Chapter Text
PIGLET
I
The Flower and The Stone
“Do you know how many people would blink if you'd died?”
Violet eyes snapped open at the intrusive question. The furiously confused gaze met a steady searching turquoise. Yennefer had seen this face before, it was the woman who had bought her from the only father that she had ever known. The father who never missed an opportunity to remind her of the insignificance of her existence . Who made sure to impart the burden that he felt, upon the girl. The father that had sold her for four marks. Four measly marks. This woman had bought her for four marks!
Yennefer struggled against the unfamiliar bed. Comfortable though it was; it was not home. Her eyes darted around the room, taking in the shards of glass that lay upon a small table to the right, before returning to the turquoise. She observed a slight twitch against the sharp lip of the woman, before her features moved to still.
“I know exactly how many people would blink.” Yennefer found her horse voice saying. It did not convey the frustration which she had intended. Something about the turquoise had grounded her; a reality that was most unwelcome. Yennefer sank into her cover before continuing. “None.”
Pale lids began to flutter as the statement reverberated around the room; turquoise retreating. The truth in the words injecting a coolness to the air around them. The woman before Yennefer seemed to shift uncomfortably, her face falling from view before she rose to standing, though the warmth that she had imparted onto the bed still remained. Yennefer stretched her leg to the left under the covers in order to soak it up. The turquoise gaze seemed to drink in this motion, before tracing a path up Yennefer's misshapen body. Although obscured by her covers, the girl felt stripped bare by this. The woman’s eyes once again found Yennefer’s face, and settled after meeting the purple of her mind.
“You get to live.”
There was something about those words; they reached their hands out and steadied the girl. Or was it the mouth from whence they had come? Or the dusky timbre of the voice which had delivered them? A certainty that snatched at the air; delivering a stillness. Yennefer had always felt that there was more to her fate than the crook in her jaw or the hunch in her back may imply.
Was this woman before her to be her destiny then? An old sort of power was vacillating from her every pore. Something heady and weightless clung to the atmosphere like a fine perfume, and Yennefer was sure that her knees would have buckled if she were not already lying prone on her deformed back. That thought was unwelcome, and Yennefer tried to move some of her weight away from her raised shoulder. What could the creature before her want? Why take her? The woman looked timeless; flawless. The red in her plush gown making her eyes look like jewels to be plundered. The dress concealed every element of flesh it could, even the collar was raised. This sense of austerity that was being projected, was just as overwhelming as the magnetic pull that Yennefer felt. The girl was tired and confused.
Fate?
She scoffed internally at the notion. A dark brow raising above a turquoise jewel told Yennefer that she was an open book to the creature before her, though she willed herself not to look away. She resolved to lace her expression with every ounce of defiance that she could muster. To Yennefer’s chagrin, this seemed to amuse her captor. A twitch of those lips that Yennefer was beginning to commit to memory, hinted at a smile. A ghost of a dimple forming just below the sharp cheekbone on the right side of her face, seemed to confirm this. These little gestures were concealed immediately after conception, and consequently Yennefer was left even more frustrated.
“You should have let me die. At least I was in control of that.”
The woman’s features seemed to soften at this. She moved her head to the side in an almost pitying motion. Yennefer thought that she might vomit.
“Oh, Piglet.” The girl's eyes widened at the pet name she had unwittingly acquired. Her captor resumed her perch on the side of the bed, heat leaking onto Yennefer’s covered thigh as she did so. A gloved hand reached out towards a bandaged wrist. Both Yennefer and the woman before her studied the contact. The fingers pushed against the most sensitive spot. Yennefer dared a glance up. Could she see confusion on the face before her? No. It wasn’t confusion, she was remembering something. “You were not taking control, you were relinquishing it.”
“Who are you?” Turquoise eyes lifted at this, amusement briefly returning to those feline features as she watched Yennefer struggle for restraint. “I’ve a right to know!”
