t even sure how it happened, but in the end all three of them ended up in Guinevere’s house near the castle. Just talking the night away. Like Merlin said he sometimes did with Jaskier.

Speaking of which, Arthur also felt guilty for not coming home, because surely Merlin must have been concerned, or had waited for him and he never showed up. With that in mind, he stormed into his room. 

“I know, I know, Merlin, I’m sorr-” 

He froze, as there was not a soul in his chambers. He let out a relieved sigh, grateful he wouldn’t have to listen to Merlin ranting about how worried he’s been. 

But then it was Arthur who started worrying. Where was Merlin, if not at work? He frowned and left as quickly as he entered, immediately setting his pace into a rather quick one, getting to Gaius’ chambers’ door moments later. He knocked on it. 

Silence. 

He slowly pushed the door open and walked inside. The window was open and the bright daylight was flowing inside, bringing a cheerful atmosphere upon the room. Arthur heard birds sing and saw herbs hanging on the walls move as a result of gentle wind flying into the chambers. 

Still, though, there was no Gaius, nor Merlin. 

He put his hand on his sword, just in case, and took a few steps further. Finally, he found a piece of folded paper on one of Gaius’ tables. The message was in sight right away, which is why Arthur let himself read it.

Merlin, I did not wake you up on purpose. You should get some rest. Don’t worry, I’ll find a way to explain it to Arthur. I left you breakfast in the cupboard. I’ll be back in the afternoon.     - Gaius. 

Arthur sighed, seeing the part mentioning him. Was he really that bad of a master? The letter dripped in sympathy and the Prince realised he didn’t even know what happened to Merlin on the evening of the ball. His mind created dozens of most horrible scenarios immediately. 

Something in his chest shrinked and he walked up to Merlin’s bedroom’s door, wanting to check up on him more than any time before. He knocked on the door again, this time way more gently. Nothing. He knocked again. Still nothing. 

So he opened the door slowly, just like before, wincing when it squeaked loudly. He saw Merlin flinch awake, sitting up immediately. 

“Sorry,” he said.

Merlin relaxed, seeing it was no one dangerous, sighed and rubbed his eyes, pulling the covers closer to his chest. 

“What are you doing here?” he asked weakly.

“I wanted to check if you’re alright,” Arthur nodded, somehow getting through the voicing-his-feelings part. “It is way past the time you usually get to work.” 

Merlin’s eyes shot up and grew wide. He jumped out of his bed.

“Oh, no, no, no, I’m sorry, shit , why didn’t Gaius wake me…” 

“Hey, Merlin, calm down,” Arthur got to his side and grabbed his shoulders, making the younger man stop rambling and look at him instead. He didn’t look best. He rather made an impression of someone who has barely gotten any sleep at all. “It’s all okay,” he assured him. “I wasn’t back home either. And Gaius left a message, he wanted you to get some rest.”

It seemed as though Merlin had just now remembered what actually happened. He sighed again, lowering his head and closing his eyes.

“I’m sorry. It’s stupid,” he said, getting his shoulders out of Arthur’s grip and sitting down at the edge of the bed. 

“What happened, anyway?” He sat down next to him and made a mental note to find an excuse for replacing Merlin’s stone-hard mattress with anything acceptable sometime in the near future. 

“As I said, nothing but a stupid drama.”

Arthur looked at the floor and considered it for a moment. 

“It’s about Jaskier, isn’t it?” he asked. Merlin tensed. “It is, huh?” He really tried to go for sympathy in his voice. “You can tell me. Really.”

It did sound a bit dry, but if only Merlin had more energy, he would tell Arthur how proud of him he was. As a friend. Of him being a good friend. He was becoming such a good person… 

“There was…” he struggled. “He… found someone yesterday,” he said, finally. Arthur exhaled understandingly. “I know it’s stupid,” he groaned. “I should be forbidden to fall for anyone.” He put his head in his hands in resignation. 

Arthur scoffed softly. 

“It’s not stupid,” he said. “You have the right to feel… all of it.”

Now Merlin regained enough strength to express his gratitude.

“What happened to ‘No man is worth your tears’? ”

…in one way or another. 

Arthur smiled and messed Merlin’s hair playfully. 

“If he pretends to be interested in you and then ends up with someone else shortly afterwards, he’s definitely not worth them.”

Merlin nodded slowly and looked at Arthur.

“Thanks.” 

“Will you be alright?” he asked, more in a ‘Will you come to work today’ than in a ‘Are you sure you don’t need a friend’ manner, but it was there. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. He really would. It was the last moment to kill his feelings for Jaskier before they came to life, but it was still possible. After a moment, he frowned. “Wait… What do you mean you didn’t come home either?” He smirked, seeing Arthur’s blush. “Woah, I’ve got to hear what happened there,” he teased.

And he listened.

Even though a small part of his heart still cried over the Prince. 

He hoped Jaskier would take a smaller one. 

Merlin avoided Jaskier for the whole day after that, excusing himself with coming to work late and having to stay late as well, as a result. Merlin spent a lot of time with Arthur that day, either simply doing their jobs side by side, spending time on their usual banter, or him listening to the Prince ranting about how lucky he was to have a date with both Mithian and Gwen the next day. 

“If it goes well, I’m going to tell Father I’ll propose to Mithian,” he told him. “I can’t believe it, but, Merlin, this situation might make everyone happy at the same time.”

No, that’s not true , chanted the small part inside him. But he didn’t listen to it. He smiled and nodded, listening to his friend instead. 

Despite Merlin’s worries, Jaskier turned out to be a great friend as well. It would still take a while for him to actually believe that’s what they were, but he found it very easy to pretend . 

He continued to go into his chambers at night sometimes (that is - when he had no one over) and they kept writing songs, sharing stories and talking about everything and nothing. 

“How’s it going with the future king and queens?” Jaskier asked one evening, pouring wine into two glasses as Merlin sat down at the table. 

“Arthur’s love life’s never been better,” he smiled. Then he scoffed. “He’s so bloody annoyingly in love. I think I’m gonna throw up the next time he mentions how cute Gwen and Mithian are together. Where’s my tough employer with no feelings?” he added dramatically.

Jaskier snickered. “I know you’re not being sincere.”

“You’re right,” he smiled again, taking his glass from the Bard. “I really am happy for them. All three. Arthur is the happiest, because he managed to make Uther proud, and he didn’t have to hurt Gwen to do it.”

Jaskier sat down in front of him with a focused expression. 

“Do you think you’d be able to?” he asked quietly. 

“To do what?” he asked, taking a sip of the wine.

“Make your parents proud without hurting the one you're in love with.” He didn’t know why he’d asked that. Or why it sounded so hopeful. Merlin has made it clear that he wasn’t interested anymore. And… Jaskier still felt guilty about the first time he brought someone else into the bed they often talked on.

Merlin put the wine down, his eyes turning sad. 

“Yes,” he said sharply. “My parents would only want me to be happy.”

Jaskier nodded.

“My father would be furious if he ever met Geralt,” he said absentmindedly, rotating his own goblet, watching the wine swirl around inside. “He’d hate him.” 

“Was Geralt the only time you were in love?” Merlin asked, and then he emptied the goblet in one go. 

“I think so,” he said slowly. He took a sip and leant back in his chair. “What else do we know about Princess Mithian?”

Merlin chuckled.

“I’ve heard that she likes to sing,” he looked at Jaskier with amusement. “Maybe someday you’ll perform together?” Jaskier's eyes shot up right towards Merlin's. "What?"

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth a few times before speaking. Why hasn't he thought about this before?

"I've never heard you sing."

Merlin felt dizzy.

"Me?" he choked out.

"Yeah," he smiled finally. "You help me with the lyrics so often, I am almost convinced you're already a songwriter."

"That doesn't make me a performer," he scoffed, blushing. 

Stupid wine. Stupid feelings. 

"Please, Merlin, if only it's okay, do sing something," he asked genuinely, yet not too softly. (Friendship, Jaskier, focus.)

"But I don't remember the words to any of your songs."

"Then sing you." 

Silence. Oh, how much they would both give for this silence to feel as comfortable and safe as the one from the first time they were in this room together.

"I don't have-"

"I know you do."

Merlin bit his lip, playing with the leg of the goblet nervously.

"Alright…" he said, finally.

"You sure?"

"Yes… it went…" he sat straight in his chair and tried to focus on his doubtful skills. "Didn’t the trees tell us their stories / And yet we, we called them all liars." By this point already, two things became clear.

One, Merlin wasn’t, in fact, a skilled singer.

Two, Jaskier wanted to hear Merlin sing every day until his very last.

"And they said come down now / But we climbed so… High, high into the night / I look at those secret worlds you call eyes / And wonder if we might / There’s something changed / The leaves like broken shards of stained glass windows, oh," he opened his eyes, going quieter. "Shining in your light." Once he finished, he shifted a bit. "How was it?"

"I really like your voice," Jaskier stated, far quicker than he could think it through. Merlin couldn’t help but smile. "Well, my friend, do you have the rest of this song created, perhaps? Because it really has potential.”

My friend . Correct. Good. So why did it feel so wrong? 

"No, but…" Merlin's eyes wandered towards Jaskier’s bed, where they would always sit while writing songs together. "We could always finish it…" 

The Bard grinned. 

"Great! Come on, then!" He got up from his chair and moved onto the bed.

Merlin sighed. He missed the softness in Jaskier's voice. Why? Why did he prefer to see other people? Why that girl from the first night? Well… Maybe she was a beauty. Or a noble woman. Sure, Merlin had magic, but what advantage would it give him in a kingdom where his kind is burnt alive on a daily basis?

That night they finished the song. It came out lighthearted, it spoke of friendship and adventure. It definitely had more meaning than the one Jaskier wrote a few days prior. They both worked hard on it and it was something purely theirs. 

Afterwards, Merlin took off towards his and Gaius' chambers, cursing his heart for putting friendship and love together and not letting him exclude either. 

On one particularly pretty evening, nearly a month later, the tavern was busy as it was every friday. The audience kept yelling, whistling and clapping loudly, excited about the new (and very much adored) special form of performances of their favourite bard. 

Jaskier strummed the strings quicker than in the previous verse, staying on top of the not-so-tall table, as Merlin jumped onto it and stood next to his friend, his cheeks red from the emotions and alcohol he felt circling in his system. 

“You were a king in his castle / I was every dirty rascal,” he sang loudly, not caring about how ridiculous it felt to put his voice in one song with Jaskier’s far more beautiful one. 

