A/N: Akela is 16.

Summary: Five times Geralt hated the bard's song, and the one time he didn't.

1)

"Toss a coin to your Witcher!"

Geralt of Rivia instantly shot up in his makeshift bed on the forest floor, grappling for the sword by his side and blinking his wide, tired eyes as they darted around and searched for any sign of danger. His wild hair, freed from its band in the night, was sticking up in awkward angles, and he looked positively hilarious, so nobody could really fault Akela for bursting into laughter the moment he jolted awake.

He snapped his head around as her laughter reached his ears.

"What the fuck, Akela?" His voice was dripping with exhaustion, still slightly slurred from sleep, and she snorted.

"Whahat?"

"Why do you feel the need to shout in my ear?" Her laughter increased and he sighed, reaching his hands up to rub at his eyes. Now he was sure there was no cause for concern – unless that concern was for his rapidly beating heart – he relinquished his weak hold on the hilt of his sword and let out a yawn.

"I was just singing," Akela informed him with a shrug and a smile before turning to walk back to her bed. Geralt watched after her for a moment, eyes drooping with sleep, before he rolled them and pushed his blanket off. The sun was beginning to rise, birds starting to tweet in the canopies of autumn leaves and branches above, a warm breeze ambling silently through the air.

"I pity the ears of those who have to listen to you singing," he said with a groan as he stood to his feet and stretched.

"It's the bard's song," Akela told him, "I don't know why you're so unappreciative. He made it specially for you." She rolled up her blanket and stuffed it in her pack. It was a beautiful morning, perfect for going in the direction to nowhere. People must have thought her mad for actually enjoying her life. On the road. The best place to be. No home to care for, not many possessions to love. Just a person. And a horse.

"I didn't ask for it," Geralt grumbled back.

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask to travel with you, but here I am." He shot her a look from where he was tacking up Roach.

"Would you like me to dump you back in the basket I found you in?" Akela childishly stuck her tongue out in his direction, and he rolled his eyes with a shake of his head. It was good that the both of them were entirely too much like each other to feel very bothered by the – mostly dark – jokes and insults constantly spurting from their mouths. The prospect of her abandonment didn't really hit home with her. She's been left to the creatures of the woods, her parents most definitely expecting – and hoping – that some dark monster would come across her basket for a tasty meal, and Geralt had found her during one of his hunts. What more was there to say? If she ever met her parents, she was quite sure she wouldn't give a damn, but either way they would be lucky if Geralt left them alive. Quite frankly, she wouldn't have wanted them to keep her, anyway. Life with her Witcher was a life worth living.

"Idiot," she said moodily, attaching her pack to Roach's saddle.

Geralt shoved her. "Pain in my ass."

2)

"To the right. Now, left. And block!" The clang of metal hitting metal echoed around the forest as Akela hit her sword against Geralt's. He nodded and stepped back. "Good."

Training. There was nothing both better and worse than training. She loved it, because it gave her something to do, and the sword was a joy to learn, but she hated it… because Geralt was her teacher.

She loved him. She really did. But he was a Witcher. And she… wasn't. He fought with one hand behind his back, completely effortlessly, and while Akela knew she wasn't a bad swordfighter, and she knew she was still only learning, he definitely was something to live up to. Of course, she never would live up to his fighting abilities, considering he wasn't even human, but she hoped someday she'd at least be a fair match for him.

Not that she needed to be. Witcher hunts were strictly forbidden to her.

"And again." Breathing heavily, the teen got back into position and waited for him to make his attack. The two of them danced around the small clearing he'd chosen for her impromptu training session, Roach watching occasionally from her quiet grazing spot tied to a tree. After a short while, Geralt blocked her sword with his own and, somehow, hit it from her hands. "Stop doing that," he said, pointing his weapon at her.

She frowned. "Doing what? You're the one who hit my sword away from me!"

"Humming."

Humming? "I wasn't humming."

