Forward: This story is based around the Game of Thrones TV series and the Witcher game series set at the final battle of Witcher 3 with Heart of Stone being concluded.

Prologue

Geralt panted as he sprinted forward, hurrying to the tower that was at the center of a maelstrom of raw magical energy and searing cold winds. The Witcher was tired...body aching after his last duel with Eredin, the master of the Wild Hunt. Yet despite the Ane Elle slayed, things weren't finished yet. The White Frost was coming still and Ciri's fate being tied to it. He wasn't going to stand by and let her die, not after everything he had endured for so many months in searching for her, not after all the friends that had died in protecting her.

Climbing the last flight of stairs, he was soon reached the hollowed out center of the tower. Avallac'h was there, the powerful elven mage channeling the magical energy about the tower, focused it towards the lone sturdy door at the ruined tower's far end. Geralt moved in, silver blade still in hand as he remember Eredin's last words.

"Avallac'h has betrayed us both. He set us against each other…and he's made off with Cirilla."

He had said he didn't believe him…yet seeing Avallac'h alone sparked doubt in him. By now the elf had noticed him, finishing his channeling before speaking in his very calm and formal manner.

"Geralt…So unfortunate. I'd hoped you wouldn't have to witness this." Turning about, he'd facing the Witcher with a sorrowful look hinting his sharp featured face.

Geralt stepped closer, expression stern towards the elf. "Where's Ciri?" He simply demanded.

"Nearby. Listen-" Avallac'h started.

"Shut up." Geralt grasped his blade in both hands, stance shifting to fight. "I've heard enough of your bullshit. Draw your weapon, let's get this over with."

Avallac'h stepped back, sensing how frustrated the Witcher was. Yet he'd draw his blade, stance tense before he'd shake his head and tossing his blade aside. He'd look back at Geralt, still keeping that calm look about him even in the face of death.

"Think I'm willing to spare you?" Geralt questioned, suspicious at what the elf mage was planning.

"I think you will not attack one unarmed." The elf countered back.

Geralt tightened his grip on his blade. "Wouldn't be so sure. I'm in a foul mood."

"I am not your foe. I am meagerly helping Cirilla."

"I don't believe you. Can't. Not after all that's happened."

"Will you believe me?" A familiar female voice said off to the side.

Quickly Geralt turnabout, sheathing his blade and relaxing as he saw it was Ciri, although she was now dressed in heavy fur clothes fit for travel. Already he was figuring out what was going on…and that worried him all the more.

"Avallac'h speaks the truth. I asked him to help me open the tower, because I aim to enter it." The way she spoke showed how serious she was on the matter.

"Didn't think it worthwhile to tell me, warn me of your plans?" Geralt questioned, a hint of frustration in his voice.

Ciri took a breath, glancing away slightly before answering back. "I'm sorry. I know, I should have…but I feared you'd not understand." She'd look back at him, with that determined look back in her emerald green eyes.

"Feels like I'm talking to Yennefer." Geralt muttered, head bowed slightly before looking up again. "Leave with me. Please." A hint of desperation showed in his words, showing just how emotional this moment was to him.

"I will, Geralt, once I emerge from the tower. If I emerge." Her voice was soft, at its lowest with those last dreaded words.

"Ithlinne's prophecy is drivel. Destruction is not our fate." He countered back, stepping closer as again emotion was driving him on even as Ciri paced to the edge of the tower, staring over the snowstorm ridden sea.

"You have seen the future, don't you remember?" Geralt glance back at Avallac'h, remembering the world he had seen during his final battle with the Grand Master of Salamandra, the hellish frozen waste that had consumed the world. "Entropy cannot be stopped. The worlds will freeze, one after the other, and all life will parish."

"Avallac'h is right. If I do nothing, humans, elves, all will face destruction." Ciri added, turning back back to face the Witcher.

Geralt shook his head, trying to think of a solution…something other way that all the knowledge he had learned over his life. Yet he had nothing. "There gotta be another way…"

"What can you know about saving the world, silly? You're but a Witcher." Ciri countered back in a soft witty manner, catching him off guard as he had nothing to say back.

Ciri looked to the doorway which was open, snow and white swirling portal energy filling the void. "This is my story, not yours. You must let me finish telling it." She'd pause before moving towards the doorway, ready to fulfill her destiny.

Geralt took a deep breath, realizing he was acting foolish in trying to dissuade her. She was right...the White Frost had to be stopped and only she could do it. "Good luck, Ciri"

She'd pause at the stairs leading to the doorway, turning to look at him once more. "Perhaps I should have told you. I see now you might have understood."

"Know you better than you think." A small smirk hinted his lips, making Ciri softly grin back. "Don't keep me waiting." She'd nod at that final remark, facing back to the doorway and stepping toward it. She'd give a final look back to Geralt, a forlorn look showing across her face before she'd step forward through the portal, vanishing in a flash of light.