“If you asked me for a torch, my friend, I gave you my fire,” they sang together, face to face on the table in the middle of a gathering of people watching. 

“I'd call as you climbed / And I'd catch you every time you fell,” Jaskier sang, alone this time, as Merlin downed the last bit of ale he still had left. 

“'Cause I will suffer silence for the strings you tune,” they sang together again, “And I'll withstand what's written for the writer in you.”

“Write me well, my friend, write me weird / Write me willing, write me well.”

“Didn’t the trees tell us their stories?” Merlin sang, looking into the distance dramatically. 

“Yeah, but we, we thought you were mental,” Jaskier replied, strumming harder, Merlin’s eyes returning to him, “You were talking to trees! ” 

And it went on and on, until they were walking out of the tavern, trying to get away from the whistling and applauding men and women around, laughing and replying with ‘thank you’s each time someone complimented their performance. 

They pretty much fell into Jaskier’s chambers, barely getting to the bed before they collapsed side by side, still grinning. 

“Some guy ripped my shirt,” Merlin complained.

“Happens,” Jaskier teased. “A lot to me, either way. You’ve no idea how many of my angry ex girlfriends ripped my clothes as revenge for some reason."

“I do have an idea, you keep telling me those stories, all the time,” he mumbled. 

Jaskier scoffed and they both giggled, fixing their gazes on the ceiling.

“These songs are the best ones I’ve performed,” Jaskier said, looking at the ceiling. 

“Wha?” came the barely hearable response. 

“The ones we wrote together, Merlin,” he confessed. This time, he only got a soft hum in response, so he carried on. “I feel like I only really... experience music this way when you’re by my side.” He took a long pause. By now he felt as if all the alcohol had evaporated from his blood already, leaving him stone cold sober. “It’s… ever since we met… I can’t help but hope I’ll get to do it… forever. Sing with you by my side… I-is that okay?” Silence. “Merlin?” 

He turned his head towards the skinny figure at his side, fast asleep, breathing peacefully. Jaskier sighed, but smiled softly. He got up, put a pillow under Merlin’s head, threw the covers onto him and sat down at the edge of the bed for a moment. He watched him for a minute or two. Finally, he moved his hand and brushed a bit of hair off Merlin’s forehead. He smiled delicately again.

“Sleep well, beautiful soul,” he whispered. Then his smile faded and he frowned sadly. “You don’t deserve the trouble that’s been thrown at you by fate.”

He got up and walked to the table. He scribbled a few outlines of a new song on a piece of paper. Then, minding that the bed is occupied, he moved to the fluffy rug next to it and layed down, taking his other pillow with him. 

Chapter Text

"Right. This should do," Merlin said, a content grin on his face, as he put the last elements of the picnic at the edges of the blanket.

He and Jaskier were preparing everything for a picnic date for Arthur, Gwen and Mithian, since the three of them were busy finding excuses to go off into the forest alone. 

He looked around and smiled. He didn't know how much of it was his magic's doing, but he loved being in nature more than anything. The sun, the warmth, the sounds and smells of the forest and green clearings gave him so much peace and energy at the same time. Just a view of colourful flowers bathing in said sunlight made him much happier than he could ever be on a dark cloudy day. 

He turned around to find Jaskier sitting on a fallen tree trunk, absent-minded, staring into the void, deep in thought. His smile melted into worry.

"Jaskier? Everything alright?" he asked. The Bard looked up at Merlin slightly vulnerably, taking a few seconds for his eyes to focus and for his lips to form a smile. Merlin returned it. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he got up, checking the picnicking area once more. “I’m just… thinking.”

“You mean over thinking,” Merlin remarked. “Is it about this Jasmine girl?” he sighed. “You really have to stop worrying about this break up, you did the right thing, and just because she reacted badly-”

“No, Merlin,” he cut him off, a little bit amused, but mostly just tired and desperate for the subject to end. “It’s not about her. Forget it. It’s not important.”

Merlin didn’t look too convinced, but he knew when to let go. He smiled at Jaskier softly and knelt down to fix the blanket once again, before they could go get Arthur and the girls. 

Jaskier watched him for the next few moments, until he got up and they headed towards the place they were supposed to meet the lovebirds.

“They should be here any moment now,” Merlin said, leaning against a tree, watching the road between them and the citadel. He looked at Jaskier shortly and smiled. “The King’s birthday is getting closer, have you got a song for the feast already?”

“Nah,” he shook his head, taking his place by the tree opposite to Merlin’s. “I still have time. It doesn’t need to be anything poetic,” he huffed.

“Right. Actually, I’m pretty sure Uther would barely notice if you just repeated the whole ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ thing,” he scoffed.

Jaskier laughed. “Probably.” After a moment of silence, he smirked and added: “Or if you performed instead of me.” Merlin smiled, but then… “Oh no, wait.” The Warlock looked at him questioningly. “ That he would definitely notice, because no one would stand your off-pitch attempts at singing it,” he teased. 

Obviously, it wasn’t an honest insult, so Merlin just grinned and punched Jaskier’s shoulder.

“Shut up, you’re the one always asking me to sing.”

“As I did to my mother, when I was a kid, now my hearing is damaged.”

“And yet you still made it to sing professionally?”

“Well, it has cost me my legacy, since my father no longer calls me his son.”

“You know what they say, you can’t spell ‘bastard’ without ‘bard’,” Merlin smirked, visibly extremely proud of that one.

Jaskier scoffed with a wide grin on his face.

“You are so dead,” he declared, and then he skipped the distance between them in one big step, getting to Merlin and attacking him with tickles all over his torso.

Merlin reacted with loud laughter and uncoordinated attempts at getting the Bard’s hands off him. It wasn’t the first time and he never actually stopped him from tickling him. If he was being honest, he mostly enjoyed it. 

“Jaskier! Please!” he yelled in between the laughter. “I- I can’t!”

Jaskier grinned, chuckling at the way Merlin was actually pulling him closer whenever he had the chance, and they collapsed onto the grass, rolling a little and wrestling playfully. 

Somebody cleared their throat above them. 

They stopped laughing and froze, looking up, but once they saw Mithian, they both grinned and exhaled. 

She smiled at them in amusement. 

“I understand you’ve had a nice time helping us out?” she asked, following Merlin with her eyes as the two got up and sweeped the grass off their clothes.

“A pretty nice one indeed, m’lady,” Merlin grinned.

“Everything is ready,” Jaskier added, bowing slightly.

“That’s great.”

“Where is Arthur? And Gwen?” 

“They’re on their way, should be here any moment now,” she said. Merlin coughed, his throat sore from laughing. Mithian chuckled and passed him a waterskin she was holding. 

“Thanks,” he breathed out and took it, taking a solid sip of water. Jaskier smirked, though his eyes were showing nothing but soft fondness. “There they are!” the Warlock exclaimed, once he noticed two figures walking the path towards them. 

Arthur was embracing Gwen, carrying the only bag they took with them, the two looking at each other fondly. Once they were close enough to see Mithian, their smiles widened even more.

They greeted each other and then Merlin and Jaskier as well. Then the two men led them to the spot they prepared the date in, and they walked away towards the castle.

That is, that’s what Mithian and Gwen had thought.

In reality, however, Merlin and Jaskier went to hide behind some nearby bushes, looking out for any danger. Arthur has asked them to do so, since his father would definitely find out if any of his knights saw him with two women at once. They’d probably call him a degenerate and punish the other two (which would probably end worst for Gwen). 

So, there they were, sitting behind a bush, looking around and listening to the happy lovestruck people chatting. 

“I’m honestly so grateful I’ve met you both… I can’t believe I’ve protested so much against going to the ball that day,” Mithian said.

“Well, we are both happy your father was stubborn,” they heard Gwen say, and after that a sound of a kiss being stolen was hearable. Then a giggle. “Arthur? Are you alright? You look as if you’ve been enchanted.”

Merlin looked at Jaskier with an amusedly disgusted grimace, earning a grin from him.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “I just can’t stop wondering how I got lucky enough to find love so easily. A true one. One like in all those stories and fairytales.”

Needless to say that Merlin wasn’t smiling anymore. 

He shouldn’t feel this way anymore. He shouldn’t be affected by Arthur’s words, and even if, he should be happy. Yet, he kept wondering what short of a fairytale their story was. Wasn’t it enough?

He looked down at the blade of grass he was picking at, until he felt Jaskier shift closer. He put his head on the Bard’s shoulder. 

“Okay?” Jaskier whispered. Merlin looked up at him and smiled softly, nodding. 

It was going to be. And he hoped that then it would stay that way, letting him just be happy for his loved ones. 

“So, what do you think?” Arthur asked Merlin, holding up two necklaces. Both had pedants in the shape of a flower, but one of them was golden, the other one silver. 

“Obviously the golden one for Mithian,” he said without a moment’s hesitation.

Arthur frowned.

“I hope you’re not only referring to status.”

“No, clotpole,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “I’ve just never seen Gwen wearing anything golden in my entire life.”

“But maybe that's…” Arthur suggested softly, “only because she never got gifts this generous?”

“Maybe…” he admitted. “But, Arthur, status still does matter. If you don’t let anyone know she got it from you, they’ll assume she stole it from someone and you’ll get her in trouble.” 

Arthur’s eyes widened.

“Gods, you’re absolutely right.” He looked down at the necklaces and dropped onto the windowsill, groaning. “How could I be so incautious…” He shook his head.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Merlin joked and it definitely caused Arthur to smile faintly, giving his friend a grateful look. 

“Say, do you even think they’re going to like them?” He showed him the necklaces again.

“Arthur, they are going to love them, because they’ll know they’re from you,” he assured him. “You need to stop thinking so much about it. Well - except for giving them things that could get them into the dungeons, that you should probably pay more attention t-” 

“Merlin?”

“Yes, Sire?”

“Shut up.”

“ ‘Course,” he grinned. 

Arthur scoffed and stood up, intending to put the jewellery into small gift boxes, when the sound of a lute got inside the chamber through the open window. The Prince raised his eyebrows and looked out to the grounds curiously. 

Of course it was Jaskier. Who else could it be?

“So we're at this feast and everything's going on they're so filthy rich / Comparing old rings, how their girlfriend's new dress is so kitsch,” he started the cheerful song, sitting on one of the short stone fences, one leg up and eyes closed, a smile on his otherwise relaxed face.

Merlin smiled, humming quietly as he continued cleaning Arthur’s boots. 

