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Growing up, you idolized the witchers. Despite the fact that the only stories being told were of a degrading nature, you found them to be powerful and brave. They reminded you of the gallant heroes in your favorite books, and you couldn’t understand why others didn’t see them the same way. And although you wanted to grow up to be big and strong just like them, you couldn’t help but dream of being the princess to those knights.
That childhood dream did come true, well, sort of. You had trained with powerful mages to become a capable healer, that was the strong part of the dream. The part about being big, well that didn’t happen. This you were glad about, you much preferred your figure as it was.
The last part was tricky. When you first joined Eskel on the Path, romance was the last thing on both of your minds. The journeys were perilous and being the witcher’s healer meant bandaging up grisly wounds and staving off death at every turn with your herbs and potions. It was far from glamorous.
While you had grown to love the gentle witcher, you never considered that he could feel the same. The stories you were raised on described brutes who could not feel, and who could not love. You never stopped to think that maybe those stories were wrong too, even though he had already disproved the rest of them.
These new thoughts swirled around your mind as you stared at Eskel from across the campfire. They had been breathed to life by the witcher himself, and just like the fire in front of you, they sparked and soared and burned their way through your head.
That was when he finally admitted his affections for you. He had grown tired of you not getting the many hints he thought he had laid out very clearly. To your credit, they were not clear at all.
After that day the two of you were attached at the hip, the only clear next step as the both of you were already inseparable. You were his rock and he was your world.
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By now, the two of you had spent years exploring each other in ways your friendship would not have allowed. He trusted you now more than ever and would do anything to keep you safe. At one point he had gotten so wound up about making sure you were safe from harm that he tried to keep you at Kaer Morhen while he was on his hunts. You had expected this, seeing as just a week before the two of you had finally exchanged ‘I love you’s. In reality, you were always worried he would ask this of you. This meant you had plenty of time to prepare your speech.
It only took you thirty minutes to convince him to let you go with him. Not to his shock really, nor Lambert’s, who was also in the room. So with a satisfied smirk, you ran to pack your things.
Just as you returned, you saw what appeared to be the end of a small fistfight between Lambert and your lover. No doubt because of his brother’s incessant teasing. You couldn’t know for sure though, because Eskel quickly stiffened at the sound of your bag hitting the floor. He quickly grabbed it and headed out to his horse, never meeting your eye. Once he was out the door you glanced at Lambert and giggled as he laughed.
“What did you do?” you asked playfully when you calmed down.
“Ma’am, I haven’t the slightest idea of what you are talking about.” he mocked before disappearing through the door.
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Even after years and years, there was one topic you had yet to fully broach with Eskel. His scars. You knew that he took them in stride, but there was always a shy air around him when you so much as glanced at them.
You made sure to tell him how attractive you found him every day. It amazed both of you at how many ways you could describe his beauty. He once went as far as comparing you to the poet, Jaskier. That time it was he who made you blush, rather than the other way around.
You decided tonight was the night. It had been a good day, no monsters, no people, just you and your witcher traveling around. He decided to set up camp about an hour before sunset, you collected some sticks for him to use for the fire.
Your bottom lip was stuck between your teeth as you watched him. His brows were furrowed and his mouth formed a tight line as he concentrated on the task at hand.
Once the last bits of food were finished off, the sun began to sink slowly down the sky. It was a quiet night, barely any words were shared. Silent, but comfortably so. You found that comfort in Eskel’s eyes as you held his gaze.
After a minute, you’d had enough of the staring. Walking around the fire, you found yourself seated on his lap, straddling his thighs.
As you took his face in your hands you kissed him. His lips were soft despite the scars, this surprised you when you first kissed him. Maybe not soft as velvet, but soft in the same way that flowers are, feathery and thick, everywhere except the edges. He nipped at your bottom lip before tonguing his way past them. All of your kisses were like this, slow and gentle, every kiss as though it was the last. This was home, you felt terribly sorry as you pulled back.
“Hi, love,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his.
“Hi,” his smile lit a fire in you.
You smoothed his hair back with your hands, giving him another quick peck on the lips before you beheld the man in front of you.
He grabbed at your wrists and pulled them down, cupping each hand in his. Lucky for you, your hands weren’t a necessary part of your plan.
With grace, you began to kiss down his jaw, then his neck. Then across his collarbone. He hummed along, lacing his fingers through yours. But when you moved to the side with his scars he went rigid.
Not wanting to overstep your bounds, you pulled back to look at him.
“You don’t have to y/n,” his voice was shaky and you really couldn’t tell if it was from nerves. “You really don’t.”
He pulled your joined hands up to his chest, putting space between the two of you.
“Why? Do you not want me to?” Your voice now shook slightly too.
“I just know they’re ugly and I don’t want you to think you have to.”
His confession broke your heart.
“You’re right. I don’t have to.” You pulled your hands from his and planted them firmly on each side of his face. “I don’t have to do any of this. But I do. Because I want to.”
“It’s just-,” he sighed, “You always look at them and you never say anything. I know they’re there, and I know how they look-,” he trailed off and looked down and away from you.
“Hey hey hey. Stop that,” you moved your face so he would look at you.
“My dear. I love your eyes, so I look at them,” your lips pressed between his eyes
“And I love your nose, so I look at it.”
You placed a short kiss on the bridge of his nose.
“I also love your lips, so I look at them.”
A longer kiss to his mouth.
“And my love. I love your scars so I look at them.”
This time he grabbed your face and before he did anything he stared at you. For him, your confession led him to a deeper understanding. He knew that he loved you. Hell, he knew that from day one when he found himself powerless to the butterflies that never stopped fluttering even after you left the room. He never once considered that you felt the same way. Of course, you told him you did but he never gave those words so much weight. Now that he thought about it, you had no reason to lie, just like he had no reason to. He told you how he felt and you returned every sentiment. And you continued to, even after all these years together. He even reminisced on your astounding victory of convincing him to take you with him, away from Kaer Morhen.
As he stared, you felt your breath hitch in your lungs. You had never seen such love behind Eskel’s eyes. It took all you had to try to memorize this face, the feel of his hands, and his heat.
He still didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to. He knew you understood because he saw all the love his eyes had given you, pouring back into his from yours.
All he gave in return was himself. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in your neck. You repeated his actions and let go of the breath you forgot you were holding. He hummed against your shoulder and despite the heat of the fire, a chill ran down your spine.