Title: La Douleur Exquise
Author: Sapphire Smoke
Beta: Cheyenne (sexualsportswear tumblr)
Fandom: The Witcher
Rating: M
Pairing(s): Triss/Philippa, Triss/Yennefer (and to some extent Triss/Geralt)
Summary: Sometimes, when you stare too long at something unattainable, you forget to be grateful for the things that you already have. Unfortunately, Triss knew this better than most.
A/N: I finally finished the books and got hit with FEELINGS so here we are again. Although this fic starts after the books and goes through the events of the games (and also pulls minimal dialog from both), be aware that when hit with a contradiction such as character appearance or name, I have gone with the book versions as they are considered to be more canon. So if you've just played the games and are confused why I did 'xyz' that's probably why. Anyway, this will probably only be three or four parts, so don't expect anything super long.

PART I

"She isn't dead!"

A suffocating tightness gripped Triss' chest as she fought to will her words into existence. She had watched Ciri sail away with them, yes, but Yennefer had just been unconscious. Geralt though, the witcher, he was dying; was dead by now, no doubt. Getting speared with a pitchfork was not something one could easily come back from, and as the two sorceresses had spent all their energy on trying to ward off the rioting townsfolk, when the time came, they had none to spare for his life. The guilt ate away at Triss' soul, but there was a part of her that thought perhaps, if she were to find Yennefer and Ciri again, if she were to make certain that they were alright and cared for, that Geralt would forgive her.

Because she had made so many mistakes regarding him. Regarding them both, truthfully; him and Yennefer, the two people whom Triss had once tried to get in the middle of because of reasons she hadn't fully understood back then.

But she understood now. God, she understood it now so badly that it hurt, and unfortunately, it seemed that she was not the only one who knew the truth that Triss once thought she could ignore.

Philippa Eilhart, a sorceress of regal beauty and devastating power, reached out to gently caress the younger woman's cheek. It should have been comforting, but Triss could feel the condescension in the gesture. Sometimes, here in this place that Philippa had carved out for them amidst the rubble of the world, Triss felt taken care of. Other times, she felt like nothing more than a silly toy, only here to pass the time until Philippa found something else more entertaining.

"I know why you desire her survival, but to delude yourself is far worse than facing an unfavorable truth," Philippa told her, her fingertips tracing the curvature of the younger woman's jaw. Triss wished it did not distract as much as it did, for that only made her feel worse. Philippa always did know how to tear her away from reality though, and for someone who had such an unforgiving one, it was a gift Triss found herself unable to ignore. "Despite what you may wish, you and I both know how much that foolish woman loved her witcher, and you know that she would not have given up. She would have given all of herself to save him, and she did. It just was not enough. You must accept it and move on; we still have important matters to attend to. The Lodge needs your full attention right now, Triss."

Fuck the Lodge, Triss wanted to say, yet bit her tongue in the statement's stead. Instead, her face flushed with upset, her breath exhaling unsteadily.

"I need your full attention."

That was playing dirty, and Philippa knew it. She did not care though, and suddenly slender fingers were sliding through chestnut hair until they tangled at the base of Triss' neck, eliciting a light gasp. Philippa's body pressed against hers and Triss' head swam, but this wasn't what they were—this was important…

"I owe it to him to find her, Phil— to find both of them."

Philippa's lips paused just before they connected with the young woman's jugular. A long, frustrated sigh followed. She pulled back. "Geralt is dead," Philippa harshly reminded her consort. "Your ill-placed guilt because of your unrequited love does not have a place here anymore."

Triss almost laughed at that. "I wasn't in love with Geralt."

"No," Philippa agreed, but her tone held something behind it. Knowledge. Understanding. Judgement. "You were not, were you?"

Triss' stomach dropped to the floor, suddenly afraid that Philippa would toss her aside for such an emotional betrayal. Philippa may not be where her heart resided, but Triss needed her. She was the only stability that she had, the only sanity that comforted her after the world had tried to rob her from it time and time again. However, the other woman only rolled her eyes at the look on Triss' face.

