[A/N]: as stated before (if I remember correctly), I'll be changing some things when it comes to the timeline. Also, the pool at the waterfall is deeper because of reasons.
The bow she had carved for herself was a simple one made out of wood from a yew, with only two limbs instead of four. She had decided not to decorate it, and instead keep the natural patterns of the wood. Since it had been a while since she had done any of this, she had tried several times before succeeding in making a weapon worthy of battle.
Now she was aiming that bow at the vatt'ghern she had met in the woods a few days ago – Gwynbleidd, Iorveth had called him. She recognised the name, but nothing more. Ivor stood beside her in the same position as herself, his gaze trained on the man as well as the dwarf who stood beside him. From the corner of her eyes she recognised a few other elves, but kept her attention at the matter at hand.
Which, in this moment, was keeping Iorveth safe. They had just seen this stranger take down an arachas all by himself, after all. Who knew what else he was capable of. Though the unit leader stood tall, his broad shoulders squared, he must have come to the same realisation.
"I want the Kingslayer. Letho, the man whose crimes I'm accused of," the vatt'ghern declared. He hadn't even flinched at the hard tone Iorveth had used against him. Not even when the commander had threatened to kill him.
Gwen realised in that moment she hadn't even known the name of their vatt'ghern.
Iorveth merely crossed his arms. "If you hadn't become Foltest's lackey, you wouldn't have been there when he was murdered. Do you really expect me to betray a useful ally?"
"Letho betrayed you," Gwynbleidd declared, and murmurs erupted all around Gwen. She, too, hadn't expected his words. Then again, he was most likely lying to worm his way out of this. "He wanted to make a deal with your comrade, Ciaran."
Gwen's body tensed, and she caught Ivor's eye. How did this vatt'ghern know about Ciaran?! Could he have somehow found out about individual members of their unit to lure Iorveth out of hiding? But excluding Iorveth, Gwen had thought them all to be faceless Scoia'tael soldiers. Ivor only shook his head, his mouth a thin line as he turned back towards the scene below.
"Ciaran aep Easnillen is dead. A week ago his warriors were ambushed and killed. You should invent better lies, Gwynbleidd." The commander sneered at the vatt'ghern as he took a step towards him.
"He's on the barge. Wounded, but alive," Gwynbleidd stated, and Gwen found herself releasing her breath. "He turned Letho down, and his unit paid the ultimate price."
Iorveth lowered his head for a moment. Contemplating, perhaps. "If you speak the truth, Letho will die. But words alone are not enough."
As he spoke, he signalled his archers to lower their weapons, and so they did, sharing uncertain glances as they did so. Still, they remained where they were, ready to defend their leader should the need arise. In the meantime, Iorveth and Gwynbleidd continued to speak about other matters while the dwarf watched the two of them.
When the vatt'ghern asked him what their goal was, the commander once more mentioned the 'she' he had spoken of with Gwen, though still he mentioned no names. Then, he accused the elf of abandoning the non-humans who lived in Flotsam with their oppressors.
"That's no life!" Iorveth snapped, lifting a clenched fist. "They've been stripped of self-respect, forced to live and die by human laws. They're more dh'oine than you, Geralt."
Gwen thought back to the years she had spent in Vengerberg. Would Iorveth have thought the same of her, back then? Would she and her mother have been just another set of non-humans who had surrendered themselves to a life surrounded by humans, giving up the right to call themselves non-humans to begin with?
Before long, Gwynbleidd – Geralt – and Iorveth had begun formulating a plan to investigate his accusations of Letho. All the while, Gwen kept her orbs focussed on the commander's back. For his safety, she told herself, but even then she couldn't help but imagine gliding her fingers along his body. Along the freckles that covered his pale skin, the puckered flesh of old scars, the bones of his spine like a sea monster gliding through the water. Along the muscles that twitched beneath her touch…
She caught herself in her fantasies and shook her head as if to clear her mind. After their conversation a while ago, Iorveth had distanced himself from her, as he had promised. At least when it came to the intimate moments, when nobody was around. They had never had the talk about boundaries and goals, though.
