A bitter aftertaste lingers in Freya’s mouth at her brother’s interference, but she dutifully follows Niklaus out of the party. He glances over at her, the edge of a smirk crossing his features.
“Oh, don’t look so sour, sister. I didn’t mean to interrupt your dalliance with the court witch.” Over his shoulder, Yennefer remains watching their exit. “I’m sure you could smuggle your way back into the castle to pay her a visit later.”
“No, it’s too soon. She needs more.” Klaus raises an eyebrow curiously, and Freya continues. “For all that I know of Yennefer of Vengerberg, and what I know of her time in Aretuza, Yennefer doesn’t like to do anything unless she believes it’s her own idea.”
“I know you are subtle enough in your manipulations to achieve that.”
“Perhaps. But it’s better if it’s not a manipulation. Don’t worry, brother. If there’s anything we have, it’s an abundance of time.”
Their mother saw to that, after all. Not for Freya, necessarily—her gifts she came by as honestly as she could as a mage. But for Niklaus, and Elijah and the rest, her mother’s dark arts granted them all the vitality and weariness an eternal life could offer.
Klaus presses his lips together, frustrated. “The longer we let Stregobor work is machinations, the larger the chance that Hope—”
Klaus’ daughter, the rare miracle that she is, sits in a cottage far from here, with her mother and aunt doting on her while Klaus, Freya and Elijah do the work that needs to be done to ensure her safety. She knows as well as Klaus does Hope was born under an eclipse, the object of Stregobor’s latest fixation.
She also knows, better than Klaus, that Stregobor would burn the world to ensure that no woman had power, and any who would dare to use it against him quickly becomes a monster in his chosen narrative. But that doesn’t mean they could afford to speed up their timetable.
“Hope is safe. Stregobor will have to become twice the wizard he is to break through my cloaking spells. But regardless, rushing Yennefer will not help. We need to take our time. Do this right.”
Klaus grits his teeth, eventually yielding to the promise she offers. They will protect Hope.
They just need a little more time.
* * * * *
Later, when she’s alone in her room at the inn, she turns to find Yennefer sitting on the bed. Well, not Yennefer exactly, but a projection of her. Quite the skilled sorceress, indeed.
“What did you mean, if I ever wanted to find other work?”
Freya tips her head to the side. “I have a quest. More of a crusade, really. To destroy a man who takes delight in destroying women like us. Something I could use your help on, in fact.”
“You mean Stregobor.”
“Amazing how fast his reputation comes to mind, isn’t it?”
“I won’t deny that he is what you say. But why now? You’ve lived a long time, and so has your family, without taking an interest in meddling in the affairs of magic. What changed?”
Freya hesitates, unsure how to proceed. It’s possible this tenuous illusion might not be Yennefer at all. “A conversation about when we meet again.”
“Why?”
“Because. Trust is earned. I think you understand that.” Freya leans in closer, getting in the illusion’s space, admiring how real it feels. “So until we meet again.”
Yennefer smiles, as the image flickers and disappears. And with her, the bitterness fades, glad that she said enough to make an impression.
the sacred geometry of chance | tvdverse/the witcher | 600
A bitter aftertaste lingers in Freya’s mouth at her brother’s interference, but she dutifully follows Niklaus out of the party. He glances over at her, the edge of a smirk crossing his features.
“Oh, don’t look so sour, sister. I didn’t mean to interrupt your dalliance with the court witch.” Over his shoulder, Yennefer remains watching their exit. “I’m sure you could smuggle your way back into the castle to pay her a visit later.”
“No, it’s too soon. She needs more.” Klaus raises an eyebrow curiously, and Freya continues. “For all that I know of Yennefer of Vengerberg, and what I know of her time in Aretuza, Yennefer doesn’t like to do anything unless she believes it’s her own idea.”
“I know you are subtle enough in your manipulations to achieve that.”
“Perhaps. But it’s better if it’s not a manipulation. Don’t worry, brother. If there’s anything we have, it’s an abundance of time.”
Their mother saw to that, after all. Not for Freya, necessarily—her gifts she came by as honestly as she could as a mage. But for Niklaus, and Elijah and the rest, her mother’s dark arts granted them all the vitality and weariness an eternal life could offer.
Klaus presses his lips together, frustrated. “The longer we let Stregobor work is machinations, the larger the chance that Hope—”
Klaus’ daughter, the rare miracle that she is, sits in a cottage far from here, with her mother and aunt doting on her while Klaus, Freya and Elijah do the work that needs to be done to ensure her safety. She knows as well as Klaus does Hope was born under an eclipse, the object of Stregobor’s latest fixation.
She also knows, better than Klaus, that Stregobor would burn the world to ensure that no woman had power, and any who would dare to use it against him quickly becomes a monster in his chosen narrative. But that doesn’t mean they could afford to speed up their timetable.
“Hope is safe. Stregobor will have to become twice the wizard he is to break through my cloaking spells. But regardless, rushing Yennefer will not help. We need to take our time. Do this right.”
Klaus grits his teeth, eventually yielding to the promise she offers. They will protect Hope.
They just need a little more time.
Later, when she’s alone in her room at the inn, she turns to find Yennefer sitting on the bed. Well, not Yennefer exactly, but a projection of her. Quite the skilled sorceress, indeed.
“What did you mean, if I ever wanted to find other work?”
Freya tips her head to the side. “I have a quest. More of a crusade, really. To destroy a man who takes delight in destroying women like us. Something I could use your help on, in fact.”
“You mean Stregobor.”
“Amazing how fast his reputation comes to mind, isn’t it?”
“I won’t deny that he is what you say. But why now? You’ve lived a long time, and so has your family, without taking an interest in meddling in the affairs of magic. What changed?”
Freya hesitates, unsure how to proceed. It’s possible this tenuous illusion might not be Yennefer at all. “A conversation about when we meet again.”
“Why?”
“Because. Trust is earned. I think you understand that.” Freya leans in closer, getting in the illusion’s space, admiring how real it feels. “So until we meet again.”
Yennefer smiles, as the image flickers and disappears. And with her, the bitterness fades, glad that she said enough to make an impression.