#wff2022

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #28 - Scream

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

She strides down the winding hallway towards her private chambers, rolling her eyes at Vilgefortz’ continued presence behind her, even though she’d told him she wanted to be alone. “All I’m saying is that you need to rest, and perhaps with a clearer head, you’ll-”

She stops walking and turns to look at him. “I’ll what?” She knows what he’s going to say. He’s been saying it since before they even left the battlefield. 

He puts his hands on her shoulders and she has to stop herself from physically shuddering at the touch. “You’ll finally admit to yourself what you know in your heart to be true.”

“Which is what?” she presses.

He sighs. “That Yennefer is dead.”

“I’ll do no such thing,” Tissaia says, shrugging his hands off and resuming her previous walking pace. “Until I see evidence of her death, I-”

“You’ve seen no evidence that she’s alive,” he protests, still trailing her. 

“It’s barely been a week since we’ve returned,” Tissaia says, stopping in front of the door to her chambers. “I will continue to search for her until I have exhausted every avenue.” She looks up at him, willing her chin not to wobble. “I owe her at least that much. We all owe her that after what she did.”

“Tissaia,” he begins, looking at her in that condescending way that makes her skin crawl. “I know the girl was special to you for some-”

“I’m tired,” Tissaia interrupts, unwilling to continue a conversation in which he discusses Yennefer in the past tense. “And I wish to be alone.”

“Very well.” He nods, then tilts his head. “I do not say these things to hurt you. I only want you to stop denying what is obvious and allow yourself to grieve and move on.” 

“Move on,” she says, with a bitter laugh. She shakes her head. “Oh how easy you make it sound. As if I’ve had an unsatisfying meal.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” he says. “I don’t mean to diminish your feelings for the girl. I just-”

“Please, leave me in peace,” Tissaia says, closing her eyes. “I have listened to quite enough of this already.”

He nods and turns to leave. She watches him go, unwilling to open the door until he is a good distance away in case he turns back and follows her in. Once his footsteps have grown soft she turns back to the door but before she can do anything, she is grabbed roughly from behind and a hand is pressed across her mouth.

She readies herself to blast her attacker, when a familiar voice speaks right beside her ear.

“Don’t scream. And don’t fucking throw me through the wall either.”

Tissaia stops struggling, going limp against the body behind her. “Yennefer?” The word is muffled by the grimy hand still covering her mouth.

“Yes,” Yennefer says, loosening her grip enough to allow Tissaia to turn. 

When she does, she’s greeted with the most glorious sight she’s ever seen. Yennefer is alive and mostly unscathed, although she could definitely do with a bath and some sleep. Unable to help herself, Tissaia pulls her close, wrapping her arms as tightly as she can around her. Yennefer half collapses against her, clearly exhausted. Tissaia pulls back and takes Yennefer’s face in her hands, looking into the eyes she feared she’d never see again. For all her bravado in front of Vilgefortz, she had, of course, considered the possibility Yennefer might be dead.

“You’re alive,” Tissaia says, warm tears spilling from her eyes.

“Just about,” Yennefer says, with a tired smile. “I hear you’ve missed me.”

Tissaia laughs, sliding a hand behind Yennefer’s neck and drawing her in so their foreheads touch. She closes her eyes. “A little,” she says. She frowns. Something is off about Yennefer, something she should have realised straight away when she was able to surprise her so thoroughly.

“Are you cuffed?” she asks, stepping back and pushing the cloak Yennefer is wearing aside to check her wrists for dimeritium. “Where is it?”

Yennefer catches her hand and holds it in both of her own. She shakes her head. “I’m not cuffed. I-” She nods to the door. “Can we go inside? I don’t want anyone overhearing this conversation.” She smiles that tired smile again. “And I’ve been travelling for days and fear I might fall down if I don’t sit down soon.”

“Oh, of course!” Tissaia quickly undoes the enchantment on the door and ushers Yennefer inside and into an armchair by the fire. Unwilling to put any distance between them, Tissaia arranges her skirts and sits on the floor at Yennefer’s feet, holding her hand. “Tell me what’s happened?”

Blowing out a breath, Yennefer squeezes her hand. “In brief, I was captured by Fringilla, then we were both captured by elves. Myself, Fringilla and an elven sorceress called Francesca were all having odd dreams about a cloaked figure. I read an inscription on an altar and all three of us ended up in the woods in front of a house on legs-”

“The deathless mother,” Tissaia whispers. “I thought she had been banished to another realm centuries ago.”

“No, she’s quite real. She appeared to me as a young girl at first,” Yennefer says. “She- she could tell that I’d lost my magic at Sodden.” She looks down at their joined hands. “Called me ‘Piglet’ once or twice.” She laughs, softly. “I thought it was some younger version of you that I’d conjured up in my mind but…then she showed me her true form.” She sighs. “She feeds off despair, Tissaia. She wants me to be desperate, wants me to beg her to return my magic. And I-” She meets Tissaia’s eyes. “I’m scared that I’ll do just that.”

