artistsfuneral

"Fucking, move over, it's too hot!" Lambert grumbled and pushed Aiden away to his own bedroll. Even at night it was unbearably hot, the air heavy with humidity. For a long moment their camp was silent, then Aiden shuffled around and turned towards him. "Hey, Lambert," his voice sounded smaller than usual, "I can't sleep without you anymore." Lambert let out a sigh and turned his head. "Yeah.... Me neither." Their hands found each other, fingers intertwined, connected.

some self indulgent, pre-relationship Lambert/fem!or t!Reader/Aiden, very slightly nsfw

After months of careful consideration and many, many thoughts that loudly fought each other inside your head, you finally came to the long overdue conclusion, that a witcher's general lacking of any form of modesty was indeed a bad, not good, very terribly thing.

Said conclusion was made by you with a deep frown on your face that had your eyebrows knitted together in a disgruntled, tight line. You didn't like your own conclusion - for obvious reasons. Because, when you first started to travel with Aiden and Lambert their tendency towards casual nudism had seemed like a fantastic bonus. Who wouldn't like ogling a pair of extremely handsome men on a regular, almost daily basis? You certainly did enjoy it in the beginning.

Their total disregard for bodily shame used to be refreshing. Even now, play-fighting in the shallow waters of a creek they didn't wear a single piece of clothing, despite the fact that the small stream barely reached their knees and you were sitting only a couple of meters away, watching them. Their cocks were out in the open, dangling around in the air like fish on a hook. Floppy yet somehow lively.

The problem? You were pretty damn sure those two fish were swimming in the same pond - so to speak. Which was fine, absolutely and totally fine with you. Except for the tiny fact that you wanted to take a dip as well, but neither were you a fish, nor did you know if dropping your... turtle into a fish pond wasn't a terribly rude thing to do. Of course, you could just them about their turtle policies, but if they swam in a fish-only pond, things between the three of you would turn incredibly awkward incredibly quick. Which would mean your inevitable departure. And you. Did not. Want to leave.

In the short time you've known them, they'd wormed their way into your heart like no one had ever done before. Aiden and Lambert meant way too much to you to fuck this up.

Besides, with them being so open about these sort of things, shouldn't they be the ones to express their interest in a turtle dipping its feet into their pond? The fact that they didn't - show any interest at all - was obviously a bad sign. A very big, bold-lettered sign that said "No Turtles Allowed".

So. No fish for you, even if it was dangling right in front of you. Literally. Both witchers had apparently stopped their squabble and interpreted the frown on your face as an invitation to come over. "What are you moping over?" Aiden asked, making you curse their ability to always detect your lies. So you answered truthfully, "Turtles," and watched the confusion spread across their faces with slight satisfaction.

I keep thinking about courting jewelry and how Aiden wouldn't be able to look at Lambert's bare hands so one day he just takes the wolf's hands into his and shares some of his favorite rings with Lambert and then makes him promise not to lose them because they mean a lot to Aiden (so Lambert now needs to accept them :) ) and how that sharing of jewelry would turn into soft hand kisses would turn into even softer face kisses..... *swoon*

But I really need a story where Aiden is older.

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.8

this turned out longer than expected so most of it, the fanart and the vote are under the read more so people don't have to scroll past this for 5min

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It was good that Cat Witchers were already considered a bunch of madmen, otherwise Aiden would've started to worry for his sanity as he watched Jaskier's blue eyes light up with joy. “Good, because I have already named them!” Of course he had.

Following the bard on wobbly legs to where the four horses grazed, Aiden almost forgot about all that had happened a couple of hours prior. Then he accidentally kicked his foot against a stray helmet and the clattering sound of metal reminded him of the fresh cuts across his chest and the awful ache in both his shoulders and he couldn't help but to stare at the back of the bard's head, wondering what exactly a protector was.

