[A/N]: This will be the final update before school starts again! I'll try to keep this thing rolling for as long as possible, but you guys know how it goes.
The song "Illusion" belongs to "Modern Day Babylon".
"Iorveth!" someone called out as they ran towards the commander. Once the elf reached him, he doubled over and rested his hands on his knees, his shoulder heaving as he panted. Nothing but incoherent words left his lips as he tried to catch his breath.
Iorveth, who had been giving a group of elves – Gwen included – tasks for the next few hours, turned around at the commotion. "What is it?"
"C-Ciaran…" the elf began. He coughed a few times, then inhaled and exhaled deeply. "I-I believe… Ciaran has been ambushed. By the dh'oines."
Murmurs went through the Scoia'tael who had gathered around Iorveth. Ever in control of the situation, the commander at once asked, "How do you know of this?"
Gesturing in the general direction of Flotsam with a trembling hand, the other said, "At… Cáelmewedd… I found his unit… But Ciaran himself was… gone?"
"Gone?" Iorveth echoed with a frown.
"Yes, gone. I checked for survivors, and then I came upon… traces of another body, which had been removed." The elf lowered his eyes. "None of his squad survived."
The commander cursed and swung a fist through the air. Then he paused and, turning back to the elf, asked, "And how do you know Ciaran did not survive and leave the scene before you arrived?"
"Well…" He swallowed. "The marks, that is, the blood, it leads towards Flotsam. Why would Ciaran want to go to Flotsam when he's wounded?"
Staring at the ground for a few moments, Iorveth remained silent, probably contemplating the situation. Then he nodded before directing his attention towards the elves behind him once more.
"For now, this changes nothing for you lot. If Ciaran still lives, the dh'oines will have taken him to their prison barge, but we shall get to that soon enough. For now, while I formulate a plan, everything will remain as it was." And with that, he dismissed his subordinates.
Gwen, however, remained behind, closing the distance between them with a few steps. Her brows dipped into an angry, confused frown. "You don't believe that, do you? That he was ambushed by a group of dh'oines? It's Ciaran!"
"Our relationship does not give you the right to question me, Gwenfrewi," Iorveth snapped. When the half-elf maintained her glare without flinching, his posture softened and his shoulders slumped as he sighed. "But you are right. I doubt Ciaran would be bested so easily by a group of dh'oines. Let alone at Cáelmewedd…" He looked off into the distance, his gaze unfocussed. "We have nothing else to go on, however, so for now, this is how it is."
And with that, the unit leader turned on his heel and left, the sound of his armour shifting fading away as he disappeared.
As it turned out, it was far more difficult than Gwen had thought it would be to keep her private life with Iorveth separated from their public relationship.
He would call her by her full name as he had always done when he didn't simply refer to her as 'the inh'eid', and she would pretend to be disgusted. In the beginning, she had been, his voice intermingling with Elric's whenever he addressed her with that name. But after a few days, that melted away, only to make way for a warmth that would spread out throughout her body whenever Iorveth curled his tongue around that word.
Once in a while, she would slip into his tent under the pretence of 'tactical discussions'. He had revealed his plans to send a unit to the Pontar Valley together with two of the vatt'ghern's colleagues, and that, soon, they would join a battle... Though which battle he meant, he never said. Either way, after that, her hailing from Aedirn was enough reason for her to visit his tent on a regular basis, despite the fact that she knew as much as any of them did. Iorveth continued to debate the situation with the rest, minus Ciaran, always pretending some of what he had to say came from her. It seemed that he was willing to swallow his pride for the precious moments they shared when nobody was looking.
In the meantime, small units of elves were sent towards Flotsam in order to keep an eye on the situation. If possible, they were to gather information, though they had to remain within the forest at all times. Gwen had offered herself for this task as well, but Iorveth had claimed that he needed her for hunting rather than scouting. The half-elf had no idea whether she should see that as an insult or a compliment.
