Hiii!! Sorry for the delay ♥ I'm kinda shy about what i write, because i was used to do it, few years back, then paused for a long time and now i think my writing skill are really bad (i'm working on it ahah) and again it's also because i must translate because i write in french! But i can sometimes give a try to some oneshot and find the courage to post it! If with the time you missed it, you can find one about Tissaia and Aria here i migh do a masterlist later ! Thank you for asking ♥

Mist of chaos (part 5)

A/N: Got few requests about Fanfic with Aria Witcher's AU. I'm not quite used about how tumblr works, so i hope the anonym person who asked me for this prompt will read this! I just wanted to say english is not my first langage, i write first in french and then, i do my best to translate but even if i'm used to read in english i can still do some mistakes! i'm sorry for that ♥

Pairings: OC x Tissaia

Summary: Bath time!

Word count: 3144 it's extra long because i doesn't wanted to do a part 6!!) Warnings: Blood.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 —------------------------------------------ Tissaia wrung out the cloth slightly, then slowly ran it over the bounty hunter’s shoulder, wiping away the last traces of dried blood and mud. Her silence was an answer in itself. Aria felt her heart beat a little harder. She didn’t know why. Or maybe she knew all too well. She decided to change the subject.

- You said Triss came by, didn’t you?

- Yes.

- So she knows I’m here. In your quarters.

Tissaia simply nodded. Aria groaned, her gaze fixing on the water a little further ahead. She tightened her arms around her knees, offering her back to the archmage.

- Perfect… that’ll stir up rumors again.

A soft sigh escaped the rector’s lips, almost exasperated.

- I would hope you have other concerns right now.

The redhead let out a weak laugh, which quickly turned into a grimace. The warm water surrounded her, slowly easing her aching muscles. Tissaia passed the damp cloth over her skin with meticulous precision.

Aria watched her work, fascinated by the measured gestures and the gentleness she felt. Then her gaze drifted, following the curve of the arm tending to her, down to the fabric of her dress. And she saw them, dark, sticky stains. Blood. Her blood.

The fabric was ruined, like the sheets. Dark splashes marked the sleeves, brownish streaks spread across the bodice and hem. It made her look… strangely human. Aria had never seen Tissaia like this.

Always immaculate. Always perfect. Always a distant vision of absolute control. But tonight… Tonight, there were stray brown strands of hair slipping from her usually pristine bun, a sullied dress, faint shadows beneath those piercing eyes. It all stood in stark contrast to the impeccable elegance Aria was used to. A strange feeling welled up inside her. She blinked, lowering her head slightly, her chest tightening.

- Tissaia…

The sorceress didn’t answer, continuing to cleanse her arms, her collarbone, her shoulders with unwavering composure. She felt her throat constrict. She wasn’t the type to apologize easily, it wasn’t in her nature. But this… this was different.

- Sorry.

The rector paused for a moment, finally lifting her gaze to her. Her expression was unreadable, but Aria saw something there. A quiet exhaustion. Perhaps a veiled irritation. Perhaps something else she wasn’t ready to name.

- For what? Tissaia asked, her tone measured.

The redhead gave a joyless smile, lowering her gaze to the ruined dress.

- For this.

She weakly lifted a hand, reaching over the edge of the tub to brush her fingertips against the stained fabric.

- You’re covered in my blood…

Tissaia held her gaze for a few seconds, then let out a soft sigh.

- That’s what happens when you’re reckless and stubborn.

Aria frowned slightly. The archmage barely glanced away, resuming her slow, methodical movements as if she hadn’t said anything at all.

- Hmm.

Her former mentor gave her a sidelong look before wringing out the cloth and sliding a hand behind her neck, lifting her damp hair to clean the last traces of blood.

The barely-there touch of her fingers sent a shiver down Aria’s spine. Her breath hitched for a fraction of a second. Then, in a softer tone, she murmured:

- Have you slept, at least?

Tissaia didn’t answer right away. That silence, that infinitesimal pause… She didn’t need more to know the truth. She closed her eyes briefly, then sighed.

- You know this is just going to make me feel even more guilty, right?

- That is not my intention.

- You’re doing a fine job of it anyway.

A silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, the rector ran the cloth along her nape, brushing her skin with surprising delicacy. Aria felt her heartbeat quicken. And for the first time since this strange evening had begun, she wondered if she was the only one who felt the tension lingering between them.

The bathwater had turned lukewarm by now, the scent of medicinal herbs fading little by little. Tissaia continued tending to the bounty hunter with practiced precision, as if each movement was measured, calculated, to erase every last trace of what she had endured outside.

But it wasn’t just about cleanliness. It was something else. She could feel it.

In the way Tissaia’s fingers sometimes lingered against her skin a little longer than necessary. In the way her gaze briefly traced the ink of her tattoos before quickly looking away, as if refusing to linger. In the way her silence carried more weight than usual.

Aria let out a quiet sigh, tilting her head back slightly to look at the rector.

- Tissaia.

She said her name with unusual softness. The woman in question didn’t lift her eyes immediately but did pause, raising a single brow. Her former student gave her a tired smile.

- I’ll survive, you know. You and Triss did a fine job.

A barely perceptible flicker crossed Tissaia’s face. Then, slowly, she wrung out the cloth in her hands before setting it down on the edge of the tub.

- That’s not what worries me.

Aria frowned.

- Oh, and what's then?

Tissaia finally met her gaze. A shiver ran down the redhead’s spine.

- It’s the next time that worries me.

Aria blinked. That was not the answer she had expected. Not at all. A part of her had braced for a sharp remark, a scolding, a lecture on recklessness and unnecessary risks. But not this. Not this barely veiled confession. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Because for once, she didn’t know what to say. And that… that almost terrified her.

A silence stretched between them. Then, with slow, deliberate movements, Tissaia straightened.

- The bath is over.

It wasn’t a question. Aria sighed, running a hand over her face.

- Yeah.

She tried to move, but a sharp pain in her side made her wince. Immediately, the rector was at her side again, her hands steadying her without a word. The silence between them grew heavier. Aria lifted her eyes and met an intense, worried stare.

For a moment, she forgot the pain. She forgot everything except for this closeness that shouldn’t exist, this strange, growing feeling in her stomach.

Then Tissaia broke the moment, releasing her and handing her a towel.

- Dry yourself.

Aria took the fabric, her gaze still fixed on the woman before her. She didn’t move right away. Tissaia remained there, straight-backed and composed, watching her with that quiet intensity that unsettled her more than she wanted to admit.

The silence weighed between them. So, Aria did what she did best, she broke the tension with irony.

- Are you going to stand there scrutinizing me the entire time, or will you grant me a semblance of modesty?

Tissaia arched a brow but didn’t answer immediately. Then, after a beat, she finally turned away, walking toward the door with measured steps.

- That would be attributing you qualities I’ve never known you to possess.

