Iorveth awoke from another series of vivid and unsettling dreams with a start, though they had been more confusing than anything else this time. He could vaguely remembering something about dragons wielding swords, a red eyed albino woman throwing him off a cliff despite the fact that Iorveth had felt them to be good friends, and... had he been holding twin warrior babies at the end? The elf shook his head in an attempt to clear the aftermath of the dreams from his head and he groaned at the pain in his muscles and joints. At least they chased away the remnants of his fantasies for him.

Shani looked up from where she sat in front of a small campfire when she saw the elf had woken up and said, "Awake at last, I see. That took you long enough."

Without waiting for the man to regain his bearings, the redhead zoomed forth to check his temperature with a cool hand before she went back to the fire to see whether the tea in the kettle had started to boil yet, all the while rambling on and on and on.

"Do you even realize how difficult it was for me to get you here? You're pretty heavy for a slim thing such as yourself! And not to think of how worried I was even before I had found you, lying on the ground in the wilderness, high like some teenage rebel smoking cannabis for the first time. At first I thought you had left for good this time, but then I found your pack, and I knew you wouldn't leave with that pack- that pack with his sword, with Geralt's sword- and why do you have it anyway? That man would not lend weapons such as that to anybody, at least not without good reason, and it was broken- broken! The blasted thing could shear through plate armor and spectral shields, how could it possibly break? Speaking of broken, did you know that it was Geralt who broke my heart? He tore it right out and flung it to the ground and gave it a good kick or two to make sure it cracked and-"

Iorveth let out a sigh as she went on. By then, he had already stopped listening to her. It didn't take him long to notice her dilated pupils, and going by the slightly erratic movements of her limbs, he hadn't been the only one to become intoxicated by those cursed spores. From the words she spoke, and there were many of those, he realized that she had worried for him, and that she had many questions to which she wanted answers.

Before she could bring any harm upon herself or others, he reached out and grabbed her by the waist, forcing her to sit down next to him on the ground. He tried his best to ignore the squeak of surprise that left her, or the way her skin seemed soft and welcoming beneath his digits, and instead he looked her dead in the eye in an attempt to calm her down. It worked, and he could feel the stress leaving her body as she sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a few moments to regain her composure.

She had saved his life twice now, Iorveth realized as he watched her. Perhaps even thrice, since he had remained at the temple for her sake, which in turn had ensured that he got to hear all those tales that he desperately needed to hear, even though he hadn't realised it until now. That, in turn, had helped him move past his rather bloodthirsty past somewhat. At least the voices had become quieter since his arrival here.

"You wish to ask me questions. Ask, and I shall give answers," the elf said, his voice solemn as he looked straight into her eyes. She had earned more than the truth from him for all that she had done for him.

Shani stopped talking and could only stare back at him, her mouth remaining surprisingly quiet when it had become obvious she would burst if she didn't inquire about what she wished to know. Her eyes moved from his face to his hands, still holding onto her hips, and Iorveth couldn't help but think back to the first time they had been this close to each other, the first time he had given her a look into his soul. He wondered if she remembered it as well.

"Who is seanmháthair?" the redhead finally asked, pulling Iorveth out of his reverie.

Slightly taken aback by this question, Iorveth had to remind himself that he had promised to answer all her questions. And anyway, perhaps it would do him some good to speak of his grandmother, to remember what she had taught him and what he had promised her, and so he opened his mouth and began to speak...

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

His green eyes bore into his opponent as he stood as still like a tree on a windless day , barely even breathing in his moment of utter concentration. He tried to become one with the planet, with his surroundings, so he could strike with the speed of a slyzard's tail and the power of a troll... The wind stirred all of a sudden, playing with the ends of his dark hair, waving it into his eyes, but he didn't even blink at the interruption and tried to just ignore it.

Without warning, the elf shot forward, his arms stretched out in front of him as he all but dove towards his enemy. The ground rose to meet him, and he landed face-first in the mud, his empty hands becoming buried into the dirt. The rabbit he had wanted to catch had managed to evade his grasp, and now frolicked off, its tail wiggling as if taunting him for his failure. The umpteenth in a row already.

Iorveth glowered at the animal as it disappeared from his sight, cursing it in very colourful manners but not uttering a single world out loud for fear of who might hear him, but the sound of Granuaile laughing caught his attention. Her presence, right next to her all of a sudden, surprised him, but he tried his best not to show this.

