Kyana Of Cintra

18

"Leave off!" Kyana demanded. "He's just a bard." the she-elf rolled her eyes at Kyana, distain rolling off her features.

"Then you will take his place." She grabbed a fistful of the beautiful hair on top of Kyana's head, wrenching it upwards to deliver short, clear punches into Kyana's face. Kyana's eyes closed at the impact as her head reared backwards into the wall, again and again. 

"Leave her be!" Geralt tried again against the ropes, trying to pull as strongly as he could. He had been in many situations where he was desperate, never before had he been this desperate to help someone. His eyes conveyed all of it, the sympathetic need to help, the emotional pain of watching it while his eyebrows furrowed in his struggle for freedom. Kyana met his eyes gently, blood trickling from her eyebrow and nose, but average calmness and gentleness in her eyes.

"It's okay." Came her light whisper that tore him to pieces.

"You don't deserve the air you breathe. Everything you touch you destroy." The she-elf looked as though she was about to burst into tears, although she channeled her anger by landing her most forceful kick yet into Kyana's sternum, effectively breaking two of her ribs.

"I know." Kyana agreed softly. It broke Geralt's heart. The lute was snapped in two, another punch was delivered, until blood started to drop from Kyana's mouth. Kyana's eyes started to drift downwards as her brain shut down. Every hit that was delivered was a step closer to falling unconscious. 

The she-elf recognized it, seen as she didn't want her free from her pain, as she would be if she fainted, just yet. The she-elf halted in her brutality. Kyana's head hung low, pain seeping from every pore in her face. Geralt continued to attempt to scramble towards her, to no avail.

"You hide in your golden palaces. You beat a bound woman in front of her husband, too scared to even look her in the eye." Jaskier all but yelled, anger and venom seeping into his tone. Swollen-lipped, Kyana smiled. Who knew the bard had a protective streak?

"Do you like my palace? Hmm?" The she-elf asked Jaskier, moving back towards Kyana, gripping onto her chin to lift it and looking her in the eye as Jaskier had mocked. "Does it live up to the tales you humans tell?"

Kyana scoffed. "Fuck no." She said, before slamming her forehead into the elf's nose. The elf went tumbling backwards, groaning herself in surprise. Geralt smiled proudly and restrained a chuckle, while Jaskier let out a loud laugh that ripped through the somber silence.

"Yeah, take that pointy." Kyana's lips molded together as she spat out her own blood.

"You're enjoying this aren't you Jaskier." Kyana stated amusedly. Although she couldn't see it, she could sense Jaskier's smile.

"Maybe just a little." The elf started to bleed, coughing harshly and showing no signs of stopping. "Wait, what's wrong with her? You didn't hit her that hard did you?"

Kyana shook her head, eyes wide with surprise at the damage she had caused. "No, I didn't, not nearly as hard as she hit us. Why is she bleeding?"

"Because she's sick." Said a man, who had arrived with Torque. He wore a black cloak that flowed from his shoulders to the floor, and possessed shiny blonde hair. 

"Oh, and who's this?" Jaskier asked loudly, catching Torque's attention.

"He's Filavandrel, King of the Elves." Torque stated, as though he were almost offended they didn't know who this 'King' was. Kyana rolled her eyes. Why would a king live here with a sick elf, no servants, no guards, and a Sylvan?

"Not a king, not by choice." Kyana shrugged, truly uncaring if he was a king or not, she just wanted out of the ropes and back outside.

"Choice is an illusion." Kyana stated pessimistically, whipping her head to the side to flick her hair over her shoulder. Jaskier's head reeled back slightly.

"Alright, when did Kyana become a conspiracy theorist?"

"Back when you got knocked out by a ball."

Geralt rolled his eyes at their playful banter, but he was relieved to hear Kyana sounding normal and unscathed, even if half of her face was a bloody, bruised mess. "You were stealing for them." Geralt deduced, looking towards Torque and Filavandrel, who was huddled over the she-elf as she calmed from her rather irritating coughing fit.

"I felt for them. They were forced out of Dol Blathana." Jaskier began to protest, knowing the ballad well. He was there when his friend had written it, and he even offered to pay for the lyrics. 

"Forced out? No, they chose-"

"Do you know anyone that would choose to leave their home? To starve? To have a Sylvan steal for them?" Filavandrel stated poisonously. "Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt." Filavandrel scolded her slightly. 

Toruviel scoffed. "What's three humans in the ground when countless elves have died?" She justified. Geralt rolled his golden eyes.

"One human. And you can let him go." Jaskier was touched by Geralt's sudden gesture of kindness towards him, even if it was made in the moment they were probably about to die, but he'd take it.

"Then Pasoda will learn that we've been stealing. The humans will attack. Many will die on both sides." Filavandrel said ominously, clearly expecting the worst.

"The lesser evil." Geralt said ironically. Kyana huffed. If she had to hear that sentence one more time she swore she would cut the head from the person who said it. "No matter what you choose, you'll come out bloody and hating yourself. Trust me." Geralt was completely accurate, which scared the elf before him.

"That's the problem. I can't. This is necessary." Filavandrel insisted, leaning down to look Geralt in the eye when he spoke.

"I understand. As long as you understand that it won't be long before you follow me in death."  Kyana grunted and muttered her reply.

"Kill him and you'll follow him sooner still" Geralt glanced at her, resisting the urge to smile. She had shown how much she cared for Geralt in this situation, and although he knew inwardly she did like his company, he wouldn't ask for the reassurance he needed from this experience.

"Yes, because they pushed us from viable soil. Even chaos is polluted. Synthetically enhanced so humans can make magic." Geralt met his eyes.

"Chaos is the same as it as always been. Humans just adapted better." He replied wisely, relaying the words Vesemir had taught him while he was still learning.

"You say adapt, I say destroy." Geralt looked Filavandrel up and down, closely deducing what his current situation may be.

"You are choosing to starve." He concluded, defiance lingering in his golden eyes. "You're cutting off your ear to spite your face." Fury graced across Filavandrel's expression.

"You think this is about pride? My elders worked with humans and got robbed of all they had. And when they fought back, they were slaughtered. 'The Great Cleansing', humans call it. I called it digging a mass grave for everyone I loved. And now the humans proudly watch these very fields grow, our babies fertilizer for their grain. I don't wish to bury anyone else. I was once Filavandrel of the Silver Towers. Now I'm Filavandrel of the Edge of the World. If I bring my people down from these mountains, it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They'll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children." he spat, clearly angry and upset with his history when regarding humans.

"Then go somewhere else. Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be." Kyana implored, having known the feeling of fear as she ran away, aimlessly seeking shelter. Filavandrel turned to her sharply.

"Like you, Witcher?" Kyana smiled coyly, yet truthfully.

"I learned to live with them, so that I may live. If you wish to make an impact on humans, you chose the only two people that they would cheer in the streets to have gone."