A collaboration with [@kingkonrad].
[h3][u][b]Rhaenyra and Baela Targaryen/ Outskirts of King’s Landing/ Northern Crownlanders[/b][/u][/h3]

The host of Northern Crownlanders had made great time. The rain never intensified, rather choosing to stay as a light misting to drizzle. It did little, if anything at all to dampen the spirits of the small host of troops that had made their way South by Southwest. The rain was a good thing, even though the year grew late, it would help grow perhaps one or two more harvests before winter would come in full force. The massive red walls of King’s Landing loomed only a few miles ahead at most, raising the spirits of all that had gathered below the banners of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen II and her sister, Princess Baela Targaryen II.

Her host had grown, with the addition of men, supplies, and wagons from House’s Hayford, Rosby, and Stokeworth. The royal host had grown from a mere fifteen hundred to almost thirty-five hundred. The Lords of House’s Hayford and Rosby had marched out with Princess Rhaenyra, while House Stokeworth, sent their eldest son, Ser Bronn Stokeworth III. They were still small, no doubt, in comparison to the greater hosts that had walked the lands in times long ago, or even today in neighboring regions, but the added strength was greatly appreciated. Princess Rhaenyra and Baela circled above the host upon their dragons, watching the lands about them for any signs of trouble.
 
Down below, Ser Trevan Waters saw to the breakdown of the Princesses encampment. He had seen his fortunes change from being a lowly sergeant upon the muddy battlefields, to being a landed knight in the service of a princess. Of two princesses to be correct. Either way, this was something entirely unknown to him. Ser Trevan rolled the last of the tent poles up into its bag, when he was startled by a loud thud and rushing of air. He stumbled backwards over the tent poles, falling promptly onto his back. Laughter rang out from those who were working to tear down the camp, much to Ser Trevan’s embarrassment. He shook his head, brushing himself off as he rose up, only to find himself staring face to face with Princess Rhaenyra’s dragon, Visaxes.
 
He quickly knelt deeply before her, his head bowed low in respect. “Your grace… I… I am sorry, you startled me. I apologize for falling over.” He spoke in an apologetic tone, awaiting his liege lady’s judgement. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Ser Trevan. Now finish up with the camp tear down. You are to ride with us to the city. We will be needing to get to King’s Landing before the day is out. Ser Axle, Lord Crabb, take care of the camp, we ride out now.” Princess Rhaenyra spoke out, before turning upon her dragon, taking flight, and soaring into the sky.
 
Ser Trevan bowed quickly, before hurrying to gather up his sword and shield, and then mounting up with the gathering party of knights. The retinue of some two hundred knights rode out quickly, having to gallop with all due haste to keep up with their two princesses that flew high above, the two women on their dragons flying to be firmly within sight of King’s Landing, and they themselves, able to look at the tiny people from far below as they moved below in the city.  Ser Trevan held the Targaryen banner tightly into his hip, letting the red dragon upon a black field flap majestically as they raced towards the capital. He looked above, and let out a laugh, as it would seem the two princesses did a barrel roll upon their dragons, before descending towards the Northern Gates of King's Landing.

Rhaenyra smiled to her sister, waving happily at her, before turning her attention towards to King's Landing. It appeared that there was a small gathering at the Northern Gate, though who it was she could not make out from where she was flying. At the beckoning of Baela, Rhaenyra flew downward at a breakneck pace, before pulling up tightly on Visaxes reigns, and leveling out before the Northern Gate. She settled herself upon her saddle, motioning to Baela that she intended to land. With a rush of air and the deafening sound of flapping wings, the two dragons and their riders put down before the gates of King's Landing, looking at the looming walls and its strong gates, awaiting both who would meet them, and their retinue that was in fast pursuit.

Ser Trevan and the Princesses retinue soon pulled up behind the dragons, reigning their horses to a halt, both the men and mounts sweating from the short breakneck dash to the finish line. He looked through his helmet, watching the two sisters removing their helmets and shaking out their hair to free it of its former metal confines. They sure did strike an almost mythical sight to Ser Trevan. He held their banner proudly before him, letting the fabric ripple slowly in the gentle breeze of the day's afternoon calm. 

