Visenya was silent for a long time. This is supposed to be the person who will keep her company on the journey?

After all, she studied history, she knew that this famous knight died years ago.

"He's dead, killed during Robert's Rebellion." she finally said with certainty in her voice. She felt her heart slowly calm down, but her body remained tense. And she was still hot, partly because of the dragon that was constantly pressed against her chest.

"Fate saved me from death, I didn't know why for a long time, but now I know - let me serve you, just like I once served your father."

"Did you know him?" what a stupid question, of course he knew him... If it was really Ser Arthur Dayne, then he was her father's best friend. She had heard about it from Selaria, and sometimes she wondered what the world was like back then, before the war.

She wanted to ask another question, but suddenly the dragon that had been cuddling her the whole time decided to free itself from her embrace and come out from under the coat to sit on her shoulder.

At this point he was lost for words. He had experienced a lot, his eyes had seen a lot throughout his life, but they had never seen a real dragon, only skulls in the Red Keep. But his eyesight didn't deceive him, it was a dragon and it was sitting on her shoulder.

This sight only made him more convinced of why he had survived the war.

"Yes. And as I once did to him, so now I swear to you: My sword and my life belong to you, and I will defend you even at the cost of my own life."

In the morning she stood on the deck of the ship, with her hands resting on the railing, looking ahead at the wide waters of the sea. She hadn't talked much to Ser Arthur the previous evening, she was too concerned with her own thoughts, what had happened and what she was experiencing. She realized that the sight of a dragon would surprise anyone who saw it, and she was used to not making any sensations around herself.

And soon she was going to be the center of attention and she didn't know what to think about it anymore.

Just as it was hard for her to comprehend the fact that her father's best friend, whom she had never had the opportunity to meet, was alive, standing next to her and it seemed that he would not leave her side any time soon.

"Where are we going anyway?" Visenya asked, still not taking her eyes off the deep blue of the sea. The wind blew her braided hair and forced her to close her eyes.

"Volantis." he answered her in one word, looking in the same direction as her.

"And then?"

"Wherever you want." she frowned slightly, turning her head towards him. She wasn't used to making decisions about her life, she was just starting to get used to having a real influence on it.

"I want to go home."she said directly. "But my home is nowhere to be found." she had to turn her face again so that the wind wouldn't blow on her, because it didn't help her stop the tears at all.

There is no place for her in this world. In Essos she is a complete stranger, a nameless person, and in Westeros she is the granddaughter of the Mad King, the daughter of the "last dragon" and Tywin Lannister's war trophy - possibly a bargaining chip in case her aunt...

Exactly. Daenerys Targaryen.

"I've heard about Daenerys Targaryen." she started speaking again after a few moments of silence. "I heard she was heading to Astapor. We will go there too." she never saw her aunt, but she was her only remaining family. It seemed reasonable to go to her.

Ser Arthur nodded. He sincerely felt sorry for her, looked at her and saw a girl wronged by fate, whom he now wanted to protect from all harm. He felt that he owed it to his long-dead friend, that if fate had decided to save his life, it was for this reason.

Every time he looked into her purple eyes, it was as if he were looking at Rhaegar.

"What was my father like...?" she asked uncertainly and very quietly, again not looking at Ser Arthur. She didn't know what to think about this man, she didn't trust him yet. She recalled all the stories she had heard from the famous Sword of the Morning. Especially when she lived in Casterly Rock and was learning Westeros history.

"And what do you know about him, Your Grace?"

"Nothing. I know almost nothing about him, I don't know what to think about him... I know that he betrayed my mother and started a war by kidnapping Lyanna Stark." the truth was that it was not only the Mad King who caused the rebellion and the fall of the dynasty. Her father's act was the straw that broke the camel's back and ended the friendly relations between the crown and the rest of the kingdoms, especially the North, for good.
Beyond Dorne, which was connected to the Targaryens through her mother.

"He was more than a prince who kidnapped someone's bride out of love."

"A husband who left his wife and three children?" she replied, looking the knight straight in the eye for the first time. "Don't defend him just because he was your friend, ser."

"He had to become my friend first for some reason." she held his gaze for a few more moments before she sighed quietly and turned her gaze back to the horizon. "He was loved by the people of the Seven Kingdoms before he kidnapped Lyanna Stark."

"Right, before he kidnapped her..."

"Nobody is only good or evil."

"Are you implying that I'm evil?" she looked at him again, this time with an irritated look that contained a hint of misunderstanding.

"Are you good?"

She didn't answer, but the answer was obvious: No.

For example, how she tricked Jaime into killing the septa who taught her as a child. She was responsible for her death, although she never regretted what she did.

The way she treated Jaime Lannister was also cruel, she took advantage of his feelings and pretended to reciprocate them in order to escape from the prison that was King's Landing. And these are just the clearest two examples of her not being crystal good.

"Ultimately, it's what people think that counts, not who you truly are." she smiled gently to herself. He was right, again, he was right. But she didn't admit it out loud.

Instead, she thought that she would like people to see her as she really is. So that their opinion about her coincides with reality. Without pulling the wool over your eyes or spoiling your image on purpose, everything should be authentic.

A utopian vision? Very likely.
But there remains this small sliver of hope that reality could look like this.

That night, sleep wasn't kind to her. She couldn't sleep, and when she did, it wasn't a blissful state of unconsciousness or a dream, but something confusingly reminiscent of reality, like several dreams she'd had before.

She had been walking forward for several minutes, between units of faceless soldiers. They stood sideways to her, facing the direction she was heading. But every time she turned or walked towards them to see their face, it was just an all black. No eyes, nose or mouth. Devoid of any expression, it should have aroused fear or at least anxiety in her, but nothing like that happened. Looking into the emptiness of their faces, she felt... Only compassion. As if she was looking at a reflection of herself without any personality.

She had no better choice, so she kept moving forward, confidently. After another long minute of walking, she passed all the soldiers and stood in front of a simple stone sarcophagus on which sat three dragons, the same as in one of her old dreams. She didn't pay attention to the sarcophagus at all, only to the three beings sitting on it.

She leaned forward, slowly extending her hand to the one with black scales. She gently placed her hand on his head, then ran it down his neck. The other two dragons approached her, one - with green scales - put his head under her free hand, tossing her to pet him as well.

Visenya smiled widely, touching all three dragons gently. They were so small and didn't seem dangerous at all, on the contrary - they seemed defenseless. Although Vis knew perfectly well that these were completely false impressions.

"Sōvegon." she said in Valyrian, and the dragons obeyed her almost immediately, taking to the air. She saw them flying away somewhere in front of her. Maybe it was just her illusions, but it seemed to her that they were growing very quickly during the flight, as if years were passing by.

But something quickly distracted her from observing these majestic creatures.

She heard quick footsteps behind her and the sound of a sword being drawn. She turned around abruptly and for a split second she saw a man whose face she didn't recognize. He was middle-aged and had blond hair, a beard and mustache of the same color. She saw the gleam of hatred in his blue eyes before he swung his sword at her, intending to plunge it deep into her chest.

She woke up and didn't sleep again that night. She didn't know this man, she had never met him in her life, and he seemed to have a hatred for her that she had never seen in anyone before.
If she ever meets him and her dream turns out to be any reflection of reality... Well, she hopes that she either manages to escape or that Ser Arthur takes seriously his oath to defend her.