He love you. Iorveth knew, and he wanted to rip his heart out and give it to the stray dogs of Flotsam to tear it apart because sometimes the feeling within him was unbearable. Disgust. Shame. Months spent drowning in those feelings, like the poison of the Bleeding Heart flower. The most regretful thing, not killing you, shooting you, an arrow in your beating, so fragile heart. Love, he slipped just at the thought of it. He became more and more cruel, pushing it down. Because being in love with a dh'oine was like going against everything he was fighting for. Iorveth was deeply involved in the struggle for elven rights and independence. A relationship with a human could be seen as a betrayal or a political liability, potentially undermining Iorveth's cause and position. And now you were here, in front of them.

The rain was cruel, falling against the ruined mansion stones, the forest hissing. Arrows pointed at your broken body as you weakly reached out, hands stretching, holding up a basket filled with food. Bread, wet and useless, offered to him. He smacked the basket from your hand, venom tasting his mouth as you tensed. No, he couldn't show it. Show the love he tried to digest when you were in front of him, broken, pleading for help because Bernard Loredo did it again. He would hurt you, and he was everywhere in Flotsam.

Iorveth looked over you, then without words, he turned around, back showing to you as he whistled to the Scoia'tael, and he began to move. He couldn't be a liability nor betray his kind. This was his finishing stroke, to him and to you. And he kept his distance because he knew he couldn't have you. He stopped, looking at you over his shoulder.

"You think offering me bread will change anything?" he sneers, his voice colder than the rain. "Leave, before I decide your life isn't worth the trouble."

"I need your help." you whispered, voice cracking.

"No." For a moment, he hesitated, his heart clenching painfully. "Be strong, or be nothing." Please