#lambert imagine
Gwent 2- Witcher Lambert
Request: “Hello my dear! I just read the Gwent fic with Lambert and I was curious if you would write a second part? I loved it and the ending made me curious about what might happen the next morning with Lambert talking to Jaskier, the other witchers reactions to lambert losing his clothes in the game etc. I would love to read it! Thank your for sharing your wonderful writing!”
AN//Thank you!!! I really hope you like this! It took me a bit to actually think of a plot, but I enjoyed writing it. Thank you very much for spending time reading and requesting! And double thank you for the kind words : ) Much love!
Lambert x F!reader (Game/books in mind, but no spoilers and can be replaced by Netflix Lamb ig)
Language warning?
Part 1 - can be read without but first part recommended
Cards. Cards are everywhere. It was as if a Gwent elemental had formed, and Lambert had fought tooth, nail, and… shirt to keep it at bay. Eskel hadn’t even meant to stop, but the whirlwind that is Lambert distracted him from his morning goat duties. When the bulkier witcher finally made it to the table, there was a lot to take in.
His youngest brother had his trousers on, unlaced, with his shirt laying on the edge of the table. From what inventory Eskel could gather, Lambert’s entire collection laid out in unorganized piles around them. Some on the table, some on the bench. Brows rose when he noticed the smaller, haphazardly strewn about pile on the floor. Once, when Lambert caught Geralt doing the same thing, and the younger practically had a mental breakdown, going on about ‘card abuse’ and ‘disrespecting the game’. Their human friend’s cards laid in a nice pile, faced down.
“So, it went well last night?” He wasn’t reallyteasing. The large witcher was honest in not understanding the scene in front of him. Sharp eyes flew to his, a sour expression accompanying them. Before Lambert could form a response, a small epiphany flew over his features. Strong hands flew over card piles, quickly rearranging things. Finally, after a few minutes of silence cut by card movement, Lambert finally looked to his brother.
“Why don’t you go entertain the one thing that actually wants you here?” Eskel’s eyes rolled before looking back down at the piles, still trying to find the logic in them. He knelt down by the pile on the floor, fingers gently tapping them around to see them all.
“You do know women don’t find an innate need to beat them at cards charming? Maybe-.”
“When you actually find someone, then I’ll listen. All courting knowledge you have is from those dumb books you haul back every year.”
“Wow, look at this.” The bard’s voice cut the two witchers short. His slimmer frame found itself across the table from the young witcher, arms resting around Y/n’s deck that lay there. Geralt quietly slides in next to him, steady hand reaching for said deck.
“Finally, someone I can talk to!” All eyes flew to his form in shock. Eskel’s hands also went up slightly in mock offense. Jaskier looked bashful for once, but excitement bubbled in his eyes. If it was what he was hoping for, winter is about to get so much more fun. Geralt was looking at Eskel, smirk on his face before looking back to Lambert. Said man was looking to him, eyes showing betrayal. “Geralt. You’re better than that.” The White Wolf’s body seized and froze.
“What?”
Lambert’s finger jabbed in the direction of Geralt’s held out hand. His fingers where barely grazing Y/n’s deck but to Lambert it was like spitting on it.
“You don’t look at other people’s deck, dumbass. It’s rude.” There was a single moment of silence before laughter erupted around him. Lambert grumbled under his breath before looking to his cards. Once the poet across from him settled down, Lambert looked to him once more. “Buttercup and I have some private business.” Eskel scoffed, looking up from his still crouched position near the floor cards.
“We’d be more inclined to leave if you just asked.” Lambert remained seated, but he twisted his upper body to face his older brother.
“I’d be more inclined to shove my foot up your-.” Again, the poet’s voice cut their conversation short.
“Lambert, I would love to hear what you have to say.” Blue eyes flew to Eskel, and his elbow gently jabbed the wolf that lingered close to his side. Geralt grumbled but he stood. He meandered his way towards the kitchens mentioning grabbing breakfast for himself. Eskel was still hesitant, ready to tease the younger witcher more, but the bard’s eyes were pleading. The large witcher sighed, conceding only for Y/n’s sake. He knew how much the human yearned, and he only wanted her to be happy. Even if it was with a fool like his little brother.