That, however, wasn't what Gwen had wanted. Yes, perhaps they should take things slower. But this, this wasn't slowing down… This was simply stagnation. Nothing would change if they simply deployed a 'wait and see' tactic. The half-elf blamed these unsavoury thoughts at such a time on the lack of intimacy between the two of them the past few days. Then again, there was also that…
She had no clue what the purpose of her bleeding was, but what she did know was that it had other… effects on her as well. The fact that her body regularly tingled with the need to be touched was one such effect, and there was only so much she could do on her own. In fact, the half-elf had never touched herself like that in her entire life. There had never been the time or energy. Now with more than enough of both at hand, as well as a lover(?) who refused to come near her, however… And as if to taunt her, her lover(?) had appointed her as one of the Scoia'tael to accompany him on this mission.
"We need to go." Gwynbleidd's voice held such finality that it tore Gwen from her reverie, and she scolded herself for allowing her mind to wander.
The commander shook his head, and even from here Gwen saw the twitch in one of Geralt's brows, his jaw clenching at the same time. Confused, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
"And why not?" he demanded.
"Because," Iorveth said, "would you believe it if a stranger appeared before you mere days after arriving, with me in tow? Because the many battles I have won and the trials I have survived before today were due to my luck?"
"I see your point," the other man conceded, his voice low. "When will we move, then?"
The elf chuckled, the sound of it sending tiny imaginary snakes sliding up Gwen's spine. "Do not worry, you will know when all is set."
Despite the goose bumps raised across her skin, the half-elf couldn't help but roll her eyes. The damned commander had been far too cryptic lately, talking about battles they would be joining and the like. And now this.
Geralt did not seem too amused by it, either, but he knew just as much as the elves surrounding him that he wouldn't be able to force Iorveth to do anything, and so he just nodded. Without another word, Iorveth turned and sauntered back towards the cliff where his force stood. They continued to watch for any sign of foul play on the vatt'ghern's part while their commander had his back turned to him. Only when their leader had found his way up by climbing a tree that stood next to the cliff did they relax.
And then suddenly Gwen's companions spun around and marched back to where they had come from. She jumped a few times to catch up with Ivor, after which she kept his fast pace. Soon they found themselves walking at the front of the group. From the corner of her eye, the half-elf noted that Iorveth hung back instead of taking the lead as he normally would have.
"Are you even allowed to be up and running again?" she asked with a grin. Though he seemed to be walking just fine, she couldn't help but wonder whether he had truly managed to recover so quickly.
"Menial tasks such as keeping our commander alive are allowed, it would seem," her friend replied as his lips formed a smile of his own.
Gwen let out a bark of laughter before she nudged him in the side with her elbow, wiggling her eyebrows as she did so. "So, how was your boy's night out with the commander?"
"Oh, actually quite delightful. He had a lot to say about you, actually."
The half-elf almost felt the blood in her veins stop flowing for a moment. She quickly reached up to flick a strand of hair out of her face. "More complaining about the bloede inh'eid going against orders again?"
"Well, that too. It took me a while though, even had to feed him the second bottle of vodka I had gotten, which I actually wanted to save for you. Apologies for that. But the commander can be so very amusing when drunk. You know—"
"Your point, Ivor?" she asked and gestured wildly.
The elf's smile broadened, his eyes widening in amusement, and Gwen at once knew whatever would come out of his mouth next would be no good at all. "Let's just say that he told me a lot about what the two of you have been doing when you believed no one was looking." He raised his brow at her, something akin to puzzlement on his face. "You do realise other Seidhe have noticed as well, do you not? You always claimed to have no ties to your country whatsoever, yet now you are our expert. Suspicious, no?"
Gwen couldn't stop her cheeks from darkening. "Then I suppose he also told you about…" Her voice trailed off and she tightened the grip on her bow, which she still held in her hand.
"Your predicament?" Ivor offered with a tilt of his head.
