Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alicent Hightower sits behind her desk in the middle of Hightower Publishing’s minimalist-decorated office, hands sliding across the keys of her computer as she sends off another e-mail. Her eyes are laser-focused on the screen in front of her, twisting the many rings on her fingers as the TV plays in the background: something, something, Alicent’s short-lived marriage. To be fair, Alicent tried. Gods how she tried, Criston Cole was a decent enough guy, sure, and her father didn’t hate him so that was a plus, but there is just something about him… other than the obvious fact that Criston Cole was a man and Alicent Hightower was an incredibly closeted lesbian, something about him just seemed to push her buttons the wrong way. Alicent glances up and around her office, eyes landing on the chessboard on the coffee table in front of her. With a tired sigh, Alicent closes her laptop and pushes it to the side, dark brown eyes gliding again focusing on the chess set.

Rising, she strides across the room and leans back against the table, eyes gliding over the pieces. Alicent picks up a piece, the Rook, feeling the cool weight of the black piece in her hand until her eyes flick up and catch sight of white-blonde hair through the glass surrounding her office. Fucking great, just what she needed. The girl waved—not really a girl, she was twenty-four, but in Alicent’s eyes, who was eight years her senior, she was barely out of diapers, and Alicent leaned her head over her shoulder, rolling her eyes and urging Rhaenyra to enter. The door opens as Rhaenyra steps inside, heels quietly hitting the polished hardwood floor.

"I hope I'm not interrupting you," she says, eyes taking in the room's interior before settling on Alicent, making her way further into the office.

While reaching for a knight piece, Alicent looks up, the cold gaze she usually reserved for meeting with business partners softened the moment she lays eyes on Rhaenyra. A sigh of resignation slips past her lips as her hand drops to her side. Rhaenyra Targaryen, the ever-so-diligent paralegal, that Alicent only agreed to hire because she was Viserys’ daughter, and Otto kept bothering her about it. Sure, Rhaenyra had an impressive resume, and her last name opened doors not even Alicent herself had access to, but this was nothing more than a favour.

"You're always interrupting," She grumbles to no one in particular. "What do you want?" As Rhaenyra draws nearer, she takes the time to properly survey the newcomer, gaze roaming over her from head to toe. A small smirk appears on her face as the silence between them is filled by the drone of the TV. "It's rare to see you in anything other than a suit," she comments, her eyes roaming over the pale skin of Rhaenyra’s collarbone.

“I have a date," she replied, placing a stack of papers above Alicent’s coffee desk. Rhaenyra turned on her heels, showing off the dark red pullover she bought just for that. Not that Rhaenyra needed excuses to buy new clothes, of course.

"A date, hm?" Hightower’s eyes flick to the stack of papers, her gaze then returning to the lawyer. "Anyone I know?" Her hands find their way into her pockets as she rocks back and forth on her heels a few times. A part of her was already thinking of ways she could get out of whatever this was, but curiosity about this new piece of information had her hooked.  

“Nope.” Rhaenyra crosses her arms. “And you need to sign those.” 

"Of course, of course." She grabs the papers and glances over them, flipping through the different pages. Some official Hightower Publishing documents, NDAs, and what looked like an advertisement for a charity event. Placing the papers on her desk, an amused smile appears on Alicent's face as she sits back behind it, grabbing a pen. "So a date with a stranger, then?" She doesn't look at Rhaenyra, eyes focused on her task. Alicent wasn't in a position to pry—they weren't friends, and Rhaenyra's personal life was none of her business, but Alicent Hightower was nothing if not curious. Once the final paper is signed, Alicent looks up, her head resting on the back of her hand. There’s a final hint of annoyance in her eyes, clearly bored by this whole interaction. 

In all honesty, there was something about Rhaenyra that just drew Alicent in. That effortless charisma that covered every word spoken by her, low and eloquent. Something deep inside Alicent’s hipbones that just pulled towards Rhaenyra. How many times had she chastised herself for being this attracted to a coworker? No, not even that, an employee. It didn’t help that Rhaenyra Targaryen was indeed Alicent’s type: from the short, shaggy haircut to the straight hips, down to the tattoos and those slender hands, not to mention that whole androgynous look Rhaenyra had going on. Alicent couldn’t even remember the last time she had sex. No. Focus. Alicent needed to focus.

She takes a moment to read through the documents, making sure they do cover her ass before signing, one after another. The room is quiet, except for the low hum of the air conditioner. Rhaenyra just stands there, unbothered, face betraying no reaction, all business still. Once she's done, Alicent looks at them one last time, and then her eyes go over Rhaenyra's form for a moment as she makes her way back to the coffee table. Her gaze drifts to the door, eyes glancing at the pencil in Rhaenyra's hand, and all she could think about was how nice that same hand would feel wrapped around her thigh, or maybe even her neck. Alicent shakes that thought out of her mind immediately, gaze flickering to her watch. She sighs, shoulders slumping just slightly as Alicent looks in the paralegal's direction.

"Is there something else? I have a lot of work to do," she says impatiently, tapping the pen on her desk in a rhythm. Her voice is more tired than annoyed.

“No, I'm done here for the day.”

“Have a good date, then.” Alicent doesn't know what prompted her to say that. Maybe she was feeling just a little bit lonely. And then Rhaenyra smiles, which seemed to shock Alicent's conscious mind back into the forefront of her brain. She raised an eyebrow, amused but also slightly annoyed. "Don't mistake business for friendship," she retorted, her gaze unwavering. “I'm just being polite.”

Rhaenyra sighs dramatically, throwing her hands up in mock defeat. "Fine, fine, you heartless woman."

A slightly amused smile appears on her face, the cold demeanour slowly melting away as her eyes roam over Alicent. It was hard to tell which of the two enjoyed this little game they played more. The way they danced around this almost undeniable attraction, each one of them too proud to admit it. Alicent, ever the distant and unyielding one, while Rhaenyra herself was just along for the ride, but she knew deep down Alicent Hightower was out of her reach. Not to mention the fact that Rhaenyra only landed the paralegal position because of good old-fashioned nepotism, and Alicent had made numerous remarks about how she only hired Rhaenyra because Otto was doing her dad a favour.

Despite the obvious annoyance, a soft smile tugged at the corners of Alicent's mouth. She always found herself amused by Rhaenyra, albeit with her best efforts. There was just something about her that got under Alicent's skin and made her feel all sorts of things that she refused to acknowledge, so Alicent just cleared her throat, shifting awkwardly in her chair. 

"If you have other... matters to attend to," she said, gesturing towards the clock on the wall. "I have things I need to get done. People to contact and whatnot." Hightower leans back in the chair again, stoic expression back.

“I do.” She replied. “I have a very nice lawyer to kiss tonight.”

"A lawyer, huh?" she said, maintaining a calm and indifferent tone. “You do have a thing for people in power, don't you? " Alicent didn't mean it like that; she truly didn't, but as soon as the words came out of her mouth, the implications dawned on her. If Rhaenyra caught it, however, she didn't show.

Rhaenyra's lips curled up into a cocky grin, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Maybe I do." She leaned against the edge of the desk, purposely invading Alicent's personal space. Rhaenyra bent down, picking up a chess piece and moving it on the board. Fuck, Alicent had to actively not stare at her ass, the scent of Rhaenyra's perfume filling the air around them. It was strong and woody, a stark contrast to the usual sweet vanilla of the perfume Alicent used herself. The close proximity between them made her feel something, some kind of heat that she was not used to feeling. “Checkmate, boss.”

It was difficult not to look at Rhaenyra, and even harder not to stare. But she managed, somehow, to shift her gaze away from the younger girl's body. Taking in the state of the game, she groaned softly. "Damn it."

"See you tomorrow.”

"Yeah, yeah, see you," Alicent mutters, her voice filled with irritation. As Rhaenyra left the room, Alicent lets out a sigh and leans back in her chair. The office seems eerily quiet and still without her around. Alicent knows she should get back to work, but her mind is still occupied with their conversation and the lingering scent of Rhaenyra's perfume. She leans her head back and closes her eyes for a moment.

This was going to be a long day.

As the office gradually emptied out, Alicent found herself still stuck behind her desk, pretending to be engrossed in some work - anything to stay busy and keep her mind from wandering. She tried to look focused on her computer screen, but she couldn't stop herself from looking up every time someone passed by her office, her heart quickening with the irrational hope that it would be Rhaenyra. It wasn't, of course. It was just some other employee, leaving the building and heading home for the day. Finally, at around 8:00, all the lights in the building were extinguished, and Alicent was left alone.

Coming home to an empty apartment wasn’t all that bad, well, better than to come back to a man. Otto was still on her ass about the divorce, and how Alicent had only been married eight months before she petitioned for that manchild to get out of her life. She placed her bag near the front door, sighing as she did so, her feet hurt and her head throbbed, and the silence was welcomed. Alicent switched off her phone for the night, bare feet padding against rich hardwood floors as she made her way over to the kitchen. It was hard not to reach for the bourbon every night, but Alicent was aware alcoholism ran in her blood, and she really didn’t have the time to do all those therapies and AA meetings, so the redhead settled for a soda instead.

Alicent leaned against the cool marble counter, sipping her drink in the dim glow of the kitchen lights. The silence stretched around her, settling into her bones, not at all oppressive. It had been a long day. A long month. A long year, if she was being honest. Alicent exhaled slowly, pressing the chilled can against her forehead as she closed her eyes. Rhaenyra Targaryen. The name alone was enough to send an uncomfortable heat creeping up her spine. It was ridiculous, really. She had no business fixating on her. The woman was an employee, barely out of law school, a nepotism hire that Alicent had resented from the moment Otto insisted she take her on.

So why, then, did her absence feel so suffocating?

She opened her eyes and scowled at her own reflection in the glass cabinets. She had better things to think about. Deadlines, corporate takeovers, the next godforsaken email from her father. Not Rhaenyra’s stupid little smirk, or the way she always managed to get under her skin, or how she smelled like cedarwood and something sharp, something intoxicating. With a frustrated sigh, Alicent pushed away from the counter and strode toward the living room, collapsing onto the couch. She didn’t bother turning on the TV. It wasn’t like she had any interest in whatever manufactured gossip was being aired about her failed marriage. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, letting her mind wander.

I have a very nice lawyer to kiss tonight.

The words replayed in her head, and she could practically hear the smugness in Rhaenyra’s voice, and see the playful glint in her violet eyes. Who was she meeting? Someone from her firm? An older partner who took a liking to her? Maybe someone just as young, just as ambitious, someone who didn’t have the weight of a publishing empire crushing down on them, maybe someone who didn’t let their father control every single aspect of their life, maybe someone who wasn’t terrified about the thought that the whole world might now they’re a lesbian. Alicent clenched her jaw, irritation bubbling in her chest. Not your business, Hightower. But logic and reason did little to silence the gnawing feeling that seemed to always be there.

With an exasperated groan, she grabbed her phone from the coffee table, despite having sworn to leave it off for the night, pressing the on button until the screen lit up. She stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over Rhaenyra’s contact. It wasn’t like she was going to call her. Gods, no. That would be pathetic. She was just… checking. Justifying to herself that whatever this was, a passing curiosity, a meaningless distraction, field search, would fade soon enough. Instead, she swiped over to Instagram. Alicent wasn’t one for social media, but Rhaenyra was. She was obnoxiously online, sharing glimpses of her life with an ease that Alicent never understood. And, of course, there it was the latest post, time-stamped just forty minutes ago.

A picture of a dimly lit restaurant, candles flickering, a glass of red wine in the foreground. The caption was short. “Dinner with good company.” Alicent’s fingers twitched around her phone. She shouldn’t care. She really shouldn’t. And yet, she found herself clicking on the comments, skimming through the predictable reactions: laughing emojis, suggestive remarks, a few inside jokes from people Alicent didn’t recognize. And then one particular comment stands out among the others.

Try not to break her heart this time, Nyra.

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line. She didn’t know why that one got to her, why it settled deep in her stomach like a weight. Before she could think twice, she closed the app, tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her, and ran a hand down her face. Fuck this, honestly. Something inside her gut stirred, and Alicent hoped it was just indigestion, but deep down the Hightower heiress knew it was much more complicated than that. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Alicent knew her distaste for Rhaenyra served to hide something she wasn’t willing to admit, but that haunted her still. Alicent Hightower had a crush on Rhaenyra. Ugh. It sounded so childish. Alicent’s brain mocked her.

For a long, silent moment, she sat with the truth: her animosity toward Rhaenyra was merely a convenient shield for something far more vulnerable. And now, as the weight of that secret pressed in, Alicent wondered if she’d been denying herself far too long. Later that night, as darkness draped over her empty apartment, she found herself restless. The quiet was no longer comforting; it was accusatory, a mirror reflecting back every half-forgotten longing. Lying on her bed with the soft hum of the city outside, Alicent replayed the day’s subtle exchanges, Rhaenyra’s playful challenge, the spark in her eyes when they brushed against each other, the teasing lilt in her voice, the fact that she popped up into Alicent’s office under some flimsy excuse, just to be there. Every moment was a tantalizing reminder of the forbidden that had seeped into her carefully constructed world.

The evidence against her was daunting. The way she always noticed Rhaenyra before anyone else in a room. How she looked forward to their verbal sparring, even when it infuriated her. How she remembered the exact scent of Rhaenyra’s cologne and how it clung to her skin when she leaned in just a little too close. Alicent sat up, pulling a thin throw around her shoulders as she stared at the ceiling. How does one reconcile duty with desire? she mused silently. The Hightower name was synonymous with power and propriety, a legacy built on calculated ambition and emotional restraint. Yet, beneath that impenetrable veneer, a part of her longed to shatter the chains of expectation.

On the other side of town, Rhaenyra lied. She was currently in a pub, not with her date, because, truth be told, that girl was simply insufferable. The music was loud and most people there just had to shout their conversations over one another, but Rhaenya and Laena (ex-girlfriend turned best friend, the most lesbian thing ever), scored themselves a hidden enough table so they could actually hear each other.

“C’mon now, Nyra,” Laena said, placing down the largest mug of beer Rhaenyra ever saw. “How bad could she really be?”

“Like I was hoping for a stoke to get out of there bad.” She replied, running a hand over her messy hair. Rahenyra was effortlessly chic like that, Laena noticed quickly after meeting her. Everything about her just screamed charm.

“Bulshit.”

“By the old gods,” she promised.

Laena raised a perfectly arched brow, her expression the perfect mix of scepticism and amusement. “That bad?”

Rhaenyra groaned, tilting her head back against the booth. “Laena, I am telling you, the girl talked about herself the entire time. Like, non-stop. I could’ve been a house plant and it wouldn’t have made a difference.” She took a long sip of her beer before adding, “And she called me ‘babe’ within the first ten minutes. I barely even knew her last name.”

Laena winced. “Oof. Yeah, okay. That’s bad.”

“Thank you.” Rhaenyra gestured wildly with her mug. “And the worst part? She actually had the audacity to correct me when I called ‘Dance of The Dragons’ a cinematic masterpiece. Said it was ‘overrated.’”

Laena gasped dramatically, hand over her heart. “No.”

“Yes.”

“Thank the gods you fled. I would’ve called an intervention.”

Rhaenyra laughed, shaking her head. “It was painful. I couldn’t do it. I made up some bullshit excuse about a ‘work emergency’ and ran for my life.” She took another sip of beer, the cool bitterness grounding her.

Laena leaned in, eyes narrowing knowingly. “And yet, you didn’t go home. You came here. With me. Interesting.”

Rhaenyra groaned, closing her eyes before answering. “Oh, please, not this again.”

“Yes, this again.” Laena Velaryon smirked. “Let me guess: you’d rather spend the night with your favourite ex than sit alone in your room, replaying every moment of your conversation with Alicent fucking Hightower.”

Rhaenyra stilled, eyes flicking to Laena’s with something unreadable. She shifted, chewing on her lower lip.

Laena grinned, victorious.

“Piss off,” Rhaenyra muttered, taking another sip.

“Oh, sweetheart,” Laena cooed, resting her chin on her hand. “It’s so cute how much denial you’re in.”

“I am not in denial.”

“Mhm.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why did you hesitate just now?” Laena asked, eyes gleaming. Rhaenyra opened her mouth and then shut it.

Shit.

Laena laughed, sitting back in her seat. “Face it, Nyra. You’re obsessed. And honestly? I don’t blame you.” She took a slow sip of her drink before adding, “She’s hot in that ‘buttoned-up, repressed, needs-to-get-laid’ kind of way. Rumour has it she ended things with her ex-husband because she’s not into men at all.” There’s a pause. “Honestly I wished I was the one working directly under her.”

Rhaenyra snorted. “You are the worst.” Though that last part was sort of interesting.

“I am the best.” Laena winked. “And I’m right.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, but she couldn’t fight the small smirk tugging at her lips. Because, fuck. Maybe Laena was right. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to like the one woman she shouldn’t. Ugh, she always did this! Rhaenyra always fell for the wrong person, a string of failed relationships attached to her heart that weighed her down.

Laena must have seen the shift in Rhaenyra’s face because her teasing expression softened. “Hey,” she said, nudging Rhaenyra’s boot with her own under the table. “It’s not a crime to have a thing for someone complicated. Even if that someone happens to be your boss.”

Rhaenyra scoffed. “She’s not my boss.”

“She signs your paychecks.”

“Technicality.”

Laena smirked, sipping her beer. “Oh, so you admit you have a thing for her?”

Rhaenyra groaned, dragging her hands down her face. “That’s not what I said.”

“But it’s what you meant.”

Gods, this was infuriating. And worse? It wasn’t wrong. Because Laena was right—Rhaenyra had a type, and it was doomed. All her past relationships had been varying degrees of recklessness, from impulsive flings that burned out too fast to ones that dragged on well past their expiration date. And now? Now she was toeing dangerously close to falling for a woman who not only disliked her on principle but also made it very clear that their dynamic was nothing more than a business arrangement.

Except...

Alicent looked at her sometimes. Not just with irritation or exasperation, but something else. Something Rhaenyra pretended she didn’t notice because it was easier. Everyone knew Alicent Hightower was untouchable, the heiress simply was out of reach to anyone. Workplace relationships were always inappropriate, especially when involving the two biggest dynasties of King’s Landing, and their ties were as stable as frayed fabric. Sure, they grew up together, well, sort of. Whenever her father visited Otto, Alicent simply ignored Rahenyra and treated her as the annoying little pest she most likely was. 

Rhaenyra shook her head, and she feared Laena might’ve heard her pea-sized brain shaking inside of her skull. 

“I don’t like her,” Rhaenyra finally muttered, but it sounded weak even to her own ears.

Laena just raised an eyebrow. “Right. And I’m the Sea Snake.”

Rhaenyra glared. “Fuck you.”

Laena laughed, lifting her beer in a mock toast. “Already have, love. But at least I don’t lie to myself about it.”

Rhaenyra sighed, staring down at her drink. Maybe she was lying to herself. Maybe she was already halfway into something she couldn’t stop. And maybe, just maybe, it was too late to turn back now.

Laena just laughed, tipping her beer back as if Rhaenyra’s misery was the most amusing thing she’d ever witnessed. “You know,” she said, wiping the corner of her mouth, “for someone who doesn’t like Alicent, you sure spend a lot of time thinking about her.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, but her fingers tightened slightly around her glass. “You spend a lot of time talking about my nonexistent love life,” she shot back.

“I’d call it a very existent disaster,” Laena corrected, grinning. “And honestly? It’s more fun watching you suffer through this realization in real time.”

Rhaenyra groaned, tilting her head back against the booth. “I hate you.”

“No, you hate that I’m right.”

Before Rhaenyra could reply, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced down, expecting some halfhearted apology text from her failed date or maybe a reminder about work. Instead, it was from Alicent.

Hightower: Sorry to bother you at this hour. Did you send in the finalized contracts?

Business, of course. It was always business. But something about seeing Alicent’s name on her screen made Rhaenyra’s stomach do something annoying and stupid. Laena must have seen the way her expression shifted because she smirked. 

“Ah, and so the heart races,” she teased. “Tell her you’re too busy pining.” Rhaenyra shot her a glare before typing out a quick, professional reply.

Rhaenyra: i did. check your inbox.

A beat passed before another message came through.

Hightower: Good. Hope your date was good.
Hightower: Just not good enough.

Rhaenyra blinked. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Was it just an offhand comment? Or was there something else buried in the clipped words? She hesitated for a second longer than she should have before locking her phone and downing the rest of her drink in one go.

Laena just whistled. “Oh yeah. You’re so screwed.”

Rhaenyra let her head thunk against the table.

Yeah.

She really was.

Chapter Text

Alicent shouldn’t have sent that text.

It had been a passing thought, one she hadn’t meant to act on. But the words were already out in the world, sitting in Rhaenyra’s inbox, and there was no taking them back now. She told herself it didn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter. Rhaenyra’s personal life was none of her concern, and yet here she was, checking her phone like some restless idiot as if waiting for another reply. When none came, Alicent huffed out an irritated breath and tossed the device onto her nightstand, rolling onto her back against the silk sheets of her bed, auburn hair sprawled over the pillows. The ceiling stared back at her, indifferent. This was ridiculous. She had actual problems to deal with, problems that relied solely on her, problems with grave fucking consequences. The publishing house was in the middle of acquiring a new imprint, her father was pressuring her to attend yet another insufferable social event, and Criston had left another voicemail she didn’t have the patience to listen to—not to mention the very public divorce they were going through right now. The last thing she needed was to be preoccupied with Rhaenyra of all people. But the thought still clung to her like sweat on Alicent's skin. 

Alicent clenched her jaw.

No. She was not going down that road.

Sitting up, Alicent ran a hand through her hair, exhaling sharply. She needed a distraction. A reason to push this nonsense out of her head. And, as if on cue, her phone buzzed again. This time, it wasn’t Rhaenyra. It was her father.

Otto Hightower: Breakfast tomorrow. Wear something respectable.

Alicent closed her eyes briefly before typing back a short, obedient Fine. Breakfast, or whatever meal for that matter, with Otto meant one of two things: either he was about to scold her for some perceived failure, or he was going to introduce her to yet another business connection in the hopes of securing his legacy through her. Either way, it was bound to be miserable. And yet, Alicent found herself a little relieved, at least this way, she had something else to focus on. Something real. Even if it didn’t stop the nagging thought that tomorrow morning, while she sat through whatever dull conversation Otto had planned, she’d still be wondering how Rhaenyra’s night had ended.

And why the hell she even cared?

The morning came too soon. Alicent barely slept, though she refused to acknowledge why. It wasn’t because she spent half the night debating whether or not to check Rhaenyra’s social media for any evidence of how her date had gone. And it certainly wasn’t because she kept replaying their interaction in her office, even now that Alicent was getting ready to have breakfast with her father, eyes lost as she brushed out her hair, mind lost on the way Rhaenyra had leaned in too close, smelled too good, and looked too…

No. Absolutely not.

By the time she arrived at the private rooftop restaurant Otto had chosen—which to an outsider might've seemed a bit excessive, to close down an entire restaurant just to have breakfast with his daughter, but for those that knew Otto Hightower also knew his style. Alicent had perfected her usual composure. Her hair was sleek, smooth and shiny, her blouse crisp, her suit tailored down to the buttons, and her makeup sharp enough to cut through whatever bullshit her father had in store for her. He was already seated when she arrived, reading the morning paper like some old-fashioned relic, a hand idly stroking his beard as Otto often did when lost in thought. Alicent felt like a little girl again, but she pushed the feelings of inadequacy down, walking up to the table with her chin held high (and scared shitless). Next to him was a man Alicent had never seen before, mid-forties, well-dressed, and with the kind of self-satisfied expression that made her want to roll her eyes. A potential investor, then.

“Father,” she greeted coolly, sliding into her seat. Her eyes flicked briefly to the stranger. “And you are?”

“Ser Vaemond Velaryon,” the man introduced himself, extending a hand. His grip was firm, the kind of handshake men gave when they wanted to appear powerful. But Alicent could tell the ring on his finger was brass polished to appear gold. “A pleasure, Lady Hightower. If I may be so bold as to say you're even more beautiful in person.”

Alicent smiled tightly. 

Otto cleared his throat, cutting straight to business. “Vaemond is considering investing in Hightower Publishing. He’s particularly interested in our expansion into legal publications.”

Of course he was.

Alicent didn’t bother hiding her scepticism. “And what exactly do you know about publishing, Ser Vaemond?”

Vaemond smiled, unbothered. “I don’t have to know much about publishing to recognize a profitable endeavour. Your company is growing, and I’d like to be a part of that growth.”

Alicent sipped her coffee, unmoved. “That’s interesting, considering our legal team is already more than equipped to handle expansions.”

Otto shot her a warning glance, but she ignored it. She already knew where this conversation was headed. This wasn’t just about business. It was about control. And she hated it when Otto played this game. A game Alicent could never win.

Vaemond, however, seemed to enjoy the challenge. He leaned back in his seat, studying her with something like amusement. “I hear you’ve recently hired Rhaenyra Targaryen,” he said casually. “A curious choice, considering her… reputation.”

Alicent’s grip on her cup tightened.

“I wasn’t aware her employment was anyone’s concern but mine,” she replied evenly.

Vaemond smirked. “It’s just an observation. The Targaryens don’t have the best track record in business. Not to mention their family themselves have far too progressive in their views while following the old faith, it's an oxymoron.” That's not the correct use of the word, Alicent though. “I’d be cautious about who you keep close, Lady Hightower.”

Alicent felt something sharp settle in her chest. Something that felt a lot like defensiveness. Not that she would admit it. It was not her place to defend Rhaenyra's honour.

Instead, she placed her cup down carefully and folded her hands together. “I appreciate your concern, Ser Vaemond, but if you’re looking to dictate how I run my own company, you might find your investment better placed elsewhere.”

A slow silence stretched across the table, except for the clinking of Otto's spoon hitting the sides of his cup.

“The Targaryens are close to us.” Otto sighed heavily, clearly displeased, but Vaemond only chuckled, shaking his head. “Viserys is a good and honorable man.” The Hightower patriarch seemed to speak more out of a sense of quid pro quo than actual fondness for his so-called best friend. “Though I agree he does tend to be quite slovenly when it comes to his children.”

“I can see why your father speaks so highly of you.” Vaemon said, unprovoked. Alicent just arched a brow, unimpressed. He raised his glass slightly in mock surrender. “Very well, Lady Hightower. Consider me properly warned.”

She didn’t reply.

“Vaemond comes from a strong family,” Otto said smoothly. “One with a great deal of influence. A partnership between Hightower and Velaryon would be mutually beneficial… in more ways than one.”

There it was. Alicent barely managed to suppress the sigh clawing its way up her throat. A quick and fleeting thought popped into her head, and she hoped the tightness in her throat was an allergic reaction to the mushrooms on her plate. Gods, another one. Alicent prayed for The Mother, ever merciful, to give her a heart attack and spare her of this misery.

Vaemond simply smiled, as if he and Otto had already discussed this in detail. “Your father has spoken highly of you,” he repeated as if Alicent hadn't heard him the first time, sipping his drink. “And I must admit, he’s made an excellent point. A woman of your status, unmarried, no children is quite the rarity.”

Alicent’s jaw tightened. Not single, divorced. She wanted to say. Alicent picked up her cup, the tea hot as she placed the porcelain to her mouth.

“Not for lack of trying, of course,” Otto added as if her disastrous marriage to Criston Cole was something Alicent had personally failed at. “But the past is the past. And now, it’s time to think of the future.” Alicent did sigh this time, setting down her cup with a little too much force. Because, of course, Otto still didn’t know.

Or, perhaps, he refused to know.

He still thought Alicent’s reluctance to marry was due to high standards, not the fact that the idea of being with a man made her want to fling herself off the nearest balcony or claw the skin off her body. Or the fact that she managed to sleep with her husband—ex-husband, once she signed the papers—three times in the eight months they were married. Or maybe Otto had simply given up on Gwayne, her younger brother, whose own failures as a Hightower heir were too numerous to count. Otto had spent years trying to turn him into something worthwhile, only to realize that, between his son and daughter, Alicent was the only one remotely capable of maintaining the family legacy. And what better way to secure that legacy than by pushing her into another marriage? One with a nobleman, a businessman, a man who could give him the grandchildren Otto so desperately wanted. Fuck, the press still hadn't even died down about her divorce yet her father was pushing someone else onto her.

Alicent clenched her jaw, biting back every sharp retort she wanted to throw in her father’s face. Instead, she smiled, slow and cold. “I appreciate the concern, father,” she said, her voice like polished steel. “But I fail to see how my personal life has anything to do with Hightower Publishing.”

Vaemond chuckled again, as if this was all terribly amusing to him. “You don’t take well to being told what to do.”

Alicent met his gaze evenly. “No, I don’t.”

Otto sighed heavily, clearly displeased, but Vaemond only shook his head, smirking as if this was just a minor setback.

“Well,” he said, “perhaps we should revisit this conversation another time.”

Alicent simply placed another bite into her mouth. As if she had already forgotten about him. Because, truth be told, the only thing she could think about was how much she suddenly wanted to call Rhaenyra. 

Sunlight seeped through the tinted windows of the Red Keep, flowing into the bedroom in coloured light. Rhaenyra woke up to the sound of her alarm blaring like a war horn, head pounding in protest, one of the seven she set up every morning because Rhaenyra could not be trusted when it came to oversleeping. She groaned, rolling over, only to find her face colliding with someone else’s shoulder. A warm, bare shoulder.

Shit.

Blurry memories filtered in. Beer, laughter, ditching Laena at some point, a woman’s hand on her thigh, flashes of bodies tangled together while Rhaenyra wasn't fully there. Not that she was thinking of someone else, no, she'd never do that. Right. She cracked open one eye, glancing down at the figure beside her. A woman, brunette, sharp features, sprawled lazily across the sheets, her arm thrown carelessly over Rhaenyra’s naked waist. Rhaenyra could tell she was beautiful, even in sleep, but for the life of her, she couldn’t remember her name.

Double shit.

Rhaenyra sighed, running a hand over her face before gently—carefully so—sliding out from under the woman’s arm. The sheets were warm and soft and inviting, and Rhaenyra mentally chastised herself, urging her to get up. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, blinking against the sunlight streaming through the half-open curtains, eyes filling with tears. Her phone was on the nightstand, face down. When she flipped it over, she was met with no less than a million texts from Laena. 

Laena: D ude

Laena: U alive?

Laena: U better be at work on time, babe

Laena: …u do remember u have work, right?

Laena: Rhaenyra?

Laena: Bitch, wake up

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra muttered under her breath, rubbing her temples as she felt the familiar throb flair up inside her head. Looking at the clock on her wall, she had twenty minutes before she had to be at Hightower Publishing. Which meant ten minutes to get dressed, five minutes to debate whether or not she actually needed this job, and five minutes to rethink her life choices.

Great.

Rhaenyra pushed to her feet, feeling the slight ache in her muscles as she walked silently towards her bathroom, the cold tile at least a little bit grounding. A glance in the mirror confirmed what she already suspected—her hair was a disaster, her makeup from last night was smudged, and she looked exactly like someone who made yet another impulsive decision. Not that she regretted it. Rhaenyra Targaryen didn’t do regret. She just… maybe wished she had picked a night where she didn’t have to immediately go to work afterwards. Behind her, the woman stirred, stretching like a cat before blinking awake.

Rhaenyra met her gaze in the mirror. “Morning,” she offered, voice still rough with sleep.

The woman smirked. “Morning,” she echoed, propping herself up on one elbow. There was a beat of silence. Then, mercifully, she said, “I should probably go.” Her eyes danced around Rhaenyra’s large room, and she cringed inside a little bit. And to think her childhood drawings were still on the walls. Her family tended to stay in one place, together, which meant Rhaenyra was often bringing girls home into the same bedroom she had her diapers changed in. It was an odd sense of comfort. At least her home was big enough, well less of a home more of an estate, to not stumble with her family this early in the morning. She silently thanked the gods for that, the last thing Rhaenyra wanted was her fuck ass little brother Daeron pestering her about it. Not to mention Aegon, ugh. Helaena was the only one she liked, really.

Rhaenyra exhaled, relieved. “Yeah.”

Another smirk. “Not much of a breakfast-in-bed type?”

“I don’t even eat breakfast.”

The woman laughed, then sat up, dragging the sheets with her. “Fair enough.”

She didn’t seem offended, which Rhaenyra appreciated. Some people got attached, wanted numbers exchanged, promises of I’ll call you whispered into skin as if both of them had a future together. This one? She was already reaching for her dress. Rhaenyra liked her a little more for that.

“I’ll let myself out,” the woman said, slipping on her heels like a professional.

Rhaenyra nodded, already halfway into her closet, searching for something, anything, that didn’t scream I had a one-night stand and overslept. She was pulling on a blouse when she heard the door click shut. With a sigh, Rhaenyra grabbed her phone, checked the time (fifteen minutes to go. Fuck), and sent Laena a quick text:

Rhaenyra: alive. getting ready. fuck off.

Laena’s response was immediate.

Laena: Lmao Alicent is gonna eat u alive

Laena: Sure u don’t need me to come rescue u?

Laena: Or do u need coffee and a gun?

Rhaenyra snorted.

Rhaenyra: coffee. keep the gun on standby.

She shoved her phone into her bag, ran a hand through her messy hair, a makeup wipe to her face, deciding that maybe brushing your teeth in the morning wasn't necessary, and took one last glance in the mirror. Alright. Time to survive another day at work. And more importantly, time to survive Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra grabbed her keys and a protein shake from the fridge, kissed Syrax the cat on the forehead and headed out, slamming the door behind her. The air was crisp, the kind of cool that hinted at the slow transitions between seasons, and she hoped winter wouldn’t last as long this time. Rhaenyra took a deep breath, blinking against the sunlight, and made her way to her car. A sleek, black sedan awaited her that was way too nice for a paralegal’s salary, but made perfect sense when you had a last name like Targaryen. Nepotism had its perks, after all.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, she threw her bag onto the passenger side, started the engine, and connected her phone to the Bluetooth. The speakers crackled to life, filling the car with music as she pulled onto the road. The drive to work wasn’t long, but it gave her just enough time to think, which was, frankly, the last thing she needed. She tapped her fingers against the steering wheel, her thoughts drifting toward Alicent. Again.

Alicent fucking Hightower.

It wasn’t fair, really, how much space she took up in Rhaenyra’s mind. It wasn’t just that she was breathtakingly beautiful in that maddeningly composed way, or that she carried herself with the kind of quiet power that made people sit up and listen. It was the fact that, despite every effort to keep Rhaenyra at arm’s length, despite the clipped words and carefully constructed walls, Alicent still let her in—just enough to keep her hooked. And now? Now she was sending texts like I don’t know how to fix this. Rhaenyra sighed, switching lanes a little too aggressively as she sped past a slow-moving car. She shouldn’t read too much into it (but she absolutely was). A red light forced her to a stop, and she drummed her fingers against the wheel, glancing at her phone. No new messages.

Not that she was expecting one.

Still, she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for it, unlocking the screen just to scroll mindlessly through notifications, anything to stop herself from thinking about how Alicent looked at her yesterday, about the way her voice softened for just a second before she snapped back into the version of herself that kept Rhaenyra at a distance. Maybe even hoped for an angry text from her boss. The light turned green. She tossed the phone back onto the passenger seat and pressed her foot to the gas. Fifteen minutes later, Rhaenyra was pulling into the underground parking lot of Hightower Publishing. Another day of pretending she didn’t notice the way Alicent’s gaze lingered a second too long or the way her own chest tightened every time their fingers brushed. Fuck this. Rhaenyra sighed, shutting off the car and leaning her head against the seat for a moment.

“You're late.” Alicent’s voice was clipped, sharp like the edge of a blade sliding between Rhaenyra’s ribs as she entered past her office. Shit, her plans for clocking in unnoticed went down the drain. Seemed she wasn’t in the mood for small talk. Not that she ever was.

Rhaenyra froze in the doorway, caught like a deer in headlights. “Technically,” she started, glancing at the clock on the far wall, “I have three minutes left before I’m officially late.”

Alicent didn’t even look at her, fingers flying over her keyboard with an almost angry precision. “Three minutes, Rhaenyra,” she muttered, tone dripping with irritation. “How responsible of you.”

Rhaenyra smirked, stepping further into the office. “I do my best.”

Alicent let out a humourless scoff, finally glancing up. Dark brown eyes swept over Rhaenyra’s slightly rumpled blouse, the way her blazer was hanging a little looser than usua,like she had thrown it on in a rush. Alicent’s gaze narrowed, lips pressing into a thin line as if piecing something together. “You’re not presentable.”

Rhaenyra simply lifted an eyebrow, deliberately slow as she leaned against the chair opposite Alicent’s desk. “What, you gonna lecture me about workplace ethics now?”

Alicent huffed, shaking her head. “I don’t have time to waste lecturing you on something you’ll ignore anyway.” She grabbed a stack of papers from her desk, thrusting them in Rhaenyra’s direction. “Legal needs to review these by the end of the day. And if I hear so much as one complaint about you missing a deadline…”

“Gods, relax,” Rhaenyra interrupted, taking the documents from Alicent’s hands. “I won’t. You’re gonna give yourself wrinkles. Besides, you’re often late, too.”

Alicent blinked. Blinking was dangerous. It meant she was recalibrating, assessing whether Rhaenyra was worth responding to. Finally, she just inhaled sharply and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“If I ever come in late,” she muttered, half to herself, “it’s because I was doing something important. And I’m your boss in this situation.”

“Oh?” Rhaenyra’s smirk grew, shifting her weight against the chair. “And what’s your excuse, then?”

Alicent’s eyes flickered, just for a second, before her walls slammed back into place. “Working.” Of course. Alicent Hightower probably didn’t do distractions. Not like Rhaenyra. The realization shouldn’t have bothered her. It shouldn’t have made something uncomfortable settle in the pit of her stomach. But it did. And she hated that.

Still, Rhaenyra simply shrugged. “Well, I was working on something important, too.”

Alicent looked unimpressed. “Dating is not important, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra grinned, tilting her head. “Depends on who you ask.”

Alicent exhaled sharply, closing her laptop with a little more force than necessary. She placed both hands flat on the desk, levelling Rhaenyra with that look. The one that made junior employees shrink in fear. But Rhaenyra? She just leaned in closer. A beat of silence passed. Then:

“If you’re done wasting my time,” Alicent said coolly, “get out of my office.”

“Not even a ‘good morning’?”

Alicent’s expression was unreadable, her face an exquisite mask of indifference. “You don’t deserve one.”

“Fair enough.”

She pushed off the chair, turning on her heel, but not before catching the slightest flicker of something in Alicent’s gaze. Something almost curious. Rhaenyra didn’t dwell on it.

“Make sure you’re at least presentable next time.” Her voice echoed once Rhaenyea’s hand reached for the door, and she straightened her back involuntarily. “This is a serious company, and don’t forget that what keeps you here is my esteem for your father.”

Rhaenyra didn’t reply, pushing the door open, because the moment she was out of that office, she could breathe again. And she really didn’t want to think about why that was. Rhaenyra walked to her office with robot-like precision, the papers in her hand feeling suddenly a lot heavier than they were. She dropped the documents above her desk with a loud thud. 

Her phone buzzed.

Hightower: It's not you.

Came a text message when Rhaenyra sat down at her desk. Then another.

Hightower : Not entirely. Had to yell at someone, and you being late was just an excuse.
Hightower: I won’t apologize, however. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at her screen. Well, well, well. Alicent Hightower, of all people, sending her text messages? Unprompted? And admitting she had just used Rhaenyra as an excuse to vent? This was new. Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, fingers hovering over her phone’s keyboard before she smirked and typed:

Rhaenyra: so you do have emotions.

She watched the typing bubble appear, then disappear. Appear again. Disappear. Rhaenyra grinned.

Hightower: Shut up.

Rhaenyra stifled a laugh, biting her lip.

Rhaenyra: who pissed you off enough to make me your emotional punching bag?

A pause.

Hightower: No one important.

Which meant someone important. And Rhaenyra had a feeling she knew exactly who. She drummed her fingers on her desk, debating if she should push. She absolutely should.

Rhaenyra: oh come on.
Rhaenyra: your father again?

A longer pause.

Hightower: You’re insufferable.

Bingo.

Rhaenyra: what did he do this time?

Silence. Rhaenyra’s smirk faded slightly.

Rhaenyra: Ali.

She never used that nickname. Not anymore. Not since they were younger, before everything got complicated, before Alicent became Hightower and Rhaenyra became Targaryen and their worlds collided like clashing swords. Not like they were ever that close growing up, time made sure of it; Alicent always regarded Rhaenyra like a little sister, an annoyance she had to put up with. Though, sometimes, times as rare as a shooting star, she'd let little Rhaenyra get close. Alicent would let her play in her bedroom, snoop through her makeup and clothes, read to her sometimes, and tell her teenage gossip. It was before, of course, before Otto sent her away to that boarding school and Rhaenyra lost the tiny space she had in Alicent's heart. The gods were tricksters like that. Alicent took her time responding. Too long, really. Rhaenyra watched the typing bubble appear, then vanish, then reappear again, as if whatever Alicent wanted to say was teetering on the edge of being spoken before she swallowed it down like everything else.

Hightower: It's nothing. Drop it.

Rhaenyra exhaled through her nose, shaking her head. Classic. She drummed her fingers against the desk, debating. She should leave it. But Rhaenyra had never been particularly good at leaving things alone.

Rhaenyra: if it’s nothing, why are you still thinking about it?

The typing bubble appeared again. Stalled. Vanished.

Hightower: You’re at work. Get back to it.

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes.

Rhaenyra: you started this conversation.

Hightower: And I’m ending it.

Rhaenyra smiled, tossing her phone onto her desk. Right. Sure. Alicent could pretend all she wanted, but Rhaenyra knew the truth now. Alicent Hightower wasn’t as cold and indifferent as she tried to be. She felt things. She got angry, she got frustrated, and she let it slip just enough for Rhaenyra to notice. And that? That was dangerous. But it made things interesting. A knock at her door pulled her out of her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called, already stretching back in her chair like a cat, rolling her shoulders.

The door creaked open, and Laena strolled in, (because, oh, maybe Rhaenyra forgot to mention, but not only she had a thing for doomed people, but Rhaenyra also had a thing for co-workers—not that they worked in the same department, Rhaenyra was not a savage) looking way too smug for this early in the morning. She had two coffees in hand, which meant she probably wanted something.

“Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” Laena said, setting one of the cups on Rhaenyra’s desk before sliding into the chair opposite her.

“There's my favourite outsource journalist.” Rhaenyra took it without hesitation, sipping. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“I know.” Laena propped her chin on her hand, eyes glinting. “So. How’s your morning been? Enjoying your little power struggle with your terrifyingly repressed boss?”

She gave her a flat look.

Laena laughed, kicking her feet up onto the desk. “Oh, come on. It’s written all over your face. You’ve been thinking about her all morning.”

Rhaenyra scoffed. “That’s a strong accusation.”

Laena only grinned, sipping her own coffee. “And yet, not a denial.”

Rhaenyra groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. She sighed, staring down into her coffee like it might hold the answers to all her problems. It didn't. Maybe she was thinking about Alicent too much. Maybe she was noticing too much. The way her jaw clenched when she was irritated, the way her fingers lingered just a little too long when she handed Rhaenyra a document, the way she… Nope.

Rhaenyra sat up abruptly. “I need to work.”

Laena snorted. “Right. Work. That’s what we’re calling it now?”

Rhaenyra threw a crumpled-up sticky note at her. “Get out of my office.”

Laena laughed but stood, stretching lazily. “Fine, fine. Just don’t let her bite your head off. Or do. I don’t judge.”

Rhaenyra pointed at the door. Laena winked before strolling out, leaving Rhaenyra alone with her thoughts.

She sighed, spinning slightly in her chair, and tapping her fingers against her desk. She had work to do. Actual work. Not whatever this was, this infuriating, distracting fixation. And yet, as she reached for the first contract in her stack, her eyes flickered, just for a second, to her phone. She wondered if Alicent was thinking about her, too. Sure, Alicent probably wasn't, because, truth be told, it was clear that the Hightower heiress tolerated Rhaenyra on a good day, and wanted to choke on the worst ones. Wait, that was kinda hot.

Rhaenyra managed to get through about thirty minutes of work before she gave up pretending to focus. The legal contracts in front of her blurred together, the words bleeding into one another in a way that made her head throb. Normally, she didn’t mind the tediousness of reviewing documents—legalese had a strange kind of rhythm to it, a puzzle she was usually good at solving. But today? Today, her brain was stuck elsewhere. And ‘elsewhere’ had auburn hair, sharp brown eyes, and a permanent expression of barely restrained exasperation. Rhaenyra huffed and leaned back in her chair, rubbing at her temples. This was ridiculous. She was ridiculous.

Alicent was just her boss. Technically.

And yet.

She felt something settle in her chest, something smug, dangerous, something that made her stomach feel like it was caught in freefall. Maybe she was playing with fire. and when lunchtime rolled around, Rhaenyra decided to skip the usual café down the block and take a little detour to Alicent’s office for lunch. Not that she’d made it an official decision, but when she looked at the time and saw the email inbox full of requests for signatures, she couldn’t resist the thought of spending some time in Alicent’s imposing, yet strangely welcoming, space. It wasn’t a typical CEO-paralegal dynamic, but it was complicated in its own way. Their families were best friends, sure, but there was always that barrier, an invisible line that Rhaenyra crossed on a regular basis without thinking much of it.

The memory of their conversation. Alicent’s messages, her sharp words softened by something Rhaenyra couldn’t quite name, kept replaying in her head like a song she couldn’t turn off. She glanced at her phone again, fingers twitching. No new messages. Right. Of course not. Rhaenyra wasn’t exactly sure what she was expecting. An apology? A confession? Alicent wasn’t the type. The woman probably buried every emotion she had six feet under and marked the grave ‘DO NOT DISTURB.’ Still. Before she could fully process the impulse, Rhaenyra picked up her phone and typed out a message.

Rhaenyra: you still mad or can i come bug you again?

The read receipt popped up almost immediately. Then, after a few long seconds.

Hightower: I’m working.

Rhaenyra: so you’re still mad.

Hightower: I didn’t say that.

Rhaenyra grinned. Got her.

Rhaenyra: good, because annoying you is the best part of my day.

There was a long pause. Long enough that Rhaenyra thought maybe she’d pushed too far until finally, a reply came through.

Hightower: If you’re going to waste my time, at least bring me a coffee.

Rhaenyra stood outside the door to Alicent’s office a moment later, looking down at the lunch she’d picked up: two sandwiches and Alicent's coffee, nothing special, but something to break up the monotony of the day. She wasn’t sure if Alicent would welcome the interruption, but that only made it more tempting. She pushed the door open. Alicent was at her desk, phone in hand, typing furiously. The office was quiet, too quiet for a place that housed so much power. But it was always like this: minimalistic, functional, and cold in a way that made it feel like the whole space was designed to keep people at arm's length.

“Hey,” Rhaenyra said casually, stepping into the office. She felt that familiar tension simmers in the air, but she also felt the strange pull that made her linger just a moment longer than necessary.

Alicent didn’t look up at first, keeping her attention focused on her phone. But after a beat, she glanced at Rhaenyra, a flash of something. Maybe surprise, maybe resignation, flickering in her eyes before she wiped it away with a stiff smile. “You did bring me coffee,” she said dryly, a hint of sarcasm in her voice, but it wasn’t as cold as it usually was.

“I’m not here to ask for favors,” Rhaenyra replied with a defensive grin, setting the sandwiches down on the desk between them. “Just thought you might need a break.”

Alicent’s gaze flickered over the sandwiches for a moment before settling back on Rhaenyra, and Rhaenyra could’ve sworn there was a small sigh of resignation from her. “You don’t really take hints, do you?” Alicent said, her voice still businesslike, but there was something less icy about it.

“Only the ones that matter,” Rhaenyra smirked, placing the cup with an exaggerated flourish. “A ‘thank you’ would be nice.” She said with a teasing tone, unwrapping her sandwich. She could feel the tension building, the familiar undercurrent between them—this strange blend of familiarity and distance. Their fathers had been friends for years, and they’d known each other for just as long, but something always held them back. Alicent gave her a deadpan look before picking up the cup and taking a sip. She hummed in approval, though, of course, she’d never admit that Rhaenyra had remembered her exact order.

Rhaenyra sat down across from Alicent, kicking back in her chair as if she had every right to be there. “I thought we could catch up. I mean, we haven’t exactly had a proper conversation in a while.”

Alicent closed her eyes briefly, as if physically restraining herself from throwing something at Rhaenyra’s head. She took another sip of coffee, probably to keep from saying something she’d regret and Rhaenyra tried not to focus on the way her lips wrapped around the plastic rim. Rhaenyra was always mesmerized by her, ever since she was a little child.

Alicent raised an eyebrow, her lips tight as she regarded Rhaenyra. “Is that what you think? A proper conversation?”

“Yeah,” Rhaenyra said, tearing into her sandwich. “I mean, we talk about work all the time. Just the... other stuff.”

The air felt charged now, like Alicent was silently weighing her options. She didn’t want Rhaenyra too close, not too close to whatever was buried beneath that polished exterior, but at the same time, Rhaenyra’s presence had a magnetic pull, something Alicent couldn’t seem to ignore, no matter how hard she tried.

“I’m not going to open up about my personal life,” Alicent finally said, her voice firm as she set down her phone. But the look in her eyes, fleeting, guarded, told Rhaenyra there was more to the story than she was willing to admit.

“That’s not what I’m asking for,” Rhaenyra replied lightly, finishing her sandwich. She leaned back, her eyes studying Alicent, gauging her reaction. “I don’t need your life story. Just a few minutes of not pretending we’re strangers.”

There it was again, the line between them, thin and fragile. Alicent, poised and untouchable, still somehow unable to fully keep Rhaenyra at arm’s length. They’d known each other far too long for that kind of distance. But just because they were close in a way no one else could understand didn’t mean they were close in the way Rhaenyra wanted. Alicent’s silence was more telling than any answer could’ve been. She didn’t push Rhaenyra away, didn’t tell her to leave. She simply let the moment linger. It was subtle, but to Rhaenyra, it felt like a victory.

“So. Who pissed you off this morning?”

Alicent’s eyes flicked up, a frown pulling at her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “Right. You’ve only been brooding since sunrise. And you used me as an excuse to take out your anger earlier.” She tilted her head, studying Alicent like a puzzle she was halfway through solving. “I’m guessing it was your father?”

Alicent exhaled sharply through her nose. A reaction, even if it was a small one.

Bingo.

Rhaenyra leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. “What does Daddy Dearest want this time?”

Alicent shot her a sharp glare. “None of your business.”

“Oh, come on. You texted me, remember? That means I’m involved now.” There’s a pause. “Besides, I know your father.”

Alicent reached for her sandwich, though she only played with the wrapper. “He wants me to marry,” she admitted finally, voice clipped. “Again.”

Rhaenyra blinked. Oh. Of all the things she’d expected, that wasn’t one of them. She sat back slightly, watching the way Alicent’s jaw tensed, her grip tightening around her coffee cup like she wanted to crush it.

“Like, an arranged marriage?” Rhaenyra asked, frowning.

Alicent scoffed. “Not officially. But he made it very clear that he’s expecting me to consider a ‘suitable match’.”

Rhaenyra’s frown deepened. She hated that. The idea of Alicent being pushed into something. The idea of some man with too much money and too little personality sitting across from her at some fancy dinner, discussing her future like she wasn’t even there. The idea of Alicent being with someone else. Rhaenyra didn’t like that thought. At all. Not to mention the fact that everyone knew Alicent was a huge fucking dyke except her father. Still, the thought stirred something bitter and unsettling inside of her.

“And what do you think about that?” She asks, cautious.

“What I think is unimportant.” Alicent’s reply was almost a reflex.

Rhaenyra’s lips pressed into a thin line. What I think is unimportant. It was so Alicent: cold, detached like her own wants and needs was just another thing she was expected to sacrifice. Rhaenyra had half a mind to reach across the desk and shake her. But she didn’t.

Instead, she leaned back in her chair, arms crossing loosely over her chest. “Well, that’s bullshit.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked up, sharp as a knife. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Rhaenyra shrugged as if she hadn’t just challenged the foundation of Alicent Hightower’s entire existence. “It’s bullshit. Your father doesn’t get to dictate your life, and you damn well know it.”

Alicent scoffed, setting her coffee down a little too forcefully. “Spoken like someone who’s never had to bear the weight of an entire company on her shoulders.”

“Right, because you are the only person who’s ever had responsibilities,” Rhaenyra shot back, tone dry. “Come on, Alicent. You run this company better than he ever did. You think anyone—anyone—could force you into something you didn’t want?”

Alicent exhaled sharply through her nose, but she didn’t answer. Because the truth was that Rhaenyra was right. And they both knew it.

Rhaenyra tilted her head, watching her. “So? What are you gonna do?”

Alicent hesitated, her nails digging into the cardboard of her coffee cup. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and it killed her to say it. “I suppose I’ll entertain his suggestions for the sake of peace.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened. “Peace for who?”

Silence.

That was answer enough.

Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth, exhaling through her nose. She hated this, hated that Alicent was still like this. Still willing to bend, to shrink, to endure whatever it took to be the daughter Otto Hightower wanted her to be. It made her want to throw something. It made her want to shake some sense into her. It made her want to kiss her until she remembered who the fuck she was.

Rhaenyra leaned forward again, her voice softer this time. “Alicent.” Something flickered across Alicent’s face at the way she said her name, but she didn’t look up. “You don’t have to do this,” Rhaenyra murmured.

"It's not that simple."

Rhaenyra studied her for a long moment. And fuck, she hated seeing Alicent like this-so tangled in expectations and duty and the weight of a legacy she didn't even want. Maybe that's why she said what she said next.

"Well," Rhaenyra mused, offering a slow, infuriatingly smug smile. "If you really wanna piss him off, you could always tell him you're dating me."

Alicent choked on her coffee.

Rhaenyra laughed, watching the rare moment of complete loss of composure unfold in real-time. Alicent was glaring at her now, wiping at her mouth, face slightly flushed.

"That is not funny," Alicent hissed.

"It's a little funny."

“As if I’d ever marry you.” There’s a pause. Alicent swallowed and frowned, eyes flickering over her desk, searching for a little hint of herself in it, she found none. “I don’t have a choice.”

And that, that was when Rhaenyra got angry. She shot up from her chair so fast it scraped against the floor, and Alicent startled, eyes snapping to hers.

“Of course, you have a choice,” Rhaenyra snapped, both hands braced against the desk as she loomed over her. “You always have a choice. You just don’t want to make it.”

Alicent’s expression darkened, meeting Rhaenyra's anger with her own. “And what exactly do you suggest I do, Rhaenyra?” Her voice was clipped, and irritated, her patience worn thin.

“I don’t know,” Rhaenyra said, throwing her hands up. “Maybe, oh, I don’t know, tell him no?” Alicent scoffed, shaking her head like Rhaenyra was being ridiculous. “Oh maybe tell him...”

“No. Not that.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, forcing herself to take a step back, to rein in the frustration bubbling beneath her skin. Alicent didn't have the luxury of being herself. Though a part of Rhaenyra believed it was her own fault for taking Otto's words as final. “Look,” she said, levelling her gaze at Alicent. “I’m just saying. If you don’t want to get married again, don’t.”

Alicent stared at her, jaw tight. And then, suddenly—

“What does it matter to you?”

The words were quiet. Measured. But there was something else beneath them, something unreadable in Alicent’s eyes. Rhaenyra stilled. Because what the fuck was she supposed to say to that? Because it did matter. It mattered more than it should. And she had no idea how to explain why.

So, instead, she rolled her eyes, scoffing. “It doesn’t,” she lied, turning away with an exaggerated stretch. “I just think it’s pathetic that you’d let your father control you like this.”

Alicent’s glare could have burned a hole through her skull. “Lunchtime is over.”

“Whatever.” But as she sauntered toward the door, she hesitated, glancing back over her shoulder. Alicent was staring at her screen, but her hands weren’t typing. Her fingers had curled into fists in her lap, tension bleeding through her entire frame. Rhaenyra exhaled quietly. And before she could stop herself... “If it helps,” she murmured, “I wouldn’t marry you, either.”

That earned her a look, sharp and unimpressed, though somewhat amused. Rhaenyra only winked, then strolled out of the office, leaving Alicent with nothing but her irritation and the distant, bitter taste of something she wasn’t ready to name. Alicent let out a slow, measured breath as the door clicked shut behind Rhaenyra. She stared at her laptop screen, her fingers hovering over the keyboard, but she couldn’t focus. Not with the lingering presence of Rhaenyra still thick in the air, like a scent that refused to fade.

She hated this.

Hated how easily Rhaenyra could get under her skin. How she could sit across from her, drinking her water, making herself comfortable in Alicent’s space, as if she belonged there. She hated it even more because part of her liked it. With an irritated sigh, Alicent closed her laptop and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had real problems to deal with, like Otto’s latest attempt to shove Vemond Velaryon in her direction, as if Alicent hadn’t made it perfectly clear that she had no interest in marriage, least of all to a man. Her phone buzzed against the desk. She glanced at the screen.

Otto Hightower: Dinner with Vemond this Friday. Don’t make me chase you down.

Alicent’s jaw clenched. She swiped the notification away without responding.

Another buzz.

Otto Hightower: Alicent.

She ignored that one too.

Instead, she reached for her coffee, only to find it had gone cold. A perfect metaphor for her life, really.

Chapter Text

Alicent needed to get laid, she thought one moment, fingers diligently typing away a rejection email, some new upcoming author wanted the company to publish some awful smutty novel as if she was willing to associate her name with something so… lowly. Though it made her think, and it also made her cringe a little that the last time Alicent had sex was with Cole—which, frankly, she only agreed to because she had run out of excuses. And wine made her incredibly horny. The thought of hiring someone to solve her problem popped in unwillingly, but she quickly shut it down. Too risky. If the word got out Otto would have her head on a spike, not to mention no one in the corporate world would take her seriously ever again.

So all she was left with was herself, and although she could keep herself entertained just fine, Alicent couldn’t help but miss something real. And maybe something real was also something 8 years younger than her, something with short silver hair and violet eyes. No. Alicent argued that it was just the proximity and lack of a sex life that drove her thoughts to Rhaenyra, yes, she was the easiest person to pour all her frustrations into, they were always together because of work, and, truth be told, there was no denying she was attractive. And Alicent couldn't stop replying last week's words. If you really wanna piss him off, you could always tell him you're dating me. Thankfully, not much happened since then, well, except that dinner with Vaemond that just ended up giving Alicent a permanent sense of dread on the back of her spine.

It seemed like the world had perched itself on her shoulders. Everywhere Alicent looked, there was a problem waiting to be solved: her father, always wanting her to do his bidding and carry the family legacy, whatever that entailed, the company that itself was a hassle to run, the media pestering daily about her divorce (and Criston Cole, of course, calling her a bitch to whoever would listen). Gwayne was her only comfort, but unfortunately, her brother was abroad. She started to bite off the skin on her fingers again, something she was scolded for endlessly, but a nervous habit that Alicent couldn't quite stop.

She exhaled sharply through her nose, forcing her hands flat against her desk to still their fidgeting. This was ridiculous. Alicent was ridiculous. There were contracts to sign, budgets to approve, and an entire company to run, and yet, her brain, traitorous as ever, decided to loop back to that damn conversation with Rhaenyra.

"If you really wanna piss him off, you could always tell him you're dating me."

Rhaenyra had said it so flippantly, with that infuriating smirk, her voice dripping with amusement, as if the very idea of them was some kind of joke. And it was. Obviously. Alicent would sooner throw herself into traffic than entertain the possibility of something with Rhaenyra Targaryen, a nepotism hire and corporate thorn in her side.

Except…

Except, when she closed her eyes, she could still picture the way Rhaenyra leaned just a little too close whenever she handed over a file, the way her perfume, pungent, woody, undeniably expensive that lingered in Alicent’s office long after she left. She could hear the smooth cadence of her voice, the teasing lilt she always used when she was trying to get under Alicent’s skin. And gods, did she get under her skin. Those eyes haunted her, deep and rich and impossibly bright. Sometimes Alicent just wanted to gouge them out of Rhaenyra's skull with a spoon, others she just wanted to lose herself in the. It was absurd. How the fuck was she losing over a twenty-four-year-old? Alicent was a grown-ass woman, she was thirty-two, already divorced and a fucking CEO for gods sake. She could just… fire her, right? But that plan was flawed because Otto would surely want to know why Alicent fired his best friend’s daughter, and what sort of excuse could she give?

Oh, you know, I had to fire Rhaenyra because I kept thinking about her bending me over the nearest surface.

Yeah, that wouldn’t work.

It was a nice thought to entertain, however. Alicent rolled her shoulders back, forcing herself to focus on the email in front of her, shifting uncomfortably in her chair as to try and dull the sharp sting between her legs. A curt rejection, professional, impersonal. A dismissal, much like the one she should have given this entire train of thought before it had the chance to fester. Alicent Hightower does not entertain distractions. That was a rule she had lived by since she took over Hightower Publishing. No office scandals, no indulgences, no room for anything other than work.

So why the hell was her cursor blinking in place, unmoving as if daring her to admit just how badly she needed to be touched?

It was, unfortunately, illegal to neuter a human being.

And so Alicent, as to further her self-mutilation, did the most humiliating thing she could think about that moment: she got up from her chair, crossed her desk in three long strides and sat down again. Hightower closed her eyes, leaning all the way back, arms on the side rests, hands digging into the dark fabric and she simply breathed in. This chair, the one Rhaenyra gravitated towards every single time she entered Alicent’s office, smelled like her. She focused on her breathing, letting the cedarwood scent seep into her lungs. It was hard not to think about it. It being Rhaenyra on top of her, that one gold chain she always wore with a dragon pendant hovering over her face. Something settled inside Alicent, pooling deep and low on her belly, heat creeping up her throat.

Alicent needed to be spayed. Maybe she could focus more on work then.

