ARTHUR DAYNE
Day 11, 12th Moon, 275 AC
Refreshed from training and donned in the breeches and robes of a Dornishman, he glanced skyward. Not yet high noon.
Surrounded by the lapping and rustling of water and leaves, he sat on the stone and mortar platform's low wall. He favoured thinking in the stables, but the Red Keep's stables constantly bustled.
He and Elia used this platform as their sanctuary from the Red Keep. It was outside the main walls and level with the sea of Blackwater Bay. Only accessible by rough rock steps or rowboat. On the first night in King's Landing, he'd gone for a nude swim here to get rid of his worry.
Encountering Elia doing nearly the same surprised him, but he'd taken a chance and kissed her after she nipped his lip.
The fervent hands running over his back and hair while she'd pressed herself against him in the water were an imprint that returned to his mind most nights. This morning in bed, she'd lied flush against him, soon straddled, and later in the throes while he gave her the Lord's Kiss. His new favourite memory by far.
Resisting his deepest desires challenged him greatly, but he'd fought his lust. Elia's gasps, whimpers and moans almost defeated his control.
His only experience was talk, that of guards about their wives and Oberyn's bragging years ago. However, he pleased Elia while he learnt what she liked. He messed up a few times this morning. He'd admit that, but watching her peak was something he wanted to see again.
Elia wouldn't have faked peaking. I wanted to bed her after that. Seven Hells, I already wanted to. Not just bed, though; give pleasure and make love to her.
He hadn't awoken and decided to give Elia the Lord's Kiss, far from it. His mind was occupied fighting the lust for friction against Elia's warm centre. When the servant came in, he had covered Elia's body with his own. The needy whimper on her lips had honestly tempted him then.
Eyes closed, he released a sigh. Those pleading black eyes wouldn't leave his mind. After we're back in Dorne, Elia, you'll need for nothing. I'll be yours, and you'll be mine, I pray. You'll be my wife for true, Elia Dayne.
His gaze on the water again, he glanced at the steps back to The Red Keep but paused when a man's silhouette approached.
It chuckled in amusement; their head shook with the sun brightening thin strands of silver within black. "If it's not the stables, it's the water," Alijah's voice said. He emerged from the trees donned in a robe and breeches of Dayne colours. "It always is."
Arthur's lips quirked. "Ashara would be calling me predictable. Is she here?" he asked, striding towards his brother, who stood alone. "What's brought you to King's Landing?"
Alijah acted mock-pained but smiled. "She's at Starfall, but I'm looking out for my brother," he said, growing serious. "The minute you agreed to the mummery, I knew an unsupported announcement wouldn't be enough. I've done nothing but sail since I last left King's Landing."
Although a serious topic, doubt niggled in his mind. Princess Mariah hadn't said yes when he asked to marry Elia. "Support how? I got no answer for a betrothal in Sunspear."
His brother clasped his shoulder and gave a confident nod. "Mayhaps, but I spoke to Princess Mariah, and we've negotiated an agreement. She will support the mummery if Elia's a maiden until Fourth Moon next year."
He blinked at Alijah. "That's precise."
"It gets better. Princess Mariah made the condition that you keep your cock in your breeches until then, or I'm to marry Elia instead." Alijah shook his head and released his shoulder. "Princess Mariah wouldn't compensate with that one."
I can marry Elia? "We haven't-"
"I know," Alijah said, a hand digging in his robe pocket. "It'd be unlike you if you had, so I agreed." He handed over a necklace with a centrepiece of amethysts, rubies, and pearls. "Ser Camren told me you commissioned this, so I collected it on my way back from the Sept of Baelor. A Dornishman in Dayne colours; the apprentice handed it over easy enough."
"Ser Camren? Elia? Sept of Baelor? Have I made an error, and she's praying for the best outcome?"
Alijah chuckled. "You haven't made a mess, Arthur. She went with her mother for the sept's maester. Elia doesn't trust Grand Maester Pycelle."
"Neither do I," he said. Men of the court constantly schemed. He tensed. "Princess Mariah is in King's Landing?"
Alijah grinned, amused. "How else will she support the mummery?"
The fierce Princess Mariah would want to observe him around Elia. However, an alleged husband wouldn't reduce interaction with his wife because of his goodmother's presence. He shook his head and inspected the jewel for Elia.
