ARTHUR DAYNE
Day 10, 10th Moon, 275 AC
Heart pounding within a thriving citrus grove beside the Torentine River, Arthur took slow breaths as he knelt beside an unconscious man. Then, he bound the dirty hands tight with rope, tugging sharply. After a deep breath, his heart slowed from the skirmish. Around him, blood pooled from two armed but motionless men. When given the option to surrender, they'd laughed and drawn swords. Their fatal mistake. Arthur scowled. Two escaped true justice with quick deaths.
The worst man motionless and captured, Arthur pressed his calloused fingers against their wrist. A steady pulse, as was the man's breathing. This brute would live to pay for his crime. Lord Alijah Dayne of Starfall would decide his fate.
Sheathing his steel sword, Arthur left the tied and unconscious man on the ground and approached a shaken woman sitting against the trunk of an old tree, surrounded by fallen ripe blood oranges. A mixed tinge of orange and raspberry hovered in the air; however, a metallic scent grew dominant and pungent. Drying blood.
Three against one was demanding. Three against one while protecting an assaulted woman was even more so. Admittedly, he'd knocked one man unconscious at the first opportunity. Arthur took a slow breath to settle his pounding heart and knelt before the innocent woman in shock and a tattered dress. Ashara's soft words might provide her with comfort.
Several blood oranges surrounded her. He'd been lucky. Had Arthur stepped on one and fallen, his lifeblood would be staining the dirt and not that of two other men.
He gently offered a hand and helped her to stand while Arthur remained on one knee. She needed no men looming over her right now. Especially not now.
But she didn't speak. Instead, just distantly stared at a fruit in her hand. Eventually, the silence turned awkward, and Arthur cleared his throat. "What's your name, my lady? I pray I wasn't too late," he asked, despite her attention on the fruit. Arthur took no offence. No doubt, she sought to distract herself from what had and nearly happened.
When she met his eyes, the lady gave a slight head shake. "Estelle. My-my name's Estelle. I'm ju- just a villager. A smallfolk." Her body trembled where she stood, and Arthur whistled to summon his sand steed. The sooner they left this place, the better for Estelle. Her eyes were on him, but he remained on his knee. Height creates intimidation.
"Call me 'Arthur', Estelle," he said, smiling. Formality wasn't ideal. "You're quite shaken. Do you want to come to Starfall so the maester can treat you? Or speak with my sister privately? You're welcome to use my horse."
Estelle bit her lip and looked past his shoulder. "Thank you, Ser. But…what about…about him?"
There was only one other living man here. "He shall walk. As will I, Estelle. You won't be touched by him again. I promise you that," he said, getting to his feet but backing away until he was beside the saddle. "Do you want help mounting?"
She gave a weak smile and approached. "Aye," Estelle said.
When he held her waist, she flinched, and he let go. "Sorry. Would you prefer mounting alone?"
"It's too high for me," she admitted. "I'll need help, Ser. I'll try again."
This time he was slow to put his hands on her waist and paused. She nodded, and Arthur lifted her onto the saddle sideways. "This is a regular saddle, but sideways or astride, my lady?"
She dropped her chin and looked at her lap. "Sideways, please," Estelle murmured with her eyes on the blood orange in her hand. Considering the situation he'd found her in, he couldn't blame the choice. Her face was pale, with mussed hair and shallow breathing.
"Estelle? Do you know how to ride?" A slight head shake was the answer. Arthur sighed, but not everyone could afford a horse. "That's no problem; I'll lead the way while my horse will follow. Could you hold the reins loose?" he asked. "Can you do that?"
The village woman swallowed, and her breath quickened. "What if I fall off?"
Over his shoulder, he searched for movement within the grove, but the third man was still unconscious. "Hold the mane and relax in the saddle, Estelle. He's gentle with my sister; you won't fall off," he assured, and she passed the fruit to him, which he put in the saddlebag. Estelle moved her hands towards the mane.
Taking a breath, she gripped the white mane as though for dear life. Given the matter, he'd done the best he could. Lingering was pointless, and Estelle no doubt wanted to leave. With long strides, Arthur hauled the man up and pushed him towards Starfall; hands were bound behind the culprit's back and forearms within Arthur's grip.
