[A/N]: A long chapter! 6.5k words, so enjoy :) Chapter title is by Dance Gavin Dance.

The next morning found only the three of them and the family's mother at the table for breakfast.

"There's a gathering at the farm next door," Delores explained as she handed them plates filled with scrambled eggs and thin strips of bacon. Ivor and James also received a warm piece of bread. "Everyone goes there to sell their wares and buy other necessities. Greg will go out soon too, so I'd best go help him." With one last smile, she left the three of them on their own.

Though slightly nauseated by the smell of bread, Gwen tried her best to ignore it and enjoy her meal as much as possible, hoping it would not see daylight again. In an attempt to distract herself, she turned to James, whom she hadn't seen a lot since arriving here, and asked, "How have you been holding up, James?"

The man gave her a look that she interpreted as, 'I should be asking you that.' Though the two of them hadn't spoken since she had revealed her… current condition, he had not seemed all that surprised. With those keen eyes of his, it wouldn't have surprised her if he had known it even before she had.

But instead he announced, "I've decided to stay here."

"What?" Gwen put down her fork and stared at the human. Her mind was barely holding together as it was, and she felt like her entire world was hanging by a rope. With every change, be it the death of Quinn, the loss of Richard, the disaster at Loc Muinne or the realisation that she had somehow gotten pregnant again, a thread of rope snapped and her world came closer to dropping into the void down below.

Ivor's hand was on her in a flash, almost as if to hold her down, but the half-elf barely even registered the touch.

"They need all the help they can get," James added in what must have been the longest sentence he had ever spoken to her. "Especially with the Black Ones crossing the Yaruga. You know better than anyone how it goes. There'll be a war, and no way people like this can afford to leave this place behind."

Gwen opened her mouth, though she had no idea what she wanted to say. "You promised—"

"I promised Quinn to get you home." James gestured towards the elf beside her. "This is as close to home as it gets, from what I hear. Besides, you heard what he said. I don't deserve to be treated like a human. Those elves of yours, wherever they might be, they're gonna treat me as exactly that. Better to stay here and work like a farm animal. Do some good for a change."

Tearing her watery gaze away from his determined one, Gwen stared at her full plate, all appetite vanished. "Nothing I say will make you change your mind, will it?"

From the corner of her eye, she saw him shake his head. The knuckles on her hands turned white as she tightened her grip on her knife and fork, afraid she might chuck them at someone. Everyone and everything around her was changing without her permission, without waiting until she was ready.

Stop acting like a child, she heard herself tell herself. The world isn't about you. It never has been and it never will be. Suck it up.

She drew in a deep breath through her nose and swallowed hard before looking up. James was still staring at her, his face blank, but still waiting to see if she would be all right. And so, thinking about how, no matter how much she disagreed with his way of living, he, too, had gone through a shitload to get to this point, she shot him a small smile. One that said that she would always be all right. Or so she hoped.

"All right then," she whispered with a nod. "If that is what you want." Her hold on her utensils slackened and she hesitated for a moment. "I suppose you'll be more welcome here than wherever we end up."

"That is for sure," Ivor added as he glanced at her. It seemed that he had worried about that for a while longer. Catching her look, he lifted his shoulders and said, "You know how our squad treated an inh'eid such as yourself. What do you think they'll do to a dh'oine, even one we bring along?"

"You may not have noticed, but I haven't really been doing any practical thinking at all lately," the half-elf admitted before stuffing a forkful of egg into her mouth.

James chuckled before digging in as well. Hearing the sound of laughter rumble through his chest, Gwen couldn't help but be happy and sad at the same time. Somehow, she had gotten attached to his presence. It would be strange to sit by a campfire in the forest without his heavy breathing on the other side.

"When will you be leaving, then?" the man asked through a mouthful of bread.

"Whenever she's feeling up to it, I suppose," Ivor replied, after which two sets of eyes landed upon the half-elf once more.

Though she had enjoyed the peace and quiet here, she was already starting to feel restless. Staying still for this long only worsened the feeling of being trapped, and this way there was so much time to think about everything. Besides, the longer they loitered around, the worse their chances of finding out if anybody had survived Loc Muinne. And with the Nilfgaardians supposedly approaching…

She swallowed and said, "The sooner the better, I think."

