Chapter 6
It started with whispered glances and bruises half-hidden beneath silk blouses. Rhaenyra’s hoodie would linger around Alicent’s shoulders a little too long. Alicent’s perfume would haunt the sleeves of Rhaenyra’s leather jacket. It wasn’t official—not in any way that mattered to the world—but behind closed doors, in library corners, in the hush of midnight dorm rooms, they weren’t exactly subtle either.
People noticed. Of course they did.
Harwin had raised an eyebrow the first time Alicent showed up at their table outside the quad café, iced matcha in one hand and the other brushing Rhaenyra’s shoulder like it belonged there. Leana had smirked, a silent but knowing look passing between her and Joffrey. Even Leanor, ever the most gracious of her inner circle, had started asking if Alicent was joining them before he asked what movie they were watching.
They didn’t put a label on it. Rhaenyra didn’t ask, and Alicent didn’t offer. They were busy being reckless in shadows and careful in daylight.
Until the question came.
Some throwaway comment in the middle of a Friday afternoon, in the back lawn of the Fine Arts building. Someone—probably Baela, sharp-tongued and half-teasing—said something like, “So, are you two like… a thing?”
Rhaenyra felt the air shift, subtle as a tremor. She didn’t speak. Didn’t blink. She just turned her head to look at Alicent.
It wasn’t a test, not really. But it could’ve been a moment.
Alicent smoothed the hem of her skirt. She looked around—at the faces watching, at the way the wind moved Rhaenyra’s hair like it was always reaching for her—and said, with a soft shrug and an even softer smile, “We’re just friends.”
Silence. One of those thick, dragging kinds. And then laughter—someone saying “Right, sure”—and the moment passed.
But Rhaenyra didn’t laugh.
She didn’t flinch either. She just turned back to her textbook and nodded, like that didn’t hit. Like it didn’t crack something clean in half behind her ribs.
After that afternoon—the “We’re just friends”—things didn’t end. Of course they didn’t. That’s not how this kind of thing worked. If anything, their not-quite relationship sharpened, turned more deliberate, more private, like they’d both silently agreed to unname whatever was happening between them.
But it didn’t stop.
They still met. Still touched. Still needed.
Late nights in Rhaenyra’s room, the door always locked, music low and lights off, silhouettes tangling in the dark. Early mornings when Alicent would sneak out barefoot, hair messy, cardigan wrapped around her shoulders like it might hide what they’d done. And in between—the stolen hours on campus. The backseat of Rhaenyra’s car parked under the old oak lot near the conservatory, windows fogged, her leather jacket half-thrown into the passenger seat. Or the rare days when they’d slip between the stacks in the east wing of the library—quiet, reverent, the scent of old books mixing with heat and heartbeat.
It was like muscle memory now. It didn’t need language.
Alicent would press her palm against Rhaenyra’s spine when no one was looking. Rhaenyra would leave notes tucked into Alicent’s poetry books—never signed, but unmistakable. They lived like ghosts in each other’s lives. Felt everything. Said nothing.
To everyone else, they were civil. Sometimes even cold. Rhaenyra would talk with Leana too long at lunch, laugh too loud with Joffrey during study breaks. Alicent would brush it off, smile like none of it bothered her. And when she couldn’t—when it did—she’d pull Rhaenyra into the music building’s soundproof practice room and slam the door shut behind them.
And no one knew. Not really.
Everyone suspected, sure. That never stopped. The glances. The half-jokes. The way Criston Cole started acting tense whenever Rhaenyra walked into the chapel lobby, or how Otto’s eyes always narrowed when Alicent came home with her hair mussed and her eyes a little too tired.
But there was no confirmation. No proof. No label. And that was the point.
Because they both needed it to not be real. If it was real, it could be ruined. If it was real, someone could take it.
So they lived in the space between secrecy and surrender.
At one of the Cristons party, Rhaenyra showed up in cream silk, uninvited but undeniably present. Alicent didn’t look at her once in front of the guests. But when the sun dipped low and the lanterns began to glow, they disappeared for seven minutes behind the wine cellar.
When Rhaenyra taught Alicent how to drive, she grinned every time Alicent stalled—because she’d lean forward, flushed and frustrated, biting her lip. They didn’t kiss then, not there, not with traffic behind them. But later, back at Rhaenyra’s wing, when Alicent dropped the keys on her desk and muttered something about “you’re an impossible teacher,” Rhaenyra kissed her until she forgot how to speak.
And then there was the time Alicent brought her to the stables. Rhaenyra teased her about her riding boots, about the way she snapped commands at the mare like she was trying to intimidate it into obedience. Rhaenyra didn’t ride that day—just watched, chin tucked into her arm over the stall door, quietly mesmerized. Later, in the tack room, with the scent of hay and leather all around them, Rhaenyra pressed Alicent against the wood-paneled wall and whispered, “You like control so much, why don’t you use it?”
Alicent did.
But when the sun rose the next morning, Rhaenyra was gone before the estate woke up.
They were wrapped around each other but never facing the same direction.
And still—they kept going. Still, no one knew. Still, they told the world they were just friends.
It was almost believable, if not for the way they looked at each other like it was war. Like it was love.
Or maybe both.
One day, they alnost did get cought.
It was late.
Campus quiet had settled into that soft, echoing kind of silence that only happened after midnight, when the last study groups had broken up and even the ambitious freshmen had given up on their outlines and gone back to their dorms.
The library was closed. Officially.
But Rhaenyra had a keycard.
Of course she did. Leana swiped it for her one weekend and Rhaenyra never gave it back. Said it was for “emergencies,” which apparently included slow-burning frustration and three unanswered texts from Alicent earlier that day.
Now, they were tucked into the reading nook on the third floor—curtains drawn, lights low. The whole floor was empty. Or it had been.
Alicent was straddling Rhaenyra’s lap in an armchair too small for two bodies and far too creaky for this sort of thing. Her fingers were buried in Rhaenyra’s hair, hips shifting with a deliberate slowness that made Rhaenyra curse under her breath.
They weren’t being careful. Not like usual. The frustration from earlier—the constant restraint, the way Alicent had smiled too wide at some junior senator’s son during a campus luncheon while Rhaenyra watched from across the room—it was all bleeding out now in touch, in pressure, in heat.
