"I will take Lyanna Stark as my bride."

The sun had run its course, its final rays of lights sending the waters of the lake glittering red. It was peaceful. Arthur Dayne could've spent away his life like this, with Dawn on his lap, watching the sun set slowly like a shy maiden.

It was Rhaegar who spoke, his voice clear and commanding. It carried a sense of conviction, and Arthur knew it was something the Prince had spent a lot of thought on.

Nobody spoke. Thoughts came out unbidden to Arthur, but he suppressed them deep within. His hands moved methodically, moving the oiled cloth over Dawn, sheening its edges. Up and down, up and down, up and down. He took a certain comfort in the monotony of the action.

Oswell cleared his throat. "And I'd like to take Arthur as my wife. But Dawn has beaten me to it, and so I must wallow the rest of my life with a broken heart and an empty hand." He clearly thought it was all a jape.

Arthur knew better. He had carried his own suspicions, but a part of him had wilfully ignored them. Surely not. Surely Rhaegar had more wisdom, surely he knew better than to do it?

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

"I do not jape, Ser Oswell. I intend it. I must marry her." Rhaegar spoke again, his voice all the more clearer.

Whent's face fell open a bit, almost as if he was unsure if the prince was still jesting or if he truly was serious. The rumbling voice of the Lord Commander powered behind him. "A great folly, my Prince," spoke Ser Gerold Hightower, "and a dishonourable act. You are wedded, and Lady Lyanna is betrothed to your own cousin."

The Prince's gaze was unyielding as ever. "I know. But understand this ser, I must have her."

"What for, Prince Rhaegar?" Oswell spoke up, his voice slightly more serious. "Surely you do not think Lord Robert will allow you to waltz away with his betrothed? Especially after you crowned her at Harrenhal."

"I care not for what Lord Robert thinks."

Arthur wanted to speak out again. The words came to his mind, yet he forced them down. He brought his eyes down to the sword at his lap, shining and glowing, the pride of House Dayne. It was oiled well enough, there was no need for more. Yet his hands went up and down, in a steady motion, rubbing the cloth over the blade.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

"Forgive me for this my Prince, but this is not just a matter of your thoughts." Hightower spoke articulately, and it was clear to Arthur that the man was trying to frame his next words very carefully. "The Stormlands will take great offense, as will Lord Stark himself. To take one's daughter from him without his own permission a barbarous act, and the North will certainly see it that way."

Oswell nodded. "Aye, Lord Robert is a man who makes friends just as quickly as enemies. He will not let a slight like that go unanswered." He hesitated for a moment. "Mayhaps... its even possible he takes up arms."

Gerold Hightower's face darkened. "Aye, Ser Oswell speaks true. Especially with the lords againts King Aerys as it is. They will not distinguish between you or your sire, my Prince." Even secluded, the man still cast a wary look at their surroundings.

The four of them; Prince Rhaegar, Arthur, Oswell and the Lord Commander had ridden forward at the Prince's behest, ahead of the entourage. The King and his carriage were yet to catch up with them, and isolated as they were, there was no better time to discuss without any birds snooping in for a juicy earful.

Arthur was staring down at his lap, focused intently on oiling Dawn. Even then, he felt Rhaegar's gaze on him, almost as if pinning him down with its intensity. He slowly tilted his head upwards, looking right into his closest friend's eyes. Arthur thought himself to be the one who knew Rhaegar best. Yet even now, even if it was his life at stake, he wouldn't have been able to tell what was going on behind those indigo eyes.

"And you, Arthur?" Rhaegar's voice was jarringly sharp. "What have you to say about this?"

Even staring into his Prince's eyes, Arthur's hands didn't stop their movement. It felt comforting, to caress Dawn. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down. He held Rhaegar's gaze for a long time, composing the mesh of words in his mind into something orderly.

"Do you love her?"

The question stunned his prince into silence. Whatever it had been, he hadn't been expecting that. Rhaegar staggered back a bit, his face nonplussed.

Silence reigned amidst the four of them. When Rhaegar spoke again, his voice was even, betraying not even an inch of the surprise he'd shown previously. "Leave us."

