The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 27 - Talent Hunt, Mutiny, Rescue, and Guests (Patreon)

[A/N: Sorry for the delay, guys. I'm in the middle of moving to a new house. And I ended up writing too much for this chapter.]

Doc - https://docs.google.com/document/d/18iHtFWaK11ukPQ6w-qTHmxOk4O4AxpiW6NYkt9A5Jfo/edit?usp=sharing

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Ramsgate Port, 

"So, your plan for a crew is to chain up murderers and predators and call them sailors?"

"Come here," Brandon growled, yanking Wylis by the arm into the corner. "Think, my brute of a friend. What we’re about to do is treason. If the realm catches wind, we’re dead men. Take sailors, they’ll gossip. But if we take scum from the dungeons, no one’ll miss ’em if we—"

"Kill them?" Wylis finished the words. 

"Exactly!" 

Wylis hummed for a moment. While he was no social justice warrior, luring men with false hope was disgusting. Yet, what other option was there? Saving Rhaella was important, and taking normal sailors was risky—the fewer people who knew, the better. 

"Let me guess. You told them they’d be free if they serve me well?"

"Oldest bloody trick there is," Brandon said with a grin. "They were bound for the headsman or the Black anyway."

Wylis nodded in the end. The craven Brandon had picked knew how to man a ship anyway, and Wylis was personally going to be the captain. The plan was quite simple; secrecy was the main issue. 

"Best we set out come morning."

Brandon grinned and quickly left to prepare for the journey. He was really enjoying being the Admiral of the mighty fleet of one little cog, it appeared. 

As for Wylis, he went to the castle and briefed Lyanna about his coming journey. He worried for her safety and the others in the castle. So, he made Chett the head of the guards in his absence. And Lyanna had enough brains to order them around if a threat was to appear. It was unlikely, but Wylis didn't trust the Boltons. 

Afterwards, he met Old Harwin, once a fisherman whose daughter was taken and murdered by Brennard. The man knew how to read and count, and hence he became Wylis's man to oversee the clearing of the forest around the castle. 

Furthermore, he ordered the demolition of the abandoned buildings on the northern side of the town. The earlier the better, Wylis reckoned, and his projects gave the people work that paid them. 

Later that night, he spent time with Lyanna. It was his simple rule; other women could wait. His first duty was to his true wife. He only left her after she'd finished whimpering, moaning, and falling asleep. Thankfully, the more he made love to Lyanna, the stronger he became by small fractions. Meaning, by literally fucking her, he gained stamina and strength to keep going and satisfy others. 

Moreover, since Ashara was also a noblewoman, bedding her also made him stronger. And thanks to Life Quest's reward, the strength boost was four times. He really couldn't wait to bring Rhaella into safety, and if she agreed, to bed. After all, lying with her promised strength boost of a whole point-one percent.

Eventually, that night, he ended up giving all of them something. After leaving Lyanna a mumbling mess, he visited Ashara and did the same, followed by Wenda. He didn't see Ros since she wasn't one of the ladies yet. 

Finally, in the middle of the night, he returned to his bedchamber, squeezed Lyanna into his arms, and fell asleep. 

####

King's Landing, 

"Hah! Wyman choking on his own spit, was he? No one buys that many bloody ships for a joyride, my friend!" Robert Baratheon howled from his seat in the King's private solar. "So tell me, what in the Seven hells are you planning to do with them?"

"Trade."

"Aye, I know it, damn you. Seven hells, won’t get a word out of you, will I? Still, it’s good to see you. Being King’s a bloody curse. Day and night, some fool comes bowing their shits and crying over something. And now I’ve got to bed a Lannister doll with hair like spun gold. Ha! Gods save me."

Wylis didn't comment on that. 

Clearly, the marriage was doomed to fail from the start. Robert had no interest in getting married. But he was doing it because it was the best logical thing to do. 

"It’s a burden we chose, Robert. Aye, I remember the good days too, when we could ride where we pleased without care. But duty’s caught us both now, yours heavier than mine. Still, there’s peace to be found in it."

"Amongst whores?"

“That, and more. A lord or a king’s work isn’t to fuss over every small task. It’s to find the right meatbags for the right duties, then keep a watchful eye while they do their part. We drink our wine, eat our meat, and make sure all runs as it should.”

"Meatbag! Ha! I like that one!" Robert howled, slapping the table. "Aye, you're right. But finding the right meatbag’s no easy task. I was lucky to have Jon. Would’ve been finer still with you and Ned, but that’s too much to hope for."

Honestly, Wylis didn't know how much of the future had changed. Robert had barely fought in the Rebellion. He had stolen most of the kills. That had to have some effect. And while he had personally snatched Lyanna from Robert, the least he could do was be a reliable friend. 

"You already know how things stand in Ramsgate. It'll take me five years, maybe more, to set it right. Still, I’ve time for you, my friend. Call upon me if some meatbag's giving you trouble." 

Finally, Wylis got up, his little meeting with Robert having come to an end. 

But Robert embraced him like a brother. “Ha! I’d chain you to the bloody feast table if I could. But your woman’s waiting, and I’m not fool enough to cross one who tamed you. Now get out there and smash those Bolton curs to bits!"

"Will do, Robert."

With a chuckle, Wylis left the King's solar. He avoided meeting Jon, considering his wife's belly lay swollen with the seed he'd sown. While it was all consensual from all sides, he still didn't trust a man's pride. Jon was a good man, but still a man. 

So, he only met with Stannis, the man he hadn't met yet. The stoic-looking, serious man was in his prime, yet had a face as hardened as a veteran of many battles. 

Afterward, he left the Red Keep and roamed the many streets of King's Landing. His first stop was the Street of Steel, beginning on the south-west corner of the Fishmonger's Square, and climbed up Visenya's Hill. The entire street was marked with forges. The higher he went on the hill, the better the shops became, and also more expensive. 

What a city. 

King's Landing was truly a behemoth whose true potential was never reached. If he had such manpower, the things he could have built… Just thinking about that made him annoyed. But nonetheless, it was all a part of the process. 

He visited shops and asked about prices. From swords to common armor, helmets, to more expensive full plate armor. Thanks to his fame, he was easily recognized in each shop and even purchased some swords and light armor for his small garrison back home. 

Oh? He's here? 

Finally, he arrived at the near top of the hill and noticed a shop still under construction. No, it was being upgraded, the upper floors being added. At the entrance of the shop stood two stone knights in red suits of armor, each intricate, screaming that the maker was highly skilled. 

Unmistakably, it was the shop of Tobho Mott. The man hadn't been there the last time Wylis was in the city. That meant the Qohorik master armorer had recently arrived.

On the one hand, Wylis wanted to snag the man and settle him in Ramsgate. On the other hand, he knew it was impossible at the moment. Ramsgate had nothing to offer for the master armorer. Yet, he knew the future, and someday, he hoped the man would willingly walk into his halls on his own. 

He walked right into the shop.

"Ah, just a moment, my Lord," came the voice of a man, working on something above on one of the building's support beams.

Wylis watched with interest. 

The man wasn't that old, perhaps in his thirties. Not that tall either, but certainly strong, seeing him move swiftly to reach the ladder and jump down the last few steps.  

"Ah… you’re a big one, my Lord. Tobho Mott, at your service."

Wylis eyed him for a few long moments, testing his patience. Just from the way Tobho acted, it was clear that he wasn't the stubborn old man he'd one day become. This Tobho was new to King's Landing, and even if he came from Qohor as a master already, he had to prove himself first. And that meant taking commissions from known lords and warriors like him. 

"I’m Lord Wylis Kaiser of Ramsgate. You're new to Westeros? I sense a slight accent… Qohor?"

