Chapter Text
Tissaia sighs, rubbing at her temples. She's just finished a tutoring session in her office with a few girls who have been falling behind on their lessons. In days gone by, she'd never have lowered herself to bother with such things. These girls will not ascend. They don't even have enough chaos to be of any real value in the eel pond. But Aretuza's coffers are dwindling year on year and she needs the hefty tuition fees their parents are willing to pay to ensure the girls with real talent are adequately serviced.
The papers on her desk start to flutter. A few blow off completely and the candlestick starts to rattle. Tissaia looks up with a frown, just as the world starts to blur before her eyes. A portal whirrs into life directly in front of her desk. Tissaia stands, hands raised, ready to defend herself. But the magic she senses is not malevolent; rather it is familiar to her. Before she can gather her thoughts enough to work out why she recognises the magical signature, Yennefer of Vengerberg falls through the portal and lands on her rug.
It's been more than thirty years since Tissaia last saw her, swanning into that ballroom and stealing the breath from everyone present before sealing her own destiny with a dance. And now here she is, sprawled on the floor, coughing and spluttering and dripping water everywhere.
She's also cradling a screaming baby to her chest. Tissaia hurries round from behind her desk, standing over Yennefer, to assess the situation. Yennefer's violet eyes meet her own, more frightened than she can ever remember seeing them.
"T-take her," Yennefer says, her teeth chattering. "She's t-too c-cold."
Both the child and Yennefer are soaking wet. Tissaia does as she's bid, taking the child from Yennefer and muttering a spell to dry her clothes and warm her up before doing the same for Yennefer. She adjusts the child in her arms; it's been many years since she held a babe this young. She looks down at Yennefer with concern, even as she tries to calm the child down. Since being relieved of her burden, Yennefer has curled in on herself, panting with her eyes closed.
"Yennefer," Tissaia says, noting that the child's crying is beginning to ease now that she is warmer. With her arms occupied, Tissaia prods Yennefer's leg with the toe of her boot. "Yennefer, what's going on?"
Yennefer shakes her head, not opening her eyes. "Jus- just make sure she's not hurt."
Tissaia sighs, but turns her attention to the child, who is now whimpering softly, more of an echo of her crying fit than a continuation of it.
"Shhh, little one," Tissaia soothes as she unwraps the swaddling and inspects the baby's skin. She is unmarked, and going by her earlier volume, her heart and lungs are working at full capacity. She covers her back up and rocks her gently. All the crying has clearly tired her out because her eyelids are heavy and her breath comes in gentle puffs against Tissaia's neck. She rubs her back until the small head sags against her hand. Looking around for a blanket of some sort, she grabs a cloak from her coatstand and arranges it on one of her couches, forming a nest as best she can with one hand. She deposits the child into the bundle and covers her up.
When she turns back to Yennefer, she gasps. Due to the commotion and the noise, she had failed to notice the dagger sticking out of Yennefer's shoulder.
"You're hurt!" Tissaia says, dropping to her knees beside her former student to examine the site of the wound. Yennefer winces, but mostly keeps still as Tissaia tears at her ripped dress to better see what is going on. The dagger is embedded almost to the hilt in the flesh of Yennefer's shoulder. Fresh blood oozes from the wound, running in rivulets and soaking into Yennefer's dress, drying in dark russet tendrils across her skin. She bends her to sniff the wound.
"I don't think it's poisoned," Yennefer tells her, her breath ragged. "Just fucking painful."
"I have no doubt," Tissaia says. "I need you to turn a bit further towards me." She tries to help, easing Yennefer over so that her chest is supported by Tissaia's lap. Yennefer's hand twists in Tissaia's skirts, her forehead pressed to her hip.
"It hurts," Yennefer groans. "Get it out. Please."
"Perhaps if you would stop talking," Tissaia tells her. "I'd be able to concentrate."
That elicits a breathless laugh, followed by a pained gasp. Tissaia sighs. She is no medic, but she can't risk bringing anyone else to this room before she ascertains the situation. Yennefer has many enemies, and she has a few herself, who would love to hear of Aedirn's infamous mage brought low.
