The Sword of the Morning
Hard stormy eyes glanced his way. The memories of the Stony Sept came flooding back to him, with the smell of rain and the feel of Dawn in his hands as Robert Baratheon swung his war hammer at him as if it was little more than a toy. A flurry of strikes that broke stoned walls and sent splinters of wood flying. A single landed blow would have shattered his bones.
In the hands of a true Sword of the Morning Dawn could defeat any man. He told Ashara this when they were children of summer.
Even an unworthy one like himself could defeat Robert Baratheon
Dawn sliced open Lord Roberts thick neck.
He saw little laughter within the blue eyes of Lord Renly. His face was as gaunt and unmovable as the Wall itself. They had sent the boy to the Wall along with his older brother at the end of Roberts Rebellion. Of all the rebel lords, it had been House Baratheon that had lost the most. Lord Arryn and Lord Stark received pardons and were welcomed into the Kings Peace. The Baratheon brothers lost their home and were sent to rot away in the snow. Lord Renly shot him looks that could cut. The Lord Commander was little better.
He clenches his jaw any further he'll shatter his teeth.
King Rhaegar commanded him to hold his post behind the desk. He loomed over the meeting in the Kings Tower as a watchful protector. A knight of the Kingsguard was never away from his king. No, it isn't that. Arthur knew sadly. I'm a reminder. And he had no choice but to obey.
"We always have choices, Arthur." Ashara once told him. "You can always make the right one." The ghost of his sister haunted him even at the end of the world. In life, he had failed to rescue Ashara from her own personal demons. Sorrow lived within her blood, even during the warmth of summer.
I'm sorry I'm not the knight you thought I was, Ash.
"My lords." Rhaegar's voice sounded songlike. It enchanted any who heard it. "I have listened to your reports on the Wildlings." He lied. "I had strong hope that with the capture of Mance Rayder, we would have been able to break the hold the Others had over the Wildlings." He played the burdened king masterfully. "But it seems they remain in league with the enemy of the living."
"A sad fact, your grace." Lord Renly smiled.
Lord Stannis gripped the armrests. "Yes, yes, agents of the Others." He said. "But what we need are barrels of food and crates of weapons. Twenty thousand men I hold within the ranks of our order. Duty demands I provide for them. Recruits require food in their bellies and steel in their hands. I have enough fools willing to swear the oath. By boat, they flood in from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms. Smallfolk, septons, knights, freeriders fools every one with songs of glory and eternal salvation swirling in their minds from every bard and septon south of the Neck. I hardly have enough to feed them with winter approaching." The tone was as blunt as a hammer, especially towards a king. When Rhaegar heard the words, he simply looked away with a thoughtful expression.
"What my brother means, your grace. We require more than is allotted if you wish to keep the Wall at full strength."
"I shall have my small council find the gold." Rhaegar clasped his hands together. "My thanks, sers, for bringing this to my attention." Prince Viserys would like it little Arthur knew, but his voice stood alone on the Small Council. Though mayhaps such was changing with the appointment of Lord Edmure. He played a dangerous game. Rhaegar was a dangerous man. The Tyrells and Lannisters will offer more coin, seeking to make their daughters and granddaughters queen. The greatest prize any lord could achieve, placing his blood on the Iron Throne. Who shall ascend to the Iron Throne? Publicly everyone agreed it would be Aegon, but men whispered behind close doors that Baelon may be named. Arthur wondered. His Grace had kept that secret to himself. Even Arthur didn't have an inkling of what His Grace designs were.
I don't wish to know. I wish I knew less.
"Now where were we?" Rhaegar weighed his thoughts, punctuating his decision with a sharp snap of his fingers. "Ah yes. Lord Stannis there are doubters within my court who require evidence of the Others to believe." The doubters were fools. Everything Rhaegar says is real. All the terrible things shall come to pass. I serve a monster, but his power was real.
The Baratheon brothers exchanged puzzled looks. "We hold no evidence of those creatures." Lord Stannis said.
"You shall find them. A Great Ranging to strike at the Others and her collaborators." Rhaegar declared. Lord Stannis clenched his jaw in response to the command, while Lord Renly's eyes twinkled with a cruel glint.
"Of course, your grace." He agreed. "Let us select the name of these men for this expedition." Names of their rivals were afforded the honor. They hope none of them return. Men with ties to House Targaryen.