Willas looked up at the sight of the two dragons, watching them as they flew about overhead, before losing sight of both as they descended downwards, hidden from view by the city's walls and buildings to the North. It was a sight to behold, it was an incredible, wondrous sight. From the distant sight to here, it was something wonderful to take in. 

Meanwhile, back down at the Northern gate, and Ser Maxwell had already ridden out, the huge clambering metal structure opening up, as he went through, his horse adorned with a white and green quilt, with roses emblazoned onto it. Such a decoration seemed fitting for the Tyrell retinue, it was a little too much, but it sent the point home. It wasn't sure arrogance like the Westermen had, or the cold pragmatism of the North. It was the Rose, it was a symbol that did not offend, like a Lion, a Boar, or a Wolf could. It was a plant. Yet against that backdrop, was a pair of dragons that Ser Davos Maxwell was looking at, and it was a sight to behold. Stopping his horse, he dismounted, looking on at the two Princesses, in scale. They were ready for a war, it would have appeared, a smile breaking out on the Knight's face. His slight stubble bristled a little against his neck brace on his plate, the Knight of the Reach wearing a plate chest plate, with mail on his arms and legs, a mixture of two, it seemed.
"It is good to see you both, my Ladies." Maxwell said, as he got on his knee, the noise of metal touching the gravelly path, as he bowed down.

Rhaenyra was the first to dismount from her dragon. She slid down of the side of Visaxes neck, landing with a small thud as her feet hit the ground. She set her helmet upon one of the stirrups of her saddle, before turning to help her sister Baela down from Jadefyre. Helping one another fix their tussled hair, they both turned their attention to the approaching Reachman, Ser Maxwell. Together, Rhaenyra and Baela walked forward, followed by a small handful of their trusted knights, to meet with their greeter. His horse and armor were finely garbed, his armor was very ornate and a sight to behold, especially compared to the armor that her knights and lords wore. Rhaenyra smiled to her sister, before walking further forward to look at Ser Maxwell as he approached and dismounted from his horse. 

His voice was proud and strong, full of gallantry and practiced respect. Baela was the first to answer, before Rhaenyra could. "And it is good to see you as well, good Ser. Thank you for riding out to greet us." She herself walking forward to offer out her hand to help Ser Davos Maxwell up back to his feet. Rhaenyra shook her head, laughing softly at her sister's brash and albeit, amusing actions. "What is your name, Ser Knight? You know us, but, what should we call you?" Rhaenyra spoke softly, awaiting Ser Maxwell's response.

Looking up again, he stood back up, taking Baela's hand, a little cold but still maintaining his pride, the Reachman stood up to stand before both Princess Baela and Rhaenyra, before speaking. 

"I am Ser Davos Maxwell, of Cider Hall, Princess. Deputy to the Commander of the Goldcloaks of King's Landing. It is quite a sight to see, Princess Rhaenyra." He said, clearing his throat, the slight burble in the background of the Princesses' dragons a little disturbing, but something he didn't let get to his head. The red and green dragons respectively were fire-breathing, flying, Targaryen carrying beasts, and looked in equal parts willing to torch something that they did not like, or rather, their riders did not. A level of control was in the air, Maxwell felt, as he looked over at the two, standing a little taller than both, but no less, still a little intimidated by their presence, as he shifted things forward onto the topic of where a real royal arrival should head to; not in front of the gates of King's Landing, but rather inside the very city itself.

"Ser Willas Tyrell is awaiting you at the Dragon Pit, Princesses. I do not wish to stop our conversation so quickly, but I expect it was himself you were looking to meet. Inside these walls, we've got a significant host, and we'll let yours join to ours." Ser Maxwell added, looking back at the gate, and then across at the distant movement of men down the gravel track, beyond the huge masses that were the two dragons on the path. The Crownlanders were coming in force for these two, Maxwell could only guess it had something to do with the fact that while Crakehall had his arrogance, the Targaryen’s still had dragons. And in a fight between that, any Lord knew that dragon fire was far more horrid than a Westerman's arrogance.

