Chapter Text
now
Alicent,
Viserys passed this morning. Wanted to tell you before the press release goes out.
Funeral’s this Friday, details are below.
She’ll be too proud to invite you, but I know Dad would have liked for you to have been there.
I would too, for the record.
Aegon
***
“I mean, who just sends — who just sends an email like that?” Alicent wipes away at her tears, shaking her head. Her phone is making it hard to scroll to show Lyra the email because her tears are making the fucking screen confused, and it’s making her even more pissed off.
This is the first time Lyra is seeing Alicent cry, and it’s only been a month, and it’s because of Rhaenyra, which is a concept that pisses Alicent off even more because someone literally has died and Rhaenyra is the only one Alicent can think about.
“I’m sorry, love,” Lyra says, wrapping an arm around Alicent’s shoulder. “What can I do?”
Alicent leans her head into Lyra’s shoulder. “This is fine.”
Lyra tightens her arm around Alicent’s shoulder. “Are you going to go?”
“No,” Alicent says firmly, sniffling loudly, shaking her head, “absolutely not—”
***
Lyra drops her off at the airport the next morning with a tea and a kiss to the cheek.
(The tea is a nice gesture, but Alicent throws it out pretty much immediately, because liquids aren’t allowed on planes, and she absolutely does not have time to sip at tea unless she wants to be late for her flight.)
***
The whole reason Alicent flies first class is for the comfort of it all. She’s paying top dollar specifically because flying first class means you get to rest, because you get to have a wide berth of space, specifically to be left alone.
Which is exactly why Alicent has half a mind to ask someone in economy to switch seats when she boards and sees Criston fucking Cole sitting two seats ahead of her assigned spot.
“Gods.” She grumbles it audibly, because Criston’s signature shit-eating grin is plastered on his face, meaning he saw her first, meaning he has the upper fucking hand.
“Of all the planes,” Criston says.
New York to England during peak travel season, so not really.
Criston is a very specific kind of pathetic man — you’d have to be, if the most interesting thing about you is that you shagged two women who ended up dating, then breaking up — and oh, he’s just loving this.
“No. No, thank you.” Alicent says, shaking her head and walking past him, ignoring him because that’s all she can do, really.
“Funeral, too, then?”
Alicent closes her eyes — of course — sighs. Turns. “…You were invited to the funeral?”
“Aemond invited —”
“Right. Well. See you there.”
Before he can respond, she’s putting her massive headphones on. One of the flight attendants looks like she’s about to tell Alicent off for having headphones on during the safety demonstration, but the look Alicent gives her is so dark that the flight attendant looks to the right of Alicent and pretends she was doing something else instead.
The eye-mask goes on, too. For good measure.
She barely sleeps — hardly takes the eye-mask off, because she’s scared that if she does, he’ll be looking right at her.
***
She all but tries to race off of the plane, away away away, but of course —
“We’re going to the same place,” Criston says, a little breathless from clearly having jogged this way. Alicent looks at him with as much contempt as she can muster, which only seems to spur him on. “Save some cab fare with me?”
“I’ve a car already waiting for me,” she says shortly, not stopping or slowing.
“That’s great. I was going to take a taxi.”
“That’s nice. See you there.”
She hears rather than sees him scoff at her when he stops following.
Asshole.
Such an asshole, in fact, that he’s managed to make her forget that, by running away from him, she is running towards Rhaenyra. It’s a thought that stops her in her tracks.
“…Miss Hightower?”
There’s a driver staring at her, and he has ALICENT HIGHTOWER scribbled on his whiteboard, and what is she going to do — turn around and fly back to New York?
Well…
Oh, come off it.
She smiles.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Also, it’s raining so much that Alicent’s clothes are already soaked, and she hates it here -
“That’s me. Thank you.”
then
Alicent’s roommate is a Targaryen. Rhaenyra Targaryen, AKA the daughter of Viserys Targaryen, AKA the founder and CEO of the multi-billion-trillion-however-the-fuck-many-illion dollar conglomerate slash empire that is the Targaryen multinational investment bank, is her uni roommate.
Alicent’s roommate is Rhaenyra Targaryen, and Rhaenyra Targaryen has an easy smile, a burning charisma that could potentially level the entirety of the continent of Europe, and a voice that would almost certainly be able to convince entire armies to run off a cliff for her.
Alicent’s roommate is Rhaenyra Targaryen.
And Rhaenyra Targaryen is really, really fit.
***
She’s a good roommate, too. She’s polite, tidy, and brings back Alicent’s clothes from the laundry room when she forgets them in the dryer (at least twice a month) for her. They get on stunningly well, terrific banter, et cetera, et cetera. All of the boxes are ticked.
It's nice.
It's really nice.
***
Alicent’s also fairly certain Rhaenyra’s not straight — she was too surprised to ask Rhaenyra to clarify it, but Rhaenyra referred to how her best friend Laena is actually also her ex, and Alicent is at least 90% sure she did, but it’s weird to ask someone to clarify something like that, so she never does. Not that it matters in the end, because —
“Holy Gods -”
“Wh - fucking shit, Alicent -!”
Alicent is tired as all hell after studying for her economics midterm, and her feet are sore from walking all over campus, and she was so excited to go to bed, and what the actual fuck is wrong with you Rhaenyra.
She clocks what’s happening approximately .5 seconds after unlocking the door. The unmistakable noise of a breathy moan. Then, the unmistakable sight of some girl, completely naked on her back, in the throes of absolute ecstasy (which, honestly, overdoing it much), her hands balled up in silver hair, Rhaenyra’s head bobbing between her legs before she almost falls off the bed upon hearing Alicent, the girl scrambling to cover herself —
Alicent spins back out to the hall, shuts the door behind her, her hand over her eyes, her heart pounding —
I mean, that looked —
The girl takes forever to leave, so Alicent cracks the door open.
“Any day now, please,” she says, exasperated, heart still pounding —
Hot. That looked…really fucking hot.
I am…so tired.
“Sorry, sorry,” the girl says, not meeting Alicent’s eyes as she squeezes through the gap in the door and scurries away like a little mouse.
Alicent goes in, jaw set. Rhaenyra looks positively sheepish, which is sort of unexpected, actually — Alicent had been expecting the whole fuckboy proud of their latest lay act from her.
“Beyond sorry, Alicent,” Rhaenyra says, shaking her head. “Thought I texted you, but — sorry you saw that. Really.”
Alicent frowns and reaches in her pocket for her phone.
Rhaenyra Said you’re off studying all night, right?
Rhaenyra Hope it’s going alright xx
Rhaenyra Think I might be having someone over.
Rhaenyra In our room. If that’s alright.
Alicent sighs.
“Didn’t see that. I was studying,” Alicent says, throwing her phone on her bed, hanging her bag off one of the hooks. “My bad, as well.”
They sit on their beds, Rhaenyra’s normally-immaculate long hair a mess, and it smells like sex in here.
“I’m…going to go wash up,” Rhaenyra mutters, and she opens the window and steps into their shared bathroom.
Alicent can’t stop thinking about the sight of those hands in Rhaenyra’s hair that night.
Or most other nights, really.
