#tissia is my beloved

[flintbian]

Just finished The Witcher season two! It was so good!!! I loved it so much more than last season!

[trekkiepirate]

Being Known

My Witcher Secret Santa gift for @solynacea! @thewitchersecretsanta I hope you like i!

Crossposted to AO3 HERE

Yen and Triss wake up on the morning of Jaskier and Geralt's wedding.

It is a lovely day for a wedding and you are a terrible sorceress aka Yennefer Gets All The Good Lines.

“Fuck, put it away.”

Triss’s soft laughter sounded from Yen’s temple. “It is the sun and not even The Chapter ever managed enough power to do such a thing.”

Yen tucked her head into her lover’s shoulder. “This wouldn’t be happening if you’d let me set up my tent.”

“The witchers were kind enough to clear out this room for us and attempt to make it cosy,” her hand waved and Yennefer assumed it was gesturing towards the warm furs and the small bright paintings on the wall.

Lambert’s apparently. Witchers had hidden depths.

Triss was still talking, “You will not refuse it by setting up a tent in the corner like an ungracious noblewoman who is too fine and soft to dare touch witchery things.”

Yen snorted inelegantly. “Geralt can attest that I was previously in the habit of never refusing to touch a witcher’s thing.”

A huff told her that Triss was trying not to laugh, proven when the other woman did just that. “Not anymore though.”

“No,” Yen kissed Triss’s collarbone. “Not anymore. I leave that to idiot bards nowdays.”

“You shouldn’t be rude to Jaskier on his wedding day,” Triss scolded, even as her hand lifted to stroke through Yennefer’s black hair.

Yen denied the pleased purrlike rumble in her chest when asked about it later. She’d picked up more than just a daughter from the White Wolf, after all. “I shan’t be rude to his face. I’ll just get it all out now so that I can be all appropriately congratulatory to the darling idiots for finally getting their shit together. I saw this coming the first time I even met them.”

Triss cooed, “Yes, yes. You knew, long before Geralt and Jaskier did, that the stars were aligned for their love.”

“Nah,” Yen murmured. “Jaskier was arse-deep in love already. You should have seen his mind when I first put him into the healing sleep. Swooning over Geralt manhandling him around like a ragdoll. Geralt is the one who had to lose something before he knew what he had.” She wrinkled her nose in the expression she always wore when talking about what Triss termed The Dragon Hunt in her mind. Capital letters and all. “Somethings.”

“But it’s all worked out,” Triss said, kissing the top of Yennefer’s head. “He realized that he loved Jaskier, not you. Not like that. Which gave me the guiltfree option of making you mine, as soon as we healed from Sodden and Ciri was firmly settled in.”

Yennefer grinned. “I rather think I made you mine, beloved. I did the seducing.”

Triss laughed. “I dropped every hint known to womankind that I was available for the seducing. I felt it had to be on your terms.”

Lifting her head, Yen leaned up to kiss Triss: a slow, lazy thing. “As you say, it’s all worked out.”

A knock on the door had them sitting up in bed. “Mother, Triss! It’s time to get ready!”

A girlish giggle faded down the hall and Triss caught the soft look on Yennefer’s face.

She loved no one in the world so much as Cirilla, and every moment of the girl’s proven happiness seemed a balm to the woman’s soul.

Triss stretched and stood from the bed. “Also, you’ll be rude to Jaskier’s face and you know it. You’ve been preparing your backhanded best wishes as long as Geralt’s been practicing his vows. Run them past me, I want to make sure you tone the worst of them down.”

Yennefer groaned, but went to splash water on her face and arms. “But the meanest ones were the best of them.”

Triss hid her chuckle as she pulled on her dress. “You can go one entire day without saying anything cruel yet totally hilarious to Jaskier.”

“I could, but he’d assume I was a doppler or cursed or something. He’d never believe I was sweet to him of my own free will.”

Triss shook her head, curls catching the early morning sunlight. “I will never understand your friendship, I swear I won’t.”

“It’s simple,” Yen said with a smile. “I insult him, he fumbles inferior insults back at me, we both insult Geralt to his face and I would kill anyone who so much as looked at Jaskier rudely. He’d do the same for me. We’ve proven that point quite a few times now.”

“True,” Triss said. “Although I think between defending witchers and sorceresses, there isn’t a person on the Continent who would dare mess with the bard of the White Wolf. They’re liable to leave with far less blood and far fewer teeth.”

“Sometimes appendages,” Yen yawned as she smoothed her hands over the soft velvet of her dress. “If Geralt doesn’t intervene. I just let the boy go as feral as he likes. It’s incredibly entertaining to watch a snarling villager realise that Jaskier is much taller and stronger than he seems under the foppish clothes. Hmm” she hummed as she stepped into the dress, sliding her arms through the sleeves, “it makes him a good spy. I’ll figure out how he managed to poison Lord Gadden someday, if it’s the last thing I do. Help me with this?”

Triss came over and laced up the corset of the dress, despite knowing Yen knew the spell that would do it for her. She dropped a kiss to her lover’s shoulder at the same time, tilting around to press one to her jaw too.

Yennefer was slowly learning to accept the blatant affections to parts of her she once hated more than anything. She’d told Triss why once, shortly after they got together romantically. Pretended she wasn’t crying as she told the story of a girl with crooked bones who was sold for less than a pig cost in those days.

How angry she’d been, for years, decades, until she realized Tissia had meant to save her the only way a cruel man like her stepfather would have allowed.

There’s a small part of Triss that envies Istredd, for he knew Yennefer when she still was that girl and he loved her anyway. Triss knew she would have too, but there will never be a way to prove it.

Triss and Geralt only knew her as she is now: beautiful, powerful. Sometimes Triss wondered if Yennefer thought that was the only reason why anyone would love her, and at those times she goes out of her way to prove she loves Yennefer for her ugly parts too. Her looks may be perfect now, but the woman can still be cruel and selfish, biting and bitter. Triss loves all the mosaic pieces that make up Yennefer though and her resolve steels on something at once. The necklace has long been purchased and hidden amongst Triss’s things.

“Marry me.”

Yennefer spun in place, looking at Triss with wide, purple eyes. “What?” she said, mouth open ungraciously from where she was spreading the deep red paint on her lips.

Triss laid their foreheads together. “Marry me, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Mother of Cirilla, Hero of Sodden.”

There’s a silence, but Triss didn’t tense. This isn’t a hesitant silence of not knowing how to answer. Yennefer is just building up to a delightful quote.

“We can steal Jaskier and Geralt’s thunder on the day of their wedding and I have never loved you more. Yes.”

Triss laughed, kissed Yennefer, still laughing against her lips. “We are telling no one of our engagement until at least tomorrow. Don’t pretend you won’t enjoy the fact that you will know an important piece of news that Jaskier doesn’t on his wedding day.”

Yen answers with a grin of her own. “You know me so well, beloved."