[A/N]: TAM TAM TAMMMM THE REVEAL NOBODY WAS EXPECTING.

Song is Praying by Kesha.

As flies and other insects surely began to cover Quinn's body, the trio continued the slow trek back north, though 'trek' wasn't quite the right word for it.

Gwen staggered after Ivor and James, who rarely spoke to each other. Even Ivor and his gentle disposition did not know what to do with surly, brute, silent James. The human's mood was even worse than usual after what had recently happened, and so Ivor instead directed his attention towards the half-elf. She, however, stared in front of her and ignored everything, instead letting her friend guide her along by the hand.

When she was offered food or water, she ate or drank without asking where it came from. When someone asked her to gather wood for a fire, she stumbled into the forest and came back carrying enough twigs for half a week. When Ivor asked her a question, she offered single-syllable responses and let James fill in the rest with curt explanations.

To put it simply; it could have been better.

"It's my fault," Gwen whispered one evening, her lips stinging when she parted them. She didn't look away from the campfire, huddled up beneath a blanket Ivor had brought with him, and could only imagine the state of Quinn's body right then. Probably staring up at the night sky with empty eyes – if he still had those to begin with.

"What is?" Ivor asked, sounding like he was speaking to a distressed child. Even beneath the numbing layer that had settled over the half-elf, his voice managed to soothe some part of her, buried deep inside of her.

Even so, it didn't stop the tears from gathering at the corners of her eyes and slipping down her cheeks.

"Gwen?" The elf reached out with knitted brows and caught a drop before it could fall from her chin.

Gwen wrapped her fingers around his wrist and held his hand there, warm against her face. "He's dead because of me."

On the other side of the fire, James shifted until he lay on his back on the ground with his hands clasped over his stomach. Had she paid more attention to him, she would have seen how he rotated his thumbs around each other.

"Why does… everybody… get hurt… or… or killed? Ivor… I… I'm so tired of all this… this…" She couldn't find the words, so instead she lowered her teeth into her lips until she tasted blood.

Ivor's fingers clenched her jaw, the pressure forcing her to let go of her lip. He watched her with his grey eyes, eyes she hadn't realised she had missed so very much. They lingered on the tattoos that clawed their way up her jawline, followed the wet trails across her skin. He said nothing, though.

"Does it ever get any better?" A question that should have held hope, but instead only betrayed her despair. After all, she, better than anyone else, knew the answer to it.

So it didn't really surprise her when she caught sight of the minute shake of Ivor's head. He hesitated, as if reluctant to ruin whatever dreams she may or may not have nurtured at the time.

Neither of them said a word after that. Ivor shifted to wrap his arms around his companion, pulling her frame, trembling ever so slightly, to his chest. And when her breathing eventually evened out, he let himself examine her properly. This was the first time he had gotten this close to her since their first meeting. Back then, however, he had been too overwhelmed by the whole situation to do anything other than hold Gwen and listen to her wails.

Her period in captivity hadn't done her any good. Much of the fat and muscle she had built during her time in the forests of Flotsam, she had already lost once more. Even so, she somehow almost seemed fuller in other places, a most peculiar observation that Ivor filed away for later.

For now, he just wanted her to get back on her feet again. Though he knew that, with every time she got knocked back down, it would get more and more difficult for her to pull herself up. But that was what he was here for, right?

Sometimes, words could simply not be spoken. Especially if one had been in the same situation, one knew that nothing could be said to fix things. Time was a healer of wounds, after all, no matter the scars that remained. Words weren't always necessary, or even wanted.

Which was why the majority of the trip up north was spent in silence. When they first set out, most that was said was in order to let the others know about recent developments. How Gwen and James had escaped from Vengerberg. That Iorveth had sent Ivor back to Flotsam. Gwen's relationship with Quinn. The fact that Geralt and Iorveth would have left for Loc Muinne by now.

"Loc Muinne?" Gwen had asked.

