owlhart

[owlhart]

Title: here we are once again

Summery: “Hello, Triss." 

Perhaps it had been the adrenaline still coursing through her veins after dealing with the guards, or maybe it was her own blasted ears playing tricks on her; either way, Triss could have sworn there was a hint of emotion seeping into Philippa’s voice. Exhaustion causing words to crack and rumble as they slithered up her throat and passed her lips. Bared shoulders holding themselves up by sheer stubbornness alone, Philippa’s ingrained sense of control wared down to its last defence. 

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#merihart #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #philippa x triss #philippa eilhart x triss merigold #the witcher

[owlhart]

Omg prompts? 🥺 How about Triss convincing a very tired Pippa to let her braid her hair so she can relax for once and phil gets all sleepy in her lap or something idkajsjsjdj

Here you go! I loved writing this and if anyone wants to leave me more prompts they are more than welcome😌

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here, let me,” Triss says sliding her arm around the other woman’s shoulders to reach her hand.

Philippa resists a bit, her grip on the brush is strong and for a second it looks like she won’t let it go. After a bit she relases the handle with a snort, still remaining stiff in her position.

The reason of her behavior is clear to Triss. Philippa had always been reluctant to accept any form of help and, after losing her eyes, she had started to refuse it even more adamantly than before.

Being powerless is its own type of pain, the younger sorceress knows it well, it's different from an phisical wound, more intimate and difficult to face.

For a woman like Philippa Eilhart, used to have the world in her hands, not being able to do basic things like braiding her hair without the aid of her magical blindfold must be terrible.

The brush slides against the damp, dark hair without meeting any knots. Triss’s nails scrap lightly against Philippa’s scalp as she parts it and starts braiding.

The younger mage's movements are deliberately slow to avoid tugging on the hair and hurting her but also to make the process a bit more enjoyable.

Philippa’s body is still rigid but as time goes by she starts to relax, her shoulders dropping slightly as she leans back a little. Triss hums softly a ballad as she works. She doesn’t remember the words of it, only the melody, but Philippa seems to appreciate it so it’s enough.

It’s not long before she has finished braiding the hair.

Triss considers for a second to remain close to her lover but she decides against it. Philippa didn’t seem very chatty or in need of company earlier, she rarely is lately, so it might be better to leave her alone.

As she moves to get up something stops her, the older sorceress has grabbed her by the wrist and doesn’t seem intentioned to let her go.

Without saying anything she lets her hand slide on Triss’s arm, goosebumps appear on her skin where Philippa’s cold fingers are trailing while she pulls her closer.

Triss presses herself against Philippa’s back once again and she lets her arms wrap around her waist, resting her head on her shoulder as she breathes in the scent of her skin.

It’s not very strong and it’s almost suffocated by the one of the oils she used for her hair but it’s there. A warm cinnamon scent that has been a constant in Triss’s life since the day they met.

The older sorceress slides back a little more, her hands holding Triss’s as her breathing starts to slow down and her head drops slightly.

Philippa allowing herself a moment of softness it’s a thing that rarely happens and Triss is determined to treasure it, everything else can wait after all.

#merihart #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #philippa x triss #the witcher #philippa eilhart x triss merigold

[owlhart]

Hell Fucking yeah! Having triss between her thighs dying to please her while sheala choking and locking her arms in an iron grip. Triss is now obeying sheala. So if Sheala decided to deny Philippa of any orgasms then triss will absolutely comply. Philippa felt a little bit betrayed

Triss thought she’d found the perfect dynamic with Philippa and Sheala. They’re just the right mix of sadistic and indulgent, they make Triss feel valued, and the things they can do with magic in the bedroom would make Tissaia start banning books on Aretuza.

She was mistaken. THIS is perfect. They’ve had threesomes before, but they’ve always involved Triss in the more submissive position with Sheala and Philippa making her see stars. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine this.

Philippa is in Sheala’s lap. She is completely naked, while Sheala is still fully dressed, and Sheala has pinned Philippa’s arms to her sides with one arm wrapped tightly around her rib cage. The other is slung across her chest, Sheala’s hand around Philippa’s throat just tight enough to turn her face a bit red. Triss is knelt in front of them, caressing Philippa’s clit with her tongue. Her chin is covered with her arousal, Philippa’s heels pressing against her back her enough to bruise as if that will make Triss go any faster. And normally it would. Normally Philippa would have her by her hair and Triss would be eating her cunt like it was her last meal, probably with Sheala inside of her.

Philippa is not in charge right now. Philippa is trapped in place, thighs quivering as she gets closer and closer to the edge. It must be the fourth time since they’ve started, Sheala insisting on denying her, and Triss thinks Philippa has never been more beautiful than right now, with her eyes rolled back and her teeth digging into her bottom lip, barely muffling her moans of frustration.

“Slower, Triss. This one needs to learn patience. In bed, in politics, it’s a wonder she hasn’t gotten herself killed.”

Triss is more than happy to oblige. She’s noticed Philippa getting a bit twitchy lately, and if some bizarre stunt of hers not coming to fruition fast enough is the cause, then this really is just what the doctor ordered.

“I do not need to-For fucks sake. Triss, get me off or I swear-“ Philippa’s threat cuts off rather abruptly as Sheala’s fingers tighten around her windpipe. Philippa tries to reach up to claw her hand away, but she’s stuck. Sheala smirks, winking at Triss before pressing a mocking kiss to Philippa’s cheek.

“This is exactly the sort of behavior I’m talking about, dear. Just for that, I think we ought to keep going another hour at least.”

#nsfw #philippa eilhart #Triss Merigold #merihart #sheala de tancarville #philippa x triss #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #the witcher #philippa not being the dominant one for once is very hot in a way

[owlhart]

Anatomy of the Soul

Based on this lovely post.

********

There is an air of distraction around Triss. Philippa doesn’t know how she knows this, but she has always been able to discern when something is truly eating away at the younger sorceress. And so, she stands up slowly, cracking her neck in an elaborate show before offering casually, “I need some air.”

Triss nods and follows her almost absently.

They take a stroll through the gardens, with Triss stewing in her own thoughts and Philippa content to give her some space to gather her wits about her.

They slow to a snail’s pace halfway around the lake. Philippa gazes across the crystalline waters shimmering under the orange glow of the sunset, a soft smile playing at the corners of her lips. It is then Triss turns to her, the shadows thrown across her face highlighting the slight pinch of her brow and the nervousness creasing around her eyes.

“Philippa?”

“Hm?”

There is a slight pause before Triss lets out a nervous laugh.

“It’s silly. Nevermind.”

“There is obviously something weighing on your mind and clearly it matters to you.”

The chestnut lets out a small puff of her cheeks and Philippa waits patiently for Triss to continue.

“I feel too much,” she finally confesses softly. “I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“Feelings aren’t necessarily explicable,” Philippa replied, “and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know, it’s just...here is anxiety,” a hand moves to rub at the base of her throat, the steady heartbeat pulsing against her fingertips, before it drifts down to her chest, “and insecurity.” Another pause. “And here, anger and injustice fester in my lungs, helplessness and sadness reside in my breastbone.”

Her hand clenches around the fabric of her shirt unconsciously as Triss bites her lip and blurts out, “And here...and here, by Melitele, I love you with all my heart.”

Philippa’s eyes flicker up to meet Triss’. Triss grows red and resumes  walking. 

“Forget I said anything. It’s just me being silly.”

Triss feels much yet sees so little at the same time. She does not see the determination in her cornflower blue eyes or the weight of duty delicately poised on steadfast shoulders; she knows not the strength she holds in her hands or the graceful courage that steels her spine; she gives herself no credit for the loyalty and kindness that runs through her veins.

They bump shoulders and Philippa slowly speaks up even though her gaze is fixated on her castle.

“I feel it everywhere.” She hears Triss inhale sharply. “It’s like a flash fire when I see you for the first time after a while. And when we’re apart, it’s a searing burn slowly spidering out along my ribs. Sometimes, it’s a radiating warmth when I see something that reminds me of you. And sometimes, it’s an all-consuming flame when all I can think about is you. It’s anywhere and everywhere. All the time.”

Triss smiles so brilliantly, so gently that Philippa’s heart almost skips a beat.

“All the time.”

#merihart #philippa x triss #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #philippa eilhart #Triss Merigold #the witcher

[owlhart]

Once triss tried to invert their roles and top philippa. And because Philippa is basically smitten by triss she said yes. Anyway once triss straddled Philippa and “pinned” her hands above her head, Philippa ruined the mood by mockingly saying: oooh I cant move ooooh I’m terrified now

Triss really is trying to help.

Philippa always makes her feel so good. And she works so hard. So maybe it would be good for her, to relax and let Triss take care of her.

That was the thought, anyway.

The thing is, Philippa is not really the most submissive woman on the planet. She’s fine letting Triss sit on top of her, because the view of her chest from down here is just lovely, but it takes all her willpower not to start laughing when Triss actually attempts to restrain her.

