Alone & Forsaken

“This world is cruel to women who do not play by its rules. I have seen it chew up girls far stronger than you. So yes, I am hard on you, Alicent. But only because I want you to survive it. To thrive in it. For that to happen, you must follow the script.”

Alicent went about her usual routine the next morning as if Rhaenyra had never knocked on her door only to be sent away.

She got out of bed and straightened the sheets. Alicent's days followed a pattern she rarely deviated from.

Wake up. Shower. Eat. Clean. Wash clothes (one day yes, one day no. Today was the no day). Check the power and water. If something was wrong, fix it. If not, move on. Visit the grave, stay there in silence for a while, then go back home. Examine the objects she still didn't understand and listen to music while doing so. Maybe figure out what they were for. Maybe not.

Next: go out to collect, return home before the sun disappeared. More music. Organize her new findings on the shelves. Sit on the couch and watch a movie. Sleep.

And then do it all over again the next day.

Crunchy wasn’t in the best mood. He remained still on the wall, completely ignoring Alicent’s presence.

“Good morning to you too.”

Crunchy didn’t respond, obviously. Alicent knew animals only talk in movies. He stayed where he was, his antennae not even twitching.

Fine. Let him be grumpy. She had other things to do.

Alicent stepped into the small bathroom and let the water run over her body.

She liked taking showers. It was probably her third favorite thing to do. First came movies, then music. The water helped her push away thoughts she didn’t want to dwell on.

She was definitely not thinking about Rhaenyra.

Not at all.

But… Alicent had seen what the world was like. Empty, crumbling, dangerous. There were places even she wouldn’t go.

Rhaenyra was out there wandering alone. Had she found shelter? Had she found food?

Alicent pressed her forehead against the wall. Why was she even thinking this? She wasn’t supposed to care. She didn’t even know Rhaenyra. Just her face. Besides, Rhaenyra seemed more than capable of taking care of herself.

By the time Alicent turned the water off, the room was warm. Steam curled around the edges of the mirror. She didn’t look at it. She rarely did.

Crunchy was still on the wall when Alicent passed by, towel wrapped around her. She flicked a droplet of water in his direction, just to annoy him. His little wings shivered—finally, a reaction—but he stayed stubbornly in place.

She toweled off and dressed in her usual layers. Time to eat.

Alicent’s gaze fell on the photos she kept of Rhaenyra as she walked toward the cabinet.

What if Rhaenyra was hurt? What if she was trapped somewhere? What if she was—

The lights flickered. Once. Twice. Then went out completely.

Alicent hated that.

Without power, there were no lights. No water. No music. No movies.

Normally, everything worked fine, as long as she kept up with maintenance.

Crunchy moved on the wall. The stubborn little thing, silent and moody all morning, finally decided to crawl toward her.

“Oh,” she murmured. “Now you come to me?”

Crunchy stopped beside her. He liked the dark more than the light; Alicent had lived with him long enough to know that. He was just making sure she was okay.

“Stay here, I'm going outside to see what happened.”

Crunchy didn’t listen to her. He never did, always doing whatever he wanted. Alicent didn’t know why she even bothered trying.

The faint daylight barely broke through the gray clouds overhead outside. Crunchy followed Alicent as she headed toward the small storage shed. She had two of them side by side, right behind her house—or her adapted container, as Rhaenyra had called it. One housed the power batteries, the valves, and the electric water pump. The other stored things she would need eventually but not right now, like her large stock of protein.

Alicent tried not to imagine the worst-case scenario, that the batteries had died for good. She opened the shed door and froze with her hand on the doorknob as soon as she saw someone else already inside.

Rhaenyra stood in front of the cabinet, one hand resting on the metal frame, the other fiddling with the batteries she had absolutely no business touching.

“Oh,” Rhaenyra said, sensing Alicent’s presence there. She didn't look embarrassed at being caught messing with things that didn’t belong to her. “Hey, Alicent. Good morning!”

Alicent opened and closed her mouth, unsure of what to say. Rhaenyra shouldn’t be here. She should be far away, back to wherever she came from.

“I noticed the panels installed on the top of the container, though this is even more impressive,” Rhaenyra gestured vaguely at the batteries, unbothered by Alicent's silence. “You’re running everything on off-grid solar power.”

Crunchy stopped in front of Rhaenyra, waiting for some acknowledgment. She had the decency to glance down at him but didn’t greet him. Alicent couldn’t understand his excitement. Had he already forgotten that Rhaenyra tried to kill him the night before?

“The way you’ve routed the energy through the inverters was very smart,” Rhaenyra said, staring at Alicent again. “I wouldn’t have expected someone like you to figure all this out.”

Alicent frowned. What did Rhaenyra mean by ‘someone like you’?

She had so many questions fighting to be asked, but Rhaenyra kept talking.

“Although, I saw that the other containers have a similar layout. Did you build this little community yourself or was it already here when you arrived?”

Alicent didn’t answer, instead, she asked, “What are you doing?”

“I shut off the batteries to check their status,” Rhaenyra explained casually. “They were underperforming.”

“You… what?”

“They were underperforming,” Rhaenyra repeated, like that explained everything. “I noticed some inefficiencies in your energy output. Small ones, but they were there. Your energy storage was operating at 62% efficiency. I disconnected it to recalibrate and check for faults.”

Crunchy twitched his antennae at Rhaenyra, impressed. Alicent, however, was not.

“I didn’t ask you to do that,” she muttered. “I don’t need you fixing my things.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, as if Alicent were the irrational one here. She opened her mouth to speak, but Alicent pushed her aside to face the cabinet. She examined the intricate network of wires, circuits, and the large solar batteries that powered her home.

“If you need help, I’m more than capable—”

“I don’t,” Alicent said, not even looking at her. “Just… stay there. And don’t touch anything.”

She reconnected the systems Rhaenyra had so helpfully disconnected. Alicent hooked everything back up and tested the voltage, watching as the batteries hummed back to life. See? She didn’t need Rhaenyra’s interference. She’d been maintaining this setup long before the android showed up.

Alicent sighed, shutting the cabinet a little harder than necessary. She moved to check the water valves next. Since she was already here, she might as well inspect those too. Her hand ran over the worn valves. They felt oddly lighter to the touch, usually, they were stiffer. Other than that, everything seemed normal.

“I suppose you’d like to know that I lubricated the valves,” Rhaenyra commented beside her. “They’re now 47% more responsive.”

Alicent turned to look at Rhaenyra. “You messed with the water valves too?”

Crunchy froze as Alicent’s voice sharpened, sensing a storm he wanted no part of. He settled on a spot near the electric pump.

“Yes,” Rhaenyra replied, looking very pleased with herself.

Alicent studied Rhaenyra’s expression. Why was she doing all of this? Alicent had asked Rhaenyra to leave her alone.

Then, the realization hit Alicent. Rhaenyra was just doing her function.

“Did you collected anything?” Alicent asked.

Rhaenyra leaned forward. “Excuse me?”

“You said that was your function, to collect information.”

“Oh, yes. It’s one of many. I do more than that, actually. In case you didn’t know, I’m the most expensive Android model, precisely because I can perform so many functions.” Rhaenyra lifted her chin slightly, almost as if she were bragging. “Collecting information isn’t particularly unique, all androids do it. It’s basic functionality. Otherwise, we wouldn’t remember anything.”