“I would have informed you when I collected you, howev-"
“-Abducted.”
The woman looked askance. She squeezed briefly against Yennefer’s bandaged wrist before replying with “I beg your pardon?”
“I was merely correcting you, My Lady. You were implying that there was nothing tawdry about your...acquisition of my person.”
Yennefer held the woman’s gaze. Was that a brief sliver of shame that she had just witnessed dancing across that proud and proper face? No matter, it was gone in an instant, and Yennefer knew that regret would not be verbalised. The woman then straightened her shoulders before letting go of Yennefer’s wrist.
“’Twas not I who sold thee, Piglet. There are others more deserving of your contempt.”
“Yet it is a thing owned solely by myself, an object beyond even your wicked reach. I dare say I shall let my whim have free reign when it comes to whom I shall despise.”
The was a snort from the woman as she stood once more. Was she pleased with how this conversation was going? She certainly seemed more animated than their first encounter. Yennefer suddenly found herself plagued with confusion, frustration, and anger. What did this insufferable creature want? Why did Yennefer care if their verbal sparring match was offering entertainment?
Four marks?
“So much fire. You have a will of white hot steel. You are a spark that burns bright, yet you are unstable, Piglet. You are dangerous. I heard you calling out in fear, so I came to find you. To bring you home.”
“This isn’t home.”
“And the pigsty was? Was that man home?”
Yennefer remained silent.
“You can have a purpose here, Piglet. You can have power. I will teach you, but before anything else, we must begin with control. We are nothing but the sum of our thoughts and feelings. Yours are overwhelming you.” Yennefer scoffed. She twirled a lock of her ebony mane through her fingers, whilst willing the most cruel of smiles to cover her lips. She observed a twitch against a foreign hand as she watched the woman watching her, yet all the wile she could feel her turmoil stirring. Deep amethyst eyes locked with turquoise ones, desperate to project confidence. Soon though, it was Yennefer’s turn to raise a brow as her frustrating tormentor returned the expression with a brief smirk of her own. It was a small and mocking thing. Eyes still dancing with mirth long after she had schooled her features.
“You cannot hide from me, Piglet. Anyone else, perhaps. But not me. I see you.”
The woman stepped closer to Yennefer, stretching a hesitant hand out to smooth the girl’s freshly tousled lock. A small sigh took flight from Yennefer’s breath, and the woman stepped back again. Her voice as it left those sharp and memorable lips, much softer than before. Full of age, and weariness, and intimacy it was. “If you are not careful, you will drown in your emotions, and you could drown others along with yourself.” Yennefer was still silent as the woman patted her hand against a blue dress laid out on the bottom of her bed. She ran an index finger across the hem of the right shoulder, before turning to speak once more. “Put this on, then come and find me in the greenhouse after the tenth bell tolls. My name is Tissaia De Vries, I am the Rectoress of Aretuza. You are here to learn how to control your Chaos.”
Tissaia moved towards the heavy wooden door to the right of the bed. A old groan came forth from the wood as she began to pull at the handle. Before she could step through though, a surging came from behind her. It felt like a solemn wave of despair. Tissaia struggled with her desire to let her gaze shift back towards her new pupil. Those eyes that said it all. She could feel what was felt. The hurt poured fourth in abundance, but there was more. It was a vibrant experience; unabashed and irrepressible. Tissaia wanted to drink in that purple again. To get lost in the life of it. She knew the action was against her better judgement. Tissaia had already overstepped several of her boundaries in the brief time she had known this girl. She had decided that the crime of her thought was transgression enough, but after looking at the door for several seconds more, she inched her face around to spy Yennefer waiting for her on the bed.
“Four marks?”
Tissaia’s breath stilled. She had no real explanation other than that she didn’t want to give Yennefer’s father a copper more than she had to, and she didn’t want to cause a scene. It would not be enough to satisfy Yennefer though. She had inflicted a wound that she hadn’t intended. Something she was now worried that would linger.
