#game!lambert

Geralt

- Geralt definitely prefers a quieter holiday season, despite the dull feeling that comes with midwinter he’d rather ring it in quietly.

- Cirri, however, will not stand for it and neither will you.

- There’s one day where you rush into him in the great hall shouting “Geralt, Ciri just hurt herself outside!” And that’s all you had to say.

- He beelines for the door and immediately when it opens a snowball smacks him square in the nose. Ciri, who threw it, is in utter hysterics while you’re trying desperately not to laugh too hard.

- You end up all in an extremely competitive snow ball competition in which you have no chance against one Witcher and his teleporting daughter.

- Ciri of course wins in the end when she dumps snow down Geralt’s shirt. You suspect he let her win, having decades of witcher experience, but the way Ciri cheers like its the best day of her life easily heals his bruised pride.

Eskel

- Eskel also likes quieter Holidays, but no matter what he likes to spend them indoors. He won’t admit it, but he’s a bit of a baby when it comes to the cold, so the closer he can stay to a fire the better in his opinion.

- Which is perfect for you because that means its 10x easier to drag him into the kitchen with you.

- Together you two almost single-handedly made enough treats to feed the entire keep all winter. Honey cakes, cookies, cranberry bread.

- Of course you also make Eskel taste test everything, his favorite job of all (as well as Lil Bleater’s, when she manages to sneak in).

- Eskel knows that he’s gonna have to train a little extra to make up for all the treats before the season ends, but he knows it makes you happy to take care of him.

  Lambert

- Lambert on the other hand likes to be the one to ring in the holidays with a literal BANG.

- However before that, you have gotten him to enjoy mulling wine and cider with you. He’ll joke and say that it’s because its something he can get drunk off of later, but you know he enjoys the quality time as well. Plus? he smells AMAZING afterwards.

- Once that’s done and you two have at least one waterskin full of your mulled masterpiece Lambert leads you out to the lakeside, plenty of blankets in hand and you two set off your creations.

.

You don’t really like the crowd today. They seem to be a bit too prude to enjoy your more spicy lyrics and somehow obscene enough to send you disgustingly lewd looks during the more decent ones. One man even tries to pull up your skirt as you’re passing by, but, fortunately, The Kingfisher Inn is a respectable tavern, where acts like this are punished by a broken nose and a toss into the mud outside.

One last song and you can go upstairs, take a well-deserved bath that is being prepared just now and then fall asleep with a wine glass in your hand. You go through the list of songs in your head, thinking about what you could perform to properly frame your entire performance. You take a sip of mead that's a little bit too weak.

‘Do you take song requests, lass?’ a voice from behind you asks. 

‘I’m afraid not, love, I—’ you start, turning around before your mind registers the familiarity of that voice. You can’t withhold a small, happy whimper, when you see Lambert, looking, as always, a little scruffy, his armor covered in dark spots of dried blood. He’s leaning on a table nonchalantly. ‘Good to see you, Wolf.’ You walk up to him, a bit too fast to pretend you’re at least a little bit indifferent to seeing him. You wrap your arms around his neck and feel his big hand cupping your buttcheek. ‘If I knew you were in Novigrad I would have worn a sluttier shirt,’ you whisper in his ear, firmly guiding his hand from your ass to your lower back. You back away a bit to look at his face, but still can’t find it in yourself to take your hands off his shoulders.

‘Yes, this one is hideous, you should definitely take it off,’ Lambert teases, very obviously looking at your breasts, gorgeously accentuated by your favorite corset. 

‘I will. Right after this song. In my room.’ You take a step back and take your lute from the table. ‘And you're welcome to join me there,’ you add, smiling seductively at him over your shoulder.

Even though you both traveled a lot, fate always seemed to bring the two of you together at least once a year. 

The first time it happened, a few years back in Oxenfurt, you didn't like him very much. He was impolite, self-centered, grouchy and, to be honest, smelled terrible. But he was also handsome and seemed to be impressed by your performance and weirdly infatuated with you, just showing it in his own, rude way. You were bored with sleeping with bards, other artists, and boring nobles and decided to spend a night with Lambert. You feared this might be a mistake. He was a witcher after all. A brute, barely human anymore, and on top of all that, an arsehole. You thought he might just unceremoniously throw you on the bed, screw you and then fall asleep within seconds, never giving a thought to whether you are enjoying it or not. To your surprise, the first thing he did was order a bath in his room because he knew it probably bothered you that he “smells like a fiend's shit”. You spent a long time in the warm water together, him covering your neck and breast with open-mouthed kisses and constantly complimenting your body in an awkward but oddly endearing way. He didn’t let you sleep that night. 

The second time it was in a small inn in the middle of nowhere, Nilfgard. You were the last person he expected to meet there and seemed sincerely happy to see you. On that evening, he ate you out like his life depended on it and made you cum four times before he even took his pants off. And then a few more times after he did. The innkeeper knew both of your first names by the morning even though neither of you introduced yourselves when you checked in.

At some point, your body started adding butterflies fluttering in your stomach to the hot yearning in your abdomen you felt every time you saw him. It might have been because of this warm spark in his eyes that welcomed you in the morning or maybe the way he had to adjust to small gestures of gentleness you offered him. Whether it was delicate scratching on the back, scalp massage, or small kisses you littered his chest with, for a long time he seemed startled by them, like no one ever treated him with such tenderness. Maybe it was the way his face lightened up when you wanted to talk to him about poetry or music instead of monsters and death. You even gifted him a small notebook, where you have written down all of your favorite poems and the next time you met, he knew most of them by heart. You couldn't know that he tried real hard to learn them quickly, opening the notebook only for short periods of time, to preserve the smell of your perfume that soaked into the pages. You also couldn't know he searched for you at each inn he stayed at. And felt you in every song he heard. You couldn't know that.

