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Chapter Text

“Looks like the weather is finally clearing up enough for the Trail to open,” Eskel noted as he sat down to a measly meal of shriveled root vegetables and salted mountain goat. They were at the end of their winter stores but constant rainfall had prevented the Wolf Witchers of Kaer Mohren from leaving the keep until late into spring. The Killer was difficult in the best weather but while it was washed out with mudslides it was impossible to get through alive.

Lambert was chomping at the bit to get out. It wasn’t the pitiful food and cold draughty halls that were chasing him out, nor was it any sense of duty to rescue ungrateful peasants from the monsters coming out of hibernation, starving and ready for a feast. No, he had someone waiting for him and every winter he was miserable until he could return to his lover’s arms. 

Not that he would admit that to anyone but his lover. His Aiden. So far he’d never breathed a word about the Cat Witcher to the surviving members of his school, not even when he was blind drunk with no control over his mouth. Aiden had no place here, in these frigid stone walls inhabited by ghosts and broken men. Aiden was life, and sunshine and warmth. He was laughter and soft touches and warmth, nothing Lambert associated with Kaer Mohren. 

Lambert was planning how soon he could get down the path and to the Shaerrawedd ruins where he always met Aiden. His companion was probably worried by how late he would be. Lambert would worry too, until he could see his Cat alive and well again. 

Geralt, shifting and growl-humming in his seat, interrupted Lambert’s daydreams about his long awaited reunion. He knew the noise meant Geralt wanted to say something and was chewing on the words. 

“Next winter,” his idiot brother finally ground out, “wanna bring a guest.”

Lambert scoffed and rolled his eyes. Guests weren’t allowed in the keep. This was their supposed ‘safe haven’ or some bullshit and ever since the pogrom no outsider was allowed to grace these sacred halls. 

He was fully expecting Vesemir to repeat the same old lecture, but the old Wolf surprised him when he tilted his head and asked, “The bard we’ve heard so much about?” Geralt nodded. “Yes, if you trust him then he is welcome in this Keep.”

Lambert turned to gape at Vesemir. Hope rose in his chest. They only needed to vouch for someone and they could come? If he vouched for Aiden, could they spend their winters together? He pictured it, Aiden would love to run the walls, his laughter would echo down the valley. Aiden would curl up with him in front of roaring fires - both of them hated the cold - and they could drink his favourite mulled wine together. Aiden would look beautiful with snowflakes in his hair and lashes, rosy cheeks and warm breath swirling. He could bring Aiden home.

“I want to bring a guest too,” he blurted. 

All eyes in the room turned to him, but Lambert didn’t look away from Vesemir. The old fencing master frowned. “You want to bring someone? Who?”

“A friend. Someone I’ve travelled with for a few years.” That was all Geralt would admit the bard was to him after all, even though they all knew the two of them were fucking like rabbits all summer. Lambert didn’t need to admit he was in love or anything to his brothers. 

Vesemir’s frown deepened. “A few years?” he repeated, “Why haven’t we heard about them before? What kind of person have you been travelling with?”

Nothing for it, may as well answer two questions in one. “He’s a Cat Witcher.”

Lambert jumped as Vesemir’s hand slammed down on the table. “Absolutely not. Are you a fool? Cat Witchers are volatile and unscrupulous, if you have really been travelling with one you have even less sense than I thought.”

“What the fuck do you mean? I trust him with my life, that was enough for Geralt’s bard to get a pass, why the fuck not Aiden?”

“If you take issue with Geralt bringing a guest, just say so. You don’t need to pick the most offensive person to prove a point.”

“What - I’m not trying to prove a point. Geralt can bring a rabid bargast for all the fucks I give. All I want is to invite another Witcher.”

“You will bring a Cat Witcher to this keep over my dead body,” Vesemir barked. They were both standing now, hands on the table, snarling in each other’s faces. Geralt and Eskel were looking uncomfortable, caught in the argument. “You know what the Cats did at that tournament.”

“Not all Cats were involved in the tournament.”

“It doesn’t matter -”

“It does fucking matter,” Lambert snarled. “He didn’t kill any fucking Wolves and he isn’t going to start just because you let him into the Keep.”

“I will never let him into the Keep. I don’t care if you’re stupid enough to put your trust in one of those backstabbing traitors but if you don’t come to your senses you’ll regret it.”

“So that’s it then? I’m just too fucking stupid and you can’t trust my judgment, but darling Geralt fucking vouches for someone and we welcome him with open fucking arms.”

“Geralt is bringing a human that we’ve known about for years.”

Geralt gave a small “ah” of protest but Lambert plowed right through it. 

"Why is this even your decision? Why do you get any more say than the rest of us? Just because you're too stubborn to die means you can lord over us for the rest of our miserable lives?"

"Nobody wants a Cat here."

The silence hung in the air for a long moment. Lambert heard a lot of things in that silence. He heard Geralt and Eskel not correcting Vesemir. He heard Vesemir implying that he was a nobody, that what he wanted didn’t matter.

Lambert swept his arm across the table, pushing the plates and cups with the remains of their meal to the stone floor.

“I don’t even know why I fucking bother coming here when all you do is treat me like shit. I hate it here. This fucking hellhole where I was beaten bloody and fucking tortured while everyone I thought of as a friend died around me. And now I come back every year, for what? To work my ass off trying to keep this tomb from collapsing on my head and sleep in rotten fucking straw while rats knaw through my bloody boots? To listen to you talk down to me and berate me like I’m worthless? Fuck you. Fuck all of you.”

Lambert stormed out of the main hall and up the stairs to his room. He violently shoved his things in his pack. He’d been mostly ready to go for weeks now waiting for the path to dry, it was just a few loose items he used every day left. These past few days of good weather were probably enough. They would have to be, he was leaving tonight regardless.

He couldn’t stand it here anymore. It was one thing having to listen to Vesemir nitpick his every fault in training and chores. He was always irritable at the end of winter, snapping at the people all forced together because some kind of twisted fate meant they weren’t dead yet. He hated that he was never given a choice in any of this, but he was damn well choosing now. He was choosing Aiden.

Lambert snuck into the pantry to raid the last of the bread, the fuckheads staying behind could bake more. He left the Keep in the dark with barely any rations and no word of goodbye. Fuck them. 

He was shouldering open the door to the underground tunnel when Vesemir stepped into the courtyard, the orange glow of a torch spilling across the rough stone.

“You’re leaving now, like a thief in the night?”

“Why the fuck should I stay?”

“This is your home. We’re the only family you have.”

Vesemir could go stick his dick in a chort’s anus after what he said, he didn’t get to go around pretending they were family. Geralt and Eskel - his supposed brothers - hadn’t said a word in his defense either.

“And whose fucking fault is that?” The Witchers had taken him from his family. Admittedly, his father was an abusive drunk, but the trainers at the Wolf school hurt him worse than that old man ever had. “I’m going to choose my family and it isn’t you.”

“You’ll change your tune soon enough, it won’t be long before that Cat shows you his true colours and you’ll be begging to come back here.”

“I’ll come back here with Aiden or fucking not at all.” Lambert was enraged, but the reality of the situation was sinking in. It might be hard to remember now, after a miserable winter spent in too close quarters, but as much as he denied it, this was his home and he did care about the other Wolves. The rational part of his brain reminded him that every fall he was anxious to know that the three of them - yes including Vesemir, the git - hadn’t died on any hunts over the summer.

Before closing the door behind him he turned back. Vesemir was standing in a doorway opposite, torch in hand and frowning. “If you want me to come back - with Aiden - leave a note at the Fox and Fiddle, otherwise you won’t see me again.” Then he slammed the door behind him and set out through the dark tunnel out of Kaer Morhen.

Chapter Text

Eskel sighed as he eased into a chair at the Fox and Fiddle in Wolvenburg. This was the last inn in the last town before starting on the trail to Kaer Mohren. It was an unspoken tradition that the Wolf Witchers would stop here for the night before braving the treacherous track up the mountain. It helped that Tom the owner insisted that he owed his life to the Wolf school after a Witcher rescued him from a Leshen as a child. Tom made sure that all Witchers were comfortable and treated well by the other customers so this inn became a place of rest and safety. The Witchers rewarded him by spending plenty of money on drinks and provisions. 

Another advantage of visiting every year is that Tom knew them and was happy to inform the new arrivals about which Witchers had already passed through. It saved a few days of worry about who had made it safely home. Eskel was relieved to know that he was the last to arrive this year, after Vesemir, Geralt, and Lambert. Tom even gossiped with him about Geralt’s bard, who had indeed accompanied the White Wolf this year. Apparently the two hadn’t asked for a room with two beds, a fact that earned a mischievous eyebrow wiggle. 

Tom also noted that Lambert must have been in a hurry this year, since he had decided not to stay the night in town or stock up on provisions. “I hope he hasn’t found another innkeep to provide for him, after all this time.”

Eskel just smiled and shook his head. It was impossible to explain Lambert’s behaviour.  He was anxious to see his youngest brother again. He had left the Keep after a vicious argument, and Eskel wanted to make sure he was alright. Both Vesemir and Lambert reacted too strongly to the argument, but Eskel hoped they would be able to resolve things this year with more time and when tempers weren’t running so high. He wanted Lambert to be able to bring his friend with him, mostly just because he was surprised Lambert had found someone he actually wanted to spend time with. He was curious about what kind of person could put up with Lambert long enough to realize what a good man he was under all the prickles. 

Perhaps he hadn’t stayed at the inn because he had brought the Cat with him after all, and was planning on sneaking him into the Keep. He wouldn’t want Tom gossiping with anyone about an unfamiliar Witcher and revealing his plan too early. That would be something Lambert would do, just for the drama of it. If he did bring the Cat Witcher, Eskel would support him in it. The fact that Lambert got so upset so quickly proved that this was important to him, and Eskel wanted his little brother to be happy. 

A few days later Eskel arrived at the Keep and was greeted by Geralt and Vesemir who were relieved to see him alive and well. He was introduced to Jaskier, Geralt’s bard. The man was vibrant and lively, not to mention charming and beautiful. Eskel gave his brother an amused look behind the bard’s back. He wondered how long the two of them would continue to pretend they were only friends and travel companions. 

Once Eskel had gotten his things put away and wandered into the kitchen for a snack, he realized he hadn’t seen Lambert yet. Usually everyone knew when someone passed through the wards, and came to greet the new arrival to make sure they were whole and healthy after a year apart. Eskel poked his head into a few of Lambert’s favourite places, but didn’t see any sign of him. Even his room looked undisturbed. 

It worried Eskel, but he waited until everyone had gathered for supper before asking about the missing Wolf. 