A circle primarily of rubies with a few amethysts, a diagonal line of pearls speared it into halves. Akin to the sky at sunset with a falling star. Elia's family sigil with a hint of his family colours.
He smiled, put it in his ceremonial robe and turned to Alijah. "Do you know where she is?"
"Elia?" Alijah asked with an amused smirk and thumbed towards the Red Keep. "Her plan was to return after the sept and find you somewhere."
He glanced up at the sky, almost high noon. "The Dining Hall."
Rising until level with Alijah, he led him up the rocky steps. Elia most likely had the Dining Hall in mind if she returned to the Red Keep after The Great Sept of Baelor. Every day, he and Elia had their midday meal together in public view. If she went anywhere, it would be there.
The typical crowd dwindled within the Red Keep halls while the Dayne brothers made good time. Seeing his brother again was a pleasant surprise. However, the peace between himself and Alijah broke as dread filled Arthur's stomach.
Ahead and flanking Prince Rhaegar, Lewyn approached wearing Kingsguard armour and cloak. When Arthur met Lewyn's eyes, the man turned grim. However, Elia's uncle mouthed something. Too many pauses within the words for him to guess, but whatever they were made Alijah sigh and lean towards him. "Brace yourself, Brother."
"For what?"
"Not here," Alijah muttered solemnly.
Curiosity burned within him. However, Prince Rhaegar gestured to a chamber and entered. Ignoring a royal request, a softened command, invited trouble. He would have to join and converse with the persistent prince.
Alijah looked around and exhaled. "We're alone." He turned to him. "I'll fight for you, Arthur, just as I would for Ashara. I'm not giving up."
He dared to ask. "What was Lewyn saying?"
"Charlton almost Stranger. Name; White Book. Aerys," Alijah said with a scowl. "If Prince Rhaegar utters you're a knight of the Kingsguard, it's horseshit. Ser Amos isn't dead, and there are only ever seven men in the Kingsguard at a time. Regardless of their condition. Prince Lewyn said 'almost' not 'with'."
For almost a fortnight now, Ser Amos's health declined. In the Kingsguard yard since taking the oaths, Lewyn used sparring to keep Arthur informed about Charlton. Ser Amos was almost taken by the Stranger, meaning days or hours remained.
But worst of all, Arthur's name was in the White Book. Ser Amos' replacement was chosen already; him.
A future with Elia had begun slipping away. The Kingsguard crept closer.
How Alijah intended to fight the decision intrigued him. Alijah was the political one and sounded ready for a fight in the Seven Hells for him.
Alijah gave an absolute expression. "Pages aren't everything," he said. "I'll do everything I can, Arthur. You have my word. Dornish or not, a husband from a prominent house appointed to the Kingsguard causes political backlash."
The names in the White Book are the king's decision. You can't fight it, Alijah. Just as I can't refuse it. I won't risk your lives for me. He gripped the box in his pocket and prayed that his brother would take caution. Should things backfire, he wouldn't know how to help. He lacked skill in politics.
Alijah clasped his shoulder. "He had ink on his fingertips, Arthur. Benign or otherwise, I'm keeping that in mind."
Together, they entered, and Prince Rhaegar sat while Lewyn stood at his flank. Alijah went forth while Arthur closed the door.
In the tidy, well-furnished and lit solar or small library, he joined Alijah and faced the prince.
"Lord Dayne, Ser Arthur," Prince Rhaegar pleasantly greeted. "Lord Dayne, it is a pleasure to see you again. I pray your voyage was merciful?"
Beneath the table, Arthur rested his hand low on the strap of Dawn's scabbard. This conversation was unusual, but Alijah gave no overt reaction. Instead, Alijah replied calmly. "Indeed, Prince Rhaegar. Naturally, the coast of the Stormlands was a little rough, but otherwise a smooth journey."
Prince Rhaegar smiled. "That pleases me." The smile fell into a grimace. "The Red Keep's court has been less than respectful to you and your companions, Lord Dayne, Ser Arthur. For that, I must apologise."
Arthur blinked and squashed the urge to glance at Alijah. "Thank you, My Prince. We ignored the insults, though."
"My brother speaks true, Prince Rhaegar. We and ours are Dornish. It was guaranteed to arise, but we've kept our dignity."
Prince Rhaegar frowned. "Nonetheless, it is unacceptable. Houses Dayne and Martell are undeserving of such. I shall see the matter improved."
