[A/N]: so it seems that ya'll are masochists like me and are still hanging around for more. Yay us! Anyway, (here's wonderwall /shot) without further ado, the next chapter!

The chapter title comes from Perfect Illusion by Lady Gaga.

Something nudged her hip, pulling Gwen from her sleep. For a few moments she remained still, her mind racing to catch up to her situation. Where was she? What had happened? In a flash, she remembered her screams and the soldiers. But most of all, she remembered the look in his eye.

She didn't know for how long she had been sitting there, hunched over and staring at the ground beneath her with her eyes wide and her nostrils flaring like a disgruntled horse. Rather distinctly she recalled her surroundings darkening and then slowly growing lighter again. Exhausted, she must have fallen into a dreamless sleep.

The push from before returned, more urgent this time. With a slight shift of her head, her stiff neck protesting as she did so, she caught sight of the tip of a boot poking her leg. Against her will she looked up and found herself staring into the warm blue eyes of a human.

He raised a blond, delicate brow, the amusement plain on his face while he inspected her. The amount of emotions he displayed came almost as a shock to Gwen, who had spent the past few months in the company of elves with blank masks.

They could be fake, she reminded herself and she thought back to the last time she had trusted a dh'oine.

When it became obvious she wasn't planning on opening her mouth, the man said, "You'll be leaving soon, when the sun has risen above those treetops."

He pointed at something in the distance, but she continued to watch him.

"I'll personally be guiding you, together with three others," he continued and cleared his throat. "To keep you safe."

You mean, to keep me chained, the voice in her head sneered.

"As I'm sure you're well aware, the trip from here to Vengerberg will take us about three days. Since we'll be making a few stops on the way there, however, we're thinking it'll be twice that."

Gwen's silence stretched on, though at one point she decided to examine the ground once more. Anger festered inside of her and it felt like her insides were boiling. The moment she opened her mouth to speak, she had no clue what might come out.

The knight shifted. "The name's Richard, by the way." His armour clinked as he stretched his arms out in front of him. "I'll have someone bring some food before we leave." Gloved fingers tapped against something – the pommel of his sword, perhaps? "Don't you worry, milady, we—"

"Do you ever just shut up?" Gwen spat. The chains that had replaced the ropes around her wrists clattered with the trembling of her body.

"Ah, so she can talk after all." Richard's laugh filled the air, startling the half-elf, whose eyes snapped back to her captor. "For a moment I was beginning to wonder if you had lost it, what with all your screaming yesterday."

That made her close her mouth and turn her head to the side. Shame filled her at the memory and it made her skin itch an itch that she knew only a blade could satisfy. The doubt had been gnawing at the corners of her mind for a while now, but she had tried to keep it at bay until now, certain that she would fall to pieces if she allowed it in.

"Now, don't be like that. We'll get you home safe and sound, where we'll wait for Stennis's orders on what to do with you," the knight said as he scratched the back of his neck. "He seemed quite startled with your appearance. It was like he had seen a ghost."

"Well he did originally send me to die. Or be prostituted. Or both," Gwen muttered, more to herself than to her companion.

"Are you sure of that?" He sounded uncertain enough for two. "Why would he do such a thing? From what I heard, you are family, are you not?"

The half-elf pointed at her ears. "That's why. If you remember correctly, Demavend wasn't exactly nice to non-humans. Aren't you supposed to share the sentiment?"

"I never really saw the point of hating entire groups based on what a few did. Too much scientist in me, I suppose." Richard gave a small shrug before he turned away, something capturing his attention. "I have to go. Eat whatever you're given, for we'll be leaving soon."

When a new dh'oine brought a plate laden with food, Gwen didn't even look at it. With the food came some sort of medic who wanted to take a look at her arm. The half-elf shirked away from his touch, but when her restraints got in the way, she slumped and let him do as he willed.

It didn't take much longer before another guard came and reached out for her shackled hands. This time she remained still and he dragged her off the ground, towards a wagon that had already been prepared for the trip. For that much, the half-elf was grateful. Her legs almost refused to cooperate, buckling beneath her a few times. The guard all but had to carry her towards her seat.

A few other captives were dumped beside her, but she ignored them and their inquisitive gazes. Thankfully, it didn't take long before the wagon began to move. Two guards sat at the front to man the horses, muttering to each other in hushed voices. The rest rode their own horses beside the cart, of which Richard was one.

"You didn't eat," he noted with a frown.

"Wasn't hungry," Gwen replied.

The dh'oine said nothing in return, allowing the silence in the half-elf's head to dominate her surroundings. Though she tried her best to keep her mind blank, it kept getting harder to keep the thoughts away.