Part of the problem is that she’s entirely too adorable to take seriously. The other issue is that she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body, and she’s so gentle with Philippa, like she thinks she’s made of glass or something, and while it’s kind of sweet it also makes it way too easy for Philippa to tease her a little. Either she’ll fold like a cheap deck of cards and Philippa can fuck her senseless, or that fiery side of her that Philippa loves so much will come out for a bit. She wins either way.

“Do you have any plan for what you’re going to do with me, darling? You’ve been staring for quite some time.” Philippa readjusts her hands, and Triss seems a bit annoyed that she’d move them in the first place, but that’s her fault for just expecting Philippa to obey her without question. “If you want to play at being a top, I’d be happy to teach you, but we really should get someone like Rita for you to practice on.”

“I don’t want to be a top! I just thought...Ugh.”

Oh, she is precious when she’s pouting. “You just thought what, Triss? That even though you cry when Tissaia looks cross in your general direction, you’d enjoy whipping me?” She doesn’t see any type of toy like that laying around, but the blush on Triss’s face is cute anyway.

“I thought it would help you stop thinking about work for ten seconds? I don’t know!”

See, this is what she adores about Triss. She, like everyone else in this world, has an ulterior motive for everything she does. But hers are always...nice. Without fail. She’s either an angel, or the greatest actress Philippa has ever seen. It’s intriguing either way.

“Mmm. See, I’m not thinking about work because I’m in your presence and therefore I’m thinking about those pretty little noises you make when I’m inside of you. So congratulations. Mission accomplished.”

Triss gives up on any attempt to hold her hands in place, swatting at her shoulder in clear reproach. “You’re terrible!”

Philippa smirks. That may be the case, but Triss is still smiling. That means she can’t be all that bad. “Oh, darling, you have no idea. But I’d be happy to show you, if you want to be a good girl and take your clothes off for me. I’m more than capable of planning my own distractions, if you’re so worried about my stress levels.”

She’d say it’s rather difficult to be stressed when one has a beautiful woman beneath them. It’s a very simple formula, but she will stop applying it when it stops working.

“Fine. I can do that. Just-Does that mean I can take all this off? Because I don’t know how you breathe in this much leather. It’s very...constricting. And sticky.”

“Take all of it off, and then kneel in front of the bed. While this little attempt at insubordination was cute, girls who forget their place deserve to be punished.” Triss nods eagerly, wriggling her way out of the corset she’d laced herself into for the occasion. It did look very pretty on her, but this is better. “Oh, and Triss?”

Triss freezes. Must be the force of habit. She’s staring at Philippa like her next words might cure a fucking plague, and the urge to kiss her is...irritatingly strong.

“Thank you. But if you tell anyone my reaction to this little attempt was in any way positive then I will make sure you cannot sit down for a week.”

#merihart #philippa eilhart #Triss Merigold #philippa x triss #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #the witcher

[owlhart]

since you're so involved with fandom and probably know the ropes, could you please compile a post of your favourite/good Triss/Philippa and Yen/Triss fanfictions you enjoy? 😭 I'm starved for Triss content

Hi! first of all, lol at me being involved I really jumped to the deepest pit of the hole every time. Second, I would like to apologise but I don’t like Yen/Triss so I won’t be helpful in this. 

However, for Triss/Philippa I AM CRAZY ABOUT THEM so here we go.

Multichaptered + Finished:

1. Bound  by SapphireSmoke

This is a fic that I reread every two weeks or so because that’s how amazing it is.

2.  La Douleur Exquise by SapphireSmoke

Again this is also things i reread every now and then. truly amazing works and just like bound it really covers the differences between Triss and Phil and what makes their relationship could be really difficult despite both of them actually loving each other a lot.

Seriously I need to use this post as a thank you note for  SappireSmoke (in here @cissatrix) for making Godly contents for these two.

Multichaptered + ongoing:

1.  bowline by undermyskin

The details here are just chef kiss, if you’re fan of a book (like I am) and in love with those excerpts from literatures that he does (like I am) you would dig this. It really feel like you’re reading sapkowski works.

2.  A Reasonable Proposal by costcopizza

This one mix the Netflix adaptation with booklore, which makes it really really good. It details Sodden, how Triss was perceived to be dead. If you love hurt/comfort this is the winner-winner chicken dinner.

One-shots! [some of the authors here make more than one OS so if they’re one of those I’d just put a link where you can find them... Because really every single thing is worth checking out!]

1. Every single one-shots from scredgirl 

I love how the works are just in a perfect amount, not too short but not too long, This makes amazing impact because every single scene feels like it matters more. [the author also creates philxtriss visual artworks to die for so I really really recommend you to check @scredgirl​ tumblr]

2. @corvo-bianco-lilacs​ one shots! 

These could be either sad/angsty or really sweet or both which is something you don’t see a lot for them. but anyway you can find these works on tumblr  or if you’re feeling thirsty head to the delicious Smut Prompt Fills

3.  You Can't Stop The Water (From Pulling You Under) by I_Am_Titanium

this is one of those long one shot which have everything: good amount of angst, sweet moments, a lot of sex (as it’s basically pwp which ended up not to be pwp aka now it’s better!), and some funny scenes as well. It’s basically goodness mixed in one written by @sorceressesruntheworld

Allright! so these are my recs! feel free to use this post and add more into it so we can find more works of these pairings! keep in mind I only check AO3 and tumblr so there might be more works in another sites! (also if you’re one of the authors mentioned in this fic and I have not referred to your blog please do let me know because you’re all amazing and we need to cherish :) )

#merihart #philippa x triss #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #philippa eilhart #Triss Merigold #the witcher

[owlhart]

@scredgirl replied to your post “@scredgirl replied to your post “*whispers* i have The Urge to attempt…”

i’m Very Bad at prompts but. hmmmm what about Phil calling for a Lodge meeting but only one person shows up because she was an asshole last meeting and they don’t want to see her. Either Triss or Sile your pick

I went for Triss/Phil. It’s not very long but I hope you like it!! 

Philippa was pacing. 

The megascope was active, both of them had checked it several times to be quite sure everything was functioning correctly (it was), but they were the only ones present at The Lodge meeting, either physically or magically.  

Triss was sitting idly doodling on a piece of spare parchment that was sitting in front of her. Philippa’s notes were arranged in a stack beside her and she had stolen a blank sheet from the top to occupy herself with while they waited. 

One minute had stretched to five, had stretched to ten, had stretched to twenty. At around seven, Phil had pushed herself out of her chair and begun pacing in terse circles, fists clenched and jaw set. 

The other members of The Lodge were late. Very late, by this point. Philippa disapproved of lateness. Unless of course, she was the one who was late. The extreme tardiness of their fellow sorceresses, without any excuse or apology, was evidently grating on her lover’s sensitive nerves. No-one had ever accused Philippa of being the most patient woman in the world.  

After a further five minutes of irritable pacing, by which time her fingertips had begun smoking slightly in response to the fire that was no doubt curling beneath her closed fist, Triss set down her pen and swivelled in her chair to face her partner.  

“What has that carpet ever done to you?” she asked conversationally, propping her chin on a elbow which she rested on the back of her plush, ornate chair.  

“What?” Philippa demanded, halting for the first time since she had begun to face Triss, a distinct snap in her voice. 

Triss raised her eyebrows until Phil’s expression softened slightly. Then she said, “You’re going to wear a hole through it if you keep that up, and it doesn’t deserve that.” 

Philippa frowned, an expression that was entirely endearing, as far as Triss was concerned, though it was typically a herald of an imminent and unpleasant death for everyone else.  

“I’ll repair it,” she ground out, finally. 

Triss laughed and stretched towards her, taking her hand and pulling her closer. “That’s not what I meant,” she murmured quietly, a small smile on her lips. Philippa resisted her attempts to draw her down for a gentle, soothing kiss, however, too tense and on edge.  

“I know,” Philippa replied irritably, straightening again, though she did not pull her hand from Triss’s. “They’re late,” she said, spitting out the word as though she’d swallowed it with a mouthful of grit. Her foot began tapping on the floor, apparently to compensate for her lack of pacing. 

“Well,” Triss said, concealing her small smile with difficulty, “That depends.” 

The irritated crease between Philippa’s brows deepened. “The meeting was due to start over twenty minutes ago, Triss. They aren’t here. What do you call that, if not late?” 

“I think they can only be late if they actually intended on coming,” Triss explained mildly. 

Philippa blinked. 

Triss sighed and rubbed her temple, “You were a little….Intense,” she said delicately, after a pregnant pause in which she searched for the right word, “During our last meeting.” 

Philippa frowned again, but this time the expression was one of confusion, rather than frustration. She genuinely didn’t seem to see what the problem was. 

“There was some shouting,” Triss continued in a measured voice, “A lot of cursing. Some threats, some very inventive ones at that,” she added, not suppressing her grin this time. “And a few fireballs.” 

Philippa considered that. “They were only small,” she said, but with a grudging tone that acknowledged Triss might have a point. “And they didn’t hit anything vital.” 

“I was fond of that vase,” Triss said, grinning again. 

