Aerys eyed his Kingsguard, and then Brandon. With a bright gleam in his gaze, Aerys nodded strongly. "Mmm, yesss... my Kingsguard, clever, cleverer than the Hand ever was, aren't you? My bright blades in white! Hah!—Beautiful, my champion will return to me. Yes, the pup shall be a fine bait. Black cells! Throw him in the Black Cells, starve him, no—feed him just enough to hear his bones rattle! And then… hah! I shall have my champion slay the pup—Mm… A gift for my eyes! A gift!"
"Understood, Your Grace." Ser Barristan wasted no time and lent his shoulder to Brandon Stark, leading him out of the throne room.
Brandon was in a momentary shock, however. Whatever Barristan had said was bullshit. Sure, he and Wylis were close, but they were just good friends, nothing close to being brothers as Barristan had described. Wylis had no reason to come and save him.
"W-Why?"
"Shh..." Barristan whispered. "If you want to live, be silent."
####
Tower of Joy, Dorne.
"Ser Wylis! There!"
Wylis stopped roasting the meat and quickly crawled prone in the dirt. He slid beside Qyburn and looked over the ridge. They didn't use the far-eye, knowing it'd reflect light. But still, the movement was clear.
Three men riding horses, dressed in the noble attire of the Kingsguard. They escorted a walled carriage which was being steered by what looked like a Septa by her attire, and a Maester by the chains around his neck.
It was impossible to hear them, but just looking at them made Wylis furious. He didn't respect the Kingsguard already, but now, he couldn't give a shit. For fuckers so stuck up on honor and duty, ignoring Rhaella's screams, were now acting as kidnappers for the fucking prince.
"Lyanna," Wylis muttered when he saw the dark-haired woman get pulled out of the carriage. Another Septa was with her, holding her arm, as if keeping her from running. Lyanna seemed furious, shouting at them, but also appeared weak, walking limply, her belly swollen.
"Heavily with child," Qyburn commented. "A curious choice, dragging her so far in that condition. Risky—for both mother and babe."
Hearing that, Wylis only felt angrier. He watched the two Septa take Lyanna into the tower, followed by the Maester. The three Kingsguards stood at the tower's entrance, guarding. One look and he knew who they were. Ser Arthur, Ser Gerold, and Ser Oswell Whent.
"Fetch me the chipped armor piece and that cloth from King's Landing," Wylis ordered. "Stay put and keep watch. If anyone else approaches the tower, signal me with the mirror. The rest is mine to handle."
"All by yourself? They appear quite formidable, Ser Wylis."
Wylis crawled back and stood up. He didn't have a full plated armor, just some padded gambeson, chainmail, and shoulder pauldrons. He had a helmet, but he didn't plan to use it in that fight. He didn't plan on making it a fair fight either. The rebellion had started, and he couldn't afford an injury. Besides, honor was a distant concept to the three Kingsguards.
"Aye, they're strong. Shame, they stand against me," Wylis said, and reached for his new six-foot blade. Sleek, golden at the guard and pommel, the brown leather grip molded to his hand. It was lighter than his last sword, sharper too.
Finally, he packed the chipped armor piece and the cloth in the saddle pouch and then mounted Caliburn.
"Start packing. Tonight, we take shelter in the Tower of Joy. From there, go to Vulture's Roost and stay out of sight until she gives birth. After that… we move as the winds allow."
With that order, he rode away. First, he went down the mountain, going around it before reaching the flatter lands. From there, he began riding towards the Tower of Joy. It was the middle of the day, the sun was at its peak, and the summer had begun to show its wrath as sweat poured out of his winter-loving body.
####
Ready to fight already?
Wylis neared the Tower of Joy and noticed the three men stopped relaxing. Ser Gerold and Ser Whent wore their helmets, one hand on their sheathed swords' hilts. Ser Arthur was relaxed, however, standing between the two men.
With a lengthy, powerful grunt from Caliburn, Wylis came to a halt and dismounted his horse. With his sword hanging on his back over the cape, he casually walked towards the rising, hilly path of the tower. Between two boulders where the path became narrow, the three Kingsguards stood in wait.
"North is that way, Ser Wylis." Ser Oswell Whent pointed towards the North with his finger in a mocking tone.
Wylis chuckled and eyed the three men with disgust. "I know."
"Then why are you here?" Ser Gerold asked.
Wasting no time, Wylis grabbed the sword from his back. "Found you left King's Landing without me. I couldn't resist chasing after the realm's most admired Kingsguards. There's much to learn from you three—like kidnapping."
Scrrrrr~
Ser Gerold and Ser Whent unsheathed their swords. Ser Arthur finally put on his helmet and grabbed his famed, pale sword.
"Turn back now, boy," Ser Gerold said, voice like cold iron. "We showed mercy once. You'll find none today."
"Really?" Wylis wiped the smile off his face and held his massive sword in front, both hands on the grip. "You sure it was you showing mercy?"
The three knights chuckled at the same time.
Wylis didn't and took a few steps back to make some space. He eyed the three, their feet, to see who would attack him first. He was sure they'd go one by one at the start, but join in if he was winning.
"One last time—leave this behind. You've skill, speed, and time yet to grow," Ser Arthur advised him. "Walk away from this royal mess. This royal game… it taints better men than us."