"That rabbit ought tae better than to pick fights with those who are beneath its size," she remarked with a grin, and Iorveth moved to glare at her instead.

His gaze did nothing to deter the old woman, however, and she bent down to ruffle his hair. Grumbling under his breath, he tried to swat her hand away, flinging mud everywhere as he did so, which only made his grandmother laugh even more.

"Don't worry, Vethy boy. One day you'll catch that rabbit," she promised him, her smirk turning into a soft smile as she helped the boy off the ground.

By this age, he had already proven himself inept when it came to trapping. He lacked the patience to make them, and he lacked the ingenuity to be a trap himself, and his shortcomings annoyed him to no end. Why couldn't he be like the other elves, as graceful and strong and smart?

Instead, Granuaile had promised him that she would teach him in archery, to see if he had any luck with that. And as it would turn out, he did, better than anybody could have expected.

Yet again the ground, which had become a good old friend to Iorveth by now, rose to greet him, and once more he found himself with his face in the mud. This time, however, he immediately pushed himself back up to scowl at his sparring partner who had just launched him to the floor.

Isengrim moved his wooden blade through the air with nimble flourishes, a cocky smile on his face as he watched Iorveth. The elf barely registered the presence of Granuaile somewhere off to the side, juggling a couple of apples.

"Do ye know where ye went wrong?" she asked mildly, pinning his attention to her even as the apples danced in her hands.

Iorveth had to swallow his resentment for a moment before replying, "I failed to match Isengrim's acrobatics and power."

His grandmother shook her head with an exasperated sight and tossed both of them an apple.

Isengrim dodged it, spinning around and bringing his blade around to smash the fruit out of the air with the flat of his blade. Iorveth, on the other hand, simply ducked slightly and brought the tip of his sword up to skewer the apple on the tip.

"Time for a break wee lads. Go and enjoy yer apple," Granuaile said, her gaze on Isengrim before she made her way over to Iorveth and sat down next to him, dragging him along as she did so. Without waiting, she began, "Ye know, the goal isn't to match Isengrim. In anything. It never has been. You don't have his agility, nor his talent for dual-wielding. You're no acrobat. But your failure wasn't in that you couldn't match Isengrim, it was in that you tried to match him in the first place."

Iorveth freed the apple from his sword, its juices slipping down his fingers as well as his blade, and he frowned at the stickiness but didn't move to throw it away or to eat it. He understood her words, though that didn't make it any easier to bear. One could almost call Isengrim a prodigy, a blade master like few in existence. Even if he tried his very best, deep down he knew he'd never beat his friend, and though his grandmother had meant her words in a reassuring manner, Iorveth couldn't help but feel angry at the situation. Envious, even. Why couldn't he have been born with such talents as well?

"Yer talent lies in archery my boy," Granuaile continued, ignoring the sour expression on her grandson's face. "It lies in precision. Just look at what you did to your apple. I've seen you hit your targets from a hundred and fifty yards away, maybe more, as if it were nothing. You made it look easy. Isengrim may be good with a bow, but even he can't match you in that."

The elf's ears pricked up at that, and he moved his gaze from the apple to his grandmother, not allowing himself to feel reassured and happy just yet. "Truly?"

"Truly." Granuaile nodded her head. "So stop concentrating on beating your opponent, and instead rely on your own strengths. It's always a good thing to understand your opponent's prowess, of course, and to learn the basics so that you can adapt it to your own style, but only to counter that of your enemy."

His grin finally broke free, and Iorveth couldn't help but feel a surge of pride rush through him at his grandmother's praise. She had always known what to tell him to get him out of his rut.

From then on out, Granuaile began to guide him along a path to create his own style, based specifically on his own talent: precision. This she had done with the help of one of his friends, Liaolin.

It was with Liaolin and Isengrim with whom Iorveth left to join the war against the dh'oine. Just before leaving, he gave his grandmother one last hug, his arms wrapped around her waist in an attempt to maintain a certain distance between them, while his grandmother's arms wound themselves around his neck, trying to pull him closer. He dared not voice his complaints vocally, knowing that it would only make matters worse, and he did not want that, especially with his friends still nearby.

When the hold of her arms weakened, Iorveth hoped that she had finished her farewell, only for her to plant her hands on his cheeks and pull him in for one last kiss. Iorveth noted that he had to duck down for her to reach his face with her lips in the first place, but he tried not to dwell on that notion for much longer.