"I'm going to remove it quickly and deal with the aftermath," Tissaia says. Yennefer nods, tightening her hold on Tissaia's skirts. "On a count of three, yes?" Tissaia grips the handle of the blade, adjusting her hold so as the removal will be as straightforward and painless as she can manage. "One." She swallows. "Two." She yanks the dagger free without further warning.
Yennefer shrieks in pain, mutters something that sounds like 'you fucker', then slumps against Tissaia, her hand going slack as she passes out.
"How did you survive the enchantment, girl?" Tissaia mumbles as she gathers up her skirts and uses the fabric to apply pressure to Yennefer's wound in an attempt to stem the bleeding. "Or have all these years at court made you soft, hmm?" She keeps the pressure on for several minutes before she chances a look at the wound. The bleeding has slowed, thankfully. She looks at their surroundings; she can't care for either of them from the floor of her workspace. Reluctant to disturb the baby, in case that awful crying starts up once more, she decides to move Yennefer first.
She rips a clean section from her dress, since it is now ruined from Yennefer's blood anyway, and folds it to make a pad. With care, she inserts it into the ruined back of Yennefer's dress to cover the wound. She eases Yennefer off her lap, earning a soft moan and then nothing. Reassured that she's still out cold, and that the baby is asleep, Tissaia moves through to her bedchamber and makes preparations to both treat and hide her visitors. She draws the curtains, not that anyone could see in by accident, but one never knows when a passing seagull or owl is actually a spy from a colleague. She yanks blankets to the foot of the bed, leaving just a sheet to cover the mattress. Glancing around, she spies a crate of books she had been going to return to Aretuza's library. She quickly empties it, piling the books back onto her shelves and gathers up some bedding, using it to pad the base and sides of the crate for use as a crib. She frowns. What else do babies need? Some sort of feeding apparatus, she imagines. And something to be bathed in. She wrinkles her nose. And many changes of underclothes. Well, that can be dealt with once she has moved Yennefer off the floor.
Making her way back through to her office, Tissaia checks the child is still asleep, then chants some elder until Yennefer's body lifts from the floor. Tissaia moves quickly to position her so that the padding doesn't move and that there's no undue pressure on her injured shoulder. She keeps a hand on the wound, and another on Yennefer's hip, as they move to the other room. She deposits the unconscious woman on the bed, again positioned so as not to cause her pain.
Brushing Yennefer's hair away from her face, she smiles at how young she seems. Not merely because her looks are frozen in time, but because in slumber she is stripped of her usual smirk or the roll of her eyes; her armour. With Yennefer so unguarded, Tissaia takes the opportunity to look at her. She runs a thumb over her chin to where her jaw used to protrude. There's a pang in Tissaia's chest as she thinks of the young woman she knew; imperfect, sharp-tongued and more powerful than she understood.
A whimper from the next room brings Tissaia out of her memories and she sighs.
"Not again."
With a final glance at Yennefer to make sure she's still unconscious, Tissaia hauls herself up and goes back through to her office. The baby is wriggling around and Tissaia realises that putting her on a narrow, raised surface was perhaps not the best idea she's ever had. She picks up the squirming bundle. Almost immediately the baby seems to settle, just from her nearness. She's so small, Tissaia thinks, taking in her tiny nose and disproportionately large eyes. Without care, this little thing will die. She brushes a finger tenderly down her cheek and the baby's head whips to the side, her mouth latching onto Tissaia's knuckle and sucking.
"Oh. You're hungry." Tissaia looks around, panicked. There's nothing suitable to give a child this young to hand; she's going to have to go to the kitchens.
The baby, having realised that nothing is coming out of Tissaia's knuckle, has started to fuss and whimper. Tissaia tries shushing her and rocking her, but she isn't to be pacified this time and soon her whimper becomes a full on wail.
"Shhhh. I'll- I just need to-" She frowns at herself, trying to reason with an infant. She'll go to the kitchens, quickly, and get what she needs, and then come back and feed her. She hurries through to her bedchamber and deposits the screaming child in the makeshift crib. She doesn't care if the noise wakes Yennefer. In fact, it would be quite a blessing to be able to hand the girl off to her. But Yennefer sleeps on and the child is only getting louder. Tissaia leans into the crib and strokes her hair.
