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Gaetan snarls as menacingly as he can - which isn’t very - at the hulking figure looming in the entrance to the little cave where he’s holed up to die. The figure is silhouetted against the sky; all Gaetan can make out are broad shoulders and the hilts of two swords.
That isn’t any help. Nobody from the other Schools thinks of Cats as anything but enemies, and if this is someone from his School -
He takes a breath and smells alpha, and gropes for a dagger. No. No, they won’t haul him back - he’ll die first. Not that that will take long. The gut wound he’s curled around will see to that soon enough.
“Ah shit,” the strange alpha says, and moves closer, though not close enough to stab. “Tiny bald Cat omega - are you Gaetan?”
Gaetan is so startled that he actually nods before he can get his wits together.
“Shit,” the strange alpha says, and crouches down, still out of stabbing range. “Here.” He rolls something across the stone floor: a little vial of something that gleams a familiar blue in the sunlight.
Gaetan drops the dagger and gropes for the vial, popping it open with clumsy fingers and draining it in a long gulp. It tastes right - foul and flowery - and he can feel it start to work as soon as it hits his tattered guts.
“Why?” he demands. Why is his name enough to make some strange witcher - not a Cat, he’s close enough that Gaetan can see his scarred face, and he’s never encountered this man before in his life - give him a Swallow?
“Aiden’d be sad if you died,” the strange witcher explains.
How the hell does Aiden know this man? Has he gone and gotten himself claimed?
Fuck, he probably has.
If Gaetan survives this, he’s gonna have to rescue his brother. Somehow.
Fuck.
He passes out as the pain of his gut-wound mending becomes overwhelming.
*
When he wakes up, he’s wrapped up in a blanket and being carried like a kit. He’s also miserably weak, but it doesn’t feel like he’s bleeding out anymore, so that’s…probably good. On the other hand, his head feels sort of…swimmy, and he’s both much too hot and shivering hard. That’s probably bad.
Witchers don’t get infections easily, but Gaetan has the sinking feeling he might have managed it.
“Hey,” the strange alpha says. Gaetan cracks his eyes open, grimacing at the light - fuck, he was out at least a full night, wasn’t he - and is met with the sight of a silver Wolf medallion.
Fuck.
Of all the Schools, Wolves have the most reason to hate Cats. Which means if this alpha has claimed Aiden -
Gods. The Cat alphas were bad enough. Who knows what a Wolf alpha might do to Gaetan’s brother? Might already have done?
Might also be planning to do to Gaetan, of course, but Gaetan is perfectly capable of taking his own damn vengeance. Aiden goes still and small and silent when an alpha corners him. Gaetan bites.
Assuming, of course, that he survives long enough to have a chance to do anything but pass out again, godsdammit.
*
The next time Gaetan wakes up, he’s genuinely cold, rather than just shivering with fever. His mouth tastes like Swallow, but also some sort of broth, and he’s…actually feeling a lot better than he was.
He’s wrapped up in blankets next to a fire, in a much larger cave than his previous hole, and the scarred Wolf alpha is quietly tending to a big black stallion. Outside the cave, little tiny flakes of snow are blowing past, melting as soon as they hit the ground.
Gaetan moves a little, and the Wolf turns from his horse and smiles, the scars making the expression far more of a snarl. “Hey, actually awake this time?”
“Yes,” Gaetan says warily.
The alpha comes over and crouches a little ways away. “Hungry? Thirsty? Need another Swallow?”
“...Thirsty,” Gaetan admits, as a test. What sort of begging does this alpha want? Or is he the sort who prefers to pretend to be kind and then demand payment afterwards?
“Sure,” the alpha says, and rises, coming back with a waterskin and crouching down again to hand it over, like he doesn’t want to loom. Gaetan sips warily, but it’s just water, cold and clean. He drinks deeply. Fuck, that’s good.
“Where are we?” he asks, once his mouth tastes less like old Swallow.
“Halfway up the Trail to Kaer Morhen,” the Wolf replies.
Gaetan goes very still. “Why.”
“Because you were gonna die if I left you there,” the Wolf says, shrugging. “And I don’t want to be the one to tell Aiden I left his brother to die, not when he said you were one of the handful of Cats who weren’t utter shits.”
Gaetan is getting steadily more confused. It almost sounds like this Wolf cares about Aiden’s feelings, but that makes no fucking sense at all. And he’s bringing Gaetan to Kaer Morhen, to the very stronghold of the Wolves, the place no Cats have been welcome for nearly as long as Gaetan has been alive.
Ah. It must be a lie - at least the bit about caring what Aiden thinks. Probably the Wolf got Gaetan’s name out of Aiden somehow - ah, fuck, probably Aiden was calling for him, hoping for rescue - and now the Wolves are, what, collecting Cat omegas? That would be just the sort of vicious nastiness he’d expect from Cat alphas, had the Wolves wronged them as bitterly as the Cats betrayed the Wolves. They’d take a horrible pleasure in taking the Wolves’ omegas away from them, in taking their vengeance on the weakest of their enemies.
That’s probably what’s happening.
Well, joke’s on them if they think Gaetan’s going to be as easy to tame as Aiden is. And with Gaetan there - well, Aiden’s always been more willing to defend others than himself. If he has Gaetan there to protect, he’ll be a lot more dangerous than the Wolves are expecting.
So now Gaetan just has to get to Kaer Morhen and see how badly off his brother is.
“How much longer to Kaer Morhen?” he asks.
“Another day or so,” the Wolf says, shrugging. “We’ll make it a little after dark tomorrow if the weather holds out.”
Another day or so. Gaetan can pretend to docility that long.
*
The Wolf lets him ride the horse the rest of the way, since Gaetan is awake enough to hold onto the pommel of the saddle - and small enough not to be much of a burden to the animal, which is also heavily laden with bags of what Gaetan presumes are supplies for the winter. The weather does hold out, and true to the Wolf’s word, just as it becomes too dark to really lead a horse safely, they round a spur of rock and find themselves in the shelter of a great stone wall. The gates are open, and there’s someone standing there with a lantern.
“Eskel,” the lantern-bearer calls in a gruff voice. “Who’s your companion?”