"All right then," she said, most likely more to herself than to him. Her lips had taken on the form of a thin line once more, an expression she had used much over the course of the past few months in which Iorveth had trained for this moment. She did not approve of his decision and had not tried being subtle about it either. Granuaile did not want him to leave for something like this, and she had told him enough times for him to know her speeches inside out by now.

Still, no matter how often she had tried to dissuade him from his path, Iorveth had met her stubbornness with his own headiness, and so she had never actually tried to directly convince him to stay home. For that, Iorveth was thankful, because that would have only made their final moments together worse than they deserved to be.

"Promise me one thing, though," she said just before he freed himself from her grasp and turned to join his companions.

"What is it?"

"Promise that you'll remember everything I've taught you. Swear it!" She pinched his cheek and gave it a pull, as if that would emphasise her point.

Iorveth winced and swatted her hand away, raising a brow at his grandmother as he did so. "I swear it, on my honour as Aen Seidhe."

Satisfied, Granuaile nodded. Then she lifted her hand and ruffled his hair one final time before allowing herself to smile.

"All right. Go and do your thing then. And be sure to come back some time," she said, ignoring the tears that filled her eyes as she waved him goodbye.

Before his eyes began to water as well, he turned away and returned her wave as he made his way towards Isengrim, Liaolin, and the war that would destroy everything.

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

Back in the present, Iorveth stared at his calloused fingers, thinking back to all the deeds he had done after he had left his grandmother, and sighed. In the end he had forgotten everything that had ever mattered after all. He had sworn on his pride as Aen Seidhe that he wouldn't turn his back on his grandmother's teachings, yet he had done so anyway. What would Granuaile think of him if she saw him now, like this?

"Liaolin, he... I didn't stop him. And now all I can do is remember the past and lament the fact that I had not taken Granuaile's lessons to heart," he murmured, still staring at his hands. Though they looked clean, Iorveth could only see the red that stained them, and would do so for the rest of his life.

"What... what did he do? This Liaolin?" Shani asked in a soft voice. She placed a hand on his shoulder, as if that would make the pain go away, but she pulled it back when she saw the look Iorveth levelled at her.

"That doesn't matter. What matters is that I didn't stop him when I should have. He got consumed by it all, by the dh'oine and by the war, and he got what he deserved. That's what matters." Iorveth all but snapped, forgetting for a moment that she had not meant to insult him.

Shani shivered at hearing his words and wrapped her arms around herself. The elf didn't say anything to that, didn't know what he could say to make her feel better, and instead he looked up and eyed the stars in the distance. His face went from a pained expression to a blank mask as he continued to contemplate everything he had done up till then, and whether it had all been for naught after all.

The two friends remained silent for a while, until Shani surprised him by asking, "You... you were at Brenna as well, were you not?"

Moving his gaze over to her, he waited a few moments before nodding his head. "It would be hard for me to forget about it, seeing as I have been given a souvenir I see whenever I lay gaze upon my reflection."

The human glanced at the scarf covering his empty eye socket before she, too, stared up at the starry sky, and began to recount what had happened to her back then.

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

"Shani," a voice called, seemingly from out of no where. "Hey, Shani." It almost felt like a fly, annoying her by buzzing in her face. "Shani, get up. What are you doing here?" She tried to swat at it, to get it away from her. In her mind, all she could see was blood, and dead people, and more blood, and dying people, and even more blood... And she could hear screams, and yells, and somewhere a fire seemed to rage as well... She had to go on, she had to see to her patients, she had to... "Oh for the love of..."

A splash of water woke her right up, and she jumped up faster than she knew her muscles could work, her back as straight as a tree. Once she had rubbed her eyes clear of any redundant liquid, she blinked a few times and froze at the sight of her mentor, a halfling with shaggy brown hair who went by the name Rusty, standing in front of her, his hands on his hips and a stern look on his usually friendly face.

"I-I can explain!" she called out and waved her hands in front of her, but Rusty only raised an eyebrow at her, his warm brown eyes filled with scepticism.

"If you were this tired, then you should have said so. There are still a few empty sleeping spots," he said.

"But-"

"No buts. The patients have no need for a half-dead medic. They need you at your best, or at least as good as you can possibly get with this bloody war going on."

Shani shook her head and opened her mouth to resist once more, but suddenly her words failed her, and so instead she shut her mouth again and nodded her head with a sigh. "Fine."