"For a summit. Iorveth wasn't very clear about it…" Ivor had shaken his head. "Iorveth was always very clear about everything. He used to share all his plans with me. He always asked me for advice, even when it came to matters I knew nothing of, and still he would listen. When I asked him what had changed all that, he sent me for Flotsam."

"Asshole."

Ivor had shot her a frown. "Gwen, you know just as well as I do that Iorveth always has a reason for everything he does."

Crossing her arms, Gwen had muttered, "So then tell me why he sold me out."

"I don't know," the elf had answered, lifting his hands with the palms up, fingers spread out. "But I do know he has a reason for it nonetheless. I worry about him."

That was after they had already decided that they would journey north, back towards Vergen, to find out the whereabouts of the elves.

Otherwise, they travelled in silence. Gwen and Ivor walked side by side, so close to each other that their hands occasionally grazed each other, with James up front. Every now and then they would talk shortly, but the conversations always died down sooner rather than later. The human mostly communicated through single words and grunts, and only when someone asked him a direct question.

And thus, the days went by uneventfully. They got up with the sun, leaving their camp and finding the path once more. They walked until they were tired and took a break, after which they went on their way again. With summer came long days, so they had plenty of time to search a new place for the night and hunt for dinner. With the woods being this lush, it was hard not to find enough food for the three of them.

That was why, when Gwen stopped walking, even James turned around, his face for once not set with that scowl of his. Her face was pale and her eyes wide, her expression the embodiment of panic. Ivor opened his mouth and was about to ask her if she was okay, but before he could, she darted off the road and disappeared between the bushes.

Ivor went after her at once, leaving James on his own with his brows raised and his hands on his hips. So many things ran through the elf's mind as he raced after his friend. A gnawing fear, wondering if she had somehow finally snapped. Or if she had heard something, some danger nearby.

But then he recognised the sound of someone vomiting and he found the half-elf on her hands and knees, hunched over the ground and heaving violently.

"Are you all right?" he asked though she was very much not 'all right' as he knelt beside her and ran a hand down her back. Beneath his touch, he felt her body shiver whenever it relaxed for even a moment.

Gwen understandably said nothing and only clenched her eyes shut while her stomach emptied itself, despite the fact that she had barely eaten anything lately. She had refused most of the food that he had offered her, accepting only the bare necessities to stay somewhat fit. Ivor frowned but said nothing, instead just rubbing his friend's back.

Her body did not feel warmer than usual and the sweat that covered her face had appeared only when she started throwing up. It was all but impossible for her to have eaten something bad, too.

There was nothing Ivor could do but shrug it off. By then he had to help Gwen get to her feet, so he was left with no more time to ponder the situation.

"Feel better?" he asked.

Gwen only nodded before she made her way back to James, who still stood waiting for them. The human tilted his head to the side as he waited for the two of them to catch up to him. Once they had gotten close enough, he turned and was on his way again, without displaying any interest in what had happened. He was the first human Ivor had encountered in a long time that he could not read. From what he could garnered from the bits and pieces that Gwen had told him, James had been a prisoner like her and had won his freedom through a game of cards. She had not been able to tell him much more than that, or had been unwilling to do so.

"Say," he started as they started following James again. "I know you said you want to find Iorveth again… But what do you plan on doing when you actually find him?"

The half-elf tensed and refused to look at him. For half a moment, he thought she might throw up again. "Just… talk to him. Ask… ask him why he did… what he did."

"I wish I would tell you that myself," Ivor murmured with a sigh that made his shoulders sag.

"That's why we'll find him." Finally, she looked at him. Her brown eyes seemed darker due to the rings beneath them. In that moment, she looked so old and tired that Ivor feared she really might not recover this time.

He thought back to how she had looked when he had found her in Loredo's room, naked and bleeding on that bed. He could remember little about that day beside the motion of cutting the ropes binding her wrists. Back then, her gaze had been empty, her lively brown irises having turned a muddy colour. If it weren't for the anger that had still burned somewhere deep within them, now and then, he would have worried a lot more.

