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Yennefer embraced Pain.
Before she knew Pain and it became her favourite thing to create by herself, she knew relegation.
Her childhood was a nightmare, having no one but an abusive father and a mother, who was too weak to speak up against his Decisions regarding their misshapen daughter.
She still remembers the judging, the secretive and shy Looks her siblings were giving her every dinner. She could tell everyone in her life back then was disgusted by her appearance.
Her siblings were not her real siblings. Yes, of course they were what her mother had born, but for Yennefer...for her they never counted as a family.
Later, there was Istredd. She felt safe with him, for the first time she didn’t feel rejected by someone because of her malformation, her eyes or her hair, or because she was...something else.
Later, there was Triss, the first woman she fell in love with, and about all the time in nearly 70 years, there was Geralt. Geralt was a lot. Or at least he always acted like he was.
He was strong of character, everything about him said “touch me and you’ll be dead on the floor”.
Her relationship with him felt like balancing on a thin tightrope, falling if they balanced too close to each other. It was like being inevitably close to burning, if their sparks touched just a little bit too much.
Never taking anything for granted when they were together was a thing of agenda.
Her whole life she’d believed if everything was just a bit easier, then she’d finally be happy without any ulterior motives from her Fate.
It became easier, yet it didn’t feel easier.
Yennefer didn’t have the one thing she ever wanted. She’s wanted Power. Being able to control everything, because, for such a long time, her future and her decisions were controlled by prejudices and the people who thought they could control her because of what she was on the outside.
Yennefer wanted to be famous and respected for her skills, not because she looked nice.
As she said once: It is overrated.
Yennefer embraced Pain.
Not right now.
Right now she wished for something, anything that made it stop.
Right now it hurt like hell and it was overwhelming her senses and her tortured mind.
She could feel his greasy, dirty Hair on the skin of her hands, the colour of it being something between Black, Red and beautiful grey-ish white, just looking enough fair for her to not get the Impression of loving an old man, fading from life, everytime she looked at him.
Right now there were nothing but impressions going through her mind, further she was thinking of ways to save the one thing, the one person, who kept her alive and made her feel appreciated, despite their differences and the toxic and forced way they’ve met decades ago.
Geralt.
How old was he even now? She hated that she didn’t know.
When she first arrived at the fight, he still looked strong and fierce, violently tearing the monsters apart. It was all gone now.
“Geralt!” She shouted back then, for her to catch his attention when she rushed into battle right in time when she saw Geralt having trouble fighting a giant Moa, a Queenwyver.
He didn’t even need to turn his face to her to recognize her coming to help.
Yennefer’s spells and fight moves helped a lot in fighting the roaring monster, yet for Geralt it was hopeless. Yennefer was busy keeping the other Wyvers away from her for her own life’s sake, when she heard a painful, horrendous manly scream and the noise of ripped flesh punctured in her ears.
“Geralt!” She screamed out, terrified and torn apart by the idea that Geralt might have been killed when she turned around a bit.
Yen defeated the last few monsters that were attacking her with her magic, and after they were laying dead on the ground, she didn’t waste a single thought on them anymore.
Instead she called out for him one more time in the direction of where she last heard the man’s grunts, yet she saw nothing. It was like monster and Witcher had disappeared behind her back.
She could feel a scary amount of adrenaline in her stomach, her skin prickling and the cold fear rising inside her chest.
“Geralt, where are you?”
Her voice almost broke because of the volume she put in her desperate scream.
Then, after what felt like eternity, she heard a pitiful noise that sounded like the Witcher.
She immediately ran up to him, he was crawling up from a swamp hole in the ground. The first thing she noticed after her relief of him still being alive, was how his chest was soaked in a dark huge area of blood. (If she ignored the dirt and monster entrails he practically was covered in.)
“Oh my god…” Yennefer couldn’t breathe and everything spinned for a second as she saw the injury.
She kneeled quickly and tried to help him get into a better position after she pulled him out of the wet hollow.
And there she was, holding his head in her hands, his back onto her lap, the bitter and scary realization Geralt might die here now, in her arms.
She muttered his Name a few times, drained by the thoughts running through her mind.
And in Geralt’s eyes, god, there were so much Emotions, so much more than he’d ever admit he had.
Geralt spoke and Yennefer let him.
His slightly quavering hands searched the way to the left side of his chest, where his wound must’ve been.
