A week had passed since the three of them had tumbled out of that column of light into Kaer Morhen's courtyard, and the keep had slowly begun to fill again with the familiar rhythms of a School gathering in for winter Eskel arriving two days prior with a smile of a man glad to be off the road at last, and now, today, the distant sound of hooves echoing up the mountain path heralding Lambert's own return.
Seb was near the gate when he heard it, brushing down one of the horses with slow strokes, more for something to occupy his hands than any real need. He looked up just as Lambert rode through the gate, already breaking into a grin at the sight of him.
"Well, would you look at that," Lambert called out, swinging down from his saddle in one easy motion and crossing the yard in a few long strides. "Thought for sure you'd have gotten yourself killed by now, doing whatever it is you do out there." He pulled Seb into a quick, rough hug. "Good to see your ugly face still attached to your shoulders, kid."
"Good to be seen," Seb said, managing a tired grin of his own, clapping him once on the back. "How was the path?"
"Same as always.. too long, too cold, and not nearly enough coin at the end of it." Lambert pulled back, still grinning and then his eyes caught something, and the grin faded fast, his gaze narrowing sharply on the faint, dark lines just visible above the collar of Seb's shirt, tracing up along the side of his neck like something drawn in charcoal beneath the skin. "Whoa. Hold still a second." He leaned in, studying it. "What in every hell is that? You been chugging potions like water again, mixing something you shouldn't? No... that's not a potion reaction, What is that, Seb?"
"Don't worry about it," Seb said, already turning back to the horse, busying his hands with the brush again.
"Don't worry about." Lambert's voice climbed. "That's not an answer, that's a dodge, and a piss-poor one at that."
"Lambert." Vesemir's voice carried firm across the yard as he approached, wiping his hands on a rag slung over one shoulder, his expression carefully neutral. "We'll discuss it properly later, once you've had a chance to settle in. Welcome home."
Lambert's eyes didn't leave Seb, even as he answered, something wary settling behind them now. "...Yeah. Good to be back." He didn't sound entirely convinced it was, not anymore.
Inside, once the door to the great hall had shut firmly behind them, Vesemir laid it all out in full, Tir na Lia, the fight on the bridge, the throne room, the curse spreading slow beneath Seb's skin, everything that Seb, Geralt and Ciri shared.. and Lambert's expression shifted, degree by degree, from disbelief into something considerably darker by the time the old Witcher finally finished.
"What?" Lambert rounded fully on Seb, hands braced flat on the table between them. "All of that happened after I left you in Novigrad? The portal, the elves, and a unicorn saved you... What the hell?"
"Yeah," Seb said, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. "Everything. In order, more or less."
"We've been through a lot," Ciri added quietly from her seat near the fire, arms wrapped around her knees.
"And the two of us had no idea. None of it." Lambert's jaw tightened, something raw and almost hurt flickering behind the anger. "We'd have come, you know that? Both of us, no questions asked, if you'd sent so much as a single line telling us what was happening."
"There wasn't time," Seb said. "Wasn't exactly a situation where I could sit down and write a proper letter, Lambert."
"We're fine," Ciri said, quieter, trying to smooth the edge off the room. "That's what matters, isn't it? We're all back, together."
"Like hell you're fine." Lambert crossed his arms, gaze flicking pointedly toward Seb's collar. "Vesemir says you're cursed. Actually cursed, not just banged up. You can stand there looking as lively as you please, kid, but the old man's never once been wrong about this kind of thing in all the years that I've known him, and you damn well know it."
"I have to agree with him," Eskel said from where he leaned against the doorway, arms folded. "Geralt's already ridden out for Yennefer, left yesterday, before I even got the full story out of Vesemir. Just hope to every god listening we've got the time to spare waiting on her to arrive."
"You're all worrying too much," Seb said, waving a hand dismissively, though something tight flickered briefly across his face before he smoothed it away. "I don't feel any different than I did the day I got here, Just a bit tired.. that's all which, frankly, after the week I've had, seems fair enough."