For now, he could only believe that she would pull through yet again. That stubborn nature of hers was one of the reasons why only she could keep up with Iorveth, after all. It made it all the more unfortunate that the commander had thrown her to the side like he had, though Ivor refused to believe that the leader did not have a good reason for it. He had to. Otherwise, it would mean that he had known his friend less well than that he had thought.

"I'm tellin' ya!" the bald farmer yelled and waved his pitchfork to and fro. Gwen took a step back, afraid he might accidentally prick her with it. "Me cousin's friend 'imself was there! Saw it wit 'is very own eyes!"

All three of them stared at him, glancing at the pitchfork every now and then.

"Okay…" Gwen began slowly, "You're telling us that your cousin's friend, and any other witnesses who were there, saw a dragon flying over Loc Muinne?"

"'At's wha' I've been tellin' ya!" the man replied with yet another wave of his pitchfork. His other hand stroked the blond moustache that covered his upper lip.

"And then everyone started slaughtering each other, is that right?"

"Aye, aye. Me cousin's friend saw it all wit 'is very own eyes."

"Bad things? Like what? Dragons soaring through the sky and wars breaking out, all because of one dead Squirrel?"

The farmer continued almost cheerfully, "And from me wife's uncle who lives to the south, I heard that those bloody Nilfgaardians…"

Gwen never heard the end of it, for by then black dots had appeared before her eyes, darting around her field of vision like playful faeries that eluded her gaze whenever she tried to look at them. All of a sudden, her head felt like it was no longer attached to her body, and before she knew it, she hit the ground with a thud.

Oh Iorveth, what have you done this time?

When Gwen opened her eyes, the first thing to cross her mind was, Another dreamless sleep. Unlike other times, however, this time she felt like that hadn't slept at all. With that dull ache still in her bones, the half-elf sat up.

A stab of pain through her head had her hands flying up to her face, where they found a piece of cloth wrapped around her head.

Dragons soaring through the sky and wars breaking out, all because of one dead Squirrel?"

That's right. The farmer, he had spoken of the summit where apparently everything had gone wrong. Something with Nilfgaard and Iorveth and…

"And because without him, many bad things will happen."

"And when he does happen to die, I'll get to lead my life never knowing if I failed or not. Is that what you're saying?"

Her throat constricted and her stomach felt like it had tied itself into a knot. Clapping her hands over her mouth and closing her eyes, she hunched over. The hate that had permeated her limbs, forcing her to move well past her limits these past few days, turned cold all at once. Needles of regret stung her, causing her skin to itch. Her fingers flinched at the familiar sensation and gripped the bed sheets until her knuckles turned white.

The scent of baked goods wafted in through the doorway that led out to a hall. For the blink of an eye, the woman thought she was home again, back in Vengerberg. She would get up and find her mother waiting for her at the dining table, bread from the bakery littering its surface.

Then the moment was gone, the switch between moods almost leaving her prone, just in time for the bile to rise at the back of her throat. Even then, there was nothing but saliva, since there was nothing left inside of her except for stomach acids.

"Again?!" Ivor's voice rang out behind her all of a sudden just as he pressed his hands to her back again.

Tears stung her eyes when the smell of bread grew stronger and turned foul. Though when she couldn't stop retching, it wasn't her being sick that made her cry.

There had been only one other time in her entire life that the smell of baked goods had made her vomit.

"Gwen?" Ivor's hand stilled its rubbing when the sobs racked her body. She merely shook her head, hoping that her hair, longer now, would fall in front of her face. "Gwen, what's wrong?"

"Oh dear!" A grey-haired woman rushed into the room. She came prepared, dragging a bucket of water and a mop with her. "You hit your head quite hard when you fell, didn't you?"

The half-elf nodded mutely, refusing to look her friend in the eye. Instead she stared at the older woman as she began to clean the floor while humming a tune under her breath.

"I… I'm sorry," Gwen managed in a hoarse voice.