Once Lambert knew all other parties were out of ear shot, he nodded to the man across from him. The bard leaned back, motioning his hands in no certain direction, showing Lambert had the floor. A moment ago, he had all the courage and pride as his normal self, but now all he felt was vulnerability.
“Well, uh, obviously…” he trailed. He waved a hand in the air as though it would conjure the sentence for him. “You understand how courting works.” Jaskier had once again leaned over the table, trying to show his full attention was to this matter. Though, he wasn’t too helpful, as he simply agreed with the sentence. “So, that means you would know how one would go about beginning the process.”
“Another astute observation.” The bard took pity to the desperation behind those sharp, yellow eyes. He gave a small smile before leaning in even further, dropping his voice to just above a gentle whisper. “You already have her attention. More than that, it seems. Y/n isn’t a noble or some all-powerful sorceress.”
Lambert looked like he was at the edge of his seat, eyes beckoning him to continue.
“You have the freedom to court her however you see fit, really. You don’t need to worry about meeting families or failing to impress her. Simply prove your value in your relationship.” Lambert’s fingers rub against his hairline, trying not to get frustrated.
“But we aren’t in a relationship.” The bard nodded, showing that he was willing to sit and explain anything for the better of his friend.
“I understand, but you want to be. Show her what you would bring to the table. She knows the path is hard and dangerous. You would only have each other to rely on out there, and there needs to be trust and understanding in the other’s ability.” They sit in silence for a moment.
“That doesn’t sound romantic.” Even Lambert did a double-take to what had left his own mouth. At this point, there was no need to lie about what the witcher needed to know or was seeking. Jaskier gave a large grin.
“Just the act of giving, the thought that you cared enough to do something for her, should be enough. Like if you were cold, and Y/n went out of her way or sacrificed something so you could be warm. She is showing her value as well as showing she cares for your wellbeing.” Jaskier didn’t understand why or where the bashful look on Lambert’s face came from, but he could tell the witcher now understood. He gave one last smile and nod before standing. “Come back to me when you need help asking her to travel the path with you.” Before Lambert could stutter out a response, the bard all but skipped to the kitchens.
There Lambert sat, no other witcher or companion bugging him or his thoughts. Mentally, he was trying to compile a list of things to prove value. Then there was the subsection of ‘possibly romantic’ things of value. Another list was a recollection of needs she has voiced in the past. The witcher also wasn’t done compiling this new deck….
Y/n had gently walked in, trying to avoid any natural light that passed through the windows. Fatigue still lingered in her form, but Lambert was too focused on her to actually notice her presence.
“Still in only your pants?” Her voice was gentle, but the witcher flinched regardless. As his eyes met hers, everything sly or charming slipped his mind. All topics talked about with Jaskier had also departed, leaving his mouth flapping like a fish. His eyes went to look anywhere else before landing on the cards everywhere.
“I have a new deck!” He forced it out like a child showing his mother a cool worm they found. A smile spread as she sat where the bard previously was.
“Perfect. I need some practice in on my competition deck. The Passiflora is having one a few weeks into spring.” All of the time Lambert spent trying to calculate every move she made in response to his deck flew out the window. It seems like his strategy to try and predict her movements was a bust. His witcher senses started tingling when he felt air shifting around the corner at the edge of the hall. Jaskier stood, half hidden, brows raised. His eyes were wide, and arms gesturing frantically to Y/n. Lambert couldn’t make out too much of what the poet was mouthing, but he picked up ‘practice’ and ‘go for it’. Practice… Y/n needs to practice… Y/n needsto practice. She has a need, and she’s practically enlisted his help. Lambert could do that. He won’t win, but he would be a great dummy opponent. Lambert took another moment to gather himself before responded mechanically and hesitantly.
“If you need practice… I would..love..to…help you improve your game.” His eyes quickly darted to the bard for the moment, trying to ignore both their rapidly beating hearts. This time, the bard is mouthing ‘compliment’ with a thumbs up, and a wave of the other hand to continue. “Not that you needpractice, cause you’re, uh, good at the game.” His voice trailed off at the end, his mental scolding and cringing starting before the sentence finished leaving his mouth. Lambert’s head was ducked slightly, and his eyes darted to hers through thick lashes. Y/n’s skin flushed, hands fiddling with her own deck sitting on the table. A smell of warmth and joy wafted from her in waves, and Lambert tried desperately to keep his smile inwards.