Geralt took a deep breath, counting the minutes that pass by while Avallac'h stood by, silently watching the portal.

….

Ciri fell forward roughly as portal flung her into a wasteland being ravished by an endless snowstorm. She shielded her eyes from the frost, quickly glancing around her harsh surroundings as she tried to figure out what she was supposed to do. Despite everything Avallac'h learned about the Frost, he didn't know how her Elder Blood could stop it. However she'd focus on the icy slope ahead, seeing light at the top of it. She felt that that was the way to go…the source of the White Frost.

She'd struggle through the wind and snow, narrowing her eyes as the light ahead was so intense…yet something shifted before it. Nearing the slope's top a tall figure stepped forward, silhouette by the light yet revealing a shocking appearance. The figure was dressed in dark armor, yet not like the heavy ornate pieces the Wild Hunt wore. The skin looked rough and a chilled pale blue, almost as if ice had frozen over the figure's skin like a second layer. The face was sharp angled like an elf's yet had that rough look across it. All around his bare head were a series of evenly set spikes that forms into a natural crown.

Ciri's emerld eyes locked with the figure's, whose gaze was a pure icy blue. They were cold, calculating and lacking any emotion towards her, not even hate. Already her mind was racing, trying to figure out what this creature was since it was nothing like any monster Vesemir's books and lessons had shown. Yet there was no denying it, the way the storm molded around the figure showed that he controlled it. She'd drew Gwyhyr as arcane energy flowed around her, her Elder Blood's power being shown. A hint of curiosity just hinted in those piercing blue eyes before Ciri rushed at him, blade striking down to end him…

….

Geralt felt something was wrong. His gut feeling never failed him and his wolf amulet was vibrating intensely. Avallac'h's calm expression broke as shock crossed his face. "No…this isn't right." He muttered before waving his hands, muttering incantations. The doorway surged with energy, making Geralt tense and draw is silver sword, ready for anything that may come through the portal.

"Damn it Avallac'h, what is going on!?" He snapped out as another surge went out through the tower, flinging him and the elf off their feet. Both landed roughly to the ground, struggling back up as quickly as possible. "I'm not sure. Something is disrupting the portal. The connection is breaking yet it isn't subsiding!" The elf male yelled out over the howling winds. "I have to try and direct it. Ciri must not have finished her task…yet her presence on the other side as affected it!" Again he'd continue his spell casting while Geralt stared back at the portal, thinking over the elf's words. Did Ciri die…did the Frost kill her somehow? It couldn't have ended that way could it? Gripping his blade, he cursed at his powerlessness, yet knew that something had to be done.

"I'm going through. I don't care…prophecies and blood lines be damned, I'm not letting this happen." He rushed for the portal Avallac'h surprised at the Witcher's actions.

"Geralt, here is no telling where you'll go! You mustn't-" He started yet another surge of magical energy pulsed forward. The Witcher reached the portal at that moment, crying out as the burst of power shocked his body. He gritted his teeth, dealing with the pain even as his nerves felt like they were in fire. The familiar lurging feeling of the portal could be felt, that feeling which he hated so much. Yet this time it was more intense, stronger than even the time he had traveled between worlds with Avallac'h. Much like Ciri, he was gone in a flash of light as one final surge before the doorway crumbled from the raw power.

Being pulled through, he'd see his surroundings rapidly change. Places he had been to, seeing events of the past, worlds strange and alien. It was so rapid that it was blinding while the physical pull stressed his body to its limits. At last though everything came to a slamming halt as he felt his body crash against a rough solid ground, making everything black out.

…

Slowly Geralt started to wake up, head feeling as if a troll had smacked him about and body aching as if he had fell from a cliff. He felt snow against his face along with sharp rumble scraping against the right side of his face which was pressing to the ground. Grunting, he'd push himself up onto his knees, panting as he catched his breath while examining his surroundings, being in the center of a clearing of some forest.

It was easy to tell that he wasn't on Skellige because of the trees, they weren't fitting for the cold islands but more for mountainous inland. Already he questioned if he was in some other world taken by the Frost or perhaps the prime world where it originated. Maybe he was just all the way at Kaer Morhen…and everything had just been a bad dream.

"I wish…" He muttered as he'd staggered up to his feet, groaning in pain before grasping at his right side. Considering his experience with injuries, he could tell that a rib or two was broken, nothing that Swallow and rest would do. However his sharp ears hear something in the surrounding woods, a heavy foot breaking twigs. Survival instinct had the Witcher on guard, grasping his silver blade, waiting for a sign of who or whatever lurked about.

From the thick tree line, a gruff figure armed with a crude axe stepped into view. For a moment Geralt thought it was a Skelliger warrior but noticed how the clothing was far too primitive in design. The bearded man grunted, speaking out in some unknown language while waving his axe about in a threatening manner.