“Gaetan of the Cats,” the Wolf alpha calls back. Now Gaetan has a name for him, at least. He waits for the lantern-bearer to react somehow to his name, but all the man does is grunt and step back so Eskel can lead the horse in.
The lantern-bearer turns out to be a grizzled old beta, who looks Gaetan up and down, shakes his head, and says, “You look like shit, Cat.”
“Found him bleeding out in a cave,” Eskel supplies. “His fever broke yesterday.”
The beta grimaces. “Fuck.” He eyes Gaetan for a long minute. “I’ll go get a room ready,” he says finally, and strides off towards the bulk of the keep.
‘Ready,’ huh. Gaetan wonders what that means. Break out the chains, maybe? Make sure the lock on the door is secure?
But when Eskel leads Gaetan up through the keep’s corridors, Gaetan stumbling a little with unwonted weakness left over from the fever, the room the beta has gotten ready is…just a room. It’s got a fireplace and a big bed heaped with furs and a chest at the foot of the bed for Gaetan’s few possessions, and a sword-rack by the door where Eskel puts down Gaetan’s weapons without any hesitation.
It doesn’t even smell like an alpha in here. The blankets and furs have clearly been in storage; they smell of cedar and lavender, and faintly of the beta, and nothing else.
And there’s a bowl of stew steaming on the little table beside the bed, and a big tankard of what smells like pretty decent ale.
“Yell if you need us,” Eskel says. “Otherwise get some sleep. Tomorrow I’ll show you the hot springs.”
And he leaves Gaetan there, alone in a room that locks from the inside, with his weapons ready to hand.
Gaetan has to admit that he has rarely been quite so confused in all his life.
*
He wakes up the next morning with an unpleasantly familiar feeling deep in his gut, and lies there counting days frantically in his head, trying to come up with any answer that isn’t the obvious one.
He’s in pre-heat. Gods damn it. Alone in a strange place - no sign of Aiden anywhere - still too fucking weak to fight off an alpha -
At least there’s only one alpha. Eskel’s big, yeah, but he’ll get tired eventually.
Fuck.
Gaetan’s gone years without having to deal with this. Almost two decades, in fact. He’s stabbed a couple of bastards who thought him being an omega meant he was easy prey, and he’s holed up in hunting lodges and caves and once a tree, but he hasn’t had to actually deal with an alpha in so fucking long, and now -
Ah, fuck.
The thing is, even in heat he doesn’t want an alpha. A knot, sure, he likes a knot, but a wooden one works just as well as the real thing, and without the -
Well, he doesn’t like the way alphas smell.
Everyone has always said that’s fucking weird, but fuck them. If most omegas can think that alphas smell like fucking catnip or whatever, then Gaetan can be the weird outlier who thinks they’re…usually kind of stinky, and even the ones who aren’t awful are just bearable, nothing more. Eskel’s not bad, just sort of smoky, but Gaetan isn’t looking forward to being surrounded by his scent for days. Not to mention getting fucked. Gaetan doesn’t like getting fucked, not by actual people.
So this is going to be fucking godsawful. Great.
There’s a knock on the door, and Gaetan sighs and gets up. He doesn’t have food or water in here - he can’t just lock the door and stay inside, he’ll die of dehydration, and that’s a miserable way to go and also won’t help rescue Aiden, wherever Aiden is.
Assuming Aiden really does need rescuing. The Wolves have not…have not been acting as Gaetan expects. Not yet, anyway. They’ve been downright welcoming, in point of fact.
But now he’s in pre-heat, and payment is, he is sure, about to come due.
He opens the door, and Eskel takes one sniff and steps back.
“Shit,” he says. “You’re going into heat.”
Gaetan eyes him in wary confusion. “Yeah.”
“Hell,” Eskel says. “Uh. Do you…uh…do you want…well, me, since Geralt’s not back yet…there for your heat?”
Gaetan blinks at him. Why is he asking like that?
“No,” he says after a moment, waiting for the rage. For the laughter. For Eskel crowding him back into the room and telling him what he wants doesn’t matter.
Instead, Eskel steps back again, and heaves a sigh of what sure as fuck sounds like relief. “Right, then, tell you what - are you like Aiden, with a really short pre-heat?”
“...Yes?” Gaetan says warily.
“Then I’ll show you down to the hot springs, and Vesemir’ll get a heat room ready for you,” Eskel says.
And that is what he does, leading Gaetan down through the many stairways of the keep to a long low room in the basement with deep pools of clean, clear, gloriously hot water arranged down the center. Eskel sits down against a wall, well away from the water, and closes his eyes - an astonishing courtesy - and Gaetan strips down and slides into the water and decides that this might actually be worth whatever price the Wolves are going to take out of his hide. Fuck, this may be the best bath he’s ever had.
And when he’s clean and warm through, Eskel leads him back up, not to the bedroom he was given, but to a room in one of the towers, where the beta - Vesemir, head of the Wolves, apparently, and how a beta ended up in charge Gaetan can’t imagine - has put together a nest of the blankets off Gaetan’s bed, already smelling a little like him, and a fur that smells like -
Well, the scent has faded a bit, but it’s unmistakably Aiden. Aiden, and another omega Gaetan doesn’t recognize.
And nothing smells like any alphas at all.
“I’ll come by every few hours to get you to drink something,” Vesemir informs him solemnly. “Yell if you need anything.”
Gaetan nods, so baffled he can’t even start to ask questions. Vesemir gestures at a chest over by the wall - the only bit of furniture in the room beside the nest. “Oil and toys are in there,” he says. “Do you prefer applesauce or broth?”
“...Broth,” Gaetan says slowly. Vesemir nods, and he and Eskel leave, closing the door behind them.
It has a lock. A lock and a flap in the bottom so someone can pass things in without coming in. It’s - fuck, this is a real heat room, the kind Gaetan’s only ever seen in fancy noble houses, where the omega is genuinely supposed to be able to keep unwanted alphas out.
He locks the door and flops down into the nest, staring up at the ceiling in utter bafflement.
Right. He still has an hour or so before his heat kicks in and he’s thinking of nothing but a knot. So he can maybe think this through halfway rationally, without fever or fear or his stupid body’s instincts getting in the way.
