i honestly wasn't expecting this to be done as early as it is, but i figured i'd hate myself more if i waited to post it even after what i said yesterday, so here it is, the first chapter of the thanedd arc. this is another one of those parts that was in my head very early on, though it didn't fall into place in the plot for a while, so honestly i'm kinda nervous about posting it. there's a lot that's going to happen very quickly now so i should probably just shut up and let you read it lol –bel
A Wolf Among Lilacs
Part Two: Hope/Fear
Chapter Twenty-Two: The Isle Of Flightless Birds
He hadn't expected to see her at the hotel. After what had happened in Vengerberg, he wouldn't have been surprised if she'd decided not to show up at all. But when Val arrived and went to the front desk he was surprised to find that someone had already checked into their room—and there was only one other person who would've been able to do that. The room they had booked was on the fifth floor, but he took the stairs instead of the elevator, too impatient to wait for it to come down to him. His hand was shaking slightly as he unlocked the door, though he didn't know why. He had nothing to be nervous about. After all, it was her who owed him an explanation.
The room itself, when he entered, looked immaculate, as if nobody had yet been in it—but he saw Yennefer's suitcase tucked in a corner, the garment bag that held her dress in the small, open closet. There was a light on in the bathroom to his right, and the door was cracked slightly. She knew he'd be there. He set his bag down on the floor and pushed the door open fully, not wanting to give her any more time to realize he'd arrived and figure out some way to avoid him. She'd drawn a bath in the massive tub and was sitting in it, the clouded water up to her shoulders. She opened her eyes and watched him as he came in and knelt next to her.
"I wasn't sure if you were going to be here," she said quietly.
He cleared his throat. "To be quite honest, I was wondering the same thing about you."
"Please. I wouldn't have been able to get out of this even if I'd wanted to. I've been nominated for the Council."
"If you'd been intent on staying away you would've been able to—wait. What?" He hadn't heard anything about a Council nomination. There was an open seat, everyone knew that, but the process by which the remaining members elected a new one was quite secretive, and for good reason. It was put in place to prevent people outside the group lobbying for candidates and allowed them to choose one based solely on their merit. And Yenna would be an excellent choice, there was no denying that—if she had any interest in politics at all. He suspected it was Philippa's doing. She'd been talking her up for years.
Yennefer sighed, sitting up and turning to face him, resting one of her arms on the lip of the tub. Water dripped from her fingers and onto the floor. "I'm not supposed to be telling you this at all," she said. "Considering they might not even elect me. At this point, though…" She pressed her lips together, let them pull apart slowly. She wouldn't meet his gaze. "It seems likely they will."
He had been hoping, though rather vainly, that he would be able to talk to her about what he'd seen at her townhouse—about the file—but he knew now that wouldn't happen. He wondered how long this had been taking up space in her mind, how long she'd known but hadn't mentioned it. "Did Philippa drag you into this?" he asked, a bit harsher than intended. "You should really talk to her about how often she—"
"She had nothing to do with this." Her voice was tight, as were her fingers around the tub's edge. She had always been one to let her hands do the talking, whatever it was that meant at any given time. "From what I've been told, actually, she tried to speak out against giving me the position. None of the others would hear it, not after she spent all this time promoting me."
He frowned. Yenna didn't exactly have any other friends on the Council, or the Chapter for that matter. It could've been Tissaia de Vries, considering they were part of the same line, but she was known to be choosy when it came to these elections, and she wouldn't throw her weight behind a candidate for nepotism alone. Besides, the position normally required a background in mage politics, and despite the fact that she was extremely well-rounded educationally—more so than most mages—Yenna didn't have that.
"If it wasn't her," he said slowly, "then who—?"
"I'd rather not talk about it." It wouldn't be worth it to argue; despite her choice of words, her tone quite clearly said I won't talk about it. There was no point in pushing her. It would only exhaust them both. "Besides, I thought you'd come to talk about something else."
It was surprising to him that she was willing to broach the subject at all, but now that she'd given him an opening to do it, he wasn't going to let it go to waste. Still, when he opened his mouth to speak, nothing came out at first. How did he broach such a sensitive subject? "I—I just—" He exhaled, reached up and covered her hand with his. Surprisingly, she didn't pull away. "You've had ten years to tell me, Yenna. Why didn't you?"
