all the angels

December 20th, 1992

“Guess what I got,” Rhaenyra says in a sing-song voice as soon as she enters the office, completely oblivious to Alicent’s blank staring. She feels as if she’s been staring blankly at this board for the last three days, just waiting for something to happen. Very few cases in her career has she actually begged for another body to drop—for another clue. She can’t make sense of what they have in front of them. They have a basic profile, but nothing much more than that. Even the profile is shoddy—they still can’t decide if there’s one or two killers, if they’re a man or a woman. Everything is maybe maybe maybe. Alicent feels as if she’s never done as much guesswork in her life. 

Rhaenyra slides a piece of paper across the table and Alicent places her palm over it to stop its path, gazing at the text on the page. “Search warrant?”

“There’s your church, Hightower. Merry Christmas.”

“It’s not Christmas,” Alicent huffs, rising to her feet and crossing her arms. Rhaenyra sidles up next to her, shoulder brushing against Alicent’s, but she doesn’t flinch away. Instead, she presses against Rhaenyra, a silent acknowledgment of the touch. Taking something accidental and giving it purpose. “Sorry, I didn’t get you anything.” 

“Oh, please, your beautiful smile and exuberant personality are enough,” Rhaenyra teases, knocking Alicent’s shoulder lightly with hers. “We can go down there today if you want. I know the weather’s shit, but—”

“Weather’s always shit, let’s go.” Alicent needs to stay on the case. The more time they waste, the more time they spend sitting around the office together, the more Alicent starts to think about her dreams and how she had touched herself to the thought of Rhaenyra. It was a curse—she understands why desire has torn apart ment, torn apart civilizations. It is an undoing in and of itself. Her father always taught her that desire was the enemy of innocence, that it would destroy her. She was beginning to understand why. 

It’s not that she’s a virgin by any means, but the very few times she had decided to sleep with men the affairs were brief and to the point (for them). She never undressed, never let them look at her, never let them touch her outside of the necessity that such an act possessed. It was something entirely different from the complete and utter exploration of one another she had dreamt with Rhaenyra. The way Rhaenyra’s hands had been unafraid to roam every inch of Alicent’s skin, focused on her own pleasure rather than just using Alicent’s body as a means of getting off. It was exhilarating—in all the ways Alicent knew it shouldn’t be. 

“You good? You’ve seemed off lately. More than usual,” Rhaenyra draws her out of her gentle contemplation as the two of them begin to leave the office. The snow is coming down hard, but it shouldn’t be too impossible to drive in. Alicent has spent most of her life driving in the snow, so she grabs her keys out and unlocks her car before Rhaenyra can get any smart ideas about trying to navigate this storm. 

Alicent’s cheeks color slightly, but she’ll blame it on the freezing temperatures and the snow beginning to dot her eyelashes. “Yeah, sorry, Christmas is just… kind of a rough time on me.” 

It’s a half-truth. Technically, after the death of her mother, Christmas was very rarely celebrated in her household. She was either locked up in her room or her father would drink himself into a stupor by the time the holiday rolled around so there were no gifts to be found. Alicent stopped looking forward to the holiday around the age fifteen. Most holidays and celebrations became a thing of the past after the death of her mother. For a long time, Alicent forgot her own birthday. It wasn’t until she was looking into her records to move to America that she found her birth certificate—January 29th, 1959. A January birthday was fitting for her, she always thought—born in the darkest time of year, the month that drags on and on yet gives nothing in return. The darkest night, the coldest winter. It made sense to her. 

“That’s really it? Because I’m starting to think every day is a rough time for you,” Rhaenyra huffs, clearly bristling as if she can tell Alicent is trying to lie to her. It’s then that Alicent realizes that in their brief time working together, she has told very few lies. Rhaenyra somehow has a way of always coaxing the truth out of her. 