Eskel found him bleeding out, and gave him Swallow. He brought him back to Kaer Morhen without even trying to fuck him, which, frankly, most of the Cat alphas Gaetan’s ever met would have done, even with Gaetan feverish and wounded. He and Vesemir gave Gaetan a bedroom with a lock, and now they’ve given him a heat-room with a lock, and Eskel at least implied he’d stay out of the room.
Of course, they probably have the keys somewhere. This could all be a very long game, and Eskel could just be waiting until Gaetan’s mindless with heat and will beg for a knot regardless of how he really feels. But…
Somehow, despite all his instincts clamoring for him to distrust any and all alphas, and witcher alphas most of all, Gaetan can’t quite shake the feeling that he might…
Might be safe.
It’s impossible, it’s ridiculous, but -
The blanket smells like Aiden and the unknown omega and not a single hint of pain or fear.
Maybe.
Maybe Gaetan has stumbled into a miracle.
But probably not.
*
There are, in fact, wooden toys in the chest, beautifully-carved wooden pricks in several sizes, each with a smooth perfect knot at its base, and oil to coat them with. Gaetan lays them out beside the nest carefully, next to a waterskin and a second skin of broth, and sits down in the nest and waits to discover this is all an elaborate and very nasty trap.
The first wave of heat is always dizzying. Gaetan grits his teeth against the whine that wants to rise from his throat. He hates this, he hates this, he hates the way the alphas in the caravan would wait for this and then mock him afterwards for begging when he couldn’t help his body wanting what his mind truly and passionately never wants -
Fuck, he wants a knot.
There’s a knot right there beside the nest, a knot without a fucking alpha attached to it, and Gaetan scrabbles for the first of the wooden toys and douses it with oil, not caring that it goes everywhere, and twists around until he can slide the tip into himself where he’s wet and desperate to be filled. This is easier with another omega or a beta around - this was always easier with Aiden around, the few times they managed to hide themselves away together - Aiden or Kiyan or even Schrodinger -
But the wooden prick sinks into him eventually, and Gaetan sighs and feels his mind go blissfully blank of everything but being filled.
Somehow, he manages to keep a little corner of sanity, a tiny bit of alertness waiting tensely for the lock to turn, the door to open, the alpha to come and take what he desires.
It never happens.
Vesemir comes by every so often - Gaetan has no idea how much time passes between each visit - bringing water and broth and calling through the flap until Gaetan responds. But Eskel - Gaetan can’t even smell Eskel after a while. Can’t smell any alphas. There’s just him and the toys and the faint scent of Aiden and another omega, and it’s -
Fuck, it’s the best heat he’s had in a long damn time. He’s by himself, he has toys to sate his body’s needs, he’s comfortable, he’s brought food and drink when he needs it, and after a while he really does forget to worry about an alpha barging in.
It’s really, really good.
*
He wakes up sore and sticky, with the wooden toys scattered around him in the nest and the bottle of oil entirely empty. These blankets are all going to need to be washed several times.
He’s alone, and has been for his entire fucking heat.
Three full days where an alpha could have had whatever they wanted from him without any trouble at all, and yet…
And yet Eskel didn’t.
Huh.
Gaetan clambers to his feet, wincing a little, and wraps one of the least-sticky blankets around himself, and goes to open the door.
To his surprise, there’s someone sitting in the hall a little ways away. It’s not Eskel or Vesemir - it’s not a witcher at all, in fact, nor an alpha, but a handsome human beta man, his floppy brown hair falling into his eyes as he scribbles in a notebook.
“Oh!” he says, looking up as the door opens. “Hullo! Heat’s over, then?”
“Yes,” Gaetan says, eyeing the man in confusion.
“Great! I’m Jaskier,” the man says, bouncing to his feet and tucking the notebook away. “Want me to walk you down to the hot springs?”
“...Sure,” Gaetan says slowly, and then, “Wait, Jaskier the bard?”
“Ooh, you’ve heard of me!” fucking Jaskier the bard chirps happily. The bard who follows the fucking White Wolf around. Which presumably means the White Wolf is here, in Kaer Morhen, and Gaetan knows he’s an alpha, too, and -
And he didn’t even come close enough to the heat room for Gaetan to smell him.
“Eskel says you’re Gaetan of the Cats, Aiden’s brother!” Jaskier says cheerfully as he leads the way down the ridiculous number of stairs in this castle. “Aiden’s not here yet, but Vesemir spotted him and Lambert at the base of the Trail this morning, so probably tomorrow or the next day.”
“Lambert?” Gaetan asks.
“He’s Aiden’s Wolf,” Jaskier explains. “Such a prickly fellow, but he’s a complete sweetheart under the swearing and scowling.” He grins. “And you can feel free to tell him I said that.”
“...Alpha?” Gaetan ventures. Jaskier shakes his head.
“Omega,” he says. Which probably means he’s the scent that’s mixed up with Aiden’s on that blanket. And - Aiden’s Wolf. Aiden’s Wolf is an omega.
What the fuck is going on in this place?
“So,” Jaskier says conversationally as they reach the hot springs and Gaetan slips eagerly into one of the pools, “Aiden told us last winter what Cat alphas are like.” He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “And since I’m neither witcher nor alpha, I’ve been elected to tell you what it’s like in Kaer Morhen.”
“What are you?” Gaetan demands as fiercely as he can while all his muscles are melting in the blissfully hot water.
“Mostly human,” the bard says cheerfully. “There’s a prize for guessing what the nonhuman bit is, but nobody’s won it yet.”
“Not even the White Wolf?” Gaetan asks.
Jaskier laughs. “Geralt is a very smart man and also cannot see what’s under his godsdamned nose when it comes to some things,” he says. “He didn’t realize I loved him for years. No, I’m guessing it’ll be Eskel or Aiden who figures it out.”
“Ah,” Gaetan says, and makes a mental note to keep an eye on the bard.
“Anyhow,” Jaskier says, rolling his pants legs up and sitting down on the edge of the pool to dip his feet in, “Wolves, and Kaer Morhen, and how much not like the Cat caravan it is here.”
