#lambert fic

Y/N sighs. Of course it had to be him.

“Where is he?” she asks Vesemir, not really trying to hide her reluctance.

“Probably in his room. I’ll take you there.” he offered. Y/N nods and follows Vesemir out of the library. They walked through the castle in silence while Y/N was trying to think of what to say to Lambert once she was there.

When they finally arrived, Vesemir knocked on old doors.

“What?” they heard him grumbling from the other side and then the doors opened. He slightly raised his eyebrows when he noticed Y/N.

“We need your help.” Vesemir said.

“’Course you do.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

“Y/N is an oneiromancer.” Vesemir started but Lambert immediately realized where this conversation is going.

“No. I’m not letting her bewitch me!” he shook his head.

“I’m not going to ‘bewitch’ you.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She crosses arms on chests while stepping closer to him. Lambert instantly steps backwards.

“We are just going to have a quick nice chat about your last encounter with Geralt.”

“And that’s supposed to help us get him back? How?” he frowns, crossing his arms as well.

“So many questions.” Y/N sighs and passes by him, entering his room without his approval. Lambert was about to protest but Y/N was getting inpatient.

“I’m going to need a chair, right here” she points next to Lambert’s bed. “You’re going to lay down and drink this.” Y/N opens her leather bag and pulls out a small bottle of sleep potion.

“You can’t be serious. I’m not drinking that.” Lambert complains.

“Since you two have things figured out, I’m sure you don’t need me. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Vesemir quickly adds and before anyone could say anything, he leaves down the hall. Y/N looks at Lambert again, and throws a small bottle at him. He caches it but doesn’t even look at the bottle.

“I said I’m not drinking that. Are you deaf?”

“Listen, witcher.” Y/N is annoyed at this point but she keeps her voice steady and calm. “I’m trying to help you find YOUR friend. Are you really going to make this harder than it already is?” she crosses arms.

“It’s harder because you got involved, not because of me!” he raises his voice slightly. Y/N steps closer, getting into his personal space.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m out. Okay? You’re on your own.” Y/N tried to sound patient, but Lambert could still sense the annoyance in her voice. All of a sudden, he grins.

“Deal. If it doesn’t work right away, you and that ridiculous trumpeter are out. By the first rays of the sunlight.”

Y/N’s jaw slightly clenches. “Deal.” she agrees, not wanting to break the eye contact first. Lambert looks at her for couple of seconds longer and then suddenly turns around, grabs the chair next to him and effortlessly moves it next to his bed.

He opens the bottle that Y/N gave him and looks at its content. Dark green liquid didn’t exactly smell like honey and flowers but Y/N knew how powerful the potion was.

“Go on. Drink all of it.” Y/N says as she sat down. Lambert sits on the edge of his bed. He hesitates for a few moments before finally drinking the potion.

“Lovely.” he manages to speak before coughing a couple of times. Y/N grabs an empty bottle from his hand and leans back into her chair.

“Okay, now, lay down. I’ll explain how this works.”

Lambert doesn’t say anything but lays down and crosses arms on his chests.

“Relax. Firstly, we need to discuss the details of your bond with Geralt.”

“We are friends, brothers. There’s nothing to discuss there.” Lambert says shrugging his shoulders but Y/N could swear she heard a bit of discomfort in his voice. He wasn’t comfortable with sharing his feelings with her.

“Lambert, my ability works only if my clients are honest with me. Do not lie. Don’t keep the details from me. I need to know how strong is your bond. Try to flesh out feelings, emotions…Truth is essential in this.”

Y/N looks at him. At least he looks like he’s listening to her.

“So, what are you going to do once you see that dream of yours?”

“I won’t see anything. You will.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You will. Now, please, I need the strongest, most complete memory you have of Geralt.”

Lambert hesitates. This wasn’t what he expected when he agreed to do this. After a couple of seconds, he decides to share the memory of their first shared hunt - the one where they killed Chort, who came out of the dark forest while they were still tracking him. The Chort was a beast; large male who was protecting his territory and clearly didn’t want them near, but Geralt and Lambert already got paid by the nearby villagers to get rid of the creature.

“Did he save your life?” Y/N asks. Lambert nods, looking at the dark ceiling. He could still remember the moment he thought he was dying. His stomach twisted just like it did that day.

“What else should I know?”

 It took a while for Y/N to gather information mostly because Lambert didn’t know how to express his feelings but Y/N didn’t rush him.

He’s a witcher after all, she’d remind herself.

By what she heard, they had a complicated relationship and often disagreed but they did respect each other and had a strong bond.

“Alright now, relax, close your eyes. And try to fall asleep. Empty your mind.” she said, and with one quick flick of hand she increased the flames in the small fireplace. The room got warmer almost immediately.

Lambert’s face relaxed after a couple of minutes. Y/N stayed quiet. This was the most vital part. He was supposed to feel like he fell asleep but keeping him in the state between deep sleep and consciousness was Y/N’s job. Sometimes it took a while, so remaining attentive was essential.

She focused, took a slow, steady breath and looked at Lambert. His brows furrowed and his jaw slightly clenched. Then suddenly she felt a soft ‘click’ inside her mind.

Y/N did it! The dream was there. Now, she had to wait. And hope the main dream doesn’t mix with the rest. Sometimes, she couldn’t do anything about it. The sleeper’s mind just went too far off. But, for some reason, she knew that won’t happen now.

After what seemed like forever, Lambert slowly opened his eyes. Although he just woken up, he looked tired. Y/N gave him a minute to sit up and gather his thoughts.

“So?”

“It worked.”

Lambert didn’t waste time explaining. He got up, grabbed his swords and rest of the equipment, and left the room. Y/N followed.

“What did you see?”

“Vesemir will know what to do. Come on.” he hurried her, taking sharp left turn on the main corridor.

“It’s the middle of night!” Y/N reminded him.

“I’m certain he won’t mind.” Lambert said and stopped himself in front of the last door in dim corridor. He grabbed the knob and, without knocking first, pushed the doors and let himself in.

Vesemir, who was sitting next to the window, on an old wooden chair, immediately stood up.

“I know where he is.” Lambert said.

Vesemir’s lips slightly parted. He didn’t even attempt to hide his surprise.

“Kaer Seren.” Lambert said calmly but Y/N immediately heard there was something else behind those words. Vesemir started pacing around the room, mummering occasional swear words for himself.

“You know that place?” Y/N asked, realizing that the answer was obvious but she wanted to be included.

Lambert looks at Vesemir for the explanation. The older witcher doesn’t say anything but approaches the small wooden box that laid on his nightstand and opens it. He reaches inside and Y/N immediately realises he’s holding the letters they got from Geralt’s abductors.

“You see, Y/N, the person who did this, chose that place for a reason.” he says, handling the letter to Y/N. She approaches and slowly takes them from his unsteady hands.

“Kear Seren, or Caer y Seren, if you prefer Elder, used to belong to witcher school of the Griffin. Through decades, the Griffins gathered a massive collection of books about magic in their library. Council of Mages did not like this - mostly because the Griffins refused to share their knowledge. So, naturally, when they got their chance, mages destroyed the castle and its residents. The school never recovered. They are, of course, a few of its members left, but they don’t have a home to return to once the winter hits.”

“That’s…awfully depressing, actually.” Y/N admits, glancing at the letters in her hands.

“But that…That is supposed to be a lesson for us.” Vesemir says with a hint of warning in his voice.” For Geralt.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. “Are you suggesting that the Mages did this to-”

“I am not suggesting anything just yet.” he interrupts her.

Vesemir knew how this whole situation looked like.

Lambert turns to Y/N. “If this was your kind-”

“My kind is not me. I’m helping you and your friend. Do not forget that, witcher!” Y/N warns him, slightly raising her voice. Lambert’s jaw tightens and he slowly starts to walk towards Y/N. “That won’t make much difference to me if it turns out they hold him captive.”