"Ah, I knew it was you, my Lord. No one else fills a room quite like that. Aye, I’m from Qohor, though I’ve been trying to beat that damned accent out of my tongue. Still not winning, seems. Come, sit. My girl will fetch some wine before it goes warm."

Wylis usually avoided wine. But he didn't refuse because asking for water was asking for feces-laced filth from some random well. It was best to avoid it unless he knew the source. 

In moments, he had a cup in his hand, as did the master armorer. 

"What can I do for you, my Lord?"

"Can you work Valyrian Steel?"

Tobho's eyes lit up as he proudly straightened his back. "Aye, one of the few who know it, my Lord. Picked it up back home."

I should ask Robert before melting the Tarly sword. 

"That’s good to hear. I’ve a few spoils from war and some old Valyrian metal pieces I’ve gathered. I’ll have them sent your way to forge into a greatsword. Until then, I want you to begin work on a full set of plated armor for me. Have it black, with touches of gold here and there. It’ll be the armor I wear to war." 

Wylis didn't even try to ask the man to follow him to Ramsgate. It was pointless. But what he could do was create a lasting impression. And be one of his first fat-pocketed patrons. 

"It will be my honor, my Lord," said Tobho Mott, rising to his feet and gathering his tools. "I’ll take your measure and set to work at once. Since it’s for you, I’ll see to every detail myself. The armor will be fit for your name and deeds. Still, it will take no less than four moons."

That was a very long time indeed. But Wylis wasn't ignorant about armor. If all he was asking for was a simple plate armor, Tobho could've made it in a month. But what he wanted was armor to show strength, wealth, and look imposing. 

"Good. Make sure it’s sturdy. I’ll have need of it in battle. Still, my smiths can forge more when the time comes," he said, letting a hint of his meaning slip.

And as expected, Tobho looked hurt. "My Lord, any fool with a hammer can make a shirt of mail. What I do... that’s bloody art."

"Aye, I’ve no doubt of it, my friend. I’m setting up a new kind of furnace on my lands, one I’ve planned myself. The river will drive the gears for the bellows, the trip hammers, and the rolling mills. In time, my forge street will be turning out hundreds of suits of armor each week."

Tobho stared at Wylis' face curiously. He knew what gears were, he knew what water mills were, but he didn't know how they could power a bellow. He didn't know what a rolling mill was either. He knew what a hammer was, but what did trip mean before the word?

"I... what kind of furnace did you have in mind, my Lord?"

"It's not easy to put into words. Truth be told, it'll be the first of its kind. Still, it's a risk I'm willing to take. King's Landing is grand and full of riches, yet it feels stagnated by its own past glory. Too many come here seeking comfort, not challenge. I mean no slight to you." Wylis glanced toward the window and rose to his feet. "Come, let’s finish the measuring. If my furnace works as I hope, you’ll be welcome to visit. You’ll have earned it for forging my armor."

A bit speechless by the tall lord's words, Tobho silently did his work. He didn't believe it, of course. A hundred armors a week? That was impossible. Even King's Landing couldn't do that, let alone a small town in the North. But he was a curious man, and he had read the recent history. If there was one thing Lord Wylis was known for, it was doing the impossible. 

"Here, I leave this coin with you. I trust it’ll be enough to forge a good suit of armor."

Wylis handed twenty-five gold dragons. It was much more than what a plate armor took. Even the slightly fancy ones didn't take more than ten gold dragons. But he just told the man to do his best and left the shop. 

He had more things to buy, after all. 

For example, dozens of perfectly measured rectangular sheets of metal, which would take weeks to make. And also yarn, a lot of it. Then there were gifts for Lyanna, the ladies, and the kids. 

After sending all the purchased goods to the ship, he ended up entering Chataya's Brothel. The building had a renovated facade, now much more luxurious. Even the marble inside was new, and the curtains. 

Without any words exchanged, he was guided to a backroom right away. Chataya's private chambers, where she worked and also slept. As he entered and closed the door behind him, he met the tall, dusky, beautiful woman's almost golden eyes.

"My Lord," Chataya stood up and approached him, her voice smooth and laced with a Summer Islander accent. 

"Come here." Wylis didn't let the woman stand stiff and pulled her in a warm, tight embrace. "It's good to see you healthy."

He really didn't know where Chataya fit in everything. She was no longer a whore but just the owner of a brothel, so she was clearly not a one-night stand for him. She was supposed to be the mother of his child, which would have given her a very high status in his priority list. But that babe died. And now, still, he felt she deserved that same status in that list. 

Clearly, Chataya didn't mind as she eased into his chest, her arms circled his neck. 

After what felt like a long moment, he released her, and she stood just a single step away from him, her hands softly caressing his chest, feeling the texture of his fine robes. 

"I thought I was forgotten after you found your calling," she said with a teasing smile. 

"Forget you? Not a chance, Chataya," he said, landing both his hands on her curvaceous waist. As he looked down at her face, he honestly felt lured by her lips. 

And it appeared she felt the same. The very next moment, she rose on her toes and pecked him. 

But just when she was done, he leaned down and gave her a real kiss. One she was likely to never forget. Deep, hot, intense, and passionate. 

Their tongues met in a slow, serpentine dance, fervent, each stroke savoring the other’s warmth, the soft press of flesh. 

Chataya tasted of expensive wine, rich and heady, her breath a sweet fire that curled through Wylis’s chest. His tongue traced hers, exploring, tasting, as if he could drink her essence. 

Her lips yielded yet pushed back, silent in every glide, every shared breath, igniting a spark that made the air between them hum. Both their eyes fluttered shut, lost in the pulse of the moment. 

Wylis’s hands slid down her smooth curves, fingers sinking into the lush, round swell of her hips. He gripped them tightly, indulging in their softness, the way they filled his palms perfectly. Each squeeze pulled a faint moan from her throat, her body swaying closer. His rough hands kneaded her flesh, savoring the give, the warmth, the way her body seemed to sing under his grasp.

Their breath mingled until they finally parted, lips tingling, chests heaving. 

Chataya’s golden eyes gleamed with a knowing smile, matched by the wolfish grin spreading across Wylis’s face.

"What brought you to me, my Lord?" 

"You, of course," he said, keeping her in his arms. "Anyone given you trouble?" 

Chataya shook her head, chuckling. "And if someone had, my lord?

"Kill them, of course. My name and fame stand high now, Chataya. See that you take advantage of that."

"Then…" She once again flattened her ripe breasts on him, her voice a low, throaty purr. "May I take advantage in another way?"

A suppressed smile played on her lips as Wylis felt her arm slip between them. Her hand found his cock, cupping it through his trousers. She squeezed, giving quick, teasing tugs, her touch igniting a slow burn in his loins. 

His shaft stirred, thickening under her skilled grip, each pull coaxing it to swell. Her eyes locked on his, daring him, as she worked him with a rhythm that made his breath grow fast.

"I…" He hesitated, torn inside. He wasn’t sure if she’d truly mended from all that had happened, or if this was just her way of bearing it. "I don’t think now’s the time to try for another babe, Chataya."

With a slow sigh, Chataya cupped his face, her eyes half-lidded. “My Lord, not every touch is meant to make babes. Some of us crave warmth for its own sake.”

That felt like a light bulb igniting in his head. He smiled wolfishly and pushed Chataya back until her hips flatted against her table's edge. He didn't have to do anything as she herself slid on top of it and reclined back on her arms, smirking at him right as her legs came up, her feet tugging at his erection. 