“Perfect. I was going to help Vesemir in the greenhouse, but would you be free to play this afternoon?”
“Of course.” He, in fact, wasn’t. The young witcher promised to help with repairs, as he took yesterday afternoon off as well. Lambert was mentally preparing himself to ask his brothers to cover for him, though he knows there will be some form of hell to pay. In the grand scheme of things though, he would spend more time with his favorite human, and that’s all that matters.
Eskel Blurbs 2
AN/// Here’s another one. Some people seemed to like the other, so here I am! Check out my masterlist, I’ve written quite a few full fics for Witcher, so check them out : )
–X—-
People bustled about outside of the inn, muted footsteps tuned out over an hour ago. bodies littered few and far between below the Witcher’s shared room, none coming near the room itself. Overall, it was quite peaceful. His muscles worked through a familiar pattern, the mindless moving of the whetstone adding to the calm. The wolf’s companion had set out through the market before he had started, and only recently did he finally reacclimate to being alone. For a split moment, minutes after the healer had left, the Witcher turned to empty air after expecting a reply.
It was a shocking realization. With all of his heightened senses, noting objects and people around him was easier than breathing. Eskel had simply… expectedY/n to be there. He was quick to turn to sword repair, as the chore would be a great distraction from the embarrassing moment.
He hadn’t paid much attention to the clock, Y/n being one to take her time shopping. Months ago, when she had first suggested to go to market alone, he was silently thrilled. The Witcher hated the feeling of lingering eyes and unjust anger. Though, that relief was accompanied by fear after remembering how dangerous large city markets can be.
Y/n, however, is a grown adult. Eskel had no right or claim to her, and the Witcher constantly scolded himself for thinking otherwise. There was no reason to have his thoughts linger on her absence. Sure, they’ve traveled together for over half a year, but that doesn’t mean much to most. Even if it meant the world to him.
Eskel felt his heartbeat pick up just a fraction as he recognized the footsteps that ascended the stairs. His eyes darted around the room looking for anything that might make him seem ‘interesting’ before shocking himself out of that line of thinking. Look interesting? Oh, sweet Melitele. This was somehow a new low in the Witcher’s mind. That was something Lambertwould think. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of being his younger brother before looking to his hands. He was a monster killing mutant who was sharpening a sword, he should already seem interesting!
The key was loud as it unlocked the door, and a firm kick pushed the door open. As the wolf watched, he was surprised she even unlocked the door with how full her hands were. The healer had emptied her bag to shove their large share of dirty laundry instead. Eskel could tell from the soft smell that the large bag on her shoulder’s was filled with finally clean clothes. A thin potato sack turned bag was bursting at the seams. Wrapped hard jerky was somewhere between some books towards the bottom, and glass vials on top. Other vegetables packed in around those items, the pressure just enough to keep everything in the sack ‘just so’. In her hands, Eskel’s steel sword, as well as some other just repaired weapons. It wasn’t until she fully stepped into the room that the Witcher noticed familiar ingredients gently laying in a gathering basket hanging from her other arm.
Healing was a difficult profession, and few can reach a level such as Y/n. The wolf was aware of her healing talents, which was the exact reason why he asked for her assistance all those months ago. Life has been long for the Witcher, but he was sure that despite Y/n’s shorter time, there was much to learn about her. So, for her to walk in with elixir ingredients, he was a bit taken back. He wasn’t sure how much Witcher information his brothers have divulged to others, but Eskel hadn’t said a word. He supposed he was the best out of all of them that could keep a secret, though he also suspected the scars helped. If no one comes to you for information, who do you have to tell?
“Market was packed. I’m glad we checked in on the smithy yesterday.” Slit-pupil eyes tracked every movement she made. Everything was set down and organized in a gentle manner as she prattled on about said market. By the time she was settled on the floor, she hadn’t mentioned a thing about the ingredients. With Y/n on the floor, the bed sat between them, and allowed Eskel to look around freely without suspicion. The basket laid gently by his bag that lay by the wardrobe. For a moment, he thought the items were just a coincidence. Y/n is a healer and is currently sitting on the floor refilling her own supplies. She never once makes a move towards it.
