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Ciri came home suddenly one night. Geralt and Yennefer didn't even receive a letter days before to expect her arrival. And yet, to her surprise, they were still overjoyed to see her. She was showered with their greetings, and she smiled to express the joy that she felt when they held her.
But, there was something else hidden beneath her smile that both of them quickly noticed. Her face was haggard--her eyes sunken and face paler than usual. Her irises seemed to have clouded a bit, losing the brilliant green hue they once had. Her cheeks were also hollowed, and she looked a bit sickly as if she hadn't been eating.
They walked back into their home, the foyer and dining room warmly illuminated by the numerous lanterns and candles. Ciri inhaled deeply, feeling the ache in her heart starting to spread, and knowing that they were going to confront her. She turned to where Geralt and Yen stood next to the mahogany table.
"So, what brings you here so suddenly?" Yen asked. Her arms were crossed, and Ciri knew that she noticed something was wrong immediately.
"Nothing, I just missed you both." She lied. Her inner voice screamed at her. She knew that they could see right past her. But, why should she even vent to them about her own demons? There was no point.
They continued to look at her, both of their eyebrows raised. She felt uncomfortable, unable to bear their persistent stares.
"Ciri, we know there's more to it than just that." Geralt shifted and leaned against the table. "What's going on?"
A few moments of silence passed, and Ciri looked between the both of them. They weren't going to move until she told them what was wrong, she knew. But. She didn't want to complain-- didn't want to bother them. Her knees were on the verge of yielding under pressure, she wanted to tell them, but on the other hand, she didn't. There was no point.
"Are you okay?" Geralt was beginning to worry. She was only quiet when she was angry and upset. He knew how she was back when they raised her in Kaer Morhen. Sometimes it would take hours to coax her into telling him what was wrong. But she would always tell him, and he would always comfort her. And she would never fail to say to him what was going on. Not even now.
"I don't know…" She began. Her inner voice screamed at her. Why was she doing this? Why was she feeling this way?
"Lately...lately, I've just been not caring enough. I don't know how to explain it." She sighed, exasperated.
"I haven't been looking for any monsters or gone exploring...I haven't been looking after myself, truthfully." She gave a half-hearted laugh at that, trying to mask the sincerity and pain from her words. It's true. She barely ate, barely slept. The last time she had a full night's rest was the last time she'd visited them--months ago.
Geralt glanced sideways at Yen, noticing the worried look on her face as she listened. She bit her lip and strode towards Ciri, placing her hands on her shoulders.
"Ciri…" She trailed off as Ciri gently touched the pendant on her choker, much like what Geralt does when he overthinks. Like father, like daughter.
"I've just--been alone. At an inn. Or a pub. Either drinking or contemplating how dreary the next day will be."
Her fingers were focused entirely on tracing the pentagram on her mother's neck, only to be interrupted by Yennefer, who pulled her into an embrace. Ciri's arms instinctively wrapped around her, her heart breaking. She didn't want to come here. She never wanted to bother them with her musings and her pain.
"Pathetic, isn't it?" She managed to choke out.
Her mind flashed back to when she lay on the cold floor of an inn, drinking the night away--thinking that everything she had ever done was meaningless. Her meager existence was the cause of Cintra burning to ashes, the cause of Geralt and Yennefer's torture at the hands of the Wild Hunt, the cause of Vessemir's death.
Everything was her fault.
Everything could have been better if she never existed.
Yen grimaced, feeling the pain and hatred ebbing out of her daughter's invisible wounds. Her days as a hunchback had faded; however, the pain and the hatred that she had felt towards herself still lingered, and she understood.
She tightened her hold around Ciri, realizing how mature she had grown. She was no longer the girl in Kaer Morhen, but she was still trying to grapple with her past. Her maturity was causing her daughter to think more deeply about her existence--and with that comes more hurt and blame.
"My love." Yennefer started, trying to get Ciri out of her head. Her violet eyes met Geralt's, and he quickly understood. He strode towards her and placed a gentle hand on his daughter's back.
