[A/N]: chapter title once again by Dance Gavin Dance.
The next few days, she swam in and out of consciousness, picking up bits and pieces of conversation of which she was never truly sure whether she had dreamt it or not. When she recognised her son, kneeling beside her and stroking her hair away from her face, she thought she was finally going crazy. He disappeared again before she could reach out to him, leaving her with a single green eye that peered down at her. It held a sorrow so deep she felt a tear slip down her temple as she lifted a hand to the cheek floating above her. Before her palm could meet it, however, gravity dragged her arm back down.
Strange talk of Nilfgaard accompanied the eye.
"How are you faring?" one voice, warm and soft, spoke. "I heard the reports. About Nilfgaard."
"There is no time for a fear of past happenings," another voice replied. This one sounded deep and raspy. "And I doubt Isengrimm's summons and Nilfgaard's appearance are a coincidence. He must be planning something."
"Even so, you must take care not to push yourself. You've seen what war can do to some, and you've been through more than most. Least of all due to Nilfgaard."
"As I said, it is all in the past. No sense in dwelling on it."
"Promise me you will take care of yourself."
At first, silence. Then, a murmur, "You know I cannot do that."
At some point afterwards, she recognised Ivor talking to others she did not know. Other times he sat there by himself. Saskia appeared in her room at least once, or so she thought - that could also have been part of a dream in which the woman turned into a dragon, tore the half-elf's mother to pieces and burned her street to the ground. Somewhere in between her fitful rests, she awoke with a burning throat only for her to roll over and throw up. Her father shushed her and stroked her hair as her brother held a bucket in front of her. Out of the corner of her eyes, she noted that her son stood somewhere in the background, but when she looked up, desperate words hanging from her lips, he had disappeared.
"Father..." she instead moaned as her head fell back.
The walls surrounding Vengerberg were visible from their spot in the shade of the only tree that stood in the field. They lay on top of a blanket they had placed on the ground, plucking all kinds of food from the basket they had prepared for this day. She ignored the guards that surrounded them, because even as young as she was, she knew it was either this or nothing. She would take the guards over not seeing her father any day.
Her mother sat beside him, the smile on her face a fraction larger than it usually was. She had even braided her dark hair and he had placed a daisy in one of the creases. For a few days, they could pretend that they were a normal family, just like any other family in Vengerberg...
A bow thwanged and an arrow flew through the air, finding its target with practised ease. Her father fell backwards, the shaft sticking out from between his eyes, and her mother followed soon after. She burst into tears, crying and screaming at the top of her lungs as the puddle of blood pooling around her parents grew until their blanket was soaked. Only when the crimson liquid touched her knees did she realise that the wails weren't hers, but those of the child she held in her arms. She looked down all but expecting to see the blond hair of Elric. When instead she was greeted by a head of black hair, the child's green eyes filled with tears staring up at her, she shot up and all but barreled into Iorveth, who had been sitting at the foot of her bed. He said nothing when she crawled away from him, back under the covers, her face burning with more than just fever.
Gwen did not know how much time passed before she could tell dream from reality. Once she could, she mustered the courage to ask what had been on her mind for a while now. "What... what happened after I... left?"
"You can just barely speak again and you're already asking these questions?" Maeve asked. "Well, fine, if you're so determined to hear about it. It was basically Rag nar Roogh. That's what the Skelligers call the end of the world, right? I heard some local talk about it and the concept seemed pretty-"
"The villagers almost lynched Stennis, for one." Ivor held up a hand to count his fingers. "They believed he had poisoned Saskia. Gwynnbleidd cleared the curse that apparently had covered the area between Henselt's camp and Vergen."
"Henselt arrived here not too soon after with some plan to take over the Pontar Valley," Maeve added.
"And failed to do so."
"Horribly. Iorveth went to get more archers for the fight, so he never stood a chance." Maeve, who sat on the bed beside the half-elf's feet with her legs crossed, rocked herself back and forth while nibbling on the nail of her thumb and eyeing the ceiling. "Come to think of it, Ivor, where did you go? Seemed like you disappeared without a word. The thought of battle making your legs quiver?" She tried to prod the other elf with her elbow, almost toppling over in the process.
"If you hadn't been tipsy, you might have remembered my saving you not once but twice. I am sure your head would have made a pretty sight above a hearth somewhere in Kaedweni."
