It was with ten thousand ships that Princess Nymeria sailed, Alicent read. Prince Garin the Great and the united Rhoynar had been defeated, three hundred dragons of the Valyrian Freehold descending upon their great host, bathing men and earth both in hellish dragon fire. With their cities sacked and people enslaved, their homes were lost forever, and so Nymeria of Ny Sar gathered every ship upon the Rhoyne, large and small. A perilous journey would follow as the Rhoynar sailed from the Valyrians of Old, through treacherous and stormy waters, fending off disease and starvation and corsair kings. For many a year, they sailed, growing from frightened folk to hardened warriors, and when they finally landed on the shores of Dorne, it was-

The cover of the tome closed on her fingers, and Alicent yelped as she looked up. "Rhaenyra!" She reopened the tome, ignoring the way her friend grinned and how her fingers stung. The Red Keep's godswood was quiet around them, the rustling of the heart tree's leaves and the rest of the castle a distant thing. A good place to read and learn the histories, if one was intent on doing as such. "That hurt."

Rhaenyra sat up, twisting about so that they faced one another. "Let me see," she said, and Alicent quickly found her fingers under a royal princess' inspection. They were turned this way and that, held aloft a smooth palm, caressed by supple fingers. Alicent giggled when Rhaenyra gave each a kiss, her cheeks heating up. The kisses tickled, each one having her smile all the more. "Is my lady all better?" Eyes like deep amethysts gazed up at her.

"I believe she is." Alicent liked the way the princess smiled. They stayed like that for a moment, hands together, and she didn't know what to say. It was like her tongue had gotten stuck to the roof of her mouth. Rhaenyra slipped out of her grasp and returned to her previous position, reclining with her head against Alicent's leg, twisting the gold ring on her middle finger this way and that. "But I'm still cross with you."

"Oh?"

"You haven't even started on Archmaester Martin's A History of Princess Nymeria and Her Ten Thousand Ships," said Alicent, smoothing out the page she'd been reading. "Septa Marlow wants us to know the histories of all the Seven Kingdoms."

"Then she should have chosen an archmaester who actually completed a history of all seven kingdoms of Westeros." Rhaenyra looked up at her, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Martin only ever wrote five histories, dying before he could cover the Starks of the North and the Durrandons of the Stormlands."

"Yes, but he did get to the Arryns of the Vale, the Hoares of the Iron Islands, the Gardeners of the Reach, the many petty kings of the Riverlands, and House Nymeros Martell of Dorne. All of which are now ruled by the Iron Throne and your father. The king's cupbearer should know the histories of the Seven Kingdoms, no?"

"I could point out that the Iron Throne has no control over Dorne, so we're really the Six Kingdoms."

"Rhaenyra!" Even though she knew they were alone, Alicent looked over her shoulder, searching for anyone who might have overheard them. All she saw was the white branches of the heart tree with its many red leaves, the face carved into the trunk smiling sadly, unmoving eyes leaking red sap like tears. "That is not something to jest about. The septa would be furious if she heard you say such things."

"I wish she had heard. She's funny when she's furious," Rhaenyra said, reaching up to take one of Alicent's hands in her own. "And you are too serious."

"If I'm too serious." Alicent squeezed her friend's hand. "Then you are too worried. You're always like this when you're worried."

"Like what?"

"Disagreeable."

Rhaenyra pursed her lips at that, eyes to the many red leaves fluttering about in the wind above them. Alicent gave her friend's hand another squeeze. She had tried to avoid the topic as much as possible, but it seemed that every second conversation they had led back to it. The impending birth of Queen Aemma's child. A son, to hear tell from the king and court. Even her own lord father thought so. A son and heir to secure the line of succession.

Alicent knew Rhaenyra would never say so aloud, for doing so would be to admit to it. "You're worried that your father is about to overshadow you with a son."

"I'm worried about my mother," Rhaenyra said softly. She took her hand away and started twisting her ring. "This will be her fifth pregnancy in ten years, did you know? All in the hope that my father will get a son. It's what he's always wanted. A male heir to sit the Iron Throne after him. That, or my uncle and his son. I rather hope for my father that it is to be a son."

