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“Dijkstra, I swear to god! If you don’t stop pestering me with your puppy love obsession, I will turn into an owl -right here, right now- and I will claw your face off.”
“Phil, there is no need for violence,” The man said, a sound of ruffling something akin to skirt moving was heard, “Please, just one dance.”
“No! I’m going outside. If you are smart enough you won’t follow me.” The woman, Phil, said and walked away from the young man, leaving him with his jaw hanging.
Triss, who was silently witnessing the -rather pathetic- scene unfold, focused her attention on the retreating back of the impressive woman. An important person no doubt, she was invited to King’s Vizimir Christmas ball and that alone stated many things.
She wore a black, backless dress, its sleeves adorned with fine jewelry. Not as fine as her, Triss thought but didn’t dare to voice her growing admiration. After all Coën her mentor was sitting next to her, sporting an annoyed expression.
The two witchers were summoned by the king himself to help eliminate the green dragon terrorizing Tretogor but the beast decided not to come out since the duo set foot in Redanian land thus the invite to the ball.
Coën hated social interactions and despised political conversations even more, but for Triss, it was the first time to attend such a gathering, everything was new and exciting. So to say that he was poot company was an understatement.
“Psst, Coën,” she whispered, aware of the man named Dijkstra's close proximity.
“What now?” The witcher put down his mug mid-sip and raised an eyebrow at his charge.
“Who is this man?” Triss pointed discreetly to the bald man drowning his sorrow in alcohol. He looked like a person of high status, but he was young, close to Triss’s age, and apparently, they shared one more thing in common.
“This is Sigismund Dijkstra, an aspiring spymaster working directly under Philippa Eilhart the king's advisor, the deadliest of all the sorceresses.” Coën downed his drink before continuing, not bothering to whisper the last part, “Best stay clear from the two of them, they smell like trouble, and we are not here to cause a diplomatic episode.”
The last part went completely over Triss’s head, the young witcher had what she wanted. A name to match with a face.
With a sudden jump, she leaped on her feet, leather armor stretching, brown arms in the display, and eyes glowing.
“Whatever you do, please...” said Coën with an audible sigh “Don’t die.”
Triss nodded in his direction, grabbed the most filled mug, and drank it all, wiping her mouth with her hand.
“No promises.” with that, she followed the path to the balcony doors.
Triss strutted confidently to the iced pavement, boots screeching upon crashing the thin ice gathered in the marble floor.
It was dark, no one in their right mind would willingly stand outside, the winter fell heavy in the capital, but Triss had no problem navigating around the dim light.
Philippa was standing with her back turned on her, brown hair was gathered in a thick low ponytail, brown hair appearing black, but Triss has seen them in the ballroom and felt a strong urge to touch them -a move that could probably cost her life- naturally, she resisted.
“It’s rude to eavesdrop on people's conversations.” Philippa’s voice resembled her outer appearance, sharp and straight to the point. She kept her back on the witcher.
Triss chucked and approached carefully to where the sorceress stood gazing at the vast mountains. “Can’t help it, witcher senses and all.”
“Beautiful view,” she said and glanced at the sorceress for a moment. Triss was not a religious person and would never be, but this woman before her was the proof that someone existed above and was able to create art when they were inspired.
“But deadly.” Philippa turned to spare a look at Triss for the first time, her expression closed, not betraying a thing.
“No doubt.” Triss tilted her head, offering a smile that was not returned and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Tell me witcher...” Philippa moved closer shoulders now brushing, “has no one told you to not bite off more than you can chew?” she smirked at Triss changing her for an equally good answer.
“Plenty of times but I tend to not listen.” The witcher met the penetrating gaze full on and was glad that her mutations didn’t allow for blood to rush on her face, otherwise she would be sporting a deep blush.
“You tend to get in trouble, you mean.”
“Only if the cause is worth it.” Triss was treading in dangerous waters. If she offended the sorceress, Coën would be in deep trouble since he was the one in charge and responsible for her actions.
Philippa sized her up from head to toe, then her eyes lingered in Triss’s face and finally a smile grazed her red lips. A predatory one, with too many teeth but still a smile.