And so the medic went to search for one of the spots he had mentioned, and found one in the main tent, where the patients lay who had already gotten most of the treatment they had needed. On her way there, she found it surprisingly easy to ignore the yammering noises of patients still in pain and in need of treatment, her body too tired to care in that moment. This showed when she fell asleep the very moment her head hit her make-shift pillow, and she found herself too tired even to dream.

It couldn't have been much later when she woke up, and though she no longer felt exhausted, she knew that she was far from well-rested. Frowning and with her eyes still closed, she tried to go back to sleep, confused as to why she had woken up in the first place. Just as she fell back into the beckoning abyss of sleep, however, something hit her, and she sat up in one fluid motion. Her eyes at once found the culprit: a dwarf who now held his arm in the air, a small pebble in the palm of his hand. He didn't look guilty, or even as though she had caught him; he simply chucked that stone as well, this time hitting her on her shin, making the redhead wince.

She remembered that she had amputated the left arm of this dwarf only a week before, and he most likely held her accountable for this deed. It would seem that he planned on having his revenge by raining pebbles on her with his good arm for the rest of her life.

"Now, now, that's no way to treat a lady!" a familiar voice called out, and she was surprised to see an elf she had been treating kneeling next to her, a hand on her shoulder. "And most certainly not to a lady as pretty as this one."

Her cheeks flushed, but he didn't let her speak even a single word as he pushed her back down so that she lay on her back once more. Almost as if out of no where, the elf produced a thin blanket and covered her with it, all the while placing a silencing finger to her lips whenever she attempted to protest.

He let himself fall down next to her, where he sat down with his legs crossed. Not much later, the sound of a flute floated through the room, and Shani's eyes closed even when she tried her best to keep them open. She had patients to treat, people to save... The blood, the screams...

She forced her eyes open again, reprimanding herself for even thinking of going to sleep, only to realise that another couple of hours must have passed. The flute tune had changed to a different song, and when she looked around, the sight of the elf still sitting next to her surprised her.

Slowly, she sat up, rubbing at her face with one hand as she pushed herself up with the other.

"Who... who are you?" she asked him, mostly referring to his art of flute-playing.

He lifted the instrument, a simple bone flute of human craft, from his mouth, and the medic almost felt disappointed by the sudden lack of music. "You need not know my name, only that I am part of the Vrihedd Brigade."

"Ah, is that how you get hurt then?" Shani asked him, gesturing at his wounds. He had broken one of his legs and cracked a few ribs, which was why he had been in their care for a while now. It confused her that she hadn't talked to him any earlier, and also why he would suddenly keep her company like this.

The elf nodded. "Indeed. My horse looked like a porcupine at the end of that battle, with me still on its back... Though I suppose that is also why I'm here in the company of a beautiful lady such as yourself in the first place. Had I been able to continue fighting, I might as well be dead right now. A blessing in disguise, perhaps?"

The obvious nature of his flirting made Shani burst out into laughter, which in turn drew out a grin on the elf's face. For the first time in far too long, the redhead could feel the tension disappearing from her muscles, and she relaxed in the presence of this charming elf.

However, just in that moment she heard a commotion coming from outside the tent, and she got up again, knowing she had to get back to work.

"Thank you," she said before she left him to instead help a couple of medics carry a patient with a spear in his gut to the tent designated for such cases.

As it happened, that would not be the last time she met him. For the next couple of days, she would start to take better care of herself, much to Rusty's delight, by taking more breaks. She spent this time in the elf's company, just talking about all different kinds of things - where they came from, what they did growing up, what they wanted to do later on in life - and she even learnt a bit of the Elder Speech from him.

And perhaps something more began to grow between the two of them, though she did not know his name and he had not shown whether he knew hers or not. Against her better judgement, she even shared a kiss or two with him, and she wondered if perhaps this war would end after all. Perhaps she could... help this elf with his cause. The gods knew that they would need a medic if the time ever came. Though it would seem that the gods had other plans for her.

She stood at one of the exits to the tent, her dirty and sweaty palms clutching at the cloth of the structure as she felt the cool night air against her exposed skin. Though she stared at the world outside of the tent, she no longer noticed the fires raging all about the city, consuming whatever stood in its path. It could be considered a miracle that none of them had reached this section of the town yet, but who knew for how much longer that would last. Blind to the fires and deaf to the screams of people lying in the streets or running for their lives, Shani simply stared at the sky, even though the smoke that covered the city like a blanket made it impossible to see anything of it. Not that it mattered, for the only thing she could see were the dead bodies in her mind, and all the could hear were the moans and groans that came from behind her.