Instead of thinking about the past, she tried to focus on the future. What would the humans do to her once they got to Vengerberg? Why had Stennis even captured her to begin with? He wasn't acting on a hatred for nonhumans, it seemed. He didn't feel threatened by her presence. Then what exactly did he want from her? To take his time murdering her? To interrogate her first?

"Why're you here?" one of the prisoners asked all of a sudden, capturing Gwen's attention.

"Quiet back there!" a guard on the wagon called over his shoulder.

Though the captive who had asked the question winced ever so slightly, her eyes remained on the half-elf.

Averting her gaze and without thinking, Gwen stated, "Treason."

The others nodded, as if they understood. As if they could understand.

"I was caught for stealin'," another dh'oine responded without being prompted, his shoulders hunched. "A loaf of bread, or something. Can't even remember, really."

"Killed my good for nothing husband," the woman offered. Her back was straight and her chin raised high, which made the contrast between the two of them all the greater. Her blonde cropped hair bounced with the movement, so colourful compared to the man's bald head. "What kind of treason?"

Why were they sharing their stories so willingly? Why did she even care about some half-elf captive? Was she just bored? "The worst kind."

"Ah," the other breathed with a nod.

The hobbling of the wagon reminded Gwen of the barge she had left the day before. Now it felt like it had been ages ago instead of a mere night. Maybe that's why she was so, so tired.

Swaying to and fro, the sounds of the wind rushing through the trees that began to grow on either side of the stone road as they continued south. Gwen finally felt the tiredness settle inside of her, and so before anybody could say anything, her chin came to rest upon her chest and her eyes grey heavy once more.

When the half-elf came to, it was to the sounds of people bickers and a fire crackling. Her entire body felt stiff when she tried to lift her head, and so she remained still instead.

"Awake, are you?" Richard asked from beside her. He held a bowl of some sort of stew that smelled like it had been cooked for too long beneath her head.

Her stomach grumbled, telling her not to be picky. Even so, she could not find the will to eat it. Richard placed the bowl in her lap and quickly let go of it when she tried to move away from him.

A silence settled between them, Gwen staring at the stew and Richard looking who knew where. She didn't know what to say, didn't want to speak, but everything was better than silence.

As if hearing her prayer, Richard asked, "What was it like? Living with the Squirrels?"

Okay, perhaps he hadn't.

"Does it matter?" the half-elf replied. Her voice cracked slightly near the end of her sentence and she licked her lips before continuing, "Why would it be any different from where you live?"

"But out in the wilds. No proper houses, or food, or… anything, really."

Finally, Gwen lifted her eyes. "You slept in a tent in a camp outside the city yesterday. Even now, you have no roof over your head. So again, I ask, what does it matter?"

Richard stared at her for a moment before he looked away, scratching the back of his head. "I suppose you're right there. With persuasion tactics like that, no wonder you chose to join them."

"I didn't join them," Gwen snapped through gritted teeth. She had gripped the bowl in her hands, clenching it in an attempt to control the anger within. "I had no choice. It was either that, or die."

"That… I'm sorry to hear that."

The half-elf said nothing more. She handed the untouched bowl back to him before she could break it and turned to lean against the side of the wagon. For once thankful for her exhaustion, she fell asleep before her mind could assault her.

The next day consisted of more of the same, though they made the first of supposed many stops once the sun had passed the highest point in the sky. Mostly it had consisted of coming to a halt beside a small settlement by the side of the road that looked more like a small collection of houses than anything else. There, they had stocked up on provisions and added a captive to the wagon. A gruff man that grunted more than spoke took a spot beside her, whereas the other two dh'oine huddled together on the other side of the cart. His hair reached just below his chin and was a mixture of grey and dirt. One didn't have to smell him in order to know he hadn't seen any water outside of a cup in days. From the smell of alcohol on his breath Gwen wondered if he had seen any water at all in the past few days. What Richard and one of the other guards did in the few hours that they spent away from the wagon did, nobody seemed to know.

Although the sudden onslaught of exhaustion from the day before had waned, Gwen still found her eyes dropping more often than not throughout the day. At the very least she was too tired to think. For that, as usual, she was thankful.

"I used to go fishin' every now and again, y'know," the male dh'oine beside her said. They had been on the road again for a while now, sitting in sullen silence as they listened to the guards whisper to each other. "With my son. Never felt more at peace than I did then."

"Then why d'you throw that away?" the woman asked.

