Chapter 4
By the time Sunday rolled around, it had become their unspoken routine.
Somehow, without either of them actually saying it out loud, Rhaenyra and Alicent had spent every single day together since the riding lesson. It was never planned. Never formal. Rhaenyra would text her something dumb like “Do rich girls know how to eat street food or do you need a butler to unwrap it for you?”As if she wasn't ten times richer than her. Or she would text “I’m bored. Come be uptight near me.” And Alicent—despite herself—would always come.
She’d roll her eyes at the messages, pretend to be irritated, maybe even take a few minutes before replying… but she always showed up. And when she didn’t, Rhaenyra found a way to bump into her. Whether it was “accidentally” catching her outside the library with a cup of coffee already in hand or appearing outside building saying “Oh look, a wild Hightower. What a rare sight in these parts.”
It was maddening. Predictable. Infuriating.
And comforting.
There was something about Rhaenyra—her confidence, her inability to take things too seriously, the way she always seemed to say exactly what she meant—that made it hard for Alicent to stay guarded. She didn’t let herself analyze it too closely. She couldn’t.
Because when she did, it came with a sick wave of guilt.
She still hadn’t heard from Frida. Not one word.
Alicent had sent maybe a dozen follow-up texts—carefully spaced out so they didn’t seem desperate, though they definitely were. Apologies. Explanations. Offers to talk. All of them left on read. Every time she passed Frida in the hallways, she would either pretend not to notice her or subtly change directions.
And then there was Criston.
He wasn’t stupid. He’d already begun piecing things together. On Friday, he’d seen her outside the building, waiting for Rhaenyra to finish class. He didn’t say anything at the time—just gave her a long, knowing look before walking off.
But that afternoon, she got a text:
"So… you and the Targeryen girl, huh?"
No emojis. No jokes. Just that.
She left it unanswered. What could she even say?
Alicent didn’t know how to explain it to him. Or anyone. She wasn’t even sure she could explain it to herself. Why she kept showing up. Why she felt so flustered when Rhaenyra laughed. Why she noticed when Rhaenyra stood a little too close or looked at her a little too long.
It was easier during their little outings—when it was just the two of them in Rhaenyra’s Porsche, or sitting at the edge of the quad, or watching the horses from the fence at Alicent’s family barn again. Then, she could forget for a moment how complicated it all was. They talked about everything and nothing. Rhaenyra would mock her obsession with structured schedules and color-coded binders. Alicent would snap back about Rhaenyra's complete disregard for deadlines or anything remotely resembling rules. Somehow it worked.
But the moment they were back on campus, Alicent turned into a ghost.
She wouldn’t look at Rhaenyra in the halls. Wouldn’t sit near her in shared lectures. When someone else was around, she’d shrink, avoid, deflect. Because being seen with Rhaenyra—especially being seen with an omega Rhaenyra—was another story entirely. It wasn’t just that Criston liked her. It was the whispers. The looks. The loaded assumptions that came with proximity.
And Alicent knew how fast people talked.
So, she kept their days sacred and their public lives separate.
But Rhaenyra noticed. Of course she did.
On Friday, as they sat beneath a tree near the stables, sipping iced tea and watching the horses graze in the fading sun, Rhaenyra had looked over and asked casually, “So... am I your dirty little secret, Hightower?”
Alicent had nearly choked on her drink. “What?”
“You heard me.” Rhaenyra smirked but her tone was light, like it was all a joke. “I vanish into thin air as soon as your other friends show up. Very mysterious.”
Alicent had muttered something weak—an excuse about keeping a low profile, about not needing rumors—and Rhaenyra didn’t push it.
But Rhaenyra had gone quiet for a little longer than usual that evening.
Still, the next day, she showed up again. Just like always.
And Alicent came running. Just like always.
She didn’t know what they were. Didn’t know if it was flirting or teasing or something heavier lingering between the lines. All she knew was that it had only been a week—and already, the thought of not seeing Rhaenyra tomorrow felt strange.
Too strange.
Alicent sat by her bedroom window, dressed in an elegant but understated dark green dress, watching the light fade across the estate lawn as she nervously refreshed her phone. Her family’s annual spring gathering was already in full swing—soft music drifted in from downstairs, mingling with clinking glasses and low laughter. It wasn’t a huge event, by Hightower standards, but enough to remind her she was a Hightower: polished, poised, perfect.
And Rhaenyra was coming.
She stared at the last message she’d sent:
“Hey. When are you planning to come over?”
No reply yet. Just the single gray check mark mocking her.
She exhaled, tapping the edge of her phone against her knee when suddenly—
Typing…
Then the reply came in:
“I was under the impression I’d be picked up. Chivalry and all.”
Alicent blinked. Then typed back quickly.
“You seriously want me to pick you up?”
“Isn’t that what friends do? Especially the ones with private drivers and cars that smell like vanilla capitalism?”