She closed her eyes, trying to push the thought away, but it lingered like smoke in the back of her mind. Rhaenyra's smile flashed through her thoughts again, that slow, knowing curve of her lips that seemed to promise something she couldn’t quite understand, how one side always lifted higher. And then there were her hands, always so damn expressive. The way they would sweep through her hair, tugging at a loose strand absentmindedly, or rest on the small of her neck as she leaned in to make a point. Alicent could practically feel the heat of those hands on their skin, the delicate but firm touch of her fingers inside her...

The phone buzzed against the desk, startling her out of her spiral. Alicent glanced down, brow furrowing at the name flashing across the screen.

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Of course.

The CEO clenched her jaw, debating whether to let it go to voicemail, but against her better judgment, she swiped to answer. "What?" She said, clearing her throat.

“Wow. What a warm welcome,” Rhaenyra’s voice was light, teasing. “Someone’s in a mood.”

“I’m busy,” Alicent clipped.

“So am I.” Rhaenyra didn’t sound remotely busy. If anything, she sounded like she was reclining somewhere, half-laughing at her own audacity. “But I figured I’d check in. You left our little investor dinner last night looking like you wanted to die.”

Alicent pinched the bridge of her nose, all that horniness turning into annoyance with the snap of a finger. “I wasn’t aware my facial expressions were of such great concern to you.” She replied, thumb pressed against her mouth as she tasted blood. Rhaenyra was great in theory, Alicent concluded, but never in practice.

“They’re fascinating, actually. You should see yourself when you’re trying not to strangle someone. Your eye twitches.”

By the seven, she wanted to hang up. But she didn’t.

“Is there a point to this conversation, or are you just wasting my time?”

Rhaenyra made a thoughtful hum on the other end. “Bit of both, really.” A pause. “Bet you haven't eaten.” She said. Alicent glanced at the clock, fuck. Nearly eight P.M. and she forgot to eat. Again.

“I'm fine.”

"Lies.” Alicent rolled her eyes, already regretting answering. But before she could tell Rhaenyra to leave her alone, she continued. “Look outside.”

Alicent’s brows furrowed. Slowly, she got up from the chair, stood, and crossed to the window. And there, standing on the sidewalk outside the building, was Rhaenyra.

Holding up a takeout bag.

Alicent blinked. Then blinked again.

“Are you seriously just gonna stare? Come down before your food gets cold.”

Alicent exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over her face. She should ignore her. She should. Instead, she grabbed her coat. Five minutes later, Alicent stepped outside, arms crossed over her chest and wind blowing her hair away from her flushed face. 

“You know, there are easier ways to be a nuisance.”

Rhaenyra grinned, holding out the bag. “Consider this an act of charity. Your bad mood affects everyone, you know.”

Alicent snatched the bag from her hands, opening it to find a neatly packed meal. Warm. Smelling annoyingly good. She sighed, shaking her head. “Why are you like this? ”

Rhaenyra smirked. “What, thoughtful? Charming? Devastatingly attractive?”

Alicent stared at her.

Rhaenyra only grinned wider. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, but her lips almost twitched into a smile. Almost.

“Fine,” she muttered, opening the bag. “But don’t expect me to thank you.”

Rhaenyra leaned back against the building, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“This isn’t appropriate,” Alicent said, eyes downcast. Sure, they’ve known each other their entire lives, but Alicent was still her boss, and this whole Rhaenyra thing was starting to take its toll on Hightower herself. And by Rhaenyra thing Alicent meant the sort of ‘I hate you and you annoy me so much but still I can’t help but be near you’ thing.

“What?” Rhaenyra's voice was laced with amusement, but there was something else beneath it, something that made Alicent's pulse quicken against her will. “Because from where I'm standing, all I did was bring you dinner. A thoughtful coworker, really.”

“You're not my coworker, you work for me.”

"Semantics.” The paralegal just shrugged, unfazed. “I'm just being nice.”

Alicent narrowed her eyes. “You don’t do things just to be nice.”

Rhaenyra smirked, that slow, knowing curve of her lips that made something in Alicent tighten. “Maybe I do when the mood strikes.”

Alicent huffed, shaking her head, but still, she didn’t move away. The night air was crisp, a welcome contrast to the warmth under her skin. She knew she should end this here, should take the food, retreat to her office, and pretend this moment never happened. But Rhaenyra was looking at her like she was waiting for something, like she was amused by Alicent’s hesitance and gods, that was enough to make her want to hold her ground just to prove a point.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” Alicent said, more to herself than to Rhaenyra. “You don’t get to act like this is… anything.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, studying her with that insufferable glint in her eye. “Who said I thought it was anything?”

Alicent clenched her jaw. “Good.”

“Great.”

“Fine.”

“Perfect.”

She was going to strangle her. But instead of saying that, Alicent turned on her heel, ready to walk back into the building and pretend this entire exchange hadn’t happened. Except…

“Wait,” Rhaenyra said.

Alicent sighed, already regretting stopping. She didn't turn around. “What.”

There was a beat of silence, and then, quieter, softer, “Please eat, Ali.”

Alicent froze.

Ali. It was the second time Rhaenyra called her that. The first time could be passed off as a slip-up, but twice was deliberate.

“Don't call me that.”

She turned, expression unreadable, but Rhaenyra was already stepping back, hands shoved into the pockets of her coat, as if she hadn’t just cracked something in Alicent open. “Night, boss,” she said, too casual, too knowing, and then she was gone, striding down the sidewalk without waiting for a response.

Alicent stood there for a moment, gripping the takeout bag a little too tightly, watching Rhaenyra disappear into the city. She should be annoyed. She should be furious. Maybe even make a formal complaint to HR. Instead, she let out a slow breath and walked back inside, already cursing herself for how badly she wanted to hear Rhaenyra say her name again. 

King's Landing hummed around her as Alicent stepped back into the sleek, marble-floored lobby of Hightower Publishing. The glass doors whispered shut behind her, sealing out the rush of distant traffic, the muted chatter of pedestrians, and the crisp bite of the late evening air. Inside, everything was sterile and sharp edges, polished surfaces, the kind of place built to impress rather than invite. The overhead lights cast a clinical glow, reflecting off the pristine black floors, but the warmth of the takeout bag in her hands felt like the only real thing in the entire building.

She exhaled, rolling her shoulders back, and started toward the elevator. The quiet echoed in her ears, the click of her heels the only sound as she crossed the lobby. Most of the employees had already gone home hours ago, leaving only the faint hum of printers left on standby and the distant whirr of the security system cycling through its scans. Alicent pressed the button for the top floor and watched as the silver doors slid shut with a mechanical hiss. The elevator ride was smooth and soundless, but her mind was anything but.

Ali.

Rhaenyra had said it so easily like it meant nothing, but Alicent had felt the weight of it settle deep in her ribs. No one called her that anymore. Not even Gwayne. To everyone, she was Alicent , CEO, businesswoman, and Hightower legacy. There was no room for Ali in boardrooms and corporate negotiations. But the way Rhaenyra had said it. Casual, offhanded, like it belonged to her had made something in Alicent’s chest twist.

The elevator chimed softly as the doors slid open. Her office was exactly as she had left it, spacious, cold, and impersonal, everything in its proper place. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the glittering skyline of King’s Landing, city lights flickering like distant embers against the dark. The view was magnificent, objectively so, but tonight it only made the space feel impossibly vast as if the glass was the only thing keeping her tethered to the world below. She moved toward her desk, setting the takeout bag down with more force than necessary. Her laptop was still open, the screen casting a faint glow across the pristine surface, emails waiting for her attention. She could work, should work. There were contracts to finalize, numbers to analyze, and problems to solve.

Instead, she reached for the bag.

The scent of warm spices curled into the air as she peeled back the lid of the container. It wasn’t anything extravagant. Just rice, grilled chicken, roasted vegetables, but it was still good , still something real. And, fuck, when was the last time someone had made sure she ate? She picked up the plastic fork, hesitating for a second longer than she should have, before finally taking a bite.

It was delicious.

A flicker of movement in the glass caught her attention. It was just her reflection sitting stiff-backed at her desk, hair pulled into a severe twist unmade by the wind bellow, dark circles smudged beneath her eyes. She looked exhausted. She was exhausted. And yet, all she could think about was how Rhaenyra had looked standing outside, holding up that stupid takeout bag with that stupid grin, like she knew exactly how much she was getting under Alicent’s skin.

Because she did.

Alicent swallowed, forcing herself to focus on the meal, to let the warmth of it settle in her stomach. She could still hear Rhaenyra’s voice in the back of her mind, teasing, insufferable. Look outside. A soft, bitter laugh escaped her lips before she could stop it. Alicent Hightower did not entertain distractions. She didn’t let people get close. But somehow, despite every wall she had built, every line she had drawn, Rhaenyra Targaryen had slipped through the cracks.

Outside, Rhaenyra exhaled, shoving her hands deeper into her coat pockets as she stepped onto the crowded sidewalk. The cold air bit at her skin, slipping past the collar of her jacket and brushing against the exposed curve of her neck. She barely noticed. Her mind was elsewhere, still caught in the ghost of a smirk, the flicker of something unspoken in Alicent’s dark eyes. She should go home. That had been the plan. But her feet carried her down the street in no particular hurry, past late-night cafés filled with the hum of conversation, past neon-lit storefronts casting hazy reflections onto the wet pavement. Rhaenyra didn't take the car today. Not that she walked on foot just to grab Alicent dinner, no, she'd never do that (she did). 

Rhaenyra liked the city best at night. The sharp angles softened under the glow of streetlamps, and the honking of distant traffic drowned beneath the pulse of music spilling from bars and clubs. Rhaenyra belonged here, in this in-between space—halfway home, halfway lost in her own head. Alicent had looked tired. That thought burrowed into her like a splinter she couldn’t shake. It wasn’t just the exhaustion; it was the way Alicent carried it, tightly wound behind straight shoulders and sharp words, pretending it didn’t exist. Like if she ignored it long enough, it would disappear.

Rhaenyra kicked at a loose stone, watching it skitter across the pavement.

Alicent had always been like that. Even when they were kids, before boarding schools and corporate empires and the crushing weight of expectations, she had been the same. Composed. Unshakable. A girl who braided her hair too tightly and spoke in perfect, measured sentences, even when no one was listening. Rhaenyra, by contrast, had always been a mess . A whirlwind of energy, running through the Hightower manor like she owned the place, trailing dirt onto expensive rugs, pushing every button just to see what would happen. Alicent just stood there and watched, like a distant older sister, but Rhaenyra swore to the old gods she always saw a glimpse of mischief behind her eyes. They had been opposites, even then.

And yet, even back then, Rhaenyra had always watched Alicent.

She still did.

This wasn’t anything. It was just… boredom. Curiosity. Maybe a little indulgence in pissing off the one person in the office who took everything too seriously. She stopped outside a bar she’d been to a handful of times, one of those tucked-away places with dim lighting and overpriced whiskey, the kind of place where people disappeared into booths and drank away their bad decisions. A small group stood outside smoking, laughter curling up into the cold air. Rhaenyra should go inside. She should find a distraction, someone who wasn’t her boss, someone who didn’t make her stomach do that annoying thing every time she smirked in her direction.

Instead, she reached for her phone.

Her fingers hesitated over the screen.

Alicent probably hadn’t even touched the food yet. She was probably still sitting in that massive office, surrounded by cold glass and expensive furniture, forcing herself through another late night of work. Rhaenyra shook her head at herself, scoffing. Not your problem, Nyra. Her reflection caught in the bar’s dark window—silver hair tousled from the wind, the sharp cut of her jawline cast in neon glow. There was something restless in her own eyes, something she didn’t quite want to name. And finally, finally , she stepped inside the bar, letting the warmth swallow her whole.

Chapter Text

Alicent pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, exhaling sharply. Another restless night. This was getting ridiculous. She had tried everything, finding some sort of distraction, focus, throwing herself into work until she was on the brink of exhaustion to intense workouts just to try and make her brain shut up. And yet, it was like something inside of her refused to ignore and be ignored, this slow, unbearable burn coiling in Alicent's stomach whenever the Targaryen even looked at her. It drove her mad, and the not-sleeping part of her day started to wear her down.

It also didn't fucking help that Rhaenyra was sin wrapped in silk. Half-unbuttoned blouses, smirks that promised trouble, the kind of confidence that came effortlessly and Alicent couldn't help but envy. Whilst she pretended to be confident, albeit extremely convincing, Rhaenya just was . Ugh, and the way she leaned against things, lean and toned; moved, lazy, deliberate and unbothered. Not to mention that slutty little strand of hair on her face, or how that gold necklace always peaked under whatever shirt Rhaenyra wore, settled neatly between her collarbones. It drove Alicent fucking insane.

And now, alone in her bedroom, she reached the breaking point. It was fine, Alicent told herself. Normal, even. Healthy. Just something to get Rhaenyra out of her system so she could move on and not spend another day at work grinding her teeth every time the girl opened her mouth. She barely thought about it as she grabbed her vibrator from the bedside drawer, flicked it on, and let her head drop back against the pillows. At first, she tried not to imagine anything at all, focusing only on the tension in her body, the way her breath hitched as she moved the toy against herself. But then, of course, her mind betrayed her.

A flash of violet eyes and platinum hair. A voice, low and teasing—What, you gonna lecture me about workplace ethics now? A smirk, sharp as a blade, the ghost of Rhaenyra’s breath against her ear—I wouldn’t marry you either.

Alcient exhaled sharply as she sank deeper into her mattress, the tension in her body coiling tighter with every flicker of sensation. Her fingers clenched around the vibrator, the steady hum filling the quiet of her bedroom, drowning out the thoughts she didn't want to acknowledge in the daylight. It was pathetic. She knew it was. But she couldn’t stop thinking about her. The glint in Rhaenyra’s eyes whenever she said something to purposefully bother Alicent, the way she leaned in too close, smug and infuriating, all warmth and heat and recklessness. Alicent’s back arched as she exhaled a shaky breath, pressing harder, faster.

And then—

Nothing.

The vibrator gave a sad little sputter before dying completely in her hand. Alicent froze. Then blinked. Then sat up, staring at the traitorous object like it had personally offended her. She pressed the button once, twice. Shook it. Pressed again. “Oh, you have to be joking.” For a moment, she just stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling in frustrated disbelief. Then she let out a harsh, exasperated sigh and tossed the useless thing onto the bed beside her.

Just perfect.

Well. That was humiliating. Alicent pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes again, willing the heat in her face to fade, willing herself to not think about the fact that she had been that close to falling apart over Rhaenyra Targaryen, of all people. This was exactly why she shouldn’t have done this. Dragging a hand down her face, Alicent forced herself upright, her body still thrumming with pent-up frustration that now had nowhere to go. It was fine. It was probably for the best. This was ridiculous anyway. With a deep breath, Alicent swung her legs over the edge of the bed, pushing herself to her feet. The cool air kissed her skin, grounding her, reminding her that she had a full day of work ahead. That she was an adult, a professional, not some desperate, restless teenager still haunted by things she refused to name.

So she showered. Got dressed. Put on her makeup with a practiced, steady hand. Slipped into the sharp lines of her power suit like armour. Did her hair. Surprisingly, Alicent let her hair down for the day, falling behind her shoulders in perfect, auburn waves. By the time she stepped out of her penthouse and got in the car with her driver, coffee in hand, she was composed again. Collected. Untouched. Or at least, she convinced herself she was.

That morning, Alicent had planned to arrive extra early, hoping to get there before the rest of the employees, hide inside her office and only come out when everyone else had already gone home. And she thought her plan had worked, except Rhaenyra was already at the office when Alicent arrived. It was unusual, really. Rhaenyra wasn’t exactly known for her punctuality. Most days, she strolled in late with a half finished coffee and some bullshit excuse about traffic or morning meetings that didn’t exist. But today, she was there early, seated at her desk, brows furrowed in concentration as she tapped at her laptop. It was such a rare sight that Alicent stopped in the doorway, caught off guard. She wasn’t going to acknowledge Rhaenyra beyond a curt nod, wasn’t going to let this morning’s humiliating moment of frailty seep into her workday. But, of course, the paralegal had other plans. She was dressed in sharp charcoal grey corduroy pants that hugged every curve in just the right way. Her shirt was crisp and white, the top button left undone, a hint of cleavage that was work-appropriate but in this circumstance, enough to short-circuit Alicent’s brain. That stupid necklace was also still there.

"Well, someone looks extra put together this morning," Rhaenyra mused, her voice light and teasing. "Did someone get laid?”

Alicent didn’t even flinch. "Is there a reason you’re in so early, or should I assume a mental breakdown?"

Rhaenyra smiled, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe I’m turning over a new leaf."

Alicent scoffed. "Yes, and I’m the Queen of Westeros."

"I mean, you do act like it." Rhaenyra’s grin widened, but there was something sharper underneath it, something knowing . She let her gaze trail over Alicent’s figure, slow and deliberate. That usual smirk Rhaenyra wore like lipstick faltered just slightly, but Alicent didn’t catch it. "You look nice with your hair down."

Alicent’s grip on her coffee tightened. She refused to let it show, but the CEO could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks, ears red. "I hardly see how that’s relevant to our workday."

"Just saying," Rhaenyra said, oh-so-innocent. 

Alicent ignored her. A beat passed in uncomfortable silence. “I…” She hesitated, debating if she should really do this, eyes looking everywhere but Rhaenyra. “I’m not, this isn’t a thank you. But, I appreciated what you did yesterday. Dinner, I mean.”

Rhaenyra almost fell from her chair. What was that? Alicent Hightower, saying… what? It barely even registered. So Rhaenyea just nodded, dumbfounded. “Yeah.” It was a small, minuscule little thing compared to the entirety of their relationship, but it was something. The closest thing Rhaenyra could ever get to recognition. So she did eat the takeout. Hm. Interesting. Hightower just nodded her head once, stiffly still. She brought the coffee cup to her lips, taking another sip as Alicent tried to keep her gaze cool and indifferent. “Just being a good person, y‘know?”

“I’m sure.”

Rhaenyra watched as Alicent turned away, all stiff shoulders and carefully maintained composure, moving toward her office as if the conversation hadn’t happened. As if she hadn’t just acknowledged, however begrudgingly, that Rhaenyra had done something for her, and she was glad because of it. It was such a rare occurrence that the paralegal barely knew what to do with it.

Alicent Hightower did not express appreciation. Not to her, not to anyone.

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair. Interesting. Very, very interesting. She should let it go. Move on. Be professional, for once in her goddamn life. But that wasn’t what they did, was it? Alicent ground her nerves, turning them into pepper flakes scattered around, so Rhaenyra pushed back, harder, sharper, until one of them bled.

Inside her office, Alicent exhaled sharply and set her coffee down, willing herself to focus. She had meetings lined up, deals to review, investments and people to fire—things that actually mattered. Not whatever Rhaenyra’s problem was. Not the way her voice sent something irritatingly warm down Alicent’s spine. She shrugged off her coat, sat at her desk, and opened her laptop. Work. That was what she needed. Something productive, something to pull her out of this ridiculous headspace.

The office around her was meticulously arranged: polished mahogany desk, crisp white walls accented by deep emerald drapes, glass all around, intimidating but also offering zero privacy, the low hum of the air conditioner. It was all meant to radiate order, control, and success. Yet beneath that pristine surface, her thoughts churned in a dissonant symphony. Alicent could feel the lingering heat in her cheeks and the dull throb at the back of her neck, the unwelcome reminder of Rhaenyra's teasing remarks. Alicent’s gaze flicked to the window where the city of King’s Landing unfurled beneath her, a sprawling mosaic of ambition and century-old rivalries. The distant hum of traffic, and the rhythmic clatter of people simply living their everyday lives, all served as a stark reminder that Alicent’s world was both vast and suffocatingly small, confined by the expectations of her family and the relentless pace of corporate warfare.

Alicent had finally managed to drown herself in work. The tension in her body had settled into something manageable, still there, still humming under her skin, but at least it wasn’t consuming her whole. She was fine. She was composed. She was back in control. The silence in the room deepened, punctuated only by the steady rhythm of her own breathing and the occasional soft clack of keys. But every time her eyes drifted from the screen, they searched the room, half-expecting to catch a glimpse of Rhaenyra’s carefree smile, the way her eyes would sparkle with unrestrained mischief. As fate would have it, she did. A mop of silver hair stared back at her. The paralegal was just… there, sitting outside Alicent’s office, looking at her through the glass. No smirk, no mirth, nothing that gave away what Rhaenya was thinking. Her eyebrows knitted together in frustration, waiting for something to happen, and when nothing did, Alicent pulled out her phone.

Hightower: Do you actually need something, or is that just your usual attempt to be insufferable?

Alicent shouldn’t have sent that. She knew she shouldn’t have sent that. Engaging was the worst possible move. Like throwing a match into gasoline. One does not negotiate with terrorists.

Rhaenyra: aw, you were thinking about me.

Alicent closed her eyes, inhaled slowly, and counted to five.

Hightower: I will fire you.

Rhaenyra: no, you won’t.

Alicent’s jaw clenched. Of course, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. But Rhaenyra didn’t have to sound so smug about it. Her mind raced through snippets of the morning: Rhaenyra’s mocking tone, the way her casual quip had sliced right through the cool composure Alicent had tried so hard to maintain. It wasn’t just the words, it was the memory of that smirk, the tantalizing glimpse of vulnerability in Rhaenyra’s eyes that made it all so maddeningly personal. The terse exchange, words that danced between provocation and careless affection, did little to quell the dissonance inside her. Instead, it only sharpened the ache that had been building through a restless night.

A knock at the door.

Alicent barely looked up when Criston Cole stormed into her office.

She knew this was coming, had known the second she saw his name in her inbox. Cirston didn’t know when to let go, The subject had been brave, and vague (We need to talk.), but she didn’t respond. Alicent never did. Unlike Rhaenyra, he was very easy to ignore. And now, here he was, in her space, standing in front of her desk like a walking, talking, seething embodiment of her worst decisions. Alicent made a mental note to revoke his security badge. Criston didn’t sit, didn’t ask if she had the time. He just stood there, fists clenched, jaw tight like he had spent the entire morning psyching himself up for this. But Criston didn’t look intimidating, not to Alicent, at least.

“You’re avoiding me.” He acused, voice sharp.

Alicent sighed, setting her pen down with deliberate are. “I’m working.”

Criston scoffed, shaking his head. “Right. Of course. Work. Because that’s all that ever mattered to you, isn’t it?”

“Get to the point, Cirston.” Alicent’s patience was already razor-thin.

“You ruined me.” His voice was low, dangerous. “I spent years by your side. Years protecting you, doing everything I could to be worthy of you, to win your love. I thought I had it because you married me, but then you…” He scoffed, shaking his head. “You threw me away.”

“The point,” Alicent repeated. If being Otto Hightower’s heiress taught her anything, it was how to point out emotional manipulation.

“The settlement.” Alicent’s fingers twitched against her desk. Ah. Of course. That.

“The settlement is finalized,” she said coldly. “There’s nothing left to discuss.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s insulting.”

“It’s fair.”

“It’s a fucking joke, Alicent.”

She exhaled through her nose, pressing her palms flat against the desk. “You signed the prenup. You agreed to the terms. You don’t get to be surprised now that I’m enforcing them.”

Criston let out a bitter laugh, stepping closer. “You enforcing them? No, you’re using them to punish me.”

Alicent arched a brow. “For what?”

“For leaving,” he snapped.

Alicent stared at him, expression blank. Then, slowly, she let out a short, incredulous laugh. “For leaving?” she repeated, shaking her head. “Oh, please.” She leaned back in her chair, tilting her head, expression stiff. The same kind of countenance Alicent used in meetings and business deals, the one crafted carefully to intimidate. “Do you think I forgot how miserable you were? The passive-aggressive bullshit, the endless comments about my work, the fact that you couldn’t go one day without sulking, going on and on about how I wasn’t… ” She cut herself off, inhaling sharply, voice dropping into something cold and blunt. “You left because you wanted to. I’m just making sure you don’t take my money on the way out.”

As if she cared. As if she wanted to stay. Criston had planned to leave, just not forever. He wanted her to maybe realize that he mattered, that he was missed, that Alicent needed him,  and beg Criston to come back. It backfired when the papers arrived in the mail.

His fingers curled into fists, his entire body vibrating with the sheer force of his frustration. “Is it her?” he asked. Alicent went still. Criston scoffed, nodding to himself like he had figured it out. “It is her, isn’t it? That spoiled cunt you keep around.”

Alicent’s stomach twisted, but her expression remained perfectly neutral. “Leave, Criston.” Not a denial.

“She follows you around like a damn puppy, and you…” He shook his head. “Gods, it makes sense now. The way you defend her, the way you always…” He let out a short, sharp laugh. “I bet she’s fucking you for the promotion, isn’t she?”

Alicent’s blood ran cold.

“Get out.”

But Criston just smirked, sensing that he had finally gotten under her skin. “Or are you the one fucking her for attention?”

Something twisted inside her. Not guilt. Not shame. Just exhaustion. She folded her hands atop her desk, gaze measured. “You’re angry,” she said evenly. “So I’ll give you five seconds to leave before I have security do it for you.”

Criston held her gaze for a second longer like he was daring her to admit something. He wanted her to say it, to confirm whatever theory he had cooked up in his pathetic little head. But she didn’t. She just stared him down, her silence thick and unyielding. And finally, finally, he let out a bitter scoff, turned on his heel, and stormed out. The door slammed behind him, rattling the walls. Alicent exhaled slowly, pressing her fingertips against her temple. Her hands were shaking. She curled them into fists, grounding herself, forcing every ounce of emotion out.

Before Alicent had a chance to collect herself and thank whatever god was out there that the rest of her employees hadn’t arrived to see it the door opened again. Alicent didn’t even need to look. She felt her.

“Wow.” Rhaenyra’s voice was light, teasing. “So that was fun.”

Alicent squeezed her eyes shut. “Not now, Rhaenyra.” She finally looked up, ready to tear into her, but the words never came. Because Rhaenyra was already stepping closer, hands in her pockets, gaze flicking over Alicent’s face, her posture, her clenched fists. And the mocking lilt in her voice softened.

“You okay?”

Alicent should have lied. Should have thrown up a wall so thick that Rhaenyra would have no choice but to leave her the fuck alone. But something about the way she asked, so simple, so effortless like she really did care, made Alicent’s throat tighten. And she couldn’t tell Rhaenyra everything was fine, suddenly. So she turned away. Straightened her posture. Smoothed down her blouse. Composed. Collected. Untouched. If Alicent couldn’t give her a lie, she’d give her nothing at all.

“You know,” she mused, shifting her weight slightly, “for a woman who just verbally destroyed her ex-husband, you look shockingly unfulfilled.”

Alicent exhaled a tired breath of air, closing her eyes. “Rhaenyra…”

“Like, if it were me? I’d be glowing.” She smirked. “Actually, wait, have you ever glowed? I’m struggling to picture it.”

“Please stop talking.”

Rhaenyra hummed, unconvinced. After a pause, she said: “You do know that he’s a miserable little shit, right?” Alicent huffed out a breath, half a scoff, half something dangerously close to a laugh. Rhaenyra grinned, stepping closer, pushing her luck. “Like, genuinely, the worst.” The way Rhaenyra lingered, weight shifting slightly, leaning idly against the edge of her desk, arms crossed, too close—it meant she had noticed. It meant she had already figured it out. But Rhaenyra didn’t say anything, which was not something she often did: shut up. She didn’t comment on Cole’s accusation, no smart quips or teasing remarks thrown haphazardly in Alicent’s direction. A long silence stretched between them, thin and fragile. “You look like you just got hit by a bus.”

Alicent’s head snapped up, her exhaustion briefly overridden by sheer disbelief. “What?” Maybe the lack of sex was affecting her hearing.

Rhaenyra shrugged, completely unfazed. “It’s just an observation.”

Alicent stared at her. Then, slow and incredulous: “Are you comparing my current emotional state to getting hit by a bus?”

Rhaenyra nodded, very serious. “Mhm. But, like, lightly hit. Not full speed. Just a gentle mauling.” A beat of silence. Alicent blinked. And then… a stunned, sharp, sudden laugh slipped out of her. It was quiet, barely there, but real. Rhaenyra’s eyes flickered with something, satisfaction, amusement, something warm. “Holy shit.”

Alicent shook her head, lifting a hand to cover her mouth, trying (failing) to suppress the next laugh that bubbled up.

Rhaenyra grinned. “Was that a giggle, Hightower?”

Alicent immediately schooled her expression, clearing her throat. “It was not.”

“Oh, it definitely was.”

“It wasn’t.”

Rhaenyra smiled and crossed her arms, tilting her head like she was studying something rare, something precious. “Huh. Who knew? You can laugh.”

Alicent shot her a glare, but there was no real heat behind it. The momentary crack in her composure had already sealed itself back up, but Rhaenyra had caught it, had felt it, and now she was looking at Alicent like she had discovered a new, fascinating experiment she intended to poke at until it combusted. And Alicent? She hated that it made her want to smile again.

“I have work to do,” she said stiffly, reaching for her laptop like it might shield her from whatever this was. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, paralegal-ing somewhere?”

Rhaenyra didn’t move. “Shouldn’t you be ignoring your emotions like a responsible corporate ice queen?”

Alicent gave her a flat look. “I am.”

“Right. Sure. Which is why your hands are still shaking.”

Alicent stilled.

The words shouldn’t have made her chest tighten the way they did. Rhaenyra had said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, like she hadn’t just carved right through every carefully built defence Alicent had been constructing since the moment Criston Cole walked into her office. Rhaenyra wasn’t supposed to notice things like that. And yet… “Fuck off, Rhaenyra,” she muttered, barely above a breath.

Rhaenyra didn’t. Instead, she reached forward, slow but deliberate, and plucked Alicent’s coffee from the desk. Took a sip. Held it hostage in her grip like she belonged there. Like this was normal.

Alicent could only stare.

“What—”

“It’s cold,” Rhaenyra noted, nose scrunching slightly. “You really need to start drinking these while they’re still hot.”

Alicent wanted to argue. Tell her to leave. Rip the coffee from her hands. But something in her stopped. It was so casual, so normal, like she was meant to do it. Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the lingering warmth of laughter still tingling at the edges of Alicent’s ribs. Or maybe it was the fact that, despite everything, despite how infuriating Rhaenyra was, she was still here.

Still looking at Alicent like she mattered.

“Fine,” Alicent said, exhaling sharply. “If you insist on loitering in my office, at least make yourself useful and go get me another one.”

Rhaenyra smirked, looking far too pleased with herself. “A please would be nice.”

Alicent gave her a deadpan stare.

Rhaenyra sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright, keep your dignity intact.” She turned toward the door, but just before she left, she glanced back, expression shifting into something softer, something unreadable. Alicent pretended not to notice. She didn’t watch Rhaenyra leave. Didn’t stare at the empty space she left behind. Didn’t acknowledge the way her chest felt just a little bit lighter. Instead, she picked up her pen, smoothed out the nearest document, and got back to work.

Like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just laughed. Like she wasn’t still thinking about the way Rhaenyra had looked at her.

Still, her brain refused to focus. Alicent knew the right thing to do. She had always known. Her father had made it clear. Rhaenyra was a distraction, a liability, a storm that would rip through everything she had built and leave nothing in its wake. She was reckless, arrogant, and dangerous, and Alicent was a fool for letting her get this close. And yet — Every time Rhaenyra spoke, every time she smiled like she knew something Alicent didn’t, every time her fingers brushed too close, her voice dipped too low, Alicent felt herself falter. It was maddening, humiliating, the way Rhaenyra could unmake her with so little effort. Her father was right, which was a very painful thought to have. She knew what she should do.

Rhaenyra came back sometime later, another cup of coffee in hand, and some dumb excuse about how her office was too stuffy, too cramped and in the way of her creative legal writing process — whatever that means. So she stayed, she lingered, until Rhaenyra was full-on doing her work sitting on Alicent’s couch. Maybe because Rhaenyra felt like Alicent needed the closeness after so much had happened in so little time, and the paralegal knew that Alicent, being Alicent, would never accept it if Rhaenyra offered it. So she pretended to be the one who wanted company (not a total lie, though), and Rhaenyra liked it. She wasn’t supposed to, but she did. They weren’t even talking, or interacting, only coexisting, which the two of them rarely did without a fight. But it felt nice, different.

“I’m going to have an aneurysm,” Alicent declared, pressing her fingers against her temple and snapping Rhaenyra’s attention. “And your mess is what did it.” The clock marked 05:00 P.M., orange light bleeding into the office as the sun threatened to set on the horizon. The room smelled like coffee and familiarity, their perfumes mixing together due to the close proximity into something so uniquely them.

Rhaenyra, the absolute menace she was, didn’t even look up from where she was sprawled across the couch, one leg draped over the armrest, papers everywhere. “If this is how you go out,” she mused, tapping her pen idly against the contract in her lap, “at least it’ll be on brand.”

Alicent inhaled sharply, resisting the urge to physically remove her from the furniture, or to throw a paperweight at her head. “You are singlehandedly desecrating the integrity of this office.”

Rhaenyra smirked, lazily flipping a page. “Strong words for someone who lets me stay anyway.” Alicent opened her mouth then shut it. Unfortunately, she had no argument for that. Which was exactly why Rhaenyra grinned, stretching out further, completely at ease.

Alicent’s eye twitched. She marched toward the couch, heels clicking against the floor, stopping just short of kicking the disaster that was Rhaenyra’s work setup. “This is a professional environment.”

“Mmm.” Rhaenyra hummed noncommittally, eyes still on the contract. “And I’m a professional.”

Alicent’s patience was running out. “Then act like it.”

Rhaenyra finally looked up. And something shifted. Not much, just a flicker of something unreadable in those violet eyes, something slow and assessing, something that made Alicent’s breath catch just slightly, and she should step back.

She should.

But she didn’t.

Instead, she stayed right where she was, watching, waiting, as Rhaenyra smirked, lips curving like she had just figured something out. Slowly, deliberately, Rhaenyra uncapped her pen and, without breaking eye contact, pressed it firmly against the nearest page, dragging a thick, inky line straight through one of the clauses.

Alicent visibly flinched. “Oh, you fucking—” Rhaenyra grinned. Alicent snatched the contract from her lap, eyes scanning the page in horror. “What— why would you—” She gestured wildly at the now-ruined document. “Do you enjoy suffering?”

Rhaenyra leaned back, arms stretching lazily behind her head. “I enjoy your suffering.”

Alicent swore, dragging a hand down her face. “You are impossible.”

“And you love it.”

A beat of silence.

Too long.

Too charged.

Alicent’s fingers twitched around the paper. She had to say something, something sharp, something final, something to end this moment before it became something else entirely. But Rhaenyra was already tilting her head, watching her with a look that felt dangerous, like she was waiting for Alicent to break. And that? That was the problem.

Because Alicent didn’t break. Not for her.

So she inhaled, deep and measured, smoothed her hand over the contract, and schooled her expression into something perfectly cold. “You’re reprinting this.”

Rhaenyra smirked, unbothered. “Make me.”

Alicent slammed the contract onto the coffee table and turned on her heel.

“I hate you.” She didn’t. And Rhaenyra knew it. Which was why she was still grinning when Alicent walked away, or maybe the fact that she got a perfect show of her ass and that tiny little waist, so grabbable; or maybe because they both knew she’d come back. And Rhaenyra lived for it.

The next day, Laena asked Rhaenyra to go shopping with her for a dress. The Targaryen Annual Charity Gala was that weekend. It happened every year. Just another extravagant display of old-money arrogance disguised as philanthropy, a chance for the Targaryen family to remind everyone else of their legacy while raising obscene amounts of money for whatever cause they deemed worthy that year. Rhaenyra loved it. She could already picture the scene: The grand ballroom at the Dragonstone Hotel dripping in gold and excess. Tables set with the finest silverware, whispered hums of power plays and polite social warfare. Not to mention, she always got to be the centre of attention.

The boutique was one of those exclusive, appointment-only places where the price tags are rendered meaningless because if you had to ask, you couldn't afford it. The kind of place their families had been shopping at since forever, where the assistants greeted them with practised warmth and champagne glasses, eager to fawn over them while pushing the most expensive pieces in the collection. Rhaenyra barely paid attention as a saleswoman draped a beaded gown over her arm, offering something about how this one would look exquisite on her figure, or how it would complement her skin tone. Instead, Rhaenyra let her gaze drift across the shop, watching with mild amusement as Laena inspects a sleek, form-fitting dress while Helaena ran her fingers over a soft pastel number with delicate embroidery.

“I hate shopping for these things,” Laena sighed. Rhaenyra walked closer to where Laena was holding the dress over her body, staring with sharp, overcritical eyes at her reflection. “It's always such a production.”

Rhaenyra arched a brow. "Please, you love the attention.”

“I tolerate it.”

Helaena, still admiring the detailing on the dress in her hands, glanced at them with a soft smile. She was sweet like that. “I think it's fun. Everyone gets to dress up, there's music, dancing… and you get to watch people get progressively drunker and sloppier as the night goes on.”

Rhaenyra snorted. “That's the best part.”

Laena held the black dress against Rhaenyra's front, tilting her head appraisingly. “This one would suit you.”

“Too safe.” She barely looked at it. “As if I'd ever wear a dress”

Laena smirked. “Too safe or too much like something Alicent would wear?” 

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, ignoring the war her heart made itself known inside her chest at the mere mention of her name. “Please, I have better taste.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Laena mused, setting the dress back on the rack. “She always looks impeccable. You've noticed.” She turned around, staring bright-eyed at Rhaenyra. Laena Velaryon was the kind of beautiful that made people stop and stare. Tall, poised, and effortlessly charismatic, she carried herself with the confidence of someone who had always known her own worth. Her deep brown skin had a warm, golden undertone, accentuated by the soft glow of the boutique’s lighting. Loose curls framed her face, glossy and white, cascading over her shoulders in perfect waves.

“Of course I've noticed,” Rhaenyra said, feigning nonchalance as she brushed her hair back with her hand. “She looks like she was manufactured to be flawless. It's unnatural.” There's a pause. “Why are we even talking about her?” Laena just hummed knowingly, exchanging a look with Helaena, who was far too entertained by the conversation. “What abou you, Helanea?” Rhaenyra asked, changing the subject. “Who's going to be your lucky date this year?”

Helaena shrugged, unbothered. “I might just go alone. Less exhausting that way.”

“Smart.”

“And you?” Laena pressed, eyes glinting with mischief. “Who are you taking?”

Rhaenyra stretched lazily, pretending to examine a nearby display of dresses. “Haven't decided.”

Laena crossed her arms. “Let me guess, you're waiting to see what Alicent does first.”

She scoffed, “Ridiculous.”

Helaena giggled, sipping her champagne.

“She'll be there, you know.”

“Yes, I am painfully aware.”

As Laena and Helaena bantered over dresses, a sleek, dark-haired sales assistant swept in with a display of shimmering gowns, her every movement calculated to captivate. For a moment, the clink of champagne and flirtatious giggles filled the air as the assistant held up a dress that glittered like a secret promise. The three women’s attention wavered between admiring fabrics and each other’s playful jibes, but Rhaenyra’s gaze had already shifted. With a subtle motion, her fingers brushed against the cool surface of her phone, hidden partly in the crook of her arm. Under the guise of verifying gala details, an excuse as flimsy as it was convenient, she unlocked her screen and began to type. The message was casual, yet every keystroke carried an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken. 

Rhaenyra: are you going to the gala this Saturday?

She stared at the message for a moment, debating whether to add something else. Something sharper. Something that might crack through the rigid formality Alicent always wrapped herself in, especially when it came to Rhaenyra. But she didn't. Just that one question, plain and open-ended, an invitation for Alicent to either engage or ignore. She pressed send. The screen blinked back at her, offering no immediate response. Of course not. Alicent was the type to sit with a message, to weigh every possible interpretation before answering — if she answered at all. However, that didn’t apply to Rhaenyra most of the time.

"Are you even listening?"

Rhaenyra blinked up to find Laena staring at her, brow arched in amusement. Helaena was still twirling in front of the mirror, watching the light catch on the dress she now had draped over her frame. "Not particularly," Rhaenyra admitted, slipping her phone back into the pocket of her jacket. "What did I miss?"

"Laena was just saying she thinks this one’s perfect," Helaena supplied, still examining herself in the mirror. "What do you think?"

Rhaenyra hummed, tilting her head. "I think you look like a dream," she said truthfully. The dress was soft, a pale shade of blue that set off Helaena's delicate features. And suddenly, Helaena looked like Aemma, just for a moment, but it was enough to put a smile on Rhaenyra’s lips. The embroidered details caught the light like they had been stitched from stardust.

Laena nodded approvingly. "Agreed. You’ll be the most ethereal one there."

Helaena smiled, pleased, then turned back toward the mirror, adjusting the fabric at her waist. Rhaenyra’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Her pulse leapt.

She pulled it out, schooling her expression as she glanced at the screen.

Alicent: I always go.

No greeting. No embellishments. Just a statement of fact, crisp and precise. Rhaenyra smirked, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she considered her next move.

Rhaenyra: and will you be going alone?

The message was sent before she could second-guess it. Rhaenyra imagined Alicent reading it, her lips pressed together in that thin line she always made when she was irritated or flustered. Rhaenyra liked to think it was the latter.

"Laena," Helaena called suddenly, turning away from the mirror. "You should try this one." She reached for a different gown on the rack, something bolder, sleeker.

Laena wrinkled her nose but took it anyway, sighing dramatically as she stepped toward the dressing rooms. Rhaenyra barely heard any of it. Her phone buzzed again.

Alicent: What does it matter to you?

Rhaenyra: it doesn't.

A lie. They both knew it.

“Everything okay?” Helaena asked, far too perceptive for someone who had seemed so distracted with dresses only moments ago.

Rhaenyra smiled, slow and easy. “Of course,” she said, reaching for a flute of champagne from the waiting sales assistant’s tray. She took a sip, letting the bubbles settle on her tongue before adding, “Just making conversation.”

Laena turned to her, eyes gleaming with something far too smug for Rhaenyra’s liking. “Just making conversation?” She echoed, dragging out the words as if tasting them. “Funny. That looked suspiciously like you texting a certain someone whose name rhymes with Maleficent. ”

Helaena giggled into her glass.

Rhaenyra, ever composed, arched a brow. “And if I was?”

Laena placed a dramatic hand over her heart. “Seven Hells, you’re getting sloppy. If you’re going to pine, at least have the dignity to do it when we’re not watching.”

“I’m not…”

“You are,” Laena cut in, tilting her head. “It’s cute. In a deeply pathetic, self-sabotaging way.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, swirling the champagne in her glass. “I asked a simple question. That doesn’t constitute pining. ”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Laena agreed, nodding. “Just a completely casual, meaningless text to confirm whether or not your beloved will be gracing the gala with her exquisite, unnatural perfection—what were your words again?”

Helaena hummed, thoughtful. “I think she also said manufactured to be flawless. ”

“Ah, right,” Laena said, eyes dancing. “Forgive me, I left out the part where you sound utterly besotted.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes, ignoring the warmth creeping up her neck. “I hope both of you get greyscale and die.”

Laena’s laughter rang out like a bell, rich with amusement, while Helaena hid her knowing smile behind the rim of her glass. The boutique’s warm lighting glowed around them, casting a golden hue over shimmering fabrics and the gleam of expensive jewellery, but Rhaenyra barely registered any of it. She drained the rest of her champagne with practised ease, rolling her eyes as Laena nudged her side with a conspiratorial grin. The moment passed, swallowed by the hum of conversation and the indulgent atmosphere, but the text on her screen still lingered at the back of her mind, unanswered.

The Targaryen Annual Charity Gala was, in many ways, a spectacle of excess. The grand ballroom of the Dragonstone Hotel gleamed under the glow of opulent chandeliers, light catching on gold filigree and reflecting off polished marble floors. Every inch of the venue exuded old-money elegance: imposing floral arrangements lined the entrance, waitstaff in crisp black-and-white attire weaved seamlessly between clusters of high-society guests, and the scent of expensive perfume mingled with the faintest trace of aged whiskey. Conversations buzzed in hushed tones, polite but edged with the sharpness of power plays and long-standing rivalries.

Alicent stood at the periphery, champagne glass poised between two fingers, the weight of the evening already settling between her shoulders. She had done this too many times before. The obligatory appearances, the carefully worded pleasantries, the strategic dances between allies and adversaries. She was, as always, immaculate—dressed in a sleek, deep burgundy strapless gown that clung to her frame in all the right places, the colour rich against her fair skin. A cluster of diamonds sat perfectly at her neck, the necklace large and uncomfortable, delicate Cartier bracelet resting against her wrist, understated yet unmistakable in its luxury. Her hair was swept into an elegant updo, a few loose strands framing her face, softening the sharpness of her expression.

She was bored. And annoyed.

And then, the room shifted.

It wasn’t immediate, just a subtle ripple, a shift in energy as murmurs passed between lips, as heads turned toward the entrance in unspoken acknowledgement. Alicent knew, before she even allowed herself to look, that Rhaenyra had arrived. And of course, she had to make an entrance.

Draped in an oversized, perfectly tailored black suit, Rhaenyra strode into the ballroom like she owned it. The jacket, sharp-shouldered and draped effortlessly over her frame, hung open just enough to reveal the sheer black blouse beneath it, whispering against her skin. The silver chain at her throat caught the light, drawing attention to the sliver of bare collarbone left exposed. High-waisted trousers fell in a clean, impeccable line, the hem just brushing over polished black boots that added an extra inch to her already commanding presence. The entire look was masculine and androgynous, effortlessly cool in a way that only Rhaenyra could pull off.

Alicent took a slow sip of her champagne, watching from beneath her lashes, expression unreadable. Rhaenyra was impossible to ignore. She always had been.

Their eyes met across the room.

It was brief, no more than a handful of seconds, but the weight of it pressed against Alicent’s skin like a brand. Rhaenyra held her gaze with the kind of intensity that made it impossible to look away, the corner of her mouth just barely twitching upward, the ghost of something wicked lurking behind her eyes. She didn’t have to say a word. The look alone was enough, thick with the unspoken, charged with something that burned slow and dangerous between them.

Alicent exhaled, steady, controlled. Her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass. But before anything else could happen, before Rhaenyra could take a step closer, before Alicent could decide whether to stay rooted in place or turn and run away screaming, Viserys was there, beaming, his arm sweeping around his daughter’s shoulder as he pulled her into the limelight. “Come, come,” he insisted, his voice loud enough to carry over the hum of conversation. “A few pictures won’t kill you.”

Rhaenyra groaned in exaggerated protest, but she didn’t resist as she was led away, her presence swallowed by the crowd, cameras flashing in her direction like a preordained spectacle. Alicent should have felt relief. Instead, there was a sharp pang of something else, something annoyingly close to disappointment. She barely had time to register it before another presence slithered into her space.

“Alicent,” Vaemond purred, smooth as oil.

Her grip on the champagne flute tightened. “Lord Velaryon.”

Vaemond smiled in that way men did when they thought themselves clever, his expression equal parts knowing and patronizing. He stepped in close, not enough to be inappropriate, but enough that she could smell his cologne, could feel the weight of his gaze as it flickered across her features, assessing.

“It’s a shame,” he mused, tilting his head, “watching a woman as poised as you spend an evening standing on the sidelines.”

Alicent did not rise to the bait. “I wasn’t aware you were keeping track of my evening.”

His chuckle was soft, amused. “I make it a point to notice the most interesting people in the room.” His eyes glinted. “And you, Lady Hightower, are always interesting.” Alicent swallowed back the urge to scoff. She had no patience for this. Not tonight. Not ever.

Vaemond was persistent.

Not in the way lesser men were—clumsy, obvious, easily swatted away—but with a kind of polished tenacity that made it impossible to dismiss him outright. Every word out of his mouth was coated in silk, every suggestion laced with just enough plausible deniability that Alicent couldn't openly recoil without making a scene.

“It’s a natural alliance,” he said, swirling the wine in his glass with infuriating ease. “Two powerful families, a shared vision. Your father understands this.” Of course he did. Otto saw strategy in everything, including his daughter's personal life.

Alicent forced a tight smile. “My father and I don’t always see eye to eye.”

Vaemond chuckled, like she’d said something amusing rather than a blatant dismissal. “You’re a practical woman, Alicent. Surely you see the benefits.” He angled himself closer, his voice dropping into something lower, more private. “A woman in your position requires protection.”

Her stomach twisted. There it was. The unsubtle edge beneath the carefully measured words. He was offering her security, stability, a neatly arranged future where she would be locked in yet another gilded cage, another arrangement that benefitted everyone but her. Alicent wanted to die. Or at the very least, throw her drink in his face and walk away. But that would be undignified. It was a careful dance, one Alicent had done a thousand times before: rejecting a man without offending his ego. But tonight, she was just so exhausted; and tired of Vaemond’s face and not in the mood to coddle his pride. So Alicent didn’t smile, she didn’t offer him anything resembling encouragement, nor did she try to soften the blow.

But Alicent didn’t have to.

Because suddenly, there was a presence at her side, warm and effortless, filling the space between her and Vaemond with nothing more than sheer audacity. Rhaenyra. A lazy glass dangled from her fingers, the whiskey catching the light as she raised it lazily to her lips. She looked composed, unbothered, and yet there was something razor-sharp in her posture, like a dagger, something unmistakable in the way her gaze flicked to Vaemond like she was deciding whether or not he was worth the effort of dealing with.

“You’re in my seat,” she said, voice smooth as velvet.

Vaemond blinked. “I wasn’t aware seats were assigned.”

“They are when I decide they are.” Rhaenyra tilted her head, considering. “Why don’t you fuck off?”

“Excuse me?” 

A beat of silence. Alicent pressed her lips together, forcing down the sudden, ridiculous urge to laugh.

“Well, you see, I have this thing about men talking down to women who are infinitely more important than them.” Rhaenyra took a step forward, her shoulder brushing against Alicent’s and the CEO swore she felt electricity shock her. “It irritates me.”

Vaemond’s mouth twitched, caught between irritation and forced civility. “I see no reason for hostility, Princess.” It was supposed to be an insult, calling back to a time when the Targaryens were publicly abdicated from their royal titles, and humiliated by the new law. That was centuries ago, of course, and she wasn't fazed by it.

Rhaenyra grinned, all teeth. “That’s because you’re used to people tolerating you. I, however, am not one of those people.” She sipped her drink, utterly composed. “So, go.”

Vaemond exhaled through his nose, nostrils flaring just slightly. He was stupid, yes, but not enough to defy a Targaryen. Then, with the kind of stiff courtesy only a man with wounded pride could muster, he inclined his head. “Lady Hightower.”

Alicent didn’t reply. She simply watched as he turned on his heel and disappeared into the crowd, leaving behind nothing but the ghost of his arrogance.

“He’s persistent.” Rhaenyra smirked, swirling her whisky.

Alicent exhaled, finally allowing herself a moment to breathe. “He’s insufferable.”

Rhaenyra clinked their glasses together, smirk widening. “Then that makes two of us.”

Alicent’s lips quirked into something that wasn’t quite a smile wasn’t quite anything at all. Uncertainty flickered in the depths of her eyes, but Rhaenyra only cocked her head, a silent invitation. A challenge. “You didn’t have to do that.” Alicent said, but the paralegal didn’t reply.

“Come,” Rhaenyra murmured, tipping her glass toward the balcony doors.

Alicent hesitated, but only for a breath. Then she was following, her heels clicking softly against marble as the hum of the gala faded behind them. The night air was crisp, laced with the scent of distant rain, and the sea seemed restless, waves crashing against stone, carved after years and years of corrosion by the salt water. Tonight, the moon was incredibly bright. Bright enough that Alicent could tell every little detail in Rhaenyra’s face that she tried so hard to forget. But it was branded into her brain. Beyond the balcony railing, the city glittered in cold, electric light, a sharp contrast to the warmth pooling between them. They were too close.

Somehow, not close enough.

Rhaenyra leaned against the stone ledge, one elbow propped, fingers lazily circling the rim of her glass. Alicent’s heart raced a little, and she felt dizzy. Rhaenyra hummed, violet eyes searching the landscape, then she turned. Her eyes flicked over Alicent in quiet assessment, dark and unreadable, before she offered, almost offhandedly…

“You’re pretty tonight.”

Alicent scoffed, rolling her eyes, but the sound was too soft to be real indignation. “Drunk already?”

Rhaenyra smirked. “Not nearly enough.”

It was meant to be a throwaway line, just another piece in their endless game of push and pull. But then Alicent tilted her head, a slow, deliberate motion, and said: “Well. That makes two of us.” Alicent, for the first time in… ever, teased back, repeating Rhaenyra's words and clinking their glasses together like she had done earlier. There was a pause, and Rhaenyra didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know how to proceed, because, if she pushed too far, Alicent would retreat, like a wild animal, she scared easily.

For a moment, Rhaenyra didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Something shifted between them, stretched taut in the space where words faltered. The air crackled, alive with everything unsaid, everything neither of them had the courage to name. Alicent’s pulse stuttered. Rhaenyra watched her, unreadable. Silence fell over them. Alicent lifted her glass to her lips, still holding Rhaenyra's gaze, taking a slow sip, but when she lowered it, a smudge of deep red was left behind, slightly imperfect against the sharp lines of her mouth. Rhaenyra watched it happen. Watched the way Alicent’s lips pressed together after, as if she could fix it just by sheer will. She wouldn’t. She never did. Her control faltered in the smallest, most intimate ways—never outright, never where anyone could see, except Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra always saw.

She didn’t think.

Didn’t allow herself the luxury of consideration.

Her thumb moved before she could stop it, swiping the stain away with a touch so fleeting it could have been imagined. But it wasn’t. Alicent’s breath hitched. Rhaenyra felt the sharp intake of it, the moment stretching between them like a wire pulled too tight, ready to snap.

What are you doing? Alicent’s mind whispered, no, yelled at her, frantic, panicked, but she didn’t move, didn’t pull away. All her synapses firing the wrong way.

Rhaenyra’s skin was warm against hers, the pad of her thumb dragging over the curve of her bottom lip, slow, unhurried. It lingered for a beat too long, her hand pressing further, daring, until she was holding the side of Alicent's face, fingers ghosting over the pulse point of her neck, and fuck, this was reckless, dangerous — Alicent swallowed. Rhaenyra felt it beneath her fingers. Rhaenyra tilted her head, violet eyes dropping to her mouth, and oh. Oh. Heat coiled at the base of Alicent’s spine, treacherous, unwelcome. Rhaenyra was close enough that she could smell the faintest hint of whisky on her breath, the slightest shift in her weight bringing them flush, almost touching. Her lips looked so soft, half-parted like that, and Alicent simply couldn’t do anything. Had no strength to fight it.

She should move.

She should say something cutting, sharp, should shove Rhaenyra away and remind her that this was not happening, that it couldn’t. But she didn’t. Rhaenyra’s fingers were still resting at the corner of her mouth, deliberate in their hesitation. Suddenly there were no more waves, just the desperate beating of Rhaenyra’s heart in her ears. She was waiting.

For what, Alicent wasn’t sure.

For her to pull back.

For her to lean in.

The thought made her dizzy.

And then—

“Oi!”

The moment shattered.

Aegon stumbled onto the balcony in a flurry of unsteady limbs and slurred words, blinking blearily between them. His tie was gone, his shirt wrinkled, a lazy grin stretching across his flushed face. How the fuck was he drunk already? “The fuck are you two doing out here?” He waggled his brows, his voice far too loud. “Father's looking for you.”

Alicent jerked away so fast it nearly made her head spin, heart hammering against her ribs, spilling her champagne. She turned, inhaling sharply, grasping at composure, at control. “Go back inside, Aegon.” Rhaenyra barked.

“So bossy.” He sighed, exaggerated, already losing interest.

Alicent didn’t dare look at Rhaenyra.

Didn’t dare acknowledge the heat still curling beneath her skin, the way her fingers twitched with the phantom sensation of her touch. “I need to—” she started, but the words felt empty. Rushed. Rhaenyra didn’t say anything. Didn’t stop her as she brushed past, disappearing into the glittering swell of the gala without a backward glance.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Mysaria sat in Alicent’s office, poised as ever, a walking study in contradiction. Her movements were fluid and deliberate, as if she were made of velvet and blunt edges, controlled, knowing, untouchable in a way that made you want to try anyway. Alicent sat across from her, fingers skimming the edge of her latest draft, nails tapping an absent rhythm against the paper with the same careful scrutiny she applied to everything. She had notes. Of course she had notes. If she was tired, if the weight of the last few days sat heavy in her chest, she didn’t let it show. Alicent never did.

“The pacing in the third act could be tighter,” she said, turning a page.

Mysaria hummed, amused. “You always say that.” 

“And I’m always right.” She replied with a knowing smile, taking off her reading glasses. Before Mysaria could even respond, the door swung open in a way only someone very particular could do. Someone with no regard for Alicent’s authority. Rhaenyra strode in, hair slightly tousled like he had brushed her hand through it one too many times, the top few buttons of her shirt undone like an afterthought. A folder in one hand, a pen twirling between her fingers.

“Alicent, I need your signature on —” She stopped dead in her tracks. Her eyes landed on Mysaria. An entire conversation was exchanged in a single glance, happening right in front of Alicent. There was a pause, a flicker of something unspoken; Alicent suspected recognition. And then Rhaenyra smiled. Slow. Cunning. Infuriating. “Well,” she said, voice dipping into something almost familiar. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Mysaria tilted her head, unfazed. “It is my publisher.” 

Rhaenyra made a vague gesture. “Yeah, yeah. Still.” Mysaria’s lips quirked, nostalgia in her expression. A cat watching a bird that had once been within reach. There’s a prickle down the back of Alicent’s neck, though she told herself it was nothing.

“You look well.”

“Obviously.” 

Alicent’s eyes flicked between them. It was subtle, she felt it before she understood. There was a change in their body language, an easy familiarity in the way they spoke. Not quite warmth, but something that had been warm once. Something intimate. Her stomach felt rotten because, well, it complicated things, right? Mysaria was a client, a prominent name in the industry, and Rhaenyra was… Rhaenyra. Alicent wasn’t jealous. Of course not; it was simply the cautionary side of her speaking. This could very well affect Hightower Publishing. Alicent wasn’t jealous at all. No.

Mysaria was still watching Rhaenyra, the way one might observe an old habit they’d long since outgrown. “Still drinking whisky like an old man?” 

“Still pretending not to be impressed by it?” 

Mysaria exhaled a quiet, polite laugh, shaking her head. Alicent clenched her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. She had never asked about Rhaenyra’s past lovers. Because she didn’t care. Because they didn’t matter. It wasn’t relevant. But now, watching this, watching them, she could see it. Could feel it. It became real, the fact that, for all its infuriating worth, Rhaenyra’s attentions weren’t exclusive. And it made her furious. 

Alicent snapped the manuscript shut. 

Mysaria glanced at the CEO, understanding, then stood smoothly, gathering her things. “We were just finishing,” she said, voice neutral. “I’ll look over your notes.” Alicent gave a stiff nod.

Rhaenyra stepped aside, letting Mysaria pass, but not before throwing her a lazy, amused little “Don’t be a stranger.” Mysaria only hummed, her heels clicking as she left. The door shut behind her. A second of silence. Alicent inhaled sharply.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Rhaenyra turned, eyebrows raised in a startle. “What?” 

She didn’t hesitate. “Is there a woman in this entire company you haven’t slept with?”

Rhaenyra’s expression flickered. She pauses, as if weighing whether it was even worth entertaining such a question. It wasn’t. Alicent was just looking for a reason, a plausible enough excuse to snap at Rhaenyra.  A beat, then: “You.” It was stronger than her.

Alicent’s breath caught; the word landed like a stone thrown into deep waters; the surface barely rippled, but underneath? Everything moved. Rhaenyra’s voice was quiet, firm. It was supposed to irritate her, make her laugh, and maybe even roll her eyes. But it didn’t, it just made her incredibly angry. Alicent hated it. Hated her. Loathed her. “Take this seriously,” she bit out. Rhaenyra’s eyes dulled.

“You take this seriously. You’re the one making a fucking scene.” 

Alicent stood too fast, the chair scraping back against polished marble, hands slamming against the table loud enough to pull everyone else’s attention. People stared at her through the glass-paneled walls, but Alicent didn’t care. Had not the mind to it, she was angry. Reasonably so. “Because you—” She cut herself off, teeth clenched. Because what? She wasn’t jealous (maybe if she repeated the thought one too many times, Alicent could convince herself it was true). Her palms hurt. “Out. Now. ”

Rhaenyra’s gaze held hers, nostrils flaring in anger, lips pressed into a straight, taut line. For a moment, Alicent wanted to push her against a wall, wrap her hands around Rhaenyra’s neck and squeeze. Wanted to claw out those violet eyes with her nails, wipe that infuriating look off her face. Rhaenyra tossed the folder onto Alicent’s desk. “Sign it.” And then she was gone. Alicent sat back down, hands curled into fists.

She told herself she didn’t care.

She told herself this as she picked up her pen, as she forced her focus back onto the manuscript, as she ignored the lingering scent of Rhaenyra’s perfume in the air, and the ghost of her anger. She told herself this as she straightened her spine, as she smoothed a hand over the papers before her, as she ignored the way Rhaenyra’s voice had softened, just slightly, when she spoke to Mysaria.

It wasn’t jealousy. Alicent refused it. And yet, the words on the page blurred, ink smudging into something senseless, meaningless; she could be signing her own termination papers for all she oversaw. Because Alicent had seen it. There was something familiar in Rhaenyra’s eyes. The slow, amused tilt of her mouth that she had grown used to. The kind of ease that only came with history, familiarity, with knowing someone intimately. Alicent hated that she noticed it. Hated that she could still feel the shape of it in the room, lingering like a shadow. Mysaria was poised, controlled, deliberate in every movement, so unlike Rhaenyra, who moved through life with reckless abandon, and burned through people without hesitation. And yet, there had been something between them. Something undeniable.

Alicent’s nails tapped a restless rhythm against the desk. A part of her knew she was being irrational, knew that stoking the fire between them was a mistake, especially after what happened, that pushing Rhaenyra would only make her push back harder. And yet, the idea of letting this slide, of swallowing her anger like she always did, made something coil tight in her chest. Rhaenyra had no idea what she had done, no idea how easily she could still get on Alicent’s last nerve. Maybe that was the real problem. Maybe Alicent needed to remind her that actions had consequences. That she wasn’t untouchable. The power was in her hands, and for once, she was tempted to use it.

