Red Rowan

by Indiannahjones

With the Wild Hunt defeated and Empress Ciri on the throne, Geralt thought he and Yen would be free to retire to Toussaint and settle down... but it seems the ghosts of Geralt's past are intent on coming back to haunt him. Geralt/Yen, past Geralt/Shani. [Inspired by a letter found in Witcher 3 if Geralt took the alchemists' potion in Witcher 2.]

30. Meadowsweet

A clattering from the other end of the great hall woke Geralt from his sleep with a start.

It was not unusual for the old fortress to give off strange noises at all hours, creaking and crumbling; even with the efforts Eskel had been putting into its rebuild, it sometimes fell apart again too quickly to remedy it. It was an exercise in patience trying to patch it back together, but this particular sound was not one he recognized as a stone falling, or a rat skittering across the floor—it was the sound of metal hitting metal, of something man-made, something that should not be stirring at this time of night.

Sliding his sword from beneath his pillow, Geralt set his bare feet on the floor, gritting his teeth against the cold, before he began to creep quietly in the direction of the sound, keeping his weapon poised, ready to strike at anything that might jump out at him. It was just his luck, he thought, that his very first night at Kaer Morhen would have a mage or other assailant find them there, and he held his breath as he approached the sound, keeping his ears open for any indicator of what to expect. The kitchen, he noticed as he crept closer, was all lit up, with warm firelight seeping out from beneath its boarded walls, and he could not help wondering if their assailant's plan was to burn down the fortress while its inhabitants slept. It would be a foolish plan, if that really was their intent—the wood would burn, but the stone walls would not go down so easily—and he steeled himself as he reached out a hand for the door, pushing it open to see what was inside.

The sight inside the kitchen was not what he had expected – there was no fire burning, save the one flickering in the clay stove, and there was no unwelcome assailant here either, only a very tired-looking witcher rubbing his eyes as he tried to stifle a yawn. Eskel looked nearly asleep on his feet, with his half-lidded eyes and dishevelled hair, and Geralt let out a soft snort as he stowed his weapon on a nearby table, taking a few steps closer to check on him. Eskel looked up slowly as his friend approached, not even seeming to notice him until he was barely a few feet away, before he let out another yawn, lifting a hand to cover his mouth, though it did little to hide how tired he was.

"Shani woke up," Eskel explained, blinking languidly, still trying to convince himself to do the same. "Had some late-night cravings. Couldn't say no to her, so… here I am. Making something. Got no idea what."

"Don't even know what you're making?" Geralt asked, raising a brow as a soft smirk curled a corner of his lips. This was just like Eskel, he thought – the man barely slept, but when he did, he slept like a stone, so it made sense that he would have a hard time functioning if asked to wake up unexpectedly. Thinking back on their limited time spent together, he realized he had seen Eskel sleep much more these last few months than he could ever remember him sleeping before, and he could not help wondering if his fellow witcher was starting to slow down the same way he was, taking his well-earned rest where he could get it.

Eskel closed his eyes, wavering a moment, before he quickly jerked awake again, opening his eyes with a start. "I got it," he said, holding out a hand and turning to the counter to pick up a bowl of flour. "Cherry—something. She wanted cherry…" He stopped, taking another deep breath, before he looked up at Geralt again, his face forlorn. "Ah, gods," he admitted, exasperated. "Got no idea what I'm looking for. Totally left my mind."

"Cherry," Geralt reminded him, moving to the counter to help him out. "Can make some cherry pastries pretty easy. Won't be pretty, but shouldn't be too hard."

Eskel smirked, taking a step back to allow him room to work. "Since when d'you know how to make pastries?" he asked.

Geralt shrugged, grabbing a pitcher of water from nearby. "Just a couple ingredients," he said, pouring it into the bowl of flour. "Vesemir taught us to make bread. Pastries're the same thing, just… add sugar and eggs."

Eskel hummed, folding his arms, watching his fellow witcher work. "Don't think that's how pastries work," he said, doubtful. Then, realizing he did not know any better to argue, he shrugged, turning away to look for the ingredients Geralt had mentioned. He returned a moment later with the stated items, setting the bag of sugar and two eggs beside him on the counter, before he took a step back to watch again, looking on like a student observing a demonstration. His expression was stern, thoughtful, watching Geralt knead the dough with the grace of a troll banging rocks together, until he finally seemed to realize something was missing, and he turned away again, looking for cherries and cordial. He came back again a moment later, depositing the two new ingredients on the counter as well, before he stepped back again to observe, folding his arms as he watched, as if waiting for something to happen.

"You're shit at baking, Wolf," Eskel finally said.

Geralt snorted, tearing a piece of dough from the bowl and pinching it until it was nearly flat. "Don't see you making anything better," he observed, patting it out on a nearby stone slab and reaching for the cordial. He tipped a few drops onto the dough, spreading it out until the sweet liquid covered the surface, before he dropped a few cherries into the middle, folding the edges together to form a lopsided square. Grabbing another piece of dough, he repeated the action, realizing his pastries were growing uglier with every progressive one, but he only gave a soft grunt, picking up the slab and sliding it into the clay oven. "Just gotta watch 'em 'til they're done," he said, wiping his sticky hands on his pants to clean them. "Funny. Shani's grandma liked cherry, too. Must be where she got it from."

"And how d'you know Shani's grandma?" Eskel asked, barely holding in a chuckle at the absurdity of the statement.

Geralt shrugged. "Shani used to live with her," he explained. "Had to get by her every time I came to visit."

Eskel nodded, turning his attention to the oven, though the bemused smile stayed on his face. "Makes sense," he agreed, sitting back against a nearby table. "For a second I was afraid you were gonna say you fucked her, too."

Geralt looked up at this, his expression twisting. "Really think I'd fuck someone's grandma?" he asked, incredulous.

Eskel shrugged. "Wasn't always someone's grandma," he said, fairly. "Countess Mignole was young once, too. So was Vesemir."

Geralt grunted, giving a gruff chuckle. "Yeah," he agreed, flatly. "Don't see me fucking Vesemir, either." He paused, falling silent at the thought, passing his hand across his shirt again as he thought back to their days with Vesemir – how they had never heard the old Wolf talk about his past loves, to the point that they had begun to doubt he ever had one. It had been a shock to find out about Countess Mignole, and to hear Vesemir speak about her so fondly, so wistfully, and he had to wonder if it was selfish of the rest of them to retire from the Path now, after everything he had given them. He had wanted a better life for them, and had been a stoic advocate of letting the witcher profession die, but it still felt strange to think that he had given up so much to prepare them for a life they were now leaving behind.

"Ever think about that?" Geralt asked after a moment, looking up at Eskel, his expression solemn.

Eskel hesitated, looking confused. "Think about what?" he finally asked. "Fucking Vesemir?"

"No, not—that," Geralt answered, frustrated, realizing how much he had gotten used to Yennefer reading his thoughts. "Just about… Vesemir in general. How he spent his whole life on the Path, training us. Looking after us. Never got to have a life of his own."

Eskel paused, his expression drawing, looking for a moment deep in thought as he mulled it over. "Don't think he ever minded," he finally answered, looking up again, his tone sincere. "Think he just wanted what was best for us. Why he trained us so hard. Wanted to give us a fighting chance, even after he was gone." He hesitated, falling silent, seeming to realize something in what he had said, before he looked down to the oven again, his brow furrowing deeper as he turned the thought over. "Think that's what any parent wants," he added after a moment, his voice solemn, almost strikingly grave. "Just wants their kid to live. Have a happy life. Even if they can't be there with them. That's what's most important."

Geralt frowned, surprised by his seriousness, wondering if he had missed some important detail in Eskel's outlook, before he smelled the gentle waft of cooking cherries, letting him know it was time to take the pastries from the oven. Grabbing a nearby cloth, he bent down, pulling the stone slab from the fire and setting it aside on the counter, before fanning the steaming pastries with the cloth and flipping it over his shoulder as he turned back to Eskel, triumphant. "Grab a plate," he said, jerking his head in the direction of their ragtag servingware cupboard. "Stone's too hot to bring up to her like this. Be easier to bring up on a plate."

"Can't grab a plate, yourself?" Eskel asked, crossing the kitchen to do as he was told. He pulled a plate down from the cupboard, inspecting it closely to ensure it was not caked in dust, before he gave it a quick rub with his sleeve, finally handing it over for Geralt to use. Geralt grunted, giving it another pass with the cloth, before starting to nudge the still-steaming pastries onto it, careful not to burn his fingers as he moved the tartlets from one surface to the other.

"You're a natural," Eskel teased him, chuckling as he watched Geralt struggle to align the pastries on the plate.

Geralt huffed, straightening again. "Here, smartass," he said, shoving the plate into Eskel's hands. "Let's go. Shani's waiting."

"Don't think I can carry it up on my own?" Eskel smirked, holding the edges of the plate to keep from touching the hot bottom.

Geralt shrugged. "Dunno," he answered. "Seemed offended when I told you to carry up the soup on your own."

Eskel snorted, unable to argue, only watching as Geralt moved across the kitchen for the door, holding it open to let Eskel edge past him, careful not to touch either of them with the hot serving-plate. Once Eskel was through the door, Geralt let it close behind them, following him towards the second heavy door at the end of the hall, before opening that for Eskel as well, letting him go through first, starting their long trip up the stairs.

It was quiet in the winding stairwell, a strange, melancholy silence Geralt was unused to hearing at Kaer Morhen, with even the usual sounds of woodland creatures from outside the walls muffled to nearly nothing by the thick fortification. It was a testament, he supposed, to the effectiveness of the rebuild Eskel had been doing on the place, but it still felt strangely lonesome to be so completely secluded in a place so large. He could see the fresh mortar on the walls, the spots of sheer white where the old grout had faded to brown and grey, and he passed a thoughtful hand over a newly-laid stone, wondering if Eskel had gone into the moat to retrieve it. It was an evil place, that moat—built to protect the same witchers it had ultimately become a watery grave for—and Geralt grimaced inwardly at the thought, retrieving his hand again as he followed Eskel up the next flight of stairs.

"Think we might have to leave soon," Eskel said after a moment, breaking the silence, causing Geralt to look up at the unexpected statement. "With Shani so close to her due date, can't stay here much longer. Been thinking about that. Worrying about it. Dunno where we're supposed to take her next, or how, but… can't imagine she'd want to have the baby here."

"Guess the only option'd be a portal," Geralt said, glad to have something else to occupy his mind.

Eskel frowned, turning to look down at him. "Think it's safe to portal in her condition?" he asked, worriedly.

Geralt hummed, thoughtful for a moment, his nose creasing a bit as he considered. "Probably safer than horseback," he finally answered, putting aside his prejudice against portals for the moment. "Milva said she couldn't ride after three months. Probably have to get a cart of some sort for Shani. Even then, three weeks on the road at eight months pregnant…" He paused again, making a face as he imagined it. "It'd be torture," he concluded, giving a soft grunt. "In her condition, could give birth at any minute. Go over a bump too hard, horse gets spooked by a monster—don't wanna be stuck in a forest somewhere when she starts… havin' it."

Eskel's eyes grew wide at this, his expression twisting. "Something like that could set it off?" he asked, mortified.

Geralt shrugged. "Got no idea," he admitted, honestly. "Just trying to be cautious. Think of the possibilities."

Eskel huffed, looking down to the plate in his hands. "Maybe we should just keep her here, then," he said, sounding overwhelmed. "Can't risk her going into labour on the road. And if a portal could be dangerous, better not to risk it."

