Chapter Text
A.N: Haven't written in a long time but been feeling inspired lately. Hopefully this is not too cringe.
Aretuza
“Fall back!” A Scoia’tael commander screamed from the courtyard below Tissaia’s perch, and a dark scowl twisted the soft features of the Elven queen’s face from where she eyed the target of her enmity far above.
“She’s mine.” Francesca made a promise through gritted teeth.
The lightning from Tissaia’s finger tips had finally sputtered. Her body gave out and she fell back, caught in a strong grasp that came just in time.
Yennefer.
She came back.
Around her ribcage lithe hands gripped as though they couldn't let go.
She had to free herself, someway. She had to fight. The battle was not won. But the pressure in her head shrouded her focus and throbbed incessantly.
The warmth around her; she wished to disappear in it. If she wasn't to fight, then she was to die.
Yennefer pulled her to safety inside the tower.
“Tissaia.”
Blackened and raw, her hands matched her carnage. They trembled from the use of power beyond her limit. She’d never match the great Alzur’s prodigious strength and will. Mages from across the realm looked to him as a renowned scholar. But he was that, and worse. His teachings led to the deaths of hundreds during the great war. And his reputation as a lecherous snob was nothing for which to aspire.
“Tissaia.”
Through a muddle she heard her name but didn’t respond. The thrum in her ears slowly ebbed and clouded her thoughts. Yennefer touched her face and squeezed her arm to rouse her.
“Listen to me.”
Her surroundings blurred. Yennefer was the sharpest in her view.
Those violet eyes searched hers desperately, fixed with purpose, and sharpened by fear. Her gaze turned over her shoulder with a snap, once, then twice.
“Go…” Tissaia mustered.
Yennefer, she should’ve been horrified. Unbridled fury and chaotic rage contradicted many of her teachings.
“Leave me.”
Yennefer hugged her close and started them down the spiral of stairs.
‘Why did you come back?’
She closed her eyes, feeling herself float about jostled at each pull, with no choice but to comply with the dark-haired woman’s will.
Yennefer hurried relentlessly and she held on as much as her grasp would allow as Yennefer all but carried her away from the overlook.
On the ground floor they hurried through Aretuza’s halls to an unknown destination.
Yennefer skid to a sudden stop and grabbed her close.
Her mind tumbled from the whiplash and she rested her head against the soft surface in front of her.
Armor clanked in the distance. She couldn’t tell in what direction.
Stragglers from the Elven army. It must’ve been those lucky enough to escape Tissaia's wrath.
She had to get Tissaia out. They had to survive. She had to survive.
They were a step around the hallway's corner when one of Francesca’s swordsmen rushed past them with a drawn blade.
“Shit.”
Yennefer pressed her back to the wall and held Tissaia close, keeping them out of sight. They’d sneak past when the opportunity arose.
A woman’s primal scream leapt into the air, and a thick *shuck* sound followed, then the harsh clattering of armor to stone. The voice was familiar. Yennefer peeked around the corner and stepped out when she recognized the heaving red-headed figure with her foot on the elven soldier and her hands still wrapped around the hilt of the axe plunged between a gap in his armor.
“Triss?”
The Elven soldier coughed blood then went limp.
Triss let go of the axe in his front and faced them with tender eyes. “Yen. I thought…” Triss hurried over wrapping her in a hug. “You’re alive.” She set back and sized the Rectoress in her arms but said nothing. That was best.
“Are there more?” Yennefer eyed the body.
“They’ve retreated—”
“Triss!”
Fire rushed her, and her narrowed gaze shot to the direction of that voice. On her face a dangerous scowl twisting for the blonde coming towards them. Yennefer gave Tissaia to Triss, and Triss didn’t hesitate to wrap Tissaia in a protective embrace.
“You wretch!” Yennefer growled. A gust of force launched from her hand and collided with Sabrina, sending her back to the wall with a pronounced smack. “Despicable.” Yennefer grabbed Sabrina’s throat. “I should kill you for what you’ve allowed into our home.”
“What’s stopping you?”
Adrenaline spiked under her skin and she tightened her grip with a sudden squeeze.
