"Can't we go to the Godswood?"
Elia Martell sighed and shook her head. "No, sweetling. We cannot. Outside is full of men who would hurt us."
"Even Wylis?"
Elia sighed. The interactions between Wylis and Rhaenys had been rare and few, and yet, somehow, they had left a deep impact on Rhaenys' mind. She still remembered Wylis' name and often spoke about him. Perhaps it was his height. Or perhaps, his face.
"Ser Wylis is…" Elia measured her words, not wanting to ruin the memory for her daughter. She couldn't tell her that her father was going to face Wylis in the field. "Out there as well."
The little girl sighed. She hadn't been able to leave Maegor's Holdfast in weeks now. The guards always stopped her and her mother. And since the only kid there close to her age was Viserys, she preferred to stay in the room.
"Come here, Rhaenys." Elia softly called for her. Her heart felt heavy. She knew she was a hostage in all but name, meant to bind Dorne to the Mad King's cause. Her children bore the weight of it as well. Rhaegar had gone to war without a word to her, without a glance for his own blood. Once she had loved him, now she wondered if he had ever truly loved her.
Rhaenys climbed into the bed and lay her head on her mother's lap. "Will you tell a story?"
Elia brushed a strand of hair from her daughter's face. "The warrior-queen, Nymeria? If that is what you wish, so it shall be."
That was their usual day. Boredom for the children, and worry for the mother.
Knock! Knock!
Normally, nobody opened the door without her permission. But this time it did, and that meant the visitor was socially above her.
"Your Grace." Elia got off the bed quickly, greeting Queen Rhaella.
Rhaella gracefully walked into the room. She looked tired, her expression grave. "Princess Elia."
The Queen approached the bed and sat down, taking the little sleeping Aegon into her arms. She wasn't that close with Elia, as Aerys had general distrust towards her and Dorne. Careful for her own well-being, she had maintained distance. Yet, she cherished her grandchildren.
"The battle will be fought at the Trident," Rhaella revealed, aware that Elia was a prisoner and not privy to any information anymore. "Our numbers are greater."
"You do not sound certain," Elia asked back sharply.
Rhaella sighed and looked down. For some reason, she felt conscious of the dark blue injury mark on her shoulder, even if it was covered by the gown. "I have reasons to be. My son is unmatched, but his mind was clouded before he left. The best of the Kingsguards are nowhere to be found. And the enemy has better commanders. Robert Baratheon, Eddard Stark, Hoster Tully, Jon Arryn, Wyman Manderly—"
"And Ser Wylis?"
Rhaella abruptly looked up at Elia. But she quickly looked away, realizing it was Elia's test to see her reaction.
"He is a capable commander," Rhaella said softly. "One of the finest among them, I fear. He has not lost a battle since his rise… and he has already bested my son once."
For Rhaella, it was a troubling matter. The young man she was fond of was also the same man who shattered her son's pride, shattered his teeth in a tourney before half the realm.
Elia exhaled audibly and caressed her long, dark hair falling over her shoulders. She was nervous. She had every reason to be. "W-We… can only pray."
"If…" Rhaella continued. "If things go ill… His Grace will send me to Dragonstone, with Viserys and the child I carry. You must stay wary, Elia. Guard yourself, guard Aegon and Rhaenys. H-He won't let you leave. He will keep you here, to bind Dorne, until the very end."
Elia didn't know what the very end meant. And that uncertainty scared her.
"I… will, Your Grace."
Rhaella nodded and got up to leave. She placed Aegon back on the bed and moved towards the door. But she paused for once and looked behind. "They call him Ser Wylis Kaiser now. He has claimed a family name."
Elia curiously looked at the Queen, wondering what that word meant. "That word... Kaiser... I have never heard it spoken in all my life."
"Never have I, Princess Elia."
"Why do you favor Ser Wylis, Your Grace?"
Rhaella frowned. That was too direct. Nonetheless, she answered before leaving for good.
"Because he shows more decency than most men I've been forced to endure in my life."
"..."
Elia was left speechless. She had no expectations, and yet she was startled.
####
Harrenhal,
"The armies... have they gathered? Are you certain? How many?" asked Rhaegar Targaryen. "How many swords? The Boggs... have they come? And the Tyrells, where are they?"