With burning ears, Maeve puffed her chest up and crossed her arms. "It isn't my fault ploughing King Henselt the so manieth decided to attack while I was enjoying my day off."
Gwen watched the exchange, huddled in the corner opposite to Maeve, a pillow pressed flush against her chest. Though the fever seemed to have gone down, her head still felt like a herd of nekkers were running around in it. Whenever she tried to talk, her temples would feel like they might burst without warning. So she simply sat there, staring at nothing while the voices of her companions offered a pleasant background buzz to distract her from the throbbing behind her skull.
"Gwen," Ivor called, turning to face the half-elf. The only response he received was a blink, but still he continued. "You really should try to eat something. You can't remain stubborn for much longer."
Gwen looked at the plate of food he had been holding since he first entered the room with Maeve that day. He had offered it to her twice already, but she had merely shaken her head both times. After all, if there was a chance she might throw it all up again, why bother eating to begin with?
She knew the logical fallacy behind that train of thought. Had gone through it last time, as well. Back then, however, her mother had all but forced her to eat at least some bread, claiming it to be too healthy to leave out of her diet. Ivor, on the other hand, offered her only food of which they knew she could have.
Tears pricked her eyes and Gwen felt her already stuffy nose grow even runnier She sniffed and rubbed at her eyes with rough strokes. Fuck her for crying all the time. Fuck her for being hungry. Fuck her for being pregnant and sick. Fuck Iorveth for fucking her! Fuck her for fucking Iorveth... Fuck Ivor for... for...
And just like, she burst into tears yet again, pressing her face into the pillow in her hold and sobbing into it. Ivor had been nothing but kind to her, even though he was mad at her! Mad at her for being careless with her own body! And he had set that aside to take care of her - again. Like he didn't have better things to do! Just because she was mad at Iorveth...
When the sound of the door falling back in its lock reached her ears, she shot up, positive that everyone had finally left the useless piece of shit that she was.
Instead, she was greeted by the sight of Ivor, by himself, still holding the plate and looking very much lost doing so.
"Maeve thought you'd like some... privacy..." he offered with a half-shrug.
Without replying, Gwen accepted the food and, even as she continued to sniffle, began to scoop spoonfuls of porridge into her mouth.
Ivor tilted his head to the side and watched her with a raised brow. "...Was it this bad the first time around?"
The half-elf managed to snort even while crying and eating. "Drove my mother nuts. 'Must be your human blood! This is ridiculous!'" she said, imitating the higher pitch of her mother's voice.
A grin found its way onto Ivor's face and his shoulders relaxed. She had to remember that this was new to everyone but her. She couldn't expect everyone to carry her through this just because her emotions weren't the most stable. Hell, they weren't stable mostly because she was with child. This was going to be difficult on everyone involved.
Even Iorveth.
"And how about..." His voice trailed off though he held her gaze.
"Elric?" When her companion nodded, she continued, "Well, as a human, he knew what he was getting himself into. For me, it was a... pretty horrifying experience in which my body changed without me knowing what to expect. Half-elves are funny like that, since you can never really know what'll happen." She shifted and lowered the now half-empty plate. "But now, I... I don't know. It feels worse now. Back then, at least Elric was there to cheer me on, but now... Now I know it was fake and everything is the same as last time... everything..." The wooden spoon in her hold began to clatter against the side of the bowl.
Ivor pried them from her and placed them on the nightstand. "Not everything is the same..." he began.
Oh, Ivor. He never gave up, did he? He was always there with a kind word. Even back when she hadn't wanted anything to do with him, or any of the elves for that matter. It was strange how things had changed.
"Ivor," she said as she reached out for his hands and held them tight before she looked him in the eye. "I... I'm sorry for what I did... to myself. I don't know how else... Iorveth tried to... help, but well..."
The elf pulled back one hand to press a finger to her lips, shushing her as he did so. "It's all right, Gwen. We'll get you there one day. For now, I believe you have more urgent matters to attend to."
He smiled at her and this time when she sighed, she seemed to melt on the spot, relief causing her whole body to sag against the wall behind her. Her friend watched her, a strange light shining in his eyes.
"So, I hear 'collecting' names for the child is a thing that usually takes place. Do you have any ideas?" he asked with a grin.
