My Best Friend's Sister

Rhaenyra - 19 Years Old & Alicent - 29 Years Old

Rhaenyra shifted her backpack higher on her shoulder as they stepped into the warm, citrus-scented air of Alicent’s apartment. The place looked the same as always—immaculate, quiet, too adult—but the moment she crossed the threshold, something in her chest tightened.

It had been months. Months of pretending everything was fine. That nothing had happened between them last summer. That the kiss hadn’t happened. That it hadn’t mattered.

But it had. To her, it had.

She swallowed hard and followed Dany further inside, the click of their sneakers loud on the hardwood. Alicent wasn’t in the room yet. That was fine. Rhaenyra wasn’t sure she was ready to see her anyway. Not after the ski trip. Not after how weird it had all felt.

She hadn’t seen Alicent in any real way that week at the ski house after she slept with Mysaria—not beyond the occasional passing glance in the hallway or a quiet, distracted greeting. Alicent had said she was buried in work, and Rhaenyra had taken the excuse at face value, burying herself in her research too. But the avoidance had stung.

Now it was spring break. Her nineteenth birthday had come and gone with tequila shots in some grimy neon bar in San Diego. Dany had insisted they stop in the party town on their way up the coast. They danced on tables, took blurry photos, and Rhaenyra had even kissed a stranger she couldn’t remember the name of. None of it had made her feel better. It hadn’t dulled the sense that something had shifted between her and Alicent.

Now, back in LA, staying under her roof again, Rhaenyra felt the nerves crawl up the back of her neck like a heat rash.

“You good?” Dany asked, glancing at her from where she kicked off her shoes in the foyer. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

Rhaenyra shook her head, forcing a crooked smile. “I’m fine.”

“You’re thinking too much,” Dany said, already dropping her bag by the couch like she owned the place. “Stop doing that. It’s just Ali. You’ve been staying here since you were fifteen.”

Yeah, Rhaenyra thought. But back then, I didn’t know what it felt like to want her.

Before she could respond, the sound of heels clicking against tile echoed from the hallway. Rhaenyra’s stomach lurched. She turned toward it just in time to see Alicent walk into the living room, still in her work clothes—black slacks, a silk blouse, her hair pinned back in that sleek, effortless way that made her look like she belonged in a courtroom even in her own home.

Rhaenyra felt the floor shift under her.

Alicent’s eyes flicked over them, her smile polite and distant. “Hey,” she said, setting down her phone on the kitchen counter. “You made it.”

“Yeah,” Dany said brightly, bounding over to give her a hug. “The traffic was brutal, but we survived.”

Alicent hugged her sister easily. Then her eyes landed on Rhaenyra.

It was just a second. Maybe not even that long. But Rhaenyra felt it like a rush of cold water. A pause. A flicker of something she couldn’t name.

“Hey,” Alicent said again, this time softer, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

“Hey,” Rhaenyra echoed, shifting awkwardly on her feet. Her voice came out a little hoarse, and she hated that she sounded nervous.

Dany didn’t seem to notice the weirdness—or if she did, she ignored it. “We’re starving,” she said, tossing her hair into a bun. “What’s for dinner?”

“I ordered sushi,” Alicent said, already turning back toward the kitchen. “It should be here any minute.”

Rhaenyra followed the sisters toward the couch, feeling the weight of everything unsaid pressing into her chest.

///

The sushi was good—really good—but Rhaenyra could barely taste it.

She sat stiffly at Alicent’s dining table, cross-legged on a cushion with a ceramic plate in front of her, half-picked over. Across from her, Alicent sipped from a glass of wine like nothing was wrong. Her eyes were bright, her blouse softly creased from the long workday she’d just come home from. She looked… flawless. Effortless. And it made Rhaenyra feel like a pile of discarded clothes in comparison.

Dany was next to her, plucking another tuna roll off the shared platter and stuffing it into her mouth without a care in the world. She didn’t seem to notice the way Rhaenyra kept glancing at Alicent. Or maybe she did, and she was just mercifully pretending.

“So,” Alicent said, cutting through the tension like she didn’t feel it. “I got you something.”

Rhaenyra blinked, surprised. “What?”

Alicent stood, walked to the sideboard, and returned with a slim, neatly wrapped parcel. She handed it to her casually, like it wasn’t already making Rhaenyra’s hands sweat.

“Belated,” she said. “Happy birthday.”

Rhaenyra peeled the paper carefully. Inside was a book—leather-bound, heavy in her hands—and she recognized it immediately. It was the one she used to re-read every time they were at the ski house, curled up in the corner of Otto’s library while everyone else drank by the fire.

She opened the front cover, and her heart jumped. There, in Alicent’s neat, slanted handwriting, was a small inscription:

For the one who always reads the margins. Don’t stop writing your own story.
—A.

Rhaenyra didn’t speak for a moment. Her fingers brushed the edge of the page. It was too much. It was perfect. It was—

“Damn,” Dany muttered around a bite of eel roll, not even looking up. “That’s nicer than anything you’ve ever given me.”

Rhaenyra laughed once, softly, trying to play it off, trying not to feel the heat rising in her chest. Alicent smiled, but her gaze flicked away quickly, like she was afraid to hold Rhaenyra’s eyes too long.

“Thanks,” Rhaenyra murmured, her voice catching a little. “Seriously. It means a lot.”

And it did. It meant too much.

Dany reached for the soy sauce with a quiet sigh and said nothing. Rhaenyra pretended not to see the way her best friend was watching her. Or the way Alicent’s fingers lingered on her wineglass a little longer than necessary.

No one said what they were thinking. But the air was thick with it.

///

Dany was already half-asleep when the credits started rolling. She mumbled something incoherent as Rhaenyra reached for the remote, but when Alicent leaned down to nudge her awake, Dany groaned and flailed an arm in protest.

“Don’t,” she mumbled. “Couch’s fine.”

Alicent rolled her eyes but grabbed the folded blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it over her anyway. She smoothed it down with a kind of absent affection before glancing back at Rhaenyra.

“Come on,” she said softly. “I’ll show you the guest room.”

Rhaenyra followed her down the hallway, still clutching the book from dinner like a lifeline. Her bare feet padded across the cool floor, her pulse annoyingly loud in her ears. Alicent walked ahead in a loose tee and sleep shorts, her hair twisted up at the crown of her head, the curve of her calves catching the light as she moved.

The guest room was small but warm. Alicent flicked on the bedside lamp, bathing the room in a soft gold glow.

“There’s an extra charger in the drawer,” she said. “And an extra towel in the closet if you need one.”

“Thanks,” Rhaenyra said, hovering awkwardly in the doorway, her thumb grazing the edge of the book. “For this too. Seriously.”

Alicent gave a small smile and sat on the edge of the bed, facing her. “I knew you always ended up reading it at the ski house. Figured it belonged with you.”

Rhaenyra sat down next to her, careful to keep some space between them, but not too much. “Otto’s going to accuse me of stealing it.”

Alicent laughed. “He’ll survive.”

They sat in silence for a beat. Rhaenyra let herself glance at her—the soft curve of Alicent’s profile, the quiet tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers fidgeted lightly in her lap like she didn’t quite know what to do with them.

“Dany said you’ve been working like crazy,” Rhaenyra offered, trying to fill the space between them with something neutral.

Alicent nodded, eyes still fixed ahead. “Yeah. The firm’s expanding, and I’ve been trying to prove I’m ready for more.”

Rhaenyra smiled faintly. “You don’t need to prove anything.”

Alicent finally looked at her. Really looked at her. The eye contact made Rhaenyra’s chest tighten in that way it always did around her. Alicent’s expression was soft but careful, restrained.

“You always say that,” Alicent murmured. “But I do.”

Another pause. Another electric silence.

Alicent stood abruptly, brushing invisible dust off her sleep shorts. “Anyway. You should get some rest.”

Rhaenyra stood too, slower. “Right.”

Alicent moved toward the door, hand on the knob, but paused there—just for a second. Then she looked back over her shoulder, and her eyes flicked to Rhaenyra’s face, her mouth, then away again like she hadn’t meant to do it at all.

“I’m glad you’re here,” she said, quiet.

Rhaenyra nodded. Her voice caught in her throat, but she forced it out. “Me too.”

Alicent hesitated again, and for the briefest moment, it felt like something might tip—like the air was leaning too far toward something they couldn’t pull back from.

But then she smiled, too sweet, too measured, and slipped out the door.

The guest room suddenly felt colder without her.

///

The kitchen lights were low, the sun not yet risen, casting everything in a blue, quiet stillness. Rhaenyra rubbed at her eyes as she padded barefoot across the tile, the hem of her sleep shirt skimming her thighs. She wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake—not at five in the goddamn morning—but the second she stepped into the kitchen, she froze.

Alicent stood by the counter, tying her hair into a high ponytail. Her sports bra was black and sleek, hugging her tightly, and her running shorts—if they could even be called that—were so short they barely covered anything at all. Her skin was flushed faintly from warmth or movement, her long legs toned and glistening slightly with lotion or sweat. Rhaenyra felt her entire body tense, her brain short-circuiting.

“Oh—hey,” Alicent said casually, glancing over her shoulder with a half-smile. “Didn’t think you’d be up. It’s early.”

Rhaenyra cleared her throat. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Alicent turned, lifting her water bottle and taking a long sip, completely unfazed by her near-naked state. “I’m about to head out for a run.”

Rhaenyra stared for a beat too long before managing, “Can I come with you?”

Alicent blinked. “You… want to come running with me?”

Rhaenyra shrugged like it was no big deal, though her pulse was hammering. “Sure. Why not?”

Alicent smiled, amused and a little surprised. “Okay, yeah—sure. But you’ve got like, three minutes to get dressed. I need to get my miles in before I log in for work.”

“I’m fast,” Rhaenyra said, already backing out of the kitchen.

“I know,” Alicent called after her, almost under her breath.

Two minutes later, Rhaenyra came back downstairs, pulling on a hoodie over her sports bra, her basketball shorts hanging low on her hips. Her hair was up, face still a little sleep-warm, but she looked… good. Athletic. Fresh-faced. Ridiculously attractive.

Alicent took one look at her and nearly dropped her keys.

“Ready?” Rhaenyra asked, casually stretching one arm over her head.

Alicent blinked, forcing herself to nod. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

She turned quickly and led the way out the door, jaw tight and mind whirling, every instinct screaming at her to stay calm and casual. But her thoughts were a mess—because Rhaenyra looked too grown, too composed, too everything she didn’t want to feel about her right now.

And now she had to run five miles beside her without giving it all away.

///

The city was still half-asleep around them—quiet streets, soft birdsong, the rhythmic slap of their sneakers against the pavement filling the space between them. Alicent kept her pace steady, eyes forward, breathing deep and even. She was a few feet ahead of Rhaenyra, mostly because she needed to be. She couldn’t look at her. Not really.

They were at mile three when Rhaenyra’s voice, a little breathless but smooth, cut through the silence. “Is it okay if I take this off? I’m overheating.”

Alicent glanced back just in time to see her pulling the hoodie over her head, revealing the navy sports bra underneath—simple, snug, damp with sweat. Her skin was flushed, her abs flexing as she tossed the hoodie over her shoulder and chugged from her water bottle like it was nothing. Her neck was glistening, damp strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, and her collarbones—

Alicent looked away so fast she nearly tripped on the sidewalk.

“Yeah, no, that’s fine,” she said, forcing the words out as casually as she could manage. “Makes sense. It’s hot.”

Hot. Jesus Christ.

She focused hard on the pavement ahead of her, on the ache building in her legs, the tightness in her lungs. It wasn’t the run—it was her. Rhaenyra. She could feel her next to her now, keeping pace easily, her breathing controlled, her presence entirely too distracting. The scent of her—sweat and clean skin and something warm and unmistakably alpha—was clinging to the air between them like a trap.

Alicent swallowed, trying to clear her throat and her thoughts. This was fine. She could handle this. She was a grown woman. A professional. She was not going to short-circuit because a nineteen-year-old had nice arms and a stupidly hot sweat-slicked jawline.

Except she was. She absolutely was.

“Need a break?” Rhaenyra asked, barely winded.

Alicent shook her head too fast. “Nope. I’m good.”

She was not good.

She was dying.

///

They slowed to a walk, turning down the block toward Alicent’s place, and Rhaenyra tried—tried—not to stare. But the second Alicent tugged her hair tie free and shook her head out, sweat-slick curls tumbling down over her neck, Rhaenyra nearly choked on her own tongue.

The sports bra clung to her in all the worst (best) ways, damp and tight and outlining every curve, and the shorts—God, those shorts. Barely there, riding up with each step, hugging the backs of her thighs and showing just a sliver too much of the swell beneath. Alicent was flushed, glistening, a little out of breath, and still talking casually like she didn’t look like a walking sin.

Rhaenyra could barely breathe. Her heart was pounding harder than it had during the run. She nodded along dumbly as Alicent rambled about her meeting later, eyes fixed on a point somewhere above her head so she wouldn’t accidentally trace the line of sweat sliding down her collarbone.