"I'll be back soon. I promise," she whispers.
Casting a quick muffling spell on the room so no-one hears the cries, she conjures a portal, stepping through it to arrive just outside the vast kitchens of Aretuza. Dinner is past so there aren't many people around. Those who are all bow their heads in deference as she passes. She heads straight through to the head cook's small office, used for planning menus and writing orders. Predictably, the old woman is there, scribbling away when Tissaia enters without announcing herself. She looks up.
"Ah, Rectoress. It's been a while since I've seen you down here."
"Haethys," Tissaia says, without bothering with formalities. "I need a favour." She looks behind her and closes the door. "And your discretion."
Haethys is well known for being the person to go to when a scullery maid - or the occasional student - gets herself into trouble. The old woman takes the pipe out of her mouth and sets it in an ashtray, turning to fully look at Tissaia.
"Have you known me to be anything other than discreet, Rectoress?"
Despite being far older than the cook, Tissaia feels like a little girl being reprimanded. She looks down and nods. "No, never." She coughs and looks up. "I'm sorry."
Haethys waves her off. "What do you need?"
Tissaia inhales. "I need something to feed a baby with. A bottle. And milk to go in it." She swallows. "And anything else I might need to look after a baby."
To the woman's credit, she does little more than lift a grey eyebrow. "How old is the child?"
Frowning, Tissaia shrugs. "I don't know." She holds her hands out in front of her, a bit less than a foot apart. "She's about that size."
Nodding, Haethys stands and moves over to a set of shelves and starts to rummage in boxes.
"It's-" Tissaia takes a step towards her. "-fairly urgent."
"Ah, so you have a child screaming to be fed, do you?" Haethys smiles. "Then I'll sort you out with that and bring the rest to your chambers, if that's agreeable?"
"Yes, that's fine." Tissaia nods, wishing to expedite the process.
Haethys emerges with a glass bottle and rubber teat, moving more swiftly than her years would suggest, she sweeps past Tissaia and into the kitchen, returning moments later with a full bottle of milk. Tissaia goes to take it, but Haethys draws it back out of her reach.
"Don't let the babe drink too fast, or she'll fill up with wind. And make sure to break the seal of her lips and the teat every so often to let the milk flow. Let her drink a quarter then hold her up on your shoulder-" She uses the bottle to demonstrate. "-and rub her back until she belches."
Tissaia sighs. It sounds more complicated than she had anticipated, but she's sure if every mother since the dawn of time has mastered getting food into a child, it can't be that difficult. She holds her hand out and Haethys finally gives her the bottle. It's warm.
"It's the right temperature," Haethys tells her. "For future reference, use the inside of your wrist as a guide - drop a spot onto the skin there and it should not feel hot nor cool."
"Yes, very well," Tissaia says. "If you could bring anything else you think would be useful to my apartments, I would be grateful."
She gets an amused chuckle in response. "Good luck."
With a grim nod, Tissaia leaves, waiting until she has left the kitchens to conjure a portal. When she arrives back in her bedchamber, she resists the urge to cover her ears. If she didn't know better, she'd swear someone was being brutally murdered. Hurrying over to the crib, she finds the baby red faced and quivering, her mouth taking up half her face as she squawks.
"Shhhhh," Tissaia tries, as she sets the bottle down and picks the child up. She's almost rigid with rage and hunger, making it difficult to find a comfortable position to hold her. Grabbing the bottle in her free hand, Tissaia moves to the empty side of the bed and sits, bringing one leg up to brace herself and letting the other hang over the side. She gets the child's head into the crook of her elbow and swiftly brings the bottle to her lips.
Whether it's the scent of the milk, or just the feel of something at her lips, the baby quietens instantly, latching onto the teat and sucking. Soft little grunts of approval accompany the sucking motions and Tissaia lets out a sigh of relief. Haethys had said something about not letting her drink too fast, but she's not sure how to prevent that. She tilts the bottle to the side, releasing the pressure building up in the teat, but as soon as the baby senses it is moving away, she follows it, head snapping around and lips pursed around nothing.