Alicent’s brow creased. “Then why did you touch my batteries and my valves?”

Rhaenyra tilted her head again, seeming to find the question strange. “I only wanted to help,” she said simply. “I thought you would appreciate the effort.”

“Oh.” Alicent’s voice was flat. “You weren’t helping.”

Rhaenyra did the opposite of helping, actually. She interrupted Alicent’s perfect morning for nothing at all.

Crunchy rubbed his forelegs together, like a little creature applauding the drama.

“I improved your water valves,” Rhaenyra pointed out. “That is helping.”

Even if whatever Rhaenyra did had made the valves easier to handle, Alicent was already used to the way they were supposed to feel. If one was stiff, she knew exactly how much force to apply. Besides, she didn’t like the idea of someone messing with them. They were important and required careful handling.

“You shouldn’t have touched them. You don’t know how it work, Rhaenyra.”

“If it’s my lack of knowledge with the equipment that concerns you, I can assure you I have plenty of expertise in the matter. The water comes from the well,” Rhaenyra began, walking toward the pump and gesturing toward it. “It’s drawn up by the electric pump, which—”

“I know,” Alicent cut in. She knew it all that like she knew the lines from her favorite movies, like she knew what song would play when she dropped the needle. But Rhaenyra kept going anyway.

“—which then pushes the water through these pipes here,” she tapped one gently, “into your container. The flow pressure is regulated by the main and secondary valves controlling how fast the water moves and in which direction it flows.”

Alicent's nails dug into the side of her pants. She was starting to get irritated.

“I know all of that,” she said again, more forcefully this time.

Rhaenyra paused mid-gesture, her hand hovering over a valve like she was about to give another lecture. “I was only making sure.”

Alicent rolled her eyes and crouched beside the water pump. She checked all the things she already knew like back of her hand. Right to her left, Crunchy clung to a corner of the pump, watching her. It was working fine and didn’t seem to have fallen victim to Rhaenyra’s hands.

Alicent made a mental note to lock the sheds later when she went out to collect. They were always left unlocked. But now with Rhaenyra around, she couldn’t leave anything exposed.

“Don’t touch my things again,” Alicent said once she finished checking. “They’re mine to handle, not yours.”

“Noted,” Rhaenyra gave a thumbs-up, completely oblivious to Alicent’s dwindling patience. “Next time, I’ll ask for permission before touching anything.”

There wouldn’t be a next time. Rhaenyra had to leave. Disappear. Let Alicent alone and not interfere with her routine.

“I told you to leave,” Alicent said, as soon as they stepped out of the small shed.

Rhaenyra’s expression didn’t change. “You told me to leave your house, not the outside. Besides, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other now that we’re neighbors.”

“What?” Alicent nearly choke on the word.

“I moved in last night. You probably didn’t hear me because you were too busy sleeping.” Rhaenyra gestured toward the nearly identical container next to Alicent’s. Same shape. Same size. Just a different color. “You’re more than welcome to stop by anytime. It’s not as full of stuff as yours, but I’ll get there. Speaking of which, I found some things I think you might like…”

Alicent stared at the container, then back at Rhaenyra, who simply couldn’t keep her mouth closed.

No.

No, no, no.

Alicent had shut the door on Rhaenyra last night, certain that by morning, she would be gone. She was supposed to vanish like everyone else from the past, not set up camp right next to her.

“You can’t stay here,” Alicent finally said, cutting off whatever Rhaenyra was rambling about.

“Why not?” Rhaenyra looked around. “Last I checked, there wasn’t a ‘No Androids Allowed’ sign around here.”

Of course there wasn’t. The world was dead. There were no rules, except the ones Alicent made for herself. But if she could write, she’d probably make that sign Rhaenyra spoke of right now, bold and clear.

“I don’t see any reason why I shouldn’t stay,” Rhaenyra rocked back and forth on her heels, her hands behind her back. “You don’t have to be alone here anymore. We can help each other. Take care of each other. Keep each other company. Maybe we should schedule a weekly dinner? Game nights?”

“No.”

“No to which part?”

“All of it.”

It wasn’t the company that bothered Alicent, quite the opposite, she could use some of that. The problem was how Rhaenyra was. Alicent liked order, routine. And the way her space had been invaded, the way her systems had been touched without her consent, proved that Rhaenyra was the opposite.

“Understood. I still think we should at least have a little neighborhood welcome. I’ll throw a party, you’re more than invited.”

“A party?” Alicent repeated. “There’s only two of us here.”

Crunchy climbed onto Alicent’s boot, wiggling his antennae. “And Crunchy,” she added.

“It’ll be an intimate gathering,” Rhaenyra replied, “just for close acquaintances.”

Alicent didn’t know how to define what she and Rhaenyra were to each other, but she was certain close acquaintances wasn’t it.

Even so, for a brief second, she actually considered going. She’d never been to a party before, and the idea of being part of one, no matter how small, was intriguing. But then the old voice of reason kicked in—the one that had kept her alive this long. Distractions lead to mistakes. Mistakes lead to failure.

“Thanks for the invitation, I'll think about it,” Alicent said, though she already knew she wouldn't go.

She turned away, determined to ignore Rhaenyra and return to her usual routine. Now it was time to visit the grave. Technically, she should have eaten and cleaned the house first, but she'd handle that later. It was better to resolve everything that needed to be resolved outside now that she was there.

Her feet carried her along the familiar path. From the corner of her eye, she caught Crunchy’s small form. She didn’t need to turn fully to know Rhaenyra was right behind her too.

“Stop following me,” Alicent said over her shoulder, “please.”

“I'm not following you,” Rhaenyra replied, while following Alicent.

Alicent stopped. Rhaenyra stopped right after. Crunchy stayed still between them.

“Then what are you doing?” Alicent asked, turning to face Rhaenyra.

“I…” Rhaenyra opened and closed her mouth, seemingly at a loss. Alicent got the impression this didn’t happen often. “I’m going where you’re going.”

“And that’s not the same as following?”

“No… it is not.” Rhaenyra answered, though her voice lacked its usual certainty.

Alicent narrowed her eyes, suspicious. In the end, she decided not to argue and resumed walking. She didn’t have time for this.

She passed the others adapted containers until they were a distant sight behind her. She climbed a small hill, still hearing Rhaenyra’s footsteps nearby.

“Quality time is very important,” Rhaenyra made sure her presence was noted. Alicent’s walks were always silent, with Rhaenyra, they no longer were. “I’m really enjoying this walk with you.”

Alicent frowned. “You told me yesterday you don’t have preferences.”

“That’s true. I wasn’t programmed with personal preferences or emotions.”

“Then why did you just say you’re enjoying this?”

Rhaenyra blinked. “Because I calculated that declaring such a thing would increase the likelihood of you appreciating my presence in return.”

“So you’re lying?”

“Not exactly,” Rhaenyra’s expression remained as calm as ever. “I’m learning. I’m adapting to our interactions, drawing conclusions from them. Logically, if I’m spending time with you and don’t dislike it, then I must… like it.”

It made no sense—well, half the things Rhaenyra said made no sense to Alicent. She didn’t know why she expected to understand now.

“Alicent, do you know what happened here?” Rhaenyra asked, glancing at the emptiness around them.

