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open--till--midnight · 1 month ago

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My Time at Corvo Bianco

eskel x f!reader

summary | while visiting geralt at his home in toussaint, eskel meets a dyer from the port who agrees to dye his favorite jacket, and he begins questioning everything

wc | 4.2k

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“Wolf!”

“Eskel, took you long enough!”

Eskel passed the archway into Corvo Bianco, dismounted, pulled Geralt into a tight hug, and patted him on the back when he pulled away.

“So many contracts in Toussaint, hard to turn down the coin.”

Geralt led Eskel and Scorpion to the stables, where a hand took over from there.

“I know that all too well.”

“Not anymore though?”

“Seems not. I take a few here and there, but I don’t have much reason to. I’ve got a home, a wife, and mostly, I don’t even miss the path.”

“Seems to have all worked out in the end for you?”

“It’ll happen for you too, Eskel, if you let it. Witchers are a dying people, no use in continuing after some point.”

“I doubt it, my place is on the path. But I’m glad things have been working out for you.” Eskel was sincere in everything he said, he was happy for his brother.

“Don’t let your doubts keep you from happiness, I was there, but it turns out retirement is a welcome change from the constant abuse.”

Eskel chuckled and let Geralt open his home’s door, leading into a cozy open room with a dining table in the middle where the two sat down.

From midday to well into the night, they talked. Last they spoke was at the battle of Kaer Morhen, and those were certainly not good memories.

The drinks kept conversation light, though, and laughter could be heard from outside the home’s walls.

The night ended with Geralt showing Eskel up the stairs to his guest room, where he would be staying for the foreseeable future. Eskel needed rest, and here he would get it.

He set his pack down on the bedside table, rummaging through it for his journal. He’d taken to writing after the battle to deal with the loss of his mentor and he continued since then. Most of what he wrote was mundane and meaningless, but it brought him a sense of familiarity. A sense of normalcy.

He wrote by candlelight until his eyes grew heavy and he settled for the night where he got the first night of real rest he’d had in years. A roof over his head and a bed beneath him without the compromise of loud noise in a tavern or inn. The silence was welcome.

Eskel woke to a rooster crow and a bright ray of light over his tired form. He lay on his back for a few moments, taking everything in, already starting to understand the appeal of retirement. The smell of breakfast cooking coaxed him downstairs where he found Geralt in the kitchen.

“Finally learned to cook then?”

“I always knew how to cook.”

“That’s news to me.” Eskel took a seat. “Where’s Yennefer?”

“On a trip, she needed the cooler weather for a change. She’ll be back within the week. She’s happy here, guess you could say we’re both retired now.”

“Never thought you’d say that, did you?”

“Can’t say that I would have.”

The two ate in comfortable silence, a change from the other meals he shared with strangers in crowded taverns. The food was also remarkably different. No taste of the previous day's meal left lingering from the pan in the next day's food and fresh ingredients made more of a difference than he’d thought.

While walking around the grounds, Eskel changed the subject of conversation by asking Geralt to show him around Beauclair. He agreed and they readied their horses.

“Any armorers you like in the city? My jacket is in need of some care.” Eskel laughed.

“Absolutely, there’s one who helps me with crafting some old witcher gear we’ve found diagrams for. He’s the best I've come across.”

When they reached the armorer Eskel shucked off his jacket and handed it over. It had been needing repair for far too long, and wouldn’t do much to protect against a serious attack anymore. Jacket in hand, the man looked the armor over, giving his estimate on coin and time. A steep price, but you got what you paid for in Beauclair.

Geralt and Eskel headed over to the nearest tavern for a drink while they waited.

“I could get used to this, Geralt. I don’t think I could ever stop taking contracts fully, but you know, a place to call home, to go back to every night.”

“Not gonna say I told you so, but the life does get a hold of you. Turns out comfort is incredibly important to happiness.”

“I think I’m starting to agree with you there.”

When the time to head back to the armorer came, Eskel walked there with racing thoughts.

When they entered the shop, the armorer greeted them, “Just in time!” He set the jacket on the counter and looked up at Eskel, “This was red, right? It looks a bit faded. I’d say if you’re interested, in the Beauclair port there's a group of people who’ll dye clothes for a fair price. If you care about that sort of thing I think it's worth it.”

Eskel thanked the man, paid and then the pair then headed out.

“How do you feel about that? I know where he’s talking about, I know one of the women who works there, I could take you.”

After he agreed, the two mounted their horses and headed up to the port, taking in the sights in silence. This part of town was busier than the rest it seemed. People were coming and going, and merchants were trying their hardest to get potential customers' attention.

When they arrived, Eskel gawked at all the colors. He’d thought he’d seen it all when he entered Toussaint, colored clothes were a common thing here, but to see all the concentrated colors was almost breathtaking. But his thoughts stopped in their tracks when you walked up to them.