“No, he hasn’t arrived yet. You know he always waits until the last minute.” answered Geralt.

That was true, and Eskel wondered if the reason for that had been because of his secret Cat friend. “But Tom at the Fox said he was there before me. He should be here by now.”

Eskel was worried. The Killer was a difficult trail and even experienced Witchers could fall off of it, but it was still early and the weather had been clear. Lambert had evidently survived that trail in the spring when it was in worse condition, so he shouldn’t have had trouble this autumn. Vesemir snorted. “That fool decided to spend the winter with that Cat,” he sneered. “At least we know he isn’t dead. That is more considerate than I expected him to be. But he made his choice and we have to live with that.”

Vesemir continued eating his meal, as if he had merely commented on the weather. Eskel didn’t like the way Vesemir talked about Lambert. The two of them had always had a rocky relationship and Eskel thought Vesemir was too hard on Lambert. The trouble was that they were too similar and often butted heads. Eskel tried his best to stay out of their arguments. He didn’t think either of them would thank him for meddling. 

He meant to bring up Lambert’s friend again, but then he got distracted by the bard. There was something off about him, nothing major that Eskel could identify, but something wasn’t quite right about him. He wasn’t the only one that noticed. Eskel caught Vesemir watching Jaskier with a frown when the bard wasn’t looking. Jaskier was friendly, helpful, and kind. Eskel never got the sense that there was anything malicious about him, but he couldn’t help but try to puzzle out why the man made his Witcher senses go crazy. 

When Jaskier finally revealed that he was Fae, it was enough of a relief to have solved the puzzle that Eskel didn’t immediately worry about having a Fae in his home. Geralt apologized for keeping it a secret, but he wanted Jaskier to have a chance to win over the other Witchers by his own merit before they judged him based on his species. 

Vesemir was understandably upset. He gave Geralt a lecture about how he should have known better than to trust a Fae, even though the Fae in question had a glamour good enough to fool even the oldest Wolf. Eventually their mentor had to concede that the reason he distrusted Jaskier was also the reason why the bard couldn’t lie about meaning no harm to the Wolf School. Jaskier was begrudgingly invited back, since it was clear he made Geralt happy. The two of them also admitted that they were in love, but unlike Jaskier’s background, that came as a surprise to no one. 

It was nice having a musician and poet in the Keep. At the very least he was someone new to talk to, but he was also well read and full of new stories and ideas. Jaskier was stronger than a human and was able to make up for the fact that Lambert wasn’t there to help with the hard work of keeping them all fed and warm during the harsh winter.

The only thing that would have made the winter better was if their youngest Wolf had come home. Eskel looked forward to seeing his missing brother next year to make sure he was safe and happy after a winter spent outside the Keep. 

But then Lambert didn’t come the next year, nor the year after that. He usually stopped at the Fox and Fiddle so Eskel knew he wasn’t dead, but he never left so much as a message for them. It hurt to think that Lambert didn’t care enough to tell them how he was doing, but apparently the Cat was all he needed. 

Eskel began looking for Lambert, hoping to cross paths with him during the summer, but he didn’t know where to look and Lambert didn’t have to pass through Kaedwen in the spring so he could be anywhere. Every now and then he caught rumours, but that was all.

The winter that Eskel arrived in Wolvenburg before Lambert was a special kind of torture. The weather was particularly bad and Eskel couldn’t risk staying to hear news about his missing brother because he feared the pass up the mountain would snow over in the next few days. Vesemir’s reassurance that Lambert would come home whenever he “stopped being stubborn” grated on Eskel’s nerves worse than normal, but he still held his tongue to avoid a pointless argument. It wasn’t until spring when he could check with Tom about the last time he saw Lambert that Eskel finally relaxed. 

As hurt and angry as he was that his brother didn’t want to come home, Eskel was grateful that Lambert at least told someone that he was alive. Until Lambert decided to come back to the Keep, Eskel would just have to keep looking for him. They had to run into each other eventually.

Chapter Text

Jaskier was playing a jaunty tune on his fiddle to get his audience members clapping along. Normally he preferred a lute, but twice a year on his way to and from Kaer Morhen, Jaskier would dust off the viol to perform in the eponymous tavern. The Fiddle always welcomed his performances. The community at the foot of the mountains rarely got outsiders. The town is known for its quality milk and cheese, the clear mountain springs and lush green valleys make for happy cows and goats, but travelers prefer to vacation on warm coastal beaches so other musicians were scarce. Whenever Jaskier performed he was sure to get an appreciative audience.

It was still early in the day and Geralt was busy in the market buying supplies for their journey up the mountain. The tavern was mostly empty, but those who had the time to take a break from work were happy to listen to his music for the afternoon. 

From the corner of his eye Jaskier saw the familiar silhouette with two swords over its shoulder walk into the bar. He turned to greet Geralt, but was surprised to see an unfamiliar Witcher approaching the bar to talk to Tom the barkeep. He watched the man with dark, slicked-back hair and frankly adorable chubby cheeks (not even the scowl could disguise how squishable they were) ask Tom if there were any messages waiting, and when he received a negative he turned to leave again, frown somehow deeper than before. 

Jaskier thought he knew who this must be. The medallion around his neck gave it away. This strange Witcher must be Lambert, who had stopped coming to the Keep around the same time Jaskier was first invited, preferring to stay with someone that the other Wolves didn't approve of. Instead of allowing the Witcher to disappear, Jaskier decided to catch up to him. He would probably like to know that Geralt was in town. None of the other Wolves had seen hide nor hair of Lambert in years, and Jaskier knew that Geralt was getting more and more worried. His silly Witcher hadn’t said it, but Jaskier suspected he was looking for his brother while they travelled, since they often changed directions if there was a rumour of another Witcher nearby. Jaskier had met a few delightful new friends that way, but so far the lost Wolf had been elusive. 

Jaskier darted out of the tavern and down the road following the broad back with two swords strapped to it. He caught up quickly and greeted the Witcher with an enthusiastic “Hello!”

Lambert looked down his nose at Jaskier in disgust, so the bard began babbling. “You must be the long lost Wolf, Lambert. It is a pleasure to finally meet you! I’m Jaskier, I’ve been travelling with Geralt. He’s just in the market now, but I know he’d be delighted to see you. Why don’t you come back to the Fiddle and I’ll buy you lunch until he gets back?”

The unfamiliar Witcher just snarled and said, “Fuck off, bard, if Geralt wanted to see me he knows what to do.” Then he continued down the road as if the conversation was over.

“Now, wait a moment,” said Jaskier, scrambling to keep up, “I’m the first one to see you in years! The others will want to know how you’re doing. They’ve all been so worried about you! At least come say hello to Geralt before you disappear again.”

The Witcher ignored him except for picking up his pace. Jaskier couldn’t help but think about the worry in Geralt’s eyes every time he mentioned his brother, and he decided to do a very foolish thing. He grabbed Lambert’s arm with his full strength and swung him around to get his attention.

Lambert froze, face clouding over like a thunderstorm, as he looked from the grip on his arm to Jaskier’s face and back. Jaskier took the opportunity to plead his case. “They’re worried about you, won’t you at least stay long enough to talk to Geralt? Whatever fight you had can’t be so bad that you won’t even stop to tell him - urk”

Lambert grabbed Jaskier around the throat and slammed him into a wall. He pressed close, his snarling face inches from Jaskier’s. Jaskier gasped around the hand that was cutting off his air and reached up to grab Lambert’s wrist. The irate Witcher used his free hand to pull out a steel knife and pressed it against the bare skin of Jaskier’s fingers. Jaskier flinched as the metal burned his skin.

“You’re a fucking Fae!” he spit. The knife was moved to hover over Jaskier’s heart. 

“Yes, please, I don’t mean any harm. You know I can’t lie. I would never hurt Geralt or Eskel or Vesemir. Or you!” Jaskier babbled. He could push the Witcher away, but then he would have to drop his glamour and this was a public road. A fight with a Witcher would bring too much attention. 

“You’re a fucking Fae, and fucking Geralt is bringing you to Kaer Morhen?” Lambert demanded. His face was still murderous and his hands hadn’t moved. 

“Yes, I’ve been going there for six years! The other Wolves know I wouldn’t hurt them.”

“Vesemir let a Fae into the fucking Keep,” Lambert said. “He knew he was letting a Fae into the Keep even though you’re the least trustworthy fucking bastards in the damned bestiary. Fuck you.”

Lambert let go and Jaskier resisted the urge to sink to the ground in relief. The Witcher backed away and Jaskier thought he almost looked hurt under all that anger. “It was never about trust was it? You can tell Geralt - tell them all - that they can take their double fucking standard and choke on it. I won’t waste any more time on an invitation that isn’t coming. I won’t be back again.” 

He stormed away and Jaskier rubbed at his sore throat. Well, he had finally met Lambert and he was as much of a prick as Geralt had promised. He didn’t understand why his dear Wolf worried about this bastard so much. Jaskier would be happy never to see him again. If this was how he felt about his people, Jaskier was glad he wasn’t stuck up a mountain with him every winter. 

Feeling petty, since Lambert had ruined his voice with his squeezing, Jaskier didn’t bring up the encounter until well after his after-dinner set was finished. It was too late for Geralt to go after his brother that night, and Jaskier knew he should feel bad about that since Geralt would undoubtedly have preferred to run after his brother as soon as possible. But Jaskier didn’t want to see Lambert again when the young Wolf so clearly didn’t care how much his avoidance hurt his family. He didn’t want Geralt to invite the bigoted asshole up the mountain and have to suffer through an uncomfortable winter together. 

Jaskier did feel a bit bad when Geralt chose to waste a full day tracking his brother through the woods. The man had a huge head start and knew how to cover his tracks well enough that even Geralt couldn’t figure out which direction he had gone. Jaskier felt a stab of guilt at Geralt’s devastated face when he gave up on following his brother, not knowing when he would get another chance to see him. 

The musician tried to apologize, but Geralt merely shrugged and said, “He made his choice. I’m sorry he hurt you.” Jaskier knew that it was still bothering his partner, but he knew when Geralt appreciated Jaskier pushing and when it was better to leave something alone. 

They arrived at the Keep to be greeted by Vesemir, who always returned from the Path first, and surprisingly Eskel. Normally the scarred Wolf Witcher was the last to arrive, but this year he’d returned early because he’d been given a goat of all things as payment and decided he wanted the poor thing to live safely at the Keep. Jaskier shook his head fondly while Eskel described how he’d won Lil’ Bleater. He’d been worried that Eskel felt lonely, if the man wanted to bring a pet, that was up to him. 