“—so I’ll probably need to shower and head into the office after we eat,” Alicent was saying, stretching her arms up in a way that should’ve been illegal.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked down, then back up in a panic. “Totally. Yeah. Makes sense.”

She was way too hot. Not just from the run. Her shorts were suddenly a terrible idea. She could already feel the problem starting—tight, pulsing, unmistakable.

“I’m just gonna—bathroom,” she blurted, cutting Alicent off mid-sentence.

Alicent blinked at her, surprised. “Oh. Yeah, sure.”

Rhaenyra jogged inside ahead of her, taking the stairs two at a time and practically slamming the guest bathroom door shut.

She braced her hands on the sink, heart racing. Cool porcelain, she told herself. Think about anything else. Anything. Not the shorts. Not the sports bra. Not the way Alicent’s mouth looked all pink and flushed and slightly parted when she was catching her breath. Not the way she smelled.

Rhaenyra let out a strangled noise and turned on the sink full blast. She needed a minute. Maybe ten. Maybe forever.

///

The sun cut through the haze of LA traffic as Rhaenyra and Dany stepped into the glossy, high-ceilinged lobby of Alicent’s law firm. It was one of those buildings that smelled like espresso and ambition, where everyone looked too good and too busy. Rhaenyra straightened her posture out of instinct, adjusting the strap of her top as they approached the front desk.

Alicent met them near the elevators, already dressed in a tailored navy blouse and sleek slacks that made her look like she owned the building. Her hair was pinned up, a few strands falling loose in a way that somehow made her look even more perfect. “You’re late,” she said, but she was smiling when she said it.

Dany rolled her eyes. “Blame Rhaenyra. She couldn’t pick a top.”

Rhaenyra scoffed but didn’t deny it. Alicent gave her a once-over that was quick but sharp, lingering maybe a beat too long before turning toward the elevators. “Come on. We’ve got a reservation in thirty. Harwin’s joining us—he’s one of the junior associates.”

“Is that like lawyer freshman?” Dany asked, pressing the elevator button.

Alicent sighed, amused. “Something like that. He’s just out of law school. One of the youngest we’ve ever hired.”

They made it to the restaurant—one of those upscale places with floor-to-ceiling windows and minimalist decor—where Harwin was already waiting at a corner table. He stood as they arrived, all easy charm and warm eyes, clearly an alpha, clearly someone who worked hard to seem effortless.

“Harwin,” he said, offering a firm handshake to both girls. “You must be the sister and the friend I’ve heard about.”

“Dany,” Dany said, sliding into her seat. “And this is Rhaenyra.”

“Rhaenyra,” Harwin repeated, the corners of his mouth lifting. “Nice to meet you.”

His eyes didn’t leave her for a little too long. Rhaenyra felt it immediately—like a spotlight she hadn’t asked for. She smiled politely, keeping her expression even, but internally clocked it. He was definitely interested.

Throughout lunch, he found every excuse to loop her into the conversation. Asking about Princeton, teasing lightly about the weather adjustment, asking if she’d ever considered law herself. Every so often, Rhaenyra caught Alicent’s eyes flicking between them—never for long, but just enough to register it. Her expression stayed neutral. Pleasant. But Rhaenyra had spent enough time watching her to know when Alicent was pretending not to care.

“She’s pre-med,” Dany said proudly, nudging Rhaenyra with her elbow as she sipped her lemonade. “So she’ll be saving your life, not arguing over it.”

“Impressive,” Harwin said, his attention still squarely on Rhaenyra. “You don’t meet a lot of med students who look that composed in the middle of spring break.”

Rhaenyra smiled, even as her cheeks warmed slightly. “That’s because you haven’t seen my sleep schedule.”

“Sounds like someone needs a real break,” Harwin said, leaning back a little in his chair. “You’ll have to let us show you more of LA while you’re here.”

Alicent cleared her throat, reaching for her water glass. “We’ve got a pretty packed schedule,” she said lightly, eyes fixed on the tablecloth.

Harwin glanced at her and smiled. “Of course. But if there’s time, you know where to find me.”

The check came not long after, and as they stood to leave, Harwin offered Rhaenyra a parting grin. “Really nice meeting you,” he said, and though it was polite, the weight of it lingered longer than it should’ve.

As they walked back into the lobby, Dany gave Rhaenyra a smug look. “He was totally into you.”

Rhaenyra rolled her eyes. “He was nice.”

“He was flirting,” Dany said.

Alicent didn’t say anything. She walked slightly ahead of them, her jaw tight, her stride a little faster than usual.

///

The living room was washed in warm light, the late LA sun cutting through the sheer curtains. Rhaenyra lounged across the couch, legs tangled in a throw blanket, eyes lazily scanning the worn pages of the book Alicent had given her. Dany, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with boredom, sprawled across the floor and scrolling aggressively through her phone.

“I’m so bored,” Dany groaned, flopping onto her back with all the dramatics of a Shakespearean tragedy. “Let’s go out.”

“No,” Alicent said from the kitchen without even looking up from her laptop. “You’re underage.”

Dany sat up like she’d been shot. “Oh my god, Ali. That has never stopped anyone. We have fake IDs.”

“I did not just hear that,” Alicent said, glancing over her shoulder with a slow blink.

Rhaenyra snorted, pressing her nose deeper into her book to hide her grin. The sisters bickered like this constantly, but it never failed to amuse her.

“I’m serious,” Dany said, crawling over to the edge of the couch. “You’re being such a buzzkill. Just take us out for one night. Please. For me. You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing,” Alicent muttered.

“If you won’t,” Dany said with a little smirk, “I bet Harwin will. He has a hard-on for Rhaenyra anyway.”

“Dany, stop,” Rhaenyra groaned, setting the book down and shooting her a look. “If you think Harwin is so great, then you go out with him.”

Alicent cut her sister a sharp glance. “Right, because Jon would love that.”

Dany bit her bottom lip—just a flicker of guilt before she recovered. A beat of silence stretched awkwardly between them.

Alicent’s eyes narrowed, slowly glancing between them. “Wait. Did you… are you… did you and Jon—?”

“We’re on a break,” Dany said quickly. Too quickly. Her voice pitched up slightly, a little too loud for the room.

Alicent blinked, her expression tightening. “What happened?”

Dany exhaled, staring up at the ceiling like it would offer an escape. “The distance. We’re far. It’s hard.” She waved a hand like she was done with the topic. “I don’t wanna get into it.”

Alicent looked over at Rhaenyra, her brow slightly furrowed. Rhaenyra caught the glance and gave a small, sad smile, barely a twitch of her lips. It said everything Alicent needed to know—Dany wasn’t okay, not really.

Alicent sighed and cleared her throat, standing up. “Fine. We’ll go out.”

Dany perked up immediately. “Wait, really?”

“I know a place that won’t blink at your fakes,” Alicent said, grabbing her phone. “But—” She held up a finger as both girls started to cheer. “Two drinks. Each. That’s it.”

Dany grinned, throwing her arms in the air. “God, I love you.”

Rhaenyra shook her head with a laugh, her gaze drifting toward Alicent—something soft in her expression that she didn’t bother hiding this time.

///

The bar was already buzzing when they stepped inside—low lighting, music pulsing gently through the speakers, and just enough bodies pressed together to make the place feel alive without being unbearable. Dany made a beeline for the bar, dragging Rhaenyra with her, and ordered without hesitation.

“Three double shots of tequila and three of whatever the hell this place does best,” she told the bartender, flashing her fake ID like she’d done it a hundred times before.

Alicent caught up just as the bartender slid the shots across the counter. “Dany—what did I say?”

“One round,” Dany said sweetly, pressing a shot glass into Alicent’s hand. “And this is one round.”

Alicent gave her a look, but took the shot anyway. “This is two drinks in one glass.”

“Semantics,” Dany sang, already handing Rhaenyra her glass and raising her own. “To sisterly bonding!”

They clinked. The tequila burned on the way down, warm and sharp, and Rhaenyra winced as she set the glass down. Alicent gave a quieter grimace, but it faded quickly.

They didn’t even make it to a second round before Dany was waving someone over across the room. Harwin. He’d clearly been invited without Alicent’s knowledge, and he joined with an easy smile, slipping into the circle like he’d always belonged. His eyes found Rhaenyra almost immediately, though he kept his attention on Dany as they drifted toward the opposite side of the bar to talk.

Alicent and Rhaenyra were left at a small table near the back—two seats angled inward, quiet enough to hear each other over the music. Rhaenyra pulled off her jacket and leaned back into the booth, stretching her legs out casually beneath the table.

“This is surprisingly nice,” she said, glancing around.

“You mean going out with your best friend and her terrifying older sister?” Alicent sipped her cocktail, raising an eyebrow.

Rhaenyra smiled. “Exactly.”

Their table was tucked just enough away from the bar that it felt like its own little world—warm lighting above them, the soft hum of music filling the pauses. They talked easily, letting conversation drift from classes to childhood summers, to weird professors and even weirder clients.

Rhaenyra laughed when Alicent described a case involving a stolen koi fish from a millionaire’s backyard. “You’re making that up.”

“I wish I was,” Alicent said, smiling. “I’ve never seen so many grown people so emotionally destroyed over a fish.”

They settled into a rhythm, the kind that felt easy and unspoken—Rhaenyra’s foot brushed against Alicent’s under the table once, but neither of them moved. They didn’t notice how close they were sitting until someone bumped into the corner of their table and neither of them shifted away.

Alicent glanced toward the bar where Dany was still talking to Harwin, laughing, already halfway through another drink she wasn’t supposed to have. She rolled her eyes affectionately.

“She’s going to make me gray before I’m thirty,” Alicent muttered.

Rhaenyra smiled. “She’s a handful.”

“She’s chaos,” Alicent said, but there was warmth in it. She glanced back at Rhaenyra. “You keep her grounded. Always have.”

There was something unspoken there, something quiet and flickering just beneath the surface. Rhaenyra looked down at her drink, then back up at Alicent. Her voice was soft when she said, “You really gave me the nicest birthday gift I’ve ever gotten.”

Alicent blinked, a little caught off guard by the shift in tone. “It wasn’t much.”

“It was,” Rhaenyra said, meeting her gaze. “You remembered something that mattered.”

A beat passed. Alicent didn’t know what to say to that, so she just gave a quiet smile, fingers tapping once against the glass in her hand.

Their knees brushed again beneath the table, and neither of them moved.

///

Harwin and Dany rejoined the table in a flurry of laughter and the scent of too-sweet cocktails. Dany was clinging to Harwin’s arm like they were old friends, her eyes shining and a little glassy. Rhaenyra looked up as they approached, and Alicent watched the way Harwin’s gaze immediately zeroed in on her.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Dany grinned, her voice a little too loud. “But I dragged this one back for you, Rhae.”

Rhaenyra blinked, confused for a half-second, until Harwin gave a sheepish smile and offered his hand to shake. “Hey again. I didn’t get much of a chance to talk to you earlier.”

Rhaenyra took it, polite but a little stiff. “Yeah. It’s been a busy night.”

Harwin, to his credit, didn’t push. He sat down beside her, angling his body just enough to face her, but not in a way that boxed her in. “You’re at Princeton, right?”

Rhaenyra nodded. “First year. Pre-med.”

“That’s impressive,” he said, and the admiration in his voice was genuine. “I don’t think I could’ve handled that. Law school’s its own beast, but I don’t miss organic chemistry.”

Rhaenyra laughed softly. “No one does.”

Alicent sat back, sipping her drink, watching the whole thing with thinly veiled irritation. Not at Harwin—he was harmless, polite, clearly smitten. It was the way Dany looked so smug about it, like she’d orchestrated the whole thing. Like dragging Harwin back was some grand plan. And worse—she’d interrupted something. Alicent and Rhaenyra had been talking, really talking, and it had felt so rare and easy that the abrupt shift left a strange ache in her chest.

“Ali,” Dany said suddenly, turning to her. “Come dance with me.”

Alicent raised a brow. “You’re hammered.”

“That’s not a no,” Dany said with a devilish grin, already grabbing her hand. “Come on. Let them get to know each other.”

Alicent’s stomach twisted. She knew exactly what Dany was doing—giving Rhaenyra and Harwin space, nudging things along. She wanted to protest, to stay in her seat and keep talking to Rhaenyra, but Dany’s grip was insistent and the look on her face dared her to say no.

With a tight smile, Alicent rose. “Fine.”

Dany pulled her toward the dance floor, and as soon as they were a few feet away, Alicent’s jaw tightened. The music was loud, the lights dim, and Dany was already swaying like she didn’t have a care in the world.

“You’re welcome,” Dany sing-songed, spinning once in a circle.

Alicent gave her a withering look. “You’re so transparent.”

Dany just grinned wider. “You needed to get out of your own head.”

But as Alicent glanced back toward the table, watching Rhaenyra politely nodding along to whatever Harwin was saying, she felt nothing but irritated. She tried to push it down—tried to tell herself it was just the interruption, just the loss of that rare ease—but the knot in her chest didn’t go away.

She danced anyway, pretending she wasn’t constantly glancing over her shoulder.