Y/N felt the rage ignite inside her. She starts marching in Lambert’s direction, lifting her arm up to summon the spell. “You arrogant fuck, how dare- “

“Alright, that’s enough!” Vesemir stands between them, raising hands to stop them both from coming any closer. “Let’s talk about this in the morning. Everyone is tired and there’s nothing we can do in the middle of the night.” he says calmly. Neither Lambert or Y/N say anything. They both still stare at each other over Vesemir’s shoulder.

“Come, Y/N. I’ll show you your room.” Vesemir adds. Y/N hesitates for a moment, but decides to join him in peace and quiet. They leave the room without another word, leaving Lambert behind. Y/N notices just now that she was tightly griping the letters in her hand.

They walk for a while down the dark corridor, Y/N’s realizing her heart was still beating quickly from the rage she felt back there.

When they finally reached the guest room, exhaustion and weariness suddenly overcome her. It seemed like her conversation with Jaskier from this morning was weeks ago.

“I’m sorry for what Lambert said back there. We are all quite tense since we received those letters.” Vesemir says, discomfort written all over his face.

“No offense, Vesemir, but I really don’t want to talk about him right now. I really need some rest.” Y/N says honestly. Vesemir nods.

“Of course. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

Find me.

*****

Y/N sits up in her bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. For a few seconds, she’s not sure where she is. At first, she thought it was the castle from her dreams.

Y/N wipes away the sweat from her forehead and takes a long breath to steady herself.

That dream kept repeating itself all over again for a while now but this time it felt more tense, like she was running out of time. But why?

As soon as she looked around the dark cold room, she realized this is still Kaer Morhen.

Y/N takes another glance around the room and then slowly gets up to dress herself. It was barely morning – the sun was shyly peaking behind the snowy mountains. She wraps her winter cloak around her tired body – is seemed that this castle was cold no matter the season.

Suddenly she hears a light knock on the doors.

Her dream is going to have to wait again.

Y/N opens the door. It was Jaskier.

“You’re awake, good. If you’re already packed, we can go right away. Vesemir and the others are almost ready to go.” he says, entering the room and walking around. Y/N raises eyebrows.

“Go where?”

“To Kaer Seren, of course!” he says tensely rubbing palms together. “To find Geralt.”

“Jaskier.” Y/N starts, but stops because she wasn’t sure what to say to her friend. He raises eyebrows waiting for her response.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” she says, remembering her fight with Lambert from the last night.

“What? To save him?” Jaskier asks, crossing arms on his chests.

“I’m not saying that!” Y/N answers immediately. “But it might be better if they all go without me.” she speaks softly, feeling the anxiety in her voice. Her friend frowns but doesn’t say anything right away.

“They? You know I’m going as well, right? I know he isn’t your friend. Not even someone you know well. But I do. He’s one of my closest friends, Y/N. I can’t just sit here and wait for someone else to save him. I just can’t. So please” he approaches her slowly. “Do this for me. I’ll own you. I’ll even pay you.” he adds.

Y/N shakes her head. She felt horrible now.

“Jaskier, this has nothing to do you with the money. Or favours.”

“Then what else do you want me to offer you?” Jaskier asks, his voice almost cracking from his pleads.

Y/N takes a long breath and looks away.

“What did Vesemir tell you exactly?” she asks after a few seconds.

“That Geralt is held at Kaer Seren and that we need to go.” Jaskier answers, slowly losing his patience with Y/N.

“Jaskier. His captors might be someone who relies on Chaos.” she finally says.” Someone just like me.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Y/N could almost see his thought process all over his face.

“Y/N, Vesemir wouldn’t-”

“But Lambert would.”

“You’re helping us. You’re on our side!” Jaskier exclaims.

Suddenly, the door of her room opens fully and they both turn around. Redheaded witcher crosses his arms and leans shoulder against the doorframe.

“But when the time comes, would you kill your own brothers and sisters for one pitiful witcher?”

Neither Jaskier nor Y/N say anything.

“That’s what I thought. And that’s why she’s not coming with us.” Lambert says, his eyes pierced on Y/N. She stares back, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Eavesdropper. And in matter of fact, I am.” she responds. Jaskier looks at her, not trying to hide his surprise.

“You are?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, I am.” she says, still looking at Lambert. He scowls, slightly shaking his head. Y/N doesn’t say anything. She didn’t know why she agreed to this.

She was aware this was dangerous for her. Lambert was right. Would she be able to kill a sorceress or a mage that was standing on their way?

But now it was too late. She agreed to come. She let him provoke her again. And this time, it was more serious.

“Alright. But let’s clear up some things, witch.” Lambert slowly walks towards her, until he’s just a couple of centimetres away from her face.

“If I, just a for second, doubt your intentions” he glances over her entire face. Y/N doesn’t move.

He’s standing too close.

“You’re done.” he says quietly. Y/N clenches her jaw but doesn’t lower her eyes.

“Get out of my sight, witcher.” she barely uttered the words. She wasn’t even sure if she spoke them louder than a whisper.

“Gladly.” he instantly responds and pulls back, leaving the room without another glance at her. And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N finally takes a breath. She wasn’t even aware she was holding it in until he was gone.

“Woah.” Jaskier says quietly, glancing towards the door as if he was expecting Lambert to come back.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“He really-”

“Hates me for no reason?” Y/N interrupts him. Jaskier slightly tilts his head, still looking towards the door as if he’s waiting for Lambert to come back.

“No, I don’t think that’s hate.”

Y/N raises eyebrows at her friend. “Is this witcher’s way of showing fondness? If so, I’m not so sure I want to save your friend anymore.” Y/N says.

Jaskier grins. “Geralt is not that bad.” he says but his grin slowly fades away.

“Y/N, are you really going to help us find him?”

Y/N slowly nods. “I will.”

“What changed your mind?” he asks cautiously. Y/N shrugs her shoulder.

“I…I’m not really sure. But I’ll do my best to help you and your friend.” she admits. Jaskier looks at her for couple of seconds and then cleans his throat.

“Alright then, that’s good enough for me. We should be on our way then!” he says, sounding more enthusiastically this time. Y/N agrees, and turns around to look for her bag. There was no reason to wait, they should be on their way as soon as possible.

“Vesemir and the others are already in the main hall. We should join them.” Jaskier says, heading towards the doors.

Y/N grabs the bag from the wooden chair and heads towards her friend. Just as she was about leave the room, she notices those letters that Vesemir gave her sitting on table next to the door.

Y/N grabs them, not really sure why would she need them.

When they finally joined Vesemir and the other witchers in the main hall, the sun had just fully risen and the day was about to begin.

“Y/N we need your assistance again.” Vesemir says after they all formed a circle in the middle of hall. Y/N counted – there was 6 of them. Vesemir, Lambert and Coen were standing with bags over their shoulders while Ciri, the only female witcher Y/N ever met, was holding only her silver sword, nervously switching weight from one leg to another. Jaskier gave Ciri a warm, comforting look but the girl looked at Y/N. Y/N tried to smile but it felt forced. There was nothing comforting or cheerful in conversation they were about to have.

“How can I help?” Y/N asks, turning to Vesemir.

“We need a portal. To Kaer Seren.”

Lambert and Coen groaned. Ciri gave them a warning look.

“Babies.” she mutters, crossing her arms.

Y/N nervously swallows. She wasn’t particularly good at making portals. Being oneiromancer didn’t require creating them anyway. Especially not so far away from her current position.

Or for so many people at once.

“I’m…I’m not sure if that’s good idea.” she honestly tells Vesemir.

“Why not?” Jaskier asks.

“Firstly, I’m oneiromancer – we don’t use portals as our primary form of transportation. Secondly, traveling that far with so much people cannot be done without huge risk.”

“What are the risks?” Jaskier asks carefully.

“Are you joking, bard?” Lambert interjected. “I’m not risking shit.”

“Cowards!” Ciri is slowly losing her patience. She turns to Vesemir. “Let me do it, please!”

“Child, we talked about this.” he speaks softly with the girl, disregarding her infuriation. “We need intractable portals. Yours could be traced from other side of Continent.”

“I don’t think that’s possible for anyone else either. Portals of those proportions are just too noticeable.” Y/N answers.

“I say we ride. That’s the safest option.” Lambert suggests.

