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hrefna-the-raven · 6 months

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Another friendly one?

Masterlist

Words: 1215

Summary: Eskel learns the difference between an unusual and friendly mount and a beast

Notes: after ignoring this WIP for almost a year, I finally finished it 😅 while writing this, I had Netflix!Eskel in mind, because 🥵🔥 but he has the soft personality of Game!Eskel, because let's be fair here, Netflix did our witcher dirty in their show

Eskel had been on the road for days, Scorpio carrying him through the vast meadows. The sun had begun its descent, casting a warm golden hue across the landscape. Just as he was about to end his search for the perfect place to set up a camp for the night, he saw something unexpected, a huge griffin landing gracefully on the meadow next to his path, ruffling its majestic raven feathers and mane. Intrigued and cautious by how careless and relaxed it seemed to be, Eskel dismounted from his horse, his silver sword drawn, gleaming in the fading sunlight. He knew he had to be prepared for anything, so he slowly crept closer to the beast, trying to steady his breath and relying on his heightened witcher senses. With each step, he mentally prepared himself to unleash his magic as a last resort. Ten meters away, Eskel steadied himself, his sword poised to strike, held firmly in his grip. In one swift motion, he sprinted towards the creature, his eyes fixed on its powerful wings and razor-sharp claws. But just as he was about to launch his attack, a sudden surge of a potent spell struck him, sending him sprawling backward through the air.

Confused and disoriented, Eskel struggled to regain his bearings. And then, a commanding voice pierced through the air, demanding attention.

"No!" a female voice shouted, "Talon is my mount, not a monster!"

Eskel looked up to find you standing beside the griffin. Your bright amber eyes were filled with concern and frustration as you defended your companion, your hand holding your own sword tight, ready to draw it if needed. Talon, seemingly intrigued by the commotion, looked from Eskel to you and back again, its eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and confusion before finally slumping down in a curled up position and closed its eyes.

The witcher's initial confusion turned into a mix of awe and admiration. He had encountered countless beasts but this encounter was unlike any other. The usual ferocity he had expected was replaced by a surprising harmony between the griffin and you. Silent questions swirled within Eskel's mind. Who were you and why in the name of Melitele's tits did you ride upon a creature typically feared and hunted? What kind of bond did you share that enabled such a display of trust and friendship? Eskel rose from his position, sheathing his silver sword and calling for Scorpio while cautiously approaching you, his palms raised.

"I mean you no harm", he stated calmly, "I just sought to protect, I'm-"

"A witcher", you interrupted him, earning a chuckle from Eskel.

"Is it that obvious?"

You affectionately stroked the griffin's head before continuing to unpack, preparing to establish a small camp for the night.

"You tried to attack a grown griffin so there are only two options", you smirked, glancing at him, "you're either an idiot or a witcher."

"Well I suppose I should be grateful that I don't look like an idiot", Eskel laughed, "I'm Eskel."

You playfully curtsied before the witcher, theatrically announcing your name with an air of mock elegance.

"Formidable huntress, whether with a blade or through magic", you chuckled as you conjured some firewood and ignited it, "care to join me for the night?", you offered.

Eskel felt the heat rising in his cheeks, shifting uncomfortably on his feet as his hand anxiously rubbed at his neck.

"I meant set up camp here together", you said with a playful grin, finding amusement in his understanding, "it's safer that way."

The witcher let out a sigh of relief. He couldn't deny your beauty but he knew better than to take chances, especially after he'd gotten his ugly scars in the face. He had learned from painful experience that passionate encounters, if not paid for, often led to feelings of disappointment and sadness the following morning. As he was about to remove his swords from his back and set up his sleeping bag next to the fire, the griffin suddenly perked up, its head lifting in agitation as it peered into the surrounding darkness. A piercing cry shattered the stillness of the night, growing louder and closer as another griffin, larger and more imposing, descended onto the meadow.

"Another friendly one?", Eskel asked hesitantly.

"Oh no no no", you exclaimed, raising your hand and tracing a symbol before releasing a blazing fireball towards the ferocious creature, "not friendly, not friendly!", you shouted as you swiftly darted towards the left, signalling Talon to stand back.

Eskel stumbled backwards, unsheathing his sword and sprinting towards the right, attempting to outmaneuver the menacing beast. With swift reflexes, he leaped aside, narrowly avoiding the razor-sharp claws. The griffin, with its magnificent wingspan and piercing eyes, had clearly marked Eskel as its prey. The witcher's piercing blue eyes locked with the griffin's fierce stare, a silent challenge between predator and prey. He conjured a swirling vortex of fire, hurling it towards the griffin with a thunderous scream.

Sensing an opportunity, you charged from the opposite side. Distracted by Eskel's attacks, you managed to clash your sword into the griffin's side, digging it deep into its flesh as it screamed in pain. The creature fought back with unmatched strength, lashing out with its beak and talons that you barely managed to dodge by casting a protective spell.

Eskel and you fought valiantly, blow after blow, spell after spell, the battle raged on until the beast's once-mighty wings faltered and it let out a final, guttural cry. The creature, exhausted and defeated, collapsed onto the grass, its life force fading away. Exhausted from the ordeal, you made your way back to the warmth of the crackling fire. As you glanced over at the witcher, a silent understanding passed between you, assuring each other that neither of you had been harmed. In response, he offered you a reassuring smile, prompting you to truly take in his appearance for the first time. There he stood, tall, his ripped and bloodstained tunic clinging to his chest as he breathed slowly, the flickering flames danced across his scarred face, casting a soft glow. His wavy brown hair was haphazardly tied at the back of his head, while his piercing blue eyes seemed to radiate with an inner light. Despite the deep scars that marred his face, he possessed an undeniable beauty that remained untouched and you quickly averted your gaze back to your backpack. After searching around, your hands eventually located the object of your desire.

"Let's share", you offered, presenting a bottle of exquisite wine to the weary witcher.

"Talk about impeccable timing after an intense battle," he laughed, taking a generous swig from the bottle before returning it.

"You know," you said, giving him a quick glance and a warm smile forming at the edges of your lips, "I can't help but wonder if the tales I heared about witchers were entirely accurate."

"About us being mutants, monsters, snatching children away, and never being satisfied?" Eskel inquired, attempting to mask a hint of sadness in his tone.

"Yes, although," you playfully nudged his arm, "I must admit, I'm not entirely convinced about the last one. Perhaps that particular rumour could benefit from a more thorough examination."

#the witcher #witcher #witcher eskel #netflix!eskel #eskel #eskel x reader #eskel x female reader #griffin #pet griffin #fighting alongside eskel #eskel deserves all the goodness he can get

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kingbabydollbilly · 2 years

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Change of Fate (Eskel x Mom!Reader)

Series: The Witcher

Characters: Eskel, Lambert, Vesemir, tiny bit of Geralt.

Summary: A twist in the peaceful life of Y/N and her two children will change them forever. Know this; a mother will do anything to help her kids, even if it means using the help of some witchers.