Wylis scoffed. "How would you feel, Ser Arthur, if I said I took your sister to my bedchamber and fucked her, took her maidenhead, made her mine in every way a man can?"
"Hah!" Ser Whent chortled.
Ser Arthur sneered.
Ser Gerold waved one hand, seemingly dismissing what Wylis had just said. "Why drag Ser Arthur into this? Lyanna is no sister of yours."
"Aye, but she is…" Wylis raised his sword in a striking position. "...the mother of my child—Ha!"
Wylis lunged forward and smashed his blade at Ser Arthur. He was faster now, at the peak of his physical state, and also, he had no reason to hold back anything.
CLANK!
Ser Arthur quickly blocked the incoming strike. But he gnawed his teeth, feeling pushed back by the monstrous strength in Wylis' strike. He felt his palm turn sore from the vibrations, and to his further shock, he found his feet stuck to the ground.
"HAAAA!" Wylis launched a contentious barrage of attacks, a sideways slash following the first strike, then an upward swipe from the lower side. He used the chance every time Ser Arthur stumbled backwards, his feet not really working as he desired.
BAM!
Clash!
Steel rang against steel. From the onset, Wylis proved his power over the Kingsguard. He used his massive height and the reach of his long arms and blade to his advantage. Ser Arthur couldn't even counter him that well.
"I have no intention of mercy!" Wylis roared, continuously cutting, countering, and blocking, gaining an inch each time, a chance to kill the man for good. He had to aim as the man was well-armed. "An equal fight? That's for those who carry honor—I see no honor here."
Ser Arthur was on the back foot from the beginning. Earning a flickering moment, he glanced towards Ser Gerold and Ser Whent. But it appeared, for some reason, the two Kingsguards were ankle-deep in the dirt. They were struggling, using their swords to dig the soil around their feet.
"Shocked?" Wylis grumbled and…
THUD!
Wylis slammed his right foot into the dirt and used Earthbending. As Ser Arthur tried to take a step back, he felt the dirt was too soft. He lost balance and started falling backwards.
"Too many eyes watched us in that damn throne room." Wylis coldly watched the famed Knight fall on his back. "Here, I have no reason to hide—For none will live to tell the tale."
"Argh!"
Ser Arthur tried to get up, but before he could even move, he found his sword swallowed by earth, and then both his feet and arms, holding him flat on the ground. The dirt that had grown softer turned hard as stone.
"W-What sorcery is this?!" Ser Whent shouted from the side.
Wylis didn't look at them and aimed his blade at Ser Arthur's neck, the gap between the helmet and the chest armor. He pressed the tip of his sword there, ready to press down and kill.
Creak!
But then, Wylis also pressed one foot on Ser Arthur's chest, and then the other foot, putting his entire body weight on the chest, caving that armor with it.
"Gaaaah!" Ser Arthur groaned.
"Kingsguards my ass. You men have no honor." Wylis growled at them with hatred, his sharp tongue aimed at the entire order. "All that claim of honor and duty, yet all I see is cowardice in a golden shell. You, the same cunts who turned your heads while the King ravaged Rhaella, now claim honor in kidnapping a pregnant woman—my woman! Fucking filth in gold—You abandoned real duty the day you started serving madness."
"We serve the Prince!" voiced Ser Gerold from the side, now knee-deep stuck in the dirt.
"And that changes anything?" Wylis growled at them. "While the father sits on the throne and burns half the realm in madness. The son chases prophecies and some promised prince nonsense—I see no Prince, just the madness draped in a younger shell—I'll end it. I'll kill Rhaegar, and then I'll kill Aerys—After you three."
Shhh~
"Glurk… Ghk… Gaaaahk~"
Wylis mercilessly dipped his blade into Ser Arthur's throat. Smooth as a hot knife on butter, piercing through the skin and the windpipe, drawing blood like a boiling pot of crimson. The famed Knight of the Morning choked on his own blood, coughed crimson from his mouth, and was helplessly held down by his arms and feet.
"Anger? Helplessness? Lyanna must have felt the same."
In mere moments, Ser Arthur died.
Wylis pulled his blade out and turned towards Ser Gerold and Ser Whent. The two men were now waist-deep stuck in the earth. The more they tried to move, the more they lodged deep.
Clank!
Wylis swung his sword like a bat and smashed into Ser Whent's sword. The man couldn't hold onto the grip, and the sword went flying. Before Ser Whent could even speak, Wylis had once again dug his blade into the knight's throat.
All that time, Wylis stared at Ser Gerold. "I find no joy in this. But I have battles to fight. A rebellion to join. And I won't waste my blood or breath on filth like you."
Woosh!
He pulled his blade out of Ser Whent's throat with a bloody splatter.
Ser Gerold released his sword on his own. He looked up at Wylis, eyes proud, no shame or regret in them. The man believed in what he did, even if it was madness.
"What is this?" Ser Gerold asked, looking around himself at the dirt that had now solidified.
"A gift," Wylis said, steady as he leveled the blade at the man's throat. "And when the light fades—remember this: you died without honor. For abducting a pregnant woman so your master could defile her later. Remember that."
"Gh-lurk…"
Just like the previous two, Ser Gerold choked on his own blood and died a slow death. Wylis kept repeating, reminding the dying man of his crime.
______________________
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