Geralt narrowed his eyes. "Oh, please accept my apologies. It must have been Roach."

Glaring at him, Akela moved to pick up her sword. "I didn't realise I was."

"It's that damn song."

"What song?"

"The boy's."

Her eyes widened, brows rising in realisation, and she grinned. "Ah! I was humming that! I can't get it out of my head."

"I noticed," Geralt deadpanned. "Curse him, wherever he is," he said a little under his breath, but Akela still heard it and shook her head with a smile. For a reserved man, he definitely was impatient, especially when it came to that song. Which was why she loved to annoy him so much with it.

"Stop humming," he told her, clearly gritting his teeth.

She shrugged. "I can't help it. It's just so good! You love it, really, don't you? Toss a coin to your Witcher! O' Valley of Plenty!"

What was the quickest way to die in a forest?

3)

Geralt flinched as something hit the back of his head. He reached a hand around to rub it and glanced up, wondering briefly if a chestnut or something had fallen from a tree. That thought was swiftly disintegrated when he was hit again, though this time it was closer to the base of his neck.

He narrowed his eyes and slowed his pace slightly, focusing for a moment on the smallest of sounds. Less than a second later, he stopped abruptly, halting Roach next to him, and spun around, just in time to see Akela quickly come to a standstill, arm raised in the air, looking utterly sheepish. He gave her a look and sighed. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked with an air of absolute firmness.

Akela grinned and uncurled her raised fist, showing him what she'd been holding. "Tossing a coin to my Witcher. What does it look like?"

His impassive face immediately turned stony. Damn that fucking bard. "More like tossing several coins at your Witcher," he corrected her. "And if you're not careful, I'll be tossing an Akela in the river."

With that, he rose both eyebrows until she lowered her hand. He watched her stuff the coins in her pocket before nodding once and turning back around, walking on with Roach plodding beside him. The both of them were on their way to a place they could spend the night indoors for a change, but they'd been walking since the early morning with the nearest village still an hour or so away. Of course, he was more than used to long treks through the wilderness, and so was Akela, but when he wasn't in the mood for games during the journey, she got bored, and when she got bored, he wanted to dig a hole, stick his head in it and cover it back up once again.

The peaceful silence of the mid-afternoon was exactly what he needed, and yet his… darling little girl seemed to make consistently forgetting that small fact a hobby.

As was proved when he felt something hit the back of his head once again. Like a snake after a mouse, he snapped his hand up and around, grabbing the coin before it could reach the floor. His ears picked up a small girlish laugh, and when he turned around, Akela squeaked and raced off into the trees. He watched her go for a moment, one dark brow raised, before he briskly swung himself up into Roach's saddle and steered her off in the direction the girl had raced to. "So, Roach," he said, "where do you suppose the nearest river is, hm?"

4)

The mattress bounced as Akela fell stomach-first onto the blankets and pillows, absolutely revelling in it. After weeks of sleeping on the hard, cold ground with no warmth at all, unless she curled up to Geralt's side as much as she could, she'd could safely call this heaven. Even then, nothing could beat the luxury of a nice, cozy bed in an inn.

Sitting up, she scooted back against the headboard and picked up the book she placed on the small wooden bedside table earlier. She'd been taught to read from a young age, but of course a proper education had never been an option so it was still often difficult for her to do so. Nevertheless, she enjoyed it all the same, and it was something to pass the time.

She glanced up when Geralt walked through the door, closing and locking it behind him. He was dressed in a loose tunic and trousers and holding his boots in his hand, tossing his old clothes at the foot of the bed as he walked in further and collapsed, just as Akela had, on the warm mattress.

A grin made its way onto her lips. "Don't wake me up early tomorrow," she told him.