“Welcome back, Geralt! You’ve brought company?” Your demeanor was always light and airy, like a lone cloud in a clear sky. The yellow smock that you wore was splashed with other colors and more so when you wiped your stained hands down it. “I would hug you, but I’m afraid I would just ruin your clothing. Gotta keep your image even if you’re retired. Or whatever you’re calling it now.”

“Appreciated. This is Eskel, I grew up with him back at Kaer Morhen.” Geralt introduced you to him, though it was hard to tell what was actually sticking. Eskel seemed to be stuck in place. At least heard your name, and he repeated it back to you, nodding his head.

“I’ve heard of you, Eskel. From this one here.” You gestured at Geralt. “Though I admit I’m curious to find out if everything he’s said is true.”

“You’ll be pleased to know that it’s all true.” Geralt defended himself and glanced over to Eskel who seemed, well, it was impossible to read the expression on his face. It was true to Eskel’s character to be hesitant, shy even, around those he did not know, but this seemed different to Geralt. Because of their history, he knew there was something more to this reaction.

“I have trust that he would not lie, but Geralt tends to exaggerate details. To my disliking.” Eskel finally spoke and his lip even twitched in a way that was almost the beginning of a smile.

“My friend here needs his jacket dyed. The bloodiest shade of red you have, preferably.”

Eskel scoffed and removed said jacket. There was still a strange air about him to Geralt’s eye, but he could dig into that later.

“It would be a pleasure. Any friend of Geralt’s is a friend of mine. In any way, I do need to get back to work, but I promise your jacket will be done in a few days. And Geralt, you and your friend are always invited into my home, please take me up on that. And sooner than later, too. Goodbye!” You turned, jacket in hand, and headed back to work.

The witchers eventually wandered back to Corvo Bianco where they sat at the table and poured themselves wine. Eskel still seemed off to Geralt, and after a short amount of small talk, he asked his question.

“Is everything ok? The idea of retirement shaking you that much?” Geralt knew something was off, but now it was time to decipher what it was from Eskel’s clues.

“It’s appealing, to be sure, but I don’t think it’s shaking me that much?” Though it wasn’t a question, it sounded as if he was asking. He sipped from his glass and put his hand flat on the table, as if to stabilize himself.

“Then what is?” After taking a drink of wine Geralt whispered your name, “It’s her isn’t it?”

Eskel did not speak. But the way his splayed hand twitched, it seemed as though Geralt was right on the mark.

“She’s a good one, brother. Get to know her, stay in Toussaint a while longer. Who knows what will happen.”

“Be realistic. That is not my destiny.” What Eskel meant to say was, I don’t deserve that kind of life. I am doomed to live out a witcher’s end alone.

“Be a man and say what you’re actually thinking, Eskel.” Geralt pulled no punches, but when his brother did not speak, he continued. “You think too low of yourself. If that is something that you want, only you can make that happen. You don’t have to follow orders or the witcher code anymore, forge your own path.”

Eskel’s brows were furrowed as he gazed into his glass. What Geralt spoke was true and they both knew it.

“If I were to stay here I wouldn’t know what to do with myself.”

Geralt said your name again. “Go for it. Whatever you’re worried about, that won't matter to her. Don’t tell her I said this, but you and her are just about two of the loneliest people I’ve ever met. Forge your own path. You’ll retrieve your jacket alone and I’m counting on you to take that first step.”

When he went to bed, Eskel laid awake staring at the ceiling. As the shadows danced on the walls, he pictured you. He pictured Toussaint and its heart, Beauclair. He pictured the life he could make here. Certainly not as well off as Geralt, but enough to settle down and calm his being. He fell into a deep meditation with a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

The next two days came and went in the blink of an eye. Geralt showed Eskel everything that he could in that short amount of time, but it was enough. The third day of his visit, Eskel found himself at the port and eyed you from afar.

You were busy laughing with other women, hands dipping in and out of the dyes staining both them and the cloth you held at once. Whatever confidence he had mustered had vanished the moment he saw you. But you had his beloved jacket and he would have to get it one way or another. So down the steps he went and when a woman asked his business, he asked for you by name.

“Eskel.” You smiled as you made your way toward him with a colorful wave. “You came just in time, your jacket has finished drying. This way, please.”

He followed without question into a nearby building where he saw his jacket hanging looking brighter than he’d gotten it. The color a deep concentrated red that popped against the dark black of the leather.

“I hope it’s to your liking, it's the ‘bloodiest shade’ I could make.” You quoted with your fingers, mocking the absent Geralt’s request from a few days past.

“It’s perfect.” Eskel’s eyes flitted from his jacket to you a few times before settling on your eyes. He found himself lost in them for a moment as he tried to memorize their color. When he reached for payment, you pushed his hand away.