Princess Rhaenyra nodded at Ser Maxwell, looking at the rising city that her family had been in centuries past, before turning her attention back to the Knight of the Reach who stood before her. She looked him over, seeing if she could make anything out about him. He was taller than she was, and his armor was very finely crafted. He no doubt was a well to do knight, perhaps a gift from the Tyrells, or a testament to his own wealth. She pulled her hair back, braiding into slowly as she spoke to Ser Maxwell. "Thank you for letting us know as where to find Ser Willas. I look forward to meeting him. But, I digress. First, allow me to say thank you, for your people's support and help in these trying times. I do not doubt that we all wish things could have been different, but, here we are." She smiled, finished with braiding her hair, so that it was no longer loosely moving about. 

"Ser Maxwell, of Cider Hall, you have the field to greet the rest of my retinue. I will see to it that Ser Willas knows of the splendid task you performed in greeting us." Rhaenyra bowed slightly before the knight, before turning to beckon Ser Trevan forward. The young knight motioned his horse forward, riding up to be next to the two Princesses and the Reachman. "My lady, what would you have of me?" He asked out hesitantly. He wore a kettle helm, allowing his face to be freely visible. "You will ride forth with half the men here to the keep, and begin preparations for our arrival. We ride for the Dragon Pit. Ser Willas awaits us there, and I do not wish to keep him waiting any longer." Rhaenyra turned back to face Ser Maxwell, before speaking to him quickly.

"If there is no longer anything else, I will excuse myself and my sister, we must take flight before our dragons decide to take a nap." She said with a smile, as a line of her knights rode past her, being led by Ser Trevan. "Ser Maxwell, an honor..." She spoke, awaiting for anything else he may have to say.

Maxwell looked on, looking across at Ser Trevan. He seemed young, fresh faced, and surprisingly enough, Maxwell could almost see it in his eyes. He was not a Knight of a long-time service, he was a Sergeant, that much he could just about tell. Yet perhaps he had done something, something to impress these two Princesses, and Ser Maxwell did not question it, as he gave a slight chuckle to her comment about dragons napping. He heard that in the cold nights, they emitted steam, so hot was their flesh.

"It is an honor to greet you both, Princesses. I shall greet the rest of your forces." He simply said, as he bowed once more, a simple gesture to the both of them, as he then stood back up, watching the Knights of the Crownlands slowly filter through, passing on the side through to the gate, where a number of Tyrell Retinues were already keeping the gates open. They knew exactly what to expect, albeit the fact that even Maxwell was a little surprised at just how many they had brought with them. It already seemed like a strong trickle of forces entering through the gate, and no doubt, the Tyrell Retinue of Lord Tumbleton's would need to work with them in order to secure the capital. Spates were breaking out, and across parts of the city, they still dared defy. It choked the grip of the Tyrells, but it was not something that would prevent Willas from allowing the two Targaryen’s into the city, and Maxwell knew that they far outnumbered the dissenters, should a revolt occur right now. As for what could happen if a greater revolt occurred, he did not know, as he looked on at the Knights riding in, before back at Ser Trevan, giving a simple nod to the Knight of the Crownlands.

"Ready to meet Ser Willas sister? I bet he has much to convey with us." Baela spoke aloud to Rhaenyra, flashing her a devilish smile. She pushed her sister's left shoulder, slightly setting Rhaenyra off balance, not enough to have her fall over, but enough to send her stumbling slightly to the right. "Aren't you just an amusing little thing, Baela? Are you ready to ride to the Dragon's Pit?" Rhaenyra picked up her pace, pushing her sister back before she dashed to hop up into her saddle, and then atop her dragon. She tied her helmet to the saddle horn, before looking down to Ser Maxwell. "I look forward to meeting you in the future. Take care, and look for a Lord Rykker, he leads the rest of my forces. Look for a pair of Golden Antlers on his shield and banner. Till next time." Rhaenyra turned in her saddle, before ushering Visaxes into the sky.

From Maxwell's perspective, it seemed poetic, the way the two interacted, as they headed back. It reminded him a lot of Lord Garland and his sister, Alerie. He had met the two a couple of times, through Willas, and remembered them being possibly the only two that teased each other as much as the two sisters did, as they mounted their fiery beasts, their helms covering their soft white hair. 

