Dol Blathanna, 1240
Robin woke slowly, blinking her eyes rapidly to try and clear her head. She soon realized that her arms were tied above her, so she tugged, but to no avail. The ropes were tight.
"Are you all right, little mage?" Geralt's deep voice greeted her.
She looked down. He and Jaskier were tied together, their backs touching, on the floor of the cave they had been taken to. Geralt was facing her, struggling to get their bonds undone.
"I think so," she replied, trying to focus.
Maybe she could get them free if she just concentrated hard enough.
"Hello, dear sister," Jaskier sang from behind Geralt. "This is the part where we escape, no?" he asked the witcher blithely.
"This is the part where they kill us," Geralt spat, his eyes flicking worriedly to Robin.
There was a mark on her cheek where she'd been hit, and he was livid.
"Who's they?" Jaskier wondered.
Robin couldn't fault the question. She'd been wondering the same thing.
Two elves came into the cave at that precise moment. One, a tall, red-haired, very angry woman, kicked Geralt in the face. The other picked up Jaskier's lute and started to strum it.
"Elves," Geralt muttered.
"That's my lute!" Jaskier protested. "Give that back. Quick, Geralt, do your, your... witchering..."
"Shut up!" Geralt yelled, struggling harder as the red-haired elf moved over to Robin.
"Maybe I hurt your woman in front of you, no?" she threatened.
As the elf grabbed her arm roughly, Robin felt her skin heat up. "I wouldn't if I were you," she murmured, though she was not at all displeased to be thought of as Geralt's woman, at least.
"Why is that such a common threat?" Geralt sneered. "Do not touch her!" he repeated his earlier warning.
The elf said something in Elder, which Robin could read, but not speak. Her brother, however, seemed to understand. "My Elder speech is rough, so I only got part of that," Jaskier replied sarcastically.
"Humans, shut up!" the elf explained sternly, kicking Geralt in the knee.
Jaskier said something in Elder as the elf spoke to Geralt. "Do you want to die right now?" she asked.
"As opposed to later?" he grumbled.
She kicked Jaskier in the chest.
Robin twisted, hating that her magic only seemed to protect her. It was no good if she couldn't protect others as well, as far as she was concerned.
"Leave off!" Geralt roared. "He's just a bard!"
The elf returned to hitting Geralt, punching him in the face repeatedly as the other elf broke Jaskier's lute in half.
"You hide in your caves!" Jaskier accused. "You beat a bound man, too scared to even look him in the eye!"
Robin was impressed with her little brother's bravery. He was stupid to be brave, perhaps, but it was admirable, nevertheless.
Blood dripped from Geralt's mouth as the elf raised his chin to make another snide comment. He smacked her with his forehead and Jaskier laughed.
The elf fell backward and started to wheeze and his laughter died. "Wait, what's wrong with her?"
"She's sick," another voice joined in.
It belonged to a blond elf who had just entered the cave. The sylvan from earlier was trailing behind him.
"And who's this?" Jaskier added.
The sylvan answered. "He's Filavandrel, king of the elves."
The elf waved off the title as he tended to his companion.
"You were stealing for them," Geralt realized, starting to put the situation together.
The sylvan nodded, then turned to the red-haired elf, who was still sitting on the ground. "Toruviel, no one was supposed to get hurt," he reminded her.
But she didn't seem to care.
"You can let my companions go," Geralt suggested quietly.
Filavandrel shook his head. "Then they'll know that we've been stealing," he argued. "The humans will attack. Many will die on both sides."
Blood ran down into the cleft on Geralt's chin as he spoke. "The lesser evil," he mused. "No matter what you choose, you will end up bloody and hating yourself. Trust me."
Filavandrel replied that he couldn't, and that humans were responsible for all of their pain. Robin shook her head as he blamed them for changing Chaos, the invisible maelstrom that covered the world and allowed magic to function.
"Chaos is the same as it's always been," Geralt disagreed. "Humans just adapted better."
For the first time, Robin realized that he probably had some latent magical ability of his own, if he could feel Chaos in that manner. It was just so buried under his supernatural nature and his mutations that she hadn't sensed it.
The elf king tried to tell him he was wrong, but Geralt shook his head. "You are choosing to starve," he told him bluntly. "You're cutting off your ear to spite your face."
Filavandrel proceeded to give a grand speech about the injustices humans had wrought upon elves. Robin knew that nothing he said was wrong. The elves had been horribly mistreated and then culled by humans.
But she also knew Geralt was right. Their anger didn't change the reality of their situation, no more than it had changed hers a decade ago when her father had sent her to Melcedem's tower. Her suffering didn't hold a candle to the suffering of an entire race, of course, but the principle was the same.
"If I bring my people down from these mountains," the elf king finished, "it would mean bowing to human sovereignty. They'll make slaves of us. Pariahs of half-blood children."
There was sympathy in Geralt's next words. "Then go somewhere else," he implored him. "Rebuild. Get strong again. Show the humans that you are more than what they fear you to be."
