Seeing her gorgeous face show no hint of happiness annoyed him. He cursed the Mad King even more after that.
Holy shit! What the fuck is wrong with Aerys! Bastard got a gem and still goes digging in the dirt. Beauty handed to him on a platter, and he treats her like stale bread. Rich twats never know the worth of what they've got.
He dutifully followed the Queen wherever she wanted to go. And honestly, he didn't mind the view. Sure, the gown didn't give him much to look at, but he was a very imaginative man, always had been. Her hips swayed as she wandered into another part of Maegor's Holdfast.
The maids had left already, so it was just him and the Queen now.
Soon, the Queen walked into another room and returned with a young boy, about six years old. The usual pale skin, silver-blonde hair, and Targaryen eyes. He looked small, though, and had a thin body, but he looked perfectly healthy.
"Woah! Mother! What is this thing!"
Already hate this little brat.
"He is Ser Wylis, Viserys. Show him the courtesy he deserves. He'll be guarding us from now on." Queen Rhaella corrected her son's tone. "He's a renowned knig—"
"Oh! Oh! I know him! He's the brute who smashed brother's teeth!" Viserys blurted and eyed Wylis with hate. "He's no friend of ours, Mother. Why did you bring him?"
Wylis awkwardly looked at Rhaella. Viserys just reminded him that this beautiful woman was also Rhaegar's mother, and he had bashed her son's teeth in in the tourney.
"What happened in the tourney was… an accident. I assure you of that, Your Grace." Wylis cleared it up.
"Doesn't matter, you oaf!" The boy prince screeched at Wylis. "You spilled royal blood! I'll tell Father, and he'll have you burned, see if he doesn't!"
"..."
You were right, Khal Drogo… he's a twat through and through.
Now, Wylis didn't believe in corporal punishment for children. But that was on Earth. Westeros was a different world, and hence the customs were different.
Oaf? Me? Holy fuck, I never thought I'd hate a kid this much.
"Viserys, it was His Grace who knighted Ser Wylis and charged him with our protection. What happened at the tourney—there's no blame to lay. Men break lances. Men fall. Rhaegar knew that, long before he took the field." Queen Rhaella corrected her son, or at least tried to. But she was soft, maternal, and too elegant. "Ser Wylis has bested the finest knights of Westeros. Perhaps… you might want to ask him for some sword lessons."
Man, I'm liking her as much as I hate this little bastard.
"Tsk! What lessons? He doesn't even have a sword."
Lord, give me patience to tolerate this little shit.
Wylis said nothing after that. But the course was set in motion. He hated the boy, and he wasn't going to hold back anymore.
Rhaella glanced at Wylis, her gaze lingering for a heartbeat—dry, unreadable. Whatever thoughts stirred behind her eyes, they stayed locked away. She turned, and took Viserys' small hand gently in hers. "Come, sweetling. Let us go. Elia must be awaiting us at the summerhouse."
Silently, Wylis followed the woman, but with a purpose. Once they were out of Maegor's Holdfast, they walked through the massive corridors that went through the boundary walls of the Red Keep.
They passed by the rookery, and then crossed the White Sword Tower, and arrived at a more empty tower. They climbed upstairs and reached its top floor, which had wide window openings, a place made for leisure.
The floor was round, massive, covered in fine carpets, with a large round table right beside the window, overlooking the Narrow Sea. There were also many plants in the pots, green and fluttering in the sea wind.
And of course, the table was occupied by Elia Martell and Ashara Dayne. There were also many other ladies, likely ladies-in-waiting, and wives of the likes of Lord Merryweather and Lord Velaryon. Some of them looked Dornish, likely Elia's companions. There were at least ten noble and royal ladies there.
The place was like a summerhouse with open windows in a circular pattern, as they were in a tower. The place smelled of wine, cheese, and perfumes as the many female servants worked around to decorate the table with food and pour wines.
He'd seen two Kingsguards standing outside the entrance previously, but he was the only man inside. He reckoned that since he was guarding the Queen, he had to be there. But it felt awkward when his eyes matched with Ashara's.
Even Queen Rhaella was looking at Ashara. But the beauty of House Dayne had no idea that the Queen had heard their previous night's exchange.
As Queen Rhaella took a seat, Wylis stepped away from the table and leaned by the opposite window, which looked back inside the Red Keep instead of the sea on the other side.
Ugh… I feel hungry.
"My…"
As expected, he was the center of attention. Some of the noble women eyed him while sipping wine from their goblets.
