Chapter Text
As thunder and lightning cracked across the sky, rain began to pour down. Lambert cursed softly and clucked to his horse, urging her into a bit of a quicker pace. He’d been hoping to make it to the next village before the storm started up. He held the reigns with one hand while he pulled his cloak tighter around himself with the other. This was just the cherry on top of his shit week. The last contract he’d fulfilled hadn’t paid up, the alderman of the small town laughing in his face when he’d offered to accept a room, a decent meal, and half the coin he’d been promised.
”We’re not housing a mutant here! This isn’t a charity. Go on, before we string you up as a warning to the rest of your kind!”
Rather than tossing a bomb and running for it like he wanted, the witcher had turned on his heel with a growl, mounted his mare, and ridden hard. The man’s cruel laugh had echoed in his ears through the night, granting him no peace when he’d stopped and made camp for the night, and so he hadn’t slept. The next three towns had met him with the same cold hostility, mothers hurrying their children inside and men glaring at him as he rode through. It wasn’t worth his time to stop and see if maybe he could scrounge up any coin from them.
Stupid fucking humans.
Stupid fucking Path.
He’d never asked for this life. He’d never wanted to be taken from his mother, trained and tortured and mutated, then sent to protect the ungrateful world that had abandoned him. His father’s life wasn’t worth this. He’d suffered enough misery at the hands of that whoreson during his young life, wasn’t that enough?
The horse whinnied at a sound coming from his left. He stopped her and listened, absently petting her neck to keep her calm. A couple of yards off, he could hear the definite sound of nekkers.
Stupid fucking irony.
Sighing, he nudged his mare back into a walk. “I promise, we’ll stop soon, I’ll find you a nice stable to rest in, and I’ll even get you an apple. You deserve it, girl.”
The edge of the village wasn’t too far ahead. It was nearing nightfall, and he could see the lanterns being lit, welcoming any who were still stuck out in the rain home. An ache settled in his bones. It would still be a few months before he made the trek back to Kaer Morhen, back to the warmth of spending his evenings with his brothers and their mentor. He’d fall on his own sword before he admitted it to them, but winters in the old keep were his favorite time of year.
Beneath the smell of rain and mud, a softer scent drifted past his nose. A small shop still had a window open, a fresh pie cooling just inside on a table. Lambert’s mouth watered and his stomach protested. He’d been living off what he could catch or forage since essentially being stiffed.
Maybe it was time to give the humans another chance.
He stopped and dismounted, tying his horse to the gatepost, then walked towards the door. He stopped before he could push it open, glancing down at himself. Dirt and mud caked his boots. His cloak was soaked through. Despite the leather armor beneath, he shivered, then pushed the door open.
***
Business had been slow for you today. Despite the days beginning to grow cooler, it seemed no one really wanted to stop in for a cup of tea. You had worked under your mother in the shop for as long as you could remember, and when she’d fallen ill and passed on, you’d taken over sole ownership. You were her only child, and she’d been your only family. Customers were really the only thing staving off loneliness.
The sudden peal of thunder made you jump. Stormy days were always the hardest. No one wanted to be out, travelers seldom passed through, and you couldn’t open the windows to entice your neighbors over for some fresh baked treats.
The smell of apples and sugar browning in the oven warmed your heart, though. You checked the pie, then carefully removed it and placed it on the small table by the window, opening it a bit to let the pie cool. As you glanced up, you noticed others lighting lanterns. Down the road, you could see a dark figure riding atop a horse.
The poor creature, you thought to yourself. You’d always had a soft spot for animals. You hoped the rider would be smart and stop.
Sighing, you turned away and decided to begin the task of closing up for the night. There were dishes to be washed and you would have to get up early to draw water from the well tomorrow. Of course, you also needed to settle the matter of dinner. However, the sound of hooves stopping drew your attention back to the door.
After a tense moment, the door banged open and the dark figure stepped into your shop. They pushed their hood back, revealing a handsome face graced with distinctly golden eyes. The silver wolf’s head medallion glinted in the light of your lamps. You’d grown up hearing stories about witchers. The villagers never trusted them, claiming them to be untamed and violent, though you’d also heard that their purpose in life was to protect humans from the evil creatures that littered the continent.
“Master Witcher,” you greeted him with a smile, “welcome to the Sugar and Spice Shop. The weather’s dreadful, so if you’d like, there’s a small stable out back where you can shelter your horse.” You received a grunt in reply, watching a strange expression flicker over his face. He turned without a word. “I’ll put a kettle on for you,” you call after him.
***
Everything about this shop was strange. From the owner to the greeting to the lack of stench of fear. Lambert wanted to demand why the woman wasn’t afraid, but…well, he also wanted to know why she wore pants and a jerkin, and why she smelled so nice. Instead, he marched right back out the door to take care of his mare. It wouldn’t do to leave the loyal girl out there in the storm.
