The battle of the Trident reached a point of no return. A retreat was no longer possible for any side as the toll of all the blood in that ford was too heavy. All the dead bodies there marked an orphan, a widow, or a son gone.
"Let us do it, Ser Wylis." Eddard Stark solemnly nodded.
He couldn't deny it even if he wanted to. A strange, almost magical air surrounded Wylis' tall, blood-soaked frame. He felt it, like the man before him wasn't his lesser, but superior.
"Thank you for trusting me, Lord Stark. I will pave my way towards Rhaegar. Hold Ser Barristan back from lending him strength."
Yet again, Eddard found himself nodding. Was it because of Wylis' undefeatable presence on the battlefield? Was there something more to it? Was it that blood-drenched sword? Was it the confidence?
Eddard was clear about one thing. He had doubts about the tall man. Half the realm saw Wylis as a simple giant sword-swinging man. But Eddard saw through it. There was grand ambition in those blue eyes. Each battle won was like a calculated move. He had doubts about Wylis' intentions. But he couldn't prove it.
"For Robert," Eddard said and galloped away with his men.
####
Eddard Stark… Still as rigid as ever.
Wylis watched the Lord of Winterfell ride away. He wasn't a fool to not notice the signs of mistrust. Eddard Stark didn't like him, apparently, and it was understandable. Of all the Starks, Wylis had the least interaction with Eddard, thanks to his fostering in the Vale. Yet, somehow, in such a short amount of time, he'd gained a place equal to Eddard's in Robert's inner circle.
Doesn't matter. He'll be begging me for aid once I've lands to lord over.
After all, it was true. Wylis did have grand plans and ambitions.
"You look tired, my friend." Wylis caressed Caliburn's mane. "Just a little more. I'll treat you to top-quality carrots."
"Neighehe!"
Wylis chuckled at the reaction. It wasn't that the horse understood him. It just knew carrots meant the juicy, yummy stuff.
He gripped the lengthy sword high and turned his horse towards Rhaegar's direction. For now, nobody had tried to come near him, being surrounded by so many dead bodies. But the path towards Rhaegar was filled with royalist men. An unspoken circle of protection had formed around the roaring, sword-swinging prince.
"Lord Grandison!" He shouted towards the nearest ally he could see. A Stormlands lord who used to be a royalist but was beaten by Robert in the battle of Summerhall and turned to the rebel side. "Can you still fight?"
The man, not that young, was injured and bleeding from his waist. But he was still on the horse, holding his sword.
"Ser Wylis… Uh… Gods have damned me. The wound runs too deep. But I'll fight till my last breath."
Wylis nodded and pointed towards Rhaegar. "I'm aiming for the crown. I'll spear through them, but I'll need you to cover my tail."
Lord Grandison's eyes sparkled. At his deathbed, this was the last chance to leave behind a glorious legacy. The lord who aided Ser Wylis in killing Prince Rhaegar. It wasn't grand, but it was worth being remembered.
"By my own blood, Ser, not a soul shall scratch your back. Gods bear me witness, I'll see it so. Lead the way."
Wylis didn't waste time and picked up the pace, taking an arrowhead formation. Behind him, Lord Grandison and his men followed just as fiercely.
Clank!
"Aaaaargh!"
Wylis thrust his sword forward, preserving his energy by not using Earthbending. Robert's absence had already derailed too many things. He couldn't afford to exhaust himself before taking Rhaegar down.
Thud!
Men fell in front of him; some were trampled by Caliburn's violent rush. Still, some earthbending was necessary to maintain the element of surprise. He had to deal with the spear-wielding soldiers as their reach threatened him and the horse.
"Go, Ser Wylis! We'll keep them back!" Lord Grandison shouted. "End him, in all our names!"
On that field, for the rebelling side, Wylis was a source of confidence. He was Wylis the undefeated, the one commander in that army who'd never lost a battle. Lord Grandison felt the same.
Wylis changed his sword hand, raised the long blade high, and grabbed the horse's reins with the other hand. He could see Rhaegar Targaryen right ahead, shouting commands like a crazed man and slashing around. The ford was shallow there; a large tree was nearby.
"Out of my way!" Wylis roared at the men who dared to come in his way. The newly gained ability of Battle Aura was still active. His body still surged through with thirty percent higher strength.
Splash! Splash!
Caliburn raced ahead.
Wylis leaned forward, his grip tightening on the reins and the sword's hilt. His ears were deafened to the sound of blades clanking around him. His eyes, through the slit in his helmet, focused on just one man, standing out the most in that black as night plate armor.
Clop! Clop!
The shallow part of the ford started.
