The outer bailey was filled with dragons, towers, crabs, and lions. Knights and men-at-arms bore them on their surcoats and banners as they readied their horses and the royal carriage both, looking all the more like a party heading off to war than the escort of a royal princess and four noble ladies.
It had started off as nothing more than a question after a pleasant ride alongside the Blackwater Rush. A simple and innocent one. Yet it had soon become a beast of its own. The small council declared the small visit to Oldtown a royal progress of the Reach, and with it, the princess' retinue had grown. Twenty household knights and twoscore men-at-arms now made up the Targaryen contingent. Houses Hightower, Celtigar, and Reyne each retained ten household knights. Two maesters were now accompanying them as well, along with a small host of servants, and select members of the Faith. And it was only by the command of the queen that the party was not any larger.
Watching from the gallery above, Alicent felt a sense of worry in the depths of her stomach, twisting about like a coil, especially when her eyes chanced upon the red crabs strewn on white.
"There it is again," Triston said beside her, leaning against the stone balustrade. He still favored his shield arm over his sword arm. "That look. Always the same, and always after seeing the Celtigar crab. What did she do to cause so much worry?"
Nothing, Alicent thought, and that's what worries me so. It had felt like a knife to the heart, chancing upon Rhaenyra in the godswood, all but tucked into the side of that stranger. Of that Lady Calla Celtigar. She didn't know why. Was it jealousy? She had been nothing but courteous after Rhaenyra had left the two of them together to attend the small council. She said all the right words. But they seemed hollow and flat compared to Calla's own. That one's words had sounded perfect then, and they did even now, the memory of that pleasant voice and smile at the forefront.
Was that why her chest felt so tight at the thought?
"Unless this is a ladies' issue," her brother continued. "You all seem so strange at times. Oh, and Gwayne agrees with me. We've spoken about it ever since that meal with Lord Celtigar and his family."
"It is nothing," Alicent said, and truly wanted to believe her own words.
"I don't believe you, but I shan't push or pry." Triston looked down at the outer bailey, where the knights mingled, the men-at-arms jested, and the captains huddled in low conversation. "A royal progress through the bountiful Reach. I'm almost jealous that I won't be going."
"Almost?"
"The princess plans to make a visit of every castle and holdfast along the roseroad." Her brother tsked. "No doubt every minor lord and landed knight will want the honor of hosting her and her company. It's going to prove a tedious journey, sister, for the Reach has both in ample supply."
"And the prospect of seeing the Hightower again is not enough for you. Nor Dorian, it seems."
"Not when the royal progress will be stopping every half day to perform courtly courtesy. I may die of boredom after the hundredth stop of the journey at some tower in a wheatfield, so remote that only the maesters will know the name. And don't use Dorian against me like that, he and I write whenever something notable has happened, like brothers should. So, no, I shall stay in King's Landing for now. Lord Cargyll's name day is soon, and he always indulges with a good hunt."
Alicent found herself smiling as she turned to leave. "You never cease to amaze with your droll humor, brother."
Triston chuckled. "And I shall endeavor to outdo myself on your return," he called, and Alicent cast him one last glance. "Try not to worry too much, she's only a Celtigar." Then she turned a corner and sought out her princess. The stewards of the castle were going about with the final preparations for the royal progress. It would be the first one since the reign of King Jaehaerys, and both the king and the small council agreed that it would not do to have anything but perfection for the Realm's Delight.
Privately, she agreed. Rhaenyra deserves only the best. But what if the best for Rhaenyra meant Lady Calla Celtigar? Her brother's parting words rung through her mind. She's only a Celtigar. Alicent had learned much of Lord Celtigar's daughter from the meals Rhaenyra insisted they all have together, rides through the kingswood, afternoons sipping tea, and lessons with Septa Marlow. Calla had a regal grace about her, so pretty in her white and red dresses, and her jewels were all as clear as her sea-green eyes. She all but breathed courtly manners and was as lively as her elder brother Ser Bartimos was not.
