Chapter Text
Sabrina leaned back against the soft library sofa and looked down at the parchment in her hand, bewildered. After the whirlwind of the first few days, of watching a fellow student's hand wither and fade and remain that way, watching the same girl clutch the assignment carefully with her other hand and examine its neat lines and rows while their classmates giggled quietly at their theory assignment was a complete departure —and here she snorted in the privacy of her mind — from the chaos of it all.
Tissaia had sat them down in groups of threes, assigning them different roles, with the goal of learning the intricacies of courtroom politics. They would play out various scenarios over and over until they could not only know what pithy response to give without having to think about it, but also inhabit the minds of those they were advising without them ever knowing.
Apparently, where magic was a chaotic thing to learn and a wild thing to teach, humans were plain and predictable and simple to comprehend. Humans, in Tissaia’s eyes, were easily understood and easily manipulated.
Sabrina observed Tissaia observing them, her sharp mind examining her students for flaws and for corrections, even now calling out Anica for her slouch as it was ‘unbecoming for the monarch she was playing.’
Grinning at Anica’s misfortune, she looked back at her group members – Fringilla Vigo and Yennefer of Vengerberg – as they examined their own, apparently more detailed roles.
There was Fringilla – sweet, lonely Fringilla – who was eager, if not a little spoiled. Or maybe naive was the better word? Whichever it was, her attitude had been kindly met with the merciless learning curve that led to her now ruined hand resting uselessly on her lap.
Then there was Yennefer.
Sabrina initially found her a bizarre mix of both timid and brash, holding herself awkwardly with the other girls, but also never backing down from a challenge or a lesson. Her social skills were lacking, but where her initial silence led to the idea of her timidity, everyone was quickly learning the truth of her.
A determined and biting truth.
There were girls in the cohort that were growing increasingly wary of Yennefer, afraid to be on the wrong side of her when she lashed out. Sabrina saw it differently. She was like a pitiful dog on a leash, biting not only the hand she perceived as a threat but also the hand that fed her, while at the same time seeking validation for the paltry party tricks she could perform. The poor thing was so starved for attention and affection it made her an easy target, and Sabrina saw this as the opportunity it was.
It was simple enough to set up an obviously laid trap disguised as a challenge and watch her foolishly rise to it, unwilling to back down. Without failure, Tissaia would see it and provide a biting comment that Yennefer would always take to heart even if she tried to appear unaffected. It did mean Tissaia would give Sabrina a glare as well, but it was always worth the show.
After catching both of their eyes, Sabrina opened the parchment she had folded while waiting for the other two members to finish their parts and read their roles to them, repeating the instructions in the same dry tone she imagined Tissaia using, “There is a brewing conflict on the horizon. The monarch in charge,” and here she tilted her head towards Fringilla, “wishes to charge. It is the court mage’s,” and then at Yennefer, “responsibility to ensure this does not happen. Your goal is to inhabit each role fully and reach a compromise together.”
“That’s it?” Fringilla asked.
“That’s it,” Sabrina replied. “Well… start, I guess.”
Fringilla straightened up in her chair, trying to get in the right mindset. “Their king will not listen to reason. The time for talks is over. We must act now,” she started, in a tone that appeared to echo the dear uncle she had already mentioned more than once in passing.
Several times, in fact.
So much so that it felt like Sabrina already knew the man despite never spending a second with him. He was ‘wise’ and ‘benevolent’ and most likely another arrogant ass on a council filled with them — if she was correct in what she had gleaned from the brief times Tissaia mentioned the council and their decisions, her eyes tightened and her neatly held hands clenched. If this was the wisdom he peddled that was now being repeated by Fringilla, it was wisdom that Sabrina would have to remember well; it would come in good use when she had to manipulate like-minded idiots in the future. At the very least, it was proving effective in “inhabiting the minds that we will be advising” and useful for this exact activity.
It was curious, however, that despite his attitude so present in the advice she repeated, Sabrina found this same attitude was not inherited by his niece. Only present was his mere words. To her, it felt like Fringilla repeated them like a nervous man rubbing his fingers together on a precious charm bought from a local hedge witch — it brought comfort even if the charm was utterly devoid of any real magic, or in this case, any words of real worth.
Her and Yennefer, both so unsure of themselves and taking such different paths.