Gaetan nods. He…wouldn’t have been willing to listen to anything like this when Eskel first found him, would have assumed every bit of it was a vicious lie, but now that he’s spent a heat entirely alone - cared for, fed, guarded, but alone - well, he’ll hear the bard out.
“So Aiden said in the caravan, the alphas let you have food and shelter, and take the price between your legs,” Jaskier says bluntly. “In Kaer Morhen, it works differently. You’re Aiden’s brother, and Aiden’s part of the pack, which means you are too. That means you get food and shelter and medical care as you need it. Your part of this is helping with chores, not hurting anyone, and coming to training when you’re healed enough and not right out of your heat or helping with someone else’s. That’s it. Nobody here expects to fuck you, in heat or out of it, now or ever.”
Gaetan stares at him. Every bit of experience he has had in his more than six decades of life suggests that that has to be false. Alphas want what they want, and they take it.
Except for the last week, or however long it’s been since Eskel found him. The last heat, where Eskel could have had him, easy as anything, and didn’t even try. This moment right now, basking in the hot springs with a mostly-human bard who has to know that even just out of a heat, even weak from recent injuries, Gaetan could rip his throat out…and who isn’t the slightest bit scared.
Who smells like he’s been fucking at least one alpha, probably two, but doesn’t smell like pain at all.
“Since when is Aiden part of the Wolf pack?” Gaetan asks at last.
Jaskier shrugs. “Since last winter when Lambert brought him home. They’re dreadfully sweet together. For Lambert values of sweet, admittedly, but still. Vesemir calls him catling, you know - Aiden, I mean, not Lambert.”
Gaetan boggles a little. The Wolf Grandmaster has a nickname for his brother. One that isn’t cruel or derisive or anything but…oddly fond. “It’s that easy?” he asks incredulously. “This Lambert brings Aiden home, and poof, I’m part of the pack? What, does that apply to all the Cats?”
Jaskier snorts. “That easy - oh yes. As easy as getting Lambert to trust you. As far as I can tell, he trusts five people in the world, and Aiden most of all of them. And Aiden trusts you, so…” He shrugs. “And it’s not all Cats, no. Most of your School would get stabbed on sight. You, Kiyan, Cedric, Axel, and Guxart if he’s still alive - that’s the list Aiden gave us, of the ones he counts as brothers in truth.”
That lines up well with Gaetan’s own list, actually. And it explains - as much as anything about this insanity can be explained - how Eskel reacted to finding him.
How Aiden managed to win himself the trust of a Wolf - that’s something Gaetan will have to ask his brother.
*
When he’s soaked his aches away, Jaskier produces clothing for him - clearly found in some old chest or other, by the cedar-and-lavender smell of it, and probably meant for a trainee, not a full-grown Wolf - and leads the way up to the main hall. There are three people already seated at a long table near the fireplace: Eskel, and Vesemir, and a pale-haired alpha who must be the White Wolf himself.
Jaskier goes right over and sits down between the two alphas, who lean in and nuzzle at him happily. Vesemir looks up at Gaetan and indicates a spot on the other side of the table from the alphas, well out of their reach. Gaetan sits down warily, and is flatly astonished when Vesemir starts heaping the plate in front of him with venison and mashed turnips and good dark bread.
“You’re thinner than Aiden was,” the old beta grumbles. “Do Cats just not eat?”
“Uh,” Gaetan says, and takes a bite rather than trying to respond.
It’s fucking delicious. Gods damn.
The alphas have apparently finished eating, but they entertain themselves by nuzzling and cuddling Jaskier while he polishes off his plate, and then pick the beta up between them and carry him over to the heap of furs in front of the fire. Gaetan wonders if he’s going to see Jaskier get fucked right there - if that’s something Wolves do - but the Wolves just curl around their bard, purring like thunder, and apparently fall straight to sleep.
That’s…different.
Especially since the bard seems perfectly happy to be in the middle of a pile of alpha witchers.
“Puppies,” Vesemir sighs. The bard laughs.
Gaetan decides to eat his supper and worry about this later.
It’s a very good supper.
He sleeps through breakfast the next morning, and comes down for lunch to find all the witchers and Jaskier still damp from a recent dip in the hot springs. The White Wolf gives him a short, polite little nod of greeting. Eskel smiles openly.
“Feeling better?” he asks. “How’s your stomach?”
“Healed,” Gaetan admits, and then, a little reluctantly, “That’s good Swallow you have.”
“Lambert improved our recipe,” Eskel says. “And also yells at us if we use drowner brains he doesn’t think are fresh enough.”
Jaskier snorts. “We ran into him outside Ellander this summer,” he says. “He caught Geralt using day-old drowner brains and I learned half a dozen new curses.”
Geralt sighs and rolls his eyes expressively. Gaetan attempts to reconcile the knowledge that the absent Lambert is an omega with the fact that he apparently feels perfectly comfortable cursing his alphas out.
…Are they his alphas? How does that work with Aiden?
So many questions, so few answers. Gaetan needs Aiden to get here soon, gods damn it.
*
Thankfully, Aiden and the mysterious Lambert arrive late the next afternoon, just before supper. The rest of the Wolves start keeping a watch from the tower above the gate about midday, and as the sun sinks behind the mountains, Eskel comes pounding down from the tower with a whoop.
“They’ll be here in half an hour,” he calls into the hall, where Vesemir and Gaetan are playing a very cautious game of Gwent while Geralt cuddles the bard. Geralt leaps to his feet, Jaskier not much slower, and Vesemir plays one last card before rising, looking almost as eager as the alphas are. Gaetan follows them out into the courtyard, wondering what this reunion - this homecoming - is going to look like.
Not much like coming back to the caravan, he’s going to guess.
Lambert, it turns out, is a big redheaded man, tall and brawny for a beta nevermind an omega, who greets the alphas with a whoop of glee and flings himself into their arms; they all go down together in a rolling heap, laughing and swearing.
Gaetan doesn’t pay much attention past that, because the other rider leaps off of his horse and sprints across the courtyard, brown hair flying behind him, and Gaetan meets him halfway. Aiden’s arms close around him tightly enough to make his ribs ache, and the bigger omega picks Gaetan up entirely, whirling him about, before setting him down again and seizing him by the shoulders to look him up and down.