WARNINGS: Animal attack, injured child, blood, fear, light swearing

Word Count: 7.4k Way too many

The heat on this midsummer night hung heavy in the sky. No relief in sight, as the midnight stayed silent, free of any light breeze or gusts. Within the thick heat on the countryside outskirts of White Orchard village is a small, somewhat dilapidated irregular shaped cottage, seemingly overrun on the outside by thick and thorny vines. Although the outside appears to be in ruins, the inside is a warm, cozy, and inviting interior. This unique structure serves to be the home of a loving single mother, Y/N, and her two pre-adolescent boys, Cain and Oman. At the young ages of nine and eleven, the children easily share a single bedroom, just big enough for two twin sized beds and one roughly handmade dresser.

Despite the intense dry heat plastering the air, the entire family is sleeping in peace, all blankets discarded onto the floor. The only sound present throughout the whole house is a soft snore stemming from Cain. This snoring goes unnoticed by Oman, who is exploring his own dreams.

Y/N begins to stir in her bed, feeling the need to stretch. She sits up, her loose wavy Y/H/C hair falling over her shoulder. Her arms raise to stretch while a yawn escapes her mouth. Feeling a strain in her legs as well, she swings them over the edge of her bed, then standing up onto the hard, uneven wood flooring. Now that she is awake and mostly conscious, she becomes much more aware of the high heat, wiping away a bead of sweat threatening to drip from her eyebrow into her eye. Thirst on her mind, she makes her way through a short hallway attached to the two bedrooms, entering the living room. Connected to this room in the corner is a small but charming kitchen. She remembers she had left a tankard half way filled with water on the counter. Reaching her goal, she takes a large sip of the water before chugging the rest. A droplet misses her mouth and drips down her chin, quickly being wiped away by the ruffled sleeve of her nightshirt. She yawns one final time and turns around to return to her bedroom and resume sleeping.

She plops back down onto her bed, creating a slight creaking sound. Following the sound of the loose bed legs, she hears a louder snap of wood in the darkness. Afraid that she awoke Cain or Oman, she gets back up to check on them. To her confusion, she looks into their bedroom and sees that both of them are still dead asleep and have not moved. Suddenly, an almost identical sound sprung out, only much louder. Her head snaps towards the hallway, expecting to see her bed halfway onto the floor, collapsed. Seeing her bed fully intact only confuses her more. An uneasy feeling arises in her stomach as she tip-toes out of their bedroom, carefully closing their door behind her.

Moving into her own bedroom again, she eyes an ax resting against the wall underneath a window. She picks it up, gripping the rough wooden handle tightly, ready to investigate the source of the sound. Heading back down the hallway, steps as light as air, she abruptly stops at the entrance to the living room. Completely frozen in place, her eyes widen in horror when she witnesses the last thing she was expecting on this night.

A bear.

A massive, hulking looking bear, as black as the shadowy night that surrounds Y/N and her family.

The enormous creature found itself occupied with a cluster of scents wafting from the dining table. Three white antique plates with scraps of uneaten food from the day’s dinner and three matching tankards, some half filled with cow’s milk, another empty, were left forgotten without worry. Now these once meaningless things represent temptation for the bear, as if they are welcoming the bear into the house for a feast. This temptation proves to be too much. Y/N watches the bear raise itself to stand on its hind legs, moving to rest its giant front paws on the dining table itself in an attempt to obtain the origin of the sweet and salty smells before it. What the animal does not comprehend is that the table is a simple one at that. A plain table once made of thick, sturdy oak wood, has seen its lifetime at this point, wood splintering in numerous spots, the wood itself beginning to wither away. The table buckles with ease underneath the weight of this full grown bear, the wood and dishes crashing to the ground and breaking into hundreds of pieces. Startled but determined, the bear shakes its head, loose fur falling to the floor, and then continues to sniff around the now easily accessible food.

Some of the fear freezing Y/N in place melts when she takes the table breaking under the bear’s weight as a warning by the universe, knowing she would be no match for it, and thinks of how she could take action and get her children to safety. Quickly, she comes up with the plan to lead them over to the single window within the walls of her bedroom. Underneath this window is a door covering an underground cellar that locks from the inside. With more confidence than she’s had through this entire ordeal, she turns around with intention to tip toe back to the children’s bedroom. The second she turns, her eyes become wider than they’ve ever been before, hands trembling around the ax handle. Standing before her are the previously thought oblivious Cain and Oman , now awake from the loud crashing and clashing of the bear in the dining room.

In mere seconds, a sharp clashing sound from the bear swatting at the broken dishes in an effort to find scraps within the rubble, some pieces breaking underneath the creature’s paws. Not knowing the events that have been taking place while he was sound asleep, Cain lets out a startling yelp when the noise invades his eardrums. The bear suddenly becomes alert and aware that three scrumptious snacks now stand before him. A sinister guttural growl unleashed from the bear’s throat.

“Oman! Take your brother to the window in my bedroom and both of you go outside into the cellar! Lock the door behind you, I’ll follow you soon!” Y/N cried out, pointing her arm towards her room.

Oman immediately grabs the sobbing Cain by his smaller hand and darts for Y/N’s bedroom. Once they are out of sight, Y/N ever so slowly steps forward farther into the living room, hoping to deter the bear from moving deeper into the house and following the boys. Her knuckles are white and sore from the pressure she is applying with her grip on the ax. The bear stood less than fifteen feet away, staring directly into Y/N’s Y/E/C eyes, waiting for action. Not knowing what else to do, Y/N walks forward a few more feet, eyes locked onto the threat. The final step she takes proves to be the end of the bear’s fuse; it unleashes a second heart-stopping growl, and rushes forward. Y/N raises the ax and swings at the lunging bear as hard as she possibly can, only seeing fault in her aim, clipping its right front paw as it raises to knock her back into a wall. Her full body weight slams against the rough textured wooden wall, knocking the wind out of her briefly. The bear gives her no time to recover, swinging down once more, leaving a deep gash within her shoulder and tearing out a small chunk of hair that had still been resting there. Y/N screams but still experiences adrenaline coursing through her veins, giving her the strength to use her unaffected arm to swing the ax at the beast. The ax connects with its chest, earning a yelp from it while it falls on all fours and slowly backs away from her.

Given the opportunity, Y/N returned to an upright stance, doing her best to ignore the blood flowing out of her destroyed shoulder. Only having one functional arm has not taken away her drive to fight and survive, even if only for her two children. She must survive. The bear seems to have recuperated and begins to step straight ahead, its target still in mind. He repeats his stance, standing up onto his two hind legs, towering six feet over Y/N. One paw swiftly moves into the air, ready to come down onto her soft flesh for a second time. She closes her eyes for a split second, inhaling and exhaling a deep breath, and elevates the ax above her head, preparing to land another blow. Before anything can happen, the sound of metal and stomping boots resonates through the living room. The metallic sound abruptly turns into a dull and deep thud, focused from the bear’s back. Speechless, she watches the viscous beast drop to the floor with a hefty crash, splintering a few pieces of wood as it thumps down. He is dead. How?