“He impresses me,” Arthur admitted.

“Hmm?” 

“I’m impressed by how dedicated he is to what he does,” he said, finally turning to find the boxes. “Aren’t you?”

Merlin looked up at him, pausing his actions.

“Of course I am. Stop smirking, it’s still not what you think,” he grumbled. 

“Contrary to what you’d like it to be.”

“Pff, what? No. No, you’re wrong,” he insisted, avoiding his eyes. Arthur walked up to him and took the shoe brush from Merlin’s hand. “Hey! I’m not finished!” 

“No, but if you carry on scrubbing it with such force, there will be holes in them,” he teased, messing Merlin’s hair, before taking the boots away as well. “You could just admit you like him, seriously, why can’t you guys-”

“ Because, he doesn’t care, Arthur!” Merlin yelled, standing up. 

The lute went silent and so did Arthur. There was a short knock on the door.

“Is everything alright, Sire?” came the Guard’s muffled voice.

“All under control, thank you!” Arthur yelled back, although his eyes stayed on Merlin’s, a mix of a warning and worry. He took a step closer to the window and closed it, his gaze meeting Jaskier’s for a moment. “How can you be so sure?” he asked delicately. 

Merlin frowned and looked away.

“Well, if he cared, he wouldn’t…” he trailed off and looked back at Arthur. “He wouldn’t go with that girl the other night after the feast,” he said. 

“I’m… not so sure about that, Merlin,” he crossed his arms on his chest.

“He showed me a lot of interest and then spent the night with someone else, even though he knew I was standing in the same room, what does that tell you?” 

“That he got lost and made mistakes,” he said, tilting his head. “Merlin, I’ve seen the two of you spending time together and I am absolutely certain that he cares about you.”

“Well, maybe, as a friend,” he bit back and turned away, fixing the pillows on Arthur’s bed.

There was silence for a moment, the only sound in the room being the sheets shifting under Merlin’s hands. 

“Do you know when was the last time I’ve seen someone looking at you the way Jaskier does?” 

“I bet you’re going to enlighten me no matter the answer,” Merlin sighed.

“Lancelot.” 

Merlin stopped in his tracks. He took a deep breath and stood straight, turning to Arthur. The Prince gave him a small smile. 

“I’m serious, Merlin. You should talk to him. For real this time.”

He didn’t want to admit right away that Arthur was right, so he smirked and looked up at him instead. “Since when are you an expert on romance?”

Arthur smirked back and took a short look at the necklaces laying on his desk. 

“They do say love makes you do strange things,” he quoted his friend, looking back at him and letting him exchange a silent moment of understanding.

A knock on the door again.

“Are we being too quiet?” Merlin chuckled.

“Enter,” Arthur called. 

The door opened, revealing Jaskier. His lute was tilted, resting on his back. He smiled brightly. 

“My lord,” he bowed his head. “Merlin.”

“Hello, Jaskier.”

“I heard you through the window and um… I just wanted to suggest an evening out?” He directed his words to Merlin.

“It’s still long until the evening, Jask,” he noticed.

“Thought you liked the sun,” the Bard smiled sheepishly. 

Merlin looked at Arthur, who smirked again, a silent ‘told you so’ hidden behind the expression. 

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said finally, walking up to Jaskier. “May I be dismissed?” he asked Arthur.

“Absolutely.”

Chapter Text

Not so long into their walk, Merlin and Jaskier ended up in one of their favourite clearings, the older man sitting with his back against a tree, pulling his lute’s strings gently, playing a wordless melody. Merlin, on the other hand, laid down on the grass on his back, one leg thrown over the other and his hands resting above his hand, his eyes closed, as he let the soft music and sounds of the woods calm him, lulling him into a blissful half-sleep. 

Throughout their whole way to that place, Jaskier has been looking awfully nervous. Merlin knew that the Bard would tell him what the matter was if he wanted to, so he didn’t push.

Instead, he started complaining about his work, as he always did when he had to carry a whole conversation on his own.

Well - he might have also mentioned the fight Arthur has had with Morgana the previous night, since it was all but serious, and pretty hilarious .

It was Merlin who suggested taking a break in the clearing, since he noticed his friend fidgeting with the lute as they walked.

Now the melody slowed down and Jaskier went silent for a moment. 

“You asleep?” he asked quietly.

“Mm-mm,” Merlin denied. He sighed and shifted a bit to get more comfortable. “Maybe sing something if you want to?” 

There was silence for a moment more, until he heard Jaskier shift too. Then there came the first strums of the song. 

“There’s a fire burning / And I’m learning to be / So much more than my tiredness / So much more than that old witch sleep wishes,” Jaskier sang quietly. Merlin focused on the words. The song must have been new, because he didn’t recall any of them. Moreover, if Merlin understood it correctly, it spoke of a witch, so Jaskier could only play it away from the castle. “She kisses my eyelids / And I breathe / You don’t have to be brilliant / She says as she scrolls / Through the roles that the millions / Of hollering hollow folk know how to play / It’s ok,” he carried on, and Merlin wasn’t sure what to think. There was a she, but it didn’t feel romantic. Not if you knew how Jaskier’s songs usually described his lovers. “They’re just shadows searching for light / They can’t stay”.

Merlin opened his eyes and squinted so he could see the crowns of trees without getting his eyes hurt by the still-bright sunlight. A call of a bird cut into the music, the animal flying up to its nest above Jaskier, disappearing in a hole in the trunk.

“Sleep now, oh, she says / Tomorrow’s jokes have yet to be laughed at or said / Just rest now, she moans.”

Merlin ran his hands through the grass underneath them, stretching, causing a butterfly to fly up from a flower he accidentally touched. Seeing its beautiful wings taking it up and away, he smiled weakly, considering falling asleep to the sound of Jaskier singing and playing. 

“Then the hollow folk come / Pour me wine by my bed / And their dead hollers hum at the things that I’ve said / And say no, no, no, no,” the song went on, and he decided he’d rather listen to it consciously. “Cos you are in the earth of me / You are in the earth of me / My head’s not yours it’s mine / Cos you are in the earth of me.”

Jaskier took a short pause, looking at Merlin’s peaceful figure, considering whether or not he should continue. A quick series of memories flashes through his head.

The hope he’d felt when he first took Merlin’s hand in his, the feast Arthur invited him to, the normality of moving into Camelot’s castle, the guilt after the night he’d spent with that girl… Merlin’s smile… contrasting with Merlin’s yell from slightly more than an hour ago…

The first rougher strum startled Merlin and he sat up, turning to Jaskier, fully awake. The Bard only gave him an apologetic smile, before he stood up and carried on, singing louder and more harshly. 

“Somehow now I’m drinking / And I’m lifting my glass / To that last good man grace / Who has left me, he’s left me at last / And I laugh, and I laugh / Cos laughing right now, it’s all, it's all that I have!” Merlin backed away towards the tree, watching the unusual performance with curiosity. “You’re better than this / He says as a hand slaps my face as I stand / And say no good man grace / I can’t do this! You can! / I can’t do this! You can! / I can’t do this! You can! / I can’t do this, you don’t understand!” Firstly, Merlin was really impressed by the fact that Jaskier’s lungs didn’t burst from singing the bit. Secondly, he couldn’t help but wonder if the lyrics had anything to do with the Bard’s father. “Sleep now, oh, she pleads / You’re not a coward cos you cower / You brave because they broke you / Yet broken still you breathe / So breathe, breathe just breathe.”

The wind got stronger for a moment, turning Merlin’s attention to the swaying trees before a shiver ran down his spine at how much more dramatic and beautiful Nature had made the performance. 

“Then the hollow folk pour me / Another shard full of glass / And I toast to their talents / And I forgive them at last / Cos I know, oh I know, I know,” the song got to its buildup and Merlin’s whole minds focused on how powerful music was, how powerful Jaskier was. 

“That you are in the earth of me / You are in the earth of me / My head’s no yours it’s mine / And I’ll take my fucking time / Cos I know, I know, I know!” After that, the lute got much quieter, but more rhythmic, as Jaskier’s singing turned into hoarse humming for a moment. “I’m all yours / But you’re all mine / Let’s dance together / You and I / Cos I’m not trapped / With you you see / You’re the one who’s / Trapped with me,” he sang. Merlin frowned. So - a badly ended relationship, after all. Who was it this time? He thought bitterly. Another noblewoman? Or just memories of Geralt coming back in Jaskier’s sleep? “Cos I’ve been here so many times before / Don’t you think I look pretty / Curled up on this bathroom floor / But where you see weakness I see wit / Sometimes I fall to pieces / Just to see what bits of me don’t fit.”

Merlin felt his eyes water. Why did Jaskier have to be this beautiful? As a man? As an artist? As a person? 

“Cos I when I stand oh those folks will run / And tell the tales of what I’ve become / They’ll speak of me in whispered tones / And say my name like it shakes their bones.” This time it was the Warlock’s memories that came back rushing at him. The way he thought Jaskier to be a jerk and a show-off the first time he saw him. He smiled weakly at the thought, but a few tears escaped his eyelids by now. “Cos we’ll dance together so close we’re sharing breath / But now I’m leading, doesn't that just scare you to death?! Cos I’m all yours / You’re all mine / Let’s dance together / You and I / Cos I’m not trapped / With you you see / You’re the one who’s / Trapped with me!” 

The moment he muted the strings and the song ended, Jaskier looked at Merlin with a gaze so sad, the Warlock sobbed and wiped his face with his sleeve. Jaskier jumped up to him and kneeled beside him, putting his lute on the grass next to his leg. He put his hand on the side of Merlin’s head.

“Merlin, hey, I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly.

“Me? Upset?” He looked at him. “No, no, it’s just… I… this was beautiful, but…” he took a moment to inhale shakily. “But sad… and… Whatever happened that made you write it, I’m sorry you went through it,” he clarified, but it made Jaskier frown, so he hurried to explain himself. “I just mean! If- if it was about your father, or about Geralt, or any other former-” 

“Merlin,” Jaskier interrupted him, sternly enough to make him shut up at the spot. “Nothing has happened. Well - not to me… ” Seeing the younger man’s confusion, he sighed, maintaining eye contact. “Merls, I wrote this song for you.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he felt all blood leave his face. He panicked. 

“B-but I thought we-”

“No, Merlin, gods, it’s not that, okay?!” He grabbed Merlin’s shoulders and shaked him lightly. “None of it is about you and me, it’s about what you ’ve been through! Your magic! Your destiny!” he hissed in one breath, tearing up himself. 