“Ride to Kaer Seren is almost week long! They will kill him before we even pass Caingorn!” Ciri groans.

“They won’t kill him.” Vesemir says calmly. Ciri tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“How can you be so sure about that?”

Everyone is looking at Vesemir now.

“Because he’s being held as a warning. Those letters…they wouldn’t send it unless they want something from us. Something in exchange for Geralt.”

“Or someone.” Y/N adds. Lambert looks at her.

“What do you mean?” Vesemir asks before Lambert had a chance to speak.

Y/N takes a long breath, stopping herself before saying something that could trigger a new argument.

She carefully formed her next words looking at Ciri.

“If they want someone - “

“She thinks we are holding someone in our cells that they might want back.” Lambert says, crossing arms on his chests. He didn’t sound intimidating this time.

This time, he sounded like he was…mocking her. Y/N’s lips parted but she didn’t know what to say.

Ciri and Coen raise eyebrows at Y/N.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N says, realizing how terrible that sounded.

“No? Enlighten us then.” he shrugs. Everyone is looking at her. Even Jaskier, who has never been this quiet since Y/N met him.

“I was thinking… they might want someone else, but couldn’t get to them. Someone like Ciri.” Y/N tells him, but looks over to Ciri. Whitehaired woman looked enraged.

“I don’t care! Just because you think they might want me, won’t stop me from saving Geralt. End of discussion.”

“Cirilla.” Vesemir warns her and the girl’s expression soften a bit. “Y/N might be right.”

“Are you seriously agreeing with her!?” Ciri exclaims, stepping forward.

“I do.” Vesemir responds calmly, but lifts his palm when Ciri was about to protest again. “But I still think you should come with us.” he adds. Ciri stays quiet for a second and then nods. She glances at Y/N with some sharpness in her expression but doesn’t say anything.

“So here is what I suggest we do.” Vesemir says when he realizes Ciri calmed down. “Y/N. You’re going to make a portal. But here’s the catch – you’re not taking us to Kaer Seren.” he adds.

“No?” Y/N asks, slightly nervous when portals are brought up again. One look at Lambert and Coen and Y/N figures they might be as well.

The knock sounded again; it almost sounded as though your door would give way beneath the force of it. With shaking hands, you tied your shawl to cover the bodice of your nightgown before lifting the candle and going to open the door.

As soon as you had lifted the latch, the door swung in towards you with the force of the wind. For a moment, you were blinded by the icy gust and the rain it carried, your candle having been extinguished in an instant, then your eyes adjusted to see two large figures shrouded in darkness in the doorway, one of them leaning heavily on the other. 

“He’s hurt,” a deep male voice said from beneath the hood of the upright figure, almost shouting to be heard over the roar of the storm, “Can you help?”

You were nodding before he had finished speaking, stepping back and holding the door open to let them in. You pointed to the kitchen before throwing your weight against the door to shut it against the wind, then followed the trail of puddles that the newcomers had left in their wake on the way to the kitchen.

As you hurried to light the candles scattered around the room to give yourself the visibility you needed, the man who had spoken hoisted his companion onto your table. Turning to face them, you blinked in surprise; the injured man was well over six feet tall and barely conscious, and yet the other man had lifted him onto the table as though he weighed no more than a rag doll. The other man was a large man too, but you had only ever seen that kind of strength from one other man...and he was no ordinary man.

Shaking off your surprise, you turned your attention to the injured man. He was pale- a redhead- but you suspected his pallor was worsened by blood loss; darkened by the rain as his clothes were, you spotted blood soaking through his tunic over his lower abdomen. 

“What happened to him?” you asked, your voice calm and steady even as you moved swiftly around your kitchen, gathering supplies: a large pair of scissors to cut his shirt off, tinkling jars of herbs that would fight the bleeding and infection, a roll of clean bandages, and your suturing kit in case you should need it. 

“Turned his back on a kikimora, stupid bastard.”

There was an irritated fondness in the man’s tone as you picked up the scissors and began to cut away the remaining tatters of the injured man’s shirt.

“How did you come across a kiki-”

You stopped abruptly, your lower jaw dangling open in shock as the ruined shirt fell to the floor with a squelch. The white flesh of the man’s lower abdomen was marred by two long gashes from which blood was oozing; further up, over his heart, a familiar silver medallion hung on a fine chain. For the first time since their sudden arrival, you lifted your head to properly look at the other man.

His hood having been lowered, you saw that he was bald, his skin darker than his companion’s and the left side of his face marred by an old scar- a burn, if you had to guess. Around his neck was a medallion, identical to the one that the injured man was wearing.

And the one that Geralt always wore.

“You’re Witchers,” you blurted out in sudden understanding.

That was why they'd had a run in with a kikimora on a dark and stormy night. It hadn't been hunting them; they'd been hunting it.

“Geralt said you could be trusted,” the scarred man said in response, and your eyes widened as the name spurred you into action.

“He left some of his elixirs here last time,” you recalled, hurrying to open one of your cabinets and rummaging for the vials of black liquid that Geralt had trusted you to look after, “I’m sure he wouldn't mind me using one for your friend.”

Finding the right vial, you hastily unscrewed the lid.

“Hold his head please,” you requested, and the scarred man quickly opened his friend's mouth so that you could pour the contents of the vial down his throat. Almost immediately, the bleeding from his wound slowed; Witchers and their magic never ceased to amaze you. “I’ll bandage his wound whilst he's unconscious. If he's anything like Geralt, he’ll resent being fussed over once he's awake.”

The scarred man snorted at that as you unwound the roll of bandages and began to wrap them expertly around your patient’s abdomen. Without you having to ask, he helped you lift the man enough to be able to slip the bandages beneath his back and back to his front.

“Thank you...” you trailed off, “I don't know your name, but I get the impression you knew mine already.”

“I’m Coën,” he told you with a smile that softened his whole face, “And that ginger idiot whose arse you just saved is Lambert.”

You smiled as you carefully tied off the bandages around Lambert’s torso. 

“It’s nice to meet you both, even if it is unexpected. You...you said Geralt told you about me?” you asked curiously. 

Coën’s face lit up in a knowing grin. 

“You’re all he talks about, the last two winters I've seen him,” he told you, leaning back against the wall, “You’re the best healer in the Continent, if he's to be believed. Prettiest too, if you were to ask him.”

You looked away bashfully. “I’d better not ask him then. I don't want to end up with an ego.”

He laughed. “You're funny too. He forgot to mention that.”

Not used to the compliments, especially since they had apparently come from Geralt first, you turned away to wash the blood from your hands and racked your brain for a way to change the subject. 

“I’m surprised you managed to find me in the storm,” you called over your shoulder. 

“It wasn't hard,” Coën told you, “I saw the charms from the road.”

You dropped the towel you'd been drying your hands on as you turned to face him, confusion etched all over your face. 

“Did you say charms?” you asked incredulously, “There are no charms here.”

He looked just as confused as you felt.

“Yes, there are,” he said slowly, as though you were a confused child, “The boundaries of your land are surrounded by them, protective ones. Anyone who means you harm wouldn't be able to see this cottage because of them. I assumed Geralt...?”

When you didn't look any less baffled in response to his explanation, understanding dawned on his face, then utter mirth as he let out a bark of a laugh.

“Oh, that white-haired coward!” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. Sensing that you still weren't following his thought process, he took a breath to get his amusement under control. “Geralt’s placed charms over your home to keep you safe...except he's too scared to tell you he cares enough to have done it in the first place. Oh, I'm never going to let him forget this.”

“Please don't tease him for it,” you begged quickly. Your head was reeling with all the new information that you had gained in the last few minutes; that Geralt boasted about you to other Witchers, called you pretty and capable and who knew what else, and that he cared enough to make sure you were safe even when he wasn't there to protect you in person. It was difficult not to let your heart run away with its own ideas of what that could all have meant, and you didn't want Geralt to be put off by his friends laughing at him for it. “It’s...it’s sweet of him. I don't want him to be embarrassed.”

Coën eyed you knowingly for a moment, and you got the impression that he had just worked out a great deal more about your feelings than you would have liked. Still, he nodded and placed his hand over his heart.

