The Curses That Bind Us- Part 6
A/N: Good Gods, has it really been 2 months already??? My bad! I'm happy to have this (admittedly lightly edited) chapter out though! Only one more left and maybe an epilogue which I'm determined to get done THIS MONTH.
Pairing: Eskel x Reader
Words: 1512
Summary: You and Eskel discuss where you go from here and Eskel makes an urgent visit to the Witch who cursed you in an effort to solve this once and for all.
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Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4| Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 (final)
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Your breath came out shallow, but steady as you laid back against the bedrolls. Eskel had insisted that you take his as well, and you were far too tired to argue. The curse's black tendrils moved their way up your neck now, reaching toward your face with a concerning hunger. From the looks of it you had maybe a few weeks left… or just one more chance at breaking this.
With careful hands Eskel made the most comfortable spot he could for you, making sure you were sat up enough to see him clearly, “I know you’re tired, I know… it’s been a long ride, but you can rest now. I’ll take care of camp, okay?” He assured.
After the failed attempt at freeing yourself from this leech, you had been fading in and out of sleep and struggling to adapt to this new normal. But between Eskel’s rush to get you out of town and the growing Redanian voices, it was hard to find rest. Now, finally, hours out of town and a few hours to the next, Eskel finally felt safe enough to stop and set up camp for the night.
You watched through half-lidded eyes as his hands sparked forth life into the campfire. A comforting warmth bloomed on your skin as the fire fully caught, engulfing the logs. Guilt gnawed at you as you watched him get dinner ready alone, your fingers itched to help fetch water or even just stir something- but the new ache in your bones warned you otherwise.
“Thank you…” you murmured, “for everything-“
“No…” Eskel interrupted, his voice a little harsher than intended as he shook his head. “Don’t thank me for that, I… I’ve only made you feel worse…” he looked down at the pot of dinner, stirring idly. He had failed contracts before- hell, he had failed them without the second chance that he has now- but never before had his stomach twisted with such guilt and worry because of it. He wished he could say he didn’t know why- but he wasn’t stupid.
Between your stubborn, yet compassionate nature and your eyes which shone with glints of burning fire, the witcher knew it was only a matter of time before he began growing all too attached. But now he really was attached- to your smile, to the warm brush of your skin against his as you slept, even to the long bouts of comfortable and easy silence you shared as the sun would finally set on your long days.
“Now, if we’re lucky, we only have one chance left to break this and If we fail…” he dwelled for a moment, but it was your turn to interrupt him now.
“We won’t fail…” You assured him, reaching out with aching knuckles to give his arm a surprisingly strong squeeze, “And this wasn’t your fault, Eskel… I really thought you were right- I really thought it would work…” you sighed as you assured him, “ but I knew this was a risk- the curse warns as much. We’ll just have to think harder about it next time-“
“-Next time?” He interjected, surprised, “You still want to try again…?”
“Of course,” you replied, there was no question in your mind, “I told you I wouldn’t stop, Eskel, not until I take my last breaths….” The camp was quiet for a moment as your declaration hung in the air until the Witcher nodded slowly.
“Okay…” he said, a faint smile about him as he rested his hand over yours, “next time we’ll think harder, next time we’ll be more careful…”
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It was early in the morning when Eskel left. Leaving behind a quick note and a bit of breakfast for you, he made his way toward the Witch’s cottage. It was a hard decision to leave you behind, but with the way the curse had progressed in the last few hours, the last thing he wanted to do was stress you out more or make you lose sleep.
Protective sigils scattered around the camp, taught to him by various sorceresses over the years, were the only things that gave him peace of mind as he rode off to run what would hopefully just be a quick errand.
The journey was short by witcher standards, and soon the outskirts of the next town was coming into view. He wandered somewhat aimlessly, your directions having been rather vague from wandering upon it yourself, though soon enough a run-down-looking cottage came into view. Set up on a small hill there was nothing special looking about the small house- it looked much like any other; thatched roof, a few basic flowers painted around the doorway, and a few bundles of dried herbs hanging in the shaded window. What did stand out, however, was the vibrant garden positioned right beside it. There stood the most lush flowers he’d ever seen, still gleaming with morning dew despite the midday sun overhead. A few vibrant red apples hung from the nearby tree, and bright red, orange, and green vegetables dangled from their stems and called out to be eaten.
He’d never seen something more obviously enchanted- though for what purpose he couldn’t exactly say. But with the all too perfect garden, and the constant- yet gentle- hum of his medallion, he had no doubts about it.
Though as he craned his neck to look more, he did have to admit- for someone unknowing, desperate, or hungry enough, he’s sure the thought of an enchanted garden would probably never even occur.
He took slow, yet sure steps as he approached the door, eyes scanning his surroundings as he approached in his most non-threatening manner. ‘Nothing more than a snake and a few birds,’ he noted, ‘pretty bare.’ He knocked heavily on the wooden door as he stepped up, trying what he could to stay in the good graces of this woman he rather desperately needed help from.
But no one answered, not even a rustle of fabric or a creaking floorboard to prove anyone was home.
But Eskel wasn’t going to turn around now, and he was not above a little humility. So holding his hands up, away from his swords as he moved around, “I’ve heard you’re the Village Witch…” Eskel called out into the open area, footsteps carrying him to each window to peek inside, “I’ve come to ask for your help,” He peered inside, seeing nothing but a pair of worn shoes by the door and an unmade bed. “There is a curse I cannot seem to break and I’ve been told that this is something you have… a profound amount of skill in…” he spoke truthfully, “I am at my wit's end and I am running out of time….”
Still, silence rang around him, only the rustling of leaves and the slither of the snake through the grass to answer him.
He could feel his medallions hum ebb and flow, as If an invisible stronger magic was coming in and out of range.
She had to be here.
And she had to be nearby….
With no willing answer, Eskel turned to his next tactic. He wandered through her garden, invading her space, until he came beneath the apple tree.
If she would not approach him on kind terms, then maybe he could force her out with unkind terms- but he would not go back empty-handed.
Looking around he grabbed an apple. His medallion hummed just a bit stronger. At least he had her attention. “I just want to talk… I don’t have to do this” he assured, though with the threat of her harvest now at hand.
Still no answer.
So Eskel nodded, his decision resolved for him, as he took a large bite from the apple…
His medallion hummed even stronger, nearly vibrating off his chest now, there was still no response.
The Witcher sighed as he dropped the apple, its form beginning to brown and rot as soon as soon as it hit the ground.
As much as it pained him to admit it, he wasn’t going to find answers here. He’d have to come up with some other way to glean more information, maybe even speak to the townspeople….
His walk was slow as he made his way toward Scorpion, the optimist in him- little as it may be- was still holding out hope that some clue may yet come to him. But it seems such optimism was not well-founded.
As Eskel mounted his horse he once again heard the slither of scales through grass. He raised the reins and turned to leave, Scorpion taking his first few steps before the smallest, venom-laced voice came from the tall grass.
“No, Sssssympathy for an Executioner…”
The voice drew out its words in a telltale hiss, its anger as evident as its forked tongue. The witcher paused, his head just tilted to the side as he considered what he heard, but he did not turn around. He did not need to; Instead, he only fought back a smile as he once again urged Scorpion forward.
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