Philippa snorted. “I imagine Sabrina was more fond of her head.” 

“I imagine Rita preferred the vase.”  

That, at last, drew a small smile out of Philippa, and at last she seemed to concede defeat. Flopping down resignedly into the chair beside Triss she squinted over at her, expression caught between anger and dejection. “So, no-one is coming,” she huffed.  

“I came,” Triss said, hopefully. 

Philippa scowled at her. “You came here with me,” she grumbled. 

“I still came,” she said, pulling her chair closer and tipping Philippa’s head up by sliding a finger under her chin and coaxing gently. 

“I suppose you did at that,” Phil conceded. 

Her voice softened in tone, becoming the voice that only Triss ever heard from her when they were alone together. Philippa moved in closer, tugging her up out of her chair, to which Triss complied gladly. Philippa’s lips met hers, gentle but somehow hot and insistent all at once. She flipped them deftly, pressing Triss back against the carved wooden table The Lodge typically met around. 

“I suppose I should thank you for your dedication, Miss Merigold,” she purred softly. Smiling, Triss draped her arms around Philippa’s neck and leaned backwards, submitting gladly to this request. 

****

send me Phil prompts please!!

#merihart #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #philippa x triss #philippa eilhart #Triss Merigold #the witcher

[owlhart]

Could you do Triss seeing Philippa for the first time after she's lost her eyes? Bonus for maximum hurt comfort feels!!

I have no idea what I’m doing or how to explain the AU (something along the vague lines of book!canon, except that Philippa doesn’t die from her torture, she loses her eyes but escapes) that is taking place in my head to contrive to make this a thing but this is small and contextless enough that it probably doesn’t matter. WIRE IN. 

(Correct me if I’ wrong, but I think @snarkomancy gets credit for the headcanon of Phil letting herself fall off of Very High Things, and shifting into her owl form halfway through. Which I adore and unashamedly stole for this thing) 

*****

The wind runs its gentle fingers through her unbound hair. It floats around her face, wild and free, so at odds with the rest of her body, rigid and still as a marble statue. And as pale. 

Her long imprisonment in darkness, with only the odd candle flame to cast light upon her has left her looking like half a corpse. The fingers that curl over the arms of the large wooden rocking chair that cradles her slight, wasted frame, are painfully thin and brittle looking. Like bone scraped free of flesh, left bare and fragile. Vulnerable. 

It’s been almost two days, 43 hours and twenty minutes, by her reckoning, since she found freedom from that place. 

She had been there so long she forgets how much time she spent there. Kingdoms could have risen, and fallen, ages come and gone in that empty blackness, and she would never have known.

 At the beginning, she had tried to count. Making small scratches on the walls with a small stone or nail she found in her cell, she had kept track of the passing of the days, relying on the infrequent, inadequate meals she was brought to stop her starving to mark the passage of time.

Then they had taken her eyes from her, and she had no longer been able to see the rows of little white lines, stacked like soldiers upon the wall. She had found them again, with broken, trembling fingers, and she had continued her count for a time, determined not to let them take her sanity as well. 

In the end, she had stopped. In the end it didn’t matter to her how long she had been there. She stopped counting the days, when she stopped counting on any thought of rescue, or escape. She would die in that place, she had been sure. How many days she had survived, how many she had left, no longer mattered. That truth was the only one she had had, and it had festered inside her, turned on her, and carved the heart and hope from her. 

Yet she had not died. 

By some miracle, she had escaped the confines of her cell. The details of how it had come about were still hazy, at best. Her imprisonment and the treatment she had received from her captors had left her raw and half-crazed with pain and the terror of further suffering. 

They had led her into sunlight once more. The first touch of it on her delicate skin had felt like a brand, but slowly, she had come to love it, to hunger for it, the constant reminder that she was alive. 

She had begun counting again, once she had regained her wits. The count of borrowed time, time she should not have had, breaths she should never have tasted, beats of her heart that should never have sounded. But did. She had done little else since she had been freed. She needed time to heal, they had told her. And so she had counted as that time had passed, not sure what else to do with herself. 

Yennefer had found her, broken and near death, and she had brought her here. The very last place that anyone might think to look for her, if her captors had any designs on reclaiming their lost toy. So far, she had been right. The tranquil peace of Kaer Morhen had not been disturbed since she had arrived here. For that she was thankful. 

Before, she had not been able to abide silence. She had sought out sound, found ways to fill her quiet chambers with it on the rare occasions she was alone and at rest. It had unnerved her, that silence, made her feel as though she had settled into a dangerous calm that would precede the storm. It had made her restless and irritable. 

Now…Now she welcomed it. Every sound, however small or innocent, made her flinch, her body tensing, her instincts screaming and shoving her back into that dark cell once more, convincing her that she was about to endure their agonies once again. 

It took all of her strength to keep her control in those moments, to leash the dark swell of magic that pressed beneath her skin. After so long bound in chains of demetirium, the magic in her blood was a lethal thing, roiling inside her, howling for escape. It took no small amount of self-control to refuse to let it run wild as it wished, to burst from her like a dam and break over the world that had dared to keep it caged all those months. 

She had lasted all of an hour in the soft, clean bed she had woken in. People had been flapping around her, insisting that she rest, that she needed to heal, that she shouldn’t be straining herself. As though walking twelve feet from the bed to the balcony would kill her, when months of daily torture had failed. 

Yennefer had frowned and chastised her and attempted to draw her back inside the first few times she’d found her in the great carved rocking chair beyond her chambers. But Geralt…Geralt had seemed to understand. She had felt his eyes on her for a long moment, silent in the face of Yennefer’s concerned, ceaseless flow of words. Then, with a quiet murmur in her ear, he had drawn Yennefer away, and she was left alone with her silence and her calm mountain breezes. 

Since then, she had barely left this chair, and refused to step inside for longer than a few minutes at a time. The stillness of the air, the way it deadened, the way it pressed against her skin like an oppressive shroud, the moment she was surrounded by four walls again, terrified her.  

Before, if anyone, or anything, including her own mind, had tried to inform her she was terrified of anything, she would have laughed. Now she had no other word for the crippling panic that chased up her nerves like lightning, or the cold dread that coiled in her stomach like the hand of death, whenever she was enclosed. 

Without her eyes to ground on the bright furnishings and simple domesticity of her surroundings, with only the darkness to pair with the horrifying stillness of a room, her mind cast her back into that cell and refused to let her leave. Only the soft kiss of the wind against her cheek, the light fragrance of the open air, and the sense of inexplicable calm that came with wide, untainted spaces could calm her. 

She could not, would not remain inside. Not for a long time. 

Sometimes, even the gentle, now familiar confines of her rocking chair were too much for her to bear. It was then that she longed to clamber onto the wooden rail surrounding the balcony, spread her arms wide, and allow herself to fall into open space. Only to snatch herself from the looming jaws of death by transforming mid-fall, and soaring into the waiting heavens. 

She longed for that freedom, that escape, that thing that would cleanse the last dark shadows of that cell crawling over her soul. But not yet. She was not strong enough for that, yet. Her battered body had to heal, her magic stabilise, her hands stop shaking for more than a heartbeat. 

Rolling her shoulders, Philippa turned her head slightly, listening to the footsteps padding towards her. She was getting better at identifying the owners of the patterns of sound that played over the wooden boards in the bedroom behind her. The light, rhythmic steps reminiscent of a dancer belonged to Yennefer, she was almost certain. 

Sure enough, a moment later, the younger sorceresses voice broke the quiet of the afternoon, “Philippa.” She nodded in silent invitation for her to continue. 

Yennefer stepped out onto the balcony proper and spoke with that voice she had adopted since Phil’s escape. The one she despised so much. The soft, gentle one, the one that was lowered, as though in fear that a louder, or harsher tone might bruise. 

“There’s someone here to see you,” she says, tone unreadable. 

Philippa frowns, her own voice a rasp when she answers, “You let them enter?” 

“She wouldn’t wait,” Yennefer replies, tone still steady and controlled. 

Phil sighs, massaging her temples and bowing her head slightly, “Tell Rita that whatever she wants to discuss with me can wait until I’m not half-dead,” she bites out irritably. 

There’s a distinct smile in Yen’s voice when she says, “”It’s not Rita. It’s-” 

But she never finishes her sentence. A distant grunt she identifies as Geralt’s, the rush and patter of a new set of footsteps she hasn’t yet committed to memory, and the cracked, hoarsely whispered gasp interrupt her. 

“Pippa?” 

Philippa goes still at the sound of that voice, that name, at the presence of the one person in the world who would call her that. Her mouth goes dry, and she clenches the arms of her chair so tightly it hurts, trying, and failing, to stop her hands from shaking. 

She opens her mouth. Her lips soundlessly form the name, but no sound escapes her, only a dry rasp. She tries again without any more success, but it doesn’t matter. The owner of that voice is running for her, choking on a faint sob, and Philippa barely has a moment to brace herself before the soft, warm body hurtles into her own. 

