"Look at you," Lambert says, kicking the sole of Ciri's boot as she looks up at him, her body jerking in surprise as he makes himself known after hours of silence. Her fingers still, warm from the fire next to her and the rapid movement of the yarn tangled around her fingers, and she blinks in the dim firelight, looking up at the youngest wolf.
"Wha'?" She murmurs, blinking.
He nods at her fingers with a grin. "You're not even thirteen springs old, yet you look like an old maid there with the yarn."
"Rude." She rolls her eyes.
"But genuinely, you're like a jack rabbit there. How do you not miss any of them?"
Ciri looks down at the rapidly growing cream blanket in her hands. Kaer Morhen had been brought to a standstill for the better part of a week with a bastard of a snowstorm. The livestock and the horses and the hunting dogs had to come into the keep, and all witchers had spent days patching up as many holes in the walls as they could find. Ciri obviously couldn't help with it, nor could she train with the blizzard outside, and Vesemir was too busy with the walls to give her any reading assignments. So, she spun all the spare wool she could, cleaned and spun it all into yarn skeins. And now, in the tradition of Mouseack, she had made herself busy stitching a large quilt with a wooden hook she'd manage to carve in the armory.
"A couple'a nurse maids taught me when there was nothing to do when Court was closed down because of sicknesses." She starts it up again. "Couldn't leave my room, we found an old chamber that had a spinning wheel and some hooks. Passed the time like this." She shrugged, her fingers barely slowing down as she pushed wood through yarn over and over again, twisting it through so the stitches began to form on another row.
"And here i thought you could only stitch together shitty tapestries and stick your finger out when you drink water." Lambert cocks his head. "Could make a good hunting trap out of that." He considers, touching the stitches. He's surprised that it's so secure and tight, not fragile or delicate.
"Could do one if you want." She shrugs.
"Make me a blanket then, lass. It's fucking freezing here with the snow, no sign of it letting up." He throws himself onto the chair near her, watching silently as she speeds up again, the wooden hook going in and out of the white square, wool twisting from right to left as her hands continue to work.
"You're a proper old maid, you know." He speaks again, a sly grin pinching his mouth. "You can cook up a feast, can darn with wool and drink tea by the fireplace. What's next? Gonna take up baking and drinking hot tea, darn socks and peg clothes out to dry?"
"Oi." She kicks his foot. "I'll leave holes in your blanket if you're a dick to me."
He smirks. "Just like Geralt, you are. Two peas in a pod."
"What about me?"
Both she and Lambert jump as he appears in the doorway like a spectre, Eskel and Coën following behind. They're all paler than usual, hair windswept and cheeks red.
Eskel throws himself on top of Lambert, snickering as he huffs and growls underneath him.
Geralt raises an eyebrow, touching the top of Ciri's head as he takes a seat next to the fire. They watch with Coën as the two wolves snip and snarl at each other, Lambert barely holding on from falling off the couch.
"Think they'll be done before Ves's finished making the stew?" He mutters to Geralt, who grins at him.
"Esk'll have him pinned before the potatoes are peeled."
"Oi!" Geralt ducks as a pillow is launched at his head, snickering. Ciri giggles, putting away her yarn. It could wait.
The day was going as per normal, Ciri is running around doing her lessons, focusing hard to replicate her mentors actions and many times additional instructions, in an attempt to help the girl along.
Unlike normal, though, was her new shadow.
Lambert has been following her around the entire day, always about 10 feet back and resting against the nearest wall, looking rather bored. Eskel shakes off the urge to ask his brother just what in the world he could be doing, but Ciri doesnt seem to mind him being there and figures its some sort of bonding ritual the pup had come up with to get closer to his niece.
He is about to walk away when Ciri accidentally knocks into a vile she was meant to keep upright, the small ashen poof coating her as if she had been working in the dirt all day, the force blowing her hair in all sorts of directions.
This was her third mess up in a row, the steam nearly visible coming from her ears and she fights the urge to scream.
“ARE YOU-” she pauses for just a second, Eskel watching as his brother fills in seamlessly, hiding the chuckle in his voice.
“Fucking,” he offers, waving a hand dismissivly before going back to picking at his fingers.
“-KIDDING ME?” she finishes without so much as a hesitation. Snorting a laugh, eskel slides into the space next to his brother.
“Okay, ill bite. What was that all about?” Lambert fights his own grin.