“I won't say a word. In fact, he’ll never know we were here at all.”

You nodded gratefully, then frowned as you noticed another thing about his appearance.

“You must be freezing in those wet clothes,” you said, concerned, “There are some old clothes of Geralt’s in the parlour. Get changed and I’ll warm some of the soup I made earlier for you.”

Any hint of teasing was gone from the Witcher’s voice as he smiled at you.

“Geralt was right. You really are kindness breathing,” he told you, before heading off in search of dry clothes.

You busied yourself with covering Lambert with a blanket, slipping a cushion under his head, then lighting the fire beneath the pot of soup so that you wouldn't dwell on what Geralt had been saying about you. If you thought for too long about any of it, you worried that you would squeal like a teenage girl whose crush had glanced twice at her in the marketplace. 

As the rich smell of the soup began to fill the kitchen, Lambert stirred where he lay on the table. You went to his side and rested a gentle hand on his shoulder to keep him calm as he woke up with a start, his eyes darting around the kitchen to try and get his bearings.

“You're safe, Lambert,” you told him quietly, “I’m a friend of Geralt’s.”

The red-haired Witcher stared at you in confusion for a moment before his eyes widened in understanding.

“You’re his healer.”

You fought the urge to comment on being called Geralt’s anything, and instead nodded.

“That’s right. You were injured fighting a kikimora, and Coën brought you to me. He’s in the next room, getting changed.” You saw his eyes drifting to the pot over the fire and bit back a knowing smile. “Are you hungry?”

“I could eat a fuckin’ horse,” he said, before wincing and looking up at you, “Sorry.”

You frowned. “What for?”

He cleared his throat. “Geralt’s always saying how gentle you are. He’d kick my arse if he heard me cursing in front of you.”

You had to chuckle at that. “I’ll have to have a word with Geralt if he's telling folks I’m too delicate to hear a man swearing. I might have to do some arse-kicking of my own.”

As Lambert chuckled at your comment, Coën returned to the room and grinned at the sight of his friend awake.

“You've met our host then, you ginger moron?” he teased, “I hope you're not laughing at Geralt. She doesn't like us doing that.”

You rolled your eyes. “I never said that. In fact, you’re only getting food if you promise to tell me some embarrassing stories about him. I’m sure you have plenty.”

The two Witchers grinned at each other before turning their heads to look at you.

“What do you want to know?”

Holding her arm, Y/n looked up at Lambert. A snarl stretched on her face as he held his blade on her throat.

“Lambert! That’s enough!” Vesimir called from the sideline, as he was watching the whole thing happen.

Letting out a scoff, he turned to walk away from her. Ciri passed by him on her way to help Y/n up. Rolling his eyes he went inside, taking his place besides his brothers.

-

As the evening passed, more alcohol was passed around among the Witchers and company at the tables.

“He just smacked her down! Just like that!” Coen boasted Lambert’s events of the day to the girls at the table.

The girls giggled and one even leaned into Lambert’s side. Lambert however wasn’t even paying attention. He hadn’t seen Y/n all evening after he went inside, not even for dinner.

He smiled awkwardly to the girl that clung on his shoulder, “Yeah, mate I’ll be right back. Excuse me ladies.”

As Lambert walked around searching for Y/n he spotted Ciri. With a jog he made his way over to her spot at the table with Jaskier and Geralt.

“Wow Lambert! You made quite the show today!” Jaskier yelled at him.

Ignoring him he brought his attention to Ciri as he kneeled before her, “Where is Y/n, have you seen her?”

It seemed like Ciri wasn’t as big a fan of his actions of her friend as her eyes went cold, “Why? So you can hurt her more?”

“I just want to apologize Ciri, that’s all.” He informed her.

Ciri just studied his features, “She went to her room a while ago after I stitched her up.”

Lambert’s face fell at her words. He didn’t mean to seriously injure her; she was just so insufferable sometimes. That fight brought out the worst of him and he needed to apologize to her.

Standing up he ignored the calls of his friends, making his way to the room of a certain female Witcher.

-

Standing before her door, he thought about what to say. He would keep it short, just apologizing for his roughness and that would be it.

Sucking in a breath, he knocked on her door.

“Who is it?” Her soft voice rang through the door.

He sighed, “It’s Lambert, can I please come in?”

“Go away Lambert, for fuck’s sake!”

Letting out an annoyed puff, he put his hand on the door, “Y/n, I just want to apologize. That’s all.”

Suddenly the door swung open. Revealing an angry looking Y/n. She was dressed in a big shirt, barely covering her ass. Looking at her flustered form, she had been drinking too. Her hair looked wild, and her cheeks were flushed.

Lambert just stared at her, the alcohol doing its work as he took in her form. She was definitely hot, her body trained from the years of fighting it had done. A bandage peaking from under her sleeve, covering the cut he made earlier that day.

“Just apologize, huh? That is all?  You disgust me!” She screamed in his face.

It didn’t take long for him to process what was happening. In a second, he wrapped his hand around her throat and pushed her backwards, slamming the door behind him as he pinned her to the wall of her small bedroom.

Studying her face, he stroked his thumb over the side of her neck “I disgust you, yeah? I could hear your heartbeat speed up when you saw me, so don’t lie.” He murmured in her ear, his heavy accent peeking through.

Y/n looked at him with a straight face, “You. Disgust. Me.”

With each word his grip on her neck tightened, making her squirm. “Don’t. Lie.” He mimicked her. Resting his cheek still against hers, taking in her smell, it drove him crazy.

Whatever he was doing, it worked. Her stomach fluttered as he brought his hand to her side, the other one still gripping onto her.

“Say you want this, that you feel this too. Cause fuck Y/n! I need to leave right now if you don’t want this” he spoke, asking her for the consent he needed to continue.

She nodded her head, making him loosen his grip on her.

He smirked, “I need you to say it for me Y/n, tell me what you want”

“God, Lambert yes I want this.  I need you to take me.” She sighed in his ears.

Bringing his hand from her neck to her cheek, he positioned her in the right way by pulling her hair. His eyes fell to her lips, they looked so soft. Within a second his lips crashed on hers, taking her into a passionate kiss.

Feeling his tongue press against her lips, she opened her mouth slightly, granting him access. Their tongues mingling together in a heavy dance, fighting for dominance.

Lambert still had her pinned to the wall, his taller body almost engulfing hers. When his hand found her breast with a squeeze, she let out a low moan. Right there and then Lambert decided it was the most amazing sound he’s ever heard. His cock already growing harder from the noises she let out.

Breaking their kiss, lambert caught his breath, “Damn sweetheart, keep making those sounds and my dick will just pop on itself.”

Y/n let out a whimper in unexpected pleasure, the wetness between her folds increasing

Lambert just sneered as he looked down on her. Picking her up, he took two big steps and threw her on her bed, “God, you’re beautiful, but I will ruin that pretty little body of yours.”

Kicking his boots off, Lambert crawled on top of her. Ripping her shirt with his hands, he revealed a naked Y/n underneath. Placing a kiss on her lips, his hand finding her breast again. He broke away from the kiss to attack her neck and chest, leaving a wet trail of marks from her collarbone to her tit.

“Lambert, fuck. Hurry up a little!” Y/n gasped out, making Lambert look up from his occupation. Her nipple was in his mouth, and she felt him smirking against her

Releasing her breast from his mouth, he grabbed his shirt by the hems, puling it over his head, revealing a sculpted, muscular chest. “Patience darling, I haven’t even started.”

Grabbing him by his shoulder with one hand, Y/n flips him over. Sitting on his lap, having the perfect view on his gorgeous, bearded face. Her hands trailed down his chest, scratching his skin lightly with her nails. As she neared the buckle of his belt, she paused. Y/n smirked before quickly undoing the belt and opening the buttons of his pants.

Lamberts hands went from her breasts to her hands, “Oh, no.”

Pushing Y/n of his lap, he stood up, lowering his pants and undergarments. His cock springing free from the uncomfortable clothing it was in.