Before barely a minute had passed, they had taken flight, the sight itself a marvel as it seemed unlike a bird taking flight, it felt like the dragons had erupted from the earth, their wings beating hard, as the green followed the red into the heavens, Maxwell unable to hide the unashamed grin on his face, watching on. He looked across back to his horse again, and with a sharp and quick movement, mounted the quilted horse, visibly scared at the sight of the dragons. It was uneasy, it did not like this, and it had not galloped away perhaps only as a result of Maxwell being so close to it, almost shielding its view. He had a Rykker to find, the Duskendale Lord among the small force coming into the city.

-------------------------

Baela soon followed, Jadefyre flying after Visaxes, causing a large gusting of wind and sound, before it died down as both dragons set off towards the Dragon's Pit. Rhaenyra's hair flew in the wind, tightly held by the braid it was in, trailing behind her like a small icy white whip. The Princesses smiled at one another, waving to the forces below, before turning South, and driving their mounts into the city, flying overhead buildings and streets as they made their way to the ancestral nesting grounds of Targaryen dragons. 

The massive building loomed up before them. It stood atop Visenya's Hill, crowning it like a work of art. It had been rebuilt when Queen Danaerys had ascended the throne, its ancient ruins reworked and rebuilt into the beautiful and majestic structure that lay before the two sisters now. Rhaenyra felt her breath catch in her mouth. She had seen it before, but, never from above. It truly was a sight that astounded her, and her sister as well, from the sight on her face as the two hovered high above. They nodded at each other, flashing goofy grins at one another, before turning their attention back to the task at hand.

Rhaenyra sighed, taking a deep breath from the clean air from high above the city. The Dragon Pit looked marvelous, and would no doubt serve as a great home for both the Targaryen dragons. Together, the sisters descended downwards, flying in a lazy downward spiral that lead them both down before the massive gates that lead into the bowels of the Dragon Pit. Both sisters and their dragons landed softly, easing into a graceful glide to land on the cobblestones of King's Landing. Rhaenyra stretched in her saddle, looking about for the one that was called Ser Willas. 

The Knight dismounted, the Dragon Pit a sizable, huge structure, to say the least. It was a structure that had been in disrepair once, and even today, it was still perhaps not at its peak, as it may have been hundreds of years ago, but it was marvelous. Willas looked on, watching as the dragons landed in the cobblestones. It had been a wonder to watch them fly over, circling, flying, and the occasional noise that sounded like thunder of the flapping wings, it felt very, very powerful. For not one moment did Willas think that Garland was wrong in what he was doing. These women were wielding a power far beyond his own Poleaxe, far beyond any of his men. They were but two young women with beasts that could set fire to half this city and the people inside it, and whilst Willas noted that the green dragon, Jadefyre, was not as large as its larger red-colored sibling, the gravity of such a dragon felt impressive. Within the large and fire-lit structure of the pit, it felt like a cavern, the gates wide open and with a large number of Tyrell men by Willas's side. They had fanned out, guarding the gate, on a strict command that the Commander had issued. Willas was no fool- this was a resting place for a beast that flew and breathed fire, and if small folk got into here with enough number, they could murder these creatures outright. The Tyrell was inside with at least a dozen soldiers, some with their visors barely even lifted. The fire-lit sides revealed just the scale of this place, and the dragons within.

"Princesses...it is an honor to meet you." Willas said with his usual authorative and clear voice, as he bowed to them, before standing back up. If Maxwell was thought to have looked good, then Willas's dusted Kingsguarder armor, with the scrapings of thorns and Roses across its vambraces and shoulder plate, seemed to look a little more eloquent, a little more pronounced. His face was similar, perhaps weathered, with a taste of the Reach in its look, his clean shaven and shorter-haired appearance putting him across as a little more formal than his nephew was.

"Welcome to King's Landing. Seven Hells, your dragons made an entrance. I lost count of the faces that the small folk made." Willas giving a slight chuckle, as he approached the two, knowing it was a comment in jest. He didn't have the best sensitivities to it all, as he knew he had to make the point clear here, whilst he could.