“Song bird banned Ciri from swearing, something about it not being lady like… So i volunteered to help.” he shrugs, as if it was obvious.
“You just like saying fuck,” eskel dedapans, barely hiding the amusement in his tone. Lamberts even baritone beside him makes his shoulders shake with silent laughter.
“That doesn’t make my job any less important.”
==
Tag list: @errruvande @thesleepy1 @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @queenxxxsupreme @screechingdreamercollectorsblog @open--till--midnight @one-eyed-captain-kinky
@seidenbros @cosmos-coma @deanmcogorman
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a/n: Reader Request [from @sometimesiwrite Ciri and Uncle Eskel??? OMG DID THEY LEAVE ESKEL IS CHARGE OF “THE TALK???”] i am LIVING for the awkwardness that is Eskel.
(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)
Warnings: discussion of consent, as well as the use of r*pe for definition purposes, language
Eskel really wishes he had gone hunting.
“Uncle Eskel?” Ciri’s voice chimes across the table, empty save for the aforementioned Witcher. Geralt and Lambert left this morning to rid the surrounding area of a family of draconids that have settled in, and Vesemir has gone to the lake to catch some supper for everyone. “Can I ask you about sex?”
Eskel’s spoon clatters to the table as he blinks at the girl-no, the young woman. Cirilla is growing into a young woman, and it makes sense that she should ask someone about that part of life. However, Eskel is not sure that he’s the best person for that. “Shouldn’t you ask Geralt?”
Ciri scoffs, shoveling another generous portion of jerky into her mouth. “Well, I did. He got all pale and he kept just shaking his head, whispering “Fuck” as he fled the room. And before you can say it, I did ask Lambert too-”
“Well, there’s a mistake.”
“But he just doubled over laughing and told me to ask you. Yennefer won’t be back until winter, and I can’t ask Vesemir, that would be weird…”
“And this isn’t?” Eskel grumbles, trying to figure out where exactly in his life he fucked up so royally to lead to this moment of having to teach someone else’s damn kid about sex.
“Not really, you’re the sanest person here,” Ciri says nonchalantly. She is a summer child, having just turned fourteen around the solstice. Eskel finds himself thinking that, if they were here under different circumstances, she would be undergoing the first of the Trials soon.
He shakes that line of thought away, focusing back on Ciri. He sighs, resigned to a very long afternoon. “Can we go sit in the library?”
Ciri nods, finishing up her lunch at a relaxed pace. She still has some tendencies of being raised in a royal family, such as eating as slowly as she pleases, thank you very much. Eskel stands, depositing his empty bowl and spoon into the washbasin for later. He trudges towards the library as if he were headed to the gallows, his steps echoing through the empty halls.
The scent of old books and abandoned alchemical experiments greets Eskel as he shoulders open the great wooden door to the library. He sits in a comfy chair by the fireplace, casting Igni to help warm the room. Autumn is approaching, leaving some of the larger areas in the decrepit castle a bit drafty. Eskel finds a copy of Half a Century of Poetry, or as Geralt calls it, A Load of Horse Shit. Eskel opens it up to a random page, reading through the tales of his brother as he waits for the Princess.
He doesn’t have to wait long, for she soon tips open the door in and peeks inside. When Ciri finds Eskel just as he said he would be she sags with palpable relief, stepping fully into the room and sitting in a seat directly across from him.
“Right,” she says, her tone leaving no room for argument. “I have a few questions.”
Eskel hums, closing the book and setting it on the ground next to him. Should’ve grabbed the copy of the Beastiary that’s hollowed out with a flask of wine…
“So, I know about a woman’s cycles,” Eskel flushes, remembering that debacle of a few years prior. How they all missed that Ciri had hit that part of womanhood was beyond him, and he had vowed to do better by her. I guess this is where I do that, huh?
“But I just want to understand the mechanics of it all, I just don’t see what the big deal of it is.” Eskel watches as Ciri messes with a stray thread on the hem of her shirt, apparently a habit picked up from himself. He smiles to himself, pondering how to start what will be the beginning of a bit of an uncomfortable conversation.
“Well,” Eskel clears his throat, attempting to soften his voice. It doesn’t work, it never does. “When a man and a woman...enjoy each other’s company…well, it doesn’t have to be that way, it can be two men, or two women too, or just people together, oh Melitele…” He runs his hand down the scarred side of his face, attempting to get his thoughts together. Ciri only looks at him, waiting for him to go on.
