[A/N]: the chapter title comes from the song "Flying High Falling Low" by Walking on Cars.

Gwen couldn't remember much of what happened afterwards. She had lain on the ground like that, staring at the tree tops that towered above her from all sides through half-lidded eyes, her mind blank. Iorveth had set out to clean his armour, after which he had blocked her view by leaning over her, fully clothed.

"I must head back now. We shall speak of this at a later time. For now, the others must not suspect a thing," he had said before leaving, his armour clinking as he went.

She thought that she had nodded, but thinking back, she did not know for sure how she had reacted. Sometime later, she arrived at the camp wearing her leggings and tunic, carrying the rest of her cleaned clothes in her arms. She dumped them in her tent before heading towards the wounded elves.

Ivor was fast asleep when the half-elf settled down next to him. She barely even registered the strands of grass that pricked into the soles of her bare feet. A piece of cloth had been placed on his forehead, and when she reached out to touch it, she felt the heat from his face.

Cursing softly, she removed the rag and went to find some water to clean it. Ciaran stood nearby a bucket, and when she bent down to rinse the cloth in it, he watched her with narrowed eyes. She swallowed hard before looking at him with a blank face, silently challenging him, but he soon clicked his tongue and looked away.

"Has Ivor fallen ill?" she asked as she straightened his back.

"Seems that way," Ciaran replied without meeting her gaze. "Though his wounds are not infected."

The half-elf knitted her brows but said nothing. With the wet rag, drops of water running down her fingers and onto the ground, she made her way back to Ivor's side. She tried her best not to disturb the elf as she placed it on his forehead again, suddenly noting the way his cheeks flushed.

Feeling more than just a little guilty, she feared that she had made him sick, just like Aderyn had warned her. But she knew that there was naught she could do except wait, hoping it would be over soon.

While she sat there, her thoughts went back to Iorveth. At that, her heart beat against her ribcage like it were a drum. If she stared long enough, she could see her chest jerk ever so slightly whenever it did. When she closed her eyes, she saw him hanging above her, the empty socket that intrigued her as much as it angered her for all the world to see.

He had said that they would discuss what had happened. Back then, she hadn't been conscious enough to realise the depth of his words. Now, however, they instilled terror within her, as well as the fear that he would betray her. As Elric had. But why would she compare Iorveth to him to begin with? Elric had been her life companion, her husband. The father of her child. Iorveth, on the other hand, was… Well, what was Iorveth to her? And what was she to Iorveth?

The half-elf sighed, realising that she would not be able to answer those questions on her own. She knew that, to her, Iorveth was more than she had thought he could become. He was more than she had thought anybody could become. Perhaps he was more than he should have become, too. Yet here she was, after having shared a most intimate moment with the man. One she hadn't even had with the person who had once been the love of her life.

Though while that man had left her after stringing her along and had long since died, this man still stood beside her after catching glimpses of who she was. Who had shown her a side of himself which she presumed not many others had seen. But she did not want to seem arrogant, or have her heart broken yet again, and so she would have to wait until Iorveth was ready to talk before coming to conclusions.

Three days later found Gwen still sitting next to Ivor. The latter had awoken several times, and they had even exchanged a couple of words. The unfamiliarity of the guilt and worry she felt made it impossible for her to concentrate on anything at all, and so she refused to leave him. To compensate for the lack of her presence in the kitchen, she took care of the wounded by making sure she followed whatever orders were given to her. That meant she made sure that her charges received fresh bandages at least once a day, food thrice a day, and water whenever they asked for it.

"What are you doing?" Ivor asked her that afternoon. His strength had begun to return, and he was able to sit without receiving any help.

"As you may have been able to notice," Gwen replied with a roll of her eyes as she unwound the bandage around his torso, "I am taking care of the wounded."

"I can see that," the elf said, chuckling. "But why are you doing this?"

She couldn't help herself when her hands stilled, though she quickly went on with her task, hoping he hadn't noticed. He had, of course, and he lifted a hand to capture hers, forcing her to meet his gaze. His pitiful hold on her was enough to indicate he still had quite some recovering to do.

What was she supposed to say? That she thought it was her fault he had gotten ill to begin with? That she feared he might suddenly die, because he still wasn't quite out of any danger zones? That she saw him as a friend and that the last thing she wanted was for his condition to worsen?

