Hello everybody

I know it's been a while since I posted anything here, I'm still invested with my PhD, but I couldn't get this story idea out of my head.

This is because I really missed Iorveth in The Witcher 3, it's a slightly alternative timeline

As always I apologize in advance for eventual spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my native language, but I write to improve, so feel free to complain ;)

Summary: So, who else missed Iorveth in The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt? I wrote a small story to kind of include him into the plot, but it all starts with Roche getting captured by the Redanians.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of The Witcher, and the characters are sadly not mine

Rating: The story is rated T, there will be a lot of swearing and violence

Chapter 1

He was startled from his light slumber by the now familiar sound of metal on metal at the door. As he looked up, he saw two of the Redanian prison guards enter in the unsteady light of the torches, lead by the treacherous sorceress. It was still a riddle for him how a sorceress would ally herself with Radovid and his witch hunters, but maybe desperate times called for desperate measures… who was he kidding, the sorceress was a sadistic bitch, he always saw her revel in the pain of her imprisoned fellow sisters.

Roche brought himself into a more upright position, his wrists that were chained to the wall were finally relieved when he put his weight back on his feet. It hurt. He hurt. Thrice damned Redanians and witch hunters! He had been in this dark hellhole for what he assumed five days, and apart from being chained to the wall and occasionally being brought to an adjoining room for torture sessions, nothing happened. Hell, the witch hunters knew him badly when they thought he would betray his Temerian commando and give away their hideout.

Well, he also had to admit that he was slowly dulling out, kind of accepting that there was no chance of escape for him. This prison was too damn well secured, and they were still cautions with him. He was barely able to stand, but they still chained his hands to the wall over his head. Even when they took him for another session of torture, his hands were always secured. He would most likely die in this cursed hellhole, or Radovid would finally lose his patience and have him hanged. The only thing keeping him up was his iron will to not die as a traitor. He had been called many bad names, many of them true, during his life, but a traitor to his men was something he would never be.

He startled again when he realized that the sorceress wasn't stopping in front of Margarita's cell but made her way to the left aiming for him. She had never even changed a word with him, had something changed? When he turned his head to look at her he put a strain on the nasty cut on his shoulder and hissed in pain. This was one of the only cuts he didn't receive during his time in the dungeon but before, at his arrest. It wasn't healing well, but considering the dirt all around the dungeon, it was a miracle that he wasn't already a rotting corpse that had died of an infection.

He watched the sorceress, she was attractive, like all sorceresses, brown locks surrounding a finely shaped face. She never came over to him, he didn't even know her name, but now she strode towards his cell. Well, she proceeded to the cell to his left. Which was strange, because it was empty – since yesterday, before there had been a poor halfling that had been taken to burn on some made up charges – well, his crime was obviously belonging to the wrong species, but the poor lad was obviously much too spineless to have anything to do with a rebellion.

The guards opened the cell door, and Roche was seriously wondering what the sorceress wanted in the cell. They didn't have a prisoner with them either, so it made no sense at all. His eyes never wavered from the sorceress, but she pointedly ignored him and produced something from a pouch she wore around her slim waist. Roche couldn't see too much in the dim torchlight, but it looked like a small figurine. He huffed. Sorceresses! Seemed like she had cracked and was going crazy.

She heard him and sent him a partly annoyed and partly calm look, said nothing and went back to her task. She stood back up and began some kind of enchantment, muttering words unknown to him and weaving her arms. The torches flared up and jittered strongly. The two guards stepped back from the sorceress, obviously feeling unwell around the disreputable magic the witch was using.

She finished with a loud shout and Roche's eyes went absurdly big when he suddenly saw a whole grown body lie in the cell next to his. It still made his flesh crawl what sorceresses were able to do. The damn wench had just produced a body out of thin air – or more likely, now that he thought about it, out of the small figurine – and she didn't even look exhausted.

Roche's gaze went back to the body. He was beginning to wonder if he was dead when he heard a sharp intake of breath, followed by an agonized roar. Roche knew that sound. Very well. It was unfiltered and pure agony, he had not seldom been the cause for such a sound. When he heard it, he knew that he had been successful and could finally begin with the important questions. However, in this situation, he despised it. Oh, how he wished to tear such a scream from his captors. But not from his now fellow prisoner.