So your romantic soul was regularly being tempered by your pretty practical mind. You knew better than to expect some kind of exclusivity or stability from him.

After all, he was still a witcher.

‘Break a leg!’ he yells as you walk back on the stage. A few guests send him a disapproving look and you can’t help but smile at their discontent. Lambert leans against the wall in the corner and smiles softly at you. You know what song you’re going to sing. 

Silver moon slides through the night sky, hearing my voice cry here,

We’re alone between the clouds, still yearning for the dawn

Lay your head down on my lap and let the sleep come, my dear

Both so grateful and so sorry we were ever born

It seems like you finally found a common language with your audience. For a moment you see how many of them are just as tired as you are and just as lonely. A group of men in the corner stopped loudly talking like they did during the entirety of your performance until now, and now sit quietly, aggressively silencing other people who might be as much as whispering something too loud.

Hear a laughter in the darkness, quiet, strange and brittle

Smell the mint and marjoram, smell lilac and wild clove

You can't resist the urge to look at Lambert, feeling that humiliating softness you have for him overflowing you.

On a night like this we all love somebody a little

Or we just convince ourselves that it is in fact love

One lady who kept making comments to her friend while peeking at you and laughing with a mean smirk on her face now stares yearningly at her friend’s red lips and her eyes water a little. 

Head already spinning even though it's really early

Fluttering heartbeat loud like a heavy iron bell

Taste of vodka, blood, regret between our two tongues twirling 

All the reasons to die, to live, to go or to stay

Your eyes wander between guests. Most of them stare into the distance or lean against each other, a melancholically romantic mood spreading throughout the entire tavern. 

The old fountain whispers lies, makes me blush through the curtain

Bit too sure about this or maybe not sure enough

Wonder if that smile is honest, I am not so certain

But I certainly don't want to risk and call your bluff.

Applause is not very loud but it’s okay. Most guests start closing their tabs and preparing to leave. If they’re lucky, with someone. You slowly walk off the stage, not saying anything to officially finish off. No words seem appropriate now.

You look around while slowly walking towards the staircase. Lambert approaches you, a bag on his shoulder.

‘That was a new one, wasn’t it?’ he asks, pointing vaguely in the direction of the stage.

‘Yes, I wrote it last winter.’ Right after our last time together, you don’t dare to say out loud.

‘I like it.’ He puts his arm around you and you both start walking up the stairs towards your room. ‘But I must admit, not as much as I like the way you are all hot and bothered now,’ he adds quietly and then inhales sharply. ‘Fuck, is all that excitement I can smell for me?’

‘Actually,’ you smile mischievously, ‘it was for a lady at the table by the window, but since she left, you will suffice.’

‘Well, I hoped Essi Daven would be performing tonight, but I guess you will do.’

You both chuckle as you reach your room. You got it as a part of your payment for performing so it was not the best room in The Kingfisher Inn but it was enough. The bed was big, a view from the window acceptable and the water in the bath you ordered was warm and nice.

‘Make yourself at home,’ you say and immediately hear a thump of a bag hitting the floor and feel two big hands digging into your hips and pulling you into a hug from behind.

‘I missed you,’ Lambert mumbles already kissing your neck ‘and those delicious thighs of yours.’ His fingers dig deeper into your warm flesh through your skirt and he presses himself against your back more firmly. You can feel his erection against your butt. ‘You make me so hard’ he groans against the skin on your shoulder, pushing your shirt out of the way. His hands start untying your corset to get you naked as soon as possible. As it falls on the floor, you turn around and start working on removing his clothes.

He got a few new scars since the last time you saw him. One really big one right under his collarbone. You trace it with your fingers. He trembles a little.

‘Actually, I think it is a bit too small for both of us to fit in there,’ you say, as Lambert slowly guides you towards the tub. 

‘Oh we’ll fit, don’t worry.’

You do, in fact, fit. You have to sit astride on Lamber’s lap but that is one of your favorite ways to enjoy a bath in anyway. His hands explore your chest, massaging your breasts gently, as you wash his hair, trying really hard not to get soap in his eyes. He strokes your breasts, his calloused, hard fingers scraping a little bit against your skin. 

‘How come each time I look at you, you get prettier?’

You blush and let out an embarrassingly honest giggle. Drops of water shine on Lambert's muscular shoulders, glistering with the light of candles on the walls. His dick is throbbing at your core, his hands all over you. But sex in the tub this small wouldn't really be comfortable. You both finish washing yourselves and get out, drying yourselves with towels. You keep peeking at him, his muscles tense under the mosaic of scars, the lovely path of coarse hair from his belly button down to his hard cock, the unhinged expression in his cat-like eyes. You can't resist the urge to touch his dick. He moans quietly as you curl your fingers around the shaft. 

‘Fuck yes, touch me,’ he mutters, tangling his hand into your hair. ‘Do you want it inside of you?’

‘Yes, so badly.’ You can barely control your lust. Everything about this man makes your insides burn, empty of him. You give him a firm jerk, he closes his eyes and licks his lips. You press your body against his, enjoying every square inch of skin to skin contact. He pulls your face up by the hair, pressing your lips to his, sighing heavily as you smear precum on the tip of his cock. He throbs in your hand.

‘You’re so gorgeous,’ Lambert mumbles. ‘And you smell so fucking good.’ He nudges your hand away and picks you up by your waist. He places you gently on the bed, and leans over you, placing a trail of kisses gently along your leg, covering it with goosebumps. He stops right over your pussy. ‘Do you know what you're doing to me?’ he almost growls, leaving sloppy kisses on the insides of your thighs, pushing your legs wider apart. ‘A mere thought of tasting you on my tongue drives me insane. I can’t focus on anything. All I want is your cunt on my face.’ His mouth gets closer to your pussy but then moves away right before he reaches it, teasing you ruthlessly.