Her feet moved masterfully, squeezing his cock between their smooth arches, still trapped in his trousers. The pressure was exquisite, her toes curling just enough to tease, rolling his length with a slow, urging rhythm. Each stroke sent a jolt through him, her soft soles gliding, pressing, persuading his arousal to throb harder. 

Wylis stood rooted, watching her face. It was a vision of curious, teasing delight. Her golden eyes glinted with mischief as she worked him, her lips parted in a throaty giggle. With a sigh, he shoved his trousers down, freeing his hard, girthy cock, ready to steal her breath. 

“Umm..” Chataya moaned, her chuckle vibrating in her throat as she trapped his nude shaft between one sole and the other foot’s arch, rolling it in indulgent, massaging strokes that almost made his knees weak.

"Now that we’ve a quiet moment, my Lord... tell me, what sin dragged you to King’s Landing?"

Wylis let out a soft chuckle, feeling her foot job doing its work. He was throbbing; he was threateningly erect. "Can't I say you?"

Chataya rolled her eyes. 

"Trade. Needed to buy a few things. Mostly metalwork. And I’m looking for skilled hands, blacksmiths, builders, weavers, and the like, to bring back home."

Her toes teased harder, trying to catch his swollen cockhead between them, pinching lightly, sending a sharp spike of pleasure through him. She raised her chin, her gaze locking onto his face, sultry and teasing.

"You’re looking in the wrong place for such men, my Lord. In this city, they’re too busy counting their coins to crave more. If you want the hungry ones, you’ll find them in small towns beyond the walls."

Wylis knew that already. Of course, he knew that. 

"If names are what you want, I can find a few."

"That'll help a lot."

She hummed and stopped abruptly. She sat up from the table, got off, and gently pushed Wylis to sit on the chair behind him. Right after, she raised her loose, silken gown, removed her smallcloth, and straddled him. 

"Let's help this… first." She gripped his cock underneath and guided it to her core. "Ummh…"

Chataya took him in slowly, her golden eyes locked on his. Her gaze was a fire, making his shaft throb with every inch her pussy claimed. Her lips parted slightly in a soft gasp as she lowered herself, her slick folds parting. The slow stretch of her petals around his girth was intentional, each movement a sensual tease to simmer him in bliss. 

Her eyes never left his, drawing him into her spell. Her confidence, a siren’s call that made his blood roar.

Chataya was practically made to take him, but the push and pull of pleasure and the relentless stretch still stirred her. Her teeth grazed her plump lower lip, a faint wince flickering as her cunt adjusted to his size, her wet walls stretching to accommodate him. Her body yielded to him with a slow, delicious burn.

Wylis didn’t move, didn’t grip her hips. He let her take him at her own pace. Inch by agonizing inch, her core swallowed him with a torturous slowness. Her eyes stayed fixed on his, her confidence unshaken even as her body trembled.

And Gods, the welcoming heat was divine. 

Wylis could feel her walls clenched around him, hot and slick, pulsing with every push like a warm embrace. It was like sinking into a hot tub; each ripple of her inner muscles bubbled around his sensitive flesh, tugging him deeper. An utterly pleasing grip. Her core moved with him, suckling and releasing in a sinful rhythm. Every pulse was a spark of ecstasy that echoed through his body.

Finally, Chataya moaned, long and low, her arms wrapping around him, her face nestling beside his ear. Her breath was hot, her whispers trembling with pleasure. 

“Ummmhh—Gods, my Lord… such size,” she murmured in a sultry hymn. “You stretch me so wide… I feel you so deep, filling every inch of me.” 

Her words dripped like honey, each syllable stoking the fire in his loins, her moans vibrating against his ear as she clung to him.

Unable to hold back, Wylis’s hands move, slipping under her gown from behind to claim her marshmallowy peach. Gods, they were soft, his fingers sinking into them like a mountain of warm feathers. He kneaded her flesh, savoring the heat, the way her curves molded to his grip, each knead pulling a soft gasp from her lips. 

Chataya’s hips started to move, riding him with fiery hunger, plunging down to let his shaft dive deep into her core. Each descent was a claim, her body swallowing him whole, her walls gripping him like a treasure.

Creek! Creek! 

The chair groaned under them, rocking with their rhythm. 

Flesh slammed against flesh as her movements grew frantic, her magnificent, nectar-filled breasts smushing against Wylis’s chest, dampening her gown. Beads of sweat glistened on her dusky, enchanting skin. Her hands combed through his dark hair, tugging lightly, her breath growing ragged as she rode him with wild abandon. 

Plap! Plap! Plap! 

“We can’t… spare too long. Someone might… knock on the door… Oh, oh!” She gasped between moans, trembling with urgency. Her hips didn’t falter, slapping down harder. Her cunt clenching with every plunge, devouring all his fat length like she was born to do it.

“Ghh—” Wylis grunted, her feverish ride overwhelming him. The friction of her juicy cunt on his swollen length was too much.

He struck the deepest part of her pussy, over and over, each thrust a scorching delight. Her slick walls clamped around his cock tightly, expertly precise. Each plunge of her feathery soft ass sent waves of pleasure through him. The heat was unbearable, a furnace of pure pleasure.

“Umphhh!” Chataya’s climax hit like a storm. Her nectar flooded over his cock, a hot, slick torrent that soaked his lap, her walls spasming wildly around him in waves. 

She suppressed her moans, crashing her lips against his in a desperate, hungry kiss, her tongue plunging into his mouth to muffle her cries. Her body shuddered, her thighs trembling, her core clenching in rhythmic pulses that milked him, her essence dripping down his balls.

As she came, Wylis’s own control shattered. His hands clawed at her ass so rough they marked bruises, digging into her soft flesh as he pulled her down hard, grinding her against his warm lap. His cockhead swirled around her cervix, churning her warm butter.

“Gaaaah—ummmh!” 

He roared into that kiss and erupted, spurt after spurt filling her to the brim. It felt like a white-hot explosion that made his vision blur, his body convulsing as he poured himself into her. 

She felt it all, like an old sensation she didn’t know she missed.

It was so much, so potent, so creamy, and so scentful. She kept rolling her hips to feel his hot mess form a juicy froth in and out of her heated core. The mess soon leaked in thick trickles, coating his balls and her dusky thighs. 

His heart was pounding like a war drum.

Finally, as that insane high faded, she stopped kissing and smiled, spent, hot, and unimaginably aroused.

Knock! Knock!

"See, we were lucky." Chataya chirped and abruptly got off him, uncaring that his mess spilled from her cunt and dripped down her thick thighs. She just patted her gown to seem proper and walked to the door.

Wylis was quick to hide his calming, juiced-up cock and stayed seated like he belonged there. Like he didn't just fuck the owner of that establishment. 

Thud!

Soon, Chataya closed the door after talking to whoever was outside and walked back to her work table. 

"Something's troubling you?" Wylis asked as he noticed a frown on her face. 

Chataya exhaled a deflating sigh. "I suppose… I do need to take advantage of you… the other way."

"Hah! Whose skull am I to smash?

####

Wylis didn't immediately follow Chataya out. He stayed hidden behind the corner, able to hear whatever was going on outside in the reception of the brothel. There was certainly a loud commotion, and he could hear some drunken voices. 

Chataya was out there, trying to mediate. "Ser, this is a respectable establishment. The girls here are not playthings, no matter your coin. You’ll show them decency—"

"Bah, shut it, whore! You're whores! All of you. Now be a good whore and bring out the cunts you've got for sale. My lads and I will inspect them thoroughly." 

"You have abused them before. They won't meet you again."