Geralt grunted, looking over to the far wall, thoughtful. "Could work," he said, dryly. "Could use Sad Albert to have the baby on."

"Oh—!" Eskel breathed, the sound leaving him in a sickened wheeze, if he had been physically stabbed. "Melitele's tits, Geralt—don't say that! Gods…" He hesitated, thinning his lips, taking a deep breath to settle his rattled nerves, before he made another worried face, the cheek marred by the disfiguring scar twitching with apprehension. "Guess a portal's the only real option," he agreed after a moment, sounding as if he would rather choose anything else. "But—where can we even take her? Want her to have somewhere nice to have the baby. Somewhere clean."

Geralt thought for a moment, giving a soft hum, his gaze fixed on the stairs as he turned it over. "Only place I can think of would be Corvo Bianco," he finally admitted, looking up again. "Got a clinic there. All set up."

Eskel huffed, staring down at the tray for a while, seeming to be only half-listening, lost in his thoughts. "Guess that's our only choice, then," he finally agreed, still sounding uncertain. "I'll talk to her about it in the morning. For now… think she needs some rest."

"Think you both need some rest," Geralt agreed, reaching out to clap his fellow witcher on the shoulder. He grinned, the expression forced, giving Eskel's arm a firm shake to bolster his spirits, before he finally let go of his arm again, watching as Eskel faltered, not moving from his spot on the stairs.

He looked conflicted, Geralt realized, a look he knew as one which had kept Eskel up many a night in their younger years; he was a worrier, unlike his brothers, with a bad habit of letting the worst of his doubts gnaw at him until they made him sick. He had been that way about the Trial of the Caves, back when he was still young enough to get away with calling it a stomachache, and he had been that way about Ciri, from the moment he first learned the young trainee had gone missing from Thanedd. Another long moment of uncomfortable silence followed, until Eskel finally grunted, seeming to realize there was no more reassurance coming, and he turned warily for the bedroom door again, starting to make his way up the last of the stairs.

"Hey—Eskel," Geralt called out suddenly, making Eskel stop again, turning to face his fellow witcher. Geralt faltered, unsure what to say now to subdue his friend's fears, now that he had his attention – it had seemed like a good idea barely seconds ago, but now, he found himself with nothing to say. "You and Shani fucking?" he asked, the words leaving his mouth before he could stop them.

Eskel froze, seeming too surprised for a moment to register what had been asked of him. "…No," he finally answered, his voice flat, sounding confused. "No, we're not… doing that."

"Yen says it would be safe," Geralt added, helpfully. "Even with the baby. Wouldn't touch anything."

Eskel hesitated, before making a face, seeming uncomfortable, his hands curling tighter around the edges of the plate. "I… know that," he finally answered, his voice stiff. "But I'm not… that's not… we aren't…" He stopped, clenching his teeth, before he finally lifted his head, letting out an exasperated breath. "It's… complicated," he said, almost muttering the admission. "G'night, Geralt. And… thanks, I guess. For what you're trying to do."

"'Night, Eskel," Geralt returned, unsure if his attempt had done more harm than good, before he turned for the stairwell again, starting to make his way down towards the lower level.

"Hey… Geralt?"

Eskel's voice was soft, higher-pitched than Geralt was used to hearing, and he stopped quickly, turning to look up at his fellow witcher again. "Mm?" Geralt asked, raising his brows expectantly.

Eskel hesitated, sucking his scarred lip, seeming to have lost his nerve for a moment. "You're… okay with me being interested in Shani, right?" he finally asked, sounding like an anxious teenager. It was endearing to hear the slight tremor in his voice, the soft waver and pang Geralt had not heard in almost a hundred years; he sounded like a child with a crush, a young man asking a peasant father his permission to court, and Geralt could hardly hold back a warm smirk as he watched Eskel take another breath, fighting the urge to squirm under his gaze.

"This isn't… overstepping anything, or… breaking some trust?" Eskel asked, still waiting for an answer. "Know she's the mother of your child, but… can't help the way I feel. Just hope this doesn't hurt our friendship."

Geralt faltered, surprised for a moment, before he finally chuckled, letting his hands rest tiredly on his hips. "Shani's just a friend," he assured Eskel, fondly. "Got no problem with you seeing her. If she'll have your ugly mug."

Eskel hesitated again, still seeming uncertain, before a small, wavering smile began to creep across his scarred face, and Geralt could barely suppress a grin of his own at the sight of the most endearing expression he had ever seen. "Good," Eskel finally answered, letting out a breath that sounded as if he had been holding it for ages. "It's just… I've never felt this way about anyone before. 'Least, nobody that I can remember." He paused, his hands itching on the sides of the tray, seeming unsure what to do with himself in his happiness, before he finally let out another heavy huff, sounding as if he were having trouble learning to breathe again.

"She makes me feel… I dunno," he admitted, his smile widening. "Happy. Something I haven't felt in a while. Like there's something to look forward to, come tomorrow. Every time I look at her, I just… I feel like there's good in the world. It's… hard to explain."

Geralt smiled, understanding perfectly. "Hm," he grunted. "Don't gotta convince me. No one else I'd rather see her with." It was true, though it felt strange to say, as if he were trying to convince them both simultaneously – he was still getting used to the fact that Eskel had feelings for Shani at all, which felt odd in itself to acknowledge. Jealousy was not in his nature, nor was it anywhere in his feelings on the matter currently, but it still felt bizarre to think about, as if he were learning something entirely new about his brother.

When Yennefer had told him the first time about Eskel having feelings for Shani, he had thought the whole thing unfounded, even a bit hard to believe – Eskel was a mystery when it came to romance, and Geralt had never known him to be open about his feelings on much of anything, let alone love. He was an enigma, even more than Geralt often was, somehow both emotionally available and fiercely guarded, and the thought that he would let something like that on so plainly that anyone could pick up on it seemed far-fetched, at best. Yet now, seeing him like this, it felt almost unimaginable not to realize the depth of his affections for Shani—as if he had completely given up on hiding them, knowing they were too large, too radiant, too obvious to ignore.

The look on Eskel's face at his confirmation was worth every ounce of confusion, however, and Geralt could not help a gentle warmth from spreading through him as he watched his brother's face light up, his cheeks turning pink through his scars. He looked like a different man, almost, standing there on the step above, holding his tray of pastries – not the withdrawn, soft-spoken witcher Geralt had known all his life, but someone else, someone happier. It reminded him of their old days at Kaer Morhen, of nights sitting around the fire, warming snow from their joints; of nights spent telling tales of their adventures to a young Ciri as she looked on with wide eyes, absorbing every word. It reminded him of their days as young witchers, before they knew what terrible things the world had to offer—before Deidre, the Salamandra, and the Hunt—before everything changed, and their worldview came crashing down around them.

"…Thanks," Eskel answered, quietly, the one word more meaningful than any speech he could have given. Then, turning away towards the door again, he gave a gentle knock, before entering cautiously inside. Geralt could hear the faint sounds of conversation through the heavy door as he turned to make his way back down again, and he paused, considering listening in, before finally deciding to let the lovebirds have their privacy.

It was not his concern what they talked about – nor was it his business, though Yennefer might argue otherwise; he remembered fondly her attempt to eavesdrop on Ciri's conversation with the Lodge, an attempt he had eventually been wrangled into. She was a terrible influence on him, and one he could not imagine his life without, and he chuckled softly as he started down the stairs again, taking his time to reach the bottom.

No sooner had he reached the bottom step when he felt his leg give a twinge, sending a sharp pain radiating up his thigh, and he gritted his teeth as he massaged the muscle, knowing it was likely objecting to his long day of manual labour. He was enjoying his time here at Kaer Morhen, despite the hard work – it was nice to have some time to just sit back and enjoy his friends' company – but he could not help worrying, despite himself, what was going on outside the walls, with Dandelion, and Yennefer, and Regis. He had not heard from any of them in the day since he had gotten here, though he was sure all three of them were busy with their own affairs, and he grunted as he stepped off the bottom step, pushing open the heavy door to make his way across the great hall again.

He could not think about that now, he told himself; not when there was nothing he could possibly do about it, and he hummed as he reached his bed again, settling down on the hard straw mattress and attempting to get back to sleep. He had barely managed to close his eyes, however, when another sound found him, this one much softer than the first, and he sat up in bed again to listen, stiffening as he tried to figure out what the new sound was. It was not the sound of an intruder, he realized, as his first instinct about the sounds from the kitchen had been—rather, this was the soft sound of a human voice, female, the sound of someone moaning, or perhaps… crying. Geralt faltered, frowning at the thought, wondering what could possibly have upset Triss this late at night, but he quickly got out of bed again regardless, heading for the sound, intent on seeing what was wrong.

He paused at the sorceress' door as he reached it, holding up a hand, wondering if she might prefer him to leave her alone, before he finally gave the wood a soft rap, hoping he was making the right call in disturbing her. The sound of crying from within the room stopped as soon as he knocked, sucked in with a startled gasp, before it was let out again in a shuddering breath, as if the crier was mortified she had been loud enough for someone to hear. After another moment, he heard a shuffling behind the door, followed by the sound of a key turning in an old lock, before the door finally creaked open a few inches, revealing one cornflower eye peering anxiously through the slit.

When Triss saw who was standing outside her door, she quickly pulled it open the rest of the way, taking a step back, before wiping her face with the sleeve of her nightgown, trying to clear away the last of her tears. "Geralt," she said, sounding a bit embarrassed. "I didn't expect… but—come in! I didn't mean to keep you waiting."

"Didn't keep me waiting," Geralt assured her, sliding in through the opening in the door and letting her close it behind him. Triss sniffled, wiping at her cheeks, trying to force down the redness from her face as she turned away from him, before she made her way back for her bed, sitting down on the edge and looking up at him with a sombre expression. Geralt furrowed his brow at the sight of her tear-streaked face, moving over to sit beside her on the bed, and Triss let out a sigh as she watched him, looking up at him with tired, world-weary eyes.

"I'm sorry," Triss said, wiping her nose. "I didn't mean for you to see me like this. I guess I was being too loud… I'm not used to having other people in the fortress, apart from Eskel and Shani."

"Yen never checked up on you?" Geralt asked, concerned.

Triss let out a soft huff, shaking her head. "Yen slept at the other end of the fortress," she explained. "And Dandelion sleeps like the dead. I didn't have to worry about it while either of them was here, either."

Geralt hummed, sympathetic, nodding along slowly to the thought of her perceived privacy. "Didn't mean to intrude," he finally told her. "Can leave, if you want. Was just worried, hearing you crying."

Triss hesitated, staring down at her hands in her lap, biting her lip to keep it from trembling, before she finally took a deep breath, sounding as if she were preparing for some great speech. "Oh, Geralt…" she said, looking up at him again, her eyes brimming with tears she could not hold back. "I don't mean to make this all about me. I'm happy for Shani, really I am, but… travelling with her all these months…" She paused, pursing her lips, swallowing a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her, and Geralt frowned as he waited for her to continue, having no idea what she could possibly be leading up to.

"Well…" she said, her voice small and trembling. "It's made me realize that… I'll never be a mother, myself, no matter how much I might want to. I'd never really thought about it that much before, but… I'd love to have a little girl, Geralt. Just one. Just like me." Geralt faltered, taken aback, having not expected her to say that, of anything she might have said, but he only bit the inside of his lip, keeping himself from reacting until she was finished. "I want someone to hold," Triss went on after a moment, sounding so wistful it almost hurt him to hear. "Someone to love… to teach about the world. To help her make her way through it, day by day. Someone who looks up at me with her… big green eyes, like I'm the most important person on earth."