Embracing the role, Fringilla continued, “If we strike now, we can unbalance their army and swiftly take the victory.”
Sabrina could imagine Fringilla’s uncle speaking to her, waving his hands about to emphasize a point as he explained some high convoluted idea, now mirrored in Fringilla as she ended her part with her fist slamming on her lap, in a move she made both fierce and gentle. As if believing this to be a move people in power did, but unable to fully commit to the act.
In counter to Fringilla’s bold emotional start, Yennefer started with a different approach, an approach Sabrina had not yet seen deployed in her own personal conflicts and was half-shocked to hear from her, even though it was what was expected.
“Your Majesty, this attack will bring more bloodshed than needed. We can resolve this peacefully and avoid a fight altogether.”
Sabrina raised an eyebrow in amusement. Yennefer of Vengerberg had never resolved anything by avoiding a fight.
And in this case?
It showed.
She looked uncomfortable playing a peacemaker role and it was a role wholly unfamiliar to her. There was no hesitance in her words nor in her judgment — in this way she carried herself with the same level of blustering confidence she always did — but there was a stiffness to her words and a lack of ease in her movements.
Fringilla seemed to pay little mind to Yennefer or her discomfort, instead warming up to her own role and starting to truly embody the power hungry king she was pretending to play. It felt like further confirmation that wherever she was raised it was one where she had many examples to draw on for arrogance.
“You think to solve this with a simple talk? After what they did to us? After the ridicule and embarrassment? I would be a fool to take your advice. Aretuza should have sent me a better mage.”
Fringilla ended her speech with a scoff, dismissing Yennefer with a wave of her hand.
She was enjoying this, Sabrina realized, having fun with the role and confident in something that was finally familiar to her. It was the most outspoken she had been in class since the incident, and Sabrina decided, a good look on her. Looking at her hand, Fringilla deserved to have some fun and play a silly little role of an overbearing ruler.
And Yennefer, someone who did not back down from a challenge, could rise to the role and have some fun with it too. Meet brashness with brashness, something that already came so easily to her.
Sabrina turned back to Yennefer and realized quickly she did not agree with her assessment.
Sabrina had become very acquainted with the frustrations of Yennefer of Vengerberg. In the classes on chaos, she was constantly frustrated and what Sabrina thought was even flustered at her own lack of skill. It made any failings on her own part easier to bear; she could glance at Yennefer and know at least she could do better than that.
All of this meant that she could spot her ire after much practice, and frankly, it was easy to notice with how little she did to hide it: her stubborn determination to see things to the end and her frustration at being told to stop or restrain herself.
To her credit, while Yennefer had the beginning looks of someone livid, she did not change course and doubled down on her diplomatic approach – even though it was clear she would have much rather slap Fringilla’s hand out of her face.
How mature of her.
“Your majesty, if I may —”
“No, you may not,” Fringilla cut off.
Sabrina thought of bringing the parchment to her face to hide her growing grin but aborted the motion at the last moment to allow Yennefer to see it in its entirety.
Fringilla continued, narrowing her eyes, “I allowed you this audience but I am beginning to think it a waste. I came for advice on how to move forward, not retreat like a coward. I need to speak with my generals to start a plan that will actually be worth pursuing.”
And with that, Sabrina saw the stubbornness and fury that had been on the back burner arise and come immediately to the forefront. Yennefer looked back at her parchment, her assigned role description and specific duties listed, and stared back with a new resolve on her face.
Or, rather, with a new coy look on her face.
“You do me a great honor of granting this audience, Your Majesty,” Yennefer began, “and I would never forget the gift you give me, providing me your time and your ear.”
Here she ended her statement with a quick move of her chair, bringing her closer to Fringilla, and allowing her to settle a hand on the girl’s forearm.
Yennefer’s new solution to the problem was to attempt to flirt her way through the conversation.
And it was utterly laughable, the attempt.
She continued her seduction by lowering her eyes, biting her lips, moving even closer to Fringilla. She did not stop there — Sabrina noticed with delight — adding further textbook definitions of flirting by lowering her voice and crooning her next words.
By Melitite, she couldn’t look away from the performance.