"And who are you to decide that, whore? We're the City Watch. Do you know who you're talking to? I will… Ye, I'll have you stripped and whipped before the entire cit… c-c-ci-cit…"

The moment that man started to berate Chataya, Wylis came out into the open. He towered over everyone and everything there, his shoulders broad enough to engulf two of them even in their armors. And all four of them recognized Wylis at one glance. 

"You'll do what now?" Wylis asked, glaring at the man who was berating Chataya, his left hand raised, finger pointed at Chataya. The amusing part was that the man had frozen, his hand still raised. 

"M-My Lord!"

"On your knees! Each one of you." Wylis used a deeper voice, angrier. Then he unsheathed his sword, its elongated screech of metal turned blood cold. "I don't take kindly to those who threaten what's mine."

The four kneeling Gold Cloaks looked up at his face, confused. 

"I'm part-owner of Chataya’s brothel. In truth, we share the profits, she and I. And what do I find upon my return to King’s Landing? My coin and my name being trifled with. By whom? A drunk guard and his three cocksuckers. Who’s your commander?"

The Gold Cloak still hadn't lowered his arm, although he had fallen to his knees with the rest. All four of them were looking down, their armors clanking as they shivered. 

"M-My Lord, it's Manly Stokeworth."

That scared of me? Am I that infamous? 

"You, in the back. Go and bring your commander." 

"Yes!" 

In an instant response to his demand, the Gold Cloak ran out of the brothel. He didn't even bother to look back, just ran like his life depended on it. 

Bam!

Meanwhile, Wylis kicked the Gold Cloak who threatened Chataya. "I heard that you harassed the girls before. That's equal to kicking my coin. Am I that forgettable? Must I take your heads and hang them outside to remind men like you what I can do?"

That was what Wylis had. A Lannister had gold and prestige to scare others. He had pure physical strength and his reputation from the war. Being the man who even killed the Mad King and saved the city, his name was enough to scare many. 

"N-No, my Lord. I didn't know this was—"

“Had I not stepped in, you would have pressed on? So you would unsettle the city's trade at any cost. That makes you a liability. Perhaps taking your heads is truly the best option.”

"No! M-My lord! Please!"

The Gold Cloak begged and latched onto Wylis’ leg. 

Interesting. He's scared shitless. I should check the rumors circling about me. 

Right then, the commander of the city watch arrived, an unremarkable man in full plated armor, the official attire of the Gold Cloaks. 

"Lord Kaiser?"

"Commander Stokeworth, your fine lads have something to own up to. I’m certain they’ll be eager to tell you the truth. I’ve been asking them kindly enough. Isn’t that so?" He kicked the man whose name he still didn't bother to ask. 

For some time, the Gold Cloak looked between Wylis and the commander. Then, with a gulp, he started chirping everything out. All the dirt he had on himself. All the extortion attempts. His plans to use the brothel for free and leave. 

Wylis had sheathed his blade and stood with arms crossed. He really didn't see the need for bloodshed. Besides, he wanted to leave the city the next morning. Killing the Gold Cloaks meant seeing Robert again and explaining what had happened.

"Commander Stokeworth, this brothel is partially owned by me. See that the Gold Cloaks are warned: meddle not in its trade. Or in any trade, though I won’t pretend I expect better. As for these four, kill the rambling one, spare the other three. Inform Ser Barristan first, and say Lord Wylis proposed the punishment," Wylis declared. Heck, even Robert would blindly bash his hammer on the man just as an excuse to grab the hammer again.

Slightly taken aback, Commander Stokeworth chose not to argue or be lazy. He made the other three Gold Cloaks grab the first one and drag him along. 

"So we're partners now?"

He looked towards Chataya. "We are as far as they’re concerned. My name will keep them wary for some time yet.”

Chataya hummed and tapped his arm. "Thank you."

"No need. Just send me a decent blacksmith or carpenter, any man worth his tools. That'll be enough payment for our partnership." 

"That I can do."

After that, they returned to her private chambers. They spoke for some time, mainly about the matters of King's Landing. He didn't ask, but she told him many things, information that usually costs money. In return, he told her about the North, about Ramsgate and the Boltons. She was really interested in that because not much word flowed down from the North.

They ended their unplanned meeting with a quick, confusing peck, as they both hesitated over whether they should or not. But they did it in the end and parted ways. 

Wylis headed back to his ship, and Chataya had girls to manage. 

####

The Howling Cat, 

The Howling Cat was the name of the ship that Brandon Stark was admiral of. He named the ship that because he wanted to name the future carrack the Howling Wolf instead. A big ship for a proud name. 

But when Wylis pointed out that folks might associate Cat in the ship's name with Catelyn Stark, the woman that Brandon was supposed to marry, things got awkward. Brandon pondered renaming the ship, but it was considered unlucky.

In the end, Brandon accepted his command. Though he was just the second in command, learning from Wylis. It was even more confusing for Brandon because, as far as he knew, Wylis had never even ridden a ship, let alone steer one. So how did the giant of Winterfell captain it so well?

Nonetheless, that was a thought for later. Right now, Brandon Stark was stuck with fifteen murderers and rapists, babysitting them to ensure they didn't jump off the ship and vanish inside King's Landing. 

"Orys! For the last fucking time, if you try to run again, I'll cut your throat and swim in your blood!" Brandon roared at the sailor. "Listen, if you bolt now, you'll be hunted, not free. Lord Wylis will hunt you down himself. Do the job, earn real coin, and you'll walk away a free man. That's the deal."

It was frustrating. Being stuck amongst that many wretches meant always keeping an eye on your own back because gods know who may strike first. Their eyes were full of treachery, always seeking a chance to escape or worse. 

They had barely reached King's Landing alive in twenty days. Halfway, they had to quell an uprising as the fuckers divided themselves into two camps and waged battle. Wylis and he had to knock each one of them down to bring them to their senses. 

"Eh, just once, M'lord. Haven't had a cunt in years. So many pretty lasses around here."

"..."

"Hear! Hear!"

The other sailors shouted. 

"You've got coin for a whore?" Brandon asked.

There was complete silence. 

Brandon sneered at their faces and spat off the ship, only for his spit to land on some poor manual laborer who cursed back. But Brandon ignored that and only looked at the wretches. "Ha! I know you bastards well enough. You wouldn’t need a coin, not you lot, you’d just drag the first one you fancied off the street."

The men looked away, as if embarrassed. 

Thankfully, right then, he saw Wylis boarding the ship, loosely holding a large sack on his back with Gods know what. "Finally! Free me from this madness. I'm done, I'll be back before sunset."

Brandon just jumped away, hearing Wylis interrogate the sailors as the last words. He rushed to the Street of Silk and ran into the most decent whorehouse, though nothing expensive. Women and wine, only that could quell his true thirst. 

The ship was fucking cursed. He could already feel it. No way taking criminals on the first voyage could bring good luck. 

####

Morning, King's Landing,

The Howling Cat was indeed cursed. As soon as they set sail come morning, clouds covered the sky, rain poured like madness, and the sea became violent. It was their first storm in that cog as the journey from Ramsgate was a smooth sail. 

“Shorten sail! Shorten sail and heave to!” Wylis shouted.

"Heave to, aye!"

Say whatever, those wretches really knew how to man the small ship, saving it from being thrashed in the sea. And since Wylis was actually giving the right commands at the right time, the sailors followed his word. 

"Fuck! Fuck this!"

Brandon was a cursing mess, facing his first-ever storm at sea. The water was so violet that if any of them were to fall, survival was impossible. Well, not unless that person was Wylis. 

Normally, it took two to three days to reach Dragonstone, but it took them five, having to sail carefully in the storm. And it really was a storm, as it lasted for nearly two days straight. 

