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There was a particular kind of quiet that only existed after midnight.
It wasn’t the quiet of sleep or peace or rest. It was thinner than that held together by buzzing streetlights and the low electrical hum of buildings that refused to fully shut down. Rhaenyra liked to imagine it as the world exhaling. Not asleep. Just… listening.
The radio station always smelled faintly of dust and burnt coffee at this hour. Old carpet. Warm electronics. A place that had seen better decades and decided not to mourn them. Rhaenyra liked that too. It felt honest.
She slipped her headphones on, adjusted the mic, and leaned closer to the desk as the red ON AIR light flicked to life.
“Good evening,” she said, voice settling into that familiar, steady cadence she only ever found here. “Or morning. Or whatever this hour feels like to you.”
Daemon snorted from the other chair, feet kicked up on the console like he paid rent here. He didn’t.
“You’re listening to Dragonstone After Dark,” Rhaenyra continued, unbothered. “I’m Rhaenyra. If you’re driving home, studying too late, or just lying awake wondering where the time went welcome. You’re not alone.”
She cued the next track, something slow and guitar heavy, and leaned back as it faded in.
Daemon reached over and stole a sip from her coffee. “You know,” he said, “one day a real producer is going to hear this show and realize it’s just you emotionally oversharing into a microphone.”
“It’s called intimacy,” Rhaenyra replied. “Look it up.”
“It’s called flirting with your listeners.”
She shot him a look. “You’re literally here to balance the mood.”
“And yet,” he said smugly, “every time she calls, you forget how to breathe.”
Rhaenyra’s fingers stilled on the desk. “She is just a caller.”
Daemon grinned, all teeth. “Sure she is.”
The song ended. Rhaenyra leaned forward again, smooth as ever.
“That was ‘Pictures of You,’” she said. “Because apparently I woke up and chose melancholy. Phone lines are open if anyone wants to challenge that choice.”
The phone light blinked.
Daemon straightened. “Oh. Oh, this is gonna be good.”
Rhaenyra ignored him and pressed the button. “You’re on.”
There was a soft click. A breath.
“Hi, Rhaenyra.”
Her stomach flipped.
It was ridiculous. Truly. She hosted a call in radio show; voices came and went, bled into one another. But Alicent’s voice always arrived with intention. Calm, warm, careful like she knew she was being listened to and respected that.
“Hi,” Rhaenyra replied, hating how her own voice softened automatically. “Welcome back.”
“Thank you,” Alicent said. “I wasn’t sure if I’d make it tonight.”
Daemon leaned toward his mic. “We were all holding our breath.”
Rhaenyra kicked his shin under the desk.
“Ow,” he said cheerfully. “Worth it.”
Alicent laughed, and the sound slid straight under Rhaenyra’s ribs. “Is he always like this?”
“Yes,” Rhaenyra said. “I’ve tried everything short of violence.”
“And yet you keep him.”
“He’s very hard to get rid of,” Daemon added. “Like mold. Or a curse.”
Alicent hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose curses can be useful.”
Rhaenyra swallowed. Focus. You’re on air.
“So,” she said, professional again, mostly. “What’s on your mind tonight?”
There was a pause not dead air, but something close. A moment of choice.
“I have a request,” Alicent said finally.
Daemon perked up. “Oh, this is gonna be unhinged, isn’t it?”
Rhaenyra sighed. “Go ahead.”
“Well,” Alicent began, “I was wondering if you have… the Shrek soundtrack.”
Daemon made an undignified noise somewhere between a laugh and a choke.
Rhaenyra stared at the soundboard. “I’m sorry?”
“Specifically ‘Holding Out for a Hero,’” Alicent clarified, entirely serious. “The original. Not the cover.”
“You are aware,” Rhaenyra said carefully, “that this is a late night indie program.”
“Yes,” Alicent replied. “That’s why I thought it would be fun.”
Daemon was shaking with barely contained glee. “She’s testing you.”
“I am not,” Alicent said. “I simply believe in… range.”
Rhaenyra pressed her lips together. She could hear the smile in Alicent’s voice. She hated that she could hear it.
“Daemon,” she said, “we are not playing Shrek.”
“Coward,” he accused.
“However,” Rhaenyra continued, “I do have a cover of that song. Slower. Less… ogre adjacent.”
“That would be perfect,” Alicent said. “Thank you.”
“For the record,” Daemon added, “this is flirting.”
Alicent laughed again. “Is it working?”
Rhaenyra’s ears burned. “Daemon.”
“I’m just saying,” he continued, “most callers don’t request meme adjacent power ballads.”
“I happen to enjoy irony,” Alicent said. “And sincerity. Sometimes at the same time.”
Rhaenyra closed her eyes for half a second. “You’re dangerous.”
“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me today.”
She played the song.
As it filled the booth soft piano, aching vocals Rhaenyra leaned back, heartbeat still slightly off rhythm. She pretended she wasn’t thinking about Alicent somewhere on the other end of the city. Maybe curled up on a couch. Maybe driving home. Maybe smiling at nothing in particular.
When the track faded out, Alicent was still on the line.
“That was beautiful,” she said quietly.
Rhaenyra nodded, forgetting Alicent couldn’t see her. “Yeah. It is.”
“I like the way you choose music,” Alicent added. “It feels… intentional.”
Daemon made a gagging noise.
“I mean it,” Alicent said, unbothered. “It feels like you’re curating something. Not just playing songs.”
Rhaenyra cleared her throat. “That’s kind of the job.”
“Not everyone treats it that way.”
Something in Alicent’s tone earnest, observant made Rhaenyra’s chest ache. “Why do you call so often?”
The question slipped out before she could stop it.
Daemon’s eyebrows shot up.
There was another pause. Longer this time.
“I like listening to you,” Alicent said simply. “You make the night feel… manageable.”
Rhaenyra’s fingers tightened around the edge of the desk.
Daemon leaned back, hands up in surrender. “I’m gonna stop talking now.”
For a moment, there was nothing but the low hum of the studio and the soft breathing on the line.
“Well,” Rhaenyra said finally, voice quieter, “I’m glad you’re here.”