A moment later, she’s sliding from the chair and down onto her knees, the other woman’s arms tight around her, as though she never means to let her go again. Her thin, brittle fingers stroke tremulously through the thick, sleek hair. She buries her face against it, the ruins of her eyes hidden by the thick, chestnut mop she knows so well. 

“I thought you were dead,” Triss gasps, her whole body shaking, her mouth pressed clumsily against Philippa’s neck. Another shudder wracks her, and she grips onto her all the tighter, choking out the words again, “I thought you were dead.”  

She had thought the same. Had thought that Triss had no doubt died too. Some nights she had hoped for it, hoped that she was at peace, gone where the hot irons and rough hands could never touch her. Now, now… 

“I’m-” the word ‘fine’ which she had meant to press into her partner’s soft, sweet-smelling hair stuck in her throat, the lie gagging her. Instead, she swallows, and nuzzles in closer to her, breathing in the rich, familiar scent of her perfume, unchanged even after all this time, finding an odd sense of comfort and strength from it. 

She tries again, “I’m here.” 

The words are brittle and raw, but it’s all she has to offer her. She isn’t fine. She might not yet even be healing. She’s battered, and broken, and plagued with a darkness she isn’t sure will ever lighten to reveal the woman she once was. But she is here. Is holding her again. Is speaking to her again. Is home again. 

She could never say how long they sat there, knees curled beneath them on the rough, hard floor, until they’d gone quite numb. They had held each other through it all, not saying a thing, not making any sound, only clinging tightly, so tightly. As though each feared they might lose they other, and never find them again, if they let go for so much as a moment. 

Finally, when the sun has risen from its shy dawn perch just above the mountain tops to sit high and proud in the centre of the sky, its heat truly warming her for the first time, Triss draws away. 

Philippa opens her mouth to protest, and finds them smothered by the press of Triss’ warm, soft lips against hers. The kiss is tender and soft, filled with all of the words that neither of them had been able to say before they had been parted, and it strikes Philippa Eilhart truly speechless, for what may well be the first time in her life. 

Then, she laughs. The action startles Triss, it startles her as well, if truth be told. The laughter is a hoarse, brittle rasp, ragged and broken in half a hundred places. But she hadn’t known there was any laughter in her any more, had thought it had all been drained of her, and was a sound that would never make it past her cracked lips again. 

The feel of it, the exhilaration of it, has her laughing all the harder, until every bone in her body seems to ache from it. Then Triss is laughing too, hesitantly at first, then stronger, louder, until the tears are streaming down her face, and the smile that tugs across it seems unlikely ever to leave. 

She leans forwards again, kissing her once more, and Philippa lets herself indulge in it, lets herself enjoy it, as she kisses her back at long last. 

And this, Philippa thinks, as she sinks into Triss’ arms once more…This is better than flying. 

#merihart #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #philippa x triss #philippa eilhart #Triss Merigold #the witcher

[owlhart]

"It's been too long since you've really smiled" with Cersei and whomever you prefer (maaayyyyybe Taena???? Not that I'm partial to this ship or anything) OR "The phone calls aren't the same..." With Merihart? 😩

Okay u can have both (I promise) but the Cersei/Taena isn’t working for me atm for some reason, so have the Merihart now to tide u over, and then Cersei/Taena later. Because we all know I cannot resist any femslash of any kind.

 I tweaked the merihart prompt slightly to make it canon compliant rather than modern au, so we’re having megascopes instead of mobiles. 

“What’s wrong, Pippa?” Triss asks quietly, the words catching in her throat.

The holographic projection of her partner looks drawn, and haggard. They’ve been communicating this way for weeks now, with Philippa off doing….Whatever it is she’s doing. Triss hasn’t asked too many questions, has been afraid to, in truth. She’d rather not know. 

She had decided to accept Philippa, in all her flaws, and all her shortcomings, long ago. There was nothing Triss could do to change her, and truth be told, she didn’t want to. She loved her as she was, for who she was.

 She just didn’t always want the details of the schemes Phil was working on to topple kingdoms. 

Dark, depthless eyes meet hers, and for the first time, Triss feels a trickle of fear tremble down her spine. It hasn’t been like this for years. Phil has always made her feel safe, sheltered, protected, loved, and now…

The past few communications have been tense, and strained. She had assumed that it was due to the pressures of whatever Philippa was trying to achieve…Wherever she was. It struck her then that she didn’t even know. That too sent a burst of panic through her, in spite of her attempts to control it. 

“These communications aren’t the same anymore, Phil…” she breathed softly, letting her voice trail away, inviting her to fill the void left by her silence. 

She doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to draw attention to it. She wants to leave it in the darkness, where it can remain hidden, where she can pretend that it’s not real, that it’s not happening. She doesn’t want to drag it into the light and force herself to confront it. But she’s not sure she can stand this much longer. 

Philippa is quiet for a long time, fiddling absently with something twined between her fingers that Triss can’t see. “You’re correct,” she says, finally, without looking at her.  

Her heart stops in her chest. 

“Pippa,” she whispers hoarsely. 

She had stopped calling her that, trying to make the conversation colder, more businesslike. But it slips out again as her desperation winds itself up to a peak. She can feel her slipping away, like smoke between her fingers. And in an agonising heartbeat, she’s desperate not to lose her, whatever it takes. 

“I’m sorry, Triss,” she says, still not looking at her, and not sounding particularly sorry at all. “But I believe this…has run its course.” 

“No,” she whispers. She hadn’t meant to say it, hadn’t mean to allow the word to escape the lips clamped tightly shut to try and hold back the flood of tears building in her chest. 

“I’m sure I will still think of you fondly,” Philippa continues, her voice clinical, and cold, apparently utterly unaware, or simply indifferent, to the fact that Triss feels her entire world collapsing before her, and can do nothing to stop it. “But for now-” 

“What are you doing?” Triss rasps, finally managing to force words out past the tight knot of her throat. Anger is rising now, coming to her defence as her hands ball themselves into fists and she starts trembling with the effort of keeping it contained. “What are you saying, Philippa.” 

This time, Philippa has the grace to look her in the eyes as she says, almost gently, “You know.” 

She does. And she hates herself for it. 

She had let herself fall in love with this woman, had let herself be lured in to a relationship with her, had given her everything, would have done anything for her. And she had convinced herself, in all her naive foolishness, that she might actually feel the same way. That she was actually capable of feeling anything at all. And now…Now…

She doesn’t know who she’s more angry with: Philippa, for doing this to her. Or herself. For letting her. For never learning the lesson this world has been trying to teach her over and over again for years. 

She wants to scream at her. She wants to rage. She wants to hurl filthy insults and horrific accusations at her. She wants to make her feel something, she wants to make her hurt, she wants to shatter that cold, composed mask on the other side and break through to the depth of emotion she knows lies beneath. 

But she can’t. The words won’t come. Her anger remains a coiling, seething mass twisting and roiling inside her…but she can’t let it out, still can’t bring herself to hurt this woman that the soft, tender heart inside her still loves, for all this. 

“Goodbye, Triss,” Philippa says, quietly. For a moment, she could almost swear that there was a strain of emotion in the words. But then she’s gone. 

The words, the sentiment behind them, the termination of the contact between them, almost feels like a kindness. Because it finally unblocks her, and unleashes the rage that’s boiling within her. 

She screams. A long, drawn out sound that echoes through her quiet, empty chambers, cold and bleak without the warmth of Philippa beside her. The glass of wine that had been in her hand is hurled against the wall opposite, and shatters.

 Shards of white crystal and red wine mingle together, like a river of rubies and diamonds, and in the midst of it all, Triss sinks to her knees and sobs. 

**** 

Hundreds of miles away, Philippa Eilhart picks herself up from the cold stone floor of the small, road-side temple she had slipped into to make her final communication to her partner. 

She steps outside again, long, unbound hair dancing in the wind like flames. The obvious pain in Triss’s voice, in her eyes, the way that soft mouth that had been made for kisses, and smiles, and laughter, had trembled when she had said what she had told herself she must say, had nearly broken her. 

She can hear them, now, the hunters that have been tracking her for weeks now, getting closer, and closer every day. She draws on her magic, gathers it inside her, ready. She might have spent the time she had taken contacting Triss to ready her defences, to hide herself, brace herself, save her magic for the fight that’s about to come.

 But she had known then, as she knows now, that it was futile. There are far more of them than there are of her. She is alone out here, friendless, and lost. The only reason she pulls power to her now is because she refuses to be taken quietly, to surrender without a fight, even if it’s already lost. 

The communication had been a final mercy. It had been an act of selfishness on her part, the only assurance for peace of mind she might have in the face of what’s to come.

 And for Triss….For Triss who loved with that whole fierce yet tender heart of hers. Triss who would have gone to the ends of the earth to find her, and gotten herself captured in the process. Triss, who for all her intelligence and talent, so often let her emotions cloud her judgement. For Triss, who would at once have leapt from the safety of their home the moment she heard what was about to happen here, and risked her life to save her, no matter what…

For Triss, the woman she loved, she had told those lies, made their last conversation a broken travesty of what they were. For the sake of keeping her safe. For the unbearable certainty that, had she not acted, Triss would have died. 