"Mmm… Sends a warm shiver down my body just looking at him."
"Likewise—Never seen a giant this easy on the eyes."
Hah, then do me a favor and let me put a kid in each one of you. Wylis joked to himself.
He really saw noble women as the best options for siring bastards. No headache or worry about the future of the kid.
"Ser Wylis." Voiced one of the ladies. "How tall are you?"
"Seven feet, my Lady," he replied.
"Oh—That's wonderful." She cooed and seemingly undressed Wylis with her eyes. "Isn't there a taller man in Westerlands? Ser Gregor Clegane?"
Wylis nodded, not at all bothered. The very reason he carved his body into that fine, muscle-shredded form was to attract women. "Aye, there is, my Lady. But he's no man anymore."
"Why is that?" asked Ashara curiously.
"Lord Tywin had me face him at Casterly Rock. I ended up cleaving Ser Gregor's… cock."
Pffft!
Elia Martell spat out her drink.
Cough! Cough!
Ashara coughed, and so did the other women. Not many men were brave enough to use words like cock in front of them. Even less so when the Queen was present.
But it wasn't Wylis' fault. He tried to think of a word to explain it better, but then went for the easy one. Lyanna had really fucked up his vocabulary since she herself never held back her tongue.
"Mother…"
Right then, a little girl, cute as a hamster, perhaps two or three years old with a head full of brown hair, ran up to Elia Martell.
"Mother, what is kh-ok?"
"..."
Wylis facepalmed himself and rubbed his forehead in embarrassment. He really didn't notice who Viserys was playing with on the side. It was Rhaenys Targaryen, Rhaegar and Elia's daughter. And indeed, Elia had another little baby wrapped in soft clothes in her arms, the boy, Aegon.
The women chuckled at Rhaenys' question.
"Why don't you go and ask Ser Wylis himself?" Elia suggested, smirking towards Wylis.
Fuck you, Dornish woman!
Wylis watched as the little girl, not even reaching his knees, ran all the way up to him with stars in her eyes. Chubby cheeks, big black eyes that, on a closer look, shimmered deep violet. Heck, there were even a few blonde strands mixed in her brown hair.
Not at all scared of me? That's a first.
"Mm… What is a—"
"Ah! Princess, do you want to fly like a dragon?" Wylis interrupted her before she could ask the question. He felt the women watching him, how he'd deal with the situation. He really was their entertainment.
"Yes!" Rhaenys chirped excitedly.
"Raise both your arms, sideways and straight."
"Yes!"
Once she had her tiny arms raised sideways, Wylis crouched, clamped his massive hands around her tummy, and lifted her up like a dragon. She weighed nothing, really. He reckoned he ate more than she weighed in a day.
"Ahahaha… Mother! Look!"
But her laughter was cute, and Wylis couldn't help smiling as well. He raised her high up, as high as he could, almost ten feet off the ground. Then he walked around and gently swayed her, and just as planned, Rhaenys flapped her arms like a dragon.
"Wraaaaa~" She roared jovially.
Never thought I'd enjoy playing with kids.
Wylis was shocked by what he was feeling. In his previous life, he avoided having kids. He disliked wasting his time and energy on anyone but himself and his dreams.
But now, as he heard Rhaenys laugh and enjoy herself, he felt warm in his chest. He knew it had less to do with Rhaenys and more to do with the instincts he was slowly building up. With three children on the way, such… little games were going to be his future.
For a moment, he looked towards the table to ensure the women weren't angry. It was the opposite. They were all staring at him with a dreamy look on their face, even Elia. Ashara seemed more annoyed, however. And sadly, Queen Rhaella was sitting with her back towards him, so she didn't even turn her head to look.
"Wraaa~ Wraaa~"
As he played with Rhaenys, the look the ladies gave made him wonder about something. The Tyrant's Title feature, which gave him the ability to grow stronger by shagging Lyanna, Genna, and Ashara, didn't work on Wenda. He got no title for even breeding her.
So only shagging noble ladies will give me that Tyrant's Title to boost strength for each shag?
"That's enough of her! It's my turn! I'm the true dragon—she doesn't even have silver hair! Make me fly, you big oaf!"
And just like that, the calm moment was destroyed as soon as Viserys opened his mouth. From Wylis to Rhaenys, and even the noble ladies, everyone's expression soured. It was as if Viserys had no idea who he should respect and fear. Wylis could splatter the young Prince into fine paste with a single kick.
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