To anybody looking at her, it would have seemed as though she were completely and utterly void. She watched the world outside burn with empty eyes, her face a blank mask that did not betray the storm of emotions whirling inside of her. Despair, sadness, anger, hopelessness and fear, fighting each other for dominance.

Screams pulled the woman out of her stupor, screams that originated much closer to her than all the others did. She turned, her movements sluggish in her exhaustion, and saw that another medic who had been helping her take care of her patients stood slumped over a sword, its blade, red with blood, protruding from her back.

The wielder lowered his sword, allowing the body to slide down and land in a heap on the ground with a dull thud. With a rather unnecessary and flamboyant movement, the knight flicked some of the blood onto the floor, creating a red half circle before him. As he stepped over blood and body alike, Shani found her senses slowly but surely returning to her. She recognized him as belonging to the Order of the White Rose, and she could barely hear his voice over the sound of her heart thumping loudly in her ribcage.

"Oi! You there! Yes, you with the pretty face!" He pointed a gloved finger in the direction of Shani, as if it wasn't already obvious enough that he meant her, the only other standing person.

"What is it?" Shani asked, her voice coarse from disuse. "Do you... do you require medical attention?"

The knight sneered at her, and the despair and fear and sadness and anger and hopelessness from before returned, and it almost felt as though someone had just punched her in the gut. She bit her lip until she tasted blood when she saw him look around the room and noticed the dark look on his face.

"I will kill every last Nilfgaardian patient and Squirrel in this room, and you will not stop me, understood?" he said and he pointed his sword at her in warning, blood still dripping down its side and splattering to the floor. He levelled her with a gaze that promised a lot of pain if she thought of disobeying him. "And don't even think about trying to hide any from me."

Shani could only stare and watch as he made his way over to the closest patient, a Nilfgaardian soldier who had already lost his legs in this terrible war. The man whose name Shani did not know had been on the way to... well, not exactly recovery, but at least survival, and he had suffered many restless nights for it. He did not seem aware of his surroundings as the knight hovered over him before lowering his sword into his chest. Death must have come over the poor soul almost immediately.

From the corner of her eye, the woman noticed her mentor standing in the third and final entrance to the tent. The halfling's clothes, usually bright and the epitome of tidiness, looked dirty and disheveled. He hadn't had enough time to take a break, much less change his clothes, despite the fact that he had constantly annoyed Shani about just that.

"Ru-" she began, seeing what little color her mentor had had left in his face disappear at the sight before him. He held a scalpel in his hand before she could say any more, and he flung it at the knight with the precision that only a halfling could muster.

It struck him in the centre of his chest after he had turned to welcome the newcomer. If he hadn't worn his armor, and if Rusty hadn't thrown a mere scalpel, he would have fallen to the floor, dead. But he was wearing his armor and Rusty had thrown a mere scalpel, and so he plucked it out of his chain mail, gave it a look of disdain before flinging it to the side. It hit the floor with a thunk, scarcely missing another patient, who squirmed at the sight of it but dared not make a fuss about it.

This had been the wrong thing to do, though for who exactly, Shani would find out soon enough.

Tired and having sacrificed so much to help these people, people this knight would try to kill after all his hard work, Rusty let out a yell before charging towards the enemy, but his close combat skills could never match his ability with throwing weapons. His opponent managed to kick him to the side without even breaking a sweat, and the halfling's head smacked against the ground with a sickening crunch before his body went slack. Something inside the redheaded woman snapped at the sight of it all.

"Is that all you've got? If you wish to challenge the law, you have to be better than that," the knight spat with raised eyebrows.

He turned back just in time to see Shani's fist come flying towards him, but due to her anger the attack was sloppy and went wide. The knight dodged the punch with ease and threw his own fist at her instead. It hit its mark and sent the woman spiralling to the ground, blood filling her mouth as she did so.

"Shani!" a voice called out from somewhere beside her, and a hand appeared on her shoulder. Even with her consciousness fading, she could recognise the voice of the Vrihedd lieutenant, and from his weak grasp she gathered that he shouldn't even have gotten out of bed in the first place. She pictured his smile even as her vision faded.

Somewhere at the back of her mind, she heard the voice of the knight, footsteps approaching her, and fear began to fill her at her inability to move. The elf's hand disappeared from her back, which only intensified her fright, and she heard him say something, but his voice was too thick to understand his words. Her tongue forced her to swallow and the bitter taste of her blood brought her back to the world of the conscious for a bit.