"I've had seven years to tell you." She looked down at his hands, at how he gripped her wrist; tight, insistent, but not strong enough to hurt her. She hadn't taken her rings off. "And it wouldn't have been worth it to tell you in the first place. It doesn't matter now."
It doesn't matter now. How many times had he heard her say those words, trying to brush something off, expecting that it would be enough for him? It was what she'd told him every time he tried to have more than a surface-level conversation with her for three years, while she stayed in self-imposed isolation on the third floor of his house. Even after those initial barriers between them had been broken—in rather spectacular fashion, given the circumstances—it remained her default answer, the one she used to tell him that she didn't want to talk anymore. It hadn't used to bother him as much as it did, but then she'd returned from a sudden trip to Toussaint with a new scar and increased reluctance to talk to him about anything that didn't involve him directly. He'd proposed to her only a few weeks later, thinking it would bring them closer again. It had not.
"Sounds an awful lot like it does." She made a noise that might have been a laugh and smiled a little. They'd rarely agreed on anything. It hadn't been a hindrance to either of them until recently. Now, all he thought about when he saw her was whether or not they would fight again.
"Well." She sighed, turned her hand over to lace her fingers with his. The gesture surprised him more than it should have. Indications of her affection had grown rare. "It doesn't. But if you want to talk about it later, we can."
For a moment, he was too surprised to speak. He'd never gotten a concession like that out of her, not once in the ten years they'd known each other. He didn't understand why it would be less painful for her to talk about something like that, as opposed to whatever was going on with her Council nomination, but he'd take what he could get. "You mean that?"
"Yes. But listen." She was sitting up straighter now, gripping his hand tightly. A few strands of her hair had come loose from where she'd pinned them at the top of her head. If she noticed, she didn't care. "Everyone's going to be watching us tonight. I wouldn't be surprised if there have been rumors circulating since the last conference, considering you didn't stay."
He knew it was considered a faux pas to show up to only part of the conference. If one was going to be there, it was expected that they'd stay for the duration. But it had only taken one day for him to tire of the constant politics, so he'd left. A mistake. "Yenna, you know I—"
"Hate these things, yes, I know. That wasn't intended as a judgement on you. But it means there will be a lot of eyes on us now." She was looking at him directly for what felt like the first time in months. For all he could remember, it might very well have been. "For both our sakes, you need to pretend you're enjoying yourself. And if, gods willing, I get elected to this position, at least try to look happy for me."
It was a lot to ask, and they both knew it. He wasn't exactly the best actor, and he'd made no secret of his distaste for these formal gatherings. But she was looking at him so insistently that he found he couldn't say no. He nodded, and she relaxed visibly.
"Well. Now that that's settled." She stood suddenly, reaching for a large towel from a rack on the wall and wrapping herself in it. As she did so, she eyed him up and down critically. "You've got quite a bit of getting ready to do."
~oOo~
"Remind me again why I agreed to go to this thing," Geralt grumbled, tugging on the sleeve of his suit jacket. He'd been wearing it for less than an hour and he was already dying to take it off; there weren't many occasions for a witcher to dress up, and he couldn't even remember the last time he'd worn a suit, let alone for this long. All he could hope was that the banquet wouldn't last into the night—or, at least, if it did, it wouldn't be considered a breach of etiquette for him to leave early. Mages were always concerned about those sorts of things.
"If I knew, I would tell you." Triss had seemed as surprised at his sudden acceptance of her invitation as he himself was; more, if that was possible. But she'd taken it in stride, even expressing relief that she wouldn't have to go along as 'Yenna's third wheel,' a role she was all too familiar with. The two of them were standing outside the entrance to the main hall, off to the side, as people streamed in. Many of them cast sideways glances in his direction, but he tried his best to ignore them. "But it's good that you did. One more person to keep an eye on things, at least."
The Council seat. He'd nearly forgotten about it, only to remember as he was packing that it was, theoretically, the reason Triss had asked him. They wanted as many people in her corner there as possible, without drawing too much attention. But as she stood across from him, her chestnut hair partially pinned back from her face, dressed in a gown that was, perhaps, a little more low-cut and close-fitting than what he'd thought she would wear to this sort of thing, he had to wonder if she didn't have an ulterior motive.