Yennefer held his hand, as soon as she saw how much Geralt was weakly shaking.
“Been...sting...tore my guts apart…” Geralt looked horrified there for a second.”
Understandable. Gore was disgusting, and it was even worse when it was your own.
“Sh, Shh… I’ll heal you. Or I’ll bring you to Tissaia. She’s the mightiest magician i know, she’ll fix this.”
Yennefer immediately tried to cast a spell that would repair Geralt’s body back together, slowly moving her even more shaking hands above the wrecked flesh were Geralt’s Heart was supposed to be, yet she knew it was hopeless. When she looked at the Blood loss she almost vomited. There was so much Blood. So much.
Geralt groaned in terrible pain when he felt his skin growing back together. At the same time, Yennefer let out an exhausted little sound, the process of healing a big wound like this with magic weakening her body, her sight slowly fainting.
“Yen, stop.” Geralt groaned, as he saw how Yennefer’s efforts couldn’t do enough and how they yet weakened her by second to second.
“It’s not working.”
“It has to!”,
Yennefer almost shouted, sweat running amongst her brow.
Geralt suddenly grabbed her hand, and when Yennefer felt how cold his hand was and how wispy his touch was, usually strong and grip and warm, she stopped.
For a second both of them stayed silent, Yennefer recovering and Geralt breathing harshly into the air.
It smelled like death and blood and destruction, not an exactly pleasant smell to die to.
Yet Geralt expected it to be the last thing he smelled for so long, he wasn’t angry about it anymore.
Yennefer had catched her breath again.
“You’re not going to die here, Geralt.” She said, and both of them knew it was a lie.
“Not because of that.”
To her surprise, Geralt showed a little smile. “I’m already dead, Yen. There’s...there’s nothing...to do.” he stated.
“No. No. You won’t.” Yennefer was devastated. She sat up again and rested Geralt’s head against her stomach once again.
She tucked a few of Geralt’s Hair strands out of his face.
“I’ll be with you. In hell, I mean. We’ll both rest in hell.”
Geralt was clearly talking garbage. Death was near, and she felt it coming closer by every breath she took.
“Yennefer, i have killed...so...many people...and till now i don’t know...don’t know if they deserved it..”
Yennefer knew. She knew he was currently thinking about Renfri, one of many lost souls he was acquainted with during his long life, she knew about countless hostile Villagers who tried to slit Geralt’s throat so many times, she thought about how they didn’t stand any chance of survival, which probably was the reason for Geralt’s guilt. He was right, of course he was, and they both had taken so many lives. And they’ll both never know if some of them were wasted by his sword or her knife.
She also knew he thought about people he abandoned and those who abandoned him.
Geralt’s Breath now was quieter.
“Imagine, if Jaskier still lived, he’d…”
“He’d...be on your side right now, mourning his source of Inspiration.” Geralt slowly finished the sentence and tried to laugh.
Yennefer didn’t.
“It was wrong of you to abandon him. He loved you, you know.”
Geralt knew. He knew what Yennefer meant.
“Now you can remind me of every one of my mistakes.”
“I don’t mean to.”
Geralt just took another rattling breath.
Yennefer felt the need to sob. “Even when you’re..you’re facing death, you still feel the need to be funny.”
Geralt just stared at her like he was trying to memorize every detail of her face and ignored her observation.
“I never...told anyone...in my life i...loved them.” Geralt brought out, his voice faltering.
Yennefer cried and brought down her head to his face. They touched foreheads, the Curls of her black hair falling onto his body.
“Me neither.” She said.
“You always...always stayed by my side…”, Geralt struggled to speak. “Why?”
Because I have no one else.
Because I love you too.
Because you’re the purpose in life I needed and found in you.
Because we’re destined to be together.
Because there’s so many reasons.
Because i want to.
“Because you valued me. You made me feel loved.”
When Geralt finally closed his eyes and the lineaments of his face untightened, Yennefer knew he finally was at peace with himself.
After all, being at peace with yourself could be one’s biggest achievement.
“I do love you.” Yennefer spoke, breath hot and her whispering voice trembling, not knowing if Geralt could still hear it.
Now the last thing Geralt smelled was a soft familiar scent of Lilac and Gooseberry, quite the reverse of what he expected for ages.
It was a nice Surprise.