A/N - so so sorry for the late arrival of this chapter. i had hit a writer's block, and had a ton of other things to do. please enjoy - this will be the last chapter; that is unless i think of a good reason to carry it on or other people wish me to. thank you for your patience!

Chapter Three

The time for him to leave was drawing nearer. Iorveth had made a promise to take the witcher to Aedirn, and now that the former had entered an intimate relationship, for want of a better term, the elf was becoming increasingly reluctant to leave Flotsam. Lorella had picked up on the change in his demeanour; he became more affectionate and they had sex with a raw passion that was almost desperate, as if he could not get enough of her. Of course, he had to tell her soon, to up and leave without explanation would be cruel. He didn't tell her how he felt about her, either. Truly, he was begrudged to leave her behind, for fear she may find someone else or something would happen to her, and put his unsaid thoughts into their kisses and lovemaking. It wasn't in his nature to confess tender feelings. The mere thought of it disrupted something in his stomach, a sickening and foreign sensation. One day, he could put the situation off no longer.

As usual, Iorveth slyly made his way to Lorella's room above the inn, he lay on the bed and kicked his boots off, heart doing somersaults whilst he waited. He was surprised that, after the incident with the witcher at the brothel, Margot had given up trying to recruit Lorella as one of her girls. Although, Iorveth mused, the reason for this was probably she was afraid that he would follow up on his threat about mounting her head on a spike. Not that he would, of course – she was valuable to him and the scoia'tael.

Lorella barely batted an eyelid when she saw Iorveth lay on her bed, very much relaxed, his arms by his head. His eyes were closed and his head bobbing along slowly to music that only he could apparently hear. He held a sheaf of wheat between his teeth but took it out as Lorella entered the room. Before she could say a word, he swept her up in a passionate embrace, the smell of cooking mingling with the citrusy scent of her hair.

"Hello to you too," she breathed, her bosom heaving.

"I missed you today." He nuzzled her soft curls then trailed kisses along her jawline.

"And I, you," she replied. There was slight confusion in her voice. As he continued to kiss her neck she spoke. "Something you need to talk about?"

He stiffened and ceased all action immediately. "What makes you say that?"

"I just know. Call it woman's intuition."

He pulled away from her and led her to the bed by her hand. Sitting down on the edge, he invited her to join him.

"I have to leave," he told her flatly. No point in beating around the bush.

"Well, I'd expect so, considering you don't live here," said Lorella, perplexed.

Iorveth sighed irritably. No matter how much tender affection he held for her, the fact still remained that her slight dimness infuriated him. "No, as in, leave Flotsam."

Lorella yanked her hand away from his as if burned. "What? Why?"

"You are aware that I am working with Geralt?" She nodded and he continued. "The witcher requires me to go with him. On the prison barge. Over the period of the next couple of days he requires my help and attention."

"But why?"

"For the love of the gods, Lorella, that doesn't concern you," he snapped. He ignored the hurt expression on her face. "The point still stands – I have to go, and I do not know for how long I will be away."

She remained silent for a moment, mulling over his words, surveying him with a shrewd look in her eye that he did not like. "And there's no chance of me coming with you?"

"No," he replied simply. "He needs me – or rather we require one another for our own means – and we set sail to Aedirn. That is all; it is not up for debate."

"I'm not debating with you," she said, now infuriatingly calm. "You're doing what you need to do, and we won't be… together anymore. I get it."

"I had made this commitment before our regular meetings and such," Iorveth told her sharply. "It is not a matter of whether or not I want to leave you. I have to – it is vital you understand this."

"I do understand! Don't sit there and treat me like an errant child," she said hotly, springing to her feet.

"By elven standards you are," he retorted.

Lorella's eyes blazed with a fire he had never seen before. "And nineteen is an adult by human standards, so don't pull that shit with me."

She turned away from him and began undressing out of her work clothes with unwonted fury. A pinafore flew up in the air and landed crumpled at the foot of the bed whilst the drab grey dress with the soup stains down the front was flicked from her foot against the wall. Lorella pulled on a skirt and chemise, doing her utmost to ignore the well-toned arms that had found themselves snaked around her waist, and the elf's face that pressed against her ear.

