[A/N]: Song title comes from Tesseract's song "Proxy".

Where once hatred used to be, now only pity remained. Wherever she went, elves either looked away so they could not glare at her, or shot worried looks her way. Most simply evaded her, not knowing how to act. After all, she had, as the humans liked to say, 'taken one for the team'. That made her part of them, though they still felt uncomfortable with her presence.

Gwen hated it. It disgusted her. She wanted them to scowl and hate, wanted them to snap and sneer at her. She knew how to react to that, knew how to defend herself against a verbal attack. This, however, she had no idea what to do with.

She continued to treat everyone with as much disdain as before, but got nothing in return. When Aderyn joined her in her tree, offering her a cup of water and herbs that would prevent any unwanted pregnancies, she had accepted it but had ignored the elf herself. When Iorveth, who had disappeared for most of the past week, had dragged her down so that she would clean herself with the help of Brigid, she had put on a stony mask and did as commanded, but had not made it easy for anybody. The commander seemed to be the only point of refuge in this camp, the only one to answer her hate with anger and her scowls with glares of his own.

More than a week had passed when Gwen finally seemed to calm down a little. On this particular day, she busied herself with making arrows for the elves, for she still refused to work with anybody else for now and being the poor little half-elf that she was, she got her wish fulfilled. She looked up at the sound of armour clinking and saw Iorveth sauntering towards her. For once his usually empty expression had made way for one that made his unhappiness at something obvious.

"Come with me," he ordered her without stopping.

Gwen watched him walk by and for a moment she contemplated ignoring him and continuing with her work, but curiosity got the best of her. In the time she had spent in this camp, she had learned that Iorveth was not one for doing things without purpose.

Out of the camp he had gone, down the hill and to the nameless lake that lay just at the foot of it, next to a nekker-infested waterfall which the elves regularly took care of. As she followed him from a distance, she couldn't help but frown and wonder what he had planned. What did he need of her for which he had to make his way down here?

When she stopped next to him, he had taken out one of his swords and had started to clean it with water from the lake, though Gwen could not discern any signs of dirt on it. She had never understood some men's obsessive need to clean their weapons in every free moment.

The half-elf cleared her throat when Iorveth seemed not to notice her presence. He didn't look up from his sword as he nodded in the direction of the lake. "Clean yourself. I want to see how much you have healed."

"W-what?" Gwen stammered as she pressed her legs together almost instinctively.

"You have ears, do you not? I have to be able to see for myself whether you are fit to fight yet," Iorveth replied. He sounded exasperated, though his face remained as passive as ever.

"Can't somebody else do that for you?" she snapped at him as she took a step back, planning on turning and leaving him there by the water.

Before she could do so, however, Iorveth had already gotten up from his spot. His fingers caught her wrist in the blink of an eye and he examined it, though her wince already told him enough. Without waiting, he tilted her head to the side to inspect the spot on her neck which had almost completely faded away by now, and his fingers were about to lift her tunic to inspect any other bruises he did not know of when Gwen pushed him away from her.

"Don't touch me like that!" she yelled, eyes wide and nostrils flaring.

Iorveth watched her as the realisation of her actions dawned on her, and she scowled at him. Until now she had pretended that what had happened had not affected her, had played it cool and had evaded any inquiries about her health and how she felt. He must have noticed that only he acted normal around her, and that perhaps she would start talking to him. Him of all people.

"I know what you're doing. And I know it won't work," he said without letting go of her arms. He had grabbed them when she had 0tried to fling him into the lake behind him.

"What? That I'm doing what exactly? There's nothing wrong with me, you and all the others, you are the ones acting differently!" Gwen exclaimed as she waved both her arms and his around. Now it was her turn to sound exasperated.

The commander gave her a sharp look.

"Gwen," he started, probably using her preferred name just to please her in that moment. "That cachwr raped you and denying it won't help any of us."

"Shut up!" she replied and she ripped herself free so that she could turn her back to him, hugging herself as she stared at nothing.

He was lying. They were all lying. These stupid elves only wanted to see her hurt, they would do anything to drag her down. She couldn't remember anything like that happening at all! Or could she?