The routine of settling in was familiar after all these years. It was almost like clockwork to unpack and settle the horses, carry their supplies to the pantry and cold cellar, unpack their belongings, and retire to the kitchen to eat and swap stories from their time apart.

This year it was Eskel and not Geralt that asked, "Any word from Lambert?" 

"Yes," Jaskier replied while he husked an ear of corn for dinner. "I ran into him at the Fiddle in Wolvenburg."

Eskel sat up, immediately alert. Jaskier wasn’t surprised that he was so anxious, this is the first time anyone had actually seen Lambert instead of just hearing that he’d talked to Tom. "How is he?" he asked eagerly.

"Angry and rude," Jaskier huffed. "He pushed me up against a building and threatened me."

Vesemir grumbled about temper tantrums and bad influences, but Eskel paid him no mind.

"But did he look well? Did he give you any messages for us?" Eskel pressed. Jaskier always suspected that he felt Lambert's absence the most out of all of them. Vesemir was still angry at the youngest wolf for the argument they’d had before he disappeared, and Geralt had Jaskier to distract him whenever he was feeling melancholy, and Jaskier himself had never met the man to miss him.

Jaskier related his encounter with Lambert with all of his usual flair and drama. When he was done Eskel was frowning harder. 

"What did he mean about the invitation?" he asked.

“I’ve been wondering that too,” said Geralt, staring into the kitchen fire as if it held the answers.

Vesemir snorted irritably. "The invitation to bring that Cat to the Keep. He refuses to come home without him."

With synchronized movements both Geralt and Eskel slowly turned to look at their former trainer. "What do you mean?" Eskel asked, voice completely neutral.

"He told me to leave a note at the Fox if we changed our minds about letting that Cat stay here. He'll come to his senses soon enough and come home."

"Vesemir," Geralt rumbled, eyebrows furrowed, "You told us he chose to spend his winters with his friend. It's been six years now."

"I'm surprised as you are, but Lambert has always been a little slow." Vesemir replied.

Eskel stood abruptly, knocking his chair over behind him. "Don't talk about him like that. You mean to tell me I haven't seen my brother in six years because you've been holding a grudge? "

Jaskier had never seen Eskel lose his temper before. The Witcher was usually so calm and level-headed, it was alarming.

Vesemir's face hardened. "It's more than a grudge. You were there. Did you forget what those backstabbers did to our brothers? To Rennes, Aubry, and Clovis? Did you forget watching Gweld fall?"

"No, but it means I haven't forgotten what it feels like to lose a brother, and now you're telling me I could have had Lambert here and safe this whole time?" Eskel raged.

Vesemir waved a dismissive hand. "Lambert is perfectly fine, but he's always been a stubborn fool." 

"Wonder where he gets that from." Jaskier murmured under his breath, but everyone was too preoccupied to notice. It was his own private opinion that the old Wolf was too stuck in his ways to realize that the men who were his students were now competent and skilled Witchers. He still treated them like they were children sometimes, or that they couldn’t possibly know better than him. Geralt and Eskel never complained, so Jaskier never brought it up, but it rubbed him the wrong way to hear someone snapping orders at Geralt. 

"Don't talk about him like that!" Eskel shouted. "We're bringing him back. Next winter. We're leaving that note like we should have done years ago, and we're going to look for him and bring him back. With his friend."

Vesemir looked thunderous. "I will not have a Cat in my Keep. Geralt, talk some sense into him."

"This is not just your Keep," Geralt replied. His voice was almost expressionless, but Jaskier knew him well enough to know that Geralt was furious. "You don't decide alone who stays and who doesn't. Lambert will bring his guest, and if you don't like it, it can be your turn to stay away for the winter next year."

"How dare you -"

"How dare you!" Eskel countered. "How dare you chase away one of the last of our guild. How dare you keep this from us for all this time."

“I wanted to keep you safe,” Vesemir argued.

“No, you know damned well one Cat wouldn’t hurt us and Lambert would never ask to bring someone he didn’t trust. You wanted to win an argument and you’d rather make us all suffer because you can’t admit you’re wrong. If that’s how you feel then I won’t come back here without Lambert.”

Geralt cleared his throat and said, “Nor I.” 

The three wolves stared at each other for a long moment. Jaskier barely dared to breathe. Finally Vesemir lowered his head and swallowed. In a small voice he said, “I should have told you why he came to Wolvenburg each year. I knew you worried for him, but I assumed you would agree with me. I have wronged you both, and I am sorry.”

“Apologize to Lambert when he gets here next year,” scoffed Eskel. “Mel, I need a drink.”

Eskel turned on his heel and left the kitchen. Geralt followed and Jaskier scampered after him. He didn’t want to be left alone with Vesemir after that fight. The old Wolf could stew on his actions. 

Jaskier felt bad about how he had thought about Lambert. No wonder the Witcher was upset when he found out Jaskier was a Fae. He knew the history between the two schools and the reputation Cat Witchers had, but he also knew that many of the Fair Folk had no issue harming Witchers whenever they got a chance and that their reputation was far worse. If the same people denied Lambert’s companion while welcoming a Fae with open arms, he could hardly blame the man for lashing out. 

The winter was tense, with both Eskel and Geralt angry with Vesemir. For his part, the former fencing master seemed to be thinking about his past choices and acknowledging that he’d made a mistake.

That spring when they left the Keep all of them carried identical letters to the one they left with Tom at the Fox and Fiddle. This year they were going to hunt for more than contracts, they were going to follow every whisper of a Wolf Witcher and bring their lost brother home.

Chapter Text

Geralt was in Ellander visiting Nenneke in the Temple of Melitele when he first heard the gossip. Apparently a Witcher - a Cat Witcher - had broken the curse on the local Duke’s daughter earlier that year. As soon as Geralt learned about the story, he bid the priestess goodbye and followed the Witcher’s trail. 

It took a month following any rumour he could, but eventually Geralt found someone who had actually seen Lambert. He followed the trail all the way to a cave in the woods. There was a scent of smoke and a horse picketed nearby where it could reach a shallow stream, so Geralt entered cautiously. He had to go deep into the darkness, and at one point he stumbled over the bones of a long-dead ogre. 

Geralt almost didn’t realize it when he stumbled into Lambert’s camp. The stench was unexpected. It was obvious his brother hadn't left the cave for days, not even for the barest hygienic necessities. Under the foul odor whas the unmistakable smell of White Gull. Lambert was blind drunk.

Ignoring his surroundings, Geralt did his best to make Lambert more comfortable. He pressed one of his waterskins into Lambert’s hand and encouraged him to drink it. Geralt used the other one to wet a cloth and attempted to remove the worst of the filth from Lambert’s face. The missing wolf was still drunk when Geralt finally convinced him to pack up his camp and move closer to the cave entrance so they could light a fire. It worried Geralt that he had to bribe Lambert with more alcohol to get him to cooperate. 

Geralt didn’t give Lambert any more alcohol, instead he pressed him into eating some food and drinking more water. Lambert eventually passed out and Geralt meditated until he woke up again. Geralt was very worried about Lambert’s behaviour. He had never expected to find his brother so out of control. Geralt resolved to stay with Lambert until he was feeling better from whatever had caused this distress. Hopefully at Kaer Morhen, but if not they could spend the Winter in Oxenfurt. Jaskier had already lined up work in case they didn’t return to the Keep for the winter. 

Lambert finally woke up around midday the next day. Geralt wordlessly passed him more water and food. 

“What’re you doing here?” Lambert mumbled. He was clearly hungover, but there was more to it than that. Geralt didn’t like seeing his brother in this state.

“Looking for you. We’ve all been looking for you for years, Lambert.” Geralt shifted, trying to meet Lambert’s eyes but his brother was scowling at his hands. Geralt wanted to make things right between them - make Lambert understand how wanted he was. “I'm so sorry Lamb. We didn't know. Eskel and I, we didn't know we could get you back."

"Not like you cared too much when I left. Didn't say anything at all." Lambert sneered.

Geralt felt a stab of guilt. He was right. He had been too surprised and uncomfortable to stand up for Lambert the last time he saw him. He hadn’t said anything and Lambert had taken the silence as Geralt agreeing with Vesemir. "We thought we would have more time. We didn't think you'd leave."

"So it's my fault for fucking storming out. Impulsive erratic Lambert."

"No, Lamb. It is still our fault for not speaking up sooner. We should have and I'm sorry. Here." Geralt held out the written invitation.

"What's this?"

Lambert didn't take the envelope so Geralt placed it in his lap. "A formal invitation. We want you home. You and any friend you want to bring with you."

Lambert broke into hysterical laughter. He laughed long and loud. He picked up the envelope and tossed it into the fire without opening it.

"Too little, too fucking late, asshole. Aiden's gone."

"Gone?" Geralt repeated.

"Yup. Killed by a group of assassins because some greedy titled fucks didn’t like him curing that marchioness bitch. Gone."

"Lambert, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah? You're fucking sorry? I don’t need your pity. If you’re so sorry, asshole, you're going to help me get some fucking revenge."

Geralt had no choice but to agree. Together they tracked down the members of the band of assassins. Along the way, the two of them learned that the leader of the mercenaries, Jad Karadin, was involved with slaving on top of the assassinations. Lambert didn’t touch another drop of alcohol, but Geralt could tell he was suffering through his grief.

They finally tracked Karadin down to his home in Novigrad. It turned out he was a retired Witcher who had renounced his previous work. Geralt was conflicted about killing the man in his home in front of his wife and children, but he knew he needed to trust Lambert. His brother may not be emotionally stable at the moment, but if he said that Aiden wouldn’t run after a botched contract, Geralt would just have to believe him. 

Geralt barely needed to help with the fight. Lambert’s rage fueled him and it wasn’t long before he slid his sword straight though Karadin’s chest. The body slumped to the ground and Geralt heard a gasp from behind them. It was the wife. 

He turned to try and explain their actions to the woman, but it turned out she wasn’t his wife at all. She and the children were slaves, threatened into obedience by Karadin. Geralt advised her to take what she could from the house and leave with the children before the guards found out what had happened. The woman nodded and hurried away. 

Geralt turned back to Lambert in time to see him take something from Karadin’s body and put it in his pocket. He didn’t begrudge Lambert the trophy, but he did hurry him away before they would have to cut their way through angry guards. 

That night they camped outside the city. Geralt brought up the idea he had been sitting on since Lambert threw the letter into the fire. “You should come home to Kaer Morhen this year. We miss you. Eskel wants to know that you’re safe.”

Lambert clenched his jaw and looked away. After a long moment he answered. “Ask me again in the morning. For now, I’d like it if you would drink a toast to Aiden’s memory with me.”