Gwen couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Ivor! Where did you even hear that?"
"It's not like I have never been around humans before." Looking rather hurt, he held a hand to his chest. "I was thinking about Delilah. Elvish connotations, but with a human ring to it. What say you?"
Her heart felt like it had stopped beating and her breath caught in her throat. The look on her face must have been enough to make Ivor's eyes widen. Thinking about names for this child of hers... That was one part she had never gotten around to last time. Sure, she had wondered about them, but whenever she brought it up with Elric, he had waved the topic away with an excuse.
With a shake of her head and a watery smile, Gwen dismissed her friend's panic. "And what if it's a boy?"
"What do you mean? Delilah is a great name for a boy..." Ivor muttered, more to himself than to her.
"Then... then how ab-"
The door smacked against the wall and Gwen jerked up, head snapping towards the sound. In the doorway stood Iorveth, hand balled into a fist as it rested against the door. "We must talk."
Ivor got up and moved in front of the half-elf, blocking her view of the commander. He opened his mouth, but Iorveth spat, "Alone." He glanced over his shoulder at the half-elf, who nodded in return. She would have to face the unit leader again sooner or later, and she'd rather just get it over with.
Her comrade left the room, all the while checking whether she had changed her mind, but she nodded at him to go. Some things she had to do by herself after all.
"What did you want to talk about?" she asked the very moment the door fell back in place without tearing her gaze away from the wooden surface.
"What did you want to talk about?" the inh'eid asked without looking at him.
Iorveth held back a sigh as he realised this was going to be a long conversation. A long couple of months, even. And that while they should be celebrating at a time like this. The first child to be born in their camp for so long... But, he reminded himself, Gwenfrewi's troubled past hindered just that. Not to forget, perhaps… perhaps also the fact that he had miscalculated when it came to her.
Since Gwenfrewi clearly wished him gone, he decided to try and make this conversation as short as possible. "We must make plans."
That was enough to get her to turn her head towards him, dark brown eyes searching his with what could only be described as disbelief.
"Oh, so now you're going to ask my opinion, are you?" she snapped, fire on her tongue as she spoke. The commander's brows flinched the slightest as he opened his mouth, but Gwenfrewi continued, "Wait, don't tell me- It's for the sake of the child, for its well-being. Because now- It's now that a child has entered the picture, now you care about anybody's wellbeing."
Iorveth clenched his hands into fists when cold feelings of guilt and regret flooded him, though they were soon replaced by heated anger. She had no right, he had only done what was best for his unit, he had to take care of his people, it wasn't his choice, he had to do what he had to do and he had to be who he had to be-
"Did you not care for me at all before all of this?" she asked. Clearly some dam in her had been demolished, for she continued spewing insults at him. "Is this child all you truly wanted from me? Like I am naught more for a walking, talking womb to you? Perhaps that is what you planned from the very beginning. Fuck me until I'm pregnant and use me to get Stennis off your back. A multipurpose slave, how wonderful!"
He ground his teeth together, hoping to let her blow off some steam until she cooled down enough for this conversation. He had to ignore her words, because with her as impulsive as she was and both of them quite the hotheads, it would do nobody any good if he slipped up.
"But no, I won't give it to you. I've lost one child before and I won't lose another one if I can help it, so you won't be getting this one from me!" She curled her arms around her stomach as if to protect the unborn child from all the evils of the world, though she must have known better than anybody that that simply wasn't the way it worked. "But it's not like you'd know anything about something that isn't murder."
Squeezing his forearms, he thought of all the loved ones he had lost in his battle against the dh'oine. He could still see Lee lying on the gravel road that led out of the village he had been born in, as if it had only been yesterday that horses had trampled over his face to the point that Iorveth had only been able to recognise him by the heart-shaped birthmark on the boy's leg. His arms had been twisted in ways they were not meant to bend and his torso had sported a gaping hole that laid his internal organs bare to the world. That day was the only time he had heard his mother call out his name the way she had, shrill and high-pitched as she came rushing towards him to jerk him away from his friend's corpse. Her tears had stained his hair while she wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him close to her, though the gesture did nothing to stop him from staring at the body.