///

Alicent made her way back to the table, her heels clicking softly against the bar’s worn floorboards. Dany had disappeared into the mass of bodies on the dance floor, now grinding against some guy in a backwards cap with a beer in each hand. Harwin was at the bar ordering something, his tall frame leaning casually against the counter.

Rhaenyra was alone at the table again, sipping what looked like a watered-down vodka soda and absentmindedly watching the crowd.

Alicent slid into the seat beside her. “So,” she said, the corners of her mouth tugging into something just a bit too dry to be playful, “is it a match then?”

Rhaenyra blinked, confused for a beat. “Huh?”

“You and Harwin,” Alicent said, keeping her tone light, even. “He seems… enthusiastic.”

“Oh—no.” Rhaenyra shook her head, eyes wide. “No, I let him down easy. I mean, he’s sweet, but—no. I didn’t want to make things weird for you at work.”

Alicent’s brows lifted. “For me?”

“Well, yeah,” Rhaenyra said with a half-shrug. “You said he’s a junior at your firm, right? If I hooked up with him and things got weird, that could be awkward for you. And… I don’t know, you brought me to lunch there. I just didn’t want it to seem like—anything.”

Alicent blinked. There was something about Rhaenyra’s tone—soft but careful, thoughtful in a way that made her chest tighten slightly. “That was considerate,” she said after a moment. “But I would’ve survived.”

Rhaenyra smirked a little, but her expression faded back to something more neutral. “I just wasn’t really feeling it anyway.”

A beat of silence passed as Alicent swirled the last bit of her drink in her glass. The music pulsed faintly in the background, the air around them thick with the buzz of chatter and bass.

“Are you seeing anyone?” Rhaenyra asked, her tone casual, almost like she regretted it the second it left her mouth.

Alicent hesitated. “No,” she said. “Not really anything serious. I mean my last real relationship was Eryk.”

“Yeah.” Rhaenyra took a slow sip of her drink. “You didn’t seem very… into him.”

Alicent let out a soft laugh. “He was nice. Safe. Boring. The kind of guy you date when you want to prove something to yourself. Or your parents.”

Rhaenyra tilted her head, studying her. “And did it work?”

“I don’t know,” Alicent admitted, her voice a bit quieter. “I kept telling myself it would. But it never really felt… right.”

Rhaenyra hummed in quiet acknowledgment, her eyes flicking back to the crowd. “Yeah. I get that.”

Alicent looked at her. “What about you?”

Rhaenyra shrugged again, a small wry smile tugging at her mouth. “Same..nothing serious.”

Alicent nodded slowly, her fingers tapping absently against the rim of her glass. “Maybe that’s the smart way to go about it.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward slightly, resting her chin on her hand, her gaze flicking to Alicent. “You think I’m smart?”

Alicent smirked, a slow curl at the edge of her mouth. “Don’t get cocky. I think you’re too intense to settle for anything casual.”

Rhaenyra arched a brow. “You think I’m intense?”

Alicent glanced at her, holding her gaze for a beat too long. “Yeah,” she said, voice a little softer now. “But not in a bad way.”

Rhaenyra didn’t say anything to that. She just smiled, slow and quiet, her teeth catching her bottom lip for a second before she took another sip of her drink. “Well. Maybe I’m trying something new.”

Alicent hummed. “Let me know how that goes.”

Their knees bumped under the table—barely a touch, just enough to register—and neither of them moved away. They both noticed, but neither acknowledged it.

Rhaenyra’s eyes dropped to Alicent’s mouth as she took another slow sip of her cocktail, the condensation dripping down the side of the glass. She didn’t mean to look, didn’t mean to stare, but she did. She couldn’t help it.

Alicent caught her glance and tilted her head just slightly, like she was about to say something snide, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she took another sip too, her lips parting slowly around the rim of the glass.

“How’s the book?” Alicent asked after a moment, her voice pitched a little lower now. The buzz from the drinks was creeping in warm and slow, loosening her edges.

Rhaenyra smiled again, softer this time. “Perfect. I didn’t think you remembered how much I liked it.”

“I remember a lot of things,” Alicent said. Her eyes were on Rhaenyra now, steady and unreadable. “You used to read it every winter break.”

“I still would if you hadn’t stolen it from Otto’s library and wrapped it like a real gift,” Rhaenyra said, trying to make it light, but her voice came out quieter than intended.

Alicent’s smile twisted. “It wasn’t stealing. It was… strategic repurposing.”

Rhaenyra let out a breath of a laugh. Her hand was still resting on the table, and at some point, Alicent’s had drifted close—close enough that her pinky nearly brushed Rhaenyra’s.

The air between them changed—thickened. Tension pulsed in the space like static. Neither of them moved.

“You always do that,” Rhaenyra said softly, eyes flicking between Alicent’s and her lips.

“Do what?”

“Make everything sound like it was meant to happen.”

Alicent blinked, and something flickered behind her eyes. “Maybe it was,” she said, her voice almost too quiet to hear.

There was a pause.

Harwin reappeared beside the table, grinning, holding three double shot glasses precariously between his large hands. “All right,” he announced, setting them down with a clink. “Final round. Cap it at this.”

Alicent blinked at the sight of them. “No way,” she said, her voice laced with disbelief. “We’ve already had way too many.”

Harwin laughed, nudging one of the glasses toward her with a charming, hopeful smile. “Come on, Counselor. Don’t make me drink alone.”

Rhaenyra shrugged, already reaching for one. “You heard the man.”

Alicent watched her down it without hesitation, the smooth arch of her throat catching the light, her eyes closing for just a moment as the burn settled. She looked… at ease. Glowing, almost.

Shit, Alicent thought, grabbing her own glass. What am I doing drinking with these kids?

But she took the shot anyway, knocking it back with practiced ease. The warmth slid down her throat, igniting a slow spark in her chest.

She set the glass down a little harder than necessary and met Rhaenyra’s eyes across the table. The younger woman gave her a look—half amused, half daring—and for a moment, all Alicent could do was breathe through the way it made her pulse flutter.

They were definitely past their limit.

And the worst part? Alicent didn’t really want to stop.

///

Alicent woke up with her face pressed into the side of her pillow, her mouth dry as sandpaper and her skull pounding like someone was drumming on the inside of it. Her dress from the night before was twisted halfway up her thigh, and her bra strap had somehow migrated to her elbow.

She groaned, dragging herself upright. The light filtering through the blinds was criminally bright, and her hair was in a tangle that spoke of sleep and sweat and too much tequila. She blinked around her room—everything was intact, nothing too chaotic—and tried to piece together how she’d gotten home.

The last clear memory she had was of that final round of double shots. Harwin grinning, Rhaenyra tipping her head back. Then—

Nothing.

Shit.

She stood slowly, wobbling slightly on her bare feet as she padded out into the hallway, her body sluggish, her head still catching up. The guest room door was cracked, and she peeked inside to find both Dany and Rhaenyra sound asleep in the twin beds. Dany was half hanging off hers, a leg hooked over the edge, her mouth open. Rhaenyra was curled tightly into her blanket, peaceful, her brow faintly furrowed even in sleep.

They were home. Safe.

Alicent exhaled slowly, the sister-alarm finally dialing back down. Okay. Good.

Still rubbing the back of her neck, she wandered to the kitchen and spotted her phone lying on the counter next to an abandoned glass of water. She picked it up and blinked at the screen, squinting against the light as she unlocked it.

There were pictures.

There it was.

Tucked between a flash shot of Dany throwing up peace signs with a vodka soda and a blurry video of Harwin singing along to Mr. Brightside like his life depended on it—was a photo that made Alicent’s blood run hot and cold at the same time.

It was her and Rhaenyra, clearly sitting at the bar, but not just sitting.

Alicent’s hand was on Rhaenyra’s cheek.

It wasn’t overt, not some public display of anything—no kiss, no embrace. But the look on Rhaenyra’s face, eyes half-lidded, slightly tilted toward her, and the unmistakable tenderness of Alicent’s touch—her palm cradling Rhaenyra’s jaw, fingers curved just below her ear—was undeniable.

It looked intimate. Too intimate.

Alicent stared at the screen, her heart hammering now, her breath caught somewhere in her throat. She didn’t remember this. Not exactly. She remembered the warmth of Rhaenyra beside her, the feel of the room spinning gently, the sound of her own laugh. But this?

She swallowed hard.

She could almost imagine what had happened. A moment of drunken closeness. Maybe Rhaenyra said something. Maybe Alicent laughed. Maybe she’d leaned in and done it without thinking—her hand rising to her face like she’d done it a hundred times before. But she hadn’t.

She hadn’t.

Had she?

Alicent set the phone down quickly, stepping back from the counter like it had burned her.

///

Alicent had barely slept.

The pounding in her head hadn’t eased with the shower, and the fog of last night still clung to her brain like steam on the mirror. She tried—really tried—to piece it together. The bar, the drinks, Dany dancing, Harwin flirting, her and Rhaenyra… talking. Laughing. Getting closer. That photo. God, the photo.

She hadn’t even remembered it until she saw it. And now? Now her mind kept replaying it like a loop, imagining what she could’ve said. What Rhaenyra might’ve said. Had something else happened?

“No,” she told herself firmly under the hot spray of the water. “No way. I wouldn’t let that happen.”

But the conviction didn’t stick. Because some part of her—the part that had been slowly unraveling since last spring—wasn’t so sure anymore.

She sighed and shut off the water, wrapping the only towel left—a small, hotel-style thing that barely covered her ass—around her body with a muttered curse.

Alicent cracked the bathroom door an inch and peeked down the hall.

Still. Quiet.

She exhaled. Just ten seconds. That’s all she needed to get to her room without incident. Dany and Rhaenyra were surely still asleep.

The towel she clutched barely covered her — the last clean one from yesterday’s laundry, half the size it should’ve been — but it would do.

She stepped out fast, bare feet light on the hardwood, heart racing as she crossed the hallway—

And slammed straight into someone rounding the corner.

“Shit!”

The towel slipped. Alicent gasped, stumbled, arms flailing and collided hard.

They hit the floor with a thud. A full-body, skin-on-skin, breath-stealing thud.

Rhaenyra grunted under her, eyes flying open in surprise as they crashed. Alicent landed sprawled across her chest, her thigh between Rhaenyra’s legs, her entire body pressing into solid warmth.

And the towel was gone.

“Fuck,” Rhaenyra muttered, her voice strained, her hands snapping to Alicent’s waist as if to steady her—only to freeze when she realized just how much of Alicent she was touching.

Bare skin. Warm and soft and completely, completely exposed.

Rhaenyra’s eyes dropped before she could stop herself.

And then—she saw.

All of Alicent.

Every inch, flushed and bare and impossibly close. Her breath caught in her throat, her brain stalling in some stunned, fevered state of overload. For a split second, she couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Could only stare.

Alicent let out a shocked gasp, realizing what had just happened. Her hand flew to Rhaenyra’s shoulder as if to shove off, but she faltered when she felt the sharp, unmistakable twitch beneath her. She could feel it — that — right against her hip.

“Oh my God,” Alicent breathed, blinking down—naked, splayed on top of a very wide-eyed, very flushed Rhaenyra in nothing but thin sleep shorts and a sports bra.

Alicent came to her senses and scrambled back, grabbing wildly for the towel, her face going crimson. “Rhaenyra!”

“I didn’t mean to look!” Rhaenyra said quickly, slapping a hand over her own eyes even though it was far too late for that. “You fell on me! You were—you—God, I’m so sorry—”

Alicent was already halfway up, fumbling the towel back over her chest, her breath shaky as hell. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I was! And then suddenly—boobs!”

“Don’t say boobs! Oh my God!” Alicent all but shouted, backing into the safety of her room, door slamming behind her.

Rhaenyra groaned from the hallway floor, one hand dragging down her face. Her whole body was burning.

“Jesus Christ,” she muttered, again, to absolutely no one.

“Jesus Christ,” Rhaenyra muttered, again, to absolutely no one.

That’s when Dany’s door creaked open down the hall.

She stepped out, hair a mess, sleep still in her eyes. “What is—” Her voice stopped short as she blinked down at Rhaenyra, who was sprawled on the hallway floor, flushed bright red, her chest heaving, a very obvious situation happening beneath the thin fabric of her sleep shorts.

Dany’s eyes widened. Her gaze flicked from Rhaenyra… to the wet streaks of water on her arms… to the direction Alicent had fled, door now slammed shut.

“…Well,” Dany said flatly. “What the hell.”

Rhaenyra groaned, covering her face with both hands. “Do not—do not—start.”

“I’ll give you a minute but you’re explaining this later,” Dany said, crossing her arms and raising a single, brutal eyebrow. “Because clearly I missed everything.”

///

Alicent slammed her bedroom door and pressed her back to it, heart racing, skin still damp and prickled from the sudden blast of cold air—and the contact. God, the contact.

Her towel barely clung to her. Her chest rose and fell in uneven bursts. She’d landed on Rhaenyra—completely on her—bare and flushed and still wet from the shower, pressed against firm, startled muscle and long limbs and—

Alicent groaned into her hands. “Oh my God.”

Alicent sat at the edge of her bed, elbows braced on her knees, hands tangled in the damp mess of her hair.

She felt sick.