Aria let out a short laugh, before wincing at the sharp pain in her ribs. She exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to her side. Finally, she rose carefully from the bath, wrapping the towel around herself, a shiver running through her at the contrast of cool air against her damp skin. But she had to admit, she felt better. If she ignored the warmth still coiled in her stomach.

Her gaze drifted toward the bed in the doorway, where Nymeria was now sprawled on her back in the middle of fresh linens, as if she owned the place. The archmage had wasted no time changing the sheets with a flick of her fingers. Literally.

Aria watched her marten, amused and slightly relieved.

- I see some people get comfortable rather quickly…

She shook her head slightly, but her smile faded when she turned back to Tissaia, who was now returning to her, a clean blouse in her hands. The fabric was dark, fluid, far more refined than what Aria typically wore.

She raised a brow.

- That’s for me?

Tissaia nodded, stepping closer.

- It’s the only thing I could find that would suit you.

Aria took the garment, running her fingers over the fabric with a dubious expression. It was true, finding something in her size within her former mentor’s wardrobe must have been quite a challenge.

Her gaze dropped to Tissaia’s robe . That strange sensation tightened in her chest again. She really didn’t like this. The thought of having marked her this way. The thought of her watching over her without even taking the time to change. Without even sleeping.

The redhead lowered her head slightly, brushing the soft fabric of the borrowed blouse with her fingertips.

- You should change too.

She met her eyes for a moment before answering simply:

- Later.

Aria looked up, groaning softly as she caught that familiar stubbornness. She hesitated, then murmured:

- And sleep?

Silence. A very brief silence, but telling enough.

- Later.

She sighed.

- Tissaia…

The rector gave the faintest shrug, as if to put an end to the discussion.

- Get dressed first. We’ll see about the rest afterward.

Aria opened her mouth, ready to argue, but thought better of it. She knew that tone. It wasn’t open to discussion. But she wasn’t done yet.

She carefully pulled the garment over her aching body, every movement met with protest from her sore muscles. The fabric was softer than she expected, light and well-tailored, far too elegant for the situation.

She wasn’t sure she liked the way it felt against her skin. Distractedly, her fingers traced the fabric as she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed, shifting to find a position that wouldn’t send pain lancing through her body.

Tissaia remained silent, watching her with an unreadable expression. Eventually, Aria lifted her gaze.

- Well? Do I look presentable?

A faint twitch at the corner of the rector’s lips betrayed the shadow of amusement.

- As much as possible.

Aria raised a brow, but her attention drifted once again to Tissaia’s stained robe. The irritation returned, now tinged with concern.

She hesitated, then leaned forward slightly, ignoring the ache in her ribs to reach for Tissaia’s hand, brushing her fingers against it.

- You have blood all over you.

Tissaia didn’t pull away, but her expression closed off slightly.

- It’s nothing.

- It’s not ‘nothing.’ How long have you been like this?

Silence. Aria tightened her hold just a fraction, frowning.

-And don’t say ‘later.’

Tissaia held her gaze for a moment before looking away, as if choosing her words carefully.

- Since I found you.

Aria felt her throat tighten. Her hand slowly slid from Tissaia’s, but she didn’t completely break contact. She exhaled.

- Tissaia…

The rector let out the barest sigh, as if she lacked the patience for this argument.

- You should rest.

- And you?

- I’ll watch over you.

Aria closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before murmuring:

- I’m not going to disappear in my sleep.

She felt Tissaia’s fingers tense slightly beneath hers. But no words came. So Aria tried a different approach.

- If you want to keep an eye on me, fine.

She caught Tissaia’s gaze with a flicker of challenge.

- But at least change… Please.

Silence. A long exchange of glances. Then, against all odds, Tissaia slowly withdrew her hand and stood.

-...Very well.

Aria couldn't hide her surprise. She had expected more resistance. But when Tissaia turned on her heels and headed toward the wardrobe, she understood, it wasn’t surrender. It was a concession, made so that the young woman wouldn’t insist further.

The redhead watched her back, the way she opened the wardrobe door with measured precision. She didn’t know whether to feel relieved… or even more worried.

Aria followed Tissaia with her gaze as she rummaged through the wardrobe with her usual meticulousness. Every movement was controlled, almost mechanical, but the bounty huntress didn’t miss the subtle tension in her shoulders. She wasn’t sure what she had hoped to see. Perhaps a sign, a crack, something to prove that she had done more than just irritate her by insisting, that she had touched something deeper.

She sighed and let herself lean back slightly, propping her weight on her forearms. Her body was heavy, aching, but the concern gnawing at her for her former mentor far outweighed her own pain.

On the bed, Nym, who had been resting peacefully, lifted her head and observed the scene with sharp eyes. The small creature stared at the rector for a moment, then wrinkled her little nose before making a sudden decision. With all the grace in the world, she leapt from the bed.

Aria blinked as the marten landed smoothly and headed straight for Tissaia.

- Nym…?

She wanted to reach out to stop her, but the small creature was already at the archmage’s feet, nuzzling the hem of her soiled robe.

Tissaia froze. Aria held her breath.

Nym let out a soft, insistent chirp, rising slightly onto her hind legs to reach higher. The rector lowered her gaze to her, unmoving, before exhaling the faintest sigh. Then, against all odds, she crouched.

The redhead furrowed her brows slightly, watching with a strange fascination as the improbable scene unfolded before her.

She didn’t push the animal away. Instead, she extended a hand, hesitating for only a fraction of a second before brushing her fingers against the small creature’s fur. Nym immediately leaned into the touch, letting out a contented noise.

For a brief moment, Tissaia’s gaze softened. Something clenched in Aria’s chest.

- She won’t leave you alone until you’re clean, she murmured.

The archmage didn’t respond immediately. She simply continued to stroke the marten, her fingers gliding gently over the still slightly coarse fur. Then, finally, she straightened with fluid grace, her mask of composure slipping back into place.

- I suppose resisting would be pointless.

Aria smiled faintly.

- I’m glad you’re finally understanding that.

She expected a sharp remark, but Tissaia merely gave her an unreadable look before disappearing into the adjoining room, the same one the bounty huntress had left just moments earlier.

The door closed behind her.

Aria exhaled slowly, her hand instinctively reaching out to pet Nym as the little creature bounded back onto the bed.

- You’re a real manipulator, you know that? she whispered to her companion.

Nym met her gaze with bright eyes before curling up against her side, utterly satisfied.

A quiet laugh escaped Aria, but the amusement faded quickly as her gaze wandered over the room.

The unmade bed. The stacked towels. The heavy atmosphere of a place that hadn’t known rest in far too long.

She ran a hand through her still-damp hair.

Tissaia had given her this first bounty, since she is back here. But in the end, she was the one who seemed the most drained by it.

Silence stretched, broken only by the soft crackling of candles and the gentle trickle of water from the other side of the door. She leaned back against the pillows, her mind unsettled. She should have rested. Her body needed it. But her thoughts refused to quiet.

Her gaze drifted briefly to the carved ceiling, then back to the room. Every detail here exuded order and control, and yet… something felt different.

Tissaia’s presence was more tangible than ever.