Alicent just opens her car door and slides into the drivers’ seat, slamming it a little harder than is probably necessary as Rhaenyra climbs in on the opposite side. The windshield is frosted over and Alicent groans slightly as she turns the car on, turning the defrosters on at full blast while wiping off the residual snow. They’re going to be here for a minute just waiting for the damn car to warm up. Alicent crosses her arms and prays that Rhaenyra will just drop it. The last thing she needs to know is that Alicent has been having a crisis of faith over the last week and it’s all because of her. 

And that’s what it is, really—a crisis of faith. She knows, to a degree, that doubt is the true friend of faith, but not doubt like this. This is a doubt she has never once dared to entertain. The idea that a God—a God who has already punished her so deeply—could make her like this. Could make such a monster of a woman, as if Alicent did not already have enough to deviate herself from every aspect of normalcy afforded to her. She had spent her entire life labeled as a freak, talked about around corners, avoided at all costs. And now He throws another challenge to her. Another temptation to resist. It would be laughable if it did not bring Alicent too much pain to bear. 

“Don’t tell me you’re still worried about what I think you’re worried about,” Rhaenyra finally says after the silence has passed in the car for too long. Rhaenyra had been tapping her fingers on the side of the door the entire time Alicent had refused to speak. She has found the woman does not deal with silence well—always clicking a pen, drumming her fingers on the desk, always doing something. 

She hates that Rhaenyra is right. That yet again the woman has seen right through her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, I know I make fun of you, but really, it doesn’t mean anything. Dreams are always weird, the minute you try and make sense of them, you forget all the important parts anyway,” Rhaenyra sighs, trying to level with Alicent. Alicent’s hands have a white-knuckled grip on the wheel despite the fact that they can’t go anywhere just yet. She watches the frost in the window begin to melt—small circles of clarity widening and widening with each passing second. “I mean, you’ve been in dreams of mine.”

Alicent’s eyes widen, turning to face Rhaenyra with one hand still on the wheel, “I’ve what?” 

Rhaenyra’s cheeks go pink and she turns away from Alicent, looking towards the frosted window instead. “I mean—yeah, every now and then.”

Alicent clicks her tongue, nodding firmly, “Uh huh. And what do we do in these dreams?”

“I think you know,” Rhaenyra whispers, finally turning and forcing her eyes back up to Alicent’s piercing gaze. A strange tension passes between them—similar to the way it felt when Rhaenyra had been about to get out of the car at the Leigh house. A tension where Alicent worries she’ll do something she knows she shouldn’t do—something she can’t do. “But it’s fine, it’s normal. We spend a lot of time together.” 

Looking in her eyes, Alicent doesn’t believe her, but she’s not going to push. She wonders if Rhaenyra is having a similar crisis that Alicent is and what that could mean for the two of them. She’s sure Rhaenyra might be hesitant to do anything with a co-worker considering her history, even if she and Rhaenyra are on the same standing. Not to mention Alicent… is Alicent. However, the prospect that Rhaenyra could be attracted to her only stands to make everything much much worse. Because now Alicent is thinking about it and she knows Rhaenyra is thinking about it. 

“Whatever, let’s just go,” Alicent huffs, deciding the windshield is defrosted enough as she shifts the car into reverse and begins to back out of her spot. The sooner they stop talking about this, the sooner Alicent can stop thinking about—all she does is think think think and she just wants it to stop for a minute. Just one minute she wants her mind to be completely clear. 

The storm continues and the morning in Connecticut is completely gray around them. Alicent’s dingy headlights do what they can to give her visibility, but it’s not the best. The ride to Litchfield is a longer one, but Alicent knows the way by heart with how many times they’ve been down there at this point. The church especially. She thinks those roads are imprinted on her brain, now, engraved into her memory like a name on a headstone. 

“How did you even know?” Alicent finds herself asking, keeping her eyes focused on the road and her grip on the steering wheel tight enough to cause the joints in her fingers to ache. Snow hits the windshield again (and again and again and again). “That you were… you know.”

“Why? Are you curious?” Rhaenyra asks, the teasing lilt back in her voice and despite that she is the subject of the mockery, Alicent is just grateful for a break in the tension that is rife between them. That has been ever since Alicent accidentally revealed what her stupid dream was about. If only Rhaenyra knew—if only she knew what Alicent had done. Shame builds like lead in her stomach as she keeps her eyes on the road.