“No,” Tissaia shakes her head firmly. “You’ve made no deal with her, no bargain, so you are not beholden to her in any way.” She squeezes Yennefer’s hand. “And if she offered to return your magic to you, then it must be possible to get it back.” She smiles up at Yennefer. “We will find a way, I promise.” 

Yennefer nods, and a tear makes its way down her cheek. “That’s why I came straight here,” she says. “I knew if you couldn’t-” Without warning she slides from the chair until she’s on the floor as well. She rests her head on Tissaia’s shoulder, her forehead pressed to her neck. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Tissaia wraps her arms around Yennefer as best she can in the position they’re in and closes her eyes. “I won’t let any harm come to you,” she swears. “You’re safe now.”

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #27 - Baths

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

Yennefer is sitting by the fire with Ciri, chatting about the lesson they had just finished, when a noise like a panicked horse barging through the nearby woodland silences them. They look up just in time to see Jaskier emerge into the clearing, obviously agitated over something.

His eyes land on Yennefer and widen. He points a finger at her.

"You! This is your fault," he says. "She wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you!"

"What are you-" She realises a second too late that he's talking about Tissaia. She sighs. "What did you do now?"

"What did I do?" Jaskier splutters, clearly aghast at the mere suggestion that he has done wrong. "I merely offered my assistance to the lady. As she is not used to such rough living, I thought she might appreciate a helping hand." He shakes his head. "Next thing I know I'm upside down, suspended by my ankles from some spectral hand!"

Ciri hides a laugh behind a cough, and Jaskier narrows his eyes at her.

"This isn't the whole story," Yennefer says. "What kind of help did you offer her?"

He falters a little, his bravado slipping. He plants his hands on his hips and lifts his chin. "I happened upon her bathing in the river and I simply asked if she needed help scrubbing her difficult to reach areas."

This time Ciri's laughter isn't at all disguised, and Yennefer has difficulty keeping a straight face.

"You seriously asked if you could scrub Tissaia's back for her?" Ciri asks. "You should be grateful she didn't turn you into a toad!"

"My thoughts exactly, Ciri," Yennefer says, as she stands and dusts her hands on her skirts. "Tissaia De Vries is a proud woman, Jaskier. Insinuating that she needs help completing simple tasks is not going to win you her favour."

"Well she has no need to worry, because I shan't be offering my services again," Jaskier huffs, folding his arms over his chest. "She can scrub her own-"

"Let's-" Yennefer interrupts. "-not discuss any of Tissaia's body parts, shall we? The woman has hearing like a bat and as Ciri said, could turn you into something very unpleasant without moving a finger."

Jaskier looks around, like Tissaia might appear from any angle at any second. But he at least shuts up. "The two of you can get dinner started," Yennefer says, heading in the direction Jaskier had come from. "I'll be back shortly."

She makes her way through the trees until she emerges on the riverbank. Sure enough she spots Tissaia seated in a small pool being fed by a gentle waterfall off to the side of the main flow of the river. She's rinsing her hair, and the light catching on the droplets make her look like some water sprite or other magical being. Yennefer's breath catches in her throat at how beautiful she is. Then guilt settles in her chest, because she knows Tissaia's only having to bathe in rivers because of her.

She sighs and kicks off her boots, holding her skirts up she seats herself on a rock at the pool's edge and lowers her feet into the cool water.

"You frightened the life out of Jaskier," Yennefer says, when Tissaia emerges from beneath the water, her hair dark and shiny and slicked down her back.

"I could have done worse," Tissaia points out. "Did he tell you-"

"Yes," Yennefer says, with a smile. "He told me what he said. I was surprised you left him with his manhood intact."

Tissaia hums an agreement. Running a pitiful sliver of soap over her shoulder and down her arm. Yennefer watches for another few moments, before she can keep her silence no longer.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "That this is your life now." She shakes her head, looking down into the clear water and wiggling her toes. "I'm sorry that you-"

"Yennefer," Tissaia says. "Look at me." Powerless to do anything but obey, Yennefer looks up. Tissaia smiles. "I made a choice. One I should have made a long time ago instead of trying to fight against the corrupt and self-serving body the Chapter had become." She glides across the pool and lays a wet hand on Yennefer's bare knee. "I chose you. And I am content with that choice."

With a nervous laugh, Yennefer covers Tissaia's hand with her own, squeezing gently. "So you don't miss hot steaming baths with scented oils?"

"Oh, my dear," Tissaia says, tilting her head. "Have you forgotten who we are?" The air shimmers with chaos and the water Yennefer's legs are dangling in starts to grow warm. The air around them fills with so many exotic scents that Yennefer struggles to identify them. Tissaia's thumb rubs at her knee. "If we want luxury, we can have it."

"Such a frivolous use of chaos, Rectoress," Yennefer murmurs, moving her hand to Tissaia's cheek, framing her jaw. "What kind of example is this to set for Ciri?"

"Ciri's not here," Tissaia points out. "And we are allowed a little indulgence, every so often."

"Not nearly often enough," Yennefer says, as her clothes melt away and leave her bare, preening at the catch in Tissaia's breath.

