monstrocities | (no subject)

Eskel snorts, turning half his face into the pillow.

"Not the kind of witcher they write songs about." He reminds the bard. "And I can hear Geralt bragging whenever I want. Come sing me a song about somethin' else though, if you want." Maybe it'll keep the bard out of everyone else's way. They can be useless together, shut up in this out of the way room.

He does feel better though, at the moment. He supposes two satisfying releases in a row will do that, combined with food and feeling a little bit cleaner. It's hard for him to articulate his gratitude but he hoped Jaskier is accustomed enough to the social shortcomings of witchers that he won't be too bothered. That the fact that Eskel might actually just roll over and go to sleep as if almost-comfortable for the first time in a long time will be a sufficient illustration of the good it's done him.

"Well, I'm off to sneak into Geralt's room, now. I'll come back tomorrow," he promises. "Or later tonight, but nevertheless, this is not the last you'll see of me." And with that, he makes his dramatic exit, flourishing out of the room.

Once he leaves, he does go to write several letters, to see if anyone he knows might be able to help Eskel with his injury. Eskel had mentioned that Triss had done what she could, but there must be more that someone else can do. Yennefer can't, even with her magic returned, she's never been much for healing.

After that, he sneaks into Geralt's room to share a bath, and brag about his afternoon with Eskel, hoping that will encourage the other Witcher to visit his brother.

Eskel naps for a while, dozes until the old man comes to change his bandages. If Vesemir notices anything particularly suspicious, he doesn't say, but Eskel's pretty sure he saw the man give a judgemental sniff at the scent he's wearing.

He dozes for a while longer until he gets hungry but he's sure most everyone's gone to bed. Some bread and a different book from the mouldering library shelves (and the bottle of pepper vodka he's pretty sure nobody's found yet behind a century old book on flora of the Pontar Valley) should hold him until morning. He straps on his brace and limps downstairs, trying not to make too much noise.

Winters at Kaer Morhen are usually very quiet. It gives Geralt and his brothers a moment's respite from the demands of the road. They are able to rest, train, make potions in an actual lab instead of being forced to do so while travelling. Geralt has always enjoyed his winters, since they mean regular meals that he doesn't always have to cook, a guaranteed bed, and some peace. It also means spending time with Eskel, who has always been his favourite (don't tell Lambert).

This winter has been very different.

It's been very difficult for Geralt, firstly with thinking that he may need to kill Eskel, his best friend, and sometimes lover. He still cannot fathom the idea that he may have had to do it. He'd been ready, as well, thinking that if anyone was to give Eskel a proper, respectable death, it was him. Thankfully, Vesemir had found a cure, nearly too late. Geralt will never cease being thankful for that.

But now things between he and his brother are strained, and he hasn't gone to see him. And Yennefer is here, after betraying him worse than anyone has ever done in his long life. And there's Ciri to contend with, Jaskier, and everything seems like it's just too much.

That's why he's sitting alone in the mess hall with a bottle of white gull in front of him. He's already gotten into it.

Jaskier had come into his room earlier, smelling of Eskel. And if Geralt hadn't heard his moans echoing through the halls, this would have made their coupling obvious. Geralt isn't jealous in the way that he wants to keep Jaskier to himself, it's quite the opposite. Having Jaskier to himself would be exhausting. Of course, he and the bard are close, and they fuck often while traveling together, but having all of that love and attention centered on him seems like his very own personal nightmare. He often encourages Jaskier to bed others, even though they always come back to each other in the end.

Until the mountain, at least.

He doesn't want to think about that.

Thankfully, he hears a noise, a distraction. He looks over toward the entrance to the room, only to see the last person he'd expected. "Eskel."

He'd made the mistake of assuming Geralt would be with the girl, watching over his Child of Surprise as she thrashed in the grip of nightmares. Or perhaps patching things up with Yenn. Or maybe entertaining Jaskier, now he can easily imagine the bard trying to bed two witchers in one day as if it were a sort of game.