Y/N wonders if her mind is playing tricks on her now. She sets the ax onto the floor and rubs her eyes, one at a time, with her uninjured arm, then heavily blinking in the direction of the now deceased animal. Standing next to the slain bear stands a man, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere at the perfect time.

“This must be a result of exhaustion” Y/N thought to herself.

She continues to stare at the man, now looking closer at his features. His bulky frame is at least six feet tall and littered with scars, the most apparent being a series of scars on his face. Several of them appear deep, running from his temple down his cheek, and some over his lip. The possibility of each story behind every scar runs through her brain. The man’s deep blue eyes complement his shoulder length brown curly hair in a way she could not describe. His hair was half tied up into a bun, giving off an aura of elegance to combat the fact that his skin and clothing was covered in blood spatter. After staring for much too long, she snaps out of her trance to see the man is holding out a hand to her, offering help to stand back up.

“Oh….thank you….” Y/N gently grabs his hand and allows him to pull her up. “I’m sorry, I must have been in shock…..I did not notice I had fallen to the ground again.” She says, sounding dazed.

The man simply nods in acknowledgement. He almost immediately begins to open his mouth to speak instead, but is cut off before any words can form.

“Cain! Oman!” Y/N shouts, sprinting out the gaping hole that was once the front door to the cottage.

Following close behind her, the mysterious man went to investigate who these two names could belong to. He trails her just around the cottage where two corners meet, noting a cellar door protruding from the damp ground. Y/N pulls on the outside handle to the door, momentarily forgetting that the boys most likely had locked it from the inside. She begins pounding on the door with her fist, calling out for them.

“Cain?! Oman?! It’s okay to come out! You are safe my loves!” Y/N yelled out, tears now running down her face passing by her open mouth.

After a moment that seemed to last an entire lifetime, the quiet sound of the cellar door being unlocked entered her ears. The door then opens, Oman appearing first, flinging himself forward into Y/N’s arms, shortly followed by Cain. The boys gripped her as if they have never felt the warmth of a hug before.

“Boys, you’re okay! It’s safe! It’s all over now, you don’t have to be scared. I love you so much, more than life.” Y/N cried into them, not caring about the pain in her shoulder from their grip.

“Mama….what’s wrong with your shoulder?” Oman pulled back slightly, feeling the wetness of her blood on his thin clothing.

“Oh, it’s nothing, darling. Don’t worry, I will be okay. Are you okay?” Y/N asked, her eyes darting between both boys, now standing in front of her knelt form.

The conversation is cut short by the man who came to her rescue running back over, shouting that all three of them must go down into the cellar and lock the door. Y/N stops wiping away the tears streaming down her sons’ faces, turning around to look at the man and the scene unfolding before them. Emerging from the line that marked the end of the nearby grove, two more black bears made their way onto the property.

“Male….female….” The man mumbled to himself.

Viewing the action along with his mother, Oman quickly turns around, grabbing his younger brother’s hand to pull him back into the cellar with him. To his dismay, he has to let go in order to lift the door with two hands, the strength not being apparent in his arms. Y/N rushes over to the door instead and lifts the door up as if it was a simple feather. Oman races down the stairs to safety. Before Cain can fully enter the safe space, the female black bear dashed towards them. Y/N takes hold of him in her arms, diving away just in the knick of time before the bear’s tremendous paw swipes down, narrowly missing them and instead smacking into the siding of the cottage which takes out a small chunk of the slowly rotting wood. Y/N rushes to get back up and crawl farther off to the side with her son. When she and Cain have settled, she watches the man running towards the female bear with his steel sword held high, prepared to make contact. As luck has it, his sword plunges into her shoulder blade. She snarls a thunderous roar and drops to the ground. The man focuses his attention onto the male bear now, taking into consideration that he just attacked and wounded his mate, likely enraging him. This was found to be correct when the creature lunged at him. With ease, the man’s sword cut through the air and stuck straight up into the bear’s ribs. He plummeted down but had not yet passed. The man finished off his attack by slicing clean through its neck, its head separating from its body. His sword now appeared as if it was made of fur and blood, no metallic likeness in sight. Y/N’s eyes were locked onto his movements through the ordeal, the voice of her youngest son being the thing to catch her attention.

“Mama….my tummy hurts.” Cain whimpered.

“Love, it’s okay, we can rest and eat soon.” Y/N consoled him, assuming the young boy was tired and growing to become hungry. “We just need to-” She stops, heart sinking, blood running cold.

Cain’s white long-sleeved nightshirt was now tattered and tainted with a pool of warm crimson blood centered around his abdomen. In pure panic, Y/N lifts the fabric to get a better look. Her darkest fears came true, now playing out in front of her. The female black bear had not completely missed him. Her claws had mercilessly torn into the boy’s abdomen, leaving behind a seven inch open cut that gushed out a waterfall of blood.

“HELP US!! PLEASE!!” Y/N yells out for the man who had been more than helpful the entire night.

The man whips his head around to them, seeing the situation is dire, and starts to jog towards them. However, he stops halfway when he notices that the female black bear is still alive and begins rising back up onto her feet.

“I need to take care of this first, before anybody else is hurt!” He shouts to her and walks away.

Oman then emerges from the cellar, returning outside. The first thing he sees is his mother knelt onto the ground hovering over Cain, attempting to apply pressure to his wound. He sits in front of them, tears reappearing in his eyes and streaming down his face. Just a moment later, the group hears a loud yelp coming from the bear. A few seconds later, the man’s running footsteps are heard as he returns back to them. His red and black multi-layered armor is now riddled with the bear’s blood.

The burly man bolts as fast as he can over to the family, falling to his knees and tossing his woven pouch of supplies onto the ground in front of himself. His bloody and calloused hands frantically search through it, eventually pulling out what appears to be some sort of yellow flowered plant with long green stems accompanied by small leaves protruding out of them, a rough-edged grey stone bowl, a roll of bandages, and a pestle tool for crushing things. A quick exam of Cain’s wound reveals that luckily the bear’s claws did not severely damage any internal organs but it was still too deep for comfort, the boy being at risk for bleeding out. The man places the unidentified plant into the bowl, then uses the pestle tool to crush it into a fine pulp. Once it is mashed enough, he starts to sprinkle it throughout the wound, making sure every inch is slathered.

“Need to prop him up so I can apply the bandages.” The man informs.

Y/N immediately complies, slowly and carefully propping up Cain into a sitting position, taking care to not disturb his wound even more.

“Who….what are you? Why were you here at my home?” Y/N questioned the man.

He glances at her for a moment before replying. “The name is Eskel. I’m….witcher is my profession.” Eskel continues wrapping the bandage around the boy’s abdomen, wondering if he should say more. “The village nearby contracted me to hunt down a couple of bears that maimed a child and acted as thieves, stealing crops and scarfing them down. The girl lived,” Eskel pauses. “but she’s hardly living a life since the bears have been destroying the village’s food supply. I’m used to larger, more dangerous creatures but the people would continue to suffer. Plus,” He stands up, finished with the wrapping. “it was easy coin.�� I tracked their footprints most of the way down the grove, all the way to the line that started your yard. Then I could just smell them. I heard the sounds of the attack shortly after and just went to where I heard it.” His shoulders shrug. “You know….there’s not a healer ‘round these parts.”