Not hangover-sick, though that wasn’t helping. This was deeper—curdled low in her gut, rising up in her throat every time she replayed the last ten minutes in her mind.

The towel. The stumble. The crash. Rhaenyra’s body under hers. Her hands on her waist. The heat between them. The way her omega had responded—uncontrolled, undeniable, completely and utterly shameful.

She’s a kid, Alicent thought, over and over again, like it might drown out the part of her still buzzing from the contact. She just turned nineteen. She’s Dany’s best friend. I watched her grow up. This is disgusting. What is wrong with me?

Her omega was spiraling. Reacting. Flaring so hard in her chest she thought she might throw up. She staggered toward the dresser and yanked it open blindly, not even registering the clothes she was grabbing. Her body was buzzing. Humming. Throbbing, even—and not in any way she wanted to acknowledge.

Rhaenyra had been hard.

Not subtly, not passingly—undeniably. Alicent had felt it. That stiff, sharp pressure under her hip. That startled little grunt from Rhaenyra’s chest when she’d landed on her.

She tried to tell herself it was biology. Reflex. Instinct. Young alpha, older omega—of course Rhaenyra would react to that, anyone would, especially someone that age, especially someone still figuring themselves out—

But it wasn’t just that.

Rhaenyra’s hands had gone to her waist. Held her there. And then she’d looked up at her like—

Alicent yanked a loose pair of sweats up over her hips, muttering under her breath. “No. No, no, no.”

She was not going to spiral. She was not going to read into this. She was hungover, already emotional, running on zero sleep, and her omega was just acting out after months—years, maybe—of neglect.

It was a fluke. A blip. Biology.

Alicent dragged her palms over her face, her whole body shaking. She needed to get a grip. And fast.

///

Rhaenyra buried her face in her hands, groaning. “I swear to God, Dany. I didn’t mean for it to happen. She just—she was in a towel and then she wasn’t and then she was on top of me and I—”

Dany blinked. “Wait, wait.” She leaned forward on the couch, suddenly alert. “You’re telling me… my sister… naked… fell on you.”

Rhaenyra nodded miserably.

“And you were, like—”

“Yes,” Rhaenyra hissed, cutting her off, cheeks flaming. “I was hard, okay? Can we not say it out loud again?!”

Dany cackled, absolutely delighted. “Oh my God, you got hard! From my sister!!”

“Please,” Rhaenyra groaned, dropping her head to the table. “I’m going to throw myself off the deck.”

“No, no, no—wait, back up,” Dany said through laughter, barely breathing. “She was naked-naked?”

“Yes, Dany.”

“And she landed on you?”

Rhaenyra nodded, still not lifting her head.

Dany clutched her stomach, tears forming at the corners of her eyes. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“It’s not funny,” Rhaenyra whined.

“It’s a little funny,” Dany managed, wiping her eyes. “God, your face when I opened that door—I thought you were gonna burst into flames.”

“I might have. I was sweaty! And then she landed on me! I didn’t even have a chance to react. Her skin was—she was—” She stopped herself, shuddering. “I need to go to church. Or prison. Or both.”

Dany fell over laughing again, fully useless now.

“I can never look her in the eye again,” Rhaenyra mumbled into the couch cushion.

“Honestly,” Dany said between wheezes, “neither can she.”

///

Alicent emerged from her bedroom exactly one hour later, hair brushed, face composed, fully dressed like nothing had happened—as if she hadn’t full-body tackled Rhaenyra naked just that morning. Her expression was carefully neutral, but the second her eyes landed on Rhaenyra curled on the couch, stiff as a board, a faint flush crept up her neck.

“Did you guys have coffee yet?” she asked, breezing into the kitchen like a sitcom character trying to pretend everything was fine.

Dany snorted instantly. “No way I’m letting this slide.”

Alicent turned, fixing her with a look. “Dany. Seriously. Stop.”

The tone was pure older sister—flat, warning, utterly unimpressed.

Dany threw her hands up. “What? Both of you are acting so stupid! It’s not a big deal, it’s biology. It was an awkward, weird-ass, random thing that happened. It’s fine.”

Rhaenyra was already turning red again, like it was her full-time job. “Alicent, I’m so sorry that I… um. That I got…”

“Oh God, Rhaenyra, please stop.” Alicent waved a hand, her voice clipped and mortified and adult in the most uncomfortable way. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Don’t say it. Just—don’t.”

“I didn’t know anyone was up,” she added, half-defensive as she opened the cabinet for mugs. “And it was the only towel in the bathroom. I just—needed to get to my room.”

“She sprinted out like a feral cat,” Dany offered helpfully. “And then slammed into Rhaenyra and—”

“Dany,” Alicent snapped, pointing a warning finger at her without turning.

Rhaenyra groaned into her hands.

“It’s a funny story,” Dany said, grinning like the devil. “Let it go.”

Alicent set the mug down a little too hard on the counter, the clink of ceramic sharper than intended. She paused, eyes still on the coffee, then glanced up at Rhaenyra, who looked like she might be physically trying to merge with the couch cushions.

“Really, though…” Alicent’s voice was quieter now, something more careful creeping into it. “Did I make you uncomfortable?”

Rhaenyra’s head snapped up. “What? No. No, not at all—seriously. It was an accident. Like—just a weird, stupid accident.”

Their eyes met. A second too long.

Alicent cleared her throat, nodding quickly, already pouring coffee like it was her job. “Right. Totally.”

“It’s fine,” Rhaenyra mumbled, cheeks still pink.

“It’s so not a big deal,” Dany added from the arm of the couch, dramatically tossing a pillow at them. “You both look like you saw a ghost.”

“We kind of did,” Rhaenyra muttered under her breath.

Dany leaned forward. “Okay—anyway—does anyone have pictures from last night? Because I only remember like, maybe 40% of it.”

Alicent froze mid-pour. Her back stiffened just slightly.

Rhaenyra glanced over at her, noticing.

Dany tilted her head, clocking the hesitation. “What? You don’t remember anything either?”

“I remember some,” Alicent said, too casually, too breezily. She forced a smile. “Just… bits and pieces.”

Rhaenyra was quiet.

Dany looked between them, slowly narrowing her eyes. “Huh.”

Dany turned to Rhaenyra, stretching like a cat on the couch. “Do you remember what happened last night? Because seriously, I swear I blacked out right after those second round of shots.”

Rhaenyra’s fingers tightened around her mug. “Yeah,” she said simply, not looking up. “I remember.”

There was something in the way she said it—too calm, too composed—that made Alicent glance up sharply. Her stomach gave a slow, uneasy twist.

Dany didn’t catch it. “Ugh, lucky. I feel like I missed half the night.”

But Alicent did catch it. The tone. The way Rhaenyra’s voice had dipped just slightly, like she was holding something back.

Alicent opened her mouth—then shut it again. She wanted to ask. Desperately. But something in her chest seized up.

So she looked down at her coffee instead.

“Right,” she said lightly. “Well. Probably for the best. No need to relive too much of it.”

///

“I swear to God, it was the most mortifying morning of my entire life,” Alicent said, pushing a piece of lettuce around her plate.

Talia, sipping her iced matcha, leaned forward, clearly far too entertained. “You’re telling me you body-slammed your sister’s best friend—naked?”

Alicent groaned and covered her face. “Don’t say it like that. It wasn’t like that.”

Talia grinned. “It was like that.”

“It was an accident! I thought both of them were asleep and I didn’t have a towel and I just—I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking.”

Talia let out a low whistle. “That poor alpha probably doesn’t know what hit her.”

Alicent blinked at her. “What?”

“She’s like, what, 19 now?” Talia said, raising an eyebrow. “Hormones raging. You? Fully naked? I’m amazed she didn’t pass out.”

“She was… surprised,” Alicent admitted, feeling heat crawl up the back of her neck.

Talia’s eyes narrowed slowly. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait—don’t tell me.”

Alicent blinked at her.

“Oh my God.” Talia’s grin widened. “There’s tension, isn’t there? Like, real tension.”

Alicent snorted. “There is not.”

Talia tilted her head. “Alicent.”

“There isn’t.”

Talia leaned in. “Then why do you look like you’re about to explode right now?”

Alicent cut her eyes away, cheeks pink. “She’s my sister’s best friend.”

“Who’s an adult,” Talia pointed out. “Barely, but still.”

“She’s 19,” Alicent said flatly.

“And you’re what, 28? That’s not illegal. It’s barely even eyebrow-raising.”

“She’s young.”

“She’s not in high school. You’re not her teacher. She’s not your intern. She’s literally just a hot young alpha who apparently saw you naked.”

“Talia—”

“Don’t Talia me. I’m just saying, if there’s a vibe, there’s a vibe. Age gap aside, she’s clearly not just your sister’s friend anymore.”

“There’s no vibe.”

“Okay.” Talia shrugged, way too smug. “But if there was one, would it really be the worst thing in the world?”

Alicent didn’t answer.

Which, of course, only made Talia grin wider.

///

Rhaenyra was sitting on the couch, and Alicent was across from her in that tiny white sundress, bare legs tucked under her, the hem riding too high.

Alicent shifted, leaned forward to grab her glass, and her hand brushed Rhaenyra’s knee. Just barely.

But it lingered.

And Rhaenyra’s breath caught.

Alicent looked up. Her eyes flicked to Rhaenyra’s lips. Then lower. Then back up again. Slowly, deliberately, she leaned in—and Rhaenyra didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—she kissed her.

It started soft. Hesitant. But then Alicent opened to her, let her in. Her fingers slipped into Rhaenyra’s hair, her other hand cupping her jaw, and everything tilted—went hot, fast. They were on the couch and then somehow they weren’t. Somehow Rhaenyra was on top of her, straddling her lap, grinding against her.

Alicent gasped, breath catching in Rhaenyra’s ear, and Rhaenyra couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. She pressed down harder, felt Alicent’s thigh between her legs, the slick drag of her shorts against hot skin.

Alicent’s hands dragged under her shirt. Her touch was feverish, reverent, her mouth at Rhaenyra’s throat, whispering things Rhaenyra couldn’t quite catch.

She rocked against her, harder now, chasing something she didn’t want to name. It felt so good, too good, too hot. The scent of Alicent’s omega heat—sweet and dizzying—was thick in the air.

“Alicent,” Rhaenyra groaned, low in her throat, hands fisting into the fabric of that little white dress. “God, I—”

She woke with a start.

Heart racing. Sheets kicked off. Skin damp.

Her hand was shoved down the front of her sleep shorts, thighs slick, her body thrumming with the sharp edge of orgasm that hadn’t quite finished.

She lay there, panting, staring at the ceiling in horror.

“Fuck,” she whispered, dragging her hand away like it burned.

It was just a dream.

Just a dream.

But her pulse still hadn’t settled. Her body still ached with the ghost of Alicent’s mouth on her skin.

She squeezed her eyes shut, tried to will it away—but it was already there, under her skin. Alicent’s scent, her breath, the feel of her legs tangled with hers.

Rhaenyra exhaled shakily and let her hand slip back down, slow and tentative. She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t.

But she was already too far gone.

She started to pump herself and let the image of Alicent come back fully—bare thighs, flushed cheeks, that tiny white dress riding high as she leaned in close, whispered Rhaenyra’s name like it meant something.

Her breath stuttered. Her fingers moved faster around her member.

In her mind, Alicent kissed her again. Let her touch her. Moaned her name. Called her baby. That was all it took.

Rhaenyra came with a soft, choked cry, biting her lip to keep from making a sound.

She lay there after, heart pounding, legs twitching, her hand still between her thighs.

And when the pleasure faded, all that was left was the weight of it—heavy and sweet and deeply humiliating.

She rolled to her side, face hot with shame.

///

By the third day, Rhaenyra couldn’t ignore it anymore.

Alicent was avoiding her.

She hadn’t thought much of it at first—Alicent always worked a lot, always had some meeting, some brief, some urgent thing she had to review. But this wasn’t just work. This was… pointed. Deliberate.

Every morning, Rhaenyra woke up to an empty apartment. Alicent’s car was gone, her coffee mug already rinsed out in the sink, not a trace of her besides the faintest lingering scent in the hallway. By the time they got back from the beach, or lunch, or wherever Dany dragged them off to next, Alicent was still out. Or if she was home, she was in her bedroom with the door closed, murmuring on a call. And when she finally emerged—if she emerged—it was only long enough to grab a glass of wine and mumble something about emails before disappearing again.

Rhaenyra tried not to care.

She did.

But she couldn’t help it. It was like the air changed every time Alicent walked into the room now. Like even her silence had weight.

That morning, she’d padded into the kitchen to find only Dany sitting cross-legged on the counter eating leftover pizza cold from the box. The apartment was quiet. No laptop clicks. No mug on the counter. No soft hum of Alicent’s Spotify jazz playlist playing in the background while she reviewed documents.

“She already left?” Rhaenyra asked, opening the fridge without really looking for anything.

Dany didn’t look up. “Left at six. She said something about needing to get ahead before depositions tomorrow.”

Rhaenyra nodded, closing the fridge. She stood there for a second, trying not to frown.

“Rhae?” Dany said suddenly.

“Yeah?”

“She’s been weird, right?”

Rhaenyra glanced over.

