Chapter Text
Aeik isn’t actually sure Geralt knows he’s there yet. He seems entirely focused on the task of brushing Roach down, hands moving in slow, repetitive strokes along the mare’s back. Roach looks half asleep.
Seeing any witcher in the stable with their horse isn’t much of a big deal. Heck, Aeik came down to give Apple a good brushing, and perhaps a walk through one of the pastures. Being the middle of winter, the horses don’t get out much. Too much snow.
Anyway. The thing isn’t that Geralt is in the stables, brushing his horse. The thing is that he keeps pausing the brushing to scratch her ears, or kiss her nose. And he keeps talking to her in a low murmur. Aeik can’t make out all the words, but it seems to be mostly praise, spoken in a near baby voice. Or as close to one as Geralt can get, anyway.
It’s adorable!
Roach snorts and bumps Geralt’s shoulder with her head. Geralt snorts back at her, a tiny smile on his face, and takes a piece of carrot from a pocket to feed her. Aeik has to laugh.
“Oh, mighty White Wolf,” he teases. “Warlord of the North, fear of the continent, the Horsewhisperer!”
Geralt turns and gives him a baleful look, but Aeik’s certain he sees the White Wolf’s ears go a bit pink.
“What do you think the kings and lords of your lands would think if they knew the fearsome White Wolf likes to baby talk his horse?”
“I don’t baby talk,” Geralt mutters, turning back to Roach to continue brushing her.
“So you weren’t telling her what a good girl she is? Or how pretty her coat looks? Or how you’ll get her more treats later?”
Geralt’s ears are definitely pink now.
“Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“Better than teasing my big brother? Not really.”
Geralt sighs. Aeik laughs and continues down the hall to Apple’s stall.