Arthur led by a distance and listened to the slow beats of his following horse. The young woman spoke no word from the saddle.
It was silent walking, but the monster stiffened when they broke through the treeline, and Starfall pierced the river mouth. "Yer a fuckin coward, Dayne. Kill me like the rest and be done with it," said the man.
I won't rise to any insult you throw at me.
"What? Afraid of spilling more blood?"
He could, but slaying an unarmed man was dishonourable, no matter how vile. It was his duty to bring him to Starfall.
Arthur glanced at Estelle, whose eyes were fearful, her hands in her lap. This man had been the one Arthur pulled off her when she was pinned down. It was a recipe for distress if she remained here with them. "Estelle, do you trust me?" He got a frightened nod. "Sit astride and hold tight until you reach Starfall. I'll see you there. I promise."
The scum snorted. "So much for protector. I didn't get her, but someone else will," he mocked, which elected a whimper from the woman.
Arthur knocked the bound man onto the ground and rushed to his horse's flank, spanking it into motion. "Hold on!" he called. Starfall was a straight shot from here. His white sand steed trotted ahead while she gripped its mane. Grunts of frustration came from the ground, and Arthur stalked over. Then, intent on justice being served, he brought the criminal upright and resumed the forced walk.
"What, Dayne? Did I hit a nerve?" the scum taunted, head turned to look over his shoulder at Arthur.
"Your blood is not mine to spill. My brother will decide your fate," he said candidly.
The monster scoffed a laugh. "You decided the fate of the others. Why am I any different?"
This was a frequent question from caught criminals within Dayne lands, but he answered all the same. "There's a difference between murder and combat. I disarmed and knocked you out. The others chose to cross swords."
"Hah, craven's excuse."
Behind the criminal's back, Arthur rolled his eyes and said nothing. This man was trying to rile Arthur into action for a quick death. Typical rapists were castrated or sent to the Wall.
Neither fate was appealing; lose his cock in a passionate kingdom, or freeze in celibacy at the Wall. In other kingdoms, scum would favour castration. However, Dorne's people would be a visual torment for the rest of this man's life. Arthur held no sympathy for him, though.
"No words? I'm right, aren't I?"
He ignored the further jabs. It was pointless to react, and the sun's direct heat rose as the day progressed. Arthur had left Starfall at dawn with the intent of a quick ride, thus lacking fabric over his armour to counter the sun. The Red Mountains were a cooler area of Dorne, but the relentless sun was the same.
Near Starfall was a bridge to the island where the castle stood proud. At the nearest end stood three guards who took the man. Dorne's sun was hot and harsh; hence the guards' unprotected presence was for the criminal. Giving them a word of thanks once they had him in custody, Arthur ventured ahead and loosened his leathers. The breeze cooled his skin, and he released a sigh.
Awaiting him at the gatehouse was his one brother, Alijah. Nine-and-ten, eyes purple, and dark hair hinted with silver. His lord brother fell into step until they were in the Entrance Hall, where Arthur sat and removed his light armour.
Alijah joined him on the bench. "Maester Eon and Ashara are with the woman now. Are you injured, Arthur?"
Arthur met Alijah's eyes and shook his head. "I'm well, but how's Estelle?"
Alijah presented a blood orange to him, and Arthur raised an eyebrow. His brother pushed it into his hand. "Something to break your fast with," he said. "Estelle's in shock and grief, but bruises are the worst physically, I've been told. Ashara's comforting her in the maester's chamber."
Tension seeped from Arthur's shoulders. "Good. I'm glad I wasn't too late. What of the culprit?" he asked, biting into the fruit. Blood-red juice dripped onto the chest of his soiled tunic.
Although Alijah, Lord of Starfall, was nine-and-ten, he never acted superior or pulled rank with his brother of seven-and-ten; they were a team.
The lord released a sigh and turned to him. "King's Landing dungeons to await a black brother of the Night's Watch. Estelle's account was quite vivid," Alijah said and gave Arthur a grim look. "They killed her brother as well, Arthur. I'm not letting that man roam my lands again."