The stranger waved the apology away and smiled. "'s quite all right. Happens to the best of us, doesn't it?"

Gwen and Ivor watched her finish up cleaning. It didn't take much longer before she got up and straightened her back. She stretched herself out until something in her body popped, after which she smiled at the couple. "Breakfast's ready if you feel up for it. Your other friend's there as well."

"Thank you," Ivor replied. His hands hadn't left her yet. "We'll be there in a bit."

Once the woman disappeared down the hall, Gwen asked, without turning around, "What happened?"

The elf finally pulled back slowly, as if fearing she might be sick again, and sat down in front of her with his legs crossed. Truth be told, she felt like she might, too, but he didn't need to know that. Right then, there were many things he did not need to know.

"After hearing about what happened at Loc Muinne, you fainted and hit your head when you fell. The farmer's wife took care of the bleeding and had us carry you here. That was yesterday." Ivor brushed a strand of hair out of Gwen's sweat-covered face. "You had me scared there. And with… well…"

There was uncertainty in his voice and when the half-elf finally lifted her gaze to meet his, she could actually see the fear in his cloudy eyes. She wanted so badly to just tell him about everything. About the seed of fear that had planted its seed in the pit of her stomach. About how she felt disconnected from everything happening around her. About how tired she was. About how she wanted to stab Iorveth with a blade. About how she refused to think of the possibility that he was dead, because if so, then what was there left for her to do with her life?

Sooner or later she would have to tell him about most of it, if not everything. And she would, but not right now. Right now, she just wanted to lie in this bed and stare at the wooden ceiling. No matter how much time she spent out in the wilderness, lying in a room like this would always make her feel a fraction more at peace.

And so instead she smiled and ruffled his dark hair, only then noticing just how much it had grown. "Don't you worry about me. I'll be fine."

Though he did not look quite convinced, he returned the gesture and pushed himself up from the bed. "Just so you know, we've decided to stay here for a short while. A few days, at most. We're not even a day's worth of travelling from Vergen, we're relatively safe out here, and you need to recover from whatever's bothering you."

"Fine," Gwen said with a sigh. Ivor's brows rose, and she shrugged. "I'd just be a burden to you otherwise."

Ivor chuckled and returned the ruffle. "Believe me, you wouldn't be a burden to me even if you tried."

"Don't tempt me." The grin that parted her lips felt unfamiliar, but she welcomed the sensation nonetheless. "But before that, I think I need something to eat. Just… just none of that." The half-elf sniffed and gestured to the air.

"You have something against bread? Too luxurious for you, miss?" her friend asked as he nudged her in the side, though at the same time he drew his eyebrows together again.

"No. I just don't feel like it right now."

The elf stared at her for a while longer, that half-smile still playing on his lips, before he nodded and got up. He held out a hand for her and said, "All right then. Let's go find you something to eat."

After getting dressed, Gwen followed Ivor to the room where the others already sat around the table. James nibbled on a piece of bread in silence while he listened to the farmer complain about the harvest. On the other side of the table were two other men and one woman. The old woman from before stood behind the stove and shot them a smile that made the corners of her dark eyes crinkle when they entered.

Here, the smell of the eggs overpowered that of the bread, and Gwen's stomach rumbled loudly.

"Feeling better, are you?" the older woman asked with a laugh, to which Gwen responded with a nod. "Here, have some of these."

Even before the two of them could sit down, plates full of scrambled eggs were placed before them. Gwen could only stare at it, for her brain refused to cooperate. The last time she had been taken in by humans, she had been a captive. What reason did these people have to help her now?

As paranoia crept into the back of her mind, Ivor nudged her in the side before he claimed a chair. He must have sensed the shift in her mood and shot her a look begging her to be quiet. "Thank you very much. It smells lovely."

"Why… Why are you doing all of this for us?" The half-elf gestured at the table as she ignored the weight of seven gazes settling on her.

"But why wouldn't we?" the girl asked with a frown, which Gwen only saw after she blew the blonde bangs out of her face.

