Stop Following Me.

“Stop Following me.”

“Hey, go on, shoo!” He toed gently at the little goat, hoping to dissuade it from trailing behind him. Scorpion was getting anxious, and the last thing he needed was an edgy horse heading into dense forest. A loud bleat was all he got in reply as little hooves scampered back to him. It was just… standing there. It wasn’t looking at him, didn’t seem to want anything it just… stood there. He could feel the heat of the little furry body against his calf. Gotta find you a safe home, little guy. 

Eskel looked back at the road behind him. He hadn’t come far from the last village. Must’ve followed from there. He sighed and scooped up the kid.

“Come on. Back. You can’t come with me.” 

The last thing he needed was another living thing dependent on him for survival. It never ended well. It would just leave Eskel with the hollow ache of a dead companion (if only he’d been more careful, been better, smarter, tried harder) and one more reminder that generosity and the Path didn’t fit together. All that aside, Eskel didn’t have time to spare wrangling a chaotic baby goat. He was due in White Orchard in less than a week. With Scorpion, he could make good time, but neither of them could afford distraction.

The first three times he deposited the goat back with what he assumed to be its herd, he barely managed twenty paces before he heard the thud of small cloven hooves behind him. The fourth time, he set it in a thicket and waited for it to start nibbling before he mounted Scorpion and bolted, taking off at a full gallop until he reached the forest. 

With dusk slowly giving way to darkness, Eskel lit a fire, satisfied that he’d left the animal with a village where it can do some good—produce some meat eventually, maybe milk. He thought back, trying to remember whether it had been male or female—female, he was pretty sure. He laughed bitterly, “Ladies always giving me trouble. In’t that right, Scorpion.” The horse whickered sympathetically and Eskel gave him a hearty thump on his flank. 

It took Eskel a while to relax as he lay on his bedroll, staring at the eerie moonlight filtering through the branches above him. He always thought moonlight was underrated. Even as he watched the moon track across the velvet darkness behind it, he kept having to remind certain muscle groups to let go: jaw, forearms, diaphragm… something in his hips was holding onto something, winding insidiously around his femurs and up through his middle. He rubbed his face, “Come on, let it go. The fucking goat is fine. Just…” He pushed the held breath out of his lungs and let his lung pressure rebalance itself as he traced his thighs with his hands, coaxing his body back from worry. 

Finally, he slept.

An hour after dawn, Eskel blinked awake and had to rub his eyes for a second take. He had to be dreaming. He craned his head to better see down the length of his body and sure enough, the little stinker is nibbling on some grass ten feet away by the foot of his bedroll. Instead of exasperation, Eskel was becoming curious about this little goat’s seeming infatuation with him. “Where’d you come from, anyway?”—I mean, if the goat was there, he may as well try and get some sense out of it while he figured out what to do with it—“And why me? Hmm? Do you want me to help you? Do—do you think I’m your mother? …Jesus I’ve been travelling alone too much.” He sighed and watched as the critter looked up at him with a mouthful of sweet fern. 

“Well… If you’re sticking around there’s a few things you need to know. If I say run, you run. Don’t get tangled up in my sword—if you hear steel or silver, keep back. Understand? If I say stay, you stay, and if you have any doubts, just follow Scorpion’s lead. He knows my patterns by now. Finally: Do Not wander off. You’re either with me or you’re not. So… last chance to change your mind.”

That winter, Eskel returned to Kaer Morhen with a goat, and nobody asked any questions.

_______

Inspired by this picture drawn by the talented @pressedinthepages​

Geralt, looking at Eskel in W3: Well... you've rounded out a bit... Still got some of last winter's blubber on you.

Everyone: Eskel has a secret lover on the Path.

Me: Eskel has an army of little old ladies who adore him, because he's polite, kind and does everything he can to help out.

He takes their contracts. They vary from tending to the herb garden, collecting their medicine from the apothecary a town over and rescuing Mr Tibbles from a nekker. Everything a grandson might do. Most of them have lost their grandchildren to plague, famine and war.

In return, they feed him pie, knit him glove inserts and socks, and send him away with food parcels (and a lot of juicy gossip). He's given up trying to refuse their food, because he knows it empowers them to pay him in the only way they can.

Shout out to @tsukiwolf42 who imagined the ol' gals dragging big, burly Eskel in by the ear for something to eat because he looked a little too thin, and LaMadameMeduse on Twitter who suggested he loves the gossip and the socks always match his gambeson.

Geralt and Jaskier share a bed so often, nearly every time they stay the night in a town somewhere and it started as something practical but now?

Jaskier will curl into him in the night and he’ll say it’s because “it’s cold in here and the sheets are laughably thin”

Geralt will wrap an arm around him and he’ll say it’s because “you fell off the bed that one time in faelwin and complained about it for days”

They’ll face eachother, only illuminated by the dim moonlight coming in the windows and just talk to eachother, about strange monsters Geralts fought, about Jaskiers time spent on the coast, and they’ll laugh about some of their adventures and they’ll revel in knowing eachother.

Jaskier will say “I’m glad fate brought us together” and Geralt will respond with an amused huff and pull him in closer saying, “destiny owed me this one, I think”

Hey so what if Jaskiers entire family were hunters? Or just really rough and rowdy, fighters. They grew up fighting and hunting but Jask is the “odd ball” in his family because he’s against violence?

Like, let’s take his family for a moment, now imagine with me: a giant man with nothing but pure muscle, people have to look up at him to speak. Geralt would he shocked at meeting him, Jaskier’s father looks more like a tame bear than human, though jaskier gets his smile, laugh and humour from him.

For his mother? I’d love to say she’s just as scary as Jaskiers father, very intimidating, she looks like she can handle her own shit. She’s gotta round up all of the kids? Give her five minutes. Also I think she’d also be tall (tall intimidating women please end me thanks).

I just like the thought of Jaskiers family being  excellent hunters/fighters who continually look for competition. Maybe it throws Geralt for a loop, finding out that Jaskier came from a family of fighters and knows how to use different weapons, but prefers poetry and art, a lover.

im thinking about eskels boobs actually

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by how much you love someone