"We should go in now," she said. "It's rude to linger outside for too long. But first—" She reached into the very small bag she had brought and pulled out some kind of small pendant, set with a stone, which she tucked into the pocket of his jacket. His medallion pulsed sharply once it was settled there. "To keep the others from reading your thoughts," she explained. "Technically, manners would forbid it at a thing like this, but since you're not part of the crowd that usually attends, people might think it's safe to try something, and we can't have that. We don't want anyone knowing the reason you're actually here."
He nodded in agreement—no, he didn't want anyone to know that, even if his own real reason was different from the one Triss thought it was. They were all part of the same thread. "Thanks, Triss."
"Don't thank me." She smiled a little and slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow as they started to make their way into the main hall. "I'm horrible at enchanting stones."
He didn't have time to ponder the implications of that sentence, because the spectacle of the main hall had caught his attention. It was easily one of the most massive rooms he'd ever been in, with ceilings so high he couldn't make out what was painted on them, and stained glass windows that seemed to take up most of the walls. There were a few wide, shallow steps at the other end, leading to what was presumably a stage, albeit a low one, and he could make out the sound of a violin somewhere in the room, though it was dim under the chatter of what had to be at least a hundred people. Most of them milled around the various tables placed around the room's perimeter, which were piled high with various foods. There wasn't a single chair in sight.
"So we're banqueting standing up, then?" he asked Triss quietly, picking up a glass of wine from a tray proffered to him by a man standing near the door, likely for just this purpose. Triss nodded.
"The whole point of these things is to talk to people. Easier to do that when you're not assigned a seat." She took a glass as well, smiling in thanks and gently tugging on his arm to get him to move further into the room. He didn't see anyone he recognized as he looked around, which only made him more thankful for the charm Triss had given him. Regis would be there sooner or later—he probably already was—but he would have no trouble blending in effortlessly with this crowd. Geralt wondered if he attended the banquets regularly; he was under the impression that he'd been working on research jointly with Yennefer, so it seemed likely.
"Speaking of talking to people," he muttered as they walked, trying to scan the room, "did you happen to see—?"
"Oh, finally, there you are!" They turned to see a very disgruntled and impatient Philippa Eilhart in a deeply-cut red gown, the neckline of which was lined with conveniently placed flowers. Despite this, based on his glance around the room, it still seemed less showy than what three-quarters of the guests were wearing. She grabbed Triss by the arm, barely even sparing a glance at Geralt. "We've been waiting for you. There are photographers here, and they want all four of us."
"Of course they do." Triss rolled her eyes. "And Yenna's okay with this?"
"She's going to have to be." Philippa lowered her voice, and Triss leaned in slightly. Geralt didn't have to, but he focused on her words more intently all the same. "Listen—I don't have any actual proof as of now, but I've a strong suspicion that someone leaked the list of potential candidates for this open seat, because people have been sucking up to her since the second she walked through the door."
"Fantastic. Exactly what we needed right now. Well, I suppose I'd better go over there, then." She looked guiltily up at Geralt. "Sorry for leaving you so early. I'll be back as soon as we're done, though."
"It's fine," he said, though fine was the last thing it was. He hated mages (with a few specific exceptions), hated politics, and mixing the two together was something he'd hoped he'd never have to deal with. "I'll just go see if I can find—"
"Regis is over there," Philippa said, nodding towards a table on the opposite side of the room. "Be warned, though—he's got company."
And with that they were gone, the only proof that they had even been there the lingering scent of cinnamon and muskroot. Geralt stared after them for a moment, then sighed and headed off in the direction Philippa had indicated, hoping he didn't get stopped. He could sense several pairs of eyes on him, could even feel his medallion vibrating every once in a while as someone brazenly tried to read his mind. Whenever it happened, he sensed a slight warmth coming from the amulet in his pocket. Clearly, it was doing its job.