Then—
Footsteps.
Distant. Echoing up the stairwell. Getting closer.
Alicent froze. Pulled back. “Someone’s here.”
“No one’s here,” Rhaenyra whispered back, but her hands were already slipping off Alicent’s waist. She stood up fast, fixed her shirt, wiped her mouth like a reflex.
Alicent darted to the window, peeking between the curtains.
“Shit. Someone is here.”
They scrambled. Rhaenyra nearly tripped over her jacket on the floor. Alicent grabbed the poetry book she hadn’t even opened and shoved it into her bag. They ducked behind a row of reference shelves just as the door to the third floor creaked open.
Voices.
Not security—worse. Students. Two girls laughing, whispering about sneaking up to find “that one professor’s grad thesis.” One of them giggled something about “nobody ever comes up here this late.”
Rhaenyra’s back hit the wall of books with a quiet thud. Alicent pressed close beside her, heart pounding so hard she was sure Rhaenyra could feel it.
“You left the curtain open on the door,” Alicent hissed, barely audible.
“I was distracted,” Rhaenyra mouthed back. “Wonder why.”
The footsteps circled the reading nook, lingered. Rhaenyra held her breath. She could feel Alicent’s shoulder against hers, the tension in every inch of her.
“Did you hear something?” one of the girls asked.
Rhaenyra didn’t move.
They waited.
Finally, the girls gave up, laughing again, retreating to the stairs. The door shut behind them with a faint clunk.
Silence.
Then—Alicent burst out laughing. Just once. Sharp and shocked.
“That was so dumb,” she said, burying her face in Rhaenyra’s shoulder, still half shaking.
“Hot, though,” Rhaenyra replied, grinning.
Alicent smacked her arm, but didn’t pull away.
They didn’t kiss again. Not then. They just stood there in the dark, breathing hard, still flushed, adrenaline pounding like bass.
And they left together. Separately.
Always separately.
///
The moment Alicent parallel-parked her sedan with a smooth, practiced flick of the wrist, she exhaled like she’d just conquered a small kingdom. Her hands slipped off the wheel, fingers drumming lightly along the curve of the leather, composed as ever—but Rhaenyra could see the glimmer of pride tucked behind her sharp eyes.
“You didn’t even bump the curb,” Rhaenyra said, voice low, teasing, as she turned in her seat. “Color me shocked.”
Alicent rolled her eyes. “I’ve been practicing for weeks. Unlike you, I don’t consider chaos a valid driving strategy.”
“Oh, I know,” Rhaenyra murmured, sliding her fingers down the inside of Alicent’s arm. “You’re very… precise.”
She leaned in close, letting her lips brush against the curve of Alicent’s jaw. The cabin filled with silence so still it trembled—until Rhaenyra moved.
Her hand dropped to Alicent’s lap with no hesitation, and Alicent’s breath caught.
“Rhaenyra,” she said, her voice dipping into warning territory.
But Rhaenyra just smiled, wicked and soft all at once. “You said I owed you something. For passing.”
Alicent stared ahead through the windshield, as if the empty street could anchor her composure. But her jaw flexed. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” Rhaenyra whispered, unbuckling her seatbelt with a slow click. “But I’ve been thinking about this since you showed me your license this morning.”
Alicent made a soft, almost imperceptible sound as Rhaenyra slipped between the center console and the steering wheel, graceful and feline. Her hand ghosted over Alicent’s thigh, her eyes bright with heat.
“You don’t have to,” Alicent murmured. Her voice remained steady, but her pupils dilated. “You know that.”
Rhaenyra looked up at her from under thick lashes. “I want to.”
She undid Alicent’s belt and zipper with careful fingers, deliberate, unhurried. The scent of her—sharp, clean, threaded with the quiet hum of alpha musk—wrapped around Rhaenyra like a tether.
Alicent was hard already, and Rhaenyra’s mouth curved as she eased her free.
She stroked her once, twice, slow enough to make Alicent’s eyelids flutter. “I should make you drive while I do it,” she said lightly. “Test your focus.”
Alicent laughed under her breath, sharp and breathless. “That’s extremely unsafe.”
“So is what I’m about to do.”
Rhaenyra bent her head and took her in—deep, warm, reverent. Alicent’s hips jolted subtly off the seat, but Rhaenyra’s hands were already braced on her thighs, holding her in place as she sank further.
The sounds in the car shifted—breath hitching, wetness, the creak of leather as Alicent’s fingers curled tight around the steering wheel. She kept her gaze forward, jaw clenched, but the flush rising up her throat betrayed her.
“Gods,” she whispered, and Rhaenyra hummed around her in approval. Alicent’s hand shot down instinctively, tangling in platinum hair.
“Rhaenyra,” she said again, voice cracked and raw now. “You—”
But she didn’t finish. Couldn’t.
Rhaenyra moved with confidence, knowing exactly how to make her lose the carefully constructed composure she wore like armor. And when Alicent finally gave in—eyes fluttering shut, hips trembling beneath Rhaenyra’s grip—it was beautiful.
She came with a low, wrecked groan, trying to stifle it, failing.
Rhaenyra pulled back slowly, licking her lips as she looked up.
“Well,” she said, smug. “I’d say you earned that license.”
Alicent let out a slow breath, trying to gather herself. “You’re insufferable.”
“But effective.”
Alicent looked at her, eyes still hazy. “I should report you to the DMV.”
Rhaenyra grinned, leaned back into her seat, and wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb.
“Good luck explaining that one.”
///
The room was warm, heavy with the scent of skin and sweat, the distant hum of the city muffled by thick curtains. Rhaenyra’s sheets twisted beneath them, one of her legs hooked around Alicent’s waist as her alpha moved above her, slow and steady, deep enough to make her breath catch with each roll of her hips.
It wasn’t rushed tonight. There was no one in the house. No reason to stifle moans or pull away too soon. Just Alicent pressing into her again and again, mouth grazing Rhaenyra’s jawline, her neck, the curve of her shoulder — not kissing for show or for power, but because she needed to.