“About you, yes. Don’t go getting any ideas,” she huffs, though she knows she’s a bad liar when it comes to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra hesitates and Alicent can practically feel her eyes boring holes in the side of Alicent’s head, but Alicent isn’t budging. She’ll keep up this charade as long as she needs to. As long as she must. She thinks Rhaenyra simply won’t answer, but after a moment she clears her throat, “I honestly didn’t think about it much, I just knew that… guys were never really my thing. I tried, but nothing ever felt good. And then a girl hit on me for the first time and I realized that was… an option. And I liked it. It felt… good for the first time in my life. I don’t know. It’s different for everybody.” 

Alicent chuckles before she can help it. She can almost feel Rhaenyra bristle beside her. “What?”

Alicent shakes her head, “Nothing, I’m just trying to picture you as some shy twenty-year-old getting hit on for the first time. It’s funny.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad you find me discovering my sexuality hilarious, at least I’m not the one discovering wet dreams at the ripe age of thirty-three.”

“I will crash this car, Targaryen,” Alicent spits, though there’s little malice in her tone. Instead, she just laughs. A real laugh, giddiness building in her stomach and spilling past her lips. A moment passes and then Rhaenyra is laughing with her, the two of them louder than the soft drone of the radio, louder than the snow pelting the windshield. It feels good—to laugh with Rhaenyra. 

“I’m not—okay, yes, I’d never had one before, are you happy?” Alicent admits, still catching her breath. The car feels warmer than it was before as she dares to dart a look over to Rhaenyra. “Congratulations, you were my first.”

Rhaenyra places a hand over her heart, a residual chuckle falling from her lips. “I’m honored, Hightower, really. I’m glad our friendship has reached new heights, just like you probably reached new heights in your—”

“Shit, hold on,” Alicent interrupts her (highly inappropriate) joke as she sees headlights swerving toward her. Another car is skidding on the ice from the other lane and cutting into theirs, heading straight for them. Alicent swerves the car onto the shoulder, feeling the rough skid of ice and snow beneath her tires as her hand slams down on the horn, letting the other driver know through the storm that someone is there.

The car slides off into the snowbank as the other driver manages to straighten themselves up and carry on as if nothing has happened. Alicent grips the wheel, heavy pants falling from her lips as she shifts the car out of drive, taking a moment. “God, I hate people who don’t know how to drive in the snow. You okay?”

She turns and finds Rhaenyra just staring at her, chest heaving. “Yeah, yeah, fine.” 

“Great,” Alicent huffs, trying to ignore the way her hands are shaking. That could have easily gone far worse, but it didn’t. She’s here, her car half buried in a snowbank, but she’s here. “Let’s get going, we’re almost there.”

She shifts the car in reverse and tries to back out, back onto the road, but nothing happens. She can feel the wheels spinning, the engine revving, but nothing happens. After a moment, Alicent groans. “We have to dig the car out.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Alicent says with a huff, opening the driver’s side door before Rhaenyra can say anything else. She opens her trunk where she keeps a shovel and a brush for these sorts of occasions (growing up in the snow, you learn to keep these things within an arm’s reach just in case). She heads towards the back tires and begins digging out tracks behind them, trying to give the tires enough space to grip the ground and get moving. Rhaenyra just watches her, snow falling around both of them. 

Rhaenyra just watches her and Alicent hates that she can still feel the heat of the woman’s gaze despite the freezing temperatures. She hands the brush over to Rhaenyra. “Go clean off the windshield and maybe brush around the front tires, it’ll help.” 

Despite her coat and gloves, she can feel the cold in her bones as she digs around the tires, cars passing by occasionally on the road. God—she can’t wait for winter to be over. Ever since the first snow fell in early November, it had yet to let up. Normally, Alicent didn’t mind. She liked the quiet of it all—waking up and finding the world coated in a soft blanket of pearly white. However, with this case driving her mad, there was nothing more she wanted than a peaceful, not-snowy day. Maybe if things started melting, she’d find the things she needed. Instead, the snow got heavier, the nights longer, and the days colder. It was unrelenting, as nature always was, but it couldn’t help but feel more and more like a punishment each and every day the storms continued. 