***
Alicent is at a party and drunk, very drunk, and Criston Cole is there, and he’s eager and willing and probably will finish in, like, seventeen seconds like last time, but still; Alicent’s been in a months-long dry spell, and yes, she’s at least 99.99% certain she’s fully, completely a lesbian — but sex is sex is sex, and Alicent is drunk, she’s very drunk, and she really, really wants to get laid.
Rhaenyra’s out at some other party on campus tonight, so her room is empty; they’re on her bed, and he’s starting to dry-hump her. Criston is all beer breath and chapped lips and too much tongue and okay, maybe I don’t actually want this —
“Wait,” she breathes, feeling really hot and overwhelmed all of a sudden, and Criston does, but his hands still wander as he’s on top of her, and she can feel how hard he is through his jeans and okay, no, actually, I don’t want to.
“Stop.”
“What?” Criston mouths at her neck.
Alicent shoves at him. “I don’t want to anymore.”
“Wh-”
Suddenly, panic. He isn’t even doing anything, but she feels kind of suffocated all of a sudden, and he’s being slow and drunk and she absolutely does not want this —
“Get off of me —”
Criston looks dazed, confused. “Alicent, what the fuck -”
And suddenly, the lights are on, and Criston is off of her fast — really fast, actually, faster than she would have expected — but then Alicent sees that Rhaenyra’s got her hand firmly fisted in the back of his shirt, and Rhaenyra’s pulling him off of Alicent, and Rhaenyra is a lot stronger than Alicent thought she would be.
“Get the fuck off of her!” Rhaenyra roars, pushing him away, and Criston’s hands are up, and he’s glaring at Rhaenyra.
“Seven Hells, Rhaenyra,” he says, steadying himself with Alicent’s bedpost. Alicent is sitting up, staring, drunk.
Rhaenyra shoves at his chest. "I will call the fucking coppers —"
“Ease up!" Criston laughs, ugly, incredulous, "Is this because of our thing? Because -”
Rhaenyra points a finger towards the door. “Out!”
Criston looks at Alicent like are you seeing this right now?, And Alicent just shrugs like not my problem, even though it kind of is. He scoffs, and leaves, talking about crazy cunts and never again and Alicent might actually kiss Rhaenyra right now to thank her.
Rhaenyra is in front of Alicent, eyes wild with concern, and Rhaenyra is Alicent’s roommate, and Gods, Rhaenyra is so fucking fit and I'm too drunk for this.
“Alicent? Are you alright?”
“Um.” Alicent frowns, then clocks why she’s feeling so weird.
(Or, at least, her empty stomach, probably wondering why in the name of the Seven Hells she’s decided to drink on an empty stomach, tells her why.)
“…No.”
Minutes later, she’s vomiting into their toilet, Rhaenyra holding her hair up. A little after that, Rhaenyra’s passing her ice-cold water and a capful of mouthwash.
Alicent rises unsteadily, Rhaenyra guiding her upwards. “Thanks. Sorry.”
“No need. He’s the fucking worst.” Rhaenyra’s hand on Alicent’s back, rubbing gentle circles.
“You know him?” Alicent swishes the mouthwash in her mouth, thoroughly as possible.
“Well. I mean. Yeah. Did you not hear him?”
Alicent spits the mouthwash out in the sink and turns to face Rhaenyra, wide-eyed.
“Wait—I thought he was talking about how he and I — once -”
“- You’ve fucked him before?!”
“You’ve fucked him?!”
They stare at each other, and burst out laughing at the exact same time.
“I mean,” Rhaenyra says, holding her stomach, “it lasted, like, a minute before -”
“— Same.”
Laughter, again, this time with some tears — Alicent laughs so hard she thinks she might throw up again, so she quickly stops, hovers over the toilet once more, Rhaenyra moving to lift her hair again like it’s second-nature to care for her.
“…No. Nope. False alarm,” Alicent mutters, leaning back. Rhaenyra lets go of her hair, gently cards her fingers through it before withdrawing.
“Let’s get you to bed, darling,” Rhaenyra murmurs, and she doesn’t really have to guide Alicent to her bed — Alicent isn’t so far gone that she has no sense of direction or balance — but Alicent likes that she’s holding her kind of possessively. Alicent likes that her hand is firmly on her waist.
Alicent is, however, far gone enough to say her next sentence. “I thought you were a lesbian.”
Rhaenyra barks out a laugh as Alicent lies back in her bed. Without thinking, Alicent wriggles out of her jeans, because fuck sleeping in jeans, even if she was the drunkest person alive she wouldn’t sleep in jeans. She doesn’t miss Rhaenyra’s eyes widening slightly, Rhaenyra quickly and sheepishly looking away.
Rhaenyra Targaryen is sheepish. Who would have thought it.
Rhaenyra gently covers Alicent with the blanket.
“…I like sex,” Rhaenyra says simply, awkwardly patting Alicent’s shoulder before stepping back. “Doesn’t quite matter what the involved parts are.” She pauses. “Unless it’s Criston Cole. Never again.”
“Oh.” Alicent shifts her head on her pillow, draws her blanket up further. “…I am.”
“You’re what.”
“A lesbian.”
“…Oh.”
“Mhm.” It’s dark. “‘Night, Rhaenyra.”
“…Goodnight, Alicent.”
now
“What in the Gods’ name are you talking about -?!”
“Ma’am, please lower your voice -”
“- I’ve just come off of a seven-hour flight,” Alicent snaps, still sopping wet, “and you’ve made a dog’s dinner out of my hotel reservation, which I have paid an exorbitant amount for, don’t tell me to lower my voice —”
***
They manage to find her a room for the night on the fourth floor. Double bed.
Just this one night — someone else had a cancellation. Otherwise, the hotel is sold out.
I, Alicent thinks to herself, angrily throwing her luggage on the bed, am going to specifically set aside time and money to personally ruin this blasted hotel.
***
Once again, she barely sleeps, but she could swear it’s because of this room. She’d asked for a deluxe suite, king-sized bed, extra pillows, and now she’s on the side of the building where there’s construction happening next door, and she might actually die of sleep deprivation before she even makes it to the funeral.
In the morning, Alicent puts just enough effort in to make herself look nice without it bordering on the perverse, because no one should try that hard to look good for a funeral. Black slip that goes past her knees, black cardigan, black heels. And just a tiny bit of makeup, because otherwise, people might think she’s a ghoul. That’s the only reason why.
(Not that it even matters, because it won’t stop raining, and despite the efforts of her and her umbrella, Alicent looks just about as much of a wet dog as everyone else there.)
***
At the funeral, Alicent cries a little when Aegon goes up there and tells a story of how Viserys took him and Aemond fishing and Aemond fell in the water. Her eyes keep falling upon the back of Rhaenyra’s head. Rhaenyra doesn’t go up to speak, so Alicent doesn’t even really see her face. Maybe she can get away with it. Maybe she can go this entire time without actually looking at Rhaenyra, so that she doesn’t have to talk to her, she doesn’t have to —
***
“You think you’re being sneaky?”
At the reception, which takes place at Viserys' massive mansion, Alicent is staring intently at a portrait of Viserys standing and smiling with Aegon, Aemond and Rhaenyra at his side. It's one of those gaudy, professional portraits, $5,000 a shot, probably, and Rhaenyra still looks fucking beautiful. When she whirls around, Rhaenyra still looks fucking beautiful.
