[A/N]: Still no Iorveth, sorry! He'll come back, I promise. Just don't know when exactly.
Sorry - Kenginston.
Her bandages were refreshed twice by Richard, who made a point of doing it after getting his ear chewed off by Claire, before the tall walls of Vengerberg began to rise in the distance. Whatever conversation people might have been having, it all died down at the sight of the imposing ramparts that went around the entire city. The pressure of what the future held for them became almost palpable, and Gwen felt like she couldn't breathe anymore.
Before she left Vengerberg, she had spent almost every living moment there, barring the few times she had gone out into the woods with her mother. The last time she had set eyes upon the city, her mother's burnt corpse had substituted that of her own, buried beneath the remains of the house in which she had been born. Seeing it again after who knew how many years… It made her dug the jagged edges of her nails into her palms, the sharp pain grounding her. For now.
The man sitting next to her shifted in his seat, but when Gwen looked at him she saw that he was watching at her. He did not seem to care that he had been caught staring, his eyes – the colour of honey – never once leaving hers. She averted her gaze towards the dark crescents on her palms.
Three carts, carrying nine prisoners and guarded by eleven soldiers hobbled closer towards Aedirn's capital city. A line of people stood in front of the tall gates, merchants and visitors trying to get to the other side of the wall while soldiers checked everything and everyone. With the many Scoia'tael attacks, the humans liked to think they could avoid trouble by being careful.
Their group passed the queue and received glares from those waiting for their turn, though the gazes mellowed when they realised who they were. Gwen felt their eyes on her ears as they came closer to the gates.
It was strange to think that many of the humans who had lived in Vengerberg when she left were now dead. She wondered what had happened to the nonhumans she had known, what her old street looked like. Whether everything had been rebuilt. Did others now live there, like nothing had ever happened? Like it didn't even matter?
The guards at the front of the line let them through even before the horses stopped, and before she knew it, Gwen craned her neck to take in the new warehouses of the merchant's quarter they had just entered. The edges of the quarters consisted mostly of buildings like this, filled with all different kinds of products. Some of those products would stay here only for a short while before being transported elsewhere, whereas the rest would find its way to the markets that Vengerberg was known for.
Had been known for.
If there was one upside to the fact that Gwen's mother had been killed and she herself had fled the city, it was that neither of them had been around for the Invasion of Dol Angra. Four years later, signs of the battle were still visible. One could see it in the new, modern buildings that stood next to empty lots. There were more products than there was space, and builders roamed the area carrying wood and other supplies.
If a place like the merchant's quarter had not yet caught up, Gwen did not want to imagine what the slums looked like.
Luckily, she would not find out just yet. Richard guided the cart in the opposite direction of the slums, instead moving them closer towards the centre of the city. Even from where they were, the castle of Vengerberg rose like a mountain on a flat plane. Though Gwen noted the fact that some towers had disappeared and others had sprung up, it still looked much the same as it had twenty years ago.
Of course it did. As long as the king and his family was safe and sound, what did it matter if a few thousand poor sods were dragged off and tortured?
The people in the streets stopped what they were doing to stare at the wagons that passed them by. It took a single glance to their shackles and the guards to figure out what they were seeing. Some of the passers-by leered and yelled at them. A couple even began to throw rocks and fruit.
A human pointed at her and spit Gwen in her face just before she could turn away. Though his voice was swallowed by the clamour of those around him, the word on his lips was obvious. Elf.
On the cart behind them, one of the captives got up from her seat and roared loudly. She tried to launch herself from her seat and into the crowd, snarling like a wild dog. It would have worked, had Francis not anticipated the move and positioned his horse just so that he could grab her before she got too far. As though she were a sack of potatoes, he threw her back into the wagon, where another guard had unsheathed his sword.
Gwen watched the ordeal feeling strangely empty, even more so when she recognised herself in the young woman. Only half a year ago, she might have acted exactly the same had she been put in this situation. Fuck that, she had acted like this on several occasions. Now, however… Now she could only stare, too tired to wind herself up. She no longer had the energy to care.
The prisons were built beneath the castle but could only be entered through a small doorway at the back of the humongous building. Narrow pathways greeted them and they had to walk in single file to make their way deeper into the dark, wet jail. If one ignored the lack of freedom one had down here, the coolness that reigned here was almost a pleasant exchange for the sweltering heat outside.