“Does this happen… to you often?” Rhaenyra asks, her voice cutting through the quiet falling of the snow. The storm is seemingly starting to let up, though that’s a generous way of putting it. It’s still falling (and falling and falling) though, it’s always falling. 

Alicent just peers at her over the top of the car, brow furrowed, “You lived in New York and you’re telling me you’re not prepared for spinning off in the snow?”

Rhaenyra just snorts and shakes her head, “New York knows how to salt their roads. Besides, I didn’t have a car until I knew I was gonna be coming down here. Never needed one in the city.”

Alicent has been so far removed from a big city for so long—not that New Haven is particularly small, not small in the way a town like Litchfield is, but it’s nowhere near the metropolitan palace Rhaenyra hails from—she tries to conjure the image of Rhaenyra as some big city cop in her head. She’d come out of a yellow taxi, maybe with a blazer and a cigarette like she’s in The Long Goodbye. The thought of it almost brings a smile to Alicent’s face, despite the fact that she’s chilled to the bone right now. 

“Is that why you drive such a piece of shit? You just bought a hunk of junk to get you down here?”

“I’ll show you a hunk of—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” Alicent chastises, a small laugh bubbling past her lips before she can help it. “God, you’re impossible today.”

“I’m always impossible, you’re just finally starting to like it,” Rhaenyra hums with a sort of self-satisfaction to her tone as she circles around the car where Alicent is still digging out divots in the snow to hopefully get the tires through. She leans against the back of the car where the engine is still rumbling, hands in her pockets. 

Alicent plants the end of the shovel in the snow, leaning on the handle. “I don’t like it.”

“I’ve never heard you laugh this much in the entire time I’ve known you.” 

“You’ve known me three weeks.”

“That short, huh?” Rhaenyra comments, sounding almost short of breath when she does. Alicent can see the puff of breath that follows her words, a small cloud of warmth in a cold, cold sky. “Feels like a lifetime.”

Alicent lets out a low hum of disapproval, “You’re sick of me already?”

She avoids Rhaenyra’s eyes when she asks this, but she can feel the gaze still lingering on her. “Not even a little bit.”

She raises her head, eyes lining back up with Rhaenyra’s. Something unsaid passes between them—everything feels unsaid lately, unsaid unsaid unsaid. Alicent doesn’t know how to talk to her, not really, not about this. She doesn’t want to talk about it. She wants to shove it down until she stops feeling this way because she will stop feeling this way. Alicent will make sure of it. She shouldn’t be feeling this way—whatever this way is—it’s sinful, it’s deceitful. She can repeat these things to herself over and over again, but it’ll never stop her eyes from lingering on Rhaenyra longer than they should. 

“Hightower,” Rhaenyra’s firm voice draws her out of her stupor and Alicent shakes her shoulders—a vain attempt to shake herself out of it. “I think we can get the car out by now.” 

Alicent looks down at the tracks she’s made behind the tires, snapping herself out of her own mind. “Right, right. Let’s get going then.”

“Thank God, it’s freezing out here,” Rhaenyra huffs, rubbing her hands together in a vain attempt to generate warmth before climbing back in the car. Alicent follows not long after her, grateful for the warmth of her car. The change from cold to warm makes the tips of her fingers go numb when she pulls them out of her gloves, flexing her hands over and over until she gets the feeling back. Rhaenyra just watches her—watches her hands. “Okay—ready to go storm a church?”

Alicent chuckles, “We’re not storming anything.”

She puts the car in reverse, a hand on the passenger side seat as she turns around, trying to see through the snow on her back windshield. Beside her, over the sound of the heat blasting, she swear she can hear Rhaenyra’s breath hitches. She hates the way the sound makes her feel, hates the way it causes heat to build in the pit of her stomach, the same way it built when she was in the shower picturing Rhaenyra on her knees. At this point, Alicent is starting to think the only way to stop thinking about it will be to lobotomize herself. 

