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Ever since she had uttered the words “thirteen” and made her return to Aretuza and survival known, she hadn’t been able to put the Rectoress’ teary eyes out of her mind. They were an ever-present reminder of the harm she had caused, but also of the fact that she was, indeed, loved. A single feeling so sought out during her whole life, that it almost drove her towards her demise a handful of times.
She yearned for someone to love her; having been blinded by stubbornness during her formative years, and later by having believed to find the answer in becoming a mother, she had failed to acknowledge that there had been someone lovingly watching over her. The stern and wise Archmistress, whose soul is said to be harder to penetrate than that of any either living or dead mage, had let a once crooked girl, a piglet, become dear to her.
Yennefer, now faced with a reality she had taken too long to acknowledge, sits on the edge of the pool, wanting to bathe but unable to heat it. Powerless and tired, she tries to gather the connotations behind Tissaia’s gaze, and to what extent her love for her expands.
The reflection on the water shows her a weapon crafted long ago through pain. After all, the beauty given to her on her ascension day was nothing more than that. Despite this, it is incredibly powerful. All whom she knew before now looked at her differently, and she could bend them to her will.
It was only Tissaia who regarded her the exact same. She, who knew everything about Yennefer, was the only one whose demeanor towards her never changed. Yennefer, however, had realised mere days after arriving at the school that it would never go both ways. Her manners cold, her actions calculated, her walls held high, Tissaia de Vries was arguably impossible to get to know. No matter, Yennefer felt herself wanting to discover all that there is to her and sharing it with no one, to live blissfully for as long as the other did, connected through wisdom.
She suddenly realises that she no longer is alone in the room, having Triss entered quietly. Turning around, Yennefer faces her friend, and quickly stands to greet her with a hug. Their embrace doesn’t last very long, but it is heartfelt and has Triss smiling like she hadn’t in months.
The redhead sits by the edge of the pool, and after seeing the water is cold, heats it wordlessly, motioning for the other mage to get in. Yennefer sighs contentedly as the warm water washes away the dirt of long days in the forest. Frowning when her friend doesn’t join her, she is simply told to enjoy.
-I guess we both have changed a lot -says Yennefer, motioning towards her friend’s hair.
-Indeed -a sigh escapes the younger mage -Sodden was…
-I know.
Their eyes meet, sharing a deep understanding of pain and loss. Yennefer swims closer to where the redhead is and offers her a small smile, one that is meant to express what she can’t in words: I’m sorry.
-I would ask if you’re happy to be back, but I’m afraid your hatred for Aretuza has been left more than clear. -Triss jokes, making the other woman chuckle -Nonetheless… you do look quite at ease. I suppose that it is not entirely due to seeing me again?
Yennefer laughs, splashing her friend gently with the water in her fingers and shakes her head with a lopsided smile.
-I assure you Tissaia will be of great help, she surely was to me after everything that happened. She would check on me daily and always be there for whatever I needed, even if it meant giving me a shoulder to cry on. -she added the last part almost muttering -She fulfills what no mother ever did, and does it amazingly. I suppose she is the closest we will have to one.
Triss is smiling, but Yennefer has stopped doing so. Her inner turmoil growing by the minute, she excuses herself not long after and heads to the room she has been given upon her unexpected arrival. Leaning against the closed door, now surrounded only by silence, she contemplates Triss’ earlier words. Tissaia’s eyes are still in front of her: blue, beautiful and relieved. But she couldn’t possibly ever fathom her as her mother. She had a mother, who was probably dead by now, lying somewhere in Vengerberg. For her, she felt pity and hatred. For Tissaia none of those applied, rather, their opposites. For her, the feelings were so deep-rooted, strong and chaotic she feared they would consume her. She had always felt too much and acted too little.
It is half an hour later that she knocks on the door of the Rectoress’ study, dressed in purple and determined to figure out her non-stopping thoughts. She opens the door, eager, and a smaller figure standing close to her jumps a little in surprise.
Tissaia had two strands of auburn hair hanging out of her perfectly styled bun. Her posture stiff, but in her eyes a warm greeting, she looked like in her memories. But something had changed, she realised, because now she found herself looking at the tip of her nose, her neatly coiffed eyebrows, her pursed lips, and a warm feeling set inside her. She had missed her. Dearly.
Taking slow steps towards her mentor, she now understood what was different about her, why she could never regard Tissaia like the rest of her former students did. Through long years and hard lessons, she had fallen in love with the woman standing in front of her. Albeit not sure if such sentiment was reciprocated romantically, she cupped her cheeks, and after whispering “I missed you”, she made sure Tissaia would be unable to answer, pressing her lips against hers in a gentle kiss. It was then that she understood what love was; it was then that she could finally grasp it. Pulling away in a heartbeat, wide eyes staring at her, she walked away from all that she ever wanted, for she could not bear the possibility of a no escaping the woman’s mouth.