Triss hesitated again, her hands curling longingly into the fabric of her nightgown, seeming lost in thought, before she finally took another deep breath, one that caused her shoulders to rise and fall with the motion. "I'd never really put much thought into it, because I knew it was impossible," she admitted after another moment, sounding almost stern. "Sorceresses can't have children. We all know that. But this whole ordeal with Shani… it's made me realize, what would I honestly give to make it a reality? Would it truly be worth doing something so heinous, just to have something you never thought you could have?"

She paused again, staring at the floor, sucking her lip as she turned it over, and Geralt felt his gut tighten in the silence, dreading that she might not land where he expected her to. "No," Triss finally decided. "But at the same time… I can't blame the magic-users who hear about it and lose all sense of decency. All sense of morality. I understand their desperation. They're just like me, Geralt. Just like Yen."

"Yen would never hurt another woman, even to have kids," Geralt argued.

Triss let out another deep sigh. "I know," she admitted, sounding unsurprised he should disagree. "And neither would I. I hope you know that. But some people… they don't see it that way. They rationalize it. Here's something they thought could never be a reality, and then suddenly, there's this wild chance, this—unbelievable opportunity, and all it takes is harming a stranger. Someone they don't know, and will never have to know." She paused, staring down at the floor for a moment, her hands moving slowly across the folds of her nightgown. "I'd never do anything like that, of course," she added, soberly. "Not to Shani, or anyone else. It's just not worth it. Not to my mind. But…"

She stopped, staring at her knees, before she looked up at him again, her expression grave. "I can't say the temptation isn't obvious," she admitted, her tone solemn, knowing it was an unpleasant truth. "If there was some other way that didn't involve hurting someone… I can't say I wouldn't go through with it."

Geralt hummed, not liking how close the conversation was coming to thoughts of harming Shani, but he pushed the unsettling thought from his mind, knowing Triss would never harm her friend any more than Yennefer would. "Never known you to want a child," he admitted, deciding it best to change the subject.

Triss shrugged, looking down to the floor again. "I've never been very vocal about it," she admitted. "Especially in front of Yen. Knowing how much she wanted one, and how much it consumed her, I felt it would be in poor taste to add my own feelings on the matter. And I can't say I'm not happy as I am – I have a great life, with a great position in King Tankred's court." She paused, tapping the floor with her dainty feet, seeming lost in her thoughts for a while, before she looked up at Geralt again, her expression strange, somewhere between sincerity and melancholy.

"Which is why I think the idea keeps coming back again," she admitted, sounding thoughtful now, as if she had never quite vocalized this before. "I'm in the perfect position to have a child now – in a place in my life where I can support her, give her a good home. I guess it's just been becoming more glaringly obvious how far off those dreams are, the longer I spend around Shani." She frowned, her freckled brow creasing, her pink lips pursing as she considered her admission, before she let out another sharp breath, sounding almost exasperated with her inability to explain herself.

"I'm not a cruel person, Geralt," she told him, her voice stark, hoping to make that point clear. "I'd never be tempted to do anything that might hurt her, or her baby. But… that doesn't mean it doesn't still hurt to be around her. To see her growing this budding life inside her, knowing… I can't do the same, and never will."

Geralt nodded, deciding that, as much as he disliked the thought, he supposed he could understand where she was coming from – it was hard to imagine the idea of something he wanted so badly being dangled in front of him, knowing he could never have it. Triss sighed, seeming to realize she was giving more information than he had asked for, before she finally sucked her lip, straightening her shoulders again. "I can't really complain about everything, though," she added after a moment, sounding much more chipper, though he could tell it was obviously forced. "The fact that she's allowing me to be part of this at all is more than I could've asked for. She didn't have to let me help. Or any of us."

Geralt grunted, not sure how to respond, knowing she had a point, though it still felt like a strange one. "Really think she wouldn't let you be part of it?" he asked. "Even without the curse, don't think she's like that."

Triss paused a moment, seeming to think, before she finally looked up again, her expression hard to read. "I don't really know her, Geralt," she confessed, the admission taking him by surprise, though he supposed it should not have – though Triss and Shani had lived in Vizima at the same time during his dealings with the Salamandra, he could not remember a time when they had ever crossed paths. "We've gotten much closer since being on the run, but I don't take this opportunity for granted. She could've gone to anyone for help, but she went to you, and trusted you to put her in my care. That means a lot."

"Hm," Geralt answered, still not quite understanding, but realizing this meant something important to her. He paused, thinking it over, before he finally thinned his lips to a pensive ribbon. "Keep hearing everyone give name suggestions," he said, causing Triss to look over, surprised by the lighter change of subject. "Don't think I've heard any from you, though. Kinda surprised. Would've expected you to have an opinion on the matter."

Triss hesitated, seeming unsure for a moment, before she looked away again, folding her hands in her lap. "I did have some thoughts," she admitted, letting out an embarrassed little chuckle at the thought. "But… Yen seemed so intent on figuring out a name for a boy, I didn't want to step on her toes. She seemed to think it was important to give the baby a name that had some meaning, but… I think just a pretty name would be nice." She paused, chewing her lip for a moment, as if unsure whether to elaborate further. "Some kind of flower, maybe," she added after a beat, a slight, uncertain waver in her voice as she said it. "Like Lily, or Alstroemeria. You could call her Meri for short."

Geralt nodded, turning the suggestions over. "Lily's pretty," he conceded. "Brought that up to Shani yet?"

Triss wrinkled her nose, before finally nodding, letting out a high-pitched sigh. "I did," she admitted. "She didn't seem too thrilled with it. I also suggested Alstroemeria, but she said that sounded too 'frou-frou'."

Geralt snorted, looking down to his lap again. "Is kinda frilly," he admitted, giving a small smirk.

Triss gave his arm a fond slap. "Not you, too!" she chuckled, exasperated. "Nobody likes my name suggestions."

"Sure we'll figure it out," Geralt assured her, giving a soft chuckle of his own as he looked up at her again, grinning. "Only so many names. Gotta land on one she likes eventually."

Triss nodded, looking towards the door again, taking another long breath as she thought it over, before her expression began to sober, as if she were staring straight through the door in her grave meditation. She looked concerned, deep in thought, as if something in their conversation had struck her too deeply to fully put aside, and Geralt waited with bated breath for her to speak, watching her hands curl anxiously into the fabric of her nightgown. "Do… you think I would have been a good mother, Geralt?" she asked after a moment, the question taking him by surprise; of anything he would have expected her to say, that was far towards the bottom of the list. He had thought that part of their conversation over, though he supposed it had weighed on her more heavily than it had on him, and he furrowed his brow as he watched her suck her lip, seeming to be fighting to put her thoughts into words.

"Think you'd be a great mom," he told her, saving her from having to speak her mind further. "Think any child'd be lucky to have you as a mom. Be loved by you."

Triss took in a sharp breath at the assurance, trying hard to hide her reaction with a stoic expression, but Geralt could still see the way her shoulders stiffened a bit, her jaw clenching to keep it from trembling. This was something that had clearly been on her mind a lot recently, though he had only just become aware of it, and he wondered if his attempt to console her was only making matters worse, knowing she could never have what she wanted. "Do you think… I might be able to come visit you at Corvo Bianco?" she asked after a moment, her voice unsteady. "After the baby is born? Do you think… I could come see her, after things settle down again?"

"Welcome at Corvo Bianco anytime," Geralt assured her, reaching out a hand to put it on her shoulder. "Hope you do come around. Would love to see you. Love to introduce you to the baby."

Triss smiled, her expression wan, but she seemed only able to hold it for a moment, and she let out a long, soft breath as her shoulders fell, looking down to her lap again. "Geralt…" she said, her voice quiet, seeming hesitant to even speak this time. "I… don't know how to ask this. Please don't take this the wrong way, but… do you think you could… stay here tonight?" She paused, looking up at him again, her expression pleading, knowing how he might react. "Just tonight," she added, quickly, wanting to get it in before he could respond. "We don't even have to touch, if you don't want. I've just… been so lonely here. I could use some company, for a while."

Triss hesitated again as she finished, sucking her lip, giving Geralt a moment to respond, before she took another deep breath in the silence, her entreating gaze never leaving him, even as she fidgeted under his stare. "Shani and Eskel sleep in the same bed every night," she added, quickly. "And, just knowing they're up there together… it can get very isolating. I've never had an issue with it before, really, but somehow… this place just feels so much emptier now, with Yennefer and Dandelion gone."

Geralt hummed, furrowing his brow at her request. "Not sure I'm comfortable with that," he admitted. "Know we have a history together."

"I know," Triss answered, quickly. "But… please. I promise I won't try anything. I could just… really use someone here with me tonight. This place feels… lonelier than usual, somehow." She paused again, her lips pursing, trying very hard to keep her expression stoic, but she had never been very good at hiding her true emotions, Geralt thought, let alone to him, who knew her better than most. "If you aren't comfortable with that, I understand," she acknowledged after a moment, her voice quieter, sounding almost embarrassed to say it. "I won't pressure you. I was just hoping… maybe we could… keep each other company tonight. For a little while."

Geralt hesitated, making a face, feeling the edge of his nose wrinkle at the implication – but, seeing Triss' pleading expression, he quickly relented, unable to say no to her. "Just tonight," he told her, reaching back to run a hand across her row of pillows—they were much softer than his, though that should have been obvious, given that they belonged to a sorceress. He had never known a sorceress with an uncomfortable bed, though he could not help wondering if these pillows had been salvaged from the bed Yennefer destroyed, and, pulling back the soft cover, he nestled down into bed, letting his legs stretch out towards the bottom. Triss was quick to follow in next to him, settling in with her hair in a soft halo against the pillows, and she smiled as she turned to look over at him, grateful for his presence there beside her.

Geralt let out a low hum as Triss settled in, looking over at her lying on the pillow beside him, before he let out another soft sigh, reaching out to pull her in closer to his chest. Burying his face in her auburn hair, he took a deep breath of her glamour, sharp and sweet, feeling her tense against him, before finally relaxing again, allowing her small hands to rest shakily on his chest. Their relationship did not have to be so strange, he thought—she was his friend, and Yennefer's, and she had been there for both of them, even after it became undeniable that his affections would never leave Yennefer for her again. He still loved Triss the way he loved any friend, and he could not underestimate his gratitude for her help; she had put her whole life on hold for this, prioritizing Shani and her baby above her position in Redania's court, and he let out a soft huff at the thought of how little he had acknowledged her sacrifice up to now.

"Thanks for being here," he told her, quietly, his voice muffled against her hair. "For looking out for Shani."

"I love Shani," Triss returned, frankly. "And I love your child. I would never let anything happen to either of them."

Geralt grunted, resting his cheek against the top of her head. "Doesn't mean it's not a sacrifice," he acknowledged, gravely. "Know it is. But, you're still here. Don't take that for granted. Didn't want you to think I did."

Triss was silent for a moment, seeming thoughtful, before she finally let out a soft sigh, shifting in bed beside him. "I appreciate that," she said, her voice quiet. "It's hard sometimes… not knowing what's going to come next. But I think, no matter what happens, this will all be worth it in the end. When Shani has her baby."

Geralt frowned, letting out another soft hum, feeling as Triss moved her head to rest against his chest. "Hope that's true," he said, quietly, settling back against his pillows. "Sometimes… can't help wondering."