"Yes, yes, it's coming back," Tissaia murmurs, smiling when the baby latches on again. It's amazing, she thinks, that the instinct for survival is so strong from so young an age. This baby's body knows it must have sustenance and it has several ways to let that be known.
After a few moments, the child starts to squirm in discomfort and Tissaia gently removes the teat from her mouth, setting the bottle aside. Almost at once the baby starts to cry, building with each inhalation until she's bringing the walls down again.
"Shhhh," Tissaia says, rubbing the child's back and rocking her as best she can. "I can't feed you and make you more comfortable at the same time, child. You need to-" The baby lets out a burp far too loud to have come from her tiny body. "Yes, that." She continues to rub, but the crying really is too much, so she settles back down with the bottle for a second round. Again, the milk quiets her. "Haethys said to let you have a quarter of this bottle," she murmurs. "But I am loathe to remove it from your mouth only to have you scream again. So you can drink your fill and then we shall see where we are. Yes?"
"Yes, Rectoress."
Tissaia jumps at the unexpected response, turning to glare over her shoulder at Yennefer, now apparently awake and feeling well enough to give Tissaia cheek. The glare fades when she sees how pale Yennefer is, how her eyes are dull and absent of their usual mischief. She's lying on her uninjured side, facing Tissaia.
"You've rejoined us, I see," Tissaia says, shifting on the bed so she can hold a conversation without craning her neck. Yennefer's eyes drop to the babe in her arms and she smiles, reaching out to touch her foot.
"This is quite a sight to wake up to," Yennefer says. "The great Tissaia nursing a newborn. Whatever next?"
"You didn't leave me much choice," Tissaia tells her. "She was crying and in need of feeding. What would you have had me do?"
"I would have thought that you'd be impervious to the sound of children crying by now," Yennefer says.
Tissaia is surprised how much the jibe hurts. She's heard far worse over the years. But she lifts her chin and concentrates on the child, watching as her sucking slows and her eyelids droop, she smiles, despite a growing lump in her throat.
"Then perhaps I am not so heartless as you would believe," she says, her voice quiet.
She takes the bottle from the baby's mouth, assured that she is asleep. She moves from the bed, keeping her back to Yennefer as she places the babe in the makeshift crib and adjusts the blankets around her. She strokes a thumb over the tuft of dark hair poking out from beneath the blanket and smiles before standing up and steeling herself back into neutrality before turning to her errant student. Yennefer is looking at her in a way she's never seen before.
"I never said you were-" Yennefer begins, but Tissaia is in no mood for this conversation and brushes it aside.
"I need to check your wound," Tissaia says, moving around the bed. The hand she places on Yennefer's shoulder is more gentle than her voice. "Turn over."
Yennefer hesitates, her gaze lingering on Tissaia's face, before she obeys, turning to give Tissaia better access. Tissaia carefully removes the wad of fabric she'd stuffed in Yennefer's dress, glad to see that the bleeding has completely stopped and the wound clotted over. She nods in approval.
"I need to clean it and then close it," Tissaia says, moving to retrieve a bowl of water, setting it on the bedside table.
"You couldn't have done that while I was unconscious?" Yennefer grumbles.
"I had other, more pressing, things to deal with," Tissaia says, rolling up her sleeves. She regards Yennefer's back. "Your dress is ruined. Do you wish me to rip it further to get at the wound, or would you prefer to remove it?"
Yennefer laughs, glancing over her shoulder. "That's definitely the most formal request to see my tits I've ever had."
Tissaia sighs, ignoring the flare of warmth in her cheeks. Even when she was younger, Yennefer would flirt with anything that moved. She used her wit and her charm to win people over back then, rather than her body, but she always had the skill for it.
"If you're going to be insufferable, I will knock you back unconscious."
"I'll take it off," Yennefer says, pushing herself up. Her arms shake with the effort and Tissaia takes pity on her, helping her into a more stable position.
"You've lost a lot of blood-" Tissaia says and Yennefer looks up, eyes sharp, as they both realise Tissaia's said those words before. "You're weak. Just be careful."