The others nodded at that. None knew what to say then, and so everyone concentrated on their plates instead. James was the first one to finish his food, but instead of leaving like Gwen had expected him to do, he sat back.

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked with a nod in her direction.

"Well, first of all we should get to Vergen, I think."

"Not that," the man added. "I meant with the kid."

Taken aback by the fact that he even seemed to care, Gwen could not even open her mouth to attempt an answer.

"I used to have one. To tell the truth, they're a lot more work than they're worth." Though those were the words that left his lips, the warmth that crept in his voice went against what he had just said.

"I know," the half-elf snapped. Taken aback by her own tone, she repeated herself softly, "I know."

So many questions hung in the air, but until then their policy had been to not ask anything that might be deemed too personal. It surprised Gwen that he had even offered that piece of information to begin with. Perhaps it was his way of helping her with the situation.

"But no, I don't know what I am going to do with it. I'll deal with things as they come."

"We will," Ivor said, setting his fork down beside his empty plate.

James nodded and finally got up. "Guess it helps to not be alone." Without bothering to say anything else, he cleaned up his spot at the table and exited the kitchen, leaving the half-elf and her other companion by themselves.

"When will we be leaving?" Ivor asked before the silence could settle again.

Without thinking, Gwen said, "Tonight."

The moon illuminated the lands surrounding them as they set out once more. Goodbyes had been uttered, hugs and pats on the back had been doled out. After giving up her protests concerning their departure, Delores had handed Gwen a small package of food for the trip, holding her hands a little longer than necessary, smiling all the while. Greg, on the other hand, almost seemed glad to watch them go, though he voiced no such thoughts out loud. None of the others witnessed the departure, already fast asleep.

James had hung around the longest, the stiffness in his shoulders almost belying a sort of hesitance. With his hands in his pockets, he looked more like a farm boy about to confess his undying love for the neighbouring girl. The sight made the half-elf's heart clench in her chest, but she knew she could not and should not try to drag him away with her. Everyone had made their own decisions and each of them had the right to do as they willed.

"You take good care of yourself?" James offered without moving from his spot.

Ivor nodded and said, "You too. And good luck with whatever may cross your path."

The half-elf was having none of it, however, and instead she threw her arms around the burly man, her hands unable to touch each other at his back. James's figure became even more rigid, but soon he relaxed and even placed a hand on her head. "Don't go looking for trouble as much as before, all right?"

Both of them knew the promise was in vain, but still Gwen nodded. "I'll try."

That seemed good enough for the human, for he mustered up the tiniest of smiles before he freed himself from her grasp and took a step back. "You'd best get a move on now."

And with that, they were on their way once more, heading north towards Vergen in the hopes of finding at least a few answers to their many questions. With them they carried their bows and a dagger Gwen had found near the stables. James kept that sword, so it was only a fair trade.

Relief flooded Gwen's body at the sudden amount of movement, combined with the thought of being on their way again. That relief dissipated quickly, though. After all, the impact that the absence of a group member could have was strange. Gwen had thought that she would miss his presence itself the most, but it was much more than that. The empty space that used to be filled with the mere sound of his footsteps hung behind her like a ghost.

More than a few times she forgot that he was no longer with them. She would turn around to check up on him, only to falter for a moment.

"Are you all right?" Ivor asked the first time it happened.

"Yes… I just…" The half-elf threw another glance over her shoulder before meeting her friend's gaze. "It feels strange."

"I understand," he said, and his lips formed the words to convey his thoughts, but they did not leave his throat. Instead, he stared ahead of them and remained silent as they continued to walk. The distant look in his eyes told Gwen more than enough.

His calm nature was basically the opposite of her anger and hatred towards the world around her, which made it easy to forget that Ivor, too, had his own demons. She wondered if he remembered travelling with his mother or someone else he had been close with.

All of a sudden, she realised she had pressed a hand to her stomach. She tore it away with such violence that she almost stumbled over her own two feet. Though she caught herself just in time, fingers wrapped themselves around her upper arm to keep her steady. Ivor remained silent, but his frown said enough.