The tires dig against the snow and Alicent prays under her breath—an old habit, one she’ll never break. After a moment, the tires get enough grip and she’s able to back out of the snow bank and get back on the road. Alicent breathes a deep sigh of relief, shooting a breathless smile over at Rhaenyra as they carry on driving. 

“What do you think we’ll find in there?” Rhaenyra hums, running a hand through her hair. Alicent does her best to keep her eyes on the road, grip tight on the steering wheel. 

“I don’t know,” Alicent answers after a moment, her voice distant. Christmas music plays softly over the radio and Alicent rushes to change the station, Cold by The Cure halfway through on the next station over. Alicent lets it play. “I hope we just find something. I mean… don’t you feel sick of this? We’ve been doing nothing but grasping at straws for three weeks—three weeks for you, months for me. David died and we have nothing to show for it.”

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra levels with her, her voice firm. “We’re doing our due diligence. Cases like this, we either need to wait for the killer to slip up or for them to make themselves known to us.”

“They have—the poppy, the deer—”

“We still don’t know if the deer was them, it could have just been a waylaid hunter who didn’t feel like chasing their kill.”

“At twelve at night?”

“Whatever. What I’m trying to say is: we’re doing what we can, Alicent,” Rhaenyra assures her, sitting up in the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “These killers don’t want to be found and they’ve done a good job at making sure that won’t happen. If we go to this church and we find nothing, then we try again. We keep trying.”

“Until another body drops and then another and then it’s one of us,” Alicent groans, feeling frustration build within her. She is sick of doing nothing. “I feel… I feel like they’re doing this to us on purpose. We’re just mice in a maze to them. Don’t you feel sick of it?”

“Of course, I feel sick of it!” Rhaenyra raises her voice and Alicent flinches before she can help it. She swallows around the lump in her throat, trying to focus on the song playing in the car—everything as cold as ice. Can no one save you? When Rhaenyra speaks again, her voice is quieter, “Sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“You can raise your voice around me, I’m an adult.”

Rhaenyra sighs, “I don’t want to raise my voice with you. I just—of course, I’m sick of it, Alicent. It’s been three weeks, but it’s felt like lifetimes and lifetimes of nothing. I’m honestly surprised they haven’t just given up on it.”

“There’s too much, too many bodies,” Alicent mutters, shaking her head slightly. “We’d never hear the end of it. This is a targeted attack on a small community, we need to solve this. I think we can, we just need… I don’t know. I used to be better at this. Something about this case—I’m not at my best.”

“It’s your personal history, I get it.” Rhaenyra’s voice is gentle, calm as if she’s trying to wade through Alicent’s frustration and get to the heart of her. Alicent doesn’t like it—she doesn’t need Rhaenyra close, she hates that she wants Rhaenyra close. That the woman is good at getting through all of Alicent’s walls, that she sees right through her. She hates it, she hates it—until she doesn’t. “But the personal history isn’t blinding you to this case. It’s a tough case. One of the worst I’ve seen in my career. That’s nothing against you. There’s a reason they kept you on this—you’re the best. If anyone can solve this, it’s going to be you.”

“It doesn’t feel like it,” Alicent huffs, turning off the road and getting down into the neighborhoods where the church lies. She feels a terrible feeling crawling up her neck, the way she feels every time she gets closer to this church. She thinks of the priest—the way he seemed to see the worst parts of her, the ugliness she’s worked so hard to push down. One word and he had it all rising to the surface. She swallows down the feeling of bile rising in her throat. “It feels like a game of cat and mouse. And we’re next.” 

“We are not next.”

Alicent pulls up in front of the church, hands still gripping the wheel as she turns off the car, looking over at Rhaenyra. “I’m sure David thought the same thing. Now look at him. I don’t… I don’t want the same thing happening to you.”