Her eyes widened slightly, gaping at the sight before her, “I don’t know if that will fit.”

Lambert smirked, “We will make it fit.” He winked.

As his naked form made his way onto the bed again, he caught her hand that tried to grip his dick. “Relax, love. Just lay down.”

Laying her down on her back gently he hovered over her. Putting his weight on one arm, his other hand found it’s way down to her cunt. Gliding one finger between her lips, feeling the wetness coaxing his finger. “God, you’re wet.” He grunted out.

Bringing his hand to his mouth, he put his finger to his mouth, licking the slickness of his finger. Before she could register what was happening his hand lowered again, pushing two fingers inside of her.

Y/n gasped out as she wiggled underneath him, making him look up. Repositioning himself, Lambert placed one arm over her hips, bringing his face closer to her pussy.

Without warning, he placed his mouth on her clit. Sucking on the bundle of nerves, while massaging her walls, she gasped out for air. He started eating her out with a passion she’d never witnessed before. When he looked up through his red curls, she came undone. With a final stroke of his fingers and a mischievous grin, he hit her spot that sent her over the edge.

“Oh fuck, Lambert!” Y/n screamed in pleasure, throwing her head back on the pillow.

When he came up, his beard glistered from the juices she had produced, but fuck he looked unbelievably hot.

Grabbing his cheeks, Y/n gave him a passionate kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.

With a small tug, Lamberts body fell on top of her. Lifting his upper body not to crush her, he broke the kiss to give her a showstopping smile. Y/n let out a sigh, letting her eyes wander down to see his cock ready for more, glistering with pre-cum.

Lambert saw her watching him, “I need you to tell me what you want, love.”

“I need you to fuck me into tomorrow” she grumbled, unable to let out anything else.

Lambert leaned down to kiss her deep, while prodding his tip on her entrance. In one swift move he thrusted himself in. it was unlike anything she ever felt, the feeling filling her up.

Melting against him, she gripped his shoulders for support. Lambert was merciless, slamming into her at a fast pace, that had her see stars. His lips finding her neck again, this time almost breaking the skin while sucking on it. His hands gripping her tightly, leaving hand formed marks.

The sensation was amazing, and with every stroke she got pushed further into the matrass. Each stroke, each snap of his hips, Lambert hit her G-spot, making her a moaning mess. The scene they created was downright dirty, only the sounds of slapping skin and occasional grunts and moans filling the room.

He was rough but soft, no one has ever treated her like this. Y/n knew she’d never be able to get enough after tonight, an insatiable feeling finding her. As Lambert made a shift with his hips, he hit her spot even deeper, making her cry out at the tension that build in her belly.

Frantically gripping his back, she moaned loudly, “yes, Lambert, please don’t stop!”

He let out a deep grunt in acknowledgement, pounding into her harder. All her senses got overwhelmed as she took in his scent, arching her back of the bed. Y/n moaned with every breath she took, pressure and heat building up inside of her until it finally broke. Tippling her over the edge, she gave broken cry while coming hard a second time.

Her whole body shook with her orgasm, making her squeeze Lambert’s cock that was still buried deep inside of her.

His hips slapped against hers, making his movements falter. With a sloppy thrust, he too came crashing down in a sensational orgasm. Spurting his seed into her hotness, he stayed on top of her for a moment.

With a sigh Lambert rolled down next to her on the small bed. Y/n’s hand still tangled in his hair, combing her fingers through his locks.

“You are not weak, and I don’t hate you.” He smiled at her.

She grinned back at him, “You don’t really disgust me.”

That was until you found your cottage burnt down when you returned from the market. Thankfully, your horse Star had been with you, so he was uninjured, but apart from that... everything was gone. Your potions, all your clothes, everything you had gotten from your mother. Clothes and potions could be replaced, but everything that held emotional value was forever lost. You don't know how long you stood there, looking at the charred remains of your home, your heart heavy. You took some time to look around, maybe even find something that was still intact, that you could take, use even, but you had no such luck. Defeated, eyes swollen from all the tears you'd been shedding, you returned to your horse. There was only one place you could go now. Yes, you knew people around here, but they were only nice to you, when they wanted, needed something. It wasn't like they were friends. But there was one person who actually wanted you around: Vesemir.

You don't know how long it took you to get there, in fact you didn't even care, because you were so exhausted, completely worn out from everything that had happened, but when you finally arrived, there was a smile on your lips. This place at least had a tiny feeling of home, though it wasn't your home. Vesemir made it feel like that though.

After taking care of Star, you went to open the big doors, which took more effort than you'd expected, but since your whole body was weary, and you hadn't eaten in... how long? You couldn't even remember, it was probably no surprise that even that task was difficult for you. Immediately a couple of people looked at you, but you could make out one voice right away.

“What the fuck is she doing here?” Lambert's voice rung out above all the others. He was also the only one to stay seated, while everyone else seemed to be concerned about you. Someone called for Vesemir, but you didn't know who it was. You were barely able to keep yourself on your feet, but in front of Lambert, you really didn't want to cave in. Still, when Vesemir was by your side, wrapped his arm around you to support you, you felt your legs give in. Exhaustion taking over, lips trembling, but you bit down on them to keep from crying.

“What happened, Y/N?” Vesemir asked, guiding you to one of the benches, and once you were seated, he took your hands in his to warm them a little. You could feel Lambert's eyes on you, but he stayed back.

“It's gone Vesemir,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper, and now you weren't able to keep the tears at bay anymore. “They burnt it all down. My cottage, everything inside... gone. I don't have a home anymore.” You didn't tell him about all your mother's belongings, because he already knew that.

“You have a home here,” Vesemir said without hesitation, giving you a warm, gentle smile. Lambert grunted something in the background that you couldn't quite make out, which was probably for the better. “Keep you mouth shut, Lambert.” Still a little more unintelligible gibberish, but in the end Lambert was quiet – and left the hall.

“Vesemir, I don't want to be a burden.” Eyes following Lambert, you felt like you really didn't belong here, but none of the other witchers reacted the same way. It wasn't like they had to be especially considerate of you, because you could deal with them, with the way they behaved, the way they talked, all the curse-words and whatnot. In fact, you had made them all gasp when you'd started swearing one time when you'd stubbed your tow really badly. Their faces had been priceless, but that has also eased the tension a little bit. In addition, you'd helped with their injuries whenever you'd spent time here. While your mother had still been alive, you'd ventured out here together, and all the Witchers had adored her – including Lambert. That was exactly why you were so confused as to why Lambert seemed to hate you that much. You'd never really done anything to him. At least not that you knew.

“You're not a burden. I can actually use your help, as I've told you. I invited you here, remember? And don't pay any attention to Lambert. He's always like this, and we can't get that behaviour out of him.” Vesemir tried to smile at you, and you knew that he was right. You'd seen him act differently around other people, but those were people he'd known most of his life. And then there was Ciri. You knew that he hadn't thought highly of her in the beginning, of the princess that had nothing to do here, but then... he'd grown fond of her and even helped her with her training. He was protective, and that was another thing that had torn at your heartstrings. Every fibre in your body told you that it was NOT a good idea to develop any kind of feelings for that red-haired idiot – except for resentment probably – but your heart seemed to have other plans. Maybe, it helped that he was such a big idiot and asshole around you, because that would shut your heart up. Right? Right.

For a couple of days you had been able to mainly stay away from Lambert. You'd only seen each other briefly, for example when you'd been in the library and he'd turned around straight away when he'd seen you. Again and again, you wondered what you'd done wrong, because you could at least tolerate each other, couldn't you? Maybe, you did have to take the next chance to talk to him, to find out what his fucking problem was so that you could work around it.

You'd spent your day sewing clothes for yourself, because Vesemir had had a lot of fabric lying around – in some aspects, he couldn't let go of stuff. To thank him and the other Witchers – yes including Lambert – you'd spent the day in the kitchen to bake some pies. Everyone had different favourite fillings, so you wanted to get them all right, show some consideration for them, because they let you live here and treated you with respect. Well, most of them, but right now, you were just thankful, that you could stay here at least until you'd figured out what you were going to do.