Slowly but surely, Gwen once more got used to the intimate actions between lovers, but this time in a manner that was wholly unfamiliar to her. Where before, she would have shrunk away from the rough hands touching her, as if that would get them to leave her be. But now, she would move into the touch of those hands. She would reciprocate instead of suffer.
Her memories were being rewritten, like someone scratching through a sentence on a piece of parchment and replacing it with different words. All that she had associated with fear and pain she began to experience with passion and lust. All she had known was replaced by Iorveth, with Iorveth.
And as he had promised, they stuck to her pace. Sometimes they would take a step further, other times they would regress. Either way, Gwen began to become acquainted with the male body whenever she felt ready for it.
On the other hand, some things remained exactly the same. They would continue to pick fights with each other. When not drinking in the touch of each other, they were like elf and human – complete opposites. Or perhaps they were just what they were: elf and inh'eid, so very similar with a tad too many differences to get along.
Her fidgety, nervous disposition – tugging at her ears, her hair, still wanting to cover up the dh'oine blood within – annoyed him to no end. In turn, his racist views towards humans egged her on to continue pointing out the flaws of elves. He still could not believe she hadn't had even the tiniest advantage growing up as the daughter of a king, she couldn't believe that he still believed that.
Fortunately, they had their calm moments as well, in which they had proper, mature conversations, where they treated each other with respect.
All in all, the others in the camp did not notice anything had changed.
The calm could not remain for long, however. Though a squad had already departed for the Pontar Valley, Gwen had only known a handful of elves who had left, and so the illusion of inactivity and peace remained. At times, it became easy to forget who they were, what they were, and why they were in a place like this to begin with. Spending time with people she considered her friends, Gwen could pretend that, at least for a short while, everything was all right.
Iorveth shattered the dream when he swept through the camp, gesturing wildly and shouting as he waltzed past his subordinates, in the direction of the riverbank where they had fought over a week ago. As he went, he cited a list of names, told them to gear up and follow him at once.
Though Gwen and Brigid, who happened to be nearby at the moment, hadn't been called, they moved alongside the commander anyway, trying to keep up with his long strides.
"What's going on?" Gwen managed in between huffs as she jogged after the man.
"Has something happened?" Brigid added, worry lacing her words. For such a small person she seemed to be having little to no trouble following Iorveth.
The elf glanced at the two of them over his shoulder before directing his gaze in front of him again. "We have visitors, and I'll be damned if I'm not there to greet them properly."
And with that, he left the vicinity of the camp and disappeared into the forest.
The buzz which his words had created filled the silence left by the commander's absence, people talking animatedly about what this could possibly mean. Perhaps a large monster had been sighted, and their leader planned on taking it down. Or maybe Flotsam had prepared some kind of attack, though they doubted that the humans had managed to find their camp, even after all this time. Could it be that Cedric had finally called him and was in need of help?
Whatever the case, it must have been something big to trigger Iorveth in such a way. Gwen almost could have described him as being excited, which conjured a strange image in her mind. All they could do, however, was wait for them to return with news and confirmation as to what was actually going on. In the meantime, Gwen and Brigid went back to the kitchen.
Nobody really got any work done though, for none of them could stop thinking about Iorveth. Gwen wondered whether this had anything to do with that call he meant to answer, the battle he wanted to join in Upper Aedirn. The fact that he had been so secretive about it annoyed her to no end. Then again, just because they were… something, didn't mean he would start treating her differently.
Much sooner than expected, noise exploded and spread throughout the entire camp. Elves began to run past the kitchen, many carrying supplies such as bandages. Gwen and Brigid frowned at each other before they followed the stream of people, back to the section where the wounded were taken. Since the return of the La Valette squad, the number of hurt had begun to dwindle, but now the empty beds were filling up again.
The half-elf and her friend said nothing as they passed them, ignoring the sound of people groaning and shouting. It wasn't difficult to find the unit leader, who was fuming, his hands on his hips as he stared hard at Ivor. After Ciaran's… 'ambush', he had taken in the spot of the commander's right-hand man once he was well enough to walk about again. Now, however, he looked almost as bad as when he had returned from the castle.