---

The sun rose early the next morning, peering in through the cracks in the fortress walls, and Geralt opened his eyes with a soft grunt as he felt its warmth seeping in under the heavy door of Triss' room. Stretching his free arm out with a groan, he shifted cautiously out from under the still-sleeping sorceress, careful not to wake her, before he slid his feet out of bed, giving a soft hiss as they touched the cold stone floor. He was still fully dressed in his day-clothes, minus only his boots that had left beside his own cot the night before, and he padded cautiously out of Triss' chambers, making his way to his own bed to grab up his shoes for the day ahead.

With the sunlight shining in through the crumbling walls, it was all the more obvious just how much work there was to be done on the fortress, and Geralt squinted up at a particularly conspicuous crack, wrinkling his nose and letting out a low grunt of disapproval. There was no way he and Eskel would be able to fix this whole place up, even if they worked for the rest of the year, and he thinned his lips at the prospect of spending the next two days breaking his back in futile effort. Still, he guessed it was better to have something to do than to be stuck in one place, unable to do much of anything, and he huffed as he pulled on his boots, making a note that he would have to visit Shani today, to ensure she had not gone mad from boredom yet.

Eskel was already in the kitchen by the time Geralt wandered in, looking for something that resembled breakfast, and he tossed his fellow witcher a hunk of cheese and half a loaf of bread, telling him to make his own sandwich, if he so chose. Geralt frowned at the meagre pickings, but wolfed it down anyway, glad to have something to eat, before he followed Eskel out of the kitchen again, making their way towards the wall they had started work on the day before. They had managed to make some progress on the wall, but it still felt like trying to plug a dam with letter wax, and Geralt let out a low grunt as he wiped his brow, taking a step back to gauge their progress for the day.

It had been several hours since they started, and he could not help feeling the wall seemed even emptier than it had earlier in the day, but he knew that was only his mind playing tricks, knowing how much more there still was before it felt complete. "Don't get tired on me now," Eskel joked, picking up another stone and laying it on the wall with the rest. "Got no reason not to be well-rested. Know you got a good night's sleep last night."

Geralt frowned, looking up at the comment. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, a bit on edge.

Eskel shrugged, picking up another stone. "Saw you coming out of Triss' room," he noted, matter-of-factly. "Figured you had some reason for being there. Soft bed is the first thing to come to mind."

Geralt faltered, before looking up at Eskel again, meeting his eyes across the pile of stones; he could see the wary look in his fellow witcher's eyes, waiting for some explanation apart from the obvious. "Heard her crying last night," Geralt admitted after a while, speaking quietly, not wanting Triss to hear him talking about it – he had no idea where she was in the fortress at the moment, but he did not want to risk her listening in, regardless. "Went to see what was wrong. Got some insight. Not easy for her, doing this for Shani." He paused, wiping dust from his hands onto his pants, before he passed a hand across his brow, smearing dust there as well.

"Guess I can understand how it feels," he admitted, looking down to the pail of mortar between them. "Wanting something for so long, knowing you'll never have it. Then the opportunity arises, but it's just… too much. Too far."

Eskel frowned, having not expected that answer, dipping his tool into the mortar and laying it down to start a new line of stones. "Didn't even think about it that way," he admitted after a while, setting his tool aside to pick up another heavy stone. "Guess it would be hard on Triss. Be hard on anyone. Guess I understand now why Yen had to leave."

"Yen didn't leave out of jealousy," Geralt answered, feeling his hackles rise a bit at the comment. "Left to make your group less conspicuous. Only so many things to do around here. Felt her time was better spent somewhere else."

"Oh yeah?" Eskel asked, setting his stone down with a grunt. "Doing what, exactly? She tell you?"

Geralt hesitated, furrowing his brow, before shoving his own tool in the mortar as well, digging out a dollop. "Doesn't have to tell me," he said, laying down the mortar on the stonework, continuing Eskel's work. "Trust her. Even without me being there. That's what marriage is. Trust without question."

"That's what your marriage is," Eskel corrected, picking up another stone to set it down where Geralt had laid the mortar. "Not every marriage. But then, you two have always gotten off on keeping secrets from one another."

Geralt grunted, stabbing out another toolful of mortar. "And how's your marriage going, Eskel?" he asked, pointedly.

Eskel froze, taken aback, before he turned his attention to the stones again, wiping his brow. "Think that's enough for today," he commented, changing the subject, clearly in no mood to argue further. "Could use a few drinks after a day like this. Think we've still got some vodka in the kitchen from the old days."

Geralt hummed, shoving his tool back into the bucket of mortar with a frown. "Vodka sounds good," he agreed, still a bit agitated. "Could use a break. Gotta be other things to do around here but work."

Eskel shrugged, cleaning dust from his hands. "Dunno," he admitted. "Working's been most of what I've been doing since we got here. Trying to spruce up the place. Figure it deserves a little care, after all these years."

Geralt huffed, resting his hands on his hips. "Surprised to hear you say that," he noted, dourly. "Thought you hated this place. Only so much sprucing up to be done anyway. Place is a tomb with crumbling walls."

"Still, doesn't hurt to try," Eskel acknowledged, unfazed, seeming to ignore the first part of his statement. "'Long as Shani's here, should at least make an effort. Couldn't hurt to liven it up a bit."

Geralt grunted, seeing his point, though he found it a bit hard to imagine their efforts might yield any such results; between the two of them, they had barely managed to patch one wall in the two days since his arrival. He had come to Kaer Morhen expecting some downtime with old friends, but thus far, he had only been put to work for his trouble, and he made a face, wondering whether Yennefer had known this might happen when she sent him here. "Could always get blackout drunk and call the Lodge again," he suggested, his face splitting in a wry grin at the thought; in truth, he had been wanting to suggest it ever since Eskel had first brought up their last night drinking together. He had not had an opportunity to cut loose like that since his last night out with Dandelion, which had ended in disaster, and he could not help thinking it would be nice to have a drink with a friend on a positive note, for a change.

Eskel hummed, screwing up his face, wrinkling his nose at the suggestion. "Prefer not to do that again," he admitted after a moment, letting out a breath. "Trying to cut down on things. Y'know."

Geralt gave a gruff chuckle, folding his arms. "Trying to impress Shani," he guessed, trying not to sound too disappointed. "Wouldn't be the first time she's seen a witcher drunk off his ass. Won't be the last, if patterns hold."

Eskel hesitated again, tilting his head, before he finally looked up, shaking it determinedly. "Sure that's true," he admitted. "But, don't wanna risk it, even so. Like her too much to let her see me like that."

Geralt nodded, deciding not to press it. "Makes sense," he acknowledged. "Guess we can just… have a couple drinks, like the old days. Talk a bit. Couldn't hurt."

Eskel huffed, turning away from the half-constructed wall, starting to make his way towards the kitchen instead. "Not sure there's much to talk about," he admitted, pushing open the heavy door and holding it to let Geralt follow. "After a hundred years, feels like we've kinda talked ourselves out. I'm not that interesting, Wolf."

Geralt shrugged, following Eskel into the kitchen. "Seem plenty interesting to me," he said, hanging back to let his fellow witcher retrieve the bottles from a high shelf. "Besides, never know what might shake out. Didn't find out some things about Lambert until a few months ago."

Eskel chuckled, clutching the bottles to his chest, handing a few over to Geralt to let him share the load. "Lambert's pricklier than a porcupine's ass," he noted, good-naturedly. "Not surprised he's been keeping secrets." Grabbing another bottle from the high shelf, he turned again, looking around the kitchen for their mugs, before he finally spotted them, inclining his head to indicate for Geralt to grab two for them to use. Geralt did as he was told, tucking the mugs into the crook of his free elbow, before he headed back for the door, pushing it open to let Eskel through and following him back towards the long feasting-table.

Sitting down at the table, Eskel stretched his legs, letting out a groan as he released the tension of the day, before he looked up to watch as Geralt slid a mug across to him, starting to open the first of the evening's bottles. "Speaking of Lambert," Eskel said, watching as Geralt poured them both a healthy dose of vodka. "He ever tell you he used to be involved with a Cat School witcher? Aiden—something. Aiden of Brugge, I think."

Geralt faltered, taken aback to hear Eskel speak so glibly about something he had thought to be a great secret. "Only found out about that recently," he admitted, sitting down. "How'd you know about it? Lambert tell you?"

Eskel nodded, taking a draft of vodka. "Lambert talks when he drinks," he said, setting down his mug again. "And he drinks… more than most. Worry about him sometimes. Know we've got increased metabolism, but that's still not healthy." He paused, staring down at his flagon for a while, as if wondering whether he should be drinking, either, before he finally took a deep breath, seeming to decide one night of indulging would not kill him. "Not surprised he never talked about it," he admitted after a moment, looking up again to meet Geralt's eyes. "Surprised me to learn about it, truth be told. Vesemir would've tanned his hide if he'd known."

Geralt frowned, tapping his thumb against his mug. "Never known Vesemir to be intolerant like that," he admitted.

Eskel huffed, shaking his head. "Wasn't about that," he said. "Vesemir was more tolerant than most. Was about the fact that he was Cat School. They're the bane of our profession, how they operate. Would've been a bad look, having one of our own associated with them."

Geralt grunted, still not buying it. "Coën was a Griffin," he said, taking a swig of vodka. "Wouldn't be the first time the Wolf School associated with others than our own."

"Coën was a good man," Eskel answered, unfazed.

Geralt hummed. "Aiden was a good man," he countered. "According to Lambert."

Eskel shrugged, picking up his mug again. "Never met Aiden," he admitted. "Couldn't tell you. But honestly, would've been glad just to see Lambert happy. Think he's happy now, with Keira. Makes me feel a bit better."

Geralt frowned. "Thought you didn't like Keira," he observed.

Eskel hesitated, swirling his vodka as he thought. "Never said that," he admitted after a moment. "Not a fan of sorceresses in general, after how Sabrina treated Deidre. Just said I didn't figure either of them for the settling-down type. That's not an insult, just… an observation." He paused, staring down into his mug, before he took a long drink, draining it down to the bottom. Then, setting the mug aside, he reached for the bottle, filling it back to the top again. "More than happy to see them both settled down," he added after a moment, setting the bottle back down. "Lambert especially. And Keira's no pushover, either. She gives as good as she gets. Lambert needs someone like that."

"Don't think it's an ill-matched pair?" Geralt asked, making a face as he thought back to Keira's time in Velen; she had complained to him bitterly then that she wished she could trade her hut for a fancy house in the city, but she had ended up once again settling into a small community with Lambert, the last place he might have guessed for her. She had seemed content there during his visit, apart from her obvious vitriol towards him for interrupting their peace, but he could not help wondering if she was truly happy, despite her claims of having everything she wanted. "Keira likes the finer things—high society," he added. "Lambert likes… being left alone."

Eskel huffed, the sound almost a stiff chuckle. "Lambert likes Keira," he corrected, not interested in hearing otherwise. "And Keira likes Lambert. And if being together makes them happy, then I'm happy for them. Don't really have any other opinions on the matter." He paused, taking another drink of vodka, wetting his lips as he sat his mug down again. "Besides," he added, looking up. "Lambert deserves some peace in this world, after what he's been through. He ever tell you about his dad?"

"Yep," Geralt answered, grimly, finishing off his vodka at the unpleasant memory.

Eskel let out a long sigh at the thought, turning his gaze down to rest on his mug again. "Brutal," he said. "Can't imagine treating a kid like that. He was lucky to get out when he did."

"Didn't seem very lucky," Geralt countered, reaching for the bottle to refill his mug. "Hated being a witcher, too."

Eskel hesitated, before finally shrugging. "Out of that now, too," he said after a moment, unperturbed. "Doesn't have to worry about it anymore. Thought about leaving the Path, myself, a time or two… wonder how it'll treat him. Have to ask him sometime."