Vesemir studied him a long moment in silence, saying nothing further on the matter for now, though the look he gave Seb suggested the conversation was far from finished. Instead, he clapped his hands together once, brisk and businesslike. "Well. Since we're all finally back under one roof, we ought to put the time to good use before the snow gets any worse. Lambert, Eskel.. there's tools stacked by the east wall. Start patching the holes in the outer wall before winter finishes the job the last siege started."
"Here we go," Lambert groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "I just got here. Haven't even had a proper drink yet."
"Gotta be done regardless," Eskel said, already pushing off from the doorway, "or the whole east wing comes down on our heads before spring, drink or no drink."
"I'll help out with the wall," Seb offered, half-rising from his chair.
"No, you won't." Vesemir's tone left absolutely no room for argument. "Since you insist so firmly that you're fine, you'll take on something else instead, something that doesn't involve hauling stone all afternoon. You're a decent enough smith when you put your mind to it, your flames are a huge help as well. Get to the workshop, see about mending tools and blades. We'll need both in working order before the season's fully out."
"Of course," Seb said, something almost relieved in the easy way he accepted it.
"I'll go hunt, then," Ciri said, already rising and reaching for her bow. "Better to stock the larder now than scramble for it once the snow's too deep to track anything."
"Very well," Vesemir said, nodding. "Take care on the lower trails, they'll be icing over by now."
With that, they scattered to their separate tasks, the hall emptying out into the cold, bright afternoon.
Seb settled into his old workshop in the courtyard, running a hand along the familiar, scarred workbench with something like quiet relief, the smell of oiled leather and old iron filings settling over him. "Missed this place, I think, even though it's only been around nine months." he said to himself, half a smile tugging at his mouth as he sorted through a box of dulled blades.
Nearby, Ciri finished saddling her horse, checking the girth strap twice out of old habit before glancing over at him. "Don't tire yourself out," she called. "You're supposed to be resting, not spending the whole afternoon hunched over an anvil."
"Sharpening a few blades isn't exactly resting the sword arm," Seb said, not looking up, "but I'll take it easy. Promise." He glanced up briefly, something more serious settling into his expression. "You be careful out there. And remember.. no powers. Not even a little, not even by accident."
"Of course," Ciri said, swinging up into the saddle. "I know the risk better than anyone, Seb. I'm not about to forget it out on a hunting trail."
And then she saw it.
Seb's head jerked sideways without warning, and blood suddenly welled dark from his nose, running fast over his lip and he turned his face away just as quickly, wiping it hard against his sleeve before she could get a clear look, already reaching for a nearby blade as cover, turning it over in his hands with feigned interest. "Well," he said, voice pitched a shade too casual, "this one's seen better days. Needs a full regrind, probably."
Ciri froze in the saddle, the words dying somewhere in her throat. For a long moment she almost said something almost swung down and crossed the yard and made him turn around, made him actually show her, made him stop pretending but something in the careful way he kept his back half-turned told her he'd only deny it harder if she pushed now, in front of everyone still moving about the courtyard.
So instead, she turned her own face away too, throat tight, and nudged her horse toward the gate. "I'll be back before dark," she called, keeping her voice as even as she could manage.
Once she was clear of the courtyard, alone on the winding mountain path with only the wind and the horse's steady hoofbeats for company, she let the mask slip entirely. "He's in pain," she murmured to herself, jaw clenched hard, knuckles white around the reins. "And he's hiding it. From me. From all of them.." Her eyes burned, more from fury now than tears. "Damn you, Avallac'h. Even dead.. even dead.. what in the world did you do to him?"
Back in the workshop, Seb looked down at the blood smeared dark across his sleeve, staring at it a long moment in silence once he was certain he was finally, truly alone.
"Shit," he said, low and rough, and sank down heavily onto his workbench stool, pressing the heel of his palm hard against his eyes.
/-\
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