Arthur cleared his throat. "Mayhaps the First Ranger should accompany the expedition as well?"
Rhaegar merely nodded along. "Tis unneeded Arthur. I'm content with the names offered." He waved them away. "But my son Prince Baelon shall take command." Arthur felt as if a horse had kicked him in the gut. You know he isn't ready. Arthur had tried, but the skill wasn't there to mold him anything beyond average. Prince Baelon lacked the maturity to lead men in battle. You know this! He pleaded to the Gods for someone to object. The Gods refused to listen to his pleas. Lord Stannis and Lord Renly only offered dutiful nods. Good men would die if he said nothing. Valiant Queen Lyannas son could die and she didn't deserve such sorrow. She had suffered enough at their hands.
I still have a shred of honor to my name.
The Baratheon brothers departed with stiff courtesy to carry out the orders of the king.
The door closed shut behind them, leaving him alone with a man he once named his friend.
"Your Grace." Arthur went to his knee. "Allow me the honor of command. I shall not fail you."
"A gallant offer ser, from my greatest knight, but I didn't dream of you in the snow."
"Prince Baelon isn't ready." He whispered. "I shall find this wight for you. I will not fail."
Rhaegar chuckled. "Arthur, you disappoint me. The comet hasn't even arrived yet. There shall be no wights to find."
"Then why-"
"Every hero needs to suffer a setback. It is written in the best songs."
Arthurs shivered, and it wasn't from the cold. "Hundreds of men will die."
"We've killed tens of thousands, Arthur. Men who didn't need to die, so others may be spared."
Arthur tilted his head down in shame as Rhaegar cut him down with words. Shameful words whispered into his ear. "Like my father." A Kingsguard protects the king, but I spilled his blood. "You know I could have killed him sooner before the Tourney of Harrenhal." A smile formed on Rhaegars face as he ran long thin fingers through his hair. "Was it easy to slice his wrists on the Iron Throne?" Rhaegar chuckled. "Father had that irrational belief the Kingsguard would never harm him." He refused to reply, holding his silence. The shame gnawed on him.
Kingslayer.
Oathbreaker.
A fallen star.
It had been easy holding the old man down. No one heard his muffled screams as he spilled the mad kings lifeblood. To the world, King Aerys merely cut himself on the Iron Throne. Rhaegar always made the truth of what he wanted.
He made me the most famous knight in the realm when he should be scorned as a kingslayer.
Every man, woman, and child knew of his exploits from Sunspear to Winterfell. It was everything the boy from Starfall wanted.
"If I prevented Roberts Rebellion, every living man would die. We killed thousands to save millions." Rhaegar reminded.
Do I believe that? Arthur knew he had too. He had already done too much.
Arthur soiled himself for his friend. Once he named Rhaegar a noble prince worthy of his fealty. His devotion didn't waver when they plotted against the Mad King at the Tourney of Harrenhal. Dawn was at his command. He would have died for him with pride. Arthur didn't waver when Rhaegar announced they needed to seize Lady Lyanna for the prophesy of Ice and Fire. I should have protested Arthur knew. But we were friends. I trusted him.
Fool! Fool! Fool!
"You don't care for the realm." Arthur whispered what they both knew. He was no knight of summer any longer. Only the applause of the audience interests you. The Queens love was wasted on him.
Rhaegar smiled. "You know me well. I do love an excellent performance."
It sickened him, but Rhaegar was the sole hope for the realm. There was power in his dreams and his voice.
Even if I wish to change course I've done too much to turn back now. He was The Bard Kings Knight until the day he died.
"Why do you tell me these things? Why no one else?" Arthur asked. None of the other knights of the kingsguard saw the monster underneath under the armor and crown. Barristan, Jaime, Oswell, and all of his brothers lived in sweet ignorance. It's only me. Gods, it's only me. It drove him mad.
"Because Arthur." Rhaegars' eyes dance like wildfire. "You're my greatest friend."
Arthur wished to weep. He means it. By the Seven, he means it.
"I've given you everything you wanted." Rhaegar reminded. "You wanted to be the greatest knight in the history of the realm, and I did that for you because we are friends. Every boy in the Seven Kingdoms knows of the Sword of the Morning. I spread your deeds across the realm. I fulfilled your greatest dream." Not like this. Arthur thought. Not like this. "Reputation." Rhaegar dwelled on the world. "Is so easily changed especially if we weren't friends." His heart sank. "Are we friends Arthur? I'd like to hear you say it." No being the Sword of the Morning was the only thing he had left.