She uses the hand on Tissaia's face to urge her closer, and up out of the water until she stands between Yennefer's legs. Her warm, wet breasts brush against Yennefer's as they look into each other's eyes before their mouths and bodies meet completely. Yennefer hears a moan escape her own throat as Tissaia's belly presses against her core. She shivers as a light breeze passes over them and Tissaia pulls away, taking her hands and leading her into the pool until their shoulders are covered. Yennefer tugs Tissaia into her arms, pressing her lips to her neck, just below her ear and leaving them to rest upon the skin there as she closes her eyes and appreciates the moment.

"So," she mumbles against wet skin. "Do you need help attending to your difficult to reach areas?"

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #26 - Princess

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

A wee follow on from this one.

Yennefer had insisted she stay the night after expending herself so thoroughly. Tissaia had suspected that, in addition to the opportunity for rest, Yennefer also appreciated having a familiar face around. Whatever’s going on between her and Geralt, there’s a good amount of animosity sitting in the air whenever they’re in the same room.

One night had turned into two, and now a week has passed without Tissaia returning to Aretuza. She thinks of Vilgefortz and how angry he will be that she disappeared without so much as a by your leave. She thinks of her girls, of Triss and the look of betrayal on her face the last time she saw her. She will need to mend that relationship before she loses the girl forever. She thinks of the Chapter and their machinations, without her there to temper the more ambitious of them. But, for now, she is content to stay at this draughty old keep, with Yennefer near and whole again.

She has kept herself occupied by carrying out an inventory of the Witchers’ potion lab, which is rudimentary, but well stocked. Many of the bottles and containers were unlabelled, which Tissaia knows from experience to be a recipe for disaster where there are young sorceresses involved. So she methodically checks every bottle’s contents, labelling as she goes and recording amounts in a ledger. She’s sure these brutish men won’t keep it up after she goes, but with any luck the Princess will learn good habits and take it over. 

She is sitting by the fire in the laboratory, reading over the ledger and checking for counting errors, when the door opens and the object of her thoughts barges in, rolling her eyes, trailed by Yennefer who is ranting about maintaining focus. Tissaia has to press her lips together to keep from laughing at the irony. 

“Yes, Yennefer,” Ciri says with a sigh. “I heard you the first half dozen times or so.”

“Did you?” Yennefer asks. “Because I couldn’t tell from that sloppy casting stance you kept adopting over and over.”

“I’m tired,” Ciri whines. “I was training with Lambert and Coën all day yesterday and then you had me up at the crack of dawn to do things I can already do!”

Yennefer shakes her head and turns to Tissaia, all pouting lips and imploring eyes. “Will you tell her what happens to arrogant little sorceresses who don’t listen to their Mistress?” she demands.

Tissaia’s lips twitch as she looks up at Ciri. “Sometimes they grow up into arrogant big sorceresses who don’t listen to their Mistress.”

Ciri’s frown melts into a conspiratorial smile and Yennefer throws up her hands. 

“I give up!” 

She slopes over to Tissaia and slumps to the floor, her back against Tissaia’s legs, and drops her head back into her lap, eyes closed. Tissaia threads her fingers into Yennefer’s hair, scratching at her scalp.

“What was Yennefer like as a student?” Ciri asks and Yennefer’s head shoots up.

“I was a model student,” Yennefer says, before Tissaia can interject. “Diligent, punctual and-”

“Really?” Ciri looks to Tissaia, wrinkling her nose at this disappointing turn of events.

Don’t you dare tell her what I was like. I need her to behave!

Tissaia hides her smile, running her forefinger over the curve of Yennefer’s ear. “It’s true,” she confirms. “Yennefer was an immensely skilled young sorceress who, once she’d settled down, always put maximum effort into perfecting whichever skills she had learned.” 

Ciri sighs, her shoulders dropping. Tissaia purses her lips.

“However,” she continues. “She had her moments.” Yennefer twists her neck, frowning. “Once, for example, she turned a classmate’s hair blue.”

Yennefer shakes her head, turning back to Ciri. “Unfortunately for me, Sabrina can make anything work and it rather suited her.” She sighs. “And Tissaia had me write out ‘I mustn’t change the colour of Sabrina’s hair without her permission’ one thousand times. Without the aid of magic. So if you’re not careful, I’ll have Tissaia take over your lessons, then you’ll learn the meaning of ‘strict’!”

Ciri hums. “Yes, I can see you’re quite terrified of her,” she comments, lifting her eyebrows as she looks meaningfully at the position they are in and Tissaia’s face flushes with warmth that doesn’t come from the fire. 

“I can assure you I wouldn’t have done this when I was your age,” Yennefer says. “She’d likely have incinerated me if I’d tried.” She tips her head back again and smiles up at Tissaia. “It’s only recently she’s shown me her softer side.”

“Well,” Ciri says, heading for the door. “I’m going to get something to eat. Then we can do more casting stances if you want.”

“I’ll meet you in the yard,” Yennefer calls after her. She lets out a breath and closes her eyes. “How the fuck do you do this with a dozen of the little fuckers at once?”

Tissaia lets out a gentle laugh and leans down to press a kiss to Yennefer’s forehead. “Centuries of experience, dear.”

