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Arthur knew that few would have predicted this career path for him. 

Rhaenys was the last child to be picked up today with her mother running quite late, but Arthur didn’t hold it against the girl’s parent. From what Rhaenys had been chattering on about, her mother was a single parent who worked long hours to help take care of her children. Arthur wasn’t entirely certain what happened to Rhaenys’ father, but it was none of his business. 

Besides, Rhaenys was a delight to chat with, so he didn’t mind staying at work a little late. 

As of now, the girl was chattering on about her new kitten. A little black one she had named Balerion, as he nodded along, expression showing his interest. After all, it was important for kids to feel important, plus, well, Arthur had always been a cat person. 

A knock on the door interrupted and had him glancing up to see a woman who could only be Rhaenys’ mother standing there. 

Oh no. She was hot. 

And he was literally covered in paint. He could feel some crusted in his hair and a streak across his chin and he didn’t even want to look down at his clothes. Of all the days he had let the kids use the finger paints, it had to be the one where the hot mom came to pick up her adorable daughter. Because of course it did. 

“Mrs. Martell, I presume? Rhaenys has had nothing but good things to say about you. And, ah, I’d offer to shake your hand, but my hands are rather messy, given that the kids played with paints this afternoon.” Arthur offered with a sheepish shrug. 

Arthur had to admit, when he imagined a man gaining Ashara’s attention, he never would have guessed that it’d be a Northerner. And the Quiet Wolf, at that. He would have thought she’d be more attracted to the man’s far more outspoken older brother, but then, Ashara did love to surprise him. And really, he was glad she was being courted by the younger Stark rather than the elder. He’d heard rumors about how flirtatious the Wild Wolf was, not to mention the fact he was already betrothed, and would really rather not have to beat someone up for his sister’s honor. She’d be irritated at him for doing it and he’d probably get in trouble. So really, Eddard Stark, quiet, polite, and by all accounts, kind, was far preferable.

Still, that hardly meant he’d allow her the freedom to court the man as she wished without first coming to know the man himself. It’s why he made certain to interrupt their little stroll, personally. 

“Ashara! I see you’re hoarding our guest all to yourself.” Arthur tsked, sidling up beside the Northerner, “And walking alone with an unmarried man? What would our dear septa say?” Oh, the glare Ashara was giving him. Priceless. Interrupting whatever she was about to say, he hooked an arm around Eddard’s shoulders, pulling him away from her. “I’m sure my sister has been playing a fine hostess since your arrival, my Lord, but I can’t imagine she’s shown you the training yard yet. Come along.” Leaving the other man no option besides following him, Arthur lead him along, away from Ashara. 

He was a knight and a warrior, well known for his maturity and stoicism despite his young age, but before he was any of that, first and foremost, he was a brother. So, when he glanced over his shoulder to stick his tongue out at Ashara, it wasn’t all too out of character. And oh, if looks could kill he’d have dropped dead on the spot.

Arthur hated that Viserys was Aerys’ son. Moreso than Rhaegar ever was. Rhaegar was far more Rhaella’s son than the Mad King’s. Yet, perhaps Viserys’ own brand of madness and cruelty couldn’t be entirely blamed on genetics. He had a tough life, losing his mother, and being forced to run to survive with only his infant sister and a still badly injured Dornishman. Yet, they had managed, but the life had scarred the young Targaryen, Arthur could see that much. 

But alas, he was truly just making excuses for the boy. And there was no excuse for this mad idea to marry his sister to a bloodthirsty horselord who wouldn’t treat her with care, let alone any sort of respect that she deserved not just as a Princess, but as a human being. He had tried to reason with the boy, gently at first, then more firmly, until finally Viserys warned him that he would ‘anger the dragon’ if he continued. Torn between his own ideals and falling in line behind his would-be King, he fell back into what he had always done, and allowed the King his wishes without objection.

That was a mistake. The Khal was exactly what Arthur expected of him, and showed no signs of improving. So, Arthur remedied to change his ways. While he would not directly defy Viserys, he wouldn’t silently sit back as he always did with Aerys. He’d work from the shadows. Oberyn Martell may be the Dornishman known for his poisons, but Arthur was a fast learned.

And knowing, at least vaguely, how khalasars worked, he knew that when the man did die, it would offer no security to Daenerys nor the army to Viserys. Which was fine with Arthur. He could protect the young Princess and there were other armies. There were sellswords, unsullied, or, Arthur’s own preference, Dorne. While he had no doubt Dorne’s loyalty would come with a marriage, as it always had, he knew that any marriage there would be a far happier one for Daenerys or Viserys than this sham of a Dothraki one.

Still, he at least wanted to clear the idea with Daenerys. After all, it was her husband that he would be killing, not that he was entirely certain about letting her in on that plan. After all, there were poisons that worked secretly, undetectable by trained maesters, let alone any of the Dothraki healers. She didn’t need any sort of guilt over her husband’s death.

Elia lived through the birth, as he knew she would. And she and Rhaegar had a lovely new daughter, Rhaenys. Regrettably, that would never be enough for these vultures in high lord’s clothes. Not only did Rhaegar need a son to inherit, but ideally, he’d have an heir and a spare.