"You want him to have a son? Even when House Targaryen already has male heirs?"

"I want to fly with you on dragonback, see the great wonders across the Narrow Sea, and eat only cake." Rhaenyra twisted her ring about some more. Then she sighed and sat up. "I want to at least know this cousin of mine that no one will speak of. All I know is that he's named Aegon Targaryen, after the Conqueror, he's never left the Vale, and that he's only a couple months older than us. Second in line to the Iron Throne and I don't even know what he looks like."

"You've never met him before?" Alicent asked.

"No." Rhaenyra shook her head. "Daemon doesn't speak of him. He's never spoken of him. I only learned that I had a cousin from my mother, who is an aunt to Lady Jeyne Arryn. To hear tell from the small council, they think that he's my uncle writ small. A rogue prince of the Vale."

"Well," Alicent said, "mayhaps you could meet him during the tourney and get the know of him? Most of the realm is coming."

A crunch of leaves under approaching steps reached their ears, and Rhaenyra whipped her head towards it. "Indeed, that is the plan," she said, standing and brushing herself off. Alicent saw that it was Ser Harrold Westerling coming their way. The knight of the Kingsguard was Rhaenyra's sworn shield, garbed and armored in white, helm of white steel in his hand. "Ser Harrold! Good news?"

Alicent got to her feet as the knight reached them, tome clutched in her hands. Ser Harrold inclined his bald head to both of them, white cloak fluttering against him as he stopped. "Princess, my lady. Aye, it is good news. Prince Aegon's party has passed through the Gate of the Gods and are making their way along the King's Way. They number some two hundred and fly over a dozen banners."

"Then we best greet them."

"Right now?" Alicent suddenly became aware of how dirty and disheveled her dress was, sitting amongst the leaves and dirt of the Red Keep's godswood. "What about-"

Rhaenyra grabbed her hand, tugging her along. "Come on."

They were off at once, winding through the red stone halls of the Red Keep. Alicent didn't have a chance to return to her chambers to put down the tome, having to pass it off to a passing servant. Several lords and ladies they passed all paid courtesy to Rhaenyra, nodding and bowing and curtseying, but the princess hardly noticed, and Alicent found herself smiling with her as they went. Through the inner courtyard, past the grand staircase, through the Great Hall, and along the way to the throne room and the outer yard. The household guards straightened as they passed, young pages skirted out of their way, and a septa chided them about running. Alicent was arm in arm with Rhaenyra when they reached the parapets overlooking outer bailey, the place where approaching riders would gather before greeting the king upon the Iron Throne. Ser Harrold Westerling was close behind them, snow white cloak fluttering behind him like a great banner.

The blast of a horn sounded through the air, followed by the pounding of hooves, and the shout from the guards manning the iron ramparts. "Riders approaching!" Ser Harrold had said that they numbered near two hundred, but as Alicent watched them ride through the gates, their numbers seemed endless. First came the knights bearing the sky-blue Arryn falcon, soaring within a white moon on a sky-blue field. Behind them was that of the Royces of Runestone, black studs on a bronze field, ringed by runes of the First Men. Alicent watched them ride by, but it was with the gasp from Rhaenyra that she saw the prince amidst his knights.

Prince Aegon Targaryen rode at the center of the column, surrounded by knights of House Royce, and their squires close behind. He didn't have the long silver hair of the Targaryens, but brown locks that barely brushed his shoulders, and his eyes colored like lilac seemed bright by contrast. His surcoat was the Royce arms quartered with the Targaryen dragons. For his Targaryen father and his Royce mother, Alicent knew, yet it was odd to see. Right there, sitting tall in his saddle, a curious grin to his handsome face. He didn't seem like he was Daemon Targaryen writ small, merely a knight jesting with his companions.