Ser Barristan warily looked to his left, at Ser Jonothor Darry, and then at Prince Lewyn Martell. They were the only three Kingsguard with Prince Rhaegar. And they were the only ones who got to see the Prince's condition. His blabbering behavior. His paranoid eyes.
The three men were all too aware of who else had those.
"They're all here, Your Grace. We number forty thousand strong. All that remains is to march north and bring the rebels to heel," said Ser Jonothor Darry.
"Yes, yes, our numbers are great, are they not? Great and terrible. Mighty, yes, mighty." Rhaegar stood to his feet, his night-black plate armor cluttered with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen decorated in rubies on its breastplate.
"Send word. We march now. We march and kill them, traitors all. Every last one. We shall cut them all down. All of them."
The three Kingsguards merely nodded. They suppressed all their doubts and fears. They chose to do their duty without asking any questions.
"We'll likely face them near the Trident river, Your Grace." Ser Barristan said.
"Yes… Yes, the river will run red with their blood," Rhaegar roared, and wore his helmet. "That pretender Robert's blood, Stark blood, Tully, Arryn… all of them."
"..."
No more words were spoken.
####
Harroway Town, Riverlands,
The newly proclaimed King of the Seven Kingdoms had made the seat of House Roote his new camp. The town sat along the river Trident, and closest to the place they were most likely to meet the Targaryen host.
But it was night, and because of the lack of cunts to sheath his cock in, Robert Baratheon drowned his throat in wine.
He was drunk and in pain; he'd recently fallen off his horse, leaving his already healing body wounded once again. But the spirits were still high, and Robert was ready to storm into the battle.
Yet, Eddard and Wylis saw it. Robert was drowning the pain of his injury with the wine. And in Wylis' defense, he had no hand in Robert falling off his horse. Wylis was already satisfied with the injured Robert. As long as the man wasn't at his peak, there was room. But now, with Robert more injured, the threat that Robert might end up dying in the battle became real.
"That'll do, Robert. We fight at dawn."
"Bah, enough of it, Ned! The wine still makes me strong, stronger than half these whelps. Gods, is there no whore in this cursed town worth the gold? Not one?" Robert muttered as he tipped the cup to his mouth.
Wylis sighed when he saw Eddard looking at him. What was he supposed to do when Robert didn't even listen to his own best friend?
"Robert, let's make a bet." Wylis chose to take a different approach. "Whoever fells the most of those loyalist dogs owes the other a favor."
Bam!
"Hah! Now that's the sound of a man," Robert bellowed, slamming his cup down. "We'll do it, Wylis, by the Gods. I'll strip you bare in my hall and let the women gape. I swear Lord Roote's wife near drooled at you, like some tavern wench."
"..."
That was a suggestion he wasn't expecting. And honestly, he was so confident that he didn't even see it as a bad deal. If anything, half the realm would talk about how muscular and mighty Ser Wylis is and how his cock's no less than a python.
"Then it's agreed," Wylis said, clasping Robert's hand firmly. He raised his cup and emptied it in one draught. "I'll get some sleep now. After all, I fight for my honor come morning."
"Bah, I'll find my bed too." Robert heaved himself up, swaying until Wylis caught him. "You two, Ned, Wylis... Seven hells, I'm blessed to have the both of you."
"Alright now, get some damn sleep. Don't you go about stroking your cock, fancying us two men." Wylis japed.
Robert howled with laughter. "Haha—After winning tomorrow, I might just do that."
"..."
Wylis and Eddard walked the new King to his bedchamber.
Although Harroway Town was small, it still had plenty of decent buildings. With a seven-sided sept, a two-story inn, a stone round tower, and many smaller buildings, it was one of the decent towns that just didn't get to become a city.
They and a few of the higher nobles had taken up residence at the two-story inn.
After settling Robert, Wylis went to his little room. He would have normally been made to sleep in a tent outside the town amongst the others, but as Robert's confidant and one of the battle commanders, he received a room. Even that was a lot, as most lords shared theirs. Wylis was just too big to share it comfortably with anyone.
Creak!
He opened the door to his small room in the inn and walked inside. The room was already lit with a few candles. Wylis quickly locked the door and removed his tunic, trousers, and got butt-naked.
Finally, he turned towards the bed and smirked.
"Let's keep the noise low, Lady Roote."
______________________
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