42 Allegro

"This is so unfair. Why won't you let me come with you?"

"—You've already gone on tour. With mother, remember?"

Rhaenyra hassled me daily in the weeks leading up to my departure.

"You'll be gone for so long!"

"—Nonsense. I'm only a dragon ride away. Father made me promise I would come back whenever he bade me visit."

But no matter the answer, there was always another issue. Some excuses were more legitimate than others.

"What if there's a storm?"

"Then you'll have to be brave until I get back."

And others attempted to pull on my heartstrings.

"... But I'll miss you."

I bopped her forehead, "I'll miss you too."

"I hate this."

"Don't despair," I said, "No doubt the high lords will be gracious hosts. You can fly on dragonback to attend any festivities. They would be greatly honored by a visit from the Princess, wouldn't you agree?"

In the end, it always ended with Rhaenyra growling, a "Fine, be that way then!", followed by something like how she bets all the ladies of the realm just can't wait for the privilege of meeting me. But by those days I was used to my sister's possessiveness.

When the day came of my departure, members of the court woke especially early and assembled in the courtyard to bid me farewell.

I wore a dark red cape embroidered with golden dragons gracefully draped over my lightweight scaled armor.

Mother insisted on strapping my weapons belt, equipped with a shortsword and dirk. It reminded me of that feeling of having your tie tightened by your mother before you left for the school ball.

"Look at you," she said, "my little Prince."

Father gently touched her shoulder and smiled, sharing in her pride. "Not-so-little anymore, my Queen."

"No, but he'll always be my baby boy."

"I should hope. Our pantry would be better for it!"

Laughter erupted in the yard, the phoney kind I knew all too well. Suddenly, I was filled with excitement to embark on my journey.

Nobles stood on either side, forming a lane that led to the gate. They clapped, smiled, and sang my praises.

Part of me wanted to tell them to stop, to remind them that I was only going on a tour and there was no need for such a grand send-off.

Instead, I smiled and played along, pretending this ritualistic farewell was normal. I thanked them, nodded, and sang their praises in return, making sure to stop and exchange a few words with some of them.

Lord Lyonel Strong was among those assembled with his sons. "May the Smith protect you, my Prince," he said.

"The Smith indeed," I replied, glancing at Larys. We had joked about him joining us on the tour. "Well? Last chance to tag along."

Larys used his walking stick to tap his clubfoot twice. "You honor me, Prince Rhaenar. But I fear I would only slow you down."

I playfully bumped my fist into his chest, a gesture of camaraderie. "We could arrange to have you carried."

Further down the line, Princess Rhaenys and her children stood together, portraying the image of a happy family. Little Laena embraced me tightly, expressing how much she would miss me. Laenor, dressed and ready for the journey, had to be reminded once again that he couldn't come along.

Allowing him to join would have set off a chain reaction, with everyone wanting to join. That was something I couldn't allow. Thankfully, Lord Corlys understood my reasoning and helped soften the blow when breaking the news to Laenor. I was grateful for his support.

I nodded as Ser Otto Hightower wished me good luck, then took a whiff of my chosen fragrance for the week: lime.

"I will miss your flowers, my Lady," I remarked to Alicent.

She smirked coyly at me and replied, "I can have them delivered if you'd like."

"No, that's alright. Let them bloom in the gardens. *Something* has to rival your beauty around here."

Alicent couldn't help but cover her mouth as she giggled, as if finding something about her own smile unattractive. Ser Otto and his lady wife joined in, their mirth carrying a warm, fatherly undertone. It felt as though we had already become family, as if we had been in-laws for years. Alicent and I exchanged promises to write to each other before I turned to walk away.

"Hmph!"

And there, at the end of the lane, stood my sister. Arms crossed, she wore a disapproving expression and refused to look at me.

"You can't stay wroth forever," I said.

Rhaenyra's face flushed with the slow-burning inner fire of rage that we Targaryens sometimes must suppress. "I can, and I will. You call this an escort?"