“Did your master teach you how to dance?”
Triss furrowed her eyebrows, the question was as absurd as lighting striking on a sunny day, why would a woman like Philippa would want to be seen dancing in public with a witcher.
Triss knew the words that were whispered behind her back, ‘monsters’, ‘freaks’, ‘mutants’ were the most common but didn’t hurt any less. The king's advisors almost combusted when he announced the invitation to the ball, there was no place for witchers in the place where the high and mighty would celebrate.
Triss felt a bitterness grow and be directed to the sorceress, Philippa was openly mocking her and her status. The witcher wanted to bolt and leave the ball behind, she would take Coën with her and they would go to an inn where they could relax properly, not worrying about following the status quo.
“You could just say that you weren’t interested, I wouldn’t take offense at your rejection.” Triss pushed her feet to move backward, there was no reason to stay out here anymore.
“What nonsense are you spurting?” Philippa caught Triss by the forearm the exact time before she turned, “I offer you to dance, and this is how you react?”
“Are you not mocking me? You the King’s advisor, dancing with a lowly witcher?” Triss asked, suspicion laced in every word.
“Oh, I see, you are stupid.” Philippa released her forearm only to grab lower and lace their fingers together. “I asked for a dance, and hereby as the king's advisor…” she leaned into Triss’s space, “I command you to accept.”
The witcher’s pupils dilated, the viper-like appearance of the eyes vanished for a moment. Triss was weak against powerful women, it was a characteristic worth of mockery according to her mentor and the other griffin school witchers, but she just couldn’t help it.
“Well, if I have no other option.” some of the confidence came back but she still held back a little.
Philippa didn’t speak further, she led Triss back inside just in time to mix organically with the rest of the couples swarming on the dance floor.
The musicians were going on full swing, a beautiful song was playing, fast and demanding fit for adept dancers.
“Do you know how to lead?” Philippa placed a hand on Triss’s leather-clad shoulder, they were not moving yet.
“I know how, but I wouldn’t dream of leading a woman like you,” said Triss, only a fool would dare lead the sorceress and the witcher contrary to popular belief was not one.
“I like your attitude witcher. I find it refreshing but since you know how to lead...” In a swift motion, Philippa had Triss’s hand to her waist, putting them in a dancing position. “It’s not up to discussion.”
They began adjusting to the rhythm, Triss’s heart on par with the music beat, Philippa snuggled close to her body moving as one. They passed between couples, swinging around never leaving their eyes to wander anywhere else.
Yellow met brown and the witcher was in a trance, Philippa was leading them, Triss just obediently followed the instructions. She pulled, pushed, and dipped the woman according to the signals she gave, a little pressure on the shoulder, nails brushing her neck, were all so delicious gestures for Triss.
As they neared the tables, whispers could reach her enchanted ears. ‘What is she doing with the freak? ’a man asked his wife, “This is an embarrassment for the royal court,” said a woman to her friend.
Philippa pushed herself on Triss, pulling the witcher out of her stupor.
“It seems that I didn’t make myself clear.” Her husky voice tingled on Triss’s ear and shivers run along her spine making themselves visible on her arms “I want your attention on me.” Philippa pressed her mouth sneakily on Triss’s neck “And only me.”
“Possessive much?” Triss joked while the sorceress gestured them to dance towards the center.
“It’s only natural when someone captures my attention.” Philippa leaned close, the distance between them nonexistent, a few grasps could be heard from the scandalized women on the dance floor, but Triss had a new request that she intended to fulfill.
“Don’t you care? They speak behind your back.”
“If I cared for every person who badmouths me, I wouldn’t be here and have this position, being the king’s advisor is a tough job. These nobles are vicious and ready to tear you down, I can’t afford to seem weak.” Philippa moved closer, the witcher’s instincts told Triss that whatever words she came up with would be dismissed by the sorceress, so she simply held the advisor tighter.
After some time, the music changed, a different pace was set, couples began changing partners and Dijkstra joined the dance.
Philippa scowled, a well-dressed man attempted to swap with Triss and the sorceress scared him away.