But then Jaskier turned and smiled at Aiden with such incredible warmth that his heart fluttered inside his chest and he found himself mimicking the smile without the all too familiar voice inside his head telling him, warning him not to and he suddenly understood that despite it all, despite the horrors of having seen what Jaskier could do if angered, despite not knowing and therefore not understanding how or what or why Jaskier was who he was- Aiden wasn't afraid of him. Aiden trusted him. Aiden, who – much like any other witcher – from the very first day of his training had been taught, no, had been drilled to never trust anyone on the path that wasn't one of his own brothers. He knew of the world's cruelty, had learned first hand not to seek comfort and friendship where he wouldn't find it, but Jaskier- Jaskier was different. How long had they been traveling together? A month? A month was a time hardly worth mentioning, passing in the blink of an eye for someone who would possibly live up to three, maybe four hundred years or longer. Sure, Aiden was on the younger side of the Cat school, only having followed the Call of the Path for around sixty or seventy years, but even compared to that a month was nothing. And yet-

“Are you alright, sunshine? Are you in pain? Should you have rested more before getting up? We can take it slow, you know, no pressure.”

Aiden chuckled, “I'm fine, Jask, no need to worry. Simply got lost in my thoughts for a moment.” Not so easily persuaded, the bard gave him a look that was eerily similar to Lambert's 'don't bullshit me' face. Thankfully Aiden knew how to deal with that. “You said you already have names for the horses?” Success. Jaskier's face lit up again and he took hold of Aiden's hand to gently pull the witcher along. “I have! Or at least for three of them, I'm not quite sure what to name the fourth one, but I still want to introduce you to them!”

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p. 7

(There's coloring pages for this fic in my ko-fi shop now!)

Jaskier sighed, his face softening. “I am your friend, Aiden. I know we haven't been traveling together for long, so it might not mean that much to you yet, but I am your friend and I protect my friends, Aiden. That's the only important thing right now.” The Cat stared at him with a horrified frown on his pretty face. But unable to accept the bard's sketchy reply, he started to argue, “That is not an answer! Look at you, fucking- look at what you've done! I have never met any creature with such destructive power!”

“I am not a monster, Aiden!” Jaskier gasped, suddenly feeling just as frightened as the witcher in front of him. “I'm not some creature from your bestiary that you're hired to kill because I go about eating children for breakfast!”

Almost immediately after realizing the words that had left his mouth, Aiden wanted to apologize for them. Just how many times had he been on the other end of this exact same conversation? How many times did he have to justify his mere existence, simply because he was a witcher, a Cat Witcher of all things? How many times had people turned on him after they'd seen him fight, after they'd seen him fall into a haze of blood lust? How many times had friends betrayed him before?

And what kind of monster had tears in their eyes after being accused of such things? Aiden felt like an awful person. “I- I'm sorry, Jaskier, you're right, it's just-” he couldn't help but to take a glance at their surroundings; the destruction and chaos left behind. Next to him Jaskier sniffled and willed his tears away. “I know. It can be a lot, I'm sorry if I scared you, sunshine, but I promise- I would never hurt you. I'm a protector, not a fighter.” Aiden sighed before rubbing at his tired eye to further ease the stinging. “Alright, dandelion, I will trust you to protect me then,” he said, certainly not expecting Jaskier to fall around his neck and hug him tightly. “Thank you.”

Later, Aiden watched with a mix of apprehension and curios fascination as the bard walked around the soldiers' campsite and cleaned up a big portion of the mess he had made, to prevent attracting necrophages and the like. The Cat was entirely intrigued by the fact that Jaskier, who was more than a head smaller than him and had the slim physique one would expect from a traveling bard, seemed to posses the strength of a full grown, healthy witcher. Though, he wouldn't doubt Jaskier being even stronger than that. “Can you carry a horse?” Aiden blurted out, without really thinking about it too much. The bard froze on the spot, both hands full of several heavy metal pieces that were part of the redanian armor. He looked at Aiden, then at the four horses that were now calmly resting a bit further away from their initial spot, then back at Aiden. “Why would I carry a horse?”

The witcher snorted, “It's not about the why, it's about the ifs and coulds.” Jaskier blinked at him once, twice, before shaking his head and returning to his task. “If I ever feel the desire to carry a horse around for fun, you will be the first to know.”

