Author's Note:
Fair warning that this fic is about 95% book canon compliant (and only 95% because by the time my beta reminded me that Triss never going back to Foltest/getting involved in politics after Sodden was inaccurate I had written too far ahead and was too lazy to go back and change it) so there WILL be spoilers for the Netflix show from here on out, assuming they still follow book canon. ALTHOUGH WHO KNOWS SINCE WE HAVE ZERO CASTING NEWS ON PHILIPPA AND EVERYONE PRETTY MUCH THINKS SHE'S GONNA GET WRITTEN OUT OR HAVE HER CHARACTER MERGED WITH TISSAIA SO FUCK IT RIGHT HAHAHA KILL ME NOW :)

XVII.

Triss Merigold was dying.

She lay on the ground, with the smoking form of Yoël next to her and the half-dead torso with no arms and no legs screaming its lasts breaths near her feet. Triss saw a head of bright hair matted with blood and dirt and realized it was Coral, but there was nothing to be done as suddenly the sorceress was silent, and all Triss could hear around her were the sounds of death and destruction. Triss couldn't breathe. The pain was so great and she was sticky with blood and for a moment she thought it was the sorceress next to her's, but the horrifying realization that it was her own crippled her more than her wound did as she realized that she was probably going to die there alone, atop Sodden Hill as she fought a war that was barely her own.

When the battle had begun, Triss had thrown up due to her own fear, Yennefer holding her hair back as she emptied the contents of her stomach onto the grass. She so desperately wanted to flee, but instead stood there frozen in fear even after she had instinctively cast a portal to her home in Maribor. Nilfgaard's army was vast and terrifying, and as they surrounded the place they had chosen to make their stand, Triss had to wonder what a handful of mages could do against something like that. Philippa had assured her that they could do quite a lot, but when she saw the look of fear on Triss' face, she cupped her cheek and strongly instructed her to slaughter them all – her own way of asking Triss not to fail, not to die, not to leave her.

But she was going to. She was going to die here alone; without Philippa, without Yennefer. Neither of them wanted Triss there in the first place but Triss had insisted, refusing to be left behind when she believed herself capable enough to help. She knew once she passed that they would forever blame the other for her death, and Triss thought she was choking back tears but instead it was blood and she felt like she was drowning.

There was another bang, someone screamed, and Triss' whole world went black.

Triss didn't know if she was dreaming or if she was dead. The next thing she remembered was lying on a cot in a place that stunk of death just as much as the battlefield did, people around her as a hum of their inaudible words danced around her. Triss faded in and out of consciousness as horrible waves of pain washed through her, her entire body feeling as though it was on fire. She wanted to scream but all she could do was moan pathetically as she wished for death, because it had to be better than this.

"No—! You idiot; she's allergic to potions— use amulets!" Triss heard, and it sounded so much like Philippa that Triss knew she had to have been dreaming because Philippa never sounded terrified, her voice never broke and her tone was never desperate. "I don't fucking care! If you won't treat her properly then I will! Give her to me— get your damn hands off of me!"

Somebody screamed, and Triss faded once more as the pain overwhelmed her senses.

When Triss finally awoke again, she choked back a sob and groaned. She was wrapped in bandages, her body still feeling as though she was burning. "Phil…" she tried, not caring about her own pain for a moment. She needed to know that Philippa was alive. "Yen…" Someone, someone had to be alive, please… she couldn't bear this…

"Triss…!"

Was that Philippa? Triss still couldn't open her eyes the pain was so great, and someone took her hand.

"Tell me… something real…" she begged, needing to know she wasn't dead, that Philippa was really there with her. The hand in her own squeezed hers, and Triss couldn't tell if the desperation was her own, if Philippa was unable to ward herself properly due to her own fear of losing her, or if in her haze of pain as she hovered on the edge of death, Triss was fabricating things that were not really there.

"…I'm terrified."

No, that couldn't be Philippa. The words were honest, and barely more than a whisper. Triss exhaled another sob, but the hand that had been holding her own let go before being placed against her forehead. "Sleep, pet," the voice breathed, and Triss' world went dark once more.

Triss did not know how much time had passed, but the next time she awoke the pain had lessened significantly. Her breathing was still shallow and it hurt every time she moved, but she could finally see and she stared up at the ceiling of the hospital, wondering if any of what she thought had happened since the battle had truly happened, or if it was all just a fever dream. She still could not move enough to see the damage to her body, but Triss could feel that she was badly burned. It felt like it was everywhere, even though she knew she would probably be dead if it was.