“...Sneaky?”
“Every time I think you’ve seen me,” Rhaenyra says, smirking (fucking smirking). “I blink, and you’ve gone to—fuck knows where.” She nods at Alicent. “Sneaky.”
Oh, fuck you and your easy charm, you’re still so bright like the sun, how could anyone look this good during a funeral after being absolutely pissed on with rain — “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.” Rhaenyra is holding a wine glass in her hand, long hair in tresses. She looks around the house. “Gods, this place is so fucking gaudy. Can’t wait to sell it off.” She takes a sip of wine, and Alicent wills herself to tear her eyes away from the slight lip-print it leaves on the edge, because nope —
“…How are you doing, Alicent?”
“Well, thank you.” Alicent clears her throat. “And you?”
Rhaenyra’s lips curve into a smile as her eyes openly flit up and down Alicent’s body. “Better now.”
No. Not falling for this. Not going to ease back into it like it’s all normal, not going to let myself —
***
Alicent ends up being the last person there. Aegon, Aemond and Criston have gone to get drunk somewhere, and the housekeeper has finished up early tonight because of the rain. Laena leaves with a kiss to Alicent’s cheek and a warning glance to Rhaenyra that Alicent probably wasn’t supposed to see, but does anyway. It’s just them.
“Gods, it’s really coming down,” Rhaenyra mutters as she sits back down on the sofa upon topping off Alicent’s glass.
Alicent has stayed firmly in place on the sofa, but each time Rhaenyra stands and sits back down, it feels like she sits closer and closer.
And yes, Alicent doesn’t want her to stop, but what the fuck is happening right now—
“… I miss him,” Rhaenyra admits quietly. “I will miss him. But…I can’t help but feel a strange sense of relief." She doesn't meet Alicent's eyes — it's recognizable, this version of Rhaenyra; the shy one. The one afraid of how she may be perceived. It's rare. "Does that make me terrible?”
Alicent hums. “No. I think…I think that’s perfectly normal, Rhaenyra. I mean, when someone is sick for as long as he was — how long was he sick for?”
“Two years.”
“Right. Awfully long time.” Faintly, Alicent thinks back to what she was doing two years ago —
Leaving this place, actually, now that she thinks about it.
Leaving Rhaenyra.
Alicent freezes midway to lifting her glass to her lips.
“...Rhaenyra?”
“Hm?”
“When did you find out he was sick?”
Rhaenyra purses her lips, seems to suddenly be rather interested in the contents of her own glass, and Alicent feels her blood run cold.
“Rhaenyra -?”
“Oh—who knows,” Rhaenyra mutters.
“Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra sighs, closes her eyes.
“…Day before you left.”
Seven Fucking Hells. Alicent rises, quickly, from her spot.
“…No.”
“Just — sit back down —”
“Why didn’t you tell me -?!”
“You’d broken up with me the week before,” Rhaenyra says simply, not rising from her own spot, acting as casual as ever.
“Are you— are you absolutely joking?” Alicent barks. “I — I would have stayed, I would have -”
“And then what?” Rhaenyra says, laughing incredulously, and Alicent cannot believe she’s laughing right now, what the fuck — “You’d already taken the job. Your flight was booked. Your shit was packed -”
Alicent throws her hands in the air, setting her glass down and turning to leave. “Oh, this is so f—typical — I shouldn’t have stayed, I shouldn’t have come here -”
“Typical?!”
“Yes, typical!” Alicent says, spinning right back around. “I — I see you, and right away I forget myself, I forget about all of it, I forget about everything bad that’s ever happened to me, and you — you lure me in —”
“Good to see you’re about as dramatic as always —”
Alicent takes a step forward, pointing her finger at Rhaenyra.
“Stop,” she hisses, “interrupting me.”
Rhaenyra opens her mouth, to which Alicent doubles down on her glare, to which Rhaenyra shuts her mouth and gestures for Alicent to carry on. Alicent, upon re-gathering her bearings, realizes that she actually didn’t have anything else she wanted to say.
Shit.
“I’m — I’m calling my driver,” she mutters instead of trying to find anything else to say, storming over to her purse and fumbling for her phone.
“Alicent…”
“Leave me alone.”
As she unlocks her screen, she hears Rhaenyra sigh behind her. She has a few messages —
Three from Lyra:
Lyra Hi xx
Lyra Haven’t heard from you yet so wanted to check in
Lyra Not to be the biggest creep but I did look up your flight to make sure. xx
Two from Gwayne:
Gwayne Do NOT.
Gwayne Fuck Rhaenyra Targaryen.
Which Alicent immediately swipes on to hide from her notifications, quickly looking to check if Rhaenyra’s right behind her (she isn’t).
And a voicemail from her driver Aelric.
Alicent frowns at this last one — she’s about to open it up to listen when suddenly, her phone fucking blares out an alarm even though her ringer’s turned off, and she hears another equally loud blare from the living room, where Rhaenyra is.
She looks down at her phone.
EMERGENCY ALERT: FLASH FLOOD WARNING
Severe flooding is occurring in your area. Seek higher ground immediately and stay indoors. Do not attempt to travel or cross flooded roads. Follow instructions from local authorities.
Alicent gapes at her screen. Closes her eyes.
No.
Fuck.
No.
then
Things change between them after that night — the one where Alicent vomits in their toilet and Rhaenyra tucks her in and Alicent drunkenly comes out to her.
They don’t really talk about it— not much to talk about, really — but things change.
Rhaenyra starts to bring Alicent tea most mornings, and it’s always got one sugar and a splash of milk in the way Alicent likes. Rhaenyra hates the dining hall (which — who doesn’t), so she gets takeout often, and when she does, she always orders something extra for Alicent. Rhaenyra makes Alicent go for walks around campus with her when Alicent’s been hunched over her desk studying for too long. Rhaenyra brings Alicent water when she thinks she hasn't been drinking enough throughout the day (she probably hasn't).
Notably, Rhaenyra also doesn’t bring people around, anymore — but there are nights she doesn’t come back in.
Rhaenyra Room to yourself tonight. x
Alicent Oh?
Rhaenyra ;)
And Alicent stares down at her screen, imagines those hands in Rhaenyra’s hair again, what it would be like to have Rhaenyra’s head between her legs, and her hands in Rhaenyra's hair —
***
They start watching movies together. Always on Rhaenyra’s bed, always with some fancy projector set-up she bought online; they hang a white sheet up on Alicent’s side of the wall as their screen. They make popcorn. Rhaenyra brings wine.
Rhaenyra brings really good wine. The kind that two uni students have no business drinking.
“My dad’s obsessed with the stuff,” she says simply when Alicent literally moans aloud at the taste of this one specific Chardonnay that’s so incredibly delicious and juicy, and she would be self-conscious for it if not for how Rhaenyra smiles at her.
“You can sleep, if you want, you know,” Rhaenyra says quietly one night, when Alicent’s falling asleep halfway through the movie. Alicent realizes moments after she nods and places her head on Rhaenyra’s shoulder that Rhaenyra probably meant in her own bed, but Rhaenyra doesn’t say anything otherwise, or protest.