Stewards and stableboys and servants flooded into the outer bailey to attend their newest guests. They converged on the knights of the Vale. Alicent knew the banners and houses from her lessons, the names coming to her mind with each standard. Behind the Royces were men of House Corbray, the three black ravens of Heart's Home flying off with three red hearts. The six bells of House Belmore adorned knights with purple cloaks. Graftons of Gulltown stood beside Redforts of Redfort. The houses sworn to Runestone, the Coldwaters and the Shetts and the Tolletts, were all present as well. Behind them were Waynwood men, Lynderly men, Ruthermont men, Waxley men, Hardyng men, Templeton men. Then there were the men-at-arms and hedge knights and freeriders, most who bore devices that were so weathered or foreign that they were unrecognizable. None of them seemed to notice their presence upon the parapets.

"He doesn't look like I thought he would," Rhaenyra said, her gaze fixed upon the knight with the lilac eyes.

"You mean he doesn't look just like Prince Daemon?" Alicent asked.

"No." Rhaenyra gestured to her cousin below. He was speaking with knights of House Royce and House Corbray by their colors. "He has my uncle's nose, and his chin. But I thought he would be more…"

"Targaryen?"

"Mayhaps…"

Alicent wondered about the prince as well. He was indeed a handsome figure sitting his black palfrey. More dashing and knightly than the dangerous sort that Prince Daemon carried about him. Looking more a knight of the Vale than a prince of the realm. When he looked their way, grinning at something his fellow knight had said, his eyes found them both, before they seemed to slide past her to Rhaenyra. Alicent wanted to pull away, knowing they had been rude by staring so unabashedly, but a hand round her arm stopped her. Rhaenyra intertwined their fingers as Prince Aegon dismounted, spoke to a young boy wearing a Corbray surcoat, and then made for the steps leading to the parapets with a Royce knight beside him, speaking softly to one another.

Prince Aegon stopped at the foot of the steps with his companion, sketched a perfect bow at the waist that would have had Septa Marlow singing his praise, and said, "Princess Rhaenyra, Lady Alicent, if I may be so bold as to say, you are both a sight to behold."

Alicent felt her cheeks warm up, and Rhaenyra inclined her head and said, "It is not too bold of you to say, cousin, when speaking of the truth." A grin tugged at Prince Aegon's lip, while the other knight choked on a chuckle. "And who is this friend of yours?"

The knight straightened under Rhaenyra's gaze. He was of a height with Prince Aegon, though his hair was darker, his eyes brown, and the beginnings of a beard across his sharp jaw. His bow was stiffer, like the movements had been drilled into him by a septa, a hint of pink to his cheeks. "I am Ser Willam Royce, Your Grace, begging your pardon. I meant no offense by my conduct. The journey has been a long one, and tiring."

"My coz speaks true," Prince Aegon said. They both climbed to the top of the steps, and Alicent felt shorter for it. Both prince and knight had at least a head over them. "The Kingsroad is packed with travelers all coming to King's Landing for the tourney. The streets of the city itself even more so. But I offer my apologies on Willam's behalf. There are many slippery smooth stones in the Vale, and my coz has fallen by more than a few of them."

Ser Willam blushed red as a beet, driving his elbow into Prince Aegon's side. The blow was ignored, the prince simply smiling handsomely and chuckling. Rhaenyra chuckled with him, and Alicent found herself smiling. A grin found its way to Ser Willam as well, and he elbowed his cousin once more. "We don't all have as perfect a footing as you, coz."

"Hopefully we shall see this perfect footing during the melee," Rhaenyra said, and that had both knights grinning ear to ear, before a laugh burst from Ser Willam. The knight quickly bit his lip, even as Prince Aegon snorted. "What is so funny?"

"Nothing of concern, cousin," Prince Aegon said. "Our minds are tired and frayed from the journey, truly. In our haste to reach King's Landing in time for the tourney, we decided against stopping at an inn for the midday meal, so our manners are less than refined."

"Yes," Ser Willam agreed, cheeks still red. "A hungry mind is not a smart mind."

Rhaenyra giggled at that, but Alicent had a thought. "We've yet to sit for the midday meal," she offered, the thought of food ever more enticing in that moment. "Mayhaps Prince Aegon and Ser Willam would like to sup with us?"

