#memory loss fic

Take My Hand, Hold Me Close (ch. 1)

Eskel and his elven lover Aniela have been together for some years when an accident occurs…

In which Eskel forgets something important, and PTSD and self-confidence issues are a bitch.

Angst with a happy ending. Geraskier took over for a few pages, I have no control over them.. 

See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here. This is the longest chapter, as it was decided what was previously two chapters needed to be combined so things made sense to those who don’t live in my head, lol.

-

Aniela leaned up on her toes, hands resting on Eskel’s gambeson, to press a soft kiss to his lips. His hands rested on her waist, giving a light squeeze. She pulled back slightly to look up into his eyes, still leaning into him.

“Come back to me in one piece?” she asked softly.

“I’ll do my best,” he answered with a smile.

“You’d better.” She gave an answering smile.

“Stay safe while I’m gone.”

“I think I’ll stay in the room. There’s mending to be done, a bath to be taken, and I’m tired from the path.”

“Good. Don’t wait up for me, hmm?”

“I can’t promise that. You know I worry until you’re back.”

“I’ve fought many cockatrices before.”

“I know. Even so.”

“I’ll try to be quick, then.”

“Please do.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead then turned and left their room at the inn, closing the door softly behind him.

The room was comfortable enough, and quite cozy with the small fire going. This was far from the first hunt Eskel had gone on, leaving her behind to wait: there had been too many to count at this point. And yet she couldn’t shake a sense of unease. Silly, she told herself. She was comfortable and safe here, and Eskel had been confident that the contract would be an easy one. Everything would be fine. He would likely be back before she even got into bed.

-

Eskel woke, confused and aching. He blinked his heavy lids open slowly, unsure of where he was. Dawn light was stabbing into his eyes, and he lifted a hand to shield them, wincing. Birds were calling and he was looking up at trees. He was camped out, then. Except when he slowly pushed his aching body up from the ground, his head pounding like he’d had too good a time with white gull the night before, he looked around to find no evidence of camp. No bedroll, no fire, no Scorpion.

He frowned. Looking down at himself, he saw that he was wearing all of his armour. His steel sword was still strapped to his back, and his silver sword, covered in dried black blood, was on the ground nearby. He must have fought something. A hit to the head, then. Hopefully he had taken down whatever it was he was fighting before passing out. He must have, he reasoned, as otherwise he wouldn’t have woken up at all. He grunted, pushing himself to stand, slowed by his aching body and throbbing head.

He started walking, hoping he was headed in the direction of the village that he had presumably taken a contract from. He did eventually find his way to the edge of the village. As he entered, a few people seemed to recognize him, nodding as he passed. One villager called out to him from a field.

“Oi, witcher!”

Eskel looked over.

“Took out the beast in the woods, then, did ya?”

Eskel nodded hesitantly. He didn’t remember, but he must have. He glanced around, gauging the size of the village from what he could see.

“Can you point me towards the inn?” he asked. It was likely to only have the one, being small, and he hoped he might have procured a room in it. Hopefully his memory would come back soon, but he wasn’t overly concerned. In a village this size it shouldn’t be hard to locate Scorpion and whomever had put out the contract. The farmer gave Eskel quick instructions and he headed on down the road.

When he got to the inn he was greeted warmly inside by the woman behind the bar.

“Took longer than ye thought, eh, witcher?”

“Hmm,” he responded. “I have a room?”

The barkeep nodded, a quizzical look on her face. “Aye, last door on the right.”

“Thank you,” Eskel replied, and headed towards the stairs at the back. He trudged up the stairs, down the hallway and opened the door that was indicated. As he walked through the door he saw a woman sitting on the edge of the bed, fretting at a piece of clothing. Honey-ginger hair fell in soft waves around her face and shoulders, and a pointed ear poked through it on the side facing him. What on the continent was an elf doing in his room?

When she saw him she jumped up, coming towards him. “Eskel! I’ve been so worried, are you alright?”

His hand had immediately gone to the steel sword on his back upon finding a stranger in his room.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly. “What are you doing in my room?”

She stumbled a step back, wide eyes focused on his arm reaching for his sword. He heard her heart rate pick up. “Wh-what do you mean?”