After a long mental debate, Eskel tries to get up as nonchalant as possible. His mouth feels somewhat dry, and his swallow is almost audible. As he spoke, he mechanically put away his things,
“Do you need anything from this basket?” Her head popped up like a prairie dog from the ground. Bright eyes shined in the bright orange light pouring from the window behind him. A small, calm smile was offered to him.
“No thanks. I saw that you were low on some things.” Y/n’s head slowly sunk back behind the bed before it shot up again, eyes this time widened by embarrassment. “Not that I look through your things!” A weird, humorless laugh puttered out at the end. She waved in the general direction of his armor, eyes flying back to whatever she was doing on the floor before popping back again. “I noticed that when you’re low on supplies, you don’t refill your pouch right away.”
The reason she knew why it was low this time was a painful one. Wights were old and rare, curses and hate bringing them to live. It had been powerful, feeding off large bears and elk for years. As well as any passer by unfortunate enough to be so far into the woods. To say he had received everything he gave was an understatement. The Witcher struggled to get back to Scorpion, let alone camp. It was only after the healer came to find him that he made it to safety. Eskel knew she would come somehow, and he counted his lucky stars she was suspicious. In any other case, he most likely would have tried to lecture her, as if he failed, she could have been hurt. In the end, he figured a simple ‘thank you’ would suffice. Y/n seamlessly peeled his armor off him that night, a few other close calls before giving her plenty of practice.
“I just guessed at what you needed, but I’m almost certain I got most things right. Maybe not with quantities, but it’s great quality. I can always run back in the morning before we leave.” Another smile was given to him before she disappeared again. The Witcher could tell she was cooking something with the small alchemy pot they had. Whatever it was, it smelled to be a very potent liquid. Eskel nodded to the open air, puckering his lips in thought for just a moment. He turned to the window as though the now setting sun would give him some answers. A hand came up, thumb brushing under his chin. It slowly slid up, so far, fingertips avoiding all scar tissue. Slowly, but less so gently, they scrubbed over the surface of his cheek, fingers barely getting caught by the unevenness. It stopped for a moment as he thought. His eyes traveled down to his bag, then back to the sun. When he came to, his fingers too resumed, though dropped quickly back to his side.
The Witcher had to dig to the bottom of the bag as he made up his mind. Despite remembering most things in life, Eskel made mistakes. That is exactly why he keeps a small, short-hand guide to all potions, essences, and bombs he has ever learned. When he finally found purchase on the pocket-sized book, he pulled, lucky that most things stayed in his bag.
The wolf moved as gently as possible around the bed, an entire little operation in front of him. When he knew he caught the woman’s eye, he flashed the book quickly before setting it down. It was at the edge of the workspace, almost like an offering made to an altar. Despite trying to pour hot liquid into one of their beakers, it seemed like her entire attention was on him. Though, that’s what it always felt like to him.
“We’re not supposed to hand these out, so…” Eskel tapered off. Why did he say it like that? “I mean, if anyone were to be trusted with Witcher secrets… It’s a book of my elixirs, and I thought maybe you’d want to look sometime.” By the time he was done, and he calmed himself from stumbling thoughts, he truly looked at her. What she was doing was discarded to the side. The healer listened intently, a look as if a great responsibility is now bestowed upon her. She gives a curt nod, tone firm and confident.
“I’ll keep it safe.” Her hand reached, grabbing onto it with such care, and it reminded Eskel of how she touches him. Small brushes to the hand here or there. The soft pressure while giving stiches or the gentle manhandling she’s capable of when helping him out of armor. Eskel tried to form the softest smile he could muster as they made eye contact.
“Thank you for the supplies.” He disengaged, but as he looked away, he could see the forming of a blush. It almost made him do a double take, just to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. What was the Witcher thinking? Of course his eyes were playing tricks on him.
—X—
“Women love me, okay.”
The woman’s lips pursed as she slowly left the room. Her eyes were wide, and brows raised in suspicion. Eskel tried to hide his smile, but any fraction of one becomes obvious with the cleft. He shifts over from his spot on the wall to standing next to his younger brother. A large hand reaches, clasping Lambert’s shoulder lovingly.