“You know how Lambert goes all rigid whenever something touches him by accident?” Ciri’s brows scrunch up in confusion with the sudden change of direction, but she nods along anyways. “Well, that’s because he’s very sensitive to touch. Ever since he went through the Trials, and probably even before that. People touched Lambert without his permission, and they hurt him. I’m sure you’ve heard how his father treated him?”
“Of course, I still can’t understand how a parent could do such cruel things to their own child, or any child for that matter.”
Eskel shakes his head, knowing just how far some people’s ruthlessness can go. “Well, sometimes that happens to adults too, with sex. If someone isn’t interested in someone else, or they do something that they don’t like, or anything to make them uncomfortable, it’s not okay. It’s rape.”
Ciri’s eyes widen at the word, having heard it before in discussions eavesdropped upon in court. She never understood the connotation, but she knew the pain that it could cause for those affected. “So, if someone wants to have sex with me, and I say no, but they do it anyway, that’s rape?”
Eskel nods before adding, “Even if you don’t exactly say “no,” but definitely not “yes,” it’s still rape. And you can change your mind, too. You can be right in the middle of something with a person and decide that you don’t want that anymore. Just say the word, and they should leave you alone. And if they don’t, you fight like hell. No one should take that choice away from you, ever.”
Ciri sits quietly for a few moments, clearly thinking about what was said. “Okay, and what about when they do want to have sex, what then?”
Eskel’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water, unsure of exactly where to start. He mentally curses every single gods-forsaken person that is supposed to be in the keep before launching into a very awkward discussion about different kinds of sex, how it can fit into relationships, always reiterating on the importance of consent. Ciri interjects with questions and further discussion from time to time, and if Eskel didn’t know any better, he would think that she was just trying to prolong his torture. But he does know better, that Ciri is really just trying to understand this part of life.
“Hey Uncle Eskel,” Ciri says, standing with a confidence gained from years at court and a sureity gained from her training in Kaer Morhen, “thanks for this. I appreciate it.”
Eskel only grunts as she takes her leave, peering out the window to watch the sun begin to dip below the horizon. He heaves himself out of the chair and walks to the courtyard, finding the three missing Witchers all arriving through the gates. Vesemir tosses him a bag of fish, which Eskel promptly sets to the side. He puts his hands on his hips in his best impression of the older Witcher as he watches Geralt dismount Roach.
“You have a nice day?” Geralt asks, raising an eyebrow at Eskel’s stance.
“Fucking marvelous, thanks.” Eskel’s voice is a low growl, his lips pursed in annoyance. “Apparently, Ciri’s father has been ignoring her questions about sex, and left her to ask me instead.”
Geralt’s eyes widen comically, and Eskel can’t help the way his lips turn up at the corners. “And what did you tell her?”
“The truth, you moron. Nothing salacious, but she needs to learn about this stuff Geralt. Ignoring it won’t make it go away.”
Geralt sighs, running his hand through his silver hair. “You’re right. She already so grown up. I don’t want her to grow up…”
Eskel moves to stand before Geralt, pulling his brother into an embrace. He pointedly ignores Lambert’s faux gagging before patting Geralt on the back a few times as he steps back. “You owe me so much alcohol.”
Geralt chuckles, nodding as they all walk off towards the keep, ready to tuck into a night of rest and relaxation, or at least as much as a bunch of Witchers can get.
Based on Kashimalin’s 50 Types of Kisses prompt list.
Prompt: “Laying a gentle kiss to the back of the other’s hand.”
Pairing: Ciri & Eskel (Gen)
Read on AO3.
Eskel and Ciri share a special bond, despite rocky beginnings. Even though it took Ciri considerably longer to warm up to Eskel - and get over her fear of his scars - the two formed a unique bond, or so Eskel likes to believe. Geralt is like a father to Ciri, that much is undeniable, and over the years Lambert adopted the older brother role rather than uncle. Come to think of it, Ciri never used the moniker ‘uncle’ for Lambert. He was always just Lambert.