Alicent scowled, but she was smiling too. She fired back:
“Rhaenyra. I have twenty guests downstairs, a caterer breathing down my neck, and my father asking when you’ll arrive.”
“So… you really need me there then? ”
“Rhaenyra.”
“Just say you want to see me and I’ll make my way to the curb.”
Alicent hesitated. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
Then she rolled her eyes, cheeks warming.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
The response was instantaneous.
“Knew you couldn’t resist.”
Ten minutes later, the Hightower limousine—a sleek black car that looked comically too long for the narrow estate roads—glided up the winding driveway of the Targaryen residence. The gates had already opened as if expecting them, and Alicent tried not to fidget as they passed through the towering iron arch.
It wasn’t an apartment. Not even close.
The mansion came into view like something out of a film—modern meets old money, with sweeping terraces, sharp marble lines, and dragons subtly sculpted into the railings. Spotless white stone shimmered faintly under the early evening light, and vines wrapped tastefully around the outer pillars like nature had been curated just to look dramatic.
The limo came to a smooth stop in the circular drive. Giles, her driver, looked back at her. “Miss Targaryen will come out?”
Alicent nodded, trying to appear calm even as her heart beat faster for no reason she wanted to admit.
The massive double doors opened moments later, and out walked Rhaenyra.
She didn’t stroll. She didn’t rush. She descended, like she owned every square inch of marble she stepped on—and maybe she did. Her black satin blazer dress contrasted effortlessly with the silver of her hair, and she wore it all with the kind of ease that only came from generations of wealth and zero regard for approval.
She didn’t even look surprised at the sight of the limo. Just amused.
The driver opened the door for her and she leaned in slightly, one brow arched, voice laced with sarcasm. “A limo? What, no red carpet?”
Alicent, already seated and trying not to act like she’d practiced a calm face in the mirror, said flatly, “You insisted I pick you up.”
Rhaenyra slid inside, unbothered, her perfume catching the air between them—something smoky and expensive and undeniably her. “I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
Alicent gave her a look. “You literally texted, ‘I’ll be waiting at the top of my marble stairs.’”
“And you came,” Rhaenyra said smugly, settling into the seat beside her. “Sweet.”
Alicent rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched upward. “Would you have come at all if I told you to take your own car?”
“Probably. But where’s the fun in that?” Rhaenyra gave her a sideways glance. “Besides, this way, I get to show up on your arm.”
Alicent’s breath caught slightly. “It’s not that kind of gathering.”
“Shame.”
Alicent looked out the window, hiding the color rising in her cheeks as the limo pulled away from the estate, heading back toward hers. Rhaenyra leaned back with that infuriatingly relaxed posture, fingers lazily scrolling through her phone.
The ride to the Hightower estate was cloaked in a sort of quiet that wasn’t awkward—just full. Alicent kept her eyes on the passing streets, but she was hyper-aware of Rhaenyra beside her. Every shift in the seat. Every casual glance. The way she tapped her nails rhythmically against her thigh as if to some silent beat only she could hear.
Alicent stole a look at her, then quickly looked away when Rhaenyra caught it.
“Staring’s bold, Alicent,” Rhaenyra said with a grin.
“I wasn’t,” Alicent replied too quickly.
“You were.”
“I was thinking.”
“About me?”
Alicent opened her mouth. Closed it. “Not everything’s about you.”
Rhaenyra just smirked. “You’re adorable when you lie.”
The limousine rolled smoothly through the stone gates of the Hightower estate, its glossy black exterior reflecting the late afternoon sun. Inside, Alicent was sitting perfectly straight, hands folded over her lap, trying to look calm—and failing miserably. She kept glancing at the clock, then at her phone, then back to the window, where the familiar family grounds slowly unfolded around them.
Rhaenyra, of course, was perfectly at ease beside her. Reclined just slightly, she seemed entirely unbothered by the fact that she was minutes away from a high-stakes social minefield disguised as a party.
“You’re sure you don’t want to wear something less… Rhaenyra?” Alicent asked, only half-joking.
Rhaenyra smirked, unbothered. “What? This is my polite outfit.”
“It’s sheer.”
“Exactly. Polite enough to keep their attention. Sheer enough to keep them nervous.”
Alicent groaned softly, rubbing at her temple. “My mother already asked me three times this morning if you’re ‘as bold in person as the papers make you out to be.’”
“Oh, she’s in for a treat,” Rhaenyra said, adjusting her sunglasses with a wink.
They turned the last bend toward the mansion, passing rows of parked luxury vehicles. Everything was just as Alicent expected: a sweeping lawn trimmed to perfection, a string quartet already playing beneath the arch of white roses, guests mingling near the champagne station. Her family’s events were always like this—grand, excessive, suffocating.
Still, this time… she didn’t feel entirely alone.
“I still don’t get why you didn’t just have your own driver bring you,” Alicent said, suddenly remembering their earlier argument.
Rhaenyra gave her a sideways look. “Because I wanted to make you pick me up. It was cute, the way you argued about it for ten texts.”
