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It had become a bit of a running joke between Lambert and Aiden. Each time one of them saved the other, they called the Law of Surprise. They could guarantee no children would come of it, it was a way to piss the other one off and it was a fun gamble. Even better, they kept a tally of how many times they called the Law of Surprise so they could go back to their respective schools for winter and boast about how many times they claimed it like the good witchers they were. When asked about what they got, they had some good stories.
“A dagger.” Lambert gladly showed off the dagger one winter. The fact it had been in Aiden’s back was beside the point. He’d just claimed Law of Surprise after saving Aiden from an angry priestess. Alas one of her followers didn’t get the memo and stabbed Aiden which, you know, rude. But Aiden now had a dagger which he hadn’t before, thus the Law of Surprise was filled and Lambert got a dagger out of it.
Similarly, Aiden leaned against the wheel of a wagon with a smirk. Leaving a dramatic pause, he fondly rubbed his stomach. “I got the most exquisite pot of plum jam. It was dark, rich, sweet and perfect on a slice of soft bread.”
Of course not all of it was such fun. The time Lambert called the Law of Surprise upon meeting Aiden for the first time in the spring there was no way they could have predicted that the first thing Aiden got he didn’t expect was a date with a whipping post. After that neither of them called the Law of Surprise for a good month. Thankfully some towns were a little more discerning about punishment. When Lambert returned from a contract only to find his reward was going to be a noose for not killing the werewolf quick enough to save the mayor’s daughter, Aiden’s quick thinking and silver tongue got them out of the tangle. He had claimed Law of Surprise as his reward for landing the killing blow on the werewolf. Which would have gifted him the noose. But as the town had given Lambert the contract, they were only interested in punishing him for the perceived crime of not being fast enough. In short, they refused to fulfill the Law of Surprise, arguing that it was Lambert who needed to be punished. However, Aiden insisted that by the Law of Surprise the noose was owed to him. After a short argument they came to an unconventional agreement. Though Lambert didn’t get paid, they could both walk away from the town unharmed, and Aiden had the rope noose in his pack. Three days later that very rope helped pull Lambert from the river when he’d waded in too deep, underestimating the current and was almost swept away.
Other notable trophies of the Law of Surprise included; a fancy hat (now Lambert’s and a true rival to Vesemir’s one), a sturdy branch (also now Lambert’s and was excellent to smack Aiden over the head with then thrown into some bushes for a very friendly warg to fetch while they beat a hasty retreat), and a pair of wooden clogs (Aiden’s pride and joy to wear to any fancy event. Much to Lambert’s embarrassment it was impossible to miss his approach in them).
The problem with calling the Law of Surprise so frequently was that it became a bit of a habit. Especially when they were bored.
“First to the big tree wins Law of Surprise!” Aiden yelled and started sprinting in a very un-sportsman-like way. Determined not to be outdone, Lambert dropped his pack, refusing to lose. He running tackled Aiden to the floor before scrambling to his feet and staggering the last few paces to the tree where, allegedly, Gaetan was meeting them. The reason for the meeting somewhat eluded Lambert and he didn’t much care when he turned, both fists in the air with a victorious jeer.
“Law of Surprise is mine, bitch!”
His gloating was cut short by a rustle to the side and another witcher stepped out from the undergrowth.
“Aiden?”
“Gaetan!” Aiden picked himself up from the ground and jogged to give his fellow witcher a hug. “You’re here early.”
Glancing to Lambert almost nervously, Gaetan nodded before grinning. “Wanted to surprise you, brought the whole caravan along.”
Yells of “surprise” rang out from around them. Grin stretching into something evil, Gaeten gestured at the group who were crowding around Aiden. “They were for you-”
“No.” Aiden shook his head.
“But I guess that’s no longer the case.”
“Oh hell no,” Lambert growled as a dozen pairs of eyes looked to him with glee.
“Guess we’re your problem now.”
The group moved as one to mob Lambert with eager declarations of “happy Law of Surprise” and other such exclamations. In the centre of the group Lambert stood rigid, eyes staring at Aiden in betrayal.