Eskel guesses that him being promoted to the role of uncle may have had something to do with the fact that he and Geralt are as close as brothers, even though they aren’t related by blood. Ciri picked up on that early on, which is probably the only reason she started seeking Eskel out more only a couple of weeks after she first arrived at the keep. At first, she would only come find Eskel if Geralt wasn’t around, or was otherwise occupied. As time passed, however, Ciri came to Eskel just for the pleasure of his company, and the two soon bonded over their shared interests - animal care, signs, embarrassing stories about Geralt… Eskel had a lot of those in his repertoire, and they always end with Ciri doubled over with laughter, tears running down her face.
Eskel likes to indulge the child in Ciri. Just because she’s training with the witchers doesn’t mean that she should be deprived of a childhood. Eskel, Geralt and Lambert never got to be kids, never had the chance to play and have fun. For them, it was always very much about training, getting their skills up, preparing them for the Trials. It doesn’t have to be like that with Ciri, and Eskel will always encourage her to play and have fun whenever she can spare a moment from her training. Eskel often finds her crouching behind a door waiting for him to step into the room so she can scare him. It never works, not really, but Eskel pretends it does for her sake. It builds her confidence.
Ciri and Eskel like to play hide and seek together. That usually happens in the evening, in the time frame between bath time and dinner, when Eskel is not on cooking duty of course. Ciri will often find Eskel in his room or in the library, nose buried in a book, mending his armour, or whetting his swords. She’ll saunter into his room, her vibrant green eyes sparkling with the promise of mischief. Eskel will look up from whatever task he’s busying himself with and manage a lopsided smile, knowing full well what the little she-devil is up to. When she’s close enough, Ciri will reach out and slap Eskel’s comparably massive hand before uttering a quick ‘tag, you’re it’, and disappearing in a flash. Of course, Eskel could find Ciri easily by following her scent, or by listening to the rapid fluttering of her pulse.
But what would the fun in that be?
Eskel and Ciri will spend ages playing hide and seek, usually until the others call them down for supper - in which case their game of hide and seek turns into a race to see who can reach the dining hall fastest, regardless of where they are inside the castle. Eskel often wins those races, which has Ciri huffing, but the little devil is getting faster and faster each time. Besides, she never stays mad at him for long.
One evening, Eskel finds Ciri crying in her room late at night, long after they had retreated to their rooms for the night after dinner. The girl is clearly trying to be quiet about it, but there’s no fooling a witcher’s enhanced senses. Eskel knocks on her door softly and steps into her room, where he is met with the sight of his niece crying pitifully into her pillow.
“Go away,” she mumbles miserably, though the usual heat in her voice is absent. Eskel goes to sit on the bed next to Ciri, the mattress depressing under his weight. His large hand nearly spans both her shoulder blades as he rests it soothingly on her upper back. He can feel the way Ciri’s petite body shakes with the force of her sobbing.
“’s alright, pup. It’s alright.”
“I miss her.” The heartbroken declaration is followed by wet sniffles that tug at Eskel’s heartstrings. “I miss grandmama. She always knew what to say when I had nightmares.”
“What would she say?” Eskel asks, his hand rubbing up and down her back. It takes Ciri a little while to calm down so she’s able to answer Eskel’s question. She manages to sit up and shift onto the mattress until she’s pressed against Eskel’s side. He wraps his arm around her body and pulls her closer.
“She’d say… that she’d never let anything hurt me. Because I’m the Lion Cub of Cintra, and she is… was … the Lioness. And no one touches the Lioness’ cub.”
“Hm. Your grandmama was a wise woman. Strong, too. And fiercely loyal to the people she cared about.” Eskel leans down and presses a kiss to the crown of Ciri’s head. “And just like the Lioness of Cintra would never let anythin’ happen to her cub, so the wolves of Kaer Morhen will always protect their pup.”
Ciri cranes her neck and manages a grateful, albeit teary smile. Eskel returns the gesture fondly.
“Grandpapa said that the Tuirseach bears would also watch over me. When I was small, he used to carry me around my room and dance with me. He taught me how to dance like they do on Skellige.” Ciri perks up at the memory, like she’s suddenly struck with an idea. Her green eyes meet his amber gaze, and Eskel recognises the now familiar spark of excitement in them. “Eskel, can you dance?”
A warm chuckle rumbles from deep within Eskel’s chest.
“Afraid that is not a skill we were taught here.”
“I’ll teach you,” Ciri declares, her sorrow long forgotten as she slips off the bed and stands between Eskel’s legs, “it’s only fair. You teach me how to fight, so I’ll teach you how to dance. It’s really easy.”