There was silence for a minute or two, as Merlin stared at the Bard, who kept his head low, trying to put himself back together. 

“You…” Merlin swallowed, no longer crying. “You wrote it for me?” he whispered.

Jaskier looked up at him and nodded. But this look . Merlin recalled Arthur’s words. About how Jaskier looks at him. Of course.

He took a deep breath and lunged forward, making his lips meet Jaskier's in a motionless kiss. 

Jaskier gasped quietly in surprise, but it only took seconds for him to kiss back gently, wrapping his arms around Merlin and pulling him close. 

They parted after a moment to get some air and look into each other’s eyes. Merlin teared up again.

“No one ever understood how hard it gets,” he said, his voice trembling.

“Shh,” Jaskier calmed him, moving his hand up and down his back. “It’s okay,” he said, joining their foreheads. “Whatever you go through, I’ll go with you,” he whispered. “I promise.” 

Merlin nodded and captured Jaskier’s lips again, this time letting himself smile into the kiss, which the Bard returned. 

And only a few centimetres from them, a blue butterfly flew down to rest on the lute laying in the grass. 

Chapter Text

Merlin and Jaskier stayed at their spot for a while more. When they finally decided to get back to the castle, the sun was already starting to set and Merlin was half-lying down with his back pressed against Jaskier’s chest. The Bard’s arms were embracing him tightly and he could feel him laugh each time their conversation amused him. He found the new sensation very comforting. 

“Are you sure we should be… doing this?” Jaskier asked once they got to Camelot’s gates, referring to the two of them holding hands. 

“Hey, relax,” Merlin comforted him. “Everyone around here knows that if they mess with us, they mess with the Prince,” he winked. “Besides, everyone loves me,” he joked, although Jaskier knew it was kind of true.

Many people he’s met during his time spent in Camelot have known Merlin pretty well for someone who spends most of their time near royalty. And Jaskier has, indeed, never heard a bad thing about Merlin from any of the local people (maybe except for the castle’s cook). Everyone seemed to get along with him. The noblemen, the sellers downtown, the owners of inns and taverns, the Knights…

Oh, lord. Especially the Knights. 

Now that Jaskier thought about it, perhaps it was one of the things that pulled him towards Merlin the most? It was nice to, for a change, have feelings for someone he knew was doing a good job simply… being with people. 

His mind wandered to the grumpy Witcher who he’d been thinking about much less lately, but then he looked down at his and Merlin’s joined hands. He felt like this could be the exact moment Geralt left his heart as any sort of romantic interest, making space for someone whose hand he never wanted to let go of.

And so he smiled, looked up at Merlin and nodded. 

Let the people see. Let them see that he’s found someone who cared and wasn’t, even in the slightest, afraid to show it .

And so, the Warlock and the Bard walked into the city, passing the guards as they made their way back to the castle itself, fingers intertwined. 

There was no one around the corridors at that hour, most servants and maids busy preparing their masters for the night. 

“Well if my eyes aren’t deceiving me,” they heard a female voice from behind them. 

They both turned towards Mithian at the same moment, only to discover Gwen walking by her side, wide grins on both their faces. 

“My ladies,” both men said synchronically. 

“How- When?” Gwen asked excitedly. “Oh please, it must have involved music, please tell me it involved music!”

Mithian chuckled, embracing her so she would calm down.

“No, but seriously, I want to hear everything too!” she said.

Merlin and Jaskier exchanged smiles.

“Well… it did involve music,” Jaskier admitted, looking at the girls. “You know me, the dramatic touch had to be there.”

“Who doesn’t like dramatic entries to relationships?”

“T-to what?” Jaskier’s eyes shot back to him. 

Merlin paled. Mithian smirked. 

“I-I mean- I thought you wanted-” he started. Jaskier squeezed his hand lightly.

“Yes, yeah, of course,” he shushed him softly. “Of course I do, I’m sorry, I just… didn’t know if it was official.” He blushed.

Merlin smiled so brightly, Jaskier wished he could capture it and always carry it in his pocket. 

“We’re witnessing history in the making, my dear,” Mithian muttered to Gwen, who giggled. 

“Alright, we’ll leave you two alone,” she winked. “Do you want to tell Arthur yourself or should we do it for you? God, I can’t wait to see his reaction.” 

“I guess we can tell him.”

“Alright then! We’ll see you tomorrow!” Mithian smiled and led Gwen away, still embracing her and chuckling as she continued to think of her own theories about Jaskier’s dramatic confessions. 

The newly-formed pair got to Jaskier’s door. 

“I should go back to work for the evening,” Merlin sighed. “Arthur can barely get himself ready to sleep without my help.” 

“What if I can’t do it without you either?” Jaskier pouted, but his expression broke into an amused grin the moment Merlin laughed. 

“Ass,” he stated. 

“Work-obsessed drama queen,” Jaskier retorted. 

“Someone’s really trying to get rid of their goodnight kiss privilege before they even used it for the first time,” Merlin remarked boldly. 

This was all it took for Jaskier to shut up, smile softly, cup Merlin’s cheek and kiss him gently, letting them melt into it for a few seconds. 

Once they parted, wide smiles brightened up both their faces. 

“Sleep well,” Merlin whispered.

“Goodnight,” Jaskier said almost silently.

Merlin got into Arthur’s chambers a moment later. 

“I’m so sorry!” he rushed to explain himself. “We came back late and- Arthur, is everything okay?”

Arthur was sitting by his desk, his head resting on his arms. 

“It’s… yeah,” he said, looking up at Merlin. “It’s going to be fine. It’s just that… the family dinner was tough today. My father wasn’t feeling well and he and Morgana had a big fight,” he sighed. “I’m just tired, that’s all,” he gave Merlin a faint smile, but he felt like there was more.

“Are you sure?” he winced in sympathy.

“Well… I’m worried about them, but… it’s fine, really, we can talk about it another time,” he stated, getting up and gesturing at Merlin to get on with his job. “I assume you’ve had a good time while you were away?” 

The servant’s sad expression didn’t go away for a few moments more as he sighed silently, realising Arthur was not going to open up about what was troubling him just yet. In that case Merlin decided to answer his question.

“Yes, Sire.”

“Drop the title, Merlin, I’m really not in the mood for this,” he sighed.

“Sorry, you’re right,” he muttered as he helped Arthur take his tunic off. “Yes, we had a nice time.” The moment he thought about the afternoon in the woods, a smile appeared on his face.

“Woah, that nice, huh?” Arthur teased. 

“Let’s just say…” Merlin smirked, gathering the clothes to put away, “you were right.” 

“So?” 

“So?”

“Well, tell me what happened, for goodness’ sake!” he chuckled. 

“He uh… He took me to a clearing in the woods we’ve been to a couple of times and um…” he smiled again, shrugging. “Turns out he wrote a song for me. And it was about something very important to us and… it looks like we’re together now.”

“Well, well, well, congratulations,” Arthur grinned. “Told you so,” he added with an overly proud and cocky expression. 

“I knew it. You just had to say it, didn’t you?” Merlin cocked his head to the side.

“Oh, how well you know me.” Merlin narrowed his eyes.

“Dollophead.”

“Clotpole.” 

“Just go to bed so I can go to mine,” Merlin said, standing near the bed’s headboard.

“And dream of your boyfriend?” Arthur wiggled his eyebrows, a pillow hitting his face seconds later as a response. He laughed. “Fine, fine, no need for violence.”

“Insult my boyfriend and you’ll get what you deserve,” Merlin carried on. Arthur gasped with a dramatic hand drawn to his heart.

“That would be treason, Merlin, how can you even speak of such horrible things?” 

He just earned himself one more hit with the same pillow and gave Merlin another grin in return. After that he finally got underneath his covers as his servant moved on to put out the candles.

“Goodnight, Sire,” he said, walking towards the door.

“Goodnight, Merlin,” Arthur replied.

Merlin did not dream of Jaskier that night. Not really. Instead, his mind brought nightmares to him. Terrible nightmares of Arthur falling into despair after Uther’s death and becoming a king as cruel as his father had been ever since he'd lost Ygraine. Fire. A lot of fire. And blood. Pyres all around the courtyard. Dungeons filled with innocent druids and sorcerers. Gaius imprisoned. And Arthur looking at Merlin with hatred. Such a cold gaze he gives him… as if he were nothing but a traitor. Nothing but a cruel freak of nature. 

Well, maybe Jaskier did play a role in those dreams. But it was horrible. He tried to save Merlin. Tried to yell at the guards to let Merlin go as they led him to be burnt alive. All for nothing. They catch Jaskier, they manhandle him and lead him for beheading. And they make Merlin watch. He sees Arthur once again, heartless. Not the man he used to know. Everything Merlin had ever believed in, ever worked and longed for, shattered into a million pieces, burnt into ashes. And then so is he.

He wakes up covered in cold sweat, his breath and heart rate sped up, tears starting to flow out of his eyes immediately. He keeps quiet though. It was just a dream. Gaius doesn’t deserve to be woken up for such silly reasons. 

Yet, Merlin can’t bring himself to calm down. It wasn’t okay to see any of those people the way they were in the dream. He couldn’t really bother any of them in the middle of the night, but he figured he needed to go and see Jaskier. He needed to see him and Jaskier wouldn’t tell him to get lost for waking him up, would he? Suddenly Merlin was nervous about any potential movement he could make. 

He couldn’t let the bad dreams take a toll on him. 

He stood up, but the moment he threw the blanket off himself he shivered from the cold air meeting his sweaty body. He clenched his teeth and wrapped the blanket around himself as he left his bedroom slowly, walking towards the chamber’s doors quietly.

He made his way through the castle’s halls, still sniffling from the slight sobs that were still escaping his throat. 

Finally, he stood in front of Jaskier’s door and knocked a few times. He heard footsteps almost immediately, the bard’s face alert as he opened the door, only to soften and overflow with worry once he took Merlin’s shivering figure into account.

Jaskier was sleepy, there was no denying of it. But when he saw Merlin in his post-nightmare state all the exhaustion seemed to hide behind deep care.

“Merlin, what happened?” he whispered, clearly panicked, as he let the Warlock hug him tightly and cry into his shirt for a moment more. He embraced him, his hand in Merlin’s hair as the other caressed his back up and down. “Shh, cariad, tell me what’s wrong, please,” he pleaded. 