Rhaenyra sighs, biting her lip as her shoulders deflate a bit. “You think I do? But we can’t stop doing our jobs or rush things out of fear. We have to cover all of our bases, we need this to be iron-clad. A case like this, there’s too many loose ends, too many moving pieces, if we catch someone and it goes to trial we need to be sure. This is us covering our bases. Eventually, we’ll find something.”

“Eventually,” Alicent groans, leaning until her forehead hits the steering wheel. “I hate that word. I hate all of this. My job used to be fun.” 

“Catching serial killers is fun for you?”

“Yes!” Alicent exclaims, sitting up so she can look at Rhaenyra. “I used to be good at this. I never used to get stumped until…”

“Until I came along?”

“No, no,” Alicent shakes her head. “Not that.” 

“So, you never used to get stumped until what?”

Alicent looks over at Rhaenyra, resisting the urge to reach out to her. She never used to be the one reaching. It was always everyone reaching over to her and Alicent pulling back, always pulling back. Yet here she is, looking over at Rhaenyra, and wishing she could just touch her. Her eyes betray her, darting down to Rhaenyra’s lips before she can stop herself. She pulls them back up to meet her gaze after a flicker of a second, but it’s too late—Rhaenyra already noticed. She’s always noticing. Always noticing everything Alicent desperately tries to hide. 

“Let’s just go check out this stupid church.” Alicent tears her gaze away from Rhaenyra, trying to ignore the chill that runs down her spine when she thinks about what could happen if she were to reach out—to grab Rhaenyra by the lapels and taste. She can feel her breaths quickening, reaching for the car door and stepping out into the cold before she can do anything she’ll regret. She slams the door harder than she should, relishing in the small rush that comes with the force of it. 

When Rhaenyra steps out of the car, she’s frowning at Alicent. “You’re way in your head today.”

“I’m in my head all the time, I’m a detective,” Alicent deflects, untying her hair and tying it back up in a ponytail. Here—the snowfall isn’t as bad as it was before, but it’s still nowhere near clear. Alicent shivers, feeling the cold down to her core. She avoids Rhaenyra’s gaze as much as she can, wrapping around the car and coming up to her side. “Don’t worry about me, Rhaenyra. It’s not… it’s not a concern for the case.”

Rhaenyra leans against the side of the car, a hand on her hip as she peers down at Alicent. “So what is it? You can talk to me.”

“Not about this,” Alicent shakes her head, biting the inside of her cheek until she tastes blood. “I’m sorry, Rhaenyra. I just can’t.”

“Look, you know we’re more than just partners, Alicent.” Rhaenyra’s voice is low as she faces Alicent. Her cheeks and the tips of her ears are tinged pink from the cold and Alicent really just wants to get inside and check out this church so they can check another box and maybe find something. Instead, all she can do is stand here and think about the fact that Rhaenyra is so close to her. She watches the rise and fall of Rhaenyra’s chest, the way she says partners like it means something. She holds her breath, waiting to see what Rhaenyra will say. “We’re friends. I know you’re not used to having those, but friends can tell each other anything. Whatever it is you’re dealing with, if it’s the holidays or stuff with your dad, just talk to me about it. I promise, I’ll do my best to understand.”

Alicent chews her bottom lip and for a fleeting, barely there moment she considers telling Rhaenyra the truth. I can’t stop dreaming about you. I can’t stop thinking about what it might be like to kiss you. I’d rather throw myself down on the cross than admit any of these things out loud, but I still don’t think that’ll stop me from trying. 

She opens her mouth, but the words don’t fall out. Instead, she says, “It’s cold. Let’s just get inside and do what we came here to do. We can worry about everything else when we’re not working.”

For a moment, she thinks Rhaenyra is going to argue with her—she wouldn’t be surprised. Alicent has always loved to argue, but she thinks Rhaenyra might be the one person who loves it more. Instead, though, Rhaenyra just nods, “Okay, you’re right. Work hours, we’re working. Maybe tonight we can… go for a drink or something. You clearly need it.” 

“I don’t need anything,” Alicent huffs. What she needs is to stop conjuring these images of Rhaenyra in her mind. She’s afraid of herself, her own mind, the things she’ll do. It’s a curse. “I need to solve this case.” 