This is it!
Rhaegar Targaryen still hadn't seen him in all that chaos, too occupied with those near him. The helmet restricted his field of view.
Almost there!
Hopes of the future flashed inside Wylis's head. His dream of holding lands and a castle to his name. Lordship to his title. This was it, the final moment.
"Rhaegar Targaryen!" He roared at the top of his lungs once he was a few gallops away. He didn't want to be known for stabbing the prince in the back. "Face your death!"
"Protect the Prince!"
"Stop the giant!"
The men surrounding Rhaegar tried to interfere.
Grrrr~
But Wylis used Earthbending on them, using the most energy-efficient means, earth spikes.
"Wylis!" Rhaegar Targaryen quickly moved his horse around.
But it was too late.
Woosh!
Ser Wylis of Winterfell, the giant that rode that day, flew in the air. A leap from the back of the horse, so high, fast, and long, the massive six-foot sword held in a strike pose with the might of both hands.
"Haaaaaa!" Wylis leapt past the heads of the Crownlands' knights who tried to protect the prince. He lunged past their last defense and, before the prince could react, connected.
BAAAAAM!
He slammed his sword like a bat, both hands on the hilt. He struck and connected with strength that could shatter boulders, let alone a man who was a true dragon only in his delusions.
Tink-tink-tink!
"Gaaaaaah!" Rhaegar howled with a blood-curdling groan.
Wylis's blade smashed into Rhaegar's breastplate so hard that it visibly caved in from the blunt force, chipping the sword's edge. The three-headed dragon decoration made of rubies shattered and scattered everywhere, shining like glitter before falling into the water.
The metallic echo was so loud that it could be heard even amidst the chaos.
Splash!
Thud!
Prince Rhaegar fell hard to the ground, on his back, wriggling, rolling side to side as his caved armor became his prison.
Wylis landed right beside him.
"Get to your feet!" Wylis growled, circling the prince like a wolf. "Fight, or I'll carve you open where you lie."
"Aaah… ugh… you… I… I will…!" Prince Rhaegar groaned from the blood-soaked water and attempted to stand up. He still had his sword in hand and used it for support. "You will answer… for everything… every last thing…"
"For what? Breaking your teeth?" Wylis mocked him, watching him feebly stand like he was already crippled. "It must have been a delight. When that mad cunt of your father had me fight like a court jester. Made me bleed against three Kingsguards. Must have made you clap like some insane twat."
"Wraaaaaagh!"
Rhaegar rushed towards Wylis, dragging his longsword's tip from the ground and raising it for a strike.
"Pathetic!" Wylis blocked the prince with ease, clattering his blade. He smashed back so hard that Rhaegar lost the grip of his blade.
Splash!
The sword fell.
"Pick it up!" Wylis held back again and pivoted on his heels abruptly. He stabbed like a spear and impaled the royalist who tried to attack him from behind, a knight of some worth, now dead.
"Stand back!" Prince Rhaegar shouted just as he grabbed the sword again. "All of you… leave him… he's mine… I'll end this… myself…"
"Ambitious, I'll give you that. But ambition that can't be backed is just…" Wylis sneered and met the prince's blade. "Madness!"
Clank!
Wylis noticed how weak Rhaegar's strikes were. His initial strike on the chest had already done the damage. But there was something more. Rhaegar felt different, so impatient and foolish. The Rhaegar he knew would have called men for support if he couldn't stand. The Rhaegar he knew was honorable and intelligent.
Madness? Losing Lyanna must have done it.
It was plausible reasoning for Wylis. Losing Lyanna meant Rhaegar's prophetic dreams couldn't be fulfilled.
"Wraaaaah!"
Scrrrr!
Clank!
Their swords met each other, making music from steel. But the difference was visible to any eye that was watching. Where Wylis's movement was fluid, his reactions measured, Prince Rhaegar looked like a madman swinging the blade just for the sake of it. No rhythm, no control, just unchecked zeal.
"Protect the Prince!"
A few calls to aid the prince came. But Wylis dealt with them easily. Rhaegar was slow, even slowing down more with each movement. The pants, the groans were getting louder. That made it easy for Wylis to kill anyone who interrupted. Thanks to the nearby tree, he didn't need to focus on all sides, and Lord Grandison was nearby.
"Is that all, Rhaegar?" Wylis interrogated mockingly. "All your madness. Lifelong training. Should've never picked up a sword! Should've joined the whores with your damn harp, singing to men rutting."
"Silence! Silence! Just… silence!" Rhaegar lunged forward, screaming, not even roaring anymore. "It all… You ruined it all! You… the tourney… It's all you!"
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