Sex and Apologies

A/N: A twist on Jaskier finding Geralt and Yennefer alive and having sex in episode 5.

This is fluffier than it lets on, don't worry. Akela is 12 (she has been aged back as of December 2021).


Summary: After the djinn causes the building to fall around Geralt and Yennefer, Akela believes her guardian to be dead. He is, of course, very much alive, and she's far from happy.


Akela didn't quite know what to think as she watched the top of the building tumble down in front of her.

The building.

The building Geralt was inside.

One part of her wanted to collapse to the ground and cry until there was no water left inside her and she shrivelled up like a prune—if that was at all how crying worked. Somehow, she doubted it—and another part wanted to perch her hands on her hips and simply stare at the ruins expectantly, waiting none-too patiently for him to push himself out from under the rubble, brush off the dirt, pat down his hair, and stroll out through the broken door as though it had been nothing.

And yet another part—a small part, yet a part all the same—ached for her to rush up to the unsteady building and search for him. For his body. Because he was a witcher, yes, but he was not immortal, and gods did she know it.

For now, she stayed stone-still, arms hanging by her side, heart racing a mile a minute and eyes as wide as anything. Jaskier, meanwhile, seemed to already be pushing himself into a frenzy, which really shouldn't have been surprising.

But she couldn't find herself caring.

He was in there.

The man who had raised her, protected her, loved her, could be lying underneath the bricks and wreckage, dead, and she didn't know.

She knew she should have stopped him. Somehow. He had raced back inside that building after firmly telling her to stay put to save a woman he had no cause to save. She wished it made some semblance of sense to her, but it didn't. Yes, Yennefer had saved Jaskier, and yes, she had been kind to her, but Akela would forsake all of that if only to have Geralt alive and well and by her side.

"This can't be happening," she just about heard Jaskier breathe out beside her. "This can't be happening."

"She could not have survived it," Chireadan said, staring up at the building.

If her current thoughts were any less insane, Akela might have screamed at him. She might have thrown herself at him, her hands around his throat, and yelled at him that she didn't matter! That Geralt was in there too and he could not have survived it either!

But her thoughts were erratic. They flew around her brain like leaves in a wild wind, colliding into one another, bringing unwanted tears to her eyes as she simply continued to stare.

"Why did Geralt go in there? It doesn't make any sense," Jaskier spoke up again, voice breaking. "What, to save a mad fucking witch? Why?"

She thought he may have directed that question at her, but she couldn't see, nor did she care.

Chireadan walked forward. "Because she was magnificent!"

Jaskier fell to his knees. "What are we supposed to do now, hm? It wasn't supposed to go this way." Akela clenched her fists and turned her gaze to her boots. "I'm gonna write you the best song, so that everyone remembers who you were… what we did… everything we saw. And I will sing it for the rest of my days."

A tear fell to the ground, and once she saw that, she could no longer hold back the rest. She desperately bit her lip.

"He always said I had the most wonderful singing voice."

She would have laughed. Hell, she wanted to laugh. Perhaps he wanted her to laugh, too. Maybe that had been its purpose.

Jaskier stood to his feet at her sniffle and a moment later she was engulfed in his arms. She clutched at his bloody shirt and buried her head in his chest. "Akela, oh, Akela," he soothed, rubbing his hand along her back. "I swear to you, I will look after you. I'll protect you. I won't let anything happen to you." His words only made her tears come swifter. They ran down her cheeks and soaked his shirt.

That wasn't enough. As much as she loved him, Jaskier wasn't enough.

"Jaskier! Akela!" Akela turned her head enough to see Chireadan rush up to the both of them. He took the girl from Jaskier's arms and held her shoulders tightly, a teary smile on his lips. "They're alive."

Akela snapped her head to face Jaskier. They stared at each other.

"Bollocks," the bard spat out.

Akela quickly wrenched herself from Chireadan's hold and raced to the side of the building he had come from. Jaskier was following her—albeit at a smaller pace—but she couldn't care. Her thoughts were solely on her witcher.

A broken glass window still stood in the side of the crumbling wall. Peering through, she was relieved to see him. He was moving about as though… oh.