"Sorry!" the half-elf blurted before he could speak. "I'm fine!"

Her companion moved his other hand to her forehead, but without thinking she shied away from his touch. Instead of pulling back, Ivor kept it there, asking permission as he examined her face with grey eyes. Finally, she sighed and bent forward. After a short pause, Ivor nodded and pulled back.

"Really, you should be more careful." He offered her a crooked smile before continuing down the road. They were close to their destination, but still had quite a way to go, after all. With their pace and luck, they might reach Vergen in a day or two, and who knew what else might happen on the way there.

As the two of them made their way up north, they encountered all kinds of people. Their numbers seemed to swell the closer they got to the city. Farmers on carts pulled forth by horses, trying to either buy or sell the first harvest of hay of the year. Villagers who had fled at the first signs of Nilfgaardian nearing the borders. Scholars going back and forth, scouts being sent down to the Yaruga.

Most of them talked about the same thing: the brewing war. According to others, it had already started. Others refused to believe any of the sort, claiming it was all just some propaganda for the monarchy. They heard all sorts of tales of what was happening, with wraiths and crones and sorceresses roaming the lands according to many folks, until they stopped believing anything they heard.

Several times, they came across soldiers making their way either south or north on the backs of panting steeds. Beneath the bright sun, their coats shone with sweat. Usually the two of them caught sight of the humans in time to hide in the woods and bushes that lined the roads. Once, however, they missed the oncoming soldiers after the half-elf's stomach forced them to take a short break.

"Halt!" a soldier accompanied by two others yelled when he spotted the peculiar couple, one of whom sported the tell-tale ink of a Squirrel. "Who goes there?"

Even before they could answer, he had unsheathed his sword and circled around them, holding it high.

"Just two elves fleeing the Squirrels and the coming war," Ivor offered, lifting his hands with his palms towards the guards. "We mean no harm."

"Bill, they seem unarmed but for those… bows," one of the soldiers from behind the first spoke.

"We've more important thing to do than look after a pair o' knife ears," the other added.

The leader of the trio – Bill, apparently – squinted at his men from beneath his visor, then at the fugitives before putting his sword away with a huff. "So be it. King Stennis has given us orders of utmost importance, after all."

And with that, they stormed off once more, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake. Only when they disappeared beyond the horizon did Gwen dare to breathe again. Her hands, which she had curled into tight fists, relaxed.

"So, things really are starting to become serious," she mused as she shook her arms to release the tension from them.

Ivor hummed in agreement. "That means we must pick up the pace. If the soldiers are up and about like that, bandits are most likely to have a field day. And we still have a long way to go."

The rest of the day went by without incident, save for the merchants and travellers they came across. As the sun rose and fell once more, their pace dwindled. Every now and then Ivor would offer to stop by the side of the road for a while, but Gwen would have none of it.

"I'm pregnant, Ivor, not crippled," she spat at him. The sooner they got to Vergen, the sooner they would find answers, and Gwen was beginning to itch for those. Her fingers also wanted for a knife, but doing anything with one would be impossible with the elf watching her like a lioness watching its club. Ivor had not seemed convinced by her words, but he shrugged and continued anyway.

Ivor began asking passers-by on carts if they could ride with them. The first one scoffed at them but otherwise ignored them. The second yelled at them, "Get out of here, you bloody Squirrels!" and waved his whip at them, the end of it flicking against Gwen's cheek and drawing blood. The third, however, was an old farmer with a straw hat who allowed them to climb on board.

"Sir, sorry to bother you…" Ivor began as the man made his way around the couple.

"Hm? What'sa matta'? the farmer managed around the gaping hole where his two front teeth should have been.

Ivor began, "My wife, she is with child–"

"And we are fleeing to Vergen, away from the nasty Squirrels," Gwen added, placing one hand against her stomach and pointing the other north. Nausea swirled around inside of her, though she knew not which movement caused it.

"Therefore, would you be so kind as to allow us on your wagon? Though we have naught to pay you with…" the elf finished after shooting his friend a glance.

"Eh, I don't see why not." And with that, the old man stopped the cart so the two of them could hop on.

