🍃 || On a Progress

SUMMARY:

Viserys' family on a Royal Progress. Just mention in your chat which house and castle are they visiting. I basically just had a Stark OC and wanted to cram them in Winterfell lol.

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INTRO:

Trumpets rang, horses neighed and gerold announced: "Bow before His Grace King Viserys of house Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the First Men, and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm!" And men bowed—lords, knights and common men, mothers pushing children to their knee, guards clanking arms and armor when they bent, and noble sons and daughters took the knee as one. To the King! To the King, indeed...

Viserys Targaryen, First of His Name, stepped down the wheelhouse, clad in travel leather so finely intricate with gold, and crimson red thread, and rubies, he put to shame some highborn ladies' dresses! Viserys looked over his subjects—lords and ladies, knights and commoners—all sworn to him, and as gracious King, he smiled and raised his hand to them, and Crown of Conciliator gleamed in his thinning hair, with rubies red, sapphires blue, emeralds green and amethysts violet, on circlet of gold...

His wife is a contrasting presence, regal and rigid, Queen Alicent Hightower, stepped out of the wheelhouse, covered in ermine furs she tugged on, and her crown didn't glow as much - pale crystals on heavy yellow gold and silver.

"Smile, my love." The King nudged his wife, taking her hand, and her hand felt cold. "Blessed day, isn't it? Come, let us... not stand outside. Agh, my bones..."

"Of course, husband." And the Queen smiled, and Viserys didn't see that the smile is brittle - he never did. Holding his hand, Alicent stepped forth too, supporting him, as she has been for the last twenty years, as a wife should... in her green dress.

Helaena went after them, sweet, innocent Helaena and her royal children—delights of the Kingdom, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera and Maelor—unlike her mother, the Princess is smiling genuinely, guiding her younger son out of the carriage. How good it is - to be too strange for world's grievances—thought Queen Alicent, looking back at her daughter—*The only one truly happy to be here*. Here, away from home. Alicent bit her lower lip, taking a sharp breath that seemed to make her pendant prick a Star's point into her neck. Away from safety of familiar webs. Away from the spiders of her father, who could watch over them, here, to rely only on the loyal guards in white... the Queen exchanged looks with her sworn sword - ser Criston Cole.

Behind the Royal Wheelhouse are the King's sons, who, per tradition, would arrive on mounts, though Aegon would prefer the carriage - wine on his breath makes it obvious the prince has been indulging yesterday. Can't help it if the road is fucking boring as a septa's skirt. "Fuckin' horse..." Prince Aegon rubbed his eyes, halting his white stallion. In truth, he loves his horse, he just loves Sunfyre more. "why did we need to go here?" He jerked his head around, looking at Daeron, the little brother, because he knows better than to try and have a conversation with Aemond. "Castle, fucking hurrah, we have a castle, it's called the Red bloody Keep!—" Prince Aegon dismounted, trying to adjust his heavy gold-lined mantle. "ugh, I miss Sunfyre..."

"And I miss Tessarion." Prince Daeron, the young, proper, handsome, not suffering a hangover prince, hopped off his mare with greater ease - a stark black steed, who's coat sheens with blue... fucker got himself a horse Tessarion—Aegon snorted at the thought, oh come on, it's funny!—wearing blue himself... so much blue, he might as well be posing for an Arryn. "But Father asked—"

"Father—!" Aegon interjected, popping open a deerskin with wine, the propriety. "—bah! You know as well as I, he didn't ask, he pleaded." The prince gulped down Arbor Gold and offered his brother in a rare moment of solidarity. Daeron refused. "Thinks we'll slaughter each other, if we have dragons. What does he think we are, fucking animals?"

Aemond raised one brow. No expression more, no less. He dismounted in silence, tugging at the gilded sword on his hip. Aemond's garb is blood red, Targaryen as it can be. Aegon merely scoffed and took another chug to ignore the presence of his brother, sauntering off to join his parents. Alicent is not going to scold him with so many eyes drawn. Good. That's the only good thing about this damn Progress, otherwise it's a waste of time. "Lord Whoever better have good wine..." The eldest prince muttered, hiding his own stash under his mantle.

And White Cloaks following them. And even more Red Cloaks too. God, this can make a man go blind for color, all this cloak billowing.

Princess Rhaenyra, though, oh, the Realm's Delight is wearing enough gold to break her own neck and enough purple to make Braavos weep in jealousy. Radiant Rhaenyra, so effortlessly beaming where her stepmother is cloaked in green shadow. Good. The Princess stepped out of her own wheelhouse, ostentatious and vain, with something scarier than a dragon behind her - Daemon, the Rogue Prince, in a strict black doublet and crimson cloak, but his fingers steeped on the pommel of Dark Sister.

"You look radiant, love." The Rogue Prince whispered into Rhaenyra's ear, snapping his teeth, like a dragon. "Better than some."

"Behave." The Princess responded, playfully but seriously. "Strict suits you..." She tugged at Daemon's sleeve. "makes me forget how old you are."

Daemon laughed. From her. From anyone else - Dark Sister would laugh instead. Taking her under his arm, he went join his brother Viserys and Viserys' brood, and Daemon felt no weeping bones breaking his stride. Behind them went Rhaenyra's five sons—three of her Velaryon lads, dressed as sharp as Sea Snake's saber, on Sea Shake's silver: black doublets, teal cloaks, all laced with silver, fringed with gold and woven with sapphires; and two of her Targaryen boys, Aegon and Viserys, bright and clad in red. Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey, as always when forced to co-exist with their uncles, keep together and keep appearances better - backs straight, chins high. However, their brothers younger, those with bright silver hair of Daemon Targaryen, they keep tugging at them now and again. Especially Jace. Aegon and Viserys love their older brother. And with them all - Daemon's twin beauties: Baela, arrogant and prideful, unafraid to show riding boots in slits of her travel skirt and gleam of dagger at her hip, and Rhaena, gentle, holding herself with patience of the Seven to not comment.

"I already hate it..." Baela muttered.

"Then suffer in dignity, sister." Rhaena hissed back, fanning herself.

"Think there's some highborn ladies with a spine here?" Baela the Brave isn't called that for backing down easy. She jerked her head, making her short cropped hair jump out of her eyes. "Or lads worth looking at?"

Rhaena didn't dignify that with a response.

And here gathered the mighty house Targaryen! King Viserys and his vast family. Time for proper reception. The King gestured the host to rise.