[A/N]: ahahaha, hello everybody! It's been a while, hasn't it? *hides* This chapter was giving me a bit of trouble because I wasn't quite sure where I wanted to go with the story after this. But I've made up some sort of plan for the plot, so we'll see how it goes. Speaking on which, I made it appear that this story took place in autumn, but after taking a look at the official Witcher timeline I realised that it should be almost spring, so beware of any confusion that might arise.
I hope you'll enjoy this long awaited chapter!
The chapter title comes from the Tokyo Ghoul soundtrack, "Licht und Schatten" (German for "Light and Shadow").
How could she? How dare she?!
Iorveth gritted his teeth as the memory of that incident came to mind once more. Just as unbidden was the feeling of her lips against his, the breath that had fanned out across his face when she had exhaled. And almost worse: that smile of hers before she had disappeared from his sight. He hadn't seen nor heard from her since.
If she hadn't done so, however, the Scoia'tael commander didn't know what he might have done to her. He couldn't exactly expect the rest of his commando to accept the inh'eid, whether this one in particular or any others that might appear in the future, if he went and got the one in their unit killed, could he?
Or so he liked to think. He preferred to ignore the possibility that the situation might have gone in the entirely opposite direction, for Iorveth liked to think of that even less. The woman was a bloede inh'eid, after all. Many Aen Seidhe in the camp – whether male or female – looked better than she did. But then again, none of them had ever given him this much trouble before, much less just kissed him because they had felt like it.
"Iorveth?"
He looked up to find Ciaran staring at him. They had been in the middle of discussing their plans for the future when, after mentioning Loredo, Iorveth had had to think of Gwen and that blasted kiss. He was a grown man, for fuck's sake! He had no time to be daydreaming about these things at a time like this.
"While we continue preparing for our plan with the vatt'ghern, we must not forget Flotsam," Iorveth began as though nothing had happened. "They will still be on guard after the previous… incident, so we will wait until the vatt'ghern has left before we launch another assault. The last thing we need is Loredo becoming suspicious and reporting it to anybody, though I doubt the dh'oine is smart enough for that in the first place."
"When will we know anything more concrete about this plan with the vatt'ghern?" one of the elves surrounding him asked.
Ciaran almost looked insulted at what could be interpreted as doubting their leader's skills, but Iorveth raised a hand to calm him down before he could speak. "As of now, we need to wait until we can be sure of both Foltest's position, and the vatt'ghern's possibility to get close enough to kill him without getting caught."
"You mean to let the vatt'ghern take this king's life?!" Now even Ciaran looked surprised.
Iorveth waited for the angry and astonished murmuring of the seidhe to die down before he opened his mouth. "What is this? Have we suddenly become nothing more than scavengers, searching for glory and gold? Do we not want to send a message to the dh'oine?!"
The others remained silent as they glanced at each other, uncertain. Iorveth always knew exactly what to say the sway the masses. At least when it came to Aen Seidhe.
"Then it should not matter who deals the killing blow, as long as it happens." When they still didn't look convinced, he added, "And after all, the vatt'ghern is offering us his aid while asking us for ours. Without us, he will not be able to succeed to begin with. That should be enough, should it not?"
When Ciaran lowered his gaze, Iorveth knew he had won. "Things are currently brewing among the dh'oine, as per usual. It seems that the House of La Valette has finally had enough of its king and has declared the independence of their territory. Aryan La Valette has commanded their troops until now, but Foltest has managed to defeat them in every battle they have fought. The La Valettes have now crawled back to their castle, and it won't take long before Foltest lays siege."
"What does this have to do with us? Or the vatt'ghern?"
"For one, this makes things easier for us because we simply have to follow the river. Secondly, although Foltest denies it, his two bastard children are there. If we want to kill him without attracting too much attention, getting close to them will aid us in our mission. The dh'oine will want to make sure his children are safe after all is said and done, and if the vatt'ghern is nearby, the rest will be easy. We'll simply have to get out of there before we are found."
His comrades frowned at each other again. Iorveth knew what they felt, and he also knew that what he told them sounded logical. Though he did not like using his subordinates like this, he realised that under no other circumstances would this mission succeeded. They needed that vatt'ghern as much as he needed them.
"When will we leave?" Ciaran finally asked, his expression defeated.
"Soon. Not all of us will be going, and there are still some preparations that need finishing. Furthermore, we have to prepare to catch Flotsam off-guard when the designated group has departed," Iorveth stated, disregarding the feelings of his lieutenant. "But all in due time, do not worry."
With that, the meeting ended. The group of seidhe dwindled before evaporating completely, the sound of voices mingling disappearing together with their forms. Only Ciaran remained behind, his gaze still on Iorveth. The commander bit back a sigh as he waited for his adjutant to speak his mind.
"And what of the inh'eid?" Ciaran asked, averting his gaze as he did so.
Iorveth lowered his brows. "What of her?"
