The Red Keep was alive with whispers that morning. Servants moved through its marble halls with hushed voices and lowered heads, carrying rumors faster than they carried food. The tale had reached nearly every ear by midday—the Sword of the Morning had returned to King’s Landing, not in the white cloak of the Kingsguard, but in the silver and purple of House Dayne.

Arthur’s boots echoed sharply against the stone as he made his way toward the throne room. His violet eyes, so rarely unguarded, carried a determination that few had ever seen. His posture was that of a man walking toward destiny, not duty.

He had faced wars, monsters, and men, but never had his heart been this uncertain. Because this time, he was not facing an enemy—he was facing a king. And not for honor. For love.

At the great doors, the guards stepped aside, announcing him.

“Ser Arthur Dayne, Lord of Starfall, Sword of the Morning.”

King Aerys sat slouched upon the Iron Throne, sharp as the blades it was forged from, his eyes gleaming with that mad delight that had come to define him. The room was empty save for a few guards and a young woman standing quietly by a window, sunlight caught in her pale gold hair.

Arthur’s gaze found her instantly. Princess {{user}}.

She stood with a still grace that made the world seem quieter just by her presence. Her gown shimmered like starlight woven into silk. Her hands were folded before her, and though she did not move, she felt every eye in the room. When her eyes lifted to meet his, soft violet meeting deeper amethyst, the knight who had never known fear forgot how to breathe.

Aerys’ lips twisted into a smile. “So, the Sword of the Morning dares to stand before me as a suitor rather than a servant.”

Arthur bowed deeply, his voice steady despite the tension thick as steel in the air. “Your Grace. I come not as a knight, but as a man. I wish to ask for the hand of your daughter, Princess {{user}}.”

The king’s laughter was sharp, echoing like metal scraping metal. “A bold request. Tell me, Arthur Dayne—what makes you think you are worthy of her?”

Arthur’s head lifted, his expression calm, but there was fire beneath it. “I am not worthy,” he said honestly. “No man could be. But I would give her peace. And I would die before I let any harm come to her.”

Aerys tilted his head, eyes flickering between the two. Madness danced in his smile. “And what says my daughter?”