“Yennefer...”
“So, the beast has a name now, does it? No doubt you found that by rummaging around where you are not welcome!”
“Well, you were projecting it quite loudly when I christened you, Piglet.” Tissaia tried desperately to will her smirk away as she watched Yennefer bristle. She took a breath before continuing. “You were worth less than the price of a pig to the one who sold you, not to I. Here, you can be so much more. I would not have come for you if I did not see you.” Tissaia could see glistening before the purple. Longing and confusion swirled around Yennefer, and Tissaia found herself being drawn in once again. Wanting to touch, to comfort. She had to get away, to calm herself and restore her control. “Remember, come after the tenth bell and we can begin your studies. Now, I’ve lingered too long. I must attend to my duties.”
“Rectoress?” Yennefer whispered as Tissaia was halfway through the door. The woman stilled but did not turn back. The words that Yennefer was searching for eluded her. What did she want to say? Thank you? She wasn’t sure. Stop calling me Piglet? It wouldn’t happen. The Rectoress seemed to take a twisted sort of pleasure in it. It was only after they had exchanged a brief goodbye and the woman had left, that Yennefer realised she should have asked for some directions.
The tenth bell had tolled some time ago, and Yennefer had still not tracked down this accursed greenhouse! It had taken her long enough to smooth down the stiffened fabric of her new uniform comfortably over her hump, and calm her uncooperative mane of blackened hair. Yennefer had found herself running her hand several times down the strands that the Rectoress had smoothed not long before. She had now wandered aimlessly for what felt like an eternity, unsure whether or not she should just give up. Perhaps she should go and find the boy whom she first met. He seemed kindly and would probably know what to do. Just as the thought had crossed the girl’s mind though, a familiar presence filled her very being. The feeling was indescribable. It was like going home and lying down next to the fire, with a mug of something heated to hand. Yennefer could feel concern and warmth, mixed with a hint of irritation. She knew that these emotions belonged to the Rectoress. There wasn’t a word projected, just a presence that beckoned, and so, Yennefer began to answer the call. She let her feet move her forwards.
“So, you finally arrive, Piglet.” Scores of eyes turned towards Yennefer as she moved as discreetly as her gait would allow, towards an empty desk. There were several other girls in the same dress as her, though none wore it with such distinction. Yennefer observed the flower that was placed on one side of her little table, and the stone that sat on the other. She glanced around the room and noted that every other girl had this setup. The desks were arranged in a circular format, with golden light pouring in from every direction. The windows were slim and ran high, flora creeping up and around, leaves and petals drinking in the honeyed liquid light seeping. It was as if here, there was a smell of life about the air. Of growth and renewal. The Rectoress was at the head of the class, standing in front of a desk of her own. She was wearing a turquoise dress now, and her eyes looked ever more blue because of it. Eyes that were keenly observing. Yennefer had known of what beauty should be. The idea of it. The ideal of it. The power of it. Beauty was something that Yennefer had of course craved for herself. But now that she was in the presence of it truly – for of beauty the Rectoress was an undoubted wielder – Yennefer found herself content merely to bask. Her face was more than angelic, this was true. With high and pronounced cheekbones, a square jaw and a cleft in her chin that seemed to emphasise the sharpness of those lips. Her face was stunning, yes, but there was a serenity about her that was moving the room in its way. Yennefer felt both on edge, and at peace. It was a duality which she was quickly becoming familiar with.
“I apologise, I did not know the way.”
“And yet you found us. You followed my call. Remember that lesson. A sorceress is never truly lost, we must simply know to look for our anchors. Seek it out, grab on tight, and you will always find what you are looking for.”
So the Rectoress was to be her anchor now?