‘Lambert… Lambert, please,’ you whimper, trying to move your pussy closer to him, but he puts his hand on your pelvis and firmly pins you in place. 

‘So eager. So needy…’ he mumbles and you feel his hot breath between your legs. ‘Gods, I missed you so much,’ the words leave his mouth right before he dives down into you, going straight for your clit, sucking on it. The intensity of sensations attacking you flashes in white before your eyes. A litany of broken moans and whimpers tumbles from your lips. You mindlessly run your fingers through his hair and push his head even closer to you. He licks down along your slit and thrusts his tongue into your entrance. “Fuck”s and “Gods”s escape your mouth like a heretic prayer.

Suddenly Lambert pulls away but before you lift your head to see what happened, a pleasure you never even imagined strikes you. A vibration travels from your abdomen through your entire body, touching even the tips of your fingers. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your back arches, head digs into the mattress. Before the lingering feeling fully fades away, another wave hits you, vibration absolutely shattering every nerve in your body. Orgasm takes you by surprise, the usually slow build-up happens in a fraction of a second, shaking you to the core. You let out a shriek, one that you would never suspect could be born in your throat. A warm ball of pleasure pulsates in your abdomen, then slowly starts to weaken. You breath heavily, your muscles relaxing after the climax. Vibrations stop. You slowly rise, leaning on your forearms, and see Lambert between your legs with a giant smirk on his face, his chest moving a bit faster than usual.

‘What was that?’ you whisper, trying hard to calm your breath. 

‘You like it?’. The question is rude as if he didn't just see you have the most intense orgasm in your life. He strokes your leg lazily. 

‘I loved it, but what was it?’

‘I told you about the Signs? Igni, Quen, Aard, y'know?’ He looks at you waiting for confirmation. You nod your head impatiently. ‘So, if I do Aard a few times in a row, very fast, it creates a vibration. And if I'm doing it very lightly, I can not only actually do it a few times in a row and not pass out, but also use it for much more pleasurable activities than fighting.’ He leans down and places a gentle kiss on your thigh. ‘It is still a bit fatiguing since it's a spell and all, but fuck… the way you looked, the way you sounded… it's worth it.’

Before you manage to say something in response, you hear knocking.

‘Um— Miss? Is everything alright?’ a voice from behind the door asks, seems sincerely worried. You recognize the innkeeper. You try to get up, but your body is still processing what just happened to it. ‘Miss? The guests informed me there was a scream—’ 

‘Yes, I’m alright!’ you say loudly. ‘I just, uh, fell!’ Lambert chokes on a laugh at your ridiculously bad lie.

‘Alright then, miss. Do you need anything?’

‘Nothing, thank you! And sorry for the noise, I will make sure to keep it down.’

‘Thank you, miss.’ You hear footsteps going away from the door.

‘You need to be more careful, miss,’ Lambert giggles, climbing up the bed to level his body with yours and laying next to you. ‘Next time you fall, I might not be there to catch you.’

You cut off his laughter by pulling him closer by his medallion into a sloppy kiss. You can taste yourself on his lips and moan at the memory of the pleasure he gave you. 

His hands lazily wander around your body. He tenderly traces stretch marks on your breasts and butt with his fingers. You told him once you don't like them and now he makes sure to always let you know that he absolutely adores them.

‘Lambert?’ you whisper, cupping his cheek and pulling back from the kiss. He smiles. 

‘What?’ A strand of his hair tickles his forehead. ‘What does my goddess have to say to her humble yet very handsome servant?’ He smiles at you, enjoying the way you blush at his words.

But you can't say it, can you? I think I love you? That's ridiculous! Or maybe I just convinced myself it's love? ‘Did you really like my song?’ you ask, stroking the scar on his cheek. Maybe he will understand you without needing to say it?

‘I wouldn't be here fucking a bad bard into tomorrow, would I?’ He didn't.

You just smile and pull him into a kiss again. His hand slides down to your pussy and he thrusts a finger into you. Your inside offers no resistance to him, slick dripping from you.

‘Lambert,’ you moan, any melancholic and sad thoughts sinking into oblivion, as the hot ball of excitement fills you again. ‘Your cock. Please.’ He pulls his fingers out. You caress his cheekbones with your thumbs, pulling yourself closer to him, feeling his hard dick against your abdomen. ‘Please—’

‘Since you asked so nicely…’ the witcher grins proudly, his ego boosted by you begging for him, guiding himself to your entrance. He slides into you, forcing a sharp breath out of your lungs, and then firmly grabs your thighs. ‘Hold on,’ he commands as he's rolling onto his back, with you still on his cock, now straddling him. 

He tries to pick you up by your hips, but you push his hands away. He obediently puts them behind his head, accidentally – or actually pretty purposefully – showing off the amazing muscles in his arms. He smirks as you start rolling your pelvis, your body like a wave. It makes his hard cock press against your walls in a gentle, yet very satisfying way, both his and your pubic hair tingling the area around your clit lightly. 

‘My pretty girl,’ he whispers, reaching to you with one hand and caressing your thigh. ‘I dream about fucking you every night. You're taking me so well.’ He closes his eyes and his hand moves up to your clit. ‘I fucking love you so much and I want you to cum on my cock.’ 

Before your brain manages to realize what he just said, his fingers form the Aard sign, relax and form Aard again and again. Vibrations hit you, another climax starts building up. You tilt your head back and start moving faster, chasing your high, your mind overflowing with hot waves of pleasure. 

‘I am so close, Lambert,’ you whisper, leaning forward, placing your hands on his chest, trying hard with everything you have to last longer, to let this pleasure continue, but you can't. You clench around him as you orgasm, moaning, biting down on your hand to muffle sounds falling from your mouth. He follows just behind you, his hot cum starts dripping from you.