"You can't possibly fear that I'm jealous?" Philippa laughed softly, as if the fact that her lover pined after another was of little to no consequence to her. Triss wasn't entirely sure if she should be relieved or hurt by that reaction, and something in the pit of her gut twisted.

"I enjoy you, my pet, but your emotional devotion was never something I sought from you. Your uses far extend something so frivolous," Philippa informed her, gently brushing an errant strand from the younger sorceress' eyes. She smirked then, as though she were amused beyond what was called for in this situation, as it made Triss feel even more foolish. "You really thought I didn't know?"

"…I hardly knew," Triss admitted softly, her cheeks coloring with shame and regret.

Because it had taken her too long - longer than Triss would have liked to admit - to realize the extent of her feelings for Yennefer. They had slept together once; what felt like a lifetime ago. It had been nothing more than an overindulgence of wine and the desire to try something different with a trusted friend, and though it weighed on Triss' mind from time to time, she did not think much more of it. Sorceresses tended to have many partners and never really regarded sex as anything particularly special, and although Yennefer had been Triss' first time with a woman, she certainly had not been her last.

But then Geralt came along, and he was so unlike anyone that Triss had ever met before. Triss had grown fond of him, but Yen had grown fonder. It made Triss jealous, and like a fool she actually believed it was because she herself had wanted him. Yet Triss eventually had him, had practically tricked Geralt into giving her exactly what it was that she thought she desired, and nothing changed. There was still this emptiness inside of her that Triss did not know how to sate, and for a while she thought it was because his heart still belonged to her, not realizing for a second that it was because hers still belonged to him.

What an idiot she had been.

Because it wasn't just about the fact that they slept together once, or that she was jealous when she saw how happy she was with Geralt. It was how Yennefer had always been one of her dearest friends, it was how she was patient and wise and helped Triss grow into herself and her own abilities. It was how she squinted when she laughed and how her hair contrasted in the light of the sun; it was how her voice gave Triss a rush of excitement, and how her gaze caused the pit of her stomach to twist and burn.

Yennefer was fire, and all Triss ached for was be consumed by it. By her.

"You were awfully transparent when Yennefer unexpectedly dropped in on us to spew her ridiculous platitudes about keeping the Lodge's secrets safe. Blushing in guilt as you tried to hide my presence from her," Philippa told her, the corners of her lips still curled upwards in amusement as she continued to play with the young woman's hair. It was almost as though she were grooming her, and it made Triss feel very young. Naive. "It was almost cute, until you started shamelessly begging for a traitor's forgiveness. Did you know then, that she would always break your heart?"

Triss turned her cheek from the other woman. "Don't be cruel, Phil."

But yes. The answer was yes. Then, Triss knew, and yet she still ached for the pain anyway. She truly wished that she knew why, for it seemed to be nothing but madness.

"If my words sting you, then you misunderstand their intentions," Philippa responded, her tone softer this time. Kinder. She brushed her fingers across Triss' cheek once more, coaxing the young woman to meet her gaze. Suddenly, Triss felt so very delicate, as though anything more than a mere touch would shatter her soul. "I don't say these things to hurt you, but to make you realize that there is no happiness in chasing a double-edged sword. Whether you find Yennefer or not, whether she is alive or not, she will still cut you. She will cut you as she has so many times before and you will find yourself here with me once again, begging me to erase the scars that she's left upon your heart."

Triss' brow etched. "I've never…"

"You never had to."

Triss swallowed the emotion that had welled up in the back of her throat, trying to ignore the mist that had formed over her eyes as Philippa reminded her of the ugly truth that she could not bear to face. But she was thankful, she had always been thankful for Philippa. Despite never having been asked, the woman had always known how to fix her when she was broken, and so Triss, in her desperate desire to mend the crack in her soul, leaned forwards and pressed her lips against what was safe and honest and real in her life.

The kiss was returned in kind.

Triss wanted to forget, to just move on and finally make a life for herself that wasn't steeped in pain and regret, but the guilt of just giving up on the woman she loved was weighing heavy on her thoughts and so to push them away Triss kissed Philippa harder, her fingertips digging into the back of the other woman's neck.