And so, she did.

Alicent Hightower isn’t petty. She’s not. She’s professional. She doesn’t let personal matters interfere with business. She doesn’t act on impulse. She certainly didn’t abuse her authority just because a certain someone waltzed into her office, looking too smug for her own good, flirting with an ex like it was nothing. And yet. The email is already written before she’s even fully aware of it.

Subject: Additional Deliverables  

From: Alicent Hightower 

To: Rhaenyra Targaryen 

Rhaenyra, I need the Q4 projections revised with a more detailed market analysis. The initial report lacked depth; legal nerds to re-do it. Have it on my desk by the end of the day tomorrow.

Additionally, the draft contracts for the Baratheon deal need further scrutiny. The client flagged inconsistencies that should have been caught earlier. You’ll need to go over them again — thoroughly. 

Lastly, I’ll need you to oversee the Hightower Publishing collaboration personally. Given your familiarity with our authors, I assume this won’t be an issue. 

— A.H.

She hovers over the send button for a fraction of a second, reasoning with herself. Alicent should be above all of this, she should be cold and calculating and determined. Alicent Hightower should not be so affected by office rivalry. But again, Rhaenyra Targaryen is fucking insufferable, and has no regard for professionalism. So, logically, this is just Alicent being a good CEO and preserving the integrity of her company. What kind of business was she running if Rhaenyra kept sleeping with their clients? It was Alicent’s name on the line here. So yes, Alicent was totally reasonable in her reaction. The mouse hovers over the send button, mocking, daring. Alicent huffs. Then clicks. It’s not personal. It’s discipline. But when Rhaenyra storms into her office the next day, dragging a stack of paperwork behind her and scowling, Alicent can’t help the slight, satisfied curve of her lips.

“Seriously?” Rhaenyra demands, throwing the papers onto her desk. “This is bullshit.” 

Alicent leans back in her chair, serene. “If you can’t handle your workload, you should say so.” 

Rhaenyra glares, fuming. “You’re just pissed because Mysaria is my ex.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

Rhaenyra narrows her eyes, stepping closer, both hands braced against the desk. “Tell me to my face that this has nothing to do with yesterday.” 

Alicent meets her gaze, unwavering. Daring. “This has nothing to do with yesterday.” A blatant lie. Rhaenyra knows it. Alicent knows it. The air crackles between them, and Alicent’s office feels suffocating. She holds Alicent’s gaze a second too long, and whatever softness had been there that night was completely fucking gone.

Finally, Rhaenyra exhales sharply, snatching the top folder off the stack. “Fine.” She turns on her heel. “Enjoy your little power trip, boss.” The door slams shut behind her. Alicent exhales slowly. Maybe she is a little petty.

Rhaenyra hadn’t seen her since the charity gala. Not properly, anyway. 

The office was buzzing with the kind of energy that made Rhaenyra crawl under her desk and disappear. Meetings. Deadlines. A board review looming over the entire legal department like a guillotine. It was enough to make Rhaenyra’s head throb, but that wasn’t the real problem. The real problem was currently sitting behind a glass-panelled office, wearing a navy blue suit that fit way too well for Rhaenyra to focus on anything else; tapping a manicured finger against the armrest of her chair like she was plotting someone’s execution. Alicent had been colder than usual, which was impressive, considering the CEO already acted like eye contact with Rhaenyra was a personal inconvenience. 

Alicent had avoided it, buried herself in back-to-back meetings, left early, came in late — anything to create space. Distance. Rhaenyra told herself it wasn’t because of that moment, it wasn't because of the way Rhaenyra had touched her, the way she hadn’t stopped her. Not because she could still feel Alicent’s pulse beneath her fingers, betraying the careful composure she offered. But it was. Alicent didn’t ignore her, though. It wasn’t her style. No, she acknowledged her just enough to make it feel like punishment. A clipped nod in the hallway, the sharp sound of heels clicking past her office door without a second glance. Emails with nothing but timestamps and one-word directives, no more texts, no more excuses to have Rhaenyra close. It was childish, really. Rhaenyra should be used to being a nuisance. It was practically in the job description. But something about it made her chest tighten.

Maybe it was the deliberateness of it all.

As if Alicent was choosing not to look at her, and, for some reason, that bothered Rhaenyra more than the shouting matches ever did. Because she was used to it. Had grown up with anger and resentment, but never indifference. Never… this. It just wasn't them, cold and forcibly polite. Like that moment had erased every single tiny speck of progress Rhaenyra had been able to accomplish in the past few months. Not that she wasn't thinking about it, no. It was frankly the only thing inside her brain since the gala. How she looked, almost vulnerable, almost child-like, eyes shining. And there was the fact that Alicent hadn't pulled away; she showed no resistance, and if Rhaenyra were to kiss her… and then there was Aegon. Fuck ass Aegon.

Aegon had the worst fucking timing in human history.

Rhaenyra had been two seconds away — two — from doing something irrevocably stupid, from crossing that fine, perilous line she and Alicent had spent months pretending wasn’t there. And then, like a cosmic joke, he had shown up, tripping over his own expensive shoes, grinning like the world existed solely to amuse him. Rhaenyra had never wanted to commit a homicide more in her life. Not that it mattered now. Whatever had flickered in Alicent’s gaze that night, whatever raw, aching thing had lived between them for that brief, impossible moment, was gone. Beaten to death with one of the bricks that had fallen from Alicent’s emotional walls. Replaced by a silence so calculated, so painfully intentional, that it almost impressed Rhaenyra.

Almost.

Instead, she was left stewing in the aftermath, stuck festering in a month-long corporative purgatory of passive-aggressive professionalism, tight-lipped exchanges, and the occasional “ please review this” emails that made her want to set her laptop on fire. It was unbearable. It was worse than fighting. At least when they fought, there was passion. There was something! Now there was just this. Which is nothing, frankly. She ran a hand through her hair, slumping further into her chair, staring blankly at the email currently ruining her entire existence. And Rhaenyra hated it. Hated the way Alicent barely looked at her anymore, hated the clipped tone, the precision of every word, as if even speaking to her was an exercise in restraint. 

She could take anger. She could take sharp words, heated glances, the barely restrained venom that used to coat every exchange between them. She could take anything but this, this practised, deliberate indifference, this refusal to engage, to even acknowledge her in any way that mattered. It was suffocating, pressing down in between her shoulder blades like a weight she couldn’t shake. And Rhaenyra knew, knew, that Alicent was doing it on purpose. Because she was cruel, because she was calculating because she knew this was the one thing Rhaenyra couldn’t stand. Because she was Otto Hightower’s daughter, after all. And it was working. Gods, was it working. Rhaenyra was seconds away from snapping, from saying something sharp and cutting and impossible to take back. And maybe, maybe that was the point.

When Rhaenyra reaches her office, she doesn’t bother closing the door, tossing the folders above her desk with furious disregard, knocking over a pile of documents, scattering in a mess of spreadsheets and legal jargon. The noise earns a few startled glances from her colleagues outside, but Rhaenyra doesn’t care. She exhales sharply through her nose, jaw tight as she glares down at the mess she just made. Papers litter the floor in a chaotic sprawl of spreadsheets, contracts, useless corporate drivel that she suddenly has no patience for.

Fucking Alicent. Fucking Aegon, stumbling out onto that damn balcony at the worst possible moment. Fucking Rhaenyra for getting envolved.

“Someone’s in a mood,” comes a voice from the doorway, smooth and knowing.

Rhaenyra doesn’t need to look up. “Piss off, Laena.”

Laena hums, unimpressed, stepping inside anyway, her heels clicking against the floor. “That’s no way to greet your best friend, baby.” She leans against the desk, arms crossed. “What happened? Did someone beat you to the last bottle of single malt at the office bar?” Rhaenyra doesn’t answer, dropping heavily into the chair and dragging a hand through her hair. She groans loudly, exasperated. Laena’s eyes flick to the scattered documents. “Or did Alicent finally put you in your place?”

Rhaenyra does look up at that, eyes dark with rage boiling behind them. “She’s being impossible.”

Laena raises a brow. “You mean she’s being your boss?”

“She’s punishing me.”

“For what?”

Rhaenyra’s lips part — but she hesitates, because what exactly? For squeezing her way through the cracks into that impenetrable fortress of a heart? For having history with Mysaria? For swooping in at the gala? For touching her?

For existing?

Laena watches her struggle, then sighs dramatically, nudging a fallen folder with the toe of her Louboutin. “So. You finally did it, huh?”

Rhaenyra frowns. “Did what?”

Laena smirks. “Whatever this is. You and Alicent. The tension. The dramatics. The tantrum.” She gestures lazily at the mess. “I mean, come on, Nyra. You’re acting like a scorned mistress.”

“I am not —”

Laena cuts her off, already laughing. “You are.”

Rhaenyra groans again, dropping her head back against her chair. “I hate you.”

“You love me,” Laena corrects, plucking a page off the floor. “Just please make sure that when you two do it in the office, you try not to make a mess —”

“Laena.”

“Fine, fine,” Laena grins, holding up her hands in surrender. “I’ll stop. For now.” She tosses the paper back onto the desk. “But seriously, fix your face. You look like you just got dumped, and I can’t have my best friend embarrassing herself at work. Or me, by association.” Rhaenyra scowls but begrudgingly grabs a nearby pen, straightening the stack of documents in front of her. Laena watches, amused. “Good girl.”

“Get out.”

Laena winks before sauntering toward the door, tossing a final parting shot over her shoulder. “She’ll come crawling back, you know.” The door clicks shut.

Rhaenyra sits there, grip tightening around the pen, feeling unreasonably pissed off.

Alicent exhales sharply, pressing her fingers to her temple as she paces the length of her living room. The cityscape beyond the glass windows blurs into a mess of lights and movement, but she barely registers it. “She’s infuriating,” Alicent hisses, voice chummy, measured. “Absolutely insufferable. You’d think she wants to be difficult.”

Gwayne, freshly returned from whatever business had kept him out of King’s Landing, watches her with a knowing look, arms crossed as he leans against the back of her couch. He’s barely been back a day, and is already being subjected to the epic tragedy of Alicent Hightower vs. Rhaenyra Targaryen. “She’s not difficult,” he says lightly, “you just don’t know how to handle her.”

Alicent halts mid-step, glaring at him. “I handle her just fine.”

Gwayne snorts. “Right. That’s why you’re in here, ranting.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I am not —”

“You are.” He grins, leaning in slightly. “Which is interesting, because I was under the impression that you don’t care about her.”

“I don’t.”

Gwayne tilts his head, amused. “Sure.”

Alicent clenches her jaw, crossing her arms. “She thinks she can do whatever she wants, as if there aren’t rules. As if she doesn’t answer to anyone.”

“She answers to you,” Gwayne points out.

“Exactly,” Alicent snaps. “And yet, she — she pushes me. Always. It’s like she thrives off of it, she’s this impossible constant in my life that I can’t fucking get rid of. She has no respect for authority. There are rules, rules that must be followed. And she just doesn’t! No respect for order, structure.”

Gwayne hums, pretending to consider. “You sure it’s authority she doesn’t respect? Or just you?”

Alicent blinks, caught off guard, and for one horrifying moment, she thinks of the gala. Thinks of Rhaenyra’s hand swiping across her mouth, the warmth of her touch, the way it had lingered, how Alicent didn’t push her away, in fact, she wanted her closer, how easily she could have… She inhales sharply, shaking it off. “She’s everywhere,” she mutters instead, more to herself than to Gwayne. “In my office, at events, in my —” Alicent stops abruptly, swallowing. “It’s like she does it on purpose.”

Gwayne watches her carefully before sighing, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. “Look,” he says, “you’re driving yourself crazy over this. Just — stop. Be more lenient at work, let her get away with a little more. You know she thrives on pushing your buttons, so don’t let her.”

Alicent scoffs. “And if she keeps testing me?”

“Then ignore her everywhere else,” Gwayne shrugs. “No eye contact, no biting remarks, no getting roped into whatever ridiculous push-and-pull thing you two have going on.” Alicent hesitates, considering. “Think of it like a business strategy,” Gwayne continues. “If she doesn’t get a reaction, she’ll get bored and move on.”

Something in Alicent twists, an ugly, cutting little thing, at the thought of Rhaenyra moving on. The idea of her draping that same easy, practiced charm over someone else, pressing against them with that same reckless hunger. It shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t. But then she considers the alternative. Imagines this… whatever this is, stretching on indefinitely. A slow, brutal war, attrition, corrosion, neither of them willing to surrender, neither of them willing to let go. It would burn them both down to nothing, leaving nothing but wreckage in its wake. That cannot happen. Better to cut the thread now than let herself get tangled in it.

Alicent squares her shoulders. “Fine,” she says, voice cool, collected. “You’re right.”

Gwayne smiles. “I usually am.”

She shoots him a look, then turns back to the dining table, placing a grounding hand against the wood. “I’ll keep things professional.”

Gwayne lifts a brow, unimpressed. “You said that last time.”

“This time I mean it.”

Gwayne just shakes his head, unconvinced. Alicent, ignoring him, reaches for her wine glass, taking a slow sip, and resumes pacing on the floor of her penthouse, pushing the conversation away, pushing Rhaenyra away. It will be easy, she tells herself. Simple. Yeah. She can ignore Rhaenyra Targaryen.

She will.

Well, at least she tried to. It was a nice thought, albeit how briefly it lived. Alicent was barely awake the next morning when she checked her phone, because, yes, the first thing Alicent Hightower did when she opened her eyes was work; the dim glow of the screen casting long shadows across her sheets. She scrolled absently through emails, mind still thick with sleep — until she saw it. A new project. A major one. And Rhaenyra’s name is right next to hers. Alicent bolted upright so fast she nearly fell off her bed.

No.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She had plans — plans that involved keeping her distance, staying composed, being professional. Yet, somehow, this. Her grip tightened around her phone as she exhaled slowly through her nose, already bracing herself for what came next. She didn’t have to wait long. By the time she made it to the office, there was a storm brewing in the form of Rhaenyra Targaryen, and it made landfall exactly three minutes after Alicent had settled at her desk.

The door swung open with enough force to rattle the frame.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Alicent didn’t flinch. Didn’t even look up. “Good morning to you too,” she said dryly, continuing to write in her planner. Not the phone’s calendar, no — the physical leather-bound agenda she meticulously updated, each entry written in precise, elegant script. It was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself. There was something grounding about it, about the weight of ink on paper, the controlled neatness of each task and meeting. She flipped the pages with methodical precision, scanning the week ahead, her mind already moving forward, calculating, planning. 

Rhaenyra slammed a printout of the email onto Alicent’s desk. “Fix it.”

Alicent finally glanced up, tilting her head. “I wasn’t aware this was my doing.”

“Oh, please.” Rhaenyra crossed her arms, a picture of barely-contained rage. “Who else would put us on a project together? Was it you, or was it your father?” Alicent clenched her jaw at the mention of Otto, her fingers curling slightly against her desk. “This is your fault,” Rhaenyra continued, voice sharp as a blade. “First, you pile work on me out of spite, and now this? What’s next? A fucking retreat?”

Alicent inhaled through her nose, willing herself to remain calm. “I had nothing to do with it,” she said evenly. “If you have a complaint, take it up with the board.”

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes. “Oh, I will.”

A beat of silence. A slow inhale, a slower exhale. “There’s a new acquisition deal on the table,” Alicent explained, keeping her voice even, professional. “A publishing house in the Free Cities is looking for a partnership to distribute a collection of legal texts. My father wants Hightower Publishing to take it on.”

“You mean —”

“Yes.” She cut it. “It involves both our departments. Which means we’ll be working together.” Oh, the words felt bitten on Alicent’s tongue. Rhaenyra huffed, astonished. She should have left it at that. Instead, she set her pen down, steepled her fingers, and smirked. “What’s the matter, Rhaenyra?” she asked, voice almost lilting. “Afraid you won’t be able to handle it?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes darkened. Oh, she was seething. But beneath all that anger, there was something else, a flicker of something dangerous, something unmistakable. Something that look a lot like want. Alicent felt it like a live wire, sizzling in the space between them. Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, hands pressing flat against the desk as she leaned in, so close that Alicent could smell the faint traces of her shampoo. “I’ll handle it,” Rhaenyra replied, voice low and steady. “The real question is, will you?”

Alicent’s breath caught for half a second, but she masked it well, lifting her chin. “Of course,” she said with something that wasn’t quite a smile. Their faces were close, enough where Rhaenyra could smell her breath, mint and coffee and the barely contained ‘fuck you’ dancing on her tongue. “I can take it just fine.”

They stared at each other, the air between them thick enough to choke on. Rhaenyra’s jaw was tight, her grip on the desk white-knuckled, but it was her eyes that did it, swarthy, heated, dragging over Alicent like she was something to be depleted. Alicent refused to look away, even as something hot coiled low in her stomach, even as the weight of Rhaenyra’s gaze burned through the last frayed edges of her composure. Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, the sound half a scoff, half something else. Then, with a sharp push off the desk, she snatched the papers back, fingers grazing Alicent’s in the process. A barely-there touch, fleeting, inconsequential. And yet. Alicent felt it everywhere.

Rhaenyra turned on her heel without another word, leaving nothing behind but the scent of her perfume and the lingering heat of something unfinished. Alicent let out a slow, measured breath, pressing her hands into her lap. This was going to be hell. She wanted to yell at her, pick up that glass paper weight and throw it right at Rhaenyra’s head. But then, Alicent thought about what Gwayne had said, and she did the unthinkable. If not for the sake of peace, for her the sake of her underwear that seemed to always be soaked. "Please." She said, soft. Alicent was already so tired. "Don't make this difficult for me." Rhaenyra froze in the doorway. It wasn’t the word itself that stopped her — it was the way Alicent said it. 

Soft.

Almost quiet enough to be swallowed by the hum of the office, by the clicking keyboards and murmured conversations just beyond these walls. But Rhaenyra heard it. Felt it like a hand closing around her wrist, yanking her back. Slowly, she turned. Alicent wasn’t looking at her anymore. Her gaze was fixed somewhere on her desk, as if she could will herself anywhere but here. The tension in her shoulders had shifted, no longer sharp and rigid, but weighted.

Rhaenyra swallowed.

It was the closest thing to a plea she had ever heard from Alicent Hightower. And fuck if it didn’t make something tighten in Rhaenyra’s chest. A long silence stretched between them, charged and heavy. For once, Rhaenyra had nothing clever to say. No sharp-edged retort. No lazy smirk. Just a flicker of something raw that she wasn’t ready to name. She exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair.

“Fine,” Rhaenyra muttered, and without another word, she walked out.

The conference room was silent except for the occasional rustle of paper and the infuriatingly consistent tick of the wall clock. Rhaenyra had never felt more out of place in her life. It wasn’t the deal; contracts and negotiations were second nature to her. It wasn’t the setting. She had spent more hours than she cared to count in this very room, hammering out terms and conditions. No, the problem sat directly across from her, flicking through a stack of documents with the kind of detached precision that made Rhaenyra’s skin itch.

Alicent hadn’t looked at her once.

Not really. There had been a glance when she walked in, a clipped nod in acknowledgment, and then… nothing. Silence. Cold and suffocating. Rhaenyra exhaled through her nose, resisting the urge to drum her fingers against the table, or to run out screaming. “So,” she started, forcing ease into her voice, “are we just going to sit in silence and hope the contract writes itself?”

Alicent didn’t even pause, flipping a page, reading glasses perched on her nose. “I trust you to do your job.”

The words were polite, neutral — on paper, there was nothing wrong with them. But the tone? The razor-thin sharpness? That was a different story. Rhaenyra scoffed, leaning back in her chair. “Right. And I suppose I’m meant to do that without any communication from the business side of things?”

Alicent’s eyes flickered up then, finally, and Rhaenyra hated the way she felt that glance like a cold slap. “If you need clarification, ask,” she said evenly. “Otherwise, I don’t see the need for unnecessary conversation.”

Unnecessary conversation.

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw. “I wasn’t aware we were operating under a vow of silence now.”

Alicent didn’t respond, turning another page. Gods. Rhaenyra had known it would be bad — she knew Alicent well enough to expect the inevitable pushback — but this? This was fucking unbearable. It wasn’t anger, wasn’t heated or biting or charged the way they usually clashed. It was cold. Calculated. A deliberate retreat.

And it was driving her insane.

Rhaenyra inhaled deeply, forcing herself to focus on the contract in front of her, scanning through the clauses, highlighting potential red flags with too much force, pressing the pen so hard against paper it bled through the pages. This is fine, she told herself. She’s pulling away, so what? Let her. But it wasn’t fine. Because Alicent wasn’t fine. She was too still, too rigid, fingers toying absently with the rings on her hand — a tell. Rhaenyra had learned them all over the years, had memorized them without meaning to. And this one? This meant Alicent was barely keeping it together.

Good.

If Rhaenyra had to sit here and brew in their discomfort, then so did she. She tapped the contract with her pen. “There’s an issue with the distribution rights.”

Alicent hummed, impassive. “Fix it.”

Rhaenyra gritted her teeth. “You need to be involved in this. We’re negotiating a deal together, or have you forgotten that part?”

Alicent set her papers down with a quiet thud, leveling Rhaenyra with a cool stare. “I haven’t forgotten.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

A muscle in Alicent’s jaw twitched. Rhaenyra had to swallow the urge to kiss it smooth. “What exactly is your problem?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Rhaenyra drawled, leaning forward slightly. “Maybe the fact that you’ve been treating me like a ghost ever since the gala?”

Alicent’s expression didn’t change, but her grip on the papers in front of her did — knuckles going white for the briefest second before she set them aside.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Rhaenyra laughed, humourless. “Right. Because you don’t avoid things, do you?”

“Not everything is about you, Rhaenyra.” Hightower replied, tired.

“Really? Because you haven’t looked me in the eye properly, not once, and I’m starting to think it’s not just because I’m hideous.” She was going insane.

Alicent let out a slow, controlled breath. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“No, of course not,” Rhaenyra bit back. “You’d rather sit there and pretend nothing happened.”

Pretend we didn’t almost — She bit her tongue. Too much. She wasn’t supposed to bring it up. They weren’t supposed to talk about it. But the words had already landed, and the shift in Alicent’s posture was immediate — stiffening, fingers curling against the table’s edge, gaze flicking somewhere past Rhaenyra’s shoulder. For a moment, the room was silent.

Then Alicent’s voice, quiet and avoiding: “You should get back to work.”

Rhaenyra stared at her, chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. This was worse. She wanted to argue, wanted to push, wanted to rip through whatever fucking wall Alicent had thrown up between them, but she couldn’t. Not like this. Not when she wasn’t even sure what she wanted from her. Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, snatching up her pen and focusing on the contract with renewed determination. “Fine.”

“Fine,” Alicent echoed, softer.

They worked in silence after that. And if Rhaenyra noticed the way Alicent’s fingers kept twisting her rings, or the way her own pulse jumped every time their hands got too close to the same page, she ignored it. For now, at least. The air in the conference room was thick with unspoken words. Rhaenyra tried to focus, eyes fixed on the contract in front of her, but the letters blurred together, meaningless. Across from her, Alicent was still, too still, her posture perfectly poised, her expression unreadable.

It was unbearable. They worked in quiet resentment, the kind of silence that wasn’t comfortable, wasn’t easy. It crackled with the weight of everything unsaid, stretching tight between them like a spring about to snap.

And then, inevitably, Rhaenyra needed to talk to her. “I’m revising the terms on distribution,” She said, breaking the silence. Her voice was clipped, careful. “I’ll need your input before I send it out.”

Alicent didn’t look up. “Send it to my assistant.”

Her fingers twitched. “I need your input.”

Alicent sighed, a long, controlled exhale, and finally — finally — lifted her gaze. “The terms are already solid. I don’t see why you’re changing them.”

“Because they don’t benefit us.” She replied as if it was obvious.

Alicent tilted her head slightly, as if considering her. “And what do you propose?”

The neutrality in her voice was infuriating.

Rhaenyra leaned forward, tapping the document with the end of her pen. “If we extend exclusivity by three months, we gain leverage on the renewal clause. Otherwise, we’re locked into a deal that gives them too much control over —”

“I know how the contract works,” Alicent cut in, voice quiet but firm.

Rhaenyra’s fingers curled into her palm. “Then fucking act like it, instead of brushing me off like an incompetent intern.”

A muscle in Alicent’s jaw flexed. “If I had any doubts about your competence, you wouldn’t be here.”

Something in Rhaenyra’s chest lurched. That could be considered a praise, under other circumstances. She ignored it. “It doesn't seem so.”

Alicent’s gaze darkened, her fingers pressing against the table’s surface, nails digging into the polished wood. “You always do this,” she muttered.

“Do what?”

“Push,” Alicent said, voice low, strained. “Like a child testing boundaries just to see how far they’ll bend.” Rhaenyra’s breath caught. “You act like the world is solely for your entertainment, you have no regard for anyone else!” Fuck, that was familiar, wasn’t it? That was them. Every glance, every touch, every moment of lingering tension, of lines crossed and redrawn, one on top of the other, of almosts and never-enoughs — It had always been a game of push and pull. “Your actions have consequences, Rhaenyra. Not just for you, but for the people around you. Learn your place, and stay in it.” And the worst part? Rhaenyra liked it.

She liked pushing, liked forcing Alicent to react, to feel, because even if that feeling was irritation, anger, or resentment, it was real. It meant she wasn’t indifferent. And indifference? That was the one thing Rhaenyra couldn’t bear.

She exhaled, slow and deliberate, before forcing her voice into something almost casual. “You think I push because I don’t take this seriously?”

Alicent’s eyes flickered, a softness passing over her face before she schooled it into careful detachment. “I think you push because you don’t know what you want.”

The words landed like a slap. For a second, Rhaenyra couldn’t breathe. She could hear the hidden words beneath them, not just with the contract. Not just with work.

Rhaenyra swallowed, forcing herself to hold Alicent’s gaze. “I know exactly what I want.”

A beat. Alicent inhaled sharply, mouth sucking in air as if her lugs weren’t enough. Something sharp and silent passed between them like a blade. She stood, smoothing down the front of her blouse, posture rigid. “Send me your revisions when you’re done.”

Just like that, the moment was over. Rhaenyra watched her go, pulse hammering. She had won the argument. So why did it feel like she had lost something else entirely? Rhaenyra watched the door swing shut behind Alicent, her grip tightening around the pen in her hand. The air in the conference room was still thick with tension, humming with the weight of everything unsaid. She exhaled sharply, dropping the pen onto the table and dragging her hands through her hair.

You don’t know what you want.

The words rang in her ears, settling under her skin like an itch she couldn’t scratch. She wanted to storm after Alicent, wanted to grab her wrist and force her to look at her, to see her. But what would she even say? What would be enough to make her stay, to break past that cold, impenetrable wall? Nothing. Because Alicent was good at this. At shutting her out, at making Rhaenyra feel like a fool for even trying. And worse, she was right. Rhaenyra hated that she was right.

She let out a breath through her gritting teeth, snatching up the contract again. Fine. If this was how Alicent wanted to play it, then so be it. She would work. She would drown herself in negotiations and clauses and legalese until she stopped thinking about the cut of Alicent’s voice, about the way her fingers twisted at her rings, about the flicker of something real that had almost — almost — surfaced between them before she had shut it down. She wouldn’t push. Not this time. At least, that’s what she told herself.

But as she stared down at the words in front of her, her vision blurred with frustration, one thought refused to leave her mind: Alicent had looked at her. And that was enough to make her chase. Even when she knew better. Because Rhaenyra was persistent, even at the cost of herself. For the first time ever since she started working at Hightower Publishing, Rhaenyra thought about quitting. It wasn't like she needed the job, not like her last name wasn't enough to give her every opportunity. But Viserys wanted her to start from the ground up, to make Rhaenyra Targaryen a name on its own. 

So she didn't. Rhaenyra didn't quit that night.

But as she drove home, her brain didn't shut up. Not when Alicent was so clearly holding back. And that was the worst fucking part of it all. Because if she saw nothing there, nothing behind those big sad brown eyes that indicated Alicent felt it, she wouldn't chase it. But it was there, staring back at her, pleading and aching and mocking her. 

Rhaenyra had gotten good at pretending. Pretending not to notice the way Alicent’s gaze lingered whenever she rolled her sleeves up during meetings, fingers absently twirling a pen as she leaned back in her chair, the perfect picture of someone who wasn’t thinking about what those hands could do. Pretending not to catch the way Alicent’s breath hitched, so quick, so quiet, whenever Rhaenyra got too close, just barely brushing past her in the narrow hallway outside the executive offices. Pretending she didn’t know that Alicent was trying her hardest to ignore her. It was almost cute, the effort. But Rhaenyra had never been one for patience, and Alicent was running out of places to hide.

Chapter Text

It started with exhaustion. Or maybe it started with the fact that neither of them could afford to keep doing this — this endless back and forth, this cycle of cold stares and clipped words and barbed emails that said fix this instead of… whatever it was that they talked about it before. They had spent the last forty-eight hours circling the same fucking issues, locked in an office long after everyone else had left. The deadline had been pushed up, of course, it had, because the universe existed solely to make Alicent’s life harder, and now they were stuck together, trapped in the same suffocating space with nothing but legal jargon and mutual resentment between them.

Alicent had snapped first. Not surprising.

“If you actually listened instead of running your mouth, we’d be done by now.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, pushing back from the desk. “Oh, forgive me for not being at my best after a two-day hostage situation in your glass prison.”

“Glass prison?” Alicent repeated, unimpressed.

“Your office is see-through. You’re a cartoon villain with better hair.”

Alicent inhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “Rhaenyra.”

“Alicent.”

“This isn’t working.”

“No shit.” A beat. Then, with a sigh, Rhaenyra flopped back into her chair, dragging a hand through her hair. “We need a truce.”

Alicent paused. “Excuse me?”

“Truce.” She repeated, slower this time, as if Alicent was particularly dense. Rhaenyra’s head tipped back, eyes closed, her exhaustion finally catching up with her. “If we keep this up, we’re going to murder each other before the project is done, and I don’t know about you, but I’m too hot for prison.”

Alicent gave her a look. “Oh, I’m sure you’d thrive.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “I would, wouldn’t I?”

Alicent pressed her lips together, fingers drumming against the desk. There was logic to it, of course. They needed to work together, not against each other. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? Because working together meant… being together. It meant less distance, less restraint. It meant Rhaenyra smiling at her like that — like she knew.

“We need to get this done and over with.” Raenyra continued. “And I'd rather not spend the next two weeks trying to set you on fire with my mind.”

Alicent's lips quirked. “How selfless of you.”

“I try.” Rhaenyra smiled.

Alicent ignored the way her stomach tightened at the sight of it. “And what, exactly, does this truce entail?”

“Well,” Rhaenyra drawled, leaning forward, her elbow resting on the desk, “I was thinking less death glares, fewer power plays. Maybe even an entire conversation without you trying to kill me through sheer willpower.”

Alicent arched a brow. “That’s ambitious.”

“I believe in us,” Rhaenyra said, all mock sincerity.

Still, she sighed, resigned. “Fine. Truce.”

Rhaenyra smirked, sticking out her hand. “Shake on it?”

Alicent hesitated. She shouldn’t. But she did. It was a handshake, right? Just skin on skin. Alicent was professional, composed, she could do this. And when Rhaenyra’s fingers curled around hers, warm and just a little too familiar, Alicent realized, with a sinking feeling, that she’d just made a terrible mistake. The moment their hands touched, it felt electric — like burning, like something neither of them should be indulging in but couldn’t seem to stop. Rhaenyra’s grip was firm, commanding, the press of her fingers against Alicent’s palm sending something sharp and hot up her spine. And they lingered, just a second too long, just enough for the air between them to shift, for something unspoken to press in close, thick and unbearable.

Their gazes locked.

Rhaenyra’s smirk had faltered, lips slightly parted like she was on the verge of saying something, but no words came. Alicent could feel her pulse hammering in her throat, could hear the faint, unsteady hitch of breath that wasn’t hers. Then, almost too quickly, they pulled away. Alicent turned sharply back to the paperwork, suddenly hyperaware of the space between them, too close, too charged. Rhaenyra exhaled a quiet laugh, but it lacked its usual sharpness, coming out almost breathless.

“Right,” Rhaenyra said, dragging a hand through her hair. “Truce.”

Alicent nodded once, stiffly. “Truce.”

It was a lie, and they both knew it.

“I, uh…” Rhaenyra gestured with her hand, thumb pointing at the door. She cleared her throat. “Can I go now? You don’t pay me enough to stay past midnight.”

Alicent blinked, forcing herself to refocus, to pretend like the heat still lingering on her skin wasn’t real. That she didn’t feel it. Rhaenyra’s touch, brief but searing, still burning at her fingertips. She straightened in her chair, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from her blouse. “No, actually. I was thinking we could stare at each other in agonizing silence for another hour.” A joke. Huh.

Rhaenyra snorted, some of her usual arrogance slipping back into place. “As tempting as that sounds, I’d rather gouge my eyes out.”

“Shame.” Alicent tilted her head, considering. “That might improve your contract revisions.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw dropped, offended. “Oh, fuck you.”

Alicent laughed, just barely, before composing herself. It was almost normal. “Go home, Rhaenyra.”

“I was trying,” she shot back, rolling her eyes before turning towards the door. But something lingered in the air between them — like the tension hadn’t quite faded. Like maybe, just maybe, neither of them really wanted to leave. “Maybe…” Rhaenyra said, her tongue moving without her brain's consent. “Maybe we need a change of pace. I can't spend another day inside your glass dome of doom.”

Alicent sighed, rubbing her temples like that might somehow physically dislodge the sheer insufferability of Rhaenyra Targaryen from her brain.

“A change of pace,” she repeated flatly.

Rhaenyra nodded, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “Yeah. Before you develop a stress ulcer, and I end up stabbing myself in the eye with one of those overpriced Montblanc pens of yours.”

Alicent inhaled slowly, counting to five. Then exhaled. “Fine.”

Rhaenyra blinked, momentarily thrown off her game. “…Fine?”

“Yes,” Alicent said, already regretting it. “My place. But you’re confined to the living room.”

Rhaenyra’s grin was immediate, wolfish. “Your place ?”

“ Living room .” Alicent leveled her with a warning look.

Rhaenyra made a show of nodding solemnly. “Of course. No wandering. No snooping. No —”

“Not even breathing near my bedroom door,” Alicent cut in.

Rhaenyra smirked. “That depends. How thin are the walls?”

Alicent stared at her, expression blank, though something in her jaw twitched. “I am two seconds from rescinding this invitation.”

“Invitation?” Rhaenyra echoed, tilting her head. “That makes it sound so personal.”

Alicent pinched the bridge of her nose. “I take it back. I do want you to stab yourself with a Montblanc.”

“Wow,” Rhaenyra exhaled, shaking her head. “That’s the kind of employer-employee abuse they make HR videos about.”

Alicent sighed. This was a mistake. A huge mistake. But it was also the fastest way to get this project done without developing an aneurysm, and she wasn’t vain enough to pretend she didn’t have a preference between those two outcomes.

Rhaenyra was still watching her, smug. “Don’t worry, boss,” she drawled, already heading for the door. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Alicent stared after her, unimpressed. “You don’t even know what best behavior looks like.”

Rhaenyra shot her a look over her shoulder. “Guess you’ll just have to invite me into more rooms to find out.”

Alicent shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and reminded herself that homicide was illegal. "Out.” 

Rhaenyra made her way back to her office, the halls mostly empty by now, fluorescent lights dimmed to signal that, for normal people, the workday had ended hours ago. The heel of her Oxfords echoing against marble, accompanied by the sound of a distant vacuum cleaner somewhere down the hall. Rhaenyra gathered her things with practiced precision: laptop, phone, the stack of papers she was technically supposed to have reviewed two days ago.

She was halfway through shoving them into her bag when movement caught her eye through the glass wall. Alicent. Still at her desk, still neatly composed, though her exhaustion was in the way she moved, slower now, a little less precise. Alicent was beautiful. It wasn’t a new revelation. Rhaenyra had known this for years, had grown up beside that beauty, watched it sharpen into something more refined, more severe. It was different now — colder, restrained in a way that made her want to dig her nails in and see if she could unravel it. She probably looked ridiculous, staring like this, but she couldn’t help it. Alicent was so easy to watch. Every precise movement, every unconscious tell. The furrow of her brows, the way she pressed a fingertip to her temple when she was frustrated.

She was talking to someone on the phone, her expression schooled into something unreadable. But then she did something. It was nothing. Something small. Barely even worth noting. She pulled the cap off her pen with her teeth. And Rhaenyra, inexplicably, felt heat curl at the base of her spine. She should not be turned on right now. Not in the middle of the office, not after they agreed on a truce, not over something as fucking mundane as Alicent’s teeth scraping over plastic. And yet… Rhaenyra swallowed, shifting, pulse picking up. Because now she wasn’t just watching, now she was imagining. Imagining those same lips on her neck, on her jaw, biting. Those same teeth dragging lower, leaving behind marks that would last days.

She exhaled sharply, rolling her shoulders, trying to shake the feeling. It was absurd. It was nothing. Alicent tapped her pen against her desk, still focused on her call, completely unaware of the effect she was having. Rhaenyra clenched her jaw. She needed to get out of here. Now. But her legs wouldn’t move. It was stupid, idiotic, so, so, stupidly idiotic. And yet, it wasn't the first time. Not by a long shot. Because Rhaenyra had always looked at Alicent, hadn't she? Even when she shouldn't have. Even when she was young and dumb and didn't understand why the sight of Alicent — annoying, prissy, perfect Alicent — made her stomach feel like it was full of molten iron. She remembered being sixteen, watching Alicent adjust the strap of her dress, fingers grazing bare skin, the shift of fabric as she pulled it tighter.

She remembered being nineteen, catching sight of her through a doorway, hair still damp from the shower, the smell of citrus shampoo and warm skin lingering even after she was gone. She remembered — Gods, she remembered — lying in bed, hands clenched in her sheets, eyes squeezed shut, thinking of delicate fingers wrapped around a pen, thinking of soft pink lips pursed in concentration, thinking of her , always her, only her. And now, standing here, watching Alicent through the glass, it was no different. The heat, the ache, the undeniable pull of something dangerous and unwanted and inescapable.

Still entirely unaware of her audience, she reached up, pulled the pin from her bun, and let her hair tumble down in soft auburn waves. Rhaenyra swallowed. Hard. She had never once, in the entirety of the time they've known each other, touched Alicent's hair. It looked soft, and for a moment, Rhaenyra imagined running her fingers through it, imagining how it looked in bed, how nice it would be to tangle her hands in it and just pull. Then, as if some higher power was punishing her, Alicent exhaled, a slow, weary thing, and unfastened the first two buttons of her shirt.

Rhaenyra was going to lose her mind.

It wasn’t even intentional. That was the worst part. Alicent wasn’t doing this to tease her, wasn’t performing for anyone. She was just tired. But fuck, Rhaenyra could have fallen to her knees right then and there, desperate to put her mouth on her, desperate to… She dragged a hand down her face.

Get it together.

But she couldn’t. Because now the open collar revealed a sliver of pale skin, and the way Alicent tipped her head back against her chair, rubbing her temple, only made it worse. She looked wrecked. And Rhaenyra wanted. Desire curled tight in her stomach, molten and insistent, seeping into her bloodstream. She had the awful, reckless urge to get up, walk in there, and make that exhaustion disappear with her mouth. Alicent shifted, fingers skimming her own throat absently, self-soothing. Rhaenyra’s breath hitched. Then, as if fate were particularly cruel, Alicent finally turned her head — looked straight through the glass.

Their eyes met.

Rhaenyra’s stomach bottomed out.

Alicent blinked.

Her brows furrowed, just slightly, as if only now realizing she was being watched. Rhaenyra should have looked away. Should have schooled her expression into something neutral, something that didn’t scream I was just thinking about my mouth on your skin. But she didn’t. She just sat there, pinned beneath the weight of Alicent’s gaze, heat curling up her spine. Alicent’s lips parted. Rhaenyra wondered if she could hear the way her breath hitched, if she could see the way her fingers curled against the desk, gripping the wood like it could tether her to something solid. And then, Alicent flushed. Just the faintest dusting of pink across her cheeks, her throat. Her lips pressed together, and her posture straightened, like she had caught onto something, like she could feel the tension thickening the air between them. Rhaenyra’s tongue darted out to wet her lips. Alicent’s gaze flickered downward. Something charged passed between them — something impossible to name. Abruptly, Alicent got up and picked up a remote, pressed a single button and the curtains were being lowered. 

Rhaenyra didn't know if she was glad because Alicent was hidden from her, or if she felt the cutting edge of disappointment poking at her neck. Either way, the moment was over. Rhaenyra finished gathering her things and made her way out of the office.

It was only three days later. Rhaneyra hadn't expected to be there so soon, least of all like this — elbow-deep in contract revisions at Alicent's dinner table, the faint sound of rain against the windows, the scent of something sweet lingering in the air. Vanilla, maybe. Or honey. She expected Alicent's home to be something cold and impersonal, like her office, a penthouse designed to be impressive rather than lived in: high ceilings, sleek furniture, everything arranged in that painfully precise Hightower touch. And it was, mostly.

The living room was styled to perfection, a study in neutral tones, no color out of place. The kitchen gleamed, polished marble counters free of any real sign of use. Even the dining table where they sat now looked like it had never hosted an actual meal, just carefully placed decor and definitely not two people arguing over a business proposal at nearly midnight.

But then, there were signs of life. Little things that didn't belong in a showroom.

Books stacked neatly (but not perfectly) on the coffee table, titles ranging from dry corporate strategy from well-worn classics. A throw blanket draped over the couch, slightly askew, like someone had actually used it instead of placing it there for aesthetic balance. A coffee cup abandoned on the counter, half-full, with lipstick smudged at the rim. Alicent herself, curled in the dining chair, bare feet tucked under her, auburn hair down, chewing the end of a pen in precise focus, no longer keeping the straight-backed posture she forced in public.

Her place was designed, yes, every detail deliberate, curated for an image. And yet, there were traces of the real Alicent everywhere, slipping through the cracks. A lone earring on the console table, as if she'd been distracted mid-removal. A shopping bag on the floor by the door, forgotten. A coat draped over the arm of a chair instead of hung neatly in the closet. The bathroom light left on. The faintest scent of something soft under the crispness of expensive perfume — vanilla and honey, yes, but also something warmer. Skin, warmth, home.

She wasn’t sure why it unsettled her. She tried not to think about it too hard.

Alicent had barely looked at her since letting her in, too focused on setting up at the dining table, papers spread out in perfect stacks, laptop open, wine glass already half full. Rhaenyra, in contrast, had been less productive. She had been wandering, observing, soaking in every little detail like it was something to be studied.

“You done snooping?” Alicent asked without looking up.

Rhaenyra grinned. “Not yet.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple. “Can you at least pretend we’re here to work?”

Rhaenyra strolled toward the table, settling into the seat across from her. “Oh, I’m working,” she said, smirking as she leaned back. “I’m just multitasking.”

Alicent exhaled slowly, eyes flicking up just briefly before fixing on the document in front of her. “Then read the proposal.”

Rhaenyra picked up the page nearest to her, scanning it vaguely. “Mmm.”

Alicent’s fingers tapped impatiently against the stem of her wine glass. “Mmm?”

“It’s fine ,” Rhaenyra mused, still only half-reading. “I mean, for something written by a control freak.”

Alicent’s fingers stilled around the wine glass, her jaw tightening like she was physically restraining herself from throwing it at Rhaenyra’s face. “Control freak?” She repeated, voice deceptively smooth.

Rhaenyra nodded, all casual confidence as she leaned back, legs stretching under the table. “Meticulous. Exacting. Perfectionist. Micromanaging tyrant…”

“And yet you're still employed.” Alicent cut it. “Just read the proposal before you make any more insightful observations.” She continued, taking a sip from her glass.

Rhanyra smiled. Not smirked — smiled, “Oh, I've read enough. It's classic you. Cold, ruthless, unnecessarily long-winded.”

Alicent scoffed. “It's succinct.”

“It’s terrifying,” Rhaenyra corrected. “I think it actively threatens the reader. There’s a line here that might actually be a death sentence.”

Alicent reached for her wine again, fingers gripping the stem just a little too tightly. “Remind me why I agreed to this?”

“Because you need me,” Rhaenyra said smoothly, grinning.

Alicent huffed a quiet laugh, shaking her head, before taking a slow sip of wine. Her lips were red from it, and Rhaenyra caught herself watching. Too long. When Alicent set the glass down, her gaze flickered up. Their eyes met. And for a second, neither of them moved. The air felt stuffy, suddenly, charged and thick, the teasing undercurrent that was so briefly familiar shifting into something else. Alicent’s tongue darted out, a quick flick against her lower lip, almost like she was about to say something, but then didn’t. Rhaenyra felt her own breath catch, heartbeat spiking, like a line had been crossed somewhere in their push and pull, and she wasn’t sure which one of them had done it. Alicent was so close, hands still resting on the table, close enough that if Rhaenyra just moved — 

The oven beeped. Loud. Jarring.

Alicent startled lightly, blinking as if she'd been yanked back into her body, and Rhaenyra could see it happen, the moment Alicent remembered herself, the walls slamming back into place, the tension severed in a clean cut. Rhaenyra exhaled, slumping back in her chair with a dramatic groan. “That is the worst timing in human history.”

Alicent, already standing, shot her a dry look. “Consider it divine intervention.” She turned away, moving toward the kitchen, leaving Rhaenyra staring after her, pulse still racing, the ghost of something unfinished settling in her chest. Then she laughed. Just at the absurdity of it all. “Are you fucking laughing —”

“By the old gods,” Rhaenyra wheezed, tipping her head back. “Why does that always happen?”

“Shut up,” Alicent snapped from the other room.

“No, no, no —” Rhaenyra was breathless. “You were about to — and then the oven —”

“I wasn't about to anything.”

Alicent had barely disappeared into the kitchen before Rhaenyra — being fucking Rhaenyra — was up again, wandering, snooping, poking around the carefully curated mess of documents on the sideboard. It wasn’t even intentional at first. She was just flipping through them absently, curiosity an old and stubborn habit, until… Ah. A folder. Unnamed. Stuffed carelessly under a pile of other papers, like it had been forgotten, or maybe deliberately hidden. It was half-tucked beneath a stack of papers on the dining table, pushed to the side like Alicent had meant to deal with it later. It wasn’t labeled — just a thick, heavy file, slightly worn at the edges, something used, something important.

Rhaenyra pulled it out, frowning as she flipped it open. Her stomach dropped. Documents. Legal filings. Pages of financial records, contract terms, but most notably: 

A draft of her own fucking termination paperwork.

Rhaenyra’s breath caught. She skimmed the text, hands tightening around the edges, reading the exact conditions under which she could be let go. Breach of conduct. Failure to perform duties in a manner consistent with company expectations. Personal involvement that could be perceived as compromising professional ethics. Rhaenyra’s pulse pounded.

And then — Alicent’s voice, smooth and casual, from the kitchen. “You’re awfully quiet.” The sound of footsteps barely registered over the ringing in her ears. “Did you just hear me —” Alicent started, re-entering with a wine bottle, only to stop mid-sentence, mid-step. Her whole body tensed when she saw what Rhaenyra was holding. Rhaenyra laughed. Short. Disbelieving. Because of course Alicent had a fucking plan for this. Of course, she had already thought about it, already drawn up the documents. “What…” Then she saw what Rhaenyra was holding. Her entire body went rigid.

Rhaenyra lifted the folder slightly, expression unreadable. “You wanna explain this?”

Alicent inhaled, sharp and controlled. “Put that down.” Her grip tightened around the neck of the bottle.

“Oh, I will,” Rhaenyra said, voice deceptively light. “Right after you tell me why you have paperwork ready to fire me.”

Alicent exhaled, slow and measured, already forcing herself back into control. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Rhaenyra snapped, slamming the folder shut. “You planned this.”

“I didn’t!”

“You did, Alicent!” Rhaenyra scoffed, waving the folder slightly. “So this isn’t a fully executed termination agreement with my name on it? My mistake.”

Alicent’s jaw clenched. “It’s s tandard procedure.” Rhaenyra laughed. And this time, it wasn’t even close to amused.

“Right. Standard procedure. Just something you keep lying around in case you get bored of me?” Alicent didn’t answer. Didn’t even deny it. And that, that fucking broke something. Rhaenyra swallowed, chest rising and falling, words burning in her throat. “You really had me fooled,” she muttered, shaking her head.

Alicent exhaled harshly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It wasn’t my decision.”

“Oh, really? Because your signature is right fucking there.” Rhaenyra tossed the folder onto the table, stepping closer, fury building in her chest like a lit match.

“You don't know what you're talking about, Rhaenyra.”

“Oh, I think I do.” Rhaenyra took another step forward, closing the distance between them, eyes blazing with unbridled fury. “This was your plan all along wasn't it? You pull me in, keep me close, makes me think there's something there, and you fucking cut me off —”

“Stop.”

“And I was stupid enough to —” She stopped herself. No. No. “Forget it,” she muttered, voice suddenly hollow. She turned, grabbing her coat off the chair. “This is a fucking joke,” she muttered, turning toward the door, voice tight, hands shaking. “I’m not doing this with you. I’m done.”

Alicent blinked, like she hadn’t expected Rhaenyra to back down. “Rhaenyra…”

But Rhaenyra was already moving. She made it as far as the door before her phone vibrated. She pulled it out, already scowling, only to see the bright red weather alert flashing across the screen. SEVERE THUNDERSTORM WARNING. EXPECT DANGEROUS WINDS AND FLOODING. STAY INDOORS. Rhaenyra looked up. Outside, the wind howled against the glass. Rain lashed violently against the balcony, sheets of water obscuring the view of King's Landing. Fucking great. She exhaled sharply through her nose, pressing her lips together before turning back around. Alicent was watching her, arms crossed, expression unreadable.

“Go ahead,” she said, deadpan. “Get yourself killed on the freeway. See if I care.”

Rhaenyra clenched her jaw, stepping forward. “You are so fucking dramatic.”

Alicent scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I’m dramatic? I’m dramatic?”

“Yes, you —”

“You just tried to storm out in the middle of a —”

The wind howled. Rhaenyra wasn’t going anywhere. Not realistically. Not when the roads were a fucking death trap, when her hands were already shaking with cold, when her Uber app showed a fifty-minute wait time. Alicent knew that. Knew and said nothing.

“You lied to me!”

“I didn't lie to you!” They were yelling now. “You just don't understand —”

“Oh, fantastic.” Rhaenyra threw up her hands. “That makes everything so much better.”

Alicent’s patience visibly snapped. “I was protecting you, you idiot.”

Rhaenyra barked out a humorless laugh. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it?”

“Yes,” Alicent hissed, stepping forward. “Because unlike you, I don’t throw myself into the fire without thinking.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

They were inches apart now, voices raised, words sharp enough to cut. “I swear to the Gods, Rhaenyra, you never think, you never stop to consider —”

“You never start!”

“— and you always have to push —”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t so fucking closed off all the time —”

“Maybe if you weren’t so goddamn reckless —”

They were still yelling when it happened. It was hard to tell who kissed who, who moved first, who broke first, who let the fight tip just enough to turn into something else. But suddenly, Rhaenyra wasn't yelling anymore. Because Alicent's mouth was on hers. Or maybe her mouth was on Alicent. It didn't matter. One moment, Alicent was standing there, yelling back at her, and the next she was pressing Rhaenyra against the counter, pressing their lips together. It wasn't pretty, but Rhaenyra's mouth was just so soft and warm and everything Alicent dreamed it would be. She whimpered into Rhaenyra's mouth, uncaring when their teeth clinked. 

They crashed into it like a car wreck — violent, inevitable, a mess of hands and mouths and desperation. Alicent’s nails dug into Rhaenyra’s shoulders as she pushed her back, breath ragged, body trembling with something she refused to name. She grabbed Rhaenyra's hips, using them to push her body forward, seeking friction. “This…” She pulled away, just slightly, breathless. “Is the part where you shut up.” Rhaenyra barely had time to smirk before Alicent kissed her again, rough, messy, with a kind of fury that made her head spin. All that tension — years of it, coiled so tightly between them — snapped at once. It had to go somewhere.

Alicent's brain was still screaming at her, telling her to stop, to pull away, that this was a horrible fucking idea. That this was Rhaenyra, her employee, her father's best friend's daughter, a girl 8 years younger than her , and she really couldn't afford a scandal; but her instincts were louder. Alicent let her tongue brush against Rhaenyra's lower lip, pulling it into her mouth with a small bite. Still, her mind didn’t stop. It never did, already assessing the mess she’d made, thinking about damage control. As if sensing she was losing focus, Rhaenyra's hands left her waist, reaching up instead to grab at Alicent’s chin, holding her face where she wanted.

That little bite had been a good decision on Alicent's part if only for the way it made Rhaenyra press up further into her, sliding a firm, muscular thigh between her legs. The motion made a gasp slip out of her throat against Rhaenyra's lips, a noise that did nothing to dampen the heat in her stomach, if not only spur on the burning. Fuck, the way Rhaenyra kissed. Like she was drowning, and Alicent was the only thing keeping her afloat. The thought made her pull away just long enough to drag in some air.

“You always do this,” Rhaenyra said, starting a trail of scorching hot, open-mouthed kisses down Alicent's jaw, and she whimpered, a needy, quick little sound. “Push me away just to fucking pull me back.” Her tone was angry, resentful, and when she found the skin of Alicent's neck, she started to suck, hard, leaving hickeys behind on purpose just to prove a fucking point. The feeling made Alicent’s breath hitch, her skin prickle, and her blood sing. Rhaenyra’s lips, soft yet commanding, marking their way through her. She made a noise of protest, trying to say something, but then Rhaenyra let her teeth brush the skin there, making her gasp again, before pressing her thigh more firmly into her. “Tell me to stop.” She whispered, feverish and frantic. “Just tell me to stop.” It sounded more like a plea than a command, as if Rhaenyra couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to.

Gods, Alicent would. Everything in her was begging her to. She knew this was a mistake, she knew that this was the stupidest thing that either of them could do… but then she couldn't find her voice, not with Rhaenyra’s knee in between her thighs making it impossible to keep a clear head. And there was a part of Alicent, a dangerous part of her that wanted this. Wanted, even for only a moment, to just let her guard down, to let herself have this. Just this once. So Alicent pressed her hips down, grinding against Rhaenyra's leg, a shockwave of pleasure coursing up her core, and she tipped her head back, knocking against the cabinet, but Alicent didn't care.

Rhaenyra laughed, the sound vibrating in the space between them. Alicent was going to tell her to stop laughing at her, tell Rhaenyra to go fuck herself, but Rhaenyra's hands were at her waist then, turning her around before she could even fully register the movement. The counter's edge pressed into her stomach as Rhaenyra pushed her forward, pressing their bodies together from behind, and her mouth went back to Alicent's neck, sharp nips and soothing kisses in turn as she slid one hand under Alicent's shirt, skimming along the bare expanse of her stomach and lower. Any last shred of rationality was gone in an instant. Instead of protesting, like she knew she should be, Alicent let her body sag against the counter, upper half propped up by the elbows. And even though she couldn't see Rhaenyra's face, she could feel her. The feeling of her body pressed against hers, how Rhaenyra's mouth was marking her. And gods, the way her hand was moving across her stomach like that, so close, yet so far away from where Alicent wanted it. She let out a frustrated moan, squirming against the counter.

The moan had its intended effect, at least, and the slow, lazy kiss against Alicent's neck turned almost feral, teeth digging in a bit too hard, leving indentations on the skin, and she slid her hand lower, skimming over Alicent’s hip, before gripping it tighter and pulling her body back. The friction made her gasp, and she let her head loll to the side. Rhaenyra slithered a hand inside Alicent's shorts before she could even register what was happening and how embarrassingly wet she already was. It was all too much, and somehow not enough, and the feel of Rhaenyra's mouth on her neck, leaving marks there that Alicent would absolutely have to cover up tomorrow, the way her hips were grinding desperately against that firm, lean, body and fuck… Rhaenyra's hand inside her shorts, teasing the fabric of Alicent's underwear just above where she really wanted it, drawing lazy circles over and over.

She tried to make some semblance of a coherent thought, but her mind was too clouded by the sheer level of want to form even a single syllable. Instead, all Alicent could do was make an almost pleading sound in the back of her throat. Rhaenyra clearly wasn't faring any better, if only by the way her breath was coming out in harsh pants, hot and uneven over Alicent's neck. Rhaenyra’s hand still teases her, the lack of friction its own kind of torture. Alicent let out a whine of pure frustration. It didn't last long, however, because Rhaenyra’s index finger pressed over her clit, up and down, teasing. It wasn't the time for patience, nor the time to explore Alicent's body like Rhaenyra wanted to — she knew that this wouldn't happen again, pushing two fingers inside Alicent uncerimoniously, and she offered no resistance, her body hot and wet and desperate, and the feeling of being stretched was almost enough to make her cry. Just at the sheer solace of it all.

The action warranted a moan from the back of her throat, as Alicent lost her footing. Thankfully, the counter was there, and so was Rhaenyra, holding her firmly into place. Rhaenyra bit down into her shoulder, the noise that came from Alicent’s throat was humiliating, to say the least; and it was like Rhaenyra had been waiting for a command, setting up a brutal pace, fingers sliding in and out fast and hard, and Alicent was about to come already. Alicent reached back, using her hand to hold onto Rhaenyra’s arm, feeling the way her own wetness was running down the skin of her thighs, sticky and hot. Under any other circumstances, she would be embarrassed to be so quick, but Alicent felt like she had been teased for months, nearly a year, and she didn't really have the strength to hold it off any longer. 

It took more self control than it had any right to just keep her body standing, leaning up against that fucking countertop while her brain was rapidly losing its grip on reality. Alicent’s breath was coming out in gasps, and when Rhaenyra’s mouth left her shoulder, it took her a moment to realize it because her hearing was fading in and out.

Everything was heat, pressure, the slick slide of fingers that somehow knew exactly how to undo her. There were no words between them — just the ragged sounds of breath, the quick gasp that tore from Alicent's throat when Rhaenyra curled her fingers just right, pressing into her walls, and the low, dark chuckle against her skin that made her shiver. Alicent's grip on Rhaenyra's forearm tightened, nails digging in hard enough to draw blood, but Rhaenyra didn't stop, if anything, she doubled down, fucking into her with a pace that bordered on ruthless. Alicent couldn't think, couldn't do anything but take it, her body arching back into Rhaenyra's chest, pressing closer, desperate for more. White-hot pleasure clouding Alicent’s vision. 

Rhaenyra’s free hand roamed, slipping under Alicent’s shirt, skimming up her stomach and palming at her breast, her grip possessive, fingers teasing the nipple. She let out a sharp cry, her back arching further, pressing into the touch. She was unraveling, coming apart at the seams, the pleasure winding tighter and tighter inside her like a wire about to snap. She came fast, hard, without a warning, the crash catching her by surprise, and she made a sound that was degradingly desperate, Alicent’s entire body tensing before going lax, Rhaenyra’s arm the only thing holding her up. 

Alicent slumped forward, panting, legs shaking far more than they had any right to, and her head feeling light. She felt like she'd never come down, like she was standing on the edge of a great cliff, and Alicent forgot about everything for a moment, her muscles contracting against Rhaenyra’s fingers, body slick with a thin sheet of sweat. Rhaenyra sighed, pleased, pulling her fingers away, which warranted another moan from Alicent. She felt like crying again, now because she was feeling unberably empty, walls still pulsating inside her. She didn’t have time to catch her breath, though, before Rhaenyra turned her, lifting her onto the countertop in one swift motion, pressing her fingers into Alicent's mouth — the action felt way too obscene and too deliciously sexy. 

Her brain was too scattered to even protest, lips parting automatically. Alicent could taste herself on them, and it was enough to make her want again. 

Any irritation vanished in a moment, because Rhaenyra's lips were on Alicent’s before she could even complain, hot and messy, like she was trying to consume her whole. Alicent moaned into her mouth, wrapping her legs around Rhaenyra’s waist, pulling her closer, needing the friction, needing to feel the weight of her between her thighs. Rhaenyra’s hands found the waistband of her shorts, tugging them down with an impatience that sent another bolt of heat through Alicent’s stomach. There was no hesitation, no space for regret — just want, raw and unchecked. She let herself fall into it, into the sharp press of Rhaenyra’s teeth against her neck once more, the way her hands mapped out her skin like she was memorizing every inch.

It was a terrible idea. It was reckless and dangerous and everything she had spent years trying to avoid.

But right now, Alicent didn’t care. Right now, she needed this, needed Rhaenyra, needed to lose herself in the heat and the hunger and the way Rhaenyra was looking at her, like she was something to be devoured. Alicent reached up, tracing her fingers gently at Rhaenyra's jaw before she slowly let them slide down into the soft curves of her throat. She left her hand there for a second, feeling the rapid heartbeat beneath the pads of her fingers, letting it follow the hollow of Rhaenyra's collarbone, pushing the half-unbuttoned shirt farther open. “My bedroom.” There was a brief, panicked thought in the back of her brain that this was her paralegal, and they had to work together the next day, but that was a problem for later. Right now, Alicent was a little too preoccupied with her teeth over Rhaenyra’s pulse point, tasting the skin there.

Rhaenyra didn’t hesitate. She barely let Alicent get the words out before lifting her, arms firm around her thighs, carrying her through the darkened penthouse. Alicent only had time to grab onto her shoulders before Rhaenyra was kicking the bedroom door open, the motion sending them stumbling inside. They fell onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, Rhaenyra’s weight pressing Alicent into the mattress, knocking the breath from her lungs. She gasped, but Rhaenyra didn’t give her time to recover; her mouth was already there, lips trailing down her throat, hands sliding under the hem of her shirt, tugging it open. Alicent arched into her touch, fingers threading through silver hair, yanking sharply to pull Rhaenyra’s mouth back to hers. The kiss was messy, all teeth and open-mouthed desperation, like Rhaenyra was trying to claim her. As if she hadn’t already. As if she hadn’t been doing this for years, without even touching her. “You…” Alicent tried, but words failed her.