And she knows how to move around the king's court even after so many years away. Her lord father had a history with Lord Celtigar, Alicent knew, and the one dinner they shared as two families had been nothing short of a lesson in political maneuvering. Something to do with the position of master of coin. From what she had gathered from the veiled words during that dinner, and from servants' gossip Gwayne overheard, Ser Otto Hightower had drawn battlelines within the small council and needed allies to shore it up. Lord Celtigar had been most unaccommodating, and so Lord Beesbury was returned to the office after the short tenure of Prince Daemon, while the king saw no need to question the Lord Hand's decision. It was an insult, or a snub, or a polite dismissal, but it seemed that time healed all wounds, and Calla Celtigar had honeyed words to sweeten her lord father's sentiments and her brother's cold words.
It had all been said so deftly that Alicent only realized she had been utterly convinced the morning after.
Even Father seemed convinced to let the past lie, or had it been a misdirection for Lord Celtigar's sake?
Alicent couldn't keep the frown from her lips as she crossed the drawbridge spanning the moat. A knight of the Kingsguard was always posted at the far end, but the White Swords had yet to fill the opening left by Ser Ryam Redwyne, and Ser Harold Westerling was soon to leave the castle. The duty fell to one of the Cargyll twins, both newly made household knights – and if the gossip of the king's court was to be believed – both on the shortlist for the white cloak. Alicent couldn't tell if the knight was Ser Arryk or Ser Erryk, so she erred on the side of caution and greeted him with a simple, "ser." Then she entered Maegor's Holdfast, that castle-within-a-castle, and headed for the royal apartments.
Ser Harold stood outside Rhaenyra's rooms with a hint of a smile on his lips. "You may be of some help in there, my lady," he said, and Alicent soon understood why. She found the princess standing amidst half a dozen open traveling chests, looking at herself in the tall Myrish standing mirror while she held a gown to her body, a dozen handmaids all holding various articles of clothing surrounding her. "A fine choice, Your Grace," one of them said, and three more were quick to agree. Others were busy reordering clothes seemingly already seen and discarded.
"Ah, Lady Alicent," came a familiar voice, and Alicent whirled around to find the queen sitting on a cushioned chair on the side. Her belly was still pronounced from the birth, and on her shoulder clung the white hatchling, the little thing not making a sound.
Alicent quickly dipped in curtsey. "Your Grace."
"Good of you to chance upon us," the queen said, as Rhaenyra pouted at them both and one of the handmaids took away the dress she had been holding. "My daughter has been struck by indecision, and it seems all my words have fallen on deaf ears, for we have made no progress."
"Mother," Rhaenyra whined.
"Mayhaps our dear Alicent will be of some assistance?" The queen looked very much amused at the chaos within Rhaenyra's rooms, and Alicent found half the handmaids looking to her like she was their savior. "The ladies of the Reach are known for their taste in fashion."
"Of course, Your Grace." Alicent stepped past chests and handmaids to make her way to her best friend, taking her hand. "Were you not already packed for the journey?"
"I thought I was," Rhaenyra said. "But Calla mentioned that the ladies of the Reach favor brighter hues and lighter fabrics, and all mine own gowns are Targaryen red and black."
Alicent smiled and nodded, but she couldn't ignore the way her chest tightened. Why is it always Calla, and why is she always right? The ladies of the Reach did prefer brighter hues, and Oldtown fashion favored wide skirts and slim bodices. None of what she saw in the chests would suit well. But the Rhaenyra she knew wasn't the kind of princess to bow to the standards of others. She would have flown into Oldtown on dragonback dressed in riding leathers with her hair braided in the manner of Queen Visenya Targaryen, sister-wife of the Conqueror. But that was the Rhaenyra I knew, not the Rhaenyra I know. Her princess had found the gods, taken the lessons of the Seven-Pointed Star to heart, and had fallen in love. She prayed daily, shunned her jewelry, and dressed modestly.
And now she turns to Calla when she used to turn to me.
"She has the right of it," Alicent allowed. "But there's no need to worry. Every seamstress in Oldtown will wish for your patronage, my lord uncle will honor you with a feast, and whatever you decide to wear to it will be a statement in and of itself."