When they neared Dragonstone, the sun was setting once again. It was going to be a moonless night, and the sea surrounding Dragonstone was dotted with the royal fleet. They were all anchored with no intention of moving. 

In no time, they were boarded by whoever was commanding the blockade in Lord Stannis' absence. And sure enough, it was an interesting man. 

"Lord Kaiser."

"Ser Davos Seaworth." Wylis greeted him back with a warm smile. "We meet at last."

"Didn’t know I was worth talkin’ about, M’lord." 

"Not easy to forget a man they named the Onion Knight," Wylis said with a chuckle and invited the man to the middle of the ship's deck. He'd have taken him to the captain's quarters if there were any. The ship was a tiny cog, not a real three or four-masted carrack. They only had a tiny, makeshift cabin prepared for Rhaella later.

"Well? What’s holding you, M’lord? Any word for me from King's Landing?"

Of course, Ser Davos thought that. Wylis was amongst the closest allies of the current King. It made complete sense. 

"I’m afraid not, Ser Davos. The ship needs mending, and I need rest. The storm near tore her apart, poor thing. First time I captained my own vessel, and the sea near made me regret it. I’ll sleep a bit before I start barking orders again."

"M’lord knows how to captain a ship?"

“And tie the sails too,” Wylis said with a grim smile. “Gods, I’ve no love for this work, that much’s certain.”

"Give it a few years, M’lord, and you’ll find a ship feels more like home than any bloody castle." Ser Davos laughed. "But I saw it, the storm was rough. Best you take shelter on my ship, M’lord. She’s sturdy, and there’s room, and ale aplenty."

"Would love to, Ser Davos, but…" Wylis stepped closer and whispered his situation, revealing that the sailors were mostly wretches and couldn't be left alone.

Ser Davos eyed the sailors then, and he probably saw something in their shameless, hungry eyes that he shuddered. "Aye, they’re countin’ on that fine sword of yours. I’ll see you fed and watered, least I can bloody do."

Exchanging a few nods after that, Ser Davos left, and Wylis took a silent sigh of relief. It was good that Ser Davos didn't press him for anything. Though, from him simply being there made it harder for Wylis as well. 

"So? What's the plan?" Brandon asked, staring at Dragonstone in the distance. 

"Davos is a master smuggler; he knows all the secret ins and outs, and probably has eyes on them. I'll have to take the one route nobody else would dare to." 

At Wylis' words, Brandon looked towards the castle, mainly the cliff side on which the castle sat. The edge of that side was basically a massive cliff formed by the island's stone base and then the towering walls of the castle. 

"That's fucking suicide!" 

"I'll manage. Not the first time I’ve climbed dangerous heights." Wylis gave the sailors a hard look, catching their eyes quickly before they turned away. "Watch yourself. They’re up to something again."

"These ugly shits." Brandon cursed. "If we didn't need them."

“Easy now. Let the sun set first. We’ll act after we see how deep their folly runs.”

####

Night fell, and darkness covered the entire sea. 

From the cog, only the flickering lights of Dragonstone were visible, the walls of the castle manned. Then there were the flickering lights of the various ships around them. The sea was gentle, but still loud.

Loud enough to suppress all the shouts, screams, and cries. 

"We can’t kill every last one, Brandon. Someone’s got to sail us back."

"Half?"

Wylis stared at the fifteen men on the ship's deck, each holding a stick or something else to use as a weapon. After a month on that ship, they seemed to have overcome their differences, united together, and decided to just get rid of the two men who held their leash. 

"Let's do that. Half." Wylis drew his sword, a shorter one since space was limited. He didn't have the help of Earthbending on the ship, but he really didn't need it to deal with a few wretches. 

"What’s their grand plan then? Steal the bloody ship and sail off to nowhere?" Brandon scoffed, drawing his sword. "Idiots, the lot of them. No surprise they ended up as outlaws."

Wylis took the first step forward, not wanting to waste too much time there. "Last chance. Lay down your sticks and get back to work."

"There are fifteen of us and just two of you. We're taking this ship, either with your dead body or without your dead body," said one of the sailors. 

Wylis sighed and didn't try to talk again. He raced forward with the shortsword held sideways. He ducked a little, gave no time to the sailors to respond, and just swiped a massive arch with his sword. 

"Argh!"

"Fuck!"

"Gods!"

The sailors tried to block Wylis' strike; of course, they did. But their sticks lost to Wylis' blade. They cracked with a loud splinter, and blood sprayed everywhere. Not deadly, but enough to throw the three men back, long gashes marring their chests or shoulders. 

Ting!

[New Side Quest - Insect Infestation!
Description - A Tyrant stands above all. A Tyrant tolerates no mutiny, nor disrespect. Purge the insects who dare to. (0/15)
Reward - Ability: Eye of the Judge, know a criminal merely by the way of speech, the way of standing.]

Sweet reward! Damn! But I can't kill all of them. Not yet. 

"Everyone! Attack together!" 

Wylis chuckled at their new strategy. They wanted to beat him by sheer numbers. But their dream was futile, like a few dozen men fighting a gorilla. The gorilla would always win, although maybe a bit tired near the end. 

And Wylis had a wolf at his side. 

"Haaaa!"

The sailors jumped at Wylis and Brandon together. They were mostly thin to begin with, so it looked like a few little monkeys fighting two giants. And the giants were winning with ease. 

"Gaaaah!"

Wylis kicked one man, sending him flying to slam into the only mast of the ship. But four or five more were around him, swinging their sticks that they had sharpened on one end as a spear. 

But what they were doing was only annoying, not threatening. And they had no hand-to-hand combat experience, something Wylis was an expert of. He blocked one pointy stick by smashing it away with the back of his hand and stabbed with his sword. 

At that same time, he did a horse-kick, breaking the ribs of another. 

Groans, cries, and shouts rang all over the deck for some time. Wylis killed the four who attacked him, and Brandon did the same on his side. 

"Stop!" Wylis shouted. "Only seven left!" 

He needed at least that many to return home. While the cog was small, it was also inefficient and needed too many men to operate. He had plans to reduce the need to just five men in the future, but for now, he had no other option. 

"The rest of you! Choose now. Stay and die for nothing, or live proper under my command." His gaze cut across the seven men who shrank from him, dropping their spears. "Speak before I count to five. One!"

"We'll work!"

"Aye!"

"Forgive me, M'lord!"

"I'll work!"

So scared, they agreed right away. But that wasn't enough for Wylis. 

"Brandon, fetch the chains. I’ll fasten them to their posts myself. They’ll stay put till we’re home."

It took them an hour, but they eventually tied every single one of them. The sailors assisted themselves to be chained down, too scared of all the blood and dead bodies around them. 

Wylis went to the lower decks after that and began changing his clothes, wearing an all-black attire, like a ninja from his past life. He draped his legs tightly, ensuring no loose cloth would get stuck on rocks when he'd climb. Then he covered his entire head, leaving only his face bare, which he also painted black using some charcoal paste, to ensure light wouldn't reflect on his pale skin. Finally, he slung a thick bundle of ropes around his shoulder and waist, tied his short-sword to his back, and prepared to head out. 

"Try not to die, aye?" 

"Not planning to," Wylis said, giving everything one last look. "If Ser Davos sends his men and they ask for me, tell them I’m resting. Leave the corpses where they lie. Say there was a mutiny. That should keep them from stirring me."

Brandon nodded, his usually carefree expression marked with worry for Wylis. 

Finally, he opened a side hatch on the floor under the deck and threw a small rowing boat into the water. Then, with two oars in his hands, he jumped down, landing unsteadily on it.

Ting!