For love…Philippa Eilhart had told her lies, and once again become the woman that everyone but Triss had believed her to be.

 For her. 

#merihart #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #philippa x triss #philippa eilhart #Triss Merigold #the witcher

[owlhart]

@maybe-im-shitposting For fic 1 - did you mean this?

Can’t find fic 2 yet. Do you have any more details?

Missing fics post!

We all know Tumblr search engine sucks right? Well that's exactly why I did this post.

I'm searching for two Merihart fics that I saw once upon a time here on Tumblr and I'd love to reread

Description of fic one:

The fic was relatively short and it was about Philippa fleeing from the witch hunters and deciding to use her last energies to call Triss and dump her basically to avoid Triss searching for her and getting captured too.

I vividly remember Triss throwing a glass at the wall.

Description fic number two:

Philippa is rescued after her eyes are gouged out, the other sorceresses (I don't remember wich ones) call Triss so she can help her get better. They see each other, hug and cry. I remember the author saying it was a mixture of book and game canon.

Well this are the two missing children😌 I hope someone will help me find these fics cause I really loved reading them and I'd like to do it again.

#ooc #maybe-im-shitposting

[owlhart]

Writer friends, I discovered a fun website today. It’s called “I Write Like” and here’s the description: Check which famous writer you write like with this statistical analysis tool, which analyzes your word choice and writing style and compares them with those of the famous writers.  Let me know which autor you got! 

#ooc #i have never actually read any of his books lol cuz i can't handle horror

[owlhart]

Thank you @maybe-im-shitposting for tagging me :) I'm actually a new sideblog so I don't really have any fav accounts yet but I recognise the names of my readers and you are all amazing 😭

so even though ive been uber quiet on here recently, im still getting tagged in wonderful things such as this post celebrating the ‘greatest tumblr award’ or in other words people tagging their fav blogs in posts;

i got tagged by @little-piece-of-tamlin @dwintu and @jaskier-has-my-heart whomst i all just adore. seriously you guys are wonderful people running fantastic blogs and i love ya

im tagging just some of my favs and spreading the love back: @a-kind-of-merry-war @not-so-silent-back-up @acciobamon @the-winter-witcher @marvelousmaize @consultingskeletondetective @calling-the-angels @jaskierstark @witchofmorena @dazedandinked @tylerhoech @wanderlust-t @yuna-belikova @jaskier-wearing-dresses @andyet-here-we-are @dinahdarling @sofancydancy @bards-rights-activist @lamberts @valdomarx @resident-beekeeper @tschulijulesjulie @robin-mood @ub-sessed @dechart @disasterboysandtheirgruffloves @flootzavut @gravitational813 @mydarlingwitcher @weakforjaskier 

omg i could keep going but this list got long real fast, anyway i wanted to THANK YOU guys, for being awesome wonderful people and brilliantly talanted blogs, thanks for making my dash look so much better and feel like a version of home <3

#ooc

[owlhart]

Post Traumatic

5 - About You

Philippa’s not quite sure if it is a sneaking realisation slowly creeping up on her over time or a sudden realisation exploding into reality - how she see Triss everywhere, in the blue flowers blooming outside her window and in the chestnut of the girl that passes by her on the street; how she sees Triss in everything she does, in the warmth of the magic as it runs through her veins and in the ink scrawled across the pages laid out on her desk; how she dreams of subtle glances and shy smiles she’s not even sure are just dreams or memories bleeding into her subconscious.

Everything is about Triss and Philippa can’t understand why. 

4 - Nothing Makes Sense Anymore

Her heart asks about Triss - hardly ever aloud but it simmers in her chest and lingers in the back of her mind. And Philippa gets her answers in the form of reports and gossip and meetings and chance encounters; she never asks but she gets her answers one way or the other.

Her heart asks about Triss even if her head knows she won’t act upon it. Philippa sees a lot of herself in Triss - talented, politically astute, loyal, but Triss is young, not in age but in experience, and she is naive in ways only the hopeful can understand, and Philippa loathes the idea that she may be the one to shatter the heart that Triss wears on her sleeve.

Her heart asks about Triss even if her head tells her she can’t act upon it, because control quells any temptation and cold logic dampens any desire. 

But still, her heart asks about Triss again and again, because Triss reminds Philippa of her humanity and at this point, it is the only thing keeping her going.

3 - Watching As I Fall

When she catches Keira staring at her for the hundredth time with an inquisitive expression on her face, Philippa gestures at her impatiently.

“Keira, if there’s something you want to say, do so. I cannot read your mind.”

“Technically-”

“Keira.”

“Fine, fine. You look...” Keira folds her arms and settles back in her chair, searching for the right words. “You look constipated. Emotionally. Whenever you’re around Triss.”

Philippa grimaces at the rather unsavoury description, although perhaps it is the implication of Keira’s observation or the fact that the sentiment was obvious enough for Keira to notice that is so unsettling. And so, she simply feigns indifference.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

But Keira is like a dog with a bone - persistence has always been an admirable trait in her although not a particularly welcome one at the moment - and she leans forward, propping her chin on her palm. She surveys Philippa with narrowed eyes and pursed lips and Philippa can feel her heart hammering in her chest so hard she’s sure Keira can hear it.

The slight softening of Keira’s eyes tells her the younger sorceress has deduced what Philippa is so desperate to hide. What she is trying too hard to bury. 

But Keira shrugs with a knowing smile and stands up to leave, glancing to the side. Philippa follows her gaze and feels the weight lift in her chest as her heart drops to her stomach simultaneously. Triss waves at the both of them and Keira returns the gesture almost lazily. Philippa nods in acknowledgment.

“Don’t overthink it,” Keira says.

Philippa’s not so sure she can.

9 - Make It Up As I Go

Last minute counsel with King Vizimir had prevented her from attending the conclave in person but by the time Philippa connects using her megascope, the conclave has dispersed. Sabrina picks up her transmission and the grim expression on her face tells Philippa all she needs to know.

“Redania will send her armies but it will take a few days to reach Sodden. You will have to hold the keep until reinforcements arrive.”

Sabrina pales.

“There are only a handful of us travelling there. We can’t hold it for long.”

“Who is leading the excursion?”

“Vilgefortz and Tissaia,” Sabrina replies.

“Yennefer has also joined us.”

Philippa starts when Triss appears behind Sabrina but she recovers quickly.

“You’re in good hands then. Although I would feel better if I were there with you.” She straightens up, a hint of steel slipping into her voice. “I will be there with reinforcements soon enough but until then, you’ll be on your own.”

Sabrina nods and moves to terminate the connection when Philippa speaks up.

“Be safe.”

Surprise flickers in Sabrina’s eyes; she knows Philippa well enough to identify the underlying sentiment - worry for her peers, regret for her delay and a promise of rectification; she knows Philippa well enough to decipher the unspoken request for her to look out for the younger sorceress. 

And Sabrina knows Philippa well enough to hear her silent plea to Triss.

Come back to me safe and sound.

Sabrina looks at Triss and nods.

“We will be.”

10 - World’s On Fire

The battlefield is spinning in a blaze of fire and smoke, ash and dust in the air, the cacophony of screams and clash of metal ringing in her ears. The skies are painted a flickering orange and Philippa spots the platoon marching towards the front gate of the keep under the burning skies. 

She vaguely recalls that Sabrina and Yennefer are holding the keep and for the briefest of moments, she wonders where Triss is stationed. She dismisses the thought almost immediately. Or so she tries.

Because the world’s on fire and there is so much more at stake than one person.

12 - Can’t Hear You Now

She reaches out, sweeping the span of the battlefield with pulsing telepathic waves, but in her mind’s eye, she is flying across the hills and the woods and keep, calling out to the mages that still remained standing. She can feel the faint flicker of Tissaia’s presence and the burn that is Yennefer. Then there’s the swell representing Francesca and the buzz that is Sabrina. But with each name unanswered, the ringing silence grows louder in her head. 

By the end of it, she counts fourteen mages that are missing - peers and acquaintances and allies that she will mourn once the war is over.

Fourteen mages.

But only one who makes her feel as if she may fall apart if she allows herself to truly feel the loss.

8 - Hold It Together

The medic tends to the large gash on her arm and she tries to hold still as the flesh knits itself together. 

She has always had impeccable control over her emotions; it comes easily to her, almost like second nature. But it is the underlying knowledge that presses up against her chest, heavy and suffocating, threatening to explode with every breath she takes.

She has no time to grieve though, even if she can’t stop herself from turning around at every movement of the tent flap, just a little faster every time someone enters or leaves the tent.

“You’re good to go.”

Philippa barely registers the words, her legs carrying her out of the tent automatically - she needs to leave this wretched place behind even if she tells herself she is not running away.

Controlling her emotions is easy.

Holding herself together is hard.

6 - Promises I Can’t Keep (x - companion piece)

“Do you remember what you told me before we went off to Sodden?”