"Well…" The man cleared his throat, and Iorveth's eye narrowed when he saw the blush dusting the seidhe's cheeks. "There have been rumours…"
"Rumours of what?" the commando leader snapped, at once reminded of his previous frustration.
Ciaran remained uncharacteristically silent, but Iorveth already knew what bothered him. It was obvious that, on the one hand, he did not want to think or talk about what his leader did in his bedroom, so to speak. But on the other hand, he felt insulted that it had to be with the inh'eid.
"These rumours are just that: rumours. They have but little that is actually based upon reality." He wasn't even lying, technically speaking. Whatever the rumours had become, no doubt that 'she forced herself on him' did not appear anywhere in these whispers.
Ciaran's shoulders slumped at his words and he nodded. Before long he, too, left, leaving Iorveth alone with his thoughts. Perhaps not the wisest course of action in that moment.
Not only had she kissed him without his consent, but she had also done it where, apparently, others could see them. As the leader of this unit, he had a certain reputation to keep up. Copulating with inh'eids did not exactly belong on the list of things that helped him do so.
…was what he wanted to think, at least. He did not like to remember how she had approached him at such a pace that had allowed him the opportunity to get away if he had truly wished to do so. After all, she of all people knew what it felt like to be put in such a position.
But why had he not done so then? Turned his head to the side, pushed her back, jumped out of the tree? He had allowed her to do what she did, and no matter how furious he became at her, that fact would never change.
Well, not that it mattered. He could not change the past, only look to the future, and he had a while to figure everything out before the mission started.
With her lips pressed into a thin line, Gwen sharpened the umpteenth arrow of that day, putting all her might into her strokes. She had even started sweating as though she had been training in the sun all day, though she did not exactly dislike the sensation. Sometimes feeling exhausted only helped to clear one's mind.
Did she have to clear her mind, though? The past few days she had felt exceptionally calm. Though the usual inh'eid versus seidhe squabble had taken place every now and again, for the rest everything had remained rather peaceful.
The knife stopped in its path, digging into the wood of the thin shaft as it waited for its next command.
Dark eyes slid to the scars that covered pale skin. She no longer hid them beneath bandages, just as she had discarded her headband. Though some of the Scoia'tael had stared in the beginning, others glanced at it and shared knowing, albeit unwanted, looks with her. Even as she began to recognise the signs of self-mutilation in her… comrades, Brigid and Ivor both having their fair share of them, she refused to compare herself with them.
Gwen wondered if she had started to forgive the elves. At least these elves. Somehow the thought of having been wrong almost all her life, of so many wasted hours filled with hatred, frustrated her even more. The fact that these conflicting thoughts concerning a certain commander continued to fill her head as well did not make the entire process any easier.
Though she had kissed him, and he had kissed her back, she couldn't help but feel angry… But at what? At whom?
In a flare of ire, Gwen cleaved the arrow in two. Enraged by the fact that she had fucked up, she flung the two pieces of wood away from her with a yell.
"H-hey, watch it!" a voice yelled all of a sudden.
Gwen's head snapped up just in time to watch Ivor jump to the side, the sharpened half of the shaft embedding itself into a tree trunk behind the elf. She sighed, realising she truly had broken what otherwise might have been a perfectly good weapon. In the meantime, Ivor only stared at it with a sheepish expression.
"So is there a point to your visit or are you just going to gape at the tree?" the half-elf snapped as she picked up the next twig and positioned her knife to start carving again.
"You don't use stone for your arrowheads?" Ivor asked, pulling the piece of wood sticking out of the bark before inspecting it. He pressed his finger against the tipped and watched a bead of blood well up.
The woman shook her head. "I tried, but found them too… unwieldly. They're too heavy for my taste."
Ivor hummed before dropping the arrow in her pile of discarded wood. All the while, Gwen didn't stop working on the next one as she waited for the elf to start speaking.
He didn't, however, and continued to watch her work. With a sigh she set her gear to the side and, crossing her arms, looked into his dark eyes. The blankness of their orbs no longer unsettled her as it had in the beginning, and at times she found herself able to read whatever emotions they allowed to seep through. Now wasn't one of those times.
"How are your wounds?" Ivor asked just as Gwen opened her mouth.
"Huh?" came her intelligent reply, and she tilted her head to the side, her fingers unconsciously finding the wounds on her wrist.
The movement did not go unnoticed by the man, but he let it slide. "Your back and your leg. Some elves will be leaving with the vatt'ghern in a while, and I wanted to make sure that you are in good condition."
"Ah, but you said it yourself. Some elves will be leaving. I don't expect Iorveth to be sending someone like me on a mission like this." Gwen hesitated for a split second, eyes inspecting the leaves covering the ground. "At least not yet."
"We are also going to ambush Flotsam when the others leave, though. You might be allowed on that."