"I'm fine," Yennefer mumbles as Tissaia loosens the fastenings on the back of her dress and helps her to push it off her shoulders and down her arms, leaving her torso bare. Tissaia gathers up Yennefer's hair and pushes it over her opposite shoulder, leaving her free to concentrate on the injury. She dips a clean rag in the water and wrings it out, using it to wipe away the encrusted blood to give her an unobscured view of the wound. Yennefer flinches away from the cool water a few times, but manages to stay mostly still as Tissaia works to make sure the wound is free of debris.
"So." Tissaia says, once the silence has stretched on too long without Yennefer volunteering any information. "Are you, at any point, going to explain how you ended up on my floor with a knife in your back and a child in your arms?"
Sighing, Yennefer shakes her head. "I was escorting Queen Kalis of Lyria home when we were attacked on the road. An assassin sent by her husband, I can only assume. I tried to get her to safety, to keep us moving, but-"
Tissaia nods, satisfied that the wound is clear. She gently dries the area. "The Queen is dead?"
"Yes." Tissaia watches the muscles in her jaw tense. "Although, I wouldn't bother shedding a tear for her. She's no great loss to the world."
"And the squealing hellion you brought with you?" Tissaia asks, turning to observe the child, now sleeping soundly, full of milk. "I assume she's not yours?"
While she wouldn't put it past Yennefer to find a way to have a child, this one doesn't feel like it shares Yennefer's blood. There's not a lick of chaos in her.
Yennefer sighs, resting her head on her knees. "No. She's a princess of Lyria."
Tissaia closes her eyes. "Are you telling me that you have abducted a royal child and brought her to Aretuza?"
Head whipping around, Yennefer frowns. "I have not-"
"Keep your voice down," Tissaia hisses. "My ears cannot take another minute of her crying."
Rolling her eyes, Yennefer does as she's told and lowers her voice. "I didn't abduct her." She turns away. "Her prick of a father sent an assassin after her mother. I have to assume he didn't give a shit about whether or not his daughter was caught in the crossfire."
Tissaia sighs. Uncaring fathers are something of a sore point for Yennefer, understandably. But that doesn't mean that this is an acceptable turn of events.
"And what are you proposing we do with her?" Tissaia asks.
"I don't know, Tissaia," Yennefer's voice is weary, heavier than Tissaia's ever heard it. "I was being pursued by an assassin intent on killing me. I didn't think that far ahead."
"Nothing much has changed there, then," Tissaia snipes before she can stop herself.
Yennefer glares and pulls away from Tissaia, swinging her legs around to stand up, but Tissaia catches her arm. "I apologise. I'm just-" She presses a hand to her forehead. "It has been a stressful few hours. You were bleeding, the child was screaming and I-" She shakes her head. "I'm sorry."
Relenting, Yennefer stays where she is. "My shoulder still hurts."
"It's still open. I need to heal it," Tissaia says, moving closer to Yennefer's new position.
She casts a healing enchantment to close the wound. Yennefer hisses as the spell starts to knit the skin of her shoulder together. Without thinking, Tissaia lays a hand against the bare skin of her back, rubbing gently as the magic does its work.
"Why did you come here?" she asks, trying to keep her voice gentle.
"I think I've already mentioned the man trying to killing me with his giant fucking spider," Yennefer says, trying to look over her shoulder at the wound, which is now almost completely healed.
"Yes, but why here?" Tissaia presses. Yennefer has been away from Aretuza for decades. Tissaia has no doubt that she has, in that time, found many places to hide if required.
"I- I don't know." Yennefer shakes her head. "I didn't specifically conjure a portal to come here. For one thing, I never thought it possible." She frowns at Tissaia. "Why don't you have wards up around your quarters? That's foolhardy, Rectoress."
Tissaia hums her agreement, focussed on finishing the healing, and doesn't bother to tell Yennefer that she does have wards up, but that Yennefer seemed to breach them with no effort whatsoever. "So, you're telling me you came here without conscious thought?"
"I just-" She pauses and, for a moment, Tissaia thinks she's not going to continue. But she starts to speak again. "I remember thinking I wanted to be safe. That I wanted to be able to stop running and just breathe for a moment." She glances over her shoulder again. "And I ended up on your floor. Make of that what you will."