“Your Majesty, if you give me one more moment of your precious time, I would like to envision the future you have proposed. Yes, you could rush forward, fighting a glorious and wonderful battle for infertile and useless land,” even flirting Yennefer could not stop her sharp tongue, “the people could see you, the people so angry and on the edge of revolt, could see you in charge leading their fathers and brothers to a swift and bloody battle. You would be nothing short of a hero.”
Fringilla’s eyes were wide and shining, nodding almost absently as she leaned closer into Yennefer’s magnetic pull. Even Sabrina was impressed by how well she praised the monarch while also making it very clear what a dumbass she thought they were.
She went to say something, but Yennefer provided no opportunity to do so, finally grabbing Fringilla’s hand between her own. “You would lead them to this victory, and of course it must be you, Your Majesty. No other man could lead them directly in the battlefield. No, of course, but…”
And it was like Fringilla couldn’t help herself, taking the bait.
“But…”
“But, you leave during the height of the rainy season.” And here, Yennefer let out a long sigh, face troubled at the very thought.
“The rainy season?” Fringilla asked, a note of skepticism entering her tone but a smile creeping in as well.
“Yes, the rainy season,” Yennefer said, turning back to Fringilla, a sickly sweet and earnest gleam to her eyes, “There, even atop your horse, mud will stain and ruin your clothes, your boots.''
Sabrina thought she would burst out laughing. As Yennefer said boots, she had used her foot to caress Fringilla’s own leg. She was using everything in her small, pathetic arsenal to present the most asinine argument, cloaking it under layers and layers of flirtation.
The most unbelievable part? That it was totally working.
Sabrina couldn’t stop her rising grin at the look on Fringilla’s face.
She was actually blushing.
Even-tempered, ‘my uncle is on The Council’, Fringilla Vigo was blushing at the over the top lines from Yennefer of Vengerberg.
She was trying to play it off and focus on the task at hand, but it couldn’t be denied – she was blushing so bright that it appeared on even skin as dark as hers. And while she had initially frozen at Yennefer’s physical advances, she had moved her body in the slightest inclination towards the other girl’s advances, practically a roaring welcome from the quiet girl.
And Yennefer, ire gone and replaced with a pleased, self-satisfied grin that would usually trigger a fight or flight response in anyone sane — that neither of her partners heeded; Fringilla too entranced and Sabrina having too much fun to stop her — went in for the kill.
“Why leave behind all of this – your never-ending food, your overflowing drinks, the tender comforts always surrounding you – to trudge in the mud, comforted only by the smell of overripe men on the field. I mean, I would always follow you no matter the discomfort or banality of any field of fighting you would find yourself in, but there would be no chance for your usual pleasures. Or the sweet privacy for meetings like this between you and I.”
Yennefer literally leaned in and whispered this last part into her ear.
Fringilla wasn’t even pretending to maintain eye contact with her anymore, breathing hard, parchment crumpled in her fists.
“You can fight, of course Your Majesty — and it would be glorious… but it would mean leaving and acting and leading . Being on the front lines as a king so involved in his kingdom as you would have to be. Or we–” and here she put special emphasis on we, tucking a stray hair behind Fringilla’s ear, “–could stay here and enjoy the fruits of what we already have.”
Yennefer intertwined her fingers with Fringilla’s withered ones, smiling up at her enticingly – an act so blatant and badly done that it was delightful to watch Fringilla fall for it anyway.
“So the court mage flirts her way out of this situation? And then what? Will the monarch think of her but as another pair of legs to spread beneath them?” Tissaia’s voice cut in from behind Sabrina, making them all jump.
They’d been so engrossed in the roleplay, all three girls had failed to hear her coming from behind them.
“You each have your own rubric with clear guidelines and yet you have failed to perform these roles so utterly that I would feel no remorse nor pity to see either of you fall into ruin. Restart. Fringilla and Sabrina, you perform. Yennefer, you can watch and learn if you refuse to play the appropriate part.”
But as they reshuffled, Sabrina couldn’t help notice that this new dynamic did not disperse: Fringilla played the new role with unfailing determination as always, but her eyes continued to find their way to Yennefer; meanwhile, Yennefer turned her focus to the assignment, already ruminating on the words of Tissaia and her own perceived failures.
As for Sabrina, she played her part, well but with distaste, no longer in the position of mediator. At least, these two were guaranteed to be something fun to watch.