Chapter 1: A Nighttime Visitor
A knock on the door pulls Yennefer's attention away from the book she halfway through. She folds the top corner of the page, sets the book on the table next to her chair and rises. A small fire pops and crackles in the stone fireplace, filling the room with a soft warmth. There is another knock on the door, more incessant that the first. A royal messenger, she thought as she stretches her arms. Yennefer glances outside at the falling snowflakes. A storm is heading to Vengerberg, a powerful system coming down from the Blue Mountains that would bury the city in several feet of snow. No doubt the person currently knocking is feeling a chill in their bones and craved any warmth they could find.
"Just a minute," Yennefer calls as she enters the hall. She searches for a coin purse, finding one in her study across the way and counts out several ducats, more than she usually tips, but the person is delivering their message in the snow.
Yennefer opens the door just as the person is about to knock again. She's stunned, unable to address the person before her as she takes in the sight of bright red hair, a shock against the white, snowy background.
"Triss?" she whispers. "W-what are you doing here?"
The younger sorceress blows warm air into her hands before answering. She's bundled up tight, wearing traveling clothing that look stiff and frozen on her frame. A thick, fur coat is wrapped around her shoulders, but she still shivers at the cold.
"Can I come in?"
Remembering herself, Yennefer steps to the side, allowing Triss to shuffle inside and away from the snow. "Welcome to my home," she says, though it's not the first time her friend has visited Vengerberg. She examines Triss, frowning at the frost covering the hem of her coat and around her riding gloves. Her cheeks and nose are flushed from the cold. "Come. I have a fire going and I'll make you something warm to drink."
She guides Triss back to the small library and tells her to get warm in front of the fire. Then she heads to the kitchen, her mind racing as she treads down the hall.
The last time she and Triss had spoken to one another was three years ago after the final battle with the Wild Hunt. There was a small gathering, something to celebrate the end of what had been a tumultuous and deadly journey for Yennefer and her dearest friends. Like usual, she hung back from the gathering, never truly comfortable around large crowds, even if the people surrounding her were associates she had known for years. She observed everyone, her gaze softening anytime she glanced in Ciri's direction. Though Geralt always earned a glare. And Triss was around, floating from conversation to conversation like the social butterfly she was.
Back then, Yennefer was confused about her feelings towards her friend. She wasn't even sure she could label their relationship as such. Though they had reconciled and got their revenge on Geralt at the Kingfisher, Yennefer had a hard time trusting Triss. But her anger had dampened significantly since that night, so she made an attempt at being friendlier towards the young sorceress. And they parted on good terms after that night, promising to stay in contact with each other. But Yennefer never sent any letters, nor did she receive any.
She warms a kettle of water and places loose-leaf tea into mugs, which she places on a tray, along with milk and a cup of sugar cubes. When the water is warm, she puts it next to the other items and carries it back into the library. Triss is still in front of the fire, her hands extended towards the flames. Her coat and gloves are folded over the back of the far sofa. Yennefer frowns, imagining water dropping onto the wooden floor and rug, but she doesn't say anything. Now that Triss is free of her coat, Yennefer sees she's wearing riding pants and a loose shirt that's stuffed into her pants. Flimsy clothing, certainly not suitable for traveling through a storm.
"Feeling any better?" she asks, setting the tray down and pouring water into the two mugs.
Triss turns away from the fireplace, a soft smile on her face. "Yes, plenty. Thank you." She accepts the tea, pouring in milk and adding two sugar cubes. Yennefer's surprised she takes her drinks so sweet.
"It's good to see you," Triss says. She's testing the water, Yennefer realizes.
"It's good to see you too. It's been too long."
"Yes, it has." Triss looks down at her feet. "Would have been longer if the storm hadn't force me to stop."
Right, the storm, Yennefer thinks. "I guess it's safe to ask my earlier question. What are you doing here?"
Triss opens her mouth, then closes it and walks over to the window. Yennefer notices her shoulders have tensed, rising slightly to her ears.
"I was on my way from Toussaint," she says slowly.