[New Side Quest - A Promise Kept
Description - A Tyrant's word is absolute. You promised Rhaella to be there when she needs you the most. The time has come to be there. Save her, take her home, give her the happiness she never saw.
Reward - Queen Rhaella's Undying Love & New Title]

So it begins. Wylis saw the prompt flashing before his eyes. He didn't like the fact that her love was a reward. He wanted to believe that it was all natural and not something that the Tyrant's Squire forced to happen. 

Nonetheless, he started to row. 

It was absolute darkness; he didn't bother bringing a torch with him. After all, six months was an acceptable price for night vision. It wasn't absolute; he still felt it was very dark, but he wasn't blind to his surroundings anymore. He knew what was around him, though that was true only for large things. For little rocks, insects, or animals, he couldn't see them.

He rowed nonstop towards the cliffside of the island, and it took him a little over an hour. He had to avoid the royal fleet, and the moonless night helped. But still, nearing the cliffside, the waves were rough. 

They thrashed into the stones again and again, pulling and pushing his little boat. But he was finally in his zone and used Earthbending to raise a platform right underneath his boat, attached to the cliff. 

Once the platform was half a meter above the sea level, he got out and tied the boat there, ensuring his escape wouldn't get swept away. 

Then he looked up at the mighty tall cliff and the walls of the castle. It was a daunting task, and time was of the essence. He needed to escape with Rhaella before sunrise. Also, he had to climb while creating steps that Rhaella would use to climb down with him.  

Let's be brutal. 

He decided to be fast and use Earthbending to its extreme. He'd never done it, focused on multiple things at the same time. He knew how to make a single step at a time, but to make a dozen at once, that was new. 

Finally, he raised his hand towards the coarse cliff and started making gestures. Rocks exploded, flew past him to fall into the sea. The sea that he didn't realize was turning violent. 

Boom!

The waves were too loud. They hid all the noise he made. At once, he carved a stairway into the cliff, ten steps at once. The plan was to make them in a zig-zag formation. 

Boom!

With waves of his hands, he kept carving staircases. He reckoned if he could walk on them with his size, Rhaella would be able to as well. He was fast, unsophisticated, and violent with Earthbending. There was no reason to be subtle, for nobody was watching. 

Tap, tap…

"Hm?" He felt water droplets on his face all of a sudden. When he looked up, all he saw was the outline of clouds, an endless canopy of them. When he looked down, the sea had become violent. "Fuck! A storm? Now?!" 

He cursed under his breath and weighed his options. To return to the ship and wait, or continue. In that storm, even if he were to save Rhaella, escaping would be hard. But the storm was also the best time to escape. 

And…

It's gone… shit!

The little boat he had brought was fully submerged in water. He didn't know if it was even there anymore. 

With that, he stopped carving the staircase and just started crawling up on the cliff, digging his hands and toes into gaps he'd make with Earthbending. His speed increased significantly with that, and before long, he found himself climbing the castle's walls. 

The storm only grew stronger, however. The rain made visibility low. But eventually, he reached the top and tried to peek through the gaps in the battlement.

There were soldiers, the last I checked. 

However, all he saw were empty shields and helmets hung on wooden poles. Placed in a way that the one observing from a distance would think there were soldiers. 

Castle's unguarded? 

He finally jumped onto the walls and looked all around. The many torches had already been doused due to the rain. The only visible light was from the many small windows of the castle. 

It didn't take long before he picked the highest tower of the castle and started climbing towards it, going through many smaller towers first. Dragonstone was built like a fortress that kept going higher in the middle. 

After climbing a few of the towers, he finally reached the last one, the highest. He grabbed the protruding bricks he personally made and scaled the wall like it was a ladder. Randomly, he peeked inside any window or balcony he found to see if Rhaella was inside. 

And eventually, right as he got closer to the top of the castle, he found the biggest balcony yet; it looked regal, and the height it sat on revealed it was meant to be unscalable. When he peeked through it, he beamed brightly.

There she is!

Rhaella Targaryen, as stunning as ever, despite the exhausted look on her face. She stood proudly, her gown elegant and solemn, her belly round with life, with Daenerys. However, her violet eyes were filled with fear, dark circles marring them.

“We have to move before it’s too late. If not the sea, then Robert’s wrath will find us. And I’d sooner face the waves than his mercy.”

Who the fuck is that? 

He saw the old man speaking with the ex-queen. Seeing the sword on his waist and the light armor on him, it didn't take him long to discern the identity. There was only one old-looking knight with Rhaella. 

Wasting no time, he climbed over and entered the balcony. He moved fast to hide behind one of the larger pillars, hoping to take the knight by surprise and knock him down. He had no desire to save him. The less people know, the better. 

"Hide, my Queen. Who's there?"

Alas, his wet footsteps betrayed his innate stealth ability. The already alert and scared knight turned around with sword unsheathed. 

No point in hiding. He's at least loyal to her.

"Come out, you assassin scum!"

Finally, Wylis came out of hiding, proudly standing tall, one hand on his sword's hilt and the other waving. "Hello there."

"W-Who sent you? You shan't pass me!" 

"..."

Wylis wanted to deal with this calmly, but the old knight charged at him. He saw the redness in the knight's eyes, a sign of sleep deprivation. 

"We're on the same side, Ser Willem." He hoped to wake him up by taking his name. 

"Lies! You think you can deceive me? You climbed a straight wall ten floors high? No man can! Die, you vile demon of darkness!"

With a sigh, Wylis dodged the knight before gripping the blade with his bare hands. The old knight was far too weak for him. "Listen, I know how this must look. I blackened my face to keep to the shadows. I’m only here for Rhaella, to take her with me."

"Lord Wylis?"

Finally! Wylis fondly looked towards the large cupboard as Rhaella walked out of its shade. Her eyes were wide, hopeful, and already on the verge of tears. 

"There you are!" He shouted and just shoved the old knight sideways with so much strength that the man practically flew. He didn't care and engulfed the woman in his arms, squeezing the warmth out of her until her chest flattened on him. He'd have kissed if his face wasn't painted black. 

"Oh, Wylis!" Rhaella wept, her false shield of strength and confidence breaking in his embrace. 

"I told you, didn't I?" He kissed her forehead, painting comically large black lips there. “You’d find me when you need me most, and here I am.”

He felt her arms tighten around him, her face practically flattened on the middle of his chest. She wept so loudly, even channeled out a few curses. 

Must have been tough, knowing you're stuck with no hope. Yet still having to keep a strong face. 

He patted her back the entire time and caressed the back of her head with the other hand, giving her the reassuring warmth she likely needed. 

"You ensnared the Queen? You vile—"

Yet he became alert when the knight attacked from behind. Without pushing Rhaella away, he unsheathed his blood-soaked sword and blocked the strike, then gently released Rhaella and parried.

"Run away, my Queen! Look… his sword drips with blood! He… he killed the maids!" 

What the… He's insane. 

"What? Gods, no. I didn't kill the maids."

"Then whose blood is that?"

Blood? 

That was when Wylis looked down at the short-sword in his hand. Sure enough, it was covered in blood. He sighed, realising the folly, he was in such a rush after killing the sailors. 

"This… Uh, there was a bit of a mutiny aboard my ship, so I had to kill all my sailors." He explained. "To save you, I had to man the ship with murderers and rapists, knowing I would cut them down afterwards. That way, no one but us would know I rescued you or where I carried you."

"Don't believe him, Your Grace! He's the reason why you're hiding here like this."

Wylis sighed and relaxed a bit, keeping Rhaella behind him. "Ser Willem, I killed because I had no choice. Had I stayed my hand, I’d be the one lying cold, and Rhaella would still be the Mad King’s prisoner. I couldn’t let her rot in that cage forever."