After murmuring their thanks, Ivor found a spot beside the man whereas Gwen made herself comfortable on top of the pile of hay in the back. With her arms behind her head, the sky soon began to swim in and out of her vision as her consciousness slipped away.

When she opened her eyes again, clouds covered the sun, casting darkness around her. Even so, the snow that blanketed everything brightened the world to the point that Gwen still had to squint.

"Gwenfrewi!" The oh so familiar voice laughed behind her. She turned just in time to note the scar that ran through Elric's right eye and that his hair had grown longer and darker before she was lifted into the air by a strong set of arms. Iorveth stood there in Elric's stead, lips spread in a manner that she had never seen on him before. He smiled at her and the sight of it disturbed her more than this dream usually did. "I heard from your mother. We're going to have a baby! We're going to have a baby!"

He twirled her around, her feet dangling uselessly as he danced with her. Something bubbled up within her, clawed its way up her throat, tickled her at the back of her mouth, and before she knew it, a laugh passed her lips. She grinned and nodded, black bangs falling into her eyes. Passers-by stared at them, some in confusion, others in happiness, and again others in disgust. As always, she ignored them.

When he finally set her down again, she almost sank to the ground, her head swimming with dizziness. His hands grasped her elbows before she could, however, and he held her close to him. Even through the many layers of clothing they wore, she felt the heat of his body.

He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, where she could feel the grin in his cheeks, and cradled the back of her head with his hand, fingers entwined with strands of hair. Then he whispered the words she had heard so many times.

"How dare you?"

The change, the difference, the deviation from the usual was enough to free her mind from the clutches of this dream.

"W-what?" she managed.

"It is bad enough as it is that it will only be part Aen Seidhe, but the matter of bringing a child into a world such as this is unforgivable," he hissed as the grasp on the back of her head tightened, nails digging into her scalp.

The half-elf stammered a few half-assed words. She had held onto the pattern of the dream and had expected the mirth and the laughter. Even if it came from Iorveth. Her mind did not know how to cope with this change.

Before she could think of something, anything, to do or say – not that it would have mattered, though – the elf pulled back. Ever so slowly, he disentangled himself from her until she stood there and simply stared at him with her hands pressed to her stomach. Dazed. Shattered.

Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes whereas a malicious glint filled his. Even in a dream, she felt her heart break at this rejection.

Once he had fully retracted himself, Iorveth squeezed his hands into fists and swung one of them at her as a roar left his lips. His knuckles smashed against her cheek and sent her spiralling, though the pain that bloomed along her face was all in her head.

She heard not the expected crunching of snow beneath her as she fell to the ground, but a loud crack when her back hit a wooden plank instead.

Two sets of hands held down her arms and she whipped her head back and forth only to scream, though no noise came out of her gaping mouth. To her left stood Loredo, who leered down at her with that grin of his. On the other side was the elf who had caught and used her between the woods of Vengerberg so many years ago. He licked his lips as he bent down closer to her until she felt his breath fan out across her skin.

A hand on each cheek forced her to look away from him and at the person above her. A shade of green that resembled a forest in the spring greeted her as Iorveth leant over her. This time one eye was covered by the red scarf. He smiled again, but all the warmth from before had been drained from it. All that remained was a cold, malicious smirk. It was the expression she imagined he wore when dealing with a bloede dh'oine.

"Don't worry, Gwenfrewi," he whispered, "this will only hurt a little."

She had no time to react, for a laugh came from in front of her. She turned to look, her body so stiff she felt like she might snap, but she bit back a gasp when she noticed her swollen belly that told her she had been carrying this child for close to a year already, if her previous pregnancy was anything to go by.

Footsteps approached from the side, and the familiar face of Elric appeared above her bump. In his raised hand he held a knife. Without offering an explanation, he plunged the blade into her stomach.

Sucking in a lungful of air as though she had just resurfaced after a long swim, Gwen opened her eyes and was greeted once more by the bright blue sky. After pressing a hand to her stomach, she assessed that she was once more at the beginning of this journey. A glance around her told her that nobody stood next to her. The table beneath her was just a pile of hay.