"Visiting Geralt?" Yennefer waits to feel something. She's thought so little of the man she once believed was her true love over these past few years. He's sent letters. She never responded. Didn't even open them. Just tossed them into the fire or used her magic to destroy it. What little she knew, she learned from Ciri whenever she visited. Geralt was gifted a winery, Corvo Bianco, which he managed when he could.
"Yes," Triss admits. "He invited me to visit his estate. It's nice there. Colorful. Warm. You would like it there."
"Hm…I'm sure."
Triss spins on her heel and looks at Yennefer. They both defensive. Guarded. But there is a desire to restart their friendship, have things go back to how it was before Geralt forced his way between them.
"In any case, I was trying to reach Novigrad to return home, but I was turned around in the storm. And I would have stayed at an inn, but they're all packed."
Yennefer feels a pang of guilt that Triss sought out other shelter before coming to her home. No matter what happened between them, she would have gladly welcomed her.
"You're free to stay here until it's safe to travel again," Yennefer says. Triss smiles at her, finally relaxing as she perches on the edge of the sofa.
"How have you been?"
Yennefer smiles and runs a hand through her thick black curls. "Triss, you know I was never one for small talk."
The sorceress blushes and turns away. "I know. I just…I guess I want to make sure you're okay. It's been three years. And a lot happened the last time we saw each other."
Yennefer flashes back to the Kingfisher. To Geralt laying on the bed. Triss dressed in lingerie, twirling around the room, trying to excite him, which is easy to do. The thought is brief, barely registering in Yennefer's mind. But Triss is beautiful. Dazzling, really. And Yennefer almost, almost feels inadequate. But they both felt that way and that's why they wanted revenge on the witcher.
Then they're all on the bed and lilac eyes connect with cornflower blue, a silent message passing through them. And Triss leans in first. Yennefer sees from the corner of her eye Geralt smirking, amused by what's about to happen and she wants to play her part, play it well. So she leans over, capturing Triss' lips in a kiss that the younger sorceress deepens instantly. Forgetting herself, Yennefer moans into her friend's mouth. But it's over soon enough and it had the desired effect. Geralt is hard, grinning like the wolf he always was.
Yennefer licks her lips and remembers they're there for a reason and she and Triss carry out the rest of their plan, clinking their wine glasses together as Geralt bucks against the chains. And as they dress, leave the inn, Yennefer is certain their brief kiss was only significant to her alone. Back then, she didn't understand why it affected her so. Even now, she's not sure why she thinks about the softness of Triss' lips or the hints of green in those cornflower blue eyes.
Yennefer settles into her seat and crosses her legs. She notices Triss tracking the motion. "It's behind us now," Yennefer says. "You're here, this storm doesn't seem to be letting up and I'm sure you're hungry."
"Famished. I almost ran out of supplies."
"You always packed light." Yennefer chuckles and finishes her drink.
"I manage to survive," Triss says, her smile widening.
Yennefer stands and clears away their mugs. "Well I'll start dinner now before you pass out on me."
Using enchantments, Yennefer prepares a roast with rice, steamed carrots and a savory yogurt for the meat. She opens a bottle of Kedweni wine and they sit down to a nice meal. With the wine loosening their tongues, the conversation flows freely and an ease settles over them. Triss talks about adventures traveling from court to court, seeking royal favor and doing the occasional odd job for poor villagers. Yennefer for her part, lives a much quieter life, relying on the money she earned in her youth to sustain the lifestyle she was used to.
"You're not bored?" Triss asks.
They finished dinner, washed the dishes and were now once again in front of the fireplace. Yennefer tossed in several logs as Triss sat on the floor and opened another bottle of wine, their third of the evening.
"No, it's nice," Yennefer says. "I wake when I choose, lounge around my house and sometimes venture out into the city. Sometimes Demavend calls on me. But I have time for my studies for once in a long time. If I get bored, I'm free to catch a show or go to another city."
Triss stretches out on her back, clasping her hands on her stomach. Yennefer shifts her body so she can better see her friend.
"What about company?" Triss says. "Do you get lonely?"
"Not often."
"But it does happen?"
"Sometimes," Yennefer admits. It surprised her. She was used to traveling on her own. She was comfortable being by herself. But her home is large, most of the rooms empty save for furniture. She goes days, sometimes weeks without speaking to another person. The only person to visit frequently is Ciri, but those visits are always unannounced, unpredictable. And she's in contact with members of the Lodge, though those conversations are few and far between.
