Wylis chuckled under his helmet because Rhaegar was absolutely right.
Bam!
Wylis kicked flat on Rhaegar's chest and shoved him back so hard he slammed into the tree behind him. Blood dripped from the helmet's lower edge.
"Aaaargh! Damn you… Lowly… stableboy!"
One more Targaryen fallen to madness.
The Rhaegar he knew would've never mocked him like that just for his status.
No point in dragging this.
Clank!
Wylis blocked Rhaegar's swing and absorbed the strike, rattling the blades together in a stalemate that was a farce.
Scrrrr!
Wylis twisted his grip and grabbed Rhaegar's right wrist and… twisted it with all his strength.
"Uwaaaaaaaargh!"
Rhaegar screamed in pain, his tolerance already tested with the chest injury.
"Die, die, die… You!" Rhaegar weakly tried to swing his longsword with one arm. But it couldn't even dent Wylis' armor as the sword was just too heavy for one hand. Not everyone was built like Wylis.
Clank!
Clank!
Clank!
Rhaegar swung his blade without a thought. He didn't even bother to make sure it was the blade's edge.
"Gah!"
Wylis pushed Rhaegar flat against the tree.
Clank!
"Let go of me! I am… Rhaegar Targar—"
"No, you're a delusional fool who had it all and still lost it! A pathetic lunatic who'll be remembered as the man who doomed House Targaryen." Wylis gripped Rhaegar's other hand as well, twisted it at the wrist. The prince's sword dangled weakly, but didn't fall.
"Nnnnnngh! Noooo, no, no… It can't end like this! Barristan! Ser Barristan! Men, hold him!"
Slash!
Wylis didn't even look behind. He used Rhaegar's own sword and stabbed backwards with it, impaling the knight who tried to sneak attack. Though the real damage was done by the earth spikes.
"You don't need the helmet." Wylis held the prince against the tree and ripped off the helmet. Instantly, the blood-soaked face came into view, and the silver locks drenched in sweat. Violet eyes filled with terror, jittering.
"You don't need the breastplate either." He gripped the breastplate from the neck area and pulled it brutally. That thirty percent strength boost helped a lot, and he ripped the whole thing apart, breaking all the knots that held it. He did the same for chainmail, as if taking away Rhaegar's dignity as a warrior.
"P-Please…" Rhaegar's pained, scrunched face twisted as if on the verge of crying. His gurgling voice weakly came. "T-The… Three heads… the prop—Argh!"
Wylis pressed his hand on Rhaegar's already shattered chest, making him cry even more. He could swear he saw tears on that bloodied face. And in that moment, it hit him. Rhaegar was genuinely scared of him because of the boon he received from Rhaella's complete loyalty. All Targaryens were either fond of or scared of him genetically.
"I-uh… I just… The promised prince… the…"
Wylis shook his head, constantly aware of anyone trying to sneak behind him using Earthbending. It was needless concern as Stormlands' men had somehow arrived and engaged all royalists with overwhelming strength, aiding Wylis.
"They say, when a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin in the air and the world holds its breath to see how it'll land—Your father's landed on madness. But yours didn't, yet you forced it to flip." Wylis spread his palm and made a claw, and sank his fingers into Rhaegar's chest.
"Aaangh… S-Ser Barristan!" Rhaegar tried to strike Wylis with his hands, but his wrists were broken. Real tears were visible, a truly pathetic sight. Rhaegar's body shivered, eyes wide open with fear. "S-Save me! I must… I must not die!"
Wylis dug his claw even harder and leaned closer to Rhaegar before speaking in a lowered voice. "I believe you, the prophecies I mean. The Long Night, Daenys the Dreamer. You're right, there are dead beyond the Wall. But that changes nothing. That's not your fate, and even if it is, I wouldn't let it be—A tyrant bothers not with mad fools."
"Ha!"
Wylis shifted back, leaving Rhaegar to stand without support. So fast, he grabbed his massive sword, aimed at Rhaegar's chest, and thrusted in like hot iron through butter. Slow, agonising, cutting through every inch.
"Gaaaaaaaaaah! No, no, noooooo! Stop! Why? Why? Why?!"
Rhaegar tried to jump, tried to free himself. His screams were so loud that the men around them, surrounding the tree, had come to a silent halt. Heads were turned towards them, the royalists saw it with defeat, and the rebels saw it with joy and pride.
"Roar! Roar louder! For one last time!" Wylis shouted and stabbed all the way, and even more. His chipped sword passed through Rhaegar's body and continued to slide into the thick tree behind, further and further.
"Naaa—Aaaargh… T-The… Prince that… Aaaangh!"
No roars, they were cries of the dying prince.