He grunted, eyes shut. "Don't wake me up early tomorrow." Akela returned her eyes to her book and read a few more lines before he moved, crawling up the bed and shuffling under the covers, head sinking into the plush cushions. The teen looked over at him and put her book down, leaning over to blow out the candle. The last hunt he'd done had been only the previous week, and this was bound to be the first comfortable night's sleep in a while, so she wanted him to have the perfect chance for that.

Except maybe not, if his tossing and turning was anything to go by. After about ten minutes, Akela turned her head to look at him in the dark. "Can't you sleep?" she asked.

He hummed.

"But it's such a warm bed!"

Another hum.

"No cold."

"Mm."

"No spiders crawling over you."

"Mm."

"No rocks digging into your back."

"Mmmm."

She smiled. Alright. Perhaps it had been obvious.

Geralt of Rivia had become so used to sleeping on the ground that a bed was simply too comfortable for him. It had happened before. He got accustomed to the coldness and the spiders and the rocks, and though he loved a nice mattress just as much as her, his body missed his forest bed. Quite endearing, really.

Akela turned onto her side to face him. "Do you want me to sing you a lullaby?"

He snapped his head around to look over at her and glared. It was, of course, an answer in itself, but she couldn't resist. She cleared her throat. "When a humble bard, graced a ride along-"

He groaned, reaching his hands up to drag down his face.

"-with Geralt ooof Rivia, along came this soooongAHH!" A terse shriek left her lips as she felt his cold foot against her leg, and in her surprise, she tumbled out of the bed, landing on her back on the wooden floor. Despite the sudden soreness, she continued. "From when the White Wolf fought, a silver-tongued devil, his army of elves, at his hooves did theeey revel!"

Geralt sat up. "How do you even remember that fucking song?"

"It's a good song!" Akela told him. "Do you want me to continue?"

"No. Get back in bed or I'll make you sleep on the floor."

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep on the floor?" He looked at her the moment she stood to her feet and sat at the edge of the bed, gazing at him with a knowing glint in her eye. A sigh of defeat left him not a second later and he lay back down, completely silent. Akela smiled briefly. "Anything I can do to help?"

He raised his arms immediately, and with a breathy laugh she instantaneously made her way over to him, ducking under the covers and cuddling up to his side. Her head was tucked under his left arm and her own was slung across his chest. Exactly as it had been since she was a baby, though back then she wasn't big enough to fit securely in his arm and had more or less been draped across his chest like a sleeping puppy every night. Never once had he complained, obviously.

"Night, Geralt."

"Mm."

5)

Geralt always chose to sit in the shadiest corners of taverns. It was all very ominous, but, really, he just wanted to keep himself away from prying eyes and those who might choose to disrupt his peaceful evening because they caught a glimpse of his white hair. Akela couldn't fault that. People were cruel.

"Where to after here, then?" she asked him. They were sat in the lit part of the booth, Geralt beside Akela in the din. He lifted his ale and took a drink before replying.

"West."

"Anything good in the West?"

Even in the dark she could see his amber eyes turn to look at her. "I've heard they take sixteen-year-old girls off your hands for free."

"Oh, you're absolutely hilarious, you are." She kicked his leg under the table, but there was still a smile on her lips, and on his, too, if his soft chuckle was anything to go by. He was quick to sink back into the shadows, however, and though she was confused at first, the voice from behind her swiftly answered her questions.

"Uh, excuse me?"

Akela turned, coming to face a young-looking woman holding a small child's hand. She was smiling, though it was clearly a nervous smile. Reciprocating it, the teen looked up at her expectantly. "Yes?"

"Would you mind watching my child for just a moment? I promise I won't be long, I- I just need-"

"I don't mind!" Akela said, honestly happy to have a distraction from the loud noise of the tavern around her. The woman's smile widened, and she nodded. For a brief moment, her eyes strayed behind her, and that worried glint returned to her face.

"Is that alright, Sir?" she asked. "If you and your daughter could just watch her… I don't trust anyone here, but you have a child yourself, so I thought…"

Geralt waved a hand dismissively. "Don't be long," he said, and she nodded briskly, giving Akel her little girl's hand before running off outside.