Geralt frowned, unsure what to say. "What about your mom?" he asked after a moment, curious.

Eskel looked up, surprised by the question. "What about her?" he asked, confused. "She's long dead. Couldn't go back to her, even if I did leave the Path."

"Not what I meant," Geralt answered, curling his hands thoughtfully around his mug. "Talking about Lambert's dad reminded me. Know you said you remembered her. Was wondering if you remembered anything in particular."

Eskel hesitated again, before he finally let out a long breath, resting his arm on the table in front of him. "Only that song I told you about," he admitted. "Kinda remember her face… not clearly, though. Not enough to describe it."

Geralt hummed. "Right…" he agreed, speaking slowly. "That song."

Eskel looked up again, raising a wary brow. "What about it?"

"Called it a hill-folk tune," Geralt answered, deciding to be direct. "Never really asked, but… are you…?"

Eskel grunted, realizing where he was going. "Asking for my tragic backstory?" he asked, dryly.

Geralt shrugged. "Kinda, yeah," he admitted. "Don't know much about you. Just that you can't sing worth a damn."

Eskel chuckled, taking another swig of vodka, brushing past the insult as he considered how much to tell. "I'm a witcher," he finally said, setting down his mug again. "Simple Kaer Morhen folk. Like you."

Geralt faltered, making a sour face. "Not what I meant," he retorted. "You know that."

Eskel shrugged, letting out another bleak huff. "I know," he answered. "But it's a stupid question. Came here same time as you. Whatever I was born as is irrelevant now."

"Know I came from Maribor," Geralt said, pulling his mug in closer. "More than nothing."

"And I came from Vicovaro," Eskel returned, looking up again, bluntly. "Never would'a guessed that, would you?"

Geralt hesitated, taken aback. "No," he finally admitted. "Would've guessed somewhere in the Kestrel Mountains."

"You'd be wrong then," Eskel returned, staring across at him, pointedly. "Shouldn't assume things about people. Just makes you look like an ass when you're wrong." Looking down to his arm on the table again, he paused, tracing the raking scars that wrapped around it, before he took another deep breath in, running his tongue absentmindedly along his scarred lower lip. "My mom was from Vespaden, in the Black Hills," he said after a moment, tilting his head pensively as he spoke, as if trying to remember. "In the Far North. Looked into it a bit after we left Kaer Morhen for the last time… after Vesemir. Got… curious, I guess. Wanted to figure out where I came from. Connect with… something, since I had nothing left here."

"Black Hills and Vicovaro are a long way apart," Geralt noted, frowning at the inconsistent story.

Eskel huffed. "Don't think I know that?" he insisted, looking up again. "Didn't say I was finished. Gonna listen?" He paused, waiting for an answer, but Geralt only sat back, allowing him space to continue, and Eskel grunted, picking up his mug to take another swig, before finally wetting his lips to go on. "Dad was from Vicovaro," he continued after a beat. "An artist. Wooed my mom when she came down from Vespaden to trade. Lured her to Vicovaro with the promise of a life together, then up and disappeared as soon as he got her pregnant." He fell silent at the thought, his scarred brow creasing, his lips thinning to a grim line as he considered, and Geralt noticed his hand twitch slightly on his mug, as if resisting the urge to grip it until it cracked.

"Mom remembered some of the old songs from her childhood," Eskel continued after a moment, not even seeming to acknowledge his frustration. "But… that's pretty much all she kept from her old life. We lived like Vicovarans for a couple years, up until she couldn't afford to care for me anymore. Living in Vicovaro's expensive, and she didn't have the money to leave. So… she did what she thought was best. Gave her son to a passing witcher, hoping he'd have a better life that way. Don't even remember the language now."

"Beautiful language," Geralt commented, unsure what else there was to say about it.

Eskel snorted, shrugging one shoulder. "Bella," he agreed, taking another bitter drink. Then, pausing, he licked his lips, before letting out a soft huff. "Huh," he said. "Guess I know that much."

Geralt hummed, not sure how to respond, but feeling he should say something to acknowledge Eskel's story. "Ever find out what happened to your mom after you left?" he asked, hoping his question would not hit a nerve.

"She died," Eskel answered, bluntly, not missing a beat. "After several years. But before that, she married a good man, had a bunch more kids. Then those kids had kids, and so on… got a lot of great-great-grandnieces and nephews. Some little great-great-great-grands as well." He paused, thoughtful for a moment, his golden eyes distant as he stared at a spot over Geralt's shoulder, before he finally took a deep breath in, his pensive brow furrowing as his lips narrowed to a meditative line. "Beautiful kids," he said after a while, shaking his head. "Don't look a thing like me… lucky for them. Managed to find a few of 'em during my visit – wouldn't dare try to interfere with their lives, of course, but… nice knowing I've got something out there, at least."

Geralt nodded, quiet for a moment, wondering why it felt so strange to think that Eskel had family out in the world; it was not unusual for witchers to have human kin, he knew, as most started out as humans, themselves, before the Trials. Even so, it felt odd, almost morbid, to think about the life they left behind continuing on without them—about time flowing normally for their loved ones, when it felt both so endless and arrested as a witcher. The world changed, but they did not, and Geralt could not help but feel a slight chill at the realization; perhaps that was one reason he could never quite settle down before, he thought, knowing how temporary everything was. It was a bleak and bizarre thing to think about, the idea that everything around him was destined to disappear eventually, but he quickly shook the unsettling thought from his mind, not wanting to dwell on his own mortality.

"That why you've been so up my ass about Shani?" he finally asked, the gruff phrasing leaving him before he could stop it. It was not an unfounded question, nor one Eskel could deny was true, in its own way, but the way it had been asked still made him flinch a little, wishing he had a better, softer grasp of reactionary language.

Eskel paused, seeming to think for a moment, before he finally looked up again, his golden eyes sceptical. "Need a reason for that?" he asked, bluntly. "Just think her baby deserves a decent father. That's all."

"Doesn't sound like all," Geralt answered, not letting it go. "Sounds like you discovered where your problems with Deidre stemmed from. Like you're trying to make up for it now. Not repeat your dad's mistakes. Projecting all that on me."

"And what if I am?" Eskel insisted, no longer trying to hide his frustration. "Maybe things would've been different if my dad'd stuck around. If I'd stuck around, for Deidre. Maybe I never would've been made a witcher, and maybe… maybe she never would've snapped the way she did." He paused, narrowing his lips, his dark brow creasing to shadow his sunken eyes, the flames from the fireplace dancing in the grooves of his scars, making him look as intense as Geralt had ever seen him. "I don't mind being a witcher," he added after a moment, his voice softer now, realizing he was getting upset. "But what happened to Deidre… it was all my fault. And after I found out about my dad, that's when I started heading north. Wanted to at least try to make things right. Try to… fix things. If there was anything left to fix."

Frowning again, Eskel fell silent, looking down to his hand wrapped around his mug, and Geralt could see his teeth pinching his scarred lip, keeping his jaw steady, not wanting to let his emotions show. "It was a stupid thought," Eskel admitted after a moment, his voice quieter now, almost too low for Geralt to hear. "Too late to change things with Deidre, even if I wanted to. But can't blame me for still feeling guilty about it. Just… want to do what I can to make up for it now. In whatever cosmic sense. My dad abandoned my mom when she needed him most, and I… didn't want that happening to Shani."

Geralt paused, considering the thought, realizing that he could not find it in himself to be upset with Eskel; though the accusations of abandoning Shani still frustrated him, he could see how the idea might upset Eskel more. He hummed again, pulling his mug in closer, not sure what there was to say after such an admission. "Knew a Vicovaran once," he finally said, clumsily.

Eskel looked up at this, his expression doubtful. "Congrats," he said, taking a swig of vodka.

Geralt grunted, furrowing his brow at the stark answer. "That's n—let me finish," he said, annoyed. "He was a… friend, I guess. Died helping me save Ciri from Bonhart. Didn't get to know him until it was too late."

Eskel was silent for a while, staring down into his flagon. "Sorry to hear that," he finally said, more sincere now.

Geralt shrugged, picking up his own mug. "Was a long time ago," he answered, quietly. "Barely remember him now."

Eskel paused, before he finally frowned, looking up across the table at Geralt again. "Doesn't make it any easier," he answered, sternly, causing Geralt to look up in surprise, having not expected that tone from him. "Just because you're a witcher doesn't mean things don't affect you. You've got a heart, and feelings, just like everyone else. Pretending you don't doesn't make it true. I know you better than that. So do you."

Geralt faltered, surprised to be scolded by his fellow witcher, before he finally cleared his throat, reaching for the bottle again. "So, explain something," he said after a while, topping off his mug and taking another drink, deciding to move the topic along. "You say you're attracted to Shani, think she's beautiful, but… don't wanna sleep with her. How's that work?"

Eskel hesitated, sucking the divot on his lower lip where the scar had cut through it, before he reached for the bottle again as well. "Sounds bad when you put it that way," he admitted, his voice low, letting out a tired breath. "Wouldn't say I don't wanna sleep with her, just… not my priority. Won't be disappointed if it doesn't happen. She's a beautiful woman, and… I can't say I'm not curious what it'd be like. Having sex with her while she's…" He paused, sucking the inside of his cheek, before he finally made an awkward gesture out from his stomach. "Y'know," he said, glancing up at Geralt again. "Not really an opportunity that presents itself a lot. 'Specially in our line of work. But… I'm more interested in getting to know her. Hearing about her feelings. Not really fixated on the sexual aspect."

Geralt narrowed his eyes at the explanation, finding it hard to think of an argument against it. "Guess it's nice you wanna get to know her," he said after a moment. "Shani deserves that. Got lots of interesting things to talk about."

"More than you know," Eskel agreed, picking up his mug with a knowing chuckle. "Likes to problem-solve when she can't sleep. Talks about things that don't line up, conspiracy theories she's heard that might explain them. Can't hardly follow half the things she talks about, but… love the passion she has when talking about them." He smirked, taking a drink, before setting down his mug again with a long exhale, staring down at it for a long while, as if hoping to find more thoughts etched into the side of it. A long silence fell over the table at this, with neither witcher knowing quite what to say, only finishing off their current drinks and opening another bottle to top them both off again.

Geralt stared into the fire as he thought, feeling the warmth of the vodka pooling in his stomach, unable to help wondering, as he sat, whether he had ever heard Shani talk about the things Eskel was describing. He had always known she was brilliant, had always admired her scholastic achievements, her clever mind, but he could never remember a time when he had just sat back and listened to her talk about her interests. Perhaps that was why he and Yennefer worked so well, he thought; she never had to wait for him to invite her to speak her mind, nor did she have to wait for him to speak his to know what he was thinking in return. Communication had never been his strong suit, and his relationship with Yennefer had relieved him of that burden – but still, he could not help wondering if perhaps Eskel had discovered some secret to better communication, or if simply being a good listener was enough to get Shani to open up to him.

Looking across the table at the thought, Geralt took his brother in for a moment, observing his damaged face, unable to help wondering what fifty years of disfigurement would do to an otherwise capable man's psyche. Eskel did not resent his scars, it seemed, nor pity himself for their presence, but he had mentioned them offhandedly too many times for Geralt to believe he had grown fully accustomed to them. He had mentioned only the day before how he thought Shani might be put off by them, might think them ugly, and he had specifically mentioned children disliking them, recalling a memory Geralt would not soon forget—a memory of Ciri, barely a teen, screaming in terror when she had first seen Eskel coming out of the darkness towards her; a memory which had been burned into Eskel's recall, it seemed, despite years of growing closer to Geralt's child surprise.