“So am I.”
The phone line clicked off shortly after. The light went dark.
Daemon waited exactly three seconds.
“Oh my god,” he said. “You are down bad.”
“I am not.”
“You asked why she calls.”
“That’s normal!”
“That’s personal.”
“She made it personal first!”
Daemon laughed, long and delighted. “You blush on radio, you know that?”
“I do not blush.”
“You do,” he said. “Your voice does this thing.”
She glared at him. “If you tell anyone”
“I absolutely will.”
The rest of the show passed in a blur. Other callers. Other songs. But Rhaenyra felt off balance, like she’d tilted slightly toward something she couldn’t yet see.
When the OFF AIR light finally went dark, she took her headphones off slowly.
Daemon stretched. “Same time next week?”
“She might not call,” Rhaenyra said, too quickly.
Daemon smirked. “She will.”
“How do you know?”
“Because,” he said, grabbing his jacket, “people don’t flirt like that unless they mean to.”
Rhaenyra stayed in the booth long after he left, staring at the quiet phone lines.
The world outside was still awake.
And somewhere in it, Alicent was listening.
By the time Tuesday rolled around again, Rhaenyra had already told herself firmly, repeatedly that she would not think about Alicent.
This resolution lasted until approximately 11:03 p.m., when she stepped into the booth and felt that familiar, stupid flutter in her chest that had nothing to do with caffeine and everything to do with the blinking phone lines.
“She might not call tonight,” Rhaenyra muttered, setting her notebook down a little too carefully.
Daemon, already seated and spinning lazily in his chair, grinned. “You say that like you don’t want her to.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“You alphabetized the playlist.”
“That’s unrelated.”
Daemon leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You do that when you’re nervous.”
“I do that when you won’t stop talking.”
“Also true,” he conceded. “But mostly when you’re nervous.”
Rhaenyra slipped her headphones on and refused to dignify that with a response.
The ON AIR light came on, red and unyielding.
“Good evening,” she said, voice smooth, practiced. “You’re tuned into Dragonstone After Dark. I’m Rhaenyra. It’s one of those nights where the city feels louder than it should, so let’s turn it down together.”
Daemon made a show of melting into his chair. “Gods, she’s good.”
She shot him a look and cued the first track a mellow opener, something with warmth in it, not too heavy. She told herself the choice had nothing to do with Alicent.
The first twenty minutes passed easily. A couple of regulars called in someone requesting a song for a long drive, another asking for something to help them sleep. Rhaenyra handled each with ease, slipping into the version of herself that existed only here: grounded, attentive, steady.
Still, she kept glancing at the phone.
Daemon noticed. Of course he did.
“She’s late,” he murmured.
“She has a life.”
“She called at 11:17 last week.”
Rhaenyra frowned. “You remember that?”
Daemon shrugged. “I respect patterns.”
The song ended. Rhaenyra leaned forward again.
“That was Phoebe Bridgers, because sometimes you need to feel gently wrecked,” she said. “Phone lines are still open.”
The light blinked.
Her breath caught despite herself.
Daemon’s grin was immediate and infuriating. “Told you.”
Rhaenyra pressed the button before she could overthink it. “You’re on.”
There was a click. A breath.
“Hi,” Alicent said.
Just that. Just hi.
Rhaenyra smiled before she could stop herself. “Hi.”
Daemon rested his chin in his hands. “God, it’s like watching a rom com in real time.”
“Is that Daemon?” Alicent asked.
“Yes,” Rhaenyra and Daemon said at the same time.
Alicent laughed. “You sound very synchronized.”
“We share a brain cell,” Daemon said. “She has custody most days.”
Rhaenyra ignored him. “You’re on a bit earlier tonight.”
“I didn’t want to miss you,” Alicent said easily.
Rhaenyra’s fingers curled against the desk.
Daemon made an exaggerated gagging noise. “I’m begging you two to get a room.”
“We’re on air,” Rhaenyra hissed.
“I know. That’s what makes it art.”
Alicent sounded amused. “I don’t mind the audience.”
Daemon’s eyebrows shot up. He slowly leaned back in his chair, delighted. “Oh, she’s dangerous.”
Rhaenyra cleared her throat. “What’s your request tonight?”
“Well,” Alicent said, and Rhaenyra could practically hear the smile forming, “I was thinking of something… energetic.”
“That’s vague and concerning.”
“I trust your judgment.”
Daemon leaned toward his mic. “Careful, that’s how she gets you.”
Rhaenyra ignored him. “Any genre preferences?”
“Surprise me.”
That shouldn’t have felt intimate. It absolutely did.
Rhaenyra scrolled through her playlist, heart thudding softly. She chose something upbeat but still thoughtful a song that felt like motion without chaos.
“Alright,” she said. “This one’s for you.”
“For me,” Alicent echoed.
“For you,” Daemon repeated, mockingly reverent. “I’m witnessing history.”
Rhaenyra played the track.
While it filled the booth, she leaned back, staring at the ceiling tiles. She imagined Alicent listening wherever she was head tilted, maybe tapping her fingers along to the beat. The thought made her chest feel too full.
When the song ended, Alicent was still on the line.
“That was perfect,” she said. “I don’t know how you do that.”
Rhaenyra shrugged, though Alicent couldn’t see it. “I just listen.”
There was a brief pause.
“You do,” Alicent said. “That’s the thing.”
Daemon went very, very still.
Rhaenyra swallowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Alicent continued, voice softer now, “you don’t rush people. You don’t talk over them. You make space.”
Something in Rhaenyra’s chest tightened, sharp and tender all at once. “I think people deserve that.”
“They do,” Alicent agreed. “It’s why I keep calling.”
Daemon slowly leaned back, hands behind his head. “I’m going to pretend I’m not emotionally invested in this.”
Rhaenyra laughed, a little breathless. “You call every week.”
“Sometimes more.”
“Yes,” Rhaenyra said. “I noticed.”
The admission hung between them.
“Oh?” Alicent said lightly. “I didn’t realize I was that predictable.”