His first love, his puppy love as his mother had called it, had been one of the last to go. The girl whose hands he had always held when they ran to the stream that ran past the village now lay buried beneath one of the willow trees on top of the hill that had always overlooked the small town, without those hands of hers or even her limbs. The only reason her head was still attached to her neck was because Iorveth had jabbed a knife into the human's back who had been hovering over the defenseless elf. The damage had been done though, her virginity as well as her life stolen from her in one fell swoop. Her parents had already left their plane of existence, so he had taken it upon himself to bury her that night once she had bled to death, tears, blood and mud streaking his cheeks while he dug a hole beneath the tree where they had shared their first kiss.
On some nights, dozing beside a campfire, he still felt the heat of the houses as he watched them burn to the ground. He would hear voices screaming all around him, mostly humans yelling for help. Even after all these years, he could muster no remorse for the beings who had stood by as others of their kind tortured and killed others simply because of their appearance. Children, women and men alike wailing as they tried to flee, to no avail. He had watched the chaos from the top of the hill, the dh'oine running around like ants from an anthill, except even the ants would have been more organised than them.
It had been in that moment that Iorveth had truly understood the insignificance, the insuperiority of the human race that thought so highly of themselves. When he turned to leave, it was the first step of many he took down this path to freedom. He had never once looked back since then.
"Did you ever truly care for me?" the inh'eid's voice pierced his thoughts, tiny in the midst of his mind. "Or was all of that just pretend, too?"
At hearing her words, his eye snapped up to hers, searching for the truth behind them. The fact that she even questioned his feelings for her somehow made him want to reach out and squeeze her hand, but he was smart enough not to. It hadn't been easy to let himself go with her to begin with. He had debated with himself as well as Ivor about his interest in the hostile inh'eid, even with Cirian.
Of course Cirian had advised him against it. Why he had ignored his second in command was a mystery to himself. All his comrade had said was sensible: you have a plan for her, if you let these feelings grow they will only hinder you later on. Just look at all her dh'oine blood and you'll forget about her soon enough.
Unfortunately for him, Ivor, who had never known about the plan to begin with, had had one of those small smiles of his painted across his face when he told his commander that it was his choice to make. The damned elf had always been pushing at the boundaries between himself and his role as the commander. As if the two of them had made some sort of pact, Gwenfrewi had kept up that attempt to tear down his barriers until he had simply given in. He had been tired and lonely and he had wanted someone to keep him company and she had been right there.
In a way, out of everyone in the camp, she was the one who was most like him, despite the dh'oine blood in her. Surrounded by those who resembled her yet still isolated from the others exactly because of what she was. Though he was a Seidhe like the rest of them, as their commander he would never truly be one of them. He had given up that option when Isengrimm left them on their own with no one else to lead.
It was never that simple, though, and the woman with whom he had wanted to keep his bed warm at night came with a string of nightmares of her own. Where he wished for a closeness of flesh, she required an emotional depth that he had neither the time nor energy to provide. Even so, he constantly circled back to her. It was ironic, but that dh'oine blood of hers burned bright in the cold dark night that was Iorveth's downfall, and like a moth to the flame, he could not stay away from her.
Even so, he had never thought that he would stay with the inh'eid for long. People came and went, after all, and there was nobody who understood that better than Iorveth. Besides, he had his schemes and his plans, his fight for their freedom that came first, and he had always known what the fate of Gwenfrewi would be.
Except when the time came to execute said plan, he had become… weak. Thoughts of dread had filled his head, thoughts revolving around the various ways the woman's corpse could be lying about in this world, by herself and assaulted by flies and maggots. When Ivor ran off, intent on following the inh'eid, the commander had no longer been able to keep a lid on his feelings and he had sent scouts to follow him. They had reported back to him when Gwenfrewi had been found with some dh'oine, worse for wear but safe and sound. The exhileration that the unit leader had felt at the news had scared him and, in an attempt to reign in his emotions, he had ordered the scouts not to intervene.
He did not know if he would have done the same if it had been Ivor or Isengrimm or any of the others he had found himself sharing a bed with, and that frightened him. Until now, he had always been in control of himself and his actions. To suddenly lose all this power… It unnerved him to the point of wakefulness at night. And even in those moments, the lack of her presence was a constant buzz in the background, soft enough to be forgotten when other noise drowned it out but impossible to ignore when there was nothing else to focus on.