"I'm your man your grace." Arthur vowed. "Until my last day."
Rhaegar squeezed his shoulder gently. "You've always been my favorite, Arthur. I don't even need to pretend with you. The joy of a friend." His tone was cheery. "Go with my blessing with Baelon. Save who you wish. My gift to you." He kissed him on the brow. "Arise ser. I promised my grand uncle Aemon a moment of my time. A king must keep his word and I have need of my knight by my side. Let us be off!" He chimed with quiet nobility and exchanged a knowing look. I know you Arthur, never forget that. The look said.
Baelon
Beautiful golden eyes stared into his own. He waved his hands through the white fur and rested his head against Ghosts steady beating heart. It trusted him without question. Over six months he brushed him, fed him, taught him tricks. Father had gifted him the puppy on his eighth name day. Ghost loved him unconditionally. He was his best friend. The greatest best friend a boy of eight name days could have. Once more he gazed up but found no sympathy in fathers pensive eyes. "Please, father." Tears streaming down his cheeks. "I love him." The river next to them made him green.
"The Prince who was Promised must hold a heart of iron Baelon."
"I can't, father." Baelon begged on his knees. "Ask anything else of me." He would be good and would fulfill his destiny like mother always told him. "Please." He clutched the edge of fathers cloak.
Father sighed and went down on one knee to his level. "Then you will fail your test, Baelon. You'll be wasting your potential. A destiny of awesome importance." And that was the only thing he wanted. It was unfair. He shook his head as he sobbed. Ghost was his friend, though. He didn't do anything wrong.
"I won't do it." Baelon declared. "You can't make me!"
"Baelon, Baelon, Baelon." Father shook his head and tilted his chin up. "Look me in the eye."
Baelon obeyed.
"Your exceptional potential is wasted on you."
Baelon tightened.
"It should have been Aegon." It burned him down to the bone until his limbs shook like leaves. "He's a true dragon. Unlike you." It wasn't true. He was special. The savior of every man, woman, and child in the Seven Kingdoms. His song would be the stuff of legend. Aegon was nothing compared to him. He was his inferior, not his better. A mere footnote in the histories compared to him.
"I'm special!" Baelon rose like a dragon. "You said it yourself!"
Father chuckled. "No, you can be special." He empathized that point. "But right now you're behaving a pathetic."
He flinched.
"Mediocre."
His hands curled into fists.
"Bastard."
And he saw nothing else but stars.
"I'M THE SAVIOR OF ICE AND FIRE!"
Father woke the dragon in his chest and he didn't stop until the deed was done and the thrashing of his friend stilled. His heart pounded in his chest as loud as a drum. Baelon gazed over his hands and Ghosts still body. "I'm special. I'm special." He mumbled. Father squeezed his shoulder tenderly.
Baelon looked up, numb inside. "Marvelous Baelon, simply marvelous." He praised. "Not an ounce of mediocrity. Your destiny is beyond this world."
"More than Aegon?"
"Yes." Father said, amused. "Much more."
Baelon woke with sweat on his brow. The dream put him in a sour mood for the rest of the day. A scowl formed and froze on his face due to the icy wind that chilled down to the bone. Down the stairs through the subterranean passages Baelon emerged outside Hardins Tower with the lackwit Lucerys Velaryon trailing behind him. The watchmen named it The Tower of Wildfire for the pyromancers who made it home. One of the many reforms ushered during fathers reign. A dozen of their order were awaiting his arrival in their finest fiery cloaks. "My prince." All of them groveled and bowed before him. Pyromancer Bryn held his position for the longest. A slender man with a nervous disposition, he looked close to pissing himself in his presence.
"Your savior." Baelon corrected.
The man turned red and begged his apologies. Baelon gave him his leave to rise. "Tell me ser about my command I made. It shall be ready before my departure, I trust?"
Pyromancer Bryen gulped. "It's not a straightforward proposition, my prince."
