#what is a home
Next chapter of my cat witcher OC (Nix) fic. See the Masterpost for content/warnings. Masterpost here.
Cozy library times
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Eskel hurried through the courtyards, scanning the area. He had already checked the animal enclosures and stables, and they had been devoid of people. Lambert and Aiden had been sparring (or engaging in foreplay, he could never tell), in the training area. Geralt and Jaskier seemed to be enjoying each-other’s company in the barn, so Eskel hadn’t bothered checking inside, as they were clearly in there alone, judging by the sounds he was hearing. Unless she’d ventured further outside the walls, which he doubted, and sincerely hoped she wouldn’t on her own, Nix wasn’t outside.
Eskel spun around and jogged back inside. He had already checked her room and the kitchen, which was where he had found Vesemir. The eldest witcher had told him that Nix had been charged with gathering eggs and cleaning the hen house that morning, but he hadn’t seen her since. She wouldn’t go outside the walls, he told himself. Remembering her hunting outing with Aiden, a shiver ran down Eskel’s spine. It wasn’t snowing today, but it was damn cold, and while her leg seemed to have healed, he still worried. Nix was a witcher, still strong and stubborn as any of his brothers, but she seemed somewhat fragile with her obviously weaker healing abilities. If she had gone out on her own, they would have words. He would tell her she wasn’t to go out on her own. He would… Eksel halted that train of thought, snickering to himself. If he said anything like that to her she’d likely give him a black eye and refuse to talk to him for days. If he was lucky.
Eskel ran into the library, out of breath, slowing to a stop when he spotted a head of dark hair over the top of a chair by the fire. He stopped a moment to let his breathing calm, and Nix popped her head up over the chair to look at him.
“You racing someone, or running from someone?” She smirked. “Do you need to be hidden? Did you commit a crime?”
Eskel chuckled, walking over and dropping to the floor on the rug at her feet.
“No crime today. The others are all busy canoodling outside.”
Nix raised a dark brow. “All together?”
Eskel snorted. “Lambert and Aiden are sparring, in the loosest sense of the word, in the training area. And I’m fairly certain that what Geralt and Jaskier are doing in the hay shouldn’t be said in polite company.”
Nix laughed. “Well, I don’t know that you’ll find any polite company around here, but I also don’t need any more details.”
“Noted.”
“So what were you running around out of breath for? Did you need help with something?”
Eskel shook his head. “No. I was looking for you.”
“Oh. Well, you found me. Why the hurry, though?”
The tips of Eskel’s ears turned pink. “I was worried.”
Nix blinked at him. “Worried?”
Eskel cleared his throat and glanced at the fire. “Well, you weren’t in your room, and Vesemir said you were on chicken duty, but I figured that should have been done an hour or two ago, and then I couldn’t find you anywhere outside…”
“And you thought, what? The chickens might have revolted? That I got lost, or…”
“You don’t exactly have the best track record outside of the keep.”
“Hey!”
“Well?”
“‘m perfectly capable,” she grumbled.
“I know”
They lapsed into silence for a few minutes.
“What are you reading?”
“Jaskier recommended this book of poetry: I’m enjoying it.”
“Is it one of his?”
“No, but he did lend me one of those as well,” she laughed.
After a few minutes of companionable silence, Nix let her hand drift down near her knees, brushing the top of Eskel’s hair. It was incredibly soft. After a moment she grew bolder, trailing her fingers through it lightly. When Eskel didn’t move away or say anything she let her fingers draw through deeper, down to his scalp. He rumbled happily, and she paused.
“Mmm, don’t stop.”
She chuckled softly. “Alright.”
“Read to me?”
“Hmm… The Frog.
Have you ever wished when fretting
‘Bout the chilly air of spring,
When the days are longer getting
And the frogs begin to sing,
Have you ever wished that you could
Just change places with the frog—
Let him shoulder all your trouble
And then leave you on the log,
In the middle of the mill-pond,
Nothing in the world to do?
Have you wished you could change places,
You be frog and frog be you?
He don’t fret 'bout rainy weather;
If the sun shines he don’t cry;
He just takes it all together;
Happy wet and happy dry.”
“I think the frog would have a hard time fighting monsters,” Eskel said.
“Well, that would be the frog’s problem.”
“But I would feel guilty.”
“Sort of misses the point of trading places.”
“Mmm. How about you? Would you like to be a frog?”
“Holds a certain appeal, doesn’t it? No worries or responsibilities, just sitting on logs and hopping about and catching flies.”
“One might argue that frogs worry about being eaten.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever seen a frog look worried.”
“But have you ever spoken with one?”
Nix chuckled. “Can’t say that I have, no.”
“Geralt did, I think. But then, that wasn’t truly a frog, but a cursed prince.”