Y/N’s eyes grow wide, quickly figuring out what he was suggesting. “What can I do? He’ll die if I keep him here! Where can I go?” She has desperation in her voice.

“I can take you to Kaer Morhen. It’s….my home. ‘Bout a day’s ride from here. Any farther than that and the boy won’t make it. I’ve diminished my supplies and that celandine plant I rubbed into his gash won’t last forever. There’s other witchers there who can help you. My uh….mentor, Vesemir, will be more helpful than I. He is skilled in this sort of thing. The two of you can ride on top of my horse, Scorpion and your other boy can walk alongside me.”

Y/N cannot deny that she felt skeptical. Other witchers? She recounts the numerous stories her father told her as a child, always telling her to avoid them, as they were evil and disgusting beings who would slaughter any human without a second thought. Even nowadays, as an adult, she constantly hears the whispers of villagers talking down on witchers, saying anything and everything they possibly could to tarnish their reputation. However, this is different. Her child is dying. And there is not a damn thing that can stand her way of getting him help.

“Let’s do it.” Y/N announced.

Eskel stands speechless for a moment, eyes blinking in rhythm, never expecting her to agree so fast.

“Well….” Eskel delicately picks up Cain off of the ground. “shall we then?”

*ONE DAY AND A HALF LATER*

The journey up to Kaer Morhen is a fairly smooth one. The worst weather they experienced was nothing more than a thick fog while riding through a moist and dreary swamp land. Other than that, the traveling clan had a warm, clear, cloudless night. Cain remains mostly stable in condition throughout, although his bandages quickly became completely soaked with his blood. Eskel was unable to properly clean them and the boy’s wound, fearing that once removed he would begin to bleed profusely again. He was still breathing and that’s all that mattered.

Finally riding up to the entrance to Kaer Morhen, Y/N is in absolute awe. Deep within the mountains of the kingdom of Kaedwen lay a massive stone stronghold, partially in ruin. The castle has walls and towers as far as the eyes can see, seemingly impenetrable, even with the obvious rubble scattered around the land from various demolished walls, gates, and some stonework on the ground. If one were to take a close look at the architecture, they would see randomly placed fossils of different sea creatures who once swam the Earth, clearly having meaning to the structure. Y/N imagines what this place was like when it was in its prime, thriving with witchers and trainees from all over the Continent., when the castle itself was intimidating, strong, and resilient.

Cain is sleeping as soundly as he can, nestled against his mother’s chest, when they stop directly in front of the huge caged iron gate serving as the entrance to the stronghold. Eskel motions for Y/N to hand him down the boy to carry. She is reluctant but obeys. Oman reaches his hand up to his mother in order to help her step off of Scorpion without trouble. Once down, Eskel returns Cain to her arms, a deep sigh coming from the young boy.

“I’m going to take Scorpion to the stables, get ‘er settled down. Wait here just a moment.” Eskel turns away from the family, taking a hold of Scorpion’s reigns, before turning his head back again. “Lass….Cain’s heartbeat has slowed, I can hear it. I’m afraid he may have an infection…” He pauses, moving one hand absentmindedly rubbing against his scarred cheek. “I will be quick. Then we will see Vesemir. He will help.” Eskel turns back in the direction he originally intended to go.

“What’s going on, Mama?” Oman asks.

“Oh, love, it seems our dear witcher friend was right…..that…..cela-something plant he used to hold over your brother’s wounds until we got here has in fact, not lasted forever.” Y/N tearfully speaks.

Oman says nothing, walking forward to embrace his mother, but then stopping in worry of awakening Cain while he is still taking refuge in her arms.

Eskel returns a few minutes later, having definitely rushed to settle Scorpion in for the night. Without a word, he opens the gate to the keep, entering inside first.

“Well, this is it, darlings. We’re here.” Y/N speaks to both children, then follows the witcher inside.

Immediately upon entering, three pairs of eyes lock onto Eskel and his three unknown guests. Quicker than Eskel’s can collect his thoughts and come up with a brief explanation, a man with red curly hair speaks up.

“Who the fuck are they?” He blurted out, standing up from the scarred wooden table bench he is resting on. A witcher among the group with shoulder length white hair and golden eyes shoots him a glare.

“This boy needs help, he has been wounded.” Eskel motions to Cain, still in his mothers arms. “I rubbed celandine into the gash but he won’t make it without anything else done.”

A moment of silence fills the room, the three witchers exchange glances.

“Follow me.” The witcher, who looks like an older version of the white haired man, advised.

The two witchers left behind in the Great Hall stare at the group as they exit.

The room the older witcher leads them to looks like something Y/N only reads about in stories of witches and other magical beings. Wide rugged shelves lined the walls surrounding the room, each at least six feet tall. Hundreds of beakers and bottles filled with various colors of liquid, along with piles and piles of herbs found home upon the shelves. Scattered scrolls and papers were seemingly haphazardly tossed amongst them. Although surrounded by decades of knowledge and skill, Y/N could only focus on the long rickety oak table in the center of the square layout.

“Let’s see what we can do to help your boy.” The witcher motions to the table, directing Y/N to place Cain down.

Cain groans softly as he is placed down, still only partially conscious. With careful hands, the witcher removes bandages covering his abdomen to examine the wound closer, fully taking in the severity of the situation. The man sighs heavily and takes note of the thick layer of sweat on Cain’s face and body.

“What’s your boy’s name here?” The witcher asks, not looking away from his face.

“His…his name is Cain…sir.” Y/N chokes up.

“Alright then,” He walks closer to Cain’s head and leans down to hover over him. “Cain, if you hear me, my name is Vesemir. Your mother is worried for you. How about we change that, yeah?”

A faint smile creeps on Y/N’s face.

“I’ll give it to you straight. Your b-...Cain has an infection and has taken on a fever. It….it won’t be long now. He has lost too much blood and was too far from our keep to be mended in time.” Vesemir glances at Cain’s form, releasing another deep sigh. “At this stage, there is only one option.”

Vesemir pauses for a moment, taking in the sight of Y/N and Oman breaking down in sobs. Part of Y/N’s entire world is about to be cruelly ripped away from her. What started as a peaceful night of sleep and sweet dreams, as typical as any other, suddenly turned into a mother’s worst nightmare. Fate is a fickle thing…..However, actions happen to be the seed of a change in fate.

“What can we do for him? What’s our only option?” Y/N clutches Oman at her side, afraid of him leaving her grasp.

“Witcher exclusive potions.” Vesemir uttered.

“What? Witcher potions? I thought those could only work on witchers and would harm humans! My children are no such thing!”

“Cain will not survive if he stays human. The transition must be complete for his wounds and fever to heal. It is the only way, I’m afraid.”

Y/N’s heart drops, becoming heavy in her stomach, her eyes followed by tears pooling in her eyes, threatening to fall once more.

“There are no tools or potions to reverse this kind of damage.” Vesemir breaks the silence. “Of course, the transition itself is a great risk. I imagine however, a small chance for Cain is better than zero chance.”