"You should have told me she was awake! Move— if you so much as touch me again, I will see that arm removed!"

Philippa.

"No!" Triss choked out, suddenly terrified of Philippa seeing her like this. But she couldn't move and Philippa was demanding and terrifying and always got whatever she wished, and suddenly the other woman was in her room, looking entirely worse for wear. It appeared as though she hadn't slept in days, which made her even more frightening for the poor Healer who did not know how to stop a force as great as Philippa Eilhart.

"They told me you were dead. Your name is on a gravestone, for fuck's sake—"

"What…?" Triss asked, confused and upset and still in so much pain. Philippa looked horribly upset; devastated and angry and so very, very tired. The other woman came to her bedside but did not touch her; suddenly she looked a little terrified of doing so, as though she was afraid that Triss would know the depth of her feelings for her if she did now that she was fully conscious. But Triss couldn't even focus on that; she had so many questions, and she wanted answers before she passed out from the pain again.

"No one recognized you among the survivors. These idiots couldn't even verify your death before they etched your name in stone—"

"Why?" Triss breathed, terrified of the answer. She could feel her burns, but she needed them not to be that bad. She needed to know she would be okay, that she would be beautiful again because the thought of becoming that horribly disfigured girl again frightened her beyond anything else.

"It doesn't matter; you will heal—"

"Phil."

Triss' tone was desperate and pleading. She needed to know the truth. She moaned in pain again as she tried to turn her head to look at the other woman, but she could barely move it and eventually she had to give up, more tears pooling behind her eyes as she realized she must be worse off than she thought.

"Yennefer is blind," Philippa told her instead, trying to change the subject. A tightness enveloped Triss' chest, and the sorrow she felt was exhaled through a shuddered sob. Momentarily, she forgot about her own pain. "I'm sorry. They are treating her, but it may be a long time until she can see again."

It must be horrible if Philippa was apologizing, and that made it so much worse. Triss cried, tears pooling at the crook of her nose before Philippa reached out and delicately wiped them away. "I felt you," she told her softly, and Triss could feel that their bond was open, without any wards or limitations again. Philippa ached so terribly inside, and it tore Triss apart. "It was why I knew you weren't among the dead. Why I was able to come here and find you and recognize you before these idiot Healers did any more damage by trying to treat you with potions. Your chest may never heal properly, and I want to flay them alive for that. At least I got here before they tried to treat the burns on your scalp."

"My…?" Triss exhaled in horror, and Philippa's expression crumbled with regret as she realized she had said too much in her overtired state. Triss could feel it now – where she was burned. Now that she was focusing on it she could pin point the pain; her chest was the worst, but she was also burned on her scalp and half of her face, and Triss realized that meant she must have no hair, that she must look horrible and disfigured with deadened and raw skin hanging off of her.

Her worst fear coming true hit her straight in the chest, and the ugly little girl inside of her screamed.

"Get out— get out!" Triss screeched, suddenly terrified of Philippa seeing her this way. It didn't matter that Philippa knew exactly what she looked like and chose to stay, because the only thing that clutched at Triss' chest was her fear of being tossed aside again because she was ugly, unlovable. The trauma she had experienced as a child collided with the trauma from the hill, and Triss could barely breathe as a panic attack gripped her chest. "Don't look at me— get out!"

"Triss, stop it— I said don't you touch me!" Philippa screamed at one of the Healers before he was blown backwards into a wall. More rushed in to help though, and they were trying to explain to Philippa that she was distressing their patient as Triss continued to scream, yet it took so very long until the mages that had been working with the healers were able to subdue Philippa enough to escort her out of the room.

"Don't let her back," Triss sobbed. "Never let her back…!"

It was a decision the frightened, ugly girl inside of her made instinctively and it was one Triss ended up deeply regretting, but at the time, hiding herself away was the only thing that comforted her, because she wasn't ready for the world to see her yet.

She wasn't ready for her to see her yet.

[x]

It took a very long time until Triss was healed enough to walk around. Even with the help of mages, who sought to honor the injured of Sodden Hill by giving them the best care, the Healers could only do so much. Regrowing and reattaching skin was a lengthy process even when magic was involved, and restoring Yennefer's sight was taking even longer. The moment Triss could move and walk without an endless amount of pain, she found Yennefer in another room down the hall, and sobbed as she climbed into bed with her, clutching her close.

