Only Time Would Tell

There will never be a world in which this is right.

But then, who decides what is right and what is wrong?

Yennefer breathed deeply into her cupped hands, the soft smell of the sweet berries filling her nostrils. For some reason, the scent bought her comfort. She never knew if it was because of her mother. Back when she got a little whiff of motherly love. Or it was because of Tissaia. Whatever the reason it was, the scent of berries did soothe her mind.

She had grown tired of constantly fighting.

Fighting for what was rightfully hers.

Fighting to prove her worth.

Fighting for her place in the world.

Sweet dreams of death, ones that continue to plague her mind and tempt her to give in to its sweet release- how delightful.

Tempting indeed, the long undisturbed slumber of neverending golden dreams- all away from the horrible nightmare of her world.

Her cruel world. A cruel game. Surviving is a pain.

Cheating is a pleasure, but one she wasn't sure she wanted to indulge in any longer.

Geralt.

A scoff escaped from her mouth as she downed another mug of the rancid alcohol.

Love. What a beautiful illusion. Like an enticing mirage that captivates the mind and body.

But disappointing.

Purple orbs looked up to the starry skies that shone brilliantly. The cold breeze swept past her, making her shudder slightly.

Why was love so easy for others to find and thrive with? Or was it her fault?

Yennefer was a woman with a will of her own- unyielding and resolute.

As a young girl who was thrown around, broken, ravaged and fractured, she learnt the ways and rules of life the hard way. And she would forever be thankful for her rough past, without which she wouldn't have been her- strong and determined.

But one question remained.

Why her? Why was she constantly thrashed around relentlessly?

'I am sorry you chose power.'

'No amount of power or beauty will make you feel worthy of either.'

'A child is not a way to boost your fragile ego, Yen.'

All wise words that were thrown at her by her lovers.

Ones who she believed loved her.

But in the end, it was always about the same damn thing- power.

Her being hungry for power even though to survive, power is the key, and that is what she wanted.

But then, she was only looked at as a conduit of magic- a weapon perhaps if given autonomy and identity, disaster would prevail.

And because she is a woman. Unacceptable to be powerful, even if she is special.

Just a vessel for them to take. And take. And take.

"It's never fair, is it?" Yennefer whispered to herself with a small wry smile.

The Djinn.

One for whom she was to be a vessel.

If her wishes were granted, she'd have had a legacy to leave behind.

Something of her own flesh and blood.

Something to nurture and cherish.

Something to love unconditionally.

To give something she never got.

But as fate had it, or as the Witcher had it, their stars were rewritten after he wished to bind their lives together till the very end.

He saved her, indeed.

But binding their fate? Binding her to him?

She doesn't have a say.

She doesn't even know if the passion she felt towards him was because of the wish or because it is real.

He only bound their fates. Not feelings. That should mean something, right?

It didn't feel right. It didn't feel wrong either.

"It's just magic." She whispered, letting a lone tear fall off her cheek as she closed her eyes, breathing in the fresh air of the meadows, letting herself indulge in the wholesome goodness of nature a little more.

Only if the sorceress knew that her fate was not just bound to Geralt but also to his Child Surprise- Cirilla.

Only if she knew that Cirilla was the answer to all the questions and burnt and ached her heart.

Only if she knew that Cirilla was what would make her whole- she was the something more that Yennefer missed in her life.

But then where does that put Geralt?

Destinies entwined or love's blind chance?

Only time would tell.