"Would it not be rude to impose my choice of fashion onto them?" Rhaenyra asked.
"You're a princess, daughter of mine," said the queen, as one of her ladies began to direct the handmaids in reordering the traveling chests. "Smart, courteous, and pious. You would not be imposing on anyone."
In the end an arrangement of dresses and gowns were chosen, each hailing from a specific corner of the Seven Kingdoms. The handmaids bustled around, while Rhaenyra changed into a dress more suited for travel behind an ornate screen with the help of her handmaid Kyra, and the queen watched on silently with the hatchling on her shoulder. None of the jewelry was packed for the journey by Rhaenyra's command, and not even the queen could persuade her otherwise. The only piece of gold on her person would be the gold ring on her middle finger. "Wealth should not be flaunted," she reasoned from behind the screen.
The queen shared a look with one of her ladies while the hatchling stretched its little wings.
When Rhaenyra stepped out from behind the screen, she was dressed like a woman of the Reach, and Alicent felt herself flush red at the sight. She's gorgeous. The dress was a confection of blue Myrish lace with a tight-laced white bodice, revealing a hint of her shoulders and the tops of her small breasts. Her silver hair was unbound and fell to her elbows, the curls like waves as they tumbled past her shapely neck and slender arms. Her amethyst eyes shined at all the smiles she received, and Rhaenyra giggled as she twirled around for them, her skirt fluttering with the motion. They saw that she wore riding boots instead of slippers.
"What do you think, Alicent?" asked the princess.
The right words eluded her, and she smiled and felt her cheeks get all the warmer.
"I believe I speak for all when I say that it is a sightly dress," the queen said, standing from her seat. "Your beauty is beyond compare, Rhaenyra, and the gallant lords and knights of the Reach will all bask in your sight. They will hardly be able to look away."
But Aegon did, Alicent thought as mother and daughter embraced. He looked at her beauty, he caught her love, and then he walked away. For a moment she wondered what the two had said in the royal sept, and just as quickly dismissed the thought. It was a private and intimate conversation. One that Rhaenyra would only tell when she was ready, Alicent knew.
A small traitorous voice whispered that Calla Celtigar would know first, but Alicent ignored it, and she smiled when Rhaenyra pulled her into an embrace and kissed her cheek. She wanted the moment to last forever, to never forget this feeling, but all too soon her princess stepped out of their embrace. It felt wrong to not have her in her arms, and she didn't know why.
Only after all the traveling chests were packed did the queen bid them farewell. "Let the lords and ladies of the Reach see how much the Realm's Delight has grown. And I say this to both of you, do remember to write about your travels." They both promised as much, and the queen kissed her daughter on the cheek, the little hatchling chirped at them both, and then she was gone with her ladies following.
The denizens of the king's court had striven to outdo each other this day, and as Alicent accompanied Rhaenyra arm-in-arm with her sworn shield to the outer bailey, they encountered many and more. Young Ser Harry Horpe wore a new surcoat of grey and bone, the three death's head moths of his house counterchanged. Ser Tyland Lannister glittered in the sunlight, the gold finery of his clothes matching the shade of his hair. Lady Jeyne Sunglass wore a chain of golden seven-pointed stars with her white dress. Ser Willamen Rosby clicked his riding boots and doffed his ermine cap to them, Lord Steffon Staunton tapped his silver cane and inclined his head, while Ser Laurent Bar Emmon added a flourish of the hand with his bow. The king's fool – a dwarf named Mushroom always dressed in motley – raced by with young Rowena Strong close behind. They both had broomstick horses and ran around the long legs of the Red Keep's master-at-arms and a dozen of his knights, the pair laughing like lunatics while the little lady's septa chased after them. "Don't miss me too much, Your Grace," the dwarf shouted to them, and disappeared around a corner with the young lady and her septa close behind.
