This Ain't a Fuckin Fairytale

by DaniDanny

Summary:

A moment of vulnerability between Aiden and Lambert, at the close of a prosperous year. It's the ending, and a new beginning. The hurt part before the fix-it. Rated mature for themes, no smut content. Contains Witcher 3: Wild Hunt spoilers in 2nd chapter.

Notes:

The year is 1269, long enough after the second Northern War. It looks like, perhaps, peace will endure. As of Aiden's departure in Spring, the Dyn Marv Caravan still roams. Our dynamic duo have been hunting together for most of the season, after meeting up unexpectedly and teaming up to make the best of a shitty situation.

The first amber touches of autumn are turning the forests a vibrant cacophony of color. Lambert and Aiden are camping in one such patch of forest in southern Temeria near Brenna, having just finished a Leshen contract together. It is a small clearing where a brief attempt had been made to harvest lumber, several stumps and fallen trees around them. Their gear is, for once, in good repair; their supplies, full. Lambert sits on a small stump by an unlit fire pit, scribbling away in his notebook in the fading afternoon light. Aiden is checking the stitching on some new repairs to his armor, in his shirtsleeves despite the cool air. All is quiet, save for the ambient calls of small forest critters and gentle rustling of the canopy in a light breeze. A rare moment of relative safety and comfort, on the Path.

Chapter 1: Evenfall

Summary:

Aiden hopes for a brighter future.

"You ever thought about what you might do, you know, after this?"

Lambert looked up from his notebook at that, raising an eyebrow. Aiden had already finished cleaning his gear, and was looking off into the distance, past the edge of the copse of trees where they'd camped. He was fidgeting with one of his gloves, and had a funny look on his face, like how he looked at Lambert when he thought he wasn't looking, something soft and warm, tinged with sadness. His tone was as distant as his gaze, and though Lambert didn't say anything, he continued.

"There's not... There's not a lot of us left, I know, but monsters are getting few and far between. Some of the Cats from the Caravan split off and. Well. Not everyone disappeared the same way. Some of us went solo and got tangled up in politics, some of us found friends elsewhere -"

He caught Lambert's inquisitive look, and held it, his mouth now a grim line.

"We all expect to die on the job. I know, you know, both of our Schools hammered it into us. But times are changing. What if,"

He hesitated, looking down and picking at a seam in his glove,

"...Have you ever... Maybe? I... Not retirement, not exactly, but."

Aiden paused for a deep breath, rolling his shoulders as though he'd just set down a great weight. A hopeful smile snuck into his face, and as he kept going, warmth bloomed unbidden in his chest as Lambert caught Aiden's contagious energy.

"There's more to life than contract after contract, more things to do out there. With, with your skill at brewing, you could settle down and make beer, vodka, distillates! and keep tinkering, there's endless possibilities there..."

He laughed and smiled broadly, and his ears turned rosy. Now that was interesting... Lambert finally closed the notes he'd been working on and turned on the tree stump to face him fully, trying to keep his expression open. Operative word being trying, as Aiden winced a bit when he looked back up to meet Lambert's eyes.

"Go on, I'm listening."

"I've uh, I've made it through more than a couple winters in some, uh. Well, you know I like to. Um. I'm pretty good at... Ah, agh... Why is this so fucking hard to..."

Aiden lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration, and Lambert tried not to frown. His face must've still puckered a bit, since Aiden looked crestfallen when he met his eye again. Lambert quirked an eyebrow up and brought both hands up in a placating gesture.

"No no, Aiden, I'm not going to stop you. I just don't get what you're saying. Besides, it's not like I've... Uh. Hm."

He scratched his chin - agh, he needed to shave again soon - and trailed off, doing some math in his head on distilling equipment, since his primary kit was pretty much stationary at the keep. Maybe, yeah... They'd been pretty efficient working together, and there were a couple favors he could pull to get some space to work just outside Oxenfurt... Aiden broke that ponderous silence.

"Ifuckformoney. Sometimes. I mean. Uh. I, there's this place down south in Toussaint, the madam there, uh. Yeah. Lamb? Lamb. What. Please, I--"

Lambert was blinking up at Aiden owlishly, trying to put two and two together while still stuck on materials calculations, and it felt like he didn't have half a brain at the moment. A smile tickled at the corner of his mouth and spread into a lopsided, rather surprised smirk as he caught up. Aiden huffed at him and whirled around, sitting down heavily on the fallen log next to the stump where Lambert sat. He groaned and dropped his head into his hands, covering his face. His ears were livid and his words came tumbling out of him, hurried and plaintive.

"Fuck it, I don't fucking know why I thought this was ever a good fucking idea, you know what? Forget I said anything, ther-"

"Woah slow down Aiden, hoooold your horses there."

He scooted closer and took hold of Aiden's hands, lifting them away from his face, and Aiden looked him in the eye again. Ah fuck, he looked on the verge of tears and angry, grimacing at him.

"Okay. Uh, one, no I'm not ... Mad? At you? And two, I just." He sighed, and looked down at their hands, giving them a squeeze, "I just never gave it much thought. I didn't. But I want to." He looked up at Aiden again, meeting his eyes, "with you."

Notes:

And here we take an abrupt turn to first person narration, so be ready for that tonal shift and a gut punch. This following chapter covers a significant time skip, plus Witcher 3 spoilers.