Daily life

Time flew, and before he knew it, it was the year 281 of Aegon’s Reckoning.

In the Red Keep's training yard, two figures, one large and one small, moved across the sand, their shadows stretched long by the morning sun. The sharp clack of wooden swords rang out in a steady rhythm.

With a deft sidestep, Ser Barristan Selmy neatly parried an incoming slash, a flicker of admiration passing almost unnoticed through his eyes. Before him stood Viserys Targaryen, just six and a half years old and barely reaching his shoulder, yet his attacks possessed a ferocity and precision far beyond his age. After more than a year of relentless training, that small body had begun to display strength that could not be underestimated.

"Stop." Barristan stepped back and lowered his wooden sword. "That will be all for today, Prince Viserys. You have improved rapidly, far beyond my expectations." Viserys nodded, panting, sweat dripping from the tips of his silver hair. He removed his training armor, his muscles aching, but his heart was full of satisfaction.

Over the past year and more, he had not only made tremendous progress in swordsmanship but also grown increasingly adept at controlling his Greenseer abilities. The seven Dragon Eggs he had obtained earlier remained safely hidden beneath his bed. Through his continued probing, he could sense the energy within them stirring slowly beneath their hard shells, like dormant volcanoes.

"His Grace has issued the formal order," Barristan remarked conversationally as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. "A grand tourney will be held at Harrenhal in the latter half of this year. I will be competing as well. What do you think, Your Highness?"

Viserys's heart gave a sudden jolt. The tourney at Harrenhal-this was a pivotal moment. He knew that this grand gathering would be the spark that set everything ablaze. Here, Rhaegar Targaryen would crown Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty, setting off a chain of tragedies.

"Will knights from all over the realm be going?" Viserys did his best to sound like a curious child.

"Yes, Your Highness." Barristan's gaze grew firm. "Noble and landed knights seeking renown, and landless knights longing for opportunity and recognition... it will be the greatest gathering in years."

Just then, a patter of quick footsteps broke the training yard's quiet. A tiny figure came stumbling toward them, followed by an anxious-looking maid.

"Viserys!" called Rhaenys Targaryen, a little over two years old, in her sweet, childish voice.

The sight of Rhaenys always gave Viserys pause. This Rhaenys was not the same as the one in the original story. She was not the biological child of Rhaegar and Princess Elia Martell.

She was a daughter Rhaegar had adopted two years earlier, the child of a close friend he had met while traveling through Essos. Her father and mother had both died in an accident, leaving Rhaegar to adopt her. Elia had raised no objections; instead, she had raised the girl as her own.

She had inherited her birth mother's black hair, but she also had violet eyes. Her father had been a descendant of one of the old dragonlord families of Valyria and had always lived within the Black Wall of Volantis. When Viserys had first arrived in this world, Rhaenys had only just turned one.

Rhaenys always called Viserys her big brother, which was wrong in terms of their family relationship. Surprisingly, however, neither Rhaegar nor Elia corrected her when they heard it. Instead, they seemed pleased.

Perhaps they had long since begun to regard the two children, so close in age, as potential future partners.

"Rhaenys, what are you doing here?" Viserys asked gently, brushing the crumbs from her cheek.

"I want to play with you, big brother," Rhaenys replied, clutching the hem of his clothes.

Looking at the innocent little girl in his arms, Viserys felt a surge of conflicting emotions. He knew the fate that awaited her: she would be brutally murdered by Amory Lorch when King's Landing fell. Another vicious dog of the Westerlands, every bit as cruel as Gregor Clegane, the Mountain.

Perhaps he ought to change her fate. After all, taking one more person along would hardly be a burden, and it would mean another dragonrider in the future. He just did not know whether the Mad King would let her leave with him when the time came. The Mad King seemed to have kept them in King's Landing to force Dorne to send reinforcements to defend the city.

A few days later, news arrived that delighted Viserys: Lady Ashara Dayne had reached King's Landing.

This noble lady of Starfall, younger sister to the legendary Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, was renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms for her astonishing beauty and distinctive air of melancholy. She was hailed as the "pearl of the Dornish Marches." Ostensibly, she had come to visit her brother and pay her respects to Princess Elia Martell of Dorne.

Viserys still remembered meeting her for the first time in the Red Keep's gardens.

He had been playing with Rhaenys, who was chasing a butterfly through the flowers. To keep her from falling, he had to watch her constantly, reaching out now and then to steady her.

"What a heartwarming sight." A cool, lovely voice sounded behind him.

Viserys turned and saw a young woman in a pale blue gown standing beside the rosebushes. She had pale violet eyes and black hair that fell to her waist. Her beauty was enough to put the roses blooming beside her to shame. He recognized her at once: Ashara Dayne.

"Miss Dayne." Viserys inclined his head, reaching out at the same time to catch Rhaenys as she nearly tripped. Back then, she had only just begun clinging to him.

Ashara approached and curtsied gracefully. "Prince Viserys. Princess Rhaenys." Her gaze fell on Rhaenys, who was clutching Viserys's clothes, and a trace of tenderness appeared in her eyes. "You seem very good at looking after others, Your Highness."

"It is only what I should do," Viserys replied. He could sense the faint melancholy that always seemed to hang over Ashara.

After that chance encounter, Viserys met Ashara several more times in the Red Keep. Sometimes it was in the gardens, and he discovered that the young woman was very fond of flowers. Sometimes it was in a corridor, where she would exchange a few polite words with him.

Their most memorable conversation took place one afternoon.

Viserys was practicing alone in the training yard when he suddenly sensed someone watching him. Turning, he saw Ashara standing beneath the pillars of a distant colonnade, watching him with a thoughtful gaze.

"Have I disturbed you, Your Highness?" Ashara approached when she saw that Viserys had noticed her.

"Not at all, Lady Dayne." Viserys lowered his wooden sword. "Are you interested in swordsmanship?"

A faint smile touched Ashara's lips as she answered. "I have two elder brothers, remember? Arthur told me that a true knight must not only be skilled at arms, but also understand what he fights for. After hearing so much about it, I naturally formed a few thoughts of my own."

Viserys watched her, inviting her to continue. He realized that this might be a chance to deepen their relationship.

"Then what do you believe a knight should fight for?"

She answered without hesitation. "For honor, not glory. A knight's honor."

In the original story he knew, this young woman had ultimately taken her own life out of heartbreak. Yet the person standing before him now possessed profound insight and firm convictions.

"I heard about the tourney at Harrenhal," Ashara said, abruptly changing the subject. "Will you be competing?"

Viserys shook his head. "I am still too young, but my brother Rhaegar will compete. I will go to watch."

"Ah, a handsome and valiant prince. Everyone hopes he will win." Ashara spoke softly. "Sometimes I wonder what these grand tourneys are truly for. Men risk their lives in the lists for glory and the favor of ladies, yet so often forget what it meant to become a knight in the first place."

Her words sounded almost like a prophecy, sending a tremor through Viserys's heart. In the years ahead, more and more knights in Westeros would sully the honor of knighthood itself, their deeds utterly at odds with the vows they had sworn.

It made Viserys all the more certain that Ashara Dayne was far more than she appeared. After all, the original story was still unfinished, and her death had never been confirmed. Who knew whether she had truly died or merely faked her death to disappear into hiding?