Red Keep,
Wylis woke up groggy that day, still dark as usual. He barely got any sleep last night. After digging the tunnel and using Earthbending, he would get so tired that his sleep could be called a coma.
"Hm?"
He heard some noise from the little window and looked outside.
It's raining?
Although winter had started to fade away, it was still pretty cold, and the rain made it colder. So, he wore proper clothes that day. New ones that arrived yesterday. Made for his big size. Still, no armor.
All done, he left the room and walked upstairs to stand guard in front of the Queen's bedchamber. Like usual, the four maids came some time later, and he allowed them inside. The job was so boring that he felt like sleeping while standing.
Moments later, he stepped aside and let the maids leave the bedchamber. Behind them, the Queen walked out, looking as stunning as the day before, her gown a shade of red and purple that day, somewhat off the shoulder, but not too revealing. She was a sight to behold.
"Ser Wylis?"
Rhaella appeared surprised for a moment.
Wait, did she think I was going to leave last night?
Wylis smiled and, as usual, kissed the back of her hand. And as he stood up straight, he whispered to her. "Won't leave without saying goodbye, Your Grace."
A sudden, electrifying shine returned to the woman's eyes. Sadly, still no smile. He really wanted to see her smile once.
"It is raining today, Ser Wylis." Rhaella said, "Viserys will be visiting the court. I think I shall spend the morning in the Godswood. The pavilion will do well enough to keep me dry."
Wylis nodded and started following her around. They exited Maegor's Holdfast and then crossed some walls and soon arrived in the Godswood. He wanted to survey the area for his escape, so he was focused.
Eventually, they arrived on a one-acre lot full of alders and elms. They reached the tree-heart, an old oak tree, massive. And nearby it was the large pavilion, roofed and dry, with soft cushioned seats and a table.
There were no servants. Rhaella didn't call for any. The woman just went ahead and sat down. She gazed at the greenery around and listened to the rain.
Wylis kept standing close by, eyeing everything around. Knowing the directions, he tried to measure how much more he needed to dig in order to cross under the dry moat of Maegor's Holdfast.
"Ser Wylis."
"Your Grace?"
"What do you plan to do afterwards?"
He eyed the woman. She was clearly worried that Aerys would send men after him. But Wylis couldn't tell her that the Targaryen dynasty's days were numbered. He won't be running away from the King's hounds for too long.
"Thought I'd claim a stretch of land up North. Still got a fair bit of coin from the tourney. Might even raise a grand old manor—something with a view." Wylis revealed a more toned-down version of his real goal. "And if fate's kind, perhaps you'll come see it for yourself one day."
Rhaella nodded. "The possibility of such is low. But I shall pray for your good fortune."
"Your Grace, if your prayers are half as divine as your presence, then I'm already the most fortunate soul in the realm," he replied cheekily.
Rhaella looked towards him at that, and her gaze lingered on his face for a while. "Be wary of giving kindness too freely, Ser Wylis. Too many will spend it carelessly, or twist it to their own ends."
She really cares about me? Really?
At that point, he was confused whether she was genuinely being kind to him. And he expected Rhaella to be similarly confused by his kindness towards her.
Shhhh~
The rain became heavy. They didn't talk anymore after that. In silence, they listened to the raindrops.
"Hmm… hm…" Wylis began to hum a song that suddenly got stuck in his head, thanks to the rain.
Rhaella looked at him, showing a very faint expression of amusement.
Wylis did the same and verbally muttered those lyrics stuck in his head. "Raindrops are falling on my head. And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed. Nothing seems to fit…"
Honestly, he felt those lyrics fit really well. The 'feet too big to fit' part at least. But he was no singer, so he didn't embarrass himself for too long.
However… It was absolutely worth it. So small, so faint, he could swear he saw a trace of a smile on Rhaella's lips. And that little thing made her beauty radiate a dozen times more.
Slowly, a few hours passed. Wylis even took a small nap there, and the Queen didn't move. Eventually, the rain started to approach its end, although the sky only appeared darker, ominous.
"Your Grace."
A visitor appeared, holding something long, wrapped in cloth.
"Ser Jaime." Queen Rhaella looked at the young blonde knight.
Jaime smiled brightly and turned to Wylis. "Ser Wylis, since the rain has stopped, and I have some time to spare. Would you do me the honor of a few passes with the blade? That is—if the Queen permits, of course."
"Right here?" Wylis asked.
Jaime shrugged. "Why not? But I'm afraid I couldn't find a blade for your size."
"That won't be necessary, Ser Jaime. I save the greatsword for killing. For a friendly spar? A simpler blade suits me just fine. Blunt, preferably—less mess that way."
"Just what I have brought." Jaime unwrapped the cloth-covered swords, two of them, the same size, but blunt for training. "Let us begin."
But Wylis peeled off his vest and tunic with a smirk first. "This is the only set I've got that actually fits. I'd rather not ruin them."
It was true, but also. It was an excuse to showcase his shredded, muscled, massive body to the beauty who was going to watch him spar. He had no shame anymore. He took pride in doing that.
Only then, he grabbed the sword, bare above his legs. He took a quick glance behind, as expected, the Queen's gaze was fully focused on him, her eyes as if frozen in place. That was usually the common reaction.
"Ready, Ser Jaime?"