“I like predictable,” Rhaenyra replied. “Especially at this hour.”
Daemon made a soft aw noise.
Alicent chuckled. “I was hoping you’d say that.”
Rhaenyra’s cheeks warmed. “You’re very bold for someone who hides behind a phone line.”
“Maybe,” Alicent said. “Or maybe I’m braver when you can’t see me.”
The words settled deep, resonant.
Rhaenyra found herself leaning closer to the mic. “You could come by the station sometime.”
Daemon’s head snapped up. “EXCUSE ME?”
The silence on the line stretched.
“That’s… an invitation,” Alicent said carefully.
Rhaenyra’s heart pounded. “It is.”
Daemon mouthed oh my god over and over.
“I might take you up on that,” Alicent said. “If you’re serious.”
“I am,” Rhaenyra replied, surprising herself with how true it felt.
“Well,” Alicent said, warmth creeping back into her voice, “I suppose I should let other callers through before Daemon combusts.”
“He’s already halfway there,” Rhaenyra said.
“Tell him,” Alicent added, “that I appreciate his enthusiasm.”
Daemon pressed a hand to his chest. “I feel seen.”
The line clicked off.
Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, only then realizing she’d been holding her breath.
Daemon stared at her. “You invited her to the station.”
“I did.”
“You never do that.”
“I know.”
“She’s real.”
“Yes.”
Daemon broke into a grin so wide it bordered on feral. “I knew this show would get interesting.”
Rhaenyra shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You’re unbearable.”
“And yet,” he said, “I’m right.”
The rest of the night unfolded like a dream she kept half waking from. More calls. More songs. But Rhaenyra’s thoughts kept drifting back to Alicent to her voice, her confidence, the promise tucked into I might take you up on that.
When the show ended and the booth fell quiet, Rhaenyra stayed seated, hands resting on the console.
Daemon lingered in the doorway. “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. I think so.”
He studied her for a moment, unusually serious. “You know this might turn into something.”
Rhaenyra swallowed. “I know.”
Daemon smiled softly. “Good.”
After he left, Rhaenyra gathered her things and stepped out into the cool night air. The city hummed around her, alive and restless.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown Number: You sounded different tonight. In a good way.
Rhaenyra smiled, fingers hovering over the screen.
Rhaenyra: You do that to me.
There was a pause. Then
Unknown Number: I was hoping.
Rhaenyra tucked her phone into her pocket, heart light and racing all at once.
The frequency between them was getting clearer.
And she was already tuned in.
Alicent Hightower did not consider herself an impulsive person.
She liked structure. Routine. Knowing where she was meant to be and what was expected of her when she arrived. She had built her adult life carefully, brick by brick, until it resembled something calm and respectable and if she were honest very quiet.
Which made it deeply inconvenient that a late night radio show had managed to rearrange her internal organs.
She discovered Dragonstone After Dark by accident.
A long drive home. A night that felt too heavy to carry alone. She’d been flipping through stations, half listening, when Rhaenyra’s voice slid into the car like it belonged there. Warm. Unrushed. As if she weren’t performing so much as keeping company.
Alicent had pulled over that night. Just sat there, engine idling, listening.
She didn’t call for weeks after that. She told herself it would be strange. Intrusive. But eventually the urge outweighed the restraint, and she dialed the number with her heart pounding like she was about to confess something dangerous.
Rhaenyra had answered.
And that was that.
Now Alicent stood in front of her bathroom mirror on a Thursday night, staring at her own reflection like it had personally betrayed her.
“You’re going to a radio station,” she told herself out loud. “Not a duel.”
Still, she changed her coat twice.
She checked the address again, even though she’d memorized it days ago. The building was older, tucked between a closed down bookstore and a late night diner that smelled perpetually of grease and coffee. The kind of place you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it.
Her phone buzzed as she locked her door.
Rhaenyra: You still coming? No pressure if you changed your mind.
Alicent smiled, heart flipping traitorously.
Alicent: I’m outside.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Reappeared.
Rhaenyra: I’ll come get you.
Alicent barely had time to tuck her phone away before the door swung open.
Rhaenyra looked… real.
Not the curated voice, not the imagined presence Alicent had built in her mind, but a woman in an oversized sweater, hair slightly messy, eyes bright with something like nervous excitement. She froze when she saw Alicent, just for a beat.
“Oh,” Rhaenyra said. “You’re… hi.”
Alicent laughed softly. “Hi.”
They stood there, staring at each other, the silence suddenly much louder than it had ever been over the phone.
Rhaenyra recovered first. “Sorry. Come in. Before Daemon decides to shout something inappropriate.”
As if summoned by name, a voice echoed from somewhere down the hall. “TOO LATE.”
Alicent smiled despite herself as she stepped inside. The building smelled like old paper and warm electronics comforting in a way she hadn’t expected.
Rhaenyra led her down the hallway, hands tucked into her sleeves. “He’s not usually this unbearable.”
“That’s not what he sounds like on air,” Alicent said gently.
Rhaenyra glanced back at her, amused. “You’re very kind.”
The studio was smaller than Alicent imagined. Cozy. Intimate. Soft lighting, worn chairs, a desk crowded with notes and coffee cups and history. Daemon lounged inside like he owned the place.
He looked up and grinned. “So you’re the voice.”
Alicent raised a brow. “And you’re the menace.”
“Guilty,” he said, standing and offering a mock bow. “Daemon. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the woman who makes my co host forget how sentences work.”
Rhaenyra groaned. “I hate you.”
“You love me,” he replied. Then, to Alicent: “I’m going to give you two a moment before the show starts. Try not to combust.”
He disappeared with a dramatic flourish.
The quiet that followed was different. Charged.
Alicent clasped her hands together. “He’s… entertaining.”
“That’s one word for it,” Rhaenyra said. “You okay?”
“Yes,” Alicent replied honestly. “A little nervous.”
Rhaenyra smiled, soft and reassuring. “Me too.”
That admission loosened something in Alicent’s chest.
They sat side by side as the minutes ticked closer to airtime. Alicent watched as Rhaenyra slipped into her routine adjusting levels, flipping through notes, settling into the chair like it was an extension of herself.
