[A/N]: The chapter title this time comes from two songs by Walking on Cars, 'cause I couldn't choose and they both fit perfectly: "Don't Mind Me" and "Tick Tock".
It took Gwen a few more days before she had regained the strength to stand up again. By then, Ivor had taken on her duties as nurse, though the half-elf believed he liked it a bit too much. Especially when he force-fed her, smiling like a saint all the while, pretending not to notice the look on her face that promised certain death. Still, she'd never actually dare touch him, for his wound still bothered him. One had to be blind to miss the stiffness of the elf's body whenever he moved, the way he tried to keep his torso as still as possible.
After the initial period of fever and hallucinatory dreams, Gwen had spent the majority of the time lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of the piece of tent that spanned this part of the camp, bored out of her mind. At first, Ivor had kept her company, for his bedroll was close to hers, but it didn't take long before he was up and about again, albeit slowly. Now she simply whiled away, trying her best not to fall back in the fog of memories that lurked behind her. She had but to trip and fall right into it for it to swallow her up, and she refused to remain a slave to her past any longer. After all, it would only be proof that, in the end, Elric had won.
Once she could get up without feeling like the world had turned upside down, she decided that she had wasted enough time. Though a certain elf hadn't come to seek her out during her illness, the two of them still had things to discuss. He could he could avoid her all he wanted, but she didn't plan on allowing anyone to play around with her ever again. If she shouldn't expect more of him, she wanted to know it. If she could, then she wanted to know that as well.
She slipped away when everybody had turned their backs to her. Her clothes consisted of the tunic and leggings she had worn since leaving for the riverbank and must have smelled rather horrible, though her nose was far too stuffy for her to smell anything. Strands of hair clung to her face from the remains of her sweat, and her legs did not feel quite as stable as she would have liked.
Even so, she pressed on towards Iorveth's tent. A strange feeling bubbled up inside of her when elves asked her how she was doing, replacing the silent stares she was accustomed to. Her tongue would grow heavy whenever someone addressed her, and she would worm her way out of conversation with a lame, "Doing just fine, thanks."
Popping her head into the commander's tent, she was disappointed to see it was empty. A bedroll had been placed in the centre of the small space, and a couple of chests surrounded it, heavy locks fastened on each one of them. There was even a table and chair, all kinds of papers scattered across its surface.
Narrowing her eyes, Gwen approached them and picked one up, carefully unrolling the parchment. A map of Temeria greeted her, the lands around La Valette castle marked with crossed swords and lines that divided it from the rest of the country. Unfurling another one, she recognised the land where she had been born and raised, with the same markings applied to the northern region.
The Pontar Valley.
Gwen hummed in confusion when she saw the circle around Vergen. What could Iorveth possibly want with a dwarven town? Then again, the half-elf hadn't exactly paid a lot of attention to the politics of the country, especially not after leaving Vengerberg. And who knew what had happened since the death of Demavend?
While looking over the map, her fingers tracing the intricate details, her eye caught sight of her name written on a different parchment. Before she could pick it up, however, someone entered the tent and cleared their throat. The half-elf twisted around, her head aching as she did so, and she tried to lean against the table as nonchalantly as possible.
"I doubt that entering my tent counts as being discreet," Iorveth said before he squinted at her, his eye moving towards the table. "What have you been doing?"
"Uhm, just admiring the… these maps. They're pretty well-done. Did you draw them yourself?" Gwen asked, quickly. Perhaps too quickly.
Iorveth watched her for a moment before shaking his head but offering no further information. Without missing a beat, he added, "I heard you had fallen ill. Are you not supposed to be in bed?"
"About that…" The half-elf sidled up to him while he stepped further into the room. Her cheeks heated up at his close proximity. Nobody could see them like this… When she spied his fingers as he crossed his arms over his chest, she felt that tug beneath her legs. A reminder of why she had come here. "We have to talk. Remember?"