“Your friend will want to dance with you,” said Triss as she pushed Philippa away only to pull her back almost instantly, gaining a coy smile in the process.
Self-consciousness nestled on Triss’s mind only to be dissolved by Philippa’s next words.
“There is no swapping for us. I’m not keen on sharing my partners.”
“Guess I’m the one that should be worried.” Triss glanced around, Dijkstra was swapping partners like crazy trying to reach them. “Seems like I have competition.”
“Seems like you have a dire need for a lesson on how to read women signals.” Philippa took a step back left the witcher’s embrace, dodged a couple with such agility that Triss envied, and charged forward for a lift.
Triss instinctively reached her arms and caught the sorceress, she let Philippa gracefully to the floor a laugh escaping her mouth, this woman was full of wonders and surprises.
“A warning would be nice…you know, to save both of us the embarrassment,” said Triss, the gossip of tomorrow morning would be spicy enough, no messy fall needed.
“The embarrassment would befall you, what kind of witcher gets surprised?” Philippa was smirking and Triss ached to lean in, but it was not the time, maybe later if she got lucky.
Dijkstra appeared next to them, ruining the jovial mood, a smug look on his face. Up close he looked even younger than Triss thought and for a moment she wondered if she seemed as hopeless as he did moments ago, when he flirted with Philippa.
“Phill, a moment,” said Dijkstra, while he changed his dance partner once more.
Philippa nuzzled her head to Triss’s neck to muffle her laughter, a melodious sound that struck through the young witchers heart, the sorceress was getting lovelier with every passing second.
“Lady Eilhart, can I have my pupil back?” Coën’s voice had Triss jumping, she spotted the source of the sorceress’s laughter but didn’t dare follow her example.
The master witcher was dancing with Dijkstra, a grave expression on his face, Triss felt like a teenager who was caught by her father while sneaking a girl into her room
“Only for a moment,” he added, sensing the sorceress’s resistance.
“Coën,” Philippa greeted, “I can’t say that I’m glad to see you.”
“Likewise.” Coën fell into Dijkstra’s arms, the couple performed a rather impressive move earning a few glances from the others.
Triss was a dead woman come morning, she tightened the hold on Philippa, basking on her warmth and comfort before the inevitable scolding.
“One minute, then I want my witcher back.”
“It’s Triss,” said Triss, rather stupidly, it only occurred to her that she hadn’t told Philippa her name.
“Triss,” The sorceress paused, tasting the name on her lips, savoring it letter by letter. “Very well.” Her fingers brushed on Triss’s nape where they rested for a moment, the young witcher leaned forward, enthralled by the gentle touch.
Philippa withdrew her hands -much to Triss’s pout- and addressed the bald man with a beckoning motion. “Dijkstra, come! I will grant your wish, but then I hope that you will leave me alone. I want to enjoy my night with my new companion.”
Triss grinned, heat rushed through her body at the clear indication. Coën glared disapprovingly and Dijkstra looked crestfallen, Philippa had just shot him down.
The two women parted, Triss now held hands with her mentor, leather touched leather their matching armors made them a sight to behold. Dijkstra led Philippa away, posture hunched, stance stripped of confidence.
“Show me how you lead.” Coën used his teacher's voice, the voice Triss heard for years when she trained in Kaer Seren. The witcher had taught her from fighting and other useful skills to survive in the path, to dining etiquette and dancing.
Triss placed a hand to his waist, he had spent hours trying to make her a decent dancer, which was no easy fit, the young witcher had two left feet and no sense of rhythm.
“You know that leading is not my strongest suit.”
It was the role she had the least practice, Coën had at first trained Triss to follow the lead but when he realized that his charge was attracted to women, (way before Triss did) he took it upon himself to teach her both roles.
“I know, but I see that you found the perfect partner to help you.”
“Indeed.” Triss didn’t know what more to say, she didn’t expect Coën to not be downright disapproving, she thought that he would have chewed her ear off by now.
“People are talking, are you okay?” her mentor was well aware of Triss’s feelings, the young witcher always aimed to please and had trouble dealing with people’s bad attitudes and hateful opinions.