Now Arthur looked at his brother. This conversation was mere pleasantries and promises the prince could only partially fulfil. What does he want now? He hasn't pursued a live steel spar since I spoke to Ser Barristan. The prince hasn't looked at Dawn's scabbard yet.
He kept quiet and nodded. Politics were Alijah's battlefield, one still foreign to him.
Alijah smiled. "That would be much appreciated, Prince Rhaegar, but we understand any change will be limited. The realm has a mind and will of its own; like us, they are people with opinions."
Prince Rhaegar's gaze rested on his hands. "People will have their opinions." His indigo eyes met Arthur's with a look of sympathy. "People like my father, and why we're here. Ser Arthur, your wife is undoubtedly missing you at the midday meal. I shan't keep you longer than I must."
He straightened in his seat. "Prince Rhaegar?"
"My father valued my opinion little and ignored my pleas," Prince Rhaegar said as though apologising. "He listens to most of the Small Council, and I will speak to them in the coming days, but you deserve the respect of a warning."
"A warning?" Arthur parroted. He couldn't respond as though he knew why. "Have I angered His Grace?" He glanced at Alijah, but his brother stared at his hands intertwined on the table.
The prince shook his head. "No, Ser Arthur. Grand Maester Pycelle was reporting to Father. He predicted Ser Amos Charlton wouldn't survive more than a couple days. Father has chosen you to replace Ser Amos despite the consequences I warned him of. Any additional comments from me will further encourage the decision. I doubt you desire that."
He shook his head. "No. I am a married man, Prince Rhaegar."
"As the court knows," Prince Rhaegar said with a sigh. "To discourage the choice, I must speak with the Small Council. They will listen to me, and Father considers their opinions. I shall do what's possible, Ser Arthur. I will speak to them all immediately."
Arthur bowed his head to the prince. He welcomed any help; at least he knew his impending fate. "I appreciate it."
Alijah straightened, and he watched Alijah's solemn expression. "And if His Grace refuses to listen to their words? Your words through them?"
Arthur looked at the prince. The man frowned grimly but nodded, eyes closed. "That is a valid question, Lord Dayne. My time will be dedicated to speaking to these men." Prince Rhaegar stood up and went to their side of the small table. He clasped Arthur's shoulder. "What can be done will be done, Ser Arthur."
Arthur gave a hesitant smile. "Thank you, Prince Rhaegar."
The prince stepped back, serious. "Take what remaining time you might have with Princess Elia. My father's mind won't change easily. I shall not keep you from your wife any longer, Ser Arthur."
Prince Rhaegar walked away while Lewyn trailed behind. Lewyn made a movement too brief for Arthur to identify, but Alijah gestured that Arthur stayed, then closed the door once Lewyn was gone with the prince.
He tensed, fidgeting as Alijah stood silent, eyes closed and frowning in the middle of the chamber for nearly a minute.
"Alijah?"
Alijah released a slow breath, but his eyes closed. "That," he said, opening his eyes, which smouldered. "Was the biggest pile of horseshit I've ever been told."
It all seemed legitimate to him, but his brother was the political one. "How big exactly?"
Alijah fisted his hands. "Nearly the whole damn thing!" he raged and took a breath. "You don't deserve my anger, Brother. He does."
"What? How do you know?"
"Prince Lewyn." Alijah sat down. He took the other chair. "While you and Targaryen talked, I watched Prince Lewyn's reactions behind him. I wasn't staring at my hands as you might think." His brother rose and went to the window. "Lewyn's message, his reactions and the grimace on the way out; it's too much of a coincidence."
Arthur rose and paced the chamber. "It seemed so genuine…" he murmured, running a hand through his hair. He had me thanking him by the end of it. Arthur shook his head. "What was the point of it all?"
His brother leaned against the table. "It appeared authentic, so he gets what he wants; there's political weight in your titles; a true knight of Westeros and Sword of the Morning." Alijah sighed. "Arthur, at best, any attempts to persuade King Aerys to change his mind will be half-hearted. The prince isn't as unhappy as he makes out to be. He'll expect you to befriend him out of gratitude."
After everything the prince said, he could imagine doing just that if Alijah hadn't witnessed everything.
Alijah met his eyes. "He fed you a story about how he's going to stop you from being named to the Kingsguard, and you'd feel indebted for his warning and effort, success or not." He waved at the door. "He doesn't expect to succeed. Did you see how he dodged my question? He repeated himself about effort. There was emphasis; he'll attempt it, but not for true."