“Just indulge them,” Aiden murmured late that evening, lying on top of one of the wagons in the caravan, Lambert flopped out next to him, still shellshocked. Dinner had been a regular affair. Well, regular for Aiden and the other Cats. For Lambert it was a little bit of a culture shock. Sure, he had often rough and tumbled with Eskel and Geralt, even stole food off their plates but never before had he experienced quite the decadence of a meal with a bunch of Cats. There were punch-ups, scuffles, a face pushed into a plate amidst raucous laughter. Then there were the noises. It was just scrounged up squirrels and rabbits, the cold weather was making hunting harder but Lambert was suddenly saddled with an entire caravan to feed. He really would rather hunt to fill a hundred witcher stomachs than have someone call him Daddy Lambert again as he was asked about food. So Lambert had set out, came back with perhaps his most impressive (and most desperate) haul in decades. It was Aiden’s family so he tried to do his best, throwing in the remains of his spices in an effort to make a good impression. Something told him that if he fell short of expectations then the caravan as a whole would have no problems with making it known. Violently. Nobody would ever find his body. Thus the last of his precious spices stash and the near enough orgasmic noises emitting from the other witchers. Lambert was only mildly disturbed and only because he had heard Eskel eat pickled onions before.
“Sure.” The agreement was hollow from Lambert as he stared at the sky. As if he hadn’t been doing that right from the start.
Aiden squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Give it a few days. They’ll get bored and bugger off.”
That might have been a bit optimistic on Aiden’s behalf. The next morning Lambert woke to the scent of breakfast. It had his mouth watering and he pushed the throw off himself, ignoring the fact that it hadn’t been there when he and Aiden fell asleep the night before.
“Where the fuck did you get all this food from?” He was already grumbling loudly as he descended down the side of the wagon. A plate was shoved at him along with a smile.
“This is a caravan. We look after each other,” Guxart said as if that could explain everything. It didn’t help with anything in the slightest.
“So why did you make me go out and hunt last night?” Lambert was a little pissed, to put it lightly.
Still smiling, Guxart looked guileless. “You seemed very set on taking care of us. We didn’t want to make you feel bad.”
The frustration bled away as Lambert observed the tasty morsels on his plate. He only had to smack Aiden’s hand away once and, in apology for the harder hit, he fed Aiden a couple of bites.
Life with the caravan was nothing like Lambert could have imagined. There was no privacy whatsoever. No matter how he and Aiden tried to sneak away, they only ever got as far as a hand shoved down trousers for a two second fondle before a curious “what are you doing?” would pipe up. The third time it happened, Lambert lost his rag.
“What the fuck do you think?”
“It looks like you’re trying to get into Aiden’s pants. It smells like it too.”
Snarling, Lambert whipped around. “It looks like it, it smells like it, now listen carefully so it sounds like it. That is exactly what I’m trying to do!”
“Cool. Can I stay and watch?”
“No!” Lambert gripped his hair in his hands out of sheer frustration. “Right. That’s it. I’m calling this year done. I’m going home.”
The hope had been that the Cats would hate heading north, would find it too cold and treacherous to make the climb to Kaer Morhen so Lambert could have a winter of peace. Even if he would miss Aiden somewhat fierce. Alas, luck was never really on Lambert’s side. While Aiden had assured him the others would grow bored within a couple of days, it was rapidly becoming obvious that Aiden was wrong. So very very wrong. At the bottom of the mountain Lambert thought they’d finally call it quits on the stupid charade. Instead the Cats carefully led the caravan up the slopes. Wheels rattled over the cobbles of Kaer Morhen’s courtyard. There was no missing the three puffed up and rather irate looking witchers acting as a welcoming party.
“Lambert,” Vesemir said tightly before his eyes swept over the caravan. “And friends.”
“I hope they’re as good company as the year I brought the prostitutes,” Eskel piped up. His eyes went wide when three Cats immediately assured him they were better and were happy to prove it, Eskel just needed to name a flat surface.