"Shut your trap and die quietly," the knight growled.

Shani managed to open an eye, only to notice the elf kneeling in front of her, posing himself as an obstacle between herself and the knight. She could only watch as the enemy began to move, and he seemed to do so at the pace of a snail, yet still she was not capable of getting up and stopping him. She stared as the elf, her patient, her friend, the one who had helped her cope with everything that had happened, was impaled by that damned sword.

A strange noise that sounded suspiciously like a gurgle filled the air, together with the splattering of even more blood to the already stained ground. The Vrihedd lieutenant wheezed a few words that Shani couldn't quite catch - and this sound would haunt her for the rest of her life - before he fell to his face.

The knight laughed out loud, clutching at his belly with one hand as if to try and contain his mirth. He laughed and laughed, choked on his spittle, coughed, and then he laughed some more.

Finally regaining control over her body, she clenched her hands into fists so tight she feared they might burst, and was surprised to find that she held a scalpel in her right one. When or why she had taken it out she did not know, but in that moment her despair and fear and sadness and anger and hopelessness turned into determination, and she knew what she had to do.

Paying Shani no more heed than he would have a mouse staring at him, the knight grinned as the last spurts of life sustaining essence left the elf's body. He rolled the body onto its back and stomped on its chest in an almost casual manner, producing a loud cracking sound as bones snapped beneath his boot. As he did so, he continued to giggle like a school girl, and after a while he threw his head back... until a blade pierced his scrotum all the way to the hilt.

Shani lifted her gaze to stare at him with empty eyes. When he looked down, confusion written on his face, she twisted the scalpel in her hands and listened as he let out a scream filled with agony. After she pulled her weapon away the knight fell to the ground, his hands clutching at the wound as he continued his bellowing.

The redhead did not allow him any rest, however, for at once she began to crawl away from him, her mind as blank as her expression. She ignored his shrill screams and, on hands and knees, made her way to her fallen friend in order to cradle his body to her chest.

The light that always shone in his eye had disappeared, and his face remained void of that grin he had always kept for her. Blood, faint twitches and the stench of the recently diseased was all that remained. He was dead, and he'd never smile for her again, or compliment her on her appearance despite the fact that she looked like a moving corpse more often than not these days. Echoes of the pain that had filled him just before the life had left him still haunted his features.

The medic's hands began to shake as emotions she couldn't possibly describe flooded her system, and a new purpose began to fill her like a wildfire in the summer, a need that she had to quench. She tenderly released the elf's body, caressing his hair and his ears one last time before turning her attention back to the knight, who still lived.

He had somehow managed to staunch the bleeding and now lay on his back, groaning and moaning, though no one seemed interested in helping him.

Once more on her hands and knees, Shani crawled towards him, her scalpel still in her tight grip. The blood on it made a trail on the ground and her hands left red prints wherever they touched the ground, but the redhead only had eyes for the man lying before her.

4, 8, 15, 16, 23, 42

"When... When I was done with him t-they couldn't even identify him at least not... not by his face... They said that Ithat I stabbed him at least twenty-six times although I guess it was really hard to tell... given how very little there was left of his head by then..." Shani couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze as she finished retelling the tale.

Iorveth forced her out of her memories by placing a hand on her shoulder and shaking her. He frowned; from the paleness of her cheeks, he realised that this had shocked her greatly back then. Though something like this seemed like nothing to the unit leader who had murdered so many people he could not even remember all their faces, he had to be blind to not see the meaning behind it for someone like Shani. The redhead was the kind of person to follow the law no matter what, and to have the law itself confront her in such a manner that she had had to choose between her patients and doing what the law demanded... It must have made quite the impact to see her own decision in such a manner.

"I do not know how it must have felt for you to do such a thing, but I can imagine it, since perhaps I have gone through similar things..." he began, carefully choosing his words as he went along. "But I believe that you did the right thing. It was either him or your patients, and what worth is there in killing people who cannot defend themselves in the first place? He couldn't have been a very good person in the first place."

Yet as he said so, he couldn't help but think back to all the times he had been the knight, killing all the dh'oine he came across, whether they had two legs or one, whether they were awake or unconscious.

The look on his face must have told her enough, for soon she changed the subject to something else. "How... how did you meet Geralt?"