Heaviness set itself upon his shoulders. A partial scheme. The whole conversation. Targaryen had no intention of genuinely helping. It must be possible to fix or counter without risking his loved ones. Oddly, Alijah hadn't mentioned the prince's inked fingers. "And the ink? His hands are normally clean of stains."
"I have no evidence to suggest one thing or the other, Arthur. It's useless to speculate about that, but one thing is certain," he said, clapping Arthur's shoulder. "It was horseshit, and we need to act fast."
"But how?" he asked while his stomach knotted at the risks. "Outright oppose the king, and you're as good as dead. I can't tell King Aerys no. He killed two women over a dead babe. A wet nurse, but later blamed his mistress and tortured her whole family."
Alijah squeezed his shoulder. "Princess Mariah is better at politics and more cunning than me. Find her, and there's a chance of using political pressure. The odds are slim, so brace yourself. Princess Mariah and I know we can't act blatantly against the king, but we can add pressure to the matter," his brother explained.
"Let's go, but we must be careful."
"No. Just me."
"What?"
Alijah gripped the door handle. "It takes one man to relay a message. Go to Elia and spend time with her. There's no telling how long there you have."
His brother had a point, so he pulled out the box with Elia's necklace and offered it to Alijah. "Take it. Throw it away. It isn't worth Elia's tears. I won't do that to her."
But Alijah refused. "Give her a choice, Arthur. It's no mere trinket," his brother said and left.
When Arthur left the chamber, Alijah's lavender robe vanished around a corner towards the Dining Hall. Down the same path, he sighed and gripped the strap of his scabbard, out of his depth in a sea of politics. Elia's teachings on hiding his thoughts wouldn't help hide his devastation.
Overlapping voices neared, and he approached where Elia usually ate with him. Ahead with a handmaiden, she sat wearing a regal dress he'd never seen before. Crafted in the colours of his House.
He studied the handmaiden from afar, relaxed his shoulders before sitting on Elia's other side, and nodded to the handmaiden. "Freya," he said and wrapped an arm around Elia. "Have you and Lewyn spoken?"
Freya nodded while she met his eyes, her face solemn. "When I delivered his meal in White Sword Tower, he told me to find Elia," she said and rested a hand upon Elia's. "I'm sorry. Truly. If Lord Dayne and Mariah can counteract it, they hurried out of the hall minutes ago."
He nodded and focused on Elia. If Freya knew, so would Elia. "Elia," he said and thumbed her cheek. "You know, and I know. I don't want you suffering any grief I can prevent. What do you want me to do or stop doing?"
Elia took his hands into hers and visibly swallowed. "Don't stop. Why should we? Why mourn what is yet to end? Regardless of what we do, there'll be grief later. I won't lie to myself and say Mother and Alijah aren't disadvantaged." She took his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. "We have time, long or short, and it's time better spent enjoyed together. Don't stop anything, Arthur."
He stroked her hair. "A king's decision is final, and it would take the gods to change it. You will only be more pained, Elia."
Her black eyes shone wet, and she shook her head. "It will hurt anyway." She thumbed his shoulders. "If I had to choose my last memories, I would choose happier ones. Wouldn't you?"
He dropped his gaze to his robe pocket but looked at Elia and took the plunge before he could falter. "A few days ago, I had something made. If you see it and don't want it now, I'll respect that. Never put yourself through pain just for my sake. Promise me, Elia."
"I promise." She turned on the seat until face to face and cupped his cheek. "Please show me."
With a firm grip on the box, he handed it to Elia. "I'll understand any choice," he reiterated. "Don't keep it if it will sadden you. Throw it away when I'm not looking or something."
She chastely kissed him but stayed close enough to whisper. "A good man with a good heart." Elia opened the box and gasped lightly. "Arthur…it's beautiful." Elia's black eyes met his and shone. "Rubies and pearls with a few amethysts, but my sigil. It's us, a cloudy sunset with a white spear." She took it out, the pendant in her palm. "Would you?"
"Of course."
Behind Elia, Freya peered over her shoulder and smiled while he rested the pendant on Elia's chest. Freya lifted loose hair away, which eased his work with the clasp. "Arthur, it's a gorgeous piece," Freya said. "Elia, Niece, are you sure?" She took Elia's hand. "There is little enough purple that it's still Martell, but will you be alright?"