“This….this is the only ch-choice we have. It has to be done. I will not allow my son to die.” Y/N looks at Cain lying on the table. He is completely unconscious.

“Mama…I wanna do it too.” Oman chimes in.

A sudden coldness rushes through Y/N’s veins. “What?!? No! That is not necessary!” She turns to Vesemir. “I will not risk the lives of both of my children!”

“Mama, please! I wanna be able to help him! I could teach him how to do stuff! He’s little, he needs me! I don’t want to stay human when he’s gonna be a witcher!!” Oman begins to shout. “If I was a witcher, Cain would have never gotten hurt!! I could have made the bears go away!!” His fists are at his side, balled up.

Speechless, Y/N glances at Vesemir.

“What….what do you think Vesemir?” She questions.

“Well….it’s not the worst idea a child has had. It’s true, Cain will need Oman with this transition. He won’t know how to be so incredibly different from his own brother. He might need the support of his own blood. However….it is also true that the risk remains.”

“Oman, do you really want this? Do you really want to undergo the same mutations as him? You want to go through all the training?”

“Please, Mama!!”

“.....Very well.” Y/N’s voice shakes. “Vesemir, let’s get this done. Before I lose Cain. We’re out of time.”

“It will be done. Y/N, please pick up Cain off of the table and follow me.”

A short walk down a dark and cold hallway is all it takes to reach the new destination. Upon entering, Y/N observes four twin sized beds, all aligned in a row against a wall. Each bed features a wooden headboard and two wooden posts at the foot of them. The headboards and posts all have small rope loops attached to them. She squints to look closer at each headboard and thinks she sees…..scratches?

“Oman, lie down in one of the beds.” Vesemir orders. “Y/N, place Cain down on another.”

Oman practically jumps onto a bed. Y/N side-eyes him before laying Cain down on the adjacent one.

“What is….um….what are the ropes for?” Y/N’s curiosity gets the best of her.

“The transition is….a complicated process, to say the least.” Vesemir glances back and forth between the two boys. “They need to be restrained down.”

With a silent nod, she gently places Cain’s wrists and ankles through each loop. She takes a deep breath, disturbed by the sight before her, never guessing that their lives could have ever turned out like this. Even worse, she turns to help Oman, who took it upon himself to put his own hands and feet through the loops. Her thoughts and focus are interrupted as another witcher enters the room.

“What’s going on? Why is the other boy strapped down? He’s healthy!” Eskel questions.

“Eskel-” Vesemir starts to speak.

“No. This isn’t what was supposed to happen. It’s bad enough that one has to go through it to save his life. He is healthy and CONSCIOUS at that. He will feel everything. This is not necessary…..Vesemir, you must see that.”

“This….this is what Oman and his mother want.”

Eskel whips his head to Y/N, who instinctively looks down with guilt. This angers him, prompting him to walk right up to her.

“You are making a mistake.” Eskel looks at the two children, perfectly positioned within the beds. “And you must live with it now.”

Before Y/N can respond, Eskel exits the room, slamming the door behind him. Vesemir ignores the interaction, knowing he must move fast. He grabs a large syringe off of a shelf to his right and fills it with a golden colored liquid. The concoction is made up of forktail spinal fluid, one manatcore poison gland, one albino bruxa tongue, bryonia, ribleaf, and one mandrake root crushed together and blended. The witcher takes one more look at Y/N, who is still nervously darting her eyes back and forth between each of her children, then he moves over to Cain’s right side. Not wasting anymore time, he pushes the needle into the boy’s arm vein, slowly pressing the end of the syringe allowing the fluid to enter his body. Once it is all in, Vesemir pauses for a moment to observe his resting face. It remains unchanged.

“Are you ready, boy?” Vesemir asks Oman, now standing adjacent to his bed.

Oman does not respond with words but simply nods his head, feeling determined to make the change for his brother. Vesemir gives him a tight-lipped, thin and sympathetic looking smile, then repeats the process of pushing the needle into his skin. A subtle wince comes across Oman’s face as he tries to hide his discomfort.

“And now we wait.” Vesemir says quietly, almost coming to a whisper.

Only about ten minutes pass before Oman begins to stir uncomfortably. Vesemir glances at Y/N, knowing what is about to come. The slow process of the chemicals breaking down the children’s human components has begun. It is an odd case of luck that Cain is completely unconscious, unaware of the excruciating pain that is to follow. The room fills with Oman’s groaning and yelling, no longer capable of holding back the pain and irritation. First comes their new speed and endurance. The two youngsters can now keep up with werewolves and other creatures of incredible speed. Golden liquid rushing through their veins, the ability to be immune to almost all human diseases arises. While the children become stronger than Y/N could ever imagine, she is struggling more than ever to keep it together listening to her one healthy child yell and scream and watching the other stay as still as a wood plank.

Y/N’s breathing hitches and her muscles tense up as Oman suddenly becomes silent. As she and Vesemir observe the two boys, the room becomes so quiet that someone could notice the sound of a feather drifting down onto the floor. Time seems to pass in slow motion, even though only minutes have passed before the witcher walks over to Oman. A mere foot away from the boy’s face, he waits silently. All of a sudden, his eyes open and a brief weak smile appears on Vesemir’s face.

“Come look at your boy.” He says to Y/N.

She hesitates slightly but takes small steps over to Oman’s bedside. He is still quiet and barely moving around yet but his eyes are now completely open. A gasp escapes Y/N’s mouth. Lying before her is her once typically innocent eleven year old son who features the same colored eyes, but now resembling a feline’s, a slit running down the middle of each. Upon seeing this, the reality of everything that has happened up to this point fully sets in. Y/N realizes their lives will never be what they were just two days ago.

With his composition, eyes, immunity, strength, speed, and senses heightened dramatically, Oman begins to settle and become more comfortable. He has survived the transition. Assuming her oldest child is stable for the time being, Y/N rushes over to Cain to check his progress. Vesemir, already standing with him, glances at Y/N, then back to the boy. He sighs deeply and slowly lifts his shirt that was covering his wound.

“Oh….oh gods!” Y/N’s hands fly up to cover her mouth, stifling a chuckle. “It’s….it’s just a-”

“Scar.” Vesemir cuts her off, a grin creeping up on his face.

Seeing how his wound changed, Vesemir decides to check his eyes next. Gently, he pulls one of Cain’s eyelids upward to expose his irises. His eyes resembled a feline’s, just like his older brother. One difference was immediately apparent, however. The color of them was pools of melted gold, similar to the witcher Geralt. A type of golden color that was both smooth and solid, yet held so much power within it.

“Well, it seems that both of your boys have successfully made it through the transition. That….is impressive. I would be lying if I said I had no doubts. Most children do not survive.” Vesemir pauses briefly. “Oman and Cain are stronger than most, I suppose.”

*THREE DAYS LATER*

The intense scent of Lambert’s questionable dinner stew filled the Great Hall’s air. One can only describe the smell of his ….odd cooking as similar to sweat. How he got the food to that point is a mystery. The aroma seems particularly strong today to Oman and Cain now that they are fully recovered and are still becoming used to their heightened senses. Everyone is sitting at the same table and benches. Eskel sits across from the new witchers, stirring a spoon in his untouched bowl of stew. His eyes lock with Oman’s.