"Your magic is stronger here at the wall and the spells of your order more easily cast." Baelon said curtly. "It is stronger than anything made in Kings Landing." He had need of a more potent wildfire. The scar on his cheek where the raven dug his talons in stung. I shall burn that bastard out of his tree like a fox in its den. No one would stop him from achieving his destiny. The song of ice and fire would be sung. Though first Bloodraven would teach him to dream or he would have him whipped. I'll cut him first where he dug into my flesh. Only his intervention saved the Stark shit from dying at his hand. The humiliation of his failure still burned.
"Transporting it beyond the wall. Wildfire is a fickle thing-" He lunged and grabbed the gutless shit by the throat and slammed him against the stone wall. None of the gnats said anything as he squeezed the life out of the worm.
"You should be more concerned about my hand around your throat. It's more fickle than wildfire." Baelon smirked.
For a long moment, he let him linger in his agony before dropping him. He gasped like a fish on land. "We-"Bryen coughed. "It shall be done, my prince."
For your sake ser it better be.
The fearful gnats hovered around him, and he had to play his part. "I'll never let the excuses of the cowardly stand between me and my duty to the good people of the realm." He declared. "Remember that, sers. I pray the Seven shall guide you."
An assembly of watchmen lined up in ten lines before the main courtyard. "Attention before your prince!" Ser Arthur commanded. Men tightened. Behind him, his toadies marched behind him. Ser Gerold Dayne and Ser Edmund Moonton. The incense of the septons swirled around them as he walked between them, inspecting them. These soldiers would be the sword and shield of men fighting for the Dawn at his side and looking them over, he fought the urge to sneer. Their flawless cloaks and stern gazes did not impress him. Makeup on a pig doesn't make it a bitch to bed. Baelon mused. Symbols of the Faith of the Seven lay imprinted on boiled leather. These were Watchmen who served for seven years by writ of the High Septon and were awarded indulgences for donning the black. Pious knights and lordlings made up her ranks with great fervor. As if the Gods give a shit about gnats like them. Other lords whom sent a portion of their income and men to the Wall were awarded privileges and tax concessions. It swelled the ranks of the Nights Watch to nearly twenty-five thousand strong. All nineteen castles were manned by these men. Not since Brandon the Builder had the Nights Watch held this strength.
Uncle Viserys quivered like an old crone about the costs, but he was useless about anything important.
Officially, by word of his father, he was to lead this party of five hundred men on a ranging to smash a gathering of Wildlings. My songs begins now. Unofficially father bade him to secure a wight to bring before the Small Council. Failure was not an option. I already failed him once in the Godswood. Baelon knew that if he failed again, it wouldn't be tolerated, even though it wasn't his fault. Above them, Lord Commander Stannis Baratheon and his officers watched the proceeding from the inner bailey. The man was sour faced and constantly grinding his teeth like some stone gargoyle. Men remarked about his towering Baratheon frame, but Baelon found him unimpressive. "Our Lord Commander is a man of iron." A watchman told him. "He'll bend to no man. Not even the Gods." But he bent the knee to his father and was awarded his life, however little it was worth. Beside him, the First Ranger Renly Baratheon stood with a serious flint in his eyes, as if the muscular warrior were remarkable. I could beat you with one hand tied behind my back.
"Kneel." Baelon said. "Kneel good sers. We shall pray before the eyes of the seven." In a single flashy motion, his sword breathed from its scabbard and placed its edge on the ground.
Septon Eustace and others of the rainbow cloth led them in prayers to false gods. He bit his tongue as he played the pious prince. A sea of wrinkled and calloused hands gathered around him, touching him. A high honor for the maggots. "The Seven who are one have sent Prince Baelon the Blessed A DragonKnight of the House of Dragon to save the world of man from the agents of the Stranger!" The septons voice droned on and on. "His heart is pure and is cause righteous. Embodied with the wisdom of the Father. The strength of the Warrior. The Maidens virtue." He hardened in his breaches, thinking of Dany and her pure valyrian cunt. She would be his when he brought the Dawn. "The skill of the Smith." Baelon tuned out his prattling until he finished with his sermon about the need to obey his authority. "He is the Savior of Ice and Fire!"
"My thanks, holy father." Baelon said solemnly. "Seven blessings to all of you." He smiled. "Obey me good sers and the Seven shall show us good favor." He turned. "We shall emerge victorious and shall send our foes fleeing like the whipped dogs they are."
"The Dawn shall come!" Septon Eustace proclaimed.
"THE DAWN SHALL COME!" the men in the courtyard bellowed.