“ ‘st bad dreams,” Merlin sobbed, a tiny bit embarrassed as he felt he might have overreacted. But Jaskier didn’t laugh. He didn’t even loosen his embrace. He hugged him closer. Merlin felt like crying harder from the sheer comfort it brought him. 

“It’s okay, you’re safe,” Jaskier said quietly. “Want to stay here?” Merlin tensed. “It’s okay if you don’t, I can take you back to your-” 

“No, I- I would like to stay with you, please?” he spoke weakly. 

Jaskier sighed fondly, kissing the top of his head.

“Of course. You can always stay with me.” He closed the door and led them towards the bed, throwing the covers onto Merlin. “Good lord, Merlin, you are freezing cold.” He frowned. 

“Can…” Merlin hesitated. Jaskier looked at him carefully, sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes showing so much concern the warlock’s heart ached from just the sight of it. “Could you hold me?” 

This time it was Jaskier’s heart that ached seeing the fear in Merlin’s eyes. As if he thought these words could do harm to what hasn’t yet even well started. To them . 

“Of course I can,” he said. He raised his hand and cupped Merlin’s cheek with it, wiping off a tear. “I won’t leave you for that, alright? It is no reason to change how I feel about you, you hear me?” Once again Merlin felt like crying tears of gratitude. 

How, how could everything be so perfect and why did he have to be so miserable while it lasted? 

“Thank you,” he said, cuddling up into Jaskier’s side. “Thank you, thank you, thank you…” he whispered with increasing emotion. 

It took a few minutes for Jaskier to soothe him. Another few for Merlin to explain his nightmares to him anyhow. But soon they were both peaceful, laying together calmly, Jaskier on his back and Merlin on his chest, the bard’s hand drawing circles on Merlin’s shoulder. He fixed his eyes on the ceiling as he hummed a melody of a song to him. 

“Does this one have any lyrics?” Merlin whispered. Jaskier exhaled with a slight smile and glanced down at the raven hair tickling his neck. 

“It does.”

“Tell me?”

“ When you call to me asleep,” he recites, as if it was a poem and not a song. He didn’t feel like singing. Surprisingly. Somehow, the fear that came over him when he saw Merlin suffer made him unable to do it. To do anything except help him calm down, really. It was kind of terrifying, but somewhat beautiful. He felt as if he was only just starting to understand the strength of the bond they have formed. “up the ragged cliffs I scramble. A single thread hangs limply down and I breathe not now, not now. And I find you all unwoven, trying desperately to sew and I know the kindest thing is to leave you alone.” He takes a pause and feels Merlin shift slightly. “When your seams have come unknitted and you cry out to the sky "I've run out of my words, my song, just let me die, me die". The rockrose and the thistle will whistle as you moan. I could try to calm you down but I know you won't... All the pins inside your fretted head and your muttered whens and hows…” By now his voice had turned into no more than a whisper. “ All your mother's weaves and your father's threads - let me rob them of you now… 'Cause I'll darn you back together when you think that you're bereft… and you'll wail, you'll scream, but I'll never stop 'cause it's all that I have left… I wake and hear you calling and up those cliffs I climb and I find you with a thimble weeping. May I, I ask, may I?” He took a break to kiss the top of Merlin’s head tenderly. “ And you gently gift it to me 'cause you've no clue how to sew and I know the kindest thing… I pray to god it's the kindest thing… I know the kindest thing… Is to never leave you… alone.” 

“It’s beautiful,” Merlin whispered, barely hearable. Perhaps Jaskier wouldn't have heard it if they weren’t lying together the way they were. Merlin nuzzled his face into Jaskier’s neck gently and the bard couldn’t help but smile softly, holding him closer. 

“Sleep now,” he said. “I’ve got you.” He buried his nose in Merlin’s hair. “I’m not planning on letting go,” he chuckled. Merlin returned the gesture.

“Jaskier?” 

“Yes, dear heart?”

“Thank you.”

Jaskier’s heart swelled. 

“You too, Merlin.”

Feeling his lover’s breath steady, Jaskier drifted off to sleep, keeping his promise, at least for the night. He did not let go of him for a second. 

Chapter Text

Jaskier stood in the Throne Room, one arm around Merlin’s shoulder, motionless, as were all others. All people from the court, gathered in one room, Arthur and Morgana at the very front, empty expressions on their faces. 

Leon stood in front of them, looking seriously, making all last whispers circling the crowd come to a halt. 

“The King is dead!” he announced.

At his words, Arthur winced slightly. At Arthur’s reaction, Merlin flinched. At Merlin’s flinch, Jaskier tightened the embrace a bit. 

Gwen and Mithian were standing next to them, Gwen visibly suffering more than the princess. It was not the king she was mourning. Not the man who killed her father, who mostly treated his children badly, no. She mourned, because the man she loved mourned, and because her best friend mourned. Mithian was there for Arthur and Gwen.

So was Jaskier. For Merlin, that is, because he was there for Arthur. It made him sad, seeing all the people he’s met and found dear in Camelot suffer, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel this way as well. Jaskier hated Uther since day one, as he was certain did Merlin and Mithian, maybe even Gwen. Arthur was about to become king, replace Uther. He and Morgana would rule, someday supported by Gwen and Mithian - isn’t that a better option than the tyrant who was now dead?

He looked down at Merlin. Right now, it looked like the warlock only had eyes for his best friend who was in pain. Pain Merlin knew. He lost a father as well, not so long ago, Jaskier had learnt. But he saw it before, the hope that flickered in Merlin’s eyes when the ‘sad’ news got to them.

Show support, he thought. That’s what we have to do now. Show our support for our future, rightful and destined rulers, before we can rejoice. 

So he stood straight, a firm embrace of his lover, his face serious and his thoughts with the future king and his sister. 

The two of them - Jaskier and Merlin - got back to the bard’s chambers about two hours later. Merlin looked tired and worried, shrugging his jacket off his shoulders and throwing it onto a chair mindlessly, dropping onto the edge of the bed.

Jaskier stood in front of him, calmly, as Merlin rubbed his face with his hands.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so hurt ,” Merlin said hoarsely. Jaskier only exhaled in response. “I feel as if I was going through.. You know… that… all over again as he is.”

The bard took a few steps towards the bed and fell onto one knee in front of Merlin, taking his hands in his.

“I know,” he said quietly. “Even I felt sad with him. It is a hard time to go through… It’s just the way it is.” He tried to give him a sad smile, but all he managed in the empty atmosphere of the castle was a bit of comfort in his eyes.

But Merlin knew his eyes. He saw it there. And he was grateful. 

“Do you think he will be okay?”

“Who, Arthur?” Merlin nodded. “Of course he will be. Eventually. You’ve said it yourself, he is going to be the best king these lands have seen.” He squeezed Merlin’s hand. “He and Morgana will make Camelot come into its Golden Age. You’ll see.”

Now they both managed small smiles. Finally, Merlin squeezed Jaskier’s hand back and nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay?” Jaskier made sure, cupping one of Merlin’s cheeks.

“Yes. It’ll be alright.” At that Jaskier smiled slightly again, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on Merlin’s lips. Once they parted, they rested their foreheads together and stayed like that for a moment.

“Do you want to lie down?” Jaskier whispered and Merlin nodded.

“But only if you sing me something,” he said with a little more genuine smile this time. He got one in return as well and they climbed onto the bed fully, Jaskier laying his lute on his chest as Merlin snuggled up into his side. The first sounds of strumms cut through the silence of the chambers, as Jaskier tuned the instrument, before quietly singing the first lines of the song.  

“I’ll keep the king / When you are gone away / I’ll keep him safe from the dark things that wait / In that house at the top of the rock… There’ve been-”

He was cut off by weak knocks on the door. He muted the lute and sat up, as Merlin stood to get to the door and open it. As soon as he did, the inner edges of his eyebrows went up in worry.

“Arthur?”

“Can I uh…” Arthur kept his gaze low, completely unlike him, perhaps trying to hide the red eyes and dark circles underneath them. “Could I talk to you? I could- I could use that,” he sighed, finally looking into Merlin’s eyes. 

The warlock thought his heart was going to shatter right there and then, seeing him like this. But it didn’t. It couldn’t. He had to be there for his best friend now.

“Of course. Of course we can talk. Always,” he assured him quietly, letting him get inside. 

Once Arthur walked inside and noticed Jaskier, he tried to look a bit more presentable (with dubious efficiency).

“Oh. Hello, Jaskier. I um… I don’t want to disturb you…”

“No, no, sire, absolutely no problem with that.” Jaskier gave him a reassuring half-smile and started walking towards the door. He stopped next to Merlin and put a hand on his shoulder. “I will leave you two alone.” Merlin nodded and Jaskier left, closing the door behind him.

Merlin looked at Arthur and they locked eyes. There was a moment of comfortable silence, followed by Arthur’s sigh.

“I’m so…” he started, but couldn’t really find a way to finish the sentence.

“Upset?” Merlin suggested, choosing a word that could be a gentle start.

“ Miserable ,” Arthur corrected. Merlin held his breath for a moment, taken aback by the straightforwardness and intensity. “I know,” Arthur scoffed. “I’m pathetic.”

“ No ,” Merlin said firmly. “You are not pathetic for mourning. Don’t ever say that.” 

Arthur looked unconvinced, but he sat down at the edge of Jaskier’s bed. Merlin followed suit. Once again, silence, but this time it was full of tension. Both men waiting for Arthur to be ready to say another word. 

[You fumble through the dark / However wide and deep and far, my dear]

“I just fucking miss him, Merlin. However little sense that makes.” As he said that, a tear made its way down his cheek. “However much of a tyrant he was, he-” his voice trembled. “He was still…”

“Your father,” Merlin finished softly and Arthur broke down crying. Merlin’s hand landed on Arthur’s forearm, caressing it soothingly. “It’s alright, Arthur. You have all the right to miss him.” He watched Arthur for a moment more and then he felt a strong, sudden urge to tell him something he was sure he hadn't heard in a long time. “Your father loved you, Arthur.” 

He felt him tense up, but the prince kept crying. Merlin embraced him, sitting by his side patiently. 

[And let the sea birds cry / I’ll let the sea birds cry]

“Merlin?” Arthur asked quietly, once he calmed down just enough to speak.

“Yes?”

“I am scared,” he admitted, clearly embarrassed, yet relieved. “Terrified, in fact. That… I’ll be even worse than him,” he said, looking Merlin in the eye again. “As a king.” 

[I’ll keep the king…]

Merlin frowned and studied his friend’s face for a moment, before he took a firm grip on both his shoulders.