“What are you staring at me for?” Oman asks Eskel.

Eskel stops stirring his spoon in circles and sits up straight, placing his hands on his thighs.

“When shall we begin your training?” Eskel questions the older boy.

“Can you train us Eskel?? Please, please, please!!” Cain begs. “You saved our mama!!” A large grin appears on his face. “And me!!”

“Yeah, can you, can you?!?” Oman says.

Eskel chuckles lightly, completely dumbfounded. The last thing he expected from the new witchers was to be begged for him to train them and teach them all there is to combat and dealing with the different talents and abilities of dangerous monsters throughout the continent.

“Well….I suppose since you have already gone through and survived the transition, it would not make sense for me to refuse to help you the rest of the way. You’ll need knowledge on how to live through the Path.”

“Really?!? Let’s start right now!!” Cain shouts.

Eskel laughs. “We will start in the morning, it’s late. Now,” He stands and steps over the bench where he was seated. “finish your supper then get some sleep. You will most definitely need it.”

Y/N’s eyes slowly flutter open the next morning, ending her peaceful night’s sleep. The sun beams through a small window within the room she chose to stay in for the night, the warmth of such gently kisses the skin on her face and shoulders. It is a warmth that she had not fully felt for days since the attack. The sun has shone since then but the ice cold fear was rendering the rays useless until now.

Not long after she opens her eyes, the events of the previous night come flooding back to her. Her boys need to start training today. This motivates her feet to move onto the hard stone flooring and over to her small burlap sack of clothing she had managed to grab before departing for Kaer Morhen. She tosses on a white flowing blouse and dark forest green trousers she had made out of a repurposed blanket several years before. A piece of thin leather scrap is tied around her waist, serving as a belt to hold up the just barely too large fabric.

Even after being at Kaer Morhen for almost a week, Y/N can’t help but stand for a moment and gawk at the huge doors of the entrance before passing through them. Once outside and taking in the sun’s complete effect, she admires how the clear blue sky is perfect for a day like this. She smiles softly when she notices Oman and Cain armed with wooden short swords, unleashing relentless attacks against various helpless training dummies with only wood and straw for defense.

“Boys! Remember what I said about your footwork! One wrong step and you’ll be gutted by an Archgriffen! Their claws won’t wait for you to figure it out!” Eskel shouts from several feet behind them, pacing back and forth to examine each and every movement of the children. “And don’t forget to block and brace! It’s not all about offense!” He chuckles and then turns around to face Y/N, having heard the sound of her hair blowing through the gentle breeze.

A smirk appears on his face as he then makes his way over to a rack holding two steel

swords and a single fir wood shield. “Oman and Cain, over here!” He motions with his hand for them to come towards him. “So,” Eskel holds the shield up to himself. “let’s show your mother what you have learned so far, yeah?”

Both Oman and Cain are now sporting huge grins as they both glance at Y/N, who is still watching the situation from in front of the doors. They wave at her before turning back and start swinging their steel swords every which way at Eskel and his shield. Each and every comment he makes to the boys about their technique and movements are taken to heart. At the end of each piece of advice, the children noticeably change accordingly, following his word as if it was the law.

“Go easy on him, boys!” Y/N yells out and sees Eskel laugh at her playful comment.

“I believe your mother thinks you are the most skilled witchers we’ve seen in decades!” Eskel says and grunts, jumping out of the way from Oman’s slash attempt.

Out of nowhere, the two boys suddenly stop what they’re doing and exchange mysterious looks. Without a word of explanation, they both drop their swords and begin shouting while charging at Eskel. Confused and speechless, Eskel stands his ground, waiting to see how this is going to play out. Within the next second, he feels Oman and Cain grabbing his legs, trying to take him down. He decides to humor them and allows his body to be tackled to the ground, dropping his shield. At this point, Geralt and the red-haired witcher Y/N came to know as Lambert step outside and stand on either side of her.

“They are certainly…..creative in their methods of attack.” Geralt jokes as he watches them wrestle the giant witcher on the ground.

“I think this is their version of a break.” Y/N laughs. “They deserve it. They’ve been working so hard with Eskel. He’s….a good man. He is teaching them well. Might make you two look like mice.”

Lambert laughs loudly and obnoxiously at the statement. “I take that as a challenge. If anything, they’ll give Geralt a run for his money. He’s already got the hair of a mouse! And those feet! Daintiest trotters I’ve seen on a man! You should see him scurry!” He positions his hands at his chest and imitates a mouse running.

Geralt huffs and rolls his eyes as Y/N and Lambert both find the joke amusing.

“Boys, why don’t you come inside for a while now and eat breakfast, you’ll need it!” Y/N calls out to her children.

Without a second thought, Oman and Cain sprint over to their mother, Eskel walking at a slow pace to follow behind them.

“Mama, what’s for breakfast?” Oman asks, Cain already having entered the Great Hall.

“Well, today it’s-” Before she can finish, Oman rushes past her, following his younger brother.

“That speed of theirs will definitely come in handy for training.” Eskel chuckles.

“Their speed, you say? HA! How about their ability to take out a tree of a man three times their size by charging at his knees?!?” Lambert chimes in.

“Ha ha very funny, Lambert. It seems as if you’re a little jealous that you’ll never be as speedy and nimble as them again, old man.” Eskel fires back, emphasizing the words ‘old man’.

“Old man?!? Who the fuck are you calling an old man?!? You are–” The end of Lambert’s argument fades away as he goes inside, continuing to argue by himself.

Geralt rolls his eyes for what seems like the hundredth time before also turning to join the others inside. Y/N and Eskel are the only two left outside.

“So, Eskel.” Y/N starts. “Think you’ll be able to handle my boys?”

Eskel laughs. “I have dealt with many creatures but I must say…adolescent boys are by far the most difficult I’ve come across in my days.”

“They are definitely a handful, if I do say so myself. But….I have faith in you, Eskel.” A more serious tone fills her voice. “Thank you. For….everything. Me and my boys wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. You saved us.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Y/N. I was just-” Eskel is suddenly stunned in silence by Y/N lunging forward to give him a tight and intense hug.

After a few seconds, she pulls away. “Well, we too should go inside for breakfast. You might need your energy more than them. You’re the one who is training them, after all.”

Y/N leaves Eskel standing in place; he does not immediately follow her inside. He rubs his face with both of his hands, one pausing to rub the corner of his mouth.

“What have I gotten myself into?”

27 notes · View notes

writingmysanity · 2 years

Note

hey! could i make a request for an eskel x short!reader? preferably the same witch reader you always have, just eskel making fun of their height difference and teasing them? (established relationship) ty, i love ur writing! :)

Five times he teased you about your height, the one time you get to tease him about his

Pairing: Eskel x reader

Word count: 2949

TW: slightly NSFW? alluding to it. Also, blood, canon level though.

A/N: Okay so this got a little out of hand. It is much longer than I meant it to be. I really hope you like it!!

