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Sodden had taken its toll on the two sorceresses from Aretuza. Despite being incredibly powerful and very capable in battle, they weren’t soldiers. They weren’t warriors. Yes, Yennefer could break a man’s neck without even blinking, and Triss could fell an army as she bended nature to her will, but that didn’t mean they wanted to. Yennefer’s drive for power had never been about killing people or destruction. There was no power in death.
The real power was in living. She’d learnt that lesson on her very first night at Aretuza, possibly the most important thing that Tissaia had ever taught her. To die was to give up, to live meant defeating all of those who stand against you, even if it is your own mind.
And poor, darling Triss, she was a healer. Her knowledge of plants and their properties had stemmed from a desire to help people, to love, to heal. Triss, who treasured every living thing, and even apologised to the pitiful bugs and insects that were needed in their potions and enchantments, the healer who had been forced to kill a hundred men. Men with families, wives, husbands, children, fighting for a ruthless monster who saw them as pawns, fodder to be destroyed in a bloody battle.
A battle that had nearly killed them both.
Yennefer’s hands were still scarred from the inferno she’d let rip through the forest, and Triss still struggled to sit up, her body still healing from the blade that had buried deep into her gut, but they were alive, and they had each other for when life seemed to get too much. So, Yennefer didn’t regret her decision to help Tissaia in the slightest. For once, it felt like she had done something meaningful, something powerful, something more than running round the Continent on a wild goose chase in search of what she had lost.
“Yen…” Triss murmured from the bed, her rich chestnut curls falling in front of her freckled face. “Yenna, n-no…”
A nightmare.
Yennefer probed at Triss’s mind, just enough to see a fireball surrounding herself. She looked wild, ferocious… beautiful. That made her smile despite the fear clutching at her heart. Triss always saw her as beautiful, no matter what. With a soft sigh, Yennefer crawled into the bed next to Triss, gently pulling her into her arms, Triss’s head resting in her lap. She closed her eyes, keeping close contact with Triss’s mind, as she ran her fingers through the soft curls, filling Triss’s mind with happier thoughts and memories.
The day they spent in the cornfields together before Triss had been stationed in Temeria. Flower crowns conjured from thin air, sweet smelling and fresh, a picnic of the finest food laid out in front of them, just two dearest friends enjoying the day.
The day spent at elven ruins, a field trip from Aretuza in Yennefer’s later years, Triss had been in her first year at the school, young and timid and afraid. They’d been thick as thieves, mocking the Ban-Ard boys as they got far too excited over shit in the dirt. Yennefer had pulled Triss to one side, sneaking around the ruins until they found a patch of feainnewedd, the chaos rippling around them. As the more experienced mage, Yennefer had delighted in showing off, creating fireworks in her hands that resembled the pretty blue flowers. Triss had been so excited, reciting all the properties of feainnewedd, chattering away until it was dark and they’d been left behind. Yennefer had portalled them back to Aretuza to face a very angry Tissaia de Vries, but it had been worth it.
Triss had been worth it.
The whimpering settled down into steady breathing, and Triss stopped wriggling in Yennefer’s arms. The raging torrent of fire in her mind melting away to reveal a beautiful wooded area, the giggles of fae child echoing from the treetops. So, Yennefer opened her eyes, gazing down at her friend, fingers still carding through her hair, and she smiled warmly when she saw the serene expression on Triss’s face.
The nightmare was over… for now.