The witcher: Fate (Jaskier x OC)

Chapter 3

The high walls of Kaer Morhen looked majestic against the backdrop of the rugged mountains. As Geralt, Ciri and Lyra approached the ancient fortress, Lyra couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions. Yennefer's death still weighed heavily on her heart, and her adoptive father's recent rudeness left a bitter taste. Despite all this, she really wanted to see her beloved uncles, the witchers, who had become family to her.

When they crossed the threshold of Kaer Morhen, Lyra's heart leaped with joy. More than twenty witchers had gathered in the courtyard, and the sight of Geralt's return brought applause and shouts of welcome. Lyra's steps quickened and she rushed towards Lambert, her beloved uncle, in a special way, beaming with excitement.

" Lambert!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug. Lambert couldn't help but smile a little as he returned her hug.

" Ah, 17 years have passed, right?" Lambert teased, ruffling her hair affectionately. Lyra nodded vigorously, her eyes shining with happiness.

With a mischievous glint in his eyes, Lambert reached into his pocket and pulled out a beautiful leather bracelet. He handed it to Lyra, who gasped in delight.

" I know your birthday was three days ago, but I couldn't resist" Lambert admitted with a grin.

Lyra's face brightened even more when she accepted the thoughtful gift: her skin was warm and soft to the touch.

Meanwhile, Geralt stood nearby, watching the interaction between Lyra and Lambert. For a moment, he couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt. In the chaos of recent events and Ciri's arrival, he had completely forgotten about Lyra's birthday, a fact that now weighed heavily on his conscience.

Lyra, although offended by Geralt's recent behavior, chose not to show it. She had a bright smile on her face and an expression of pure happiness, determined to enjoy the moment of being reunited with her family in Kaer Morhen.

The great hall of Kaer Morhen was filled with the warm glow of torches and the hearty laughter of the witchers gathered around long wooden tables. For these warriors of the night, it was a rare moment of respite, a chance to relax and share stories of their adventures. Lyra sat among them, a new leather bracelet adorning her wrist, her eyes shining with anticipation as she joined in the fun.

Lambert, with his cheeky humor and sharp wit, took the floor and all eyes were on him as he regaled the company with one of his famous anecdotes

" And here I am," Lambert began, his voice easily carried through the hall, " for the second night in a row, freezing in the middle of a grain field." " His words were punctuated by the laughter of the captive audience. — When the farmer's wife sneaks up and says I'm wasting my time" Lambert's grin was infectious and spread among the witchers like wildfire.

Lyra couldn't help but laugh, her eyes glued to Lambert as he told his story.

" It was not the same mora that her husband saw when he left the room," Lambert continued with theatrical flair. " No. It was a damn field worker!"

There was laughter again at the tables, a harmonious chorus of merriment.

Lambert's skill as a storyteller held the room's attention as he painted a vivid picture of a farmer's wife's unexpected visit.

" Oh, and now she howls: "Oh, what should we do? My husband will not pay you until you bring the head of the plague!""

Lambert imitated the woman's desperate cries, and the laughter intensified.

Lyra's eyes sparkled with delight as she joined in the fun. The camaraderie among the witchers was palpable, and even Geralt, who usually remained stoic, couldn't help but smile.