He hadn't been certain what Philippa meant when she said 'company,' but when he finally spotted Regis, now two tables down from where he'd initially thought, he was unpleasantly surprised to see Istredd there as well, talking to him. From a distance, it looked like any other conversation, but as he approached he could tell they were both tense. He could only assume that they'd put aside whatever problems they had with each other for that night.
Regis, at least, looked happy to see him, embracing him and clapping him on the back after Geralt set down his untouched wine glass on the nearest table. He was dressed in more or less the same thing Geralt was, but he looked infinitely more comfortable in it. Geralt wondered if it was because he came to these things often or simply because he'd had hundreds of years to learn how to deal with uncomfortable clothing. "Have you been here long?" he asked, turning to look at the food on the table.
"Since this morning," Regis replied. "Most of us were here early, given the circumstances."
He cast his gaze over to Istredd, who was watching him intensely and suspiciously, as if he knew something that even Geralt himself didn't. The last time they'd spoken, Geralt had reassured him that there was nothing to worry about considering his relationship with Yennefer—but that had been before Novigrad, before Vengerberg, before whatever it was that stirred in his chest if he so much as thought about her. And he'd been thinking about her all evening. He wondered if Istredd would be so bold as to try and read those thoughts while Geralt was standing only a few feet away.
But he didn't. Not that Geralt knew, at least, and he would have known. "Witcher," he said coldly, nodding in Geralt's direction. He returned the gesture with a slight tilt of his own head, but surreptitiously tried to keep an eye on the people around him. "When Yenna said there was a chance you would be here, I nearly didn't believe her."
His throat tightened at the idea of Yennefer talking about him to other people, but his voice was smooth as he replied. "Why's that? You really don't think she would lie to you?"
"No. Of course she wouldn't." He looked offended that he would even suggest such a thing. "But you didn't give me the impression you would care much for get-togethers like this."
"You don't either," Regis interrupted, to Geralt's everlasting gratitude. It had only been a minute or two and he was already beginning to tire of Istredd and his condescending attitude. He'd already made it clear what his opinions on witchers in general, and Geralt in particular, were. "So you've not much room to speak."
"Quite true." From the way he looked at him, Geralt was beginning to wonder if Istredd liked Regis even less than he liked him. Considering how closely he worked with Yennefer, it was entirely possible. He didn't seem to like anyone who was close to Yennefer. "But what I do have is a reason to be here. I know about the announcement that might very well be made later." He turned back to Geralt. "You, however, don't have any excuse."
I heard about the nomination before you did, he wanted to say, but he kept it to himself. He wasn't sure how much Istredd knew about Yennefer's excursion to Novigrad. Given what had happened between them afterwards, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn she'd told him she went alone. She hadn't exactly hidden the fact that he didn't want her to go at all. "I'm here because Triss asked me to be here," Geralt said, trying to disguise his anger. "And that's all the excuse you need."
"Of course," he said smoothly. "If you'll excuse me." He set his own glass down on the table and left. Geralt tried to hide his relief initially, but when he saw Regis looking the same way, he couldn't help but chuckle.
"He doesn't like you much either, does he?"
"Not a bit. He has certain misconceptions about my relationship with Yennefer."
"Such as?" Geralt picked up several prawns from the table and shoved them into his mouth one after the other. He wasn't sure if it was from magical enhancement or simply because he hadn't eaten for several hours, but he thought it might be one of the best things he'd ever tasted.
"She first contacted me about matters outside of her studies when she was sixteen. We were…working quite closely at the time." He couldn't quite place the expression on Regis's face, but it definitely wasn't a pleasant one. "You can see how he drew his own conclusions from there."
"Ah." He could see it, all too easily, at that. He could also see how it would be more than a little hypocritical of Istredd to be making those judgements, given the gap between him and Yennefer. But he didn't want to talk about that now—in fact, he'd love to just forget that Istredd existed and spend the rest of the evening focusing on other things. "So when will they…you know?"
"Any time now." Regis frowned as he picked up Geralt's abandoned wine glass, clearly with no intention of drinking it. "As soon as the rest of the Chapter and Council are here, they'll likely have someone announce it."
"What do you think are her chances?"