He glanced around the room in confusion, wondering if there had been a mistake, but those were his saddlebags by the table, with the leather tooling Geralt had done a few winters ago decorating the fronts.

“What do you want?” he demanded. His head was throbbing and he just wanted to lie down somewhere relatively soft and quiet to wait for it to pass.

“Eskel,” the woman started, voice wobbling slightly, “do you not know me?”

“No,” he answered apprehensively, “should I?”

She gulped, pale-aqua eyes shining. “It’s… uhm… the inn was short of rooms, and so we were rooming together.”

He frowned at that. It sounded awfully improbable. And what woman would agree to room with a stranger, and a burly scarred witcher, at that?

“I’m sure you want to rest, so I’ll… I’ll get out of your hair.” She hurried about the room, stuffing items into a bag, then gave him a look he couldn’t parse as she came towards the door. “Goodbye, then,” she said, voice shaking.

She looked at him a moment longer before skirting around him and out the door. Her scent as she passed was a mix of lavender, upset and fear. He turned to watch her leave, baffled. She was obviously scared to be in his company. How it came about that they had shared a room, he couldn’t understand. Maybe after a bit of a nap, things would be clearer. Or maybe not. He wasn’t sure he cared at that point. He had a room, and a bed, and he was exhausted.

He closed the door, setting his armour and swords by the bed before dropping onto it. He was asleep almost immediately.

-

Aniela had had a short, fitful sleep. She’d stayed up late, waiting for Eskel to return. Eventually she had laid down, but her worried thoughts had kept her awake a while longer. She’d then tossed and turned, waking often from troubled dreams. When the sun had started to creep over the horizon and Eskel still hadn’t returned, she’d given up on trying to sleep and gotten dressed. She was fussing over a shirt she’d already mended when Eskel finally returned to their room. Relief flooded her as he entered the room looking relatively unharmed. She jumped up from her perch on the bed and stepped towards him.

“Eskel! I’ve been so worried, are you alright?” Her eyes searched his face and armour, checking for obvious damage. While he looked a little worse for wear, somewhat bloody and dirty, she couldn’t see any concerning gashes or tears. Her worry edged off a little more until he reached towards his swords and she froze.

“Who are you?” he asked gruffly. “What are you doing in my room?”

Watching someone reach for a weapon while looking at her set off flashbacks from the last day in her village. After years of mistreatment, being attacked solely for the crime of her birth, of being different. Called names, hit with stones, boots, hands, called slurs. She shook her head. Eskel loved her, he would never harm her. She willed her heart to settle its frantic beating, her mind to calm. What had he just said, though?

“Wh-what do you mean?”

She watched him look around the room in confusion and tried to understand what was going on.

“What do you want?” he demanded. She looked into his eyes and she felt fear take hold, shivering down her spine. His eyes held none of their usual warmth or care. He was looking at her with confusion, suspicion: as a stranger.

“Eskel,” she said, willing her voice steady, “do you not know me?”

“No,” he answered gruffly, eyes narrowed, “should I?”

She gulped. She didn’t know what had happened on his hunt. Had he hit his head? Did he have some form of amnesia? But wouldn’t he then be more confused and lost in general? He seemed like himself, it was only her that seemed to be the problem. Her memories were fighting to take over her thoughts, people shouting, throwing things, pushing, hitting… her heart was beating like a drum inside her chest. If he didn’t remember her… maybe it was best to leave it that way. She sometimes worried that she was a burden. Eskel hadn’t asked to be saddled with her and her issues: she’d fallen into his lap, and he’d been too kind to push her out. He’d saved her that day in her village, and had let her tag along with him, having nowhere else to go. Then her life had been linked to his, and he had no escape, no choice. It wasn’t fair to him. Her mind was clouded and panicked and screaming for her to run. He didn’t know her. He had no reason to trust her, let alone care for her. The logical part of her brain knew that Eskel would never hurt anyone without just cause, stranger or no, but when she had seen him reach for his swords, logic had fled.