Alicent blushed faintly, looking away. “You’re exhausting.”
“I’m charming.”
The car slowed to a gentle stop in front of the entrance. The door was opened for them, and Alicent stepped out first, schooling her face into the calm, practiced expression expected of her.
Rhaenyra followed, stepping out with her usual confident air. And even though her presence wasn’t a surprise, heads still turned.
People noticed her.
And they noticed Alicent standing beside her.
Which, of course, had been the plan from the start—at least the pretend plan.
Rhaenyra leaned toward her, her breath brushing Alicent’s ear. “Smile. We’re business partners, remember?”
Alicent glanced at her, lips twitching. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Ridiculously convincing.”
They started up the steps, side by side.
As they entered the grand foyer, one of the staff discreetly offered to take Rhaenyra’s wrap and escort them into the garden. Alicent’s mother was waiting near the doorway with her usual serene-yet-watchful expression, already making her way toward them.
“Well,” Rhaenyra whispered, smoothing down her top and fixing a strand of Alicent’s hair before she could protest, “time to charm the Hightowers.”
Alicent didn’t even try to stop the blush that crept up her neck.
Rhaenyra stood out immediately—not just because of the sheer silk outfit, but because of the way she moved, entirely unaffected by the buzz of whispered opinions already starting to trail behind them.
“Is that Viserys Targaryen’s daughter?”
“She’s taller than I thought.”
“Did you see that dress? Gods.”
Alicent’s mother, approached with her carefully manicured smile. She kissed Alicent’s cheek and then turned her full attention to Rhaenyra.
“Lady Rhaenyra, it’s so good to finally meet you,” she said with the kind of tone that sounded polite but also like a test.
Rhaenyra offered a dazzling smile and extended her hand. “Please, just Rhaenyra. Thank you for the invitation. Your garden is stunning.”
She blinked, mildly disarmed. “Why, thank you. We do try.”
Alicent stood awkwardly between them, watching the social performance unfold like a chess match. Her mother’s eyes flicked between her and Rhaenyra, clearly assessing every movement.
“And you arrived together,” She noted. “Lovely. I hope the car was comfortable?”
“Oh yes,” Rhaenyra said breezily. “Though next time, I’ll have to return the favor. Alicent’s chariot was very elegant, but a little stiff for my taste.”
Alicent stared straight ahead, willing the ground to open up beneath her. “It was a standard limousine.”
“Mm,” Rhaenyra hummed, clearly enjoying herself. “Stiff.”
Alicnet's mother gave a tight-lipped smile. “Well, enjoy the party. There are several people who’ll want to speak with you.”
Rhaenyra bowed her head slightly. “I look forward to it.”
As soon as her mother drifted away, Alicent turned sharply toward Rhaenyra. “Must you be like this?”
“Like what?” Rhaenyra said innocently.
“You just said you’d return the favor. That implies there’s going to be a next time. You’re going to start rumors.”
“Oh, darling,” Rhaenyra purred, looping her arm through Alicent’s and pulling her toward the rose-covered walkway. “There already are rumors.”
Alicent groaned under her breath but didn’t pull away. In fact, she found herself leaning in slightly, as if Rhaenyra’s presence made all of this a little less awful.
They moved together through the crowd, making polite conversation here and there. Rhaenyra was, maddeningly, good at this. Charming, confident, unflinching even when Lord Beesbury made a half-joke about “alphas who dress like omegas these days.”
Alicent expected a sharp retort, but instead, Rhaenyra smiled sweetly and said, “Fashion is the most personal form of rebellion. You should try it.”
Later, as they found a moment to stand beneath one of the shaded trellises, Rhaenyra plucked a drink from a passing tray and handed it to Alicent.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” she said.
Alicent arched a brow. “Like what?”
“Cornered. Nervous. In your element but somehow out of it.”
Alicent took a sip, avoiding her eyes. “I’m not used to having people like you here.”
“People like me?”
A shrug. “You know what I mean.”
Rhaenyra leaned in, voice low and soft and warm. “Then I guess we’re both a little out of place.”
Their eyes met. For a second, the buzz of conversation faded around them. Alicent felt the heat rise to her cheeks again, and she quickly looked away, sipping her drink too fast.
//
The warm glow of the chandeliers spilled across the marble floor as Alicent led Rhaenyra through the expansive hallways of the Hightower estate, her heels clicking in rhythm. The party had begun to taper off into smaller conversations and empty champagne flutes, the guests filtering toward the dining hall. But Alicent had excused herself and Rhaenyra without much explanation, and now they walked side by side toward her father’s private study.
“You’re sure about this?” Alicent asked quietly, glancing sideways at Rhaenyra, whose expression was unreadable—composed, but intense.
Rhaenyra gave a single nod. “It’s better if it’s handled now. Directly. Before anyone else tries to get involved.”