[I’ll keep the king…]

“Arthur Pendragon, what I am about to say is not because you’re my best friend or because I am sorry for your loss, but because I truly believe and know it. ” The blonde sniffled shortly and listened ( For once , Merlin thought, which made him smile slightly). “You are going to make a wonderful king. You will be the best ruler these lands have seen. Under your rule people are going to be happy and your kingdom will thrive, peace and well being brought into it at last. Justice. Real justice, not the one that excludes mercy. That excludes truthfulness. And, perhaps most importantly, unlike Uther, you will never, ever , be alone. You understand? Not as long as I’m on Earth, at least. That I can promise. Hell, if you asked me, I’d swear you an oath.”

[I’ll keep him safe from the dark things that wait / In that house at the top of the rock]

Arthur gave him the most honest and fond smile a miserable man could ever manage. And Merlin returned it. Of course he did. 

“And you truly believe that?”

Merlin tightened his grip on Arthur’s shoulder. 

“If not you, who else?” 

They looked into each other’s eyes and did not stop for a long while, apparently finding something in both these shades of blue that they wouldn’t find anywhere else. As if trying to remember how this feels, before everything changes once and for all.

“Thank you Merlin,” Arthur finally said, putting his own hand on Merlin’s shoulder as well. “You are the best and truest friend I’ve ever had.” He gave him a smile. And then Arthur stood up. “The crowning ceremony will take place tomorrow. I trust you don’t have any more important plans than actually appearing at work?” He shot him a teasing look.

And Merlin grinned, thanking all the gods above. He was still there . Nothing could be ruined from there, from Uther’s death, because his heir who was about to become king, was still Arthur. Merlin’s Arthur. Whatever the story, this was it. Their destiny. 

“Absolutely not, Sire.”

[But our voices collide with each howl of the tide / Singing all hell and its fire waits for us…]

The next day Arthur was crowned and Morgana was officially put second in line to the throne. The King’s betrothal to Princess Mithian was already official as well, all three of the mentioned royals already secretly working on law regulations to allow Gwen into court one way or another. 

Arthur suggested for Merlin to choose any position he could promote him to, but Merlin declined, insisting on just staying where he was, explaining that “Prince’s servant to king’s servant is already a promotion!”. 

Jaskier stayed where he was, writing songs for the court to enjoy during events, getting closer to Arthur, Morgana and the rest in their friendship and, of course, with Merlin. 

As for the knights, not much has changed. Arthur merely knighted a few of his friends who his father hadn’t, setting it as one of his goals to make Camelot’s army strong not only through training his people, but also building trust between them.

The taxes were now lower, but the works done for the people that required the money were far better organised. Mithian and Arthur personally supervised the life of the downtown, making improvements where they were needed.

Merlin got to spend more time with Gwen, the two of them working together while their friends and partners were busy attending their royal and artistic businesses. They always had a great time while these moments lasted and sometimes Gwen wondered if she didn’t want to stay a servant as well.

But then, Gwen found out about Merlin’s magic. And despite the shock it had caused, she kept the secret. She promised to Merlin that she wouldn’t tell Arthur.

But she also promised herself that if Arthur ever did find out (which she silently hoped for now that Uther was dead), she would cast a better light onto Merlin and the whole case. 

Last but not least, Arthur had managed to sign beneficial peace declarations with rulers of all kingdoms around Camelot’s borders. The latest council meetings have shown that the friendship in the lands is strong and no wars could be seen on the horizon of the nearest future. 

Uther had died in early winter. And by the end of summer, whispers of Camelot’s Golden Age have already begun to spread around the Five Kingdoms. 

As Merlin had learned from one of the letter’s he’s gotten around June, Essetir was also thriving, the summer and the political changes colliding to provide a better today and more hope for a better tomorrow than ever before. 

[The wind and its shackles, the old fishers tackles,

The sea and its waters, every unwanted daughter,

Every moon in the sky, every promise and lie,

All hell and its fire waits for us]

Chapter Text

This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. It wasn’t supposed to be like this . 

They took him in the middle of the night. They stormed into Jaskier’s bedroom and tore Merlin away from him, dragging him outside despite his loud protests. They held Jaskier back, too. He could yell, kick, try to punch each of the guards, but it was all in vain. 

When Merlin was far enough from the chambers, they let him go. He spat into the commander’s face and sprinted off towards the Throne Room before the man could react. He didn’t care about the ‘secret meeting’ that was taking place there. He simply stormed inside, his look so cold no one from the Continent could recognize him if they saw him now. 

“What the actual fuck do you think you’re doing, Arthur?!” Everyone in the room widened their eyes at him, looking at Arthur to get his reaction. The king looked just as furious as Jaskier felt. 

“I beg your pardon?” he hissed. 

“What are you planning to do to Merlin?!” 

“Burn him. As we do with all traitorous sorcerers, Jaskier,” he said coolly. “Now, if you do not wish to confess a hidden evil identity as well, I’d suggest for you to leave.”

Jaskier’s jaw clenched harder, his body trembling with boiling anger as he threw himself onto Arthur, aiming a successful punch with his fist, right into the young king’s face. 

Blood splattered onto the stone floor as Arthur fought back, until a few guards came to help him, dragging Jaskier towards the door.

“To the dungeons with him!” Arthur commanded. “We’ll see if he’s so brave from where we put him,” he said, his eyes dark with fury, as he spat the rest of blood that was bothering him. 

Jaskier wasn’t, in fact, brave at all, from where they put him. They made him look. They put him in one of the cages they used to keep druids in and settled it on the courtyard, right next to the pyre. When the time was right and people gathered, Arthur included, they made him watch Merlin, the one person he loved more than life itself, burn down to ashes. They made him listen to his screams, forced him to look, until there was nothing to look at anymore, the flames dying out and the smell growing unbearable. 

He shot up in bed the second he woke up, all covered in cold sweat, breathing heavily, audibly, shaken and shaking. Fuck, he thought, not again. The nightmare felt so fucking real… He looked towards the door in panic, but no one was storming inside. No sign of guards. He checked the other side of the bed quickly.

Merlin was there. 

Sleeping and breathing, safe and sound.

Tears welled up in Jaskier’s eyes and he sobbed, quietly at first, not able to stop himself from embracing Merlin tightly. The warlock shifted under the touch and hummed, tensing once he woke up and heard Jaskier cry. He turned in his arms in an inefficient attempt to look at his boyfriend’s face, eyebrows twisted in worry.

“Jask, love, what happened?” he asked quickly, returning his embrace. “Hey, hey, I’m here, you’re safe.” 

“You’re here,” Jaskier repeated desperately between his sniffles. “ You’re safe,” he cried.

“Wh- Yes, I am alright. We both are,” Merlin assured him, caressing his back soothingly. “We’re okay… Was it a dream?” Jaskier just nodded and Merlin sighed, tightening his embrace. “It’s okay now. We’re here, nothing’s happening. Hey, look at me.” He made Jaskier pull away just enough for them to face each other. Merlin raised his hands up to Jaskier’s cheeks, wiping his tears off with his thumbs, looking at him in a reassuring way. “See? I’m with you, moonlight.” Jaskier closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply as he let out a few last cries. 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed.

“You don’t need to be. It’s alright. Remember our first night together?” he softly reminded him of when it was him who had nightmares.

Jaskier held him close again, slowly calming back down. He nuzzled his face into the back of Merlin’s neck, breathing him in. 

“They took you away,” he whispered a moment later. “In the nightmare. They took you and- and they made me look at...”

“It was just a dream,” Merlin whispered back, brushing his hand over Jaskier’s knuckles. “I’m here with you. And no harm will come to us now.” 

They laid in silence for a longer while, regaining their feeling of safety, breathing deeply yet slowly in each other’s arms.

“I don’t want him to know about you,” Jaskier muttered darkly after some time. Merlin frowned.

“Who?”

“Arthur. I don’t want him knowing about your magic,” he said. Merlin just sighed. 

“Jask… Arthur would never-”

“Promise me,” he pleaded. Merlin shook his head.

“I can’t…” 

“Please, Merlin, it’s too big a risk…”

“No, Jaskier. I cannot swear on it. I’m sorry,” he said. He felt Jaskier shudder, but he held his ground. “Arthur would never hurt me. And if he makes me leave, we’ll leave together. Far away. Maybe even back to the Continent. Wouldn’t you like that? Wouldn’t you want to go back home with me?” he suggested softly. 

Jaskier pulled him closer, too exhausted to fight. One more tear rolled down his cheek.

“You are my home,” he whispered shakily, drifting off to sleep. 

“Merlin!” Arthur smiled once the warlock entered the king’s chambers. Mithian was there as well. Their betrothal was announced in the late summer. She smiled at Merlin when he came inside, returning her attention to combing her hair near the mirror in the corner. “Good to see you!”

“Good to see you in such a good mood,” Merlin grinned, frowning slightly. “Seems like I can count on you not to throw anything at me today.”

“Let’s not get too carried away,” Arthur joked, but once Mithian laughed, he nodded in amused defeat. 

“I’ve brought you breakfast,” Merlin said, putting the tray with two meals on the table. “You have a meeting with your knights today and then a council meeting in the late evening. Other than that, I guess the plan is up to you, sire.”

“Right,” Arthur groaned. “Council meeting. I wish I could just see the knights twice.” 

“Don’t be too hard on the councilmen, Morgana does most of the work either way,” Mithian noticed. 

“I hate how well you both know everything, a man can’t complain anymore.” 

Merlin and Mithian exchanged winks. 

“Well, I’ll better be off,” she said, finished with her morning routine, giving Arthur a brief kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to lower town with Gwen.”

“What about breakfast?” Arthur asked. She just grabbed one piece of bread with ham from the tray and smiled at them.

“That’ll do. I’ll see you both later!” Then she left. 

“So,” Merlin moved on to choosing clothes for Arthur to wear. “Do you want to do a training session today or are you giving the knights a break?” 

“I think I’ll pass. But I was thinking about going to the tavern today. You know, all together. Me, the knights… you, if you’d like to.” 

“You’re inviting me to the tavern?” Merlin laughed. 

“Why not? You can bring Jaskier, if you want.”

Merlin’s smile faded. Jaskier has been weird about Arthur ever since he had this bad dream. They had a fight about it in the morning. Nothing too harsh, they managed to stop raising their voices before Merlin went to work, but it still made Merlin nervous about encouraging any contact between the two men. 

“Maybe,” he said avoidably. “What about the council meeting?”