"Easy now, not looking to fight." Geralt spoke back, biting back pain from his injured side. Slowly he'd sheath his silver blade, though was to draw his steel if needed. The man looked confused at the Witcher, obviously not understanding him before grinning after a moment. Again he spoke, tone calmer as he'd lower his axe and relax his stance, though Geralt saw how man's other hand shift to a rusty throwing knife at his hip.

As soon as that knife was thrown, Geralt's sword was out as he batted the blade away midflight with a resounding clang. The raider gave a wide eyed look of shock before yelling out in some kind of warning cry. It was cut short as Geralt rushed forward, growling out as anger and adrenaline drove him, the enchanted steel blade slice right into the man's shoulder and cleave through to his hip. Blood and gore flew about as the severed torso and lower body fell aside, right as more angry yells followed. Three more raiders storms out at him, gruff faces fierce with anger.

"Come on you pieces of filth!" Geralt growled out before making the Quin sign with his left hand, a short shimmer of yellow energy pulsing as a shield around him. Quickly he was surrounding, three of the wild men quickly attacking form all sides. Being wounded and angry left his defenses low, yet the Quin sign guarded him as he'd slash left and right. His blade would block a worn sword while a spike of shocking magic stopped an axe from cutting into his back, making his attacker yell out in pain. One by one they dropped, a blade to the gut, an arm severed and another fried by the defensive sign breaking.

Panting, he saw more wild raiders swarming from the woods, nearly a dozen from a glance. Always the same, men never giving up even after seeing their friends dismembered or magic being used. Right now he didn't care if they were all suicidal…he'd fight them all! As the first line of men closed in he'd make the Igni sign as a wide arch of flames burst forth, setting the group aflame. They howled and stumbled around only for him to move in cutting each flailing man down. More hateful yells and cries came from the second wave which he ignored as he drew a grapeshot from his hip pouch. Lighting the boom, he threw it out to land in the middle of the charging group, ensuring he'd hit all of them. The resulting explosion ripped the men apart and split nearby trees apart, leaving only a chilling silence afterwards.

Panting, he'd step back to survey the battle, leaning back against a tree to steady himself. Over a dozen of the raiders were dead, small fires burning around from both his Igni sign and the bomb. "Any more…any one?" He spoke out, exhaustion and anger making him lose a bit of composure for the moment. Taking a deep breath to sigh, he'd take out a Swallow and gulp the potion down. Shivering from the taste, a soothing feeling soon course through him to quicken his recovery. Taking a moment to close his eyes to calm himself, he'd soon hear a new sound approaching him, the hooves of horses.

Opening his eyes, he'd shift to stand straight as he felt party recovered and focused once more. Soon from a more open part of the woods, three men in leather and chainmail rode in on horseback, each carrying round steel shields with the mark of a snarling wolf on it. Geralt could tell they were soldiers from their gear and the way they acted, although their expressions showed shock at the death and destruction before them.

Quickly, all three of them focused on Geralt who stared them all down. His sword was still out, held low to his side. The soldiers had their spears up slightly as one rider moved up, keep his weapon at the ready. "Who are you outsider?" The man spoke, his accent deep and tone stern. The language was that of the northern kingdoms though the dialect was different to a degree.

"Geralt of Rivia…" The Witcher simply stated.

"Rivia? Is that some land from Essos?" The soldier quickly questioned. "I can't say I've seen anyone like you either. Armor is unlike anything I've seen…two swords…white hair and-" He'd pause when he saw those eyes, yellow in color and cat like. It caught him off guard and grip his weapon more tightly. "Did you kill all of these Wildings? There must be a dozen, yet you're alone."

Geralt, paused before nodding. "Yah…they attacked me suddenly. Couldn't understand them before their swarmed." He explained.

Again the guards muttered about each other, giving warily looks to the white haired man. "Outsider, in the name of Lord Eddard Stark, Warden of the North and Lord of Winterfell, you are to accompany us back to the capital keep for questioning." The leading guard requested.

Already Geralt realized that he wasn't in the Northern Kingdoms…well…HIS version of the Northern Kingdoms. He didn't know about any Lord Stark or Winterfell, the first hints of being in some different world. "I take refusing isn't a choice?" He asked.

The guard simply nodded, the other two tensing slightly.

Sighing, Geralt sheathed his steel blade before stepping towards the three soldiers. "Fine I'll come along. I'd rather not cause trouble with the lordship."

"Smart man…We're a few days away yet the King's Road will get us there quick. Hopefully you can share more about yourself and where with 'Rivia' is."

"Trust me…I have just as many questions." The Witcher muttered back, feeling that difficult times were coming ahead. Right now, he had to follow along, learn as much as he could and then find Ciri, if she was even in this world.

…