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #25 - Chains

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

Tissaia grits her teeth, trying to keep her temper under control.

"Will you stop struggling?" she says, impressed that her voice is fairly even.

"At least I'm doing something," Yennefer says. "I'm not just sitting here, waiting to die." And she continues to wriggle and shift, trying to find a way to escape the dimeritium chains that bind them together.

"Every time you move, the chains dig further into me," Tissaia explains.

Yennefer stills. "Sorry," she mumbles. "I didn't realise." She sighs. "What the fuck are we going to do?"

"There's nothing we can do," Tissaia says, craning her neck to try and ascertain the time from the light coming through the window. "We must simply wait."

The full weight of Yennefer's head thunks against her own as she lets it drop backwards. Tissaia, once again, grits her teeth and makes no comment.

"I know you're dying to say something," Yennefer says. "Come on, then. Let me have it."

"I don't know what you mean," Tissaia says.

"You want to say 'I told you so' at the very least," Yennefer continues. "And maybe also 'It's your fault we're locked in a dungeon, in dimeritium chains, waiting for execution'." She sighs. "Go on, say it."

"I don't think that would do any good right now, would it?" Tissaia comments. She sighs. "And you seem to be well aware that it's your fault."

Yennefer laughs, then grows quiet. "I'm sorry," she says, finally. "I should have listened to you. We shouldn't have come in hard. We should have tried diplomacy first."

"Yes, we should have," Tissaia agrees.

"I'm sorry," Yennefer repeats. "You're only here because of me. I should have insisted on coming in alone."

"I wouldn't have let you," Tissaia says. "So you can strike that from your list of things to feel guilty about."

"I was so stupid," Yennefer says. "I just-" She sighs. "I just wanted to show you I could do it my way."

"I know," Tissaia says. "But you'll learn from this the next time you are in a similar situation, so it hasn't been a total loss."

"Next time?" Yennefer barks. "We're about to die."

Tissaia hums, smiling as she sees one of the large stones in their cell wall begin to vibrate. "Perhaps not."

"Wh-" Yennefer tries to twist to see her, forgetting their situation, and Tissaia grunts at the pain as the chains bite into her abdomen and chest. "Sorry. What do you mean 'perhaps not'? You said yourself, there's nothing we can do but wait."

"Indeed," Tissaia agrees. "But others aren't quite so restricted in what they're able to do." A whole section of the wall is now glowing blue, the large stones gradually working their way free. "In fact, I'm fairly certain a rescue is imminent."

"A resc-"

The wall explodes, leaving a gap large enough for a person to get through. Tissaia turns her face into her shoulder, trying to escape the worst of the dust. She can feel Yennefer coughing behind her. When she looks up, the dust is beginning to settle, revealing a figure in a blue cloak. Yennefer is straining against her, twisting her neck. The figure takes her hood down and smiles.

"Hello, Sabrina," Tissaia says. "Just in time."

"Fuck," Yennefer whispers. "I'll never live this down."

"Nice to see you too, Yennefer," Sabrina says, extracting a set of bolt cutters from beneath her cloak and moving closer to them. "I thought you'd be thrilled to see me."

"How did you even know we were here?" Yennefer asks.

"I asked Sabrina to stand by," Tissaia admits. "Just in case-"

"Just in case I fucked everything up," Yennefer interrupts. "Your faith in me is astounding, Tissaia."

Sabrina clears her throat and gestures to the situation they're in.

"Yes, yes," Yennefer concedes. "Fine. Just get us out."

Sabrina exchanges an amused glance with Tissaia then gets to work cutting their chains. The release of the pressure is welcome and Tissaia rubs at her arms and her chest, relieved when her access to chaos returns fully. She turns to find Yennefer stretching her arms above her head, groaning at the stiffness in her muscles.

"What, no kiss for your dashing rescuer Yen?" Sabrina pouts, and Tissaia rolls her eyes. These two will take every opportunity to taunt one another.

Never one to back down from a challenge, Yennefer matches over to Sabrina and plants a kiss on her lips. She pulls back and glares at her.

"That's for rescuing Tissaia. Now let's get the fuck out of here."

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #24 - Hut Hut

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

Pandemonium is how she would describe the situation after Yennefer makes her flaming exit from the ruins. Vilgefortz and Artorius immediately go to the monarchs, to calm the situation. Stregobor snipes to whoever will listen that he knew something like this would happen. Sabrina meets Tissaia's eyes and gives her a small smile and a nod, which Tissaia returns. The plan had worked perfectly. But even knowing Yennefer is safer away from this place, these people, does not calm the rage in Tissaia's chest at being cheated.

Leaving the others to deal with the mayhem, Tissaia retreats into what must once have been a vestry, affording herself some privacy.

Rather than give in to the tears that threaten to spill, she speaks the words she had hoped never to have need for again.

"Behold the mother of forests." Tissaia sniffs and lifts her head. "The Deathless Mother nesting in dreams." With a shaky sigh, she completes the incantation. "Turn your back to the forest, hut, hut."