"How could I forget?" the commander muttered, looking at the ground. He, too, must have been thinking back to the moment they had shared, but he said nothing more and moved over to stand beside her. His hands fluttered across the various letters and documents that lay scattered there, but he lingered on none of them.
"Why Vergen? The Pontar Valley?" Gwen heard herself ask all of a sudden.
The commander looked up in surprise, before his eye fell upon the unrolled map. He reached for it, as if he had forgotten what she meant. "We will be moving soon."
"To Vergen?" When Iorveth nodded, the half-elf asked again, "Why?"
"I cannot discuss the details just yet. All I can tell you is that someone is waiting for us there. She is depending on us, and she will help us further our cause."
For half a moment, Gwen wanted to ask what, exactly, their cause was to begin with. Who was 'she'? And why was 'she' waiting for them? The only 'she' she could think of so quickly was Francesca Findabair, but Dol Blathanna was nowhere near Vergen. But then she saw the intensity with which Iorveth stared at her, waited for her response, and something clicked.
Gwen suddenly grabbed his wrist. Though her grip was not yet strong enough to overpower him, he tensed anyway. Glowering at the elf, she snapped, "Don't you dare! Don't you dare distract me!"
The tone of her voice must have awoken something within him, for he flung his arms to the side, almost hitting her in the process. Trying his best to keep his voice low, he hissed, "What do you want from me? To declare my eternal love for you? That I wish to have children with you and grow old with you?"
"It'd make for a great start," the half-elf spat and threw her hands in the air, half wondering what they were even doing all of a sudden. "I want to know what I can expect from you. I must know."
He stared at her, his green eye fixed on her as though he had come across a puzzle that needed solving. Perhaps he had suddenly remembered all the emotional baggage that came with her, though he had seemed quite aware of it when he had had his fingers instead of his dick inside of her. But it wasn't as if he didn't have any residues from his past clinging to him.
"Hey," Gwen murmured. Her anger abated, and she found herself reaching out to press her palm against his cheek, thumb moving along the marred skin above his lip. She was a rather difficult person to be around, after all. "What do you want?"
The commander didn't respond at once, and instead he closed his eyes. Contemplating. In the silence, the noise from outside filtered into the tent. Elves going about their business, shouting commands and greetings at each other, asking questions and giving answers. A soft breeze pushed and pulled the boughs, rustling their leaves, and a few birds dared to get close enough to let the elves hear their songs.
When he spoke, his voice startled her with its soft, almost gentle tone. "I wish to call you by your proper name. I wish to erase all the marks of another man from your soul. I wish your fingers stopped seeking sharp objects whenever you face difficulties." He hesitated for a heartbeat before adding, "I wish you would take better care of yourself, and I wish to do so in your stead when you are incapable of that yourself."
All the times she had spent thinking about this elf, she had never dreamt that he might say such things. Especially not after how he had insulted her the last time she had tried to lay her feelings bare. And now that he had, she couldn't believe the trembling of her body at the thought of starting something like this again. She only just now realised that doing so meant giving another the power to ruin her once more. When it came to Iorveth, she hadn't expected any commitment from him. If he had simply used her for his pleasure, they would have been able to keep a certain amount of distance between the two of them. But this, this was… Attachment. Vulnerability.
Hope.
A flash from her dream returned to her, and she thought back to the sight of her son before her, disbelief and horror etched on his face. With this, she would give another the chance of repeating such an act. If it had almost destroyed her last time, then what would be left of her the next time she found herself in such a situation?
When she saw Iorveth, the eye he had focussed on her slightly widened, she realised she had spoken her thoughts out loud. The look on his face, whatever she might have called it, quickly disappeared and was replaced by something else. Disgust, perhaps.
"Then I suppose it is a good thing that I am most likely no longer able to impregnate you," he said. Gwen knew that if Elric were alive in that moment, he wouldn't have been for much longer.
Having gotten that off her chest, albeit unconsciously, made her feel better. Still, she knew not what to say in response. While she stood there, motionless, the anger ebbed away from Iorveth's features and he backed away from her, his hands lifted into the air. As though she were a caged animal which needed its space. She couldn't deny that that might have been how she felt in that moment.