The silence between them lasted another round, and then another, until a third bottle had to be opened to continue their evening, and Geralt took a long breath as he set his mug down again, feeling his cheeks growing warm with vodka. It felt strange to be here without Lambert, without Vesemir – even without Coën, though it had been years since his death – and he turned his gaze thoughtfully back to Eskel, watching him, wondering if his fellow Wolf felt the same. It was hard to tell what Eskel was thinking; his expression had grown solemn in the silence, almost grave, and he narrowed his lips as he stared into the fire, watching it pop and hiss as the flames danced. He looked tired and wan in the firelight, Geralt thought, older than he remembered him looking barely a year before, and he watched as Eskel took a deep breath, seeming to be debating whether or not to speak his mind.

"Guess I just… don't feel that drive very much," Eskel admitted after a moment, his earnest tone taking Geralt by surprise. "Y'know. That… increased libido you talk about. Saying all witchers have it, like it's—something the Trials give us. Used to think… maybe there was something wrong with me, that I didn't feel it. Something broken, something I could fix. But… think it's just the way I'm built. Like Lambert and his dad, think it's just… something I was born with." He paused again, turning his gaze down to stare into his mug for another long while, his hands curling anxiously around the edges as he took another breath, sucking his lip as he searched for the words to continue.

"Used to think maybe… I could force myself to get around it," he went on after a moment, his voice quieter, seeming hesitant to go on. "Trick myself into doing it, so maybe I'd learn to like it better—like vegetables, y'know?" He paused, blinking a moment, before the edge of his nose wrinkled slightly, and he gave a short chuckle, surprised by his own analogy. "You remember how Vesemir used to tell us as kids – you just gotta eat it 'til you like it?" he asked, looking up at Geralt again. "Doesn't work the same way with other things. Know that now, but… well. Back then, I was desperate. So when I ended up taking a contract that led me to a succubus, and she offered me some fisstech to stay… figured it was worth a shot."

"Took the fisstech so you wouldn't feel it?" Geralt asked, feeling his hand clench tighter around his mug.

Eskel hesitated again, thinking back on it, tilting his head from side to side. "Not exactly," he finally admitted, moving his hand to sit atop his own mug, thoughtful. "Fisstech doesn't knock you out. Just… loosens you up. Lowers your inhibitions. Took it so I'd be more open to trying things, less… anxious. Less… wary of what I was about to do, I guess. Then…" He stopped, narrowing his lips, before he finally took a deep, bracing breath, readying to go on. "I fucked her," he admitted, the words sounding strange and forced, even as they left his mouth. "Can't say I didn't like it… can't say I liked it, either. Don't really remember much about it. I was there, she was there… I came, she came… we parted ways… and that was the end of it."

Geralt grunted. "Romantic," he said, taking an uncomfortable swig of vodka.

Eskel shrugged. "Wasn't meant to be," he admitted, picking up his own mug for a much-needed drink. "Didn't fix anything, either, like I hoped it would. Guess that's when I realized it wasn't a problem I could fix." He paused again, staring down into his mug, before he let out a soft sigh, sounding incredibly tired. "Just… something that's a part of me, I guess," he added, quieter. "Like everything else I can't fix."

Another uncomfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the crackling of the hall fireplace, until Geralt finally cleared his throat, causing Eskel to look up at him again, unsure what to expect. "Not missing out on much," Geralt lied, trying to keep his expression impassive. "Sometimes, feels like all Yen and I ever do is fuck. Not much room for conversation… bonding over other activities."

Eskel blinked, before he finally furrowed his brow, wrinkling the edge of his nose as his mouth twisted. Then, after a while, he let out another sigh, leaning back again and slapping the table. "Nothing to be done about it, even if there was," he admitted, a bit too offhanded to believe. "But you didn't come all this way just to hear my woes. Gotta be something else we can talk about. Something lighter."

Geralt hesitated, trying to think if there was anything else he could bring up to quell the uncomfortable mood; the talk about the succubus had all but ground the conversation to a halt, making him self-conscious to try anything else. "Things… haven't been great at home," he finally said, deciding it was only fair he should share some tough truths as well. "Feels like every time I get somewhere with Yen, something causes us to fight again. Fall apart. Like… some invisible force, some constant… background noise. Don't really know how to explain it."

He paused, making a face, wrinkling his nose and slivering his mouth as he thought. "Dunno if you've felt it," he finally said, realizing his lack of prose would do him no favours today. "But… something in the air's been different lately. Making things… tense. More tense than normal."

Eskel thought for a moment, his head bobbing faintly like a fishing-lure as he decided his answer. "Think I know what you're talking about, actually," he finally said, looking up at Geralt with sombre eyes. "Been feeling some shift in the air lately, too. Thought it was just me. Didn't think there was anything to it."

Geralt nodded. "Yen's mentioned feeling it, too," he said, relieved he did not have to explain himself further. "Shani, too. And Triss, and the rest of the Lodge. Triss said it was something to do with the Spheres shifting. Said the fabric was growing thinner. Might lead to another Conjunction."

Eskel faltered, seeming surprised, before he finally frowned, looking across with a dubious expression. "Don't gotta bullshit me, Wolf," he said, his voice stiff, sounding almost insulted. "Don't gotta make up wild stories. Know things're different since the fight with the Hunt. All there is to it." He huffed, picking up his mug for another swig, taking his time to finish drinking to the bottom, before he set his flagon down again, wiping his mouth with the back of his gloved hand. "Pour me another," he said, jerking his head at the bottle between them. "Don't gotta talk about your problems at home. Don't gotta talk about anything. Maybe we just sit in silence for a while."

Geralt hummed, reaching for the bottle to pour his fellow witcher another round, before he finished off his own mug, using the same bottle to fill his flagon to the top again. Then, setting the bottle aside, he drew his mug in closer, staring down into its depths, before he looked up at Eskel again, setting his expression and taking another deep breath to speak. "Yen worries about my drinking," he confessed, causing Eskel to falter, surprised to hear it. "Think she just wants something to worry about. Know she overthinks things. Can't be easy." He paused, swirling his vodka, before he took a long swig, letting the cold taste wash over his tongue, thinking back to his last conversation with Yennefer, right before he had left Corvo Bianco for Kaer Morhen.

He had told her everything he knew about the gates, the strange girl, and the clues they had found so far, but he had no idea what she had drawn from them that he had not been able to over the last several months. Perhaps there was something only she was aware of – something he had no way of knowing, and would remain in the dark on, until she came back – but the thought of having something that important kept from him made him more anxious than he cared to admit. It was hard enough to defend her actions from Triss, and harder still to defend them from Eskel, especially when he could feel his own confidence in her mission starting to wane the longer the xenovox stayed silent at his hip. It was all he could do to keep from worrying, all he could do to keep his uncertainty from eating him alive, and if it took a few drinks to keep the worst of his worries at bay, it seemed unfair she should fault him that.

Eskel grunted, his interest piqued. "Drink alone?" he asked, raising a wary brow.

Geralt shrugged, his hand curling around his mug. "Sometimes," he admitted. "When there's no one else around."

"Drink to take your mind off things?" Eskel asked, persistently. "Forget bad memories?"

Geralt paused, thinking it over, before he finally nodded. "Sometimes, yeah," he agreed. "If something's really bothering me. Helps take the edge off."

Eskel nodded again, his eyes narrowing. "Hide your drinking from Yennefer?" he asked, his expression firm.

Geralt frowned, noting the shift in tone, not sure what he had done to deserve such scrutiny. "Not sure what you're getting at," he admitted, feeling his hackles start to rise, despite himself. "Looking for problems where there aren't any. Feels a little like you're comparing me to Lambert."

Eskel shrugged, reaching for his own mug. "Never mentioned Lambert," he noted, taking a swig. "Interesting he's the first person to come to mind when I ask, though." He fell silent, letting the comment hang, setting down his mug in front of him again, before he rested his fingers pensively on the lip, staring down into it, seeming to consider something for a moment. "How is Lambert, anyway?" he finally asked, looking up again, his tone still not as friendly as before. "I know you went to visit him. Haven't heard from him since I joined up with Triss and the group. Hope he's still doing okay."

"He's… fine," Geralt answered, unsure how much of Lambert and Keira's life was up to him to divulge. "He and Keira settled down. Town's kind of adopted them. Keira had some kind of stomach bug last I saw them. Didn't get to talk to her much."

Eskel hesitated, before his expression began to change, his lips thinning in a troubled line. "Never known a sorceress to get sick for long," he admitted. "Got remedies against that kind of thing. Even Triss carries amulets, in case of emergency. Know some potions give her… intestinal distress." He paused again, his mouth twitching slightly, before he finally gave a soft sniff, dismissing the topic. "Did she say what her symptoms were?" he asked, looking up again, his scarred brow furrowing at the question.

Geralt thought for a moment, before he finally shrugged. "Nausea," he said, picking up his mug for another swig. He could not help feeling a bit self-conscious as he took his drink, hearing Eskel's pointed questions in the back of his mind, and he set it down again with a hum, staring into its depths, wondering if it was even worth finishing. "Lambert said she'd been sick for a while," he added, trying not to focus on his worries, wanting to enjoy his evening. "Told her to go lie down. Could hear her throwing up from the other room."

Eskel nodded, taking another pensive drink. "Guess it's possible she was just under the weather," he mumbled after a while, still not sounding convinced. "Still, seems strange she hadn't managed to treat it. Lots of things to combat nausea. Ginger. Potions. Spells."

"Eel and almonds," Geralt added dryly, remembering Regis teasing him about the same thing.

Eskel made a face at the suggestion, his scarred cheek twitching as his broad nose wrinkled in disgust. "If you're into that kind of thing, I guess," he finally answered, deciding to let it go. Taking a deep breath, he turned his gaze down to his hand on the table again, watching it for a moment, before his expression began to slowly change, this time into something more solemn, almost severe. Sucking his scarred lip, he tapped his fingers anxiously on the table, before reaching for his mug again, intending to take a drink, only to stop halfway, his hand hovering, unsure what to do with himself to address his new thought. Geralt frowned, watching him waver, wondering what could be on his mind that was troubling him so much, until Eskel finally looked up at him again, his expression hard to read, somewhere between curiosity and dread.

"So… you do your last task yet?" Eskel asked, trying to sound impassive, though Geralt could hear the tension in his voice.

Geralt shook his head, having wondered when this might come up. "No," he answered, honestly. "Haven't had the time."

Eskel hesitated, before frowning darkly, disapproving. "No?" he insisted. "What the hell's the holdup?"

"O'Dimm gave me an impossible task," Geralt explained, picking up his mug again and frowning in return. "Then… another one to make up for it. Knows exactly what he's doing. How to keep me under his thumb."

Eskel scoffed, sitting up straighter, dropping both open hands on the table in exasperation. "Well that's not acceptable," he said, sharply. "Shani's got barely seven weeks until the baby's due—"

"Think I don't know that?" Geralt snapped, looking up again, tired of being scolded.

"Then what?" Eskel shot back, refusing to let up. "What could possibly be so unthinkable? What could O'Dimm possibly ask you to do that you're running away from it again instead of facing it head-on?"

Geralt gritted his teeth, taking a settling breath, trying to calm his nerves before answering; he had not wanted to fight with Eskel tonight, but it seemed Eskel was not of the same mind. "Can't keep accusing me of running away," he finally said, his voice low, almost a growl. "Wouldn't know what to do in my situation, either."

"Then what is it?" Eskel insisted, leaning forward on both elbows to listen.