He sat and kept quiet. The idea of Elia being pained by the gift tightened his chest. He prayed she didn't know about the contract or his likely fate would grieve her further. There was no fixing the Kingsguard situation with mere days at best or hours at worst.
"I will be," Elia said to Freya. She turned and softly stroked his face. "I will be."
He exhaled, and Elia gave him a gentle smile. Standing, he offered Elia his arm, and she looped hers through. "Let's get out of this castle. There's something I want to do. Is Ser Camren near?"
Elia nodded. "Just over there. And I tire of Steffon Baratheon and his lady wife's staring. Considering who they are, Mother no doubt did something." Steffon Baratheon had notably fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings alongside other lord paramounts and Brynden 'Blackfish' Tully.
"Ser Camren, would you join us?" he asked while the man finished his meal. Wordless, the knight rose and stood at their flank. "Thank you." He gave Elia's hand a squeeze. "We better go. I don't want to see that liar again." He turned to Freya. "Freya, we'll see you at dinner. Please tell the others."
"Take your time, Arthur, Elia," she said, giving a curtsy as though a handmaiden and not Lewyn's paramour. "Don't hurry back to this wretched place."
He kept silent on the streets of King's Landing until they reached the cheaper blacksmiths of Street of Steel. "Ser Camren," he said. "Follow us at a distance with an eye for anyone tailing Elia and me... Pretend you're scouring the forges for a good craftsman on the right," he instructed, turning towards the left. "I'll do the same on this side, but further ahead."
"As you wish, Ser."
The first handful had modest wares but not what he sought. Elia touched his arm when he moved on. "What are you looking for?"
He inspected the wares of another forge. "A reliable dagger. A knight can't limit himself to long blades all the time. I'd be disadvantaged."
While the answer was true, it wasn't why he'd come. Ascending Visenya's Hill, the forges yielded better work, but his destination stood far higher. Arthur searched here after Prince Rhaegar's second spar request a fortnight ago. He'd kept Dawn sheathed and with good reason.
Near the hill's peak, a large forge towered over the others. Multiple floors were built of timber and plaster; atop the shop sat Master Mott's home. A stone knight in red plate armour stood on each side of ebony and weirwood double doors. One suit was shaped like a griffin, the other one a unicorn. A display of the smith's impeccable ability.
Inside, and the doors closed, Elia furrowed her eyebrows. "This has to be the finest on the Street of Steel. Did you see the red armour on the statues outside?"
"Tinted metal. Only Master Mott is able."
Elia turned until close enough to whisper. "Then this craftsman will charge what he desires."
"I've already paid in full, Elia. Expensive beyond belief, but I don't care." He touched the scabbard's strap. "Will you help me?"
She embraced Arthur and kissed his cheek. "I'll make sure it gets home. How could I deny you this?"
Two days later, in their bedchamber, a pale scabbard rested fixed on his back. "There. You're ready," Elia said and cupped his face. "Should I need to, I won't fail you, Arthur."
He smiled and softly kissed her, lingering before he pulled back. "I know."
Elia made to speak, but a knock on the door interrupted. "One moment!" she called out. "Ser Camren went to Star Chaser with our servants at first light." In her beautiful dress of Dayne colours, Elia opened the door. Princess Mariah. "Mother. Come in."
The ruling princess in her House colours of Martell nodded to him. "Daughter," she said and hugged Elia. "I'd like a word alone with Ser Arthur."
He straightened and gestured to the seats by the small table. "As you wish, Princess Mariah." The door closed, he offered a seat and sat down.
"Prepared for court, I see," Princess Mariah said and sat down. "Sword of the Morning in all its glory." She sighed and met Arthur's eyes again. "When you presented Dawn and your robe to me in Sunspear, I was sceptical. I've always been around men who use titles when requesting a marriage with Elia. She is my daughter, and sorrow is the last thing I want for her."
"Princess Mariah-"
"Ser Arthur," she interrupted. "Ser Amos is dead. Lewyn instructed Freya to tell me, but neither shall tell Elia. I ask the same of you. Elia will face sorrow today if I haven't done enough. Let my daughter be happy until the last moment. A mother's request. Let her hope. Only a fool wouldn't see the pain you both will suffer. You love her."
"I do. And I will do as you ask, Princess Mariah."