With a grunt, she pushed herself up and dragged a hand down her face. No matter what she had dreamt before, it had never been so… vivid. Her limbs still felt heavy, as if they could not quite believe she was still alive. Without thinking, she wrapped her thumb and pointer finger around her wrist and rubbed them back and forth. She rubbed until her skin ached and repeated the motions with her other wrist.

Behind her, Ivor and the old man still talked in low voices. She heard the word 'crops' at least twice and let her mind wander. Afraid to fall asleep again, she remained upright and watched the trees go by. Even so, she caught bits and pieces of the conversation being held behind her.

The farmer – Ben his name appeared to be – ended up being surprisingly knowledgeable about everything currently going on. His voice was calm as he relayed everything, and so Gwen believed him to not be as delusional as others had seemed. Apparently, many farmers in northern Aedirn had started working together, gathering crops and helping each other prepare their lands for what they thought could only be the upcoming war. They still knew what to expect from the last invasion and hoped to do everything better this time around.

Of course, humans being humans, many efforts were thwarted by their own people. Some stole from each other when they thought no one was looking, others sent their neighbours glares of suspicion. They never could agree on how they were to go about doing everything in a way that satisfied everyone. In the end, so many attempts were disrupted even before they could actually began.

Then there were the non-humans, who received the brunt of the accusations and were in turn beaten, murdered or, if they were lucky enough, exiled. The local Squirrels, on the other hand, used the discord running through the settlements to their advantage by killing and stealing wherever they could. To make matters worse, bandits were appearing like mushrooms during autumn to plunder and murder alongside all other culprits. At this point, nobody knew who was killing or stealing from whom. If something didn't happen, sooner or later they'd run themselves into the ground even before the Black Ones set foot upon their lands.

"How come you travel so far away from home then, with how dangerous the roads are these days?" Ivor asked.

Ben chuckled in response. "Somebody 'as to. And while the young'uns use their energy to bicker with each other, an old fella' such as myself gladly takes the risk 'imself."

Though Gwen had managed to stay clear of most of the war last time around, the destruction it had left behind was something not even she could have escaped. Roaming the forests, she had often come across fields where blood covered the grass, corpses from various sides of the battles scattered all over. Sometimes she even found Squirrels in the midst of the deceased. On a regular basis, she literally stumbled upon the remains of horses. Not wanting to become ghoul fodder, she had never hung around such scenes for too long. At a certain point, she had even learned to avoid places like it completely. She was proud of the fact that she had never seen a dead-eating monster in her entire life.

Though there was that one time…

"Oi! You there! Stop the cart and get off this instance!" a voice called from out of nowhere.

"By Melitele's teats…" the old man muttered before pulling on the reigns of his horse.

Gwen turned back just in time to meet Ivor's gaze. Don't say or do anything stupid, his look told her. Well, no promises there. After getting all but whipped in her face by some grumpy human today, she could not guarantee that she wouldn't bite back this once.

"What's this?" a man whose face was mostly concealed by a black bushy beard asked as he stepped up to the halted wagon. "A man and two Squirrels on the road together?!"

Another man appeared by his side, though this one looked more like a boy than anything else. He laughed far too loud and said, "Sounds like the start of a bad joke, don't it?"

"'A man and two Squirrels enter a bar'?" a third, the oldest of the group, asked, approaching them from a different angle.

"And none 'o 'ehm ever come back out!" the final bandit finished.

They could only have been bandits. Their armour was misshapen and didn't quite fit their bodies. Stolen or scavenged off of corpses they found. Filth covered them from head to toe; caked in their hair, between their fingers, in the creases of their clothes. Smelled like it, too. All carried swords that looked like they might break if one applied too much strength on them. One of the men wore a battered shield as well, though the heraldry that once adorned it was now unrecognisable.

Once upon a time, Gwen would have been able to take them all on by herself. Now, however, she wasn't so sure… Even so, her fingers found the dagger she had hidden beneath the bed of hay and gripped it tightly. Just in case.

"What can I help you with?" Ben asked, his voice almost sounding pleasant, though there seemed to be a dark undertone hidden underneath it. The half-elf felt bad that he would suffer doubly so, simply because he had been kind enough to offer help to a pair of non-humans.