Alicent immediately stopped walking, her mind tripped over the question. “You don’t know?” She didn't make an effort to hide the incredulous in her voice. “You don’t know what happened?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes darted away. “I do not.”

Alicent's throat tightened. “But you were there, right? Before all of this? When the world was still… full?”

“No. I wasn’t awake,” Rhaenyra said, as if that explained it. “I powered on one day, alone, in a ruined facility with no instructions and no one else around. My memory bank had only the basics. The rest of my data was blank.” She went on, calmly. “I was hoping you might know what happened.”

Alicent stiffened. She didn’t know. She never had. And she had stopped trying to figured it out. Things were the way they were. There was no point wasting time trying to understand them.

Still, she hated that Rhaenyra didn’t know either. That the android who talked like she’d seen the world couldn’t explain why there was no one left in it.

“No,” Alicent answered finally, her voice almost got lost in the air. “I thought you would know.”

“I have a few ideas. My nuclear bomb hypothesis was ruled out due to the clean water and air quality. Plus, there is no radiation.” Rhaenyra shared her opinions. “It wasn’t a meteor, either. Some destroyed buildings might suggest civil war or natural decay over time. However, that doesn’t explain why you're the only human here.”

“You’re here too,” Alicent remembered, because Rhaenyra seemed to forget such a fact. “And I haven’t seen any other… Rhaenyra around.”

“I haven’t either,” she admitted after a beat. “I should’ve encountered others by now.”

Alicent looked away. So Rhaenyra was just as lost as she was.

Alicent started walking again, faster this time, as if she could outpace the conversation. When she reached the grave, she stopped. Rhaenyra caught up beside her.

It sat at the edge of a clearing. A crooked wooden cross stood at the center stuck into a pile of carefully arranged stones. She had placed each one there herself, one by one. She had also dug the earth, crying and sobbing.

Crunchy climbed onto the base of the cross. He understood this ritual in his own way.

Alicent stood there in silence, mourning the dead. This was far from her favorite part of the routine, but she did it anyway—every single day. It was her way of saying: I'm still here. I still remember. And I choose to keep living.

“I'm sorry for your loss,” Rhaenyra said eventually, her voice softer than usual. She stood beside Alicent, hands clasped behind her back as always.

The words were kind, they sounded sincere. Alicent appreciated them, though she remained staring at the nameless grave.

“Do you come here every day?” Rhaenyra asked, breaking the silence again.

Alicent nodded.

“They must have been very important to you.”

Alicent said nothing. What was there to say? That yes, they had been important? That even now, the weight of their absence felt like a wound that would never fully close? They had been all she had, and now they were gone.

Alicent remembered, then, that Rhaenyra wasn’t powerless. She couldn't take Alicent far away from this place, but maybe she could still grant her a favor that mattered just as much.

“Can you bring the dead back to life?” Alicent asked, turning to face Rhaenyra. Deep down, she already knew the answer—death was final, irreversible. But she asked anyway. She had to at least try.

Rhaenyra’s lips parted, then pressed together. “No,” she said. “No one can.”

Alicent nodded slowly. She had hoped, for a fleeting moment, that maybe Rhaenyra could offer a way to undo the past.

She crouched down, adjusting one of the stones that had shifted, making sure everything was as it should be.

“Alicent, could you… Could you tell it to get off me?”

Alicent turned around, distracted from her thoughts by the unusual tone in Rhaenyra’s voice. The reason became instantly clear—Crunchy was clinging to her leg.

Rhaenyra’s hands, always neatly folded behind her back, were now half-raised, frozen in uncertainty. Her right foot hovered slightly off the ground, as if she were trying to keep Crunchy as far away as possible.

Alicent couldn’t understand why Rhaenyra was reacting this way to an animal so small and harmless.

“He’s not an it,” Alicent corrected. “He has a name. And he won’t hurt you.”

“Understood,” Rhaenyra said, her fingers twitching like she wanted to flick Crunchy away but didn’t dare touch him. “Please tell him to get down.”

“I don’t control him. He does what he wants.”

Rhaenyra frowned, looking back at Crunchy, who had now settled comfortably on her knee. “Can’t you at least try?”

Alicent sighed before moving. She reached out gently picking up Crunchy. “Come here,” she murmured, lifting him away from Rhaenyra.

“Thank you.” Rhaenyra’s hands immediately returned to their usual position behind her back.

Alicent set Crunchy on the ground and ran her fingertips lightly over his small body, giving him a soft pat.

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra said, watching the interaction, “I believe your prolonged isolation has had a significant impact on your psychological state. Your attachment to… unconventional companions is evidence of that.”

Alicent shot Rhaenyra a sharp look. It wasn’t worth responding to whatever that was supposed to mean.

She gave the grave one last glance before turning to leave. Rhaenyra stayed close behind. Crunchy walked ahead.

“What do you need?” Rhaenyra asked. “I can do many things for you, if you require. Just say the word.”

Rhaenyra could do many things, clearly. But none of them were what Alicent wanted. Then what’s the point?

“What I need you can’t do.” Alicent whispered.

“Try me.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes stayed on Alicent as they walked. She waited for a response, but Alicent wasn’t going to give one. Dealing with Rhaenyra was like talking to a brick wall. Alicent could feel her patience wearing thinner with every step.

“You were holding a hammer when you answered the door yesterday,” Rhaenyra recalled. “Was that for self-defense? Did you assume I was a threat?”

“You showed up out of nowhere,” Alicent shrugged. “I had to be prepared.”

“Understandable. Though statistically, I am far less dangerous than the average human.” Rhaenyra’s tone was neutral. “It’s natural for humans to feel threatened by androids. However, I assure you, I have no intention of stealing your job, although you don’t have one, or trying to kill you.”

Alicent grimaced. Why did Rhaenyra have to be so… weird?

She quickened her pace. Rhaenyra matched it effortlessly.

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?” Rhaenyra pressed.

“I already said no.”

After that, they walked in silence the rest of the way back to Alicent’s container—no, house—Alicent’s house.

“I’ll be inside,” Alicent said as she stopped at the door. “You can go… wherever.”

“Alicent, wait.” Rhaenyra stepped closer. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?”

Rhaenyra straightened up beside her. “Your hair is acceptable today,” she said, deadly serious. “The symmetry is consistent with your usual appearance. And your facial structure is… above average.”

“Above average?” Alicent repeated slowly.

“Yes. Above average is good, it means meeting standards. Exceeding them, even.”

So why couldn’t Rhaenyra just say Alicent looked good? Was that so hard? Unless Rhaenyra didn’t actually think that way and was trying not to hurt her feelings. Maybe ‘above average’ was the closest she could get to the truth.

“You’re highly capable, the way you’ve survived all this time alone is very impressive.” Rhaenyra continued. “You’re also very pleasant to be with, like ambient lighting. Or a well-calibrated interface.”

Alicent's eyes twitched. “What are you doing?”

“Using words of affirmation,” Rhaenyra replied, as if it were obvious. “Do you not feel affirmed?”

Alicent felt something, yes. And it definitely wasn’t affirmation.

“Goodbye, Rhaenyra.”

“Wait, I—”

Alicent stepped inside, shutting the door behind her. Rhaenyra could keep her words of affirmation to herself. Alicent certainly didn’t need them.

Crunchy climbed onto her boot.

“Yeah,” Alicent muttered, “I know.”