Gwen squinted at him and lowered her brows. Was he doubting her? It was true that she hadn't asked for his help with her bandages in a while, but for as far as she knew most of it had healed. As long as she didn't push herself, she would be fine. She suddenly recognised the look on his face: scepticism.
Her fingers tightened their grasp on her knife, and before she realised it, she had gotten up and closed the distance between the two of them with a two large steps. Ivor gasped and sputtered in surprise when she slammed the butt of her weapon into his stomach, pulling it back before he could hurt himself as he grasped for the source of pain. Instead she took a few steps to the side, circling him with an almost graceful flourish before poking him in the small of his back.
This time he anticipated it and whirled around, his hand catching hers before she could move. The downside to people like him, who wielded bows more easily than swords, was the fact that they could move so much quicker.
"That wasn't exactly fair," he warned her when she tried to tug herself free from his grasp.
She shot him a grin. "I don't know if you've noticed this yet, but I don't exactly do fair."
"I heard," he retorted with a raised brow. "I have heard many a thing from Owain of your… ways."
"Why do you keep tabs on me like this anyway?" Gwen asked. She tucked her knife away, moving with deliberate slowness to show him she wouldn't hurt him again.
The look she received for her question was a strange one. Ivor opened his mouth but closed it again and folded his arms across his chest instead. "Why do you think I keep tabs on you like this?"
"Well…" the half-elf began as she found her seat again and rested her underarms along her knees. She stared up at him, confused, and continued, "Because Iorveth told you to do so?"
"And what if I told you I do because I care about you?" The corners of his lips twitched upwards when he saw her blanch.
She wanted to deny the possibility of the two of them caring for each other, for he was an elf and she an inh'eid. That they couldn't possibly become friends. But then she thought back to elf she had helped to rescue and how she had thanked her. How she had felt when those words had left that girl's lips.
The world had always been black and white, and sometimes Gwen wished it had remained so. It was easier that way, too. But grey? She had no clue what to do with grey.
Ivor scratched the back of his head, probably having realised her predicament simply by looking at her face. With a smile, he said, "Well, anyway. If you don't have any complaints, then I believe you. I shall tell Iorveth that the next time he asks."
For a split second he hesitated before departing. He looked as if he wanted to ask something else, but then he simply waved and disappeared, leaving behind a frustrated and even more perplexed half-elf.
Iorveth. The next time he asked? Did that mean he did so often? Probably just because he wanted to make sure she, as his subordinate, was doing all right.
She dug her hands into her short hair and bit her lip at the thought of that man and the feelings it brought with it. She hated the elf, the way his eye could look so cold, the slight rasp in his voice that made him sound angry all the time. Yet she couldn't deny that he intrigued her, with his curious policy towards her, a half-elf, and because of the fact that he had seen her at her worst yet wanted to help her because she was 'his responsibility'.
"I have failed you once already, and now I am to make sure you recover, whatever the cost. Understood?"
A shiver ran down her spine at the memory of his voice, strangely soft as he spoke, saying those words. She closed her eyes and let out a long breath, imagining him as he had appeared in her nightmare. The fact that she had dreamt of him like that to begin with meant that he held some importance to her; after all, she never dreamed of random encounters or people that meant nothing to her.
Tugging at strands of her hair and finding relief in the pain it caused, she realised that she wouldn't get any answers if she stayed like this. In a few days or weeks, a team would leave with the vatt'ghern, and Iorveth would most likely go as well. That would give her enough time to sort out her feelings.
Ivor's words about raiding Flotsam bothered her as well. She didn't know if she could go back there just yet, even though it would mean she could get the chance to kill some humans in revenge for what that pig had done to her. For a split second she lay on his bed again in that dim room, the smell of sweat heavy in the air. She could hear him mutter under his breath and the sound of the bed creaking beneath her.
She wrapped her arms around her torso and tried to make herself as small as possible. Her throat tightened all of a sudden, and her lungs refused to function. No, she couldn't go back. What if… what if they found her again? What if he…
While her body trembled all over, Gwen abruptly got to her feet. She shook her head in an attempt to rid her mind of these thoughts before she stumbled over to the nearest tree. Tears began to blur her vision as she reached up with one hand, the other clutching her stomach as it churned. Before she could pull herself up, she fell to her knees and was forced to empty her stomach, coughing all the while.
Sweat dripped into her eye and she squeezed it shut as she heaved and retched until nothing remained inside of her. Her nightmares never affected her like this during the night, but whenever she remembered during the day she was thrown off balance as though it had happened only a few days ago.
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before pushing herself from the ground again, using the tree next to her to keep herself steady. As the world began to spin around her, she pulled herself up on a low-hanging branch before making her way higher into the tree. The shadows offered by the few leaves of the tree, ready for spring to arrive, helped calm her down long enough to find a comfortable spot, where she rolled herself up and tried to steady her breathing.
For now, she would let herself drift along with the current of events. She could worry about things such as her feelings for the elves, and one in particular, when the time to do so came.