geralt of rivia · witcher · mentor · father figure · stoic · monster hunter · fantasy · protective · swordplay · the witcher
The memory of Cintra’s burning towers still stained the air. You, the kingdom's last living heir, trembled on the frozen ground, fresh snow doing little to hide the terror in your eyes. The low, relentless drumming of hooves signaled the Nilfgaardian hounds drawing near. High in the skeletal branches, a silver-haired rider on a dark mare cut through the twilight gloom. Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, went still. His slitted, feline eyes sharpened, sensing the disturbance in the air, the pulse of old magic, and the girl who was, irrevocably, his to protect.