“You look different here,” Alicent said quietly.
Rhaenyra glanced at her. “Different how?”
“More… yourself.”
Rhaenyra considered that, then nodded. “Yeah. That sounds right.”
The ON AIR light blinked on.
Rhaenyra’s posture shifted subtly, confidence settling over her like a second skin. “Good evening,” she said into the mic. “You’re listening to Dragonstone After Dark. I’m Rhaenyra, and tonight we have a guest in the studio.”
Alicent’s heart skipped.
“She’s a familiar voice to some of you,” Rhaenyra continued, smiling at Alicent. “But tonight, she’s here in person.”
Daemon’s voice chimed in from the other mic. “Try not to freak out, everyone.”
Alicent laughed, leaning closer to the microphone Rhaenyra slid toward her. “Hi.”
The phones lit up almost immediately.
Daemon cackled. “Oh, they’ve been waiting for this.”
Rhaenyra shook her head, amused. “You’re very popular.”
Alicent felt warmth bloom in her chest. “I just call a lot.”
“You do,” Rhaenyra agreed, fond.
As the show unfolded, Alicent found herself relaxing. The studio felt safe. Rhaenyra’s presence grounded her, a steady hum beneath everything else. They talked about music, about why certain songs stayed with you long after they ended.
At one point, Rhaenyra played a track Alicent hadn’t requested.
“This one,” Rhaenyra said softly, “feels like… choosing to be brave.”
Alicent met her gaze. Something unspoken passed between them.
When the show ended and the OFF AIR light went dark, neither of them moved.
Daemon stretched and grabbed his jacket. “I’m getting food. Don’t do anything I’d regret not witnessing.”
“Go,” Rhaenyra said, laughing.
The door closed behind him, leaving them alone again.
“So,” Rhaenyra said. “You came.”
“I did.”
“I’m glad.”
“So am I.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment. Then Alicent spoke.
“I was afraid,” she admitted. “That you’d be different.”
Rhaenyra’s expression softened. “And am I?”
Alicent shook her head. “No. You’re… exactly right.”
Rhaenyra exhaled, like she’d been holding that breath for a long time.
Outside, the city hummed on. Inside the studio, the noise faded into something gentler.
Alicent realized, with a quiet certainty, that she wanted to keep tuning in.
Not just to the show.
To her.
There was a strange intimacy in staying after.
The studio was never meant to hold people past the glow of the OFF AIR light. It was a place designed for voices, not bodies for sound to pass through and vanish, not linger. And yet Rhaenyra found herself reluctant to move, her hands still resting on the console as if the show might start again if she stayed still enough.
Alicent sat beside her, coat folded neatly over her lap, posture composed but not stiff. Close enough that Rhaenyra could feel her warmth. Close enough that every shift of movement registered like a question.
“Well,” Rhaenyra said eventually, breaking the quiet, “that went… well.”
Alicent smiled. “You say that like you’re surprised.”
“I am,” Rhaenyra admitted. “You were very calm.”
“I was internally panicking,” Alicent replied lightly. “But I didn’t want to embarrass you.”
Rhaenyra turned to look at her. “You couldn’t.”
Alicent’s breath caught just a little. Rhaenyra saw it this time the way her composure faltered, just at the edges. It felt like discovering a secret door.
Daemon’s absence pressed in on them. Normally he filled silence with commentary, jokes, movement. Without him, the studio felt smaller. More honest.
“I should probably go,” Alicent said, though she made no move to stand.
Rhaenyra nodded. “Yeah. It’s late.”
Neither of them moved.
Outside the booth, the hallway lights hummed. Somewhere down the street, a siren wailed and faded. The city kept going, unaware of the fragile thing unfolding in a second floor radio station.
“Can I ask you something?” Alicent said.
“Always,” Rhaenyra replied.
“Why me?”
The question landed softly but it hit deep.
Rhaenyra blinked. “What do you mean?”
“You get dozens of callers,” Alicent continued. “You talk to so many people. But with me, you” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “You sound different.”
Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, considering. She’d asked herself the same thing more than once, usually at three in the morning, staring at her phone.
“I don’t know,” she said finally. “You listen.”
Alicent tilted her head. “So do others.”
“Yes, but,” Rhaenyra corrected gently, “you hear.”
Alicent absorbed that, eyes thoughtful. “I never meant to stand out.”
“I’m glad you did.”
The admission felt like stepping too close to a ledge. Exhilarating. Terrifying.
Alicent stood then, smoothing her coat. “Thank you. For letting me be part of your world.”
Rhaenyra stood too, heart thudding. “You already were.”
They walked together down the hallway, steps slow, as if neither wanted the moment to end too quickly. At the door, they stopped again another pause, heavier now.
Alicent hesitated. “I”
The door opened.
Daemon reappeared, carrying a paper bag and radiating chaos. “I return bearing fries and absolutely no sense of timing.”
Rhaenyra groaned. “Daemon.”
Alicent laughed, startled, then looked almost relieved. “You must be psychic.”
“I am,” he said proudly. Then he took one look at their faces and sighed dramatically. “Wow. I missed something important, didn’t I?”
“No,” Rhaenyra said too quickly. “You didn’t.”
“Lies,” he replied. “But I’ll let you have them.”
He offered Alicent the bag. “For the road.”
“That’s very kind,” Alicent said, taking one. “Thank you.”
Daemon watched her carefully. “You’re good for her.”
Rhaenyra sputtered. “Daemon!”
“What?” he said innocently. “I’m observant.”
Alicent’s smile softened. “I hope so.”
Outside, the night air was crisp. The streetlights cast long shadows, and for a moment they stood together on the sidewalk, three figures caught between leaving and staying.
“I’ll see you,” Alicent said.
“Yes,” Rhaenyra agreed. “Soon.”
Alicent hesitated then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Rhaenyra’s cheek.
It was brief. Chaste. Devastating.
Rhaenyra froze, breath knocked clean out of her lungs.
Alicent pulled back, cheeks flushed. “Goodnight.”