“That's all I ask for,” Aiden grinned, for now satisfied with simply watching Jaskier flutter around the camp like a little bird. Every now and then the bard would find something worthwhile and place it either near their packs or right into Aiden's lap, like the sword he had mentioned earlier, a new, clean tunic, or a pair of sturdy leather boots that fit him surprisingly well. It didn't take long until the bard had them both cleaned up and wearing two new outfits. Although Aiden wasn't exactly comfortable with the distinctive lack of armor, the bard was quick to reassure him that that was taken care of as well, he just wanted Aiden's injuries to fully heal this time around, before making him carry any extra weight. Which made sense, even if it left Aiden feeling weirdly exposed.

Not that Jaskier was looking any different. Somehow the bard was wearing even less than him. Whereas Aiden's short sleeved honey colored tunic could still be worn in town without leading to some sort of kerfuffle caused by public indecency, Jaskier had somehow managed to squeeze himself in a sleeveless, skin tight garment that would have Aiden drooling, had it been his lover Lambert in front of him. Though, he admitted he had stared at Jaskier for quite a bit, when the bard had walked back towards his resting place. When he asked the bard about it, Jaskier proudly declared that it was his own design. Of course it was, Aiden thought with fond exasperation.

“Now, I don't think you'll object to us heading further east into the forest before we make camp, given the whole,” Jaskier waved his hands in a way that indicated the entirety of their surroundings, “situation.” Aiden chuckled, “Can't say I'm fond of the idea of cuddling.”

“Oh gods, no,” the bard shuddered before extending his hand to help Aiden up. He accepted without hesitating. “Alright then, now we just have to decide which horses we will take with us.”

Jaskier gasped, looking at the witcher in shock. “Which ones? Aiden, no.”

Somehow the witcher had a bad feeling about this.

“Aiden, they're friends. We can't separate friends, that would be cruel.”

“You can't be serious about this.”

“They'd make a nice present for Vesemir, don't you think?”

“Jaskier.”

or: how many horses will the author have to draw? (why am I doing this again😳)

please like and reblog if you voted

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(this contains graphic description of violence and is absolutely skippable if that's not your thing!)

the VOTE and FANART are UNDER the cut because of this

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The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.6

“Gentlemen,” he greeted the soldiers with a face-splitting grin and a courtly bow of his head. “It appears, there has been a misunderstanding.” The men stared at him, unmoving, tense. Behind them Aiden was still caught in his rage, not able to recognize Jaskier by his scent or sound anymore. “Why don't we all just sit down and talk about this like civilized people? I'm sure we can find some common ground.”

The bard's smile never wavering, he took a step forward only for the five soldiers to draw their swords at him. Steel for humans, Geralt's voice echoed in his thoughts as if any of that mattered. Silver had never stopped Jaskier before. Holding his hands up in what he knew was commonly understood as a surrendering gesture, he cocked his head to the side, watching as the archer reached behind his back for his bow. “How about some tea? I have this lovely mixture of zerrikanian spices that goes great with the apples you can buy around here. Oh, that reminds me! I wanted to keep some for apple cakes! Which would mean we can't use all of the tea, but surely some of you would prefer chamomile anyways, there's always one person that-”

“Shut the fuck up!”

Jaskier's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of his teeth. His initial smile had fallen off his lips as he stared at the man that had interrupted him with pure bewilderment. “Well that was incredibly rude. You are not getting any tea from me now.”

“I told you to shut the fuck up!” The same soldier as before yelled at him, spitting towards Jaskier's boots as he did so. The bard pulled a face in disgust.

“In the name of the crown of Redania, you are under arrest to be executed in the capitol!”

The forest was quiet around them, silent except for the wind in the trees and the metallic sound of the redanian soldiers readying themselves to arrest him.

The bard stared at them unblinking.

“Drop to your knees, this instance!” another soldier ordered harshly.

Jaskier's head fell back as he started to cackle loudly. The sound coming from deep inside his chest and forcing way through his throat like creature of its own.

“I don't think so, darling.”

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.5

(canon typical violence below, mild)

Jaskier's breath caught in his throat and made him stumble. Unable to intervene he had to watch Aiden cast the familiar blue shock wave at the group of soldiers behind them. At once the men in front were thrown back, crashing into their fellow soldiers and creating a loud ruckus that made Jaskier's ears ring. Wind caught his hair, blinding him momentarily, as he cursed Aiden for his stupidity.