Alicent pressed her lips into a line, fingers tightening around her phone. She was still getting used to this version of Rhaenyra—the business side of her. Not just the teasing, leather-jacket-wearing chaos agent, but the heiress to the Targaryen industrial empire. When she had mentioned earlier that her father was considering restructuring one of their regional supplier chains, Alicent hadn’t expected her to suddenly say, “I want to talk to your father about you know what.”
And yet, here they were.
They stopped outside the tall wooden door to Otto Hightower’s office. Alicent texted her father a brief message—“Rhaenyra and I are outside. She wants to speak with you. Business.”
The reply came seconds later. “Come in.”
Alicent opened the door slowly.
Alicent stood with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the ornate door that had just shut behind her. She'd been dismissed with a polite but firm “Rhaenyra and I need to speak privately.”
Privately. As if she were a secretary. As if she hadn’t been the one who made this meeting happen in the first place.
Still, she didn’t let her frustration show—not on her face, not in her posture. She was a Hightower. She waited, lips pressed into a line, scrolling absently through her phone, pretending she wasn’t burning to know what was being said behind those closed doors.
Inside, Rhaenyra stood in front of Otto’s desk, composed and razor-sharp in a tailored navy jacket, the same shade as her father's hospital logo. She didn’t sit. She wanted control of the room.
Otto regarded her over the rims of his reading glasses, his fingers steepled under his chin.
“You said your family’s facilities are in need of new technical equipment,” he said slowly. “Yet your father previously expressed interest in negotiating through a German supplier.”
Rhaenyra smiled with a kind of patience that was well-practiced. “That was before we saw your offer. Now we’re reconsidering. The German supplier lacks the flexibility we need for long-term upgrades. Your team’s proposal was more adaptable—and easier to scale.”
Otto didn’t respond right away. He was a man who liked silence, to see how people filled it.
“And what exactly are you asking from us, Miss Targaryen?”
“We want exclusivity,” she said, meeting his gaze without flinching. “Our hospitals are expanding. Fast. We’re about to launch two new wings—one in Highgarden, another in Sunspear. If we go with Hightower Medical, it won’t be a one-time shipment. It’ll be an ongoing partnership.”
Otto’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And in return?”
Rhaenyra paused. Then: “We’ll accept the current proposal as-is—with a few adjustments. We’d expect a ten percent reduction in logistics fees across the board. And first priority on any future next-gen diagnostic tech.”
There it was.
Otto leaned back in his chair, assessing her. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“I was raised by a man who owns twenty-two hospitals and never took a vacation day,” she said dryly.
He chuckled—barely.
Outside, Alicent glanced at the door again. Ten minutes had passed. Her foot tapped once, then stopped when she realized it.
Inside, Otto finally spoke. “We’ll make the cuts. But in return, I’ll want a formal exclusivity clause for five years. And I want your name on the contract. Personally. I don’t do long-term partnerships with shadows.”
Rhaenyra gave a single nod. “Done.”
Otto stood, extending a hand. “Then we have a deal.”
She shook it firmly, with a smirk that was almost smug.
When the door finally opened, Alicent straightened, feigning casual disinterest even though her eyes immediately flicked to Rhaenyra.
“Well?” she asked coolly.
Rhaenyra simply smiled as she passed. “Congratulations, Hightower. Your family just became our official supplier.”
Otto followed close behind, fixing his cuffs. “Alicent, escort Miss Targaryen back downstairs, would you?”
“Of course,” she said, voice clipped.
As they walked down the hallway, Alicent glanced sideways at her. “You could’ve told me the terms.”
“I could’ve,” Rhaenyra said, clearly enjoying herself, “but you’d have tried to negotiate them better.”
“I still might,” Alicent muttered under her breath.
Rhaenyra’s laugh echoed off the marble walls. “Now you’re sounding like me.”
The grand hall shimmered with golden light, the chandeliers casting an opulent glow over the sea of elegantly dressed guests. Laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as business partners and socialites mingled, the sound of a string quartet weaving through the chatter like an expensive afterthought.
Alicent stood near the bar, one hand resting lightly on the polished counter as she swirled the champagne in her glass. She was on her third—maybe fourth—drink, and she wasn’t exactly keeping track. The irritation that had settled in her chest earlier still hadn’t faded, but she didn’t let it show. She didn’t ask why her father had sent her away. Didn’t ask what Rhaenyra had said in that meeting behind closed doors. She simply accepted it, smiled, and carried on like a good Hightower.
Rhaenyra had been watching her. Not outright staring—Rhaenyra wasn’t that obvious—but keeping an eye on her from across the room, lingering near the fireplace with a half-empty glass of whiskey in her hand. It didn’t take much to read Alicent’s mood. She was tense, lips pressed together just a little too tightly between sips, her fingers tapping idly against the stem of her glass.
Then, something else caught Rhaenyra’s attention.
A blond omega. Well-dressed, poised, exuding the kind of easy arrogance that came with old money and a last name that opened doors. A Lannister, without a doubt.
