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CHAPTER FOURTEEN. ━━━━━━━━━ When love is in excess, it brings a man no honour, nor worthiness.
EURIPIDES ━━━━━━━━━
IT IS A STORY FROM A SONG — a fair maid stolen in the dead of night, and her brothers and betrothed riding to her rescue. They will tear a kingdom apart, pull a king from his throne and crown another in his place, all in the name of the fair, stolen maid.
This is what they do not write of in songs — Lyanna Stark is no stolen maid. Lyanna Stark is not a weakling, the pretty face about to bring the seven kingdoms crashing down, about to stain the realm in Targaryen, Lannister red. Lyanna is a dreamer before she is anything else. She does not dream of jewels or of dresses, of ponies or handsome knights. She dreams of a red castle, a distant Prince, but most of all she dreams of freedom.
Away from Winterfell, she has dreamed on more than one occasion, away from the gray waste and the summer snow and away from it all.
Arthur tells her that much.
Astoria stands on the balcony of her chambers as the cool sea breeze rustles her skirts, bells clanging in the distance.
"He told her pretty lies, Prince Rhaegar," Arthur begins, "of prophecies and dreams and visions, of grand futures, of love that might conquer all obstacles. He told her lies and he stole her, a girl-child promised to another, he took what he wished and damned us all. He left her there with no maester to tend to her and no family. Are we, the Kingsguard, there to keep her safe or to keep her locked away, to stop her from escaping?"
Tears are rolling down his cheeks as she takes his hand and squeezes it gently, wishing she could take his burdens, his sorrow, and hold them for him.
"You are sworn to serve your prince. Even if you refused stealing her away, he would have simply ordered one of your brother's to do so," she says, voice firm. "And you would've lost your head."
She feels him slip up behind her, and so it's no surprise when his arms come around her waist. He doesn't say anything, just lets them linger in silence to watch the sun rise.
The world hums around them and Arthur thinks, an eternity, an eternity with Astoria.
She looks so beautiful in the moonlight, but it isn't only the way she looks, it is what was inside her, everything from her intelligence and courage to her wit, and the special smile she gives only to him. He would slay a dragon, if there were such a thing, just to see that smile. Arthur knows that he will never want anyone else for as long as he lives. He would rather spend the rest of his life alone than with someone else. Fatalism comes in many shades. For Arthur Dayne that shade is love.
