The blazing sun cast its harsh light over the endless dunes of Dorne, painting the landscape in shades of gold and red. Sunspear stood proud amidst the desert, its towers and courtyards providing an oasis of stone and cool shade against the blistering heat. Yet, inside the palace walls, the weight of duty hung heavily upon those who guarded the greatest secret in Westeros.
In the training yard, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, watched as the young boy before him struggled with the wooden sword in his hands. Prince Aegon Targaryen, though still a child of barely seven years, had a fierceness in his violet eyes—a fierceness that came from his bloodline, though he was far from mastering the art of combat. Arthur had seen this determination before, in Prince Rhaegar, but this boy was still growing into his legacy.
"Keep your stance firm, Your Grace," Ser Arthur said, his voice calm yet instructive. He stepped forward and gently adjusted the boy's grip on the hilt. "You must feel the sword as an extension of your arm, not a burden. Let it move with you."
Aegon nodded, sweat dripping from his brow, his small frame trembling with the effort to balance the blade. His arms, though not yet strong enough for real combat, moved with increasing precision under Arthur's careful tutelage. The wooden sword struck against Arthur's with a light thud, the blow deflected with ease.
Arthur's face remained impassive, though he could sense the frustration building in the boy. Aegon was eager to prove himself, to be worthy of the name he carried, but Arthur knew better than to rush a child into the horrors that awaited him outside these walls.
"You're improving, Your Grace," Arthur said, offering a nod of approval. "But remember, it's not about strength. It's about control. Let your instincts guide you."
Aegon looked up at him, determination etched across his young face. "Will I ever be as skilled as you, Ser Arthur?"
Arthur felt a flicker of emotion stir in his chest, but his voice remained steady. "In time, Your Grace. But remember, skill with a sword is only one part of being a great ruler. You must also learn when to use your blade—and when to stay your hand."
Aegon seemed to consider this for a moment, his small lips pressing into a tight line. He was still a child, after all, though Arthur could already see the makings of the man he would one day become. But there was much to teach him yet—far more than how to swing a sword.
Just as Aegon raised his wooden blade for another attempt, a voice interrupted them from the edge of the training yard.
"Ser Arthur."
Arthur turned to see Lady Nymeria Sand, one of the daughters of Prince Oberyn Martell, leaning casually against the stone archway. Her dark eyes glinted with amusement, and a faint smile tugged at the corners of her lips. Though still young herself, Nymeria carried her father's fire in her veins, her sharp tongue and quick reflexes earning her a reputation as one of the most promising of Oberyn's children.
"His Grace requires your presence, Ser Arthur," she said, tilting her head slightly. "Prince Oberyn is waiting."
Arthur straightened, his expression respectful. "Thank you, my lady. I will attend him shortly."
Nymeria's gaze flickered toward Aegon, who was still gripping his practice sword tightly. "You've been spending quite a bit of time with the boy," she remarked, her tone light but curious. "He's improving, though. You make a fine teacher."
Arthur gave a slight nod, but his focus remained on Aegon. "His Grace learns quickly."
With a playful smirk, Nymeria pushed away from the wall and sauntered off, leaving Arthur and Aegon alone once more. Arthur turned back to the young prince, his expression softening as he addressed him again.
"We'll continue your lesson tomorrow, Your Grace," Arthur said gently. "For now, go inside and rest."
Aegon hesitated, the determination in his eyes not yet quenched, but he gave a respectful nod. "Yes, Ser Arthur."
Arthur watched as Aegon turned and walked toward the palace, his small figure disappearing into the shadows of the cool corridors. Once the boy was out of sight, Arthur sheathed his sword and began making his way toward the chambers where Prince Oberyn awaited him.
The cool air inside the palace was a stark contrast to the sweltering heat outside. Arthur's boots echoed softly against the stone floors as he navigated the familiar halls of Sunspear, his mind already focused on the meeting ahead. Oberyn Martell was not a man who summoned others without reason, and Arthur had learned long ago that the Red Viper was a man whose temper was as sharp as his blade.