The Lord Commander and Oswell complied immediately, moving off to rejoin with the King's Caravan. Arthur returned to polishing Dawn. He didn't trust himself to remain looking at Rhaegar for long; not when he didn't have his answer.

He heard his friend shuffle around, and then Rhaegar sat down beside Arthur. For a moment, it almost felt as if the two of them were simply basking in the glow of the setting sun; Arthur polishing his beloved Dawn, Rhaegar composing some melody inspired by the scenery.

But it was an illusion, and the shattering of an illusion was far more painful than any sword could ever hope to be.

"I do not." Rhaegar's voice was soft. "I do not love her, Arthur."

Then why? Why must you do it? Arthur wanted to scream at him, yet he already knew the reason why.

"The prophecy commands it." Rhaegar continued. "The song of ice and fire. Ice and fire, Arthur. My blood will provide the fire, and Lady Lyanna will be the ice. Our child will be the saviour, the promised one. He shall be the one to bring salvation unto all of us."

And you would stake the realm and the life of thousands on a prophecy? Again, Arthur could have asked it but he already knew the answer. Yes, Rhaegar would stake it all on the whims of a prophecy. He already was doing it.

His friend hesitatingly clutched his shoulder. "Speak to me, Arthur. Speak as a Kingsguard, or as my closest friend, I care not. Just talk to me."

Arthur breathed quietly. "Do you recall when you sent me to Oldtown, to scourge through the maester's library in search of your prophecy?"

Rhaegar tilted his head. "I remember quite well."

"I met Lord Hightower's eldest daughter in my endeavours there. The Mad Maid, all would call her, yet to me she had a charm and mystery of her own. An enigma, if you will."

A small smile graced the Prince's lips. "She must have really impressed you if you speak of her so."

Arthur turned to watch the lake. The sun had set by now, and the straying rays of light were slowly dimming. "Indeed. When I spoke of the prophecy to her, she told me something I feel you should know."

The light seemed to bounce off Rhaegar's eyes. "Pray tell, what is it?"

"To pursue a prophecy is a task akin to evading death; it is pointless, for both are inevitable, no matter what one does."

The lake in front of them was no longer glittering from the sun's rays. Dawn emitted a shine from Arthur's lap, and he could see a cricket moving through the grass beside him.

It was only after quite a few moments that Rhaegar spoke. "So it is your belief I am forcing the isssue?"

He closed his eyes. "I do not know."

"But I do." Rhaegar said softly. "I know this is the right move, the one that will deliver the Prince Who Was Promised to us. Our very own Visenya."

Arthur remained silent for a long time. When he spoke, he found there was an edge to his voice that he himself hadn't been aware of. "Long years ago, you made a promise to me, Rhaegar. That you would be a better man than Aerys. That I would never have to follow your orders and then question my worthiness as a knight."

The prince's gaze narrowed. "Do you feel I have broken that vow?"

"Is stealing a girl whom you do not love for a prophecy enough to suffice for that?"

"A prophecy that will grant us our salvation."

Arthur lowered his gaze. He took a deep breath, and felt his resolve crumbling. He could trust his friend. After all, Rhaegar had never let him down before. Why would it be any different?

And just for that moment, Arthur felt trapped in a cage. What choice did he have? To turn to Aerys, the very monster that nearly made him forget his knightly vows? No, Rhaegar was his only salvation. He was Arthur's only answer to the hell he had to endure every day in King's Landing. All his hopes were on Rhaegar.

"So be it." Arthur let the words slip from his mouth slowly. "I will follow you, as I have done since forever."

The smile that broke into Rhaegar's face was almost worth the trouble. "I knew I'd make you see. I could never do this without you at my side, Arthur."

Yet long hours later, when they'd returned to the King's entourage and Arthur resumed his guard outside the king's caravan, the memory of Rhaegar's smile gave him no comfort.

And so, he caressed Dawn, moving his fingertips up and down the blade, the sharp edge providing a comfortable weight to his fingers.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

"I want to go home, ser."

Lyanna Stark's voice was broken, so utterly devoid of life that it made the Dornish desert seem lively in comparison. Arthur clenched his teeth, to suppress both the anger and the surge of despair welling within him.