She wasted no time heading to the cabinet beside her bed. She never ate before visiting the grave, but today, Rhaenyra had ruined her plans.

Alicent pulled open the drawer. Inside, crammed to the point of overflowing, were dozens of packets wrapped in gray plastic.

She grabbed one and tore open the packaging. The bar inside was beige with little speckles. It smelled like nothing.

Alicent took a bite. It was tasteless and dry as always. Designed to sustain, not to satisfy. She needed to eat one bar a day No more, no less. Never forget.

Next to her foot, Alicent noticed Crunchy looking at her, expecting.

Oh. How rude of her. She'd forgotten his food.

All Rhaenyra's fault, of course. Alicent had been so thrown off by the disruption to her routine that she'd overlooked it.

She turned back to the cabinet, but not to the drawer with the gray plastic bars (Crunchy didn't like those, even he had standards), and grabbed a different kind, one wrapped in brown instead of gray. Chocolate.

Alicent broke off a tiny piece of the dark square and tossed it onto the floor for him.

Crunchy was more than capable of finding food on his own, but that wasn't the point. Every day, they shared a meal together. That was how it was. That was the routine.

And Alicent didn't like when things strayed from it.

She sat on the floor facing Crunchy, her back against the edge of the bed. He was quiet, reliable company. He didn't disrupt her routine, didn't demand anything from her. Why couldn't Rhaenyra be like that too?

If she were more like Crunchy, Alicent wouldn't have any problem letting her into her home. She might even let Rhaenyra sleep in the top bunk—the one that no longer had an owner. As long as she promised not to touch the things Alicent kept beneath her bed.

Your facial structure is above average. Alicent never thought of herself as stunning—especially compared to the women in films—but did Rhaenyra have to say it like that?

“Idiot,” Alicent muttered, tearing off another bite of her bar.

Crunchy paused, his antennae lifting toward her.

“Not you,” she grumbled. “Her.”

Alicent finished the last bite of her protein, she crumpled the package in her palm and put it in the trash can. Crunchy remained occupied with his piece—he'd be at it a while. Slow eater, that one.

She started cleaning the shelves, moving through the rest of her routine. One by one, she dusted them off, running a worn cloth over the surfaces. Alicent liked to keep her place clean as much as she liked to keep herself clean. It was like giving her house a shower.

Once she finished cleaning, she walked to her small collection of records and put one on at random. Then she moved on to the shelf of objects she was still figuring out what they were for.

Her gaze landed on the Rubik's Cube almost immediately.

What had Rhaenyra say about it? That the colors had to align?

She picked it up, turning it in her hands. It didn't seemed that complicated. She could do this.

Alicent sat on the couch and started twisting the cube's layers. There had to be a way to bring order to the mess. She turned one side, watching the colors shift. She got two yellows together in one. Then four. Ha! Easy.

Then she turned another layer and watched all the yellows scatter. Alicent frowned. She twisted back, tried to undo whatever she'd done. It only got worse. The colors bled into one another again—red invading the white side, green next to orange.

Crunchy had finished his meal and now stood at the edge of the couch. Alicent glanced down at him.

“I’m getting it.”

She wasn’t, really. Just when one side started coming together, another seemed to undo her progress.

Alicent didn’t even blink when she felt Crunchy on her shoulder. He made himself at home, crawling onto the top of her head like it was a throne.

Alicent glanced up, though she couldn’t see him. She imagined those beady little eyes full of judgment.

“You think you could do better?” she asked, turning another side. Yellow disappeared entirely. “Be my guest.”

Crunchy didn’t move.

“Yeah. Thought so.”

Twist. Turn. Red matched red, orange with orange. Until she made a careless movement and everything fell apart again.

“Ugh,” she muttered.

Solving the puzzle was harder than she'd expected. She spun the top layer once more when a knock echoed at her door. Three sharp raps that could only belong to one person.

“Alicent? It’s me, Rhaenyra.”

Yes. Who else could it be?

“Open the door, please.”

Alicent stared at the door as if she could will Rhaenyra away. She'd already disrupted her routine more than once today—why was she back?

Crunchy slid off Alicent's head and stopped on the arm of the couch.

“What do you want?” Alicent asked, not moving from her spot.

“I have something for you.”

Alicent turned her attention back to the cube in her hands. “I'm busy.”

“It won't take long.”

Alicent rolled the cube between her fingers, trying to focus on the way it clicked when she twisted it just right.

“I promise you'll like it,” Rhaenyra kept insisting.

Alicent should have just ignored her. Let her talk to the door until she got bored and left. But Rhaenyra was persistent. And Alicent’s curiosity won out over her reluctance.

She crossed the room, opening the door just enough to see Rhaenyra standing there.

“Here,” she said smiling, holding something up to Alicent’s eye level. In Rhaenyra's hands was a rectangular object wrapped in red paper. A green ribbon was tied around it in a simple knot.

“What is this?”

“A gift.”

Alicent’s brown eyes widened. “For me?”

“Yes, for you.”

Alicent stared at the present. No one had ever given her anything before. Gifts weren’t part of her world. Things were found, collected, salvaged—never given. She’d seen people give gifts in movies, bright boxes exchanged under trees or handed over at dinner tables. She always wondered if one day she'd be lucky enough to get one too.

“I’ve never…” Alicent’s voice caught in her throat. “I’ve never gotten a gift before.”

Rhaenyra smile faltered, just a little, her voice came quieter. “There’s a first time for everything.”

Alicent cleared her throat and looked at the package again, suddenly aware of how hot her cheeks were. She reached out slowly, feeling the crumpled paper, which had been found and repurposed. Rhaenyra tied this herself, took her time to do this for Alicent. That thought alone made Alicent’s head swim, her fingers lingered at the knot.

“Well?” Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to open it?”

Alicent swallowed. Carefully—very carefully—she began untying the knot. She didn’t tug or tear the wrapping. She wanted to keep it. Already thinking about which of her shelves she would put it on later.

A rectangular plastic case slid into her hands. Alicent turned it over—

A DVD!

“I thought of you when I saw it,” Rhaenyra said softly.

Alicent felt a funny fluttered in her stomach. It wasn’t fear or hunger. Not at all unpleasant, just warm.

“Thank you,” she murmured. “I haven’t watched this one yet.”

Alicent looked at the DVD again, it was worn at the corners, though the bright colors hadn’t faded. She couldn’t understand what the title said, but the cover was silly. Very silly. There was a cowboy, Alicent recognized, and also—

“You’re welcome. I found an old vintage shop with some DVDs not too far from here. Have you been there?” Rhaenyra didn’t wait for an answer before continuing. “Anyway, I thought you’d like this one in particular, since you have a lot of—Oh! You like Ray Charles?”

Alicent was still staring at the DVD cover when she realized how close Rhaenyra was. She was peering past Alicent at the spinning record player, trying to get a look inside.

“Hm,” Alicent hugged the DVD to her chest on instinct, “yes.”

“I noticed the record player yesterday, but I thought maybe you didn’t know how to use it.”

“I know how to use it,” Alicent didn’t hide her irritation. She wasn’t an idiot, no matter how Rhaenyra made her out to be.

“And you know how to change the records too?”

“Why do you talk like if I’m stupid?”