"I don't want to lose you," he murmured, moving her hands away from the buttons of her chemise and doing them up himself, slowly, and one by one. He turned her round to face him. "My affection for you is great. That is why I do not wish for you to accompany me. You are inexperienced in battle, and to see a rogue arrow embed itself into your skull, to see your lifeless body fall at my feet… It would be too much."

Her anger abated, Lorella rested her chin on his shoulder. She kissed the delicate spot below his ear lobe. "I know. Besides, it'd be inappropriate for you to be fucking me in the lower levels of the barge."

Iorveth chuckled softly. The sound reverberated against her ear and her stomach swooped sickeningly. "That too. I just ask you one thing."

He held her out at arm's length and searched her eyes, boring into her very soul, his own gaze beseeching her. "There is a messy business involving Loredo, and, should there be any trouble – protest, raze of the town, anything – then I implore you to remain here, in this room, unseen and safe. I do not wish to return to find that you have been burned at the stake or otherwise. Do you understand?" he added fiercely, giving her a little shake. He couldn't make her understand this any better. She wasn't stupid, but other people were, and panicked people were like animals; each for their own and he didn't want the risk of her being killed.

Lorella nodded. "Of course. Just be careful yourself, okay? There are a lot of people who want to see you dead."

He snorted. "Let them try."

She smiled at him. "There's the stubborn elf I fell for."

And suddenly she was kissing him with a raw passion, smashing her lips against his, tears pricking her eyes at the thought of him never returning. His hand found her waist and pulled her closer, his other hand carding through her soft curls. He relished the silky feel of them between his calloused fingers, not knowing if and when he will be able to card his fingers through them again. Breathing deeply at her fruity scent until he was sure that the aroma would refuse to dissipate from his nasal cavity for days, he pulled away, surveying the soft contours of her face.

"I will miss you," he murmured at last, stroking the rosiness of her cheek.

She smiled sadly. "I will miss you, too."

Lorella pecked an affectionate kiss on his lips. "I will wait for you," she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, speaking the words of assurance he was so desperate to hear. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Wordlessly, Iorveth wiped it away gently with his thumb. There, he led her over to the bed, where they proceeded to make their last night together one to remember.

Flotsam had been reduced to ruins. Buildings were aflame, people ran and screamed, and the last thing Lorella remembered seeing was Geralt leading a tied up and bound Iorveth through town. Her heart beat erratically in her chest as she grabbed the rusty dagger that she had acquired to venture into the forest all that time ago. It reminded her of her first meeting with Iorveth. The memory brought a pang of sadness of worry to her heart as she slipped out the window. It was more difficult that she thought; her skirt snagged here and there and the sloping roof was rather uneven. Iorveth had made it look so easy!

Lorella peered across the horizon for any sign of the elf now; though all she saw was flashes of orange and a blood red sky, flames licking at anything they touched. With more grace than she intended, Lorella slipped down from the low roof, her sudden appearance surprising no one as they ran for cover and safety. Bodies hung from nooses in the town square. Turning away from this sickening image, Lorella ran in the opposite direction to every other citizen. Deaf to their protests that she was going the wrong way, she carried on, sure that this would lead her to the carnage – and hopefully to Iorveth. Her stomach was in knots at his unknown fate. Had the witcher betrayed him? Had the townsfolk acquired their revenge and murdered him where he stood, tied up and helpless? She knew that wouldn't be able to rest, and her stomach contracted all the more when she remembered that she had broken her promise to him of remaining safe in her room above the inn. Yet surely saving him or ensuring his safety would be a fair trade off for a so-called broken promise – wouldn't it?

Palms sweaty and clutching the dagger, Lorella pressed on, dodging people here and there. Her mouth became dry as she walked onto the docks. The wooden planks creaked and shook with thunderous steps of townsfolk and she suddenly felt afraid that the whole thing would give way. But, before she barely had time to wonder how well she could swim or a not, a shout above the din caught her attention.