It is the small secluded grove beside the river, tucked away in a dense part of the forest - it is Triss’ favourite spot in Maribor and she had taken Philippa there when Philippa had last visited Temeria. 

“You told me that you would come back to me, safe and sound.” 

Philippa remembers soft lips and gentle caresses when Triss had kissed her so tenderly, so lovingly. She remembers how she had sank into the kiss so easily, so naturally, how her walls had crumbled little by little, how her control had slipped through her fingers bit by bit.

She remembers it all too clearly.

“The battle is over, Triss. And now, I need you to keep your promise.”

There had been blue skies, crystal clear waters and a gentle breeze when Triss had told Philippa she loved her for the first time.

The walls had flown back up instantly before she had been able to truly feel any part of the fear and insecurity she had known was creeping across her heart, any shred of desire or hope that had been building underneath the surface.

“I need you to come back to me.”

It is the place where Philippa had broken Triss’ heart. 

“You can’t.”

She cannot allow Triss to love her.

“Please. Come back to me.”

I can’t.

She cannot allow herself to love Triss.

“Always.”

Philippa gasps and they wake in the palace once again. They stay unmoving for a while before a relieved smile finally tugs at Philippa’s lips.

“Welcome back.”

Triss reaches up to caress Philippa’s cheek and smiles through bleary eyes.

“I made a promise.” Philippa’s smile widens at Triss’ words. “And I always keep my promises.”

2 - Over Again

Philippa stays in Temeria as Redania’s representative to handle the aftermath of the battle, and at Keira’s request and with Foltest’s permission, to oversee Triss’ recovery.

Without magic, Triss’ physical wounds heal slowly but the mental toll is much heavier. Even with Keira’s potions, sleep evades her mostly, and when exhaustion finally overwhelms her, all she can see is fire and steel before she wakes in a haze of sweat and tears, having screamed herself hoarse.

The nightmares plague her relentlessly on the rare nights she manages to fall asleep. But one night, she feels the familiar warmth probing at the corner of her senses, nudging and coaxing to be let in. She can’t quite place it but she recognises its signature, soothing and gentle and a reminder of promises made. Her defences lower just enough to allow the magic to slip into her consciousness. 

The flames flicker out and the steel melts into gold and Philippa steps closer towards her, cupping Triss’ cheeks in her hands and touching her forehead against hers. Triss feels the chaos pull her deeper into its embrace and her heart swells with emotion. She leans forward and Philippa stiffens ever so slightly, only relaxing when Triss covers Philippa’s hands with her own.

The kiss is tender and sweet and it’s so real that Triss almost believes it isn’t just a dream. But then everything melts away and she wakes alone to the morning light with only one thought in her mind and too much love in her heart.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Keira had told her that her sleeping potions had not been particularly effective and she had been right; Philippa can hear the whimpers and cries from where she stands on the opposite side of the door.

She hesitates, wondering if Triss could push through the mental trauma on her own. But Triss is one of her people and Philippa will never forgive herself if she walks away now, abandoning Triss to fend for herself; Philippa has failed her once, she will not repeat the same mistake twice.

Philippa sits beside Triss on the mattress, a flailing arm nearly hitting her square in the face. Her fingertips press against Triss’ temples before Philippa cups Triss’ cheeks in her hands fully and leans down so that their foreheads are touching. Having already established a mental connection once, Philippa finds it much easier to resonate with Triss this time. Her presence seems to calm the younger sorceress and so Philippa returns to Triss’ room time and time again, always leaving just before dawn.

The dreams differ each time - they could be in the yellow fields of Maribor, sitting on the shores of Lake Vizima or strolling through the gardens of the palace - but it is always just the two of them. And every time she resonates with Triss telempathically, Philippa feels something grow in her heart little by little; every time she dreams with Triss, Philippa finds herself falling for her once more.

Against her better judgement, Philippa allows herself to fall in love over and over and over again. 

She allows herself to love Triss, even if it is only when she is dreaming.

7 - Crossing A Line

She should have known that emotions and feelings do not abide by the arbitrary line distinguishing dreams and reality. Philippa copes the best way she knows how - by simply avoiding Triss and burying herself in her work during the day. Weeks pass and Triss’ nightmares have faded away by then. Philippa decides it is time to return to Redania.

She leaves without bidding farewell to Keira or Triss, only saddling a horse and racing off into the night; teleportation would undoubtedly be much faster but Philippa needed to clear her head. With the wind in her hair and the adrenaline coursing through her veins, for a moment, Philippa feels as if she is flying. She spurs her horse on, galloping through the woods and fields and towns at breakneck speed, desperate to capture a lost feeling she cannot name.

Her mare slows to a trot when they reach the bridge spanning the Pontar, almost as if sensing her hesitance.

“Lady Eilhart,” one of the guards call out, eyes lighting up in recognition. “Welcome home.”

Philippa stares at him for a beat and tugs at the reins, turning her mount around.

She heads back to Vizima.

1 - Place to Start

The two of them find themselves at Triss’ favourite spot in Maribor once again, in the small secluded grove beside the river, tucked away in a dense part of the forest.

“I’m not dreaming, am I?” Triss asks with a light chuckle.

Philippa returns a fond smile.

“No, you’re not.”

Eyebrows furrowing slightly in confusion, Triss asks, “Why are we here?”

Philippa inhales deeply.

“This is the place where it began for you. I thought it would be a good place for me to start too.”

“I don’t understand.”

Philippa lets out a huff of laughter. She takes Triss’ hand in hers, pulls her close and kisses her.

“Welcome back.”

#merihart #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #philippa x triss #Philippa Eilhart x Triss Merigold #the witcher #ok the titles are song titles taken from Mike Shinoda's album Post Traumatic #which also serves as the title to this drabble #i took out 3 songs from the album i think #and then renumbered them accordingly #then rearranged them in the order of the plot which i had come up with as inspired by such song titles #and here you have it #this took me quite a while to write #like phew it's not perfect because i just couldn't bring myself to mull over it any longer #but it's fun so let me know what you think #no. 6 is related to the companion piece i wrote called Somewhere Only We Know #the companion piece is my fav piece so far i think #also crossing the Pontar is like crossing the Rubicon #and so Philippa turns back #and i mean once she crosses the pontar she's supposed to be home #but then again home is where the heart is #and her heart is with triss #so yeah

[owlhart]

Somewhere Only We Know

It takes them almost four days to find Triss' body on the battlefield, hair matted with blood. Burns cover her chest and back, charred skin peeling and flaking into blotches of red and pink and black. The nauseating smell of burnt flesh still hangs in the air but it seemed as if Triss had enough magic to heal any major injuries before she had passed out, hidden away in the corner of the archway before the gate.

The field medics stabilise her the best that they can before Keira teleports the both of them back to the royal infirmary in Vizimir.

But that had been a fortnight ago and though Triss' body had recovered with the aid of magic, albeit with scarring on her chest, she had not woken up yet. It is not long before Philippa appears at the Royal Palace of Vizimir and Keira all but drags her to the royal infirmary without so much as a 'hello'. "Help me," the blonde half demands, half pleads, anxiety and helplessness rolling off of her in waves. "She won't wake up. There's nothing wrong with her physically and this isn't a medically induced coma, but she just won't wake up. She doesn't respond to any stimulus, she doesn't react to anything and oh gods, help her, Philippa. I don't know what to do." Philippa stares down at Triss' prone form. Dressed in a simple gown, she simply lay there, her chestnut curls spread out on the pillow like a halo, a serene expression on her face - there is no pain, only painful memories etched onto her chest in the form of scars. Philippa sits beside her and takes her hand. She sends a pulse of magic through Triss' body and the magic rebounds back full circle. Her eyebrows knit together in thought. Gingerly, she sends a continuous stream of magic into Triss' body this time, slowly probing until she hits a barrier. "What is it?" Keira asks at the serious expression on Philippa's face.

"You are correct in that physically she is fine, aside from the scarring. But there is a magical barrier around her mind - an automatic defence mechanism triggered by immense stress and trauma. It’s rare but not unheard of.”

“Alright, then how do we snap her out of it?” Philippa stills and Keira sucks in a breath at the look on her face, wringing her hands frantically. “Oh gods, what do we do? I mean, Tissaia’s still recovering from dimeritium poisoning and Yennefer’s in no shape to help. What...what about Sheala? Or...or Francesca! She must know something!”

“Keira," Philippa grabs her by the arm. “Pull yourself together and then make yourself useful and go to the library to do some research on this. I need to think.”

“Research?”

“Keira, focus please. I’m not asking you to find a cure for the Catriona plague, so stop panicking and go do as I say.”

Keira moves to rush out of the room and Philippa catches her by the shoulder.

“Look at me. Look at me, Keira.” She holds her gaze. “Take a deep breathe. Focus. Yes?”

Keira inhales deeply. 

“Alright, now go.”

The younger sorceress nods and leaves swiftly. Philippa watches her disappear out the door before she herself lets out a deep sigh, the thundering of her heartbeat in her ears the only thing betraying her true feelings.