The elderly woman smiled again and brushed a strand of her hair that had escaped her bun behind her ear. "From what your friend here told us, it seems that you were in danger after abandoning your camp of elves. And when you fainted on our doorstop, how could we not offer you our help?"

"Now I know tha' Squirrels are a despicable people an' all that. But bein' punished tryin' ta do the right thing…" The farmer shook his head before he stuffed a chunk of bread into his mouth. "Scandalous!"

"Even after having marked yourself in such a way…" His wife gestured towards her cheek, her eyes on the ink covering the lower parts of Gwen's face.

The walls of the room began to move in on her as paranoia turned into panic and her chest became too large for her own skin. What had James told them? What could she possibly say to go along with the situation? Wouldn't she just ruin the illusion no matter what she did?

And so with that voice screaming in her mind, she placed one hand on Ivor's shoulder and the other on her stomach. "Sorry for my distrust… It is hard to come by trustworthy people these days, it seems. My partner and I, we joined the Squirrels believing it would be the right thing for our kind. It was not appreciated when we found out we were expecting, however, and we finally saw them for what they truly are."

Something flickered in Ivor's eyes, but it passed too soon for Gwen to recognise it. He bit his lip before he said, "It seems that they are just as bad as they claim humans to be." He turned to look at James. "This young man was kind enough to accompany us as we made our way to Vergen, where it is said that elves and humans can live side by side in peace. We lost some comrades on our way here and are in need of some respite before we are on our way again."

One of the other men – the younger one, by the looks of it – scoffed. His chair screeched when he pushed it back before storming off, out of the room.

"Ah, don't mind him," the remaining man said. "Bill's had a bit o' a bad experience with your kind, so he doesn't do too well around you lot."

"Cam!" the girl hissed and jerked backwards.

Cam yelped and reached for his leg beneath the table. "What was that for?!"

"Shut it, both o' ya!" the farmer shouted. "What are ya? Twelve?!"

"Come now, dear. It's difficult for all of them," the mother of the group stated as she sat down beside James at the other end of the table. "How far along are you, dear?"

Swallowing hard, the half-elf did a quick calculation before responding, "Two months, give or take."

"How exciting!" The woman clapped her hands together. Her enthusiasm died down rather quickly when she noted, "Quite dangerous for a mother-to-be to wander around like you are, though. Wouldn't it be best to stay here for a while longer? At least until the little one is born?"

Gwen froze. She hadn't even had the time to properly think through her current situation since realising what might be wrong with her. She didn't even know why she had used this story to begin with. The more they spoke about it, however, the more the situation dawned upon her.

She opened her mouth but quickly closed it again, afraid she might become sick once more. Before she could, Ivor grabbed her wrist and all but dragged her into the chair beside him.

"Thanks for the offer, but that's really quite all right! We have some people waiting for us in Vergen who can take care of us." The elf smiled his brightest smile yet, but his tight grip on her wrist betrayed his emotions. Somehow, Gwen had a feeling they were going to have a long talk if they ever managed to survive this.

"Good, good!" the farmer exclaimed through a mouthful of eggs. His wife leaned over the table and smacked him on the arm, after which he wiped his mouth with a hand. "If ye 'scuse us, we've got a farm to tend to. Cameron, Peggy, go 'n fetch Bill 'n follow me after."

"Yes dad," the two of them muttered before shovelling the last of their breakfasts into their mouths. They said their goodbyes and disappeared through the same door as Bill.

One could almost cut the silence that settled in the room once they had left. James continued to eat his meal at a leisurely pace, unperturbed by it all. Ivor, still gripping Gwen, started breaking his fast as well, that pleasant smile never once slipping from his face. The half-elf, who began to think that Ivor's grasp might be a comfort thing for the elf himself more than anything else, poked at her eggs with a fork, suddenly having lost all of her appetite but still adamant on eating at least a bite.