Princess Mariah placed a hand upon his. "Ask one thing of me within my power, Ser Arthur. You make my daughter happy. Few men ever did, but they were ambitious while you're not. For her true happiness in this cesspit, I am indebted to you as her mother. Make your request, and it will be done."
A Kingsguard served for life; he wouldn't have a paramour hiding in plain sight as Lewyn did. He squared his shoulders. "If I'm chosen, protect my family if you seek to disprove the false marriage for Elia's sake. I'd rather carry the lie than risk the king's fury upon them."
"And if you're not named?"
He slightly smiled and looked Princess Mariah in the eyes. "I ask for your blessing to marry Elia, My Princess, willingly given. Denied if not."
She nodded stiffly. "You have it, but hurt Elia, and I will make you wish for the Seven Hells instead. She is my daughter and always will be."
He rested his hands together on the table. "It will never come to that; I give you my word as a Dayne, Princess Mariah."
"Very well, and rest assured, Ser Arthur, no harm will befall your family at my hand."
When Princess Mariah rose, so did he. "Thank you."
"They were respectable requests. Remember what I asked of you."
He nodded. "It will be done."
In the halls, Elia joined him while her mother made a hasty retreat. Elia looped their arms together. "Mother's in a hurry. Whatever she and Alijah have done in two days now has the names Baratheon, Stark, Tyrell and Arryn flying around. Tyrell less than others, though."
He smiled and hoped it convinced Elia.
In the gardens, Elia smiled at the sun on her face. "Sometimes Tully and Lannister too, but they're normally dismissed because the children would become orphans in a sense."
Upon a bench, he sat and guided Elia sideways onto his lap. She raised an eyebrow, but he wrapped an arm around her back. "More comfortable than stone?" he asked, a hand in her hair.
Elia hummed softly. "You're not normally comfortable being like this."
He leaned back to pluck a purple bloom. Seated upright, he tucked the flower behind her ear. "Most people are breaking their fasts now," he said, running his hand gently through her hair. That seemed to keep her distracted. "I doubt anybody's looking."
A small hand brushed his cheek, and he guided her into a kiss. His hand lightly gripped her waist, hers holding his shoulders. Elia rested her forehead against his. Hands ran along his body until on his shoulders again; one hand rose and thumbed his cheek.
In his mind returned the memory of pleading black eyes. He kissed Elia and traced her soft, slim form. Gentle fingers tugged his hair. Elia's alluring hum. He memorised it all.
Settled against him and eyes closed, Elia relaxed in peace. He smiled. Half hidden by her arm rested the necklace he'd given her yesterday, hints of Dayne on a Martell sigil. She'd kept it.
The sun rose higher, and he brushed Elia's waist. She sat content in his arms and gave his neck feather-light pecks occasionally. When ladies of the court came, he wanted to grimace. Moments alone in the gardens were rare because he loathed the thought of their intimacy being court gossip. Elia deserved respect.
He made to move, but Elia's hand stayed his. "Don't," she murmured. "Let them talk, Arthur. I'd rather stay like this until we must."
"You're sure?" he asked, brushing her cheek and watching her eyes open.
She gave a serene smile. "I'm sure. Do the people bother you?"
"They will if they start insulting you."
Elia thumbed his bottom lip. "We'll go when they do. Why flee a lovely morning like this?"
When her fingers ran along his back, he held her softly. "To our sanctuary when they do," he said. Elia nodded.
Many had glanced at him holding Elia in his lap, but they barely received attention from him. Elia's genuine smile was worth courtiers watching him. Mayhaps it was the lack of hiding that'd pleased her. A while later, the court session would begin.
Lords, knights and squires alike eyed him on the way to the Throne Room. His ceremonial robe contained his Sword of the Morning predecessors chronologically embroidered on the back below his name. The greatsword on Arthur's back peered out of its diagonal scabbard by a hand's width, the pale steel blade displayed.
In the lavender and white dress she'd obtained yesterday, Elia drew the gazes of men. They stole glances at him but looked away. His House colours, lavender and white, flattered Elia's olive skin. Her ruby Martell princess circlet sat atop her head.
He lifted their intertwined arms near the Throne Room and kissed her knuckles. "You're stunning when you're happy," he said, running his thumb over them when her cheeks flushed.
She made to speak, but approaching boots stopped her. "Brother, Goodsister," Alijah said and stopped before them. "Arthur, I need a word. Elia, your mother said she wishes to speak with you. She's near the front."