She didn’t know if it was because she knew she was just behind that door, or if she was only now fully grasping what it meant to be here, in her chambers, under her care.

Nym, curled against her flank, had already dozed off. But she, she had no such peace.

She sat up slightly when the door finally reopened, pulling herself from her thoughts.

Tissaia reappeared, dressed in a simple, clean nightgown of pale blue, her still-damp hair slicked back. She paused briefly on the threshold, her sharp gaze sweeping over the room before stepping toward the small cabinet where bottles of oils and medicinal balms were neatly arranged.

Aria watched in silence, noting with some satisfaction that she seemed… better. Less rigid. Less haunted.

The rector opened a small vial, inhaling its contents briefly before pouring a thin stream into a waiting dish.

- You’re still awake.

Aria arched a brow.

- Says the one who hasn’t slept at all.

- I’m not the one who needs rest.

- Are you certain about that?

Tissaia didn’t answer immediately. She closed the vial carefully, then finally turned to face her, arms crossed.

- I’m going to apply a balm to your ribs. It will soothe the pain and help with the healing.

Aria smirked.

- I’m starting to think you enjoy taking care of me.

She expected an exasperated sigh, a sharp look, but Tissaia’s reaction wasn’t what she anticipated. Instead, the rector simply observed her, expression unreadable, before approaching the bed with slow, deliberate steps.

She felt her breath catch for no good reason.

- Lift your shirt.

Her heart gave a foolish jolt. The words were purely clinical, nothing but a medical instruction, and yet… She swallowed and obeyed, carefully lifting the fabric to expose her bruised side.

Tissaia sat on the edge of the bed, dipping her fingers into the medicinal oil before pressing them against her skin.

The touch was cool at first, then warmth spread from her fingertips, sinking into Aria’s flesh. She wanted to say something, anything, to break the air between them that suddenly felt too dense, too intimate. But no words came.

She could only watch her former mentor, noting the concentration on her face, the way she massaged the injured area with more gentleness than Aria had ever thought her capable of.

Then, unexpectedly, Tissaia broke the silence.

- I don’t want this to happen again.

Aria blinked, almost startled.

-…What?

Tissaia didn’t look up.

- Finding you like this. Injured, covered in blood, at the mercy of whatever cruel fate may befall you.

Aria’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t expected that, not this raw honesty, hidden beneath a carefully maintained composure. She swallowed before murmuring:

- This isn’t the first time, Tissaia. You know that.

- It was the first time since your return to Aretuza.

That nuance, that distinction, Aria understood then. It wasn’t just fear of losing her. It was what it meant.

She was no longer that reckless student who could be punished, dismissed, controlled. She was a seasoned sorceress, a woman who had chosen a path beyond Aretuza’s walls.

And yet… she was here. In her chambers. Under her care. She no longer belonged to Aretuza. But to Tissaia, she still belonged to something. And that thought sent a strange warmth blooming in her chest.

A smile flickered onto her lips—genuine this time, softer, truer.

- I can’t promise it won’t happen again.

Tissaia finally met her gaze. Aria wet her lips.

- But I can promise I’ll always be able to come back.

Silence.

Something passed through Tissaia’s eyes, fleeting, indecipherable. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, she inclined her head. She didn’t agree.

But for this night, at least, she would accept it.

Thank you! ♥ Here we go, dancing babes! Aria migh be a little too confident on this one bahaha

Mist of Chaos (part 4)

A/N: Got few requests about Fanfic with Aria Witcher's AU. I'm not quite used about how tumblr works, so i hope the anonym person who asked me for this prompt will read this! “ tissaia finally finds her but aria is badly beaten up after the fight, so tissaia takes care of her?” I just wanted to add, english is not my first langage, i write first in french and then, i do my best to translate but even if i'm used to read in english i can still do some mistakes! i'm sorry for that ♥

Pairings: OC x Tissaia

Summary: Aria is finally awake and Tissaia have plans for her Word count: 2032

Warnings: Blood, Fainted body, Severe wounds. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 5 ----------------------------

Aria’s sleep did not last long.

She reopened her eyes, soundlessly, barely two hours later. Her head still felt heavy, and she was still fighting the dull pain rooted deep in her muscles. But this time, her mind was clearer, even if she did not feel any more rested. She blinked slowly, trying to chase away the haze, adjusting her vision to the dim lighting in the room.

That’s when she started to realize.

The sheets were too silky, too soft. The air carried a scent she would have recognized among thousands. The heavy wooden furniture around her, the drapes of the canopy bed she was nestled in… None of it resembled a simple infirmary room… and this wasn’t her room either.

Her gaze drifted toward Tissaia. Still there. Sitting, leaning over the grimoire in her hands, though her eyes did not seem to truly follow the words. Her expression was as grave as ever, her brows barely furrowed. Aria slightly parted her lips, then closed them again, her mind slowly coming back to life. She observed her a moment longer. Her heart skipped a beat.

She was in her quarters.

In the same instant, she realized she wasn’t exactly dressed, feeling the sheets’ fabric against her bare skin, though some spots still felt sticky. The sheets… They were ruined. A pang of guilt crept into her chest. The bounty hunter had left a fine mark of her passing… as she always did, wherever she went. But wrecking Tissaia’s quarters while unconscious was something else entirely…

She took a deep breath before breaking the silence.

- Tissaia…?

Her voice was far raspier than she had wanted, and a grimace escaped her due to the pain. The rector immediately lifted her gaze, straightening as she closed her grimoire in one fluid motion.

- You’re awake.

- Mmh. Aria swallowed, her throat still dry. Where… am I?

A brief silence followed, then Tissaia answered in a calm tone, tilting her chin up.

- In my chambers.

Aria narrowed her eyes slightly, processing the information. So she hadn’t imagined it. The archmage had answered simply, as if it were an obvious fact.

-That’s… strange.

Tissaia raised a brow slightly.

-Strange? The redhead furrowed her brows, pensive. Thinking was an arduous task; everything was jumbled in her head. She had far more questions than she was capable of articulating at the moment.

- Waking up here, she clarified, her voice still hoarse. In this bed.

Tissaia showed no immediate reaction, but Aria noticed the slight way her jaw tightened.

- I deemed it the safest place for you, she replied calmly.

The young woman observed her, trying to decipher what lay beneath that perfect neutrality. She studied her former mentor’s face, searching for a crack, attempting to read her expression. But the rector remained impassive, unshakable as always.

And yet… Aria wasn’t fooled. She knew too well how the archmage built walls around herself. How she hid the slightest disturbance behind a carefully mastered coldness. And for a brief moment, a faint smile ghosted over her lips. The safest place for her? Safe from what?

She opened her mouth to say something more, but a movement on the bed interrupted her. A small shape pressed against her side. Aria lowered her gaze and saw Nymeria, curled up against her, looking up at her with worried eyes. The bounty hunter felt her heart clench.

- Hey, Sweetheart… she murmured, lifting a trembling hand to stroke the fur that wasn’t yet completely cleaned.