Akela smiled at the child. She was a pretty thing with bight green eyes and honey yellow hair which fell in curls at her shoulders. She pat the seat next to her and the child clambered up with Akela's help. "Hello," Akela said to her, and she smiled, showing the few gaps in her teeth. "What's your name?"

"I'm Kallie."

"Hello, Kallie. My name's Akela. And he-" She moved to point behind her but thought better of it. People would likely know his name. "Never mind him. His moodiness may start to rub off on you, and we don't want that," she said in an almost hushed whisper, leaning her head down. Kallie giggled, and Akela grinned widely when she felt Geralt kick her under the table.

"Hey," she said after a thought, "would you like to learn a song?"

The cil nodded eagerly. "I love songs! Mama teaches me loads!"

"Oh, well, this one is the greatest song of all time! And you must teach it to everyone you know, alright?"

"Promise!"

Akela nodded. "Okay. It starts like this… are you ready?" Kallie's eyes were alight like fireflies, and the teen breathed a laugh before starting. "When a humble bard-"

"Don't you dare."

6)

Akela hissed as cold hands touched her aching side.

Geralt sighed. "Sorry." He moved her tunic up and continued to carefully turn her, slowing his movements whenever she flinched. The bandage was white, at least. The last couple times he'd checked they'd been tinged red, so it was definitely a nice change, though he was still desperate to reach the village soon so a proper physician could look her over.

Satisfied, he pulled her tunic down again and turned her on her back, moving to sit cross-legged – very Witcher-like, he knew – next to her where she was lying on all the blankets her had in the packs. Amber eyes locked onto blue. "Of all the monsters out there, you had to be scratched by a wolf, didn't you?"

Akela sent him a glare, though the slight fever she was suffering through made it difficult to look at all threatening. One corner of his lips rose in fondness and he reached out a hand to brush a few stray strands of hair from her warm face. Sighing, Akela grasped it with both of here and held it by her chest. Geralt didn't try to move it. Instead, he leaned over to grab up the waterskin a little way next to him. "Drink?" he asked, and Akela nodded, gulping down the cool liquid when he held it to her lips. He took a small sip after her before tossing it to the side.

A breeze flew past the both of them and he leaned over to pull the girl's blanket up to her chin. "Will you sing to me?" she asked quietly, eyes closed.

"No."

One eye drearily opened. So stony-faced, and yet his hand was still squeezing hers, his thumb absently stroking the back. "Please? I'm sick."

Nothing changed. "You'll live."

"Still doesn't make me feel any less crap." He sighed audibly, considering her for a moment, before shaking his head in defeat. She smiled and shut her eye again, waiting.

The White Wolf didn't sing. He was emotionless, after all, wasn't he? What emotionless person sang? That was what the songs and tales said of him, anyway. But, of course, none of their creators were Akela. Geralt had sang to her as a baby; a last resort to stop her from crying before he gave up and passed her off to the first person he saw who looked more able to raise a child than him. He hadn't quite expected it to work, but the moment his desperate words turned to song, her wails halted, bright baby eyes staring up at him with tears still clinging to her long lashes, mouth open slightly as she simply listened.

Nothing really had changed. He had a beautiful voice that lulled her to sleep whenever he was in the mood to comply with her wishes to hear him.

He closed his own eyes and tilted his head up.

"Toss a coin to your Witcher, O' Valley of Plenty, O' Valley of Plenty, O'… Toss a coin to your Witcher, a friend of humanity…"

It was dulcet. Nothing like the bard's voice. A melody which flew with the wind and scattered in the velvet sky as stars.

Akela smiled, already half asleep. "Thought you hated that song."

Geralt opened his eyes and looked at her. "I do," he said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to her forehead, "but if it makes you feel better, I'll sing it until the end of my days."