"I am here for your protection, as are my men. There are 10,000 of us, Tyrell Retinues all. I assume you met Ser Maxwell, and he shall work with your Crownlander forces to help bolster our defenses. We are as of yet uncertain what the Crakehalls are doing, but it is not good, if they lay siege to us. Ser Kevan Crakehall is still in the Red Keep, and he has a retinue of his own, and while he shouldn't be a problem, I will personally make sure they stay away from your presence in any manner. I will assume you shall want a consistent guard around your two dragons, and this is something I am willing to provide." Willas said, getting down to his business quickly, as he looked over at Rhaenyra, before then taking in Baela. The two women seemed truly like the flesh of what was expected of a Targaryen, not that Crakehall pretender, Willas thought to himself. Baela herself looked like the more warring type, and while her face was young, the Tyrell did not underestimate her, she seemed to be weathered in the use of her armor and her sword by her side, and that, Willas could respect. He was no diplomat, he was a fighter, and a man who could navigate the perils of King's Landing, protecting King or Queen.

The Tyrell men were no doubt the power that controlled King's Landing. They were everywhere, and in force. An air of tension could be seen amongst a few of the forces, but overall, they had everything under control. Rhaenyra pulled her braid across her right shoulder as she slid off her dragon. Baela was looking about, smiling and waving at people, still enjoying the fact that she was the younger sister. It had been probably a few weeks, if not more, since the small folk had seen both a Targaryen and a dragon, let alone two in one place. Rhaenyra smiled at her sister, laughing aloud as she turned to greet Ser Willas Tyrell. He was older than he seemed in his letters, and to Rhaenyra's surprise, he was very militaristic in his features. 

In polite return, Rhaenyra curtsied before Ser Willas Tyrell, smiling at the man, before speaking to him as he had to her, though, albeit far less commanding. "The honor is all mine Ser Willas. It is because of you that King's Landing is still a free city, and has not descended into chaos and sorrow." She smiled, waving for Baela to come over and introduce herself as well. Turning back to face Ser Willas, Rhaenyra took note of his armor. It was no doubt a mark of being part of the Kingsguard, but with Ser Willas' own mark of individuality upon it. It was eloquently crafted, not over the top, but done with enough craftsmanship as to exude the pride and station of the man who wore it.

Baela had finally made her way over, bowing quickly before Ser Willas, before greeting him politely. "Ser Willas, an honor to meet you. You have decent hand writing, if it is you who pens your letters." She said with a smile, before standing next to Rhaenyra, awaiting to see what her sister was going to do. Baela let her hair fall freely in ringlets about her shoulders, her purple eyes gazing upon Ser Willas in quiet inspection, sizing him up of all things. "Aside from my sister's sense of humor, Ser Willas, I am humbled and honored at the protection and care in the safe keeping of both our dragons and ourselves. We shall defer to you in these matters of defense and safety. You no doubt have far more experience than either of us. Prince Jaehaerys spoke very highly of you." Rhaenyra said in a tone of respect, tinged with a bit of sadness.

Willas nodded, a smile on his face. It was something about this whole situation, he just knew that it was not his territory to do politics, but he knew of the things they spoke of. Jaehaerys was a good man, that much Willas knew, and he felt a little humbled to hear it from the Princess. That, and the fact that their purple eyes were fixed on him. He was no handsome man, which was what Garland did spectacularly. Willas had to tell him, he said to himself, that they were as beautiful as he last remembered them to be, their white hair and purple eyes, driven by a fire that only a dragon could inspire. 

"I was taught literacy intensely when I was younger, Princess. I was taught to write well." He added, smiling, as he looked at the rest of the men in his presence, the distant noise of the small folk. They were congregating, outside the Dragon Pit, clearly in shock. Well, a pair of dragons had ridden in, and Willas knew he was shocked...and he was accustomed to Aegon's, no less. It was a sight to see, a reminder that among the Tyrells, there was still a Targaryen in King's Landing, and that perhaps brought some respite to the populace.

"And from that, I am humbled too. But it is my duty. I understand...I left the Kingsguard, I do not know where they went, because I knew that your service awaited me, for that I know the punishment is death. As I swear it by the Gods, I shall serve to protect you from those evils that do seek to push you aside." He said, taking a breather before he continued.

"As my nephew told me, the world is a dangerous place right now. And I seek to protect you because without your presence, we shall have no Seven Kingdoms left to run, it will disintegrate into feuding Kings like they say it was centuries before Aegon. Any fool can tell you that power-hungry men and women of the past would destroy everything we have, and you are our fire in the dark. I am no historian...I know nothing, Princesses. But I know that much of your importance when they tell me that." He added, looking out to the Retinue, back at the gate, before turning back. He took in the two princesses, swallowing a lump in his throat, itching his chin a little with his armored hand.

