Idea T_T
Jaskier was utterly tired, old and tired. He was the last one left after the conjunction, magic was twisted yet again, monsters dying and the Witchers… the Witchers died out one by one… Leaving Jaskier who survived the first and now the second, living on like always.
He missed Geralt, beyond words and emotion, there was nothing left to describe such pain.
Birdsong drew his attention out the window, a scowl pulling at his brows as he watched the people cheer and spit vitriol towards a prisoner, another burning, another false witch. He had stopped caring about things like that long ago, once he was the sandpiper in another life… now he was just a bitter old man who longed for those he once lost.
"Master Rivia?" A voice pulled his attention from the window of his home to the door, blinking back the magic that radiated off the boy.
A deep sigh escaped his lips. "If you are here for lessons then I'm afraid I will not help you, if you're here for stories then that is also a no. If you're here for herbs then tell me what you seek but I will not let you drag the soldiers of Camelot to my door, so speak and be gone, boy."
"You know what I am?" The boy asked in a surprised stutter, but the fear lacing in those words pulled Jaskier to a halt.
"Magic wafts off you in waves, you reek of it." He replied slowly, watching as the boy's eyes flash gold in a way that sent a pang of agony down Jaskier's heart. It had been so very long that he had seen the familiar molten gold of Geralt's eyes. "If you didn't come to me for magical means, then why are you here?"
"Gaius sent me to pick up his order…" The boy stuttered, hand fiddling with the red scarf. "How..?"
Muttered curses left Jaskier's lips as he flicked his fingers to slam the door behind the boy closed, another flick of the wrist set up a silencing spell, blocking all sounds from escaping the hut and from entering it. "That old fool, I told him I wanted no part in this! I just want peace! You must be Merlin."
"Yes, how do you know that?" The boy – Merlin – asked this time, less afraid and more determined. Ah, the folly of the youth.
"You are also Emrys that the druids speak of," Jaskier replied while ignoring the other question, watching from the corner of his eye as he prepared Gaius's order. The flinch was one he was very familiar with, a burden of a name that he did not wish to hold. "A Burden you don't wish to carry."
"Yes."
Nodding Jaskier turned and raised his brows as he came face to face with the boy. "The druids call me Reiðivonn, Rage of Hope. Ironic, isn't it? That the men who the druids claim to hold such power want nothing of their prophecies? This is what Gaius ordered, tell him to remember my warning."
"What name do you prefer then?" Merlin asked after he took the satchel of herbs, brows furrowed in confusion.
"I am called Master Rivia by all now… but once long ago I went by another name, Jaskier." He replied with a tired sigh, fingers flicking to open the door for him. "Goodbye Merlin of Ealdor, may your Path be safe this night."