Geralt wasn’t sure about encouraging Lambert to drink, but he seemed more stable now that Karadin was dead, so he agreed.

Lambert enjoyed brewing his own alcohol and Geralt missed the interesting flavours that his brother could come up with. The one Lambert offered this time was peculiar, but Geralt didn’t complain. They drank in silence, watching the logs in the fire pop and crack. 

Geralt realized he was suddenly exhausted. It had been a stressful summer and a busy few weeks tracking down Aiden’s killers. The night was warm and his brother was safe beside him. Sleepily, Geralt rolled into his bedroll and sighed as he sank into the familiar comfort. 

Before he drifted off, he heard Lambert speak to him. The words didn’t make sense. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry it had to end like this. Goodbye Geralt.”

Geralt tried to rouse himself, to ask what Lambert meant, but his brain wouldn’t cooperate and his limbs were too heavy to move. 

•················•·················•

Geralt woke up slowly the next day. His head was pounding and he felt like his limbs were made of lead. He lay for a long time in the bright sunlight waiting for his head to clear. He felt as hungover as Lambert had looked when Geralt first found him. 

Lambert.

Sitting up, Geralt looked around the campsite. Their horses, Roach and Lambert’s gelding, were nowhere to be seen and neither was Lambert. Hanging from the tree that the horses had been tied to were two swords in their harness. Hanging from the hilt of the silver sword was a wolf’s head medallion. 

Geralt’s stomach dropped as he realized what happened. Lambert had drugged him. His brother had always been skilled in potion making. A non-detectable sleeping draft was not beyond his abilities. Groaning, Geralt stumbled to his feet and gathered the few belongings that hadn’t disappeared with the horses. 

There was an obvious trail leading away from the camp. Geralt followed it for a while until he came to a stream. There he saw Roach tied to a branch, all of his things neatly packed on her back. Lambert knew how much he loved his horses so stealing Roach would have just been a way to slow Geralt down, not take her away. The trail ended at the stream. Lambert must have taken his horse into the water to avoid detection. 

Following his instincts, Geralt led Roach downstream. He knew Lambert didn’t want him to follow, but Geralt wasn’t going to let go that easily. His guess paid off, because after a long walk along the river, Geralt finally saw hoofprints leading away from the water and eagerly followed them. The tracks lead to a road, and Geralt rode swiftly to try and make up for some of the head start Lambert had gotten last night. 

It was hours later that a merchant caravan appeared going in the other direction. Geralt was dismayed. With all the wagons and horses, his brother's trail would be obliterated. He led Roach to the side to let them pass, and was considering his options when he spotted a familiar horse and baggage among the rest.

“Hey there!” he called. A man detached himself and waited for Geralt to continue. He pointed to Lambert’s horse and asked. “Where did you get that horse? He belongs to my brother.”

The man looked nervous, but the commotion caught the attention of the leader of the caravan, who came over to explain. They had found the horse wandering riderless along the road and had taken it in case they found the rider in distress on their way. Geralt suspected they had less selfless motives, but didn’t call them on the lie. After questioning how long ago they found the beast, Geralt learned that it had been hours ago, closer to daybreak when it was now midafternoon. 

Lambert had successfully disappeared. There was no way Geralt could track his brother, not when the other Witcher would have stepped off the road at any point and disappeared into the trees. Lambert knew how to cover his tracks, and this whole morning he’d put Geralt on a wild goose chase. 

Lambert had sent him a clear message when he left the swords and his medallion. A Witcher would only part with the tools of his trade if he were dead. After travelling with Jaskier for so long, Geralt could understand the symbolism. Lambert was telling them that he was dead to them. He was gone, and he wasn't going to come back.

Resigned to his loss, Geralt negotiated with the merchant to retrieve Lambert’s baggage but allowed them to keep the horse. He wasn’t able to care for two and he despaired about finding Lambert again. 

Looking through Lambert’s things, Geralt was reassured that his brother must have taken everything he needed to survive on foot. 

There was nothing left for Geralt to do but return to Wolvenburg empty-handed. The Wolf school had agreed to meet at the Fox before heading up the trail. Geralt had left Jaskier in Oxenfurt with plans to join him there once he told his story. He was the last to arrive. He explained to the other Wolves what happened and showed them the swords and medallion. Eskel was distraught and refused to accept that they had lost their brother. He vowed to continue searching for him. Geralt agreed. Vesemir stared at the swords, face pale and drawn. He gathered them up and explained that he would bring them up to the Keep and spend the winter there alone. 

Chapter Text

The irony was, Vesemir hadn't even known about the Mages' tower when he stopped for the night in that small town. But when a frightened serving girl asked him if he was here about it, he figured it was his duty to at least look.

And then he saw the bodies.

It didn't take too long to dispatch the Mages. They weren't expecting him. Vesemir didn't know if they were experimenting on these people, or if they just liked torture. It didn't matter. He had seen many things in his long life, but this had to be one of the worst. Such senseless violence.

He was doing the gruesome task of piling the bodies to burn - no sense in attracting necrophages and causing more grief for the village - when he realized one of the victims, shackled in a cage at the very back, was still alive.

Barely, horribly alive.

He was leaning over the man, assessing his injuries, marvelling that anyone could have survived the sheer amount of damage, and deciding if it would be kinder to heal him or put him out of his misery, when the body spoke.

It was one word, a name, but the last thing Vesemir expected to hear.

"Lambert."

Vesemir reared back and saw that the man's eye, the one that wasn't swollen shut with a worrisome amount of gore and puss, was fixed on his wolf medallion. A slitted, yellow-green eye.

He watched, speechless, as the Witcher closed his eye then sighed. "Came for me. Knew you would. Love you, Lamb."

Well fuck.

Suddenly his youngest Pup's stubbornness made a horrible amount of sense. He hadn't fought his family over a friend all those years ago, the Cat was his lover. It had almost broken Vesemir to know that his decision had driven away one of the men he secretly considered to be his children. When Geralt arrived in Wolvenburg almost a year ago with Lambert’s swords, Vesemir finally realized that the pain of losing his brothers to a tournament long ago was nothing compared to the pain of losing Lambert. 

He had been such a fool. He should have trusted Lambert. He should have welcomed the Cat years ago. Instead he had chosen to be stubborn. He had thought he knew best, that Lambert needed tough love and a firm hand to guide him away from trouble. Tough love had never worked on Lambert. He was the type to be contrary on purpose, even when it made his life more difficult. Vesemir assumed his attachment to the Cat was just that, a rebellion against being told what to do. 

Vesemir had assumed the Cat was a bad influence who was toying with Lambert for his own enjoyment, ready to turn on the Wolf whenever he stopped being convenient or entertaining. He never even considered that there might be real regard between the two of them. But Eskel and Geralt had been so convinced that Lambert wouldn’t have stayed so long with someone he didn’t trust or respect. It should have been an obvious leap of logic to realize that the Cat was someone Lambert cared about, cared about more than his own family. And it seems like this man returned Lambert’s regard. 

Vesemir had tried to push Lambert into doing what he thought was best, but he didn’t realize that all he had done was push Lambert away. And then when Lambert needed comfort the most, he didn’t trust that he would find it at home, he didn’t seek out the support of his brothers. Vesemir’s heart broke whenever he thought of his lost son alone in a hard world, dealing with his grief by himself. Geralt had told them how he’d found Lambert, and Vesemir lay awake at night worrying that his young Wolf would just give up. Would look for comfort in the bottom of a bottle and forget to take care of himself. He wished he could find Lambert, just so he could apologize like he should have years ago. He wished he could find Lambert and know that he was safe.

But instead Vesemir found the Cat that everyone thought was dead, and he couldn't let it become true.

It took weeks before Vesemir felt safe moving the Cat to a city. He had to wait for the bones to heal enough to move without causing more damage, which meant in many cases he needed to break and reset them where they had healed wrong. 

Removing the eye was the worst part. Vesemir needed to keep his patient still, so he brewed a potion he hadn't needed to make since there were lads going through the trials. It was a painkiller, up to a point. But it also kept the boys still so their thrashing wouldn't injure them unnecessarily. The injured Witcher woke and thrashed as much as he could when Vesemir poured the potion down his throat. Vesemir didn't blame him, it had always had a distinctive taste. 

When the Cat - Aiden, Lambert’s friend’s name was Aiden - was finally stable enough, Vesemir loaded him into a cart padded with straw and drove him to a nearby sorceress that he knew and trusted. Triss was able to heal a lot more of the damage, but the Witcher would need rest and care for a long time to come. Autumn was well underway, so Vesemir decided to bring Aiden to Kaer Morhen to recover. Triss kindly provided him with a portal just outside of the Keep's wards to save him and his charge the long, uncomfortable journey.

He sent letters to the remaining members of his School and the bard telling them about his discovery and urging them to continue looking for Lambert to tell him that Aiden was alive.

Aiden never regained enough lucidity to talk again. Sometimes Vesemir heard him whimpering in his sleep, and heard mumbles of no and stop. Vesemir tried not to think of the Cat’s continued unconsciousness as a bad sign. His body needed to heal, and the potions Vesemir was feeding him would keep him knocked out for long periods of time. He hoped that Aiden’s body recognized that he was safe, and was allowing him to slip into a restful state so he could spend his energy healing. 

Vesemir made it up the Trail with the injured Witcher and installed him in Lambert’s room. It was a mockery of how the Cat should have been welcomed, but at least it wasn’t too late. Vesemir had a lot of making up to do, and he would start by nursing Aiden back to full health. 

He hoped that would be enough. 

Chapter Text

Aiden drifted to the surface slowly. He was groggy and he didn't have the energy to move an eyelid, let alone any of his limbs. His dreams had been bad lately, and he tried to sift through them to figure out what was real. 

He'd dreamt of Lambert, that had to be false, it felt like his stomach was cut open and filled with stones at the thought of Lambert coming anywhere near his captors. He missed Lambert so badly but he was glad his lover hadn't been tortured by Jad or the mages. Hopefully he hadn't babbled Lambert's name in his delusion, normally he would protect Lambert with his life and he didn’t want anyone to go looking for him. Imagining Lambert - alive, furious, and searching for him - was the only thing that stopped Aiden from giving up entirely. 

Aiden had also dreamt of the Trials. That was understandable - he had been restrained and tortured. It was only normal that treatment would bring back those memories. Although, he was still out of it enough that he didn't feel any pain. That was probably bad.

There were also distant memories of being moved. Carried, rocked in a cart for a long time, going through a portal. Those were probably true, and definitely worrying. 