In that instance, Shani's complete person became clear to him, and for a moment he understand her inside and outside. From what she had said before, before all these memories, one could only describe her relationship with Geralt as strained. Yet for her to steer the conversation in that direction, simply because he had looked stricken...

"Certain circumstances brought us together. We met in Flotsam and travelled to Vergen together. I suppose you could call us something that resembles friends," he answered, not wanting her emotional sacrifice to go to waste, though he did not tell her of the sword. He thought it best not to tell anybody if it did not need saying.

Shani seemed to understand that, and she nodded before averting her gaze. "Well, as I told you before... I fell in love with him. But, as there often is, there was another woman, a sorceress. I asked him to choose, and he chose her. Though I suppose it did not happen exactly like that... There was also a boy, and not in the way you might think; I found him nearby Vizima, which was also when I first met Geralt after... well, after he had died. The boy, Alvin, had some sort of magical talent. I know that Triss was the logical option, and I knew it too, but it just... hurt, in some way. Love isn't supposed to be logical after all, is it?"

She looked at him again, and Iorveth could see the pain she had felt back then, and which she felt even now. The need to be desired, to feel wanted... He believed that he, too, knew how she felt.

And before he knew it, he leant towards her and kissed her.

At first, it was short and sweet; a simple peck before he pulled back again. From her wide eyes, it was obvious he had surprised her with this. Perhaps she hadn't believed that a man such as himself could be this gentle. He smirked at the thought, and he stopped his retreat to watch her process the situation, their lips but a hair's breadth apart. Just then, a different kind of emotion filled her eyes, in that peculiar combination of green, and blue, and before Iorveth could regret what he had done, she moved back in and planted her lips on his.

This time, however, neither of them pulled back.

Shani lifted a hand and placed it on the back of his neck, as if testing the waters. At the same time, Iorveth opened his mouth to let out his tongue, which she almost gratefully accepted by greeting it with her own. As their tongues twisted around each other, almost dancing together, the elf lifted a hand to reach for a breast, squeezing the soft flesh. The fingers that lay on the back of his neck curled up, scratching him lightly as the medic let out a soft moan.

At the sound that left her, something inside of him stirred. He had felt it when watching her hips sway, but never to such an extent that it caused an actual, physical reaction within him. It had been... far too long since he last felt something like that.

He grabbed her arms and pushed her away from him then, breaking the kiss rather abruptly.

"We cannot- we should not- at least not here," he tried to say, but Shani didn't want to hear any of it.

The medic decided to take matters into her own hands and pulled herself free from his grasp, which he had kept admittedly light in order to stop himself from hurting her. Once liberated, she pushed him onto his back and, holding herself up with one hand, climbed on top of him. Meanwhile, she undid his trousers with her other hand before slipping it into his pants.

She cupped him lightly, felt him stiffening beneath her touch. Before he knew it his mouth latched onto her neck, sucking, licking and nipping at the skin until he had heard just about all the possible sounds this woman could make, her ministrations down there all but forgotten. Not that it mattered, for the noises leaving her throat goaded him on, and after so long being inactive it did not take much to get him started.

When enough had become enough, Iorveth pushed the medic off of him, ignoring her as her moans turned into whines. Her protests died off when his mouth found hers again, and this time there was nothing soft about the kiss as he practically devoured her. At the same time, he pushed his trousers down so that they pooled around his ankles. Not much later his hand slid up her thigh, pushing her dress out of the way so that he had access to her underclothes and almost tearing them away when he found them.

In the meantime, Shani's hands were all over him, most likely relishing in the feel of his soft skin beneath her digits and the way his muscles rippled whenever he moved or she touched him just so. The elf couldn't help but smirk into the kiss at how much she seemed to enjoy the amount of control she had over the way his body reacted to her touch.

With one hand he supported himself while with the other he guided himself to her core, never breaking the kiss. When his tip brushed against her entrance, he cracked open one eye to stare down at her sweaty, dazed form. Iorveth hesitated, unsure as he hovered over her entrance. In a split second decision, he broke the kiss just and grabbed her thighs, using her momentary surprise to flip her around in one fluid motion, the sudden movement making his muscles groan. She squealed when she felt her body turn, her hardened nubs now brushing against the ground.

Seeing her on her ass lifted high in the air and legs spread open, he couldn't hold himself back any longer and slid into her gradually, the movement eliciting a pained grunt from him. Shani groaned and ground herself back into him, trembling as he filled her and stretched her walls to capacity and a little beyond with his size.