“It’s not love if you pay for it, bud.” Lambert ripped his shoulder from his brother’s grasp. His lips pulled back to a sneer, and a glare was thrown at the older wolf. Yellow freckled eyes traveled back to the hesitating figure in the doorway, Y/n waiting with a smirk. The healer slipped from the doorway to the corridor without closing the door.
Rage boiled, and Lambert’s finger jabbed the air, pointing to where the human just was. With his finger still raised, somewhat wagging disapprovingly, he stomped to the old oak. Once the door was within arm’s reach, he slammed it shut. The spry man turned, finger now pointing at his brother.
“You keep her in line.” During the stomping, Eskel took a seat on the chest at the edge of the bed. Eskel looked up, raising his hands up in defense. Lambert scoffed, rolling his eyes. He opened the door wide, hand waving to it. “I don’t want you here either.”
A deep rumble floated from the seated Witcher, and slowly came to a crescendo, head lolling back due to laughter.
-X—-
“Months?” The healer’s voice was soft but congested. Winter was fast approaching, and the Witcher was just now dropping the news. He had waited until one of the last major cities before mentioning anything. Or rather, instead of waiting, he has only now found the courage. Eskel could look mothers in the eye to present passing of children or lonely spouses their lover’s body had turned up. For this, the Witcher looked everywhere but her eyes.
He could practically smell the sadness wafting from her. Despite what had grown between them over the year they’ve traveled together, he didn’t think he had any right to bring her to the fort. The tall adult nodded, head hung almost in shame.
“I’m not the only one, and I never had the opportunity to ask.” It was a lie pure and simple. Sure, he didn’t ask, but he was certain that if he did, they’d say no anyways. Despite being a fragile human in a den of Witchers, there are still many risks. Eskel trusts her, and that would mean a lot, but he needs to make sure of things first. Why does she really stay by his side? Looks, money, fame? Just the thought makes him cringe. He was a mutant with nothing. Why is she here?
Eskel Blurbs
AN/// I’m starting to do a same world/timeline collection of blurbs. Here are my first couple! Not beta’d but please enjoy my sleep deprived quick tales!
Eskel X reader fem!
Pt.2 up!
Air forced its way from her lungs out into the cold corridor. The hot springs was still six doors down, but her legs refused to bring her any closer. Burning was familiar after a long day of walking, but after this morning, it has evolved. The burn crept through her core, into her chest, wrapping around her heart and legs. Muscles contracted in her shoulders, her back trying to work overtime to help her diaphragm drag in air. Abs could have formed with how intense the ache was in her stomach. Sweat dripped from her forehead, falling onto the already damp shirt. Stones on the wall the healer leaned on tried desperately to cool her, but to no avail.
After a moment of rest, Y/n finally was able to drag herself back into the middle of the hallway with the intent of bathing. All of the hairs on her arms stood as she felt a presence behind her, though her nerves were quickly smoothed. Then frazzled once more. Her gasping had brought in the familiar scent of hay, leather and that ethereal spice.
The healer’s eyes landed on Eskel’s large form making itself small. Hands hovered over her, hesitant to help. Molten gold churned in his eyes, along with worry as he watches her struggle to catch her breath.
“What were you doing?” Y/n tried desperately to pull herself together, throwing up a thumb over her shoulder to fill the silence. Once she straightened herself, the lovestruck woman tried to give her best nonchalant smile.
“Jaskier invited me to his ‘beauty jog’.” Scars pulled and tightened as his brows flew towards his hairline. Surprise lined the Witcher’s voice as he inquired,
“And you accepted?” A remorseful nod was given with an only slightly sarcastic,
“A mistake on my part.” The wolf chuckled, the notch in his lip making his small smirk look more feral to most. His arm hesitated, but still stuck out towards her, offering itself as a crutch. A small, bashful smile was shown in thanks and acceptance as her arm laced itself around his. He led her towards the baths, his eyes frequently flicking down to catch glimpses.
“Was running something you were hoping for? I assumed you’d prefer to rest through winter.” Embarrassment was clear in her demeanor, though she still answered truthfully.
