A/N: Post Witcher 3; Triss and Eskel remained in touch. During a contract, Eskel is injured badly and finds himself going to Triss's home not far from where he got injured. Triss nurses him back.
She smelled of calla lilies, red berries and the freshness of the breeze. Her scent gently caressed his senses as she leaned towards him and inspected the gash on his left arm, and then the deep cut on the side of his abdomen.
He knew full well that he was in poor shape, and there was no doubt that his blood already stained the pristine interior of her small cottage. This didn't seem to be a concern for his sorceress as she worked to aid him. He felt her hands against his body, maneuvering his weight as she struggled to remove his shirt and armor get better access to his wounds.
Eskel tried his best to say words of comfort to her. He wanted to let her know how grateful he was that she was helping him and how lucky he was that she had chosen to return to her respite away from the main town. He wanted to tell her that in her presence he would be all right. However, none of these words escaped his lips as much as he willed them. An intense weakness overcame him, his vision began to fade, and he struggled to keep his eyes open. Eskel blinked a few times to try to remain alert, his gaze affixed on the ceiling above him. A few more blinks, and he wondered were exactly in her cabin he was. The sound of clinking glasses made him wonder if he was stop her wooden dining table, although he was not sure of this. He did his best to stay awake, fully aware of Triss's movements as she work quickly around him.
His head rolled over to the right where he saw his torn clothing and discarded armor. When had she taken them off? He frowned as he tried to concentrate to remain conscious. A gentle hand on his cheek turned his head back to look up at his savior. Triss met his gaze.
"Eskel," she told him her voice determined, caring. "Stay with me." She brushed his hair from his face. "Please, stay with me."
He opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped by a sharp intense pain that coursed through him as Triss pressed a cloth against the wound on his abdomen.
He gritted his teeth against the pain as she started to clean his injuries and administered a healing salve and potion to help close the wound. The natural potion and salve worked immediately, first causing a searing pain as his skin glowed, and then immediately an icy sensation as it's healing affect coursed through him.
"In several minutes sleep will overcome you. Don't worry," she told him. "That's the hasylithe flowers in the potion. It will help you regenerate your health." Triss explained this to him before she disappeared shortly. He heard her movement and the shuffling of bottles and potions in the distance, and then felt her presence when she returned.
A gentle touch to his arm made him open his eyes that he didn't realize had been closed. He studied her face, filled with concern, and care. He heard her speak to him about his wound, as she carefully shifted his body on the bed. He was certain she could sense his discomfort from the sharp intake of his breath and the stiffness in his posture as he tried to move his body to aid her. Through it all he held on to her voice as she spoke to him, encouraging him to remain awake and cognizant just for a little bit longer as she re-positioned him to review a few minor cuts.
Eskel wasn't new to injury. He was a Witcher and injury during a hunting was so common that it showed in the amount of scars faded and new that littered his body. This didn't stop her from her gentle ministration of his wound. It was so clear to him through her gentle hands and cautiousness that she cared for his well being.
It wasn't often that a woman showed such care; in fact now that he thought of it, it was a first he experienced. Eskel thought of the multiple times he found himself ill or suffering from a wound, found by townspeople or travelers and ignored to suffer alone. Multiple battles in his many years alongside non-Witchers, for the same cause, didn't warrant much kindness either as being a Witcher-the yellow eyes, and the necklace, and facial scar- was a telltale sign for them to stay away and not get too close.
But she was neither of these.
She met his gaze with friendliness and openness, looked past his scars, and became a trusted friend. She understood him in ways that he felt even his own brethren Witchers would not understand. And he realized then as he laid inside her cabin, overlooking the hearth, shirtless in her view, all his scars at her very view, her hands brushing past them with no judgment, but only care and gentleness and understanding... He realized that Triss Merrigold had garnered his heart.