Rhaenyra clutched at her, eyes shut, mouth open in a moan that curled into something desperate. Alicent held her tighter in response, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other gripping her hip, grounding her.
Rhaenyra was close. She’d been close for a while — stretched taut under the slow, deliberate rhythm that Alicent never broke. Her breath stuttered, spine arching, lips brushing Alicent’s ear with a whisper that cut through the heat like a thread snapping loose:
“Tell me I’m yours.”
Alicent froze — just for a second.
Her thrust faltered, the words seeming to catch her off-guard, head lifting as if to meet Rhaenyra’s gaze. But she didn’t speak. Didn’t answer.
Her cheeks flushed deeper, jaw tense. Instead of words, she dipped down, lips at Rhaenyra’s throat, kissing her again, slower this time. Softer. Like she didn’t trust her voice — or what she might say if she gave it room.
Rhaenyra’s hands fisted in the sheets. Her body shuddered as the orgasm tore through her anyway, spine bowing, a sharp cry slipping out as she clung to Alicent, gasping, trembling under the weight of it all.
Alicent didn’t let go. She held her through it, hips slowing to match the pace of Rhaenyra’s breath, never pulling away — just nuzzling into the crook of her neck, breathing her in like she could hide in her skin.
Neither of them said anything.
But something had shifted. Quiet, unspoken. Suspended between them like the question Rhaenyra hadn’t waited for an answer to.
Still — Alicent stayed inside her. Still kissing her. Still holding her.
And just before Rhaenyra turned her face away, just before her eyes fluttered closed, a single tear slid down her temple. Silent. Undeniable.
Alicent saw it. She paused.
For a moment, her hand hovered near Rhaenyra’s cheek, unsure. Then it dropped again, quietly choosing to pretend she hadn’t seen.
But the kiss she pressed to Rhaenyra’s neck a heartbeat later was different — slower, deeper.
The room had long since fallen still. Their bodies had cooled, skin barely touching beneath the rumpled sheets, the only sound the gentle whir of the ceiling fan and the occasional buzz of a phone on silent.
Alicent lay on her side, one arm curled under her head, watching Rhaenyra’s profile. She hadn’t said much since they'd cleaned up — no teasing, no drawled satisfaction. Just silence and the cold blue glow of her screen lighting her face as she scrolled. Her lips pressed into a faint line, unreadable.
Alicent hated not knowing.
“Are you okay?” she asked finally, quiet in the dark.
Rhaenyra didn’t look at her. Just gave a little shrug, thumb still swiping. “Mmhm.”
That was it.
Alicent frowned. Her fingers twitched where they rested against Rhaenyra’s hip, but she didn’t press. She never pressed. She just lay there, the growing silence between them louder than it should have been.
“You want something?” Rhaenyra called without looking. “You keep staring like you’re about to scold me again.”
Alicent rolled her eyes. “You’ve got a truly disturbing level of self-absorption, you know that?”
“Mm, probably. Go on, scold away.”
Instead, Alicent held up the box.
That got Rhaenyra’s attention. She rolled onto her side, brows raising. “You bought me something?”
“I said no such thing.”
“You literally just held out a box. What else would that mean? You proposing?”
Alicent gave her a dry look. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s just jewelry.”
“From you?” Rhaenyra sat up, a grin tugging at her lips. “You picked it out? Tell me it’s hideous. Tell me it’s something boring and pearl-studded like your debate team accessories.”
“Open it and find out.”
Rhaenyra did. Her smile shifted the second she saw it—not gone, just… curved. Quieter. The necklace inside was gold, delicate, a garnet set in the center like a secret. Not overdone. Not performative. Just real.
“For the record,” Alicent said, standing now, moving toward her, “I had it before I saw you in that red top last week. So don’t go making this weird.”
“Oh, it’s already weird,” Rhaenyra murmured. “You getting me gifts like we’re dating.”
“We’re not.”
“I know.”
“Good.”
A pause.
“Still,” Rhaenyra added, holding the necklace out, “you could at least put it on me if you’re going to be so serious about it.”
Alicent took it with a sigh, stepping behind her, brushing Rhaenyra’s hair to the side like she’d done it a hundred times before. The clasp clicked in place, and the chain settled against Rhaenyra’s collarbones.
Alicent’s fingers brushed against Rhaenyra’s nape as she fastened the clasp, but instead of pulling away, she lingered. Her mouth dipped just slightly—first the barest touch of lips, then a soft kiss just beneath the curve of Rhaenyra’s jaw. She didn’t rush it. She didn’t have to.
Rhaenyra laughed, sharp and surprised. “So that’s what this is.”
Alicent didn’t answer. Just kissed her again, slower this time, mouth pressing over the spot where the necklace chain met skin. Her hands were still at Rhaenyra’s shoulders, thumbs idly stroking her collarbones like she was testing the weight of her own restraint.
Rhaenyra turned her head, her grin lazily smug. “Tell me you didn’t spend an enormous, frankly embarrassing amount of money on jewelry just to secure a second round.”
Alicent’s mouth twitched near her neck. “I didn’t.”
“Mm-hm.”
“I didn’t,” Alicent repeated. “The thought just... occurred to me later.”
“Oh, so it was an accidental seduction. Classy.”
“I wasn’t seducing you,” Alicent muttered, moving her mouth down just a little further, lips ghosting along the edge of Rhaenyra’s shoulder now. “You’re the one who said put it on me like we were in some Regency drama.”
“Well, you did buy me sapphires.”
“Garnet,” Alicent corrected automatically.
“Even worse. They’re the color of sin. You knew what you were doing.”
Rhaenyra shifted in place, arching her neck to give her better access, still grinning like she wasn’t the one losing her breath over nothing. “What will the other alphas think, Hightower? Buying off the competition with blood-colored gemstones?”
Alicent bit her.
Not hard, but enough that Rhaenyra’s breath hitched.
“Jealousy doesn’t suit you,” Rhaenyra murmured.
“I’m not jealous.”
“Yet you’re literally marking me.”
“I'm not marking you, you know that. I’m indulging you,” Alicent said crisply, though the rasp in her voice did a poor job of selling it.
“Oh, I’m so indulged.”