“Ciri, it’s late-”
“Please, uncle Eskel?” Ciri’s lip juts out pleadingly, her eyes growing teary once again, and Eskel is unable to resist that look. He heaves a resigned sigh, which Ciri correctly interprets as him agreeing to her idea, if the wide smirk that graces her features is anything to go by.
“Fine. I’m all ears, lil pup.”
“So first,” Ciri extends her hand, knuckles up, in a very familiar gesture in noble circles, “you ask the lady if she’d like to dance with you.”
Eskel’s lips curl up into a fond smile, but he happily obliges his niece and gently lifts Ciri’s extended hand to his lips, where he presses a chaste kiss on the back of her hand.
“Your Highness, may I have this dance?”
Ciri giggles, then nods her assent and pulls Eskel off the bed. She’s tiny compared to him, a fragile-looking little thing, but Ciri is growing physically stronger by the day. There is no doubt in Eskel’s mind that the child is mentally stronger than most people on the Continent - after what she’s seen, after what she’s been through, Eskel can only admire how resilient Ciri is in the face of tragedy. The Lion Cub of Cintra, the Wolf Pup of Kaer Morhen…
Eskel lets Ciri stand on his feet, barely feeling her weight. She’s holding onto his right hand and wraps her left arm around his waist for balance. Eskel’s left hand is pressed against Ciri’s back, supporting her as she gets into position.
“Now you move around the room. It’s very simple. Two steps to the left, then two steps to the right.”
Eskel follows Ciri’s instructions, letting her take the lead and guide him through the steps. It’s a moment which will remain branded in Eskel’s memory for many years to come and which will keep him warm on the cold nights spent out on the Path. Ciri wormed her way into Eskel’s heart easily, effortlessly, and if Eskel never understood the bond between parent and child before, he does now. To an extent, obviously. Ciri isn’t his daughter, but Geralt’s. But she’s collectively their wolf cub, and Eskel will rather die than let anything happen to her.
But enough of that now, he tells himself as he focuses on enjoying this tender moment. How often will he get the opportunity to dance with a princess, anyway?
Ciri during her "terrible twos". And it's either hilarious, exhausting, or frustrating when a two year old develops enough brain power and muscle strength to act out and annoy her parents, and extended family.
Hsgejshskwgowgwiw
I just wanna say that she can and will bite Lambert at any chance she can get. It’s his fault, really. He was the first to encourage the behavior so now the behavior comes to bite him right back, literally.
Poor Jaskier and Geralt try everything to get her to at least calm down the slightest bit but she’s running circles around them and Jaskier’s got so much work to do and Geralt needs to GET to work. That’s when Vesemir decides that these poor boys need a break and once every month he’ll take her out of their hands and they’ll go to either the ranch, cabins, or even Eskel’s little farm for a week. Just enough time for them to catch their breath.
Poor Eskel is so fucking patient. It’s probably because he did do babysitting in high school for a while. Just to save up money, but he was pretty good with kids so Ciri screaming, lashing out, yelling, and being an absolute menace in general wasn’t that bad in his eyes. He just kinda wished he had child proofed the house and barn before any of it. Luckily for him though, she can read a room and if she sees that it’s not a good time to be the little monster she was always ment to be inside, well, then, she’ll just take her business outside. So, thankfully, guests are safe.
Vesemir’s, who has dealt with Lambert’s rebellious ways since he adopted the kid, first reaction to it was to condone it. It’s not that he’s ignoring the fact that she could be trying to communicate if she’s angry or something. It’s more so to get her to see that he’s calm in this situation so she can be too. Geralt called the method stupid until he literally watched her try to throw something, see Vesemir walk into the room, sit directly across from her on the floor and ask her in the calmest voice what was wrong and she just kinda paused and looked at him for a moment before gently putting the glass down so she could go hug him.
Geralt’s like, “Wh??? H??? Uh????” And Vesemir’s just holding a now sleeping Ciri and just shrugs like, “You learn things when you have three sons that act like human shaped puppies all the time.”
A/N: We are using Geralt’s daughter in this with some Uncle Eskel because I love him okay. Also this idea came from an amazing conversation I had with @thatfluffybabyduck. It’s all their idea tbh. We’ve had so many talks about what if the witchers had dragons that they were like bonded to for life. After they’ve completed the trials, they get a dragon. I’m hoping to mess with this idea more later on but for now, I just wanted to give it as background info because Lana has a little baby dragon.
