The heat of Sunspear pressed down like a weight upon the city. The scorching sun hung high in the sky, casting long shadows over the palace walls as the sea breeze failed to cool the intense warmth. Arthur Dayne stood alone on one of the palace's many balconies, his hands resting on the cool stone railing, eyes fixed on the shimmering waters of the Narrow Sea beyond. His mind raced with thoughts of the days to come, of the child hidden within the palace walls, and of the monumental task that lay before him.
It had been three days since his arrival in Sunspear with Aegon, the last son of Rhaegar Targaryen. Three days of silence, secrecy, and waiting. The child was safe, for now, but Arthur knew that safety was a fleeting thing. Sunspear may have been a place of refuge, but it was not immune to the dangers lurking outside its walls. The weight of his duty bore down on him, and each passing hour seemed to remind him of the peril they were in.
As Arthur stood in quiet contemplation, the door behind him opened with a soft creak. He turned to see Doran Martell, the prince of Dorne, enter the room. Doran's steps were slow and deliberate, his expression as unreadable as ever. The man was a master of control, a strategist whose mind always seemed to be ten steps ahead of everyone else.
"Arthur," Doran said in greeting, his voice calm but carrying an undertone of curiosity. "You've been waiting patiently these last few days. I imagine you are eager to speak."
Arthur nodded. "Yes, my prince. There is much to discuss."
Doran moved to stand beside Arthur, his gaze following the knight's out toward the sea. For a long moment, neither man spoke. The only sound was the faint murmur of the city below and the distant crash of waves against the shore.
"It's strange, isn't it?" Doran finally said, his voice soft, almost reflective. "To think that beneath these peaceful waters, there are currents pulling at the world, shaping the future in ways we cannot yet see."
Arthur remained silent, unsure of where Doran's thoughts were leading.
Doran turned his head slightly, his sharp eyes glancing at Arthur. "You've brought me something far more dangerous than a child, Arthur. You've brought me a claim to a throne. A threat to the current order. A boy whose existence could tear the realm apart."
Arthur exhaled slowly. "He is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen. The true heir to the Iron Throne."
Doran's lips tightened, and he gave a small nod. "Yes. And that makes him both precious and perilous." He paused, his gaze drifting back to the horizon. "You realize, of course, the gravity of what you've done. By bringing him here, to Sunspear, you've set a chain of events in motion that cannot easily be undone."
"I had no choice," Arthur replied firmly. "There was nowhere else. Aegon needed to be hidden, to be kept safe."
Doran raised an eyebrow. "And you thought Dorne would be the safest place for him?"
Arthur met Doran's gaze. "I thought you—Dorne—might be the only place left that could protect him. Elia Martell died at the hands of the Lannisters. Her children were butchered. Surely, you wouldn't turn your back on her nephew?"
The mention of Elia's name caused Doran's expression to harden, his jaw clenching slightly. "Elia's death was an atrocity, a crime that can never be forgiven. The Lannisters will pay for what they did to her."
Arthur nodded slowly. "Then help me protect her nephew. Aegon is all that's left of Rhaegar's line. He is the rightful king."
Doran's eyes narrowed, his gaze turning cold. "Rightful? Perhaps. But being rightful means little in this world if you do not have the power to claim what is yours. Aegon may have a name, but he has no army. He has no allies. And in Westeros, a name alone does not win thrones."
Arthur's grip tightened on the railing. "Then what do you suggest, my prince? You cannot mean to hide him forever."
Doran shook his head. "No. But neither can we act rashly. You brought him here, to Dorne, because you believed he would be safe. And he is, for the moment. But if his existence becomes known, it will bring the full weight of the Lannisters, of Robert Baratheon, crashing down upon us."
Arthur's voice lowered, the tension in his words clear. "And what would you have me do? Sit here and wait while the boy grows older, while the world forgets that a true king lives in hiding?"
Doran sighed, his tone softening. "I understand your frustration, Arthur. Truly, I do. But we must think strategically. The boy is young—he has time. Time to grow, time to learn, time for us to build alliances that will support him when the day comes for him to reveal himself."
Arthur frowned, his brow furrowing. "And how long will that take? How long before Aegon is ready to claim his birthright?"
Doran's gaze sharpened. "As long as it takes. We cannot rush this. If we reveal him too soon, without the necessary support, it will be a disaster. And Dorne cannot afford another disaster."
