This is a stupid story, largely unedited work in progress that I'm working on for fun after the events of the Battle of Kaer Morhen in the Witcher 3. THERE IS A HUGE SPOILER JUST AHEAD.

This first chapter is an introspective on the events following the battle and is largely unoriginal, apologies.

-Chapter 1. Stay.-

The flames were difficult to look away from. Geralt held the torch steady just above the old witcher's lifeless body. Despite what had just taken place, it was a very calm and beautiful evening. The moon was beginning to fall behind the fortress of Kaer Morhen, leaving very little light. Her eyes fell on Geralt, who was still. She had grown fond of him, after he had helped her in Velen. Though, given the choice to go back she never would have agreed to come to Kaer Morhen.

She could not take her eyes from Vesemir's body as he slowly ignited the funeral pyre. Everyone stood in silence. Keira did not know Vesemir, but she sensed the grief in the air. She stood silently, next to Lambert who was scowling at the flames. Lambert, was nothing like Geralt. Geralt was the only witcher she had ever met, so she assumed his comrades would be the same. Cold, hardened warriors on the exterior, but loyal and righteous on the inside.

Lambert was younger than Geralt, perhaps younger than she was, it was difficult to tell as she knew Witchers did not age as normal humans, their bodies regenerated quickly due to the mutations which slowed the aging process. Though they weren't ageless. Vesemir appeared significant older than the rest of them, but had been strong and full of life until his last breath. No witcher has ever died in his own bed, a phrase she had overheard Geralt say at one point.

Lambert's hair was very dark and short, and his face had but one deep scar that ran through his right eye. All witchers had many scars, these were no doubt the result of injuries that might've killed a regular person. His eyes were the same and Geralt's. A brilliant and unnatural gold color and wolf like, calculating and hypersensitive. His medallion was exactly the same as Geralt's, notifying the world that he was a Witcher of the School of the Wolf in Kaer Morhen.

Keira saved his life tonight, and just before she had asked him coyly if he would accompany her to Kovir. She was once again in need of a witcher's services, and knew Geralt would not come with her again this time. The young witcher crossed his arms, and continued to stare though her expression softened as he sighed. He did not notice her watch him.

"I'll find somewhere in the Valley to winter this year." She overheard the other witcher say to Geralt.

"Why don't you stay… Kaer Morhen is still our home-" She could hear the hint of desperation in the Rivian's voice.

"Geralt." Eskel said, his own Gold eyes meeting Geralt's "we've known that this place was done for some time now." He said, "There's no reason for us to stay, especially now that Vesemir is gone."

Geralt said nothing, but glanced toward Lambert who was still staring at the flames. Lambert did not react, though Keira knew he had heard that conversation. In a way, she empathized with them. They were the last of the wolfs. She knew what it felt like to be alone.

She was lost in thought when Geralt started towards her. "Thank you Keira, for everything." Keira looked at him, and put her hands on her hips. "Can I be honest with you Geralt?" She said. "Had I known what would happen here I never would've come anywhere near Kaer Morhen, and we shall leave as soon as Lambert is feeling better." Geralt looked away at this, she sensed he felt guilty. "But, I'm glad I could help…." She said lightly. It was true, she did owe Geralt. Not just for his help in Velen, but because he stopped her from certain death. Geralt glanced quizzically at Lambert, who was still unresponsive and now vacantly staring at the flames. "Going together?" He asked.

"I've an idea, and I need a witcher to see it through." She looked at Geralt, "Lambert has agreed to come with me." Geralt looked at Lambert again, surprised. He did not acknowledge him. "Hm." Geralt said, crossing his arms. "Good luck."

"You as well. We're even now." She said with a light smile. Geralt did not smile, but his expression softened. She assumed that he was still too stricken with grief to return her smile. He gazed at Lambert again, Keira assumed he would want to say goodbye to him.

He made his way to her new companion, "Can we talk?"

Lambert raised a brow, "What about?" He asked with a shrug.