While the burst of Aard had certainly helped them to gain some distance from the soldiers, they could just have split up earlier than planned, to achieve the exact same thing. It took the soldiers hardly a minute before they were up and running again, this time yelling orders at each other about Aiden not being the White Wolf, but another witcher and therefore their new priority. Aiden who, despite him insisting on the opposite, was not yet fully recovered and still struggled with both his balance and restricted vision. Him being their primary target was a very bad, not good thing that would definitely lead to some unavoidable consequences. Jaskier cursed again, grabbed the witcher by his knotted sleeve and tucked him forcefully to the left, where the street parted into a busy crossroad. “Why on earth would you do that?!” He demanded to know, dodging a farmer's cart by a hair's length and pulling Aiden with him. The Cat could only look at him bewildered, Jaskier's worries completely flying past his head.

With a loud groan, the bard realized that Aiden, like every other damned witcher he had met before, had absolutely no sense for protecting himself. Jaskier had no idea, why he had thought otherwise in the first place. In that regard they all proved to be idiots again and again.

Finally reaching the market after what felt like forever, Jaskier zigzagged through the groups of people until he couldn't see the soldiers anymore. “Alright, we're splitting up now. You're of greater importance to them, because those prejudiced piss pots think you are stronger than me.” Aiden raised his eyebrows at that, but Jaskier didn't give him time to argue. “So don't get caught, alright? Be as inconspicuous as possible, disguise yourself if you can. I mean it, Aiden, I am not walking up that mountain on my own, because I will perish of boredom if you're not with me.”

“Whoa, there, shouldn't I be the one that worries about you?” The witcher asked, with a lopsided grin on his face. “You are a tiny, little human, after all.” Jaskier took a deep breath and let the imaginary weight fall off his shoulders. He knew he tended to be overprotective over his friends and family, but Aiden was right, he shouldn't worry too much about the other man. Cats were known for their excellent stealth. He'd probably scale the next building and hide away in the shadows of the rooftops until it was time for the two of them to meet at the other side of the city, were it adjoined the forest.

Feeling a little better about their situation, he grinned back at the witcher, “See you at sun-high.” And with one last wave, he dove into the crowds.

From then on everything felt a little bit easier. He was back in his element. Passing errand boys, dodging groups of chattering wives and stepping out of the way of heavily laden errand boys, Jaskier easily put more and more distance between him in the troop of soldiers, who's redanian armor made them stand out like donkeys among sheep. It was actually quite funny to watch them, how they stumbled around, fishing for some sort of authority the didn't have in a country that wasn't theirs. A troop of redanian soldiers against a single kaedweni innkeeper was one thing, but seeing them trying and failing to shoo away the three old women that were gossiping in front of a young lad that looked somewhat similar to Jaskier was the height of entertainment.

Despite his colorful outfit and obvious lute bag, hardly anyone spared him more than a glance. No matter what Geralt said, walking through a city with just enough confidence to look like you belonged there, but not too much to stand out, was an art form in itself. Truth be told, Jaskier might've only believed so because it took him years to perfect this skill. He was an expert in it now, though and when one of his pursuers came a bit too close to him, he calmly kept on walking, passing the man with just two other people between them. He followed the natural flow of people for a while, discreetly taking down every Wanted Notice with his name on it. Every now and then he tried to look up the rafters and roofs of houses that seemed rather climbable, without appearing too suspicious, but he never saw a hint of his Cat.

Maybe that was for the better, he willed his anxiousness to quieten. If he wasn't here, that only meant that he was already waiting somewhere in the forest. Sun-high wasn't that far away anyways.

He helped a young mother by picking up the knot doll her child had dropped and exchanged a couple of pleasant words while they walked closer towards the forest. Saying his goodbyes with a warm smile, Jaskier stepped off the main street and into a much smaller alley that lead to a few single story houses. He took his time to pet a tricolored barn cat, just as promised, before slowly but surely merging into the slim shadows. More and more aware of his bearings, he crept along the walls of houses and sheds, turning around and pretending to take a piss against a bush when a merchant rode by. Crude but effective. The only thing left that separated him from his goal was a wide dirt rode that carved around the forest.