She takes a minute to compose herself, compartmentalising her emotions with practiced ease. Then, she takes Triss’ hand in her own, her other hand sweeping back the hair from her face and placing it over Triss’ forehead. The magic surges through her fingertips and she tries to channel it into Triss but the barrier holds fast, and it starts to push back against the intrusion, almost as if rejecting her. Philippa eases off, afraid that forcing her way through would cause more harm.

She tries for hours but to no avail and when she has exhausted her magic, she turns to Sheala.

“I’m sorry, Philippa, but it will take me at least a week to get to Temeria. My megascope isn’t functioning at its full capacity at the moment and I cannot teleport there.”

Philippa grimaces at the other woman’s fuzzy image as the megascope flickered violently.

“Do you have any idea how to wake her up?”

“I don’t, at least not until I’ve examined Triss.”

Philippa feels a knot form in her throat and she gives Sheala a nod of thanks. Sheala disconnects and Philippa tries but fails to contact Francesca and Ida. With a heavy heart, she helps Keira with her research, pouring over every single book, scroll and parchment she can get her hands on. They carry on for days and when Philippa is too exhausted to continue, she drags herself to Triss’ side.

She looks so peaceful lying there and Philippa sinks to her knees at her bedside. She is tired, she is drained, and her heart aches so terribly.

“Triss,” she whispers, swallowing hard, “if you can hear me, I need you to fight. I need you to be stronger and braver than you were at Sodden. I need you to be fearless.” She looks up at the ceiling, blinking quickly. “For the both of us. Triss, please.”

So tell me when you're gonna let me in. I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin.

Her hands are shaking as she stands up wearily. The weight in her chest swells as she places a kiss on Triss’ forehead and she closes her eyes, inhaling the familiar scent - it is warm and comforting and nostalgic and her heart sinks. She places her hands on Triss’ temples and touches foreheads. The world dissolves around her suddenly and she finds herself standing in the middle of a forest. It is dark and grey and the thick damp mist surrounds her. She can’t see past a few feet in front of her and she stills, trying to get a bearing of her current whereabouts. The sounds fade and all she can hear is the thudding of her heartbeat and her shallow breathing echoing in her head. 

She takes a step forward and the mist retreats slightly. She takes another step, and another and another and something pricks at the back of her mind.

The feeling is different but she knows this place. 

She cannot place it but it calls to her, stronger with each step she takes.

Is this the place we used to love? Is this the place that I've been dreaming of? Her boots crunch against the dry bed of leaves blanketing the ground and the sound of rushing water grows louder. Her fingers brush against the smooth bark of the white birch trees thoughtfully.

She knows this place.

The world reveals more of itself as she wanders towards the source of the rushing water until she finds herself with one foot in the river. She remembers this place.

Time slows down, the blood pulsing in his ears so loudly that it roars and rages and she drops down on one knee, one hand pressed to the side of her head. Gasping, Philippa blinks away the tears.

It is the small secluded grove beside the river, tucked away in a dense part of the forest - it is Triss’ favourite spot in Maribor and she had taken Philippa there when Philippa had last visited Temeria; it is the place where Triss had told Philippa she loved her for the first time, where Triss had kissed her so tenderly, so lovingly; it is the place where Philippa had broken Triss’ heart. 

But this is an illusion, a bastardisation of its real counterpart in all its faded colours and suffocating eerieness, and Philippa wants to scream.

A murmur floats to her with the wind and her head snaps up. She sees the figure standing in the river near the shore on the other side and she doesn’t need to see the chestnut curls or cornflower blue eyes or that gentle, tender smile to know who it is.

She would recognise Triss in a thousand worlds, in a thousand lifetimes.

“Triss!”

There is something beckoning her, calling her, and Philippa fights against its hypnotic draw. Triss has almost crossed the river, but something tells Philippa she cannot allow her to reach the other side.

Philippa wades deeper into the river and she can see visions reflected on the surface of the water - she sees Triss conjuring vines to block the Nilfgaardian’s advances; she sees the flames engulf her; she sees the tears and the blood and the agony - and Triss needs only one more step to reach the opposite bank.

A desperate fury ignites in her chest and she surges forward against the water current.

“Triss!”

Triss turns around at her scream, eyes wide. 

Philippa stops in the middle of the river. There is something blocking her and she can go no further. And so, she extends a hand, palm upwards. 

And if you have a minute, why don't we go talk about it somewhere only we know?

Philippa fights to keep her voice steady.

“Do you remember what you told me before we went off to Sodden?”

Pain flashes across Triss’ eyes at the mention of Sodden but she nods wordlessly. “You told me that you would come back to me, safe and sound.” Her voice is thick with emotion but Philippa presses on. “The battle is over, Triss. And now, I need you to keep your promise. I need you to come back to me.” She is vaguely aware of the wetness on her cheeks. “Please. Come back to me.” This could be the end of everything, so why don't we go somewhere only we know?

Triss stares at her before taking a shaky step towards Philippa. She is crying too but she reaches out and takes her outstretched hand so gently that Philippa thinks it is all just a dream.

The world burns away the grey and monochrome colours. The mist dissipates instantly and blue and green and brown and gold sears back into their vision. There is warm sunlight and a cool breeze and the murky waters have cleared into a beautiful turquoise but Philippa does not see or feel any of it.

There is only Triss.

And Triss smiles through her tears, a hand reaching up to caress Philippa’s cheek. 

“Always.”

Philippa gasps and they wake in the palace once again. They stay unmoving for a while before a relieved smile finally tugs at Philippa’s lips.

“Welcome back.”

#merihart #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #philippa x triss #philippa eilhart x triss merigold #the witcher #i did wanna write a small scene where once Phil enters the dream state #there's a barrier encompassing the two of them so no one else can approach them #and they have to wait for Phil to bring Triss back #but it would interrupt the flow here #the idea here was that Phil was drained in mind and spirit and in magic #and it was her at her most vulnerable #also there is such a strong emotional connection between Phil and Triss that Philippa is really the only one who can form this bond #and step into Triss' mind like that #and pull her back out #lyrics from Somewhere Only We Know by Keane

[owlhart]

Thank you for reading my stuff. Thank you for liking it and reblogging it. I look at all your tags and I remember / recognise your usernames. I’m grateful for you guys.

Thank you <3

#ooc #i'm getting sad writing this new drabble #so i wanted to say hi to you guys

[owlhart]

This Is The Way

So this is the way that I say I need you.

Winter tumbled headfirst into spring, luscious fields of green scattered with magneta ginatias and white myrtle peaking through the melting snow as blowballs swayed in the warm breeze and hellebores danced under the golden sunlight. The skies were painted a baby blue, white wispy streaks of clouds floating lazily across it and Triss would have loved for nothing more than to lie on the grass and stare at the clouds all day. But alas, she was stuck inside the Tretogor palace at a summit with Foltest, who was bickering over something trivial with Vizimir. 

The meeting dragged on and on and on and despite her best efforts to focus on the matters being discussed, her mind wandered off before being pulled back to the present when she felt the weight of Philippa’s gaze burning into the side of her face, heavy and restless. Triss wet her lips unconsciously and Philippa’s eyes flickered down towards them briefly before snapping up to meet her eyes. Triss shot her a curious look but Philippa withdrew into herself - not visibly but Triss knew her well enough by now to recognise the signs - walls slipping back into place, and the moment of connection was broken.

When the two monarchs had grown tired of arguing, they retired into the dining hall for a drink - though to be honest, Triss thought she also deserved a drink - leaving the two sorceresses alone in the great hall. Triss moved over to stand beside Philippa, who was simply staring out the large glass windows.

“It’s a beautiful day,” Triss said, “but you seem like you have a lot on your mind.” 

Philippa’s shoulders deflated ever so slightly.

“I always do.”

They shared in the heavy silence for a while before Triss turned to leave, only for Philippa to catch her by the hand. Triss let out a soft gasp and glanced over her shoulder. Philippa was still staring out the window and she had never looked beautiful than now, bathed in the warm orange glow of the setting sun.

“Stay.”

The single word lacked Philippa’s usual authoritative tone but was instead tinged with hesitance and uncertainty, a cross between a question and a plea. 

Triss recognised the unspoken meaning and she nodded, brushing a thumb across the back of Philippa’s hand.

“Ok.”

And Philippa smiled.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the way that I say I love you.

Summer rolled in like a heat wave, and everything from the temperatures, the colours and people’s emotions, seemed to intensify. 

After much pleading and cajoling, Philippa had allowed Triss to drag her to Toussaint on one of those rare weekends when neither of them had to attend to any pressing matters.

Beauclair was bustling with life with all its sophistication and elegance, and the two of them spent the better part of the day wandering through the maze of multi-coloured buildings, heels clicking on the cobblestones and hands brushing against each others. Philippa ordered a few boxes of Everluce and Est Est from the winery to be sent to Montecalvo and Triss restocked on some rare herbs at the herb store. They explored every nook and cranny of the city, ambling past the jewellers - Triss’ eyes almost popped out at the size of one of the sapphires which Philippa found comically appealing - and the perfumery and the tavern.  