He made his way over to Alicent with practiced ease, leaning in just slightly as he spoke. Alicent turned toward him, her expression slipping into something polite, something charming—something carefully controlled. She laughed at something he said, tilting her head just enough to signal interest without committing to it.
Rhaenyra’s grip on her glass tightened.
It was ridiculous, really. She had no reason to care. And yet, there was something about the way Alicent entertained his presence that made her jaw clench. Rhaenyra had spent nearly every day of the past week with her. She had seen the way Alicent avoided people she didn’t care for. This—this wasn’t avoidance. This was letting someone linger.
Rhaenyra took a step forward.
She wasn’t going to interrupt. No, that would be too obvious. Too telling. But she made sure her presence was known, positioning herself just within their line of sight, her expression unreadable.
The Lannister noticed first. He cast a quick glance toward her before returning his attention to Alicent. “Your friend seems… intense.”
Alicent, still holding her glass, smirked slightly. “You have no idea.”
Rhaenyra’s eyes didn’t leave her.
The omega hesitated, as if sensing something unspoken in the air. He shifted his weight, offered one last lingering smile to Alicent, and then—with a small, knowing nod—excused himself.
Alicent watched him go before turning her gaze to Rhaenyra. Her expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes—something teasing, something challenging.
“Happy now?”
Rhaenyra lifted her drink in a lazy toast. “Not particularly.” She took a slow sip before adding, “But at least I don’t have to watch you pretend to enjoy being flirted with by a glorified golden retriever.”
Alicent exhaled a short laugh, shaking her head. “That’s what that was?”
“I’ve seen more personality in my reflection.”
Alicent hummed, amusement flickering across her face. Then, leaning against the bar, she fixed Rhaenyra with a pointed look. “Are you jealous?”
Rhaenyra smirked. “I don’t get jealous.”
Alicent tilted her head slightly, eyes gleaming. “Of course not.”
They stood there for a moment, neither breaking the gaze, the sounds of the party fading into background noise.
Then Rhaenyra leaned in, voice low, close enough that only Alicent could hear.
“If you wanted my attention, you could’ve just asked.”
Alicent let out a breathy scoff, shaking her head as if the very idea was absurd. “Please,” she said, voice laced with disbelief. “We’re pretend friends, Rhaenyra. Nothing more.”
Rhaenyra’s smirk faltered for just a second before she tilted her head, her expression shifting into something unreadable. “Pretend?” she echoed, her voice smooth but laced with something sharper beneath.
Alicent nodded, downing the rest of her drink before setting the empty glass on the bar with a little too much force. “Yes. You said it yourself. We’re just playing nice for business, remember?” She gestured vaguely. “And besides, you’re the one who keeps finding excuses to be around me. Not the other way around.”
Rhaenyra chuckled, but there was no real humor in it. “Right. Because you’ve been avoiding me so well.”
Alicent crossed her arms, not quite meeting Rhaenyra’s gaze. “I have other things to focus on.”
Rhaenyra took a slow step closer, her presence suddenly impossible to ignore. “Oh, I’m sure. Apologizing to Frida. Dodging Criston. Entertaining blonde little lapdogs from Lannisport…” Her voice dropped slightly, eyes gleaming with something dangerous. “You’ve been very busy, haven’t you?”
Alicent bristled. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Rhaenyra smirked again, but it was different now—tighter, less playful. “Of course not.” She leaned in just slightly, her breath warm against Alicent’s ear as she murmured, “But you could at least try to lie better, Hightower.”
Alicent swallowed, forcing herself to stay still. “You’re drunk.”
Rhaenyra pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, amusement flickering in her eyes. “So are you.”
Alicent clenched her jaw. “This isn’t real.”
Rhaenyra studied her for a moment, then let out a soft hum. “If you say so.”
Something in her tone—something knowing, something quietly victorious—sent a fresh wave of frustration through Alicent.
So she did what she always did when cornered. She straightened her shoulders, smoothed out the edges of her expression, and steeled herself with cool, practiced detachment.
“I do.”
Rhaenyra stared at her, eyes dark and gleaming, lips curling into something just shy of a smirk. But there was something else beneath it, something sharper—something dangerous.
“You do?” she murmured, voice velvet and heat, like she was already peeling Alicent apart just by looking at her.
Alicent swallowed hard, holding her ground even as her fingers curled against her glass. “Yes.”
Rhaenyra took a slow, deliberate step forward, her gaze never leaving Alicent’s. “So you’re not thinking about me when I’m not around?” she asked, voice teasing but demanding, like she already knew the answer. “Not wondering where I am, what I’m doing?”
Alicent’s jaw tightened. “No.”
Rhaenyra’s smirk deepened, as if entertained by the very idea. “Not watching me right now? Pretending not to care that I caught you?”
Alicent’s breath hitched, so faint, but Rhaenyra saw it, because of course she did.