Ser Willem sneered. "You ex—"

"Don’t!" Wylis snapped. "Don’t play the fool. You knew what that bastard was doing to the Queen. Half the realm did. You saw the madness for what it was. Don’t dress your loyalty up as blindness."

Ser Willem instantly looked away, as if ashamed of his own loyalty. 

Wylis looked back at Rhaella, his hand gentle on her face. “I should’ve carried you off when I had the chance. I won’t make that mistake again. The storm will hide us. I’ll row us to the ship myself.”

"I won’t fool myself into finding comfort in my torment. I’ll go with you, Lord Wylis." Rhaella leaned into his touch, voice trembling. "Lead the way."

"No!" Ser Willem shouted suddenly, but instead of chagrin at Wylis, he charged towards a small table. And for no reason, the old knight slammed himself into it, destroying the table. Then the man moved to the bed, swinging his blade a few times. Then he did the same with any clay pot there, or the curtains. 

This man… 

Wylis saw right through the act. He sighed in silence and watched. 

In mere moments, the entire chamber was turned into a ruined mess.

Then at last, the panting, tired, old knight walked over to Wylis, sword raised. "She’s not going anywhere, not while I still draw breath."

"Ser Willem," Rhaella called for the old knight, finally realizing what he was doing. "You must come with us."

"Your Grace, it’s my duty to keep you safe, and I’ll damned well do it till I draw my last breath. Lord Wylis is no friend to the Crown," Ser Willem declared. 

Wylis sighed and raised his shortsword, already aware that nothing could change Ser Willem's mind. This was the old knight's last stand. Ser Willem clearly saw how close Rhaella was to him. And most likely believed that she'd be safe with him. Yet, the old knight couldn't bring himself to let her go like that. Moreover, he couldn't follow, the fewer people knew of her fate, the better. And even if he were to follow, his presence alone would raise suspicion. 

By dying at his hands and all the destruction he caused in that chamber, Robert's men will be confused. 

"Fight me!" Ser Willem shouted, panting hard, his eyes firm, a man who had accepted his fate. 

Wylis said nothing and charged forward, a quick swing at the knight's head. 

Clank!

Ser Willem blocked, but Wylis was already following it with a straight stab, far quicker than the old knight. The battle was never supposed to last long. 

Wylis found the opening and stabbed square in the center of Ser Willem's chest, piercing the blade through. The heart gave way quickly.

"Gaah!" 

Ser Willem fell to his knees, his grip lost on the sword. He just stared at Wylis and grabbed the very blade that had pierced his heart. He groaned and yet spoke.

"K… Ke—Keep them… safe… my… Lord…"

Wylis merely nodded and pulled back his sword, allowing the knight to land flat on his back, still, dead. 

Loyal fools. First, the Kingsguards, and now you. 

With a sigh, he sheathed the blade and turned to the Queen. He shook her a little, waking her from her tearful state. "Where is Viserys? We must leave quickly!"

"F-Follow me."

He ran after Rhaella to the adjacent bedchamber. Viserys was sleeping in his bed calmly with no care in the world. There were many toys littered around the room. 

It was conflicting. He really didn't want to save the boy. Yet, he didn't want to kill him with his own hands. He hoped the boy would get himself killed soon. He was a liability waiting to explode. At the same time, he at least wanted to try and straighten him out. Wait for one slip-up, just one excuse to slay him once he’s grown. 

“Don’t wake him.” Wylis caught her by the arm and stepped to the bed. He pulled a small metal vial from his cloak, uncorked it, and held it beneath Viserys’ nose. “You know as well as I do he won’t go quiet. This will keep him asleep till we’re done.”

Rhaella trusted Wylis with her life already. Her loyalty towards him was at a hundred percent since the night he left her in the castle. She said nothing and let him do his thing, even lifting the boy on his shoulder like a sack. 

"We need a boat. The one I came in was tied at the cliffside. Storm’s likely taken it by now."

"I know the docks, the private ones. They’re watched, I’m certain, but the storm will cover us. Still… we'll need a lantern to—"

"Don't worry about that. Just lead the way."

Rhaella obeyed and frantically rushed ahead of him. She checked every corner before gesturing for him to follow. They couldn't risk being seen by the maids. The castle was mostly empty otherwise.

Wylis kept a sword unsheathed in one hand and held Viserys on his shoulder with the other. He followed her down the staircase, and it was a lot of steps. They seemingly went down deeper into the stairs carved into the stone base of the castle itself. Then, through a few long passages, they arrived at a very large cavern. 

Must have been used by the dragons. 

He was awed at the sheer scale of how large the cavern was. But at the same time, he had to take the lead and hold Rhaella's hand since she had to put away the torch. He used his night vision to lead to the mouth of the large cave. The sound of the storm became so loud that it was terrifying. 

Eventually, they found small boats parked on the dry grounds, a distance from the water, but the real challenge was getting out of that trap, the waves thrashed into the cave's grand opening like a barrier.  

"Get into the boat." He ordered her, and then laid down Viserys as well. He then looked around and eventually found a small bucket. The rain was going to slowly fill the boat, so he wanted to be prepared. 

Fuck, this one's going to be tough. 

He gulped when he got a glimpse of the stormy waters with thunder striking. The sea was raging, the rain was rough. He was certain he'd survive swimming in that water, but if Rhaella were to fall. 

Too fucking risky. 

“Out of the boat,” he growled. “I’ll go myself and bring the ship near the cavern, as close as I dare without losing it to the waves. Then I’ll tie a rope and haul it back here. We’ll use it to steer the boat.” He explained his plan, which was impossible to accomplish unless you had the strength of a dozen bulls. Rhaella was lucky that Wylis was there. 

"Lord Wylis, what if…"

"I can swim in those waters, Rhaella. You can’t, not as you are. I’ll make sure it’s safe before we go."

"Let's wait," she suggested. "Let's wait for the storm to calm down. It will eventually." 

That was also an option. But if the storm lasted for too long, then he'd lose the darkness. There were too many ships blockading the castle. 

Once again, thunder crackled. Wylis saw the waves in the distance, so high that they covered the mouth of the cave. He was powerful, reaching the limit of human strength. But he couldn't fight nature. He couldn't afford to underestimate nature. The waves would definitely sink the little boat. 

"Let us… wait then."

He climbed into the boat as well and sat close to Rhaella. She was quick to scoot closer and hug his arm, leaning into him. He was the sole source of hope now. 

Wylis kept his eyes locked to the outside, watching the sea with every flash of thunder. During the first hour, he barely blinked. But then two hours passed, and he started to feel sleepy. When the third hour passed, his eyes were closed. 

"Lord Wylis!"

When he woke up, five hours had passed, and the sky had started to turn bright. It was still dark, but his night vision let him see much better. He stood up with a frantic jump and eyed the waves. 

“It’s not over, this storm, but the waters are quieter and the rain’s fading. We’ll make it.”

He wasted no time and jumped out of the boat. Then he pushed it with all his strength, leaving a trail on the sand. A few dozen meters later, the water finally started to lighten the boat. Once he felt water reach his own knees, he jumped in and grabbed the oars. 

Splash! Splash!

It was still not easy to steer. As the waves made landfall, they kept him trapped in the same spot. But he made progress by riding the waves. He felt his arms go sore already, but he still pushed. 

Splash after splash, wave after wave. The sky was brightening too fast, and time was of the essence. 

Rhaella sat opposite him, holding Viserys tightly, rain soaking them all. Viserys had actually woken up once, and as expected, screeched about Wylis being the traitor. He was knocked out by that mystery vial again. 