“Lead the way, then,” Rhaenyra hums, motioning to the looming gothic front doors of the church. “I’m buying you a drink, though.”

“Fine, let’s just go,” Alicent huffs, chuckling softly as Rhaenyra pulls the folded warrant out of her jacket. 

They open the doors and Alicent notes the lights are off. Rhaenyra goes for the switch, but Alicent stops her, shaking her head softly. She pulls her flashlight out of her pocket and flicks it on, calling out, “Father Lawson? It’s Special Agent Hightower. I’m here with Special Agent Targaryen. We have a warrant to search the premises under suspicion of your involvement with the case. If you come out now, we’ll just have a few words and take a look around.” 

There’s no response—not even the shuffle of someone moving around. The building just feels empty. Rhaenyra looks at Alicent and shrugs, the two of them deciding to go ahead and take a look around. 

“The door to the basement is over there, we should check that out first,” Alicent nods towards a side section of the main room, over by the altar, where she knows a door will lead to a set of stairs that will take them down. They beeline for it, Alicent having already seen this main room too many times to count.

Her gaze lingers on the altar a bit too long. Light streams in through the stained glass window and for a moment, she can almost see the image of David strung up. Alicent can feel Rhaenyra staring at her. She shakes it off, turning back towards the door. 

“Come on, let’s go. Let’s find our necklace.”

Rhaenyra nods and opens the door slowly, the two of them looking down at the staircase that plunges down into the depths. “God, I feel like we’re in some shitty horror B-movie.”

“You shouldn’t take the lord’s name in vain,” Alicent chastises, her voice bored. “We’re in a church.” 

Before Rhaenyra can take the first step, they hear it—a distinct thump. The two of them look at each other, the noise coming from across the church.

“That was from the office,” Alicent comments, eyes darting towards the room the noise had come from. “Maybe our priest is here, he’s just hiding from us.”

“Which means he has something he doesn’t want found.” Rhaenyra closes the door, nodding over to the office and taking a step. Alicent follows close behind. Rhaenyra stops with her hand on the door knob, calling out, “Father Lawson?”

When there’s no response, Rhaenyra tries to turn the handle—nothing. 

“Rhaenyra, I don’t like this,” Alicent whispers, her hand reaching out to grab the sleeve of Rhaenyra’s jacket before she can help herself. Rhaenyra turns to look at her, shifting until she has Alicent’s hand in hers.

“We have to know. Like you said, you’re sick of waiting for this case to jump out at you. We have a warrant, we heard the noise, we can break down this door.” 

Alicent sighs and stands back, pulling her hand out of Rhaenyra’s and trying to ignore the way her heart flutters at the simple touch. Rhaenyra takes a step back, looking at the door before shooting a look at Alicent, “I haven’t done this in a while and I’ve been slacking on my training—”

“Just kick the fucking door, Rhaenyra.” 

Rhaenyra groans and steps back, bracing herself before kicking the door right near the knob. It cracks on the first try and Rhaenyra straightens out, shimmying her shoulders and looking far too proud of herself. She shoots a breathless smile over to Alicent who just shakes her head. 

“Let me go first.” Alicent pushes past her when Rhaenyra makes an attempt to enter the room. She still has that unease, the creeping feeling she always gets when something is wrong. She pulls out her service revolver, keeping it low by her side but still at the ready. 

She steps into the office, but before she can reach for the lightswitch—she feels something beneath her foot. A puddle. 

Alicent shines her light down to her boots. Deep red sinks into the carpet, squelching around her shoe. She holds out an arm, not letting Rhaenyra take another step. 

“What is it?”

Alicent creates a slow trail with her light, dragging it from the puddle at her foot up to the source. She stumbles back, nearly crashing into Rhaenyra, but the woman catches her with a firm hand on her waist. 

There—on the wall—is Father Lawson. Nailed to a cross. 

Alicent sees the note first, Rhaenyra’s eyes following her line of sight. Disgusted, horrified, she reads, “Eli, eli, lama sabachthani?” 

My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?