He searched for words, and ultimately found nothing and so he chose to stick to his silence, like the coward he was. The gods gave him enough courage to meet Lyanna's eyes though, and the judgement he saw there was ten times worse than anything he had ever endured.

The silence stretched on, and it was Lyanna again who broke it. "When I was with my family, I wished for nothing more than to be free. To grow some wings, fly away and never return." Her voice cracked. "But now, what wouldn't I give to have Father and Brandon back with me again."

Arthur bowed his head. "It was horrible, the way they died. I regret not being there." To anyone else, that might have sounded hollow, but he meant those words and Lyanna knew it.

She laughed bitterly. "Yet you still serve the very king who killed them. In the name of honour."

Something, probably bile, rose in Arthur's throat. "You do not understand, my Lady, I have no- "

Lyanna Stark sat forth, her eyes a blazing fury. "I do not understand? Do not tell me you have no choice, Ser Arthur. I know more than any other person. Everyone has a choice, no matter what else they may think." She gestured around herself. "This hell I've carved for myself is born out of mine own choice, just as yours is borne out of your choice."

Arthur did not speak. His hand found Dawn, the blade giving him the only ounce of familiarity he could find. His hand moved along the edge, welcoming the sharp blade. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Her voice softened, to a certain extent. "I like you the most, Ser Arthur. Amidst us all here, you are the only one who sees this farce for what it is. So why don't you act?"

I cannot. I cannot, because I have no courage. Despite her words, Lyanna Stark did not understand. All those years with Aerys, listening to the screams of the burning, watching Queen Rhaella depart the royal chambers with tears in her eyes as a new bruise formed, it had numbed him. Ser Barristan shielded himself with his dedication to duty, and every single Kingsguard did the same. Arthur did not. Amidst that hell, he'd seen his shining ray of light in Rhaegar, the sweet Prince of Dragonstone.

How could he betray his prince? Rhaegar may be chasing the prince who was promised, to deliver salvation to the world, but for Arthur Rhaegar was his salvation, the one who would absolve Arthur of all the sins he'd overlooked.

The boy who had burned for stealing an apple? Arthur had done nothing to stop it, but Rhaegar would become the king, and he'd make it all right. Then Arthur could say, it had been worth it. It had to be. It had to be, otherwise his entire life was a lie.

The door to the room swung open, and in walked Ser Gerold. "The Prince departs now. He would see you, Ser Arthur." The man bowed to Lyanna. "Princess."

She didn't acknowledge Ser Gerold. Instead, as Arthur left, her eyes bore holes into his back, and Arthur had to choke in an apology. What would he apologise for either way? Forgive me for being a coward?

The Tower of Joy stood alone amidst the bleak Dornish mountains, and as he emerged from its gates he swore there was naught in the world he hated more than the tower's name. It served only as a stark reminder of just how wrong things had gone.

Outside, Rhaegar's destrier had been prepared and the prince himself stood at his mount's side, stroking its mane. Arthur silently approached him, and the prince lifted his head as he neared.

"Arthur. How fares Lyanna?"

His voice was clipped. "You would know if you talked to her."

Rhaegar sighed in frustration. "She will not speak with me, you know it as much as I."

A fiery little thing, she had been. When he and Rhaegar had come to take her, Lyanna had come readily. Those first few days, it was clear as day to Arthur that the girl thought it all to be something straight out of a song. Rhaegar, for his part, played the charming lovestruck prince to perfection. If Arthur hadn't had years of experience reading his friend, he would truly have believed that Rhaegar loved Lyanna from the bottommost wells of his heart.

But he didn't. Arthur did not know when things began to change. Mayhaps it was when Ser Gerold came with the news of Brandon Stark's arrest and Lord Rickard's summoning. Or maybe it was when the news arrived of their deaths. Or maybe it was when they came to know Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon had taken up arms against the crown.

Or maybe it was when Rhaegar gave up all pretense of love and told Lyanna the real reason for their union.

The girl had cried then, and it was the first time Arthur had seen her shed tears. The irony of it all didn't escape him. She thought she was escaping the life of a broodmare, only to realise she meant nothing more than that to Rhaegar.