And then she was gone, disappearing down the street with the confidence of someone who had no idea what she’d just done.
Daemon whistled low. “Oh, she ruined you.”
Rhaenyra didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
The next week was torture.
Alicent didn’t call.
Rhaenyra told herself she was busy. That she didn’t want to overstep. That maybe the kiss had crossed an invisible line and now Alicent was retreating, as careful as she always was.
Still, the absence rang loud.
Daemon noticed immediately.
“You’re sulking,” he said, three songs into the show.
“I am not.”
“You played sad indie lesbians back to back.”
“That’s a genre.”
“It’s a cry for help.”
Rhaenyra ignored him, leaning into the mic. “You’re listening to Dragonstone After Dark. Phone lines are open.”
They stayed stubbornly silent.
She finished the show on autopilot, voice steady even as something twisted uncomfortably in her chest. When the OFF AIR light dimmed, she ripped off her headphones and stood abruptly.
“I’m leaving.”
Daemon blinked. “Whoa. Dramatic.”
“I’m tired.”
“Of what?”
She hesitated. “Of waiting.”
Daemon’s teasing softened. “She’ll call.”
“Maybe she shouldn’t.”
Daemon studied her. “Are you scared?”
Rhaenyra laughed humorlessly. “Isn’t that obvious?”
Alicent stood in her kitchen that same night, phone in hand, staring at the radio app on her screen.
She’d listened. Of course she had. She always did.
But calling felt different now. Too exposed. The distance that had once felt safe had dissolved the moment she’d stepped into the studio, the moment she’d seen Rhaenyra blink in surprise, the moment she’d pressed her lips to her cheek and felt the electricity of it linger.
She didn’t want to be a voice anymore.
She wanted more.
And that frightened her.
The following Tuesday, Rhaenyra arrived early.
The studio was quiet, dim. She set her bag down, took a deep breath, and told herself this was just a show. Just music. Just another night.
Daemon arrived late, hair damp from rain. “She coming?”
Rhaenyra didn’t look up. “I don’t know.”
The ON AIR light blinked on.
Rhaenyra spoke into the mic, calm and composed. “Good evening. Tonight feels… uncertain. So let’s lean into that.”
Halfway through the first song, the phone rang.
Daemon’s eyes widened. “No way.”
Rhaenyra stared at the blinking light, pulse roaring in her ears. Slowly, she pressed the button.
“You’re on.”
“Hi,” Alicent said, voice quiet. “I hope it’s okay that I’m calling.”
Relief flooded her so intensely Rhaenyra had to grip the desk. “Of course it is.”
“I wasn’t sure,” Alicent admitted. “After the other night.”
Rhaenyra swallowed. “Neither was I.”
Daemon leaned back, hands folded, unusually silent.
“I didn’t mean to make things complicated,” Alicent continued. “I just… didn’t want to pretend I felt nothing.”
Rhaenyra closed her eyes briefly. “I’m glad you didn’t.”
A pause. Charged. Alive.
“I don’t want to be just a caller anymore,” Alicent said.
The words echoed in the small space.
Daemon slowly raised his eyebrows.
Rhaenyra leaned closer to the mic. “Then don’t be.”
Alicent exhaled, like she’d been holding her breath for weeks. “Okay.”
“Okay,” Rhaenyra echoed.
The song played on, filling the silence between them not empty now, but humming with possibility.
For the first time, Rhaenyra didn’t feel afraid of the interference.
She welcomed it.
The first rule they never said out loud but both immediately understood was this:
They wouldn’t rush it.
Rhaenyra didn’t invite Alicent to her apartment that night. Alicent didn’t ask. Instead, they lingered on the phone after the show ended, voices softer now that the microphones were off, talking about nothing and everything until Daemon loudly announced he was “leaving before the emotional intimacy made him nauseous.”
After that, they started… carefully.
Text messages at odd hours. Notes about songs that reminded them of each other. Links sent without explanation. A shared understanding that whatever this was, it deserved attention.
Their first real date happened on a Saturday afternoon, chosen deliberately neutral ground, no midnight haze to hide behind.
Rhaenyra arrived early, hands shoved into her jacket pockets, bouncing slightly on her heels outside a small record store tucked into a side street she loved. The place smelled like vinyl and dust and nostalgia. She told herself this was fine. Normal. People did this every day.
Her phone buzzed.
Alicent: I’m across the street. And suddenly incapable of walking.
Rhaenyra smiled before she could stop herself.
She spotted Alicent almost immediately green coat again, hair neatly pinned back, eyes scanning the storefront like she was preparing for something momentous.
Rhaenyra stepped forward. “Hey.”
Alicent turned, visibly startled, then relaxed when she saw her. “Oh. Hi.”
They stood there, awkward in a way that surprised them both. On the phone, on the radio, words had come so easily. In person, they suddenly had bodies to account for. Distance. Space.
Rhaenyra gestured toward the door. “I thought we could look around. No pressure.”
“That sounds perfect,” Alicent said. “I like places where you don’t have to talk the whole time.”
Inside, the record store wrapped around them like a memory. Rows of albums, posters curling at the edges, a soft hum of music playing overhead. Rhaenyra felt herself relax almost instantly.
“I come here when I need to remember why I love music,” she said.
Alicent smiled. “You don’t seem like someone who forgets.”
Rhaenyra shrugged. “Everyone does. Sometimes.”
They wandered slowly, occasionally brushing shoulders. Each small contact sent a quiet thrill through Rhaenyra, like tuning a radio just right.
Alicent paused in front of a crate, pulling out a familiar album. “You played this once. Late.”
Rhaenyra leaned closer, surprised. “You remember that?”
“I remember most of them,” Alicent said. “I used to write them down.”
Something warm and achingly sincere bloomed in Rhaenyra’s chest. “That’s… a lot of effort.”
Alicent looked at her steadily. “You were worth it.”
The words settled between them, heavy and sweet.
They left the store with nothing purchased, hands brushing again as they stepped back into the daylight. The city felt louder here, brighter less forgiving than the quiet intimacy of the studio.
“Coffee?” Rhaenyra asked.