“You look like shit, baby brother,” Aiden says. “Fuck, it’s good to see you! What are you doing here?”
“Fuck you!” Gaetan returns gleefully. “Some of us don’t have our very own guard dogs, you know. Damn, you look good, you bastard!”
It’s the truth, too: Aiden looks healthy and happy, as well-fed and well-groomed as anyone can be after climbing that ridiculous excuse for a Trail, and he smells as contented as he looks.
“It’s been a good year,” Aiden says, and hauls Gaetan into another tight hug. “Fuck, I have missed you. But how did you end up here? Snag yourself a Wolf of your own?”
Gaetan wrinkles his nose. “You know I don’t want an alpha.”
“True,” Aiden agrees. “Vesemir’s a beta, though.”
Gaetan snorts. “No, I haven’t seduced the Wolf Grandmaster,” he says, though that would be a hell of a trick to pull off if he had. “...Eskel pulled me out of what was gonna be my grave,” he admits quietly.
“Eskel what,” Aiden blurts in horror.
Gaetan sighs. “Fuckin’ chort got me across the guts,” he says softly. “Killed it, and made it to a cave, but I was out of…pretty much everything. Figured I was gonna die there.” He shrugs as Aiden’s arms tighten around him. “Eskel found me. Poured some Swallow into me and stitched me up and brought me here.”
“Thank fuck,” Aiden breathes. “I’m gonna have to go kiss that bastard as soon as Lambert’s done with him. Thank fuck, baby brother.”
Gaetan nestles his head into the crook of Aiden’s throat and clings right back. “Thank fuck,” he agrees softly. “Aiden, it’s so fuckin’ weird here.”
“Yeah,” Aiden agrees, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “It is. But it’s good. Whatever they’ve told you, it’s true. This isn’t anything like the caravan, baby brother. This is a safe place, for true.”
Gaetan takes a deep breath of Aiden’s familiar, comforting scent. “I trust you,” he murmurs. “And…I’m starting to trust this.”
“Good,” Aiden whispers. “Fuck, Gaetan, I’m so damn glad you’re here.”
*
They get a chance to talk privately the next afternoon, after Aiden and Lambert have had supper and slept and everyone has spent the morning out in the courtyard - Gaetan has been allowed to sit out the training on account of his recent injury and heat, but he gets to watch the Wolves and bard and Aiden sparring, and it’s fascinating.
For one thing, Aiden doesn’t hold back. He doesn’t seem to be worried about any retaliation from the Wolves for beating them; he flings himself gleefully into combat, quick and deadly as a Cat should be, and Eskel, who’s his first opponent, actually laughs in glee as they clash. And Aiden laughs, too.
Aiden is having fun.
So’s the bard, despite being a squishy mostly-human; he’s facing off against Lambert, apparently unconcerned by having a witcher looming over him. Gaetan watches both matches, lip caught between his teeth, but though Eskel does draw blood at one point - a long scratch down Aiden’s arm - it’s nothing too bad for a witcher, and Lambert is clearly being slower and more careful against the bard than he would against any of his brothers or Aiden.
Vesemir, Gaetan sees when he glances over at the last pair of combatants, is really fucking good. So’s the White Wolf, but that’s pretty much expected; the fact that Vesemir is keeping up with the much younger, much stronger alpha is…impressive.
If Gaetan were interested in any Wolf, it would probably be the Grandmaster. But…no. That would be a bad choice for a whole lot of reasons, one of which is that seducing his brother’s lover’s father-figure would be…rude.
Anyway, the sparring is fascinating to watch, and nobody gets hurt, not meaningfully. Soaking in the hot springs with all the Wolves is a little nerve-wracking, but Aiden is right there, and neither of the alphas so much as leers at Gaetan. The only leering that’s happening, in fact, is the bard ogling the alphas, who preen under his attention, and Aiden ogling Lambert, who looks smug as hell about it. And lunch is tasty as hell, as all the food Gaetan has eaten in the keep thus far has been.
And then Aiden leads him off to the top of one of the towers, where they can see everything for miles around and curl up together in relative comfort, especially as they’ve both brought blankets along.
“What the hell,” Gaetan says once they’ve gotten comfortable. “Just…what the hell, Aiden? When Eskel mentioned your name, I thought I was gonna have to murder the rest of the Wolf School to rescue you!”
Aiden’s arm tightens around his shoulders. “Yeah, I get that. When Lambert invited me up here last fall, I thought he was bringing me here to be a chew toy for his pack. Figured I’d spend the winter being fucked in his place.” He swallows hard.
“Why the fuck did you come then, you idiot?” Gaetan demands.
Aiden sighs. “I love him,” he says softly. “I hadn’t told him then, but I’ve loved him for a long time. I figured…I figured I could bear it, for a winter, for Lambert.”
“Fuck,” Gaetan whispers. He knows - he knows Aiden did that for him, more than once. Offered himself in Gaetan’s place. He’s not sure he’s ever going to be able to repay Aiden for that. “But they didn’t -”
“They didn’t touch me until I asked them to,” Aiden says quietly. “Hell, Lambert’s been sharing his heats with them every year since he started having heats, and they still didn’t touch him til he said they could. Didn’t even ask, didn’t even hint. I…fuck, Gaetan. They’re so damn good to each other. They’re what the clowder should have been. Maybe what it was, under Guxart.”
“But they did fuck you,” Gaetan says, latching onto the most worrisome part of that whole little speech.
“They saw me through my heat,” Aiden says, and then sighs. “It was the best damn heat I’ve ever had, Gae. It was - nothing hurt. Nothing. Nobody did anything I didn’t like. It was what heats are fucking well supposed to be like and I am fucking livid when I let myself think about it, because Lambert’s had that all his life and we should have had it too.”
Gaetan hisses softly. “I just had mine,” he admits. “They gave me a heat room. It had a lock, Aiden. And I didn’t catch a fucking whiff of Eskel the whole time.” He takes a deep, shaky breath. “Is that - fuck, Aiden, is that what it’s supposed to be like?”
“Yeah,” Aiden whispers. “That’s what it’s supposed to be like. Just you, and anyone you want, and nobody you don’t, and no pain at all.”