Standing in the shade of a wooden canopy Jaskier remained still as a statue, eyes scanning through the underbrush, ears strained for any noise that didn't belong. The problem with that being, that everything inside a forest made noise and trying to figure out which once were normal sounds and which weren't usually fell into Geralt's domain. With his witcher hearing he could not only make out a rustling bush, but also listen for a heartbeat and identify it as either animal, human or monster. There was also the fact that Jaskier's sense of smell couldn't pick up anything than the stink of fox and the giant dung heap nearby.

In the end he just had to trust his instincts. And his instincts were telling him to worry.

It didn't take long for him to realize why.

It wasn't the forest that was off, it was the road. The sun was high in the sky, just starting to change from comfortably warm to hot, the market was full with all kinds of people and yet the road was empty. No wagons, no riders, not a single person to be seen. Someone was blocking off the path. Someone that held no authority over a crowd but could easily scare away any passerby. It could be a trap of course, but Jaskier had spent enough time singing in the barracks of Redania to know how they usually operated. The bard had always had a strong dislike for soldiers. Few of them were decent people these days. There was hardly anything knightly or chivalrous about them, as if they forgot what they were fighting for. Unlike them, Jaskier hadn't allowed himself to be controlled by his disdain and had followed his orders properly. Singing and performing in the barracks, listening in to every conversation that would meet his ears. He had learned a lot, almost too much, about how the soldiers really worked behind their pretenses. Cordoning off an area just big enough people on the outside wouldn't make out the noise their prisoners made when they were beat to a pulp, was certainly one of their favorites. There was an advantage though, Jaskier thought as he emerged from the canopy and walked right into the forest, nobody would be able to hear them screaming either. The only thing that kept him from smiling was the knowledge that whatever they had done to his Cat Witcher wouldn't be pretty.

And it really wasn't.

The camp, counting six tents and four horses, was built around an old tree, its trunk wide enough to withstand the hissing and spitting Cat Witcher that was chained to it. His linen shirt was torn during a fight, deep irregular gashes cut through his chest, the witcher's blood soaking into his clothes and the bandages underneath. Aiden was screaming with rage, struggling against his bindings without any sense to it, throwing his head from left to right, snapping his teeth at everyone that dared to come too close. His fangs were bloody, successful. To Jaskier's eyes it was almost alarmingly obvious that Aiden's aggression was mainly caused by pure fear and pain. The witcher's instincts had clearly taken over. He didn't even react to the bard when said one entered the camp. Five soldiers, one archer, turned towards him.

Oh I know. I know you want Jaskier to fight, but please take note, should you choose this, the next chapter will be detailed and violent. (and 100% skipable of course! I know not everyone likes to read that sort of stuff, don't worry, I got you!) The author craves blood.

Negotiating is always an option to keep this pg.

Also there's now a relationship bar in the drawing, so: Aiden/Lambert is set in stone for this fic, but Aiden/Jaskier or Aiden/Jaskier/Lambert is up to you, I will give you multiple chances for this, so don't worry.

please like and reblog if you voted✨🌿🌼✨

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.4

Jaskier's heart was hammering inside his chest. He knew that Aiden could hear it clear as day and wondered if his own heartbeat quickened Aiden's as well. Outside the voices grew louder, angrier. Jaskier bit his lip.

“Alright, fine! We'll do it your way,” the bard hissed through gritted teeth, “Just- let's hurry, please.” Aiden nodded at him encouragingly. “Of course. Thanks for trusting me, Jaskier.”

With their minds set on the same goal, Jaskier and Aiden stood in unison and opened the door that separated their bedroom from the long hallway that let to both the stairs and a single open window. Training his ears on the downstairs commotion, Aiden stepped out first, Jaskier close behind him clutching the handle of his short sword. They made it just past the stairwell when the door to the inn burst open and the telltale sound of heavily armored men echoed up to them. Unable to help himself the Cat Witcher turned around and made a 'I-told-you-so' face at Jaskier, who rolled his eyes and ushered him along.

Once they made it to the window it was clear from the sounds that the redanian soldiers were forcing their way into every single room of the inn, scaring the guests and servants.

“I'll go first,” Aiden said, already shoving his pack through the wooden frame and onto the withered roofing. “Throw me your things, then I can catch you easier when it's your turn.” He sighed with annoyance when he saw the dubious look on Jaskier's face. “I'm a Cat, I've been catching people ever since I could lift them.” It wasn't as reassuring as Aiden may have thought. Jaskier told him exactly that while he watched Aiden gracefully climb through the window.