Yennefer wasn’t sure she felt comfortable with that. Though when that presence had touched her briefly, it was the most reassuring thing that she had ever felt. It was a certainty that the woman had gifted twice now. Yennefer could see this Tissaia De Vries in front of her, but she hungered to feel that presence inside herself again. She wanted to find a grounding point, if only to see whether or not she had imagined it. Yennefer tried to follow that thread from before. She could feel a little sliver of familiarity still lingering in her consciousness, and so she tried to take hold of it as she would a piece of string. Yennefer tugged on the little thread in her mind as hard as she could, willing the presence back to her. She was shoved away instantly and aggressively. With so much force in fact, that she stumbled back before managing to grab onto the desk in front of her. Yennefer could hear the sound of a stone hitting the floor with a dull and heavy thud, and when she looked up, she saw the Rectoress looking back. Her chest was rising and falling with unsteady rhythm. Something that looked strangely similar to shock was covering her features. Those eyes. Those eyes that had looked mostly blue moments earlier, they now held a storm of conflict as they pinned the girl to the ground. And then the moment evaporated no sooner than it had arrived. A few blinks and the Rectoress turned her attention to the other pupils.
“You mustn’t be so clumsy, Piglet. Now let us finally begin.”
Tissaia began to circle the girls that had been collected, there were a few talents in the bunch. One or two with the potential to be bright stars, a couple of certain duds whose conduit duties had already been secretly assigned, and then there was Yennefer.
Her Piglet.
Tissaia’s fingers reached for the pendant that hung heavy around her chest as she moved. Her nerves had been nothing short of frayed ever since Yennefer’s conduit moment. It was as though a lightning bolt had landed directly into her heart, forcing it into a frantically unfamiliar rhythm. Yet it was a beat that felt as though it should have always been. It was the most beautifully disconcerting feeling. When those Violet eyes found hers, it seemed to make the beating more pronounced. How could a girl hold such power? Tissaia willed herself to focus on the lesson she was preparing to give. She poured ice water over the flames that were raging inside, but she kept finding Yennefer's eye. How had such a novice managed to cover her with her presence so completely? That’s what Yennefer had achieved when she had pulled on Tissaia’s thread. She had bypassed every mental barrier that she had built – not destroyed – she simply eased into her mind as if it was home, and that’s what it had felt like.
Home.
Tissaia could feel the girl’s confusion, hurt and mistrust, but also an intrigue. A determination, and the most terrible feeling of loneliness. It was as if a hand had reached out to her in the dark places of memory, and squeezed tightly. It was as if she was no longer alone in the dark.
It was deeply troubling.
“I can feel your unease. Your terror. You are right to be afraid, for Chaos can be the most terrible of things. As it spreads, it has the potential to turn civilisations to ice and cities mad. Chaos is danger. If we do not learn control we will burn.” Tissaia had returned to her desk and found herself seeking out the purple once more. Dark fringe spilling just over those eyes. Tissaia wanted to sweep it out of the way so she could see them more clearly. She shook her head in frustration. This was ridiculous, there was a class to teach! “You are all here for a reason. Your conduit moments. Each one of you showed that you have an aptitude for channelling Chaos. I heard you all. I watched you take your first steps. That is why you are here. Tissaia looked at every girl bar one as she spoke. She refused to be drawn, desperate to avoid thinking about Yennefer or her conduit moment. Desperate to avoid listening to the rhythm of her own heartbeat. “Sabrina, you turned your mother fat, and Fringilla, you froze a cat,” A girl in a corner snickered at the pathetic rhyme, as Fringilla insisted that the cat had been an accident. Tissaia followed the noise. “Cordelia, isn’t it? You decomposed fruit as your brother was eating it. Certainly not the most elegant use of Chaos, alas we cannot choose our conduit moment.” In truth, Tissaia was very impressed with Cordelia's instinct. She hoped that if the girl ascended, she could be guided towards alchemy or even healing. Sabrina showed true promise as well. A natural star, so calm and composed, with just a dash of creativity. Not like Yennefer. Yennefer was a maelstrom of Chaos and emotion. Tissaia took a breath and clenched her little fists before preparing to continue.