Alicent kissed the spot again. Softer now. She was no longer talking, and Rhaenyra wasn’t pushing—not really. Just letting her mouth curl into a smile, letting her skin heat under Alicent’s hands, letting herself lean back ever so slightly into her.
“I’m going to assume you’re done pretending this isn’t what you want,” Rhaenyra said.
Alicent’s answer was a hand sliding to Rhaenyra’s hip, a firm grip through the soft cotton of her sleep shorts, and a low murmur near her ear: “Lie back.”
Rhaenyra didn’t obey right away. She turned her head instead, face flushed with the kind of smugness that only came from being absolutely, completely desired.
“Knew it,” she whispered. “You do want round two.”
Alicent pushed her down into the pillows.
Safe to say, Rhaenyras jewery box was full after few more weeks.
///
The cold fluorescent lights flickered faintly overhead as Rhaenyra leaned into the mirror, lazily fixing her eyeliner. The campus building was quiet at this hour, most students either in class or scattered outside enjoying the rare sunlight. She’d been riding on the buzz of a good morning—until the door creaked open behind her.
She glanced up at the mirror. Frida.
Rhaenyra sighed inwardly and kept her focus on the liner.
Frida moved with that signature grace, not a hint of hesitation in her steps as she stopped a few feet away and leaned against the sink next to her. She didn’t say anything at first—just studied Rhaenyra in the reflection with a gaze too knowing to ignore.
“Didn't think I'd catch you without your shadow,” Frida finally said.
Rhaenyra lifted her chin slightly. “She’s in class.”
“Right,” Frida said, nodding slowly. “Of course. She’s always around you lately. Just never… you know, with you.”
Rhaenyra’s mouth twitched. “What’s your point?”
Frida scoffed lightly. “It’s funny, isn’t it? When I was with Alicent, she made it clear. Introduced me to her friends. Sat next to me in the library. Let people know we were a thing.”
“Okay?” Rhaenyra muttered.
“She held my hand in public,” Frida said, voice sharp now. “Not in the shadows, not in a locked car or behind someone’s apartment door.”
The words stung more than they should have. Rhaenyra masked it with a bored expression, but Frida didn’t miss the shift in her posture.
“You think you’ve got something real with her,” Frida pressed, “but if it was real—why’s it hidden? Why is it just you and her, behind closed doors, and nothing more?”
Rhaenyra clenched her jaw.
“You think she’s different with you,” Frida said, stepping closer now, tone quieter but cutting. “But it’s just sex. You know that, don’t you? If she wanted something real, she wouldn’t have jumped into your bed. She would’ve taken her time. Made it mean something.”
“She’s just not the kind of person who—”
“No, she is,” Frida snapped. “She was with me.”
That silence between them suddenly felt dense. Rhaenyra didn’t flinch, didn’t react—but the pause spoke for itself.
“She took her time with me,” Frida continued. “Said she wanted to earn me. Said I mattered.”
“Then why aren’t you together?” Rhaenyra asked, steady but low.
Frida’s eyes flicked away for a beat. “Because she stopped showing up. She disappeared. For you.”
That landed hard.
“And what did she do with you?” Frida asked, voice dripping now. “Did she ask you out? Did she plan anything for you? Or did she just wait until your parents were out of town?”
Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes. “You’re bitter.”
“I’m honest,” Frida said. “You’re the one who needs to wake up.”
Frida’s hand paused on the door handle, but she glanced over her shoulder one last time.
“It’s just luck for her, you know,” she said, voice softer, almost pitying now. “Right place, right pheromones. When that heat passes—when her alpha instincts cool down—she’ll come back. To someone who actually meant something.”
Rhaenyra didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her throat tightened, her jaw locked.
Frida didn’t wait for an answer. She just slipped out the door and left Rhaenyra staring at herself in the mirror, suddenly not quite sure what expression she was wearing. Her chest burned, but not in the fun way.
A sharp buzz from her phone cut through the air.
Alicent:You free?
Just those two words. Short. Normal. Like nothing had changed.
Rhaenyra’s thumb hovered over the screen… then she locked it, shoved the phone into her pocket, and walked out without replying.
The sun had dipped lower in the sky. Most students lingered in lazy conversations around the benches or spilled across the grass. Rhaenyra sat on one of the stone ledges near the fountain, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, earbuds in, but no music playing. The screen was just something to look at—something to hide behind.
She hadn’t messaged Alicent back. She wasn’t sure she could without sounding like she was about to bite her head off. The worst part was that she wasn’t even sure Alicent had done anything wrong. But the ache in her chest from Frida’s words lingered like smoke in her lungs.
A shadow fell over her.
She didn’t have to look up to know.
“Hey,” Alicent said, voice low and unsure.
Rhaenyra pulled one earbud out. “Hey.”
“You left me on read.”
Rhaenyra shrugged, not looking at her. “Was busy.”
Alicent frowned faintly. “I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out. I could come by tonight?”
“I’ve got stuff.”
There was a pause. Rhaenyra felt the weight of Alicent’s stare. She knew her. Knew she wasn’t used to uncertainty in Rhaenyra’s tone, or the cold distance in her eyes.
“You okay?”
“I’m great,” Rhaenyra said, too fast, too clipped.
Alicent sat down beside her, keeping a small space between them. Her body language was all restraint—uncertain whether to lean in or back away. “Did something happen?”
Rhaenyra finally looked at her. “Why would something happen?”
Alicent blinked, slowly. “I don’t know. You tell me.”
Another shrug. “Maybe I just realized we’re not actually friends.”
Alicent’s brow furrowed. “Is that what you think this is?”
“I don’t know what this is,” Rhaenyra snapped, then stood abruptly. “And maybe that’s the problem.”
Alicent stood too. “Rhaenyra—”
“I’ve decided that i dont want to hook up with friends anymore.”
Rhaenyra’s tone was unwavering, like she'd been rehearsing this. Alicent stared at her, searching for the cracks, the places she could slide into and ask why. But there was nothing—no invitation, no softness.
“Okay,” Alicent said, heart hammering. “Okay. Then what do you want from me? Just to hang out? Pretend like nothing happened?”