As Arthur entered the private chambers, he found Prince Oberyn Martell seated by a low table, a goblet of wine in hand. The prince's dark eyes glittered with that dangerous intensity that always seemed to simmer just below the surface. Despite the relaxed posture, there was a coiled energy about him, like a serpent waiting to strike.
"Ser Arthur," Oberyn said, his voice smooth but edged with something darker. "It's been a while since we last spoke."
Arthur bowed his head respectfully. "Your Grace."
Oberyn's lips twitched into a faint smile as he gestured to the seat across from him. "Come. Sit. We have much to discuss."
Arthur took his seat, his movements precise and controlled. Despite Oberyn's reputation for fiery passion, Arthur had always approached the prince with respect and caution. The Red Viper was not a man to be trifled with, and Arthur knew that his loyalty to House Targaryen would be tested under Oberyn's watchful gaze.
"You've been spending quite a bit of time with the boy," Oberyn remarked, swirling the wine in his goblet. "How is he progressing?"
Arthur's expression remained neutral. "His Grace is learning quickly, my prince. He shows promise."
Oberyn's eyes narrowed slightly, as if measuring Arthur's words. "Learning quickly is good, but it's not enough. The world is full of vipers, Ser Arthur, and young Aegon will need more than just a sharp sword if he is to survive."
Arthur nodded, fully aware of the dangers that awaited the boy. "That is why I am teaching him patience, Your Grace. The sword is only one tool. His Grace will need to learn when to wield it, and when to use his mind instead."
Oberyn leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. "And what of his blood? You know as well as I do that Aegon's name alone is enough to draw enemies from every corner of Westeros. His blood is a beacon, and it will draw the wolves out of their dens soon enough."
Arthur's grip tightened subtly on the arms of his chair. "We will protect him, my prince. As long as he remains in Dorne, he is safe."
Oberyn's smile widened, though there was no warmth in it. "Safe? Ser Arthur, you know as well as I do that nowhere is truly safe in this world. Not even here."
Arthur remained calm, though he could feel the tension building between them. Oberyn was right—Dorne was not an impenetrable fortress. The boy's existence was a secret, but secrets had a way of slipping through cracks, no matter how well-guarded they were.
"We must be cautious, Your Grace," Arthur said, his tone respectful but firm. "We cannot reveal him to the world until the time is right. His Grace will need to be prepared for what lies ahead."
Oberyn's eyes darkened. "And how long do you propose we wait, Ser Arthur? Until the Lannisters send their men to finish what they started? Until Robert Baratheon hears whispers of a Targaryen heir and sends his armies to Dorne?"
Arthur's jaw tightened, though he kept his voice even. "Prince Doran is careful, my prince. He is working to secure allies, to ensure that when the time comes, we will be ready."
Oberyn snorted softly, leaning back in his chair. "Doran and his careful plans. Always waiting, always watching. But we cannot wait forever, Ser Arthur. Time is not on our side."
Arthur lowered his gaze briefly before meeting Oberyn's eyes once more. "I serve House Targaryen, my prince. I will protect Prince Aegon with my life, and I will follow the orders of Prince Doran in the meantime. I trust in his wisdom."
Oberyn studied Arthur for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he let out a slow breath and set his goblet down on the table.
"Very well, Ser Arthur," Oberyn said, though there was still a trace of fire in his voice. "But remember this—when the time comes, it will not be patience that saves him. It will be strength."
Arthur nodded respectfully. "I understand, Your Grace."
Oberyn stood, his movements fluid and predatory, like a snake coiling for a strike. "We will speak again soon, Ser Arthur. Until then, continue training the boy. He will need every bit of skill you can teach him."
Arthur rose from his seat and bowed once more. "As you command, Your Grace."
With that, Oberyn turned and strode from the room, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. The weight of his duty pressed heavily upon him, but he had made his vow. He would protect Prince Aegon with his life, no matter the cost.
As Arthur left the chambers, he couldn't help but wonder how long they could truly keep the boy hidden. The world outside Sunspear was filled with dangers—dangers that even the Sword of the Morning might not be able to fend off forever.