Note: I redid my entire taglist so everyone who was previously on it has been removed but if you’d like to be put back on the taglist go to this link here. Requests are open!
Word Count: 1.8k
Warnings: none
Summary: Uncle Eskel is the one chosen to take his little niece on a journey to the dungeons....
***
Lana shuffled into Eskel’s room, knowing he never fully shut his door at night. She went to his bedside and shook the witcher’s shoulders.
“Uncle Eskel? Uncle Eskel, come on!” She whispered loudly, little fingers grabbing at the material of his shirt.
He had heard her little boots against the stone steps, heard her grunt in displeasure at all of the stairs she had to travel up just to get to his room. The witcher had plenty of time to briefly open his eyes and look out of the window across the room from him. The sky was still dark and the moon wasn’t visible. From his position, it became visible just a little after midnight.
With a heavy sigh, he rolled over, hoping Lana would continue up the stairs to Lambert’s room and wake him up instead. Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side.
“Uncle Eskel!”
“What?” He mumbled,
“I need your help with something.”
Fuck. Eskel turned over onto his back and ran a hand over his face.
“What is it, sweetheart?”
“I wanna go for a walk.”
Eskel’s eyes widened and he turned his head to look at his niece.
“You what?”
She smiled innocently at him, holding her favorite little doll that Lambert had given her for her birthday last year.
“It’s too late to go to the dungeons right now, Lana. Why do you want to go down there anyways?” He propped himself up on one elbow to get a better look at her.
“‘Cause we’re bored and we wanna go for a walk.”
Eskel looked down to her feet. Sitting beside her was her little gray dragon, Ander. He was a tiny thing, the runt of his litter. His feet, the tips of his ears, and his nose were darker than the rest of him, a coal black color opposed to the smoky gray. His eyes were a piercing gold.
Eskel sighed, shaking his head.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. It’s too late. You should be sleeping, both of you.”
“Uncle Eskel, if you don’t come help me, I’m gonna start crying.” Her bottom lip popped out as she pouted and her brows drew together softly.
“Honey, that won’t work on me anymore. Worked when you were a toddler but you’re six, almost seven.”
On cue, she began to cry, bringing her hands up to cover her eyes. Ander nudged her leg with his nose, concerned about her.
Eskel seriously didn’t think the fake crying would work on him anymore. She hadn’t done it in a few years but when she was a toddler, she was a skilled fake cryer. She knew how to get her uncle to do whatever she wanted.
“Okay! Okay!” Eskel grumbled, pushing the blankets back so he could get out of bed.
“Yay! Thank you, Uncle Eskel.” Lana threw herself at him, her little arms wrapping as best as they could around his torso. Then she grabbed his hand and tried to pull him out of bed. “Let’s go to the dungeons.”
“The what?”
“The dungeons!” She giggled.
He opened his mouth to object but at the last moment, he decided against it. She’d only start crying again and he didn’t want that.
“Let me get my boots on.”
Lana clapped her hands together and rubbed Ander’s head.
The second he had his boots on, she was grabbing his hand and tugging him towards the door.
“Come on! Let’s go, Uncle Eskel!”
Eskel couldn’t help but feel a little creeped out that she’d want to go to the dungeons this late at night. What normal child would want to go somewhere dark and cold and so sketchy? But then again, Lana was her father’s daughter. This little girl had no fear.
***
Once they made it down to the dungeons, Eskel almost regretted not grabbing his swords. Who knew what kind of things lurked in the dark dungeons? No one had been down there in years.
Their footsteps echoed through the long corridor, scaring away the mice that called the dungeon home.
Lana’s hand let his go and she ran ahead of him, disappearing just out of sight. Ander followed closely behind her, struggling to keep up with his little legs.
Eskel was perplexed. How could she see so well when his eyes- witcher eyes -struggled to see more than a dozen feet or so ahead? Without any potion, he couldn’t see far.
“Lana?” He called out for her, staying still so that he could listen for her footsteps. “Lana?”
There was a little giggle, one that he would usually find adorable but in the dark, it was unnerving.
I knew this would happen. I knew it! Why couldn’t she bring Lambert? Part of Eskel was comforted knowing that she came to him. Lambert would’ve gladly accepted anything the girl threw at him. He’d encourage her to explore the dungeons.