She leaned in, a slow, deliberate movement, close enough that Alicent could smell the faint trace of wine on her breath, the perfume on her skin. Close enough that when she spoke, Alicent could feel the words graze the shell of her ear.
“You’re not imagining what it would be like?” Rhaenyra murmured, her voice lower now, more intimate. “To have me?”
Alicent’s fingers clenched into fists at her sides. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I?” Rhaenyra exhaled a soft laugh, like she was enjoying this too much. And then she reached out—just barely—her fingertips grazing along Alicent’s wrist, featherlight but burning. “Tell me something, Alicent,” she whispered, the way her name rolled off her tongue feeling entirely too dangerous. “If I told you to take me upstairs right now—if I let you fuck me—you’d say no?”
Alicent sucked in a breath, her mind going utterly blank.
Her skin felt hot, her heart thundering against her ribs, and Rhaenyra was standing so damn close, like a storm closing in, like she knew exactly what she was doing.
Alicent felt her entire body coil tight, her pulse betraying her, the heat pooling low in her stomach making it impossible to think.
And Rhaenyra knew.
She knew.
Alicent turned sharply, their faces nearly brushing, their breaths mingling in the small space between them.
“Yes,” she forced out, the word shaky, fragile.
Rhaenyra stilled.
Her eyes flickered over Alicent’s face, searching, reading, dissecting. Then, so softly it was almost cruel, she smiled.
“Liar.”
Alicent didn’t move, didn’t breathe, because she couldn’t—because she was certain if she did, something would snap, something she wasn’t ready to name.
And Rhaenyra?
Rhaenyra just stepped back, slow and deliberate, like she hadn’t just unraveled Alicent completely. Like she hadn’t just won.
Rhaenyra turned, the smirk still ghosting her lips, triumphant and infuriating. She had said her piece, had left Alicent simmering, unraveling, and now she was walking away, like she hadn’t just lit a fire inside her.
But then—
Alicent grabbed her.
Her fingers curled around Rhaenyra’s arm, tight and desperate, her nails digging in just enough to make her pause. Rhaenyra stilled, blinking as she turned back, the amusement flickering in her eyes replaced with something unreadable.
“How many?” Alicent asked, her voice rough, unsteady.
Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed. “What?”
Alicent stepped closer, her grip still firm. “How many people have you said this to?” she demanded, her drunken haze stripping away any restraint, any careful barriers she might have otherwise kept in place. “How many alphas have you played this game with?”
Rhaenyra stared at her, taken aback for the first time that night. “Alicent—”
“How many of them have fallen for this?” Alicent cut her off, her voice rising, bitter and biting. “How many have you led around by the throat just to entertain yourself? To prove that you can?”
Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes, tilting her head slightly, her expression hardening. “Is that what you think?”
Alicent let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, don’t play dumb. I’ve seen the way they look at you. The way you look at them.” She let out a breath, ragged, eyes burning with something she couldn’t name. “How many of them have you fucked?”
Something in Rhaenyra’s face shifted—so fast, so sharp, that Alicent nearly missed it. But she saw it.
The flicker of something vulnerable. Something raw.
And then—
Rhaenyra ripped her arm from Alicent’s grasp.
“None,” she said, voice like steel.
“How many?” she demanded again, her voice a sharp whisper, her eyes searching Rhaenyra’s face.
Rhaenyra’s gaze flickered, something unreadable crossing her features before she schooled it back into cold amusement. “You’re drunk,” she said simply, trying to pull away.
Alicent didn’t let go.
“No, no, you don’t get to walk away from this,” Alicent hissed, her fingers once again digging into Rhaenyra’s skin. “You don’t get to throw shit like that at me and then act like it was nothing.”
Rhaenyra’s lips curled into something infuriatingly smug. “Oh? And what exactly did I throw at you, Alicent? The truth?”
Alicent let out a sharp laugh, bitter and cutting. “The truth? Please.” Her nails bit in harder, and Rhaenyra’s smirk faltered just slightly. “How many, Rhaenyra? How many alphas have you played with? How many have you fucked just to prove you could?”
Rhaenyra’s expression darkened. Her body tensed. And then, in one swift movement, she wrenched her arm free, stepping into Alicent’s space, crowding her, forcing her to meet her gaze.
“None,” she spat, her voice like steel, her eyes burning with something furious.
Alicent blinked, momentarily stunned, but she recovered quickly, shaking her head, scoffing. “Oh, right, like I’d believe that.”
Rhaenyra tilted her head, a slow smirk forming, but this time, it wasn’t playful. It was sharp. Cutting. “You think I’m lying?”
Alicent swallowed hard but didn’t back down. “I think you like watching alphas crawl for you. I think you get off on it.”
Rhaenyra’s smirk faded.
For a second, just a second, something flickered in her gaze—something raw, something vulnerable.
Then, before Alicent could register it, Rhaenyra surged forward, grabbing Alicent’s wrist this time, reversing their positions, pinning her against the nearest wall.
Alicent gasped, barely processing the shift before Rhaenyra was in her space, her face just inches away, her grip tight, unyielding.