Afterwards, in the dining halls, men gathered around his greatness like moths drawn to the flame. Baelon had a tankard of ale in one hand with one foot raised on the bench. Japes flowed from his companions. Ser Justin Massey told one about a Dornish whore and a Reach lord that had the fools laughing. They must be talking about you, Rhaenys. But his mind wandered beyond talk of Dornish whores. I'm coming for you, Bloodraven. Your time is done, old man. Still, he tormented Ser Willis Whent for the amusement of his compatriots. It was a pity the Greyjoy boy didn't travel with them. He made a perfect fool. Once he even dressed him in motley and paraded him around court it had him laughing tears.
"Shit." Ser Justin said. "Isn't that the fattest fuck?"
Ser Raymond, normally silent, erupted in laughter. "I suppose they'll take anyone."
Baelon shifted his gaze lazily. It was no exaggeration. The man looked like a pig in silk. He must weight at least twenty stones. An insult to the Nights Watch and the Realm itself. The pudgy faced bastard approached them like some timid girl. Ser Edmund cut him off, grabbing him before he got another step, only releasing him when he nodded. The dogs needed some amusement. "Haven't you eaten enough?" Ser Gerold asked, stealing his roll of bread and bitting into it.
"Well, that's should help matters!" Ser Willis said, clutching his belly.
The man wilted like a fat flower.
"Are you mute aswell, Ser Pig?" Ser Justin asked.
Baelon chuckled. "Now, now sers be tame." His lips twirled up. "Tell me, friend, your name."
"Samwell Tarly."
Ser Justin snorted out his ale. Lord Tarlys son was this fat shit. The gods did have a twisted sense of humor. "Do you think you could bless me? You are the savior of ice and fire and you beat Mance Rayder." He whimpered. A blessing from him would do nothing for this useless lard of a man.
Baelon smiled. "Of course." And took Ser Raymond's full goblet of ale and poured over the fat fucks head. Sam wept, rubbing his eyes. "In the name of the Seven, I bless you to be brave in battle. To give strength to your arms and place courage in your heart." He said with false piety. "You are blessed, Sam. Weep not." Oh, you'll die the first time we face battle and no one will remember your name. Unlike himself, everyone would have heard of his name and his story.
"Thank you..My prince." Sam stammered.
"And Sam?" Baelon took the apple off his plate. "It wouldn't hurt to eat less." And took a deep bite with the juice dripping down his chin. It sent his companions into a fit of laughter.
The light of the moon filtered through into the armory. Baelon studied the quality of his castle steel. It wasn't valyrian steel, but it still cut sharp. The armorer had seen to his needs, as was their duty. My destiny begins today. I strike the first blow for the living. On the morrow, he marched Beyond the Wall with his first command with Ser Arthur under his leadership "I thought I would find you here." An irksome voice called out.
Baelon twisted his head lazily. "What do you want, Aegon?" Violet eyes studied him. His brother had the same traditional Targaryen hair coloring as his father, which was as thick and luxurious as velvet. It flowed past his shoulders and shined in the light. He looked like a true dragon. But his blood was weak like the Dornish bitch that sired him. You besmirch our bloodline.
"Her Grace wishes you to speak with our great uncle Maester Aemon." He could taste the weakness in Aegon's voice. A whipped, sniveling snake listening to the pleas of women.
"And why would I speak with an old blind man? He'll be dead soon."
Aegon sighed. "There is wisdom to be found in our elders."
The only wisdom was how useless Maester Aemon was to any of them. Once, he may have made something of himself and could have been a king. But he made himself irrelevant by rejecting the crown.
"You know." Aegon crossed his arms and leaned against the stone. "I wish you good fortune for your ranging. I pray you shall have splendid success."
Baelon scoffed and bridged the gap between them. "You would be happy if I never came back. That's what you're hoping for." He said. "Spare me this." Aegon lowered his eyes. I know you Aegon. I know what you want. You want what is mine! You'll never be the Savior! Never! "But I'm coming back. My destiny is beyond yours."
"Ah, yes, your destiny."
Baelon didn't understand what angle he was pressing. Are you making light of me?
No one makes fun of me! You'll awaken the dragon!
"We had good times once." Aegon whispered.