The corridors of Sunspear were quiet as Ser Arthur Dayne made his way back toward the quarters where Prince Aegon resided. The conversation with Prince Oberyn lingered in his mind, the prince's words echoing with the weight of truth. Oberyn's fiery temperament, his thirst for immediate action, was in stark contrast to the patience and careful planning that Prince Doran insisted upon. Arthur had always served with honor and duty, but even he could feel the shifting tides of uncertainty in Dorne.
As Arthur entered the modest yet well-guarded quarters assigned to Aegon, he found the boy sitting by a low table, his eyes scanning a scroll. The flickering light of a nearby candle cast soft shadows across the room. Despite his young age, Aegon had developed a quiet intensity when it came to his studies. He was not yet aware of the full weight of his identity, but there were glimpses of understanding in the boy's eyes, a curiosity about the world that went beyond the innocence of childhood.
Arthur approached with quiet steps, ensuring his presence did not startle the young prince. "Your Grace, how are the studies progressing?"
Aegon looked up from the scroll, his brow furrowing slightly as he spoke. "I'm learning about the histories of the great houses, Ser Arthur. But there are so many. It's difficult to remember them all."
Arthur allowed a small smile to touch his lips. "You will learn, Your Grace. In time, these names will become as familiar as the faces of your friends."
Aegon set the scroll down, his gaze thoughtful. "Do I have many friends?"
The question caught Arthur off guard, though his expression remained calm. Aegon's life had been one of isolation, hidden away from the world for his own protection. The Sand Snakes, Oberyn's daughters, had been his occasional companions during training, but Arthur knew the boy had not experienced the bonds of true friendship.
"You are not without friends, Your Grace," Arthur replied gently. "There are many who care for you. And one day, when the time is right, you will meet others who will stand by your side."
Aegon's eyes searched Arthur's face, as if trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. "But why must I stay here, hidden? Why can't I see more of Dorne, or meet more people?"
Arthur paused, choosing his words carefully. He had always been honest with the boy, but there were truths that Aegon was not yet ready to bear. "You are kept hidden for your safety, Your Grace. There are those in the world who would wish you harm, and it is our duty—my duty—to protect you from those dangers."
Aegon's face fell slightly, though he nodded in understanding. "I know you're protecting me, Ser Arthur. I just… I want to do more. To be more."
Arthur felt a pang in his chest at the boy's words. He could see the frustration building in Aegon, the desire to break free of the confines of his sheltered life. The boy was growing, and with each passing day, the walls of Sunspear seemed to close in around him. But the world beyond those walls was far more dangerous than Aegon could imagine.
"One day, Your Grace," Arthur said softly. "One day, you will have the chance to show the world who you are. But for now, you must trust in those who protect you."
Aegon met Arthur's gaze, his young face resolute. "I trust you, Ser Arthur."
The sincerity in the boy's voice struck Arthur deeply. He had sworn an oath to protect the Targaryens, and though he had failed to save Prince Rhaegar, he would not fail Aegon. The boy's trust was a reminder of the duty that weighed upon him—a duty that extended far beyond mere swordplay and training. Arthur was not just Aegon's protector; he was his mentor, his guide, and perhaps one of the few constants in the boy's life.
"Thank you, Your Grace," Arthur said, bowing his head in respect. "Your trust is an honor."
Aegon gave a small smile before looking back at the scroll on the table. His curiosity seemed insatiable, and Arthur admired that about the boy. He had the mind of a scholar, but Arthur knew that one day, Aegon would need to become more than just a learned prince—he would need to be a leader.
"Tell me more about the Targaryens," Aegon said suddenly, his eyes flicking up to meet Arthur's. "My family."
Arthur straightened slightly, his expression becoming more formal. "Your family, Your Grace, ruled the Seven Kingdoms for nearly three hundred years. They were dragons—both in blood and in spirit. They forged the Iron Throne and united the realm through strength and fire."
Aegon's eyes gleamed with curiosity. "And my father? Prince Rhaegar?"
Arthur hesitated. Speaking of Prince Rhaegar was always a delicate matter. The prince had been a man of many contradictions—both beloved and scorned, both noble and flawed. Arthur had served him faithfully, but the events that had led to Rhaegar's downfall were still painful to recount.