It had all gone to hell. There would be war, there would be lives lost, and Arthur had the feeling he had never before thought to experience : regret. The regret made him angry. What sort of friend was he, to regret helping his prince out? But what sort of knight are you, a voice seemed to whisper back, to ruin yet another life in the name of Rhaegar?

But it would all be alright. Rhaegar would win, and he would put all wrongs to right. Arthur just had to persevere and see.

A hand on his shoulder brought him back to the mortal world. A small smirk rested on Rhaegar's lips, and Arthur was struck from how long it had been since he'd seen Rhaegar truly smile. "You are getting lost in your thoughts a lot these days, my friend. I would think some maiden has stolen your heart from me."

Arthur allowed himself a begrudging smile. "It is Oswell who holds my heart, not you."

"When I return, I shall cross blades with him. None can lay claim to your heart but me."

Arthur's face returned to its stoical demeanour. "Where do you think to face the Usurper?"

Rhaegar's eyes hardened. "Jon is away at Stoney Sept trying to root out Lord Robert, I've been told. Eddard Stark and Hoster Tully march on them with their armies, so it is all a race to find my cousin first. If I reach King's Landing quick enough, I shall march on Stoney Sept."

"And if you do not?"

"Then I do not know." Rhaegar closed his eyes. "Mayhaps the rebels will retreat to the riverlands to consolidate their claim. Or they might press on to King's Landing, in which case I shall take them at Duskendale."

The prince's face became solemn, and suddenly Arthur felt as if he did not know the man in front of him. Reaching out, Rhaegar grabbed Arthur's shoulder and squeezed. "No matter what, Lyanna must be protected. Do you understand? The child of the prophecy grows within her, and he must be protected. I am leaving you and the others here for a reason, Arthur."

Arthur nodded. His nod was enough for Rhaegar, and the prince swung his legs around and mounted his destrier. His friend looked down on him, and Arthur couldn't help but feel as if there was some invisible barrier between them. "This is farewell, then."

The words came unbidden to Arthur's mind. Some part of him, the part that had seen and heard all of King's Landing tried to shut them down, yet he spoke. "You told Lady Lyanna your true purpose only after you learnt she was with child."

Rhaegar gave him a long look. "Indeed."

"She has not let you bed her since." Rhaegar's eyes narrowed at that, but Arthur continued. "But what if she refused earlier, before you knew she was with child?"

Try as he might, Arthur could not keep the small bit of emotion from seeping into his voice. "Would you have taken her against her will?"

There was a long silence. A breeze came and went, and Arthur held his friend's gaze eye to eye. Rhaegar sighed with a finality. "Why must you always ask these?"

"I would not be your friend if I didn't."

Rhaegar's gaze assumed a faraway look. "Do you really want the answer?"

"If our friendship over the years has meant anything to you, you shall answer truly."

Rhaegar dropped his eyes from his, yet Arthur heard no shame in his voice when he spoke. "Yes, I would have."

Hours later, the cold night breeze gave Arthur a chill, deep within his armour. His only comfort was Dawn, and its comforting sharpness in his hands. His fingers traced the edges slowly, methodically, lifelessly.

Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Rhaegar was dead. Aerys was dead. Killed by Jaime Lannister.

Elia Martell, frail and weak, yet so absurdly strong-willed and determined. Prince Aegon, who would giggled at Ser Jaime's golden sword. Princess Rhaenys, who would tail Arthur for stories of his fight against the Kingswood Brotherhood. They were gone. All gone, never to return.

Arthur had heard Ser Gerold swear for the first time ever when the news reached them. He cursed Tywin Lannister, cursed Ser Jaime, cursed Rhaegar for leaving them there, and cursed the gods for their fate. Oswell had taken the news with silence, which was concerning enough as it was. None of them had told Lady Lyanna just yet. She was nearing her labour, and she spent most of her days sleeping.

Arthur himself had felt burning hatred for Jaime Lannister when he had heard of the news. How could a man be so dishonourable? Jaime Lannister is no man, a voice whispered inside of him, he is but a boy. A boy YOU knighted. A boy left alone with Aerys.