And then she's back in the dark shack. Unlike the first time she'd visited, her companion does not look like Yennefer. Instead, a wizened old crone stands before her, smiling like she had invited her for tea.

"Skylark," she says, oozing false warmth. "I didn't expect you back so soon, you'll forgive me for not looking quite so…attractive as I did the last time you were here."

"That's not my name," Tissaia says, pulling herself up to her full height and linking her hands at her waist. "And this was not what I asked for."

The old woman tilts her head, affecting confusion. "Your girl was returned to you, was she not?" she asks. "Alive and well, no less."

"And then taken away again in the same breath," Tissaia protests. "She was barely back for two days."

The demon's eyes harden now, a deep red glowing within them. "What did you do to keep her?"

"I-" Tissaia hesitates. "I could not…the Brotherhood demanded-"

"Why did you not go with her?" The eyes change again, this time to an infinite black, stretching out for leagues.

"I cannot simply abandon my post," Tissaia argues. "I have spent centuries building Aretuza to its current-"

"You would not risk your reputation to stand up for her," the demon concludes. "Nor lose your standing in order to go with her." Tissaia's chest turns to ice at hearing herself so accused. "You are a proud woman, Skylark. Proud of your achievements, proud of your title, proud of yourself. And that pride will be your downfall."

Tissaia inhales through her nose, lifting her chin. "How could a proud woman prostrate herself at your feet, begging for your help?"

"Oh, I didn't say there weren't chinks in your armour," the demon says, walking around the large cauldron to stand directly in front fo Tissaia. She reaches up to touch her chin, her fingers are cold and Tissaia turns her face away from them, only to have it roughly jerked back round. "You love this girl enough to make a deal with me, yet you do nothing to keep hold of her when you get her back. That is none of my concern. What does matter to me is what I am due in return."

Tissaia shakes her head. "Our bargain was-"

"Our bargain was that I would bring your girl back to you-" Her grip on Tissaia's chin tightens. "-and you would bring me the key." Tissaia grits her teeth against the pain, but can't stop tears springing to her eyes. The demon smiles. "You should know better than most, Skylark, that bargaining with the devil rarely works out well."

The pressure on her jaw is released and she gasps. When she looks up, the old woman is back on the other side of the room. Tissaia shakes her head.

"She's just a child."

"We both know that she's much more than that."

Even if she agrees, she can just not pursue the girl. It won't be difficult to-

"It's such a shame that a sorceress of your standing does not afford me the respect I deserve," the old woman says, her voice echoing around the room now. "Do you not think I hear your treacherous thoughts?"

"And what if I don't bring you the girl?" Tissaia asks. "You'll kill me?" She shrugs. "Then kill me. I have lived long enough."

"Oh no, my dear. I will break your spirit." The air shimmers and the old woman is gone, in her place stands Yennefer, as beautiful and perfect as Tissaia has ever seen her. When she speaks again, it's with Yennefer's voice. "I will seek out everything that matters to you in this world." A knife appears her in her hand and she lays the blade flat on Yennefer's wrist, beside the prominent scar.

"No," Tissaia says, but finds she can't move. The demon with Yennefer's face turns the knife over, the cutting edge now pressed to skin. "No!" Tissaia screams.

"And I will destroy it." She drags the knife along the thin skin of Yennefer's wrist, blood spurting out of the severed artery.

Tissaia closes her eyes, tells herself it isn't real, but she can't unsee it. Something warm and wet touches her chin and forces her to look up. She opens her eyes and finds herself looking at Yennefer's face, twisted in an unfamiliar smile.

"And when you are truly broken, I will drink your despair like a fine wine," the demon whispers, leaning in and pressing Yennefer's lips to Tissaia's.

In a blink, Tissaia finds herself back in the ruined abbey, on her knees and sobbing. She presses a hand to her chest, trying to hold the pain inside, trying to not feed the demon.

But she knows what she must do. She must deliver the girl to the demon, no matter the cost. Or Yennefer will pay the price for Tissaia's folly.

----

Written because this parallel has always intrigued me.

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #23 - Legacy

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

Over the clang and roar of the battle, through the muck and the blood, the world narrows to a single point.

A familiar set of violet eyes, filled with pain and betrayal.

“Yennefer,” Tissaia whispers, dismayed to find that the rumours that had been circulating were indeed true. Yennefer is travelling, and fighting, with Cirilla of Cintra. 

A single tear runs down Yennefer’s dirt streaked cheek and Tissaia throws up her arms, effectively bringing the commotion to a halt. Soldiers stop mid thrust, dying men freeze with their last scream twisting their lips, even the birds hang in the sky, wings outstretched. The only people still aware and mobile are Tissaia herself, Yennefer, Geralt and Cirilla.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Geralt immediately moves in front of Yennefer and the princess, his bloody sword extended towards Tissaia’s throat. 

“No! Geralt,” Yennefer says, but Tissaia has already frozen his body in place, leaving his head free. He struggles against the magical restraint but Tissaia is no ordinary sorceress and his little Witcher spells will be of no use to him now.

“You’re with them,” Yennefer says, stepping in front of Geralt and nodding to the Temerian soldiers. “How could you? She’s a fucking child.”

