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It had been a week since she and Geralt had settled in at Kaer Morhen.
Ciri wasn't adjusting well. She missed Cintra awfully, and this place was far from it- literally and figuratively. She hated how dark and bleak it was inside Kaer Morhen. She hated the concerning amount of rats residing there who had taken a liking to her room, scurrying under her cot at night. She hated Lambert's cooking (though, who could blame her?). She hated how the other Witchers teased her. And, she hated how she couldn't tell how Geralt really felt about her.
Geralt didn't seem to be exactly the most affectionate type. Some days, he would be so quiet and pensive. He would always ensure Ciri was taken care of, but would hardly say a word to her. Did he really care for her? Was she a burden to him? Would he just abandon her like everyone else? She didn't just hate her new life with the Witchers at Kaer Morhen, she was terrified.
One night, it became especially cold within the keep. A violent winter storm was thrashing its way through Kaedwen, sparing nothing in its path. Howling winds came gusting towards her window, the bitter cold seeping its way in through the cracks that stood no chance against the unforgiving weather.
Ciri shivered. Even after sleeping countless nights camped outside on the freezing hard ground beside a flimsy fire, this was difficult to withstand. Particularly since it wasn’t the winds that had awoken her, it was a nightmare. It had been an often recurring one where the Black Knight had taken her. She couldn’t move, or speak, she could only accept her fate as the knight rode away with her.
Ciri lay shivering, tears forming in her eyes. The sound of a branch banging against the window startled her and caused her to yelp. She couldn’t take it any longer.
Back home in Cintra, Ciri would cry out for her Grandmother during the nights she had bad dreams. The queen would collect Ciri and take her to her and Eist’s bed, and that was all Ciri needed to feel better. Now, those nights were long gone.
Without thinking, Ciri forced herself out of bed. She wrapped herself in her blanket and headed for the door. She wasn’t exactly sure where she would go or what she would do for the night. Perhaps she would occupy herself in the library and catch up on the readings Vesemir had assigned to her. She knew one thing for sure- there was no chance that she would be falling asleep in her room that night.
Ciri quietly made her way down the long, dark corridors, quickening her pace when she began to realize how much more eerie they were at night. Tears began to form again. She was so tired of being brave. At only ten years old, she had endured more pain and trauma in the last few weeks than anyone should have to endure in their entire lives.
She turned a corner and caught a glimpse into one of the Witcher’s bedrooms. The door was ajar, and curiously, she peeked inside. She was silent as she slowly crept her head past the frame. To her surprise, there lay Geralt, peacefully asleep.
In all the weeks she had been traveling with him, Ciri had never seen Geralt asleep. She wasn’t even certain that Witchers slept at all, until now. She found comfort in seeing him in such a relaxed state, as he held himself with such a gruff, stoic, and at times, scary demeanor.
Ciri trusted Geralt with her life, but at the same time, he was a strange man she only met a couple of weeks ago. She couldn’t help but feel intimidated by him at times. He wasn’t one to open up, or start any kind of conversation at all. He rarely smiled, but was still kind to Ciri and was proving himself to be a protective guardian. Though, she feared that he was not truly willing to take on the burden of caring for her, and it was only a matter of time before she would be passed along somewhere else.
Still, in this new environment, she felt the most comfortable with him. She stood and watched as he slept, contemplating if she should do what she longed to do in this moment. The startling sound of a loud chilling wind gust decided for her. Without thinking, she panicked and slipped into Geralt’s room. Gods, she thought. What was she doing? She couldn’t climb into his bed. He would surely be furious to be awoken by a scared, pathetic little girl seeking comfort from him.
Geralt’s bed was placed in the middle of his room, a decent, full-size mattress. He was sleeping on his side, facing the door. Out of desperation, Ciri decided the next best option would be to sleep on the floor. She wouldn’t mind much, and she already felt better knowing she wouldn’t be alone.