"Now, as to the matters within the city. I expect you wish to return to the Red Keep...and to see Aegon's body once more. They have not buried him yet, he is still in the Septry, as he was a few days ago. People have paid their respects, but I assume you have also come to pay yours, Princesses. We will see to it that you will be able to. It is up to you, where we go. I will write to my nephew immediately to inform him that you've arrived, and if he follows through, he shall arrive to continue serving as Lord Hand in the capital." He said, with a humble voice, not trying to sound assertive, trying to rather sound supportive, suggestive of what they had intended to do. 

"For now, however, you are at the very least, Lady Protector of the Realm, Princess Rhaenyra, and I am at your disposal." 

The sisters listened quietly as Ser Willas spoke. He was no liar, he was well educated and learned. He spoke well enough, perhaps with a bit of a more rough militaristic side to him in the way he stood and positioned himself. He was no doubt on guard, especially with the pockets of unrest and violence that still dotted the city. He had seen King Aegon X die, and that played some part in how he reacted to world about himself. Baela liked him already, offering him a big smile as he spoke of his education from when he had been younger. Of course, she spoke up before Rhaenyra could stop her.

"That is good to know. Too many illiterate knights and lords, even today. You already set yourself above all of them. Perhaps you could woo Princess Rhaenyra with some poetry, she is quite fond of it." The small dancing across her lips devilish and playful. The younger princess quickly danced away, to leave Rhaenyra alone with Ser Willas while she went to unpack her saddlebag. The look upon Rhaenyra's face would no doubt have been priceless. She was deeply blushing, and staring at her sister with the look of utter disbelief. She looked away from Ser Willas, trying to contain her embarrassment, before turning back to speak to him.

"Let us make haste for the Red Keep then. The sooner we get there, the better. I do not seek to let us dally here, when there is work is to be done." She brushed her hair back behind her, taking a moment to collect her thoughts and take a deep breath. The redness from her cheeks had subsided now, and it made things easier as she spoke to Ser Willas.  "If indeed the specter of our enemies hangs over us, then it will be in our best interest to make our presence known to not only the people here, but ensure that control of the Iron Throne does not fall into the hands of any usurpers." She finished, looking at Ser Willas as he began to respond.

Willas simply nodded, chuckling a little. They really were tempting him, and he knew that they were being completely playful. He had to be removed from their presence, in the sense that it meant that he wouldn't be too close to Rhaenyra. Perhaps he took his mind a little too seriously, he said to himself mentally. But at the same time, this was King's Landing. It did that to you, took away any sense of true chivalry, of trust, it made you question and interrogate, and stick to the code that kept you alive. For Willas, that would be making sure that these two were safe, and that most of all, he kept the right distance away from them, not too far to allow those who wanted her to die to come close, and not too close to get in their way.

"I will not become involved in courtly love, Princess. Us men of The Reach may be famed for it, but once again, I will leave that to Garland. He has no doubt, many a matter on his mind, and he is far better at it than I am. If you remember from the Hand's Tourney a couple of years back, you will know he is still The Young Rose that you remember." Willas added.
"I would suggest so, Rhaenyra. Whatever Garland has in mind, we have to remember there is a lot to go through, lots of letters and so on. . The situation is unclear, but right now, you need our protection, and you know the realm depends on you." Willas said, as he looked across at the Retinue inside, nodding to one of the Lieutenants, as he looked back.

"We have a pair of horses for you, Princesses. I know it's not a dragon, but we shall ride up to The Red Keep."  Ser Willas was about to continue before Rhaenyra held up her hand to pause him.

"A horse is no less noble than a dragon. The true test of a creature, is the temperament of the rider that sits astride the creature. I have a few things to grab from my saddle bags, and then we shall make all due haste to follow you to the Red Keep. Once we are inside, we can worry about everything else. But you are right, safety is paramount right now." Rhaenyra smiled, before turning to hurry over and undo a rucksack from Visaxes saddle, slinging it over her shoulders. "The rest of my supplies rides with my retinue. I want at least five hundred of my own men guarding our dragons... I will not have a repeat of what befell my family during the Dance of Dragons. The Dragon Pit must not fall... am I clear, Ser Willas?" Rhaenyra spoke in a commanding tone for the first time, a voice that held no room for rebuttal. Her eyes looked deeply into Ser Willas, as she awaited his response and for him to lead the way.

