Chapter 9: Lara the Kind
They came upon a small village, a handful of houses and farms scattered around a clearing, with a peaceful stream that ran through the center. There was a large community field, filled with draft horses, cattle, donkeys, and sheep, munching away peacefully at the green grass that grew beneath their hooves. Chickens and geese wandered freely in their flocks, surrounding the water wheel which moved steadily with the speed of the flowing water.
Ciri smiled as she watched a few small children chasing each other, laughing and giggling as they played tag. Her childhood seemed so long ago, even though she was only 12 years of age. The kids screamed playfully, running between the old, rickety houses while the parents tended to the chores.
As they got closer, Ciri noticed people looking at them with frightened looks, and the parents began to usher the kids inside. "What business do you have here, Witcher?" one of the men asked, approaching them and looking at Geralt in disgust.
"Just seeking a place to rest for the night," Geralt replied, ignoring the dirty looks he was receiving from the villagers. Ciri cringed under their gaze as they looked at her with scorn.
The man scoffed. "You are not welcome here," the man replied, arms crossing. "Take your whore and servant and leave."
Ciri jolted at that, looking at the man in shock. Whore? She turned to look at Geralt, who's posture had stiffened and his eyes grew cold. Before Geralt could open his mouth, a plump woman with a young child balanced on her hip came up and shoved the man hard. "Blast you Adum," the woman cussed, her expression angry. Her eyes softened as she turned to them. "I'm sorry, you'll have to ignore him. He's cruel to all visitors. Come, we have space for you in my home and you are more than welcome."
"Bless you, kind lady," Jaskier smiled, receiving a warm one in return from the woman.
"The name is Lara," the woman said, re-balancing the baby as she turned and led them to a small, but humble looking home. There was a small pen on the side, where one small horse stood eating grass. "Lars! Come see to these travellers' horses."
A young boy, no older than 14 came and bowed politely to the Witcher, Ciri and Bard. The trio dismounted, tying their horses to a post. "I'll take care of them," the boy murmured, looking at the three horses in awe.
"Be polite," Geralt said to Roach, as he finished tying the knot to the post.
They followed Lara into her home. It was a rustic home, with a fire place against the far wall, lit brightly with an orange flame. A small kitchen was in the one corner, and on the opposite sat a table and four wooden chairs. Down the hall, there was three bedrooms, one for Lara and her baby, and the other for her older boy. "My husband died recently, some sort of sickness," the woman said sadly. Shaking her head, she turned to smile at them. "But he left me with two beautiful sons, and a wonderful home."
Ciri smiled in return. Lara looked at her kindly. "Would you be able to watch him for me, dear?" The woman held out the baby, no older than 7 or 8 months.
Shocked, Ciri nodded and tentatively took the baby and propped him in her lap as she sat down. Geralt and Jaskier sat to the table, the Bard talking to the woman and complimenting her on her home. Ciri stared at the baby, looking at it's chubby round cheeks and rolls on its arm. Innocent brown eyes gazed up at her curiously, before one of its small hands came up to pull lightly on a lock of her blonde hair. "Aren't you such a sweet child," Ciri cooed, smiling at the baby.
Never had she held one before, but instantly her heart swelled with tenderness. Bouncing the baby up and down gently on her knee, she smiled when it giggled, fingers opening and closing as it laughed. Geralt and Jaskier looked over, surprised to see Ciri interacting with the baby. "She's a natural," Lara grinned, watching her baby happily. "What is she to you gentleman? One of yours' child, or a sister?"
Geralt shifted uncomfortably, leaving it to Jaskier to pipe up. "She was a child who lost her family to war," Jaskier frowned, not really lying but leaving out the important details. "We saved her and got attached to each other. We had no choice but to take her with us."
"Do you not live a dangerous life Witcher?" Lara asked curiously, looking at Geralt with no fear when his golden eyes turned to stare at her. "Would she not be safer in a home, not travelling the countryside hunting foul monsters?"
"There is no safer place for her, than with me," Geralt rumbled, turning to look at Ciri once more. Ciri had heard this interaction, but gave no indication as she continued entertaining the young baby. The Princess couldn't agree more; there was no where she felt safer, than at Geralt's side.
"Hmm," Lara hummed, but said no more as she moved over to the fireplace and began tending to a stew she had brewing.