Slowly, Rhaenyra’s hand rises, rests on Alicent’s leg. Slowly, Alicent moves her hand so that it covers Rhaenyra’s. Slowly, Rhaenyra’s hand turns so that it’s palm-up, and they’re holding hands, and Alicent is resting on Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and there is no way she’s falling asleep, now.
***
More mornings than not, she wakes up in Rhaenyra’s bed, Rhaenyra curled around her, or Alicent curled around Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra is a fucking furnace, though, so most of the time Alicent has to wake her up to get her to shove over a bit, like Rhaenyra’s a pillow with a cool side, or something. Rhaenyra does, each time. She turns over, Alicent holds her. Alicent turns over, Rhaenyra holds her.
Alicent’s pretty sure she knows what’s happening. She also isn’t completely sure of what’s happening. Either way, it’s nice.
It’s nice when Rhaenyra walks Alicent to lecture. It’s nice when Rhaenyra beams up at Alicent when Alicent brings her these positively disgustingly rich chocolate-chip cookies from the café on campus. It’s nice when Alicent gets a nasty fucking cold one day and Rhaenyra brings her soup and medicine. It’s nice when they watch movies, and Rhaenyra’s holding her, and Rhaenyra’s fingers occasionally trace along the skin exposed between Alicent’s sweats and tank-top. And Alicent isn’t entirely sure how much longer she can take it.
***
It turns out that the answer is a full year.
Commendable, really.
They choose to be each other’s roommates for the next year. The conversation where they decide as such is about five seconds long.
“Got a form, asking for room preferences for second year,” Alicent says upon entering their dorm, holding up the paper and opened envelope in her hand.
“Same,” Rhaenyra says.
They look at each other and smile, laugh.
***
Rhaenyra’s half-brother Aegon gets into uni that year, and Aegon parties to the point where Alicent feels a little nauseous thinking about the sheer volume of liquor he consumes on a daily basis.
(Functional alcoholism is a must in uni, he would say.)
He lives in a townhouse on campus with three other blokes — two of which are twin brothers, Erryk and Arryk (no, really, Aegon says, that’s really their names, and they’re really identical twins). They throw a beginning-of-the-year party there. Alicent and Rhaenyra go.
Alicent and Rhaenyra get shitfaced.
They dance, and they dance, and Rhaenyra hugs Alicent at one point and Alicent hugs her back and neither of them let go, not really even dancing at that point, just holding each other. Rhaenyra’s cheek grazes against Alicent’s, and Alicent closes her eyes, feels the warmth of Rhaenyra’s body pressed up against her, warm everywhere, especially —
“I want to go back,” Alicent says softly in Rhaenyra’s ear, backing away only slightly, their foreheads touching, Alicent fixated on Rhaenyra’s pretty mouth.
“To ours?”
“To ours.”
“Feeling alright?”
“Yes. Absolutely.”
Rhaenyra stares, and Alicent doesn’t back down.
“…Alright,” Rhaenyra says.
Irish goodbye. They walk hand-in-hand, about five minutes to their dorm building. Rhaenyra unlocks their door. Alicent follows her in. She doesn’t say anything — doesn’t even go to turn the lights on — she just tumbles into her bed, and Rhaenyra is standing there, and Alicent is reaching for Rhaenyra, sliding her hand on the covers like come here, please, come here.
The mattress dips when Rhaenyra settles herself beside Alicent, and Alicent is drunk but sobers pretty much immediately when she all but rolls on top of Rhaenyra and they’re kissing, Rhaenyra’s soft lips on hers, Rhaenyra’s hand reaching around her neck, Rhaenyra letting out the most delicious low groan when Alicent opens her mouth to deepen the kiss.
It’s heady, hot as fuck when Rhaenyra’s tongue gently swipes at Alicent’s lip and Alicent gasps, lets her in, and Rhaenyra groans low back into Alicent’s mouth when she licks into her. Rhaenyra rolls them over, and Alicent yelps slightly when she almost falls off of the edge of the bed, Rhaenyra laughing throatily, Alicent shoving at her playfully for laughing, giggling along with her — which is silenced pretty quickly when Rhaenyra descends on her again with a feverish mouth, hands starting to wander tentatively, which—
Alicent can’t have that, not tonight, so she drags Rhaenyra’s hand up to her breast, gasps aloud into Rhaenyra’s mouth when Rhaenyra squeezes. They’re sitting up all of a sudden, Alicent straddling Rhaenyra’s hips, Alicent crossing her arms to take her shirt off, Rhaenyra reaching behind her to undo her bra clasp, Rhaenyra kissing her neck, her collarbones, her breasts, her tongue running along —
“Oh, fuck.”
And Alicent is honest-to-god grinding against Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra encouraging the movement with her hands, saying do that again, yes, yes.
Alicent has always been perfunctory, efficient when it comes to sex — you make me come, I’ll make you come, done, goodnight — but right now, she’s pretty sure she could literally just grind against Rhaenyra all night. Like a teenager. From how enthusiastically Rhaenyra groans into her mouth, she feels the same.
Still, they’re both impatient, and Alicent realizes that she’s been patient for a year now, so Alicent more or less tears Rhaenyra’s shirt off and shucks it to the side somewhere, takes her bra off, exhaling heavy at the feeling of bare skin pressing against bare skin.
Rhaenyra all but throws Alicent back into her bed and she’s all tongue and teeth and grinding, and Alicent reaches down to undo the button of her own jeans, herself, because yes, she’s been patient but no more of that — Rhaenyra notices and stops her, moving down to undo them herself, the sound of the zipper absolutely deafening at this point. Kisses Alicent again. Alicent wants her to take her jeans off, but Rhaenyra’s hand is moving downwards, underneath the waistband of her jeans, over her underthings, which are already fucking soaked; Rhaenyra gasps into Alicent’s mouth, Alicent swallows it up, desperate, give it to me, give it to me, her hips jogging against Rhaenyra’s hand.
“Rhaenyra,” she whispers, and she thinks it’s probably the sound of Rhaenyra’s name in her mouth that does it — or, at least, she hopes it is — because Rhaenyra is lifting herself off of Alicent, standing up at the foot of the bed, and dragging Alicent’s jeans down with her underwear; Alicent sits up and shifts so that Rhaenyra is standing between her legs as she undoes Rhaenyra’s jeans, Rhaenyra’s chest panting deliciously at eye-level with each heaving breath. Alicent pushes Rhaenyra’s jeans and underwear down, too, and Rhaenyra’s kicking them off of herself, and Rhaenyra is crawling — crawling, which is literally the hottest fucking thing Alicent’s ever seen — above Alicent.
“You’re perfect,” Rhaenyra whispers, and Alicent wants her, wants her, wants her.
Their foreheads are touching when Rhaenyra touches her for the first time, the sound and feeling of Alicent’s arousal almost embarrassing her if not for the reverence in which Rhaenyra gazes down at her.
“Fucking—divine,” Rhaenyra gasps, before she’s slipping two fingers inside and swallowing Alicent’s moan with her mouth, their tongues sliding together — another, Alicent says, and Rhaenyra gives her another, and Alicent sees stars.
“Fuck me,” Alicent gasps, desperate fingers gripping tight in Rhaenyra’s hair. “Fuck me.”
