Kyana Of Cintra

30

Geralt's eyes had been raking Kyana's legs ever since she walked in. The trousers were almost painful to look at, especially when she wore them like a million Crown garment. Thankfully, Geralt didn't have to worry about covering up. The water he resided in was almost as dirty as he was, and therefore kept his modesty.

"So apparently you won't let Jaskier touch your hair." Kyana teased, selecting of a few vials of scented liquids to use for his hair. She could all but hear the smile fighting it's way onto his features.

"Can you blame me? Look at the state of his own hair."

"Hey!" Jaskier yelled, offended.

Kyana laughed gently, pulling up a stool to sit behind Geralt's head. She had chosen the mint scents in the end; they reminded her of how wild and feral he was.

"You're just a wuss that doesn't want to admit he likes his hair." Kyana commented whimsically, opening the vial and tipping the scents into her hands, rubbing them together. Kyana slipped her hands under his hair, pulling the locks upwards to wipe out the smell of guts and replace it with mint.

Geralt hummed, allowing his head to be tilted backwards as his eyes closed. Her hands were so gentle; providing him with the soothing and relaxation he needed, instead of the harshness Jaskier began with.

"Yes, and this is coming from the Witcher who braids strands of her hair like an Elvish toddler." Geralt remarked teasingly, chuckling so low it sounded as though thunder rumbled in his chest as Kyana pushed at his shoulder to scold him. Humming sweetly, she gently used a small cup to tip water into his head and clean his hair. Jaskier, however, was not so gentle, settling for throwing the bucket of water at Geralt's face. He grunted, half at the heat of the water and half at it being on his face in the first place.

"Now, now, stop your boorish grunts of protest. It's one night body guarding your very best friend in the whole wide world, how hard can it be?" Kyana let out a small, amused huff, inaudible to the bard. Pouring more water onto Geralt's head, she coaxed the small band out of his hair, leaving all of the tied back locks free to fall in his face. Noticing his annoyance at them, she pulled them from his face, tucking them behind his ears before resuming her task.

"I'm not your friend." Kyana remained silent. Over the past couple of years since the Striga, she and Jaskier had kept in contact, and were close friends.

"Oh, really? So you usually just let strangers rub chamomile onto your lovely bottom?" Kyana snorted while holding back a laugh, the back of her hand moving to keep her mouth closed as she fought the sound Geralt adored.

Geralt gave Jaskier the 'what the fuck' look, which was completely ignored. "Yeah well, exactly." Having proved his point, and after Kyana had regained her posture, she managed to look up at Jaskier with a forced straight face.

"Did you just call Geralt's ass lovely?" Jaskier, who had only now caught the weight of his words, replied hastily.

"I meant it only in jest." Kyana rose an eyebrow, humming in disbelief. "Oh don't you start humming, that's all Geralt ever does, you'd swear he's a humming bird for god's sake." Kyana tried to resist, but simply couldn't.

"A humming bird with a lovely ass." She burst out laughing, Jaskier's cheeks turned red at both embarrassment and the realization that this wouldn't be the end of his joke. Geralt thought it was funny, a wide and rare smile of his own gracing his features.

"Anyway." Jaskier cleared his throat, trying to divert the subject. "Every lord, knight and twopenny king worth his salt will be at this betrothal. The Lioness of Cintra herself will sing the praises of Jaskier's triumphant performance!" Jaskier threw a pinch of herbs into the bath, which Geralt looked unimpressed at. Kyana paused at the mention of the queen, mild panic bubbling in her stomach, before she resumed her task, pushing her feelings to the back of her mind.

"How many of these lords want to kill you?" Jaskier's facade immediately dropped.

"Hard to say, one stops keeping count after a while." Geralt gave him an unimpressed look, slightly annoyed by his stupidity. "Wives, concubines, mothers sometimes. Ooh, yeah, that face! Scary face! No lord in his right mind will come close if you're standing next to me with a puss like that." Geralt, already tired of Jaskier's antics, reached for the wine. "Ooh, on second thoughts - might want to lay off the Cintran ale, a clear head would be best." Jaskier pulled the cup away, patting Geralt's shoulder.

"Tread carefully, Jaskier." Kyana warned, brushing through Geralt's hair with soaped hands.

"I will not suffer tonight sober just because you hid your sausage in the wrong royal pantry." Kyana slapped his arm for his crudeness, which made him want to do it all the more, knowing she disapproved. "I'm not killing anyone. Not over the petty squabbles of men."

"Yes yes, you never get involved, except you actually do, all the time." Geralt's head shot back to glare heatedly at Jaskier, however noticing he had disturbed Kyana's work, and sat back once more.

"Is this what happens when you get old? You get unbearably crochety and cantankerous? Actually, I've always wanted to know, do Witchers ever retire?" Kyana rolled her eyes. Even for Jaskier, tonight he was really being insufferable.

"Yeah, when they get too slow and get killed." She answered bluntly, tying the ends of Geralt's hair back how they were. She didn't know his hair could be this brilliantly white and fluffy, even in the seven years she had known him, it was always covered in dirt or grease or something that took away from the beauty it was now.

"Come on, you must want something for yourself once all this monster hunting nonsense is over with." Geralt, whose head tilted back lightly to watch Kyana fold towels, replied quickly.

"I want nothing." His stony voice didn't even reach Kyana's ears, as she was too focused on humming and folding. Jaskier noticed his gaze, looking back and forth between the pair.

"Well, who knows? Maybe someone out there will want you." Jaskier said optimistically, leaning his forearms on the bath and hoping Geralt would see that he was talking about Kyana. Geralt, being the oblivious donkey that he is, didn't notice at all, instead becoming defensive.

"I need no one. And the last thing I want is someone needing me." Kyana had stopped humming so freely. She did need him, he was her friend, although both of them could live without the other, she didn't want to. Was she just someone he strung along for the company? She had always assumed he wanted her there, maybe she was wrong? Kyana suddenly became very insecure.

Jaskier noticed her posture change, hoping against all hope that Geralt would too.

He didn't.

Instead, his head whipped back and forth, looking for his clothes. "Where the fuck are my clothes, Jaskier?"

"Ah. Well, uh, they were sort of covered in selkiemore guts, so I sent them away to be washed. Anyway, you're not going tonight as a Witcher, and neither are you Kyana, so don't you dare go looking for leathers."

Kyana huffed, walking towards the door. Both men could see her, watching as her arms rose to tie back her hair lazily, the rim of the shirt rising and teasing the base of her hips.

"I'll wear what I like, Jaskier. I have my bag." Jaskier looked guilty as sin. "Jaskier, what have you done with my bag?"

"Um, I may have um, 'accidentally' sent it with your clothes." For the first time in years, Kyana and Geralt held the exact same look of pure annoyance with Jaskier.