Aiden pulled in deep breaths to help wake himself up. There was a breeze in the room, fresh and clear, but it overlaid the smell of dust and neglected fabric. There was the faintest trace of a scent in the air, something familiar and safe but he couldn't quite figure it out.

Aiden blinked his eyes open, but his vision was dark. It took him a few more blinks to realize the room was dark. A single oil lamp on a chest of drawers threw flickering light over the space. An open window showed the night sky, but not enough to recognize any constellations or get a sense of direction. 

It was a stone room, the wall with the window was rounded like it was part of a larger circle. Another tower room? It had wooden furniture and personal items scattered around. Someone's bedroom? Aiden sniffed again and decided that whoever lived here hadn't used it in years, but there was still something familiar he still couldn't place.

Gaining a bit more lucidity, Aiden attempted a trick that usually helped wake him up and return feeling to his numb fingers. Carefully, he tapped each of the fingers on his right hand against his thumb, largest to smallest, then back. Satisfied, he moved onto his other hand and froze when the movement was restricted. Restrained? But no, when he jerked against the thing, his hand moved. Something was in his hand. 

There was an awful crick in his neck that kept him from turning his head, but now that feeling had returned to his right arm he was able to flop it towards his face and manually push his head to the left with a pathetic whimper. From his new vantage point he noticed two things: the door to the room was propped open, and there was a piece of paper in his hand. The door was odd, it should be locked. He should be locked in and every bone in his body ached to run to the promised freedom. Every muscle in his body just ached, so he stayed in the bed. The window hadn't been barred either, like his captors were begging for him to escape. Something to work towards when he stopped being so groggy.

Aiden turned his attention to the paper. It was tied to his hand by a string, impossible to miss. For a frantic moment he remembered a morgue he had once seen in a healer's workshop, the little paper labels on the toes of the cadavers. Aiden shuddered and brought the paper closer to him so he could inspect it. 

It looked like the paper had writing on it, but it was still too dark to make any sense of it. With a jolt, Aiden realized he could only see out of one eye. The adrenaline made it possible to push himself up to a seated position and grope at his face. He had bandages tightly woven around the left side of his head. He hoped that the bandage was just blocking his vision, but a sense of dread told him it was more serious than that. 

The covers had fallen away and Aiden saw he was dressed in a soft shirt. It fell loosely around his frame, reminding him of the times he'd stolen Lambert's clothing in the mornings after nights when their possessions got enthusiastically thrown around. This shirt was too big to be Lambert's, he was swimming in it, whereas his lover's was closer to his size. Under the shirt he could feel the tug of more bandages around his torso.

From his upright position, Aiden was able to angle the paper in his hand towards the meagre lightsource. He was shocked to discover that in a tidy, clear script, it bore his name. Carefully opening the letter and moving closer to the light, Aiden read the note. 

Do not hurt yourself, please. You are injured and moving will make it worse. Please rest. You are safe here. I assume you will not believe this, so if you must run, please wear the coat and boots provided. It is winter and the snow in the mountains will kill you even faster if you aren't dressed for it. 

Rest. Eat. You are safe. I will explain more in person.

-V

Aiden stared at the note for a long moment, not quite understanding or believing what he was seeing. Finally he took another look around the room. There was a chill coming in through the open window. Winter in the mountains. Huh. That answered a few questions Aiden hadn't gotten around to asking yet, but raised many more. In the doorway to the room, where anyone would trip on them, were the promised boots and cloak. 

Finally Aiden's gaze landed on a side table with a plate of food and a pitcher of water. His stomach rolled and his parched mouth reminded him that it must have been a long time since he had last eaten. 

He didn't trust the food laid out by an unknown person, but he pushed himself closer to the food out of desperation. Aiden had to pull the pillows over and prop himself up because he was too weak to hold himself up for much longer. He investigated the offerings, starting with the water. It didn't smell like it was laced with anything, and a cautious sip didn't taste like anything either. Perhaps there was a mineral tang to it, but now that Aiden had a taste he couldn't stop himself from downing the whole pitcher. His stomach ached at being overfull after too long, but otherwise he felt no ill effects. 

Aiden eyed the plate of food next. Eggs in the shell (hardboiled?), fruit with a peel, cheese in a wax coating. Probably not the best food to eat while recovering from injuries and starvation, but also food that was difficult to tamper with. His mystery caretaker, this V , knew that Aiden would be suspicious. 

He sniffed and nibbled at the food until he was satisfied that there was no harm and then he ate until his stomach protested. He was surprised that the amount of food he ate didn't make him sick, but now that he was able to better assess his body, he found that he was more healed than he should be. 

The realization didn't put him at ease, there were too many questions he didn't know the answer to for him to feel comfortable. Aiden didn't want to lounge around in bed waiting for whoever this V person was, even if - especially if - they wanted Aiden to believe he was safe. 

Aiden swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood, and waited for the spots to clear from his vision. He moved to the door, a little shaky but with less pain than he was expecting. He knew he had broken bones the last time he was lucid, but none of them had healed crookedly. 

Stooping, Aiden pulled on the boots and cloak then looked around for anything he could use as a weapon. A glint of metal caught his eye, coming from the top of the chest of drawers with the lamp, too tall for him to have noticed from the bed, but visible now that he was standing. He moved closer and saw a pair of swords in their leather sheaths. Familiar swords.

Lambert's swords.

Oh fuck no. 

Dizziness swept over Aiden that had nothing to do with his recent diet, and he clutched the edge of the dresser for support. Heaving deep breaths, his mind raced trying to figure out the reasons why Lambert's swords would be here.

Lambert could be here, but no - his Wolf wouldn't leave his side if Aiden was injured. They'd argued about it before, Lambert's mother-hen tendencies overruling his need to rest. If Lambert were here, he'd be here unless he didn't have a say in it. He wouldn't leave a note signed V and nothing else. So Lambert was not here, and didn't have his swords. Or he was here and being kept somewhere else and still didn't have his swords.

Aiden refused to think about any other option. 

Aiden strapped the swords to his back, thankful they were still in their harness, and crept out the door. There was a stairwell, confirming Aiden's suspicions about being in a tower. Silently he crept down until the steps ran out and he was facing a hallway. Halfway down a door was open with flickering firelight spilling into the darkness.

He stepped silently through the shadows, doing his best to avoid detection. He must have been in worse shape than he thought, because a few steps from the door a voice called out to him. 

"You're awake. Come let me explain where you are."

Aiden drew Lambert's steel sword and slunk towards the open door. He paused against the wall beside the door, peeking in sideways to get his limited vision used to the light, sword at the ready.

When no one came out he turned to face the room and blocked the door. He quickly took in the furniture, a few chairs and couches ranged around a hearth, but focused the rest of his attention on the speaker.

It was another Witcher. Aiden could tell even at this distance. The Witcher was old, showing signs of his age that must make him a few centuries old at least. Only skilled Witchers grew old. The Witcher was leaning against the back wall, far from Aiden. He was wearing soft clothes and wasn't obviously armed. Visibly threatening or not, Aiden wasn't likely to be able to beat him in a fight. He was too tired and still aching from injuries and being chained so long. 

Aiden didn't say anything, just held Lambert's sword at the ready. 

"Hello Aiden," the old Witcher said, "I am Vesemir of the Wolf school. Allow me to give you a long overdue welcome to Kaer Morhen."

It took every piece of Aiden's self control not to react. He had never met Vesemir before, assuming this man really was who he claimed to be, but Aiden knew he didn't like him. Vesemir hurt Lambert. Year after year Aiden had to watch his lover get his hopes up just to be rejected over and over again. And Aiden was the one who had to pick up the pieces each time. He'd always promised himself that if he ever met this self-proclaimed leader of the Wolf School, he would give him a piece of his mind. He never expected to meet him like this.

"Where is Lambert?" Aiden demanded. He didn't lower the blade even though they both knew it was an empty threat.

"He thinks you're dead," Vesemir said, instead of giving a clear answer. "He avenged you with the help of another Wolf, then he left his swords and disappeared."

Aiden's heart lurched at the words. His poor Lamb. Just thinking about losing his lover hurt too much to bear, and Lambert had to live through it. Aiden tightened his grip on he sword and held on to his neutral expression. "So why am I here?"

"I found you, and realized who you were. I killed the mages and healed you as best as I could. Then I brought you here to keep you safe until you are well again."

"I thought you of all people would be happy to finish the job yourself," he sneered. "Why bother healing me when killing me means I'll stay away from Lambert for good?"

Vesemir's face changed. It was almost hard to see, but Aiden was used to his own Wolf's microexpressions. The lines around the mouth got deeper and the old Witcher seemed to age decades. "I'm sorry. I hurt you both for so long because I was too busy being a stubborn old fool who needed to win an argument instead of seeing the harm I was causing to everyone around me. I saved you because from the moment Lambert gave you his trust, I should have treated you like you were part of the pack. Because saving you was the right thing to do, and I'm praying it isn't too late to fix my mistakes."

Aiden didn't say anything for a long moment, just processing the words. Finally he let the sword drop and said, "Fuck, I don't think I could have hallucinated that, this must be really happening."

"Hopefully I continue to be believable. Now, are you ready to sit down and let me see how much of my hard work you undid?"

Aiden did as he was told, but kept a hand on Lambert's sword. He still didn't fully trust Vesemir, there were too many years of hurt in his past for that, but he was willing to watch and see if he was as safe here as Vesemir claimed. 

He learned that the two of them were stuck in Kaer Morhen together for the winter, the other two Wolves were out looking for their lost fourth member. Unless he wanted to die of hypothermia, Aiden had to stay in the Keep until the spring thaw.

Vesemir proved to be both completely different and exactly the same as Aiden expected. He tended to Aiden with a startling amount of care; changing his bandages and cooking him food. He was nothing but welcoming and never once commented on Aiden's school. However, he was also stoic and infuriatingly stern. Everything about the Old Wolf's personality was perfectly calculated to clash with Lambert's, and Aiden gained even more sympathy for his lover's stories of their arguments and fights. 

Aiden bore it with surprising grace, until he began training again and the constant hovering and unasked-for advice finally became too much.

"Your left side guard is sloppy." Vesemir observed from where he was standing and watching Aiden train against a horrible device called the Pendulum. 

Aiden grit his teeth and ran through a calming breathing exercise he'd learned from a druid. When he was sure that he wouldn't snap, Aiden turned and forced a smile on his face. 

"Thank you for the observation," he said, "but if I can make a request, I would appreciate it if you kept your comments to yourself unless you have any advice to share."

Vesemir frowned. "I am giving you advice."