Nym let out a small whimper before climbing quickly onto her chest, rubbing her snout against Aria’s jaw. The mage tensed for a moment. The movement, the weight, the claws. It hurted, yet she still lifted a hand to gently pet her little companion’s head.

- I’m here, I’m okay, she whispered, even if it was only half true.

Tissaia watched the scene in silence before finally standing, setting her grimoire down on her desk.

- You need a bath.

Aria lifted her gaze toward her and narrowed her eyes.

- Are you saying I stink?

- I’m saying you’re covered in blood, sweat, and dirt.

Aria rolled her eyes before glancing at the ceiling. She felt utterly incapable of moving more than she already had. So, washing?

- And so, what’s the plan? You’re going to wash me yourself?

She expected a sharp retort, maybe even an exasperated look, as usual. But silence answered her instead. A heavy silence. Slowly, she lowered her gaze to Tissaia. She was staring at her, expression impassive, yet something unreadable glimmered in her eyes.

The bounty hunter felt a shiver run down her spine and swallowed.

- Wait.

Tissaia tilted her head slightly.

- Wait?

- You’re actually going to do it?

- I’m going to ensure you don’t make unnecessary efforts and reopen your wounds, Tissaia corrected calmly. I don’t trust you to manage that.

Aria studied her, searching for any hint of jest. But of course, Tissaia never joked. Her expression froze, heat rising to her cheeks. She could argue, protest, insist she could handle herself, as she always did. But deep down, a part of her knew she didn’t have the strength. And more than that… she didn’t want to refuse.

So, after a few seconds, she sighed, raising her hands in surrender.

- Alright, Madam Rector. I leave myself in your capable hands.

Tissaia’s gaze lingered on her a fraction too long before she turned away, impassive.

- I’ll prepare the water.

And with that, she walked away, leaving Aria with Nym and the strange warmth settling in her stomach. The young woman watched her older counterpart as she disappeared into the adjoining room, her private bath. Rector’s privilege. A privilege she, too, would taste really soon.

She started to heard the sound of water running, a soothing murmur in the quiet of Tissaia’s quarters. The redhead sighed, feeling her marten shift slightly against her, still pressed to her side. She glanced down at her.

- You smell like a corpse too.

Nym grumbled in protest. Aria let out a tired smile before looking up at the ceiling, trying to analyze the situation.

She would have to let it happen. Tissaia de Vries, the rector, her former mentor, her personal enigma… was going to help her bathe. It was absurd. Completely absurd. And yet, a part of her couldn’t help but find the situation strangely… amusing. None of it made sense. The redhead barely remembered anything before collapsing in that forest, and now she found herself here, in this bed, in a miserable state. All she knew was that every movement was agony, and she didn’t understand the archmage’s actions toward her.

Soft footsteps made her lift her gaze. Tissaia was already back, standing in the doorway, the narrow sleeves of her dress rolled up to her forearms. Aria’s eyes lingered a second too long on the bare skin she had rarely been able to observe. She was sure Tissaia noticed.

- The water is ready, she announced in a neutral tone.

The bounty hunter slowly nodded before shifting slightly under the sheets. She grimaced instantly, a dull pain drawing a small whine from her lips. The brunette stepped closer without a word, offering her hand. Aria studied it for a moment before slipping her fingers into the rector’s, using her to pull herself up.

The touch was warm. Steady. Once seated, she took a deep breath, trying to ignore the throbbing in her muscles. The room spun slightly around her. Nym moved away with a grumble at the disturbance, resuming her grooming in the middle of the bed, clearly not planning on leaving.

Finally, Aria slowly stood, leaning on Tissaia. She was close. Her scent lingered between them, filling her lungs. For a moment, her breath hitched. But Tissaia didn’t waver. She simply wrapped an arm around her waist to help her stand.

The contact sent a shiver through Aria. This wasn’t the first time they had touched. But this… was different. Her former mentor supported her, their bodies pressed together, and the redhead could almost feel the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress. The sensation traveled up her spine.

It wasn’t just the pain, nor the exhaustion. It was Tissaia.

Her presence. Her arm around her waist, the precise way she held her, neither too firm nor too gentle. As if she knew exactly how to keep her upright without ever making her feel weak.

Aria inhaled slowly, trying to suppress the warmth rising within her. She focused, ignoring the pain coursing through her body.

- You’re… surprisingly tactile tonight, she murmured, glancing up at the rector with amusement.

She didn’t even blink.

- You’re surprisingly incapable of walking alone.

Her former student smirked. But her smile faded slightly as they reached the bathroom.

The bathwater was a deep blue, streaked with silver reflections. A light steam rose from the surface, diffusing a soothing scent of medicinal herbs and floral oils. It was enchanted water. No surprise, coming from the archmage. Perhaps it was a habit for her.

And yet, Aria felt a strange warmth in her chest upon realizing that Tissaia had taken the care to add these healing infusions. She parted her lips to say something but stopped herself. She would have plenty of time to tease her later.

For now, she had to get into that damn bath. She cast a glance at Tissaia.

- I suppose this is where you expect me to manage on my own?

Tissaia didn’t respond immediately. Then, in a measured voice:

-Do you want me to let you fall into the water by accident?

Aria hesitated. Then, with a sigh, she extended her hand toward Tissaia again, a shadow of amusement in her eyes.

-Very well, Madam Rector. But if you truly intend to bathe me, you’ll have to make conversation.

Tissaia arched a brow, unimpressed. But she didn’t refuse.

Without a word, she helped her steady herself. A new problem arose for the redhead. She swallowed hard. Her clothes… she had to remove them. Her ears warmed slightly. How ridiculous to react like this. She had never been particularly modest, yet she felt fragile. The young woman shifted slightly out of the archmage’s hold, just enough to move more freely. Her hands trembled slightly, but that was due to the pain, of course, nothing else.

Gently, she moved, trying to strain her muscles as little as possible to avoid the pain, until she could unclasp her brassiere at her back. She wavered for a second, and immediately, cool hands tightened on either side of her ribs, holding her steady. She shivered, finishing removing the fabric without a word.

Moving just as slowly, Aria continued, letting her lower garments slip down to her ankles, her cheeks tinged with pink. What kind of image was she giving of herself? She, who was usually so proud, so provocative, so at ease. In the intimacy of Tissaia’s quarters and the moment itself, all of that seemed to have faded. Even though the older woman had refrained from making any comment throughout the arduous process, Aria could feel it, her burning gaze had not left her nape for even a second.

She exhaled softly and allowed herself to be guided into the warm water, focusing on maintaining her balance so as not to think about Tissaia’s hands holding her like this. A sigh of relief finally escaped her lips as the heat enveloped her, soothing her battered muscles, while the hands supporting her let go as she sank down into the tub. The bounty hunter pulled her legs up under her chin. The bathwater reached just below her shoulders, its cloudy surface providing a small shield from view. She felt a little more at ease, a little less exposed.

