Chapter Text
Roche could hear his men's heated discussion in the other room. He wished he had something to cover his ears with, because the things he overheard... well, his office was locked for a reason. It hit him in the guts when one of them made a comparison between him and his mother, a thing where he'd normally started to riot, but he had no dignity left to open that door, to make himself vulnerable to the accusations.
There had been one split second after Iorveth had stormed out of the corridor, after he had left his room to face his soldiers, to give them a proper explanation of why the infamous scoia'tael commander had spent the night in his quarters. A moment he missed because how would he even have explained himself. Instead, he just harrumphed and went back to his room, ears glowing red.
Yeah Roche, he thought to himself, that definitely didn't make things better.
***
When lunch came, he had an explanation ready. The hardest parts to tackle had been the reoccurrence of that event, Roche figured. Truth being told he still had no satisfying argument to why Iorveth would do this to him if they not actually spent the nights together.
So, when the perfect time came to bring forth his excuse, he chickened out.
***
Angry with himself he went to bed later that day. The bed was still as messy as he had left it in the morning. His morning had begun too hastily. Thoughts about talking to Ves and asking her expertise were roaming his head, yet it didn't take long for the blue stripe commander to fall asleep, god knows he needed it. His dreams of a quiet night were shattered, however.
The same scratching over stone and bumping against the window as in the previous night woke him. Roche hadn't even bothered to place the chair back in front the window this time. How Iorveth still was under the impression his nightly visits wouldn't wake him remained a question to him.
Roche pressed his eyelids shut more tightly and concentrated on breathing steadily. His cover hadn’t been blown before, so why should it happen now?
The first night Iorveth broke into his house, he had panicked. Not knowing what to do he had just laid there, confused, preparing for an attack that never came. He had thought it was a one-time occurrence, so he hadn’t planned his reaction for the second time. Only this time, he feared that reacting to the elf would reveal that he had been awake previously, and wouldn’t that make things awkward? Instead, Roche hoped and prayed that he could lay still enough until Iorveth disappeared again.
The further the game went on, the harder it was for Roche to justify a reaction. That’s what he told himself: while every normal person would have probably come to the conclusion to pretend that something the nightly visitor did woke them up, it wasn’t the case for Roche. His thoughts were that Iorveth either believed him to be asleep, or that he had been eavesdropping all along.
There was yet another reason he failed to admit. When he would make himself noticeable, Iorveth would have to leave. Secretly he didn’t want Iorveth to leave though.
***
Iorveth bypassed his bed and sat on the chair. Roche couldn’t help but peep while the elf made his way through the small room. The elf looked beautiful like that. A bit cautious, yes, as to not fall over something and make noise, but less angry than when they were fighting.
Roche had a favourite activity for the nights in which Iorveth’s visits wouldn’t let him sleep: running scenarios in his head about the elf and himself. Some were harmless and some less so, helped by Iorveth’s scent and the subtle noises he made from time to time.
Then the elf strolled over to his bed. What??? It couldn’t be that early already. Panik arose within Roche, making him almost too restless to lie still. He pressed his lips shut and tried not to move, almost stopping to breath. A rustling gave away that Iorveth searched something in his pocket. This could be a knife. Their game was suddenly getting more dangerous. Too dangerous.
As subtle as possible Roche opened one eye. Good, the elf was busy and not looking in his direction. And even bigger relief was that the object Iorveth fetched wasn't a knife but a simple marker. Still, he probably shouldn't be content with what the elf was doing.
When the cold tip touched his forehead Roche nearly shrugged. This thing would hopefully wash off easily.
He had let Iorveth do so many things, maybe it should be his turn now to shock the scoia'tael.
Just in the moment when Iorveth withdrew his hand Roche's one shot forth and grabbed tightly around Iorveth's wrist.
"This time you are not getting away so easily", Roche mumbled with voice hoarse from not using it for so long.
With his free hand Iorveth reached for his dagger, and Roche was clever enough let his hand slip. Surprisingly enough he wasn't afraid the elf would kill him, although Roche's surprise 'attack' had taken Iorveth off guard. Step by step he made his way to the door, not leaving the Temerian out of sight for a single heartbeat, the knife pointed straight in his direction.
"You are only half as quiet as you think", Roche admitted.
"And you... wait... you were awake all those nights? But..."
"Why I let it happen? Why I let you shame me in front of my unit? Heck, if only I knew."
Iorveth's dagger was sinking. Instead of making the run like planned he stepped closer to Roche's bed again.
"So now that you know that I wasn't sleeping..."
The elf grinned mischievously. "You are a fool if you think I will let you sleep in peace from now on."
Roche swallowed. It was the answer he had expected, also the one he had been longing for, although everything in him screamed that it was wrong. That there was an intimacy to Iorveth's visits that... well, they were enemies.
Iorveth ruffled Roche's hair. Again, way too intimate, especially since his hair was nothing Roche openly displayed. Then the elf turned around, this time really going for the door, and at the same time it was the first time he voluntarily showed Roche his vulnerable backside.
"Iorveth?"
The elf hesitated and shot Roche a questioning look.
"What did you write on my face?" All of the sudden the situation relaxed and Iorveth laughed, and left without answering, while Roche tried to rub the ink off his forehead. The words 'Scoia’tael 4 life' however, seemed quite permanent.