Such nonchalance when the wretch should’ve begged for mercy.
Sabrina choked for a breath.
“Yennefer…” Tissaia’s voice crawled out weaker than normal but no less stern. “Let her go. She’s not a concern.”
“Or our sister.” Yennefer’s gaze burned daggers into Sabrina. “It would be wise for you to stay out of my sight.” She let go but not without giving Sabrina a final thrust to the wall.
“You should go.” Triss said to Sabrina and averted her gaze. “We’ll talk later.”
Sabrina looked between unwelcoming stares. “Fine.” She said with a quick straighten of her clothing before she left.
Yennefer turned to Triss with a disgusted curl of her lip. “Why are you lenient with her? She sided with Vilgefortz—”
“She didn’t side with Vilgefortz.” Triss said. “She sided with Redania. No one knew Vilgefortz’s true intentions.”
“She’s a traitor to us either way.” Yennefer said and took Tissaia from Triss.
She slipped her arm around Tissaia’s waist and turned, extending her arm. At the end of her fingertips a rift summoned as a widening tear in the empty space before them. She readied to step into the portal with the Rectoress.
“Are you always so quick to cut ties?” Triss called out.
With a furrowed brow Yennefer entered the portal and stepped out into Tissaia’s room.
They trudged through shadowed surroundings; Yennefer trusting memory, feeling through the dark for obstacles in their path.
She grabbed a bed post and helped Tissaia sit on the bedside.
Then a pause. Silent but heavy as Yennefer gathered her bearing.
The comfort of her room felt foreign. The fight was over. Surely there was more to come but now it was quiet. A calm before the storm.
Yennefer moved about the room, grabbing fresh clothing from drawers with a furrow planted across her brow.
She couldn’t take her gaze from the young mage. Dark energy followed Yennefer. Yennefer needed rest to balance emotions and recover her chaos. They all did.
At the vanity, Yennefer set the clothing down and hung her head; her long hair obscuring her profile. She silently braced the edge of the vanity with turmoil portrayed in her hunched stature. Her shoulders rose and fell with every breath, and her dark aura turned hostile, growing the longer Yennefer stood quiet.
She wanted vengeance, understandably. But it was too soon for her to unleash fury on their enemies.
“Yennefer.” Tissaia tried but her voice came dry and small. Her throat burned with every effort, and her body felt broken in a thousand places. “Yennefer—”
“What?”
Yennefer snapped but the mage’s frustration didn’t offend her. It drew her sympathy.
With a sigh, Yennefer hunched deeply, her hands clenched into fists for a last time.
“I’m sorry.” Yennefer turned from the vanity and pushed her hair from her face. Tissaia met a gaze brimming with unshed emotion and she looked away. She’d failed her. One of the people closest to her heart. Yennefer took a breath as if readying herself to speak, but nothing came.
Yennefer stood before her, a broken shadow of herself.
“…you should rest.” Tissaia said, breaking the quiet in the room.
Now was the time for Yennefer to leave her side. Only in solitude could she sink into her grief. Yennefer’s tense and anxious presence suffocated her.
Lifeless. She could hardly lift her arms without overexerting. It was gone, her chaos. A void of the hollowest kind stirred inside her. She’d never felt so small…so human.
This must’ve been how those without the gift felt. Ordinary and purposeless, a sad existence. She wouldn’t last in this state.
“I’m fine.” Yennefer's voice came from behind.
The bedroom door latched and Yennefer picked up a snuffed candle from her desk. She took a breath in and ignited the wick with a snap of her fingers. She stared sullenly at the flickering candle. Conjuring that flame must have been more of a feat than it should have.
Yennefer strode across the room with purpose, lighting other candles on her way.
“Please go.” Tissaia tried again.
“Not until you’re settled.” Yennefer said and took the clean clothes from the vanity into her arm.
With a furrow across her brow, Tissaia looked in the direction of Yennefer’s voice. Why wouldn’t she leave?
“I don’t need to settle—”
“Then asleep. Either way, you won’t rid yourself of me that easy.”
The room silenced.
“I’ll get the bath ready.” She disappeared into the adjoined bathroom; one of its few guests. Tissaia didn’t object. It didn’t matter. She didn’t want to fight.