The sound of a rickety door to one of the chambers came from the dark. It shut with an echoing noise. He could hear her heartbeat. She was okay.
“I can hear you. Where are you, sweetheart?”
“I’m stuck.” She muttered.
“Stuck?” Eskel drew his brows together. “Stuck where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Okay. I’m…. I’ll come to you.” He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck.
He moved through the corridor, following her steady breathing and beating heart.
He found her inside of a chamber with the door shut. Her head rested against two bars and her hands held either one. Her eyes were cast down to the ground. She huffed.
“You okay?”
“M’fine. The door won’t budge.”
“Of course it won’t. Is Ander in there with you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see anything.”
“This is why we don’t come down here during the night.” Eskel shook his head. Why hadn’t he brought a torch?
He tried to pull the door open but he had no luck. It was jammed.
The sound of heavy footsteps caught his attention. He turned his head in the direction of the footsteps.
“Someone’s coming.” He thought out loud.
“Who?”
“Geralt and Vesemir.” Eskel sighed happily. They’d be able to help get Lana out and then he could go back to bed. Geralt could take care of his adventurous daughter.
“Daddy!” Lana squealed delightfully.
“What the hell are you two doing down here?” Vesemir asked. He carried a torch, lighting the way.
Eskel pointed to Lana.
“It was her idea.”
“Papa, I’m stuck!” She frowned.
“Well, how did you get stuck?”
“I walked in and I shut the door cause I thought it would be funny to scare Uncle Eskel.”
Vesemir barked out a laugh, his hand coming up to his stomach.
“Of course. Good night, boys. I’m going back to bed.” He shook his head, still laughing.
“Wait! Vesemir! She needs to get out!” Eskel said.
“You’ve got Geralt to help you.”
His howls of laughter echoed through the corridor.
Geralt sighed through his nose, bringing his eyes to Eskel.
“I had no choice.”
“Daddy! Get me out!” She pulled on the bars dramatically.
“Stand back, little dove.”
It took both Geralt and Eskel to get the door moving. When Lana was finally free, she bounded out of the chamber and wrapped her arms around Geralt’s legs.
Eskel turned and walked away, rubbing his face.
“Where are you going?” Geralt asked as he picked Lana up.
“It is your turn to keep her occupied. I’m going to bed.”
Geralt sighed, following just behind Eskel.
“We need to have a little chat.” He told Lana. She giggled, knowing she would get into trouble but she had fun doing it.
“Daddy, I was bored.”
“It’s well past midnight. The sun will be coming up anytime soon. You need to sleep.” He began to climb the staircase.
“We were having fun! I wanted to show Ander around the castle! It was fun!” She grinned brightly.
“.... Where is Ander?”
Lana’s grin fell and she looked over Geralt’s shoulder back down the stairs.
“Uh-oh.”
With another sigh and a few curse words muttered under his breath, he turns and starts down the stairs again. He placed Lana on her feet with the intention of holding her hand while they searched for Ander but Lana had a better idea.
“I’ll find him, daddy!” She took off down the corridor, escaping into the dark.
“Fuck.” He threw his hands into the air.
He jogged behind her, not wanting to let her too far out of his sight.
She found Ander rummaging through a pile of rocks.
“Silly Ander!” She giggled, kneeling down to rub his back. She squealed as Geralt snatched her up, holding her to his hip. He used his other hand to pick up Ander.
He toted the two all the way upstairs and then up to their bedroom.
Ander was placed in the bed next to Lana, who yawned as if she was sleepy.
Geralt stayed right there at her bedside, waiting patiently for the two to fall asleep before he went to his room.
When he was sure they were sleeping, he went just down the hall to his own room. He settled into bed, comfortable beneath the blankets, and closed his eyes. It felt like only seconds later that someone is tugging at his blankets.
“Daddy? Daddy, wake up.
He groaned, opening his eyes to see Lana standing there.
“You really should get more sleep, little dove.”
“But it’s noon, daddy!”
Geralt closed his eyes and rolled over in the bed, adamant on sleeping just a little longer.
“Daaadddy!”
“Go find Lambert.” Geralt suggested.
“Okay! Come on, Ander!”
***
Lana ran through the halls, calling out for Lambert.
He was sitting at a table with Eskel, discussing little things that needed to be done around the keep. Lambert stopped mid sentence, hearing someone call his name.