Triss needed comfort from someone she loved who she knew wouldn't take one look at her and run, and Yennefer was that person as she could not look at her at all. She couldn't see anything, she wouldn't realize what had been done to her, and that made her so much safer than Philippa.

"Triss," Yennefer breathed in recognition, and suddenly the younger woman wasn't the only one crying. Yennefer held her to her breast and Triss shuddered as she sobbed, realizing how desperately she needed the affection of another. She had spent the last few weeks lying in a bed and wanting to die. It had been hard for her here; physically, emotionally, psychologically, and it got even worse when the Healers finally told her that the burns on her chest would never heal properly. Her head, her face, yes, eventually… but it did not change the fact that she would forever be marred by her trauma, and wearing it forever devastated Triss in a way she didn't even know how to express.

Now everyone would know the truth of her. What she really was inside.

Yennefer tried to stroke her hair but she had none, and the first touch of the other woman's hand against her scalp made Triss jerk back so badly that she practically tumbled out of the bed she had been sharing with the other woman. "No, don't—!" she begged, but Yennefer was blind, not stupid. She knew what she felt. Her face crumpled.

"Oh, Triss…"

Triss fell to her haunches as she sobbed, her hands wrapping over some of the newly conjured skin that covered her scalp, her fingers rubbing against some of the dead, blackened parts that had yet to be replaced. Some of it flaked off, and Triss wanted to die all over again.

"It's just hair. It'll grow back."

"I know," Triss sobbed. "But I'll never be— they said I'll never be the same. I'm scarred, Yenna. I was so badly burned they didn't know who I was and used potions on me, and my allergy… it…" Triss tried, but she collapsed into tears again. "I thought I would never have to be the ugly, disfigured girl again and yet I am. I will always be her, and now everyone can see it…! She saw it, Yenna, she saw it…"

Yennefer did not have to ask to know who she was talking about. "Where's Philippa?" she asked, no doubt wanting to demand that the other sorceress properly take care of Triss when she could not. The worst part was that Philippa no doubt would have without even having being asked.

Triss nearly choked on the force of her sobs, a fresh wave of sorrow washing over her.

"Triss."

"I don't know!" Triss exclaimed, devastated. It felt like a part of her had been carved out of her and it was hard to breathe. "She was… she was here when I first woke up, had been here since just after I was brought in, but then I realized what I looked like and I couldn't bear her seeing me like that. I still can't. I told them not to let her back, and she… she tried one more time, but after she realized my request was serious she just— she respected my wishes and left, because that's the kind of person she is, you know? She's always been like that because she's goddamn perfect and I hate it, I hate it…!"

"Triss, she already saw you," Yennefer tried to reason with her, even though she knew when Triss got caught up in her emotions like this that there was little point. "She saw you, worse off than you are now, and she stayed. What does that tell you?"

"I know!" Triss shouted, anxiety crawling up her spine. She felt like she was trapped in her own skin. "Don't you think I know? I know exactly what that means, but I can't deal with that; not now, not with everything else. It makes it even more terrifying that she could leave and I can't deal with that right now! I just need her gone— away from me, away from this, because I'm broken, Yenna… I'm fucking broken…!"

And frankly, Triss doubted she would ever feel whole again. The woman she had worked so hard to become died up on that hill, and all that was left was a scarred and empty shell who felt like she had to run from the world, and so run she did.

[x]

Triss' isolation stretched on for quite some time.

She never returned to her station in the Temerian court, although she doubted whether Foltest knew or cared if she was dead or not. With war hanging over the Northern Kingdoms, the king had more things to be concerned about than a missing mage. Triss barricaded herself in her tower in Maribor, going so far as to magically seal the doors because she knew, eventually, somebody would come for her, and she did — when Yennefer's vision was restored she tried to find her friend, only to be shut out like the rest of the world.

"You can't stay in there forever," she had told her, and Triss just leaned her head against the door as tears filled her eyes because she didn't want to be like this. She hated having regressed so much, but she still hadn't been able to properly process her trauma, and she needed time.