There was a long pause as Arthur considered Doran's words. He understood the prince's caution, but every instinct within him screamed that time was of the essence. Aegon could not remain in hiding forever. There were too many enemies, too many eyes that might eventually uncover the truth.
"But what about Oberyn?" Arthur asked, breaking the silence. "He will not accept this easily. He will want to act."
Doran's lips pressed into a thin line at the mention of his brother. "Oberyn... yes. My brother's thirst for vengeance burns hot. He will not be pleased to know that I have kept this secret from him."
Arthur's concern deepened. Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, was a man of action, driven by a desire for justice and revenge against the Lannisters for the murder of his sister, Elia. Arthur had no doubt that once Oberyn learned of Aegon's existence, he would push for immediate retaliation, for open war.
Doran seemed to sense Arthur's unease and offered a small, knowing smile. "Do not worry, Arthur. Oberyn is impulsive, but he is also my brother. I will speak with him. He trusts me, though it will not be easy to temper his anger."
Arthur nodded but remained unconvinced. The dynamic between the two brothers was known throughout Dorne—Doran's calm patience and Oberyn's fiery passion. They complemented one another, but Arthur feared that Aegon's presence might reignite a long-smoldering conflict between them.
Doran's expression grew more serious, his voice lowering as he spoke again. "I need you to understand, Arthur, that protecting Aegon is not just about keeping him hidden. It is about ensuring that when he is ready, he has the power to reclaim what is his. That means building alliances—here in Dorne and beyond. It means playing the game of thrones carefully, without tipping our hand too soon."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "And how do we build those alliances without revealing him?"
Doran smiled faintly. "That is the art of politics, Ser Arthur. We lay the groundwork now, plant the seeds of doubt and dissatisfaction with the current rule. We create the conditions for rebellion, without openly declaring it."
Arthur shook his head slightly, the complexity of it all feeling foreign to him. He had never been a man of intrigue, of plots and schemes. His life had always been the sword, the battlefield. But now, more than ever, he felt the weight of the political game being played around him.
"I will train him," Arthur said, more to himself than to Doran. "When the time comes, he will be ready."
Doran nodded, though his eyes held a mixture of caution and concern. "Good. He will need your strength, Arthur. But remember, it is not strength alone that wins wars. We must be patient, careful."
Arthur glanced out over the city again, his thoughts turning to the boy hidden within the palace walls. Aegon was too young to understand the storm gathering around him, but soon enough, he would be thrust into a world of politics, war, and betrayal. Arthur could only hope that when that time came, the boy would be ready.
But there was another, more pressing concern weighing on Arthur's mind—the danger of discovery. Sunspear was a safe place, for now, but secrets had a way of slipping out. And if anyone learned of Aegon's true identity, there would be no turning back.
"We will need to ensure that no one—absolutely no one—outside of these walls learns of the boy's true identity," Arthur said, his voice hardening with resolve. "If word gets out, it will bring ruin down upon us."
Doran's expression grew grim. "You're right. We must be careful. I will speak with my most trusted advisors, and I will ensure that no one speaks of this outside of Sunspear."
Arthur nodded, though he knew that no matter how careful they were, secrets had a way of escaping. And if that happened, they would face the wrath of the Iron Throne.
For now, though, the boy was safe. And Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, would stand as his shield.
The Night of Sunspear...Later that night, Arthur lay awake in the small room given to him within the palace. The soft murmur of the sea was barely audible through the thick stone walls, and the flickering light of a single candle cast long shadows across the room. Aegon slept peacefully in a crib beside the bed, unaware of the weight of his destiny.
Arthur could not sleep. His mind was too troubled, too filled with the conversation he'd had with Doran earlier that day. The prince had spoken calmly, rationally, but Arthur knew the danger was real. They were walking a razor's edge, and a single misstep could bring everything crashing down.
As the night deepened, Arthur rose quietly from his bed and walked over to the small window. He pushed it open, letting the cool breeze wash over him as he stared out at the city. Sunspear was quiet, its streets empty in the dead of night. But even in this moment of peace, Arthur could feel the tension building.
Aegon stirred in his sleep, and Arthur turned back toward the crib. He knelt beside the child, watching him for a long moment. In the dim light, the boy's soft features reminded him so much of Rhaegar—the same eyes, the same quiet grace. Arthur had sworn to protect him, to raise him in honor of his father's memory.
But the task ahead was monumental. And Arthur could not help but wonder, as he watched the boy sleep, if he would be strong enough to see it through.