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“Get down!” a voice called, and Lambert fell to the ground, just in time for a blast of fire to fly over his head, singeing the top of his hair.
The griffin that Lambert had been fighting let out one last pitiful shriek then collapsed, feathers floating around its head. Lambert rolled onto his back, exhausted and sore, the wound in his arm bleeding sluggishly, slowing his sword movements down.
Another few moments and the griffin would have overpowered him.
“Fuck,” he groaned, covering his eyes with gloved and bloodied hands. When he opened them he had been expecting to see a sorceress, maybe the purple eyes of Geralt’s Yennefer. The voice he’d heard had definitely sounded female.
Now he wasn’t so sure. The person staring down at him was a witcher, slitted golden eyes giving them away, but under their armour there was the definite shape of breasts, a silver cat head resting between them. Long dark hair was pulled back into a bun, and their eyes were lined in kohl. Lambert was… confused.
“Umm…” he mumbled, scratching at the stubble on his cheeks, “hi?”
The stranger cocked their head and smirked, flipping a bloody dagger in one hand. “Name’s Aiden, and you’re welcome.”
Lambert just blinked, still trying to process the handsome beauty above him, his mouth dry and his heart beating faster in his chest. “Hi,” he repeated before cursing and covering his face.
“Wow, eloquent aren’t you? Are all you wolves lacking in words? What do they teach you in that mysterious keep of yours?” Aiden chuckled, pulling Lambert’s hand away from his face, a strong grip on his arm.
And before he could protest, Lambert was pulled to his feet.
“Thanks.”
“No problem, wolf,” Aiden winked, one hand on their hip as their eyes flickered to the claw wound on Lambert’s arm. “Want help with that?”
Lambert shrugged, not wanting to admit that help would be great, not wanting to seem weak.
“For Lillit’s sake, wolf,” Aiden groaned, “I am going to regret this, but do you have somewhere to stay? I’ll patch you up there.”
“Got a room at the inn.”
“Lead the way!” Aiden sighed, “and take some swallow whilst you’re at it. I don’t want you bleeding out before we get there.”
Lambert scoffed. “You’re not my mother… father? Parent? Fuck.”
Aiden just laughed, not confirming anything and leaving Lambert even more confused than before then they set off for town together. Swallow helped the dull ache in Lambert’s arm, and he could feel his energy slowly coming back to him as they walked. He still leaned heavily on Aiden, their steps sluggish but steady on the path. By the time the pair made it back to the inn, Lambert could walk without help, but the swallow had already worn off, and the wound needed stitches. He also needed to repair his armour, but that could wait until morning. Food and rest were his top priority.
The innkeeper, however, wasn’t exactly pleased to see that Lambert had gained a friend on his quest to defeat the griffin. The man sneered as they approached the bar, hostility coming off of him in rolling waves.
“And who’s this?” he grumbled.
“Don’t mind them, just a stray cat I picked up on the way,” Lambert muttered. “They won’t be a bother.”
Aiden made a strange noise at Lambert’s words, and when Lambert turned to face them, he was taken aback by the blinding smile on their face, golden eyes wide and nearly completely black.
“What?” Lambert huffed, struggling to keep the smile off his own face, turning back to the bar to hide.
“You called me ‘they’,” Aiden breathed in a quiet whisper.
“Ah, fuck. Yeah. I did. Was that not right?”
“No! I mean. No, yes, It’s fine, more than fine. Perfect,” Aiden’s voice rumbled into a soft purr on the last word, their scent warm and sweet, addictive and beautiful.
“Oh. Good,” Lambert said, letting out a sigh. He’d figured them out at last, and he’d made them happy. He wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, probably because the idiot saved his life, but he wanted them to be happy.
He wanted them to be happy… because of him.