Her eyes widened and she stepped away. Geralt and Yennefer—at least she thought it was Yennefer. Who else could it be?—were having sex. On the floor of a building which could, quite frankly, collapse and bury them under rubble at any time. He hadn't thought about Akela at all, had he? Her or Jaskier. He'd crashed to the floor, not spared at least a tiny portion of his idiotic brain to think about how she might believe him to be dead, and immediately gotten it on with the woman he'd, for some reason or another, decided was suddenly worth risking his life over.

Jaskier ran up to the window and stood for a few seconds in silence.

"Oh, they're alive," he breathed out. Then a moment later. "They're really alive! Whoo…"

Quite suddenly, a feeling of anger swelled up inside Akela, and she clenched her fists for an entirely different reason.

He. Was. Fucking. Alive.

Bending down, she grabbed up a large rock, briskly strode forward, shoved a protesting Jaskier out of the way, and launched the rock to further break the window. It shattered, alerting Geralt and Yennefer and making the former shoot around, widen his eyes, and shove it back in before she jumped through the glass and hurled herself towards him like a shrieking banshee.

"Akela!" he yelled as she came down on him, sitting on top of him and repeatedly punching at his chest.

"Fuck you!" she screamed, angry tears in her eyes.

"Fucking hell!" Geralt grabbed at her hands, holding them even as she tried her very hardest to wrench them away from him and instead resorted to kicking him the best she could while sitting atop him.

"I thought you were dead!" She didn't notice Yennefer delicately lifting her eyebrows and sitting back, obviously preferring to stay out of… whatever this was.

At her words, Geralt grinned, although slightly nervously, and his amber eyes brightened. "Oh, come on," he said. "Did you really think one building could kill me?"

Akela was utterly silent for a moment, mouth agape and eyes positively frightening. A moment later, she grit her teeth and twisted her hands from his hold with one giant pull, whacking him with new-found vigour. "Nowis not the time for your vanity, Geralt!" she screeched. "For five minutes—the longest five minutes of my life—I thought you were dead! Do you know how horrible that was? I thought you'd left me with Jaskier for a fucking guardian!"

Jaskier's jaw opened wide from where he was standing a little awkwardly behind her next to Chireadan. "Uh, sorry, did—"

Yennefer shot him a look and he shut his mouth.

Geralt stared at Akela for a moment longer, taking the hits and punches. A particularly hard one hit his shoulder and he yelped before grasping her hands once more, swiftly turning her over and pinning her under him. He was certain she'd have tried to strangle him with his medallion soon after if he hadn't stopped her.

"Alright, alright," he relented, dropping a knee to press her madly kicking legs to the ground. "When did you get so strong? Enough, Akela." He noticed her curl her hand into a shape and hummed in amusement. She was attempting to create a witcher sign—aard, probably. If done right by a witcher, it would knock him a good few feet away and leave him winded. If done right by Akela, he would fall flat on his back and give her enough time to gain the upper hand. The witchers had only began teaching her signs, though. Her determination was mighty, but she wouldn't get it right for a long while. Still a good story to tell once they returned to Kaer Morhen.

"Fuck you," she spat at him.

"Yeah, I know. Stop fucking cursing." He turned his head to Yennefer and offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry about this."

Yennefer shrugged and stood to her feet, her own smile pulling at her lips. "I think it might be her you should be apologising to."

He turned back to Akela, taking in her pinched expression and clenched jaw. He sighed. Alright. Perhaps he should have informed his twelve-year-old that he was still alive before having sex. That was a bit… inconsiderate of him.

Transferring her hands into one of his, he took his free one and gently moved a few strands of tousled hair from her red face, so young, so afraid, unlike the fearlessness he usually saw. Despite her obvious anger, he saw the tension in her entire body loosen at his touch. "Akela, I'm sorry," he said sincerely. "Forgive me. I should have come to you first."

Chest still heaving, Akela swallowed thickly and blinked, clearing her vision enough to look straight at him. "I really did think you were dead," she squeaked after a while, and he sighed and shook his head, releasing her hands in favour of lifting her up and to his chest. He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her shoulder, feeling her squeeze him tightly. And audience be damned, he pressed a kiss to her ear and said, as softly as anything, "I would never leave you so easily."

Akela released a breath of relief into his hair and shut her eyes.

"You know, I thought you were dead, too."

"Oh, go cry to your lute, Jaskier."