"I've thought about getting a cat," Yennefer says, her voice a tease.
Triss chuckles. "I could see it."
Yennefer finishes her glass of wine and lays on her side, propping her elbow on the floor and laying her head in her open palm. For a moment, she watches the slow rise and fall of Triss' chest. Then her eyes flicker up to her friend's face, tracing the soft rounded edges of her jaw, before moving to her full lips that glistened with a thin layer of gloss, then travel up her small nose, finally landing on those cornflower blue eyes that focus on the ceiling.
"What about you? Do you get lonely out there?"
Triss looks at her from the corner of her eye before staring at the wooden beams above and crosses her legs at the ankle. She hummed as she thinks. "Sometimes. More often than I'd like. When it's overwhelming, I try to stop in a city searching for a festival or to see a friendly face." Triss carefully slides her eyes back over to Yennefer's face.
The older sorceress wants to laugh. Not at what Triss said, but at what they're both admitting. What happened to them? They were once feared and venerated by monarchs and commoners. People wrote from faraway places seeking their advice or magical abilities. They had both been involved in influential wars or political schemes, sometimes even changing the entire course of history. Now they were living in retirement, in Yennefer's case, or aimlessly roaming the lands, popping into cities whenever they pleased.
They were now living that steady, boring life Yennefer was afraid of falling into. Though she didn't seem to mind it most days.
"We're pitiful," Triss says, her entire body shaking as she laughs.
Yennefer smiles. "Perhaps. But it could be worse."
Triss sits up and swivels to face her friend. She glances at the window over Yennefer's shoulder, her smile thinning. "It's really coming down out there." They can hear the heavy snowfall and the windows shake as a violent wind whips through the streets. The roof groans as more and more snow fall on the shingles.
It's late. Yennefer yawns into her hand, sleepy from the warm food and wine in her stomach and the fire that's heating the room. "I think I'll head to bed now," she says. "There are plenty of spare rooms for you to choose from. Make yourself comfortable."
"Thank you."
Yennefer climbs the stairs to the second level, makes a right to her bedroom at the end of the hall and cracks the door behind her. She fills the tub with warm water, scented oils and crystals, undresses and bathes before dressing for bed. She hears the floor creak in the hall as Triss walks up the stairs and selects a room adjacent to Yennefer's. Then it's silent once more.
The covers are a warm embrace as she climbs into bed and draws the sheets and blankets to her chin. She's on the edge of sleep immediately and her breathing evens out. Her dreams are short flashes of past encounters with friends, associates, former lovers. Some are happy occurrences, some are sad, one even brings tears to her eyes, shocking her awake.
Yennefer sits up, the covers falling down her body and she wipes the corners of her eyes. Then she takes a deep breath, exhaling through her mouth.
She freezes as she hears a strange noise, like a strangled cry. Tiptoeing out the bed towards the crack in her bedroom door. She turns her ear towards the small gap and listens. Her hand flies to her mouth and a furious blush spreads from her cheeks, down her neck to her cleavage as she realizes the sound is a soft gasp, which is immediately followed up by low moan and a strangled cry.
"Yenna…"
She steps back from the door and shuts it. She no longer hears Triss, but she can imagine it clear in her mind.
Her name from Triss' mouth in a whisper. She knew what was happening in the other bedroom, what Triss was doing to herself. She didn't mind the activity. She'd change the sheets later. But to hear her name come from her friend's mouth was a shock. In a daze, Yennefer climbs back into bed and shuts her eyes. But she still hears it in her mind. A moan. A gasp.
"Yenna…"
She flops onto her back and sighs. She tries to force herself to shut her eyes and fall asleep, but her mind is against her, conjuring vivid images much to her dismay. Images of bare breast flush and covered in a light layer of sweat, the nipples exposed to the air and hard, aching to be sucked. Long legs with Triss' juices dripping down the pale skin and two pale finger pumping into her folds, working faster and faster as the young sorceress gets close to her orgasm. And over it all, the sound of Yennefer's name filling the air.
"Yenna…"
Maybe she didn't mind at all what was happening on the other side of the wall.