Geralt hesitated, taking another deep breath, feeling a muscle flicker in his clenched jaw as he settled, before he reached across the table for the bottle again, filling his mug to the brim for a bracing swig. "O'Dimm wants me to kill Shani or the baby," he explained, setting down his mug again with a dark exhale. "Gotta pick one."

Eskel faltered, seeming stunned for a moment, unsure how to respond to such an answer, before he finally wet his scarred lips, buying time to think before responding. "Well… you can't do that," he finally said, sounding just as resolute as Yennefer, and just as unhelpful. "He can't actually make you do that. Can he? Gotta be another way."

Geralt huffed darkly, picking up his mug again. "Think I haven't thought about that already?" he asked, frustrated.

"Well, what do you intend to do?" Eskel insisted, growing more agitated. "Can't let him kill Shani. Or her baby. There's just no way."

Geralt shook his head, swallowing his vodka. "Might not be a choice," he admitted. "If it ends up being cursed, or some kind of monster—"

"Fuck your monster theory!" Eskel snapped back, sharply. "Don't wanna hear it! There's gotta be some other way. Some way to save them both, no matter what the baby is. Cursed or not, doesn't matter."

Geralt frowned, taken aback by his harsh tone, having never heard this level of conviction from Eskel before – but then, he had never known him to feel so strongly about anything, or had never paid attention, if he had. "Got no idea," he finally admitted, honestly, setting down his flagon again. "Tried to challenge him for her soul last time, but… told me I'd already spent my chance at a challenge. Couldn't go again."

Eskel paused, his golden eyes moving slowly back down to the table, tracing a knot in the wood, before he finally took a deep breath, seeming to take forever to fill his lungs. "…Well, I haven't," he said, his voice quiet, still staring at the table. "I could do it. I could challenge for her soul, if you tell me how. Be happy to do it… for her."

Geralt hesitated, before making a face, realizing he should have known the offer was coming; it was just like Eskel to put others before him, to pick up where Geralt had failed, and carry it through to the end. He had always been noble like that, quiet and self-sacrificing to the point of detriment, but there were some things even Geralt could not allow, not even in the name of brotherly altruism. "Can't ask you to do that," he said, shaking his head. "The challenge… it could kill you. Can't ask for that."

"You don't have to ask," Eskel answered, his voice growing stronger now, more assured. Looking up at Geralt again, he stared at him, his golden eyes solemn in his amiable face, his expression reminding Geralt strongly of Ciri's when she had announced she would be going through the portal to fight the White Frost. There was a determination in his face, Geralt saw—a decisiveness, a look that made the hair on Geralt's arms prickle in its finality—and one he could not find the words to argue against, not when his brother's mind was so clearly made up.

"What else am I doing with my life?" Eskel insisted, breaking the silence after a moment, taking Geralt by surprise. "Honestly. Look me in the eye and tell me one thing I've done that anybody remembers me for. I've got no home, no family. No wife or lover who'd miss me. All I've got's you, Lambert, Scorpion, and Shani. Least I can do is give her kid a chance."

"What about Li'l Bleater?" Geralt asked, trying his best to lighten the dreary mood.

Eskel made a sour face, not finding it funny. "Don't patronize me, Geralt," he said. "The goat's a pet. Nothing compared to a baby."

Geralt nodded, realizing he had missed the mark. "Know at least one little girl who remembers you," he said after a while, raising a thoughtful brow. "One you saved from that basilisk. Just 'cause there's no songs about it doesn't mean it's not important." He paused, thinking a moment, before his second brow moved up to meet the first. "Know Dandelion'd love to write some ballads about you, if you'd let him," he added, causing Eskel to look up again, his brow furrowing. "Already got some titles picked out—Brother Wolf. Manticore Slayer. The Huntsman of Maribor."

Eskel snorted, picking up his vodka. "No thanks," he said, taking another swig and wiping his mouth. "I'm just a simple witcher, Wolf. Don't need any titles. Don't want 'em. Like my life peaceful, as it is."

Geralt nodded, having expected that, before he sat back again, staring at Eskel across the table. "Know Shani'd miss you," he said after a moment, his tone more sincere this time.

Eskel paused, seeming struck for a moment, before he finally let out a soft, regretful breath. "Yeah, well… I'd miss her, too," he admitted, quietly. "However much I can miss someone from beyond the grave. She's a good person, Geralt… doesn't deserve whatever evil bullshit you've got her caught up in. And if it's up to me to fix your mistakes so she can live…" He paused again, trailing off, his cat-like gaze falling to the mugs between them for another long while, before he finally picked up his mug for a swig, draining it to the bottom and setting it down with a sigh. "Gotta say," he admitted, softly. "There are worse things worth dying for. Lots worse things."

Geralt hesitated, unsure what to say, finding it hard to hear Eskel speak so plainly about his own death; continuing on with such morbid, hopeless melancholia, as if he had already accepted it as fact. Death was nothing new to the two of them, as witchers, but it still felt uncomfortable to hear it spoken about so inevitably, and Geralt could not help wondering if their respective feelings on death might have changed since losing Vesemir.

Geralt had always accepted death as a part of life, knowing it would come for him one day as well—and it had, though Ciri's quick thinking had prevented it from taking him and Yennefer permanently. Eskel, on the other hand, had always been an optimist, believing death to be the end of a journey, something that should be avoided until the time was just right, when life had been lived to a satisfactory conclusion. Now, it seemed the opposite was true—Geralt clawing tooth and nail to cling to life, now that he saw how good it could be, while Eskel seemed more determined than ever to use his life to benefit anyone but himself.

"Got one more lead to investigate before I confront O'Dimm," Geralt said, speaking a bit louder, hoping to get Eskel's attention. "Gonna try and stop this at the source. If it's just another dead end… let you know. Give you a chance to challenge him."

Eskel nodded, still seeming distant. "Good," he agreed, quietly. "That's all I wanted." Then, looking down to his mug again, he narrowed his lips, falling into a melancholy silence.

A long quiet fell over the table, with neither witcher knowing what to say, lost in thoughts of their cruel dilemma—a no-win scenario with the sole, malicious intent of hurting everyone in came in contact with. The requests from O'Dimm had started out so simply, so modestly, but that was how these things always went, Geralt knew – luring victims in with a false sense of security, like a fly into a spider's web. Letting out a long breath at the thought, he looked down, unable to help thinking how foolish he had to have been to allow himself to become trapped again; he had been caught off-guard, unthinking, desperate to agree to anything he thought might protect his growing family. But, despite his good intentions, his actions had only managed to harm even more people in the process, and now it seemed his poor decisions might ultimately claim the life of one of the most important people he still had left.

"Hey, Eskel…" Geralt said after a while, speaking slowly, not quite sure how to put his thoughts into words.

Eskel faltered as he heard his name, before he finally looked up again, his reaction delayed. "Hm?"

Geralt paused, taking a moment to think, before he finally let out a sigh, realizing he would never get the sentiment out perfectly. "Glad you ended up a witcher," he told him, quietly. "That… you're my brother."

Eskel hesitated, seeming surprised, before he finally huffed, sitting up a bit straighter. "Yeah," he agreed, letting out a soft, humourless chuckle. "You're a pain in my ass, but… guess I'm glad, too."

Geralt smirked, having expected the sarcastic response. "Never would've met Shani if you weren't one," he reminded him, frankly.

Eskel paused again, tilting his head, seeming to consider this thought more seriously. "Guess that's true, too," he agreed after a moment. "Guess it's good I stuck around. For her, if nothing else."

Geralt snorted, looking down to his mug again, realizing that sincerity with Eskel was easier than he might have thought; he was deflecting, of course, as he always did when he was complimented, but it was still clear he was taking Geralt's words to heart. He truly was a good listener, Geralt realized, which he supposed had been lost on all of them in the wake of Lambert's constant blustering over the years, but he guessed it had been much more obvious all along than he might have realized, given how much Eskel knew about his brothers. He knew more about Geralt and Lambert than either of them might have thought, or even knew about one another, and he likely knew more about Vesemir as well, though Geralt had never taken the chance to ask him.

"Y'know…" Geralt said after a moment, still earnest, though he was sure it would be waved off with another joke. "What happened with your dad… think your mom was better for it. The guy who came after, he was better for her. The man she deserved."

Eskel hummed, looking down to his flagon again, his expression growing solemn, as if this were somehow hard to hear. "That's… true," he finally agreed, pushing his mug aside to fold his hands on the table in front of him. "Just… hard not to think about it sometimes. How things might've been different if my mom'd held on just a little longer. Just waited one more year before giving me up. Might've grown up normal. Had lots of siblings. Had a family."

Geralt grunted, raising a brow. "Think you ended up with both of those things anyway," he observed.

Eskel hesitated, seeming surprised, before he finally let out a soft huff of forced-sounding laughter. "Two annoying brothers and a wonderful empress niece," he agreed, looking up again. "Guess that's good enough for me." He paused, considering for a moment, as if the thought of what he had had never quiet occurred to him, until he finally broke the meditation with a deep breath, his golden eyes straying to a window on the far wall. He looked stern, solemn, almost regretful, as if he could still not quite shake the thought of the life he almost had, but the expression was soon replaced by another, a more hopeful one, and, after a moment, he raised his brows, picking up his folded hands to rest them under his chin.

"Guess you make a point, though," Eskel said, his voice almost distant as he spoke this time. "Don't always have to get things right the first time. Sometimes the second try's better."

Geralt gave a low chuckle, lifting his mug again. "Kinda insulting myself, but yeah," he agreed, good-naturedly. "Think you were always meant to be the better man for Shani. Think she deserves that. Think you both do."

Eskel fell silent at the assurance, staring at his mug for a long time, as if trying to find some meaning in its worn frame, before he finally took a deep breath, lifting his head again, though his gaze stayed fixed on the flagon. "Hey… Geralt?" he said, his voice soft, earnest, sounding unsure if he should even be speaking again.

"Hm?" Geralt asked, looking up.

Eskel hesitated, sucking his scarred lip for a moment. "Think we could've been good together?" he asked after a while, raising his eyes to meet Geralt's. "Me and Shani? Think we could've made it work, been happy?"

Geralt wavered, taken aback by the question. "Know I do," he finally answered, honestly.

Eskel fell quiet at the answer, seeming thoughtful, before he finally nodded, looking down to his mug again. "…Thanks," he said, wrapping his hands around it. "For… giving me the chance to know her. For however long." He paused, staring down into his mug for a while, at the empty bottom, dry and dark, before a small, strange expression began to eke across his face, tilting his scarred mouth up into a bitter smile. "Feels like destiny really had it in for us this time," he said, looking up again, the edge of his nose creasing in a grimace. "Put us right where we needed to be to have everything we wanted, then… pulled the rug out from under us. Like it always does."

Geralt grunted. "Don't think destiny's got anything to do with it," he said, draining his mug as well.

Eskel huffed, pushing his mug aside. "Think what you want, Geralt," he said, getting to his feet with a grunt. "Know you don't believe in destiny. Think it's all bullshit. Coincidence. Stories to make people feel better about things they can't control." He hesitated, staring down at the table, seeming to take a moment to consider what he wanted to say, and Geralt watched him in thoughtful silence, noting the way the light from the flames flickered over his face. He looked tired, Geralt thought, with the shadows of the hall pooling in the caverns of his eyes, the lines of his scars, but he said nothing, only waiting as Eskel lifted his head again, his brow knitting in a solemn countenance.

