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King's Landing, Red Keep
It was hell. Living like this was no better than being dead.
That was Cersei Lannister's mood in those days. From excited and hopeful to enraged and disgusted, her marriage had only lasted a few hours, not even a day. She believed Robert was a handsome, strong man.
She saw him as a less charming version of Wylis. She believed that and went to bed that night with him. Yet as the man mounted her, laying his claim, his whispered breath spoke Lyanna… Lyanna… Lyanna.
He was too heavy for her to do anything. She smacked his head and scratched his back to push him away. She yelled. Yet to him, they were moans. She wept, hearing that woman's name breathed down into her ear that entire time until he could no longer.
Drunk, spent, he collapsed on top of her.
Her wedding night had become her worst memory so fast. She loathed Robert Baratheon since that night. She even dared to face him, tell him what he did. Yet all he did was blame the wine.
"Mmmh…"
Yet for some reason, her body and heart grew more passionate. The man she believed to be a lesser version of Wylis turned out to be such a disappointment that now she was obsessed. At least once, just once, she wanted to feel that fortress of a man, face carved by the gods and… oh, she just imagined him between her legs and moaned.
Maybe an excuse to visit Ramsgate?
She pondered over countless scenarios. Wished it were Wylis who had somehow become the king. At that point, she found it more exciting that a stableboy rose so high. She'd have taken him as a king as well.
"Mmmmh."
Her one hand rubbed between her legs, one her breasts, as she sat in the rose petal-covered water, taking a bath in her royal chambers.
"Oh… I can only imagine."
She'd done this so many times before. Touched herself thinking of him. She remembered the bet she had made with Wylis at Harrenhall. He had guaranteed that she'd become the queen in a year or two. She'd scoffed at it and promised him gold and… two promises.
What if he demands me in his bed? Mmm… Please!
She was willing, ready, and quite honestly, in need of that very thing. She wanted to feel that hulking man on her, dominate her with his sheer size, and oh, his voice, she imagined him uttering the dirtiest things. She wondered how lucky the woman must be who married him. She must hear him groan and speak in need, from that charming mouth, a knight above knights, the greatest warrior in Westeros.
"Yes… So deep… Stretch me… yes, hold my hair! Bite my… breasts! Oh!"
She'd long ago accepted her desires. She usually liked to be in control. She liked having control over men, even during sex. Even if she allowed someone to mount her or take control, it was at her command. Of course, except for Robert.
But Wylis, oh, she wanted to give the reins to him. Let him do every ungodly deed to her body.
"Hhhhhu…" She shivered, writhed, splashing the water. Her legs rose up, high, feet above the water as her heels landed on the tub's edge. She felt it in her belly, the waves as she climaxed so hard.
And she still didn't feel satisfied. After all, her hand wasn't the real thing. All it did was make her more needy, more excited to feel Wylis inside. And one thing was true about her: the more she couldn't have something, the more she became obsessed with it.
No man had come close to Wylis' fame, martial prowess, and charm. Of course, Jaime was there, but even her brother had confessed that he couldn't beat Wylis. Even Ser Barristan doubted himself.
So indeed, she was obsessed.
But right then, one of her handmaidens came in through the door, meek and on her toes.
"Y-Your Grace, the King requests your presence."
Cersei snarled so hard. All the fond thoughts got instantly ruined by the mere mention of that man.
"For what reason?"
"Lord Tywin is here, Your Grace."
"Father?"
That got Cersei to get out of the water right away.
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Ting!
[Cersei Lannister Current Lust - 80%]
Robert's done it, hasn't he? Ruined his damn marriage.
Wylis woke up to that chime in Riverrun. He was doing nothing and still winning when it came to Cersei. The woman, for some reason, grew more and more infatuated with him. While flattering, it was also worrisome considering her status. Dealing with her would require him to tread a very thin line.
With a sigh, he got out of his bed, butt-naked, and walked over to the high window of the castle. He looked out, the view quite soothing as the castle had a clear view of many leagues around it.
Wonder if there's coffee out there.