“Yes,” Alicent replied instantly. Then, more softly, “Please.”
The café was crowded, all clinking cups and overlapping conversations. They found a small table near the window, knees almost touching. Rhaenyra noticed Alicent fidgeting with her sleeve.
“Nervous?” she asked gently.
“A little,” Alicent admitted. “This feels… different.”
“It is,” Rhaenyra agreed. “But different doesn’t have to be bad.”
Alicent smiled, relieved. “You’re very good at saying the right thing.”
Rhaenyra laughed. “I’m really not. I just mean what I say.”
They talked for hours. About childhood memories tied to songs. About loneliness that crept in when you least expected it. About the comfort of routine and the terror of wanting something more.
Alicent watched Rhaenyra as she spoke, noting the way her hands moved when she got excited, the way her eyes softened when she listened. This version of her sunlit, unguarded felt precious.
“I worry sometimes,” Alicent said quietly, stirring her coffee long after it had gone cold.
“About what?”
“About being seen,” she admitted. “I’ve spent a long time being… careful.”
Rhaenyra nodded. “I hide in plain sight. On air, I can be honest because no one’s looking at me.”
Alicent met her gaze. “I see you.”
The admission hung there, unchallenged.
When they finally parted, it was with a soft hug tentative, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. Rhaenyra felt the absence immediately when Alicent stepped back.
That night, alone in her apartment, Rhaenyra replayed the day in her mind. The ease. The tension. The way something fragile had taken shape between them.
Her phone buzzed.
Alicent: Thank you for today. I didn’t realize how much I needed it.
Rhaenyra smiled, heart full.
Rhaenyra: Me too.
The trouble with good things, Rhaenyra would later realize, was how quickly fear followed.
It crept in quietly during commercial breaks, in the silence after laughter. In the way she caught herself editing what she said, wondering if she was giving too much away.
Daemon noticed, of course.
“You’re distracted,” he said one night, watching her cue a song too early.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re thinking about her.”
Rhaenyra didn’t deny it this time. “I don’t want to mess this up.”
Daemon leaned back, studying her. “You won’t. But you might scare yourself trying not to.”
She sighed. “What if this only works because it’s… separate? The show. The calls. What if real life ruins it?”
Daemon’s expression softened. “Real life is already here.”
The next time Alicent came to the studio, it wasn’t for the show. It was a weeknight, early evening, the building quieter than usual.
Rhaenyra showed her around properly this time the editing room, the wall of old photos, the break room with the perpetually broken vending machine.
“This place feels like you,” Alicent said.
Rhaenyra smiled. “That’s alarming.”
They ended up back in the booth, sitting side by side, lights dimmed.
“I keep thinking about that kiss,” Alicent said suddenly.
Rhaenyra’s breath caught. “Me too.”
“I didn’t plan it,” Alicent continued. “I just… felt brave for a moment.”
Rhaenyra turned toward her. “You can be brave again. If you want.”
Alicent searched her face. “And if I do?”
Rhaenyra leaned in, slowly, giving her time to pull away.
Alicent didn’t.
Their lips met softly, a question answered without words. It was gentle, exploratory, nothing like the imagined intensity Rhaenyra had built up in her mind and somehow better for it.
When they pulled back, both were smiling, a little dazed.
“Well,” Alicent murmured. “That was… clarifying.”
Rhaenyra laughed. “Yes. Very.”
They didn’t go further. They didn’t need to. The kiss settled something important, even as it opened new uncertainties.
Later, walking Alicent out into the cool night, Rhaenyra felt the familiar tug of fear again.
“This is real,” she said.
Alicent nodded. “It is.”
“And real things can… change.”
“Yes,” Alicent agreed. “But they can also grow.”
They stood close, fingers entwined.
“I don’t want to lose this,” Rhaenyra admitted.
“Neither do I,” Alicent said. “So let’s not.”
As Alicent walked away, Rhaenyra watched her go, heart aching and hopeful in equal measure.
Back in the empty studio, she sat at the console, running her fingers over the worn edges.
For so long, the radio had been a place to hide.
Now, it felt like the place where she’d finally started telling the truth.
The thing Rhaenyra hadn’t anticipated hadn’t wanted to anticipate was how visible it would become.
It started subtly.
An email to the station, innocuous on its face.
Love the show as always. Just wanted to say the chemistry lately has been electric. Whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.
Daemon had read it aloud during a pre show break, waggling his eyebrows like an idiot.
“You’re famous,” he said. “Or at least romantically suspicious.”
Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, but something tight coiled in her chest. “People read into things.”
“They do,” Daemon agreed. “But sometimes they’re also right.”
She didn’t respond to that.
Alicent, for her part, noticed it too but from the other side.
She was at home, curled into the corner of her couch, radio app open on her phone, when a caller made a joking comment on air.
“So,” the voice said, crackling through the speaker, “is it just me or does Rhaenyra sound… distracted lately?”
Daemon laughed. “She’s always distracted.”
“Hey,” Rhaenyra protested. “I’m deeply professional.”
“Mmhmm,” the caller replied. “Sure. Just saying someone’s got her attention.”
Alicent’s stomach dropped.
She turned the volume down, heart beating uncomfortably fast. It wasn’t jealousy not exactly. It was exposure. The sense that something delicate was being nudged into the light before she’d decided if she was ready for that.
Later that night, she texted Rhaenyra.
Alicent: Do people usually comment like that?
The reply came slower than usual.
Rhaenyra: Sometimes. Don’t worry about it.
Alicent stared at the words, unsatisfied. Don’t worry about it felt like a closed door.
The following week, Alicent didn’t come to the studio.
She still listened. Still texted. But when Rhaenyra asked casually, she hoped if she wanted to stop by, Alicent hesitated.
Alicent: Maybe another time. I’ve been tired.
Rhaenyra read the message three times, unease prickling at her skin.
Daemon noticed immediately. “She flinched.”
“She didn’t flinch,” Rhaenyra said.
“She retreated,” he corrected. “Different animal. Same problem.”
Rhaenyra sighed. “I don’t want to push her.”