"You'll take care of me, won't you?"

The words were breathed unevenly against a pair of lips as Triss was purposefully backed up towards the bed. She was begging; Triss could hear it in her own voice and it sounded awfully pathetic, but in that moment, she couldn't find it within herself to care. She needed Philippa right now; perhaps she had always needed her, even though it was no doubt foolish to need someone who very clearly did not return the sentiment.

The back of Triss' knees hit the bed, and a fierce beauty toppled down upon her. Triss' eyes fell closed as she felt purposeful hands unclasp her dress and hot breaths against her ear. "You needn't have to ask," Philippa told her, and God, the sound of her voice made Triss bloody weak. Her insides clenched and her cheeks flooded with color, and Triss could feel the other woman smile wickedly against her neck, for she knew what she did to her.

And she enjoyed it.

Perhaps it was Philippa who was fooling herself. Perhaps she did need someone more than she let on, and only sealed her heart away so it would never become broken. But then there was this other part of her, this part of Triss that feared that she really was nothing more than a game; a means to an end, a way to give Philippa more power, let alone a sure-fire way to manipulate a member of the Lodge.

How many other members was Philippa bedding to achieve those ends, Triss wondered.

Don't think like that, she silently demanded, feeling her self-confidence spiraling when this moment was meant to do the opposite. It was quickly overshadowed by a surge of arousal though as Philippa's mouth closed around the base of her neck, the woman having sucked the supple flesh into her mouth with such ferocity that Triss knew it would leave a mark later. She moaned, her fingernails digging into the older woman's back as she felt Philippa's hand shove the bottom of her dress upwards.

"Besides," Philippa husked as she began to move down the young sorceress' body, pushing fabric out of the way until she reached her desired destination. "Even if Yennefer were alive, even if she were to bed you and fulfil all those wistful little fantasies of yours, that woman would never be able to make you feel the way I do. No one could. Remember that, for it'll do you well to realize that you could finally want for nothing at all, should you only allow yourself to."

If Yennefer ever bedded her. At the very least, Philippa did not hold all her secrets. Not yet.

Triss did not have time to retort though. Philippa's mouth was on her and suddenly Triss forgot how to breath, to see, to do anything other than cry out and grasp for the woman between her thighs. Her back arched off the mattress, her eyes squeezed shut so tightly that she saw stars behind her lids and felt fireworks within her loins, and maybe Philippa was right.

Maybe she was right.

[x]

"You aren't riding to a rendezvous with your lover, Triss," Yennefer had reminded her, looking at the other woman with contempt born from her own misplaced jealousy. "I'm neither so noble, nor so stupid as to give you the chance and him the temptation."

You idiot, Triss thought, her insides aching from the look she was receiving. You absolute fool, it's not him that I want.

"A little more humility, you arrogant slut! He's my man, mine and only mine!"

Triss was angry. Yennefer screamed and in that moment, Triss hated her. She hated her for being so narrowminded, for being so bloody wrong all the time. She hated him for turning Yennefer into this person, when Triss had always known her to rise above all others, instead of—!

There was screaming, but this time it wasn't coming from either of them.

"Witch! Elven witch! Enchantress!"

Triss shouted as Yennefer was hit on the shoulders, on the back of her head. The woman fell to her knees before she ripped through them all with pale blue fire, and Triss, in her desperation and fear, grasped onto the only thing she could truly see in that moment. "Let's flee from here… Yenna!"

But Yennefer wouldn't flee. Yennefer wouldn't leave either of them, and it was then that Triss knew she had doomed herself. Doomed them both. Because she could not leave Yennefer to her fate, and as stones rained down upon them and blood squirted from Yennefer's nose, Triss grasped onto the briefly unconscious woman to pull her to safety.

"Triss …" Yennefer gurgled once she had come to, the blood beginning to flow down the back of her throat. "Teleport us out of here!"

"No, Yennefer."

