Another dawn had come. Hundreds of languid beams sneaked through the windows and holes in the walls, shimmered in the air and decorated the chambers of Kaer Morhen with a warm, golden halo.
That morning Geralt took his time and he paid the price. The day started for him with a vague memory of familiar lips on his cheek and a bleak realisation that the other spot in the bed was empty. There was also a letter on the pillow which recommended in a rather homey manner a bath and breakfast downstairs.
He washed the initial failure away with a long bath, forgetting for a moment about the piercing cold around him. Not long after, he had to dress in hurry, all at sudden remembering about it again. Then at last, he headed downstairs. Straight to the kitchen smelling of ham and cheese omelettes – a mandatory item at the list of Midwinter activities.
He didn't pass the threshold. His legs seemed to be embedded in the marble floor and didn't want to move. So did his eyes hanging on the scene they were witnessing.
Triss Merigold in the flesh, watched over the sizzling pans and skillets that morning. She was sweet and gorgeous as ever. Her brown fur vest matched perfectly the colour of her hair and gave her an almost vulpine elegance. The only difference was her hair. Long, straight tresses had become curlier and no more reached beyond the line of her shoulders. The entire arrangement was finished off with a subtle gold brooch.
"Can you come here please? I'm going to damage another one," she called out of the blue. Not to Geralt however. A man oddly similar to Eskel emerged from the other part of the kitchen, moved closer and flipped the disobedient cake.
Geralt wanted to join them but then Eskel placed his robust hands firmly at Triss' waist. He touched boldly the skin of her neck with his lips. Suddenly all the courage left Geralt.
###
"Sure you don't need a drink, Geralt?" asked Eskel, biting down on a smile.
Geralt remained quiet. His eyes as on the blink couldn't focus on anything other than Eskel and Triss' intertwined hands. "How did it happen?" he choked up, to his tough luck aloud.
"And how does it usually happen, Geralt?" Lambert grunted in between sips of fortified wine. His eyes seemed unnaturally red in the cold air. Perhaps alcohol or sleepless night were to blame. Most likely both. "Advances and compliments. And plenty of persistence. Might be surprised but not everyone has a djinn to help."
"You don't say, Lambert," chuckled Geralt and filled his mouth with a sound bite of omelette. Eskel accompanied him with a rhythmical nods of his head. "Besides, the second djinn took the curse off. We're still together, so what's your point?"
"You basically answered your own question."
"Did I?"
"Sometimes a djinn is not required," Triss barged in, still goggling at the man sitting beside her. Something unfamiliar and strangely intriguing hided in her gaze. Something Geralt had never seen before. Well, anytime other than that one time he had witnessed them cooking. "It hits you one day. Like a lightning bolt. You think you know the person inside out. Then you realise you know nothing at all."
"You sure it's not a curse or a spell, Triss," Lambert interrupted with a nasty smirk on his lips.
The sorceress however didn't seem to let any trivialities bug her that morning. "I'll go change. You promised me ice skating, remember?" she told Eskel, dressing her words in the sweetest notes. Her long, tinted eyelashes flicked like a butterfly's wing, lured but in the same time forewarned about consequences of refusal. Eskel could not be aware, but Geralt's adept eyes recorded everything.
###
"It's hard to believe something small like this can cost so much," mumbled Eskel, putting the ring back to its box. He was definitely a man of taste. A showy sapphire glittered even in the company of white gold and the aureole of tiny diamonds. In comparison, Yennefer's ring looked like a scanty relative.
"Don't want to scare you but it's just the tip of the iceberg. Expensive gifts aside, your life will undergo significant modifications. Plethora of compromises and silent devotion follows. A long term relationship is a hard work."
The witcher blew out a loud breath. "I know, Geralt."
"What's next? Going to start a family life with Deidre or fishing for another Surprise Child? I bet both. Always trying to outplay Geralt, aren't you? " Lambert snorted, glancing at his jug and pretending that the object costing an equivalent of at least ten witcher contracts didn't bother him even one ounce.
Geralt confronted him with a subtle, albeit readable smile. Then he pushed aside the bottle of wine the other man almost cradled. "Isn't it a bit too early to make things official?" he directed to Eskel.
A sad grin creeped onto the witcher's lips. "Maybe," he growled, hiding the box back into his pocket. " Maybe I'm wrong, but can one ever know for sure? Maybe she'll turn out to be a bloodlust man-eater or maybe I'll become a git. Maybe we won't be happy at all. I don't know yet. What I know is that the last fourteen months were the best time of my life."
"Fourteen?" asked Lambert, for the first time that morning visibly interested. "So it has started-"
"Yes, it began only few weeks after Geralt and Yennefer had got back together," replied Eskel. His composure erased the childish smile from Lambert's lips. "I'm not proud of it. But it's not how it looks like either. None took advantage on the other. For most of the time we were friends. She really needed a friend. She was so vulnerable when you-"
"Not that I judge that," Geralt cut him off. He was getting tired of those recurring comments. He had been doing everything he was asked but atonement seemed always out of reach. "When will you ask her then?"
Eskel rubbed his forehead with the top of his hand. "As soon as everyone is here. I'm so tired, I tell you. Every time we're together I recite in spirit 10 green bottles. By now, she must think I'm a freaking enthusiast of recycling."
"Or a habitual consumer of alcohol," Lambert interrupted.
Geralt fixed him with a cold stare and confiscated the bottle which somehow ended up in the witcher's hands again. "Listen to your heart. Sounds soppy, I know… For the sake of the mission, I recommend everyone to recite in spirit as often as possible."
"When will Ciri be here?" asked Eskel after a while.
"Tonight most likely."
"Tonight," he sighed, tapping the countertop of the table with his fingertips. "From tonight onward we may always be together."
"Or you may not," Lambert snarled. "You've chosen yourself a wrong audience, you bloody moron. The fellow sorceresses don't tolerate each other if you haven't paid attention."
The relationship between Eskel and Triss has intrigued me for a long while, hence I decided to give it a try in this story. Hope you'll enjoy this little puzzle.