“I want to go home.” It was one of the duds that had spoken. Tissaia walked up to her and felt as though she should try and say something reassuring.
“You are home.” The dud bowed her head and swallowed, and Tissaia realised just how cold and dismissive she had sounded. She let the thought linger on for a brief moment, like a fly buzzing around her head as she tried to sweep it away. It was of no consequence. She had no use for kindness. Tissaia resumed her round before continuing.
“Just because you are conduits of Chaos, it does not mean that you are capable of magic. While oceans of mystery remain, we have deduced that organising Chaos into magic requires two things. Balance and Control. Without them, Chaos will kill you.”
Tissaia passed behind Yennefer as she moved back towards her desk, clasping her hands in front of her as she continued speaking. There was a cold and restrained aura projecting from the Rectoress now, and Yennefer felt as though it was directed solely at herself. When the Archmistress returned to her desk, she finally gave them their first task. She told them that it should be the simplest of tests to lift the stone from their desks without physical contact. She also said that the balance lay between the flower and the stone. Yennefer tried to catch the gaze of her new teacher, but the woman was still refusing to look at her. The frustration that she felt was beginning to froth over, churning relentlessly in her chest and tickling at her skin. How was she supposed to use balance and control, when she had not a modicum of either at her disposal? How was she supposed to obtain these skills, when it seemed that every one of that woman’s actions were designed to get a rise out of her?
Yennefer took a breath and tried to focus on her task. She knew that she could touch Chaos, and learning to manipulate it would be useful. She couldn’t deny a flutter of excitement at the prospect of acquiring power. Yennefer thought about the balance lying between the flower and the stone. There must be a relationship between the two, and if the rock was being lifted, then the flower must do the lifting. She wondered if she should eat the petal, like she did with the boy from before. Yennefer smiled inwardly at her reasoning. She already knew what control meant, it had been explained to her several times now. It was in the achieving where she knew that she would struggle.
She needed to get rid of her emotions.
No sooner than Yennefer had moved to pick up the flower, did a scream erupt from the left side of the room.
“Look! Look! I’m doing it!” It was Fringilla exclaiming, though Yennefer looked at her confused. For Fringilla had no relationship with the flower, she could instead deduce that a tether was forming and straining between the girl and the rock instead. It was such a shocking thing; the force of it almost visible.
“Your arm!” Sabrina, who was to the left of Fringilla, gasped her air inward as she spoke. Sabrina was looking down with a horrified expression and all eyes now followed to where hers were pinned. The previously exuberant pupil let her stone clatter to the table. Fringilla now wailed in terror and possible disgust as she watched her left hand and forearm wither away to nothing. The blackened and shrivelled carcass was all that remained; a mocking monument to the life that once pulsed from those fingertips.
“That was beautifully demonstrated, thank you Fringilla. For therein lies the balance. There is no conjuring something from nothing, there is a give and a take.”
Yennefer looked on horrified as Fringilla cradled her withered arm. There were tears running from her brown eyes, and an unspoken anger now ghosted her features. The Rectoress rolled her own eyes, picked up the flower on her desk and demonstrated how the incantation should have been performed. The flower began to rot away as her stone rose, then she tossed the carcass of the plant to one side.
Tissaia’s hands gripped onto her desk as she lowered her stone. She was surprised at Fringilla’s mistake. Her uncle was an influential mage and she would have assumed that the fool girl would have already been instructed in the fundamentals. This was not going to go down well at her next meeting. Perhaps if she had been more focused, she could have stopped Fringilla. But, no. This was a necessary lesson, better it be learnt now. Tissaia watched on as girl after girl followed her example. Sabrina’s stone soared high and true, before floating gracefully back to the table. Cordelia’s raised and rotated, but she was more interested in observing the flower as it decayed. Once it did, she let her stone drop and she immediately produced a sketchbook from somewhere to start recording the anomalies of the dead thing. Fringilla couldn’t be blamed for being hesitant before returning to her task, but she did complete it. Even the dud got a quiver from her stone, but Yennefer. Piglet.