Triss knew Yennefer would never forgive her if they left Geralt, if they left Ciri, and so Triss resolved herself to stay. To die if she must, if that was her fate. She would not weep and faint in fear as she had at Sodden Hill. She would not leave Yennefer; she would not leave anyone. Not again.

A hailstorm raged from above as a power Triss had never really known flowed through her with devastating results. But it wasn't enough. Nothing she had done was ever enough. The crowd had dispersed but Geralt was still lying in a pool of his own blood, and Triss was paralyzed with devastation as she watched the light start to go out in Yennefer's eyes as she tried in vain to heal a dying man.

"Stop!"

It was what Triss had wanted to say, wanted to scream until her throat was reddened and raw because she could see what Yennefer was doing to herself, but the word never crossed her lips. Not until now, not until nearly five years after those events when she awoke from a dream feeling feverish and frightened. Triss clutched the sheets to her chest as she sat straight up, her breathing coming out in heavy, uneven bursts.

The body next to her groaned sleepily, and a man's hand landed heavily on her thigh. "Triss…?"

The voice was deep, familiar. A man back from the dead; come to haunt her, taunt her, and remind her of all her failures that she would rather forget. Something inside of Triss' gut twisted uncomfortably but she quickly reminded herself of why she was here, and what she was trying to achieve by participating in this madness.

"I'm fine. Go back to sleep, Geralt."

The words were said in the same tone she had used since shortly after she met an amnesia-riddled Geralt of Rivia in Kaer Morhen. It was deeper than her normal voice, and much more self-assured. It had just been a stray thought, a moment of 'what if' that spun out of control, even though Triss believed that it would eventually prove to be worth it.

The mind of an amnesiac was a delicate thing, and the mind of an amnesiac witcher was even more so. It was a combination of having undergone extensive mutations and those damned potions that they took, and so Vesemir had told Triss that the best course of action would be to allow Geralt to regain his memories on his own. That meant that she could not tell Geralt about Ciri, that meant she could not tell him about Yennefer, and so Triss did the only thing she could think to do in that moment: she became her instead.

And perhaps it was stupid; perhaps no amount of acting like Yennefer would make Geralt remember who she was, but Triss was desperate. If Geralt was alive, that meant that Yennefer probably was as well, and Triss… she needed to know for sure. She needed to find her.

"I heard… screaming."

Geralt sounded confused, blinking heavily as he tried to clear the sleep from his mind. He did not fare very well in the task.

"You're still feverish, my darling," Triss told him softly, the back of her hand touching his clammy forehead. He still looked and felt awful; whatever happened in that swamp had taken a lot out of him. "Go back to sleep now. You must heal."

Geralt mumbled a few more incoherent words, but did as he was instructed, leaving Triss to look down at the man sleeping next to her and wonder how much longer she could keep this up before fantasy inevitably faded away, and she was trapped in a reality built on lies.

[x]

"Strange seeing your face here; I had thought you'd abandoned the Lodge to tend to your witcher."

Color flooded Triss' cheeks as she stood in the doorway of Philippa's house in the dwarven town of Vergen. Despite how that accusation made her feel though, Triss continued to maintain eye contact; she would not be shamed for her priorities as of late. "I never abandoned the Lodge, Phil. I just… got sidetracked. Momentarily." A beat, and Triss shuffled the weight between her feet. "And he is not mine."

Philippa smirked. She looked amused – mostly at Triss' expense. "Does he know that?"

Triss, however, chose not to answer that. Geralt was so very far from the conversation that they should be having. After seeing Sheala in Flotsam, Triss had begun to grow paranoid about what the Lodge wasn't telling her, and it was then that she realized that she had been far removed from any of their dealings. She just hadn't noticed until it was too late.

"Is that why you cut me off? Why I was no longer included in the Lodge's plans?" Triss asked, growing angry. "You thought that my loyalty had wavered?"

"It has been six months, Triss. Six months since you've been actively involved in our order, and yet you think that you can come here and demand answers? Demand our trust? Don't make me laugh."