Rhaenyra froze for a moment. “I don’t think you’re stupid, Alicent. However, I’ve come to the conclusion that your cognitive abilities must be compromised due—”

“I’m not compersmised!”

“Compromised,” Rhaenyra corrected, leaning forward. Her presence filled the small space like sunlight— a little too bright, and impossible to ignore. “You’re very smart, but you’ve been isolated for a long time. That can impact the way someone processes things, or communicates. It’s not—”

“You’re too close,” Alicent interrupted.

“Am I?” Instead of stepping away, Rhaenyra leaned in further. “Do you like when I'm this close?”

Alicent shifted back, putting distance between them, blocking the doorway. Rhaenyra waited for an invitation inside that wasn’t coming.

“Thank you for the gift,” Alicent said, she really meant it. “But you should go.”

“You're not even going to let me in? I thought we could watch it together.”

“No,” she replied, trying not to sound rude.

Alicent knew that watching a movie with Rhaenyra and watching it alone were pretty much the same thing. Rhaenyra would sit on the couch remaining very still until the end. She wouldn't laugh or cry. Much less make a comment about it. And if Alicent asked her what she thought of the film, Rhaenyra would say that she wasn't built to form an opinion.

Rhaenyra frowned, her gaze dropping to Alicent’s legs. That was when Alicent noticed Crunchy between her feet, listening to everything.

“Why does it get to come in and I don’t?”

“Him. It’s him, Rhaenyra.”

“Understood. Why does he get to come in and I don’t?”

“Crunchy is my friend. I’ve told you that.”

“I can be your friend too.”

No, Rhaenyra couldn’t be her friend. She was too much to handle. She talked too much. She never knew when to stop. Touched things without asking. Disrupted routines. Alicent didn't want a friend like that.

“I don’t think so,” Alicent said simply, her fingers tighten around the edges of the DVD. It had been a kind gesture—one she would never forget. But it wasn’t enough to make them friends.

Rhaenyra’s shoulders dropped a fraction. “Did I do something wrong?”

“It’s just... you don’t fit.”

“Fit in what?”

In my life. In my rules. In the way things are supposed to be.

Crunchy crawled onto Alicent's shoulder, as if sensing the tension. Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked to him, her nose wrinkling slightly before she caught herself. Alicent noticed.

“What was that?”

Rhaenyra blinked. “What was what?”

“That face you just made.”

“I didn’t make a face.”

“Yes, you did.” Crunchy twitched his antennae, nestling closer to Alicent’s neck. “You looked at him like... like he was disgusting.”

Rhaenyra hesitated half a second too long. “I wouldn’t say disgusting—”

“But you thought it,” Alicent shot back.

“It’s not personal,” Rhaenyra shrugged. “He’s… a cockroach.”

And Alicent’s only company. The one who greeted her every time she came home, who watched movies with her, who never interrupted, who fit.

“Go away,” Alicent said, coldly.

Rhaenyra opened her mouth to speak, but Alicent—for the second time that day—shut the door before she could.

Alicent thought Rhaenyra might insist a little. She waited for another knock, for her name to be called.

It never came. Rhaenyra seemed to finally understand that Alicent wanted to be left alone.

Alicent’s gaze drifted to the small collection of Rhaenyra photos, there were so many of them. She wondered if the others were different. Were they quieter? Easier? Did they share the same personality or were they entirely different people with the same face?

Alicent had a feeling she’d never know.

What she did know, though, was that out of all those Rhaenyras, she was stuck with this one.

Alicent tightened her grip on the DVD she was still holding. At least this Rhaenyra was thoughtful.

Oh, and a big liar too. Rhaenyra said she didn’t have opinions, but always shared one. Also said she wasn’t programmed to feel emotions, but she was clearly disgusted by Crunchy. And Alicent was almost sure that counted as an emotion.

She crouched in front of the cabinet that held her TV and slid the DVD inside. She placed it at the back, behind the others that weren’t exactly her favorites, but that she still enjoyed. She put it there so she wouldn’t have to see it unless she was looking for it.

Maybe she’d watch it later that night. If she felt like it.

She set the red wrapping paper and green ribbon on the table next to the couch, then returned to the Rubik’s Cube.

—

Alicent didn’t see or heard from Rhaenyra for the rest of the day.

When it was time to go outside to start collecting, Alicent grabbed the keys from the hook by the door and locked both sheds. Not leaving Rhaenyra any chance to snoop through her things again.

While she walked toward the city, her gaze lingered on the house next to hers, where Rhaenyra now lived. She didn’t see anyone, nor did she hear any sounds. The residence seemed empty.

That was really it. Rhaenyra had finally left.

Great. That was good.

Alicent told herself she should feel relieved, but as she walked, she found herself glancing at the house from time to time. Hoping to catch a glimpse of movement. A shadow stepping out of the metal structure. A voice calling her name.

But there was only the usual, familiar silence.

Alicent moved through the common motions of her day — walking the same beaten paths, collecting different kinds of objects. A small wooden box with nothing inside, smooth stones, an empty can, a pair of sunglasses broken on one side, a rusty clock frozen in time.

She rummaged through the debris of a store she already knew, picking up things she hadn’t paid attention to the first time, but caught her eye now. Her hand stopped on a small green plush lying against a fallen shelf.

Alicent reached out to grab it, brushing off a layer of dust. A frog. The frog says croak croak. She liked to think it had been loved once, before it was abandoned. She put it in her bag.

The sky remained gray; today the sun had decided not to show up at all. Still, she could tell by the darker hue that nightfall was approaching. Her boots marched along the ground, inside the bag her keys tapped against a tin can as she made her way home.

That’s when she heard it.

A faint sound reached Alicent’s ears, distant at first, but growing louder as she got closer to home. It was coming from Rhaenyra’s place.

It didn't take long for Alicent realized what the noise was. Rhaenyra was standing in front of her house, hands fiddling with a music box. Alicent felt a sense of relief, which she quickly buried.

As Alicent got closer, she saw long wires connected to the music box, running into the ground until disappearing inside Rhaenyra’s house. Rhaenyra had dragged out two folding chairs and placed it near the door, along with a small table with two very fancy glasses. One was filled with a clear liquid—water, Alicent assumed—and the other, blue. She didn’t have glasses like those, nor that kind of music player. Where had Rhaenyra found them?

“…I seen you ‘round for a long, long time…”

The music player crackled.

“…I remembered you when you drank my wine…”

Alicent took a few more steps forward, her boot scraping against the earth.

“Ah! You came to join my party!” Rhaenyra exclaimed as soon as she saw Alicent.

Alicent’s gaze swept across the area. It was absurd. The whole thing. A party of one. A song too loud. Two glasses and empty chairs.

“Would you like a drink?” Rhaenyra asked, picking up the glasses. “I took the liberty of acquiring a second one for you. I recovered them from an abandoned property a few miles from here. They’re of the highest quality.”

Before Alicent could refuse, Rhaenyra was already placing the glass with water in her hand.

“…I pay my money to the welfare line…”

Then, Rhaenyra clinked their glasses together with a delicate ting. 

“…I see you standing in it every time…”

Alicent watched as Rhaenyra took a sip of the blue liquid, leaving her own glass untouched.

“What are you drinking?” Alicent asked as soon as Rhaenyra lowered her glass.

“Thirium,” she replied casually. “Commonly called Blue Blood.”