“You don’t have to push,” Daemon said. “But you should ask.”
That night, after the show, Rhaenyra sat alone in the booth longer than usual, the dim lights casting long shadows across the walls. She pulled her phone out, thumb hovering.
Rhaenyra: Did I do something wrong?
The three dots appeared almost immediately. Then disappeared. Then reappeared again.
Finally:
Alicent: No. This is me.
Rhaenyra frowned.
Rhaenyra: That doesn’t tell me much.
Several minutes passed. Rhaenyra watched the seconds tick by on the console clock, each one louder than the last.
Alicent: I don’t know how to be part of something public.
The words landed heavy.
Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, understanding blooming alongside a sharp pang of fear. Of course. The show wasn’t just her job it was a community. A spotlight she’d learned to stand in without thinking.
For Alicent, it was different. Exposure wasn’t comforting. It was dangerous.
Rhaenyra: I can keep it private.
The response came slower this time.
Alicent: I know you mean that. But it’s still… around you.
Rhaenyra closed her eyes. She hadn’t realized how entwined everything had become how her safe space had quietly turned into a stage.
Rhaenyra: I don’t want to lose you.
The reply came quickly, almost too quickly.
Alicent: I don’t want that either.
But wanting wasn’t the same as knowing how.
The tension bled into the show whether Rhaenyra wanted it to or not.
Daemon clocked it instantly.
“You’re holding back,” he said during a song break.
“I am not.”
“You’re being careful,” he said gently. “You’re never careful.”
Rhaenyra rubbed her temples. “People are listening differently now.”
“And?”
“And Alicent hears it.”
Daemon nodded slowly. “Ah.”
That night, Rhaenyra chose her songs meticulously. Neutral. Safe. No longing. No vulnerability.
Listeners noticed.
Emails came in.
Everything okay? The vibe feels off.
Missing the spark lately.
Rhaenyra read them with a sinking heart.
After the show, she found Alicent waiting outside the building.
Her breath caught.
“Alicent?”
Alicent looked up, eyes soft but troubled. “I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner.”
Rhaenyra stepped closer, lowering her voice. “Talk to me.”
They walked together down the block, the city buzzing around them, impersonal and loud. They found a quiet corner near the closed bookstore, standing beneath a flickering streetlight.
“I’m not used to being… seen,” Alicent said. “Even indirectly.”
Rhaenyra nodded. “I know.”
“I like what we have,” Alicent continued. “I just don’t know how to hold it when it feels like it could slip into other people’s hands.”
Rhaenyra swallowed. “The show isn’t just mine. But you are.”
Alicent looked at her sharply. “That’s exactly what scares me.”
The honesty stung but it was real.
“I don’t want to trap you,” Rhaenyra said quietly. “I want to choose you. Freely.”
Alicent exhaled, tension shaking loose just a bit. “Then help me feel like I’m choosing too.”
They stood there for a long moment, the distance between them heavy with unsaid things.
“Can we slow it down?” Alicent asked. “Not stop. Just… anchor it somewhere that isn’t the airwaves.”
Rhaenyra nodded. “Yes. Absolutely.”
Relief washed over Alicent’s face but it was tinged with something else. Sadness, maybe. Or grief for the ease they were losing.
They hugged longer than usual, tighter. When they pulled back, neither smiled.
The slowing helped.
At first.
They stopped texting during the show. Alicent didn’t call in anymore not as Alicent, anyway. Rhaenyra avoided making on air remarks that could be read as personal.
Listeners speculated.
Daemon grumbled.
“This is censorship,” he complained.
“This is boundaries,” Rhaenyra replied.
Still, something felt… muted.
One night, after a particularly flat show, Rhaenyra found herself pacing her apartment, frustration buzzing under her skin. She missed the spontaneity. Missed the shared language they’d built in public and private alike.
She missed her.
She called Alicent.
Alicent answered on the second ring. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Rhaenyra said. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Alicent replied. Then, after a pause, “Are you?”
Rhaenyra laughed quietly. “I don’t know.”
They talked for hours that night. About fear. About expectations. About how both of them had tried to protect something precious by shrinking it and how that had hurt in its own way.
“I don’t want to disappear from your world,” Alicent said softly.
“You never have,” Rhaenyra replied. “You just… stepped out of the light.”
“I don’t want to dim you,” Alicent said.
“You don’t,” Rhaenyra said fiercely. “You steady me.”
Silence followed. Heavy. Honest.
“I think we need to renegotiate,” Alicent said finally.
Rhaenyra smiled, even though her eyes burned. “That sounds like you.”
The next show, Rhaenyra did something small but intentional.
Near the end of the night, she spoke carefully into the mic.
“Sometimes,” she said, “you realize the things that feel safest are also the ones that need the most trust. If you’re listening tonight and wondering whether to take a risk maybe it doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”
Daemon glanced at her, understanding dawning.
She played a song Alicent loved. No dedication. No explanation.
Alicent listened from home, hand pressed to her chest.
Later, she texted.
Alicent: Thank you for not erasing me.
Rhaenyra replied instantly.
Rhaenyra: Never.
They weren’t fixed.
But they were learning.
And in the feedback loop between fear and courage, they were starting to find a new signal one that belonged only to them.
The thing about static was that it wasn’t silence.
Rhaenyra had learned that early on learned it in sound engineering classes and late nights spent staring at waveform monitors, learned it again and again on air. Static was interference, not absence. Proof that something was trying to come through.
She thought about that a lot now.
It was Tuesday. The city had slipped into that familiar late hour hush, the kind that felt like an unspoken agreement. Rhaenyra arrived at the station earlier than usual, the halls still mostly empty, lights half dimmed like the building itself hadn’t fully woken up yet.
Daemon was already there.
He sat in the booth with a coffee balanced precariously on the console, scrolling through emails with exaggerated seriousness.
“You’re early,” he said without looking up.
“So are you.”
“I had a feeling,” he replied. “Also, the vending machine finally ate my money for good. I came to mourn.”
Rhaenyra smiled faintly, setting her bag down. “You’re very brave.”