Light brightened from the bathroom little by little, candle by candle, and soft incantation followed. Moments later water sloshed faintly.
The spell of Everlasting Seas. A difficult spell to multiply the tiniest amount of water. Normally she’d have smiled, feeling proud every time she witnessed the fruit of her teachings, but tonight she couldn’t find it.
Yennefer came out of the room with rolled sleeves and wet hands. “It’s ready.”
Tissaia met Yennefer’s gaze with a somber one and Yennefer approached.
“Whatever you need, I’m here.”
Tissaia eyed the hands held out before her. Pity for the weak. That’s what this offering felt like. Tears welled in her gaze. She couldn’t hold back the emotion toiling within her for long.
“Tissaia.”
Yennefer said her name with more concern than usual, and a tear rolled down her cheek.
From everything lost, how could she remain?
“Tissaia, please.” Yennefer said with the softest plea.
She lifted her hand and Yennefer took it, then the other, helping her from the bedside to her feet.
They stopped. Yennefer didn’t lead her to the bath right away and Tissaia struggled to make the first move. She wanted to collapse, her throat growing sore from the lump she held back. She’d been more focused on fighting the intensifying quiver behind her lip.
A heavy silence settled around them.
Yennefer pulled her close and she leaned into the warmth in front of her as two arms encircled her.
This one person, her soul, always knew exactly when to return to her side.
She bunched Yennefer’s shirt in her fists and set her cheek to Yennefer’s chest. Beneath her ear, Yennefer’s heart thumped strong. That something so mundane made her emotion stir, she couldn’t say why.
That same emotion had led her astray too many times. For him she gave it another chance. Now everything lay destroyed because she dared to trust too deeply. Their comrades lay slain on Aretuzan ground and she couldn’t escape the metallic stench that saturated the halls.
“Why did you return?” Tissaia managed.
Yennefer should’ve fled Aretuza when she had the chance. It was the best choice to keep her safe.
Tissaia distanced herself from Yennefer's grasp with a solemn look, keeping her gaze down. She was much too comfortable in this embrace.
“I had to.”
Tissaia started to the bathroom. “…I can do this on my own.” She said the words she had to say, her tone weak with despair.
“I’ll wait here.” Yennefer said.
“Go help the others. They need you more than I.”
“…I’ll wait.”
Tissaia inwardly sighed at Yennefer’s stubbornness.
In the bathroom, water steamed from a cloth-lined wooden tub. She peeled off her dress with a grimace and let it drop to the floor. She took her hair down and eyed the long gold pin between her blackened fingertips. Her hands still quivered at the slightest exertion of pressure or strength, almost numb to the metal in her grasp. All as expected.
The initial lightning blast jolted throughout her body in a sudden surge. In its wake, a sensation of ants crawling under skin. Alzur’s Thunder was an unforgiving spell for even the most skilled mage. It required use of the caster’s entire body. In the thick of the moment her rage masked the most painful push, when she forced her chaos beyond its limit.
“You did what you had to.” Yennefer said from the other side of the wall.
A pallid reassurance. She didn’t need it.
Tissaia entered the bath and grimaced. Her back stung fiercely at the water’s first touch, but a wave of relief eased her as she settled. Yennefer heated the bath just right.
“You made the right call, for us. Aretuza can be repaired.”
Tissaia closed her eyes, sighing through a quiver in her lip.
Those arms. The strong grasp that caught her at her lowest. She needed it now. She wanted to dissolve in their embrace and disappear. But she hesitated. Yennefer would see her weak and bare for the first time. How would she react to the reality that the powerful Rectoress no longer existed? If she hadn’t already realized.
Rectoress of what? What was left for her to lead?
A non-existent Chapter.
A broken Brotherhood.
A shattered school with nothing left to give but scorched halls and bloody walls.
There was no point in maintaining the charade.
“You can come in…” She said against her better judgment.
Yennefer wasted no time taking the invitation. She rounded the corner but stopped mid-step the moment she laid eyes on the Tissaia.
“Something wrong?” Tissaia said, turning an ear over her shoulder.