As your muscles relax, you lie down on Lambert's chest. He strokes your back and kisses your forehead. He’s still inside you, sperm slowly drips on your abdomen.

‘Aard just became my favorite sign,’ he says, smirking.

‘Mine too.’

You slowly get up and clean yourselves up. You can't stop thinking about this small sentence he said, trying to convince yourself he didn't really mean that, and your heart beating so fast because of that is, to be honest, a bit pathetic.

‘Your stamina is getting worse, dove,’ Lambert giggles as he pulls up his small clothes. ‘It's been a few minutes and your pulse is still through the roof. You're growing old.’

A burst of drunken laughter, high pitched and soft, slides into the room from the outside.

‘Someone's having a fun night,’ you comment, walking up to the window, pulling your shirt on. You try to change the subject and calm your heart a little. You can't see anyone, the owner of the voice you heard, must have already walked out of view. 

You feel a heavy hand on your shoulder and immediately after that Lambert's body heat right behind you. Your heart doesn't even consider beating slower.

‘I like Novigrad,’ Lambert says, stroking your arm lazily. ‘It's so… raw. And honest. And doesn't even stink that much.’

‘You should see Beauclair,’ you sigh and lean on the window frame. ‘It's beautiful. So colorful. So lively.’

‘Maybe we can go there.’ You are pretty sure he looks at you, but you don’t dare to check. ‘You could show me every back alley we can hide in to make love.’ This time you turn. A mischievous smile crosses his face as you blush under his lewd sight.

‘And then we could even make love in prison after we get arrested for public indecency,’ you laugh, trying to not sink into this warm feeling of safety and stability that his presence imitates.

‘I’m serious.’ Lambert gently strokes your jaw with two fingers, turning your face towards him lightly. ‘I just finished a really good contract. I have a lot of money to spend I want to spend it with you. Let’s go to Beauclair. I promise I will try to limit sleeping on the ground on our way there to a minimum.

Oh, I could sleep on the ground all winter if only you were next to me, you think to yourself.  

‘Since you asked so nicely… Alright,’ you say after a few moments of silence. ‘Let’s go to Toussaint.’

‘Great!’ Lambert puts his arms around your waist and picks you up, spinning you around a little too excitedly. ‘That’s really great, dove.’ He puts you down and crashes his lips on yours. ‘I can’t believe,’ he mumbles between kisses ‘that I will be able to do this every day.’

‘You will be able to do much more.’ You smile against his mouth, cupping his cock with your hand through the thin fabric of underwear. It is hard again.

You moved through the manor, eyes flickering from one group of huddled ladies to a small gathering of knights further down the hall. 

All were whispering, leaning in close to one another, eyes staring at you as you passed. 

The doors to your father’s study opened as you approached them. 

Inside, your father sat at his desk. To his right was Dain, his advisor, and to his left was Lorika, your governess.

“Ah, Y/N, darling.” Your father, Lord Venant, lifted his hand, beckoning you further into the room. “We were just chatting about you.”

“Just as everyone else was, I suppose.” You looked to your right, spotting the three knights in the corner of the study just out of your visibility. 

Your stomach twisted up. Something wasn’t sitting right, but you weren’t sure what it was. 

“Lambert’s here, father.”

“Who?” Your father furrowed his brow. 

“Lambert.”

When he showed no signs of knowing the name, you spoke again.

“The witcher, father.”

Dain leaned down to whisper something to your father, who nodded his head. 

“Ah, yes. That Lambert. Well, what is he doing here?”

“I have no clue. I have only heard through whispers.” You shrugged your shoulders, moving to look at the books on one of the many bookshelves in the study. “I was going to ask you the same.”

“Well, I haven’t the slightest clue.”

“Perhaps he’s here about the contract the Commander put out a few days ago.” Dain thought out loud. “There’s been a disappearance of a few villagers to the east. Many think it’s a dragon of some sort.”

“Then I suppose the Commander will handle the witcher. Lorika, take my daughter elsewhere.” Your father waved his hand dismissively. “I have matters to tend to.”

“Come along, dear.” Lorika moved towards the door, holding her hand out towards you. 

As you left the study with her, you began to mess with your fingers. 

“Lorika, have you talked to him?” You looked over at her.

She didn’t meet your gaze, shaking her head softly. 

“He didn’t want to hear anything I had to say, I’m afraid.”

Your shoulders slumped, upset and disheartened. 

You had asked her to talk to your father, to see if perhaps he would be willing to spend more time with you as you wanted to have a chance to bond with him and get to be with him. He let his duties get in the way of his relationship with you. 

Things had gone downhill since your mother passed during childbirth, or so Lorika told you. She had known your father for decades, so you thought perhaps she could get to him better than you could. 

“Don’t let it get you down, dear.” Lorika placed her hand on your shoulder. “Your father is just…. He is a complicated man.”

“An ass is what he is.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

You lifted your head to see Lambert standing at the end of the hall. 

Lorika brought you to a stop, her hand crossing over in front of you to make sure you didn’t pass her. 

“What is it you want, witcher?” She asked him, her tone flat. 

“Sheesh, you’d think I didn’t save the lord and his wife all those years ago.” Lambert rolled his eyes, taking steps towards you both. “Don’t I deserve a little more of a friendly tone?”

“What are you doing here?” You spoke, tilting your head to the side a little. 

You knew very well of the bond you shared with the witcher— or the bond you were supposed to share. One your destinies were supposedly intertwined. The Law of Surprise, or whatever it was. 

But he didn’t care. Fuck em was more accurately what he had said on more than one occasion when asked about fate. 

The man before you was no more than a stranger, dropping by once every few years for a contract.