“You’re drinking blood?”

“Not blood in the human sense. It’s an essential circulatory fluid, but entirely synthetic. It’s also an energy source and used for self-repair.” Rhaenyra took another sip. “Lucky for me, there were stores with stock left. Otherwise, my bio-components wouldn’t function properly.”

Alicent had seen the blue liquids around the city, but they’d never caught her attention. She thought it was like any other drink.

“…as long as we can live in harmony…”

Alicent looked at Rhaenyra’s glass. The liquid was thicker than water.

“Do you drink that every day?”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “Only when I feel like I’m losing circulatory function or need more energy.” She turned to look at the speaker. “Did you like the song?”

Alicent tapped her fingers against the side of her untouched glass.

“…why can’t we be friends?…”

The words of the song looped in Alicent’s head, annoying her.

“…WHY CAN’T WE BE FRIENDS?…”

She wasn’t a fool, she knew Rhaenyra had chosen that song on purpose.

Rhaenyra stared back at her, expectant. “Well?”

Alicent kept her eyes on her, unblinking. “Why are you like this?”

“I assume you mean my personality, not my structural design?”

Alicent set her glass on the table, ignoring the question.

“…WHY CAN’T WE BE FRIENDS?…”

She should be in her home right now, listening to her own music on her vinyl record while organizing her new finds and not… not encouraging whatever this was.

“…WHY CAN’T WE BE FRIENDS?…”

The music was loud. Loud enough that if she went into her house, she’d still be able to hear the lyrics perfectly.

“…WHY CAN’T WE BE FRIENDS?…”

She walked over to the music player.

“…sometimes I don’t speak right…”

Rhaenyra didn’t move to stop her. She only tilted her head, watching.

“…but yet I know what—”

The music cut off mid-lyric. Alicent knelt and yanked the plug.

Rhaenyra leaned forward, her lilac eyes glowing as her brow furrowed.

“You didn’t like the song? I couldn’t find any Ray Charles CDs during my search, so I had to improvise.” She placed her own glass on the table, right next to Alicent’s. “If you want, we can bring your vinyl out here. It’s not a real party without music.”

“This isn’t a party, Rhaenyra. You’re the only one here.”

“Incorrect. You’re here.”

“…That doesn’t count,” Alicent muttered. “I didn’t come here to join your party. I was just walking home when you stopped me.”

“Oh.” Rhaenyra’s voice didn’t crack but her shoulders lowered a bit. Her gaze dropped to Alicent’s arm. “Your bag looks heavy. Let me carry it for you.”

Alicent tightened her grip on the strap. “I can carry it myself, thanks.”

“But I want to contribute to your efficiency,” Rhaenyra insisted, reaching out.

“I don’t want efficiency. I don’t want your help carrying things. I want—”

Alicent stopped herself.

Rhaenyra lowered her hand and waited. The silence stretched.

They stared at each other—lilac eyes meeting brown. That was when Alicent realized they would never truly understand one another. There was a quiet, invisible line between them, made of painful mismatch. Everything Rhaenyra was willing to give was what Alicent didn’t want to receive. And everything Alicent wanted to receive was what Rhaenyra couldn’t give.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alicent adjusted the strap on her shoulder. “Enjoy your party.”

Alicent walked past Rhaenyra, their shoulders brushing just enough not to go unnoticed. For one impossible second, she thought she felt Rhaenyra’s fingers touching the back of her coat, but when she turned around, Rhaenyra had her hands hidden behind her back.

“I want to understand you,” Rhaenyra said the moment Alicent turned. The words rushed out of her mouth like someone might silence her at any second. “But you keep walking away before I can.”

Rhaenyra’s voice hung in the air. It was one of those rare moments when she didn’t sound so sure of everything.

Alicent stayed silent, words failed her. She didn’t leave either; her feet felt glued to the ground. The truth was, when it came to Rhaenyra, she simply didn’t know what to do.

Rhaenyra wouldn’t go away, that much was clear. And even though she refused to go, she didn’t fit anywhere in Alicent’s life.

If Rhaenyra were one of her things she found in the ruins, where would she put her? Alicent really put a thought on it.

She was too big to fit on one of the shelves. Her body wouldn’t fit under the bed either. The drawers were completely out of the question. She wasn’t small, light, or easy to put away. Even in that, Rhaenyra was difficult.

There was only one place she hadn’t considered, the shed.

The shed where she put things she didn’t need right now, but would eventually. Not trash. Not part of the house either. The in-between. The not-yets.

That was where Rhaenyra belonged. Out of sight. Out of reach. Not gone. Never fully gone.

It was the only place to put Rhaenyra in.

“I have something you can help me with,” Alicent finally said, hoping her voice sounded normal.

Rhaenyra perked up for a brief moment. “Oh?”

“It’s in the shed,” Alicent turned. “Follow me.”

She didn’t give Rhaenyra much time to think and started walking. She had to do it before she lost her nerve. Rhaenyra followed without question. If she suspected anything, she didn’t show it.

Alicent unlocked the door, the hinges creaked. Rhaenyra immediately stepped inside, looking around. It was easier than Alicent had imagined.

“So, what do you need help with?” Rhaenyra asked, turning to Alicent.

Alicent opened her bag and pulled out the stuffed frog she had found earlier, abandoned and forgotten. Without saying a word, she extended it toward Rhaenyra.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“It’s to keep you company.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers curled around the plush. For a moment, she was silent, staring at it.

“I don’t want you to feel lonely,” Alicent added.

“Why would I be—”

Alicent slammed the door shut, locking it right after. She pressed her forehead against the rough wood. Her hands were trembling.

A second later, the doorknob rattled. Testing it.

“Alicent,” her name came muffled through the door. Not angry, or panicked. “Are you trying to play hide and seek? Because that’s not how it works. You’re supposed to give me a chance to hide first.”

“I’m not playing anything,” Alicent swallowed hard. “I put you in there.”

She could imagine Rhaenyra tilting her head, frowning in confusion on the other side of the door.

“There are protein packs in the cabinets,” Alicent said. “You can eat as much as you want.”

“I don’t eat.”

Alicent shifted her weight, her fingers tightly wrapped around the strap of her bag.

“You’re storing me,” Rhaenyra said after a moment. She still didn’t sound angry. “Like the things you collect.”

“I’m not—” Alicent hesitated. “I just don’t know what to do with you.”

There was a sound on the other side of the door, as if Rhaenyra were moving. “How long will I be in here?”

“I don’t know,” Alicent bit her lip, thinking. “I’ll check on you in the morning. Every day.”

She waited for the doorknob to rattle once more, for Rhaenyra to pound on the door. To yell at her. Try to convince her otherwise. Instead, what she got was:

“Okay,” came the reply, almost a whisper. “I’ll be here.”

Alicent took a step back. That was it?

“You’re not...” She sighed. “Upset?”

“Would you prefer if I were?”

“I—” Alicent’s fingers curled. “No.”

“Well, then.” There was the sound of shuffling feet again. Fabric shifting. Maybe Rhaenyra had sat down. “Good night, Alicent.”

Alicent didn't reply. She turned and walked away, forcing herself not to look back. When she got to her house, she could already see the familiar shape waiting for her on the floor.

Crunchy wiggled his antennae when she walked in.

“You don’t want to know,” she murmured, as if the little thing had asked for an explanation for why she was late.

