Work Text:
“Uncle Eskel!” Dalla squealed, flinging herself at the large, scarred man before he’d even had a chance to set his bags down.
Lara used to think it was strange that her uncles always carried their own things. They cared for their own horses and equipment, and gently rebuffed any attempts by the servants to help. Her mother had explained that her uncles were not men accustomed to luxury, and habits of over a century were hard to break. It made them uncomfortable to be served, when they were created to serve.
“Welcome back,” Thorald said, grinning widely. “How was the hunting?”
Eskel grunted a reply, shaking his head. “The Path gets leaner every year,” he said. “Might have to take Geralt up on that retirement soon.”
Lara could hear the melancholy in his low tone. The loss of purpose would hit him hard. Uncle Geralt had been trying for Lara’s whole life to convince Uncle Eskel to join him at the vineyard, but Eskel clung to the life he had been created for. Lara often wondered what he would do when there were no monsters left to hunt.
“Uncle Eskel, you said you were going to teach me how to swim,” Dalla said, tugging at Eskel’s hand as though she had any hope of moving the mountain of a man.
Eskel just laughed that deep, rumbling laugh that had never failed to comfort Lara.
“I’ve not had a chance to say hello to your mother or grandmother yet, and you want to go swimming?” Eskel teased.
“I wanna go swimming!” Sigvald cried, racing over to grab at Eskel’s other hand.
Lara swept over to pull her son up onto her hip.
“Hello, Uncle Eskel,” she said, giving him a kiss on his scarred cheek. The strange texture of the scars had fascinated her as a small child, and she’d spent hours running her fingers over them. “Uncle Lambert’s here too, but he’s been spending all his time with the Shadows.”
Eskel’s lips quirked into a wry smile at the nickname. According to her mother, Eskel had been the one to dub their Witcher bodyguards ‘the Shadows’, for their terrifying ability to disappear from sight whilst always staying within reach of their charges. Even now, Letho was probably lurking somewhere. Lara had never quite mastered the art of spotting him like her mother had.
Eskel wrangled Dalla until she was clinging to his back like the baby monkey they’d seen in the travelling menagerie that had come to visit for her birthday. Dalla had been thrilled, until she was told that the animals all stayed in their cages, and that she could not have one of the Zerrikanian zebras to ride in place of her pony. She’d cried and refused to see any more of the animals after that. Lara despaired of her some days.
As their troupe all made their way inside, Letho fell into step beside them, giving Eskel a silent nod of acknowledgement. Lara had never understood the source of the strange tension between Letho and her uncles, but she longed to know, even now. Her curiosity had often gotten the better of her, and yet this was one place she felt it best not to pry. Not when Letho had told her stories as a child of the days when many Witchers had roamed the Continent, only to face hardship and hatred. He’d told her of the way the Witcher schools had faltered and fallen. The few of them who remained deserved to keep their secrets, no matter how curious she was.
Her mother was with Lambert and Gaetan in her cabinet when they arrived, discussing something quietly.
“Uncle Eskel, it’s so good to see you,” the empress said, throwing her arms around her uncle. “It’s been far too long. I’m sorry I missed you when you last visited.”
Eskel pressed a kiss to her hair, smiling softly. “Couldn’t have been helped,” he said simply. “But we’re both here now. Will you join us in the baths? Dalla wants to learn how to swim.”
“So do I!” Sigvald added, bouncing a little too enthusiastically on Lara’s hip. He really was starting to get too big to be carried around so easily.
Lara glanced to her mother, watching the indecision war on her face as she considered the offer. An empress’ work was never done, it seemed, and Lara couldn’t remember the last time she’d been able to spend time with her mother without politics being involved in some way.
“C’mon, Ciri, this stuff can wait,” Lambert said, sliding papers out from under her hands to stack them neatly to the side.
“You’ve more than earned a break,” Gaetan added quietly. “You can’t fix things overnight, but you’ve spent nearly three decades on this. One day off won’t hurt anyone.”