“It’s… uhm… the inn was short of rooms, and so we were rooming together,” she fabricated. He frowned and she rushed on. “I’m sure you want to rest, so I’ll… I’ll get out of your hair.” She hurried about the room, stuffing her things into a bag. She snatched the glamour bracelet off the table and slipped it on as she left.

She looked at him on her way to the door, wondering if it was the last time she would see him. Taking in his beautiful golden eyes, strong jaw, full and soft lips…

“Goodbye, then.” She felt she might choke on the words as they passed her lips. She looked at him a moment longer before stepping around him and out the door. She hurried down the hallway and stairs and out of the inn, as if she could outrun her memories, or the look on Eskel’s face.

She sped through the village, not even registering her surroundings. As she walked, her mind whirled and fought with itself. She had left Eskel without confirming that he was unharmed. What if he had a hidden injury that needed attending to? What if his apparent memory loss got him into trouble? But what help was she really to him? She couldn’t fight monsters, like Lambert’s witcher lover. Didn’t bring in coin, like Geralt’s bard. She was only a worry and a burden. A drain on Eskel’s coin and energy. But he loved her, and she was abandoning him. And what was her plan? She would make it maybe a week, a week and a half at the most, being apart from Eskel. She would start getting weaker well before that, as Yennefer’s spell that tied her life to Eskel’s stretched thin: it would be maybe three days before her energy would start to flag. But she’d been living on borrowed time anyways. She should have died a few years back, it had just caught up with her. Nothing to be dramatic over. Everyone’s time came eventually. 

She walked through the day, desperate to make it to the next village. She had nothing with her to camp out with, having only taken her clothing and personal items, no bedroll or blanket, and now having no witcher to protect her.

She made it into the next town late at night, handing over too much of the coin she kept for markets in order to procure a room. One more thing to remind her of how much she depended on Eskel. The remaining coin wouldn’t last long, and she didn’t have a plan. But she was exhausted, both from walking and from her panic. Making any sort of plan was a problem for tomorrow. Tonight she gratefully fell into the small bed, not even bothering to take off her clothes before wrapping the blanket around herself and passing out.

She woke sometime later, in the dark of night, screaming from a nightmare, alone. Without Eskel’s warmth and reassurance, back rubs and gentle words, it was a long while before she fell back asleep.

-

Eskel slept through until dawn the next day, waking with a muzzy head. He reached out to the space beside him, confused when he found it empty. As he blinked his eyes and his mind woke up, he wasn’t sure what he had been looking for, but couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing.

He ordered a bath from the innkeeper, and after bathing he pulled out fresh clothing from his pack. The first shirt he pulled out, however, didn’t appear to be his. Upon unrolling it, it seemed to be a woman’s blouse. He frowned at it in confusion. Did it belong to the woman that had been in his room? But how had her shirt made its way into his pack? Nothing about the encounter or the woman was sitting right with him, and it was giving him a headache trying to figure it out. Had she been going through his things? But how had she managed to put her shirt into his pack? It didn’t make sense. Not much did, at the moment.

As he shook it out to look at it, the faint smell of lavender met his nose. It felt comforting, which was further confusing. The woman had smelled of lavender, but he didn’t know her, and no-one else he knew used the scent. Lavender was meant to be calming, sure, but he didn’t have a personal connection to the scent. Not that he could remember, at least. So why did he feel warm and comforted by it? Why did his chest feel so tight? He drew in a shaky breath. He still couldn’t remember the fight he’d been contracted for, and he worried he was forgetting more than just that. He hoped he might run into one of his brothers on the path soon, if his memory didn’t return before then. He hoped it would: he felt uneasy.

When he went to the stables to get Scorpion, he was further confused and dismayed when the stablehand led him to a horse he didn’t recognize, a dun mare.

“Are you…sure, that this is my horse?” Eskel asked the stablehand sceptically, hoping it was some sort of mistake.

The stablehand looked at him quizzically. “Aye, sir, this is the one you brought to me two days ago.” They petted the horse’s nose affectionately. “She’s been a good girl, haven’t you, Acorn?”

He had never had a horse named Acorn. The horse, the woman in his room, nothing made sense. He was glad he was headed to Kaer Morhen. He hoped his brothers would be able to help him sort things out.

-

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