She nodded and looked away quickly so that she could only hear how he sighed before he added, "He is probably so afraid of causing you pain, to repeat your past sufferings, that he does not realise he will only hurt you more like this. I suggest you take action with your own two hands, to move forward." He stopped for a moment, hesitating. "That is, if you are ready to do so. I do not wish to presume your state of mind with this."
"Thank you. I'll think about it," Gwen murmured at her feet. When she looked up, she had managed to muster a small smile for him. After a moment of hesitation, she murmured, "Do you think we'll be able to save Ciaran?"
Blinking in surprise, Ivor stared at her for moment. Perhaps he wondered about the sudden change of topic. Or perhaps he was wondering since when she cared about the elf. Then, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Who knows. Gwynbleidd claimed he was still alive, so perhaps we can."
He didn't sound very sure, however. Gwen didn't want to hear why, though, and so she remained silent. Fact, they spent the rest of the walk in companionable silence. It was warm for this time of year, though the shade offered by the forest prevented it from being uncomfortably so. Summer would arrive soon, and who knew what the change of season would bring. After all, no matter how vague Iorveth had been about his plans for the future, he had at least tried to prepare everyone for something.
With every passing day, the excitement mounted, something that was evident even now, as the elves behind them talked animatedly. From the bits and pieces of conversations Gwen caught, she heard many of them talking about what would happen if the vatt'ghern ended up being right. Others discussed Ciaran's situation. Despite the fact that Gwen had never been friendly with the elf, she couldn't help but feel elated at the thought of getting him out alive, whether Ivor believed he could be saved or not. He did not deserve to die because he refused to betray his leader. Loyalty was already so hard to come by these days. To let one of the few remaining people worthy of trust die…
When they arrived at the slope that would lead them back to the camp, Gwen left the group, telling Ivor that she felt like taking a bath before getting back to work. The day was just warm enough to make the excuse seem plausible; a sheen of sweat covered their bodies from the hike through the woods. The elf nodded before starting the climb up the hill, after which Gwen made her way to the waterfall, where she soon stumbled upon a newly-made nekker nest.
She didn't wait for the creatures to mobilise after they dug their way up to the surface, instead slicing through the two closest to her with one swift movement before stepping back and swinging her blade in the opposite direction, piercing the one behind her. Even before their corpses fell to the ground, she made her way around the pool, finding more of the foul beasts and putting them down. Just to be sure, she even checked behind the waterfall, ignoring the water that splashed off her armour as she made her way through and cleared the cave beyond as well.
Only when she had made sure that every nekker in the near vicinity was dead did she drop herself by the side of the pool with a sigh. She rolled her muscles, stretched the tightness from them, and decided that, if anything, it had been a good exercise. She also decided that she needed to spar with Owain more often if she ever wanted to retain her strength and skills. Experience alone did not make a warrior, after all.
It had been a great form of meditation, too, the half-elf realised when she noted how she felt strangely calm, especially compared to how agitated she had been a while ago. When she had had to watch Iorveth and think about everything she had done wrong.
She groaned when the jitteriness returned with the memory, and so she quickly began to work on her armour, freeing herself from its confines, still wet from the waterfall. The clothes dropped to the ground behind her with squishy thuds, and she didn't bother organising them as she dangled her feet and calves in the cool water. The liquid rippled around her limbs, and she placed her hands behind her and leaned back with a sigh.
Now if only this place did not remind her of her first time with Iorveth, or of any moment she had shared with the commander in this place, she might have truly been able to relax. Since this was not the case, it did not take long before that sensation of something crawling over her body returned. It was neither pleasant nor unpleasant; it was simply unbearable. It made her feel like digging her nails into her skin and tearing it off.
She did not know how much longer she could take this.
With a soft whine, she placed a hand, cold to the touch, on her stomach, not yet sure whether she should resort to satisfying herself every time this feeling assailed her. After all, what good could possibly come from that? But then again, what else could she do?
Her fingers slid lower, brushing against the curls that greeted her there.
And then she froze.
That familiar, horrible, damnable sound of armour clinking stopped as soon as it had appeared, and without turning around, she knew what she had gotten herself into.
Well shit.