Gaetan clenches his fists in the blankets wrapped around them. “I want them dead,” he says, soft enough that no one further away than Aiden could hear him. “Not the Wolves. Fuck, you couldn’t pay me to kill the Wolves, not anymore. But all of them that hurt us. All the fucking Cat alphas who think omegas are their toys. I want them dead, Aiden. Every last godsdamned one of them.” He has to move, has to do something before he bursts; wriggling out of the blanket cocoon, he starts pacing furiously. “They told us this is just how alphas are, the fuckers, and it’s a fucking lie!”
He points angrily down at the hall below them. “Those fucking alpha puppies down there have every reason in the godsdamned world to hate us, to hurt us, and the only thing either of them has done is keep me alive!”
Aiden nods.
“What the hell,” Gaetan says weakly. “What the hell, Aiden. Where did our School go so fucking wrong?”
“I don’t know,” Aiden admits. “I wish I did.” He takes a long, slow breath. “We ran across Brehen in Velen last spring.”
Gaetan goes very still. He remembers Brehen. He remembers Brehen vividly. “And?” he rasps.
Slowly, Aiden smiles. It’s a fanged, vicious expression, and Gaetan finds himself mirroring it. “My Wolf held him down for me, and I fed him his fucking knot before he died.”
“Good,” Gaetan snarls. “Oh, fuck yes. I like your Wolf better already.”
“He’s fierce,” Aiden says very fondly. “And so very sweet.”
Gaetan grins. “So your Wolf is a fierce sweetheart, and Eskel goes around saving nearly-dead Cats for the sake of his brother’s lover, and Vesemir cooks like a fucking royal chef -”
“And Geralt is the cuddliest fucker you have ever damn well seen,” Aiden finishes.
Gaetan reaches up and rubs the medallion around his throat. “I’m a Cat,” he says quietly. “Can’t ever change that. But gods damn, if the Wolf School aren’t…”
“Lambert says growing up here was shit,” Aiden admits, nodding in understanding. “But once you’re a Wolf, you’re part of the pack. And being pack…means something.” He offers Gaetan a rueful little smile. “And now we’re pack, too.”
“Pack,” Gaetan says. It’s - fuck. Pack means a Wolf will pick up a half-dead stranger and put him back together, just for the sake of a brother’s happiness. Pack means heats without alphas bothering him, means food he doesn’t have to fight for, means a place to sleep where he doesn’t have to keep one eye open just in case. Pack means his brother smelling like sated contentment, all but mated to another omega who dotes on him the way Aiden deserves.
It’s pretty near impossible to believe anyone could actually act like that, but Gaetan’s standing here with a scar where a wound that nearly killed him should be, with his heat behind him and not even a hint of an alpha anywhere nearby, with his brother sitting there hale and happy as Gaetan has never seen him before -
Fuck it. Guess the Wolf pack has two Cats now.
*
Gaetan studies the Wolves as carefully as he would a contract, though for rather different reasons. It’s an extremely educational - and often very entertaining - way to pass the winter.
Observation the first: Wolves are cuddly bastards. They spend at least part of every day in a heap by the fire in the main hall - even Vesemir! And they can all put on absurdly good pleading faces to lure passing Cats or bards in to join them.
It takes Gaetan a little while to get used to being within arm’s reach of an alpha without having a hand on a dagger, but after a few days of watching Aiden burrow into the puppy piles without any hesitation at all, and being welcomed in with nuzzling and warm embraces but never anything more, he decides to try it out. He picks a time when the only person dozing by the fire is Eskel, because Eskel has already had every chance he could possibly want to do Gaetan harm or fuck him, and steadfastly taken exactly none of them.
Gaetan approaches very cautiously, and sits down on the furs a little ways from Eskel, who opens one eye and gives Gaetan a soft, sleepy smile and rolls over, baring his whole damn stomach, and flops one arm out in obvious welcome. Gaetan lies down slowly and rests his head on Eskel’s shoulder, ready to squirm away at any moment, and Eskel sighs and nuzzles his head and falls asleep again, rumbling a purr that resonates all the way down to Gaetan’s bones.
It’s really fucking comfortable.
Over the next week or so, Gaetan joins Aiden and Lambert in a pile - Aiden curls around him with little happy chirping noises, and Lambert is a veritable wall of warmth, it’s damn nice - and stretches out next to Vesemir after spending the early afternoon helping in the kitchen - Vesemir’s soft snores when he dozes off are incredibly soothing - and finally even nerves himself up to join the White Wolf and his bard. Geralt, it turns out, is even cuddlier than the rest of his pack, and ends up gnawing on the hem of Gaetan’s tunic in his sleep, and then looks so mournfully apologetic about it that Gaetan can’t even be mad.
It’s very hard to be wary of a man giving you puppy eyes while his bard cackles madly in the background.
So Gaetan ends up joining one of the big cuddle piles, and it’s warm and there are too many elbows and the two alphas purr so it shakes the whole pile, and Gaetan lies there wondering how the hell this is so comfortable.
He should be terrified. He should be stabbing everything he can reach.
He falls asleep instead. And he wakes up warm and comfortable and safe, which is…
Well, it’s pretty much unique.
So. There’s that.
Observation the second: Wolves are randy bastards, but also weirdly polite about it. Like, it’s pretty clear that Geralt and Eskel are almost always interested in fucking their bard (and, to be fair, their bard is always interested in fucking them, and Gaetan definitely wants to know what the hell that non-human bit is because it’s not natural to be able to keep up with one witcher, much less two), and Lambert and Aiden vanish into their room at least once a day and come out smelling sated and smug, but none of them so much as leers in Gaetan’s direction. And they don’t fuck in front of Gaetan, either. And the alphas never even hint that they expect any of the omegas to join them.
Although Lambert does, sometimes, and apparently enjoys the hell out of himself, judging by the smell and the look on his face when they emerge.
Gaetan corners Aiden after the first time Lambert and the alphas go off together and come back smelling like spend and satiation, and demands to know what’s going on.
“Lambert likes getting ploughed sometimes,” Aiden says, shrugging. “It’s damn pretty to watch.”
