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The first time Aiden and Lambert arrange to go their separate ways and meet up again later, Lambert says, “If you’re not there by Midaete, I’m gone.” Aiden doesn’t believe him. In his experience, time is a flexible thing; surely a few days one way or t’other won’t make a difference.
He is therefore very surprised to arrive in the sleepy little town of Burdoff a few days after Midaete, having gotten distracted by a half a dozen things along the way, only to learn from the innkeeper that ‘that grouchy fellow’ has been and gone.
It takes Aiden a week to hunt Lambert down, and he’s more than a little out of sorts when he does. Lambert listens to his whole rant with a scowl on his face, then snorts and shakes his head. “Time and tide wait for no man, grimalkin, and neither do I. Why the fuck would I spend more time in a shitheap like Burdoff than I’ve gotta? If I say I’m leaving the day after Midaete, I mean it.”
Which is a hell of a thing to have to get used to, but Aiden really does like traveling with Lambert. The Wolf is hot-tempered and foul-mouthed and a terrible cook, and he’s also loyal as sunrise and gorgeous with a sword in hand and the best alchemist Aiden has ever met. He’s got layers, which is dangerous, because Aiden is as curious as his School’s namesake, and Lambert is an endless, glorious puzzle.
So Aiden learns to keep better track of time and not get distracted when he’s out on the Path by himself, and Lambert, after the third time Aiden doesn’t make it to their scheduled rendezvous but really did try, starts leaving an extra day of grace period, though Aiden doesn’t think Lambert knows Aiden knows he’s doing that. Which is just like the Wolf, to pretend to be a complete asshole while secretly being kind.
(Aiden figures it out after he shows up late again, though it really genuinely wasn’t his fault this time - the bridge was washed out and he had to go twenty miles out of his way to the next ford - and discovers Lambert is still in town because he “forgot to get his horse re-shod”, as though Lambert doesn’t get Horse’s shoes done every new moon, reliable as clockwork.)
And that works for them for the better part of three decades, actually. They part to find contracts or to join their Schools for the winter, and they meet up again and travel together, and it’s good. They fight well together, and Lambert makes potions for both of them, and Aiden cooks, and they patch each other up as needed, and fill their days with banter and laughter and Lambert’s glorious multilingual rants and Aiden’s own rambling stream of thoughts, and get drunk together on whatever strong liquor they can find, and fleece half the Continent at Gwent.
And once Aiden manages to convince Lambert he really means his propositions, they fill their nights with enthusiastic fucking. Lambert is a delight in bed, fierce and flexible and willing to try almost anything once, and Aiden -
Well, Aiden is madly in love, but he knows better than to say it aloud, because the one thing Lambert is not brave as a young lion about is any emotion other than anger. And Aiden has no interest in watching Lambert run away. He’d find the Wolf again, of course, but it would be unpleasant for everyone involved, and this way is easier.
Only now he’s rather wishing he had said something, because he’s very, very, very late to their usual spring meeting in Ellander, and he knows, knows down to the bones of him, that Lambert, who never thinks anyone will genuinely want to keep him around, will have decided that Aiden is bored with their relationship and gone off on his Path in a truly foul mood, and even if Aiden does manage to get out of this fucking cage, the chances that he’ll be able to find one Wolf witcher in the vastness of the Continent are really distressingly small.
Worrying about that is at least a distraction from being in a fucking cage.
Aiden does another loop of the cage, testing each of the bars in turn just in case one of them has miraculously come loose since the last time he did this, half an hour ago, and then attempts to cast Igni, just in case the dimeritium collar has stopped working in the last half an hour, and then flops down in a corner of the cage with a miserable sigh. The wagon rumbles over a rut in the road, throwing Aiden against the bars; he grunts and shoves himself back into the corner, grumbling some of Lambert’s favorite Gnomish curses under his breath. He doesn’t know where he’s being taken, but he’s guessing he’s not going to enjoy whatever awaits him there. Gladiatorial combat if he’s lucky; a mage with a penchant for experiments, if he’s not.
Gladiatorial combat will be easier to escape from, so he’s hoping for that. Or some idiot noble who wants a pet witcher. Just…not a mage. He really does not want to have to deal with a mage.
The wagon rattles on, and Aiden sighs and gets up to do some stretching and bodyweight exercises, because there’s nothing else to do in this fucking cage. He’s about halfway through one of the more complicated routines he learned as a boy, back in Stygga, when the wagon comes to a rather abrupt halt.
He hasn’t heard any of the usual noises of a town outside, and there’s no sound of a river, either, so why are they -
The screaming is a decent indicator that something has gone very, very wrong for the assholes who are transporting him. Unfortunately, depending on what is causing the screaming, there’s a decent chance that this is going to end badly for Aiden, too. If some monster kills all his captors and leaves him trapped here to starve -
Well, it’s not how Aiden wants to go, is all.
He can’t hear a griffin screeching or an endrega clicking, though, and there’s no stench of a fiend or a chort, so maybe it’s bandits, which - well, if Aiden can talk them into letting him out, that could be less catastrophic, but if they decide to sell him themselves then he’s shit out of luck.
The screaming ends with a few awful, wet sounds and the soft thuds of bodies hitting the ground. The wagon creaks as someone steps onto the back of it. Aiden braces himself to learn his fate.
The wagon’s door swings open, and Aiden almost falls over in relief at the familiar silhouette outlined against the sky.
“You get into the weirdest fucking trouble, grimalkin,” Lambert grouses, stepping into the scant space between the door and the cage. His armor is soaked with blood, and there’s a spatter across his face; his eyes are black with what Aiden is guessing is Blizzard or possibly Thunderbolt. His sword is dripping on the wagon’s floor.
He looks like a miracle.
“I swear I meant to be on time,” Aiden says, a little nonsensically.
“Yeah, I know,” Lambert says, with astonishing gentleness, and sticks a bloody key in the cage’s lock. “Come on, let’s get you out of there.”
Aiden stumbles out of the cage and throws his arms around Lambert, never mind the blood, to kiss him fervently. Lambert wraps an arm around Aiden’s waist to pull him closer and kisses back, hard.
It’s the heady mix of relief and rising lust and shocked joy that loosens Aiden’s tongue, and as their lips part, he blurts - entirely without meaning to - “I fucking love you, you know that, right?”
Lambert blinks several times. “I…yeah, grimalkin, I know,” he says, giving Aiden a crooked smile. “You talk in your cups.”
Aiden blinks. “I do?”
“Yep.” Lambert shrugs. “Got my panic out of the way years ago, that night we had that plum wine.”
Aiden remembers that night - well, some of it. It was really good plum wine. And he remembers Lambert being oddly squirrely for almost a week afterwards. Which…if Aiden did confess his feelings then, that does explain that.
“Oh. Well. That’s…anticlimactic,” Aiden says, feeling distinctly off-balance.
Lambert snorts. “I rescue you from fuckin’ slavers and it’s not dramatic enough? Fine, let’s do this.” And to Aiden’s shock he picks Aiden up in one arm, jumps down out of the wagon, and dips Aiden to kiss him deeply.
“Love you too, you idiot,” he says as he lets Aiden up for air. “Now come help me figure out which of these dead assholes has the key to that fucking collar.”
Aiden throws his arms around Lambert’s neck and pulls him down for one more kiss, laughing with relief and overwhelming joy.
Time and tide wait for no man, and neither does Lambert…but Lambert came looking, and that’s better than waiting by far.