She organized her new finds on the shelf, didn’t even bother to put on music. She wasn’t in the mood for it.

After that, she went toward her DVD collection. Tonight, she didn’t choose any of the films laid out on the table beside the couch. She didn’t feel worthy of watching any of her favorites.

Alicent ignored the film Rhaenyra had given her as if it were cursed. She picked up the first one her fingers touched, not even bothering looking at the cover. She put the movie on and sat down on the couch. Crunchy scuttled up onto the armrest beside her.

This time, no noise came from outside to interrupt her. There was only the sound of the movie, the comfort of knowing exactly what would happen next.

Fanny Brice appeared on the screen, smiling. Alicent didn’t like this movie the first time she watched it, she even turned it down before the end. She found everything far too exaggerated—the songs, the dances, Fanny’s personality. The romance seemed absurd, too. Alicent preferred the quiet charm of Princess Ann.

Days later, she tried again, watching until the credits rolled. Fanny’s boldness, which had once irritated her, began to feel… kinda nice. She smiled through rejection, didn’t hesitate in the face of doubt, refused to shrink herself, went after what she wanted without apologizing. Alicent wished she could be more like that.

Even after spending much time alone, Alicent still felt constantly watched. Judged. By whom, she wasn’t sure. Maybe by herself.

Fanny sang on the screen like nothing in the world had ever hurt her. “People who need people are the luckiest people in the world!”

Luckiest. What a joke.

People who need people aren’t lucky. They’re annoying. Needy. They make you feel guilty just for wanting to be left alone. The real lucky ones were the ones who didn’t need anyone. It didn’t make sense for it to be otherwise.

Her fingers reached for the remote. The screen went black mid-note, Fanny’s voice cut short. Alicent didn't make it to the end, just like the first time.

She ended up walking to her bed. The day had started off wrong and only spiraled from there. She told herself that tomorrow would be better.

Alicent slipped beneath the blanket, pulling it up to her chin. She slept alone. Crunchy didn’t join her in bed, he preferred curling up in the tight spaces beneath the furniture, where his little body could press between walls and shadows. Alicent pretended that his absence in bed didn’t bother her.

She thought of Rhaenyra. Of her lying in the shed, curling her knees up, trying to get comfortable while hugging the stuffed frog against her chest. Silver strands of hair falling across her face as she slept. Pale arms, lashes twitching in sleep, chest rising and falling.

Alicent had put her there. Locked her in. It was for the best.

That thought repeated itself.

Because if Rhaenyra weren’t in the shed, she’d be knocking on her door, blasting music into the night, asking questions Alicent didn’t want to answer. Stirring things up. Disturbing her silence.

It was for the best.

Putting her in the shed wasn’t cruel, it was like sorting through her collection, deciding what stayed on display and what went into storage.

It was for the best.

Alicent’s mind refused to settle. It spun and spun, always landing back on Rhaenyra. Was she cold? Was she afraid? Was she holding the frog?

Alicent should’ve left a blanket. She should’ve checked the temperature. She should’ve asked if Rhaenyra got scared of the dark.

It was for the best.

Alicent turned onto her side.

It took her a while to fall asleep, but she did eventually. She dreamed of a crown on her head. Then of frogs. White walls. Mermaids. Salivating dogs. Homer Simpson. Lilac. Misaligned colors. Blue.

Rhaenyra was sitting in the middle of the room in a chair far too big for her, her small feet swinging above the floor. She wore a crown on her head, not the shiny kind from the books, but a metal one full of wires.

She wondered if, when she turned seven, she would be tall enough to touch the floor. Maybe even before that, if she kept eating salad and stood really straight all the time.

“We’re almost done, Rhaenyra,” Corlys said, sitting across from her. “Just a few more and then you can go play, okay?”

Rhaenyra nodded. “Will I get a lollipop after too?”

“Yes.”

Rhaenyra beamed. The crown on her head made her scalp itch, but she didn’t complain. Her father had told her this was important. So she sat up straighter.

Corlys shuffled through the stack of photographs on the table. He picked one and turned it around, showing it to Rhaenyra.

“What do you feel when you see this image?”

Rhaenyra leaned forward a little. The image had balloons, chocolate cake, and girl she didn’t know blowing out candles, with people all around her.

“It’s a birthday party.”

“Yes,” Corlys agreed. “But what do you feel when you look at the image?”

“Hmm,” Rhaenyra stared at the cake. “Hungry!”

Corlys hummed, setting the photo aside. He picked up another one. “What about this one?”

It was a picture of a tiny brown puppy, ears too big for its head.

Rhaenyra grinned, kicking her legs beneath the chair. “That one looks like Alicent!” she chirped, pointing.

“Oh?” Corlys raised an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth move like he was trying not to smile. “How so?”

“The eyes, they look like hers. Big. And she has hair like that.” She pointed a finger toward the floppy ears. “Don’t tell Alicent I said that. She’ll get mad.”

“Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me,” Corlys chuckled. “Is Alicent often mad?”

“Only when someone cuts in line or touches her stuff without asking. Or when Laenor colors on her drawings. One time he made her unicorn pink.” Rhaenyra giggled.

“Does she ever get mad at you?”

Rhaenyra stopped swinging her legs. “Sometimes.”

“What happens when she gets mad at you?”

“She looks at me,” she said after a pause, “like she’s thinking really hard. But then she sighs like this—” Rhaenyra demonstrated a dramatic sigh that lifted her whole tiny body, “—and says, ‘Rhaenyra…’. Then she scoots closer anyway.”

Corlys smiled, but only for a moment. “Let's focus on the picture again,” he said gently. “Tell me how it makes you feel.”

“Makes me happy,” Rhaenyra didn’t hesitate to answer.

“Why?”

“Because reminds me of Alicent, and Alicent makes me happy.”

Corlys nodded. “If the puppy could talk, what would it say?”

Rhaenyra scrunched her nose in thought. “She’d say…” She paused, then leaned forward to have a better look. “‘Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere.’”

Rhaenyra noticed when Corlys glanced discreetly at the black glass beside them. She waited for him to say something, but he put the photo away and picked up another.

Rhaenyra’s smile faltered the moment the next image was turned toward her. It was a photo of cockroaches crawling across a dirty plate.

“Ew!”

Corlys watched her. “You didn’t like this one very much, did you?”

“No.” She scrunched her shoulders up high, wishing she could hide in them. “They’re gross.”

“What would the cockroaches say if they could talk?”

“They’d say… nothing. Just hiss, like snakes.”

Corlys quietly slid the image of the cockroaches to the side, replacing it with another.

“That’s Bambi!” Rhaenyra reached toward the image with her fingertips. “It’s Alicent’s favorite movie, she makes me watch it with her. Even though she cries at the same part every time.”

“Which part?”

Rhaenyra glanced up. “When the mama deer dies.”

Corlys gave a small nod. “How does this picture make you feel?”

“It makes me feel…” She searched for the right words. “Close to Alicent. When she cries, she holds my hand.”

“And what do you think Bambi would say, if he could talk to you right now?”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, considering. “He’d ask if I knew where his mom went.”

Corlys nodded and took the photo. “I’ll show you the last one now, and remember, I want you to tell me how the image makes you feel, not describe what’s in it.”