He untied her and led her around back, finding the small stable with ease. The cow currently residing there looked up, then went back to her hay. Lambert got his horse into the free stall and quickly untacked the saddle, then brushed her down with care. Once that was taken care of, he glanced around and spotted an old blanket folded in the corner. He grabbed it and threw it across the mare’s back. Then he pulled an apple from his pack and fed it to her.
“I think we’ll be safe here, girl,” he said, more to himself than the horse. She nickered softly in reply.
With his horse settled, Lambert returned to the warmth of the little shop. A bowl of steaming stew had been placed on one of the tables near the counter, alongside a cup of tea and a roll of bread. It smelled hearty and made his stomach growl.
“It’s not poisoned, is it?” he asked, eyeing the woman skeptically.
A soft, almost musical laugh poured from her mouth. “No, sir, I wouldn’t dare. I prepared this stew for dinner. You must be hungry, please, sit and tuck in!”
“I can’t pay you.”
The woman turned around to ladle out a bowl for herself. “I’m grateful just to have the company.”
Lambert scoffed, but sat down and gave the stew another sniff. “You’re a brave woman, huh?”
“Not a woman,” the owner shook their head. “Not really a man, either.” Lambert tensed, waiting to be told the owner was some sort of magical being. “I’m simply…me? I’ve never felt strictly one or the other, and my mother never pestered me into settling down to be some traditional woman. She understood I was a free spirit.” The tension left his shoulders. They were human.
“Must’ve been nice,” he groused around a mouthful of vegetables.
They shrugged, taking a sip from their own cup. “Only because of my mother’s love and support. Never got on well with the other children.”
Maybe that’s why they weren’t afraid. They knew what ostracization felt like. He ate quietly, tearing into the roll and dipping it into the stew to eat it. The human wanted to ask questions, Lambert could sense that much, but they kept quiet as the pair ate. Perhaps they weren’t as brave as he thought? Maybe he should make the effort to lighten the mood. Wouldn’t do to have the owner tense after their kindness.
“Y’know,” he said, voice adopting a more suave tone, “I could…pay you in other ways. If you were amenable~”
***
The witcher was quiet as he ate, and, sensing his weariness, you didn’t pry. He was intriguing. From the two big swords he’d left by the door, to the scars down the side of his face, to the way he greedily wolfed down what you’d served. It did warm your heart to see him eating so happily. A tiny hint of a smile even graced his lips as he neared the bottom of his bowl.
Suddenly, he broke the silence. “Y’know, I could…pay you in other ways. If you were amenable~”
The tone he used made you shiver pleasantly. His meaning wasn’t lost on you. “Master Witcher, while I’m…flattered…I don’t even know your name~ Besides, I told you, I’m grateful just for the company.”
He huffed and rolled his eyes. Likely, he was just looking for an easy lay. Rather than let him keep entertaining the idea, you walked over to grab the pie and began cutting a slice to place on a plate. You replaced his bowl with it, then dropped both your bowls with the other dirty dishes near the sink. You’d have enough water to get through the washing, at least.
“Tell you what, after dessert, I’ll wash and you dry. Sound fair enough?” you asked, jerking your head to the pile of dishes as you cut yourself a slice.
“Sure,” he said, slightly disappointed. The sour look didn’t stay on his face for long. Your pie replaced that with the first bite. He hummed and let his shoulders droop, tension visibly leaving him. “Okay, really? This? This is good. Helping you do the dishes isn’t enough.”
You raised an eyebrow at him, a small smile playing at your lips. “Then you can wash them, as well. If that’s still not enough, I could probably use your help in the morning. Big, strong witcher like you could make short work out of drawing water from the well~”
A light shade of pink dusted his cheeks as he took another bite of pie. “’s Lambert,” he said around the mouthful, then swallowed. “My name, it’s Lambert.”
“I’m [Y/N]. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lambert.” He gave you a funny look at that.
“First time I’ve been told that,” he remarked, stuffing another bite into his mouth and looking away.
It was true, though. You’d always wanted to meet a witcher, and tonight, one had shown up on your doorstep. A handsome one, at that. As much as you’d like to take him up on his offer, it…felt wrong. He looked like he needed a bath and a good night’s sleep, not a fling. Much like your mother, you felt drawn to take care of those in need.
“I’m afraid with the storm, I can’t go draw water for a bath, but I can get some for you to wash up a bit. Washing the dishes will take care of your hands, of course. You’ll be welcome to bathe in the morning while I prepare for the day’s business. Hopefully, the storm will have passed by then. I’ve a spare room upstairs. You’re welcome to use it,” you explained. Once your slice was finished off, you rose to add your plate and fork to the pile, then covered the rest of the pie. As you turned back around, you saw that Lambert had finished as well. He was leaned back, hands laced behind his head and eyes closed.
“That was the best meal I’ve had in ages,” he praised, and there was that smooth tone again.
“Yes, well, I’ll go fix up the wash basin for you. Those dishes won’t do themselves~” you called, quickly walking off towards the stairs. A warmth was settling in your gut already, and that couldn’t be good news. The witcher was too tempting. You'd have to keep your wits about you around this one.