The archmage gracefully knelt at the edge of the bath in a single smooth movement, retrieving a clean cloth before dipping it into the water. Her gaze remained unreadable.

Aria watched her for a moment, fascinated by the simple gesture.

- Have you done this often? she asked in a quiet voice, speaking almost more to herself than to the other woman in the room.

Tissaia did not look up.

- Done what?

- Taken care of someone like this…

Aretuza's etiquette you know?

Mist of Chaos (part 3)

A/N: Got few requests about Fanfic with Aria Witcher's AU. I'm not quite used about how tumblr works, so i hope the anonym person who asked me for this prompt will read this! “ tissaia finally finds her but aria is badly beaten up after the fight, so tissaia takes care of her?” I just wanted to add, english is not my first langage, i write first in french and then, i do my best to translate but even if i'm used to read in english i can still do some mistakes! i'm sorry for that ♥

Pairings: OC x Tissaia , also Triss a little

Summary: Aria is Still fainted. Word count: 1421

Warnings: Blood, Fainted body, Severe wounds. Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 ----------------------------

The silence stretched through the room. They had been waiting for a while now, the hours slipping by slowly. Triss had taken refuge near the fireplace, while Tissaia had not moved an inch, her eyes fixed on the motionless figure lying in her bed. The flickering firelight danced across the bounty hunter’s sleeping face, her brows slightly furrowed, still, somehow, in pain.

Nymeria had curled up against Aria once again, nestled against her hip, meticulously grooming herself. The animal hating being dirty. The sounds of her cleaning filled the quiet room, blending with the crackling fire. The other redhead had tried to approach her at one point, but the marten had hissed, refusing to let her touch her. Tissaia had observed the scene with a raised brow, it was rare for an animal to dislike Triss. But perhaps this one was special, after all.

- You can leave if you want, Triss. I won’t keep you here all night.

The rector’s voice broke the silence, making the other woman nearly jump. Triss turned toward the archmage, frowning slightly, but Tissaia wasn’t even looking at her.

-..Are you sure?

No response came. After a quiet sigh, Triss finally rose to her feet, understanding the implicit dismissal. She approached the bed, resting a hand on Aria’s forehead, as if assessing her condition, or perhaps offering silent reassurance. She was beginning to grasp what was unfolding here, but she chose not to comment.

-Alright. But if you need me…

-I know.

And with that, she made her way to the door. Before leaving, she cast a glance at the archmage, still so rigid, hands clenched in the fabric of her dress. Offering a small, knowing smile, she quietly closed the door behind her.

Silence fell again, and Tissaia inhaled deeply, closing her eyes for a brief moment. Everything was too still. The atmosphere wasn’t peaceful, it was suffocating, heavy, thick with an unbearable anticipation that twisted in her gut.

She finally moved, slowly. Her fingers brushed against the sheet before hesitating over Aria’s hand. Her skin was cold, too cold for her liking, despite the warmth of the blankets. The mage tensed. She didn’t like this. Withdrawing her hand, she made a subtle gesture, and the room brightened slightly. The fire in the hearth burned stronger.

Her gaze once again drifted over Aria’s body, taking in the old scars and the fresh wounds still in the process of healing. Bruises were already forming on the visible parts of her skin, especially her face, a testament to the blows she had taken.

But then, her attention fell on the tattoos. Now that Triss was no longer there to witness, the rector allowed herself to linger.

Tissaia examined the inked designs stretching across her skin, still unmoving. They were a delicate, elegant work that clashed with the brutal image Aria often projected. The curve of the flowers followed the line of her arm with unexpected grace, the composition almost resembling an engraving.

She had never wondered why Aria had chosen to get tattooed. It was common to symbolize allegiance to a clan or a particular group. But Aria belonged to neither. Yet, now that she saw the patterns up close, something told her this wasn’t just about aesthetics. It was too simple for her to have done it on a whim.

Her gaze slowly traveled back to Aria’s face.

- What am I going to do with you…? she murmured.

Of course, no answer came.

But just as she was about to finally look away, the young woman shivered, her brows drawing together. A faint whimper slipped past her lips. Tissaia straightened immediately, holding her breath.

-Aria?

She winced, her breathing quickening slightly, her face contorted in discomfort. Her head shifted against the pillow, a rough, pained sound escaping her before consciousness finally clawed its way back to her.

Slowly,so very slowly, Aria’s eyelids fluttered before parting, just slightly, revealing a glimpse of unfocused, dazed blue. She blinked a few times, sluggishly, trying to grasp where she was, why she was in pain. But then, her gaze settled on the blurry silhouette sitting at the foot of the bed.

She seemed to strain, a long moment passing before, barely above a whisper, her voice broke the silence.

-…Tissaia?

Tissaia felt a tension she hadn’t even noticed dissolve within her. The voice was hoarse, wrecked with exhaustion and pain… But it was hers. The rector allowed no visible sign of relief, but her heart picked up its pace.

-Yes, she replied, her voice softer than she had intended. I’m here.

Aria blinked slowly again, clearly struggling to gather her thoughts. Then, in an unconscious gesture, her hand twitched slightly, brushing against Tissaia’s fingers.

-You… came?

A silence settled.

Tissaia could have answered immediately. She could have told her it was obvious, that she was being reckless, that she had worried. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply let the barest trace of her fingers graze Aria’s in return. A minuscule gesture.

-Of course, I came. Otherwise, you would have never made it back.

Aria seemed to fight against the haze, her brows knitting as she struggled to piece together the fragments of her memory. Her gaze flickered downward, taking in her own body, partially hidden beneath the sheets but still marked by dried blood, bandages, and the lingering glow of healing magic. Then, it drifted back up to Tissaia, scrutinizing her face with unsettling focus. As if making sure she was real. As if afraid this was nothing more than a fever dream.

-…How long… How long did it take me to get back? she finally murmured.

Tissaia hesitated for the briefest second before answering.

-A week.

Aria blinked again, absorbing the information.

-A week… she echoed faintly, stunned.

She attempted to move, wanting to sit up. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her, making her whine. Her fingers clenched weakly.

-Don’t move, Tissaia ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Aria groaned in frustration but obeyed, sinking back against the pillow. Her former mentor never took her eyes off her, assessing every minute movement. Then, after a weighted silence, she moved to retrieve the vial Triss had left for her awakening.

-You’re safe now, she said, quieter.

Aria stared at her. Her gaze searched for something, anger? Blame? Some emotion she could grasp? But Tissaia remained unreadable as ever. So, with a tired sigh, Aria let her head fall back, shutting her eyes briefly before muttering:

-You look pissed.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow, turning back toward her, the vial in hand.

-Obviously.

Something in Aria’s chest tightened. The archmage continued.

-You were unconscious for over a day. Triss and I had to close deep wounds. You were in a deplorable state. Now drink this, it will help stabilize the pain.

Aria reopened her eyes, studying her with new seriousness. Her gaze flickered between her face and the potion. She wanted to ask something, but insolence won over.

-I’m still alive, aren’t I?

Tissaia’s lips pressed into a thin line, her expression darkening.