Instead his brother's voice, that familiar low rumble that's as much a part of his sense of home as these decaying stones, greets him as he goes to cross the mess hall. He jumps, reaching for the edge of a table to catch himself.

"Wolf!" He says. "Scared the hell out of me, sitting down here in the dark. Thought everyone had gone to bed." He gets himself balanced again and resumes his limping passage across the mess to rummage through the sparse larder of winter rations. Keeping his distance, head down.

"Don't let me disturb you." He promises. "Just wanted to get something to eat without bothering the old man about it. I'll be out of the way again in a minute." Probably no chance of going to look for his vodka now, he'll have to content himself with what he can find here.

He can smell the white gull in the air, wonders why his brother is drinking alone down here in the cold and the dark. He clears his throat, wondering how it became so difficult to talk to a person who once felt like an extension of himself.

"I take the silence means Jaskier's not with you."

Geralt watches Eskel make his way across the mess hall, watches him rummage for something to eat. It seems strange, that Eskel wouldn't ask for what he needs but then again, knowing his brother, Eskel likely feels like a burden right now, although Geralt doesn't think that anyone else feels that way. "I'm not disturbed," he says quietly.

Geralt takes a sip of the white gull and says, "bring another glass over. More than enough for both of us."

He smirks internally at the question about Jaskier, hoping that a little teasing will ease the tension, he says, "missing the bard already?" Eskel must know that the whole keep heard them earlier today. He must know that it's not a secret they'd been together. "He's in my room, sleeping. Seems like someone wore him out."

In the chaos surrounding Jaskier's arrival, no one had thought to give him one of the many empty rooms, so Geralt had just gathered him up and brought him to his own. There, they'd finally gotten a chance to talk, and then they'd made up quite spectacularly. Geralt hadn't bothered looking for a room for him after that.

Probably for the best, at least Geralt could keep Jaskier warm, what with all the drafts in the vacant witchers' rooms he might have been given to pick from.

Eskel pauses, in the middle of tucking a couple of sad winter apples into his pockets. He squints at his brother-in-arms in the dark. The invitation to sit and drink fills him with an anxiety he doesn't usually associate with Geralt of all people. He's trying to think of a way to refuse when Geralt's lips twitch and he speaks again.

The scarred witchers face flushes hot everywhere except the line of twisted flesh up the side of his cheek.

"You gonna give me a lecture about it?" He asks, trying to keep his tone teasing as he gets a cup and makes his way over to the table, self-conscious of the stiff, rocking gait he's been left with. He'll he glad to be free of this brace, if it means he has to have a medic somewhere below the Gwenllech re-break the bone and set it straight.

He sits across from Geralt, wincing as he maneuvers the leg. Well, he'll have to stay here awhile, whatever Geralt has in store for him. No hasty exists, at the moment.

"For the record, he started it. I certainly didn't expect my lunch to come with anything extra."

Geralt pours some of the liquor into the glass that Eskel brought with him. Perhaps with its help, the two of them can find some peace, although Geralt wouldn't blame Eskel if he never forgave him. He'd been so ready to kill his brother when they thought they wouldn't be able to cure him of the Leshy's affects. That's not something that would be easy to get over, even if Eskel understands that it was out of necessity.

The main reason he's been avoiding him is because he doesn't want to know where Eskel stands with the rift that's currently between them.

"Why would I lecture you about it? Jaskier does as he wishes." And Geralt is glad for it, as long as the bard always comes back to him. His mouth quirks up in a grin when Eskel describes what happened, and he says, "you should have expected it. I've told you enough about him." In years past, Geralt hasn't kept his relationship with Jaskier a secret. Eskel knows more about it than he probably wishes to, considering Geralt's been with both Eskel and Jaskier. "He said he's going after Lambert next. It'll be a challenge, but Jaskier's pretty enough, I think. But don't tell him I said that."

"He'd be better trying it with Coën." Eskel says. "Coën's like me...man with an ugly face knows how to make do with what he can get." He says, gesturing to the side of his face that corresponds with the side of Coën's that ravaged by smallpox scars, his eye that was somehow unchanged by his trials because of the damage done to his body by the disease.

