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CHAPTER TEN. ━━━━━━━━━ We all wear masks and the time comes when we cannot remove them without removing our own skin.
ANDR BERTHIAUME ━━━━━━━━━
ONCE UPON A TIME, a white knight fell for a lady in red and a crownprince fell for a wolf.
Arthur's oath is so deeply embedded in the crevices of his bones that he must willingly bid Rhaegar's orders without questioning them. He must not show his anger when their destination is not Summerhall as expected.
He knows that when the news trickle into King's Landing about the abduction of Lyanna Stark, everyone will believe it a mistake. Some kind of elaborate joke made in poor taste. What Rhaegar had done at Harrenhal had been appalling, crowning the girl over his pregnant wife, but kidnapping is another kettle of fish. And whilst it is no kidnapping in any sense — Lady Lyanna's wolfish grin at the sight of them, that Arthur would never forget — it will be the picture being painted.
Sometimes it had concerned Arthur, the depth of Rhaegar's beliefs, his calm surety that the Long Night would come, the way he wouldn't listen when Arthur delicately tried to tell him that trusting prophecies was a perilous road to go down. And perhaps magic was once a mighty force in the world, but no longer. What little remains is no more than the wisp of smoke that lingers in the air after a great fire has burned out, and even that is fading. Valyria was the last ember, and Valyria is gone. The dragons are no more, the giants are dead, the children of the forest forgotten with all their lore.
Even so, in his wildest dreams he wouldn't have expected this. Yet even with the evidence in front of him, his mind has trouble acknowledging it. Not only the taking of the Stark girl, but that they would come to Dorne. As though trusting that Arthur would simply accept such a thing and shame his homeland in the process.
The depth of his own utter stupidity is slow to come to him, but when it does, it's dizzying. Had he not known Rhaegar's obsession with the prophecy? How could he not have foreseen all this?
His heart has been as misguided as ever, embracing Rhaegar's promises and greatness, believing that he is a good man, the very best. The talk of prophecy was not as easily accepted as the prince who chanted them, but it is the prince who matters, and only the prince. The prince who would be king.
Love is blind, they say, and for more than a decade he has loved Rhaegar as a brother. Yet if he'd had a lick of sense, he'd not have been so obtuse. Every child knows that the Targaryens have always danced too close to madness. What kind of Kingsguard is he? What kind of knight?