-Barely.

Silence fell once more. Then, slowly, Aria moved her hand, taking the potion. Her fingers brushed against her former mentor’s as she did. She lifted the vial to her lips. As Tissaia returned to her place at the foot of the bed, the liquid passed her throat, it was surprisingly sweet. She had expected something vile, but swallowing wasn’t much of a struggle. Setting the empty flask beside her, she exhaled, her hand dropping limply at her side.

Her gaze fell on the rector’s hand nearby. In the stillness, she hesitated a second, then reached out, sliding her fingers between Tissaia’s in a timid, uncertain motion. Tissaia didn’t move. Her eyes dropped to their intertwined fingers, this fragile, hesitant touch so foreign between them.

Then, after a moment, she withdrew gently, straightening with composed precision.

-Rest, Aria. We’ll talk later.

The redhead gave a faint, weary smile.

-You’re planning to scold me, aren’t you?

The rector merely looked at her. Aria let out a quiet chuckle that quickly turned into a grimace, letting her head fall back, exhaustion taking hold once again. But just before sleep reclaimed her, she murmured, barely audible:

-Thank you.

Tissaia, already reaching to adjust the blankets, paused briefly.

She didn’t reply. She simply pulled the covers over the young woman with an almost imperceptible gentleness.

Then, this time, she pulled a chair closer, settled beside the bed, and reached for one of her grimoires resting on the nightstand.

The goobers having a BEATCH date night!

I've seen other art based on this one so i gived a try 😳

Mist of Chaos (part 2)

A/N: Got few requests about Fanfic with Aria Witcher's AU. I'm not quite used about how tumblr works, so i hope the anonym person who asked me for this prompt will read this! “ tissaia finally finds her but aria is badly beaten up after the fight, so tissaia takes care of her?” I just wanted to add, english is not my first langage, i write first in french and then, i do my best to translate but even if i'm used to read in english i can still do some mistakes! i'm sorry for that ♥

Pairings: OC x Tissaia , also Triss a little

Summary: Tissaia is back with Aria, she needs to heal her, quick. Word count: 1935

Warnings: Blood, Fainted body, Severe wounds. Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 ----------------------------

The shift in atmosphere was drastic. No more wind, no more cold. They were enveloped in a gentle warmth, accompanied by the soft scent of bergamot, jasmine, and old paper. Only the sound of waves crashing against the jetty below the window disturbed the silence. Tissaia barely felt the ground beneath her feet, her entire focus fixed on the limp weight in her arms. She hadn't truly thought it through, her instinct had simply led her to open a portal to her own quarters.

Aria was freezing. Her clothes, soaked with dried blood and mud, clung to her skin, and her red hair was tangled, disheveled, stained with that same sticky substance. Her face was marked with small cuts, likely sustained during her flight through the woods. The scent of iron and dirt masked her usual fragrance. The Rectoress frowned her nose. Her gaze fell on the marten, half-buried in the collar of the redhead’s tunic. The whole scene made for a rather bizarre picture.

A shudder of disgust ran through Tissaia. Not toward them, never, but toward what had been done to them. Toward the brutality of the world Aria stubbornly threw herself into, headfirst. She took in her surroundings, quickly assessing the situation. Her arms were trembling, her former student was too heavy for her, and both portals had drained her chaos reserves, though not dangerously so. It was just a matter of refocusing. Droplets began to fall to the floor beneath the bounty hunter, staining the wood with a reddish hue. She couldn’t afford to wait.

-Triss.

The name cut through the space like an unyielding command. The sorceress had seemed the obvious choice, even if Tissaia wasn’t particularly pleased about it. Moments later, the door to her chambers opened, revealing another red-haired figure in the doorway, her hair damp, clearly interrupted mid-bath.

-If you think that being Tissaia de Vries gives you the right to summon me like that, after vanishing without a wo-

Triss stopped abruptly, her words dying on her lips as she took in the sight of Aria in the rectoress’s arms. Her eyes widened in horror. - By Melitele… - Help me stabilize her. I’ll handle the rest.

Tissaia’s voice was dry, betraying no emotion. The other mage quickly pulled herself together, no time for questions. She moved swiftly, helping to carry Aria to the bed. The bounty huntress didn’t react in the slightest. Nym bristled slightly at the other redhead’s approach but lacked the energy to do anything more. Still, the marten burrowed a little deeper against her mistress’s neck.

Triss passed her hands over Aria, after giving a look at the animal, a golden glow spreading slowly across her wounds. Silence settled over the room, broken only by the rasp of the injured woman’s breathing.

- She’s lost a lot of blood, Triss murmured. But nothing irreversible.

- Of course, nothing irreversible.

Tissaia sat on the edge of the bed, her unwavering gaze fixed on Aria. - I’ll clean her up.

Triss glanced at her sideways, uncertain. - You should rest, Tissaia. I can take her to the infirmary and take care of it-

- No.

The tone was final. Triss hesitated, frowning, before nodding. -Very well. In that case, I’ll fetch some potions. We’ll need them.

She turned toward the door, her movements quick, almost panicked.

- Keep this to yourself, Triss. I called you, not the entire council.

The Rectoress’s voice rang through the room, an order bordering on a threat. The sorceress swallowed before nodding and resumed her stride, leaving Tissaia alone with Aria and Nymeria.

A sigh escaped her as her gaze fell once more upon her former student. Even unconscious, even in such a pitiful state, she remained true to herself, her brows slightly furrowed, as if preparing to argue about something.

—Reckless… Tissaia murmured, brushing damp, blood-matted strands from Aria’s forehead.

But she was here. Alive. And Tissaia intended to make sure she stayed that way. She nearly regretted letting her leave, in the first place. She had given her a little freedom, and the young woman had nearly not returned. It was always like this with Aria, she behaved like a barely tamed wild animal. At that thought, Tissaia’s gaze flickered to Nym, who was watching her every movement with silent judgment.

Another sigh. She straightened, observing the body still clad in those blood-soaked rags. The Archmage clenched her jaw, running a hand over her own face as if to push away the mounting exhaustion. She couldn’t leave those dirty clothes on her. The risk of infection was too big, and she needed to assess the full extent of Aria’s injuries before Triss returned with the potions.

She placed two fingers on the torn corset that served as light armor, tracing the frayed seam, and let her magic seep into the fabric. The material disintegrated in a hushed whisper, crumbling to ashes until it vanished entirely. It was ruined. No point in dwelling on it, and if Aria complained later, Tissaia would deal with it then.

She continued, her fingers moving carefully along the buttons of the redhead’s blouse. Her breathing grew ever so slightly shallower as she worked. Slowly, she undid the fastenings, revealing the pale skin beneath, exposing the wound beneath her ribs.

That was at this precise moment she realized it.

When Aria had left, she had still been that fiery, headstrong young sorceress, always ready to defy authority with an insolent smile. But since she is back here, at Aretuza, Tissaia could feel the change.