Rhaenyra didn’t answer. She just stared at her, calm and unreadable.
Alicent took a step forward. “You don’t want to talk about it?”
Still, no reply.
“Seriously? That’s it?” Her voice broke a little, the edges fraying. “You cut things off and you won’t even tell me why?”
“I don’t owe you an explanation.”
Alicent stared. Her mind was reeling, darting from moment to moment—the last time they kissed, the way Rhaenyra had clung to her, the stupid necklace, the morning coffee runs, the teasing smirks and the way Rhaenyra had looked at her like she belonged there. How could it all unravel so fast?
“I thought you wanted this too,” she said, quieter now. “You didn’t— You didn’t act like it was nothing.”
Rhaenyra’s jaw tensed, but she didn’t speak.
Alicent took another step forward, voice softening in desperation. “If this is about something I did—if I hurt you, or scared you, or—just tell me. I’ll fix it.”
Rhaenyra looked away, her gaze suddenly trained on something just past Alicent’s shoulder. “There’s nothing to fix.”
Her tone wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t kind either. It was just... empty.
“I don’t get it,” Alicent whispered. “Yesterday you—” She stopped herself. The memory of Rhaenyra’s hand on her neck, her voice gasping for more, her single tear catching in the hollow of her throat. “You wanted me yesterday.”
“I changed my mind,” Rhaenyra said flatly.
Alicent felt something crack in her chest.
“Don’t do that,” she said. “Don’t pretend like you don’t care.”
“I’m not pretending anything.”
“Then tell me the truth.”
Rhaenyra’s gaze finally met hers. “I don’t want to do this anymore with friends. That’s the truth.”
Silence.
Alicent’s throat felt tight. “So that’s it.”
“Yeah,” Rhaenyra said. “That’s it.”
They stood there like that, inches apart but miles away. Alicent was still staring at her, as if there might be some way to reverse this moment, rewind it, undo whatever damage had been done—but Rhaenyra’s shoulders were already turning, her body shifting away from her.
Alicent didn’t follow.
She couldn’t.
It had been months since she touched a cigarette.
Now the taste felt both foreign and familiar—harsh on her throat, heavy in her lungs. Alicent leaned against the brick wall behind the humanities building, eyes half-lidded, watching the smoke curl up and vanish into the dull afternoon sky. Her fingers trembled, but she blamed the wind.
Bootsteps scraped nearby. She didn’t bother turning.
“I thought you quit,” Criston said.
She took another drag before replying. “Guess I thought wrong.”
He came to stand beside her, giving her space but not too much. She didn’t look at him. The silence stretched.
He nodded toward the cigarette. “Everything alright?”
Alicent gave a dry laugh. “Sure. Peachy.”
Criston hummed. “Right.”
They stood there a beat longer before he tilted his head slightly. “You and Rhaenyra…”
“Don’t,” she cut in, sharp.
He raised a hand. “Okay. Just—” he hesitated, then said it anyway. “You two seemed close. Closer than most friends.”
Alicent didn’t reply at first. Just watched the smoke trail from her lips, eyes on a crack in the pavement. Then, flatly: “She got bored.”
Criston blinked. “Bored?”
“She’s done with whatever that was,” Alicent said, softer now. “Decided we’re not friends. Or maybe we never were.” She flicked ash off the end of the cigarette, eyes still down. “I think it was just something to do, for her. Until it wasn’t.”
Criston watched her carefully. “She said that?”
“She didn’t have to.” A beat. “Anyway. It’s over.”
Criston leaned back against the wall beside her, hands in his pockets. “You don’t sound that surprised.”
“I’m not.” Her voice caught slightly, but she swallowed it down. “Just... tired.”
The cigarette was burning low. She let the silence sit between them again, heavy but not unwelcome.
Finally, Criston glanced at her sideways, lips twitching. “So... does that mean I’ve got a shot now?”
Alicent snorted, despite herself, rolling her eyes. “Jesus, Cole.”
Criston didn’t leave when she stubbed out the cigarette.
She turned to go, pulling her jacket tighter around her frame, but he followed easily, steps quiet beside hers.
“You know,” he said casually, “you really shouldn’t let this get to you.”
Alicent gave a humorless laugh. “Thanks. I hadn’t considered that.”
“I’m serious.” He nudged her shoulder with his. “She’s not the only person in the world, you know.”
Alicent slowed slightly. “Maybe not. But she’s the only one who’s been in my head for months.”
Criston nodded, not pushing. “Alright. But then maybe you need to get out of your head for a bit.”
They walked in silence for a beat more until he pulled out his phone, tapping quickly. “It’s Friday. Campus is dead. Half the dorms are at house parties, the rest are crawling into their third bottle of wine or sneaking into clubs.”
She didn’t answer, just shoved her hands deeper into her coat pockets.
He angled the screen toward her. “But this one’s actually decent.”
Alicent glanced down. A flyer lit up the screen, crisp and silver: “VELVET ROOM: Prestige Fridays – No Lines. No Limits.” Criston added, “High-profile, low drama. Well... low enough. I know the guy at the door. We’d be in before the line even breathes.”
She looked away, hesitating. “Criston…”
“You’re not gonna solve anything brooding over it alone,” he said. “So you can sit and sulk about some girl who ghosted you after playing hot and cold for weeks, or you can put on that ridiculous black dress you never wear and come have a drink. Or five.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. Then, finally—reluctantly—she nodded.
“Alright,” she muttered. “Fine. But I’m not dancing.”
He grinned. “Sure you’re not.”
“I mean it.”
“I believe you.”
///
The bouncer barely glanced at Criston before unclipping the velvet rope.
Inside, Velvet Room was dim-lit and velvet-draped, just like the name suggested—sleek floors, low golden lighting, tables in shadowy alcoves. A slow pulse of deep bass shook the floor beneath their shoes, not frantic, but rhythmic, almost seductive. The kind of place where you were expected to be seen and barely heard.
Alicent walked in behind Criston, already regretting the heels she picked.
“VIP’s upstairs,” he said, leading the way toward a curved staircase wrapped in chrome.