“I know.” He glanced up at her then, expression sharpening just a little. “You okay?”
She considered lying. Then didn’t.
“I think so,” she said. “I’m… ready.”
Daemon studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “Good.”
She raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
“What, you want a speech?” he scoffed. “I save those for weddings and dramatic exits. But for what it’s worth” He softened. “You did the hard part.”
Rhaenyra exhaled, tension easing from her shoulders. “Thank you.”
“For the record,” Daemon added, standing, “if you break her heart, I will haunt you.”
Rhaenyra snorted. “You already do.”
“Exactly.”
He left her alone in the booth.
The clock ticked toward airtime. Rhaenyra adjusted her notes, her hands steady in a way that surprised her. Something had settled over the last few days not certainty, exactly, but resolve.
Her phone buzzed.
Alicent: I’m listening.
Rhaenyra smiled, warmth spreading through her chest.
Rhaenyra: I know.
The ON AIR light flicked on.
She leaned into the mic, voice clear.
“Good evening,” she said. “You’re listening to Dragonstone After Dark. I’m Rhaenyra. Tonight feels… quiet. In a good way. Like the kind of quiet where you can finally hear yourself think.”
Daemon murmured approvingly from his seat.
The show unfolded gently. A few callers. Soft laughter. Music chosen not to provoke or impress, but to accompany. Rhaenyra let herself be present not guarded, not performative.
Halfway through the show, the phone line blinked.
Daemon’s eyebrows lifted. He didn’t say anything.
Rhaenyra stared at the light for a heartbeat longer than necessary, then pressed the button.
“You’re on.”
There was a pause.
Then
“Hi.”
The voice was unmistakable.
Rhaenyra’s breath caught, but her voice stayed steady. “Hi.”
Daemon leaned back slowly, a grin tugging at his mouth.
“I hope it’s okay that I called,” Alicent said.
“It is,” Rhaenyra replied. “It always is.”
Alicent exhaled softly. “I just… wanted to say something. Briefly.”
Rhaenyra nodded, though Alicent couldn’t see it. “Take your time.”
“I used to think,” Alicent said, “that being heard meant being exposed. That if people knew too much, they could take something from you.”
Rhaenyra listened, heart pounding not from fear, but recognition.
“But I’ve learned,” Alicent continued, voice gaining strength, “that being heard can also mean being held. And that matters.”
Daemon glanced at Rhaenyra, eyes warm.
Rhaenyra leaned closer to the mic. “It does.”
Alicent paused. “I don’t want to hide anymore. Not from you.”
The words echoed through the booth, through the airwaves, through Rhaenyra’s chest.
“You don’t have to,” Rhaenyra said quietly.
“Good,” Alicent replied. “Because I don’t want to.”
The line clicked off.
The silence that followed wasn’t dead air.
It was full.
Daemon cleared his throat dramatically. “Well. If anyone needs me, I’ll be pretending I didn’t just witness the emotional climax of the season.”
Rhaenyra laughed, something bright and unburdened breaking free. “Thank you, Daemon.”
“Anytime,” he said. “You did good.”
The rest of the show passed in a soft blur. When the OFF AIR light finally dimmed, Rhaenyra didn’t linger this time.
She grabbed her jacket and headed for the door.
Alicent was waiting outside.
She stood beneath the streetlight, coat buttoned, hair pulled back, hands clasped loosely in front of her. When she saw Rhaenyra, her face lit up open, unguarded.
“You sounded beautiful tonight,” Alicent said.
Rhaenyra stepped closer. “You were very brave.”
Alicent smiled. “I learned from the best.”
They stood there for a moment, the city humming quietly around them. No rush. No audience.
“I meant what I said,” Alicent continued. “I don’t want to be on the sidelines of your life.”
Rhaenyra nodded. “I don’t want that either.”
“And,” Alicent added, a touch of nervousness creeping in, “I know this means… figuring things out. Boundaries. Balance.”
Rhaenyra reached for her hand, fingers warm and sure. “We’ll figure it out together.”
Alicent squeezed her hand. “I like the sound of that.”
They walked side by side down the street, steps naturally falling into sync. The diner on the corner was still open, neon sign buzzing faintly.
“Are you hungry?” Rhaenyra asked.
Alicent laughed. “Always.”
They slid into a booth by the window, the world outside softened by glass and distance. Over fries and coffee that tasted too much like nostalgia, they talked really talked. About what they wanted. About what scared them. About the ways they’d both learned to be careful, and how exhausting that could be.
“I don’t need you to choose me over your show,” Alicent said quietly. “I just need to know there’s room for me.”
“There is,” Rhaenyra replied without hesitation. “There always was. I just didn’t know how to make it clear.”
Alicent reached across the table, brushing her thumb over Rhaenyra’s knuckles. “You’re learning.”
“So are you,” Rhaenyra said, smiling.
When they kissed this time, it was unhurried. Certain. The kind of kiss that didn’t ask questions it answered them.
Later, as they stepped back out into the night, Alicent paused.
“One more thing,” she said.
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to be a secret,” Alicent said gently. “But I don’t need to be a spectacle either.”
Rhaenyra nodded. “We’ll choose what we share. Together.”
Alicent smiled, relief softening her features. “That’s all I wanted.”
The next week, the emails poured in.
Some curious. Some celebratory. Some simply grateful.
Whatever changed, thank you. The show feels… honest again.
Daemon read them aloud with smug satisfaction.
“Told you,” he said. “Listeners can smell bullshit.”
Rhaenyra laughed, glancing at Alicent, who sat comfortably in the corner of the booth now, book in hand, presence easy and unintrusive.
“Ready?” Daemon asked, sliding into his seat.
Rhaenyra nodded. She leaned into the mic.
“Good evening,” she said. “You’re listening to Dragonstone After Dark. Tonight, we’re talking about connection. The kind that doesn’t demand anything from you just asks that you stay.”
She caught Alicent’s eye through the glass.
Alicent smiled back.
The song played warm, steady, full of promise.
For the first time in a long while, there was no static.
Just a clear channel.
And two people finally listening to each other, without fear.