Aiden let out a breath and passed over all of the responses he would have liked to make. Living with Lambert's volatile temper had taught him how to be clear and non-confrontational. "Thank you. I understand that you are trying to help. Your teaching style seems to focus on pointing out areas that need improvement, but unfortunately I already know what I am doing wrong. I know my left side guard is weak. I know I can do the drills faster. I know I need to practice my aim. Of course I do! I was tortured for a year and I lost an eye, of course I have to learn to adjust to those changes. I don't need you to point out that those areas need work. So I'm asking you to keep comments like that to yourself, but if you have advice - specific advice - on things like corrections I can make or techniques I can practice then I would be grateful to hear them."

Vesemir didn't answer, so Aiden bowed to him and continued practicing. He focused on his left handed parries and guards. Vesemir continued to watch, but didn't make any more comments.

The next day Vesemir showed him a strength building routine the Wolves used to teach to the newly Grassed trainees to get them used to their new bodies. Aiden appreciated that the old Wolf had listened to his feedback and not gotten offended that he’d critiqued his teaching style. How Lambert dealt with that teaching style for decades was beyond Aiden - unless of course his prickly Wolf just blew up at his teacher and Vesemir pushed back until both sides were angry and frustrated…. Actually that seemed more likely from what Aiden knew about Lambert and Vesemir’s relationship. 

It was odd being in Kaer Morhen without Lambert after years of his lover waiting to see if they would be allowed in. Every year since they first started travelling together they would travel up to Ard Carraigh and split up, Lambert continuing north and Aiden going back south. For the last half-dozen years, Aiden would wait for Lambert to either send word to follow or return after being rejected once again. So far Lambert had always returned disappointed. 

It was bittersweet, knowing that Lambert would choose Aiden over everything else. Year after year he chose Aiden over seeing his family and staying in a place of safety. It was extremely flattering to know just how completely Aiden held his lover’s heart, but at the same time it was terrifying. He didn’t want his Wolf to start to resent him for keeping him away from his home and family. 

Aiden only made the mistake once of suggesting Lambert go back without him. The Wolf Witcher had insisted - loudly and unmistakably - that he would rather be with Aiden than anywhere else in the world and that old bastards weren’t going to separate them because of history neither of them had lived through. It was a touching speech that led to a passionate evening. Aiden still remembered the sound of Lambert whispering in his ear, "You're the only home I need."

But now Aiden was living in Lambert's other home without his lover. And Lambert was out there somewhere alone.

The winter progressed. Aiden continued to heal and grow stronger. His balance and depth perception improved, although it wasn't the same as it used to be. Another unpleasant side effect was that his injuries ached in the cold. Vesemir had done his best to reset the bones, but his joints were stiff and ached. There was pain in his hands and feet that made him think the bones there hadn't healed quite right. Some days he couldn't even get out of bed, he just lay curled up with the pain consuming him. Vesemir brought him food and a numbing salve whenever that happened. Aiden was grateful to him.

He had nightmares most nights. In his dreams he would find himself back in that tower. Sometimes he would find Lambert there instead, and have to see him just as broken as he was before Vesemir found him. He spent many sleepless nights in Lambert's bed, unable to get up and pace because he didn't want to let his joints get too cold.

Every morning he looked out of the tower window to see if the snow had melted, and wondered if Lambert used to look out at the same view, just as desperate to reunite as Aiden was now.

When the spring came Aiden would have to look for his Wolf. If the others hadn't found him - Lambert knew how to hide his tracks when he was in a mood - then Aiden had a few ideas about where to look.

Chapter Text

Geralt’s search for Lambert had so far achieved unexpected results. He had been travelling through Toussaint both because it was far enough south that the Wolf School rarely passed through, making it an ideal hiding place for Lambert, and because it was far enough south to not be ass-bitingly cold for winter travel. 

Along the way Geralt had somehow befriended a higher vampire, protected a duchess, and been gifted a vineyard. Completely out of his depth and no closer to finding Lambert, Geralt retreated to Novigrad where he had left Jaskier, to ask his lover’s advice on what to do.

He was expecting to get a hard time from the poet for finding himself in such a ridiculous and unlikely situation, only to find that in his absence Jaskier had somehow inherited a brothel. 

Well, at least he will have a customer who would be interested in buying his wine, even if the quality turned out to be piss-poor. 

Now both of them needed a crash course in becoming respectable business owners. Thankfully Jaskier had a dwarven friend who was happy to help turn the brothel into a tavern and cabaret. 

Jaskier dragged Geralt along to meet various alcohol vendors so that he could get a sense of what was required if he wanted to start selling wine.

One merchant sent them samples from a new manufacturer, one who was rapidly becoming quite popular due to his creative and innovative products. Geralt wasn’t all that interested in trying kombucha, but apparently it was the trendy new drink that only came from one small supplier. Jaskier pressed a glass on him, exclaiming that it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and Geralt resigned himself to the new experience.

Except, it wasn’t new. He recognized it.

“This is just fermented tea.” Geralt said.

“Yes, isn’t it delightful! Who could have thought you could ferment tea of all things?! It is so sweet with fruity undertones, oh this will be popular, I’ll have to get this on the menu. Have you ever had anything like it?” Jaskier was bubbling with excitement.

“Yes. Yes, I have.”

“What? You couldn’t have, the distillery just opened last year. I’ve heard the brewer is a genius.”

“Lambert used to make this. He’s always been the best at alchemy and he used the skills for his favourite pastime; drinking.”

Jaskier froze. He and Geralt stared at each other, connecting the dots in their heads. It was too much of a coincidance to hope, but too promising to ignore. The timing was right and Lambert would have needed some form of income if he had given up hunting monsters. Geralt remembered joking with him and Eskel that if he ever needed a new career he could sell his alcoholic concoctions and live as a rich man. Had their brother taken the joke seriously?

Tracking down the brewer was easier than expected, since he was also set up in Novigrad. Geralt took a deep breath before entering the small distillery, steeling himself for disappointment. Geralt found himself in a small waiting room with a low counter separating it from the rest of the building. He could see rows of copper vats and glassware on worktables. The building was surprisingly empty, but Geralt could hear the sounds of someone moving around out of sight.

 A bell on the counter cheerfully read “ring for service” so Geralt did. The sounds in the back abruptly stopped, and footsteps approached the counter. A familiar voice called out, “If you’re here about the job ad, the position is filled, sorry!”

And then, around the side of the vat, the brewer appeared. It was Lambert. Geralt wanted to vault the counter and hug his brother or just shake him and tell him how worried he’d been. Lambert was staring, frozen. Geralt noted his eyes were a warm, human brown and wondered what had happened.

Lambert recovered from the shock first. He folded his arms and frowned. “I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t coming back.”

“He’s alive.” Geralt blurted.

Lambert rolled his eyes. “Yes, drama queen, I’m alive. I’m doing really fucking well too, so I’d appreciate if you turned around and walked right the fuck back out of my life.”

“No, Aiden. Aiden is alive.”

Lambert’s face flashed through many emotions; shock, confusion, hurt, and settled on livid. “Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare lie about that,” he shouted. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but that’s a dirty trick, you bastard.” He turned to storm off.

Geralt realized his mistake, springing that news on his brother too suddenly. He pulled Vesemir’s last letter out of his pocket and started talking, hoping he could explain before Lambert ran again.

“Vesemir found a Witcher being tortured by mages. A Witcher who says he loves you.”

Lambert had frozen again with his back to Geralt. His shoulders were heaving.

“I wouldn’t lie about this. You know that. And you know Vesemir wouldn’t make this up either. Read the letter, Lamb.”

His brother turned, an expression of pain and grief on his face. He reached the counter and took the letter from Geralt. It was Vesemir’s account of finding the Witcher and healing his injuries. It explained why he believed the Witcher was Lambert’s Cat and said that he was planning on bringing him to the Keep to recover.

Without a word, Lambert dropped the letter on the counter and stormed out of the building. Geralt raced behind him to keep up. 

“Lambert, where are you going?”

“To get my shit together. I don’t care if the pass is closed, I’m going to see Aiden and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Geralt put a hand on his shoulders, tugging him to a stop. “I have a shortcut. If you trust me, I can get us to the Keep tomorrow.”

Lambert scowled at him, clearly conflicted. His human eyes - Geralt would have to find out what was going on there - flicked back and forth between Geralt’s slitted pupils, looking for a trick. 

“What kind of fucking short cut will get us across Kaedwen and up a mountain?” Lambert demanded. 

Geralt tugged him in the direction of the Rosemary and Thyme. “I’ll let Jaskier explain. Come on. If you don’t like it I’ll pay for all the supplies you would need to get there yourself.”

Lambert allowed himself to be pulled into the brothel, with no more than a raised eyebrow at the nature of the business. Geralt watched as Jaskier explained the plan the two of them had made in case they found Lambert before spring. 

Lambert was looking more and more tense, until he finally exploded. “You opened a fucking faerie ring to Kaer Morhen?!” 

Geralt was surprised that Lambert had such a vicious reaction. He had often heard the youngest Wolf grumbling about how much he hated the Keep. He hated how cold it was and the memories of the harsh treatment they received as children. It was why Geralt hadn’t questioned his absence for so long, he’d never made a secret about wishing he had somewhere else to be. He never expected that Lambert would be protective of the place. 

“Not directly to Kaer Morhen.” Jaskier protested. “There are wards around the area to keep us out or mages from portalling in. The snow drifts that cover the pass keep everyone from just walking up in the winter, but there is a lot of ground on the other side of the pass that is also out of range of the wards. I just made a shortcut in case we needed to get in or out of the area during the winter, it isn’t a terrible idea!”

“He locked it so that it needs both him and me to work. Not just any Fae can use it.” Geralt assured. He remembered his own reservations about allowing Jaskier to set up the faerie ring in the valley near their home. He thought Jaskier’s precautions were very clever, in spite of the dramatic flare he’d used to keep the portal locked.

“I’m not fucking complaining, am I?” Lambert snarked. “I’m just surprised Vesemir allowed it.” Geralt schooled his expression into a neutral mask and saw Jaskier looking sheepish. Lambert just rolled his eyes. “Of course you didn’t fucking tell him. Whatever. Let’s go.”

It didn’t take long to gather supplies and get ready. Geralt wrote a note to Eskel and paid a mage to send it with a spell raven. Jaskier made arrangements with Zoltan to look after the tavern while they were away. Lambert needed to pack a few belongings and tell someone to keep an eye on the vats so they wouldn’t explode.

It was a long walk out of the city to where the closest faerie ring was hidden in the woods. Geralt noticed that Lambert was agitated and impatient. He kept fidgeting with something on a chain around his neck. When Geralt looked closer, he saw that it was a silver medallion with a hissing cat embossed into it. A green amulet hung beside it, and Geralt recognized the glamour rune; Jaskier had one tattooed on his arm. 