“Like I said the other day, any friend of Geralt’s is a friend of mine. I never let him pay either. He’s done me more kindnesses than any other, I trust he chooses his friends wisely. So no payments, please and thank you.”

Your smile shined even in the dark of the room and it made his slow heart skip a beat.

“I do have a lot of work to do today, I apologize, but I should be going now.”

He had to act now before he no longer had an excuse to speak with you.

“Just a moment.” He called out as you turned the door handle. “Please.”

You asked him why with your eyes. As concisely as he could, he invited you to dinner at Corvo Bianco with him and Geralt the next day. You happily agreed. It seemed as though Geralt’s observation was right. His offer seemed to brighten your entire world as if you were the loneliest person in it.

As he walked back to his horse, newly dyed jacket on, Eskel was afraid he did not make his intentions clear enough. He should have asked you to dinner, one on one. Though he had no idea how he would have done that.

It was past dark by the time he reached the gates to Corvo Bianco and he stabled his horse before making his way into Geralt’s home, who was there to greet him.

“How did it go?” He asked with an air of mischief.

“She’s coming to dinner tomorrow.”

“Why so glum, then?” Geralt noticed it in the way Eskel spoke and carried himself through the door.

“I don’t have a good feeling about this. What if I’m getting my hopes up too much? I can’t help but feel like I’m falling for her already.”

“Then let it happen. Worst case is that she says no, but trust she will not be cruel about it, I know her better than that.” Geralt took in the expression on his brother’s face and backtracked. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble with that though. I saw the way she eyed you.”

“How?”

“I’ve spent quite a lot of time with her, I understand her without words being spoken. And just like you’re my brother, I consider her my sister.”

Eskel had nothing left to say. What he needed to do now was stew on the events of the past few days. Interaction and conversation with you and words spoken with Geralt. So he once again laid in his borrowed bed and thought. Would it be so bad? To talk to her and take the risk? I’m not even sure what my feelings would be toward her once I got to know her. All I know is that I want to. I need to. And what would retirement look like for me? Could I do it?

There was no rest for the witcher that night and the following morning he was so full of nerves that Geralt had to reassure him once more. He felt a wreck. Toussaint was supposed to be a break like all those winters at Kaer Morhen. So far it had turned out to have quite the opposite effect. He could run, like he tended to, starting all the way back with his child surprise. Or he could take his life into his own hands and deal with everything happening to him. For the first time, he chose the latter.

Yennefer came home late in the morning and greeted him politely. She’d never interacted much with Eskel and her indifferent demeanor made it hard for him to believe that she even wanted to. But she did try. During lunch she had divulged that Geralt had told her much of the happenings over the past few days, to Eskel’s embarrassment. And in an effort that he found out of character, Yennefer gave the same sentiments as Geralt had. She told him that she knew you as well as her husband did and that you would make a fine match with him.

Other than wanting to shrivel up during the entire meal, lunch went as well as he could have expected. Dinner might be a different story entirely. B.B., as Geralt so endearingly called Barnabas-Basil, would be preparing dinner. If Eskel was going to impress you, he would stay away from the kitchen. On the path he could make food as good as any witcher, but over a campfire is just about where his skills ended. But B.B. would make a fine meal.

Eskel had to admit he was more than nervous. Somehow he felt it would be so much easier if it would be a one on one dinner, but Geralt, and now Yennefer, would both be included. As long as he was himself it would go well enough. He was betting on that.

Eskel chose to wander the grounds to kill time before your arrival. The gardens were especially nice in the weather which was sunny with a few clouds that offered the occasional relief from the scorching sun.

As the sun followed its natural path downward toward the west, Eskel saw you seated upon a horse, borrowed, he assumed, city dwellers had no need for personal horses. The sun hit your face in a most wonderful way and though you seemed awkward from your place on the horse, you had an air of confidence that captured him immediately.

“Eskel!” You called and beamed once you spotted him. After letting a stable hand take the horse, you made your way to Eskel, who nodded at your call.

When you got to him it seemed neither of you knew what to do or say. So you stood there like fools before Geralt opened the door to his home and let out a yell to beckon you both. After a look that said that’s our Geralt was exchanged, you made it up the stairs and into the main room where a feast of a dinner was sat on the table.

The five of you took your places at the table. B.B., who was always invited to the table, was seated at its head, Geralt across from Yennefer, and Eskel across from you. Geralt was the first to dig in. In front of you laid a sizeable salmon, crusted and seared, enough salad with berries and nuts for everyone to share, an intricate loaf of bread from Beauclair and a seasoned oil to dip it in, as well as a plate of roasted vegetables and glasses of wine for each attendant. To you and Eskel both it was more food than you’d seen at once likely in your entire lives. Eskel was used to whatever scraps he could find on the path, and before that, whatever Vesemir had prepared for the young boys at Kaer Morhen. As for you, you were used to eating whatever your fellow dyers had prepared, usually modest amounts of protein and bread for each meal. This was a new experience welcomed by you both.