Also... unbeta'd completely, if there are mistakes... so be it. Oops.

Silence washes over the forest as the last of the creature falls at your feet- your sword settled snugly into its chest. Eyeing it cautiously, you watch for any movement, nearly jumping when its clawed foot twitches, the last of life melting from its body. Huffing, you wipe your hands at your pants, nose scrunching in disgust at how its blood paints your skin, the stench turning your stomach as you turn away from it, not even bothering to retrieve your sword yet.

“Esk?” you call gently, whisper swallowed by the shaking of the leaves, a sudden gust of wind cooling the splatter across your arms and face, making you shiver, absently wiping at the crimson liquid.

“You…” There is a soft gasp, and a lull in his words as he hauls himself up slowly, using a tree as support before you rush over to him, hands shooting out to steady him. Golden eyes meet yours, a weak smile crossing his scarred face teasingly. “Red really brings out your eyes,�� he chuckles before grunting in pain, staring irritably down at his arm, slashed by the creature's claws.

Rolling your eyes, you lift his arm slightly, mumbling about keeping it elevated while you help him to the horses where all of your supplies are nicely packed away. Wrapping his arm around your shoulder, you take on as much of his weight as you can, grumbling about headstrong witchers biting off more than they can chew. He just chuckles, shifting his arm to rest on top of your head, his smile stretching into an all out cheshire grin, eyes dancing with mirth.

“What? You told me to keep it elevated.” you fight the urge to just drop him, eyebrow quirking up at him, unamused.

“Hysterical.”

“I thought so.”

Huffing in pain, you limp towards camp, pausing to lean against a tree to take pressure off of your ankle for just a moment. Looking down, you cringe at the sight of red bleeding through your tunic.

“Fuck,” you whine, pressing your hand on your stomach for pressure. “This was new.”

Hearing your voice, Eskel pokes his head out through the trees, a smile at the ready but sobers quickly. In a moment, he is at your side, kneeling. You ignore the fact that he also has to hunch over while kneeling to get a proper look at you. Straightening some, he just about comes eye to eye with you, worry swimming in his. Taking a deep breath, you force a smile, hoping it is convincing.

You know it isn't.

“If you think this is bad, you should have seen the other guy,” you try to joke, wincing when he lifts your hand from your stomach, gently prodding at the stab wound. He huffs at you, lips tugging into a line, unimpressed.

“Why didn't you call for me?” his voice is strained, you can hear the anger there. Anger that you know isn't aimed towards you- you know what he'd do to protect you. You shrug.

“I tried,” you mumble, knowing he can hear you. “They gagged me.” he straightens more, already standing before you can stop him, a growl tearing from his chest.

“Where are they?” you stop him, lifting your arms to cradle his jaw, ignoring the pain as you stretch. The muscles there work with his restraint, eyes boring down on you. You soften, tugging him closer.

“Dead,” you promise. He stops, blinking down at you before softening significantly, sighing as he leans down, pressing his forehead to your shoulder.

“What am i going to do with you?” he wonders out loud, arm wrapping around your middle slowly to tug you closer. Humming contently, you allow yourself to fumble into his chest, resting your forehead next to his heart, tension melting from your shoulders once you're able to feel it thundering under your palm.

“Patch me up?” you suggest after a moment, earning a snort from him and a curt nod.

“Yeah,” he sighs as he straightens up again, standing at his full height, looking down at you. “Can you walk?”

Nodding you move to push yourself off the tree, yelping softly when you suddenly put your full weight on your ankle, Eskel’s hands shooting out to catch you when you stumble.

“That's a no, Kit.” he states softly, hands moving from your hips to right under your armpits as he lifts you, your arms being forced straight, taut with the pressure. Your face squishes with your shoulders begin forced up, face scrunching up in distaste as you kick your feet a bit. He dangles you in front of him like a misbehaving cat, amusement painting his features as your feet sway a good foot and a half off of the ground.

“Say nothing,” you grouch. His silent laughter shakes his frame, and in turn, your entire body.

“Or what?” he muses, laughter subsiding. “You'll scratch me?”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you grumble, kicking out at him, barely hitting his thigh.

“No, I feel like you'd like that too much.”

Soft brown wood, smooth under your fingertips, carved- and collapsable. Grinning, you thank the shopkeeper, pressing her payment into her hand as you skip out. She just laughs, nodding after you.

Have a pleasant day, she calls after you.

Hugging it to your chest, you march up the steps of the Inn with confidence. That same confidence melts away as you reach the door to your room, peeking in to assure yourself that Eskel is still gone- away on his contract. Heaving a sigh of relief, you slide in, closing the door softly behind you as you plop on the bed to look it over again, nodding in satisfaction.

Looking around, you smile at the room. It had been more expensive, but it was bigger than you were used to- including a tub for private baths, instead of having to go to the communal baths, again. There is a dresser, topped with a mirror, and in the corner is a small kitchenette, just big enough to make your own meals, if you so choose, two cabinets hanging on the wall behind it.

Looking out the window, you hum. The sun is starting to go down, vibrant colors painting over the soft blues.

He should be back soon, and he will be hungry. Of that you are sure.

Hopping down from the bed, you move to the kitchenette, beaming as you get to use your new stool. Setting it out, you flatten the top, stepping on it slowly to test it before putting your full weight on it. When it holds, you look up, laughing in delight as the cupboards are right in your line of sight, immediately starting to pull things down to cook.

As you are finishing up rummaging around in the space, Eskel steps in. The door shuts quickly behind him before he looks up at you, his sweet smile stretching further, watching you.

“What is that?” amusement is plain in his voice as he strides to your side, hands settling on your hips to steady you as his sudden presence startled you enough to knock you off balance. Swallowing, you glance up at him through your eye lashes. Even with the stool, he is still taller than you by a head.

“A… stool?” you grumble, hands resting over his. Giving your hips a soft squeeze, he looks down, staring at it, eyebrow arching at you.

“Why?” sighing, you cross your arms, preparing for his teasing.

“To save my knees,” you mumble. His eyebrows shoot up, a shit eating grin stretching across his face as his hands come to rest behind you on the counter, caging you in, a sparkle in his eyes in spite of his exhaustion. “I keep hitting them when I have to climb things.” you clarify, flicking him in the forehead.

His laugh startles you, pulling a smile from you as well as he playfully rubs at his forehead where you flicked him.

“Sure, Kit,” he hums. “Whatever you say.”

Eskel’s hand comes back towards you out of habit, a silent invitation, as hoards of villagers swarm around you, bumping and pushing without even so much as looking up or apologizing. Immediately, you take it, watching the scarred side of his mouth tick up, feeling the size difference in your hands. Silently, he looks behind him, eyes glowing like sunlight, enthralling you- beckoning you like a sunflower to their rays.

“Stay close,” he hums, tugging you closer. Nodding, you rest your cheek on his arm, other hand coming to cradle the back of his arm. He smiles at the sensation, leading you through the crowds, ignoring the sneers and quiet jeers of those who notice who he is.