The baby yawned wide, eyes squinting shut and its toothless mouth opening up. Ciri smirked and placed the baby against her chest, it's head cradled in the crook of her neck. She rubbed it's back gently, listening as his breathing evened out and sleep took him. Leaning her head back against the wall, she listened to the sound of the fire, tuning out the quiet conversation between Jaskier and Geralt.
She had no idea how much time had passed, when Lara's face appeared before her as the woman handed her a bowl of stew. "Here, I'll take him," Lara murmured softly, gently taking the child from her and moving him over to a small bassinet in the corner of the room.
Ciri looked down at the warm bowl in her hands, the delicious aroma filling her nose as she inhaled deeply. Appreciative for a hot meal, she brought the spoon up to her lips and took a sip. It was wonderful. With more speed than decent for a Princess, she ate the stew. Geralt looked over, surprised to see that Ciri was already done her meal.
"Has she been eating enough?" Lara asked concerned.
Ciri flushed a deep red, and answered before the men could get the chance. "Yes, they provide me with more than enough food. I just forgot my manners," Ciri said, half-lying. She had been eating much smaller portions lately, knowing that whatever she didn't eat, Jaskier and Geralt would eat. She didn't want to take food from them.
Geralt looked at her strangely, almost as if he knew what she was thinking. Averting her eyes, she looked at her bowl. Lara was suddenly in front of her again, a ladle in hand as she put more stew in her bowl. "Eat your fill sweet child, there's plenty to go around."
Ciri looked at her bowl, tears pricking the corners of her eyes as she looked down at the hot meal. She ate a bite slowly, chewing a piece of potato, as her mind moved to her grandmother. Lara spoke to her just as her grandmother had. The tears couldn't be held back, and they fell over her dirty cheeks, leaving clean trails down her face. Her shoulders shook with the effort of keeping the sobs in, her hands trembling on the bowl as she ate another bite. She placed the bowl down next to her, and reached her hands up to wipe her eyes. Before she could touch her face, she looked at her dirty hands, no longer the clean polished fingers of a princess well cared for, but dirty for the homeless, street rat she now was. Her beloved grandparents were both dead. No one was left of her blood.
Warm arms enveloped her; Ciri instantly recognized them as Geralts'. With her forehead pressed firmly against his chest, she allowed the sobs out, crying hard and getting out her emotions. Geralt lifted her up easily. "Thank you for the meal, Lara," Geralt's voice rumbled through his chest, and Ciri could feel it against her chest. "We shall retire for the night. It's been a stressful time for her."
Geralt carried Ciri to the spare room where they were to sleep for the night. Placing Ciri on the edge of the bed, Geralt removed his armour and sword and boots, before sitting on the bed against the headframe and pulling Ciri against his chest. Sobs still shook her small frame, and his stone-cold heart clenched. She was suffering, with good reason, and he was helpless to ease it. He did not know what to do, so he just stroked her back as she cried, soaking through his shirt with her salty tears.
It was a long time, or at least it felt like it to Geralt, before her tears slowed and her sobbing eased. The loud wailing into his chest had softened to just light hiccups, her shoulders trembling slightly. Reaching down, he moved her thick locks from her face and used his thumb to wipe away the remaining tears along her cheeks. "What's on your mind princess?" Geralt mumbled softly, his chest rumbling from his words.
Ciri sniffed, before looking up at Geralt with wide eyes, her eyes red and puffy from all the crying. "I miss my grandmother," she hiccupped again. Seeing her like this, really drove home for Geralt that she really was still a young child. "There's no one left… It's just me. I'm an orphan, and no one's alive to even care that I'm still here. It's selfish, I should be grateful that I'm still alive, but… I sometimes think it would've been easier and more peaceful if I had died."
Geralt took a deep breath, his grip tightening on the girl just a bit. He wasn't good at words, but he would have to try. "You are not alone Ciri. You have Jaskier and myself, who care about your wellbeing and health. Orphan perhaps, but many kids are. You are blessed to carry the memories of your grandmother, and grandfather, and Mousesack, and your parents. But you were meant to live. Jaskier and I need you, just as much as you need us."
Ciri looked up at Geralt in shock. Not sure what to do with the tense mood, she smirked. "That's more words than I've ever heard you say Witcher."
Geralt looked shocked for a minute, before scowling at her playfully. "You cheeky little brat," he grinned, ruffling up her hair as she lay back on his chest.
A quiet laugh shook the girl's shoulders, as she relaxed into his warm embrace. It did not take long for her to fall asleep, listening to the sound of his slow heart-beat in her ear.