"For starters, ye can give us all your precious treasures. Weapons, jewellery, you know the drill," the beard said while he rounded the wagon to the back, where Gwen sat.

Although the cart wasn't closed off, its sides were high enough to hide most of her from view while sitting like this. If she could strike him while they were unprepared, get them a head start… She still felt Ivor's gaze on her back, though, and so she dared not move.

Ben shook his head, his straw hat rustling as he did so. "Apologies, I have none of that. Just a bunch of hay, if you're interested in that…"

"Can't do much with some stupid hay," the human carrying the shield snapped. "D'we look like we got the time to trade shit?"

Before the farmer could mutter an apology, the youngster spoke up, "You do realise you're travelling with Squirrels, don't you? Crafty bastards always have something pointy hidden somewhere."

As the entire group sniggered, the bearded man unhatched the back of the wagon and swung it open. His brows rose at what he saw before his lips spread into a grin. "Didn't know you was travelling with such pleasant company. Tell you what, sir. You give us this pretty little thing and we'll let you and your other knife ear on your way, unharmed. How's that sound?"

The blood in Gwen's body froze as the world around her stilled as it so often did. Blood rushed through her ears and the only movement that she made came from the beating of her heart. No, not again, not again, not again…!

"You… you cannot just do that. She is with child!" Ben tried to reason with them as she lay there, all but turned to stone.

"Oh, the lass is pregnant, is she?" The oldest of the group came to stand beside the bearded man. When he set eyes upon her, his shoulders slumped. "Could've fooled me."

Not again not again not again!

"Don't matter either way," the shield muttered. "Either you got yourself a wench for the night, or you might've gotten yourself a pregnant wench for the night. Win-win situation if there ever was any, eh?"

"I always heard women be tightest when carrying a child… 's that true?" the boy asked.

"Suppose you'll find out tonight, then!" the shield yelled at him from his side of the wagon.

The beard clapped his hands once. "All right, that's settled then! Now, lass, if you don't mind…"

Notagainnotagainnotagainnotagainnotagain

When the half-elf didn't move, the man beside him placed a hand on the pommel of his sword. "I'd do as he says, knife ear. Wouldn't want your friends to pay the price for your disobedience, now would you?"

And just like that, all sense and colour came rushing back to her and she inhaled deeply. She managed a nod and slid forward, careful to keep her hands behind her as she did so.

"Attagirl," the beard said, like she was but a cow being led to the slaughterhouse.

Soon enough, her legs dangled over the edge of the cart. The older man stepped aside to let her out, but the man with the beard stayed put, that grin still on his lips. He smelled of dirt, sweat and leather and his teeth were so brown she could almost taste the alcohol he probably consumed on a daily basis. Nodding his head once, he offered her a hand, suddenly pretending to be anything but a disgusting rapist.

She reached up for it, but instead of accepting it she moved higher, towards his collar. With one swift motion, she brought up the hand with the dagger and plunged it deep into his unprotected neck.

"Never again," she hissed in his face.

"Wha—How—Who—" the man who had watched her murder his leader stammered as he grappled for his sword.

"What's happening?!" someone yelled, but she was not sure who.

Before he could unsheathe his blade, she had pushed herself off the cart and kicked him in the knee. It hit the ground with a thud, after which she brought hers up into his face. A loud crack filled the air and blood exploded all over her breeches. His eyes rolled back into his head, but she did not wait to see him fall back.

"Gwen!" Ivor's panicked voice came from the front of the wagon, and within the blink of an eye Gwen had launched herself back onto the wagon. The edges of the hay pricked into her legs through her clothes as she dropped her knife and dug through the pile.

The moment she grasped the bow and quiver, she straightened herself and notched an arrow with such speed and grace that made her feel at least twenty years younger. The arrow soared through the air and pierced the youngster on top of Ivor in the shoulder. Beside him sat Ben, cowering away from the two of them. He yelled and yanked it out before trying to press his blade against Ivor's neck again. By then, however, Gwen had thrown her dagger at the elf, who had caught it and now used it to push back.

Aiming another arrow at the only other remaining human, she saw that he had taken a less aggressive route. Instead he kept his distance from the scene and held his shield up. Her bow wasn't going to be of much use here.