Lambert looked at you for a few moments. 

“Here for a contract, kid. Where’s pops at?”

“In his study.”

“Y/N!” Lorika looked at you with widened eyes. 

You moved around her arm and walked passed Lambert, not bothering to meet his gaze anymore. He wasn’t concerned about what his invocation of the Law of Surprise may have caused, so why should you be? 

Lorika wanted to follow you, but she couldn’t leave the witcher to find the lord’s study by himself.  

“This way, witcher.”

***

Two Nights Later

Thump. 

You jolted awake, blinking your eyes rapidly in an attempt to clear the sleep from them. Using one hand to push the hair from your face, you used the other to push yourself up into a sitting position. 

Thump.

Your head snapped in the direction of the balcony. Your heart began to race wildly in your chest. Was someone out there? Was something out there? 

You pushed the blankets off of yourself and slipped out of bed, carefully stalking towards the large balcony doors. 

Thump.

The feeling of something behind you made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. Someone was behind you. 

You spun around to see a large, tall figure stand just a few feet from you. Before you could even get so much as a scream out, a sack was put over your head and something collided with the back of your head. 

***

The Next Morning

Lambert moved through town, his pocket heavy with coin from the contract he had just finished. Now, he’d be leaving the town, and soon the entire duchy of Toussaint. 

“Did you hear the lass is missing?” 

“Snatched right from her bed in her sleep!”

“I heard she was taken from the garden last evening.” 

Lambert heard whispers and murmurs, but he paid them no mind, figuring there was no importance to the gossip. 

“Nay! It was her bed! Kidnappers came in the night and took her from the balcony!”

The witcher untethered Champion from the post and mounted him before he started for the road that led out of town. 

However, Lambert didn’t make it very far before he was stopped. 

A lady on horseback crosses his path, blocking him from leaving. 

Champion reared his head and whinnied. 

“What the fuck are you doing, lady?” 

“Master witcher, I am Lady Y/N’s governess.” The woman spoke urgently. She appeared familiar to Lambert, though he had always been terrible with names so it was no surprise he couldn’t remember hers. 

“Yeah?”

“I am afraid something terrible has happened to her, master witcher.”

“Terrible? Like what?”

“I-I’m not certain, but I know she’s gone missing. Please come back to the manor with me.”

Lambert nodded his head without hesitation. 

***

“Witcher! I thought you were already paid your dues.” Lord Venant spoke as Lambert and Lorika entered his study, his deep voice echoing off of the high ceilings.

“I asked him to assist in finding Lady Y/N.” Lorika told him. 

“You what?” He turned his head sharply to the governess as she approached his desk. 

Lambert took note of the sudden increase in Venant’s heartbeat, but brushed it off. The man didn’t care for the witcher, so perhaps that was the reason for it. 

“He can find her, my lord.”

“When did it happen?” Lamberet put his hands on his belt, eyeing the half a dozen knights gathered at the other side of the study. 

“Late last night.” Venant said. He brought his hand up to rub his brow. 

“When I went to wake her for breakfast, I found her room empty.” Lorika told the witcher. 

“Has she mentioned running away before?”

“She’s joked about running away for years.” Venant waved his hand dismissively. “I have my best men searching the entire countryside for her now. She’s probably run off to play with her friends somewhere in the woods.”

“Uh-huh.” Lambert nodded slowly. He didn’t buy a word the lord spoke. His golden eyes flickered to Lorika. “Mind taking me to Y/N’s room?”

“What do you need from her room?” Venant asked, sitting up in his chair. 

“Just to see if there are any clues as to where she is.”

“I can take you. This way, master witcher.” 

***

Lorika’s heart was racing the entire way across the manor to your room. 

Lambert followed a few paces behind her, his eyes carefully scanning every inch of the halls. 

“Here we are. Lady Y/N’s room.” Lorika opened the door and pushed it open, then stepped aside to let the witcher in. 

“What do you think happened with her?” Lambert asked as he stepped into the room. 

He took in a breath, immediately picking up your sweet, floral scent. But almost instantly, your scent was overtaken by something putrid, something dirty and unkempt. The stench made his nose curl.

“I-I don’t know.” Lorika stayed in the doorway, absentmindedly rubbing her arm as she looked around. 

“Was anyone in here after you realized Y/N was missing?” Lambert moved towards the wardrobe. The doors were opened and an article of clothing seemed to be hanging out. 

“No. I made sure everyone knew to stay out.”

“Who else comes in here besides Y/N?”

“Regularly? Just myself. Sometimes the tailor will come and fit her dresses here.”

“Was the tailor here recently?”

“No…. Why do you ask, master witcher?” Lorika let her arms fall to her sides. 

Lambert picked up the article of clothing, finding it to be the sleeve of a blouse. The hanger was broken, laying in pieces on the floor of the wardrobe. He opened the doors of the wardrobe all the way so he could have a better look inside. 

“Someone else was here. Smells like they bathed in horse shit.”

“Someone was here?” Lorika moved towards Lambert. 

“Is she missing any–,”

“There’s a coat missing.” She cut him off, nodding her head. “It’s-It’s blue. Blue with, uh, with, um, white stitching. Oh gods, did someone take her, Lambert?”

“Calm down. I’ll figure this out.” He placed the blouse back in the wardrobe and turned to survey the room from where he stood. 

There was another scent in the air that he could identify, another terrible, unwashed, and vile odor. 

Two men. 

Lambert took a few steps towards the balcony doors, thinking that there might be clues there, when he spotted dark red spots on the floor. They were small and very easy to miss. 

He knelt down and inspected them a little closer. His brow furrowed and his nose curled up in a snarl. 

“What is that?” Lorika asked, her voice hesitant. 

“Blood.”