Ciri nodded, and Eskel beamed at her.
~~~~
Even with the sound of her children shrieking in delight, Lara found herself relaxing in the luxurious baths. The heat of the air and the water was soothing, and the gentle rumble of Eskel instructing the children how to float on their backs was achingly familiar. She couldn’t remember the specifics of the lessons he’d given her, but the cadence of his voice hadn’t changed at all, and her mind drifted to the days when she had been the one with his broad hands holding her up until she could keep herself afloat.
”Uncle Eskel, how do you know so much?” she’d asked, giggling as she splashed water all over him.
”I had to be taught, just like you,” he’d replied patiently. ”Some day, you’ll know even more than me.”
Sigvald screeched out a laugh as Lambert squirted water at him, and that side of the pool devolved into chaos, while Lara and Thorald could only laugh. Ciri shook her head at the antics, smiling indulgently.
“This is what I always wanted for you,” she said, turning to Lara. “I got to have moments like these, and I wanted you to have them too. Whether in hot springs under crumbling ruins, or a palace like this, I want happiness for you.”
Lara nodded, swallowing tears. Her mother had told her a little of her childhood. Lara’s tutors had told her even more. Fear and destruction and death, but still she was allowed little moments of joy with the men who had raised her to be the strong woman she was today.
“Uncle Eskel, how did you learn how to swim?” Dalla asked once they’d all calmed down.
Eskel painted a vivid image with his words, telling her all about the hot springs under Kaer Morhen, and the hours spent splashing around with the other boys, stolen moments in an otherwise severe environment. Moments spent with Uncle Geralt, back before either of them had wielded a blade.
“Huh, we used to just find a river and get chucked in,” Gaetan said quietly, startling Lara. She hadn’t realised he’d slipped over to soak his feet. “Maybe that was just Treyse.”
Lara shot him an alarmed look, horrified by the idea of simply throwing a child into a river in the hopes they would, by some survival instinct, miraculously learn to swim.
“He never let anybody actually drown,” Gaetan said, shrugging. “Somebody always fished out whoever was struggling.”
Lara took a steadying breath. “The more I learn of the training Witchers went through, the less I want to know,” she said.
Thorald hummed in agreement, eyeing Gaetan as though seeing him in an entirely new light.
“Gaetan, look!” Sigvald called, ducking his head underwater so that he could blow bubbles.
Gaetan grinned, and Lara was struck with the thought that she had rarely seen such an expression on his face. He was not generally known to be a jovial man. Nor, truly, was Letho. Even in her childhood, they had always seemed so stoic and serious. Now, she wondered if perhaps they’d been dealing with concerns too great for even a child’s cheerfulness to lift. Her mother had been working for so long to undo the damage done by many generations that came before, and her Shadows had been with her through it all, while her Uncles walked the Path to protect the common folk.
She turned and pressed a kiss to Gaetan’s cheek.
“Thank you,” she said.
Gaetan gaped at her, his bafflement clear on his face.
“You both do so much for us,” Lara said, nodding toward where Letho was listening to her children ramble about whatever it was that had caught their fancy this time. “You deserve more recognition for that. I’m sorry that you never got these moments, but please know that you’re part of the moments we have here.”
Ciri smirked. “Been trying to tell them both that for years,” she said. “Maybe by the time your grandchildren are learning to swim, they’ll finally believe it.”
Gaetan scowled and flicked water at her.
“That’s treason!” Ciri cried, portalling out of the way. “Letho! The Cat is trying to assassinate me!”
Letho laughed, deeper even than Eskel’s, and shook his head. “Never agreed to save you from rogue Witchers,” he said.
Ciri portalled again, swirling into existence behind the big man and pushing with all her might. For a woman of her stature, it was not an inconsiderable effort, and Letho tumbled into the water, splashing everyone.
That set off another bout of splashing, which even Lara and Thorald deigned to join, laughing loudly and enjoying the moment before they had to return to a world of politics.