She followed, brushing past bodies perfumed with expensive cologne and curated disinterest. On the landing above, the air was clearer—less crowded, more intentional. The couches were dark velvet, the tables filled with tall glasses, champagne, and people trying too hard to look like they weren’t trying at all.
Criston ordered for them both, dropping her a neat glass of something honey-golden and strong.
Alicent sat back, crossed her legs, and took a sip. The burn grounded her.
She scanned the room. A beta in a floor-length silk slip caught her eye for a second, but it didn’t stir anything in her. A group of alphas near the bar laughed too loudly. A scent in the air—sharp, feminine, not Rhaenyra’s—drifted past, and she flinched, swallowing hard.
“You okay?” Criston asked, lounging beside her.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
He didn’t buy it. “She’s not here, you know.”
“I know.”
“You’re looking for her anyway.”
Someone passed by—a girl with a cascade of red curls and a smoky laugh—and Criston watched her, nudged Alicent. “She looked at you.”
Alicent raised a brow. “Not interested.”
“Even for a rebound?”
She stared at the dance floor, lights flashing blue across silver and sweat. “I don’t think I’m the one rebounding.”
Criston studied her for a second longer before sighing and letting it go.
“Alright,” he said, tapping the rim of her glass. “Drink. Watch. Pretend to enjoy yourself.”
She did.
The drink in her hand had gotten sweeter. Or maybe she just stopped caring.
Alicent didn’t remember how many glasses she’d gone through by now—enough that the weight pressing behind her eyes was warm and distant, that the music no longer thudded against her skull but pulsed through her bloodstream.
Criston had disappeared for a bit, only to return with a group of friends she didn’t recognize. Betas and omegas mostly, loud and beautiful, with expensive haircuts and the glittering kind of confidence that only came from knowing you were being watched.
One of them, an omega in a white silk dress—Mysaria, she’d introduced herself, with a kiss to both Alicent’s cheeks—didn’t stop looking at her. She smelled like jasmine and something sharper, something daring.
“You don’t seem like someone who goes here often,” Mysaria had said over the rim of her cocktail.
Alicent laughed, a little too loud. “You’d be surprised.”
They danced. Or maybe they just swayed in rhythm, shoulder to shoulder, Mysaria’s hands lingering at her hips, her mouth brushing closer when she leaned in to talk. It wasn’t serious. Alicent didn’t want serious. She just wanted to feel—
Wanted.
And she was halfway into another laugh—her fingers grazing the edge of Mysaria’s wrist—when someone grabbed her from behind.
Not roughly. But firmly.
Alicent turned, confused, half-smiling.
“Laena?” she blinked, trying to place the face in the club lighting.
“Laena Velaryon,” the woman said tightly. “Rhaenyra’s cousin.”
Alicent’s stomach dropped.
Before she could respond, Laena had her by the wrist and was pulling her toward a darker, quieter corner of the mezzanine, out of sight of the main crowd.
“Hey—what the fuck—” Alicent started, pulling her arm back.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Laena snapped, voice sharp, not slurred at all. “With her, with that girl—what is this?”
Alicent straightened, jaw tense. “You’ve got the wrong idea.”
“Oh, do I?” Laena’s mouth twisted. “Because I’ve seen you two. I know you and Rhaenyra are dating. Or whatever secret shit-show version of dating you two are doing.”
Alicent stiffened, blinking past the haze. “We’re just friends.”
Laena gave a short, humorless laugh. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s a lie,” Laena shot back, stepping closer. “I can smell you on each other. All the time. You reek of it. Of her. You think you’re being discreet? You're not. Half the time I see Rhaenyra she looks like she’s been fucked through a wall, and guess who’s always hanging off her arm right after?”
Alicent’s breath caught in her throat. “It’s not what you think—”
“Don’t insult me. And I know my cousin. You think she does all this—for you—just for fun? Just for kicks?”
Alicent stayed silent. Not because she didn’t have anything to say, but because she suddenly wasn’t sure of any of it anymore.
Laena stepped back, eyes narrowing. “If you’re going to fuck around with other people, have the guts to break it off first. Because I swear, if you hurt her…”
“She’s not mine to break anything off with,” Alicent said quietly. “We’re not—”
“Laena!” someone called from the other side of the room—Joffrey, probably. The moment snapped.
Laena shot Alicent one last look. “Then maybe you should stop acting like you are.”
As Laena pushed her way back through the crowd, she dug her phone out of her clutch with one hand, typing as she walked.
Laena: Come to this location. Your girlfriend is here. Too drunk for her own good.
She hit send, watching the message deliver with sharp satisfaction.
It didn’t take long.
Rhaenyra [typing…]
Rhaenyra: ?????
Rhaenyra: Is Alicent okay?? What happened??
Laena’s lips curled into a smirk. She didn’t answer right away—just stared at the screen a second longer, letting the tension twist tight on the other side of it. Then she typed slowly, deliberately:
Laena: So she’s your girlfriend, huh? Good to have confirmation.
A pause.
Then, a second message, before Rhaenyra could scramble to walk back what she hadn’t meant to admit:
Laena: Come here. See for yourself. She’s with someone else. And it’s not some innocent conversation either.
She tucked the phone away without waiting for another reply.
Let her come.
Let her see.
Back inside the club, Alicent stood still for a moment in the shadows, where Laena had left her. The buzz was back in her skull, but not the good kind. It settled behind her eyes like a pressure waiting to burst.
Mysaria was laughing with a friend by the bar again, a sleek silhouette lit up in neon and champagne glow. Every once in a while, her gaze flicked toward Alicent—expectant, curious.
Alicent didn’t move. Didn’t go to her.
Not because of guilt—fuck that.
She hadn’t done anything wrong. Not really. She and Rhaenyra weren’t dating. Not officially. Not publicly. Not at all, if you asked either of them outright.
It didn’t count if no one called it what it was.
So no—there was no guilt.
There was just… the pointlessness of it.
Mysaria was beautiful and sharp and impossible to ignore—but she wasn't Rhaenyra. And pretending otherwise wouldn't make her forget. It wouldn’t dull the way Laena's words had split something open in her chest. So she didn’t bother pretending.
With a sigh, she pushed off the wall and turned away, heading toward the other end of the club.