Dany tilted her head. “Like, not just me. You see it too?”

Rhaenyra hesitated. “She’s just busy.”

“Mm-hm.” Dany took another bite of pizza, chewing thoughtfully. “She’s avoiding you.”

Rhaenyra leaned back against the counter, crossing her arms. “I don’t know. Maybe. She’s… I don’t know.”

Dany raised a brow. “It’s been three days and you two have barely said more than five words to each other. You think that’s a coincidence?”

Rhaenyra didn’t answer. She just looked out the window at the stretch of blue sky beyond the high-rises. Her stomach twisted.

She didn’t want to say it aloud, but she missed her. Missed the version of Alicent who would linger in the kitchen, hair still wet from the shower, who would tease her about her horrible taste in coffee and ask how classes were going. She missed the version of them from just a week ago—comfortable, effortless, charged, maybe, but unspoken.

Now everything felt tight and uncertain. Like one wrong move would shatter whatever fragile thing was left.

“She’s probably just embarrassed,” Dany said around another bite. “I mean… your dick was literally out.”

Rhaenyra groaned. “Oh my God. Shut up please…it wasn’t actually out.”

“Fine, hard. Whatever, I’m just saying.”

Rhaenyra pressed her palms to her face. “Please let this week end.”

And somewhere downtown, Alicent sat in her firm’s sleek glass conference room, typing so hard her knuckles ached, pretending she hadn’t felt the heat of Rhaenyra’s skin against hers every single night since.

///

Alicent looked up when she heard the soft knock, her glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of her nose. “Yeah?”

The door creaked open, and Rhaenyra poked her head in, already looking unsure. “Hey. Can I…?”

Alicent sat up a little straighter, adjusting the blanket over her lap and closing her laptop. Her curls were a little mussed, the oversized glasses on her face making her look even softer, gentler than usual. Her pajama shirt was loose, pale cotton with a tiny embroidered collar, sleeves pushed up to her elbows. She looked so utterly domestic and soft that Rhaenyra’s heart ached just a little.

“Of course,” Alicent said, her voice soft. “Come in.”

Rhaenyra stepped inside, closing the door behind her. The room was warm and dim, lit only by the glow of the desk lamp. She made her way over and perched awkwardly at the edge of the bed, knees bouncing slightly.

Alicent tilted her head. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” Rhaenyra said too fast, then cleared her throat. “I mean—yes. I just. I didn’t wanna leave without… talking.”

A pause. Alicent waited.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flicked to the window, then the floor. “I know we already… I know we talked. Last winter. About the kiss and everything. And I wasn’t gonna bring it up again, because I know you already said—well, you said what you said. And I get it. I really do.”

Alicent’s expression softened, but she didn’t interrupt.

Rhaenyra’s fingers twisted in her lap. “It’s just—since then, it’s like… I don’t know. Everything’s been a little weird between us? And I hate that. I hate that I made it weird, because you matter to me. You all do. But you especially, and not because of… whatever that was. But just—because.”

Alicent blinked, lips parting slightly.

“And then the towel thing,” Rhaenyra added quickly, cheeks flushing, “which was literally just a horrible accident, I swear, and I didn’t mean to—God, it just spiraled. And then you’ve been so busy, and I didn’t wanna make it worse by saying something, but now we’re leaving tomorrow, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again, and it just didn’t feel right to not say anything.”

A beat of silence.

Alicent’s voice was soft when she finally said, “Rhaenyra.”

Rhaenyra looked up.

“You didn’t make it weird,” she said gently. “Okay? I mean, sure—some things have been… complicated. But you didn’t ruin anything. You’re not some silly kid who needs to apologize for existing.”

Rhaenyra laughed under her breath, a little embarrassed. “I don’t know. It kind of felt that way sometimes.”

“I know,” Alicent murmured. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like that.”

They sat there quietly for a moment. Then, slowly, Alicent reached across the blanket and laid her hand over Rhaenyra’s.

Rhaenyra stilled. Looked down at their hands. Then back at Alicent.

It wasn’t romantic. It wasn’t anything they had the words for. But it was soft. Warm. And for now, enough.

Rhaenyra gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

Alicent squeezed back.

///

The front door clicked shut behind her with a soft thud, and Alicent dropped her suitcase in the entryway with a sigh. The air smelled like lemon cleaner and something fresh from the oven. She slipped off her shoes, already loosening her shoulders as the quiet of the house wrapped around her like a blanket.

Her mother called from the kitchen, “We’re in here!”

We. That meant her parents were both home, probably preparing something for Otto’s birthday tomorrow. Alicent padded in, still in her travel clothes, her blouse wrinkled from the flight and her hair pulled into a low, tired bun.

“Hi,” she said, stepping into the warm light of the kitchen. Her mom was at the stove, stirring something that smelled like garlic and herbs. Otto was nowhere in sight, likely in his study.

Her mother turned with a warm smile, wiping her hands on a dish towel before wrapping Alicent in a hug. “You look exhausted.”

“Just the flight,” Alicent murmured into her shoulder. “LAX is hell.”

“You’re telling me. Go unpack. Dinner’s in an hour.”

Alicent nodded and made her way upstairs. She passed the framed photos on the wall—familiar snapshots of Dany at swim meets, family vacations in Lake Geneva, a few newer ones that must have been added this year. One of her and Dany in Aruba from their parents’ last trip. Another from Dany’s graduation party, her arm slung around Rhaenyra.

She paused at that one for half a second. Rhaenyra looked different now. She had that quiet intensity in her smile that came with age. It had been months since spring break, and Alicent hadn’t seen her since—not once. They texted, sure, the occasional emoji reply, a double-tap on a story, but nothing real.

She reached her childhood bedroom and opened the door. It smelled like lavender and old paperbacks. Her mom hadn’t changed a thing. Alicent dropped her carry-on and started unpacking, folding her blazer and slacks over the edge of her bed, organizing her toiletries mechanically.

Downstairs, her mother called again. “Did you see all the pictures from Europe? Dany and Rhaenyra had the time of their lives.”

Alicent poked her head out into the hallway. “I saw on Instagram.”

“They were all over Amsterdam. It looked magical. Backpacking, hostels, museums… I envy them.”

Alicent smiled faintly, stepping into the upstairs hallway. “They deserved it. They worked hard this year.”

Her mother nodded, distracted by the oven timer, then added, “Your father and I were joking the other day—well, not entirely joking—that we wouldn’t mind if Dany and Rhaenyra ended up together one day.”

Alicent’s face twisted. “Ew. No, Mom. They’re basically sisters. That would be like—like incest.”

“Oh, please. We’re not being serious,” her mother said, waving it off, though her voice was a little too wistful. “But we do love her. She’s something special, that one.”

Alicent didn’t answer right away. She just nodded, too quietly, and turned into the living room to grab a water bottle. Something sat tight and low in her chest—unnameable, familiar, unwanted.

She sat on the edge of the couch and opened Instagram. The most recent photo was of Rhaenyra on some rooftop, sunglasses perched on her head, hair longer now. Alicent’s thumb hovered, then scrolled past.

One week until she went back to LA.

And suddenly, that felt like a long, long time.

///

Otto’s birthday dinner had already begun to fill the house with noise—quiet laughter from the living room, glasses clinking, the murmur of conversation layered beneath the faint sound of classical music on the speakers. Alicent stood in the dining room, half-listening to her mother fuss over the table settings, when she heard the front door open.

She didn’t turn right away.

But she heard the familiar sound of Dany’s voice—louder than it needed to be—and then, underneath it, a voice that made her chest tighten unexpectedly.

Rhaenyra.

When she finally looked, her breath caught.

Rhaenyra stood in the entryway, holding a wrapped gift with both hands, her hair longer now—soft, loose waves framing her face, catching the early evening light like silk. Her skin was sunkissed from the summer, golden and warm, and she’d filled out in a way Alicent hadn’t expected. There was muscle—defined shoulders, toned legs—but there was something deeply, unmistakably feminine now too. The soft curve of her waist. The dip of her collarbone visible under the edge of her neckline. The slight swell of her chest beneath a cropped cream sweater that fit just right.

She looked… older. Grown.

Alicent’s heart gave a traitorous thump.

And then Rhaenyra saw her. She smiled.

“Hey,” she said softly, approaching, the wrapped gift still in hand.

Alicent offered a polite smile in return. “Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss Otto’s birthday,” Rhaenyra said, glancing toward the living room. “I got him a leather-bound edition of Churchill’s speeches. Thought he might like it.”

Alicent blinked. “He’ll love that.”

There was a beat. Rhaenyra looked at her, really looked, and then reached forward, one arm looping around her waist in a hug that surprised Alicent with how natural it felt—how gentle and warm and familiar.

Alicent hesitated for only a second before her hand came up to rest between Rhaenyra’s shoulder blades. She smelled like her usual scent—clean and fresh—but more mature now, deeper. Like amber and sun-warmed skin and something sweet she couldn’t place.

“Hi,” Rhaenyra murmured again, quieter this time. Her voice was low in Alicent’s ear.

Alicent pulled back. “Hi,” she repeated, softer now too. Her voice felt strange in her own throat.

Rhaenyra smiled, a little crookedly. “How’ve you been?”

Alicent exhaled slowly. “Busy. But I’m good. You?”

“Good,” Rhaenyra said. “Tired. But good. I missed… this.”

Alicent’s eyes flicked over her again before she could stop them—the delicate gold chain around her neck, the way her hair curled just slightly behind her ears, the way her mouth moved when she smiled. She swallowed.

“Me too.”

It was strange. Gentle. Easy. Just like that night in LA when they’d sat across from each other in the quiet, saying so little and so much all at once.

And just like that night, Alicent felt the same quiet, rising hum in her chest.

Something she couldn’t name.

Not yet.

///

Alicent stared at the message for a moment longer than she should have.

hey, would you want to grab coffee this week? just us—if you’re free. would be nice to catch up.

Just us.

Her thumb hovered over the screen. It wasn’t the wording exactly—Rhaenyra was casual, always had been—but something about the just us tugged at a part of her she’d spent the last few months diligently ignoring.

And yet… it was friendly. Rhaenyra made that clear. No subtext. No flirting. Just… catching up.

Still, it was strange. They’d never hung out one-on-one outside of ski trips or family things, not really. Dany had always been the buffer—the loud, brash, ridiculous middle between them. And lately, Dany had been glued to her new fling, disappearing for hours, whole days sometimes, completely absorbed.

Alicent had noticed.

She typed back before she could overthink it.

sure. thursday afternoon work?

The reply came back fast.

perfect. see you then :)

Alicent set her phone down and exhaled through her nose.

It was just coffee. Nothing weird. Nothing complicated.

But still, she found herself wondering—why now?

///

The café was quiet, tucked just off the main street, shaded by a cluster of trees whose leaves rustled softly in the early evening breeze. Rhaenyra sat at a corner table near the window, absently stirring her coffee as she watched people pass by outside. She’d been there for fifteen minutes, maybe twenty, nerves rolling under her skin despite how calm she tried to look.

She’d gotten Alicent’s coffee just the way she liked it—light oat milk, no sugar—and snagged the last blueberry scone from the case without even thinking about it. It had just been instinct. The kind of small thing you remember without meaning to. She’d pushed the plate toward the empty seat across from her without ceremony.

She wore a soft blue sweatshirt, hair loosely pulled back, but the waves had grown out more over the summer, thicker now, more defined. Her cheeks were a little sun-kissed, freckles darker from the Amsterdam trip. She looked—older. But not in a loud way. Just… more sure of herself.

When the bell above the door chimed, she glanced up.

Alicent stepped inside, all clean lines and muted colors—simple linen trousers, a tucked blouse, soft curls barely tamed, glasses sliding a little down her nose. She looked around, spotted her, and smiled—small but real.

“Hey,” she said as she slid into the seat.

“Hi,” Rhaenyra replied, soft.

Alicent glanced down at the table. “You got my coffee?”

“And your scone,” Rhaenyra said, nudging the plate. “Last one. Some guy was eyeing it but I pulled seniority.”

That made Alicent smile. She blinked once, caught slightly off guard. “You remembered.”

Rhaenyra shrugged like it was nothing. “You always ordered it when we’d go before Dany’s volunteering shifts. Figured it was still your thing.”

A pause. Not awkward—just warm.

“Thanks,” Alicent said, quieter now.

Alicent pulled a crumb from the edge of the scone and popped it into her mouth, humming faintly. “Still perfect,” she murmured, brushing her fingertips on a napkin. “I can’t believe you remembered.”

Rhaenyra shrugged, sipping her coffee. “I’m very observant.”

Alicent gave her a look over the rim of her glasses. “You’re very smug is what you are.”

“I’m just saying, not everyone takes mental notes of someone’s favorite pastry and their exact coffee order.”

“Well, not everyone makes it through organic chem and survives a summer backpacking with Dany, so you’re clearly one in a million.”

Rhaenyra smirked. “So you’re saying I’m impressive.”

“I’m saying you’re tolerable,” Alicent said, smiling despite herself.

Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, letting the sunlight catch in her hair. “You know, you didn’t have to come. I figured you’d be busy, or working remotely, or—I don’t know—too lawyer-y.”