Even Jaime was lost for a moment. Staring at Wylis' biscuit-like abs, each defined like they were carved. The chest had muscles that rippled when Wylis moved his arms, biceps thick enough to be his legs.
"Gods, Ser Wylis, you look mad. Like someone forged you for war and then forgot to stop," Jaime said in praise. "The recent scars suit you."
Wylis wasn't happy about the scars, however. They were recent, from the battle in the throne room. But Wylis didn't consider them to be inflicted by the Kingsguards. No, the King inflicted those on him.
"Ready?" Wylis asked, voice deep and calm.
Jaime nodded. "As I'll ever be."
Woosh!
Wylis moved first, his feet splashing some rainwater puddled in the grassy ground—no feint, no flourish, just a clean, brutal overhead strike.
Jaime barely sidestepped in time, feeling the air shudder from the swing, which was audible. The ground where the blade landed cracked slightly, dirt spraying up.
"Gods! You're a beast in flesh!" Jaime exclaimed.
Jaime was more measured and flowed left, then right, probing with quick, precise jabs. His feet moved fast, like dancing.
Clank! Clank!
Wylis took some steps back and parried them like swatting flies, responding with wide arcs that threatened to take Jaime's head off. The sound of metal meeting metal rang sharp in the air.
"You're not slow," Jaime panted, backing off a few steps. "For your size."
"I'm not supposed to be," Wylis replied, coming at him again—this time with a low sweep aimed at Jaime's legs.
Jaime jumped back, boots sliding in the wet mud. It was noticeable. Jaime was watching now, studying. How to counter a man who far exceeded him in size and strength, and didn't lack much in speed.
Wylis seemed to lead with strength. Overcommitted slightly. Jaime ducked under a shoulder-high swing and countered with a slash toward Wylis' ribs.
Clang!
Wylis blocked it with a twist of his wrist, using the blade as a shield.
He's learning in real time.
Wylis was amazed by Jaime's skills. The young knight was learning and implementing changes. He could already see a proud future ahead for him.
Clash! Clash!
They locked blades. Jaime grunted as pressure pushed against him. It was like trying to brace against a charging horse. He could counter some attacks, but countering Wylis' strength was hard.
Jaime danced backward. His breaths were coming faster. He feinted a thrust, dropped low, and tried a cut to the thigh.
Wylis turned his hips, throwing his leg back, avoided the strike, and sent Jaime sprawling with a hard strike on the chest with the hilt of his sparring sword.
"You alright?" Wylis asked, sword lowered.
Jaime spat dust. "I'm learning."
Jaime got back up and surged forward.
This time, Jaime didn't aim for strikes that would fail against pure strength. He turned his speed into leverage—sidestepping and landing quick blows to Wylis' flank. Wylis hummed, adjusting himself, but Jaime could see the rhythm shift.
Jaime stayed close, too close for Wylis' full swings, moving like water around a rock.
Seeing through that, Wylis surged forward with a knee strike that hit Jaime's thigh plate. Jaime stumbled sideways, off balance for a heartbeat. And that was enough, Wylis closed in the gap and disarmed the Kingsguard with a brutal hand twist. Jaime's sword fell down from his grip.
"Your mistake is that you only think with your sword," Wylis said.
And before Jaime could get any ideas, Wylis pressed the flat side of his blade against his throat. If it were a real sword, it was over for the young knight.
Jaime stared up, panting, chest heaving in his armor. Then he laughed.
"That'll do it."
Wylis stepped back, helping Jaime stand straight.
"I figured something out by the end," Jaime said. "Fight the mountain, not the mountain's strength. I'll need to be faster to land a good blow on you."
Wylis gave him a grin. "Next time, try harder."
Jaime smirked. "Next time, I won't wear the armor."
True, the Kingsguard armor likely reduced Jaime's speed to some degree.
"But I can see it now. No doubt, you beat them clean—fast and sharp, like you've eyes in the back of your head. Gods, you're gifted, Ser Wylis."
Wylis was, indeed, gifted. But he wasn't deluded enough to believe what Jaime said. "Those three were still holding back, Ser Jaime. They weren't going full tilt. Sure, they meant to kill, but they gave me space to work. If they were serious? I'd be meat in the dirt."
"Cutting down a promising knight like you? When it's three against one? That would've been ugly work, Ser Wylis. I'm glad they had the decency to think twice."
"But where'd they vanish off to?" asked Wylis. "Haven't seen Ser Gerold and Ser Arthur since the clash."
Jaime finished tying the training swords in the cloth, prepared to head back. "Haven't seen them myself either. Last I heard, Prince Rhaegar sent them off on some errand. Might be going himself. Seven knows what for. Not like they'd tell me—too green, I guess."
It's starting! I gotta dig it all tonight, no matter what.
Wylis' jaw clenched hard.
"And Wylis…" Ser Jaime suddenly stepped closer and spoke in a lower voice, all the while giving Queen Rhaella a glance. "The King burned a nobleman in the court today."
"..."
Wylis became speechless. The implication of that was grave. He, too, looked at Rhaella, seated peacefully.
Pat!
Jaime patted his shoulder. "It'll burn your blood, Ser Wylis. Don't let it get the better of you. She's the one who suffers the most—we just stand outside and listen."
With that, the young knight left.
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