Yennefer knelt at the head of the tub, eyeing Tissaia’s back. She hesitated to touch, but her body betrayed her mind, and her first two fingers pressed tentatively to Tissaia’s skin.
Tissaia stiffened at her first touch, then with a slow exhale she softened. “How bad is it?”
The cost of Alzur’s Thunder burned bright red and freshly marred across the Rectoress’ cream-colored skin. Yennefer studied the jagged scorch from the top of Tissaia’s right shoulder to her mid-back. She traced the perimeter of the scar with her thumb. It looked too painful to touch directly. It was different from any wound she’d ever seen inflicted on a person.
“Does it hurt?” She fought a sting behind her eyes.
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
That had to be a lie. Tissaia flinched at the lightest touch.
Yennefer carefully laid her hand against Tissaia’s back. She had to try something.
At her will, a weak glow emanated from her palm but it wavered and fizzled out before mending the scar. Yennefer took a deeper breath and closed her eyes. ‘Focus.’
She tried again. This time her chaos flickered before it died.
‘Tissaia needs you.’
She tried again but nothing came.
Tissaia first winced at Yennefer’s touch, thankful it was a soft one. A shock bolted through her; a fraction of the agony she inflicted from her own hands. A cruel and undeniable reminder. There was no doubt in her mind that the burn across her skin looked as bad as it felt.
A loss.
Yennefer’s fingertips meandered down her back and Tissaia’s jaw clenched at a new sensation.
She followed Yennefer’s touch to the top of the water, and her eyes watered the further it traveled down her back.
The burn was larger than she had anticipated. A cool rush entered her nose with her deep inhale as she willed her eyes to dry. This was punishment fit for her monstrous actions.
Silence settled between them, but the aura behind Tissaia wavered with growing distress.
“What is it?” Tissaia asked.
Those arms wrapped around her and a warm forehead pressed to her unmarred shoulder blade; Yennefer’s dark hair grazing along her arm as it cascaded down. Her ends wet where they touched the top of the water. Tissaia lifted her hand, gently grasping Yennefer’s protective embrace.
A weak sniffle touched her ear.
“Stop crying.” She said gentle but stern.
The room quieted but a warm trail streaked down Tissaia’s back.
“Yennefer…” Tissaia said softer than before.
Yennefer sat up and cleared her throat. “Give me your hands.” Yennefer said, her offered palms waiting face up over the water.
Tissaia eyed them for the longest time but didn’t move.
“Tissaia.” Yennefer said soft but pressing.
With a small sigh, Tissaia laid her smaller hands atop Yennefer’s, who closed them in her own and submerged their combined grasp. Beneath the water’s surface, a subtle white glow.
That was a good sign.
This time it had to work.
Again Yennefer commanded her chaos to serve, though its presence thinned with each second.
She pushed herself until her insides constricted. At a stab to her midsection, she sucked in a breath. Then another. Her teeth clenched together behind tightly pressed lips.
The longer she pushed, the more intense the pain came, like a metal vice clamped and crushing her side.
She slammed her eyes shut, thankful to conceal her initial jolt at the unwelcome pain. She hushed the shudders under her breath as much as she could. Tissaia didn’t need to know that she was ripping herself apart to will her last bit of chaos to grow. She strengthened her grasp under the water to compensate. If her hands started to shake Tissaia would know.
‘This better work.’
A warm stream flowed from her nostril and she opened her eyes to a half-healed burn along the Rectoress’ back. Its appearance a muted scar, less angry than before.
Directly beneath her gaze, crimson drops, fallen to the tub’s wooden edge.
She let go and wiped her nose.
“Are you done?”
Tissaia didn’t seem to notice the trouble in her chaos. A telling loss. The Rectoress of Aretuza was always quick to sense the littlest disturbance in the air.
‘It's not enough.’
Yennefer’s brow furrowed at the scar and she sat back on her heels, eyeing the crimson smear on the back of her hand for a long moment.
‘Blood. That’s what it wants. A greater sacrifice.’
“It feels better. Thank you.” Tissaia said gratefully and went to work cleaning her skin.
‘I can do more.’