If she closed her eyes tight enough, she could hear him breathing in her ear again, could smell the stench of him surrounding her, could feel him inside of her. She tightened her grip on her sides and remembered how his nails had dug into her skin there, still sore from the abuse.

And in that moment, the half-elf realised that she was all alone in this world and that that would always remain so. She had no one who would help her; at least back then she had had her mother to reassure her and pull her through.

"It wasn't the first time, and it might not be the last," she finally whispered, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "This world is not a place for half-breeds like me. I thought I had learned that a long time ago, but it seems that I had to be reminded."

Strong hands once more grabbed her arm and spun her around so that she was facing Iorveth once more. The anger in his bright green eye surprised her, and she found herself wondering how he had lost the other one.

"You stupid bitch," Iorveth spat at her, "this is no way to get over something like that."

"And how would you know that?" Gwen threw back at him, venom lacing her words. "Have you ever been at the mercy of a man who would not take no for an answer? Who would force himself on you and in you, in more ways than one? Do you-"

The sound of leather against skin filled the air, and all of a sudden it seemed as if the whole world held its breath, awaiting the next move.

Gwen lifted a trembling hand to press against her cheek, which must have become red and swollen already. Both her eyes and mouth were wide open, and she knew not how to react.

"No, I do not know any of this," Iorveth replied in an almost cool manner, "but I do know that this is not the way to recover. You are not the only one who has suffered such things."

He reached out and turned her head to look at him again. Though his demeanour was cold, the anger in his eye had turned into fury. Gwen wanted to pull away from him, to scream at him and to kick at him, but his gaze made her feel so small that she dared not move from her spot.

"I won't apologise," he went on when she remained silent. "I did not become the leader of this unit without knowing what people needed and when they needed it. You belong to me just as much as any elf here, and while you are a part of us you are my responsibility." Letting go of her, he got to his feet and retrieved his sword, reattaching it to his belt. "I have failed you once already, and now I am to make sure you recover, whatever the cost. Understood?"

When he stood in front of her again, he looked down at her, holding out a hand to her. The fire in his eye had died out, and instead he held an inquisitive look. She realised he wanted an answer from her, and so she nodded mutely.

She had planned on making that her only reaction, but she couldn't help the tears that filled her eyes as she placed her hand in his and let him help her up. He investigated a suddenly very interesting patch of grass somewhere to the side while she wiped the back of her hand across her face.

That night, just like all the nights before that since she had returned from Flotsam, she dreamed not of fires and flames but of a weight pressing down on her and that horrible groaning in her ear. These nightmares were worse than those from before; she had mostly gotten used to those after years of reliving them. Now she awoke from every sleep, her limbs tired from thrashing and her skin sticky with sweat.

When her eyes flew open that night and she took in a deep breath, she sat up, annoyed with herself. It had taken her months to come to peace the last time this had happened, how had she expected to be better after only a week this time? Though the circumstances and consequences had been different back then, she still shouldn't have taken it lightly. Somehow she had managed to forget all about that, though she had never realised it and thus had never the chance to be thankful for it.

Once she had exited the tent, the cool night air greeted her skin in a pleasant manner, and she stood there for a few moments, her eyes on the sky above. Between the leaves she could spy a few stars here and there, just like back in Lobinden. It felt as if a lifetime had passed since she had last spoken to Cedric. Anger ignited inside of her at the thought of that elf, and without thinking she clenched her hands into fists to control her temper. She couldn't forgive him for sending her off to Flotsam like that when he should have seen what would happen. If he had bothered to stay sober and not live off of vodka.

Forcing herself to think of other things, Gwen pondered whether she should search for Ivor, but then she remembered the last time she had seen him. She had thought that at least he would behave the same as before, but since he had been the one to find her, being with him was even worse than with the other elves. Those she had never truly known, they were strangers to her, though she hadn't known Ivor for very long either. Still, it had felt like betrayal when he, too, began to avoid her.

Without realising it, her legs had brought her to a certain other tent farther into the forest. The camp covered quite a bit of ground, with many tents scattered between the trees whereas humans would have just cut them down. The elven territory stretched out from behind the statue above Cáelmewedd, the ruined elven baths, to what many people seemed to call Iorveth's hideout, though in reality an arachas occupied it more often than the elf did.