"Are you holding up okay?"

"Hah, I love questions like that." Lambert shook his head and looked at the old witcher. "Am I Holding up? What? My Dick? Geralt, this is shit. You know that." He said crossing his arms, gaze fell back on the funeral pyre. He let out a very long sigh. "Knew the old man couldn't live forever. Huh. Even told Eskel that when it came time I could have his sword." Lambert looked down, shaking his head again. "Fits my hand perfectly too, you know." He uncrossed his arms, and let out a long sigh. He was silent momentarily, and Keira noticed he looked visibly pained. "But… Vesemir deserved a better death. Whereas, he died like a louse – crushed…." He looked down, the grief was audible in the young witcher's voice.

"We'll avenge him." Geralt said.

"Doesn't look that rosy to me." Lambert said cynically.

"Listen… try not to fight with anyone. They've all come here to help."

"What, you're gonna tell me how to behave now?"

"No, just asking you nicely."

"Well how's this for a nice answer:" Lambert scowled at Geralt, "Kiss my ass. Sheesh." He looked away.

"You haven't changed a bit."

"Disappointed?"

"No, most grow wiser with age. You just grow pricklier."

"Mom always said I was different."

Keira recognized just how different they were. "See you around Lambert." Geralt said with a sigh. "Take care of yourself Brother." He said softly. Geralt, along with the others headed to the courtyard. Keira and Lambert stayed behind.

"Are you always like this?" She asked curiously.

"Like what? Charming?"

"I suppose that's one way to describe it." She sighed, turned towards him. "Are you wounded?" She asked seriously. They hadn't really had a moment to talk since the battle. "Just a few scratches." He glanced down at his arm, which was bleeding slowly from a deep laceration he had sustained in the battle. "Probably will need to brew something before we go."

"Let me do that, you should rest." She said. Lambert cut her off. "Listen, lets get one thing straight. I'm not Geralt. I agreed to help you because you saved my life."

"Nor would I ask you to be Geralt. If I'd wanted his help, I'd have asked it." She said with a coy smirk. At this point she looked Lambert up and down. He was an attractive man, she thought. He turned to her, and cocked his head to the side. Lambert could feel any eyes on him from any distance, though Keira had made no attempt to be subtle.

"You seem like the type who knows how to manipulate a man. That flattery probably worked on Geralt, but it won't work on me." He said, raising a brow. He returned the favor, his eyes pausing at the necklace that was sitting between her mostly exposed breasts. Her dress left very little to his imagination, but just enough to make him want to tear it off of her body to see what else she was hiding. Keira, seemed to relish this. "I'm not an errand boy, so tell me why we are going to Kovir." He said demurely, crossing his arms.

Keira smirked, brushing her hair from her shoulder, she touched a hand to her chest. Lamberts eyes fell again to her exposed chest, before darting up to met hers. She held his gaze, longer than most would be comfortable. "There will come a time in a relationship when a woman will eventually allow a man to stop guessing what she is thinking." She said, slowly. "At that point… he will know her so well," She stepped closer to him, Lambert did not move an inch, nor did he seem flustered that she was so close to him that now all he could smell was her perfume, which was that of water lillys. "… that he will not need to guess." Her voice was soft, like velvet. He wanted to wrap himself in that voice in that moment. Lambert's expression softened instantly. His composure was gone, all he wanted was to know her. Her eyes fluttered as she looked at his lips. He leaned closer, as if to pounce at that moment. His eyes shut instinctively, and his lips would have met hers, had she not pulled back slightly. "This is not one of those times, darling." She said under her breath, holding his now helpless gaze. He looked at her, lost in her bright eyes. Lambert thought he might do anything to get her to stay close to him. She began to separate from him.

"stay…" he breathed, there was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"I'll explain everything soon. You have my word." She backed away, "But, you should rest now." She said as she turned to take her leave. She had rendered him speechless, something that did not happen often. Lambert could not take his eyes from her as she left.