"Me.” Rhaenyra teased, smiling against her jaw before sinking her teeth onto Alicent's neck. She moaned, tugging at silver strands. Alicent's mind was blissfully empty as she gave into the feel of Rhaenyra's body pressed against hers, of the way strong hands traced along her stomach, taking off each piece of clothing like a puzzle, running down the expanse of her hips just to squeeze her ass. “Alicent…” Rhaenyra moaned, a soft fingertip pressing on top of Alicent’s nerves, circling her folds before entering her again, pressing up, and Alicent was coming before Rhaenyra even had the chance to do anything. 

She had every intention to stop this after the second orgasm. It all went flying out the window when Rhaenyra's tongue made work of Alicent’s clit. Instead, she was left with a strangled gasp that was nearly a shout, and Alicent's back arched from the bed, fingers tangled in the sheets, grasping at anything to keep her tethered, hips bucking against her will. Rhaenyra was still clothed, though. She was just that good in bed, and Alicent was coming for a third time without even a chance to touch her. For a moment, all she could do was lie there, trying her best not to pass out from sheer pleasure, eyes glazed over as she watched Rhaenyra climb on top of her, muscles flexed with the weight of holding herself up, lips glistening with saliva and slick, running down a pointed chin, making Alicent’s mouth water. 

It didn't last long. It was only this one time, Alicent told herself, and she wouldn't let Rhaenyra out of her bed without having a chance to touch her. And so she did, flipping them over, as her hands, still shaking from her (multiple, earth-shattering) orgasms, tugged Rhaenyra's pants down awkwardly. Her only response was a brief laugh, violet eyes amused at the sheer desperation, and Alicent shot her a look. Rhaenyra's smugness didn't last, however, because Alicent was placing a kiss on her hip, looking up with those infuriatingly beautiful brown eyes.

It was reckless. It was inevitable. Rhaenyra smirked, breathless. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Alicent dug her nails into Rhaenyra’s hips, holding her in place. “Shut up.” Rhaenyra did.

Because Alicent pulled up to kiss her, and it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t slow. It was teeth and desperation and something raw bleeding between them. Rhaenyra gasped against her mouth, and Alicent swallowed the sound, her hands moving with purpose now, stripping away the last barriers between them.

There was a voice on the back of Rhaenyra's head, that sounded annoyingly like Laena, telling her that this had gone far enough, that she was in dangerous waters, but whatever rational thought she may have was quickly losing out to her brain rapidly regaining its one-track focus on the gorgeous woman currently making a home between her thighs. So Rhaenyra did the only thing she could actually work out how to do, and that was reaching out a hand to grab a fistful of Alicent's hair, holding her head in place. Alicent had done this before, Rhaenyra found herself thinking as the CEO ran her tongue down the length of her cunt, so deliberately slow that it bordered on cruelty. There's just no way.

Alicent placed her hands on each of Rhaenyra's knees, pushing them apart so she had more room to work with, bitting down on her inner thigh, sucking it purple.

Rhaenyra tasted even better than she imagined it, Alicent thought as her tongue circled a particular spot that made Rhaenyra hiss and cuss at her. She smiled, satisfied, returning her focus on the most important thing right now: not letting Rhaenyra win this. She wanted her to crumble, just as she had done moments earlier. The sound of her own name falling from that kissed-bruised mouth as Rhaenyra crashed over the edge did things to her psyche that Alicent couldn't even begin to try to describe, Rhaenyra closing her legs as she came, squeezing Alicent’s head between her bruised thighs. She wanted to make her come again and again and again, if only to hear her name whispered like that. Wanted to feel every single inch of her, only this one time.

The sound that came from Alicent's fingers sliding inside Rhaenyra was vicious, pornographic, even, but she didn't care. She didn't have it in her anymore, no words, no teasing, nothing was left, just pure, unbridled want teetering on the edge of anger. A particular crook of her fingers had Rhaenyra seeing stars, like it would somehow satisfy the aching hunger for more that had consumed her, even when the sound of her name was still ringing in Alicent's ears. “Alicent, I'm going to…” Rhaenyra warned, voice low and somehow still measured, “Again.” She hadn't meant to say it, that desperate plea, words slipping out of her mouth before Rhaenyra even realized it, but it was definitely what she was thinking. Just moments later,  she let out a shuddering gasp that turned into a silent scream as her muscles tightened around Alicent's fingers, and Alicent swore she could have died right there at the look of satisfaction on her face.

That beautiful look, the one of pure need and desire, lips parted and swollen, and the knowledge that it was Alicent herself making Rhaenyra look like that, it made her feel drunk more than any bottle of wine ever had. Alicent couldn't remember the last time she made anyone look like that, had them looking back at her like she held their very life in her hands. It brought a certain sense of victory, even in the midst of the absolute wreckage the rest of her body was in.

The storm still raged outside, once they were done, rain hammering against the windows, wind howling through the gaps while inside, Alicent didn't know how much time had passed, hours, maybe, but it was warm. Unbearably so, as they laid in her bed, skin still slick, breaths still uneven. The sheets were tangled beneath them, twisted around their legs, bodies pressed too close, unwilling to separate just yet. Alicent lay on her back, staring at the ceiling, mind racing even as her body felt sated and exhausted. She had lost count how many times she’d come, feeling sore and thoroughly used.

Rhaenyra was next to her, loose-limbed and languid, face flushed pink, one arm draped over Alicent's waist like she fucking belonged there, fingers idly toying with a strand of her hair, twisting over and over. It should have been soothing. It wasn't. The aftershocks of what they’d just done still trembled in her bones, but Rhaenyra? Rhaenyra didn’t seem to care. Alicent could already feel the regret creeping in, a slow, choking thing settling heavily in her chest. She had let this happen. She had let Rhaenyra touch her, kiss her, fuck her. Had let herself want it, had let herself need it. Had let herself be seen, vulnerable, desperate. Her father would know. The office would know. Criston would suspect. And worst of all, Rhaenyra — Rhaenyra, who was still here, still touching her — would use this against her. Would laugh at her, mock her, ruin her.

Alicent felt sick.

The weight of Rhaenyra’s fingers in her hair, soft, lazy, unaware, made her stomach twist. Rhaenyra would leave. She always did. In all the years Alicent had known her, Rhaenyra never stuck around to mend her mistakes. She would slip out before the guilt could settle, before the weight of consequences could sink its claws in. By morning, Rhaenyra would be nothing but a ghost in Alicent’s sheets, a specter of bad decisions and bitten-off moans, and Alicent would be left alone to pick up the pieces. Alone. Alicent closed her eyes. She didn’t move. She didn’t push Rhaenyra’s hand away. She didn’t say anything. She just laid there, listening to the rain, feeling the inevitable creeping closer. The room was dark, save for the occasional flash of lightning that illuminated the wreckage, the torn sheets, the scattered clothes, the ruined look in Alicent’s eyes. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Rhaenyra murmured, voice thick with exhaustion. Knowing. She always knew. Alicent hated that she knew.

Alicent swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay still, to keep her breathing even, to pretend like she hadn’t been caught. Rhaenyra was always catching her. She should have pulled away. Should have turned onto her side, should have put distance between them before it was too late — before it had already happened. But Rhaenyra was still toying with her hair, slow and thoughtless, and Alicent was still letting her. The storm raged outside, relentless, the wind rattling the glass, rain streaking down the windows in frantic, desperate rivulets. The room was too dark, too quiet, save for the sound of their breathing, the soft rustle of sheets when Rhaenyra shifted against her.

“This was a mistake.”

Rhaenyra exhaled, a small huff of amusement against her shoulder. “Fine,” she murmured, voice laced with something teasing, something knowing. “I’ll let you pretend you’re not losing your mind over this.” Alicent stiffened. She only laughed, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, too soft for what they were, too gentle for what this was. “Go to sleep, Alicent.”

Sleep should have been impossible. The guilt should have been suffocating, but the bed was warm, and Rhaenyra was there, and Alicent was so, so, tired. She would have to deal with this in the morning, but right now, Alicent just closed her eyes and pretended it would last.

Chapter Text

Alicent didn’t come to work.

Rhaenyra almost didn’t notice at first. She had arrived late, as usual, half-distracted, still shaking off the lingering exhaustion from the absolute disaster that was last night. She was still trying to convince herself that none of it mattered, that it wasn’t sitting in her chest like a fucking bruise. So Rhaenyra got busy, threw herself head first into drafting a contract with their newest writer, drank enough coffee to give a horse a heart attack, revised a few terms documents that she had been putting off for a week; but the morning dragged on. Time stayed still, and no matter just how much work Rhaenyra got done, or just how much she tried to drown herself in a paper cup full of coffee, Alicent’s office stayed dark. No clipped instructions over email. No sharp-tongued remarks in passing. No presence at all. It wasn’t until Rhaenyra made an offhand joke about it — something to Larys, something snide and lazy, Wow, did she finally drop dead from stress? — that she got an answer.

Alicent had called in sick.

She never did that. Not once in the entire time has Rhaenyra worked here.

Alicent Hightower could be coughing up a lung, running a fever, on the verge of collapse, and she would still show up in a pristine outfit and glare at anyone who dared suggest she should go home. But today… today, she wasn’t here. Rhaenyra tapped her fingers against the desk, brows furrowing, lips pressing into a thin line. She shouldn’t care.

Last night had been a mistake, after all. Rhaenyra didn’t mean it to happen, she truly didn’t. But Rhaenyra Targaryen also didn’t know when to stop pushing. And it wasn’t like she was in love with Alicent Hightower (she was, for as long as she remembered), because it would be absolutely insane. They danced around it for a long time, this attraction that had settled in between them ever since Rhaenyra got back from law school; ever since things truly changed. Because Rhaenyra always felt it, Alicent didn’t. Until she did. They just needed to get it out of their systems, right? That’s all there is.

So Rhaenyra shouldn’t feel this… this unease.

This sinking, twisting thing in her gut. But she did. And she hated it. Because it wasn’t fine, and it wasn’t just physical. Not when Rhaenyra could still feel the ghost of Alicent’s lips on hers, her neck, her collarbone, her body. Not when the face Alicent makes when she’s about to orgasm — the tight brow, the flushed cheeks, the perfect little moan she does just before coming — was so deeply engraved into Rhaenyra’s brain she might as well forget everything else. Because it fucking haunted her. Whenever Rhaenyra closed her eyes, she could see it, perfectly, hear the way Alicent Hightower moaned her name. 

Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra.

She pulled out her phone, stared at the screen for a long moment, then —

Rhaenyra: did you actually drop dead, or…?

No response. She chewed the inside of her cheek, then typed again.

Rhaenyra: not that I care, obviously. just wondering if I should start looting your office.

Still nothing.

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, tossing her phone onto her desk. Fine. If Alicent wanted to disappear, she wouldn’t fucking stop her. Except… except it wasn’t normal. And it wasn’t fine. And no matter how much Rhaenyra told herself to let it go, she couldn’t. And by noon, Rhaenyra had officially given up pretending she wasn’t thinking about it. She spent the better part of the day distracting herself — burying her head in paperwork, picking unnecessary fights with Larys (if Alicent isn’t here, does that mean you’re in charge? Gods, we’re all doomed), stopped by Laena’s office, even making a completely useless trip to the break room just to loiter. None of it helped. Because every time she glanced toward Alicent’s office, it was still dark. Still empty. And it was wrong.

It felt wrong.

It was one thing for Alicent to be cold, distant, cruel — those were things Rhaenyra knew, understood, welcomed, even. But this? Alicent disappearing? Not responding to texts? Not being here? It irked Rhaenyra deeply, filling her with an odd sense of dread, settling somewhere in between her heart and her gut. She exhaled sharply, swallowing the lump in her throat and running a hand through her hair. Then she breathed in, deeply, feeling electric static climbing up her arms. This was ridiculous. Alicent wasn’t her problem.

She was a grown woman, more than capable of handling herself. If she needed anything, she’d have someone — Hightower people, competent people, people who weren’t Rhaenyra — to check on her. So what if they fucked? People do it all the time, especially when two people are forced to spend all day together, locked inside an office large enough to be oppressing. It didn’t matter (or at least it wasn’t supposed to matter). Alicent wasn’t Rhaenyra’s responsibility. And yet it felt like it.

Rhaenyra: you know, it’s reckless to leave me unsupervised. what if I commit fraud?

Still nothing. Rhaenyra scowled.

Okay.

She wasn’t going to sit here like some desperate idiot waiting for a response. She had other things to do. Like work. 

Or, apparently, walking straight to Alicent’s office and pushing the door open before she could stop herself. It was dark inside. Silent. The curtains were drawn down. Untouched. Rhaenyra stood in the doorway, hands shoved in her pockets, lips pressing into a thin line. This was laughable. She should leave. But instead — Rhaenyra stepped inside. The office smelled like her. Like amber and something faintly floral, something annoyingly expensive that lingered in Rhaenyra’s head far longer than it should have. The desk was still neat, except for a single pen left out of place, lying beside an empty coffee cup. Alicent’s blazer was draped over the back of her chair like she had meant to grab it on the way out but forgot. Rhaenyra shifted on her heels, deep violet eyes roaming aimlessly around the room, taking note of every little thing that showed Alicent had been there. 

Rhaenyra swallowed. This was stupid. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be —

Her phone buzzed.

She yanked it out, breath catching for half a second before she realized that it wasn’t Alicent. Just another goddamn work email that had nothing to do with it. Rhaenyra frowned, shoving her phone back into her pocket, exhaling through her nose. The paralegal closed her eyes for a second, reevaluating the entire situation. She opened them again. Then left. But not without one last glance at the empty chair, the untouched desk, the space where Alicent should be as if she could will her back, louring and berating Rhaenyra for something she definitely deserved. And for some stupid fucking reason, the unease didn’t leave with her.

Rhaenyra went home. The ride back to her family’s estate was nothing short of torturous. She didn’t bother turning on the radio, didn’t bother saying hi to Syrax (which she later felt awful about it because Syrax was just a little baby, even if the cat was twelve years old), didn’t bother showering or taking off her makeup, and Rhaenyra most certainly didn’t bother checking her phone, dropping onto her bed with a tired sigh after stripping off her clothes. She tossed. She turned. She stared at the ceiling, at the car lazily sleeping beside her, at the red glow of the clock on her nightstand, at anything that wasn’t the inside of her own fucking head.

She told herself to let it go.

To stop thinking about it. To stop feeling it. The absence. The silence. The emptiness where Alicent should be. She tried to sleep. She didn’t. Something real fucking close to regret gnawing at her brain. But Rhaenyra didn’t do regret. Though this was the closest she’d ever come to it. And when morning reached her — when Rhaenyra walked into the office, dark circles under her eyes, coffee burning the inside of her throat — Alicent still wasn’t there. Rhaenyra stopped dead in the doorway, blinking like maybe she had imagined it. Like maybe yesterday had been some weird fucking glitch in the universe, and today, things would go back to normal. But they hadn’t. Alicent’s office was still dark. Still empty. Still wrong. Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, marching to her desk, tossing her bag onto the chair, not even pretending to work as she reached for her phone.

Nothing. No emails. No missed calls. No fucking response. Her fingers twitched over the keyboard.

Rhaenyra: kay. this is getting weird now.

She waited.

Watched the screen.

Nothing.

Rhawnyra scoffed, jaw clenching. Fine.

If Alicent wanted to disappear, if she wanted to ignore her, if she wanted to act like the thing they tried so hard to avoid happening hadn’t happened, then fine. But Rhaenyra wasn’t going to sit here, waiting like she always did. She was going to do something about it. Because this wasn’t normal. And the feeling sitting heavy in her chest, the one that had been sitting on her shoulders and gnawing at her brain since yesterday, wasn’t going anywhere. Rhaenyra was not going to obsess over this. She wasn’t.

Except… she was, because Alicent still wasn’t here. And that meant something. Because Alicent Hightower was many things — calculating, severe, cold as fucking steel — but unreliable was never one of them. She showed up. Always. No matter what. And now, two days in a row, she hadn’t. And that? That was wrong. That was worse than wrong. That was pressing into Rhaenyra’s chest like a weight, clawing up her throat, making her fingers twitch every time she reached for her phone. She told herself to let it go. She told herself this wasn’t her problem. That it didn’t matter. That the fact she hadn’t slept last night had nothing to do with the fact that Alicent wasn’t answering her, that it wasn’t because of the way the bed felt too big, too empty, too cold without someone else in it.

That it wasn’t because she had never been able to stop chasing after Alicent Hightower, even when they were kids. That she wasn’t still doing it. Except she was. Because her phone was in her hand again. Because she was staring at her last text, at the read receipt that never appeared, at the lack of response that was so much louder than anything Alicent could have actually said. Because she felt it now — something twisting and clawing inside her, something sharp and aching, something that had Rhaenyra tapping her fingers against the desk. Then her knee started bouncing. Then she was running a hand through her hair, tugging at the roots, biting the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. Then the weight of it hit. The sudden, crushing realization that maybe — maybe she had actually fucked up.

Big.

Huge.

Because this wasn’t like their other fights. It wasn’t like the snide remarks in meetings, the loaded glares across conference tables, the sharp insults thrown back and forth like a game of knives. It wasn’t even like the messier things — when Rhaenyra almost kissed her at the gala, and Alicent retaliated against her. Because this time, Alicent left. For two days. With no explanation. No call. No text. No biting remark about Rhaenyra’s incompetence. Nothing. And that wasn’t Alicent. Alicent held grudges. Alicent fought. Alicent fucking engaged. She didn’t disappear.

Unless Rhaenyra had actually pushed her too far. Her stomach twisted. This was getting repetitive. Rhaenyra was spiraling on and on for two consecutive days now. She needed help — help that came in the form of Laena Velaryon. So she pulled out her phone.

Rhaenyra: emergency. meet me at The Tide after work.

Barely a minute passed, Laena replied.

Laena: define emergency

Rhaenyra: catastrophic levels of psychological distress.

Laena: what did u do

Rhaenyra: why do you assume I did something?

Laena: because it’s u

Rhaenyra: rude.

Laena: correct now spill

Rhaenyra: in person.

Laena: so it’s that bad

Rhaenyra: it’s worse.

The Tide was exactly the kind of place that suited them — dimly lit, effortlessly cool, and just the right amount of too expensive to keep out anyone who didn’t belong. The bar itself stretched long against the back wall, polished mahogany glinting under the warm glow of hanging brass fixtures. Bottles lined the shelves in neat, color-coded rows, their labels illuminated in amber light. The air smelled like aged whiskey, citrus peel, and the faintest trace of salt from the ocean breeze that slipped in through the open terrace doors. The music was always low, a murmur of blues and old jazz that never overpowered conversation. The crowd was the usual mix — corporate types nursing end-of-day drinks, old-money regulars pretending they weren’t old money, and a scattering of couples tucked into booths just private enough to encourage bad decisions. 

Laena was already side-eyeing her the second she slid into their usual booth.

“I don’t like that face,” she said, propping her chin on her hand. “That’s your ‘I’ve done something incredibly stupid but won’t admit it yet’ face.”

Rhaenyra groaned, dropping her head against the table.

“That bad?”

Rhaenyra lifted her head just enough to glare. “Laena, I fucked up.”

Laena took a slow sip of her overly sweet cocktail, completely unbothered. “Yeah, I got that part.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair. She was doing this. Rhaenyra needed to tell someone or else she might explode. Laena leaned back against the booth, draping an arm over the backrest like she was settling in for the best kind of entertainment. Her lips curled, dark eyes alight with a near-predatory sort of glee, like a shark catching the scent of blood in the water.  “Alicent.” Rhaenyra confessed. “I don’t —” She cut herself off, shaking her head. “I don’t even know how it happened. One second we were fighting — like, really fighting — and then the next —”

Laena’s brows lifted. “Oh,” she said, leaning in. “Oh, you fucked up.” When Rhaenyra let out a strangled noise and thunked her forehead against the table, Laena only smirked harder, biting down on the edge of her straw to keep from outright cackling. “No, no, no — go on, keep talking, I love this.”

Rhaenyra lifted her head again, pointing a very serious finger at her. “This is a crisis, Leana.”

“Oh, is it?” Laena took another sip. “Or is it the most obvious outcome of your deeply unresolved sexual tension?”

Rhaenyra groaned. “Shut up.”

“I won’t.” Laena grinned. “How was it?”

She blinked. “I hate you.”

Laena smirked. “I bet it was good.”

Rhaenyra threw her hands up. “That’s not the fucking point —”

Laena laughed, tipping her head back. “You’re actually spiraling.”

“I am spiraling!” Rhaenyra hissed, leaning forward. “She called it a mistake, Laena. A mistake.”

Laena hummed, swirling her drink. “And how do you feel about it?” Rhaenyra scowled. Laena arched a brow. “Mm. Thought so.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, dragging her hands down her face. “She called in sick today.”

Laena frowned. “Alicent?”

“She never calls in sick.”

Laena tilted her head. “And you care.” Rhaenyra hesitated. “Oh, babe.”

Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed in despair. “Don’t ‘babe’ me.”

“You like her.”

“I do not.” Laena gave her a look. Rhaenyra shifted, avoiding eye contact. “I hate her.”

Laena took another slow sip of her drink. “Right.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, head falling back against the booth. “This is a disaster.”

Laena grinned. “No, this is hilarious.”

Rhaenyra groaned again, rubbing at her temples. “Why do I even talk to you?”

Laena smirked. “Because I’m the only person who won’t let you lie to yourself.”

Rhaenyra whined. Laena took a victorious sip of her drink. And, despite everything, Rhaenyra felt just a little bit lighter.

“It was good.” Rhaenyra admitted, as if she was embarrassed.

Laena grinned. “Oh, this just keeps getting better.”

Rhaenyra groaned, dragging a hand down her face. “I’m not doing this with you.”

“No, no, no —” Laena leaned in, eyes gleaming, utterly delighted. “You are doing this with me. You’re sitting here, on our table, on our usual bar, spilling your pathetic little lesbian heart out.”

“I hate you.” She repeated.

Laena rested her chin in her hand, smug as ever. “So, you were saying?”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, looking around the bar as if considering an escape route. Then, reluctantly, like it physically pained her — “It was good.” Rhaenyra repeated. Laena’s brows lifted. Rhaenyra immediately held up a hand, like she needed to brace herself for impact. “Like… I didn’t think —” She hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. “You’d presume she doesn’t know her way around things, because, look at her. But…”

Laena leaned in. “But?” Rhaenyra swallowed. Laena’s grin widened. “Oh, you’re ashamed.”

“I am not.”

“You are! Oh gods, you —” Laena burst into laughter, throwing her head back once again. “You got wrecked by Alicent Hightower and now you don’t know how to cope.”

Rhaenyra’s eye twitched.

Rhaenyra crossed her arms, staring furiously at the table. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, sure.” Laena snorted, sipping her drink. “It’s just casual, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that’s why you’re here, spiraling.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply. Laena grinned. “I’m leaving,” Rhaenyra announced, making no move to actually leave.

“You love her.”

Rhaenyra visibly flinched.

Laena nearly cackled. “Oh, babe, you’re so fucked.” Rhaenyra groaned, slumping further. And for the first time since last night, she knew Laena was right. “How many times?” Laena pressed. “A rough estimate.” She was SO invested in this. 

Rhaenyra groaned, dropping her head onto the table with a dull thud. “Laena.”

“No, no, no.” Laena leaned in, practically vibrating with excitement. “You don’t get to be all mysterious and brooding about this. You have to tell me things.”

“I don’t.”

“How many times? A rough estimate.” Laena’s grin was downright evil. Rhaenyra’s entire body went stiff. Rhaenyra took a very long sip of Laena’s cocktail. Laena smacked the table. “Oh my gods, you’re avoiding the question.”

Rhaenyra set the glass down, exhaling slowly. “I hate you.” She repeated for the hundredth time.

“You keep saying that, and yet here you are, spilling your sins to me.”

Rhaenyra groaned, scrubbing a hand down her face. “I don’t know. A few times.”

Laena howled. “A few? Oh, babe, you got fucking ruined.”

Rhaenyra shoved Laena’s arm. “Shut up.”

Laena wiped away fake tears, still grinning. “This is so good. This is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“You weren’t there,” Rhaenyra muttered, suddenly very interested in the condensation on the glass in front of her.

“No, but I wish I was.” Laena smirked. “Not to join, obviously. Just to witness history.”

“I need new friends.”

“You need a round two.”

Rhaenyra glared. “Not happening.”

Laena tilted her head. “Oh, babe.” She leaned in, voice smooth, smug. “I give it a week.”

She swallowed. Laena just smirked. Rhaenyra paused, eyes lost. “Why did we break up? You and I.” She asked, tone suddenly shifting. “We’re clearly great together, so why didn’t things work out?” Laena knew what she was doing, Rhaenyra was assessing damage, looking for a reason to blame herself.

Laena’s smirk softened. She leaned back against the booth, twirling the straw in her drink, watching Rhaenyra watch herself.

Ah.

So that’s what this was.

“You’re not actually asking about us,” Laena murmured. Rhaenyra didn’t deny it. Didn’t say anything at all. Just sat there, fingers curled around the rim of her stolen drink, eyes distant, searching. Assessing the damage. Looking for a reason to blame herself. Laena sighed, tilting her head. “You want the real answer?” Rhaenyra nodded, slow. Laena exhaled, setting her drink down with a quiet clink. “Because we were too easy.”

Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“You and me,” Laena said, gesturing vaguely between them. “We worked because we never fought for it. It was simple. No angst, no mind games, no — you know —” She rolled her wrist in the air, searching for the right words. “— unresolved psychosexual warfare.”

Rhaenyra scoffed, shaking her head. “Fuck you.”

Laena smirked. “Oh, please — you think I don’t know exactly what this is?” Rhaenyra tensed. Laena hummed, tapping a thoughtful finger against the table. “You don’t do simple, babe. You never have. You only want things that hurt.”

Rhaenyra inhaled, sharp and slow. “That’s not…”

“Not true?” Laena arched a brow. “Because from where I’m sitting, you just had insane, wall-shaking hate sex with Alicent Hightower — emotionally constipated Alicent Hightower, the one person in this world who could actually kill you with a single email — and instead of accepting that you want her, you’re here, trying to psychoanalyze yourself into thinking you’re fundamentally unlovable.”

Silence.

Thick, suffocating. Rhaenyra’s fingers twitched against the glass.

Laena let out a breath, voice softer now. “It wasn’t your fault, Nyra.”

Rhaenyra swallowed. And Laena — who had known her too fucking long, who had loved her like that once — could see it in her eyes. She didn’t believe her. Not really. Not yet. So Laena just sighed, knocking back the rest of her drink before leaning forward again, smirk slipping back into place. “But if it helps…” Rhaenyra blinked, suddenly wary. Laena grinned. “You were terrible in bed.”

Rhaenyra gasped.

“Oh, fuck you!”

Laena cackled, tipping her head back, and just like that, the moment was gone. Or maybe… Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it just settled somewhere quieter. Somewhere Rhaenyra wasn’t ready to look.

Yet.

It was only two days later when Alicent showed up.

The office was the same as it always was — cold, sterile, impersonal. A far cry from the warmth of Alicent’s sheets, from the scratch of her nails down Rhaenyra’s back, from the way she had sounded, wrecked and desperate, breath hot against Rhaenyra’s throat as she —

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, shoving her hands into her pockets as the door to Alicent’s office swung open. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Frozen stiff, pressed under the weight of it all. Alicent looked... well, terrible. For someone as put-together as she always insisted on being, it was almost shocking to see her like this. Dark circles under her eyes, hair a little less precise than usual, fingers curled tight around the folder she was holding, like if she let go, she might just collapse in on herself entirely. Rhaenyra, for her part, had no idea how to act. Because, truly, what was she supposed to say?

Hi, sorry I fucked you against your kitchen counter, it was great, actually, and now I can’t stop thinking about it? Maybe. Oh, hey, long time no see since I was knuckles deep inside you. Care to stop ignoring me?

Yeah. No.

“You’re alive,” Rhaenyra said instead, leaning against the doorframe. “Shocking.”

Alicent blinked at her. “What?”

“Well, I assumed you must be dead. You weren’t at work for two days, and you didn’t respond to my texts.” Rhaenyra tilted her head. “Or maybe you just lost your phone? Or your thumbs?”

“I was sick.”

“Oh?” Rhaenyra lifted a brow. “Tragic timing, really. Right after —”

“Don’t.” Alicent cut her off, voice tight. She dropped the folder onto her desk, fixing her with a look that was probably meant to be intimidating but mostly just made Rhaenyra want to push her buttons even more. “This isn’t…”

“Isn’t what?” Rhaenyra asked. “Something we’re allowed to acknowledge? You seemed very willing to acknowledge it at the time.”

Alicent inhaled sharply through her nose, jaw clenching. “I don’t want to talk about this here.”

“Not here, not over text. Where, then?” Rhaenyra stepped further into the office, lowering her voice just slightly. “Your place again?”

Alicent looked like she wanted to strangle her. Or herself. Or both. She exhaled, dragging a hand over her face. “Rhaenyra.”

There was something almost pleading in the way she said it. But Rhaenyra wasn’t feeling particularly generous. Not after being ignored for two fucking days. Not after being left in her own head with the memory of Alicent like that, only to be met with silence.

Still, she decided to be merciful.

For now.

“Don’t worry. I’ll give you some time to figure out how to pretend this never happened.”

“Do you need something?”

“Wouldn’t say need.” Rhaenyra took a step forward. “But you did ghost me, so I figured I’d check if you were dead. You know, out of professional courtesy.”

Alicent finally looked up, and there it was — that look. That infuriated, tight-lipped, I’d-strangle-you-if-it-wouldn’t-make-a-scene look that Rhaenyra found entirely too fun to provoke. “I wasn’t aware we had a texting relationship,” she said flatly.

“Oh, we don’t,” Rhaenyra said, strolling closer, watching the way Alicent stiffened with every step. “But it’s common practice to acknowledge someone after you — what’s the word? Ruin them? Destroy them? Render them —”

Alicent inhaled sharply. “Get to the point.”

“The point,” Rhaenyra mused, planting her hands on the edge of Alicent’s desk and leaning in, “is that you left quite the impression, boss.” She let the word roll off her tongue, eyes flickering down just to see the way Alicent’s throat bobbed. “Didn’t peg you for the type.”

Alicent’s jaw tightened. “Neither did I.”

“So you admit it.”

“I admit nothing.” Alicent pushed her chair back and stood so abruptly that Rhaenyra nearly laughed. Nearly. Because there was something else underneath that rigid posture. A certain avoidance, the way Alicent wouldn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Oh, that bad, huh?” Rhaenyra teased, head tilting. “I really must’ve rocked your world.”

Alicent let out a sharp breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet…” Rhaenyra stepped even closer, until they were nearly chest to chest, voice dipping to something lower, smoother. “I’m the one who got left on read.”

Alicent exhaled through her teeth, stepping back, retreating. It should’ve been a victory, but something about it left Rhaenyra unsatisfied. “I was busy,” Alicent said, far too fast, far too defensive.

“Oh, of course,” Rhaenyra nodded mock-seriously. “Too busy to reply. Too busy to show up to work. Too busy to face me.”

Alicent’s nostrils flared. “It was a mistake.”

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “A very talented mistake.”

She closed her eyes, looking like she wanted to scream. Or possibly hurl herself out the window. “I don’t have time for this,” Alicent muttered, grabbing a folder like it was a weapon, as if it could shield her from this conversation.

Rhaenyra smirked. “Bet you had time for it two nights ago.”

Alicent dropped the folder. Rhaenyra grinned.

It was so easy. Too easy. And yet, watching the way Alicent’s face burned, the way she shifted like she wanted to be anywhere else, Rhaenyra felt something like frustration curl in her stomach. Because what now? Where did this leave them?

Alicent picked up her folder with a harsh breath. “We are not talking about this.”

Rhaenyra shrugged. “We’re already talking about it.”

Alicent ignored her. Walked to her desk. Sat down. Picked up a pen. “Go back to work.”

Rhaenyra didn’t move. Alicent tapped the pen against the desk. Rhaenyra still didn’t move. Alicent set the pen down. Stared at her. Rhaenyra smirked. Alicent’s response was to open an email and start typing, gaze fixed on the screen. She should have left at that. Should let Alicent simmer down, recalibrate, bring her walls back up just enough to feel comfortable again. But she didn't. Rhaenyra just had to ask. “Was I the first?” She said, hands fidgeting, suddenly nervous. “The first woman, I mean, I know you were married but I felt like you knew your way around the area pretty well —“

“I went to an all-girls boarding school, Rhaenyra.” Alicent replied, tight-lipped. “That’s all I’m going to say about that.” Rhaenyra blinked. Then blinked again. Then, entirely against her will, her lips curled into an incredulous grin. Alicent scowled. “Don’t.”

“Oh, but I must.” Rhaenyra leaned forward, eyes alight with mischief. “Alicent Hightower. Miss Valedictorian. Miss Perfect Prefect. You —” she pointed, delighted — “you got up to boarding school things?” Alicent sighed like she was re-evaluating every choice that had led her to this moment. Rhaenyra gasped theatrically, hand on her chest. “Was it a teacher?”

“Gods, no,” Alicent muttered, rubbing her temples.

“A fellow student, then.” Rhaenyra tapped her chin, thoughtful. “Let me guess—blonde, sporty, captain of the polo team.”

“I’m not dignifying this.”

“Oh, come on. This is huge.” Rhaenyra sat on the edge of Alicent’s desk, entirely ignoring the way Alicent looked like she wanted to kick her off. “What was her name?” Alicent stared, unimpressed. “Okay, names, plural.” Rhaenyra wiggled her eyebrows. “Were you a player, Hightower?”

“This conversation is over.”

“You were the one who said it,” Rhaenyra pointed out, grinning.

“I was coerced.”

“Slipped right out, didn’t it?” Alicent’s glare was murderous. Rhaenyra, ever insufferable, only smirked wider. “Hightower, you dog.”

“I bet you have more bodies than I do.” Alicent said, completely unprovoked.

Rhaenyra’s eyebrows shot up. “Excuse me?”

Alicent leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying. You’re —” she waved vaguely in Rhaenyra’s direction, “— you. And I’ve been married. I bet you have more bodies than I do.”

Rhaenyra let out a delighted, almost scandalized laugh. “Alicent, are you comparing kill counts right now?”

Alicent, remarkably unfazed, arched an eyebrow. “You brought it up.”

“I brought up your boarding school lesbianism, not…” Rhaenyra huffed, shaking her head. “I can’t believe you just said that. You, of all people. Prim, proper, buttoned-up Alicent.” She leaned in, grinning. “What’s next? Are you gonna ask if it was good for me?”

Alicent’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “I don’t need to ask.”

Rhaenyra shut her mouth so fast her teeth clacked. Alicent smirked. Rhaenyra pointed an accusing finger. “I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”

Alicent tilted her head, mock-innocent. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re smug.” Rhaenyra made a dramatic show of rubbing her arms. “It’s unnatural. It's giving me whiplash.”

Alicent, still unbearably composed, adjusted the cuff of her blouse. “It’s quite simple, really. I have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from the woman who ghosted me for two days.” Alicent’s smirk disappeared instantly. Rhaenyra grinned, slow and sharp. “Oh, that’s right. You ran.”

“I did not —”

“You fled.”

Alicent scowled. “I needed time to think.”

“About what?” Rhaenyra leaned forward, enjoying herself far too much. Alicent’s eyes flicked to the side, jaw tight. Rhaenyra bit her lip. “You regret it.”

Alicent opened her mouth, then closed it. Did she? Alicent wanted to, but that’s the closest she got to regretting. Rhaenyra had expected her to snap back, to deny it, to say of course I regret it, but she didn’t. And that, more than anything, made Rhaenyra’s stomach twist. But she wouldn’t let it get to her.

“It can’t happen again.” She said, looking up. “It won’t happen again. There’s too much at play here, and I can’t be thinking with my… well, it was a mistake.”

Rhaenyra exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down her face. “You hesitated.”

Alicent frowned. “What?”

“When you said, I can’t be thinking with my…” Rhaenyra mimicked, voice high and proper, “Well, you hesitated.” She smirked. “Go on. Say it. Which part of your body were you thinking with, exactly?”

Alicent’s expression was flat. “Do you ever take anything seriously?”

“Not when you’re handing me golden opportunities like this,” Rhaenyra said, grinning. “Come on, humor me. What exactly were you thinking with?”

Alicent gave her a look so withering it could’ve burned through steel. “I will not dignify that with a response.”

“Oh, I think you just did.” She propped her chin on her hand, delighted. “Your silence speaks volumes.”

Alicent inhaled deeply, visibly restraining herself. “This is exactly why it can’t happen again.”

“Because I’m having fun?”

“Because you don’t take things seriously!”

Rhaenyra’s smirk wavered, just slightly. Alicent sighed, rubbing her temples. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you let me fuck you against your kitchen counter,” Rhaenyra mused. “Curious.”

Alicent turned red. “Oh, by the Seven!”

“I mean, it wasn’t just the counter, was it? There was also the bed, and then somehow the —”

Alicent shot to her feet so fast her chair nearly toppled over. “This conversation is over.”

Rhaenyra, unfazed, leaned back with a smirk. “Sure. But I still think you hesitated. Was it your heart, Alicent?” She clutched her chest dramatically. “Were you thinking with your feelings?”

“Go to hell, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “I’ll see you there.”

Alicent tossed a manuscript against the wall — she had originally aimed at Rhaenyra’s head, but luckily Alicent was a terrible shot. “That was uncalled for,” Rhaenyra said, barely dodging the manuscript as it smacked against the wall behind her. She turned back with a lazy grin. “Though, I am flattered that your first instinct was violence. It means you’re thinking of me.”

“I was thinking about hitting you.”

“Still counts.”

Alicent looked like she was physically restraining herself from launching something heavier. “Why are you like this?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Rhaenyra said, crossing her arms. “Two days of radio silence, and now you’re throwing literature at me? I thought we had something special.”

Alicent’s eye twitched. “We had a mistake.”

“A memorable mistake,” Rhaenyra corrected. “A mistake that, dare I say, rocked your world —” Alicent grabbed a stapler. Rhaenyra took a cautious step back, hands raised. “Okay, okay, let’s not escalate to office supplies.”

Alicent exhaled sharply and set the stapler down with what looked like considerable effort. “Rhaenyra, I need you to listen to me. This —” She gestured between them. “— cannot happen again. It won’t happen again.”

“You already said that,” Rhaenyra pointed out. “Twice now. But the fact that you keep repeating it makes me think you’re the one who needs convincing.”

Alicent’s jaw tightened.

Rhaenyra smirked. “Got you there, didn’t I?”

“I’m serious, Rhaenyra.”

“So am I.” Rhaenyra took a step closer, lowering her voice. “If it was just a mistake, why haven’t you been able to look me in the eye since you walked in here?”

Alicent’s gaze flicked to hers for a fraction of a second before darting away.

Rhaenyra grinned. “See? You hesitated again.”

Alicent pinched the bridge of her nose like she was in physical pain. “I am begging you to be serious for one second.”

Rhaenyra tapped a finger against her chin, pretending to consider. “Mmm… no.”

Alicent groaned. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” Rhaenyra said easily. “You wish you did.”

"For once in your goddamned life use your brain! Have you not understood what's at stake here? If people found out? Statutory would be the least of my worries." Rhaenyra’s smirk vanished. Alicent exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. “I shouldn’t have said that.” There's a pause. "But it's the truth. I'm your boss, I'm older, you're only twenty-four, barely out of law school, what do you think the board will do, huh?"

Rhaenyra was quiet for a beat. Then, slowly, she said, “First of all, I’m twenty-five. My birthday was last month, you were there.”  

Alicent looked up, exasperated. “That is not the point.”

“Second,” Rhaenyra continued, unbothered, “I graduated top of my class, with honors, and have been working here for a year. I’m not some clueless intern you lured into your office with candy and ‘helpful career advice’.”

Alicent cringed. “Gods, would you shut up?”

“Third,” Rhaenyra pressed on, stepping forward, “do you really think anyone would believe I was some helpless victim? Me? Rhaenyra Targaryen?” She raised an eyebrow. 

Alicent’s lips twitched, but she pressed them together like she was physically restraining herself from acknowledging it. “Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra ignored the warning in her tone. “You’re acting like you preyed on some poor, impressionable girl. Like I didn’t actively want this — like I didn’t crawl into your bed and —”

Alicent pointed a sharp finger at her. “Not another word.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “Begged for it, actually.”

Alicent closed her eyes, inhaled deeply through her nose, and exhaled in what sounded suspiciously like a prayer for strength. “You are the most grading person I’ve ever met.”

Rhaenyra shrugged. “And yet, you let me fuck you.”

Alicent made a choked sound, somewhere between outrage and despair, and turned sharply on her heel like she was about to march out of her office altogether. “I have a meeting, excuse me.” Leaving was the best option. Either that or actually pushing Rhaenyra out the fucking window.

But before she could, Rhaenyra caught her wrist, letting her thumb rub over Alicent’s pulse point. “Hey,” she said, quieter now, the teasing edge softened. “You’re spiraling.”

Alicent shook her off immediately, but she didn’t move away, pressing a hand to her forehead, exhaling sharply. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me,” Rhaenyra said. “Because right now, all I’m hearing is that you regret it, and that’s fine, Alicent. I won’t push. But if you’re just panicking over optics —”

Alicent scoffed, dropping her hand. “Optics? You think I’m worried about my reputation?”

“Well, yeah.” Rhaenyra gave a pointed look. “You do have one of those, you know. It’s very shiny and pristine. Very I'd-never-fuck-Rhaenyra-Targaryen-y.”

Alicent groaned, covering her face with both hands. “I should have fired you months ago.”

“But then you wouldn’t get to experience the unparalleled joy of my company,” Rhaenyra said. “And let’s be honest, that would be a tragedy for both of us.”

Alicent dropped her hands and gave her a flat, unimpressed look. “You are impossible.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “However —”

“Finish that sentence and I will fire you.” Empty threats. Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, but the smile never fully disappeared. Alicent sighed, her shoulders finally slumping. She looked tired, and for the first time, Rhaenyra felt a pang of guilt beneath all the teasing.

Quietly, she said, “We don’t have to make this a thing, you know.”

Alicent glanced at her, wary. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Rhaenyra shrugged, “if you really want to pretend it never happened, I can do that. We can go back to normal.”

Alicent studied her for a long moment, and Rhaenyra held her gaze, keeping her expression light, unaffected. She was a good liar when she wanted to be. Normal. The word bounced inside Alicent’s brain. What did normal mean for them? Alicent’s cutting words, Rhaenyra’s teasing remarks, pushing her buttons until Alicent exploded on her? She didn’t know if they could do it. Who knew that fucking someone could bring a certain… fondness for them. And being fond of Rhaenyra Targaryen was the worst feeling to ever grace Alicent’s life. So, realistically, it would be best to go back to their old normal.

Eventually, Alicent exhaled. “Good,” she said, straightening. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

She turned to leave again. This time, Rhaenyra didn’t stop her. But just before Alicent reached the door, she paused, her fingers tightening on the handle. Without looking back, she said, “And for the record… you’re not the only one who was impressed.”

She walked out after that.

Rhaenyra stared after her, blinking. Then, very slowly, a smug, self-satisfied grin spread across her face.

Chapter Text

Pretending nothing happened was easy. Or at least, that's what Rhaenyra told herself as she strolled into Alicent's office, coffee in hand, a smirk tugging at her lips like she hadn’t spent the last gods-know-how-many hours dissecting every goddamn second of that night. But she was making progress. It had been a little over a week since they agreed on normalcy — and there hadn’t been a round two, so Laena could suck it. She’d settled on keeping the teasing to a minimum, if only for the sake of not giving Alicent heartburn. Because at the end of every single day, through every little argument, they still had a major project to finish.

Alicent barely looked up from her laptop. “You’re late.”

Rhaenyra slid into the chair across from her, setting the coffee down with a deliberate clink. “I’m still your favorite, aren’t I?”

Alicent exhaled through her nose, unimpressed. “You weren’t my favorite before, and you certainly aren’t now.”

“Tell that to the caramel latte I brought you,” Rhaenyra smirked, leaning back and stretching out like a cat. Alicent’s gaze flickered to the cup. Briefly. Barely noticeable. Rhaenyra noticed anyway. She surged forward, tapping the lid, smug. “Your favorite. Two sugars. No foam. Because you have the personality of someone who hates joy.” Rhaenyra always remembered Alicent's exact order. She always would.

She finally looked up, leveling her with a glare. Rhaenyra was dressed in her usual uniform, tailored blazer and brown Oxford shoes, hair combed back except for that one particular strand that existed solely to bug Alicent. It fell effortlessly over her face. “You’re intolerable.”

Rhaenyra Targaryen pouted and Alicent shouldn’t have found it adorable. “But you tolerate me, don’t you?”

She huffed, picking up the coffee like it wasn’t a silent concession. Like she wasn’t about to drink every last drop. “Only because I have no other choice.”

Rhaenyra let her have that one. For now.

Alicent took exactly two sips of the coffee before setting it down with a decisive clink, opening the folder in front of her. Back to business. Yes, of course. Rhaenyra stretched further in her chair, watching her with far too much amusement. “You know, you could just say thank you.”

Alicent didn’t look up. “I could.”

Rhaenyra smirked. Gods, she loved it when Alicent made it too easy. She leaned forward, propping her chin in her palm. “You know what else you could do? Relax. Just a little. Maybe stop looking at that proposal like it personally offended you.”

Alicent sighed, flipping a page, reading glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. “I could probably relax if you actually took your job seriously.”

The Targaryen gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “That’s a terrible thing to say to the woman single-handedly carrying this deal on her back.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked up, deadpan. “You missed the last two meetings.”

“Particulars.”

Alicent closed her eyes for a second. Then, deciding she couldn’t actually kill Rhaenyra without any real consequences, she shoved the worn yellow folder across the desk. “Review it. If you can manage that without running your mouth, I’d be impressed.”

Rhaenyra took the folder and immediately propped her feet up on the chair beside her. Just to be annoying. Alicent eyed the mess of highlighted text and revisions already bleeding into the margins. She was meticulous, as always. Rhaenyra skimmed through, flipping pages lazily. “You over-explained this section.”

Alicent blinked. “No, I clarified it.”

“No, you made it so tedious that whoever reads it will fall into a coma before they reach the end.”

Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s precise.”

“It’s overkill.”

“It’s necessary.”

“It’s tragic, actually.” Rhaenyra crossed her legs, scanning another page. “The global demand for accessible, well-curated legal texts is increasing, particularly in trade law, maritime law, and cross-jurisdictional case studies.” She read out loud. “This partnership is projected to generate a 12-15% revenue increase within the first fiscal year — then you just go on and on in circles. This entire section is unwarranted. Look, you can just say this…” She reached for a pen and scribbled something in the margin, cutting down an entire paragraph to a single, sharp sentence. “Boom. Streamlined. Sexy. To the point.”

Alicent took the folder back, reading over the edit. Her brows knitted together in a frown. “That’s… actually better.”

Rhaenyra smirked. “I know.”

Alicent exhaled, shaking her head. “I hate when you’re right.”

“Lucky for you, it happens a lot.” Alicent ignored that. Barely.

Instead, she flipped to another section, pointing to a financial projection Rhaenyra definitely had not read properly before. “We need to adjust this before presenting. The projections need to reflect the new acquisition model, or we’ll look incompetent.”

Rhaenyra hummed. “So… more bullshitting?”

“Just— fix it, Rhaenyra.” Alicent closed her eyes, as if summoning patience, turning to her computer to try and piece together the oral presentation.

Rhaenyra saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”

“What… don’t do that. Weirdo.”

Rhaenyra grinned wider. Oh, this was fun. The clock ticked closer to their deadline, the weight of it pressing down. But for now — this was fine. They could do this. They could pretend. Even if the air between them still buzzed. And it wasn’t even the fact that they’d fucked. It was something much deeper than that. Sleeping together was, as Laena once put it, the most obvious outcome of whatever was between them. It was that . It . The thing she couldn’t name because it had always been there, always lurking. 

Rhaenyra had to pretend. Because this — the sharp words, the quick-witted retorts, the illusion of normalcy — was the game they had chosen to play. Compromising on the truth for the sake of… what, genuinely? Maybe for peace of mind, possibly for their very, very, barely-there, friendship. Camaraderie? What would one call a constant, tormenting presence in their life? Rhaenyra sighed, thinking, fingers idly toying with the gold necklace she always wore, the dragon pendant tinkling softly. Alicent’s eyes flickered up, then back down, her focus returning to whatever she was doing. 

She moved to type again, and their hands brushed. Barely. Rhaenyra swallowed, sitting up straighter in her chair, willing her mind to focus on the task at hand, holding her face impassive. But underneath it? Underneath it, Rhaenyra could still feel how Alicent had shuddered against her. The way her breath had caught, the way her nails had dug into her back, the markings now faded, the way she had looked at her after — like Alicent regretted every second of it and wanted it to happen again anyway. 

So, yeah. There’s that.

Observing helped, in its own way. Like noticing the faint furrow of Alicent’s brow when she was lost in thought, the subtle way she worried the inside of her cheek when she was about to make a particularly brutal edit. She marveled at how the sunlight seemed to conspire in her favor, hitting her hair just right, catching the gold strands woven into perfect, soft copper waves with the single purpose of mesmerizing Rhaenyra. 

Alicent’s lips moved just slightly as she read, her eyes going from one side of the screen to the other, incredibly sharp. Rhaenyra saw it, everything. It was in these moments, watching her, that Rhaenyra felt both achingly close and impossibly far, and she longed for every little thing. To commit these details to memory, even the way she tapped her fingers against the desk — a habit she absolutely wasn’t aware of.

Or the way her hand was still so close. And she hated that it made her stomach flip.

Rhaenyra could feel the warmth of it, just inches from hers, fingers still resting near where they’d brushed before. She really shouldn’t be thinking about it. But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She wasn’t not thinking about it. Her eyes flicked up, watching the way Alicent’s mouth pressed into a line as she deleted an entire section, muttering something about lack of clarity under her breath. It wasn’t fair that someone could be this beautiful while doing something so excruciatingly dull.

The object of Rhaenyra’s focus for the last twenty minutes sighed, finally breaking the silence. “Are you even reading this, or are you just staring at me?”

Rhaenyra smirked. “What, am I not allowed to multitask?” Alicent shot her a look, unimpressed. Rhaenyra twirled her pen between her fingers. “I just think it’s fascinating, watching you commit murder via document.”

She rolled her eyes. “It’s called making necessary revisions.”

“It’s called heartlessly gutting my work,” Rhaenyra shot back.

Alicent didn’t even look up. “Your work was a mess.”

“How very dare you.”

There was a pause. Alicent seemed to debate something. Then: “I thought you liked it messy.” And she smirked, just slightly.

Rhaenyra froze, and nearly toppled out of her chair, catching herself at the last second, hand slamming down onto the desk to steady her. Her eyes snapped to Alicent like she’d just grown a second head. Because Alicent — thorough, uptight, doesn’t-know-how-to-have-fun Alicent — had just said that. Had just teased her. Had just thrown that particular line back at her, like it meant nothing, like she wasn’t the most repressed woman in Westeros.

Alicent didn’t even look up.

Oh, she knew what she’d done. Rhaenyra could see it in the way her lips twitched, like she was trying so hard to suppress a smirk. She despised that she was still thinking about the other time she had seen that smirk. When it wasn’t just teasing, but something darker, something that had made Rhaenyra shiver. Gods fucking help her, Rhaenyra did love her. Wait. No. Not that. But maybe something equally as catastrophic. If not more. Because Rhaenyra knew she was in love with Alicent, for as long as she remembered how to breathe, but loving Alicent Hightower was something else entirely.

She cleared her throat, schooled her expression, pretended her entire world hadn’t just been shaken to its core. “Did… did you just—”

Alicent looked at her, arching a perfectly shaped brow as she pulled her glasses off. “Hm?”

Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes. Oh, you arrogant little— Rhaenyra needed a fucking break. She pushed her chair back, standing abruptly. “I need a drink.”

“If you think I’m letting you drink on the job…”

“Coffee,” Rhaenyra clarified, already halfway to the door. “Or, if you keep acting like this, maybe something stronger.”

Alicent just shook her head, turning back to the screen. Rhaenyra needed the distance. Because pretending was so much harder than she thought it would be. She shivered, making her way through the maze of corridors and cubicles that made up Hightower Publishing’s office, stopping with a sigh just before entering the break room. Rhaenyra took her time getting coffee. 

Not because she needed it (though she probably did) but because she needed a minute. Needed several minutes, actually, to reset, to push the last two days out of her head, to stop feeling every single glance, every single brush of skin, every single time Alicent looked at her like she was either seconds from kissing her again or firing her on the spot.

The office break room was empty, mercifully quiet, the hum of the coffee machine the only sound filling the space. Rhaenyra leaned against the counter as she waited, tapping her fingers against the stainless steel. She could do this. Rhaenyra could be normal. She could sit in a room with Alicent and not think about how she tasted, or how she bucked her hips against Rhaenyra’s face, seeking her. 

Alicent’s voice was just the worst part of it all, because, while she talked down at Rhaenyra for doing something inevitably stupid at work, she had heard that voice moaning her name. Telling her she was about to come. It was all Rhaenyra could remember. Just thinking — while trying not to think, mind you — about it was enough to make heat spread in waves over her body.

Fuck.

The machine beeped. Rhaenyra yanked the cup out a little too quickly, spilling a few drops onto her wrist. She winced, sucking in a sharp breath as her skin reddened. Perfect. By the time she made it back to the office, Rhaenyra had fully convinced herself she was composed, unaffected, ready to pretend that nothing had changed. Except Alicent was standing when she walked in, pacing behind her desk, phone pressed to her ear. Rhaenyra only caught half of the conversation — something angry, something tense — but the moment Alicent saw her, her spine went rigid, her grip tightening around the phone like she hadn’t meant for Rhaenyra to hear any of it.

And Rhaenyra? She knew that look all too well.

She sat down on her chair slowly, crossing her legs, watching as Alicent murmured a few more words, then hung up, exhaling.

“Everything okay?” she asked, too casual.

Alicent was already schooling her expression into something unreadable. “Fine.”

Liar.

Rhaenyra leaned against the desk, tilting her head. “You sure?”

Alicent shot her a look, one that would have worked on anyone else. But not on Rhaenyra. Because, well, she was Rhaenyra. “I said I’m fine.” Rhaenyra hummed, crossing her arms. Alicent exhaled. “Drop it, Rhaenyra.”

So defensive.

Rhaenyra’s lips curled as she leaned in just enough to make it feel like it meant something. “You’re really bad at pretending nothing’s wrong.”

Alicent looked up at her then, exasperated. And for half a second, Rhaenyra wondered if she was about to kiss her again just to shut her up. But she didn't. Rhaenyra barely had time to react before Alicent was already moving. She set her coffee down with a sharp clink, her eyes zeroing in on the faint red mark on Rhaenyra’s wrist — the one she had barely even noticed herself. “You burned your hand,” Alicent said, voice clipped.

Rhaenyra blinked, then followed Alicent’s gaze. “It’s fine.” Alicent didn’t bother replying. Instead, she turned to one of the cabinets behind her desk near the wall, pulling it open with far too much force. Rhaenyra watched, mildly amused, as her boss rifled through its contents before finally pulling out a small, very well-stocked medkit. Her smirk turned into a smile. “Oh my gods, you’re actually serious about this?”

She turned back around, unimpressed. “Unlike you, I like to be prepared.”

Rhaenyra chuckled, watching as Alicent set the kit down, sat on a chair herself, and popped it open with practiced efficiency. She pulled out a small tube of burn cream, flipping the cap with a crisp click. Then hummed, leaning against the desk. 

“You know, if you wanted an excuse to touch me, you could’ve just asked…”

Alicent grabbed her wrist before she could finish the sentence. Her grip was gentle but firm, fingers curling just enough to keep Rhaenyra still. And just like that — all of Rhaenyra’s teasing died in her throat. Alicent didn’t say anything as she squeezed a small amount of cream onto her fingers and smoothed it over the burn in careful strokes. Rhaenyra exhaled slowly. The touch was impersonal. Practical. Clinical, even. But it lingered. Rhaenyra could tell. Alicent was focused, brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line, like she was forcing herself not to look at anything but the task at hand.

Like she wasn’t thinking about how her fingers had curled around Rhaenyra’s wrist in a very different way just nights ago.

She swallowed.

“You didn't have to do this,” Rhaenyra murmured.

Alicent still didn't look at her. “You weren't going to do it yourself.”

“And you care because…?”

Alicent finally lifted her gaze, her eyes flickering up to meet Rhaenyra's — and for a moment, just a moment, something passed between them. “I don't.” It was gone just as quickly as Alicent looked away. She grabbed a bandage from the kit and wrapped it neatly around Rhaenyra's wrist, securing it with almost aggressive efficiency. It was simply office politics. That’s what Alicent told herself, even as her touch lingered on Rhaenyra. She was just being a good CEO, caring for the well-being of her employees. The fact that it was Rhaenyra, and that the burn was barely noticeable, didn't matter. Meaningless variables. “There.” She let go, snapping the medkit shut. “Now get back to work.” Rhaenyra flexed her fingers, watching the way Alicent got up and busied herself, turning on her heel to put the medkit away like she hadn't just lingered. “It's hard,” she said. “This.”

The words hung between them like a confession neither wanted to voice. It was hard. Rhaenyra could lie to herself as much as she wished and tell herself it was easy, but there was no denying this. Rhaenyra's fingers tightened on the edge of the desk, her eyes flicking from the bandaged wrist to the quiet determination etched on Alicent's face — even as she avoided her stare. Rhaenyra's heart pounded, echoing in the stillness of the moment, every beat a reminder of the night that had upended their carefully constructed little world.

“It's not just the proposal,” she finally murmured, her tone low and rough, carrying the weight of so many unsaid things.

Alicent's hand stilled mid-motion, her back still stiff as if bracing against the burden of that admission. She didn't answer immediately — just inhaled slowly, steadying herself — until finally, her voice came again, quiet this time, laden with something that sounded a lot like resolve. “I know.” 

And in that moment, despite the business documents scattered across the desk and the impending deadline hanging over them like an unyielding specter, everything else melted away. There was only this: the delicate realization that no amount of work or cruelty could ever fully hide what happened. 

“I just… I—” Alicent exhaled sharply, still refusing to meet her eyes, “I want you to know… I'm not that heartless, okay? I—” Another pause. Another deep breath as if she was grasping for something steady in all this. Rhaenyra appreciated the gesture. Alicent was trying. “I'm not the frigid bitch everyone thinks I am. There are things that need to be done. Like this. You get that, don't you?” She was looking at Rhaenyra now.

Rhaenyra swallowed the lump bubbling up in her throat. 

Oh, fuck.

Because yes, she got it. She got it so much it made her ache. The pressing load of responsibility, the constant grip of duty, how it burrowed its claws into her bones and refused to let go. Alicent had been carrying that weight for so long, she probably didn't even remember what it felt like to put it down. Rhaenyra had seen it. Wanted to carry it for her. Had seen the exhaustion in the way Alicent held herself, felt the tension in her body that never seemed to ease, not even in sleep, not even after… She stopped that thought before it got to her, sucking in a sharp breath, her lungs feeling suddenly too small, or maybe the room didn’t have enough oxygen. 

“That's not what I think, Alicent.” Rhaenyra muttered, “That's not what I think at all. I don't think you're heartless. Actually, I think you care. A lot.” And maybe that is why you do the things you do, she wanted to say, but didn't.

For a moment, Rhaenyra thought Alicent might look at her. She didn’t. “Well, you should.”

“Why?”

“It’s easier that way.”

True. But Rhaenyra didn’t like easy — she had spent enough time thinking about what Laena had said, and had come to the stifling conclusion of acceptance. Rhaenyra only wanted things that hurt, and Alicent… well, she was pain in the form of perfection. They stood like that for a while, Alicent’s back turned, head low, Rhaenyra sitting down, watching. 

She could see the slight shift of muscles beneath an elegant white shirt, could see how her fingers had gotten worse in the last few days, red and bleeding and unsightly. Alicent’s anxiety spilling just enough to become psychical. Rhaenyra thought about getting up, walking around the table and behind her, wrapping her arms around Alicent and shoving her face into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. “Let’s get back to work,” Rhaenyra said instead, her voice soft but edged with determination. “Our deadline’s only three days away.”

Alicent’s jaw tightened as she exhaled slowly. For a long moment, neither of them spoke — until Alicent set the medkit aside and cleared her throat. Her eyes, still guarded and distant, flicked back to the stack of proposal drafts scattered on the desk.

“Fine,” she replied, more to herself than to Rhaenyra. “We’ve got a deal to close.”

Rhaenyra reached for her pen, sliding it across the document with deliberate ease. In that moment, every sarcastic remark, every lingering touch, was shoved aside, if only for a few precious hours of focus. The office buzzed with the quiet hum of productivity, the looming deadline a constant reminder that personal chaos must be kept at bay. She could see Alicent in her peripheral vision, settling into her chair and resuming her work.

Alicent began revising a paragraph, her tone curt and businesslike. “The projections need tightening,” she said, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm on the keyboard. “If we don’t meet these numbers, it’ll look like incompetence on our part.”

“You mean, the Rhaenyra Targaryen Special?” She teased quietly, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

Alicent’s eyes flickered, a brief flash of amusement tempered by annoyance. “Don’t start.” Rhaenyra smiled.

The next hour passed in a blur of redlined documents and quiet, strained efficiency. Rhaenyra tapped her pen against the table, the plastic cap hitting hardwood in a rhythmic motion, eyes skimming through the latest draft of this impossible, million-dollar deal, while Alicent typed dutifully beside her, muttering under her breath about financial projections and market confidence. For all her posturing, Rhaenyra was actually trying to focus. She was. But fuck, it was hard when every shift of Alicent’s shoulder, every sigh of frustration, every absentminded press of her fingers against her temple pulled Rhaenyra’s mind away from business and straight back into the mess of them . She tapped her pen harder.

“Could you stop?” Alicent exhaled sharply.

Rhaenyra blinked. “Stop what?”