The fondness in his tone took him off guard and extinguished the dragons flames. Is that how you remember things? He remembered them running together in the Red Keep and feasting upon a mountain of sweets they could never finish. How many arguments they had over heroes? Too many to count. Aegon called him his future Dragonknight. Once it filled him with pride. But Aegon didn't deserve what had been gifted to him and coveted what didn't belong to him.
I should look like you and father and not some plain faced Stark!
Hatred burned in his chest until nothing remained. "I don't know why the fuck you came and I don't care." He sneered. "When I bring the Dawn, I'm taking your crown from you! You will be king of nothing!"
"Good luck with that, Baelon." Aegon said.
The subtle mockery in his voice infuriated him. "GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I SHATTER YOUR JAW!"
Aegon, the weak man he was offered a light nod of his head before making his exit. I don't need any of you. I don't need Ghost. Aegon. Rhaenys. Bran. Mother. Father. My destiny is the only thing that matters.
The Sword of the Morning
Arthur knelt before the stern gaze of the Father; the smell of incense swirled around him as his knees ached from the position. Prayers left his lips that he learned as a boy towards the Warrior. On the morrow, he was leaving with Baelon and the watchmen. Wildlings and other foul creatures would stalk them, including the cold that killed as easily as steel. Even a fallen knight needed to hold a vigil on the eve of battle. If the gods were good, many of those men would return in victory. I shall save as many as I can. He prayed Baelon might truly grow on the campaign and it would temper his impulses. Rhaegar forbade him from instructing him in anything beyond the sword. "I don't need a knight for my savior. I need a Prince who was Promised." His Grace refuse to explain any further and Arthur didn't want to know.
He spoke to Ashara and his parents and begged for their forgiveness once more. Maybe one day he would be worthy of it? His mind wandered towards Princess Elia and promises made on the deathbed. Shall I break those oaths as well? Can I sink any lower?
He feared the answer.
"You would be proud of your children, princess. Very proud." Prince Aegon would make a fine king one day, and Rhaenys looked like the spitting image of her mother save the violet eyes given by her sire. Regret flowed through his veins at the thought of Aegon and Rhaenys. Hatred still burned in their hearts towards him. Arthur couldn't blame them. He had burned the bridge when he barred them from seeing their dying mothers for her final days.A kindness Rhaegar claimed, but that was a foreign feeling for him. He was incapable of it. Rhaegar could act kind, but he didn't understand those emotions. Yet Arthur obeyed his king and kept the children out despite Queen Elias pleas howling through the door. A haunting wail that visited his dreams. "Aegon! Rhaenys! My children, please ser I wish to see my children." Despite his duty, Elia forgave him. She could always see the best in a man. A skill most lacked. She was too kind for this world.
I'll keep my oaths, princess, I swear.
"Give Ash my love." Arthur knew Princess Elia saw his sister regularly they were as close as sisters.
Dawn breathed on the stone. He held the pommel with valyrian steel gauntlets as dark as a thick plume of smoke. A gift from his grace. Arthur mused bitterly. For his greatest knight. Lord Euron had delivered the relic as per his usual award that Arthur didn't wish to think about. A gift born from blood. I never should have accepted. But he needed to wield Dawn once more. I need to be the Sword of the Morning. That means something good. The magic of Old Valyria cooled the pulsing heat emitting from Dawn. I shall never be worthy again. Yet, it felt deceptively cold in his grasp. Am I worthy once more? Have I atoned for my crimes Dawn? Hope ate away at him. Arthur slowly removed his strappings and wrapped his fingers around the hilt.
It burned straight through his flesh.
Arthur yanked his hand away and nursed over his reddened flesh. No you shall never be worthy again. A Sword of the Morning had to be brave, courageous, valiant, and a paragon of virtue. Only the highest caliber of a man could wield the blade from the stars. It suffered no other master and Arthur was no longer that.
How low have I sunk?
Behind him, the sounds of footsteps grew close. "Barristan." He declared. "I prefer to be alone a moment further. You'll simply have to endure Oswells humor on your own." Arthur chuckled. The Knight of Bats could tire everyone with his poor jokes.
"I'm no bold knight ser." The voice of Queen Lyanna said cheerfully. "Simply a queen." Arthur lifted himself up at once. "Remain as you are ser. Its unneeded. May I join you?"
Arthur nodded his consent.