“You think I get off on it?” Rhaenyra said, her voice low, dangerous. She leaned in closer, her breath ghosting over Alicent’s lips. “You’re the one who can’t stop thinking about me.”
Alicent opened her mouth to protest, to snap something back, but Rhaenyra didn’t let her.
“If I let you fuck me,” Rhaenyra continued, her voice a whisper now, thick with something Alicent couldn’t name, “would you still pretend this is all an act?”
Alicent’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
Rhaenyra smirked.
“That’s what I thought.”
She let go of Alicent’s wrist abruptly, stepping back, turning away—but this time, Alicent wasn’t done.
She grabbed her again, this time by the shoulder, yanking her back, her grip tight. “How many times have you said those exact words?” she snapped, her voice shaking now, thick with something she couldn’t control. “How many alphas have you pulled this game with?”
Rhaenyra’s smirk was gone now, her jaw tight, her eyes sharp and unreadable.
“How many of them have you fucked, Rhaenyra?”
Silence.
Alicent was breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her nails still biting into Rhaenyra’s shoulder, her own emotions barely held together.
Then—
“None,” Rhaenyra said again, but this time, it was different. It wasn’t just anger. It wasn’t just frustration.
It was the truth.
Alicent froze.
Rhaenyra leaned in, so close their noses almost brushed. “And yet, you still can’t stop thinking about it.”
Alicent felt her pulse roaring in her ears, her body locked in place, her throat dry.
Rhaenyra exhaled, shaking her head slightly, her expression shifting—something softer, something Alicent couldn’t handle right now.
Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Alicent standing there, breathless, burning, and completely wrecked.
//
The night wore on in a blur of high society, the laughter and chatter of the guests blending into an indistinct hum in the background. Alicent found herself nursing another glass of wine, the sharp burn of the alcohol doing little to dull the confusion swirling in her mind. She had spent the evening trying to ignore Rhaenyra’s piercing gaze, the way she seemed to always be watching her, waiting for something that Alicent couldn’t quite understand. The tension between them had only grown, like a thread pulled taut, ready to snap at the slightest touch.
As the party began to wind down, Alicent excused herself from the small group she had been speaking with. She could feel the weight of Rhaenyra’s gaze on her back, and it unsettled her. The words they had exchanged earlier, the heated confrontation—it all kept replaying in her mind, like a loop she couldn’t escape.
Rhaenyra was already heading toward the exit when Alicent spotted her, her figure cutting through the crowd with ease. She had always moved with that kind of confidence, a grace that demanded attention even when she wasn’t trying. Alicent felt a pang in her chest as she watched her, something that was equal parts admiration and frustration. She had been pushing Rhaenyra away for days now, but the truth was, it wasn’t working.
Rhaenyra was impossible to ignore, impossible to push aside. And for some reason, that terrified her.
The limousine was parked outside, waiting to take Rhaenyra back to her mansion. She was about to step inside when Alicent, fueled by a mixture of alcohol and something much deeper, rushed forward, catching up to her just as she was about to close the door. Without thinking, Alicent slid into the back seat behind her.
The door of the limousine slammed shut with finality as Alicent slid in beside Rhaenyra, her heels clicking against the floor. She reached up, hitting the switch to raise the privacy partition between them and the driver before turning her eyes toward the woman already seated—already glaring.
Rhaenyra barely shifted in her seat, but her voice was sharp as glass. “What the fuck do you want now, Alicent?”
Alicent stared back, unblinking. Her voice was clipped, tight. “I want to talk.”
“Oh, now you want to talk? After spending the whole evening avoiding me, glaring like I’ve kicked your stupid puppy?” Rhaenyra laughed dryly, leaning back into the leather seat. “You really have some fucking nerve.”
“I avoided you,” Alicent snapped, “because you made it impossible to think straight.”
“God, you’re unbelievable,” Rhaenyra spat. “You spend all week playing pretend, hanging out with me like it’s some game. And the second I call you out on it, you act like I’m the one being unreasonable.”
Alicent’s jaw clenched. “You think you know everything, don’t you? That I’m just another spoiled little rich girl who doesn’t know what she wants.”
Rhaenyra smirked coldly. “No. I think you do know what you want. You’re just too much of a coward to say it out loud.”
“Fuck you,” Alicent hissed, leaning in, eyes narrowed. “Is this what you do to everyone? How many of them have you kissed just to prove you were wanted?”
Rhaenyra blinked, something flickering behind her eyes, but she held her ground. “None. But you wouldn’t believe me if I said that, would you?”
Alicent laughed bitterly. “No, I wouldn’t.”
A beat passed. Then Rhaenyra leaned closer, slowly, voice soft but heavy with disdain. “You think you’re in control, Hightower? You think being the one who gets to walk away from me makes you powerful?”
Alicent didn’t flinch. She watched Rhaenyra’s lips move, her words curling like smoke around her. Then, without another second of hesitation, she grabbed Rhaenyra by the jaw, fingers curling tight but not cruel.