Jaskier easily found a circle of mushrooms, untouched by the layer of snow that covered the rest of the ground. Lambert stared at it with furrowed eyebrows. He looked Geralt dead in the eye and asked, “This will get me to Aiden? You aren’t fucking with me?”

“I swear it, Lambert,” Geralt replied. 

Lambert nodded, and stepped into the circle. Geralt and Jaskier followed close on his heels. 

Chapter Text

It was surreal, stepping into Faerie. Lambert left behind the grey mid-winter slush and suddenly found himself standing in a forest at the height of spring. It was unsettlingly perfect and still. No animals rustled the leaves of the tall, perfectly shaped trees. The silence was eerie. 

Normally nothing would have gotten him to willingly walk into Faerie, but this would get him to Aiden faster. He needed to get to Aiden. He needed to see that this wasn’t some sort of sick joke. Not some sort of trap to get him to the Keep again, like a naughty child. 

Lambert was surprised by how protective he was feeling over the crumpling pile of stones at the top of the mountain. He thought that he wouldn’t care if the whole damn thing fell to ruin - hell, he sometimes pictured being the one to give it a well-aimed Aard. But hearing that any thrice damned Fae could wander in set his blood to boiling. 

But Geralt assured him it was safe, and as stupid as Geralt was, he wouldn’t trust someone with his heart unless it was painfully obvious the other person loved him back, the self-deprecating, oblivious idiot. Even though Geralt had found a lover that he trusts enough that he was willing to look past his Fae nature, Geralt valued his duty to the guild above all else. Even a lover wouldn’t be able to convince him to betray the last of the Wolf School. Geralt deserved to hold a grudge against Lambert for how he’d left him a year and a half ago, but Lambert could tell Geralt wasn’t lying about this. Lambert trusted his brother.

Also, they promised they would get him to Aiden and nothing would keep him away if there was a chance of seeing his lover again.

Geralt and Jaskier stepped through the ring behind him and Lambert noted that instead of mushrooms, the circle had turned into a small pool of water. Looking around, Lambert saw hundreds of pools scattered through the lush, green wood. 

Jaskier led them to a non-descript tree, the only thing that marked it as different from all the rest was that it didn’t have one of the portal pools at its base, just a dry dip in the ground. Jaskier placed his hand upon the tree and Geralt covered it with his own. They looked each other in the eye and then Jaskier said, “I, Julian of the Spring Court, love you, Geralt of the Wolf School.”

Geralt repeated the words, and then the two of them kissed. As soon as their lips touched, the indent at the base of the tree filled with water. 

“What the fuck is that sappy shit?” Lambert groused. 

“True love’s kiss, darling,” the Fae said with a wink and a grin. Lambert noticed that his glamour was slipping. He had too many teeth. “This way no one, not even yours truly, can use the portal unless they can honestly declare their love for a Wolf Witcher and give him true love’s kiss. It is genius! And also the kind of romance and drama I live for.”

Jaskier beckoned him through with a wiggle of his fingers, and Lambert just shook his head and grumbled under his breath about dramatic bards. 

They popped out of the faerie ring in a cave. A circle of dandelions bloomed around their feet. Lambert walked to the cave entrance and looked out to see where they were. He spotted the Keep on the opposite slope. They were on the other side of the valley which was used as their winter hunting ground. 

It was already late in the day and Geralt and Jaskier mentioned spending the night in the cave before walking through the snow covered woods. Lambert refused. He wasn’t going to waste time sleeping when Aiden was waiting for him. 

Trudging through the snow in the dark was hard work. The cold felt worse because he hadn’t had a season of slow adjustment to build his tolerance. Only decades of familiarity with the woods around Kaer Morhen allowed him to find his way in the dim forest. Geralt and Jaskier followed behind him,  neither of them offering a word of complaint which Lambert realized meant they knew how important this was. 

Dawn was breaking when they passed into the Keep’s wards. Vesemir would be able to tell someone was coming, but not who. It would be a surprise for the old bastard to see them so late in the season. 

Lambert rounded the last curve of the trail and knew he was in sight of the gates. He looked up, scanning for signs of life. He only went a few more steps before the gates burst open and a figure flew towards him. As soon as he recognized it he started to sprint up the trail. It didn’t matter how cold, or hungry, or tired he was. Aiden really was alive. 

They slammed together, tackling each other to the ground. Lambert was openly crying. He buried his face in Aiden’s shoulder and placed a possessive hand on the back of his lover’s head. Aiden was holding him just as tightly whispering words of love into Lambert’s ear. 

The bard was quietly cooing at them, even as Geralt tugged him towards the gate, but all Lambert was interested in listening to was Aiden's slow heartbeat. 

He finally pulled back, but only so he could cradle Aiden's face in his hands and just look at his lover. He drank in the features he thought he would never see again. 

There was an eye patch covering Aiden's left eye, and Lambert reverently traced the scar that extended down his cheek. "What happened to your eye, Kitty?"

Aiden snorted and brought his hand up to trace along Lambert's cheekbone. "Crossbow. What happened to yours?"

Lambert blushed. He had forgotten that he was wearing the amulet that made him look human. He pulled the small jade trinket out from where it hung around his neck and explained, "Got this from your friend Jad after I killed him. Didn't want anyone to know I was a Witcher. Figured if that sick fuck could be a merchant, so could I." Lambert took it off and put it in his pocket. He didn't need it here.

Aiden smiled, but there were tears in his uncovered eye. "There you are. Fuck, Lamb, I thought I'd never see you again."

Lambert tugged him close and kissed him. He pulled back just enough to growl, "I'm here now, I'm here, and I'm never letting you go again."

They kissed again, long and slow. Lambert was crying into the kiss. He had thought that he'd lost this forever.

After a long moment, Aiden pulled back, but he didn't let go of Lambert. "I'm cold, darling,” he whispered. “Let's go do this inside."

Lambert stood and tugged Aiden up and curled an arm around his waist. They walked into the Keep together, so differently than how Lambert had pictured before Aiden went missing. The other Witchers all hovered in the entrance hall. Geralt and Jaskier were smiling, but Vesemir was there looking as grave as ever. 

The former fencing master stepped forwards and began to say, “Lambert, I’m glad to see you -”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Lambert snarled. He tugged Aiden closer to him and pushed past the welcoming committee to go directly to his room. He could tell from Aiden’s scent in the room that this is where he’d been staying. When they finally separated enough to remove their outer layers, Lambert saw that Aiden was wearing his clothes too, but the Cat had lost so much weight that he was swimming in them. 

The two of them curled up in bed together and murmured words of love and reassurance to each other. They talked about the things that happened while they were apart, the things they were ready to tell. Lambert suspected that Aiden was keeping the worst of it bottled up, but that was okay. Some things needed time, and they would have that time together.

Lambert would have wanted to stay in his room forever, but around midday he began to feel hungry and he knew Aiden would be too. Alone he would have ignored it - he hadn’t been taking very good care of himself lately - but Aiden needed to eat to build up his strength again. 

Before they left Lambert’s room, Aiden put a hand on his arm to stop him. He took a deep breath and said, “I know you’re still mad and hurt at Vesemir, but he took really good care of me and he realized that he was being a dick to you, so maybe don’t bite his head off?”

Lambert frowned. Just thinking about facing Vesemir again was making his skin crawl and his rage threatened to boil over. Aiden knew how he felt about Vesemir, but Lambert still trusted Aiden. Aiden never stopped him from raging when he knew it was justified, but he did keep Lambert in check when his anger would only hurt people, especially if he was likely to hurt himself. 

Aiden had spent years learning to control his own temper. He had all kinds of tips and techniques to keep himself calm and de-escalate bad situations when the other Cats were working themselves up to a blood rage. He’d been teaching Lambert too, although Lambert hadn’t yet reached Aiden’s level of practiced calm. At least when anyone but Aiden was involved.

Lambert took Aiden’s hands and pressed their foreheads together. One of the things Aiden always insisted on was honestly but calmly explaining what was bothering him. "He treated me like shit for years and I'm just supposed to forgive him because he didn't literally leave you to fucking die?"

“I know Lamb, but he wants to do better. Things aren’t fixed yet, but they could be. I don’t want to see you carry a grudge around the way he did and end up hurting yourself and your family. You don’t have to forgive him until he proves that he’s earned it, but give him a chance to prove that he’s changed. Just don’t make the hurt worse, that’s all I’m asking.”

Lambert dropped his head to Aiden’s shoulder. He thought about all the venom he’d been carrying in his memories of Vesemir and Kaer Morhen, all the self-righteous fury that had burned in his chest for years. But he swallowed that down and tried to remember the good times, times where Vesemir was there with his steady reassurances and quiet kindness. He had to acknowledge that things hadn’t been all bad between them, and part of the reason why the old Wolf’s rejection hurt so much was because Lambert did care about what he thought. 

Maybe it was time to let go of the pain. He could at least meet Vesemir halfway. Aiden was right, he didn’t need to lash out and make things worse. Not unless Vesemir started it.

Eating in the warm kitchen was surreal. It had been so long since he was last here and Lambert hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it, and missed catching up with his family. But now he was here again. Aiden and Jaskier joining them meant that things weren’t quite the same as they were, and Eskel was missing, but it was surprising how normal it felt to be back. Lambert finally let himself admit how much he missed being here, and with Eskel’s absence he remembered how much he missed his oldest brother. 

It could have been tense, with how fragile things were between them, but Geralt’s bard chattered away as if this was a normal meal. Apparently he and Geralt had both acquired businesses, a tavern and a Toussaintois vineyard, and were planning on making a go of running them. Lambert brought up his distillery, the struggle of getting it off the ground and the plans he had for its future. 

Vesemir listened in silence until Lambert was finished, and then he said, “It sounds like these endeavors will take time and care. I’m glad the three of you have found places to settle in the world, but these businesses will make it difficult to return here in the winter.”

If Vesemir thought that Lambert would give up his business just to come back here, he had another thing coming. Starting the distillery had been the only thing that kept him from going feral after he thought that Aiden had been avenged. He didn't think he could have ever been truly happy without his partner, but producing and selling his own liquor and getting praised for his skill gave him more satisfaction than working as a Witcher ever did. He might miss the Keep and his family, but he wasn't going to give up his true calling to rot in Kaer Morhen for months. Lambert had learned how to survive without it. 

Geralt, always a suck up, seemed to think differently.

“We can find a way,” Geralt replied, “We can find people to look after them. My friend Regis is at the vineyard now, we could find a way so that we could come home.”