“Is- Oh, gods. Please tell me it isn’t hers. Please, witcher–,”

“Lorika, please.” Lambert stood to his full height, turning to face the governess. “Let me do my job.”

Her eyes were full of tears, full of distraught, full of tears as she gazed up at him. She clutched at the pendant around her neck. 

“Promise me you’ll bring her back, witcher.”

“I don’t make promises, woman–,”

“You owe it to her!”

“I don’t owe her anything!”

“Horse shit!” Lorika cursed. “She is your Child Surprise, witcher! She is your destiny, your fate! And you’ve just left all of it to rot!”

Lambert locked his jaw as he looked down at her. 

“Find her.” 

Without another word, Lorika left the room. 

Lambert listened to her leave. When he was finally alone, he let out a breath, his hand coming up to rub his eyes. 

Fucking destiny. 

He wandered around the room searching for any more potential leads before finding a scarf of yours that carried your scent should he need it. Then, he began to follow the scent trail of the pig shit-smelling men.

***

Lambert found himself approaching an unfamiliar room. It had large double doors and two guards outside of it. Both of the guards immediately became defensive when they saw Lambert. 

“Halt!” One shouted. 

“Turn back now!”

“Relax, fellas. I’m searching for Lady Y/N.” Lambert rolled his eyes. 

“You’re doing a fucking good job, mate.” One laughed. 

“She isn’t this way, witcher. We’d know.” 

“The trail I’m following is taking me this way, so can I just–,”

“No, you can’t.”

Lambert looked between the two men. He really didn’t have the patience for all of this. 

“Fine. Have it your way, tin cans.” He signed Axii, causing both guards to go into a dazed state, which would give him enough time to pass. 

The witcher began to make his way towards the doors when he heard voices talking on the other side. One of the voices was Lord Venant.

“There’s a witcher roaming my halls, Dain.”

“I know, my lord.”

“Lorika is the cause of it all!”

“I will have a word with her.”

There was a brief pause of silence. 

“What if he finds something?”

“He won’t find anything, my lord. The men were thorough and meticulous.”

“They were, weren’t they? Hm…. But he’s a witcher! What if he does some sort of…. Witcher-y thing and finds out what happened to her?”

Lambert stepped away from the door. His shoulders slumped as realization hit him. 

Lord Venant had something to do with your disappearance. 

The witcher gritted his teeth together, fingers curling tightly into fists beside himself. 

He reached over and took a sword from the guard to his left. He used the same sword to behead both guards, who were still under the influence of Axii. 

Lambert twirled the sword around in his hand, adjusting his grip, and kicking the double doors open. 

Venant jumped in his seat.

The second voice had come from his advisor, Dain, who moved to stand to Venant’s left. 

There were only two knights in the room with them to serve as protection. Lambert smirked just a little. It was almost too easy. 

“Hey, dickhead.” Lambert nodded to Venant. His eyes briefly flickered to Dain. “I honestly forgot your name.”

“Dain.”

“Don’t care. Listen. I am here to find Y/N.” Lambert stopped at the table across from Venant. “What happened to her?”

Venant glared at the witcher. With a little wave of his hand, the two knights were charging Lambert. He signed Aard at Venant and Dain, blasting them both backwards. Then, he turned his attention to the knights. 

They were easy to take care of. They were trained, sure, but they were not witchers. 

One ended up pinned to the wall with the sword that belonged to his comrade in the hall, the blade piercing his chest. The other was left in three pieces on the floor: his head, one hand, and the rest of his body. 

Lambert turned to face the remaining two people in the room. 

Dain was helping Lord Venant to his feet and trying to rush him out of the room, but Lambert quickly stopped them, taking a knife from the holster in his boot and launching it at Dain’s calf. He collapsed to the floor, crying out in pain. 

Venant stumbled a little as Dain nearly took him down too. But the lord of the manor saw his escape and took it, running down the hallway as fast as he could. 

Lambert could have chased after him, but he decided against it. 

He grabbed Dain by the front of his tunic and hauled him to his feet, but not before pulling the dagger from his calf. Dain hissed at the pain, teeth bared. 

“What the fuck did you do to her?” Lambert growled, bringing the dagger up to his throat. 

“Why do you-do you care, you mutant prick?” Dain panted, tilting his head as best as he could. “You don’t care about her! You never have!”

“She’s my fucking Child Surprise.” Lambert fought the urge to drive the blade of the dagger into the man’s throat. 

Dain laughed, though it sounded maniacal and crazed. Lambert did not like that. 

“Hey! Focus!” He used his hand that didn’t hold the knife to slap Dain’s cheeks to get his attention. “Focus, fuck face! Focus right here, or I’ll pop your fucking knee caps off!”

“She’s probably halfway to Sodden now.” Dain said. “Who knows what they’ll do with her once they get her across the Pontar.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Venant sold her off to some bloke up north. Wouldn’t speak much on it, but he’d pay the right price for a wife.”

“I didn’t think Venant would stoop so low as to sell his only fucking daughter.”

“The man must’ve said the right number.” 

Lambert pressed the blade uncomfortably against Dain’s neck. 

“What route did they take?”

“I don’t know.”

“You better fucking tell me or you’re going to be losing pieces in the next five seconds, starting with your fucking ears–,” Lambert lifted his dagger up towards the side of Dain’s head. 

“I-I wasn’t told what route they took! I wasn’t told! But! But! I heard something about going to Belhaven!”

“If you are lying to me–,”

“That’s what I heard! I swear to the gods! I heard Venant mention it to one of the men who took Lady Y/N!”

Lambert wanted to keep pressing for more information, but he could hear heavy footsteps coming down the hallway. More knights were coming. 

The witcher threw Dain down onto the floor. 

“Tell Venant that he’s a dead man walking.” Lambert sheathed his dagger and went to one of the windows before jumping out. 