“I am lacking the entire context for this to make any sense at all!”

Aiden gave him a look Jaskier couldn't read. “Cats, among other things, specialize in balance and climbing. From a very young age we balance on everything, everywhere. If you're not caught by someone you'd easily break something. Which obviously nobody wants to happen, so every Cat gets very good at catching people. It's only natural.”

It kind of made sense, Jaskier thought as he took notice how Aiden climbed down the roof in three moves, unknowingly making any of Jaskier's previous window escapes look pathetic. Granted, he wasn't wearing pants during half of them, but Aiden had that natural elegance to him that the bard envied. Still he winced, when it was his time to drop his things down the roof and he had to let go of his lute case.

Aiden caught it easily and placed it on the ground much more carefully than Geralt ever would have. Then Jaskier stood at the edge of the wonky roof and stared into the witcher's ember eye. “Come on, Jaskier. If I can catch three trainees at once, I can catch one silly bard.” Jaskier was up and about to argue that he was in fact not a silly bard but an amazing artist and should therefore be treated with more respectful nicknames, when a loud shout rang out right behind him and he froze mid movement.

“They're escaping through the windows!”

Out of the corner of his eyes Jaskier spotted the red and and gray armor and immediately understood that he had to think fast. Already kneeling with one leg, Jaskier dug his fingernails into one of the roof tiles and pulled at it with all his strength. It came loose almost too effortlessly and the bard did not hesitate to throw it right into the soldier's face. Jumping down roofs and balconies was always easier when his life was threatened.

He was down in no time, Aiden's arm steadying his fall like promised, barely had the time to secure his bag and lute on his back before the first soldiers were running around the corner and shouting at them to surrender in the name of the crown.

Neither Jaskier, nor Aiden found themselves really caring about the crown's desires shared one last look at each other and ran towards the market place as fast as they could.

The bard was quite familiar with this part of an adventurer's life and navigated through narrow alleys without difficulty. At this point there was no use in trying to hide his identity, but he could tell that Aiden was far more used to hiding away in the shadows than running past them. He'd have to be careful not to lose the witcher before they were swallowed up by the crowd where Aiden was back in his natural element of getting away through stealth alone.

“That one armed peasant is not Geralt of Rivia!” Fuck. Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck! Jaskier cursed in his mind as he darted around a corner and past a group of barrels he carelessly pushed into the way of his pursuers. Had he only spent his coin on that stupid coat, then they could've hidden Aiden's identity! As if searching for a one armed man wasn't an easy enough descriptor, if the soldiers should figure out that he was a witcher as well they'd surely be even more interested in catching them just for the bragging rights of the kill.

Melitele once again showed that she did not favor anyone. Fuck! “This way!” he called out to Aiden who suddenly looked a lot paler than he did minutes ago. “We're almost there,” he shouted just as the soldiers realized what they were trying to do.”Cut them off,” one screamed, “They're headed towards the market!”

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The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.3

“Well some of us decided to make use of the daylight and get supplies,” Jaskier answered, proudly holding up their new belongings. The Cat Witcher frowned at him, head cocked to the side, “Rope? What on earth do we need rope for, it's a mountain path not a cliff climbing exercise.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and – pointedly ignoring Aiden – knotted the rope to the side of his pack. He'd keep the charm in his belt pouch for now. “I mean seriously, Jaskier. Wouldn't food have been better? It's not like I can help a lot in that department, given the overall,” Aiden stopped himself from continuing and waved at himself with a sour face. Jaskier sighed.

