#two steps forward

    “What have I done?” You cradle your head in your hands, grasping at any thread of control to keep yourself together. Your mind races over all of the different shoulds that you had overlooked - should have kept Eskel at arm’s length, should have parted ways after that hunt, should have not let yourself fall for him all over again, should, should, should…

    You think that you could continue on this path, wallowing in your own mistakes that have changed the course of your life when you hear a sudden knock on your door.

    …

    “What have I done?” Eskel sits where you left him for a few minutes, stunned and achingly hard, but the latter problem ends up sagging into nothingness soon enough. He runs his hands through his hair, mulling over what he could have possibly done to warrant such a visceral reaction from you.

    He climbs to his feet and stumbles over to the stables. Eskel kicks up little puffs of snow with every step, his breath visible as it is pulled by the wind. When he shoulders open the doors he is hit with a comforting warmth from a fire raging in the fireplace. Li’l Bleater bounds over to him, clearly discontent with the fact that it has taken him so long today to come to see her. He typically comes here every morning before dawn, feeding all of the animals, brushing them down, and making sure that everyone will be comfortable until one of them can come let them out later in the day.  

    “Already took care of it, son,” a soft voice calls from one of the stalls before its owner strides out. Vesemir brushes his hands off on his jerkin, Lady following close behind him. Eskel leans against the wall and slides to the ground with a huff, Li’l Bleater clambering into his lap as soon as he is seated.

    “Vesemir, I-I think I’ve really messed up,” Eskel whispers, keeping his eyes trained on the floor. He finds himself idly scratching the fur on Li’l Bleaters’ head as her eyes fall closed, clearly more than happy to keep him trapped here while he figures out his problems. 

    “I noticed the two of you training this morning, seemed like you were really working well together,” Vesemir’s voice is soothing as he runs his hands through Lady’s mane, swiftly untangling the knots and sectioning it to be braided. “Here, come help me.”

    Eskel sighs as he stands, crossing over to your horse. She snorts at him, somehow able to recognize the hurt that pours from him. She still lets him stroke along her nose as he offers an apple, then moves next to Vesemir as he takes some of the mane in his hands. 

    “Tell me what happened.” Vesemir doesn’t look away from Lady as he works, letting Eskel go at his own pace. 

    “Well, we were sparring, working on blocking and parries,”

    “Yes, I saw that,”

    “And then I overpowered her, brought her to the ground. But something shifted, like we weren’t training anymore, we were-I don’t know. But I felt like I just couldn’t pull away from her, no matter how hard I tried.”

    “Mhm, saw that too,” Vesemir hums, Eskel’s gaze snapping over to him. “That’s when I came in here, didn’t want to watch the two of you getting off in the middle of the courtyard.”

    “But that’s just it, we didn’t!” Eskel turns back to his braid, having to move back a few because he lost his place. “She twisted out, bringing us back to the fight. But then, she moved just right, and then she ended up bringing me down, and then when she was holding me there, we-gods, we just went somewhere, like the whole world fell away and all that was left was the two of us.”

    “And then, all of a sudden, she shot off of me, backing away like I was some feral animal.” Eskel’s voice breaks a little bit, but he clears his throat and keeps going, “She ran inside, and I have no idea what I did wrong...maybe I just read this all wrong.”

    …

    “Nah, you’ve got it right.”

    Geralt had shoved his way into your room when you opened the door, inviting himself in and making himself comfortable in the chair by the fireplace. You’d just finished going over the events of this morning, trying to figure out the easiest way to extract yourself back out of the corner that you’ve dug yourself into. 

    “What do you mean? I fucking held him down, and was using him, no more than some common whore.”

    “First of all, you wouldn’t do that to a whore either…”

    “What do you know, Geralt? We haven’t seen each other in three decades, you think you know how I treat the people I take to bed?”

    Geralt grunts, giving you a look, one that calls you on your bullshit without a single word.

    “You clearly care for him, what’s holding you back?”

    You give a breathy laugh, looking at him as if he had suddenly sprouted horns. “What’s holding me back? Hmm, let’s see. I’m essentially cursed-,”

    “Not true, and we’re going to find that son of a bitch,”

    “Witcher’s can’t feel-”

    “Wrong again, have you met Lambert? Fucking angriest prick I’ve ever met.”

    “And there’s no way he could ever feel the same for me. Why should he? I abandoned him, I abandoned everyone, and then, now, all I can think about is running again.”

    “No.” Geralt’s voice booms in your tiny room, startling you a bit when you meet his gaze. The fire in the grate reflects off of his eyes, only adding to the intensity there. You are suddenly struck with how similar he looks to Eskel, their body shapes almost identical and the only major differences between them being their hair and the scar that rakes along Eskel’s cheek. 