***

Three Days Later

You listened to the faint sound of music coming from the tavern downstairs. There must’ve been a bard singing or playing an instrument. Maybe both. Who knew. You couldn’t hear that well from the room you were stowed away in. 

You watched as rain dripped from the window sill and splashed on the wooden floor just inside the room. 

The breeze that blew in from the window was chilling and bitter. It made your toes numb from the cold, threatened to cause a cold in your chest. 

You were sitting on the floor in a corner of the room. Your hands were bound in front of you. The rope was thick and coarse. The fibers were itchy and irritating your skin even more so than what you had already done in your attempts to free yourself. 

There was a makeshift gag wrapped around your head, a cloth of some sort to keep you from trying to scream for help. 

The gang of men that had taken you always left you tied up. When you were traveling, you were strewn across a horse like a deer ready to be harvested. When they decided to find an inn, you were left on the floor at the opposite corner of the door while they went downstairs to enjoy themselves however they wanted. The latter happened just twice.

Both times, you tried to escape. Both times, you failed. 

Now, you were plotting your next escape. A part of you, however, was starting to feel the effects of hopelessness. These men were stronger than you. They knew the world better than you. They had weapons. They had muscles. They had power. 

You had nothing. You were nothing without your father, and even he couldn’t stand to be around you. 

You blinked the tears away hastily, reminding yourself that you shouldn’t cry. It wouldn’t help anything. 

The door opened suddenly, causing you to jump. You turned your head to see one of your kidnappers stumbling in. 

He slammed the bottle in his hand down onto a table, but it fell off onto the wooden floor with a clank. 

“Ah, fuck.”

He knelt down to pick up the bottle, groaning as he did so. 

“Just a few more days, m’lady.” His slurred words were directed to you even though he hadn’t once looked in your direction. 

You wanted to ask what he meant, but the gag prevented you from doing so. 

A noise from across the hall caught the man’s attention. It sounded like a short lived scream. 

“I’m gonna see what kinda trouble Rothley’s gettin’ up to. You don’t go no where.” He pointed at you and then snickered at his own joke as he left the room. 

As you were left alone, your mind began to wander. 

A few more days? Were they going to kill you? Would they set you free perhaps? Would you finally be able to go home?

There was a loud thump against the door. You jumped where you sat, eyes flighting over to the door. 

A few moments of silence followed the thumb and then suddenly something that sounded like a person was choking came from the other side of the door. 

Panic began to set into your bones. What was happening out there? 

The door to the room flew open and you pushed yourself into the corner, closing your eyes tightly in an effort to escape the hellish nightmare you were in. 

When you didn’t hear the boisterous drunks, you opened your eyes. 

The witcher stepped into the room and almost immediately, you felt relief. You were safe. 

His eyes found you and without hesitation, he moved to cut your binds. 

“Always managing to get yourself into trouble, kid.” Lambert pulled the gag from your mouth as he knelt down in front of you. 

“I was getting myself out of it too.” You rubbed the raw spots left behind on your wrists from chaffing. 

“You were doing a hell of a job.” 

Once the rope around your ankles was cut, Lambert sat back on his knees, gazing at you for a moment. There was bruising around your temple and on one cheek, but other than that you didn’t appear to be too hurt. 

“They didn’t get you too bad, did they?”

“Think I hurt myself more trying to get them than anything.” You muttered as you pushed yourself to your feet. “I can’t imagine how worried my father must’ve been to ask for your help.”

The witcher watched you walk towards the door. His hand came to his brow. 

“Y/N, your father was the one behind this.”

You turned to face him, confused. You watched the witcher as he stood to his full height. 

“You’re lying.”

“Wish I was, kid, but the spineless prick sold you to someone in the North.”

You stared at the witcher. The words that came from his mouth didn’t make sense. 

You shook your head, crossing your arms. 

“I-I don’t believe you, witcher.”

“You think I’d lie to you about something like that?” Lambert almost seemed offended. 

“Perhaps.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

“Whatever. If you go back home, this will happen again.”

“Why would you care?” You asked him, your voice quiet as your brows furrowed together. “You’ve never cared before.”

Lambert couldn’t find a good excuse. There wasn’t one really. He was afraid of whatever destiny was, whatever fate he had bestowed not only on himself but on you as well years ago. 

“Yeah, that’s right.” He muttered, messing with a strap around his forearm. “So are you going back home?”

You knew he wasn’t lying. You didn’t know how you knew as you barely knew this man. But there was something in your gut that told you he was honest. 

You bit your cheek, turning your head to look at the corner you had been stuck in for the night. 

“Why did he want to get rid of me, Lambert?”

“Couldn’t tell you, kid.” The witcher shook his head gently.

Tears came to your eyes. Your fingers fisted the material of your nightgown. 

“What happens to me now, Lambert?” You whispered. 

Your voice was full of fear and uncertainty, but even all that trepidation couldn’t hide the heartbreak. 

You were a fourteen-year-old girl with no home, no coin, and not even a change of clothes. You had no knowledge of the world beyond that of the manor you grew up in. 

Golden eyes found yours. 

He couldn’t just drop you off a few hours away in another village. You wouldn’t be safe. Who knew what could happen to you. 

“I…. I know we don’t….” Lambert didn’t know how to say what he was thinking. Thoughts were hard to put into words. “Winter is almost here. We witchers, uh, we leave the Path when it’s cold and shit.”

“Where do you go?” You asked.

“Place called Kaer Morhen. School of the Wolf. It’s in Kaedwen.”

“Kaedwen.” You repeated. “That’s far away.”

“It is. But if you’d like, you can come with…. with me. To there.”

You looked down at the floor in front of him for a moment as you thought about his offer. 