Wylis felt the craving for the magical drink. And really, he wanted to commission a few ships with the sole purpose of going out there and bringing him new things. While he wanted to do it himself one day, currently, he had too many responsibilities.
After washing his face and rinsing his mouth, he got dressed up in casual clothes fitting for a noble lord. It had a somewhat personal touch as Wylis had instructed the maids to make him a certain type of pants.
Currently, around the world, most men commonly wear trousers that were called hose. They were tight-fitting. Of course, looser ones were available, but usually for riding. What Wylis had made the maids make was an actual modern pair of pants with hooks to tie around the waist, like those formal pants, but more loose.
Above, he wore a normal linen shirt, a doublet over it, and then a sleeveless surcoat that reached till his mid-thighs. It held his coat of arms on his back, sewn there by the maids. Finally, he tied the belt and put on his cloak that had fur on the shoulders. His attire was mostly all brown and black, giving him a rather dangerous air.
Beard's coming out.
He rubbed his chin and felt the stubble growing.
Finally, he fastened the dagger to his waist and flung his sword over his back. He rarely used it those days, but it did have a psychological effect on enemies.
"My lord."
"Chett. Any word from Lord Hoster?" He met his dutiful page right outside the door.
"Not yet, my lord. Lord Hoster was down in the dungeons all night, talkin' with the prisoners. But Ser Brynden's come 'round from your remedy. He's awake now."
"And Lord Blackwood? Couldn't find him last night."
"He's awaiting you by the training grounds."
"What's the wait then?" Wylis strolled away, eyeing the stone walls and the various structures, his senses sharp, noticing every hollow part with his Earthbending to see what secret tunnels the castle had. Heck, there were also some buried treasures in the castle, as his memory was telling.
Coming out of the castle's main keep, he arrived at the dirt grounds where a few wooden fences were erected to make circles for men to train in. Grunts and clanks of swords echoed throughout there.
"Lord Blackwood." Wylis approached the thin and tall man with a beard turning white. Nose hooked, hair long.
"Lord Kaiser!" Tytos turned from watching the men at their drills, a bright grin lighting his face. "By the gods, you're even mightier than I'd heard. An honor and a pleasure, truly, to meet the Tyrant of the Trident in the flesh."
"Hah, so that name's found its way to your ears too," Wylis said with a small laugh as he walked beside the lord. He'd not met him during the Rebellion, or maybe he just hadn't taken notice.
"My lord, modesty becomes a youth seeking favor, not one whose name already stirs songs. Reading and hearing about your rise is a story that has and will inspire countless across Westeros. My eldest son speaks of nothing else—Harrenhal, the bandit purge, your knighthood, the rebellion, your seat. Gods above, you've done more in a few short years than most houses do in centuries."
Wylis smiled at the praise. He could feel Lord Blackwood's true sincerity. Even if the man was buttering him, it was good buttering. "Thank you for the kind words, my lord."
"Truth, and nothing but the truth," Tytos said with a broad smile, tilting his head back to meet Wylis's gaze. "Come, let us sit a while. I rode here to speak with Lord Hoster about those wretched Brackens creeping over my borders, yet it seems the gods have seen fit to bless me with your company too."
Ah, the age-old feud.
The two sat down on a bench overlooking the training field.
"What can I do for you, Lord Blackwood?" Wylis asked directly.
"Nothing of the sort, truly. I only wished to speak with the man all call the mightiest warrior in Westeros. They say you've never lost, not in battle, a duel, or a war. Gods be good, it's a rare wisdom to keep such men as friends. And no, I've no wish to draw you into our quarrel with the Brackens. That feud was old before I was born and will outlive us both. You've troubles enough at Maidenpool besides."
"Aye, Maidenpool's a trouble, alright." Wylis nodded with a sigh, arms crossed, sitting there like a menacing mountain beside the thin man. He looked at his own men training, practicing basic stances and footwork. Chett was guiding them.
Ah… Didn't Tytos Blackwood have a tall son? What was his name? Monster? H-Hoster? Ah, that's it.
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