Eye of the Beholder
A/N: Here comes Yen! Akela is 12 (she has been aged back as of December 2021).
Happy New Year's Eve, everyone!
Summary: Geralt has a tendency to cover Akela's eyes whenever a naked person steps into view—as any father does—but this proves to be quite difficult when he first meets Yennefer.
"Woah."
Akela heard the word leave Geralt's mouth less than a second before she was abruptly spun around to face his chest. Eyebrows shooting up, she looked up at him with nothing less than utter confusion and opened her mouth to ask him what the hell it was that he thought he was doing. Nevertheless, her words halted before they could make their escape as she heard something that, for once, wasn't Jaskier's moans and groans of pain.
There was a shatter, but as she turned to see what was going on, Geralt's hands grasped the sides of her face and turned her back towards him. "Geralt!" she said exasperatedly. "What are—"
"Welcome… to my home!" She frowned. That was a new voice.
Geralt was staring behind the girl with an air of almost sheepishness. "You're the Mayor of Rinde?" he asked, and a moment later: "Not exactly what I was expecting."
Jaskier grabbed Geralt. "May-may—"
"Sorry, he's in a bad way," Geralt said, removing one hand from Akela's cheek to grasp the bard. Akela longed more than anything to turn and see what it was that had him acting so… un-Geralt-like. "Is there a mage that lives here?" he asked.
"Ah! The apple juice. She wants some. And she always gets… what she wants."
"I don't understand." Geralt glanced at Jaskier. "Does he want me to get him the apple juice?"
Jaskier shook his head. "I don't know," he said breathlessly.
"I don't even know who's talking," Akela told him, crossing her arms over her chest, and Geralt ignored her.
He took his hand away from her face and gave her a look, a clear indication to stay. She rolled her eyes and watched as he moved to pick up the jug of apple juice. "Shit," she breathed out when Jaskier, who was perched on the table, seemed dangerously close to falling off. Rushing forward, she grabbed his arms and pushed him back, gaining a wonderful view of an utterly naked man sleeping on a chair.
She couldn't help it. She snorted. "Ha! Look at him!"
Geralt, who'd been studying the apple juice intently, supposedly figuring out what he was meant to do with it, snapped his head up. "No, look away from him!"
Akela rolled her eyes, pushing Jaskier back up as he all but collapsed in her arms.
"Don't be a baby."
"Don't be impertinent." He took the jug and rounded the table. "Help me with Jaskier."
"Oh my—"
"The fuck?"
Akela snorted yet again. This room was… well. It was Geralt's current nightmare, she supposed, if his actions in the previous room with the one naked man had anything to tell for it.
Needless to say, seconds after the door had opened to reveal what she could only describe as a whore house, Geralt was giving her orders.
"Turn this way," he said, reaching across Jaskier to grab her from where she was keeping the bard up on his other side. He all but yanked her over to him, causing her to yelp. "Oh, fuck, no, the other way," he said, turning her again. She immediately came face-to-face with a couple who were… she didn't even want to know what they were doing. "They're fucking everywhere," he ground out, the irony of the sentence escaping him as he spun her once again. She was getting dizzy, and after a short while he seemingly gave up. "Just keep your damn eyes closed."
Akela glared, shoving herself away from him. "Geralt, I'm twelve, not two. And they're just breasts. I have them!"
He gladly returned the glare before leaning down to whisper harshly. "And men's… penises. Last I remember, you don't have any of those."
"I've seen them, though. It isn't that big of a deal." When he didn't respond, she glanced up to see both him and Jaskier staring at her wide-eyed, as though she'd just admitted a great sin. Oh, gods.
"I'm sorry, what?" the witcher asked, jaw clenched. Jaskier's cheeks were puffed up like a hamster's, and yet Akela was still seeing that 'did I just hear you right?' look. She opened her mouth to respond, but a distinct cough interrupted her, and the three of them turned to face the other end of the room.
A beautiful, dark-haired woman was sat there. A mask covered her face, but Akela could feel the piercing sting of those violet eyes, almost glowing as though they were two flames in the dying embers of a once seething fire. Geralt unwrapped Jaskier's arm from around his shoulders and lowering him to sit among a few women.
"You can't just leave him there!" Akela protested, but he grasped her wrist and pulled her along with him, stopping in front of the woman.
"You must be the mage." He lifted the jug slightly. "I, uh, bought you apple juice."
The mage ignored his second sentence, simply turning her head to gaze at him. "Yennefer of Vengerberg."
"Hm. Do you mind toning this down a bit?"
