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Summary
Jaskier lay there for a long time, hating himself. Usually he was the one who snuck out at first light. Or was chased out. This… this felt shit. Geralt had never been one for grand goodbyes. But usually there was a goodbye, a stern nod at least.
The sun rose as he sulked under the covers. He knew it couldn’t have lasted, of course it wouldn’t. It had been a mistake from the start. Whatever semblance of a home, whatever proximity to companionship he’d had… he had, quite literally, fucked it.
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Lambert regretted everything about that night. Every single moment he’d had Aiden beside him but been too afraid to close that gap. He’d crossed the point of no return a long, long time before. Maybe back on that day at the market eight years ago. As he held Aiden’s medallion, clutched against his heart where he’d once held his hand, Lambert knew he’d already had everything he had ever needed and that he’d already lost it forever.
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After being cast aside right at the moment it seemed he might finally get everything he'd wanted, Jaskier is taken by the sadistic survivor of one of their most grueling contracts. Subjected to utter brutality, he comes to know the tortured witcher held captive alongside him.