"Couldn't tell you if there really is such thing as destiny," Eskel admitted after a moment, his tone grave, but earnest; there was a strange dichotomy in his voice, Geralt noted—a gravity born not of anger, but of hope, long tested. "But sometimes it's nice to have something to lean on. Something to explain why things happen, when life sometimes just… isn't fair otherwise." He paused again, his lips thinning, his expression growing grim in the long shadows thrown by the firelight, until, after another moment, he took a long breath, letting it out in an exhausted-sounding sigh. "Good to have something to blame sometimes," he admitted, his voice quieter now, almost too low for Geralt to hear. "Nice to think, if not this, maybe destiny's got something else in store. Better than thinking everything's random… realizing you have nothing to look forward to."

Geralt frowned as Eskel finished, struck by his confession, realizing he had nothing to say in return, but Eskel did not seem to expect an answer, only passing a weary hand back through his shaggy hair. "You sleep good, Geralt," he told him, tiredly, waving a dismissive hand towards the table. "Lots more work to do tomorrow. Don't stay up too late." Pausing another moment then, he stared at the floor, seeming lost in his thoughts, before he looked up across the table at Geralt again, meeting his eyes once more. "I'm… gonna talk to Shani," he said, his voice quieter. "Tell her how I feel. Figure, should do it at least once, before…"

He stopped, trailing off, his mouth hanging open for a moment, as if expecting more to come through, but when nothing else passed his tongue, he quickly closed his mouth again, pursing his lips in a discouraged line. "G'night, Geralt," he said after a while, offering him an uncomfortable nod of his head. Then, before Geralt could stop him, he turned away from the fire, starting across the great hall towards the stairwell.

---

Kaer Morhen was quiet again, as it always was when everyone had gone to bed for the evening, but Geralt could not find it in himself to close his eyes, unable to settle his mind after his talk with Eskel. He had expected, perhaps only recently, that Eskel might try to volunteer himself in the fight for Shani's life, but that did not stop the decision from gnawing at his conscience, making it impossible to soothe his thoughts for sleep. Eskel, despite his stubbornness, despite his disdain for notoriety, was a good man, and he deserved to live a full life, not one cut short by his brother's poor decisions and the wicked whims of a demon. Letting out a low hum, Geralt sat up in bed, pressing his face into his hands with a groan, before he finally let out a long, weary breath, realizing sleep would not be coming tonight.

Reaching under his pillow, he fished out the xenovox, bringing it to his lips with a huff. "Yen?" he asked, quietly, careful not to wake Triss. "Gotta talk to you. If you're there, say something."

There was a short silence from Yennefer's end, followed by a faint squeal and hiss as the xenovox patched through, before he heard the sound of soft shuffling, as if the sorceress were trying to dig out her xenovox to attend to it. After another short moment, he heard her flustered breathing as she finally brought it to her lips to speak. "Geralt, I'm in the middle of something," Yennefer told him, sounding curt. "Can this not wait until tomorrow?"

"No," Geralt answered, determinedly. "Can't wait. Only take a minute. Got something to tell you. Need to say it."

Yennefer sighed, sounding unsurprised, her demeanour softening a bit as she realized he would not be dissuaded. "Fine," she answered, her voice low. "But please, make it quick. I don't wish to keep my company waiting."

Geralt hesitated, realizing time was short, making it all the more important to get his statement right on the first try – a talent he had never possessed, and doubted he would gain now, under pressure. "Just wanted to tell you… I love you," he finally said, deciding simplicity was the best response. It was not the entirety of what he had wanted to say, but he could tell that Yennefer was in no mood to hear the rest at the moment.

Yennefer hesitated, seeming to expect more, before she finally let out another soft sigh, sounding impatient. "Yes, Geralt," she said, speaking slowly. "I'm aware. And I, you. Is that everything you wished to tell me?"

"No," Geralt answered, frankly, taking the opportunity to continue whether she wanted him to or not. "Thought about it a lot, Yen… don't wanna lose you. Can't lose you. Never really knew how to tell you before, but…" He paused, thinking it over, shifting on the hard straw mattress and pulling his feet up into bed with him, before he finally let out a long sigh, running a hand back through his hair as he brought the xenovox closer. "Don't think there's any one right way to say it," he admitted, trying to keep from tripping over his awkward tongue as he continued. "Just, not complete without you. Not—me, without you. Can't lose that. Do anything to make you happy—anything. Hope you know that."

"I know," Yennefer answered gently, sounding much more patient now. "I've known for a while."

Geralt nodded, leaning forward again, resting his arm on his knee as he took another breath to continue. "Used to be different, y'know," he said after a while, not finished. "Used to be this—great adventurer. Go off… months at a time, never miss anyone. Never cared about anyone. About the future. But… that's not me anymore. Don't know that person anymore. Don't like that person." He paused, staring at the edge of the bed, at the fraying cloth covering the patchy straw, at the cold stone floor of the great hall, flickering orange and black in the low light of the fire. "Barely stand to be away from you for a day now," he added, furrowing his brow as he thought it over. "Been a day, and already missing you. Can't sleep without you. Need you here, beside me."

"It's been two days—" Yennefer began to correct him.

"Listen," Geralt insisted, cutting her off. He took a deep breath in the silence that followed, knowing his interruption would have gotten him in trouble with her usually—but there was nothing usual about tonight, and he wet his lips again, preparing to continue his speech. "You're the most important part of me, Yen," he told her, nearly pressing his lips to the xenovox with how close he held it. "Not complete without you. I'm a shell, a—a piece. A fragment of the man I am now. Man I've become. That spell, the—djinn… meant nothing. Our love's bigger than that. Always been bigger. Always will be." He paused again, taking another breath, thinning his lips as he pushed himself to keep going – he could never remember speaking so openly to Yennefer before, but he knew he had to get it out, before it drove him mad.

"Don't give a shit about fate," he told her, his voice low. "Don't believe in destiny. Think it's all bullshit. But what I do know is… I love you. Wanna be there for you. Wanna be with you, whatever destiny has in store for us." He stopped again, staring at the edge of the bed, wondering if his wife was still listening to him at all, before he laid back against his stiff pillow, looking up at the crumbling ceiling above him. "Dunno if I can give you what you want," he admitted, before hesitating, correcting himself, "…Know I can't. Know it's impossible. But wanna keep trying, long as we live. Keep doing everything I can, to do right by you. You're the best thing in my life, Yen. Just wanted to tell you, before… I forget to say it again."

A long silence followed from Yennefer's end, and Geralt hesitated, listening for some cue, some reaction, until he finally heard her take a deep breath, seeming uncertain what to say for a long moment. "Geralt…" she finally began, speaking slowly. "This is all very nice. However… I can't help feeling this is some sort of prank. I know how you and Eskel can be when you get together—"

"Not a prank," Geralt assured her. "Eskel's asleep. Just wanted to tell you what I should've years ago. Just thought, the way Eskel talks about Shani…" He paused, trying to find the right words to describe it, before he finally let out a deep huff, giving up. "He's so sincere," he said after a moment. "Made me realize, you deserve that, too. Always deserved it. Just wish I was better at expressing it. Would tell you all the time if I was. Need to work on that."

Yennefer was silent for another moment longer, still seeming uncertain, before she finally sighed, sounding tired. "That's… very sweet," she admitted after a while, sounding less on edge now, her tone audibly softening. "And I love you, too, Geralt. But you must get some sleep now. I still haven't completed my investigation, and I must finish before we can see each other again."

Geralt hummed, disappointed by her response, having hoped she might have some tender words to say in return. "Eskel says he's willing to challenge O'Dimm for Shani's soul," he added after a moment, speaking quieter. "Didn't talk him into it. Didn't ask him to do it. Just… volunteered, so she could have a chance." He paused again, thinking it over, staring up at the ceiling, dark and littered with cobwebs. "You were right," he added after a while. "Think he really cares for her. Just wish it didn't have to end this way."

Yennefer hesitated, seeming surprised to hear that. "I hope it doesn't come to that," she finally answered, sounding much more solemn. "I'm not sure what can be done to prevent it, but… we mustn't stop looking. I only hope one of us can find the answers we need to circumvent such measures." She paused, seeming thoughtful for a while, as if something he had mentioned had struck a chord with her, giving her reason to stay on the line. "Did you manage to find out anything more about the scientific trials at Oxenfurt, or the connection to Ban Ard?" she asked after a moment, sounding hopeful. "I know you suspected Shani might have more information. Any lead we have is a valuable one, at the moment."

Geralt paused, before shaking his head. "Not much," he admitted. "Said Oxenfurt and Ban Ard did cooperate on some things. Possible they could've collaborated on the potion, but… seemed to think the experiment was bigger than just that. That that was just one piece of it. Said any records to confirm were probably lost when the researchers died, though." He fell silent again, his brow furrowing, thinking back to his strange conversation with Shani from the day before—how she had reasoned everything into a single puzzle, though he still felt there were too many pieces missing to believe it.

"Seemed to think whoever was opening gates was looking for nonhuman subjects to experiment on before moving on to humans," he added, thoughtfully. "Never known any scientists apart from Moreau with knowledge of portals, or… who studied reproductive properties of monsters. Seems strange."

Yennefer was silent for a moment as he finished, though he could hear her breathing from the other end, letting him know she was still there. "Perhaps not so strange," she finally said, sounding vague, as if unsure whether to share her thoughts. Geralt frowned, recognizing her tone, wondering what he could have said to remind her of some relevant detail, but she quickly took a deep breath in, making it clear she would not be elaborating on the matter. "Regardless, without proper leads, we've no proof it's all connected," she said after a moment, her tone firmer now, sounding tired. "And if Moreau is truly our only plausible lead, then we've nothing more to go on. Moreau is long dead, his journal lost. And without knowing who stole it, we've no hope of learning anything further."

Geralt frowned, troubled by the uncertainty in her tone. "You okay, Yen?" he asked, not used to hearing the sorceress doubt herself so openly.

Yennefer let out another quiet sigh. "Yes," she answered, honestly. "Just… thoughtful. I apologize, it's… been a long day."

"Hm," Geralt answered, still not convinced. "Where are you? Can at least tell me where you are."

Yennefer paused again, seeming uncomfortable, before she finally let out a short, put-upon huff through the xenovox. "I… can't," she told him, concernedly. "Not until I find what I've come for. You must believe me—this will all make sense in the end." She hesitated, seeming regretful, and he could almost see her sucking her lip, battling her instincts to keep her information close over telling him everything. "I… worry about you, Geralt," she finally admitted, taking him by surprise to hear her continue. "I worry this may all be too much for you. You're right, you know—you have changed. For the better, doubtlessly, but in no unmistakeable way. You're a gentler man than you were before, and I worry… I worry that the world may take advantage of that newfound gentleness. The world is cruel to those who refuse cruelty, and it seems determined to be crueller to you than most."

Geralt hesitated, taken aback, having not expected so solemn an admission from his wife – but then, he supposed she had every reason to worry, with him spilling his heart to her after only a few days apart. He was not a soft or helpless man by any means, but he could feel himself growing wearier with every passing day, finding less strength to keep pushing on when every step forward only seemed to garner two steps back. He narrowed his lips in the silence, unsure what to say, or if there was anything left to say at all, until he finally heard Yennefer sigh again, making him wonder what she was thinking now.

"I have to go, Geralt," Yennefer told him, her voice still quiet, sounding almost regretful to say it. "As I mentioned, I'm with company, and… I really must continue my enquiry. I promise, as soon as I find what I came for, I'll tell you everything."

"You're my happiness, Yen," Geralt told her, hoping to catch her while she was still on the line.

"And you, mine," Yennefer answered, softly, before pressing a gentle kiss to the xenovox and disconnecting.