Alicent tilted her head. “Why did you ask me to get coffee, anyway?”

Rhaenyra looked down at her cup, spinning it a little between her hands. “I guess I just realized… we’re always around each other when Dany’s there. It’s never just us. And she’s been all wrapped up with her… hook up situation, and I know you’re only here for like, what? A day or two more?”

“Flying back Sunday,” Alicent nodded.

“Right. So I figured… I don’t know. I wanted to see you.”

Alicent blinked. Her expression softened. “That’s… really nice,” she said, a little quieter than before.

Rhaenyra shrugged again, feigning casual. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late,” Alicent said, and they both laughed.

It was easy. It was warm. And when they smiled at each other across the table, neither of them looked away.

When they eventually stood up to leave, Rhaenyra lingered a moment beside the table, eyes flicking to Alicent’s face like she was waiting for something—then opened her arms, just slightly.

Alicent hesitated a beat, then stepped into it.

The hug wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t showy or intense. But it was warm. Solid. Lasting just long enough to mean something.

Rhaenyra’s arms wrapped around her back with quiet certainty, and Alicent let herself sink into the embrace. Just for a moment. Just long enough to breathe her in. To feel the soft weight of her chin brushing her shoulder, the way their bodies fit together without thought.

It felt like coming home.

And Alicent—tired, overworked, perpetually pulled between boundaries and expectations—let herself have it. That moment. That warmth.

She pulled back slowly, her hands brushing Rhaenyra’s arms. Their eyes met. Quiet. Charged. But calm.

///

The ski house looked the same as always—wind-battered, cozy, the mountain air crisp enough to sting her nose as Rhaenyra stepped out of the car. Dany was already inside, dropping bags and yelling something about who got the good room, and Jon trailed after her. They had gotten back together a few weeks ago,

Rhaenyra, slower behind them, lingered outside for a moment, squinting up at the second floor window where she could already see signs of life inside—lamplight spilling out, a familiar silhouette moving through one of the rooms.

She exhaled slowly. This year already felt different.

They hadn’t seen each other since that coffee in August, but the texting hadn’t stopped after that. If anything, it picked up. Rhaenyra didn’t even realize how naturally it had become part of her routine. A link sent here. A “good luck” before a test. A sarcastic comment about a Dany story. It had started as polite, maybe a little awkward—but now it was just them. Their own dynamic. One that didn’t involve Dany’s presence at all.

Inside the ski house, Rhaenyra dropped her duffel by the door and toed off her boots. She shook the cold out of her fingers and looked up just as Alicent came down the stairs.

She looked good—black leggings and a soft gray sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders, reading glasses tucked into her collar. Her expression was unreadable for a beat, then it melted into something warm. Not surprised. Not startled. Just… pleased.

“Hey,” Alicent said.

“Hey,” Rhaenyra replied, and that was it. Simple. But it held weight, the kind that sat gently between them like shared breath.

Dany shouted something from the back room. Jon was already unpacking beers. But Rhaenyra barely heard it—because Alicent stepped closer and wrapped her in a hug.

It wasn’t brief. It wasn’t rushed.

It was soft and warm and real. Alicent’s arms lingered around her back a second too long, and Rhaenyra’s nose brushed the curve of her shoulder before they pulled away.

“You look… good,” Alicent said.

Rhaenyra smiled, cheeks pink from the cold. “So do you.”

It was easy. Just like their texts. And for a moment, it felt like something else entirely—a soft place, familiar and safe, tucked away in the sharp edge of winter.

///

The restaurant was warm, all glowing lanterns and the clink of chopsticks against porcelain. Steam rose from the center of the table as dishes arrived one after the other—scallion pancakes, spicy tofu, sweet and sour eggplant, a mountain of dumplings that everyone kept reaching for without pause.

Rhaenyra sat between Dany and Alicent, the long table crowded with Hightowers and familiar family friends. Alicent’s parents were in good spirits, laughing with Otto’s old colleague across the way, while Jon made a show of downing a spoonful of hot oil-drenched noodles.

Rhaenyra leaned in slightly, her shoulder brushing Alicent’s as they both eyed the single dumpling left on the plate between them.

“Last one,” Alicent murmured, her voice low.

Rhaenyra turned to her, lips twitching. “I saw it first.”

Alicent’s mouth curved into a smile, chin tilted. “You were busy talking about how tofu isn’t a real protein. I get dibs.”

Rhaenyra arched a brow. “I was defending tofu.”

“You were slandering it.”

They stared each other down, eyes gleaming, faces only inches apart. It wasn’t flirtatious—at least, not obviously—but there was a closeness there, a natural ease that made Dany glance over from across the table, raising an eyebrow at how quietly they were laughing to themselves.

Alicent finally sighed, plucked the dumpling with her chopsticks, and dropped it onto Rhaenyra’s plate. “Here. I’ll be generous.”

Rhaenyra blinked at her. “You’re a saint.”

“Don’t forget it.”

Their knees bumped under the table and neither of them moved. The restaurant buzzed around them with conversation and clatter, but for a moment, it felt like there was just the two of them, sitting side by side, warmth shared between plates and small smiles.

///

Dany had gone to bed early, mumbling something about a headache and passing out in her room with the door half-closed. The house had quieted, the fire downstairs barely crackling now, and Rhaenyra stood outside Alicent’s door for a second longer than she should’ve before finally knocking.

Alicent opened it in soft cotton pajamas and reading glasses, papers spread across her bed. Her laptop was open beside her, and she looked up mid-highlight, one brow raised. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Rhaenyra said. “Dany’s asleep already and I can’t sleep, so… I was wondering if you wanted to watch a movie in the screening room?”

Alicent looked at her laptop for a second. There was a pause—like she really did consider saying no. But then she glanced up at Rhaenyra again, and the words didn’t come.

Instead, she shut the laptop.

“Yeah. Okay.”

They went downstairs in their pajamas, the house dim except for the soft lights on the stairs and the quiet hum of the heat. The movie Rhaenyra picked was a quiet documentary on rural health care systems—something no one else in the house would’ve had the attention span for, but it made sense for them.

Alicent curled up in one corner of the couch, blanket tucked over her legs, and Rhaenyra stretched across the other side, casual but close. The projector cast soft light over both of them, shadows dancing across their faces. They were still texting now and then—nothing flirty, not really. But it was theirs. Something that had started quietly over the last few months. Rhaenyra would send an article she thought Alicent would like. Alicent would ask how one of Rhaenyra’s lectures went. They were building something.

Alicent raised an eyebrow at the screen, then turned to Rhaenyra with a smirk. “Of course you picked a documentary.”

Rhaenyra shrugged, settling deeper into the couch. “It looked interesting.”

Alicent snorted. “You’re such a nerd.”

“Says the woman who agreed to watch it,” Rhaenyra shot back.

“Only because you asked,” Alicent said, reaching for the blanket. “I was tricked.”

Rhaenyra grinned. “You love it.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, but she was smiling too. “Sure. Nothing like lighthearted fun during vacation—like climate change and industrial collapse.”

Rhaenyra huffed a laugh and tugged the blanket tighter around her, the corner of her mouth tugging up.

It was easy, the kind of easy that felt rare. No expectations, just warmth and a shared silence as the film began. The kind of moment that didn’t ask for anything—but offered something anyway. Something slow and steady that neither of them wanted to name.

///

Alicent blinked awake to the soft hum of the TV screen still glowing in the dark, the documentary long since over. She felt warmth—more than just the blanket—and when she shifted slightly, she realized why.

Rhaenyra was curled against her like a koala, one arm flung over Alicent’s waist, her face tucked into the side of her neck, breath warm and even. One of her legs was slotted between Alicent’s, her whole body draped over her like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Alicent froze.

She stared at the ceiling, heart suddenly pounding—not in panic, but in that low, dizzying way that made her skin tingle.

It was innocent. Just… sleep. They’d both just drifted. That’s all.

Still, she could feel the weight of Rhaenyra’s body on hers, could smell the faint, warm trace of her scent—clean and sweet and something deeper underneath, something that made Alicent’s omega instincts stir in a way that pissed her off immediately.

This is exactly why she kept boundaries. Why she worked so hard to keep things easy. Gentle. Uncomplicated.

Because this—this was how it started unraveling.

Alicent swallowed hard and cleared her throat—just enough to stir movement. Rhaenyra shifted with a soft groan, her arm loosening enough for Alicent to carefully slip out from under her.

She stood up quietly, exhaling. Her chest still felt too warm, her skin still buzzing.

She tugged the blanket up gently, covering Rhaenyra’s sleeping form, then paused—just for a second.

Just long enough to look at her.

Then she turned off the TV, her jaw tight, and left the room without a word.

///

The ski trip had actually been… nice. Not chaotic or tense or messy the way things sometimes got with this group. Just a few quiet, wintry days of skiing, lounging around the house, and the occasional game night with friends. Nothing out of the ordinary. Dany had been unusually present the last few days too—talking more, dragging Jon into everything, making sure they all stayed entertained—which, frankly, made things easier for Alicent.

Easier to pretend.

Easier to keep things light and normal when Dany was sitting between her and Rhaenyra, or Jon was making everyone laugh, or when there was always something else to focus on. Easier to ignore the way Rhaenyra’s hand sometimes brushed hers when they passed a bowl of popcorn. Or the way Rhaenyra looked at her when she was talking—like she was really listening. Like she always was.

So it had been fine.

Until alcohol got involved.

Dany came bounding into Alicent’s room just after dinner, half-dressed in some tiny crop top and declaring that they were going to that one bar down the hill—yeah, the one that definitely accepted fake IDs, “especially if you look hot enough.”

Alicent didn’t even look up from her laptop. “No.”

“Yes,” Dany said, flopping dramatically onto her bed. “Come on. We deserve one night of mild debauchery.”

Alicent sighed, rubbed her temples. She didn’t want to go. She was tired. Her inbox was flooded. And yet—when she heard Rhaenyra’s soft voice call from the hallway, teasing, “Come on, counselor, live a little…”—something in her caved.

She shut her laptop with a quiet click. “Fine. One drink. I’m supervising.”

“You’re the hottest chaperone ever,” Dany joked in way only little sisters do when they’re getting their way.

Alicent rolled her eyes. But when she walked out into the hallway and saw Rhaenyra waiting, jacket already on, hair pulled back loose and soft, looking at her with that stupid half-smile that did things to her chest—she didn’t regret it. Not yet, anyway.

///

The bar was buzzing, warm with low lights and the hum of music that vibrated in the floorboards. The four of them—Alicent, Rhaenyra, Dany, and Jon—sat crowded around a small round table near the back. Two drinks in, and everything had softened—conversations ran easy, separate threads between pairs, with bursts of laughter cutting through every now and then.

Rhaenyra and Alicent had naturally leaned into their own world at the table’s edge, heads tilted slightly toward each other.

“ I haven’t seen you drinking since that night in LA,” Rhaenyra said, a half-smile on her lips.

“God.” Alicent shook her head. “I don’t even remember half that night.”

“ you know, I have to say you actually are a good dancer. I was surprised,” Rhaenyra said, casually, almost without thinking.

Alicent blinked. “I danced?”

“Yeah just a bit.”

Alicent’s eyes widened a little, lips parting. “No way.”

Dany, mid-conversation with Jon, perked up and twisted toward them. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“She said I danced in LA,” Alicent said quickly, brushing a hand over her knee like the motion could smooth out the sudden awkwardness. “ what is a bit hard to believe, you know I hate dancing.”

“Oh my God, yeah,” Dany laughed, pointing a lazy finger between them. “You were dancing all up on Rhaenyra.”

Alicent’s mouth dropped open. “Wait shut up, no I didn’t…did I?”

Dany just shrugged and turned back to Jon, already distracted again.

Alicent looked at Rhaenyra, horror creeping onto her face. “Was I—?”

Rhaenyra held up her hands gently, her voice low. “It wasn’t a big deal. Just… close dancing. It didn’t feel weird.”

Alicent’s posture stiffened slightly, her fingers tightening around her glass. “I don’t—God, I really don’t remember that.”

“It’s okay,” Rhaenyra said quickly, trying to smile. “I didn’t think anything of it. You were drunk. We all were.”

Alicent nodded slowly, but her eyes didn’t meet Rhaenyra’s. She looked flustered, clearly trying to play it off, but something uneasy lingered behind her expression. Rhaenyra clocked it immediately.

“It’s seriously not a big deal,” Rhaenyra said, softer this time.

But Alicent didn’t answer right away.

And that was when the door opened—and Missandei stepped in.

Missandei walked in like she owned the place—tall, radiant, shoulders relaxed in the way of someone who’d grown more confident with age. The low lighting caught on the gleam of her earrings, and for a split second, Rhaenyra forgot how to breathe.

She stiffened, nearly imperceptibly, her drink pausing at her lips.

Alicent’s ex.

Her first.

Rhaenyra remembered the stories—half overheard, half confided in late-night whispers with Dany. How Missandei had been older, smart, sharp, a year or two ahead of Alicent in school. How she was the one Alicent had hooked up with again at the ski house one of the first years Rhaenyra stayed there. Rhaenyra had been what—fourteen? Fifteen? When she first heard the name. Just a girl with a quiet, burning crush, cataloguing everything she could about the people Alicent loved.