Eskel's quiet for a moment, draining his cup of white gull. Unlike most alcohol, it hits his system quickly and he feel blissfully dizzy and a little numb.

"I'm glad. That you're not mad, I mean." He says, his head slumping between his shoulders, like a wolf that bows to beg forgiveness. "I don't think I could take you bein' anymore pissed at me than you already are."

"I'm sure he'll get to Coen," Geralt says around a smile. It's funny how easy it is to express his affection for the bard to everyone but him. "Perhaps even Vesemir." He refills both of their glasses, fully intending to realize his goal of getting drunk tonight. It seems like Eskel's goal is the same.

The next thing that comes out of Eskel's mouth makes him pause, however. Why would he be upset with Eskel? Geralt understands that since they arrived back in Kaer Morhen, Eskel's actions were very much affected by the Leshy. He wasn't himself, and Geralt can't blame him for that. But, first things first.

"You know me, brother," Geralt says. Eskel probably knows him better than anyone else. "Jaskier, he's- he's important to me. But he needs his freedom, and I need mine. It works better this way."

There's more to talk about in that sentence though, and the alcohol is loosening his tongue. It's probably for the best. "I'm not angry at you. Not about Jaskier, and not about the Leshy. I thought... I thought you were angry with me. Fucking my bard to make a point, maybe."

"I figured you'd be pissed at me cause I did somethin' stupid, almost killed everybody and now I'm a cripple." Eskel says gloomily. "And..." He drains his cup again, fingers white knuckled where he grips it, as he struggles with what he needs to say next.

"And I am angry with you. A Child of Surprise? How could you? Don't you know better?"

Forty years ago, the same year Jaskier was born with his viscount's silver spoon in his mouth in far away Lettenhove, Eskel had called a law of surprise after saving monarch of a petty kingdom that was since absorbed into the current realm. Being a young witcher then, Eskel had hoped for a new horse, a blade from the Royal armory. But instead, he learned that the queen had discovered she was pregnant. In seven years time, the child would be his by right. But being a young witcher, Eskel shirked his responsibility. He'd learned the child was a girl anyway, what use did he have for a girl child? And all the mages were dead then, there could be no more witchers. Off the hook, he thought, but he still took an extra week getting home to ride as far away from the city as possible. His irresponsibility had brought down the full wrath of Destiny. His child of surprise had grown up under the curse of the black sun, like the murderess Shrike who had made his brother the Butcher of Blaviken. When it came time to balance the ledger, death came to the gates of Kaer Morhen. Unable or perhaps still unwilling to help her, Eskel had allowed the remaining witchers to put it to a vote. She would be turned away, but he would carry the news of this fresh abandonment to her himself. She had carved her displeasure into his face, laid it open to the skull and ripped his belly open like a fish. Only magical intervention had saved him, but left him maimed for life. The young woman then road down the mountainside and began a campaign of ravenous violence, knowing he would have to witness the aftermath every time he came home for winter. In that kingdom they still tell the story of the brutally scarred stranger who so gently laid her body in the city square and fled before the bounty could be paid to him. He had never recovered from the guilt and the shame of those years. Not ever.

"Why didn't you tell me?!" He snarls, feeling anger he hasn't allowed himself to feel bubble up in his chest. "You know what the Law of Surprise does if it is not heeded! If you did not want the girl, I would have taken her on your behalf just to see that the Law was satisfied. I don't know what I would have done but the old man could have helped me. Why did you do to her what I did to Deidre? You should have tried to talk sense into the Lioness. Or just kidnapped the girl. Why didn't you at least tell me?! You've been my best friend since we were brought here!" His first sparring partner, his first friend, his first experience fearing for the life of someone else as the Trial of the Grasses leeched all the color out of his brother's skin and hair, first person he got drunk with, first person he raced a horse against, his first kiss, his first lover. Two drops of water, always together, I couldn't even tell you apart, the old man used to say.

To know Geralt had kept a secret like this from him made Eskel's insides hurt almost as bad as the leshy's roots had.