“You talk too fucking much,” Alicent growled—and then she kissed her.
It wasn’t soft.
It wasn’t careful.
It was a collision, heat and frustration pouring out through clenched teeth and pressed mouths. Rhaenyra gasped into her, hands coming up in instinct—uncertain whether to shove her off or pull her closer—but Alicent didn’t give her a choice. She climbed into the seat beside her fully, pressing Rhaenyra back against the door, one hand tangling into silver-blonde hair, the other gripping her hip hard enough to bruise.
“You don’t get to talk now,” Alicent muttered against her lips, breath ragged. “You don’t get to act like you know me. You don’t know shit.”
Rhaenyra moaned—low and helpless—trying to answer but Alicent kissed her again, harder this time. Rhaenyra's fingers finally clutched at her waist, nails digging into her back as she surrendered to it.
But Alicent never lost control. Her mouth moved with bruising intensity, her teeth dragging along Rhaenyra’s lower lip just enough to draw a quiet, desperate sound from her.
When they finally broke apart—breathless, lips swollen, hair tousled—Alicent hovered there, eyes burning. Rhaenyra looked stunned. Dazed. Her voice was a rasp when she spoke.
“You’ve been waiting to do that,” she whispered.
Alicent smirked, still too close. “No. I’ve been waiting for you to shut up long enough for me to do it properly.”
Rhaenyra’s expression flickered between impressed and annoyed, her mouth twitching as if she wanted to fire back—but she didn’t. Not this time.
A heavy silence filled the space between them, thick with heat, frustration, and something darker—something unspoken.
Rhaenyra’s eyes were locked onto Alicent’s, stormy and unreadable, but she didn’t pull away. Neither did Alicent. The anger, the confusion, the weeks of sharp glances and half-meant words—all of it collapsed in on itself the second their lips collided again.
This kiss wasn’t sharp or punishing like the first. It was desperate—slow, searching, and deep. Alicent’s hands cupped the sides of Rhaenyra’s face, fingers threading into her silver-blonde hair as if grounding herself in this moment, this person. Rhaenyra sighed against her mouth, her hands sliding around Alicent’s waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.
"You like me" Rhaenyra said.
“You’re a liar,” Alicent whispered between kisses, her voice rough as her lips skimmed Rhaenyra’s cheek, jaw, the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. “This doesn’t mean I like you.”
Rhaenyra let out a breathless laugh, her hands tightening around her. “Oh, no, of course not. You just like climbing on top of people you can’t stand.”
Alicent smirked and kissed her again—harder this time. Her hand slipped under the edge of Rhaenyra’s dress, just brushing the curve of her thigh. The contact made Rhaenyra shiver, her breath catching audibly. Alicent leaned back just enough to watch her reaction, eyes hungry, lips parted.
“You’re shaking,” she murmured.
“You’re not exactly playing fair,” Rhaenyra shot back, her voice thinner now, edges softening.
Alicent’s hand moved higher, palm warm against her skin, her thumb tracing lazy circles just above her knee. Rhaenyra’s breath hitched again, her head tipping back against the seat. Her skin was flushed, glowing in the soft ambient light of the limousine.
“What exactly are you doing?” Rhaenyra asked, trying to sound composed, but the quiver in her voice betrayed her.
“You said I could have you,” Alicent said, her voice low, lips ghosting along the line of Rhaenyra’s throat. “I’m collecting.”
“I said that hypothetically,” Rhaenyra said through a half-laugh, half-moan. “You can’t take everything so literally.”
Alicent bit her lip, her mouth pressing hotly to Rhaenyra’s collarbone as she pushed the dress fabric up slowly, savoring every exposed inch of skin. “Then stop me.”
Rhaenyra didn’t move.
“You know,” she murmured, breathless, “I’m not planning to lose my virginity in the back of a limo. Six minutes from my house.”
Alicent chuckled against her skin, her hand splaying wide along her ribcage, feeling the quickened rhythm of her breathing. “Then let me have six minutes,” she whispered. “Just this. Just a little longer.”
Their mouths met again, deeper now—more rhythm than chaos, more hunger than control. Alicent pressed her body into Rhaenyra’s, one hand sliding around to cradle the back of her neck, the other still beneath the silk of her dress. She kissed her like a question she wasn’t ready to ask, like an answer she didn’t know she needed. Their bodies fit together too perfectly, too naturally, and it scared them both in ways they couldn’t voice.
“You don’t like me,” Rhaenyra mocked against her lips, her words a whisper of defiance. “Say it again.”
Alicent responded by biting her lower lip gently, pulling a surprised gasp from her. “I don’t like you,” she growled, “I want you.”
It was a confession neither of them were ready for—but both of them felt down to their bones.
And in the hum of the limousine, wrapped in leather and heat and tangled limbs, six minutes started to feel like the most dangerous amount of time in the world.