And Rhaenyra does, bracing herself with an elbow by Alicent’s head, the hand below speeding up, curling, curling, until Rhaenyra finds that spot. The moan that comes out of Alicent is high-pitched, breathy, and Rhaenyra fucking smirks as she has the audacity to slow down, curling just right there, so slow, not fast enough for Alicent to come, and she knows it.
“What the—fuck, Rhaenyra,” Alicent whines, jogging her hips.
“Want this to last,” Rhaenyra murmurs into Alicent’s ear, nipping at her earlobe.
“Who said this was the last?”
Rhaenyra lifts her head to look down at Alicent with wonder in her eyes before that wonder is replaced with a devilish pleasure, and it’s enough — she fucks Alicent like she’s been wanting to do this her whole life, whispering things like yes, fuck, you’re so fucking hot, and then she says good girl, and Alicent did not know she liked being called a good girl until it makes her come so hard she might actually die for a moment. Like, actually die, actually transcend her own body.
Rhaenyra barely gives her a chance to come down before she moves down, leaving open-mouthed, sloppy kisses along her stomach, kissing Alicent down there with heat and fervor, eating her out and moaning like she’s the one getting fucked, and Alicent tangles her hands in Rhaenyra’s hair, and —
Right. Okay.
That girl from last year in Rhaenyra’s bed was not acting.
***
When Alicent wakes the next morning, deliciously sore, Rhaenyra is snoring slightly beside her.
“Shove over,” she mumbles, and Rhaenyra does, rolling over to her side. Alicent holds her from behind. She falls asleep again.
She wakes up again, and this time, Rhaenyra is holding her. She shifts slightly.
“Morning,” Rhaenyra murmurs into Alicent’s ear, and they’re both still naked, and Alicent’s awake enough now to remember last night, remember Rhaenyra making her come so many times that she actually isn’t sure of the exact number, and she shifts back, her ass pushing against Rhaenyra’s front, purposefully letting out a breathy little moan.
Rhaenyra chuckles low in her throat. Her hand travels downwards, downwards, downwards —
Yes. Fuck, Rhaenyra. Yes. Up a bit. Right there. I’m gonna come. Rhaenyra, I’m gonna —
Good girl, yes, come for me, you’re so fucking gorgeous, so pretty like this —
now
“I’m only staying tonight.”
“Whatever you say.”
“I’ll stay over — just tonight — and the rain will stop.”
“Alright.”
“Idiot. Idiotic. I saw the weather warning.”
“At least it isn’t as bad as the one from five years back — Laenor’s entire basement flooded, do you remember that?”
“Rhaenyra.”
“Alicent,” Rhaenyra says, her tone playful, lightly mocking. She just takes a little sip of her wine when Alicent throws her a glare.
The voicemail from Aelric was, as expected, one of deep and utmost apology; his engine had flooded in a matter of moments when the rain started pouring down without any mercy whatsoever. Aegon is staying with Aemond tonight, waiting out the storm.
“…Think I saw an erotic film with this premise, once,” Rhaenyra muses.
Alicent flushes red, all the way down to her toes.
Ignore her. Ignore her.
Stiffly: “I’d like to go to bed, please.”
“Oh—come on,” Rhaenyra says, rolling her eyes and groaning. Her head lolls back against the back of the sofa as she pats the spot beside her. “Promise I’ll stop being cheeky if you stay up a little longer.”
“Swear it?”
“Swear it.”
Still glaring, Alicent sets her purse down and sits beside Rhaenyra.
“…I wish you’d told me,” Alicent says, quietly, finally.
Rhaenyra sobers fast then, and Alicent can see her throat bob, which — which really shouldn’t be as sexy as it is, but it is, so she downs the rest of her wine.
“Might open up another bottle,” Rhaenyra murmurs, standing. “Guessing you still prefer a dry red?”
Alicent sighs, nods. Waits for Rhaenyra, looks around at the — yeah, pretty gaudy — house.
At least she’s stopped being a cheeky little—
“Voila.” Rhaenyra returns with two new glasses, held crossed and upside-down in one hand, her other hand holding a bottle of wine that —
“Seven hells—?” Alicent quickly reaches for the bottle, Rhaenyra grinning impishly as she hands it over. “Vintage Arbor wine, Rhaenyra?”
“My father’s wine cellar is excessive,” she says simply.
“…You mean extensive?”
“No.” Rhaenyra extends her hand — Alicent looks to see that Rhaenyra is holding a corkscrew to her. “Do the honours?”
“I mean -” Alicent shakes her head, genuinely in disbelief, because vintage wines from Arbor are nearly impossible to find these days. “I mean, we can’t — I can’t. We can’t, right?”
“Oh, please,” Rhaenyra says, bringing the corkscrew closer to Alicent. “Wine was created to be drunk. Anything else would be sacrilege. I’ll replace it tomorrow. Come on, now.”
“Well…” Alicent raises a brow, taking the corkscrew from Rhaenyra —
(And absolutely not noticing the honest-to-the-Gods electricity that rushes through her skin when they make contact, Rhaenyra absolutely not curving her fingers at the last minute so that more of her hand grazes against Alicent’s—)
— “If it’ll be sacrilegious.” She smirks up at Rhaenyra — no one has to know that she amps up the coyness just a little, just to see if Rhaenyra reacts, which she does, her nostrils flaring just the slightest bit. Alicent sets the bottle on the coffee table in front of them and uncorks it with a little pop. She lifts the cork to her nose, sniffs it. Fucking delicious.
“Oh, Gods above,” she says, reverently looking up to the skies, “I’m in heaven.”
Rhaenyra chuckles, sitting down beside Alicent (closer, again). “May I?”
Alicent passes Rhaenyra the bottle, picking up one of the empty glasses. Rhaenyra pours, Alicent watches, first the wine, then Rhaenyra’s eyes, which are looking right back at her before they quickly flit down again. Rhaenyra twists her wrist as she finishes the pour, not a single drop lost.
Alicent gestures for Rhaenyra to pass her the bottle, and she does the same in return.
(This time, she doesn’t look up, even though she literally feels like she’ll burn if she doesn’t).
“Cheers,” Rhaenyra murmurs, “to…the memory of my father.”
Alicent sobers slightly, eyes softening. “To Viserys.”
They clink glasses; Alicent swirls, Rhaenyra swirls, they both sniff, they both drink. It feels ritualistic. It feels good to be doing this with her again.
Rhaenyra lowers her glass, staring down at her glass after she does. “...Holy Seven.”
“That is — without a single doubt in my mind — the smoothest wine I’ve ever had.”
“Cheers to that.”
They laugh, taking sips again, savoring it.
They sit.
They look.
Alicent swirls her glass.
“…I wanted to, you know,” Rhaenyra murmurs. Alicent looks up and sees that Rhaenyra is now staring intently at her glass. “Tell you. But…I knew you would have come back if I did. Couldn’t do that to you. Not when you had to go.”
Give me some credit, here, please, Alicent wants to say, but she knows Rhaenyra’s right.
She would have changed her mind at the slightest hint of Rhaenyra even potentially wanting her to stay. She would have stolen a parachute off of the plane to jump off halfway if she somehow found out Rhaenyra wanted her to come back.
Rhaenyra has a tendency to make people want to do mad things like that.
Alicent swirls the wine in her glass, watches as it circles, circles, circles.
“So,” Rhaenyra says, brightening slightly, raising her eyebrows at Alicent. “How is it, then?”
