GoT & Witcher Crossover

Geralt knew the portal wasn't stable. Yet he still jumped through, the Wild Hunt steady on his trail. Ciri had opened two portals for them to escape, hoping that they both led to other locations within their world. Yet here Geralt was, tumbling from the sky, right into a lush garden.

"Argh!" Geralt cried as he flew through Ciri's portal. He landed with a thud right onto the hard stone. High pitched screams and gasps surrounded him.

Geralt groaned as he struggled to rise, sword still in hand. He knew the portal had closed when his medallion stopped pulsing.

"What is the meaning of this?" demanded a young woman with another young lady at her side. By their looks, they were nobles, yet they didn't seem to be afraid of him. "Guards!"

Geralt sheathed his sword. "Apologies, I seem to be—," Geralt was cut off by several well armored guards in white drawing their swords. "Damn. No use fighting them off." One guard punched him in the face then kneed him in the groin. Geralt doubled over as he was carried off to what he assumed would be the dungeon.

The small council meeting had an unusual guest this time: King Joffrey. There were important matters to discuss, but Joffrey was only concerned with the strange man who'd interrupted his betrothed's walk with Sansa Stark. And of course, Margery herself attended the council too.

"Your Grace, what do you suggest we do with this…prisoner?" Grand Maester Pycelle asked. The council waited for Joffrey's answer.

"I say we execute him and hang him from the ramparts!"

Margery touched Joffrey's arm. "My love, let us show the vagabond mercy. At least see why he's here. He's likely some poor lost soul."

Joffrey sat back down, visibly calmer. "Fine, bring him to the throne room. We'll see about this there." Joffrey grabbed Margery's hand and walked out.

Cersei sighed. "Well, it seems this meeting is over. The throne room shall we?" She stood up clutching the long train of her dress and walked out.

The damp cell reeked of vomit and shit. At least it wasn't terribly cramped. Geralt had seen much worse than this. The only thing wrecking his nerves was what they might do to him. He knew nothing about this land and how justice was served, nor how long he might be here. He shut his eyes and tuned out those negative thoughts. Instead he thought about Yennefer, her wavy black hair and lilac and gooseberries. He wondered if lilac and gooseberries grew here. His train of thought was interrupted by the jingling of keys. The cell door clicked and swung open. Geralt's eyes quickly adjusted to the sudden light exposure.

"Get up," A rough voice growled. "King wants to see youse."

Oh boy, this is gonna go well, Geralt thought. He always hesitated to meet or work for nobles. Too often they'd disrespected and misjudged Geralt. He hoped maybe it would be different in this land.

The soldiers paraded him down several hallways before turning into a large throne room with a throne seemingly forged from iron swords. On it sat a boy no older than 16 with who Geralt assumed were his advisors flanking him. Closest to him was the same woman Geralt had seen in the garden. The guards stopped him several feet away from the steps to the throne.

"State your name stranger," the boy king commanded.

Geralt didn't dare disobey. There was something strange in that boy's eyes, something evil. "Geralt. And you? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with this kingdom."

The boy scoffed. "I am Joffrey Baratheon, King of Westeros, and you will address me as Your Grace or not at all."

Geralt flinched. "Apologies, Your Grace. Yes, it's just Geralt."

Joffrey rolled his eyes. "My fiancé tells me you somehow fell from the sky, sword in hand. Who are you?"

"I'm Geralt, a-a Witcher, Your Grace," Geralt heard the court murmur.

"A witcher? Like a male witch?" asked the girl from the garden.

"No, I kill monsters, like vampires, ghouls, and werewolves," Geralt shook his head. Shit, I bet this place has nothing like that.

The King laughed loudly. "Ha! A jester isn't he? Perhaps we'll keep him as a fool!"

Margery chimed in. "My love, let's ask more questions first. Geralt, you were carrying two swords on your back. Why is that?"

"One is silver, for monsters," Joffrey sniggered. "The other…is steel for humans,"

The woman to the left of the throne commented. "I bet you know how to use them too?"

Geralt smiled a nasty grin. "Better than most men."

Joffrey glared at the woman. Based on her age and their identical hair, Geralt guessed that she was the king's mother. She continued. "Maybe this vagabond would like to prove his skills?"

The king jumped up in excitement. "Yes! An excellent proposal mother! This Geralt who claims to be the best will face off against my Kingsguard! Should he win, he'll be set free! Well there's a solution, now take him back to the cells, he reeks of shit."

Geralt smiled and bowed, having heard that particular insult more times than he could count. The guards escorted him back down to his damp cell until tomorrow.