“Why is it, everywhere I go, I bump into you, woman?” You heard Lambert's voice even before you saw him, but you could feel his presence behind you.

“You think I'm trying to get in your way? Because I'm not. I'm trying to be of use here and not get in your way.” You turned around, only to look directly at his chest, because he was standing so close to you. Your eyes quickly darted up to look into his, your pulse quickening because of his proximity, his scent filling your nose, and the body heat practically radiating off him. You couldn't even back up, because the table was right behind you.

“You'd be better off somewhere else.” His voice was low, a rumble in his chest. If he really despised you that much, then why didn't he back up, leave you alone? But instead of doing so, he placed both of his hands left and right of you, practically trapping you between the table and his body.”

“If I had anywhere to go, I would, believe me. I'm not fond of being insulted every time you look at me.” You knew that your heart gave you away, but it could also be interpreted as fear. The only problem was, that there was no fear to be seen in your eyes. You'd never been afraid of any of the Witchers. Lambert only managed to aggravate you to no end, but you knew that he would never hurt you. You tried to shove at his chest, but he didn't budge, not at all. Your fingers curled into his leather jacket, and your eyes dropped to his lips, your heart really betraying you this time. It was the right thing to try and get away from him, to duck beneath him and get away, but you couldn't. Instead, you rose to the balls of your feet to press your lips to his. A soft, chaste kiss, that made you pull away again almost immediately, realizing what you had done. “I'm... sorry... I shouldn't have...” You said, stumbling over your words, especially because you expected Lambert to mock you for this, to say something to hurt your feelings or at least let you go. Instead, his arms still entrapped you.

“Woman, you're making me crazy,” he said through gritted teeth, before you felt his hands on your hips, hoisting you up to place you on top of the table. His lips were on yours again, hungry, greedy, wanting more, and it was everything you'd been wanting all this time as well, but you'd talked yourself out of it. This right here felt like a dream, were it not for the strong hands clamping down on your thighs. Your own hands pushed on the leather jacket, because it was in the way. With a thud it fell to the floor, giving you the possibility to run your hands over his arms, feels his muscles move beneath your touch, till you reached his shoulder, and then tangled your fingers in his hair.

His lips left yours only to start kissing the side of your neck, dropping further down to press open-mouthed kisses against your skin, sucking on it, marking you. You could feel his arousal trough his pants, his bulge pressing against you, making you aware of what you were doing to him.

“Ever since you stepped in here the first time,” Lambert mumbled against your skin between kisses, “You've been driving me crazy... Your scent hanging everywhere in the air, making me lose it completely.”

“That's why you were so mean to me?” Your voice was hoarse, and when he pushed his hands beneath your skirt, up your legs, you sucked in a breath. You knew that this wasn't the best place to be doing this, since the others could walk in here any minute, but you weren't really able to think clearly and remember that.

“Ah come on, I wasn't mean,” he chuckled against your skin, trailing kisses down to your chest, pushing the fabric aside so that he could reach your nipple, pull it into his mouth, teasing a moan from your lips. It had been so long since you had been with a man, and Lambert definitely knew what he was doing. And he showed you that even more when his hands had reached the top of your thighs, spreading them a little wider apart to make room for himself. His fingertips brushed your heat only very lightly, but that touch already made you whimper, longing for more. His fingers teased you, stroking you where you needed it most, before he pushed two fingers inside you. Another deep moan left your lips, nails digging into his shoulder, your other hand still tangled in his hair, because you couldn't seem to let go of it.

“You're being mean now.” Your words came ragged as you wriggled against his hand, because you wanted more, needed more. You needed him.

“Judging by how wet you are, I don't think I'm really that mean.” There was a chuckle that quickly died down, when your pressed cupped his dick trough the fabric covering it. But that seemed to be enough for him right now. He pulled his hand from between your legs only to open his own trousers and free himself from the confinements. Hoisting your skirt up, he stepped closer again, making you whimper as you felt the tip of his cock against your folds. “Tell me,” he demanded, locking eyes with you.

“I want you Lambert,” you said, pulling him down to kiss him, moaning right into that kiss as he pushed deep inside you. You needed a moment to adjust to him, to his size, and it left you breathless. But once he felt you relax, he started moving inside you, finding the perfect rhythm for the two of you. His hands held your hips in place, and you knew he'd leave bruises in the shape of his fingerprints on you, but you didn't care. It felt way too good, to be thinking about something like this, and to be fair, you didn't think of anything in that moment, simply enjoyed what you were having, the sheer pleasure of Lambert hitting all the right spots to almost make you scream in ecstasy. Almost, because you were still aware of where you were, so you pressed your head against his shoulder, muffled your own sounds of pleasure like this, gripping onto him.

“I'm... I'm so close,” you managed between ragged breaths. At that, he took one hand off your hip, pushed it between your intertwined bodies and touched your most sensible sport with his callused fingertips. The slightest touch send you over the edge, pulling Lambert right with you. Both clutching onto each other, riding this high together, until you were both drained. Lambert's head rested against your shoulder, your fingers lazily stroking up and down his back for a moment. You didn't feel like you were able to speak right now, still wondering what the hell had just happened. This was definitely not what you had expected.

Gently stroking through his hair you made Lambert look back up at you, but before one of you could say anything, you heard Vesemir call for you in the distance.

“Fuck,” Lambert mumbled, running a hand through his unruly hair, before he started to pull his pants up again. At least he made sure that you looked presentable again, that nothing was showing anymore. Your face was still flushed, and you wanted to say something to him, ask him what this meant, but then he was gone, walking right past Vesemir, who'd found you in the kitchen.

“Another argument?” Vesemir asked concerned, because with Lambert and you, he could never be sure. Whatever Lambert's problem was, he really had to work on that.

“Yeah,” you said, hiding your face from Vesemir, getting busy on the pastry again that you'd abandoned once Lambert had entered the room. “Don't worry though. I can handle it.” Oh yes, you'd handled that situation just perfectly, not sure what the hell that had been, but you weren't going to discuss it with Vesemir.

Later that day, you met Lambert in the entry hall, where he was sitting with Coen in silence. For a moment you pondered, but there were some things you should probably talk about, like what exactly had lead to what had happened between you. If that was just spur of the moment, if there was maybe something else... You just needed to know, to get some closure. Because you didn't want to return to Lambert insulting you whenever he got the chance. That was why you approached them.

Coen smiled up at you. “Thanks for the pie, Y/N, it was delicious.”

“You're very welcome Coen. I enjoyed making them for you, as a thank you for letting me live here.” At that, Lambert scoffed, gaining your attention. Was he really back to being an asshole? “Can we talk?”

“I don't think we have anything to talk about,” he retorted, stern expression on his face, when he looked at you for just a second. Then he turned back to Coen,

“Is that so?”

Even Coen could hear the pain in your voice, looking between you and Lambert, but there was nothing he could do or say right now, because he didn't know what the hell was going on.

“Yeah. Or do you want me to tell you again that you don't belong here?” Lambert's eyes remained firmly on the table, arms crossed.

“Fine then.” You fought back the tears, grabbed your coat and flung it over your shoulders. “I'll grant you your wish, you stubborn, childish asshole.” Without another word, you turned around and left through the doors, out into the cold. Honestly, you didn't know where you were going, but you didn't want to stay here either. You hadn't expected Lambert to confess his feelings to you or to even commit to anything with you, even it it would be just sex – which had been incredible – but you'd thought that you could at least treat each other with respect. You'd certainly been wrong about that.

“What's wrong with you?” Coen asked the moment the door had closed behind you.

“What do you mean? She is annoying and she doesn't belong here.”

“For fuck's sake, Lambert, I've seen the way you look at her, when you think noone's watching. And then you treat her like shit. I though Vesemir had raised you better.” Lambert rolled his eyes at his friend's words. “She helps around here, she tends to our wounds, she cooks, and she is nice to everyone, and she even tries with you. She doesn't deserve to be treated like this by you.” With a grunt, Lambert got up from the bench and glared at Coen. “What's so bad about liking her?”

“I don't want to hurt her!” There, he'd said it.