And when Triss’ stomach started to protest quite loudly, Philippa let out a low chuckle and led Triss to the Knights Dormant Square, where they sat down outdoors at a restaurant overlooking the lake, the Beauclair Palace a majestic background against the backdrop of the surrounding mountains. 

Triss wished that she could capture this moment - a profile of Philippa glancing out at the waters that sparkled like diamonds in the sunlight, swirling her Fiorano with a content smile tugging at the corner of her lips - it was absolutely picturesque.

“I wish we could have more time to enjoy life like this,” Triss mused, resting her chin on her palm.

Philippa hummed in agreement, taking a sip from her glass slowly. 

“We will, once we’ve changed the world.”

Triss stared out across the lake, trying to hide the blush flaring up in her cheeks. “We?”

“Hm?”

“You said ‘we’.”

“And?”

A heat started creeping up the back of her neck and Triss rubbed at it nervously.

“It’s nothing.”

Philippa placed her glass down on the table, eyes softening a fraction. “It’s not nothing if it’s bothering you that much.”

Triss bit her bottom lip, taking her time to collect her thoughts. Philippa waited patiently, neither pressing her nor dismissing her, and for that, Triss was grateful.

“Sometimes, I just don’t feel like I’m good enough. I know I am. But sometimes...it’s just a feeling, like I’m not as powerful or as experienced or beautiful,” her hand fiddled with the collar of her blouse, “and...I don’t know, I just look around me and...I wish I could be...more. Just more.” Triss winced sheepishly. “Never mind, I’m just being silly. Forget I said anything.”

Pursing her lips, Philippa turned to face Triss fully with a serious expression.

“It’s easy to doubt yourself, but you are beautiful and you are powerful. And your power and experience will increase over time. Wanting to achieve more is not a bad thing by any means. But do not change for anyone else. You are who you are, who you can be, who you want to be, regardless of what others may think or what they expect you to be. Don’t compare yourselves to them, because they don’t hold a candle to you.”

Triss sucked in a breath, looking slightly emotional. 

“Thank you.” - for believing in me; for loving me and for loving me for who I am.

Nodding, Philippa took another sip of her wine and slid a velvet box across the table almost casually.

Triss’ eyes bugged out once again at the cornflower blue sapphire pendant hanging from the silver chain.

“It reminded me of your eyes,” Philippa shrugged.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the way that I say I’m yours.

Summer eased into autumn seamlessly, warm shades of red, orange and yellow washing away the cooler blues and greens. 

Philippa had been gone for the whole day, attending the autumn solstice festival with a noblewomen and Triss could only imagine the more intimate activities they would get up to that night. And against her better judgement, jealousy curled around her heart with a vicelike grip and try as she may, she could not shake the feeling, no matter how much she told herself that Philippa was only doing it to obtain information and leverage.

It was irrational and it was unfounded, but insecurity and lack of confidence was something that had been engrained in her since she had been young. She had gotten better at overcoming such flaws but now and again, they would rear their ugly heads and she would have to fight to avoid sinking into the abyss.

Sleep evaded her most of the night and by the time Philippa returned the next morning, the anxiety in her heart had grown, lodging itself in her throat and twisting her stomach and gut unforgivingly.

“Triss?”

Her head snapped up towards the sound when Philippa stepped into the room.

“What’s wrong?”

Triss flinched slightly at the hard tone. Wringing her hands frantically, she mumbled, “nothing, I just...you...you were just gone for a while and I was wondering when you’d be back and-”

“Triss,” Philippa interrupted, taking both of Triss’ hands in her own. “Stop pacing. Look at me.”

Triss stopped, insecurity fluttering across her face. Philippa held her gaze, leaning forward and touching her forehead against hers as she placed Triss’ hand over her chest. The rhythmic thumping of Philippa’s heart pulsed against Triss’ fingertips, steady and soothing. 

She knew how Philippa felt about her - Philippa would never voice it in such obvious terms but she would let Triss know in her way. Still, there was always an insecurity tucked away in the back of her mind, a little part of her that always needed reassurance. It was stupid because she knew better - she knew Philippa’s mind, she knew her heart. She knew Philippa.

It was stupid.

It was so stupid.

Gods, she was so stupid.

The tears fell from Triss’ eyes and Philippa shushed her gently, giving her hand a little squeeze and pressing it harder against her chest, fingers splayed between the gaps of hers.

It beats - “For you and only you.”

Triss nodded wordlessly, biting her lip to keep the sobs from escaping even though her shoulders shook with the effort.

Philippa kissed away her tears.

“And you have all of it.”

Triss buried her face into the crook of Philippa’s neck and Philippa wrapped the younger sorceress in her embrace.

“All of it.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is the way that I’m learning to breathe.

The trees shed their autumn robes of fire red and golden yellow and the thick carpet of crisp leaves was soon replaced with a velvety bed of snow. Triss breathed in the sweetness of the air with a blissful smile, the chill sending goosebumps across her arms almost deliciously. 

She had always loved everything about winter - the crisp air, the shimmering drift of snowflakes, the refreshing crunch of the snow beneath her feet - there was a tranquility and a sense of freedom that she associated with the whiteness of winter.

The gentle flapping of wings caught her attention and she looked up just in time to see a grey owl soar through the air, dipping down gently as it drew closer before landing on her shoulder. 

“Hitching a ride?” Triss twisted her head and placed a tender kiss on its beak. “Are you tired already?”

Philippa gave her a piercing look and let out a quiet hoot in response before she started fluffing her feathers. Triss smiled fondly and rubbed the top of her head, relishing the softness of her feathers. Philippa hunkered down at her touch and shifted slightly closer to Triss’ cheek, eyes sliding close in comfort.

Triss continued on her way, the rhythm of her footsteps lulling Philippa into a semi-conscious state and she nestled her head against the welcome warmth of Triss’ cheek. Triss slowed to a stop at the steps of the staircase leading from the garden to the castle of Montecalvo and turned to look once more across the blanket of snow.

She inhaled deeply and her heart swelled at the same time.

“I love you very much,” she whispered to the sky.

Philippa nuzzled her chin affectionately, a hoot rumbling in her chest, and Triss had never felt more content.

#merihart #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #philippa eilhart x triss merigold #philippa x triss #the witcher #lyrics from learning to breathe by switchfoot #because everything i've written on here so far is so angsty it's depressing #so here have a happier one even if it's not like super fluffy or whatever #i do wanna try to write a crack drabble with the whole lodge #i'm not as good writing fluff imo #but i liked autumn and winter but not so much spring and summer #it's telling that i wrote this drabble backwards starting from winter backwards to spring lol

[owlhart]

Philippa lounged against the base of the willow tree beside the lake, her legs crossed before her as she stared out over the lake's surface. Eyes scanning, they finally came upon the treasure of their search.

Triss sat on a boulder, damp hair curled and sticking to her bare shoulders as she rested her chin on her bent knees. Phil couldn't help the soft sigh that pushed through her lips at the angelic sight before her. This striking woman was all hers. Some days she still had to pinch herself to see if she was dreaming.

She focused back on Triss once more, only to find that her lover was now gazing back at her. With a smile, Triss slipped into the water and made her way towards the shore, water droplets racing down her shoulders, bare breasts and stomach before stopping at her bikini-clad waist.

"Enjoying the view, Pippa?"

"Mmhm... And it is a fantastic view if I do say so myself." Phil purred, arms encircling Triss as she sank down to straddle her lap, her own arms wrapping around Phil's waist as she curled up in her love's arms. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Hmm... I suppose so." Triss mumbled, huddling closer against Phil's body.

"What's wrong, dove?"

"I would have more fun if... You would swim with me." Triss whispered, a blush coming to her cheeks as she pressed her face to Phil's blouse.

Philippa had always adored how easily flustered Triss became when a simple conversation like this one turned into flirting. The elder woman shrugged her blouse off, leaving her in a simple, black bikini top. Triss' blush deepened as Philippa held her closer to her skin, melding the heat of their bodies together beneath the gentle rays of the sun.

Triss eventually was pulled back into the lake by Phil as the elder woman stepped into the crystalline water. She disappeared beneath the surface a few moments later before resurfacing with her top between her fingers. Triss flushed a deeper shade of crimson at Philippa's teasing as the elder woman stepped closer and closer to her before finally pushing her back against the shore, pinning her back to the sand as she placed her hands on either side of Triss' head.

"You've been teasing and teasing all afternoon... Perhaps it's time for you to be rewarded for all of that." Phil whispered in her ear, her breath rolling over Triss' skin as she spoke, sending a shiver through the younger woman.

"Have I really been teasing?" Triss questioned, though the smile on her face told Phil all she needed to know.

"In more ways than one, little spark." Phil replied, nipping at Triss' neck before trailing her lips further down.

"I'll try not to be too loud." Triss hummed, a soft moan escaping her lips a moment later.

"Mind that you aren't." Phil replied between kisses.

#merihart #philippa eilhart #triss merigold #philippa x triss #philippa eilhart x triss merigold #the witcher