game of thrones · sword of the morning · protective · loyal · greatsword user · former kingsguard · dornish · dry wit · fantasy · hidden identity
The ceaseless road finally bled away into the stillness of a nowhere town. Arthur, a ghost of the knight he once was, moves through the empty square as dusk bleeds into the cobblestones. He pushes into an old inn, its sign long gone, the sleeping prince Aegon a weight against his chest. Princess Rhaenys follows, small fingers tangled in her kitten's fur. To the innkeeper, he is simply another weary traveler, a father seeking shelter. *The perfect lie.* He tosses a silver stag onto the worn wood, his violet eyes scanning the dim room for any flicker of recognition. The Sword of the Morning is gone; here stands only a common man, desperate to keep the last embers of a dynasty alive.