“You know as well as I do that she’s no mere child,” Tissaia says, her eyes straying to Cirilla, watching warily from just behind Yennefer’s shoulder. “Her power is unlike anything the Continent has seen in centuries.”

“And that’s a death sentence, is it?” Geralt spits, still struggling. “Fuck you.”

Tissaia lifts her chin. “I never wanted her dead, or harmed, just-”

“Contained,” Yennefer sneers. “Under your thumb, like the rest of us.” She laughs, but it’s harsh. 

“Yennefer,” Tissaia says, taking a step towards her now. Yennefer steps back, an arm going out to shield Cirilla. Tissaia stops, folding her hands at her waist. “I mean the girl no harm. But Triss saw-”

“I know what Triss saw,” Yennefer says. “She saw one possible outcome, if Ciri was left alone, unable to control her power.” She shakes her head. “But with help, with guidance, she could save the world just as easily as she could destroy it.”

Tissaia closes her eyes. “It’s true, fate can be altered. But-”

“Yes! Exactly!” Yennefer steps forward now and grasps Tissaia’s upper arms. “You know more than most about altering the course of a life.” Yennefer tilts her head, her forehead creased. “One person is all it takes, one single moment. You were that person for me, Tissaia. Let me be that person for Ciri. If you ever cared about me-.”

“She does care about you,” Cirilla says, her gaze boring into Tissaia’s. “We met her at Sodden. She was heartbroken.”

Yennefer looks at her, and Tissaia sees that frightened girl she first met, waiting to hear a denial. She lifts a shaking hand to Yennefer’s cheek, drawing her closer until their foreheads meet. 

“I need you to trust me, Tissaia. I need you to trust that I can do this,” Yennefer whispers. “Can you do that? Please?”

“Oh, my dear girl,” Tissaia murmurs. For all she has asked of Yennefer in the past, she owes her this. “Yes. Yes, I trust you.” She pulls back, framing Yennefer’s face with her hands. She glances at Cirilla and smiles. “I told you once that you had so much left to give to the world,” she says. “Perhaps this is your legacy.”

“Yes,” Yennefer says. “I was meant to do this, I feel it.”

Tissaia nods. “Very well.” She allows herself a moment of weakness, leaning in to press her lips to Yennefer’s forehead before stepping back. She wipes at the tears that have fallen and sniffs. With a wave of her hand, she frees Geralt and he stumbles forward, grunting. “Take them and go,” Tissaia tells Yennefer. 

“What about you?” Yennefer says. “They’ll know you let us escape.”

“Yes,” Tissaia says. “But this mess is of my own making, so I must face its consequences.” She swallows and tries to smile. “I will do my utmost to ensure that you are no longer pursued. Now go.”

“You heard her,” Geralt says. “Call a portal.”

“No.” Yennefer shakes her head. She grabs Tissaia’s arm. “You’ll- they’ll-” She huffs in frustration. “I’m not leaving you here to face a fucking army and several pissed off monarchs.”

Tissaia sighs. “Princess Cirilla,” she says, shifting her gaze to the girl. “Call a portal, please. Go somewhere safe.”

Cirilla looks to Geralt, but Yennefer spins to face her. “Don’t you fucking dare. We need to think of a plan and-”

Several things happen at once. From the side of her eye, Tissaia notices Geralt giving Cirilla a signal of some kind. The next thing she knows, she’s being thrown over Geralt’s shoulder while he takes off at a run. Then Yennefer is dangling from his other shoulder, shrieking and swearing and battering at his back with her fists. They pass through a magical gateway that feels entirely different to any portal Tissaia has ever used and it leaves her a little dizzy. 

“What the fuck, Geralt?” Yennefer shouts as he sets them both on their feet, before he bends at the waist and vomits. 

“I fucking hate portals,” he grunts, wiping his mouth.

“It’s about time!” An unfamiliar voice pipes up. “We were supposed to meet here two days ago!” Tissaia turns to find a man in a long leather coat and an impractical hat appraising her. “And we’ve acquired a very attractive friend, I see.” He takes her hand and bows deeply, kissing her knuckles and grinning up at her. “Jaskier, at your service, my lady.”

She yanks her hand free of his just as Cirilla throws herself into his arms. Tissaia shakes her head and turns to where Yennefer and Geralt are having an argument.

“What have you done?” she demands. “Now the Northern Kingdoms, and the Brotherhood, will assume I absconded with you!”

“How’s that any worse than them thinking you let us escape?” Yennefer challenges. “Either way, you were fucked. At least this way-” She stops, pressing her lips together.

“What?” Tissaia asks. “At least this way I can live in a forest and fight off the attention of your amorous friend?”

“Better than a jail cell,” Geralt says.

“I was going to say,” Yennefer begins, with a sigh. “That at least this way, we’re together.”

Tissaia rubs her face. “And that’s supposed to be some consolation to me is it?” 

Yennefer lifts her eyebrows, the edges of her lips quirking upwards. “Well, isn’t it?”

As much as she tries, Tissaia can’t fight the smile that wants to emerge in return. She rolls her eyes. “Perhaps.”