“Oh? And did a princess kiss him and he turned back?”
Eskel sighed. “No, it wasn’t that kind of story.”
“They usually aren’t. Not in real life. Especially not when witchers are involved.”
“It seems that way.” He adjusted his position, sitting back against her chair and resting his head against her knees. When he’d settled she went back to playing with his hair, twisting a lock around her finger. “What worries and responsibilities do you wish to be rid of?” He asked.
“The usual ones. All of them. Sometimes I envy humans. To be a milkmaid or a seamstress, go to work without fearing for your life, do your job and go home at the end of the day. Have a home and a family to go back to. But that isn’t in the cards for us. May as well dream of being a frog.”
“Sounds nice.”
“Being a frog?” She gave the lock of hair a little tug.
Eskel chuckled. “No. I’ll pass on the flies. The human life though. Maybe a blacksmith.”
“Yeah?”
“Sure. Make swords instead of swinging them. Make pots to cook dinner at home.”
“You would cook the dinner?”
“With my partner. Or maybe we’d take turns.”
“That does sound nice.”
They were quiet for a moment.
“Maybe it’s not so out of reach,” Eskel said.
“What?”
“Who said witchers can’t have those things?”
Nix scoffed.
“I mean it. Who’s to stop us from having a home, or any of those things, really.”
“It isn’t done.”
“Doesn’t mean it couldn’t be.”
“Hmm. Perhaps.”
“Perhaps? You have no problem telling Aiden where to go and how to get there, but you’re going to let others’ expectations dictate what you can and can’t do with your life? A home is just a house, a structure made of wood. Love makes it a home.”
She twitched and tugged his hair a little harder by accident, then quickly let it go and combed through it in apology.
“Why are you talking about love all of a sudden,” she mumbled.
“It’s part of what we were talking about, isn’t it?”
He turned to look at her, his eyes searching, and she shrugged.
“I suppose,” she replied, her eyes on her hands which she’d pulled back to the book, fidgeting with the pages.
Eskel shuffled so that he was properly facing her. “Aiden said you lost someone.” Nix nodded. She was silent for so long that Eskel was about to apologize for asking, when she spoke up.
“There was no house, but she was my home.” She flicked her eyes up to Eskel’s then quickly back down.
“You don’t have to tell me if it’s painful to talk about,” Eskel offered gently.
“Her name was Aleksandra. She was a Cat as well. We did everything together. Travelled together, took contracts together. She was beautiful, and strong. Confident to a fault. Sarcastic and funny and stupidly kind. She was everything, and then,” her voice faltered, “and then she was gone.”
Eskel reached a hand up and set it gently on her knee, and when she didn’t shy away he rubbed it gently. “I’m so sorry,” he murmured. “I would have loved to have met her. She sounds amazing.”
“She was,” Nix said with a watery smile, meeting his eyes. “She would have liked you.”
He smiled. “I’m glad. I’m sure I would have liked her too, from the sounds of it. Though…” He trailed off and Nix looked at him questioningly.
“Though?”
“I might have been jealous if she were always by your side.”
Nix’s eyes widened then darted down to the book in her lap.
“It’s true life is no fairytale. No kiss will bring back what we’ve lost, no fairy godmother will grant our wishes, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be happy,” Eskel said.
“We can, but it doesn’t last.”
“Nothing lasts forever. But I hope you won’t let your loss stop you from being happy again. I’d wager that Aleksandra would want you to be happy.”
Nix was about to say something when Jaskier came bounding into the library with ruddy cheeks.
“Nix! Vesemir asked me to fetch you to help with dinner.” Jaskier came up alongside them. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt—”
“No, that’s alright! Thank you Jaskier, tell Vesemir I’m on my way.”
Jaskier nodded, and left the room. Nix turned back to Eskel.
“Sorry Eskel, I should go…”
Eskel got to his feet and offered Nix a hand. “Of course, we shouldn’t keep the old man waiting.”
She set the book on the table beside the chair and accepted the hand up.
“Maybe you can read to me again tomorrow.”
Nix’s cheeks heated. “If you like. More poetry?”
“Maybe Jaskier can recommend something. Maybe something about new beginnings.”
“New beginnings…” Nix hummed. “You’re quite soppy today.”
Eskel shrugged. “Is that such a bad thing?”
Nix looked up at him, his golden eyes wide and hopeful, with a spark of mirth. He was smiling, and something about his expression reminded her of how Aleks had looked at her, a lifetime ago.
She caught herself smiling back at him. “No. No, it isn’t.”
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Thanks@contemplativepancakes for the library, @newnamesamecharlotte for the frog, and @lohrendrell for my life
The poem is The Frog, by William Henry Dawson.
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