Geralt led conversation in the first half of the meal, occasionally joined by Yennefer adding on to the stories she’d likely heard more times than she could count on both hands. You sat quietly for a while, drinking in the comfort of a meal shared with friends, old and new. Every so often you would sneak a glimpse of the man in front of you, noting every last detail of his being. The way that his hair framed his face and the scars that lay on the left side of it. You committed his demeanor to memory. His shoulders hunched slightly, enough that you figured he was trying to make himself as small as possible, a feat he could never accomplish. The manner in which he dealt with his food you noticed as well. He would pick at his plate with his fork before carefully choosing what went on his fork. You would have assumed he was disinterested in the meal and his company if it weren’t for the way he would glance around with inquisitive eyes. Eyes that hovered over you longer than anyone else.

To Eskel, the staring made him uneasy. There was no way to know what was going on in that pretty head of yours, but the way you eyed him made him think the worst. He naively hoped that the dim candle light would soften his features, but he knew that only really deepened the lines of his scars. But there was something about the way your gaze lingered that soothed him as well. The smirk that he would get from you when he caught you staring more than once gave him reassurance that you were not frightened by the sight of him. Regardless of what he thought was going on inside your mind, he was more sure than ever that he was falling for you. The shadows that enhanced your features drew him in and by the time dinner was done he was sure the reason Geralt said he was headed to bed early was because of the way you were staring at each other.

As B.B. cleaned up, Geralt announced that he and Yennefer were going to retire to their bed for the evening. This left you and Eskel alone, still seated across from each other at the table. He rubbed at his cheek for a moment before he realized what he was doing while you picked at the hem of your shirt.

“Do you want to go outside with me? The stars are especially beautiful on nights without clouds.” You asked him with wide eyes and a nervous smile.

Eskel stood before agreeing and boldly helped you from the table with an outstretched hand that you readily took. He only let go to open the door for you. From there you took the lead, guiding him to a bench at the side of the house.

When you both were seated, you laughed under your breath to which Eskel gave you a questioning look.

“We barely got to speak together at all with all of Geralt’s talking. But I’d like to now, if that’s alright with you?”

“I would like that as well.” Eskel’s voice was unsure, and he was certain you could tell. He was also certain that he was blowing any chance of getting to know you out the window if he kept up talking like this. Rehearsed and mechanical.

“Am I bothering you?” It was an honest question.

“NO.” Eskel’s eyes widened. “I mean… I.” He was lost for words, but you had the situation under control.

“I talk with a lot of people in my profession. But I don’t often get the chance to get to know them. Much less dine with them. I know Geralt and Yennefer, they’ve done more for me than I could ever pay them back for so I don’t discount them, but I don’t have anybody else. I’m sure this resonates with you?”

“It does, actually. I grew up with Geralt and Lambert under Vesemir’s guidance. I consider them family, but most of the time I’m not with them. I came here to visit with Geralt. To relax. But so far I’ve gotten quite the opposite.” He realized he’d said too much.

“What do you mean by that? Do you not like it here?”

“I like it plenty. Too much, in fact, that’s the problem. Geralt keeps telling me how great retirement is, and I can see that. The only thing is that the life of a witcher is all I’ve ever known. I’ve never consorted with witches or warlocks, nor dirtied my hands with politics. I know what I do and that’s what I do best. As appealing as it sounds, I could never quit the path nor would I want to.”

“You don’t have to, not completely. Geralt told me of all the winters he spent at Kaer Morhen. You can still take contracts, gods know there are plenty in Toussaint. But you could take time off. Build a cottage, or steal one. There’s many left abandoned in the countryside.” You laughed. “I’m not trying to convince you of anything, but I do see how happy Geralt is now versus how he was when I met him. There’s more, though, to your plight. Am I right?”

Eskel eyed you hesitantly. It was like he was weighing very heavy options in his mind.

“There is. Though I’m not sure you want to hear it.”

“Try me.”

“I’m a simple witcher, as I’ve described. Geralt found Yennefer many years ago and that was not simple. I’ve never had my eye on anyone, and the opposite goes as well.” He sighed as if he was already regretting what he was about to say. “But then I saw you at the docks covered in dye.”

There was a twinkle in your eye as Eskel continued.

“You’ve captured me and I want to know you.”

You reached over to Eskels hand which was laying on his thigh, yours was shaky against his, but still you grasped it. He did not back away or flinch at your touch, but took his other hand to rest upon yours.

“I’d like to know you too, Eskel.”

He smiled for the first time in front of you. Before, he was too filled with nerves and he knew that when he smiled his scars pulled on his lip in an unsightly way. But you seemed to not mind that.

“I like it when you smile.” You said sweetly, you surely did not mind.

#eskel x reader #lilywrites📝

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