She gestured vaguely at the offending pen. “That.”

“Sorry.” Rhaenyra set the pen down, raising her hands in mock surrender. “Better?”

Alicent didn’t reply. Rhaenyra watched her for a moment. It was almost endearing, how seriously she took all of this. Almost. There was a brief silence, the kind that felt heavier than it should. Alicent’s eyes dawdled on Rhaenyra for a moment longer than they had the right to, lingering past annoyance, before she turned back to her screen. Rhaenyra was still watching, taking her in, noticing the way Alicent’s fingers hesitated over the keys, how she seemed to be holding her breath. She wasn’t sure what made her do it — maybe it was the way the light caught gold in Alicent’s hair, or the way her lips parted slightly as she read — but Rhaenyra reached out, fingers brushing against Alicent’s hand.

Alicent froze, like a deer caught in headlights.

But she didn’t pull away. Instead, she let Rhaenyra’s fingers rest there, just barely touching, the warmth of her skin seeping into Alicent’s. It was a small thing, nearly insignificant, but it felt like everything . Alicent’s breath hitched, her eyes flicking down to their almost-joined hands. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, slowly, Alicent turned her hand over, fingers curling around Rhaenyra’s. It was a tentative gesture, shy even, but it sent a jolt of unwelcomed electricity through Rhaenyra’s chest, where her heart made itself known. She looked up, meeting Alicent’s gaze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, and she was met with no pretense, no walls, just the two of them, holding onto something fragile.

“This is a bad idea.” Alicent’s voice was barely a whisper.

Rhaenyra’s thumb brushed against Alicent’s palm, soft and reassuring. “Probably.” Her gaze was heavy on the CEO, unreadable. They stayed like that for a while, maybe minutes, maybe hours, time didn't matter. Rhaenyra’s touch anchored her, and it was enough. Alicent’s lips parted, breath suddenly laboured, the familiar flutter of ignored butterflies in her stomach a pestering reminder of where they stood in all of this. “You’re thinking too much.” Rhaenyra whispered.

Alicent swallowed, her pulse jumping. “Someone has to.”

A huff of laughter, soft and familiar. “Always so responsible.”

Alicent’s fingers twitched. “And you’re not?”

“Not when it comes to you.”

Alicent’s stomach flipped. With one lasting squeeze, she tore her hand away, ignoring the way her skin tingled in protest where Rhaenyra had touched her. “We have work to do.”

Rhaenyra leaned back, watching her with those damnable eyes. “Right. Work.”

That was the closest Rhaenyra ever got to a confession.

Three days later, when the time finally came, Alicent had prepared for everything . Every question, every concern, every possible hiccup the board might raise — she had a rehearsed answer for all of it. The financials were air-tight, the market analysis flawless, the risk assessments painstakingly detailed. This deal was hers. She stood at the head of the long table, perfectly composed, her presentation clicking seamlessly from one slide to the next. Alicent felt confident enough in this. She’d even woken up an hour early, just in case, so if she had a panic attack, it wouldn’t make her late. 

She’d gotten dressed in an elegant, professional, black dress. Did her hair — and she even used the extra-strong curl pomade, because not even a single hair could be left out of place today. Everything was perfectly prepared (though Alicent had skipped breakfast, worrying food might upset her stomach). Now, here Alicent was, laser pointer in hand, scrutinized under the eyes of the board, and the founder of Veritas Press. She barely even looked at Rhaenyra. She didn’t need to. Because this was the plan.

Except halfway through the Q&A, Rhaenyra shifted beside her.

A small movement, a subtle shift in weight, but Alicent felt it. And she knew. The only fucking thing Alicent hadn’t prepared for. She could sense it before Rhaenyra even opened her mouth.

“I think what we’re all really wondering is —” Rhaenyra interrupted smoothly, flashing a grin, “— what’s the real advantage of this deal?” Alicent’s fingers tightened around the remote. That wasn’t the script. That wasn’t even close to the script. Rhaenyra turned to the board, leaning in slightly like she was about to let them in on a secret. “The truth is, this isn’t just about legal publishing. It’s about control.” Silence. Interest. Alicent felt the shift in the room. She hated it. Rhaenyra gestured toward the projection model — but not the part Alicent had planned to focus on. “Right now, no single company owns both the Westerosi and Essosi legal markets. That means no single company is dictating the framework for how international contracts, business laws, and trade regulations are presented to emerging economies.” She paused. Let that sink in. Then — slowly, deliberately — “Veritas Press could be that company. With the help of Hightower Publishing, of course.” 

A murmur rippled across the table. Otto leaned forward slightly, steepling his fingers. A sign of interest.

Alicent’s stomach dropped.

Rhaenyra smiled, reading the room effortlessly, taking over. “We’re not just talking about selling books. We’re talking about setting the precedent for how laws are shaped, how policies are interpreted, and how businesses depend on the materials we provide. That’s not just market influence.” Her voice dropped, smooth, dangerous. “That’s power.”

A beat of silence.

Lord Beesbury, the oldest and most stubborn member of the board, nodded. “I like that,” he said. “Authority. Positioning.”

More murmurs. More nods. And just like that — the deal was sealed. Alicent smiled tightly, thanked the board, and clicked off the presentation. She turned, eyes roaming over Rhaenyra, taking one deliberate deep breath so as to not toss the remote at her head in front of everyone.

“Rhaenyra, a word?” Alicent said, her voice clipped, polite. Too polite.

Rhaenyra recognized the tone immediately — dangerously controlled, the kind of composure that came right before Alicent lost her goddamn mind. She smirked. “Of course.”

Alicent turned sharply, heels clicking against the floor as she strode toward Rhaenyra’s office. Rhaenyra followed, hands in her pockets, entirely too amused. The moment they stepped inside, Alicent shut the door — hard. The walls seemed to rattle with the force of it.

Rhaenyra’s office was a mess.

Not in the way that suggested incompetence, but in the way that suggested someone had been here, lived here, settled into the space like it was an extension of them rather than just a place to work. The walls were deep charcoal, modern but lacking the stiffness of the rest of the building. One wall was dominated by a massive window, floor-to-ceiling glass that overlooked the city skyline, flooding the room with natural light that Rhaenyra pretended she didn’t like but would absolutely lose her mind without.

Her desk was — expensive, sure. Some sleek, solid oak monstrosity that she hadn’t picked out herself, but it was rarely ever visible beneath the chaos of her work. Papers everywhere, half-reviewed contracts stacked in precarious piles, legal pads with scribbled notes in every margin, a handful of pens (most of them missing their caps), and at least two nearly empty coffee cups that she kept meaning to take back to the break room.

A leather couch sat against the far wall, looking far too comfortable for a professional setting. It was the kind of couch meant for lounging — and Rhaenyra did lounge, constantly, usually with her feet kicked up on the armrest while she reviewed contracts at an infuriating angle. On the opposite side of the room, near the bookshelves, was a bar cart. Not the sleek, minimalist kind Alicent had in her penthouse, but a well-used one. Half-empty bottles of whiskey and bourbon, a crystal decanter with god-knows-what inside, and two mismatched glasses, one of which still held the remnants of whatever she had poured herself last night.

The bookshelves were lined with not legal textbooks or corporate strategy manuals, but with actual literature, classic novels, philosophy texts, a few very dog-eared paperbacks she’d had since college. There was a signed first edition of something on the middle shelf, but Rhaenyra could never remember which author had signed it, and she refused to admit she forgot.

But then there were the personal touches.

A framed photo of her and Laena from college, arms slung around each other, grinning like they had the entire world at their feet. A pinned photo of baby Alicent she found snooping around Hightower Estate one day that had earned her countless arguments from the now-adult Alicent, ordering her to take it off her wall. She didn’t. A small dragon figurine that had mysteriously appeared on her desk one day (Baela’s doing, probably). A leather jacket draped over the back of her chair, because she always forgot to take it home. 

And beneath all of it — beneath the chaos, beneath the mess — there was order, in a way that only made sense to her. Because no matter how cluttered her desk got, no matter how many contracts she shoved aside, she could always find exactly what she needed.

And it drove Alicent fucking insane.

“What the fuck was that?!” Rhaenyra barely had time to lean against her desk before Alicent was on her — furious, pacing, eyes blazing. “You undermined me,” she seethed, voice low but sharp, cutting. “I spent months preparing for this, and you just…” She gestured wildly. “Went rogue.”

Rhaenyra hummed. “I did seal the deal, though.”

Alicent’s hands trembled — not from nerves, but from the sheer, white-hot fury simmering under her skin. She had controlled this deal down to the last detail, accounted for every possible objection, every hesitation… and Rhaenyra had ruined it. No, not ruined. Stolen it. Alicent turned sharply, heels digging into the plush carpet of Rhaenyra’s office, her breath coming in short, measured bursts. She wouldn’t yell. She refused to yell. But gods, she wanted to.

“You went off-script in the middle of a multi-million-dollar negotiation!”

“And it worked,” Rhaenyra interrupted, pushing off the desk. “Or did you miss the part where the board approved it?”

Alicent’s fingers curled into fists. “That’s not the point.”

Rhaenyra arched her brow. “Then what is the point, Alicent?”

The question hung between them, heavy. Alicent exhaled, sharp and unsteady, her hands clenched so tightly at her sides she thought she might draw blood. She didn’t want to look at Rhaenyra. Didn’t want to see that smirk, that infuriating confidence, that unbearable ease with which she had just walked into her negotiation, her plan, and stolen it right from under her.

“You don’t get to do this,” Alicent snapped, stepping forward, voice a blade cutting through the space between them. “You don’t get to waltz in like you own the fucking room and hijack my deal, my company, my —”  

“Our deal.”

Alicent stopped dead in her tracks. For a moment, all she wanted to do was hit her — actually hit her. She laughed, bitter and humorless and astonished, shaking her head as she ran a hand through her curls, fingers trembling from the sheer effort of not launching something across the room. Rhaenyra cocked her head, violet eyes locked on her as she took a tentative step closer, shrinking the distance between them and stealing all the oxygen in the room. Alicent still wanted to scream. Instead, she stepped forward as well, so close now their breaths intermingled, her voice shook with the force of it. “This is not a game, Rhaenyra.”

But Rhaenyra just grinned, slow, easy, daring. “Everything’s a game, Alicent.” Her voice dipped lower, velvet and razor-edged. “You just don’t like when I win.”

Alicent’s hands shot out before she could stop herself, finding purchase in Rhaenyra’s pullover and shoving her back against the desk so hard that the pens rattled. A half-empty coffee cup toppled over, spilling onto the carpet, the smell of long-forgotten coffee filling her nose. Rhaenyra let out a breath of laughter, grinning up at her, utterly delighted. She was drenched in the early morning glow, her platinum hair disheveled from Alicent’s grip, her lips flushed and parted, her purple eyes burning with the kind of intensity that dared Alicent to break first.

Rhaenyra should be sorry — she was sorry, in her own way.

Alicent felt her last breath of reason slip through her fingers. She didn’t think. She didn’t stop herself. She just… crashed . Mouth on mouth, breath on breath, teeth clashing, Alicent dragging her forward, devouring. Rhaenyra groaned, surprised, but let her, welcomed Alicent’s fury, let her pour all her anger and loathing and aching need into it. Fuck, she had missed this. The resentment, the desperation of it all. Rhaenyra whimpered  against her will, hands grabbing Alicent’s slutty little waist, holding her steady. Grounding her.

Laena was off by five days.

Their lips moved in a familiar sync with practised hate, remembering that one night they agreed not to talk about. Yet here they were again, inevitably. Rhaenyra pulled Alicent flush against her, their bodies molding together, and Alicent breathed out a needy whine at the feeling of how tightly the Targaryen was pressed into her. Rhaenyra swallowed it. Her hands roamed over her torso, palming her breasts from above her red pullover, squeezing them hard beneath the fabric, eliciting a pained moan from Rhaenyra — not at all unpleasant. 

Alicent’s tongue was clumsy, hungry, sliding against Rhaenyra’s without an ounce of finesse. Not that she was ever capable of it, because the ache between her legs was so strong that the paralegal felt like crying. She pulled away, gasping for air, only for a second, only long enough to see her desire mirrored in deep brown eyes, to run her hands down Alicent’s sides, down the hem of her dress and up again, feeling soft, heated skin under her fingertips, then down once more, leaving goosebumps behind.

“Let me make it up to you,” she whispered. Alicent’s breath caught, and she felt her walls clench around the nothingness inside her, protesting. 

Rhaenyra kissed her again, leaving Alicent’s brain in a dulled haze, heat spreading over her like she was burning alive. Alicent forgot why she was angry for a moment, but only a moment. Rhaenyra still kissed her like no one else ever did. Alicent hated it, hated that she could stay like this forever, kissing Rhaenyra, moving their lips in unsightly desire, tattooed hands roaming her body, claiming what was never hers to begin with. And then — then — Rhaenyra was pulling away again, a line of saliva stretched between them that made Alicent’s core throb painfully, and she was too busy staring at those wet, red lips to care, too busy trying to simply breathe to chase after her. 

She should have said no.

Should have shoved Rhaenyra away.

Should have walked out of this room, out of this moment, out of this fucking mistake —

But Rhaenyra’s hands were already sliding under her dress and up her sides again, teasing the fabric of her underwear, turning them around, and lifting her onto the table, spreading her open like she was something Rhaenyra had just been handed and planned to devour.

Alicent let her.

Let her press soft, searing kisses down her throat.
Let her bite her neck hard enough to steal a moan out of her.
Let her push her legs apart and drop to her knees like she was born to worship Alicent’s ruin.

Rhaenyra didn’t dare break eye contact as she pulled down Alicent’s underwear, fingers circling the wet spot on the fabric with a knowing smile. Alicent did want this. And gods, she had the overwhelming urge to punch her.

She didn’t, because Rhaenyra was placing a hand against Alicent’s bare stomach, palm flat, urging her to lean back against the oak table properly, softly, steady, a silent instruction wrapped in something dangerously close to reverence. Rhaenyra was only pushing her enough to guide, giving Alicent enough room to stop this if she wanted to.

If she could.

Her breath was warm against Alicent’s skin as she dragged her lips lower, lower, eyes never leaving the CEO’s face, calm, deliberate, watching for any hesitation, for protest. There was none. Rhaenyra took her sweet fucking time, taking in all the details she couldn’t pay attention to last round, her focus completely overridden by raw desperation. 

This wasn’t that, not at all. Last time had been reckless, blinding, a rush of hands and mouths, no room for thought, no time to take her apart piece by piece, trying not to let the inevitable regret get to them before it was done. Her eyes left Alicent’s face then, roaming over the expanse of her lower body, looking. Not just the way Alicent was trembling with unmet desire beneath her, not just at the way her breath hitched when Rhaenyra pressed her lips against the inside of her thigh.

But at all the details. Things she didn’t have the opportunity to appreciate: the freckle just above her left thigh, barely visible in the dim light of Rhaenyra’s office; the indents on the skin her underwear left behind, the faint crescent-moon scars along Alicent’s hipbone — something Rhaenyra had never seen before, something she wanted to ask about, something she knew she never would; the way Alicent’s fingers twitched against the desk, like she couldn’t decide whether to pull Rhaenyra closer or push her away. She took special notice of how her thighs tensed, not in resistance, but in anticipation.

This time, Rhaenyra Targaryen wanted to savor it.

A whimper left Alicent’s throat before she could even formulate some sort of thought, and she didn’t have time to do anything because Rhaenyra’s tongue was sliding against her, and the only thing she was capable of was hot-white pleasure. Rhaenyra took immense pride in that, flicking her tongue experimentally against Alicent’s swollen folds, exploring, tasting, not really caring to bring her to the edge just yet.

Words Alicent tried to get out turned into an unintelligible sound, somewhere between a curse and a cry, head tipping back against the table as lightning hit her every nerve ending, while every cell in her body screamed at her to press her hips down against that incredible pressure.

Rhaenyra pulled away, face glistening, chin drenched. Alicent whimpered in protest. “Shh,” she said, dragging her hands down the length of her thighs, spreading them wider, making her wait. “You don’t want the entire office to hear us, do you?”

“Don’t.” Alicent barked the word. A warning for Rhaenyra to get it over with, because Alicent was this close to melting into a puddle of desperation.

“Don’t what?” she murmured, voice filled with mock innocence, full of knowing. She wasn’t rushing this, not when Alicent was already falling apart in her hands.

Alicent’s nails bit into the wood of Rhaenyra’s desk, leaving ten neat little marks that Rhaenyra would later run her fingers over every time she was alone in her office. “Just—” she hissed when Rhaenyra pressed a kiss above her clit.

A pause. A taunt.

Then, Rhaenyra’s lips curved against her skin, breath warm and soft. “Oh,” she exhaled, like she had finally figured one thing out, like she had finally unraveled Alicent Hightower. “You want me to make you beg?”

Alicent’s head snapped up, glare hard enough to kill on impact. “Rhaenyra.” A warming. A threat.

A plea.

Rhaenyra just laughed, low and satisfied, because even now, she was able to tease her. Fine. She wouldn’t be cruel. Well, just a little. She used her pointer and middle finger to spread Alicent nice and open for her, holding her like that as she leaned forward, pressing her tongue flat against Alicent’s frayed nerves. 

The only sound that came out of her was a choked kind of whimper that sounded as if she’d been punched. Alicent couldn’t think. Didn’t want to think. Thinking meant acknowledging the sensations, the sheer overwhelming pleasure, and the fact that it was Rhaenyra making her feel that way. Fuck, she was way too good at this. It wasn’t fair.

Oh, how Rhaenyra was enjoying this. Alicent tasted better than she remembered, her mind had done it no justice. She would spend the entire day like this, fuck the meeting, fuck the board, fuck the multi-million-dollar deal. Alicent was worth so much more, and she was so perfect, so sweet, Rhaenyra’s favorite dessert running down her chin, her jaw. 

Alicent was always so wet for her. She moved her tongue in a way that made Alicent curse at her, hands slamming against the oak table, muffled only by the sheer volume of papers lying there. Rhaenyra Targaryen had never been happier.

Alicent’s body trembled almost feverishly, because of how badly she just wanted to shove her hips forward and take what she needed — but she was trying, desperately trying to keep herself in check, if only for the sake of her pride. Not that a thread of it was left, and it snapped completely when she heard a soft, wet, filthy little moan from between her legs. Fuck it. Alicent reached down, tangling her fingers into Rhaenyra’s boyish hair, pulling her flush against her, uncaring if she was able to breathe or not, teeth digging into her lower lip in a vain attempt to stifle the moan bubbling up in her throat. 

It worked to a point, but she felt that desperate sound escape through her teeth. Thankfully, Alicent had enough presence of mind to realize she was being louder than she should be — they were in Rhaenyra’s office, alone, sure, but screaming Rhaenyra’s name inside Hightower Publishing’s quarters felt way too humiliating for Alicent. Not that what she was doing right now was particularly dignified.

Rhaenyra wanted to make it linger, but Alicent wasn’t willing to let that happen, so she acquiesced, and if that's what she wanted, then Rhaenyra would give it to her. She slid her tongue inside of her, feeling the press of Alicent’s inner walls against it, welcoming, straight up fucking her with her tongue, letting her nose brush against her clit.

It was the only warning she had before Alicent’s mind went blank, Rhaenyra’s name spilling out of her throat as she came, thighs tightening around her head. It was too much, and Alicent learned at that moment that if she ever wanted to come quickly, all it took was a couple strokes of someone’s tongue inside of her — or maybe just Rhaenyra’s, Alicent couldn’t tell. Maybe the entire thing was a Rhaenyra thing, it didn’t matter. Not now, at least, as the force of her orgasm ripped through her, leaving Alicent’s brain fuzzy and her body pliant, fingers loosening from Rhaenyra’s hair, relaxing against the cold wood of her table. 

It had been a good decision on her part, instead of a glass one.

Alicent was trying to look composed as Rhaenyra pulled away. Really, she was.

But it was impossible when she was still perched on Rhaenyra’s desk, breathing uneven, legs weak, face flushed red, her makeup ruined and Rhaenyra —  godsdamn her — was still kneeling between her thighs, looking entirely too pleased with herself. And worse? Worse was the way Rhaenyra licked her lips, slow and satisfied, like she had just finished something sweet. Like Alicent had been dessert. A fresh wave of heat curled in Alicent’s stomach, but she forced herself to straighten, to smooth down the skirt of her dress (trying to ignore the wet spot that formed on her ass), to at least pretend she was unaffected. Rhaenyra grinned, smug, and stood, leaning against the desk, hands on either side of the CEO’s body, as if she wasn’t the one responsible for Alicent’s current state.

And then —

“I’m sorry.” Alicent blinked. She hadn’t expected that. Not from her. She swallowed, tilting her chin up, trying to appear unbothered. Rhaenyra exhaled, running a hand through her hair. “For…” She hesitated, smirk slipping, something more sincere flickering beneath the surface. “For the meeting. For going off script. I had no right to take over like that.” Alicent watched her carefully. Rhaenyra sighed, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to undermine you, I swear. I just…” She trailed off, searching for the words, voice low and raspy. “I wanted it to work. I wanted this thing we put so much time and effort into to actually go through.”

Alicent inhaled slowly.

Because fuck.

She had been so angry — so blinded by the fact that Rhaenyra had taken control, that she had been right, that she hadn’t needed Alicent’s careful, measured approach. But hearing her say it now, hearing the honesty in her voice — it was infuriating. It was disarming. Alicent exhaled, pressing her fingers against her temple, closing her eyes. Rhaenyra was still leaning over her, gold necklace dangling, catching the light, hands spread above the table, gaze steady, silent regret behind half-lidded eyes.

“I don’t know what to do with your apology,” she admitted, voice quieter now, but no less sharp.

Rhaenyra tilted her head, watching her closely. “Take it?”

Alicent let out a short, humorless breath. “It’s not that simple.” She wiped Rhaenyra’s chin with her fingers, letting her thumb brush against the paralegal’s lower lip.

“Why not?”

Alicent looked at her then — really looked at her. At the way Rhaenyra was standing so casually, like they hadn’t just done that , like she wasn’t still licking her lips like she owned this moment. Like she hadn’t just upended everything. Because that was the real issue, wasn’t it? It wasn’t just about the board meeting. It wasn’t about Rhaenyra being right, about the deal going through, about how Alicent had spent months preparing only for Rhaenyra to waltz in and fix it like she always did — reckless, brilliant, infuriating. It was about this .

This impossible thing between them.

And an apology wasn’t going to fix that.

Rhaenyra must have seen something shift in her expression, because her smirk softened just slightly. “Alicent,” she said, and for once, there was no teasing in her tone. No challenge, no smugness — just her.

And Alicent — Alicent hated that it made her want to reach for her again. So instead, she turned, smoothing a hand down the skirt of her dress, forcing herself to pull away. Her legs trembled when she stood from the table, body still struggling with post-orgasm laziness. “The board is waiting for us,” she said, regaining control, tucking herself back into the only thing that made sense. They still had a deal to sign.

Rhaenyra didn’t argue. But Alicent felt her watching as she walked away.

Rhaenyra sat across from her father in the private dining room of one of King’s Landing’s most exclusive restaurants, picking lazily at her salad while Viserys worked his way through a much heartier meal. The restaurant was the kind that prided itself on exclusivity, where the lighting was low, the wine aged, and the service so discreet it was almost reverent. Viserys always insisted on lunch meetings, though Rhaenyra suspected it was less about business and more about an excuse to get her to spend time with him. She knew why he liked it here. It wasn’t us the food, it was the privacy, the ability to have these little meetings where he could play the concerned father without the world watching.

“You’re distracted,” he noted, pausing between bites.

Rhaenyra didn’t look up. “Am I?”

Viserys hummed, piercing a piece of lamb with his fork. “You haven’t insulted my tie yet.”

She exhaled sharply, which could almost constitute a laugh. “It is terrible.”

“There it is,” he said, amused, before setting his utensils down and leaning back. “What is it?”

Rhaenyra twirled her fork between her fingers, gaze flickering to the tablecloth. “Nothing.”

Viserys gave her a look, unimpressed. “You forget that I know you, Rhaenyra.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin, then sighed. “Is it work? Alicent?”

Her grip tightened on the fork. “Why would it be Alicent?” The name alone sent a startling wave of heat through her, unwanted and undeniable. Rhaenyra’s mouth felt dry. No — her mouth felt haunted. “We closed a major deal this morning. That’s what I’ve been thinking about.” It wasn’t technically a lie. Except Rhaenyra was thinking about what happened after that, where she ate Alicent out on her office for a whole ten minutes before she fell apart on Rhaenyra’s mouth. Regretfully, way too quickly for her liking.

Viserys hummed, studying her like he knew.

Rhaenyra forced herself to take another bite of salad, chewing deliberately, refusing to fidget. Because fuck, she was thinking about the deal. Just not the part she could talk about. Not the part that would make this conversation bearable. Because all she could think about was how she had spent the rest of that morning with the taste of Alicent still on her tongue, or how she had walked into that boardroom afterwards, sitting beside Alicent like nothing happened, like she hadn't been kneeling for her just before they signed the deal. Rhaenyra couldn't talk about how she had caught Alicent adjusting her dress like she was trying to erase the evidence. And certainly not about how she hadn’t been able to stop smirking the whole damn time.

Viserys took a long sip of his wine before answering. “Otto is still pushing for her to get married. It’s exhausting, honestly. She’s done enough for that family, and yet he never stops.” He shook his head. “I worry about her.” Rhaenyra’s stomach twisted. “I know the two of you have… history,” Viserys continued carefully, watching her reaction. “But she could use a friend.”

Rhaenyra let out a breathy laugh, stabbing a piece of lettuce with unnecessary force. “A friend.”

Viserys frowned. “Rhaenyra —”

“I’ll try,” she said, cutting him off. “I’ll try to be her friend.”

Viserys looked at her for a long moment, like he wasn’t sure if he believed her. Then, finally, he nodded. “Good.”

Rhaenyra smiled tightly, but all she could think about was Alicent gripping the edge of her desk like she was steadying herself — like she was bracing for regret. The words wouldn’t leave her. Otto is still pushing for her to get married. Alicent had said nothing. No indication, no mention of it. But then again, why would she tell Rhaenyra? They weren’t friends. They were — what? What were they? Rhaenyra didn’t have an answer for that. But she did know that the thought of Alicent sitting through dinners like this, with Otto instead of Viserys, being reminded over and over again of what was expected of her, of what she owed.

“She’s a good girl, that one.” Viserys said, absentmindedly.

Rhaenyra’s jaw tensed as she forced herself to chew. She swallowed, setting her fork down with deliberate slowness.

“She’s not a dog, dad,” she said dryly.

Her father chuckled, entirely missing the way her grip tightened around her napkin. “You know what I mean. Dutiful. Hardworking.” He took another sip of his wine, sighing. “If only Otto would let her breathe.”

Rhaenyra let out a humorless laugh, reaching for her own glass. “Yes. If only.”

Viserys continued, oblivious. “You should talk to her, you know. She listens to you.” Rhaenyra nearly choked on her drink. Viserys raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Rhaenyra cleared her throat. “Nothing,” she said, reaching for her water instead. “Just—” She exhaled sharply. “Alicent and I… we’re not exactly at that stage of our relationship.”

Viserys hummed. “Well, try.” He gestured vaguely with his fork. “Alicent’s always been fond of you, Rhaenyra.”

Fond.

Rhaenyra pressed her lips together, fighting the grin threatening to form. Fond didn’t quite cover it. "What happened, father?" Rhaenyra asked. "When she came back after boarding school... she's, I don't know, hard, hard-er, I mean. Like a brick wall."

Viserys sighed, setting his utensils down. He gave her a long, measured look, as if debating how much to say. “She grew up,” he said finally, but there was something wistful in his tone, something sad.

Rhaenyra frowned. “I grew up too,” she pointed out. “I don’t—” She gestured vaguely. “I mean, I’m still me.”

Viserys exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “You had the freedom to grow into yourself, Rhaenyra. Alicent didn’t.” Rhaenyra tilted her head, watching him carefully. Viserys leaned back in his chair. “When she came home, Otto already had a plan for her life. It was mapped out, every step. College, marriage, children, a respectable career that wouldn’t interfere too much with the rest.” He paused, rubbing a hand over his face. “She never had a choice. And the worst part is, I don’t think she ever let herself want one.” Rhaenyra’s fingers curled against the table. “She was always so… good,” Viserys murmured. “Never stepped out of line, never questioned him. Even when I could see she wanted to.” Rhaenyra’s throat felt tight. “She was softer when you were younger,” Viserys continued, almost to himself. “She used to smile more.” Rhaenyra inhaled sharply through her nose, forcing herself to remain still. “Talk to her,” Viserys said again, gentler this time. “Be there, if nothing else.”

Rhaenyra swirled the wine in her glass, watching the deep red whirlpool like it might offer some sort of clarity. “Yeah.”

Viserys hummed, unconvinced. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “You used to follow her around like a shadow,” he mused. “She doted on you, you know.”

Rhaenyra did. She remembered the taste of honey cakes and candy, specifically peppermint licorice, the way Alicent would shush her giggles with a press of her finger against Rhaenyra’s lips. She remembered how Alicent would always save the last bite for her. Maybe that's how it all began. Rhaenyra’s lifelong obsession with someone who only saw her as a little sister. And then Alicent had left, off to boarding school, off to follow the pristine, polished path her father had carved for her. And Rhaenyra had stayed behind, untethered, carving a path of her own. 

Something thick settled in her throat, something that tasted too much like memory.

“I don’t think she likes me very much.”

Viserys chuckled. “She wouldn’t be so tense around you if she didn’t care.”

That made Rhaenyra pause. She thought of the way Alicent had stormed into her office earlier, livid. The way she had gripped the edge of the desk like it might ground her, like she wasn’t sure whether she wanted to shake Rhaenyra or kiss her, or both. The way she had melted beneath Rhaenyra’s mouth.

She took another sip of wine.

“You should call your brothers,” he said instead, switching gears. “It’s been a while.” Rhaenyra exhaled, relieved at the shift.

“I will,” she promised, swirling the last of her wine in her glass.

And she would. But not tonight. Tonight, she had someone else to see.

Alicent had been staring at the same manuscript for the past forty-five minutes, the words blurring into an indecipherable mess. She'd read the same sentence at least a dozen times, but her brain refused to process it, the exhaustion settling too deep in her bones. She exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose just as a knock echoed through the penthouse. 

With a sigh, she pushed herself up from the couch, smoothing a hand over her sweater — soft cashmere, the color of dark red, paired with loose linen shorts. Comfortable. Presentable enough if she had to take a late-night call, but hardly meant for visitors. When she opened the door, her tiredness only deepened. Rhaenyra stood there, all effortless arrogance, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. Alicent made a mental note to have a stern conversation with her doorman.

“Before you yell at me—”

Alicent exhaled sharply. “Gods, what now?”

“No work,”  Rhaenyra said quickly, stepping inside before Alicent could slam the door in her face. “No arguments. No… whatever this is. ” She gestured vaguely between them, smirking when Alicent’s eyes narrowed. “Just wine and, I don’t know, friendship?” She winced slightly, like the word tasted foreign on her tongue.

Alicent crossed her arms. “ Friendship? ”

“Mmhmm.” Rhaenyra popped the cork off the bottle, taking a step closer, voice dipping into something mockingly sincere. “It’s this thing where two people spend time together without screaming at each other or having incredibly hot, ill-advised lesbian sex.” She tilted her head. “I thought we could give it a try.”

Alicent stared at her, unimpressed. Then, after a long pause — “You’re an idiot.” Rhaenyra smiled. Alicent sighed. Then, to her own surprise, “One glass.”

Rhaenyra smirked as she stepped inside. “We’ll see.”

Chapter Text

“And then Laenor dared me to jump from the second floor balcony into the pool,” Rhaenyra said, smiling as she swirled the wine in her glass; the bottle sitting half-empty in between them, a clear counterpoint to Alicent’s vain promise of only one glass. “Which,” she continued, “in my defense, seemed perfectly reasonable at the time.”

Alicent, already tipsy, narrowed her eyes. “How old were you?”

She paused, thinking. “Seven?”

“Seven?!” Alicent’s mouth fell open.

“Maybe eight.”

She let out a shocked laugh, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Oh, for the love of—”

“Well, I missed, obviously. Broke my arm.” Rhaenyra grinned when Alicent let out a horrified gasp. “Screamed so loudly that my father thought someone was being murdered.”

Alicent gaped at her, reaching behind her head to grab a pillow lying on the couch, throwing at Rhaenyra. “You could’ve died!”

She simply laughed, grabbing the pillow with one hand, taking a sip of wine with the other. “But I didn’t. And Laenor got grounded for an entire month. It was worth it, in my opinion.” Alicent shook her head, settling her glass down as she leaned to the side onto one hand, palm splayed against the rug, feeling the soft plush beneath her fingers.

“Is that why your mother had white hair?” Rhaenyra barked out a laugh. “I’m just saying. If I had to raise you, I’d have gone grey by thirty.” She smiled, watching her. Not the poised executive or the sharp-tongued storm — but this version of her. Loose-limbed and relaxed, hair tousled, cheeks flushed from wine and warmth. “What?” Alicent asked, self-conscious under the weight of it.

“You’re different when you’re like this,” Rhaenyra said quietly.

“Like what?”

Rhaenyra shrugged. “Not trying so hard to hate me.”

Her smile slipped just slightly, but the mirth in Alicent’s eyes lingered. The fire crackled beside them, low and steady. Shadows Rhaenyra used to be scared of danced against the walls, but she wasn’t afraid of them anymore. If anything, Rhaenyra was glad of the only witnesses to the rare, fragile ease between them. Rain lashed against the tall windows of the penthouse, sheets of it blurring the city into a wash of color and light. Thunder rolled in the distance, long and low, like a warning too tired to bite.

“Tell me another,” Alicent said, shifting to untuck her bare feet from under her. “Another stupid thing you did.”

“You really want the full trauma dump?”

“I’m already in too deep,” she said dryly.

Rhaenyra grinned, taking the remaining sip of wine from her glass, lips wrapping gently around the crystal rim. “Alright, but you asked for it.” She leaned in, voice conspiratorial. “Once, during a summer trip to Driftmark, I tried to impress Laena by riding one of the Velaryon jet skis.”

Alicent’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve owned jet skis this entire time and never brought them up in a board meeting?”

“Darling, I’m trying to maintain a modicum of professionalism,” Rhaenyra said, placing a hand dramatically over her heart.

“You had sex with me on a table,” Alicent deadpanned.

Rhaenyra blinked. “Okay, but that was professional. Technically it was a negotiation. And I said sorry afterwards.” Alicent let out a laugh before burying her face in the crook of her elbow, muffling her giggles. “Back to the story,” Rhaenyra continued, pompous. “So there I was, twelve years old, absolutely convinced I could pull a sharp turn like in those ridiculous action movies. Obviously, I flipped the thing. Nearly drowned. Laena thought it was hilarious.”

“You were an absolute menace.”

“Still am.” Alicent rolled her eyes but didn’t disagree. She shook her head again, a small, reluctant smile playing on her lips. Rhaenyra watched her for another moment, then said, easy, “You should smile more.”

Alicent looked at her, something unreadable passing over her face. Then, just as quickly, she scoffed and picked up her glass again. “Drink your wine, Rhaenyra.”

“You ever do anything reckless as a kid?” Rhaenyra asked, nudging Alicent’s knee with her own. “Or were you always the picture of perfection?” 

“I was not perfect.”

Rhaenyra arched a disbelieving brow. “Oh? Do tell.” 

Alicent hesitated, taking a long sip of wine as if debating whether or not to indulge her. Then, finally, she sighed. “I used to sneak into my girlfriend’s room at night as a teen. In boarding school.”

“Girlfriend?”

Alicent huffed, already regretting saying anything. “It wasn’t serious. Just—” She waved a hand vaguely. “Teenage nonsense.” Rhaenyra smiled, shifting closer, eyes alight with interest. Alicent shot her a sharp look. “It was boarding school, Rhaenyra. What else was I supposed to do?”

The paralegal laughed, delighted. “And here I thought you were all about rules and propriety.” Alicent tsked, but there was the barest hint of color creeping up her neck. She took another sip of wine, avoiding Rhaenyra’s gaze. And Rhaenyra, meanwhile, was thriving. She leaned in, voice dipping into something vexing. “So tell me, perfect Alicent Hightower, was she your first time?” Alicent scrunched her face, skin flushing further with embarrassment. “No?!” 

She groaned, pressing the heel of her palm to her forehead.

“Why did I even say anything?”

Rhaenyra laughed, nudging her knee again.

“No, no, you can’t just drop that and not give me details. Who was she? Was she cute? Did she break your heart?”

Alicent stared into her wine glass as if considering whether to down the whole thing in one go. “She was—” She hesitated, then shrugged. “She was sweet. Blonde.” So Alicent did have a type. “Smarter than me.”

Rhaenyra gasped dramatically. “Impossible.”

Alicent ignored her.

“We were… close. As close as you can be when you’re sixteen and sneaking into each other’s dorms.” She exhaled, shaking her head. “It was stupid. My father found out after a while, and that was the end of it.”

Rhaenyra’s amusement faded slightly. “Otto found out?”

Alicent hummed, swirling her glass. “Boarding school wasn’t exactly a safe place for that kind of thing. Father made sure I understood that.”

There was something flat about the way she said it, something rehearsed, like she had long since accepted it as fact. But Rhaenyra could see the tension in her jaw, the way her fingers tightened slightly around the stem of her glass. Rhaenyra had always wondered what happened. Why Alicent had gone from soft smiles and quiet confessions to rigid posture and frostbitten restraint. And now she knew. Otto had made her choose. And she had chosen survival. Rhaenyra looked down into her glass, lips tight. She’d had the freedom to become whoever she wanted — reckless, defiant, herself. She’d burned bridges and kissed girls and ruined reputations and no one had ever really tried to stop her.

Alicent hadn’t been given that choice.

Rhaenyra swallowed hard, anger curling warm in her chest — not just at Otto, but at all the years lost. All the years Alicent had spent cutting herself into someone palatable. She studied her for a moment, then muttered, “Fucking asshole.” Alicent blinked, then let out a short, surprised laugh.

“That’s your insightful take on the situation?”

“Would you prefer I say something profound?” Alicent rolled her eyes for the hundredth time that night, but there was something softer in the way she did it this time. “So, if she wasn’t your first… who was?”

Alicent groaned again, reaching for the wine bottle. “I need more alcohol if we’re doing this.”

Rhaenyra laughed, watching as Alicent poured herself another glass, already looking like she regretted indulging her. “Come on,” Rhaenyra coaxed, voice light, teasing. “I told you about my near-death experiences as a child. It’s only fair.”

Alicent sighed, tipping the bottle just slightly to top off Rhaenyra’s glass as well, as if preparing for battle. “Tell me yours first.”

“Laena.” She didn’t even hesitate, smooth as anything. “Senior year.”

Alicent hummed, swirling the wine in her glass before taking a slow sip, like she needed the extra time to process Rhaenyra’s answer. “Laena,” she echoed, glancing at Rhaenyra over the rim of her glass. “Of course.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just… obvious.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head to the side. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Alicent didn’t respond, just took another sip of wine, her expression unreadable. It wasn’t jealousy — not really. Never with Laena. But it was close. That quiet ache of remembering someone you knew you couldn’t compete with, not because they were better, but because they were chosen first. Rhaenyra clocked it instantly. She leaned in slightly, elbow braced against the couch, her gaze sharp and curious. “Your turn.”

“You’re relentless,” she muttered. Alicent thought about changing the subject. She didn't. Instead, she swirled the wine in her glass, considering. “My first time…” she started, exhaling sharply. “It was another girl. I was young, maybe too young. Someone my father would’ve definitely disapproved of.” Rhaenyra’s interest piqued immediately. Alicent smirked, taking a slow sip before continuing. “She was older. College-aged. I was still in school. Regular school, that is.” Rhaenyra arched her brows so high it almost touched her hairline, watching the way Alicent’s lips curled slightly at the memory, the way her fingers drummed absently against the glass. “She was my brother’s tutor,” Alicent admitted finally, voice quieter.

Rhaenyra nearly choked on her wine and her mouth dropped open. “No.”

Alicent huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “Yes.”

Rhaenyra nearly cackled. “Alicent!”

Alicent just shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “She was—” She trailed off, thoughtful. “Confident. Bold. She knew exactly what she wanted.”

“And what did she want?”

Alicent looked at her, half-amused, half-exasperated. “What do you think?”

Rhaenyra let out a low whistle, taking a slow sip of wine. “So, what happened?”

Alicent breathed, rolling her glass between her fingers. “It wasn’t serious. She was leaving for university at the end of the year. I was just…” She hesitated, “Something to pass the time.”

Rhaenyra’s smirk faded slightly. “That’s what she told you?”

Alicent nodded, gaze focused on the fire. “She was honest about it from the start.”

Rhaenyra studied her, watching the way her expression barely changed, the way she seemed to have long since come to terms with it. And yet— “She’s an idiot,” Rhaenyra said bluntly. Alicent blinked, looking at her. Rhaenyra swirled her wine lazily. “I mean, if I had you in my bed at eighteen, I’d have never let you go.”

Alicent let out a breathy laugh, shaking her head. “You have me in your bed at twenty-five.”

She stilled, just for a second. Just long enough for the words to sink in, clinging to her skin like sweat, the weight of them pressing hard over her ribs. Alicent must’ve realized it too, because she quickly looked away, eyes focusing on neon lights refracting in streaks of water, wind howling through the city like it had something to grieve instead, pretending like Alicent hadn’t just said the most dangerous thing in the world.

Rhaenyra sat her glass down, then shifted closer. “Do I?”

It took Alicent a few seconds to reply.

“You shouldn’t ask questions when you already know the answer.” She exhaled a slow, shuddering breath. Rhaenyra considered pushing it, she wanted to push, but then Alicent looked at her, really looked at her, and something in her eyes made Rhaenyra’s heart jump. Again. Rhaenyra hated it, when her heart made itself known inside her chest, doing summersaults like it had a right to feel anything for her. 

It was a mistake. Letting the silence stretch, letting the air shift.

“But I like hearing you say it.” Alicent made a soft, almost wounded sound. She swallowed, throat working around the motion. Alicent looked defiant, chin tilted, shoulders squared, but it wasn’t working. Rhaenyra could see it, just in the way her breath came just a little too fast. There’s a moment of familiar hesitation, where Alicent’s eyes flicker down, then up, jumping over Rhaenyra’s features as if unsure where to look first. Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, carefully, like too much movement would shatter whatever this was. “Alicent,” she murmured, voice lower than she intended. 

“I wasn’t going to fire you,” Alicent said, “That whole… paperwork thing was my father’s doing. He thinks you’re a distraction... Guess he’s right.” There’s a pause. Rhaenyra stilled. Alicent cared. At least, somewhat. “Those documents you found, yes, I did sign them, but it meant nothing.”

Rhaenyra’s breath caught in her throat. The weight of Alicent’s words dropped into her chest like a stone, heavy and unsettling. Rhaenyra leaned in. Not touching, not yet, but close enough that the firelight cast flickering shadows across Alicent’s face, close enough to see the rapid flutter of her pulse at her throat.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” She sighed, the breath escaping like it was something she’d been holding for far too long. “Otto… he has his own ideas, doesn’t he?”

Rhaenyra’s jaw clenched. “He always has.”

Alicent didn’t deny it. Her eyes dropped to the floor for a beat, restless. She looked younger like this — exhausted in a way that makeup and posture couldn’t hide. “He wants me to settle. Marry Vaemond. Make the company look… stable.”

Rhaenyra laughed, short and disbelieving. “Vaemond? Seriously? He’s still pushing that agenda?”

Alicent gave a half-smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “He thinks it’s a good political move. Makes me more palatable to the board, or maybe the press.” She swallowed. “Less… emotional. Less compromised.”

“Is that what he calls it?” Rhaenyra asked, voice quieter now. “Being compromised?”

Alicent didn’t answer. She just looked at her again, and the silence that filled the space between them said more than anything else could. There was something breaking open in Alicent’s expression — an ache, a vulnerability she didn’t know how to hide anymore. And maybe she didn’t want to.

Rhaenyra’s heart still stuttered in her chest, caught between disbelief and something sharper — longing, maybe. No, need . She didn’t know what to do with it, how to respond, so she did the only thing she could: she kept looking at Alicent, that faint, tight smile still hanging on her lips.

“You’re making this hard,” Rhaenyra muttered, the words spilling out before she could stop them. The silence stretched again, like a too-thin rope, taut and ready to snap. Because suddenly, Alicent was too close, or maybe Rhaenyra was, but it didn’t matter. It never mattered. Rhaenyra reached out before she even thought about it, brushing a loose strand of hair from Alicent’s face, tucking it behind her ear. Alicent exhaled sharply. 

“We said—” 

“I know,” Rhaenyra whispered. “I know.” And then she kissed her. Alicent made a noise — half a gasp, half a curse — but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she surged forward, pressing Rhaenyra down against the rug, hands fisting in her shirt, mouth desperate, hungry. It was a problem, this—them. Alicent could blame the wine, the loneliness, the fact that she hadn’t let anyone get this close to her since Criston, that Rhaenyra was fucking insistent, But deep down, she knew. She’d always known. It was inevitable.

Rhaenyra groaned, fingers digging into Alicent’s waist, pulling her closer. “Fuck,” she muttered against her lips. “We’re terrible at this friendship thing.” Alicent laughed breathlessly, but it was cut off when Rhaenyra rolled her hips up, making her gasp. Rhaenyra’s fingers curled into the fabric of Alicent’s sweater, tugging impatiently at the neckline. “This,” she grumbled, “needs to come off.”

“Here?” She said, a hint of surprise in her voice.

“Here,” Rhaenyra insisted, lips trailing along the line of Alicent’s throat. “Now.”

She let out an exasperated breath, eyes fluttering close for a second. Fingers shaking slightly, Alicent pulled away, back straightening as she straddled Rhaenyra. Then she reached down, drew the hem up, and tossed the shirt somewhere unimportant. Rhaenyra watched, marveled and transfixed, drinking in the reveal of perfect skin. Her hands wandered up Alicent’s sides, over the dips and swells of her ribs, then palmed her breasts, pointer finger teasing oversensitive nipples, circling over and over, drawing soft little sighs from her lips.

Rhaenyra smiled when Alicent shivered slightly, then turned them around in one fluid motion, hovering over her. She made a surprised little sound, almost a giggle, the wine working its magic through her blood, making her unrestrained and careless. “These too,” Rhaenyra said, voice rough, as her fingers danced along the edge of Alicent’s shorts. She obligingly lifted her hips, and Rhaenyra slid the garment away, dropping it carelessly to the floor, only to find that Alicent wasn’t wearing underwear. 

“You’re still dressed,” Alicent said, fingers tugging at the buttons of Rhaenyra’s pants.

Rhaenyra’s lips quirked. “How observant of you.” Alicent rolled her eyes, but the effect was spoiled by the way she shivered when Rhaenyra leaned in, her lips finding the sensitive spot just below Alicent’s ear. “Impatient little thing,” she murmured, grinning as Alicent’s fingers fumbled. Finally, the buttons gave way, and Rhaenyra kicked out of her trousers clumsily, boxers following not even a second after it. She returned to her previous position, braced over Alicent, their bare skin pressing together, heat meeting heat. She let out a low sound, arching up against Rhaenyra, hands roaming over her back, seeking purchase.

Rhaenyra leaned in, mouth finding Alicent’s again, deep and all consuming. They didn’t ease up to it, it wasn’t necessary. Rhaenyra’s tongue swirling unceremoniously against Alicent’s, demanding. She moaned into the kiss, hands fisting silver hair, pulling Rhaenyra impossibly close. Somehow it wasn’t enough.

“Take off your shirt,” Alicent ordered — though the more appropriate word would be begged, but Alicent Hightower did not beg, not to Rhaenyra, not to anyone. She pressed their mouths once more, tongue running over Rhaenyra’s bottom lip, seeking entrance. Such a wicked thing, how she was able to find immense pleasure just in kissing her, how she hadn't been able to stop craving it since that first time.

Rhaenyra grinned into the kiss, something cruel and hungry curling at the edges of it. Alicent’s nails scraped down her spine, impatient. Rhaenyra obeyed, yanking the first two buttons of her shirt open before deciding that it would take too long to open one by one; so she begrudgingly tore herself away from the kiss to pull the fabric over her head. The shirt came off in a decisive motion, flung somewhere across the room, forgotten the second Alicent’s eyes dragged over her like heat, eyes blazing over inked skin.

She didn’t have the time to look at them before. 

To be honest, Alicent felt safer in simply ignoring their existence. It was just too tempting. Rhaenyra's muscles flexed under her gaze, as if she could feel the physical weight of it. Alicent's hands followed, slow and greedy, mapping familiar skin with the reverence of someone who’d dreamed of this far too long.

Her fingers ghosted over the curve of Rhaenyra’s arm, pausing at the black lines wrapping around her forearm. Delicate, winding symbols she couldn’t decipher, probably Valyrian, but which felt intimate somehow, like secrets Rhaenyra had carved into herself. Her thumb traced the edge of a faded quote curling just beneath Rhaenyra’s wrist, and her mouth parted slightly, as if she meant to ask about it — but didn’t. Instead, she pressed her lips against it, making Rhaenyra pant, then followed the ink with her fingers, letting it guide her, like a map made for her hands alone. 

On Rhaenyra’s knuckles, tiny sigils and shapes had been etched with precise defiance, and Alicent felt something cutting lodge in her chest. A quiet, wild kind of awe.

And then Rhaenyra shifted, just barely, just enough, revealing the curve of a dragon inked in dark crimson and shadow-black. Its wings curled along the bone of her pelvis, head tilted upward like it was about to breathe fire. Alicent whimpered at the sight of it. Her hand let go, fisting around Rhaenyra’s gold necklace, tugging it forward towards her body. And then she kissed her again. The wine was still open on the floor, empty bottle and half-filled glasses abandoned and forgotten. 

Outside, the city lights burned gold and neon-soft through the windows, casting the room in a flickering glow. But here, on the rug, time folded in on itself.

Moving in a familiar rhythm, each touch building on the last, old ghosts and old hurts forgotten, at least for right now, Rhaenyra broke the kiss, panting softly against Alicent’s mouth, foreheads pressed together for a suspended second. Then she moved, sitting up, her bare back pressing into the foot of the couch with a muted thud. Without hesitation, she reached for Alicent, tugging her down into her lap. Alicent went willingly, straddling her thighs with a breathless exhale. Her hands settled on Rhaenyra’s shoulders, anchoring herself as their mouths met once more — slower this time, but no less intense. Her fingers found the gold chain at Rhaenyra’s throat again, tugging it taut between them.

It was the kind of fuck that didn’t feel like a fuck, it felt like a confession.

Rhaenyra’s hand found its way between them, slow but certain, fingers sliding against heat, slickness, and softness, deliberate in their slowness. Up and down, a barely there pressure. Alicent let out a strangled gasp, eyes fluttering shut, firelight dancing over her as Rhaenyra worked with a single-minded intensity. “Oh—” 

”I’ve barely touched you,” Rhaenyra teased, pressing her thumb firmly against Alicent’s clit but she didn’t move.

She was so deliciously wet already.

Alicent shifted, a low groan escaping her lips, fingers fisted in Rhaenyra’s hair. “You’re tormenting me on purpose.”

She hummed, feigning innocence. “No, just enjoying the view.”

”Fuck you.”

“That’s the plan,” Rhaenya chuckled, shifting their positions for a better angle as her fingers delved lower, slipping easily inside, past her aching entrance. Alicent welcomed her with familiar warmth. Her brow creased, muscles aching. “You can take it,” she whispered, free hand cradling the back of Alicent’s neck. “I know you can.” Alicent’s head flew back as Rhaenyra began to move, hands scrambling, searching for something to hold onto. Anything. 

Rhaenyra felt, saw, heard it all — the intoxicating mix of noises, desperate gasps, and the raw need in Alicent’s movements. She couldn’t get enough.

Her hand moved from Alicent’s neck, arm slithering over her waist, possessive but guiding. Grabbing a handful of her ass, she coaxed her forward, closer. She leaned up, mouth just a whisper away from Alicent’s ear, murmuring praise and praise and praise — all the things she could say when they weren’t trying to hate each other.

“I’m going to stretch you, alright?” And maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the setting, she didn’t know, but something about it made sense. Such filthy words coming out of her. Grounding. Intimate. Salacious in the softest way. Because there was something obscene about how careful Rhaenyra was. How tender. Saying something so filthy like it was a promise, not a threat. And Alicent took it all. She did it, she took everything.

Rhaenrya withdrew her fingers, leaving Alicent surprisingly empty, muscles complaining, begging to be filled again, but then — “Fuck,” Alicent cursed softly, feeling that familiar burn as Rhaenyra made good on her promise.

A bitten-off moan tore its way out her throat as Rhaenya moved her hand, slow and coaxing at first, giving her the opportunity to get used to it — a mercy she did not offer last time. It didn’t take long for Alicent, though. Her hips were already moving, grinding down in time with the pressure of Rhaenyra fucking her, chasing it, desperate.

“That's it, just like that.” And although Rhaenyra offered persuasive words, whispers of approval pressed into Alicent's throat, her actions showed no such contempt. Rhaenyra was not a very gentle lover — she fucked Alicent earnestly, unwilling to give her the window of opportunity to do anything except take it; trying her very best not to scream, thrusting two fingers — maybe three, four, her whole hand; Alicent couldn't tell, she just felt the soothing sting of it — with practised ease. 

The fire popped inside the fireplace, the sound muffled by faint moans and the sound of skin meeting skin. Rhaenyra’s hand was dripping, grabbing, pressing her forward, palming her ass with an iron-tight grip.

She watched Alicent through half-lidded eyes, relishing the sight, lazy and unguarded, pressing her thighs together in a dull attempt at soothing the burn gnawing at her gut — which was exponentially worsened by the fact that she had the most beautiful woman alive on her lap, her perfect hips grinding on her fingers, whimpering, perfect tits in her face, perfect lips calling out for her, perfect pussy wet and tight. And it hadn't even been 24 hours since the last time Rhaenyra saw Alicent like this, but she missed it just the same. Rhaenyra's sheer arousal at the sight surprised her, unimportant and insignificant under the weight of Alicent's pleasure.

Her name slipped out of Alicent's mouth, soft and warm, and when Rhaenyra's fingers found just the right spot, pressing upwards against her, Alicent bit down on her shoulder to keep from crying out too loud. 

Not that she needed to be quiet. Not here, not now. But even in such a delirious state, Alicent wouldn't give Rhaenyra the satisfaction of screaming her name.

Rhaenyra hissed, the hand previously resting on Alicent's ass tangling itself once more in her hair, tugging it hard enough to make her gasp. "No,” she said, voice rough and commanding, thrusts unmatched and unrelenting. “Look at me. I want to see your face when you come.”

Rhaenyra felt her own arousal pooling between her legs, the ache growing almost unbearable now, but this was about Alicent, always, and so she focused all her attention on the way she felt, how she clenched around her fingers, the gasps and moans she couldn’t hold back, the way she rocked back against Rhaenyra’s hand, seeking more.

It was half a whimper, half a curse from Alicent that soothed Rhaenyra’s nerves, and she relished the way her eyes fluttered open, pupils blown wide, reflecting orange light from the fire. It should be romantic, she thought — the wine, the rain, the fire, the soft fuzzy white rug beneath them. Except it wasn’t. It was heat and slick and desire, unrestricted and unbelievable. Rhaenyra increased her pace, palm now rubbing against Alicent’s clit as she gave into the precipice she knew so well when it came to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra had seen it countless times before, yet it still stole her breath away. She watched, transfixed, as Alicent’s orgasm ripped through her, forcing Rhaenyra’s fingers out, pussy tightening and releasing as she rode it out. Alicent in the throes of climax was a sight that would be forever seared into Rhaenyra’s brain, carved in her memory — an image she’d never grow tired of: beautiful and wild in her release. She waited patiently for her to come down, fingers gently running up and down her spine. 

Finally, the last tremors subsided, and Alicent slumped forward, burying her face in the crook of Rhaenyra’s neck, breath coming in ragged gasps as the paralegal's perfume filled her lungs. Rhaenyra wrapped her arms around her, holding her tight, relishing the feel of her naked body pressed against hers.

“Well?” Rhaenyra murmured into her hair.

Alicent lifted her head, leveling her with a lazy glare. “You’re cocky and insufferable,” she murmured, lazy. “Now shut up and let me return the favor.”

Rhaenyra grinned, the kind of grin that always got her into trouble — all teeth and mischief and heat. Alicent didn’t respond. She just kissed her, open-mouthed, hungry, fingers already trailing down Rhaenyra’s body like she owned it. And she did. She always had. 

Rhaenyra tilted her head back with a sigh, one arm curling under her own head as Alicent moved down her body with leisurely, measured intent. Every brush of her lips was purposeful, every press of her hand meant to undo. She kissed along Rhaenyra’s collarbone, teeth grazing skin just to hear the hitch in her breath, and Rhaenyra swore softly, her free hand gripping the edge of the rug like it could anchor her.

Rhaenyra moaned breathlessly as Alicent ran her tongue over the underside of her breast, languid and unhurried, taking one taut nipple into her mouth. Alicent just hummed in response, the vibration sending a jolt of pleasure straight to Rhaenyri’s core, and she couldn’t help but arch into the touch, desperate for more. 

Her heart was pounding in her chest, breathing ragged and uneven, and it was all too much. Alicent’s mouth was relentless, her tongue dancing around the sensitive bud, nipping and sucking and teasing until Rhaenyra was trembling, her entire body coiled tight with need.

“Fuck, Alicent!”

Then a harsh and unexpected sting of pain, sharp teeth biting down hard, followed by the soothing slide of Alicent's tongue, licking over the mark she'd left on Rhaenyra's skin. Rhaenyra jerked at the sensation, a small, strangled gasp escaping her lips, and Alicent's gaze flicked up, locking onto hers with a sly, satisfied smirk. 

"You like that?" she asked, basking in the new discovery.

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to respond, to say something, but all that came out was a choked moan as Alicent pinched her nipple, rolling it between her fingers. Her mouth returned to Rhaenyra's chest, leaving a trail of soft, ribbing kisses before she latched onto the other nipple, giving it the same treatment as the first. Rhaenyra's hands fisted in Alicent's hair, pulling her closer, her hips arching up as she sought more contact, more friction, anything to alleviate the mounting pressure building between her legs.

She moved lower, gradually, with the leisure of someone who had all the fucking time in the world. Alicent didn’t rush. She was methodical in her unmaking, taking her time as if Rhaenyra were something to be studied and savored. And Rhaenyra let her, let herself be worshipped like this, even though it made her feel too much. Even though she knew what came after — the silence, the space, the regret that always followed once Alicent pulled away.

Well, at least she had right now.

Alicent’s tongue dragged over her with aching precision, and Rhaenyra cursed again, her back arching as heat pooled low in her stomach. It was always a surprise, how intense Alicent was, and when her mouth finally made contact with Rhaenyra's clit, she felt the edges of herself blurring, pulse stuttering, pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. 

“Alicent—” she gasped, and her voice cracked with it. 

That only spurred her on. Alicent’s fingers dug into her thighs, holding her in place, unrelenting, unyielding. Laid bare just for her. Rhaenyra’s entire world narrowed to that touch, that mouth, that infuriating, perfect woman who somehow managed to be cunning and precise even in her lovemaking. Rhaenyra felt her orgasm inching closer already, cunt swollen and oversensitive.

Then Alicent pulled back, just a fraction, enough to make Rhaenyra whine, desperate and furious. Alicent looked up. “You were saying?” 

Rhaenyra glared down at her, face flushed, chest heaving. “I’m going to kill you.”

“But then who’s going to make you come?”

The nerve.

Rhaenyra grit her teeth, biting back a moan at the casual arrogance in her voice — the way her fingers were already drifting higher again, grazing her inner thigh. “I can do that myself,” she snapped, though it came out more breath than bite.

Alicent only laughed, low and wicked, the sound curling in her stomach like smoke. “Can you now?” she purred, fingers ghosting just shy of where Rhaenyra needed her most. “Then show me.”

The words hung in the air, sultry and daring, like the kind of command that might ruin her.

Rhaenyra blinked, heat blooming under her skin, equal parts surprise and arousal crashing through her like a wave. “You want me to…” she trailed off, her voice rasping, raw around the edges.

Alicent’s eyes were locked on her, unblinking, avid. “Mhm,” she hummed, mouth brushing the inside of Rhaenyra’s knee. “I want to watch you.”

Rhaenyra’s mouth parted, but no sound came. Her body was already betraying her, heat pooling low, thighs glistening, tensing beneath Alicent’s hands. She swallowed hard, pulse thrumming loud in her ears. Alicent leaned in, voice barely a breath now, her lips brushing against Rhaenyra’s navel. “Show me how good you are with those clever fingers.” Her teeth grazed just above her hipbone, and Rhaenyra’s spine arched instinctively, a curse slipping through clenched teeth.

Rhaenyra learned one very important lesson that night. 

Never get Alicent Hightower drunk on wine.

She froze, but just for a second, before her hand began its descent, trailing down her own stomach with trembling fingers. Her thighs parted without thought, instinct giving her away. Alicent watched her like she was prey, gaze fixed and dark, unwavering, marveling at how her nipples glistened with saliva, reflecting orange light. Rhaenyra's touch was hesitant at first, tentative and shy, as if unsure of what she was allowed to do, what lines they were crossing, grinding down on her palm experimentally.

“What a mess you’ve made.” Alicent whispered. “Look how wet you are, Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra flushed — fully in embarrassment this time, and she wanted to shut whatever was happening before it took seed between them, growing rampant. This was too much. It scared her, when Alicent was herself fully unrestrained. 

But then, slowly, without thought, her fingers still wet from Alicent's own pussy, dipped lower, feeling the slick and the heat coiling at her entrance, muscles tightening. She moaned at the contact — a soft, involuntary sound, too honest to hide. Her eyes stayed on Alicent, hungry for a reaction. 

She got one: Alicent’s pupils blew wide, lips parting, eyes darkening until they were near-black with lust.