So no, it wasn’t surprising to see her. But it still hit like a slap.

Especially now—especially now—with the lingering tension from the dance conversation still suspended between her and Alicent like a live wire.

Missandei spotted them quickly, smile blooming. And then she started walking over.

Alicent hadn’t noticed yet—she was still flustered, pushing a coaster around with her fingertips, lost in whatever memory she was trying to downplay. But Rhaenyra noticed. Every slow, confident step. The way Missandei’s gaze flitted first to Alicent, then—briefly, curiously—to her.

“Uh Alicent,” Rhaenyra muttered under her breath.

Alicent finally looked up—and froze. Well shit.

///

Two hours later, the table had splintered. Jon was nursing a beer, deep in conversation with some guy from the mountain who was overly passionate about powder conditions. Dany sat on the barstool beside him, watching the room with idle curiosity—until her eyes landed on Rhaenyra.

Brooding. At the bar. Arms crossed, back straight, jaw tight. Nursing her whiskey like it had personally wronged her.

Across the room, Alicent was leaning against a high-top table, deep in conversation with Missandei. It wasn’t flirty—not really. Just…comfortable. Familiar. The kind of conversation that had history stitched into its pauses.

Rhaenyra’s stare was unmistakable.

“Okay, damn,” Dany muttered, slipping off her stool and sliding up beside her.

“What,” Rhaenyra said flatly, eyes still locked on Alicent.

Dany didn’t even pretend to be subtle. “You are burning holes into her back. If you squint, I think smoke’s coming out of your ears.”

Rhaenyra tore her gaze away. “I’m not.”

“You are.” Dany leaned in, voice lower now. “Look, I’m not saying don’t feel what you feel. But if you’re gonna make googly puppy eyes from across the bar, at least come stand by me and Jon so you don’t look like a kicked dog.”

Rhaenyra glared. “I’m not making puppy eyes.”

Dany grinned. “You totally are. Come on, broody alpha, stop pouting and come be social before you implode.”

Rhaenyra hesitated. Glanced back over at Alicent and Missandei—still talking. Still smiling.

She clenched her jaw, then stood with a sigh. “Fine.”

Dany tossed an arm over her shoulder dramatically. “That’s the spirit. Come vibe with your actual people and stop pretending you’re not jealous.”

///

Alicent leaned against the high-top, arms crossed loosely as she listened to Missandei talk about her latest residency rotations. Her smile was easy, casual—the kind she hadn’t worn much lately.

“You haven’t changed at all,” Alicent said, lifting her drink with a smirk. “Still a shameless flirt.”

Missandei grinned. “Only with the people who deserve it.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, amused. It was easy with Missandei, always had been. They understood each other’s rhythms, even after all this time. It didn’t feel like anything was going anywhere—not really—it was just… comfortable. Familiar.

Missandei’s gaze drifted toward the bar where Dany was laughing with Jon and Rhaenyra, who was doing a poor job pretending she wasn’t staring.

“I can’t believe how old Dany is now,” Missandei said. “She’s like… a full adult.”

“I know,” Alicent said, letting out a small laugh. “Makes me feel ancient.”

Missandei took a sip of her drink. “God, I’d kill to be nineteen again. I’d do so many things differently.”

Alicent glanced over at her, half-curious. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Missandei looked at her then—really looked at her—and her smile curved into something a little softer, a little more pointed. “Well. I wouldn’t lose you, for one.”

Alicent groaned and shoved her lightly. “God. Shut up.”

“What?” Missandei grinned, pretending to be wounded. “That was a good line.”

“It was a line,” Alicent said, laughing despite herself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Still worked on you,” Missandei said under her breath, eyes bright.

Alicent shook her head, smiling as she turned back to her drink.

Missandei’s eyes glittered behind the rim of her glass, her smile lazy as she leaned closer. The bar was loud, dim, humming with bodies and music, but Alicent felt like she could hear every syllable Missandei breathed.

“It’s wild, right?” Missandei said, her voice a low murmur between them. “Feels like yesterday we were sneaking beers in your basement after mock trial.”

Alicent laughed, the memory hitting her like a wave. “And you tried to kiss me during A Few Good Men.”

“You loved that movie,” Missandei said with a grin. “You loved me quoting Nicholson.”

“I did not,” Alicent lied, eyes rolling.

Missandei smiled knowingly, but then her gaze softened. “We were such kids.”

Alicent glanced down at her drink, nodding slowly. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t like she thought about Missandei often. She didn’t. Not anymore. That chapter had ended years ago. But still, being here now—talking like this, the easy rhythm of it, the warm familiarity—it stirred something up. Something nostalgic. Something dangerous.

She hadn’t remembered how much Missandei could still make her laugh. How she could still pull these quiet looks from her, the kind that used to mean something. Something big. Something that once defined her.

And yet.

Her eyes kept drifting. Past Missandei. Around the room. Toward the soft, blurred shape of Rhaenyra sitting with Jon and Dany, all half-shadowed under the flicker of hanging bar lights.

She caught a glimpse of Rhaenyra laughing—head tipped back, flushed from the heat of the bar, the curve of her smile so effortlessly charming. Alicent quickly looked away.

Missandei noticed. She always noticed.

“You keep looking over there,” she said, not unkindly, not accusing—just observing. Like she used to.

Alicent blinked. “What?”

“Nothing,” Missandei said, holding her gaze a second too long. “You’ve always had that look when you’re running from something.”

Alicent scoffed. “I’m not running from anything.”

“You’re drinking whiskey,” Missandei said, tilting her glass toward her. “That’s your avoidant behavior drink.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“It is with you.”

Alicent shook her head, flustered. “You don’t know everything.”

Missandei smiled, leaning in again. “Don’t I?”

It was too warm in here. Alicent pulled her hair back, twisting it off her neck. The buzz of alcohol swam too close to her thoughts.

She wasn’t thinking about Rhaenyra. Not the way she smelled pressed into her on the floor. Not the way her laugh sounded across a café table. Not the way she hugged her, that long, soft hug like a secret she hadn’t wanted to let go of.

No. No.

She was not thinking about any of that.

“You okay?” Missandei asked, softer now.

Alicent met her eyes. “Yeah,” she said, the lie tight in her throat. “I’m good.”

Missandei studied her for a beat, then smiled again. “You always were a terrible liar.”

Alicent turned toward the bar, raised her hand for another drink. She needed the blur. Needed something to focus on that wasn’t soft curls and a Princeton sweatshirt and hands that held on too long.

///

Missandei’s hands were everywhere—sure, confident, familiar. Her mouth traced a path down Alicent’s throat, hot and open, while her body pressed her deep into the mattress, skin against skin, breath against breath.

Alicent stared at the ceiling moved like she remembered, knew exactly what to do, and Alicent’s body responded in kind—hips arching, thighs parting, soft moans slipping free when Missandei grazed just the right spot with her teeth.

It felt good. Of course it did. It had been months.

Alicent tilted her head back, lips parted as she exhaled shakily, the ceiling fan slicing lazy circles overhead.

She let Missandei take the lead, let her kiss down her sternum, let her press a thigh between her legs and rock slow. Her hands curled in the sheets, her mouth tugging at a breathy “God—” but it felt like her mind kept slipping. Out of her body. Up toward the ceiling. Toward the past.

And then—flashes she didn’t ask for.

A cold floor. A dropped towel. A sharp intake of breath. Soft eyes wide with shock. The press of Rhaenyra’s skin, the way she blinked up at her, stunned and silent. The sound Rhaenyra had made, quiet and tight in her throat when Alicent had scrambled off her.

Her thighs clenched involuntarily.

Missandei didn’t notice. Or maybe she did, and thought it was her doing.

“Still like that?” Missandei murmured, voice warm against her stomach. “God, you feel so good.”

Alicent bit her lip. Hard.

She wanted to enjoy this. She was enjoying this—wasn’t she?

But her mind kept slipping. Kept drifting.

A clumsy laugh over a blueberry scone. A soft “we should hang out sometime” text. A smile under snowlight. A pair of sweat-slicked shoulders at the three-mile mark. Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra.

Alicent dragged her hand over her eyes. “Shit…”

“Everything okay?” Missandei asked, looking up at her.

Alicent forced a breath, nodded. “Yeah. I’m—yeah. Just… keep going.”

Missandei smirked. “Didn’t plan on stopping.”

And they didn’t. All night.

///

The morning sun was too bright. It glared through the windows like it knew what she’d done.

Alicent walked into the kitchen looking exactly like someone doing the walk of shame—Missandei’s old Duke tee hanging off one shoulder, baggy pajama pants she’d dug up from the back of a drawer, hair a mess of curls she hadn’t even bothered to tame. She made a beeline for the coffee, head down, as if the scalding mug might somehow absolve her.

Dany didn’t even try to be subtle. From the island stool, she slow clapped.

Alicent didn’t look up. “Don’t.”

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Dany said, grinning. “You actually hooked up with Missandei? You know I always liked her.”

Alicent sighed through her nose, pouring coffee. “It’s not that serious.”

“You literally walked in wearing her shirt.”

“It’s a shirt, Dany.”

“It’s her shirt,” Dany said, raising her brows. “Come on. That’s… bold.”

Alicent finally turned around, mug clutched tight in her hands. “What do you want me to say? It was familiar. That’s it.”

Her eyes drifted across the kitchen—just for a second.

Rhaenyra was sitting at the far end of the island, eating cereal out of a chipped bowl, legs folded up in her chair, hair still damp from a shower. She hadn’t said a word. She hadn’t even looked up.

She was perfectly still, spoon halfway to her mouth.

Alicent’s stomach gave a subtle twist. She turned back to the counter.

“God,” Dany muttered. “This is so weird. You and Missandei. What even made you want to revisit that?”

Alicent exhaled. “I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t want to think for one goddamn second. Maybe it’s just been… a long time since someone wanted something easy from me.”

Dany blinked. “Okay. Chill.”

A beat passed. Rhaenyra’s spoon clicked softly against the ceramic bowl.

“I’m going upstairs,” Alicent said, setting her coffee down half full. “Before Mom and Dad see me like this and start asking questions I don’t feel like answering.”

Dany smirked. “Better scrub that Missandei scent off you first.”

Alicent rolled her eyes, already moving toward the stairs. “Shut up.”

She didn’t glance back.

But she felt it. That silence. That stillness.

Rhaenyra hadn’t said a word. Not once. And for some reason, that said more than anything else.

///

The barbell slammed into the rubber mat with a dull, echoing thud.

Jon whistled low under his breath, watching as Rhaenyra paced back to the rack, chest heaving, sweat dripping down her temples. “You’re gonna break the floor.”

She didn’t answer, just added another plate.

He sat back on the bench, arms crossed. “Last night really got to you, huh?”

Rhaenyra didn’t look at him. “I’m fine.”

Jon raised a brow.

She wrapped her hands around the bar again, jaw clenched, breath sharp through her nose. Her arms trembled, not from fatigue—yet—but from something more restless, deeper. She jerked the bar up, clean and fast, every movement like she was trying to erase a thought she couldn’t shake.

After the set, she let it fall with another crash and dropped to a knee, hand braced on her thigh.

“It’s whatever,” she said finally, grabbing her towel. “Sometimes I forget that Alicent only still sees me as a kid.”

Jon didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. They didn’t talk about this stuff—not really. But he knew what she meant. Alpha to alpha.

Rhaenyra tossed the towel over her shoulder, still not meeting his eye. “Last night was just a good reminder. I need to move the fuck on.”

She stepped back up to the bar, rolled her shoulders, and set her stance like she needed to lift something even heavier. Like she could. Like maybe if she did, it would stop hurting.

Jon wiped sweat from his brow, watching as Rhaenyra deadlifted like she was trying to throw the earth off its axis.

“You’re gonna tear something,” he said casually, grabbing his water.

Rhaenyra dropped the bar with a loud clang. “I’m fine.”

Jon raised a brow. “You’re fine in that way that means you’re definitely not fine.”

She rolled her eyes, grabbing her towel. “It’s not a big deal.”

He didn’t press, just waited. That was the thing about Jon—he didn’t push, just left enough space for you to fill if you wanted to.

“I mean…” Rhaenyra sighed, finally relenting. “I know she doesn’t see me that way. She never has. She rejected me, what—two years ago? That was clear. I’m not mad. I just…” Her voice trailed off as she leaned against the squat rack. “Whatever ignore me. She did nothing wrong. I know that.”

“You’re right, she didn’t,” Jon agreed. “But…I get it.”

She glanced at him, guarded.

“I mean,” he said, shrugging, “if I had feelings for an older omega—someone who still saw me like a kid? Treated me like one?” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be able to handle that either. It’s hard. Being an alpha—especially a young one—and feeling like someone doesn’t recognize what you are.”

Rhaenyra scoffed. “I never cared about that stuff. Titles. Alpha, beta. Whatever.”

He gave her a knowing look. “Maybe not. But your body does. Doesn’t matter how cool you are about it—there’s still a part of you that wants to be recognized for what you are.”