"… or I'll burn these sluts alive!"

Looking around wildly, Lorella's gaze clapped upon Loredo. The latter was stood atop a tower, holding a petrified-looking elven woman. Approaching the tower, another shout reached her ears: familiar and welcomed.

"Leave them; our women are prepared to die!" Iorveth was bellowing to Geralt above the clamour. The elf was stood at the edge rail of the prison barge. The witcher cast one last look at him before vaulting over the rail and sprinting in the direction of the tower. Whether or not Loredo was about to receive his come-uppance or the elven women saved, she did not know, for she only had eyes for the battle scarred elf that now stood on the boat.

"Iorveth!" she yelled. "Iorveth!"

Her sounds were drowned out by screams and violent crackling of fire that had begun to spread with frightening voracity. Lorella clattered over the wooden planks of the docks. Unfortunately, in her haste, her attention for all else round her had been reduced to nought. An elbow collided with her mouth and caused her lip to bleed. Momentarily reeling from the shock – and in her moment of stillness – another body part of someone's hit her in the eye.

Must move, was her only coherent thought, apart from Iorveth, Iorveth, Iorveth.

She began to run blindly again, only just avoiding further more collisions, repeating his name like a mantra to keep her going, the rhythm coinciding with the rapid beating of her heart. Eventually she had come close enough to the boat and shouted his name again in desperate hopes that he would hear her.

The elf swung round, trying to place the location of the familiar voice. Finally, he saw Lorella on the edge of the docks, waving and yelling for his attention. Abandoning all thought, all common sense, he rushed over to her, relief and anger and affection washing over him at once.

"What are you doing here?" he shouted, mildly irritated.

"I had to make sure they hadn't got you, that – that you weren't dead," she choked out.

With incredible grace and speed, Iorveth vaulted over the side of the boat and landed silently next to her. "My sweet, beautiful dh'oine, it would take more than a few humans to finish me off."

She half-laughed, half-cried with relief. He held her close and for once, completely disregarded the fact he was in the presence of other humans and elves. Right now, Lorella was what mattered. The yells of terrified townsfolk blurred into background noise as he held her close.

"And I do remember you promising me that you would remain in your room," he murmured in her hair. Though there was no vehemence in his voice, Lorella blanched.

"I saw the witcher taking you somewhere… I thought he had betrayed you…" her meek voice trailed off as he soothed her curls.

"A ruse," he said simply. He stiffened, then suddenly pushed her away from him. For a moment she stood still, dazed, until Iorveth pulled an arrow from his quiver, nocked the arrow and aimed straight in front of him. A moment later and Lorella knew why: a man was clattering towards them, a cleaver held aloft, his face twisted in rage.

"You bastard! You killed my brothers you bastard! Human fucker! Isn't murder enough for you?"

The man's words were silenced as Iorveth released the arrow. It hit the man's skull with a dull thunk and he keeled forward, anger still etched upon his face. Lorella looked on, shocked.

"It is not safe for you here now," the elf told her. "You need to go, and as do I."

"But –" Lorella began but he cut her off.

"Lorella," he said, his voice urgent. "Go. I will be fine. I am a scoia'tael leader, remember?"

She nodded. And with that their lips met, sharing the most passionate kiss either had ever experienced, unspoken feelings of love and tenderness manifested only by this action. Unwillingly, they broke apart, and Iorveth climbed back aboard the barge. The witcher joined him moments later after having saved the elven women from the burning tower.

"We need to go," the white-haired witcher said firmly. He cast only a fleeting look at Iorveth and Lorella before retreating to the other side of the deck.

"I will come back for you," Iorveth promised, his voice hard full of the rugged determination he had when they first met. He drank in her appearance as the prison barge left the harbour until she faded out of sight, his heart heavy.

Iorveth crossed over to the bough of the ship and looked out into the distance at the blood red sun on the horizon. A deep sadness weighed heavily in the pit of his stomach when, for the first time, he questioned his choices on whether he was doing the right thing.