In the end, she said nothing at all, but Ivor did not push her. Perhaps he had simply read her thoughts, for a small smile adorned his face as he released her and watched her finish her task.

Exhaling at the sight of the long gash that covered his torso, starting at his right shoulder and ending near his left hip, she allowed herself a grin as well. "It still isn't infected. In fact, it looks like it's slowly starting to heal."

The skin surrounding the cut itself was discoloured and bruised enough as it was. The crude stitches that held the edges of the wound together did nothing to help with the sight, making for angry marks wherever the thread pierced the skin. Still, it looked less dark than it had the day before. And though his face was still warm to the touch, the redness of his cheeks had lessened.

She quickly dressed his wound again, a peculiar sense of light-headedness filling her. Gwen could only describe this feeling as relief.

"Ah," Ivor breathed as he laid himself down again. "So that's why you're still here."

Feeling betrayed by her human blood, the half-elf grimaced and pushed herself off the ground before he could start teasing her. Even before she had straightened her back, however, a bright light filled her vision, and the sensation of her body falling to the ground assailed her. She placed her hands on her knees and managed to stay upright.

"Are you all right?!" Ivor called out, his voice sounding as though he were standing at the other side of the forest.

The spell passed as soon as it appeared. When Gwen opened her eyes, she saw that Ivor had all but stumbled out of his nest of blankets, his hand on her arm. As if the meagre strength his body still possessed would have stopped her from toppling over.

"Wow," she muttered as she stood up again, passing a hand over her face, "that was weird."

Only then did she notice two other elves who shared nurse-duties with her standing next to her, their brows furrowed and arms ready to catch her should she fall. Heat caused her face to flush, and she laughed uneasily.

"Ah, I'm… I'm fine. Just a little tired, I think." When none of them looked convinced, she gestured to a nearby tree and added, "I'll go and rest for a bit then, if that'll make you feel better?"

"You should," Mervyn stated, his eyes the colour of wolfsbane mirroring none of the amusement the half-elf had displayed in her embarrassment.

Senan nodded in agreement, strands of his long, blonde hair falling in front of his face as he did so.

"All right, all right, I'm going…" Gwen muttered as she made her way towards the trunk she had waved at.

She wasn't even half-way there when she sank to her knees, gasping for breath.

When she awoke, it was to the heat of flames surrounding her, though she could hear none of it. Panic clawed at her throat, and she turned her head side to side, unseeing, trying to ascertain her position. Where was her mother? Where was she? Where was the fire?! Why couldn't she…

"You're going to be all right, Gwen. You're going to be just fine," a voice spoke somewhere above her. It belonged to a woman. Her mother.

Her hand shot out and two smaller, cooler ones enveloped it. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, sliding down her temples and into her ears.

"Modron, modron!" she wailed through the burning of her throat, the parchedness of her lips, which clung together whenever she closed her mouth. "I dreamed that you died… I killed you… Why did you send me to the market? I could have…"

Somebody shushed her by pressing a cup to her lips, and without thinking she swallowed the water which soothed her throat. Only then did she try to open her eyes. The light blinded her and so she squinted. She saw a face – a woman's face – hovering above hers, brown hair falling over her shoulder and brushing against the half-elf's cheek.

Her arm relaxed as she fell unconscious once more. It slipped free from the grasp that had held onto her hand and fell to the ground beside her.

Her mother had black hair.

The next time she opened her eyes, she found herself surrounding by bright whiteness. Something fell into her eye, and when she looked up, she saw it was snowing.

Winter in Vengerberg, she realised at once.

"Gwenfrewi!" The sound of a man laughing neared her, and she turned just in time to see a mop of yellow hair before she was lifted into the air by a strong set of arms. The person holding her twirled her around, her feet dangling uselessly as he danced with her. "I heard from your mother. We're going to have a baby! We're going to have a baby!"

Something bubbled up within her, clawed its way up her throat, tickled her at the back of her mouth, and before she knew it, a laugh passed her lips. She grinned and nodded, black bangs falling into her eyes. Passers-by stared at them, some in confusion, others in happiness, and again others in disgust. But for once, she ignored them all.