There wasn’t much Lambert could say so he just shrugged. The silence stretched until Vesemir let out a heavy sigh. “Just what is the meaning of all this? I thought I gave you permission for just one Cat to winter with us. Don’t tell me you couldn’t choose.”
“Actually-” Gaetan stepped forward, “-this lot are Lambert’s through the Law of Surprise.”
Head tipping back, Vesemir stared at the sky in hopeless despair before squeezing his eyes shut. “Do I want to know what you did to get this?”
“I won a race.” Lambert’s voice was quiet, tight and it took a quirked eyebrow from Vesemir for him to crack. “I got to a tree before Aiden.”
An older Cat shuffled up to the front of the gathered group, coyly peering at Vesemir. Lambert did his best to ignore it in favour of practical matters. Like room and food.
“Figured the keep could use some extra hands to fix it up. It’s not like we’re struggling for space.” A small lie. Okay, a big one. Lambert hadn’t intended to bring anyone back to Kaer Morhen with him, not even Aiden. Not after this Law of Surprise debacle.
“And how did you expect to feed them?” Vesemir wasn’t budging, unwilling to let so many hungry mouths into their home when supplies were quite tight by the end of winter anyway.
Gaetan lit up and he gestured to the caravans. It had the Cats dispersing and pulling doors open. Sacks of food, grain, stacked jars of preserved fruits were suddenly put on display. Proudly, Gaetan puffed up his chest. “We bring an offering!”
There wasn’t much else to object with so Vesemir nodded in defeat.
“Eskel will show you where the stores are.” After a beat he added, “Geralt will go too. I want everything stashed away rather than find half the stuff left in the open because there were more interesting things to do, like each other.”
People got moving around Lambert. Next to him Aiden was grinning. It all seemed to go far too smoothly, of course something had to change that. On Lambert’s other side Guxart gave Lambert’s sleeve a tug.
“I have a question.” The tone already didn’t bode well. “Technically I’m your Child of Surprise, right?”
Tenuous, Lambert wouldn’t call Guxart a child by any stretch of the imagination. However, he didn’t have any other way to describe what Guxart was to him, so he hesitantly nodded.
“Okay. And Vesemir is technically your father figure.” Another small nod, Lambert had no idea where it was going. “So do I have to call him Grandad Vesemir?”
“No.” Both Lambert and Vesemir gasped out in horror. “Absolutely not.”
“Okay, good.” Guxart was grinning like the cat who got the cream. “In which case, Dadbert, can I ask Vesemir if he fancies a fuck after so many decades apart?”
“Guxi you little shit!” Vesemir growled, stalking closer. “Keep this up and I’ll have you over my knees for a spanking.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time!”
A firm grip around Guxart’s bicep, Vesemir marched him into the keep, quiet rumbling threats whirling in the air. Left alone, Lambert stared after them with a whimper barely held in his throat. A hand patted him on the back and Aiden nudged him into motion towards the caravan.
“Come on, Dadbert,” he mocked. “Your children need help.”
Never again, Lambert swore in the privacy of his mind. He was never calling the Law of Surprise again. Three steps later Aiden was already bouncing on his toes.
“I bet you I can carry more sacks of grain than you.”
Unable to hold back, Lambert grumbled out a scoff and hauled two sacks onto his shoulder in one move. He realised his mistake the moment Aiden grinned brightly.
“Winner gets Law of Surprise.”
Sense warred with pride and Lambert swallowed thickly. Eskel breezed past him and pulled three sacks out with ease. Mind made up, Lambert grabbed another sack, nostrils flaring as he breathed through the additional weight. Next to him Aiden was snickering already. Law of Surprise be damned, Lambert was going to win.
That evening he was sprawled on the bed, cheeks red and out of breath while Aiden looked similarly pleased.
“I’m so glad I forgot I had that plug in my bag,” he gasped. Lambert could only hum in his throat, cooling sweat making him shiver. He wondered whether he could tempt Aiden into a third round.