Warnings: possible OOCness, mentions of sex, violence and occasional swearing.
A/N1: I tried... I'm not sure if I succeeded though.
A/N2: ship them, I ship them so hard *weeps*
It's for Temeria
By your-biohazardous-friend
"you two have a history, or do I have it wrong?" – Geralt of Rivia to Brigida Papebrock about his assumption of her relationship with Vernon Roche
Only few people knew about Roche's 'secret talent', sometimes Brigida helplessly hoped she was the only one: The captain was quite good at drawing. Of course Roche was the best at quick sketches of naked women in indecent poses and lesbian sex scenes. But, as always, there was more to that. One day in the stack of those sex-deprived pictures scattered around his personal quarter, the dame found several portraits of his Special Force members drew with burned firewood at the back of the propaganda posters. Of course Roche's drawing style left a great deal to be desired, yet Papebrock had no problems with recognizing depicted people. There was Thirteen, with para-Sarmatian hairdo, bald and clean shaved Fenn, Ves with a long, thick braid and surprisingly, her own portrait that Vernon must have had sketched from his memory. This particular piece Brigida folded carefully and hid it in one of multiply pockets of her dress.
From time to time, when they were all alone, the non-human hunter would take off his weird "chaperon" from his head, revealing why he hid his skull so sedulously: several scars were running through his head, visibly contrasting with his short black hair. There was that one particular scar - much longer, nastier and uneven than others - running downward from Roche's left temple, cutting off most of his ear to disappear somewhere under his blue uniform. Brigida tried to question her companion once about the scar's origin, yet the man refused to give full answer. Apart of 'Scoia'tael whoresons' which was nothing more than almost inaudible hiss, Vernon lips remained sealed in thin, looped downward line. After the silent refusal, the topic was never brought back again.
Of course they were having sex. Tons of sex, actually. Brigida loved all that sneaking, hiding and having secret meetings behind Foltest's and her family back. Papebrock admired how well Vernon could lie right in his king's face about his absence when his assistance was urgent. She, on the other hand, as slightly worst at the task, hid their affair under a cloak of bossy, spoiled attitude. Roche attracted her with his passion, determination and well… great, scarred body shaped on the battlefield. From time to time, as they were lying naked, sweaty and tired, Roche was asking her for weird favors – go there, do that, ask this. He always told her 'it's for Temeria'. Brigida did all of this only for him. How could a woman possibly say 'no' to a man who was more efficient than Fisstech?
It was a gradual change, hard to notice if not paid enough attention to. It started with simple "busy" here and there, thrown at her whenever she tried to stop him as the captain passed her in a hallway. Back then she thought that maybe it was this Iorveth persona of whom she had been hearing about for some time. Time was passing and the dame noticed more: like their meetings begun to be less frequent, shorter and less passionate. From time to time they were nothing more than Roche's fiery commentates on how and how many elves he had killed, Iorveth, Iorveth and Iorveth all over again. Gods, Brigida have never been a non-human hater, but she hated this particular Scoia'tael leader with passion. Moreover those small favors asked casually from time to time were becoming more complicated, demanding and time consuming. 'it's for Temeria' Roche insisted each time, as if it was the only logical reason for all of his requests.
Yet there she was. The current state of their 'affair' was looming large in Brigida's mind as it was already nonexistent. Yet the dame, as desperate as she was, decided to keep all the eggs in the basket. At the next time she spotted Roche alone just standing in the middle of the hall, taking a small break, she quickly grabbed him by his elbow, dragging him to nearest empty room. As the heavy doors closed behind her, she attacked his lips with hers, guiding his calloused palm under multiply layers of her dress. He slowly gave up, as if remembering something he forgot long time ago. She sighed relieved when he scratched her neck with his stubble. Then, when Brigida finally managed to undo first layer of his uniform she decided to let go of all thoughts bottling inside her head.
Roche was taken aback by her love confession, with which Brigida had been tormenting herself with for weeks. Vernon tensed, showed her off himself and started to circle around the room, like a caged animal, glancing at his lover from time to time, scratching his chin as if thinking something through. Then he left, without any 'bye', 'farewell' or 'kiss my arse', nothing. Brigida was left half-naked with widened, confused eyes.
He didn't pay any attention to her since then, either pretending she didn't exist, finding a great excuse to not be near her or having his second-in-command around to back him up. The dame was confused by his behavior. Roche wasn't the man who run from any trouble like that.
If not for Ves, Brigida would still be locked in her room, lovesick and confused, sniffing to a sleeve of one of her velvet dresses. The dame would never know if the Blue Stripe female was sent by her captain or if she, herself, just took a pity of her.
But one day the sharpshooter, dressed up as a maid, came to the dame living quarter, took the noblewoman by her shoulder, shook her violently and whispered to her ear
'he never give a damn'
With those words the warrior left as if nothing had been said or done.
Then it all clicked. How could she be so blind to not to notice it sooner? That, all in all, the captain had only one true love: It's for Temeria – Brigida recollected his words. No, no other woman could ever take place the homeland had in his heart. Even Ves was higher in Roche's twisted hierarchy, from a simple reason – she was way more useful. The short haired blonde was a sharpshooter, moreover as a nobody she could be anybody, whomever Vernon had asked her to be: a noblewoman from nonexistent country, a maid, a whore. While Brigida…. Suddenly the Papebrock realized what she really was to him. That she was kept close because of her firm, soft body and eagerness. The dame was nothing more than a simple stress relief, kept close because she was obviously cheaper and safer than a 'faceless' whore from a brothel. Once she fell in love with him, she was considered as 'broken' thus no longer desired.
All the love and affection she had, just seconds ago, toward the captain vanished without a trace. Brigida felt offended and betrayed. She literally wasted two years on a guy she never had and never, ever would have.
Go plough yourself, you ploughing whoreson! She shouted into an empty room. She spotted a piece of paper sticking out from under her pillow. Immediately recognizing it, Brigida snatched it and tore it without hesitation into tiny smithereens. As the last piece of beaten up piece of paper fell to the floor she regretted her doing… it was a nice portrait of her despite being drawn by such an asshole like Roche… And who knew? Maybe it had been the only proof that the captain had once, a bit of humanity in him?
comments, advices, constructive criticism etc. are always welcomed and appreciated!