"I'm sorry?"
"These… people. Can they not put some clothes on?"
"Why? Afraid?"
He looked at her before nodding his head towards Akela. "As she said: she's twelve."
The mage's eyes flicked to the girl's just in time to see her roll them, and a hint of a smile flit across her lips. "Is he always like this?" she asked.
"You have no idea," Akela told her. Yennefer's smile grew and Akela's followed not long after, while Geralt stayed as he was. He attempted to ignore the fact that they were speaking as though he wasn't there.
Yennefer looked at him, tilting her head up a little assertively. "She may be a child, Geralt of Rivia, but she isn't naïve."
He rose an eyebrow. "You know my name."
"I know more than your name." A lilting smile appeared on her lips. "Your heartbeat. It's extraordinarily slow. You're a mutant. A witcher. Geralt of Rivia. The famous White Wolf. I thought you'd have fangs or horns or something."
Geralt blinked, unmoving. "I had them filed down," he said stonily. "They used to scare the baby." He glanced around for Akela but did a double take when he realised she was no longer beside him. Spinning on his heel, his amber eyes bulged when they caught sight of her by Jaskier, attempting to pry the bard away from a woman who was obviously getting far too handsy for her liking.
The witcher turned back to Yennefer. "Stop this," he ordered, jaw clenching.
Yennefer's dark eyebrows rose. "A witcher, brought to absolute panic by the mere sight of his little girl surrounded by nakedness." She absently shrugged. "How quaint. You have to see some things to believe them."
Geralt let loose a growl. "Stop this or I'll throw your damn apple juice out the fucking window!" He lifted the jug for emphasis.
Amusement swirled in her eyes. "I have to admit… this is the most fun I've had in a long time." Despite herself, she turned to the people in the room to call out the order. "Ragamuffin."
The moment the word left her mouth, the kissing and sex and whatever the fuck else was happening in the room that Geralt's mind couldn't quite process stopped, and the people dispersed, moving towards the door in the back. Jaskier collapsed against Akela, and she sighed in relief.
"Thank you," Geralt said sincerely, and Yennefer nodded, stepping down.
"Well, I just had to do it after you threatened my apple juice," she said, and Geralt breathed a soft laugh, handing her the jug.
"I apologise."
"I respect a man who does what he does for his child." At this, she turned her attention to both Akela and Jaskier, sat against each other on the floor behind Geralt. "Your friend. What ails him?"
"He was attacked by a djinn," Geralt told her. "He needs immediate attention."
"A djinn?"
"Whatever's wrong with him, it's spreading. Fix it, and I'll pay you," he said. "Whatever the price."
Yennefer stared at him before moving past him. "You'll have to do better than juice." She knelt down beside Akela, who watched with avid curiosity as she hovered her hand over him, magic pouring from her fingertips. "I've put him in a deep healing sleep," she told the girl as her curiosity turned to concern when his eyes shut immediately after she withdrew her arm. She looked up at her a moment later and leaned forward. "Tell him of that time," she whispered, "I'd like to see his reaction."
Akela blinked. "How do you… you can read my mind?"
"Some thoughts." She shrugged absently and Akela's eyes brightened. She supposed it wasn't too far off Geralt. His cryptic ability to tell what she was thinking without an ounce of his magic or otherwise was almost scary.
"What time?" Geralt asked.
Akela grinned at Yennefer. "The time I saw a man's—"
"Fuck—alright." He stopped her, stretching out a hand and shaking his head. "Tell me, please. I need to know who to kill."
The mage bit her bottom lip, but Geralt didn't notice, intently focused on his child. "Do you remember the time in Temeria that you left me, asleep, in our room at the tavern before going off with some woman for a drink?"
His eyes narrowed.
"And then when you moved to her room—probably-no, definitely drunk—you accidentally walked into ours instead?"
His eyes widened. "I—"
"I wasn't asleep. And you—"
"Stop."
"—were very naked."
If Jaskier were awake, he most certainly would have collapsed in a pile of hysteria on the floor. Alas, he wasn't, and so the only sounds in the room were Geralt's groans of absolute agony, Akela's giggles, and Yennefer's light chuckles.
"Willing to kill yourself, Geralt of Rivia?" she asked, turning to glance over her shoulder.
Geralt growled, shoving past them both and hauling Jaskier up in his arms to head towards the door. "Just tell me where to put him."
Both Akela and Yennefer looked at each other. "I suppose that means," the mage said, leaning in, "that you shouldn't tell him of the other time."
"Probably not."