Criston was still there, mid-laugh, taking another round of shots with some mutuals he knew from campus. His eyes lit up when he saw her reappear.
“There she is!” he said, holding up a shot glass like a prize.
Alicent slid in beside him, the alcohol already sinking into her bloodstream like a blanket over nerves.
“What took you so long?” Criston asked.
Alicent just reached for a shot and knocked it back. “Needed a moment.”
Criston raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. He poured them both another.
Alicent was half-curled into herself on one of the worn, velvet couches in the corner lounge of the club. The lights were low here, pulsing in rhythm with the music, but dim enough that her features looked soft in sleep—or near sleep. Her head had tipped slightly against the backrest, hair mussed, lips parted just enough to let out slow, shallow breaths. The flush of alcohol still bloomed high on her cheeks, and one of her hands hung limply at her side, the other resting over her stomach like she was guarding something delicate.
She looked young, in that moment. Not the carefully composed, sharp-eyed Alicent that Rhaenyra had known on campus. Not the girl who kissed like a dare, or argued like her tongue was a blade. Just… tired. Soft. Human.
Rhaenyra exhaled.
Criston was already there when she walked in, waving her down from across the room. He looked surprisingly relieved to see her.
“Thank god,” he said as she approached. “I was starting to think I’d have to carry her back to campus myself.”
“She’s that bad?” Rhaenyra asked, eyes drifting back to Alicent’s slouched form.
Criston just gave her a look. “See for yourself.”
Rhaenyra crossed the short distance, kneeling slightly in front of the couch. “Alicent?” she said softly, placing a hand on her knee. “Hey… you with me?”
Alicent stirred, brows knitting together as if waking up hurt. Her eyes cracked open a sliver, then fell shut again.
“Mmnn…”
It wasn’t much, but it was enough.
“Come on,” Rhaenyra murmured, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Criston moved in to help, lifting most of the weight as Rhaenyra guided her up. It was awkward at first—Alicent half-conscious, limbs heavier than usual, mumbling something incoherent under her breath as she leaned into Rhaenyra’s side. But they managed. Together they led her through the maze of bodies, out past the bass and the sweat and the strobe lights.
The night air hit like cold clarity. Rhaenyra blinked against it as they reached her car.
“Passenger side,” she said, pulling out her keys. Criston nodded, helping maneuver Alicent down into the seat, brushing her hair gently out of her face before buckling the belt.
Once she was in, slumped against the window in exhausted silence, Criston stepped back.
“You sure you got it from here?”
Rhaenyra gave him a tight nod. “Yeah. Thanks for looking out for her.”
Rhaenyra stood there for a second longer, hand resting on the roof of the car, heart twisting in a way she didn’t want to name. Then she climbed into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and pulled off into the dark—Alicent sleeping beside her.
The roads were mostly empty this late. Just the distant whir of passing cars, the hum of the engine, the occasional flicker of a red light against the windshield. Inside the car, it was quieter than it had any right to be, considering how loud things felt inside Rhaenyra’s chest.
Alicent was slumped against the passenger window, cheek pressed to the cool glass, her breath fogging a faint bloom onto it. She hadn’t said a word since they'd gotten her into the car. Rhaenyra wasn’t even sure how awake she was anymore, just that her body swayed gently with each turn Rhaenyra took.
Rhaenyra’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
She hadn’t expected to see her there. Hadn’t even planned to go out tonight. But Leana’s message—sharp and smug, soaked with that irritating mix of concern and judgment—had jolted something in her. And the minute she’d read "your girlfriend’s here, too drunk for her own good", something in her stomach had dropped.
Your girlfriend. As if Leana knew anything about it.
As if even she knew what this was anymore.
Rhaenyra blinked hard and turned onto the quieter roads that led towards Alicnets.
Alicent stirred a little, breath hitching, lashes fluttering. Rhaenyra glanced over for a second.
“You okay?” she asked quietly.
Alicent made a low sound, something between a sigh and a groan. “Where’re we?”
“Almost back,” Rhaenyra said. “You fell asleep.”
A beat of silence. Then, softer: “Did you come get me?”
Rhaenyra hesitated. “Yeah.”
Alicent made a face, pressing her forehead to the window. “Leana,” she muttered like a curse.
“She was worried.”
“She was nosy.”
“She thought you were cheating on me,” Rhaenyra said before she could stop herself.
That earned her a slow, heavy blink from Alicent. Her lips parted slightly. “I told her we’re not—”
“I know,” Rhaenyra cut in. “I know what you told her.”
Another silence. This one thick.
Rhaenyra exhaled and turned back to the road. Her voice, when she spoke again, was quieter. “Do you know what it felt like to get that text?”
Alicent didn’t answer.
“She made it sound like you were… throwing yourself at someone. That I was just supposed to show up and collect you like—like I had a right to. Like we were something.”
“We’re not?” Alicent asked, voice hoarse.
“You’re the one who said we were friends,” Rhaenyra replied, sharper than she meant to.
“Yeah. I remember,” Alicent whispered, turning her face away.
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
When they finally pulled up to Alicent’s house, Rhaenyra parked and cut the engine. For a moment, neither of them moved. The car ticked softly as it cooled, the stillness between them turning heavier, fuller.
“I can walk you in,” Rhaenyra offered, half-hoping she’d say no.
But Alicent nodded.
The air outside was cold, sobering. Rhaenyra moved slowly, walking beside her up the path. They didn’t speak again until they were at her door.
Alicent fumbled for her keys, hands still clumsy. She dropped them once. Rhaenyra bent to pick them up, handed them over without a word.
“Thanks,” Alicent muttered, barely meeting her eyes.
Rhaenyra nodded, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets.
Alicent looked like she wanted to say something else, but she didn’t. She just stood there, her body swaying slightly, lips parted but voiceless.
Rhaenyra turned to leave.
“You’re not staying?” Alicent asked behind her.
She paused at the doorway, her back to Alicent, the light from the hallway pooling around her like a halo. “Do you want me to?”
There was a silence behind her. Long and aching.
Rhaenyra closed her eyes, jaw tight. It wasn’t the silence that hurt. It was the weight of everything buried inside it.