She had not taken the time to observe what the years and her adventures had sculpted. But now, in the intimacy of her chambers, in this moment, in the quiet punctuated only by the distant roar of the sea… she had no choice.

Her breath remained measured, but her gaze lingered, despite herself, as she slid the ruined shirt off, revealing a dark undergarment. The marten shifted with the movement, retreating to the edge of the bed.

Tissaia had known Aria’s body—or at least, the one she had when she had left Aretuza. A silhouette refined by magical discipline, a youthful elegance still touched by softness.

But that was not what she saw now. The redhead was… transformed.

Where there had once been softer curves, there was now a form sculpted by training and combat, honed by years of swordplay. Her shoulders were broader, her frame lean but firm with defined muscle. Her arms, which Tissaia had once seen flailing in frustration, now bore sharp lines, her abdomen taut beneath her still-pale skin, marred with scars.

Yet, it was not only the physical change that caught Tissaia’s attention. It was the tattoos.

She had known about them, of course. She had eyes. And Aria had never truly hidden them… But she had never flaunted them either. Likely a rare moment of foresight, imagining the disapproval in Tissaia’s gaze. She had glimpsed them beneath rolled-up sleeves, guessed at them during rare baths in Aretuza. But never had she observed them up THIS close.

Her eyes traveled over Aria’s left arm, adorned with an intricate weave of floral patterns and moths, curling up to her shoulder. But it was when she lowered the fabric further, exposing the redhead’s hip and thigh, that she discovered another one, covering the side of her body, in the same theme.

Her fingers paused momentarily on the edge of a delicate wing before she quickly withdrew. Now was neither the time nor the place for such distractions. Aria was injured. She resumed her work, keeping undressing the bounty huntress. Letting her only with her undergarment, her professionalism taking precedence, at least, that’s what she preferred to believe.

But the image remained, seared into her mind.She was no longer the young student she had once known.

The Archmage took a step back, letting the bloodstained clothes fall to the floor. Aria now lies before her, her body exposed under the dim candlelight, revealing every mark of her past, and more alarmingly, those of her present.

Tissaia forced herself to refocus. The wounds. And only the wounds.

Her gaze swept over the deepest one, the gash on Aria’s left side, still seeping blood. Other bruises, dark and ominous, scattered across her ribs, clear signs that she had taken heavy blows.

She exhaled softly, summoning a basin and a clean cloth with a flick of her fingers. Setting them on the bed, she dipped the cloth into the warm water and began carefully cleansing the battered skin. But, of course, that was precisely the moment Aria chose to stir.

A fractured sigh escaped the redhead, followed by a visible shiver beneath the touch of water. Her lips parted slightly, a faint, nearly imperceptible whimper slipping through.

Tissaia froze.

She held her breath, her eyes snapping up to Aria’s face. Her eyelids twitched, her breathing quickened. An unconscious response, caught somewhere between pain and sleep… Slowly, Tissaia allowed the tension in her shoulders to ease, resuming her task with unwavering precision, erasing every trace of blood, every stain, with methodical care.

She worked with an almost surgical focus, tending first to the deepest, most urgent wounds. When she reached the gash at Aria’s side, she placed her fingers above it and murmured an incantation. A soothing green glow spread over the wound, sealing it with an almost imperceptible gentleness.

At that moment, a sound came from behind her. The door creaked open.

-I brought the potions, Triss announced as she entered.

Tissaia did not turn immediately. But she felt the weight of Triss’s gaze sweeping over the scene. Aria, half-naked on the bed, now clean but covered in scars, her tattoos laid bare under the golden flicker of candlelight. The Archmage, seated at her bedside, a damp cloth still in her hand, one palm resting against Aria’s bare skin, focused entirely on her healing.

The silence that followed was almost… loud.

-Oh.

A single word, laced with surprise and the faintest trace of amusement.

Tissaia’s sharp gaze lifted instantly. Triss swallowed down a smirk, clearly aware she was treading dangerous ground. She stepped fully into the room, nudging the door shut with her foot. Her arms were filled with vials of all shapes and colors.

-You were too slow. I couldn’t wait for you. She needed treatment immediately, Tissaia stated, her tone brooking no argument.

-Of course.

Triss approached, handing her a potion, then added, a little too lightly:

-It’s always a bit strange, the first time. Isn't it?

Tissaia raised a brow, feigning ignorance.

-What are you referring to?

-Her… ‘new’ body.

Tissaia inhaled slowly. It was true, since Aria’s return, she had also spent a great deal of time with Triss. Of course she showed them to her friend.

-If you have time to waste on pointless observations, Triss, I suggest you spend it elsewhere.

The ginger chuckled softly, setting the remaining vials on the desk in front of the bed, before returning to sit at the edge of the mattress, near Aria’s head. The healing magic had done its work; the situation was no longer as dire. She lifted a hand to barely touch the skin of her exposed arm.

-I understand. But I do note that you didn’t deny it.

Tissaia ignored her completely, merely taking the potion and considering it for a moment before turning her attention back to the unconscious bounty hunter.

-She needs to drink this as soon as she wakes?

-Yes, now we wait, Triss concluded, a knowing smile playing on her lips.

Tissaia remained silent, her gaze fixed on Aria. But the weight of her thoughts was unmistakable

I was a little too determined for this one bahahah, Nym' is living her best life!

Mist of Chaos (part 1)

A/N: Got few requests about Fanfic with Aria Witcher's AU. I'm not quite used about how tumblr works, so i hope the anonym person who asked me for this prompt will read this! “ tissaia finally finds her but aria is badly beaten up after the fight, so tissaia takes care of her?” I just wanted to add, english is not my first langage, i write first in french and then, i do my best to translate but even if i'm used to read in english i can still do some mistakes! i'm sorry for that ♥

Pairings: OC x Tissaia

Summary: Aria went missing from the first bounty Tissaia allowed her to go after her came back, and the rector is worried. Word count: 1486

Warnings: Blood, Dead bodies, Fainted body, Severe wounds. Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 ----------------------------

One week. It had been one week since she had left. Tissaia had finally agreed to let her take a bounty.The ginger needed a change of pace, after all those years on the road, being locked up again for over a month within Aretuza’s walls was driving her insane. She needed something to take her mind off, to step away from their research on the artifact, and besides, her sword was itching.

As chaotic as she was, the rector had grown accustomed to having her former student around her again, throughout her daily routine, and, in the end, she had to admit that not hearing from her for this long had stirred a faint worry in her heart. Tissaia drummed her fingers nervously against the parchment she was reading, her eyes fixed on the paper, though she had long since lost track of its contents. She had laid out clear rules, yet Aria had never been particularly skilled at following them. Or rather, she always had a knack for interpreting them in her own way...

A short mission, no more than three days. Simple enough, wasn’t it? She had assured her she wouldn’t do anything reckless. But the archmage had to accept that miscalculations were possible. Even so, that didn’t excuse her from sending a magical missive to keep her informed. Tissaia exhaled, lifting her gaze to stare out the window. Noon had long passed. She had a reputation to maintain, a certain detachment to uphold, but she had to admit it: she was worried. Perhaps, deep down, she feared losing her again, as she had until Aria's return to Aretuza. But that... she was too proud to assume it.