Vesemir shook his head. “You misunderstand me. I’ve been thinking that it may be time to move on from Kaer Morhen and the ghosts that live here. Lambert has shown that we can survive in the world without hiding ourselves away each winter. The world is changing, perhaps it is time to move with it. The hatred that caused the pogroms is waning now that more non-humans are moving into the cities. Familiarity leads to tolerance. The Wolf School is no more, I think it is time to leave the castle to the rats. Lambert was right about them too, they have gotten too bold.”

Lambert sat in stunned silence. The Keep was a constant in his mind. Even when he wasn’t there, he knew that it stood strong and protected his family. His roots were here, as much as he would never have admitted that before Aiden had disappeared. 

But Vesemir had also said that he agreed with Lambert. He had thought Vesemir would cling to this castle until every last stone fell around his ears. And here he was acknowledging that Lambert had done well for himself in the world and could be used as an example for the others. That didn’t fit at all with what Lambert was expecting from Vesemir. He felt a lot of conflicting emotions fighting for dominance, and wanted to snap out something rude to give himself some space. Instead, Aiden took his hand and gave him a proud smile and Lambert let himself lean on Aiden. Vesemir was extending an olive branch, Lambert didn’t have to slap it out of his hand.

Jaskier broke the silence. “The Wolf School is more than a fortress in the mountains. It is the people. This place will always be here, the wards and the land will protect it from outsiders, and the stone is strong enough to stand for a long time to come, you will always be able to return here if the need arises. But you do not need this place to be your only home. You are always welcome to make your home with me at the Rosemary, I will always have a place for you. I imagine Geralt will extend the same offer at Corvo Bianco.” Geralt nodded his agreement. “And this way we’ll be a lot easier to track down and send messages to.”

“We’ll have to discuss this more with Eskel in the spring,” Vesemir declared, “and there will be much to do if that is what we decide. For now we can think about what we want from our lives. I think it is long past time that we allowed ourselves to choose our own futures.”

•················•·················•

Vesemir found Lambert alone in the kitchen the next morning. Aiden wasn’t able to get out of bed, he explained that at times his injuries still bothered him, so Lambert was gathering food for the both of them. 

The old Wolf entered on silent feet and leaned against the table for a moment, watching Lambert work. Lambert tried not to let it bother him, but he was unsure what to expect from Vesemir now.

He almost dropped the tray of food when Vesemir said, “I wanted to apologize.”

Lambert gripped the sides of the tray tight enough for his knuckles to turn white and he couldn’t meet his mentor’s eyes, but he didn’t snark back and he didn’t leave.

“It was wrong of me to treat you like that; like your opinion and your happiness didn’t matter. I was blinded by my own prejudice and I hurt you. And it wasn’t the first time. I’ve been treating you badly simply because you fought back. I think I treated Eskel and Geralt badly too, but they accepted it and it never escalated with them the way it did with you, but I think instead they learned not to stand up for themselves and to accept abuse from others. I hurt all of you so badly, and I don’t know what I can do to make up for it, but I would like to try.”

Lambert jerked his head in a nod, but he didn’t say anything. There were a million replies that sprang into his mind, but he remembered Aiden’s advice and let the knee jerk reaction pass over him without spilling out of his mouth. The first things he thought were always meant to push people away to protect himself, whether he meant them to or not. It had caused many fights with Aiden when they had first gotten together, and if it wasn’t for Aiden’s carefully cultivated patience, they would never have been able to work things out between them. Aiden had forgiven him for his thoughtless words over and over again because he saw a relationship worth fighting for. If Aiden could do it for him, Lambert could try for Vesemir.

But he was still too upset to say anything that wouldn’t be full of venom, so he just walked away. Maybe it wasn’t the right response, but it was better than starting an argument when Vesemir was clearly trying to fix things. That had to be enough for now. 

They only stayed in the Keep for a week. Lambert, Geralt, and Jaskier all had responsibilities they couldn’t ignore for the rest of the season, and Aiden was healed enough to travel and was happy to get away from the biting cold in the mountains. Vesemir decided to come with them, taking the first step in abandoning the safety of Kaer Morhen. He didn’t even criticize the Faerie ring built so close to the Keep. 

Jaskier offered to host the group of Witchers at the Rosemary and Thyme, which had many comfortable beds available. Vesemir agreed to stay at the newly converted tavern, but Lambert declined, since he had his own rooms in Novigrad with enough space to share with Aiden. They agreed to eat a meal together first since Lambert would need to stock up on food after his unexpected absence. 

When they arrived at the tavern, Lambert was immediately tackled into a crushing hug. Eskel’s familiar arms tightened around him and Lambert squeezed back, a little dazed. 

“Fuck, Lambert. I missed you. Are you alright? I’m so sorry Lamb, I always wanted you to come back. You were always welcome and I’m sorry you ever thought otherwise.”

“Hey now,” Lambert said. He patted Eskel’s broad back reassuringly. “I’m fine, I’m here. It’s okay.”

Eskel pulled back just enough to knock their foreheads together. “Don’t do that again,” he scolded, “I’ve been worried sick.”

“Don’t give me a reason to,” Lambert retorted. The emotional scene was putting him off balance so he resorted to his default grouchiness. He had spent years imagining that the other Wolves didn’t want to see him. Eskel’s reaction reminded him that his brothers did care about him. He felt a bit bad for avoiding them, even though at the time he thought they were avoiding him too. He never pictured them missing him as much as he missed them. Geralt and Vesemir hadn’t been this demonstrative, the stoic fuckers, but Eskel was better at showing his feelings. 

Eskel finally let him go. Lambert watched as his oldest brother took in the other members of their group. He offered a hand to the face he wouldn’t recognize and said, “You must be Aiden. I’m sorry it took so long for us to finally meet.”

Aiden hesitantly took Eskel’s hand and then squeaked as Eskel pulled him into a tight hug too. When Eskel let him go Aiden was blushing. Lambert threw an arm over his shoulder and tugged him close to ground him. Eskel’s hugs were overwhelming even when you were expecting it. And maybe he still needed the reassurance that Aiden was really there.

Eskel greeted Vesemir next, and Lambert couldn’t help but notice that there was a bit of tension there. He wondered what he had missed between the two of them.

Geralt stepped forward for his own Eskel-hug, only to be stopped when Eskel held out a piece of paper and demanded, “What the fuck is this, Wolf?”

Geralt took the paper and opened it. Lambert and Jaskier glanced over his shoulders to read the letter.

Eskel,

Found him in Novigrad. Bringing him to the Keep, Jaskier has a way. Meet in Novigrad? Rosemary and Thyme.

- Geralt

Jaskier pressed a palm to his forehead and moaned, “Seriously, love? You find your long lost brother after years of searching and this is the letter you write to tell the other people searching for him that he’s safe?”

“It said everything it needed to!” Geralt protested.

“No it didn’t!” Both Eskel and Jaskier lamented together. The two of them shared a long-suffering glance. 

“It’s a long story, Eskel dear,” Jaskier said. “Let's get some drinks and sit down and we’ll all catch up.”

The group raided the bar and retreated to one of the private rooms on the ground floor. They talked until late at night. They told Eskel about the decision to abandon the Keep. He was silent for a long time but eventually agreed it was for the best. 

It was early in the morning when Lambert and Aiden finally stumbled back to Lambert’s rented row house. They set their bags down in the bedroom and Lambert wound his arms around Aiden’s waist to kiss him slowly and deeply. When they broke apart Lambert whispered, “Welcome home, Kitty.”

•················•·················•

Epilogue

Life with Aiden in Novigrad was much the same as it had been when Lambert thought Aiden was dead. It was better - sweet Melelite, was it better - but the routine didn’t change much. Lambert’s distillery grew more and more successful over the years. He produced a variety of interesting drinks that were popular with snobby rich clientele so Lambert was able to buy all the equipment he could handle and hire workers to run it. Aiden joined the business as his chief salesman. He gave his partner the enchanted amulet that disguised his remaining eye and sat back as Aiden charmed the gold right out of the pockets of nobles and merchants alike. 

Jaskier’s tavern, renamed the Chameleon, was a steady customer, even if he did get the friends and family discount. The Fae didn’t have much to do with the everyday running of the tavern, that was left to Zoltan the dwarf, but he did pop in and out when he wasn’t working or performing at the school in Oxenfurt or pestering Geralt in Toussaint. 

Geralt’s vineyard was thriving. It took a few years for the neglected vines to produce enough wine to sell commercially, but now it had a reputation for quality grapes. He had a skilled majordomo to do most of the work on the land, which left Geralt to focus on sticking his nose into politics or whatever it was he did when he was left unsupervised. Lambert and Aiden would visit him in the winter when the weather made Novigrad unbearable. There was less work for Geralt in the winter, and the Toussaintois climate didn’t aggravate Aiden’s injuries. Vesemir and Eskel would join them too, and Corvo Bianco became a second home for the Wolf School. 

Eskel founded a library in Kaedwen with a Griffin Witcher he’d befriended on a contract. The two of them spent years recovering the libraries at Kaer Morhen and Kaer Seren. Coën, the Griffin, had been conflicted about allowing people to access the recovered books, since his school had been buried in an avalanche by mages when the Griffin school refused to share the knowledge, but he and Eskel worked out a way to ensure that the dangerous books were kept away from power hungry mages and nobles. Their library became a centre for research on monsters and nobility from barons to kings would send their best soldiers there to learn how to protect their people. 

For the monsters that were too dangerous for human soldiers to fight, people would contact Vesemir to hire a Witcher. The old Wolf had spent years meeting with monarchs to arrange a system where any small town could report a problem to their local landowner who would then contact Vesemir. From there, Vesemir would alert the nearest Witcher or go himself to deal with the trouble. His network grew to include members of all the schools, including - reluctantly - some Cats. The Witchers joined Vesemir’s guild because his arrangements with the Kings and Queens of the continent meant there was standard pay and access to help and resources if they needed it. They enjoyed more safety and protection than ever before, and slowly the prejudice against Witchers faded entirely. 

Lambert and Vesemir reconciled. With Aiden’s help, the two of them were able to clear the air and finally start to heal their relationship. Lambert acknowledged that his temper was partially to blame for their fights and Vesemir learned to treat his former students with more kindness and respect. They learned to communicate with each other and finally grew trust between them. Things weren’t perfect, there were still times when they fought and snapped at each other, but now they could walk away and calm down before saying anything hurtful.

Life was good. It was good for Lambert and for his family. 

And every night, Lambert would go home with Aiden and hold his lover in his arms. He would treasure the relationships he had, because he knew what it was like to lose them and he never wanted to be alone again.