Eyes on the fruit, Arthur shook his head and faced Alijah again. "There were two others, but it was them or me. I had no choice. If they have friends, we'll never know. The one we have isn't likely to talk."
His brother's hand rested on his shoulder. "Don't defend your actions. You have…prowess with a sword. What you needed to survive today."
"That's no excuse, Alijah. I should have caught them." His ancestors who'd lived as a 'Sword of the Morning' would have done better.
Alijah squeezed his shoulder. "That's horseshit, and you know it, Arthur. Three against one. Of course, your instincts kicked in," Alijah countered. "You're not a Sword of the Morning yet, but those in the past would've done the same. You will become worthy of Dawn, Brother. You're closer than you think."
Arthur snapped his head to Alijah, whose eyes held conviction. Soft steps neared them, and he turned towards the source. It was Ashara with a sad expression marring her effortless features. Dark tresses, haunting purple eyes and six-and-ten with a figure Westeros' women envied. Arthur got to his feet and approached. "Ashara, how's Estelle?"
Ashara glanced at both of them. "Resting and freshly dressed. Estelle wanted to be alone but was on the verge of crying. She insisted on solitude, though," she said quietly and sat beside Alijah. Arthur sat on her other side. "She's so pained, and I want to help."
Arthur leaned forward and gave her hand a squeeze. "I have faith you did all possible, Ashara," he said, and she nodded. "She wanted privacy, and you gave it. Sometimes granting their wish is all we can do." Again, Ashara nodded with an emerging small smile.
His sister gave a meaningful look. "You give sound advice, but you should listen to your words and Alijah too," she said. "Estelle spoke with me, and the odds were stacked against you. You did everything you could." She tilted her head at the end.
He raised an eyebrow. "Am I that predictable?"
A fond look came his way. "I guessed you would grumble to Alijah about not catching them all." She squeezed his hand. "Determination to be a noble man, a noble knight, has always been written on your forehead. Always."
"I better start growing a fringe," he said dryly. Ashara's lips quirked.
A rustle beside Ashara drew his eyes to Alijah. Their brother produced sealed letters from his light robe and passed them to her. "While you were at Estelle's side, the maester gave me these," their older brother said apologetically. That alone gave away what they were.
Dread filled Ashara's face, and she opened all but one, their sigils visible to Arthur, although upside down. They were from houses of the Reach, the Stormlands, and the Riverlands. Ashara hated these letters. He glanced at Alijah, whose expression reflected his sympathy. Then, both lifting a hand, the brothers rested them on Ashara's shoulders. Her attention went to them.
"It's tiresome, that's all." She passed the open letters to Arthur, who rested them beside his thigh. "Every lady weds into another house. I acknowledge that, but houses outside of Dorne frown upon our culture," she said and leaned back. "So why bother sending betrothals for me? They want a pretty face with fair skin, but not who I am."
Arthur turned and moved his hand to grasp hers. "Ashara, there are times you smile, and the letter's not a Dornish house." He was a year older, but she was his little sister.
"That's true," she said slowly. "But what am I to make of someone who writes as a friend? Everyone wants something, but what does he want? We've never met, and I don't know. Would Mother and Father refuse if he was decent? He's not an heir but a second son." Arthur suppressed a flinch and hoped he wouldn't encounter a similar problem.
There was a shift on the other side of Ashara, and Alijah leaned closer. "Father abdicated Lord of Starfall to me, Ashara. Whoever you choose to marry can reside in Starfall if needs be. Second, third, or fourth son. I want you to be happy; we both do. Starfall is a castle."
Alijah locked eyes with Arthur, and he nodded. You're the lord; I'm the sword. "Alijah and I won't stand in the way of your happiness, Sister. The only men I'll oppose are brutes. Say the word, and he'll have to defeat me first."
That produced a smile from their sister, who hugged them both. "Thank you, both of you. I'm grateful," she said and opened the letter still in her lap; House Martell.
Princess Elia Martell and Ashara frequently wrote, so it was none of Arthur's business to see its content. He rose from the bench and took his boiled leather armour to his bedchamber for later tending. One of the servants, Symon was in the halls lingering near his door.