He really couldn't phantom when he had developed the habit of running into half-dead witchers in need of heroic rescuing, but at this point it had happened too many times to still be considered a coincidence. Much like it had been the case with the other three Cats, the Viper, the Griffin pair and who afterwards had insisted on being called his Crane Wife, Jaskier had found Aiden just on time. After the failed assassination attempt in Yspaden and a horrible week spent hiding in the alleys and basements of Luton, Jaskier had collected enough coin and courage to head east, towards Kaedwen. Then, when traveling through the forests of Gelibol, he suddenly came across a merchant's cart and a man with amber eyes who introduced himself as Roland Treugger. Despite the fact that the man was an excellent liar, more so than the backstabbing cretin Valdo Marx himself, Jaskier almost instantly understood that there was something off about the merchant. Lo and behold, Jaskier wasn't being paranoid and the noise he heard coming from the inside of the wagon was not some caged animal to be sold at the next market, like Treugger had insisted, but Aiden bleeding onto the floor. Jaskier remembered very vividly how after that particular discovery he had turned back around and looked at the other man with a look so dispassionate it made Treugger stumble backwards. What Jaskier – despite Aiden's constant insisting – did not remember was the fact that Treugger had straight out stumbled into Jaskier's blade. Sixteen times. It certainly was a nice thought, but alas Jaskier was nothing but a humble bard and the short sword he carried with him was mostly for decoration. Aiden didn't believe him for a second.

Nevertheless the damage had already been done and while the Cat Witcher was lucky enough for both of his broken legs to heal properly, the same couldn't be said about his left arm or eye. In the passing day he lost both. Over his many years of travel the bard had to witness countless heartbreaking fates, but watching Aiden wake up only to realize what gruesome things had been done to him would stick with Jaskier for a long time. Aiden, like any witcher, was saved by his astonishingly strength and tough heart. His humor helped a lot too, as Jaskier was quick to learn.

Spending a fortnight hidden away in the forests had given them enough time to get to know and befriend each other. So when a troop of nilfgaardian soldiers found their camp, splitting up wasn't on the table anymore. Now Jaskier was stuck with a new travel companion and around a hundred horrible jokes on his mind about how Aiden was all-right, even if there was hardly anything left of him.

“No need to worry, sunshine, you forgot that I've been following Geralt around for around a century or so, I know my outdoor survival.” The bard chimed in, trying to lighten the mood again. Instead he watched how Aiden's right eye tightened. “Yeah, about that-” the witcher started, but was promptly cut off by him again. “Figuratively! Of course I meant it felt like a century. I was exaggerating, I'm a bard!” The deadpan look Aiden gave him was more than telling.

“Anyways! I think we really should get going. We've been pretty lucky so far, so I guess it's probably only a matter of time before someone comes looking for us.” The bard said, looking out the window of their small room to make sure that his fears hadn't become reality yet. “Need a helping hand?” he asked and watched with amusement as Aiden's face turned from disbelieve to being outright scandalized. “Fuck off!” He laughed and flipped Jaskier the bird, before finally getting out of bed. “You are going to end up in hell, bard,” the Cat Witcher tsked at him and went to collect his clothes from a stool nearby. “Oh shush, don't even pretend we don't share the same humor, pussycat.”

“Never said I was going to to meet Melitele either.”

“Ugh, sunshine, you're so dramatic!” Jaskier sighed, well aware of the irony behind his words. He watched, out the corner of his eyes, how Aiden slipped into his shirt, pants and coat. He struggled to secure the green sash around his waist that was supposed to keep his pants up like a belt. Aiden fought for a moment before managing to tighten the knot by holding part of the sash down with his elbow. Jaskier quietly thanked the gods for the small success and shouldered his pack and lute, checking the room twice for things he might have forgotten, while Aiden put on his boots and silver sword. He knew the Cat knew that he was watching like a hawk, but neither of them braced the topic of Jaskier's over-protectiveness.

Aiden was about to shoulder his sea sack when the two men were stopped mid-movement by loud voices coming from outside. Their eyes met and Aiden, closest to the open window, dropped to the floor just as quickly as Jaskier pressed himself against the far back wall of their room. Jerking his head towards the window he silently but sternly told Aiden to check out the commotion. After all he was the witcher, not Jaskier.

Aiden made a face at the bard that could we equally translated as 'Duh.' or 'Fuck you.' but dutifully inched closer to the window and listened. Not a moment later the witcher's pupil thinned into a predatory slit that fixated on Jaskier in a way that unmistakably meant trouble for them. “Redania,” Aiden mouthed without making a sound and then proceeded to make his way towards Jaskier, crawling on all... threes, in a way that he would've found hilarious if it weren't for their dire situation. “Soldiers,” Aiden whispered once he had reached the bard, “looking for a bard and his witcher in the name of the crown. They probably think I'm Geralt.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed underneath his breath, his heart hammering inside his chest as he willed his brain to think of a plan.

