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â Itâs OVER. He um   Rhaegar and I. Weâre separating. Weâre... getting a divorce. â

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@themorningswordâ liked for a starter
â Itâs OVER. He um   Rhaegar and I. Weâre separating. Weâre... getting a divorce. â

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 @themorningsword â continued from x.
Wonder is all she feels ever since they arrived in Westeros; ever since she spotted the shores of Dorne from the ship that had carried them over the Narrow Sea. Home, she thought. Weâre finally home. The young princess had been taken over by a wave of emotion and excitementâ she wished to see everything; learn everythingâ the land; the people; everything the brave knight might have missed in his stories. The same sense of wonder seems to have taken over him, as well. â An old man who has climbed these steps several hundred times, I assume. â Rhaenys points out with a grin of her own.
His excitement is contagious; his eagerness to show her his home is equalled by hers to absorb as much information as she can in this small period of time. Despite the long and steep incline, Rhaenys didnât quite imagine they would be so high once at the top. She rushes outside to the balcony, her eyes wide and Ser Arthur following after herâ always at her side. The Torrentine; the Summer Sea; all of Starfall at her feet. The view is breathtaking and she catches herself giggling giddily upon taking the scenery in. Itâs beautiful, she thinks, her eyes moving from one place he points to the next. So beautiful. Could he have returned here when it was all over? Barristan the Bold was pardoned; the Sword of the Morning might have been, too. Starfall instead of exile.
     Elia and I... The mention of her motherâs name pulls her out of her deep thoughts; her head turning in his direction and she just listensâ like she always does when the knight mentions her parents, especially her mother. The corners of her mouth pull upwards in a soft smile seeing the expression on the his face. Nostalgia, regret, loveâ and just like that it is gone and he is his composed self once again. â No, no. Itâs so beautiful. Thank you. â For everything. â Could we stay a little longer? â She asks fearing he might suggest they go back; she wants to take some time; to commit the view into memory. From now on, sheâll be swept away by all that she has been forced to live without while in hiding. In Sunspear, her uncles are waiting; a family sheâs only known through letters and this might be the last truly private moment sheâll get alone with the knight before sheâs delivered to them. Perhaps, he will return home, as well, and be with his own familyâ
Looking out toward the sea, the princess grips the railing as if she could feel her motherâs imprint on it from all those years ago. â My mother was here; saw what Iâm seeing now. This is the closest Iâve been to her. â She admits with tears building in her eyes. â I used to wonder why you didnât share as much about her as you did about my father. At first, I thought it was because you knew him betterâ â His oldest, most trusted friend. â Then, I thought it was because she reminded you of your sisterâ but the older I got, the more I saw. â Thereâs a soft smile on her lips, her hands clasped in front of her as she turns her gaze on him. She doesnât aim to embarass or judge; ridicule or shame. How could she? Thereâs nothing but softness and sympathy in her tone. â I can see the pain in your eyes when you do speak of her, I can see howâ how much it hurts you. I see how at some point during your story the pain fades away intoâ reverence; adoration. So much more than that of a simple friend'sâ âÂ
The finest knight I ever saw was Ser Arthur Dayne, who fought with a blade called Dawn, forged from the heart of a fallen star. They called him the Sword of the Morning, and he would have killed me but for Howland Reed.
Happy birthday Anne @themorningsword
@themorningsword
At first Brienne had a hard time believing her luck, but now that her fatherâs honored guest had abandoned Evenfall after breakfast it became a bit more plausible. She couldnât let Ser Arthur Dayne slip away so easily. Sheâd not had the chance to talk to him apart from a few mumbled courtesies. For the chance to have a conversation with the Sword of the Morning, sheâd force herself to overcome her natural shyness.Â
So it happened that Brienne shirked her morning lessons and snuck out of Evenfall Hall in trousers, slipping into the training yard and elbowing her way into the line of excitedly whispering boys. Ser Arthur Dayne didnât have a squire, did he? No doubt they all hoped to be chosen. It wasnât fair, Brienne thought bitterly. She was better than any of them. That was what made her step forward when Ser Goodwin called for the first sparring pair of the day. If Septa Roelle knew what she was doing sheâd call Brienne a stupid girl, but she thought she saw a gleam of good humor in her master-at-armsâ eye.Â
Perhaps she had shown off, just a little. There hadnât been any move sheâd made that wasnât necessary, but the conservative fighting style sheâd been taught had mostly been forgotten. Instead sheâd defeated every boy sheâd faced as quickly as possible. What was she trying to prove? Now that she was done Brienne began to feel like she was a stupid girl after all. What had she accomplished but humiliated Ser Goodwinâs other pupils? It may be instead of being impressed Ser Arthur Dayne would dismiss Tarthâs future knights as weak. She couldnât even look at him. Holding her helmet, Brienne slunk off to put away her sword and armor.Â
h o m e .
H O M E .
Gods, that was such a foreign concept to her. Had she ever had one? Save for the house with the red door of her childhood, sheâd never considered that she might ever know what it feels like to be safe and secure somewhere she cares for. Somewhere with emotional attachment and sentimentality.
Yet as boot heels sink into the shores before the keep, itâs all she can do not to fall to her knees out of sheer emotion. Instead she lowers down to one knee, fingertips lacing through the sand. For so long, itâs been sand and desserts and exotic lands â before her, she sees greenery and dragons carved into stone. The place of her birth.
Emotion ill concealed on Targaryen features, her body rises then to make her way up the curving steps, even as her three children soar above her. She does not expect occupation â and by all accounts, it should not be â yet amethyst hues fall on the male waiting at the beginnings of the steps, a brow raising even as swords are drawn all around her.
âWho are you?â // @themorningsword

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today just in:Â in this house we love & respect & fiercely admire @fllnstar, @theeldestsun, and @themorningsword
@themorningsword continue from here
   She just hold onto her late fatherâs best friend. She knew exactly what today is. Dorne has been quite all day, not so busy and not many laughter today. Its a very sad day. Particularly to her and her maternal family, House Martell, and to Arthur Dayne.Â
  She felt Arthur pulled himself away and Rhaenys glanced up to stare at him in his violet eyes. She nodded slowly. âMy motherâs nameday.â Rhaenys whispered. âI miss her everyday.â
themorningsword
âHold up lad.â he warned the recently awake man âYour wounds havenât completely heal.--- You donât wan them to open again, would ya?.â he left a cup with clean drinkable water and some stew. âYou need to drink and eat to regainâ strengh -- Do it slowly.â