She had feared what his reaction might be. Lately, he had been prone to mood swings, and the back of his hand had become quite acquainted with the skin of her cheek. She needn't have worried, however, for in that moment, Elric's mesmerising blue eyes beheld her as though she were a goddess.

When he finally set her down again, she almost sank to the ground, her head swimming with dizziness. His hands grasped her elbows before she could, however, and he held her close to him. Even through the many layers of clothing they wore, she felt the heat of his body.

"Ah, is it the morning sickness? Are you not well?" Elric asked her, worry filling his voice.

She wanted to shake her head and nod at the same time, and instead made circles with her face still pressed into his jacket. He pulled away and placed a hand against her belly, looking at it as if he could see the child within her, growing and fighting to live.

Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes, wanting to enjoy the peace while it lasted. The next moment, however, a jolt of pain ran right through her stomach. Opening her eyes again, she found herself standing in the kitchen of their house. Her hands grasped the counter, knuckles turning white, when the aching wouldn't subside as it had the previous times.

"El—" A scream tore itself from her throat, and before she knew it, Elric stood in the door opening, eyes wide.

His entire posture relaxed when he realised what was happening. She remained tensed and on the verge of a breakdown, her breaths coming out in panicked puffs. One of her hands moved to clutch her oversized belly, felt the muscles contract beneath her touch. She opened her mouth to cry out again, but suddenly Elric was beside her, her chin between his fingers, forcing her to look at him.

"Calm down," he said, his voice the cold, assertive one she had become familiar with over the past few months. "We'll go to the clinic right now."

Still breathless, she nodded but remained motionless even though the contraction had subsided.

Run, a voice at the back of her mind whispered. Don't go with him.

But Elric was already upon her, grabbing her hand and pulling her along. She opened her mouth, wanted to ask her where her mother was, but suddenly something smacked her in the back.

The autumn leaves crunched beneath her hands and knees as she stumbled forward. The sight of light reflecting off a metal surface caught her attention, and she snapped her head up just in time to dodge the blade that came her way. Instead, it slid beneath her chin and pricked into the soft skin of her throat.

For a moment, she thought she was looking into a mirror, dark amber eyes with speckles of yellow-brown staring into her own. Black, shoulder-length hair framed a face she had seen every time she glanced at her reflection while growing up.

"What are you doing here?" she croaked while trying to move her mouth as little as possible.

"My father told me I'd find you here," he said, though his voice didn't sound so sure. "You'll pay for your sins, you filthy half-elf."

"And what, pray tell, are these sins you're talking about? You must be a bit more specific."

"For killing my mother!" he all but screamed at her, spittle hitting her in the eye.

The stinging was the least of her problems, however, for it felt like her insides had twisted in such a manner that she feared she might throw up. Forcing the feeling down, she allowed the corners of her lips to curve upwards instead. Slowly but surely, with her hands in her air, she got up. His trembling blade followed her as she went. "Is that what he's been telling you all these years?"

The boy looked taken aback, lowering his sword a fraction. "W-what do you mean?"

That moment of hesitation was all she needed, and she dropped down once more, catching herself with her arms and swinging a foot against one of his legs. When his back connected with the soil beneath him, his weapon clattering to the ground, she launched herself on top of him. From within her boot she released a knife, which she pressed against his neck. He swallowed hard, the blade touching his Adam's apple, and he trembled beneath her. She leaned forward until their noses almost touched and her breath fanned out across his face.

"I'll have you know, I had a lot of fun taking her life," she whispered without breaking eye contact. "She was quite the screamer, if I do say so myself. Just wouldn't shut up. Had to end it faster than I liked."

By then, his teeth had begun to chatter, and she felt that he had wet himself. Adding pressure to his throat, she drew a few drops of blood that left red trails in their wake as they slid down his neck.

"Because I was just about to eat, I'll let you go. Wouldn't want to ruin my appetite, now would I?" She lifted the knife and licked his blood off of it, watching him squirm as she did so. "If I find you anywhere near me ever again, I won't be so forgiving. Understood?"

He whimpered and nodded several times. Satisfied, she swung herself off him, landing on her feet beside him, and gestured for him to get lost.