Alicent feared that she had said something wrong, for the happiness on both their faces disappeared in an instant. Ser Willam had his lips set in a thin line, eyes to the steps, his hands on his swordbelt beside the ornate hilt of his sword. Prince Aegon peered at her with an expression that could have been hewn from stone. His lilac-colored eyes almost seemed to look through her, and then he worked his jaw, unclenching his fist at his side. "I thank you for the courtesy, my lady," he said. "But I am no prince."

Rhaenyra started at that. "Your father-"

"He is not my father," Aegon snapped, a fury in those lilac eyes. Then he took a breath and bowed his head. When he looked up, there was a cold hardness in his eyes. "Begging your pardon, princess, my lady, that was uncouth of me. Prince Daemon Targaryen may be my father and the husband to my lady mother, but he has never been a father to me, and so I will not claim to be a son of his. I am a Royce of Runestone, a son of Lady Rhea Royce, and a knight of the Vale."

"I was the one who misspoke," Alicent quickly said, cheeks flushing red. From the corner of her eye, she saw Rhaenyra peering at her cousin differently than she had before. "No offense was meant."

"And none was taken." Ser Aegon smiled, and Ser Willam offered a small grin. "I do hope that we can still share a meal together. There is little I know of the city and the king's court, and I cannot rely on Willam to show me every street and corner of King's Landing."

"Then I shall take up the task," Rhaenyra said, and deftly looped an arm around her cousin's, smiling prettily up at him. Alicent thought she saw his arm stiffen slightly. "We do have so much to speak on. Have you seen the dragons yet?"

"I have not. But I needs must see that my fellow lords and knights are settled after our journey before taking a look at these dragons."

"You need not worry about them, coz," said Ser Willam, an easy grin sliding into place. "I am sure that most of them will be able to find their way, and if not, Ser Leowyn and his good Lady Forlorn will provide them all with a firm reminder in the sparring yard. Go. Princess Rhaenyra and Lady Alicent are better suited to introduce you to the king's court than I am."

Ser Aegon moved to speak, but his cousin would not hear of it, taking the steps two at a time after offering them a quick nod. He was already calling for a boy named Corwyn. Alicent found herself trailing behind Rhaenyra and her cousin with Ser Harrold, feeling out of place, an intruder. But Ser Aegon insisted that she come along, for he did not want her to be so unceremoniously abandoned.

"You have a dragon of your own, cousin?" Ser Aegon asked, as they walked a slow pace through the Red Keep towards Maegor's Holdfast.

"I do." Rhaenyra smiled to herself, and Alicent couldn't help but join in. The princess and her dragon shared a strong bond, she knew. Though the courage to take Rhaenyra up on her offer to fly through the air had yet to avail itself to Alicent. The ground rooting her feet whenever the question was posed. "She's named Syrax, for the Valyrian Goddess."

He nodded at that, thinking. Then he spoke, but his words were not Common Tongue. High Valyrian, Alicent realized, the words sounding familiar to how Rhaenyra spoke. Uneasy coming from Ser Aegon, and he stumbled over a word or two. But it was unmistakably High Valyrian. "You speak it?" she asked.

"At my maester's knee," Ser Aegon said. "My mother insisted that I learn the tongue of my forefathers, saying that it would be a benefit to me."

"The Dragonkeepers say that any dragonrider needs the language of the Valyrians as much as he needs the blood."

"But if you would come with me, Alicent," Rhaenyra said, wiggling her fingers at her. "You can be the first person to have another to ride a dragon. Syrax does like you."

"Mayhaps after we finish with our meal, the Warrior will grant you and I a blessing in this," Ser Aegon said, smiling at her from the other side of Rhaenyra. "You the courage to face flight upon a dragon, and I the strength in the coming tourney. Dragons are in sight for both of us, and mayhaps within our grasp in the coming days."

For half a heartbeat Alicent considered refusing, that his faith in her was misplaced. She was hardly the lady with enough courage for flight, not like Rhaenyra. But as they continued on their way, Rhaenyra started to speak on how flying through the clouds on Syrax felt, Alicent stole glances at the handsome knight from the vale. Named after Aegon the Conqueror, and he looks enough like him, but in bronze, with his knightly vows, and a hidden fury within him.

She wondered who would bow first, the knight, or the dragon.