The hay rustled as she made her way through it and jumped over the side of the wagon. When she straightened herself again, everything began to spin around her. Her bow and quiver clattered to the ground beside her as she threw an arm out to catch herself against the side of the cart before bending forward and throwing up. Of all the places…!

Once her stomach had settled, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. She looked up only to be greeted by the tip of a sword aimed at her face. Despite the nerves and the remaining nausea causing her to tremble, she mustered a smirk and straightened her back.

"Quite the gentleman, aren't you?" she asked him.

The only response she received was the tightening of his grip on his blade. Flashes of previous battles, one of which felt like it had taken place a lifetime ago, flitted through her mind, and her body began to move on its own.

Clapping her hands together with the blade between her palms, she saw Nessa's shock on the man's face and remembered James's blood as hers seeped down her arm. When the sharp edge dug into her skin, she felt the tension that had been filling her rush out like a sigh. It was replaced by a sense of giddiness that she used to push the sword aside effortlessly. With his shield in the way, however, there was little else she could do but watch the fear in the man's eyes grow.

With a thunk, something found its way to the side of his head and he toppled over, leaving a puff of dust in his wake. The sword clattered to the ground noisily, the blood that stained it offering a stark contrast to the road it lay on. Blinking slowly, it took the half-elf a few moments to register that it was a dagger that stuck out of the human's hair. Her dagger.

She looked up just in time to see Ivor storm towards her.

"Are you all right?!" he exclaimed, his voice higher than usual as he took in the sight of the sword and the puddle of vomit she had already forgotten about. His hands roamed her body and, still in a daze, she let him. "Oh Gwen, you shouldn't have done that. We could've—"

"No," Gwen spat, her head snapping up to face him, her gaze clear once more. "Never again."

He frowned and parted his lips to respond. Instead, he gasped when he came upon her palms and held them up for all to see. The red angry lines stung in the sunlight. "Gwen? What happened?!"

Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she glanced away and lifted her shoulders in a casual shrug. When his grip on her tightened, she looked back and finally found out what his beautiful grey eyes looked like when they betrayed his utter fury. Usually, his eyes looked like the sky on a rainy day that begged one to stay inside, wrapped up in a cosy blanket. Now, however, they turned dark, like a storm was threatening to break out any moment now.

"You have a problem, Gwen," he bit out through ground teeth. "You really need to stop this."

Gwen was so flabbergasted that all she could muster was a weak, "W-what?"

"This." The elf lowered his grasp to her elbows and lifted her arms so she was forced to take them in. Dark rings circled her wrists where she had rubbed them a while back. "Everything." He suddenly dropped her as if she had burned him and crossed his arms over his chest before taking a step back from her. "You've been doing it on and off for days now. And now this." He gestured at her hands. "I get it, okay? Truly, I do, but this— this is not the way to deal with it."

"You what?" Gwen whispered sharply, squinting at him. "You get this?" Making a sweeping movement with an arm, she had to bite on her tongue to stop herself from screaming.

"Don't you try this with me again. You know what I'm talking about. You've been betrayed, I get it, but we're in this together. And you promised you'd stop this… this self-harming."

Gwen's breath caught in her throat and she recoiled mentally. Self-harm. Was that really what it was? All these years, and nobody had ever put a name on this self-destructive behaviour of hers. Not her mother when she had found her at the start of her first pregnancy, not Iorveth when he had stumbled upon her in the forest, not Ivor that first time he had caught her. Not even she herself, after hearing tales of young women scarring themselves in order to live with the pain that they carried around with them.

"You're not doing this to yourself anymore, and you're not alone anymore. We'll get through this, all right?" Anger still laced his voice, though he tried his best to relax. Even so, there was a tightness in his body that she had never seen in him before. Somehow, in that moment she recognised it as how Elric looked whenever he held himself back from hurting her. Whether it was for her sake or his, she did not know.

She could only nod, her mind already far away. By the time she became aware of her surroundings again, she realised that she was sitting in the back of the wagon as it hobbled along the road once more. Sinking her teeth into her lower lip, she pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face there. Her shoulder shook as she wept in silence.