Rhaenyra didn’t respond, just looked off toward the garage door, her breath steadying. The ache in her muscles made more sense than the ache in her chest.

///

There was something quiet but unmistakable between them, a low thrum beneath the calm. Neither of them had said anything about the night before—about Missandei, about the glances, about the way Rhaenyra had retreated to her room without a word while Alicent disappeared until morning. But it hung there, just under the surface. Not hostility. Not even discomfort. Just… tension. The kind they were both too practiced, too polite, too scared to name. So they did what they were best at—slipped back into something familiar and easy, like muscle memory.

The ski lift creaked softly beneath them, rising over the snowy slope below. Rhaenyra adjusted her gloves, breath visible in the cold air. Alicent sat beside her, bundled in white and pale blue, goggles pushed up onto her forehead, cheeks flushed from the wind.

“It’s so quiet here,” Rhaenyra said, eyes scanning the distant treeline. “Princeton, I mean. I like it. The campus is beautiful. But sometimes I wish I’d gone somewhere… louder.”

Alicent smiled, turning slightly toward her. “You mean like a city school?”

“Exactly. Somewhere with more noise. More people. More places to go at night that aren’t just another coffee shop with a sad open mic.”

Alicent laughed under her breath. “You know, New York’s just a train ride away.”

Rhaenyra looked over. “Yeah, I guess. I haven’t really gone much yet.”

“You should,” Alicent said, nudging her boot gently against Rhaenyra’s. “You could even do some research there. There’s better access to hospitals, labs, all kinds of stuff.”

Rhaenyra looked thoughtful. “Maybe.”

“If you do,” Alicent added, “you should reach out to Margaery. She’s still in the city, I think. Probably knows everyone by now.”

Rhaenyra smiled at that. “You think she’d want to hang out with a nerdy pre-med sophomore?”

“She’d love it,” Alicent said, her voice warm. “You’re family.”

Rhaenyra looked out at the snowy expanse again, a faint smile tugging at her lips. The cold wind bit at her cheeks, but she didn’t mind it so much.

///

Alicent stood in front of the mirror in the upstairs hall, slipping the second earring into place. The dress she wore was simple but elegant—dark green, fitted at the waist, something she’d impulsively grabbed from her closet after Missandei’s text. Her hair was pinned just so, makeup subtle and polished. She barely recognized herself. Purse in hand, she gave her reflection a final glance and smoothed her skirt down, exhaling.

She was halfway down the stairs when the front door opened.

“Shit,” she muttered under her breath, freezing mid-step.

Voices filled the entryway—Jon laughing, Dany loudly complaining about the wind, and Rhaenyra’s quieter murmur underneath it all. The three of them tumbled inside, the smell of cold and fast food clinging to their jackets, the buzz of the evening still lingering around them.

Alicent descended the rest of the stairs slowly, pretending to adjust the strap of her bag as they turned to look up at her.

“Whoa,” Dany said, one eyebrow raised. “You’re fancy. Where are you going?”

Alicent hesitated for half a second. “Just dinner. Missandei invited me out.”

Jon let out a low whistle. Dany smirked, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Didn’t know you two were… reconnecting.”

“We’re just catching up.” Alicent’s voice was crisp, too casual.

She looked at Rhaenyra then—couldn’t help it. She stood slightly behind the others, her face unreadable, the tension pulled tight in her shoulders. Her eyes flicked over Alicent’s dress for half a second before dropping back to the floor. She said nothing.

The silence stretched too long.

“I won’t be late,” Alicent added, more to fill the space than anything else. Her voice sounded thinner now, like she was hearing it from a distance.

“Have fun,” Dany said finally, dragging the tension back into motion with a dramatic little wave of her hand. “Use protection!”

Alicent rolled her eyes at her sister before her eyes lingered on Rhaenyra for a beat too long before she turned and slipped out the door.

///

Alicent lay back against Missandei’s pillow, her arm folded beneath her head, the sheets tangled loosely at her waist. Her skin was still warm from the sex, her breath slowly evening out. Missandei shifted beside her, propped on one elbow, a slow, easy grin curving her mouth.

“I’m very much enjoying this, by the way,” she said lightly, fingertips dragging idle shapes along the inside of Alicent’s thigh. “But I did want to ask you something.”

Alicent turned her head, eyes narrowing slightly, wary. “About?”

Missandei tilted her head, expression thoughtful but unbothered. “Where your head’s at. I mean… we have history. And I don’t want to assume anything.”

“Oh right,” Alicent said quickly. Then, softer, “I mean… I’m not looking for anything serious. I’m sorry if it came off that way.”

Missandei smiled, unbothered. “No, no—God, that’s fine. I live on the other side of the country. I figured this was just a winter ski house thing.”

A beat passed. The room was quiet except for the sound of wind outside and the soft creak of the bed as Missandei adjusted, curling slightly toward her.

“Still,” she added, voice lower now, teasing but careful, “since we’ve already established this is no-strings, I am a little curious.”

Alicent blinked. “About what?”

Missandei raised a brow, brushing a strand of hair from Alicent’s cheek. “About who’s on your mind.”

“What?” Alicent let out a nervous laugh.

“Don’t play dumb. There were a couple moments where… I don’t know. You just weren’t all the way here.” Her voice wasn’t accusatory, just curious. Familiar. “I could feel it.”

Alicent’s breath caught in her throat. She looked away, toward the ceiling.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Missandei said gently, settling back into the pillows. “Just—if you want to. We started out as friends. And I can keep a secret.”

Missandei had gone quiet beside her, the kind of quiet that wasn’t heavy or uncomfortable—just open. Like she was holding space for something Alicent wasn’t used to offering. The room was still, sheets warm from the lingering heat of their bodies, and Alicent stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused, her mind racing.

Maybe it was the intimacy. Or the fact that she knew Missandei would never push too far, never judge her. Or maybe she was just tired of holding it in—of pretending she didn’t feel something when clearly, she did.

“I do… think about someone,” she said suddenly, voice low, unsure. “A lot more than I should.”

Missandei didn’t react right away, just blinked slowly. “Okay. So… who is she?”

Alicent laughed once—flat, dry. “She’s younger.”

“How much younger?”

Alicent winced. “Almost ten years.”

Missandei’s eyes widened. “Jesus.”

“Yeah, I know.” Alicent scrubbed her hands over her face, exhaling sharply. “God, stop. I already feel like a total creep.”

Missandei softened, her voice calm but honest. “It’s… definitely an age gap, yeah. But you’re not some predator, Alicent. You’re the kindest person I’ve ever met. You’d never take advantage of someone.”

Alicent didn’t answer for a moment. She just stared at the ceiling again, the guilt and confusion crawling higher up her spine.

“I’m not… I’m not even seeing her,” she said finally. “It’s not like that. I just—can’t get her out of my head. And I’ve never admitted that out loud. Not to anyone. Not even to myself, really.”

Missandei studied her, expression unreadable. “So why now?”

Alicent shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe because I’m lying in bed with someone who knows me better than anyone else. Or maybe because I’m scared I’m never going to get over it if I don’t say it out loud.”

There was a pause.

And then Missandei, softer now: “Do you want it to go away?”

Alicent’s throat tightened. She didn’t answer. Didn’t know how to. She didn’t even even know where to start.

///

The next few days blurred into a quiet rhythm. She saw Missandei more than she planned to—at first, just for dinner or a drink, and then longer stretches of time. It wasn’t always physical, sometimes not even close. They sat on the couch in front of the fireplace talking for hours, something easy and nostalgic in the way they fit back into each other’s orbit.

But it wasn’t the same as it had been when they were young. That youthful, blinding kind of love—reckless and all-consuming—wasn’t there. It was something else now. Gentler. Safer. And maybe that’s why Alicent let herself talk.

Really talk.

About everything she hadn’t let herself say aloud. About how confused she was. About how much space someone had taken up in her head, even though she’d tried so hard not to let her. About the lines she swore she wouldn’t cross and the guilt she couldn’t shake for even thinking about it.

Missandei listened. Never judged. Asked questions when Alicent wanted them and stayed quiet when she didn’t. There were moments Alicent looked at her and felt deeply grateful—grateful that someone knew her so well, could see her this clearly, even when she felt like she was spiraling.

But she also felt exposed.

Because for all the ease between them, there was still one person she couldn’t stop watching. One person she hadn’t spoken more than a few words to in days.

Meanwhile, Rhaenyra threw herself into the weights like they owed her something.

The garage smelled like rubber mats, old iron, and a hint of pine from the trees just outside the cracked window. Rhaenyra barely noticed. She was too focused on the burn in her shoulders, the sting in her palms, the steady rhythm of her breath between each rep.

Alicent had been gone. Not physically—she still stayed in the house, still made coffee in the mornings, still clicked her laptop open in the living room—but emotionally, she was somewhere else.

With her ex. Obviously.

Rhaenyra wasn’t dumb. She saw the way Alicent came back flushed, distracted, her phone lighting up with messages she never shared. And it wasn’t like Rhaenyra had any right to say anything. She didn’t. She’d made her peace with that months ago. But still… it stung.

So she worked out. Harder. Longer. Until her muscles screamed and her chest burned.

“You’re gonna rip your own arms off,” Jon said from the corner of the garage, wiping sweat off his brow. “You good?”

Rhaenyra didn’t answer right away. Just let the weight drop with a satisfying clang. “Yeah. Just need to keep my head clear.”

Jon didn’t push. He just handed her water, and she took it in silence.

She wasn’t mad at Alicent. She couldn’t be. She’d drawn her own lines years ago, and Alicent had never crossed them. But something about seeing her laugh at something Missandei said from across the room made her feel… young again. Young and stupid and so, so forgettable.

And that, more than anything, made her want to stay in this garage forever.

///

Steam curled up from the surface of the hot tub, catching in the glow of the patio lights and softening the night around Alicent as she leaned back, chin tilted toward the sky. The rest of the house was quiet—most of the family either packing or already asleep. It was their last night before the city, the noise, the distractions returned.

A door creaked open behind her.

She didn’t move.

But then a voice—hesitant, low—broke the silence. “Oh—sorry. I didn’t know you were out here.”

Alicent blinked, looking toward the sliding door.

Rhaenyra stood there in a black sports bra and shorts, a towel slung over one shoulder, her hair damp and curling at the ends from the shower. Her skin was still flushed from her workout, and she looked like she was already halfway to turning back.

“Don’t be stupid,” Alicent said, voice casual, maybe too casual. She gestured to the open space beside her. “Come in.”

Rhaenyra hesitated, but then nodded, stepping forward and easing into the water with a quiet sigh. “God,” she muttered, “I needed this. My quads feel like they’re going to split open.”

Alicent smirked faintly. “You’ve been training like you’re going to war.”

“Kind of feels like it sometimes,” Rhaenyra said, eyes slipping shut as she sank deeper into the heat.

They fell into a lull, the only sounds the gentle ripple of water and the distant rustle of wind through the trees.

It was… nice. Surprisingly so.

No tension. Or—less, anyway. They weren’t talking about Missandei. They weren’t tiptoeing around anything. Just sitting, floating on the edge of warmth and comfort, shoulders brushing occasionally under the water.

“You excited to go back to work?” Rhaenyra asked eventually.

Alicent sighed. “Excited is a strong word. But it’ll be good to be busy again.”

Rhaenyra hummed. “You’re always busy.”

“Better than being bored.”

Their eyes met. For a second, the water between them stilled.

A drop of condensation slid down Alicent’s cheek, catching in the corner of her mouth. A strand of hair had plastered itself to her jaw, curled and glistening from the heat.

Without thinking, Rhaenyra leaned in and gently brushed it back, tucking it behind Alicent’s ear.

Alicent stilled.

So did Rhaenyra.

Their faces were inches apart now—close enough that Alicent could see the tiny scar at the bridge of Rhaenyra’s nose, the one she’d gotten from falling off her bike when she was twelve. Close enough that Rhaenyra could see the rapid flicker of Alicent’s pulse in her throat.

Rhaenyra blinked and quickly leaned back, clearing her throat. “Sorry. Your hair was… sticking.”

Alicent exhaled softly, her voice just above a whisper. “No—it’s fine.” She clears her throat and changes the subject to literally anything else. “You’re leaving early tomorrow?”

Rhaenyra nodded. “Yeah. Early flight. Dany already packed.”

Alicent looked over, the corners of her mouth tugging faintly. “I’m gonna miss you.”

Rhaenyra blinked, surprised by the softness of it. She smiled, small and real. “I’m gonna miss you too.”

They sat in silence for a beat, the warm water lapping gently around them, the sky above a velvet smear of stars. Then Rhaenyra exhaled through her nose, her voice a little too light when she said, “Next time I see you, I’ll be twenty.”

Alicent turned her head, something unreadable flickering in her expression. “God. Don’t say that. That sounds… grown.”

Rhaenyra smirked. “It is grown.”

Alicent laughed under her breath and looked away, biting the inside of her cheek. “Well. I’ll see you then.”

Rhaenyra nodded again, but it was slower this time. “Yeah. I hope so.”

I mean, it was only a few months. How much could change in a few months?

The answer is a lot.

A lot could change.