“There's a back door!” he suddenly remembered, having seen one of the innkeeper's daughters enter the house through the kitchens. “If we make it downstairs in time, we can escape through the yard.”

Aiden bit his lip. “Too risky. We don't know if any of the soldiers are already inside the house and the courtyard could be closed off. I say we climb through the window in the hallway and down the balcony, then make a run for it. Through the market and straight into the forest.”

“You want to jump off a balcony with two freshly healed legs and then get us separated in a crowd, are you mad!?” Jaskier hissed and slapped his hand against Aiden's shoulder. “There's no way the courtyard is closed off! And even if, we can just climb up and out.”

“Oh, but that's not risky at all. What happens if they surround us?”

please like and reblog if you voted

✨🌿🌼✨

She reminds him of Lambert ♡

Hmh kind of want to write a fic where it turns out that Lambert is only a wolf witcher during winter and the rest of the time he's at the caravan being their honorary cat.

*laughs in poly* Lambert has two hands!

---

Biting down on the inside of his cheek until it hurt, Lambert tried to swallow a pained groan. He was well used to the frequently occurring feeling of being stabbed in the back, but they'd been out in the wilderness for weeks now and it only gotten worse with time. Sleeping on hard, uneven dirt and spiky rocks, walking for hours on end just to be attacked by yet another herd of monsters really didn't help his little problem either.

He had finally reached a point where just standing upright hurt enough to have him wincing. Coen and Aiden were a good few paces ahead of him when he just couldn't take it anymore.

Lambert stopped dead in his tracks and carefully sank down to his knees, bowing his head down to round his back and ease away some of the pain. He decidedly couldn't give a single fuck about the way he must've looked like with his ass up and his head pressed against the ground. It took away some of his pain, even if it was just for a moment.

As soon as they noticed that the wolf wasn't following them anymore, Aiden and Coen were kneeling by his side, strong hands trying to help him up while carefully checking for any possible injuries their last fight could have caused. "Stop, fucking stop it," Lambert argued weakly, batting their hands away while trying not to move too much. "It's nothing, I'm fine! Just need a moment. Stop grabbing me!"

"Gods above, Lambert, you are definitely not fine! You should have said something."

"You're obviously in pain. What were you thinking, going on like this? That's madness!"

The younger witcher huffed out a breath, certainly not having expected a reaction like that. "Not something you can do anything about," he hissed out, "My back is fucked. Just- Just give me a moment then we can go on."

"Absolutely not!"

"Are you insane, lambchops? We're not going anywhere before you're feeling better!"

Lambert's heart skipped a beat. Trying to collect his last bit of strength he carefully sat up, two pairs of hands immediately at his side, helping him up and supporting his weight. "We'll set up camp here," Coen ordered with a voice that left no room for protests. "This spot is as good as any and if we put our bedrolls together we can get you to lie on something soft while Aiden takes a look at your back."

"Believe it or not, but I know a thing or two about 'fucked up' bodies. I'm sure I can help."

Lambert took one last look at his partners before he decided that he was in no condition to argue against two forces of nature, especially not when they were set on helping him. He bit his cheek and let himself be helped for once.

"Oh gods above," Aiden giggled helplessly, "What on earth were we thinking?" Next to him, Lambert snorted. "I think I cracked a rip." They turned their heads, locked eyes and bursted into laughter. Tears sprung into Lambert's eyes and he clutched his side, a wide grin on his face. "Stop laughing, you ass! It's contagious."

"I can't, you look so fucking stupid in that costume," the Cat wheezed, body curling towards Lambert as he vibrated with joy.

"We're never going to try this again. In fact, I'm going to cross it fron the list." He reached across the bed, hand blindly patting for the journal as he curled closer to his lover.

😂 Thank you

Send me an ask with a quote/lyric, pairing and n/sft for your own paragraph

But what if... Aiden had a mustache?

A full on Dorian Pavus mustache??

Would Lambert try to shave it off? Or would he like it? Would Aiden look completely baby-faced without the mustache? Are mustaches a cat witcher thing????