Queen Lyanna was dressed in red velvets trimmed in black, her dark brown hair tied back in an intricate southern style. She had grown into a beautiful woman from the girl they kidnapped from her family. She hardly deserved what his countrymen said of her. Tis me they should curse. Lyanna is blameless to our crime that she naively names love. When she knelt beside him, she could see his gauntlet lying on the floor and, upon casting her gaze to his closed hand, she scrunched up her face in a mask of cold fury. "How foolish Arthur!" She snarled. "Show me your hand." Her Grace commanded.
"It's not bad," Arthur protested.
"Show me your hand."
Arthur complied as she gazed over it and sighed. "You need to wear those gauntlets, Arthur. I've told you this. They work."
"Another time, perhaps. I'm hard of hearing."
If looks could hurt, then he would have been skewered. "Yes, you've clearly been struck too many times in the head." Lyanna crossed her arms, annoyed. "I spent many long hours coming up with this solution since you have refused Lady Maloras offer to strip Dawn of her magic."
Arthur offered a small smile. "A kind gesture, but Dawn shall remain as is."
"It's not working properly." Lyanna said. "The magic has failed and needs to be redone." No, it works perfectly, your grace. Dawn understood what men didn't see.
"I must steel myself against your winter storm, for I cannot yield."
Her icy fury spluttered out after a few mumbled curses as she knelt at his side. Her hands fluttered as a heavy, uncomfortable silence settled between them. During feasts and Small Council meetings, they fidgeted and shifted, struggling to remain still despite Rhaegars gentle reprimand. Lyanna was not one for silence and chatted with him about enjoying the quiet away from her fussy girls. The irony was lost on her. Arthur listened dutifully as she told of her desire to visit Mole Town to see the smallfolk and hear their woes. Queen Lyanna held a valiant heart of a knight. Her voice turned small and uncertain as she spoke of Rhaegars plan he revealed to her. Why did you tell her? You never tell her anything of importance save stories of honey and silk. "We aren't saving the Wildlings. It feels wrong, but Rhaegar knows best, does he not? He always does the right thing. Tell me I'm being silly. Tell me ser that we must abandon them to the cold." Arthur didn't wish to think about the monstrous crime his king commits. I can't condone, nor condemn.
"I think mayhaps we should go for a ride? You are clearly overburdened." Arthur smiled kindly. "Feel air kissing our skin? We might be able to ride far enough from screaming babes and forget troublesome doubts of destiny. I'd race you Stark and win." He grinned.
"Rhaegar would not approve of that ser," Lyanna said sternly before grinning. "Besides, it wouldn't work. They have powerful lungs." She giggled. "And you wouldn't win ser."
"They are loud children." Arthur agreed. "But sweet aswell." Baelon was a sweet child once, too.
Lyanna nodded. "I love them with all my heart ser until my chest hurts."
Of that, Arthur knew for certain. "Did you come to pray for Prince Baelon? I swear I shall protect him with my life." Arthur vowed. No Wildling axe would touch him.
Lyanna laughed. "Why would I pray for him? His destiny is set in stone." Why did you come then? Arthur wondered.
Her hand touched his arm. "I pray for you Ser Arthur." He twisted to face her. Her grey Stark eyes lingered on him for a long moment. The ability to speak was stripped from him as if he had swallowed some frog. "Rhaegar needs you. He needs us both. His Queen and Knight." She chimed with conviction that he lacked. He nodded dutifully. Lyanna grabbed the gauntlet and placed it over his hand and strapped it in place. She knew what she was doing. "A whole knight. The Sword of the Morning."
"His Grace has other knights."
"None like you Arthur. You are his greatest friend. Just like I'm his Queen of love and beauty." He doesn't love you Lyanna. He's incapable of it. "We must help him ser with his destiny."
"Your too good for him, Lyanna." He mumbled foolishly.
Lyannas eyed him, horrified. "No, I'm unworthy of him! But you are chivalrous for saying so." And he didn't have the courage to refute her. Instead he only smiled and offered to escort her back to her quarters.
Authors note: Alright, that was a fun chapter. Next up we shall go on a grand expedition Beyond the Wall led by the Savior of Ice and Fire with the competence of an Imperial officer in the Galactic Empire.(And not the Thrawn kind) After that we'll go toward KL and see what Rhaenys and Dany are up too with Jon C. As always I enjoy reading and responding to the comments.
VisualBlitz: Yeah, you could proably call Rhaegar that. Him and Cersei would have been a great match.