"What happened?" Gwen exclaimed when she stood beside them, with Brigid trailing somewhere behind her.
Iorveth looked at her. The emptiness in it, despite the anger the rest of his body held, told the half-elf more than enough.
"I have no time for your meddling, woman," the commander snapped as he made a diagonal slash with his hand, as though cutting the air. As though shooing her away, as though she were a beggar and had asked him to spare a coin. As though she were vermin.
The rage in his voice and actions took Gwen aback. After the closeness they had garnered in the past few days, it surprised her to hear him raise his voice like this. Especially when directed at her. Many had approached her like this in the past, and she had sworn she wouldn't let it slide anymore.
At a surprisingly fast rate, ire seeped into every part of her body, mirroring that of Iorveth. Anger at herself, for having somehow believed she would be treated in a different manner now. Anger at Iorveth, for acting like nothing had happened between them, even when surrounded only by friends.
Despite all that coursing through her, and without thinking that perhaps she was overreacting, Gwen lifted the ends of an invisible dress and curtsied like she had learned to do at the castle in Vengerberg, back when she had still been welcome there. She tilted her head just so, a stiff smile carved into her face as she stared at Iorveth with hollow eyes. Even when the elf shuddered visibly, her mask did not crack. At court, that would have meant certain death. She could not ever show the impurity of her elven blood in the company of human nobles.
"As you wish, Your Majesty." She turned, her back straight, and strode away from the elves, feeling more alienated than ever.
Brigid called her name out a few times. The syllable fell from her lips like a gasp as she began to follow the half-elf. When she didn't respond, the elf gave up, leaving Gwen on her own. For that, she was grateful. Without stopping to watch the wounded soldiers getting patched up, she wove her way around tree trunks to retrieve her weapons at her tent.
Holding the bow in her hand, she remembered she still had to return it to Owain, as well as the blade. She hadn't seen him since the return of the La Valette squad. There hadn't been any time for training of sparring since then.
As she made a note to herself to visit the old man sometime soon, she slung the bow's holster across her shoulder and bound the sword's sheathe around her waist. Trying to stay out of sight as much as possible, she made her way out of the camp. The sound of her heart beating in her ears drowned out the noises of the elves murmuring and shouting. At the edge of the territory, she climbed into a tree and continued the rest of the way through the branches, barefoot.
She had gotten careless and arrogant. They had avoided each other as much as possible these few days, at least in public, for this very reason. And for some reason she had believed that her friends could know about what went on between the two of them…
Shaking her head, Gwen forced all thoughts from her head as she concentrated on getting deeper into the forest. She would kill a few nekkers, or maybe some rabbits, until she had calmed down. Then she would return with a clear mind, and apologise to Iorveth. Maybe.
At least, that was what she had planned. Before she could get much farther, a flash of white caught her eye, and she stood still behind a trunk, still high in the branches. She held her breath and squinted as she focussed.
A man sauntered through the forest, pushing the leaves from bushes out of his way with a thick arm. He was covered in armour from crown to toe, and two sheathes with swords rested against his back. What could a dh'oine need two blades for? What was a dh'oine doing in these parts, to begin with?
From the way he made his way through the tall grass, Gwen could tell that he was either stupid and knew nothing of the dangers of this forest, or he was simply arrogant.
She remained invisible, using the leaves to hide herself, willing the human to move faster. He was taking his sweet time picking up herbs and the like, and with every passing moment the half-elf felt her agitation rise once more. Her fingers twitched. Perhaps she should just aim for the dh'oine instead…
Suddenly the man turned. His long white hair fell over his shoulder as bright eyes cut her way, and Gwen's heart almost stopped beating. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands curled into fists. She told herself that it was impossible for him to have noticed her presence, not with how quiet she had been.