At the end of the lane, Ser Steffon and Lorent stood vigil, their demeanor more serious than usual. Perhaps they didn't want to be shown up by Pheonix, who had the utmost seriousness befitting an Unsullied soldier. Brien and Theodore rubbed sleep from their eyes while Sari Sicai stretched his legs by crouching side to side.

Indeed, it was a motley crew, ill-suited for the gravity befitting the Prince and Heir apparent.

"My escort?" I said, offering her a tight hug. She still kept her arms crossed, her spine cracking audibly.

Suddenly, a savage screech pierced the sky as Sundance swooped down, narrowly missing the watchtower with his tail as he soared back up.

Then came the sound. Crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch, crunch!

Cleated boots marched.

Marched through the streets~

The front gate of the Red Keep opened, and the 501 Rhaenari stood just before its entrance, forming two rows that resembled the lane created by the nobles earlier, but with a much more formidable and fitting presence.

There was a satisfying rumble of metal as all 501 soldiers stood in stiff-saluted unison.

I chuckled, a surge of pride coursing through me as I realized how much I missed those damn bastards and how well they remembered their training.

"Rhaenari!"

Spears were thrust skyward in perfect unison, accompanied by the chant, "A'oo, A'oo, A'oo!"

I clicked my tongue in a tssk tssk tssk.

"RHAENARI!"

"A'OO! A'OO! A'OO!"

This time, the ground quaked, and my bones vibrated. "Much better!"

I glanced back at the assembled nobles. Their expressions said it all, none more so than Rhaenyra's.

I smiled at my self-appointed Master of Security.

"What were you saying about my escort?"

As I mounted the white stallion, the bells rang throughout the city, their joyful chimes echoing in the air.

Ser Steffon and Lorent rode on either side of me, their noble figures adorned in Kingsguard armor and white cloaks, presenting a visage of virtue and strength.

Following closely behind were the scholars, their riding skills never the best. Sari, with his characteristic casualness, rode with ease.

Pheonix remained on foot, barking orders and ensuring everything ran smoothly. After one last wave and blowing of kisses, we set off on our journey.

The procession we formed created quite the spectacle, a grand parade in itself. The lockstep rhythm of the Rhaenari was formidable and awe-inspiring. The sheer unity and togetherness displayed as they marched was impressive.

Crowds gathered in the streets, lining the way to bid me farewell, cheering and offering their wishes for a safe journey.

Amid it all, a child ventured into the middle of the street, risking harm. I recognized the boy's face.

The Rhaenari, ever vigilant, reacted instinctively, but I swiftly calmed them, assuring them that the child meant no harm and only sought a chance to be close to the Prince. It reminded me once again of the importance of caution, and I was pleased to witness the unwavering professionalism of my men, even after their time at home.

The crowd continued to gather as we made our way down Muddy Way, their numbers growing with each step.

At one point, I noticed a gathering of beautiful women, waving silk favors and causing my men to blush. Among them stood Arland, leading the group, and he winked at me as I rode past, his mischievous nature shining through.

We proceeded down to Fishmongers Square and passed through the Muddy Gate.

Our destination was the ferry that would take us across the Blackwater Rush, leading us south down the Kings Road through the dense Kingswood. Prior to our departure, we had taken care to ferry all our necessary supplies across the river the day before.

Choosing the ferry as our mode of departure was a strategic decision that ultimately swayed the entire route.

In the weeks leading up to my journey, reports had reached us of numerous individuals planning to trail my party throughout the tour.

There were mummers seeking opportunities to perform, old men with wagons of pig shit, sightseers eager to explore the country, merchants hoping to make a profit.

Indeed, the presence of camp followers was something I knew would be inevitable, regardless of the precautions taken.

Wherever there was an army, there would be camp followers. It had been a longstanding tradition, one that existed long before my time.

Instead of trying to completely prevent their presence, I saw it as an opportunity for an exercise in planning.

I wanted to test our ability to stay ahead of the followers, how many days or miles ahead, by carefully strategizing our exit — a harmless yet engaging exercise after my time spent in the Red Keep, painting with my head in the clouds.

Additionally, we faced the challenge of an influx of volunteers. The original plan was for the Rhaenari to gather at the Ivy Inn before joining me in King's Landing.