“Well, the bard was very compelling…” Y/n paused, eyes raking along the stone walls. Or anywhere, really, that wasn’t Eskel. “He was mentioning a few contracts and I got to thinking. I’m there to support you, but how can I do that if I’m slow? You only have forty-eight seconds before melinaw sets in. Melinaw poison is common in the South! Now, I’m not saying you’d lazily stubble into a bush and get poisoned, but it’s a possibility.” At some point in her rambling, they had made it to the door. The wolf looked down with soft eyes, lovingly taking everything in.
Heat pours off her skin, along with the scent of her efforts. Sweat crusted on her forehead, blood still clearly pumping fast throughout her body. The healer’s eyes caught his staring.
“You would run for me? That is commitment.” His voice was somewhat teasing, but also held something so vulnerable. Hope, maybe. Her eyes drop to where Eskel’s heart resided; a small habit the Witcher had noticed a while back.
“Well, if that’s all I had to do to prove commitment, I would have run ages ago.” Tension built, Eskel swallowing hard. His free hand came up to his jaw, his thumb rubbing just under his chin for a moment. After rubbing away whatever fictional thing resided on his chin, he swallowed again, finding courage to respond.
“I would never ask you to.” It seemed the healer lost herself in the cat pupils the Witcher donned. They softened, giving almost a round shape. The black giving a sturdy island in the middle of golden tsunamis.
“Regardless…” she trailed. It didn’t need to be said, as she had said it a thousand times before in thousands of different ways. Eskel’s eyes snapped to the door, gently pulling Y/n out of the way. Loud footsteps approached, and Lambert appeared once the door was thrown open. As he stomped away, he threw back a jab at the two. The snip in his tone, steam rolling off his skin, and small towel all alluded to their conversation interrupting his bath.
“I’m glad I like running. It’s helping me get away from this boring-ass conversation. Maybe you should focus on practicing ‘saying what you mean’.” The older Witcher bristled for only a moment before silently wishing Y/n’s arm didn’t drop his own. Whishing her eyes would peer back up at his once her embarrassment leaves along with his younger brother. He clears his throat after a moment, once more grabbing his muse’s attention.
“I would run. For you, that is.” He gives a closed mouth smile, one he practiced for a long while. One he is convinced make him look ‘less frightening’, not realizing the healer’s love for all of him. The older man gave an almost imperceivable bow of his head before stepping back. “Enjoy your bath. It seems well earned.”
A thought lingered in his mind, something he scolded himself for not being able to verbalize.
“Runner or not, I trust and love you.”
-x—–
Nothing annoyed the feral Witcher more than being in the dark.
Lambert had picked up on Jaskier staring at Y/n a little over ten minutes ago. It seemed that he was the only Witcher in the room that had noticed, and it drove him crazy. The way everyone was positioned in the library, the youngest Witcher was the only one who couldn’t see what Y/n was doing. With her back facing him, he was having difficulty figuring out what was so interesting to the bard. This whole time, he had thought she was reading, as practically everyone else was.
With the rest of the fort being too cold, everyone converged in front of the library’s massive fireplace. Lambert was the closest to the flame; the fire practically kissing his back. He had Gwent cards splayed in front of him, but it seemed some of his space was taken by the bard’s foot. That’s what grabbed the wolf’s attention in the first place. Jaskier’s leg was outstretching slowly as his full attention was on the woman. Every few seconds, the brunet will hunch over his journal, furiously scribbling. Giddiness rolled off the poet in tidal waves, making the older man visibly gag. Jaskier had originally been seated upright next to Lambert, but it seems he had slowly inched his way to have Y/n’s face in view.
Y/n had been seated at one of the cleaner tables in the room. In reality, it was the only clean table in the room. Lambert had been the first one to hunker down. Eskel had wandered in a while later, minutes before his companion. The older wolf swiftly danced around the room, cleaning the books from the table in question, and putting them away. He sacrificed a rag in his pocket to the dust and grime that coated the top, and once it was clean, he still seemed put out. It was only until he quietly lifted the table and moved it the perfect distance away from the fire that he was satisfied. When finished, he flashed a look to Lambert. His eyes were torn between daring the young Witcher to say something and begging him to stay silent. To give mercy.