There was a thrill coursing through her, an electric current of pleasure, knowing that she could wreck Alicent just by touching herself. Rhaenyra's fingers moved lazily, circling her clit. Then her movements became more confident, a teasing drag of her palm, then firmer, deeper. Just one finger at first, then another, hand spread, grinding over her nerves as Rhaenyra thrusted into herself, curling the tips of her fingers with easy familiarity.

It was embarrassing, and so fucking hot.

And yes, it was exactly like that.

It was intoxicating, the way Alicent was watching her, like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, like Alicent couldn’t have possibly looked away even if she wanted to. Rhaenyra was lost. Lost in the intensity, in the sensations, lost in herself, lost in Alicent. Her head fell back as she continued pleasuring herself, feeling warmth spread all over. Rhaenyra could feel herself getting closer, aching and needy as she fingered herself, hips lifting slightly. And just as she was about to fly over the edge, Alicent’s hand caught hers, stilling her movement for good.

Rhaenyra whimpered, the sound torn from her throat, angry.

“Alicent, what—” she started, but then Alicent’s hand was on her thigh, pulling it over her shoulder. 

Rhaenyra barely had time to register the shift before Alicent's mouth was on her, hot and demanding. Her body convulsed as Alicent’s tongue flicked over her clit, setting a pace that was almost brutal in its intensity. Her hands clenched at the rug beneath her, desperate for something to hold onto as Alicent pushed her higher and higher, closer and closer to the edge. Oh, how she tasted. Rhaenyra's breath came in ragged gasps, broken moans escaping from her lips. It was too much. Too much. And just when she thought she couldn't take any more, Alicent's free hand reached up her body to pinch her nipple, hard, and Rhaenyra fell apart with a cry. 

Her body convulsed as the orgasm crashed over her, pleasure rippling through every single cell in waves that left her shivering and trembling. Alicent didn’t let up, her tongue working her through it, prolonging the pleasure until Rhaenyra was trembling and oversensitive. She finally pulled back, eyes dark and satisfied as she looked up at Rhaenyra, who was slumped back against the rug, her chest heaving, completely wrung out.

“You’re such a bitch,” she murmured, voice hoarse.

Alicent smirked against her skin. “Takes one to know one.”

They didn’t speak for a while. 

Just lay there, side by side on the rug, breaths slowly evening out, limbs tangled more out of inertia than tenderness. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was heavy, maybe, but not totally unwelcome. Like the air itself was still charged from everything. Rhaenyra stared up at the ceiling, trying to remember how to move, how to think, how to be in her own body again. Her skin buzzed faintly — aftershocks still rolling through her in slow, lazy waves. She could feel Alicent beside her, her warmth, the rise and fall of her breath. 

She didn’t remember falling onto the rug. Didn’t remember the moment between climax and collapse. It all blurred together: Alicent’s mouth, the wine, the dizzy spin of her own heartbeat. She was only just starting to come down from it now, limbs heavy with that post-orgasm lethargy and the slow thrum of alcohol. Alicent let out a soft exhale next to her, almost a sigh, and Rhaenyra turned her head slightly, catching the profile of her face in the soft glow from the kitchen light. 

"I think I'm still drunk." Alicent said.

Her eyes closed, chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm. Her hair was a mess, expression was strangely peaceful — annoyingly so, given the absolute disaster zone between her legs.

She looked undone. And stupidly beautiful.

“On what?” Rhaenyra asked, still a bit groggy. “Power? Spite? My very impressive orgasm?”

Alicent let out a tired snort.. “On wine, you narcissist.”

“Could’ve fooled me. You went down like you were dying of thirst.”

“I’m not proud of it,” she muttered.

“You should be.” Rhaenyra stretched slightly, wincing as her muscles protested. “That was Olympic-level head. I might nominate you for a small, very inappropriate statue.”

Alicent groaned. “You called me a bitch.”

“Well, it was a compliment.”

She opened one eye to look at her. “It didn't sound like one.”

“You bit me!”

“You liked it.”

She gasped. “I did not,” Rhaenyra said, though her voice cracked halfway through and completely ruined the defense.

“Mm,” Alicent hummed, closing her eyes again. “I’ll frame that next to my inappropriate statue then.”

“You should.” Rhaenyra’s gaze lingered, her voice softening without her permission. “I meant it, you know.”

“The bitch part or the Olympic-level head?”

Rhaenyra grinned, lazy and wolfish. “Yes.”

It wasn’t until two hours later when Rhaenyra woke up to the quiet hum of the city outside and the faint ache in her limbs, her body sore in that delicious, satisfying way that told her exactly why she felt like she’d been run over. She blinked slowly, adjusting to the dim light filtering through the tall windows. 

Her neck hurt. Her back too. The rug underneath her was soft, sure, but not made for sleeping. She shifted slightly, wincing at the dull pull of overused muscles, at the way her hip was half-dead from how she’d been lying, then Rhaenyra glanced down.

Auburn hair spilled across her chest.

Alicent was still asleep, curled into her like a secret, one leg thrown over Rhaenyra, an arm draped possessively across her waist. Her breath was warm where it hit Rhaenyra’s skin, slow and even. Peaceful. Like she hadn’t been an absolute fucking monster just hours ago. Rhaenyra’s hand lifted on instinct, brushing strands of hair out of Alicent’s face, fingers trailing along her cheekbone. Soft. Warm. Real.

She didn’t remember when they fell asleep. Didn’t remember pulling the couch’s throw blanket over them. Just that at some point the world had gone hazy and quiet. At some point, Alicent had crawled back up and kissed her like a promise she’d never keep, and Rhaenyra had let herself believe in it anyway. There’d been soft laughter, the occasional muttered insult, a half-hearted attempt to move from the floor. And then… this.

She exhaled, eyes drifting up to the ceiling.

What the fuck were they doing?

She didn’t have an answer. Not one she liked.

But when she looked down again and saw Alicent’s lashes flutter faintly against her skin, saw the way her brow softened in sleep — Rhaenyra didn’t move. Just a few more minutes before reality crept up on her. A few, precious moments where the lie soothed that heavy thing in her chest. 

Then she slipped out of their position carefully, quietly, trying not to wake her.

Her shirt was a crumpled mess on the floor, one shoe half-under the couch, the other Gods knows where. She moved through the space on muscle memory, picking up the remnants of her night piece by piece, hair tangled, lips swollen, thighs aching. Her blazer was folded neatly over the back of a chair — Alicent’s doing, of course — and the sight of it made something sharp twist behind her ribs. It was almost domestic, expected, like it belonged there. She pulled on her underwear and slid into the rest of her clothes with the practiced grace of someone who’d done this before.

Not here. Not with her. But in general. The morning-after quiet. The half-breaths. The knowing.

But this wasn’t general. This was Alicent.

And she was still lying there, curled into a throw blanket like she hadn’t just ruined Rhaenyra for anyone else. Rhaenyra hesitated. 

Frustrated, she muttered, “Fuck,” and went to the mirror to fix her hair. Her reflection stared back at her with too much softness in the eyes. She yanked her hair into a ponytail, short strands that didn’t quite reach the back of her head falling forward. She was reaching for her phone, the screen showing it was almost 3 AM, when she heard it — soft, groggy, but unmistakably awake.

“Rhaenyra.”

She turned, half-dressed, half-guarded. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Alicent pushed herself up on one elbow, hair a mess, voice rough with sleep. “You didn’t.”

Alicent was softer now.

Her voice, usually so clipped and careful, came out low and unguarded. There was none of the tight control she wore like armor at the office, none of the acid-laced wit she used like a shield. Just her. Hair mussed and falling into her face. Cheeks flushed from sleep. Lips parted like she was still trying to remember how to be awake. And her eyes weren’t calculating, for once. They just looked at Rhaenyra, in that way Alicent always tried not to. Like she cared. Like she didn’t know how not to.

It was too honest.

Too brief.

A window cracked just enough to let the truth spill out before it shut again.

Rhaenyra swallowed, staring at her. At this version of Alicent — bare and blinking and still warm from where they’d lain curled together on the floor like they weren’t two people who were supposed to not do this with each other. Like they weren’t walking contradictions and sharp-tongued disasters wrapped around each other in the quiet.

She looked down at her lap, gathering the edge of the blanket in her fists. “So I guess we learned something.”

Rhaenyra stilled by the mirror. “Yeah?”

“We can’t be friends.” Alicent said it plainly. No inflection. No anger. Just quiet certainty, like she was saying the weather had changed, or that coffee was on the table. “You came here with wine and some half-assed speech about being friends, and now my back hurts in, frankly, very specific ways.”

Rhaenyra laughed, startled, and it came out more broken than it should have. 

“Right. Friends don’t…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced back toward the couch, the rug, all the evidence still lingering in the air like perfume. “They don’t do that.”

“No,” Alicent said. “They don’t.”

Rhaenyra swallowed. Her mouth was dry. “I meant it, though. When I said I wanted to be friends.” She paused. “I didn’t come here to sleep with you,” she said, almost defensive, like she needed Alicent to know she hadn’t planned this. Like that would somehow make it better. “It just—”

“Happened?” Alicent supplied, with a raised brow and something bruised in her voice.

“Yeah.”

Silence, again. This one more final. Not the kind that would come later, in a boardroom or an elevator, in the way they wouldn’t look at each other. This one was fragile. Tenuous. Like glass balanced on the edge of a counter. “You don’t regret it,” Rhaenyra remarked after a moment. Not a question. She couldn’t make it one.

Alicent looked away, toward the windows, where the glow of the city pulsed soft and distant. “No.” It was worse, somehow, that she said it like that. Gently. Truthfully. Because it meant she wanted this — whatever this was — and still didn’t think they could have it. “But we can’t keep doing this,” Alicent added. “I mean it this time.”

Rhaenyra gave her a crooked smile. “You said that last time.”

“And I’ll probably say it the next.” The next. “Do you want me to call a car?” Alicent asked quietly, like her voice didn’t want to carry. Rhaenyra blinked, momentarily thrown. 

Not You should go. Not What are we doing?  

Just — Do you want me to call a car? As if this was normal. As if she hadn’t all but fallen apart in Rhaenyra’s arms. As if she hadn’t given Rhaenyra the strongest orgasm of her life. She shook her head. 

“I’ve got it.” 

Alicent nodded, slow and small, like she’d expected that. She leaned back on her palms, the blanket sliding down to reveal the bare slope of her shoulder, the faint red marks blooming across her collarbone. Rhaenyra had put those there. Her throat tightened. 

“Your blazer’s by the chair,” Alicent said after a moment, almost too quiet to hear. 

“I saw.” A pause. “What now?”

Alicent pulled the blanket tighter around herself like armor. “You go home. You sleep. We show up at work and pretend nothing happened. Like we always do.”

“And after that?”

“After that,” Alicent said, “we stop pretending we can be anything but enemies with terrible boundaries.”

Rhaenyra nodded slowly, like her body was moving ahead of her thoughts. “Right.”

She stepped into her shoes — found the second one under the coffee table, of all places — and reached for her blazer, the one thing in this apartment that felt too neat, too cared for. She shrugged it on.

Then left without another word.

And it didn’t bother her quite so much. Because it felt different this time. The retreat. Not hard, not angry, not even resentful. Just — quiet. Like the tide pulling back, soft and inevitable. They didn’t crash anymore. They lapped. Edged away gently. Rhaenyra didn’t know what that meant. But it stayed with her. 

And whatever they were became a regular thing.

It wasn’t every night. It wasn’t predictable. But over the next two months, it happened more often than it didn’t.

It wasn’t love. Not exactly. Well, sort of. But it wasn’t hate either. Not anymore. It was something else, crooked and quiet, lived in the shadows between the boardroom and the bedroom. They didn’t talk about it. They just were. On late nights, when the city blurred into silence, when exhaustion dulled their sharp edges, they’d find their way back to each other like gravity.

Sometimes, Rhaenyra would show up with nothing but a half-smile and a bottle of wine, and Alicent wouldn’t bother saying no. Would just open the door wider, step back, and let her in. Those nights were slower. Quieter. They’d talk first, curled up on the couch, thighs brushing. Rhaenyra would tease her. Alicent would roll her eyes and call her insufferable.

Other nights it was less neat. Like the time Rhaenyra stormed into Alicent’s office during a rainstorm, furious after a board meeting gone sideways. She didn’t say a word before kissing her. Alicent didn’t ask questions. She just locked the door. They ended up on the couch, clothes half-off yet entirely in the way, Rhaenyra’s hands still trembling from rage, Alicent’s mouth soft against her jaw, murmuring, “Breathe. It’s just you and me right now.”

There was that one time — early on, when it still felt like a mistake — that Rhaenyra had pressed Alicent against the glass-paneled wall of her penthouse, one hand braced beside her head, the other buried under that silk skirt that always made Rhaenyra’s mouth water. She had whispered something low and vulgar into her neck, and Alicent had gasped and come so hard she bit down on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. When she’d started to pull away, to gather herself, Rhaenyra had muttered “I’m not done” and dropped to her knees.

Twice. She made her come twice.

The thing was, it wasn’t cruel anymore.

Not like it used to be. The barbs were still there — they’d never not be — but they softened. Blunted by something almost tender. Rhaenyra would still roll her eyes at Alicent’s tightly wound routines, and Alicent would still call her a reckless brat under her breath, but now… now Rhaenyra knew the shape of Alicent’s laughter. Knew that if she touched her wrist just right, just there, she’d shiver. Knew that Alicent hummed under her breath when she thought no one was listening, usually while brushing her teeth.

They didn’t talk about what it was. But it happened again. And again. And again. Always behind closed doors. 

Always with that unspoken understanding: this doesn’t leave the room.

But it kept happening. And maybe that was the strangest part of all. Not the secrecy, not the heat, not even the softness that sometimes crept in when neither of them was paying attention.

But the consistency of it.

The inevitability. Like tides. Like breath.

Like the fact that no matter how tangled the day got, no matter how brutal the meetings or how biting the headlines, there was always that moment: late, quiet, private, where Alicent would tilt her head just so, and Rhaenyra would follow her gaze like a compass with a smile.

It happened on a Thursday, which already felt like a personal attack.

The kind of Thursday that was already cursed from the start — Alicent’s email server had glitched, a supplier had backed out last-minute, and the elevator had stalled between floors with two interns and a tray of lukewarm coffees inside.

And then came the call.

High-priority client. Licensing error. Contract misfiled. Wrong draft sent. 

And Rhaenyra’s name on it, clear as day.

By the time she got to the 37th floor conference room,  Otto was already mid-rant, pacing like a man on the edge of war. Alicent stood near the head of the table, her expression unreadable, arms crossed so tightly it looked like she was holding herself together by force. The folder lay open like a crime scene. The wrong contract. Rhaenyra's signature on it. Her login ID in the metadata.

“What the hell happened?” Otto’s voice was sharp and cold, like breaking glass. “Do you comprehend how much liability this exposes us to? This isn’t some internal error we can quietly patch up. This went to Varathys, Rhaenyra. They have legal teeth.” He didn't yell, that was somehow worse.

Rhaenyra opened her mouth. Closed it. Her heart in her throat, beating like she’d swallowed a war drum. “I— It wasn’t the final draft. I had the correct one. I don’t— I must’ve uploaded the wrong file, but it wasn’t—”

“It wasn’t what? Your fault?” Otto snapped. “Of course it was your fault. This is what happens when you play fast and loose with protocols, when you treat every deadline like a suggestion and every process like a joke—”

“I must’ve—" She blinked. Her vision swam. "I must’ve uploaded the wrong version. I was working on both. They were labeled—”

“And still sent the wrong one.”

Rhaenyra looked to Alicent then, a reflex more than anything. Hoping, maybe, for a slight shake of the head, a warning to stop talking, anything.

Instead — “It wasn’t her fault,” Alicent said.

Sharp. Clear. Like a bell ringing in the chaos.

Otto stopped mid-rant. “Excuse me?”

Alicent didn’t look at him. She was staring at the contract, flipping through pages with unshaking hands. “The draft that was sent — it was routed through my internal review for approval. I must’ve missed the tags. I should’ve. That’s on me.”

Otto stared at her like she’d sprouted a second head. “You don’t miss things.”

“I did this time.”

Her voice was steady. Her spine straight. But Rhaenyra could see the flush at her throat, the slight tremble in her fingers as she closed the folder.

Otto’s jaw tightened. “This will have consequences, Alicent. Serious ones.”

“I’m aware.”

“We’ll be having a longer conversation about this,” he said stiffly, voice like a verdict, and left the room with the kind of force that sucked the air out with him.

The moment the door clicked shut, Rhaenyra turned to her, breath shallow. “Why did you—? That wasn’t—” She rubbed at her face. “Alicent, I didn’t mean to screw up, I swear, I had the right version.”

“I know.” Alicent gathered the papers with practiced efficiency, closing the file. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something beneath it, tiredness, maybe. Or something softer. Rhaenyra didn’t recognize it right away.

“It wasn’t carelessness,” she insisted, her voice rising, cracking again. But she refused to cry. “I worked on it, Alicent. I had the right file, it must’ve been seconds— Just seconds, I was switching between versions and— Fuck, I don’t even know when I clicked upload. It was late and I thought—” Her breath was catching now, fast and shallow. “It wasn’t like before. I didn’t flake. I didn’t blow it off. I swear I didn’t.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” Alicent said, not looking at her. “And I know you worked on it.”

Rhaenyra swallowed. “But Otto—”

“Otto can be managed.”

“Managed?” She huffed, incredulous. “He looked like he wanted to flay someone and turn their skin into a tax write-off.”

That earned a twitch of the lips. Not quite a smile, but not nothing.

“I just—” It landed in her chest like a stone. That she believed her. That she knew. Without explanation. Without proof. Just — believed.

Rhaenyra had no idea what to do with that.

For years, the narrative had been set in stone: she was brilliant, yes, a genius, but chaotic, careless. Talented enough to charm her way out of consequences. Lazy. Impulsive. Not serious. Even when she tried, when she wanted to do it right, it never stuck. People remembered her fuck-ups, not the effort behind them. Alicent finally looked at her then. Her gaze didn’t scold. It didn’t shield. It just… saw her.

“I’m not in the habit of letting good people get wrecked over a mistake,” she said, simply.

“Why would you take the hit for me?”

A beat.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Alicent said, gently. “I did it because it was the truth.”

And somehow that was worse.

Because Rhaenyra could’ve handled a favor. Could’ve snarked something back, called it pity or penance. But this? This knowing, this quiet insistence on the truth of her, when no one else ever seemed to see it, this left her breathless. And that was the thing. She meant it. No edge, no weaponized guilt. Just truth. Rhaenyra stood there a moment too long after Alicent left. The folder still sat on the table, her name still printed on the cover like a weight.

Rhaenyra stood in the silence, staring at the empty doorway.

She’d never wanted to kiss someone so badly in her life.

It was almost midnight when Rhaenyra showed up at Alicent’s door later that same day. The city outside was a blur of neon and drizzle, the kind of late-night rain that didn’t commit to a storm but clung to everything anyway — hair, clothes, thoughts.

Rhaenyra looked like she’d walked through it without noticing. Her blazer was slung over one shoulder, half-soaked, her white shirt clinging to her skin in patches where the rain had won. Her hair was a mess, silver strands loose and wild, sticking to her neck like she’d run her hands through it one too many times. Her eyes were bright, too bright, as if she was burning from the inside out.

She knocked twice, sharp and unsteady, then leaned against the doorframe, catching her breath. The hallway was silent, the kind of quiet that only came with money and distance from the world below. For a second, she thought maybe Alicent wasn’t home. Maybe she was out, or asleep, or, fuck, maybe she’d finally locked the door for good this time. Rhaenyra’s stomach twisted at the thought, her fingers curling into a fist like she could punch through it.

Then the door opened.

Alicent stood there, barefoot, her silk robe tied loosely at the waist, auburn hair spilling over one shoulder like she’d been halfway through brushing it out. Her eyes widened for a split second, taking in Rhaenyra’s state: disheveled, dripping, here — before her expression shuttered, that familiar mask slipping into place. But not fast enough. Rhaenyra caught the flicker of something softer, something that looked like worry, and it hit her harder than it should have.

"Rhaenyra?”

“Why the fuck would you do that?!”

Alicent didn’t flinch at the question. Not visibly. But her grip on the door tightened for half a beat, knuckles blanching before she let them go slack again. Her voice, when it came, was level. Tired. “Do you want to come in, or are we doing this in the hallway?”

Rhaenyra stared at her for a moment, jaw clenched, shoulders tight with something feral and uncertain. She didn’t move. “Why?”

“Because it’s midnight,” Alicent said, unimpressed. “And you’re soaking wet.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Rhaenyra stepped forward, crossing the threshold without waiting. “You took the fall for me.” Alicent sighed, stepped aside, and closed the door behind them. She stood there in the entryway, dripping onto Alicent’s polished floors, her breath shallow, fast. Like her body still hadn’t caught up with the fact that she was here. That she’d come. “You didn’t have to do that,” she said, voice low, hoarse from either the rain or the panic or both. “You shouldn’t have.”

Alicent walked past her, calm as ever, the faint whisper of silk against skin the only sound she made as she crossed the room. “It’s done.”

Rhaenyra turned sharply. “Why?”

Alicent didn’t answer right away. She poured herself a glass of water instead, ignoring the way Rhaenyra’s presence filled the room. “You want a towel, or are you planning to mildew in place?”

“Stop dodging.”

“I’m not.” She stook a deliberate sip from her water. “I’m just not entertaining… whatever this is.”

“This is me picking a fight to make myself feel better!” Rhaenyra yelled.

Alicent turned then, finally, slowly, glass in hand, her expression unreadable. “Is it working?”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth, then shut it again. Her hands hung at her sides, twitching like they hadn’t gotten the memo yet — like they were still ready to throw something, or grab something, or tear something down just to feel in control again.

“No!”

Alicent laughed.

Not at her. Not really. It was too soft for that. Too incredulous. Too weary. A laugh edged with something else. Like she couldn’t believe this was her life now: Rhaenyra Targaryen, dripping rainwater in her foyer, shouting like the world had personally wronged her.

“What the fuck is so funny?” Rhaenyra snapped, taking a step forward, and it came out harsher than she meant. But her chest was tight and her throat raw, and Alicent was laughing like any of this made sense.

“I just…” Alicent shook her head, brushing a wet strand of hair from Rhaenyra’s face as she stared at her. “I don’t know. It’s absurd, isn’t it?” Alicent's hand rested on Rhaenyra's cheek before pulling away.

“What is?”

“You.” She answered simply.

Rhaenyra blinked. Her rage wavered. “You’re un-fucking-believable.”

“And you’re soaking my floors.”

“I’m serious, Alicent.”

“I know.”

They stared at each other for a beat too long. Rhaenyra exhaled, sharp and uneven, dragging her hands through her hair. “No one’s ever believed me like that.” She looked at her like she didn’t know what to do with the weight of that. Like it hurt more than anything else that had happened all day. “You weren’t supposed to.”

Alicent tilted her head slightly. “Why?”

“Because that’s not what we do,” Rhaenyra said. “You’re supposed to scold me, call me reckless, make some snide remark about professionalism then you kiss me and we have sex and we go our separate ways. You don’t get to—” her voice cracked, “—to see me. Not like that.”

“Alright.” Alicent’s expression softened. “I don’t want to fight. Not tonight.” She sighed, placing the glass down and closing her eyes for a second. “I'm tired, Rhaenyra. Of everything. Of you. Of myself. If you're looking for a fight to make it make sense, it'll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Rhaenyra blinked. “Then what the fuck do you want, Alicent?”

Silence, filled only by the low hum of the city outside and the distant thrum of Rhaenyra’s pulse in her ears. Then: “Can I kiss you?”

It was almost too soft to hear. But Rhaenyra heard it anyway — clear, intentional.

“What?” she breathed.

“I just…” Alicent’s eyes didn’t waver. “I wanted to ask. You don't have to say yes.”

Rhaenyra stared at her like she didn’t recognize the woman in front of her. Like this was something hallowed. Something far more dangerous than anything Otto could ever throw at them.

“You’re asking me.”

“I am.”

“Why?”

Alicent’s voice didn’t shake. “Because I don’t want to take anymore. Not without asking.”

Fuck. That nearly undid her. Rhaenyra took another step forward. Just one. Enough to close the distance without touching her. Her voice was barely above a whisper when she replied.

“Then ask again,” Rhaenyra whispered, pupils blown.

Alicent’s eyes held Rhaenyra’s, steady and unyielding, but there was a tremor in them, a vulnerability that stripped away the CEO, the armor, the distance. “Can I kiss you?” she asked again, softer this time, like a prayer she wasn’t sure would be answered.

It hit her harder than the first time.

Rhaenyra’s breath caught, her heart slamming against her ribs. 

She didn’t trust herself to speak, didn’t trust the words to come out right, so she just nodded — quick, sharp, like she was afraid she’d change her mind if she waited too long. Alicent stepped closer, bare feet silent on the floor, her silk robe brushing against Rhaenyra’s damp shirt as she closed the space. The air between them was electric, heavy with rain and want and all the things that happened.

Alicent’s hand lifted, hesitant at first, then steady as her fingers grazed Rhaenyra’s jaw, tilting her face down just slightly.

Rhaenyra’s eyes fluttered shut, and then Alicent was kissing her, slow, deliberate, like she was savoring every second, as if she was afraid it might be the last. It wasn’t the desperate crash of their earlier nights, not the frantic need to burn through the tension. This was something else, something that felt like a question and an answer all at once.

Rhaenyra groaned softly, her hands finding Alicent’s waist, pulling her closer until there was no space left, until the cold of her wet clothes met the warmth of Alicent’s skin. The kiss deepened, Alicent’s tongue brushing against hers, and Rhaenyra felt it like a spark, igniting something deep in her chest. Her fingers tightened, slipping under the hem of Alicent’s nightdress, finding soft, warm skin, and she gasped into her mouth, hands sliding into Rhaenyra’s hair, tugging just enough to make her head spin.

They moved without thinking, stumbling backward, clumsy. Rhaenyra’s boots hit the floor with a dull thud as she kicked them off, her soaked shirt peeling away and landing somewhere in the living room, forgotten. Alicent’s camisole followed, tugged over her head in a single, fluid motion, leaving a trail of silk and cotton behind them like breadcrumbs leading to ruin. Rhaenyra’s blazer was still slung over the chair, dripping quietly, but neither of them cared, not when Alicent’s hands were on her, pulling her toward the bedroom with a quiet, desperate urgency.

The door to Alicent’s bedroom swung open, and they didn’t bother with the lights. 

The city glow spilled through the tall windows, painting everything in soft blues and golds, Alicent’s skin, the curve of her collarbone, her tits, the way her hair caught the light as she pulled Rhaenyra down onto the bed. 

The mattress dipped under their weight, and Rhaenyra braced herself above Alicent, her hands on either side of her head, breath ragged as she looked down at her.

“You’re still wet,” Alicent murmured, her voice low, teasing, but her fingers were gentle as they traced the line of Rhaenyra’s jaw, brushing away a stray drop of rainwater.

“You’re still talking,” Rhaenyra shot back, her lips curving into a smirk, but it was shaky, too raw to hide how much this moment was wrecking her. 

She leaned down, kissing Alicent again, slower this time, tasting her, memorizing the way her lips parted, the way her breath hitched when Rhaenyra’s hand slid down her side, fingers grazing the edge of her underwear. She didn’t want to rush this, didn’t want to lose the way Alicent was looking at her, like she was something worth seeing, something worth keeping. Rhaenyra’s lips found Alicent’s throat, kissing the pulse that raced beneath her skin, then lower, tracing the curve of her collarbone, the swell of her breast.

Rhaenyra's tongue was precise, well-versed in all the ways to force a moan out of her. She took Alicent's nipple into her mouth, pulling it with her teeth, reveling in the sound that filled the room.

Alicent’s touch was deliberate, unhurried, her knuckles grazing Rhaenyra’s hips as she undid the button, the zipper, each small movement sending a shiver through Rhaenyra’s already frayed nerves. She tugged the fabric down, Rhaenyra lifting her hips to help, and the trousers slid off, pooling at the edge of the bed before Alicent pushed them away, forgotten.

Alicent’s hands returned, warm against Rhaenyra’s now-bare thighs, and she paused, her eyes flicking up to meet Rhaenyra’s. 

There was something in her gaze — want, yes, but also a quiet intensity, a question she didn’t voice, but Rhaenyra felt anyway. She nodded, just a small dip of her chin, and Alicent’s lips curved, soft and fleeting, before she leaned in, her mouth finding Rhaenyra’s cheek, kissing away the last traces of rain that clung to her skin.

She moved across Rhaenyra’s face: her temple, the curve of her jaw, the corner of her mouth, each one deliberate, like she was mapping her, claiming her in a way that felt more intimate than anything they’d done before. Rhaenyra’s eyes fluttered shut, her hands flexing against the sheets, fighting the urge to pull Alicent closer, to speed this up, make her scream, because this — this slow, careful worship — was unraveling her in ways she hadn’t expected.

“You’re shaking,” Alicent murmured against her skin, her lips brushing the edge of Rhaenyra’s cheekbone, and there was a trace of amusement in her voice.

“Shut up,” Rhaenyra managed, but it came out breathless, half a laugh, and she felt Alicent’s smile against her face, warm and real.

Her hands slid over her body, fingers tracing the lines of Rhaenyra’s ribs, the curve of her waist, until they found the hem of her boxers. She didn’t hurry, didn’t pull, just let her fingers linger there, teasing, as she kissed Rhaenyra’s forehead, then her eyelids, soft and deliberate. And then her hands moved, slipping Rhaenyra’s underwear down with a tenderness that made her chest ache. The fabric joined the rest of their clothes, lost somewhere in the dark, and Alicent’s lips found Rhaenyra’s again, slipping away to kiss her face once more, cheeks, nose, the space between her brows.

“I need you. With me,” she gasped, her voice breaking on the words, not a command but not a plea either, eyes locking onto Rhaenyra’s with a desperation that stripped them both bare.

Rhaenyra nodded, voice rough with desire. “I’m here.”

She reached between them, using her pointer and middle fingers to open Alicent up, exposing her. Rhaenyra's fingers shook slightly as they moved, parting Alicent with a gentleness that belied the urgency taking over. They didn't have time for foreplay, nor the patience for it.

Alicent’s breath hitched, her hips shifting instinctively as Rhaenyra opened her up, their bodies aligning in a way that felt like gravity, inevitable and consuming. Rhaenyra’s arousal was evident, slick and warm, and as their hips pressed together, it spilled onto Alicent, a slow trickle that made her clit throb under the contact. She moaned, the sound raw and unguarded, her head falling back against the pillow, auburn hair fanning out around her face. Her hands gripped Rhaenyra’s shoulders, nails digging into skin, anchoring herself as the sensation overwhelmed her.

A spark that spread, wildfire-fast, through every nerve.

Rhaenyra’s fingers stayed between them, steady but vexing, keeping Alicent open as they moved, the pressure and friction building with every slow grind.

Fuck.

Her brain froze for a second, Rhaenyra’s name echoing inside her head over and over and over again.

Alicent closed her eyes, just for a second, because she had learned that in the two months they'd been sleeping together, Rhaenyra Targaryen liked eye contact. It was so horrendously sexy, this, feeling Rhaenyra's weight on her, nipples rubbing together as they moved, hands searching, their swollen folds meeting again and again, wet and searing, the obscene slide of skin on skin.

Alicent’s moans grew sharper, her thighs trembling as Rhaenyra’s arousal coated her, the intimacy of it almost too much — raw, messy, real in a way that made her heart stutter as much as her body. Rhaenyra braced herself above Alicent, one hand gripping the mattress, her arm trembling with the effort to stay steady. 

She watched Alicent’s face, memorizing every detail, the flutter of her lashes, the way her lips parted on each gasp, the faint crease in her brow as pleasure built. Alicent was unraveling beneath her, and Rhaenyra was captivated, consumed, the cause and the witness to her undoing. 

She leaned down, lips grazing Alicent’s throat, kissing the frantic pulse there, tasting salt and need as their hips rocked faster, chasing release in tandem, cunts grinding against each other.

“Are you close?” Rhaenyra murmured, her voice a low rasp against Alicent’s ear, warm and intimate.

Alicent’s arms wound around Rhaenyra’s neck, pulling her tight. “Yes,” she breathed, her voice breaking on a moan, and Rhaenyra felt it — the subtle twitch of Alicent’s muscles, the way her body opened and clenched as their clits rubbed together, swollen and relentless.

“Good,” Rhaenyra said, her own breath labored, her body straining to hold back her climax. She wanted this to linger, wanted to savor every second of Alicent falling apart, to be woven into the fabric of her pleasure. 

She shifted, grinding harder, faster, the tension coiling tighter, a shared precipice they were both hurtling toward; and then Rhaenyra’s fingers found Alicent’s clit, circling with slow, deliberate pressure, coaxing her higher.

Alicent cursed, eyes wide, body arching off the bed, as the sensation overwhelmed her, too much and not enough all at once. Rhaenyra didn’t falter, her fingers steady, her hips unrelenting, and when Alicent came, it was with a soft, broken whimper, her body shaking, hands grasping at Rhaenyra’s arms, legs tightening around her waist. She was raw, exposed, breathtakingly open in that moment, and Rhaenyra followed almost instantly, her own release crashing through her, head dropping to Alicent’s shoulder as she shuddered, her orgasm wavering over her, their breaths tangling in the quiet.

Except Rhaenyra didn’t stop. She moved her hips once again, firmer. “Rhaenyra…” Alicent tried to protest, “I already…” 

“You can do it again,” Rhaenyra said, her voice firm, authoritative. “I know you can.” 

The sudden stimulation made her whimper, her body tensing, her legs quivering. In the aftermath of climax, even the smallest touch was overwhelming. 

Alicent’s body jerked, trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure, but Rhaenyra kept her grip firm, her movements relentless. Rhaenyra whimpered, hips thrusting forward, grinding down with delicious pressure. It was almost too much, too sensitive, pain masquerading as pleasure as Rhaenyra continued to push Alicent to the edge, to force another orgasm out. But at the same time, there was something almost addictive about it, some kind of twisted satisfaction in being utterly overcome. 

It was overwhelming in the best way. 

Alicent’s fingers dug into Rhaenyra’s shoulders, her body trembling as she fought to keep herself together. Rhaenyra reached for her hands, grabbing both of them and pinning them above her head. Every muscle in her body felt on the point of snapping. Unable to do anything, Alicent bit down on Rhaenyra’s shoulder, hard, teeth sinking into muscle leaving an ugly purple bruise behind.

Rhaenyra gasped, the pain blending with pleasure, the sensation sending a jolt straight to her pussy. The feel of Alicent’s teeth against her skin drove her on, adding fuel to the flame within her. She didn’t let up, if anything, her touch grew even rougher, firmer, as she pressed her hips harder, faster, determined to bring Alicent to the edge again. Rhaenyra wanted to hear her cry out, to see her come once more, to be the one to push her over the precipice.

She was at her limit, unable to handle the flood of pleasure that Rhaenyra was forcing upon her. Alicent whimpered, the sound a mix of pleasure and pain, her body too sensitive to withstand the onslaught. 

“Rhaenyra…”

“Be a good girl,” Rhaenyra replied, her words punctuated by each thrust of her hips. “You can give me another one, can’t you?”

Alicent’s breath hitched, her body betraying her protests as it arched into Rhaenyra’s touch. “Fuck, Rhaenyra—” she choked out, half-curse, half-surrender. “Don’t stop.”

“That’s it,” Rhaenyra whispered, her lips brushing Alicent’s throat, teeth grazing just enough to sting.

And then it hit — a rush of heat, a gush of liquid that spilled between them, catching Alicent by surprise, wetting the bed, her body shuddering with the force of it. She’d never felt anything like it, the release raw and unguarded, a vulnerability that left her breathless, and she forgot how to breathe. Rhaenyra groaned, the slick warmth coating her skin — her stomach, her hips, her thighs — its intimacy overwhelming, filthy and beautiful in its honesty. Her own orgasm followed suit, but it paled in comparison, overshadowed by the sight of Alicent, open and trembling, giving herself over completely.

Rhaenyra's movements slowed after a moment, her touch softening, transitioning from rough to gentle. She leaned down, kissing Alicent's face, her neck, her shoulders, whispering soothing words of praise in between kisses. 

"You did so good," she whispered, her fingers pushing away the sweat-stuck hair from Alicent’s forehead, tracing idle patterns on her body, like she was a canvas and Rhaenyra was attempting to paint herself into the empty spaces. 

Alicent remained boneless beneath her.

Rhaenyra rolled off her with a graceless flop, landing on the mattress beside her and immediately twisting sideways to avoid the damp, sex-slick mess they'd left in the center of the bed. Thankfully, Alicent’s taste in sheets matched her neuroses — expensive, crisp, and on a king-sized mattress big enough to survive their immorality with minimal collateral damage. They lay there for a few minutes, limbs loose and lungs slowly recovering, the room thick with the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward. Just full.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” she said, her voice amused, but there was a hint of something else there, something like wonder, like awe.

“Neither did I.” If no one had ever died of shame, Alicent Hightower would be the first one to do it.

Rhaenyra reached out, tracing the blush spreading on Alicent's cheeks with a single fingertip. "Don't be embarrassed," she said. "It's honestly one of the hottest things I've ever seen." She paused, her lips twitching as a thought bubbled up, her head tilting to catch Alicent’s gaze again.

She just laid there — strategically avoiding the wet spot in the middle of the bed, staring at the ceiling while Rhaenyra stared at her, wishing, praying for the Seven that the entire building would come crashing down with both of them inside it.

“Can I ask you something, though?”

Alicent hummed, a soft, affirmative sound, rolling onto her side to mirror Rhaenyra, their faces now inches apart on the rumpled sheets. “Go on,” she said, her voice warm but laced with a hint of wariness, like she knew Rhaenyra’s questions never came without a catch.

“How’d you do it…” She trailed off, smirking, not needing to spell it out. Alicent’s eyes widened, and a flush roared back to her cheeks, pinker than the dawn.

“Oh, fuck me,” Alicent groaned, snatching a pillow and burying her face in it like she could hide from the memory. “Really, Rhaenyra? Really ?”

Rhaenyra chuckled, reaching out to tug the pillow away, her touch insistent. Alicent resisted for half a second before letting it go, her face still blazing, her lips pressed into a pout that was equal parts mortified and adorable. Rhaenyra’s heart did a stupid little flip — she’d seen Alicent commanding boardrooms, sharp as a blade, but this? This flustered, pillow-hiding version? 

Devastatingly cute.

“Hey, no hiding,” she teased, tossing the pillow aside. “I’m serious. I need details. How’d you pull off… you know, the grand fountain finale?”

Alicent’s groan was muffled by her hands now, covering her face. “I’m going to kill myself…” Alicent whispered the words to herself. “I don’t know ,” she admitted, voice soft and strained, peeking through her fingers like Rhaenyra was the sun and she wasn’t ready to look. “It just— Gods, it just happened . Okay? I was trying to keep it in, and then I… couldn’t. It was like my body said, ‘Screw it, let’s make a spectacle.’”

Rhaenyra’s laugh was loud, delighted, her head tipping back against the mattress. 

“A spectacle? Alicent, you’re a goddamn masterpiece.” She propped herself up higher, grinning like a cat who’d caught the canary. “I mean, I’ve seen some things, but that? Top-tier performance art.”

“Stop it,” Alicent said, swatting at Rhaenyra’s arm, but her lips twitched, betraying a smile she couldn’t quite smother. “You’re awful. Why are you like this?”

“Because it’s fun,” Rhaenyra shot back, catching Alicent’s wrist before she could pull away, her thumb brushing lightly against her pulse. “And because you blushing like a sunburned tomato is my new favorite hobby.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, but the flush deepened, and she didn’t yank her wrist free. 

“I can’t believe I let you see that.”

“Let me?” Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow, leaning closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Baby, I was front-row for the show, and I’d buy tickets again in a heartbeat. That was…” She paused, letting her gaze roam over Alicent’s face, lingering on the way her teeth caught her lower lip, nervously perfect. “Fucking incredible.”

Alicent’s breath hitched, and for a second, she looked like she might bolt or laugh or both. Instead, she shoved at Rhaenyra’s shoulder, half-hearted, her own laugh breaking free — small, shaky, but real.

“You’re ridiculous,” she said, but her eyes were bright, crinkling at the corners, and Rhaenyra felt a tug in her chest, sharp and warm.

“I’m right ,” Rhaenyra countered, flopping back onto the mattress, one arm tucked behind her head, her grin unrepentant. “Admit it, Hightower. You’re a little proud of yourself.”

Alicent snorted, shifting to face her fully, her blush fading but her eyes still sparkling with that mix of exasperation and amusement only Rhaenyra could pull from her. “Proud? Of traumatizing myself in front of you? Hard pass.”

“Traumatizing?” Rhaenyra gasped, mock-offended, clutching her chest. “Alicent. That was a gift, and you’re out here acting like it was a crime scene.”

“It felt like one,” she said, but she was laughing now, open and unguarded, her hand resting on Rhaenyra’s arm, fingers lingering like she didn’t want to let go. “You’re never letting me live this down, are you?”

Rhaenyra’s grin softened, her free hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind Alicent’s ear, her touch lingering. “Not a chance,” she said, voice quieter now, laced with something tender that snuck up on them both. “But only because I want every excuse to see you like this again.”

Alicent’s lips parted, her retort dying as she met Rhaenyra’s gaze, the air between them shifting, warm and heavy with something unspoken.

Rhaenyra felt it first in the way the air stilled.

The moment settled, quiet between them, the kind of quiet that asked for a choice. Not spoken, not demanded — but offered. She was halfway off the bed by then, legs swinging to the floor, already reaching for her boxers, when she heard it.

“Don’t go.”

A breath. Soft. Almost a secret.

Rhaenyra froze.

Her fingers hovered over the fabric. She didn’t turn, didn’t speak, just waited. Because sometimes waiting said more than words ever could. Behind her, the sheets rustled. Alicent sat up slowly, hair mussed, eyes wide in the dimness, like she couldn’t believe she’d said it either.

But she didn’t take it back.

“I mean…” Alicent started, then paused, fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. “You can. If you want. I just…” She swallowed. Looked away. Then back. “I don’t want you to.”

The boxers slipped from Rhaenyra’s fingers.

That was new. That wasn’t quid pro quo. That wasn’t their careful dance of power, trading barbs and nights and walking away before anything softened enough to leave a mark. That was asking.

And Rhaenyra — she’d been waiting to be asked. She turned, slow and quiet, and the expression on her face wasn’t smug or cocky or teasing. It was something gentler, something more dangerous. Her eyes traced Alicent’s face like she was trying to memorize the exact shape of this moment.

“Okay,” she said simply.

She crawled back into bed, lifting the covers without a word, settling beside her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Alicent blinked. “You don’t have to—”

“I know.”

They didn’t kiss again. Didn’t reach for more.

Alicent just shifted closer until her forehead pressed against Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and Rhaenyra’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her in like she belonged there. Like she’d always belonged there.

“Careful,” Rhaenyra murmured, her voice low, teasing, lips brushing Alicent’s forehead. “One wrong move, and we’re swimming.”

"Find a ledge, Rhaenyra." Alicent said, hugging Rhaenyra tighter and closing her eyes.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra woke to an empty bed. The sheets cool and twisted around her legs, Alicent’s absence a quiet ache in the stillness.

Morning light crept through the tall windows, soft and gray, like the day hadn’t committed to beginning just yet. Much like the rest of her house, Alicent’s bedroom was exactly what Rhaenyra expected and, somehow, not at all. Elegant. Impeccably kept. Everything in its right place: crisp linens tucked with surgical precision, silk curtains pulled just enough to let the light in. But there were other things, too. Ones that Rhaenyra could’ve guessed. A stack of paperbacks on the dresser that didn’t quite belong, spines cracked, corners folded. A tiny dish of mismatched rings and hair ties by the vanity. 

And of course, she had been here countless times before, but never quite like this. Never alone, never in the morning after. The room felt different, the walls taller, somehow.

She sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes, silver hair a tangled mess as she scanned the room. No Alicent, no warmth beside her. Just the faint indent on the pillow and a lingering trace of lavender. Her clothes gone. No sign of the rain-soaked shirt she’d shed last night, no trousers crumpled by the bed, not even her underwear made an appearance.

The absence felt oddly deliberate, like Alicent had erased her trail, and Rhaenyra’s lips quivered upward, caught in between amusement and something like unease. She swung her legs over the bed, hardwood cold under her bare feet, and walked over to Alicent’s dresser. After a moment’s rummaging, – because, well, she had earned the right to snoop through Alicent’s drawers, hadn’t she? – Rhaenyra found her own boxers, slightly creased from some forgotten night long ago, and tugged them on. A soft gray T-shirt lay nearby, one of Alicent’s, folded way too neatly to be chance.

Rhaenyra slipped it over her head, the fabric loose, brushing her thighs, carrying the faint scent of Alicent’s laundry detergent, the same one she smelled in the sheets, like a memory Rhaenyra could wear. It felt like a claim, subtle but undeniable, and she let herself get loose in it, fingers tracing over the hem, rubbing at the seam. It was a nice shirt. Probably designer, though Rhaenyra couldn’t see any logos. 

As she turned to leave, Rhaenyra's hip nudged the dresser, jostling the stack of books, the kind Alicent read late at night when she thought no one noticed.

One teetered, a slim novel, and something slipped from its pages, drifting to the floor. 

A Polaroid.

Rhaenyra’s breath hitched as she crouched to retrieve it, heart lurching when she saw herself, asleep on Alicent’s couch, sprawled loose-limbed, one hand tucked under her cheek, silver hair fanned across a cushion. The light in the photo was warm, intimate, catching her in a moment she didn’t remember, a moment she hadn’t chosen to give. Her first instinct was a flare of violation, a sharp sting of privacy stolen. When had Alicent taken this? Why? But it didn’t hold.

Instead, a quiet fondness bloomed, warm and disarming, softening the borders of her shock. The photo’s edges were worn, handled often, probably from Alicent running her fingers over it, tucked like a treasure in her book; and Rhaenyra couldn’t muster anger, only a strange, aching warmth at being seen so softly, so secretly.

Her pulse skipped, unsteady, and she hesitated, thumb brushing the Polaroid’s edge much like Alicent probably did. She should’ve felt betrayed, exposed, but all she could think about was how the redhead must’ve looked at her then–close enough to capture this, yet careful enough to keep it hidden, to give it a purpose.

Rhaenyra swallowed, sliding the photo back between the pages, aligning it precisely, like disturbing it would unravel something. She stood, exhaling a shaky breath, and made her way out of the bedroom, bare feet whispering on the hardwood. The apartment was too quiet, but a faint clinking of dishes and the warm scent of coffee drifted from the kitchen, tugging her forward, heart still tangled inside her chest.

Why? Her brain kept repeating. Why? Why? Why?

Rhaenyra lingered in the doorway once she reached the kitchen.

For a moment, she just looked. 

Alicent stood at the counter, back to her, the dim morning light making her hair glow a deep, coppery brown. She was wearing an oversized sweater, sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and a pair of loose linen pants that looked too soft to be real. It was almost domestic, the way she leaned over her laptop, brow furrowed in concentration, a half-empty cup of coffee beside her. 

And for a brief, horrifying second, Rhaenyra imagined this as something real. As something normal. Something she could claim as hers. 

Waking up here. Seeing Alicent like this. Walking up behind her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder, murmuring some lazy, sleepy good morning against her skin. The thought hit her like vertigo. It made her feel a little sick, she wasn’t allowed to imagine such things. Rhaenyra cleared her throat, crushing it fast. Alicent glanced up, looking entirely unsurprised to see her standing there, bare-footed and wearing the shirt she had specifically left out for her.

“You slept late.”

Rhaenyra smirked as if she wasn’t loosing her fucking mind and crossed her arms as she leaned against the doorframe. “You wore me out, Hightower.”

She huffed, unimpressed. “Not as much as you’d like to think.”

Rhaenyra laughed, stepping further into the kitchen. The counter was littered with papers… contracts, from the look of them. Of course, Alicent had gotten up early to work. “Could’ve woken me,” Rhaenyra said, stealing a sip from Alicent’s coffee as she walked past her.

Alicent shot her a look but didn’t stop her. “Didn’t think you’d want to be.” Something in her tone made Rhaenyra pause. She set the cup down, tilting her head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alicent didn’t look up. 

“Nothing.” 

Rhaenyra frowned. “Alicent—”

“It’s nothing, Rhaenyra.” That was a lie, but Rhaenyra let it slide. For now.

She looked at the papers scattered across the counter, brows lifting. “Work, already?” 

Alicent’s glare was half-hearted now. “I put your clothes in the washer. They’re almost done drying.” Her tone was casual, but there was a warmth beneath it, like she’d folded Rhaenyra’s mess with care, not duty.

Rhaenyra paused mid-motion, mug at her lips, a grin creeping up. “What’s this? You, doing my laundry? Watch out, I could get comfy.” Rhaenyra hoped Alicent couldn't notice how her fingers were shaking.

“Don’t,” Alicent said, dry as ash, but her lips twitched, caught. She jabbed at her laptop, dodging Rhaenyra’s eyes. “Clothes tend to mold if you leave them wet like that. Unlike you, I just have an admirable sense of responsibility.”

“Responsability,” Rhaenyra echoed, hopping onto the counter, legs swinging over the edge. “And yet, you still found time to fuck me stupid last night.”

Alicent closed her laptop with a loud thud. “Must you be so vulgar?!”

“Must you be so uptight?” She countered. Alicent looked as if she wanted to kill Rhaenyra, which she did, most days, but it didn’t land with the same effect this time around. Rhaenyra just smiled. The air softened, their edges blurring, worn smooth by the light. Or maybe just… changed. She still didn’t know what to do with that. So instead, Rhaenyra stole another sip of Alicent’s coffee, leaned back on her palms, and asked with that same easy smirk, “Do I at least get breakfast before I’m kicked out?”

Alicent sighed, rubbing her temples. “I’m not a monster.”

“Debatable.”

Alicent shot her one last withering look before turning towards the stove, setting her laptop aside with a sigh and muttering something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like a prayer for patience.

Rhaenyra watched as she moved around the kitchen with practiced efficiency, pulling out eggs and bread, setting a pan on the stove. It was a quiet kind of domesticity, one that didn’t suit the Alicent she knew—the one who threw sharp words like knives, who clenched her jaw so tight Rhaenyra thought it might snap, who carried herself like a woman constantly on the edge of a battlefield. And yet, here she was. Making breakfast. Barefoot, hair still slightly mussed from sleep, sleeves pushed up as she cracked an egg one-handed into the pan. Rhaenyra swallowed. She had to look away.

Because it still felt like stepping into something she wasn’t allowed to see. Being here under circumstances that didn’t involve sex or a fight. This weird softness pressing up Rhaenyra’s sternum, which was an odd place on her body to feel anything. They'd gone into silence again, the only sounds the faint sizzle of eggs and the occasional clatter of a utensil. Rhaenyra still drowning inside her own head.

Alicent pushed a plate toward Rhaenyra once she was done: eggs scrambled soft, toast golden, a smear of butter catching the light. Rhaenyra dug in, fork scraping, stealing glances at Alicent, who ate neatly, precise even in this. She wasn’t hungry, not really, but the eggs were perfect, fluffy, and Rhaenyra had to swallow a smile alongside her food. “Didn’t peg you for a chef.”

Alicent shrugged, chewing a corner of toast. “It’s just eggs.”

“Good eggs,” Rhaenyra said, pointing her fork, mouth half-full. “You’re holding out on me.”

Alicent’s lips twitched, almost a smile. “Eat, or I’ll take it back.”

Rhaenyra grinned, taking another bite, the warmth of the food settling together with something else that felt a lot like belonging. They ate quietly, the clink of forks and occasional sip of coffee the only sounds, the city’s hum a faint backdrop.

When the plates were cleared, Rhaenyra leaned back, wiping her mouth with a napkin.

“Are you sleeping with other people?" Alicent asked bluntly. Rhaenyra frowned, almost falling off the counter, and Alicent blushed at the implication. "Not that I care, obviously." She did. "But we're–you know. And I want to know if I have the risk of catching… something." 

Rhaenya stared at her, taken aback. The question caught her off guard, but there was something else in Alicent's expression, too. A hint of what looked curiously like jealousy. "I'm not sleeping with anyone." She said, the words coming out rougher than she'd meant. "Besides you, of course." A beat, as they stared at each other.

But then Alicent surprised her further by saying, "Are there any that you'd like to, though?" 

Rhaenyra's smirk faltered, replaced by a look of surprise. Was Alicent jealous? Of the mere idea? It was enough to give Rhaenyra a thrill she didn't recognize. Nor felt before. "No." The word was out before she could stop it, a little too sharp, a little too honest. She took another sip of her coffee, trying to play it cool. "No one."

"Alright." She said, pushing herself off the counter. "Me neither."

Rhaenyra should’ve let the thing die then, but instead, Rhaenyra, ever the menace, leaned against the counter and smirked.

“So,” she said, voice dripping with amusement. “Are we calling this exclusive, then?” 

Alicent scoffed, opening the fridge just so she wouldn’t have to look at Rhaenyra’s face. “Oh, shut up.”

“I mean, I think it’s only fair,” Rhaenyra continued, undeterred. “If I’m not sleeping with anyone else and you’re not sleeping with anyone else—”

Alicent turned, holding a carton of milk in one hand, the other planted on her hip. “That does not mean we are exclusive.”

Rhaenyra tsked.

“Right. Of course. Just, you know, two people who have sex regularly, only with each other, spend the night together, have breakfast the next morning—”

“Rhaenyra.”

“Yes, dearest ?”

Alicent’s jaw tightened. “Would you like milk in your coffee or would you like to be forcibly removed from my apartment?”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, considering. “Tough choice. But I’ll take the milk.” Alicent muttered something under her breath again, definitely a curse this time, pouring a splash into Rhaenyra’s mug, her ears red as sin. Rhaenyra’s smile split wide. “You’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” Alicent snapped, but the carton wobbled, and Rhaenyra laughed, bright and sharp.

“Oh, you’re a neon sign right now. Ears practically on fire.” Rhaenyra took a slow sip, eyes twinkling. “You know, if you wanted to keep me all to yourself, you could’ve just said so.”

Alicent nearly choked on her coffee. “I do not—”

“Oh, it’s alright. I get it,” she continued, all false sympathy. “You were probably lying awake last night, staring at the ceiling, dreading the possibility of me leaving this bed for someone else.” Rhaenyra sighed dramatically. “How ever did you sleep?” 

Alicent slammed her mug onto the counter. “You are so obnoxious.” 

“You keep letting me in.” Rhaenyra beamed.

Alicent didn’t reply. Rhaenyra watched her with something softer behind her amusement. She hadn’t stayed the night before. Not like this. Not where the morning felt just as warm. And maybe Alicent wasn’t ready to call it anything, wasn’t ready to admit how much she cared. But Rhaenyra could see it, clear as day, in the way she blushed, in the way she had said me neither like it mattered. And gods, wasn’t that something?

Rhaenyra drummed her fingers against her coffee mug, watching Alicent with the smug satisfaction of someone who knew exactly how insufferable they were. “So,” she said, dragging out the syllable. “Be honest—did you spend all morning worrying about me sneaking out?” 

Alicent exhaled sharply, wondering at what point her life went downhill. “Yes, Rhaenyra. That’s exactly what kept me up all night. Not work. Not stress. Not my crumbling will to live. You .”

“Good to know I’m your biggest problem.”

“You’re certainly the most persistent one.”

“Persistent,” Rhaenyra mused. “Huh. I like that. Sounds determined. Romantic, even.” She smiled. “You’re saying I’m the charming protagonist who just won’t give up on the girl of her dreams?”

Alicent rolled her eyes. “I’m saying you’re a pain in my ass.”

Rhaenyra leaned in, lowering her voice to something teasing, suggestive. “Funny. That’s not usually where I—”

Alicent slapped a hand over her mouth. “Stop talking.”

Rhaenyra laughed against her palm, eyes gleaming with mischief. Alicent tried to keep her glare steady, but her lips twitched, and Rhaenyra saw it.

“Oh gods,” Rhaenyra gasped, holding Alicent’s wrist as she pushed her hand away. “Was that a smile? Are you—are you laughing at my terrible joke?”

“No,” Alicent said immediately.

“You so are.” Alicent shook her head, but her shoulders were shaking, and her face was quickly turning an alarming shade of pink. Rhaenyra seized her moment, pushing forward until their noses almost brushed. “You like me,” she sing-songed. “Admit it. You like me.” Alicent was still laughing helplessly, her face scrunched in a way that made Rhaenyra’s chest ache.

Before she could think, Rhaenyra tugged her by the wrist, closed the gap, and kissed her. Easy, natural, like breathing, like they’d done it a thousand times without consequence. Alicent froze, lips parted, a soft noise caught in her throat, and Rhaenyra realized it way too late: they’d never kissed like this. Not without heat, without it igniting something raw and urgent. This was soft, unguarded, and it terrified her.

And the worst? Alicent didn’t pull away. Not immediately, at least.

She stayed still, she kissed back, she fucking lingered. When they finally broke apart, Alicent blinked, still halfway dazed from the kiss; lips parted, breath shallow, and Rhaenyra did not move. Didn’t dare. She felt hot all over, her blood suddenly loud inside her veins, screaming Alicent’s name.

“Did you just…?” Alicent started, voice shaky, brown eyes searching.

Rhaenyra’s smile was dumb. Really dumb. The kind of smile that took up her entire face and made her nose scrunch slightly. That made her look like a teenager high off her first real crush. “Yeah,” she said softly. “I did.”

A beat. “You’re such an idiot.”

Rhaenyra’s lips grew wider, utterly ruined. And Alicent… smiled. A real one. Small. Stupid. Quiet. Rhaenyra’s heart stumbled. Her face dropped.

Oh.

Oh.

Because suddenly, it wasn’t funny anymore. It wasn’t a game or a bit or another round of their endlessly convoluted push-and-pull. Lifelong enemies to having sex, then enemies again. This was real . This was soft mornings and laundry and little kisses over breakfast and being looked at like maybe — maybe — she was someone worth keeping.

And Rhaenyra, for all her bluster, her bravado, her fucking hubris was terrified .

“Shit,” she muttered.

Alicent’s brows furrowed. “What?”

Rhaenyra blinked. “Nothing. Just—uh, just remembered I…” She stumbled over her words. “I left my phone in the, uh—laundry.” She was already stepping back, tripping a little over her own feet as she turned around. “Gonna… yeah. Gonna grab my trousers.” And my dignity. “Be right back.”

“Rhaenyra?” Alicent called after her, confused.

But Rhaenyra was already halfway down the hall, barefoot, heart pounding, hands shaking slightly as she made her awkward retreat to the laundry room, because she needed to get out of there. Fast . Before she forgot how to breathe. Before she did something really stupid. Like telling Alicent Hightower she loved her.

With trembling fingers, Rhaenyra slipped into her pants, still warm from the dryer, put her boots on, and bolted for the door. And she didn’t look back, didn’t call out a goodbye, didn’t let herself glance at the kitchen where Alicent might still be standing, frozen in the wreckage of that kiss. The door clicked shut behind her, soft but final, and she stepped into the gray morning, King's Landing swallowing her whole. Her heart was still pounding, the Polaroid’s weight burning in her mind, and she walked faster, as if she could outrun the ache of leaving, the fear of what that kiss might have meant, and the sinking certainty that she was running from the one thing she wanted most.

And so she walked until her lungs hurt and her feet went numb, heading home to the Targaryen estate, the sprawling, old-money mansion that always felt too big for her liking.

She didn’t live here so much as exist in it — like a ghost haunting her own childhood.

“I'm back,” she called, not expecting an answer.

She didn’t get one.

But a soft scuffling came from the hallway, then the thudding patter of paws. A blur of gold darted toward her. Syrax, tail flicking like a banner of triumph. She circled Rhaenyra’s legs in tight, demanding figure-eights, chirping indignantly, the feline equivalent of where the fuck have you been?

“Gods,” Rhaenyra muttered, crouching. Syrax headbutted her knee, then her hand, her whole body vibrating with a purr that felt too loud for the cold marble floors. “I was gone for one night.”

Syrax meowed louder, either offended or vindicated. It was hard to tell. Rhaenyra buried her fingers in soft fur, let her forehead rest against the cat’s for a beat longer than necessary. The warmth grounded her, soothed the sting of the morning she’d just left behind. Eventually, Syrax let her up, though not without a final tail-swat to the back of her calves as Rhaenyra stood. She padded through the house barefoot, the quiet echoing her own fatigue. 

Upstairs, the sun filtered in through gauzy curtains, painting the hallway in pale gold. Her bedroom was exactly as she’d left it, with rumpled sheets, scattered clothes, and a half-empty wine glass on her nightstand. Nothing touched. Nothing moved. The air inside still held that faint trace of sandalwood and ozone that always lingered after she lit her stupidly expensive candles.

She peeled off the T-shirt — Alicent’s — slowly, deliberately. Her fingers lingered at the hem. It still smelled like her. Rhaenyra hesitated, then folded it with more care than she’d ever shown her laundry and set it on the dresser. Not hidden, but not in plain sight either. 

Then came the long, meandering ritual of avoidance:

Rhaenyra ran the shower hotter than necessary, standing under the stream until her skin flushed pink and her thoughts ran too fast to follow. She washed her hair twice, brushed her teeth with lazy strokes, stared into the mirror like it might give her answers. It didn’t. Her eyes were still tired, lips kiss-bitten, and there was that damn bruise on her shoulder, purple and proud like it had something to say.

Back in her room, she stood towel-wrapped, damp hair dripping onto her shoulders, and scrolled aimlessly through her phone. No messages. None Rhaenyra wanted to answer, anyway. Aegon had texted something incomprehensible at 3 a.m., and Laena had sent her a meme that made her snort, but her thumb hovered over Alicent’s name, over the thread full of tension and unsent drafts.

She didn’t open it.