By the time they reached the outer bailey and the awaiting royal party, it seemed to Alicent as though the entire castle had come to see them off, with even the servants glancing down from the gallery. All fifty knights were ahorse and their mounts were barded in the trappings of their sworn houses. The men-at-arms were just as finely dressed, every one of them tall, strapping lads. Lady Johanna Reyne was ahorse, wearing riding leathers and a cloak emblazoned with the white and red Reyne lions. She drew scandalized looks, but none seemed to bother her. Beside the carriage was the king himself with his small councilors, the Lord Commander, and the other knights of the Kingsguard. Lord Corlys stood with his daughter, Lord Lyonel with his three eldest children, Lord Lyman with a heavy tome in his hands, the Grand Maester with one of the maester joining the progress, and her own father with her brothers. Triston winked and Gwayne smiled, and she could almost imagine Dorian flashing his crooked grin. Prince Daemon was present, armored in the black plate and golden cloak of the City Watch, his helm in his hand. The king's brother looked annoyed, bemused, conflicted, and insulted all at once.
And then her eyes found her, and Alicent felt herself clinging a little closer to Rhaenyra's side.
Lady Calla Celtigar wore white and red as always, but this dress spoke of Lannisport, the sleeves lined with gold satin and the silk hugging closer to her slender body. Her blonde hair was in a soft braid that curled down one shoulder, and her sea-green eyes seemed so innocent. Beside her was her brother Ser Bartimos Celtigar, who never seemed to smile for anything, and her father Lord Celtigar, a man said to rival Lord Corlys in more than just physical stature. With them was Lady Jocelyn Reyne, someone Alicent knew she could trust.
"Rhaenyra!" said the king, and Alicent reluctantly let go of the princess so the two could embrace. "My darling daughter is all grown up and ready to fly from the nest." Nobles of the small council and court chuckled along with the joke, and the king seemed to enjoy it the most. "A royal progress of the Reach, it's been too long since the realm has had one. Say, mayhaps I shall make one the next time round?"
"A wise decision, Your Grace," said the King's Hand. Alicent saw the way her father smiled a genuine smile, a rare thing in King's Landing. "We shall make it a point of discussion for the next small council meeting."
"Good man." The king turned to Rhaenyra. "When you return, we shall have a great feast, and hopefully a new knight of the Kingsguard as well."
"I look forward to it, Father," Rhaenyra said. "And I'm sure the Crone will give you wisdom and Ser Jeffory good counsel when you make your decision."
"I'm sure they will." Then the king gave Rhaenyra a final kiss on the cheek and turned to all those assembled within the outer bailey. "Shall we give them a grand sendoff?"
A tumult of cheers rose from the king's court, and a fanfare of brazen trumpets filled the air as the king signaled for the Red Keep's portcullises to be raised. Alicent gave her father and both brothers a kiss on the cheek in farewell, then turned to follow Rhaenyra into the carriage. The princess was on the steps when a renewed shout of excitement rang from the crowd, and all eyes turned to the gallery above. The queen was watching from above with Prince Baelon swaddled in her arms and the little hatchling on her shoulder. She smiled down at them and whispered something to the young prince. "For Prince Baelon!" one of the knights shouted, and others quickly took up the call. "For King Viserys, Queen Aemma, and Princess Rhaenyra!" Alicent looked throughout the cheering crowd from the steps leading to the carriage, and near the stables, she saw Prince Daemon mount a black monster of a destrier barded in gold, his face obscured by his helmet.
Those around him quickly gave way as the prince spurred his horse and thundered through the gates, the mounted contingent of gold cloaks close behind him. Alicent followed Rhaenyra into the carriage with Calla Celtigar and Jocelyn Reyne following behind. Then the steps were taken away, the door was shut, and the carriage lurched into motion. Through the windows they waved as they left the Red Keep, and for a moment Alicent forgot all her worries and simply laughed with her friends as they made their way down Aegon's High Hill, the people of King's Landing cheering for them all the way to the River Gate.
It was only after all of the royal progress was ferried over the Blackwater Rush, when the excitement had settled and the city was behind them, that Alicent realized that she would be spending the majority of the journey in the same carriage as Calla Celtigar.