From the ground, a tiny, barely visible pebble rose in the air and struck Rhaegar's horse hard on its rear near the hind legs. It struck so hard that a red, bleeding wound formed.
The horse whinnied madly.
BAM!
The horse reacted as any and kicked backward with both its hind legs.
Thud!
The metallic clank was so loud that it echoed throughout the stands and the field. The roaring crowds fell silent right away, gasps were audible. It all happened so fast, it was shocking.
But not for Wylis. To him, it all felt slow.
Come on… Get up!
Rhaegar Targaryen fell from his horse, backwards, rolling over the horseback, landing right on his face.
For a moment, Wylis froze, wondering if the damage was too much.
Don't pass out.
And then, the dark armor moved. Rhaegar Targaryen raised his head first, and then got up on one knee, before slowly getting up fully.
Once more, loud gasps resounded. The Prince's face was bleeding, his nose looked twisted, and his mouth especially, looked like a waterfall of blood.
"Uhhhh~" Rhaegar groaned loudly, and at last, his eyes widened. He touched his lips and opened his mouth wide, trying to feel his front, upper teeth. There were none.
Wylis smiled behind his visor and then hardened his expression. He raised the visor and looked at Cersei in the crowd. The girl was smiling ear to ear, nodding nonstop. Even Lyanna was chuckling, hiding her mouth behind her hand.
What about the King?
Wylis eyed the Mad King and sure enough, the crazed man was grinning all the same. Even more, the man showed real pleasure through his bright eyes, relishing his own son's misery.
"My Prince!" Wylis shouted and jumped off his horse, rushing towards the Toothless Dragon.
A few Kingsguards also rushed into the field, dragging a Maester along. But they blocked Wylis from approaching.
"No-oh!" Rhaegar roared suddenly.
Duel? Seriously?
"Wylis… W-ylis-shhh." Rhaegar pushed aside the Kingsguard and walked towards Wylis, extending his arm. "You-uh… are the fh-inest fighter I've ever met."
The eyes don't match what the mouth is saying. What a two-faced little shit.
There was rage in the Prince's eyes. There was shame and embarrassment. No doubt, Wylis had messed up Rhaegar's plans more than the Mad King.
"Thank you, Your Grace."
Pat! Pat!
Rhaegar patted Wylis' arm and left the jousting field on foot. The Kingsguard and the Maester ran after the Prince.
While all that chaos was happening, Wylis looked down and saw something interesting. He knowingly dropped a fastening hook from his armor and knelt to pick it up. But what he picked up was Rhaegar Targaryen's broken teeth, a total of three.
Great souvenir.
Then, he returned to his horse and mounted it. Right then, a young Stark soldier came running and handed him a beautiful crown made of red roses. He also handed his helmet to the man, ensuring everyone saw his handsome mug.
Since she gave me one, let's return the favor.
At first, he wanted to crown Lyanna as his Queen of Love and Beauty, his right as the champion of the joust. But then he'd ruin his relationship with Robert and Lord Stark. There was no need to do that as he planned to save her anyway. But in the case of Cersei, imprinting a noble, knightly, masculine image in the future queen's mind was far more valuable.
Amidst the intense cheers of the crowds, many stood up to clap, Wylis rode his horse proudly to the edge of the stands beyond which Cersei was seated. She was still young, perhaps two years younger than him. But her beauty had sprouted like a forever-blooming flower. Although her personality was vile, Wylis told himself that this was just for her beauty.
"My Lady." He called for her attention and received it completely. She was already blushing since all eyes in the entire field were on her. "It wasn't just the fight I won—it was your favor that lit the fire. Please, accept my desire to crown you as my Queen of Love and Beauty."
Cersei extended her slender arm and took the crown made of fresh roses. It seemingly made her happy as she went as far as putting it on her head. It earned her loud cheers from all.
But then, Cersei looked in her palm as she'd felt something more handed over to her. A faint look and a wide, somewhat evil grin curved on her pretty face. It was a single, bloody tooth. Of whom, she didn't need to be told.
"Thank you, Wylis."
Wylis bowed his head subtly and turned his horse around.
"Wylis of Winterfell! Present yourself to the King!"
Abruptly, a loud shout echoed. All lips stopped moving and all heads turned towards the King's high seat. Aerys Targaryen was standing. The one who shouted was Ser Gerold Hightower.
Is it happening?
A little bit alarmed, and somewhat excited, he rushed his horse close to the edge from where Aerys was in direct line of sight. Then Wylis got off his horse and took to one knee, saluting the king.
"Delightful, boy! Truly delightful!" Aerys rasped, fingers twitching as he laughed too long. Then, to everyone's astonishment, he clapped—once, twice, sharp as whip cracks. "I expected little from this farce of a feast, but you… oh, you've lit a spark in me. Entertained me, yes. Impressed me, perhaps. And made me crave. Dragons hoard rare things, you know. Rare… and flammable."
What's he trying to say? Wylis felt an ominous chill.
"Ahhh, so Lord Stark keeps his treasures buried in snow and ice. A clever boy, are you? No matter—I shall unearth you. Yes, yes, I shall anoint you, here and now. The realm will remember this day—"
Really? It can't be that easy.
"Swear to House Targaryen, and ride in my name, Wylis of Winterfell. Win their petty tourneys, crush their boasts. When you triumph, they shall say the King has won. When they praise you, it shall be my glory. Their applause shall be mine. Their awe, my inheritance. Speak—will you serve your true king, or do you nurse treason behind that northern tongue?"
What the—What is this mad fuck saying? So he wants a fucking toy? A tourney toy? Wait, what if I lose? Burned in a wildfire? No thanks.
But it wasn't easy to refuse the King and get away with it. And if he annoyed the man now, it'd become impossible to enter King's Landing as long as the man lived.
"Words cannot describe how proud I feel from your praise, Your Grace. You stood up, you praised me, a lowly stableboy—I am moved. The tales of your kindness to us smallfolk were no lies, Your Grace. I see it now... why you're loved like you are." Wylis babbled on, all humility and praises for the King, talking about how he'd throw his life away for the mad bastard.
Aerys, as expected, ate it up. If it were a noble, he'd have dismissed it, but from a lowly stableboy, every word sounded real enough.
Before Aerys could get annoyed, Wylis got to the point.
"This is my first time beyond Winterfell, Your Grace. I've long dreamt of seeing King's Landing. I—I want to be a knight—not just in name, but in deed. To serve you proper. Still, I've not done anything great yet. That bothers me. I need to prove I'm worth the title. Win something grand enough to lay at your feet."
The King sneered for a moment, looking furious. But then a devilish smile crept on his lips. He stroked his beard and nodded. "Very well. Bring me one hundred bandits. That shall be enough."
Knowing Aerys' personality, Wylis raised his head towards the King and asked like a mad worshipper. "May I bring them dead or alive, Your Grace?"
Aerys matched Wylis' madness with his gleaming, violet eyes. He showed an ugly, filthy grin. "Beheaded—Bring me a hundred bandit heads!"
"I shall do it, Your Grace." Wylis bowed his head with full confidence.
"Marvelous! Just as I foresaw, boy! Let all the lords and leeches hear it—Wylis of Winterfell walks the realm unshackled! Let him cleave the heads of bandits like wheat at harvest. Any man who bars his path has defied me—And the penance for treason… oh, they shall taste fire."
Enough said, the King turned and left the stands.
Wylis let out a sigh of relief. Dealing with the Mad King was more intense than any duel or joust.
He almost had me, fuck! And a hundred bandits? It shouldn't be hard to find, right?
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