"We had no money left. After some soldiers came through the village, 'confiscating' whatever they wanted, not much was left. And then there were the Squirrels, making life for everyone harder. I had no choice but to steal. It was either that, or watch my kids starve."

"Aye, difficult times are upon us. Don't reckon it'll get better any time soon, though."

They continued to talk about nonsensical human things that a half-elf such as herself would never have understood in the first place. Fishing with fathers who stole for their children? She liked to think she would have become a thief for her own child, but a dh'oine took away her chance to find that out.

On the other hand, her own father had never done such things with her either. Though he had loved Gwen and her mother, he had loved Aedirn more, and Aedirn had been a jealous wife. Much like the queen back then had been.

It had been a while since she had thought back to those days, Gwen realised. A surprise, considering the impact it had had on her during her youth. The lack of attention she had received from the king had left her a bitter child. Despite that, she had enjoyed almost every moment spent in his company.

He had not taken her fishing, but he had read her stories whenever he had had a free moment during her occasional visits. The half-elf could even remember having had dinner with him a few times. Even less often, but therefore more precious, had been the nights she had slept in the castle and he had tucked her in.

Remembering this used to bring tears to her eyes, combined with a painful tightening of her throat and chest. Now, however, she felt empty. Was this what peace felt like? Or was she simply too tired to hurt?

The months she had spent with the Scoia'tael had changed her. She could not deny that. Perhaps she had come to terms with her true nature after confronting the flaws in her reasoning.

That, however, had been before…

The thought slipped past her barrier before she could stop it. The rest followed soon after. Had any of it been real? Had Iorveth planned on this from the very beginning? Had the others known what would happen? That he would seduce her before selling her off as a mere bargaining chip? Had he faked throughout all those intimate moments with her? Gloated at her dwindling defences while she remained oblivious to it all?

Elves… elves were the worst after all. With their unreadable faces and their holier-than-thou nature. Using everything… and everyone… for their own purposes…

Or had falling in love not been part of his plan?

Gwen did not know which was worse.

What about Cedric, then? Had he just lied to her about fate and destiny and all that? She could hardly protect Iorveth if he threw her out like garbage. But he had given her the message about her mother, with his dying breath at that, so she had to be able to trust him, right? Unless it had been his way of making up for his actions. Or just another lie.

A throbbing pain began to fill her skull. Gwen had no way of knowing anything for sure, about anyone. Had Ivor's screams been an act as well? She didn't know who she could trust, what had been real and what had been fake. Aderyn and Brigid, had they been her friends, or had they known as well?

She didn't know. She couldn't know. She would spend the rest of her life wondering about all that, thinking about the Scoia'tael of Flotsam every time she met someone new. She would ask herself, "Can I trust this person? Will they become close to me only to betray me again?"

One of the dh'oine asked her a question, but she turned her back towards them and rested her temple against the scratchy, wooden side of the wagon.

But most importantly, she would be wondering: why?

Gwen remained in that position, shifting only to pull her knees to her chest, even after the cart had stopped for the night again. The humans clambered out next to her, glancing at her as they passed her, but keeping their mouths shut. One of the guards whose name she thought to be Rodrick prodded her shoulder with a cold, gauntleted hand.

"C'mon girlie, get outta the wagon," he said as he tried to pry her from the wood.

The only response he got was a glare, and Gwen tightened her hold on herself and her seat. Off to the side, the fire was already burning and sleep rolls were being rolled out by Richard and another guard, while the remaining soldier stood before the other shackled prisoners.

Rodrick grunted, his annoyance visible in the vein that throbbed just above his eyebrow. His fingers twitched and the half-elf could almost feel his irritation like a blanket that settled on top of her.

The corners of her lips curled upwards and she let out a snort. Humans would never change, would they?

"You little…" She anticipated his next move, saw it in the stiffening of his body, but before either of them could do anything, a voice from behind him interrupted them.

"What's going on here?" Richard asked, crossing his arms as he came to stand beside Rodrick.

"Nothing, sir." Rodrick had straightened his back the very moment he heard his commanding officer and took a quick step back from the half-elf. "The prisoner was being… difficult."

Gwen's eyebrows rose at the sight of Richard's smile. For as far as she could discern, it held no malicious intent. A friendly, albeit tired smile.

With a nod of his head, Richard stated, "Nothing new there. Perhaps you should go and help the others instead."

Rodrick saluted and sauntered off towards the campfire, his shoulders and arms still rigid. When he was gone, Richard hopped onto the wagon beside Gwen, his legs dangling over the edge and his head leaning back as he looked up at the sky.