"I know you're there," a calm, deep voice called from below. It sounded so confident that, in the blink of an eye, Gwen knew he had the upper hand in this confrontation. And so did he. "Show yourself."
In that moment, Gwen knew this man couldn't be a simple dh'oine. She could have turned around and fled, and she'd never have seen him again. No, she should have turned away. But her anger at Iorveth still coursed through her veins, emboldening her, and so instead of doing that, she lowered herself to one of the branches below. Though the leaves kept her out of sight until she was close enough to the ground to examine the man's features, his gaze followed her all the way.
Gwen realised that his eyes weren't just bright, but gold. Just like the vatt'ghern's. That explained why he had noticed her so easily. A scar ran through his left eye, and a shorter one adorned the right side of his forehead. His long, white hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he looked like he had shaved recently, but not recently enough. Gwen tried to gauge his age, but had no idea what it might be. For some reason he simply seemed old.
"What are you doing in our forest?" the half-elf demanded, looking down on the vatt'ghern and placing her hands on her hips. Though this man didn't look as strong as the one at their camp did, he could still probably kill her as though she were nothing more than a mere insect to him.
The vatt'ghern looked this way and that, as if searching for something. "Apologies. I must have missed the sign stating that this land is off-limits."
His answer reminded her of how she had met Iorveth, and for a moment she was surprised by the memory. How everything had changed since then. To think she had fallen for the man who had taken her prisoner back then. Something must have been wrong with her… But then again, with what she had experienced, would that surprise anybody?
"What is a Squirrel doing out here all by itself?" the vatt'ghern asked as his hand inched closer to one of his swords. "You'd think you'd have learned your lesson after what happened a few hours ago."
Gwen frowned and relaxed her limbs, and the vatt'ghern followed suit. If Iorveth wouldn't tell her what had happened, perhaps this man would. "What do you mean? What happened a few hours ago?"
"You do not know?" The vatt'ghern raised a brow and gestured with his hands. He did not believe her, she realised.
"The commander would not tell me."
The stranger inspected her in silence for a short while. Then he said, "Then it is not my place to tell you of it."
…of all the men one could come across here in the wildness, and Gwen obviously had to find the one with an ounce of politeness. With a sigh, she sat down on the branch she had been standing on, and swung her legs beneath her.
"And I suppose if I ask you what you're doing out here, you won't answer me either, will you?"
The man looked her over once more, as if he hadn't already memorised her appearance. Then, suddenly, he let out a breath, and nodded as if to himself. "Ah. You're a half-elf."
"What?" Gwen's feet stilled, and she tugged at her hair, wishing it were long enough to cover her ears again. "What does that have to do with anything?"
"The fact that you're not trying to kill me. That we're almost having a pleasant conversation instead," came the response.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Gwen gave him a blank look. After spending months surrounded by elves, she felt like she had mastered the emotionless mask she saw day in day out. "I am as much Scoia'tael as any other Seidhe is. If you had been a dh'oine, I'd have felled you without a second thought."
"Uhu." He mimicked her movement. "Then what is a Scoia'tael member such as yourself doing out here all by herself?"
"Hunting." It wasn't even a lie.
"I thought Squirrels always hunted in packs."
She couldn't say that she didn't work well in groups, for that would only prove her 'half-elf-ness'. But what other reason would there be to send out a single hunter? "We… are currently too busy to hunt in large groups. Hence, a few single hunters."
Yet again, the stranger simply stared before saying, "Be that as it may, I have some real hunting to do."
He turned to go, and as he left, Gwen realised that she didn't even asked his name. And only once he had disappeared from her sight did she wonder whether he had anything to do with the vatt'ghern in their camp. After all, how large was the possibility of two vatt'gherns being in the same place?
The half-elf sighed and shrugged to herself. Her will to kill something had dissipated with the presence of the strange man, whose body had all but radiated soothing calmness. With her mind far clearer than it would have been had she killed a few beasts, she made her way back to camp, adamant to find someone to talk to about this new vatt'ghern.