“You do realize that you hurt her with what you just said, though, right?” Confusion shone in Coen's eyes. It simply didn't make sense for Lambert to behave this way.

“I know. But that's still better than getting close to her and then having to leave her because I'm not coming back one day.” Lambert didn't have to say it out loud, they both knew what he meant. All of them could go out and not come back one day, but that didn't mean that they couldn't let people get close to them. Sure, they wanted to protect them, but still...

“How about you leave that choice up to her?”

“Have you seen Y/N?” Vesemir's voice boomed through the halls, making both Witchers turn to him.

“She left the keep,” Coen explained, sneaking a look at Lambert.

“And you didn't stop her?” Vesemir said, visibly angry. “There's a snowstorm coming swiftly, and she'd out there all alone.”

“Oh, for fuck's sake!” Lambert quickly got up and was out the door before anyone could stop him or say anything. He knew that this was his fault, so he had to find you, and he was pretty sure that he was the only one to be able to do this. Your scent was firmly lodged in his nose, and that had always been a way for him to find you around the building – or try to keep out of your way, whatever he preferred. He could make your scent out, really faint, but it was enough for him to follow you. Your footprints weren't visible anymore, covered by the steady snowfall that was increasing by the minute.

Lambert picked up his pace, following your scent until he finally found you. You were cowering beneath a tree, the snow already up to your knees, blood turning the snow beside you bright red.

“Y/N!” he exclaimed, hurrying to get to your side. There was a laceration on your left temple where you'd probably hit your head on the tree. Carefully, he helped you up, but you winced once you were standing on your feet again. “I'm so glad I found you.”

“This is all your fault!” you said, gritting your teeth against the pain. You'd hurt your ankle, taking a tumble down against the tree.

“I know and I'm sorry.” Carefully, he picked you up, one arm beneath your knees, the other behind your shoulders to hold you tight. His words were genuine, you could see it in his eyes, but there was still so much unspoken between the two of you.

“Let me down, I can walk back,” you protested more out of spite than anything else, because you knew that you shouldn't put that much weight on your ankle.

“Stop the bullshit okay? We need to get out of this weather, and this is the quickest way. And you're freezing, so shut up and let me take care of you.” This was a different side of Lambert, one you hadn't seen, and it made you smile, before you realized just how cold you were. Your arms wrapped around his neck, holding onto him, trying to reveal in the warmth his body spread to yours. That helped already a little bit, but your fingers, your feet, they were still freezing off.

Once back at the keep, Lambert didn't say much to the others, just that he was taking care of you – and he missed the smirk that appeared on Coens lips. They were just happy that you were okay. Instead of taking you to your own room, he took you to his, which didn't look at all like what you'd expected. You'd thought there would be things lying around, clothes strewn around everywhere, but it was neat and tidy, and rather cosy. He placed your shivering body on top of his mattress, covering you with the sheets. He only moved away to light the fire in the hearth signing igni, but then he was by your side again.

“It will be warm in a minute in here.” Lambert looked at you, at your pale lips, your shaking fingers, and he sighed. “I'm sorry that I acted that way, that I pushed you away.” Carefully, he brushed your hair from your face, lettings his fingers linger on your cold cheek for a moment. “I didn't want you to get hurt, if we got too close. I don't want you to suffer should I... not return home one day.”

“Oh Lambert...” Your voice was a mere whisper, but there was the hint of a smile on your lips, because he finally started to understand why he'd been behaving this way all the time. “Can you...” You hesitated for a moment, but then you plucked up your courage. “Can you hold me, please?” There it was, the smile that you'd seen so little off. The smile that you really loved to see, because it filled your heart with joy. He didn't hesitate and got under the covers with you, pulling you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you from behind. His fingers fanned over your stomach holding you in place. His nose brushed the back of your neck and he inhaled your familiar scent, that filled him with content.

“I'm really sorry about my behaviour. But I'm just glad that I got you back here, and I'm not planning on letting you go that quickly.” A gentle kiss to the side of your neck before he closed his eyes and simply help you in his arms, warming you more than the fire or the blankets did.

Whatever this was, wherever this would lead, you didn't know yet, but that was something that you didn't have to discuss right now. You'd rather enjoy his presence, his warmth and the touch of his hands on your body. Carefully, you turned around in his arms to look at him, your right hand reaching up to brush through his curls, then lingering on his cheek.

“How did you find me anyway?” you simply had to ask, because he couldn't have found you following your prints. They'd been gone pretty much the minute you'd left that spot.

“I followed your scent,” he said with a laugh, leaning his forehead against yours, brushing your nose with his.” It's intoxicating for me, and it's been driving me mad all this time, every time you were around... I always knew where you were, and that helped me find you.”

“So... it's a good thing? A good scent?”

The cottage you and Lambert shared was nothing to be impressed by.  It was small, creaky, leaky, and the wooden floors often came with a high risk of splinters.  On the days it rained, you spent most of your time finding spare buckets and other random containers to place underneath the spots in the roof that allowed rainfall to pass through freely.  

On the days it was sunny and breezy, you forgot everything that was really wrong with your home, enjoying the natural breeze squeezing through the cracks to cool off you and your three month old Irish wolfhound pup, who your beloved Lambert brought home after a particularly long hunt.  He claimed that the pup refused to leave his side after he found her owner dead, unlucky enough to have been killed by an Alghoul.  Even after he left the desecrated village, the small puppy continued to follow him.  Now, she was the innocent loving little creature who kept you company while Lambert was out on hunts.  She made you feel less alone and made it easier to cope with his absence.  

Today was a time where the thick droplets of rain were invading your home. Buckets you found inside of the horse barn behind your cottage littered the floors throughout the living room and kitchen.  Your puppy, Blair, investigated each and every bucket with her nose, nudging each one as she sniffed them. Her ears perked up from the sounds of the water splashing up from the filled pool of water and hitting the sides of the metallic containers.  You were worried about water damage and if your struggling home would hold up, and Blair was having the time of her life.  What a playful pup she was.

“Maybe when Lambchop returns home, he’ll see if he can fix some of these holes in the roof….whaddya think, girl?”  You spoke to Blair, bending over to lightly scratch the top of her head, smiling as she squeaked in delight.  Your hand proved to be more interesting than the bucket now.

As soon as you moved your hand away from petting her, she returned to sniffing the buckets, her curiosity once again taking over.  You stood up with a huff, looking around your home, truly taking in how subpar the interior was at the moment.  You swore if you took a wrong step, your foot would go straight through the beaten down and rotted floorboards.  With this somewhat heavy rain, you weren’t sure how much longer the roof was going to hold.  All you could do was think about how badly you wished for Lambert to come back soon.  The lack of his presence made you feel uneasy.

The rainy day came and went, the next few turning out to be just the same.  A seemingly never ending rain was now beginning to swiftly flood the path leading up to your shared cottage.  If the water rose any higher over the next couple of days, you and your helpless pup were going to be trapped.  

Lambert’s hunting expeditions were extremely unpredictable, so you were never quite sure when he would return home….or if he would return.  Still, you found yourself peeking out the half unhinged front door to the cottage twice every hour, hoping to see his chestnut colored horse, Seraphina, who he affectionately named due to her fiery personality.  To your dismay, each peek came with nothing but disappointment.  Only rising rain waters and strong gusts of wind threatened you from the unforgiving outdoors.  

The following night, you decided you were going to give your most desperate attempt at bringing Lambert home sooner.  You brought Blair into your bedroom and closed the door behind you, trying to keep her away from the flood waters that had inched their way inside of the cottage and leaked halfway out into your living room.  She whined in protest when you picked her up originally but quickly found comfort and peace curled up at the end of your bed.  Seeing this made you wish you could find the same amount of bliss without Lambert filling one side of the bed.  You didn’t know what else to do.  Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes as you knelt down onto the rough floor, leaning your elbows on the edge of the mattress.  You began to pray to the gods.  You prayed for his faster return, his safe return, and you prayed that the gods would listen in the first place.  When you were done, you still felt an uncomfortable emptiness.  He still was not home and rainwater still threatened the already questionable stability of your home.  How were you going to get yourself through this?