But even then, Arthur had reasoned, that boy had let the prince and princess be murdered. He had broken the most sacred of all vows, and killed the king himself. Clearly, he had been acting for the interests of House Lannister. Lord Tywin had in all probability sent his son some message detailing his orders.

But then he closed his eyes, and recalled Jaime's earnest face as he gazed up to him. He recalled the boy's face when he knighted him. Gods above, why had I done that? Jaime was just a boy, a boy with no clue as to the world around him. And then he recalled the same boy's face when Aerys sent him back to King's Landing.

Did Jaime snap? Gods only knew what we had to endure under Aerys, how must it have been for him then?

Arthur did not know. He wanted to hate Jaime, he wanted to hate someone, yet he did not know. He was tired. Tired of not knowing, tired of his duty, tired of his desires, tired of all of it.

He just wanted to rest.

No.

He wanted to die.

His life was a lie. Rhaegar had failed. He had died on the banks of the Trident, his red rubies bleeding as his life blood mixed with riverwater. There would be no salvation. All those years spent overlooking Aerys' madness, all those lives Arthur had ruined in the name of Rhaegar, they were all for nothing.

A man cannot live without purpose. For Arthur, his entire purpose had been righting all wrongs with Rhaegar. And he had failed. Rhaegar had failed. The prophecy had failed.

And Arthur was so damned tired of prophecies. Rhaegar's child was yet to be born, but he would be the Prince Who Was Promised. And Arthur could not give a damned shit about that. All he knew was that there was yet another life to be destroyed by the prophecy.

Yet another Targaryen who would grow up believing himself to be the saviour. Yet another promised saviour upon whom Arthur would have to place his hopes on. He could not. Not anymore. Not any longer.

Eddard Stark had left King's Landing in search of his sister, they had been told. Sooner or later, he would find them. Arthur did not know what Ser Gerold planned to do with the child. But he would come along, regardless of his skepticism. Because Arthur was a coward. In the end, all he had was his vows as Kingsguard. He had no honour. He had no wisdom. He just had his vows.

Prophecies had destroyed King Aegon V. It had destroyed Rhaegar. Or maybe they destroyed themselves. One need not be Aerys to be insane. Arthur had his suspicions now, Rhaegar really had been obsessed with the prophecy. In the end, he had become a monster. Far different from his sire, but a monster nonetheless.

And that child inside Lyanna could become the same.

Hours later, Arthur picked up a quill and wrote a letter. A few hours after that, their messenger came with a warning. Eddard Stark and six northmen were near, and they were coming.

Arthur folded the letter beside the sleeping Lady Lyanna. And then he went outside, joining his two brothers in their vigil. No words were needed. He sat himself on a rock, and waited for his death or victory.

No matter how meaningless his life had been, Arthur would not run. He had sworn a vow. That was all he had.

He caressed Dawn, and for once, he found no comfort. Yet his hand made the journey across the blade, utterly methodical and calculated. Up and down. Up and down. Up and down.

Lord Stark,

If this letter finds you, that must mean my brothers and I have been slain. I hope you do us the courtesy of a proper burial.

You will find Lady Lyanna with the true King of the Seven Kingdoms. Rhaegar did not take your sister out of love or lust, but to fulfil a prophecy. It does not concern us anymore; what matters is that the child in front of you is the 'salvation' that prophecy has promised.

Heed my warning, Lord Stark : prophecies, promised salvations - these are naught but soft and empty lies men need to find purpose in their lives. It destroyed Prince Rhaegar. It destroyed Aerys, to a certain extent. It destroyed Aegon before him. You can play Kingmaker if you so wish, but I would have you raise the child as a nobody. This world does not need salvation, nor does it need a promised saviour.

If we had survived, we would have crowned the child. I swore a vow, and those vows would have demanded it of me. But you have sworn no vows, my lord. Perhaps you believe in prophecies, perhaps you do not. I would remind you that all the destruction wrought upon us was due to a prophecy. But then again, this is merely my rambling. I believe I have gone insane, my lord. I know not what my vows mean, nor the consequences of my actions, yet I must cling to them. The world is cruel.

If you have the honour, deliver Dawn to Starfall and tell my sister about my fate. You know her well, afterall.

Yours,

Ser Arthur Dayne