"Is that truly how little you think of me?" Triss asked, her chest weighing heavy with emotion as she set eyes on the woman that had been such a significant part of her life for many, many years. "You know it was never Geralt I truly cared for, and yet you really believe that I threw out my entire life because of him?Because he came back?"

"No," Philippa agreed. Her expression was still void of emotion, but Triss knew it was nothing more than a well-placed mask. Philippa had always been awfully good at detaching herself from things in order to dictate and rule. "But Geralt is the link between yourself and your beloved Yennefer, is he not? And although I know the Lodge was once a great priority of yours, I cannot guarantee that now. That is what concerns me, and it was why I instructed the other members to keep you in the dark about our plans. You are emotional, Triss. It is something I've found to be enchantingly endearing at times, but it also makes for a terrible ally."

Triss sucked in a sharp breath at those words, surprised by how painfully they twisted in her gut. She had come here in a wave of self-righteous anger over not being included, yes, but this was Philippa. She wasn't supposed to just toss her aside like that; she wasn't supposed to be this mistrustful of her, for Triss had never done anything to really deserve it. At least not when it came to her.

"Yennefer was not the only person I cared about," Triss responded angrily, the words hitching in the back of her throat. It took every ounce of self-control to not start crying with frustrated tears, and her next words came out scathing. "And fuck you if you honestly thought that she was."

Triss felt her throat close as she fought her upset, and she turned away from the woman whom she refused to let see her cry. However, the door that she had left open in her wake of fury now shut loudly before her without any physical prompting, blocking her path to freedom. A tear finally escaped from her eye then, making its torturous decent down Triss' cheek.

"See, what did I tell you? Emotional."

It wasn't said in a negative way though. If anything, Philippa just sounded a little exasperated by it. Triss could feel the other woman behind her, yet she still jumped a little when Philippa touched her arm, encouraging her to turn around. Triss' brow was set, her cheeks flushed and wet. The corners of Philippa's mouth turned down into a frown before she wiped away the tears as though she were an impatient mother cleaning their child's face.

"Don't be so ridiculous. I'm not casting you out, but I do reserve the right to be wary. Either way, your position with the Lodge is not synonymous with your position with me, so come to bed. It's why you came here, wasn't it?"

Triss exhaled an exasperated sigh and pulled away from her. "No, that is not why I came here. I came here because I wanted to know why—!"

"You know why," Philippa interrupted, causing the rest of Triss' words to die in the back of her throat. "And it's something we will discuss later, once I am certain of your intentions. But for now, I'm sure you're in desperate need of some actual satisfaction; I can't imagine the witcher is much good for that."

Philippa held out her hand in offering, and although there was a part of Triss who wanted to tell her to shove it because she couldn't just push her away with one hand and beckon with the other, at the end of the day, Triss had missed her. And it was so terribly, terribly annoying, because it only furthered Philippa's belief that she could always get her way.

Triss took her hand anyway.

"Just because you've lost your taste for men, Philippa, does not mean the rest of us have," Triss reminded her, feeling a little offended on Geralt's behalf. No, he was not the best she had ever had, but he certainly was not the worst either.

Philippa smirked as she began to lead her to bed. "I wasn't talking about him being a man. I was talking about how he screams 'bend me over' and you, despite your many talents in the bedroom, do not have it in you to do such a thing. Not a very compatible match, if you ask me."

Triss nearly choked on her own breath. "Geralt—he… that is not—" The rest of her words fell away to nothing as Philippa pushed her unceremoniously onto the mattress, causing Triss to exhale a soft oof.

"I suppose that was why he liked her though," Philippa mused as she placed her hands on the edge of the mattress, beginning to crawl over to her lover. Triss watched her, her lips parting in anticipation as the angle gave her a fantastic view of the sorceress' ample cleavage. "Yennefer certainly seemed the type to strap one on, didn't she? You've no doubt pleasured yourself to the thought, I'm sure; desperately wishing that she would've done the same to you at least once."

