The Ash Tree - A Witcher FanFiction

{12}

Our journey.

Long, treacherous.

We neared the Plains according to schedule. Vesemir, who wanted to avoid this confrontation, was convinced that it would have been better to face the Nilfgaardians before they'd arrived at the School.

Frost lay thinly against the ground.

The crows watched.

How Geralt had known they'd arrive here was beyond me, his short explanation of hearing rumors seemed to be enough to our brothers. At least, I thought it was. Perhaps they all knew more than what they'd let on.

By nightfall, the day before they were expected to arrive, we set up, ate, and hid in the trees.

And we slept.

When day barely broke, we heard them marching from across the field. But we were already awake, we were ready.

Watching from the trees atop a hill, we held tightly to our reins, staring down at the troops who hadn't yet seen us. I searched the crowd, I searched for him.

He wasn't there. Perhaps he'd stayed behind with the second set.

Far and out of sight, we observed, no words exchanged.

Then we positioned ourselves elsewhere.

Those soldiers were no longer black. 

No longer shadows. 

No longer coal.

They were metal, silver, gold... Like the sun.

"When?" I asked, staring at the Witcher.

"Soon." He said.

We were waiting for someone.

And so we waited.

And so they waited.

"I'm going to survey," I said after a couple of hours.

No one said a thing.

My brothers looked at me.

Marching through the trees, I stared up at the crows.

The sky grew dark, clouds shielding the sun.

----

"Get up!" the soldier shouted at Yennefer.

She was cold, shivering, her once beautifully crafted dress soiled by mud.

Her feet aches, her legs tired, her back pained.

And her wrists, strewn closely together by the harsh rope which dug into her skin.

It'd only been a few days since she saw the girl, afraid.

And Yennefer remembered what that felt like.

A monstrosity.

Hideous.

Alone.

But the young mage knew she had to hold on, never forgetting what she'd said to The Witcher before they parted ways.

Yennefer had a plan, and as she carried her aching body, she stared ahead at her sister, Fringilla.

When night fell, when the poor mage was finally given a moment's rest, she sat along with the others, supporting the aches against the harsh surface of a tree. The cool, crisp air stung the tips of her fingers.

She eyed Fringilla walking into a tent, exiting moments later with a sigh. Her sister sensed her gaze, glared a moment, then stormed off in another direction.

The Black Knight threatened those captured at The Battle of Sodden Hill. 

'Serving the wrong side. The Lioness has abandoned you. Traitors... You'll be put to good use.'

Fringilla put in a good effort serving Nilfgaard, but the raven-haired mage knew better. Saw it in her sister's eyes. Regret. Grief. Shame. The position given from the one taken was not at all what Fringilla hoped it to be.

And as the days passed, the guards grew tired of keeping close to Yennefer. This gave her an opportunity.

The woman strode silently next to Fringilla, after aiding in a raid.

First, nothing.

Then something.

"Well, go on then, say it," Fringilla stated annoyed.

"You're not happy," Yennefer replied.

"As if it wasn't obvious."

An awkward silence.

"Despite the circumstances, it is nice to see you." The raven-haired mage continued.

Fringilla scoffed.

Yennefer pursed her lips, "I'm sorry."

Two words she never thought she'd say, ever.

More silence, then a chuckle.

"Remember when we were younger? I could never get the spells right at first, but neither could you." Fringilla noted.

"She was always so hard on us." The purple lily said.

"Yes, but she was hardest on you." 

"It's because I was different. Deformed..."

Fringilla grinned, but a sadness lingered in her eyes, along with envy, "I was jealous of you, you know."

Yennefer turned sharply to look at her sister but said nothing.

Fringilla continued, "as much as I hate to admit it. We were all different, all outcasted in some way. But you, you were a sight to behold. Imagine being the only unique one out of uniqueness. She took the time to ridicule you, yes, but I think she loved you most."

The lily's heart twisted, "she loved us all in her own unique way."

Fringilla's face twisted a moment, then she chuckled again.

"I know we've had our differences, and we hadn't quite been on the same footing when we'd met but... I miss this, sister." Yennefer continued, poorly placing a hand on Fringilla's between the harsh ropes, "we can go back to this, we can go home."

Fringilla's lips parted, mouth slightly agape. An expression, something that looked like shock, then she pursed her lips again, her eyes narrowing as she yanked her hand away, "I can't. You know what they'll think."

"You can. We can." The raven-haired mage looked at her sisters and brothers, worn down behind them. She looked to Fringilla, "surely this doesn't sit well with you."

Fringilla's face, once twisted with resentment, faltered as she held back tears. Her voice cracked slightly as she ordered Yennefer to step back.

Yennefer's heart twisted again, her sister's words like a stab to her chest, her soul. 

But the seed was planted.

Fringilla

Would

Turn.

----

[Please, no spoilers for the Second Season. I haven't seen it yet, and don't intend to until I finish this story. I hope you've enjoyed Mirabel's story thus far. Thank you!]