“Would it be possible to move it to the afternoon?” Arthur winced. 

“I think so, you’re the king, you’re the boss,” he teased. 

“Shut up, Merlin.”

And so in the evening they were all walking into the tavern. Arthur, Merlin, the knights and Morgana. The Pendragon siblings were still discussing the earlier council meeting, much to everyone’s exasperation.

“How do we even convince them to lower the taxes in further villages?” Morgana groaned. “We know we can do just fine without taking more from those poor people than they can give, but these old assholes will not be as eager to give up their privileges.”

“We could just put our foot down, we are the royals after all, but…” He sighed. “I don’t want another conflict, like with the death sentence law regulations.” 

“Or!” Gwaine yelled, throwing each of his arms around one of the siblings. “You could both shut up about work and just enjoy a free night. 

Leon shoved him on the back of the head, but Arthur and Morgana surprisingly listened to him, opening the tavern’s door as they got there.

Everyone inside was quiet, as if it wasn’t the busiest entertainment spot in the city. 

“Woah, funeral vibe, nice,” Elyan whispered, but only Gwaine seemed impressed.

“What’s happening here?” Arthur frowned. 

Merlin smiled, noticing who was standing in the middle of the gathering.

“Oh, I think I know,” he said quietly, as a few stomps broke through the silent room, setting a rhythm.

“I can hear the cannons calling / As though across a dream / And I can smell the smoke of hell / In every stitch and seam,” Jaskier started singing, kind of sadly, without even touching his lute. “And like flowers, the bodies tumble / Around this muddied lot / I cannot hear them scream / "Forget me not"” . 

“Is it just me or is the guy getting better and better with each passing week?” Leon asked them in a whisper, smiling widely. Only some knew his hidden love for poetry, but it made Jaskier’s music thrice as valuable for the knight. 

Still not even close to how much it meant to Merlin, but more than to most. 

“Your voice, it carries over / The hubbub and the hum / And it paints the sky and circles high / Like the beating of a drum / You will scream "I won’t forget you" / But I’ll cover my cold ears.” The bard noticed them and looked Merlin in the eyes. “It cannot be a lie / If no-one hears.”

Merlin’s eyes saddened, but he didn’t show emotion otherwise. Jaskier’s gaze left him and he started pacing the room, carrying on. 

“'Cause although you say good day to me / I know I don’t belong / And although you hold my hand and say / ‘I love you,’ you are wrong / Because love does not exist here / In this garden, there’s no feeling / And you say the words so often / That I barely know the meaning / And when all the flowers are rotten / And all the cannons shot / I’ll scream, but you won’t hear / ‘Forget me not’"

“Come on, let’s get ourselves some drinks while it lasts,” Morgana whispered and they all walked towards the bar. 

All except Merlin.

Arthur turned around to check if he was going, but once he saw Merlin leaning against the wall, eyes glistening, watching Jaskier carefully, he smiled slightly and joined the others, leaving his servant to it.

“And in years to come, you’ll wander,” Jaskier sang, eyes returning to Merlin and staying there. “To the place up on our hill.” A few people turned to check what he was staring at, smiling knowingly once they did. “And then you’ll cry to our painted sky / ‘I loved him then, I love him still’,” there was a moment of silence, but Jaskier wasn’t finished. “And you’ll strew some sage and lilies / And roses where I rot / Of all the flowers you picked / I knew you would forget… forget-me-nots.” He stayed where he was, just as Merlin did.

They only broke eye contact when the people started applauding. Jaskier bowed and smiled. 

“I took you some ale, I hope that’s alright,” Arthur said, standing next to Merlin and handing the drink to him.

“Thanks,” Merlin smiled at him, taking a big sip. 

“Are you two okay?” Arthur nodded towards the ‘scene’. 

“Arguments happen,” he said simply. The king nodded. 

“Well, if you need anyone to talk to…” 

“I know.” He gave him one more smile. “Listen, I…” He looked at Jaskier, who was leaving the tavern, then back at his friend. “I think I’ll go home. I don’t want to mess up the night.”

“You sure?” Arthur asked. “I hope you know you’re not a problem to us.”

“I know that, really, Arthur, thank you. May I be dismissed?”

Arthur frowned, but he nodded. 

“Of course.”

He entered Jaskier’s chambers (although by now they usually called it ‘their chambers’) and left his jacket near the door. Jaskier was sitting by the table, scribbling something on a piece of parchment. 

“The evening out already over?” Jaskier asked dryly. 

“Stop it,” Merlin said, but not coldly. Just tiredly. “Why can’t you just let it go? It was only a nightmare. If I worried so much about each one I’ve had-”

“That’s the point,” Jaskier said, looking him dead in the eyes. “I’ve only had one. Doesn’t it seem at least a tiny bit alarming to you?” 

Merlin scoffed.

“I’m sorry, but no. I am not scared of my best friend and I am not worried that he could ever make you watch me burn alive for the mere reason of me being me,” he said determinedly. 

“Then how come he still knows nothing?” Jaskier challenged. “How come you’re still hiding?!” 

“You cannot criticise that,” he said quietly. “You don’t know how it feels.” 

“Apparently you don’t know either,” Jaskier snapped, getting up and walking towards the window. He turned back around when he heard a sniffle. Merlin’s eyes were full of tears.

“I am scared,” he admitted. “But not for my life. I don’t believe he could put me in danger. I just…” Jaskier waited patiently, looking at him. “I can’t lose him, Jaskier.” 

“Can he, you?” 

“I… I don’t know.” Merlin embraced his own chest with his arms, as if he was cold. “I once thought that if Arthur couldn’t accept me for who I am then that would mean he’s a worse friend than I hoped he was.” 

“That would be correct,” Jaskier said coolly. 

“But I don’t want him to be worse, Jask,” Merlin nearly shouted through gritted teeth. “I want us to stay as we are, it is good the way it is.”

Jaskier clenched his jaw and looked outside of the window. 

“Do you still love him?” he asked finally, not looking at Merlin. 

“As a friend,” he said sternly. “I always will.” 

“We’ll see.”

“Jaskier!”

“I just want you to be safe!” He finally turned to him. There was silence for a moment, Merlin looking down at the floor.

“I know.” He looked up at Jaskier. “But please, don’t ruin one thing just to prevent another. Even if you are right, I don’t want to do it this way.”

Jaskier’s look softened. He sighed and dropped onto the windowsill, rubbing his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry.”

Silence again. Merlin sighed and took a grip on himself, sitting down at the edge of the bed, opposite to where Jaskier was sitting by the window. He wiped the tears away from his eyes.

“What was it with the song?” Merlin asked quietly. 

“It’s… nothing. Doesn’t matter.” His voice was barely above a whisper. 

“It does to you,” he noticed. Jaskier looked up at him.

“I just hope I’ll never have to sing it again.” 

Merlin nodded, standing up to change into his night clothes.

As their nerves calmed down and the night turned darker, they both laid in bed, ready to sleep. Jaskier was laying on his back, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep. He looked to his side, where Merlin was laying on his side, his back to Jaskier. He saw that Merlin’s breathing wasn’t yet regular. He wasn’t asleep. He looked outside the window and took in the sight of the moon being high in the sky. 

“Merls?” he asked softly.

“Yes?” he said quietly, still sounding a bit annoyed.

“It’s well past midnight,” Jaskier noticed.

“I suppose it is.”

Jaskier smiled, rolling onto his side behind Merlin, pressing a light kiss to the top of his head. 

“Happy birthday.”

By the way Merlin exhaled shortly, Jaskier knew he smiled. Finally, the warlock turned to him, looking into his eyes. He sighed and kissed him, soft and slow. 

“Thank you.” 

With that their fight was over. For now. They shifted to the middle of the bed, where Jaskier pulled the younger man as close to himself as possible, peppering his head, face and neck with kisses. Merlin tilted his head to look him in the eyes.

“I know you’re just worried. It’s alright.”

Jaskier bit his lip, gracing Merlin’s cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I want you to know that I really care,” he said. “You are an amazing person, Merlin Wyllt, a person who lights up every room they walk into, someone not only cared for by me, but by your friends, your mother, everyone you meet cares sooner or later, because you care for them. You have a heart of gold and your magic saves lives, you are the most beautiful sight I ever laid my eyes on, my inspiration and-”

“Jaskier,” Merlin interrupted with a chuckle and a mirthful golden sparkle to his eyes.

“What?” he tilted his head, looking into them.

“I love you too.” 

Jaskier froze. Then he smiled softly, resting their foreheads against each other.

“Yes,” he said. “That’s what I meant. I love you.” 

“That’s the best birthday gift I could dream of,” Merlin grinned. Jaskier returned the gesture and kissed him again. 

Chapter Text

The very same morning there was a loud round of knocking on their door. Jaskier didn’t move, but Merlin sat up in seconds, wincing and massaging his temples when a headache hit him. 

There was knocking again.

“Oh, shut up,” he hissed, getting out of bed as carefully as he could, so as to not wake Jaskier. He got to the door and opened it, his eyes still half-closed. “Arthur? What the hell are you-” He yelped as the king pulled him outside and closed the door behind them. “You cabbage-head clotpole, it’s the middle of the night!” he groaned.

“No it isn’t! It’s five in the morning.” Arthur smiled. “Happy birthday, Merlin.”

“You are making it impossible,” he mumbled, but Arthur grabbed his shoulders. “What do you want that can't wait until seven?”

“I’ve got a great idea, you’re going to love it.” 

“Fine, what is it?” Merlin sighed.

“Remember how at yesterday's knights meeting one of the young recruits was terrified to voice his opinion? Even when I specifically asked him?” he asked in an eager half-whisper.

“Sure, poor lad wanted to turn around and leave before you put him in the stocks.”

“And why is that?” He seemed too happy to be talking about his people being scared of him. Merlin frowned and leaned back to look at him better.

“Have you even slept at all?” 

“Focus, Merin!” Arthur groaned. “Why do different kinds of people act differently around me?” 

“Hierarchy,” Merlin shrugged, yawning. “What’s your point, Arthur?” 

“That there doesn’t need to be a hierarchy between my people.”

Merlin raised an eyebrow.

“Doesn’t it, really?”

“Not so much that someone is scared to speak up for themself.” 

“Right. And what are you going to do about it?”

“Make it official. And exchange the table.” 

Now Merlin shook his head, finally waking completely. 

“What does the table have to do with hierarchy?” 