Bah, as if Rhaenys couldn’t take the Iron Throne and rule with far more finesse than the man already sitting there. 

Yes, she was a babe in her mother’s arms, but yes, Arthur could already tell that she would be as much of a powerhouse as her mother, if given the right opportunities. 

But really, he didn’t want to speak of the Westerosi way of needing a male inheritor. Moreso, he wanted to talk about the babe herself. Because truly, if she were to inherit, Arthur wasn’t certain if his conscience would allow it to happen. 

Most obvious were her eyes. The only part of her that belonged to Rhaegar. After all, they were purple. The rest of her was all Dornish, all Elia. The only issue was that those weren’t Targaryen lavender eyes that had stared up at him when he looked upon the girl.

They were Dayne violet. 

The rumors ran rampant about Targaryens these days. Daenerys Targaryen birthed three dragons and intended to ride them to Westeros to take back the throne. Viserys Targaryen died, as mad as his father. Aemiella Targaryen was shaping up to be Visenya the Warrior Queen come again. Aegon Targaryen was alive, smuggled out of Dorne and plotting his family’s return to power. Arthur didn’t know what to believe.

The obvious first. Aegon Targaryen was dead, and the rumored Prince a pretender. If Arthur knew one thing about Elia Martell, it’s that she would have protected Rhaenys and Aegon both.  

Second, Viserys...he could believe it. The boy hadn’t shown much madness as a child, but pushed into exile at so young with only his sisters left alive? He could see how madness could come. 

Third, dragons, real life dragons, were almost too good to believe. Daenerys was just a babe the last he heard of her, so he couldn’t say the truth of this either way. 

Finally, Aemiella as good as Visenya, the Warrior Queen? Oh, he could believe it. She showed much promise, even as a young girl all those years ago. And if she had to protect her siblings, he could imagine a sword would be very handy in doing so.

Yet, the only way to validate the truth of any of these rumors was to do something he should have done long ago. Search out the last of the Targaryens. And, so he does. 

It’s Aemeilla he meets first, and gods, is that really her? Is that really the giggling young girl he’d known all those years ago? Is it not Rhaella? Is it not Rhaegar in female form? It was like seeing a ghost, yet he couldn’t deny his happiness at the fact that this ghost, at least, still lived.

Arthur wondered if he only got away with visits home because he was so close to Rhaegar, but he discarded the thought near instantly. As one of the few remaining Kingsguard alive, he had let Oswell and Gerold return home for a visit after the war was done. At the time, Arthur had declined the offer, wanting to stick by the new King’s side until things were more stable. 

Yet, after avoiding it for so long, Rhaegar had all but pushed him out the door, perhaps sensing his need to visit Starfall and insure his family had made it out of the war unscathed. Not to say he wasn’t grateful, but he couldn’t help his worries when more than half the Kingsguard had been replaced. He had no doubt the Old Bull would whip the new lads into shape, yet...

No. Rhaegar had told him not to think about the capital and to focus on his family. After all, he wouldn’t often get opportunities like this. Spending the time with his family had been great so far, and now Allyria was eagerly dragging him along to meet one of her friends, excited that they would both happen to be around at the same moment. 

Yet, before she could even introduce them, she got distracted by the arrival of her betrothed. Apparently, Starfall would be rather busy these next couple weeks. 

“It’s alright Lyria! Chose him over your beloved brother that you haven’t seen in forever. It’s fine!” he called jokingly to her retreating figure. Shaking his head, her turned his attention to her friend with an apologetic smile. “It is a pleasure to meet any of my sister’s friends, my Lady. I’m Ser Arthur Dayne. I’m afraid I didn’t get your name before my sister ran off...?”

Aegon Targaryen was alive. He had doubted it when he first heard, but meeting the boy...he saw so much of Rhaegar and Elia in him. Not simply in looks, but in personality and presence. Plus, with Jon Connington vouching for him...Arthur couldn’t imagine the man allowing anyone to sully the name of Rhaegar’s child by being a pretender. The man had loved Rhaegar nearly as much as Asthur himself, if not moreso. So it simply had to be true.

Which meant that Arthur would serve as Kingsguard to a Targaryen once again. 

It didn’t take him long to acquaint himself to Aegon’s camp and the more important members of his following. It seemed that Jon Connington had done a good job raising him so far. He seemed to have a rational, smart head on his shoulder. Of course, some would argue that while Jon had taken on the role of Aegon’s pseudo-father, that this Septa he’d heard whispers about was therefore his pseudo-mother. 

He didn’t search the woman out, but he was glad to have found her. At least, he assumed the woman in septa’s robes was Septa Lemore. Clearing his throat to gain her attention, he greeted her with, “Ah, you must be his Grace’s Septa. He has mentioned you...”

The words died on his lips as the woman turned around. The only thing he truly had to see were those haunting violet eyes of hers, so like his own that he stumbled a step back. Yet, once he noted those, it didn’t take him long to see the full picture, the dark hair, the sun-kissed Dornish skin, the beautiful face, the woman who was most certainly not a Septa hidden within one’s robes. 

“Ashara?”