It would only be a temporary set back for herself, but worth it if it made Tissaia whole. Yennefer turned over her wrist. She needed something sharp.
Her eyes darted around the room, until her gaze set on a gold hairpin lying with Tissaia’s discarded dress. She reached across the floor and grabbed it.
“Yennefer?”
The pin scraped the floor and Yennefer cursed her falter. She quietly retook her place behind the Rectoress, eying the pointed tip of the hairpin. She couldn’t make a sound.
Blood for chaos. Life for chaos. It would be painful but quick.
She conjured the spell in her mind with sharp focus. It wouldn’t work if her intentions didn’t seem true.
She bared the underside of her left wrist and pierced the hairpin into her skin, biting down hard to keep quiet as she opened a deep cut down to her palm. Her blood, dark crimson, flowed into her hand and she fought a wave of lightheadedness.
“Are you still there?” Tissaia tried to turn but Yennefer held her still.
Her blood dripped to the tile but she couldn’t risk Tissaia thwarting her chance, even as breaths deepened in her chest.
The healing spell wasn’t enough. If Tissaia was stronger, then perhaps it would’ve been sufficient. But no chaos stirred inside the fragile woman, and they needed their Rectoress. This was the least she could give to the woman who once gave her life a second chance.
Yennefer pulled the collar of her shirt open, using her finger to draw a Quen sign on her skin. A white glow around her heart, she could see it in her mind’s eye. Its protection manifested as a full sensation behind her chest wall.
If the spell failed, she still had a chance to live.
“Give me your hand.”
Yennefer’s voice came as a drained whisper. Gone any hope it held just moments earlier as Yennefer’s hand entered the water and felt for her own.
“What now?” Tissaia said, ignoring the fingers that brushed her thigh.
Another healing spell. This couldn’t go on forever. She hated to feel annoyed at Yennefer for trying, but her efforts were futile. They were both too weak for a full recovery. That’s why Yennefer submerged their hands, using the water as a natural catalyst to encourage the healing spell’s success, she presumed.
This one would fail too, but she didn’t pull her hand from Yennefer’s. If it satisfied Yennefer, she’d let her try again. She closed her eyes and leaned against the person behind her, like a small, helpless being. At least she could rest in the embrace, for a moment.
Heaviness settled over her, though her eyes watered even now at bitter memories. She was a fool to think she’d ever be able to rest freely again. All she saw behind her closed eyes were the pale, bloodied faces of her fellow mages.
“Aen Ichaer…” (From Elven blood…)
The last of her strength drew away from her body, and with it a dangerous but fleeting realization. Yennefer could take everything from her—what little was left. She could use chaos against her, kill her, overthrow her to become the next Rectoress of Aretuza. Though her title was cursed, now was the perfect time to commandeer her power, while she sat weak and naked.
“Aen mel…” (From love…)
Yennefer whispered against her skin, intertwining their fingers.
“Hanin…me bloed, me chaos…” (I give my blood, my chaos…)
Her eyes opened, half-lidded and heavy as a strange sensation stirred within her.
Beneath her gaze the water shone a summoned silver glow. She focused, trying to make out details through the ripple. This healing spell felt different. The glow imbued her veins and travelled up her arm, swelling in her chest first, then expanding throughout her body.
Like a stoking flame, it revitalized her and the heaviness within drifted.
Yennefer’s other hand took her left shoulder with a weighted clutch and Tissaia’s eyes opened fully. Something wasn’t right.
“M-Me fea…”(My soul…)
Yennefer seemed to struggle with the words.
“Yennefer?”
“Me fea tyen.”
Tissaia recalled the elven words and the ones before with widening eyes. The last line translated to “my soul to yours”.
She stiffened. This wasn’t a mere healing spell. It was a transfer of life. The Elven spell Thule Fea, breath of the soul.
“That’s enough.” Tissaia sat up sharply, trying to pull her hand from Yennefer’s grasp but Yennefer held firm and chaos spread through her like bittersweet rapture. She recognized the charged feeling and steeled her jaw to stifle the sound rising in her throat as her muscles tightened. She saw violet eyes in her mind’s eye, and more...
“Stop.” Tissaia said and grabbed Yennefer’s arm with her free hand.