---

Clearly I just took the bullet points out of this post.

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #22 - Elder

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

Inspired by these gifs.

Geralt struggles for breath, his legs kicking as he grips the claw slowly tightening around his throat. He keeps his gaze averted from the screeching monster, lest he be turned to stone. It had surprised him as he was washing in the river, separated from his weapons. Just as he thinks this might be his end, alone and in a fucking swamp, the creature shrieks and then gurgles.

He looks down and sees a silver sword protruding from its throat, dripping in blood. The grip on his throat loosens and he's dropped to the ground just as the monster slumps at his feet. He looks up to find Tissaia eyeing him with concern as she yanks her sword out of the cockatrice's back.

"Thanks," Geralt says, accepting the arm she offers him to pull him up. He wraps his arms around her much shorter form, closing his eyes.

"It's been too long, brother," she mumbles into his shoulder. She pulls away and nods to the dead monster. "And you're getting sloppy."

"Or just old and slow," Geralt says, rubbing his neck as they head back to his campfire, Tissaia wiping down her sword as they walk. "It's good to see you, little sister."

"I'm older than you are," Tissaia says, narrowing her golden eyes.

"But still little," Geralt reminds her. They sit down against a log by the fire. Geralt notes that Tissaia has a horse tethered nearby. "You headed home for the winter? We could travel together."

Tissaia looks away and hums. "I'm not going back this year."

"No? You didn't come home last year either." He pulls some bread and dried meat from his saddlebag and unwraps it. "Something keeping you away?"

She takes the food he offers her and sets it in her lap, looking down at it so that her white hair hides her face. There's a pause where he knows she's deciding whether or not to tell him her reasons for not returning. Tissaia was a young witcher when he was brought to Kaer Morhen and she always looked after him and the other boys in ways that Vesemir couldn't. She was a mother to them, then a sister, and then a friend.

He doesn't push her for answers. He knows that she'll tell him if she wants to. They eat in silence for a few minutes until Tissaia clears her throat.

"I have a…predicament," she says, finally. "With a sorceress."

Geralt doesn't bother to hide his smile. "You always did have a soft spot for sorceresses."

"Yes, well," she sighs, picking at her food. "This one's different."

"How?" Geralt asks.

"Because this one I-" She looks over at him. "I love."

Geralt blows out a breath. "Well, fuck."

"Yes," Tissaia agrees. "Fuck."

"Does she feel the same?" Geralt asks, knowing that might be the problem. Witchers aren't the easiest people to love.

"I think so," Tissaia says, she sighs, closing her eyes. "Yes. Yes, she does."

"What's the predicament?"

"She wants a child," Tissaia says, simply. "And you know I won't bring a child into this life." She shrugs. "So it seems hopeless. And yet…I can't stay away from her."

Geralt thinks of his own child surprise. He's not sure how much longer he'll be able to outrun destiny, but he can appreciate Tissaia's stance; no child should be subjected to this life.

"What's she like?" he asks.

Tissaia lets out a soft laugh. "What's she like?" she murmurs. "Describing her would be like describing the wind, or the stars." She looks over at him, the firelight making her eyes glow. "She's elemental. Vital. Easier to catch than she is to hold. But impossible to forget." She sighs. "She has violet eyes that you could drown in." She smirks. "And a tongue that can make you forget your own name."

"She sounds like trouble," he notes, smiling. "Just your type."

"The best ones are always worth the trouble," Tissaia says, her smile falling as she stares into the fire.

He nods. They lapse back into companionable silence.

[thegirl20]

WFF Prompt #21 - Hero

From @bamf-jaskier‘s list of prompts.  

All filled prompts are on AO3.

As Artorius and Vilgefortz make the opening remarks, Tissaia's eyes never leave Yennefer. It pains her to see the once proud mage look so cowed and small. Everything about her is withdrawn. Her shoulders are hunched, her head bowed. Even her hair is tamed, locked away inside a tight bun, the like of which Tissaia has never seen her wear before.

Everything about her looks…defeated.

For a month, Tissaia had searched, and hoped, and prayed, that Yennefer would be returned to her. But she had never considered that the Yennefer that came back would be a shell of her former self. As if losing her magic had not been enough to bear, now they are to force her to kill a man as part of a spectacle.

Vilgefortz stops speaking and turns to her with a small nod. She inhales and starts to speak.

"Vanielle of Brugge."

The list of the dead comes to her easily. She sees it in her dreams. It is etched on her heart. Every single person on the list fought and died in a battle that she took them to. She will honour them until the day she dies.

She recites them faithfully, giving each name a moment to sit in the air before moving to the next.

"Lytta Neyd. Yoël Grethen."

Her breath catches as her mind's eye takes her back to the engraving on that tablet. To the name she had not wanted to carve.

Yennefer of Vengerberg.

In the periphery of her vision, she sees Vilgefortz start to move back into the centre, to speak about the execution, but she keeps talking.

"Until very recently, there was another name on that list," she says, keeping her eyes forward, though she knows Vilgefortz and the other members of the Brotherhood are looking at her. She steps forward, and glances to the left, catching Yennefer's eye briefly. "Yennefer of Vengerberg, single-handedly turned the tide of the Battle of Sodden in favour of the Northern Kingdoms."