"And...and you were so busy dealing with that I felt like I couldn't ask you for help." He says, bitterly. "I came home and needed you and suddenly I felt like I didn't even know you. How could you have hidden this from me? The old man maybe, sure. But me?"

He's shaking but it feels like he does when he's purged the toxins from too many potions. The poison is outside of him now, at least.

Now he waits.

That... was not what Geralt thought Eskel would be angry at him about, but it is fair for it to be the reason. "I thought you were angry about me being so willing to kill you." He takes a healthy drink from his cup and closes his eyes, trying to think of how to explain it.

"I didn't know she was with child," he says after a long silence. "I fucked up, Eskel. I know that." Geralt's fucked up so many things in his life, and this is just another one of them. He's fucked things up with Yennefer, with Jaskier, with Ciri and now with Eskel too. He doesn't know how to make it right except for telling the truth. "I was embarrassed. I should have learned from your mistake, but I didn't. I made the exact same one, and ran just like you did."

The difference is that Geralt had eventually gone back, realised that he had to, and gone to claim his child surprise. "When I returned for her, Calanthe lied, tried to pass off another child as the princess. She was never going to give Ciri to me, not while she was alive. It took her death for Ciri to even learn of me, and know that destiny was guiding us both. When I tried to find her after the castle was sacked, she was already gone. I thought she might be dead."

He'd kind of expected Geralt to get mad, defend himself. Maybe it's for the best, he's not in any condition for there to be fists involved, as there had been when they were boys.

But that would have been easier than the way Geralt slumps over his drink.

"I wasn't mad at you for trying to kill me. You didn't know the old man could get me back. If I had to be put down to save everyone else, that just makes you a better witcher than I was for getting myself in that mess in the first place."

"I wouldn't blame you if you were," Geralt replies. "I didn't want it to be me, but I didn't think that you would want it to be anyone else." Even if Eskel isn't angry at him about this, he still thinks he'll carry the guilt. And now, he's carrying the guilt of a much larger indiscretion. "Eskel, I'm sorry." And Eskel should know that Geralt never apologizes. Although, he's been doing a lot more of that recently. First with Jaskier, and now with Eskel. He'll probably have a lot more apologizing to do by the end of the winter, too.

"I just want things to return to how they were." He misses Eskel. He's jealous of Jaskier for having the ease with Eskel that he wishes he still had. It's unfair to have to regain that intimacy with Eskel of all people, but Geralt knows it's his fault.

"I'm glad that I didn't have to kill you. I'm glad you're still here."

The other witcher stares at him across the table. Briefly, he wonders if the white gull combined with the stuff Vesemir gives him for pain is making him hallucinate. Better have some more just to be sure.

He sighs.

"Too late for that now." He says of a return to how things had been before. "For both of us." He sighs. "Now we just gotta figure out where we're going from here. You've got your child of surprise, your accidental djinn-wife and the bard to deal with. And I'll be lucky if I don't end up puttering around here like the old man until the boredom kills me."

Geralt bites his lip, immediately shaking his head. He won't accept Eskel not returning to his former strength. He's always been the biggest and strongest of all of them. Geralt can't accept that there's no cure to his ailments.

"Yennefer and I are done. This betrayal has cut too deep," Geralt mentions, coupled with another gulp of the white gull. The idea that Yennefer could think that exchanging Ciri for her magic is astounding to him. Ciri is the most important person for him right now, and Yennefer's betrayal is too much for him to forgive.

"And Jaskier... well, it's best to let him do as he wishes, for both of us. My only concern now is Ciri."

He pauses, "and convincing you to forgive me."

Yennefer and I are done. How many times has Eskel heard that line since witch and Witcher had been bound together? Sure, what she had done was...pretty fucked up, but Eskel won't hold his breath.

He sits hunched over his white gull, picking at a splintered spot in the table. His shoulder aches. His chest aches. Everything is going to change now, no matter how hard both of them fought it. Geralt had a novice witcher to look after now, even if she'd be different than the one's they'd been raised with. And whatever was going to happen to Eskel remained to be seen. But maybe just for a little while, before the sun comes up, before Ciri calls Geralt to fight the horrors that plague her dreams, things can be as they once were between them.