“Hm?”
Rhaenyra scoffs. “Hm. What do you think? The job.”
It’s fine. It’s a job.
It wasn’t worth leaving.
It wasn’t worth leaving you.
I knew it wouldn’t be.
“It’s…incredible.”
Rhaenyra smiles wide — the kind of smile that is so painfully earnest, the kind that goes all the way to her eyes, the honest kind — and Alicent fucking hates it. She hates how genuinely happy Rhaenyra is for her. She hates how kind Rhaenyra is being. She wishes Rhaenyra would scream at her — call her names, maybe even slap her — that would be better than this.
Better than pretending as though the last time they saw each other, they weren't crying, Alicent and Rhaenyra standing in front of the door of their — Rhaenyra’s, now — flat, staring at each other, Alicent begging the Gods for the strength to ask Rhaenyra to come with her, begging for Rhaenyra to ask her to stay.
But Alicent was twenty-five, and the PR agency she worked for offered a transfer to their American offices, which would mean the subsequent skyrocketing of her career, and Alicent had never felt more insecure in her life, and her and Rhaenyra had been together since they were nineteen years old, and Rhaenyra was probably going to ask Alicent to marry her soon —
“I’m so glad, Alicent,” Rhaenyra says gently.
Alicent feels her eyes starting to mist the slightest bit, so she blinks and clears her throat.
“Need the loo,” she says abruptly, standing. When she gets to the bathroom, she looks up at the ceiling, dabs at the bottom of her eyes with a tissue —
This won’t mess up your makeup, she remembers her mum telling her.
Don’t let anyone see you like this, she remembers her father telling her. Don’t you fucking cry.
***
The guest room is more or less the same: sparse, as though Viserys had Googled “guest room interior design ideas” and told his designer to just go with that. Alicent stands by the bed as Rhaenyra appears at the door, holding a t-shirt in one hand, a disposable toothbrush in the other.
“Wasn’t sure if you still slept without bottoms -”
Oh, fuck off —
“- And I’m fairly certain this toothbrush was not used by Aegon to clean his football cleats -”
“Ew?”
“I’m kidding.” Rhaenyra shakes her head and holds the toothbrush and shirt out. “There you are, love.”
Alicent goes up to her and takes the shirt and toothbrush.
Looks at them in her hands.
Looks up at Rhaenyra.
Rhaenyra is looking back at her.
To be more exact, actually, Rhaenyra is looking down at Alicent’s lips, and when Alicent pokes the tip of her tongue out to wet them, Rhaenyra’s lips part — which is when Alicent realizes she’s looking at Rhaenyra’s lips, too.
“Thank you,” Alicent whispers, and no, she absolutely cannot, so she clears her throat and steps back. “Goodnight, Rhaenyra.”
Rhaenyra doesn’t have the gall to look disappointed, so she just smiles, instead. “Goodnight, Alicent.”
Alicent sees Rhaenyra’s hand twitch slightly, as though about to reach out, and please do it, please reach out, just give us the excuse, I've missed you, please —
But then, Rhaenyra leaves.
***
Alicent Hi! So sorry. Xx
Alicent Busy day.
Lyra Hi there x
Lyra Feels odd to ask how the funeral was, so…how are you doing?
Alicent Ha. I’m alright.
Alicent Just back at the hotel now. Knackered.
Gwayne’s best friend had set Alicent up with Lyra a month ago, so they barely even know each other, which, to Alicent, means it’s perfectly reasonable for her to decidedly not tell Lyra that she’s stranded at her ex’s father's house, with her ex, in the middle of the night.
Lyra Aw. Well get some sleep. Xx
Lyra Renly and I say hi.
Lyra sends a selfie of herself and her cat.
Alicent Cuties x ta
Lyra Xx
Lyra doesn’t even know about Rhaenyra, for the Gods' sake. They haven’t gotten to the ex talk part of their courtship yet. It simply hasn’t come up. Perfectly reasonable.
Okay, no.
It’s shitty.
I’ll tell her tomorrow.
Alicent grumbles and sits up in her bed, wearing Rhaenyra’s t-shirt, which she has utterly sworn to herself she will not sniff like a desperate ex. She shuffles down the stupidly long hall, towards the bathroom, walks past Rhaenyra’s bedroom door when she hears —
She hears sniffling. A muffled sob. So quiet that she’s fairly sure she might have just imagined it, but then, she hears it again.
I can’t help but feel a strange sense of relief, Rhaenyra had said of her father’s death, but her father has still died, and Rhaenyra is alone.
Alicent knocks gently.
A long silence.
“…Yes?”
Alicent opens the door, pokes her head in.
Rhaenyra's face is illuminated slightly by the hall light as she looks at Alicent, eyes red. Alicent goes in, closes the door behind her.
Rhaenyra stares before lying back down, turning on her side. Alicent settles underneath her sheets, wraps an arm around Rhaenyra’s middle.
Holds her as she cries.
then
“Fuck," Alicent breathes.
“Yeah.”
“I mean —”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
Rhaenyra chuckles, nosing at Alicent’s cheek. They haven’t left their dorm all day— takeout boxes are scattered about, and Alicent's wondering about the exact human capacity for getting fucked into one’s mattress before one actually dies.
Rhaenyra sighs, shifts. “Should probably —”
Alicent shakes her head, turns to capture Rhaenyra’s lips in hers again, swinging her leg so that she’s straddling her. Rhaenyra laughs and doesn't protest, kisses her back deep and hard.
Just one more time.
***
At some point that month, Alicent gets her period. Rhaenyra brings her a hot water bottle, chocolates, and an absolute promise to not veto any movie Alicent picks.
“Sense and Sensibility.”
“…Veto.”
A handful of popcorn thrown in Rhaenyra’s face, and pouty eyes, and Rhaenyra is grumbling as she looks it up.
She falls asleep with her head on Alicent’s lap within the hour. Alicent lets her.
***
Alicent helps Rhaenyra study for her Poli-Sci final —
Well, by help, it’s more —
“Who,” Alicent says in Rhaenyra’s ear, far sultrier than she has any right to be while talking about classicalism, “are the primary proponents of liberal classicalism?”
“Fuck — John Locke, and — ah — Adam…Adam—Stone?”
Alicent bites Rhaenyra’s shoulder, hard, and Rhaenyra jumps, gasping.
“Don’t know how good of an incentive that is for me to get them right,” Rhaenyra says through gritted teeth. Alicent, precariously balanced on top of Rhaenyra as Rhaenyra sits on her desk chair, stops her movements below Rhaenyra’s underwear.
Rhaenyra glares.
“Smith. Adam Smi -” a choked gasp as Alicent doubles down on speed.
“Good,” Alicent murmurs, smirking down at her. “Duverger’s Law?”
“Um — oh — plurality — two-party systems — oh, fuck this.” Rhaenyra growls as she pushes forward and carries Alicent to her bed, and studying kind of becomes a non-starter.
***
Rhaenyra, sheepish, coming back to their dorm, after about two months of doing that.
“…So.” She rocks back and forth on her heels.
Alicent looks up from her book, eyebrow raised. “…So?”
“Got asked out on a date tonight.”
Alicent sets her book down, her stomach tight all of a sudden. “Oh.”