Philippa laughed while Triss' face fell into one of upset. Why did she always have to do this? It wasn't funny, and the last thing Triss wanted to think about while she was in bed with Philippa was Yennefer. That didn't seem fair to either of them, yet it was as though Philippa purposely kept pushing her buttons because—

Oh.

"You are jealous."

The realization hit Triss like a sack of bricks, slacking her jaw as she stared at the woman who was now hovering above her. Philippa did look momentarily startled by the accusation, but her mask was easily replaced. She brushed it off. "Don't be ridiculous. There's no gain in competing with a dead woman."

Triss' heart dropped at those words, and suddenly Philippa was shoved off of her. The older woman sighed, as though Triss' constant desire to have emotions was taxing to her.

But before Philippa could say anything, there was a small crash behind the screen on the opposite side of the room. The sound nearly made Triss jump out of her skin as she turned to face the sound, but Philippa just exhaled a frustrated breath. "Cynthia! I told you never to interrupt me when I have guests!" She got off the bed then, crossing the room towards the sound. "What is it that you've broken now?"

A young woman peered out from behind the screen that separated the north side of the small cottage from the rest of the house. She was dressed in very little clothing, and looked incredibly sheepish. "Nothing, Mistress. I apologize for the disruption. I was meditating as you instructed, but a fly landed on my arm. It startled me and I knocked over the candlestick."

Mistress. Triss' stomach tightened as she realized exactly what this young woman was to her on-again off-again lover: a leashed sorceress, someone who was bound by their master in both body, mind, and magic. It was an experience that only a few were offered while they were attending Aretuza, and Philippa was known to be very selective about her pupils. So it wasn't surprising that she had one, not really, but it still didn't sit well with Triss for reasons she would never want to voice out loud.

Philippa did not look amused. "If you were meditating correctly, you would not have felt it. You will do it until you've done it right, because I will not instruct you in Oneiromancy until you've learned to center yourself. If you do not have control over yourself, many things can go wrong."

Cynthia lowered her gaze obediently before disappearing behind the screen, intent on trying again. Triss swallowed, trying to wet her dry throat. It did not help.

Triss chose to clear her throat instead before stupidly stating the obvious. "You… have a new leashed sorceress." She internally winced, realizing a little too late how that sounded.

Philippa, hearing the strange tone in her lover's voice, rose her eyebrows in expectation. "I do," she confirmed. Triss averted her eyes and picked absentmindedly at her clothing.

"And... do you…?"

Triss knew what she was asking, yet hated that she even had to; hated that she cared. She knew it was ridiculous, considering that she spent most of her time yearning for another. Philippa, it seemed, knew exactly what she was asking without elaboration though. She suddenly looked very amused.

"You accuse me of jealousy, yet look at you now," she started with a soft laugh. Crossing the room, Philippa sat back down on the edge of her bed, peering up at the woman who stood over her. "You're asking if I'm training her how I trained you, are you not?"

Triss rolled her eyes defensively, but her mind did flash back to all the times Philippa taught her obedience when she was her leashed sorceress. It was a very long time ago, and yet still, not nearly long enough. "Never mind. It's not my business."

"You're right," Philippa told her simply. "It is not."

Ouch.

That hurt more than Triss thought it would, but she tried to keep her expression impassive. She didn't want Philippa to realize how interwoven she was with her, when she couldn't even give the woman her emotional loyalty. The whole thing just made Triss feel incredibly foolish, honestly. She shouldn't care.

So why did she?

Philippa, however, seemed neither to notice nor care about Triss' current emotional turmoil; that much was abundantly clear when she held out in her hand in offering again. "Come; I'm growing tired off all this animosity. Let's make better use of our time together."

Triss looked at her like she must have gone mental if she honestly believed that that this was an appropriate time to offer to take her to bed, and she emphatically gestured towards the screen on the opposite side of the room. "I am not going to sleep with you while your pet stands obediently by! What the hell do you take me as?"

"Did you suddenly become modest when I wasn't looking?" Philippa teased, the corners of her lips pulling down into a frown. "How disappointing."