However, as the days went by and contingents arrived, it became apparent that each group brought more numbers than before.

It seemed that the Rhaenari had returned home after boot camp and became more actively involved in their communities.

Despite being informed about the demanding nature of the training, many found themselves drawn to our corps, enticed by the allure of joining our ranks. That was fine, but they'd have to keep up with us first.

Once we had crossed the Blackwater Rush on the ferry, I gathered the Rhaenari together before we ventured the Kingswood.

"Attention!" I called out, and 501 fists went to their hearts in salute.

I dismounted from my horse and handed the reins to a servant. The stallion was mostly for show when we arrived at populated areas. I would march alongside my men, traveling the country together on foot.

I walked up and down the ranks, inspecting everyone's gear and exchanging greetings. Afterward, the lieutenants and captains stepped forward to report.

"Prince Rhaenar," Asher said, "It's good to see you again."

"Captain," I greeted him. "I've heard you've been keeping busy."

Zane playfully slung an arm around Asher's shoulder. "You bet! Our boy here married Lara, the most beautiful woman in Maidenpool. Wait 'till you hear her sing!"

I chuckled. "I heard there's a little one on the way?"

The men erupted in cheers and laughter, and Asher blushed. "Quiet, you fools!"

"And what about you, Zane? I hope you haven't spent all your wages on whores this whole time."

Zane scratched his head. "Wine and gambling?"

Asher rolled his eyes. "Boxing. Don't forget the boxing."

Zane grinned proudly. "Oh yeah! I'm the reigning lightweight champion of Maidenpool!"

I shook my head in disapproval. "Unacceptable. Zane, you are to cease participating in those matches, that's an order. And Asher, I expected you to maintain better discipline and not let Zane run amok like that. It seems Lara must really be something special."

"Whose someone special?" a voice chimed in.

I turned to see Evelyn, her clean blonde hair shining in the sunlight. She was dressed in dark, well-worn leather that hugged her form and accentuated her slim yet muscular physique.

She had the look of a seasoned tomboy, choosing a shortsword and dirk (or in our case, the dragonglass dagger) of the stewards instead of the traditional spear and shield of the soldiers, a fashion we adopted from Sari Sicai.

"Why, you, of course," I replied with a smile. "Hello, Evelyn. I hope you're prepared to run our camp."

"If I don't do it, who else will?" she retorted.

Zane couldn't resist a jest. "Some other wench?"

Silence fell upon the group, and Evelyn's piercing gaze said it all. Leave it to Zane to get himself in trouble before we even set off.

"P-P-Prince Rhaenar!" a voice stammered.

And there he stood, a vision of beauty and strength — Gorgeous George. His features were even more chiseled than before, and he seemed to have grown taller.

"Seven fucks, George! How did you become even more stunning?" I exclaimed, momentarily losing my princely composure.

"I-I... I did?" George stammered, taken aback by the compliment.

I chuckled. "If I brought you back to the Red Keep, the ladies would be drooling!"

The reunions continued, each one deserving of a feast.

Dick Mason radiated positivity, glad to have youngsters to assist him with the masonry work at Harrenhal, lightening the load on his weathered back.

Hayden Cuckright had remarried, a familiar pattern. Hayden's brother, true to form, attempted to pursue his new wife. Hayden simply shrugged and said, "If I ever tell you that story, we'll need wine, and lots of it."

Chit was as talkative as ever, armed with countless new stories that we would undoubtedly hear repeated throughout the entire tour, over and over and over.

Cranky Pete and his carpenter cronies, Deadeye Ronny and Dirty Douglas — they all had their tales to share.

Garvy eagerly rambled about the new recipes he couldn't wait to learn, while Ivan expressed gratitude for the wages he received during our break.

Leon boasted about his improved spear-throwing record, claiming it as his new norm.

The chatter continued unabated until I had to interject, realizing that we were losing valuable daylight and needed to stay ahead of the camp followers, who were in the process of ferrying themselves across the Rush.

"Enough with the life stories!" I declared. "We'll have plenty of nights to catch up. Rhaenari, move out!"

"Hoah!" they shouted unison, and south we marched.