Morning came as slowly as it ever had, you spending most of the night lying awake and waiting for the water to inevitably reach your bedroom.  This time, however, as dawn appeared, rays of sunshine appeared with it.  The warmth of the light felt almost unfamiliar after days of cold and wet fear.  Using the light to your advantage, you glanced down to check the state of your bedroom floor. Sure enough, to your horror, the water beneath you was slowly lapping at the edge of your bed.  You awoke Blair from her unaware slumber, clutching her close to you.  Rather than the rain and flooding soaking her fur, your tears were doing the job just as well.  

You were out of hope.  Your will was slowly and painfully being drowned under the relentless and unforgiving waters.  The front of your cottage was surely lost, furniture and food with it.  There were no other horses residing in the barn, as you weren’t typically one for adventure and travel, contrasting the man you had fallen in love with.  Clothes that usually had their place in the homemade trunk in the corner of your bedroom were now floating on the surface of the murky cold waters mixing with the mud and grit on the ground.  You had nothing but Blair, and nowhere to go.  Nowhere to escape.

“Dove?!?”

You lifted your sunken head and wiped some of the tears staining your face. Were you hearing things?  Was that a voice, or the gods taunting you?

“Dove?!?  You in here?  Son of a bitch, you better be alive in here, woman!”  

No.  You knew that voice.  That voice was warmth.

“Lambert??”  You called out, your voice hoarse and trembling.  “Lambert, is that you?!?”

“Yes, it’s me!  What in the ever living fuck are you still doing here?”  Lambert’s voice was getting closer, the sounds of heavy sloshing water accompanying it.

“Where was I gonna go, Lamb, you’ve got Seraphina with you!  I can’t exactly ride Blair out into the woods!”  Blair started to lick your face as you spoke.

“Shit, shit, for FUCK’S SAKE!  I’m coming!”

You let out a sigh of relief.  Your rugged off roading husband was on his way to you and your sweet pup.

“Wait, are you trudging through the water and mud?”  

“Ah, not exactly, dove.  Think my trousers would be torn to shreds in this thick shit.”  Lambert answered, his voice sounding like he was merely inches away from the bedroom door.

Then you heard it.  A loud but quick neighing came from outside the door.  The gods certainly couldn’t be playing a joke on you now.

“Lamb….my love….did you bring your horse into the house?”

“Well, how else was I gonna carry you out of here?  I’m just thinkin’ smart!  Seraphina’s a lot taller than I am, Dove.”

You rolled your eyes at your self proclaimed genius of a husband, although still more than thankful that he was there to rescue you.  Just a moment later, your bedroom door slowly creaked open, resisting against the rising water.  

“Holy shit.”  Lambert cussed.

He eyed the water that was starting to rise above the edge of the mattress you were huddled on, thinly coating the bottom of Blair’s paws.  The hem of the silken nightgown on your figure was beginning to flow with the water.

“Alright, let’s go before you turn into a Drowner.  I’m not into that.”

“Lambert, you find humor in the weirdest things, you know.”

Lambert shrugged his shoulders and reached down to grab Blair as you held her up in the air, wanting to keep her safe before yourself.  After the pup was seated on his lap, he reached into a pouch on the side of Seraphina’s saddle and pulled out a leather strap with a buckle on it.  

“Hold still, ya little shit.”  Lambert scolded as he tried to prop up Blair against his chest.  As soon as she calmed down more and lessened her wiggling, he gently wrapped the strap around himself and the confused puppy, locking the buckle in place to create a secure holder for her.  “Arms up, Dove.”

You stood and balanced yourself using the posts to the headboard on the now soaked bed, reaching your arms out to meet Lambert’s.

“Jump!”  Lambert ordered.

You did as he said without question and jumped up, your landing being supported by his weight.  You didn’t quite make it to the top of Seraphina’s saddle, your feet submerging and dragging through the opaque water. 

“Son of a bitch!”  Lambert grunted as he caught your body, using his upper strength to lift you up the rest of the way.

 After you shifted yourself to properly sit on the horse, he directed her out of the bedroom, into the living room, and out of the cottage.  The water was so deep and caked in layers of mud that the sound of Seraphina’s hooves were seemingly mute. 

“Lamb….where are we gonna go?”

A heavy silence filled the air.

“The flood just took our home….we have nothing.”  You continued, your voice cracking.

“Not to be a sappy shit but, Dove, you’re my home.  Wherever we go, I’ll be home as long as I’ve got ya’.”

You leaned forward to rest your cheek on your husband’s back.  Just moments ago, you were fearing for your life and wondering if your grave was going to be the dark and cold depths of the floods, afraid that your precious pup was going to share the same fate.  Now, you were atop your love’s prized horse off to find another home, snuggled into his back, with Blair strapped in safely against his front like she were a human child.  You knew he loved that pup, and there was nothing he could say now to convince you otherwise.

Lambert stumbled into Kaer Morhen, wiping tiredly at his brow as he searched the room, half expecting you to tumble him to the ground in worry for his new injuries, much surprised to find the room completely vacant of your presence. He threw his weapons to the ground, ignoring the grunt of disapproval that Geralt gave him before stalking down to his bedroom, hoping to find you there instead.

You knew, of course, that he’d do exactly that, just as you knew he’s refuse you the opportunity to take care of him upon his return. Lambert, like most of the other witchers, was a stubborn mule at times, allowing his pride to deny him your soft affection but you were just as, if not more, stubborn. You’d drawn up a warm bath, filling the water with scents and potions you got from Triss, all of which would aid him in recovering from the hunt he’d gotten back from.

Your clothes scattered the bedroom floor, bubbles created by the potions littering the water and hiding your body from view as you heard your witcher’s determined steps easing at the slightly ajar door. Red curls peaked through the gap first before his curious eyes met yours, lips almost instantly tilting into an amused smirk when he saw how you were waiting for him.

“Well,” he breathed as he leaned against the doorframe, shamelessly trying to take in every bit of the lovely view you’d created for him. “Had I known this was what I would find upon my return, I would have killed that last monster much faster,” he noted, point only being grounded as you giggled lightly, the water shifting around you as you sat up slightly, moving the bubbles to accommodate your new position without exposing too much of you skin.

“You are more than welcome to join me, love,” you mused as you reached for him, silently insisting that he come towards you, a demand he’d happily meet as he closed the door behind him.

“You think there is room enough for the pair of us?” he pushed as he kneeled at the side of the wooden tub, lips gentle as they kissed the inside of your wrist. You hoped your ruse would hold up, though the way concern dipped at your brow upon further inspection of his face, proved to threaten the entire construct of your plan.

“I am sure we would find a way to make room,” you suggested, releasing his hand to gently drag your thumb over his lips, fingers trailing through the features of his face before reaching the tangled curls behind his ear.

“And I am sure you would be far more convincing if your face had not given away your intentions from the moment I walked into the room,” he informed you and you lifted a brow at him. “I may be a fool for you, lass, but a fool for your ploy, that I am not.”

“I never thought you a fool, Lambert,” you pouted, caught red-handed as you looked down at the water. “I merely thought you easier persuaded with something to gain in the end.”

“And what would I be gaining from this little encounter?”

“Why being close to me, of course,” you gasped, and he laughed lightly at your reaction before standing up from your side. “You may fight it, dear witcher, but you know you enjoy me taking care of you, and why not allow me to do so while I rest in your arms within the constraints of the water.”

“A bargain that any man of sound mind would be ridiculed for refusing,” he teased, and you thought he would be leaving but instead found him taking off his shirt, throwing it across the room as he winked at your wondering gaze.

“You are staying” you breathed with a careful smile, happy that your plan worked and that you’d get a chance to make sure he’s not been hurt too badly on his escapades.

“You are a master of persuasion, lass,” he explained, hands on either side of you as he leaned over the tub to kiss you, lips moving ever so slowly as you welcomed him home. “Persuasion thrives off weakness,” he mumbled against your lips, making sure that your eyes met his as he smiled. “You know that mine is you and you alone.”

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