To travel all the way to Kaedwen for the winter…. It would take weeks! You’d never traveled that far before. And with a stranger no less.

“I think that’s okay.” You nodded.

“Alright then. We should go before they start a mob.” Lambert started to move towards you so he could lead the way out.

“A mob?” You repeated, concern filling your voice.

“Villagers don’t take kindly to witchers coming in and killing a bunch of people without any explanation, and I don’t take kindly to giving an explanation.”

You began to follow him.

It was only when you were at the top of the stairs and heard movement in the tavern below that you froze, your hands gripping the railing. 

“Lambert?”

“What?”

“I-I can’t leave.”

He stopped in the middle of the stairs and turned around to look up at you. 

“Why not?”

You felt silly and embarrassed for even allowing him to see you in your nightgown, but it would be even worse if more people saw you in such a state. 

Wordlessly, you gestured to what you wore.

The nightgown had once been a pretty white color, but now it was brown around the bottom hem and there were parts that were torn from your escape attempts. You also wore no shoes, your feet dirty and your toes chilly. The weather was far from appropriate for bare feet. 

“Shit.” Lambert cursed. He untied the cloak he wore and offered it to you. “We’ll, uh, we’ll work on getting you clothes.”

“Thank you.” You murmured quietly, taking the cloak and wrapping it tightly around yourself. 

“Come on. We need to go.” He placed his hand on your shoulder and guided you out of the inn.

Taglist: @samuraigrl89 @burningcoffeetimetravel @open--till--midnight @beautifulsweetschaos @gm_abbo @thefirelordm @here4thespice @many-fandoms-lover @one-eyed-captain-kinky @sparrowsparadise @bluscryn @blushingskywalker @buckysxgal @lady-of-glass-and-bone @super-calithehamm  @bitquirkydoe

Your eldest, a bright and bubbly girl named Maren, ran from her brother, an intelligent and cheerful boy named Tavish.

A horse whinnied, stealing your attention from the children.

Coming down the dirt road that led to your home was Lambert.

You finished hanging up the dress of Maren’s and then wiped your hands off on your skirt.

Maren and Tavish took off past you, racing each other to get to the witcher.

He slid down from Champion’s saddle to greet them with open arms.

“Careful, you two.” You cautioned them. “Don’t want to scare Champion.”

Lambert ruffled Tavish’s hair, his golden eyes flickering up to you. He gave you a little sideways grin and shook his head. That was his way of telling you it was okay.

“Lambert! Lambert!” Tavish tugged on his jerkin.

“Hey, squirt!” Lambert picked the boy up, his face scrunching up when he realized Tavish’s clothes were soaking wet. “Why are you wet?”

“We were playing in the stream!” Maren laughed.

“Alright, you two.” You placed your hand on the back of Maren’s head. “Lambert’s probably exhausted after such a long day of traveling. Let’s give him some space.”

“If I wanted space, I wouldn’t have come here.” He spoke quietly. His words caused a warmth to fill your chest. “I have something for you two.”

Lambert placed Tavish down on the ground and went to one of his saddle bags.

“What did you get me?” Tavish jumped up and down.

“Ah, ah, mister. Ladies first.” Lambert took out an item that was wrapped in a cloth. “For you, sweetie. Got this while I was in Cintra.”

Maren’s face lit up as she hastily unwrapped the gift. She squealed in delight, clutching the doll to her chest.

“And for you, little man.” Lambert handed Tavish a small book. “This comes from a good friend of mine. He made it himself.”

Tavish looked at the front of the book, admiring the golden lettering even though he had yet to learn to read anything beyond basic words.

“It says ‘Tales of theWhite Wolf.’’ Maren read out loud.

“Momma! Momma! We have to read it tonight!” Tavish exclaimed.

“We will, darling.” You nodded your head with a smile. “Why don’t you both go put those gifts inside so they aren’t ruined?”

You watched as they hurried into the house.

As the door closed, you turned back to the witcher.

“You look rough.” He held his hands out for you. You allowed him to take your hands and draw you into his chest.

“Thank you for that.”

Lambert leaned down to kiss your lips.

“I meant it in the nicest way.”

“It’s just been a busy day.” You shake your head with a smile. “There was a storm three days ago, and I’ve had quite a bit of cleaning up to do because of it.”

“What kind of cleaning up?”

“Oh, just the fun kind.” You sighed. “A few fences were torn down by a couple fallen trees. There’s a window that was broken on the house around the back. A door to the barn broke off its hinges too. And there’s been a lot of just cleaning up sticks and twigs. The kids have been helping me where they can, but there’s only so much they can do.”

“I can help.” Lambert didn’t hesitate to offer.

“I can’t let you do that, Lambert.” You shook your head. He almost seemed offended that you declined his help.

“Why the hell not?”

“You haven’t come here to fix up and tidy things around my home.” Your answered had a deeper meaning to it, and he knew this.

The witcher rolled his eyes.

“I came here for you and those two kids inside.” He nodded to your home that stood behind you. “Don’t be such a stubborn ass about it and let me help you, bug. Okay?”

You were quiet for a few moments.

“What’s the worst that could happen? I keep coming around?”

You smiled, looking past him to where his horse still stood.

“If you’d really like nothing more than to chop wood and fix fences all day–,”

“For you, I would do anything.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead. “But only for you. If anyone else asks, the answer is a big fat no.”

Tavish and Maren came out of the house.

You started to pull away from Lambert but he kept you close.

“Bug, don’t ever think that I come here for anything other than you and those two.” Lambert murmured quietly, honey eyes holding your gaze.

You nodded your head, your heart swelling with something you hadn’t felt in a long time.

He let you go and walked past you towards your children.

“Alright, you two. Do either of you know how to chop wood?”

“No!”

“Well then, today is a good day to learn!”