Rhaenyra stands there, silently, watching Alicent.
“…Who?”
“Talyra. Was at one of Aegon’s stupid fucking—” she gestures with her hand, and Rhaenyra is so infrequently flustered that when she is, it’s excruciatingly endearing. “—mixer things.”
“Right.”
“Yeah.”
“…Alright.”
Rhaenyra rolls her eyes, moves to sit beside Alicent on her bed. “Can you say more than one word, please?”
“Yes.”
Rhaenyra shoves at her.
“Well — I don’t know, do I!” Alicent, realistically, thinks she might actually be sick if it turns out Rhaenyra’s been fucking other people this whole time, intends on fucking other people. “Have…have fun, I guess?”
“Alicent.”
“What.”
Rhaenyra sighs, clearly frustrated. “I don’t want to. Go on the date, that is.”
“…Oh.” Alicent looks down at her hands.
Rhaenyra ducks her head, forces Alicent to meet her eyes.
“I don’t want to go on dates. With anyone. Anyone else, I mean.”
“…Oh?”
“No.”
“Right. Well…me neither.”
Rhaenyra’s picking up Alicent’s book, folding down the page she’s on (which Alicent glares fiercely at her for) and placing it down before hovering over Alicent, grinning ear to ear. “Thank the Gods.”
And Rhaenyra kisses Alicent fully, and Alicent cradles Rhaenyra’s face in her hands, and it’s different, it’s different, it’s different.
It’s wonderful.
***
Rhaenyra goes back home for Christmas break. Alicent does not.
Gwayne He is NOT pleased.
Alicent Not my problem.
Gwayne You’re on a one-way jet plane to having your inheritance revoked.
Alicent See above text.
That’s the whole point. Alicent is in school to get a job of her own merit, not because she’s MP Otto Hightower’s daughter. Because if she’s MP Otto Hightower’s daughter, that means she is Alicent Hightower, perfect, straight, proper lady, well-versed in politics, but not too well-versed, because that might make the men around her feel a teensy bit insecure.
She closes out of her thread with Gwayne. Opens the one with Rhaenyra.
Alicent I miss you.
Bubbles indicate Rhaenyra is typing, but then they go away, and Rhaenyra is calling her. FaceTiming her, to be exact.
“I miss you, too, darling,” Rhaenyra says, and it’s dark where she is but she’s still beautiful, “Come with me next year.”
“Okay.”
“Good.” A pause, then a smirk. “What are you wearing?”
“Pervert.”
(Alicent tells her anyway. Shows her. Shows her.)
“Touch yourself,” Rhaenyra whispers.
“…Okay.”
(Alicent does.)
***
It’s not just sex, either.
Well, actually — it kind of is, for the first few months — but Alicent is fairly certain that, along with being the absolute best she’s ever had in bed, Rhaenyra might also be her actual best friend.
It's nice.
It's really, really nice.
***
Months after she misses Christmas, Alicent gets a letter from her father.
Dear Alicent,
I hope this letter finds you well…
“Fuck him.”
“I know, love.”
“Fuck him, fuck his — his righteousness, his -” Alicent hiccoughs between sobs.
Rhaenyra holds her as she cries all night, all night, all night.
“Darling,” she coos into Alicent’s hair, stroking it, “it’s alright.”
Otto’s revoking her inheritance unless she comes for his birthday dinner three months from now. He’s not disowning her, he’d like to be very clear about that, though this is a step in that direction.
She’d prepared for this — her whole life, really, she’d prepared for this — but to have it actually happen is a different story altogether.
Gwayne Just do it.
Gwayne Literally millions of dollars, Alicent
Alicent Whatever.
Alicent Maybe.
***
She decides she’ll go, but she asks Rhaenyra to come with her. As her date.
“You don’t have to, though,” she quickly says. Rhaenyra’s head is on her shoulder as they lie in bed, ready to sleep. “My father is a lot -”
“Not to one-up you, Alicent,” Rhaenyra says, looking up at Alicent cheekily, “but I'll remind you that my father is Viserys actual Targaryen.”
“Yes, but -”
“Do you want me there?”
“Of course I do — as long as you’re alright with the potential of - of backhanded compliments, and snipes -”
"Baby,” Rhaenyra says, and it’s the first time she’s ever called Alicent baby, and Alicent’s always thought it’s really fucking weird for couples to call each other that right up until this exact moment, “as long as you want me there, I’m there. Always.”
“Always?”
Rhaenyra reaches up, kisses Alicent deep, like she means it. “Always.”
now
Alicent wakes the next morning in Rhaenyra’s bed, without Rhaenyra there — she hears clattering downstairs and the distinct smell of bacon, though, so she yawns, stretches, heads downstairs.
The rain has abated, but it’s a fucking disaster out there. A biblical-level flood, news reporters say, with extensive property damage and minimal injuries. Viserys' home is, of course, far too high up to have really been impacted.
Aelric has texted her.
Aelric Good morning, Miss Hightower. Picked up the rental car, but roads to you are still looking flooded. I can see about renting an all-terrain vehicle, if you’d like.
Alicent turns the corner and sees Rhaenyra standing in front of a pan, in joggers and a tank-top.
Alicent That’s alright. Let’s wait it out. Stay safe.
Aelric reacts with a thumbs-up to the text.
Lyra Morning x evening for me though, haha.
Lyra How’s the hotel?
Rhaenyra notices Alicent standing in the threshold.
“You need to be invited in, or something?” Rhaenyra asks, quirking a brow, holding a spatula, looking far too good for first thing in the morning while Alicent’s head feels like it’s full of heavy, old wine. Delicious wine — but still.
“…Pardon?”
“Vampire joke.”
“Ha-ha.” Alicent walks in to the kitchen, seating herself at the kitchen island. Rhaenyra smiles, turns back to the pan where she’s cooking bacon and eggs on the same pan —
This way, you get the flavor of the bacon grease in the eggs, Rhaenyra had said.
That’s rank, Alicent had said.
C’mon. Try it.
No.
Alicent.
Fine.
(It was delicious).
“Tea there for you,” Rhaenyra says, nudging her chin to the adjacent counter. Alicent sees that Rhaenyra’s left out a teacup with a small spoon, a little carafe of milk. Smiles.
“Thanks,” she says quietly, going to make herself a cuppa, taking a sip when she sits back down. Then: “Are you alright?”
Rhaenyra doesn’t turn for a while, or say anything for a while; just prods at the eggs. “Yeah. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“You didn’t. I was on my way to the loo.”
“Lucky me.”
Silence.
“Rhaenyra -” “-Alicent-”
Rhaenyra takes the frying pan off the burner and laughs, turning to Alicent, eyes cast downward. She gestures towards Alicent. “You go, sorry.”
“I’m sorry I was so…vicious. Last night,” Alicent says. “I mean, your father’s just passed — I should have been kinder.”
Rhaenyra nods, purses her lips. “Thank you.” She clears her throat. “I wasn’t being the easiest, though, so.”
“No, you weren’t.”
“Still terrible at apologies.”
They smile at each other.
***
Then, over empty plates that once hosted eggs and bacon, Rhaenyra says:
“…I missed you, Alicent.”
Alicent takes a sip of her now-lukewarm tea. Looks down at it. Back up.