You are just about to turn to give that last guy a piece of your mind when Eskel tugs you back to him with his hand firm around yours, giving you a soft smile.

“How about some fruit?” He offers, voice gentler than usual. A distraction, because while he appreciates that you'd go to bat for him, he would rather you didn't. Too many out there willing to hurt you to get to him. Sighing, you nod slightly.

“Yeah, sounds nice.”

Silently, he leads you to the stall at the edge of the village, an elderly woman standing there with crates of different fruits and vegetables that are in season. She eyes Eskel closely, so he stands back as you go looking to find what you'd like. She doesn't say anything to this, only seems to relax some, helping you inspect each piece. Two peaches and a bunch of grapes.

He only steps forward to pay, and to her credit, she sends up the slightest of smiles, nodding to him. He nods gently, handing her the coins before turning back to you, smiling now.

“Onward!” you cry playfully, making him laugh, nodding. You motion to a group of trees lining the edge of the village, overlooking the lake nearby. You just about melt when he places his hand on the small of your back, smiling up at him. He relaxes the more you head out of town until you're right on the banks of the lake.

“What would you like?” you hum, holding up the fruit. He looks over them for a moment before grinning, swiping both of the peaches making you gasp at him.

“These,” he states as a matter of factly, eyes shining like melting gold in the sunlight.

“But I wanted one of those,” you whine, reaching for them. Giving you your favorite crooked grin, he lifts them well above his head, knowing you can't reach them.

“Then grab them.” he challenges, tilting his head slightly. Huffing, you look him over slowly, debating on how you want to go about this. The trees aren't close enough for you to use as leverage… there are no rocks, and you'd rather not actually hurt him to get the fruit- besides… he's wearing a cup.

Sighing, your head swings low for a moment, rolling your shoulders.

“Fine,” you hum, meeting his curious eyes as you step back before taking quick steps back towards him, bouncing on the ball of your foot and jumping. Your hands lift to meet his shoulders, hauling you up higher, your legs coming to wrap around his waist, the motion catching him off guard. Instinctively, his hands move to catch you, one hand wrapping under your legs, the one holding the fruit lowering slightly, forgetting what he was doing for a moment, breath catching in his throat.

Grinning to yourself, you slide one of your hands to his neck, scratching up the back of his head gently, toying with the hair there watching his mouth fall slack a bit. Taking advantage of his attention now being on you instead of the fruit, you lean up, stretching your neck some to meet his other hand- winding your free hand around his wrist, tugging it down to you slightly, allowing you to take a bite of one of the peaches. Humming happily, you lick at your lips, lapping up what juice that started to run down your chin, looking back down at him.

He is stone, eyes wide- pupils blown. You swear that he isn't breathing, until you lean down, brushing your lips over the scars on his lip.

“They’re sweet this year,” you purr, teasingly, nose nuzzling into his cheek. “Want to taste?”

This brings him back to life- earning a breathy groan, “Fuck.”

Immediately, he drops the fruit, his hand wrapping around you roughly, pulling you closer. Looking up at him again, you meet his eyes, dark pupils blown to where you can hardly see the gorgeous darkened bronze. You smile, fingers splaying over his shoulder as his lips meet yours.

“Eskel?” you call, trees weaving past you, looking around frantically. Your voice echoes painfully through the open space, fading to a whisper when your voice finds its way back to you, as if beckoning him. Wincing, you stifle your whimper, pausing only to catch your breath, leaning your back against a tree.

“Eskel, please,” you choke out, fighting the trembling in your limbs as you push yourself back up, stumbling back to your feet, moving towards where you heard the screaming earlier. “Just answer me, something. Anything.” you beg, pushing through the undergrowth, ignoring how it cuts through your clothes and pulls at your skin.

If he was anywhere near, he would hear you.

Soon, you stumble into a clearing, blinking rapidly to adjust to the brightness of the light compared to the dim shadows of the trees. Rubbing at your eyes, you squint.

“Oh i'm going to be sick,” you rasp, looking at the scene before you warily, stepping further in slowly. Two creatures and a body- a woman. She is laying face down, but you recognize the clothing. She was the witch that was after Eskel, her blackened hair swirling around her, thickened with blood. Looking around frantically, you find Eskel’s sword lying just a few feet from her- both of them- splattered with blood, the brilliant blades searing in the sunlight.

“...Esk?” you call softly, swallowing. “Love, please… please come out- if you’re hurt i can heal you. Its just me, i swear.”

Nothing.

Blinking back tears, you slide forward stooping to collect his swords. He will need them when you find him.

Not more than a few feet away from his swords, half hidden in the grass, is a small body. Tiny enough to be a doll- maybe 6 inches tall. Frowning, you shuffle closer to him, leaning down to poke at it.

It isn't unusual for witches to use dolls to control people, but it isn't a practice you've seen done recently. And this doesn't look like any doll you've ever seen. The details are too… detailed. They're normally very vague- a piece of the Victim sewn in for the spell to work. It isn't necessary for the doll to look like the target themselves.

Shuffling forward, you lean over it, gently moving to turn it over, the limbs flopping with the movement, moving more like lead then cloth- and is much too solid. Lifting it slowly, you cradle it in your hands, its head resting snugly in one palm as you look it over, watching with wide eyes as the chest rises and falls.

There is no doubt who it is- his scars almost non-existent, but his tousled hair and bright red gibson.

“Esk?” you ask slowly, your voice must be much louder now that you're so close. His tiny body jerks, reaching for his swords out of muscle memory, looking around in a daze, his eyes slowly lifting to meet yours- his brilliant yellow eyes unmistakeable.

“Kit?” His voice is smaller, closer to that of a child, holding none of the baritone or chill it usually does. The squeak makes your lips twitch, as you look at him with care, nearly melting into the ground in relief.

“Oh, thank the gods- you're alive.” he winces, rubbing gingerly at his ear with one hand.

“What happened?” you shake your head, shrugging, careful not to jostle him too much in your hands now that he is sitting up.

“I don't know, you didn't come back last night, and then I heard these awful screams- they sounded like you. I…” you pause, blinking away the tears, shaking off your terror. There is the lightest tap on your palm where he is patting your hand, giving you a slow smile.

“Okay, Kit… It's okay… Im okay.” he states the last bit with slight uncertainty. He doesn't know what happened. Or why he is this size. You nod, accidentally shaking him in your hand.

“We uh… do you think Triss or Yennefer would be able to help you?” you ask softly, gently moving to stroke his head, softening. He is cute this way. He huffs at the fact that he finds himself leaning into your mistrations, rubbing his cheek against the pad of your finger.

“They might,” he hums, the higher pitch making you giggle, pouting when he bites at the pad- the feeling closer to what would normally be a nip. “Hey!” you watch in amusement as his face scrunches up in distaste.

“Can we just go?” he grumbles, your lips twitching a bit, trying not to laugh at him.

“Sure, love,” you hum. “Would you like to travel on my shoulder or my pocket?” if looks could kill, you'd probably be dead, an eyebrow quirking at you, unamused.

“Hysterical.” you have to fight your grin, snickering as you place him on your shoulder.

“I thought so.”

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