Nothing.
Yennefer began to get desperate. She started to shout the words at the stone, all the while willing herself to turn off her tap of feeling. She plucked at a petal and started to chew.
Tissaia watched on. Wishing her to do it, but knowing it was not going to happen. She could feel how literally Yennefer had taken her warnings on control. She had battened down the hatches completely, cut herself off from the most powerful and dangerous part of herself. Yennefer needed to control her emotions, not kill them. Her hands began to clench more tightly around the wood of her desk. “You've lost a lot of blood, Piglet.” Yennefer ignored her as she swallowed a mouthful more of petal. She continued chanting the Elder Speech as Tissaia walked towards her. “Sometimes a flower is just a flower, and the best thing it can do for us is to die.”
Yennifer looked up, defeat in her eyes. Only now did the Archmistress look at her. There was a softness in her face that angered Yennefer beyond measure. She refused the pity before her and stormed out of the room. Yennefer knew where she was going. She was going to find the boy from before. Istredd. She had conjured a portal in front of him at her conduit moment, so he knew that she was capable. Maybe he could help her.
Tissaia dismissed her class and packed everything away, before retreating to her chambers for a well earned pipe brake. She knew where Yennefer had gone, the fool boy who'd tried to hide her at the start had clearly made an impression with his kindness. This was something that she would have to deal with. For now, she decided that she would let Yennefer have the rest of the day to herself. Tissaia sat herself down at her desk, opening a draw to reveal her pipe, before moving some parchments from one side of her desk to the other. She hitched up her skirts, before kicking her feet on top of her desk and lighting her pipe. Tissaia took a long, slow drag, and tilted her head toward the ceiling. It had been a very long few days and there was no end in sight now. No soul had ever seen her as she was now; sprawled out like a cat atop her desk, consumed by thoughts she could not control. Tissaia let the smoke leave her slowly as she chewed on the end of her pipe and pondered. Perhaps she should show the Piglet herself instead of letting Istredd help her. No, no. She was being silly. Yennefer knew how to complete the task, she only needed to demonstrate mastery over herself to achieve it. Still, she didn’t want the boy gaining any more influence. Tissaia took another drag as she began to focus on Yennefer’s presence. She was with him. Her emotions were once again swirling. She felt crushed and humiliated, but also listened to. Tissaia couldn’t deny that the girl needed a confidence boost. For how long had she been bullied and beaten and pushed to the dirt? Her whole life, the Rectoress suspected. Still, she was safe now. Aretuza was a sanctuary for people who were other. Tissaia could feel Istredd in Yennefer’s emotions. Kind. She sneered from under her pipe and then took a frustrated puff. The boy had a puppet-master who would use the Piglet if given the chance. She stiffened at the thought. Maybe letting Yennefer have this wasn’t such a good idea after all. Tissaia gathered herself and prepared to project instruction to the girl. But before she got the chance, she could feel her own image swirling strongly in Yennefer’s mind.
Confusion, anger, frustration, calming, grounding, intrigue, irritation, awe, serenity, hurt, wonder.
Tissaia spluttered against her pipe as she tried to retreat from Yennefer’s emotions. They were overwhelming. The hurt saddened her. She had regretted the four marks almost immediately. It was a piece of trust that she doubted she could get back. Still, she couldn’t detect hatred, something that pleased Tissaia more than it should. Just as she was about to return to Yennefer’s thoughts, she noticed that the girl had left Istredd and was returning to her quarters. Tissaia sighed against her pipe. She needed to get out of the habit of reading the Piglet. It would not be long before she developed her telepathic consciousness, and if today had been anything to go by, it would be something difficult to contend with. Tissaia needed to establish boundaries now. Smoke rolled lazily across the room as the Rectoress continued to lose herself in her thoughts.
It had been a very long few days indeed, and Tissaia could see no end in sight.