She bit her lip to muffle a pained gasp, but the sound did not escape Iorveth's sharp ears, and he could tell she did so to keep back a loud yell of mixed pain and desire. But in the end she failed when it spilled from her mouth in short, ragged gasps. For her sake - well, also for his own sake, but mostly for hers - he kept his strokes long and slow, though after a few moments as their bodies adjusted to better accommodate one another, he quickened the pace. Each wet slap of their flesh connecting was accompanied by a groan, and Shani arched her back trying to meet his thrusts.

From the moans that soon replaced the groans, the elf reckoned that his partner now began to enjoy their joining as well, though in the heat of the moment, as he slipped out of her and re-entered her, that did not happen to be a priority. If she truly did not like it, he expected her to stop him.

When he straightened his back, her whimpers echoed in the night and he moved his hands to grasp her hips, his fingers digging into the skin as he grit his teeth. Using her body as leverage, he tried to go even deeper inside of her. Shani gasped and shuddered, groaning as he filled her, and she did her best to meet his thrusts despite the quick pace he had set, never reacting to the pain his nails must have caused her.

It was getting good, really, really damned good. Far too soon, Shani felt the coiling heat gathering just below her navel, and those tingles that had been absent for too long began to build, spreading to her fingertips and down her legs with every additional stroke. From the quickening of his pace and from his panting she could tell that he had arrived at the edge as well.

She blinked sweat and strands of crimson hair from her gaze and quickly clamped a hand over her own breast, shuddering as she expertly began manipulating her own oversensitive flesh with one hand, while carefully balancing herself with the other so she didn't end up eating a mouthful of dirt. Now if she could only keep this up as Iorveth filled her, then maybe...

But it was not meant to be, for just as she began to tweak her nipple, the elf's hands clamped down on her hips with enough force to bruise her. He let out a roar and delivered one final thrust, his already impressive girth expanding a little more, before seemingly imploding within her.

This time, the force of his nails clawing at her flesh made her wince, though feeling of her skin tearing all but disappeared in comparison to the pressure of Iorveth's seed flooding her innards. For a moment, Shani thought the feeling of that surge alone might push her over the edge... but then Iorveth collapsed on top of her, gasping. He planted his arms by her sides, barely keeping himself from pinning her down entirely, and his slick member slipped from her depths as it began to soften. He sighed before he fell next to her, panting like he had just run a marathon.

For a moment, she wanted to be upset with him. She had been so close! But to see the proud, battle-hardened elf brought low - humbled even - by one such as herself, a small and slender redhead... It was an empowering experience to say the least, not to mention amusing, and she couldn't help the titter that escaped her throat.

Iorveth's eye opened and he pierced her with a frantic gaze, looking very much as though he wanted to say something, anything to defend his performance, but he still felt far too weak to do so. That only seemed to make her giggling worse.

Probably due to sudden protein deficiency, Shani thought as she clutched at herself, trying to catch her breath even as she examined her lower body. He had unloaded an incredible amount into her; it must have been a considerable amount of time since he'd last been with anyone, so she supposed she couldn't blame him... too much.

Still, the elf had been far from polite when they had first met, despite the fact that she had saved his life. She intended to keep this moment fresh in her memory for a long time.

To rub the situation in, the medic couldn't stop herself from mussing up his hair as much as she could with his scarf still wound around his head. The elf grumbled something under his breath as he crawled next to her and placed his head on her bosom yet again. As she listened to his breathing even out, Shani raised a finger to trace it along the edge of his ear and watch it twitch, until she, too, fell asleep under the bright peaceful light of the stars.

The Grinning Psychopath: WHOOOO! Heh the pair of em finally got it on! heheheh. about damn time some of you probably think.

Eh hope you enjoyed this chapter. The majority of the credit for this piece of art goes to the lovely, illustrious and exubriant author Valoja, who wrote up most of this while me and Ravana... well i've been too lazy, and Ravana's been busy unfortunately with life.

Those of you who enjoyed this story please go give Valoja and her story Tears of War my warmest regards, and a round of applause and all that for her epic work.

AlexanderRavana: I have no excuses. Well besides University starting and all that jazz. However, I hope that you will enjoy this new chapter and all the saucyness, yeah. This will be upgraded, slowly. But it will.

As for Valoja, she's a gem, isn't she? Just helping out like that isn't something everyone would do and she deserves all the attention of our readers.