Instead, she dropped the phone face down and pulled on a pair of tailored black slacks like armor, followed by a white button-down that she didn’t bother to fully button. Gold chain around her neck. Heels optional, but today felt like a day for stomping. Syrax watched from the windowsill, tail flicking, as Rhaenyra slicked back her damp hair and applied her eyeliner with practiced indifference.

Work could wait. Let Otto stew a little longer. Let the world run a little colder without her for just another fifteen minutes.

She looked at herself in the mirror again, lips parting. For a second, she saw the girl in the Polaroid. The one who’d slept with her hand curled beneath her cheek, peaceful and unguarded. And then she blinked, and that softness was gone.  Rhaenyra exhaled, slow and sharp. Picked up her phone. Still no messages. She pocketed it, grabbed her keys, and turned to Syrax, who blinked at her like she knew every secret Rhaenyra wasn’t saying out loud.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” she murmured, brushing a hand down the cat’s spine. “Don’t burn the place down.”

Syrax meowed once, low and unimpressed.

To Rhaenyra’s shock, the day at the office didn’t implode. No meltdowns, no Otto lurking like a vulture with a vendetta, and, best of all, barely a glimpse of Alicent. She caught her once, a flash of something as she was turning to leave, and Rhaenyra’s heart did a stupid lurch, but that was it. 

No awkward hallway stares, no replay of that kitchen kiss to haunt her. 

She’d buried herself in emails and coffee, dodging the morning's ghost like a pro, and made it home to Syrax’s judgmental glare without cracking. Small victories, she thought, collapsing onto the couch, ignoring the cat’s you’re still a hot mess side-eye.

The weekend passed in a blur of self-inflicted misery. Rhaenyra holed up in the Targaryen estate, sprawled across her couch with Syrax draped over her chest like an overcritical weighted blanket. She’d texted Alicent some half-baked excuse about a “family thing” on Saturday morning, vague enough to avoid questions, plausible enough to leave some wiggle room. She didn’t want to see Alicent. She didn’t want to face the kitchen kiss, the Polaroid, or how her heart kept tripping over itself.

She'd stayed home, nursing a bottle of aged red from the wineseller, thinking about nothing and everything simultaneously. 

By Sunday night, Rhaenyra was done running. Not chasing, mind you, she wasn’t that far gone. Just… not running. She’d face Alicent. She’d walk into the office, all swagger and sharp edges, and pretend her pulse didn’t spike at the thought of auburn hair and a withering glare. 

Monday morning, she dressed like it was armor: black blazer, crisp white shirt, unbuttoned just enough to say I’m still me, and heels that clicked like a warning shot. She slicked her silver hair back, smeared on her signature eyeliner, and told Syrax, “Don’t wait up.” The cat yawned, unimpressed.

Hightower Publishing’s office buzzed with its usual Monday hum—phones ringing, keyboards clacking, the faint scent of overbrewed coffee lingering like regret. Rhaenyra slipped into her office early, door half-closed, and buried herself in paperwork.  She was at her desk, halfheartedly sorting contracts, redlining clauses that didn’t deserve her attention and letting her mind drift somewhere far from merger law and NDA clauses when the door creaked open without warning.

She didn’t look up, but her pen froze, spilling ink across the paper like a forming bruise. She could feel Alicent’s gaze, heavy and unyielding, pinning her to the chair. The door clicked shut, softer than it should’ve, and Rhaenyra’s stomach lurched. She forced her eyes to stay on the page, scribbling nonsense to look busy.

“You’re avoiding me,” Alicent said, voice low, cutting through the silence like a blade. Not a question. A fact.

Rhaenyra’s lips twitched, that insufferable smirk creeping up before she could stop it. She leaned back in her chair, tossing the pen onto the desk with a clatter, and finally met Alicent’s eyes. Big mistake. Alicent stood by the door, arms crossed, dressed in a deep emerald pencil dress that hugged her like it had a personal vendetta. Her hair was pulled back, not a strand out of place, but her eyes—those brown, endless eyes—were a storm. Annoyed, yes, but something else too.“Me? Avoiding you ?” Rhaenyra drawled, tilting her head, all mock innocence. “Hightower, I’ve been right here, slaving away for your empire.” She cleared her throat. Kept her face neutral. “You know,” Rhaenyra said casually, “most people knock.”

Alicent didn’t miss a beat. “I don’t need to knock. It’s my company.”

“Good for you.” Rhaenyra let out a small, humorless huff of a laugh.

Alicent exhaled through her nose, a sound that was half-sigh, half-laugh. She stepped forward, heels clicking like a countdown, and Rhaenyra’s heart did that stupid thing again, hammering against her ribs like it wanted out. Alicent stopped at the edge of the desk, close enough that Rhaenyra caught the faint scent of her perfume.

“You didn’t answer my texts,” Alicent said, quieter now, her voice a tight wire. “You fed me some nonsense about a family emergency, and then you disappeared.”

Rhaenyra shrugged, leaning back further, arms crossing to mirror Alicent’s stance. “Had a busy weekend. You know, Targaryen drama. Dragons, betrayals, the usual.” She winked, because of course she did, because being insufferable was her default setting when she was scared shitless.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she reached into the pocket of her dress, fingers moving with that deliberate precision Rhaenyra both hated and craved. She pulled out a small velvet box, deep navy, the kind that screamed expensive before you even opened it. Rhaenyra’s smirk faltered, her breath catching like a snag in silk.

“Celebratory gift,” came Alicent’s voice, calm, too careful.

“Didn’t know we were celebrating.”

“We were supposed to,” Alicent said, voice quieter now. “For the Veritas Press deal. Before it got delayed. Before… everything.” Her voice softened, and she sounded almost shy, if Alicent Hightower was even capable of shyness. As if she were embarrassed by this thing, this gift was delayed by nearly three months. "Open it before I change my mind." There was something strangely vulnerable in the way Alicent stood there, arms crossed, weight shifting just slightly like she was regretting this already. 

Curious now, Rhaenyra tore into the packaging with the enthusiasm of a child on name day, revealing a sleek silver pen with her initials engraved on the side. Inside was a pen. Not just any pen—custom-made, heavy, elegant, its black lacquer body catching the light like polished obsidian. Her initials, R.T., were engraved in delicate silver script along the side, glinting like a secret. Rhaenyra’s throat tightened. It was beautiful, thoughtful, the kind of gift that said I see you in a way that felt like Alicent had just handed her heart on a platter and said, Here, don’t break it.

“Wow,” she said, flipping it between her fingers. “This is, um—” 

“Professional,” She cut in quickly, like she was trying to sidestep any deeper meaning. “You take terrible notes, Rhaenyra. I figured if you’re going to be scribbling nonsense all over important documents, you should at least do it in style.” 

Rhaenyra huffed out a laugh, shaking her head. “So this is a passive-aggressive gift.” 

“Obviously.” 

A beat. 

Then Rhaenyra, because she was Rhaenyra, waggled her eyebrows. 

“Well, since it’s so professional, does that mean I should only use it for work-related things?”

Alicent groaned, rubbing her temples. “Gods, just say thank you.” 

“Oh, I plan on thanking you,” Rhaenyra said, twirling the pen dramatically, and she tried hiding the fact that she was melting. Rhaenyra would thank her, alright. With her mouth, and her fingers, and whatever else Alicent wanted. Rhaenyra twirled the pen between her digits, pretending she wasn’t affected, pretending her heart wasn’t still doing something ridiculous in her chest, this time over a fucking pen. Then, because she was constitutionally incapable of handling sincerity like a normal person, she said, “So, does this mean we’re in a committed pen-monogamous relationship now?” 

Alicent groaned. “Give it back.” 

Rhaenyra snatched the pen to her chest. “Fuck you. Absolutely not. You gave it to me. It’s mine now. We’re bonded for life.” 

“I should’ve gotten you something impersonal,” Alicent muttered, “A stapler.” 

“Oh, please, I’d still find a way to make that suggestive.” 

“I have no doubt.”

A pause. Rhaenyra rolled the pen between her palms, unsure what to do with her hands, gaze flickering to Alicent’s face. “No one’s ever given me something like this before.” 

Alicent hesitated, her expression softening for just a fraction of a second before she schooled it back into neutrality. “Well,” she said, clearing her throat, “maybe they should have.” 

It was such an Alicent thing to say—practical, unsentimental, but under it, there was something Rhaenyra wanted to pick apart, to dig her fingers into. 

Rhaenyra clicked the pen, once, twice, a nervous tic she hadn’t even known she had. “Careful, Hightower,” she murmured, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually like me.”

Alicent gave her an exasperated look, but her cheeks betrayed her, blooming pink. “I don’t,” she said, far too quickly.

Rhaenyra grinned. “Liar.”

Alicent exhaled sharply, turning away as if this conversation physically pained her. “Do you ever shut up?”

“Not when I’m having this much fun.”

She expected Alicent to roll her eyes, to bite back with some sharp remark, but instead, she just shook her head, amused, something close to fond, and Rhaenyra… Rhaenyra felt it settle in her ribs, an ache, a hunger, something she hadn’t let herself want in years.

She swallowed hard, gripping the pen like it was the only thing tethering her to the ground. “Thanks,” she said finally, and it came out rough, sincere despite herself.

Alicent looked at her then, really looked at her, and for a second, Rhaenyra thought she might say something to shatter whatever strange truce they’d found. But she just gave the smallest nod, making her way to the door.

“Try not to lose it,” she said, voice dry. “I know how careless you are with your things.”

“Not this one,” she said under her breath. Not this one. Rhaenyra should’ve stopped there, should’ve let the moment pass, but her mouth had other plans, and her heart was a reckless bastard. “Go to dinner with me,” she blurted, the words spilling out before she could catch them. Alicent’s eyes widened, just a fraction, and Rhaenyra’s brain screamed backpedal, you fucking idiot . “Not, like, a date ,” she added quickly, hands waving like she could erase the implication. “Just… dinner. You know, food. Plates. Maybe some wine. To, uh, celebrate the deal. Properly.”

Alicent stared at her, unblinking, and for a horrifying second, Rhaenyra thought she’d laugh or, worse, say no. But then Alicent’s lips pressed into a thin line, like she was fighting something—anger, amusement, or maybe that same terrifying softness from the kitchen. She crossed her arms tighter, the velvet box still sitting between them like a loaded gun.

“Dinner,” Alicent repeated, slow, like she was testing the word for traps. “You’re asking me to dinner.”

Rhaenyra leaned back, forcing a smirk to cover the panic clawing at her insides. “Yeah, Hightower. Dinner. Don’t make it weird.”

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, but there was a spark there, something warm and dangerous. “You’re the one making it weird,” she shot back, but her voice was softer now, almost playful. She tapped a finger against her arm, considering, and Rhaenyra’s heart hung in the balance, teetering like that damn novel on Alicent’s dresser. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” She said, holding up her hands, pen still dangling between her fingers. “Unless you count me maybe trying for second base before dessert. But that’s, like, a thousand percent optional.”

Alicent’s mouth dropped open, a strangled sound escaping before she clapped a hand over it, half-laugh, half-horror. “You’re disgusting,” she said, but her shoulders were shaking, and the flush on her face was creeping down her neck.

“Disgustingly charming,” Rhaenyra corrected, winking. “So? Say yes before I start begging. You don’t want to see me on my knees in this office. Or… maybe you do.”

“Stop,” Alicent groaned, pressing her fingers to her temples like she could physically block Rhaenyra’s voice. She stood there, torn, her gaze flicking between Rhaenyra’s infuriating smirk and the door, like she was weighing the consequences of staying another second. Then, finally, she sighed. A long, defeated sound that felt like victory to Rhaenyra. “Fine,” she said, barely audible. 

“There’s this place. Blackwater Bistro, down by the waterfront. Eight o’clock. They do a mean lobster ravioli, and the view’s almost as good as me.”

Alicent arched a brow, unimpressed but not retreating just yet. “High praise.”

“I’m a generous critic,” Rhaenyra said, voice dipping low, teasing. “Wear something nice. Not that you own anything that isn’t, but, you know. Make me suffer a little.”

Alicent’s lips twitched, caught between a scoff and a smile, and Rhaenyra felt something warm bloom in her chest at the sight. “Don’t push your luck,” Alicent muttered, turning toward the door, but she paused, glancing back over her shoulder. “And Rhaenyra?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t wear that ridiculous half-unbuttoned shirt. You look like a frat boy.”

Rhaenyra laughed, loud and bright, the sound chasing Alicent out of the room as the door clicked shut. She leaned back in her chair, spinning the pen between her fingers, its weight grounding her even as her heart raced. Dinner. Not a date. Just dinner. But gods, it felt like something else entirely, and Rhaenyra was too far gone to pretend she didn’t want it to be.

Rhaenyra’s bedroom was a disaster of her own making, clothes strewn across every surface like the aftermath of a sartorial explosion. A silk blouse hung precariously from a lampshade, black slacks were crumpled on the floor, and a single stiletto lay abandoned by the door, its partner nowhere in sight. She burst out of her closet, silver hair a tangled storm, clutching a navy dress in one hand and a leather jacket in the other, her face a mix of determination and sheer panic. 

Half her shirt was untucked, buttons mismatched, and her eyeliner was smudged from rubbing her eyes one too many times.

Syrax, sprawled on the bed like a furry monarch, watched the chaos with her usual disdain, golden eyes narrowing as Rhaenyra tripped over a stray belt and cursed under her breath. The cat’s tail flicked once, a silent judgment sharper than any words.

“Don’t you dare ,” Rhaenyra muttered, pointing the dress at Syrax like it was a sword. “This is not a date, okay? It’s dinner. Colleagues, who occasionally make out but that’s fine. Normal people eat food together without losing their minds.” She tossed the dress onto the bed, where it landed on a pile of rejected tops, and yanked a crimson blazer from the closet. “What even is this? Did I steal this from Laena? Why do I own this?”

Syrax yawned, slow and theatrical, her whiskers twitching as if to say, You’re embarrassing yourself.

Rhaenyra groaned, hurling the blazer into the growing pile and pacing to the mirror. “It’s not a date,” she told her reflection for the ninth time, fumbling with a button that refused to cooperate. 

“It’s just Alicent. Who I’ve slept with. A lot. And who fights me like we’re starring in some unhinged gladiator drama.” She paused, catching Syrax’s stare in the glass. “Oh, shut up, you don’t get it. You’re too busy licking your own ass to understand a toxic situationship.”

Syrax turned her head pointedly, presenting her back with the grace of someone who’d heard enough.

Rhaenyra flopped onto the bed beside the cat, the pile of clothes shifting under her weight. “Look,” she said, softer now, scratching Syrax’s head absentmindedly. “She gave me a pen, okay? A pen.” She fished the sleek lacquer thing from her pocket, holding it up like it was evidence in a trial. “Look at this thing. It’s got my initials on it. Who does that? Alicent, that’s who. And now I’m freaking out because it’s so… adult. So her.”

The cat flicked her tail, knocking the pen onto the floor with a soft clink. Rhaenyra gasped, mock-offended. “You little traitor! That’s at least a million bucks you just lobbed!” She leaned over to retrieve it, still rambling.

“It’s not like she gave me jewelry or, I don’t know, her heart on a platter. It’s a pen. Practical. Cold. Like she spent hours picking it out while pretending it was no big deal. And now I’m supposed to sit across from her at dinner and not think about it? Impossible.” Rhaenyra paused. “It’s because she’s being nice, isn’t it? Like, actually nice. And now I don’t know how to act.”

The cat let out a low, unimpressed chirp, like even she could see this was spiraling.

“I can’t show up to a not-a-date dinner and say ‘thanks for the pen, wanna go halfsies on a future?’ That’s insane.” Syrax stretched, her claws flexing into the duvet, utterly unmoved.

Rhaenyra sighed, collapsing back, the pen clutched to her chest. “I can’t call Laena,” she muttered. “She’d cackle until the end of time. ‘Rhaenyra Targaryen, undone by a stationary fetish?’ I’d never live it down.” 

She turned her head, meeting Syrax’s judgmental stare. “You’re no help either. What am I supposed to wear? She’s gonna show up in one of those stupidly perfect blouses, all high-necked and untouchable, and I’ll say something dumb, and she’ll do that lip-purse thing that makes me want to climb her like a tree.”

“I know,” Rhaenyra groaned, dragging her hands down her face, further smudging her eyeliner. “It’s insane. We’ve had sex, Syrax. Like, a lot. I’ve been knuckles deep in that woman. Sorry, you don’t need the details. Point is, I’ve seen her naked, and a pen is what’s got me spiraling? Breakfast, too. She made me eggs. Perfect, fluffy eggs. That’s basically a marriage proposal in Alicent terms.”

Syrax flopped onto her side, her belly exposed—a trap Rhaenyra knew better than to fall for. 

“Nice try,” she muttered, poking the cat’s paw instead. “I’m not losing a hand today.” She sat up, grabbing a black silk shirt from the pile and holding it up. “This? Too sexy? Too ‘I’m trying to get laid’? Because I’m not. Ok, maybe I am. But it’s not a date.” She tossed it aside, snatching a white linen shirt instead. “This is safer. Boring. Professional. Except it’s wrinkled, because of course it is.”

After much spiraling, Rhaenyra finally settled on an outfit: the black silk shirt with a deep neckline, tailored slacks that hugged her just right, and sleek ankle boots—slutty but tasteful, exactly as she’d planned. 

She checked herself in the mirror one last time, slicked back her silver hair, and ignored Syrax’s final judgmental glance before heading out. 

Determined to keep her cool, she arrived at Blackwater Bistro a whole 20 minutes early, her heart doing that stutter as she scanned the waterfront restaurant for Alicent, the glow of the lights reflecting off the water making her feel both giddy and slightly unmoored.

Alicent hadn’t shown up yet. But that’s fine. She was early, anyways.

Rhaenyra chose the corner table, the one with the best view of the water, where the lights danced like promises on the surface. She waited, heart tripping over itself, scanning the room for Alicent’s telltale copper hair, her sharp silhouette. The waiter had come by twice—first with water, then with a pitying glance when she waved off the wine list, saying she was waiting.

The clock on her phone ticked past eight. 

Then eight-fifteen. 

Eight-thirty. 

No Alicent. No call, no text, not even a curt email to cancel. Nothing. 

Rhaenyra’s fingers drummed the table, the silver pen in her pocket heavy as a stone. She checked her phone again, refreshing the screen like it might summon something, anything. The restaurant hummed around her, couples laughing, glasses clinking, the world moving on while she sat frozen, the giddy spark in her chest curdling into something sharp and hollow.

And by nine, the waiter stopped coming.

Rhaenyra stared at the empty chair across from her, the untouched water glass sweating onto the tablecloth. She’d told herself it wasn’t a date, repeated it like a mantra, but the lie felt flimsy now, exposed under the soft glow of the bistro’s lights. Alicent hadn’t shown up. Hadn’t cared enough to. 

Nine forty-five.

The Polaroid, the pen, the breakfast eggs—all those fragile threads Rhaenyra had woven into something like hope snapped one by one, leaving her raw, unraveling.

She stood, legs unsteady, and tossed a few bills on the table for the waiter’s trouble. Her smirk was gone, replaced by a tight-lipped grimace as she stepped into the night, the waterfront breeze cold against her skin. She didn’t look back at the bistro, didn’t check her phone again. The ache in her chest wasn’t anger, not yet, just a quiet, bruising hurt, like a fist closing around her heart, squeezing until it cracked.

Rhaenyra stumbled back to the Targaryen estate, she doesn’t remember the drive. The silence of the sprawling mansion swallowing her whole. She kicked off her boots, let her jacket fall in a heap, and collapsed onto the bed, Syrax’s soft quirp the only greeting. Her phone stayed untouched, no missed calls, no texts, just the weight of Alicent’s absence pressing harder with every breath. 

Her heart felt like it had been carved out with a dull knife, crushed, splintered, left bleeding on the polished floor of that stupid bistro. She didn’t cry, but her chest felt like it might cave in, heavy with a hurt she couldn’t name. 

Rhaenyra didn’t sleep. Not really. She closed her eyes a few times, but no more than that. Her brain didn’t stop. Refused to stop. Maybe something happened, Rheanyra reasoned, but Alicent would’ve said something. A text, a call, anything. This wasn’t that. This was careless.

Morning came, gray and unforgiving. Rhaenyra called in sick, her voice a ghost over the phone, the lie tasting like ash. 

She wasn’t ill, not in any way a doctor could fix, but her body ached like it was carrying a fever, grief masquerading as exhaustion, betrayal sinking into her bones. Rhaenyra stayed on the bed, Syrax a warm weight against her, the mansion’s silence a mirror to the emptiness inside her. The pen sat on the bedside table now, catching the gray light filtering through the windows, its engraved initials mocking her. She couldn’t look at it for long. 

By noon, a knock shattered the quiet, sharp and insistent. 

She didn’t hear the knock at first. It was soft, hesitant, barely audible over the city’s distant pulse and Syrax’s insistent purring. But it came again, sharper, and Rhaenyra’s head snapped up. She froze, heart lurching, then stumbled to the door, bare feet cold on the marble.

She opened it, and there was Alicent, red-eyed, shivering in a coat too thin for the chill, her auburn hair damp from the drizzle outside. Her face was a ruin of sleeplessness and tears, no makeup, no armor, her usual sharp edges softened into something broken, something that made Rhaenyra’s heart twist even as it hardened.

They stared at each other for a while. Unsure what to do.

“Alicent? What the fuck— Who let you in?” Rhaenyra’s voice was raw, scraped thin by the night’s wounds, her arms crossed tight to keep herself from reaching out or falling apart.

“Helaena,” Alicent whispered, her gaze flickering with a desperate, fragile hope. “She was leaving when I got here. She didn’t ask questions.”

“Of course she didn’t.” Rhaenyra’s laugh was bitter, a jagged thing that cut her throat on the way out. She leaned against the doorframe, blocking the way in, her eyes cold despite the fire raging inside. “What do you want, Alicent? Come to twist the knife a little deeper?”

Alicent flinched, her lips parting, but no words came. She pulled one hand from her coat, and Rhaenyra’s breath caught—a manila envelope, creased and slightly crumpled, clutched in her shaking fingers. Alicent held it out, her eyes finally lifting, and gods, they were a wreck, brimming with tears that hadn’t fallen yet, raw and unguarded in a way Rhaenyra had never seen.

“I came to explain,” she said, her voice trembling but resolute, like she was clinging to the words to keep from drowning. “Last night. I didn’t mean to leave you there. I didn’t want to. Otto… he found out.”

Rhaenyra’s stomach lurched, but she didn’t move, didn’t soften. “Found out what?” she asked, her tone flat, daring Alicent to say it.

“About us.” Alicent’s voice broke, barely above a whisper. “After the Vaemond thing, he got suspicious. You, me, the late nights, the… everything. He hired a PI. Followed us. Took photos.” She shoved the envelope into Rhaenyra’s hands, her fingers brushing Rhaenyra’s for a fleeting second, cold and trembling. “He came to my apartment. Showed me these.”

Rhaenyra’s hands shook as she opened the envelope, her pulse a deafening roar in her ears. Photos spilled out—grainy, but unmistakable. Her and Alicent in the office, too close, her hand on Alicent’s wrist during a late-night argument. Another outside Alicent’s apartment, Rhaenyra’s smirk as she leaned in, their foreheads almost touching. A third, the worst, from that night she stayed over for the first time, Alicent’s hands in her hair, their lips locked in a kiss that felt like the world ending and beginning all at once. 

Rhaenyra’s throat closed, her vision blurring. Each photo was a violation, a moment stolen and weaponized, and she wanted to burn them, to burn Otto, to burn the whole fucking world for daring to touch this.

“He’s transferring me,” Alicent said, her voice hollow, like she’d already given up. “To Oldtown. Tomorrow.”

The word hit like a sledgehammer. “Tomorrow?” Rhaenyra’s voice was too loud, too raw, echoing in the foyer. Syrax hissed from the couch, startled. “What the fuck do you mean, tomorrow? He can’t just—”

“He can,” Alicent cut in, sharp and bitter. “He’s Otto Hightower. He owns the board, the company, my life. He made it clear: either I go, or he leaks these. To the press, to the shareholders, to Viserys. He’ll ruin you, Rhaenyra. He’ll ruin us both.”

Rhaenyra’s hands clenched around the photos, crumpling them. “Fuck him. Let him try. I’m a Targaryen, Alicent. He doesn’t get to—”

“You don’t get it!” Alicent’s voice cracked like glass, tears spilling now, hot and fast down her cheeks. “This isn’t about you! It’s about me, my career, my family, everything I’ve bled for. I can’t—” She choked, pressing a hand to her mouth, her whole body shaking. “I can’t lose this.”

Rhaenyra’s heart stuttered, a flash of fear cutting through the anger, but she shoved it down, her jaw tightening. “So you ran to Daddy,” she spat, the words venomous, each one a blade aimed at Alicent’s chest. “He dangled his proof, and you chose him. Like you always do. Tell me, was it worth it? Leaving me there, waiting, while you played the good daughter?”

“No!” The words hit Rhaenyra like a punch, stealing her breath, her fury faltering for a heartbeat before it roared back, hotter, wilder. Alicent’s face crumpled, her shoulders hunching as if Rhaenyra’s words were blows. “That’s not true,” she whispered, but it sounded like a plea, like she was begging herself to believe it. She faltered, her breath shuddering, then forced the words out, each one a shard of glass. “This is me, loving you the only way I know how.”

Rhaenyra froze, the air sucked from the room, her heart splintering under the weight of those words. They hung between them, fragile and devastating, a confession wrapped in thorns. Loving you. She wanted to scream, to laugh, to grab Alicent and shake her until the world made sense again. But all she could feel was the ache, the betrayal, the years of wanting something Alicent could never give her. Not fully, not without running.

Loving you.

Just two words.

They were everything she’d wanted, everything she’d dreamed of in the quiet moments. Alicent’s hand in hers, her laugh in the morning, a life where they didn’t have to hide. But they were poison, too, twisted by the reality of this, of Otto, of Alicent’s choice to run. Rhaenyra’s heart screamed to pull her close, to kiss the tears from her face, but the hurt was louder, a roaring tide that drowned everything else.

She stepped back, pointing to the door, her hand trembling so badly she could barely keep it steady. “Get out.”

Alicent’s breath hitched, her eyes wide, pleading, searching Rhaenyra’s face for a crack, a way back in. “Rhaenyra, please,” she whispered, her voice breaking, tears streaming freely now. “Don’t do this. Let me—”

“Get out!” Rhaenyra’s shout echoed, raw and final, cutting through the air like a blade. She turned away, unable to look at Alicent’s face, at the devastation she’d caused, at the love she’d confessed only to bury. Her hands clenched, nails biting into her palms, the pain grounding her just enough to keep from breaking entirely.

Alicent stood there, frozen, her sobs quiet but relentless, each one a knife twisting deeper in Rhaenyra’s heart. Then, slowly, she moved, her steps unsteady, her coat brushing the floor like a whisper of surrender. The door clicked shut behind her, soft but deafening, and Rhaenyra sank to the floor, her back sliding down the wall, her knees curling to her chest.

Rhaenyra didn't yell. Didn’t break anything. She wanted to, but didn’t.

Just sat there, staring at the pen on the table, its silver glint blurred by the tears she couldn’t hold back anymore. Syrax padded over, nudging her hand, but Rhaenyra barely felt it. The mansion was too big, too empty, and the ache in her chest was a living thing, clawing, screaming, tearing her apart. She’d wanted Alicent for so long, had turned every glance, every touch, every fragile moment into something she thought could last. But it hadn’t. 

It never would. 

And now, all she had was the ghost of cedarwood and lavender, the memory of a Polaroid, and a pen that felt like a goodbye she hadn’t been ready to hear. Rhaenyra just stayed there, for a while, until exhaustion caught up to her.

Chapter Text

The days started to bleed together after that night. 

A dull gray haze of routine and regret that smothered Rhaenyra like a damp cloth. And Rhaenyra didn’t think it would hit her that hard, the inevitable break of whatever they were. And for the first time in her entire life, Rhaenyra Targaryen was naive. 

Naive enough to believe that taking away what she wanted for so long, so desperately, wouldn’t shatter her completely.

She tried clawing her way back to the old Rhaenyra (the one who thrived on whiskey, late nights, and fleeting people), tried forcing herself into a mold she'd since outgrown.

It didn't work. Nothing did.

Rhaenyra tried drinking, hitting the bars in King's Landing. But the lights were too bright and the music too loud. She hated the conversation and the noise. The whiskey burned but didn't soothe, nor did it blur the edges of her memory, of Alicent's tear-streaked face and broken confessions — This is me, loving you the only way I know how. It just made Rhaenyra's head throb, stumbling home to a cold, empty bed, and Alicent's shirt, unwashed still, but it didn’t smell like her anymore.

She tried fucking around, too. Slept with a junior associate from Lannister Group. A marketing exec from Yronwood. A stranger she didn’t bother naming. They were all beautiful. Soft-skinned. Willing. But none of them had a sharp tongue or the habit of biting down on her shoulder when they came. None of them knew how to press their forehead to hers after, to kiss like Rhaenyra might disappear, hold her just so.

There was this one time, the woman's name was Maris, or maybe Mara, Rhaenyra didn't ask her to repeat it. She had red hair — bright, not auburn — the kind that looked like it came from a bottle, not blood. Her lips were painted a sharp, glossy red. Rhaenyra liked red, she thought. But her dress was tighter than it needed to be. Her laugh, louder than Rhaenyra usually liked. But she had nice hands. Warm. Eager.

And Rhaenyra needed someone .

They stumbled through the front door of her bedroom in a flurry of hands and heat. Clothes half-on, half-off. Mouths crashing in a way that was meant to feel like desire. It didn’t. Rhaenyra let Maris press her back against the wall, let her kiss her like she was drowning, but it didn't feel the same. She responded on instinct, allowed her hands to wander, tugged Maris' dress up, pulled her hips foward. She made the right noises and said the right things. You're so hot. I want you. Fuck, right there. They didn't land. It was autopilot.

She slipped her hand inside Maris’ underwear, circling her fingers once, twice, and she almost forgot about the whole thing.

But the second Maris moaned, high and breathy, almost performative, something in Rhaenyra’s stomach twisted. That’s not how she sounds. Alicent's sounds were quieter. Rawer. Like she was embarrassed to make them. 

Every gasp was dragged out of her against her will. She bit down when it got too much. Alicent swore under her breath. She pulled hair. Clawed skin. Left bruises. Didn’t ask for permission. Maris kissed like she wanted to be worshipped. Alicent kissed like she wanted to be ruined, like she was bracing herself for regret or she might die otherwise.

Rhaenyra’s hands slowed. Her breath caught. She tried to force herself back into it, dragged her nails down Maris’ back, tried to find the heat again. But it kept slipping. Her body felt far away, like she was watching it happen to someone else. A stranger in her own skin. Maris whispered something — “fuck, you’re good at this” or maybe “fuck me just like that” — and Rhaenyra flinched.

Alicent didn’t say things like that.

She bit. She ordered. She teased. She didn’t praise. Not like that, anyway. When Alicent came, she didn’t speak.

Rhaenyra let out a shaky breath, forehead pressed against Maris’ shoulder, her hands stilling entirely. “I can’t,” Rhaenyra said.

Maris paused. “What?”

She pulled back. “I can’t do this.”

The silence stretched. Maris looked confused, a little offended, but not heartbroken. Just… inconvenienced. “Seriously?”

Rhaenyra nodded, already reaching for her shirt. “Yeah. Sorry.”

Maris scoffed and started gathering her things. Rhaenyra didn’t watch her leave. She felt nothing, sitting down on the edge of her couch, half-undressed and aching. No hurt, no embarrassment. She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and laughed. Bitter. Hollow. Rhaenyra had someone warm in her arms less than five minutes ago. And still she had never felt more alone.

Rhaenyra stopped sleeping around after that.

So, no drinking. No fucking. Right.

Work became her only anchor, a vicious lifeline she held to until her hands bled. When nothing else worked, Rhaenyra became quiet. The kind of quiet that made people around her uneasy. At the office, she showed up on time. Earlier, even. Her clothes were sharp. Hair pulled back. Nails freshly done. Her inbox never had more than five unread emails. She cc’d the right people, submitted everything early, left no room for error. No one knew what to make of it.

“Rhaenyra,” Baela said carefully on the third day, after a particularly brutal meeting, “you know you don’t have to—”

“I do,” she replied flatly. And that was the end of it.

She stayed late that night, the city’s skyline glittering through her office window, her desk littered with coffee cups and Post-its, her eyes burning from the screen’s glare. Exhaustion was a friend, soothing the ache in her chest, but even that betrayed her, leaving Rhaenyra slumped in her chair, staring at the pen Alicent had given her, its silver initials mocking in the lamplight.

It was past midnight when the words on Rhaenyra's computer screen stopped making sense entirely, contracts blurred into abstract shapes, and sentences lost their bones. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, stood too fast, and regretted it. Vertigo got to her, Rhaenyra stumbling against her desk.

The pen clattered onto the floor.

She didn’t pick it up. It didn’t matter anymore.

Instead, Rhaenyra wandered.

Slipped out of her office like a ghost, barefoot and silent in the dim hallway. The motion sensor lights flickered to life one by one, casting long shadows on the marble as she padded down the corridor, past silent doors and half-forgotten ambitions. She knew where she was going. Knew she shouldn’t.

Alicent’s office was dark.

Of course it was.

Still, Rhaenyra tried the door. It wasn’t locked. The room was cold. Impersonal in a way it hadn’t always been, stripped of warmth and scent and anything resembling her. And Alicent’s office wasn’t necessarily a beacon of warmth and personal touches, but it was still hers in a way this wasn’t. Rhaenyra stood there for a moment, not moving, barely breathing, as if she stayed still long enough, something might shift. A trick of memory. A scent in the air. Anything.

But nothing. 

The desk was clean, unnaturally so. No pens. No hand cream. No mug with leftover coffee Alicent always forgot to drink before it turned cold. No scarf draped over the chair. No lingering perfume clinging to the upholstery. Not even a rogue paperclip. Rhaenyra crossed the room slowly, steps making no noise at all. She opened a drawer. Then another. Empty. Files removed. Personal items cleared. Like she’d never been there at all.

She stood behind the desk and sat in the chair, just to see what it felt like. Just to imagine her. Rhaenyra stayed there for a long time, staring out the same window Alicent used to. The skyline hadn’t changed. But everything else had.

Alicent tried calling after their fight. Once. Then twice. The first voicemail was short, uncertain. 

“Rhaenyra, I just— I wanted to say I’m—” Click. 

The second one came a day later, her voice hoarse from lack of sleep.  

“Hey. I just landed.” A pause. Then static. A heavy intake of breath. “I know you hate me. You should. But please, don’t shut me out. Just… let me explain, properly — ” Click.

Rhaenyra didn’t listen to the rest. She deleted the voicemails before they finished. Blocked the number, then went right back to work. But right now, sitting in Alicent's — well, not Alicent’s anymore — office, for the first time since that night, Rhaenyra let herself miss her. Not the fighting. Not the sex. Not even the challenge of it. Just her.

Her neuroses, her smile, the way her brain seemed to work perfectly in sync with the rest of her. She missed how Alicent pinched the bridge of her nose when she was overwhelmed, and her whole face relaxed the second Rhaenyra laid a hand over hers.

She missed the tension Alicent carried in her spine and the careful way she walked in heels. She missed the voice that could slice a boardroom in half and then go soft, so unbearably soft, when she said Rhaenyra’s name in the dark.

Missed endless, sad, brown eyes.

Rhaenyra most of all missed being known.

And not the version of her that the world saw — brilliant, messy, careless. But the careful version. The one she showed to almost no one.

The version who flinched at raised voices, who triple-checked the locks at night, who memorized staff birthdays and kept a running list of the books Daeron said he wanted for his nameday. The version who sent flowers to secretaries after tough weeks and wrote thank-you notes in her own slanted script. Alicent had seen her plan, obsess, spiral. How she could unravel herself in the quiet, trying to be good enough and never saying it out loud.

And maybe that’s what happens when you push too hard, when you run your mouth, when you guard your heart with teeth instead of tenderness. Maybe love leaves. Maybe it has to. But it didn't hurt any less.

Oldtown, meanwhile, was a cage. Alicent felt it from the moment she stepped off the plane, the air heavy with salt and history, the city’s ancient spires looming like sentinels judging her every move. Hightower Publishing’s Oldtown branch was a sleek, modern monstrosity, all polished floors and floor-to-ceiling windows, but it felt like a tomb. 

Her office was too big, too clean, every surface reflecting her own strained face back at her. The desk was bare except for a laptop, a stack of papers, and a single framed photo of Alicent, Gwayne, and Otto.

Her days were… boring, if anything. The work was repetitive; she instilled no fear here, no one knew Alicent Hightower, CEO, all they knew was Otto's daughter, and she held no real semblance of power. Sure, she'd bark orders, sign important documents, and do the same things over and over and over again.

Much like Rhaenyra, Alicent's exile forced her back to old ways; she started picking at her fingers again, silent, methodical, until the skin around her nails stung raw. It was a habit she’d broken—alongside the stutter in her voice, the way she used to apologize for existing too loudly, the need to earn every breath she took. But Oldtown had a way of shrinking her back into the girl she used to be. And Otto… well. Otto didn’t need to raise his voice. 

Shame did the work for him.

She kept her desk immaculate. Smiled when spoken to. Wore nude lipstick and navy blazers and the pearl earrings her mother left her. She performed competence so convincingly that even she started to believe it, some days. But at night, when the office emptied and the city’s lights glittered distant like stars, the mask cracked. She’d sit in her sterile corporate apartment, a glass of wine untouched on the counter, and stare at the walls, their cream paint too perfect, too empty.

No paperbacks with cracked spines, no mismatched rings in a dish, no trace of the life she’d left behind.

Rhaenyra’s absence was a bruise that never seemed to heal, only grow, pressed into every quiet moment. Alicent could still see her, silver hair spilling across her couch, smirking like she owned the world, voice sharp and teasing: You’re adorable when you’re flustered.  

The memory burned, and Alicent would often press her fingers to her lips, as if she could trap the ghost of that kitchen kiss. She’d written the email three weeks after arriving, her hands shaking over the keyboard, each word a confession she couldn’t take back. I meant the part about loving you. No reply came, and the silence was worse than anger.

At least anger meant Rhaenyra was thinking about her, too.

Otto called daily, his voice clipped and commanding, checking her progress like she was a child with homework. 

“You’re proving yourself,” he’d say, as if her exile were a gift. “The board’s pleased.” 

Alicent wanted to scream, to hurl her phone across the room, but she nodded, her jaw tight, her responses measured. He’d hired a new assistant to “support” her — a wiry man named Addam, whose eyes lingered too long, his questions too pointed. She knew he reported back to Otto, every word a leash tightening around her throat.

The Oldtown staff whispered about her, their voices low but not low enough. 

Hightower’s daughter, sent to clean up our mess.  

Cold, isn’t she? Wonder what she did to get shipped out here.

Alicent ignored them, her heels clicking with purpose down the halls, but the words stung, piling onto the weight she carried. She missed Rhaenyra most of all, her insufferable grin, her reckless heart, the way she’d made Alicent feel alive in a way she hadn’t known she could.

Oldtown, by contrast, was quiet in a way King’s Landing never had been. Too quiet, sometimes. The kind of quiet that left no room for noise or distraction, only thought.

And Alicent had too much time to think.

It didn’t happen when Rhaenyra came back from university one summer, tall and sharp and suddenly a woman. That would have made sense. That would have been easier, to pin it on shock, on time, on the natural discomfort of watching someone grow after years apart.

But no. It was later.

Worse.

It was at Alicent’s engagement dinner.

She had just turned thirty. The excuse of focusing on her career had only carried Alicent so far, and when there were no more degrees to earn, no more perfecting the knowledge she had, the inevitable caught up to her.

The restaurant had been expensive, the guest list curated by Otto down to the last family friend. There were crystal flutes and bone china and quiet string music humming beneath the clatter of cutlery. Criston had smiled through the whole thing, ever the polished product of years of ambition, dressed in the kind of suit that said ‘future political asset but airhead nonetheless’. Everyone seemed to think they fit.

And then Rhaenyra had walked in, late, unabashed, loose-limbed, fucking smiling, like she didn’t owe anyone anything. Her dress had been black. Of course, it was black. Rhaenyra hadn't developed her personal style yet. And suddenly the whole room blurred around her. Not because Rhaenyra was beautiful. She was, but that wasn’t new. It wasn’t her mouth, or the line of her collarbone, or the way she’d said Alicent’s name like a taunt from across the table.

It was something else. It was the shift. The awareness.

The moment Alicent caught herself watching how Rhaenyra's fingers trailed the rim of her wine glass. The way she crossed and uncrossed her legs beneath the table. The way she spoke in low, lazy tones that tugged at something low in Alicent’s stomach.

It was electric. Unsettling.

It wasn’t about nostalgia. It wasn’t about the soft affection of the child she used to braid hair for, the girl who’d sneak into her room and ask to borrow lipstick. It was want. Physical. Terrifying. And the moment Alicent realized it, her skin went cold.

Because, sure, Rhaenyra was grown. Fully. Legally. Undeniably. But in Alicent’s mind, she still held the weight of a girl. That weight didn’t lift just because time had passed. That weight made her ashamed. And even if they’d spent more years apart than together — even if Rhaenyra wasn’t a child anymore — Alicent remembered her as one.

That night, after the final toast, after the guests dispersed and Criston leaned over to whisper something too smug against her cheek, Alicent smiled for the cameras and thanked everyone like she was supposed to.

And then she went home.

Straight to the bathroom.

And threw up.

Not dramatically. Not loudly.

Just knelt on the tile floor of the guest bathroom in her engagement dress, makeup still perfect, and gagged until her ribs ached. She curled forward, hair sticking to her temples, hands shaking. Criston knocked once. Gentle, concerned. She croaked out that she was fine. Just nerves. Too much champagne. Woman things. He bought it. Of course he did.

He didn’t know the nausea was shame. That the tremble in her hands wasn’t fear of marriage, but fear of herself. He didn’t know she’d spent half the night remembering the shape of Rhaenyra’s mouth, the line of her throat, the heat in her gaze.

He didn’t know she was rotting inside.

She told him she was tired. Said it sweetly, kissing his cheek just once, voice pitched low in that careful tone she’d perfected over the years — the one that soothed men without ever giving anything away. She didn’t want to have sex tonight, she said. Nerves, wine, the endless press of congratulations. A long day. A longer life ahead.

Criston nodded. Smiled like he understood. Gentlemanly. He always fucking understood, which only made it worse. He slipped into the en-suite to brush his teeth and give her space. So respectful. So perfectly molded.

Alicent peeled off her dress in silence. The zipper stuck at the bottom, and for a moment, she nearly cried from the frustration; not because of the dress, not really. But because she was standing there in the mirror, skin flushed, makeup now ruined, and all she could see was Rhaenyra.

And worse: how it made her want. Not fluttery schoolgirl yearning either.

The way she’d looked at her across the table. The way her eyes had lingered just a second too long. The way she’d smiled with her tongue against her teeth, like she knew. Like she’d known exactly what she was doing to Alicent. And maybe she had.

She changed into her nightgown, silk, modest, of course, and crawled under the covers with the man she was supposed to love. Criston slid in beside her and asked, “Are you sure you’re tired?”

Alicent hesitated. Her throat was dry. Her body thrummed. 

But then she turned to him. Because what else was there?

Criston kissed her, and she let him. She didn't open her mouth, nor close her eyes. But she let him tug down the strap of her gown. She rolled onto her back, watched him kiss her collarbone, her breasts, her stomach.

She thought about how Rhaenyra might kiss her. No patience, no shame. Maybe she’d bite. Maybe she’d laugh against her skin. Alicent imagined her hands, rougher, more curious. She imagined her mouth on her thighs, her voice saying let me taste you. 

She gasped, closed her eyes, and Criston smiled like it was for him.

He entered her gently. She didn’t flinch. It didn’t hurt. She was wet, ready — her body made sure of that. It betrayed her completely. And in her mind, it wasn’t him above her. It was Rhaenyra. Her hair loose. Her eyes dark. Her hands unkind in all the right ways. Rhaenyra’s body, lean and sharp and cruel, she wouldn’t be so gentle.

Rhaenyra would take whatever she wanted, and leave Alicent begging for more of her. She bit her lip, or else she might moan Rhaenyra’s name. Alicent held onto the thought — rode it all the way to something that looked like pleasure. She couldn't afford not to. Otherwise, it would break, and she'd remember. Where she was, who she was it. And she needed it.

Not the sex, not necessarily, certainly not Criston, but to get it out of her. This… thing.

After, he kissed her forehead, curled into her side like this meant something. She didn’t move. Alicent stared at the ceiling, heart still racing. Not from the (mildly satisfying) orgasm, not from the sex. From the wrongness of it. The ache of knowing her body could betray her so easily.

That night, lying next to a man who loved her in the way men love beautiful, quiet, acceptable women, Alicent made a decision. She’d buried it. All of it. The guilt. The heat. The sudden, impossible want. She shoved it down into the deepest part of herself and smothered it.

Because the alternative was unbearable.

Because the truth was worse than the lie.

Because wanting Rhaenyra meant ruining everything.

So she folded her hands over her stomach. Closed her eyes. And promised herself she would stay away. That she would look at Rhaenyra and feel nothing. And Alicent believed, truly, sincerely, that she was safe. That she had squandered every last thread of whatever insanity she felt. But it unraveled completely when they started working together. Or rather, when Rhaenyra had started working for her.

“So yeah, that's when it started.” She said, six weeks into her exile, when Alicent found herself in a therapist’s office, a secret she kept from Otto. The room was small, cluttered with books and a single potted plant, its leaves drooping like they knew her shame. Dr. Sargen, a gray-haired woman with kind eyes, asked questions Alicent couldn’t answer. 

Who are you when you’re not Otto’s daughter?  

Why force yourself into relationships with men if you always knew it was women?

Do you even want to own Hightower Publishing one day? 

Do you care about legacy?

What do you want, Alicent?  

“I’ve never told anyone this part before,” Alicent said, voice low.

Dr. Sargen didn’t move. She just nodded — the way she always did when Alicent was circling something she hadn’t said out loud yet. She didn't speak. She rarely did. That was part of why Alicent trusted her, not because she was warm (though she was), not because she listened (though she did), but because she never tried to fix it.

She listened.

“I sat at that table, next to him, with my hand on his, and I looked across the room and saw her. Rhaenyra. Late, of course. Laughing. And I thought—” Alicent swallowed. Her voice dropped. “That’s what I want.” Silence stretched. Dr. Sargen still didn’t speak. Just waited. “I felt it in my stomach,” Alicent continued. “Like heat. Like hunger. And it wasn’t innocent. It wasn’t soft. It was… specific.” She looked up then. Her eyes were glassy, but she wasn’t crying. “It felt like I’d ruined something.”

“Ruined what?” She spoke finally.

Alicent exhaled, long and shaky. “Her childhood. My memory of it. My sense of myself. I was eight years older. Engaged. I remembered her with skinned knees, watching me do my makeup. And now I was…” She broke off, stared hard at the wall. “I was having thoughts that didn’t belong to me.”

“And instead?” Dr. Sargen prompted.

“I went home and slept with him,” she said. “Criston. I always tried to avoid it, but that night I didn’t. I thought if I could simply… put that energy somewhere, it would disappear. I could stop wanting her.”

The therapist tilted her head. “What happened next?”

“I kept my distance,” Alicent continued. “I buried it. For years. Every time I looked at her, I forced myself to feel nothing. She thought I hated her. Maybe she was right.”

“Do you think you hated her?”

“No,” Alicent answered immediately. Then, softer: “Yes. Maybe. I hated what she made me feel. That I coulnd't… pretend, with her.”

Dr. Sargen set her notepad down. She didn’t lean in. She didn’t soften her voice. She didn’t rush to reassure. She just regarded Alicent with that steady, dry tone she always used.

“You’re not a predator,” the therapist put it simply. “You’re not reprehensible.”

Alicent let out a tight, breathless laugh. “Well, that’s nice, but I think I might be.”

“You’re not.”

“She was a child when I met her.”

“Yes. And she’s not a child now.”

“But I remember her as one.”

Dr. Sargen nodded. “And?”

Alicent blinked. “ And? That’s horrifying. I taught her how to braid her hair. I was there when she cried for her mother.”

“You also weren’t thinking about having intercourse with her back then,” Dr. Sargen answered bluntly.

Alicent flinched. “No,” she said. “Of course not.”

“Exactly. So what you’re feeling now is not some perversion. It’s new. It happened between two adults.” Dr. Sargen waited a beat, then added, tone unchanged: “But it’s my professional advice you start small. You’re not going to fix it all at once. The shame, the fear, the parts of yourself you’ve buried deep.”

“Small?”

“You’ve spent your whole life performing,” she explained. “For your father. For Criston. For the board. For women’s magazines and alumni newsletters and every person who expected you to be polished and palatable and pleasing.” A pause. “So don’t chase a revolution yet. Start with a rebellion.”

The words landed like a whip's popper, and Alicent’s hands twisted in her lap, her nails digging into her palms, nailbeds irritated and bloody. She didn’t know how to. She’d been a daughter, a CEO, a lover, but never just Alicent. 

The thought terrified her, but it also sparked something, a flicker of defiance, a need to find out.

So she started small.

Walks without her phone. Reading for pleasure again, not for market viability. She bought herself a peach at the farmers market and ate it on a park bench, juice running down her wrist, sticky and sweet and real in a way nothing had felt in months. She left her emails unopened for an entire Sunday and didn’t apologize. She bought a blue linen dress that Otto called frivolous and wore it anyway.

And when her fingers ached, when the urge to self-punish came crawling back in, she reached for lotion instead of blood. Rubbed it into her skin like tenderness could be earned.

She wasn’t healed. Not even fucking close to it.

But Alicent was trying. And for the first time in years, the trying wasn’t for someone else. Not for Otto. Not for the board. Not even for Rhaenyra. It was for her. And for now, it was enough.

Back in King’s Landing, Rhaenyra was crumbling in more elegant ways.

Her suits stayed sharp. Her posture straight. She even got promoted, believe it or not, quietly, with no fanfare, just a cold handshake from Lord Beesbury and a congratulatory email from some faceless name in HR. Everyone said she was thriving. She smiled when expected. Delivered wins in meetings. Held court like the daughter of a king. But Laena knew better. 

Rhaenyra was disintegrating in ways only she could see: Her bedroom was cleaner than it had ever been. That was the first clue. Everything folded, labeled, filed. Books arranged alphabetically, the throw pillows on the couch never touched. Syrax had stopped trying to curl up in her lap. Even the cat knew something was wrong.

“I’m staging an intervention,” Laena said one evening, barging into Rhaenyra’s office without knocking. “Do you even eat food anymore? Or is it all black coffee and the bones of your self-respect?”

Rhaenyra didn’t lift her head to look at the journalist. “You’re dramatic.”

“No. I’m observant.” She replied, unplugging Rhaenyra's computer from the outlet, which earned her a ‘hey! I hadn't saved the file’, but Laena ignored it. “You're coming home with me.”

Laena cooked for her that evening, real food, not takeout, and made her sit down and eat, even though Rhaenyra just picked at it. She didn’t ask about Alicent. Not at first. Just talked. Filled the silence with stories from her own department, updates on whatever was going on between her and Daemon, dumb workplace gossip. She didn’t press. That was Laena’s gift — she waited. Until the wine bottle was half-empty and Rhaenyra’s shoulders had dropped from their usual rigid line.

Then she said, casually: “Still haven’t unblocked her?”

Rhaenyra froze. “Don’t.” Then picked up her glass and pressed it to her forehead, just to feel the cold.

“Okay,” Laena said, holding up her hands. “But you know I’m right.”

“She lied.”

“She said loved you.”

“She left .”

“You told her to.” That shut her up. Rhaenyra slumped deeper into Laena’s couch, wine glass still balanced against her forehead like it could chill the ache out of her skull. Laena, gods bless her, shook her head with a smile and set her drink down with a gaudy clink. “Listen, babe, you’ve got two options here. Either bite the bullet, unblock Alicent’s number, and fucking sort things out — or move on. Stop acting like a teenager who’s got her heart stomped on for the first time. Because, honestly? This whole lesbian heartbreak aesthetic? It’s not cute anymore. It stopped being tragic weeks ago, and now it’s just annoying.”

Rhaenyra snorted, the sound rough but real, her mouth twitching despite the sting. “Fuck you,” she muttered, no heat in it, and Laena’s laugh was a burst of warmth, like sunlight cracking through storm clouds.

“Eat your damn food,” Laena said, nudging the plate closer. “Then we’re watching something stupid.”

Laena’s couch was soft, the wine was sharp, and the TV blared some reality show about rich idiots fighting over other rich idiots on an island. Rhaenyra let herself sink into it, the noise drowning out the static in her head. Laena’s commentary, dry, merciless, kept her tethered, each jab at the contestants’ bad hair or worse decisions pulling a reluctant chuckle from Rhaenyra’s throat. 

She tore into the bread, the crust flaking onto her lap, and didn’t think about that empty office down the hall, the pen with her initials, the voicemails she’d deleted. Not Alicent’s tear-streaked face, not her voice cracking — This is me, loving you the only way I know how . For a few hours, Rhaenyra was just a woman on a couch, half-drunk and half-laughing, her heart too heavy but quiet, at least for now.

Laena didn’t bring her up again. Didn’t need to. The distraction held until the credits rolled, until Rhaenyra’s glass was empty and the room grew still, the TV’s glow flickering across their faces. “You staying?” Laena asked, her voice soft, no judgment.

“Nah,” Rhaenyra said, standing too fast, the wine rushing to her head. “Got an early meeting.” A lie. Laena’s arched brow called it out, but she didn’t push. Rhaenyra grabbed her coat, the leather cool against her fingers, and hugged Laena at the door, quick and fierce. “Thanks,” she mumbled, the word sticking in her throat.

“Anytime,” Laena said, her eyes too knowing.

It was supposed to make her feel better. And for a while, it did. Laena’s food was warm, her sarcasm familiar, the gossip welcomed, but when Rhaenyra left her place, the unease followed her home.

She barely remembered the drive. 

Rhaenyra’s driver pulled up to her house, and she muttered a terse “thanks,” slipping a crumpled bill into his hand (too much, probably, but she didn’t care), and stepped out into the damp air. The streetlights cast long, jagged shadows across the cobblestone path, and her heels clicked unevenly as she climbed the stairs.

Rhaenyra's keys jangled in her hand, too loud, like they were mocking her for coming home to nothing. The door creaked open, and Syrax’s eyes glinted from the foyer, but the cat didn’t move. Even she knew better than to expect warmth tonight. 

Rhaenyra kicked off her shoes, let her coat slide to the floor in a heap, and made her way over to the bedroom. Her bed was made (which, as previously mentioned, was extremely out of character), sheets cold from nights she barely slept, and she collapsed onto it, the mattress groaning under her weight. Her suit jacket clung to her shoulders, creased and stale with the day’s sweat, but she didn’t care. 

She wanted to feel the weight, the grime, the proof she was still here, still burning. Before she realized it, her phone was in her hand, the cracked screen cold against her palm. Laena’s words clawed at her skull.

Bite the bullet, unblock Alicent’s number, sort things out .

Rhaenyra’s lips twisted. Laena meant well, and she always did, but she just didn’t get it. Didn’t get that Rhaenyra didn’t want to get better, didn’t want to stitch herself back together. She wanted to burn, to let the fire in her chest consume everything, her pride, her pain, Alicent’s ghost. She wanted to feel it all, raw and jagged, because feeling nothing was worse.

Healing meant moving on. And Rhaenyra didn't want that. Because moving on meant stop wanting, stop thinking about her, and for all her hate, all her pain, forgetting Alicent seemed like a way more terrible fate than anything else. 

And so the months stretched on, Rhaenyra's world a treadmill set too fast a pace, her legs burned, but she didn't slow down, even when it cost herself. And whenever Rhaenyra woke up in the morning, she was already behind.

She downed three espressos and skipped breakfast that day, hands trembling as she scrolled through the latest work e-mails on her phone. Her eyes narrowed.

The discovery came by accident, a stray email from Criston Cole buried in her inbox, flagged for review. Otto’s cutting corners again, it read, with a forwarded chain detailing the Oldtown transfer. Rhaenyra’s eyes snagged on the words: Improper procedure. No board approval. Hightower’s signature only. Her hands went cold, pulse a dull howl. Alicent hadn’t chosen to leave — not fully. Otto had forced her, bypassing protocol, wielding his power like a blade. The realization hit like whiskey on an empty stomach, sickening. Alicent hadn’t run; she’d been exiled, and Rhaenyra had screamed at her, kicked her out, called her a coward for it.

This is me, loving you the only way I know how . It haunted her.

The guilt was a new kind of weight, heavier than the anger, rotting into her bones. She should’ve called, should’ve flown to Oldtown, should’ve done something. Anything.

Instead, Rhaenyra dove deeper into work, a machine grinding herself to dust. Hightower Publishing became her battlefield, her desk a fortress of contracts, spreadsheets, and Post-its, her inbox a beast she tamed daily. She arrived before dawn, left after midnight, her heels clicking through empty halls, her reflection in the windows a ghost with hollow eyes. Baela tried to intervene, too. Her voice soft but firm — “You’re killing yourself, Rhaenyra” — but Rhaenyra brushed her off, her smile too sharp, her words too final: “I’m fine.”

She wasn’t. The burnout crept in slowly, then all at once. 

Rhaenyra ignored the signs.

The headaches came first. Sharp and sudden behind her eyes, blooming whenever she stared at her laptop too long. Then came the blurred vision, the light sensitivity, the twitch in her left hand. None of it mattered. She had work to do. The dizziness, she chalked up to too much caffeine and not enough food. The nausea, she waved away with antacids and breath mints.  The weight loss, she pretended not to see when she caught glimpses of herself in the mirror. Cheekbones sharper, eyes sunken, skin too pale beneath the powder she dusted on each morning.

This is me, loving you the only way I know how.

She moved through her days like a ghost. Always in black. Always calm. Always one breath away from disintegrating entirely. But still, she didn’t stop. She answered every email, triple-checked every document. She barked orders, signed off on strategies, tore into junior associates with that razor tongue of hers. People said she was intense. Focused. Unstoppable.

They meant it as a compliment. She took it as fuel.

Even when her legs started to shake beneath her in the elevator. Even when she couldn’t remember the last time she ate a full meal. Even when she stood at the sink in the bathroom and had to grip the counter to steady herself, she wouldn’t stop. Because if she stopped, the silence would catch up to her. The dreams. The absence.

It happened on a Thursday.

All things seemed to go wrong on Thursdays, it seemed.

There had been another long night, another bottle of wine she drank alone in the dark while staring at her untouched drafts folder. She hadn’t even made it home, just slept for an hour on the leather couch in her office, neck stiff and limbs aching. That morning, mid-meeting, the room tilted, voices started blurring into static, and Rhaenyra excused herself, steady even as her vision swam. 

She made it to her office, shut the door, and collapsed into her chair, breath shallow, heart racing like it wanted out.

Laena found her, pale and trembling, and didn’t ask questions. She drove Rhaenyra to the hospital, her grip tight on the wheel, her silence louder than any lecture. The ER was a haze, somewhere distant a doctor’s voice droning about dehydration, exhaustion, stress-induced tachycardia. They hooked her to an IV, told her to rest, and left her in a room by herself.

The hospital room was too white, too clean. The kind of clean that feels weird, sterile and humming with antiseptic and fluorescent light. Machines beeped at intervals, one in particular louder than the rest, monitoring something Rhaenyra's not even paying attention to. She’s sitting up in the narrow bed with the blanket pooled around her waist, wearing one of those awful medical gowns, thin and papery, open in the back, her bare ass cold against the plastic sheet beneath her. 

She didn't plan to call. It took her three hours to dial the number, finally unblocked after all those months. She stared at the screen long enough for it to go black, then tapped it back on, over and over again. Eventually, she just hit call before she could think better of it. 

One ring. Two. Three. 

Rhaenyra almost hung up, her breath hitching, but then: 

“Rhaenyra?” Alicent’s voice, hoarse and hesitant, cut through the static. The fucking heart monitor beeped, loud, betraying Rhaenyra's pulse. It was her, unmistakably her, and Rhaenyra’s eyes burned, her throat too tight to speak. “Are you there? Please, say something.”

“I’m in the hospital,” Rhaenyra rasped, the words spilling out, raw and unpolished. 

Alicent made a choked sort of noise on the other side of the line. “What? The hospital?” Her voice sharpened immediately. Rhaenyra nodded, but realized it was stupid. “Why? What happened—”

“Burnout, they say. Worked myself to death, like an idiot. Thought you should know.”

The silence that followed was deafening, to say the least, a thousand unspoken reprimands weavers in between them. When she talked, Rhaenyra could tell Alicent was trying not to cry. “Why do you do this, Rhaenyra? You always push until there’s nothing left. You don’t stop, you don’t rest — Gods! You don’t even see yourself breaking until it’s too late.”

“Maybe I needed it.” A pause. “You know how I am with theatrics.” The joke didn't land.

Silence again, heavy and thick, stretched across the line. “Are you okay?”

“No.” Rhaenyra swallowed. “But I will be.” She paused. Fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket, shaking. “I know about the transfer. The papers.” A beat passes. Then another. “I saw the emails,” Rhaenyra went on. “Criston forwarded me the wrong thread.” She managed a bitter smile. “Bless his idiocy.”

Alicent doesn't reply. It’s so quiet on the other end of the line, Rhaenyra isn’t sure if the call dropped. Her thumb tightens around the edge of the phone.

“I shouldn’t have called,” she adds quickly. “I just… fuck. Sorry.”

“Don’t hang up,” Alicent says. Gentle. Immediate.

Rhaenyra closes her eyes. There’s a lump in her throat now, and it’s pathetic, really, how fast it comes. “I’m sorry I told you to get out. I didn’t mean it… I miss you,” she says, blunt and messy. “I miss you in all these stupid little ways I didn’t think I was allowed to.” Alicent still hasn’t said anything, but Rhaenyra hears a breath, then a sniffle on the other end. “And the thing is,” Rhaenyra continued, voice a little steadier now, like the words have found their shape before she has, “I do hate you. Not like before, when I was pretending to. When I was trying really hard to convince myself.”