And now here she sat, claiming this malstrom inside of him was but a fiction, a play he put up for her sake. That the sleepless nights he endured, the nights in which he held his cock in his hand while dreaming it was hers squeezing it, the anger and frustration and adoration and heat and worry, mostly just worry, were all fake.
"Will you just shut up?" the commander finally snapped. The anger he felt was mostly directed at himself; acting on his emotions within the first few moments of this conversation with her. "It's not difficult to make up all those fantasies of yours, is it, when you're not willing to listen to others?"
That, at the very least, seemed to get her to swallow her next words for the time being. Instead, she bit her lip, which sported indentations from her teeth almost constantly these days, and levelled him with a glare. He ignored it and, after sucking in some air through gritted teeth, said, "You want me gone as soon as possible, I know, so I propose we get this conversation over with. That way, I can get out of your hair and you can go back to grovelling in bed."
To nobody's surprise, that wasn't what he should have said, but at this point he was running out of patience. He had a thousand other things to take care of, yet even so he had found the time to come by the inh'eid multiple times since the rainstorm that had washed away all remaining signs of the battle with Kaedweni forces. He did not have the energy to listen to the voice that had started nagging at him the very moment Gwenfrewi had tackled him to the ground. That voice had only one name - regret - and he knew exactly where it would lead him if he let his guard down.
He wasn't completely merciless, however, so he sat down on the chair previously occupied by Ivor, his knees spread apart, forearms resting over them, and lowered his head slightly. "I understand you want nothing to do with me…" he began, reminding himself that by stating the facts he did not discredit himself or his actions, "but I wish for you to stay close by."
Silence was the only response he received. When he looked up, he found Gwenfrewi staring at him, her expression for once undecipherable. Once their eyes locked, she said, "From now on."
"Yes, from now on," he admitted. His stomach felt like it had sank when he realised where she was headed with her statement.
"Unlike before," she stated, her voice hard and chipped. "Where you wanted me gone. And now you want me close. How very peculiar."
"I did not want you gone. As I've said time and again, I knew you would be safe. Ivor would not have let any harm befall you," Iorveth said. Swallowing thickly, he held her gaze, her dark orbs taking him with a dangerously calm look, one that completely contradicted the fury that had been in her movements but moments ago. The commander wondered if those were the infamous hormones he had heard much about in the past.
"But you did not send Ivor," Gwenfrewi pointed out as she tilted her head to the side. Her hair had grown long in her absence and it fell over her shoulder, obscuring part of her face.
Iorveth pursed his lips. Should he tell her of the archers he had sent after her? The fact that he had told them quite explicitly not to intervene would anger her further. But it would also signal regret and doubt. Subordinates must never see that side of their leader.
Parting her lips, the coolness in her eyes melted, but before she said anything, she shut her mouth again. The hardness returned and instead she said, "I do not want to be with someone who only loves me for a child. If you only see me as someone to birth your children, then you can drop me off at the nearest village and I will take care of the situation myself."
"You would-" The commander all but choked on the words that tried to pass his lips next. "You cannot-" All the children that were never born due to the brutality of the world, children never conceived, children never grown older than babes… Only for this child to be murdered at the hands of its own unwanting mother?
"I cannot what?" the inh'eid asked and Iorveth could not suppress the tremor that trickled down his spine and made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. "Decide the faith of someone under my protection?"
Again, there was nothing that could be said without worsening the situation. Every word she uttered came back to what he had done, as though she had challenged herself to get him to admit his mistake. Did she truly think that would make her feel better? That him bearing his thoughts to her would undo the consequences of his actions? No, that would be the ultimate sign of weakness, and so he simply remained silent.
"So you agree?" she asked, one brow raised. Daring him to say something. "Because I cannot raise this child on my own." There was a tightness to her voice now, a sign of the sadness that had hidden itself beneath the fury and was worming its way up her throat now.
"You will do no such thing," Iorveth snapped. "You do not have to do it on your own."
"But we will always come second."
We. The child and her. A future he had never dared dream of. And he loved her, damn it all.
He had made so many decisions. Had sacrificed so many things as the commander. Had ruined so many lives in the name of his people, planned or no. Then why was it that this decision was so difficult?