He reaches for Geralt's arm with the hand unmarred by the black lightning strike scars left by the leshen. He squeezes, a wordless promise of forgiveness.

Geralt knows he's said it before, but this time it's true. He doesn't think that there's anything Yennefer can do to make him forgive her this time. If it was his own life at stake it would be different, but she'd threatened Ciri's safety, and that's unacceptable. He doesn't know what the future holds, but right now, he's steadfast in his decision.

Geralt pours more liquor for both of them. He'd intended to get good and drunk tonight, and Eskel's interruption won't change that. Already, the alcohol has loosened his tongue, but for their relationship to mend, he thinks that he needed to actually talk for once.

Geralt covers his hand with his own, squeezing it. "We'll find a way to get you back on your feet Eskel. Jaskier has already written several letters. We will find a way."

"So he told me this afternoon while he was getting me cleaned up. But I don't know what his friends can do that Merigold couldn't. We'll see, I guess. In the meantime, I'll just try to stay out of the way." He smiles his scarred, lopsided smile.

"But maybe you can come visit me up there sometimes, yeah? Gets really fucking boring staring at the ceiling."

Geralt doesn't think that any individual will be able to help, but perhaps a several people with different skills may be able to. At least, Geralt can hope. If Eskel goes back on the Path like this, Geralt is sure that he'll die. That's not something he cares to think about.

"There's another option," he says, looking anywhere but at Eskel. "You could come stay in my room, with me. And Jaskier." Jaskier won't mind. It will just mean more dick easily at his disposal. With the dating pool at Kaer Morhen so small, Jaskier will appreciate having two Witchers in his bed.

"Isn't it a little crowded in there?" Eskel laughs. "Especially since my busted ass is gonna have to sit on the bed." He shakes his head.

"He'll be glad to know we made up." He snorts into his cup as he drains it. "Told me a whole lurid story about wanting to have both of us. At once."

Edited 2023-08-25 04:14 (UTC)

"My bed is bigger than what the old man has you sleeping in, and we would make room." Geralt doesn't like Eskel being left to stew alone like this. It's not good for him, and it leads to miscommunications like the one they'd just had. "Besides, I'm with Ciri often enough." And Jaskier gets cold.

If Eksle refuses, then Geralt will be sure to visit more often, with books and food and more white gull. It can't be easy for Eskel to be laid up like that.

"Yeah, alright." He says. "But you gotta help me on the stairs now that I'm full of white gull." He offers Geralt a lopsided, sheepish grin. "If I fall and hurt myself 'cause I've been drinking, I'll never hear the end of it from Vesemir."

The old man is just worried, of course, but his response to such a vulnerable feeling is to resume treating Eskel as if he were the wayward novice of half a century ago.

"Eskel, I know you were coming down looking for more than just food," and he's not referring to sex, or their conversation. Geralt's known Eskel long enough to know that he's got different types of alcohol hidden all over the keep. He'd likely been planning to return to his room with it, however.

"Come here." Geralt helps Eskel up the stairs nonetheless, also grabbing the remaining white gull to bring with them. He opens the door to his room for them, manoeuvering Eskel over the threshold and then depositing him on the chair just inside the door. Lighting a candle, Geralt can't help but let the smile cross his face when he sees Jaskier fully spread out across the bed. He doesn't know how the bard does it, but he always manages to take up the most amount of space possible.

He blames the white gull for the affection that momentarily overcomes him.

"Jask," he whispers, trying to rouse him a little. "Jask, you have to make room. Eskel is here."

Eskel watches his brother try to stir the bard sprawled across the bed with amusement. In the candlelight he notes a cluster of bruises exactly the span of his fingertips on the bard's hips.

"Come on, bard, shift it." He growls playfully, nudging the man with his foot.

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Whoops this got long and is also game canon so I wanted to be sure I explained lol

no, it's good! Makes sense :)

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