Quietly, she crept to the other side of Geralt’s bed, so that she’d be sleeping to his back and hopefully, he wouldn’t even notice her in the morning. Maybe, she would just rest for a few hours and then slip out before he could wake up and notice her. She pondered how she could make this work as she curled up on the floor and wrapped herself in her blanket. Maybe, she could hide under his bed before he could find-
“Cirilla?”
Shit.
Ciri, involuntarily, launched herself up and locked eyes with Geralt, who was now awake, sat up in his bed. The tears started again.
“Geralt- I’m so sorry- I-I had a bad dream and- I didn’t k-know what to do, I d-didn’t mean to bother you. I’m sorry, I’ll go b-back to b-bed.”
Ciri was now fully sobbing. She couldn’t even look at Geralt, and had no desire to. Just how angry was he right now?
She didn’t care to find out, she shot up and made her way to the door.
“Cirilla, wait,” Geralt called out.
Ciri didn’t wait. Mortified, she made a run for her bedroom.
Being that she still didn’t know her way around the keep very well, it was understandable when she tripped over a raised stone on the ground.
Defeated, Ciri lay on the floor a shivering, panicked, crying mess. She heard Geralt approaching and couldn’t even fathom how foolish she must've looked.
“Cirilla-” he started again, only to be interrupted by Ciri’s blubbering.
“I’m sorry, I d-didn’t mean to wake you, I was cold and scared and- it-it won’t happen again. I promise.” she said in a small voice, cowering before Geralt’s large, towering stature, afraid of his response.
Geralt watched the scene unfold- Ciri at his feet; inconsolable, quivering in terror, looking small and utterly helpless. It crushed him. Geralt was used to children fearing him, it was to be expected. Children were taught to fear Witchers, fed fabricated stories of how they were ruthless, heartless and sinister creatures that were not to be trusted. Not to mention his appearance- tall, muscular, brooding, usually decked in heavy armor, strange, orange cat-like eyes, and white hair. He didn’t exactly scream warm and inviting. But, to see Ciri in such a state, this sweet little girl who had endured so much trauma already, who he was destined to protect, and who he had quickly grown fond of, albeit he struggled to express it. It was painful to watch.
Slowly, he crouched down beside her to meet her level.
“Ciri,” Geralt began, softly, gently. She was still shaking. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I would never hurt you.”
Ciri timidly looked up to meet his gaze. That was the first time he'd ever called her Ciri. He offered her a reassuring smile, a sight that she'd rarely seen.
She visibly softened, finally calming and wiping off the last of her tears. Shly, she offered a small smile in return. “Okay,” she squeaked, “I’m sorry-”
“Don’t be. There’s nothing to be sorry for,” Geralt affirmed. “You can always come to me whenever you need to, no matter the time or place. I’m here for you, Ciri. Always.”
As if those words were the permission she needed, Ciri threw herself at Geralt’s chest and they enveloped into a warm embrace.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
As he held her, Geralt was taken aback by this overwhelming feeling of pure, unconditional love, a special kind of love he had never felt for anyone before.
He pressed a kiss onto Ciri's forehead and gently scooped her up, holding her close and stroking her ashen hair, a tenderness that both he and Ciri never knew he was capable of.
“It’s a cold one tonight. You can sleep with me, it’ll be warmer.” said Geralt, carrying the girl to his room.
“Ciri..” Geralt began apprehensively, after a beat of silence. “I’m sorry if I’ve come off cold or intimidating these last few weeks. I’ve… never had to care for someone before, let alone a child- a child of destiny for that matter- and I’ve never been great with… feelings. The truth is, I’ve been afraid too. Afraid of failing you, afraid of people finding us, afraid that I won’t be an adequate fath-”
He looked down only to find Ciri fast asleep in his arms. He chuckled to himself, relieved that she didn’t have to hear his word-vomit of a rant.
Slowly, he slipped into his bed still cradling Ciri, careful not to wake her. He shifted her slightly so that she’d be nestled to his side, and pulled the covers over both of them.
He settled himself into the bed, took another look at the girl sleeping beside him and breathed a sigh of contentment. Geralt had never experienced such bliss. There was no place he wanted to be except in this moment, cuddling his newfound daughter.
“Good night, Cub,” he whispered.