“Laaaaambeeeert!”
“Fuck.” He cursed, standing to his feet. “I was hoping she was still sleeping.”
“I don’t think she sleeps.” Eskel shook his head, taking a sip of his tea.
“Fuck!”
Eskel chuckled as he watched Lambert dart across the room to a door that would take him out to the courtyard. Just a few moments later, Lana came into the room, searching for the young witcher.
“Uncle Eskel!” She climbed up onto a chair.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Morning.” She brushed her messy hair out of her eyes. “Have you seen Uncle Lambert anywhere?”
“Went that way just a minute ago.” Eskel nodded in the direction of the door Lambert went through.
“Thank you! Come on, Ander!”
The wolf watched the little girl and her dragon run out of the room. He was happy that he wasn’t the one she was chasing, that he’d get a few moments of peace.
"Where's your little princess?' Lambert gruffs, kicking the back of Geralt's chair as the older witcher skims the beastiery in his lap.
The twice grassed wolf growls at him, swiping at his legs. Lambert jumps back, cackling, throwing himself into the recliner near the elder wolf.
"Boys." Vesemir warns from his desk, looking through the scroll in his hands. He doesnt look up, but his eyes track both of them like a hawk.
"I dont know, should still be with Eskel and the livestock." Geralt says, his voice deep as ever as the door opens behind them.
"Not with me." Geralt looks over his shoulder at the eldest of the three. It's only been a few days since Eskel got the clearing from Vesemir that he could start to help out with the chores of the keep. It's only been a week since the oldest wolf let him up out of bed, the majority of his body still covered in thick bandages after the leshy mutation the day he, Geralt and Ciri had made it up the mountain. Eskel still walks with a limp, favouring his right leg over the left, while the left shoulder was still immobilised by a sling. It's a miracle he's even alive let alone walking the keep, and it's all the four wolves can hope for, given the extremely likely demise of the eldest of the three had it not been for the magical little Princess that Geralt had found in the sodden woods.
"No?" Geralt asks, feeling that tightening in his gut that he always did whenever his daughter of surprise was out of his sight. He swallows it down, fights it back. There's far more reasons Ciri could not be accounted for that weren't any of the reasons his mind tended to spiral into.
"We finished feeding the livestock an hour ago, haven't seen her since she put the buckets away." Eskel gingerly sets himself down on another chair, using his less fucked up arm to pull his legs up onto the rests that sit in front of the fire.
"You three need to focus more on your hearing." Vesemir cuts through the mounting anxiety his three sons slowly build in the room, and they all look at him in unison. Vesemir cracks a smile in the symmetry, and points to the window. "She's with Coën outside."
Intrigued, Geralt slowly gets up and walks to the window, feeling Lambert come up behind him.
Indeed, Cirilla is outside with Coën. But instead of training or swordsplay like Geralt had expected, he is surprised to see a frozen pond brushed clear of the several inches of snow, Coën standing guard on the makeshift bank, and Cirilla gleefully gliding along the frozen pond in old rickety skates.
"Woah!" Lambert comments, watching as she girl pushed both her arms back, pushed one leg, launched off with another, before ticking both arms in, leaping into the air and spinning three times, before landing with another rotation. Both arms extend outwards as she perfects the land, and Coën cheers for her as she smiles brightly at him.
"How did she do that?"
"She said something about Skèlege, said she had people there. She probably spent time there with Mouseack, they probably taught her to skate." Geralt responds, feeling a sense of pride as she skates around for another few seconds, before turning around and completing a complete backflip. He cracks a small smile, pride tugging at his chest as he watches the girl who has been through untold horrors experience a few moments of pure joy. Melitele knows she's earned it.
She's a marvellously good skater, he notes, pulling put similar jumps and spins that look simultaneously different and rather similar. She seems to defy the laws of gravity as she bends her knees, pushes them outwards and leans back until her hair skims the ice, before transitioning up into a deep back bridge, all the while skating around the pond.
"Nicely done." Lambert comments as she lands a backflip on one foot.
"We'll give them until dinner out there, she's having fun." Geralt turns from the window back to his chair.
"That balance'll help her well on the pendulum." Eskel comments, and Geralt hums in response.
"That girl is certainly more than you bargained for." Vesemir says. "Getting a magical, foresight seeing, ice skating and a concerningly fast learner with a blade out of the law of surprise? Got to be a first, son."