"There is no need to rush," the leader added, his tone softer now. "I know what it means to trust again. What it takes. Furthermore, none of the others must know about this."
The half-elf's shoulders, which she hadn't even noticed she had hunched, slumped as the tenseness of her body disappeared like leaves with an autumn gust. Slowly, she bobbed her head once, ashamed all of a sudden. She had been the one to push for answers, when she might not have been ready for them to begin with. She had asked him what he wanted, but had forgotten to ask herself the same.
"And now what?" Gwen whispered as she scratched her cheek.
"And now I must go back to my duties as commander," Iorveth replied, his lips forming a smirk. "You did not forget that you will have to share me with the rest of the camp, did you?"
Her face turned bright red, and she strode out of the tent. When she passed him, though he couldn't have missed the small smile on her face, she muttered, "Asshole."
When she stood outside, she almost feared that everyone would stare at her, but she was surprised to see that nobody even seemed to notice her. They all went about their business, offering her looks and words in greeting, but nothing to signal suspicion. Unsure of what to do with herself, she made her way back to Ivor and her bedroll, feeling strangely weightless.
At least now she had answers. She knew what she could expect from the commander. From Iorveth. And he knew one more detail about her, too. Perhaps by the end of her lifetime she might have shared all of them with him, and mayhap she will have gotten to hear a few of his in return.
After living half her life on her own without a partner, it seemed surreal to suddenly have someone standing by her side again. Once the realisation had sunk in, she almost felt giddy at the thought.
Ivor was waiting for her, raised brow and crossed arms and all.
Even before he opened his mouth, the half-elf had begun to defend herself. "I, uhm, I went to see Iorveth. Because I had to speak to him about… something."
"'Something'. Right. Well then, I hope your negotiations about 'something' went how you wanted them to go," Ivor responded, trying and failing to hide a grin.
"To tell you the truth, I'm not quite sure," Gwen said. She might as well give him part of the truth. "But… I suppose it's a start."
Ivor looked slightly confused, but said nothing as he watched her sit on top of her bedroll, legs crossed. She placed her hands, palm facing upwards, on her knees and closed her eyes, breathing in deeply.
The initial feelings of attraction had been there – and they still were. And Iorveth could be a decent person, if one got to know him. If one hadn't somehow gotten on his bad side. After all, he had made it obvious that he wouldn't force her into anything. Better yet, he had already proven that he wouldn't. Now she would just have to gradually get used to being able to rely on someone else again.
Those thoughts managed calm her down somewhat. But when the overwhelming feeling of unsureness had dissipated, excitement that was more befitting of a teenager suffering from raging hormones washed over her. She bit her lip and squeezed her eyes shut, finally allowing herself to release those bees that had been buzzing about inside of her for a while now.
With a laugh, she let herself topple backwards, her legs still crossed.
When she opened her eyes, Ivor was staring down at her, now with both delicate brows raised. "Are you… feeling all right? Do you still have a fever?"
He reached a hand towards her, but she swatted it away. "Most likely. I'll be fine. Don't worry about me."
Something flickered across Ivor's face, his normally bright grey eyes darkening ever so slightly. Crouching down beside her, he asked, "Iorveth… He didn't… do anything to you, did he?"
She should have felt guilty for misleading the poor man like this. But for the first time in ages, she felt like laughing and teasing and joking. She wanted to deflect the serious look on his face before it once more infected her too.
And so instead of reassuring the elf, she grinned and said, "I suppose you could say so."
Cheeks flushed, the half-elf burrowed herself beneath her blankets. She wondered what she would tell Ivor once she came to her senses. But for now, for a short while, she would allow herself to let go of all her worries and her burdens, and enjoy this sensation that was threatening to cause her insides to melt.
With all the hatred and sadness that had taken up much of the latter half her life, she had completely forgotten what love could feel like.