"Ser Arthur, do you want a bath drawn?" the attentive boy asked. "I'll clean your armour while the water heats."
His servant took pride in a good job but was eager to please. Discouraging it, though, would offend the boy. It was typical of houses to have little regard for servants, but House Dayne was not one of them. "Thank you, Symon, but do the armour if there's time. You do have your regular duties," he said with a gentle reminder. Symon nodded and took off. Arthur shook his head at Symon's haste.
Inside, he retrieved a cloth and wiped his sword clean of the part-dry blood. With careful hands, he hung his sword on the wall to dry it and took off his swordbelt. Using water from the handbasin, he wiped and rinsed out the sheath, removing any blood. He stood that upside down against the unlit hearth.
The reflection coming from the sword had a contorted streak of red. Cuts are easily forgotten during a fight. A glance into the looking glass proved any concern unnecessary. The colour was blood orange juice, a dried line that started at his heart.
Although the bath wouldn't be drawn for a while, he removed his tunic and turned to the basin. Beside it was a pile of linens. Taking one, he dipped it into the water and ran it over his upper half until he didn't reek and threw on a fresh tunic. The rest would have to wait.
He climbed the stairs to the maester's chamber but encountered Maester Eon outside. In the man's hand was a letter with the House Dayne of High Hermitage seal. "Arthur, I missed this one earlier. It's for Alijah. Would you know where he is?"
"The Entrance Hall, I'd wager," he said. "But how's Estelle?"
Maester Eon shook his head. "She wants peace to mourn, Arthur, but I'll mention you came by. The continued concern will be appreciated, I'm sure."
Arthur gave a slight nod and held out a hand. "I'll deliver the letter if you wish?" he said, and it was passed to him. Following his own words to Ashara, Arthur left Estelle in peace as she'd wanted.
On his way down, Arthur detoured and visited the chamber with portraits of the former Swords of the Morning. Surrounded by numerous hung paintings, Dawn rested across its mantle. A superior sword made from the heart of a fallen star.
The white blade rested dormant until the next Dayne true knight was deemed worthy to wield it. He'd never touched it, but Father said it was as sharp and light as Valyrian steel. Inside a display case was the first Sword of the Morning's armour standing between the two oldest portraits. It was a relic now because today's armour surpassed it.
Becoming the next Sword of the Morning was the best he could ever hope for. Alijah was Lord Dayne, and Arthur was the younger brother. Betrothals came for his siblings, but none for him. He'd sent one to the single woman who could truly interact with him and look past his Valyrian-like features to see the person beneath. And outside Dorne, no house wants a second son.
The clinking of chains made Arthur turn around. Manacles dangled from the belt of Starfall's master-at-arms. "Ser Ulrick," Arthur said when the middle-aged man stopped at his side.
"Ser Arthur," Ser Ulrick said and faced Dawn's mantle. "Your prisoner was a thrice-damned piece of work. How did you resist striking the mouthy bastard?" he asked before turning to Arthur and raising his eyebrows. "He riled the guards."
Arthur gazed towards Dawn. "No good would come from striking an angry, bound and defeated criminal. There's no true purpose but personal satisfaction."
A chuckle came from beside him. "You certainly put my lessons to use, Arthur. Swordsmanship or otherwise," Ser Ulrick said and shifted his stance. "And it shows. Of all the knights alive in Westeros, only three are true knights, and you're one of them. Makes a master-at-arms proud." He stepped back. "Speaking of, I've got men to train. See you in the yard later, Arthur." Ser Ulrick hurried away.
And I've got my parents' letter for Alijah.
He left the Swords of the Morning chamber and returned to the Entrance Hall. On his feet, Alijah spoke with a patrol captain while Ashara looked at a lengthy parchment. His sister was sitting where he'd left her earlier when she opened the Martell letter.
The more the captain spoke with Alijah, the pleased expression on his brother's face grew. When Arthur began his approach, Alijah locked eyes with him and gave a smile that left him wondering what it meant. The lean captain finished and left, so Arthur closed the distance and held out the letter. "A raven from Mother or Father addressed to you. It's unlikely to be from five-year-old Gerold."