Alicent’s voice finally broke through, small and hoarse. “Please… stay.”
Rhaenyra exhaled through her nose, like she was trying to calm the sting burning in her chest. “Then keep your voice down,” she said, glancing over her shoulder. “I’m not in the mood to explain to your parents why I’m sneaking into your room past midnight.”
She walked back inside, shutting the door softly behind her.
Alicent tried to sit up straighter in bed, a tired smile tugging at her lips. “You’re here,” she murmured, like she hadn’t really believed Rhaenyra would come.
“You’re lucky I am,” Rhaenyra snapped quietly, though it lacked real venom. “You were about two shots away from passing out in the alley like a goddamn cautionary tale.”
“I only drink when I’m with Criston,” Alicent said, slurring around the edges of her words.
“Tragic,” Rhaenyra muttered, making her way to the bed and helping her sit upright. “Try drinking water instead next time.”
She reached for the glass on the nightstand and pressed it into Alicent’s hand, but the girl could barely lift it. Her fingers slipped, and her body swayed. Rhaenyra caught her with a curse under her breath, arms wrapping around her waist.
“For fuck’s sake—” she grumbled, maneuvering her into the bed with slow, careful hands.
Alicent blinked up at her, dazed. “You always take care of me,” she whispered.
Rhaenyra looked down at her, face unreadable. “Someone has to,” she said softly, brushing a strand of damp hair away from Alicent’s forehead.
Alicent’s hand reached up and touched Rhaenyra’s cheek with trembling fingers. Her thumb ran over her jaw with a reverence that made Rhaenyra freeze.
“You’re warm,” Alicent said. Her smile was faint, sleepy. “Always warm.”
Rhaenyra furrowed her brow, unsure what to say to that. Her breath caught slightly when Alicent’s fingers curled lightly behind her neck, keeping her close.
“I’m in love with you,” Alicent said, barely a whisper.
Rhaenyra stared at her. Her lips parted slightly, but no words came out. A deep red rose in her cheeks despite herself. “You’re drunk,” she said, voice soft. Not dismissive. Not angry. Just… lost.
Alicent only smiled in reply. A slow, blissful smile that made her look entirely unburdened.
“I’m in love with you,” she repeated, quieter this time, like she was telling the night itself.
Rhaenyra sat frozen for a moment, torn between the part of her that wanted to demand if she meant it—and the part that didn’t want to hear her take it back.
But Alicent didn’t take it back.
Instead, she leaned forward with childlike ease and wrapped her arms around Rhaenyra, pulling her close. It wasn’t a kiss. It wasn’t anything like the usual fire between them. It was quiet. Desperate. Safe.
Rhaenyra stayed still, her arms hovering in the air, unsure of where to place them. Her heart thundered in her chest, deafening in the silence.
Alicent murmured it once more—“I’m in love with you”—against the curve of Rhaenyra’s neck. And then she stilled. Breathing slowed. Limbs heavy. Gone.
Rhaenyra sat there, still caught in the hold of those words, as the warmth of Alicent’s body anchored her to the bed.
She didn’t say anything. Not even to herself.
But she didn’t leave, either.
The first thing Alicent noticed was the dry burn in her throat.
The second was the warmth pressed against her back.
She blinked against the faint morning light filtering through her curtains, eyes crusty, head pounding like hell. Her sheets smelled like sleep and perfume, and something familiar—lavender and smoke. Her body ached with that telltale post-drunk heaviness, but it wasn’t just the hangover that made her heart thump unevenly in her chest.
She dared to move just slightly, rolling onto her back with a low groan. That’s when she saw Rhaenyra—curled in the desk chair, arms crossed, her legs drawn up under her hoodie, one of Alicent’s throw blankets wrapped around her shoulders. Her head was tilted back against the wall, her lips parted slightly in sleep.
Alicent stared at her, heart catching.
She didn’t remember everything. Not clearly. But she remembered asking her to stay.
And she remembered the words. Words she’d said more than once.
Shit.
She slowly sat up, a wave of nausea rocking through her. She pressed her palms to her eyes, breathing in, trying to ease the spin of the room. There was a glass of water on the nightstand. Aspirin too. Of course there was. Rhaenyra always thought ahead, even when she was furious.
A quiet rustle made her glance up.
Rhaenyra had stirred, eyes cracking open. She blinked blearily at her, then straightened in the chair.
“Oh,” Alicent said. “You… stayed.”
Rhaenyra’s face was unreadable. “You asked me to.”
“Right.” Alicent reached for the glass, taking a slow sip. Her throat was sandpaper, but the water helped. “Thanks. For last night.”
A beat passed.
“You were a mess,” Rhaenyra said, blunt but quiet. “Drunk off your ass. Flirting with anyone who’d look twice.”
Alicent winced. “Leana told you.”
“She told me enough,” Rhaenyra said, standing slowly. Her hair was a little messy, her face tired. “You should be more careful.”
“I didn’t—” Alicent started, but she didn’t finish. She didn’t know what she hadn’t done. Or what she wanted to deny.
Rhaenyra looked at her, brow furrowed. “What do you want from me, Alicent?”
That was the real question, wasn’t it?
Alicent looked down at the covers twisted around her legs. “I don’t know,” she said honestly.
Rhaenyra scoffed under her breath. “You said you loved me.”
Alicent’s throat tightened. “I was drunk.”
Rhaenyra’s jaw clenched. “Right.” She stepped back, toward the door, that wall creeping back up between them fast. “Well. Thanks for the honesty.”
“No—” Alicent reached forward, then stopped herself. “I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I did—I do—but it wasn’t fair to say it like that. Not after everything.”
“You’re right,” Rhaenyra said. “It wasn’t.”
Silence again. Too much of it.
Rhaenyra sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “I’m tired of not knowing where we stand. I’m tired of the secrets, the mixed signals. I came here last night because I still care, but… I can’t keep playing this game.”
Alicent’s voice was small. “So what do you want to do?”
Rhaenyra didn’t answer right away. Her hand hovered on the doorknob. “I don’t know. But I’m not going to be just another one of your mistakes.”
And then she left.
Leaving behind the water glass, the aspirin, the blanket on the chair.