He sighed. His eyes had suddenly become fixed on something behind Geralt, a few tables down, but he was hesitant to turn and find out what it was. "When you take into account the people who are actually part of these groups…good for her. More than good. Unless she's got some very fervent opponents, she's going to get the spot." There was another unreadable expression creeping up on his face as he nodded in the direction of whatever it was he was looking at. "Then again, you could always ask her yourself."
His breath caught in his throat as he turned and there she was, standing only a table away now, talking to another dark-haired sorceress. She was dressed, compared to most of the others he'd seen, quite modestly, in a long and very detailed black dress that only left her shoulders and arms partially visible through the sheer fabric. He wondered if she was trying to call attention to herself or divert it. When he thought about how she'd reacted to the news of her nomination, he was inclined to believe the latter—she'd want as little attention as possible tonight. But now that he'd seen her, he was positive he wouldn't be able to take his eyes off her, especially when she waved her hand in response to something the other woman said and Geralt caught a flash of silver on her wrist.
He turned partially back to Regis, making sure she stayed in the corner of his vision. He didn't know if he'd get a chance to actually speak to her. "She's…"
He'd had no idea how he was going to finish the sentence, but Regis seemed to take it in stride. "Yes, it appears that in trying to blend in, she's only managed to stand out more. I wouldn't be surprised if anyone assumed that she already knew the position was hers, and dressed accordingly."
Geralt was about to reply when, as if summoned by them talking about her, Yennefer turned, and locked eyes with him. She looked him up and down critically, raised an eyebrow, and turned to the woman she'd been talking to, who was wearing a far more revealing black dress and also staring at him, but in a much different way. After what he had to assume was some sort of hasty goodbye, Yennefer came over to them, holding a wine glass that was far emptier than Geralt's had been.
"Someone definitely leaked the list," she said to Regis with absolutely no greeting whatsoever. "I just had to spend ten minutes fending off Sabrina Glevissig's not-terribly-subtle questions about how I'd even been considered in the first place."
"You have to have expected this," Regis said, not without sympathy. It seemed as though everyone knew what the problem with the situation was except for Geralt, as usual. He had stopped being fazed by it. "Tissaia is a member of the Chapter, and Philippa is already on the Council. It's the same situation you and Triss have been dealing with for years. People talk."
"It's a bit different being on the other end of that situation." She raised her glass and took a very long drink. Surprisingly, it looked as though she hadn't drank any when she lowered it again. The amount of wine in the glass was the same. "I don't know how she does it."
"But you know why. And that makes all the difference."
Yennefer lowered her eyes for a moment, then turned away from Regis abruptly. "Yes. Which is why I'd rather not discuss it here. Hello, Geralt." She tilted her head as she looked him over again, biting her lip briefly. "Lovely outfit. You look…dashing."
"Thank you. You're…" She smiled a little as he tried to think of a word that would somehow adequately sum up what he'd felt when he first saw her. "Dazzling."
He could've been imagining it. It could've been his own desires playing tricks on him. But he thought he saw her blush, ever so slightly, before she lifted her glass to her lips again. Geralt looked at it, confused. If she'd been drinking wine, he'd have been able to smell it, considering their close proximity. But he didn't smell wine—he didn't smell anything at all, besides lilac and gooseberries. "That wine—"
"Is illusory," she said, cutting him off as she tilted the glass. "Philippa's quite good at them. I don't drink. I haven't in quite some time, actually. But abstaining makes one look out of place here." She looked around at the crowd, which had suddenly begun to part—the Chapter and Council would be coming in at any moment, he had to assume. "Though sometimes it feels as if getting drunk would be the best way to cope with everything that goes on here." She eyed his empty hands, a question that she didn't need to ask.
"I'm not gonna drink," he said, unaware of when he'd actually made that decision. "Why dull my senses when I'm in such pleasant company?"
She raised her eyebrow at him again, this time with considerably more skepticism. "Do you plan to compliment me all evening?"
"I plan to tell you what I think."
He wasn't sure where the words had come from, but he knew somehow that they were the right ones, as she raised the rim of her glass to her lips to hide her expression. He wanted to say more—though if he'd already rendered her speechless, he probably didn't need to—but at that moment a smattering of applause caught his ear from the doors, and it rippled down the room in waves as the people who he could only assume were the Chapter and Council filed in, in groups of two or three. The crowd had left them a clear path to the raised stage at the far end of the room. He turned to Yennefer as they began to process past them. "Mind filling me in?"