Alijah took it with a smile and broke the seal, eyes skimming the parchment until he tucked it into his pocket. "Thank you. I best find our master-at-arms. It seems I need to discuss something with him. Have you seen him?"
Arthur nodded but gave an apologetic smile. "Briefly. He's training men at the moment."
"Thank you, Brother. I'll be back shortly," Alijah said and made for the doors to the yard.
A hitch in breath came from the direction of the hall's bench. Arthur sat himself down beside his sister. "Ashara? What's the matter?" he asked and waited until her sad eyes met him. "What happened to Princess Elia?"
She rolled the letter up and set it on her other side. "I'm heartbroken for her. She believes herself dull and drab. Never sure if a man wants her for herself, not her royal title. Elia is so sweet, and finally, there's a man she believes wants her for who she is, not what she is," Ashara said and dropped her gaze for a moment. "Princess Mariah refused the offer, and Elia is devastated. She wanted him."
A struggle rolled within Arthur, and he furrowed his eyebrows. "But her mother loves her. So why would Princess Mariah refuse something meaning so much to Elia?"
Ashara swallowed with a pained expression. "Her mother wouldn't tell her. Elia suspects her mother wants a political match; warden's heir or mayhaps heir to the Iron Throne." His sister frowned and shook her head. "But Prince Doran married a Norvoshi lady from Essos; a love match, not power. Why can't she marry for love like her older brother? Doran's to be Dorne's next ruler, I might add."
It was a solid argument, and Ashara's frustration on Princess Elia's behalf was contagious. "She deserves to be happy. I'm sorry for her, Ashara. Princess Elia is a kind soul," he murmured and got to his feet. "I'd check on Estelle if Alijah hadn't had something to discuss. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do for our princess, and I hate that it's true, but Estelle lost her brother this morning. She'll need support."
Ashara nodded, and he paced before sitting back down. Nearby the door to the yard opened briefly, accompanied by a small wave of heat.
Alijah strode over. "Arthur, Ashara, thanks for your patience," he said, stopping in front of them. "I have news; a patrol along the Torentine encountered Mother and Father making their way here from High Hermitage with our cousin Gerold."
Surprise and curiosity stirred within him. "That's unexpected. Do you know why?"
Alijah nodded. "Be dressed before dawn tomorrow, and you both shall see."
Day 11, 10th Moon, 275 AC
In his bedchamber, Arthur stirred on the featherbed. It was as though he'd hardly slept, yet light approached his closed eyes. A male hand rested on his shoulder, and he rolled away, only to land in a tangled heap of sheets on the floor.
A deep chuckle rumbled, and Arthur relaxed. "Gods be good, Son." The light moved, and metal touched wood. A candle. "Come on, Arthur. We, and I mean you, need to get dressed."
Arthur threw on a light robe within reach and stood up to brush himself off. There was no speck of light outside. He smiled and straightened up. "Father," he said but paused and took in his father's formalwear. "Am I founded to hope?"
There was a smile on the shaven face of his father, eyes blueish purple and hair close to silver. Father guided him to the looking glass and stood just behind him. "What do you see?"
He used the looking glass to spot Father's eyes. "Someone with his hope at another's mercy," he said, fingers fidgeting with his robe.
"I see my son with potential. A man who is loyal, who can do what's needed. A man who wants to do good with his life," Father said and turned until their eyes met. "Do you know how Aegon Targaryen the Fifth began his life?"
Arthur shook his head. "No, Father. Only that his mother was from our House. Dyanna Dayne."
"Aegon the Fifth was the fourth son. My point is that you've been set on a certain path as a second son, but you needn't stay on it. If you're prepared to adapt, you can become something more."
Father gave a smile, but Arthur furrowed his eyebrows. "Father, there is one person who doesn't look at me and see an opportunity to boast or dream. They see past the silver hair and purple eyes. They see me-"
Father's eyes softened. "Arthur-"
"Let me finish," Arthur said, and Father nodded. "But their family refused. Unless I marry an heiress with her head in the clouds, I go no higher. You and Mother taught us it takes two to manage lands and a castle. Ashara helps Alijah for now, and they do it well. Succession isn't by age outside Dorne; all the heirs are sons. How can I be something more than I am, Father?"