Wylis ended up shoving the entire sword's length into Rhaegar's chest until only the rain-guard remained outside. He was towering, flat against the Prince's chest, holding the hilt.
"L-L…" Rhaegar's eyes froze, his breath loud, broken, like a dying pig, deep gasps that didn't fill his chest. His scared eyes, half open, stared at Wylis. "L-Lyanna…"
Wylis sneered and leaned his helmet-clad face beside Rhaegar's ear and whispered.
"Lyanna is safe, mother of my child—mine."
"Ungh… N-oh~"
A look of disbelief coated Rhaegar's face in that final, ending breath. His eyes froze in shock, misery, broken horror.
Wylis stepped aside, allowing all to see.
Rhaegar's head plopped forward. His body was skewered on that tree trunk like a doll on display… dead.
He didn't even try. Wylis pondered, feeling unsatisfied by the ease of killing Rhaegar. I suppose he died the day he found "Lyanna's" remains in the burnt tower. I just killed the husk.
Ting!
[Side Quest Completed - Can't Touch Me
Description - Take no damage beyond flesh wounds. A Tyrant needs no armor, for he's untouchable.
Reward - Location of every buried treasure in Westerosi land since the dawn of mankind.]
Hmm?
Wylis felt a surge of information appear inside his head. It felt random, but he knew exactly where it was. Treasures buried all across Westeros. But he didn't know what the treasures were. He only knew the location.
Ting!
[Side Quest Completed - The God of War
Description - Win every battle in the rebellion. A Tyrant does not fear loss, for he never loses.
Reward - Location of every treasure ship sunk around the Westerosi coast.]
Once again, information appeared. He knew the exact spot where treasure ships had sunk around the Westerosi coast. But he only saw the surface of the water, not what was beneath it. Besides, he reckoned this reward was the hardest to grab. He'd need to build diving bells for it first.
But Wylis didn't react much at that moment. He just stared at Rhaegar's dead face. Of all quests, he knew the one attached to Rhaegar was the hardest. He'd killed one of the four Targaryen males.
Three more to go… a king and two… kids…? Would a tyrant do that?
Clank!
Clank!
He was awakened by the resumed sound of swords clashing. But it came from a distance. The men immediately around him had already stopped.
"Time to end this."
Squelch!
Wylis pulled his sword from Rhaegar's chest. Before the dead body could fall, he grabbed it by the silver-blonde hair, bunched in his fist. Not a blink wasted, he dragged the dead prince by the hair, ensuring the face was up for all to see.
As he walked, a trail of blood followed, oozing from the prince's chest, still warm. The ford's water turned crimson behind him.
"Your prince is dead!" Wylis roared at the top of his lungs. "Lay down your blades, swear to the true King, Robert Baratheon! Or suffer the same fate as the silver prince!"
It was a parade. Wherever Wylis walked, the fighting stopped. The clashing men stepped aside and gave way. Nobody wanted to be in the way of a fully armored, blood-soaked seven-foot-tall giant. Even less so after seeing Rhaegar Targaryen's body being dragged.
"Yield! The battle is over! Rhaegar is dead!"
Wylis kept shouting, making sure the entire battlefield heard him.
Clank!
Splash!
One by one, the royalists dropped the blade. But not all; some still tried to fight and got swarmed by rebel soldiers. Others fled.
"Rhaegar is dead!"
Wylis kept shouting and walked through the entire battlefield, towards the rear. Behind him, hundreds of rebels followed. It truly turned into a parade.
"Ser Wylis."
Finally, Eddard arrived, looking battered but not wounded, just a few surface wounds.
Wylis nodded at the man and kept moving. He had a goal in mind.
"Rhaegar is dead!"
He wanted to imprint that scene in everyone's head: Wylis Kaiser dragging the dead prince by the hair. He wanted all to remember it. For the word to spread. For his fame to grow.
At last, marching, Wylis arrived at the camps. He took off his helmet, passed through the groaning, wounded men, and reached the largest, guarded tent. The Stormlands' sentries quickly moved out of his way. One ran ahead and pulled apart the tent's curtain for him. Only Wylis, Eddard, Lord Hoster, and Lord Jon entered.
"Robert," he said, and threw Rhaegar's dead body ahead, in the middle of the large carpet. "Get your ass up now, you've got a throne to claim."
"Seven hells! Look at my carpet, ruined!" Robert bellowed from his bed, half laughing.
They chuckled and looked at the dead prince in silence.
Robert slowly sat up, his fever mostly under control now, but his body still ached. He sat over the bed's edge and stared at the dead man.
"Did he speak? Did he say a word of her? Where's my Lyanna?"
Your Lyanna?
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