'Rest is for the wasted!'
-From the play 'The Red Prince,' performed by the Mummers Guild.
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Three dragons.
.Three riders.
..Dic heads soared above King's Landing.
Physically, they numbered six; spiritually, they were three.
They glide through the sky in a tiered formation, each dragon and rider following the next in angular alignment.
\Rhaenyra on top
.\Daemon below
..\Rhaenar in the middle.
The sun's angle was such that their shadows didn't touch the city below.
Instead, they craft a striking pattern against the blue expanse.
Shades differ as wings flap. Sky transitioning from pale blue to light blue.
Bounced upon the reflection of sun against scales of red and yellow and gold.
Their scales bathed in light on dawn.
Syrax, Sundance, and Caraxes gleaned in such a way that the light fixated upon them.
Together, they radiated a circular glow of colors that resembled a crude, albeit delightful, rainbow.
And indeed, the colors started from light to magnificent to dark.
A chiaroscuro, one part bright, and one part shadow. The third you could not understand.
At length, they reared around the city and behind Rhaenys hill, where the VIP entrance tunnels for Targaryens to land and park their dragons were found.
They landed, and the dragonkeepers worked to desaddle and house Syrax and Caraxes.
Sundance, however, flew away the moment Prince Rhaenar dismounted.
Prince Daemon raised a brow, "Where's he going?"
Princess Rhaenyra sighed, "Sundance is not one for the dragonpit."
"Oh?" Daemon said.
"Worry not, uncle," Prince Rhaenar said. He stretched to loosen his muscles after the brief flight.
"He flies where the heart leads," Rhaenar said
"Rest assured, he doesn't prey on livestock beyond jurisdiction. He comes and goes as please, landing this keep and that. Each Lord and House host at their own volition. I allow Sundance his freedom. No, rather, he takes his own. He sticks close and returns when I need him. So it goes."
Daemon studied Rhaenar's eyes, unable to shake the feeling that his nephew had uncovered some ancient lore that explained his remarkably adept understanding of dragons.
A hidden connection.
It seemed as though the bond between Rhaenar and Sundance only grew stronger with time, or it was timeless, blurring the line between their intellects.
Was Sundance intelligent due to Rhaenar's endless study of texts, or was Rhaenar's ability to decipher such arcane knowledge due to the inherent wisdom in the dragon's amber eye?
Regardless, it wasn't long before squads of Rhaenari made their way to the dragonpit.
Red capes did not flutter from their shoulders, as was customary for the Rhaenari legion on campaign.
Nor were shields forever attached to their left forearm.
Instead, these Rhaenari were clad in light steel greaves and shin guards. Their torsos armored with breastplate that chiseled god-like abs on their stomach.
This was the light armored system the Rhaenari employed while within cities. An urban attire of sorts.
Regardless of their choice of weaponry, a black obsidian dagger always hung at their waist, symbol of resolve and manhood.
A strapping lad with broad shoulders and piercing brown eyes stepped forward among the troop. Dirty blonde hair shone bronze in the sunlight that matched sun-kissed, worker-class skin.
It was his wicked smile that earned him the moniker 'Dirty Douglas'.
"Prince Rhaenar," Douglas smirked, "Back so soon."
Princess Rhaenyra couldn't help but flinch at that.
'So soon?' she thought. 'How recently has Rhaenar been in King's Landing?'
"As soon as need be," Rhaenar replied firmly.
"Fortunate," Douglas said, his ascent fleabottom tough, commoner yet taking care with his words toward his prince and commander, "Lords have arrived. Much sooner than we thought. Big lords and small. The plan must start—"
"Yes," Rhaenar affirmed. "And that early start benefits from my presence. I understand. Now then, how about we retire to the Red Keep?"
Thus, Rhaenar, Rhaenyra, and Daemon, Princess and Prince's of Dragonstone, strolled casual through King's Landing.
The smallfolk recognized Rhaenar from the countless times he had walked the streets in his youth.
They knew the men of the escorting legion, tough and rugged natives of the capital, who, like Rhaenar, had grown up in King's Landing and possessed a similar urban intelligence.
They shared a grim outlook toward the countless masses they encountered each day, that with so many people, it was only a matter of time before you encountered a madman. And the smartest of those ensured they remained hidden.
Hidden madness, the worst of its kind~
Thus, they were always prepared to navigate through the trouble that arose, their eyes wide, flicking left to right, beaming with clear message of 'DON'T FUCK WITH ME'.
Prince Rhaenar gently took his sister's soft hand and led her and Daemon through the city to the walls of the Red Keep.
As they approached, the guards caught sight of his face and preemptively opened the gate, perfectly timed for their arrival.
A festive energy filled the air as they entered the front courtyard.
Nobles, knights, and servants gathered, and Rhaenar chuckled at his sister and uncle.
"It seems our impromptu return calls for court theatrics," he remarked.
Rhaenar strode forward ahead of them, and Daemon, recognizing what was happening, extended his elbow.
"So it is," he said, as Princess Rhaenyra smiled up at her tall, strong uncle, locking arms with him.
Together, uncle and niece strode forward, their eyes locked on the back of Prince Rhaenar.
Entering the great hall, they found it a dull affair, having arrived so early.
Only the most dedicated nobles had gathered, hastily assembled in their best garbs.
King Viserys, their liege and father to Rhaenar and Rhaenyra, brother of Daemon, sat upon the Iron Throne, a smug smile on his face as he greeted the gathering of Targaryen spirits.
"Be welcome, my family," King Viserys said, his chin raised curiously, his nostrils flaring.
"You three smell of bonfire and dragonback."
Prince Daemon stepped forward, taking it upon himself to explain.
"Guilty as charged, your grace. We set a pyre upon the shore and watched till it burned."
That would explain the smoky odor.
King Viserys glanced at his two children, and together between their uncle, almost as if a mirror of, only they were brother and sister, they shrugged in unison that would make one assume they were the same people.
Or maybe because Rhaenyra and Rhaenar smirked in that same playful way that Prince Daemon did.
Either way, Viserys could not help but feel swell pride toward his family, and great wonder in the dragon's blood.
Even if he feared the radical that came with the dragon's bond.
"Then be welcome and free to rest," King Viserys said.
King Viserys glanced at his children, noting the bags beneath their eyes.
"With pleasure," Rhaenar said with a heavy sigh.
And together he and Rhaenyra and Daemon bowed before their king before hastily retiring from the great hall throne room.
With that, King Viserys also turned and raised to exit the throne room.
Despite his efforts to appear regal and welcome his beloved family in front of the court, now that it was done, there was much to do in preparation for celebrations to come.