A sad smile came from Father, who lifted some parchment partway out of his pocket for a moment and slid it back inside. "That is somethIng a man discovers, Son. However, the ruling princess of Dorne, Princess Mariah Martell, intends to host a feast in your honour. She informed me the people in all corners of Westeros, including Sunspear, recognise you as a true knight."
Arthur was silent, although Father stopped speaking. The feast didn't sit right in his mind. "There's never been a feast at Sunspear for that reason before," he pointed out. "Dayne true knights have never needed such a letter either."
"Which tells me it's a message of sorts." Father squeezed Arthur's shoulder. "Come, Arthur. Have a look at what your mother made you."
A set of clothes was passed to him, and he locked eyes with Father. He laid it out on the bed, and the artistry spoke of fortnights of effort. Mother was careful and slow with her needlework. Father's eyes met his. "A moon of work, at least," Arthur remarked and turned the robe over, which made his jaw slack. "More, definitely more."
Embroidered on the back was a list of names, including Davos Dayne. Close to the bottom and near the middle was the namesake of Starfall's master-at-arms, Ulrick Dayne. At the top was him. Arthur Dayne.
His mind was blank, and his feet became heavy. "Father..." he trailed.
Two hands gripped his shoulders, and Arthur turned his head. "A moon and three weeks it took, and we never doubted the decision. Your mother took great pains to have the names in the right order."
He exhaled and tilted his head to the ceiling. "Gods..." Arthur took a breath and nodded to his father.
Father smiled. "I'll wait for you in the halls."
A door closed behind him, and Arthur held the robe in his hands, thumbing the names but numb of mind. This is honestly happening. Shedding the robe he'd thrown on, he dressed and stood in front of the looking glass. He would make his family proud and show their faith wasn't misplaced.
His mind was blurred. From the Swords of the Morning chamber, Dawn was retrieved and carried by him while Father led the way to a tower. The tallest eastern surface of Starfall. Beneath a night sky of shining stars were five lit braziers, and his family stood beside one each; Alijah, Ashara, Mother, and little cousin Gerold. Father went to the last brazier. Ser Ulrick was there too, but in the centre with no light source.
In front of Ser Ulrick sat a suit of new steel plate armour, and Arthur rested the greatsword in front of it.
Ser Ulrick straightened. "Who stands below the stars for the gods to witness this night?"
He took a breath. "Ser Arthur of House Dayne. Household knight of Starfall. The younger brother of Lord Alijah Dayne of Starfall. To pledge to honour Dayne knighthood."
"Who of House Dayne deemed him worthy?" Ser Ulrick asked.
Father took a step. "Lord Ryon of House Dayne. Lord Regent of High Hermitage and father of Ser Arthur. The people support this choice." Father stepped back into the brazier's light and picked up a flagon.
Arthur met Ser Ulrick's eyes and knelt before the man who drew a sword. The tip touched Arthur's right shoulder.
A child's throat cleared. "Do you vow to be brave?" Gerold's voice asked.
"I swear this." There was a splash, and the tower darkened.
Ser Ulrick's sword now sat on his left. "Do you vow to protect all women?" his sister asked.
"I swear this." A brazier died.
The tip was on his right. "Do you vow to protect both young and frail?" Mother asked.
"I swear this." Another flame died.
His left shoulder. "Do you vow to be just?" Alijah asked.
"I swear this." The remaining light was Father's brazier.
His right. "Do you vow to treat captured opposition with integrity?" Father asked.
"I swear this." It was pure darkness but for the stars, which were becoming weaker.
Ser Ulrick's sword left Arthur's shoulder. "The stars wane, and so dawn approaches. Make any additional vows within your mind to be witnessed by the stars and gods."
Arthur closed his eyes and poured his hopes into a wordless prayer. It seemed as though he was plunging deeper and deeper into himself until he was disturbed by sunlight in front of his closed eyes.
There was metal, a sword tip, on his left shoulder. "Arise, Ser Arthur Dayne...The Sword of the Morning."
He opened his eyes to the sun, hands beneath Dawn and stood; Dawn shone as though it produced a light of its own.