To give ones own chaos to another, the cost was always life. The spell bridged two mages, siphoning years from one as it transferred life force to another, healing ailments while restoring youth and chaos. In small doses it could be safe. The giver might lose a few years. But if not carefully monitored, the giver would slip into a dazed state, unable to temper the loss of their chaos, and die.
“Stop.”
Yennefer slumped against her and Tissaia ripped her hand from Yennefer’s grasp, water sloshing violently at her pull.
A healing spell to mend the injury on her back and no more. That’s all she wanted to allow. She didn’t ask for this.
She turned quickly, not caring that the other would see her nakedness. Yennefer grabbed the rim of the tub and hung her head, her posture hunched. In Yennefer’s lap, a crimson hand she’d been hiding and her hairpin.
“Foolish girl.” Tissaia snatched Yennefer’s chin and lifted her gaze. Jaded and glassy violet eyes watched her unmovingly. In them her own sorrow reflected. She turned Yennefer’s face, searching for signs of new age, starts of lines, or creases in her skin. To her relief little had changed. She reached outside the tub and picked up Yennefer’s bloody hand, rinsing it in the bath water.
“Why would you do such a thing?”
She wrapped both her hands around Yennefer’s wrist and whispered a healing spell.
“You need it more than I.”
Awake. No, Alive. A small amount of her hope returned at the sight of Yennefer’s wrist mending, but she hesitated to feel grateful for the new power coursing through her body. The cost was too much to ask.
Her wet hands took Yennefer’s pale face tenderly. “After everything that’s happened, the last thing I need is for your life to end at the renewance of mine.”
Yennefer wrapped a weak arm around her and brought her close, letting their foreheads touch. “Your pain…is my pain.”
“No.” Tissaia pulled back. “Not this time.”
A glint of betrayal flashed through Yennefer’s gaze and the sorceress looked away.
Her touch grazed Yennefer’s cheek in an effort to bring her gaze back, but Yennefer pulled away.
“I’m fine.” Yennefer stood slow and started for the door. She stumbled against the threshold but steadied herself with an outstretched arm. With a groan she clutched the side of her head and trudged out of the room.
Tissaia held the rim of tub, clutching it, ready to stand from the water at Yennefer’s falter. Remembrance of her nakedness stopped her and she sunk back into the bath.
Yennefer would be okay. She’d check on her as soon as she finished.
With a sigh she wet her hair and relaxed against the back of the tub.
War waged within her as Yennefer’s chaos toiled inside of her, becoming her own. It trembled beneath her skin, like a flood of something impatient and volatile begging to be released.
She grasped the medallion around her neck, almost smiling at the veracity that colored Yennefer’s power.
A breath softly escaped from her mouth and a familiar urge worked its way down her body. She wanted something new—to feel Yennefer’s skin meshed with hers. Her hand clutched the rim of the tub as she swallowed an unwelcome wave of desire.
Of course. The unprovoked desire she felt was not only an inconvenience but a known effect of joining spells. Although temporary, it was one of the many reasons the class of spells was taboo. Transfer spells created a bond, though short-lived, it was powerful enough to breed false feelings of love and romance.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, putting her focus toward pushing her chaos to every lingering ache and sting in her body.
Yennefer collapsed on her knees, cradling her midsection. She trembled fiercely and doubled over.
She scoffed at her inferiority.
Tissaia stood and walked through this very agony, but how, Yennefer wondered.
She planted a hand to the rug beneath her and tried to push herself up. She had to get to her feet, but the world closed in with each exerted effort. Her stomach twisted and soured. Pulsing heat rushed through her like a warning of something worse to come.
She struggled to gain her footing.
On all fours, with a horrendous pressure expanding from temple to temple, she crawled and reached for the nearest surface.
Her fingers clenched tapestry and she hoisted herself up.
Darkness sought her, and she readied herself to succumb. Relief from this pain, that’s all she wanted, and the darkness told her her desire was close to fruition.
Her heart pounded in her ears between each struggled effort to climb atop the surface. At her effort’s peak she finally flattened, collapsed, and sunk into plush surroundings.
‘Let it come.’
Her eyes closed.