Elia pecked Arthur's cheek. "I'll see you inside."
Once alone, Alijah leaned in towards Arthur. "Princess Mariah wants us on the main floor of the Throne Room. The centre, preferably. Better visibility for the other courtiers."
"To what purpose?"
His brother smirked. "The Baratheons were worried yesterday, weren't they?"
"...yes…"
"It says something when the king's friend is worried, doesn't it?"
"Get to the point, Brother. I fight with swords."
Alijah gave a wry smile. "A king's friend is high on a societal level. If he's worried, it influences lesser lords. I'm a 'dirty fighter', as you would say. Come. Court begins soon."
His brother led him to the centre of the room but at the aisle's edge where the king's routine precession would pass. They stood in full view of the gallery and anyone near the centre. Elia and her mother spoke in hushed voices.
He turned to his brother. "Alijah, could you fully sheath my sword? I don't want to hit anyone."
Alijah raised an eyebrow. "Of course, you useless knight." The strap shifted for a second, but Alijah inhaled sharply. A hand gripped his shoulder almost painfully tight. "Arthur-"
"-Is not an idiot." He turned towards his brother. "That liar is obsessed. Chasing a star is more likely to be successful than asking him to stop." Arthur prayed his brother caught the reference; he couldn't blunt it more.
The grip vanished, replaced by a friendly slap. "Quite the claim since our ancestor was a star chaser, isn't it?" Alijah remarked, humour plain on his face while giving him a nod. "Be. Careful."
He stared Alijah in the eyes. "It's a bright blade, but don't make me want to roar, Alijah."
His brother chuckled and shook his head. "Best you keep to blades, Brother. Politics isn't your strong point. A little too on the nose." Alijah leaned in. "A claw would've caught it," he whispered.
Clinking mail reached his ears, and Arthur glanced at Alijah, who hurried towards Elia and Princess Mariah. Elia took his arm while Alijah stood on his other side, and the noise grew more pronounced. Princess Mariah beside Elia.
Voices fell silent, and he fought a shiver when the royal procession passed. Elia interlocked their fingers and squeezed. He raised an eyebrow, and she breathed a shaky exhale. "One less Kingsguard today," she murmured.
He thumbed her fingers and nodded. Words would do nothing now. Gaze on the king, who ascended the stairs of the ugly throne, he put on a confident face for Elia's sake. She would react to what he appeared to be, much as he'd grown restless at Alijah's fury in that chamber.
Without petitioning smallfolk, Grand Maester Pycelle turned to the king instead of welcoming announcements or requests of lords. "Your Grace, everything's in order."
King Aerys remained on his looming black throne but cleared his throat. "Arthur Dayne. Step forth."
A sharp feminine inhale came from Elia. "No," she whispered in horror.
He dropped his gaze. He must go, or it would anger the unpredictable king.
Alijah caught his eye as Arthur turned towards the aisle. "Slowly, Brother. Make a point." Alijah looked past him. "Elia, go."
With Elia on his arm, Arthur approached the throne slowly without outright tarrying. The crowd muttered uneasily, but the king's mood mattered most. He wouldn't risk an annoyed King Aerys. At the throne's base stood the five Kingsguard knights. Usually, six out of the seven attended court, while the seventh guarded the queen in her chambers.
Together, they reached the area before the throne, and he lifted his head to the king. "Yes, Your Grace?"
King Aerys' smirked, and he resisted looking to Elia for guidance. He'd expected an unsettled king, not a pleased one. "Your wife is with you. Good. Princess Elia, make yourself useful and relieve Ser Arthur of his scabbard and Dayne robe."
Whispers filled the Throne Room. Arthur ignored them but stole a glance at Ser Oswell and Lewyn among the Kingsguard. A grimace from Lewyn and sympathy from Ser Oswell. So, my fate is the Kingsguard. But I won't allow the king to torment and humiliate Elia to amuse himself and the court.
He stepped out of her reach and loosened his scabbard. "Your Grace, that task is well within my own abilities. I do pray my tunic and breeches aren't next," he said clearly.
Laughter echoed, and King Aerys gripped the arms of his throne, his face red. "Enough!" The hall fell silent. "You, Ser Arthur, are named to the Kingsguard in light of Ser Amos Charlton's death," he announced, voice echoing off the walls. "Remove your scabbard, robe and kneel, or I will show no mercy."