"Ciri." His voice was tender, coaxing. He never liked seeing her sad, let alone heartbroken.
She dragged herself through the depths of her mind, trying to escape her anger, her hatred. If only she had alcohol, if only she had never come--
My love.
Ciri.
At those words, Ciri hid her face. She would have come earlier if not for her stubborn head. But the weight of a thousand worlds enveloped her, leaving her weak and exhausted all the time. She felt like collapsing, and her first instinct was to come running to her parents.
Although she had the strength and the willingness to do things independently, she realized that not all things can be dealt with on her own. Her parents were the ones who held her when she wept, who cuddled her when she had nightmares, who stayed with her when she felt alone. They never failed in their endeavors to heal her broken heart.
Ciri realized that it was the right decision to come to them. The pressure in her mind eased a bit as she felt Yennefer's arms loosen their hold and felt her hands come up to cup her cheeks.
"You're not leaving until this is settled." Yen didn't expect her to argue back. There was no point. Ciri nodded weakly, and she let go.
"I'm going to prepare your room, Geralt--" She looked up at him, her violet eyes exposing the worry and distress she tried to hide. "Stay with her."
He nodded, and Ciri turned to meet his eyes. His gaze softened as he saw how weary his daughter looked. His heart ached for her, and seeing that she was rooted to where she stood, he gently coaxed her into his open arms.
"C' mere."
She hesitated, yet her emotions overwhelmed her, and she staggered, almost falling into his embrace. Her body was rigid at first, but her father was a solid pillar of warmth. She melted in his arms, her head resting against his chest.
"I don't know why I'm feeling like this," She whispered. Her voice was fragile, close to breaking.
He held her close and rested his chin on her head. "Sometimes it's okay to not know." A few moments of silence passed between them, and he held her tighter.
"But I want you to know that I'm always here."
----
The three of them lay in her room, Geralt silently thanking Yen for buying the largest mattress when they first decided to dedicate a room for their daughter.
Ciri was nestled between them, staring at the ceiling--feeling the months of pain and exhaustion gnawing at her bones. There was still the constant pressure in her head. Her mind was at war, trying to make sense of the thoughts that stabbed at her heart.
"An oren for your thoughts?" Geralt asked.
She would say that to him to coax him out of silence when he'd brood. She smiled faintly and decided that being open was not the worst choice.
"I'm just feeling tired. And my mind won't let me rest."
He brushed a few stray ashen strands off her face. "We'll stay with you until you fall asleep."
"No, stay with me even when I fall asleep. Please." She turned her head to look at him, her eyes pleading. The nights she spent alone were unbearable, but having the two of them put her heart at ease. The pain of the past few months was beginning to fade away with just their presence.
Yennefer listened to her voice, the sadness laced in her words. She gently reached over to stroke Ciri's cheek. "We'll stay as long as you need us, my darling. Until morning even. And every night of your stay here."
She needed them. She always needed them. She was empty when she was by herself. Numb to the world, only a shell of her whole being. Her loneliness had led to despair and anxiety, and nihilism.
She needed their presence, she needed their words, their tender caresses. She would have nightmares back then--now it was her own despondent thoughts that plagued her waking conscience.
But she realized that they were still with her. They were always with her to chase away the bad dreams and now her inner demons.
She needed them.
"Ciri, I want you to know that we love you. Deeply. Without any boundaries." Yen pressed a tender kiss on her forehead, and she saw her daughter close her eyes.
"Good to know," Ciri muttered. She was exhausted. Emotionally, mentally, physically. But she still felt her parents tenderly stroke her hair, her cheeks. And she let one stray tear fall onto the bed. Her mind stopped waging war, and she felt a sense of relief cascading over her wrecked being.
A few minutes of silence passed, and both Yennefer and Geralt thought that she had finally fallen asleep. Until they heard her whisper the words that made their hearts melt and bleed unconditional love for their daughter.
"I want you both to know that I love you too."