"We are clear on that, most certainly. I will match that number with my own retinue, my men will die for them if they must. We know what these dragons mean to the Realm. They're your power, and our tipping point if we are to become besieged...” Willas said, looking across at them, back into their eyes, his voice taking on a certain vigor, albeit a militaristic one. They were menacing, truly so, and he could even see the vapor running off Jadefyre, from its nostrils it breathed a hot that could only be found in the depths of a furnace. As he turned around, the retinue began leading the way out of the Dragon Pit, towards the slightly drizzly exit, the rain dying down a little from earlier, Willas making a gesture for a couple of his men to move to help carry the saddle bags from the dragon, taking them onto their backs, lugging them across to the horses, terrified and held by other members of the retinue inside the pit.

"Come then, Princesses. Let us ride, and come the morrow, we shall have your banners flying over the gates once more." He simply added to the two, as he walked across, moving by his own. The brown horse did not have a garb like Ser Maxwell's, it only had a saddle, and little else. It was a functional horse, a warhorse, no less, with legs and a frame built to fight. It was a Kingsguard's choice, bred in the stables of the Riverlands for their exact purpose, and while it was not the greatest or largest of horse breeds, no less in a comparison of the Dothraki hordes, it was a horse fit for Royal function. 

Rhaenyra and Baela followed Ser Willas to the two awaiting horses, finding them saddled and ready for the small amount of gear that had with them. Hopping up into the saddle, Rhaenyra and Baela waved goodbye to their dragons, smiling at the great creatures as they lumbered into their stalls, bedding themselves down for the day and coming night, before both were lost from view as the royal party followed Ser Willas towards the Red Keep. Both Princesses waved at the small folk and upper class populace alike as they rode by. The people could be noted as being on edge, but, with the two smiling and at ease women, a sizable portion of that unrest and fear could be seen visibly melting away.

[h3][u][b]Royal Apartments, The Red Keep, later that evening. Princesses Rhaenyra and Baela Targaryen.[/b][/u][/h3]

Princess Rhaenyra lounged comfortably upon her bed, reading over the letter she had received from Princess Eleina Martell. Though they had never met, from what she read, and had heard from other individuals, she assumed that she would greatly enjoy meeting Princess Eleina. The woman was powerful, and held complete control over Dorne, something that would play an important role in the weeks to come. She turned to where her sister lay by the fire place, her gown splayed out around her form. Smiling, Rhaenyra threw an orange at Baela, hitting her squarely on her head. Laughing, she quickly darted off the bed to the solar, where she sat down in her chair that was behind the desk, newly covered in paperwork and letters. 

Without fail, as soon as she arrived, word had gone out across the city and the shanty’s that dotted out front of the walls of King’s Landing. Already, she had at least thirty different letters, some true and sincere, others from lickspittles, and some from people looking for help and handouts. All in all, it left for a tedious work schedule. Baela was standing in the door way now, sternly looking at her elder sister. “Was that necessary? Really? The orange was heavy you jerk.” She proceeded to toss the same orange back at Rhaenyra, only for it to narrowly miss. 

“Baela, go find some knight to pester. Better yet, let Edrick Dayne know that I am ready to accept him for dinner. And as penance for your earlier actions, you will escort him to our chambers, alongside with ensuring Ser Trevan, Lord Rykker, and Lady Mooton are in attendance. Furthermore, if it’s not too much to ask of you, see if Ser Willas will join us as well.” Rhaenyra had a smile upon her face, she was serious, and then again, she wasn’t. To her surprise, Baela bowed before her, before turning to hurry off to complete her task. No doubt there was something she was going to do to cause a problem or give Rhaenyra a headache. What could be done about siblings?