“...Pretty,” Gaetan says dubiously. He’s seen other omegas getting fucked before, both in the caravan and out of it, and pretty isn’t the word he’d use. Fucking horrific is usually a better descriptor.
“Pretty,” Aiden confirms, grinning, and then he sobers. “Last winter,” he says quietly, “I thought - well, I thought about what you’re thinking now. I didn’t think alphas could be anything but brutal. Fuck knows we’ve met few enough who aren’t knotheads in need of stabbing. But I swear to you, Gae, I have rarely seen anything so pretty as watching those puppies make my beautiful Wolf howl with pleasure.”
Gaetan eyes him warily, but Aiden’s not lying. “Huh,” he says at last. Pretty.
Well, alright. As long as both Aiden and Lambert are happy, Gaetan will take his word for it.
Observation the third: The Wolf Grandmaster rules his pack with an astonishingly even - and astonishingly gentle - hand.
Gaetan doesn’t know quite how to react, the first time Vesemir takes one of the alphas to task for some minor misbehavior, and makes him go run the battlements - three loops at speed.
Half because it’s such a painless punishment, boring but not harmful, and half because it’s exactly the same punishment that he gave Lambert for a similar bit of idiocy.
The same punishment for alphas and omegas.
The same food for alphas and omegas, in the same generous quantities, and no rules about alphas eating first, or getting the finer bits.
The same chores for alphas and omegas, and held to the same standard - or not quite the same chores, but that’s because both Geralt and Lambert are banned from helping with the cooking on account of being terrible at it, though Lambert is a very good baker and Geralt cheerfully washes more than his share of the dishes instead.
It’s all…it’s all incredibly predictable, and Gaetan discovers he’s starting to relax, because he can trust that Vesemir’s not going to fly off the handle and declare one of the omegas outcast for the season, fair prey to anyone who can catch him; or take his ire out on someone during training, thrashing them bloody just to prove he can; or storm off in a snit and let the alphas do whatever they please. Not that Gaetan’s particularly worried anymore about these alphas going vicious if given free rein, but still. It’s. It’s nice, to know from day to day what the Grandmaster is likely to do. To know that there’s another layer of safety here, beside the solid stone and the lock on his bedroom door.
And finally, observation the fourth: Wolf alphas are very, very self-controlled.
It’s easy to miss, because they’re puppies, always roughhousing with each other and anyone else who’s willing to play, always ready to start a prank war or an inadvisable drinking game, always willing to flop down in an enormous puppy pile and cuddle shamelessly. They’re loud and silly and playful and ridiculous, and it would be very, very easy to assume they’re only held in check by their patient Grandmaster. Gaetan almost does assume as much.
And then Lambert goes into heat.
Gaetan is grateful, later, that Lambert’s heat hits earlier than Aiden’s does, because if Aiden’s had come first, even with everything else he’s learned about the Wolves, Gaetan might actually have kidnapped his brother and holed up in a heat room and stabbed anyone who dared to approach, even Lambert. But thank the gods, Lambert’s hits first.
Lambert makes it clear in the days before his heat hits that he wants the alphas there, which is, as far as Gaetan is concerned, stupid but also Lambert’s problem. But then Lambert turns to Gaetan and says, “So, d’you want to watch and make sure nothing goes wrong?”
Gaetan stares at him. Lambert shrugs. “Nothing’s gonna, these fuckers have been seeing me through my heats for decades and they’re fuckin’ good at it, but I figure if you watch ‘em with me you’re less likely to lose your shit if Aiden wants ‘em along too.”
Which is startlingly foresightful of him, actually. “You don’t mind?” Gaetan checks warily.
“Nah,” Lambert says, and grins, and stretches. “Heat’s fun, and I don’t mind showing off.”
Gaetan spends the next several days trying to make the phrase Heat’s fun make any fucking sense at all, and then one morning Lambert comes sauntering down smelling like pre-heat and grinning like a fiend, and Gaetan gathers half a dozen daggers and installs himself in a corner of the heat room Lambert has chosen, preparing himself to see anything from horror to some sort of impossible glory.
What he sees is the alphas and Jaskier coming in with armloads of blankets and furs, arranging them into a startlingly comfortable-looking nest, and then the alphas settle beside it, an arm’s length away, and go into meditation. Jaskier curls up with a notebook, also not in the nest, and they all wait with shocking patience until Lambert comes in, stark naked and stinking of heat, with Aiden beside him. And then they keep waiting while Lambert makes himself comfortable in the nest, while he pulls Aiden down and kisses him ravenously, while he fills the room with the sweet smell of his heat and neither alpha moves.
Not until Lambert says, “Get in here.”
And then - oh, they pounce, sure, eager and hungry, but they take turns. They take turns with Aiden, even, and with Jaskier, and it’s real damn clear that it’s Lambert calling the shots, even when he’s incoherent with his heat. It’s whoever Lambert reaches for that matters.
And it’s not just because Gaetan’s in the room. They’re not paying any attention to him. And Aiden and Jaskier don’t seem startled at all by the alphas’ self-control. This is just…how they are. How they always are.
Heat’s fun, Lambert said. Because his heats are like…like this.
Gaetan slinks out of the room while Lambert’s asleep, Aiden and Jaskier and the alphas all curled around him, and goes padding downstairs with his mind whirling so badly it’s a wonder he doesn’t trip and break his damnfool neck.
Vesemir is in the kitchen, fussing over a pot of applesauce and another of rich broth, and Gaetan sits down at the kitchen table and blurts, “How?”
Vesemir turns and raises an eyebrow at him. “How, what?”
“How do they - how the fuck did you lot train them to not just take?” Gaetan demands. “It’s - fuck, everyone knows alphas can’t resist omegas in heat, and those fuckers were in the same fucking room and they still waited!”
Vesemir heaves a long, weary sigh and pours two mugs of ale and sits down across from Gaetan, pushing a mug across the table to him. “‘Everyone’ is wrong,” he says softly. “We trainers, we got a lot wrong, and I regret much of it, but that much, at least, we got right. We trained all our lads to keep themselves under control. It’s not hard; you just have to start young, and reinforce it often. Giving in to your instincts is a choice. You know as much; you chose, even in your heat, not to call for an alpha.”