Corlys slid the final picture, turning it toward her. It showed a scarecrow in one corner and a tree holding a rope swing in the other. In the middle, a little away from the rest, was a large shed.

“Hmm,” Rhaenyra wrinkled her nose, this photo was harder.

Corlys waited for her to respond. When it felt like a minute had passed, he stepped in.

“Does this photo bother you?”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “No.”

“Alright, then.” Corlys fold his hands in his lap. “If you had to stay alone in that shed for a day, would you?”

Rhaenyra shook her head again.

“Why not?”

“I would be scared,” she whispered.

“Of what? The scarecrow?”

“Of being alone.”

“Being alone can be scary,” Corlys said. “Could you describe better what being alone means to you?”

Rhaenyra looked at the image again. Large fields. The sky was cloudy.

Rhaenyra’s eyes looked away from the photo. She turned her face at the big mirror on the wall next to her. The crown on her head suddenly felt too heavy.

“Is someone watching?” she asked.

Corlys followed her gaze but didn’t turn fully. “No.”

Rhaenyra kept staring, eyes narrowing.

“Nobody's watching, Rhaenyra.”

She turned her face to him. “Do you pinky promise?”

Corlys extended his hand, his pinky curled. Rhaenyra linked her much smaller finger with his.

“I pinky promise,” he said, “nobody’s watching.”

Rhaenyra looked at their hands. “If you break it, your finger falls off.”

Corlys let out a soft chuckle then pointed at the picture. “Focus here, Rhaenyra. What does being alone means to you?”

“It means being abandoned,” she said. “It means no one comes back. They leave, and they don’t say why. They just go.”

She hated that part the most—when people didn’t say goodbye.

“Has that happened to you before?” he asked.

Rhaenyra’s hands curled around the edges of her seat. “No,” she said, shaking her head.

“You don’t have to lie, Rhaenyra.”

“I’m not lying,” her eyes darted toward the mirror again but didn’t linger. “I’m not. I don’t give people reason to leave me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I try really hard,” she said. “I do everything right. I share my snacks even when I don’t want to. I say sorry first. And I always let Alicent pick the movie we’re going to watch.” Her voice sped up, she didn't like talking about it. “I don’t want anyone to think I’m difficult.”

“You’re not difficult, Rhaenyra. You’re six. You’re allowed to be mad, or sad. You don’t have to be easy all the time.”

“But If I’m easy, they stay.”

Corlys watched her for a while before speaking. “You know, some people leave not because you did anything wrong, but because of themselves. There are people who don’t know how to stay.”

Rhaenyra's eyebrows furrowed. “Why wouldn’t someone want to stay if you’re nice to them?”

“Staying can be scary too,” Corlys replied.

“Scarier than being alone?”

“For some people, yes.”

Rhaenyra looked down at the table, thinking about what he said. They were having a grown-up talk.

Corlys placed the photos into a neat pile and slid them into a folder. “Now,” he said. “You’ve worked really hard today. I think you’ve earned this.”

Corlys reached into the drawer beside him and pulled out a lollipop. Red, shiny, heart-shaped. He handed it to her as he got up.

Rhaenyra remained seated. “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Corlys replied. He knelt beside her chair. “Let’s get that off your head, yeah?”

Rhaenyra didn’t move as he loosened the strap at the base of her neck, then the clips near her temples. The heart-shaped lollipop rested in her hand, unopened.

Corlys gathered the wires carefully and placed the crown on the table.

“There we go,” he said softly. “All done.”

“Can I go now?”

“You can,” he said, rising to his feet. “Alicent’s waiting in the playroom.” Corlys offered his hand, palm open. “Walk you back?”

Before Rhaenyra reached for his hand and wrapped her fingers around his, she tucked the lollipop into the small pocket of her pants, pressing it down until only the stick peeked out.

She’d give it to Alicent later.

That way, Alicent would have another reason to always like her.

Another reason to always stay.

She would never leave Rhaenyra alone. Never abandon her. Never.

Even if she was scared to stay.

—

Subject: 01-RT.
Age: 6
Session Date: [Redacted]
Examiner: Dr. Corlys Velaryon
Test Administered: Projective Image Response Test (Modified TAT – Thematic Apperception Test)
Location: Interaction Room 4B
Surveillance Active: Yes
Note: Subject unaware of the two observers present behind mirrored partition. Consent provided by guardian.

Objective:

To observe and analyze emotional responses triggered by various visual stimuli in order to assess subconscious thoughts, emotions, traumas, and affective patterns.

Preliminary Notes and Recommendations:

Subject 01-RT continues to display remarkable cognitive processing for her developmental stage. Also demonstrates pattern recognition and memory linkage well beyond normative expectations for age 6.

However, this intelligence is deeply intertwined with emotional dependency. The subject exhibits signs of an attachment vulnerability. Subject does not appear to understand the full weight of this dependency, but her fear of abandonment is implicit in her language.

Throughout the 45-minute session, Subject 01-RT mentioned Subject 04-AH a total of 38 times, often unprompted and in varying emotional registers. The frequency and intensity of these references exceed what is developmentally typical and may indicate obsessive or dependent attachment patterns. Continued observation is strongly advised.

Recommend follow-up sessions using interactive storytelling tools and auditory memory prompts. Consider introducing selective visual cues related to Subject 04-AH in next session to track shifts in neural activity.

Full session transcript, audio logs, biometric readings, and neural mapping results are archived in Subject 01-RT’s case file and are accessible to authorized personnel.

— Dr. C. Velaryon

Addendum Report
Date: [Redacted]

Following review of Dr. Velaryon’s session report and neural mapping data, it is my recommendation that Subjects 01-RT and 04-AH be kept apart. Contact of any kind (visual, verbal, or incidental) should be suspended. Any current assignments or routines that position the subjects within communicative range must be reviewed and restructured. Emotional imprinting of this nature, particularly in an experimental context, cannot be allowed to deepen.

— Dr. O. Hightower

Re: Addendum Report
Date: [Redacted]

With full respect to Dr. Hightower’s concerns, I must formally disagree with the forced separation of Subjects 01-RT and 04-AH. While I acknowledge the intensity of the emotion observed, current data does not support the conclusion that proximity is inherently detrimental. On the contrary, the neural mapping shows stabilization during references to 04-AH, including reduction in stress markers and improved language coherence. The data supports further observation, not immediate division.

If monitored appropriately, this bond can be studied, guided, and ultimately leveraged to better understand long-term memory retention, attachment resilience, and behavioral calibration under controlled conditions.

Recommendation: monitored interaction in a controlled setting. Limitations on unsupervised proximity may be warranted, but complete isolation risks destabilization of both subjects. 

— Dr. C. Velaryon

Re: Re: Addendum Report
Date: [Redacted]

So, to clarify: we are now advocating emotional co-dependency as a viable research method? We are to permit Subject 04-AH to, in her words, “lock Rhaenyra in a shed so no one else can have her”, and call it stabilization? The quote in question was not an inference, not a misreading, but a direct statement extracted from Subject 04-AH’s projective response to Image #25.

These are not adolescents processing the chaos of puberty. They are six years old. The bond Dr. Velaryon champions is not stable. It is volatile, obsessive, and deeply asymmetrical.

My recommendation stands: separation must occur. Immediately.

I trust we won’t have to escalate this further.

— Dr. O. Hightower