Her cheek throbbed at the thought of Iorveth, and she brought up a hand to press against the hot skin that most likely still sported a bright red hue.

As if on cue, said elf appeared from behind the trees, naked from his waist up and wearing only a thin pair of dark breeches. Gwen stared at him for a few moments. In the dimness of the night she could only discern a few large scars covering his torso, and that flower pattern on the nape of his neck that spread out across his shoulder and the left side of his chest. She did not recognise him at first due to his lack of attire. After all, she had only seen him with his many layers of armour until now.

Iorveth looked almost just as surprised as she did when he saw her. He immediately reached up and pulled his scarf down to cover his scar, even before the half-elf had realised that it hadn't been there in the first place.

"What are you doing here?" Gwen asked, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. After her episode by the waterfall, she feared that her leader would view her different as well now.

Iorveth scoffed, and the sound would have pleased the half-elf had it not first annoyed her. "I could ask you the same thing. Last time I checked, this was still my tent."

"Oh, so you do get your own tent, huh?" Gwen retorted, hands on her hips as she frowned at the elf.

"You didn't happen to get lost on your way to find a spot to make water, did you?" Iorveth retorted, ignoring her remark.

Gwen snorted. "If anything, I found the perfect spot to take a shit. Right in front of your tent entrance, that is."

The elf narrowed his eye before it moved down to observe her cheek. He reached up and ran a thumb across the darkened skin. Gwen had to bite on her lip not to wince; the skin was still sensitive from where he had hit her.

He looked like he wanted to say something, perhaps apologise, but when he opened his mouth he said, "Since it seems that neither of us will be falling asleep anytime soon again, what do you say to a bit of sparring?"

"I never said I couldn't sleep," she protested as she pulled her head away from his hand, but Iorveth ignored her again and wandered off without waiting for her.

Gwen stared after him before deciding that she had nothing left to lose. Her pride had evaporated in the past few days, no matter how hard she clung to the remnants that still remained behind. How this 'sparring' with Iorveth would help her with any problems, she did not know. If anything it would most likely make everything worse; though her leg had almost completely healed, thanks to that potion in Lobinden, she had lost a lot of her energy and power during her weeks of inactivity. Next to that, Iorveth had to be a formidable warrior since had had become such a legend in many different countries. No doubt he would annihilate her within moments.

Whatever the case, she went after him after, wondering where he would lead her. She passed more tents and trees, and here and there an elf. The leaves and moss beneath her feet tickled her soles; she had taken to walking around barefoot in the camp and her feet still lacked the callus they had once sported.

The half-elf found the unit leader standing at the opposite side of a small clearing, one like the 'kitchen', but smaller. Iorveth leant against a broad trunk with his arms crossed, his eye on her as she entered the space. Moonlight shone down on the patch of grass, making it seem bright grey instead of green, and Gwen could finally see the extent of the scars that littered the elf's torso.

He didn't seem to appreciate this, for he straightened himself and sauntered over to the centre of the clearing. A challenge shone brightly in his eye, and he stood with his feet set wide apart, the muscles in his body taut with anticipation. Without thinking, Gwen clenched her hands, excitement filling her at the prospect of a fight.

She squinted her eyes at him as she took a few steps in his direction, meeting him in the middle. It had been quite a while since she had done anything like this; most of the past few months she had spent mostly running away. Even as she wondered how much she still knew, her body took on a defensive position all by itself.

With one fist in the air and the other close to her chest, ready to strike at a moment's notice, she eyed him as he mirrored her movements. They circled around each other for a while, neither of them making the first move, trying to gauge the other's prowess.

She lifted her right arm even before he threw the punch which she guided away from her face, and swung her left arm before he had recovered from her defensive manoeuvre, slamming her fist into his stomach. He coughed at the impact, mostly in surprise.

He hadn't expected this from her. Or perhaps she had had a bit of luck. Those were the thoughts which she knew ran through his mind in that moment, and they made her grin.