"Your father was a great man, Your Grace," Arthur said carefully. "He was a warrior, a scholar, and a prince who sought to bring peace to the realm. But the world is often cruel, even to those with the noblest of intentions."
Aegon's brow furrowed. "But he failed, didn't he? He died, and the throne was lost."
Arthur's chest tightened at the boy's blunt assessment, though he could not fault Aegon's words. The truth was undeniable. Rhaegar had died on the Trident, and with him, the Targaryen dynasty had been shattered.
"Yes," Arthur admitted quietly. "Your father fell in battle, and the Iron Throne was taken from your family. But that does not diminish his legacy, Your Grace. You are the last of the Targaryens, and through you, that legacy lives on."
Aegon looked down at the table, his fingers tracing the edge of the scroll. The weight of his name, his bloodline, was beginning to sink in. Arthur could see it in the boy's posture, in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if burdened by a crown he had yet to wear.
"I won't fail," Aegon said softly, almost to himself. "When the time comes, I won't fail."
Arthur's heart swelled with a mixture of pride and sorrow. The boy's determination was admirable, but the road ahead was fraught with dangers that even a prince could not foresee. Still, Arthur would stand by him, as he had stood by his father.
"You will not fail, Your Grace," Arthur said firmly. "Not while I am by your side."
Later that evening, Arthur stood on one of the balconies of Sunspear, the cool desert breeze offering a brief respite from the heat of the day. Below, the lights of the city flickered like distant stars, and the sound of the sea lapping against the shore was a soft, rhythmic lullaby. Despite the tranquility of the scene, Arthur's mind was restless.
The conversation with Prince Oberyn still weighed heavily on him. Oberyn was right—time was not on their side. The longer they kept Aegon hidden, the more precarious their situation became. Secrets were powerful, but they were also fragile. And in a land like Westeros, where power shifted with the tides, no secret could remain hidden forever.
Arthur's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind him. He turned to see Prince Doran Martell, his expression as calm and measured as ever. Doran was a man of quiet wisdom, a stark contrast to his fiery younger brother. Where Oberyn acted on impulse, Doran calculated every move with the precision of a master strategist.
"Ser Arthur," Doran greeted, his voice soft but commanding. "I see you've been speaking with my brother."
Arthur bowed his head respectfully. "Yes, Your Grace. Prince Oberyn has concerns about the boy's safety."
Doran nodded slowly, his gaze drifting out toward the horizon. "Oberyn is not wrong to worry. The Lannisters are ever watchful, and King Robert is not a man who forgets grudges easily. If they learn of Aegon's existence..."
He trailed off, leaving the unspoken threat hanging in the air. Arthur understood all too well what Doran was implying. The fall of House Targaryen had been swift and brutal, and those who had survived had done so only through exile and secrecy.
"I trust in your judgment, Your Grace," Arthur said quietly. "But I must ask—how long can we keep this secret? Aegon is growing, and he will not remain hidden forever."
Doran's expression remained impassive, though there was a flicker of something—perhaps doubt, or perhaps resolve—in his eyes. "As long as we must, Ser Arthur. The boy is not yet ready to face the world. When the time comes, we will reveal him. But until then, we must be patient."
Arthur nodded, though he knew that patience was a luxury they could not afford for much longer. The world was changing, and the winds of Westeros carried whispers of unrest. The Lannisters sat on the Iron Throne, but the realm was far from stable. If Aegon were to reclaim his birthright, it would require more than secrecy—it would require strength, alliances, and the will to act.
"I will continue to train the boy," Arthur said, his tone resolute. "He will be ready, Your Grace. When the time comes, he will be ready."
Doran gave a small nod of approval. "Good. We will need him to be strong. Stronger than any of us."
Arthur watched as Doran turned and walked back into the palace, his mind already calculating the next steps in the game they were playing. It was a dangerous game, one that could cost them everything. But Arthur had made his choice long ago. He would stand by Aegon, no matter the cost.
As the night deepened, Arthur remained on the balcony, his gaze fixed on the stars above. The boy was growing, and soon, the world would know his name. But until that day came, Arthur would protect him—just as he had promised.