It ruffled his feathers in a way. Where was his mercy from the stifling lovefest? It’s not fair that the idea of ‘them’ is what everyone was focusing on this winter. Despite that, he swallowed his jests, and silently prayed that him being idle led to a quicker end of their dance.
She had wandered in after the large man plopped himself down on a couch on the far wall. Yen and Geralt had taken to talking on the couch, books open on their lap to keep up appearances. Vesemir fluttered around, seemingly only reading a couple chapters of a given book he picks up before placing it back on the shelf and finding a new one.
Nothing the lovestruck girl did was grabbing the attention of anyone but the bard. But why!?
Lambert gives in, tapping the musicians foot. The bard’s eyes snap to him, almost angry he’s being taken away from the show. A well-placed eyebrow and a pointed finger were all Jaskier needed to start explaining. Though, his response was just as simple. Eyes followed lute calloused fingers as they pointed from the healer at the table to the scarred Witcher. Oh.
Jaskier’s eyes flickered to the entity sitting next to him as he could hear the smirk form. Lambert mouths ‘daydreaming’, to which, he receives a nod. Lambert, too, splays out. He is so confident, that the young Witcher’s bravado caught the attention of the White Wolf. Then, in turn, Yen’s interest.
“Hey, uh, Y/n? You still want to play Gwent tonight?” His tone lazily hid his amusement, but to his pleasure, she didn’t notice. In fact, it seemed her answer was on autopilot. Y/n never backed down from Gwent, and it was the perfect distraction topic.
“Uh-huh.” Lambert finally noticed how she was seated. Her head was in one hand, perfectly angled to be reading with the older Witcher in the background. This was too easy. He preened as another autopilot answer was given to his next question.
“Great. I’ve got some new cards. Hey, isn’t he framed justperfectly in this firelight?” To the vagueness, everyone looked to the two of them. Eskel’s eyes flickered from his brother to Y/n as she gave a curt ‘yeah’. It took the large man’s wide, golden eyes for the healer to process what the Witcher said.
Y/n’s eyes go wide, embarrassment clear on her face. Her eyes fly to the table around her, and her hand mechanically goes to her forehead. With a shaky voice, she announces her departure
“Oh wow, would you look at that? It seems I’ve forgotten my cards back in my room.” The healer quickly snaps her book shut, stumbling out of her chair. To play it off, she turns back to the room, still shuffling backwards towards the door. A thumb is thrown up, pointing over her shoulder, giving her emphasis. “Back to the ol’ room. I’ll, uh, be back.” Y/n threw up a large grin but dropped it when the door is within arm’s reach.
The bard’s foot that was outstretched knocked at Lambert’s closest limb. Jaskier flashed a disappointed look, not voicing his opinion in the same room as Eskel. The young Witcher and bard have had multiple conversations about Eskel and Y/n; the poet begging Lambert to leave their friend’s relationship alone.
–X—
“Why does is it sound like you’re not expecting me back?” Eskel’s large form was framed perfectly in the doorway, the overcast throwing sludge snow towards the earth behind him. Her lips puckered, hands raising, as she lifted herself to her tiptoes. Ever so gently, Y/n brought Eskel’s hood to rest perfectly on his head.
“I trust your skills. Of course I trust you.” The looming figure kept his smile internal as her heartbeat confirmed the statement as true. The healer’s eyes drop, as well as her frame. Her hands hesitate before leaving the hem of the hood. Those same hands found their place upon her hips, then slithered together across her chest. Then, one raked through her hair, until she finally found her voice. “I don’t trust the elements. I mean, look out there! I bet you there isn’t anymore solid footing, and thatis needed.” Pride, bashfulness, joy and love all swelled throughout the Witcher. He simply wished he had the confidence-no, the self-love needed to confess.
Golden eyes catch the light from the nearby torches as they intently look to the woman in front of them. He tried to convey everything he felt in that moment, hoping she understood that he feels the same way.
“I promise to be as vigilant, and as safe as possible. I will return.” She must have picked something up, and she responded with a nod and a somewhat satisfied smile. Y/n takes a small step back, as if reintroducing the rest of the world to their moment.
“Happy hunting.”