Rhaenyra placed Princess Eleina Martell’s letter down, letting herself know to write back with all due haste after dinner. She moved to a tall mirror in her room, and busied herself with undoing her braid to allow her hair to flow freely across her shoulders and back. She knew that a first impression with this emissary from Dorne would be very important and telling. She did feel bad making the man wait, but, she had other matters that she had to take care of first. Not that she did not wish to meet with Edrick Dayne, but that she had to settle in to her new home, assign guard shifts, ensure the dragons were protected, and most importantly, pay her respects to her deceased uncle and King, Aegon X. This had taken the better part of the day, and the sun had set a few hours ago. The man had been waiting since this morning, and thankfully, he would no longer have to wait.

She noticed her makeup was a bit smudged from crying earlier, and set about cleaning up to look her best for her guests. This was a late dinner, far past the usual sunset affairs, but Rhaenyra was rest assured that the meal was going to be delicious and freshly prepared. Shaking her head, she returned her focus onto to the task at hand. She worked carefully to fix her makeup, doing all she could to look as pretty and presentable as she possibly could for her dinner guests. She needed to make a good impression, one that would be able to help garner future support for whatever fate decided was to come her, and the kingdom’s way.
Finishing with her beautification process, Rhaenyra made her way to the dining room of her apartments. It was a large table, fit to seat at least twelve people, probably more if need be, and took her place at the head of the table. She ran her fingers across the old wood, feeling the quality and craftsmanship that a woodworker had put forth into creating this work of art. She smiled, figuring that family members past dined here, perhaps even her namesake, one time long ago. Rhaenyra looked up at the ceiling, relieved that at least all the candles were lit, and none had gone out thus far. As her eyes drifted downwards, there came a knock at the doors, and in strode her sister and her guests.

Time passed slowly, as they sat themselves and said their greetings. Ser Trevan, Lord Rykker, Lady Mooton, and Baela came first, saying their hellos, before seating themselves. Ser Willas made a show of face, but politely declined to dine, stating that he had the city to look after. Apparently a small riot had broken out in the bakery district, and it needed to be tended to. Princess Eleina Martell’s subject, Edrick Dayne, was the last to enter. He offered a polite bow and smile, proper as could be, before seating himself in the seat of honor. Rhaenyra spoke with him at length while they waited for dinner, trying her best to answer any and all questions he may have.

Dinner came at last, a few fresh dishes along with a salad. The meats were a freshly quartered hog and a side of beef. Fresh honey bread and corn, lastly there was a freshly baked apple pie for desert. All in attendance at their fills, trading stories and tales, answering questions and concerns, having a nice end to a very long day. The beef and pork, both cooked to perfection, were picked clean, the bones given the kennels, and the rest of the left overs to given to the cook and his staff. Belly’s full, and personal selves at ease, it was time to part ways, and ready for sleep. Rhaenyra bid her quests farewell, assuring Edrick Dayne that if he had any more questions, she’d be happy to help in any way she could. It was her hope that most of Edrick’s questions had been answered satisfactorily, but knew that there would no doubt be some things she missed, or that he had follow up question to. 

With her quests finally gone, both she and Baela made their way to lay down and get some much needed rest. Before Rhaenyra could ask her sister how she was, Baela was fast asleep, lying next to her curled up like a small cat. She could not help but smile, looking at Baela actually being truly girlish, it was refreshing. Rhaenyra herself felt the heavy blanket of sleep rolling over her as well, knowing she’d had a long day, and that rest was finally here. Still, it would not be an easy, worry free night. The realm was torn and unsettled. 

To the south, the Stormlands were in open rebellion against the Baratheon’s, apparently something that had been long in the running. Tygett Crakehall had not responded yet, nor had any signs of him relinquishing his claim to the throne. The Iron Islands were said to be raiding the North, as they always did, along with scattered reports of them harrying the Westerlands as well. Dorne and the Reach were looking to be willing to support the throne, the Vale and the Riverlands were wanting no part of whatever was to happen, though, they could not remain detached forever. Aerys was still missing, if not dead, and he was the true heir if he was alive. Odd, she thought. If his father was disinherited, would that not mean he too was disinherited? 

Alas, these were questions best left for the morning, when one is well rested and ready for the troubles that surely follow. With that, Rhaenyra closed her eyes, and finally drifted off to sleep, letting the dream world envelop her with hopes and joys, fantasy and dream. Safe and warm, she snuggled up next to her sister, and let go until it was time to wake again.