Tissaia could make rather a lot of it. She could deduce that Yennefer, for all her bluster and bravado, actually thinks of Aretuza as home. She might conclude that, when all is said and done, Yennefer knows in her heart that Tissaia will do everything in her power to keep her safe.
Rather than say any of this, she stands and rolls her sleeves back down before moving to a set of drawers and locating a sleeping shift. She turns and her words catch in her throat when she sees Yennefer sitting there, topless, on her bed. Despite her somewhat sickly pallor, she is still unnervingly beautiful. Collecting herself, Tissaia clears her throat. Yennefer looks up and Tissaia keeps their eyes locked, pointedly, as she approaches, holding out the garment.
"Here. This might not be what you would normally wear to sleep in, but it will do for tonight."
Yennefer manages a cheeky wink. "Have you put a lot of thought into what I might wear to bed, Tissaia?"
"As someone who had to drag you out of bed on multiple occasions," Tissaia says, lifting an eyebrow. "If memory serves, the answer to that is 'nothing'."
"That could be arranged, if you'd prefer. And my body is much more pleasant to look at these days," Yennefer says, grinning when Tissaia narrows her eyes. "Fine. I'll put this on to spare your blushes." She shakes out the shift and wrinkles her nose. "You were right. This is nothing like what I'd choose to sleep in." She stands and wobbles on her feet. Tissaia steps closer and grasps her arm, keeping her upright.
"As I said, you-"
"Lost a lot of blood, yes." Yennefer rolls her eyes. "And once again I find myself in your debt for saving my pitiful life."
"You probably wouldn't have died," Tissaia says, averting her eyes as Yennefer shimmies out of her ruined dress, staying close in case she loses balance again. "Unless infection had set in." To distract herself from Yennefer's now almost completely naked body, Tissaia picks up the sleeping shift and yanks it over her head, pulling it down over her shoulders.
Yennefer watches her quizzically as they work together to get her arms in the correct holes. "I could have done that myself."
Tissaia rolls her eyes. "And taken all day about it, no doubt." She nods to the bed. "Get in before you fall down."
Yennefer all but collapses back to the bed and Tissaia lifts her legs in. She's pulling the blankets up when Yennefer catches her wrist and she looks up at her. Her eyes have gained a little more of their usual vitality, though her eyelids are heavy, and her lips have curled into their usual smirk.
"Will you be joining me, Rectoress?" she asks, her voice low. "It is your bed, after all. I would hate to keep you from it."
Tissaia swallows and takes a breath in the hope of stemming the heat rising up her neck before Yennefer notices. "I am going to gather what is needed to deal with the infant you have acquired," she tells her, gruffly.
A thumb traces up her wrist, under her sleeve. "You won't turn her into an eel while I'm asleep, will you?"
The gentle teasing eases a little of the tension in Tissaia's shoulders and she rolls her eyes, tucking the blankets more snugly around Yennefer. "I'll try to refrain from doing so," she says, stepping far enough away that Yennefer has to let go of her arm. "Try to rest. We'll talk about the child in the morning."
Yennefer nods, her face losing its mirth and settling into something more genuine. "Thank you," she says, quietly. "You didn't need to do all this." She blinks, her eyes staying closed for a little longer than they should. "After how I left things here, with you, you'd have been within your rights to throw me out."
Tissaia pauses. The apology had been unexpected, the acknowledgement of their past even more so. But it's late and Yennefer does need rest. So she just nods. "You were my charge once, Yennefer. While you clearly think me emotionless, I do...care for my girls."
Lips twitching into a soft smile, Yennefer's eyes grow heavier by the second. "I wish you'd told us that back then."
Tissaia closes her eyes, inhaling through her nose. She has no answer for that. Her manner has always been to show her girls the harsh realities of life. To make them resilient and strong. What good would it do for her to coddle them when others would not? She opens her eyes to respond, but finds Yennefer has fallen asleep. Her mouth is slightly open, her lips puff out with each slow breath she releases and Tissaia's stomach clenches at the sight. She makes herself turn away, pushes down whatever inconvenient feelings might threaten to surface.
When she has almost centered herself, there's a rustling from the crate and Tissaia lets her head tip back to look at the ceiling just as a slow wail starts up.
It seems like she's in for a long night.