She swallows, lets the pause linger. Swipes her cheek with the back of her hand.

“I hate you now. Really. I hate the way you left. I hate the silence you gave me. I hate the version of myself I’ve been since you disappeared.” Her breath catches in her throat. One of the machines clicks louder. She doesn’t even know what it’s measuring. “But even when I hate you…” Her voice drops, low and tired and soft around the edges. 

“Even when I’m furious with you, I just — I want to hear your voice. I want to hear you scold me for being dramatic, or messy, or wrong. I want to see the way your mouth tugs when you’re trying not to laugh. I want to touch your wrist the way I used to when you were pretending you weren’t letting me. Just to feel your pulse.”

Rhaenyra blinks down at her lap, at the IV in her hand, her fingers twitching around the plastic tube. A tear slips past her lashes, warm against her skin. “I don’t even want sex,” she says, and it sounds like a confession. "Which, knowing me, it's such an absurd thing to say."

Somewhere in the hallway, a cart rattles by. A nurse laughs — brief and distant. But inside the room, it’s just that awful beeping, the sterile hum of the overhead light, and the thready sound of Rhaenyra’s breath.

She wipes at her cheek again, rougher this time, annoyed with herself.

There’s a shift in the silence. Not a sound, not yet. But something changes. Rhaenyra feels it like pressure against her chest, like the pause between lightning and thunder. And, finally, softly : “I shouldn’t have left like that.”

Rhaenyra’s throat aches. She doesn’t speak. Doesn’t dare.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Alicent continues, and her voice catches on the word right, like she doesn’t believe in it anymore. “I told myself you’d be fine. That you’d be okay. Things could just go back to how they were.” A breath. A laugh, tired and disbelieving. “I still check your calendar,” Alicent says, voice so soft it could vanish. “On the firm’s shared drive. I tell myself it’s just habit, but… I don’t know. I look at your schedule and wonder if you’re eating lunch. If you’re working too late. If someone’s driving you home. I think about you more than I should. I don’t know if we’re good for each other. But I know I’m worse without you.” Rhaenyra’s heart thuds so hard she thinks it might break the monitor. “I quit two weeks ago.”

That made Rhaenyra blink. “What?”

“I sent the resignation in from Oldtown,” Alicent said. “Father didn’t speak to me for three days. It was glorious.”

“Let me guess,” Rhaenyra muttered, a small smile twitching at the corner of her mouth despite herself. “You probably used bullet points. Cited ‘irreconcilable ethics’ or something noble like that.”

A pause.

“I used the phrase ‘my values no longer align with the company’s direction’,” Alicent admitted, deadpan.

Rhaenyra groaned. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You even resign like a princess. You’re ridiculous.” Alicent didn’t deny it. The silence that followed was gentler this time, tenderness folded between the grief. Rhaenyra could almost hear her exhale, like she’d set something down.

“You still hate me?” Alicent asked, voice careful. Bracing for the weight beneath the question.

Rhaenyra closed her eyes. Let her head fall back against the pillow. “Unfortunately,” she said, voice dry and thick all at once. “It’s very inconvenient.”

Alicent huffed, almost a laugh. “Right.”

“Are you coming back…?”

Alicent didn’t answer right away. Rhaenyra could hear her breathing, could imagine her frowning at the question like it had too many answers and none that were safe. “Maybe.” She settled.

“Okay,” Rhaenyra whispered. “I don’t want to hang up.” It slipped out of her before she could stop it — soft and helpless, almost childlike.

On the other end, silence stretched again. Not sharp, not cold. Just… careful. “Rhaenyra,” Alicent murmured.

“I love you,” Rhaenyra said. Quiet. Certain. She didn’t try to dress it up this time, didn’t lace it with sarcasm or say it like it was a joke. She just… said it. Like it had always been there. “I think I have for a long time. Maybe I always have.”

Alicent didn’t speak for a while, basking in it. But Rhaenyra heard the sound of her breath hitch. Heard the tremble she tried to hide. Could perfectly imagine her face. Her eyes. Then, softly—

“I know.” It wasn’t an echo. It wasn’t I love you too. But somehow, it was enough. For now. “I should let you rest,” Alicent said finally, her voice lower now, like the words were fraying as they left her.

“Yeah… Can I call you again? Some other time?”

“You can.” Alicent answered.

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, Rhaenyra.”

“Goodnight, Alicent.”

The line didn’t go dead immediately. They both waited — like maybe one of them would crack, or start over, or say something unforgivable again just to keep it going. But eventually, the call ended. And in the silence that followed, Rhaenyra didn’t feel healed. But she didn’t feel alone, either.

Rhaenyra quit Hightower Publishing the next week, her resignation a single line emailed to Otto: I’m done. She walked out, the pen in her pocket, and didn’t look back. The burnout had cracked her open, but the call had stitched her just enough to keep going.

Hate still existed inside her. But not so loud anymore. It faded a little everyday, till the point where Rhaenyra barely felt it. But it was there. It didn’t go away suddenly because of a call or an apology. But she’d wait, because Alicent was worth it, because love was a stubborn, stupid thing, and Rhaenyra Targaryen was nothing if not stubborn.

And time did, in fact, heal all wounds.

Rhaenyra had always thought that was bullshit — the kind of tired phrase people threw around when they didn’t know what else to say. Like flowers at a funeral. Like sorry for your loss. Time doesn’t heal, she used to think. It just dulls the edges until you forget how sharp it once was. But then the days started moving again. Slowly, at first. Then faster. And somewhere along the way, she realized she hadn’t thought about the hospital in weeks. 

Hadn’t reached for her phone in the middle of the night to check if Alicent had texted. She still thought about her, of course. Still missed her in the quiet spaces. In the turn of a phrase, in a sharp scent on the street that reminded her of some long-forgotten hand lotion Alicent used to wear. 

But it no longer knocked the wind out of her. 

It didn’t send her spiraling. 

That ache, once constant and all-consuming, had settled into something manageable. Time, it turned out, wasn’t a cure. But it sure fucking helped.

She opened her own firm a few months later. Boutique, sleek, ambitious. Legal advising with a focus on ethical restructuring, of all things. Aegon had laughed when she told him. “Since when do you care about ethics?” he’d asked, and she had rolled her eyes and called him an idiot, but privately, it made sense. Rhaenyra didn’t want to be part of the same machine that chewed her up. She wanted to build something better. 

It was hard at first. Rhaenyra doubted herself constantly. The imposter syndrome crept in like mold. But she hired good people. She asked for help when she needed it (a miracle in itself). And slowly, it became real. The office was small, but hers. 

Oh, and then there was therapy…

Gods, fucking therapy. Rhaenyra had gone in defensive, sarcastic, two minutes late and already chewing gum just to irritate whoever had the misfortune of listening to her.

But her therapist had simply raised an eyebrow and said, “I’m not your enemy.” That was all. And Rhaenyra had surprised herself by crying twenty minutes later. Big, messy sobs that made her feel ridiculous and fourteen again. But she kept going. Week after week. They talked about her mother. Her father. About power and love and the horrifying ways the two twisted together. About Alicent. Especially about Alicent. And somewhere along the way, Rhaenyra stopped talking like she was preparing for battle. Her voice got quieter. Her shoulders lighter. She still didn’t trust peace — not fully — but she started to believe it might be possible.

So there was that.

A year of that.

Technically, a year and seven months of that, if you start the clock when Alicent left that night.

But it didn't matter.

The rooftop bar in King’s Landing wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t exclusive. But it had a view.

Warm lights strung along the beams above, casting everything in amber. The breeze carried just enough chill to lift the hem of jackets, to make people lean a little closer than they might’ve otherwise. Below, the city stretched out in soft neon, familiar and distant.

Rhaenyra sat at the edge of it all, nursing a ginger beer she’d barely touched. Yes, she stopped drinking. Her hair was longer now — loose and wind-tousled, silver strands curling around her collar. Her suit was tailored, but relaxed. Casual, in the way only expensive could afford. She looked good. Everyone knew that, Rhaenyra knew that, but it didn't make her any less nervous.

She glanced down at her phone, thumb hovering over the screen. Still nothing. She was about to call when the sound of soft footsteps hit her ear. The click of heels. A breath.

Rhaenyra looked up.

Alicent stood at the edge of the table, bathed in the glow of string lights and late spring air. Her hair was shorter now, just an inch beneath her shoulder blades. She wasn’t wearing a dress, or silk, or anything she might’ve worn before. Just a black turtleneck, simple trousers, and that look — the one Rhaenyra always forgot how to brace against.

“You’re late,” Rhaenyra said.

Alicent rolled her eyes and sat down. “Hello to you too.”

Rhaenyra smirked, but it softened fast. “You cut your hair.”

“You grew yours.”

And that was it. It was awkward. Uneasy, too much history. But the waiter came and went. Orders placed. A rhythm established. And for a few beats, they just sat in it. The quiet. The weightlessness of not being enemies anymore.

“I saw your name on a white paper for Casterly Holdings,” Alicent said, sipping her drink. “Big fish.”

“Overpriced fish. But yeah.”

“You like it?”

Rhaenyra shrugged. “I like the freedom. I pick who I work with now. I don’t owe anyone a damn thing.” She paused. “What about you?”

Alicent smiled, small and sure. “Corporate, still.” Her voice sounds almost embarrassed. “Turns out I do love a good spreadsheet. Contract manufacturing, advising mid-size firms, startups. Marketing predictions, stratergy. No board. No legacy name attached.”

“No golden chair?”

“No golden leash,” she corrected. “I don’t want to own anything. I just want to build things. And then move on.”

Rhaenyra looked at her like she was seeing Alicent for the first time. “You sound different.”

“I am.”

“Took you long enough.”

Alicent laughed — that real one, the one that cracked open in the middle and shook her shoulders. “Shut up.”

The rooftop bar’s amber lights swayed gently in the breeze, casting shadows that danced across Alicent’s face, softening the lines of her jaw, her new haircut framing her like a painting Rhaenyra wasn’t sure she was allowed to touch. 

The ginger beer in Rhaenyra’s hand was flat now, its bubbles long gone, but she held it anyway, her fingers tracing the condensation, grounding herself in the cool glass. Alicent’s drink sat half-finished, the ice melting into a clear pool, catching the light like her eyes did when she wasn’t guarding them. But the conversation was good, too much time between them, too much to catch up on.

“It’s hard.” Alicent continued. “Some days I don’t know if I’m doing it right. But I’m trying.”

Rhaenyra’s throat tightened, her heart a bruised thing in her chest. She wanted to say a thousand things. I missed you. I waited for you, I’d wait again. But instead, she leaned forward, her voice dropping, teasing but warm. “You’re doing fine, Ali.”

The name slipped out, natural as breathing, and Rhaenyra froze, her eyes flicking to Alicent’s, waiting for the flinch, the correction, the way Alicent had once asked her to stop, back when it felt too intimate, too dangerous. But Alicent didn’t flinch. Her lips parted, a soft exhale escaping, and her eyes softened, a flicker of something like relief, like home.

“You really waited for me?” she asked.

Rhaenyra blinked, caught off guard by the softness of it. “Yeah.”

Alicent tilted her head. “Like… waited waited?”

“Yes.”

A pause. Alicent narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit.”

It was Rhaenyra's turn to laugh. “Wow. Okay.”

“I mean, come on,” Alicent said, smirking, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You expect me to believe that you, being you, didn’t hook up with anyone for a year?”

“I didn’t want anyone else.”

“That’s not the same as not having anyone else,” Alicent replied, more serious now. “People want you. People always wanted you.”

“I didn’t want to be touched,” Rhaenyra stated. That shut her up. Alicent’s mouth opened, but no words came out. “I tried,” Rhaenyra added quietly. “It felt wrong. Like my body didn’t belong to me anymore. Like it was still remembering you.”

Alicent looked down, her throat working hard around the silence. The blush that rose to her cheeks wasn’t about embarrassment. It was something else. Something older. Hungrier. Rhaenyra watched her for a long second, then leaned forward, voice dropping.

“I'm not that noble. I would’ve let them touch me, I would've.” She said. “If they could’ve kissed me like you do. If they had your mouth. Your hands. Your voice. But they didn’t. And I didn’t want just anybody. I wanted you. ” Alicent’s breath caught. “And I’m not sorry,” Rhaenyra added, eyes locked on hers. “For waiting. For wanting.”

The wind stirred, lifting the edges of the linen tablecloth, ruffling the ends of Alicent’s shorter hair. She didn’t move. She just looked at her — stunned, maybe. Or something quieter. Something more like awe.

She set her glass down. Slowly. “You really didn’t…?”

“No,” Rhaenyra said. “It’s been you, Alicent. Just you.”

The night had curved into something slower, weightier. They weren’t talking anymore — not in the way that filled the space. Just looking. Breathing. Letting the quiet stretch between them like a thread, held tight.

Then Alicent said, almost too softly: “I slept with someone.”

Rhaenyra didn’t move. She didn’t even blink.

“She was nice,” Alicent went on, like the words had been waiting at the back of her throat for months. “Worked in marketing. Wore flannel. Always laughed at my jokes. Told me I had kind eyes, which is just… patently untrue.” Rhaenyra’s mouth quirked, but she didn’t interrupt. “I was trying to figure out what I wanted,” Alicent continued. “Not — not like that. I’ve always known it was women. That part wasn’t a question.” She paused, staring down at her napkin, twisting the edge between her fingers. “But after,” she said quietly, “I cried.”

The table stilled.

“I sat in her bathroom, and I just cried. And all I could think about was calling you to apologize.” Rhaenyra's chest tightened, but she didn’t speak. “I didn’t,” Alicent said. “I was too scared you’d be hurt. Or worse — that you wouldn’t care. But it felt like cheating. It still feels like cheating. Even now. Like there was this part of me that always belonged to you, and I loaned it to someone who didn’t even know they were holding something sacred.”

Rhaenyra reached across the table. Not to silence her. Not to stop her. Just to be there. Her thumb brushed the back of Alicent’s hand, warm and soft. “There’s nothing to forgive,” she said.

Alicent’s brow creased, a confused frown tugging at her lips. “But—”

“You were trying to find yourself,” Rhaenyra interrupted, reaching up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind Alicent's ear.

“I still—”

“ I waited,” Rhaenyra said, “because I had no choice. Because I needed to. But I never expected you to do the same. You weren’t mine. Not then. Maybe not even now.” Alicent opened her mouth, but nothing came out. “And if you had to sleep with someone else to figure out that your heart was still pointed at me,” Rhaenyra added gently, “then I’m glad it helped.”

A breath. A beat. Alicent looked like she might fall apart. Not from shame anymore, but from relief.

“Fuck, you really are in therapy.” She breathed.

Rhaenyra laughed, loose and relaxed. Their eyes met, humor softening into something familiar, fragile, something wondering. The silence returned, but this time it was brighter, not as heavy. Like the quiet wasn’t choking them anymore. Like it was making room for whatever came next. A breeze slipped between them again, cool against their flushed faces, tugging at the edge of the napkin Alicent had twisted into a frayed rope in her lap.

Rhaenyra sipped her flat ginger beer, grimaced. “Gods, this is terrible.”

“You ordered it.”

“I was trying to be virtuous. Reformed.”

Alicent hummed. “Still a liar, then.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth, appalled. “That’s rich coming from someone who pretended she didn’t miss me.”

“I never pretended,” she shot back. “I simply… avoided.”

“Oh, that’s better.”

“I didn’t say it was the right thing to do.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, grinning. “You know, for someone who ruined my life, you’ve got a real mouth on you.”

Alicent blinked, deadpan. “ I ruined your life?”

“You left,” Rhaenyra said, feigning a dramatic gasp. “Tore my heart out, took the cat, vanished to another—”

“I didn’t take the cat, Rhaenyra.”

“She stopped sleeping in my bed when you were gone. You might as well have.”

“And that's somehow my fault?”

“Obviously.” Rhaenyra smiled. Paused. Looked at her for a long beat, then said, with a tilt of her head, “I moved out, you know.”

Alicent blinked. “Out of where?”

“My parent's house”

“You moved out of your family’s castle .”

“It’s not a castle,” Rhaenyra muttered, clearly defensive. “It’s a… big house. Hundreds of years old.”

Alicent snorted. “And?”

“And it’s full of ghosts,” Rhaenyra said. “And pressure. And rooms I didn’t pick. So I left. Bought my own place. Fewer portraits of dead ancestors glaring at me when I forget to wear shoes.”

Alicent's eyes stayed fixed on her. “And you’re telling me this why?”

“Well, I was thinking… if you weren’t busy, maybe you’d want to see it.”

“Right now?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Alicent's brows furrowed. Rhaenyra thought she might decline, but then: “Okay.”

It was past midnight when Rhaenyra flicked on the light, the soft click of the switch breaking the hush as she led Alicent into her new apartment. 

Alicent hesitated at the threshold, expecting polished edges, monochrome sleekness, harsh lights. Instead, the room exhaled warmth, like a sigh held too long, revealing a Rhaenyra who’d begun to unravel her armor.

A low, oak-framed sofa sat against one wall, its navy upholstery worn soft, a plaid throw blanket bunched at one end. Hardwood floor gleaming under a single floor lamp, its shade a faded red that cast a rosy glow, softening the corners. 

The walls, painted a warm ivory, bore traces of Rhaenyra’s new life: a small canvas of a stormy sea, its colors bold and reckless; a pinned-up postcard from Driftmark, sent by Laena; and a single framed photo of Rhaenyra and her siblings as kids, their grins gap-toothed and wild. A narrow bookshelf sagged under the weight of vinyls, novels, and a tiny jade plant that looked like it was clinging to life out of sheer stubbornness. 

Alicent’s eyes caught on a worn leather notebook on the coffee table, its pages bulging with Post-its.

Tucked into its cover was the silver pen she’d given Rhaenyra, its engraved initials catching the light. It sat there, unassuming, quiet, and Alicent’s throat tightened, her fingers brushing the edge of her sleeve as she stood just inside the doorway, coat still on, uncertain.

Rhaenyra closed the door behind them, the soft thud echoing in the quiet. 

She tossed her keys onto the side table, where they landed with a clatter next to the mug, and turned to face Alicent.

“You cook?” Alicent asked, toeing off her heels.

“I try,” Rhaenyra said, making her way to the other side and past her, shoulders bumping slightly. “Sometimes I succeed. Sometimes the fire alarm gets a workout.” Alicent smiled. Nervous. A little shy. Like the night was suddenly too real. Rhaenyra watched her from across the room. She didn’t rush. Didn’t push. “Do you want to stay?” she asked. 

Alicent met her eyes. Nodded her head yes. 

“So,” She continued, her voice low, teasing, but with an edge of nerves that betrayed her. Rhaenyra leaned against the back of the sofa, arms crossed, one ankle hooked over the other. “You gonna stand there all night, or you planning to sit?”

Alicent’s lips twitched, but her feet didn’t move. “It’s… different,” she said, her gaze sweeping the room again, lingering on the jade plant, the postcard, the pictures. “Not what I expected.”

“Yeah?” Rhaenyra’s brow arched, a familiar smirk tugging at her mouth, but it was softer, less guarded. “What, you thought I’d have a single chair and a bottle of whiskey?”

“Something like that,” Alicent admitted, her voice dry but warm. “It’s… so you.”

She finally shrugged off her coat, draping it over the arm of the sofa, her movements careful, like she was afraid to disturb the space. Alicent's black turtleneck and trousers made her look sleek, almost severe, but the way her shoulders relaxed, the way her fingers fidgeted, told a different story.

Rhaenyra tilted her head, watching her. “You look like you’re in a museum.”

Alicent let out a soft breath, almost a laugh. “I feel like I am. Like if I touch something wrong, it’ll break.”

Rhaenyra shrugged. “Nothing in here is that fragile.”

A pause.

Alicent sat down slowly, careful not to wrinkle the throw blanket as she sank into the sofa. The cushion dipped under her weight with a soft creak. She folded her hands in her lap, as if unsure what to do with them.

Rhaenyra stayed where she was, still leaning on the back of the couch, arms crossed, chewing at the inside of her cheek like she was trying not to say something stupid.

“So,” Alicent said finally, after a beat too long. “You live here.”

Rhaenyra snorted, turned her head around to look at Alicent. “Observant as ever.”

“I meant —” Alicent hesitated, then gave up. “Never mind.”

“No, what?”

“I just… I don’t know what I meant.” Her fingers twisted in her lap. “This feels strange.” Rhaenyra shifted her weight, brow furrowed.

Silence. Weird silence. Not like the restaurant, where they had the pretense of the past year to catch up on, where they could trade stories from the times they had spend away from each other. This was different. There's no catching up left to do, nothing to update, to tell, to apologize for. So… yeah.

“Do you want tea?” she offered suddenly. “Or wine? I have a bottle open from when Baela stopped by. Unless it’s gone bad. Can wine go bad?”

Alicent smiled faintly. “Tea’s good.” She didn’t want tea, but I’d be nice to have something warm on her hands. Something to ground her.

Rhaenyra disappeared into the kitchen. Water ran. The kettle clanked onto the stove. She moved with purpose, but her hands were fidgety, too fast — like nerves were leaking through her seams.

Alicent watched her from the couch, taking in the way her hair was slightly mussed from the wind, the way her back curved as she leaned over the counter, how familiar it all was and how unfamiliar it still felt to be here again. In this version of Rhaenyra’s world. 

She wasn’t sure where she fit inside it yet.

Rhaenyra returned with two chipped mugs, steam curling from the tops. She handed one to Alicent, their fingers brushing briefly. Too briefly.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t get excited. It’s just whatever bag was closest to expiration.”

“I didn’t think you drank tea.”

“I don’t. But I like buying it. Something about the illusion of stability.”

That earned a quiet laugh. They both sipped. Silence stretched again, this time heavier.

“You can put on music, if you want,” Rhaenyra offered. “Or we can talk. Or not talk.”

“I don’t really know how to do this,” Alicent admitted, eyes fixed on the mug.

Rhaenyra tilted her head. “Do what?”

“Be here. With you. Like this. After everything.”

Rhaenyra sat down beside her, not too close, but not far either. Her knees pointed slightly in Alicent’s direction, one arm resting along the back of the couch.

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Me neither.”

They sat with that for a while. Not fighting it. Just… letting it be awkward. Letting it be . Alicent stared into her tea like it might offer her instructions. Sip. Breathe. Speak. It didn't. She lifted the mug again, held it against her lips without drinking. 

Alicent adjusted her posture, shifting her knees toward Rhaenyra without quite touching. Her fingers tapped against the mug one more time. “It’s strange,” she said. “You… changed. But also not.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, watching her. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No. I just…” Alicent looked down, then back up. Her voice dropped. “I missed this.”

“Yeah,” Rhaenyra said, just as quiet. “Me too.”

The space between them crackled then, invisible and taut — not quite nostalgia, not quite longing, but something sticky and electric all the same. Alicent’s fingers were still curled around her mug like a vice. Rhaenyra set hers down on the coffee table, leaned in a little, testing the gravity of the moment.

Her eyes dipped briefly to Alicent’s mouth, then flicked up again. “You cut your hair,” she said, the words rougher now, edged with something that wasn’t entirely casual.

Alicent didn’t move. “You already said that.”

Rhaenyra reached out slowly, her hand brushing the air before finding the soft edge of a curl. She tucked it behind Alicent’s ear with a gentleness that didn’t match the hunger in her eyes.

“I know ,” Rhaenyra said. “I just… I still want to wrap it around my hand.” Alicent’s breath hitched — visibly, audibly. She went very still, except for her throat working around a hard swallow. Her eyes didn’t leave Rhaenyra’s. “Is that… still allowed?” she asked, barely a whisper.

“Yes.”

Rhaenyra’s hand lingered a beat too long by her jaw. And gods, that could’ve been the moment. They could’ve kissed. They could’ve fallen into it, mouths hot and desperate, like all those other times. But instead, Alicent let out a breathy, nervous laugh that Rhaenyra thought was the most adorable thing in the world and dropped her hand with a grin.

“I still overthink everything,” Alicent stated. She looked down, flustered, her mouth tugging into a tight, frustrated smile.

Rhaenyra leaned back, just slightly. Enough to give them space, but not distance. “I know you do,” she said softly. “You always did. Used to drive me insane.”

Alicent huffed. “I ran the entire dialogue in my head before I saw you again. And when I stepped into that restaurant, then again before I sat down. It’s like… a loop I can’t turn off.”

“Tell me.” Rhaenyra’s voice was light, coaxing.

Alicent hesitated. Her fingers tightened around the mug again before setting it down onto the coffee table. “You'd said you’d moved on. Found someone else. Or maybe you wouldn't have anyone, you just wouldn't want me — that was the worst one. That you’d pity me. That maybe you’d kiss me just to be kind.”

Rhaenyra’s brows drew together. “Alicent…”

“I know,” she interrupted, quick. “It’s stupid. I just—I don’t know how to be wanted. Not really. Not without conditions.”

Rhaenyra’s heart twisted in a way that made her chest feel tight, her fingertips numb. “I want you,” she said, quiet but firm. “I wanted you before I knew what wanting was. And I want you now. Still. No conditions.”

Her words were met with silence from Alicent's end. Rhaenyra leaned in, and Alicent stiffened, her entire body coiled with startled tension, unsure whether to bolt or lean in, too. Her breath caught, shallow and sharp, but she didn’t move.

But Rhaenyra just stayed there, curling against her like the weight of everything she wasn’t saying had finally forced her to seek rest. Her cheek pressed to the soft wool of Alicent’s sweater over her shoulder, the heat of her body radiating in careful, aching inches. They sat like that for a long moment. The quiet between them wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t cruel either. It pulsed. A bruise being pressed, like breath caught between apology and confession.

Rhaenyra’s arm stretched along the back of the couch, brushing against Alicent’s shoulder. 

Her thumb twitched once, like she wanted to touch her more than she dared. Outside, the city lights poured in through the windows in long amber streaks, cutting across the living room in soft gold. Inside, the tea had gone cold, and nothing else moved.

Alicent’s voice was soft when she spoke again, something like wonder in it. “Funny.”

“What is?”

“You still smell the same.”

Rhaenyra pulled away to look at her, brow raised. “That’s a weird thing to say.”

“You know what I mean,” Alicent mumbled, flustered, cheeks blooming pink. “You always smelled like… sandalwood and laundry detergent and, I don’t know. Nighttime.”

“Nighttime?” Rhaenyra scoffed, amused. “What the fuck does nighttime smell like?”

“Like you,” Alicent said, and didn’t take it back.

The words hit harder than they had any right to. Rhaenyra looked at her for a long moment — the new haircut, the soft shine on her lips, her hands still warm from the now cold tea mug — and then something in her broke.

"Fuck it," she said.

“What?” Alicent asked, blinking.

But Rhaenyra was already moving.

She leaned in and kissed her.

No fanfare. No slow inching forward or dramatic music swelling in the background. Just her mouth finding Alicent’s like gravity had finally gotten tired of waiting. Like her body remembered before her brain did. Alicent stilled for half a second, long enough for Rhaenyra to start to pull back, worried she might've been too much, too soon, but then Alicen's hand shot up, fingers fisting in the collar of Rhaenyra’s shirt, dragging her closer like she'd been holding her breath for a year and finally couldn’t anymore, too.

Alicent's lips were warm and soft where Rhaenyra could taste lipgloss. And it was even better than what she remembered. Sweeter than any other kiss they ever shared before.

She pulled back after a moment, barely. Just enough to see her. Alicent's cheeks were flushed, lips red and parted, breathing like she’d just sprinted up a hill. Rhaenyra's hands were fisted in the soft fabric of her turtleneck, knuckles white with restraint.

“I tried,” Rhaenyra said, voice low and ragged. “Gods, I tried. Being patient. Graceful. Giving you space. Letting you come to me.” Alicent blinked, eyes wide, dazed from the kiss, brows drawn together as if she was trying to grasp the fact that this was really happening. “I wanted to be… different,” Rhaenyra went on. “Better. Softer. Thought maybe if I waited long enough, I’d earn my way back to you.” She let out a dry, breathless laugh, eyes flicking down to where her fists still clutched the front of Alicent’s sweater. “But I couldn’t.”

Alicent opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her brow furrowed harder, like she was trying to figure out if this was an apology or a warning.

And then Rhaenyra’s voice dropped, hoarse with heat. “Maybe I’m not that changed after all.”

Before Alicent could answer, before she could even process it fully, Rhaenyra surged forward and kissed her again. This one was messier. Less careful. Like they’d cracked something open and neither of them could be bothered to clean it up.

Alicent made a sound against her mouth, hopeless and choked, and Rhaenyra swallowed it down. Her hands slid from the front of the sweater to the curve of Alicent’s jaw, thumb brushing the hinge just beneath her ear. Alicent’s fingers curled into her sides, pulling, anchoring, grounding… or maybe bracing. It didn't matter. Not after a year. Not after everything.

There was nothing slow about it, either. Nothing tentative. Just heat, and breath, and all the places they used to know. Rhaenyra kissed her like she was starved for it. Like her body had been humming with restraint since the last time they'd touched. Alicent met her with equal hunger, the kind that came with months of denial. Tight, trembling, on the edge of ruin.

But it wavered.

Their noses bumped, teeth knocked once, and Alicent laughed against Rhaenyra’s mouth. “Sorry,” she murmured, smiling.

“Don’t be,” Rhaenyra whispered back. “It’s been a while.”

Another laugh. Softer now. They fumbled a little. Alicent’s hands trembled as she tried to tug Rhaenyra’s suit off. Rhaenyra knocked over the tea mug reaching for her waist. The blanket nearly got caught around both of their legs when they shifted onto the couch, and Alicent cursed under her breath when a button caught in her hair.

But they laughed through it. Kept kissing through it. Let themselves be a little clumsy, a little undone.

“This okay?” She whispered, voice rough. Alicent nodded. Rhaenyra pushed Alicent's turtleneck up only to find that she was wearing a simple black bra. Nothing fancy. No lace. No padding. But fuck, it fit . It was soft and snug and new-looking, the straps cutting across Alicent’s shoulders like ink drawn on ivory, her chest rising and falling beneath it, and the moment Rhaenyra saw, she actually staggered back half a step.

“Oh, holy shit.” She muttered adoringly. Nothing special about this, but Rhaenyra thought it might just be a gift from the gods personally.

Alicent flushed. “Sorry I—”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“I didn’t think we’d do anything,” Alicent hissed as Rhaenyra’s hands skimmed her ribs, trailing reverent fingers up toward the clasp. “I thought we’d talk . Not…”

She laughed. “I was planning on fucking you the moment you stepped into that restaurant,” Rhaenyra said plainly, her voice rough, already leaning in to kiss down Alicent's chest, pulling the fabric over her breasts, “but sure, let’s pretend this was spontaneous.”

Alicent whimpered (not that she would never admit it), but the sound gave her away. Rhaenyra smiled against her skin. 

“You talk too much.”

“Say it again when I’ve got my face between your legs.” Alicent’s breath caught one more time, but she lifted her hips as Rhaenyra’s hands found her trousers, unfastening them deftly, dragging the zipper down slow like she was unwrapping something delicate. The fabric peeled away, pooling around her thighs. Rhaenyra didn’t look away. Not once. 

Because how could she?

Alicent was flushed and wrecked already, legs pressed together like she didn’t know whether she wanted to flee or pull Rhaenyra closer. Still. The line of her hips, the shallow dip of her navel, the way her breath hitched every time Rhaenyra merely looked at her. It was obscene how much it hurt to want like this. To be wanted like this, in return.

Rhaenyra's fingertips traced the curve of her hips, drawing barely there lines across soft, heated skin, down her thighs, up to the insides. Alicent's hands found Rhaenyra's face, urging up until their lips met again, trying to soothe, trying to not let the gravity of their reunion ruin it. Rhaenyra made a little sound, exasperated, once Alicent leaned down, trailing her mouth across the hollow of Rhaenyra's neck, her breathing stumbling over itself beneath Alicent's lips. Rhaenyra was nervous, too.

Alicent could tell in her touches, the way she hesitated before wrapping a hand around Alicent's throat. It made her want more. Alicent could feel it in every place Rhaenyra wasn’t touching her.

That was the worst part.

Rhaenyra hesitated, not from disinterest, but from whatever reverent restraint she was drowning in, like she was trying to hold herself back, trying to be good. Her fingers ghosted over Alicent’s ribs, her jaw, her thigh, but never quite took. Even the kiss to her jaw was too soft. Tender.

And it made Alicent want to scream.

Because she didn’t want tenderness. Not now. Not from her. She wanted heat. Teeth. Her body was already singing with it, flushed and aching — not with nerves, not anymore, but with something desperate. Her skin felt too tight. Her thighs kept clenching on their own, heat building at the base of her spine and curling between her legs so fiercely it hurt.

Rhaenyra’s mouth dragged down to her throat and didn’t bite, and that was it. That was the moment.

Gods, she was so fucking wet she could barely think.

Please, she thought. Not out loud. Not even then. Alicent Hightower was reformed, sure, but she was a woman of conviction. She wouldn't beg. But it pulsed through her like a drumbeat. Please. Please.

The restraint was sweet, noble, but Alicent didn’t want to be worshipped. She wanted to be wrecked. Wanted to be shoved back against the cushions and fucked stupid until she forgot how to overthink. Until her legs shook and her voice cracked, and there was nothing left but Rhaenyra’s mouth and her hands and the heat rolling in waves until it broke her completely.

Alicent shifted, just slightly, grinding her hips up against Rhaenyra’s thigh, not by accident, not even a little bit, and the friction was maddening. Not enough, though, never enough, but her whole body lit up at the contact.

“I can feel you thinking,” Rhaenyra murmured into her neck, breath hot.

“Make me stop,” Alicent snapped, hands fisting in Rhaenyra’s shirt now, dragging it off her body only to find Rhaenyra was bare beneath it, desperate, trembling. “Don’t be sweet. Just — just fuck me.”

And whatever restraint Rhaenyra had been holding shattered.

Her hand slid in between Alicent's thighs, fingers pressing hard against the soaked fabric of her underwear, no teasing, no preamble. She let out a sharp gasp, back arching off the couch as Rhaenyra's thumb found her clit and rubbed in slow, focused circles.

There was a whine building in the back of Alicent's throat, loud and sharp, the last drags of her self-restraint fraying with the first sparks of pleasure as one of Rhaenyra's long fingers made its way under the fabric, dancing over the line of pubic hair and slid into that slick heat. Rhaenyra didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. Her mouth was on Alicent’s collarbone now, biting this time, not hard enough to bruise but enough to make Alicent gasp and grind harder into her hand.

Alicent bit down on her lip so hard it stung, trying to hold it together, but it was hopeless. Rhaenyra’s fingers filled her perfectly, her palm grinding against her clit with every thrust, and her body was already trembling, already coiling tight like it had been waiting for this all damn year.

“Fuck—Rhaenyra—”

“I know,” Rhaenyra murmured against her skin. “I know, baby.” And there was something so utterly filthy about the tenderness of it. How Rhaenyra said it like a vow, even while she was fucking her open on the couch. “A year,” Rhaenyra spoke into Alicent's lips. “More than that. I haven't touched you. Do you know what it feels like?”

Alicent shook her head, breath hitching as Rhaenyra moved again, thrusting into her in a steady, sure rhythm that made it hard to form words, let alone sentences. “What… what does it feel like?” she asked, voice soft. 

Rhaenyra’s thumb pressed down on her clit, harder, and Alicent’s head thumped back against the armrest of the couch with a moan.

“Like starving,” she breathed. “Like dying a little. Every night. I’d lie in bed and think about this. About you. The way you sound when you come. The way you shake.” Her fingers curled again, knuckles pressing deep, and Alicent screamed — a sharp, cracking thing that cut straight through the air. Rhaenyra didn’t stop. She couldn’t. “I used to dream about your thighs around my head. Wake up sweating, soaked, fucking wrecked. I’d come and still be empty.”

“Oh—”

“I’d sit in meetings,” she went on, almost feverish now, “thinking about the way you’d look at me. That little sound you make when you’re close. The one you’re making right now .” Her voice dipped to a whisper, taunting and adoring all at once. “And I couldn’t do anything about it.”

Alicent was gasping now, nails digging into Rhaenyra’s biceps, eyes glassy and wide. Her whole body was tight, too tight, wound up so hard she was going to shatter, and Rhaenyra felt it . Felt her fluttering around her fingers, felt the way her legs trembled, felt the heat gathering, cresting.

But just when Alicent’s breath hitched in that telltale way, when her body locked up and her mouth dropped open like the orgasm had already started tearing through her, Rhaenyra stopped.

She pulled her fingers out slow, slick and gleaming, and leaned back.

Alicent let out a broken, disbelieving sound. Rhaenyra’s lips twitched, a hungry edge to her smile, but before Alicent could fully register it, Rhaenyra’s hands were moving again, firm and purposeful.

“Turn over,” She said, fingers already guiding Alicent’s hips. 

Alicent blinked, dazed, but the command in Rhaenyra’s tone sent something through her body, something searing and hot and completely shameless. She shifted, letting Rhaenyra’s hands steer her, rolling onto her stomach with a soft grunt as the couch creaked beneath them. Her turtleneck was still bunched around her shoulders, bra straps slipping down her arms, trousers and underwear tangled at her ankles, leaving her bare and vulnerable, stomach pressed to the navy upholstery.

Rhaenyra didn’t wait. Her hands gripped Alicent’s hips, lifting them just enough to slide a cushion beneath, angling her up, ass raised, thighs parted. 

Alicent’s cheek pressed against the plaid throw, fingers curling into the fabric as she felt Rhaenyra’s bare shoulders brush the backs of her legs. 

The fabric of Rhaenyra’s trousers grazed her skin, a rough reminder that she was still half-dressed, her control a thin, fraying thread. Her heart pounded, anticipation curling tight in her gut. Rhaenyra’s hands spread Alicent’s thighs wider, her thumbs brushing the sensitive skin at the crease, and Alicent bit her lip, stifling a whimper. 

She felt exposed, raw, the cool air of the apartment kissing her slick skin before Rhaenyra’s breath replaced it, warm and teasing.

“Gods, you’re perfect,” Rhaenyra murmured, her voice thick with want, mouth watering, hovering just close enough to make Alicent squirm. She didn’t touch — not yet — just letting her breath ghost over Alicent’s pussy, drawing a shudder that made her hips twitch involuntarily.

“Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra was already gone, her hunger a living thing, clawing at her insides after months of starvation. 

She pressed her mouth to Alicent’s cunt, still no preamble, no gentleness, just a hot, open-mouthed kiss that made Alicent’s whole body jolt. Rhaenyra’s tongue dragged slow and deliberate at first, tasting the slick heat, savoring the way Alicent trembled beneath her. A moan vibrated against Alicent’s skin, Rhaenyra’s own need spilling out as she licked deeper, hungrier, her lips sealing around the sensitive bud and sucking hard.

Alicent gasped, her back arching, hips pressing back into Rhaenyra’s face as her thighs gave out. Rhaenyra’s hands tightened on her hips, holding her steady, fingers digging into soft flesh with just enough force to bruise out of it. She was relentless, tongue flicking and circling, then plunging inside, chasing every shudder, every choked sound Alicent couldn’t hold back. 

Wet, obscene sounds filled the room, mingling with Alicent’s gasps and Rhaenyra’s low groans, her nose pressed against Alicent’s skin as she devoured her like she’d never get enough.

It was good, so good, too good , and Alicent’s entire world narrowed to the sensation, the pleasure coiling tight in her core, building too quickly, too intense. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, that she’d snap, Rhaenyra drew back, taking a shuddering breath and giving her a moment’s reprieve.

Alicent's thighs trembled as she tried to shift, tried to take some weight off and ease the tension. Her nipples dragged against the fabric of the couch, and a small whine slipped out of her mouth. 

Rhaenyra gave her a smack for that. “Stop moving,” was all she said.

She leaned down again, tongue tracing Alicent's entrance, and Rhaenyra herself moaned with pleasure at the way it flickered against her. They'd never done it this way in the past, Alicent never being one to want to lose control or let go completely, but everything felt different now. She reached her hand out, twisting around to fist her fingers in Rhaenyra's hair.

Rhaenyra groaned at the sudden pull, and Alicent let out a gasp just as Rhaenyra’s tongue curled inside of her in one swift, brutal movement.

The orgasm hit fast and hard, tearing through her with no buildup, no warning. Just heat and light and Rhaenyra, everywhere, in her, around her, holding her together and breaking her apart in the same goddamn breath.

Alicent convulsed, body arching as she came, and Rhaenyra’s mouth stayed on her, prolonging it, fingers digging into her flesh. Her entire body was shaking, a string of moans and curses falling from her lips, the pressure building until it finally broke. She slumped forward, head pressing into the couch, trying to catch her breath. 

Rhaenyra's hands slid up to her back, soothing now, coaxing her to lay fully on the couch. "Easy," she cooed.

“Fuck you.”

Rhaenyra laughed, the sound vibrating across Alicent’s skin, a shiver trailing in its wake. She slid her hands beneath Alicent and flipped her over with enough ease that Alicent would’ve been offended if she wasn’t so impressed, and Rhaenyra settled fully atop her, a welcome weight. “You started it.”

Alicent let out something between a laugh and a broken sob. “You’re possessed.”

“I’m in love,” Rhaenyra corrected, nipping at her skin. “It’s way worse.”

And then she rolled off the couch.

Stood.

Unbuckled her pants with shaking hands.

Let them fall to the floor, boxers already soaked, sticking obscenely between her thighs. She toed them off and climbed back over Alicent, straddling her hips, flushed and wild and not even trying to hide it.

“You gonna help me,” she whispered, dragging her fingers down her own stomach, lower, lower still, “or do I have to fuck myself while you lay there looking gorgeous and useless?”

Alicent blinked up at her, dazed. “Gods,” she whispered.

But her hands were already reaching.

Rhaenyra moaned as Alicent’s hands gripped her thighs, fingernails dragging over her skin in a way that made goosebumps rise. There was a moment of awkwardness, a shuffle of limbs as Alicent shifted beneath her more fully, hands gripping at her waist to steady her. 

Fingers spread to span the curve of her hip bones, a possessive touch that made her shiver.

Alicent's hands didn’t rush, though. They slid up slowly, reverently, over the planes of Rhaenyra’s stomach, the slope of her waist, the underside of her breasts, tracing the lines of her tattoos, then up and up until her hands settled over them, thumbs teasing at her nipples.

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra groaned, her hips bucking at the contact. Her head dropped forward, eyes focusing on the way Alicent’s hands were cupping her, fingers pinching and rolling like she was something cherished, worshipped, not just something to take pleasure from. It made something primal thrum in her, and her nails dug into Alicent’s shoulders.

The desperation in her voice should’ve been embarrassing. Was embarrassing. But Alicent didn’t mock her. Not really. Her hands lowered and Alicent dragged her fingers through the soaked heat of her, hard, firm, but Rhaenyra was halfway gone by the time she took her pants off. She moaned, loud and open. Head tipping back as the muscles of her abdomen twitched under Alicent's touch.

“Oh, oh fuck,” she whispered, hips rocking into Alicent's palm without shame. “I'm — fuck — I'm gonna—”

“You just got on top of me,” Alicent said, grinning up at her like this was the best thing she'd ever seen. “Have some dignity.”

“Too late,” Rhaenyra choked out. Her voice broke on a moan as two of Alicent’s fingers slipped inside, slow but unrelenting, and Rhaenyra clenched down around them immediately, her thighs tensing.

"Oh, there you go." Alicent muttered, like she was having a conversation at brunch, like her fingers weren’t driving her out of her mind. Rhaenyra moaned again, the sound echoing loud around the room, and her hands flew up, grabbing the cushions near Alicent’s head, burying her face in it to muffle herself. “That good?” Alicent asked, almost conversationally, but her voice was rough, the rasp of fingers against fabric echoing through the pillow.

Rhaenyra didn’t answer.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. 

Because Alicent had her. Without question. Without mercy.

Her thighs clenched helplessly, fingers scrabbling at the cushion beneath her knees like she might claw her way back to composure. She couldn’t. There was no composure left. Just Alicent’s fingers inside her and the unbearable pressure of it. Then Alicent curled her fingers.

Once. Precisely.

And that was it.

Rhaenyra broke apart with a cry that barely made it out of her throat, head thrown back, spine arched so violently it looked painful. Her orgasm hit hard, brutal, blinding. She came so hard she actually saw white. She collapsed forward without grace. Right onto Alicent’s chest, gasping, wrecked. Her hair was plastered to her forehead. Her thighs were slick and still twitching.

Alicent wiped her soaked hand on Rhaenyra’s thigh, deliberately slow, like she wanted her to feel it.

“Did you just…” she started, then grinned, wide and delighted. “Already?”

“Shut up,” Rhaenyra groaned into the pillow, still twitching. She didn’t even have the strength to pull away. Her voice was muffled and mortified. “Don’t say anything.”

Alicent laughed, breathless and still a little shaky herself, and ran her hand soothingly down Rhaenyra’s back. “It’s okay. It was cute.”

Rhaenyra lifted her head, eyes narrowed. “ Don’t call it cute.”

“It is cute. Your whole face got red.”

Rhaenyra reached up, intending to tangle her fingers in Alicent’s hair, pull her down again, but Alicent caught her hand before it could reach its destination.

Alicent caught her wrist midair and didn’t let go. Their eyes locked. Rhaenyra’s still glassy with afterglow. Alicent moved. With a grunt and a flex of muscle, she shifted her weight and turned them over, rolling them. Rhaenyra let out a startled sound as her back hit the cushions, legs falling open instinctively, still uncoordinated from coming so hard. She landed with a bounce, hair fanned out beneath her, cheeks flushed and chest heaving.

“Hey—” she started to protest, but her voice caught when Alicent settled between her legs, one knee nudging higher, thigh pressed firm and possessive between Rhaenyra’s own. “What—?”

“I missed you,” Alicent murmured, pressing a kiss to Rhaenyra’s shoulder. Then another, just above her breast. “All the time.”

Rhaenyra’s breath caught. “Alicent…”

But Alicent wasn’t listening. Or maybe she was and she just didn’t care to stop.

She kissed the inside of Rhaenyra’s elbow, slow and deliberate. “I missed your voice.” Another kiss, lower now, between her ribs. “The way you laugh when you think something’s too stupid to be worth words.”

Rhaenyra let out a shaky exhale. Her chest arched slightly without meaning to.

Alicent kissed a faded ink line near her hip. That dragon curled into itself. “I missed your tattoos. This one, especially. I used to stare at it when you were asleep.”

“I knew you were a creep,” Rhaenyra managed to murmur, but her voice trembled.

Alicent smiled against her skin. “You didn’t complain.” She pressed a kiss to the curve of Rhaenyra’s stomach, slow and reverent. “I missed how warm you run at night. Like you’re always burning.” She moved lower. “I missed how you used to grab my wrist when you wanted me closer.” She kissed just above the bone of Rhaenyra’s hip, then below it, following a trail like memory. “I missed the sounds you make when you’re trying not to fall apart.”

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra breathed her name again, barely a warning.

But Alicent’s head was already between her thighs.

She kissed the inside of one, then the other. Not teasing, not taunting, just present. Her hands were steady where they gripped Rhaenyra’s hips, grounding her. And then she looked up, one last time, eyes darker now, shining with something fierce.

“I missed this,” she whispered. “The way you taste. ”

And then she lowered her mouth to her.

Rhaenyra forgot how to breathe.

The first pass of Alicent’s tongue was slow, sure, devastating. Not light. Not tentative. She licked like she meant it, like she needed it. And Rhaenyra let out a sharp, startled moan — one hand flying to her own mouth, the other gripping the couch cushion like it might keep her tethered.

But there was no staying still.

Rhaenyra’s hips were already rising up on their own, desperate for purchase, grinding up to Alicent’s face. She moaned when Alicent’s arms wrapped around her thighs, pulling her closer and pushing her legs even wider open. 

It felt like Alicent thought her purpose in that moment was drowning her, and she seemed wholly dedicated to the task. 

Rhaenyra’s eyes screwed shut, and her hands gripped the pillow so hard it went white at the seams as her fingers dug into the fabric, her entire body clenching at the sharp press of her tongue. She was hyper-aware of every sound she made, but she didn’t bother to muffle them anymore, a steady stream of moans and whimpers and curses that slipped past her lips and danced between the silence that lay in the air without embarrassment. 

Alicent moaned in response, just as loud, just as desperate, and if possible, she pressed even closer. That was all that mattered.

Nothing was too fast or too slow, just an ache that coiled deep inside her stomach and had Rhaenyra rocking against Alicent’s mouth, chasing her release mindlessly. “I’m gonna come,” she whined.

And Alicent didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch. She just held tighter, tongue flattening and dragging in just the right rhythm, her mouth slick and relentless, her grip on Rhaenyra’s thighs bruising and perfect. She didn’t say a word, didn’t need to, the low, hungry moan she let out into Rhaenyra’s cunt was enough to tip everything over.

Rhaenyra broke.

Her back arched, legs spasming against Alicent’s shoulders, and a sob tore from her throat — not from pain, not even from pleasure alone anymore, but from sheer overload. From how much she’d missed this. Missed her . The pressure crested and shattered all at once, hot and electric, pouring through her like wildfire. Her whole body locked, then unraveled, pulsing, clenching, soaking Alicent’s mouth as she came.

Hard.

So hard, it was nearly unbearable.

Alicent didn’t let go. Didn’t pull back. She kept going through it. Kept licking, kept sucking, kept coaxing every last twitch and cry from Rhaenyra’s trembling body like she was drinking her down. Rhaenyra sobbed again, trying to twist away, too sensitive now, hips jerking — but Alicent only loosened her hold slightly, kissed her inner thigh once, then twice, then rested her cheek there.

Rhaenyra gasped for breath, chest rising and falling, strands of silver hair plastered to her forehead, eyes wide and wet. She blinked up at the ceiling like she didn’t recognize it. Like she didn’t remember where they were.

Eventually, Alicent lifted her head. Her mouth was wet, chin slick, lips swollen and glistening.

She wiped her face with the back of her hand, then leaned up over Rhaenyra again, dark eyes gleaming with something possessive, satisfied, a little mean.

Alicent only smiled.

Then (and Rhaenyra should have known, should’ve expected) she leaned down and kissed her, slow and filthy, sliding two fingers into Rhaenyra’s open mouth, the same fingers she’d had buried inside her just minutes ago. She pressed them to her tongue as she kissed her, and Rhaenyra moaned low, humiliated and turned on all over again.

Alicent pulled away, slowly, and rested her chin low on Rhaenyra’s stomach, her hands still stroking soft patterns over her thighs, “I forgot how good you are at this.” Rhaenyra breathed.

"Everyone always said I had a good head on my shoulders."

"You're not funny."

Alicent didn’t answer. She just reached forward, slow and deliberate, and tucked a strand of silver hair behind Rhaenyra’s ear. 

Rhaenyra blinked at her, a lazy sort of smile tugging at her lips. “What?” 

“I missed your face,” she said softly. 

“That’s gross,” Rhaenyra murmured. “You’re gross.” But her voice cracked just a little.

Alicent snorted, then she shifted carefully, sliding up until her body was sprawled full-length on top of Rhaenyra, her head tucked under her chin, arms looped around her middle. It wasn’t comfortable, the couch was too small, her shoulder was at a weird angle, one of her legs was halfway off the edge, but Rhaenyra didn’t complain. She just held her tighter.

“You realize you’re sleeping on top of me,” she spoke lazily. “I’ll suffocate.”

Alicent cracked one eye open. “Go out happy.”

 They stayed like that. Breathing in sync. Bodies heavy and warm and wrecked in the best way. For the first time in too long, there was no tension in the stillness. Just closeness. Just them.

And then, quietly, Rhaenyra asked, “Stay the night?”

Alicent didn’t lift her head. “Yes.”

Rhaenyra’s voice was softer the second time. “And the night after that?”

A slow smile curved against her collarbone. “Mm-hm.”

A beat. The faintest trace of a grin against Rhaenyra’s neck.

“And the night after that?”

Alicent laughed, warm and tired. “Sure.”

The restaurant that sat on the 47th floor was the same even two years later. Not flashy, not trendy, but warm in a way money sure helped but couldn’t fake. Still underrated, still all warm wood and string lights (still trying very hard to look casual even though one might have to sell an organ to get a Friday night reservation).

Alicent stepped out the elevador and was immediately hit by three things in order: 

Her heels were too high.

The thong she'd worn — Rhaenyra's favourite, because of course, black lace and boderline unwearable — was digging so far up her ass she could pratically taste the stitching.

The place was empty. Too empy.

Alicent stood just inside the entrance, coat draped over her arm, her heels echoing a little too sharply across the polished floors. No other patrons. No murmured conversations. No clinking of glasses or ambient playlist humming from the speakers. She had her hair pinned up tonight, sleek, deliberate. There was a thin gold chain around her neck. Minimal makeup. Lips just slightly tinted. Silk green dress clinging to all the places it was supposed to, which was unfortunate, because she was sweating.

Fuck, Alicent should've worn a different underwear. Or no underwear at all. But no, she'd seen Rhaenyra's text that morning: wear something slutty, just for me — and against all common sense, she'd listened. And yes, it had taken an entire five minutes of internal debate to decide if wearing it made her pathetic or powerful. But then again, Rhaenyra always noticed. Always murmured some low-voiced fuck me under her breath when her fingers brushed the strap. So Alicent had worn it. Deliberately. Irritatingly.

But she looked beautiful, expensive. She looked composed. She didn't look like a woman who was about to claw her underwear out of her ass with both hands. She looked like the end of Rhaenyra’s world.

And she always had.

“Where is everyone?”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, chin propped on one hand. “I booked the whole place.” She was already sitting, lounging like she owned the entire restaurant, tattoos peeking just faintly from her wrists and throat, with a self-satisfied smirk that Alicent knew too well. Her silver hair was pinned back at the sides, a rare clean-up that somehow only made her look more dangerous.

“What?”

“Happy anniversary.” She replied. 

Alicent crossed the room slowly, eyes flicking to the empty tables. “This is a bit excessive.”

“Two years of not murdering each other. I think that deserves an empty rooftop and a $400 bottle of wine, minimum. Aren't I thoughtful?”

“What are you up to?”

“I’m just a woman,” Rhaenyra replied, unfolding her napkin with exaggerated care, “having dinner with her incredibly hot girlfriend in a very romantic, not-at-all-suspicious setting.”

“Rhaenyra…”

“Dinner first.” Rhaenyra lifted her hands in surrender. “You can yell at me later.”

“You’re lucky you’re hot.” Alicent relented, only because she was starving, and Rhaenyra was very, very charming when she wanted to be. 

“I am devastatingly lucky.”

They were on dessert now — espresso crème brûlée, which Rhaenyra insisted on ordering every time even though she never finished it. Alicent stole spoonfuls between sentences, unconcerned with pretense. They weren’t putting on a show anymore.

They hadn’t for a long time.

“And then she said the projections were ‘fluid,’” Alicent was saying, swirling her wine. “Fluid. Like that makes any fucking sense in financial modeling.”

Rhaenyra was watching her over the rim of her glass, smirking. “You terrify junior analysts.”

“Good. They should be terrified.”

“You’ve mellowed.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow. “Take that back.”

Rhaenyra smiled. “Fine. You're frightening, ghastly, creepy. Happy?”

Alicent didn’t reply, but there was a twitch at the corner of her mouth — a private smile, earned and held back just for her.

The waiter came by. Rhaenyra waved him off.

Alicent leaned forward slightly. “You’re quiet tonight. Considering this whole…” Her voice wavered off, looking around the closed restaurant just for them.

“Am I?”

“Mm-hm.”

Rhaenyra looked down at the table for a beat. The city lights painted soft shadows on her hands — the same hands that had once curled around Alicent’s wrist in a boardroom, furious and longing and unspeakable. They weren’t fighting anymore. And that still felt a little strange.

She tapped her thumb against the side of her glass. Then looked up.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said.

“Dangerous.”

“I know. But it’s been two years.”

“Indeed.”

Rhaenyra reached for her pocket. Pulled out something small. Square. Velvet.

Alicent froze. Her mouth went dry.

“Rhaenyra.”

“I know,” she said quickly. “It’s not what you think. Or maybe it is. I don’t know. I’m not good at this part.”

She turned the box in her hand, not opening it yet.

“I don’t believe in forever,” Rhaenyra said softly. “You know that. I don’t think the gods care what we promise each other. I don’t think love saves us. I don’t think fate is real, or whatever bullshit people write in songs.”

Alicent’s breath hitched. Her eyes were locked on the box. Still closed.

“But I do believe in choosing,” Rhaenyra went on. “And I’d love to stand here and tell you I choose you every day. That loving you is a choice, that I wake up and make it over and over again, like some well adjusted person would. But that’s not true. I don’t choose you. I don’t get to. Because you were never a decision I made — it’s just something that’s true. Even when I tried to hate you. Even when you left. Even when I begged myself to stop. You’re in me. And it’s not fair, and it’s not easy, and it’s definitely not convenient, but it’s always been you.”

She opened the box. Inside was a ring. Simple, elegant. Not flashy. But the band was forged in Valyrian steel. One-of-a-kind. Stronger than gold.

“So, I’m choosing this. I'm choosing a life with you. Choosing not having to say goodbye when you leave my bed.” There's a pause. “And I don’t want forever,” Rhaenyra continued. “I just want you. For as long as you’ll have me.”

Alicent’s hand covered her mouth. She didn’t cry, but she looked like she might.

“I know this isn’t how you imagined it,” Rhaenyra added quickly, voice a little hoarse. “There’s no violin quartet. No crowd. No perfect lighting. Just… me. Asking.”

Alicent shook her head, eyes shining. “No. This is—” Her voice broke. “This is exactly right.” Rhaenyra said nothing. Just waited. Alicent reached across the table. Took her hand. “Say it again,” she whispered.

“I don’t want forever,” Rhaenyra said. “I just want you.”

A beat. A breath. And then: “Yes.” 

Rhaenyra blinked. “Yeah?”

“Yes, you fucking idiot.” Alicent was laughing now, wet at the edges. “Put the damn ring on.”

Rhaenyra’s hands were trembling as she slid it onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. Alicent looked down at the ring on her finger, the Valyrian steel catching the light like it was holding fire. She turned her hand slowly, like she needed to prove to herself it was real. That this was happening. That they were happening.

“I can’t believe you,” she said, voice still a little wrecked.

“What?” Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, grinning like a cat in the sun.

“You proposed in a restaurant,” Alicent said, gesturing vaguely around them. “Valyrian steel?”

“Exactly. It’s symbolic.”

Alicent raised an eyebrow. “Of?”

“Us. Obviously. Beautiful. Dangerous. Rare. Not designed to be worn politely.” Rhaenyra tilted her head. “Also unbreakable, but like, sexy unbreakable. Not immortal soulmates or any of that cringe nonsense. Just — just  you and me. And a very expensive blade-turned-ring I may or may not have stolen from my father’s armory.”

Alicent covered her face with her free hand and exhaled a slow, shaky laugh. “You’re impossible.”

“You say that now, but you just agreed to marry me.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, but there was no real heat behind it. “Wait until morning. Maybe I’ll be sober enough to regret it.”

“Oh no, no, no,” Rhaenyra said, scooting her chair forward a few scandalous inches. “You don’t get to take it back now. You said yes. There was a ring and a monologue and everything.” Rhaenyra clarified, setting her glass aside as her voice dipped low. “And now that you’re officially mine, I think I’ve earned a reward.”

Alicent gave her a warning look. “Don’t start.”

But Rhaenyra was already sliding her hand beneath the table, fingertips drifting along the seam of Alicent’s thigh, slow and unhurried. “Oh, but you already started.” She murmured, mouth curled into a smirk. “You wore the green dress. You wore the necklace. Did you…?” Her fingers found it. The soft line of lace. The heat beneath it. Alicent stiffened. Her knees twitched shut — instinct, not resistance. Rhaenyra grinned, eyes gleaming. “Fuck, you are wearing it.”

“I swear to The Seven,” Alicent turned slowly to glare at her, face bright red, jaw tight. “We are in public . ”

Rhaenyra didn’t move her hand. Just stroked her thumb along the edge of the thong, maddeningly light. “I booked the whole restaurant for a reason.”

“Rhaenyra.”

“Yes, fiancée?”

Alicent swatted her hand away hard enough to rattle the silverware. Rhaenyra held up both hands in surrender, backing off with a smirk that said this isn't over.

“We’re not done,” she murmured under her breath, gaze dark and lingering. “I’m just pacing myself.”

Alicent exhaled sharply and reached for her wine like it might cool her down. It didn’t help that Rhaenyra was still looking at her like that: eyes heavy-lidded, lips parted, clearly imagining all the ways she planned to tear that thong off her the second they were alone. If she let it last that long.

But before she could say something snide, or stupid, or both, Alicent cleared her throat and asked, “Do we tell people?”

“I mean, I’m going to immediately text Laena and probably send Baela a picture of your hand with no context, so yes.”

“Classy.”

“You knew what this was.”

Alicent’s lips twitched. “Are we doing a wedding?”

“Not unless I can swear creatively during the vows,” she said. “And we have to consummate the union in the venue’s bathroom.”

“That’s your condition?”

“Vows should be honest,” Rhaenyra said, deadpan. “And what’s more honest than saying ‘I do’, then bending you over the sink?”

Alicent pursed her lips, pretending to consider. “That could be arranged.”

“Oh gods, you’re serious.”

“I’m serious about you.”

That shut Rhaenyra up for a moment. “Say that again.”

Alicent’s voice dropped into something soft and certain. “I’m serious about you.”

Rhaenyra reached for her hand again. “One more time. Just for me.”

“You’re going to be insufferable.”

“I’m already insufferable.”

Alicent laced their fingers together.

“I’m serious about you,” she whispered.

Rhaenyra leaned across the table and kissed her, slow and unhurried, just a press of mouths and breath and every promise they didn’t need to say out loud anymore. When she pulled back, she rested her forehead against Alicent’s, smiling.

“So… now that we’re engaged,” she murmured, “can I finally get that tattoo of your name on my —”

“Absolutely not.”