Triss didn’t answer, instead, she twirled them around, their height difference a little comical but they pulled it off.
“It’s fine, people will always talk.” She wasn’t entirely confident when answering but wanted to believe her words.
“Are you ready to face them?” Coën glanced to the left, Dijkstra and Philippa had stopped dancing and were arguing, right in the middle of the floor.
“I am.”
Coën released Triss, his mouth twisted into a tight-lipped smile, a strange expression to his usually expressionless face.
“Go then, I believe our minute is up.”
Triss nodded, this was it, she braced herself to move towards the starting commotion, no one was dancing anymore, the music had stopped, everyone waited for the argument to unfold.
Not if I can help it.
Triss entered the formed circle, she pushed the bystanders with her leather-clad shoulders and managed to stand in front of them.
“This is social suicide!” Dijkstra all but yelled at Philippa’s face, a vein popped on his neck, he was filled with angry passion.
“Have I not told you to stay out of my business in all regards? Jealousy doesn’t suit you.” Philippa’s calm voice was a far cry from Dijkstra’s shouting, her posture relaxed, it was like the man before she was a mere pest that she had to shoo away or crunch it with her heel, depending on the mood.
“Jealous! I’m not jealous, I just look out for you!”
“I don’t need you too. Now stop, you are making a scene.”
Luckily for Dijkstra, Philippa was in a forgiving mood and didn’t make her earlier threat reality, it would be indecent to turn into an owl while surrounded by people.
Triss neared them, she touched Philippa on the shoulder getting her attention.
The whispering came back, but this time the witcher didn’t let it bother her if the sorceress was not ashamed to be seen together with her there was no reason to be concerned with petty talk.
“Was the dance, okay?” said Triss, Dijkstra already forgotten behind, only his curses could be heard.
“It was more than okay.” Philippa came closer, their noses almost brushing.
The crowd didn’t dissolve, they were watching them with great interest.
“Pity that we got interrupted,” said the sorceress, eyes never leaving Triss’s, “but alas, we have to make do with our current situation.”
Triss tensed, Philippa was testing her and the witcher was ready to bite.
“I don’t want this night to end on such a bad note.” Triss winced at her words, she didn’t want to come off as too forward. Philippa seemed intrigued her hand reached to cup Triss’s jaw, stripping the witcher of every functioning thought.
“Do tell Triss, what do you propose that we do?”
“Join me back in the inn where I stay?” Really now? The offer was not fit for a woman in Philippa’s standing but it was the only offer Triss could make, at least she had her own room, Coën was staying a whole story away.
“A great idea, but it can be improved.”Philippa’s fingers run soothingly to Triss’s cheeks as she spoke, a softness the witcher hadn’t experienced in years, her past lovers didn’t care enough to give her comfort.
“How so?” Triss tilted her head in question, an owlish gesture that had Philippa biting her lip not to laugh and ruin the moment.
“Let’s go to my mansion, we can continue dancing there.” Philippa’s hands slid lowered until her fingers were laced to Triss’s.
“Dancing?” Triss asked as Philippa began leading them towards the ballroom’s door.
Did she misread the signals? The sorceress didn’t state her explicit non-platonic intentions but still-
“Don’t get lost in your head now,” Philippa teased and opened the door, letting them out in the cold.
The snow reached slightly above their knees, making it impossible to navigate in the city if you were not familiar with its roads.
“Philippa-” Triss’s words died in her mouth, a snowflake landed directly on her nose.
“Oh dear, we can’t have you getting cold,” Philippa said while moving closer to the witcher. She kissed Triss’s nose first, vanishing the snowflake with her heat, and then, without a warning, her full lips landed on Triss’s.
Triss’s eyes widened until realization hit her and she closed them. The heat was the only word she could use to describe the way Philippa kissed. The sorceress was demanding, requiring the witcher’s full attention, she took the lead of the kiss, nipping at Triss’s bottom lip prompting the witcher to open up so she could slither inside with her tongue.
They parted only for a moment to catch their breaths, pupils dilated and hands roaming everywhere.
Triss realized that she was in deep trouble, something told her that this interaction with Philippa was only the beginning.