~ Soulmate That Kills Your Monsters ~
When Lambert arrives in Nilfgaard to meet the contract issuer, he is surprised to find that the man actually knows nothing about it and is merely a servant who was sent to escort him the royal palace. Upon arriving at the palace, he is passed off to a chamberlain - a nervous old man whose head is ringed with dandelions gone to seed. It is undoubtedly one of the oddest flower crowns Lambert has ever seen and he is almost tactless enough to comment on it, but somehow manages to refrain.
"The witcher has arrived."
Emhyr looks up at the sound of his soulmate's voice. He hadn't heard her enter the room. Even after all the years that they have been together, she still manages to surprise him sometimes.
After losing Pavetta so long ago, he had neither hoped nor wanted to find another soulmate, but when he returned to Nilfgaard to take back his rightful crown, he'd found a willing accomplice in the form of Nilfgaard's court mage... who, it turned out, was also his soulmate.
"Geralt is here?" he asks belatedly.
Fringilla makes no mention of the pause in which his thoughts drifted elsewhere, although surely she knows exactly what was on his mind.
"It's not Geralt."
Emhyr frowns.
"And here I was certain that Geralt was the only witcher who would even think about taking a contract in Nilfgaard."
"Apparently one of his brothers is bold enough to try it."
"An interesting development..."
"Should I have Mererid send him to your office?"
"No... I can't be bothered to meet with the witcher. Have General Voorhis take care of the matter."
Only after official business is taken care of does she drop the cold facade and come around the desk to brush a soft, fleeting kiss to her soulmate's cheek.
After being forced to bathe, shave, and change into ridiculous fancy clothes, Lambert is pissed off that he isn't even going to get to meet the emperor. Not that he particularly cares about meeting that asshole, but since that is the reason he was given for having to go through all the fuss of getting cleaned up and dressed up like a doll, it seems especially unfair that he isn't even going meet the man.
His anger fizzles out abruptly when he is greeted by the soft-spoken general who comes to inform him of the specifics of the contract, and sees a crown of belladonna and tiger lily bloom upon his head.
"Well, this is... unexpected," Morvran Voorhis comments calmly.
"You don't sound very surprised," Lambert replies, as a sneaking suspicion creeps over him.
"Ah... well. You know," the general begins haltingly. "There's an old wives' tale about how to predict where you'll meet your soulmate..."
"Let me guess: you burned the petals of a rose, scattered its ashes over your nightstand, and slept with the stem of the rose under your pillow?"
"No... although I've heard that's what they do in the north." He proceeds to describe a similar ritual which involves a series of runes and a raven's feather.
"Anyway," Lambert abruptly and rudely changes the topic. "I'm here about the contract on the endrega nest."
If Morvran is upset that his soulmate doesn't want to discuss their bond, he does not show it. He prdouces a written copy of the contract.
After reading it over, Lambert stuffs the paper in his pocket and says, "'Kay, I'll be back for my reward in a couple days."
When Lambert returns to Kaer Morhen, he finds the other wolves and their soulmates waiting for him. He gives a long and thrilling rendition of the tale of how he bombed ever-loving fuck out of a massive endrega nest. He drags the story out to unnecessary lengths just to annoy his brothers because he knows they've noticed his flower crown and are chomping at the bit for news of his fated partner.
The joke is on him, however, as the other wolves (even Vesemir!) become enthralled with the tale and interrupt to pester him for more details about the endregas, the nest itself, and what bombs and other assorted equipment he used.
Finally, the tale reaches its end, and Eskel asks the question that was on everyone's mind.
"So, who's your soulmate?"
"A Nilfgaardian general named Morvran Voorhis," Lambert answers, and does not elaborate.
"Oh, I know that guy," Geralt says. "I wouldn't have thought he was your type, though."
Which prompts Yennefer to ask, "So, do you like him?"
Lambert shrugs and says, "Eh... he's alright. I don't exactly see some epic romance playing out between us, but we get along fine."
"Which is more than can be said of you and most people."
"Hey! I resemble that remark!"
~end~