An Oath to Keep

Chapter 1

"It's so hot. Your people must be very resilient, to live here."

Arthur Dayne turned around, saw how uncomfortable all of them looked, all red and sweaty. And smiled. "Welcome to the coldest part of Dorne, my lady," he said and looked up, exposing his face to the fading sun. It caressed him like a kiss of light, like a woman's touch, like all the things he had been denying and suppressing within himself for all those years. Yes, the sun was different here but brighter, warmer. Of course, the she-wolf would never feel it like he did. She probably longed for cold and a hint of snow already, love or not. Well, she should have stayed in her rooms then, not coming to watch us practice, he thought, ungraciously. Rhaegar was inside, engrossed by an old book, so she had no reason to be outside.

Ser Gerold gave him a steady look that Arthur did not even bother to shrug off. He was here, wasn't he? Guarding the Prince and his lady-love, as he was obliged to. He was dutiful and courteous enough. Becoming the she-wolf's friend was nowhere in his vows. If Rhaegar ordered it, he'd try, of course. But the Prince wasn't so lost in his new love as not to recognize that he shouldn't ask for the impossible.

"It's late," the girl said. "Would you sup with us – all of you?"

The others muttered an agreement, albeit uneasy. Arthur inhaled deeply. Damn it, why did she have to be so nice? Hadn't he shown clearly enough already that he was not interested in being in her company more than the absolute minimum required? At the same time, he could not help but admire his spirit. In her place, many a woman would have given up their attempts to break the ice. Not this one, though. She was as persistent as… snow.

"Thank you but no, my lady. I'm ready to take the night watch," he told his commander.

Ser Gerold sighed. Arthur was always volunteering to take the night watch when they were invited to share the Prince's table and he was always quick to start before it was even night. The White Bull had tried to be understanding but he would not tolerate such a blatant disapproval for another moment.

"You'll take it after you sup," he said, and Arthur nodded curtly.

There was still time before supper and as usual, Arthur headed for the top of the tower from where he could see the Red Mountains in their entire glory. He stared at their shape, turned golden and crimson under the halo of fire that was the rising sun and breathed the fresh breeze stroking his face, breathed Dorne in. How had he lived for so long without its swelter, without the cooling caress of the evening wind, without the whinnying of the sand steeds in their mountain pastures? His eyes were inevitably drawn to the far end of the mountain tops, to something he could not see, only feel. Starfall was there, so close and so out of reach. He longed to go there, to see Allyria whom he probably wouldn't recognize, to talk to Arel about small things of no importance.

How he had longed to escape once! How he had obsessed over the glory he had been sure awaited him! How he had wanted to make something of himself out of the isolation of Dorne, to be a part of something bigger, greater! And now he was trapped here on Rhaegar's whim when his mind, his conscience, his body even screamed that it was not right, that he shouldn't be here, that none of this should have happened, ever, in any place but this one least of all. It was when he had achieved his dream that he realized that in some recess of his mind, he was Dornish through and through. Just a recess but it spread like the pain from a battle wound, like the blood flowing in his veins. He was Dornish and he was restrained. The Tower of Joy, the Prince's love nest, had turned into Arthur's prison. His guard was his shame, his torment the memory of better, merrier days, Starfall, Sunspear, the Water Gardens…

"You can ask him to let you go to Starfall later, you know."

Ser Oswell's voice startled him. The other knight leaned against the railing next to Arthur and stared right ahead. "When… when this matter is solved, I am sure he won't refuse you."

Arthur turned to look at him and a bitter smile gave his lips a twist darker than the falling twilight. Ser Oswell was a good man, an honest man. He was the only one who understood, to some extent. He had been to Starfall with Princess Elia, he had seen Arthur in Dorne. He could vaguely feel how deeply Arthur's feelings of conflict, shame and betrayal ran while the others thought it was only a touch deeper than their own reluctance to be here. Kingsguard owed allegiance only to the Iron Throne, it was part of them.

In theory?

"There is no way back for me. My House has been the Martell's most trustworthy vassals for centuries. How can I go back after this?"

Ser Oswell looked uneasy, staring into the fading green of the mountains. "You are doing your duty."

"Aye," Arthur agreed. "My duty to the Prince. Doran Martell will so care. And my brother will be awed, I am sure." He laughed bitterly, ugly. "To them, I will be the man who assisted the offence given to Dorne." He paused. "I am this man," he added softly, thoughtfully.

"There is no offence…"

A handmaiden hurried through the courtyard below them with water from the well. For Lady Lyanna's bath, no doubt. She had bathed just in the morning, with the same huge amount of water. It was beyond indecent. For the inland of Dorne, water was as precious as gold and even those who were not likely to suffer from draught any time soon treasured it. Surely the girl did nothing so exacting to need two baths a day. Each drop of water she consumed for her leisure was a drop away from the huge cisterns that soon might make the difference between life and death for Dornish folk. Arthur turned to his sworn brother, not bothering to hide his anger. "Do you really believe it?" he asked. Even for people who did not guard their autonomy so fiercely, it would be a great insult and although the Kingsguard was not to judge the Prince's deeds, they could not expect of others to extend the same courtesy.

Ser Oswell turned his head aside. "Doran Martell is a man of sense," he said. "Surely he would recognize that the only thing that matters is the fact that his sister is the Prince's lawful wife."

Arthur bit back his retort and suddenly wished for the other man to leave. He would not disabuse him of his notions about the Prince of Dorne. Doran was a Martell and the Martells never forgot a slight. Arthur knew Doran would take it as a slight and further offence as soon as he found out there whereabouts and he suspected that Ser Oswell knew it, too. And although Doran would always place Dorne first, Elia's humiliation mattered to him. It mattered to Arthur, too, more than he cared to admit to himself. Elia was something that could only be looked, not touched. Never touched. A sun so distant that he could only stare. She was only to be admired. To have feats done in her name. To have him give life for her. She was the sister of the Prince of Dorne, the wife of the Crown Prince he had pledged his life to. And he could not help but feel that he had helped in her being exposed to shame. His vows bound him so tight that there was no air. No escape. He could never look her in the eye again. Not her. Not her brothers. Not his own siblings. Not a single one of the people he had grown up with, the people he had bonded with when too young to realize that he was bonding. Not that they would take him back. They didn't understand… but then, neither did he, right? If he truly understood, he wouldn't be this tormented now.

And if Rhaegar took the girl to wife? It wouldn't matter whether he'd send Elia away. If he took the girl to wife, that might be the end of it. Arthur fervently wished the Prince had enough common sense left. No prophecy could possibly fix this.

He looked down. He was starting to walk a fine line. It was his duty to obey, not judge, and he was dangerously close to do just this. Maybe it was a good thing that the Lord Commander had ordered him to humor Lady Lyanna. He had to keep his feelings for himself and the sooner he started, the better. Because what he was having now was starting to look like something entirely unacceptable.

Doubt.