Next he threw her a few weak slams here and there which she easily dodged or countered, and she raised a brow at him in a challenge. He responded to this by throwing up his knee all of a sudden. Had she been a blink later with bringing her arms up, she would have lain on the ground, writhing in pain.

The commander pulled his knee away and jumped back a few steps, circled her and fired a few jabs here and there as she forced her feet to move her along with him. A few times they got caught on each other and he landed a hit on her shoulder or her side. Once his knuckles even managed to graze her face and the sight of blood on the back of her hand dismayed her when she wiped her nose.

By the time he stood still again, she had begun to breathe heavily, her body aching where he had hit her. The elf, on the other hand, only sported a sheen of sweat on his skin and a red spot on his torso. Though she couldn't see his brows, she knew he had raised one, mocking her for her previous arrogance.

She began to lower her arms, but when she noticed that Iorveth continued to hold his up, regarding her with a suspicious look, she changed her plan. Instead, she dropped to the ground and swung a leg at him, and he went down with a yell while she jumped up. It didn't take him long to roll over and push himself up, but Gwen used the moment's reprieve to wipe a hand across her face and to catch her breath again.

Even before he had completely recovered from the fall, her other leg shot out to take advantage of the moment. Her eyes widened when he wrapped his fingers around her ankle, and she tried to pull herself free but he would not let go. A smirk appeared on the elf's face and he added a second hand to her leg.

All of a sudden, Gwen was soaring through the air, but somehow she had managed to get a hold of his arm as he flung her over his shoulder. The action cut the whole manoeuvre short, and her back hit the ground with a painful smack, Iorveth landing right on top of her.

The elf looked up and found himself staring right into Gwen's eyes, their noses a hair's width apart. His eye, colourless in the darkness of the night, was blank as it wandered across her face. She hated that the most about elven eyes; with humans a single glance often told one what they thought. Elves, on the other hand, had to hide all that behind layers upon layers of empty shell.

The feeling of his skin against hers and his weight on top of her made her uncomfortable. His fingers, which had found her hips in their fall, twitched and though the bruises there had begun to fade, she winced and suddenly she was back in Loredo's bed. She froze, dread filling her as it had back then. Her stomach churned and for a moment she feared she would throw up, until the offender rolled off of her and she was in the forest once more.

"Squass'me," he murmured, his eye now everywhere but on her.

Gwen swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath before she pushed herself up to regard Iorveth. Only then did his gaze meet hers again, and for a moment the half-elf believed to see something... warm, almost.

Without a word, she shook her head, dismissing the apology. It wasn't his fault, he hadn't been the one to rape her, after all. For some reason it surprised her when she realised that of all the stories about his deeds against so-called innocent humans, rape had never once appeared. Perhaps elves were better than humans after all.

In the meantime, Iorveth had gotten to his feet. He extended his hand to help her up and said, "I believe you are fit to start coming with us from now on."

She eyed his hand, seeing them for the first time without his gloves. Short nails with jagged edges from lack of proper care and calloused finger tips greeted her, and she even spotted a scar here and there. He dropped it to his side when she shook her head again.

"Let me stay here for a bit," she said. "And I doubt anyone here will be willing to work with me. You never know, they might hurt me, the poor raped inh'eid, somehow."

Her brows knitted into a frown at the thought. Now she was longer simply a disgusting wretched half-elf; no, now she was a poor raped half-elf who had sacrificed herself for one of their own. She did know which one she preferred.

"If they are foolish enough for such things, then I suppose I'll have to train you myself." And with that, he turned and left, resolute.

He had to know about the change in his soldier's demeanour towards her, or otherwise one couldn't have called him a good leader. So he must have said that with the intent of following through with it. But training with Iorveth himself? Gwen couldn't help the shiver than ran down her back.

Now that the close proximity with the man had disappeared and the sudden flashback had waned, all the half-elf could think about was the commander's nose almost touching hers. He had only had to tilt he head and lower it, and they would have kissed. She wondered what it would feel like to run her tongue across his scar, to see what kind of disfigurement he hid beneath that bandana of his, and only then did Gwen realise she was in trouble.

Cachwr: shitter (Welsh)

Squass'me: I'm sorry (Elder Speech)