Frankly, King Aerys had already disrespected the Dornish, but Arthur kept quiet. Elia stood nearby, and the king could embarrass her if he wished. Would King Aerys dare command Elia to remove her Dayne dress since she's a Martell by birth? Would he? Gods, I hope not.
He removed his scabbard and robe as commanded and got on his knees. Defying the king could cost Elia her dignity and honour because she made a perfect target to hurt him. The sooner Elia is out of the Throne Room, the sooner she is safe. He braced himself to swear the oaths.
"Do you swear to protect your king and the royal family with your own life?" King Aerys said in a tone brooking no argument.
He glanced at Prince Rhaegar behind the Kingsguard. The prince watched him with sympathy; those eyes went to Arthur's scabbard after a second. With a breath, he answered the king. "I swear, Your Grace."
"Do you swear to obey my commands and keep my secrets?"
"I swear, Your Grace." Within, he stilled. The following oath swore against children and wives, he knew. He stole a periphery glance towards Elia. As far as King's Landing believed, Elia married him.
"Princess Elia," King Aerys commanded. Arthur snapped his gaze to the king, who smirked. "Stand in front of Ser Arthur and look him in the eyes."
With every fibre of his being, he wanted to glare at the king for this. King Aerys intended to inflict cruelty and more pain upon Elia. Upon both of them.
The whipping of soft fabric made him look behind. A flame of Martell red silk stormed towards the Iron Throne. "Don't take one step, Elia!" Princess Mariah raged, glaring at the king, her hand on Elia's shoulder. "My daughter has done nothing, but you've taken her husband! You will not use Elia for your amusement, Aerys Targaryen!"
Thank the gods. He sighed as light as possible. Standing with her mother, Elia had wet eyes and swallowed periodically. We knew this was a possibility, but I should have told you this morning. I'm sorry. But go before the king reacts!
Prince Rhaegar emerged from behind the Kingsguard and stood before mother and daughter. "Princess Mariah, Princess Elia, if you would follow me," he said respectfully and proceeded towards the doors.
Princess Mariah guided Elia by the shoulder out of Arthur's sight, but the steps of three people echoed in the Throne Room. Above him, the king scowled and watched his son leave with the two Dornish princesses.
Their steps were faint when a comment wafted from the entrance. "At least you're decent, Prince Rhaegar."
King Aerys bared his teeth for a second and dropped his gaze to the looming throne's base. "Ser Arthur, do you swear to hold no lands, have no wife, and father no children?"
Elia and Princess Mariah were safe and out of the Throne Room, so he tarried with the response for ten seconds. Alijah would suggest something like this. People stirred uneasily. "I swear." You have no honour to make a man abandon who you think is his wife.
The rest passed in a blur; the cloak from the Lord Commander, the final line of until death, his possessions with Dayne insignia given to Alijah, redressed into the full Kingsguard uniform and armour in his sleeping cell of White Sword Tower.
By the window of his sparse chamber, he stared out at Blackwater Bay, where Star Chaser sailed away, the Dayne colours for all to see. Alijah, Elia and Princess Mariah were safer and better off away from King's Landing.
The sun was now low, his door creaked, and Lewyn joined him at the window. "I'm sorry you and Elia were ripped from each other like that," Lewyn said, holding a dagger out the window until the sunlight hit the blade. "Do as I do and tilt your blade towards Star Chaser." Lewyn stepped back. "Alijah slipped me a message to demonstrate that near sunset."
He gave Lewyn a nod. "Thank you."
The man clasped his shoulder. "Use a sword instead and wait. I'm assuming it'll be my niece, so I'll leave you to it." Lewyn said and closed the door.
He drew the pale steel greatsword out of the scabbard and mimicked Lewyn's actions. Blade tilted towards Star Chaser, and Arthur bit his lip. "Come on, please be looking." A piss poor goodbye, but better than nothing.
A few seconds later, a milk-white shine appeared on Star Chaser's helm in the shape of an irregular longsword.
He released a breath. Elia, I hope you find another person to truly love you. I'm sorry, it can't be me anymore.
He maintained the angle for a minute and brought his sword back inside. The milk-white shine coming from Star Chaser vanished soon after.
Prince Rhaegar, you didn't get everything by ruining my future with Elia. Fakes are all you'll get. I'd marry Elia in a few moons if it weren't for your scheming.