The only thing that reassured her was that she could still feel the faint vibration of the mage’s Chaos. She knew Aria kept her power concealed, suppressing her true strength to appear as any ordinary sorceress. But even that did little to ease her mind.

Finally, she straightened, closing her eyes in concentration. She shouldn’t do this, Aria was a grown woman; but her instincts urged her to ensure everything was alright. Her mind sharpened as she called out to the redhead silently. At first, there was only darkness. Tissaia’s hands clenched on her lap, crumpling the fabric of her robe. Then, faint blue sparks crackled, tracing a path she followed mentally. The first images began to take shape, slowly.

Her brows knitted together, and the scent of blood caught in her throat.

Tissaia froze. Bodies. Nilfgaardians, at least a dozen, strewn across the ground. A ravaged village. Smoke, still rising from the ruins. No sign of the bounty huntress. Had she walked into a trap, or was she merely at the wrong place at the wrong time? Her heart barely quickened as her gaze caught a fluffy tail darting into an alleyway. Nymeria. She opened her eyes. That was enough. She had waited too long already.

She exhaled sharply through clenched teeth. -Foolish, reckless girl who thinks she’s invincible.

With a sweeping motion, she focused, recalling the details of what she had seen and what Aria had told her before leaving. Chaos crackled around her, and the rector opened a portal.

The stench struck her immediately, making her stomach lurch. Metal and burned flesh. The echoes of slaughter still lingered in the air, as if the violence had only just subsided. She didn’t bother masking her distaste, this was all too familiar, and no less unbearable.

Tissaia stepped forward, gliding between the bodies, holding her breath, her cloak brushing against pools of coagulated blood. It was cold. A hollow wind carried the scent of ashes. Her eyes scanned everything at a furious pace, seeking any trace of Aria’s Chaos. But in the end, she simply called out, confident the danger had passed.

-Aria?

It wasn’t a shout, more of a quiet summon, as if she were nearby. But silence was the only answer. She pressed on until the smallest flicker of movement caught her attention to the left. The rector turned her head, her gaze landing on the small, curled-up figure of a marten, huddled near the lifeless body of a horse, trying to make itself as small as possible.

Wide, terrified black eyes locked onto hers. At the sight of Tissaia, the creature recoiled, poised to flee, as if she were yet another threat. Its fur was matted with mud and blood, but there was no mistaking it. There couldn’t be another. Tissaia took a step toward her, but the creature bristled, its filthy fur standing on end.

-Nym’!

The name carried authority. The marten froze, recognizing the voice. A few beats passed, then, in a blur of movement, she darted toward Tissaia, emitting soft, frantic noises, half-whimper, half-relief. She pressed herself against her feet, stumbling over the hem of her robes, dirtying them in the process.

Tissaia bent down, scooping her up. She had no idea what state she’d find Aria in, why care about a ruined dress now? The battlefield had already sealed its fate.The archmage examined the trembling creature in her arms, feeling the way she clung to her sleeve, burying her quivering nose into the crook of her elbow. What happened here?

Then, an idea struck her. She had never attempted this spell on an animal, but it seemed the only efficient option. She closed her eyes, fingers barely grazing the marten’s front head, like a silent request.

Nymeria rested her head against Tissaia’s palm. The response surprised her. Perhaps she was smarter than she had assumed.

-Show me.

A fleeting but potent connection. The images came in broken flashes.

The battle. Aria, swift, lethal, cutting through soldiers like a storm. The blue flare of her magic, the glint of her sword. Then, the abrupt shift. Pain. Her stance faltering, her body collapsing into the mud. A bloodied hand clenching at her side.

Alive. Wounded. But alive.

Nym lifted her head, suddenly mooving, breaking the contact and leaping from Tissaia’s grasp. She scurried forward, stopped, glanced back expectantly. The archmage didn’t hesitate. She followed.

The marten led her out of the village, which reassured her somewhat, it meant that the redhead had been able to drag herself away. The wind rushed through the trees, whispering lamentations among the branches. Night was falling slowly, draping the forest in a damp veil of shadows, thickening the air with a silent menace.

The rector moved quickly, her senses sharp. She wasn’t sure whether it was anger or worry that pulsed more fiercely through her veins. Nym darted ahead of her, vanishing into the darkness at times, only to reappear, her fur matted with dirt and ashes. The marten would sometimes pause to sniff the ground, then turn to Tissaia with an almost impatient air, as if she believed Aria’s former mentor wasn’t moving fast enough for her liking, before pressing on.

The scent of blood was still there. But there was something else, a fainter trace, a thread of chaos, one she knew by heart. She latched onto it, her fingers clenching slightly. She never let emotions dictate her decisions. Never. But this time… this time, she could feel anger mingling with her concern, and she did not like it.

Aria.

The name pulsed through her mind like an unspoken call, but once again, only emptiness answered.

The scene around her was grim. Trees, split open by magic. Scorch marks seared into the ground. A lingering whisper of a battle still trembling in the air. Nym veered abruptly into a denser thicket. Tissaia followed. And then, there she was.

Curled on her side, half-submerged in mud, one hand still wrapped around her sword’s hilt. Strands of red hair clung to her bloodstained face. Her breathing was weak, uneven. Tissaia knelt immediately, fingers pressing against her throat. A pulse. Faint, but steady.

-By the gods, Aria…

She didn’t waste time. A hand to her forehead, magic flowing, a sharp yet careful probe assessing the damage. A deep wound in her side. Substantial blood loss. But no poison. Nothing she couldn’t fix.

Her gaze lingered on Aria’s drawn features, the slight furrow of her brow even in unconsciousness.

-You drive me mad… she murmured, barely a whisper. How have you survived all these years alone.

Carefully, she slipped one arm beneath her back, the other beneath her knees. The effort was not insignificant. Aria no longer had the frail body of a student, and the height difference did her no favors. Not to mention the weight of her leather armor.

The wind howled through the trees as she stood, holding Aria against her. Nymeria, swift as ever, scrambled onto her shoulder, nestling against her mistress’ neck. Tissaia’s grip tightened around the unconscious body in her arms. Without a second glance at the battlefield, she opened a portal and stepped through, taking Aria far from the cold night. There was no time to waste.

I can! ♥

Thank you!! Here we go! She got the leg privilege after Tissaia got hurt in a fight! I'm sorry, i'm freaking slow with those ask! I'm trying my best to make them in order as fast as i can but i must deal with my commissions first and i'm a little sick right now (just a cold don't worrie!) Thank you for all your requests and questions, it warms my heart ♥

Why choose when we can have both? 😏

Here we go! ♥ To me, Tissaia is an hardworking woman and she can't stand being "weak" ahah

Have few actually! Sorry i was so lazy to draw them... I hope a list is okay!! During her studies:

During the years apart:

Now/Since Aria is back at Aretuza: