The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 12 - Pillow Talk, Tunnel Rat & Queen's Healing I

A/N: I ended up writing too much. Almost 20k words. I wanted to write Wylis and Rhaella's interactions in detail. I think I wrote too many d

A/N: I ended up writing too much. Almost 20k words. I wanted to write Wylis and Rhaella's interactions in detail. I think I wrote too many details.

This chapter has no smut elements since I originally planned that for the end section.

I'll be posting another big chapter tomorrow, the Part 2 of this one, which Ms.Squirtle is editing right now. It will have the smut and also the conclusion of this Red Keep unofficial Queensguard arc.

Note: I'm not ignoring other stories. The day after tomorrow will be a new Dudley Dursley Story chapter. With the focus shifting towards Narcissa at last.

_______________

"Haaaah…" Wylis let out a big yawn as he got up from the tiny, creaking bed. 

The sheets were soaked, filthy, and smelling of sex. But the woman who had drained him dry wasn't there anymore. 

After an hour or two, Ashara had woken up, gotten dressed, and left his small bedchamber. He acted like he was sleeping, saving her from embarrassment. But then she leaned towards him and left a soft peck on his lips before leaving. 

It made him question what he was doing. But he found solace in the fact that he didn't put a babe in her. Ashara still had a future left, and if possible, he was going to ensure she didn't do something foolish like jumping off a cliff. 

"Time to report for duty." Wylis annoyedly wiped his face with some water, the candlelight nearby flickering, nearing its end. The sun hadn't risen, but his duty had begun. 

I didn’t risk my neck to be called "Ser" just to end up babysitting doors like a glorified sellsword.

Finally, he wore the provided set of clean clothes. A light, cream-colored tunic, breeches, and then a vest over it. Since he wasn't really a Kingsguard, nor a Gold Cloak, he had no reason to wear elaborate armor. Heck, even the tunic given to him was short, so he had to leave buttons open over his chest; the same applied to the vest. He also tore the sleeves so he could fold them up to his elbow. 

Giving himself some final touches, he wet his hair and pushed it back over his scalp, highlighting his features and that chiseled jaw more. Too bad, there was no mirror to appreciate his own beauty. 

Without a sword, he left the room and went upstairs. As expected, Jaime and Ser Jonothor Darry were already outside the Queen's locked bedchamber. Their eyes looked dull, tired from the night-long duty. They didn't stand there the entire night, but rather patrolled various parts of the Red Keep.

"Ser Jaime."

Jaime tiredly nodded and presented a set of two keys. "Gods be good, Ser Wylis. I was about to send a raven to wake you."

Wylis gave a dry chuckle as he took the keys. "Best you didn’t. I’d have made a fine meal of it."

Laughing, Jaime bid farewell and left with Ser Jonothor. After that, Wylis stood in front of the locked door like a wall in human form. His head almost reached the top of the doorframe, and although it was a double door, he covered three-fourths of it by just standing there. 

Now I wait. 

Wylis sighed, reminiscing about the old days—fights, drink, and a warm body afterward. 

What a boring job. What's so exciting about a Kingsguard? You're just a fucking uncastrated eunuch soldier. 

He yawned too many times, thought of poems in his head, and at times, Lyanna. By now, he had come to a conclusion. He wanted her, and he wanted to keep her forever. It was hard to find loyal friends you could be yourself with, banter around, and… sweat in bed together. Lyanna was everything in one package. 

As time went by, the various windows in the corridor started to reveal some morning sunlight. Moments later, it was all bright. Occasionally, he saw some patrolling Kingsguards, different ones as the shift had likely changed. 

And at last, he saw four modestly dressed women walk towards him. They were maids, clear by their attire. One held a filled bucket, one held a covered tray, one held a box, and another held various pieces of dusting and cleaning equipment.

"Ser Wylis." 

The four women bowed their heads to him. But unlike most, they didn't shake in fear or cower at all. It seemed his reputation had increased vastly. 

"To prepare Her Grace for the day?" He asked and nonchalantly stepped forward. "I’m to check each of you. Don't mind the touching, I mean no disrespect."

Acting like a noble, kind knight was the easiest way to win women. Especially lowborn women. So, he did just that. Besides, even if his size overwhelmed them, he had a pretty handsome face to focus on. 

Fuck! When will I get to eat some breakfast? 

Wylis looked at the covered tray by lifting the lid. It had various dishes, but he realized they were so unplanned and unbalanced as a diet. It was mostly fruits, and most of them were citrus fruits. Then there was some bread. No milk, surprisingly. 

Come to think of it, I’ve not seen a proper man or woman drink milk other than me.

Nonetheless, he checked the wooden box. It contained some makeup equipment. Then he checked the bucket of water, and then the dusting and cleaning equipment. At last, he asked them if he should pat their gowns to ensure they carried nothing hidden. 

"Please do." One of the women chirped right away, too excited for someone about to be groped by a man. 

She's liking this, isn't she? 

Ignoring that, he patted down all four women while they giggled and eyed him like a manwhore, which he strived to be in truth. But he had no lustful intentions towards the four women, although they looked rather good, with pretty hips and busty tits, faces ranging from average to delightful, either brown haired or black, one red. 

He was pretty sure they had someone in the massive Red Keep keeping them happy at night. There were, after all, too many men with needs in there. 

But he didn't. His needs were too demanding, needing at least nine months from a woman. 

"You may enter." He unlocked the Queen's bedchamber and allowed the four maids to walk inside. He didn't, he wasn't allowed to, and stood outside, guarding as usual. 

Time passed, and he started to feel annoyed. Women took too long to get ready for their day. But again, she was the Queen and likely needed some extra care. 

Wait, if she's eating inside, when do I get to eat? 

"Ehm… Ser?"

Right then, he heard the voice of one of the maids. He quickly stepped aside and opened the two doors. The four maids came out with items they had taken inside. And right behind them, the Queen followed. 

Wylis wasn't standing far away; he was right on the side of the doorframe, looming there like an extra wall. 

And when the Queen came out, he froze, and so did she, it seemed. 

She was tall, but not as tall as Ashara. He looked down at her beautiful face. He wasn't really expecting her to be that stunning. Knowing her history with lost pregnancies and stillbirths, he reckoned she'd be in a physical mess. 

But that wasn't the case at all. Her skin was pale as snow, her build slender yet full with perfect curves and swells in the right places. Her hair was silver-ish grey, and her eyes were beautiful deep violet, but with an ever-present hint of melancholy in them. 

Gold bracelets on her wrists, necklace around her pale neck, earrings, and that crown-like golden thing on her head with purple gems. Her hair was done elegantly, silky, tied in a single thick, but loose braid using multiple golden ribbons. And her attire was a white and purple regal gown, a wide V-neckline. Nothing extravagant, but with its own charm. 

He was taken aback by her striking face. 

And as Rhaella looked up at the massive man, her eyes wandered all over him. His chest revealed through the unbuttoned tunic and vest, his forearms revealed thick, solid, long muscles, and his face, decorated with his brown, neck-length hair, his face exuded charm far exceeding what she had in mind. His blue eyes looked intelligent to her, and his smile was warm and welcoming. 

For a long, long moment, Wylis didn’t say anything, nor did Rhaella. They just silently looked at each other, as if drinking in the view. There was hardly any distance between them, less than an arm's length. 

She smells amazing. Wylis felt her noble perfumes. But then he remembered her little parchment sent to him last night. And she heard me rearrange Ashara's insides. 

"Ser Wylis." 

At last, Queen Rhaella moved. She showed no hint of expression, no blush, no smiles, just a stoic face. But something had surely happened. She raised her right hand towards him. 

Wylis, knowing exactly what to do, bowed and gently held her extended hand, and landed a velvety, quick kiss like a noble should. It wasn't supposed to be flirty or sexual, but a mere ritual to show subservience. But Wylis felt differently. 

Her warm skin. It was quick, but he felt it. Her hand shivered when he kissed it. But maids were still there, so he had to maintain professionalism. 

"Your Grace, I’m yours to command now. I’ll keep to your side and see no harm finds its way to you."

Queen Rhaella nodded, acknowledging him, and turned around to walk. 

Come on, Queen. Smile a little. 

Seeing her gorgeous face show no hint of happiness annoyed him. He cursed the Mad King even more after that. 

Holy shit! What the fuck is wrong with Aerys! Bastard got a gem and still goes digging in the dirt. Beauty handed to him on a platter, and he treats her like stale bread. Rich twats never know the worth of what they’ve got.

He dutifully followed the Queen wherever she wanted to go. And honestly, he didn't mind the view. Sure, the gown didn't give him much to look at, but he was a very imaginative man, always had been. Her hips swayed as she wandered into another part of Maegor's Holdfast.

The maids had left already, so it was just him and the Queen now. 

Soon, the Queen walked into another room and returned with a young boy, about six years old. The usual pale skin, silver-blonde hair, and Targaryen eyes. He looked small, though, and had a thin body, but he looked perfectly healthy. 

"Woah! Mother! What is this thing!"

Already hate this little brat. 

"He is Ser Wylis, Viserys. Show him the courtesy he deserves. He’ll be guarding us from now on." Queen Rhaella corrected her son's tone. "He's a renowned knig—"

"Oh! Oh! I know him! He’s the brute who smashed brother’s teeth!" Viserys blurted and eyed Wylis with hate. "He’s no friend of ours, Mother. Why did you bring him?"

Wylis awkwardly looked at Rhaella. Viserys just reminded him that this beautiful woman was also Rhaegar's mother, and he had bashed her son's teeth in in the tourney. 

"What happened in the tourney was… an accident. I assure you of that, Your Grace." Wylis cleared it up. 

"Doesn't matter, you oaf!" The boy prince screeched at Wylis. "You spilled royal blood! I’ll tell Father, and he’ll have you burned, see if he doesn’t!"

"..."

You were right, Khal Drogo… he's a twat through and through. 

Now, Wylis didn't believe in corporal punishment for children. But that was on Earth. Westeros was a different world, and hence the customs were different. 

Oaf? Me? Holy fuck, I never thought I'd hate a kid this much. 

“Viserys, it was His Grace who knighted Ser Wylis and charged him with our protection. What happened at the tourney—there’s no blame to lay. Men break lances. Men fall. Rhaegar knew that, long before he took the field." Queen Rhaella corrected her son, or at least tried to. But she was soft, maternal, and too elegant. "Ser Wylis has bested the finest knights of Westeros. Perhaps… you might want to ask him for some sword lessons.”

Man, I'm liking her as much as I hate this little bastard.

"Tsk! What lessons? He doesn't even have a sword."

Lord, give me patience to tolerate this little shit.

Wylis said nothing after that. But the course was set in motion. He hated the boy, and he wasn't going to hold back anymore. 

Rhaella glanced at Wylis, her gaze lingering for a heartbeat—dry, unreadable. Whatever thoughts stirred behind her eyes, they stayed locked away. She turned, and took Viserys' small hand gently in hers. "Come, sweetling. Let us go. Elia must be awaiting us at the summerhouse."

Silently, Wylis followed the woman, but with a purpose. Once they were out of Maegor's Holdfast, they walked through the massive corridors that went through the boundary walls of the Red Keep. 

They passed by the rookery, and then crossed the White Sword Tower, and arrived at a more empty tower. They climbed upstairs and reached its top floor, which had wide window openings, a place made for leisure.

The floor was round, massive, covered in fine carpets, with a large round table right beside the window, overlooking the Narrow Sea. There were also many plants in the pots, green and fluttering in the sea wind. 

And of course, the table was occupied by Elia Martell and Ashara Dayne. There were also many other ladies, likely ladies-in-waiting, and wives of the likes of Lord Merryweather and Lord Velaryon. Some of them looked Dornish, likely Elia's companions. There were at least ten noble and royal ladies there. 

The place was like a summerhouse with open windows in a circular pattern, as they were in a tower. The place smelled of wine, cheese, and perfumes as the many female servants worked around to decorate the table with food and pour wines. 

He'd seen two Kingsguards standing outside the entrance previously, but he was the only man inside. He reckoned that since he was guarding the Queen, he had to be there. But it felt awkward when his eyes matched with Ashara's. 

Even Queen Rhaella was looking at Ashara. But the beauty of House Dayne had no idea that the Queen had heard their previous night's exchange. 

As Queen Rhaella took a seat, Wylis stepped away from the table and leaned by the opposite window, which looked back inside the Red Keep instead of the sea on the other side. 

Ugh… I feel hungry. 

"My…"

As expected, he was the center of attention. Some of the noble women eyed him while sipping wine from their goblets. 

"Mmm… Sends a warm shiver down my body just looking at him."

"Likewise—Never seen a giant this easy on the eyes."

Hah, then do me a favor and let me put a kid in each one of you. Wylis joked to himself. 

He really saw noble women as the best options for siring bastards. No headache or worry about the future of the kid. 

"Ser Wylis." Voiced one of the ladies. "How tall are you?"

"Seven feet, my Lady," he replied. 

"Oh—That's wonderful." She cooed and seemingly undressed Wylis with her eyes. "Isn't there a taller man in Westerlands? Ser Gregor Clegane?"

Wylis nodded, not at all bothered. The very reason he carved his body into that fine, muscle-shredded form was to attract women. "Aye, there is, my Lady. But he's no man anymore."

"Why is that?" asked Ashara curiously. 

“Lord Tywin had me face him at Casterly Rock. I ended up cleaving Ser Gregor's… cock."

Pffft!

Elia Martell spat out her drink. 

Cough! Cough!

Ashara coughed, and so did the other women. Not many men were brave enough to use words like cock in front of them. Even less so when the Queen was present. 

But it wasn't Wylis' fault. He tried to think of a word to explain it better, but then went for the easy one. Lyanna had really fucked up his vocabulary since she herself never held back her tongue. 

"Mother…" 

Right then, a little girl, cute as a hamster, perhaps two or three years old with a head full of brown hair, ran up to Elia Martell. 

"Mother, what is kh-ok?"

"..."

Wylis facepalmed himself and rubbed his forehead in embarrassment. He really didn't notice who Viserys was playing with on the side. It was Rhaenys Targaryen, Rhaegar and Elia's daughter. And indeed, Elia had another little baby wrapped in soft clothes in her arms, the boy, Aegon.

The women chuckled at Rhaenys' question. 

"Why don't you go and ask Ser Wylis himself?" Elia suggested, smirking towards Wylis. 

Fuck you, Dornish woman!

Wylis watched as the little girl, not even reaching his knees, ran all the way up to him with stars in her eyes. Chubby cheeks, big black eyes that, on a closer look, shimmered deep violet. Heck, there were even a few blonde strands mixed in her brown hair. 

Not at all scared of me? That's a first. 

"Mm… What is a—"

"Ah! Princess, do you want to fly like a dragon?" Wylis interrupted her before she could ask the question. He felt the women watching him, how he'd deal with the situation. He really was their entertainment. 

"Yes!" Rhaenys chirped excitedly. 

"Raise both your arms, sideways and straight." 

"Yes!" 

Once she had her tiny arms raised sideways, Wylis crouched, clamped his massive hands around her tummy, and lifted her up like a dragon. She weighed nothing, really. He reckoned he ate more than she weighed in a day. 

"Ahahaha… Mother! Look!"

But her laughter was cute, and Wylis couldn't help smiling as well. He raised her high up, as high as he could, almost ten feet off the ground. Then he walked around and gently swayed her, and just as planned, Rhaenys flapped her arms like a dragon. 

"Wraaaaa~" She roared jovially. 

Never thought I'd enjoy playing with kids. 

Wylis was shocked by what he was feeling. In his previous life, he avoided having kids. He disliked wasting his time and energy on anyone but himself and his dreams. 

But now, as he heard Rhaenys laugh and enjoy herself, he felt warm in his chest. He knew it had less to do with Rhaenys and more to do with the instincts he was slowly building up. With three children on the way, such… little games were going to be his future.

For a moment, he looked towards the table to ensure the women weren't angry. It was the opposite. They were all staring at him with a dreamy look on their face, even Elia. Ashara seemed more annoyed, however. And sadly, Queen Rhaella was sitting with her back towards him, so she didn't even turn her head to look. 

"Wraaa~ Wraaa~"

As he played with Rhaenys, the look the ladies gave made him wonder about something. The Tyrant's Title feature, which gave him the ability to grow stronger by shagging Lyanna, Genna, and Ashara, didn't work on Wenda. He got no title for even breeding her. 

So only shagging noble ladies will give me that Tyrant's Title to boost strength for each shag? 

"That's enough of her! It's my turn! I'm the true dragon—she doesn’t even have silver hair! Make me fly, you big oaf!"

And just like that, the calm moment was destroyed as soon as Viserys opened his mouth. From Wylis to Rhaenys, and even the noble ladies, everyone's expression soured. It was as if Viserys had no idea who he should respect and fear. Wylis could splatter the young Prince into fine paste with a single kick. 

Wylis eyed the Queen and noticed her shoulders flinch a little. Clearly, no mother would be happy seeing her son act bratty and nasty in public. 

Rhaenys pouted, her eyes tearful. But she didn't complain when Wylis lowered her to the floor. 

Seeing that, Wylis whispered to her. "Don't worry, we'll play again."

She smiled again and stepped away excitedly. 

Right after, Viserys stepped forward proudly, a sneer marring his face. 

"Raise your arms sideways, my Prin—"

"Silence, you brute. I know what to do."

"..."

No, Wylis, you can't. You just became a knight… keep calm. You can handle this. 

Wylis told himself, took deep breaths, and lifted the boy into the air. 

The issue was that Wylis wasn't used to getting cursed and mistreated like that. He used to be amongst the richest and most powerful men in his past world. Even in Westeros, he usually talked back when someone tried to shit on him. 

But he couldn't do that to the King because the man was out of his mind. He couldn't do that to Viserys because the boy was, well… a little boy. 

"Faster! Dragons fly faster, you brute!"

Viserys wasn't even laughing or enjoying it. He was just flailing his arms and sneering at the air. Acting proud and mighty.

No, Wylis. You can't just chuck him out of the damn window. 

He really wanted to do that. Let the boy try flying himself. 

For a while, he kept the prince raised high. He walked around and shook his arms for the experience. But he wasn't really into it and did a sloppy job. Instead of a smooth ride, he jolted the boy roughly. 

"W-What are you doing?" Viserys sneered.

"A storm, my Prince. The dragon is passing through a storm."

"Oh! A storm is no match for a dragon." Viserys bought the bullshit and focused on flying. 

Wylis really gave the boy some heavy jolts. Not now, but he'd have back pain in the future. 

Time passed, and at last, Viserys ran out of steam. He demanded to be lowered, and Wylis did so. 

"That was thrilling!" Viserys declared proudly. "From this day on, you shall be my steed, brute. You ought to feel honored."

That's crossing a line. 

Viserys ran away after that, headed towards the table, likely to grab something to eat. 

Fuck morals!

Wylis didn't do much, just made the stone on the floor protrude out slightly. Right in front of Viserys's feet. 

"Ah!"

The boy prince stumbled forward and, just as expected, smashed his head into the wooden table's edge. 

"Aaaaargh! Aaaaaaaa!"

Viserys screeched like a banshee and fell to the floor, holding his nose. It started to bleed soon after. 

Hearing the commotion, the two Kingsguards outside came running inside. They hurriedly grabbed the prince and checked his nose. 

"Not broken."

"Grand Maestery… take him to the Grand Maester!" Princess Elia ordered before Rhaella could say anything. 

Wylis was prepared to follow Rhaella out of there. But surprisingly, the Queen stayed seated while the Kingsguard took the boy away. Heck, Queen Rhaella was still drinking whatever was in her cup. 

I guess I'm not the only one fed up with the boy. 

Seeing the commotion end, Wylis crouched down and eyed Rhaenys, quietly playing on the side with some wooden toys. He gestured with his brows and stretched his arms towards her. 

The girl understood the meaning and ran towards him while giggling without end. 

"Yeaaaaaay~"

Once again, she was in the air, flying like a dragon. A happy one this time.

Once again, peace returned, calm breeze, women talking, Rhaenys' giggles, and for the ladies, a muscled giant to feast their eyes upon.  

####

The Great Sept of Baelor,

The King rarely left the Red Keep. But that day, he had a reason to do so. He wasn't a religious man, not at all, when it came to the Faith of the Seven. No, he rather believed in the Valyrian traditions and gods. 

But still, he needed the confidence of the High Septon for his great plans.

"Tell me, High Septon... whisper it. The preparations—they’re done, yes? Say they are. The giant—my swollen fruit of fire and blood—he ripens, doesn’t he? Just one more year… one more year and he’ll glow beautifully in the ritual."

The High Septon nodded, keeping his head lowered constantly. The King stenched, and looking at his face was intimidating. His massive, unkempt beard and hair, his long nails, and those mad eyes. Everyone avoided looking into them. 

"They are near readiness, Your Grace. The chalices have been prepared, as the rites instruct. Yet… forgive me, I have never led such a ritual. It lies… outside the customs of the Faith."

“Yes, yes, perhaps it is madness to you—but to your king, it’s a need! Haha! Soon now, soon... it shall be mine! My glorious champion’s strength, coursing through me! As it was meant! Prepare, High Septon. I smell treachery in the wind. They whisper in corners—we must act first.”

The High Septon gulped and bowed. 

####

"I'm getting the fuck out of here." 

Wylis shut his room's door and tossed the keys of the Queen's bedchamber on the table. It was night already, late now, and he was ready to start digging his way out. 

He removed all his clothes, and got butt naked since he had no other pair. And then, he crawled on the stone floor and felt it with his wide palms. He was one floor above the ground floor, and above him was the Queen's bedchamber. 

He'd surveyed the ground floor earlier, and right under his little room was supposed to be the Queen's Ballroom. It wasn't being used for anything at the moment, nor had there been any gathering scheduled. 

The plan was to first reach the ground floor and then keep digging. Since Maegor's Holdfast was surrounded by a dry moat, he couldn't just walk out. During the day, he was too busy to dig anywhere else. 

So, he was going to dig down, go deeper into the four floors of the jails. Then, perhaps from the third level, dig west and emerge inside the Godswood. From there, he'd have plenty of space to dig more and directly enter the city. 

Let's begin. 

He started not from the middle of his room, but from beside the wall, where the tiny window was. He didn't want to make too much noise, so instead of pulling out the stones like telekinesis, he placed both hands on the big block of stone. 

Grrr~

He channeled his focus into Earthbending. He'd trained for it enough, but digging that big of a tunnel was a litmus test for him. 

Grrrr~

The stones started to shake, and in time, came loose. 

Got them!

He used his bare hands to lift the stones up and put them aside. Then he pulled more stones, and then more. In no time, he had a pretty sizable hole in the floor, a tight squeeze for him, but he could cross into the Ballroom. 

It's pretty dark. 

Ready with a plan, he used Earthbending to create a sort of ladder for himself right against the wall, going down. A place to put his toes in, and climbing holds for him to hold onto. 

Then, he squeezed his lower half through the hole first and placed his toes into the right place. 

But just as he was ready to push the rest of himself down, he heard a familiar sound. 

Pang! Pang!

"Hm?"

He looked up with a frown. The metallic sound was coming from the pipe connected to the Queen's chamber above. 

Wooosh!

A rolled parchment fell out of the pipe soon after. 

At that point, Wylis looked like an earthworm with half his body under the ground and half above. Too lazy to move, he chose not to come out and just unrolled the paper as it fell close to him anyway. 

[I hope Viserys' words did not wound you, Ser Wylis. He is not impatient by nature—only young, and shaped by hands not mine. The boy still has a heart, though it’s been pulled in too many directions. I pray you see that, Ser Wylis.]

Why is she apologizing? 

Well, it wasn't an apology, but it felt like one. A queen wasn't going to say sorry, after all. 

It felt awkward. He didn't know what to say to the Queen. How to even respond to her. 

Wait…

With an idea in mind, he pulled himself out of the floor, butt-naked, and tore a piece of paper from a small stack meant to be used for writing letters. 

Then, he wrote using a thin-tipped quill.

[Worry not, Your Grace. If I let small things rattle me, I’d never have made it past mucking out stables. Folks mocked my size most of my life, but it is only now that they gawk in awe. Rest easy, nothing shall affect my duty.]

Then, he grabbed a tiny stone, crumpled the paper around it, and shoved it into the pipe. Being pretty good at maneuvering small stones by now, he easily sent it up the pipe. It didn't matter what the Queen would think.

"Alright, back to digging."

Ting! Ting!

Just as he went to the hole, he received another rolled paper from the Queen. 

[You're still awake? Ser Wylis, you should be asleep. You wake up before me, and sleep last. Your duty demands that you remain in your best physical condition. Lady Ashara may be returning to Starfall to prepare for the wedding, you mustn't allow your body to lose itself.]

"Wow, she sounds just as she looks, gentle and caring. But what is this talk… should I be having this conversation with the Queen?" Wylis muttered to himself, but felt relieved by the latter half of the contents. Ashara's return to Starfall was relieving as the rebellion was probably around the corner. 

And he had a feeling; he knew what was going to trigger it. Not much different from what he knew, but this time, he'd be involved. 

Once again, he returned to the table and wrote on a piece of paper. 

[I am used to it, Your Grace. Believe it or not, it's food that keeps me strong and built like this. Food and countless hours of training. But I feel warm to know that…]

He took a pause, a little nervous. Should he? Should he flirt with the Queen? He was attracted to her, no doubt, and honestly, he wanted to give her some happiness. But he didn't know if she wanted it. She was really hard to read. 

"Fuck it, let's do it." 

[... To know a Queen so gorgeous holds even a flicker of concern for me—well, it humbles and heartens me both. I’ll lay my head down now with that thought as my pillow—surely, sleep will come easy now.]

With that, he shoved the paper back into the pipe and sent it up. Since he'd said goodnight to her, he jumped back to digging. He just needed to climb to the lower floor now. 

Pang! Pang!

"What the… I just said goodnight." Wylis frowned hard this time. The Queen wasn't that talkative as far as he'd seen during the day. She barely spoke ten sentences at the table with the other ladies. 

He was a bit hesitant now. He expected a note full of reprimand for flirting with her. 

[It ill befits a young knight to waste his charm on a woman long past her spring, Ser Wylis. Let Lady Ashara fill your thoughts, not a shadow like me. Rest while the night is still kind.]

"Oh? So she's more bothered that I'm committed, but less about the flirting? Interesting."

He wrote down another note. 

[To praise but one flower when two grace the garden? That would be a crime of taste. Your beauty, my Queen, demands not passing comment but legacy—songs, perhaps. Or the envy of painters. And age—If you are past spring, then I'm afraid I'm more weathered than the likes of Ser Barristan.]

He sent it. This time, he didn't hurry and waited. 

Woosh!

Sure enough, the response came fast. 

[Careful, Ser Wylis. Many have met ruin, mistaking the shine of a thing for its strength. You are but nine-and-ten; the world is not as it seems. At times, what glitters the brightest may just be the most eroded beneath. Rest well.]

Wylis calmed down when he read that. She was talking about herself indirectly. And he sympathized with her. It must feel suffocating, stuck in one place with no way out. No hope left. Her own son, the crown prince, ignored her plight. The entire Kingsguard knew, the entire Red Keep knew, the Grand Maester knew, and probably all of Citadel and realm knew. The pain she suffered through the Mad King's insanity. Yet, she had no one to save her, just eyes aimed at her, filled with pity. 

He honestly didn't know how to respond. She ended each note with a farewell, as if hinting that he could stop replying if he wanted to. 

But he found his hand writing again. 

[A blade may break, yet a true smith will see it sing again. A flower may wither, yet the right touch will bring it to life. Even the cruelest wound can be undone if the healer dares. As I was cursed for a lowly life, now a knight, exchanging words in the middle of the night with the brightest bloom in the realm. Come dawn, if fate frowns and the executioner waits, still—I'd say it was worth the sin.]

Without thinking much, he sent it up. 

Then he waited. 

He waited some more. 

After an unusual amount of time passed, he was sure no response would come. He sighed, hoping he didn't overdo it, and finally returned to digging his tunnel. He climbed down into the ballroom in no time and dug further down. 

Hours later, he returned, mending the surfaces of the floors. It was impossible to finish the tunnel in one night. The real digging through the hard underground was still ahead of him. 

And he did need some rest for his daily duties. 

####

Clack!

"You may enter."

Queen Rhaella Targaryen heard that masculine voice from outside her bedchamber's doors as they opened. Four maids walked in holding various things. As usual, they helped her prepare for the day. 

They cleaned the bedchamber, removed the ash from the hearth. They helped her bathe, scrubbed her body, and cleaned every inch of her, and then prepared her clothes. Her hair was combed and styled, and her gown, without wrinkles, was tied. 

But unlike other days, she found herself more absent-minded than usual. 

"Put more under my eyes."

She was ashamed to show the redness around her eyes. Aerys hadn't visited her, but her tears had escaped. She just hoped to mask them, as usual. 

Afterwards, she walked behind the maids and left the bedchamber. Just like yesterday, she was greeted by that wall of masculinity, smiling at her. A smile that seemed genuine, without that gaze of pity or mockery. It felt real, and once again, she found herself raising her hand. 

"Ser Wylis," Rhaella said, and felt his warm lips tap on the back of her hand. It shamed her to even imagine it lingering a moment longer on her skin. 

"Your Grace."

His voice pacified her otherwise irksome start of the day. And then, she turned around and headed to her son's bedchamber. On the way, she held herself back from speaking about the written exchange of the previous night. 

Too many eyes were on her, she feared. Wylis seemed like a good, honest man, and the last thing she wanted was for him to face her spouse’s madness. Not that he wasn't already a victim of it. She could feel it in the way he carried himself. He wasn't delighted or honored to be there. He was forced into that duty. 

"Ah!"

Suddenly, for some reason, right as she was walking through the hallway, she stumbled on one foot and found herself falling forward. She was no knight; her body wasn't fast enough to react. She knew she was going to land face first.

"Your Grace!"

And just like that, she found herself safe. How that giant of a man moved so fast was beyond miraculous. But then she felt his arms, massive, firm. He'd pulled her back from falling, now she was leaning backwards, his mighty arm around her upper back, his palm holding her shoulder. His other arm was scandalously draped above her belly and held her waist. 

Her spine curved in a graceful arch as if gravity had tried to take her down but failed. One of her feet hovered just above the ground, the other bent slightly, toes grazing the floor for balance. She felt like she was floating at that moment. Not falling, not standing, but held. 

He's… humongous. 

"Your Grace."

So lost in the moment, she was frozen, staring at Wylis' face, and noting the warmth, hardness of his arms and hands. But then she was thrown out of that moment, and left standing straight. 

"Yes… I'm well." She regained her composure and looked up. Still finding Wylis standing less than a foot away. He truly felt like a wall, encompassing her entire body in his shadow. A charming shadow at that. 

"Please be careful." 

She nodded and resumed walking. 

That entire day was spent like that. And it was confusing. Years had passed, despite how terrible her marriage had been, not once had she thought of another man. She had remained loyal to her husband and her family. 

Even now, she didn't really have any disloyal thoughts. But somehow, she found herself appreciating Wylis's presence. He stood out amongst all the men; he played with Rhaenys and tolerated Viserys. He felt immensely powerful, as if he could protect her from a storm of swords; all she had to do was stand in his shadow. 

She watched her new royal knight in silence the entire day. She observed him, his faint movements, his exchanges with other Kingsguards. It seemed as if he had no enemies. All were his friends or admirers. Even Ser Jaime, known to be boastful, showed respect. 

It's a sin to hold him hostage in these walls. He should be let free. 

In her heart, she felt for the tall knight. Being a caged bird herself, she hoped for the young man to spread his wings, unlike her. 

####

Yeah, he did it. 

He tripped Rhaella that day and then saved her. He did feel ashamed after that. It felt like he was misusing his powers. Sure, everything was fair in love and war, but it felt scummy. Like the time he used Earthbending in the horse race in the tourney. 

But he couldn't deny the attraction he felt towards the Queen. The woman was like the most beautiful, yet also the most uncherished jar in the world. And what needed to be poured into that jar was a lot of talks, laughter, care, attention, and intimacy. 

What he wasn't sure of was the question: did she even want him to be there? Should he be the one to fill that jar? He wanted to, but he also needed to get out of the Red Keep. Day two had gone by, and he still hadn't found Rhaegar anywhere. He didn't get the chance to ask Elia, and Rhaella was even more clueless than him.

Pang! Pang!

Once again, he heard that noise in his little bedchamber that night. He was getting ready to continue digging the tunnel, but delayed it to wait for Rhaella's usual call. He reckoned she was more comfortable opening up to him that way—instant exchange of words, without being face to face, or being audible. 

He unrolled the first paper from the Queen upstairs. 

[Elia told me why Ashara returned to Starfall. I imagine you had your reasons for refusing her. Still, I would like to hear them... if you care to share.]

Wylis frowned. That was one subject he didn't want to talk about. But it seemed the Queen was interested. 

"Fuck it, I'll say what I have to say. Even I got no answer to this."

[Ashara is a jewel—graceful, gentle, and entirely too good for a hard-handed brute like myself. We met at Harrenhal, and though brief, it was... unforgettable. But forgive me, Your Grace—the match feels too swift. I have dreams yet unshaped, doubts yet unsolved. I am not ready to be bound, not while I still chase my place in this realm. Knighthood is but the beginning for me. And I fear binding myself now would be to halt a journey not yet begun.]

He didn't even know why he was saying all that to a practical stranger. But he poured his thoughts out of his system, hoping she would do the same. Rhaella had nobody else in her life to share words with anyway. 

Cling-Clang!

Wylis sent the crumpled parchment up through the pipe. He wondered what Rhaella thought, how he was doing that. 

Woosh!

A response came moments later. 

[Yes… that I can agree with, Ser Wylis. When I was young, I was called bold, a terror to my septas. I had aspirations. Dreams, while none as valiant as yours, they existed. But then my Father, influenced by a woods witch, wed me to Aerys. Since that day, I’ve watched my own self wither. What you see now is what is left: a queen in name, a mother in truth, and a soul quietly buried within these walls.]

She was opening up. Wylis really liked that and genuinely wanted to know more about her. What went on in the Queen's mind? But it was getting too depressing, so he put some spice into his next question. 

[I noticed that, my queen. Forgive the boldness… but it stirs my curiosity. Before this arrangement with His Grace—was there another who held your favor?]

[There was, Ser Wylis. Long ago, when I was young... naive, perhaps, and full of faith. A knight—Ser Bonifer Hasty, of the Stormlands. He was tall, solemn, and spoke always of the Seven. I remember how every word from him felt touched by prayer. I was drawn to that light. But dreams are not permitted queens. He was never more than a passing comfort... nothing that could last.]

Wylis read that with his brows high, as if reading some new gossip about the Queen. He really didn't know about this old romantic interest. 

[I didn't know that. But, did he not try to win you?]

[How could he? A dagger cannot cut a mountain, Ser Wylis.]

[Forgive my boldness, I’m too much the romantic, but if fate had placed me in his stead, and I mean no slight to the man, truly. If I were the man who held your love, Rhaella Targaryen, I’d not have let the world keep us apart. I'd have snatched you away and vanished into legend. I'd have battled and burned Westeros for you.]

He knew it was cheesy, cringy, and goosebumps-inducing. But he really thought about it, and the answer was: he could. If he were a madman, he'd have used all the years of his lifespan to make himself inhumanly powerful, leaving only ten behind. Then, he'd have burned the world while siring bastards left and right with whatever woman he desired. 

Westeros was in luck. Wylis was far too infatuated with knights and lords' culture. His sole motivation for training hard was to rise in nobility. As for bedding women and siring children, although he enjoyed it, it came second. 

After a long pause, Queen Rhaella's response came.

[That… warms my heart as much as it scares me, Ser Wylis. You are young and reckless. Lady Ashara has left, and I fear His Grace won't tolerate such defiance. You must leave the Red Keep and ride North, quickly.]

Wylis was amazed by her concern. "Holy fuck, this woman just keeps surprising me. Two days in and she's already worried I might not make it home? She just met me two days ago."

But again, he was flirting with her now, and she was responding positively. Perhaps two days were enough. 

[I will, Your Grace. I plan to leave when I get a chance. And… ]

He measured his words there. Really careful with it. But he wanted to say it, offer it to her. He just wanted to be kind to a woman stuck in a situation of someone else's making. No sexual expectations. Just a helping hand. 

[... And I can bring you with me, Your Grace. Walk beside me—away from this gilded cage. I may not be a sorcerer, but I know how to read a face. And yours… I’ve not once seen lit by a smile. If it's been stolen by these walls, let’s go find it together—beyond them.]

Without thinking too much, he took the risk and just did it. He sent it upstairs and then waited, sitting on the floor, arms crossed, butt-naked as usual. 

He counted in his head. From one to one hundred. Then once more. 

Woosh!

Another parchment came, a big one. It felt different this time; the writing was a mix of slow and rushed. Much thought was put into it. 

[I question still whether your kindness is offered freely, or with a purpose hidden beneath the words. Yet I have chosen to believe it true. Perhaps that is my final folly. 

You are gallant, Ser Wylis, but blind to the danger you invite. Do not walk into this poison of politics. It will swallow you, no matter how sharp your blade is or how mighty your fist is. It will not spare you for good intentions. Forget about me, just leave and forge your life as you wish. 

Turn away. Let me remain where I was always meant to be. I made peace with this prison long ago. I have my son, Viserys. I have grandchildren. Rhaegar walks a path darkened by dreams and riddles. I fear it, but he remains my child.

Do not try to awaken in me the hunger for hope. I buried that with my youth. Do not offer me dreams, Wylis. I am far too old to chase them, and too tired to pretend they could ever come true.

You are no king, no savior, no wielder of prophecy, no champion of magic. Just a good man. And good men die quickly in this realm. Guard yourself with silence and sense. Forget this tired queen. Go. You must go and live. Aerys will send hounds, but you must outrun them. Through you, perhaps, I have remembered the shape of dreams. That is enough.]

Wylis sighed, noticing a tiny, wet, dried drop at the bottom of the page. He looked up at the stone ceiling. He was a fucking champion of magic. He could punch a hole in that ceiling and barge into her room right at that moment. 

But that would be forcing his will on her. He could only help those who wanted to be helped. 

Struggling to decide what to say, he chose to end their long, late-night session. 

[I understand, Your Grace. Rest well.] 

He waited a while after that. Once sure that no more responses would come, he put his entire focus on digging a tunnel under Maegor's Holdfast. Having already dug down below the ground floor previously, he finally entered the underground jails. 

It was actual digging at that point. He had to find spots on each floor to discard the dirt. And he had to make the tunnel big enough that he could crawl easily. It was a slow process, but Earthbending was useful. 

All he had to do was focus on the connection he felt with the earth, and then use that to dig. 

However, as he began nearing the second level of the underground jail, he paused and reviewed his strategy. 

"Wait a moment. Why don't I just try to compress the earth in front of me away from me? I won't need to dig then."

It was easier said than done. He wasn't a master at Earthbending, after all. He required a lot of focus to compress the Earth. And it was a slow process. But still time-saving when he didn't have to discard the excavated earth and stones outside. 

I'll be done in a day or two at this rate. 

####

Winterfell,

Lyanna had had enough of it. The day the raven came from King's Landing and she found out that Wylis had been knighted by the King, her mind was set. She made preparations, packed clothing, and some food. She had some coin saved, not a lot, but enough to easily reach King's Landing. 

Can't wait to see his face when he finds me. 

She was in a good mood, excited to meet the person she had missed the most all that time. She wasn't aware how Wylis would react to the pregnancy, but she somewhat hoped that he wouldn't be against it. 

Then, one morning, she went out of the castle, into Winter Town. Her excuse was to buy some clothes. 

Finding an opportunity, she simply left. Half her face covered, heavy winter clothing draping her, she galloped her horse southward on Kingsroad. She wasn't scared of anything; it was adventurous. 

If anything, she felt a rush. 

And excitement. 

She wanted to meet Wylis as quickly as possible. She wanted to hug the life out of him, the only man she could be openly herself with.

But there was also a small hint of fear. How would it all work out? She was aware of Wylis's dreams, and for that, Wylis couldn't afford to just disappear. 

"Gods, I'm the biggest fool in the world, aren't I?"

___________

A/N: The next chapter arrives tomorrow.