"You know, my parents wanted me to be a scientist. They didn't want to see their son joining the army, putting his life on the line for his country," he stated without tearing his gaze away from the stars. "My mother is a famous scholar, analysing the identities of people who live in the slums or some such thing. I never got the need to look at and write about things. Why not just go out there and actually make life for the people in the slums better instead?"

When Gwen remained silent, he finally turned to her, the reflected light of the fire dancing in his eyes. "But I was set in my own ways, and decided to go against them. So, I left to live in the barracks of Vengerberg. I haven't seen either of them, nor any of my siblings or cousins or any other family, since then. Even if some might have been proud of my decision, most likely my parents held them at bay to punish me."

"Why are you telling me any of this?" the half-elf asked. Her head still rested against the side of the cart, her voice low and thick with fatigue.

Richard stared at her for a short while, mulling over her statement. His face was like an open book, his thought process child's play for her to read. "Because I wish to get to know you."

"You have known me for, what? Two days?" Gwen pointed out with a snort. "What about me could possibly have intrigued you so much?"

"Everything. You're a Scoia'tael member and a half-elf. Plus, you've lived through five kings. I wager you have many a story to tell." The dh'oine spread out his fingers, palms facing the darkening sky, as if offering her something. Whatever it was, she did not want it. Did not need it.

"I doubt that my life contains the kind of 'intriguing' you're looking for, dh'oine," she snapped at him. "And even then, it is not meant for your entertainment. Your kind can take what you want from me by force, you can rob me of my freedom for all I care, but I will never, never, give you anything of my own free will."

The human's bright gaze was on her face again as he watched her, calculating. Something in his expression changed and his eyes seemed to darken, his face closing off. The sudden lack of emotion unsettled her and Gwen wondered if she had finally come under the scrutiny of a guard planning her demise.

His lips parted and he inhaled sharply. "I have not told this to many people, but my grandmother was a half-elf. Well, is. She now lives in some remote village near the western border, on her own. Moved there once my grandfather died. The rest of the family rarely spoke of her, because they were ashamed of the elven blood in us. Others have made our lives difficult for it, refusing to forget. Refusing to let us forget. Blamed us for things the Squirrels did when we had never met any. Even the superior officers overseeing my application doubted me." Richard sighed deeply and passed a hand over his face, gloved fingers scratching against the slight stubble that covered his cheeks. "Only one truly believed in me, told me that elven blood— that it was nothing to be ashamed of. And it is because of him, an openminded human, that I sit here today. So maybe, just maybe, you could try to see 'us' in a different light, too?"

"Are you… are you being serious?" Now, it was Gwen's turn to stare at him, her mouth hanging open. She even lifted her head, clenched her shackled hands into fists. Her nails dug into her palms, just as her restraints bit into her wrists. "Did you just compare such petty problems with all that I have been through? What your grandmother has been through? Telling me to… to forgive you because of a little elven blood running through your veins?"

"To 'forgive' me for the actions of others. I have never needlessly hurt a non-human in my life. And those 'petty problems', as you call them, felt rather real and significant to me," Richard stated in a calm voice that only managed to infuriate the woman even more. "You do not get to decide the weight of that. Or the impact it can have."

"Then what do you have to say about rape?" the inh'eid hissed, her eyes narrowing to dark slits. Her arms had begun to tremble now, her shackles rattling ever so slightly.

Richard's gaze flickered to them before he shifted in his seat. "What do you mean?"

"Are you claiming that… that such inconveniences are the same as someone being raped? Because— because they weren't human. Not human enough."

"You…" Richard swallowed and averted his gaze. "I never said such a thing. But it was very much my reality, and just because others, just because you had it worse, does not mean that my experiences do not count."

"It's not–"

"And speaking of which, I never said that… You mean, my grandfather, he didn't die of old age," the soldier said, staring at something in the distance, his brows furrowed as if in concentration.

"What about your grandmother?"

He blinked. "What?"

"You keep talking about your grandfather. What did your grandmother go through?"

"I don't–"

"Go away."

Richard's eyes snapped back to hers. He opened his mouth a few times, almost as if he were chewing on something. "What?"

"Go away." Gwen curled her knees to her chest and turned her back to him as best as possible in the cramped space of the wagon. "Leave me."

First there was only the sound of the fire and people murmuring nearby. Then, a sigh and some scuffing. The cart dipped slightly, followed by the thuds of boots landing in the mud and armour clinking. Gwen squeezed her eyes shut at the noise, tightened her hold on her legs.

"Good night," Richard said softly before he trudged off, leaving Gwen alone with her thoughts.

If she had been about the fall asleep before he came along, then that was now the furthest thing on her mind.