Triss flushed a little, both in shame and anger. No, she hadn't – not really. But something about Cynthia rubbed her the wrong way, and honestly… "It's not just about her. You callously speak of Yen's death, and then act as though I shouldn't be bothered by it—!"

"Triss, stop acting like a child; surely you must know the odds. Yennefer was not just some ordinary citizen; even if she were to have amnesia like the witcher, her return would have been noticed by someone." As Triss exhaled a furious breath, Philippa casually leaned back against her elbows and finished, "Besides, I don't understand why you ache for her return; surely you know what she'll do to you once she finds out that you took advantage of the witcher while he was vulnerable."

"I'm only bedding him so I can find her!" Triss shouted, even though she knew it sounded ridiculous. It was the only plan she had though, and so she held onto the hope regardless. "I thought if I acted like her that he'd remember something and we could find her, but once I realized that wasn't working, I continued to warm his bed with the hope that yes, she'll hear about it, and she'll find me. Yennefer's wrath knows no bounds and although her anger and her hatred would pain me, at least I would know she was alive! At least I would know she was safe!"

Philippa looked at her like she had gone stark mad. "You truly are a masochist, aren't you? You want to fall on your own sword to give Yennefer and the witcher their happily ever after? What is the gain in that?"

"She deserves to be happy," Triss told her softly, even though her stomach tightened in knots at the thought, "…even if it's not with me."

"Ugh. That is a disgusting sentiment."

Triss shot her a look. "Despite what you may think of me, Philippa, I'm not a fool. I know I don't—" But her emotions betrayed her and her voice hitched in the back of her throat. "I know that I don't… have a chance with her." It hurt to admit that out loud, but it was the truth. Triss knew that, even if for a while she had refused to accept it. "Even if she comes back, I know that it's not me that she loves. I've accepted that, but just because she will never be mine doesn't mean I have to stop caring for her or her happiness. I am not that selfish."

"But you should be," Philippa stressed as she sat up straighter on the bed, looking at her like she couldn't make heads or tails of how Triss' mind worked. "You do not owe Yennefer anything. She may have been a good friend to you, but friendship is fleeting anyhow. You claim that despite what I may believe that you are not a fool, but it seems that I'm the one that is right, because sacrificing your happiness for someone else's is just plain foolish."

Triss' chest began to swell up with anger. "Just because you care for no one other than yourself, does not mean that it's wrong for others to have empathy! You look at me, and I can see how much you believe my emotions weaken me. I can see that they exasperate you, and at times even disgust you. But contrary to what you want people to believe, Phil, you aren't exactly devoid of emotions either – you merely learned how to hide them better."

Philippa outright rolled her eyes at that. "You contradicted yourself, darling. Either I care or I do not; choose one."

"You care," Triss decided, angrily staring her down. "You just want the whole world to believe that you don't."

The older woman just lazily looked back at her, feigning boredom as she idly picked at her nails. "Either way, I still would not sacrifice my happiness for someone else's, which was the topic of conversation, if I'm remembering correctly."

Triss scoffed at that, shaking her head. The woman was unbelievable. "And yet here you sit, allowing someone you care very deeply for to run off and look for happiness in all the wrong places because you believe it's the right thing to do, even if it hurts you."

It was Philippa's turn to scoff then, although she did look a little more unbalanced than she did before. "If you honestly believe your silly infatuation with Yennefer hurts me, you do not know me as well as you thought," she responded, managing to keep her voice relatively steady. "Regardless, I'm certainly not sacrificing anything for your happiness, Triss, because you and I both know that you are not happy."

"Yeah?" Triss shot back angrily. "Well neither are you."

For the first time in this conversation, it seemed as though words failed Philippa. It didn't matter though, because Triss was finished. She couldn't stay there and continue to argue with her, and she certainly couldn't keep implying that Philippa should care more, or even try to fight for her affections, because that just wasn't… it wasn't fair. Triss had only been trying to make a point about Philippa's supposed lack of empathy, but it had turned into something she should have never started, because she didn't want to hurt Philippa any more than she already had. She deserved better than that, better than her.

But then again, maybe everyone did.

TBC…