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"Tissaia?"
She doesn't even open her eyes. Instead, she inhales, sucking in the heavy scent surrounding her into her nostrils. Oils whose fragrances arise from the warm water around her, filling the entire room. Of lilacs and gooseberries and the heavy aroma of almond and vanilla, mingling in the air to create a beguiling perfume. Inseparable. Joined forever.
"What happened?" Her answer is lost in the soft rush of water sloshing against the copper walls of her bathtub as Yennefer moves. A low hum of displeasure escapes Tissaia's lips, irritated at the sudden movement, then all goes quiet again.
"It's all right, darling. I didn't know you were asleep."
She wants to reply something, but her tongue is as heavy as her eyelids. Instead, she presses her head closer to Yennefer's chest, letting her cheek slide over the soft nipples she has nestled her head against. The warm water surrounds her, lapping against her skin in barely perceptible waves, lulling her to sleep, even though it is colder than it was before....
"How long...?" Jerking her eyes open, she lifts her gaze to her lover's face.
Raven-black hair, shining like the star-filled night sky outside the high windows, tickles her cheek. Yennefers lilac eyes beam at her from a smiling face. Calm. Gentle. So different from Yennefer's usual self.
"Everything is fine, Tissaia." The steady, tender voice fills the air anew, soft hands gliding across her back, up and down as if through the soft fur of a beloved cat. "You can rest."
"But..." She wants to straighten up but is held back by Yennefer's hands on her shoulders. One last pleading look from her eyes towards her lover, then Yennefer hugs her back onto her chest, letting her fingertips slide through the strands of her pinned-up hair.
"If you even dare think of the essays still on your desk, Tissaia," she breathes to her, voice lowered to a threatening whisper. "'I'll open them. And you know what that means."
A silent nod is her sole answer.
An hour and a half in which she will not leave that tub while Yennefer takes as much time as she wants to wash and dry her hair.
"So?" With a sigh, she surrenders to the expectant look in Yennefer's lilac eyes, letting her head sink back onto her chest, trying to focus on the gentle hands on her back, their rhythmic movements....
"You're tense."
It's not a question, more an observation. A hand strokes her cheek hesitantly, fingertips circling the tense muscles of her jaw.
"So much tension in so little Tissaia," whispers the air hitting her ear, half hidden behind a silky black curtain. "Would it help you if the heroine of Sodden used her skills on the essays on your desk? We could claim that the wind blew them away, or that they disappeared through a misguided portal somewhere in the far reaches of Kovir, or..."
"That Stregobor stole them to roast rats over his campfire?" With a smile, she feels Yennefer's arms close tighter around her at the mention of his name. The name of the man she inevitably associates with the chapter. And with it work and stress for her, endless sleepless nights brooding over the unanswered questions of the continent. Or over the planning of the next Ascention Ball.
"You've woken me every night for the last two weeks with your preparations," Yennefer reminds her. Not a hint of reproach lies in her voice, instead she has taken on the soft tone of tender concern. Like a mother speaking to her child. And as much as Tissaia wants to, she cannot disagree, for Yennefer immediately continues.
"You barely slept, barely ate, to have a perfect night."
"Yennefer..."
"Last night," Yennefer continues quietly, not listening to her objection. " You were lying in my arms, sobbing, after it was finally over."
"I have my responsibilities, Yennefer." Once more she opens her eyes. But this time she can see tears in Yennefer's. As hard as the young sorceress tries to hide them, to blink them away, she cannot. There is an unmistakable gleam in her eyes as she looks down at her like a mother at her newborn. With an all-consuming desire to protect what she holds in her arms and pressed against her.
"Then what about the responsibility towards yourself, Tissaia?"
"I know."
With a sigh, she lowers her head back onto Yennefer's chest, smiling as the younger sorceress begins to play with one of the long strands of her hair that has come loose from her coiffure.
A single, dark curl, shimmering in the softly flickering light of the myriad candles surrounding them.
"Just sleep, darling," Yennefer's voice whispers in her ear, warm breath brushing her cheek followed by a careful kiss, warm lips pressing silently against her temple. "Sleep and rest. You have all the time in the world."
"But..." She wants to disagree, to remind Yennefer that she is still the Rectoress of Aretuza with countless responsibilities. But Yennefer's skin is warm and smooth and her hands have found her belly. Carefully they begin to caress her soft flesh, a gentle hum on her lips that can mean everything and nothing, as Tissaia's eyes grow heavier.
The last thing she hears is a softly murmured spell. The last thing she feels is the delicate movement of Yennefer's hand heating the water again in a barely perceptible touch.
"You're safe," a gentle voice whispers in her mind, followed by a cascade of images, impressions. The endless expanses of Kaedwen, the kitchen and laboratory of the little house in Rinde all those years ago. The sight of a sunset casting its delicate rays far, far across the sea. Countless colours reflected in the water that seems to burn and glow, throwing all the warmth of the setting sun towards her.
One more time she breathes in the scent, their shared perfume, snuggles closer against Yennefer's body, wrapping her arms around her waist as if she should be afraid of slipping off her and drowning. Even though it won't happen. She is safe in Yennefer's arms. Safe and secure.
"I love you."
Fingers lost in thought trace patterns on her back, but what finally lulls her to sleep is not the dim light, nor the numbing fragrance in the air. Not even Yennefer's hands on her back, the gossamer declarations of love she whispers into her thoughts, the dreams full of grace and beauty she induces.
It is the feeling of water. Warm and tame, as if to remind her that she has nothing to fear, nothing to lose. As gentle and calm as the sea crashing its lazy waves against the cliffs of Aretuza. With the tranquillity of a starlit night stretching high above them, causing time to stand still. The continent and its children rest, and with them all their worries, hardships and fears. For a few precious hours until the sun rises again to breathe life into a new day.