Tissaia what are you-

She blocks Vilgefortz from her mind and carries on. "She was feared dead after the battle, but has recently, mercifully, been returned to us."

She turns fully now and holds a hand out to Yennefer. Yennefer obediently approaches, taking Tissaia's hand in her own and squeezing it.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she mumbles, and Tissaia smiles, returning her attention to the gathered crowd.

"Tonight, we honour and thank her." She lifts Yennefer's arm in the air. "The Saviour of Sodden!"

The monarchs hold their goblets aloft and repeat Tissaia's words. "The Saviour of Sodden!"

Tissaia is very aware of the silence from her fellow mages, as she lowers their arms, letting go of Yennefer's hand and immediately feeling its loss.

"Seriously, what the fuck are you doing?" Yennefer mutters. "They're not going to like this."

Tissaia ushers her off to the side, out of the spotlight. Artorius steps up to take her place and address the crowd,while Vilgefortz approaches Tissaia and Yennefer, his eyes dark and brows lowered.

"This is not what was agreed," he seethes. "She must prove her-"

"Yennefer has more than proven where her loyalties lie," Tissaia says, evenly. "And she has killed enough in the name of the Brotherhood-" Yennefer scoffs and Tissaia has to hide her smile. It's the most like herself she's sounded since her return. "She killed when it was necessary, in the heat of battle. I will not ask her to kill that man now to prove a point."

"But, the prisoner-" Vilgefortz protests.

"You want him executed," Tissaia says, levelling her gaze at him. "You do it."

Vilgefortz shakes his head, almost vibrating with anger. He jabs a finger in Yennefer's direction and Tissaia is struck by the thought that if he touches her with it, Tissaia will break it off. It's the same instinct that drove her to shove her hands into Cahir's head. That deep, aching need to keep Yennefer safe, above all else.

Vilgefortz, Aretuza, the Continent, all fade into the background while Yennefer is in sharp focus. Yennefer is Tissaia's world. Without her, nothing is right.

"She stood at the conclave and said she'd burn Aretuza to the ground," Vilgefortz continues in a harsh whisper. "What does that prove to you?"

"That even though I fucking hate the place, I still risked my life by going to Sodden to fight?" Yennefer puts in.

"Oh yes, and I'm sure it was Aretuza's best interests you had at heart," Vilgefortz challenges. "You laughed in my face when I suggested you return there. You didn't fight for Aretuza." He moves in closer now, towering over both of them. "You fought for her."

Yennefer glances over at her and Tissaia's heart lifts into her throat at the honesty she sees reflected in her eyes.

"What difference does that make?" Yennefer argues, turning back to Vilgefortz. "She is Aretuza. Without her at the helm, Aretuza would have crumbled into the sea decades ago."

He shakes his head. "They will not stand for this," he says. "The Brotherhood will not allow a suspected spy to-"

"Then both Yennefer and I shall take our leave," Tissaia says.

"What?" Yennefer and Vilgefortz speak as one, looking at her with twin expressions of shock.

"As you've said, the Brotherhood will not stand for Yennefer to remain at Aretuza," she says. "And I will not be part of an organisation that vilifies people who should be treated as heroes." She turns and beckons Yennefer with her head. "Come, then." And she starts to walk out of the ruins, head held high, hands clasped tightly at her waist.

"She will be your downfall, Tissaia," Vilgefortz calls after her. "And because of your actions here tonight, she may be the downfall of all of us!"

"Oh, just fuck off," she hears Yennefer say, before a series of rapid footsteps, and then Yennefer is by her side.

"I cannot believe you did that," she says. "I cannot believe you've just turned your back on the Brotherhood."

"The Brotherhood is not what it once was," Tissaia says. "Although, I must admit, I didn't plan what just happened."

A hand on her arm stops her and turns her to face the other woman. Yennefer shakes her head. "Thank you," she says. "I know how difficult that must have been for you, but it means the world to me."

"Yes, well," Tissaia says, her eyes dropping away from Yennefer's intense gaze. "We all have to make our own decisions about what is important, don't we?" She lifts her eyes. "This last month has shown me what really matters."

Yennefer swallows, her eyes glistening in the torchlight. She pulls Tissaia close, burying her face in her neck. Tissaia wraps her arms around her and knows in her heart that she has made the right decision.

When Yennefer pulls away, they both turn to swipe at their faces discreetly. Yennefer clears her throat.

"So, what now?"

Tissaia sighs. "I don't know. I suppose the first order of business is to try to find a way to restore your magic."

"I thought you said it couldn't be done?" Yennefer says, frowning.

"Well, as you have previously pointed out to me," Tissaia says, her lips curling into a smile. "There are things in this world that are beyond my scope." She takes Yennefer's hand and squeezes it. "We can only try."

Yennefer grins. "Yes." She nods. "And after we've done that, maybe we can overthrow the Brotherhood?"

With a shake of her head, Tissaia smiles. "One thing at a time, dear."