"Not at all." Her expression barely changed, but it seemed as though she was relieved at the distraction, though still tense. She nodded towards the two leading the others: a middle-aged man in modest clothing, next to a tall, sharp-featured woman with dark hair. "The man is Gerhart of Aelle, sometimes called Hen Gedymdeith, the oldest living mage. Beside him is Tissaia de Vries, former rectoress of Aretuza. Among other things." There was something tight in her voice, but he ignored it and moved his attention to the next pair—a golden-haired woman in a grey-green lace dress, on the arm of Vilgefortz of Roggeveen. "Francesca Findabair, also known as Enid an Gleanna, the Daisy of the Valleys. And I believe you've already had the pleasure of meeting Vilgefortz." The tone of her voice clearly indicated that she didn't think it was a pleasure at all.
He nodded, still looking at Francesca. "She's a member of the chapter? She looks…very young."
"She's a pure-blooded elf." Sometime during the quiet introductions, Triss had slipped up beside Geralt, and she squeezed his arm gently in a gesture of apology. Yennefer was looking strangely at them, but didn't say anything about it, only continued.
"The man walking behind Vilgefortz is Artaud Terranova, and those five are the Chapter. The three at the end are Fercart of Cidaris, Radcliffe of Oxenfurt and Carduin of Lan Exter. And you already know Philippa, of course."
By the time she finished, the procession had reached the stage, and they filed on one by one to stand in a perfectly straight line several feet back from the edge—all except Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, who stepped up to a podium that definitely hadn't been there when Geralt first came in. Around the same time, Istredd joined the small group that had congregated around Yennefer. The crowd fell nearly silent. Beside him, Yennefer drew in a quiet breath.
"Good evening," he said in a tone that was presumably meant to be amiable, though to Geralt it only sounded fake, sugar-coated, like the way he'd talked to Yennefer at her house in Vengerberg. Nearly everyone else in the room was riveted by him. "I think I speak for all of us when I say we're glad to see so many of you here. We've got an excellent lineup of speakers and presenters over the next several days—people who are pushing the boundaries of magic and science to their absolute limits." He paused and looked around the room. It seemed like his eyes stayed on Geralt a moment longer than they should have, but his gaze had moved on before he could even begin to think about what that could mean. "But I know you're all here tonight for only one thing."
Another pause. He was stringing the audience along. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yennefer slip her hand into Istredd's and grip it tightly. The sight made him burn.
"It's been no secret that ever since Sheala de Tancarville resigned from her Council position, the rest of us have been in talks regarding who will fill that spot. It's been difficult, and there were many promising candidates, but after much deliberation we've found someone we think fits the bill quite nicely."
There was light, overly polite applause at this, and he waited for it to die down before he continued, a small smile on his face. "As I'm sure you all know, the focus of the Council, as well as the Chapter, is split equally between politics and research. Sometimes this balance is difficult to keep. Sometimes a member leans too far to one side, and tips the scales for everyone else. Despite this, we thought it was best if, considering the open position was left vacant by an academic, it be filled by an academic, and out of every person whose name was put forth as a possibility, only one seemed to truly fit that position. In fact, we found there was no need to look farther back than just over a decade—to the youngest Aretuza graduate in recent history. I hope you'll all join me in welcoming Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg to the Supreme Council."
Yennefer sucked in another near-silent breath beside him as heads started to turn in her direction. Geralt clenched his jaw. The crowd was applauding again, though it seemed somewhat subdued this time. There had to be some who were upset by this. Yennefer was young even by mage standards, and they'd likely passed up several people who might have been more qualified, not to mention more interested in politics. But that didn't matter now. She handed her glass of illusory wine to Istredd and began to make her way up to the stage, a look on her face that anyone else might have mistaken for a smile.
She only looked back once. When she did, it was at Geralt.
idk when the next chapter will be up because i'm working chapter-to-chapter right now and things are rough. the original schedule says wednesday, so hopefully i can make that happen and have it not be hot garbage, but be prepared for a slightly longer wait if it comes to that. i really don't want there to be more than a week at most between these chapters