Arthur sighed, his expression turning less excited and more considering, more caring. About his people. 

“Right now during every meeting it’s me and Leon sitting at the two tops of the table. The rest feels like they mean less than we do.” Before Merlin could interrupt him, Arthur added: “Right, but much less.” Merlin nodded. They stayed silent for a moment more. The king tilted his head, looking at Merlin convincingly. “I want to take a few people closest to me, that are all different, and lead meetings with them during which we will all sit at a table that is round. Where all will be equal.”

Merlin’s eyes widened and sparkled. It was one of those beautiful moments in which he saw exactly how their destiny was being fulfilled. 

And, also, in which he saw Arthur turn into a better person. 

“Woah, that's… Wow,” he choked out. “That sounds… thoughtful, Arthur, really.”

“I know, right?” Arthur smirked. Merlin scoffed and rolled his eyes, but then he looked down and smiled, thinking. 

“The Round Table, eh?” He raised an eyebrow at the king. 

“The Round Table,” Arthur repeated. “It has a nice ring to it.”

“I love the idea,” Merlin admitted. Then he frowned. “Wait, that’s great and all, but why are you coming with this to me ? And in the middle of the night?”

Arthur shifted a little, scratching the back of his head briefly. 

“For the last time, Mer lin, it is not the middle of the night.” At Merlin’s raised eyebrows, he sighed. “I wanted to ask you if…”

“If…?”

“If you would agree to sit by my side. At the Round Table.” 

Merlin’s eyes widened, his whole body turning motionless and his breath getting stuck in his lungs.

“Oh my god, are you serious?” he asked finally.

“Well… yeah,” Arthur smiled a bit unsurely. “You have always been there for me, Merlin. By my side. No matter what. You deserve to be there with me as well.”

“But I’m… just a servant,” Merlin countered, a bit more quietly. 

“No,” Arthur shook his head without a moment of hesitation. “You never were ‘just a servant’.”

Merlin thought he was going to cry yet again, but instead he smiled genuinely, so brightly Arthur returned it in a second. 

He didn’t think much about his actions at this moment. Drunk with happiness and appreciation, he simply plopped into Arthur, embracing him tightly. At first taken aback, Arthur relaxed after a moment, smiling and returning the hug, for once in all honesty, holding his friend tightly. 

“Thank you,” Merlin said.

“Thank you , Merlin.” 

They parted after a few seconds, both smiling. 

“Fine, go back in there and get some more rest,” Arthur said, nodding towards the door. “No, wait a moment more.” Merlin looked at him questionably. “How are things with Jaskier?” he asked more casually now, yet still showing a well-mannered amount of concern. Seeing Merlin smile and blush to himself, he relaxed even more. “Oh, I see,” he chuckled. “So it’s all good then?” 

“I guess it couldn’t be better,” Merlin admitted.

“How so?”

“He told me that he loves me,” he smiled. Arthur returned it with a bit of reservation. 

“Do you trust him? With you?” he asked. Merlin thought for a moment and then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do.” 

This time it was Arthur who nodded.

“Then so do I.” Then he smirked again. “Then go get even more rest.” He started walking away.

“It’s still not as you think!” Merlin called after him.

“Yeah, I know, he’s a gentleman,” Arthur chuckled and then disappeared behind the corner. 

Once they were up in the morning, Merlin told Jaskier all about Arthur’s idea.

“And… he wants me to be there,” he finished the story. 

There was still a trace of resentment in Jaskier’s eyes at the sound of Arthur’s name, let alone the fact that he paid them a visit under the cover of the night. But he was aware that Arthur valuing Merlin’s opinion so much that he wants his council, as his equal, was a valid sign that his dreams might have been mistaken. 

That’s why he smiled, beaming with pride at his boyfriend, who looked nearly as happy as the night before, when they confessed to each other for the first time. 

“That’s wonderful, Merlin,” he said genuinely, pulling him into a tight embrace, caressing his back and burying his face into his raven hair. “You deserve it,” he whispered against his head. “I am so, so proud of you.”

Merlin’s arms just tightened around the bard’s torso, holding onto him for dear life as he was still taking in how fast things were moving forward. 

“Enter!” Jaskier called later into the day when there was knocking on the door again. 

George peaked inside. 

“Hello, George,” Merlin said non-committedly, looking up from the parchment on which he and Jaskier were writing a new song. “Is something wrong?”

“Not really,” he shrugged, joining his hands behind his back. “But the king wishes to see you both in the Throne Room as soon as you are available.”

The two men at the table exchanged confused looks, but they nodded at George and got up, all three of them walking towards the previously mentioned place.

“My lord,” George got Arthur’s attention as they walked inside. “Merlin and Jaskier are here.” 

“Thank you, George,” Arthur said. “And you two, of course.”

“Why did you- oh!” Merlin gasped as he saw what was standing in the middle of the room. He took a few steps towards the magnificent and enormous wooden table, touching the edges carved precisely in a round shape.

“Well - what do you think?” Arthur asked, standing next to him. Jaskier followed suit, just a bit less impressed. 

“Man, you were quick with getting this,” Merlin said, lost for words otherwise. 

“It’s actually all Gwen’s merit. She made it happen,” he admitted. 

“It’s beautiful.” 

“Merlin!” Gwaine called for him from the corner, where he was standing with Leon and Elyan. Merlin looked towards them. “Come here for a moment!”

“Excuse me for a minute,” Merlin said to both men next to him, jogging off towards the knights.

“So you believe in equality?” Jaskier asked Arthur. The king looked caught off guard, but he smiled.

“I do.”

“An unpopular statement amongst royalty, I believe.” 

Arthur frowned slightly, looking into Jaskier’s cold eyes. He straightened his posture, turning defensive, sparing a quick glance towards Merlin.

“Your judgement is unfair,” Arthur said sternly, lowering his tone so no one would hear.

“Oh really?”

“Yes. Merlin is not in any way less of a valuable man to me than any of my knights, if that is what concerns you. And so is his council. It has saved me a lot of trouble in the past years.” 

“I know that,” Jaskier nodded. “He’s devoted to you. To serving you.” 

“Is this jealousy I hear?” Arthur scoffed. 

“No,” Jaskier said casually (and truthfully). “I just hope you never forget how much he cares for you. And the kingdom.” 

Arthur looked as if he didn’t see that coming. Thus, he had no counterarguments in store. He sighed.

“The reason I brought you here is that I need you to do your job,” he said, at last convinced that he and Jaskier now only maintain business relations. “I need you to write and perform a suitable song at the official opening of the Round Table meetings. It’s going to take place on Thursday, six in the afternoon. That’s all.” 

Arthur turned away from the bard, looking at the people bringing matching chairs to the table. Jaskier kept looking at the king with a blank expression for a few more seconds. Then he turned around and joined Merlin at his side.

“Hey, guys,” he greeted the knights and they returned it. “Merlin, can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” Merlin shrugged, both of them leaving the Throne Room. “What’s wrong? You seem tense.”

“Look, I am still very happy for you and proud of you, I really am, but… be careful, alright?” 

“Jaskier, please, not this again…” he sighed. 

“I promise this is the last time I’m saying anything if you don’t want me to. But only promise me that, if not anything else. Promise me to be careful,” he asked him. 

“I always am careful, Jaskier,” Merlin said, putting one hand on Jaskier’s cheek. “You don’t have to be worried.”

So, after that, Jaskier let go. 

“You were raised by wolves and voices / Every night I hear them howling deep beneath your bed / They said it all comes down to you,” Jaskier sang at the meeting opening on Thursday, as everyone was walking into the Throne Room dressed in official clothes. Even Merlin got a new set, made out of more expensive fabrics, in rarer colours. 

Even though Jaskier had his objections, he couldn’t deny that Merlin looked breathtaking. 

“You’re the daughter of silent watching stones / You watch the stars hurl all their fundaments / In wonderment, at you and yours, forever asking more,” he sang as Arthur and Mithian were the first to sit at the table. “We’re drunk but drinking, sunk but sinking / They thought us blind, we were just blinking / All the stones and kings of old will hear us screaming at the cold”

Next came Morgana, then Gwaine and Percival, and then Leon and Elyan, followed by Gaius. 

“Remember me I ask, remember me I sing,” Next to enter were Merlin and Guinevere, taking their places next to Arthur and Mithian. “ Give me back my heart you wingless thing”

At last, inside came all the younger yet already trusted knights, one after the other, taking a few moments to fill all the seats at the table. 

“Think of all the horrors that I / Promised you I’d bring / I promise you, they’ll sing of every / Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child / Witness me, old man, I am the Wild! / Day by day oh lord three things I pray / That I might understand as best I can / How bold I was, could be - will be - still am, by god still am!” By now all the people seated were watching the performance, unwilling to disturb Jaskier before he finished the song that seemed to be one of his most enjoyed ones by far. “Fret not dear heart, let not them hear / The mutterings of all your fears, the fluttering of all your wings / Welcome to the storm, I am thunder / Welcome to my table, bring your hunger! / Think of all the horrors that I / Promised you I’d bring / I promise you, they’ll sing of every / Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child / Witness me old man, I am the / Think of all the horrors that I / Promised you I’d bring / I promise you, they’ll sing of every / Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child / Witness me, old man, old man, old man, I am the!” 

He finished the piece with an energetic instrumental outro, after which everyone applauded and Jaskier bowed low, saying it has been an honour to witness that moment and, before leaving the room, he smiled at his lover, once again showing pride through the look he gave him. 

He believed in him. That he was going to make everything even better than it already was.

Merlin came back to their chambers in the late evening, quite tired, and took off the official shirt that was bothering him.

He was satisfied with how the meeting had gone, but he was starving and he dreamt of nothing more than just going straight to sleep.

That is, until he turned to look around the chambers.

Many more candles than usual were lightened, a full dinner set on the table. But, most amazingly, in the middle of it all sat Jaskier, strumming a soft melody on his lute, smiling up at his boyfriend once he entered the room. 

“How did it go?” he asked.

“Good,” Merlin breathed. “Wha- Why?” He gestured broadly around the chambers. 

“Ever since Arthur announced the whole Round Table thing you’ve been overworking yourself day and night,” he said, putting his lute away and standing up, walking up to Merlin. “We never got to properly celebrate your birthday,” he said softly.

Merlin exhaled in amusement and threw his hands around Jaskier’s neck, who embraced his waist and pulled him close, the way their noses were touching. 

“You’re too good to me.”

“I’d say I am just right, my love,” Jaskier teased, kissing him.