Oneshots, ideas and rejects.

The Witcher - Geralt of Rivia

This is the original first chapter I wrote for my published Witcher fanfic: Silver Tongue.

Wind blew in the tall green grass on the meadow and moved it like a wavy ocean, afraid of breaking the perfect reflection of the sky with white foam. It caressed every flower and treetop on its way making leaves fly like small butterflies every now and then.

Running through the meadow was a girl dressed in a long beautiful and light dress, her frame was small, but not small enough to be a child's however not big enough for a fully grown woman either.

You could see the panic on her face and hear the fear in her shrill screams as arrows narrowly missed her.

Myrcella was never one to run away, she would rather fight, but her dress and lack of a weapon prevented that. The corset was making it hard to breathe too and she could hear the men catching up. If they caught her they would drag her back to their leader and inevitably let her suffer the same faith as her father after they'd had their way with her.

Myrcella looked around for a way out and quickly deemed that she would be most likely to shake the men off if she went through the swamps.

The swamps belonged to Blaviken, and as far as she knew, kikimoras were responsible for population control in the nature surrounding said town, so the men wouldn't dare follow her. Or at least she hoped they wouldn't, since only the dumbest of fools dared willingly picking a fight with creatures like that.

Dodging low-hanging branches and jumping over roots hidden in the forest floor by leaves and moss, Myrcella looked all around herself for a way out or a hiding place as she reached a broad stream that she was unable to cross.

"I got you~."

Myrcella gasped as she tripped and fell on her dress in an attempt to walk backwards to avoid the man who'd jumped out in front of her. The man pulled out his sword and lifted it over his head ready to strike down on her. Myrcella stared her death right in the eyes and accepted her fate. But as the sword was midway in the swing, the man stiffened, a look of pain crossing his face before he fell to the ground revealing Myrcella's saviour.

Her eyes hesitantly fell upon the bloody sword in his hand and he re-sheathed it instantly. His silvery hair moved elegantly in the wind as he calmly stepped over the dead body. He was careful with his movements, almost as if he expected her to scream and run.

"Thank you for saving my life m'lord, I owe you, whatever you want." Myrcella said weakly as he helped her back up.
With all the harm she had experienced in her past, she trusted no man however and made sure to keep a safe distance between them.

"I'm no lord and you don't owe me anything." His flat emotionless tone scared her. Myrcella took another step backwards. "I-I can't thank you enough for doing that, saving my life I mean. Those savages slaughtered my people and my family and burned down the castle and town.. What are you if not a lord? A knight?" Myrcella asked playing dumb.

The way he kept looking at her so intensely, it made her want to vomit. Would he not fall for her lies? "I'm a Witcher." Myrcella furrowed her brows acting like she didn't know what that was, much to the man's confusion. She'd fooled him.
Was she an isolated village girl? No. She was dressed like royalty. He thought.

"I'm Geralt, of Rivia." He introduced himself in hopes of getting her name in return. Normally he could've cared less about some random girl he'd just saved, but upon everything that had just happened with Renfri in Blaviken, Geralt found himself not being able to turn his back on this young woman and go on with his travels for coin before he knew she was at least safe.