“I missed you, too.”
***
They go for a walk to see the aftermath of the storm — debris everywhere, windswept trees, not a single car on the road. It’s peaceful, somehow, despite all of it.
“What if the entire world’s ended,” Rhaenyra says as they walk, “and we don’t even know it?”
“Well, the newscast would say otherwise.”
“Pretend it didn’t.”
Alicent wants to say something like —
I’d stay here, right here, with you, at the end of the world.
Instead, she shrugs. “I think…I think that would massively fuck up my day.”
Rhaenyra laughs. Alicent smiles.
I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you.
***
Later that evening:
Aelric Hi, Miss Hightower. They’ve cleared out the roads. I can arrive within the hour.
Rhaenyra is cooking, again — some kind of fancy pappardelle with her mum’s recipe for meat sauce, truffle oil, aged parm, another bottle of Arbor.
Alicent Tomorrow is fine, Aelric. Thank you.
A text to Lyra.
Alicent So sorry. Been a bit of an insane twenty-four hours x
Alicent Chat when I’m back?
“Who’re you texting?”
Alicent looks up from her phone. Rhaenyra isn’t even facing her. She’s just chopping onions.
“My driver,” she says. “He says…he can come get me tonight.”
Rhaenyra’s chopping slows a little. “...Ah.”
“But…”
Rhaenyra turns.
“It’s late. Wouldn’t want him to get into an accident, the roads the way they are.”
Rhaenyra stares, then turns back to the onions, but not before Alicent catches her trying to hide a smile.
“No. No, we wouldn’t,” Rhaenyra says.
***
“Holy Gods, Rhaenyra. This is insane.”
Rhaenyra leans back in her seat, a satisfied grin on her face, as Alicent takes her first bite of the pasta.
“Gods bless Aemma Targaryen,” Rhaenyra says, lifting her glass of wine. Alicent does the same. “Guaranteed that Viserys’ first request up there is going to be for her to cook for him.”
“Hope she slaps him silly.”
Rhaenyra laughs, shoulders shaking. “Me, too.”
***
“…I was texting someone I’m seeing.”
It’s abrupt, and they’re sitting on the couch again, and Alicent’s tongue is a little loose with wine again. Rhaenyra’s in the middle of reaching for her phone to change whatever loud pop song is playing on her automated playlist. She freezes — then proceeds. Unlocks her phone, looks extremely busied with it.
“That right?” she asks, though her voice is not nearly as neutral as her face is.
Alicent swallows, hard, and she wants to do something like reassure Rhaenyra, but that wouldn’t be very fair, would it?
Alicent is the one who left.
Alicent is the one who decided to drop their beautiful life together.
What could she even say?
It’s not very serious in the least, I just needed regular sex again —
Definitely not.
She has this cat I don’t really like —
No point.
Sometimes, when she touches me — when anyone touches me — I imagine it’s you, because no one else can touch me like you can, no one —
Alicent crosses her legs. Sips at her wine again. “Yes.”
Rhaenyra manages to change the music back to one of those nice background-music-jazz playlists. Sets her phone down. Doesn’t meet Alicent’s eyes.
“…Are you happy?” Her voice is so quiet. It’s so, so quiet, and it trembles a little, and —
“…No.”
Rhaenyra looks up at Alicent.
“No. I’m not.”
And then Rhaenyra is setting her glass down, and Alicent is setting hers down, and Rhaenyra is lunging towards her, and they’re kissing, and Alicent moans at the feeling of Rhaenyra’s lips on hers again —
This. This is how it felt.
How could I have ever gone without this?
How could I have gone so long without this?
Tongues. Hands. Hands. Desperation. Rhaenyra’s hand sliding up Alicent’s shirt, Alicent gasping into Rhaenyra’s mouth when she thumbs over her nipple, over her bra, and Alicent wants, wants, she wants her so badly —
“DADDY’S HOME!!!”
They spring apart, Alicent pulling her shirt down, Rhaenyra’s hand quickly rising to wipe her mouth as Aegon walks into the living room.
“— This fucking rain, I shit you not — oh.” Aegon sees Alicent. “Alicent? Hello?”
“…Hello.”
Aegon looks at Rhaenyra, then Alicent, then, his eyes light up in that way.
"What is it, Aegon?" Rhaenyra says quickly.
“…I just…came to get my things,” he says, slowly going red.
“Fuck off and go get them, then?” Rhaenyra says like are you serious right now, get the fuck out of here?
Aegon looks to Alicent. “You’re going to let her speak to me that way?”
“I’ve never let her do anything in her life,” Alicent counters.
“Well. I can think of one thing -”
“Aegon,” they both snap.
“…Deja vu,” he mutters. He gives Alicent a nod, a smile. “Good to see you, Alicent.”
Alicent clears her throat. “Likewise.”
“I will see you,” Aegon says with a flourish of his hand towards Rhaenyra, “tomorrow.”
Neither of them can look at each other as Aegon leaves the living room, as they listen to him rummage around upstairs for a few of his things, as he says byeeee and closes the front door behind him.
“I should go to bed,” Alicent says, or tries to say, before Rhaenyra is on her again, pressing her down so she’s lying on the couch. It’s feverish, desperate, the way their lips slide against each other, and when Alicent finally, finally hears that beautiful groan coming from the back of Rhaenyra’s throat —
I want you to be more vocal, Alicent had said sheepishly one night, after Rhaenyra had come so hard that she was helpless to stop the desperate, loud moan that erupted from her chest, looking almost embarrassed after.
Rhaenyra had listened —
— and then, Alicent remembers the last time they spoke —
Goodbye, then.
Right. Take care.
— and Alicent shoves at Rhaenyra’s chest, shoves Rhaenyra off of her, feeling like she’s back in that exact moment, that exact fucking terrible moment.
“What?” Rhaenyra breathes, raising her hands in deference, panting. “I’m sorry—did I hurt you—”
“I’m going to bed,” Alicent says, her voice shaking, don’t cry don’t you fucking cry, “Don’t follow me.”
“Alicent —?”
Alicent all but speeds up the stairs. Slams the door shut behind her.
Rhaenyra does not follow her.
then
“Question for you.”
“Hm?” Alicent looks up from her book to Rhaenyra, who is sat beside her on the train.
“What am I? To your father? If he asks?”
“What are you.”
“Yes?”
Alicent presses her lips together in a smile, and Rhaenyra smiles back.
“I suppose…you’re my girlfriend?”
Rhaenyra’s soft smile turns into an all-out grin.
“Is that a question?”
Alicent blushes. “If it were, what would be the answer?”
Rhaenyra nudges her shoulder against Alicent’s. “Yes, of course.” She rests her head on Alicent’s shoulder, taking Alicent’s hand. “I’m your girlfriend.”
“Right." There's an almost unbearable warmth inside of Alicent's chest, threatening to burst, threatening to make her cry. "Well. I’m not yours, so this is a little awkward -”
Alicent giggles loudly when Rhaenyra abruptly shoves at her, muttering you little absolute freak, before settling back on her shoulder again, winding their hands together again.
"...You make me happy," Rhaenyra whispers. "Haven't been this happy in a long time."
Alicent kisses the top of Rhaenyra's head — the top of her girlfriend's head. "You make me happy too, darling. So happy."