Jealousy
A/N: And here comes Ciri. I promise, their relationship will get better! Akela is about 18.
Summary: Akela meets Ciri, and she is less than happy.
For the entirety of Akela's life, it'd always been her, Geralt, and Roach.
There had never been anyone else, and there had never needed to be anyone else—apart from the occasional addition of Yennefer and Jaskier.
So, the fact that there was someone else now…was something difficult and not totally pleasurable to wrap her head around.
Geralt knew of her feelings towards Cirilla. Though she'd never met her, she was the child bound to the man she knew as her father, and, in an odd yet wholly understandable way, she felt threatened by her. To grow up the only human in her close-knit family and then suddenly be one of two was different, and people often shy away from that which they aren't used to.
Yes, she had told Geralt that she supported him in his find for the princess, and she still did, but never once had she rebutted the fact that she would rather he leave her wherever she was and carry on with his life. Her life. The life they shared and now had to open to someone she neither knew nor cared for.
She'd met her when Geralt had taken her back to the farmhouse belonging to the man who'd helped heal him after his fight with the necrophage.
The man and his wife had cooked them dinner, and Akela had sat opposite the princess and beside Geralt, occasionally glancing up at her but not uttering a single word.
After dinner, she'd stepped outside, sat cross-legged on the wet grass, and stared up at the starless sky. It was peaceful to sit there for a while and just think, though Geralt had told her one too many times that thinking too much wasn't always good. For her, anyway.
He came out about a half hour later and told her to follow him, which she had—not that he'd given her much choice in the matter. He'd led her behind the farmhouse, her lagging behind, and when she caught up, he was leading a beautiful gray horse out from the stable. He'd held the lead rein out to her and proclaimed that it was hers.
Akela stared at him. And stared. He stared back.
"Is Roach dying?" she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.
He frowned. He blinked. "No."
"Then why?"
Confusion shone on his usually stone face. "The old man was planning to sell her," he said slowly, "but he gave her to me. Recompense for saving his life. I didn't refuse as I thought you might like her." He cocked his head after the words left his lips, eyes narrowing further as he fixed his stance. "What's this about?"
"What's 'this'?" Akela asked.
"This…" He fumbled for an answer, not used to this kind of stubbornness from her. His hands waved around until he found a word. "You!" Granted, it wasn't very good. "I've just told you this horse is yours, and you're acting as though you've found out I've arranged for you to be married."
The girl grit her jaw and released a long breath. "Are you giving it to me because there'll be no room on Roach now that Cirilla's here?"
Geralt's deepened frown was all she really needed as an answer, and she felt her heart twist in her chest.
They had never found need in a second horse. They'd always had Roach, and Roach was sturdy enough for them both. He sat in the saddle, and she sat in front of him. That was as it had always been. And yes, of course she knew they'd likely not both fit on her for much longer, but still, no matter the significance, it still broke her the smallest bit to have something which had meant so much to her ripped away.
Change.
All because of her.
After her silence, Geralt gave her a firm, knowing look. "She's lost everything, Akela," he told her, a meaningful tone to his voice. "The least I can do is offer her some comfort by riding with me. And besides—" He turned to look at the horse, who'd been silently standing beside him— "I thought you'd want your own. You've always said—"
"I don't care what I've always said," Akela interrupted.
"Jealousy will get you nowhere," Geralt said harshly, and she scoffed.
"I'm not jealous," she insisted, and he chuckled humourlessly, shaking his head.
"You're complaining about the fact I'm giving you a horse because it means you don't have to sit with me on Roach anymore." At her lack of response, he nodded to himself, both eyebrows subconsciously rising. "We've talked about this," he continued. "Nothing is going to make me care more for Ciri than you. And if for some… unimaginable reason I did, it wouldn't be over something as trivial as who sits in front of me on my horse. Now…" He stretched his arm out. "Will you take the damn reins?"
Akela turned away from him and dropped her gaze to the ground. He rolled his eyes up to the heavens. "Well, shit, Akela!" His irritation raged. "If you're that adamant, I'll give the fucking horse to the princess!"
"No!" Akela snapped her head to face him.
"You want it?"
"Yes!" she yelled back, and he thrust the reins to her.
"Then stop fucking complaining!"
"Fuck you!" She turned her back on him and came face-to-face with the horse's long, beautifully silver nose. Its dappled coat shone in the candlelight of the barn, and its eyes, a cloudy blue, seemed to be looking into hers with an amity only an animal could show. She found herself staring at them for a moment, sucking in a deep breath in an attempt to keep her tears behind that wall. She reached a hand out and pressed it to the horse's nose, and immediately she felt a comfort seep into her skin.
A moment later she felt him behind him.
"What will you call her?" he asked quietly, the irritation obviously still there but lessened somewhat.
"She's a mare?"
"Yes."
She thought for a moment, absently moving her hand and running it down the animal's neck. "Swift," she decided after a short while.
Geralt didn't respond, and she couldn't see him, but he sighed and looked despondently at the back of her head. He stretched an arm out and gently grasped her shoulder, pulling her back until she bumped into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her against him, and rested his chin on top of her head.
"Your jealousy is endearing," he said, "but unneeded."
She leaned her head back. "I know."
"Then stop worrying."
"It's not that easy."
"Hmm."
"But I'll try. I'm sorry. I still love you."
"I know you do."