Whatever the witch had done to him, it must hurt like hell, because the new prisoner still tried to supress his roars into pained snarls. It looked like every intake of breath worsened the pain and he was oblivious to everything around him. He had been in this state for around five minutes now, and at this level of pain it must seem like an eternity. Roche watched, still shocked by the sudden apparition, as the sorceress finally signalled one of the guards, a small smirk on her face when the man put the prisoner's hands in shackles and the action tore a new scream from the poor lad.

The guard stepped back and Roche saw that the prisoner now had his face towards him. He was still entwined in his pain and unresponsive, but Roche would recognize this face anywhere. Hell, he probably knew this face, partly concealed by a bandana, better than any of his lovers' faces.

"The fuck…" he could only murmur when he realized that the guy still writhing in pain in the cell next to him was fucking Iorveth. His damned archenemy Iorveth.

His face snapped back to the sorceress when she let out a laugh.

"I was wondering when you would realize. Took you long enough," when he didn't respond, because honestly, he was still in shock, she continued "I knew the irony of this situation would not be wasted on you"

Roche finally gathered some of his wits back. He huffed.

"Yeah, very funny, never had such a good time in the last five days", he was proud that his voice sounded relatively strong. "will he stay like this?"

Roche himself wasn't sure why he asked this question. Before he knew it was Iorveth he felt pity for the guy, but now… he wasn't sure. It was strange finding the so proud and stoic elf in such a condition, and although he had wished for his death more than a thousand times, what he saw was – if nothing else – highly disconcerting. Really, Iorveth, the proudest Aenh Seidhe that he knew was whimpering on the prison floor. It just wasn't right.

He was brought out of his musings when the sorceress spoke again.

"Oh, he will recover. Most likely. Artefact decompression is a complicated spell, but if he doesn't cough up blood until the morning, he should be fine-" she made a pause and looked pointedly at him and Margarita, currently the only other occupants of the many cells "-for the time being. Radovid wants to know the hideouts of the Scoia'tael and the Nonhumans they're hiding, so…" she drawled off, and Roche knew what that meant. He was in for the same treatment as him. Just lovely. They would be tortured in turns.

The guards meanwhile finished locking the cell door and the trio made its leave. Roche still had thousand questions. How had they gotten their hands on Iorveth? Why did the witch turn him into a statue? And why the fuck did anyone think it was a good idea to imprison the thrice-damned elf next to him?

But he knew he wouldn't get any answers. When he heard the heavy door lock again, he gazed back to Iorveth. His left foot protested when he put too much weight on it, but he ignored it. The elf had stopped growning and was now breathing flatly, a deep crease between his eyebrows indicating that he still was in severe pain.

Well, Roche had been known for being a bastard, he wouldn't stop now.

"Iorveth" he simply said the name. The elf stirred, he clearly began to come to, and perceive his surroundings again.

He turned his head towards Roche, and he could see that he had trouble with bringing his one eye into the right position to see his fellow prisoner.

"Que'ss…" Iorveths voice sounded raw, his eye was now looking at Roche, but clearly not recognizing him yet. No surprise, Roche remembered that he had been stripped of his heavy armour and his chaperon, he was only clad in his trousers and a light undershirt, his dirty hair stuck to his scalp.

After some seconds Iorveth finally recognized who he was imprisoned with, considering the impressive stream of elven curses falling from his lips. Impressive because even Roche, as the target of many elven curses, didn't know some of them.

"Ysgarthiad, Roche… what in d'yaebl's name are you doing here?" Roche noted with a pang of amusement the surprise and shock that fought over dominance in the elf's voice, however, it was still laced with pain.

"Same as you, I guess…", that earned him only a huff from the elf, but he was getting slightly better, at least he managed to crawl towards the stone wall and lean against it with a sigh. Roche had to strain his neck to keep an eye on him, and for Iorveth it was equally uncomfortable since Roche was to his right and he had to turn his head at an awkward angle to keep him in sight of his healthy left eye.

"How did they...?", Iorveth asked, and Roche was not sure if he should answer him. All in all, Iorveth was still his enemy. But he would most likely die a truly unpleasant death right next to him, and it was not really a secret what happened to him. At least it would prove a small distraction. So, he began to recount

AN: So, what do you think? I was not a hundred percent sure if Iorveths and Roches reactions seem realistic, but it's a really extreme situation. Please leave a review, they always help me to get better and stay motivated :)