Leading them was Richard, who took them through the building towards their cells. Guards and prisoners mingled in the line, prisoners shackled and deprived of the possibility to move properly while guards held their weapons at the ready. Two soldiers finished the line, just in case anybody got any stupid ideas.
The same woman from before tried once more to escape, breaking free from the rest with a desperate cry. A soldier was on her even before she had taken her third step, however, all but tackling her to the stones, at which she promptly began to shriek and kick and claw at her captor. It took Rodrick and a third guard to restrain her as they dragged her away. While they watched them go, Francis tapped his unsheathed sword against a wall, his eyes taking in their faces as they passed him by.
Gwen had no idea how much time had passed by the time everyone had been locked up in their respective cells. Her clothes were replaced by what could only be described as a ragged set of bags, but at least they allowed her to keep her bindings for her chest.
By some strange turn of events, she shared her cell with the nameless man, whose jawline was already being covered with quite a stubble that bordered on an actual beard. The walls dividing the cells were made of stones, depriving her of the view of her neighbours, but she could see those on the other side of the path just fine.
This was not the first time she had found her way to this dungeon. It seemed strange to think that she had most likely been down here before most of the humans currently here were born. As if she hadn't already felt old enough these past few days.
With a sigh, she settled herself on the thin layer of straw in a corner at the back of the cell. Now all she could do was wait.
Hours faded and blended into each other, and Gwen spent most of them teetering on the border between sleep and wakefulness. She went back to ignoring her food, finding whatever this place served to be even less appetising than what the guards had made on the road. With the silent man keeping her company, nobody bothered talk to her, and that suited her just fine as she confined herself to her own little world. Since Richard had other guardly duties to attend to in Vengerberg, she rarely saw him anymore.
As such, she had no idea how much time had passed when the sound of footsteps echoed throughout the dungeon. The lack of armour clinking seemed to pique the interest of the other prisoners, who crawled to their grates and watched the new arrival draw closer.
"Well, well, well," an annoyingly familiar voice drawled, dragging the half-elf out of her daze. "If it isn't Gwen. Funny meetin' you here."
Standing before her on the other side of cell door was Quinn, one of the few half-elves Gwen knew. He looked exactly as he had twenty years ago, his human blood making him larger than even most full-blooded humans, his square shoulders easily filling up rooms with his imposing stature. The only sign of his elven nature lay in the sharpened tips of his ears.
"You haven't changed at all," she murmured and stepped towards him, reached for his face with dirty, calloused fingers. The scar she had once carved into his cheek during practice, that started just beneath his left eye and ran down his jaw to disappear in the stubble there, was exactly like she remembered it. He looked older, his dark hair greying at the edges, but that was to be expected with the prominence of his human features. It seemed surreal that he was still alive, a piece from her past that she had thought all but gone.
"You look like shit," he offered with a grin, showing off his sharp canines. "I thought I look old and I'm probably supposed to age like this. You look like you're three hundred."
Gwen snorted and shook her head weakly. "I feel like it, too."
"Speakin' of which…" His gaze moved from her to the other occupant of her cell, to the cells that stretched out throughout the dungeon, then back to her. "How did you even end up here? I thought you were… Y'know." He hesitated for a moment. "Dead."
"I could ask you the same thing, couldn't I? Weren't you here when Nilfgaard attacked? How did you survive that?" the half-elf retorted with a raised brow.
With a bark of laughter, Quinn held his hands up in front of him, palms facing her. "Still deflectin' questions like a professional, I see. A lot of us made it out just in time. Not everyone sees an army comin' and thinks, 'You know what? We'll stay just here. What could possibly go wrong?'" He sighed and rubbed a hand across his face. "When reports came in that Aldersberg was under attack, many of us decided to get out while we still could. Came back as soon as the fightin' was over to start rebuildin', though."
Gwen had half a mind to ask who, exactly, 'us' was in this story, but it didn't really matter in the end. Quinn was alive and standing in front of her. That was more important than whether he grouped himself with humans or nonhumans. At least for now. Then again, she had given him enough shit for that in the past. His scar was a testament to that.
"Glad to hear that, then. What would they have possibly done without you?" she jibed, but received no response.