    “What do you mean, ‘no?’ I am a grown woman, Geralt, thank you very much, and I will not have you telling me what I can and cannot-”

    “Would you shut up for a moment? I am not trying to tell you what to do, but you really shouldn’t just run away from this...you have an opportunity here, a real opportunity to actually be happy, shouldn’t you take it?”

    …

    “An opportunity? Vesemir, she can’t possibly love me, I mean, look at me.” Eskel has started a second braid, thankful to be able to keep his hands busy. His braids are a bit sloppy compared to Vesemirs, but at least they’re better than what any of the others could do. 

    “Yes, boy, an opportunity. And gods, get over yourself. You think she actually cares about that scar?” Vesemir strokes along Lady’s flank as he speaks, laving her with care under his fingers. 

    “It’s all anyone sees Vesemir, she didn’t even recognize me at first…”

    Vesemir hums, quietly contemplating his next words. “But once she saw who you were, has she actually given you a reason to think that she thinks less of you because of them?” 

    Eskel falls silent, trying to remember if there had ever been a time that you were anything but caring towards him. Vesemir nods, taking his silence as answer enough. 

    “You should tell her. I remember when the three of you were young, how you and Geralt would bicker over her, and then you were the only one who still held a candle for her when you all started on the Path.”

    “‘Held a candle?’ Gods, Vesemir, sometimes I forget just how old you are.” Eskel teases, bringing a soft smile to Vesemir’s face. 

    “Shut it you, I’m just trying to help.”

    …

    “Yeah, well, your advice sucks.”

    You pace around your room, trying to see things from Geralt’s point of view. He keeps saying that it would be worth the risk to expose your long-repressed feelings for Eskel, but you can’t see past the horrifying concept of being known. 

    “Fucking hell, you’ve only grown more stubborn. What could happen, hm? What is so bad that could happen if you told him?”

    “He could push me away, leave me…” you whisper, terrified of that ever happening. 

    “Like how you left him?”

    You stop in your tracks, meeting his eyes from across the room. Your hands clench at your sides, fighting back the tears that begin to well in your eyes. You know he’s right, but you can’t bring yourself to admit that.

    “That’s low, Geralt.”

    “But am I wrong?” He crosses his arms, not backing down as you swallow and break eye contact, moving to the window. You look down at the empty training yard below, a fresh dusting of snow beginning to settle atop it.

    You hear Geralt cross to the door and open it, murmuring as he leaves, “You guys need to figure it out.”

    …

    Later that afternoon, you find yourself pulling open the door to the library. Eskel is perched on one of the windowsills, a thick book open in his hands. He looks up as you enter, something very complicated flying over his features before he turns back to the book. 

    You move to stand closer to him, probably able to touch him if you reached out. “What are you reading?” You ask lightly, hoping that he’ll ignore the way your heart is pounding inside of your chest. 

    “Beastiary, just freshening up. I fought an oddly strong bruxa a few months back, thought I’d see if there were anything in here about what might’ve been different about her.”

    Eskel suddenly slams the book shut, swinging his legs down from the sill to fully face you. You feel horribly vulnerable under his scrutinizing gaze, even though all you can see is confusion and weariness in his eyes. 

    “I just wanted to say-”

    “You know, I think that-”

    You both chuckle lightly, the tension palpable in the room when you both speak. Eskel gestures to you, silently asking you to speak first once more. 

    You take a deep breath and steel your nerves. “I wanted to apologize for earlier.” You hold up a hand as Eskel starts to sputter, clearly some argument coming to his lips. “It was inappropriate for me to take advantage of the situation like that, and I hope that you’ll forgive me.”

    “Forgive? Listen, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me, I just-”

    “Eskel please, I just want to say this one thing.” He sighs and relents, falling quiet as he gently runs his thumb along the spine of the book. You can’t tear your eyes away from it as you speak, each word like a stab in the heart.

    “I think it would be easiest if we both just forgot that it happened. We can move on, still be friends, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if you were cross with me after this.”

    Eskel looks as if he had just been slapped across the face with a fish, mouth agape and confusion written in every line on his skin. 

    “I-well, uh, if that’s what you want, that’s fine, um...” 

    You try to ignore the hurt that plagues his features, and the sorrowful scent that the room adopts and lets seep into the pages of the books tucked in the corners. 

    Instead, you extend your hand, bracing for him to slap it away and scream horrible things in your face. You know better though, Eskel has never been like that. He stews, lets the wrongs done against him sit deep in his belly until all of his anger bubbles over into an outburst of rage.