Because he wanted it. Because he wished so badly that their circumstances were difficult that breathing became difficult. Because she made him want to lay down his armour and his weapons so that he could simply sit by her side and do nothing, think about nothing.
The commander released a long breath and sagged back into his seat while running a hand down his face. He did not look at her when he murmured, "I'm sorry."
He had expected another wave of rage, perhaps even a flurry of insults hurled at him. Maybe she would simply ignore him. When he sought her gaze, however, his throat tightened at the sight of the tears in her eyes. She rubbed them away before he could say anything, inhaled deeply and straightened her back.
As if all the fight had evaporated from her, she nodded once. "All right. I… I'll stay. But I still don't want to have anything to do with you."
That was something he couldn't promise, and she knew it. It was then, once she had let go of her hatred for him, that the commander could see the consequences of his actions. Dark circles underlined her eyes, cheeks slightly gaunt and hair that had lost its shine. She looked thin, most certainly too thin to be carrying a child. Cuts and bruises in various stages of healing bloomed across her skin. He would have to make sure that Ivor took proper care of her. That, however, wasn't the most important of his concerns just yet.
"Gwenfrewi-"
"Please don't call me that."
Biting his tongue, he continued, "We will not be staying here for much longer. Scouts to the south have already encountered Nilfgaardian troops, meaning it cannot take long for them to arrive here. We will have to leave before they do."
"What?" The inh'eid looked like she had just been struck by a sword. "After all you did for the Pontar Valley, you will just… leave? Because of Nilfgaard?"
"It is for the best. We cannot withstand their troops in our current state." Images of his brethren hanging by ropes came to mind, unbidden. "Vergen has lost far too many in its fight against Kaedweni for that."
"But... what happened to helping Saskia? Your dream? A place where humans and non-humans could live together? You'd give all that up, just because of Nilfgaard?" Gwenfrewi asked, spreading her arms to gesture around her as she did so. "What about… my sacrifice?"
Fuck. Why couldn't anything ever be simple, for fuck's sake. He couldn't have known that Nilfgaard planned on infiltrating the Northern Realms with the Summit at Loc Muinne.
No, that wasn't right. He could have know. He did know.
"I've heard other units reporting sightings of Black Ones just across the Yaruga," Edith, who had been stationed in Aedirn for a while before returning, had reported even before they had left for the Pontar Valley.
Iorveth hadn't wanted to believe it, the denial clear now that he looked back. He had fought the urge to rub his empty eye socket when it began to throb and had waved the report away. "We have no time for rumours," he had said and that had been that.
His inability to think clearly had once again hindered his capability as commander, had endangered people who meant so much to him for naught. Even so, his shame was no match for the memories of being captured in a Nilfgaardian camp, waiting- no, praying for his death, which by then had become the best ending he could have hoped for. If it hadn't been for Isengrimm…
"There has been a slight change of plans," Iorveth stated, his voice as steady as it could get. "Other Scoia'tael units have called us together, presumably to deal with the threat of Nilfgaard. On our own, we will never be able to defend Vergen. If we work together with other units to disrupt the attack, we will save the Pontar Valley that way."
Gwenfrewi narrowed her eyes at him but otherwise remained silent. Accepting the test, the commander held her gaze. If he hesitated for even a heartbeat, she would sense it. He just knew it. He filled his head with memories of them together, a time he wished he could return to. For the sake of that, he could not fail...
It seemed as though the inh'eid liked whatever she found in his eye, for before long she looked away, her lip once more caught between her teeth. The muscles in Iorveth's shoulders relaxed, tension flowing out of them now that Gwenfrewi had stopped scrutinising him.
"Whatever the case, this means we will depart in a few weeks, so you must recover and regain your strength before then. We'll move towards Novigrad and seek shelter in the forests of Velen, where other commanders shall gather in order to discuss our next plan of action."
Without a word, Gwenfrewi inclined her head, still refusing to meet his eye. Though the realisation made Iorveth's stomach churn slightly, he forced himself to let the matter go. She was tired and she needed time. They all did. Looking at her in that bed, it was easy to forget that she was with child.
Was she... lying? In an act of revenge? To have him hope for something, only to snatch it out of his hands later on?
No. She of all people would not do this. Furthermore, Ivor vouched for her.
He sighed and forced the thought out of his mind as he got up and took a step towards the door. "Then I will leave you be."
For now.