Filavandrel laughed bitterly. "Like you, witcher?"
The words resonated with Robin. She had known that Geralt was different before they had even met, but to hear his conviction spoken aloud was quite an experience.
"I have learned to live with them," Geralt revealed, his eyes moving to her again. "Some better than others. So that I may live."
Jaskier was silent. Robin couldn't see his face, but she guessed that he was listening intently.
Toruviel stood and voiced her opinion. She wanted them dead.
Filavandrel drew a knife, about to follow through, when the sylvan intervened on their behalf.
"The witcher could've killed me," it reminded the elf king. "But he didn't. He's different. Like us."
Filavandrel looked at Torque, considering his words, then stared at Geralt.
"If you must kill me," the witcher decided, sounding resigned, "I am ready. But the sylvan's right. Don't call me human. And spare them," he begged, glancing between Robin and Jaskier as best he could, considering his position. "You have nothing to fear from them. They are outcasts from humanity as well."
"Oh, how kind of you to say," Jaskier finally chimed in, his voice strained.
"Geralt, no," Robin whispered.
She willed her magic to surge. To save them. To do anything at all.
But it did nothing. She was filled with power, and yet utterly helpless.
Filavandrel made his choice suddenly, cutting Geralt and Jaskier's bonds quickly with his knife. Geralt was up and moving to her instantly.
He loosened her ropes and set her free, grabbing her elbows and drawing her to him. "Are you all right, little mage?" he asked once more, resting his forehead against hers.
She nodded. "I'm fine, Geralt. I'm sorry I wasn't of more use."
He shook his head soothingly. "You did well. I'm proud of you."
She smiled up at him as he gently kissed her lips. His were still bloody from his beating, but she didn't mind one bit.
Jaskier stood. "I'm fine as well, thank you. Do I get a kiss?"
He picked the pieces of his broken lute up off of the floor and sighed. "Well, this is a problem," he muttered.
"I'm sorry about that," Filavandrel said sincerely. "Music is one of life's greatest pleasures."
He reached into one of the many boxes of supplies stored in the cave and withdrew another lute. It was much nicer than Jaskier's. Robin could tell.
"Please, take this one as a replacement. And an apology," Filavandrel offered.
Geralt nodded, grabbing Jaskier's doublet and pulling him as he gawked at the instrument the elf king had just placed in his hands. "Thank you. We'll be going now."
He herded them out of the cave swiftly, not wanting to spend another moment there. At the mouth, he turned back and threw something at the elf king.
It jingled as he caught it, and Robin realized it was everything Geralt had been paid to rid the area of their devil.
As they walked back down to where they had left Roach, Geralt carrying Robin since her skirt kept getting stuck in the grass, Jaskier began to reflect on what had just happened.
"Credit where credit is due," he admitted. "That whole reverse psychology thing you did on them was brilliant, by the way."
His fear had faded and he was jovial once again. Robin was glad to see that he had a quick recovery time.
"Kill me. I'm ready," Jaskier imitated Geralt gruffly.
She smiled, but Geralt just raised an eyebrow at him in wonder. "Did you learn nothing at all?" he rasped.
"An interesting conclusion," Jaskier confessed, ignoring Geralt's question. "They just let us go, and you gave all of the coin to them."
"Is the lute not gift enough for you?" Geralt wondered as they reached Roach.
He lifted Robin astride the horse and mounted behind her after untying the reins. Jaskier fell into step beside them as they continued slowly on.
Jaskier chuckled. "She is a bit sexy, isn't she?"
"It's a she?" Robin joked, winking at her brother.
Geralt's arm was tight around her waist, like he was loath to let her go after what had happened.
"With these curves? Of course."
He winked back at her and started to hum to himself. Within moments, he was singing a verse, clearly experimenting with the lyrics and music.
"No," he muttered. "No, that's... shit."
"I do respect Filavandrel, you know," he observed, his brow furrowed as he thought. "He survived once. Who knows? Maybe he can do it again."
He pulled the lute down from across his back and strummed it, his eyes almost rolling back into his head at the dulcet sound it made.
Robin watched and listened, entranced as the words began to pour out of her brother in a beautiful melody.
He was certainly taking liberties. She was content to listen, but Geralt stopped him.
"That's not how it happened," he protested. "Where's your newfound respect?"
Jaskier smiled. "Respect doesn't make history, Geralt."
Robin laughed. "Jaskier's right," she told him, tipping her head back against his chest. "People like a good story, and the truth isn't always enough. It's too bleak. There has to be hope, and a lesson."
"You taught me that, dear sister."
Jaskier bowed to her, then continued playing and singing.
Geralt gazed down at her. "I don't like it."
"I don't expect you to. No one much likes the truth."
He chuckled and sat for another moment, then nodded.
"Hm."
He bent and kissed her softly. "Let's go find a place to stay for the night."
"I'd like that."
He flicked the reins and they followed Jaskier, listening as his song filled the valley ahead of them.