"Fuck!" He cursed when he looked behind at Dragonstone. He was on the wrong side of the island. His ship was on the other side. But who was he to complain? 

Ugh… I can't feel my arms. 

Teeth gritted, he poured his life into rowing. A few times, the boat almost overturned, but he managed. He wished he had Waterbending in those moments. 

Slowly, he eventually rowed into the open sea in the right direction. The ships still had visible lanterns, and the Howling Cat had too many lanterns, different from the rest of the royal fleet, to make it easier for him to recognize. 

It stood out amongst all the others, and he rowed towards it. As he did that, the storm also started to pass, the waves started to become gentle, and the rain nearly came to a stop. But thankfully, the thin, morning fog provided some cover. But it was too thin, enough to hide how many figures were rowing the boat, but not enough to hide the boat itself. 

"Just a little." He assured the scared woman. 

I'm never doing this shit again. 

Too many popped blisters coated his palms. It hurt like hell; his blood covered the poles. He really couldn't feel his arms and his chest anymore. His muscles were sore and screaming at him. But as the Howling Cat grew bigger in the distance, a wave of energy rushed him. 

The closer they got, the faster he rowed, and by the time the sky turned bright, the boat tapped on the cog's hull. 

"About time you showed that royal arse of yours again! Ah, I didn't mean you, Your Grace."

Wylis chuckled at Brandon's call from above, already working to throw down a rope ladder. He then helped Rhaella first to climb it and reach the deck. Then, he slung sleeping Viserys on his shoulder and climbed up. His palms burned whenever he touched a surface. 

“Raise the sails! We’re off!” he barked the moment his boots hit the deck. “Brandon, fetch me the spirits. The kind used for mending.”

"Ugh…" He sat down on the deck and looked at his hands. In daylight, the damage was visible. They looked ugly, as if rotten, broken skin, blisters popped, and blood oozed. 

"Wylis!" Rhaella knelt by his side with a gasp. 

"It’s nothing. I’ve lived through worse," he said, and received the bottle of clean alcohol from Brandon. It was his and Qyburn's creation to clean wounds. He did just that, even if it burned like hell. Of course, he diluted it a bit first. Then he used an ointment that was also his and Qyburn's creation. Finally, he tied both hands with cotton strips. 

Done with the first aid, he stood up, thankful that he got that nap in the cave before. "Brandon, take her to the small cabin we set for her. I’ll sail us out of here."

Wylis had a reason behind rushing. He had saved Rhaella, brought her to his ship, yet he hadn't received a quest completion ping. That meant she was still in danger. 

The sailors asked him no questions and just got to work. At his command, the sails were set, and in no time, they started passing by the ships of the royal fleet. He didn't bother to wave at any, already done with the fucking Blackwater Bay.

What can threaten her now? 

He dared not lower his guard. Even when he ate, he stayed on the deck, using the far-eye to see any passing ships or the weather. He wasn't worried that someone would chase since the royal fleet had no plans to make a land invasion of Dragonstone. It would take days before they'd learn of Rhaella's disappearance. 

By the middle of the day, they crossed Claw Isle, a good distance from Dragonstone. The sea remained gentle from there, even sunny and clear. The blue water of the Narrow Sea also gifted them the right wind. 

When night fell, they were passing by the Bay of Crabs. As the sea remained gentle, he let Brandon take the command, and he went to rest a little right where Rhaella was. He spoke with her a bit, and she seemingly couldn't stop herself from embracing him time and time again, as if in disbelief that he really saved her. 

He decided to stay with her, hold her close. Although the cabin was makeshift for her and the bed wasn't large, he was able to fit her snug against his chest while he slept. Viserys was also there, sleeping on some bedding on the floor. He had woken up hours ago, thrown a tantrum, challenged Brandon to a duel, and got his ass whopped, then went back to sleep. 

On the second day, Wylis had a private chat with Viserys. He used the ability granted by Rhaella's loyalty. All Targaryens were genetically fearful and fond of him. So, he scared the boy to the point he wet his pants. 

But, while doing that, he also tried to brainwash the boy. Made him understand the reality of how weak he was. How was he a nobody? How his little arms and legs couldn't even save his mother, let alone win back the kingdom. 

So, Wylis gave the boy a task. He was to train with the blade and grow strong. The day he can defeat him in a sword duel, Wylis would not only let him fight for the throne but also support him in doing so. 

It was an impossible goal. Let alone him, Wylis knew that in time, Viserys wouldn't even be able to beat Magnus, his first son. After all, while Viserys had a human limit, he and his trueborn and bastards had the Tyrant's Squire's boost. 

From then on, it was smooth sailing. He made Viserys a wooden sword to train with. For the most part, the boy kept to himself. 

Rhaella was heavily pregnant with Daenerys, so Wylis didn't dare try anything with her, even though he felt those 'moments' come and go. At best, he kissed the ex-queen on the lips; he kissed her for dozens of minutes during their small talk in bed. 

She had lost everything. She had lost her firstborn son, and she lay in the arms of the very man who killed Rhaegar. Yet somehow, there was no awkwardness. She never mentioned it, and he didn't ask. 

Wylis snuggled with Rhaella a lot, kept his hands to himself for the most part, but occasionally he did get a feel of her behind. He also helped her comb her long, ashen hair, and then helped her dye it black. Also, he made Viserys bald as per the usual Targaryen ritual at that point. Then he painted the boy's brows. 

On the nineteenth day, thanks to good wind, they saw a glimpse of Ramsgate. As the port town grew bigger, Wylis noticed the trees that had been cleared, and truly, the smallfolk had done a great job. 

Ting!

[Side Quest Completed - A Promise Kept
Description - A Tyrant's word is absolute. You promised Rhaella to be there when she needs you the most. The time has come to be there. Save her, take her home, give her the happiness she never saw.
Reward - Queen Rhaella's Undying Love & New Title]

Ting!

[New Tyrant's Title Acquired - Savior of Targaryens
Description - You have saved every living Targaryen that still exists. That's a feat worth noting, for the very act is worthy of a thousand rebellions.
Effect - Targaryen Loyalty Gauge]

Loyalty Gauge? 

Curious and a little pleasantly excited, he looked at bald Viserys. Sure enough, when he opened the Tyrant's Squire screen, there was a new option underneath the said title. One mental click on it showed Viserys' name and a number beside it. 

[Viserys Targaryen - 3% Loyalty]

Three? Damn, I'll take it. I expected zero. 

Then he looked at Rhaella, although he already knew what her loyalty score was. 

[Rhaella Targaryen - 100%+ Loyalty]

Plus? Huh? That's not even a real number. 

Before he could ponder more, he heard the bells of the small port. There was no other ships currently at the docks, so Wylis didn't worry about Rhaella and Viserys' identity. Still, he was going to call for a stagecoach from the castle first and then deboard. 

After all, he had seven bodies to deal with first. Although the seven had been at their best behavior during their return trip, they still had to die. Cruel, but necessary.

"Leave them to me." Brandon walked to his side as they looked at the docks where the ropes were being tied. 

“No. I’m the lord. I’ll see to their execution myself,” Wylis said, looking back at the mother and son. “Fetch the stagecoach and bring them to the castle. I’ve matters to look into first.”

"Which is?"

Wylis smiled; that blue screen was only visible to him. On it was a large map of his entire fief, and curiously, right in that small town, there were five new dots, all of them red. 

"Need to greet a few… guests."

________________________

Choice Question - Who should Brandon Stark's romantic interest be?

NOTE: Whoever gets picked won't ever be touched by Wylis. Bros before hoes, that rule is absolute.