Gaetan blinks at him, thoroughly taken aback by the comparison. “I did, yeah,” he admits at last. He just -
He’s suddenly fiercely, furiously angry. It’s possible. It’s possible even for Cats, gods damn it all, because Gaetan can keep himself in check, and so can Aiden, and so can fucking Cedric, and Gaetan’s always thought that was because he was mated but no, it’s just because he bothered to put in the fucking effort, and all the other fucking Cat alphas could have done the same, they could have been as fucking good as the Wolves if they’d just - fucking - tried!
The tankard cracks under his clenching hands, ale spilling out across the table.
Vesemir says, very gently, “We could use some more venison.”
Gaetan nods and stalks out, taking nothing but his knives. He needs to move, needs to run, needs to fucking well kill something, and thank fuck Vesemir seems to have recognized that. Better that Gaetan go take down a deer than that he hurt someone within that keep - one of the very few people in the world who doesn’t deserve his wrath.
If there was a Cat alpha within fifty leagues, though, Gaetan wouldn’t lay a snowball’s chance in hell for their odds of surviving the night.
As it is, possibly taking on a boar by himself in the dark in the middle of winter isn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, but Gaetan kills it without getting mauled, and pork will do as well as venison, and by the time he’s hauled the heavy carcass back to the keep, he’s feeling a lot less murderous, so he’s going to call that a win.
*
Lambert comes out of his heat with a shiny new scar on his shoulder where Aiden’s left his mark, and Gaetan looks at it for a long, long time as they all soak in the hot springs. Not so much because of the bite itself, but because Lambert doesn’t have any others. Oh, he’s got scars aplenty, as any witcher would, but - nobody’s ever tried to claim him. He’s shared his heat with Geralt and Eskel for decades, and they’ve never left their marks on him, never tried to take the omega for their own.
The stark disparity between Lambert’s lack of claiming bites and the scars littering Gaetan and Aiden’s shoulders is…unpleasant.
Infuriating, in fact, but not because of Lambert.
None of the bites on Gaetan or Aiden ever took, of course, because it takes a while for any bond to settle, and all the Cat omegas got very, very good at helping each other cauterize the bites before the bond could take.
Gaetan can almost feel the hot knife against his flesh as he watches Lambert arch his throat to show off the new scar. Aiden leans in to nose at it and press kisses against the tender skin. Fuck. What would it be like to get a claiming bite because he wanted it?
Not that there’s anyone in the world Gaetan currently wants to be claimed by, but still. Lambert looks so damn smug, and Aiden -
“You gonna let him bite you?” Gaetan asks, voice harsher than he meant it to be.
“Yes,” Aiden says, meeting his eyes squarely. “I am.”
Gaetan swallows, reaching up without thinking about it to press his fingers to the worst of his burned-over scars - fucking Brehen, he’s so fucking glad Aiden’s taken that bastard out of the world - and pressing down until he’s probably going to leave bruises on his own skin. “Even - after?”
“Even after,” Aiden says, raising a hand to brush his fingers over some of his own scars. Lambert makes a soft, pained noise and leans over to kiss Aiden’s fingertips, which is so fucking absurdly sweet that Gaetan has to ignore it for his own sanity’s sake.
“Fucking Cats,” Eskel says, with a surprising amount of venom in his voice - Gaetan’s never actually heard the easygoing alpha sound so angry. “Present company very much excepted.”
“Present company agrees with you wholeheartedly,” Aiden says wryly.
“Shit,” Geralt says quietly. “Those are all claiming bites, aren’t they.”
Gaetan and Aiden nod. Jaskier makes a little noise like he’s about to be sick. Vesemir actually growls, low in his throat, a threat that Gaetan has forgotten how to fear.
Lambert sighs and tugs Aiden into his lap, propping his chin on Aiden’s shoulder. “That mean you’re not gonna fuss about us having killed the bastard who put some of those there, old man?”
“It does,” Vesemir says softly. “There are too few witchers left, but that does not mean allowing such viciousness to continue.”
“Good,” Lambert says softly.
Gaetan wholeheartedly agrees.
*
He leaves Kaer Morhen in the brisk chill of a mountain spring, walking next to Eskel with the alpha’s big good-natured stallion following them obediently. They’ll be parting at the base of the mountains; Gaetan’s planning to go south towards Aedirn, and Eskel north to Kovir. But Gaetan is well-fed and healthy, strong and sturdy as he has not been in years, with a belt laden with silver and steel knives and a pack full of high-quality potions and thick, warm clothing that hasn’t been mended a dozen times. He’s feeling better than he ever has after winter before - better than he usually does at midsummer, for that matter. Better than he has in decades, perhaps.
“Will you come back next year?” Eskel asks.
“Will I be welcome?” Gaetan checks.
“Sure,” Eskel says, grinning down at him. “You’re pack. And you’re good company.”
Gaetan takes a deep breath of crisp mountain air. “Ain’t never gonna let you knot me, you know.”
“I figured,” Eskel agrees easily. “Doesn’t bother me any. Doesn’t bother Geralt, either. Our brother Gardis, he was like you, I think. Didn’t like alphas. Paired up with a beta for his heats.” He shrugs. “It made him happy, so we were happy.”
“Oh,” Gaetan says, boggling a little. He’d sort of assumed he was just weird, but…huh. There was a Wolf like him, once.
He doesn’t ask what happened to Gardis. It was either the Path or the Tournament, and he doesn’t really want to know which.
“Well then,” he says instead. “If I’m welcome, then…yeah. I’ll be back next winter.” He grins up at Eskel. “You should be careful, you know. Once you feed a cat, they never leave.”
Eskel laughs. “Eh, the old ruin’s got enough room for a runty little kit like you,” he teases.
“Runty,” Gaetan mutters. “Just because we’re not all fucking slabs of muscle like you, you great ridiculous hulk -”
Eskel’s laugh is rich and warm, and Gaetan keeps muttering because it makes Eskel keep laughing, and is this -
Well, hell, is this what having an alpha brother is supposed to be like? Someone to trust and laugh with and not fear?
They part at the base of the Trail with a brief, tight embrace, and Gaetan goes out on the Path feeling like he can face down anything at all.