"Run along now. You wouldn't want to keep your father waiting, now would you?" She watched him scramble to his feet in silence. When the boy had disappeared between the trees, she exhaled and sank to the ground. Her voice was nothing more than a whisper when she added, "Give him my regards."

She opened her eyes and, stuck between the realm of the sleeping and that of the living, she murmured, "I didn't even ask his name."

"Whose name?"

Gwen blinked twice before she recognised Ivor and realised what had happened. She had fallen ill and had suffered fever-induced dreams. Memories she had wanted to forget, and one she had actually managed to bury beneath the debris of her life, only to be dug out by sickness, fifty years later. Her mouth and throat were parched, and her lips stuck together as if someone had coated them in honey. "How long was I out?"

The elf frowned, and whatever inner conflict he was having marred his handsome face with lines. He coughed a few times, then he shifted in his seat and said, "I asked first."

How unlike Ivor, who usually backed off the very moment she seemed reluctant to talk about something. Even curled up beneath a pile of scratchy blankets that smelled of earth and mud, Gwen could see his bright eyes and the conviction hidden behind them. It seemed that, the longer she hung around elves, the easier she could read them. Or perhaps they had simply stopped masking their emotions as much?

With a groan, she rolled onto her back, every fibre of her being aching. She was too tired to care. She felt empty. Numb. It was beginning to become a regular occurrence whenever she came in contact with her past.

"My son."

"You… you didn't ask for your son's name?" he asked, perplexity evident in his voice. Gwen didn't even have to look to see that his eyes were wide, his eyebrows raised.

Through the fog that filled her mind, she told herself that she owed him at least this much. After all, he had told her about what had happened to his mother.

"I… I had a child with a human. But the moment he was born, he was taken from me. It must have been… what? Twenty years?" Gwen frowned. "Perhaps twenty-five. He caught me by surprise. I had been in the forest near Vengerberg, near the edges, gathering herbs for my mother, who had been feeling a little under the weather."

When she stopped, Ivor gestured for her to continue. "What happened?"

"He…" The half-elf lifted a hand and pressed it to the spot where his sword had touched her neck. "He tried to kill me. His father had raised him telling him that I had killed his mother. But the moment he saw me, he knew that wasn't true. He looked exactly like me."

"What did you do?" the elf asked, his voice almost too soft to hear. As if he dreaded what she would say next.

He seemed taken aback when Gwen let out a laugh. "I told him that what his father had told him was true, that I had killed his mother. But I let him go. Of course I let him go. He was my son! I told him that, the next time, I'd kill him."

To tell the truth, though the encounter had broken the half-elf's heart, she hadn't felt devastated so much as betrayed. Enraged. Defeated. It had been Elric's final victory over her, after which she had vowed that she'd never allow him to hurt her again. And so she had erased the memory from her mind and had tried to live her life as if her own son had not attempted to take her life. She never even told her mother about it.

"And would you have? Had he found you again?" Ivor asked.

"I don't know. I like to think not. But by now he's dead anyway." The half-elf scoffed just before a coughing fit racked her body. She slapped Ivor's hand away when he moved to help her. Afterwards, she laughed again and added, "The curse of any non-human parent with a human partner, I suppose. Unless we wait a century before having children, we're guaranteed to outlive them."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Ivor said, bowing his head as if to pay respect to the dead. When he looked up again, he asked, "Inh'eids can still have children after so long?"

"Well, I… uh…" The sudden topic switch, and towards a rather embarrassing one at that, managed to snap her out of her stupor. Her cheeks burned with something other than fever. "I still bleed, so I assume that I'm still… fertile…?"

Ivor burst into laughter, throwing his head back and placing a hand on the bandage around his chest. He winced and grimaced, and coughed in between chuckles. The half-elf only stared at him, wondering if he had gone insane.

"Squass'me," he said, wiping away a tear from the corner of his eyes, "that was a rather personal question. Still, thank you for the honest answer. Inh'eids are still very much a mystery to the Seidhe."

Gwen fought a smile as she glared at him. "I am glad I could help you with solving the enigma that I am."

His grey eyes shone with mirth as he grinned at her. It was in that moment that Gwen realised that one simple, silly question had managed to drag her out of the cage she had almost shut herself in once again. Feeling peaceful, she closed her eyes and mouthed two words before slipping back into unconsciousness.

Thank you.