The old woman sat at her end of the table, her elbows on its surface and her chin on her knuckles. With her eyes closed and a large smile on her face, she looked satisfied and at peace. For half a moment, Gwen feared the poor woman might have died then and there. She hadn't, however, and after a while she got up, whistling the same tune she had been humming before as she started to collect the plates that the others had left behind.

By the time the half-elf managed to empty her plate, a feat of which she was rather proud, James had already left as well, muttering something about a bath, and Ivor had finally let go of her, albeit reluctantly. That left the three of them in the stifling atmosphere, although it seemed like the old woman had yet to notice it.

When all the plates had been rinsed and the table cleaned, she sat back down again on her chair and took up the same position as before. Gwen rubbed her hands across her thighs in a vain attempt to clear them of the sweat that covered them as she waited for somebody to say something.Anything.

"So, where did you lot come from to begin with? I haven't heard anything of elven camps set up nearby, so you must have travelled from quite far away, haven't you?"

"We came from Vengerberg," Gwen said. "There's a settlement near there. They left us to be found by soldiers, but James, he helped us escape."

"That friend of yours doesn't say a lot, does he?"

"No, he doesn't… But he's okay. He has his moments."

The woman chuckled at that. "Vengerberg, huh. Did you travel all the way by foot? There were no horses with you when we found you."

Something had been looming over Gwen since the moment she had woken up. In the midst of the chaos known as breakfast, she had all but forgotten about it. Now that they were all alone, it had reappeared, and the half-elf couldn't ignore it any longer. "Miss…"

"Oh dear, just call me Delores."

"Fine. Delores, your husband told us about what had happened at the summit of Loc Muinne, but he skimmed over many details. I was wondering if maybe you could tell us more about what went wrong?"

Just like that, the smile on Delores's face disappeared and she sighed. Gwen felt herself tense under the woman's gaze. "The real question is, what didn't go wrong? This is nothing people such as yourselves should be interested in."

"The thing is…" Gwen started, but her voice failed her when she tried to speak the words. Her throat tightened again, and she wondered if she would really start crying again, here and now.

"A friend of ours was there and we haven't heard of him since," Ivor finished for her. This time, when his hand found hers, it was to give it a gentle squeeze.

She needed it when the old women sucked in a breath in between her teeth and said, "I'm so sorry…"

The half-elf shook her head so hard her hair bobbed to and fro with the movement. "No, there's still hope. Just tell us what you know." When Delores remained silent, she added, "Please."

"…I don't know much, and what I do know, I know from hearsay, so who's to say what is or isn't true? But from what I've heard, Temeria will remain independent, and there was some nonsense about the Conclave of Mages reforming. Not that that matters any to us. We all pretend everything is fine and dandy, but we also hear of Nilfgaardians attacking towns that lie north of the Yaruga, and so we make sure we are ready for an attack. The sooner you leave here, the better, to tell the truth. Vergen will surely be able to defend you. I hope."

Nilfgaardians north of the Yaruga, Temeria almost torn apart, a reformed Conclave of Mages. It sounded like the underworld had cracked open and all the demons were crawling out, one by one.

"A dragon," Gwen murmured, "your husband, he said something about a dragon…"

"I know. It sounds too crazy to be real, doesn't it? That's exactly why I believe it's true. A dragon attacked the city, burned dozens of fine men to death before flying off. And then the knights started killing each other off, not caring for those caught in the middle. Those who bring the news with them were lucky enough that they weren't at the summit itself, or else they might not have survived either."

Dragons soaring through the sky and wars breaking out, all because of one dead Squirrel?"

By now, Ivor's squeeze had turned into full-blown kneading.

"If your friend was anywhere near there, there's a good chance he simply didn't make it. I'm so sorry…"

Gwen wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but instead she remained silent and stared at nothing. Off to the side, as if from a large distance, she heard Ivor say something, but for the life of her she couldn't have guessed what it was.

There was no way Iorveth had died… Was there?

"I… I need to go…" And with that, the half-elf got up and all but stumbled out of the kitchen.