Even with the help of magic, it still took quite a long time for Triss' hair to regrow to its original length. It took nearly a year, which that was better than three or four, so Triss did not complain. She was thankful her scalp and face had healed and she was starting to look like her old self again… so long as she wore blouses buttoned up to her neck, or dresses with a modest neckline. So long as she was dressed, Triss could pretend she was herself again. She could smile and she could laugh but then she would come home and undress, and everything would come apart again.

The first person Triss actually came across that she knew was Geralt. He and Yennefer had scratched one another's eyes out yet again, and he was on the road from Aedirn when they crossed paths. And Triss, who hated the truth of who she was now, desperately needed to feel desirable and thought it would be a good idea to get the boost she needed by climbing on top of her best friend's lover. The problem was it only made her feel worse, as she hadn't even had the courage to try to bed him without the help of a little magic. It was all a lie, and when Yennefer slapped her across the face for it Triss knew that she wholly deserved it, her shame preventing her from meeting the other woman's penetrating and furious gaze.

"If you were anyone else, I would see your tongue removed and your eyes plucked from your skull."

Triss' cheek stung as a reddened handprint began to appear on her cheek. She still could not look at her. "…I know."

"You're self-destructing. Get a hold of yourself," Yennefer demanded, and Triss' shame deepened because she knew that it was true. "I understand that Sodden scarred you in more ways than one, but you cannot go on like this. You are too talented to hide yourself away in a tower for the rest of your life as you wait for someone to punish you for existing."

Maybe that was part of it too. Maybe a part of her needed Yennefer to see her as the monster that she saw herself to be, but the problem was that even after she betrayed her trust, Yennefer still wouldn't properly punish her for it. A slap was nothing compared to what she really deserved, and both of them knew it.

"I can't forget it," Triss breathed sadly. "I close my eyes at night and I can see what was left of Coral's body lying next to mine, I can smell my skin burning and hear mages screaming, and then I wake up and see myself in the mirror, see the proof of its reality etched into my skin, and I break all over again. It's different than before; when Aretuza made me beautiful, I could look in the mirror and see a new person. That woman was a fresh slate, and could be whoever she wanted. I didn't have to be reminded of who I was and what had happened to me because I couldn't see it anymore. But I can see this, Yenna, and what's worse is that everyone else can too."

"You've already proven you can hide your scars from the world," Yennefer reminded her, her eyes fixated on her friend's new wardrobe. "Being unable to wear a plunging neckline anymore is a small sacrifice for your life. No one knows what's under your clothes, Triss, and nobody has to unless you let them."

Triss pursed her lips and looked away, her heart weighing heavy in her chest. Yennefer took one look at her expression and sighed softly, knowing what she was thinking about – or rather, who she was thinking about.

"Go. Find her," Yennefer softly encouraged. "I know you're scared that she may look at you differently now, but I think you're more terrified that she may not. I will say this though; if she didn't care as deeply as she did, she would have never stayed with you in that hospital for days on end. She would have never tried to find out that you were alive, and she never would have never injured two Healers for treating you with something you were allergic to. I have known Philippa a long time, and not once have I ever seen her go out of her way for another person unless it benefited her personally. Unfathomably, she seems to have actually softened that hunk of ice inside of her chest. She cares, Triss, she cares about you, and I'm sure she's wondering what happened. It's been a long time."

Triss' eyes filled with tears. She felt awful about cutting Philippa out her life and she missed her terribly, but she was afraid of seeing her again for a variety of reasons. "I can't just… show up after this long," she breathed sadly. "What if she's forgotten about me? Replaced me?"

"Don't be an idiot."

Yennefer's tone left little room for argument, and Triss exhaled a long sigh as she stared at her feet. Yes, perhaps that really was ridiculous, as before Sodden, Triss had enough confidence in her position in Philippa's life that she knew nobody could touch it. So what had changed, really? Just because she ran away for a little while, did that mean that Philippa's feelings for her had disappeared? If Triss was as confident as she had been, then shouldn't she realize that something like that doesn't just wash away easily?

"Now, please, do me a favor and go climb on top of the person you're meant to, and stay the hell away from Geralt."

Triss swallowed in guilt but nodded, silently promising her friend that she wouldn't do something like that to her again. Anxiety gripped her chest at the thought of seeing Philippa again, but she knew that Yennefer was right – Philippa did care about her, and the longer Triss hid herself away, the more she was sending a message to the other woman that she did not care for her in turn, which was the very last thing Triss wanted to do, as that couldn't be further from the truth.

TBC…