Lowering his head, Quinn rested his forehead against an iron bar of the grates and still managed to stare down at her with his insistent gaze, his pale blue eyes poking holes in her mental armour. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, "I thought you were dead. Your house— scratch that, the whole street was gone, and so were you. Do you have any idea what that looked like? What it felt like?"
"Yeah, well, I had to actually live through it," Gwen snapped and glared at the toes of her bare feet. As soon as the anger had appeared, however, it also ebbed away, and she slumped against the stone wall with a sigh. "The fire, it was meant for me. A present from Demavend, I suppose. My mother saved me from death by sending me to the market. Didn't save me from the sight of the house on fire, though. So, I ran."
The man's eyebrows disappeared beneath the strands of light brown hair that covered his forehead. "Ran? Just like that? Didn't even check to—"
"Just like that," the other stated through gritted teeth as she looked up again. "Stayed in Aedirn until recently, though. Mostly kept to the forests, away from villages, that kind of thing."
Quinn clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, never once breaking eye contact. His inner conflict was visible in the way the lines around his mouth deepened and how his eyes, which darted around her for signs of who knew what, narrowed slightly. Finally, he asked, "Until recently?"
"I, ah… got caught. Stennis sent me to Flotsam, sold me to the commandant there, on the condition that I never return. I found the Scoia'tael there, or rather, they found me, and…" The half-elf swallowed thickly and went back to staring at her feet. "Took me in. Until we travelled to Vergen, where Stennis also happened to be, and then… I ended up back here."
"I get the feelin' that you're leavin' out most of it," Quinn remarked dryly after a short pause.
"If you get me some pen and paper, I'll make a book out of it for you."
"Don't bother. You know I don't like to read." Just like that, whatever tension had existed between them disappeared, and Quinn reached forward to flick her forehead. She let out a yelp, but before she could react, he said, "This sure brings back memories though, doesn't it? You basically grew up in this place."
"What do you mean, 'growing up'?" Gwen shook her head, a small smile playing on her chapped lips. "By the time we met, I was older than you'll ever be."
At that, Quinn choked on his spit and doubled over, coughing and laughing at the same time, which only made his sputtering all the worse. "I already am older than you were back then!"
"Really?" The woman gasped loudly and pressed a hand to her chest, ignored the discomfort it caused in her breasts. "That human blood of yours is a real shit show, isn't it? Older than I was when we met, and still I look better than you do."
"Oh fuck off. You look like a right pile of shit yourself."
"Now, Quinn, that's not something you tell your elder."
"Then act like it."
The sound of them laughing softly rang throughout the narrow path and Gwen stopped, suddenly feeling conscious of herself. Quinn's chuckles died down soon afterwards.
Grasping an iron bar in each hand, Gwen, suddenly serious, muttered, "How did you know I was here anyway?"
"I heard of a half-elf who was bein' held prisoner down here. Since there aren't many who get in here alive, I decided to ask around, heard some mentions of Stennis's bastard aunt-somethin'. So, I decided to pay you a visit," Quinn offered with a slight shrug.
"But why? Why did you come? We haven't seen each other in twenty years. So much has changed." Exhaling deeply, Gwen bit her lip and shook her head so that strands of her hair shifted to cover her face.
Her friend didn't need to see what had become of her. He had known her the way Elric had moulded her, angry and bitter and full of hate. Though she had never told him of what had happened, he had gathered enough bits and pieces by himself, mostly from conversations with her mother. But he had still known her when she was still so… alive, although perhaps she hadn't felt like actually having a life.
Now… now she felt like a broken shell of what she once was. Exhausted, devoid of the will to fight for the next day. Whereas in the past, she would have taken on anybody who even looked at her strangely, in that moment, she couldn't have cared less. And it shamed her, especially now that she stood beside a fragment of her former life. She didn't want him to see her like this.
"What do you mean, 'why'?" Her old friend looked at her, incredulous. His eyes sought hers for a sign of… whatever. When he didn't find what he was looking for, he lowered his brows. He glanced at something off to the side and said, "Just comin' to check up on a friend I haven't seen in far too long. I work here now, y'know, so I'll never be far." As if remembering something, he took a step away from the cell. "Speakin' of which, my break ends soon, so I better go back. Don't you anythin' stupid, okay?"
Gwen watched him go with a frown, chewing her lower lip as she did so.